#it’s quite interesting to try to mentally put together how Charles said they used to hate each other

[presdestigatto]

GUYS????????

Looking at the timestamps, this was one month before Max’s first f1 race, and they last karted together in 2012 3 years prior. I have so many questions, like, were they cool at this point of time? Clearly they were friendly enough for Max to joke like this, but you can also notice that Charles only replied to Esteban LOL

#lestappen #it’s quite interesting to try to mentally put together how Charles said they used to hate each other #but also their admissions that they talked a lot/things like this #like when did the hatred stop and when did they decide to grow up? #it also makes you realise that their rivalry was really played up for the cameras lol #imo this also plays into max’s tendency to pretend grievances simply don’t exist #like when he said he and charles were totally cool after austria 2019 even though we all saw the unfollowing #lastly: its wild how most of the grid are childhood friends/acquaintances #thank u to the person who rt-ed this onto my tl ❤️

[rainingpouringetc]

so hug all your friends and let them know you’re not letting go

ch 4 - sing me a song, tell me your thoughts / i could listen to you all night long (pt 2)

read on ao3

The next morning was quite pleasant for Ariadne. She woke to find Grace already in the dining room—unusual for the girl who usually preferred to flit about like a ghost. They had stayed up until midnight the previous night exchanging stories of their childhoods. Ariadne had missed thinking of India. She had told Alastair about it at his request, and at hers he’d spoken of Persia. This had been different from that, though. This had been less about the place itself and more the family she’d left behind. Grace had left family, too—or had family leave her. The feeling was familiar; it pooled in Ariadne’s gut when she was left alone with the thoughts. Having someone to pick them apart with helped.

The girls ate breakfast together, chatting aimlessly about the weather and the food and anything else they could think of. Mr. and Mrs. Bridgestock were, graciously, away for the week. There was some business they were tending to somewhere else in the country. Ariadne had long since stopped trying to make sense of her father’s trips.

They stumbled awkwardly into a brief discussion of the day’s plans, finding that neither of them had any designs beyond breakfast.

“Well,” Ariadne said carefully, “would you perhaps like to train with me today, then? I could use a partner.”

Grace seemed taken aback. “Oh! Well, sure, I suppose. I must admit,” she said sheepishly, looking down at her plate, “I have very little in the way of training. I’m not sure I could be of much help to you.”

Ariadne brightened immediately. “Of course you can! I could teach you, if you like. I always thought the best way to practice something you already know is by teaching it to somebody else.”

“I agree,” Grace said with a smile.

They agreed to meet in the drawing room after changing into gear. Grace was surprisingly quick to go up the stairs, though she never lost that elegant smoothness in her stride. Ariadne lingered a moment in the dining room, her heart thumping painfully.

There were many thoughts going through her head, bumping into each other and leaving little space for much else. She barely knew Grace, and here she was offering to train her. Their friendship—if it could be called that—was moving awfully fast. Though, things had moved rather fast with Alastair as well. Perhaps they were all so starved for friendship that they were wiling to try to bond with anyone who showed the barest speck of interest.

That wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, after all.

Ariadne sighed and wished Alastair was there. He was better at this than she was, though one may not think it. If Alastair liked someone, or thought he did at least, he could keep a conversation going well enough. Ariadne had always struggled with small talk—it seemed so frivolous and unnecessary. She hoped Grace would feel the same.

When she and Alastair had first started testing their friendship, Ariadne had relied heavily on him to guide the conversation. He’d wanted to know about Anna, and she’d told him—then he’d told her about Charles before she could figure out if she was supposed to ask. He’d also mentioned Thomas vaguely, though how exactly he felt for the man hadn’t come out until much later.

Ariadne smiled fondly at the memories as she ascended the stairs and looked for her gear. Alastair was, surprisingly, a bit of a mess when it came to Thomas Lightwood. Usually so calm and collected, he stumbled over his words when he tried to explain what it was like falling for someone who hated him so thoroughly. It’s not as though it could ever work, anyway, Alastair had said with false casualness. I doubt Thomas is even interested in men.

Only one way to find out, she’d teased. It had earned her a pillow in the face, but it had certainly been worth it.

As she carefully slipped into her gear, she wondered, not for the first time, if perhaps this was what having a sibling was like. She and Alastair got on so well, it was almost a shock whenever she remembered they hadn’t really known each other all that well until a month ago.

A knock startled the memories from her grasp. She finished buckling all that need buckling and opened the door to find a sheepish Grace still in her morning dress. “I’m sorry to bother,” she said before Ariadne could so much as draw breath, “it’s just I’ve realized I don’t actually have any gear.”

Ariadne frowned. It had been quite a few minutes since Grace had disappeared upstairs—what had she been doing all this time?

Seeming to read the question on her face, Grace glanced at her hands and said, “I’d have said something sooner, it’s just… I’m sorry. I didn’t not want you to think less of me as a Shadowhunter.”

Most people did, Ariadne was coming to realize. 

She smiled as gently as she could and held open her door, gesturing for Grace to follow as she strode to the closet. “I’m sure I have some old gear that will fit you.” Grace was a few inches shorter than her, but sure enough, there was some gear she’d outgrown when she was fourteen at the very back. Ariadne pulled it out and handed it to Grace. “Do you need any help with it?” she asked.

Grace shook her head quickly. “No. Thank you for offering. I have worn it before, I simply have none of my own.”

“Well, now you do,” Ariadne said, indicating the gear in Grace’s hands.

Grace smiled, and it made her look much prettier, Ariadne thought. This was quite a feat, seeing as how she was already quite gorgeous. It was as though it thawed something in Grace’s features, making her seem warm and kind. Ariadne decided to make it a priority to make Grace smile more.

After Grace changed, they headed outside. Ariadne was increasingly excited about the prospect of training Grace.

She figured they could start with fighting stances, then move on to hand-to-hand, then staffs. 

Grace was surprisingly competent about stances and hand-to-hand for what little experience she’d claimed to have. They were able to move on from instruction quickly enough and begin sparring. Neither of them could quite get the advantage, Ariadne because she was holding back to spare Grace’s feelings, and Grace because she simply had no real experience. 

Eventually, Ariadne managed to hook her foot behind Grace’s knee and pull, causing her to fall flat on her back. Unfortunately, this put Grace in the prime position to grab Ariadne’s legs and bring her down as well. They collapsed on top of each other in a fit of giggles. 

“Truce?” Grace gasped, struggling to keep her composure as she struggled to a sitting position. She extended her hand.

Ariadne eyed it from where she was propped up on her elbows, then grasped it and shook solidly. “Truce.”

They giggled again, helped each other stand, and began brushing themselves off. There was a fair amount of dirt and grass stains on Grace’s gear; Ariadne made a mental note to help her clean it off later. 

“Pardon me, Miss Bridgestock,” came a soft, motherly voice from the house door. Ariadne turned to find their maid, Mrs. Webster, watching them with a smile. Her dark hair was streaked with gray—Ariadne wondered when that had happened. She could’ve sworn it hadn’t been that way earlier this year. “I don’t mean to interrupt, miss, but there’s a young man by the name Mr. Carstairs here to see you. He’s waiting in the drawing room whenever you finish.”

“Oh.” It was all she could say. She turned to find Grace’s face had gone cold again. “Do you mind wrapping up for the day?”

Grace looked at her with steely eyes. “That’s fine. I’ll be upstairs.”

“Oh. All right. Er—let me know if you need anything, then.” Before she had even finished speaking, Grace was turning on her heel and pushing past Mrs. Webster.

Confused and greatly disheartened by the sudden loss of all the progress she’d made with Grace, Ariadne followed the maid inside and began walking toward the drawing room. She was stopped by a hand gripping her shoulder and spun around sharply to find Mrs. Webster staring at her with what could only be described as horror. “Miss Bridgestock, you are not truly going to entertain company in your fighting gear, are you?”

Ariadne blinked at her and let out a laugh. “It’s just Alastair, Mrs. Webster.”

“Ohhh, just Alastair, is it?” Mrs. Webster’s next look was far too knowing for Ariadne’s liking.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” she said lightly. “He’s a friend. He probably just wants to talk for a bit, he won’t mind if I’m not dressed properly.”

“Your parents would mind,” Mrs. Webster replies meaningfully. “Especially after that whole ordeal with Mr. Fairchild and Miss Blackthorn—please, dear.” She gripped Ariadne’s arm. “For my peace of mind.”

It was a fair argument. Ariadne still had some semblance of a reputation to maintain. Figuring she might as well humor the old woman, Ariadne let out a sigh and headed toward the stairs. It took her several annoyingly long minutes to change out of her gear and find a suitable dress, and by the time she finished, she’d almost forgotten about Grace.

That was, until she stepped out of her room and found Grace glaring at her by the staircase, dressed in a dazzling display of lilac and silver. “I wish to speak to Alastair with you,” she said simply, then turned so fast her hair splayed out behind her and descended the stairs soundlessly as ever.

Ariadne followed, swallowing heavily and wondering what she was getting herself into. 

Alastair was standing already when they entered the room, examining the various paintings they had hanging on the walls. There was a jacket on the couch, which was odd—it wasn’t one that looked like it belonged to Alastair. He turned and, upon seeing Ariadne, did that thing where he very nearly smiled—his face relaxed and the corners of his mouth, rather than pointing down at an alarming angle, evened out into a straight line.

Then he caught sight of Grace, and his jaw tensed again. “Good morning Ariadne, Miss Blackthorn,” he nodded politely. His eyes lingered on Grace for a moment before he shot a displeased look at Ariadne. She shrugged, eyes wide, and gestured to the settee.

Alastair sat on the end farthest from the armchair Grace was occupying, gathering the strange jacket into his arms, leaving Ariadne to sigh irritatedly and sit in the middle of them to mediate. 

“How are you this morning, Alastair?” Ariadne asked blandly.

“Fine. Thank you.”

There was silence for a long moment.

Ariadne was about to comment on the weather—really, she should not have been allowed to ever attempt anything resembling small talk—when Alastair glanced and Grace, then back at her, and said, “Pardon me if this is out of line, but I had been hoping to discuss something privately with you, Ariadne. If this is a bad time, I can come by in the afternoon.”

He made to stand, but before he could, Grace interrupted, “Are you doing anything today, Mr. Carstairs?”

He looked stunned, the lowered himself back onto the couch. “Well, that’s actually what I wished to discuss with Ariadne. I did not want to be rude in excluding anyone from the conversation.”

Ariadne nearly winced at his tone. It was clear he had not wanted to include Grace in whatever he had planned.

“Just tell me,” she whispered. When Alastair glanced over her shoulder at Grace, she said, “It’s fine.”

Alastair sighed through nose and held up the jacket. “I ran into Christopher Lightwood last night.” A dozen questions raced through Ariadne’s head—where? when? why?—but before she could voice any of them, he was saying, “It’s a long story for another time, but I ended up with this—” he shook the jacket “—and I don’t know what to do.”

“The jacket is Christopher’s?” Ariadne questioned first.

“Thomas’s,” he corrected quietly.

Ariadne sucked in a breath and nodded in understanding. That would explain it, then.

“You should return it, then,” Grace said slowly. Alastair’s eyes slid over to hers blankly. “I could help, if you wish,” she continued, sitting up straighter. “Be a distraction. The Merry Thieves are far more cross with me than they are with you, I suspect.”

Ariadne looked between the two, waiting. After a few seconds, Alastair’s face softened again, and the corner of his mouth twitched up. “I would appreciate that. Thank you, Miss Blackthorn.”

“Please, Mr. Carstairs, call me Grace.”

Alastair narrowed his eyes even as he smiled. “Well. Then you must call me Alastair.”

Grace smiled fully, then, the warm smile from early that morning. Ariadne understood suddenly why the coldness had crept back when Mrs. Webster had announced Alastair’s arrival. She hadn’t wanted to be shut out by their friendship. The best solution, clearly, was to bring her into it, then.

“When do we leave?” Ariadne asked with an air of adventure, standing with her hands on her hips and looking between the two.

Alastair shrugged. “Now?”

They looked at Grace, who nodded, grinning. “Now.”

*hides* i’m sorry this took so long lol. pls tell me ur thoughts on mrs webster :) (more christopher to come i promise)

tagging @ohcoolnice @stxr-thxif @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @eugeniaslongsword @clockworknights @writeforjordelia @axoloteca @ninacarstairss @lifewouldbebetteronmars lmk if i forgot you or if you’d like to be added or if you want to be removed, i’m so disorganized at this point lol

#tlh #the last hours #tlh fanfic #ariadne bridgestock #kamala joshi #grace blackthorn #alastair carstairs #artie tries to write #shayf fic #this is unedited be nice to me

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Epilogue

AO3

Taglist: @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

Previous Chapter: Chapter 35

This is the epilogue and final chapter. While there are some loose ends and I might write a sequel one day, I have currently have no plans for one so it would take some time. As it is I'm working on a Frozen TLH story (chapter 1-3 are currently published), and one post CoI story titled "We bury the sunlight" so look out for those.

Alastair decided to move in with Jem at the end of the summer. He had managed to finish decorating his bedroom just in time for the first week of university, which he was excited about starting. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d expected Jem to be overbearing and constantly worrying about his mental health. He’d always thought that was what a psychiatrist did, he guessed, just like his father had always feared Jem would know about his alcoholism from just looking at him.

He’d learnt that wasn’t the case. Jem was a doctor, he couldn’t read minds, and although he was there for Alastair when he needed him, he was family and not his doctor, which was an important distinction. Jem gave him lots of space, and the ground rules were mainly about keeping everything clean, which was no problem. Jem also preferred it to know if someone he didn’t know was visiting, but that rarely happened since Alastair only had a few friends and the only one who hadn’t known Jem before was Kamala.

It was nice, having so much space to himself. Jem had changed a lot about the house, it didn’t look like an exact copy of the house he’d lived in when he was very young. Cordelia and his mother still lived with Risa, with him gone it fit a bit better, but they were in the process of getting the house back.

He saw Thomas regularly, and they had sleep overs once a week. Alastair had bought a new double bed for his room mainly so they could share the bed. Thomas was currently adapting to student life, but had vowed to Alastair that he would not drink any alcohol. Alastair worried that would severely limit Thomas’ social life, but secretly he was very happy Thomas would do that for him. Lucie had also decided they would all start playing DnD with her, and although Alastair still didn’t understand much of the game, they had fun. Thomas, who had been in Lucie’s previous campaign as well, had helped him with his character. Right now, the group consisted of Lucie as the story teller, or dungeon master as the game called it, and Thomas, Cordelia, Kamala, Eugenia and him as the players. Alastair played a warlock, which he felt suited him. Warlocks also got nightmares they never asked for all the time and were constantly exhausted, not to mention they made deals with otherworldly beings. Perhaps it fit a little too well.

He’d also decided to take lessons in ballroom dancing, with Kamala as his dance partner at the student dance association. He almost had something that resembled a social life, which was both very new and very weird. As it was, they both were quite good at dancing. Kamala had taken two years of dance classes too, although it had been years, and together they could figure out what they remembered and how to do it. Both had been forced by their father at the time and it was much more enjoyable now that they’d chosen to pick it up again, not to mention it was nice having a dance partner he matched well with.

Thomas was still considering starting dancing, but finding a partner who was tall enough for him would be a struggle. Alastair could follow decently and dance with Thomas, although he still noticed the height difference, but with the lack of men in dancing most teachers would rather pair Thomas with the tallest girl available.

He felt like for the first time in years, he was sort of happy? Happier than he used to be at least. He still had nightmares, flashbacks, all that, and didn’t think it was going away anytime soon. If anything, EMDR made it harder, but that was to be expected. He’d known that during EMDR he’d have to talk about everything, and although in time that would make it better, at first it just brought everything to the surface. He’d learnt not to plan anything else on days he had EMDR, except maybe cuddling with Thomas.

Although relationships were still new to him, any relationships really, he was getting more accustomed to having people around who cared about him. Not just Thomas, but Lucie and Cordelia, who had just started their last year of school and came to him for help with their math homework, Kamala and Eugenia, who he’d been spending time with at the dance studio. He often visited the Lightwoods too, and he felt welcome there. Gideon and Sophie had made a habit out of inviting him along with any family outings. He’d never felt so welcome before, it had taken some time to work through that.

‘You’re going to love my gift, I promise.’

Tomorrow was Alastair’s nineteenth birthday, and Thomas was sleeping over the night before.

‘What is it?’ Alastair asked.

‘A surprise.’

‘It was worth a try,’ Alastair said. ‘How was your visit at Matthew today?’

Alastair had spoken to Matthew once. He didn’t think the two of them would ever be good friends, but they could move past school and tolerate each other’s presence. Thomas had spent the day with him today, shopping. Matthew apparently loved clothes even more than Alastair did, and had an unusual and extravagant taste.

‘Awkward,’ Thomas said.

Alastair frowned. ‘Why was it awkward?’

‘Well, he’s the only other man I know who is interested in men and has previous, uh, experience. So I figured I’d ask what to expect and what to do. It was a very uncomfortable conversation.’

Alastair started laughing. ‘You could have just asked me.’

‘I know, but I thought it would be nicer for you if I had some idea of what I’m supposed to be doing,’ Thomas said.

Alastair put his hand in Thomas’ hair. ‘That’s sweet.’

‘From now on I’ll be asking you my questions,’ Thomas said. ‘Of course, the internet has also been helpful.’

‘As long as you know where to get your information,’ Alastair said. ‘Porn isn’t real and not a good source. But I don’t mind if there’s things you don’t know yet, because I know enough.’

They had sex for the first time that night. Alastair felt it was the right time. Of course, having sex the night before his birthday wasn’t new to him. The previous years he’d spend with Charles ever since he’d turned sixteen. It was far better with Thomas. Not because of experience or anything like that, but because Alastair felt comfortable, because he was absolutely sure he wanted it and felt like he could ask Thomas to stop if he wasn’t comfortable anymore. Thomas was a little clumsy, but Alastair didn’t mind. He would get better at it with some practice.

The next morning, they went to the Victoria and Albert museum. It was early on a week day and neither of them had classes today. Thomas had been surprised at first by how empty his schedule was but had ultimately discovered much of his free time was spent on assignments and preparing for lectures and classes. Fortunately, it did mean they could easily plan such trips on times it wouldn’t be crowded. Alastair still didn’t like crowds and didn’t think he ever would. Thomas had grown over his fear of them, but he also preferred the quiet. It was much nicer this way, taking his time to let a piece of art wash over him, undisturbed by other visitors. Thomas made the occasional comment. He’d taken art history in school and could name the different styles and put works in the context of the time period. Alastair didn’t say much in response, just nodded. He felt he didn’t have to.

Thomas had promised him his gift after coming back from the museum, and Alastair was starting to get curious. Thomas had hidden the gift somewhere in Jem’s house, so Alastair wouldn’t even be able to guess from the shape. He hadn’t bothered to look for it, but had been tempted. As much as he liked the small smile on Thomas’ lips as he said ‘not yet, mi Cielo,’ Alastair was not fond of surprises. He liked to know what to expect with a three to five workdays advance notice for anything out of the usual.

‘You’d think no one has ever given you a birthday gift before,’ Thomas said. He paused. ‘Wait, is that it? Did you not usually receive gifts?’

‘No, I did, from my mother and sometimes Cordelia.’

Charles too, Charles had had a habit of giving him expensive gifts. Or gifts he’d found among his mother’s things, he guessed. Alastair had not seen him again now that he was back in London, for which he was grateful. Gideon had spoken with Charles and told him he knew what he’d done and wasn’t welcome at his house anymore. Apparently Charles had been very angry about that, but Gideon had told Alastair he was welcome anytime and it was his responsibility to guarantee his safety. Alastair appreciated that.

‘Have you been asking them about it all this time too?’ Thomas asked.

‘No just you. But you made a big deal out of it by hiding it someplace here,’ Alastair said.

‘Alright, I guess you can open it,’ Thomas said, who left and came back to the living room carrying a very big box.

Alastair carefully opened the wrapping paper, making sure nothing tore. He wasn’t sure why exactly, but he’d always opened gifts this way, as if he intended to reuse the paper, something he’d never done.

‘I thought, with how impatient you were, you’d rip it all apart,’ Thomas said.

‘No,’ Alastair said.

‘You can rip it, it’s no problem,’ Thomas said as Alastair was struggling to get a piece of sticky tape off without damaging anything.

‘No,’ Alastair said, even more determined to get everything off properly.

Once he’d gotten it open and folded away the colorful wrapping paper, Alastair revealed something that resembled a hamster cage, but bigger. There were two floors, the top open and the bottom offering a little more darkness with a little home in there an animal could hide in. There was a wheel, several balls, and a little hedgehog plushie.

‘I know you were planning to get a pet hedgehog, so I researched what it needs. This has most things it needs to live in, you just might need to add a heat lamp because hedgehogs need a warm environment.’

‘I’d been looking into what I’d need too,’ Alastair said. ‘Jem is alright with me getting a hedgehog as long as I make sure to keep Church away from him. That shouldn’t be a problem, as I would put the hedgehog in my bedroom and Church doesn’t go there.’

‘How is Church?’ Thomas asked.

‘Usually, he is wherever I’m not. He doesn’t come into my bedroom. In the living room it can be a bit more of a struggle, as he likes to claim his space, and no matter where I sit, he gets upset because that’s the spot he wanted for himself. The only moment he tolerates me is when I’m accompanying Jem on the piano.’

Alastair had picked up playing music again after years and he tried to practice for half an hour daily. Sometimes with Thomas, singing his songs and playing more modern music. But he also played classical music with Jem, who was exceptional at the violin. Jem could probably have been a concert violinist if he hadn’t chosen to become a doctor instead.

‘Sounds like Church,’ Thomas said. ‘He won’t be a danger to your hedgehog, will he?’

‘I will keep my hedgehog in my bedroom,’ Alastair said. ‘If I make sure to keep the door closed when I’m not there, I think it’s unlikely Church will even go there. Even then there’s a cover for this hedgehog home and a little house for him to hide, and of course a hedgehog can roll into a little ball of quills. I think it’ll be fine. And my therapist thought it might be good for me to get a pet, as long as I am confident I can care for it of course. Now, can you help me think of a name? I’m not great with names.’

‘You and Cordelia have been arguing about baby names for weeks now,’ Thomas pointed out.

‘Yes, the baby should have a beautiful Persian name,’ Alastair said. ‘For pets it’s different.’

‘Or dnd characters,’ Thomas added.

‘So what if my character has my middle name?’

‘No, I like it,’ Thomas said. ‘Esfandiyar. It’s a beautiful name. For a pet I think a shorter name is better. I think your plushie hedgehog is called Mr. Prickly?’

‘I named him when I was a child,’ Alastair said. ‘I’m not naming my pet something stupid.’

‘No little pipsqueak?’ Thomas said with a grin.

Alastair rolled his eyes. ‘Absolutely not.’

***

‘You mean to say you forgot to buy Alastair a gift for his birthday?’ Lucie asked.

‘I didn’t forget,’ Cordelia said. ‘I planned to do it today, after school. How was I supposed to know I was going to get detention?’

