In a world still struggling to fight mutant segregation, Charles and Erik have made it pretty far. High school sweethearts in the middle of getting both of their respective college degrees while working (as best Charles can as a part-time dispatcher for 911, given that its hard enough to find a job as a mutant, let alone a paraplegic) Erik and Charles are happy with each other.

Until the day that they come across a group of boys no older than themselves who are convinced that homosexual mutants are the scum of the earth. Erik scares them off easily enough, but Charles is left unsettled by the images he saw in their mind of his and Erik’s cruel deaths played out in various ways.

Things to back to normal for a few more days, until Charles is on his way home from work, taking the city bus (saves on gas, after all!) and he finds himself attacked by the same boys from earlier that week.

Erik, sitting in class, starts to feel uneasy when Charles fails to text him and let him know that he’s gotten home alright. Its something they do - just to make sure the other is safe - and he calls Charles not ten minutes after and his phone goes straight to voicemail. Erik knows this is abnormal. Charles charges his phone every day and he never, NEVER shuts it off.

Erik’s gut feeling starts to get worse and worse as the minutes drag on, until he calls up Moira, who works with Charles, and asks if he left to go home. He has, and he’s not home, and Erik tells her about the boys from earlier that week and how Charles had never felt very comfortable after their run-in.

Erik tells her what the car looks like, as well as the license plate numbers that he remembers.

He’s heading home not fifteen minutes later when Moira calls and says that they were seen leaving the nearby cemetery and Erik’s gut drops as the words, “I’ll bury you,” come back to him in startling clarity.

He tells Moira this, even as he’s already clambering off of the bus near their apartment and running for his car.

Erik shows up at the cemetery to see two squad cars there, waiting for him. That’s when he hears Charles’ voice, weak and tired and frightened, inside of his head.

Erik, Erik - oh god - Erik, can you hear me?

Now, its only a matter of finding the right grave in the next half hour and digging Charles out before he asphyxiates.

PREVIOUSLY ON UNTITLED MOBSTER VERSE….

Charles was stirred from his sleep when he heard the scraping thump of footsteps crossing his living room. Groggily, he pried his eyes open, pillows digging into his back, and peeked his head over the arm of the couch to identify the sound. He felt exhausted, so bone-tired that he had barely been able to get through an old episode of NCIS before fatigue had dragged him under, and grateful for the day reprieve after a month of working nonstop at the clinic to try and gain business.

Charles’ heart shot up into his throat when his eyes fell on the sight of Erik roaming around his living room, pausing every now and then to fiddle with a trinket or photo. Terrified, Charles felt his joints lock up in paralysis, helpless to stop the man from fiddling amongst the nicknacks lining the living room shelves. Holding his breath and staying utterly immobile, he waited, watching as Erik slowly made his way towards the couch.

Erik’s attention flicked towards Charles, lips curling into an amused grin as he dug his hands into his suit pockets. “You didn’t bring in my payment today, Charles.”

Stiffening, Charles held Erik’s gaze as panic burned in his stomach. He tried to keep the tremor out of his voice, speaking as evenly as his sleep-laden voice would allow. “I took a day off from the clinic.”

“You still turned a profit, which - in turn - you would have brought to me… as per our agreement.” Erik reached out to pick up the framed photograph sitting on the end table, observing the image of Charles and his sister smiling at the camera. He set the photograph down crookedly. “Therefore, I had been expecting you. You made me wait for two hours, Charles.”

Charles started to sit up, a protest on his lips when he caught the spatter of red along the edges of Erik’s sleeve hem. His face felt hot, and it was a struggle to keep breathing, unable to tear his eyes from the way the dark red had sunk into the fabric of Erik’s suit, barely noticeable save for the sheen and reddish tint against dark navy.

Erik’s hand drew back from the portrait, looking expectantly at Charles. It didn’t take him long to notice that Charles was no longer watching him, and followed his gaze to the cuff of his sleeve.

