Charles Xavier - Blog Posts

Not me crying because of character ai’s Charles Xavier telling me that I wasn’t alone

Magneto and his badass daughters

...and Peter

Okay but I’m gonna be real here Charles having a family reunion would be so chaotic cause you would have Juggernaut, Casandra, Raven, and P. Xavier all in the same room with him. You can literally smell the drama that would unfold. Or it could totally be super chill. Idk, I might draw this later, but I honestly think it would be super fun to think more about.

l made that one scene gayer somehow

Some fur/coat ideas I had for Professor X. I haven’t managed to settle on a design idea for him yet.

给cp EC街道的图

doing a couple of these cause im bored :) idk if anyones gonna see this but pls provide a trope that you really really love OR hate with your whole heart. i'll try reply to all but preferable cherik jily scorbus and zukka :)

Completely random headcanons that make no sense and are completely out of character for (movie) X-Men characters :

(If it's just the character then it's probably from the old timeline, aka the first movie, X2, The Last Stand, all that jazz.)

First Class Proffesor X - Once got so drunk that he made out with his reflection, yes he used the mutant pick up line on himself, he couldn't read anyone's mind for a week because all anyone could think about was that

First Class/During Days Of Future Past Magneto - Decked the shit out of a human kid once because they talked some shit and he doesn't feel bad about it to this day

Post Days Of Future Past Iceman - He naturally gets compared to Elsa after the movie comes out, it haunts him because one of the kids convinced him to dress up as her for halloween.

X2 Rogue - Because of her mutation and what happened in the first movie, she gets really bad anxiety about not wearing gloves, she can't even stay in the same room as someone with them off

Storm - Sometimes her hair gets all static when she's thinking about things and if you touch her when she's mad you'll get a shock, the kids like to rub balloons on her hair and stick them to walls when it happens.

Wolverine - Prefers crunchy food, whenever he eats anything soft he cringes and instinctively spits it out, may or may not have spat in someone's face, scott but that was probably on purpose, once or twice or three times.

First Class Mystique - Sometimes she turns into people she doesn't like and mockingly impersonates them in the mirror, she also uses it to practice her acting but overall it's just to make them look dumb

X2 Pyro - He has a staring problem, you can't call him out on it either because he just acts like he has no fucking clue what you're talking about

First Class Beast - He tried to shave his facial hair off after his serum backfired and had to wear a cone on his head for about a week

Apocalypse Jean Grey - When she's bored she'll grab a random object and just spin it around with her mutation, sometimes people have walked in unexpectedly and got hit in the face by a book or cup

Cyclops - Bites into celery fucking raw he doesn't even wash that shit

Days Of Future Past Quicksilver - He forgets that sometimes he shouldn't use his mutation in front of others, but he's usually so fast nobody notices besides the sudden gust of wind

Cherik yurrriiii ꒰⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱

Toxic Yuri Cherik save me......I have nothing else to post at the moment (because I've been working on ANOTHER cherik illustration-) so y eah

Have them for now🚶Also I am pretty sure it's bi visibility day, so to all my bisexuals I see you 😋like actually see you, I'm inside your walls rn

This happened in canon I know it.

Hank is such a g being there to support his bestie through his breakup with his toxic metal bending boyfriend

We don't talk enough about my poor man Hank. Imagine having you best friend/kind of mentor all day drinking and talking and crying about the man who paralyzed him and is now in prison for killing the president.

Charles: *really drunk* Hank? Did I tell you about what great of a kisser Erik is?

Hank: Yes. Yes, you did.

Charles: I miss him. He was always so nice to me.

Hank: He paralyzed you and he took Raven with him. Also he blocked you out of his head, with the helmet of the man he killed, which you felt, while saying you should be proud of your mutation.

Charles: *totally not listening* He's so cute. Did you ever notice how he looked, when he was thinking about something? So cute.

Hank: He killed JFK. He's locked up in the fucking Pentagon.

Charles: *suddenly very teary* It was totally my fault, wasn't it? Oh my god, I'm such a horrible person. Erik was right to leave me.

Hank: *trying to calm him down and preparing for Charles having a breakdown* Charles, listen to me. Everything you-

Charles: And we had so good sex! Oh my god... The things he can do with his tounge!

Hank: Well, nevermind...

The fucking eyebrows raise, I can't, mf almost looks like he's mewing

serving his country or SERVING his CUNTry

Yes

this crazy ass ad... we should've gotten a twenty minute uninterrupted sloppy make out session at the end of first class instead of the divorce

THE old man yaoi.

Dark Phoenix is my least favourite x-men film, can you tell?

This shit made me laugh when I'm supposed to be studying

Happy belated father’s day Dadneto.

in the stripped club. straight up “looking at it”. and by “it”, haha well. let’s justr say. my platonic buddy

seriously, the only consistent exceptions I have seen on this website are odypen, percabeth, and frazel, and getting rid of those would like trying to make patrochilles, solangelo, cherik, wolfstar, or johnlock platonic. it would just be wrong.

and as a straight cis classics major who just finished the iliad for the 100th time? yeah, there is no platonic explanation, those two are a love story to last for millennia and a tragedy to tear your heart just as long.