They entered the bookstore, certain she could find something Alastair would like here.

‘Sorry I couldn’t get you out,’ Lucie said. ‘Even my dad can’t do that, but he knows it was completely unfair.’

Cordelia shrugged. ‘I finished my homework. But I’m still pissed.’

She knew teachers tended to be harsher on her, Alastair had always had the same problem, and she usually made a point to behave but she also wasn’t going to let people just walk over her girlfriend. So what if she’d gotten into a fight with a bully? He’d started it, but that’s not how the teacher who’d broken them apart saw it.

‘Alastair will understand,’ Cordelia added. ‘He was often sent to detention unfairly too. Now, which of these books do you think he’ll like?’

‘Both seem pretty good,’ Lucie said. ‘What are they about?’

‘This one’s called Malice, and is a Sleeping Beauty retelling focused on Alyce, the dark grace with powers similar to the original evil witch who cursed the princesses, and she might be the villain but she might also fall in love with Aurora. I haven’t read it, but it sounds awesome. The other is Girl, Serpent, Thorn.’

‘Oh, didn’t I lend you that one last year?’

‘Yes,’ Cordelia said. ‘It was awesome and the cover is so beautiful I wanted my own copy. I think Alastair will like it too, the world is inspired by Persian culture and the Shahnameh, which he loves, and the story is very good too.’

Girl, Serpent, Thorn was probably one of her favorite books, and Cordelia ultimately decided to buy it for herself while buying Malice for Alastair. He could always borrow the other book from her, she just wanted to reread it several times and have the gorgeous cover on display.

‘I doubt Alastair minds we’re late,’ Cordelia said. ‘He’s been spending the day with Thomas.’

Cordelia sometimes envied the amount of free time Alastair had compared to her. She hoped it would be the same once she went to university. Of course, Alastair had his memory, he only had to read everything once and he would remember forever. He could save so much time that way.

It still struck her as odd how they didn’t understand Alastair’s memory. Lucie was the way she was because her grandfather was the thief of souls. Same for Tessa, who’d gotten some of her power back after his death. Thomas had the sight because his mother did, and Kamala had healing powers because a fairy had given them to her. But no one knew why Alastair was the way he was. Cordelia knew it still frustrated him, not understanding.

‘I can’t wait until I can go to university,’ Lucie said. ‘I am so done with physics.’

‘Why did you take physics?’ Cordelia asked.

‘No clue,’ Lucie said. ‘I’ll survive another year. Then it’s English literature and creative writing.’

Cordelia wished she knew what she was going to study. Half her biology class was already working on their med school applications, but Cordelia had no clue yet. At least she couldn’t really picture herself as a doctor. Part of her still wanted to be a hero, but what if like Jem she decided to retire early? Being a hero didn’t exactly pay, and it was good to have some education. She just didn’t know what. She knew, of course, it was fine to choose wrong at first. Alastair had realized being a politician wasn’t for him, and was again starting in his first year.

‘At least Alastair promised to help me with my math homework,’ Cordelia said.

Cordelia and Lucie took the metro and arrived at Jem’s house. She’d been here frequently since the summer, and it already felt like Alastair’s house. She’d considered moving in herself too, but felt like she was still too young to move away from her mother and would rather stay for now.

Alastair and Thomas were in the living room, where an animal home was standing on the table next to a bit of neatly folded wrapping paper, not a tear in sight. Alastair had always been a little obsessive in the way he opened gifts. The wrapping paper would be thrown away, yet he always opened it with such a care and he never ripped anything.

‘Happy birthday,’ she said, hugging her brother.

He’d grown more comfortable with physical affection lately, and for Cordelia it felt like it had become easier to reach him. She’d had to get used to not living in the same house as him at first, but Alastair seemed happier here.

‘Thank you,’ Alastair said. ‘I’m officially on the waiting list for a pet hedgehog. It might take some time, but I have some of the supplies I need now. I am open to name suggestions as I have not thought of anything yet.’

‘Pipsqueak!’ Lucie called out.

‘Oddly, you’re not the first person to suggest that,’ Alastair said. ‘No, I am not naming my pet Pipsqueak.’

‘That’s because I already call Alastair that,’ Thomas said.

Alastair rolled his eyes. ‘My hedgehog will have a serious name, not something a toddler would have chosen.’

They didn’t settle on a name yet that evening. Lucie kept suggesting the kind of names Alastair meant to avoid as a joke, and Eugenia did the same when she and Kamala arrived. Kamala had a few good suggestions, and Alastair decided to look into Persian pet names.

Cordelia started feeling like things would be alright again, like things would be normal. Of course, she could never be sure. Tatiana had not turned up again, Gideon had reported her missing and so far the police had no leads. Cordelia didn’t think they’d find her, and she wondered if Tatiana would come back. There was no chance she could bring back her son, not anymore, but Cordelia feared she might want revenge. Right now, she tried not to worry. She would be prepared, yes, but she would also continue to live her life, go to school, worry about things normal girls her age should be worried about. Alastair seemed to be doing a little better as well, although she knew his EMDR days were hard. He was playing music again, and Cordelia loved to listen to him play the piano while she was here.

‘Do you want to play something?’ Cordelia asked at some point, gesturing to the piano.

‘Of course,’ Alastair said. ‘Thomas, I need your help.’

‘I didn’t bring my guitar,’ Thomas said nervously.

‘I don’t need you to play, I need you to turn the page of the sheet music. One of these days I’m going to make a copy and tape this piece together, but it’s 5 pages long.’

Cordelia would always be impressed at how fast Alastair could move his fingers over the keys. He’d tried to teach her when she was younger and she could play some simple melodies with her right hand only, but she’d never gotten the hang of playing with two hands.

‘I recognize this,’ Lucie said when Alastair was finished. ‘I think it’s in Pride and Prejudice. The one with Colin Firth.’

‘That’s possible, it’s well known. The Turkish March by Mozart,’ Alastair said. ‘I’ve been practicing this for the past week.’

‘It’s lovely,’ Cordelia said. ‘I missed hearing you play.’

‘And now you only get to listen when you’re here,’ Alastair said apologetically.

‘I’m here several days a week anyway,’ Cordelia said. ‘I’m glad you’re playing again.’

‘I forgot how much I loved it,’ Alastair said. ‘But I’m happy too. Even Church likes it when I play.’

Cordelia noticed the cat was sitting up from his spot on the couch, listening intently as Alastair started playing something else. Church might hate everyone and everything, but he loved Jem and he loved music.

Thomas continued to do his job as page turner and Cordelia could see the adoration in his eyes as he watched Alastair play. She was glad they’d been able to work it out and were still together, Alastair deserved that.

When Alastair was finished, Lucie decided to present her gift, which was a story she’d written herself in an insanely short time. Cordelia had read it and helped her edit, but the premise was that it was Frozen but with Alastair and Cordelia as the main characters.

‘I’m going to read it as soon as I have the time,’ Alastair promised. ‘This sounds brilliant.’

#Alastair Carstairs #Thomas Lightwood #Cordelia Carstairs #Lucie Herondale #Thomastair #Lucelia #the last hours #tlh #fanfiction #epilogue

[starfanatic]

Me analyzing every scene with Charles and Erik in First Class.

Charles and Erik's experiences

Now in the beginning of the movie, Charles and Erik don't have a scene together but it compares their lives, side by side, and in a way explains why they are so different from one another.

Even as kids there is some clear differences:

The first mutant Erik ever met was Shaw. A nazi who murdered the only person who loved him. Then Shaw experimented and tortured him until Erik inevitably broke out. Shaw made Erik believes his power can only be unlocked through pain and anger. The first mutant Charles ever met is Raven. Raven and Charles became close, basically becoming siblings. Charles was never alone, he had Raven and vice versa.

At such a young age, Charles knew how to use his power efficiently, without needing to be angry to do it. Erik however only could do it (at that age when he's in extremely stressful situations).

Now as adults there is still big differences:

When we first meet Charles he's at a bar, flirting with a woman. It's clear he's very intelligent and talks about mutations. Then in the next scene, hes celebrating after his graduation. This is a good time in Charles' life. Erik however is still plotting revenge against Shaw, hurting people for information or straight up murdering them.

Something I noticed is that Charles seem to have a lot of positive interactions with humans, like Moira for example while Erik seems to only have negative interactions with them.

Erik’s power is naturally more destructive then Charles. Charles can communicate with people and understand their emotions and feelings. Erik destroys the environment around him, to do whatever he’s going to do.

Drowning Scene

Let's talk about Erik's mental state in this scene. He is pumped with adrenaline and anger. The man who made his life a living hell is escaping and he needs to stop and make him pay for what he has done. So he desperately tries to bring the submarine back, and he was going to do it or die trying. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for Erik, who has been wanting revenge against Shaw since the day he killed his mother. Its symbolic, because in a way he's drowning in his own hate and anger. His hate and anger is what almost killed him. Then Charles jumps in to save him. This is the first time someone wanted to genuinely help him since his mother. Charles was willing to jump in ice cold water just to save him. Immediately Charles knew what Erik has gone through, and as usual he wants to help him. Erik says "I thought I was alone" and he was. I don't think he was only talking about just mutants, but just being alone in general. And then Charles responds with "You are not alone". This can symbolize Charles saving Erik from drowning in his own anger and revenge. He thought he was by himself until Charles came in.

Note: There is multiple times where the main character jumps into the water to save their love interest from drowning. Think about the Little Mermaid where Ariel stopped... Eric from drowning. Think about Wonder Woman, where Diana jumped in the water to save Steve. Just saying....

"Surprised you've managed to stay this long"

This scene basically speaks on it's own so I don't have a lot to say here. But first, Charles was already outside before Erik left. I'm not sure why he was outside in the first place or if he was expecting Erik to leave and catch him on the way out. But Charles is literally the first person (i'm going to assume) that actually cares if Erik leaves. He wants Erik to stay because he cares about him, knows him and what he's gone through, and desperately want to help him. When Charles offers his help, Erik scoffs thinking its a completely ridiculous idea that he can be saved. But instead of saying that he says "I don't need your help". Well... we all know that's a lie. Erik is so used to being alone and working for himself, it's a foreign feeling to be around people who don't want to hurt him. This also can symbolize that despite Erik appearing to want to be alone, Charles won't let him. Then Charles says "I won't stop you from leaving. I could, but i won't" Unlike probably everyone Erik ever encountered in his life, Charles gives him a choice. He treats him like a person (fuck you Shaw).

Cerebro

When Erik walks in the room, Charles is surprised but visibly happy to see Erik. Then Erik says that mutants should be found by its own people, no suits. Charles looks at him for a minute and agrees with him. I’m not sure Charles thought about that in that very moment but listened when given the suggestion. Erik gives Charles a look that also shows visible happiness. They are just so damn happy to be with each other it’s adorable. Then they exchange witty banter. As I said before, A D O R A B L E.

Road Trip

This is the time Erik and Charles bond together even more.I don’t have much to say on the montage besides... it’s nice to see those two bond together and have fun.

Realist vs Optimist

Erik and Charles are playing chess together and Charles starts talking about how he will be able to help the mutants out there. How they can do it together. However Erik points out how they might not be able to. Once the government doesn’t need them, they will discard them or experiment on them.

I would call Erik a pessimist but that’s not entirely true. He’s not thinking the worse of ever situation he’s being realistic. The government would be scared of their power and once they don’t need them, they will try to get rid of them. He’s not even wrong at the end. Another scene is another one where they are playing chess. It seems whenever they start playing chess they start debating. Charles being the optimist, seeing the good in humans while Erik being the realist (but close to the optimist) by seeing the obvious evil humans have in them.

Russia

Something to point out, when dealing with the Russians, Charles tries to deal with them in the least violent way possible. When Erik deals with the Russians, he’s more violent, attacking them directly.

When Erik starts to lose control, Charles stop him. That seems to happen quite often in this movie. Charles is basically Erik’s restraint.

“Brightest Memory in Your Memory Bank” (aka the best Cherik scene ever)

Charles doesn’t want to shoot Erik (Guns probably make him nervous and the possibility of Erik not saving himself in time is scary.) So Charles pushes Erik more. Erik explains how he needs a specific situation, the anger, to be able to move something that big. That’s what he’s been told his whole life but Charles knows that’s not true. Charles contradicts everything that Shaw is, everything that Shaw believes in and says. He knows that there is more power Erik has, that Erik is just not aware of yet.

When you think about it, Charles is the serenity to Erik’s rage. Charles gave the serenity that Erik needed by unlocking a memory, Erik doesn’t even know he had. It’s such a beautiful moment that it brings both Charles and Erik to tears. This is the moment Charles and Erik truly connect completely. Charles understands a part of Erik nobody ever has since his mother.

Then Erik tries again and he succeeds. Both of them laughing in joy, Erik for being able to do it and Charles for being genuinely joyed that Erik succeeded.

Cuba Beach Divorce

This is the moment when things start becoming dark between them. While Shaw was talking to Erik, he managed to basically do the opposite of what Charles was trying to do for Erik. Bringing back his trauma and pain. Making him believe he was a weapon, instead of a person. When he put the helmet on, that symbolizes the disconnect he now had with Charles. Charles main power is communicating with people between minds. Erik putting on the anti-telepathy helmet symbolized the communication they no longer had with each other. Sure they can still speak to each other, but Erik is no longer listening to Charles. He no longer has serenity, only rage. When Erik slowly puts the coin through Shaw’s head, he makes Charles endure through the same pain. Symbolically showing that Erik’s revenge only caused Charles pain and the destruction of the beautiful relationship they had.

As Erik expected, the humans banded together to destroy a race they feel threatened by. Erik attempts to send them back the missles they intended to use to blow them up, but then Charles tries to stop him.

There is multiple times throughout the movie that Charles stops Erik from doing something and Erik stops, relunctantly, but he does. But now there relationship is strained and broken. When Charles tries to stop him he fails, Erik continues to do it, even hurting Charles to do it, until...

The bullet Erik deflected shot Charles in the back. When people usually say “shot in the back” or “stabbed in the back” it usually means betrayal. In Charles’ mind, Erik probably did betray him. Charles will do anything to protect people, even at the cost of hurting HIMSELF. Erik seems to constantly hurt the people around him, no matter how much he loves them.

The whole speech they have with each other is self-explanatory but their eyes show so much pain. They obviously don’t want to let each other go, but they are simply too different.

Erik holds a special type of pain, because he hurt the first man who genuinely loved and cared about him since his mother. The man who didn’t see him as a weapon to be used but a friend. The first mutant Erik has a positive interaction with. The only person who was able to unlock a side of Erik, even he didn’t know exist. In a way, he disappointed Charles and proved him wrong, that there is no good in him and he cannot be helped.

When he looks up he looks angry and hurt because he knows he won’t be able to change his mind. He know lost someone he considered a... (*cherik iykyk*) fRiEnD.

And Erik leaves Charles alone on the beach. Bleeding from the wound he gave him. Hurt from losing his bEsT fRienD and sister.

In conclusion: P A I N

#x-men #charles xavier #professor x #erik lehnsherr #magneto #brotherhood of evil mutants #mutants #cherik #CHERIK #character study #ig #idek what this is #watch this get no notes

[dreaming-in-alicante]

Chapter 3 is finally done! Sorry it took longer - finals week happened and it was a harder chapter to write for some reason. I'm excited to finish this story though - we're half-way through :)

Chapter 3: Lighting the flame

Christopher met his friends outside, where they piled into a carriage and set off for the Devil Tavern. The atmosphere between them was still tense; James and Matthew, sitting across from him, were quiet. Christopher wished, as he so often did, that he understood people better. He hated it when they all fought, and now it was partly his fault and he didn’t know how to fix it. Thankfully, James took the initiative.

“Kit,” he began, “we’re sorry for being so confrontational. It’s only you have to understand how it looks from our perspective. Grace’s actions, even if she regrets them, caused a great deal of pain.” James looked troubled.

“Thomas shared some of what you all learned yesterday talking to Jesse,” Matthew said softly. “About how bad things were for her with Tatiana. And it…well I still don’t trust her but it sounds like she’s trying to be – to be better. And I out of everyone should be sympathetic to that.” His hand moved unconsciously to his jacket. He had stopped carrying a flask everywhere but after so many years of drinking, it was still a reflex to reach for the alcohol.

James seemed to notice this motion, and clasped his parabatai’s shoulder briefly in support, then returned his attention to Christopher. “I suppose what I’ll say is that I cannot soon forget what Grace has done, and I prefer to avoid her,” James said carefully, “but I – none of us – should be trying to control who you spend time with Kit. I am sorry. If you trust her, then we shall trust you.”

“Oh, jolly good,” Christopher said, immensely relieved. He hated conflict, especially with his friends. “I am sorry that I didn’t think to mention her helping. She’s the first friend I’ve ever made.”

His friends all looked suddenly gut-punched for some reason. “Kit, do you not think we’re friends?” Matthew asked, appearing quite distressed.

“Of course we are! Aren’t we?” Christopher was, for a second time that evening, horribly confused.

“But you just said –” James began, looking stricken.

“Do you mean she’s the first friend that you personally have made, on your own, Kit?” Thomas asked, understanding Christopher best as usual.

“Precisely!” Christopher said, then realized, “Ah, I understand now how that sounded. I meant that – well, I’m related to two of you and we all just sort of fell in together didn’t we? I have never made a friend on my own.” The rest of the Merry Thieves relaxed visibly.

“Fair enough,” Matthew said, looking relieved. “Honestly Kit, Grace Bla – sorry , Cartwright – out of everyone you could choose for a friend.” He shook his head but there was a teasing glint in his eye.

“She’s really a wonderful lab partner!” Christopher assured them cheerfully. “She’s been organizing everything and making an inventory. And she had a wonderful insight the other day about this reaction with sulfuric acid.”

Thomas shifted on the seat next to Christopher as he said “I never would have expected scientific curiosity from Grace of all people, but she was right at home in that laboratory today.”

“Honestly, it took me a second to recognize her – wearing a dark dress, and those ridiculous goggles that you also wear in the lab,” Matthew said, gesturing at Christopher.

“They may not be fashionable, but they are very important as protective gear,” Christopher told him.

Matthew shuddered slightly but smiled good-naturedly as he said, “And that is why I will never pursue science. Terrible field for the fashion-minded.” This started him on a wild story about finding a new waistcoat earlier that week. Christopher was quite satisfied that peace had been restored, and thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the night with his friends.

_________________________________________________________

The following Wednesday, Christopher was even more eager than usual to get to Grosvenor Square – Henry was due to arrive back in London that morning. He was keen to get Henry’s thoughts on several projects, especially the runed guns and the fire messages.

Christopher started the morning by testing another rune combination on a message. This attempt ended, as many did, in a small explosion. He was still putting out a fire on the lab table when Grace arrived for the day. She greeted him briefly before starting to set up a reaction flask. During her organization of the lab she had come across a vial with some mysterious white powder. Christopher had no idea what it was, so they decided it would be an intriguing exercise for her to determine the contents.

Soon after Grace’s arrival, a humming noise sounded, then a whistling, signaling that the elevator down to the lab was in use. Christopher hurried over as the doors opened. “Welcome back, Henry!” he said, grinning.

Henry looked just the same as always, with perhaps a bit more gray in his hair after the stress of the past few months. “Kit, my boy!” he greeted as he maneuvered his Bath chair out of the elevator and towards the lab table. “How are things going? Any progress on those guns with the pithos? And you must help me examine this sample of water I brought back from Alicante, I wonder if we could try using it in another version of demon repelling ointment. Being around so many wards, it may be imbued with some demon-repelling properties.” He reached the work table and paused as he finally noticed Grace standing there. Henry looked bewildered and Christopher struggled to remember whether he had mentioned Grace in his letter to Henry. He was fairlysure that he had.

“Hello!” Henry said to her pleasantly, “You’re the one with the demon powers that was briefly engaged to my son. Gladys, yes?” Well, letter or otherwise, at least Henry remembered her.

“Grace, actually,” she replied, looking tense, her posture stiff. “I do want to apologize again for…everything.”

Henry waved off her concern and said, “It all ended alright didn’t it? Charles Buford will find someone else. And Kit mentioned you’ve been a great help in the lab recently!”

Good, Christopher thought, I did remember to include that in the letter.

“I would actually be quite interested to hear about your power and how it worked. Especially through a bracelet, fascinating!” Henry continued as he maneuvered towards the rack of chemicals.

Grace appeared exceedingly uncomfortable, but quickly warmed up to Henry throughout the day as he described various project ideas to her and took a look at her reactions. By that evening, when all three were involved in a lengthy discussion about runes and the application of runes to invention, it was as if Grace had always been part of the team. Christopher was delighted anew that Grace understood both he and Henry in a way that very few others did.

They finally finished for the night after Charlotte had called down the stairs three times with increasing insistence about coming up for dinner. Grace left to catch a carriage home with a smile on her face. Christopher wished briefly that she could stay longer, but he was comforted by the fact that she would return in the morning.

_________________________________________________________

“Hullo Grace!” Christopher said happily as she entered the lab early the next day. He then bent back down to examine a glass slide under the microscope. Henry was occupied entertaining some visitors with Charlotte, but Christopher was already hard at work. “You must come take a look at this sample of water from Lake Lyn that Henry brought,” he told her. It was fascinating watching the microorganisms move about in the droplet under the lens. When Grace did not immediately respond, he looked up and actually got a good look at her face. “I say, is something wrong, Grace? You’re a bit –” He was about to say ‘splotchy’, for her normally pale face was quite red in parts. He caught himself at the last second however, remembering his mother saying that a gentleman should never remark on a lady’s less-than-favorable appearance. “You look upset,” he said instead. She was not her normal cool and collected self.

He thought that Grace would brush off his concern, and she indeed stiffened and started to turn away. Then she met his gaze and her shoulder slumped in resignation. “I encountered Charles on my way in,” she explained.

“Ah. I forgot that he would be returning with Henry,” Christopher said, wincing. “Things are still awkward after ending the engagement then?”

“More than awkward,” she answered, expression still pinched. “He is still extremely upset that I manipulated his mind. Said I’d made a fool of him and he doesn’t want me in his house.” She set her coat and hat down on the stool with more force than strictly necessary.

Christopher frowned and said, “Technically it’s Henry and Charlotte’s house.”

A faint smile rose on Grace’s lips. “That’s precisely what I told him, and I mentioned that I worked with Henry just yesterday. He then called you both ‘trusting fools’ and made some…unflattering statements about my personage.”

“Well perhaps if we give him some more time, he’ll come round!” Christopher said optimistically. “I suppose it’s easier for me to say since you only used your power on me once or twice compared to the many more times you used it on him.”

Grace looked at him, pale brows drawn together in puzzlement. “I never used my power on you, Christopher,” she said slowly.

Christopher was wholly astonished by her statement. “You – never? Really?” he asked, mentally reeling. “What ho! But the night you came to the laboratory and helped me figure out the pithos I – are you sure?”

Grace shook her head. “Never. I’m completely sure,” she said firmly. “I would have apologized if I had, I –” she stared at him, looking almost indignant. “You really invited me here, have been working with me, and all this time you though I had manipulated you that night? And never gave you a formal apology?” she asked incredulously.

