#WHY IS MAGNETO IN MY HOUSE

[wishchip106]

oh god the brainrot got so bad that i nearly called my brother ‘Erik’ 😨😨😨

i cant even say “save me cherik” ITS THEIR FAULT 😭😭😭😭

thank god i caught myself beforehand i would’ve died on the spot in shame

[agentnavi]

pissing myself off at 5 AM cause i thought about how much marvel fucked up tommy shepherd for too long

[joshriku]

at any and all times i'm thinking of this

[flowersforbucky]

magnetic field

erik lehnsherr x reader

word count: 2k

summary: takes place following the events of days of future past. reader is a mutant with elemental manipulation powers.

a/n: this goes out to the three erik/magneto fans that will read this 🤧 i don't have high hopes for this but i still thought i'd give sharing it a shot. very well may end up deleting it but we will see lol

warnings/tags: a little bit of angst but mostly fluff! kissing, suggestiveness, implied smut but nothing graphic

You just keep me coming back

Something about how opposites attract

You hold me down

I'm in it for real

Love me, leave me high and dry

I'm back in your arms and I don't know why

I can't get around your magnetic field

- magnetic field by lights

It's just past dusk on a Sunday evening when he shows up on your doorstep with drenched clothes and dripping wet hair.

You knew that you were bound to see him again one day. You just didn't expect it to be here, or quite this soon.

“What are you doing here, Erik?”

You cross your arms and lean against the frame of your small cabin's front door, wrapping your cardigan tighter around yourself as you take in his appearance.

It had only been a few months since you had last seen him in D.C., but those few months had taken their toll on him. Dark circles encase his eyes that appear almost hollow.

“It always seems to rain when you're feeling particularly nervous,” he says with a half smirk. Thunder booms from above as rain beats down harder on the tin roof of your porch.

“It's Oregon,” you shrug. You concentrate on keeping your voice even. “It's rained for the last five days.”

He's not wrong. You do tend to subconsciously make it rain when you're nervous.

He chuckles under his breath, taking a step closer to you. Your breath catches in your throat.

“Do you really have to ask why I'm here?”

Now it's you who avoids his question. You have your hopes as to why he's here, but you can't bring yourself to feed into them. Not after all this time - after years of trying to move on while he was imprisoned, followed by a brief reunion during the events of Paris and D.C. that left your heart shattered all over again just a few months ago.

Can you really let yourself believe that he's simply here for you?

You raise a single hand to the side of his neck, your palm caressing the wet skin of his throat. His eyes narrow but he doesn't flinch away, only watches you curiously.

A second later, his previously soaked clothes and sopping wet hair are completely dry. He glances down, realizing what you did as you reluctantly pull your hand away from his skin. You think maybe - just maybe - a hint of disappointment flashes through his eyes at the loss of contact.

“Can't have you dripping all over my carpet,” you sigh, turning to retreat back into the house. You hear the front door click shut and you know that he's followed your lead inside.

“So, why Oregon?” He asks hesitantly as he slips his coat off and hangs it on a hook in the foyer. You turn to find him taking in the appearance of the place you've been trying to call home for the last few months. His eyes skim over the piles of books scattered throughout the small living room, and then to the bouquet of wilted zinnias on your dining room table that you had picked in hopes of making the bland space feel more lively.

“I'll answer your questions if you answer mine,” you offer, leaning against the edge of your kitchen counter. He walks to the dining room table a few feet away from you and pulls out a chair, taking a seat in front of where you stand.

“That sounds fair enough to me, darling.”

Your heart skips a beat at the familiar pet name. It feels as if it's been a lifetime since you've heard him call you that.

“I came here once as a kid,” you answer simply. “After what happened a few months ago, I couldn't bring myself to go back to New York. Charles, the mansion.. everything reminded me of you. I just needed to get away for a while.

He looks down at his lap, unable to hold your gaze. “I have so many regre–”

“Your turn,” you interrupt as you turn to the cabinet behind you. You rummage through it, gathering a tea kettle and a mug.

You aren't ready to hear his apologies. As badly as your heart has wanted to hear that he's sorry for so long, to hear him say that he regrets ever doing anything to jeopardize what the two of you had - you don't trust yourself to not crumble into a million pieces at those words now that he's sitting in your kitchen.

“How did you find me?” You ask without looking back at him. You fill the kettle with water, and bring it to a boil in seconds with the snap of your fingers.

“I'll tell you,” he says over the sharp whistle of the kettle. “But you can't laugh at me.”

You snort, pouring the boiling water over an earl grey tea bag as you try to ignore the swell of bitterness in your chest at the nostalgia of it. Memories of this exact scenario in a different time and place flash through your mind - a happier, more innocent time and place. You carry the mug over to where he sits and place it in front of him before pulling out the chair next to him.

You hold out your pinky towards him, elbow on the dining room table. He cocks an eyebrow at you.

“I pinky promise that I won't laugh at you,” you say, little finger still extended. He leans forward, lips forming a smirk as he wraps his pinky around yours. His skin is every bit as soft and warm as you remember it being and you dread the moment that he pulls away.

“I went to the mansion,” he answers with his finger still secured around yours. “I snuck into Charles’ study when no one was home and found some letters you had written to him. I saw the return address on the envelope.”

“Huh,” you muse. “I guess I see why you made me promise not to laugh.” You're not sure what you were expecting his answer to be, but you didn’t think it would be quite so… human.

“Your turn to answer a question, darling.”

Your only response is a small nod.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” you answer, perhaps a bit too quickly. “I don’t.”

His posture slackens, relief taking over his features. He leans over to where your fingers are intertwined, and presses his lips to the side of your pinky finger. It has been years since his lips have touched your skin, but you melt at the familiar warmth all the same.

“Good,” he sighs in relief. His breath fans over your skin, leaving a visible trail of goosebumps over your hand. “I do not intend to leave unless you order me away.”

Your eyes burn with tears that threaten to spill over. His sudden appearance, his words, his mere presence after so much time apart is overwhelming. Despite it all, you can’t bring yourself to care about the reasons why you’ve had to spend so much time apart.

He’s here, and that’s enough for you. Everything else can be addressed in time.

You bring your free hand to his face, cupping his jawline in your palm. Your thumb skims over the stubble that graces his cheeks.

“What do we do now?” you wonder aloud. His pale eyes crinkle as he gives you the first smile that you’ve seen from him in years.

“We try to make up for lost time.”

••••••

You heat him some leftovers from the dinner you had made for yourself not long before his arrival, a bowl of chicken noodle soup and homemade bread. He scarfs the food and the tea that you'd made for him down within minutes, and then retreats to your cabin’s small bathroom to rinse off the last few days of cross-country travel. He had brought a singular duffel bag that now rests on the foot of your bed - which just so happens to be the only bed in the house, seeing as how it's a one bedroom and you live here alone.

Butterflies fill your belly at the implication. There was once a time where it never would have been a question - of course the two of you would have shared the only bed in the house. Now, doing so could very well mean diving back in too quickly and ending up broken all over again.

But then again, didn't that become a possibility the second that you opened your door to find him on your porch?

“What’s on your mind?” His soft voice sounds from behind you. You had been so lost in thought that you didn't hear him exit the bathroom and wander back down the hallway.

You turn to find him leaning against your bedroom door frame, wearing only a towel that hangs loosely from his hips. His chestnut hair still drips wet.

Your eyes flicker between him and the spare quilt that you have piled in your arms.

“You can sleep in here,” you tell him with a nod towards the bed that you'd just put a set of fresh sheets on. “I'll take the couch.”

He chuckles lowly, standing up straight as you walk towards the door, blocking your exit.

“Don't be silly. I'm not going to kick you out of your bed in your own home,” he tells you in a gentle but firm tone.

“You're not kicking me out of my bed,” you assure him. “I'm offering it to you.”

Your cheeks warm under his gaze that you struggle to hold - your eyes threatening to wander down the expanse of his chest with the rise and fall of each breath that he takes.

“It's loads comfier that whatever cot that you were sleeping on in prison, I promise,” you jab at him lightly when he doesn't respond.

He hums in consideration, taking a step closer to you.

“It's not the cot that I minded so much while I was in prison. It's the fact that any bed without you in it feels empty.”

A clap of thunder booms in the distance at the same time that your heart skips a beat.

“I'm not expecting anything to happen, darling,” he assures you lightly. “We don't even have to touch. After so much time apart, I just want to be next to you.”

You exhale a breath that you didn't realize you had been holding in, and place the quilt in your arms on the dresser right next to you.

“Don't be silly,” you repeat his sentiment from just moments ago. You take a step closer to him, now able to smell hints of Old Spice soap from his shower. “Of course you can touch me. If that's what you want.”

“If that's what I want?” He scoffs softly, inching towards you. You place your hands on his hips, walking backwards until your thighs brush against the edge of your mattress. You're lodged between him and the bed, his bare chest practically brushing against yours.

“As if I’d ever not want that.”

He raises his hands to each side of your face and tilts your head up to look at him. His thumb massages over the swell of your bottom lip, his eyes locked on your mouth.

“Erik,” you breathe, and before you can get out another word, his lips are slated over yours. You pull him flush against you by your hold on his waist.

When you close your eyes and focus solely on the feeling of his mouth moving in synchrony with yours, you forget where you're at and everything that's happened over the course of the last decade. In this moment, you're not in a run down cabin in the middle of nowhere Oregon - you're in the courtyard of the mansion and he's kissing you for the very first time.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers against your mouth when he pulls away. You raise up on your toes, pressing your lips against his one more time before pulling back to stare up at him with a smirk. You sit down on the edge of the mattress and scoot back, pulling him down with you.

“Then let's make up for lost time.”

You don’t notice it until you're drifting to sleep in each other's arms hours later, but the thunderstorm that had been raging upon his arrival had slowed to a silent, peaceful mist.

thank you for reading ♡ comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every life ࿐‧₊ house of m - bittersweet

chapter summary: Logan wakes up in a distorted reality created by Wanda. Everything is far too perfect, including the fact you're alive and well.

word count: 9.5k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: so this series, i love you, in every life, are all mainly oneshots of the lives you and logan have in the multiverse. unless i specify, they all are oneshots!

anyways, i wanted to do something a little different and this was actually my first idea for the multiverse concept between logan and reader. enjoy!

and, an extra note, thank y'all so much for 1k followers! i've truly had the most fun writing these stories and hearing your feedback!

warnings/tags: loosely based on 'house of m' story-line, mentioned heart problems, mentioned cardiac arrest, mentioned character death, not proofread

series masterlist

The early morning light filtered through the tall windows of the Xavier Academy. Logan sat up in bed, the tangled sheets barely covering the muscles of his broad chest. The warm smell of coffee and freshly baked bread wafted in from the kitchen. For a moment, he let himself linger, staring at the peaceful room.

It felt wrong.

The woman standing at the counter—you—shouldn’t have been here. Your laugh as you scolded the toaster for burning the bread shouldn’t have existed. And yet, it did.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you said, your voice soft but teasing. You turned, a mug in hand, wearing one of his old flannel shirts that hung loosely over your frame. “Didn’t think you’d ever wake up. I was about to eat breakfast without you.”

Logan grunted, “maybe you should’ve.”

