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tealincubusspeckles · 2 years

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Can u write a story about james?

@sapphire-15

First, thank you for sending me a request! Although I am not sure what type of story you are asking for James to star in. Second, I prefer writing snippets to full-blown stories since I get lazy. Third, please note that my blog is more centered on empathizing with the characters of Seduce Me rather than focusing on its story. Fourth, I am not the biggest fan of James since he makes me uneasy. Why? He tells Erik to kiss Mika instead of proving the effects of their powers himself. When Erik probably has emotional pain related to being considered the playboy of the group and James would probably know this based on rumors floating around the castle. Is he not confident in his own skills? Did he not want to put himself in danger in case Mika was a being who could hurt them? Was Erik’s magic abilities stronger than the rest? It is possible that James was so deep into his studies he truly did not care about rumors of his brothers, and/ or he never truly got a chance to hang around his brothers until they bothered him and got him in trouble for playing. Fifth, I did not want to say no to this request because I know the fandom is hungry for content. Sixth, Did James know the mansion and Mika were protected by magic in Seduce Me 1? My theory is that he did not only Damien and Matthew did. Damien probably knew from Harold and Matthew seems like the type to search around a new environment testing his limits. I apologize for the long time and spelling or grammar errors.

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STORY ABOUT JAMES

So, I hear you want me to tell a story about James. Well, how does one tell a story about someone else? For starters, I can question family and observe the man as much as I like. But, what about James does one want to write about? I am here to tell you the story of falling for James. As anyone with a crush would know falling for someone is thrilling and nerve-racking at the same time. Honestly, I could not even think of comparing it to anything else. When I crush on someone, I crush on them hard. I can become obsessed and want to know as much about them as possible. I want to know the places, people, and things they like. I want to know who they hang around with the most. I want to be close enough to see them but far enough to run away. I dream of holding them in my arms to cuddle up against their chest and hide in the warmth of their arms. Hell, maybe even sniff them… for science. Did you know the nose can remember 50,000 different scents? Not interested? OKaaay! Let’s go with the testimonies!

“What is there to know about James? Almost everyone back at the castle would tell you he is perfect. Flawless even! Lucky in almost every way! That hasn’t changed even though we are here. There has never been a fight or being he has not won over. So long as he knows the rules of course. James loves rules and structures. Nearly drove himself insane by trying to read all the books in a local library when we first visited, Princess! Truly admirable. Or maybe ridiculous. Depends on how much you value a book over food.” Erik said.

“You want me to tell you about, James? Like what? …Anything? Uh He reads. Well! If you know that then why ask?... How is he with what, sex? How should I know? Ow! HEY! You said ANYTHING!... Alright, alright no need to get violent! Damn! James is the eldest and mostly likely first for the throne. The four of us were basically replacements if James failed. Never seen him much except when he was telling me off for fighting. But gives good advice, even if you don’t ask… Close? I guess? I mean I would fight to the death for any of my brothers… The five us would only hang out if we caught James reading outside of libraries. But even then, seeing him was not as often as I get to see him now. Not to say I miss his presence or anything! IT’S JUST NICE TO SEE HIM RELAXED! I mean! FUCK IT! Go ask him yourself, Doofus!” Sam said.

“About James? Well, he is smart, but not the smartest person alive. I doubt anyone is that smart or not as smart as they claim to be. I respect him though since he has book knowledge down pat. You should see him when he starts reading contradicting articles and books! It drives him up the walls and I have seen him attempt to write his research paper. Until he realized that he would probably have to attend university first before his work could be acknowledged. Funds were running low so that dampened his mood for about a week. I challenged Sam to stop a car with his bare hands. Good times. Listen, I’m not mean to Sam! He’s mean to me!... Ok, ok, James. Right. Oh! His glasses endlessly respawn on his face even if you remove them! Yeah! They do trust me! I know you have seen him take it off but that’s because his glamour produces new glasses if anyone besides James tries to remove them. How do I know? Fishing pole. That’s all I am going to tell you. Wait. Do you smell that? Oh, snap! My perogies!” Matthew said.

“James is smart, kind, talented, and quickly learns just about anything. Except probably the concept of fun. James did not play with the rest of us to often. It got him in trouble. Sometimes he had bruises although no one would know. James was good with magic enough to hide them if need be. I mean all of us where to a degree. But James was the one with the most access to energy due to his status. However, like the rest of us I think he often used sweet flowers when he could! Sweet flowers? Um they are um flowers that give us a bit of energy instead uh of taking it from another being. No, they do not grow here in the human world. You can ask James to draw it for you if you like. Although I think Erik or Matthew are better with arts than James is. I mean James is good at drawing but drawing stress him out. James usually feels better after writing, reading, or doing an activity. I think he likes tending to the garden since he gets to put his book knowledge to practice. I agree a puzzle or dollhouse kit would be a great gift for James... If I could find a way to stop mind reading I would. I just think that James would enjoying reading and building things. I don’t think those things are as useless as you think they are. They hold memories, don’t they? Ask him.” Damien said.

Hair as black as ink styled with a side part. Face seemingly distracted by the thoughts in his mind to care he is making his wrinkles permanent or even smoothed down to reveal nothing. Amber eyes like whiskey focused on the task at hand, challenging someone to be defiant, or simply acknowledging someone’s presence. Gold frames catching the light in just the right way to highlight him but not enough take away from the scene around him. Pants pressed to the point anyone would feel like they are wearing a trash bag full of wrinkles. Business style shoes with shoelaces to push home the fact you probably prefer slippers, crocs, or sneakers every day. The flash of his gold watch to remind you that time is flying by as your eye never strays him. The collar of his shirt held closed together by his tie not tight enough to choke him, but enough to make you wonder why a guy who looks like he came from a business meeting is hanging around at home. The tone of aggravation anytime Erik, Sam, or Matthew do not act like civilized beings raised like princes. The gentle touch he was trained to have so as not to offend anyone, but firm enough to let you know he is already taking the lead to an interaction. The words simple to understand with easy interpretative meaning so as no one can misuse what he said.

How about personal effects and living space. James shares a bathroom with his brothers and his stuff is hidden away neatly in the corner of the bathroom like in a hotel. The towels are folded neatly under a bar of soap, a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, shampoo, and conditioner. Heading toward the bedroom shared with Erik. James’s half of the room is neat. Almost as if he was never there, the only indication is the book on the desk and the way the bed was made. Did he learn how to make a bed in the military? A single book on the table. No bookmarks or dog ears were noted in the book. Only if you ask him does he tell you the exact page, line, and word he stopped on. Impressive. With permission to open drawers, one can find all James’s items stored in such a way that everything is easily recognizable and grabbable. However, he does not have an organizer for these items and just sorts “depending on material and subject matter”. His clothes look somewhat like one another as they all are business casual white button-up shirts, jeans, dress pants, gray sweaters, and gray blazers. The drawers are immaculate and feel like an in-a-store display instead of in a house. When asked about his favorite places in the house he suggests the library and the garden. In the library, one can find a few books lying about near reading spots such as the table beside the chair with the lamp. There is a book resting against the wall under the window. When asked, James states he often chases the last of the sunlight to read by the window, and having the book there is easier to access than having to walk back and forth from the shelf. The shelf has a few books lying on their spines to make a note of the space from which the original books were taken.

The amount of discipline he forces himself to follow that makes others revere him can either make the best first impression or give off an air of coldness. The pedestal that others put him on which force him to keep up the appearance of knowing what the heck is always going on. Let’s face it there are few people who are truly prepared for the unexpected. Life is about how well you can adjust and adapt to events. As Erik once said James is just Lucky. Lucky that no one will see his flaws because of his appearance of perfection. Lucky because everyone seems to hand you things if you look like you have your life together. But is someone truly lucky, if all an outsider sees is how you are outside? If outsiders never take the time to know you, never offer to help, never say it’s ok to take a break, and never check in with you because they cannot to see you as an equal? Since the world will fall apart if a person who is perfect is not so perfect at all.

Easily considered the golden goose of his siblings, James is known as the prodigy child of the Demon Lord. Sitting at the right hand of the throne, James has seen many of his father’s decisions declared firsthand. One can even infer that early on in his life, James knew his father would not give up the throne easily. After all why would a prideful man after power, ever consider letting go of that power freely to a being that would eventually become a rival? When you train someone to rule, you often tell them not to obey because they need to be firm with their choices. There is a human saying knowledge is power and James was often reading. Meaning James had the ability to spot inconsistencies with how his father ruled but he probably learned to keep his mouth shut just to keep his head on his shoulders. But James was loyal to the father’s cause and knew no other way of life than to rule. So, he seems perfect because he was told to be and learned to be.

Many could say he was a soldier following the beat of someone else’s drum and told to give himself up for a cause that claimed to be for the “greater good”. The “greater good” of uniting every demon under one banner, one ruler, and one unified power that not even heaven or hell could stop. Without different allegiances, in theory, everyone would stop fighting with each other and instead should be focused on the goal. A goal that even James knew was ridiculous. The demons did not want to be led, threatened, mistreated, unheard, or worse killed for just trying to live their lives! Why would demons ever try to fight the other two know powerhouses of the world? James did not even live long enough to study the different worlds because he was forced to study all types of demon law and customs. With so much studying James could barely have a social life except for his brothers! However, even with limited friends James still stood confident in his ability to win others over. Even if most of them he won over were just trying to get with him superficially because of his position. This means that James knows how to treat others equally at least to keep up good relations with people so he can seem charming.

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Youngblood Resolution

From the first moment, they met Mika fell in love with James’s smooth voice and gorgeous features. He noticed her pain, and in that instant, she felt acknowledged for the first time. Unlike most adults in her life, James questioned Mika’s conduct and put her in for a split second in the spotlight. A spotlight that she could not run from because she had accepted his arm to walk her to the chair at the head of the table. Thinking back, the only reason she admitted a bit of her truth to the whiskey-eyed stranger was that she wanted to keep him by her side. She was interested in what the tall, good-looking, and put-together adult would say. Would he judge her just as other adults did and force his advice into her hands? No, James’s voice of honey soothed her concern with a concise observation. His voice was her reward and offered her comfort just as her grandfather’s words had healed her soul many times before. This interaction easily overwrote her initial fear of the brothers as she now felt closer to James. James felt like the leader, he was respectful, and surely staying by his side meant she had nothing to fear from the rest. In her mind, she wanted to spend more time with James because he paid attention to her, listened to her, and was nice to her without being vulgar. Mika held onto the hope that one day James would return her affection and they would get married. She knew that thinking about marriage when only knowing him for about a day was quick. But that is how fast she crushed on people, and she knew there was nothing wrong with having hope.

The evening James saved her from Malix, Mika couldn’t sleep and decided to write in her journal. Her entry was a secret love letter that expressed her unsaid adoration and thanks for James coming into her life. She had been so engrossed in her writing that she jumped nearly six feet when she heard someone clearing their throat. Standing to her side and peering into her journal was a beautiful woman with piercing red eyes, chestnut hair, and a well-endowed figure. Mika’s scream was caught in her throat, but she simply hugged her journal close to her chest before she spoke.

“Don’t look! No wait! Who are you!?” Mika shouted

The woman crossed her arms before addressing the human.

“I have no business with you. But I do have business with the man you are writing about. If you hand him and his brothers over to me, I will get out of your hair. I can even go as far as making you forget I ever came here.” The woman said.

“How did you- No! I don’t have to tell you anything! You broke into my house!” Mika said

“I didn’t break anything, human. I’m a demon. I’m just here to offer a way to make your life normal again.” The other said

“Normal?! I don’t want to go back to how things were! I won’t let things go back!” Mika said getting out of bed and getting within arm’s reach of the woman as she spoke “You don’t know what it was like! I don’t want that to be normal!”

“Oh? Child, you don’t have any powers to keep his attention for long. You are just one human out of many. Or are you so delusional from your horrid past that you believe he’ll say he loves you?” The woman asked

“You, know nothing about my life and I won’t let you have them,” Mika said

“Go on and convince yourself. With your looks, he’ll get bored of the novelty of human hearts soon. I won’t even have to lift a finger.” The woman said

“SHUT UP!” Mika lunged and attempted to hit the other woman, but her fist was blocked and caught in the hand of the other.

The woman then easily pulled Mika close into a firm embrace where Mika could feel the other’s breath on her face. The hold was awkward since one arm was held over her head and the other was trapped between her own and the woman’s warm chest. Then the woman’s grip tightened to the point it almost hurt Mika’s wrist and back. How was that even possible?

“Hit a nerve, did I? If you are so keen on that man. Then you should learn to control this temper of yours, dear. It’s unbecoming of a lady going after the first prince.” The woman said

In response, Mika spit at the woman and glared at the other’s eyes in defiance. It took a woman a split second to recover from the shock and soon Mika watched the other’s eyes turn an even brighter red. The next moment Mika felt an intense pressure in her head, her tongue felt heavy and there felt as if something was squeezing around her throat.

“You see, little one, I was simply trying to save you from heartache. But there is no one here to stop me from getting rid of you.” The woman said as the pain over Mika worsened. For a split second, Mika thought she was going to pass out. As sudden as it came the pain whisked away to allow her to breathe, but Mika's voice was still trapped “Now I can’t have you calling him and ruining your punishment, can I? You need to understand you never had the upper hand here and never will. You are a weak link, a bargaining piece, and a second-rate witch at best. You are so obsessed with that man but there is nothing stopping you from achieving things greater than he can!” Diana pushed Mika back into her bed with ease and magic. “You aren’t even worth explaining anything to. When we meet again you will call me Diana, human”

Mika could not move her body from the sitting position and was forced to watch Diana disappear into a portal. Even when Diana left, Mika’s body refused to move which left her the choice to sit in silence or fall asleep sitting up. She was just happy that when she awoke the next day the effects of the spell wore off. After a quick visit to the bathroom and a change of clothes, Mika told the boys about Diana. Mika straight out asked them if she would be targeted simply because she offered to house them. The boys were quiet for a few moments before Sam said Mika did not have to worry about Diana as they would all do their best to protect her. At the time Mika was not comforted by Sam’s response and voiced her concerns to them again. In response, James stood up and walked over to her saying

“Your focus should be on school. Leave Diana to me and my brothers. You know I will come to protect you whenever you call for me. Just trust my promise to you, Mika.” James said

After James spoke, he gently caressed her face and asked for a kiss. The action was simple but enough to calm Mika’s worries and she easily accepted the kiss. To Mika, James had been the only adult aside from her grandfather to stay true to his word. James put down Malix for her and always seemed ready to give her or his four brothers guidance.

The school day went by uneventfully, but Mika’s friends commented a couple of times that Mika seemed tense. Mika easily attributed her tense demeanor to Lisette’s almost friendly truce-seeking attitude. It was true that Lisette never treated Mika nicely in front of the popular pose, but Lisette never went out of her way to make amends with Mika before. Lisette usually treated Mika with indifference however it seemed that Mika was the only one to acknowledge this shift. Or maybe there were more sides to Lisette that Mika never got to see? Or was it that eye-catching purple pencil that had something to do with it? Mika did not entertain her suspicions too much just in case Lisette tried something funny later. Although Mika’s fears never came to true as she was soon back in the company of James and his brothers.

That same night a fit of restlessness called Mika out of bed to catch Diana trying to convince James to go to the Plains. Also, it was the night that Mika heard James declare his love for her and refuse Diana’s offer. Mika felt a surge of pride for herself, possessiveness for James, and anger towards Diana that caused her to burst in to interrupt the two just to tell Diana off. Before Mika could even blink or get to James’s side, Diana stole a kiss from James and disappeared! Mika was still fuming but James’s unsteady grip on her shoulder caught her attention. Mika quickly became worried, but James turned the focus back to Mika asking if she was ok. To Mika, the fact he cared more about her than himself made her feel at ease and reminded her how much she adored him. This thought gave her the courage to admit her feelings for the eldest incubus. In return, James told Mika that he loved her, and his touch sought her in a way no one had ever done before. Elation and feelings easily carried Mika away as she reciprocated James’s touch. That night the two joined as one seeking comfort and reward in each other as they held on to the hope that the worse was behind them. Then the next night, as if stepping out of Mika’s dreams, James proposed to her and sealed their fate together.

One would believe that marriage ensures a fairytale ending, but is that ever truly the case? Diana’s words never left Mika’s mind and it often caused her possessiveness to come up at any time. There were times James missed Mika’s cues but luckily Mika was quick to give in to James and admit what was bothering her. Meaning James always took the role of a comforter who allowed Mika to indulge in whatever she wanted at any time. Meanwhile, Mika would silently question James’s loyalty and focused on spending as much time with James as she could. When they were home or outside together Mika could be seen clinging onto James’s arm or holding his hand. When apart Mika would often text James questions about schoolwork, tips on cooking, and ideas for dates that she wanted. If James did not respond quickly Mika would end up telling the plans to Damien or Matthew before texting the idea to James again. Mika did such things because in the back of her mind she worried that Diana would come back for James or that some other woman might try to take James from her. It was only when James was in her sight, in her arms, and doting on her that she felt loved and that he loved her in return. What she had kind of forgotten was that the brothers were still her roommates and often kept tabs on the two. After a few months of watching the couple, the brothers took Mika out. They sat her down for a talk and pointed out how she could be seen as controlling. Thus Mika was offended and immediately became defensive. Until Sam spoke up saying:

“You act like you never had legs before! You use him like a crutch whenever you are around him! Maybe it’s because you are young, and this experience is new for you. But never forget what we are, Mika! Did it ever occur to you that once James found out you were Harold fricking Anderson’s granddaughter that he would have a foot in the door to gaining a different kind of crown? James was trained to be king!”

Mika was shocked into silence and when she looked at the other brothers for comfort none of them met her eye. Mika took a few deep breaths to stifle her emotions as she took some money and blocked out the words Matthew and Erik were trying to offer. After she placed the money for her meal on the table, she did her best to speedwalk and not run out of the door. Mika was hurt because each word Sam spoke was like a bucket of cold water over her head. The sheer audacity of the boys after she offered her house to them! How dare Sam implies that she was just using James and that James was using her! That could not be true! She was not that selfish of a person! James even said he loved her to Diana! Mika did not force James to say that, and she did not force him to stay! James was his own person and she just wanted to be with him. Was that so wrong!

Does he truly want to be with you?

Did you ever ask him what he wanted?

Are not always wanting him to act perfect while you act like a baby?

“Shut up…” Mika whispered to herself as she wiped her tears.

Why did the voice in her head have to be so cruel? She was trying her best every day she just got lazy, but she knew she could do it if she put her mind to it. James seemed to want control and she thought being submissive was what he wanted. But has she ever really asked James? Did he only indulge her just because she was the closest person nearby? Mika felt her voice shake as the possibility that James had simply been using her started to fester in her mind. There was no way, right? No, she had to call him. She needed to… Mika’s hand shook when James’s voicemail box picked up. She was alone and no one was on her side in this. Mika felt a surge of panic rise within her as she quickly covered her ears and started to hum to herself. She forced herself to focus on her own humming and even shut her eyes as if her actions could shut off her thoughts. Although she wanted to block her thoughts the remnants of them still affected her and her heart still hurt. It took her awhile to somewhat recover as she let a few stray tears go, however when she got up she did not stop humming. In fact Mika hummed herself almost all the way home as she told herself to focus on the sound. She did notice a few stares and would lower her humming, but Mika did not want to stop humming. Mika felt she needed to continue humming or else she’ll have a mental break down in public! The rest of the way home seemed like a blur as she tried to suppress her thoughts.

Eventually, Mika approached the mansion’s door and shivered as if her mind’s chill escaped into reality. As she gently closed and then locked the mansion door, Mika glanced around taking note as to how much the mansion has changed because of THEM. The game system was set up in the living room for the group to play games. In the same living room was gaudy exercise equipment because of Sam. There were a few simple books tucked away in different areas of the house because of Damien. There were new curtains and an open songbook on the piano because of Erik. There were many different dishes, cutting boards, and knives drying in the dish rack because of Matthew. There were new flowers and vases around the house because of James.

Had all the brothers been playing with her feelings this whole time as Sam implied? Was he jealous of James? Did Sam feel sorry for his brother being tied down to a human? Was Damien even her friend, she basically told him everything! But he had always been soft-spoken, hadn’t he? She should not blame him, probably. Not even the suave, silver-tongued, pretty boy stepped up to stop his brother. Then again, they had never been close since she made it clear that he creeped her out. Matthew was just someone fun to be around and his insults for others always took Mika a while to understand. Maybe Matthew had told her off in the past, but she never had her mind focused on him? That was possible. James could have told her and been honest if he was having a problem with her. Then again she did rely on James too much. But I mean she never had much guidance growing up and he was willing to give her guidance! It’s not like she was saying that James was her dad, right? I mean she did call him daddy sometimes, but the context is different! She calls him that because the title is sexy. Look it’s not like they are related, or she is asking him to baby her! She just asks that he protect her, provide for her, and discipline her if she does wrong. I mean it’s not like he is raising her! She is 18 and he is just 5 years older than her.

As Mika brushed her thumb against the flowers, she scoffed at herself “…I would usually get upset if he said anything.”

That was the truth she was pretty much defensive over every little thing, and she was headstrong. Meaning it was possible that James saw her as someone hard to talk to. Thinking about it, Mika never knew anything about the boy’s past because she never asked. So, she did not know how many places they have called home, but it was clear looking around the mansion that her home has equally become their home. Mika forced out a big sigh and went to sit on the living room couch thinking over her questions. She knew she had to ask the boys or at least James directly but what was she going to say? Mika's thoughts started creating mock scenarios of her ideal outcome and the worst possible outcomes. She went as far as writing some of her questions on a notepad to ask James later. When Mika could not take the swirling thoughts, she decided to listen to ASMR videos on her phone and focused on her breathing. It was a habit she forced herself to do when she was stressed out, her mother had called it internalizing. The noises and emptiness of the house eventually lulled Mika into a nap.

“Love?... Wake up, please. It’s cold downstairs. The blankets are much warmer.” James said

His voice was gentle as if nothing was wrong. Maybe his brothers did not say anything? Did his brothers come home? Mika stirred and sat up looking over to James who stood nearby where she had laid down.

“Did your brothers come back home?” Mika asked

“No. They said not to wait up for them either because they are going to find accommodations for tonight.” James said

“Oh… I hope they stay safe” Mika said

“Erik and Sam are with them. I trust those two will watch after the younger ones. Shall we get you to bed?” James asked

“…Yeah” Mika looked down at her hands for a moment then spoke up “Actually can we talk?”

James looked surprised for moment but took a seat next to Mika “Is something on your mind?”

“Um. I know this going to sound stupid… But do you love me?” Mika asks

“Of course, I do… Mika is something wrong?”

Mika looks to James’s expression, and he seems to look worried. But Mika could not hold back all her concerns “Are you saying that just because you got comfortable feeding off me? Aren’t you just keeping me wrapped around your finger because you can?”

James’s seemed to search her face before speaking but his expression became unreadable “…Is that what you think I am doing, Mika?”

“No… I don’t know. James answer me, please!” Mika pleads and holds onto James’s hands

James was silent for a moment “The only thing I have ever wanted, Mika, was my brother’s happiness. I want them safe, sheltered, fed, and out of trouble. So, I made myself open for you not because I wanted you but because I needed you to trust us and not be scared. Right now, I can tell you are stressed and from books, I know that loving someone takes time. We have not been together long, so I need to know what more you want from me for you to be secure.”

“So, you used me! You are manipulating me!” Mika said getting up and stepping away from James

“I never said that-“James said

“No! Don’t gaslight me! That’s what you implied!” Mika shouted

“I won’t deny that I am willing to say and do almost anything for my brothers.” Mika's body shivered in response because he seemed so cold “Mika, I treated you as cordially as I would with any stranger. Humans seem to return kindness for kindness and so far, that mentality has worked with you. Dating you means my brothers have a place to return to with food and are out of trouble. If I marry you then I ensure that at least you would be there to support our identities. Over our time together I have indulged you as best as I could using information about love from books. Is there more you want from me that you haven’t told me?”

“Raestro! I want you to love me because you want to love me! Not because I want it! Did you ever love me at all! Did you lie when you told Diana that you loved me?” Mika asked her voice breaking a bit. But she stood her ground she needed to know.

James sighed and stood before her relaxed “According to a dictionary love means having deep affection, great interest, pleasure, or enjoyment with someone or something. You are interesting to me; I can never anticipate what you might say or do. I enjoy being so relaxed without the threat of death around every corner. My brothers and I are forever indebted to you for allowing us an opportunity to live with you. I feel pride whenever I catch your blushing face staring at me. So, I do love you, Mika. Were you hoping for something else?” James said

Mika shook her head and looked away “Honestly…I wasn’t…I di-didn’t know what to expect from you… it’s always logic with you isn’t it. Haha” a sob slipped past Mika’s lips but she bit down and looked to her feet “… So there were no feelings of affection for me I was just something to boost your pride and a new sight to watch, huh?”