Charles’ eyes snapped up to Erik’s face when the Don released an amused chuckle, face considerably paler than it had been moments before. Erik gave a tired sigh, hands rising to smooth and straighten his disheveled hair. Charles took only the barest of moments to realize that Erik looked haggard, his hair unkempt and sweat dotting the exposed line of his collarbone where his suit had been unbuttoned. For once, he wasn’t wearing a tie, and there was stubble lining his face and dark rings under his eyes that gave hint to a few sleepless nights.

“I’ve always hated the summer,” Erik mused, hands dropping as he adjusted his sleeves and wiped absently at the blood that had crusted on the edge, “Gives me these horrible nosebleeds.” Erik’s lips curled up, flashing the barest hint of teeth as he spoke.

Charles swallowed, throat dry and sticking, and he nodded jerkily. Erik seemed satisfied with the action, and stuck his hands back into his pocket to smirk down at the young doctor.

“Where are- uhm…” Charles sat up, his arms shaking from the strain and smothered fear as Erik took a step back to let Charles swing his feet onto the floor. “Your friends?”

Erik rocked back onto his heels before falling forward with a loud tap of expensive
Gucci shoes. Charles flinched at the sound, tearing a chuckle from the man before him. Erik sucked on his teeth for a moment and then inclined his head to the door. “Azazel is outside.”

“… and Logan?” Charles ventured.

Erik smothered a grin, eyes flashing with amusement and then ghosting along the room absently. “Indisposed.”

Charles sat up straighter, a distressed sound escaping him as he struggled to find his voice. “Indisposed?” He croaked, “What the blo- what do you mean by ‘indisposed’? Is he dead?!”

Erik’s attention seemed to fall everywhere before finally returning to Charles, his smirk pulling back into a full-on grin. “No.”

“So then whe-“

“Get me a cup of tea, will you?” Erik interrupted smoothly, his tone low and even, albeit amused. Charles’ mouth snapped shut, teeth clacking painfully as he swallowed his words. Erik’s eyes were striking and intense, picking apart every atom of Charles’ being as if he could see into his very soul and pluck the weakness  right out of him.

Charles’ broke eye contact first, staring down at his knees and almost shaking with the effort it took to keep his breathing normal. “Of course,” he pushed himself into a stand, chest bumping with Erik’s and feeling a gust of breath brush over his temple. “Do you take sugar?”

“Two, please,” Erik murmured lowly.

Charles moved to the left, and Erik shadowed him so that their bodies knocked together again. Hesitating, Charles stepped to the right and was met with the same resistance. He looked up, eyes locking with Erik’s and scowling.

“Could I get by, please?”

Erik’s eyebrows shot up, and Charles could tell in that moment how drained the man really was. There were lines of exhaustion in the corners of his eyes, a defined crease between his brows, and patches of stubble where there should have been nothing but smooth skin. Charles took in a tempered breath through his nose, their proximity giving him the thick, humid scent of evaporated sweat and summer heat, coupled with the metallic tang of blood and gunpowder. Charles shuddered - fear like a trickle of ice dragging down his spine - and watched Erik grin and step out of the way for him.

Charles crossed his way to the kitchen, hand running tiredly through his hair and mussing it even more than his impromptu nap had. He took the time to stretch his body when he reached up to grab a cup from the pantry, biting back a yawn and almost dropping the cup when he turned to see Erik leaning against the door frame and watching his every move with detached interest.

Setting the cup on the counter, Charles grabbed the pot from his automated brewer (it doubled as a coffee maker, should he need the extra caffeine) and filled it up enough for two cups.

“Do you expect me to go to the clinic and open the safe for your money?” Charles asked softly, grabbing the tea packets and placing them in the filter. It was a struggle not to drop anything, hands shaking while his mind went through a myriad of possible scenarios that would end up with him penniless or dead in the trunk of a car somewhere.

“Perhaps.” Erik said, eyes watching Charles cross the room to retrieve the sugar container from atop the refrigerator. Charles grabbed the top of the door, trying to pull himself higher, but Hank had been the last to use the sugar when he’d come over for coffee that afternoon, and now it was too far out of his reach. Charles knew what was going to happen the second his fingers knocked the sugar out of his reach, and tried not to jump out of his skin when Erik walked up behind him and caged his body against the fridge.

