A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) He's putting on some chill music, switching from his hardcore pound town playlist to something more relaxing. Def ordering Uber eats or Doordash for the both of you. Not hungry? You're getting a little sweet treat then, you've earned it.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Thigh and tummy enjoyer, he loves it when you're built like a Greek goddess with them rolls. (but he'd like all body types too, even if the roll is teeny tiny he loves it)
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) He's not taking any risks, wraps it before tapping it always.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) He often fantasizes about you getting a little tramp stamp (nothing tacky) but just something that screams "I'm with Erik", tattoos mean a lot to him so if you get one in homage to him he's eating it up.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) He had a few man whore days, mostly when he was younger, now he's more of whenever he feels a connection.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) If you're just a fling? Ride him, he absolutely loves it, reverse too. Also when you just straight up sit on his face.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) He goes based off your vibes, if you're needing something a bit more serious and romantic, he's there, but if you need to just forget about the world and laugh he's down for some goofy sex.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Once waxed as a dare, now he just keeps it mostly trimmed.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Same with goofy, he's going based on what you need.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) He'd rather wait until he's with you, but if you're not around for some reason he's thinking about you and can't help himself.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Face sitting, body worship, praise, light bondage he doesn't mind you tying him up but nothing hardcore, maybe some handcuffs or a belt at the most. Lingerie too. Edging.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Your place, he still lives with his parents and you tried it once there but his parents came home early and his brother walked in and it never happened again.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Praising him, telling him how happy you are to be with him. Or showing up in something sexy that shows off your body.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Degradation, not into doesn't really like it, will not do it to you in the slightest.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Massive eater, worships between your thighs all day every day. Plus the whole face sitting. But he's an absolute mess when you blow him.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Slow and sensual until he's about to finish then he's fast and rough.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) is not opposed in the slightest but likes to take his time.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Will try just about anything but he'll ask questions to make sure it's because you're actually into it and it's not something you're using to self-sabotage.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) I'd say a good two, he can last a while too with the whole edging thing.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) Lots and lots, and he uses them. Mostly vibrators, and plugs. Does own a pair of soft handcuffs too, mostly to keep your hands out of the way so he can worship you properly.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Depends on what kind of mood you two are in, if you've both had a hard day he's not teasing you at all. If you're in a playful mood, very teasing.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Whimpering. Lots of whimpering and gasping.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) Has your bite mark tattooed on his bicep. Bragged about it for weeks.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) 6 inches, a couple good veins.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) A good medium, he's ready to go a lot but he also knows when to take it easy and give you both time just to be with each other without sex.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) He's up for a while gaming, having a snack, just vibing.
(A/N: Someone ( @peachesgarden ) wanted a part two so here we are. This is going to be a bit short but I hope you guys enjoy and let me know if you want more Erik content! By the way, this is based off real convos with my husband and my struggles with bikinis. I'm so lucky to have someone who acts like Erik does in this fic <3. Also: just wear the bikini, you look hot as hell trust)
WARNINGS: mentions of past emotional abuse, mentions of body shaming (not by Erik), body issues, mentions of smut, lots of negative self-talk, etc.
What's Playing: "Your Guardian Angel" ~The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
Being with Erik was like nothing you'd ever experienced before, for the first time in your life you felt loved and appreciated for the person you were, instead of what you could offer. Each day that passed you kept expecting for your texts not to go through, that Erik suddenly would decide that he didn't want anything to do with you, that it was all a huge mistake. Yet it never came, whenever you phoned or texted he responded as quickly as humanly possible. It was like he was genuinely looking forward to hearing from you. It was a kind of special that you'd never thought someone like you would ever be allowed to feel. For so long you'd heard from society that someone of your size was disgusting and not worth the air they breathed. To have someone who could see your inner beauty was something that was still baffling to wrap your head around. Sometimes you didn't believe it.
Erik tried his best to make you feel beautiful, to assure you that he loved every curve, but even his best efforts weren't enough to undo a lifetime of negative self-talk. You were doing better now than you ever had, but the pain wasn't gone completely.
It was moments like these, when you'd made the mistake of thinking that you could buy clothes that would make you feel pretty and boost your self esteem. They lay in a depressing heap on the floor, none of them fitting just right to give you the feelings that you wanted. It was even worse trying on bikinis for the summer, you just wanted to look cute, look like everyone else, but the way your tummy fit in the bottoms made you feel like you were putting on an ill-fitting costume. Nothing looked right, and the way your stomach gathered at the front made you wish you were in another body.
Just as you were about to peel off yet another failure your apartment door unlocked and opened. You'd given Erik the key not long ago, he was here so much to avoid having his family pester you with questions anyway that it had just felt right. But that also meant that he could just walk in like this.
"Wait Erik-" You start, but it was too late, he'd already seen you in the bathing suit. It was still overwhelming to watch his eyes widen and the grin spread across whenever he took you in, no matter what you were wearing.
"Damn, when were you going to tell me about this little number?"
"I'm returning it."
His face instantly falls. "What? Why?"
"I look terrible in it, it doesn't fit right, I'm returning it."
Erik's quick to step behind you, running his hands gently over your arms. "What about it don't you like?"
You trace your tummy. "Here, it just- I don't know I don't like it. I look disgusting." You wait for his response but upon seeing his gaze in the mirror he's just shamelessly looking over your curves with a hungry expression. "Erik, did you even hear me?"
"Not really, I'm a little distracted right now babe."
"Stop that."
"What am I stopping?"
"Looking at me like that, like I'm some sexy model."
"But you are." He steps back suddenly, turning away and you can tell he's adjusting himself not so discreetly.
"Are you seriously turned on by this?"
He holds his hands up in surrender. "What do you want me to do? You didn't prepare me that you were going to look like that-!"
"Can you stop lying and just tell me how I look?"
"Fucking sexy-"
"Erik-!"
"I'm telling you the truth-! Look at you-!"
"That's the problem I am-!" You sigh in exasperation and turn back to the mirror only to catch Erik taking pictures of your ass with his phone, biting his lip the whole time. "Erik delete those-"
"Not a chance babe, I am jerking off to these later tonight-" He meets your gaze and his smirk fades to a serious expression. "Unless you want to now-" You give him a look and he quickly drops the subject. "Fine, bad timing. But come on, you look great, honestly."
"You really think so?"
"I told you before, you look like a fucking goddess." He kisses your cheek. "And I am so in love with you, no matter what you look like."
You finally smile. "Thank you Erik."
He gives you another smirk. "No problem babe." Now he presses his lips to your forehead. "You're always the prettiest to me, no matter what."
Prompt: What if you ask Erik to cover up your ex's name tattooed on you?
(A/N: I've been totally into the Erik oneshots so I hope you like this one. Let me know if you want to see more lovelies!)
WARNINGS: mentions of past emotional abuse, body shaming (not by Erik), body issues, needles, tattooing, etc.
What's Playing: "Face Down" ~The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
You'd gotten a tattoo before, you didn't know why you were so nervous. What was it about this that had you second guessing yourself all over again? Or maybe that was the problem from the start, you hadn't taken a second to think things through, instead just deciding that you should follow the voice of others instead of trusting your natural gut instincts. Had you done that you never would've ended up in this mess in the beginning. If you weren't such a people pleaser then you would've said no to a lot more back in the beginning.
But you weren't going to continue to beat yourself up over this, that's what he made you do. Think that you were small and worthless, could never do anything right. You weren't going to allow yourself to stay in the mindset, you were going to be better, to treat this as a stepping off point to something better.