When James said nothing, Mika looked up at him, and his confused face

“What! Got nothing to say now, bookworm!” Mika accused

“No, I do have something to say…” James stays quite until Mika signals for him to continue “…Books say that love takes time to grow and requires all parties involved to work for it. I do feel platonic love for you, but romantic love will take longer for me to grasp. Also, I feel like you have always left the decisions up to me. I want you to be able to tell me what you want and need instead of making me always take the lead with decisions. Often you ask me what I want. But it always feels like it turns into a guessing game to guess what you want, and it stresses me out. I do not find having absolute control over every aspect of someone’s life enjoyable as it reminds me of my… father” James said

Mika blushed “…I’m sorry”

“No worries you had no idea... But I feel it would be best for you to figure out what you want and learn to communicate it with me. Just know my brothers and I will support you even if you are not dating me. We do owe you for supporting us.” James said

“I just. I don’t want you guys sticking around for obligation…” Mika said

“With how many calls I receive from you a day I think otherwise,” James said

“…I’m sorry I am clingy, aren’t I?” Mika said

“Honestly yes. But that just means I am not meeting your needs to make you feel secure in this relationship.” James said

“I- ha I think that is just a problem with my confidence… I wish I could have better self-confidence.” Mika said

“What do you want to do to help build your own self-confidence?” James asks

“Any tips?” Mika asks sheepishly

“There are a few books I can lend you to read. If you like” James said

“I think… I think I would like that.” Mika said

Unbeknownst to the two beings, there were a few beings listening in using a helpful toy.

“Think she is going to get better?” Matthew asks

“Who knows. I just didn’t realize the lost woman would be helpful to her” Sam said

“In a way it could be said Diana used you to play cupid for those two,” Erik said giving Sam a push

“Buzz off that is disgusting!” Sam said and shivered

“She did though. She saw their potential.” Damien said

“Oh! Hey Damien! You feeling, ok?” Matthew asked

“I just feel a little weaker, but I can’t hear your guys' voices anymore,” Damien said

“Congrats, Damien! We are happy for you!” Sam said giving a genuine smile to the youngest while ruffling Damien’s hair

“We will monitor you though just in case,” Erik said with a slight smile

“I wonder where she learned to force power into a crystal though ever heard of it, Erik?” Matthew asked

“Yeah, I have. It’s a strong spell, but she is a pure-blood.” Erik said thoughtfully

“Hm.” Matthew simply hummed “I just hope things turn in her favor.”

“She is not our problem and we should make sure that Mika doesn’t become a problem again,” Sam said

“Ha. Rude.” Matthew said

Damien yawned and continued to lie on the hotel bed. Tonight the four would sleep in a two-bed hotel room. Sam was going to sleep on the pull-out couch, Erik slept in his own bed, while Matthew and Damien shared a bed for one night. So far it seemed as if the boys would have to help Mika find confidence and they couldn't leave James alone on this journey just yet.

#seduce me james #seduce me the otome #seduce me 2 the demon war #seduce me sam #seduce me matthew #seduce me damien #out of character #seduce me erik

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kayjayo1227 · 1 year

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Hello there, sorry to be interrupting!

I was curious about what issued you've personally encountered with Stampede!

I'm completely new to the series, I know there's an older adaptation also but supposedly it was very inaccurate to the story and I'd love to know the differences between iterations before sticking to one.

I am definitely 👌 close to just reading the manga and nothing else though, given that Stampede didn't really spark joy for me as I'd have hoped it would.

Thank you for your time either way!

Wishing you a stellar day :)

You asked so I’m gonna probably write a whole lot lol 😝

I am not by any means a Trigun 1998 purist or anything, I actually got some issues with it too later on once they deviate from the manga. Personally, I think between the three the manga is ABSOLUTELY the better version just in terms of storytelling and visual style and whatnot. I very highly recommend it.

Trigun 98 nails Yasuhiro Nightow’s visual style perfectly. It’s got absolutely iconic music, and it’s one of those animes that helped make anime a big thing in the US. Plus, I’ve got a lot of nostalgia for it personally because I watched it first and as a kid. It’s very good.

The problem with 98 is that the Trigun manga took a hiatus and was republished later under a different magazine, and from that point on is known as Trigun Maximum (if you do watch 98 this split starts to happen right after the stuff with Eriks and the little timeskip) so it misses out on a LOT of good stuff and makes up it’s own ending. But up to that point it’s a phenomenal adaptation.

Trigun Stampede is… it’s a weird case for me. Because while on the one hand I don’t hate the cg style here, I also feel like it’s wrong for Trigun. It’s so crisp and clean instead of gritty. They seemed to be leaning a lot more into the sci-fi side of Trigun than space western and it’s just a surprising choice?

They’ve done a great job characterizing Vash. I was actually very excited to see Knives using y’know KNIVES lol and (while I haven’t got there yet) I know the ending of the series plays into 98/the manga somehow. But it felt weird to me watching it when so many characters were weirdly different.

They made changes and I don’t get why? Like changing the planet’s name from Gunsmoke to No Man’s Land lol why? I personally was really hoping they would give us more accurate manga adaptations but instead they gave us something that was neither. It keeps a lot of that original Trigun peace and love to it, but every character change leaves me just looking at the screen and going “WHY”

Just for example about what I mean (and the biggest example of it)

One of my favorite manga characters is Livio. I love Livio. He isn’t in 98 at all. But he has a big part in the manga. The second he showed up in Stampede I was pretty annoyed. They took one of my favorite character designs and just…made it real bad. And so far the characterization doesn’t seem right either, although I’ll admit it bothered me enough I haven’t watched more yet.

None of these things make me consider it an abomination or anything, I do believe there s a lot of good stuff there. Just makes it hard for me personally to keep watching. It could be better!

Some comparison photos of Livio

And some comparisons of Knives

It’s just…it’s not bad but it’s not what it could have been 🥲 I don’t believe there is anyone out there that has read the manga that would think either anime adaptation is superior to it

Anyway, sorry for the novel! I love the manga and have been screaming at my friends to read it for years lol

Definitely check it out!

#trigun #trigun stampede #trigun maximum

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unitedbydevils · 8 months

Text

A dressing room leakier than Old Trafford's roof: why fans must ignore the nonsense

Another day of drama for Manchester United. Another day of ridiculous media coverage because guess which club has the biggest news pull.. that's right, it's the (temporarily not so) mighty reds.

Unity is needed to fix our poor form, but I think an inquisition is needed to root out the leakers because it's boring. Years of shit being passed out from Carrington like it's a paper note in a classroom. Grow up.

Does Erik Ten Hag have favourites? Perhaps. Does this mean you should down tools? Absolutely not. The attitude here forgets several things:

You are an asset in of yourself. If you give up, other teams notice. This will lessen your value for a sale.

It also reduces your personal growth as a player. 6 months of not trying might have been the period where you level up your skill set and playstyle.

Football is a game of small margins. Anything less than your best could be the difference between a salvaged point and a painful defeat.

The rumoured leakers are obvious: Sancho, Maguire, McTominay, and maybe Donny Van de Beek (I doubt this last one). Henderson was also rumoured to be leaking before, as was Eric Bailly. Disgruntled players are the obvious suspects, and normally it's correct.

Roy Keane, seen here on Sky Sports, has the right take: players are failing to take responsibility for their poor performances, and are giving up too easily. Could ETH make better subs or quicker tactical changes? Sure. But it's his second season, having finished 3rd, won the League Cup, and reached the FA Cup final, all with Weghorst up front for crying out loud. Give the man a chance, believe in his plans. We can't keep cycling through managers. United will just be a graveyard for talent and a money pit.

The latest 'leak' or drama is about David De Gea's departure. People have short memories. He was a good goalkeeper, and kept United alive for many shitty seasons, but his last few years saw his shot stopping - the star attribute - fall off in terms of stats and success. This is an issue. Onana is a solid replacement for the keeping metrics, but with great feet to help play out from the back.

Our current form isn't derived from Onana playing badly. It's derived from an injured Varane showing the gulf of skill between him and Lindelof, and how important Varane is to getting the best out of Lissandro Martinez. Hence the need for Kim Min Jae in the summer.

Beyond that, Eriksen starting games at 31 with a heart condition. What the fuck. Casemiro looks overweight and slow and needs to be eased in to the season. Last year he played more games in the season than he EVER did at Madrid. Ever. They're playing though because Mount, Amrabat, Mainoo are all injured. All three would be playing if they were fit. They might all feature tomorrow versus Burnley, and they'll make a huge difference going forward.

The media is to blame as much as the players though. The Daily Mail published an article about Onana dropping his car keys. How is that journalism? The same goes for Samuel Luckhurst, seen above. There's a lot of stirring the pot to cause drama, to generate clicks.

The reality is that people shouldn't be taking the Manchester Evening News (M.E.N) seriously because they're clickbait these days. The death of local/regional news; clamouring for clicks and views rather than offering actual substance and building loyalty and respect.

United are in a rough spot, and perhaps this poor start means we fail to make the top 4 this season, but if - in the grand scheme of things - Ten Hag gets United playing the way he wants to then so be it. I want us fixed, and I'm willing to back this manager to get it done. If everyone was pulling the same way, trying, and it just wasn't working then fair dos, Erik might not be the man, but no. He hasn't had his preferred first XI. He hasn't had players properly trying. He's had issues with leaks, player insubordination, scandals off the field, and the takeover farse.

There are better managers, but I guarantee they cannot be arsed with United and the Glazers. Lets get behind Ten Hag, back his authority, lose the dregs and crybabies, and see what we can achieve with a committed squad of battlers and ballers. Up the reds.

#manchester united #man u #man united #man utd #manchester reds #erik ten hag #casemiro #christian eriksen #samuel luckhurst #daily mail #andre onana #roy keane #jadon sancho #harry maguire

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atpaftmoom-bily · 3 years

Text

Thoughts about Erik, why Wilhelm wasn't allowed to come out, and more.

Be warned, this is long, confusing, and I'm not even sure if I made any valid points. But I had thoughts on Young Royals, with no one to talk to, so here you go.

I've seen various different takes on Erik and what people thought his reaction would have been if Willie had come out to him, most of them being positive, and some as well saying how sad it was that Willie never got to come out to his brother. I have a different take, but bear with me it's gonna take a second to get there.

Something that I found interesting in the first place was that when August found out it was Simon and not a girl, he just seemed shocked, but not in a homophobic way that I had kind of been expecting.

Additionally, let's take a look at the comments on the video, I've split them up into three different groups. General comments (disbelief, surprise, pity, etc.), comments sexualizing them, and negative comments. (I've translated these as well as I could as they were not all captioned, but if I've made a mistake feel free to let me know!)

General Comments "OMG Have you seen this?? The Prince is gay!!!!" "Who's the other guy?" "I'm dead" "Finally some news to put Sweden on the map!" "Poor boys, I feel sorry for them" "So clumsy to get caught on film" "I know where he lives!" "I think the video is fake" "Love for the boys"

Sexualizing Comments "Royal porn" "Sexy" "Love" "Sexiest video ever"

Negative Comments "How will the monarchy survive this?" "The end of the royal family, time for Sweden to become a republic!" "Never been ashamed about being Swedish until now" "Class traitor! Your mother cries for your sins"

Now, there are quite a few things I want to point out about Sweden that I feel should be taken into account here. Of course, we don't know the exact dates that the show took place, but we do know it is modern-day, and though it is a work of fiction, I am going to assume that anything that is currently true in Sweden at the moment, give or take a few years, would also be true in the Young Royals universe.

The first point I would like to make is that Sweden is one of the most LGBT-friendly countries, even being named the most friendly country in 2019. Looking back in history, 1944 was when Sweden decriminalized sexual relationships between consenting adults of the same sex, though it was still thought to be an illness. However, in 1979 it was no longer considered an illness. Fun unrelated fact, but Sweden was the first country to legalize gender change in 1979. (If you'd like to read more on LGBT rights in Sweden here are some resources. One. Two.) If Sweden is that progressive and is that LGBT-friendly, then I wondered what the problem was with Willie coming out, so I dug some more.

I'm American, so my understanding of many parts of the world is unfortunately skewed or incomplete, but I'm working on changing that. However, because of this, one thing that surprised me in my research was that the monarchy in Sweden is more of a unifying symbol than anything else. They have no political affinity or formal powers, but rather "the King’s duties are mainly of a ceremonial and representative nature." Of course in the case of Young Royals, the Queen inherited the throne, and Wilhelm would after her.

Something else I found interesting about the monarchy in Sweden is that the current Queen, Queen Silvia, did not come from a line of nobility, so when Queen Silvia and King Carl Gustaf married in 1976, it was highly unusual. (See more on the Swedish monarchy here.)

There is one last thing I want to point out about the current King and Queen. "In summer 2000, King Carl XVI Gustaf and Queen Silvia of Sweden made history when they ate under the rainbow flag at Djurgårdsterrassen, a Stockholm restaurant owned by gay owner Arto Winter. At that time, the decision was seen as controversial, and played a valuable role in moving conversations forward – while making the royals’ position abundantly clear." (Source)

Now, of course, I understand the difference between a fictional work and real-life situations, but at least in my opinion, these same ideals should carry through to the show that we see. If the King and Queen in real life have been openly supportive of the LGBT community since at least 2000, then although specifics might not be the same, some of those ideals should carry through to Young Royals, so what is the problem, right?

I'm not trying to erase the reality of homophobia altogether, because of course, that exists. We even see in the show through comments that there are some people who are worried about the state of the monarchy, are disgusted, or downright still think that not being straight is a sin, but we also see other comments as well. If Wilhelm were to come out, what would happen? Would there be some backlash? 100%. Would there be people who would support him? Also 100%. Would it make his life harder? Probably, but would he be happier? In my opinion, yes, but I guess that's a question that Wilhelm would have to gauge on his own.

Now I want to look deeper at the conversation that Wille has with his mother, the Queen, in the car on the way home so he can give a statement to the media. Below is an excerpt from their dialogue.

---

Wilhelm: Why can't I just have a relationship with him? And not say anything. Just live a normal life.

Queen: You're the crown prince. And that's a privilege, not a punishment.

Wilhelm: Yes, but I didn't ask for this!

Queen: Well, nobody has ever, ever asked for this! You are the only one who can take over the throne after Erik. Don't you understand that? You are so young. When you're young, love feels like the most important thing in the whole world. When I was your age, I too had an unfortunate romance. That was before I met your father. What I mean is, is it worth it? If you feel that the attention you've been getting so far is unacceptable, it's nothing compared to what you will endure for the rest of your life. We have a chance to cover this up, I urge you to take that chance. You may not get another."

---

Something I find interesting is how much Willie just wants to live a normal life, which I get. He is under so much pressure, from being a role model, his brother's death that he hasn't even had time to process, preparing to be king someday, and (kind of) being outed to the entire world, but at least his school. It's enough to make anyone want to live normally. I think the biggest thing we have to think about here is the Queen's question as well. Is it worth it? She is right of course, the attention he will get will always be there, but I do think that Willie would be able to find a way to be happy along with being King. It shouldn't have to be a case of either-or, and ultimately I don't think it is.

Now I'm going to move back to Erik, and really, this ties everything back to the start where I mentioned I had a different take on Erik's reaction to Willie being not straight. I think that Erik already knew. It would make sense for a variety of reasons. In the show, it is obvious that the two of them have a good relationship. We also hear Erik tell Willie, "you can trust him, he's like a brother," in episode one when speaking about August, showing that trust is something strong between them as brothers. I'm not exactly sure how old Wilhelm is meant to be in the show, but I estimate somewhere around sixteen. I would like to assume that sometime before attending Hillerska, he may have had a crush or felt some attraction to a guy. We also can see from their phone call in episode three, that they're not afraid to joke around with each other about such things, meaning that Erik would most likely be the first person that Willie would go to about such things.

Another thing that makes me believe Erik already knew has to do with people assuming that Simon is the first guy that Willie has liked. Now, I know things are not the same for everyone, but if we consider what happens when the video is posted, and Willie had to deny it is him, we can conclude that being anything other than straight in their family is not okay, simply because they are royals, and the media attention will be too much. Imagine you've known your whole life, you can't be something, the first instance you encounter that, you're probably not going to give in right away. I'm talking at least some minor internalized homophobia here or something.

So put that into the context of Simon and Willie's first kiss in episode two. Simon kisses Willie twice before Willie says "Well, I'm not... I'm not... Stop! Wait, wait, wait!" and immediately pulls Simon back towards him. Let's reflect back to episode one where Willie says "I’m not… I’m not allowed to speak about political issues." I'm not allowed. Of course, there are TONS of restrictions on what he can and can not do, kissing guys, probably being one of them. But if he was going to say I'm not gay or I'm not like that, why would he instantly pull him back in, contrasting what he was just going to say. In episode three, Willie does say, "I'm not like that," which makes sense. He's had time to think and isn't in the heat of the moment. What other explanation can he give? Sure, he could say he's not allowed to be like that but saying that would admit that he is. It's a circle, a very messy circle, but it is a... loop.

Going back to what I'm supposed to be talking about here, Erik. This isn't Willie's first rodeo, but Erik was there for the first. One last thing I want to talk about is the phone call that Erik and Willie have in episode three. Below is an excerpt from their dialogue.

---

Erik: You've met someone.

Wilhelm: I, uh... Yes, okay, but I... I don't think we're a couple or anything. I don't know what it is but can we just...

Erik: I get it. I get it. You don't have to tell me any... I don't wanna hear any details. Hey. Willie, enjoy yourself. Soon enough people will start having opinions and-

Wilhelm: They don't care about me. 'Cause you're the Crown Prince that they have opinions.

Erik: I don't get it. Why are you sitting in your room sulking when you have a crush to hang out with?

---

Firstly, Erik refers to Willie's crush as completely gender-neutral. "You've met someone" could very easily be "you've met a girl". The same goes for "you have a crush to hang out with". Very well could have been "you have a girl to hang out with". Sure, it could be completely coincidental, but we live in such a heteronormative society that it would just make sense for Erik to use female-gendered words. Unless, of course, he knew.

Secondly, "Hey. Willie, enjoy yourself. Soon enough people will start having opinions". This sounds very much to me like, enjoy your time while you can be yourself without backlash because soon you won't have that privacy. While I feel that, yes, the same may happen with anyone Willie was to date, him having a same-sex partner multiplies that, by a lot.

In conclusion, Erik knew Willie was not straight, Willie should come out, but when he is ready, and August is a really deep character that people don't give enough credit to. Gosh, I hope I covered everything, I probably forgot so much, but it's fine. Please let me know your thoughts if you've made it this far into the post.

One last thing. I hope you'll notice how in this post, I never referred specifically to Wilhelm's sexuality, and I did that for a reason. I often see gay used to label him, and though I am unsure if that's being used as an umbrella term or specifically as in he only likes men, I think it's really important to realize that they're specifically making him unlabeled. In this youtube video Edvin Ryding, the actor who plays Wilhelm, says "What we're trying to do... We're not labeling Wilhelm's sexuality. I think that's good because it's like, it portrays that it's okay that way too. You don't have to. You shouldn't have to come out. It should be allowed to be a bit fluid, a bit out there." I just think that it is important as it's another type of representation that is not seen often.

#young royals #prince wilhelm #simon eriksson #wilmon #simon x wilhelm #young royals netflix #wilhelm yr #simon yr #august yr #erik yr #netflix #edvin ryding #omar rudberg #malte gårdinger #ivar forsling

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earnestly-endlessly · 3 years

Note

kind of an odd request — do you have fics where erik is grumpy with everyone else but a ray of sunshine with charles?

Hi anon, thank you for the ask. First and foremost, I'm so sorry for how long this took me but I've been searching for all the fics that come to mind that fit your request. Second, this is not an odd request because I love this trope so much. I mean, it's basically canon that he's grumpy with everyone except for his Charles, right? Anyway, I might add to this list later on, but I can't sit on this any longer and hope that you have found some fics that you enjoy!!

Fic Recs Where Erik is grumpy with everyone but a ray of sunshine with Charles

Twice as Blind – Darksknight

Summary: Erik is probably the biggest asshole on the face of the earth, and because of this, he'll probably die alone. Charles is a complete flirt and playboy and, probably, will never commit to anyone ever.

(The lesson here is that when you have two friends who are BOTH secretly seeing someone, well, it's probable that they're seeing each other.)

In the moonlight, on a joy ride – scarlettblush

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

The Proper Care of Actors – Clear_Liqueur, Clocks, Etherei, afrocurl

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

Rumor Mill – ikeracity

Summary: Erik is the grumpiest, most foul tempered worker at Stark industries. His grumpiness is the stuff of legends.

So it's obviously the talk of the office when Erik is being made to go to the company party and he's bringing his husband. There's rumors flying round about how much of a masochist or equally antisocial bastard Erik's husband must be to put up with him. Others think he must be a meek mouse perhaps bullied by Erik.

What they weren't expecting was the confident, charming, adorable and unbelievably nice Charles that turns up on Erik's arm. What they certainly weren't expecting was how much Erik obviously adores his husband and how happy he is to let others see this.

Work/Life Balance – pocky_slash

Summary: Alex is pretty sure his weird, anti-social boss is a robot. Right up until the guy's adorable husband shows up. His adorable husband who happens to be a famous actor. His adorable husband who happens to be the very same famous actor who was the source of many of Alex's teenage fantasies.

Terrifying Domesticity – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is the most dangerous and notorious mafia boss around for miles, and yet the strangest things terrify him.

For example: his children, and his very pregnant mate.

Of kittens and teacups and love – Ren

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

Fools Rush In – LoveSupreme

Summary: Erik owns a cafe on the edge of campus and accidentally starts maybe-stalking a Biology Professor there.

Growing Pains – ikeracity

Summary: Twelve-year-old Erik Lehnsherr is an angry, closed-off foster kid with trust issues and a bad temper. Ten-year-old Charles Xavier is a lonely kid in boarding school who just wants a friend.

Logan pretends he doesn't think they're both fucking adorable.

Series

Home Together (The Finding Our Way Remix) – significantowl

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

Melted Ice Cream and Macaroni Art – pocky_slash

Summary: Everybody likes Charles. Nobody likes Erik. And that's really the source of Erik's doubts. Also, there's ice cream and a baby. Part of ‘the Daycare’ verse.

Walling in or Walling Out – stlkrchck

Summary: Erik stifles a sigh. Of course this is Mr. C. F. Xavier. Of course.

For the prompt: Charles and Raven are throwing a holiday party. Erik is the grumpy neighbor who is annoyed by how loud they are being. So he goes to complain, and Charles makes it up to him.

(Wise Men Say) Only Fools Rush In – wildelybroken

Summary: After reading a fic where Erik and Charles are super sluts, meet at what is presumably Raven and Emma's engagement party, and end up sleeping together, I made the following comment and just inspired myself.

"They start casually texting each other throughout the day, maybe while they’re bored or frustrated at work, and start out meeting up and sleeping together semi-frequently. And eventually they accidentally start dating without noticing it at first, not until Raven and Emma get them alone and are like “wtf you two super sluts are actually dating??” And at first they deny, but then they’re both like “holy shit, we are!” And they meet back at one of their places and they don’t have to say anything, they just look at each other and come together immediately, kissing passionately and ~making love~. In the middle of it they realise that’s what they’ve been doing for a long time now and they confess their love to each other and they live happily ever after because they deserve all the good in the world."

For Charles – Shigai

Summary: Tired of being told he has to find his 'heart', classical piano graduate Erik Lehnsherr decides to travel to Italy and drink from the famous Italian passion for music. While searching for it, he meets Charles Xavier, a graduate in Fine Arts who is basically travelling around the world perfectioning his technique, and who will turn his world upside down.

Together they will discover that, sometimes, what you thought you didn't need is what you needed the most.

Erik Hates People – Anonymous

Summary: Erik hates people- it's his rule, a way of living.

Sugar – humanitys_cutest

Summary: Erik glances at the clock for what feels like the tenth time in less than half the minutes. It feels like he's been in some meeting or other since the day started almost 10 hours ago, and he's had just about enough of listening to these pompous old men discuss what would be the best design for his building like they know anything about it. He tries as subtly as possible to massage his temples to assuage the building migraine, but he knows it's no use.

He just wants to go home.

Everyone Likes Charles – Rosawyn

Summary: '“Everyone who's met him likes him.” Cain's grin was even stupider than before. “Once you meet him, you'll see.”

It was almost like a challenge then. And damn. Erik hated saying no to a challenge.'

Still Going Strong – JackyJango

Summary: Speaking of forty-eight, Erik hates it. Hates it even more that others are aware of it. While he’s pragmatic enough to know and accept that aging is inexorable, the increase in number gives the people around him the freedom to pounce at him with questions, opinions and advice he'd fought to keep at bay all year.

Besides, Erik believes that youth is a state of mind, not a phase in one’s life.

You have a child’s mind in a man’s body, Charles constantly tells him.

But despite his age, Erik is healthy. He works out daily. His muscles are steel and he can dead-lift four hundred pounds. He can break bones without breaking a sweat. Most importantly, he can still carry Charles to the bedroom and fuck him senseless. And as long as Erik can do that, he’s perfectly happy.

All I know is pouring rain and everything has changed – hllfire

Summary: Charles meets Erik, the man he had heard about many times from his sister and some friends, on a rainy Sunday morning. The stories about Erik paint him as a distant and intimidating man, but Charles finds out that maybe the stories had been wrong.