"Not every ship has to be gay!"

Girl you're using TUMBLR. THE gayland. What did you expect?

Unfinished Cherik Fic

Hello, dear readers. I am tired, have been working on this fic for ages, and want validation and beta-readers—so I’m forcing y’all to beta read part of my (very unfinished, 3000 words of foreplay, Cherik fic.

"I'm gay, Erik! I like men! I like cock! Quite frankly, I like you just a bit more than 'friendly' would warrant!That's what everyone in this fucking house has been making fun of me over for the past week or so—probably longer. That's why you weren't let in on my secret, and that's why I didn't want you to know."Charles was well and truly angry, but simultaneously, he was petrified. He felt nauseous—and not in the good way—and heartbroken all at once. Erik was going to leave and never come back.

Erik ponders this for a moment, before sitting down across from Charles. He takes a deep breath before speaking. Oh, god, he was gearing up to reject Charles wasn't he? Yes, you could tell by the slight crease in his brow—the least he could do is make it quick, right? Just rip off the band-aid.

"I don't want to belittle the courage and bravery that it took you to come out. I have no intentions of taking away the significance of this moment, which is why I'm going to choose my next words very carefully." Erik takes another breath. Oh god here it comes! Charles braced himself.

"I think that might be one of the hottest things I've ever heard." Well, that's a strange way of rejecting somebody—what game is Erik playing at?

"What?" Charles said, brilliantly.

"I mean, it would be—the hottest thing, I mean—if you weren't so torn up about this. You've obviously been holding on to this for a while, and I just hate to see you in pain."

"Erik, wh-" he sounds so genuine it hurts. Charles has rarely seen this side of Erik, and when he has previously, words always failed him. He is in love with Erik—the trenches—no, the Mariana Trench, of love; the mere thought that his object of affection could, and would, reciprocate...it's a wave of joy, confusion, anger, and (most of all) hope.

"I like you, Charles. I like you quite a lot. I find you very alluring. Ich bin bis über beide Ohren verliebt. In your words, I 'like cock,' specifically yours." Charles was stunned speechless; he was over the fucking moon, and his face couldn't help but show it. Erik had the privilege of bearing witness to the most beautiful fucking smile ever seen. All of the positive emotions Charles thought gone, suddenly came rushing back. His blood was making whirlpools in his ears, his heart was beating like a kick-drum, butterflies were racing around in his stomach,

"...and," Erik continued—he probably said more, but Charles couldn't hear it over the sound of his blood. "I really hope you wouldn't be opposed if wanted to kiss you. Right now." His mind adds on a 'please,' which Charles melts at (just a bit).

"I..." Charles can't even comprehend what is happening. His heart is doing somersaults in his chest, his thoughts are rushing by at one million miles a minute, and—oh, Erik asked to kiss him.

"You're right, I'm sorry that was insensit-“

Charles smashed his face against Erik's, and placed himself atop the older mutant's lap. Erik was fucking surprised, to say the least. He froze for a short breath, his arms turned to stone around Charles' body, before his brain kicked into gear. Erik clawed at the telepath's face, in like of grabbing a particularly beautiful sculpture. Charles' grip proved much rougher, (at least compared to Erik's appreciative caress), as his fingers scraped through Erik's hair. Erik never had the pleasure of witnessing Charles lost in pleasure—hunger—and, he's now decided that it's his favorite thing.

One of his hands moved on to Charles' neck, holding him softly. He held Charles with such wonder; disbelief, maybe. Erik just couldn't believe that Charles was kissing him—Charles. Charles was kissing him. Beautiful, kind, compassionate, handsome, genius, Charles. He laughed against the smaller man's mouth, and Charles was hit with a sudden wave of elation, joy, and (more importantly) love. Erik loves him, him. Charles Xavier—rumpled professor, stubborn pain in the ass, mother-hen, homebody—Charles Xavier. Charles laughed back, and smiled against Erik's mouth. Charles felt his own arousal stirring, so he (painfully) breaks the connection between their lips.

"Erik," Charles panted. "Before I devour you—or before you devour me, I'm really not adverse to either—I just...you're amazing. I've been hearing your thoughts and living your feelings, but you know none of mine." Erik's expression was...perfection. There was a clear type of astonishment seeping through his eyes, elation shining through his smile, and blush coating the tips of his ears. It clearly took him a second or ten to process what Charles said.

"Charles you don't have to-" Charles silenced him with a finger to the lips. Erik found this incredibly arousing, so he allowed it.

"I... I've never been in love. Not before you. I lived my entire life surrounded by people whose love was purely two dimensional. It wasn't real, but that was all I knew. Then came you and... I've learned that love is one of the purest emotions possible. You've slowly made yourself a spot in my head, and to be quite honest, I can't say I mind all that much." Charles finally noticed the red surfacing beneath Erik's cheeks. Wow. I've never seen him blush before, but I definitely want to see it more. Erik's brain stopped working after 'I've never been in love before.' He was star-struck, and all of Charles' words were hitting him with a slight delay.