“Grumpy already?” You set the mug on the table near him. “You didn’t even try the coffee yet.”

He took the mug but didn’t drink. Instead, he studied your face—so familiar, so perfect. Your hair was tousled from sleep, your smile easy, as though you didn’t carry the weight of a dozen deaths. You didn’t remember them, but he did. And yet, you looked at him like you always had in those other lives, with affection, curiosity, and warmth.

“What?” you asked, tilting her head.

Logan shook his head and finally took a sip. “Nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. It was everything.

---

Later that day, Logan stood outside the academy’s training grounds, watching students practice their powers under your guidance. You stood at the center of the group, gesturing with animated hands as you instructed a young telekinetic mutant on control.

“That’s it,” you encouraged, your voice carrying over the field. “Focus on the edges of what you can feel, not just the center. You’ll find more strength there.”

The student grinned as a boulder hovered unsteadily in the air, then dropped it with a soft thud.

“Good! You’re getting it!” you cheered, clapping your hands.

Logan couldn’t take his eyes off you. It wasn’t just the joy you exuded or the way you brought out the best in people. It was the fact that you seemed to belong here, as if this world had always been yours.

Except it hadn’t.

He leaned against the railing, lighting a cigar as Magneto’s words from yesterday echoed in his mind: “A world where mutants thrive is a world where we all belong, Logan. Why fight against it?”

But Logan knew better. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t real. And he was starting to think the cracks in this illusion were beginning to show.

Logan stubbed his cigar out on the metal railing, his jaw tight. Watching you laugh with the students made his chest ache in a way he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen that smile, those bright eyes so full of life, but it still hit him like a gut punch.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

He crossed the field to where you stood, finishing up with the young telekinetic. The boulder wobbled again before thudding to the ground, earning a small cheer from the group.

“Take five, guys,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “But don’t wander too far—we’re not done yet.”

The students scattered, leaving you alone with Logan as he approached. You tilted your head, giving him a curious look.

“What’s up, honey?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Logan’s lips twitched at the nickname. You’d called him that in another life, a long time ago—at least that’s what it felt like. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, trying to find the right words, but everything felt too big to say out loud.

“You’re good with them,” he finally said, nodding toward the students.

Your smile grew, soft and pleased. “They’re easy to work with. Just need someone to believe in them.” You stepped closer, tilting your head to study him. “What’s really on your mind, Logan? You’ve been watching me like I’ve got a third eye.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re not wrong.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Logan looked away, his gaze falling on the boulder the kid had been lifting. “This place,” he said after a beat. “Feels too good to be true, don’t it?”

You frowned, stepping closer so you could look up at him. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the field, the academy, and then to you. “All of it.”

Your brows knit together, and your voice softened. “Logan, what’s going on? You’ve been acting... off.”

Logan’s eyes snapped back to yours. He wanted to tell you everything—to unload the weight he carried, to make you understand that none of this was what it seemed. But how could he, when you were at the center of it all?

“I’m fine,” he said gruffly, turning to walk away.

You grabbed his arm, your touch grounding him. “Don’t do that,” you said. “Don’t shut me out. Not after everything.”

Logan froze. The sincerity in your voice cut through him like a knife. He turned back to face you, his eyes searching yours. “After everything, huh?” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “You don’t even know the half of it, darlin’.”

You blinked, startled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of Magneto’s voice interrupted him.

“Logan,” Erik called from across the yard, his tone calm but commanding. “A word.”

Logan clenched his jaw, then glanced back at you. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Logan—”

But he was already walking away.

---

Inside the academy’s briefing room, Logan leaned against the wall, arms crossed as Magneto stood at the head of the table.

“You’ve been restless,” Erik said, watching him closely.

Logan snorted. “Restless? That what you’re callin’ it?”

Erik’s gaze didn’t waver. “I know what you’re thinking. That this world isn’t real. That it’s an illusion.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re okay with that?”

“I am,” Erik said simply. “Because it’s a better world. A world where mutants thrive, where humans no longer threaten us, and where the people we love are alive.”

Logan’s chest tightened. “It ain’t real, Erik. None of it is. And when it all comes crashin’ down, what then?”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Erik said. “But you? You’re torn. I see the way you look at her, Logan. Y/N’s alive here. Isn’t that enough?”

Logan pushed off the wall, his fists clenched. “You think I don’t want this to be real? You think I don’t wanna believe that she’s really here, laughin’ and smilin’ like she used to?” He shook his head, his voice dropping. “But it ain’t real. And if I let myself believe it is... I lose her all over again.”

Erik’s expression softened, just slightly. “Sometimes, Logan, the illusion is better than the truth.”

“Not for me,” Logan growled, turning on his heel and storming out.

---

You found Logan later that night in the library, nursing a drink and staring out the window. The moonlight cast a faint glow over his rugged features, and he looked older, more tired than usual.

“Didn’t think you were the library type,” you said, leaning against the doorframe.

He didn’t turn around. “Couldn’t sleep.”

You stepped closer, sliding into the chair across from him. “Wanna talk about it?”

Logan glanced at you, his eyes dark and unreadable. “You ever feel like somethin’ ain’t right, but you can’t put your finger on it?”

You frowned, leaning forward. “Sometimes. Why?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “This world... It’s too perfect, Y/N. Too... clean. Like it’s all been stitched together from pieces that don’t quite fit.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “What are you saying, Logan?”

“I’m sayin’...” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to his drink. “I’m sayin’ I don’t think this is real. Any of it.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Logan, that’s... That’s a lot to drop on…” You trailed off, almost like someone cut off your train of thought and replaced it with a new one. “But if things are better now, isn’t that good?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he leaned back in his chair, swirling the liquid in his glass. His gaze didn’t leave yours, but his expression hardened, like he was fighting to keep something buried.

“Good for who, darlin’?” His voice was low, rough, and filled with a tension that made your stomach twist.

You frowned. “For us. For the kids. For everyone.” You gestured vaguely toward the window. “Logan, this—whatever it is—it’s not perfect, but it’s better than what we’ve had before, isn’t it? You’re not running. I’m not… gone.”

His hand froze mid-motion, the glass hovering just shy of his lips. He set it down carefully, his movements deliberate, like he was holding himself back.

“That’s the problem,” he said, voice quieter now but no less intense. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You blinked, confusion knitting your brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He hesitated, his fingers curling into a fist on the table. “You don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what?”

Logan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at you like you held all the answers to questions he was too afraid to ask. His voice softened, tinged with something that sounded almost like guilt.

“You died,” he said, the words landing heavy between you.

Your breath caught, the room seeming to close in around you. “Logan…”

“I saw it,” he continued, his voice rough and unsteady. “You had a heart attack. Dropped dead to the ground and only survived because Jean did chest compressions until the ambulance came. You were only in the hospital for two hours before you had another one. They said it was an undiagnosed hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.”

Logan’s voice cracked slightly as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze locked on you. “You were too damn young for somethin’ like that.” His knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the table. “One minute, we were talkin’ about dinner plans, and the next... you were gone.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. “Logan, I—” You stopped, searching his face for something, anything that would make sense of what he was saying. “That doesn’t make any sense. I’m here. I’m fine.”

He exhaled sharply, the sound almost a growl. “That’s what’s wrong with all this, darlin’. You’re here, smilin’, laughin’—but you’re not supposed to be. You died.” His voice softened, but it didn’t lose its edge. “And now you’re here, like it never happened.”

You blinked, trying to process what he was saying. “I don’t—Logan, do you hear yourself? That’s insane.” You rubbed at your temples, a headache creeping in. “I didn’t die. I’d remember if something like that happened.”

He let out a bitter laugh, the sound low and filled with frustration. “That’s just it. You don’t remember because this place—it’s not real.”

You froze, your hand dropping to the table. “What are you talking about?”

Logan leaned forward again, his hands clenched into fists on the table. “Wanda,” he said, his voice rough. “She made this... world. A perfect little picture where everyone’s happy, where the people we lost are back.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. “Wanda? What does she have to do with this?”

“She’s the reason you’re here, sweetheart,” Logan said, his gaze unwavering. “She did this for her own reasons, but you—she brought you back too.”

You shook your head, standing up abruptly. “No. That doesn’t make sense. Why would Wanda do something like that? And why... why me?”

Logan’s jaw tightened as he stood, his height and presence suddenly overwhelming. “Because she cared about you. She couldn’t stand what happened. Hell, I couldn’t stand it either.” His voice softened, and he took a step closer. “But it ain’t real, Y/N. No matter how much I want it to be.”

You stepped back, your pulse pounding in your ears. “You’re saying this—me being here—is some kind of... illusion? Like I’m not even real?”

“No,” Logan said quickly, his voice firm. “You’re real, darlin’. But this world? It ain’t. It’s Wanda’s doin’. She twisted everything to give us what we wanted.” He paused, his expression conflicted. “And I’m guessin’ she thought I wanted you.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “And do you? Want me here, I mean?”

Logan’s expression softened, the hard lines of his face easing as he stepped closer. “You think I’d ever not want you here?” His voice was low, rough with emotion. “Every time I lost you, it felt like I lost a part of myself. You think I don’t want this? That I don’t want to wake up every damn day and see you smilin’ at me?”

Your breath caught as he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. The warmth of his touch was grounding, even as everything else spun out of control.

“But it ain’t real,” he continued, his voice heavy with regret. “And if I start believin’ it is... I’ll lose you all over again when it falls apart.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “Logan, if this isn’t real, then... what happens to me?”

He flinched, the question hitting him like a punch to the gut. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’ll be damned if I let it happen without a fight.”

You closed your eyes, trying to steady yourself. The room felt too small, too overwhelming. “I need... I need to think,” you said, stepping back.

Logan let you go, his hand falling to his side. “Take all the time you need, darlin’,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “Just don’t forget—no matter what happens, I’m here. Always.”

You nodded, your throat too tight to respond, and turned to leave. But as you walked away, his words echoed in your mind, filling the silence with a truth you weren’t sure you were ready to face.

---

You found Wanda standing by the edge of the mansion’s sprawling grounds, her gaze distant as if she were watching something far beyond what anyone else could see. Her crimson coat fluttered lightly in the breeze, and the energy around her felt heavier than usual—a tension you couldn’t quite place.

“Wanda?” you called, your voice trembling slightly.

She turned, her expression calm but with a faint shadow behind her eyes. “Hey,” she greeted softly. “You okay?”

You took a deep breath and stepped closer, trying to steady your racing thoughts. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “Something feels... off. I mean, this place—everything—it’s almost too perfect, you know?”

Wanda’s lips quirked into a small, unreadable smile. “Too perfect? That’s not something I hear often.”

You hesitated, unsure how to put your swirling thoughts into words. “Logan said something. He said—” You stopped, your voice faltering as her gaze locked onto yours.

“What did Logan say?” she asked, her tone calm but carrying an undercurrent of something sharper.

“That this... all of this... isn’t real,” you said slowly, watching her reaction. “He thinks you... made it all up. That you brought me back somehow. Is that true?”

Wanda’s expression softened, her eyes filled with something like sorrow. “Y/N, why would he say something like that? You’re here. You’re alive. Isn’t that what matters?”