“When you asked about joining me in the lab that first day, you apologized for everything again. I assumed that included any time you used your power on me!” Christopher said, thoughts racing. He had been so eager to help her that night. Although now that he thought about it, they had discussed a lot of science, which he now knew Grace was genuinely interested in. “Why didn’t you?” he asked her, very curious.

Grace hesitated before saying, “I didn’t need to. You weren’t bothered by my being there and you were happy to show me around.” Something flickered in her pale eyes. “I never liked using my power when I could avoid it. I suppose because I knew that it was wrong,” she added. She looked as if she might say something else, but at that moment a whistling noise from the elevator indicated that Henry was on his way down to the lab.

They were soon absorbed in experimenting and discussing theories but at points Christopher found his focus drifting back to their conversation, and even farther back to that first night in the lab. It seemed like Grace had used her power on nearly everyone at some point, yet incredibly, she had never used it on him despite numerous opportunities. Christopher didn’t know what to make of that.

_________________________________________________________

It was just Christopher and Henry in the lab the following day. Grace was training with Jesse, and then planned to take a tour around the city with her brother, Lucie, and Ariadne (who was apparently going by Kamala these days). Christopher could never be bored working with Henry but after having Grace’s constant companionship for nearly a month it was…strange, to be working with only Henry and not her.

The day’s work proved incredibly successful, however. Upon Henry’s suggestion, Christopher added a bridge rune to the fire communication rune he had been tinkering with for months. He was thrilled to observe the message burn up and reform a few feet away. Henry, delighted, helped him replicate the results numerous times to prove that it was a repeatable phenomenon. Henry demonstrated it for a startled Charlotte (she had been interrupted in the middle of writing a letter in her office). She beamed, proud of them both, giving Henry a congratulatory kiss.

Christopher could not wait to share the good news with Grace. He wished she had been there to see it the first time, but no matter – there would be plenty of time to demonstrate it tomorrow.

He and Henry spent the rest of the afternoon trying to get the messages to travel farther than a few feet. Although foiled in these attempts, the breakthrough left them both very pleased as they finished for the day.

_________________________________________________________

Christopher was waiting at the entrance for Grace the next morning, eager to share the news. She looked startled to find him right behind the door as it opened, which he supposed was unusual given that they always met down in the lab. She had barely finished saying good morning before he could not contain his excitement and exclaimed, “You must come see the breakthrough Henry and I made yesterday, Grace! We’re so close to having a working fire-message!” He caught her arm and hurried her to the stairs down to the lab. She seemed a bit disoriented by his sudden enthusiasm but listened intently with a bemused smile as he explained the thought process behind the rune combination they had tried.

They reached the work table and Christopher quickly traced out the new rune. The paper burned up and reformed a few feet in front of them. When it reappeared, Grace grinned widely. “Incredible!” she declared, and she snatched the paper to study the rune. It occurred to Christopher that Grace had a very nice smile. She normally had a serious face, but smiles had become more frequent as the weeks had passed.

“What have you tried adding to this so far?” she asked. Christopher grabbed his notebook and they reviewed what he had recorded the previous day.

“Do you mind if I try some things?” Grace asked. “I’ve been studying that book on runes that Henry gave me – I think I may have a few ideas.”

“By all means!” Christopher told her, delighted. “I could use a break from runes after all the work yesterday. I think I’ll experiment with the Lake Lyn water today and try a demon-repelling ointment again.”

“All right, then,” she said, and set to work with a determined expression.

Later that afternoon, Henry already finished for the day and off to some important dinner, Christopher was checking the now-complete inventory list. “Blast!” he said softly, then called over to Grace, “Do you remember seeing nightshade anywhere when you were organizing?”

She pursed her lips in thought, then shook her head. “No, none,” she answered.

“I suppose I’ll be taking a trip to the Shadow Market tonight then,” Christopher said. He was determined to try combining some nightshade extract with the new demon-repelling ointment he was developing.

“The Shadow Market?” Grace queried, eyebrows raised in interest. “Do you go there often? I wanted to go before when I was looking for something to help Jesse, but I was never confident that I could find my way around.”

“It’s a wonderful place! I have to go fairly often for ingredients that are, er, not strictly approved by the Clave,” he explained. “Oh!” he said, struck by an obvious thought, “would you like to accompany me tonight?”

“I would love to,” Grace said, looking excited. She sent a letter to Jesse to inform him of the change in plans, and eagerly questioned Christopher about various aspects of the Market.

They each wrapped up their work as the sun began to set, the changing sky visible from a high window in the basement. Christopher was locating his coat and hat when he realized he should ask Grace about weapons. It was unlikely they’d face any demons in the carriage or Shadow Market, but it was good to be prepared. She had daggers on her already, but he offered her a seraph blade in addition. Ready, with ingredient list in hand, the set out to the carriage.

Christopher offered Grace an arm up, then followed her in. Their knees brushed together as he settled on the seat opposite Grace and the carriage began moving. Christopher noticed that she looked somewhat flushed. “Would you like the window open?” he asked. “You look a bit warm.”

“No, I’m perfectly comfortable, thank you,” she said, appearing discomposed. “What are you hoping to accomplish with the nightshade that you’ll be getting?” she asked.

Christopher happily launched into a lengthy explanation of his thought process and the previous attempts at demon-repelling ointment, and the discussion lasted them all the way to the Shadow Market.

#tlh fic #tlh #gracetopher #grace blackthorn x christopher lightwood #my fic

[smcc212]

In Debt Again- part 2

Pairings- Little bit of Tommy x Lizzie, reader x Tommy(platonic!), and reader x Lizzie(platonic!)

Word count- 2,547

Warnings- Tiny mentions of abuse(if you squint), and a little swearing.

A/N- Soooo, this is quite long. I’ll try to make future chapters shorter, no promises though. Also, I tried to proofread this, but I’m dyslexic so I’ve probably not done a great job at it, hahah. Anyway, Enjoy!!

“Umm, would... would you mind coming in with me?” You stammered.

“Why?” Tommy responded, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

“Well... I-I didn’t lie to you w-when I said that I-I didn’t know where my dad was... B-but, I’m scared he could’ve come home now, a-and I don’t want him to hurt me,” You mumbled the last part, but Tommy heard. You couldn’t tell, but a wave of sadness and empathy hit him like a punch in the gut, so he nodded.

You climbed out of the car, Tommy by your side. You pretended to unlock the door; a habit you’d picked up after so long of living there. You opened the door and walked inside, stopping after four steps to listen for you dad; you didn’t hear him so you motioned for Tommy to follow upstairs.

You crept into your bedroom, and slowly started to pack the few things you owned: two dresses, four shirts, a blazer, two pairs of trousers, suspenders and your black, steel-toe-cap boots. The only pair of heels you owned were on your feet.

After packing everything away, you crept back downstairs, this time, Tommy was in front of you. Your heart was in your throat, the fear that your father may appear when you were in the house was ever present.

Until, eventually, you made it back to Tommy’s car. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the car started to move.

Most of the journey was silent, until Tommy spoke up,

“You don’t own a lot of stuff, but you own more shirts than dresses, why?” He didn’t sound shocked or appalled, he sounded genuinely curious.

“I prefer to wear a suit, they’re more comfortable than dresses,” You mumbled, but again, he heard you. Tommy just nodded and you fell into a slightly more comfortable silence than before, although it was still rather awkward.

When the car pulled into Tommy’s drive, your eyes widened and your jaw dropped. You knew Tommy was wealthy, but his house was immaculate. The car stopped and you and Tommy got out. You grabbed your small bag and walked towards the gorgeous house. Insecurity ate you alive more with each step you took.

Tommy opened the door and you walked inside, he followed after you, closing the door behind you.

“Wait here,” Tommy ordered. You nodded and he disappeared. Just as you were beginning to take in the grand design of the place, Tommy reappeared, this time with a stunning woman and two children trotting behind them.

Tommy beckoned you towards him, you walked up to him.

“(Y/N), this is my wife Lizzie, my son Charles, or Charlie as he prefers, and my daughter Ruby.” He gestured to each of them as he spoke.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” You said, shakily.

“All of you, this is, (Y/N)-“ He continued, “-she’ll be staying with us for awhile.”

“Okay!” Charlie and Ruby chirped together. “Can we go play now?” Charlie asked.

“Alright, but take one of the maids with you,” Lizzie responded. The children squealed before running off to fine a maid. Lizzie looked you up and down, her eyes staying fixing on your injury’s for a moment, before she turned to Tommy. “And why is she here?”

“Her father owes us a fair amount of money. She came to try and help out with it, but... her father did that to her, Lizzie. I couldn’t let her help him and I certainly couldn’t let her stay at his house anymore, okay?” Tommy responded.

“Alright, I’ll get a maid to make up a room for her, but we’ll talk more about this later.” Lizzie sauntered off. Tommy huffed,

“Don’t worry about her. You need help and I’m gonna give you it.” Although you knew what he meant and part of you wanted to thank him, again. The other part of you was livid.

“I don’t need your help! Yeah, I wanna get away from my dad but I don’t need you to do that!” You shouted at him. Tommy was almost going to tell you to get the fuck out and that you should’ve been grateful. But, he looked in your eyes and saw the pain behind them so, instead, he just sighed heavily.

“I’ll show you around a little.”

“Okay.”

After Tommy showed you around, he walked up to a woman in a maids outfit and asked what room you’d be staying in. She told him and you lead you there.

Although you didn’t let it show, you were still in awe of his house. It didn’t feel real that you’d be staying here; part of you thought it was a dream.

“Here’s where you’ll be sleeping. Also, if you want to, you can change into a suit. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I’ll do that. Thank you,” You replied.

“It no problem, and you don’t need to keep saying ‘thank you’, I understand you’re grateful.”

“Oh, okay.” And with that, he walked out your room. You changed into your suit and put your boots on, letting out a sigh of relief; this was much better. Then you just stood there. You didn’t know what to do. Where you allowed to roam around his house, or did he want you to stay in your room. You’d have killed for a book to read to pass the time.

As you stood there, wondering what you were supposed to do, there was a knock at your door.

“Are you decent?” A woman’s voice traveled through the door, it sounded like the woman Tommy told you was his wife.

“Uh... yeah, yeah, I am,” you stuttered. She let herself in.

“Umm... Hi, Mrs, Shelby,” You mumbled, awkwardly.

“Hi, (Y/N), I just wanted to talk to you about living here.”

“Alright,” You replied.

She sat down on the bed and you sat down next to her.

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but, I don’t want you to be alone with the children. Again, don’t take this the wrong,but I don’t know you. I don’t know if I can trust you,” She spoke, her voice was soft. You tell she wasn’t trying to intimidate you, she was just being a good mother. You wished you had one of those.

“I understand, if I was in your position I wouldn’t want me around your kids either.” The two of you shared a nod of understanding before you continue, “But, for the record, I would never do anything to harm your children... I’ve been harmed enough,” You muttered the last part, hoping she wouldn’t hear you. But she did.

“Do you not have a mother to look after you?” It was clear her maternal instincts kidded in.

“No, I don’t. My father fucked some prostitute and she left me with him. He always shit-talks her because she sold her body, something I never understood.”

“How did you not understand?” Lizzie asked, remembering her old life and how people used to-and still do- talk about her.

“I mean, I don’t understand why people care so much. It’s not their body, if someone wants to fuck other people for money-or if they have to- why does that make them a bad person. It’s their body, they can use it however they want.” Realising you’d been rambling, you turn to face Lizzie. “Sorry, my opinions on prostitution aren’t important to you.”

“No, I like that you’re vocal about it. And, I agree, what a woman does with her own body is her choice.” She smiled kindly at you.

“And what a man does with his body is his choice,” You added, mentally cursing yourself bringing up your opinions on male prostitution. No one cares about that. You thought.

“Exactly.” You smiled at Lizzie.bit was nice to have someone share your views.

“Erm, is that all you came here to say?”

“Yes.” She started to walk out before you spoke up,

“Am I to stay in here, or can I go to the library and grab a book?” You asked. You chuckled lightly, gesturing with her hand for you to follow her, so you did.

She lead you to the library that Tommy had shown you early.

“Pick anything you’d like.” You walked around, picking up random books and reading synopsis’ then putting them back down, none of them peaked your interest. Lizzie noticed and asked, “What type of books do you like?”

“Crime novels... I promise this isn’t the reason I’m here-“ you giggled slightly, “-but mostly gangster related ones.” She smiled, walking over past you and grabbing a book she thought you’d like, sand passing it to you.

“It’s not really about gangsters, but it’s about crime, and there’s a little about gangsters in there,” She said, passing you the thick, leather clad book.

“Thank you.” You smiled at her before walking back to your room.

You were about half way through your book, and you had to give it to Lizzie, it was a good book, when Tommy knocked at your door. You muttered a quiet ‘come in’, but he heard and opened the door.

“Dinner’s ready, come on.” He waited as you Mark your page, got up and walked up to him. You followed him to the dining room. You’d never seen so much food before.

“Help yourself,” Lizzie said, kindly. After your encounter early on, she’d started to take a liking to you. Since it was Sunday, the meal was a Sunday dinner. You’d never had one, but your father would have one every Sunday. You took a slice of chicken then a one spoonful of carrots and one spoonful of mashed potatoes then you started to eat.

“That’s all you’re gonna have?” Tommy asked in disbelief.

“It’s enough to keep me going until dinner tomorrow,” You replied. Were you supposed to take more?

“Whenever you’d have Sunday dinner, that’s all you’d take?” Tommy questioned.

“Well...umm... I’ve never had Sunday dinner,” you mumbled, slightly embarrassed. “But sometimes my father would let me have a slice or two of chicken on my sandwich!” You enthused, a smile grew across your face as you thought of the few times that had happened.

“Seriously?” Tommy had a look of pity in his eyes. You turned to look at Lizzie, she, also, had a look of pity in her eyes, but also sadness.

“Yeah...” You muttered. “Why?”

“It’s just... never mind. Why don’t you take some more?” Tommy suggested.

“Yeah-“ Lizzie added, “-we had the cooks make more mash and carrots for you. That’s not even a full meal you’ve got there.”

“Oh... alright.” You took another slice of chicken and half a spoon of potatoes before continuing with your dinner.

After everyone had finished eating, Lizzie told a woman in a maids outfit-not the same woman Tommy had talked to before-to take Ruby and Charlie to bed. Then it was just the three of you.

After a few minutes you broke the silence, “do you want me to go back to the guest room?” You assumed neither one of them wanted you there. No one ever wanted you around.

“You tired? Or do you just wanna continue reading your book?” Tommy questioned.

“Neither, really, I just thought you’d want me to leave.”

“What do you normally do before bed?”

“Well... I-I don’t really... I just, erm, I just go to my room. You know, so my father doesn’t get angry.” You shrugged, you went to stand up when Lizzie put her arm on yours, causing you to stop.

“Tom here sometimes goes out to check on the horses, you could go with him?” She suggested.

“I’d hate to be an annoyance.” You smiled at her, her arm slipped from yours as she offered you a kind smile back.

“I don’t really mind,” Tommy mumbled.

“If there’s one thing I know, it’s that when a man says ‘I don’t really mind’ he does mind.”

“Alright, let me try again. I don’t mind, (Y/N), would you like to come check on the horses with me?”

“You sure?” You didn’t think he’d hurt you, but you were still scared of annoying him; subconsciously you were scared he might hurt you if you did.

“I’m positive.” The corners slightly raised and, from Thomas Shelby, that was enough to make you feel like he was okay with it.

“Okay then.” You smiled back. Lizzie stood up and placed a reassuring hand on your back before looking between you and Tommy.

“I’ll be in bed, don’t know if I’ll be asleep though,” She drawled as she walked out of the room and headed to their shared bedroom.

You stared at the beautiful creatures, you always loved horses. Your father, however, hated them. He always complained about how ugly he thought they were and that they got scared by the tiniest thing. But you loved them. Part of you related to them. Being scared of a rather large sound or a movement, you understood that. Also, you could never understand how your father thought they were ugly. They were to most gorgeous animal in the world to you; they run around all day, and when they felt tired, they could relax. You envied them so much.

“Majestic, aren’t they?” Tommy said.

“Yeah. I’ve always wanted to learn to ride one, but my father hated them.”

“Your dad-“ you cut him off.

“Don’t call him my dad! He’s not my dad! Dads care for their children, love them... he’s not like that!” You took a deep breath. “Sorry... I just don’t like him being called my dad.”

“Noted.” Tommy replied, he looked at you and you could see a slight smile on his face. Half of you was angry that he was smiling at your outburst, but, the other half of you loved that he smiled at your outburst because that side of you understood why he smiled; that side of you knew Tommy could tell you wanted nothing more than for your father to love you, and Tommy definitely knew that feeling.

You and Tommy were with the horses for half an hour before you walked back inside. No words exchanged after your outburst. You know Tommy wasn’t mad though, because he wouldn’t be able to hide his anger if he was. After what you’d gone through you could tell when people were angry, not matter how hard they tried to hide it.

When you got back inside and started to head to your room, you over heard Tommy and Lizzie talking about you. You stood outside the room, listening to them. You knew you shouldn’t, but they were talking about you. You needed to know what they were saying about you.

“How long do you think she’ll be here?” Lizzie asked.

“I don’t know, she’ll be here until I figure out what do with her. That alright with you?”

“Yeah, she’s sweet. I can’t believe her own father would do that to her.” Anger and disgust laced Lizzie words.

“I know. Evil fucking bastard,” Tommy seethed. “Oh, by the way, don’t him her dad, she doesn’t like it.”

“Okay. Understandable, I guess.”

Things were looking up for you. Finally, you felt as though you’d never have to see your father again.

Oh, how wrong you were...

#tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinder fic #peaky blinders #peaky fookin blinders #thomas shelby fics #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby fic #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x you #lizzie shelby #lizzie stark #charlie shelby #ruby shelby

[gstqaobc]

CBC THE ROYAL FASCINATOR

Friday, October 23, 2020

Hello, royal watchers and all those intrigued by what’s going on inside the House of Windsor. This is your biweekly dose of royal news and analysis. Reading this online? Sign up here to get this delivered to your inbox.

Janet DavisonRoyal Expert

The lessons of becoming Diana in The Crown

(Ollie Upton/Netflix)

For Emma Corrin, preparing to take on the role of Diana, Princess of Wales, in The Crown was something of a psychology lesson. The 24-year-old actor assumed the part knowing full well those watching her arrival next month in Season 4 of the Netflix drama will already have well-established impressions of a member of the Royal Family who grew from "Shy Di" to one of the most photographed celebrities and fashion icons of recent times. Those existing impressions made assuming the role “incredibly daunting,” Corrin said in an interview from London. It helped once she got the script and saw the story. But there was also considerable work with a coach on “understanding the psychology behind a lot of what was happening.” And a lot of what was happening to Diana was “incredibly unnatural and quite intense,” Corrin said. At the age of 19, Diana Spencer moved from an apartment she shared with friends in West London into Buckingham Palace after her engagement to Prince Charles, the heir to the throne and a man 13 years her senior. Diana thought “it was going to be the best event of her life and that they were going to live happily ever after, but then [she discovered] he was with another woman,” Corrin said. Along with that, there was the pressure that comes from being a royal in the public eye.   “All of these are very extraordinary circumstances, really, for someone to be operating in,” said Corrin. “These things that she was exposed to come with a whole lot of pressures that affect someone’s mentality, and that was really interesting.” Even so, there are still all those impressions viewers will have before they catch their first glimpse of Diana when the new season of The Crown starts streaming on Nov. 15. And what if Corrin’s portrayal doesn’t match those impressions? Does that matter in trying to create a successful portrayal of such a well-known person? Not necessarily. “If you talk to actors who have to play a real person ... especially somebody that is so world famous and familiar as Diana — [the challenge comes] because audiences are expecting that actress to look and sound just like the real thing,” said Bill Brioux, a longtime television columnist and commentator. He looks no further than the actor holding the central role on The Crown for Seasons 3 and 4 as an example of overcoming that challenge. “I think Olivia Colman [as Queen Elizabeth] has shown that you don’t have to be a carbon copy, that you might capture a nuance or an essence of someone,” Brioux said. “Certainly, Colman spent a lot of The Crown looking surprised and perplexed, you know, aghast at times.” And we certainly aren’t used to seeing the Queen looking that way in public. “So I think it will be interesting to see how Diana is received,” Brioux said. As she prepared for the role, Corrin said she became overwhelmed “by the amount of factual information out there about her and also … the thought that I would be portraying someone so well-known." Corrin said she “started work on her mannerisms and her behaviour and figuring out why she did the things she did or what she would feel about certain situations that I was going to be acting. “ Corrin also spoke to Patrick Jephson, Diana’s private secretary. “He knew her very well and was able to provide a lot of insight, which was wonderful.” With Diana, Brioux suggested, there may be more pressure on an actor than if the portrayal was of a person not so well-known. “People all have their own expectations of Diana in their minds,” he said. “You’re going to disappoint a lot of people no matter what you do, so hat’s off to this actress for taking it on. “I think that there’s potential, though, if you come close, to get a lot of rave reviews because everyone knows the subject and that’s how they’ll judge it."

For more on Corrin’s experiences preparing for the role, click here.

A rare day out for the Queen — and no mask

(Ben Stansall/Reuters)

Royal visits can typically give the royal guest the opportunity to see some cutting-edge technology or to meet individuals being recognized for their work or volunteer efforts in helping others in their community. But Queen Elizabeth’s first major public engagement since the coronavirus pandemic struck in March offered more than a chance for her to visit a new defence research centre west of London and check out the latest in explosives detection. The visit to Porton Down, where scientists are also helping in the response to the pandemic, seemed designed to offer a larger symbolism. “I think it was a really important message for her to send that even though … we’ve been in lockdown and we’re facing new restrictions, the Queen was still able to meet people involved in the COVID response,” Roya Nikkhah, a royal correspondent for the Sunday Times newspaper, told the CBC’s Renee Filippone. Still, the visit, which the 94-year-old carried out alongside her grandson, Prince William, sparked questions — and criticism — because neither of them was wearing a mask at a time when Britons must wear face coverings in stores and other indoor spaces. Those involved in the visit were physically distanced, and Buckingham Palace said safety protocols were followed. Reuters reported that staff at the research centre had been tested for COVID-19 before the visit. “Every precaution that could be taken was taken,” said Nikkhah. “That’s why the Queen didn’t have to wear a mask.” Royal author Robert Jobson told the Daily Mail that Elizabeth was sending a “message of confidence to the people.” “She’s going back to work, she'll go about her business in the usual way, but without taking chances. She is reassuring the public that things must go on as normal, wherever it is safe to do so.” The Queen has spent much of the time since the pandemic struck in isolation at Windsor Castle, considered to be her favourite residence. She has returned there recently after spending a few weeks with Prince Philip at Balmoral Castle in Scotland, and a shorter period on her Sandringham estate northeast of London. Throughout the pandemic, Elizabeth has conducted official duties via video or over the phone, and made two appearances within the walls of Windsor Castle — one for a considerably scaled-down recognition of her official birthday in June, and one to bestow a knighthood on Capt. Tom Moore, a 100-year-old honoured for his charity fundraising. Still, it’s unlikely there will be many other outings like her trip to Porton Down anytime soon. “I think [it] was probably a bit of a one-off,” Nikkhah said. “I don’t think we’ll be seeing a lot more of her on public engagements.”