You sit down in the chair, surprised to find someone different than your usual artist. "Where's Stacey?"
This artist spares you a slight smirk. "Some family emergency, Erik. I'm going to be tattooing you today." He notices your slight unease and pauses. "Is that...okay?"
"Yeah totally fine." You sigh. "I just want to get this over with."
"So what do you have in mind?"
"I need this covered up." You roll up your sleeve to show the name you'd foolishly inked into your skin at the request of your boyfriend to prove your loyalty. What a idiot you'd been.
Erik doesn't judge you, merely assessing the kind of work that would need to be done. "So what are we thinking to cover it with?"
"I don't care, just something to get rid of it." You say a little bitterly. You'd walked around with this brand of shame for far too long. "A flower or something I don't know."
He furrows his brows. "You really want to ink something into you permanently and not really know what you want?"
"I just need it gone, that's all. I really don't give a shit what it is so long as it's gone."
Erik can feel something's off, the way that you're acting, how you seem to be avoiding his gaze. The urgency you're displaying when it comes to getting it covered up. A nasty break up by the looks of it, he's seen it a hundred times before. An impulse decision to have some kind of permanent binding to the person you can't see living without, only for it to crash and burn later. He's done that himself before, knows what it's like, the shame and embarrassment of having something that ties you to another person. Friends and family knowing that it didn't work out and looking at the bad decision and you wonder if they're judging you.
"If you're not set on something." He shrugs. "I could come up with something you might like. Just let me handle it."
"So long as it's gone." All you needed was the reminders of him to be gone, to finally break free from this dark cloud that had been holding onto you during your whole relationship. You just desperately wanted to be free.
Erik turns from you to prep his materials. "Leave it to me."
You try not to think about the pain of the needles going into your skin, focusing on something in the shop to keep your mind off of it. It wasn't working, you still felt each stab meet flesh. Erik worked silently, glancing up and noticing your discomfort.
"Need to take a break?"
"I'm fine, I just want this over with." You kept saying that, and he could understand wanting to be done with an ex, but your behaviour was off.
"Got any fun plans this weekend?" He attempts to make small talk, it wasn't really his strong suit, but if it could ease your nerves he'd try his best.
"I really don't want to talk, I just want this over and done with."
He doesn't take your harsh tone too personally. "Okay- forget I asked."
You feel a pang of guilt for being so harsh with Erik when he was just trying to do his job. Yet you don't apologize, this was why your ex was the way he was, you were such a nasty and cold-hearted bitch that of course you can't even have a normal interaction with someone with acting like a total cunt.
After what seemed like an eternity Erik sits back. "We'll call it there for a day, I can get you in for another session next week-" He pulls out his phone work calendar.
"No, no no, I need this completely gone now-"
He holds his hands up in defense. "Hey, I can't do all this in one session you know how long it'll take? Besides, give your body a rest."
"I can't walk around without this done-"
"Relax, I'll get you in as soon as possible and we can keep working on it. But this will take a couple sessions, it's just how it is."
You let Erik wrap it for you, trying to hide the way you fidget, eager to get home, hide away from society like you had been doing since the breakup.
"You sure you're okay?" He says as he wraps it in Saniderm. "I might be just the tattoo guy but I'm also not a bad listener, y'know?"
"I'm fine, thanks." You're quick to leave, rushing home to avoid any more probing questions.
Erik watches you go, something felt off about it. About you. It wasn't his business, wasn't his place. He wasn't even good at this sort of thing. He'd never before had a second thought to what a client was going through, just doing what they wanted as part of the job and leaving it at that. Yet there was something about you that was making him want to know exactly what was bothering you. What was hidden beneath the surface. It was stupid and unprofessional, but something in him couldn't just let it go.
"You're nothing but a fat and ugly whale that I made the mistake of sleeping with. You think that you can do better than me? Really? I didn't say anything when you gained twenty pounds, I stuck by you when no one else would. You know how embarrassing it's been to be seen with a fat bitch on my arm? You're lucky I even gave you the time of day! You should've been grateful instead of getting so full of yourself you think you can do better!"
The voicemail on your phone was one of many, but it never lessened the sting of those words. He'd said those and ones similar many times over the course of your relationship, each time bringing you to tears the way that you were now. You wiped your eyes as you stepped into the tattoo parlor, finding Erik leaning against the counter checking his phone while he waited for you. You already felt guilty for making him wait.
"Alright let's get you back and started." He finally meets your gaze and instantly takes in your puffy and swollen eyes. "Everything- good?"
You shake your head but say. "No, I'm okay."
Erik doesn't push, leading you back to the chair and checking on the healing process already started. "Looks like it's coming along nice. Let's get to it huh."
You follow the same routine as the previous session, you sitting in silence trying to focus on anything other than the pain. Mid-session your phone rings, Erik gives you a minute to pull it out of your pocket, only to see the frown on your face and the way you're on the verge of crying more upon seeing the caller ID. You silence it and slip it back in your pocket.
"That the asshole?" He ventures, making an educated guess.
You nod. "He keeps calling me."
"Block his ass."
"I should I just- it's hard."
"Not really, you go the contact info, hit block caller."
"No I mean that- I just- I can't seem to-"
"Why not?"
You sigh, not even knowing why you're going here with Erik, you knew he didn't really care about your relationship problems, just trying to be friendly. "I guess I haven't quite come to terms that it's over. I broke up with him but I just worry that I won't find anyone else."
"If he's making you freeze up like that from just a call, he's not worth going back to."
"He's the only boyfriend I've had, the only one who puts up with this." You gesture with your free hand.
Erik raises a brow. "With what-"
"Me, my body, my size."
"I don't get it-"
"He's the first guy who's been fine with having a whale of a partner."
"Why wouldn't he-? It's not a big deal you know, plenty of guys like that."
"They're lying. No one wants someone like me, I'm disgusting." You can't help but echo the words you heard so much, cutting just as much coming from your mouth as his.
"Who told you that? This asshole?"
"He didn't have to, it's true."
Erik sighs. "Fucking hell- look, just because some ass-wipe missed out on you doesn't mean that you're suddenly this hideous monster. All the guys who have a problem with someone's size clearly have a tiny dick that gives them body issues so they project it onto everyone else. Trust me, you're not the problem."
"You're just trying to make me feel better-"
"Sure, sure, but I believe it. Only part of history I paid attention to was those Greek statues, sexy as hell, naked with those rolls." He bites his lip to hide a smirk, realizing how perverted he sounds. "Y'know what I mean."
You bite your own lip and look away, your face suddenly feeling hot. You'd never heard someone talk about someone your size like that before, stirring in you the confidence that your ex had kicked down time and time again. You snuck a glance back at Erik, taking him in a little more this time.
Fuck.
Erik watches you leave again, your last session booked for further into the week. The moment you're out of sight he can do himself a favour and slap himself in the face, the sting doing nothing to refocus him. What was he doing? Basically talking about his sexual preferences with a client of all people. His ass was getting fired, there was no way you wouldn't complain. Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? Why couldn't he just put his head down and do what he was supposed to? Why couldn't he get you out of his mind?
He ran his hand through his hair, exhaling slowly with frustration. What the fuck was wrong with him? And why couldn't he stop it? His months of loneliness without anyone was starting to catch up, and he didn't know how to stop it.