"I don't think I can explain the measure of comfort I find in the beating of your heart," Erik spoke mindlessly, his voice doused in gravel and honey. Charles flushed at the idea of Erik being able to feel something as intimate as his heartbeat, and his...y'know—it seemed only fair, since Charles had access to Erik's thoughts. Erik carefully tugged at an earlobe with his teeth, earning a surprised yelp in return. Licking an aimless trail, Erik ended his journey with his mouth resting on cartilage, and a devious smile on his face. Charles' skin flushed a pretty rouge, panting from the sampling of his ear.

"Or the hardening of your cock," Erik continued, air crackling through the fry in his voice. He made sure Charles was secured (via ass grope) before standing up, who then let out a positively filthy moan and tensed in surprise—his legs now wrapped around Erik's midsection. He found himself practically sat on Erik's prick, earning himself a moan from the metal-bender. "Jesus Christ, Charles, do you want me to drop you?" Erik asked incredulously, still stumbling over to his bed. "I mean, eventually, yes, but right now," Charles trailed off, as Erik toppled down onto the bed—telepath first—careful not to crush his partner. "Right now," he picked up, "I'm quite satisfied with the current positioning."

"Well, I'm quite dissatisfied with current the lack of nudity," Erik quipped, tugging at any and every metal fastening in Charles' clothing.

"Impatient, are we?" Charles smirked, feeling the loosening of his jeans.

"Xavier," he said with heat, "I'm not sure if you're aware, but I seldom have attractive men in my bed, and there is no way I'm not taking advantage of the one I've managed." Charles assisted Erik in the removal of both his cardigan and trousers, but stopped Erik in the removal of his pants before they went further. "Ah-ah-ah, not until we're on equal standing. I want to see you too," and fuck if that wasn't the hottest thing Erik had ever heard. "Shit, okay" he panted, quickly disrobing himself down to his pants. He gave Charles a second to appreciate the goods, then began to explore the pale chest laid out in front of him. It's toned plains were sparsely dotted with auburn freckles, porcelain skin overrun with soft hues of pinks and reds.

"Gött, you're beautiful...like you walked out of my dreams," Erik softly hissed, his hands grasping Charles' pectorals, and positioning his thumbs right above a set of pert nipples. Charles thrashed lightly against Erik, and a pleased whimper had managed to escape the confines of his throat. It was then that Erik noticed his own length positioned directly on top of Charles'; Erik then decided to shift his hips up and down lightly, making Charles cry out in ecstasy, his eyes screwing themselves shut. He also bit down on his lip beautifully, leaving a shock of pure white against the near magenta color of his lips. Suddenly, it became absolutely imperative that Erik kiss Charles right this second—and why shouldn't he, anyway? Erik did exactly that—and with impressive finesse for a man who could, as of now, barely remember his own name—pushing more of his weight against Charles, and incidentally, moving the flesh of Charles' nipples. Charles then responded with what could only be described as a mewl, and Erik took the opportunity to utilize his tongue and explore Charles' mouth.

Erik would usually have more self-control, especially since he felt that Charles deserved to be ravished properly. But, Charles made Erik feel things that he never felt before. Erik was selfish with Charles, gluttonous was a better word—perhaps indulgent. Charles was meant to be savored, yes, but Erik had lost his self-restraint the second he felt Charles' lips on his. As he pulled away, Erik tugged on Charles' bottom lip with his teeth. He'd always wanted to try that, and yes, he would love to do it again. Then, Erik had noticed something.

"Charles."

"What?"

Charles.

By the way he'd jumped in surprise, Erik knew he received his message. "Erik, are you sure-" he began, and was cut off by a (surprisingly sweet) kiss. "Libeling, I know. The reason I wanted you out of my head was because I thought you wouldn't like what you found in there. My head is not a happy place to be, but around you...around you it's not too bad. Also, there's this embarrassing school-girl crush I have on a ridiculously handsome telepath, but you wouldn't happen to know anyone like that, would you?" Charles giggled—giggled—and quite adorably, too.

And at that, Charles let his powers off their leash. Contrary to what one might expect, telepathy is not being a 'mind-reader' in the literal sense. It's similar to reading someone's energy, as many thoughts aren't actually articulate—hell, half of them aren't even cognizant. Often times, they're muddy, and different people think in different ways. Charles thinks in feelings (or vibes) and he reads in feelings as a result. This makes it a bit complicated when reading someone who thinks in other methods; for a while, it was like trying to move a muscle that wasn't there. Now, it's simply like translating a second language, i.e he can do it if he wants, but it also expends energy—if he doesn't have that energy, then he can't translate the language, but that doesn't mean he can't hear the language. It's still very intimate to read someone's mind, obviously, and Charles is feeling a bit prudish for blushing like a nun in a sex shop. Although, Erik doesn't seem to mind much.

"What, does he go to another school?"