“That’s not an answer,” you countered, stepping closer. “Wanda, please. I need to know. Am I—” Your voice cracked, but you pushed on. “Am I real? Is any of this real?”

For a moment, Wanda’s face flickered with something—guilt, maybe? Or hesitation? Then she reached out, placing her hands gently on your shoulders.

“Y/N,” she said, her voice soft and soothing. “You’re overthinking this. You’ve been through so much; it’s natural to feel... disoriented.”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “This isn’t just me overthinking. Logan said—”

Her eyes glowed faintly red, and the air seemed to hum around you. “Logan’s been through a lot too. Sometimes he... struggles to separate the past from the present.”

Her words made sense—or at least, they should have. But there was a nagging doubt in the back of your mind, a thread you couldn’t quite pull free.

“Wanda, I—”

“Shh,” she murmured, her hands moving to cradle your face. The red glow in her eyes intensified. “You don’t need to worry about this, Y/N. Just... let it go.”

The hum grew louder, and a sudden wave of warmth flooded your mind, like slipping into a deep, dreamless sleep. The doubts, the questions, the gnawing sense of unease—they all seemed to dissolve, leaving behind only a gentle calm.

You blinked, your thoughts fuzzy. “What was I saying?”

Wanda smiled, her hands dropping to her sides. “Nothing important. You’re just tired, that’s all. Why don’t you take a break? Go spend some time with Logan. He’s been worried about you.”

You nodded slowly, the lingering haze in your mind making it hard to argue. “Yeah... maybe you’re right.”

Wanda watched you walk away, her expression unreadable as she turned back to the horizon. The faint glow in her eyes dimmed, and the breeze carried a whisper of her voice, too soft for anyone to hear.

“I’m sorry.”

---

From the shadows, Logan watched as you disappeared into the mansion. His jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. He’d seen Wanda’s subtle hand movements, the faint glimmer of red that surrounded you as she spoke.

“She took it outta her head,” Logan muttered to himself, his voice rough with anger. “Dammit, Wanda.”

The truth hadn’t just been hidden—it had been stolen from you. And Logan knew he’d have to find a way to get it back.

---

Logan leaned against the doorway of your shared room, arms crossed tightly over his chest. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow over you as you flipped through a magazine, completely at ease. Your relaxed posture, your soft smile—it all seemed so real. But Logan knew better.

You glanced up, your eyes lighting up when you saw him. “Hey,” you greeted, setting the magazine aside. “How long have you been lurking there?”

“Long enough,” Logan said, his voice rough but tinged with affection. He walked in, pulling the chair from the corner and spinning it around to sit backward, arms resting on the backrest. “We need to talk, darlin’.”

The tone of his voice caught your attention, and you straightened slightly. “That sounds serious. What’s going on?”

He took a deep breath, his gaze meeting yours. “It’s about Wanda. About all of this.”

You frowned, tilting your head. “What about Wanda?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and his fists clenched against the chair. “This... this world we’re livin’ in? It ain’t real. She made it.”

Your brows furrowed, and you leaned forward, confusion flickering in your eyes. “Logan, what are you talking about? Of course, it’s real. We’re here. We’re together.”

“That’s the problem,” he said, his voice heavy. “It’s too perfect. Think about it. The mansion’s in one piece. No one’s fightin’. You’re here. Alive.”

You blinked, the weight of his words hitting you like a sudden gust of wind. “What do you mean, I’m alive? Why wouldn’t I be?”

Logan hesitated, the memory of losing you—your last breath, the stillness that followed—flashing behind his eyes. He rubbed a hand over his face, sighing. “You don’t remember, do you? We had this conversation a few hours ago. You died, a few months ago.”

You stared at him, your voice steady but softer than usual. “Even if it’s not real, why can’t you just accept it?”

Logan’s brow furrowed, his jaw tightening as he leaned forward in his chair. “Because it ain’t real, darlin’. You know me. I don’t do ‘perfect.’ This—” he gestured vaguely, his fingers flexing—“this whole thing? It’s like livin’ in a dream, but dreams don’t last. They break. And when this one does...” He trailed off, his throat working around unspoken words.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to break,” you said quietly, your eyes locked on his. “Maybe we could just let it be.”

“That’s not how it works, sweetheart,” Logan said, shaking his head. His voice was rough, the weight of years pressing down on each word. “I’ve seen too much, lost too much, to believe in fairy tales. And this? This is Wanda’s doing. It ain’t right.”

You exhaled slowly, sitting back on the bed. “Logan, why does it matter if it’s real or not? If it feels real—if we’re together, happy—why can’t that be enough for you?”

Logan let out a sharp breath, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Because you died, Y/N,” he snapped, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I held you, felt your heartbeat stop. I buried you, darlin’. That’s real. That’s what I remember.”

The room fell silent except for the faint hum of the lamp. You looked at him, your expression unreadable, before speaking softly. “And now I’m here.”

“That ain’t how it works!” Logan growled, his voice rising before he caught himself. He ran a hand through his hair, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he tried to rein in his frustration. “People don’t just come back. Not like this. You know it, Wanda knows it, and—dammit—you should know it too.”

“I know you’re hurting,” you said, leaning forward and placing a hand on his arm. “But what if this was her way of fixin’ things? Of givin’ us another chance?”

Logan stared at your hand on his arm, his jaw clenching tightly. “She didn’t ‘fix’ anything,” he said after a long pause, his voice low. “She twisted it. Made somethin’ up ‘cause she couldn’t face the truth. That’s not the same.”

“And what’s the truth, Logan?” you challenged, your voice firm but still gentle. “That I’m gone? That you’re supposed to just keep going, living in that pain forever? What’s wrong with her wantin’ to take some of that away?”

Logan’s eyes flicked to yours, a storm brewing behind them. “It ain’t about me, darlin’. It’s about you. She’s playin’ with your life like it’s a toy, like it’s somethin’ she can rewrite when she feels like it.”

You hesitated, your grip on his arm tightening slightly. “If I’m here now—if I get to wake up every day and see you, talk to you, love you—then maybe it’s worth it.”

He stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. “You don’t understand,” he said, pacing a few steps before turning back to face you. “When this falls apart—and it will—it’s gonna tear us both to pieces. Again.”

“Maybe it won’t,” you countered, standing to meet his gaze. “Maybe it can last.”

Logan scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause she made sure you’d believe it.”

“Or maybe,” you said, your voice rising slightly, “I’m sayin’ it ‘cause I want to believe it. Because I choose to.”

The weight of your words hung between you, the space between you both charged with unspoken emotions. Logan’s fists clenched at his sides, his chest heaving as he stared at you.

“You really think this is what you want?” he asked, his tone softer but still laced with frustration. “To live in somethin’ that ain’t real, just ‘cause it feels good?”

“Yes,” you said simply, your voice unwavering. “Because being with you? It feels right.”

Logan closed his eyes for a moment, his shoulders slumping slightly. When he looked at you again, there was something raw and vulnerable in his gaze. “You deserve better than some fake life, Y/N. You deserve somethin’ real.”

You stepped closer, placing your hand on his cheek. He didn’t pull away. “And maybe, for me, this is real. You’re here. I’m here. That’s all I need.”

His hand came up to cover yours, his calloused fingers rough against your skin. “Darlin’,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly, “if I lose you again...”

“You won’t,” you whispered, your thumb brushing his cheek. “I’m here, Logan. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

He didn’t respond, just pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if you might disappear at any moment. The warmth of his embrace was familiar, comforting, and for a moment, it felt like maybe you could convince him. Maybe you could make him believe.

But deep down, you knew Logan’s grip on reality was stronger than your faith in this world.

---

“Hey! I was gonna ask you to explain quantum—” Peter cut himself off from his excited question, only to quickly turn his head behind him like he sensed something.

“Peter?” you asked, tilting your head as you watched him freeze mid-step. “Everything alright?”

Peter blinked rapidly, his usual boyish energy dimmed as his gaze darted between you and the empty hallway behind him. He scratched the back of his neck, forcing a sheepish smile. “Yeah, yeah. Totally fine. Just thought I heard something, but, uh, guess it was nothing. Mansion’s old, you know? Creaky floors and all that.”

You narrowed your eyes, not quite buying his excuse. “Since when do creaky floors freak you out? You’re Spider-Man, Peter.”

He laughed nervously, adjusting the strap of his backpack. “True, but, you know, sometimes even Spider-Men get spooked by weird noises. Occupational hazard.”

“Uh-huh,” you replied, crossing your arms. “What were you gonna ask me before you got distracted?”

“Oh, right!” Peter brightened slightly, though there was still a flicker of unease in his expression. “I was gonna ask if you could explain quantum entanglement again. I swear, I’ve read about it like a million times, but my brain just refuses to cooperate.”

Before you could answer, Logan’s voice echoed from down the hallway. “Parker. Got a minute?”

Peter turned, relief flashing across his face like Logan had just handed him a lifeline. “Uh, yeah! Sure thing, Mr. Logan. I mean, Logan. I mean, uh—”

“Just get over here,” Logan said gruffly, jerking his head toward the corner.

You frowned as Peter shot you a quick, apologetic grin before hurrying off to join Logan. Something about the exchange felt... off. Logan had been acting strange ever since your conversation earlier, and now Peter seemed jittery too.

“Logan?” you called after them, but neither turned back.

Curiosity gnawed at you as you debated whether to follow. Ultimately, you decided to let it go—for now. Whatever they were discussing, it could wait.

---

“What’s goin’ on, kid?” Logan asked, his tone low as Peter reached him. He glanced over Peter’s shoulder to make sure you hadn’t followed.

Peter shifted uncomfortably, his usual confidence faltering under Logan’s intense gaze. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding... crazy, but—does something feel... wrong to you? Like, about all of this?”

Logan crossed his arms, his expression hardening. “You pickin’ up on that too?”

“Yeah,” Peter admitted. “I mean, I wasn’t gonna say anything because it’s, like, Wanda. And she’s scary enough when she’s not messing with reality, but now... I don’t know, man. It’s like I can feel the edges of it. Like it’s all just... holding together by duct tape or something.”

Logan nodded slowly. “You’re not wrong. This whole thing—it ain’t real. It’s Wanda’s doin’. She created all this.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “So, what do we do? I mean, if it’s not real, we can’t just—”

“We’re not doin’ anything yet,” Logan interrupted, his voice firm. “First, we gotta figure out how deep this goes. She’s got Y/N wrapped up in it, convinced it’s all sunshine and rainbows.”

Peter’s face fell. “Does Y/N know?”

Logan let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. “She knows what I told her, but Wanda’s got her so tied up in this illusion, she doesn’t wanna believe it. Thinks maybe this is better than the real thing.”

Peter hesitated, glancing back toward the direction you’d gone. “Do you think she’s right? About it being better, I mean.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his voice dropping to a near growl. “No. ‘Cause when this all comes crashin’ down, it’ll hurt her worse than losin’ it the first time. And I’m not lettin’ that happen.”

Peter nodded, his usual quips forgotten in the weight of the moment. “Alright. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“For now? Keep this between us,” Logan said. “And keep an eye on her. If Wanda tries to mess with her head again, you let me know.”

“You got it,” Peter said, his tone more serious than Logan was used to hearing.

Logan clapped a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “Good. Now get outta here before she gets suspicious.”

