Q:Cherik and Logan/Charles Prompt: Competition Thank you! <3
Modern AU, ‘This Means War’ style!
Between the running, the stabbing and the punching (not to mention the dodging and firing of more than a few – okay hundreds - of bullets), Erik is certain that he’s heard the man wrong.
“What do you mean his name is Charles?” Erik grunts, shoving the Hydra lackey against the door before kneeing him hard in the solar plexus. “Charles Xavier? Professor of Genetics at Columbia? That Charles Xavier?”
Logan kicks the door open into the next room, slamming himself straight into the guard unlucky enough to be on the other side. “Yeah,” he pants, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he picks himself up off the unmoving body. “What? You know him?”
Erik snarls, biting a curse off the tip of his tongue. He takes a moment to switch his assault rifle to his handgun, before signaling Logan to move. “Sure I know him. I’m dating him. Asshole.”
Whatever he expected Logan’s response to be – surprise, anger, disbelief – it’s not this, a chuckle that slowly morphs into a roar of laughter. He continues laughing when three men burst into the room from the corner closest to their exit, letting Erik pick them off one by one as they crouch behind a rack of servers, the bullets whizzing by their heads. He’s still laughing when they clear the place and make a mad dash across the rooftop, where the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicopter has just landed for their pick-up.
“Man, I did not expect that,” Logan says, wiping tears – fucking tears – from his eyes as they climb onboard, all but flopping over from exhaustion and pain as the adrenaline starts to subside. “What’re the odds of you and me dating the same guy?”
What are the odds indeed? Erik doesn’t know how Logan would’ve had the opportunity to meet Charles, the two of them spending more time together on missions than they do with their own families. Erik himself only met Charles through his sister Raven, a newly minted agent that’s taken to following him around when not on assignments herself.
“How many dates have you been on?” he asks, dragging himself into seat across from Logan.
“I don’t know…three?”
Erik smirks. “We’ve been on four dates. And we’ve got another one Saturday night. He’s clearly more serious about me than he is about you.”
Logan quirks an eyebrow at him, pulling out a cigar from somewhere in his body armor (Erik has no idea where – calling their body armor ‘snug’ is an understatement). “Oh yeah? We’ve got a date tomorrow night, bub. And his lips say he’s serious enough ‘bout me.”
“You think he’s going to pick you?” Erik scoffs, grabbing a bottle of water from his kit and taking a long drink, ignoring Logan’s glare. “When he can choose me instead?”
There’s a glint in his partner’s eyes, the only warning he gets that Logan’s about to suggest something very stupid or something very dangerous to their wellbeing. The last time Erik saw that look the two of them barely jumped out of a speedboat in time before it exploded into a raging fireball.
“How about we make it a bet, Lehnsherr?” Logan says, an air of nonchalance that Erik doesn’t buy for a second. “We don’t tell him we know about each other and we let him choose. I don’t interfere with your dates and you don’t interfere with mine. You in?”
Erik snorts, leaning back with his hands behind his head and says, “And what do I get when I win, besides Charles?”
“Anything you want,” Logan answers, taking a puff of his cigar and giving Erik a grin from ear to ear. “And when I win, you gotta do whatever I tell you. Do we have a deal?”
He thinks back to his date with Charles last week; the way he smiled at Erik all through their dinner and listened with enthusiasm to all his fake work stories and gives Logan a sharp grin in return. “Yes. You’ve got yourself a deal.”
velvetcadence replied to your post “Charles overdoes it with cerebro and has the worst migraine ever and Erik takes care if him. Partly because that’s what I have right now and I really, really need some fluff since its only Monday”
gross sobs at old men in love
Right? RIGHT??? Like I can’t write fluff for young Cherik if it kills me, but old!Cherik makes me all smushy and gross with all these…tender feels. I don’t know maybe I secretly believe in happy endings, especially for two people who’ve spent a life time apart (cries a bucket of tears).
Erik is the mysterious, very attractive professor that that all the students have a crush on but they know nothing about him - not even his first name. So naturally they’re shocked when his twin five year olds burst into his classroom one day.
Everyone knows that Professor Lehnsherr is a stone cold fox. He is also known as the teacher who is most likely to engage in public humiliation and execution by failing grades, and so most students weigh out the pros and cons of taking his class very carefully.
Judging by the maximum capacity of “Intro to German Expressionism”, most students hold the merit of Professor Lehnsherr in a clinging turtleneck and tight trousers in very high esteem.
Average Lifespans in Mass Effect
- Avoiding death by disease, combat, Shepard...