How to Successfully Ruin Your Life – humanveil

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Charles Xavier accepts a job at his local café, expecting nothing more than a fun, new pastime. What he gets is a mysterious customer and a schoolboy crush.

Stolen – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is a miserable, grumpy, cantankerous bastard, and he has every fucking right to be. He drew the short end of the stick when he got the Underworld as his domain, and there isn't very much fun to be had in judging and governing dead souls who would rather be anywhere else but with Erik in the depths of Hell.

So when he meets Charles, brilliant and lovely Charles who is more popularly known amongst the mortals as Persephone, and feels the promise of something wonderful that could make his eternally doomed existence infinitely more bearable... you can bet all your drachmas Erik's not going to let Charles go any fucking time soon.

Erik Lehnsherr's Guide to Saving the Universe By Meeting Your Soul-Mate and Falling in Love in Less than 72 Hours – magneto, pangea

Summary:Army Pilot Erik Lehnsherr is just trying to enjoy his day off when a mostly naked person crashes through the roof of his car. Even more alarming, the strange falling naked person—who goes by Charles Xavier when he's not speaking an ancient dead language—brings tidings of the apparent potential end of the world, and begs Erik to help him put a stop to it.

Well. His mother has been nagging at him to go out and meet new people.

The Theory of Partnership Dynamics – Pangea

Summary: “Detective Lehnsherr, how wonderful to see you out on the job!” The fed in the front greets him as they draw nearer. He’s shorter than the other two by a full head, and he’s beaming at Lehnsherr as if completely undeterred by Lehnsherr’s paint-peeling scowl.

“What do the feds want?” Lehnsherr asks bluntly.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” the fed answers cheerfully. Then his gaze lands on Alex, and, impossibly, his grin gets even brighter. “Did you get a new partner?"

“No,” Lehnsherr says through his teeth while at the same time Alex says, “Yes.”

#fic recs #cherik fic recs #cherik #asks #earnestly answers #I'm sure there are waaaay more fics out there #might add more later

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worstloki · 3 years

Note

i just wanna say that i luv infiloki nd just need to know if u have a fc list of them if not i will beg my freind to writee some but plz offer if u do the memes r glorious Thank u !!

there will never be enough infinoki but here's the lovely list of what I've seen so far:

I got you like you got me by every_lokitten : Thanos finally completed the first part of his quest, but after collecting the stones, there’s something he didn’t count on. When the stones are joined together, they become a cosmic entity of their own. And they are not happy.

OR: the one where the infinity stones are sentient and Loki is saved from death (among other things).

Life Won't Give You A Happy Ending (So Make One Yourself) by Idontknowcanon : On the Dark World Thor dies, leaving Loki and Jane Foster to warn the others and save the Universe. But all is not what it seems. Malekith may not be the bad guy; Odin is a lying liar and terrible father; Jane loves science; Darcy is cool with anything; Erik is done; and Loki is confused and tired.

Also featuring; Sentient Infinity Stones, and a Loki who really doesn't want to be a host for them.

Infinity Love by GayRainbowBridge : Thanos tortures Loki beyond measure in order to break his mind and spirit as the god of Mischief refused to help Thanos retrieve the Tesseract from Earth but Loki won't submit. As it turns out, each infinity stone Loki comes into contact with happen to like Loki and all eventually seek to protect him and even help him to foil Thanos's plans to annihilate half the universes population.

mors certa by worstloki : Bringing the stones together really was a great plan of Thanos'. Truly brilliant. Might even have helped achieve his goal if he hadn't killed a few people along the way. Unfortunately for him, the stones Did Not Like That.

given one more chance by tittydicktea : In 2018, Thanos won. He snapped half of all life out of existence and then destroyed the stones. His biggest mistake, though, was thinking that a broken neck would keep Loki dead.

In 2022, Loki crashes into the Stark's garden and is found by Morgan, who immediately takes a liking to him. Pepper and Tony aren't exactly thrilled with their daughter's new obsession with the injured God.

Let's Bake A Cake by GayRainbowBridge : The Infinity Stones want to bake Loki a birthday cake without using any shortcuts through magic. And really, how hard could it be? Apparently, pretty dang hard.

Commūnicāre by Eshnoazot : Soul-marks don’t have to be words per se; Marks take the form of the first communication between soul-mates, where one person has the intent of a message, and the other understands that it means something. It’s why people have soul-marks in languages they don’t speak or read- but understand as a form of communication, and why people who are deaf can have the second, or even third words ever spoken to them by their soul-mate on their inner-wrists when their soul-mate realize that talking at a turned back doesn’t always count as communication.

Let Me Give You My Life by Whatafuckingdumbass : After Frigga's funeral, Loki starts hearing a voice. It changes their life completely.

Always Read The Fine Print by every_lokitten : When Loki agreed to help the stones escape the vessels they were trapped in, he thought he knew what would happen. He was warned of a few potential, major side effects, but this was not what he was expecting. Loki’s had a lot of plans blow up in his face before, but never quite like this. What is he supposed to do now?!

OR: why all cosmic entities should come with a warning label

#no please i love the few funky ships i like #i sit around grinning like im deranged every time either tesseroki or infinoki comes up #there are only a few but they're good so i'm able to reread these fics #it's great #hope you enjoy >:)#infinoki #fic recs

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palmett-hoes · 3 years

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i so agree on the thea/kevin thing. i do think they end up together though - not because i particularly think they're good for each other but because sometimes people end up in relationships they settle for and maybe they change and maybe they don't but sometimes life is just like that. thats kind of why i particularly like how nora makes it clear that allison doesn't end up with a man because she tends to seek out the anger issues + doesn't want to help themselves type of man. it b liek dat smt

hmm okay. i think first i want to address what i mean when i answer asks, especially one like the kevin and thea ask you're mentioning. just because i'm writing it doesn't necessarily mean i'm committing to the idea 100% and it doesn't mean it's what i believe 100% will happen. it's a possibility and more than that it's an idea i'm exploring for the moment

that was an analysis of how i view their dynamic, with some predictions based on that specific interpretation, and the end part was a best-case scenario if everything worked out perfectly. but you're right, a best-case scenario doesn't always happen. people's lives don't always play out perfectly and they don't always find the perfect right person that they're with forever. and sometimes they settle for something that's stable or familiar and that's not even necessarily a bad thing

what's really great about transformative work like fandom is that i don't have to stick to just one idea. i can entertain the idea of a perfect world for kevin and thea where they break up but stay friends and help each other overcome the trauma and conditioning of the nest, and at the same time i can also entertain the world where they fall a little flat of that, and still end up together and sometimes kevin sits up at night and looks at his wife and asks himself "do i love her? am i happy?" and knows that the answer isn't a resounding yes, but that she's still his partner and they have a daughter together who he wouldn't trade for anything. analytically, you can make an argument for either of those pathways, or even one where kevin and thea get marriage counseling and end up the happiest most in-love couple in the world, or a million others

you can create a post-canon where anything happens. one where kevin meets the love of his life, one where kevin never meets anyone, one where kevin suffers a career ending injury at 26 that this time he truly never recovers from. as a creator i can explore each and every one of these options for him and think of them all as equally real and equally possible, even if i'm thinking about two completely different ones at the exact same time

it's a story. it all comes down to what i'm feeling at that moment, what I'm looking to explore. do i need a pick-me-up? do i want catharsis? am i angry? sad? cruel? do i want to deconstruct the notion of the cold war nuclear family? do i just want a good time? you get out what you bring in

whatever i end up typing is a reflection of what i'm thinking and feeling in that moment. i may want to look at it completely differently in another moment

but i do agree that i like to keep a little reality regardless, and i also like that nora did too. she didn't give everyone a perfect happy ending with a marriage and kids and i think that's right for the statement she was making with the series

and sometimes i like that, sometimes i want a world that's a little softer around the edges for a bit. that's for me to decide

but if you want my strictest, most true-to-life, mirror of reality take on what happens in post-canon, okay

---

i still don't think that kevin and thea end up together, because there's at least two more years on kevin's college contract and no guarantee he'll go onto thea's pro team from there, and i don't think either of them will really be trying to stay in touch. long-distance is hard. long-distance when you're not even trying is impossible. i don't even think they explicitly break up it's just they realize they haven't spoken in months and don't even have each others' current addresses so they avoid eye contact if they ever happen to be in the same room and eventually one of them has a 30-second news spot about dating someone new and that puts the final shred of uncertainty between them to rest

kevin never really finds someone. he's too committed to exy, as a pro-player and as whatever he does after, and he's never going to tell anyone that his life is technically owned by the mafia. maybe he has a convenient marriage or two with some other celebrity that ends in divorce. he's not really particularly concerned with it and when he's old he doesn't regret it. maybe he never wanted a partner in the first place

it's aaron and katelyn that i think are the most likely to end up the way you described kevin and thea. they get married and they stay married but really they're married to their jobs as doctors. and as the years go on they sometimes wonder why they're still together but it's too much of a pain to sort through their shared finances and they're not unhappy, so they stay together. maybe one or both has an affair that they hide, but even if the other knew it probably wouldn't change anything. their house is really expensive and in a really nice location, it's not worth the divorce

dan and matt also probably get married, but i don't think it stays. matt seems like the type to want kids, and dan seems like the type to hate the idea. irrevocable difference. eventually they have to split. matt definitely remarries and has his kids. dan may remarry, she may not, her job is her primary concern. they stay amicable, but it's tense for a few years. they really rocks the foxes, because it's the only internal breakup between two of them

andrew and neil are both the most stable and the most happy of the foxes, because they know how to communicate and they know how to fight for each other. but also because neither of them has any grand notions of romance or true love. they didn't build their relationship on passion, they built it on understanding and cooperation. to them, a person to wake up to in the morning or sit by a window with IS a miracle. it shocks a lot of the foxes who all either subconsciously or not thought that their own relationships were better or healthier or more destined to last than andrew and neil's. over the years all the other foxes have come to them at least once, in private, looking for advice. they'd be lying if the irony of so many years of being given unasked for relationship advice coming full circle didn't make them just a but smug

nicky and erik are the other long-term success of the foxes. if nicky can stay with the twins at their worst he can shelter through normal relationship drama. still the hardest part for him is when the relationship ultimately becomes familiar, as they all do. he's always buying relationship books and planning dates and setting up relationship retreats because he's honestly so afraid of being alone if he likes the flame die. sometimes it's honestly the biggest strain on his relationship, all the frantic effort he puts in, but they get through it

renee never marries or really has any significant relationships. she says she's married to jesus and her job but she's still always a little bit haunted by her past in a way that holds her back from truly opening up to a partner. she adopts several kids though, somewhat later in life, because she believes that she can pass on the chances that stephanie gave her, and that's more important than romance

allison has a string of wild marriages and even wilder divorces that are usually the highlight of fox get-togethers. she has a child by accident and she isn't a wonderful mother. dan and renee are both very involved with her kid, for many years more than she is. when the kid is nearly an adult allison finally pulls her head out of her ass to see that she missed so much of the only relationship she can't annul. at that point she quits relationships and focuses on fixing things. it's a slow, painful process, but they manage to be close later in life

---

so, do i necessarily WANT all of these things to happen? no, many of them are quite sad. but all of them are good stories, and all of them are realistic in the sense that they are reflective of what happens in real people's lives

this is one version of how i think post-canon plays out. of course, i may change my mind later, or fiddle with the details, or want to play with an entirely different idea for one or more or all of the characters

#txt #kevin day #thea muldani #dan wilds #matt boyd #aaron minyard #katelyn #andrew minyard #neil josten #nicky hemmick #erik klose #renee walker #allison reynolds #my posts #im talkin #ask #anon #anonymous

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galacticjs · 4 years

Text

《xmen ships - zodiacs -male edition》

so basically i had an idea that pairs each zodiac with a character from a movie/book/fandom (you get the point). so yeah, here it is.

please note that this is very stereotypical so please don’t take offence to this! xx

《aries - alex summers》

•according to statistics, aries are big on communication in relationships and i feel that alex would definitely come to you if he’s worried or stressed, mainly about his powers.

•alex would trust you 100%, but he can get jealous very easy: scared that you’ll find someone better than him.

•however, alex would be very respectful and never do much about this (unless he was super duper jealous or mad) and respect your boundaries.

•aries are known to be big adventures and whenever you feel like going on one, alex would definitely tag along... anything to spend more time with you :)

《taurus - charles xavier》

•now, libras are big on trust and it would take charles a while to not be tempted to read your mind. but after a while, he’d know that you’ll tell him whatever’s on your mind when your ready.

•charles is a very closed off person and tries to appear strong and independent, but has a soft spot for you and tells you almost everything unless he feels it would put you in danger of somesort.

•yet again, charles would be very respectful and always ask if he do something (like give you a kiss).

•i’m gonna say it. big romantic. the candle-lit diner and write poems for you kind of romantic, just imagine charles writing poems for you omg 🥺

《gemini - bobby drake》

•you have gossip? tell him. he might not be that interested but he wants to know every aspect of your life (as creepy as that sounds).

•he’d definitely want you to talk to him if there was something on your mind, good or bad.

•i feel he’d be a little bit closed off though but he’d try his best to open up.

•he’s whipped for you like mega whipped

《cancer - scott summers》

•cancer looks for loyalty in relationships and scott would be 100000% loyal to you.

•however, like his brother, he can get jealous (but not as easy as alex) and try his best to not take it out on you but he has his moments.

•after his brother died, i felt it made him more mature and to not take things for granted so he’d definitely want to make a family with you someday.

《leo - john allerdyce》

•two words: power couple

•you two literally run the school, change my mind

•if you’re stereotypical leo, you love being centre of attention (and so does john) and he’d 1000000% give you that attention

•expect to be receiving cheeky compliments 24/7

《virgo - remi lebeau》

•now, if you know this guy, he’s known to be a little mischievous and for a virgo this is a big no no

•but whatever you, please don’t give up on him im begging. but who am i kidding? us virgos tend to be rather determined...

•and when you want to live on the wild side for just a little moment, you better hold on ;)

《libra - peter rasputin》

•idk but expect him to be around you 24/7

•very protective so expect no one talking bs about you when you’re with him or ever.

•he’d want to know every teeny weeny aspect about you so you can be as connected as possible 🥺

《scorpio - kurt wagner》

•ok he is shy, like really shy but he does become more confident over time

•you can tell him anything and i mean anything, he’d never tell anyone your secrets

•once he’s comfortable, he’d use his abilities to take you to really nice places

《sagittarius- peter maximoff》

•a sagittarius loves taking adventures and imagine the place you go with this bad boy in a matter of seconds (quite literally)

•sagittariuses are known to not wanting to settle down as it’s caused them to feel burdened and i feel peter might one day lowkey want to have kids but if you don’t, he’d respect that

•super duper playful and one of the biggest teases you will come across ;)

《capricorn - hank mccoy》

•you want a slow paced relationship? hanks got it, mainly because he feels the same way too

•he’d be very supportive with everything you do, and be proud of you even when you manage to accomplish the smallest of things

•he also every single on your habits, no matter how big or small.

•and if he tells you he loves you, he’ll definitely mean it

《aquarius - logan howlett》

i hit the image limit xD

•an aquarius needs a very open relationship. and could logan provide that? probably not but there’s some things that he just can’t hide

•he’d eventually tell you about his past

•very protective. if someone called you a even the simplest of insults you’d have to retrain him from going to harm them

•needs his space, but so does an aquarius :)

《pisces - erik lehnsherr》

insert picture of erik

•idk why but i feel he’d be very romantic. the candle lit dinner type of guy

•he’d try his best to tell you about his past and that he has in fact been kept prisoner at the pentagon

•he’d love every part of you. even your flaws and insecurities.

A/N: 100% not proof read as i kept coming back to this over several days weeks so i many improve on this on future :)

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'*ﾟ▽ﾟ*'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

#xmen imagine #xmen one shot #xmen headcanons #xmen fanfic

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coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe · 3 years

Text

Homeward Bound or Meeting The Family

Quick Tag List: @kuruumiya @spacelizardtrashboys @stupidbluegirl @enigmaticandunstable @nattinngrst

This Passage contains potentially: swearing, violence, blood, angst, whump, fluff and smutty content.

Summary: Rod pushes forward the flight back to Kirby's homeland by a day and meets her parents, her Mam takes an instant liking to him, her Da not so much.

Kirby's POV:

Rod shook me awake early in the morning of the Twenty-Seventh.

"Kirbs, we gotta pack."

"No we don't the flight back ain't 'till tomorrow."

"I called the airport, they let me push the trip forward by a day."

I shot up, giving him a worried look, "You pushed the flight forward to today?"

"Yeah."

I rushed to pack everything I had into my bags, mumbling incoherently under my breath.

"When do we leave?"

Rod picked up my suitcase, walking to the door, "In about half an hour."

I threw my gym bag over my shoulder and rushed to get into the D200, waiting for Roddy to check us out of the hotel and join me.

The flight back was uneventful and we got a taxi to my parent's home, with me ringing the doorbell and waiting for the door to open, hearing my parents muffled voices from inside.

"Ya didn't order anything, Heaven?"

"No, Eric. I'll go see who it is."

I shot Rod a reassuring look and waited for my Mam to open the door.

The door swung open.

"fy mhlentyn melys." She put her hands up to cover her mouth.

"Hi Mammy." I dropped my bags and hugged her.

"Come in, come in." She guided us into the living room, my Da on the recliner chair next to the sofa in front of the TV, "We weren't expectin' ya back today. How long are ya staying?"

"About three weeks, ma'am." Rod explained.

"'three weeks'?" I whispered, he nodded in return.

My Da looked up and immediately got up to hug me, "Aw, my baby has come home. Who's your friend?"

"Well, Mam, Da, this is Roddy Piper. He's a co-worker and a close friend." I sheepishly explained.

"I'm ya daughter's boyfriend." He butted in.

"Oh, Really, Is that so?" My Da started, having decided to quiz Roddy, "If you're her boyfriend, what's her favourite food?"

"Da, question him later, please."

"Alright, you're off the hook for now, boyo."

"If you're home for the next week then you can come with us on Sunday to the family get together."

"Which is on Sunday because you expected me back tomorrow?"

"Aye. Your new man can come with us if he likes."

I shot my Mam my best look of 'shuddup Mam you're embarrassing me'.

"I'd love to join you and meet more of your beautiful daughter's family."

We sat on the sofa, with me between Rod and my Da in his recliner chair, my Mam stayed on her feet and the straggler, my old cat came striding into the room and jumped up onto my lap, quickly curling up and letting me pet him.

"Do any of ya want a coffee, or tea?"

"A coffee would be nice." my Da mumbled, focusing again on the TV.

"Yes, a coffee please, Mam."

"A, uh, a cup of tea please, Missus Trevor."

"Ya got yourself a polite one there, Kirby."

"Mam." I chided her as she walked out of the room.

"Who's ya little buddy?"

"This, Rod, is 'The Straggler', he's my cat, and he's a cute little fat blob of a ginger fluffball. Sometimes I think I'm the reason he's fat, other times I think it's him sneaking out at night and eating things he shouldn't, like grass."

"So, his name's 'The Straggler'?"

"No, his actual name is 'Tiger' but we call him 'Fat Man' or 'The Straggler'."

"So, where do we put our bags?"

I lifted the straggler off my lap and got up, placing him back on my seat, he quickly curled up again, happy to be in a place that I had been in seconds before, "Come on, I'll show ya." I grabbed my bags and led Roddy to my bedroom upstairs, putting down my gym bag and opening the door as far as it would go.

My bedroom isn't the biggest but it's big enough to comfortably fit myself and at least one other person. The wall facing the door was covered by a big gothic graveyard tapestry, my sofa bed in front of it, large enough to fit two people or one giant.

The wall to the right was covered by posters of varying designs and sizes, all being rather dark or darkly comedic in nature. In front of that was my desk, completely covered with small trinkets and tiny states as well as a small radio.

Next to that was a bedside cabinet with a makeup caddy on top and my Mam had seemingly gone out to a local shop, buying some fudge and chocolate which she had placed on the cabinet-top.

The wall to the left had a window and a radiator underneath, the curtains, a deep red tartan, were parted, allowing the somewhat bright light of the afternoon into the room.

We walked in and Rod sat down on the bed, bouncing slightly on the mattress and letting out a deep sigh. I walked around to the chest of drawers behind the door and placed my bags on top of it.

"So, your parents aren't as tall as I'd thought they'd be?"

"My Da's five-foot-nine, my Mam's five-foot-four. I have gigantism."

"I know that, but, I just, I guess I wasn't expecting them to be so," He seemed to be fumbling with his words, unsure of how to explain himself, he huffed and then continued, "I wasn't expecting them to be so nice."

"Well, they were kinda forced to be both protective and kind as I grew up. Kind to others who want to be in my life while protecting me from a potentially very harsh world."

"'Cause you're a giant."

"Yeah."

"How old are your parents?"

"My Da's fifty-nine and my mam is sixty."

"They look a lot fucking younger."

"Roderick."

"Kirby, coffee!" My Mam yelled up from downstairs, "You're Uncle David's here!"

"Oh wow, didn't hear my Da call him."

"You expected to hear a phone call from up here?"

"No, they live down the street. Trust me if my family wanted to, we could fill a small town."

"Big family."

"Big but loving family, mostly."

We walked downstairs, getting our drinks from the kitchen, as per the usual my Mam had put them in 'relevant' graphic mugs, mine reading 'Head in the clouds. Feet on the ground.' and Roddy's reading 'Scots know best'. We walked into the living room and Rod got a look at my Uncle David.

A Chubby man with a darker tan than my Da but only slightly shorter despite being older than my Da, as if that has any holding in height.

"Well now, who's this bright young spark hanging out with our Kirby?"

"Uncle David, this is Roddy Piper. Rod, this is my Uncle David."

"Hello, Sir, nice to meet ya."

Hours passed by like minutes just talking and laughing, when we noticed it getting darker, we said our goodbyes and then the conversation over dinner started.

"Take-out or are we cooking?" My Da quizzed

"Well, what've we got in the fridge?" I inquired, quizzing him back

"Enough for a fry up."

"Then I'll make us all a fry up."

"Ya sure?"

"Yeah, unless you're dead-set on having take-out."

"Well if we go down now, we can get a big pizza that'll last today and tomorrow and we won't have to cook."

"Good point, Da. Let's go then."

My Da quickly put his boots on and we headed down the street, bought a big square 32" pizza, walking home with a smaller box of garlic bread slices atop the massive pizza box. We ate and finished our drinks before going to bed for the night, my parents in their room, the straggler in a bucket on the landing and Rod sleeping next to me, or at least we should have been sleeping.

"Kirby?"

"Yes, Rod."

"I love ya, ya know that, right?"

"Yes, I love you too, what's wrong?"

"Part of me wants to be part of your family and another part of me wants to say it's somehow all a lie."

"Well, why do you feel that way?"

"I guess, ugh, no I can't talk about it. But, I've got to say this, just to make sure you understand me. I left home when I was thirteen because I hated how my parents treated me and I needed to get out of that situation. I think I'm just expecting your family to be the same deep down."

"Rod, I love you, I truly do, but, my parents are the way they seem, they're nice but we do get angry, me and my Da have had so many shouting matches I can't count how many times I wanted to run away when I was growing up, but we moved past it. We grew and changed because we knew how badly it would screw the three of us up. My Da's easily angered, my Mam is easily upset, I'm easily anxious."

"Am I going to be stared at on Sunday, baby?"

"Probably. But then again, no one's really used to me having a partner because they never met Erik, and he was never my boy-"

Rod cut me off with a rough kiss, quickly silencing me.

"I thought I said, don't bring him up."

"Roderick Piper. My parents are down the hall and I thought we agreed to only da that when we want to have kids."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean we can't make out."

"You bring up a good point, come here."

I pulled him into a kiss, intertwining my fingers with his short locks, feeling his hands under my shirt, skin against skin. Somehow the only person I want near me at any point from now onwards in a any way is him, it's like I've forgotten the feeling of anyone else's touch against my skin. He makes me feel sane, and understood, like he is truly 'the one' but only time will tell, I guess.

When we awoke the next morning, Rod's forehead was lightly touching mine.

"Roddy," I whispered, "Roddy, honey."

"What is it babe?"

"Wake up hon."

"Five more minutes, you elven beauty."

I let Rod go back to sleep and got up, dressing myself in some casual clothes (black overalls and a black graphic T-shirt with a skull on it) and headed to the garage/gym space my dad had built.

I didn't realise that half an hour had passed until a knock at the door broke my concentration on my current workout.

"Come in, door's open."

"Hey Sweetheart."

"Hi, Rod, whaddya want?" I asked, breathless.

"Ya Mam sent me to talk to ya, said ya didn't get any breakfast, wanted me to give ya this," He chucked over a sealed bottle of chocolate milk, "Ya alright baby girl?"

"I'm fine, I just missed being able to just come in here and work out."

"So, this is how ya trained when ya were younger?"