Peter gave a quick salute and took off down the hallway, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts.

---

When Logan finally made his way back to your shared room, he found you sitting on the edge of the bed, your arms wrapped around your knees. You looked up as he entered, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Hey. What was that about with Peter?”

“Kid just had some questions,” Logan said, brushing off the topic as he closed the door behind him.

“Uh-huh,” you said, your tone skeptical. “And you couldn’t have answered them in front of me because...?”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair as he moved to sit beside you on the bed. “It wasn’t anything important, sweetheart. Just somethin’ about training.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze searching his face. “You’ve been acting weird ever since we talked about Wanda earlier. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Logan hesitated, his instincts warring with his desire to protect you. Finally, he let out a heavy breath. “Darlin’, I told you everything I know. This ain’t real. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop tryin’ to keep you safe.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “I’m not scared, Logan. Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out together. Okay?”

He looked at you, his heart aching with the weight of everything he couldn’t say. Instead, he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, okay,” he murmured.

But deep down, he knew the fight was far from over.

---

The illusion Wanda created was starting to fracture, but only those closest to her could see it. To everyone else, it was as if the world had always been this way—serene, idyllic, perfect. For Logan, it was anything but. He watched carefully, taking note of small inconsistencies no one else seemed to notice: the same bird flying in the same pattern every morning, children laughing at nothing, and the way the sun never seemed to fully set, as though Wanda didn’t have the energy to finish the day.

He wasn’t the only one noticing. Erik, though far subtler in his observations, had begun pulling Wanda aside more often, his sharp gaze never leaving her. Meanwhile, the Avengers who were scattered across this fabricated utopia seemed to be... different. Thor had grown quieter, almost distant, his booming laugh no longer ringing through the mansion. Natasha occasionally paused mid-conversation, her expression going blank for a moment before she’d snap back to herself. Steve? He smiled too much, too wide, like he was trying to convince himself this world was real.

But for you, things had only grown more complicated.

---

The evening light filtered through the mansion's wide windows, painting everything in golden hues. You sat on the couch, flipping through an old book. Logan entered, his steps heavy, his expression unreadable. You glanced up, offering him a soft smile.

“Hey, darlin’,” he said, his voice low as he settled beside you.

“Hey yourself,” you replied, setting the book down. “Rough day?”

“You could say that.” He hesitated, his gaze drifting toward the window. “You ever feel like somethin’ ain’t right? Like... this place, this whole damn thing, is holdin’ its breath?”

You frowned. “Logan, we’ve talked about this. I know you’re still adjusting—”

“Adjustin’?” he cut in, his tone sharper than he intended. “This ain’t about me. It’s about you. About what’s real and what ain’t.”

You stiffened slightly, your heart sinking. “Logan, we’ve been through this. I am real. I don’t know why you keep doubting that.”

“Because this world ain’t real, sweetheart,” he said, his frustration clear. “It’s Wanda’s doin’. And I think, deep down, you know that too.”

You shook your head, your voice rising slightly. “So what, you think I’m just... some figment of her imagination? That I’m not really here?”

“I think she brought you back,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto yours. “But not like you think. And now it’s all startin’ to fall apart.”

You wanted to argue, to insist that he was wrong, but his words planted a seed of doubt that you couldn’t shake. “If this world is falling apart,” you said carefully, “then why are we still here? Why is Wanda still holding it together?”

“Maybe she’s tryin’ to keep you,” he replied. “Maybe you’re the reason she did all this in the first place.”

The air between you grew heavy, and for the first time, you found yourself unable to meet his gaze.

---

Elsewhere in the mansion, the cracks in reality were becoming impossible to ignore.

In the kitchen, Storm froze mid-motion, a glass slipping from her hand and shattering on the floor. She blinked rapidly, confusion washing over her face. “Where... where am I?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Tony Stark stood in the hallway, staring at a photo on the wall. In it, he stood beside Steve, Thor, and Natasha, all of them smiling. But the faces in the photo shifted subtly, warping into something unrecognizable before snapping back to normal. “Friday,” he murmured, though his AI didn’t respond. “What the hell is going on?”

And then there was Charles. He sat in his study, his hands pressed to his temples as he tried to focus. “Wanda,” he whispered, his voice strained. “You need to stop this. It’s breaking.”

But Wanda, standing in her room, refused to listen. Her fingers trembled as she clutched a framed photo of you, her lips moving in a silent mantra. “It’s perfect. It has to stay perfect. They deserve this.”

The glow of her magic pulsed erratically around her, and for a moment, the world flickered. The colors dulled, the mansion creaked as if it were alive, and the faint sound of static buzzed in the air.

---

You found Wanda as she exited Billy and Tommy’s shared bedroom, her steps hesitant as she moved down the hall toward the library. Her fingers twitched at her sides, and her expression was distant, like she was lost in a storm of thoughts. You called out to her, your voice firm, cutting through the silence.

“Wanda.”

She froze mid-step, her shoulders tensing before she turned to face you. Her eyes darted to the floor for a moment, then back to you. “Y/N,” she said softly, her voice careful. “What are you doing up? It’s late.”

You crossed your arms, holding your ground. “I could ask you the same thing. What were you doing in the boys’ room?”

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stepped closer, her tone soothing. “I was just checking on them. Making sure they were okay.”

“Don’t,” you said sharply, taking a step back. “Don’t try to brush me off like that. We need to talk.”

“About what?” she asked, though you could see the flicker of apprehension in her eyes. “Is something wrong?”

You clenched your fists at your sides, willing yourself to stay calm. “Logan told me. About all of this. About what you’re doing. And I want the truth, Wanda—not some carefully constructed excuse. No wiping my mind, no distractions. Just tell me.”

Wanda’s lips parted as if to respond, but she faltered, her gaze dropping to the floor again. Her silence was answer enough. You took a shaky breath, pushing past the lump in your throat.

“It’s true, isn’t it? None of this is real.”

“It’s real,” she said quickly, her voice laced with desperation. “It’s real because I made it real. I did this for you, Y/N. For them.” Her hands gestured vaguely toward the hallway, where Billy and Tommy’s room was.

“And Vision,” you added quietly. The name hit her like a slap, and her expression crumpled for a brief moment before she steeled herself again.

“For all of us,” she whispered.

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “No. You didn’t do this for all of us, Wanda. You did this for you. Because you couldn’t let go.”

Her breath hitched, and she took a step closer. “You don’t understand. You—you died, Y/N. Do you remember that? How helpless I felt when you—when I couldn’t—” She broke off, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions.

“I know I died,” you said, your voice steady despite the knot in your stomach. “Logan told me. But that doesn’t justify this.”

“You don’t understand,” she repeated, her tone defensive. “You don’t know what it was like to lose you. To lose them. It was too much, Y/N. I couldn’t—I couldn’t do it.”

Your heart twisted at the pain in her voice, but you refused to let it cloud your judgment. “So you decided to rewrite the world instead? To play god and pull us all into your grief? Wanda, you can’t keep doing this. You’re hurting everyone, including yourself.”

Her hands trembled as she reached for you, but you stepped back again. Her face crumpled, and for the first time, the cracks in her façade were fully visible.

“I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” she admitted, tears welling in her eyes. “I just wanted us to have a chance. To have peace.”

“Then show me,” you said, your voice softer now. “Show me what happened. How I died. I need to see it, Wanda.”

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “No. I can’t do that to you. It’s too much—it’ll hurt you.”

“I don’t care,” you said firmly. “I deserve to know. I need to know.”

Wanda hesitated, her hands clenching at her sides. “Y/N, please—”

“Please, Wanda,” you interrupted, your voice cracking. “If you care about me at all, you’ll show me.”

For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, with a shaky breath, she nodded. “Alright. But... I’m sorry.”

---

You and Logan were eating leftovers that Ororo had made earlier in the day—the two of you had been… preoccupied with something else during dinner time.

“We could go to that Chinese place you’ve been wantin’ to go to.” Logan said.

“After we go to the bookstore?” you asked sweetly, leaning back in your chair. “I want to see if they have that book I’ve been wanting.” You rolled your shoulders again, wincing slightly as a dull ache pulsed between your shoulder blades.

Logan, sitting across the table from you, gave you a look. “Still feelin’ that?” he asked, his tone sharp with concern.

You waved a hand dismissively. “It’s probably just from sitting weird or something. I’ll stretch later—it’ll be fine.”

“Darlin’, you’ve been complainin’ about that for days. And that stomach pain you had last night? Maybe you oughta talk to Jean, just to be safe.”

You sighed, a bit exasperated. “I will, Logan. Tomorrow morning, before we head out, okay?”

He didn’t look entirely convinced, but he gave a short nod. “Good. I ain’t takin’ chances with you.”

You smirked, rising from your chair with your plate in hand. “What, suddenly all cautious? Didn’t seem that way earlier when we were—”

Logan gave a low growl, his expression softening into an amused grin. “Keep talkin’, sweetheart. See where it gets ya.”

You laughed, placing the plate in the sink and rinsing it off. Over your shoulder, you teased, “Maybe I’ll save that for later. You know, give you something to look forward to.”

“You’re somethin’ else,” he muttered, shaking his head, though his lips twitched upward. You could feel his eyes on you as you moved to the fridge and grabbed two beers, popping the caps off on the counter.

“You want your usual toast to Ororo for dinner?” you joked, turning back to him with a beer in hand. “Something like ‘thanks for makin’ us look bad in the kitchen’?”

“Funny,” he deadpanned, reaching for the beer as you handed it to him. “You should quit physics and take up comedy.”

Before you could reply, a wave of dizziness washed over you, sudden and disorienting. Your vision blurred, and the edges of the room seemed to darken. The beer bottle slipped from your grasp, shattering on the floor as you staggered back.

“Y/N?” Logan’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and alarmed.

You tried to steady yourself, but your legs gave out, and you crumpled to the floor. Your chest tightened painfully, the ache between your shoulder blades now radiating outward like fire. You could barely hear Logan as the room tilted further into darkness.

“Jean!” Logan bellowed, his voice raw with panic. He was at your side in an instant, his hands trembling as he tried to rouse you. “Darlin’, stay with me. C’mon, open your eyes!”

Footsteps pounded down the hall, and then Jean and Scott burst into the kitchen. Jean dropped to her knees beside you, her fingers immediately moving to your neck to check for a pulse.

“Her heart’s stopped,” Jean said urgently, already positioning her hands on your chest. She began compressions without hesitation, her movements precise but desperate. “Scott, call 911. Now!”

Scott fumbled for his phone, his usually steady demeanor cracking as he dialed. “We need an ambulance at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. It’s an emergency—cardiac arrest.”

Logan hovered over you, his hands balled into fists as he fought the urge to intervene. “Jean, she—she just dropped. She said her back was hurtin’, her stomach—”

Jean cut him off, her tone firm. “Logan, give me space! Keep talking to her—she might still hear you.”

“Darlin’, you gotta fight this,” Logan rasped, his voice breaking. “You hear me? You ain’t quittin’ on me, not now. Not ever.”

The minutes stretched agonizingly, Jean alternating between compressions and breaths while Scott relayed information to the dispatcher. Finally, you gasped—a ragged, shallow breath that made Jean sit back in relief.