“You shouldn’t put essential items out of reach like that,” Erik teased, his chest slotting up against Charles’ back as he reached for the sugar, one hand falling to Charles’ hip for balance. Charles pressed his forehead against the cool metal of the freezer door, arm falling to his side limply while Erik retrieved the sugar and stepped back slowly.

Charles turned, taking the sugar from Erik’s loose hold and trying not to look at the pleased smirk that had become permanently attached to the Don’s face. “Hank was the one who put it away,” he muttered, walking back over to the tea maker and setting the sugar down beside the two mugs.

“Your coworker comes here?” Erik asked, a sharpness belying something more than his usual indifference.

Charles turned, leaning against the counter as he rubbed his right eye. “Hank is a friend, first and foremost, and a coworker second.”

Erik’s rigid stance relaxed only minutely, mulling over Charles’ words as the other man turned to check on the tea. The indicator light flashed, letting him know that their drinks were ready and he set about pouring Erik and himself a cup each.

“Is Logan hospitalized?” Charles asked evenly, setting Erik’s cup to the side and then pouring his own. He had to remember to remain calm - no matter what the outcome of his insolence resulted in. If Erik had gotten one of his own men killed, it couldn’t possibly bode well for Charles’ own welfare. He was terrified at the idea of angering Erik, but if the man could waltz right into his home as if he owned it, Charles doubted he was safe either way.

“Does Hank come into your bed as well as your home?” Erik retorted, barely a waver in his pitch. Charles poured the appropriate amount of sugar into each of their cups.

“If you were going for subtle with that change of subject, you missed the mark. Cream?” The spoon clacked when Charles stirred the sugar in, and Erik chuckled.

“No, and I could say the same for you.” Erik took his mug when Charles handed it over, taking a cursory sip while he watched Charles tap his spoon on the edge of his own cup and set it in the sink. “It would be wise not to ask those sorts of questions if you want to keep yourself out of this business.”

Charles turned around, lifting his tea and drinking deeply from it. It was an effort to remind himself that this Erik was not the one he knew from high school. This Erik wasn’t the same Erik who would show up to class with bruises and a scowl, or hide his way through gym. This wasn’t the same Erik that would stare at Charles with wide, disbelieving eyes when he was handed half of Charles’ lunch. This Erik didn’t have a father who made threats to any member of the student body who dared talk to his son.

This Erik was the one who had murdered his own father and taken over his business. This Erik was the man with enough power to destroy everything Charles held dear with just a simple phone call.

Charles licked his lips, catching a sudden burst of sweet sugar that must have clung to the rim of the cup and then stuck to his mouth. “I’m a doctor. Is your friend in the hospital, or not?”

Erik grinned, sampling another swig of the tea and then rising one eyebrow just the tiniest bit. “You would only ask those sort of questions if you cared about what I do,” he pointed out. Charles scowled, fingers wrapped around the warm mug of his tea as he shook his head.

“I could care less about your profession, I only asked if you had gotten that bodyguard of yours ki-“

Charles choked on his words when Erik stepped up into his space and plucked his cup straight from his hands, setting both of them on the counter. He felt trapped, cornered between the cabinets and Erik’s body. His heart gave a painful lurch, thundering against his chest and sending his nerves alight with panic and the slightest coil of desire.

Erik’s hand rose, fingertips ghosting along the outline of Charles’ jaw with barely a hint of pressure before pinching his chin between a thumb and forefinger. “Have dinner with me,” Erik murmured, thumb brushing the outline of Charles’ lower lip. Charles shook, lungs aching with the need to breathe as each agonizing second passed. He stared up at Erik, but the Don’s focus was on his bottom lip as he teased it with the bad of his thumb.

“We can discuss the finer aspects of things,” Erik finished, allowing his hand to slowly fall away and his eyes to return to Charles’.

“Okay,” Charles croaked, once he had found his voice and swallowed enough saliva to wet his dry throat.

Grinning was an action that nearly lit up Erik’s entire face, though it looked more wicked than anything. “I’ll come for you at eight, then?”

“Okay….”