"Yeah, I started wrestling when I was sixteen and before that I did kick-boxing, gymnastics, rugby, football, anything really," I took a swig of the milk, "One day, my uncle Tony, took me and my cousins to see a wrestling show, when I was about fourteen, and I decided that's what I wanted to do."

"So you focused on wrestling from that point onwards, ya never wanted to do anything different?"

I took another swig of the milk, letting out a vague 'mmn' before putting it down so I could answer him, "Wasn't until I was, twenty-five that I started thinking, about what the rest of my life holds for me, I would like a house of my own, and someone to share it with. Potentially a small but traditional wedding, a couple of kids, maybe a pet or tw-"

Rod pulled me into a rough but loving kiss, cupping my cheek with one hand and wrapping his opposite arm around my waist. A couple seconds later he pulled away, kissing my neck and whispering out the words, "Mo chridhe, I promise you I'll do whatever I can to give you everything you need in life. A family. A home. A traditional wedding. Kids. Anything, you name it and I will try my hardest to give it to you, and even if I don't succeed, you'll still have my love. Forever and ever, mo chridhe, I mean it."

"Roddy, I … I have no words good enough to describe how safe and happy, and sane you make me feel."

"I don't need words. Actions speak a million times louder."

"C'mere you," I pulled him into another kiss, intertwining my left hand with his hair and wrapping my right arm around his waist, feeling his arms around my waist slowly pull me as close as he could get me, letting the quiet calm of the morning slowly turn into a small amount of chaos as he pulled away with that devilish grin on his face. It's shocking how that grin can make me feel intrigued but scared at the same time.

END OF HOMEWARD BOUND or MEETING THE FAMILY

#wrestling fic #Lucifarians

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helpinghanikan · 4 years

Text

Public Enemy

X-men x Reader

Sum: Powers don’t always obey their masters. Sometimes they have their own minds, making problems and causing destruction that you’re left to deal with. When that happens, you’re going to need some help finding a sanctuary.

an: It’s not specified what Reader’s power is but I was thinking force-fields. I just think Force-field powers are neat.

Charles Xavier:

Charles’s office, specifically the couch, has been your home for some time. Although it has only been a few days, two at most, but it felt like years. Hours spent sitting specifically in the couch’s corner where anyone entering wouldn’t notice you right away. Reading and taking your place as secretary more seriously makes time move in a slower fashion.

“Would you grab that book for me?” Charles asks, slapping you out of whatever deep thought you were currently drowning in.

At first these little tasks he asks you to do seem to come randomly. As if he just remembered you were there and felt bad. In reality he’s probably been in the outer layer of your mind for longer then you’ve been in the office.

Ignoring these facts, you focused on your work. It had spread quickly through the school that you were open and able to grade anyone’s homework or papers. Like the rest of your current life, these were taken care in Charles’s office. A place you’ve been bent over for hours until a phone call held your attention.

Charles is a pretty decent liar. Between his history with authority and with children, he speaks with enough confidence that it’s not worth thinking about. Obviously he still had his tells, even if the person he was lying wasn’t in front of him, he still looked down and go quiet for a second.

“No, I’m afraid we haven’t heard from her.” When he starts his lie, his tells are typically gone. “Yes, we will absolutely contact you if she comes here. And, in the event of that happening, I ask that consider our relationship before deciding anything.”

You don’t say anything when he hangs up. Instead deciding that to grab that book before he asks you to.

Erik Lehnsherr:

Erik was nice enough not to say or ask anything at first. Your few items in a bag, and all your savings spent on bribing a boat captain to take you here. All this was written on your face, practically screaming that you don’t want to talk about it.

“Is anyone going to be coming?” was the only thing he asked.

Instead of a verbal answer you shrugged with a shake of your head. Maybe…

Erik uses the excuse of an escort to keep a hand on your back, around your shoulders. Even gently on the back of your neck to ask his question in a whisper. Although Genosha was supposedly a sanctuary to all mutants, you were still an outsider. An outsider who had, not only, caused destruction but just might bring down the anger of the world onto them.

“You came here quickly, then.” Erik says, in leadership mode. Sitting across from you, elbows on his knees, looking almost into you.

“You guys aren’t exactly hiding,” It wasn’t a good joke but still you blow air out of your nose, trying to force a tiny laugh.

“Then why come here to hide?” He asks.

When the answer you give is another shrug (I don’t know…) he sighs. Standing and returning with a hot cup of beverage. A kettle had either been set before he stepped out to greet you, or one was constantly kept a little warm. Either way it was somewhere between tea and coffee, but definitely not both.

“What did you do?” he asks.

It took some time to tell the entire story. Skipping too many details about the fear and anger that all came at you at once. Erik has heard it all before in much worse amounts. Only admitting that you were wanted, so many were hurt or completely destroyed by a lapse of control.

He doesn’t interrupt or ask any other questions. He just listens and keeps an ear out for helicopters.

Raven/ Mystique:

At some point you were taken to the hospital with the other survivors. The journey was hard to remember; being placed on a bed and tossed around in the back of an ambulance. Pretending to be just as out of it as the others, really just avoiding eye contact with the paramedics.

It’s nice to think that you had a plan for when you got to the hospital, and you kinda did. With all the people coming in at once there was the chance you’d be left in the hallway or an open area to wait for a bed. In the event of that happening you could just roll over and walk out. Just walk with confidence and make it out the door.

That you were now restrained in a bed in your own room meant that plan was out the window. Laying back and letting the nurses check you out with shaking hands. Just enough to check you over but not enough to pretend to be doing their job.

“It’s fine,” The nurse says, practically slamming the room door shut behind him. It wasn’t a thick door; you could still hear through it. “Please don’t make me go near it again.” He says to someone in the hallway, probably a doctor or some other superior.

It isn’t until their talking has mostly stopped that you bother trying to escape. Your restraints were soft but also tight, something that you couldn’t slide out of easily. Rocking the bed, trying to tip it over, would just leave you dangling off the side. Still strapped in but with bruises and staring at the floor.

While thinking of another dashing escape plan the door opens again. A nurse steps and gently closes the door behind her. This one was a woman nurse, so far you’ve only been dealing with males. It was likely because of the threat you posed that it had only been men. Specifically, the biggest nurses and orderlies that were available.

Because of this you watch the woman as she walks over. She was a small woman with brown hair in a bob cut, the white uniform and a smile she held while pulling the curtain around. You were smart enough not to say anything until she did. Or until she shifts entirely from white uniform into blue skin, immediately pulling at your restraints.

“Hey, Hi. Babe, I’m sorry…” You have a million things to say at once.

All the words fighting to be the first to be said. All ignored by your girl, who just places a gentle hand over your mouth and whispers a shhh. Going back to the restraints and whispering:

“Don’t say anything,” She says, opening the first and reaching over to get the next. “Let’s just get out of here.”

You quickly pulled the faded green scrubs over your clothes. Raven placing a surgical hat on your head and mask over your face was the best she could do. Raven quickly becoming the bobbed hair nurse again. She nods at you, as if to say, “everything will be fine.”

Peter Maximoff:

So much energy coming out at once has to take it out form somewhere. What was a splitting headache a second ago became a massive weight. One that dragged you down from the standing position and towards the floor. Only to be caught by arms that were not there a second ago.

It wasn’t that Peter was “harboring a fugitive,” or was “obstructing justice” he was just helping out his girlfriend. Something that he has argued about with several people.

“I don’t believe this was done on purpose, Ser.” Professor Xavier says into the phone, staring at Peter as he did. “No, she still has yet to reach out to us. To any of us. The moment she does we will tell you.”

Peter makes a face and shrugs when the phone is hung up. “I don’t see why they need her. It’s was an accident, she said sorry, I don’t see what else there is.”

Professor Xavier doesn’t seem to bother asking where you are. Peter wouldn’t tell him, and he could easily find you with cerebro.

“Is she safe?” He asks, wanting whatever truth Peter was willing to give.

“I mean, I don’t know where she is, but she safe. I think, yeah, she’s safe.” He says. Smart enough to help you vanish but not enough to know better then to lie to a telepath.

Hank McCoy:

Like a little kid you’ve chosen the staircase banister to hide behind. Either hand holding onto a separate bar, looking out between them. Your spot was strategically placed far enough away from the door that they wouldn’t see your details through the banister. As far as they were concerned you were just a curious kid. A very big curious kid.

“They” were the people Hank was currently handling at the door. It had been only two days since the incident and it’s amazing it took them this long to reach your door. Three men in suits and a woman in a white coat knocked at your door just after lunch.

Sending the students from the hall Hank took control of the situation. Never outright telling you to leave the main hall but did make a similar “shoo” gesture that he gave the kids while telling them to make their exit.

Although the distance gave you an advantage it also kept you from hearing what was being said. The men on the other side weren’t giving enough body language to tell if they were upset or not. Only one seemed to be talking, the others were moving side to side on their feet. If Hank were to move too far to one side or the other they’d try and make their way inside.

“They don’t have a right to take you, not legally or in anyway.” Hank had reassured you hours earlier.

It started to get tense on the other side of the room. One of the men giving up on waiting for an opening and trying to make one himself.

Hank’s change can happen slow or it can happen so fast you don’t even realize it. The friendly approach of a regular human at the door was abandoned the moment they showed aggression. Blue arms and baring teeth made all three jump, reaching for their hips. The woman in white, the seeming bravest of the group, steps forward. A hand reached out, but the door is slammed in her face.

Jean Gray:

Life is confusing and everyone is screaming.

At first their screams were sympathetic; they were screams of fear and pain. But after hearing them non-stop for several minutes it’s hard to feel bad. It was almost like they were doing it on purpose. Like, if they just shut up for one second you could figure what was happening.

They didn’t, though, they wouldn’t shut up. Distracting you from the indestructible bubbles creating and growing in the walls, machines and skin. Expanding and tearing everything apart.

There’s two other voices among the screaming that stands out: the first is the loudest. It’s the purest form of anger and fear that could ever be made. It was also the most annoying, if that one person would just shut-the-fuck-up you could probably think. The other voice is the only one not screaming. It wasn’t sweet or kind like it was before, it was harsh and stern. Power behind the voice making it louder then a scream ever could be.

It was pretty obvious whose voice was yours and who’s belonged to Jean.

Jean’s voice was like that. It was powerful, it was a strict father’s and a commanding mother’s combined. If she wanted to, she could make it impossible to escape her voice. She uses this power of voice now: Where your ears can’t take any information, but your mind was burst open and unprotected.

You never understood what she was saying completely. Only that it was nice, and that it made everything go black.

Logan/ Wolverine:

More than half the population of earth is smarter than Logan. He’s more than willing to admit that, but what he did know was not to poke an already agitated bear. That’s all you were in that moment. A very pissed off bear sitting in the corner of a glass square.

It honestly wouldn’t have been that bad if Peter hadn’t compared it to the cages Magneto had been in. That was when everything seemed to become real for you.

This was only way that there wouldn’t be an absolute hunt for mutants. Your containment in exchange for a lie told by the Secretary of Defense to the entire world. That, no, there was not “mutant attack”, this was an unexplained, isolated incident. One that was now being held in the basement of a government building until your fate is decided.

“Are you allowed to smoke in here?” You ask, picking at the bottom of your white scrubs.

“I didn’t see the signs.” He says, waiting for someone to dare and yell at him about the cigar.

Instead of asking for the cigar verbally you raise a hand towards one of the small breathing holes. He slides it towards you, butt first. Only giving a little direction on how to puff the thing instead of straight up inhale it.

Smoking anything while stressed was a good way to start a bad habit. Something Logan tried to keep you from. Given the situation, he allowed the nicotine high you were gonna get from working on the thing. It was another test for this place. A test to see just how long or how many little rules he could break before someone yelled at him.

Not that he would ever use this knowledge for selfish means. It was just good to know when things would start to go south. Not that the Professor gave him permission, he just didn’t tell him not to.

Kurt Wagner:

Any pictures or footage taken of you during the incident were stolen straight from hell. That was the only aspect anyone cared about; the ones where you were wild and there was nothing in your eyes except for uncontrolled power.

No one thought about the few seconds after the incident. That instead of power there was confusion and fear. Staring at your hands and into the world looking for answers.

That scene only lasted a few seconds. Long enough for the blue devil to match your hell appear and disappear with you.

Like a child you went to bed without dinner. Although it was by choice, and this wasn’t your bed. It was a hiding place in the same building that your seekers were searching. But with a protective layer of blankets, and an extra layer of your boy sitting in front of the door, you could enjoy these last few minutes before your life goes to hell.

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itslaurenmae · 3 years

Note

Aethelflaed for the ask game?

Aethelflaed, Lady of Mercia (from this ask game)

How I feel about this character

I like Aethelflaed. She’s not my favorite female character of the show (that honor solidly goes to HILD), but I love how much we get to see her grow, especially in the second and third seasons of TLK. She is 110% Alfred’s daughter, I don’t care what anyone says - responding to letters in her own handwriting at her estate about the usage of trees on her land? Participating in informal witans at her wedding to the biggest turd of the show? Raising the Mercian fyrds when Edward is twiddling his thumbs in a corner? She’s Alfred’s heir. He’d be so proud of her for coming as far as she has.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

I solidly ship her with Erik in season 2 - that was such an unexpected relationship and I really liked it, largely because it featured a few of my favorite tropes: “savage” but not actually, *we found love in a hopeless place*, star-crossed lovers, “I’ll teach you to read”, etc. He was her Great Love, and she lost him, and that is very sad, but she has her daughter and his memory and I think being with him really changed the way she saw Danes and the world. She grew so much from that.

My current OTP for her is our man Aldhelm. Another unexpected ship, definitely a slow build. Heavily features MY ALL TIME FAVORITE TROPE - courtly love. The devotion he feels for her is part loyalty for his country, part fealty for the woman she is, and absolute, unyielding faith in her. I have so many brain worms about him and his character development, so that’s a dovetail for another day, but suffice it to say I think Aldhelm is the man who is both best for Aethelflaed and best for Mercia in my eyes, and ITS A GODDAMN SHAME NO ONE ELSE IN THIS GODFORSAKEN SHOW SEEMS TO SEE IT.

Non-romantic OTP

I’m gonna shoutout Aldhelm here again, too, because I’d also be okay if they never get together romantically. He made his feelings for her clear in the past, and she’s not reciprocated those. He’s been okay with that, because he is a good person and loves her and Mercia enough to put that all aside for the greater good.

They’re *such* a good team. They complement each other’s working styles so well, they’re great partners in battle and strategy - it’s just such a good dynamic even with no romantic attachment. If they never have sex in the canon, I’ll be okay with it, because there’s so much there still that binds them together.

Unpopular opinion about this character

Whoooop here it is: I do not ship Aethelflaed with Uhtred at all. I feel aggressively lukewarm about this pairing. It’s a weird flex. I know it happens in the books, so the show’s honoring that, but I think it’s boring, and making it a sexual relationship doesn’t really serve the overall narrative. The first time I watched season 4 and we saw they were having sex, I was just like... meh. I’m not one to be a staunch enforcer of “ew, age gaps” but I feel that way a little bit here, and I also just don’t think it’s a smart choice for her. Uhtred is impulsive and impetuous and while I can understand why she’d be attracted to that, I would have appreciated it much more if her attraction to him had remained a kind of girlish crush and not developed into a sexual relationship.

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon

I kind of wish Aethelflaed had told Alfred about how poorly Aethelred was treating her. I think he would have listened, and I think he would have done anything he could to help keep her safe. I know she felt like she needed to stick it out for the good of both Wessex and Mercia and Alfred’s idea of an England, but I believe Alfred loved her and would have been willing to risk the alliance with Mercia if it meant getting her out of that horrible, abusive marriage.

Thank you so much for this ask and for reading this excessively long response!

#aadmelioraa #the last kingdom #answered #ask meme #aldhelm x aethelflaed #aethelflaed x erik #aetheflaed

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shewritestheblues · 4 years

Text

The Elevator Bae x Chapter 8

Chapter EIGHT

Erik x Black OC (Phoenix)

-------------------

“I missed you so fucking much, baby girl.”

“I missed you too, E.” Phoenix huffed between words. Erik’s heavy figure above hers. His head rested in the crook of her neck as he placed wet kisses on her skin. She dug her fingertips into his back as he stroked her slow and deep. Her eyes stuck shut, moan trapped in her throat when she felt a vibration under her body. Where is this coming from?

Phoenix’s body jerked up and she looked around, realizing she was on her couch. It was dark out now and her tv screen paused with Netflix asking if she was still there. Her phone was ringing under her. That’s when it all hit her. She was dreaming. This was the third night in a row that dreamt of him. Three dreams, night after night of Erik doing all of the right things to her. Why is this happening to her?

Erik had been gone for ten days. The first few days, she poured herself into her work. She set up her equipment in her living room and did the best that could. remixing beats she already had and doing some writing. But has the days went on, she found herself thinking about Erik more and more. Thinking about how good he felt when she kissed him. Missing him, but she did everything but actually admit that to herself. She started watching Naruto because it was his favorite show, but she told herself it was because Netflix suggested it. She went out and bought two cases of Merinelli’s Apple Juice. But of course, not because he liked it, but because she ‘enjoyed the juice of apples.’ She told herself that he probably wasn’t even thinking about her. He’ll probably come back and not even bother talking to her again. Two weeks was more than enough time for him to realize that she wasn’t it and she should just prepare herself now, for it.

None of it worked, though she refused to accept the truth that she missed Erik. It ate her up inside that she couldn’t talk to him. He stayed in her mind constantly. She hated to like it.

“This is ridiculous.” She said to herself as she felt under her legs for her phone.

One missed call from Coby. She swiped the notification, selecting Call Back. When he answered, she could hear nothing but pure joy in his voice.

“PHILLY!” he yelled into the phone.

“Hey!” She pulled the phone away from her face and put it on speaker phone.

“My studio is done.”

Phoenix sat up, snatching the phone, bringing it closer to her face. “What! Say swear!”

“I swear. It’s finally done. You gotta come break it in.”

Coby had been working on building a studio in his home. Fully equipt. He promised that when it was done, she’d be the first person her called and she would be the first to record something in it. Before Phoenix could even express her excitement, Ava had taken over the phone call.

“Yeah, Philly. You might as well pack you a bag or three and come on.”

“A bag? Fuck she need a bag for?” Coby says.

“So she won’t have to leave. You know damn well y’all are about to be living in that damn room.”

“Bet!” Phoenix said. “I’m on my way.”

“Yay! We’re having a sleepover!” Ava yells into the phone. “See you when you get here.”

Phoenix ends the call. She rushes into her room to pack some clothes. She may or may not have packed enough to practically move in. She stuffed as much as she could in her giant Victoria Secret PINK duffle. Along with her face and hair products. She looked around to make sure she had everything. Her laptop was on the floor. She could NOT leave without that. She put it in her backpack with its charger and an extra phone charger and headed out the door. She texted Ava.

Phoenix: Be there in 20 minutes.

-------

Coby’s studio was her dream studio. It was huge. As soon as she walked in, purple lights glowed along the bottom of the soundproof glass that separated them from the recording booth. Coby turned on the lights that revealed all black decor and dark, hardwood floors. Phoenix walked in stroking her fingertips along the new equipment. Ava came in, sitting on the couch.

“You peep that?” Ava says, pointing to something inside of the recording booth. Phoenix goes inside to see. She looks up to see a huge black and white picture of her and Coby from when they were in the studio some time ago. One of Coby’s photographer friends had stopped by and took a few cool shots of them. Coby has the picture enlarged on a canvas and placed on the wall inside of the recording booth.

“Oh my gosh, Coby!” she grabbed his arms, shaking him.

Seeing her jump with joy, brought on the biggest smile that man has ever worn. “You like it?”

“I love it! What made you pick this one?”

“Well, we’re a team now, remember? I figured it was only right to put up a picture of me and my partner.”

“Aww… we haven’t come up with a cool name yet though.”

“We’ll figure that out in due time. But you like everything?”

“YES!”

Coby showed her around to look at everything that he had installed. Of course Phoenix’s favorite part was the fully stocked mini fridge and weed cabinet that held all of their smoking necessities. Phoenix wouldn’t be quiet about how proud of him she was. He had been working on this studio for months. He designed the entire thing himself.

They immediately got to work. Phoenix was so excited about the studio, and to be with her friends, she finally got her mind off of Erik… for now. She was able to zone into her work. They created their first beat from scratch in the new space. Just as Ava had predicted, once Phoenix and Coby were in the studio, they were there for the rest of the night. After a few hours, Ava left them and went to bed. It was well into the next morning before the two of them had fallen asleep in the studio. They refused to leave.

--------

The next afternoon, Phoenix enjoyed a hot shower and co-washed her hair. She lotioned up with her favorite vanilla shea butter. She moisturized her hair and washed her face. She put on some sweatpants and a t-shirt. Just as she was applying some chapstick, Ava facetimes her.

“Morning!” Ava cheerfully says into the phone.

“Morning, love.”

“Get down here. I made food. I wanna see you before I leave out.”

“Where you goin’?” Phoenix says as she starts walking out of her chosen guest room to meet Ava and Coby down in the kitchen.

“I have a brand meeting.”

“Alright. I’m coming down the stairs.”

Ava ends the facetime call. Phoenix walks down the large staircase and through the hallway. She can see Coby sitting at the kitchen table. She joins him. They share a look before both breaking into smiles.

“You want eggs?” Ava asks Phoenix from the stove.

“Sure.”

Ava brings Phoenix a full plate of food. Phoenix pours herself some cranberry juice, mixing it with orange juice. Coby watches her mix the two drinks with furrowed brows. “Why do you that? That’s weird.”

“It’s delicious actually.” she takes a sip. “You should try it.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

The three of them sit and eat their food. Ava asked them about what they created in the studio and the way their faces lit up was enough to let her know they had a great session, breaking in the new studio. They played her the song they made. As the beat broke through the speaker, Phoenix’s voice rides the beat effortlessly. Ava squealed in excitement, hearing her friend singing.

Just me and you, nobody gon' break this up, this magic

My nigga, my babe, nobody comes before me and you

Numero uno, you know you my baby

What had these bitches off you lately?

“You sound so good!” Ava says. “You should drop this yourself.”

“I told her ass last night, that she should drop some music.” Coby adds.

Phoenix shakes her head. “Y’all crazy. Ain’t nobody trying to hear me sing.”

“You’re crazy! You telling me that you’ve never thought about releasing some of those songs you have locked away? You have a pretty voice, Philly. I think people would love you.”

“It’s crossed my mind, but I’m good.”

Ava rolled her eyes at her. Coby checks the time on his phone. “You better get out of here before you’re late. Traffic probably already crazy.” Ava takes one last sip of her drink. She gets up from the table, picking up her dishes and taking them to the sink.

“Don’t worry about those. I got it.” Coby says.

Ava leaves her dishes and starts out of the kitchen. “I’ll see y’all in a couple hours.”

Coby listened out to hear the front door open and close. As soon as he did, he looks at Phoenix. She’s so into her food, that she didn’t notice at first. When she did, she locked eyes with him and they stared at each other until one of them blinked first. Phoenix’s eyes couldn’t take it and she blinked. “Fuck!”

“I don’t know why you think you can beat me.”

“Nobody should be able to go that long without blinking. Something is wrong with you.”

Coby continues to stare at her as she eats. As he watches her, he notices that she checks her phone every few seconds. She’s not usually the type to be so caught up with her phone. She checks it again, this time, locking it and flipping it over.

“What’s up with you?” he asks.

“Hm? What are you talking about?”

“You keep checking your phone. You expecting a call or something?”

“No.” she says quickly.

Coby smirks. “You waiting on Erik to text you?”

Her face drops and she rolls her eyes, trying to avoid looking in his direction. “No. I was-- I was just checking the time.”

Coby notices the change in her demeanor and the protector in him activates. “What happened? That nigga do something?” His words came out slightly louder than how he was talking before. They were stern.

“No,” she waves him off. “Nothing happened. I haven’t even talked to him.”

“Why not?”

Phoenix looks at him in disbelief. She feels like she’s getting grilled by her Mom. “He’s away right now… for work.”

“And he can’t talk to you? What the fuck do he do?”

Phoenix isn’t getting out of this conversation so she surrenders and figures she’d just answer Coby’s questions. She sits her fork down and leaned back in her chair. “He’s in the Navy. He had to leave for two weeks.” she says, figuring it was the safest answer. She can’t be telling people he’s hired to take people out.

“Hm. When did he leave?”

“Last Tuesday.”

“You must have gave that nigga some good-bye pussy or something.”

“Wha-- No!”

“Then why you actin’ weird?” Coby tries to catch Phoenix’s eye to see if she’s lying. She avoids him by looking off at nothing in the kitchen.

“I’m not acting weird. You are. Asking me all of these damn questions.” she snapped.

“You are acting weird. I’m just trying to make sure you good and I don’t have to kill that nigga. I bring his name up and you get all tense and shit.”

Phoenix doesn’t respond. She looks down and picks at her fingers. Coby patiently waits for her to give him something. When she doesn’t, he tries to push a little more. Phoenix is good for keeping things locked in. But not on his watch.

“Aye,” she looks at him. “Talk to me. What’s the problem?”

She takes a deep breath. “I’m just… I don’t know.”

