#magento x reader

[kayesfanfics]

Would you be willing to do a Magneto x nonbinary reader oneshot? I just need something fluffy and sweet after everything that happened with episode 5. Smut is okay too, but I’m mostly just here for the fluff.

A/N: YESSSSS Magento is lowkey so hot in this series. SORRY ITS SO SHORT THOUGH I HABENT WRITTEN JUST FLUFF IN AWHILE-

You were stirred awake by the man next to you in your bed, hearing his breath panting harshly. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes before opening them, seeing your husband sitting up in bed, his chest heaving and hands gripping the sheets next to him. You slowly sat up and raised a hand to his bare chest, feeling his heart pounding and a sheen of sweat coating his body. You looked at his face in concern, his eyes shut as he removed a hand to comb through his grey hair, attempting to calm himself.

“Erik?” You asked, giving him a small smile when he opened his eyes to look at you. His expression softened a bit as the hand in his hair moved to hold your face gently, his thumb rubbing your cheek as you leaned into his touch.

“I apologize for waking you, meine Liebe.” He spoke softly before pressing his forehead against yours, his body calming at your touch as you moved your other hand to rub his back.

“Don’t apologize, my love.” You responded, pressing your lips to his and giving him a sweet kiss. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I suppose I’m just a bit stressed out lately.” He admitted pulling away slightly to look you in the eyes. “What with the team and all.”

“Of course, you’re under a lot of pressure.” You smiled, wanting to be there to support and help your husband. “They will accept you soon enough, you just have to show them that they can trust you.”

Erik gazed at you softly, giving you another kiss before he got up out of bed. You lied down in bed and watched him walk to the bathroom, turning the sink on and washing his face. You smiled fondly as he brushed back his damp hair, watched him take a deep breath before patting down his face with a towel, then turning his attention to you and smiling just as fondly. He felt so lucky that such an amazing person such as yourself, always so supportive and loving to him and his goals. He chuckled when you moved over and lifted the blanket, inviting him into your arms. He left the bathroom and got back into bed with you, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you flush against your body, making you laugh as he held you like a teddy bear. You pressed your face against his bare chest, smiling as he kissed you on top of you head, his large hand holding you between your shoulder blades to keep you near.

“Ich liebe dich.” He mumbled against you, his chest rumbling as he did.

“I love you too, Erik.” You smiled against him, pressing a kiss to his chest before shutting your eyes to drift back to sleep.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Yandere Baby Daddy Erik Lehnsherr

As a yandere, he is extremely protective of the object of his affection, often to the point of obsession. He goes to great lengths to ensure your safety and will do anything and everything in his power to keep you close. He can be very clingy and possessive, often hovering over you and wanting to know your every move. Erik also has a jealous streak and will not tolerate anyone else getting close to you. He is also manipulative and will use his powers to control those around you to keep you safe.

As a yandere baby daddy, Magneto would likely be very overprotective and possessive. He would want to keep you close and under his watchful eye at all times, especially if you are carrying his child. He would be extremely jealous and paranoid that someone might try to take you or the baby away from him.

Magneto would also be very controlling, not wanting you to go anywhere or do anything without his permission. He would want to be very involved in the pregnancy and childbirth and likely would demand to be present for all medical appointments related to the baby.

In addition, Erik as a yandere baby daddy would likely be very possessive of the child after it's born. He would not tolerate anyone trying to come between him and the child, whether it be family members or close friends.

He would demand that he be the primary caregiver and would not want you to have any other support system in place. Erik would be extremely territorial about parenting decisions and would want everything to be done his way, with little room for compromise or discussion.

As a father, Magneto would likely have a bit of a tough love approach. He would expect his children to be strong and powerful, just like himself. He would push them to their limits and expect them to live up to his high standards. That being said, he would also have a soft spot for them. He would protect them fiercely and be very possessive of them , and would do whatever it takes to keep them safe and happy. Erik would probably be quite strict with them but also very loving in his own way

Erik would take parenting very seriously. He would provide for the needs of his children, both physically and emotionally. He would make sure they are well fed, clothed, and provided with whatever else they may need.

He would also teach them about their mutant abilities and how to use them to protect themselves. Magneto would also be very protective of his children, wanting to keep them nearby and under his watchful eye at all times. He would be very loving towards them, but also strict and authoritative when necessary.

Magneto is not the most expressive or affectionate person, but he shows he cares in his own subtle ways. He is very protective and possessive of those he cares about, and he always makes sure that they have what they need.

He may not always say it out loud, but his actions speak louder than words. He will do anything to keep them safe and make sure they are comfortable. Erik also shows his affection by being very attentive to the needs of those he cares about. He pays close attention to their moods and reactions, and tries to anticipate their needs before they even have to ask.

Magneto's love and affection for the partner of his child (or children) would be intense and all consuming. He would be incredibly possessive and protective of you, watching over you closely and making sure you have everything you need. He would be very attentive to your needs and would constantly want to be near you, wanting to be in your presence at all times.

Erik would be very defensive if anyone or anything threatened or tried to take you away from him. He would go to any length to keep you safe and make sure you are comfortable and happy.

Magneto's desire for more children would likely be driven by his possessive and protective nature. He would want to ensure the survival and continuation of his lineage, and having more children would give him a sense of security and power.

He would probably want a large family, as many as he could have, and would be very involved in the lives of his children, wanting to make sure they are strong and able to protect themselves. Erik's desire for more children would ultimately be rooted in his desire to have control and leave a legacy.

If the children were closer to his darling than they were to him, Magneto would likely experience feelings of jealousy and possessiveness. He would feel threatened by the bond between you and the children and would want to do everything he could to break it.

He would likely try to assert his dominance over the children and would want to be the one they look up to, not you. Magneto would not want anything or anyone to come between him and the children, and he would likely resort to manipulation or even violence to keep them close to him.

During your pregnancy, Erik would likely be very protective and possessive. He would want to be there for every scan, doctors appointment, and even every movement he could feel from the baby.

He would demand to be there for the birth and would want to be the first one to hold the child. Magneto would also be very attentive to your needs, wanting to make sure that you and the baby are healthy and comfortable. He would probably be very clingy and want to be near you at all times, even more so than usual.

After the baby is born, Magneto would likely be even more protective and possessive than he was during the pregnancy. He would want to be near you and the baby at all times, never wanting to let them out of his sight. He would be very vigilant, watching for any sign of danger and would be quick to act if he felt anything was amiss.

Erik would also be very attentive to the baby, wanting to spend as much time with them as possible and to be the one to hold them the most. He would probably be very possessive of them as well, not wanting anyone else to touch them except for you.

Given his possessive and demanding nature, it's likely that Magneto would want to have another child as soon as possible. He would likely want to expand his family and have a large number of children, not wanting to wait too long before getting you pregnant again. Erik would likely be very impatient.

If the child is a girl, Erik would likely feel a different range of emotions than if it was a boy. He would be just as possessive and protective of her as any of his children, but he may also feel a sense of pride in having a daughter. He would likely want to raise her to be strong and powerful, just like himself, and would want to teach her to be confident and independent. However, Magneto may also be more vigilant and protective of his daughter due to the potential dangers that she may face as a female.

If the child is a boy, Erik would likely experience a sense of joy and pride in having a son. He would want to raise his son to be strong and powerful, just like himself, and would teach him to be confident and competitive. Magneto would also want to mold his son in his image, and would likely want to pass on his beliefs and values to him. He would likely be more lenient and accepting of his son's mistakes and shortcomings than if it were a girl.

One thing that Magneto would often tell his children is the importance of being strong and powerful. He would impress upon them the need to be able to protect themselves and those they care about from harm. He would tell them that their abilities, whether they are mutant or otherwise, are nothing to be ashamed of and that they should be proud of who they are and what they can do.

"You are mine. You belong to me and only me. I will protect you, provide for you, and make sure you are always safe and happy. But you must obey me and follow my rules. I do not tolerate disobedience or defiance. You are mine and I will do whatever it takes to keep you close and under my control. You are my everything and I will not let anyone take you away from me. Do you understand?"

[caxapthecat]

i don’t care if it’s controversial to say magento is right and we should praise him for it. fuck it. he’s hot.

You might be asking yourself, “How does that make him a better person than Hitler if he creates a mass genocide?”

#1 it doesn’t.

#2 it’s is own race

#3 his race can breathe fire/ice, fly, move things with their mind, manipulate people with their mind, have super strength, and shoot laser beams out of their eyes, shape shift, change the weather, climb up walls, create more of themselves, run real fast, and instantly heal. i think ima let this one go. plus he’s hot. and gay.

[especiallythewomenandthechildren]

The Tragedy of What Was (pt. 2)

masterlink

A/N: yeah no yall im alive yet have no life (school and life are coming for me). im so sorry it's literally been MONTHS but uhm here is whatever this is. Transaltions are at the end for the german words (pls dont kill me i used google translate) pls pls let me know your thoughts:)

warnings: unintended self harm, allusions to depression, bad grammar and spelling.

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。..✭・.✫・゜・。.

Wistful wind caressed your strands as it fleeted through your hair. The Geneva winds were kind on the sunny day as you sat on the cherry brown bench. Pen and leather-bound journal in hand, the words on your page turned blurry when your focus shifted.

The new metropolitan park was not too busy during the midday, which was likely the cause of your attention shift. A few feet in front of your feet, a deep charcoal grey pigeon rested awkwardly due to its pain in its left wing. The angle of the wing was unnatural, but you knew not from vision but feel. The alignment of the bones was all wrong, and it pierced through the status quo of the bird's natural gravity. Quiet, weeping chirps were all the poor creature could manage.

Your grip on your journal tightened as you focused on the world and air around you. A breath in, and it felt like surfing on smooth liquid; you felt all the slight crevices and edges of the snapped bones in the pigeon’s wing. A breath out, paired with a sharp call of pain, and the wing was returned to its natural state. You watched as its yellow beady eyes scanned in amazement while it flapped its wings over and over again, testing out the sudden fix.

Within a few moments, the small creature trusted your care enough to take flight, a successful venture that brought a satisfied smile to your lips. Even if small, it brought you a special kind of warmth to know you helped just one living creature live life a little easier. You didn't interact much with people, so your "patients" were often the concerning amount of injured animals who occupied the various cities across the globe you were dragged along to.

It was an odd life you walked in. Your days were spent in peaceful parks, calm cafes, and buzzing bookshops. So surrounded by life, yet you felt you lacked one of your own. Your train of thoughts was starting to buzz in a headache, but you were never good at regulating yourself as the spiral began. The years of a singular chase — Sebastian Shaw — were coming to an end as each lead got you and Erik oh so close. A thought that should have made you happy but only had your body feel unbearable with the weight of your anxiety about the future. You had no proper education as your childhood was spent moving from place to place. Those days after the camps.

The breath you were seemingly holding let itself out in a painful escape. You needed to clear your mind of such consuming thoughts or at least do it in a fashion that did not play into your body's instinct to cause self-agony. The more you tried to stop, the more the pain in your skull intensified. Flashes of knives, sounds of buzzing, and hands — crack! One tiny little burst in the rough surface of your skull. A pattern that would have likely continued if not for the rough voice breaking you out of the tunnel of misery you were sure to experience.

"And how many birds have to thank you today?"

Erik's impressive height had you turning your head upwards, ignoring the pain raging through your head. He wasn't ignorant to your tendencies, but rather the intensity of the involuntary reactions. So you tried your best to hide it behind a smile and harshly crinkled eyes hidden behind a chic pair of white sunglasses.

"I'm not one to keep count, but if you must know... four. I'm starting to get concerned about how many I've had to help out."

You get off the bench and walk beside your older brother as he lightly scoffs at your response. You quickly pack away your very light leather-bound notebook, the mass you manipulated a long time ago to make it easier to carry around.

"The reach of humanity's cruelty is not surprising."

Even behind the dark-lensed glasses and Erik looking forward towards the busy street, you made a show of rolling your eyes.

"All this talk, yet I don't see you protesting for birds' rights."

It was then his turn to roll his eyes as his rigid posture made its way across the newly paved crosswalk. He never said a word of where he was taking you two, but that wasn't a new aspect of your very complicated brother. You could only assume it was back to the hotel you rented out only yesterday so you could check out and travel to yet another place on your wild goose chase. The globe-trotting would have been endearing if it wasn't fueled and caged within the confines of brutal revenge. A revenge you have rarely taken part in as Erik deliberately left you behind on his deliberation missions.

You weren't bloodthirsty like Erik, not that you blamed him. He took the hits twice as hard, once for himself and once for you. Though he could not stop all the attacks; reality still drew its blood. Suddenly, you realized that Erik had yet to elaborate on his meeting with the Nazi associate at the bank. You stared at him expectantly. He couldn't feel glances and other movements as tangibly as you, but you knew this wasn't ignorance.

"So..."

The tall man took a short look to his left toward you to silence any pestering questions when he was taken aback.

"Are those new glasses?"

You ignored him swiftly, fighting the twitching need to adjust them. "I was right, wasn't I?"

"That's the third pair in a month, Y/N."

"Argentina. I've been saying this for how long?"

"Y/N." His tone was grave and pertinent, but you couldn't succumb. You didn't want to acknowledge the truth, so you kept up your mask of smugness.

"I think this confirms that I indeed do have a second mutation that lets me see the future."

All cheery brags were halted, as was the entirety of your body. You kept your eyes forward as your weak defense, in the form of the cream-colored cat-eye glasses, was swept away and pulled effortlessly into Erik's calloused fingers.

Trying and failing, you hissed in pain as the afternoon light burned through each river of blood splattering your eyes.

You hissed as the sunlight stung your eyes. In an instant, the intense light dimmed as your eyelids shut in an effort to protect your sensitive irises. You walked so perfectly and casually that no one would even realize you had no vision. The vibrant feeling of every object and organism called out, guiding you along the way. One good thing about shutting out the visual world was avoiding Erik's disapproving glare.

"Why are you wearing these?"

Eyes still shut, the invisible strings pulling on every fighting molecule tugged the now slightly broken accessory. It was incorrectly angled, a problem likely caused by Erik's careless and harsh grip. You really liked that pair. Though that wasn't much of the reason why frustration began swirling in your heavy sighs.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the little fact that my eyes are blood-busted? Who would have thought having nerves that self-explode would cause some sensitivity!" you grumbled. "Stop thinking I'm ashamed of my mutation, Erik. My injury makes me sensitive, and while the sun burns the normal retina, it boils me alive. It's a shield from the sun, not my identity. Like I've been explaining for the past decade."

You muttered the last part, feeling a slight insecurity. Over the years, your vision had cleared up, but you still had the scars. Swirling snakes of crimson still slithered in your glassy orbs, even all these years later. Your body and mind grew, yet those eyes remained the same. A symbol of a scared little girl. One who couldn't hurt a fly but could shatter each one of her bones in an instant.

Erik huffed as if he didn't fully believe you, which he likely didn't. He doubted the only thing bothering you about your eyes was the pain and not what caused it. "Something is still bothering you. Your eyes have been more sensitive than usual, isn't that so? You keep breaking glasses."

You opened your mouth to argue when he hit you with an argument you couldn't deny.

"The air around you is suffocating at night when I come back or wake up early. Like when we first left the camps."