A new portrait for Canada

(Chris Jackson/Getty Images/Government of Canada)

There is also considerable symbolism on display in Queen Elizabeth’s new official Canadian portrait. While the portrait is new to the public, the photo itself was taken more than a year ago, in March 2019 at Windsor Castle, by royal photographer Chris Jackson. He shared it on social media late last week. In the portrait, the Queen is wearing her Canadian insignia as sovereign of the Order of Canada, Jackson said, along with the Order of Military Merit. The diamond and blue sapphire necklace and earrings she is wearing were a wedding day gift from her father, King George VI, in November 1947, and were worn during her five-day trip to Canada in 1990. Jackson said on Instagram that it was an “incredible honour” to have the opportunity to photograph the Queen for the portrait. “I’ve been lucky enough to have visited Canada many times now with members of the Royal Family and have the fondest memories of the people I’ve met.”

Royally quotable

"My family and I knew nothing about it and were at a loss to know how we could help alleviate the terrible pain she suffered."

— Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall,

reflects on her mother’s death from osteoporosis

26 years ago, and went on this week to note the “huge strides” made since then in treatment and research into the disease.

Royals in Canada

(Hans Deryk/The Canadian Press)

When Charles and Diana came to Canada in late October 1991, it was the last trip they made to the country together. And in ways it was two visits in one for the couple, whose collapsing marriage was under intense media scrutiny at the time, as they went their separate ways for much of the seven-day sojourn.

One stop for Diana in Toronto took her to Casey House, a hospice for people who have AIDS.

“Diana had just begun to venture into the issue of AIDS, then repellent to much of society, but it was still surprising that she chose to see a hospice full of very ill people rather than some less harrowing AIDS setting,” Casey House founder June Callwood

wrote in Maclean’s magazine

after Diana’s death in 1997.

Callwood had a mixed view of Diana, but that visit to Casey House, where she sat and visited with hospice residents, left a lasting impression.

Diana “wanted nothing less than to change the world for the better,” Callwood wrote. “And perhaps she did. On that lovely afternoon … she made everyone at a small AIDS hospice in Toronto feel worthwhile. That’s quite a gift.”

Our friends at CBC Archives have taken a closer look at the 1991 visit, which was also the first time both William and Harry went with their parents on a foreign trip.

Royal reads

1. Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, says she

avoids speaking about controversial topics

in an attempt to ensure she doesn’t put her family at risk. She also says she’s been told that in 2019, she was the

“most trolled person in the entire world.”

[BBC, The Guardian]

2. More than 60 years after Queen Elizabeth gave a pair of swans to a city in Florida,

it has sold off three dozen of their descendants

in a bid to ease a crisis in overpopulation of the birds. [The Independent]

3. Thirty years after Diana laid a ceremonial foundation stone for a cancer hospital, her son William

did the same

. [The Daily Mail]

4. Dutch King Willem-Alexander says he

regrets going to Greece for a holiday

after he and his family were criticized for taking a trip during the pandemic. [BBC]

Cheers!

I’m always happy to hear from you. Send your ideas, comments, feedback and notes to

[email protected]

. Problems with the newsletter? Please let me know about any typos, errors or glitches.

[sareyen]

Let Me Whisper In Your Mind, Darling (Part 2/2)

Read on ao3

Part 2

From Emma Frost – 6:27pm How was your hot date with Charles, Sugar? You didn’t put out already, did you?

Erik let out a dismissive ‘hmph’ at Emma’s message, simply sending her a curt ‘fuck off’ and wafting his phone back down onto Charles’s coffee table, the telepath currently in the bathroom as they waited for their Chinese delivery to arrive.

As Erik looked around the room, he still couldn’t quite believe that he was here, in Charles’s apartment sprawled on his couch after having spent the better part of the afternoon lounging there and lazily making out with the other man.

They only pulled themselves off each other when Charles’s stomach grumbled, Erik’s glare at the offending organ making Charles laugh, inviting Erik to stay for dinner (or forever) by enticing him with ordering Chinese delivery. Erik didn’t waste a moment in whipping out his phone to order for them, giddy.

The doorbell to Charles’s apartment rang, and Erik heard Charles call out “Could you get that, darling? It’s probably dinner!” from the bathroom down the narrow hall, and Erik’s heart squeezed tightly – something about that was so familiar and so domestic, and images of many future nights staying in and ordering delivery with Charles surged up into the forefront of Erik’s mind.

He didn’t realise he was grinning his signature shark-like grin when he opened the door, the young and gangly delivery boy’s eyes widening in terror as he looked up at Erik’s face. The boy squeaked and basically threw their dinner at Erik, who just raised a brow and shoved the boy’s tip into his hands, watching as he scuttled off in a panic.

Erik had pulled out their food by the time Charles wheeled himself back into the open living space, pulling up to the dining table with a kiss pressed to the back of Erik’s hand, smiling up at him.

Erik almost collapsed then and there, but held himself together by quickly pushing Charles’s basic lemon chicken and rice to him, cloaking the magnitude 7.0 earthquake in his chest by rolling his eyes.

“Lemon chicken, really, Charles?” Erik teased, taking his own spicy Szechuan noodles out, Charles grimacing at the smell of spice wafting from it.

“Sue me, I’m English. Salt and pepper are spicy enough for us,” Charles said, looking at Erik’s red-toned dish apprehensively, before taking a bite out of his own bland meal and humming happily. “And besides, if you’re going to fuck me later, I don’t need my ass to be any hotter than it already is.”

Erik choked on his noodles, which now tasted ridiculously bland in comparison to the words that just fell from Charles’s lips. Charles shot Erik a smug look at the response he dragged from the man, who growled and stabbed his noodles with his chopsticks, standing up to lean over the small dining table and grab Charles’s chin, kissing him. Charles squealed and half-heartedly pushed Erik away. Charles’s mouth was a little sticky and tasted like lemon chicken, and for once, Erik didn’t mind the taste.

“Erik, your tongue’s on fire!” Charles whined when Erik pulled back after plundering Charles’s mouth. Erik’s heart flushed with affection when Charles stuck his light pink tongue out, eyes crinkling. “Christ, that’s spicy. How can you handle it?”

“You could work those lines of yours into an audio, you know,” Erik said, smirking. Charles grinned, before taking a spoonful of lemon chicken and rice and slowly pushing it into his mouth. He wrapped his mouth around the cuff of his spoon and slid it out, before dropping his head back to reveal the smooth column of his pale neck. Charles then pushed a low, long moan from his throat as he chewed, and the morsel of noodles Erik was about to put into his own mouth slipped limply from his hovering chopsticks, his eyes trained on the way Charles’s throat bobbed when he swallowed.

“Mmm, tastes so good,” Charles purred, licking his lips with a wet smack, red mouth and voice completely obscene. Erik felt his cock jump up in interest at the sight and sounds. Charles picked up on the arousal now clouding Erik’s mind, chuckling. “Darling, maybe after we eat, I can show you how I make an audio. You can have a, should we say, behind the scenes look?”

“Gott, yes,” Erik said quickly, shovelling his noodles into his mouth at a rapid pace, not even feeling the burn in his mouth when his cock was now burning in his pants. Charles grinned, and the two ate – Charles made conversation, sometimes dropping in suggestive innuendos just to see Erik wriggle, and soon their meals were done and the containers thrown into the bin, Charles directing Erik to his bedroom. Erik’s mind went directly into the gutter at that point (or long before it, if he were being honest), but then he saw the computer and microphone set up on a desk pushed up against the wall.

“It’s a little squeezy, sorry,” Charles said, gesturing to a chair covered with some clothes in the corner. “You can just dump all of that on the floor somewhere and pull the chair up to my desk. Or just sit on the bed, that’s relatively clear of debris. Sorry, I don’t, uh, usually have people over. In my room. So it’s a mess. Sorry.” Charles looked a little sheepish at his admission, but Erik’s heart just sang, some of the metal in the room humming in response.

Erik ended up just plopping himself on Charles’s bed like he suggested, probably the better option since there wasn’t really enough room for them to squeeze together at Charles’s desk. Charles clicked a few things and booting up his computer while Erik settled on Charles’s soft comforter.

“I’ve been meaning to film a sequel to my ‘caught my roommate masturbating’ audio,” Charles said offhandedly, like he wasn’t keenly aware of how Erik’s body was slightly stiff. Charles turned from the computer screen to look at Erik, gleam in his eye, as he spoke again. “You know the one, right?”

How could Erik forget?

It was one of the audios Erik had often returned to, and was in the number 1 slot of his top 5 ProfessorXXX audios, because Erik had a ranking – not that he would admit that to Charles. Not yet, anyway.

Erik’s ranking was as follows:

[M4M] I catch you masturbating while screaming my name and let you fuck me senseless [roommates][college][begging]

[M4A] Edging myself for over an hour and cumming so hard I cry [masturbation]

[M4M] You’re under my control, darling [telepathy][dom][bondage][hardcore][aftercare]

[M4M] I’ve been a naughty boy, officer [cop-roleplay][bondage][rough]

[M4A] In depth review of the Lelo Tor 2 cock ring and the Lelo HUGO prostate massager (spoiler: I cum hard. Twice.) [maturbation][sextoyreview][sponsoredbyLELO]

This list had been carefully curated after many months of thorough experimentation. Erik had good reasons as to why each of these were in his top 5, though at the rate he had been going, he had contemplated extending it to a top 10. That’s how good ProfessorXXX’s videos were – there were no videos that were bad (Erik had come at least once to every video in Charles’s extensive portfolio), but there were definitely ones that stood out amongst the others.

Of course, Erik did love Charles’s mutant-centric works a great amount, but that was more out of his appreciation for the respectful way Charles made them and the pro-mutant support they provided. His top 5, however, were based solely on how quickly and devastatingly they could make Erik come.

In the number 5 spot was one video in Charles’s relatively new sex toy review series, aptly labelled ‘SexToys 101 with ProfessorXXX’. The videos were a mixture of informative, light and sexy, usually starting with an endearing moan-free spiel from ProfessorXXX about the features of whichever device he was trying out that session, often throwing in amusing anecdotes and genuinely well-thought-out points about the device’s pros and cons. That would eventually lead to ProfessorXXX trying out the devices, getting himself off with obscene moans that Erik could listen to forever. Erik may or may not have ordered the Lelo Tor 2 and Lelo HUGO right after using ProfessorXXX’s promo code [ProfX20] – the man had given the products a final grade of A+, after all.

Audio number 4 was, by nature, quite cheesy, but Charles played a naughty law breaker so well. He was flirty, he was impish, and he knew exactly what to say to get what he wanted from his listener, whom he referred to as ‘Officer’. Even though he wasn’t supposed to be the one in power, he completely subverted it and everyone knew that he had you wrapped around his finger, even if you were the one knuckle deep inside him (audibly, of course).

Number 3 was on the list was for whenever Erik was particularly angry and frustrated after a tiring day. Sometimes he would be in a mood because of Professor Shaw, or if he had a run-in with a mutantphobic bastard on campus. More often than not, though, it would be after a laborious shift at work after his boss had solidified his spot as ‘Number 1 Prick’ in another one of Erik’s mental lists.

Number 3 was, potentially, one of the more intense videos Charles has made; in it, ProfessorXXX was forceful, rough, and treated Erik like he was a plaything. And Erik loved it. That video was singlehandedly responsible for initiating Erik’s telepathy kink (especially now that he knew that Charles, an actual telepath, was ProfessorXXX). What he loved about it even more, though, was that even though the audio was exceptionally rough and, at times, absolutely brutal, it still respected ideas about consent. Erik’s anger was always obliterated the moment he came using that video, and the aftercare ProfessorXXX included at the end in his soothing English accent always wiped away Erik’s worries.

The number 1 and 2 spots were, expectedly, difficult to assign. Number 2 was just a filthy audio of Charles moaning wantonly, cursing whenever he would stop himself from coming, and with every one of Charles’s whimpers Erik would just strip his cock harder and harder. It was simple, and there were no plotlines or roles, but still so, so hot. Simple could never go wrong, not when you were ProfessorXXX.

The blessed Number 1 audio had probably just pipped the edging clip to take the top spot because it struck the hidden desire in Erik for some kind of… relationship. Erik could imagine that he really was the person ProfessorXXX spoke to, and whenever the audio got to the part where ProfessorXXX found the listener jerking themselves off, he would truly imagine the man walking into his dingy bedroom and having his way with him. He hadn’t been able to picture someone’s face, but now that he knew it was Charles…

‘Oh, Gott,’ Erik cursed mentally, at Charles’s words. Charles chuckled, knowing immediately that Erik definitely knew the video he was referring to.

“In the sequel, I was thinking about it going the other way. The listener would find me, mm, touching myself… maybe with a butt plug buried deep in my ass, and, well… I think you can imagine where it would go from there,” Charles said, biting his plush lower lip sultrily, Erik swallowing. Erik could already feel his cock stirring, beginning to fill out the front of his pants.

“Sounds… Sounds like an interesting audio,” Erik pushed out, voice only a little strained.

“Mm, I’m glad that you think so. As my number one fan, I’m sure you know what the people want,” Charles said, smirking while pushing his microphone around a little so he could partially turn to face Erik. Most of the microphone was made of metal, and Erik sent out a wisp of his powers; he could feel the metal warm under Charles’s fingertips, and the way his breath fanned across it. Erik licked his lips, suddenly very thirsty.

“What… What microphone are you using?” Erik asked, trying to pretend that he wasn’t as affected as he was, but failing miserably considering the way his eyes weren’t looking at the microphone at all, but at the pink tongue darting out of Charles’s mouth to swipe at his lower lip.

“Blue Yeti Pro,” Charles answered through a smile, and Erik couldn’t help but think ‘that sounds like it could be the name of a sex toy, fuck’. If you stretched your imagination enough, for Charles and his voice, the microphone really could be considered a sex toy. “And, if we’re talking shop, it’s a pretty good microphone. It records in stereo and bi-directional sound well, so if I…” Charles leaned in close to the microphone, demonstrating, “wanted to sound like I was whispering into your left ear, I could just do this.” Charles let out a puff of a breath to the left of the microphone, and Erik could imagine him doing so directly to him, those red lips at his ear, maybe brushing against his earlobe. And maybe he could, because through Erik’s metal-sense, he felt that brush of air. Erik’s face grew hot.

“Sounds technical,” Erik said after clearing his rough voice with a small cough, Charles smiling.

“Mm, well, I could explain to you some more technical things, but that would be quite dry. Giving you a demonstration, on the other hand, would be much easier. And, potentially, a lot wetter,” Charles said, winking as Erik cursed silently.

“Okay,” was all Erik was able to supply, rearranging his body on Charles’s bed so he sat up against the backboard, propped up comfortably with Charles’s pillows that smelled like his shampoo. It didn’t help that the entire bed smelled like Charles, or that the man himself was sitting in the cramped room with that bloody mischievous and alluring smile on his face.

“This is my first time recording with someone watching me, for obvious reasons,” Charles said slowly, eyeing Erik with his piercing blue gaze. “So, again, bear with me.”

“Okay,” Erik said again, and he felt like a complete dolt with a one-word vocabulary. “How… How do you usually start?”

“Depends on the audio, but for this one… well, it starts with you catching me jerking myself off,” Charles said, slowly beginning to unbutton his trousers, making Erik’s eyes bug out.

“Oh. Do you usually… actually… touch yourself when you make these?” Erik asked, Charles laughing lightly, shrugging as he lifted the weight of his lower body with one flexed arm and pulling his pants down with the other, the movement so smooth Erik was captivated.

“Sometimes, if I feel like it,” Charles said, winking. “Obviously, at times I have to fake it, but… well, I have pretty good wank material sitting right in front of me right now. It would be a shame to waste it.”

“Charles,” Erik groaned, cock definitely interested now. Charles just grinned, pulling open one of his desk drawers, pursing his lips for a moment before grabbing a half-empty bottle of lube and a vibrating cock ring (the infamous Lelo Tor 2, which Erik had tucked into his top bedside drawer as well). Before Charles closed the drawer, he noticed a fucking pale blue ribbed butt plug sitting on top of a pile of other interesting things. That butt plug probably had a different name, but considering its size, Blue Yeti Pro would have fit it very well.

‘Another time,’ Erik vowed to himself. Charles must have caught that thought, because he sent Erik a very, very detailed projection about how he had used that butt plug a past time.

“Charles, you’re going to kill me,” Erik complained, pulling at the fabric of his pants around his thighs, the slight friction making him shiver. Charles just smirked, pressing record on his computer.

‘Try to keep quiet, darling. I can’t have the microphone picking up your voice, it would be a nightmare to edit later,’ Charles pushed into Erik’s mind. ‘If you’re too loud, I might have to gag you.’

“Fu-” Erik started, Charles silently laughing when he slapped his hand over his mouth, catching himself. ‘I can keep quiet, I was just caught off guard. Gott.’

‘Mhmm. We’ll see about that, darling. Well, I should begin actually recording – I’ll have to cut the first minute of the clip, but that’s easy. Hm, how should I start, Erik? You seem like the type who likes to just get to the juicy parts quickly,’ Charles said, corner of his mouth curving upwards as he slowly pulled his flaccid cock out, beginning to stroke himself with a firm grip, being quite rough with his pretty uncut member.

Now that Erik knew that a stronger touch was needed for adequate stimulus, the metalbender was not surprised with the eagerness and aggressive touch Charles dealt himself, and was incredibly turned on. Charles’s eyes were locked with Erik’s, pupils dark and wide and rimmed with a thinning ring of azure blue. Erik could feel his pants growing tighter, blood draining south, and was pleased to see that Charles’s own cock was beginning to fill out as well.

‘I do usually skip to the main event when I watch porn, but not when I listen to you,’ Erik admitted, allowing himself to drag his palm across his bulge, Charles’s eyes dropping from his face when he noticed the movement. Charles’s breath caught, the sound picked up on the microphone, the colourful soundwave on the computer screen jumping slightly.

‘Mm, thank you. I, myself, quite like a slow build… foreplay is important,’ Charles said telepathically, parting his lips to lets out a louder gasp into the microphone as he continued to stroke up and down his cock, which was more than half-hard now. Charles let go of his member for a moment, but only so he could coat his hand with a generous amount of lube, making sure he held the bottle close to the microphone to capture the obscene squelch. Charles’s slicked-up hand returned to his cock, and he moaned.

‘You’re so beautiful, Charles, it’s unfair. Illegal,’ Erik groaned mentally, pushing the image of Charles stroking himself in his vision towards the telepath, who let out another affected noise.

‘Is that how you see me? You flatter me again, darling,’ Charles said, his cock now coaxed to full hardness under his palm, the sight of Erik tented pants and Erik’s mental affirmations sending his heart into a flurry.

Erik watched, enraptured, as Charles continued to let out breathy moans mixed with the occasional gasp or murmured ‘fuck’, before he picked up the cock ring from his desk with his un-lubed hand. It was unfortunately that it was coated in silicone – Erik could only imagine how a metal cock ring would feel to him, how he would be able to sense Charles’s heat straining against it and every pleasured twitch of the man’s member as Erik touched him.

One day.

Charles slid the cock ring on, which would not only add to his pleasure, but help prolong his hard-on. When Charles turned the device on, the vibrations sending a jolt of pleasure up his spine, he let out a loud, drawn-out groan. Though the device was wrapped in silicone, there were still some metal fittings on the inside, and Erik could also feel the vibrations, making him have to bite his lip to remain silent.

“So good,” Charles dropped under his breath, the recorded soundwaves spiking before returning to the steady low-level rhythm of Charles’s breaths and moans. ‘I can see you palming yourself through your pants, darling. Are you hard? Dripping?’

‘Fucking sopping wet,’ Erik grumbled back mentally, Charles letting out a huff of a laugh, smiling. ‘And aren’t your listeners supposed to catch you in the act sometime soon?’

‘Mm, impatient,’ Charles purred into Erik’s mind, letting out a few more lewd moans as he did so. ‘Would you like to help me act that out? I’ve never had a co-star before.’

‘Gott, Charles,’ Erik groaned, unzipping his pants with his powers and pulling out his own dick, head already slick with pre-cum. He hadn’t lied – his briefs were sopping wet (again), and the sight of it made Charles let out a low “Mm, amazing” into the microphone. ‘What do you want me to do, Charles?’

‘Use your powers to open the door – try to make it loud, so the mic can pick up the sound,’ Charles said, Erik’s mouth quirking up, turned on but also a little amused. Charles bit back a laugh as well, just raising his brow at Erik as if he were saying ‘are you game?’ Erik just smirked, raising his unoccupied hand and twisting his wrist a little, the door to Charles’s bedroom opening loudly. Erik made sure to open the door hard enough so that it clunked against the door stop on the opposing wall, Charles smiling as he saw the spike in the recording soundwaves.

“Oh my God!” Charles suddenly exclaimed, his whole face showing the surprise he was acting through, blue eyes impossibly wide, though they sparkled with mirth at the situation. Erik had to cover his chuckle with his fist, eyes warm as they regarded Charles pretending to have been caught jerking off by his supposed roommate, friend and fictional lover. “What are you doing here? You said you wouldn’t be back until later, and don’t you know how to knock? What do you mean- I’m just- You- Close the door!”

Charles paused, pretending like his imaginary roommate was speaking. Erik stifled his laugh again, flicking his wrist to slam the bedroom door shut again.

‘What an adorably shocked roommate you are, Charles,’ Erik mentally projected, words light with amusement. Charles rolled his eyes a little at Erik after almost bursting out laughing.

‘Don’t spoil this for me, Erik,’ Charles said, sending his mental reply with a playful poke. ‘If you keep making me laugh, editing is going to be a nightmare.’

‘I’d rather be responsible for making you moan,’ Erik replied simply, gripping his cock and giving it two pumps up and down, licking his lips. Charles looked dazed for a moment, like the sight of Erik beginning to stroke himself was too much for him to compute. Charles’s mouth opened, but then he closed it again, eyes determined and decisive.

“Fuck the audio,” Charles suddenly said, struggling to wheel himself closer to the edge of the bed with his non-lubed hand, before parking it at his bedside.

“Yeah, fuck the audio,” Erik echoed, grinning with all of his teeth and leaning over to help haul the telepath onto the bed, kissing him with vigour. ‘Fuck me instead.’ Charles let out a desperate whimper as Erik’s tongue traversed his mouth, reaching down to flick his finger at Charles’s slick and engorged cock that hung stiffly from the opening of his trousers. The organ thrummed with the tremor of the cock ring, and Erik’s own moan was smothered by Charles’s tongue as he gripped Charles’s cock.