“She’s back,” Jean said, though her voice was tight with worry. “But we need to get her to the hospital. There’s something—”

Before she could finish, the sound of sirens cut through the air, and the paramedics arrived. They worked swiftly, loading you onto a stretcher and carrying you out, Logan never leaving your side until they pushed him back to allow the medics room to work.

At the hospital, hours passed in a tense blur. Jean, Scott, and Logan paced the waiting room, the latter practically wearing a groove into the floor. When a doctor finally emerged, Logan surged forward, his expression dark with worry.

“She’s stable, for now,” the doctor said carefully. “But she experienced a significant cardiac event. We’re running tests, but it appears to be hypertrophic cardiomyopathy—an undiagnosed condition.”

“And what the hell does that mean?” Logan demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

“It means her heart’s working overtime. There’s thickening in the walls, and it likely led to her arrest,” the doctor explained. “She’ll need monitoring and possibly surgery to prevent future complications.”

But you never made it that far. Two hours later, as Logan sat by your side, clutching your hand in his, the monitors began to wail. Your heart stopped again. The staff rushed in, pushing Logan aside as they tried to revive you.

This time, you didn’t come back.

---

Your eyes opened with a sharp gasp, the room spinning as you met Wanda’s tear-streaked face. Her red, glowing irises flickered and dimmed as her powers pulled back, leaving her looking more broken than you’d ever seen her. The weight of what you’d just witnessed crushed your chest—it felt too real, too vivid to be anything but the truth.

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” Wanda whispered, her voice trembling, the Sokovian accent she’d long suppressed slipping through as her emotions bled into every word. Her hands hovered near you, like she wanted to comfort you but didn’t know if she deserved to.

You blinked rapidly, trying to steady your breathing as the memory of your death burned in your mind. The ache between your shoulder blades and the tightness in your chest felt so fresh, so real, it was hard to remember you were sitting in front of Wanda, not in a hospital bed.

But there was no time to focus on yourself. You sat up straighter, your voice trembling but firm. “Wanda, this has to stop.”

She flinched like you’d slapped her. “No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “You don’t mean that. You can’t mean that, Y/N.”

“I do,” you said, meeting her gaze, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I’m dead, Wanda. I died. And nothing you do can change that.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” she insisted, her voice rising, more desperate now. “I fixed it. I brought you back—I brought all of you back. Billy, Tommy, Vision—they’re here, Y/N. We can all be together, like it was supposed to be.”

“Wanda,” you said sharply, cutting her off. “This isn’t real. You didn’t fix anything. You’re just… avoiding it.”

“No!” she cried, her voice cracking. “I gave us a second chance. Isn’t that what you’d want? To see Logan again? To see the boys smiling and safe? Don’t you want this?”

Your heart twisted at the anguish in her words, but you couldn’t let it sway you. “Of course I want that. Of course I want to be with Logan, with all of you. But not like this. Not if it’s a lie.”

She stared at you, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her breathing grew uneven. “Why does it matter if it’s a lie?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “It feels real, doesn’t it? It’s real enough.”

“It matters because it’s hurting you, Wanda,” you said, your voice softening. “And it’s hurting everyone else, too. Logan knows, doesn’t he? And Erik? They’re just as trapped as you are.”

Her lips trembled, and she looked away, unable to meet your eyes. “They don’t understand,” she muttered. “They think they do, but they don’t. Erik has lost people before. Logan… he’s lost you more times than I can count. But it’s different when it’s your children, Y/N. You don’t know what that’s like.”

You hesitated, the weight of her grief pressing down on you. “No,” you admitted quietly. “I don’t. But I know what it’s like to love someone so much it hurts. And I know that love means letting go sometimes, even when it’s the hardest thing in the world.”

Her shoulders shook, and she hugged herself, as though trying to keep from falling apart. “I can’t let go,” she said, her voice so small it was almost swallowed by the silence. “I can’t lose you again. Or them. Or Vision. I can’t.”

“Wanda,” you said, your voice firm but kind. “You already lost us. I’m gone. Vision’s gone. Billy and Tommy… they were never real to begin with.” You reached out, touching her arm gently. “This isn’t peace. This is a prison you built for yourself.”

Her tears fell freely now, and she covered her face with her hands, her sobs shaking her whole body. You stood, closing the distance between you and pulling her into a hug. She stiffened at first, but then she crumpled against you, clutching your shirt like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered brokenly. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” you murmured, stroking her hair gently. “But it’s time to let go. It’s time to set things right.”

She pulled back just enough to look at you, her expression conflicted. “But if I let go… you’ll be gone.”

You smiled sadly, brushing a tear from her cheek. “I’ll always be with you, Wanda. But you have to let me go. You have to let all of us go.”

Her lip quivered, and she nodded slowly, though it looked like it physically hurt her. “I don’t know if I can do it,” she admitted.

“You can,” you said firmly. “You’re stronger than you think.”

Wanda closed her eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. When she opened them, they glowed red again, her powers swirling to life around her. The walls of the room seemed to shift and crack, and the sound of children laughing echoed faintly before fading away.

“I love you, Y/N,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes.

“I love you too,” you replied, squeezing her hand one last time before the world dissolved into light.

---

Logan walked to the library, his heavy boots echoing in the quiet hallways of the mansion. His hands were shoved deep in his jacket pockets, fists clenched tight. He could feel the tension in the air—a crackling weight that made his skin itch. It wasn’t just Wanda’s doing; it was him, too. He couldn’t sit back anymore. Not when he knew what was at stake.

Halfway there, Erik stepped into the hallway, his broad frame blocking Logan’s path. His expression was unreadable, but there was something sharp in his gaze.

“Outta the way, Erik,” Logan growled, his voice low and steady.

“You can’t confront her now,” Erik said, his tone just as calm, but there was a warning there. “It’s too fragile. If you push her too hard, this entire illusion could collapse violently. Do you want to hurt her more than she’s already hurting?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding as he stepped closer. “This illusion is hurtin’ her. Hurtin’ all of us. She’s gotta let it go. You know that as well as I do.”

Erik didn’t move. “And if she can’t? If you force her hand and she snaps? This isn’t just about you or me or even her. Think about the others—Billy, Tommy, Vision. They’re as real to her as the air she breathes.”

Logan’s eyes darkened, a flicker of pain crossing his face. “Don’t think I don’t know that. But I lost her once. Hell, I’ve lost her more times than I can count. I ain’t gonna lose her to some damn fantasy.”

Erik’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping. “She created this because she lost too. She’s clinging to what little she has left. Are you really ready to take it all away?”

Before Logan could respond, the walls around them began to tremble. The faint sound of children laughing echoed through the hallway, followed by a low hum of static. Logan’s sharp eyes flicked around, taking in the cracks spreading along the edges of the illusion.

“Looks like it ain’t up to me anymore,” Logan muttered, his voice grim. He pushed past Erik, who didn’t stop him this time.

As Logan stormed toward the library, the tremors grew stronger. The pristine walls of the mansion shimmered, flickering between their familiar design and something darker, rawer. By the time Logan reached the library doors, he could hear crying and hushed reassurances.

He opened the door to find you and Wanda kneeling on the ground, the former holding onto you tightly as her hands glowed red.

You looked over at Logan as the world around you shimmered red and mouthed “I love you” right before everything went white.

As the shining light faded away, the mansion reappeared around them, quiet and still. Wanda knelt on the floor, her arms outstretched toward the air where you had been moments before. Her hands fell limply through the space, trembling as she stared at the emptiness in front of her. The tears on her cheeks glistened faintly in the flickering light.

Logan stepped into the room, his heavy boots echoing against the hardwood floor. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes dark with fury and heartbreak as he took in the sight of Wanda. She was a shadow of herself—broken, sobbing, and clutching at nothing.

“Wanda,” Logan growled, his voice low and menacing.

She flinched at the sound, her red-glowing eyes darting up to meet his. Her lips trembled, and she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Logan didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance between them in three long strides, his hands grabbing Wanda by the arms and yanking her to her feet. He slammed her back against the nearest bookshelf, the impact shaking loose a few books that thudded to the ground. His claws extended with a sharp snikt, the shining adamantium glinting dangerously as he pressed them to her throat.

“Why?” he snarled, his voice rough and ragged. “Why’d you bring her back, just to tear her away from me again?”

Wanda gasped, her hands coming up instinctively to grip his wrists. “Logan,” she choked out, her voice strained. “I—”

“No,” he snapped, cutting her off. His claws twitched, close enough to graze her skin. “You don’t get to explain it away. You don’t get to justify this. You knew what you were doin’, and you did it anyway.” His voice cracked, the raw pain bleeding through. “You brought her back, Wanda. I saw her. I held her. And now she’s gone again.”

Tears streamed down Wanda’s face as she shook her head frantically. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she whispered. “I just—I couldn’t—”

“Couldn’t what?” Logan barked, his voice rising. “Let go? Face the truth? You think you’re the only one who’s lost her? I’ve been losin’ her for centuries, Wanda. Over and over again. And every goddamn time, it breaks me. But this—” He gestured around the room with his free hand, his claws still hovering at her neck. “This was worse than any of it. This was cruel.”

Wanda sobbed openly now, her body trembling against the bookshelf. “I just wanted to fix it,” she said, her voice cracking. “I wanted us all to have a second chance—Billy, Tommy, Vision… you. I thought if I could bring her back, you’d be happy again. I thought it would make everything right.”

Logan let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and cutting. “Happy? You think this made me happy? Watchin’ her slip away again? Watchin’ her know what was happenin’ and still tryin’ to make you feel better?” His claws retracted suddenly with a metallic hiss, and he stepped back, releasing her roughly.

Wanda sagged against the bookshelf, her hands clutching at her chest as though trying to hold herself together. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this,” she whispered. “I didn’t know it would fall apart.”

“You didn’t think,” Logan spat. “You didn’t care. You were so wrapped up in your own grief, you didn’t stop to think about what it’d do to the rest of us. Erik told me not to push you. Said you’d snap if I did. But guess what, Wanda? You already snapped. And you dragged us all down with you.”

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with desperation. “I just wanted her back,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I wanted all of you back.”

Logan’s face softened slightly, the anger giving way to the raw ache beneath. He sighed, dragging a hand down his face as he tried to steady himself. “I get it,” he said quietly. “More than you know. But what you did—it ain’t right, Wanda. It ain’t real. And it ain’t fair to her or any of us.”

Wanda nodded slowly, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “I’ll fix it,” she said shakily. “I’ll make it right.”

“You better,” Logan said, his voice low and dangerous. He turned on his heel, heading for the door. But before he left, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “One more thing,” he added. “Don’t ever use her like that again. Not for your pain. Not for anything.”

And then he was gone, the echo of his footsteps fading into the silence.

Wanda sank to the floor, wrapping her arms around herself as she sobbed. She had thought she was giving everyone a gift, but now she saw it for what it was—a prison of her own making, one that had only brought more pain.

In the distance, Logan stalked down the hallway, his mind swirling with the memory of your voice, your touch, your final words. I love you.