You felt your heavy breaths settle uncomfortably in your paused lungs. Swiftly, the fashionable glasses were back on your pretty face. They were only a centimeter crooked. A lone tear protruded from your lacrimal and slid solemnly down your cheek. Erik felt the atmosphere becoming colder, even though there had been no shift in the general temperature. He knew you wanted the conversation to end, but you couldn't keep ignoring whatever was eating you alive because, one of these days, it would physically crush you. Your emotions had been playing roulette with your psyche and connected body for far too long to keep getting empty bullets.

The looming hotel leered from above you as you walked through the shiny revolving door effortlessly. Your strides were far shorter than Erik's long legs, but you were stubborn. A trait that he dreaded being on the other side of. Finally, your legs were forced to pause their march as you awaited the luxury elevators.

"What is it that you cannot talk to me about?"

Dark-lensed glasses still on inside the artificially lit hotel, you kept your head forward. The air still acted like guards from Erik's inquisition.

"So, Argentina?"

The tall man huffed, knowing if he pushed any further, you would push yourself into a new set of injuries. Numerous past experiences taught him the extent of your uncontrollability.

"We are leaving tonight. Pack your bags."

Ding!

"Never have enough time to unpack anyways."

And with that, you slipped through the doors of the gold-encrusted elevator.

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。..✭・.✫・゜・。.

The Argentinian sun rays were blissful upon your skin—a welcoming feeling after the odd prickles of discomfort dancing upon your goosebumps. Though the break was short-lived. Following the same pattern you had since the '40s, as soon as your feet touched foreign ground, Erik went off on his own. As you walked across the dirt and stone streets of the small rural town, surrounded by beautifully secluded mountains and lush greenery, you felt just as grown as you did when you were 10. The feeling of uselessness was one you had never gotten used to—just one item on the exhausting list. Self-pity had never done you any good, so the tiny, warmly inviting shop seemed like a good distraction.

Your deep maroon leather notebook had filled its last pages, much to your irritation, on the plane ride over. Writing was always your one sure cure for clarity, and you wrote as much as you could in the metal contraption flying unnaturally through the air. You felt everything too vividly, and it suffocated you. You often wondered whether or not Erik enjoyed being surrounded by so much power, though you never managed enough courage to ask.

The colorful bells rang above your head as you smiled at the dark-haired, pretty woman behind the counter. Walking straight into the nearest aisle to avoid conversation, it found you regardless. As you were taking off your glasses to observe your surroundings, you found yourself right in front of what you were searching for—an array of bound journals shining beneath the sunlight. Squinting to adjust to the light change, you realized that your sudden stop wasn't due to a wall but rather a middle-aged man with fair brown hair, pale blue eyes, and a thick mustache.

Your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden collision. The sight of your reaction caused the man’s own eyes to mirror your expression. It was hard not to feel ashamed and timid as he took his time gawking.

Turning away, you focused on a rich blue version of the journal you already had. The urge to hide from his stare behind your glasses tugged at your heart while your fingers shakily grasped the journal. The look in his eyes reminded you of men so sinister they transcended the bounds of the moniker.

“Do not be ashamed, leibling.”

The roughness in his aged voice was oddly laced with a smooth layer of reassurance. The warm blood flowing in your veins halted at the term of endearment. He caught onto your surprise and gave a sigh of acknowledgment.

“I can always tell a beauty from the motherland. Far too many have been running away here. Though that would make me a hypocrite, no?”

You looked at the unnerving man. Keeping silent would only do you more harm than good.

“I was not sure I was so noticeable.”

You didn’t want to be. You never were. All you wished was to be in those lush fields you saw on your way here. Away. Far away from the watchful eyes of those gray memories.

“I am not here to stay. Business trip with my brother.”

The sound of your stutters in your mother tongue made you cringe. It had been so long since you’d had a lasting conversation with someone in German. The only times you ever practiced it consistently were in your writings and mutterings to yourself. Erik stopped using it with you a few years after you turned your back on Auschwitz. Only in anger did the tongue of your lineage emerge.

The man took in your answers, stepping closer into your personal space.

“Ah, I am impressed with a man serving his people. The ones of true worth, not those cowards letting our land be split apart by those Americans and communists.”

You could feel the spit and hatred mix together as he spoke. The tubes stationed within your throat felt constricting. The work and people the man was referring to sickened you. It disgusted you that you could so easily be mixed up with your torturers. Self-hatred settled itself on the six inked numbers on your left forearm.

“Your father, where was he stationed?”

The dark numbers and darker memories felt as if they would burn their way through your thin sleeves and lies. The gulp in your throat reverberated through your weak, trembling body.

“Auschwitz.”

Your tone was as grave as the site. As grave as the one your father deserved instead of the trick of a shower. Muscles around your eyes yearned to twitch. Your forearm felt as if it were being carved all over again, this time with shame instead of ink.

An amused laugh scratched its way past his lips. He cackled.

“A man of honor. Tell him and your brother to visit the bar just outside of town. He shall be met with the last men of purpose.”

The contents of the aisle spun around your vision as the man clasped your shoulder and walked past. There would be no need to tell Erik of the small bar. You knew he was already there and would be the last man to leave alive. So much for those great “men of honor.”

Maybe if you had even tried to shift your focus onto anything else, you wouldn’t have had a mountain of emotion embodying itself on your shoulders. But you had given up on that battle a long time ago. The last time you tried, you nearly split your brain physically in half.

In the meantime, you tried to walk out of the shop quietly, but you heard the splintering of the wooden door as your panic did what it does best—ruining its surroundings. You had no choice but to run to your small hotel room, as if any slower steps would leave you sinking into the earth. A new place on the wide planet, the same stares and distress.

Making it to your room, you should have known better than to collapse on your bed, as it did just that—collapse beneath the weight of your turmoil. You could feel the pricks of wood and springs, but you could focus on healing later. Right now, all your mind could replay were insistent flashbacks. That man from the store shape-shifted in your memory to endless faces of torturers. The countless men and women who looked at your small body, not as a child, but as a simple experiment.

Number 214783.

Screams ripped past your resistant cords as scratch after scratch cemented themselves temporarily into the permanent mark of your worth. Of your place.

It was several hours later, in the darkness of night, when your gravitational sense felt a resistance. A resistance that naturally came after one of your breakdowns. And as always, it was Erik who was trying to push against your invisible walls.

You made no move to open the door he was so insistent on bending to his will through mere strength. The room was pitch black, and you were covered in debris when Erik finally managed to get through the stiff gravity. He didn’t need to turn on the lights to know what he would see. Yet, the artificial lighting burned your retinas anyway.

“Whatever this is, it isn’t healthy. Why don’t you let me help you, Liebling?”

The nickname made you flinch—a movement visible as the debris surrounding you did a little shake in apprehension. You manipulated your gravity to ease yourself onto your feet and look around at yet another mess you caused. You could feel a bit of stabbing in your shoulders from wooden splinters, but those were quickly sorted out as you used your mutation to clean the chaos out of your body and off the floor. With too much ease from too much practice, you were able to get the bed back into a condition good enough for use. You really wished you’d gotten the journal before you had your breakdown.

“Y/N—”

“Is this what my life is?”

Erik Lensherr is not a man of many words, but that does not mean he gets speechless. He seldom does, but this was one of the rare moments. You stared out the window at the dim lighting dancing in the town center.

“Just following you around, doing all the real work while I sit here and destroy everything I touch?”

“That can be controlled. You losing your life cannot. We’ve talked about this before, and the answer is still no.” Erik’s firm voice only seemed to infuriate you further. Is this what the edge felt like?

“What life?! I am sick of being sick! I am getting hurt doing nothing; at least let me do so while doing something worthwhile.”

“You are doing something worthwhile by making sure Mama’s daughter lives! I am not disappointing her by letting you do something so reckless.”

This was meant to make you back down. Echoes of the same message from all the years flowed through your ears, but all you could hear was the ringing of anger and a migraine.

“You speak of making her proud? How about I avenge her?! She was my mother too!”

“I can do it enough for the both of us!”

You could feel the metal shake before you saw it happen around you. The keys, the lights, that accursed coin. The look of horror on your face snapped Erik out of his fit of anger, bringing him back to his senses—a trait of his you have always been envious of.

There was no more point in arguing. There didn’t feel like much point to anything lately. You laid down gently on the bed this time, not even bothering with the blanket, simply turning your back to the one person who claimed to love you.

“Liebling. Please, I am only worried about you.”

You left his confession to mingle with your silence as you closed your eyes. It would only be a matter of time before Shaw would have to face the Lensherr wrath. Not just Erik’s, but as you swore to yourself, yours too.

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。..✭・.✫・゜・。.

Turns out that moment came far sooner than expected. After yet another trip, you expected it to be one that blended into all the others. That was until you caught onto the tension surrounding your brother. You kept your eyes down on the small book you managed to snatch from the lobby downstairs. In the corner of your eye, you saw him in a fully black outfit, seemingly ready for a swim. He grabbed an overcoat, and before he left the room without saying a word about his whereabouts, he turned to you.

“Tonight, we make our parents proud.” He closed the door in your face.

You had only moments for action. He was right. You both would make your parents proud.

One look at your outfit and it was clear you did not plan for the assassination of a former Nazi official. With a sleek pair of brown slacks and a black turtleneck, you were at least grateful it was dark and warm enough for the cold night air.

Erik’s tall frame was easy enough to follow, though his constant scouring behind him and around made it a constant game of hide and (hopefully) no seeking. After the 20-minute chase, the ultimate destination presented itself. A lit-up yacht was lounging restfully upon the languid water. A deep breath, a jump, and Erik landed in the water. Not a moment was wasted as he made his way through the cold, dark liquid. If he was making his way, then you needed to.

All you wanted to do was scream as the temperature began seeping into your veins, but if you stood around in discomfort, it would overcome you. You didn’t have much experience swimming, but you used your mutation to glide without much hardship.

The megaboat presented itself far too quickly for your taste, as did Erik’s jump onto the surface. A man so focused was rare to see, but it was clear, even from your lowered position, that only one thing was playing in his brain. You swam to the very edge of the boat by the ladder, and that’s where you witnessed the knives being pulled by your brother. Even more so, the symbol engraved on it. Sebastian Shaw was going to die by his own legacy.

You had just jumped onto the boat when Erik’s frame entered the boat lighting and Shaw’s sight.

“Herr Doktor.” The man—the monster—had finally come face-to-face with his own monstrous creation. No fear seemed to present itself in his voice, though, as he only greeted Erik with an odd surprise of delight.

“Little Erik Lensherr.”

Even though the knife was on full display, his blonde companion was quick to broadcast his intentions. “He is here to kill you… and he isn’t alone.”

Well, that wasn’t planned. With no choice but to come out, you realized that you were grossly unprepared. You brought no weapon other than your mutation’s unpredictability. Though, as you came face-to-face with the man who had haunted every thought you’ve had since you were six, you were certain that a chaotic outburst wasn’t too far away. Hopefully, you could aim it this time. As surprised as Shaw was, it was nothing compared to Erik’s surprise. Maybe you should have just stayed at the hotel.

“Ah! Two makes a party! It’s a shame that, even grown up, you haven’t learned manners. Come on now, this is not the type of greeting. After all these years?”

Suddenly, piercing scratches engraved their way through your ear canals and into your brain. Sounds of drilling, shrieks, and electricity all began buzzing and mixing together as one face came into focus: Sebastian Shaw and his sick satisfaction at your torture, which he labeled “experiment.” You noticed Erik was on his knees yet broke free and took his chance by throwing the knife, guiding it through his own mutation. This break of focus by Emma Frost gave you liberation of your own mind and the opportunity to strike.

As Emma flung Erik over the boat’s edge, you took your time to fight back. In her diamond form, you swung into the air, hitting no target with your physical knuckles but using the gravity around her to make your impact, seeing a satisfying crack in her diamond coating.

“Well! Young Y/N fighting back!” Shaw's disgustingly gleeful voice rang through the air, distracting you just enough for Emma to nearly repeat the same move she used on your brother. But you were fast. Grabbing her arm, you used a few moves you managed to learn from Erik's very limited fighting lessons. Kicking her firmly in the stomach was enough to deceive you into believing you had a chance—until coast guard lights began lighting up your scene. Even with spotlights on you, you weren't going to let your shot at Shaw miss.

You fully lunged for the despicable man, until suddenly your feet were no longer touching the ground. Looking down, you saw the boat at least 40 feet below you, and as you turned your head upwards, you were met with a devilish face snarking back at you.

“He doesn't need two of you.”

You were no stranger to pain. Crushing, slicing, and even nerve-shocking pain were unfortunate realities of your mutation. But the feeling of stabbing was different—not a thousand little pricks, but a clean slice across your stomach. As was the sensation of it being ruptured and invaded by the dropping air, as the grip on the front of your black sweater let go. You could hear metal rampaging through the yacht, knowing Erik was doing what he was bred for: pain and destruction. While you were doing what you were bred for: failure embodied on a chopping block.

Your mutation worked instinctively to protect you from death upon impact, but the frigidness seeped into your wounds as crimson began coating the already dark waves. Even with the softened impact, your lungs still had the air knocked out of them, which you naturally gasped to regain, yet only took gulps of salty water flavored with copper blood.

Eyes closed, your connection to Erik was still too strong. The connection to all the forces was too strong. You could feel the submarine slipping away, along with your consciousness. If death already had you in its grasp, you might as well play your last laugh in life.

With every last cell marked with the pesky X-gene, you bent gravity to your will to lift the submarine. Slowly, the ocean's grip on the metal contraption began loosening as it was exposed to the night air. It was becoming excruciating as the salt penetrated your exposed flesh and water filled your lungs as you began laughing. You were happy you were in the water when the tears came. At least when Mama saw you, she wouldn't be able to tell the tear stains. If you died laughing, maybe Erik would somehow hear it through the ocean's enveloping waves. At last, you would be at peace. The darkness that overtook your eyes then overtook all your senses, leaving you an unconscious hope drifting at sea.

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。..✭・.✫・゜・。.

Charles Xavier has known humanity more intimately than potentially any human before. Yet that fateful night in 1962 was one that changed his perspective on it more than any of the prior decades of his telepathic existence.

All he was meant to do was invade the mind of one Sebastian Shaw, help with world peace, and get started with his teachings as an official professor. Though, nothing worthwhile in life is planned. When Charles realized that the water was not free of occupants, he rushed to save Erik from drowning himself. Until he realized that there was a soul drowning beneath the waves and one suffocating above in the night air.

“Oh my God,” a horrified Moira could only gasp as two figures levitated above in the moonlight before one simply poofed away while it seemed a girl dropped at a concerning speed. In an instant, Charles made a plan and prayed that it would work for the lives of the two strangers and his own conscience. The water was unwelcoming to Charles as it clung to him, trying to drag him down, but he was defiant as he latched onto the tall man in front of him.

“You can't! You'll drown! You have to let go. I know what this means to you, but you and your sister are going to die. Please, Erik, calm your mind.”

The sensation was all uncomfortable and intrusive to Erik, but the one thing that made him refuse all his instincts to keep going was the mention of his beloved sister, you. The two men emerged from the icy domain of the water, and as all questions of who this strange voice in his mind was, Erik had only one thing on his mind:

“Where is she?!”

Very distantly, Charles could feel the last grasp of consciousness and knew time was of the utter essence.