“I listened to your review of this,” Erik said, voice low as he pumped Charles’s cock, lingering on the cock ring around its base. Erik tugged on it with his powers. Charles gasped, gripping Erik’s shoulders tightly while the metallokinetic grinned, leaning down to Charles’s ear to nibble on his earlobe, murmuring quietly. “I’ve bought it and tried it myself. You were a very convincing sales rep, Charles.” With that, Erik swiped his thumb over Charles’s slit, the man lurching forwards, face buried in Erik’s neck, breath searing.

“You’re my number one fan, aren’t you?” Charles said, sliding his hands up Erik’s shirt, fingers casting lines of heat across Erik’s abdomen. The telepath’s hands started to bunch up the fabric in his fingers, before Erik helped him pull the fabric swiftly over his head, throwing it onto the ground.

“Your biggest fan,” Erik agreed, and Charles raised a brow, eyes immediately dipping down to Erik’s crotch.

“Mm. My biggest fan indeed,” Charles replied, Erik growling and kissing Charles again, fingers hastily unbuttoning the man’s crinkled white shirt. Soon, Charles’s shirt was also discarded atop Erik’s on the floor. Erik wasted no time getting his lips on Charles’s neck, collarbone, and shoulder, eventually wrapping his expert mouth around one of Charles’s peaked pink nipples.

“God, j-just-” Charles stammered, suddenly at a loss for words, at least audibly. ‘God, Erik. Did you mean it before? When you said that I should fuck you instead?’ Charles’s mental voice was a little frantic, laced with a hum of thick arousal that was almost painful.

“Fuck yes,” Erik said, removing his mouth from Charles’s chest and moving back up to kiss his lips, a little softer now. “I want that, as much as you do. Maybe even more.”

“I really doubt that, darling,” Charles laughed, breathless. ‘With the cock ring, I should be able to last… But fuck, we have to prep you first, Erik.’

“I can do that. Lube?” Erik breathed out, pupils blown. Charles told him he had another bottle in his side drawer, along with condoms. Erik threw Charles a condom, and the man rolled it over himself slowly, chewing on his reddened lower lip as he watched Erik kneel in front of him on the bed, drizzling a copious amount of lube onto his fingers.

Charles pulled himself up with his strong forearms to sit up with his back against the backboard like Erik had been doing earlier, hand slowly stroking his throbbing cock as he watched Erik reach back, fingers disappearing in an out of him.

Erik let out a gruff groan as he fingered himself quickly, wanting nothing more than to get Charles’s thick cock inside him. It was lucky for him that he had fingered himself in the shower the night before, so he wasn’t as tight as he would have usually been.

“You’re beautiful, Erik,” Charles whispered reverently as he watched Erik spread himself, two fingers disappearing in and out of him, soon turning into three. Erik leaned forward to kiss Charles again, the man’s hands looping around Erik’s neck to deepen the kiss.

“Fuck, Charles. I’m ready, I need your cock,” Erik mumbled, pulling his fingers out of him and lamenting the loss of the feeling of being filled – but not for long. Charles had nodded, pulling Erik closer and closer until the taller man straddled his motionless thighs, hand reaching between them to apply some more lube to Charles’s cock, before guiding it to his stretched hole.

Charles stopped breathing for a moment when he felt his sensitive head nudge at Erik’s rim. Charles and Erik stared at each other, Charles cupping Erik’s cheek and feeling the ginger stubble sprouting there. The two leaned forwards to meet in a sloppy kiss as Erik lowered himself down, Charles’s cock sliding in.

“Ohhh, fuck,” Erik groaned as Charles’s thickness filled him, stretching at his ass, hard and full and twitching. Charles just let out a choked noise, marvelling at how tight Erik felt around him.

“You feel so good, Erik,” Charles whimpered once he was fully sheathed inside Erik’s heat, hips flush. Erik couldn’t manage to say anything completely coherent, so he just grunted and began moving his hips. Charles moaned out loud and in Erik’s mind with every swivel and jerk of Erik’s hips as he rode him like it would be the last thing he ever did, and when Erik couldn’t hold back the cry as Charles’s cock brushed against his prostate, Charles almost came then and there.

‘If not for the cock ring…’ Charles’s mental voice crooned, strained and frazzled as his mind began to blank at the sensations Erik was drawing out of him.

“Can I take the cock ring off you now?” Erik groaned, the obscene slapping of their hips resonating through the air as Erik panted. “I’m gonna come, I want you to come with me. Inside me.”

“Yes,” Charles managed to get out, gripping Erik’s shoulder in a vice-like grip with one hand, the other fisting the bedsheets beneath him. “Yes, yes. I want that too, darling. Erik. Fuck. Fuck.”

‘You do tend to start swearing more when you’re getting closer to coming. I guess you never faked that in your audios,’ Erik said a little smugly as he pulled himself off Charles’s cock, but only so he could use his powers to pull the ring off Charles’s dick, the telepath almost sobbing at how it felt the moment Erik impaled himself on his cock again, riding him until they were both seconds away from coming.

“Fuck, fuck, yes, God, oh, yes, Erik,” Charles chanted, scrabbling at Erik’s shoulders and neck to pull him down into a messy, open-mouthed kiss that was as unravelled as the erratic movement of Erik’s hips, the metalbender teetering at the edge. The metal in Charles’s room began to hum inadvertently, Erik groaning into Charles’s mouth.

“I’m coming,” Erik grunted, Charles letting out a choked cry as he came at Erik’s words. It was that sound that pulled Erik over the edge as well, spilling white against his stomach as well as Charles’s.

Charles slid down from where he was sitting on the bed, Erik slumping heavily against him. They were both coated with a thin sheen of sweat, stomachs sticky with cum, hair mussed and lips bruised. Erik didn’t think he could move, his ass throbbing with a delicious ache that he hoped he would feel for a while after, the pang allowing him to remember how Charles felt inside him.

The two men lay there, completely fucked out, until Charles let out a light snort.

“Well, that audio is ruined. I can’t edit my way out of that,” Charles laughed, his words laboured as he struggled to catch his breath. Erik chuckled above him, pushing himself off Charles’s boneless form, his weight pressing down on him likely not helping his lungs at all. Erik did let his head rest on Charles’s rising and falling chest though, enjoying the thumping of the man’s heart beat beneath his ear. Charles chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of Erik’s slightly damp hair, before pausing.

‘What are you thinking about, Charles? I could tell that you had some sort of epiphany,’ Erik said, almost purring as Charles began to card his fingers through Erik’s locks.

“Instead of a regular roleplay audio, I could label it as an ‘overhead sex’ audio. I’d have to edit out our names and change the title of the video to something else first, of course,” Charles said, chuckling to himself at the idea. Erik hummed, questioning.

“So instead of ‘My super-hot roommate caught me jerking off so I let him ride me’ you’d name it…”

“My super-hot boyfriend walked in on me making an audio so I let him ride me,” Charles replied smoothly, Erik letting out a snort, pushing himself onto his elbows to look at Charles fondly.

“Sounds like something I’d listen to,” Erik said, Charles letting out a loud, eye-crinkling laugh, and Erik couldn’t be blamed for leaning down to kiss the adorable man breathless once again.

‘And ‘boyfriend’. I like the sound of that too.’

***

Erik ended up staying the night, much to Charles’s pleasure. Even though they had only met in person for the first time that day, it had felt like they had known each other for much longer than that. It wasn’t hard for Charles to begin imagining living days far into the future with Erik. Erik was everything Charles wanted, and he was so wonderful that Charles wondered if this was just one elaborate dream, and that the moment he would wake in the morning, Erik would be gone.

When Charles woke up, though, Erik’s arms were still draped around him loosely, sleeping quietly beside him. Charles’s heart swelled with happiness, relief and affection, curling the arm that was growing a little numb under Erik’s neck to card through the man’s hair.

Charles lay on his back, Erik’s head nestled into the crook of his neck and arm lying over his chest. Erik’s hair, mussed from sleep, tickled at the stubble growing on his Charles’s chin, and the telepath smiled to himself and nuzzled his face into Erik’s hair.

Charles felt Erik stir, the taller man releasing a groggy, sleep-laden groan.

“Good morning,” Charles said quietly, voice also rough with sleep. Erik blinked for a moment, grey eyes surveying his surroundings and for a brief second he seemed confused, before remembering where he was and smiling.

“Morning,” Erik said, shuffling in the bed so he straddled Charles’s thighs, sitting above him in all of his shirtless glory. Charles laughed, curling his finger in a movement to signal Erik to lean down and kiss him, which the metallokinetic did with relish.

“I could get used to waking up like this,” Charles murmured against Erik’s mouth, not minding the roughness of their shared stubble or the slight tang of morning breath.

“Don’t think I can get used to your morning breath, though,” Erik teased, Charles gasping in feigned offense and hitting Erik’s chest, the man laughing. Erik moved to kiss Charles again, but Charles refused, shoving at Erik’s chest with a smile, saying that ‘if you’re bothered by morning breath, then no more morning kisses for you’. Charles only relented when Erik took back his words with a slight pout, feeling lighter than he had in a long time.

They had spent most of that morning and afternoon in bed, only getting out to have lunch and watch a movie together, before Erik left for his shift at the late-night café. Charles ended up joining him at his work at around nine, and Erik felt that his job had never been less tedious with Charles there, not when he would come by the telepath’s table near the counter to refill his tea, sneaking in a kiss or two every time.

That day had been the beginning of a series of days and weeks that soon became a month and then two. Considering the two men had fallen for each other just by messaging through an audio porn app, it came as no surprise to anyone that they became attached to the hip from that day on.

Erik began spending a lot of his down time at Charles’s apartment, much to the displeasure of Raven, who had walked in on them sucking face more often than she would have liked. It wasn’t that Raven wasn’t happy for her brother. She was, even if every time she would catch her brother staring down at a message Erik with the goopiest, most syrupy smile she had ever seen she would make loud gagging noises, which Charles adamantly ignored, too wrapped up in thoughts of Erik to care.

They made the most out of their free time during the summer break; since Charles didn’t have any TA work, he had an ample amount of time to spend with Erik, as well as create more audios. Erik had begun to sit in on some of Charles’s recording sessions, Charles often having to pause the recording to release the pent-up tension in the room. Erik was distracting, especially when Charles could see him palming himself on his bed in the corner of his eye as he recorded. Recording took a lot, lot longer, but Charles’s fans have noted that his work has been much hotter lately.

Erik usually dedicated his days to spending time with Charles, not only because listening to him record audios was the second most erotic thing to exist (after actually having sex with Charles, of course), but to also just relax in Charles’s company. Contrary to Raven and Emma’s beliefs, when Charles and Erik were alone, they didn’t just spend their time fucking each other (though that did take up a significant fraction of their time, much to their delight and their friends’ exasperation). Charles and Erik, more often than not, just enjoyed each other’s company.

They played chess, watched terrible rom-coms while Erik mocked the blundering couples, read books with their legs draped over each other on the couch, or simply just lay in bed and talked.

Charles often caught himself thinking ‘is this really my life, now?’. It would hit him at random times, sparked by the most innocuous of things. Sometimes, it would wash over him when he watched Erik’s back as the man loomed over his low cooktop, flipping pancakes for the two of them dressed in nothing but a pair of low-slung grey sweatpants. Or, it would be when Erik would come back to his apartment after his shift at midnight with a box of leftover cake tucked under his arm, the man kicking off his shoes and dropping a kiss to the top of Charles’s head before asking if he wanted the chocolate mousse cake or the lemon tart.

Other times, it would be when they were having sex, and Erik would undo him with his hands and tongue and cock, taking more care than anyone ever before, and giving Charles a smug ‘yeah, I did that’ grin afterwards. And then, there were the times when he would just catch Erik staring at him, a small smile on his face that matched the one on Charles’s whenever he caught himself thinking ‘is this really my life, now?’.

Charles knew what that smile of Erik’s meant, because he has found it on his face far too many times to count.

It’s a ‘God, this is my life now’ smile mixed with an ‘I’m so lucky to have met you’ look.

Or, in simpler terms – an ‘I love you’ smile.

That was something Charles never really said in his audios, because it was something he reserved for Erik, and Erik alone. And when he would whisper it into Erik’s ear and Erik’s mind, Charles would feel the surge of love pulsing through Erik, the man whispering it straight back into his heart.

#cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #xmen #xmen fic #professor x #magneto #smut #modern au #audioporn #raven darkholme #emma frost #x-men

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

young starker growing up together - maybe their first kiss?

ask prompts 

young starker - a fumbly first kiss

~5.8k words 

It all started in eighth grade. Tony Stark had always been the freaky genius kid. It didn’t take long for the school system to realize that the boy would do nothing but cause trouble anywhere but with people that were close to his mental abilities. At seven, it felt almost neglectful to throw him into the high school crowd – so Tony joined the ranks of eighth graders after a summer spent at space camp. 

He didn’t realize the big deal until he walked into the front doors of the school – this one a little different than the private school he’d been in before. He immediately felt like a shrimp in the bunch and it was obvious that everyone else noticed it, too. The cosmic joke of the day is the top shelf locker – one he has to stand on his very tiptoes to reach. The slam of the damn thing was insanely satisfying, though he didn’t dump his backpack in there like he originally planned. Oh well – what was another thing to carry around? Maybe he could use it as protection when the inevitable bullying came his way.

With the paper schedule clutched between his fingers, Tony walked into his homeroom class – all eyes in the room trained on him. He’d been taught to keep his head held high – his intelligence wasn’t a burden – Tony looked around the room at all the people staring him and immediately noticed a kid that looked almost as small as he was. The boy was amongst the group staring at him – but the look didn’t say disdain, instead, it seemed like he’d finally run into someone that just might be his equal. The only seat was in the corner of the room, a spot that would make seeing the board hard and observing the interesting kid even harder. There wasn’t much time to dwell, though. They immediately started into Algebra II and Tony ducked his head down, completely absorbed in the numbers running through his head.

At lunch, Tony almost chickened out and spent the time spread out on one of the benches he passed on his way into the building earlier that day. The math homework was already done in his backpack, but there were plenty of chapters for him to look over. A thought had him stopping, however – those big doe eyes of the only person Tony saw the entire day that looked remotely close to his age intriguing him. Maybe the lunchroom would be a good place to spot him again.

Reluctantly, Tony steered himself towards where the majority of the classmates he recognized were heading. There wouldn’t be any room at any of the cool tables for Tony – he already knew that. People didn’t like to be outsmarted by someone so young, especially, he found, people that were uncertain of their own intelligence – like most teenagers he was surrounded by. Steeling himself to be the main topic of people’s stares once again, Tony walked into the lunchroom.

Spotting an empty table, Tony took himself to it. It was closer to the back – which meant it probably didn’t attract the people who wanted to be front and center. Maybe, just maybe, he’d picked where that boy sat. A peanut butter sandwich Tony packed himself joined the Sherlock Holmes novel on the table – the boy a master at fading into the background now that he knew how precious anonymity actually was. He was so good in fact, he jumped with surprise when the clatter of a lunch tray sounded next to him. Tony forced his glasses covered eyes up from the page – Watson’s latest quip on hold for a moment. Brown eyes widened when he recognized the messy curls and round nose from class that morning. 

“You’re the only other young person like me I’ve ever seen here,” the boy said, his fingers already working on opening the chocolate milk carton all the way – the chicken nuggets on his plate immediately getting dropped in.

“I am?” Tony asked, his eyes pinching slightly at the corners, his tongue sticking out. “Did you just put chicken nuggets in chocolate milk?” Tony felt exasperated, his stomach and heart in a frenzy. The boy shrugged and shook the carton up. 

“You are. I’m Peter Parker. They said it was weird that a seven-year-old was in eighth grade. So, when I saw you, I figured maybe it’s not so weird after all. And yes – it is chicken nuggets in milk. It’s delicious. You can’t knock it until you try it. Who are you, anyway? How’d you end up here?” Peter – the nameless boy from earlier now affectionately labeled Peter – said without pause, his focus split between the conversation and the chocolate milk-soaked nuggets. The boy spooned one out and placed it on the empty bag that used to house Tony’s sandwich.

Tony eyed the thing for a second before quickly taking a large bite. He figured it would be gross – but then the combined sweet and salty hit his taste buds and he grinned. “That is really good. Gross to look at, but tasty. I’m Tony Stark. I ended up here because I was bored in the school I used to go to. I was getting into too much trouble. I need more – stimulus or something. I guess a room full of teenagers is the perfect amount.” Tony shrugged and finished off the weird chicken nugget, his eyes on Peter.

He hadn’t met anyone so forward before, especially someone that was his own age. “Should we be friends?” Tony asked seriously, his shoulder bumping into the boy next to him. “I used to get beat up a lot at my old school. We could protect each other, or become a tag team.” Tony didn’t really understand the connection he was making in that moment – didn’t quite get that they were creating a lifelong and unbreakable bond. Neither boy did, how could they? How many lunchroom pacts actually manifested into literal lifetimes together?

The boy’s smile widened when Peter nodded his head and looked at him seriously. “Yes, we should. You’re totally right. Sherlock had Watson after all,” Peter replied, his fingers tapping on the cover of Tony’s book. He was smart and knew about Alfred Conan Doyle? He was sure, probably for the first time ever, he’d never met another person like this boy. Tony nodded and held his hand out between them – he remembered his father saying that a deal wasn’t done until there’d been a handshake.

It was satisfying to feel the slightly sticky hand in his own – Tony’s first official friend and fellow comrade. Strength was always greater in numbers – his father told him that, too. Although the man seemed to like to spend more time by himself than with others, Tony figured he had to be right – the instant amount of comfort having Peter agree to be his friend had to mean something.

They spent the rest of that lunch period sharing soggy chicken nuggets and talking about A Study in Scarlett. Tony devoured each of the stories and was making his way what felt like the hundredth time through the book. By then, no one around him wanted to hear him talk about it anymore. Peter did, though – and their conversations easily transitioned into playdates where they’d try to reenact some of the cases. Tony didn’t mind playing Watson, either – which seemed like something he thought he’d never do. When he read the books, he always thought he’d be Sherlock. Yet, when Pete led their investigations, it was just as fun to be the pretend brute force that kept the genius safe. He figured Peter looked better in the old-timey hat, anyway.

Those playdates easily became sleepovers. Late nights together were filled with way too much sugar and hours upon hours of video games – the two staying up so late most weekends that the emptiness of the house on Sundays for Tony was a relief. He got to sleep after Peter’s Aunt May came to pick him up – and then they’d start the cycle all over again. They were quickly getting lost in the magic of online gaming on the state-of-the-art systems Tony’s dad bought when he first heard about his son having a friend over.

The novel concept of online was quickly starting to catch on – and Peter and Tony were avid partakers of it. Most of the time, having a dad that owned a company that was constantly in the news and being talked about for this and that was a little exhausting – but the strength of the internet and the access to all the components of the games they were playing was a definite bonus. Especially when Peter smiled at him while they were playing. A strange feeling settled in the pit of Tony’s stomach every time that happened.

By the end of the year, Peter and Tony were inseparable. When Tony turned eight right before they went into high school together, he and Peter went to Disneyland with the Stark family. He hadn’t been into Disney movies much growing up – they weren’t really anything that interested him. Without explosions or cool cars or really awesome weapons, it was hard to keep Tony’s attention – but Buzz Lightyear in person was pretty hard to not be impressed by. Especially when he took a picture with him and Peter with their arms flexed like strong men – he and his best friend had both puffed up their chests and let out a guttural cry.

Their smiles stayed huge the rest of that day – the two of them playing the horse racing carnival game until they each won one of the little robot stuffed animals. Jeff and Charles (or more affectionately known as Chuck, Tony’s pal couldn’t be *that* stuffy), their newly won friends, rode the rest of the rides with them and when they were sleepily carried back to the hotel, they were nestled safely in the depths of Maria Starks big purse.

Tony kept the robot and a copy of the Buzz Lightyear picture by his bed at night, immediately putting them there when they got home. Any time he got a little scared or couldn’t sleep because there was too much in his head, he’d look over and remember the day they spent wrapped up in the joy of being in the middle of space with a hero – even a made up one.

The next few sleepovers they had after they got back were filled with as many Disney movies as they could get their hands on. Tony’s dad laughed when Tony requested the use of a VCR – but he granted it with ease and watched with a keen sense of interest as the two boys devoured all the classics – Snow White and Sleeping Beauty included. Their play time moved from strictly robots and war planes to include some of the aspects of the great movie plots they watched. Tony wouldn’t admit it, but he liked when Peter played Prince Charming – his friend was perfect for the part, and though Tony didn’t have Cinderella’s life, he never minded playing her. The soft kiss on the cheek Peter took to giving him when he eventually matched Tony’s Nike to his foot was always worth it.

School starting again didn’t feel nearly as daunting for Tony – this year, he’d be entering into it with a buddy by his side – a buddy that was taking all of the same classes as him, a buddy that would be a perfect lab partner and the best person to navigate the high school hallways with. The strange looks they both received when they walked in together were a little easier to handle when Tony could look over his shoulder and see Peter attempting to keep his head held high – maybe if they stuck together, they’d make it out alive.

Tony never felt intimidated outside of the school’s walls – out in the open, people could appreciate intelligence like Tony and Peter both had. After getting back from vacation, Tony’s dad even let them spend time in the Stark Industries labs where they helped a couple of the technicians finish a project they were working on. Those guys seemed to be really impressed by how quickly they worked through the problem – why couldn’t the rest of the world?

Either way, Tony felt more prepared this time around. Though he’d still be the youngest person in their class, the concreteness of Peter’s presence made him feel bigger and stronger than any of the people that might give either of them a hard time.

If Buzz Lightyear approved of them, did anyone else really matter?

----

Things started to change right around the end of high school. For most humans, entering into the adult world happened when a person was an actual adult – but for Tony and thankfully Peter, they were entering into the next step of the world before turning 13. The high school experience was much like the rest of school – pretty boring, quite the time suck, and a little on the terrible side. Tony didn’t spend a lot of time on the receiving end of things that were terrible – he learned early that using his fists was a good way to get people to back down.

Even if the guys were bigger than him, Tony found a way to make sure he was understood. No, most of the terrible stuff happened to Pete and although Tony could throw his fists around for himself, he’d been banned from doing it to protect his best friend. Getting into MIT was the dream and had been since they started high school all that time ago. They already threatened to take back Tony’s acceptance if he had anymore behavioral problems and Peter made it pretty clear that he’d be pretty pissed if he got himself kicked out of MIT before they even got there.

So, Tony did what he could without the use of his fists. Anytime Flash would corner Peter in the hall and start to call him ‘Penis Parker’, Tony swooped in and slipped his arm through Pete’s – the contact with the boy never failed to make him happy, either. “Peter, dear – I think we’re scheduled to blow something up. Shall we?” Tony would joke and Peter always pulled his hand in a little tighter against him. Taking off in the other direction always threw Flash right off. The older boy would taunt and tease until they were out of sight and then they’d take off running down the hall – both boys laughing, the adrenaline of outsmarting someone once again fueling their fire.

Tony’s actions never stopped Peter from getting picked on – he figured he’d have to fix the problem the old Tony Stark way for that to happen. But – Peter always smiled at him gratefully. If only that smile could cure all the things, Tony wouldn’t have to worry about Peter’s safety or how much he wanted Peter to let him take care of it for him. It’d be so easy. No matter how much he wanted to, though – Tony respected Peter. They’d been friends now for what practically felt like their whole lives, he owed him at least that.