The next time you sit in Erik's chair the conversation flows more freely. You open yourself to his invitations of small talk, talking about music preferences, scary movies you'd seen, he even told you a few embarrassing childhood memories to make you laugh. You couldn't remember the last time someone made you feel this at ease, made you feel like doing something stupid.
"There we go, all done."
You look in the mirror provided at your arm. It was a half sleeve, fully coloured but exactly your taste and style. The ugly name of the man who'd broken you down was nowhere to be seen. Instead it was replaced by brilliant colour and designs, while still being for you and your preferences, it was also clearly Erik's artistic expression in it. It was beautiful.
"Thoughts?"
"I love it, thank you- it's perfect."
Erik gives you that signature lopsided grin in the mirror, and you catch his longing gaze at you. Taking you in like your form was the art instead of the ink. It made your face flush again, whole body heating up under his appreciative gaze. He quickly snaps out of it, getting your bill ready for his work.
He busies himself in making sure you were set to leave, not wanting to think about how you were about to leave and not come back for months, maybe not ever. It stung, but he was a professional, he wasn't supposed to cross that line. And if that meant you walked away from him forever and he missed out, then so be it.
"Come back any time for touch ups."
You're all ready to go, yet you hesitate, frozen in front of him.
"Something wrong?"
You weren't the type to be confident, bold, hiding in a box of shame that your ex put you in. But you weren't going to let that rule you anymore. "Yeah actually. Do you want to go out sometime?"
His eyebrows shoot up in pleasant surprise and he can't help the grin that breaks out over his face. "I was hoping you'd say that."
Summary: Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto x human!Reader -> When Erik finds Xavier's school placed in his custody, he's shocked to find there is a Human as part of the staff. And he doesn't know how to feel about it.
Disclaimer: dislike to lovers, friends to lovers, canon divergence, domestic fluff, tiny angst, reader has a brother, teacher!reader, reader gets hurt and Erik takes care of them, bruising, falling in feeling and physically, reader stress bakes, Erik uses his powers to help reader in small ways, banter, little flirting, found family vibes, 7.1k words, meeting the parents, soft intimacy.
When Erik was asked to take charge of Xavier’s School for The Gifted, he wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea.
But, then again, he owed Charles more than a few favours for the pain he’d caused in his life, and the stress. So, he took it in his stride.
And, it was going well.
The kids were safe, they were enjoying their time. Everything was a little more controlled than he would have liked – after all, he didn’t exactly hold Xavier’s mentality of ‘controlling powers in order to fit in’ mentality. But, overall, it was going well.
Until the morning you showed up.
It was still early so all the kids were in bed. Technically, most of the teachers were too. But Erik had found running in the early morning sun was helping with his daily peace.
Which was soon disturbed when he heard a voice behind him.
“Oh, hello.”
Erik hadn’t heard a thing. Not a footstep, not a breath or even the turn of a key in the lock. Nearly dropping his coffee cup, he turned quickly.
“Hello.”
His voice was measured and controlled. He didn’t know you. He hadn’t even been expecting anyone.
You looked around you, taking care as you stepped further into the kitchen. “I’m not an intruder, I promise.”
Erik saw a brief smile on your face. A look that was probably meant to put him at ease. Except, he wasn’t.
“You-You’re Erik, right? Magneto?”
He definitely wasn’t at ease.
Slowly, he moved from his place by the kitchen counter, near the coffee pot, to stand in front of the sink. There was still a kitchen knife amongst the dirty dishes from late last night.
To him, that was the safer choice of metal since a tea spoon likely wouldn’t help if you were about to attack him.
“And who are you, exactly?”
You moved your hand towards your pocket, but watching his reaction, you stopped for a moment. “Just reaching for my badge.”
“You’re a cop?” The question left his lips before he could stop.
But, instead, you laughed. “Oh, no. Well, my brother is. But I’m not.”
From your pocket, you pulled out a lanyard with your photo ID. You worked here?
“I work here. With Professor Xavier,” you clarified.
Erik nodded, and held out his hand. You handed your badge over with ease.
It didn’t look fake. The amount of ID numbers matched, there was a stamp across your photo only visible in certain light, and it had your department title.
Only when he looked at your name did it finally make sense.
It wasn’t much, but there was a physical relaxation in his tense shoulders. “Y/n.”
You nodded with a reassuring smile. “Yeah. I know I’m meant to be on sabbatical but after six weeks with my family, I decided to cut it short.”
“Does Charles know you’re here?” Erik asked you, handing your badge back.
You nodded, accepting it. “I left him a message. Several, actually. He should get them once he wakes up.”
Erik took a look at his watch. Going off the top of his head, and taking the time-zone difference into consideration, it would be at least eight hours before Charles would be waking up – that was, if he was in bed.
“If I had your contact details, I would have left a message with you, too.”
Erik nodded. “Would you mind if I waited to hear back from Xavier before-”
“Oh, oh my– yes. Sorry, of course. Sorry.”
“You said you were with your family?”
“For six weeks. It was meant to be eight, but they can be…a lot. Entertaining and fun, but a lot. Especially when I’m used to this place.”
“And your brother’s a cop?”
“Yeah. A couple kids here got into trouble a while back. My brother found them. Xavier was worried but my brother…he isn’t like the rest,” you explained.
“Because his sister is a mutant?”
You seemed to get a little defensive. “Because the only people he doesn’t care for are bullies.”
Erik could help but laugh a little. “And who is your brother? Steve Rogers?”
“Wasn’t aware you read comic books. You don’t seem like the type.”
Erik shrugged. “I’ve confiscated plenty during classroom hours. Wanted to see what all the fuss is about.”
“Ah.”
Erik laughed. “What?”
“Nothing, just…you already sound like the kinda teacher I thought you would be.”
“And what kind of teacher is that?”
“A hard ass.”
“Excuse me?” Erik raised a brow.
“You heard me. But, ultimately, even if the kids don’t like you now, they’ll appreciate it when they’re older.”
Erik didn’t know whether to be offended, agree with you, or simply say ‘thank you’ and walk away. But, he didn’t have much time to do anything because the phone he’d left on the counter was ringing.
“That’ll be Xavier,” you said.
Erik furrowed his brows, especially since from where you were standing you couldn’t see the caller ID. And he’d given no reaction to alert you otherwise.
“Hello?”
“Erik. Just a quick call to let you know Y/n–”
“Is coming back? I know.”
“Oh, she’s there? Oh, right- time zones. Totally forgot. Anyway, she’s free to start right away.”
“She says she’s got another two weeks-”
“That doesn’t matter much. She’ll start work whether you want her to or not. I’ve found it’s better to just let her do her thing.”
Erik looked over at you, briefly. “So I’m starting to gather.”
Xavier chuckled on the other end of the line. “I’m sure you two will get along like a house on fire. Just…don’t actually set my house on fire.”
“I’ll try not to,” Erik mumbled before Xavier said his goodbyes and wished him good luck.
“Guess I can start unpacking?” You asked, a knowing smile growing on your face.
“I guess so.”
Everything ran somewhat smoothly despite his unease with you. You were a good teacher to your students – they all seemed to be enthralled in your classes – and the extra circulars you ran seemed to produce good numbers.
There was just one thing that bugged him. He couldn’t work out what your mutation was. There was nothing in your work file from Xavier, and each time he asked him, Xavier just replied and said you were gifted.
You seemed to have a knack for knowing who was calling, or who was about to walk into a room. Based on your reactions to the few outbursts that happened in your classroom, you seemed to know what was going on in people’s heads.