“She is not far, but we have no time to lose. Can you pull her with your ability?”

Out of breath and in far too many layers of confusion and panic, Erik had no hesitation as he stuck his hand out, praying you had enough metal upon you for Erik to use. Thankfully, you decided to wear the very first necklace Erik had gifted to you after your escape for Hanukkah. It was a small necklace with a few charted stars. It was stolen, that much you could assume due to your financial standing, but you had kept it dear to your heart and chest for all these years.

Erik clung to the feeling of its magnetic pull and called it to him. His frozen blue eyes were manically wide as he kept out for any sign of you. While he worked on bringing you forward with his mutation, Charles dove back in. Back into the dark abyss of the water and your unconscious mind.

It was rare for the mind to be a silent place. Even when he was younger, accidentally invading someone's dreams was never a quiet sensation. Yet again, Charles had never been in the brain of an unconscious soul. He didn’t want the list of firsts to continue with the feeling of losing a life in his arms. Faster, deeper, he went at full speed, chasing that faint buzzing of your brain. As he got further below the surface, you got closer to it. The small and dainty necklace was unnaturally the levy to your entire being when Charles grabbed your faint body in his arms and swam to the surface with a hunger for air. With each stroke, he tried to enter your mind, begging you to wake.

Within a few moments, the two of you were back in the realm of oxygen as Erik met you. Charles quickly switched you into Erik’s arms as the three of you made it to the CIA boat. Erik had no reason to trust the man in front of him except for the fact that he saved your lives and that he may be like you. A mutant.

Even before your body was lain on the ground, Charles' urgent pleas for medical aid rang through the icy air. Erik's reddened hands were covered in crimson while his cheeks were covered in tears.

“Liebling, please. Please! Bitte!”

Erik hadn’t pleaded in 17 years. It was a foreign taste to his tongue, but he would make it go numb if it meant you no longer would be. You weren’t the one meant to die today. Erik was going to surprise you. Just one last ticket. This time, wherever you want to go. Forever. Start your life. It was supposed to be the beginning. Now why is it the end?

It was hard for Charles to focus when Erik's thoughts nearly drowned out the faint buzzing of your consciousness. All he wished to do was calm Erik's mind, but any second spent on him was one second closer to death for you. With a hand on his forehead and one brushing the hair away from your face, Charles clung onto that small sliver in your brain.

It was a fountain. Not too grand, but with the way the water sparkled and mirrored the surrounding gothic buildings, it made quite the spectacle. The weather was warm yet not hot, aided by the slight breeze. Floral scents wafted through the air, mixed in with the fountain and fresh bread from a bakery close by. Charles knew he was in a memory of yours with the way he felt the emotions you did: joy, contentment, and hopefulness. He knew it was a memory because above all those emotions, the one of aching presented itself painfully.

Fingers were intertwined with his. He finally moved his eyes away from the fountain and to the point of connection. Your hands didn’t clench to him. Instead, his did to you. Yours were grasping until the point your knuckles were white, with the hand of a woman. She looked youthful and beautiful, though there was a strain in her eyes. A sadness she entrapped, only visible in the reflection of the sparkling water fountain. You faced forward, but the look of wonder was infected with confusion at Charles’s additional presence. The fingers in his began to move, brushing with his. The woman to your right, who you assumed to be your mother, sighed lovingly and pulled your hand toward her as she tried to move. You were frozen.

“Es ist Zeit zu gehen, meine Liebe.”

Her voice was honey-sweet and a long-sought comfort. Charles noticed how your knees bent to move and your finger pointed to follow.

“Y/N, come back to us.”

Your fingers were now tracing the inside of his palms, as if trying to follow a map. Once again, you made no effort to move, but Charles did. He tugged your hand gently to gain your attention, though it didn’t work as your eyes still traced the glorious movements of the falling water in front of you.

“Y/N, wir müssen gehen, Erik wartet.”

Your name sounded so pretty with its proper pronunciation from the woman who had given it to you. The language was still foreign to Charles, but it was your mind, so you could make sense of it, and by association, so could he. A tug once more to your clasped hand.

“Erik is this way. He needs you.”

Your eyes flinched as Charles saw more life and confusion dance behind them. Turning your head, you saw your mother. Her patient smile, crinkled crow's feet, and jubilant hair you always loved to play with when doing dress-up with her. She was everything you longed for. A near step in her direction was too close for Charles.

He placed a hand upon your shoulder, and only then did he finally get the privilege of being witness to such a sight of beauty. You turned your head and knew instantly that this was not a product of your mind. It could never produce such a sight as Charles Xavier’s eyes. The longer the stare was held between you two, the more you felt it all. The gravity of the water, the birds slicing through the air, and a faint pain growing stronger in your stomach. You looked down at it and saw the red staining the milk-white dress you donned. Back to those deep orbs, who seemed to beg you to tug back. Slowly, you started to hear the pleas of a man echoing through the memory. It sounded eerily similar to Erik.

“Y/N.”

At the same time, your mother’s comforting and Charles’s intriguing voices called for you. Your hands were outstretched in front of the fountain as the sun began to set. You felt as the skin began to break apart as the cut deepened. Erik’s voice was as persistent as that never-ending flowing fountain. It was odd—not being able to feel another’s heartbeat, but Charles’s beating so rapidly. Your mother’s didn’t beat at all.

The young man knew just how tempted you were to let go of his grasp. The soliciting pathway out of the tribulation so filled with sorrow was hard to resist, more so for you. All it had been since this near-decade-old memory was a sea of despair. Charles swore to himself that if he was able to get you back, it would not follow that pattern. He was in your mind, but it seemed you were in his as well, as you looked at him as he took his vow. A silence between you two as more voices joined the now urgent shouts of Erik and the maelstrom of metal bending. Your fingers clutched your mother’s as she gave you a loving smile. It was returned with glossy eyes.

“Erik is waiting for me, mama.”

Your fingers finally fully intertwined with Charles’s as you let go of the woman you thought of every night. Once again, your eyes were caught in his orbit as everything became far sharper and more tangible. The sounds of the falling water droplets of the fountain were the last of the memory to dissipate when your eyes finally opened.

A ragged and painful breath was signal enough for Erik as he lifted his head from your shoulder in disbelief.

“Liebling!”

Charles stepped back to give you room but noticed your hands were intertwined in reality, just as they had been in your mind. You looked around and met at least half a dozen pairs of eyes staring down at you, and a pair of gloved hands trying to catarize your stomach in a fashion that made you queasy.

Erik grasped your face to look at it, but you pushed his hands away, along with the young man trying to heal you. If you could, you would have pushed everyone far enough away so you could do your own healing in seclusion, but you did not have such privilege. Eyes slipping closed, your hands rested on your stomach as you sped up your blood clotting process. The cut was diagonal, long, and deep, but with years of practice on much smaller cuts, you were able to manage a speedy procedure that fully stopped any external bleeding. Then came the painful part. You looked forward, past a certain brunette woman’s curious eyes, as you held back grunts of pain. Charles watched in amazement and intense worry as your skin was being pulled at an unusual pace toward the other ripped half, unnaturally closing securely. After one internal check of everything in order with your gift of gravity, you let out a shaky breath, dreading what was to come next.

“That was extraordinary.”

To your left, the man from your mind was there. He was real, yet still not out of your brain as you heard him. He gave you a charming and compassionate smile at your confusion.

“I am just like you. You are not alone.”

You were given no opportunity to respond, nevertheless comprehend what had all happened when Erik forcibly turned your sore body towards him.

“Was dachtest du, was du da macpymhst?!” The words didn’t need to be elaborated to any of the operatives, which many could already translate, to know they were not ones that you were eager to answer. Their expectations coming true as you lifted yourself up, with generous aid by the man you for some reason wanted to call Charles. Erik’s eyes were wide and frantic as he examined you and your shivering form. He had nothing to give you of warmth, but Charles did. Wordlessly, he offered you his coat, and yet another staring match; you took it with a shy smile. As if there was a conversation between the two of you that the rest were not privy to. He suggested that all of you go inside and shelter away from the cold, an offer you gladly took as it took you away from Erik. Though, of course, not for long.

“Y/N!”

You didn’t know where you were going, you simply walked the halls and back towards your brother. “I would simply like to rest, Erik, not now.” Looking past Erik’s burning stare, you addressed the young man who you just now noticed was as drenched as you and Erik. “Do you have anywhere we can rest? We will be gone by dawn, I swear.”

You had no idea how you would do that and where you would go from here, but that was an issue for tomorrow. If you could, you would have demanded to be taken to shore and out of the way of whoever these people were, but you were simply too exhausted. The young man stepped forward, his accent as smooth and refined as silk.

“Actually, we would prefer you to be here by sunlight. We would like you to stay, join us. You two are not the only ones. You are not alone.”

You finally looked at Erik, albeit with apprehension, and he did the same as he tried to understand what the still unintroduced man was saying. It seemed to hit him then (or did he peer into your minds? Was that his ability?).

“Ah, I am so sorry, I fear I have been too distracted to properly introduce myself. Charles Xavier.”

He first held out his hand for you, that smile ever-present. You took it cautiously but he returned with understanding. He turned to Erik, who, to your surprise, took it. An enthusiasm radiated in the air surrounding Charles.

“This is Agent Moira MacTaggert and fellow CIA agents—”

“The CIA?”

A panic rang through your voice. You were raised to trust no one, nevertheless the government. Any kind. You remembered the last time you got caught up. You were beginning to question whether or not Charles was a telepath or empath, as he knew exactly what to ease your worries, somewhat.

“The mutant division. We are after Shaw just as you are. Now you just don’t have to be on your own.”

Moira nodded from behind him in confirmation while Charles was focused on Erik, seemingly knowing he was the decision-maker between the two of you. Clearly, there was a conversation between the two in the sphere of the mind. Yet, whatever Charles had said must have been meticulously crafted as Erik did something against his very nature. He took Charles’s hand and agreed to join along with whatever this was. Then it was his turn to brush past you and deeper into the boat.

Considering you were all in a metal boat that he could easily crush like a tin can, it was no surprise a short man with glasses and a black suit followed along with the pretty Moira. That just left you and Charles.

“I apologize for the intrusion, though that was a beautiful memory. I can see why you thought of it.”

His words were soft and genuine. You knew mutants were oddities, but Charles seemed the oddest of them all. A rarity within rarities.

“You saved my life.” The words were blunt but didn’t offend Charles in the slightest.

“I would say you saved your own life. You made the choice.”

Charles took your processing time to take you in. Your hair was drenched and knotted yet somehow looked perfectly styled for your prettily reddened cheeks and nose and sparkling eyes. His bones were freezing but, to him, it was worth it. He would be willing to suffer the cold into the morning if he could ensure you would be there. Just a glimpse into your mind, and Charles wanted to indulge more. This was a sensation he had never felt before. His own cheeks grew red, not out of bitter wind but out of embracing heat as he thought of how Raven would tease him mercilessly if she saw him now.

Clearing his throat, he gestured for you to follow him.

“You can rest in this room tonight. I will tell Moira to bring you a change of clothes to ensure you don’t get a case of hypothermia. Rest as much as you need, truly.”

You looked inward at the small but functional room. You turned back and noticed the intense gaze of those crystal eyes.

“I don’t know what to say.”

If only you had a dollar for every time he had flashed that ever-present smirk at you.

“A ‘goodnight’ should suffice quite nicely.”

A slight smile began to grow on your lips. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。..✭・.✫・゜・。.

translations:

Liebling - darling

Bitte - Please

Es ist Zeit zu gehen, meine Liebe - It's time to go, my love

wir müssen gehen, Erik wartet- we have to go, Erik is waiting

Was dachtest du, was du da macpymhst?! - What did you think you were doing?!

[chaoticrockmusic]

Girls be like "I can fix him, I can fix him!" Like girlie NO. I WANT A BROKEN GUY SO WE CAN BE BROKEN TOGETHER. If you ain't gonna clean the trash or pick it up might aswell just add more to the pile 🤷

[kat-thepoet]

Invisible string

CHAPTER ONE

A/N: I did a poll even though I was going to write it lmao but here you go! This is going to be a long series so don't expect it to be a couple one shots.

Description: Flora Quinnell is a 23 year old who has been living in an orphanage with nuns. She's a mutant who has invisibility, telekinesis, and empathy abilities. She gets recruited by Charles Xavier to be a teacher at his school. Everything is all well until she meets Erik, who makes her life there a living hell.

Word count: 4605

I awoke to the warm embrace of sunlight pouring in through the open window, accompanied by a gentle morning breeze caressing my skin. The weather in July was unexpectedly cool. I quickly checked the clock on the wall-9 a.m. It was Sunday, which meant most of the kids were in Bible study, meaning this morning would be peaceful.

I've lived at this orphanage my entire life. Left here as a newborn, the nuns took me in. For 23 years, this has been my home, and I'm grateful for the life I've had. I can't imagine anyone caring for me better than my godmother, Nun Melinda. She raised me as if I were her own child. I don't feel anger or bitterness toward whoever left me here. In time, I stopped thinking about my parents, certain they had their reasons. After all, they left me in a place where I've been cared for and loved in a world that's not always kind to people like me.

I reached under my bed and pulled out the willow basket I was left in. Its light brown weaving remained intact, and inside, the small yellow blanket lay neatly folded. A faint scent still lingered-of a newborn. When I was younger, I would clutch it at night, longing for the parents I'd never know. Over time, I realized perhaps it was for the best, and I slowly moved on.

As I looked through my closet, I decided to wear a brown sweater with a skirt that fell just above the knee. I combed my hair, washed my face at the small sink in the corner of my room, and brushed my teeth. Afterward, I grabbed the book sitting on my nightstand and walked downstairs to the back porch.

As I sat in my favorite chair, I watched the birds chirp in the beautiful morning light. The flowers swayed gently in the breeze, and the smell of coffee filled the air, making my stomach grumble.

I should eat, I thought. But before I could get up, Nun Melinda walked outside, holding a tray with a coffee mug and cookies.

"Good morning, Nun Melinda," I smiled.

"Good morning, dear. I brought you some coffee. Drink up while it's still warm," she said, setting the tray down on the patio table.

"Thank you, Nun Melinda. You didn't have to."

"Nonsense, I don't mind," she replied, her voice soft. "There's something I need to mention. I received a call-some people are coming to talk to you. They'll be here in a few minutes."

"Do you know what they want?" I asked, feeling the soothing liquid warm my throat.

"Something about a teaching position. I didn't get many details."

"Teaching position? I wonder what that's about," I said, nibbling on one of the cookies.

"Come to the lounge once you're finished," she said, giving me a peck on the cheek.

With that, she left, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

A teaching job? Why me, of all people? I asked myself, slowly sipping my coffee. Once I finished, I walked to the living room. There, Nun Melinda sat with two visitors-a bald man in a wheelchair and a blonde woman with a pale complexion. As I stepped closer, they all turned to look at me.

Nun Melinda was the first to speak. "Flora, this is Professor Charles Xavier, and this is Raven."

They stood, well one of them did and I shook their hands.

"It's nice to meet you," I said, studying the strangers in front of me.

"It's nice to meet you too," they both said in sync.

"Would you like tea or coffee?" Nun Melinda offered.

"None, thank you," Charles replied. "We're fine."

"I'll leave you three to talk then," she said, disappearing from the room.