One particular event later in their senior year hit the shuffle button on their relationship and fixed the course of where they were going in life together. Up until the mention of prom, Tony hadn’t really thought about feelings. Most kids his age were just stepping into the stage of development where hormones were running rampant – they were set up in a place where exploring those hormones was expected, if not encouraged. Being so young, Tony never paid any of the couples attention in the halls. Sometimes, he and Peter would go down the rows of lockers they knew people were making out against just to point and laugh (because they were pre-teens, after all.)

So, he’d never given much thought to why all of the people around him were always crazed out of their minds, desperate to get their hands on another human being. Until, of course – he saw Peter’s eyes light up across the table from him. For a while, that look gave him the weirdest feeling in the pit of his stomach and he didn’t really understand it. He complained to his mom about it a couple of times – she merely brushed it off as a stomachache and sent him on his way.

Looking over his shoulder to where Peter’s eyes were focused, he understood the feeling a little more. Two guys, the only out couple in their school, were wrapped up in a hug together – one of them, Steve Rogers, was holding a huge balloon and the cheesiest sign Tony figured he’d ever seen. The public prom proposal – a high school cliché. Yet, he felt himself smiling widely, too. Their embrace looked warm from where Tony sat, and their faces depicted so much happiness. That warm feeling in the pit of his stomach came back – his entire core on fire now, not just the middle of it.

Turning back towards Peter, he knocked his hand against the other’s. “They look good together, don’t they?” Tony posed the question casually – though he felt that heat in his insides start to clench, like the answer to this question would be the difference between a complete take over or a total system shut down. Peter’s smile made his toes curl in his shoes – what in the actual heck was happening? And the touch against his arm? He might’ve melted right then and there. 

“Yeah, they do. Prom looks like it might be fun, too.” 

Their eyes met then, and something clicked. Tony sucked in a breath like he’d been knocked on his ass and blinked quickly. “I think so, too.”

And that’s when Tony started to plan.

He still didn’t really understand what the heat he felt every time he looked at Peter meant. They’d been friends since eighth grade and spent most of the days since then together in some way, shape, or form. Getting to spend time with Peter made him happy and when they weren’t together, he anticipated the next time they were. He thought, because that’s what people always called them, that’s what being best friends felt like.

For some reason, though – he couldn’t get the thought of pulling Peter into a hug like Steve and Bucky’s out of his head. They’d given each other tons of hugs before – he’d been there when Peter broke his wrist and cried the entire walk home – Tony hugged him and kept him close the whole time. It didn’t make sense, but – there was a difference. Tony could feel it in his very bones and there weren’t many times his instincts weren’t right. The rotary tool on the front of their robot the previous year had won them the gold at National’s, after all.

Being confused didn’t stop Tony from plotting, though. He used the freedom of having parents that were never around to go through his dad’s lab and collect the necessary tools for his idea. He spent most of his study hall period putting together a rough drawing of the puzzle he was going to build – so the preliminary steps were easy. Over the years, Tony picked up many skills with the welding torch – the puzzle’s manufacturing wasn’t too complicated once he got the pieces put together. He ran into a hitch when one of the pieces wouldn’t open like the rest of them – but he quickly caught the issue in the math and fixed the problem.

The finished product sat before him a few hours after he sat down to put it together, the light from the daytime completely gone – he’d worked the whole day away. Sitting down for the first time in a while, Tony picked up the cube – his eyes roaming over it critically. His confidence in Peter’s intelligence made choosing something like this perfect and he couldn’t wait to see what the other made of it. Tony didn’t really know what this would mean for them, but he liked the way it felt.

It took him a couple of days to work up the courage to break into Peter’s locker and put the cube where he could find it. The first day, he over thought it and almost took the cube apart completely. The next day, he put it in his backpack – and never found an opportune time to actually take it out or do anything productive with it. The turning point came when his mom found him slumped over his porcelain bowl filled with cold Spaghetti-o’s. “Amore, what are you doing?” Maria said, the words startling Tony from his reverie.

He must’ve been sitting there much longer than he figured – his mother didn’t normally get home until well into the evening. The spoon in his hand clattered against the bowl as he turned, his brows creased. “How do you know if something is right, ma? There’s something I want to do, but I can’t decide if I should or not.” The words were out before he could take them back, his face immediately turning red with embarrassment. Did other kids have conversations like this with their mothers? Biting down on his lip, Tony grabbed the spoon again – the metal of it now completely covered in the orangey-red sauce.

“Does it feel right, bambino? If it does, that’s your first clue. You want to do it, so there’s another check off the list. Tony, the fact that you’re so worried about it probably says the most about how right it really is. Take a deep breath and really think. You’ll always do the right thing that way.” She leaned against the counter next to him while she spoke, her critical eyes watching him. For such a smart boy, there was still so much to learn.

Tony met her look for a second and then nodded – his hands pushing him away from the counter before his brain to mouth filter broke down once again. “Thanks, ma. I think that helps.” Before running away, he pressed a kiss to the side of her cheek. Of the two of his parents, Tony could see his mom try the most, so he let her in every now and again. He waited until he was far enough away from the kitchen not to be caught before he let a huge smile slip across his face. Her advice really was helpful after all.

The next day, Tony had Phil drop him off a few minutes earlier than usually. Luckily, Peter’s Aunt May was working the later shift and could take Peter to school – or else his plan would have been a little harder to execute. The need to break into Pete’s locker was moot, they’d been the sole guardian of each other’s lock combinations since they first walked down the Wal Mart aisles and picked them out. He spun the dial in the intricate pattern and let out a little noise of joy when it clicked open – the simple fact that Peter still trusted him was enough to make his decision feel a million times righter.

Placing the cube on the shelf right in Peter’s line of vision, Tony quickly shut it – if he looked at the thing for too long, he might reach back in and pull it out. As fast as the lock was opened, it was once again in place – waiting for Peter to open it himself and find the little prize inside. Sucking in a breath, Tony forced himself to turn and walk the other direction down the hall. He figured Peter would find him in the library like always when he got in for the day.

The door opened not even ten minutes later, and a flustered Peter Parker walked in. “I hate riding in with May, Tony. She’s always running late and makes me eat those super nasty bran muffins. Also, did you put this in my locker?” Peter asked breathlessly, the cube held tightly in his hand. He’d already started working on one of the four side panels – each would open to show the elaborate design he’d etched into the metal. Tony looked up and blinked behind his glasses – the slightly scattered look on his friend making that heat come back, this time with a vengeance.

It felt like a straight punch to the gut and he found himself smiling through it – the wild greatness of it something Tony wanted to get used to. “I told you that Phil and I were in the neighborhood. You know how much riding in with May means to her, though. She’s always complaining about how much she’s working and never getting to see you. And yes, yes, I did. You’ve got to solve all of the puzzles to get it open.” Tony’s smile stretched further, his words making a mischievous look flit through Peter’s eyes.

By lunch time, Tony was bouncing his leg nervously. He made each of the puzzles just hard enough to keep Peter on his toes – and he figured the other would be done with each by now. The small glimpses he could see of the boy across the room made his heart flutter a bit – Peter was hard at work on the second side, a tongue hanging out the edge of his mouth. Their last class right before lunch was the only one they didn’t have together – so Tony was feeling a little antsy. He even stood in the line to buy a gross school lunch to pass the time. They were serving chicken nuggets, though – so he couldn’t be too mad about it. Grabbing an extra chocolate milk for Pete, Tony made his way towards the table they’d been sitting at together for ages – their corner spot always left for them. No one wanted to sit with the weirdo geniuses, anyway. A smile slipped across his face when he looked up on his way over and saw Peter sitting in his normal spot, a Nutella and peanut butter sandwich already securely in his hand.

“Hey Petey,” Tony said in greeting. The other boy looked up at him and grinned, that same look of mischief on his face from before. 

“Hey, Tones. You were pretty clever with that last one. I didn’t get that I needed to press up with the one I solved before to get the final piece to fit. Ms. Russo almost caught me.” Peter’s words were coming a mile a minute, his glasses moving down his nose every time he moved a hand while he spoke. 

Without thought, Tony reached over and pushed them back up Pete’s nose. Whatever was on the boy’s tongue quickly faded away and they were suddenly staring right at each other.

There were a few seconds where they simply looked, Tony’s eyes were roaming all over Pete’s face – the boy desperate to understand what in the actual fuck was happening. Another heartbeat thumped against Tony’s chest, the pulse like the ticking of a clock. “Do you want to?” Tony finally spoke out, his eyes breaking away from Peter’s to glance down at the open cube – the panels each had a couple parts of ‘will you go to prom with me?’ on them, each with a different design he etched into the metal to make the whole thing a cohesive, kind of abstract piece of nerdy art.

Peter picked up the solve puzzle and ran his fingertips gently over it – the touch like one would place upon a small puppy or something that was fragile. That smile that sent warm trails of heat into his core lit up Peter’s face and then the boy was nodding – his cheeks a pink Tony only ever saw when they were in gym class or playing space aliens throughout the SI labs.

“Yeah, I do. I really do. People will probably think it’s weird that we’re there, but I couldn’t imagine going with anyone else. Do you think we could find suits like the ones in Dumb and Dumber?” Tony didn’t try to stop the snort of laughter that bubbled up from his chest – the thought of a powder blue top hat on Peter’s head making his heart ache with that warmth. How the hell could he say no to that? 

“That’ll be the way to be remembered. I’m in. I bet we can get Maria to take us to the tailor. I bet Francisco would have a blast putting those together.”

And when they took pictures together in their powder blue and bright orange tuxedos, Tony couldn’t help but smile his biggest smile. Peter looked ridiculous and totally awesome – he’d let his hair grow a little bit, so it pressed down and curled under the brim of the hat. Together, they looked insane and completely perfect to represent who they’d been throughout their years in high school. The weird kids – the ones that were always together, the ones that no one understood and probably never would. His mom sent him a shot she took on her phone while they lounged in the back of the limo – the sight made him wrap an arm around Peter and shove the phone between them.

“Do we look good, or what?” Tony asked, his stomach filled to the brim with pressure and heat and the slightest bit of pain from laughing too much.  They were back to back, each with a cane in their hand. Their heads were turned towards each other – both boys smiling. Tony could see the brightness in his own eyes, his pupils blown wide from excitement. What surprised him, though, was the same brightness in Pete’s eyes. It was like maybe – well, maybe he wasn’t the only one constantly sitting with a pool of heat in his belly.

The rest of the night together went in typical Peter and Tony fashion. They fucked around with the canes and photo bombed a few too many pictures before settling down and grabbing some punch. Tony took the top hat from his head and wiped at his brow – the thing was cool, but so, so hot. His hair was matted down a little bit and for the first time in probably ever, he worried about whether Peter would mind. Shaking his head, Tony forced himself to focus and downed the punch the other boy handed him.

“Did you see how mad Natasha looked? I hope Clint will send me a copy of the end result of that,” Peter muttered, the noticeable shine in his eye still there, brighter than ever. Tony felt himself laugh; his cheeks irritated from being stuck in a smile for so long. 

“I bet I can get them if he doesn’t. You know as well as I do that the school’s server isn’t very secure. I think we’re lucky we didn’t get our asses kicked, though. Bruce looked like he wanted to punch you in the face but also like he wanted to laugh his ass off.” They were leaned against each other, Peter’s random wandering leading them to the edge of the dance floor into their usual corner.

Of course, the second they started to relax, a slow song started to play. They’d abandoned hats and canes in the corner with their punch glasses and were stupidly dancing to all of the dumb pop songs. Tony couldn’t remember the last time he watched Peter move in any other way than gracefully. He didn’t talk about it much, but Tony knew Peter took dance lessons once a week. A Christmas tradition in the Stark household included watching Peter in The Nutcracker and eating hibachi afterwards to celebrate. Peter looked seamless when he moved, even the choppy way he was slinging his shoulders here and there looked good.

And that’s when it hit him – what the feeling he’d been troubling over actually meant. Peter looked good. He made Tony’s heart race. Tony always felt better in Peter’s presence. All of the sudden, he wanted to lean forward and press his lips against his best friend’s. Tony liked Peter. In the purest of ways, Tony wanted Peter. And, like the stupid person he was, Tony let that sudden realization run straight from his brain out into the open air between them. “I like you, Peter. I really, really like you,” Tony’s voice was a little loud to be heard over the music – but he felt like he shouted those words, like everyone now knew his secret.

Blushing, Tony brought a hand to his forehead and let his fingers run through the sweaty hair there. “I mean – I “ Tony tried to stumble into some sort of explanation, but it was unneeded. 

Peter grabbed the wrist of the hand currently trying to pluck all the hairs out of the front of Tony’s head and held it tightly in his own. “I like you, too. You made me a puzzle. You asked me to prom. I figured it out, Tony. I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t like you, too. You’re my best friend – I’m not going to screw that up.”

Tony’s sweaty palm couldn’t have been comfortable to hold, but Peter didn’t let it go and after a minute or two – Tony nodded, his smile returning. “Want to dance with me, then? I’ll probably step on your toes, though.” 

Peter didn’t answer, he simply pulled Tony’s hands to his waist. “This one is easy, you just kind of shuffle. And hold me close. Don’t forget to do that,” Peter mumbled, his own smaller arms reaching up to wrap around Tony’s neck. They probably looked ridiculous, the insanity of Dumb and Dumber, of young pre-teens in a crowd of soon to be adults – hell, their entire existence was a little ridiculous.

Before the song shifted, Tony leaned forward and let his forehead rest against Peter’s. For now, they were right around the same height – so Peter’s breath brushed against his nose. It smelt like fruit punch and chocolate, a combination of things that were distinctly Peter. The natural way they fell into their first kiss made them both jump back in surprise – Tony’s eyes were wide, and Peter looked comically taken aback. Watching Peter reach up and touch his lip was enough to make it real, though. “Wow,” he mumbled softly, eyes still firmly watching Peter and the many reactions manifesting themselves so prettily.

When they came out of the gym later hand-in-hand, May didn’t say a thing. Tony caught her smiling to herself in the mirror and felt that warmth in his core blossom a little bit. Maybe there was more to that feeling than he first thought.

#starker #peter parker/tony stark #tony stark/peter parker #tony #peter #ironspider #ask prompts #asks #answered #bobbie writes #Anonymous

[minervacasterly]

~No Other Way: Mary’s Failed Escape Attempt~

As things between Lady Mary and her half-brother, King Edward VI got progressively worse, her imperial cousin, Charles V took action. He sent imperial ships that were disguised as merchant ships to England. The plan was to take her away from England and use her as a figurehead to intimidate Edward VI and his council. However, like every other escape plans, these failed.

“On the evening of Monday, 30 June 1550, three imperial warships arrived off the coast of Essex. Further out to sea, they were supported by four larger vessels. This little fleet, commanded by the Dutchman Cornelius Scepperus, had encountered a flat calm. The next day one of the ships made its way to Stansgate and a small boat, with two men in it, rowed ashore. They claimed to be grain merchants and took with them a sample of their corn, but when they got ashore they found things unnervingly quiet. There was no one to meet them and they were obliged to return to their ship without having spoken to any local people. They had, however, been observed, and by quizzical eyes. People living around about, especially in the small port of Maldon at the head of the Blackwater estuary, knew of the rumors and wondered about the true motives of these Flemings who had materialized overnight. They were not convinced that the grain vessel was alone or that it had become with innocent intent. Though there was a long history of problems with Scottish pirates plundering the imperial merchant fleet, which might explain the need for an adequately defended ship, something about this vessel seemed wrong. The real purpose, they feared, was altogether more sinister. Nearby at Woodham Walter the Lady Mary had been in residence since early May. Her confrontation with the government was well known and the possibility of her attempting to flee England had been all the talk in this part of Essex for weeks. It was hard to keep anything secret in a large household, where people came and went and not everyone was trustworthy, even if they seemed devoted. Yet few people could have anticipated quite how the enterprise would finally be abandoned. The saga of Mary’s abortive attempt to escape from England to what she hoped would be a secure haven in the Low Countries was well documented at the time. It has elements of almost surreal comedy: disguises, frantic attempts to keep something secret of which the authorities were well aware and the final, complete deflation of Mary’s refusal to seize the chance when offered. At its heart was a troubled woman under severe strain, who entertained the fantasy that creeps into the minds of many people who are stressed almost beyond their mental resources–that running away offers a simple solution to all their difficulties. It is less the act itself which matters, more its contemplation. Perhaps this explains the contradictory nature of Mary’s behaviour in the summer of 1550. A woman who had shown remarkable fortitude over so many years could not, for a time, cope with yet another assault. To call this weakness would be a harsh judgement of Mary, who could not forget the past … Charles V also thought long and hard about whether, in agreeing to Mary’s repeated requests that he should furnish her with a means of escape, he was doing the right thing. As always with the emperor, his doubts about the wisdom of the enterprise were partly inspired by an uneasiness about whether he would actually be doing his cousin a service and partly overshadowed by political considerations. Aside from the hazardous nature of getting her away by ship, once gone she became financially dependent on him and could not serve his purpose by acting as the rallying force of principled opposition in England. He was also preoccupied with his preparations for leaving Brussels, which he did at the end of May, to go and take up residence at Augsburg. Ill and unhappy, beset with costly wars and rebellious subjects, this weary man who was losing his grip on his vast empire must have found Mary’s troubles little more than a minor irritation. His instinct, and his instructions to Van der Delft, pointed towards calming Mary down and persuading her to temporise. Eventually, he reluctantly agreed to help her. The plan for Mary’s flight was put together over a two-month period between May and July 1550 and the princess was very much its moving force. She had convinced herself that not just her religion but her life was in danger. This was the answer she gave to Van der Delft, when he pointed out to her that, if the king died, her absence could deprive her of the crown and would probably ensure the triumph of religious change for good: ‘If my brother were to die, I should be far better out of the kingdom; because as soon as he were dead, before the people knew it, they would despatch me too; there is no doubt of that, because you know that there is nobody about the king’s person or in the government who is not inimical to me.’ The problem with following the emperor’s advice on temporising was that her own, grim experience told her quite the reverse: ‘I fear I may tarry too long,’ she said. ‘When they send me orders forbidding me the mass, I shall expect to suffer as I suffered once during my father’s lifetime; they will order me to withdraw thirty miles from any navigable river or sea-port, and will deprive me of my confidential servants, and, having reduced me to the utmost destitution, they will deal with me as they please. But I will rather suffer death than stain my conscience.’ Her suspicion of the council was profound. They were ‘wicked and wily in their actions and particularly malevolent towards me’ … Mary had given some thought to the details of her escape. Van der Delft acknowledged that the first plan developed was Mary’s idea and he believed it could be made to work. Or perhaps it would be truer to say that he hoped it would work, because it relieved him of involvement, and the thought that he might be compromised alarmed him. Like Mary, he had a regard for his own personal security and that of his family. His desire to be of service to the princess was tinged with growing anxiety, especially as he was ill and arrangements were already in hand for him to leave England himself. The essence of Mary’s scheme was that she should be as close to the sea as possible, to facilitate her escape by water … Royal lady as she was, Mary did not initially contemplate going alone. She wanted with her ‘four of her ladies whom she trusts more than the rest’ (interesting to note that she evidently had reservations about some of them) plus Rochester himself and two unnamed gentlemen, one of whom was ‘very rich but would willingly give up all that he possesses to follow my lady to a place of safety’. Apart from these people, Mary would take nothing with her ‘except her rings and jewels. The plate she uses belongs to the king,’ wrote the ambassador, ‘as, I suppose the tapestries and other furniture do.’ Van der Delft said that no one apart from himself, his secretary and Rochester knew of the princess’s plan. Whether that was true or not, it involved too many people to be practical. Then the possibility of a boat being procured in England evaporated. The month of May came and went with Mary still in Essex and still exhorting the ambassador and his master to help her leave. Matters stalled when the government introduced restrictions on all movements at night, so that ‘no roads or crossroads, no harbours or creeks, nor any passage or outlet’ escaped the vigilance of ‘good folk who had something to lose’. This was a reference to the possibility of further summer uprisings like those of the preceding year, but a secondary motive for the council may have been to restrict Mary and frustrate her possibility of flight. The plan that was finally put into action took shape after Charles V had left Brussels and was approved by him on 25 June. Its driving force may have been his sister, Mary of Hungary, the regent of the Low Countries, who was more inclined to make decisions and take action. She also wanted to ensure that any repercussions were minimised, particularly in the event of failure. This meant waiting until Van der Delft had left, so he could not be implicated, and it also required that his successor, Jehan Scheyfve, a man of whom the regent did not think much, was kept completely in the dark. Thus it fell to Jehan Dubois, secretary to the imperial embassy in London, to take on the burden of managing the revised escape plan. He was more than equal to the task; in fact, he carried out his part of it in exemplary fashion. But it did not succeed. The emperor foresaw difficulties when he gave his sister his guarded approbation. All concerned should be aware of the need for flexibility and not try ‘to reckon the thing too exactly from day to day, as if the sea were a fixed and invariable factor, permitting such undertakings as may be carried out on land’. He thought that there was inevitably some danger and that speed was vital, or the details might leak out. ‘As for disguising our cousin,’ he wrote, ‘I will leave that to those in charge … but no disguise need be used as to whether or not I knew of the undertaking, and it will be better to be quite open about it … for we have the best of reasons and have done all we could to protect our cousin’s person and conscience … and holding back as long as possible from this extreme measure, which it has now become imperative to resort to because of the attitude adopted in England.’ Charles was evidently not given to cloak-and-daggery and he was determined to put the blame on Edward’s councillors. He was more concerned that the pursuit of Scottish pirates, the pretext for his ships being in English waters, could lead to difficulties if the ambassadors expected from Scotland at any time arrived in Brussels before the ships set sail. In the event, none of the difficulties foreseen by Charles V happened. The reason Mary did not leave was straightforward. She had changed her mind. Or, put another way, when faced, at last, with the opportunity to go, she could not bring herself to do it.“

As before, Mary was faced with a difficult choice. She could have left and enjoy moments of bliss. But these would pass in time. She probably remembered the lessons in history. Although she had the fighting spirit of her Trastamara grandparents and Tudor grandfather, she knew that it would be a huge gamble to run away and then attempt to take the throne. Not to mention, the people who still believed in her. Many of them would still support her, but returning back wouldn’t be easy. Everything her enemies had accused her of, would start to ring true, and she could end up the same way as La Beltraneja, de la Pole and other pretenders who fled to foreign countries for protection and when they tried to come back to claim what they viewed was rightfully theirs, they failed. And then there was also the more personal aspect of this: her mother had refused the easy way out, clinging on to her title of queen and asking Mary to obey her father but also to persevere. This was one of her most harrowing trials where the end lesson was: she was on her own and could trust no one but herself and rely on her unwavering faith to see her the coming struggles.