“Tea?”
“Jesus-”
You also never seemed to make a sound.
From your place behind the counter, you just smiled – a little smug – at him. You motioned to mug in front of you, as if to ask him again.
“Yes, but, I can make my own.”
You just shrugged. “Suit yourself, but I make a mean cup of tea.”
“I’m sure you do.”
In the quiet of the kitchen, you were aware Erik was watching almost your every movement. The way you picked up the kettle, the tea you chose, what you stirred it with – a spoon or magic.
As he turned his back, opening up the tea cupboard, you didn’t look at him. Just simply said, after a few moments, “Top shelf, right at the back and to the left.”
Erik stilled himself for a moment, before reaching to where you said and he found the box he’d been looking for.
What th-
“Alright.” He turned around quickly.
You paused, the tea spoon you had been using, hanging in your mouth for a moment as you assessed your situation.
“How did you do that?”
“Know where the tea was? Who do you think stocks the cupboard?”
“Not that.” Erik placed the box of tea down as he came to your side. “How did you know which one I wanted?”
You shrugged. “Took a guess?”
“Took a guess?” Erik laughed. “Alright. It’s not just the tea.”
“We have coffee, too.”
“What are you?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. What are you? Because that is something I’ve been trying to figure out. Are you like him? Like Charles? A telepath? Or a psychic? Some kind of witch?”
“Why are you so interested?” You lowered your voice, playfully. “Do you have a crush on me? If you do, you can be a little more forward.”
“Stop messing around.”
You chuckled. “I’m not messing.”
“What are you? What is your mutation?”
“I don’t have one,” you answered honestly.
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop lying.”
“I’m not,” you almost laughed, again. “I’m not lying. I don’t have a mutation.”
You held a steady gaze with Erik, keeping your heartbeat calm. You really were telling the truth.
“You’re not lying…” Erik’s voice came out softer than he’d ever spoken to you. “But Charles said-”
“That I’m gifted?” You nodded. “Because I am. But not because of a mutation.”
“So what’s your gift? Knowing tea preferences?”
You nodded, “Amongst other things. Look, I’m observant. I always have been. My dad was a Detective, my brother’s a cop, my mom was the woman everyone ran to when they needed to vent. I notice things, pick things up. Both emotionally and from off-the-books training.”
“You’re really not a mutant?”
“All human.”
Erik, surprisingly, relaxed. “So how did you end up here?”
“My brother’s a cop. After he found a group of kids hanging round the mall, after hours, he was gonna call it in. Until he saw what they were doing.”
“Do I wanna know?”
You chuckled. “They were training. Mostly messing around, but they were using their abilities. Doing flips and tricks – nothing any standard human could do. My brother called out to them and when they didn’t run, he asked if there was someone he could call to come and pick them up.”
“They called Charles?”
You nodded, picking up your mug and walking over to the small wooden table by the window. Erik joined you.
“He was thankful that my brother wasn’t–”
“A bully?”
“Yeah. Anyway, a couple days later, one of the kids must have wanted to report a missing item or something but didn’t exactly wanna go to the cops and explain how they had lost it.”
“And?”
“Xavier showed up at my house.”
“Why your house?”
“Oh, my brother was having his house exterminated. Termites, just everywhere.” You gave a shiver at the thought. “Anyway, he was staying with me. But, he was out so I invited him in. He wasn’t there long but he must have seen what I was preparing for my classes. Apparently he had an open position at his school and, well, I wasn’t exactly crazy about staying where I was.”
“Why?”
You smiled at him. “Why are you so curious?”
“Can you blame me? I know Xavier is all for mutant-human relations but…I didn’t expect him to have human teachers this soon.”
“Well, if you must know,” you sighed. “My boss was more focused on what the teachers, especially the females, were wearing, rather than what the kids were being taught.”
“I’m sorry.”
You shrugged. “It’s fine. Well, it’s not fine. But…well, I’m no longer there. And, come to think of it, I don’t think he is, either. Pretty sure he moved after his divorce.”
“Good for his wife.”
You nodded. “She’s remarried now, or so my neighbours tell me.”
Erik smiled a little, leaning on the table.
“Go on,” you said.
“What?” Erik smiled.
You leaned on the table, with a smile covered sigh. “I know you wanna know more. So, come on, ask me.”
“Are you sure you’re not a mutant? Mind reader, perhaps?”
You chuckled. “Maybe in another life. In this one, I’m just perceptive. Plus, Xavier warned me you might be nosy.”
“Did he now?”
You hummed. “So, come on, ask me what you wanna ask me.”
That evening, Erik got to know you a little more. More than what was in your file, more than what he was sure you had shared with Xavier.
And you got to know him.
Some of his past – the happier memories, at least. Moments between himself and Xavier, and his surprising ability to be a decent teacher. And not just when dealing with mutant powers.
Only a few days later, things were beginning to change. Erik wasn’t quite as guarded when it came to you. He smiled a little more, he actually walked with you down a hallway without stopping to study you, he didn’t make excuses or hide away.
Deep down, it surprised you.
Professor Xavier had tried his best to explain the man that would be taking over his position in the school whilst he was away. What you could research about Erik Lehnsherr only ever told you one side of the story – not that it was a big story in the eyes of the mass media.
But after spending time with him, getting to know him, he seemed…different.
You could see the sides of him – predict them, even – that others had seen. But you could see something else, too. He wanted what Xavier wanted, but his methods were different. He looked out for the kids, taught them what he knew and what they needed to know – both about the world and the academic version.
But there was still a vulnerability. A softness. Something buried in his soul behind pain and hurt. You couldn’t blame him for burying it.
But it was nice to see it. To experience a side of him that Xavier had told you about. The side of him that smiled, the side of him that laughed, the side of him that opened himself up to happier memories.
Even after Professor Xavier returned, you were grateful to get to know Erik as both a colleague and somewhat of a friend.
“Don’t you think it’s rather dangerous to be climbing so high in your position?”
“And what position is that?” You called down to Erik.
Since the summer months were drawing in, you had decided to start clearing out the botany garden at the bottom of the hill on the estate. So far you had pulled out all the weeds, gathered the broken pots and were now straddling the roof of the shed in order to strip the moss and replace the broken beams.
“You know,” Erik called up. “Human. Last I checked, you don’t exactly have the ability to fly.”
“Technically, neither do you.”
“Technically, I still have powers.”
You chuckled, before concentrating to pull up another stubborn beam whilst also trying to avoid splinters.
Erik felt a little uneasy watching you. “Are you sure you’re safe up there?”
“I’m fine, Erik. Totally-”
The commotion all happened at once. The sound of your voice, a splinter, a crack and then a loud crash.
Erik ran as quickly as he could, whilst making sure the metal brackets inside the shed kept the sides up. He wasn’t about to watch you get buried alive under rotten and unstable wood.
“Y/n!”
You coughed, trying to catch your breath. By the time he got to your side, you groaned.
“Whoa, easy. Take it easy. Are you okay?”
“I think my life just flashed before my eyes.”
Erik tried to keep you still as he checked you over. “Does anything feel broken?”
You shook your head, but instantly stopped. “No. I-I don’t think so, but I think I might have hit my– oh.”
Moving your fingers from your head, you saw red.
“Here, let me see.”
Leaning over you, Erik cradled your head in order to check it. “Is there blood?”