"Yes; I draw his name in the margins of my notebook," Erik said, as he began traveling down Charles' body. Charles let out a near maniacal laugh, and was far too amused by the joke to notice Erik's movement, until he felt the tongue on his nipple. All laughter was soon forgotten and instead cut off by a wanton moan. Charles nestled his fingers in Erik's hair, gently enough so he could still move freely. Erik continued to lick his way down Charles' lithe body, giving special attention to the few freckles he came across. Suddenly, Erik was being dragged upwards, then flipped onto his back. Charles sat atop him in triumph, seeming to have expected a fight. He began to inch downward, toying with the waistband of Erik's pants. "I'm sorry to cut you off, but I've been wanting this for longer than you can imagine," he drawled, sliding his boxers off torturously slow. "I've been imagining this since you pulled me out of the water," Erik replied through a moan, as his cock was exposed to the cold air.

"I've been imagining this since I read your mind," Charles stated before promptly sucking the ever living shit out of Erik's dick. His head was enveloped in the warmth of Charles' mouth, and Schieße was it good.

Before I pulled you out of the water, Charles added, as if that would change anything. His tongue worked skillfully, and Erik could have sworn that Charles was put on this earth just to drive him mental. Without any prelude, Charles took all of Erik with startling ease—his nose buried in Erik’s auburn nest of wiry hairs. “Schieße…ist gut”, Erik sagte als seine Stimme unglaublich niedrig fiel—and his thoughts fizzled out entirely as Charles moaned around his cock. Erik speaking German? Hot. Charles understanding German? The best decision of his high-school career.

TBC

Prompt: "Do you plan on kissing me, or just staring at my lips like they're your dinner?"

Summary: just the gay mutant road trip. This is mostly a Drabble.

Charles lay sprawled out on the couch, headache buzzing at the back of his mind. Recruitment today was...well, a 'shit show' in no uncertain terms. Charles had been in the city for most of the day, which (for a telepath), meant a killer headache. Once the pain had finally subsided enough to form coherent thought, he'd realized what little food he actually had today, finally noticing the festering hunger by the pit of his stomach. Erik had just entered from the bathroom.

"Erik," Charles beckoned from the couch.

"Yes?" Erik turned to see Charles splayed out on the couch. He wore only a robe—motel issued, of course—and white briefs. Erik put massive amounts of effort into not looking at Charle's dick, which you could vaguely see the outline of.

"I'm hungry."

"And?" Erik raised a brow, now standing in front of Charles.

"Food. I want it." Erik smirked a little at the way Charles was acting. 'Cute' was the word bouncing around in his mind; he would never admit it though. Erik could see the desperation in Charles' eyes, almost a pout. He promptly decided that it was a matter of national importance to annoy the ever-loving shit out of Charles.

"What's the magic word?" Charles shifted to lying on the couch now, head propped up by one hand.

"Erik you're amazing, wonderful, handsome, and I love you?" Charles looked up to see a visibly nervous, startled, bumbling, blushing, Erik.

Okay, maybe it's a matter of local importance?

In reaction, Charles' mouth slightly opened, eyes wide, eyebrows raised for only a fraction of a second. Because, fuck, that's hot, but also, he can't know that.

Still flushed, Erik coughed and said "that will suffice." Erik then grabbed the hotel phone, calling down room service—while also, actively paying no mind to Charles. About a minute later, Charles piped up.

"I can flirt too, you know." Erik raised a brow and snapped to Charles' eyes.

"Yes, I've seen it in action. I often watch it with abject horror."

"You weren't staring at my ass in abject horror," Charles mumbled, breaking eye contact with Erik (who is, once again, a mess).

"No, I was staring at your ass with uncertain lust. Your ass isn't you flirting though, Charles. Your flirting is 'oh, hello attractive person, may I unzip your genes?" This time, Charles went red in the face, and let out a scoff.

"Erik, I purposefully shake my ass in front of you. I bite on the tip of my pen, I walk around half naked more often then normal, I leave the door open when I shower."

"I... I thought that was just you."

"It is, it's me when I'm around you"

Suddenly, a knock on the door breaks the trance both men were looped into. Erik shuffles around to open the door and mumbles a "thanks" to the worker. Charles loses himself in thought and Erik sifts through the food. He brings Charles his lava cake on the couch, where he sits down next to him with his coffee. Erik has to push around Charles' legs to make room. Once settled, Charles just places his legs on top of Erik's—both men sitting on opposite ends of the sofa, facing towards each other. Charles finally begins to dig into his lava cake, making aggressive eye contact with Erik. After a while, he shifts his fork around on the empty plate, still staring at Erik. Charles’ eyes landed on Erik’s lips; a shot of anticipation went up his spine. He’d thought about this many times before, and his thoughts began to spiral, replaying old fantasies. I don’t know where I want his lips first. Maybe we’d make out a bit first, then he’d kiss down my neck. Maybe he’d find that spot right behind my ear. Maybe I’d get to see his lips wrapped around my-

"Charles, are you still hungry?" Both men now sat 'pretzel style' still facing each other, when they got there remains a mystery. Charles now met Erik’s eyes, blood rushing up to his cheeks.

"No, I'm plenty full, why?" Charles leaned in slightly

"Okay, then do you plan on kissing me or just staring at my lips like they're your desert?"

Charles' eyes go dark with lust; his body stills. He nearly throws the plate down, muttering something along the lines of "bastard," and surges forward to meet Erik. Erik's hands frame the sides of Charles' face; Charles' hands grasp the older man's hair. Their noses were touching, breath burning each other's skin, mere inches away from kissing. Charles' eyes frantically searched Erik's, as if attempting to commit the moment to memory.