I sat awkwardly, glancing between the two strangers. "So... why are you here?" I asked.

Charles was the first to speak. "We're looking for someone to teach at my school, Flora. Someone like you."

"Like me?" I asked, confused. "Why me? I don't have any experience or even a degree."

Raven spoke up. "It's hard to find teachers willing to work at a school for mutants, especially ones who are mutants themselves."

I froze. "How do you know-?"

Before I could finish, Charles touched two fingers to his temple, and suddenly, they both disappeared.

I jumped up. "Professor? Raven?"

They reappeared just as quickly, making me flinch.

"I'm just like you," Charles said calmly.

I looked at Raven, intrigued. "Are you a mutant too?"

She didn't answer verbally. Instead, her skin shifted into blue scales, revealing her true form.

Charles nodded. "Now, show us what you can do."

I hesitated but took a breath, focusing on the shift in my body. Within seconds, I turned invisible. I waited a couple seconds for their reaction and I quickly returned visible again, feeling a little self-conscious under their watchful eyes.

"Extraordinary," Charles said, clearly impressed. "Is that all you can do?"

I shook my head. "I can also create force fields, I have telekinesis-which I'm still working on-and then empathy."

"Empathy?" Raven asked.

"Yes. I can control and sense emotions with a touch. It came in handy when I was caught doing something I wasn't supposed to," I said with a small laugh.

They both looked at me with interest. After a moment, Charles spoke again.

"When did you discover your powers?"

"When I was little, I would accidentally turn invisible when I was distressed or scared. The nuns here knew I was different from the other kids, but they didn't mind. They just kept it a secret because people like me-mutants-aren't exactly deemed normal. Later, in my teenage years, I met a boy named Lucas who worked at a nearby farm. He was a mutant too, so we practiced our powers in secret. Eventually, I discovered I could control my invisibility and that I could move things with my mind."

Raven and Charles exchanged a glance before Charles spoke again. "We need someone like you at our school. There are children who need your guidance."

I hesitated, feeling the weight of his words.

"But I've lived here my whole life. This is all I've ever known," I said, fidgeting with my lip.

"There are kids who need you and have no one. Orphans, just like you," Raven said as Charles nodded in agreement.

"You already have the most important qualities," Charles continued. "Compassion, understanding, and a unique perspective. The rest, we can help with."

Raven added, "You'll have support. And more importantly, you'll grow alongside the students."

Their words lingered in my mind. Maybe it was time for a change. I had lived here my whole life, and perhaps this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I looked at them, making up my mind.

Fuck it

I took a deep breath. "Okay," I said. "I'll give it a try."

I quickly went upstairs, grabbed a bag, and began packing my clothes and important belongings. After I was done, I looked around my room one last time feeling a little homesick already. 

let's do this. I quickly closed the door and walked down stairs. 

Nun Melinda was once again standing with Charles and Raven but at the front door. As I approached, she turned around and wrapped me in a warm hug. 

I hugged her back tightly, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me. "Take care of yourself, my dear," she whispered. "You're going to do great things."

"Thank you, Nun Melinda," I replied, my voice slightly trembling. "I'll miss you. I'll miss all of you."

She pulled back and gave me a reassuring smile. " We'll all miss you too, but this is your time to be independent and grow." 

With one last look around the place that had been my home for so long, I nodded to Charles and Raven, ready to step into the unknown.

The ride to the school wasn't too long, but my mind was spinning the entire time. As Raven drove, all I could think about was the life I had left behind and the one waiting for me. This was my chance-a new chapter outside the orphanage. A chance to build the life I'd always dreamed of.

As we turned onto the driveway leading to the school, I was struck by the beauty of the place. Tall trees bordered the road, their leaves lush and green, casting gentle shadows over the landscape. The air smelled fresh, and the surroundings felt alive with possibility.

When we approached the school, I noticed children scattered across the grounds. Some sat under trees, engrossed in books, while others played basketball or ran around, their laughter filling the air. The school was larger than I had imagined-much bigger. The sheer size of the building made me feel small for a moment.

Stepping out of the car, I finally got a full view of the place. The main building was impressive, with grand, arched windows and a stately presence. Vines climbed up its stone walls, curling around the structure in a way that made it look both ancient and alive, like the building was growing from the earth itself. It was beautiful-wild and majestic, just like nature.

Raven helped Charles out of the car and into his wheelchair while I stood there, still in awe of the campus. The possibilities of this new life swirled in my mind as I tried to imagine myself here, surrounded by people like me. I grabbed my bag and joined them, walking beside Charles and Raven toward the entrance.

"What do you think?" Charles asked, his voice calm yet curious.

I glanced around at the sprawling grounds, the towering trees, the vibrant life everywhere.

"It's... amazing," I replied, my voice tinged with wonder. "I didn't think the place would look this nice and feel so full of love."

Charles chuckled as we approached the grand entrance. "It's more than just a school, Flora. It's a home for many who've felt out of place in the world. You'll find that here, I promise."

I nodded, taking in his words. The weight of my decision began to settle in, and I wondered if I truly belonged in a place like this. But something about the atmosphere, the serenity mixed with the underlying sense of purpose, gave me hope.

As we entered through the large wooden doors, the inside was just as grand as the outside. The hallways stretched ahead, lined with paintings and intricate woodwork. Students bustled past, some nodding in acknowledgment as we walked by. The air hummed with energy, yet it felt strangely peaceful.

Raven glanced at me. "We'll show you to your room, and later, you'll meet some of the staff. They're all really nice."

"I hope so," I said, glancing at the students. "I'm a bit overwhelmed."

Charles chuckled softly. "Give it time. You'll come to see this as your new home."

As we turned a corner, I caught sight of a window overlooking a large garden, brimming with colorful flowers and more trees. In the distance, I could see animals-a few birds, some deer grazing near the woods. A sense of comfort washed over me. Maybe this place could be a home after all.

"I'll let Raven take over. I have some important matters to attend to. I'll see you after lunch," Charles said as he slowly turned around, heading down a hallway.

"Thank you!" I called after him.

Raven led me up a winding staircase to the second floor. We reached a door at the end of the hall, and Raven pushed it open. Inside was a cozy, modest room with a large window overlooking the grounds.

"This will be your space," Raven said with a smile. "Unpack, settle in, and I'll come back for you in a little while."

I set my bag down, glancing around the room. It was simple, but the view outside the window, with the sprawling green and the animals in the distance, made it feel perfect. This was my start-my new beginning.

"Thank you," I said, turning back to her.

"You'll do great things here, Flora," Raven said, walking towards the door. "I'll see you soon."

With that, she left, and I was alone with my thoughts and new surroundings. I took a deep breath, stepping toward the window. The campus stretched out before me, full of life, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a sense of belonging.

I quickly unpacked, placing my belongings neatly in the spacious closet. The room was at least twice the size of the one at the orphanage. The bed, which looked enormous compared to what I'd been used to, had a plush purple comforter that looked incredibly inviting. I pressed my hand against it, feeling the softness. There was an empty desk in one corner, and a small TV sat on a stand near the window-a little reminder of normalcy in such an extraordinary place.

I opened the window, letting the fresh air in. The breeze was gentle but steady, causing the curtains to flutter softly from side to side. I leaned against the window frame, looking out at the vibrant green of the campus below, letting my thoughts drift. There was so much to process-so much unknown ahead of me-but for the first time in a long while, I felt something close to hope.

After a few minutes of quiet reflection, a knock on the door interrupted the calm. My heart quickened as I turned toward it. I wasn't expecting anyone so soon, and a wave of nervousness crept in.

I stood up, smoothing out the wrinkles in my clothes, and walked over to answer it.

It was Raven, standing in the doorway with a friendly smile. "Are you ready for your tour?"

I gave her a small smile, nodding as the nervousness settled again in my stomach. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Great," she said, stepping aside to let me join her. "There's a lot to see, but I'll give you the highlights today so you don't feel too overwhelmed."

As we started down the hallway, Raven gestured toward the rooms around us. "So, in this hall, all the staff have their quarters. Erik's room is next to yours, and Storm's is on the other side. You'll meet them both later at dinner."

I nodded, mentally filing away the names. Erik and Storm. I wondered what they were like. I hoped they were nice.

"They're great," Raven continued, as if reading my thoughts. "Erik can be intense sometimes, but as long as you don't get on his bad side, you'll be fine. And Storm... well, you'll see. She's got a presence that speaks for itself."

I couldn't help but smile at that. "I'm looking forward to meeting them."

"Then there's Jean, who rooms with Scott. They're both really nice," Raven added as we walked further down the hallway. "They're engaged, so you'll probably see them together most of the time."

"Engaged? That's nice," I replied, picturing the couple in my head. I was curious about what they were like, but something told me no one here was ordinary.

"And then there's my room," she continued, gesturing toward a door a few paces away. "If you ever need anything, feel free to knock."

I gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks. I appreciate that."

"Charles sleeps on the other side of the school," Raven said with a slight chuckle. "His quarters are more private, but you'll see him plenty. He likes to keep a close eye on things around here."

I nodded, taking it all in. The people here seemed close, like a family of sorts, and though I felt a little out of place, I couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging growing.

"And then Hank's room is at the end of the hallway," Raven added with a soft smile. "He's my boyfriend, by the way."

I raised my eyebrows, intrigued. "Boyfriend, huh? How long have you two been together, if you don't mind me asking?"

Raven chuckled. "We've been dating for a couple of months now. It took me a while to get through to him, but now we're happy. You'll see him around, always working on something. But don't let his shyness fool you-he can get pretty loud."

I smiled at the warmth in her voice when she talked about him. "I'm looking forward to meeting him."

Raven led us further down the hallway, the tour giving me a sense of how close-knit this group really was. It made me feel both excited and a little anxious about fitting in.

As we walked through the school, Raven pointed out the important places since the campus was so vast-where the kids' rooms were, the classrooms (which she mentioned Charles would show me in more detail after lunch), and finally, the training area.

When we reached the basement, she opened the heavy doors, revealing an enormous room filled with high-tech equipment. In the center, two people were engaged in a heated battle with a giant robot, dodging its strikes with precision and power.

"Ah, Scott and Storm are here," Raven said casually as she began walking toward them.

I followed, wide-eyed, watching the intense scene unfold. Scott, wearing red-tinted glasses, was firing controlled beams of energy at the robot, while Storm moved gracefully, summoning wind and lightning to disorient her opponent. It was both mesmerizing and a little intimidating.

"They're training," Raven explained with a grin. "This is one of the ways we keep our skills sharp-and it looks pretty cool, right?"

I nodded, unable to take my eyes off the battle. "Yeah... this is incredible."

"All the teachers train here," she added casually.

I blinked. "Wait... all teachers? As in, I will too?"

Raven paused, then stepped back with a sheepish smile. "Oh, I guess the cat's out of the bag. Charles was supposed to tell you."

"Tell me what?" I asked, a sense of unease creeping in.

"Well, all staff members are required to train at least twice a week. And... well, all of the X-Men are teachers here. That just leaves you."

I stared at her, processing the words. "Wait, you guys want me to be an X-Men? I thought I was here for a teaching job."

Raven chuckled softly. "You are. But part of teaching here is also protecting the students. We're more than just a school, Flora. Charles believes you have potential-not just to teach, but to help keep everyone safe."

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. "I've never fought anything in my life, let alone... robots or whatever that thing is."

Raven placed a hand on my shoulder, her expression reassuring. "We'll train you. You're not expected to jump into battle tomorrow. But trust me, you'll catch on. You have potential."

Before I could respond, Scott and Storm walked over, leaving the defeated robot lying motionless on the ground.

Scott, tall and serious-looking, gave me a nod. "You must be the new recruit. Welcome."

Storm smiled warmly, her presence commanding yet comforting. "It's nice to meet you, Flora. I hope you're liking the place so far."

I glanced between them, still trying to process everything. "Thanks... I just didn't realize this job came with combat training."

Scott smirked. "It's part of the package deal. But don't worry, we all started somewhere. You'll have plenty of time to get used to it."

Storm nodded in agreement. "And you won't be alone. We've got each other's backs here."

Raven chimed in. "You'll be fine, Flora. We'll make sure of it."

Their words were comforting, but I couldn't shake the nervousness bubbling inside. I'd come here to teach, but now I was stepping into a whole new world-one that involved more than just lessons in a classroom.

Lunch finally rolled around, and as I finished eating, Raven reminded me to see Charles in his office afterward. The only problem was, I couldn't exactly remember where it was. After the tour, Raven had given me a brochure to help me navigate if I got lost. This school was massive, and I wondered how anyone managed to navigate it without getting turned around.

As I wandered the hallways, the sounds of kids laughing and running around filled the space, reminding me of the orphanage. A pang of homesickness hit me, but I quickly shook it off. I was glad to be here, starting this new chapter of my life. 

The noise of the children began to fade as I moved further into the quieter parts of the building. I stopped at the end of a hallway, looking down at the small brochure in my hands. I was turning a corner when I bumped into someone, accidentally spilling his coffee all over his gray shirt.

"I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, eyes widening as I saw the stain spreading across his chest.

The man, tall and broad-shouldered, glared down at me, his face hard as stone. His dark red hair was slicked back, and his sharp gaze sent a shiver down my spine. He glanced at his coffee-stained shirt and then back at me, clearly unimpressed.

"Watch where you're going," he muttered, brushing at the stain, though it only spread further.

"I didn't mean to... I'm just trying to find the Professor's office," I stammered, fidgeting with the hem of my skirt.

"Figures," he said, his voice low and clipped. "You're the new girl."

"I am," I replied, feeling my face flush under his intense stare.

His brow furrowed, as though the very idea of me being here annoyed him. "You're the one they're bringing in to teach? You don't exactly look prepared for it."

I bristled at his tone, my nerves tingling with irritation. "I wasn't aware there was a dress code for spilling coffee," I snapped, sarcasm slipping out before I could stop myself.

His eyes narrowed. "You won't last long here if you think it's all sarcasm and jokes."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over me. "I don't know who you are, but I didn't come here to get lectured."

He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression unchanging. "I'm Erik Lehnsherr. And you'd do well to stay out of my way."

I stared at him, recognition finally dawning. Erik. The one Raven had warned me about-the intense one. Great. Of all the people to run into, it had to be him.

"Noted," I replied coolly, stepping around him, but not before muttering under my breath, "You might want to work on your people skills, though."

I didn't wait for his reaction as I quickly walked away, my heart pounding in my chest. My face was still warm with embarrassment and frustration. Of all the first impressions I could've made, spilling coffee on the grumpiest guy in the building wasn't exactly what I had in mind.

I hurried down the hall, trying to push the encounter with Erik out of my mind. My heart was still racing, and I couldn't help but feel both embarrassed and irritated. Who did he think he was? But I had bigger concerns-like figuring out where in the world the Professor's office was.

After wandering what felt like endlessly through the halls, I was about ready to give up and ask someone for directions when I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. A small, polished brass plaque on the wall next to a large wooden door:

Professor Charles Xavier, Headmaster

I let out a sigh of relief. "Finally," I muttered, feeling a little silly for missing it before.

I raised my hand to knock, but before I could, Charles's calm voice echoed in my mind, as clear as if he were standing right next to me.

Come in, Flora.