Source quoted: The Myth of Bloody Mary by Linda Porter. For more information on this failed escape, I also recommend H.F.M. Prescott’s biography on Mary, The Spanish Tudor. She doesn’t have a favorable opinion on Mary but the biography is repleted with plenty of details and and this is one subject that she expands upon.

#mary tudor #tudor history #June 1550

[queenattheopera]

Ben Hardy! Roger Taylor x Reader and slight Gwilym Lee! Brian May x Reader

Prompt: Y/n has a crush on Brian May, but when things don’t work out she turns to Roger for comfort.

Part 1 (Edited 1/24/20)

There had to be more than a hundred people packed into the bar that Freddie told me to meet him at. The warmth inside contrasted the cold I was itching to get away from. Taking off my coat my mind wanders back to my phone call with Freddie. It was when he called that he told me he joined the band with his roommates. He’s thrilled about getting on stage. I’m as excited as him to see him perform. What kind of friend would I be if I hadn’t shown my support?

He definitely would have never let me hear the end of it if I missed the show anyways. Leaving my coat by the door, I adjust my clothes. Freddie had “requested,” more like demanded, that I wear a leather skirt with fishnets and my boots. Not one to argue with my personal stylist, I complied. I’m glad I listened to him because I can feel hella confident and hot.

Looking around I see a board announcing “Queen” as tonight’s headliner. I’ve heard of the band before, but I’ve never seen them perform. Now that Freddie is the vocalist, I have the perfect reason to see them. They’re gonna be good I already know it. It’s because of him. I am so proud of Freddie. He’s wanted this for so long and he’s finally getting his chance to shine.

It’s about time that everyone else gets to hear him sing. Squeezing my way past most of the crowd I get to the bar. It doesn’t take long for the bartender to make his way over.

“Hey, there. What can I get you, love?” Smiling I ask for two shots and send him off with a wink. Not a minute later I strut away with the glasses and head backstage to find my best friend. He spotted me before I could begin to look for him.

He was a way off but I could hear him loud and clear. “Darling, you made it!” He yelled. I rush over to him and hand him his glass. “Fred! Here I got you something to take the edge off.

“Oh please, I’m not nervous.” As he says that I smirk and shrug.  

"Fine, I guess I’ll have to drink both of them then.“  Taking his glass he motions his glass out and yells cheers. I clink our glasses and we down our drinks like water.

Taking the glasses and setting them aside Freddie pulls me into a hug. I kiss his cheek and squeal, “You look fantastic! I can’t believe you’re going to be a rockstar.”

He scoffs, “I’ve always been a rock star, love.”

"My bad you’re right. But don’t forget me when you’re all rich and famous. I am your first fan.” Before Fred could respond with a snide remark, the men standing nearby interrupted.

“Fred, are you going to stand there without introducing us to this lovely lady?” Chuckling, Freddie grabs my hand and twirls me for these men to see. He’s showcasing the outfit he dressed me in with pride. I get a little bit flustered when he does this so I avoid looking at the men standing before me. When I lift my head to look at the three. My eyes stay on the tallest of them.

His height was the first thing that caught my eye. But once I did gave him a better look, he had a gentle gaze that erupted butterflies in me. My cheeks heat up. He is gorgeous, how can someone be so hot. Freddie notices me staring and smirks.

“So,” said the guy holding a bass, “Who’s your friend?”. Out of the corner of my eye. I see the blond make his way closer.

Freddie squeezes my hand to get my full attention, “This lovely beauty right here is, y/n.” I wave at them and smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Brian. That over there is John an-“

“I’m Roger,” he loomed over me. He caught me off guard because his lips met my hand. He begins to eye me up and down, and his gaze is scrutinizing. I blush harder and roll my eyes when I see him bite his lip. The boys don’t see me blush but they catch the eye roll.

“Heel boy. Sorry, y/n if Freddie had told us you were coming; we would have had Roger on a tight leash.” John’s jab at Roger eased the tension. I was trying to stifle my laugh, but I lost it when Roger glared and tried to kick him for the jab.

Soon everyone but Roger joined in the laughter. Staring at Brian, I mentally drool over this man. His soft laugh adds to the butterflies and I notice all the small things about him. Like how his curls fall onto his shoulders. His laugh lines and beautiful brown eyes.

I’m pulled away from heaven by Freddie. “Y/n darling, go find a spot near the stage before it fills up. You need to be close to the stage to get the full experience!“

Laughing, I pull him into another hug. "Good luck babe, don’t fall! I can’t have reputation ruined if you were to mess up.” I poke at Fred. He gives me a fake glare.

“Darling, we don’t need luck.” Freddie spins me around and ushers me toward the crowd. Shaking my head, I find a spot and wait for the show. I watch Brian setting up and I almost start to drool. Freddie grabs the mic stand and the crowd’s attention.

He struggles a bit and looks at me with slight panic. I give him two thumbs up and a smile. I see him take a breath and become a rockstar. Taking a small glance at Brian again, I catch his eye. He smiles at me and my heart starts to beat out of my chest.

After the rocky start, I lose myself in the music. I start to sway and before I know it I’m dancing. I wanted Brian to notice me so I make each move as sensual as possible. Looking up I see Roger undressing me with his eyes. Once he looks up at my eyes, he winks and begins to smirk. I roll my eyes again and take a look at Brian. My heart flutters again.

Once they’re done with the show, I make my way back to the bar. The same bartender as before makes a b-line for me. “Hi, there darling. What’ll it be this time, miss…"

"Y/n and I’m not sure. What do have that’s good?” He smiles and starts to mix the assorted liquids together.

“I’m Charles by the way.”“Charles,” I nod, “It’s nice to meet you.” He hands me a drink and I raise my eyebrow at him.

“Taste it, love. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“And if I don’t?” He bites his lip.

“Then I’ll have to buy you another one on our date.” I’m a little surprised by his offer and then take a sip. The drink was so good.

“Well, it’s to bad that I like the drink then."

"I can make it for you again later tonight at my place-”

“Sorry, she’s here with someone.” An arm snakes around my waist and Charles puts his hands up in surrender before walking away.

“Hello love, how’d you like the show?” I roll my eyes.

“What the hell was that? You had no right to do that!” He begins to make excuses.

“I didn’t like the look of that guy. he was trying to get into your pants.”

“And you aren’t?” Roger feigns hurt. “I was being a good friend.” I roll my eyes and laugh. He takes this as a small victory.

“What do you think of the show?” I smile and praise him. “I’m glad you noticed, how about we head to the back and I can show you what else I’m good at.” You laugh, he’s caught off guard.

“I’m sorry but the bartender did better that you. And if that’s the best you can do then I’m not interested.”

I walked away before he can start to talk again. I look for Freddie in the crowd and spot him on the opposite side of the building. As I’m walking past the dance floor someone shoves me and I lose my balance. Before I know it I’m on the ground. With so many people around me, I can’t seem to get up. Someone helps me up and they’re big enough to shield me from the people around us. He leads me out of the crowd.

Once we were away, I turn to find Brian. Still holding his hand I try to play it cool, “T-thanks.”

“Are you okay? That was quite the fall.” I get flustered, “Yeah. I-i’m-“

“Y/n there you are, I was afraid you left darling.” Freddie looks at me and then Brian. He looks at our hands and smirks knowingly. Letting go and I pull Fred into a hug and hide my red face in his shoulder. “You did great out there!” I look at him and it’s like I can already tell what he’s thinking.

#queen #freddie mercury #roger taylor #John Deacon #Brian May #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody cast #ben hardy! roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x reader #queen x reader #brian may x reader #gwilym lee! brian may x reader #ben hardy #gwilym lee #fate #fate part 1

[checkmate-cherik]

Trigger warning for implied abuse, manipulation, and Erik being a fucking dick, but this is what I wrote late last night.

Charles wasn’t sure how he was doing this.

The Christmas party was in full swing. Everyone was in the fuzzy tipsy area, not quite drunk enough to be mean and loud, not sober enough to let their boredom show. Charles, absolutely sober and monitoring every mind in the room closely for trouble, kept a calm smile and tone as he chitchatted with his coworkers.

Coworkers? No. Enemies. He could not trust anyone here. But he smiled and pretended.

He felt Shaw’s attention fix on him, predatory and cruel, and braced himself as he talked to a man about the impossibility of finding a very specific video game for his son. The man was glad Charles was engaged in the conversation, but as soon as he saw Shaw over Charles’ shoulder, he paled, muttered a hurried excuse, and fled.

Shaw’s hand landed heavily on Charles’ shoulder, squeezing hard and shaking him playfully. “Well, sweetheart, how are you enjoying the party?” Shaw asked loudly, grinning. Charles smiled politely, skin crawling.

“It’s quite lovely,” he replied in a neutral tone, and couldn’t help a tiny wince as Shaw’s hand tightened more. Shaw saw, and his grin widened.

“That’s wonderful! Hey, I want to introduce you to someone.” Shaw swung Charles around, ignoring how he almost tripped, and gestured dramatically to another man. “Erik, this is my secretary Charles Xavier. Charles, this is the guy I told you about, the architect. Erik Lehnsherr.”

Charles kept his smile, though Lehnsherr looked very annoyed. His mind was… scary. Charles shied from it. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lehnsherr.” He started to raise his hand, to offer it to shake, but Lehnsherr’s abrupt frown made him check, and lower his hand. “I am glad you could make it.” A ritual, lines he had spoken to every attendee, in an attempt to give a pleasant first impression and therefore minimize potential disaster.

Lehnsherr narrowed his eyes, and his gaze flicked to Shaw’s possessive grip before returning to Charles’ absolutely bland smile.

“Pleasure to meet you too,” Lehnsherr said grudgingly. “Are you really his secretary?”

“Yes,” Charles replied, with absolutely no change in expression. He was beginning to feel sick from Shaw’s proximity. Shaw was getting drunk too, and that made his mind more overwhelming.

“He’s the best I’ve ever had!” Shaw boasted with a smug grin. “Never complains, does all his work perfect and on time—you’d think he was a robot!” He laughed loudly. Charles’ gut clenched.

“Hmph.” Lehnsherr was looking between them with a suspicious gaze, and Charles suddenly had the chilling thought, He knows.

But no one knew. No one. It was all just Shaw being a jerk. No one knew.

Charles stood very still as Shaw extolled his virtues to Lehnsherr, the usual spiel meant to let people know they were not allowed to become familiar with him. He was a valuable asset, he was so much more organized than his last secretary—all things said about any other employee, but with an underlying possessive, threatening tone. Charles was too precious for mere associates to even speak to for long. It made him want to vomit. But instead he kept a pleasant expression and said nothing.

Finally, Shaw wrapped it up, let go of Charles’ shoulder and patted him on the back, hard, and walked away.

Lehnsherr didn’t even let Charles get in a benign question about his work before bluntly asking, “So are you sleeping with him?”

“No,” Charles replied. “I do not sleep with my employers. How are you enjoying the party?”

“You’re lying,” Lehnsherr said, eyes narrowing again, and Charles suppressed a wave of fear. “What, you think sex will let you keep your job?”

“I’m not having sex with him.”

“He doesn’t talk like that about employees he’s not fucking. Better watch yourself, Xavier. He always gets bored eventually.” And with that, Lehnsherr turned and walked away.

Charles blinked hard and thinned his mouth out, to remind himself not to cry. After a moment, he had himself under control, and walked smoothly to the restroom, managing genial nods to those who noticed him. As he stepped into the restroom, he checked automatically for minds—no one was here.

So he went to the farthest stall, locked the door, knelt, and vomited up all his dinner. He let the shakes hit while he did, and when he was empty and had wiped his face on some toilet paper and flushed the mess, he leaned against the wall and just shook, going hot and cold in turns. His shoulder hurt where Shaw had grabbed him. His stomach hurt, twisted with nerves and despair. His mind hurt—but it usually did.

One more hour. One more hour and Shaw would let him leave.

Charles’ face crumpled and he whimpered. An entire hour. He wasn’t sure he could do it.

But he had to.

So he smoothed his expression, stood, and exited the stall, going to the sink to wash his hands and mouth. Then he went back out to the party, and went back to pretending everything was okay.

~

The condo was dark and empty, and Charles was glad.

It had taken every ounce of willpower he had left to convince Shaw to let him go home, instead of drag him to Shaw’s penthouse. Charles could not take another minute with his employer near him. That would spill over into any projection he attempted, and Shaw would know what he was doing, and he’d be punished. So he used words instead of telepathy, and managed to escape, while Shaw laughed indulgently.

It had been longer than an hour. Shaw had not let him leave until midnight, when everyone was kicked out. And now Charles was finally alone, safe, locked in and free from other minds.

He went first to the kitchen, and made a light midnight snack. He didn’t even really know what he was eating. Just something to fill the hollow feeling in his belly. Then he went straight to bed. His wonderful bed, musty from disuse, but completely empty of anyone except himself, and free of horrible memories. He sighed as he settled under the blankets, and almost felt asleep.

Almost.

As soon as he relaxed and let down his guard, pent-up emotions exploded through him, and he gasped like he’d been stabbed. Then the tears came, and he cried for a solid five minutes, whimpering, trying to be quiet, quiet. He didn’t know how much the neighbors could hear. Shaw had spies everywhere. They mustn’t know that he was crying. Shaw would use that against him.

The soft noise of the front door opening.

Charles froze, and reached out a mental hand to touch the mind invading his haven.

Lehnsherr. Angry, but coldly, as he stepped further into the condo, and let the door close. Charles barely thought; he grabbed Lehnsherr’s mind, freezing his conscious thoughts, and forced him to walk out of the condo again. Then Charles scrambled out of bed and ran down the hall. There, Lehnsherr’s back as he left and closed the door. As soon as Charles threw the bolt and slid the chain home, he let go of Lehnsherr’s mind.

A blaze of fury, and the door slammed open, knocking Charles off his feet and right into the wall. He didn’t even yelp, not even when his head hit the wall so hard he lost his ability to balance. He was used to pain, after all.

Lehnsherr slammed the door shut again, and grabbed the front of Charles’ sleep-shirt, pinning him to the wall. “What the fuck did you just do?!” Lehnsherr hissed, and Charles felt a small, fleeting hope that he would kill Charles.

“Made you leave,” Charles replied with a cough. “Breaking and entering is a crime.”

“You’re not a mutant!”

Charles blinked at Lehnsherr, so surprised that he forgot to hope. “Yes I am,” he replied. “I’m a telepath.”

Lehnsherr’s snarl did not ease, and there was a bar of shadow over his eyes, but he had frozen. Charles touched his mind very carefully, trying to figure out what he was going to do…

Impossible, there’s only one Xavier telepath and he’s dead, he’s dead, it was all over the news, his house burned down didn’t it, Shaw had been trying to influence him…

Charles felt Lehnsherr put it all together, and eased out of his head. Lehnsherr’s snarl was gone now, his jaw hanging. He stepped back, loosening his grip on Charles.

“Oh,” he said softly.

“Yes,” Charles replied, just as soft.

“So… you’re not some cousin sleeping your way to the top.”

“No.”

“But he’s still fucking you.”

“No.”

“But...”

“He believes what I tell him.”

Lehnsherr was very still for longer this time. Charles was too tired to read his mind. When the silence had gone on long enough to be uncomfortable, Charles asked tiredly, “Will you please leave? I have to be up at six.”

“Oh. Yes.” Lehnsherr let go of him, and left, closing the door quietly behind him. The locks had broken, but even as Charles watched, he saw the chain rise and mend itself, and he heard a quiet click as the bolt slid into place again.

Once, he would have been intensely interested, maybe even excited. He would have opened the door and begged Lehnsherr to tell him about his mutation. He knew this. He knew it was a pity that he no longer cared. But… well, he didn’t care.

He went back to bed.

#abuse tw #ramblings #this is what I write when I go all static-y and empty

[mnemo-ink]

Marvel Bingo - Spies

New @marvelbingo​ fill, prompt: spies, pairing: Charles Xavier/Bucky Barnes

In Cuba, Charles ends up in the hands of the russians and at the winter soldier facility. Months later, he escapes with Bucky and Natasha.

For the second time, he was becoming a ghost.

First James Barnes was killed in action, and his remains became a shadowy soldier. Now that shadow was disappearing as well. What would be left then? He had yet to figure it out.

He watched as Charles, still too thin, was using the machine they called Cerebro.

Now in everyone's memory, in every file, the Winter Soldier died during another cryonics procedure. His body was studied and burned, his arm archived then lost in the explosion that killed many personels from that facility. As for Charles, he had never been in Cuba, nor in contact with the CIA. He was a simple PhD recipient who went for a sabbitical after finishing his thesis, a young man of no interest to the red room, Hydra, or any agency out there.

Natasha, the little girl they took with them, died of the pneumonia that had her being sent to their facility, away from the other children tortured into spies.

They were safe in Charles' mansion for now. From the rest of the world at least. Not from themselves.

---

Charles slept for five days after that. As Natasha kept sneaking into his room, they ended up adding a bed for her. Bucky was already sleeping beside Charles.

---

The soldier was afraid to sleep, what with Charles unable to stop him, if he wasn't himself. After he snapped at Sean and told him the evil he was, Sean showed off his power and knocked him out.

Bucky found some rest that night.

---

"Alex just helped Natasha put a tutu on her teddy bear."

Charles raised his eyebrows. His power, still hard to control, obeyed his curiosity and pulled the memory out of Bucky. The soldier felt it, tensed, but focused on commenting on the scene:

"Natasha was quite harsh to it."

"She's treating the teddy bear like they treated her."

Charles retreated, pained and angry at all Natasha went through. Her... And so many. So many he saw in her mind, so many she probably never met.

"There are more children like Natasha. I want to help them..."

"Me too." interrupted Bucky.

"But we're going to need help. And, as much as it pains me to admit, we're going to have to wait to recover. I already went too far erasing us."

Bucky kept his comment about that to himself, but his eyes clearly sent to Charles 'no shit you did'.

"I think I remember people I fought with. It's vague, but I feel I can trust them. You should be able to pull their names out of my skull."

Charles nodded.

"If they are still active, considering the actual climate, they'd probably welcome the intel about some Russian operations. We may be able to push them in the right direction."

Bucky, without realizing it, gripped Charles' hand:

"If not, we'll find another way. We have to save these kids."

Charles felt his throat tighten, both their despair and resolve mixing in a tempest of feelings.

"We will."

---

"We should discuss what to do about Natasha." said Charles, barely hiding his nerve behind a cold facade.

Bucky frowned, not understanding.

"What about Natasha?"

"Perhaps it would be better for her to be adopted. By a normal family I mean."

"She's not normal."

Charles looked away. Bucky sighed, took a few seconds to calm down, and said:

"I know we won't be able to take care of all the others, if we get them out. But it's different. We escaped together, we bonded. To her, we are her family now. I don't think she'd take it well if we abandoned her."

At these words, Charles turned back to him, his controlled appearance breaking as he raised his voice in outrage:

"I don't want to abandon her! I want her to have the best life possible and I... I don't have the best track record for raising girls."

Confused, Bucky asked:

"How old are you exactly?"

"What?"

"How many kids can you possibly have?"

"What... Oh! No, I meant my sister."

"So you messed up once, when you were still growing up yourself?"

"Put like that it does seem rather ridiculous."

"Because it is."

The small smile Bucky had gotten out of Charles vanished in an instant, as Charles remembered Raven and how it ended.

"I didn't mess up as a kid though... And I hurt her... I don't want to repeat things with Natasha."

"If you know your mistakes, you just have not to do them again."

"That's the problem though... After all this time... I'm still not sure where I did wrong."

---

Bucky's terror woke up Charles like a loud thunder. Not even fully conscious himself, his mind reached out to the other man. He wrapped Bucky into a mental shield, getting him out of his nightmares and into a peaceful mental space. And then slowly, calmly, guided him awake.

Several minutes passed, rhytmed by Bucky's breathing, his eyes lost as Charles held him in his arms.

"I should have been stronger."

"No one can accuse you of lacking in strength my friend. Don't punish yourself for something you were the victim of."

"You beat it though. I didn't."

Charles moved back to look Bucky in the eyes, determined to make him understand:

"Listen carefully: I didn't manage to trick their conditioning because I am stronger; their method is very much unbreakable. The only thing they didn't account for was how different a telepath's mind was. Not stronger. Different. Like trying to put a cube in a round hole. And even then... With such pain... I nearly didn't make it. You and Natasha are the reason I didn't lose myself. Had I been alone..."

Terrifying images forced themselves into his mind. He swallowed, focusing with all his will on Bucky:

"If they hadn't wake you up to assassinate JFK... Had they wake you later, maybe even just a few days later, perhaps it would have been too late for me too."

Charles caressed the soldier's face, tears in both their eyes.

"So you see, you saved me. Even when your mind had been broken and pushed in the dark, there was still enough of James Barnes to call out to me. Keep me sane and hoping. Without you..."

Words got lost in the tears, voice choked with the emotion. Their faces got closer, as if sharing desperate breath. Their lips so close, minds asking permission silently.

"You saved me..."

They kissed and, in their minds, hope flared once more.

#marvelbingo2019 #my stuff #prompt: spies #charles/bucky #fic #tw violence #tw torture #tw trauma

[ittakesrain]

Psycho Education

Psycho Education: Things I Learned in the Psychiatric Hospital

I knew I needed to be hospitalized. I’ve known that for a while. Hell, I tried to get myself into a hospital prior to this, because I was desperate for some relief, and nothing happened. I guess it all accumulated for the past year or so, though. I went to my psychiatrist for a normal appointment on February 10th, and she sent me to the ER like, immediately. She actually called them and told them I’d be coming (I felt like such a VIP: very important psycho). My boyfriend left work early and picked me up and we went. And thus began an interesting journey where I learned a bunch of things that I’m going to explain in a vaguely chronological but unimportant order. This doesn’t include everything, and I have so many more thoughts that I’m dying to get onto a page, but I think it’s important that my first post is positive and talks about the last month as a learning experience.

I was in the ER for a day and a half. It was an overwhelming experience. I was crying a lot, and I just wanted to lay there on the gurney under the sheets and be “alone.” But I was on Constant Observation (since I was suicidal) and had someone watching me at all times. And apparently I couldn’t go completely under the covers because they had to see that I wasn’t killing myself under there. So I was basically inconsolable.

I hated the guy watching me, at first. He would ask questions and I’d try to answer, but I’d just start crying at the fact that I didn’t think he understood what I was actually experiencing. How much pain I was in. Like…was he belittling me? I couldn’t tell.

I came around to him eventually. I don’t know when, exactly. Maybe after he went on his break. The nurse manager watched me while he was gone, and she was really nice. We talked a little bit, and maybe that little bit where I was broken out of my shell helped me not feel so upset with Charles who had to sit there and stare at me. Not that he was creepy; he wasn’t. He was cool. It was just a hard situation, and I was emotional and all over the place. I realized that seeking comfort is okay and even brave at times, but at the end of the day, when no one else can do it you have to do it yourself. I was lying there, tossing and turning, my mind racing, all of my painfully confused…and I had to just calm myself down. I’m not saying I was successful at that (I wasn’t). But the lesson stuck with me. I asked for help, and I’m proud that I did. But I also learned that I can’t get help with everything. I can’t have someone help me control my emotions, it doesn’t work that way.