“Yeah. Yeah, there’s blood. We need to get you back to the house.”
You groaned. “Help me up. I can walk.”
Erik shook his head. “You’ve got a concussion. I don’t need you collapsing climbing up that hill.”
“It’s not like you can carry me.”
“Says who? I get I might not be, you know, some world champion body builder, but I can still carry you.”
You laughed, but instantly regretted it since it left your head pounding.
“Okay, come on. Put your arm around me.” Erik kneeled by your side.
“What? No.”
“Y/n, come on-”
“No.”
“Do you always have to be this argumentative?”
“Yes.”
Erik paused to look at you, and you shot him a weak smile. The pain in your head was growing, and you were growing tired.
“Give me your arm.” Erik placed it over his neck and shoulders, placing his arms around your back and under your legs. “Ready, on three. One, two, three.”
Erik stood with you in his arms, and you cried out a little in pain.
“You okay?” Erik asked, his voice worried.
Biting your tongue, you nodded with a hum. “Hm-hm. I’m fine. Just sore.”
“Okay, just…try and hold on.” Erik made his way with you over the debris of the fallen shed and towards the house. “Almost there.”
Twenty minutes later, you were in the infirmary being checked over by the on-site doctor and nurses whilst Erik told them the truth about how you sustained your injuries.
“It wasn’t that high.”
“Yes, it was.”
“Make sure she’s not got any rotten splinters, too.”
“I don’t have any rotten– ow.” You saw Erik smile a little behind his hand as you were given pain-meds. “You’re enjoying this.”
“You almost die-”
“I didn’t almost die-”
“And you still manage to argue with me.”
“It’s a fun past-time.” Your smile quickly disappeared when you were jabbed with another needle. This time, they were drawing blood. “Ooh-ow. Ow, ow, ow.”
Erik held your hand before you hit someone.
“Don’t worry,” he told you. “Squeeze as hard as you need.”
A few hours later, after you’d been subjected to a lecture from Xavier (more than once), you were finally able to get some rest.
Only to wake up feeling worse.
Thankfully, you had no broken bones. You did, however, have one fractured rib, and a lot of bruises that you would be feeling sore for a few predictable weeks.
One afternoon, after teaching a couple classes, you said you were going for an hour-long nap…which just so happened to last four.
Sitting up, you fixed the mid-thigh t-shirt from its twisted state and slowly swung your legs over the edge of your bed. It was dark outside, and so was your room.
Carefully, you stood, trying to avoid the dull pain becoming sharp across your entire body. Only, as you managed to stand, the pain became your consequence.
You managed to reach your bedside table, flick on your lamp, and make your way to the body length mirror in your room when someone knocked on your door.
“Hey.”
It was Erik.
Light from in the hallway flooded your room as Erik stood in your doorway, dressed in- jeans? Most often, he was in business casual. Really, you’d noticed, he only ever wore what he was wearing – jeans, boots and button-down flannel – when he was getting his hands dirty.
Most often, in the garden when he was with you.
“Hi.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” you told him. “Really sore.”
He nodded to where you were holding a hand on your lower back and hip. “Want me to take a look?” Then he held up a pot of balm. “Arnica. It’s…well, it’s meant to help.”
You just nodded and took a breath, before telling him to close the door.
Erik was as gentle as he could be, as he lifted up your shirt. It wasn’t long before he saw the deep purple, black and yellow bruises that trailed up the side and back of your thigh.
The bruises continued up your body and ended just above your rib cage, but Erik stopped lifting when the fabric of your shirt hit your waist.
You were both quiet.
In the mirror, you watched as he tried to hide the pain he felt for you.
“It’s not so bad.”
“Liar,” you replied, your voice quiet but light.
He hummed, “Okay. Maybe it’s a little bad. May I?”
He looked at you in the mirror, and for a vulnerable moment, you held his gaze. You trusted him, you trusted his touch – you trusted he wouldn’t intentionally hurt you.
Unscrewing the jar lid, Erik scooped some of the balm out and warmed it between his fingers and palms.
“Ready?”
Holding onto your window cill to steady yourself, you nodded.
It hurt. Not badly enough to make you cry, or anymore than it would have done if you had done it yourself, but it hurt.
But he was gentle.
Steady and supportive, but still gentle. After a few moments, your skin started to warm under his touch and, rather than tense yourself, you relaxed into him.
“Any better?” He asked, his voice soft by the shell of your ear, and his chest firm behind your back.
You closed your eyes. “Yeah. Thank you.”
For a few moments, you both stayed quiet and soaked in the moment. The feeling of his hands anchored on your hips, your breathing falling in time with his, your heartbeat steadying its rhythm enough to sync with his.
And his lips by your shoulder.
He hesitated for a moment, but ultimately laid a gentle kiss against the fabric of your t-shirt. The second, just by the edge of the fabric, where it met exposed skin. The third just a little higher, fully against your skin. And the fourth, he placed it in the crook of your neck.
“You’re never climbing a rotten shed again.”
A small chuckle escaped you. “You can say that again.”
“Okay. You’re never climbing a rotten shed again.”
You both laughed, Erik stepping a little closer and wrapping his hand and arms a little deeper around you.
“Think you can make it downstairs? Everyone’s already eaten dinner but I saved you a plate. I can heat it up.”
“You cooked?”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
You shrugged, slowly turning in his arms. “What can I say? I didn’t know you could cook.”
Erik smiled, a little coy, at you. “And yet I thought you noticed everything.”
“Oh, ha, ha. Pass me my shorts?”
Hanging over your desk chair, Erik reached for them before lowering himself to his knees.
“I can put them on myself, you know.”
Erik nodded, helping you step into them before he carefully dragged them up your legs. “You're injured. You’re allowed help.”
“I can still get dressed–”
Erik stood, keeping his gaze fixed on yours, whilst his fingers trailed the bare skin of your thighs.
“And yet, you let me help you.”
Erik came close enough for you to feel his breath on your lips. And yet, the gravitational pull you felt towards him, and he felt towards you, he pulled back and took your hand.
“Let’s get you some food.”
Erik stayed with you, walking at your pace, as you both made your way down the hallway, stairs and into the kitchen.
“Ready to show me what you’ve done?” You asked him, long after you had finished your meal and argued with him (but let him win) the ‘who washes the dishes’ argument.
“What?” Erik turned around in the hallway of the kitchen to look at you.
You smiled at him. “You’re wearing jeans and you’ve got dirt under your fingernails, despite the nail brush. Last time that happened to me I was pulling up potatoes.”
Erik sighed, placing his hands on his hips, but couldn’t hide his smile. “It was meant to be a surprise.”
“You couldn’t even hide your tea preferences from me when you were avoiding me-”
“I wasn’t avoiding you,” Erik shook his head.
“Sure you weren’t,” you replied, quickly. “Really thought you could hide it from me?”
Erik looked at you, shaking his leg a little, visibly debating whether to show you or not.
“Fine.”
“Yay,” you cheered, Erik still smiling at you.
“Grab your jacket.”
Grabbing the grey sweatshirt from the bench in the back hallway, you slipped it over your head as Erik opened the back door.
“That’s mine.”
“And now it’s mine,” you said, pulling your hair out of the back.
As you stepped in front of Erik to get outside, he gently pulled the rest of your hair from out of the collar and followed you.
Leaving your shoes inside the house, you walked barefoot through the cool grass whilst Erik’s boots tracked beside you. Reaching the bottom of the hill, you found fresh wooden beams and a full workshop set up.