I blinked, reminded of his telepathic abilities, and stepped into the office. The room was spacious yet cozy, filled with bookshelves that lined the walls and a large desk near the window. Sunlight poured in, casting a golden glow over everything.

Charles sat behind his desk, a kind smile on his face. "I trust you're settling in well?" he asked.

I hesitated for a moment, thinking about Erik and our less-than-ideal first meeting. "Well, I'm still getting used to the place... It's much bigger than I expected."

Charles chuckled softly. "It can be overwhelming at first. But in time, it will feel like home."

I nodded, though my mind was still racing with thoughts about what had just happened. Charles seemed to sense my unease.

"Ah," he said knowingly, leaning forward slightly. "You've met Erik."

I felt my cheeks flush again. "Yes, but... it didn't go very well."

Charles smiled gently. "Don't take it personally. Erik's not one to easily warm up to new people, especially those he doesn't know yet. But give it time-he can be difficult, but once you earn his trust, you'll see there's more to him than his sharp exterior."

I sighed, feeling slightly better. "I hope you're right."

"I am," he said confidently, then motioned to the chair across from his desk. "Please, sit. We have much to discuss about your role here."

I sat down, still feeling a bit out of my element but more at ease as I faced Charles across his large desk. His calm demeanor made it easier to breathe through the nerves that lingered in the back of my mind.

"As you know," Charles began, "our school is unique. We're not just a place for education; we're a sanctuary for those who feel they don't belong in the outside world. The students here, like you, have abilities that set them apart. It's our job to help them understand those abilities and how to use them wisely."

I nodded, listening closely. Despite the calm surroundings, the weight of the responsibility was starting to settle on my shoulders.

"I believe you can offer something very special here, Flora," he continued. "You have extraordinary gifts that can be used out in the field."

I looked at him, remembering what Raven told me before. "You mean, like becoming an X-Man?"

"Indeed. You have potential, and I know you can become one of the best," he said as he rolled toward me.

"I still feel like I'm not qualified for this," I admitted, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of my sweater. "I've never taught anyone before, or even fought anyone. I don't know how I'd handle real students, especially ones with powers."

Charles's kind smile didn't waver. "You'll find that teaching here is as much about connecting with the students as it is about formal lessons. You'll learn as you go. And you'll have the support of the other teachers, including myself. As for becoming an X-Men, that's the easiest part. We will train you."

I glanced out the window for a moment, watching a group of students playing outside, their laughter drifting through the open air. Despite my nerves, something about this place already felt like it was calling to me, as if I was meant to be here. But it was hard to imagine myself fitting in, especially with teachers like Erik, who clearly thought otherwise.

Charles must have picked up on my thoughts, because his voice softened, drawing my attention back to him. "Flora, you belong here. And I believe that in time, you'll come to see it too."

I met his gaze and nodded. "I'll try my best, Professor."

"That's all I ask," he replied, his tone warm and reassuring. "Now, why don't you take the rest of the afternoon to explore the grounds? Get to know the place and the students."

I stood, feeling both nervous and determined. "Thank you, Professor."

As I turned to leave, his voice echoed in my mind again. And Flora, he said gently, don't let Erik's attitude deter you. There's more to him than meets the eye.

I smiled faintly, pausing at the door. "I'll try to keep that in mind."

With that, I stepped out of the office and into the hallway, the heavy wooden door closing softly behind me. The air in the corridor was still, the sounds of students muffled in the distance. I stood there for a moment, letting it all sink in-the enormity of this place, the role I was stepping into, and the people I would meet.

And then there was Erik.

I took a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. Maybe Charles was right. Maybe there was more to Erik than the cold, irritated exterior I'd seen. But I wasn't about to let his attitude intimidate me. I had a job to do here, and if Erik was part of it, I'd just have to figure out how to deal with him.

Chapter: TWO

[chloe-skywalker]

Leaving - Pyro / John Allerdyce

John/Pyro x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 212

Summary: Pyro telling Y/n that he loves her before leaving to join the brotherhood.

Authors Note: Haven’t wrote X-MEN in awhile

Masterlist

X-MEN Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“What are you doing?” Y/n asked as she walks into their shared room seeing him packing his duffle.

“Y/n-” John turned around not knowing what to say.

“You're leaving.” Y/n states when he doesn’t say anything, eyes not leaving his packed duffle.

“I’m sorry. But I have to go. I don’t belong here.” He tells her with tears welling up in his eyes.

“You're going to join Magento and his brotherhood, aren’t you?” Y/n looked at him with tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Yes.” John nodded.

“I’ll miss you.” Y/n’s voice broke as more tears rolled down her cheeks.

John rushed over to her and cupped her cheeks brushing her tears away with his thumbs. “I’ll miss you too. More than anything. But-”

“You can’t stay. I get it.” Y/n nodded as they embraced each other into a tight hug.

“We’ll see eachother again.” John promised as they parted from their hug.

“I hope so.” Y/n gave him a sad but hopeful smile.

“We will. I love you.” John placed one last kiss for now on her forehead before he grabbed his bag and left. Hoping when everything was over they’d see each other again. He’d protect her, even if they are on opposite sides.

Taglist: @padawancat97 @starkleila

[in1-nutshell]

hey remeber that one au where magento is Fearless's dad

nutshell summary on the custody battle

In a Nutshell...

For some reason Magneto finds out about Fearless location and wants to do better.

Too bad Fearless is already Megatron's kid.

There may have been a chance for kinapping which would have been BAD id Fearless's life wasn't in danger if a full on battle happened.

Megatron has Fearless in one servo and glaring at Magneto.

The ship is right behind him when Magneto claims to be Fearless's bio dad and wants them to come to Earth.

There are debates between the two once they recognize each other as sophisticated in the word of tongue.

Fearless meanwhile is having an existential crisis realizing who their bio dad was and slightly miffed that they didn't get powers.

[supercap2319]

Y/N huffed and had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes as he was getting a lecture on the dangers of humans by the man who was his biological father, but not his real father as far as Y/N was concerned.

"Your love for humans is dangerous, Y/N. That makes you vulnerable." Erik said. Why did his children have to be so stubborn, especially his youngest? Their love for humanity would get them killed one day.

"No, that makes me sane." Y/N shrugged.

Erik was getting pissed off as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, you've got to stop fighting this, Y/N. Gotta stop fighting yourself. Whether you like it or not, you are my son, which makes you a mutant, and it's about damn time you started acting like it!"

Y/N looks at him, eyes flashing red. "The hell it is. Look, for your information, my father–my real father–the one who raised me, loved me, made me proud to be his son and took care of me till the day he died was a VHS salesman, not a human hating egotistical mutant maniac, so how dare you show up here and act like you're my dad? 'Cause I have news for you–you're not." Upset, Y/N turns around and is about to walk away, but he looks at him and points. "You stay away from me. And you stay from Peter. And you better stay away from Ben. Don't make me hurt you." Then he was gone.

Erik sighed as he closed his eyes in regret.

[yandere-wishes]

⭒ㅤׂ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ʟɪꜰᴇㅤׂ ⭒

⭒⌒★ Yandere! X-Men x Reader ★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝓔𝔁𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ♡ ｡ ゜

˚୨♡୧˚Magneto - Erik Lehnsherr | مگنیتو - اریک لنشر 

Techno graces your body in lieu of veins. Wires coiling like arteries should. You use it to mimic him, embody him, be him. His starry-eyed parody. Erik needs you to be more, to be everything he -and everybody else- could never be. You are synthetic and sacred in every way, you are the future he so desperately craves. 

He can't help seeing them when he looks at you. The reverend wraiths of tortured adoration speak to him through your eyes. He sees a bit of everyone inside you, Charles, Raven, Rogue... their faces flashing like holy ghosts. You have too many constellations inside of you, all on the verge of erupting. It keeps him up at night, especially when you're curled up on your side of the bed, asleep and oblivious. 

"You will save us, little one, you will be the savior we have longed for"

He feels the centuries rolling through him, desperately lost, trying to find his way back to a home he never even knew. Maybe that's why he kneels, brushing his lips across your knuckles tracing each vein in hopes that'll lead him back to a place he's only ever seen in his dreams. I'll stay lost, I'll wait for you to find me. He knows you will, you'll do anything for him. He's sure of it. 

Genosha asks for a queen, demands it really. It's funny how these things work. Funny how those who rule the world are so intent on destroying it. Kingdoms aren't built in a day yet they can so easily be toppled in one. In turn, Magento asks you. Who else? It's his one cardinal tenet, you are the savior he could never be. The one his people, your people, need. Erik rolls your name between his lips, relishing as the syllables melt on his tongue. There's a magnetic pull to 'queen' it tastes like a hallowed prayer. "My queen" he whispers in your ear, his tongue sending sparks up the cartilage shell. Magneto pins you to his lap, keeping you tethered to his strong body. His fingers run lines up your hips indulging in your presence. You don't squirm although he suspects you want to. his lips lower, kissing your jugular and savoring the ungainly moan that slips past your pretty lips. "M-Magneto" He's only now realizing you've never called him by his birthname, maybe cause in some way you find it treacherous that he should bear such a human thing. He may see you as salvation, yet you've always gazed at him with the pietistic eyes of a zealous worshipper. 

"Use your power, feel the magnetic pull flowing through you."

"You're overcomplicating it again, master, I just need to command that which I need lifted."

You've always been a rebellious student. The sardonic irony isn't lost on him, Magneto finds it fitting that he should master such an intricate pupil.

He wonders if you can forgive him for the bodies he's scattered in your name. From this far up he doubts you notice the broken bodies littering the concrete. He'll do it all again, anything to keep your distractions at bay. His kind needs a leader, not another sanctimonious hero.

You will be their savior.

You will be his queen.

♠️🂱♠️Gambit - Remy Lebeau | گمبیت - رمی لیبو

Remy wonders if the king ever longs to be stacked with the queen. Holding his breath every time the cards are shuffled. Praying that this time, this time for sure, he'll be next to her. Gambit's holding his breath too. There's a lively lilt when you giggle, he wonders if you truly grasp how much he means every word. "Mon Cheri, you know you're the only one for me." It sounds so childish, so jejune and Gambit knows he's too old for school-boy crushes. But he can't help it, he's desperate too, just another aspirant king vying for the attention of his red queen. 

You once told him the blacks of his eyes remind you of a starry night sky back home. He thinks about that too much. About the sting of your hand on his shoulder and how good it felt sitting crooked in his bones. So that's why an ace surpasses the king. There is only, one who holds power. Maybe it's never been about the queen or the king or the royal house. It's been the Ace all along. Remy only has one heart, he knows he only has one ace too. There was an ace of hearts on your nightstand this morning, you don't recall how it got there. 

Remy's kisses are too explosive, they hold all the weight of a dying star. Yet the force never ceases, it feeds off the detonations only growing stronger, you think you'll be consumed in this kinetic nova he calls love. 

-`X´- Cyclops - Scott Summers | سیکلوپ - سکات سامرز

There's a shutter of loneliness crawling up his spine. He knows you feel it too. Scott bends and breaks under its crushing weight. You've always been there, tangible, solid. You're the living metaphor for a rock in a raging river. He just can't find the right words yet. You can't see his eyes, you can't withstand his power. But you can be there holding his hand through it all. 

'Is this selfishness'? Scott wonders and he kisses you under a dying moon. He's never had anything to call his own, nothing that stayed for long anyway. He's snuffed out his desires his whole life. His place is with the X-men, playing the no-choice hero of a thankless story. But you, you're still here, you never left. Even now you stand still as his lips taint yours. He feels your fear, undue thing that it is. But he can't let you go not when everything is always marred in endless red monochrome and melancholy. Not when the only blessing the universe had ever given him comes in the shape of you. He's so tired of only ever knowing the life of a perfect toy soldier. 'Stay' he begs you between each kiss, each touch. Please just stay. Ease his pain.

 

☽✭☾ Wolverine - Logan Howlett | ولورین - لوگان هاولت

He's been alive longer than he cares to count. Running from one hell to another. He remembers your ghost, essence weaving between places too blurred to be graced with a name. But he remembers you, he swears he does. It's just that time is so fickle and so few can withstand its crushing tides. 

"How have you been, Logan?" 

"I..ah... fine, just fine." 

When he looks at you he can't believe the changes. There's no trace of the rosy cheecked little girl who used to chase demons in the snowbanks. Playing hide and seek with every stray in the neighborhood. That's good, he thinks, he likes this refined dignitary better, somehow it brings out your eyes. There's a feral gaze when he looks at you, he thought he was over that. He feels the pulsing of his heart reverberate through his claws. It brings back something less than memories, something nostalgic, yet all so distant it may as well have been the sent of his childhood home. It's not right he thinks, as his claws trace your curves trying to feel something he knows is lost. You quiver, trying to make yourself smaller and he knows, he knows he shouldn't do this. But there are just so many pieces missing and he's never tried to look for any of them. Maybe just this once he can delude himself into remembering. 

˚ʚ★ɞ˚ Nightcrawler - Kurt Wagner | شب خزنده - کورت واگنر

Not too long ago this used to be fine. He's always been better within shadows, letting the soft dark weave around his body. Obscurity has always felt like a second home, a haven in everything but consistency. You speak in italics, talking and talking without understanding what he shoulders. If he didn't deem it blasphemy, Kurt would gladly dub himself Eros.

You would be Psyche. Oblivious, sweet Psyche.

Kurt longs to kiss your cheek, he knows it'll only starve him for more. He wonders how soft your hands will feel. If you'll You cradle his face nails tracing the sharp point of his ears, his fangs, the jagged scar he got from dreaming of you in the danger room. Will you grace him with a kiss? Something to relinquish the anguish stirring within. This should be fine, you're talking to him, laughing with him as he remains hidden within the dark. And yet how can he see this as anything less than retribution? You're so close, just a breath away. If only he could reach out and...

۵𓋹۵ Apocalypse - En Sabah Nur | آپآکلپژ- ان صباح نور

Your heartbeat sounds all too familiar. He used to hear it a thousandfold walking down the Bazaar's street. It's dead now, the noise, the rapture, the music. He wonders what went right for your heart to beat to such a lost tune?  He remembers once hearing that pain travels through families until it lands on the right generation. He's glad fate picked you. He's glad you share the same ancient burdens.

He puts the stars in the sky.

You've been warned against worshipping false idols so blindly.

Yet how can one not fall at his feet?

He who makes the earth tremble and mighty cower. 

He who seems to know everything you do not. 

Your fingers thread through his hair. It's too black, like staring at a moonless sky in December. You wonder if the eternal ebony is what gives Apocolypse his cynical edge. He laughs at the comment as he melts into your familiar touch."Thank you" he mutters. His pride laces every word twisting them into something metaphysical. Nur wonders if you catch the true sentiment behind the words. If the sand and stars make it through. 

You're too archaic for this time Nur thinks as he watches you run across the fields. The other mutants are there, persistent in the games you all play. In his time he'd have already declared you his wife. Do you know the ancient ceremonies? Would you have gifted him gold or flesh? The yearning builds in his throat. Maybe he should have stayed dead. 

Apocolypse lingers the days away in your room, plotting, scheming. You keep him hidden like a blood secret. He's the only one who seems to understand where your power comes from, where you come from. " I could win against you...someday" Your fingers glow igniting a forgotten glow, Nur can't help but laugh as he traces the curve of your spine. " I don't doubt you could, beloved." His blue lips are on the length of your neck. Everything about you screams dead nostalgia. You've followed him through lifetimes. Smiling as you dragged him across the sand dunes just to watch the sunset. How he longs to carve you open and feel your heart between his teeth. 