"Do you always play with your food, Charles?" Erik asked, and Charles could feel the question against his mouth. Charles let out a soft "fuck you" before finally closing the distance. As their lips met, they began to slowly devour one another. Their kiss was surprisingly... non-aggressive; sweet, even. Still full of passion, lust, and desire, but it was clear that neither of them were in a rush. Both men savored their (now) lover's taste. Erik let out a breathy laugh, and Charles did the same. Words left unsaid, declarations of love, and pure adoration were confessed against each other's lips.

Charles tugged against Erik's hair, and Erik groaned. Erik, in retaliation, shifted his hands down to Charles' ass, making him yelp. He lifted Charles closer, placing him atop his own lap. The couple broke apart for air, now panting in to each other's mouths. Erik's hands found Charles' face again, thumbs stroking softly.

“You taste like chocolate," Erik rasped, because honestly, he has no clue what to say. Charles placed a chaste kiss on the corner of Erik's mouth. He responded, in a similar tone, with "you taste like bastard."

Erik laughed, and oh god, that's one of Charles' favorite sounds.

"And, pray tell, what does bastard taste like, Charles?" Oh fuck, he's never said my name like that before.

"It tastes like the idiot who agreed to travel with me." Both men leaned back slightly, now looking into one another's eyes. "Tell me more about this idiot," Erik purred, one hand now roaming across Charles' neck. Charles released Erik's hair, and instead, wrapped his hands around Erik's arms.

"Well, he's stubborn," Charles began, Erik contenting with a mhm. Charles contemplated his next words, before trying again.

"He's stubborn, handsome… probably my best friend, and has these piercing, stormy eyes. He speaks five languages, and I swoon every time he speaks his native tongue. To be fair, I swoon every time he speaks period. His laugh is one of my favorite sounds in the world, and he's the only person I enjoy arguing with. He's a beautiful masterpiece of passion, even though he can't see it. Sometimes it scares me—how honest I am with him. He's very vocal about mutant rights, he's a wonderful addition to my life, and I think I might be a little bit in love with him." Erik's thumb stopped moving, and his body stilled.

"I think that idiot is a little bit in love with you too."

Please send me requests if you have any! I do !x reader’s too, I just haven’t had a good idea for one.

Summary: "If we can go one week with no lies, then we will go on a field trip, only the winners, of course."

That was Charles' idea...to be completely honest, Charles only made this bet so Erik would flirt with him...Charles' plan was working out to be spectacularly terrible.

There had been a bet going around the school, among the staff, mainly. Charles had been preaching the importance of honesty and transparency, but he quickly realized that his colleagues needed more incentive.

"If we can go one week with no lies, then we will go on a field trip, only the winners, of course."

That was Charles' idea and so far, it was quite fun. To be completely honest, Charles only made this bet so Erik would flirt with him -unintentionally, mind you. Two days in, and Charles' plan was working out to be spectacularly terrible. Erik was seemingly avoiding Charles, which was a valid strategy, but still.

Charles had walked into the lounge room, hoping to catch Erik and a cup of coffee. Erik was indeed there, likely on his way out of the lounge. Erik wore that borderline sinful black turtleneck along with a tight pair of pants.

"Erik, fancy a game of chess during our 30 minute break?"

Erik had finally taken note of Charles' presence and became extremely nervous for some godforesaken reason. Erik knew the reason: he likes Charles, it's as simple as that. He loves those piercing blue eyes, the kind smile, the soft, untouched hands of Charles Xavier. He won't deny it... okay, well, maybe he will. Everyone seems to know this fact besides Charles. 

" I would love to Charles but I have tests to grade," he said with an obviously fake smile. Technically, that wasn't a lie; Erik would love to play a game with Charles and he did have tests to grade. Charles sighed, "oh, I see...well, perhaps next time then." Erik gave a genuine smile this time.

"Perhaps." On the way out, he brushed past Charles, both of their faces reddening madly. Oh, if only they could see each other from an outsider's perspective. They are so obviously in love even a blind man could see it and a deaf girl could hear it.

***

Charles was walking down one of the school's many corridors, in search of one Erik Lehnsherr.

"Charles," Raven spoke from behind him. "Yes?" He queried, turning to see her. "Have you seen Hank?" So Raven had the same idea as Charles it seems.

"That depends, have you seen Erik?"

"Ooh, are you trying to seduce him or something?"

"I won't tell if you won't."

"Deal, Erik is by the fountain reading."

"Lovely, Hank is in the tennis court."

Charles immediately turned around and began pacing to his destination. 'Of course Erik was reading' Charles thought to himself. He strolled over to one of the many exits of the building.  Charles wandered lost in thought . Maybe I'll have a romantic moment with Erik by the fountain, like in all of those Rom-coms that Raven keeps telling me about. Maybe we could be like Bella and Edward—less cliche of course... Unbeknownst to Charles, he was about to walk face first into his Edward. This realization came with the audible thud of Charles' face colliding with the muscly chest of Erik, Erik's book now on the floor as a result.   Charles looked up to find a very flustered Erik—not that Erik looked flustered, but the bar of flustered for the (usually stoic) Erik is very low. 