“Phoenix.” his voice was stern.

“I think I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” Coby leaned onto the table, all ears.

“I- I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this.” He motioned for her to go on. “I’ve only ever been with one person and that clearly didn’t end well, and-- I don’t really want to allow someone to hurt me again.”

“That’s not fair Phoenix.”

“What’s not fair?”

“Erik ain’t your ex. It’s not fair to hold what that lame ass nigga did against him. You have to let that shit go.”

Phoenix looked away at nothing again. She knew he was right.

“Aye…” Coby tapped the table. Phoenix looks at him. “I’ma tell you this, but keep it between me and you.” Phoenix agrees with a nod. “My ex, she wasn’t shit. Fucked around on me with half the niggas in the industry. We were supposed to get married and everything but I called off all that shit when I found out what she was out here doing. Everybody knew but me.”

“Wait!” Phoenix interjected with wide eyes. “You were gonna get married, Coby?”

He kissed his teeth. “Yeah man. That was a few years ago and it has nothing to do with my point.”

Phoenix through her hands up in surrender.

“Anyways, as I was saying. I was done dirty but I didn’t let that shit stop me from going after Ava. I still found it in me to care about somebody. I treat her crazy ass like the queen that she is because that hurt shit is the past. Ava is my fresh start and clearly Erik is yours.”

“What makes you think that?”

“It’s all in the music, Phoenix. I’m not stupid. I can always tell what you’re feeling based off what you write. You like Erik. Just let the shit happen.”

Phoenix nods. “I cannot believe you didn’t tell me you were engaged.” she says, trying to steer the conversation away from her and her alleged feelings for Erik.

Coby stands up from the table, picking up their plates. “Happened before I met you. Don’t like talking about it.”

He washed their plates and pans on the stove. Phoenix got up and started walking out. “I’ll be in the studio.”

-----------

The next few days, anxiety filled up in Phoenix. She counted the days down until Erik came back. She continued her stay at Coby’s with him and Ava to distract herself as much as she could. Erik’s return day came and went with no sign of him. He hadn’t texted her. She figured he would. But maybe he was tired and just wanted to rest. But when two more days passed and still no text from him, she figured she would take this ‘L’ like a champ and move on. She didn’t want to talk about it with Coby or Ava and she had lost her desire to make music. It would all be about Erik anyway. She didn’t want to do that to herself.

Phoenix stood over the bed in the guest room that she had rightfully deemed her room and packed up all of her stuff. Ava sat on the bed, watching her.

“You should just move in, Philly. Then we can all be together, all the time.” Ava says.

“You don’t even live here!” They hear Coby yell from his room, down the hall.

“Ain’t nobody even talking to you!” Ava yells back. Her and Phoenix share a look before laughing. “He be killing me, not minding his business.”

“But, speaking of you not living here. When was the last time you went home?” Phoenix asked.

Ava looked up to the ceiling in thought. “It’s been a couple weeks. I should probably go back though. I’m sure the food in my fridge is done for and I definitely need to wash some clothes.”

“Ew, A!” Phoenix laughs. She just shrugs. “Welp… I’m all packed up.”

Ava gives Phoenix a very dramatic sad face. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Relax, love.” Phoenix places a petty hand on Ava’s shoulder. “A couple more weeks and we’ll be ass out on a beach.”

“Yes and then right after that… it’s your birthday.” Ava pokes her in her sides between words, tickling her.

“Stop! No need to be extra. It’s not that big of a deal.” Phoenix throws on her hoodie and slip her feet into her sneakers.

“You bet not say you don’t wanna do anything, because we’re doing something for your birthday.”

“Y’all can’t do it here!” Coby yells.

“SHUT UP!” “BE QUIET!” they yell back. Both rolling their eyes. Why was he listening so damn hard?

Phoenix goes down to Coby’s room where he’s playing 2k and she says her goodbyes to him. She tries to kiss him on the cheek and snaps back, away from her. “Gone with all that shit, Philly. Don’t you see I’m in a game?”

“This game can’t be that damn important if your ear hustling on what me and Ava talking about.”

“Nah, y’all niggas were loud. Which is why y’all need to get out my house.”

Ava storms into the room. “Fuck you! I ain’t going nowhere.” She smacks him in the back of the head, making him pause the game.

“Don’t be putting your little ass hands on me. You can get ya’ shit and leave with your friend.”

Ava leans down to his ear and whispers something to him that makes his eyebrows raise up into his hairline. He clears his throat. “You know what… you can stay, bae.” He looks to Phoenix, “I love you, Phoenix, but you have to go now. This was fun. It really was, but Ava will show you to the door.”

Phoenix is disgusted. “Y’all are gross. I’m out.” She turns on her heels, heading back into the guest room for her bags. Ava follows her downstairs and walks her out.

“Let me know when you get home, okay?” Ava gives Phoenix one of those long, auntie hugs. Back rubs and all.

-----

Phoenix sat at a red light when her phone started ringing over the speakers. When she looked to see who it was, she almost choked on her spit. It was Erik. He was facetiming her. He’s never actually called her before, let alone facetime. They only talked in person or text. Her palms become sweaty at a new record speed. She wiped her hand on her hoodie and hit the green button to answer. The street lights lit her face up enough for him to see her. She looked down into the phone to see his face almost covered with a hoodie over his head.

“Hey.” his voice was deep and raspy.

“Hey.”

The light turns green and Phoenix drives off, quickly looking away from the phone on the mount. He just watched her for a moment as she focused on the road and traffic. “You going somewhere?” he finally asked.

“I’m on my way home. Just left Coby’s.”

“Oh.”

She could tell he wanted to say something more than just ‘Oh.’ As she came to a stop at another red light, she focused her attention back to the phone. “What’s up, Erik?” her tone came out frustrated. He’s been back for days now and he hadn’t texted her at all. He randomly facetimes her and barely has anything to say. She was definitely annoyed with how this was going right about now. He could sense her frustration.

“Can I see you?”

“Sure.”

“How far are you from here?”

She drives off once again. “Like ten minutes.”

“Alright.” There’s movement on his end of the phone. “I’ll wait for you in the garage. See you when you get here.”

“Um… okay.”

The call ends and Phoenix is every bit of confused as to how she should take this. He hasn’t talked to her and now he wants to see her. What the fuck was happening right now?

She arrived in the parking garage of her apartment and Erik is waiting, standing outside his car. She decided to leave her bags in her backseat and gets out to go to him. As she approaches him, he motions to the car, opening the passenger door. “Ride with me somewhere.” Phoenix very hesitantly gets into his car. He gets in and drives off. The ride was silent. He was distant. Not the Erik she had become use to. He was so closed off and she wanted to ask, but didn’t really know how. She didn’t know what to say. She just rode. She laid back into the seat and just looked out the window. The car ride wasn’t long. They pulled into a parking lot and as Phoenix searched around, looking out of the windows, she realized they were at the beach. There weren't many people out. Just a few bodies walking around. Erik turned the car off and opens his door to get out. Phoenix follows. He spares her a look and starts walking onto the sand, toward an empty picnic table. Phoenix doesn’t follow him immediately. She watches him walk and takes note of the slight dip when he takes a step. He turns looking for her and expecting her to be right behind him. When she’s not, he stops to wait. She slowly begins her journey to him. When she approaches him, he takes her hand in his and guides her the rest of the way to the picnic table. Erik steps up onto the table, sitting on the top of it. He leaves just enough room between his legs for Phoenix to sit. He pulls her up on the reserved seat. As she settles into her place between his thighs, he wraps his arms around her torso and rests his face on her shoulder.

Silence.

Neither of them talk. They sit. The moon’s light sits on top of the water before them and faint sounds of the city in the distance. The few people roaming the beach had left, leaving just them with one another. Phoenix listened to Erik’s steady breath in her right ear and the sounds of small waves in the left. She felt calm. The slight irritation she had with Erik had subsided.

The late night breeze flowed right off of the water and a shiver crept up Phoenix’s spine. Erik felt her shake and wrapped his arms around her body completely, holding her tighter.

“Better?” his baritone voice spoke low in her ear.

“Mhmm.” she rested her head back on him.

“I missed you.” he whispered.

Without thinking, Phoenix’s words flew from her mouth. “Then why didn’t you text me?”

“I just needed some space… some time to decompress or whatever.”

“I get that. I just would like to know that you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry. Not really used to having to check in with anybody.”

Phoenix lifted her body from his and turns to look at him. “Well, you don’t have to check in with me then.” she snapped.

Erik sighs. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’ll let you know next time.”

“Nah, you don’t have to worry about it.” she faces forward but folds her body into her lap. Erik pulls her back to him. She resisted at first but eventually submitted. Resting her body against his chest again. She felt defeated. He wrapped his arms around her again, placing his face in her neck. He doesn’t do anything. He just lays there, lips barely grazing her skin. Phoenix silently prayed he’d move, though she wanted him to stay.

“It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.” he said into her neck.

She took in a deep breath. Coby’s words popping up in her mind. ‘Let that shit go. Let Erik be your fresh start.’

“I missed you too, Erik.”

His lips pressed firmly on her neck then. Her body melted more into his.

“Why are you so understanding?” he asked.

She shrugs. “It’s just who I am, I guess.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Why would you say that?”

He lifts his head, looking out at the water. Phoenix’s head falls back onto his chest. His grip around her loosens. “I’m no good for you. You’re too much of a good person for a nigga like me. I do terrible shit and you still find a way to be understanding about it.”

“...Erik.”

“Everything I touch dies, Phoenix. I don’t wanna ruin your life.”

“Shut up, Erik.”

“Phoenix--” She cuts him off and turns to face him again. She pulls the strings on his hoodie and moves her face closer to his. They’re eye to eye.

“I’m a grown ass woman. I make my own decisions, so if you ruin my life, it’ll be because I let you. I’m not scared of none of that shit you’re talking. I had my chance to cut you off when you told me that you’re basically an assassin. You mark your body for every fucking kill Erik. I tried counting them damn scars on your arms and I lost count… three times,” She dramatically throws up three fingers. “I’m understanding because I know what it’s like to only have yourself. I’m understanding because somebody has to be. Somebody has to be a safe space for you.”

Her words hit him right in the chest. Somebody has to be. Nobody had ever tried to be understanding of him. Nobody wanted to be and here this girl is, wanting to be that somebody. He felt a sense of safety with her that he couldn’t explain before and this confirmed everything he was feeling. This woman was special and the only explanation for how he got so lucky was that Bast herself, sent her to him. If that’s what Erik had to tell himself to accept what Phoenix was offering, he would. All Erik could do in this moment was smile. He hadn’t smiled once in the weeks he’d been gone.

Phoenix clutched her pearls. “Erik Stevens without his gold caps? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Shut up.” He grabbed her face, squeezing her cheeks and connecting his lips with hers. He needed to do this. He wanted to since she met him in the parking garage. The kiss turned hot, very quickly. The smacking of their lips seem to quiet out the sounds of the waves hitting the shore. Phoenix gripped his hoodie, pulling him closer. Their awkward position making it hard to do so. She lifted her body from between his legs and straddled his lap. She didn’t miss a beat. Their lips never parted. Erik’s hands gripped her ass, holding her in place above him. Just as Phoenix sucked on his bottom lip, he pulled back.

“Fuck, girl.” he shakes his head, trying to come back to reality. Erik has kissed many, and I mean MANY of women. But none of them felt like this. She made him want her in every way possible. He wasn’t used to this feeling. But, Phoenix has a history of making him feel things he’s not used to feeling. Like, well… feelings. Erik never wanted to just be with someone just to be with them. If it wasn’t about sex, he didn’t care. But, Phoenix… he wanted to sit next to her, talk to her, hold her hand, watch tv with her. The simple things.

“What I do?” she grinned.

“I want you so fucking bad.” the lust in his voice sent heat to her lady parts. She wanted him too. “But… if I’m gonna do this, I have to do it right.”

“What do you mean?”

“I would love to bend yo’ ass over this table right now and just…” He thrusted his body up into hers. Her mouth dropped in shock. He laughed at her reaction. “But, I wanna do right by you. I wanna take you out. I wanna show you a good time first.”

“You wanna court me, Stevens?” she smiles, linking her hands around his neck.

“Yeah. All that shit.”

“Damnn, okay. A bitch ain’t never had that before.” she says in her hoodrat voice.

“Me neither.” He laughed at her and pulled her back in for a few more pecks on the lips.

They continued to sit in this position. Phoenix laid on his shoulder and he rested his face in her neck, still gripping on to her thighs. She rubbed the back of his neck. They sat quietly with the sounds of the night traveled around them.

“E,” she whispered. He moaned in response. “Why the beach? What made you wanna come here?”

“I like to come here to clear my mind.”

“I’m enjoying this. I really am. But, I’m cold.”

His body bounced under hers as he laughed. “Well, I’m good now so we can go.”

Phoenix stands. Erik moves to stand up but pauses and sits back down. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

He drops his head in laughter. “Oh my God, man.”

“What!”

He slowly stands up and his erection is VERY visible through his light grey joggers. Phoenix’s mouth drops and she laughs. She knew he was big from when he chilled with her at her place and she breifly sat on his lap, but seeing this nigga print in these pants, let her know she slightly underestimated him. “And I Oop…” They both leaned over in laughter. Phoenix’s funny reaction was simply a way to stir her brain from the many questions she wanted to ask herself. Was she able to handle that? Ya’ know… when the time came? How big was this nigga? Has he murdered anybody by dick in his past? But she’ll tackle that one later. They were okay. Things were normal.

Erik readjusted himself and they walked back to his car. The ride back to their apartment was different than the ride to the beach. Phoenix connected her phone to his car’s bluetooth and played her music. The air was lighter on their drive. Erik’s hand found its place on her thigh and they both sung along to the songs that played.

-----------

Phoenix and Erik picked up right where they left off. He texted her every morning and they’d text through the entire day, ending the day with a facetime call. The nights she’d be up and in the studio, they’d text until he fell asleep, only to facetime him when she made it in and they’d both sleep with the other on screen until their phones died. It was like they were teenagers again. The butterflies, the cute text. They enjoyed each other.

——-

Phoenix was currently standing in her hallway, locking her door. Before making her way to the elevator she texted Erik.

Phoenix: What’s your code?

She was feeling bits of nervousness. This would be her first time going up to Erik’s apartment. The couple of weeks that Erik had been back seem to have flown by and her vacation with her girls was coming up quick, Erik told Phoenix he wanted to see her before she left. They haven’t seen much of each other since he’s been back with her schedule being hectic. Phoenix had a lot of work and meetings to get through before her trip. She wanted to enjoy her vacation without any work related distractions. Her and Coby had been working tirelessly so the only time she could really see Erik was on their nightly FaceTime calls. He’d always miss her on the elevators.

Erik: 8176.

She pressed the elevator call button.

Phoenix: Great. My goons will be up in a minute to rob your ass.

Erik: Play with me if you want to. I’ll drop you and them niggas.

Phoenix: you wouldn’t do that to me. You would miss me too much.

Erik: maybe I would. Maybe I wouldn’t.

DING! The elevator doors opened and Phoenix stepped on. She typed in his code to enter the Penthouse floors. 8..1..7..6. The twelfth floor light lit up and the doors began to close. She texted Erik back.

Phoenix: I’m not coming up then.

Erik: stop playing baby girl. You know I would miss you.

Erik: I miss you right now.

Phoenix sticks her tongue out, blushing. She locks her screen. The closer she got to his floor, the tighter the knot in her stomach. She could feel her hands getting hot. She tried taking some deep breaths. The cabin stopped and the doors opened. She stepped out and looked to her left and to her right. There was an apartment door in both directions. Erik didn’t mention which direction his door would be. She unlocked her phone, calling Erik.

“Hey baby girl. Where you at?”

“Um, I’m in the hallway. You never told me if your door is to the left or right of the elevators.”

“Oh shit. My bad. The right.”

Phoenix goes right and the door begins to open. Erik steps out with a smile sitting beautifully on his face. He made Nike shirts look like the most exquisite shirts on the market. His dreads were pulled up into a pineapple. The smell of seasoned chicken flowed out into the hallway meeting Phoenix as she greeted him with a hug. He steps aside, letting her in. First glance and Phoenix was stunned. The sleek and modern black and gold decor was designed perfectly. The high ceilings and floor to ceiling glass windows gave the most amazing view of the city. She walked in, looking around, noticing the African Art along the walls.

“Ohhhh, he got moneyyy!”

“Would you like a tour?”

She whipped her head around to him. “Yes, actually. I would.”

“C’mon.”

She follows him as he leads her more into his penthouse. They walk through his huge living room where he has the largest sectional couch that Phoenix has ever seen. It looked so comfy and she couldn’t wait to get lost in it. A 90” tv set on a stand in front of it.

“Full bar over there.” he points to underneath the stairs. “Dining area. Kitchen.” He takes her hand and leads her past the kitchen into a hallway. There are two doors to right. The first is a guest bathroom. The second door is a guest bedroom.

“Damn, Stevens! Your guest room is bigger than my living room. Go off with your rich ass.”

“You’re silly, baby girl. C’mon, we’re going upstairs.”

They make their way back into the main area to go upstairs. She follows him up and notices his pants hanging low on his waist. This nigga has cake.

“Damn, you kinda thick, E.” she pats him. He stops mid step and turns to give her the straightest face.

“Don’t do that shit again.”

She puts her hands up in surrender. “My bad big booty E.”

“Chill.” They continue their trip up the stairs and the space before them was big enough to be another living room. There were some workout equipment, neatly stacked against the wall.

“Oh this is where you be growing ya’ cheeks at.”

“Phoenix, you got one more time to mention my ass before I put you out.”

“Alright, alright. I’m done.” she smirks at him.

He takes her through some sliding doors that lead to his bedroom. The walls were white with a dark grey accent wall behind his bed. A TV was up on the wall between his large windows. The shades were down, blocking out the cities lights. His california king bed dressed in black and purple. A large black panther picture hung on the wall.

“I have an idea, E.” Phoenix says, rubbing her chin.

“What’s that?”

“I move into this room and you take the one downstairs.”

“You sound crazy. You could just join me in this one.” he winks at her.

“Nope. I need all of this to myself.”

“Nah. I come with it. All or nothing. If you don’t like it, you can stay in your shoebox downstairs.”

Phoenix’s mouth drops and she clutches her chest. “First of all, I love my shoebox.”

He wraps his arm around her shoulders. “C’mon, we’re almost done with the tour.”

She walks with him to the other side of his room and through another set of sliding doors. They step into his master bathroom. His shower had three shower heads and a bench. The tub sat in front of a large window and another tv was on the wall in front of it. “I’m sold. I might have to take you up on your offer now.”

“Oh now you want me?”

“Technically,” she put a finger up. “I never said that I didn’t.”

“You’re something else.” He walks out and she follows him. Right outside the bathroom’s doors was a small hallway that lead into his closet. He turned on the lights, revealing his amazing collection of clothes, sneakers, jackets, and a jewelry case full of chains and watches and few pair of earrings. Straight ahead was a large mirror. Phoenix walked right passed his clothes. Fuck his clothes honestly. The white light in the closet made for good lighting and the mirror called her to take the perfect picture.

“OH! It’s picture time.” She pulled out her phone, snapping a full cute pics, catching her body at all of the right angles. As she tried to get a new position, she noticed Erik leaning against the wall behind her. She hadn’t realized that he was visible in her pictures before. She stopped and looked at him.

“What?” he was lost as to why she was giving him the stink look.

“Get out my picture.”

He rolled his eyes, stepping out of her camera’s view. She snapped a few more pictures.

“Are you done?” he called out. She walks back to him.

“Yes. All done. Thanks.”

He turns off the lights and they both leave out of his room. As they walked toward the stairs, he points to a door on the other side, “That’s my office. I’m redoing it right now so it’s a mess in there.”

They go downstairs and into the kitchen where the food Erik had cooked sat on the stove. He made stuffed chicken, cheesy, garlic potatoes and grilled asparagus. Phoenix sat in the wooden barstool at the kitchen island as he prepared their plates.

“Red or White?” he asked without turning around.

“Hmm, white.”

Erik placed two plates of food on the counter in front of her. He grabbed two wine glasses from a cabinet, placing one in front of her. “You’re a sweet kind of woman aren’t you?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“Lucky guess.” He walks away out of her sight. When he comes back, he has a bottle of Moscato. He effortlessly pops the cork and pours into their glasses. He takes his seat next to her, pulling her seat closer to him. He grabbed her chin, bringing their faces just a breath from each other. He licks his lips and places a peck on hers, making a small closed mouth smirk appear on hers. “Eat up, baby girl.”

Phoenix pulled away from him. “You don’t tell me what to do, Stevens.” She picks up her fork and starts eating. He watches her with prey like eyes.

“We’ll see about that.” he finally says with a low tone before digging into his food.

As they enjoyed their meal, they talked about random things. How they’re sick of the construction outside of their building. Phoenix has a hair appointment the next day. Nothing major. Well about halfway through dinner, the conversation shifted.

“So,” Erik sat his fork down. “Your birthday is coming up. You and your crew planning something?”

Phoenix sipped her wine. “My crew? No. This vacation is enough for me. I don’t wanna do anything really.”

“I thought the trip was Camrens’s birthday gift?”

“It is. But, I don’t know, it’s right before mine so I’m okay with just that.”

“Why?” He was watching the side of her face.

“Not really a birthday person.”

“I’ve never met a woman that wasn’t a birthday person.”

She finally looks at him. “I mean, as a kid, I was. But the older I got, it just seemed so… extra. I would only do something because my brother wanted to.”

“Brother?!” Erik’s eyebrows raised high. “You have a brother?”

Phoenix rolls her eyes. “Yeah. A twin, actually. Zion.”

“You’ve never mentioned having a brother.”

“Because…” she takes a sip. “We don’t talk. He don’t fuck with me and I don’t fuck with him.” Her demeanor changed. Phoenix is tense now. She clenches and unclenches her jaw and the slight eye rolls as she talks let Erik know that her brother is a trigger. He waited patiently for her to figure out her words before she continued. “I don’t hate him. I just-- I don’t know.”

Erik turns his body to face her and let her know that she has his full attention. “You don’t have to talk about it.” She cups her glass with both hands, slowly taking sips. There’s a beat of silence.

“I’m here.” She began. Her voice small. “I’m living a decent life, doing what I love to do and he’s not.” she shrugs. “He hates me for that.”

“Hate is a strong word.”

“He hates me, E. He said it. He’s convinced himself that I just have hella money and because I won’t move him out here and pay his way through school or fund any of his ideas, I’m not a good sister. He’s the only boy in the family, so everybody has always babied his big ass. I’m not doing that. I’ve worked hard. I’ve earned everything that I have. He can do the same.”

“I understand that. Ain’t shit free.”

She looks at him in disbelief. Everyone (her family and old friends from back home) felt like she was being too harsh on her brother for wanting him to put in some kind of work. They had always just given him what he wanted, no matter the cost. Phoenix had worked for everything. She had a job at 16 while her brother did whatever he wanted. He was given his first car from an uncle while Phoenix saved up her money to get herself one. That same car she saved up for is the same car that she drove to California. Everyone excused her brother actions because he was just a free spirit. Phoenix was too but she still had some discipline.

“Why you look at me like that?” Erik asked.

“Because… you’re the first person to actually agree with me.”

“Hell yeah, I agree with you! That nigga better get a damn job.” That made her laugh. “Phoenix and Zion though. Interesting names for twins.”

“Our names were gonna be Zues and Megara since Hercules was my mama’s favorite movie.” Erik burst into laughter. “Thank God my grandma threw a bible at her ass and put a stop to that.” Phoenix joined in on the laughing.

Erik wiped a tear from his eyes, his laughter calming down. “Oh man. Speaking of names though. Can I tell you a secret?”

“Let me guess, Erik isn’t your real name or something?” she says, jokingly. Erik just looks at her, eyebrows raised. His silence answering his question. She slams her hand on the counter. “ERIK ISN’T YOUR REAL NAME?” she starts to raise up from the barstool. “Oh, fuck this. I’m out.”

Erik stops her, grabbing her arm. “Hold up. Hold up.” she snatches her arm from his hold. “Hear me out.” she motions for him to continue. “Technically, Erik is my name, but I also have my Wakandian name.”

“You better not be fucking with me.”

“I’m dead serious. I’m Erik Stevens but my real name is N’Jadaka.”

Phoenix takes a deep breath, staring at him like he has three heads. A whole minute passed with her just looking at him. “I need more wine.” she finally says.

“Nah,” Erik stands, taking Phoenix’s hand, “ I know what you need.

Some dick! Her brain screamed at her. “What’s that?”

She followed him to the couch. He turned on the tv and picked up a blunt from the coffee table. They lean into each other, shoulder to shoulder as Erik lights the blunt, taking two drags of it and passing it to Phoenix. She takes a hit, holding in the smoke longer than she needed and slowly blowing it out. They passed the blunt back and forth until it was gone. They settled into the couch as Naruto played on the tv. Phoenix had come clean during one of their late night facetime calls that she started watching the show while he was gone and that she really liked it. They agreed to watch it together and here they were. As their highs hit them more, Erik dimmed the lights in the living room and got comfortable laying on Phoenix’s lap. They remained in this position until Phoenix’s legs were numb. She repositioned herself under him to lay fully on her back and he placed his body over hers, resting his head on stomach. He was heavy but she liked it. She wanted him to stay there forever.