He's choking on sand.

Drowning in stardust.

Nur feels like he's swallowed the sun whole. Devoured Ra and spat out his holy bones. He still feels the sting of its rays seeping through his teeth. He's divinity and desperation are all in the same breath. Apocalypse and Nur are just two sides of the same daric. You stand in front of him, tracing the blues of his face, kissing the reds of his eyes. An excavation into the lost, unearthing that which could collapse the world. You enjoy him, savor him, keeping his gold essence on your tongue locked behind rose-tinted lips. You beg Nur to dig through your bones, open you up, unseal every crypt. He obliges, kissing the hollow of your bones until his teeth graze your unsteady heart.

"And what will you do once you meet the real world?"

"Oh, nothing, the real world will have to meet me first."

There is so much blood, he doesn't remember doing this. You stand beside him watching the sand in the hourglass run out. He is Apocolypse bringer of destruction, the end of worlds, funny how he needed you, frail sweet thing that you are, to remind him of this. It's only when he looks at you, really really looks at you that he realizes how many things are still the same. Twisted deformed yet still they harbor their old shapes. Apocolypse kisses you under the shade of a palm tree hoping it'll mean something in the end.

Hoping everything can just go back. 

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

TILL THE WORLD ENDS- L. HOWLETT

Pairing: Mob Associate! Logan x Mob Associate! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Logan has always seemed to have his eye on you, more than any other of his fellow co-workers. The sulking man was no more than a brooding mystery to you-until he steals you away from some men who get a little too close for comfort. Mission... failed?

Warnings: Logan being possesive, a little controlling, pet names, swearing, mention of drugs, drinking and sexual implications, teasing etc

Authors Note: hi! is this going to be a series? no idea! i think it will be... i love the idea of logan and y/n being in a little mob, crime ganster thingy together. this is enemies to lovers ;) also sorry for the spam of content, i just really like writing for logan hehe

"i can't take it, take it, take no more- never felt like, felt like this before, come on get me on the floor- DJ what you, what you waiting for?"- till the world ends, britney spears

“You’re hurting me.” you whined as Logan gripped your arm tightly, tugging you down a darkened hallway, the bright lights and loud, thumping music seeming to fade, as if someone had turned the volume all the way down.

His grip slightly loosened , but his pace never faltered. He glared at anyone who looked in your general direction, pulling you back into a quiet alcove.

“Why’d you do that?” you frowned, staring up into his darkened eyes that surveyed your body, as if he were looking for marks or slashes.

This mission wasn't supposed to be dangerous.

The men you worked with, and against were- yes, rather dangerous. But tonight? Your mission was simply to distract.

Be ‘eye- candy’ as Charles had told you, before the mob had split from the dingy office, the rest of the men leaving as quick as they arrived- except for Logan. You noticed he lingered by the doorway just a little longer, remaining in the shadows while you talked to Charles.

Logan, Scott and Hank would keep an eye out for Magneto, slipping into his office to grab the documents Charles needed to take down his whole operation, and get the money back that belonged to him.

You were supposed to distract any member of his crew.

Simple enough.

You had plenty of club experience, and the  fact you were still young and fun made dancing that much more easier. A sharp whistle escaped Hank's lips as you stepped out of your bunker room, eyes sweeping you down to take in your little mini skirt and black thigh high boots.

Logan, on the other hand- looked like he was going to start fuming.

“What? I’m supposed to distract.” you snickered, strutting past the group of men that followed every wish of your hips as you walked to the pack of motorcycles that waited for you.

Logan still hadn't let go of you just yet.

His eyes had been on you all night, watching you like a hawk from the balcony of the nightclub. It made your stomach twist in knots of confusion. Why he seemed to hunt you down- you didn't know.

He was quiet, stony and cold. He rarely showed emotion (except towards you, Hank had insisted, even though you didn't see it). And tonight it felt like the stakes had been raised.

You had eyed down a group of Magnetos men, a cat on the prowl as you drew them in with your eyes and your hips that swayed to the beat of the music. You had found yourself leaned against the chest of a man, as he grinded on you, holding your hips tightly.

White powder had found itself dusted around his nostrils, something herby smoking from the other man as they talked to you in low voices.

Trying to tempt you.

But before they could get very far, a firm grip had grabbed you, tugging you off the dance floor.

“Because they were getting too handsy.”

“Why do you care? It was my job. And you could’ve just fucked up the whole mission, thinking with your dick and not your brain.” you snorted, slightly tipsy from the shots you couldn't avoid taking under Magentos mens watch.

To them, you were just an innocent, ditsy party girl who fed off any attention a man would give you.

“We’ve got the documents, and we’re leaving.” he growled. You tried not to stare at his lips as he wet them, tongue darting out slightly.

“But the party’s just getting started! Don’t you wanna dance Mr. Howlett?” you asked teasingly, pushing him just that much further.

“Charles would kill you, and then me.”

“What, so now a girl can't dance? I did my job and I did it well. You’re not my boyfriend and neither is he, so why do you two give a shit?” you snapped, tugging your arm back out of his warm grasp.

He rolled his eyes, head turning to stare down a stranger that was just trying to go to the restroom.

“I give a shit if my enemy's men have their hands on you kid.”

“I’m not a kid.”

He looked you up and down, eyes lingering a little too long on your cleavage that popped out of your corset top, his eyes seeming to darken.

“No shit. So quit acting like one, and let's go. I'm supposed to look after you.”

“Says who?”

“Says Charles.”

You snorted, crossing your arms. “I don't need to be babied by him.”

“Well he's our boss, so I do what he says. We’re leaving. Hank and Scott are already almost back to the shop.”

You pursed your lips, clenching your thighs at the sight of him. He towered over you, annoyance and anger rolling off him in waves. You liked this whole pushing his buttons thing. You got a little thrill out of seeing how far you could go.

“Well I want to go dance. There are men over there, just begging to get a taste of me. I'm sure you could join them.” you raised an eyebrow, slipping around him to head back down the hallway towards the deep purple and blue lights.

“Don't you dare.” he growled.

“Awh Howlett are you jealous? How cute. Good thing you’re not the boss of me.”

You turned your back on him for no more than a split second, barely getting a stride in before his hand gripped your middle, spinning you around and flipping you up over his shoulder.

“THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU-” you scrambled, getting nowhere as he gripped your thighs harshly, turning on his heel to walk to the back exit. Whistling to himself, he shook his head at an alarmed passerby.

“She's drunk, I’m taking her home. Kids these days.” he smirked, and you struggled again to escape his grasp- failing.

The cool air hit your skin like a slap in the face as he shoved open the back door- the shot no longer protecting you from the chillness of the night. It didn't help that you barely had anything to cover you- and you haven't drank enough to be too drunk to care.

“Fine, if you're gonna be that way- I’ll just drive myself.” you snarled as you shimmed from his grasp- as he finally loosened his grip enough for you to escape. You headed towards your bike that stood propped up in the alleyway. You fought a shiver as a rush of wind brushed over you again, folding your arms tighter across yourself to try and barricade your exposed skin.

“Don't be stupid.” he stated, arm reached out- leather jacket in hand.

You turned, to simply stare at him, and the offering he gave you. You barely knew this man. Yet here he was, bossing you around and giving you his jacket as if he was yours.

It made your head hurt, to try and attempt his logic. “I can drive myself.”

“I'm sure you can. But youre not. We’ll get it in the morning.” he nodded to your bike, leather jacket still in hand.

He refused to let you win, and you were too tired to fight with him any longer. Plus, Charles was probably wondering where the fuck you two were, considering Hank and Scott would be back already, missing half the crew.

You took a breath, hesitantly reaching for the jacket. It was large, much too big for you, but it was warm as you slipped it on. It smelled like pine, smoke and whisky, and you couldn't help but breathe in the scent of well… him.

“I’m driving myself.”

“Do you really want me to pick you up again? You gonna stop acting like a lil brat?” he huffed, clearly growing tired of your antics. As if he hadn't been tired of them all night.

Oh well.

“Who do you think you are?!”

He sighed, hanging his head in disappointment. “Get on the back of the bike, kid. Dont fuck around, or you’ll find out.”

“Was that a threat, Mr.Howlett?”

He stared at you, large muscles flexing as he tried to hold himself back- from what, you didn't know.

His fuse was short. You liked to burn it out.

And you planned to do it the rest of the way home.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

❄Fallen Snow🩸 AU... From the Platonic Yanderes' Persepective:

(Warnings: Its the ❄Fallen Snow🩸 AU, so expect abuse, neglect, blood, and a whole lot of guilt. The platonic yans who knew Reader in the past weren't nice to them, and while they do get better, they didn't get better until AFTER they thought Reader had died... Viewer discretion is advised... Kurt, Kitty, Fred, Todd/Toad, and Lance joined AFTER Reader's "death"...)

• They don't think they'd always been that bad. That hateful. Awful. Horrible. Terrifying. Cruel. But whether they were or not... they'd turned into something they didn't even recognize, something that was a shameful, guilt-ridden part of their past.

• For the adults (The Professor, Storm, Mystique, Wolverine, Sabretooth, Magento, and Beast), Reader was... someone they acquired through odd means. They weren't the only one they had brought with them, as there were two others, similar to them, and all three were feral mutants. Yet somehow... compared to how the other children were, their "siblings" and the other kids, they didn't quite click. The kids (Scott, Jean, Evan, Rogue, Pietro, and Wanda) didn't like them much, either.. For both groups, perhaps it was how they talked about odd subjects, or was off in their own little world half the time. Maybe it was their forgiving nature, always smiling and trying to be nice no matter what they all said or did. Maybe it was because Reader was everything they had wanted for themselves, but had never been able to have, had never been able to be... Either way, it led to an annoyance. A dislike for them and their cheery voice and soft eyes.

• With the adults, they found Reader odd from the start. A child no older than five who, despite being an experiment, was not like their "siblings", nor like the other children they had on hand. They were... sweet. Cuddly. Someone who just kept trying and trying to get along and be friends with everyone. They didn't seem to have a mean bone in their body. It made them feel... weird. That they didn't seem to understand they were odd, that they weren't cared about all that much. How could they begin to? They were loud, they were persistent, they never seemed to want to be alone and didn't get what was wrong with the world. Not to mention all of the questions! They were irritated most of the time with them, tired of dealing with the steady stream of constant love and inquiries and attempts to hug them.

• Over the years, it was easier and easier to wear then down, to get them to shut up and stay out of the way. Reader didn't seem all that bright when it came to social cues or sarcasm or jokes or how the world really was, and the kids took every opportunity to poke at those. A few jokes here and there, whispers between each other when they were alone, practical jokes at Reader's expense. It was almost funny, watching them try so hard to understand what they were doing and getting all upset over it. Yet Reader never got angry. Hardly acted like a feral, hardly used any of their mutations to win, to protect themself. They made it so easy to mess with them. It was second nature for all of them to do so. To keep prodding and jabbing at their insecurities and lack of knowledge, earning snickers whenever there was more than one witnessing it. In the present, they all can't stop hating themselves over how they acted. How they were the reason they were gone. And how they weren't coming back. And it was all. Their. FAULT. And they couldn't change it, no matter what they did.

• Being the pseudo "siblings" to Reader made them targets, an easy mark (Laura Kinney/X-23 and Kyle Gibney/Wild Child). So they made it so they were the ones over Reader, the ones who were in control. The ones at the top of the heap. They didn't stick up for their "sibling", and they didn't intervene when the other kids messed with them. Why should they? They did it, too. Reader was at the bottom of the pecking order, be it with the kids or with the feral mutants in general. Just because they were a part of them didn't mean they'd stop. Didn't mean they'd coddle them or let their weakness rub off on them. Shoving them aside and staying away from them was natural for them. It wasn't their problem, and they weren't about to lose their own place just to help the most useless mutant they'd met. In the future, they'd wonder why they weren't more attached. Why couldn't they have stuck by their side, protecting them rather than shoving them into the deep end? Without Reader... where did that leave them? They were the only other one like them, someone who had tried to comfort them and befriend them, never caring if they got hurt in the process. Never holding their own shortcomings against them. And now they were gone, and it was awful, and they had one less pack member to run with.

• For the two older feral adults (Wolverine and Sabretooth) to teach Reader had been a task. They were someone who would rather hug someone than try to fight them, a kid who had to be told multiple times what to do, had to be walked through everything, and who seemed to fail almost every time when it came to being aggressive. Their annoyance ran deep, which turned to resentment, which turned to anger every time they saw them. How was THIS creature anywhere near related to them?! How was this thing even worthy of their powers? They were useless, pathetic, weak. They had some points when it came to strength and bite force, but that was a drop compared to the ocean of mistakes they'd made. The river of problems they were. Hating them didn't take much more. And how they'd hate this, looking back on it. They were monsters. There was no other way of saying it. It was their own fault, for pushing and forcing them and always yelling at them. Always letting their cub know what they thought of them, compared to the others. And they were left with a rotting, agonizing self-hatred for themselves. If they hadn't been so hard... If they hadn't been so cruel... Maybe their kid wouldn't have been dead, with no body to bury or mourn...

• No one was quite sure what led to the wounding of Reader. Perhaps it was a scalding lie, or pointing their fingers at each other until it eventually fell on them. Or maybe it was because they could blame it all on Reader, someone who couldn't defend themself and who no one cared if was punished. But when Reader had been dealt with... They were a different person. Someone who shook whenever the adults came by. Who kept away from the other kids with no prompting, walking the other way when they came by. They didn't speak unless they were asked a question, and they didn't look directly at anyone anymore. And their face... Where the skin was once smooth and unbroken, there were deep, rouge-stained gouges, a mark of their new change. It was welcome at first. Finally, they shut up and learned how they all felt. Until-

• They left.

• They left, in the dead of a snow-washed wintery night, leaving as fast as they could and not looking back. And a few of them pursued, chasing after Reader, who they knew was going to be in the largest load of trouble since two weeks ago, when they'd been taught their lesson. When they found them, they were at the edge of some rocks, a river close by and roaring below, and they all felt their ire grow. The adult/s demanded they come back, so they could be done with it. But Reader just stepped back, their arms folding up against their chest, eyes wide like a fawn caught by a predator. They'd demanded again, then again, yelling-

• CRACK!

• The rock fell out from under Reader, who screamed, high and terrified-

• And they were gone, swallowed by the raging waters below, bits of red and pink dotting the foam and surface, soon fading as the river roared on...

• Then suddenly... they weren't so angry anymore. For once, they felt... scared. Hollow. Horrified. It didn't matter when the adults ran over, checking over the remaining ledge and scanning the icy waves below, shouting loudly. It didn't matter when the kids who were with them peered around each other, trying to confirm what had just happened had actually happened. Nor did it matter when they searched the shores of the river and found nothing, save for a few pinkish bits of foam and shards of ice, carrying the scent of iron and frost. All that mattered was Reader was gone... And it was their fault. They had- they didn't mean- it was an acci- what- No matter what excuse they thought of or fleeting emotion they felt-

• Reader was DEAD. And they had no one to blame but themselves.