He clenched his fists, his claws threatening to break through again as he let out a low growl. Wanda might fix the mess she’d made, but nothing would erase the weight of losing you again. Not this time. Not ever.

first, i just wanna say thank you to dr. mike for teaching me that when someone goes into cardiac arrest you should immediately start chest compressions, chest compressions, chest compressions! (iykyk)

also, i know this is not an accurate representation of the 'house of m' storyline, but it's somewhat close? right? anyways, i think the next one of these is gonna be the logan movie, so buckle up!

[princessbutler1316]

Logan: Let's make a deal

Magneto: I'm listening

Logan: You kidnap Professor during the weekend and I got a weekend off with my boyfriend, and Scott already know because he and Jean have a reservation

Magneto: Why would I agree to that?

Logan: Because the Professor was invited to dinner at a politician's house on Saturday, the one who flirted with him last time.

Magneto: I'll be there at four o'clock in the afternoon on Friday.

[hermesserpent-stuff]

more thoughts about creeds intro for brotherhood gambit au

Creed is tired and hungry. He claws his way out of the ditch and snarls a bit to himself. Magneto owes him. Big time. That mission was far more complicated than the man had promised. And he had ended up in a ditch! Dead if not for his powers. Creed had gotten done what he needed to be done. The dried blood is proof of that. 

He starts walking.

And walking.

Walking.

Then Magneto fails to show where they are supposed to meet. Anger flares. He moves on, growling deeply.

Creed stumbles to the building that he knows Magneto had been sending teens. He needs to report in about the last job and recuperate some strength.

He bangs on the door, flicking a bit of mud onto the front stoop. It splashes over the welcome mat. 

The door opens and a teen stares up at him. There is a flash of recognition there. Red eyes widen and then blink.

“Bonjour? Why’s the infamous Sabretooth drippin’ mud on my doorstep?” 

The teen asks, head tilting.

“I'm looking for Magneto. Have some things I need to settle with him.”

The kid hums.

“In. It's cold out here, monsieur. And I got chili on. Come on.”

The kid settles, pulling the door wider. Creed comes in and settles at a table he is lead to. The house smells vague of water damage and cleaning products. The teen putters about the kitchen spooning out a bowl. He glances at Creed and then spoons a second bowl. Both are settled in front of Creed, along with some water. Creed starts eating, ignoring the spoon, simply tilting the bowl into his mouth. The teen settles in a chair opposite.

“‘Neto ain't here. Never comes round. Not regular like anyways. Now, Mystique will be back tonight. She comes by to eat dinner, and leaves if she don't like what I be cookin’.”

The kid scrunches his nose in offense at the last sentence. Creed growls. The teen plops another bowl in front of him. 

“Not Remy's fault our fearless leader hides away all the time. Talk to Mystique. She sees him more often than the rest of us. Now. Imma fill the tub and heat it. You can keep on eatin’ till you're good. Then you gonna take a warm bath and settle in for waitin’.”

Remy says calmly. Creed tilts his head and decides that this is probably his best option.

“Fine.”

“Good. Pots yours. Been told you eat a lot. I'll have to make… somethin’ else for Toad and Blob. They can handle sandwiches for now. I'll go draw the bath monsieur.”

The teen nods to himself and trots off.

Creed feasts, the taste of the food heavenly to his empty gnawing stomach. When he goes upstairs he finds Remy withi his hand in the water reading a text book. The kid looks up at him and shakes out his hand. 

“Its pretty hot now. Pipes don't make no heat so you wont get any more hot water from them. Desole monsieur.”

The kid states and then stands. 

“I dont think any of the clothes in the house gonna fit you. Not that youd wanna wear any teens clothes.”

Remy says with a nose scrunch, looking at the muddly clothes. He then snaps his fingers.

“We do got somethin’! Big ol’ sweater and pants. Ill grab them and trade your stuff so I can clean up your duds.”

“You’re a regular old housewife aren’t you.”

Creed states and Remy rolls his eyes.

“Someone has to ensure the guild’s form of xenia is followed.”

Remy huffs. And then cocks his head to the side.

“And I don't wanna clean up mud from all over the house monsieur. Now! Let's get a movin’!”

Remy claps his hands together and trots out of the room. Creed shifts off the clothes and sinks into the warm water. A sigh comes unbidden from his mouth as he relaxes. He draws the curtain and closes his eyes. He hears Remy renenter and the shifting of cloth. Then the door closes again with a firm click. He slips a little more under the water. After a moment he starts running his hands through his hair. He finds soap that doesn't smell awful and scrubs at the dirt and blood. 

It is a little relaxing to be able to get all the gunk off. When the water get cold he pulls himself out and dries off and slips into the provided clothing. He walks back downstairs and finds Remy facing off with a crouched teen.

“What I tell you about shoes on my counters t’crapaud??! I can't keep cloroxing them. I know that you like jumpin’ up mais, not my counters!!”

Remy rubs at his face looking like a tired mother. The teen looks like he is about to say something when he spots Creed. He jumps up and onto Remy who causally catches him like its nothing.

“AHH! Yo! Whats the kitty doin’ here???!”

Oh. Toad. He had seen him at a fight before. Its one of Magneto’s drafted teens. 

“T’crapaud. Petit brigand, dont be rude! Man’s a guest. Now, scoot. He goin’ to the livin’ room and your gonna wipe down my counters so I can make your dinner.”

Remy gently puts the teen down and shoos him off. Toad looks at Creed with huge eyes and Creed gives a small growl and the kid scampers. Remy turns on a dime, eyes sparking.

“Non! You be a guest and you dont be growlin’ at mon petits. I will extend my hospitality, mais if you gonna spit in the face of it, I will not hesitate to show you how Guild treats enemies invading the house.”

Creed tilts his head and then nods.

“Got it. Won't hurt anyone while here.”

He says with a shrug. He won't promise to grow or hiss. It's his nature. Remy nods and then waves his hand.

“Livin’ room this way. None of the spare rooms are made up yet. I'm workin’ on it. But for tonight you got a couch. Desole.”

“Eh, it's better than a ditch.”

Creed says with a shrug and plops himself down on the couch. He stretches out with a yawn.

“Fair. I'll keep the others outta here. Get some sleep grand chat.”

Remy tosses a blanket over him and Creed blinks.

“Quoi? Need more?”

The kid asks and tosses another blanket over him. Creed lets out a confused murp and Remy walks off. 

--

Creed wakes up several hours later. He can tell that it is past midnight. He gets up and slinks over to the kitchen. Surprisingly he finds Remy there, spreadsheets layed out with assorted bills and coupons strewed about. Remy looks up from the pile and a red flush flickers over his face.

“Oh, ah, sorry. Mystique never came, so I let you sleep.”

Remy has puffy eyes and Creed can smell salt. But there is no tremor from tears in his voice. 

“Gotcha. Got anymore to eat?”

Creed asks and remy breathes.

“No more meat. Chili was the last of the chicken. There is a bone broth, but just some. Id… there wont be anymore meat in the house for a few days at least. Its too expensive.

Creed notes the kid fiddling with the papers and swipes them up.

“Hey!”

“Jesus kid, do you run the whole budget of this joint?”

He asks, looking over the expenditure columns written in freakishly neat hand writing for someone that is definitely not legally able to drink or be this responsible. He sees a few sticknotes penciling in estimated costs for repairs around the house and what priorities things had.

“I-... it started out as just the groceries. Mais I noticed… well, someone has to do it. And Mystique’s to busy bein’ the principal to look after us.”

Creed puts the papers down, thoughts quickly flashing through his head. The kid had treated him better than most strangers ever had or would. And he did eat all the chili on his own, where it could have fed the teens of the house twice over.

“Can you cook animals if they are freshly killed? I like hunting and I like eating.”

The kids eyes have no right looking that hopeful when aimed in his direction.

“Oui! I can cook just about any meat. If you show me how to skin and carve up the stuff I aint dealt with before, this cajun cook anythin’ you drag back!”

Creed hums.

“Yeah. alright. I can show you a few tricks for carving up meat. Ill go hunting tommorrow some time.”

“Maybe a bit later in the day, so its not dead for hours while Im in school? I can give you the schedule!”

The kid looks genuinely excited. Its… novel. Most people got grossed out at the mere thought of him dragging a kill home. But here this kid is, basically begging for it. 

“Yeah. sure. Means I get to sleep more.”

“Oui! Oui! Though, Imma wake you for breakfast. We having pancakes. And coffee. Dont want a guest hungry while Im away.”

[urween]

If Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto was your partner. ENGLISH VERSION french here

note : GN!reader, and some of sub!Erik. English isn't my first language, so tell me if you see mistakes ;)

⚠︎ warnings : sexual aspects (soumission, kink), insecurities, death

1 425 words

Global

he needs physical contact and in any situation. When you go out, he often comes to hug you for no apparent reason, just to feel you against him. In public he must always have his hand on you, whether it's your thigh, your shoulder, your hand, your knee or even just your arm, he must have contact with you. It took you a while to get completely used to his surprise hugs, but now it's even you who will reassure him by taking his hand.

you are a bit like an old couple: you go for a walk in the forest, you sometimes stay a whole week with just the two of you at home, you collect pine cones. But that's how you are, and you love being that way.

you live far from the city, in a forest, and thanks to that you spend a lot of time outside just watching nature live around you.

it was unexpected but you noticed that he had a pretty fresh body. He's not the type to serve as your heater in winter for example, it's rather you who can take this function. On the other hand in summer it's quite practical, his hands are always cold.

Everyday life moments

when he takes you in his arms he always rocks you against him, whether you are standing or lying down.

in the same way he constantly runs his hand through your hair, without necessarily caressing it, just to feel the softness of it between his fingers. He often falls asleep like that, with his hand in your hair.

you really like making bouquets of wildflowers, sometimes you give them to Erik, sometimes you just put them in a pretty vase at your home.

in turn, he really likes to pick up leaves or pine cones in the forest to show them to you later and put them in jars, to make decorations.

you always keep a ring, a bracelet or a necklace on you so he can pull you against him if he needs to, and he does it more than often.

sometimes when he has trouble telling you something then he will tell you in German, and because of that you had to learn some basics of this language. During your first years together, he only told you he loved you in German, because it was still too hard for him to say it any other way.

Sexual life

he doesn't have a teenage libido, in fact he's rarely the first to initiate the act. He admires you a lot, he literally has hearts in his eyes when he sees your body but it's something deeper than sexual excitement, he really finds your body beautiful, so much so that he just wants to admire it first and then yes maybe he'll have a budding erection.

he still has desires, they're just less frequent than you.

sometimes you'll look at him with those eyes and he immediately understands the message, but that doesn't mean he always wants it, it varies in fact.

you always respect that. If he doesn't want it, he doesn't want it and that's it.

but he also knows that his excitement can increase with a little time, and in those moments you're always there to help him feel comfortable and confident.

that's also why you spend a lot, a lot, of time on foreplay. He needs to take his time to be fully present and as excited as you are. But honestly, you're fine with that. Thanks to that, you've regained a taste for foreplay that was a bit neglected in your previous relationships.

you sometimes pleasure yourself, and he always has a big smile on his face when he hears your moans from the other side of the house. Sometimes he even knocks on the door and slips a little "can i join you?".

in turn, you taught him something : masturbation. It may seem simple to say like that, but he never took the time to do it, or if he did it was just mechanical but never for him. So you explained many things to him and little by little you reintroduced this pleasure into his life.

maybe it's due to the premature death of his mother, or his need to always control everything, but he has a little fantasy for submission. You first noticed it when you asked/ordered him to look you in the eyes while he came on you. Since then, you have fun handcuffing him to the bed (poor iron handcuffs that ended up shriveled), putting your hand on his throat or grabbing his face between two fingers, and even you like it a lot.

it doesn’t have a few penetrations in your intimate moments, at least "traditional" penetration, but Erik can make you cum many times just with his fingers, he has a bit of a gift for that according to you. You also really like keeping your underwear on and feeling him through it, it's even more exciting for the both of you.