“Oh, my god, you’re building a shed?” You quickly looked at Erik before looking back to the garden.
All the weeds were gone, the rotten wood had been chucked into a pile fifty yards away, there were freshly built raised beds filled with fresh soil and fertiliser. Some were already growing flowers – they had been replanted into fresh soil. Others were still waiting to bloom.
And then there was the food.
Most of your large-batch plants had been sown into the ground, thanks to Erik. In smaller pots, Erik had managed to salvage some of the herb plants that had been dying away before you fell through the old shed. And, at the very back, behind the half-build shed, was a large basket of potatoes.
“Holy crap, Erik. This is…thank you for doing this.”
“You’re welcome,” Erik told you. “Figured it was the least I could do before I found you here in the middle of the night when you should be healing.”
You hummed. “I have been going stir crazy.”
“It’s been less than a week.”
Erik watched you as you stepped into the garden and traced your fingers over the different petals, flowers and growing food.
“Still longer than a day.”
Erik chuckled.
Turning to look at him, there was nothing but sincerity in your eyes. “Thank you for doing this.”
Erik shrugged. “Can’t have you falling from another shed roof.”
With a chuckle, you took one last look around before walking back through the garden to stand with him. Almost instinctively, he placed his arm over your shoulder and held you against his side.
“We should get back before you catch a chill.”
“Erik Lensherr. Mutant Power: Prediction.”
Erik chuckled, pulling you closer. “Come on.”
“Really, you should ask Xavier if you can get extra powers as you get older. First the roof, now this? Before you know it, you’ll know someone’s tea preference before they do.”
“How did you figure that one out?”
“People have patterns before they notice them. Which foot they lead with, which item they reach for first in a morning, which direction they take during the day. You had to hold two early morning meetings and had a debate club. Every time you needed to wind down, you always reached for the tea at the back of the cupboard, to the left. Since I restocked that cupboard, I figured you’d need some help finding it.”
Erik went quiet for a moment as you both walked back to the house. “You don’t know which foot I lead with.”
“I knew your favourite drink before you realised you had one. Really think I don’t know which foot you lead with?”
Erik paused for a moment and looked at you. “That’s kinda scary.”
A few hours passed with quiet conversations and laughter, before Erik was helping you into bed, but not before you were standing between his legs as he sat on your desk chair and he carefully rubbed the Arnica balm over the bruise spreading across your upper thigh.
You held onto his shoulder for support, and accepted his help when lifting to covers to get into bed.
And, when you asked him, he crawled into bed beside you.
Over time, the dynamic between yourself and Erik was beginning to be noticed by everyone else. The way you moved together – they could practically predict the moment Erik was by your side, his hand would be on your lower back or hip. The way you talked, the way you didn’t talk.
Almost every movement you both made in each other's presence was as if you’d been doing it for a lifetime.
So, when the rain was pouring down over New York – weather you were usually still outside in – and had been stress baking all day, the students knew who to call on.
Rather, who to call on first.
“Do you know what’s up with Y/n?” Charles asked Erik as he entered the library.
Erik didn’t look up from his book. “Why do you ask?”
Charles just smiled at Erik. “You know, even I don’t have to read your mind Erik.”
Laying the book down on his lap, not bothering to remember the last two pages he’d read, he looked to his friend.
Charles just kept smiling. “It’s nice,” he said, “seeing you two together.”
“We’re just friends, Charles.”
“And I’m the King of England. But, seriously. Do you know if something’s happened?”
Erik sat up. “Is she okay?”
He nodded. “She seems fine as far as I’m aware, but a few students have asked me the same question. I figured I’d ask you.”
“Where is she?”
“In the kitchen,” Charles said, a little confused why Erik sounded so passionate. “Baking. She’s…completely fine-”
“What is she baking?”
“She’s just pulled some cinnamon buns out of the oven. I smelled them on my way here.”
Erik sighed, closing his book and standing.
“Erik? Erik, what is it? Is she okay?”
“She-She’s fine. Just…keep people away from the kitchen for a while.”
“Erik? Erik?!”
Erik didn’t turn back. Just simply made a beeline for the back kitchen which was where he found you. It was slightly worse than he was expecting.
It was like a tornado had exploded in the kitchen. An organised one. But still a tornado, nonetheless.
“Honey?”
You didn’t look up. You didn’t even react. You just kept hammering your dough with your rolling pin.
“Okay,” Erik said slowly to himself, bracing himself for whatever was about to happen.
Across each counter was some relevant stage of baked goods. Some still in the ingredients stage, others half way there, and about eight trays of freshly baked cinnamon rolls, blueberry muffins, and a collection of cookies.
It wasn’t like you didn’t bake. There was at least a tray of cookies or muffins each Sunday morning for the students and staff to enjoy. But, when you baked like this? With the anger, annoyance and intimidation of a thousand armies?
Something was seriously wrong.
Erik cleared his throat as he stepped closer to you. “Sweetheart? Can-can we put the rolling pin down?”
You turned to him quickly, making him jump. You weren’t exactly one for violence, but he wasn’t sure what your reaction would be if you were startled.
“Two days!” You yelled. “Two days!”
“Two days for what?” Erik managed to pry the wooden rolling pin out from your hands.
“You’d think-”
You started whipping up a new storm inside the kitchen as you darted around. As you did so, Erik tried to ensure your safety from open cabinet doors, mental utensils that were inches from falling off the counter and into your feet, and death defying climbing escapades in order to reach the top of the industrial sized cabinets.
It had been just over a month since you fell from the shed roof and Erik wasn’t exactly fond of the idea of you repeating your accident.
“After years of teaching, and having cops in the family, I’d know how to lie better. Wouldn’t you? But no! Instead, I’ve become some kind of truth-telling machine, physically incapable of forming a believable lie to my parents. And it’s not even a big lie! It’s a tiny, little white lie.”
Erik followed you. “A lie? What did you have to lie about?”
You turned quickly, pointing a finger into his chest. “I didn’t lie about anything. That’s my issue. I should have, but I didn’t, and now- now, they’re coming here.”
“Who’s coming here? And what should you have lied about?”
You kept walking, but Erik continued to follow.
“I should have said I was fired. Or that the injuries were to someone else. Or that I-I-I don’t work at a boarding school that is off for Spring break.” You sighed.
Erik had to take you by the shoulders. “Okay, just take a breath. What’s actually happened?”
Taking a deep breath, you tried to focus as you told him what had happened.
“My mom called me. She asked about my injuries. I hadn’t told her, but apparently the form that was sent through to the hospital flagged with my name. One of the nurses there knows my brother. She told him, he told my mom and now…they’re coming up here in two days.”
“Your…parents? They’re coming here?”
You nodded. “They don’t like the idea of my getting hurt in the work place and not being told. So, now, they are coming up here to see me. And, before you say…my dad has already said if Xavier says no and doesn’t rearrange, he’ll drop in and make a surprise visit.”
Erik nodded, slowly. “Okay. Does Charles know yet?”
You shook your head. “Not yet. I’m trying to…work out how to word it. Or find a way out of it.”
“Do they know what kind of school you teach at?”
You shook your head. “My brother does. But my folks…I don’t think they’d hold any prejudices but…”
Erik nodded. “You don’t want to risk it.”
You nodded, agreeing.