• The adults after that were... quiet. Sullen. Almost as though in a trance, like they were stuck on that night, like they couldn't get over the fact they saw one of their own kids just die right before their eyes. The kids weren't much better, trying to seek any comfort they could, whether they saw the death or learned it had happened. That winter was blistering cold, as though even the elements were numb and in disbelief.

• This was something they'd joked about... This was something that a few might have talked about... But now that it had actually come true... They didn't feel like laughing anymore. If anything, they felt like crying. Like curling up in a ball and disappearing from the world. This was- it was their fault, wasn't it? Thats what they all believe. If they'd reached out, or- or tried to befriend them, or maybe just treated them better, hugged them back once, they wouldn't have ran, and they wouldn't be frozen in the river, lost to the cold and quiet and night. But... maybe if they even HAD stopped them from running... who's to say they wouldn't have tried something else? If they thought they couldn't leave... would they have done something worse? Would they have actually-?! They feel sick thinking about it, throwing up when they can't stop themselves from imagining it. It's a nightmare, what they're living, and there is no waking up from it.

• The adults slowly start talking again, interacting with them and calling them all together... But according to them, they all... They all are going to try and be better. They say they never should have pushed them so hard, they never should have yelled or forced or neglected their emotional needs. That what they'd been doing before stops there, and it ends there. From now on, things are going to be different. And this time, they're going to learn from what happened. That no one is going to make the mistake they made again.

• They keep their word. The adults grow into caring, more loving figures. They listen to the kids, who turn to teens, and help them. If their views are different, they don't yell or roar or rage at them, don't force them to agree, they simply agree to disagree, and let them know they're there if they need to talk. If the ferals go into their instincts, instead of attacking each other or turning against the others of the facility, they go to a special room where they can simply go through their urges, cuddling together and trying not to cry or hurt themselves for what had happened. The teens become more understanding, caring individuals, being friends rather than foes, and help each other, staying careful of each other's feelings and boundaries. The adults are there, always trying to steer them away from danger, hugging them if they want it (even if they don't), fixing them food if they're hungry, playing games with them, and when they train, it's as a group, as a family, rather than as rivals stuck together.

• Somehow, about three years after Reader's death, a few of them had been exploring at a new area, where the river had run by. It's cold, being so close to it, and it still haunts their dreams, along with a blonde child with bright eyes... Yet one of them finds something, caught in the branches near an old den, sharp and thorny: A piece of cloth, tattered and withered by the wilds, but speckled with rusted brown... When they bring the tattered remnant back to their home, it's inspected, but when the adult ferals look it over... Their eyes go wide, and suddenly their sniffing it, soon looking at them and asking them in a desperate voice where they found it. The moment they say where it was, the entire group is called together to discuss something they haven't discussed in so long... The piece of cloth, it has Reader's scent... So there is the smallest, tiniest chance that... Reader might have survived, after all.

• It doesn't take any prompting for them to pull some of their team members together to form a group to investigate the area they found the shred of cloth, and to scout out the surrounding towns near it. If Reader did survive... they hopefully wouldn't have left the region. And if anyone had seen anything odd, such as a child with claws or a wet bedraggled cat of kid, they would likely remember it (and if they wouldn't share what they knew, they wouldn't mind threatening them to make sure they had every bit of information about it they knew).

• Searching the region, it's clear to see it is mostly desolate of human life, save for small towns hidden in valleys and forests, full of snow-capped trees and icy slicks of ice, flakes of snow falling down like rain. When they stumble on a tiny town surrounded by chilly woods and freezing weather, is when they finally catch word of someone who might have been Reader... A lone child, always quiet and scarred, who brings in pelts and bones for a living... Investigating further, the people say the kid has a family, a sickly parent and a relative who takes care of their schooling when they drop by, but that they've never seen them before. According to the kid, their family is paranoid, leaving them as the only one who isn't afraid of going out and making ends meet.

• Well. It seems they have their lead.

• And when they find a cabin, old and worn and wet, the air is scented... And the smell is one they haven't smelled in three years. Soon, a person can be seen, a lanky teen with long, scruffy blonde hair and bright eyes... The moment they see them, everyone freezes.

• Seeing them again... Seeing how scrawny they are... The scars that mar their skin all over... The hunched shoulders and wide, scared eyes... A scent that turns sharp and acidic, tainted by thick, overflowing fear...

• "Reader..."

• In a flash Reader bolts, darting into the cold woods, not slowing even when they call after them, not stopping when they go after them. Reader keeps a step ahead, fast as a hare as their feet carry them over rocks and past patches of ice. Even trying to dart them doesn't work, the tranquilizer thumping into the snow beside them. The snow keeps falling, dusting them all in powdery white flakes as they follow. The teens who came along fall back when the two ferals signal them, letting then know they'll handle the situation... It doesn't take them much longer to find Reader, cutting them off as they block off either side of the small clearing. And what a moment it is...

• Reader is so... small, compared to them. It doesn't help that they shrink in on themself, their fangs bared and eyes fearful. They can see the scars across their face better now, sliced in and deep, a different color than the rest of their flesh. It's hard, seeing them this way. They're too thin, too shaking, too fearful. Even scars line their arms, as though made by an object rather than by accident... And they realize that even though Reader has been away, they haven't been much better off...

• "Oh cub... What did we do ta ya?"

• Trying to step closer only leads to their cub stepping back. It doesn't take more than a heartbeat for then to try to dodge past them, swift and desperate-

• But one of them manages to snag them by the back of their shirt, dragging them into a hold. They try to reason with them, try to talk them down from a panic attack, being as gentle and sincere as they can. But nothing works. No promises of peace, no begging to help them, no pleas to calm down and give them a chance... None of it works. And they fight them. Sharp claws scratch at them, all while Reader struggles, screaming and wailing and biting, not stopping in the least. They try to do things without force one more time... But when their cub only cries harder, they know it won't go anywhere. Their kid is too deep into their trauma, too scared, and the most merciful thing to do is to cut it short.

• The syringe is jabbed in, quick and sharp, and pulled out a second later once it's empty. Explaing to their cub that it was only a sedative makes them cry harder, a broken sob escaping them. Their struggles grow wilder for a minute- until it starts to slow down, as the drug takes effect. They pat their head softly, a hiccup escaping the cub as the medicine calms them down, making them tired and relaxed. Feeling the way they slowly relax, their limbs slackening and their breaths slowing, a tired mumble coming from them... It isn't what they want, but they can't deny how right it feels, getting their kid to feel better. To soothe them when they've been hurtin'. When the cub passes out, slumping into his arms, he's every bit careful and soft, picking them up and letting his brother lead the way back to the others, alerting them that they have Reader with them.

• This isn't how they wanted it ta go... But... If this is what it takes ta keep 'em safe. Ta make 'em feel better. Ta take care of 'em... So be it. All that matters is helpin' Reader, keepin' em safe an' fed an' well, makin' em feel loved an' cared fer. They might have ta be a little forceful about it. That's fine. They'll be as gentle as they can, an' make sure their cub can't hurt themself er others. They'll keep 'em happy, they'll make it so they know how much they care. Even if it takes a lifetime, they'll keep proving how sorry they are, how much they missed 'em, how much they love them... They might well be immortal... Who's to say their cub isn't, too? And this time, they're all going to be a family. No more fighting. No more rivalries. All of them, together, will make things right. That's a promise that they won't break, no matter what comes their way...

[i-wanna-write]

If One’s Different, One’s Bound to be Lonely - Wolverine Fic

Fic Synopsis: We know Wolverine and Sabertooth but the reader is known as Jackal. Just like the other two, their mutation is animalistic, lending them healing factors, enhanced physical abilities, and animal senses. This fic details their relationship with the Anchor!Wolverine and how they ended up meeting the Worst!Logan

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Chapter Warning: angst, slight tiny fluff, violence, mentioned of experimentation/torture - nothing too graphic

Word Count: 2.6k+

A/N: SO SORRY for the long wait!! I have an outline for this story and promise to never abandon it! Life just got crazy! But here’s an update!

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Logan stayed at the school, helping you and the X-Men defeat Magento. The evil mutant was planning on transferring his powers to Rogue, the teen Logan saved, which would kill the girl. However, a plan was developed and you, Scott, Ororo, and Logan were able to rescue Rogue, ending with Magento being imprisoned.

For you it was a crazy experience. You’ve fought mutants before but for some reason Magneto was different. Maybe it was because you witness Magneto, a mutant who can control metal, control Logan. Logan who, to you, is a very powerful mutant.

That frightened you as Magneto’s main goal was to take down the worlds leaders. You were terrified of what would happen if he succeeded.

But thankfully, the X-men and Logan were able to defeat him at the top of the Statue of Liberty. You were amazed as you witnessed Rogue’s powers - taking Logan’s regenerative ability to heal herself after the fight.

The girl had been through so much and continues to do so but knowing she had Logan, and Logan her, you were greatful.

So you all returned to the mansion after the fight. Those who couldn’t heal had their wounds tended to while you and James shared a beer in the kitchen - the alcohol from your room.

The two of you just sat in silence, neither really having anything to say. To you, the fight reminded you of the days you would run into Logan and Victor, with one of the mutants having fought tonight having a Sabertooth mutation.

You stewed in your thoughts, wondering what Logan was thinking. A small part of you hoped being together and fighting would lend him some memory - anything. Only it didn’t.

You almost wished you had Jean’s and Charles’ powers. So you could pry into his mind and see what he was thinking about. If he approved of the way you fought tonight. If he was turned on watching you as you were him.

However, your thoughts were interrupted when Charles entered. The man said nothing at first, shooting just a displeased look at your choice of beverage.

“We earned these Old man.” You state to him, raising your beer.

Charles shook his head. You watched as he glanced between you and Logan, as if struggling with what to say. Finally, Logan cut through the silence.

“What is it?” He asked, a scrutinizing look on his face.

You take him in, noticing the way his body is tensed, jaw clenched. He seems to be reading that there’s some sort of trouble. That maybe there's another evil mutant who wants to take over the world.

Only that’s not the case.

“First I would like to thank you for your assistance with Magneto.” Charles begins, addressing solely Logan.

Pfft, old man doesn’t want to thank you, you guess.

“But?” Logan gripes.

“No buts.” Charles says. “However, there is some information I have come across that I believe would interest you.” His eyes then turn to you. “Both of you.”

You sit forward on your seat, staring intently at Charles. The man has been a Godsend since you met him. No hidden agenda whatsoever. Whatever he’s going to share is important.

“There’s a location in Alberta Canada. It’s called Alkali Lake and believed to have been a base for Weapon X. I believe you may find some answers there.”

There’s a moment of silence. Both you and Logan taking in the information. After all these years you may finally find out the truth.

You look up and eyes meet Logan’s brown ones. His are determined. As if he’s waited this moment his entire life and you guess that he has since his memory was taken from him.

“When do ya’ wanna leave?” He asks you.

…

You and Logan left the following morning. You quickly said goodbye to Ororo and Jean, not before Ororo teased you about having alone time with Logan.

You had to hand to the women. She always knew how to make you smile or laugh when things when to shit.

You packed your back and was ready to go that night, not once thinking about your lesson plan or the students you’re leaving behind.

It’s as if the Jackal has come back in full force since Charles revealed the information he found. Your focus is slowly on finding those who captured you. Your focus is solely on revenge.

Charles allowed you and Logan to grab a truck from the school to venture to Alberta. Logan started off driving first but the two of you eventually switched on and off, one of you sleeping and the other driving.

Two days into your travels you wore Logan down and convinced him to get a motel room for the night. You wanted to get to the location just as fast as he did. But with both of your increased sense of smell, you weren’t sure how much longer you could take dealing with the both of you not showering.

You were just near the border of Canada and North Dakota when you spotted the sign and convinced him to stop for the night. You quickly checked in, getting a room with two beds before heading back to the truck to get Logan.

You both grabbed your bags and entered the room, noting the rundown decor and dilapidated fixtures.

“I’ve stayed in worse.” You state, shrugging as you take a step in and place your stuff on the bed closest to the door.

Logan snorts, walking to the other bed and placing his bag down before sitting next to it.

“Guess you can shower first since you’re the one that wanted to stop.” Logan grumbles, an unhappy look on his face.

You roll your eyes but unzip your bag, grabbing new everything. You also reach in and grab a bottle you stored, knowing it would come in handy.

You walk towards the bathroom, passing the seated Logan on the way and hold out the bottle to him.

“Figured this might make you happpy.” You say, watching as his eyes slightly light up at the sight of the liquor and he grabs it from your hand.

You shake your head at his antics. No memory but same personality. You then make your way into the bathroom to clean up.

…

You’re not in there for more then ten minutes, not wanting the hot water to waste and make Logan take a cold shower. You quickly dress and put your hair in a braid before stepping out.

You see Logan has apparently disagreed with your bed choice and moved your bag to the one farther from the door and took the closer one for himself.

“You had to touch my shit?” You question, taking a seat on the bed and almost moaning out of relief that it’s not a truck seat.

Logan rolls his eyes and stands, going through his own bag this time to collect clean clothes.

“I ain’t sleeping in a corner bub.” He states before handing the bottle of liquor to you and entering the bathroom.

This time it’s you who rolls your eyes but out of fondness. When you and Logan lived together for those few years, his side was always closest to the door. He said how he didn’t like how he felt like he was sleeping in a corner and this way he’d be closest to the first sign of danger.

You unmake the bed and get under the covers, layering the pillows behind you. You glance up at the ceiling and take a swig of the whiskey, allowing it to burn down your throat.

You can’t help but be nervous about what you might find at the location. If you’ll find the people who experimented on you. The people who took Logan’s memory.

Your heart aches at that thought. Being with solely him the past few days has been rough. It’s hard to not talk to him like you used. To not reminisce on the past that only one of you remembers.

With that thought you take another swig of the liquor. You’re pissed. So pissed. How dare they take you. How dare they take him. Who are they to fuck with your lives and screw everything up. You want so badley to rip their throats out for what they’ve done.

“Simmer down bub. I can smell the anger.” Logan’s voice startles you out of your thoughts.

You watch as he’s back into the room in just a pair of jeans and have to stop yourself from admiring his physique. You’ve missed being able to openly admire him. To touch his shoulders, his abs. To place light kisses on his pecs.

But he’s not yours anymore and you’re afraid he never will be again.

You take another swig at that thought before taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. You inhale through your nose loudly and let out a sigh to change the subject.

“Smell that?” You ask rhetorically. “Freshly cleaned mutants! You can’t tell me you aren’t glad we stopped?”

You watch as Logan takes a seat on the bed before laying down, only he’s laying on top of the covers. Apparently he’s too anxious to relax fully.

“Why don’t you quite being a smart ass and get some sleep?” Logan questions reaching over to snag the bottle from your hands before turning off the light. “We’ll be there tomorrow soon enough.”

You let out a sigh before rolling onto your side so your back is facing him. You try to stop the thoughts racing through your head. Unfortunately for you, sleep is hard to find.

…

You and Logan made it to the facility. Or what was left of it. The place itself is abandoned in the middle of the woods. The two of you don’t stray too far from the other while you try to find anything or anyone that can offer answers.

The building is full of broken equipment. Computer screens cracked, dried blood smeared on the walls, doors ripped of the hinges, decomposing corpses at every turn. It seems whoever was in charge of the place didn’t bother to clean up once they were found.