Entourage

he has no one left except you, and when you try to ask him about Charles he immediately shuts down.

you know that he has a great friendship with Charles Xavier and you have tried for a long time to patch them up but even you feel that the situation is too complicated. From what Erik told you, he and Charles have only reconciled to better argue for several years.

you have already met Raven, or Mystique, as she prefers to be called. Honestly you could get along well, but she is a little distant towards you, and towards everyone in general. Despite that she often sends letters to your house, and sometimes Erik says he sees her in the street, even if you don't see anyone, or too many people.

you don't really have any friends, so no saturday night parties or restaurants, at least not with people, just the two of you and that suits you very well.

Vulnerability

he has phases where he becomes very cold and distant. In those moments, you know that it’s better not to try to force things at the risk of making him even more angry.

he is constantly afraid of losing you, of not protecting you enough, and sometimes this fear is stronger than on certain days so in those cases he is convinced that it is better for him to leave you and go away. At first, you had a lot of trouble with that, you had difficulty trusting him again after this paranoid phase, but time has calmed things down. He still thinks about it sometimes, thinks about leaving to protect you from any potential danger that he could attract, but now he tries to talk to you about it instead of freaking out all alone in his corner.

you have learned to use the right words to reassure him, and especially to banish certain words.

but he's not the only one having hard times, you also sometimes imagine the worst or are simply flat. In turn, he is there for you as you are for him. Often he knows that you don't want to talk so he’ll not force you to do anything, he’ll just stay with you, a hand on your body to show you that he is not leaving.

Sentences that scream “Erik”

What are you thinking about?

Be careful/Don't burn yourself/Gently when you get up/Let me do it for you ok?

It made me think of you

Ich liebe dich bärchen

I just want to protect you, you're so sweet, way too much for this world

I'm not cruel sweetheart, just realistic. Look around you, children are killed for their simple DNA, so why should i be understanding towards their murderers ?

I wouldn't do anything you wouldn't accept

SEXUALITY

I should put wires on your ankles so I can control your pretty body mein schatz

You're gonna come again aren't you ? Oh sweetie don't look at me with those eyes, you know you have everything you want

Did you know your skin tasted sweet ? No ? Now you know, mein süßes lieblingsdessert

Darling, you know i could break these handcuffs with a snap of my fingers ? Of course you do, you're beautiful, so tiny in my arms and so sehr bezaubernd on my chest

translations german/english : ich liebe dich bärchen -> i love you teddy bear ; mein schatz -> my darling/my precious ; mein süßes lieblingsdessert -> my favorite sweet dessert ; so sehr bezaubernd -> so captivating

° x-men masterlist

gif : Binar on pinterest

bannière : @/saradika-graphics

[cenittxnadir]

A little fever (Nightcrawler x Reader)

Okey, so this is my very firt story with Kurt. I´ll be posting more soon about him, for the moment I will only write about him. So please tell me if you like it or if you some ideas. You know the drip, english is not my first lenguage... nor german...

Having free time was something new within the mansion, now with Magneto in charge of the institute and reorganizing the activities among the inhabitants of the mansion, he left several mutants without many responsibilities other than taking care of the minors and ensuring that they complete their tasks and training. Because yes, Magneto may be a terrorist and a murderer, but he will never be irresponsible towards education, especially towards the youngest members of the house. So every day he personally made sure that each and every one of the young people attended their classes.

Very responsible on his part, but it does not take away the feeling of discomfort in some of the members, especially the X-Men like Wolverine or Scott, -the only thing they have agreed on since Professor Xaver died-

However, this didn't bother you that much, since you shared the idea with Rogue of giving Magnus a second chance. Because if life had given you a second chance to do things well and help others with your powers, why would you be the one who would deny it to someone else who in the end only seeks to continue with the Professor's dream. Maybe a very innocent or naive move on your part in wanting to see the best in the worst situations but they couldn't blame you either, that's what happens when you live for a long time with a certain blue ex-priest.

Kurt Wagner or better known as Nightcrawler is famous among the mansion even though his humility does not allow him to recognize it, but he is very loved within the mutant community, both at the institute and in Genosha. Since his arrival at the mansion, Kurt has been the echo of the people who continue their struggle and the voice of those who cannot raise it due to the impunity that lives in a world where being different was wrong.

But for you, more than a spokesperson or a faithful follower of God's teachings, he was a man, a very good one whom you had the fortune of calling boyfriend and sharing life with him for a couple of years now.

Unfortunately, being someone who was too influential within the community, Magneto relied a lot on him and his professionalism to deal with complicated issues within Genosha. He was recently offered the position as Faith Group Mediator in Genosha and it was definitely not an opportunity he would pass up, there was so much to do and learn. But Kurt is still one person against the hundreds of problems that a nascent nation can have, the poor man was exhausted but his determination to help was greater than his physical or emotional ailments.

You had been living apart for a couple of months now, the problem was not the distance, Megneto was kind to you and gave you access to the Jet as many times as you wanted so you could go visit him, but like Kurt, you were also someone important among the X-Men, you were a very good teacher and guide for the younger ones who were just awakening their abilities and Magneto needed you in that area. It was not an easy decision for the two of you but it was a good opportunity to explore new areas in your lives, you as the one in charge of guiding and educating the new generations and him as a founding member of the nation that would accommodate those new generations.

Lately due to both of their workloads it has caused communication to be minimal, but this would soon change for you since the holidays were approaching and you would have more free time and the possibility of visiting him for a couple of weeks but the problem is that Kurt was not answering your messages or calls, worried you went to the person you least expected to go to discuss a topic of this type.

It was the 5th turn you had taken in the hallway that led to Magneto's office door. You didn't know how to start the conversation or how to ask him, maybe Kurt was very busy and going to visit him would only delay him in his work and you didn't want that to cause him problems with Magneto, even though he now plays for the good guys you are still afraid of him. Whatever the reason Kurt wasn't responding, you had to make a decision right then and there.

A couple more turns and you almost left marks from your shoes on the carpet.

"Come on, you can do it. It's just Magneto, the greatest mutant ex-terrorist in history, what could go wrong?" You started to encourage yourself "Come on, don't you want to see Kurt?" You counted to three, it's now or never. You barely touched the wooden door when it opened.

"I was just going to look for you" "Me? Why?" You were more confused "You might want to sit down." He said something serious as he offered you a seat. "It's about Kurt. He's not okay, there was a flu outbreak on the island recently, nothing alarming, but, he hasn't stopped working since he arrived in Genosha, I've trying to talk to him, he needs to rest and recover from the fever but he doesn't listen to me"

You didn't know what impressed you more, Magneto's concern or Kurt being sick. No one knows if it's part of his mutation or if he just has a good immune system, but it's extremely rare for Kurt to get sick. "I need you to go to Genosha and stop him, it seems that he only listens to you."

"Well... that explains why he doesn't want to talk to me. He doesn't answer my messages, much less my calls. I just hope that after this you give him a break from so much work, Erick." You were a little upset with him, with both of them actually, Erick for making Kurt work too much and Kurt because he is not good at asking for help. "I'll leave right away"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It only took you a few minutes to get everything ready to go, you thought Hank would be more reluctant to lend you the Jet but as soon as he found out what was happening with Kurt he didn't think twice. After a couple of hours you finally arrived at the mutant nation of Genosha, everything was very different from the first time you visited just a couple of months ago. Everything was very beautiful, the lights, the people so colorful and friendly, children being free and happy. It was a dream.

Quickly got out of your thoughts and focused on finding your blue boyfriend who is most likely hiding away working. It was not difficult to find it, Magneto gave instructions on where to look and sure enough. Inside a large window in the main city building was Kurt... well, part of him, you could only see his pointy ears behind a pile of paper towers.

You slowly approached to knock on his door. Silence. Suddenly there was only the sound of a chair being dragged and something moving inside the room. A few seconds later the door opened revealing a rather tired Kurt. You could see the dark circles under his eyes, which didn't shine like they usually did.

"Meine Liebe?" You couldn't help but smile as you listened to Kurt, he sounded overly impressed to see you. Although the smile did not last long since Kurt sounded very bad, he was hoarse and if it were not for the light from the hallway that illuminated his face you would have ignored the color in his cheeks and the sweat on his forehead.

"You're not okay, Krut, you need to rest" was the only thing you could respond, opening the door completely and revealing the office, there were hundreds of papers scattered all over the place. "You haven't stopped working since you arrived. You had me worried" Kurt didn't say anything, just hung his head in some shame. "It's true, I didn't tell you anything because I didn't want to worry you, I wanted to finish work so I could return to the mansion with you as a surprise but work just keeps piling up and this flu won't leave me alone" He sounded really fed up with the situation.

"Come on, you have to rest. I'll take you home and prepare you something to eat." You took him by the arm carefully. "You probably haven't eaten anything useful all day."

"Of course I have eaten my love! Here in Genosha there is a lot of variety of food and delicious dishes" He said with his circus voice, he always uses it when he is happy or wants to show you something that excites him very much. Or well, with a voice attempt, it really sounded very hoarse

"Dear, candy and desserts don't count as food." You pointed to a pile of wrappers on the side of his desk. "I'm surprised you've never actually had a toothache or something at this point."

You approached his desk to arrange the papers he was working on. "Well, take your things, let's go get something to eat and let you rest."

"But Mein Schatz, I still have a lot of work to do. I can't leave, but you can go ahead and make yourself at home" He gave you the keys to his room

"Kurt, I came here to check on you and make sure you're resting and for God's sake that's what I'm going to do. If I have to take drastic measures or even if I have to drag you to your room I will do it. Don't make me go to extremes Kurt Wagner" You wanted to sound serious but it was almost impossible, you were too happy to see him.

"If you continue to be reckless, then I will have to leave and there will be no cuddling sessions for at least a whole month, anyway you are very busy with your work. I think I better go" You said with a fake sad tone as you walked towards the exit but a huge gasp stopped you.

"You wouldn't dare do that! Saying that is like blasphemy." Kurt looked at his desk for a second. "On second thought, going to rest doesn't sound so bad." He looked at you with concern, he really thought you were going to leave him without his sessions. They were sacred to him.

"Well, let's go. It's still early, if we leave right now we'll have more time for ourselves." You didn't even finish speaking when Kurt was already on the side of the door ready to leave with you.

When you got to his room you could see Kurt better, his face was tired and the fever was still there.

"Why don't you take a bath while I'll take care of the food?" you took his face in your hands, caressing his cheek and then leaving a kiss on his nose.

The bath took effect and soon his temperature began to drop but he still had to eat something before taking his medicine. They were both sitting on the couch eating some hot soup while watching something on television, although it was just background noise.