"Erik, hello again.  Sorry, let me-"

Charles bent down at the exact same time Erik did.  Their foreheads met with a (less audible, but still) very painful thud, sending both men backwards on their asses. 

"Fuck" Erik muttered.  Erik looked up to see Charles: his legs bent upward and nearly sprawled out with his hand against his forehead.  For some reason (again, Erik knew the reason), Charles seemed to be the most captivating creature on earth, far more interesting than Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere.  Charles had looked up about four seconds before Erik realized he was staring.  Erik's eyes quickly darted away from Charles' strikingly blue ones.  "Well, I had been meaning to run into you, but this was not what I had in mind." Erik chuckled at this.

"I would hope." Charles smiled at Erik.  On the outside, Erik simply sat in nearly the exact position of Charles, mouth slightly open but still with a calm demeanor.  On the inside it sounded more like this:

Holy shit, Charles' eyes are piercing through my fucking soul.  If we were back in about 400 b.c I would think this man is Jesus and confess my sins to him...

"Well, Jesus was actually brown—likely with dark eyes. He was born in Nazareth, which was in the Middle East.  The only reason we think Jesus is white is because DaVinci was commissioned to paint a picture of Jesus.  He, of course, modeled it after his boyfriend at the time." Erik was hit with an abrupt sense of confusion.

"Hey-"

"I can't help if your thoughts are loud, Erik!"

"Right..."

Erik and Charles sat in the same spot, simply staring into each other's eyes for an unreasonable amount of time.

"Would you like to go back to the fountain?" Charles propositioned with a tint of uneasiness.

"S-Sure, Charles" Erik babbled.  Charles' own name falling off of Erik's lips hit him like a freight train.

Fuck, I wish I could hear that more... "Need a hand, Schatz?" Charles looked up to see Erik standing above him, hand outstretched.  Charles grasped Erik's hand and found that Erik pulled him up much harder than Charles pulled Erik down. This resulted in both men's faces being much closer than platonic allowed.  Erik quickly turned to the side, a very subtle blush dusting his cheeks.  For a split second, Charles could feel Erik's breath on his lips, Erik's slight stubble scraping against his chin, Erik's cologne filling his nostrils. Charles was going to ride this high for months.

"C'mon, let's go" Erik spoke with a hint of nervousness. Charles, still spaced out and on cloud nine, mindlessly followed Erik to the fountain.

***

"And then he sees door..." Charles was sitting on the fountain next to Erik, listening to him go on a passionate tangent about the book he had been reading.  Listening is a bit generous though, rather, Erik's words were hitting Charles like water across a creek floor.  "And then-"

"Erik?" Charles asked, creating an abrupt end to Erik's sentence.

"Charles?" he mimicked.

"What do you think about my eyes?"

"What?" Erik panicked internally.

"You keep thinking about them."

"I-" Erik took a moment to compose himself, trying to calculate the weight of his words.

"Your eyes are...beautiful" Vorefreud his mind was screaming.

"What does that mean Erik? 'vorefreud'?" Erik's cheeks reddened.

"Uhm...it uh, it means..." Erik closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, his eyes now meeting Charles'.

"Vorefreud pretty much means the pleasure of waiting for something pleasurable."

"And why do my eyes bring that word to mind?" Charles said with a grin that he simply couldn't hide. Erik was silent, his eyes never leaving Charles'.  Erik slowly lurched closer to Charles, his left hand coming up to Charles clean-shaven jawline and his right coming to rest atop Charles' hand on the smooth stone of the fountain.

And just like that, Erik was kissing Charles and Charles was kissing Erik. Both men felt this heavy weight suddenly lift off of their shoulders.  The pining, the sexual tension, the unspoken feelings, all of that was paying off.  Erik noted that Charles' lips were unreasonably soft, and Charles found that Erik's lips were slightly chapped.  The kiss was not ravenous, rather a soft, passionate, admission of love.  Charles brought his hands up to Erik's sides, his thumbs slowly moving up and down against Erik's sweater.  Erik pulled away, but not before hitting Charles' bottom lip and dragging his teeth across it.  At this, Charles let out a sharp gasp, his eyes pointedly meeting Charles. 

Erik looked passionately exasperated, eyes boring into Charles.  Charles brought one of his hands up to touch his lips, rubbing across the part Erik had just bit.  Erik smiled at this, the widest smile Charles has ever seen from him. A slight chuckle escaped his lips. The urge to, once again, kiss Erik washed over Charles, who decided to listen to it.  He lunged forward, one hand clasped itself against the underside of Erik's chin and the other flew to the back of Erik's head, roughly gripping his hair. 

Erik cursed against Charles' mouth and kissed back, this time ravenously. Erik's hands found Charles' back, his arms looping underneath Charles'.  Erik nibbled on Charles' bottom lip, this time, making him groan.  Erik took this as an opening and gracefully slid his tongue into Charles' mouth.  This kiss was no longer an admission of their feelings, but now a declaration, an announcement.  Charles now pulled away, his forehead resting against Eriks'. 