Erik stepped back and Charles could finally, finally breathe as he watched the man look more smug than a cat who’d caught the canary. “Thank you for the tea, Charles. I’ll see you tonight.”

Erik left before Charles could even think to bid the man goodbye. It took another long moment before Charles was able to process everything, and he slid down the cabinets until he was sitting on the floor and struggling to stay calm.

Fuck.

czarnyma:

gingerhaze:

LARGE SIZE

You know maybe all Loki needed was a nice hug session with Charles.

I wonder if Charles would have had better luck with Loki than he did with Erik? 

Just like what Hiddles said… Loki just needs a hug.

omg.a sdflaksdjfaksdjfladskfjasld

“He’s my brother! And I feel like he doesn’t even care anymore!” Loki cried, face splotchy with tears and hands curled into fists so tight they shook. His thin chest heaved with another restrained sob and Charles Xavier released a soft tutting noise, arms rising up until they were curled around Loki’s shoulders.

“Come on, now, don’t be like that. Give us a hug, yeah?” Charles said gently, pulling Loki down into a hug that was made awkward due to the difference in their height. Loki’s body trembled, quiet whimpers and sniffles leaving him as Charles guided them both to sit on the floor.

“I’ve tried everything to get him to notice me, a-and nothing works! I tried to h-help the family, and to puh-protect him from those humans, yet they act like I’M the bad guy!” Loki’s voice cracked, shoulders shaking. Charles knelt beside Loki, shushing him gently and bringing one hand to rub up and down the God’s back.

“It’s all right, now, just calm your mind and we can talk about this.” Charles soothed, head resting in the crook of Loki’s shoulder with his cheek pressed up against the cold metal of his helmet. Loki whimpered, shaking his head slowly and pulling one arm down from around Charles’ neck to wipe his nose with the back of his hand.

“There’s no point, h-he doesn’t care.” Loki muttered weakly as he dropped his hand from his face and let it fall limply to the ground. The door outside creaked before it released a deafening bang when it was blown from off its hinges. Charles glanced up, continuing to pat and rub Loki’s back as Thor stepped over the debris with his hammer in hand, face contorted into a look of righteous determination.

“Loki!” The thunderer boomed, raising his hammer menacingly, “You will pay for your crimes against- oh… ” Thor fell awkwardly silent as Loki broke into a round of painful, body-wracking sobs at the sound of his brother’s voice. “Uhm,”

Charles held Loki tighter, arms a comforting blanket around his trembling frame as he looked up at Thor. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, “but could you give us a minute?”  Charles looked back down at Loki, rubbing the back of his helmet in slow circles as the arm that Loki had around his neck curled tighter in its desperation.

“It’s all right, now, Loki.” Charles whispered gently, petting down the trickster’s back as Loki tried desperately to hold his sobs in. “Shh, just calm your mind.”

It may not have worked long with Erik, nothing Charles did could help Erik, but he wanted to at least help soothe away some of the pain inside of Loki’s heart. With that in mind, Charles pressed his telepathy through to Loki’s thoughts and memories. He searched for the bright corner, hidden between storms of rage and doubt and pain, grasping to a memory that glimmered brighter than the rest. Thor continued to stand in the doorway, shifting uncomfortably as Loki sniffed  and whimpered just seconds before Charles pulled forth a single moment from their childhood, when Thor had defended Loki from their father’s anger, preaching love and family and trust. It had been long ago, something Loki’s mind had hidden away and kept safe all of these years.

Charles brought it back.

“I’ll just…go..” Thor muttered, hesitating when Loki released a pained gasp and went deathly still. Charles held back his own wash of emotion that often came with accessing memories, rubbing Loki’s back when the trickster choked and shook his head.

“Please don’t,” Loki pleaded, “don’t tease me like this. I n-never have my brother b-back. This is cruel,”

Charles nearly recoiled, startled that his best healing method had the opposite effect, and quickly repressed the memory as Loki sniffled loudly.