Charles and I eventually got into conversation, and he imparted a gem of wisdom that totally relates and that I wrote down as soon as I had a notebook in which to do so: no one can swim for you and no one can breathe for you. I couldn’t tell you what the hell we were talking about (I’m assuming it was the impending hospitalization ahead of me), but it’s true. The coming weeks were something I was gonna have to face on my own.

Yeah, definitely true. Although once I got to the psych hospital, I wasn’t completely on my own. I made friends almost immediately (once I stopped crying, showered for the first time in three days, and actually consumed some sort of food). I guess there’s nothing quite like being locked up together to bring about friendships. It also probably helps that we were all in a similar place mentally and emotionally. We related to one another. We grew into a weird little dysfunctional family.

And dysfunctional we indeed were. Lock a bunch of crazies up together and shit DOES get intense. I realized pretty early on that sometimes it’s best to just walk away. Walk away from a fight or confrontation, walk away from a trigger. Hell, sometimes you even need to walk away from someone crying who just needs to cry. I loved when the other patients there calmed me down as I was crying. A fist-bump and a sneaky hug go a long way (we weren’t technically allowed to touch each other). But there were moments I just needed to cry. And I saw the same being true of other people.

We were a unique bunch.  It became increasingly clear to me why you should never judge anyone without talking to them first. Like, everyone has their own shit. You literally never know someone’s story without asking them. And human beings are interesting, so ask! Listen to everyone’s story and learn from them, because my god is there so much to learn. Not to mention that people are all complicated, with or without mental illness. We’re all just different. It’s fascinating.

I sat down next to the schizophrenic who needed to be restrained and sedated the day before and actually talked to him. I was happy I did because he’s got a lot of wisdom inside of him next to all his fear. We sat there on the floor outside the med window after each taking our cocktail of pills, and started talking. The day after that was not one of my better ones. And he was the one to sit down next to me. “Hey,” he said. “Put out your hands like this.” I wiped my tears and looked up at him. I held out my hands in front of me. “Do you see them?” he asked, to which I responded with a tentative ‘yes.’ “See? You’re here, you’re safe, you’re okay.” I used that technique to ground myself a few more times after that.

I can’t talk about lessons learned in the psych hospital without mentioning how I learned to be thankful in a simple but grand way. I vowed that when I got out I’d stop taking day to day conveniences for granted. My phone and my laptop are wonderful tools I have, and I’ll never again forget how fucking cool they are. I was, however, already thankful for the support I am lucky enough to have. Every morning we had a “community meeting” where we told everyone how we were feeling, what our goal was for the day, and who our support was. I never once forgot how special the people around me are that they love and support me as much as they do.

Then there’s the lesson I’m continually re-learning: let it go. I really tried to tone down my reactions to minor little things while I was there. Like, I put serious effort into it. There were a few instances in the beginning when I was uhh…using humor as a coping mechanism, and it wasn’t received well by some of the staff. So I was told to stop. Which, okay, that’s fine, right? It is, and looking back I realize it right away now. But my general response is to feel stupid and dumb and dwell on the situation for far too long and then feel stupid again and just continue on and on. But I’m actually damn proud of how I let it go because I literally forgot about how angry I was at that staff member until just now. We turned out to be chill with each other anyway, and I’m glad we turned out that way because I feel happy to have known the guy. But yeah, I’m giving myself major props for that one, and I’m gonna remember this exact paragraph next time I go to overthink about something like that. I also want to phrase it differently, in case I didn’t make my point as effectively as I wanted to: don’t worry so much about what’s going on in other people’s heads, because you don’t have to live there.

As I got more stable (I’m gonna write a whole post about how that was able to happen to begin with, because holy shit was it a process), I started to get the itch to get the fuck out of there. I wanted to go home. I was naturally going stir-crazy, as you can imagine would happen after being cooped up for over two weeks, and I was even getting anxious wondering when they were gonna release me. I was tentatively scheduled to be discharged Tuesday the 25th, but on morning on the day before, I’d just about lost my mind wondering if that date was still set. The weekends went slow there, and no doctors or social workers were there, so I was left hanging and wondering. Anyway, as I was freaking out, another patient pulled me aside and told me that in his struggle with drugs, whenever he told himself “just don’t do drugs” every day, he’d inevitably wind up doing them. But “when I told myself I was gonna get up, go for a run, make breakfast, and so on, guess what I did?” I stared at him for a second. “I’m gonna go home tomorrow,” I told him, and he smiled and nodded. The moral of the story, I guess, is either that you attract what you think about, or that it’s easy to spot what you’re always thinking about. And it turns out I did go home the next day!

As I was getting ready to be discharged, I started to reflect back. I’d filled an entire marble notebook with thoughts and feelings, but there was still a lot I wanted to think about. Still a lot I had to think about. I said to the counselors and my social worker that even though I’d done so much work and self-reflection, I knew I still had a lot more work to do once I left. And oh boy is there still a lot of work to do haha. Self-discovery is a never-ending process. I think I used to let that overwhelm me, but honestly? It isn’t such a scary thing. Life is a never-ending process. Self-discovery is just a way of life.

And finally, because I actually do feel hopeful that I’ll succeed in my quest to be the best version of me: remember to have hope.

#bipolar #bipolar disorder #actually bipolar #borderline problems #psychiatric hospital #mental illness #mentally ill #anxiety #depression #actuallybipolar #actually bpd #bpd #lessons #life lessons #learning #growth #progress #struggle #hospital #self-discovery #borderline personality disorder #bipolar 2 #hypomanic #hypomania #mental health

[mermaidmundane]

Alex Summers FLUFF Alphabet

A- Attention: He definitely got your attention first. You saw him at the mall with a bunch of kids from a school. He looked a bit annoyed which you thought was very attractive. He had a brute look to him that really interested you.

B- Best Feature: He thinks your best feature is when you laugh uncontrollably at stupid puns and cheesy pick up lines. He just likes how you look so genuine and fearless. He also really likes when you smile even when he tells jokes wrong.

C- Cuddles: Alex is an amazing big spoon and you absolutely love cuddling with him. He has this macho physique he tries to uphold but he is totally down to cuddling with you and watching a movie. You would spend hours upon hours watching movies and cuddling up regardless of the weather.

D- Dates: He's a retro man and loves to drive up onto a cliff at night and lay out a little picnic for you so you two could watch the stars. of course the man would bring flowers for you and maybe a bottle of champagne or wine. He's a bit old-fashioned in his ways but in good humor.

E- Entertainment: A popular thing that you to tend to do is drive up and down town. Your favorite time to do so is at night when all the city lights are on so you two could gaze at all the busy people. Every now and then you would go to a retro Cafe and possibly share a milkshake or get some ice cream.

F- Family: You to have talked extensively about starting a family. Alex and you have talked about having little pitter-patter of feet around the house. Roughly about 3-4 kids. You've certainly told him that he had to put a ring on your finger in order to do so. He would joke occasionally about marrying you right on the spot but in all honesty he was planning it for the near future.

G- Grumpy: One thing that really upsets Alex is when he wakes up from a PTSD nightmare and stirs you awake. you reassure him that it's nothing and that you were willing to stay up with him and help him. He just feels really bad when he does so because he feels that it's his problem and not yours.

H- Holiday: a holiday with Alex would be a nice day on the beach. You two would playfully splash water at each other. Afterwards he would take you to a really nice dinner. Then the rest of the night in a hotel room drinking.

I- Introduction: You would end up meeting his family before he met yours. It started out with Scott. Alex and you ended up taking Scott Charles Xavier gifted School in order to help him maintain his powers. Eventually he would end up introducing you to his mom and dad. It wasn't a big deal to you to have him meet your parents.

J- Jealous: You would get jealous more often than he would. You admit that he looks very good in his army uniform and a lot of women notice it. You would cling to his arm and scowl at any girl that tried to look at him. He would laugh it off but understood why you felt like that.

K- Kisses: For a man that's been through a lot he surely knows how to make you laugh. He would come up behind you and kiss your neck then attack your face with kisses. This was usually followed by extreme tickling and hugging. You absolutely love kissing his forehead whenever he sleeps. He's usually very calm then and you adore it.

L- Love: You said I love you first. It wasn't out of jealousy or anger it was just the time and moment. He wasn't shocked at all because he felt the same. This was followed by playful fighting and kissing and eventually further on something else.

M- Make up: Whenever you two would get into a fight Alex would leave the house in a huff. You would walk around the house waiting for him to return. He's a very stubborn man and you are very stubborn person yourself. It would take a lot of time for you to to resolve your issues but after talking through it, it buffs.

N- Night In: He wouldn't tell us anyone ppon the street but he secretly loves musical movies. You two would spend hours watching Grease or Footloose or even Sweeney Todd. The funny thing is sometimes you to a dance to the music and try to recreate the dance moves.

O- Obsessed: He's not really obsessed more so due to his PTSD. He has a lot of trouble maintaining relationships that he really loves you. You two both consistently work together in order to maintain the relationship.

P- Perfect: He thinks you're the most perfect when you're acting silly. You just look genuinely happy and relaxed with yourself. Alex is a bit philosophical and believes in order to love someone you have to love yourself. You truly inspire him.

Q- Quirks: You think it's absolutely funny that he talks in his sleep. He says the wildest things in his sleep about people. Sometimes every now and then he talks code from when he was in the military. Every now and then you get him to answer a few questions in his sleep and make fun of him in the morning for answering them.He's a bit embarrassed by it but you think it's cute and even created a name for sleep Alex.

R- Restless: He gets Restless quite often and needs constant reassurance that everything is okay. It gets particularly bad after he's had a nightmare he tends not to cooperate throughout the day. He really appreciates how patient you are with his PTSD.

S- Song: Alex: Girls like you - Maroon 5

You: Bleeding Out - Imagine Dragons

T- Trickster: You two really don't prank each other but you do make witty comebacks at each other. It's just filled with stupid jokes and even cheesier pick up lines and he seems to always have a joke or two.

U- Underestimated: Alex was uncertain that you would stay with him because of his mental illness. After about a year or two he finally let you in and begin trusting you.

V- Vicious: You tend to get very passionate about things you believe in. Especially if it's something superhero related or conspiracy theories. You'd spend hours debating on why you love this character of a book to Alex. He would just smile and listen and egg you on if not.

W- Weakness: You get absolutely Head over heels when he takes you on a date on the cliff. Every now and then he makes it super romantic by bringing candles and fancy wine. You thought nothing of it because if it came and normalcy to you but eventually he ended up proposing to you in that way. You couldn't of been happier

X- Xtra Insert: when Alex had his hair long you would braid it consistently. he would let you braid it just so you could relax and it was basically a couples bonding moment that he really liked. He loves when you play with his hair.

Y-Yearning: He tends to miss you more often because he loves your companionship. You bring a light to his life and he really enjoys it. He literally feels like he's missing something whenever you're not around.

Z- You Choose: One year for your birthday Alex gave you an encyclopedia of all of your favorite superhero biographies. You went absolutely insane and was practically in tears. He thought it was hilarious as you continuously would thank him. It ended up with you showing all of the superheroes that you love and reciting the biographies. Another priceless couples bonding moment.

#xmen imagines #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr imagine #hank mccoy #marvel imagine #charles xavier imagine #alex summers #hank mccoy imagines #scott summers imagine #alex summers imagine

[oh-ranpo]

more than a pretty face. (2)

Pairing: Ben Hardy x OC AN: This is going to go back into the past a little bit, just before the Golden Globes. Just as a little heads up. All of this is completely fictional of course, but just so you have an idea of the timeline here. Let me know what you think! Tags list is open, just send me a message to be added. Warnings: Cheating, drinking

All anyone could talk about were the Golden Globes. Even though it was still a few weeks away, as soon as the boys found out that they were nominated, there had been instant celebration and constant talk over what they were going to wear and what they were going to do if they won.

Charlie had been so excited for them, knowing just how much they all deserved it. While Ben had already been over the U.S. for a while staying with Sophia, once the nominees were announced, Gwilym, Lucy and Allen had flown over to celebrate. Charlie had suggested throwing a party at her place, since it was the biggest, and they had happily taken her up on her offer. She was the only one in the group who had a townhouse that could accommodate everyone who was sure to be coming.

Normally, Charlie might have been a little more apprehensive about having so many people she didn’t know well in her living space, but she was willing to make an exception for this. It was such a big moment, and the perfect way to start the awards season.

“Thank you so much for letting us have this party at your places, Charles,” Joe said cheerfully, as he wrapped his arm around his brunette friend. Charlie could tell that he had already had quite a bit to drink, considering he had broken out his ‘Charles’ nickname that he knew she despised. It only reared its ugly head when he was drunk and when he knew that she wouldn’t get mad at him.

“Of course, Joey. You guys deserve it,” Charlie replied, smiling brightly at him.  

There was loud music playing in the living room, and there were people milling about all over the place. Most people Charlie recognized as either other cast members from Bohemian Rhapsody, or as friends from other movies. No one had told her exactly who had been invited, only to expect a lot of people to come. They weren’t wrong.

As Charlie moved to see to it that the bar was fully stocked, Joe bounded off to greet someone that he hadn’t seen in a while. The party had been going for almost an hour now, and Charlie still hadn’t seen Ben or Sophia anywhere. She couldn’t complain though. Not having to see Sophia’s face was more than enough thanks for throwing this party.

The crowd seemed to get denser the closer to the kitchen she got, and just as Charlie was able to push her way into the room, a voice called her name and she felt her stomach drop. She hesitantly turned in the direction of the voice, and put on her best fake smile as Sophia’s best friend, Wren, moved towards her.  

While Wren wasn’t nearly as bad as Sophia, the entire time that Charlie had known her, she had been trying to sleep with Joe. As far as Charlie could tell, Joe was nowhere near interested, but that didn’t stop Wren from asking about him anytime she had the misfortune of bumping into her. Also, the fact that Wren was here meant that Sophia was also there somewhere. The thought made Charlie nauseous.

“Charlie, oh my gosh, I’ve been looking all over for you! What an amazing party!” Wren’s blue eyes were wide, and Charlie had a hard time telling whether she was being genuine or if she was just faking it in hopes of getting in good with Joe. Either way, Charlie wasn’t buying it.

“Thanks, Wren. Of course, it was all put together by Joe and Rami. I just provided the space.”

Wren’s face lit up at the mention of Joe’s name, and just as she opened her mouth to launch into twenty questions about him, Charlie was knocked to the side, a sarcastic ‘sorry’ being muttered as someone pushed past her. She wasn’t at all surprised to look up and see Sophia smirking smugly at her, while Ben trailed behind her like a lost puppy. His eyes met hers for a brief second, and Charlie thought that she might have seen a bit of an apology in his expression, but he had disappeared into the crowd before she could be sure.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go and check to make sure the rest of the kitchen is one piece. I’ll talk to you later,” Charlie excused herself, ignoring the fact that Wren’s face fell at her dismissal. Deep down, Charlie hoped that the big crowd kept her, Wren, and Sophia as far from each other as possible.  

The urge for another drink consumed her, and Charlie grabbed a plastic cup from the stack at the end of the bar and made her way down to where the keg was sitting. There were several people hovering around it, but they all parted for her as she grabbed for the tap. After filling her cup up completely, Charlie turned to make sure that everything else was in order, and was surprised to see that all the drinks had already been restocked. She figured Rami or Lucy must have come in at some point, and made a mental note to thank them later.  

Charlie pushed back through the crowd, and when she made it back into her living room, she smiled when she saw Rami, Lucy, Joe, Gwilym, Allen and Ben chatting happily amongst one another. Lucy was perched on Rami’s lap in the lounge chair, and Joe, Gwil, Ben, and Allen were all smashed together on the couch opposite them. Rami looked up and smiled as Charlie entered the room, drawing everyone else’s attention to her as well.

“Charles!” Joe cried happily, and Charlie rolled her eyes. He eagerly patted the armrest next to him, but she just shook her head. Sitting next to him would require crawling over almost everyone’s laps, and she wasn’t about to do that.

“Are you guys having a good time?” she asked, bringing her cup to her lips to take a drink. All of them nodded simultaneously, each one wearing a giant smile with the exception of Ben.

“Oh, it’s just wonderful. Thank you so much for doing all of this for us, Charlie. You are the best,” Lucy gushed as she removed herself from Rami’s lap and walked over to wrap her in a hug. Lucy was always so sweet, but just like with Joe, Charlie could tell that she had already had quite a bit to drink. All of them looked like they had.  

“Really, it’s nothing. Hopefully in a month we will be able to have an even bigger celebration.”

Lucy left one of her arms draped across Charlie’s shoulders, but she didn’t mind. She wasn’t normally the touchy-feely type, but when it came to this group, it was something she had been forced to get over quite quickly.  

It was several more minutes before Charlie realized that, besides Lucy, it really was just all the guys. Sophia was nowhere to be seen. The thought of having her running amuck in her house made Charlie nervous, so she quietly excused herself to see if she could locate her. She didn’t say anything to anyone about what she was doing, because she knew if she brought it to Ben’s attention, he would get offended and the entire night would be ruined. Charlie cursed under her breath when she realized that there were still a ton of people around, making her search even harder. Sophia was not a tall person, so spotting her in the crowd was going to be difficult.  

She started with the main floor, searching through the dining room and kitchen, but found nothing. She then headed into the lower level where people had set up some drinking games, but the crowd was sparse, and after one glance, Charlie could tell that she wasn’t down there either. She could feel a knot form in her throat at the thought of her being on the top floor, where only her bedroom, the guest bedroom, and another bathroom were located. When she made it upstairs, at first, the area looked empty. But then, Charlie noticed that the guest room door was shut. She was just about to reach out and open it when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Charlie? What are you doing?”  

She must have looked suspicious, because when she turned to face Ben, he gave her a questioning look.

“I was just checking to make sure everything was okay up here. I mean, this is my house. I can go wherever I want,” she huffed in response. “What are you doing up here?”  

Ben narrowed his eyes and gestured down the hall towards the bathroom.

“The bathroom downstairs was taken and Joe said that there was another one up here.”

Charlie nodded curtly, and then both of their attention was stolen by a loud crash and then a giggle coming from inside the guest bedroom. Charlie turned quickly, and Ben laughed.

“Sounds like someone is having a little fun in there.”

Charlie cringed at the thought, and reached out to push the door open. Regardless of who it was, she didn’t want someone getting it on in her guest bed. She was already going to have quite the mess to clean up.

As soon as the door swung open, Charlie inhaled sharply when she saw a half-dressed Sophia sitting on the edge of the bed while another man was sprawled out across the floor. The loud thud had apparently been him falling off the bed.

“Soph- Sophia?”  

For a moment, Charlie had forgotten that Ben was right behind her. In his curious state, he had moved closer to see who was causing all the commotion, and for the first time since she had met him, Charlie felt sorry for him.

“Oh my God, Ben! Honey, it’s not what it looks like!” Sophia struggled to remove herself from the tangle of sheets, but Ben was already gone. Charlie could hear his footsteps racing down the stairs, and the man that was on the floor leaned up against the bed, clearly confused as to everything that was going on. Sophia grabbed her shirt and shorts in haste, but when her eyes landed on Charlie, she glowered at her.

“You did this on purpose!” she hissed, pulling her shirt over her head and stumbling over towards the doorway. “You’ve always been jealous of Ben and I!”

The accusation made Charlie laugh, and even though Sophia was giving her a look that could kill, she didn’t feel threatened in the slightest.

“Oh no, sweetie. You brought this upon yourself.”

When she finally stumbled back into her pants, Sophia pushed past Charlie in the doorway and disappeared down the stairs, leaving Charlie alone with the stranger.

“I think it goes without saying, but you really need to leave,” Charlie said, as she pulled the door closed behind her so the man could get changed. A few seconds later, Gwilym bounded up the stairs, a bewildered look on his face.

“What just happened? Ben came storming through the living room, mumbling something about leaving and then Sophia chased him outside with her shirt on wrong side out.”

Charlie tried not to laugh, considering the delicacy of the situation, but before she could reply, the man exited the guest bedroom and sheepishly squeezed past them to head downstairs. Charlie’s eyes met Gwilym’s and a look of understanding crossed his face.

“Damn, poor Ben.”

The sympathy that Charlie had been feeling for Ben dissipated and instead frustration took its place.

“This has been happening for a long time, Gwil. You know it, I know it, we all know it. It’s his fault for not opening his eyes to it sooner.” A sad look crossed Gwilym’s face, and Charlie already knew what he was going to say before he said it. It was the same thing all the guys had been saying when the issue got brought up. “And no, love is not that complicated.”

Charlie made her way back downstairs, and saw that several people had already left. The mood of the room had shifted considerably, and without saying, people seemed to realize that something had happened. The rest of the BoRhap crew still sat in the living room, but their eyes were watching the stairs, waiting for her to come back down and explain what had happened, even though they were all sure they could guess.

“Is he going to be okay?” Allen asked first, as Charlie took the empty seat next to him. Charlie shrugged.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.”  

A somber kind of quiet fell over the group, a complete contrast to the upbeat dance music that was blasting through the speakers. The evening’s celebrations had been ruined, and now all anyone could think about was Ben and how he was handling what had just happened. Rami excused himself after a few minutes, and Charlie knew that he was going to go try and find him.  

“He shouldn’t be alone right now,” he murmured, as he pressed a parting kiss against Charlie’s temple, and Lucy followed him out.

A few more people filtered out, and Joe took it upon himself to go down and make sure that everyone else knew that the party was over. Before long, it was just Gwilym, Charlie, Allen, and Joe left in the house and someone had turned the music off.

“Do you think he’s going to take her back?” Gwilym asked awkwardly, after a few more minutes of silence. Charlie was still sitting next to Allen on the couch, but Joe was leaning in the doorway across the room.

“God, I hope not,” Charlie breathed, and Joe laughed. She hadn’t meant for it to come out so loud.

“For his sake, I hope he doesn’t either. Ben’s too good of a guy to keep having his heart broken like this,” Allen added.

Charlie felt a little confused at his phrasing but didn’t say anything. Was this not the first time Ben had a bad relationship? It didn’t really matter. She could only hope that tonight was the last that she saw of Sophia.

Permanent Tag List: @dreamer821 @haileylansley @aylinnmaslow @yourealegendroger @gotnofeelgotnorhythm @justgivemethekeys @mads459 @trickster-may @taylorroger-s @mercurys-bike @ksqueenie @musiccureseverythinglove @mespetitestortues @tomhollandsquackson @secretsweetscollectionblog @jennycidesstuff @ladycataztrophe @tini-monster @hoemazzelloo @ceeeece @discodeakyy @burt-macklin-fbi @killerqueen-gunpowdergelatine @inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs @theonlyone-meeeee

Tags: @harryskillerqueen @violetpond @lovethis-lovethat @allie-of-asgard @alexfayer @sigrid-stans-rogerina @rogers-rhapsody

#ben hardy #ben hardy fic #ben hardy x oc #ben hardy story #ben hardy angst #bohemian rhapsody #angst #love #slow burn #fanfic #story #more than a pretty face story