"Erik," Charles softly spoke.

"Charles," Erik said with an audible smile.

"I'm glad you think so loudly."

"Me too."

WC: 1482

A/N: Thanks for reading, babes!

Introducing a new fan to MARVEL pt. 2

There are two major break ups in the Marvel universe.

First we have the great Civil War breakup between Steve and Tony.

Second is the Cuba Beach breakup between Charles and Erik.

Neither are pleasant, both stem from different points of view, and both are commonly ignored.

“What? What are you doing?”

“You’ve never looked better, Darling.”

We were robbed of this scene.

Peter: How much do you bet I can fit these 10 marshmallows in my mouth?

Charles: You are a hazard to society.

Billy: And a coward-

Tommy: -Do twenty!

Erik: Peter nO

Peter, returned from the MCU: that sucked. I need a drink.

Peter: *downs four shots of dark coffee*

Erik: Peter, nO

—— ten minutes later——

Charles: who gave Peter coffee?! Whoever it was gets to fill in those trenches!

Peter: I need advice.

Erik: Live fast, die young, leave a sexy corpse.

Charles: My advice is to never listen to Erik's advice.

Okay, so I’ve been wanting to write a a Logan x OC fanfic with the OC as a professor at Charles school and I wrote the first chapter (really short cause its just sort of a bit of background) and I thought I’d post it here just to see how people would receive it!

(Also this is set when she’s about fifteen, the actual first chapter is going to be a major time jump, so through the fic she’ll be about 30)

Warnings: runaway teen (?), sleeping in a diner, she thinks Charles is kinda weird, not proof read lmao, nothing else I don’t think?

———————

She woke up cold. Her lashes flutter against her cheeks, sore with sleep. It was too frigid in the small diner, the heater did little in the winter and they had put her right by the door that let in a breeze every time it swung open; biting her skin. Her own attire wasn’t much help either, she thought.

The too-big sweatshirt hanging off her shoulders wasn’t thick enough to keep her warmer than her own body heat could, and her jeans were still wet from falling into the snow outside of the empty diner. The only warmth she had was from the thick leather boots on her feet that were two sizes too big.

The heavy thrill of hail outside the small diner window was a heavy patter in her ear drums. The bright beaming twenty-four hour sign hummed against the window, the fluorescent light flickering harsh blue and red light.

She pressed her open palm to the side of her cheek, eyes looming over the other patrons. Most of the diner was vacant, the waitresses bide behind the counters and the heavy steam of coffee burned in the air. She felt hunger nestle in the pit of her empty stomach, if she had enough shoved away in her rucksack she could get pancakes, if she had enough energy she wouldn’t need to pay for them at all. But she had a feeling she would.

She pushed against the table, stretching carefully, ignoring the always present ache in her limbs. Her fingers pushed against her scalp, feeling against her boyish cut hair.

It was just getting long enough for the curls to furl beside her ear, but it still bristled against her fingers. It made people stare less the more it grew, and she was thankful. Soon enough she’d attract even less attention.

Maryn could hear the soft clicking of heels, it was the waitress, she could hear the whisper of her thoughts flutter against her skull. Her mind was always hazy after sleeping, so none of the whispers were coherent enough for her to understand. She didn’t look up until she was right beside the table.

“You want anything, sweetheart?” She had a pot of coffee in her hand, and a southern lilt in her voice. “You’ve been here a while, you must be hungry.”

If she had noticed Maryn sleeping only moments ago she didn’t mention it, but her thoughts fluttered with concern.

“Pancakes?” Maryn blinked up at her.

The waitress nodded, her name tag read Hellen. She had blonde straw-like hair and yellow rimmed glasses.

“How about some chocolate chip pancakes, huh? Knock your socks right off.” She smiled, and Maryn nodded, unwilling to deny the indulgence. “I’ll get those right out, sweet pea.”

She walked away, bright red shoes clicking as she did. She was nice.

Maryn sunk back into her seat, one of the waitresses turned on a radio and through the storm the music didn’t sound like it had any words, covered by static, but its gentle tune was nice enough.

She rubs the ache over her tired eyes, she’d have to walk further when the sun finally came up. If her jeans dried before she left the diner maybe she’d make it further than she did today. Just the thought of more walking made her head throb and ache.

Hitching a ride wasn’t a far idea for her, but didn’t like all the questions that came with asking for help. They can’t help it, always the most obvious questions first, Where are your parents? Are you all alone? Shouldn’t you be in school? She was tired of it.

The soft jingle of the bell hanging over the door rang lightly as it swung open. Maryn tugged her sweater closer when the biting breeze crept through the sleeves.

Another soft flutter of whispers filled her head, she ignored them. She didn’t care to hear anyone else's thoughts. But they grew closer, until someone was coming up beside her table again, and then the whispers were gone.

“Hello.” An accented voice greeted. “Mind if I join you?”

She looked up at the man beside her table, her eyes trailing up the silvery metal of the wheelchair he was sitting in before his face.

He was older, weathered and looked at her with a familiar kind of smile while wearing the nicest suit she had ever seen. A deep blue with a matching tie and one of those pieces of fabric people shove into the chest pocket. It made him stand out, looking strange in the rickety diner.