Erik took a breath. “Well, most of the kids are heading back home for Spring Break tomorrow. They’ll only be a select few here and one of the other teachers can…take them out on a day trip. Maybe your brother can help with that. Does he know how to fish?”
You nodded. “My dad taught us when we were young.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do. In the meantime, you…try not to implode. I’ll go and talk to Charles.”
Placing a kiss on your forehead, he headed for the door.
“Erik-”
He turned back. “It’ll be okay.”
By the time he returned, the kitchen was less Tornado Alley, more…chaotically organised.
“If it helps, Charles seems excited. Apparently his brother had spoken highly of your parents, too.”
“Are you gonna be here? When they arrive?”
Erik started helping you pack away the sweet treats you had already made, into air-tight containers. “Do you want me to be?”
“Yes,” you said. “If-if you’re okay with it.”
Erik smiled, walking over to you. Without a word, he hugged you and you wrapped your arms around him, tight. “Everything will be fine.”
You sighed. “You haven’t met them yet.”
“I’ve met you. And I like you. Surely the people who raised you can’t be much different.”
You leaned your head against his chest. “You say that now, but if you need an escape from my dad’s stories, or my mom’s relentless questions…just give me a sign.”
Erik chuckled, kissing the top of your head. “We’ll be fine. Besides, I’m sure Charles can keep them entertained.”
True to Erik’s word, Xavier did. He greeted them with a warming smile and offered them a tour around the place. He made reassurances for your safety as well as the staff and students. And, he soon got your dad talking about some of his old cases he’d read in the newspapers.
Meanwhile, your mom was practically falling in love with Erik.
You hadn’t mentioned you were dating, or even seeing anyone. You’d introduced Erik, the same way you had done with Xavier. But, even if your dad didn’t visibly notice your slight change of tone, your mom did.
She also recognised the look in your eyes as you looked at Erik. And, she recognised the look in his eyes, too.
A few hours into their visit and a general swap had taken place. Whilst Xavier was showing your mother around the grounds, bringing you with her, Erik showed your dad around the study halls and library.
“Take care of my daughter, Erik. She’s very precious to me.”
Erik nodded. “She’s precious to me, too, Sir.”
From his hand, your dad accepted the drink Erik had poured for him.
“I can see that.”
Erik fell quiet behind his glass. Meanwhile, your father took a sip and sighed.
“Her mother thinks I don’t see what’s going on, and I suspect Y/n doesn’t, either. But I do. You care for my daughter, yes?”
“Very much.”
Your father nodded, satisfied with his answer. “I am aware,” he began, slowly. “Of what kind of school this is. Now, I don’t hold any prejudices or fears. But…I don’t want my child. The one who seemingly should be the furthest away from danger, here…I don’t want to see her get hurt. By anything. Or anyone. Do I make myself clear?”
Erik nodded, swallowing the small ball of fear in his chest. “Yes, sir. I should assure you, Y/n is safe here. The students love her, and she’s fantastic at her job. She does have a tendency to ignore the generic rules of safety-”
Your father laughed, deeply. “She hasn’t changed. Did she ever tell you what happened when she was six?”
“No,” Erik said.
Taking a seat on the sofa in the library, your father invited Erik to join him. He took a seat across from him and listened.
“Her brother had decided that he was too old to play with his sister in the treehouse, so he and his friends had made up a ‘no girls allowed’ rule. Of course, Y/n wasn’t too happy about that. And she tried everything to get into the treehouse and claim her ownership. So, after everything else had failed her, she decided the best course of action was to climb onto the garage roof, shimmy across to the tree on a ladder and make the death-defying jump from the higher branch, and onto the roof of the treehouse.”
“So, her climbing onto roofs isn’t a new concept?”
Your father chuckled. “Oh, no. I got home just in time to watch her land on the roof, lose her grip and hit the ground below. Thankfully, she wasn't so high up that she lost a limb, but she did give me the fright of my life!”
“I don’t know if that story reassures me, or makes me more nervous.”
“Either way, Y/n is…independent. And tough. If you’re going to be her friend? Look out for her. But, if you’re going to be more than that, which, from how you look at each other, I suspect you already are...”
Erik shifted a little, nervous under your father’s gaze.
“Then I ask that you take care of her. In whatever way you can. Just don’t hurt her.”
“Believe me, sir, I have no intention of ever hurting your daughter.”
Your father took a breath, silently but not subtly, studying Erik.
“I believe you.”
Then, clapping his hands, he sat forward. “Now that's been taken care of, we should probably go and find my wife and daughter. No doubt the Professor is feeling the third degree of my wife’s questions.”
Erik chuckled a little, but did let his mask drop for a moment whilst your father’s back was turned. Quickly, he wiped his brow, said a small prayer to whichever God was listening, and led your father to the garden at the bottom of the hill.
It was approaching ten in the evening before your parents – after sitting for a cooked meal from Erik – headed home. And, whilst Xavier made sure all the kids were back and safe in their rooms, you went to find your brother.
“So, how was it?”
“It was good!”
Your brother smiled at you. “Told you there was nothing to worry about.”
Erik appeared behind you. “Hello.”
Your brother looked at you for barely a moment before looking at Erik, trying to hide his smile. Without having to properly introduce him, he already knew who he was.
“Hi,” your brother stuck out his hand and introduced himself.
“Erik,” he replied, shaking his hand.
“Erik, this is my brother-”
“The cop. Charles said the kids had fun.”
Your brother smiled proudly. “Oh, yeah. They’ve learned how to fish, and also what not to do. A couple people almost fell in.”
“Truth,” you said, glaring at your brother.
He turned a little sheepish. “Okay. One.”
“And that was?”
“Me. Okay, it was me. But it was…purely on purpose. You know, to show them what not to, uh,” your brother scratched the back of his head, “what not to do.”
You chuckled, the image of your brother falling into the river playing across your mind.
“But, hey,” your brother smiled. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. Y/n’s told me a lot about you.”
Erik smiled, looking at you a little. “Has she?”
“Oh, yeah.”
You wanted to die. Suddenly, you were fourteen again and avoiding every corridor in your school in fear of running into your crush who your friend asked out for you.
“Uhh, we- we don’t have to do this right here-”
“Non-stop,” your brother clarified, completely oblivious to your mortification.
Erik just grinned like the cat that got the cream. “If you don’t mind me asking, what kind of things has she told you?”
“Oh, well, the usual. Your looks, your personality. Honestly, sometimes it’s kinda annoying. How handsome, tall, smart, funny–”
“Okay-”
“-you are and how she feels-”
You called your brother’s name, but Erik just held out his hand politely.
“Y/n, let the man talk.”
Flicking your gaze between Erik and your brother, you slowly watched the mask on your brother’s face fall. He knew what he was doing.
“Ohh, I hate you,” you grumbled as he started laughing.
When Erik joined him – although deep down it warmed something inside of you, knowing your brother and Erik were getting along – you wanted to kill both of them.
“God, you’re annoying.”
“Oh, come on!” Your brother laughed. “When else can I talk to the man? Besides, he asked!”
You threw your hands up in the air. “You know what, I’m gonna ask Xavier to wipe my memory. You two stand here and gossip all you like.”
Erik shrugged. “It’s interesting gossip.”