Phoenix had been absentmindedly playing in Erik’s locs for an entire episode. When she realized what she was doing, she stopped. His hand came out of nowhere and placed her hand back in his hair. She giggled and continued rubbing his scalp again. She looked down at him and noticed that his eyes were closed. This man was falling asleep.

“Erik…” she called him softly.

“Hm.” he moaned.

“Are you sleep?”

“I’m resting my eyes.” his voice was low and raspy. He was definitely asleep. Phoenix waited a couple minutes before calling his name again, but this time she didn’t receive a response. She pulled out her phone, opening her front camera and took a picture of them. Erik’s face buried in her stomach and her fingers, tangled in his locs. She then opened her Instagram, swiping to make a story. A boomerang of course. She made one with the caption ‘Niggas be like, I’m just resting my eyes.’ She posted it and sat her phone down on the floor. She was pretty tired herself but the truth is, she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay right here, under him. So she did.

--------

Erik naturally woke up a little after 7am. He wanted to lay with Phoenix longer but his body was so used to waking up early, he knew he had to just get up. As soon as he moved from off of her, she curled up into the fetal position. He grabbed a blanket, placing it over Phoenix’s now balled up body. He stood over her, admiring how peaceful she looked while sleep. He then headed upstairs into his bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. He changed into some compression pants and basketball shorts. He remained shirtless and went out to his workout area and began his at home workout.

An hour later, he was sweaty and tired. He checked over the railing to see Phoenix still asleep. She was still balled up in the same spot. He laughed to himself remembering that she never wakes up before noon. He goes back into his bathroom to shower and change into some fresh clothes. He left his locs to lay wildly over his face and came back downstairs to clean up last night’s dishes. The clanking of the dishes and ruffles of the dishwasher still didn’t get Phoenix to wake up. She was a hard sleeper. The opposite of Erik. Maybe it was his Navy training, but Erik could hear wind shift directions in his sleep. It was still early, just after 10. He’s let her sleep in some more.

He sat near her on the couch to watch some tv and lazily scrolled through his phone. He opened the Instagram app and the first thing he noticed was Phoenix’s profile picture at the top of his screen, glowing pink. He tapped it and the boomerang of them played over and over. He looked at her from the corner of his eye. He did everything he could to conceal the grin that threatened to appear on his face as if someone was watching. He watched it more times than he would care to admit. Phoenix began to stir in her sleep. One of her feet poked out from under the blanket. Her sock was missing and her neon pink toes struggled to find shelter under his thigh. He picked up her foot, setting it on his lap and started massaging her foot. He did this while watching tv until his fingers were tired.

It was approaching noon and Phoenix still hadn’t budged. She had a hair appointment in a few hours and Erik knew it was time to wake her. He softly shook her leg, calling her name.

“Philly. C’mon, baby girl. Get up.”

“Hm?” she moaning from under the blanket.

“Get up.”

He had to shake her a little harder for her to actually wake up. She sat up, stretching her arms over her head. She looked disheveled-- her hair were all over her head, she looked confused about where she was and she was missing a sock.

“Morning, baby girl.” He sat back, rubbing her unsocked foot again.

“Morning.” she yawned. She stared blankly ahead, trying to process that she’s awake now. The fresh scent of his body lotion traveled under her nose and she looked at him, taking in the fact that he was fully dressed and looked damn good.

“You smell good.” her tired voice rung out.

“Thank you.”

“How long have you been up?”

“Like seven thirty.”

She shook her head, “Early as fuck,” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “What time is it now?”

“Almost noon. Figured I’d wake you up so you’re not late for your hair appointment.”

Phoenix shifted her body and laid her head on his lap. “I don’t want to go to that.”

“Nah, Phoenix. Get yo’ ass up. You’re not about to blame me for your hair not being done later.”

Phoenix moaned in protest. He slipped his hand in her curls, rubbing her head. “How am I supposed to get up and you’re doing shit like this?”

He stopped and lifted her up from him. He held her chin, “Because… you need to go wash your hair, wash your face, brush them teeth and put some lotion on this ashy ass foot you had on me.”

She swatted his hand from her face. “You can suck my ass, Erik. My foot ain’t ashy.”

“I’ll do more than suck your ass, baby girl.” he licked his lips. Phoenix watched closely as his tongue grazed his lips. She had zoned out, flashing back to all of the dreams that she’s been having of him doing just what he said. Her breathing hitched and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. The snapping of his fingers in front of her face, snatched her from her mind.

“Hm?”

He raised a brow at her. “You were thinking about me sucking your ass, huh?”

“What-- No!”

“Mhm.” he chuckled.

“I see you want to start with me early today.” she says as she stands and searches under the blanket for her sock.

“Early? Girl, half the damn day is gone.”

“Whatever. It’s early to me.” She finds her sock and sits down to put it on. She fills on the floor for her phone, checking it and seeing that the group chat with her friends is currently up in flames with 23 unread messages. She swipes to open the thread and finds that she’s butt of their jokes.

Mica: I know Phoenix up. She’s avoiding us right now.

Camren: lmao. That’s because Erik giving her that morning wood.

Mica: Right! “Niggas be like” head ass.

Ava: She think she slick too. Y’all notice how she made sure you couldn’t see his face?

Camren: yessss! No face. No Case.

Mica: lmfao.

“Oh my goodness.” Phoenix drags a hand over her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“My crew as you call them, they’re lighting my ass up right now about something I posted on Instagram.”

“Oh, that boomerang?” Her head snapped in his direction. “Yeah, I seen that.” he bit his lip to stop himself from smiling.

“How did you see that?”

“I follow you.”

“What? When-- when did you follow me?”

Erik shifted his focus to his phone, looking unbothered at the fact that he just snitched on himself. “I been following you.”

“Since when?”

“Don’t worry about all that. Stop being fake bougie and follow me back.”

Phoenix was stunned that she didn’t know this information. She felt exposed. “This is weird. What’s your name?”

He snatched her phone from her hands and searched his name @Kingkill_ . His page was private so he requested a follow from her page. He exited out of the app and opened her messages, going to her group chat. Phoenix watched, confused as to what he was going to do. He tapped the photo icon and the camera popped up on screen.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Erik pushed Phoenix down onto her back, and straddled himself over her. She tried to grab the phone but he held her wrist in place and tapped the red button to record. He started dramatically humping her and laughing.

“Get off me nigga.” she shouted.

“Hold on, baby. I’m almost done.”

One of Phoenix’s hands broke free from his grip and she swung on him, reaching for her phone. He jumped up and ran. She pushed herself up from the couch going after him. He ran into his guest bedroom and locked the door. Phoenix banged on the door, shouting for him to open the door.

“I will break this bitch down. Open the door Erik.”

“Try it if you want to.”

Erik leaned his large figure against the shaking door. He proceeded to send the compromising video to her friends in the group chat. After hitting send, he unlocks the door and Phoenix stands there looking pissed with her arms folded over her chest. He hands her the phone and she snatches it and storms off.

“You really mad?” He goes after her.

She tries her best to not break her fake mad face. But seeing him laugh at her, she couldn’t hold it. “You play too much. They’re about to drag my ass.”

“C’mere.” He grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her, placing kisses all over her face. “You like it on the low.” She pushed herself off of him.

“I have to go get my hair done. I’ll see your childish ass later.”

As she turned to go put on her shoes, Erik smacks her on her butt and follows her to the door. All ready to go, she goes in for a hug and quickly gripped his face in her small hand and blew her breath in his face. The smile on his face dropped and snatched his face away. “You nasty! Get out of my house.”

Phoenix broke down in laughter. “That’s what you get for playing.”

#the elevator bae #erik x phoenix #shewritestheblues

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retphienix · 4 years

Video

youtube

Ah. What a game this has been so far.

Now I had a million thoughts I wanted to share as this played out, lord knows I’ll forget a good portion of them but that’s the nature of my own ineptitude- plenty of things I’ll remember MILES after this post or only if prompted in a specific way and that’s just how it is.

To start- this isn’t the end of DQ11 for the blog just yet. I usually don’t dive into post game unless it feels right or people ask and I’m convinced- and more or less both happened this time. It does feel right- I have definite goals I want to tackle before saying I’m happy with what I did here- and more than one person has mentioned that the post game is worth touching so I’ll be doing that.

Also, for those unfamiliar with my long winded utter mess of a finale post style I go for- this is a lot of rambling as I try my best to touch on my thoughts on the game overall because I like to share. Feel free to just press “J” on your keyboard and skip right passed this- I know **I** struggle to focus my eyes to read long winded posts so I won’t blame you.

Also also, in order to try and spark some of those thoughts I had during this recording the first bit is gonna be me re-watching it as I wait on the video to finish processing and saying what comes up.

To start- really wish there was a save point there lol. I get that it’s a painfully easy backtrack to the save point at the start of the castle- but still, I like convenience.

The Dark Lord’s first form is a huge step up from his form before absorbing Yggdrasil and this first form fight was fun and had me itching to say some good things about it but honestly? I want to save praise for the fight that deserves it- phase 2.

PHASE TWO THOUGH!? GOD TIER RPG FIGHT.

I’ve seen better, sure, but come on, we’ve ALL seen better at all times on all things especially considering preferences coming into it- this was a 10/10 boss fight, top to bottom.

Design? Beautiful. Even continued the DQ obsession with puns with his tail being Mordragon, that is so PERFECT so ‘chef kiss’ flawless and it’s just a name. I LOVE how he looks. I LOVE how he moves around the arena changing which head you’re facing.

I love how each had different strengths to contend with (which I abruptly fucked up, don’t call me out, I’ll prove I know what was going on right here and right now-). The dragon had strong melee and breath attacks while the dark lord himself had magic aplenty.

I even utilized swapping out for the first time ever not because I hadn’t seen the value beforehand (I’ve spoken on how interesting a strategic option it was seeing as every unit has unique moves to bring to the table and it costs nothing but ATB for that unit to do).

Now, I fucked that up, but I did it purely because this is the first fight up to this point that felt right to do so. It’s the first time the tactical value of switching out to buff defenses with Hendrik outvalued ignoring that option and maintaining my ATB on whomever I would switch out. THAT FELT SO GOOD! And then I let my braindead fingers buff defense on a magic phase and you see the point. It was brilliant but I was not!

I did end up ignoring the option after a few turns not because the value wasn’t there, but because he ALSO spams stat neutralizing moves which made me reconsider focusing so heavily on buffs and instead focusing on maintaining steady heals (mostly with Hustle dance).

This fight? Beautiful. I loved every second of it. I loved adjusting my playstyle on the fly, I loved finding my footing. I just loved it.

Beyond that- the ending. I got a chuckle out of how abrupt the credits come in. It seems to wind up for an end sequence only for Erik to say “Well, let’s go home” and it cuts to the credits- but THEN the credits ARE the end sequence so it wasn’t ACTUALLY as abrupt as it seemed, but it got a laugh out of me.

Now those credit scenes? I’m a sucker for games that make you fall in love with the characters and this was an ending catering to those characters. Not too much to say outside of “I was smiling the entire time” which is true.

There were a couple moments in that sequence that I said aloud “JUST HUG HIM YOU COWARD” to various characters, like Hero and Rab, or the two dorks (hero and Gemma), etc.

And they played on the mystique of the post game’s content well enough to pull people in I’d say- certainly more than what I recall DQ8 doing with the dragon trials.

I am probably wrong, but I recall the game drawing next to no attention to that post game content aside from a few moments in the game dragging you to the location only to not let you access it (hinting at more being there).

Anyway.

Honestly, after rambling about the video itself I feel a lot of what I wanted to say about DQ11 was said during the playthrough just fine. I rarely feel that way.

DQ11 was fun.

As a DQ fan, you can best believe I had fun.

As a stick in the mud who is disillusioned toward the game industry and doesn’t like a lot of the filth that accumulates within it- I obviously have a few negative thoughts on the game, but there really aren’t perfect games so much as perfect experiences based on how it affected you.

And I’ve voiced those annoyances plenty I think. For completion sake there are cut corners on animations that seem off when other places have a ton of attention to detail, that’s like bottom rung “I don’t actually give a shit” stuff though.

The bigger problems were Sugiyama is a horrible piece of human garbage and the game is lesser because of his influence on it. There are plenty of reasons behind that both big and small. Big- it feels gross having a human shitsack touching this game after having been so vocal for years- there are replacements at the ready and we still have his LGBT hating, war crime denying fingers handling the music? Shameful.

Small (but man did it fucking suck) being that every five minutes I was annoyed at the music in this game. It sounds Bad. And I mean both orchestral and midi, it’s not great compared to anything he made before for DQ, but the fact that it’s midi in this is EAR BLISTERING.

I’m not one to listen close to most music while playing for whatever reason- and I admit that knowing who’s responsible is half of why my ears tuned it in instead of tuning it out, but man I couldn’t help it and it sucks.

The same 3 second ear rattling loops are ALL OVER THE PLACE. Grandiose moments are cut short by bland midi tunes. MAIN STORY MOMENTS ARE LACKING MUSIC ALTOGETHER FOR SOME REASON? When the hero gets the flute and plays it for the first time it just DIDN’T MAKE A NOISE? Subsequent uses of the flute made a noise, but not the main first cutscene?

It’s a whole thing.

And don’t make me get that dirty capitalist pain in my chest over the fact the S version was released 2 months after this and includes so much content that SCREAMS “This already existed and we diced and quartered it specifically to create the illusion of ‘value’ for this release”. Disgusting, man. :/

Gameplay wise, the biggest complaint I have is so loaded and half hearted but I have to say it anyway.

DQ is good because it’s simple.

DQ can also be a little lacking because it’s simple.

This was the second most fun I’ve had playing a main series DQ game (DQIII just hits right), and it definitely has better gameplay (so my opinion is subjective) than the one I prefer to this. But it was also a bit too simple... But you can’t change that and be DQ, it’s complicated.

To just say it- other than the final boss every encounter was a bit too easy. And I know I overlevel, I know that’s the point, I know there’s a hard mode modifier- I KNOW, but the final boss was REALLY GOOD AND still not too hard, so the fact that most every other encounter did the minimum or the minimum +1 is a little tiny (just a bit) disappointing because the gameplay could have been that much better.

But. That could just be my head spinning tales and being a biased asshole especially since I’m not offering any solution here and I’m admitting it’s both “better than my favorite gameplay in the main series” and “probably can’t be made more involved without losing DQ simplicity”.

But I’d kill for some different or new systems on top of this- dual and triple techs from Chrono instead of RNG pep, bosses with more varied strategies instead of “stun 2-3 and do raid wide attack”.

A reason to care about elemental damage (both incoming and outgoing), plenty of little things that would just make the already solid as hell combat more interesting to participate in.

Story was honestly fantastic. I didn’t know how I was going to end that until I just let it come. It was. This is the best DQ story thus far, and not to limit it to that scope- this was a GOOD DAMNED STORY overall and I’ve played a fuckload of games with good stories.

Before this I was a sucker for the original trilogy’s overarching story, which is unfair because that’s 3 games and that’s an old story and it’s only “good” because it’s unprecedented. But this is just plain great.

It writes such beautiful characters- it tackles a variety of conflicts both big and small- you have Sylv and his dad, you have a possessed king declaring his daughter Jade dead and Jade knowingly betraying him without knowing he’s possessed, you have Erik giving up on life and only putting himself so deeply into this adventure as a means of escape, you have Hendrik’s loyalty being- I can’t pretend Hendrik fits in he’s fucking stupid and needs to ask questions because loyalty for the sake of loyalty isn’t interesting at all lol.

You have Rab believing the world is doomed and doing all he can with Jade up until they find you are alive. You have the INCREDIBLE story of Veronica and Serena- you have all these intensely lovable and understandable characters (and Hendrik) and the story is so much more about them than just about the dark lord and the hero.

It’s so much more about each of their conflicts and growth because all of that is HOW the hero will defeat the dark lord.

It’s just so much more... investing than any of the stories I’ve had in DQ before and strong as hell amongst stories beyond just DQ.

I loved this. It was emotional at times, it was downright depressing at times which I wouldn’t expect DQ to successfully hit, it was downright rewarding getting to know these characters and I feel fantastic having beaten this.

This game is fucking good. I finally understand why some people have told me this is their favorite DQ now. It... yeah I think it might be mine too.

I’d be much more likely to revisit DQ3 than this because it’s shorter and has a specific kind of RPG (class based with freely recruited partners instead of named party members) I find more fun to revisit, but yeah, I think I agree.

I think for main-series DQs this is it, this is my favorite. It has to be, right? It’s got so many INCREDIBLE story moments and it’s pretty and it plays great- yeah. Hell, Sylvando as a character and Serena and Veronica’s arc BY THEMSELVES convince me of that.

Still got nothing on DWM and DWM 2 on the GBC, WOOOOT! Didn’t expect this post to divert from a serious closing thoughts (despite there being a few more posts to come) topic to posting this did you?

Behold the true faces of DQ perfection.

#RetPlays #Dragon Quest 11 #Dragon Quest XI #Dragon Quest

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earnestly-endlessly · 4 years

Note

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

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

College/University Cherik AU

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

A Road Trip to Pennsylvania – Aainiouu

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

Of kittens and teacups and love – Ren

Love Medley – ikeracity

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

it was a red scarf semester – ikeracity

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

Can You Feel My Heart – FuryRed

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

He hates Charles. Probably…

Enemies With Benefits – bettysofia

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

CMUniverse - Pookaseraph

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

Math Reasons - pearl_o, pocky_slash

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

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

Still Life with Cookies – stlkrchck

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

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

The Pretender – Clocks

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

That time the System didn’t work – bluexlily

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

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

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

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

Accidentally Welcome to the Rest of Your Lives - Kianspo

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

A Study in Advanced Lecherism - orphan_account

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

Learning Curve – pocky_slash

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

Charles Does Not Buy a Shamwow - Madneto

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

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

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

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

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

Home Together (The Finding Our Way Remix) – significantowl

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

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

Building a fire – dedkake

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

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

April Showers – ikeracity

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

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

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

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

Mutant House at Dead Kings College – mabyn

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

Best of Enemies – Black_Betty

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

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

Seriously.

The Luck You’re Born With – Lynds

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

Like Roses and Wine – Schwoozie

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

Every Song I Know – Fengirl88

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

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

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

Argue me tender, argue me true – Wild_Imagination

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

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

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

Simultaneity – TurtleTotem

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

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

in the moonlight, on a joy ride – scarlettblush

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

Mutually Beneficial Transaction – Pookaseraph

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

Authority kink – aesc, Subtilior

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

Tonight.

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

An Ideal Grace – afrocurl, nekosmuse

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

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

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

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masterofmagnetism · 4 years

Text

The Other Side

WHO: @jeangrcysummers and Erik. Mentions of @burdenedxtelepath, @firstxman, @mysteriousdumbass, @mistressxfmagnetism WHEN: The first night of the siege of Manhattan WHERE: Stark Tower WHAT: Jean confronts Erik, suspicious (correctly) that he’s done something to Kara to make her act out of character. Erik pulls out the ye olde manipulation skills and gaslights Jean into doubting herself, growing angry about things long past, and eventually comforting him by the end of a very long and hard conversation and trudge down memory lane.

(He’s very good at what he does.)

WORD COUNT: 12.8k. It’s me and Lola. What do you expect? TWs: This one’s a doozy. Manipulation/gaslighting, murder, ptsd, anxiety, violence, torture, holocaust mention, suicidal ideation, injury. It’s a heavy one emotionally, so proceed w caution.

JEAN: Jean Grey was an angry kid. From her very first day in the classroom, the teacher was phoning her parents, or talking to them with a frown at the school gates, explaining that Jean just seemed to feel things more intensely than most people. It manifested in ways that made other people’s lives more difficult, but the person who suffered the most, undoubtedly, was Jean. It always came back around on her in some way, in some fashion that she couldn’t predict, that she didn’t want to predict when the rage was burning its way through her chest and causing her hands to ball into fists.

Jean Summers was an angry woman. She told herself she had changed from that kid on the playground with arms crossed against her chest arguing against the injustice of it all, told herself she had matured from a teenager who would fight her own shadow as long as it meant she had something to go to war for, but it wasn’t true. She knew it wasn’t true. It just took reminding, sometimes, for her to realise just how little she had changed through all of her lifetimes.

What happened to Kara? That was one of the biggest reminders she could think of. Kara’s face flashed in her mind, and instead of warmth, or comfort, or a smile coming onto her face, Jean wanted to rip the world in half.

No. The world could wait. Erik would meet her first.

She lowered herself onto the landing strip at Stark Tower, scrunching her nose as the logo shone back at her in the diminishing sunlight. The day was almost over, a full twelve hours since they stepped foot into that U.N. meeting, a full eleven and a half hours since Mystique dropped a man to the ground, staining the carpet with his blood.

Oh, Jean was angry about a lot of things.

“Erik,” she called out, the second she was through the doors. Her voice reverberated through the empty corridors, bounced off the marble steps, mingled with the metal in the walls. He would know she was here, just as she knew, instinctively, when he was on the same continent, even in those years they spent apart. Jean loved people, and they settled in her ribcage. It was the way it had always been.

Jean Summers never changed.

“Erik!” she called out again, ascending a staircase -- and then she found him. At least, she found the back of his head as he stood, looking out over the city they’d taken. A city they’d taken through violence, and bloodshed, and intimidation. It was what they needed, to win a war, but what right did they have to stoop to those levels? What right did he have, to do it without speaking to her?

She came to a stop, crossing her arms against her chest in an attempt to stop her hands from shaking. “We need to talk,” she started, voice even, clear, crisp -- at least at the start. The next time her mouth opened, the words came out shaky. Not with fear, not with hesitation, not with trepidation, but with a simmering anger that she couldn’t shake off. “We need to talk about Kara.”

ERIK: Erik was no fool. He knew Jean was angry--he'd known Jean was angry from the moment they'd been transported to Stark Tower. He could feel it rolling off of her, targeted at both Raven and himself, but Jean hadn't said anything. Not at first.

She was simmering. He knew more than a bit about that. He knew when she left the tower shortly after they'd gotten there that she wanted space to think, to stew, to gather her thoughts before she confronted him. He was ill-inclined to complain, since it gave him time to think, too.

So when she landed, he thought he knew what was coming--mentally followed her steps until she was in the room behind him. And then she spoke.

And made her first mistake. Erik frowned in the window, adopted an expression of surprise as he turned to look at her. His mind was locked down, now, without the need for a psylink. He couldn't afford to betray anything.

"I knew you wanted to talk. But Kara? Your friend the...journalist, was it?" he asked, eyebrows knitting. "Is she stuck in the city? Do you want me to let her leave?"

He knew the real reason. Knew that Kara was Supergirl, that that was the relevant problem. But Erik had no reason to know that. And to admit that he did would admit to far more.

"I thought you wanted to talk about Raven."

JEAN: The age old adage was that love and hate were separated by a very thin line, the insinuation that intense emotions clouded you to what side you stood on. Jean had been dealing with that assumption her entire life. People looked at her burning with rage and they wrote her off. Irrational. Childish. Too passionate for her own good, her empathy conflicting with judgement. They were all wrong.

Jean knew she loved Erik. She’d known that for a long time. It was as much a part of her as the ring around her finger, or her ability to move something across the room, as much as part as the Institute was or Charles. Charles, Rogue, all of these people she’d left in the dust … for what?

For a chance to fight a better war. For a chance to make a difference, to stop someone else from losing the love of their life. For a chance to make Jean Grey worth more alive than she was dead, to spit on that memorial plaque tacked onto the side of the mansion and scream that she was still here, still breathing, still fighting, still a massive pain in everyone’s ass.

She left the people she loved because she trusted the man standing in front of her. At least, she trusted that he loved her enough to hold back when it counted, selfishly believed that for all the forces that had been unable to restrain Magneto, it would be her hand on his arm that would pull him back.

“You know everything, don’t you?” It wasn’t how she’d planned to start this. In the hours she’d had in between the U.N. and now, she’d mapped it out, logically, in a way that would garner his respect instead of prompting an equally emotional response. They both knew how that would end. Well laid plans, and all that. “You know damn well who it is. I can’t read your mind — which really makes me be able to trust you, thanks very much — but I know you. And you know everything.”

He could be so cold, when he wanted to. It wasn’t reflected in his eyes yet, but it would be. She’d seen it before, she’d no doubt see it again. “Talk about what, Erik?” Jean asked. “How she murdered a man in cold blood? How she went against everything we planned before we walked in there? How you could’ve stopped her, but didn’t? Don’t give me bullshit about her being her own person. You know her as well as I do, better.”

A breath, a beat of a moment, then Jean was frowning.

“You’re distracting me,” she said. “You— asshole.”

ERIK: He didn't like manipulating the people he loved. He took no pleasure at all in the conversation he knew was coming, here, in the urgency of diverting Jean from knowing the truth about what had happened with Kara. Not here, not now. Not ever, if he had his way--people liked to say the truth always came out, but Erik had more than his fair share of skeletons long-buried that hadn't dug their way out yet. This could be another.