You and Logan make your way deeper into the building, leaving no room or equipment unturned incase a file can be restored and information revealed.

Logan is walking slightly in front of you while you examine a computer before you notice that he stopped. You watch as he lightly lifts his head up and inhales through his nose before turning slightly.

“What is it? Do you smell someone?” You question, rising to your feet and waking closer to him. You inhale yourself but don’t smell anything except him and the chaos around you.

He shakes his head no but begins to walk forward, this time at a faster pace. You follow behind quietly, wondering what it is he’s scented.

Soon, he’s lead the two of you to two doors that vaguely resemble an operating room dooor. You watch as he hesitates before gently pushing the door open.

You follow him inside and look around to see the mess. There’s an overturned exam chair in the middle of it, arms and leg restraints connected to it. One side is composed of research equipment such as microscopes and vials, the other full of instruments thrown about haphazardly and stained with blood.

You turn to look at Logan in confusion. Why did the scent of this room speak to him so much that he’d want to come in here?

You notice how his eyes have a devasting look in them and his mouth is drawn into a frown. As if he can’t believe what he’s looking at and trying to make sense of it.

“What is it?” You quesiton him. “What lead you to this room?”

“You.” He says quietly. “This room smells like you.” He says brown eyes meeting your E/C ones.

You freeze. You realize now what you’re looking at. You’re own torture room. While this location was a dead end for Logan, it’s not for you. It’s where you were held. Where you were tortured and experimented on. Where your eggs were extracted and you were sedated for months.

Rage takes over you and you lose it. You let out a scream and feel your teeth and nails elongate. You rush to the side with the research equipment and swipe it, throwing it the floor. You punch the cabinets and rip them down before kicking the chair and sending it flying into the other wall.

You grab the next object you can find and throw it too, letting out a roar. How dare they! They kept you here for months, away from Logan, away from the world just to use you. To take from you.

Your breathing picks up and senses dial in, the Jackal taking control. You sense another body in the room and go to attack, throwing a punch with your teeth bared.

The other person blocks the attack but you quickly deliver another, this time landing the blow. You throw punch after punch, teeth bared each time and ready to tear their throat out.

The other person doesn’t seem to fight back which only makes you angrier. You eyes narrow on their neck, watching as their pulse raises and falls and you go in for the kill. You need to make them pay for what they did to you.

“Y/N!” You hear but it doesn’t register, the urge to fight still prominent.

You lunge, ready to make contact but the person stops you. Their hands encircle around your wrist and hold so tight you think you hear your bone snap. You don’t care.

With your arms pinned to your sides, you keep trying to get at their throat. To get even. To get revenge.

“Y/N! Snap out of it!” The voice yells again.

You feel your back slammed against the wall and let out a gasp as the impact causes the wind to knock out of you.

“Hey! Sweetheart! Knock it off!” The voice yells and this time something clicks.

Sweetheart.

There’s only one person that calls you that.

Logan.

You take a deep breath in and suddenly everything comes back again. You’re not there. Well you are, but you’re out. They’re not hurting you anymore.

The scent of Logan is suddenly all you can smell and your teeth and nails return to normal as your eyes meet brown. Logan is looking down at you, still holding you pinned to the wall.

His eyes are concerned and understanding, searching yours to make sure the Jackal is gone.

“I-I’m sorry.” You croak out as tears start to fall. “I-“

“Hey shhh.” Logan says, slowly releasing your hands. “You’re okay.”

You nod, the tears now falling. You want to tell him. “They had me for months. They - they kept me sedated cause I fought too hard. And they - they.”

“Hey, you don’t gotta tell be bub.” Logan says, his hands now resting on your shoulders and gently moving over them.

It’s as if you don’t hear him as you continue. “I talked to J-Jean and they - they extracted my eggs to see if they could manipulate them to carry the X gene. For months they kept me out and just -“

You can’t finish, the thought once again being too much for you to handle.

Logan doesn’t say anything. But he does pull you into him tightly, his arms wrapping around your shoulders. You let him, your own moving to cling to his back, burying your face in his chest as sobs escape you.

His hands move up and down your back to try to calm you down. You take deep breaths, trying to slow your breathing and stop your tears. You listen to Logan’s heartbeat and own breaths to do so.

You’re finally able to stop crying but Logan doesn’t let you go. He just holds you, feeling that in this moment, that’s all you need.

He might not remember you and might not be your Logan, but in this moment, you realize he could become yours again.

\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///

Tag List: @randomblogzsblog, @sebastianstanblog, @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @somiaw @sseleniaa @whyamistillontumbler @badbishsblog @moompie @twilight-dyrad @theclassicvinyldragon @d3ad2you @ayamenimthiriel @needz1nk @superblyspeedydragon

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Humans And Mutants - Chapter 10 - Logan Howlett X Female Reader

Title: It's All A Lie

Previous Chapter | Current Chapter | Next Chapter

Logan Howlett X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Jean, Scott, Kurt, Ororo, Charles, Magneto, Mystique (Mentioned), Pyro (Mentioned), Stryker (Mentioned), some of the children (Mentioned), and Mutant 143

WC: 982

Warnings: X-Men canon violence, X-Men canon storyline, brief mention of death/killing, italics, slow burn, and angst

(Sorry, if this series is a bit odd, I made this in 2018)

Ororo stared at Jean in agony. She then turned to the children, to the other X-Men, and then to Nightcrawler, who then spoke, “But, Miss Ororo…” He began, only for them all to look at her. From the look on her face, they all knew there was no debate.

“Get to the helicopter.” Ororo said to Cyclops.

Cyclops nodded, and Nightcrawler wrapped his arms around Ororo, and closed his eyes. “You have five minutes before I come in after you.” Logan said to Ororo, who nodded, her lips pursed.

“Our Father who art in Heaven. Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom comes, thy will be done, on Earth…” Nightcrawler whispered, then they both disappeared. They then reappeared and discovered themselves on the platform behind Charles in the Cerebro of Mutant 143’s vision. Nightcrawler stared in awe at the room, and the billions of white lights that were twisting above. Dark Cerebro’s hum was getting faster and faster, while the white lights brightened even more. “... As it is in Heaven.” Nightcrawler finished his prayer, in awe.

At the same time, the hum echoed throughout. Stryker pulled on the chains that were binding hom and felt the effect of Dark Cerebro pulling on his mind. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Then he heard a voice, “Mr. Stryker. How good to see you again.” Magneto spoke as Stryker lifted his head up to see both Magneto and Mystique. “It seems that we keep running into each other.” Swiftly, the chains wrapped around Stryker’s throat, strangling him; he was choking. “Mark my words, it will never happen again.” Magneto finished.

Later in the helicopter, Magneto sat next to Mystique. She pushed a button, and the propellers began to spin. She was about to pull back on the stick when she looked outside. Magneto turned to meet her gaze, his eyes narrowed curiously. Outside the helicopter was Pyro, alone, flicking his lighter open and closed. Magneto looked to Mystique for guidance, she had no answer. Magneto reached out and opened the door, and with a smile and a nod, Magento stretched his hand out as an offer to come aboard. Pyro hesitated, but then put his lighter into his pocket. He walked to the helicopter and joined them silently. The helicopter then took off, flying high into the sky. Magneto, Mystique, and Pyro; the new ally.

The little girl glanced up to see Ororo and Nightcrawler at the very end of the platform behind Charles, and just as they made eye contact, Ororo yelled, “Professor!” Her voice was as soft as a whisper against the sounds of Cerebro and the hold that the little girl had on Charles’ mind.

The platform between the little girl and Ororo started to stretch to near-infinity. The platform was so long that it looked like an endless highway expanding into a void. Cerebro was massive, the aspect was completely off. The rotating globe seemed to be the actual size of the Earth.

“I hear them… But I can’t find them.” Charles looked about with the help of Cerebro but saw nothing.

“Then increase the signal.” The little girl said stubbornly. He closed his eyes again, concentrating. The droning got louder. In the back of the platform, Ororo was running towards Charles but made no headway. The little girl suddenly appeared in front of her and glared. “Stay away.” She spoke, glaring at the women.

Ororo took another step forward anyway, against the little girl’s demanding words. The platform between her and the girl suddenly broke and fell into the abyss, creating a massive chasm between them. Ororo looked into the chasm, then closed her eyes and continued walking forward. Nightcrawler was completely terrified.

“This is just an illusion. You can't fool me. It’s all just a game.” She spoke. She stepped forward, unafraid. Her foot stepped into the abyss and she fell, screaming. Nightcrawler's tail reached down and grabbed her, pulling her back up onto the platform with him. The room rocked by the sound of another explosion. The illusion quickly fell, then re-aligned itself. The girl flashed into Mutant 143 and back again. The lights were getting brighter, the hum was getting louder and louder. Back at the control panel of Cerebro, Charles looked around, still unable to find anyone. “Professor!” Ororo yelled, her voice was very faint in his ears and mind.

Ororo and Nightcrawler looked up and saw the panels on the ceiling raining down. Ororo looked at Nightcrawler and glanced back at Charles. Nightcrawler quickly enveloped his arms around her and they disappeared, reappearing in-between Charles and the girl. The girl stared at them angrily.

“Ororo. I was just trying to find you.” Charles spoke, still unknowing of what was really going on.

“Professor, you have to stop Cerebro now.” Ororo said, desperate for it all to end.

Charles smiles, “I’m just locating the others… And showing our friend the mutants of the world.” 

The little girl smiled as Charles looked up at the billions of white lights. “These aren’t the mutants of the world.” Ororo said, leaving Charles confused and bewildered once more. “Professor, none of this is real. It’s an illusion. You have to see beyond it.” Ororo explained, trying to snap him out of it.

The little girl moved to Charles’s side. “Don’t listen to her, she’s lying!” The little girl yelled, now desperate.

“Professor! Who is this girl?” Ororo pleaded with Charles.

Charles continued to smile, “She’s a student.” Charles answered, as if it was a fact.

“You know every student in the school. Which one is she?” Ororo asked, gesturing to the child. “This is an illusion, Professor. You’ve been inside it for far too long.”

The girl's eyes quickly changed, one blue and the other green. Charles thought hard. He looked up to the white lights and back to the girl. Realization crossed his face. “Jason...”

---

@ashdoctor @powergirlsupremacy @weallhaveadestiny @amandarobertsboyce @casey162

---

Main Masterlist | X-Men Masterlist

[aintgonnatakethis]

#2, #8, #13, #14, #16, and #18 I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS

Hey @thestorieswesay ❤️️ Sorry this is so late, but you better than anyone know what I'm like! 💀 Double apology that most of these answers are not SGU-related, but I've been on a movie binge recently. *rubs hands together*

2. a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

Answered here, but tbh I struggle to sort characters into such rigid categories. I'll say Telford has a big preference for bottoming, to the point where in the kink series when Rush immediately tells him he doesn't want to get fucked, Telford's only potential pitfall is if it's because Rush views the act of bottoming as intrinsically degrading. When he decides that isn't the reason, then he's completely on board to never top, no further questions asked. (Also, I'm thinking this question would be better if it asked why your fave would never dom or sub 👀)

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

So I recently rewatched all the Alien films before the new one (which I didn't think was very good, but that's a discussion for a whole other post as I have a lot to say about it lol) Anyway, we have the Prometheus/Covenant reboot that unfortunately failed, which I speak briefly about here. Common fandom opinion is that Prometheus was bad, a lot of complaints about there not actually being any xenomorphs in it, blah blah blah.

But. It's a prequel. It describes where the xenomorphs came from, their evolution, etc. So of course they're not going to be in the movie all that much! 😡 The film offered a new spin to the franchise and I thought it was awesome. It had all the xenomorph lore and evolution information I could get my greedy little hands on! You don't need two dozen fully grown xenomorphs coming at you (and somehow you survive which kind of takes the danger thrill out of the rest of the movie 🙄) - Romulus - or chestbursters coming out through the spine instead in a generic horror movie body-jerking-around way - Covenant - to make a good horror movie. The alien franchise was never generic and that was what set it apart back when the originals were made.

13. worst blorboficiation

Sort of answered here with the SGU fandom often ignoring Young's and Rush's worse traits (though I definitely know that's not a problem you suffer from 😜)

For a fresh answer, let's return to the alien movies Prometheus/Covenant. In them, there's an android called David (played by Michael Fassbender 🤤) - he's an evil boy, mad scientist type, villain with a legit reason to be pissed, all good stuff! But he's not Magento-evil where everything he does is completely understandable. David is EVIL evil. He's going around impregnating people with alien fetuses and cutting people up while they're still alive and swallowing alien embryos to later vomit back up once he's through the detection system… And the fandom… Bros. Buddies. Pals. Chaps. You want to make him soft and lovey-dovey and reader-insert where you're the only one capable of changing him? Idk man… Let him be evil. As a treat.

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

Worked my way through all the X-Men movies too, and it's nice to be in a fandom where there's an abundance of fanfic as opposed to having to produce the majority of it myself or just live with there not being much if any new material because it's an older/not as popular series. But I see a lot of X-Men: First Class fics having Erik being dominant in bed and I… 😂 Well, that guy has a telepathy kink a mile wide and it's a crime there's not more fic of him being the sub he's so obviously desperate to be!

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

Crossing SGU over with OUAT, in order to ship Belle with Rush. ...Well, I can understand, because the reason they're doing it is to paste themselves onto Belle so they can fuck Rush, but I don't get it. 15% of SGU fics on AO3 are OUAT crossovers 😑

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on…

I feel like you're say-the-line-Bart-ing me 😂

choose violence ask game

[harrylovesteas]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ harrylovesteas’ masterlists & basic information.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ hello and welcome to my blog. i’ve been writing for most of my teen and adult years , however , i never really published them. now that i’m in my mid-twenties i’ve returned to writing as a form of relaxation.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ i currently live in EST ( eastern standard time ) and check my blog when i am able. i have a fairly demanding job along with some health issues , which means i can be very active or barely around. however, my inbox and messages will always be open if you have a request , want to react to any of my writings or just want to chat !!

on going stories :

xoxo , little bird - a modern aemond targaryen x ( implied tully ) reader

rose bush- a discontented harry styles fanfic

maybe i still love you - a lorna dane x alex summers fic ( coming soon)

one shots & imagines :

requests & characters i write for :

i do accept requests and will do my best to write out what you ask for. however, i do have a busy life and it can take up to two weeks for it to be published. if i get overwhelmed i may put the request on hold and post it as soon as i can. writing is a hobby for me and there are times I may have more ideas for certain requests and plots. i may accept plots for characters that are not listed. if they aren’t listed feel free to just ask .ᐟ i may have wanted to write for them but i don’t have ideas , or maybe i’m currently working on something for them !

ch. i will write for :

asoiaf / game of thrones / house of the dragon / fire and blood

aegon targaryen

aemond targaryen

alicent hightower

cregan stark

daemon targaryen

daenerys targaryen

jacaerys velaryon

helaena targaryen

rhaenyra targaryen

robb stark

sansa stark

marvel

bucky barns ( any version )

cyclops

havok

magento

magik

polaris

last kingdom

finan

osferth

sihtric

uhtred

witcher

yennefer

triss

emhyr

geralt

ragnorok ( netflix )

fjor

laurits

magne

saxa

divider credit : @animatedglittergraphics-n-more