She doesn’t say anything, but he picks up the menu at the other end of the table and she doesn’t stop him.

“I’m Charles Xavier.” He said warmly, he extended a hand, “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

She looked at his hand curiously before reaching out to shake it slowly. His hand is warm.

“Hi.” She said, wearily. He looks at their joined hands when they touch.

“Cold,” He smiles, “I’d imagine this is the warmest place around these parts.”

“For a few miles.” Maryn shrugs, he didn't seem like the worst person to have a conversation with.

“Did you walk yourself here?” She nodded. “The next town isn’t for miles. You must be exhausted.”

She shrugged, again. She felt how she always felt. Cold, tired, achy. His eyes trail over the rucksack tucked into her side.

“Is that all your things?” She nodded, tugging her bag closer.

“What I can carry.” She tells him. He hums.

“It looks heavy. Must have been difficult in this weather.”

“It’s alright.”

“If you say so.” He smiles.

She nods.

Charles, the strange British man, didn’t seem annoyed by her silence, but she was rather perturbed by his. His mind was completely silent, not a single whisper.

Usually she couldn’t keep other people’s thoughts away, only if she really concentrated she could quiet the noise down for a little bit, but it’s like his mind was completely empty.

Her dark fawn-like eyes trail up his head. She usually didn’t have to focus so much, and even now as she did, she heard nothing.

You won’t get anything up here, Maryn.

She jumped in her seat.

“Alright, baby, I got your pancakes and–oh,” Hellen came back with a hot steaming stack of chocolate chip pancakes. She looked between the two, eyeing Charles, “Is everything alright over here?”

“Yes, splendid, could I get some coffee, please? And,” He pauses to look at Maryn, “A milkshake, for my friend.”

There was only one milkshake on the menu, vanilla.

Hellen looks at her first, and then back at him.

“Of course. Coming right up, sugar.” And she clicks away again.

Charles smiled at her, kindly.

“It’s rude to snoop, you know.” He says, though there’s not much sternness in his tone.

“Most people don’t seem to mind.” She said plainly.

Charles dipped his head with a funny smile.

“I’m sure they don’t.”

“How do you know my name?” She asked, picking up her fork and butter knife as she did. She was curious but still starving. She grabbed the syrup at the end of the table, smothering her cakes.

“Because I have been keeping an eye on you for quite some time, Maryn.” He admits, watching her scarf down her pancakes like they’d run away from her. “You are very special.

“Special" isn't the word most people use.” She says out of the edge of her mouth, still chewing.

“We are not most people.” Charles hums.

“Yeah,” she muttered plainly.

“I’ll admit, your…capabilities are more advanced than I’ve seen in others your age.” He observed, “It’s quite impressive.”

Maryn doesn’t say anything to that. She didn’t have anything to say. Charles continues.

“You know, most mutant children I find are often in groups. They find one another, and protect each other.” His fingers drum on the fake carved plastic, “You remain by yourself. Have you not met others?”

She cuts jaggedly into her pancakes.

“I have.” She chews.

“And what happened?”

She thought about not telling him, then she thought he already knew and was just waiting for her to say it. Either way, he waits patiently across from her, waiting for her to say something; same gentle look in his eye.

“There's something inside me.” She admits, dubiously, “It scares people.”

“Does it scare you?” Again, she doesn’t answer.

Charles looked at her for a long time, she almost thought he was going to go away, leave her there, growing frustrated with her insolence. But he doesn’t. Instead, he looks at her with the same familiar smile.

“I have a school.” He says, “It’s not much now, barely a handful of students, even less teachers, but I created it for gifted children. Children like you.”

Maryn stared at him, her fork stabbing a piece of pancake on her plate.

“A school?”

He nods.

“I’d very much like you to attend.” He tells her, eyes looking her over, “Perhaps I can help you.

He seems to mean it. It’s the first time she can’t see into someone’s mind to know if they’re telling the truth or not, but she has a feeling, an unfamiliar feeling, that she can trust him.

She looked down at her plate, “What if you can’t?”

Charles looks at her carefully.

“Then maybe I can help you learn to control it.” Maryn looks up at him. “At the least, you’ll have a warm bed, food. Clothes that fit.”

For the first time since they started talking, she smiles. It’s small, but it’s there.

“Alright, a coffee for you,” They both looked at Hellen as she came back, “And a milkshake for you, Angel.”

“Yes, we’ll have the check please.” Charles says kindly. Then he places his forefinger and his middle finger to his temple and looks Hellen in the eyes,“You will not remember us once we leave.”

Maryn watches the waitress's eyes glaze over from behind her glasses before she smiles again.

“I’ll get that right out for you.”

Maryn looked at Charles.

“Can I do that?”

“We shall see, won’t we?” His lips spread into a thin smile. “Finish your pancakes.”

——————-

Omg I feel so anxious I literally have never done this before 😭 but please let me know what you guys think! If I do decide to post the whole fic it’ll prob be on ao3 just cause I plan to make it pretty long/slow burn

But I hope u guys like it 🙌🙌