He didn't like manipulating them. But he'd learned ages ago how to do things he didn't want to, anyway.

Jean was so much like him, when it came down to it--her rage, her impulsiveness, her ability to see the bigger picture, the way that very ability got narrowed in throes of fury. She hadn't been angry often, with him, before Cuba, but he'd seen it against others, knew it well. That meant he knew exactly the buttons he needed to push.

He ignored the accusation and focused on the entitlement, because that... that he could use. "Oh?" he asked, and managed to keep the coldness from creeping in yet because she would feel that, would see it as disingenuous. "I can't possibly know everything, Jean, and I certainly can't keep track of every person every single mutant associates with. Kara was at the wedding, yes, I remember her--and I fail to see what she has to do with any of this."

This next was dangerous, liable to spark the tinderbox, but it was necessary. "In better news," he started, and there was a tone in his voice that even he couldn't quite manage to stick a label on, "I'm glad you seem to have grown use to using your powers on others whenever you feel like it. Mutant and proud, at last. You're not shy about using your telepathy, anymore, are you? Don't even ask anymore, and that's alright. You know you've always been welcome in my head." She knew he was trying to distract her. That didn't mean it wouldn't work. "I've got a lot of things on my mind, I didn't want to bombard you when you're a woman on a mission. And I think we can both agree it’s for the best that we’re not in each others’ heads during an argument."

The board was set. Time for the distraction. “But since you’ve brought it up—you’re right. I could’ve stopped Raven if I wanted to. And so could you. You were in her head, Jeannie, like you were in everyone else’s. One thought, and you could’ve stopped her in her tracks. But you didn’t, did you? Easier to blame me, I understand. Feel free, everyone does. But you could’ve stopped her, just as easily—if not more easily—than I. And you didn’t, and don’t tell me it’s because you didn’t know. You knew what she was going to do. If not at the beginning, than certainly before she snapped his neck. I warned you—and I know you picked up on some of the thought process as I did, because of the way you looked at me. But you didn’t stop her. Because you knew that would show weakness we couldn’t afford in front of the humans. Because you respect Raven’s autonomy enough not to seize control of her like you did him. And maybe, just maybe, because you didn’t mind so much that he died when you could see how much he wanted to do the same to us. So what is it you’re angry about, Jean? That I didn’t stop her? That you didn’t? That she hasn’t been punished? Or are you actually here to ask about what else you heard when I gave you that moment’s warning to make your own choice?”

Distract, deflect, direct. Coax her into a conversation he could have without bringing this whole thing down around his head.

JEAN: She knew how this was going to go down before she arrived, which was why she hadn’t chosen to discuss this conversation with her husband beforehand. Scott shed far too much light on a situation, made her see what was to be gained versus what was to be lost, and right now, Jean didn’t need that logical approach. She needed answers. She needed something to settle the uncertainty that had been swirling in her gut ever since the Raft, ever since the funeral, really, the uncertainty that only grew when she looked across a room and felt none of the warmth from the wedding, or the easy familiarity that came from dropping beside him on the couch, or the comfort of his voice reading poetry. All she found was the other side staring back.

“Don’t do that.” Boundaries. She would do things differently this time than she had in the apartment, before. They could do so much damage now. She needed to keep it controlled, needed to stop it getting close to the chest. Of course, with Erik, everything was close to the chest. “You know exactly what I mean. You’re being pedantic. You’re picking my words apart because the sentiment is right and you know it.”

Kara’s secret was one she trusted Jean with. Jean would die before she said the names Kara and Supergirl in the same sentence. Erik would know that. He knew what loyalty meant, what love meant, how it tore Jean up and tied her in knots. They were stuck at an impasse, and if he could just give her a moment to breathe, to think, she could find a way around it that meant …

“That is not what I meant,” Jean argued, viciously, biting down on her lip to stop words from spilling forth that she knew she wouldn’t mean tomorrow (though wouldn’t she? Wouldn’t she mean them? Everything she’d said so far, she meant). “I’ve never read further into your mind than you’ve allowed. I read you aura, Erik. It … I can’t block all of it out. You don’t think I’ve tried?” Over and over and over again, she’d tried to give the people she loved some privacy. She’d even tried with Scott, and instead bonded them permanently to each other’s minds. “And how dare you— how dare you suggest I would—”

I didn’t want to bombard you … I think we can both agree …

Jean could hear her own heart thumping loud in her ears. “Do not,” she hissed, “decide what I am thinking!” She made her own choices. She defined her own destiny. That’s what she said, that’s what she always said, that’s what kept her sane when she was six feet under again and again and again…

He was talking, again. He was talking and he was well past three sentences, and Jean knew all of her well laid plans were well and truly out the window. They were standing in this place, in the building representative of Avengers and all their follies, looking out over a city that despised them, and they were supposed to feel … proud? They were supposed to feel as if this was something other than another hollow victory gained through violence?

Erik was well past three sentences, and that meant Jean was losing. She didn’t like to lose. The more words he got out, the more they curled around in her brain, turning inside out, making her doubt herself and her decisions and her sanity, if he did it right.

Because this is what he did. This is what he had always done. As a child, she thought it was putting the world to rights, guiding her with a soft hand on her shoulder. Now?

Now she wasn’t so sure.

“I didn’t stop her because contrary to your belief, Erik,” she snapped, “I don’t use my powers to change people’s decisions, or their choices. I held that man there, yes, but I didn’t stop him from saying what he wanted to, deep down. I didn’t make him understand us, because I could. I could’ve walked in there and made every single damn one of them agree with us, but what you don’t seem to understand is that forced submission isn’t genuine victory!”

A good point, well made, but in the beat when she caught her own shaky breath, Erik hit her with another.

That I didn’t stop her? That you didn’t?

Jean’s hands flew down to her sides, hands opening, energy pushing back only strong enough to get him away, to get him to stop, to make him …

”To make him hurt?” a voice provided, from the back of her mind. Jean was gasping, now, heat building up in her throat. She wasn’t going to cry, yet her eyes were burning. ”We could do that. You and me, together, we could take him apart … piece by little piece. He wouldn’t underestimate you then, Jean. He wouldn’t be alive to say a word …”

“Stop,” she said, to the voice or to Erik or to herself. “Just—“

The rest of his words sunk in, and slowly, Jean raised her head to look at him with narrowed eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”

(She knew.)

ERIK: This conversation wasn’t going to be fair. It never would be, when he and Jean were fighting, not really, because Jean Grey knew Erik Lehnsherr as a professor and as a parental figure before she’d ever known him as anything else. He’d been in her heart, and she in his, for years before Cuba had happened and ripped everything apart. Jean had seen Erik in battle, since then, though he’d always been holding back a bit around her. His goal had never been to hurt any of the X-Men.

Jean didn’t know who he’d been before the Institute. Jean had never met the man who spent decades as a spy and an assassin, who had spent nearly forty years of his life lying and stealing and trapping and killing. She knew he was a good orator, but she didn’t know just how that skill had been honed over the decades by learning to read people and tell them what they needed to hear to respond the way he wanted. Jean trusted him because as a professor, he’d had no cause to lie to his students. As a parent, he had no cause to lie to the children. And as an enemy, he’d never been anything but forthcoming about his goals and what he would do to get them—and what he wouldn’t do.

He’d never lied to her, before, which set expectations. He wasn’t playing by the rules, right now—and miraculously, the Phoenix didn’t seem inclined to out him, for all her the Phoenix shows you the truth. The bird knew, then, that this was a necessary deceit. That he was in the right.

( Then why did he feel so guilty?)

“Don’t do what, Jean? I’m not being pedantic, you’re being vague. You mention her name and expect me to know exactly what the problem is? I’m not the mind reader, I don’t keep tabs on your friends, and I don’t have any idea what sentiment you’re talking about let alone what I could do to fix it!” he snapped in exasperation, throwing his hands up.

And then she took the bait, and the conversation mercifully shifted. Exactly as he’d expected. He knew Jean, knew how dearly she held to Charles’ teachings about the responsibilities of telepaths to not pry unnecessarily, and he knew it’d get the rise he needed to turn the conversation. “I know how telepathy works, Jean, which is why I’m blocking you out. You can’t do it yourself, so I give you a hand, and suddenly I’m the one at fault for trying to let you think through things in your head without my mind putting out interference. Well, my apologies.”

He could see the shift happen in her, could see the vein pulsing in her temple, the fingers twitching at her sides, the color rising in her cheeks. She was even angrier than she’d come in, and part of Erik wanted to wrap his arms around her the way he used to and give her something to direct it at—tell her to shatter the glasses behind the bar, because glass could be replaced more easily than walls. But he didn’t, because he needed her angry to give her the pushes she needed in the right direction. Jean hated being told what to do, as she’d just so clearly emphasized, which meant he had to do it more subtly than orders.

He’d always been so good at twisting words, twisting reality, to fit what he needed others to believe. She knew he was doing it, and it was working anyway, because it was one thing to know what someone was trying to do and another to be able to stop it.

Jean’s defense earned a laugh he didn’t bother to fight down. “You didn’t change his decisions, did you? That’s interesting, because I seem to remember him looking distinctly surprised when he started talking. He couldn’t move except to tell the hall what he thought, what you needed them to hear. He wasn’t going to say anything at all, but you made him do that. But no, no, changing his mind was a step too far,” Erik scoffed. “Better to make him a passenger in his own body, was it? More moral? You can’t have it both ways, Jean. How does this end, do you think? Voluntary submission? We’re forcing them, either way, because that’s how it was always going to have to go, but rather than make things easy by changing their minds, you and Charles would rather let people on both sides die in a good old fashioned war when we have the tools to win before it even starts.” And this…. this was a conversation he didn’t need to have with Jean, because he knew, he knew, it’d go no better than it ever had with Charles in their philosophical debates. But he needed her to doubt what she was saying, because she needed to doubt what she’d came in here about in the first place.

It was working, it seemed, because she knocked him backward a few steps with a flick of her hands, and Erik let her push until she got a grip on herself. Gave her a moment, to pull her mind back together just enough that this wouldn’t go like it had in Brooklyn, so she wouldn’t bring the Tower down around them in a burst of Phoenix-fueled anger.

( The Phoenix was being quiet, for him, now, for the first time in a while, and wasn’t that funny. )

“You know what I’m talking about,” he answered, meeting her eyes unabashedly. Stepping back to where he’d been a moment before, and then closer, closer. “You heard me think of him, in the moment before Raven snapped that man’s neck. Felt the déjà vu. And you want to know why. Want to know what could’ve possibly happened that would remind me of him in the midst of a murder.” He was standing in front of her know, and reached out for her hand, pressed it against his temple. “You want to see into my head? Fine. Look.”

It was a gamble. A dangerous one. But he’d kept secrets from Charles and from Jean alike, before. He was confident he could keep memories of Kara under lock and key while letting her in to see this.

Part of him didn’t want to share this with her. What had happened all those years ago was still one of the more painful parts of his past, certainly the most painful in the last fifty-some years, and he often did his best to avoid thinking about it.

But part of him was desperate for it. He didn’t know what Charles had told her, after Cuba, what any of the others had said to the young students, but they’d seemed angry, the first time he’d seen them afterwards on the other side of a battlefield. They knew enough to take sides. He could give his side to Jean, now, mistakes and all, talk about it with someone other than Raven for the first time in years, and one way or the other, she would understand.

JEAN: She couldn’t say that he was one of the few on Earth to prompt this response from her. It wouldn’t be fair, especially in recent times, to suggest that Erik was capable of getting under her skin and igniting the flame from her chest in ways that would normally remain tempered and flickering just under the surface, ash that still glowed red. Jean was always like this -- searching for something to scream at, something to rebel against. When she was sixteen years old, Scott only a few metres away from her in battle, Bobby being thrown by a giant robot and Warren desperately trying to save civilian onlookers, Scott had met her gaze across the battlefield and yelled, ‘Let go, Jean.’

Let go.

They were words she’d dreamed of hearing in every fight after that. It didn’t even take a beat, not a second of hesitation, before those walls she’d so carefully, painstakingly built over the past five years, over her entire goddamn life, crashed to the ground around her. The robot was thrown back. A building fell. Lampposts bent, cars went flying. Her friends were shielded from all of it by an invisible barrier she had tried, many times since, to replicate and and failed.

The world broke apart around her, and all Jean could think was this is how it feels to breathe.

Then the Phoenix came, and she never managed to catch a breath that didn’t taste like smoke in the back of her throat, that didn’t remind her what happened when she lost grip for even a second -- a lost night, darkened weekends, blood on her shirt, red dust on her knees. All of these unexplained mysteries, all of these lifetimes she’d lived with the Phoenix, and she couldn’t remember. All she could see were the flames. All she could feel was the power simmering in her veins.

So it wasn’t Erik, not entirely. But he didn’t help, either. He knew exactly what to say, exactly what expression would turn it from mildly irritating to infuriating. He knew what he was doing, and she knew what she was doing, but whether it worked didn’t rely on Jean’s introspection or her perceptiveness regarding the issue. Whether it worked entirely depended on Erik’s motivation for it working -- and he’d been extremely motivated in the past few months.

She pretended it wasn’t since the Raft.

“You’ve never needed a book full of details from me before to provide some degree of comfort,” Jean replied. “If you knew nothing about Kara, you would say that. You’re talking around it. You’re saying all these words and you’re flipping it back on me, and I know you’re something to do with it. I know it isn’t a choice that she would’ve made, because--”

Because it wasn’t a choice Jean would’ve made up in that space shuttle so many years ago, if she knew what came with it. If she knew death was no longer an option. If she knew worlds would fall to its talons. If she knew that she would never again, not really, be free to be her own person. No one chose to give parts of themselves up. No one chose to have someone else in their head.

Jean was not going to be to humanity as the Phoenix was to her.

“I’ve lived with this my entire life,” Jean retorted, voice picking up in volume. “I’ve been hearing the world’s thoughts since I was fifteen years old, and you really think your mind is going to interfere with mine? I know my own thoughts, thanks very much. I don’t need you to try and make things easier for me.” All you’ve done is make them harder, she thought after the fact, but she didn’t broadcast it -- couldn’t broadcast it. His mind was closed off, and it wasn’t fair. Erik wasn’t the reason things were going to hell. That was all on Jean.

And then he was speaking again, reminding her of that fact, and Jean wanted to put him through the glass window Loki had thrown Iron Man from during the Incident. (They’d been watching it, from the mansion -- had been protecting their own, fighting the good fight within their own walls. They’d always been battling against extinction. This was nothing new.)

“You brought me,” Jean snapped back. “I’m a telepath. You know what I do. There’s no way for me … you talk about using my gifts. You talk about them as if they’re something to be proud of, and then you judge me for my implementation. There is no way to use telepathy that doesn’t fuck people up, Erik. There’s no way I can be in someone’s head and not leave a trace there, not make them … not change them in some way!”

Emma might’ve been capable of that. She was a surgeon’s scalpel while Jean was a battering ram. It had always been that way. She wondered if that meant Erik respected her more. She wondered if Scott looked at Jean, sometimes, and wondered why she wasn’t capable of that much discretion, why she tore things apart in her wake.

This wasn’t about Jean. This was about Kara. She was focusing on Kara. She was focusing--

On Erik. On the lump in her throat that was forming at the memory that was far further forward in her mind than she would’ve admitted to, the memory she’d been turning over ever since the U.N. It mingled with the blood that had pooled on the plush carpet, meaning that all Jean could think was death and secrets and applying both to a man she trusted, a man she needed to trust if this was to go to plan, if this wasn’t just one giant mistake …

“Is that supposed to be a dare?” Jean asked, but there wasn’t nearly the level of bitterness in her voice that there perhaps should’ve been. She looked at Erik for a long moment, at his familiar, tired face, at the weight he’d been carrying on his shoulders for the past few weeks, at hands that crafted a music box for her wedding, at the fact that he was standing here, in front of her, when John and Elaine and Charles and her siblings were not.

She sucked in a breath, stepped forward, and touched her fingertips to his temple.

“Show me,” she whispered.

ERIK: The distraction worked. She argued, she pushed back, but in the end it worked, and she was closing her eyes and pressing her fingers to his temple and letting him turn the subject matter to something else. Something just marginally more comfortable.

He couldn’t just go to what she’d seen in the UN. She needed context, needed some sort of background on how they’d gotten to that point in the first place, which meant… he needed to start at the Institute.

Charles stares at the chessboard, fingers tapping lightly against his cheek in a gesture that’s far more endearing than it has right to be as he attempts to make sense of Erik’s last play. It’d been a circuitous move, the midpoint of a maneuver for checkmate that Erik had started executing three moves before and Charles seemed not to have caught onto, yet. He would, no doubt, the next turn, but by then it’d be too late to mount much of a defense. Erik tipped the martini glass to his lips, raising a brow as Charles made his move and spoke for the first time in several minutes—not that he’d minded. Silences were companionable, between the two of them.

“Shaw’s declared war on mankind. On all of us. He has to be stopped.”

Ah. So that’d been where his mind was. On tomorrow. Charles sounded like he was trying to convince himself, because Erik knew already. But Erik had been hunting Nazis—hunting Shaw—for decades. He was used to operations like this. Charles was a young academic, used to the safety and security of ivory towers. He’d been happy to push the kids to hone their powers, but tomorrow they’d be going to fight someone dangerous. Someone deadly, someone who’d made no bones about killing one of their own in the middle of a CIA building. The man and their students were about to have their first taste of war, and nerves were to be expected. But he needed to correct one word—one little word that made a world of difference.

“I’m not going to stop Shaw. I’m going to kill him.” Charles blinked, brow creasing, and Erik leaned forward to capture the man’s queen without hesitation. “Do you have it in you to allow that?” he asked as he leaned back in his seat, watching Charles across the board. The telepath huffed out something that sounded nothing like a laugh, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he avoided Erik’s gaze. “You’ve known all along why I was here, Charles.” He’d never made an effort to hide it, not once. He’d let himself be sidetracked somewhat by the school, but the mountain of papers in the safe under his desk were ample testament to the fact that he hadn’t let his mission about Shaw go. He couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

Had Charles thought that had changed?

He’d known from the beginning that that was, perhaps, part of the man’s goals. Charles had gotten into his head, that night out on the water. He had seen Erik’s past written out as plainly as if it were emblazoned in the stars, because those memories had been the only thoughts in his head as he nearly drowned trying to drag Shaw and his submarine back from the depths. He’d felt the fear and the anger and the pain, felt the jagged shapes of the memories Emma had dragged out of his mind of Shaw’s leering face over him on an operation table. He knew. And that night, and every night since, he’d tried to give Erik calm. He’d forced it into his mind, that night, to stop him from inhaling lungfuls of seawater, and had been carefully managing things since. And Erik had felt more at peace than he had in a long time before. The days were filled with caring for children, teaching them, training them, the nights filled with chess games and drinks and nights curled up in bed with a man who chased off nightmares—quite literally, if need be.

But he hadn’t forgotten the mission. Charles knew that, had to know that. He’d walked in on Erik’s attempts to track the man’s movements by newspaper clippings and hear-say. He knew that Erik’s rare ‘vacations’ on weekends weren’t to go lay on a beach but to track down sources. All this training for the strike team of some of their more gifted students had been formulated to stop Shaw based on the information they gathered from those missions and the CIA’s attempts to keep tabs on him.

He knew the hunt was still on. Was he really betrayed by the notion that Erik wasn’t content enough not to finish it properly?

Evidently so, judging by the rest of the exchange. Charles was still so insistent that they could shift the narrative about mutants, that saving the world from a madman intent on wiping humanity off the face of the planet would be enough to make humans less hateful. Erik knew better. He knew they wouldn’t focus on the saving. They would focus on the mutant who’d been mad enough to attempt triggering nuclear armageddon in the first place. Mutants would never, never, be able to do enough good to make humans like them. ( Erik had saved their lives, in the factory, and they’d repaid him by burning his house, his family, his life to the ground. )

But Charles—optimistic, naïve Charles, didn’t want to hear it. Even now. Didn’t want to admit that his own research supported Erik in asserting that humans would never do anything but fight them, looked indignant that Erik would even bring up his thesis to defend the simple truth and yet could not articulate a rebuttal. Not on that front, at least.

“Listen to me very carefully, my friend,” Charles said lowly, urgently, across the board as his eyes locked onto Erik’s. “Killing Shaw will not bring you peace.”

“Peace was never an option.” Not for him. Not for mutants. Not for anyone in this mess of a world. But if he couldn’t have peace, he could have vengeance, and maybe that would be similar enough to chase the ghost of his mother out of his nightmares.

He couldn’t have peace. But maybe he could give it to her.

Charles had been angry, after that. Had gone off to bed when Erik had rounded up his king with a brief ‘goodnight.’ He didn’t need to be a telepath to know he wasn’t welcome to follow.

Jean needed to know that he’d made no lies about intent, that he’d never obfuscated what he intended to do that day in Cuba. Perhaps he hadn’t been forthcoming on the how, but he’d told Charles the night before that Erik fully intended to make him an accessory to murder.

<<I warned him.>>

The words sound guilty, anyway, as Erik shifts his mind in the direction of Cuba.

JEAN: For a moment, Jean wasn’t entirely sure whether it was two years before and she was back to missing entire nights, waking up in an alleyway with blood smeared on her shirt with no idea of how it got there, no idea of how to get it out, no idea of who to turn to because how did you explain what was happening without sounding completely insane? The room around her in this memory was familiar, achingly so, with just enough minor differences that she could pinpoint within a matter of moments exactly what had changed since the last time she was there — books with crisp white pages and intact spines, leather that wasn’t worn from the sunlight, curtains a slightly lighter shade of cream. Everything was tinged with a newness she never learned to associate with the mansion, which was always so steeped in history right from the first day she walked in to the last day she walked out.

She would return one day, no doubt, and one day soon. They’d all return, and they’d have done something important, something grand something that allowed mutant history to begin being written in stone instead of passed down via oral tradition and altered because it was stripped from them every step of the way. She would return one day, and it still wouldn’t look how it did in this memory, because memories were in the past. No matter how they tried, they could never go back.

Not even if the Phoenix promised to make her think she had.

Shaw. Jean, ever curious, knew enough to recognise the name. One of the first, if not the first, mission of the X-Men — before her time, of course. She was one of the original members, but there were leaders before she arrived, people who fought the fight decades before she fell to her knees in the middle of the road. There was a shining office, and there was a feeling of warmth, and there was the memory of something foreign bubbling warm in Erik’s chest … no, not foreign. Familiar, just unexpected. Fears assuaged, stories listened to, nightmares swept away.

(She did the same for Scott. The second the thought crossed her mind, she knew it was a dangerous one. Bringing Scott into anything was a surefire way to have Jean crumbling like a house of cards, her weakness and her strength rolled into one. But she couldn’t stop it any more than she could stop herself from reaching for Erik when he offered. She couldn’t hold back the memories that came to her mind, then, of nights spent with her fingers threaded through Scott’s hair, his head in her lap, doing everything that it took to keep the demons at bay so he could sleep for even a few hours.

He never wanted her to do it every night, even if she begged him. He never wanted to burden her, never wanted to let himself forget what had happened. It sharpened him, turned him into the man — the boy — she’d met on that park bench. She had the distinct impression Erik followed a similar school of thinking. They always seemed to.)

I warned him.

A few words, a glance in her direction, a familiar thought that brought her right back to the Raft, because she knew how it felt to kill people, how to rip them apart, how to want to, desperately …

<< Sometimes warnings aren’t enough. >>

It wasn’t broadcast with any kind of confidence, though. This, what he was showing her, wasn’t a fraction of a second before an action in battle. It wasn’t a decision that was made on the basis of discriminatory thoughts yelled across a room. This was a conversation before a fight — not so much a warning as drawing the line in the sand, stating their position. He couldn’t be any clearer.

Jean swallowed thickly, looking at Erik with renewed perspective. << Shaw deserved to die. >> It wasn’t a question. Even without the rest of the memory, even at this stage, she knew enough to read through his subconscious. << You told him. What happened next? >>

ERIK: It never ceased to be an odd sensation, the feeling of someone else in your mind—watching your memories, letting their own flicker in. Brief moments, because Jean was skilled but not as controlled as Charles had been: a flash of Scott with his head in her lap, a flicker of nightmares being tweaked so her now-husband could sleep. Familiar in content, if not in perspective. Erik didn’t mention the momentary intrusions, only responded to the thoughts she deliberately sent his way.

Not enough. Perhaps not. But he didn’t know how to give anything else. And then she asked what happened next, and Erik grimaced. He didn’t want Jean to see him like he’d been, that day. But he’d started this trip down memory lane knowing it was necessary. That didn’t make his pride any easier to swallow. Even so, the memory shifted solidified into the engine room of the submarine.

“I’m sorry about what happened in the camps,” Shaw tells him, and Erik’s thoughts stutter briefly to a halt. It’s a lie. He knows it’s a lie. Shaw was a psychopath, a sadist, an unapologetically cruel man. Every single word this man has ever uttered to him was meant to hurt, including this. And yet. “Truly, I am,” the man continues, and Erik hasn’t moved, hasn’t breathed in those intervening seconds that feel like an eternity as he tries to make sense of why the man would ever say those words to him.