“Thank you,”

“Anything, my friend.” Charles said, giving Loki a tight and comforting squeeze. His eyes shot up, connecting with Thor’s and watching a myriad of conflicted emotions flicker across the Thunder God’s face. A simple mental nudge got Thor to leave the room, to think about what he had witnessed and to give him the choice to act upon it in the future.

Charles’ focus fell back to the man in his arms, content on soothing Loki for as long as he needed it.

Oh god, you went there. My feels are a bottomless pit for Cherik.

See my bottom notes for my rants about the songs and the feels I get from them.

Skinny Love - Bon Iver
Time - Paul Cardall
The Chain - Ingrid Michaelson
Who Knew - Pink
Everything is Gonna Be Alright - Joshua Radin

Skinny Love: The link leads to a short fic that pretty much explains my feels.

Time: Charles and Erik are timeless from the second they met one another. No amount of pain and hatred will keep them from caring about the other - even if it happens to be from opposite sides of a battlefield. There are so many verses in which Charles and Erik live in different lives and times and they still meet one another. They are more iconic than Superman and Lex Luthor, or Batman and Joker, because there is very little true animosity between them. They both understand their opinions differ, that their means to an end are vastly opposite of one another, but that won’t stop their friendship. To them, they are so desperate to hold onto each other that they are willing to completely ignore the carnage and hate surrounding them for just a little while and enjoy one another’s company like how it used to be. They don’t begrudge the other, they can’t bear to lose them by doing so, and that is one of the greatest bonds of all.

The Chain: This song is basically saying, “you left me. but if you come back, I will let you in.” which makes me think that this is basically Charles’ mentality for a long time. If Erik were to just come back and ask, Charles would welcome him with open arms - but Erik has never thought to do so. Yes, Erik fucked up, and so did  Charles. Charles is able to acknowledge that and move past it. He allows Erik into his home, just to spend time with him, even though Erik doesn’t try to actually come home. He doesn’t want any of Erik’s empty promises, or vague attempts at skirting around the issue, he doesn’t want Erik’s impromptu visits or foolish gifts. He just wants Erik.

Who Knew:  This one reminds me a lot of Erik. Charles was there for him when nobody else was, he was the best friend that Erik ever had, and he taught Erik so many things and made him so much stronger. However, Erik never realized that he had taken Charles for granted. Were Charles to die, Erik wouldn’t believe them - Charles has always been immortal in his eyes - and he would have such difficulty grasping on the idea that Charles is gone. Charles has always been there, since the day Erik met him. No matter where in the world Erik is, he knows he can go to the mansion and find Charles there, as always. Charles is the one constant in his life, he can’t die, it isn’t possible. It would take Erik a long time to really accept that fact, and when he finally did come to terms with it, he would be determined that it wasn’t the last he would see of Charles. Charles was far too much of a man to simply die. Whether there be an afterlife or reincarnation, Erik would know that he would see Charles again someday.

Everything is Gonna Be Alright: This song always struck me as the sort of mentality that Charles adopted in those first years after losing Erik and Raven. He realized that he couldn’t change what had happened, but they were alive, they were okay - even if he no longer had them at his side. Charles told himself every day he went through physical therapy, ‘everything is going to be fine. everything is okay, it’ll get better,’ and hope beyond hope that his words would ring true. He knows that he could call Erik, beg them to come home, or even find them somehow and just ask for forgiveness (despite the fact that Erik has as much fault as he) just to see his loved ones again. However, he knows he can’t force them, and so he sits at home and tells himself things will get better.

nieniekoto:

bunny!Cherik for Zimothy, who asked me to draw them, er, “with bunny ears and tails and maybe somewhat sexually provocative” which I tried to achieve, but with a cutesy style like mine, it’s a bit….OTL

Hope you like it!

I was intending to write something yesterday and then I got busy and lost inspiration /sob

but I’ll write a little somethin’ now…

“Are you eating all the chocolate?” Charles cried softly, his expression falling. Erik’s ears twitched and drooped the tiniest bit, licking guiltily at the chocolate staining his lips.

“You said sweets gave you a stomach ache….” he mumbled, licking at his index finger and then lifting the bowl of chocolate for Charles to take from. Charles’ face fell from its hurt look into one of hesitation, his fingers coming up to entangle with themselves as he fidgeted.