- Vorcha: 20 years
- Salarians: 40 years
- Batarian: 80 years
- Drell: 85 years
- Volus: 85 years
- Humans: 150 years
- Turian: 150 years
- Elcor: 500 years
- Asari: 1,000 years
- Krogan: 1,000+ years
- Jenkins: 12 minutes
Exclusive: Watch ‘X-Men’ Writer Simon Kinberg Answer Questions About ‘Days of Future Past’ and the Coming ‘Apocalypse’
Q:Charles overdoes it with cerebro and has the worst migraine ever and Erik takes care if him. Partly because that's what I have right now and I really, really need some fluff since its only Monday
Oh no, I hope you feel better soon!
Here’s some fluffy old married Cherik - I hope you like it :D
“I’m fine, stop fussing.”
“You’re not fine, Charles. I can feel the damn thing throbbing in the back of my head.”
Erik floats the helmet gently off of Charles’ head, careful not to jostle him and aggravate his discomfort. It’s going to a particularly bad one, he notes, if Charles is too tired to bother shielding him from the dull ache, a mere echo of the intense pain he’s no doubt experiencing from overdoing it with Cerebro. Again.
I’ll be fine, Darling, Charles says, his voice infused with warm affection that’s only slightly strained. It’s been fifty years, I’ve learned to deal with the headaches.
Erik’s answer is a disgruntled ‘hmph’, a glower forming on his face so severe that it sends more than one student flying in the opposite direction as they slowly wind their way through the mansion to their bedroom. That Charles just leans back in the chair and lets him float it along beside him without comment is another testament to his exhaustion.
He’s going to have to have another talk with McCoy about these side effects; with all the man’s genius and all the advances in technology, he can’t believe the stupid thing still gives Charles migraines. Apparently he can upgrade its reach to cover the entire planet but can’t be bothered to—
Erik, Charles interrupts, reaching to squeeze his hand lightly before gripping the armrest again. Stop thinking so loudly about Hank. You’re making it worse.
Fine, he concedes, opening the door to their room and guiding Charles inside, setting him next to the bed as he makes his way into the adjoining bathroom. He runs a clean face cloth under cool water, squeezing the excess before returning to find Charles lying on the bed, arm thrown over his eyes. I’ll let it go for now, Erik continues, placing the cloth on Charles forehead with practiced ease. But this conversation isn’t over. And I’ll handle the next discussion about Cerebro upgrades with Hank.
Whatever you say, Darling, Charles sends, reaching to pull Erik down beside him. Thank you for doing this.
He doesn’t say ‘taking care of me’ though that’s what he means - because Erik doesn’t like to admit how much he needs this and Charles won’t admit how much he craves it.
“Can I get you a cup of tea?”
“No, I think I just need sleep.” Stay with me?
Sleep, Erik says, sliding his arm under Charles and pulling him close, letting Charles bury his head in his chest. Sleep and I’ll be here when you wake up.
I know, Charles answers, and Erik feels the feather like kiss on his brow, intimate and familiar. I know.
Q:Charles is moving out and his douche landlord insists on scheduling a viewing while Charles is still living there. So of course one morning Charles wakes up, mostly naked and hung over, to find is irate landlord coming in with a sharply-dressed, objectionably attractive stranger who doesn't look all that impressed by Charles's scholarly mess.
Erik arrived at the lobby of HF Village bright and early on Monday morning, coffee in one hand and briefcase in the other. Mr. Shaw was late, much to Erik’s annoyance. They had scheduled to meet at seven o’clock and it was nearly seven-twenty when the landlord finally hurried down the stairs, a vaguely apologetic smile on his lips.
“I’m sorry for the delay,” Shaw said, reaching out to shake Erik’s hand before realizing both Erik’s hands were full. Clasping his hands together instead, he added, “Shall we?”
As they went up the stairs, Erik said, “We’ll have to make this quick. I have a meeting at eight-thirty that I can’t miss.”
“Of course, of course. We’ll have you in and out in no time.”
Thanks everyone for sending in all those awesome prompts! I’m going to cut it off now and start working on them ASAP. Stay tuned! :D
The Blindest Date
black—betty said: CONGRATS!!!!!! For little fic prompts: Erik and Charles mistaken identity (one of them thinks the other is their blind date? Undercover associate? Spy contact? Cue attraction and shenanigans?)
Erik isn’t sure how Emma talked him into this blind date. Well, that’s not true; he knows full well that Emma didn’t talk him into anything, she just bowled him right over as usual. With friends like her, who needs enemies?
"I’ll tell him you’ll wear that green ascot you like despite your otherwise high intelligence," she said casually, typing in the password to access his schedule and block off Friday night. "He’ll wear green as well, he always does. He’s tall, has longish dark hair, witty, and just as screwed-up as you are. You’ll get along great and probably take over the world together."
What was the name? Erik racks his memory, but can’t bring it up. Something Scandinavian, maybe. Odinsson?
He pauses outside the door to the bar, adjusts his ascot in the glass. This is going to be a disaster, but at least he’s going into it looking his best.