It’s obvious, a moment later, as the hesitation makes it pathetically easy for Shaw to step forward and tap him between the eyes, sending Erik flying into the mirrored walls behind him, and suddenly he’s back on overdrive. Pain lances through his ribs, through his head, and he feels the panic that he’d managed to shove aside when he’d heard the doors close behind him surge back with a new vengeance. He’s on the ground, alone with a man who delighted in making him hurt and had the force of a nuclear reactor behind him to do so, and he’s going to get tossed around like a ragdoll and get a hand shoved through his chest, he’d seen it happen before...

Charles’ voice is back in his head. “Erik! Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it, it’s starting to work.” That puts the brakes on the spiral of panic, at least temporarily. Was it the glass, keeping Charles out? One way to find out, unfortunately. Erik starts to get to his feet, but he’s slow. Purposefully. And Shaw’s talking again.

“But everything I did, I did for you. To unlock your power. To make you embrace it.” Another tap, this one under the chin, and Erik sails across the room to crash into the opposite wall and feels a rib crack as the glass tumbles down around him. Charles’ voice in his mind informs him that it’s working, but he can’t get purchase on Shaw’s mind, not yet, and no. Not the glass. Can’t be. There’s something else blocking Charles, something—

The helmet. The man doesn’t need armor, has never needed protection from physical attacks a day in his life. A bomb could go off over his head and he’d swallow the energy no worse for wear. Had Emma sensed the presence of another telepath, back on the boat? Protection from telepathy was the only thing that made sense, and maybe that was why the thing looked like metal but didn’t respond at all to Erik’s senses.

“You’ve come a long way from bending gates. I’m so proud of you,” Shaw says with a smirk, and takes a step toward Erik, and no. No, no, no. Erik pulls whatever metal he can get a hold of from the walls and ceiling around them, throws it between him and Shaw to keep the man away. It does nothing except make the man’s eyes spark with amusement as he keeps talking, keeps walking without so much as pausing. “And you’re just starting to scratch the surface. Think of how much further we could go. Together.” Erik’s pushing the beam between him and Shaw as far as it will go, but it bends around Shaw like water parting, despite all his effort, and Erik realizes with a shudder a moment later that he’s pinned.

Oh, g-d.

One of the man’s hands stays pressed against the steel, keeping Erik stuck, as the other comes up to rest against the side of Erik’s head like a cage, the man’s face inches from his own. It’s like being chained to an operating table all over again. Worse, because for all his age, all his improvements, Shaw is still playing with him as easily as he had when Erik was a child. Humiliation burns in the back of his throat, terror filling his veins and making him clench his fists to hide their trembling. One twitch of the man’s fingers could collapse his skull, his ribcage, could crush him like little more than a bug on a windshield. Instinct kicks in, and Erik keeps his gaze on the ground, because staring the man in the eyes had only ever made things worse all those years ago.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Erik. I never did. I want to help you,” Shaw says gently, and Erik would laugh if he felt like he had the air in his lungs to do so. “This is our time. Our age. We are the future of the human race. You and me, son.” Erik’s stomach turns at the word, bile rising in his throat, and he sucks in a breath that’s not nearly enough to keep him from feeling like he’s drowning all over again. “This world could be ours.”

Ours.

No. Not his and Shaw’s. There are others he wants to share this world with, to claim it for, people outside waiting for him. The doctor who’s stayed a step ahead of him for decades has made a miscalculation, thinks he’s broken Erik enough that he’d come in here alone to die. Maybe he would have, not so long ago.

But not today. Erik swallows, and lets his powers slowly reach out into the room around him again.

“Everything you did made me stronger,” Erik rasps out. “Made me the weapon I am today. It’s the truth. I’ve known it all along.” Distractions, but not lies, and Erik prays that Charles isn’t listening to the ring of truth in that moment as he finally turns to look Shaw in the eyes, sees the man’s grin at the concession. He thinks of that photo on the wall in the bar in Argentina, Shaw’s grin as he clasps his arms around the two Nazis Erik had left in a heap that day. They’d asked what he was, and Erik had responded that he was Frankenstein’s monster. “You are my creator,” he says, and steel piping lashes out to pluck the helmet from Shaw’s head.

Shaw turns, but Charles is faster, and the man freezes mid-reach, the helmet hovering just away from his fingertips. Erik lets the beam that had been pinning him drop to the floor and steps over it to circle around to the front of the man. His blood is roaring in his ears as he looks between the helmet and Shaw, in the silence.

The man is an unparalleled threat. Unapologetic of the damage he’s done, eager to do more. There was no prison that would keep him restrained, Erik was confident. Not with his connections, not with his powers. Moira had promised that there was a cell fitted for him, and Charles had seemed to take her at her word, but Erik didn’t trust the CIA. They’d invited Nazis into the United States for Operation Paperclip, had let them hide amongst the ranks of the government to pursue the ends of the Americans despite the atrocities that sat on their hands. Shaw had connections across the globe that the CIA was no doubt eager to exploit. They’d cut a deal. Shaw would go free.

No.

“I’m sorry Charles,” he says, and lets the helmet drop into his hands, and hears the immediate protests start up in his mind. Pleading. “But I don’t trust you.” Not for this. Not after last night. Erik settles the helmet on his head, and Charles voice and presence disappears.

He has to finish this. By any means necessary. Erik steps forward, presses his head against the Shaw’s outstretched hands, and stares him in the eyes. “If you’re in there, I’d like you to know that I agree with every word you’ve said. We are the future. But,” he says, after a moment, turning on his heel, putting some distance between them. “Unfortunately, you killed my mother.”

The Reichsmark the man had pressed into his palm all those decades ago is burning in his pocket, and Erik’s hand wraps around it again as he turns back to face him, echoing the words the man had uttered to introduce the challenge that Erik had failed. That had killed his mother. “This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to count to three. And I’m going to move the coin.”

He counts. The coin rolls on towards Shaw’s head, through the air, and Erik knows that Charles is the only thing keeping the man still. That if Charles lets go of his mind, even for a moment, Shaw’s powers will kick in, stop the coin. Shaw will kill him, if Charles lets go, and there’s no two ways about it—the telepath won’t have the chance to seize control of someone like Shaw again. Charles is inside the man’s head, and will have to remain there as the coin goes through the man’s skull.

Erik doesn’t stop. He had come here to kill Shaw. He had known the only way to do so would be if the man was under Charles’ control. Getting him to do this was a necessary evil. There's not a bone in his body that wants to hurt the telepath, but he knows this is the only way things can go. This only way he can get a moment of revenge for his father, for his mother, for Ruthie, for everyone who’d suffered in the camps. For himself.

He doesn’t stop until the coin comes out the back side of Sebastian Shaw’s skull and drops to the ground.

More than he has in his entire life, Erik feels like he can breathe, even with the guilt fizzling low in his stomach.

Wars are never won without sacrifice.

There's no defense he can offer Jean but this, no way he can expound upon his reasoning beyond what she's now seen, heard, and felt for herself. No excuses. He doesn't try.

JEAN: Everyone felt different. Everyone felt unique, in their own ways. It was one of the phenomena the Phoenix was so fascinated by, when it first emerged in her mind. It had marvelled, in fact, at the idea that humanity could be seen to be so separate, that each soul was something intrinsically special, worth defending, worth preserving. Originally, the flames were willing to engulf any and all because life (the energy, the force that it considered to be life, at least) was recyclable. Everything lived, everything died. It was a constant circle, and nothing mattered so much as long as it didn’t deviate from the lines that had been carefully constructed at the beginning of all time.

Jean hoped she’d changed that. She hoped that, if nothing else, she showed why she fought so desperately to protect every single life -- every single life until the Raft, until Central Park, until the U.N. Every single life until it came back down to what the Phoenix had always prophesied -- that life, ultimately, came down to numbers and numbers alone. The greatest benefit for the majority outweighed the suffering of the few. In numerical terms, Scott dying in that park was justifiable. Jean knew that it wasn’t, just as she knew she would never be able to recompense the loss of those men in the prison, regardless of what they had done, regardless of the war she was waging or message she was sending.

Death was never to be celebrated. Death was, always, to be revered, to be respected, in Jean’s case to be feared. There was a reason why, even when Erik opened his mind completely to her when she was scarcely a teenager, she refused to look any deeper than the surface. He always knew how to project memories forward that he knew she needed, that would help her steady herself. He knew how to hide other things away, because Jean, for all of her love of him, knew she couldn’t swallow what he had been through.

She knew, even then, she would burn the world down to get the memories of all that death purged from her own brain. Jean knew her limits, once. She wasn’t so sure anymore.

She wasn’t so sure as she listened to the curved words turned razor sharp as they passed Shaw’s lips, so similar to Mr. Sinister’s in another set of memories, curling and wrapping themselves around her. She wasn’t so sure as the scene screeched to a halt, as she realised that Erik wasn’t powerless, that he never would be again, that this was the moment where childhood officially ended, despite all that he’d suffered before the fact. She wasn’t so sure as she had a flash of a bullet ripping through flesh, and how that felt, how it sung to him even as it dropped his mother to the ground, how it became a part of him like this coin, this coin the same shape as the world, everything condensed down into something he could push into the palm of his hand so hard it left a faint, red circle to remind him.

That coin was covered in blood. That coin was called back to him -- she wondered, briefly, where it was now. Shaw was on the ground, and Charles had felt that, all of that, and Jean knew how it felt to be in the head of someone who died. She knew because that was her first experience of the thing Erik called a ‘gift.’ She knew because, as a child, she’d fallen to her knees beside Annie and known the dread that usually only came to adults who looked at the faces of their parents and knew, inevitably, what was to come.

She knew because she’d been replaying that moment in her head every single goddamn night since she was eleven years old. She knew because that moment, that memory, was all she needed to let the Phoenix get its talons into her back, because the devil … it was worth making a deal with whatever she needed to, to give up anything it asked for, as long as she didn’t need to taste that grief again.

The room fell into silence, Erik’s mind once again fading as her finger dropped from his temple, as her arms went around her own torso and gripped tightly. There was a lump so thick in her throat Jean didn’t think she could speak, but she didn’t want to broadcast, either, didn’t want any of this, not to hear other people’s thoughts or to get back in Erik’s head or to see all of that, again, or hear his reasoning, or justifications, or the war rhetoric she was sick of, over and over again …

“You gave him an Annie,” she said, finally, low but loud enough Erik would hear it (he always heard her). “You … you made him see Annie. You made him … do you have any idea what that feels like?” Her voice was higher, now, thinner -- thready and almost hysterical despite her best intentions otherwise. “To be in someone’s head, to … to have yourself ripped out, to see the last minutes and feel yourself bleeding, to know … God, Erik, what did you--”

ERIK: Jean took her fingers from his temple, and he knew what was coming, then. Had gambled on this getting under her skin enough to make her forget her anger about Kara—that was the whole point of this, after all, of dredging up those memories he usually kept back by way of drink or cigarettes or working himself into a state of enough exhaustion that he could have one of those blessed mostly-dreamless nights that were so rare anymore. Evidently, showing her had gotten the rise he bet on.

( What did it cost? )

Erik didn’t reach for her, didn’t so much as move as he watched her struggle to find the words to say what she needed to. When she spoke, though, the words weren’t at all what he’d anticipated. You gave him an Annie. He didn’t know who Annie was ( which felt like an oversight, in this context, and how close were they really if he didn’t know? ), but he could put the pieces together.

Somewhere, somehow, sometime along the line before the UN, Jean had been in someone’s head while they died. Not just in the vicinity of a death, but there in their head watching them die. She knew what it felt like to feel someone else die, in addition to all the times she herself had done the same, and it wasn’t fair. A child shouldn’t have to know that.

But children did know that. Lots of children, long before Jean, knew what it felt like to die.

Not him. Never him.

“No,” he answered, just as quietly as her first words, forcing her to cut herself off to hear. “No, I don’t know what it feels like to die, Jean. Despite everyone around me doing so, I never got the privilege.” That’s not what he should say, makes this worse instead of better and he knows it, but the words tumble out anyway.

It’s wrong to say to her, as his daughter, as someone who’s died three times and had apparently lived more than one death vicariously. It’s wrong to think, and he knows it, knows that it’s not a privilege to die and that anyone who’s died around him would much rather have continued to live, thank you. It’s wrong on so many counts, so many ways that are enumerated so many places, and yet.

And yet.

He doesn’t look at her, can’t, when he speaks. “Scott died, and you know how it felt to be alive when he wasn’t. Lasted all of a few weeks before you brought him back, and I’m happy you did Jeannie, I am. You got to bring him back. I—imagine,” he says, and his voice has gone suddenly hoarse. “Parents. Sister. Friends. In-laws. Wife. Lovers. Sons. Daughters. Every single time, it feels like that, and I can’t do what you did. I don’t get to bring them back, I don’t get a do-over. I get that feeling you had laid on top of itself over and over and over and over again and know that so many of them were my fault but I don’t get to change it, I just get the ghosts. Shaw never threatened me with the gas chambers in the camps, you know. I was useful. The only time I tried to escape before the riots, he dragged in the boy from the bunk beneath mine and made me watch him break every single bone and then dig the grave. I didn’t get to die with my first family, I didn’t get to die with my second one, I didn’t—I’m ninety years old, Jeannie, and still.” Still alive. Still useful. And he doesn’t begrudge Jean, doesn’t begrudge anyone for that fact but himself and his own insistence that no one else have to deal with the scale of loss he had.

“I am sorry that you know what it feels like to die, sorry that he knows it too, but I did what I had to do to live.” He hadn’t planned what he would do after killing Shaw, had never spared it a thought until Charles and the school and Jean. And then he’d lost that, too. “I should’ve died so many times, I should’ve died on the beach five minutes after Shaw when Moira starting shooting, but I didn’t and it’s always other people who pay for it because I can't save people.” No matter how hard he tried.

JEAN: She remembered sitting in a college lecture hall learning about child development, hearing the professor talk about these linchpins, cornerstones of existence that everyone came back to. ‘Every child has these, in different ways,’ she’d said. ‘If they miss out on them, if these core foundations start to crumble, that’s when things get difficult. It’s the same in adult life, too. So many things are. What happens to us as children, that digs deep down, it settles within us.’

At the time, Jean hadn’t been able to understand it, at least not entirely. At that point, she still had cornerstones. She had her parents back in Annandale-on-Hudson, had her sister on the other end of the phone, had Scott and the X-Men waiting at the mansion. She’d lost people, lost Annie and Erik most significantly, but she still knew who she was. She knew where she lived, knew she could count on the breath in her lungs.

It was easy to pretend the space mission never happened. It was easy to assuage Scott’s fears with a dismissive wave of the hand and a bright smile, to tell him that everything was fine and trust that he would believe her. It was easy because, for the most part, no one looked any deeper. Jean Grey was perfect. Jean Grey had it all together. Jean Grey was the best of them, the strongest, the most powerful, the one who would change the world …

The one who couldn’t falter. The one who couldn’t die, until she could.

She held patients’ hands as they passed. She looked into families’ eyes and told them that their loved ones’ time on Earth was limited, their days numbered. She was screamed at and swung for and cursed at. She took all of their rage and anger and frustration and pain, and she felt it more than any of the others, felt it more than any empathetic nurse or sympathetic doctor could manage, because she could hear every thought in their head, could see every memory.

Sometimes, death could be peaceful. Sometimes, it could be bittersweet, come at the end of a life well lived. Jean didn’t have much experience with that, outside of her career. All she knew was young mutants, underground. All she knew was a rapidly growing graveyard at the back of the Institute, how trees had to be ripped from their roots to make room for children.

All she knew was how it felt to look down and see blood seeping through her own uniform, to know, somewhat belatedly, that something vital had been hit, that it was over, that this was her numbered day. The end, and then the end again, and the end again …

“How dare you say that to me.” Her voice, scarcely more than a whisper, and her hands trembling by her side. “And how dare you talk about him.” They’d had this argument before, the last time glass shattered and flames raged around her and Erik’s arms wrapped around her shoulders and held onto her. That wouldn’t happen this time. She could feel something shifting, something almost maturing between them.

He knew she wasn’t a child anymore. It wasn’t a revelation, but … they’d been apart for so long, Jean almost forgot how much time they lost, how quickly their relationship had to change.

“Is that what you think I did with Scott? With myself?” Jean asked. “A do-over? You really think I just … that I just wave my hand, and we’re back, and I didn’t need to sacrifice anything to do it?” Jean would make the same decision ten, fifteen, a hundred times if it meant Scott was standing next to her, that she could marry him, that she could feel what it was like to be his wife — but she also knew she’d made a bargain. An exchange, a promise, a deal with the devil. “I’m playing with a god, Erik. The Phoenix … it does what it wants. It made me lose weeks, months of my life. I don’t know what I did. I just know I woke up and there was …”

Blood. So much blood, smeared over her hands and in her hair. Dust on her knees and the soles of her feet, different colors than anything she’d seen before. Her fingers and lips were blue, most mornings, like she’d been gasping for air, or blasted with wind for hours on end.

The memories came with Erik’s words, subconsciously or not, bleeding through and melding around and Jean felt her heart pound harder in her chest. Suddenly, his voice wasn’t strong anymore. He wasn’t arguing a point. She could scarcely remember why she had came here in the first place — she didn’t want to remember.

Because someone she cared about was hurting. Someone she loved was in pain, and she might not be able to erase her mistakes, but if there was one thing people associated with the myth of Jean Grey that she didn’t loath having to live up to, it was that she was kind. Compassionate. Comforting.

“Erik,” she whispered, taking a step towards him, hand reaching to touch against his cheek this time. “No matter what we do, people are always going to die. It’s … it’s a fact.” She swallowed thickly, eyes dropping down. “We’re born, we live, we die. It’s that middle part, that’s what matters the most. The time we spend giving, laughing, alive, sharing, learning… that’s what makes life worth living in the first place. And what you’ve given me, what you’re giving us, our people — that’ll make up for all of it. I promise you.”

ERIK: She responds about as well as he’d expected, which was not well at all. She isn’t threatening to bring the building down on them for mentioning Scott, which is, at the least, an improvement from last time. He’d probably deserve her throwing a chair at him for those words.

Because Jean wasn’t the child he’d left behind at the Institute all those years ago. That Jean had been young and brilliant and still bright-eyed with what childish innocence mutants were ever allowed to have. She was safe and protected at the school from the unrest outside their walls. The Jean Grey before him now was a warrior, was someone who had fought and died on the battlefield alongside her kin time and time again now and still came back to it each time she resurrected to help protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. This Jean Grey wasn’t just the most powerful telekinetic Charles had ever seen, but had served as the vessel for the force of life itself for decades, now, and not fallen to pieces. Jean was an X-Man who risked her life fighting for mutants and then turned around and tried to save lives in the hospital. She was not a stranger to death. She had borne the pain of countless people, patients and friends and family alike, and not broken.

“I know,” he murmured, in response to her own quiet outrage and the trembling of her hands at her sides. It wasn’t fair to say that to her, of all people. But Jean knew death was a fact but everything around it was subjective, knew all too well the ways people could respond to it, and Erik had never been the sort to blunt what he felt to be true for the sake of someone else. Jean’s feelings about the matter could be a world different from his and still, both could be right. Perhaps not fair. But correct in their own ways. Maybe it was unfair to burden her with thoughts about it from him, here and now, but this conversation hadn’t started out fair, either, had it?

( Erik hadn’t been good for so many people in his life, maybe this was no different. )

“I’m not saying it was easy, Jean. But you still got the chance. Do you know what I would give for that?” Of course she did. They were so similar, in the best and worst ways, and they both knew it went without saying that either of them would sign away just about anything if it meant keeping the ones they loved safe. Even now, they were making that bargain: laying siege to millions of people in order to secure a safe place for their people, their family, to rest.

No cost too high.

He could mention that he knew more than a bit about the Phoenix himself, now, too. That a shard of it had buried itself in him, that he knew it wasn’t all sunshine and roses. That he was increasingly unsure what was him and what was it ( and how far apart they’d been in the first place ). That where she had holes in her memory, he had memories he avoided looking at too closely, now, because if he dwelled too long they felt off and set his mind off on paranoid tangents. That he was sleeping only a few nights a week. That he was increasingly unsure who and what he could trust, that he felt like he was constantly on more of a hair-trigger than he’d been in a long time.

But he didn’t say any of that, tried to not even think it too loudly because he knew Jean already blamed herself for what had happened on the Raft. He didn’t blame her for this. The Phoenix, for all its… side effects, had proven useful. Shown him to his daughter, helped him realize powers he’d not pieced together, provided a boost to his reach as the stakes got higher and higher.

Everything is fine.

And it was. Because in the next moments, Jean’s anger at him seemed to dissipate. ( On her own? ) She stepped forward and cupped her hand to his cheek, and Erik closed his eyes and wrapped a hand around her wrist—not to pull her away, not to keep her close, just to be grounded. ( It was a coincidence that filled his chest with warmth, the knowledge that Jean and Wanda both made the very same motion as comfort. Both of his red-headed girls. )

Jean always knew what to say. She always had. What you’ve given me, what you’re giving us, our people—that’ll make up for all of it. Yes. It had to. Everything he’d done, everything he lived through, everything he was doing now. even the very thing she’d come in here to confront him about were all done for the sake of the future. For the greater good. Sacrifices had to be made, unfortunate and tragic and painful as they were, but here and now, they were finally in the endgame. They were almost free. Just a little bit more time, a little bit more struggle, and then he’d be able to give her, give all of them, the world they deserved.

Erik brought his hand up to cup her cheek in turn, and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head, letting out a slow breath. “Danke, schatzen.” She’d come to pick the fight he’d wanted to avoid, and instead ended up lifting a weight from his chest on that very matter. “You always know what to say. My brilliant Jean,” he murmured, pulling away and offering her a smile that was back to its usual warmth.

JEAN: Jean could handle a lot. She could handle being killed in the middle of a battle, knowing from the look on Scott’s face that there was a bloodstain so large on her uniform that she wouldn’t be coming back from it this time. She could handle fighting since she was a teeanger in a war that her people were always destined to lose, because that’s how history worked. She could handle facing off against a man who, for all intents and purposes, was the closest to a father she’d ever had, and definitely considered family long before an enemy. She could handle being part of the X-Men and going to medical school, could hide at work, could come out at work, could watch friends and family fall.

What she couldn’t handle, what she couldn’t even begin to cope with, was the idea that her entire life was falling down around her and she was entirely to blame. If Jean indulged in that level of thinking, she could go down the rabbithole quite quickly.

If she hadn’t thrown that frisbee. If she’d just been able to hold herself together, stop herself from tearing down the school around her. If she didn’t need therapy, or counsellors, or over-medicated to try and keep her calm before her parents were just desperate enough to consider calling Professor X. If she didn’t go on that space mission. If she’d trained a little harder before it. If she hadn’t used Scott’s feelings for her to convince him she was ready. If she hadn’t called for the Phoenix, had just dodged that bullet, had controlled the fire a little better.

If she’d protected Scott. If she’d reached for Erik when he went to leave. If she reached for him now.

Life wasn’t about living in the past. Life wasn’t about memories, no matter how easily they came to her when they were like this, Erik’s smell and warmth and presence so familiar to her now, even if there had been a decade or more in between. Jean knew people. She knew them at their best, at their worst, in between. She told herself that was her superpower, her responsibility beyond all others to ensure that she preserved that special uniqueness all humans had -- the uniqueness that the Phoenix had doubted, for a long time.

She was overstating herself. Her power wasn’t knowing. That would mean she could accurately plan more than two steps ahead without setting things on fire in her wake. No, Jean’s power wasn’t reading minds, or levitating furniture, or even ripping atoms apart.

It was making things, however briefly, just a little bit better. A bandage around a wound. Painkillers, a gentle touch on the arm, the comfort of knowing someone was finally listening. A hug, her fingers running through their hair, poorly baked cookies that were misshapen but tasted half decent, enough to fill your stomach. Warm blankets and warmer sofas.

Erik in her arms.

Because this -- this was where she felt like Jean Grey. This was where she knew who she was. When Jean was mean, she could rip the very stars from the sky. When Jean was kind…

Oh, when Jean was kind she could put them back up there and make sure they shone brighter than before.

“Not always,” she muttered, but there was a small smile on her face, a lesser weight on her shoulders despite it moving to sit solidly in the square of her chest. She pushed her head into his shoulder, arms around his waist, and stood there for a long moment, swaying as she did.

Then he pulled away, and Jean had the distinct impression she had lost.

That was okay, she figured. She reached out to push hair off his forehead, to touch once more against his cheek before she let her hand fall. She could afford to lose sometimes.

“Love you,” she said, holding up a pinkie finger for him to link with his own. “Always.”

#c: jean grey #f: discord #d: the other side #tw: manipulative behavior #tw: gaslighting #tw: murder #tw: ptsd #tw: anxiety #tw: injury #tw: torture #tw: holocaust mention #tw: violence #tw: suicidal ideation

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