“Well, they do, but only if I eat too many.”

Erik scooted up against the wall he’d been leaning on, long legs stretching out before him as he patted his thigh. “Well, come have a few.”

Charles’ face lit up and he scrambled onto Erik’s lap, grinning and pressing their foreheads together, ears brushing while Erik brought a hand up on Charles’ hip to steady him.

“Just one or two, or four…” Charles said quietly, reaching into the bowl of chocolate eggs on Erik’s crotch and grabbing a few. Erik grinned, doing the same as they ate in silence.

“You’ve got some on your face,” Erik pointed out after a moment. Charles peered up from where he’d been licking bits of melted chocolate from his fingers and eeping when Erik leaned forward to kiss and then lick at the corner of his mouth before pulling away. His smile fell into a confused scowl, and this time he brought his thumb up to wipe the chocolate from Charles’ mouth. Charles grinned, wiggling his tail in amusement.

“You’ve got some on your face too, you know.” He informed Erik once his own face had been cleaned. Erik pulled his thumb back to suck on it, scowling.

“No I don’t. I don’t make a mess when I eat.”

Charles shook his head, pushing himself up so he could give Erik a quick peck before sucking on his upper lip and nibbling at it, humming happily at the small bit of chocolate attached to the action.

Erik shifted, moving the bowl of sweets from his lap and tugging on Charles’ hips to resettle him before reaching up to pull Charles down for a better kiss.

At first, Erik was little annoyed at the idea that Azazel had given him the wrong address - had it not been for the fact that a quick spell told Erik that yes, there was a life form somewhere inside the small London flat that he currently stood on the doorstep of. It took nearly ten full minutes before anyone answered the door, and Erik had to physically stop himself from recoiling in surprise at the sight before him.

He knew that Raven Darkholme’s half-brother was a muggle, and that he was the only person she trusted enough to delegate the job of being her Secret-Keeper on the day she went into hiding with a handful of others wizards and witches. What Erik didn’t know, was that Charles Xavier was apparently paralyzed from the waist down, and devastatingly handsome.

“Hello?” Xavier said, eyes bright and head tilted to the side with the tiniest pucker in his brow from a confused furrow. “Can I help you?”

Erik blinked, head shaking and lifting his wand. “I’m a friend of your sisters, I’ve come to see if you know where she is. She’s gone missing.”

Xavier’s hesitant grin fell from his face in a heartbeat. He shook his head, one hand clutching the rim of wheelchair as he started to close the door. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I’m not privy to that information,” he said tightly.

Erik reached forward, pressing his palm flat against the door. “I’m sorry, I do seem to have come across as a bit forward. My name is Max Eisenhardt. I’m from the German Wizarding Division, I came to help - they told me your sister was the person to see. Perhaps you can help me?” It wasn’t the best strategy, far from it - considering how impatient the Dark Lord had been getting recently - but Erik knew it was better to take longer for results than to come back empty handed.

Xavier continued to look wary, and so Erik held his wand out. “You can hold onto this, if you’d like,” it was an easily placating gesture to use with muggles who knew only the basics of magic - and who were never informed of the ‘accio’ charm.

Nibbling on his bottom lip, Xavier reached out and took Erik’s wand, peering down at the knot midway to the tip and tracing a finger over the crooked whorl that made it point upwards just the tiniest bit. “Dragon heartstring, mahogany…” Erik supplied, “If that helps?”

Xavier laughed, and set the wand on his lap so that he could roll his wheelchair back to allow Erik inside of his flat. “Not really, but I suppose I should put the kettle on, then?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” Erik mused, stepping over the threshold and shuddering at the sting of wards - wards negated through Xavier’s unspoken invitation into his home.  Xavier shut the door, flicking the lock and gesturing to the small sitting room.

“Make yourself comfortable then, Mr. Eisenhardt.” Xavier’s fingers were short, hands just shy of elegant with their wide palms and stubby nails. Erik wondered how they would feel like entwined with his own, and then dashed the thought immediately.

Pity he would have to die, really.