You glared at him, but behind the heated look, Erik saw the smile you were hiding. Which, by the time he was joining you in your room long after everyone went to bed, was beaming on your face as he got you to finally admit your crush and subsequent feelings for him.
who will be there for you? comfort and care for you? ⋆˙⟡
pairing: erik | the phantom of the opera x reader
synopsis: erik has endured a lot of cruelty in his life - but you, his angel, the light of his life, must never know. that is, until you discover a memento from his distressing past on accident.
tags/notes: mentions/depictions of child abuse, no use of y/n, no physical descriptions of reader, hurt/comfort, slightly alternating povs, elements borrowed from phantom by susan kay and the 2004 film, erik is bad at feelings, soft!erik, not beta read !
word count: 1.3k
anonymous prompt:
hello!!! It's SO SO rare to find an active blog that writes for poto, so can I request an Erik x reader who's, like, sunshine and rainbows all the time and she's super touchy/affectionate? Hes so used to hate and sadness and people recoiling from him + he deserves somebody sweet who adores him for who he is!!! It could be hcs or a oneshot or literally anything you want, I will take LITERALLY ANYTHING lol. Thank you so so so much!!! Also no pressure to write this if you don't like the prompt or you just don't feel like it. Have a wonderful day/night! :)
author’s note: sorry this took so late nonnie (and sorry i couldn’t attach the ask - the formatting was a bit wonky) ! i loved this prompt and really wanted to do it justice :) the plot just kind of just came to me as i was writing it ⋆⭒˚.⋆
ao3 link
touch. some associate it with the tender caress of a lover, others, the cruel sting of a palm hitting skin. for erik, it had always been the latter; every instance of touch he experienced was accentuated with a pure, unbridled hatred.
until he met you, that is.
he flinched whenever your skin brushed his, at first - too used to the biting ache that would follow - but you persisted nonetheless, gradually familiarizing him to the fact that he was loved. you held him with a tenderness that he never had the chance to experience; brushed your fingertips over his deformity, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
you were an angel, his angel, and erik wondered what he had done to deserve you; he knew full well that he was by no means a ‘good’ man. following the euphoria of your kisses, reassurances, and affection, erik found himself plagued by lingering feelings of inadequacy and the thought that it was all fleeting; that you would eventually turn against him as well.
but how could he burden you with that knowledge? the knowledge that he would never deserve you, and that you would be better off being the bride of a vicomte, instead of being dragged down to the dungeons of the palais garnier with him. the knowledge that his self-loathing was a lasting consequence of the cruelties that were inflicted upon him.
no, you were a glowing ray of sunlight in the darkness of his life, you were the personification of kindness itself, and erik could never forgive him if he somehow sullied the pure joy you radiated with every action. so you must never know.
you must never know, and so erik did his best to hide his past from you: brushing it off with a wave of his hand, an absentminded comment about how “it was nothing, really”, and tying it together with a genuine compliment for you.
you must never know, and erik intended to keep it that way.
one day, whilst finding yourself stuck in a queue at the market, parcels of food under your arms, your eyes wandered onto a rather peculiar poster - one you had never seen before: it advertised a freak show, with the focal attraction being a young boy, no more than twelve, billed as ‘the devil’s child’. although the poster was worn with antiquity, and the illustration was a caricature, you still managed to instantaneously recognize its subject.
could it be?
sacrificing your spot in the line, you moved to grab the decaying poster, attempting not to rip it in the process. as you returned to the queue, the poster in your hands caught the attention of an older woman, similar in age to madame giry.
“ah, i remember going to this show when i was a young girl. it was a long, long time ago,” she remarked, gesturing at your poster.
sensing your opportunity to garner some much-needed information, you asked, “do you know what happened to him? the boy, i mean?”
the older woman grimaced, “they say he killed the carnival-master, strangled him to death with a rope,” she paused, “the police never caught him, and some say he has taken refuge beneath the opera house, and hasn’t surfaced ever since.”
you swallowed. so it really was erik. and yet, you felt a pang of pity and grief for him; all that time you’d been together, you’d hardly learnt anything about his past, about his life before he assumed the title of ‘the phantom of the opera’. what was so dreadful, so distressing, that erik felt like he couldn’t confide in you about it?
paying for your goods, you quickly rushed back to the opera house, masterfully navigating through the numerous caverns as you made your way to your subterranean home. quickly setting down the bags of food onto a nearby surface, you called for a preoccupied erik, composing his latest masterpiece.
“ah, my dear. forgive me, but i did not see you coming in,” erik answered, slightly apologetic.
you smiled in return, although that smile was tainted with the faintest traces of trepidation, as you found yourself completely uncertain at how to ask him.
erik, with his gift for reading people, could sense it too, as he mentally braced himself for your seemingly inevitable declaration that you would be leaving him.
“my love? what is wrong? what is it you want to say?” he asked, voice tinged with fear.
“at the market today,” you started, your voice nervous, “i came across this poster. and i was wondering… if you had any knowledge of it,” you had dropped to a whisper, as you gingerly handed him the poster.
erik staggered back at the sight. how could this have happened? how could you know? his mind was racing, trying to conjure up a multitude of deflections, diversions, and vague explanations that wouldn’t taint your view on the world - the view that there was some innate good in everyone.
“it’s alright if you don’t want to tell me,” you spoke, as gentle and caring as ever, before a hand moved to grasp his cheek, “but, erik… i think it would be really good for you to tell me. you deserve to be unshackled from your past, and i deserve to know about the man i love.”
“no, my dear, i am sorry. i cannot bring myself to burden you with the truth,” erik quickly answered, tears seeping into his voice.
“it’s not a burden, erik,” you countered, “you think of me as too pure for this world, too inexperienced with its cruelties, but i am not. believe me, erik, you wouldn’t be burdening me with the truth. not at all,” you reassured, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.
erik practically shuddered at the contact, as you led him over to the bed. “very well, then,” he finally responded, as you moved his head onto your lap.
“i might as well start from the beginning. my mother was,” erik choked back a sob, “she was cruel to me. she beat me constantly. refused to nurture me, raise me, or even look at me without derision. the first scrap of clothing she handed to me… was a mask.”
erik let out a gasping sob, as you moved to stroke his hair, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear. after what seemed like hours, he finally continued, “i ran away from home at the age of 9, and not long after that… i became part of a travelling freak show, and was exhibited and billed as…”
“...the devil’s child,” you completed his sentence.
“yes. they… they kept me in the cage, hit and beat me in front of those crowds– before taking the sack off of my face, so that the audience could mock and jeer at me. day in and day out, i endured at. after three years, though, i presume that i snapped— and strangled the showman. madame giry helped me escape, and i took refuge beneath the opera house.”
as his tale came to a conclusion, erik finally felt free enough to completely break down crying, to let out the sobs that he’d restrained himself from for who knows how long; he felt free enough to let himself go, with the knowledge that you were beside him, that you would be there to hold and caress and kiss him.
“oh, erik,” you hummed, “thank you for telling me,” and erik only seemed to relax further into your tender touch.
“no, thank you, my love. for giving me the freedom to tell you,” he responded, eyes looking up at you with an all-consuming desire and devotion, “what can i ever do to repay you?”
a suggestive smile appeared on your face, “i know one way.”
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber, Phantom of the Opera (2004), The Phantom of the Opera (TV 1990), Phantom - Susan Kay
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Erik | Phantom of the Opera/Reader
Characters: Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Reader
Additional Tags: Masturbation, Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing, Morning Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Mutual Masturbation, Voyeurism, Reader-Insert, Erik is shy but wants to try
Summary:
Erik has spend the night at your appartment, and wakes up eager to serve you... breakfast... Yeah, let's keep it at that.