Kurt was telling you what his days had been like since he arrived, you were paying attention but you couldn't help but see how he rubbed his shoulder constantly.

"Love? Are you okay?" you pointed to his shoulder

"Ah, it's nothing, it's just that I haven't been able to sleep well lately and well... sitting for hours is not very pleasant" He said with a sideways smile showing one of his fangs.

Without saying anything you took him by the hand and led him to the bed, asking him to lie face down while you took some oils and creams from your backpack. Kurt initially refused because he knew he was going to fall asleep and wanted to spend the night awake with you talking. Not a very smart plan considering his state of health. The complaints were short-lived once he felt your hands on his back. Almost by magic, Kurt remained silent and soon you only heard small snoring due to his congestion. You couldn't help but laugh a little, he looked so adorable. You took his blanket and tucked him in, giving him a kiss on the head.

You quickly cleaned what was used during dinner and changed your clothes to lie next to Kurt, who almost as if it were a magnetic force moved until he was lying on your chest. You were definitely going to wake up with the flu but that didn't matter.

"Please don't go," Kurt said in his sleep.

"No, my love. I'm going to stay here with you"

[wishchip106]

Imma share a silly Cherik AU idea with you

Background: I live in FL, and at the Walt Disney World Park EPCOT they have the world showcase they have a Germany Pavilion. Cool thing Disney does is actually hire cast members FROM the country to work there.

SO: Erik is spending a year working at EPCOT because he thought it would be good work experience but also kinda underestimated how exhausting working there and is in guest service hell(he is an introvert!)

Charles got into an accident leaving n him wheelchair bound and Raven thought it would be a great idea to move to Florida to try and to raise his spirits because c’mon it’s the sunshine state!

Anyway they have some sort of meet cute and bond over how exhausting people can be(you can’t have any sort of disability and not he exhausted by people!) and also how much FL actually kinda sucks as a place to live(sunshine state MY ASS)

ngl i’ve always wanted to visit an american theme park… the ones here in australia are MINIMAL (they’re good but where are they all 🙁) although i don’t think i want to be visiting america anytime soon with all that is happening 😰

anyway that was off topic BACK ON TOPIC THOUGH i love this idea and imagining Erik working at disneyland 😭 he does not know what he is getting himself into i’m crying

thank god Charles and Raven are rich as fuck and they can just go to disneyland willy nilly because Charles has a crush on some worker there

sighh meet cutes i love you… and cherik ig.. i love them too

now i’m just imagining someone coming up to Erik to ask him a question and he has to smile at them like this:

girl you’re gonna scare the customers off….

not Charles though man was magnetized right to him (hahah i’m so funny 😀)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

idec anymore. sending this out into the wild

[avengerphobic]

did the avengers even do anything about orchis? they were killing mutants but the avengers don't even give a shit

🏃🏿‍♂️3dmanofficial Follow

am i joke to you

134 notes

🏺greencianurn 🔁 pro-bono-boner

☢️chulkstan Follow

FYI Amadeus is really uncomfortable with yall writing amadeus/herc fics. Cut that shit out

🏺greencianurn Follow

lmao im not gonna stop #why is he even searching it up

1,568 notes

❄️lunasnowed Follow

i cant believe people are still circulating those pictures of brawn and luna kissing #i dont get why people ship them #luna just seems so much like a lesbian #honestly could have been a publicity stunt

14 notes

🕷️spidermarvel 🔁 tony-fucked-that-old-man

anonymous asked: I write fanfic of my friends (we're superheroes). Anyway i found my friends fanfiction of us and confronted him about it, and he said it was weird that I was reading fanfiction about us. And i was like well its weird that you're writing fanfiction about us. he called me a hypocrite. And I got mad and yelled at him and told him I didn't like that he wrote fanfiction where we got together and that it was even weirder that he wrote it so that it was a love triangle with our other friend. He's not speaking to me rn. I feel bad because it is hypocritical of me to be mad. But I feel like writing self-ship is different than shipping your friends. idk....

⚖️aita-polls Follow

#did msmarvel send this in lol

6,594 notes

⚔️blackknightofficial

actually really hurt that theres hardly any rpf of me #there should at least be a couple of fics of me getting down and dirty during the crusades

🤖robotomato 🔁 cap4cap

🌟cap4cap

people are weird why ship a guy with a dude who tries to kill him like every other week

#dont get the appeal especially when he has a best friend and wife?

7 notes

🚀illegalrocketship

I saw one of my mutuals vaguing me for shipping dr doom and reed richards. Girl have you seen the way victor looks at him? I have eyes and a heart #villian/hero antis are such losers

4 notes

🌟cap4cap

I DO NOT SHIP SAM WILSON AND STEVE ROGERS I SHIP MONICA RAMBEAU/STEVE ROGERS...... STEVE ROGERS IS NOT GAY #can you people leave me aloneeeee #ive been shipping captain marvel and captain America since before most of yall have been alive

3 notes

👨🏻‍🦲mrcleansgaybrother🔁yougottapinata

☄️mutantmeanace Follow

so we're all in agreement that professor x and magneto fucked right

🪅yougottapinata Follow

dont be fucking weird magneto dropped a car through my house??

👨🏻‍🦲mrcleansgaybrother

yeah and he fucked professor x

153 notes

🇨🇦 alphadflight 🔁 northstarofficial

anonymous asked: Is it okay to ship you with Iceman even though you're married

💫northstarofficial Follow

Uh, so I'm not the superhero Northstar. I am a roleplay account for the North Star. Like in the Sky. But Sure you can ship me with Iceman #adjalkfjaajkfd

1,567 notes

anonymous asked: Not you shipping Bucky and Steve Rogers even tho steve met bucky when he was literally a child

🦥slothbaby

I DIDNT KNOW 😭 #i should have looked it up i know but it just never occurred to me #because its such a widespread ship

19 notes

👨🏻‍🦲mrcleansgaybrother

i want to shine professor x's bald head #id let him run me over with his wheelchair ugh

12 notes

🇺🇸 usgaygent

did yall see how sad us agent looked looking at hawkeye in this video. he wants him so bad..... #hawkagent #us agent #hawkeye #clint barton #the way being us agent is a performance for him #and the government doesnt let him act on his feelings #so he just has to burn with desire

1 note

🪩discodomino

why isnt there one million fics about them 😭😭😭 #UGH WHYYYY

15 notes

⛈️stormscloud

the way yall ship dazzler with every woman she so much as looks at is so annoying no wonder she's locked in the fucking closet yall wont stop speculating about who she has fucked #i hate rpf fans

4 notes

🌞wondermaynnnn

do yall think hank beast and wonder man have explored each others bodies

10 notes

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

what's magneto doin,?

The ride back was... quiet for a long time. Erik had watched your grandparents fuss. Pushing food at you. Your grandmother tried to give you money, only to scold you until you took it when you tried to politely refuse it.

He might have teased you. About the petnames. And about the way they sent you on your way with kisses and cookies. Hugging you to them like they might never see you again but- the fact was, they might not. The drugs you'd used to dull the pain didn't kill you but, this might.

"It's not your fault," he said, "what happened. You were 11-"

"And yet here we are," you tell him, frowning at the car behind you as you exhale slowly. "We're about to get pulled over."

"For what?" he demanded.

"Who fucking knows," you sigh. "Just chill out and hand me the folder in my glove box." You pull over and roll the windows down carefully, keeping your hands on the wheel and wait.

"Ma'am, do you know why I pulled you over?" the officer asked.

"No sir," you answer, "I don't. i'd appreciate it if you'd tell me."

Erik watches the other man carefully. Watches him assess you. "Speeding," he said. "You were doing 45 in a 30 back there-"

"I didn't even realize," you tutted. "I was just coming from my grandparent's house. We went there for dinner." You shake your head and pick up the folder with your registration. "If you give me a second, my wallet is in my purse-"

Erik watches you work- and for just a moment, if he didn't know better, he'd say you DID have persuasive powers. You drop a name, smile and bat your eyes. And before he knows it; both of you are back on the road with a warning. Without either of you having to drop an ID.

"Do you really know the mayor?" Erik asked, smiling a little.

"Fuck no," you snort. "But I know his kid. And I know he threw him out... Richie is fine by the way. We found him a really nice foster family in Denver." You shake your head and settle back in your seat again, relaxing fractionally.

"How-" he stopped himself unsure how to phrase the question.

"As far as I can go," you tell him shrugging. "What else is there? I can't pass a background check. I'm on watchlists everywhere. Pretty sure I can't even get on a plane anymore- There's not one other thing I could do even if I wanted to."

He regarded you. The worn clothing and the wary-eyed way you scanned the road- for a pacifist who refused to carry a weapon you looked a hell of a lot like a soldier. Fighting a fight that wasn't even yours. All for one person.

Because the guilt swallowed you whole. Because you saw her in the eyes of every child thrown to the gutter- even though you were just a child too.

"Little one," he sighed, "I don't know if you're brave or stupid."

"Does there have to be a difference?"

[pacing-er]

I've been trying for a few days to get my thoughts in order on white haired Magneto, since that is something that I have strong feelings about.

It is canon in some of the comics that Magneto's hair is white due to a secondary mutation, though this is inconsistent throughout the decades of iterations. Because he is mostly depicted as an older man, people naturally assume that he is white haired because of his age. However in most early depictions of a younger Magneto his hair is white. This includes the Legion Quest comics, wherein (timeline inconsistencies aside) we are seeing an Erik Lehnsherr from 20 years past, likely 40 or 50 at the oldest. Even earlier in the timeline when his first daughter Anya died he was likely in his 30-40s, but he was still depicted with stark white hair. This would be very premature hair whitening and--though not impossible--it is unusual. Additionally we see a de-aged child Magneto at several points in the comics with white hair. It would make sense for him to have this secondary mutation considering he seemingly passed it on to two of his children (Pietro and Lorna) and one of his grandchildren (Tommy). So, yes, there is a decent amount of evidence that Magneto has naturally white hair because of his mutant DNA.

There are several possibilities then:

-Magnetos hair had been a natural color as a child but turned white due to a secondary mutation when his powers manifested.

-Magnetos hair had been white due to a secondary mutation since birth, with his powers manifesting separately later.

-Magnetos hair turned white due to outside factors (ex.: Excessive stress, Other mutant interference, etc.)

With the magic of comic books, all three of these possibilities are (frustratingly) canon at once. However, I personally subscribe to the idea that Magneto would have had a natural hair color at birth and through his early childhood. In the comics his mutant gene is said to have activated very late, since he was well into adulthood when he got his powers whereas normally a mutant's powers would come during puberty. This is stated to have been because of malnutrition and disease from a childhood spent in the Ghettos and Concentration Camps. His white hair could have manifested later at the same time as his powers, which activated after the death of his first daughter Anya. This would also help avoid the problem of depicting a Jewish child with stark white hair in Auschwitz, which would be unrealistic at best and outright offensive at worst. I think that this is why both the movie and Magneto Testament versions of the character are given a natural hair color. Of course, there is a comic where Magneto is explicitly depicted as white haired from birth including his time during the Holocaust (House of M) but I haven't read it yet so I can't comment on whether or not I think it is in poor taste. As for why de-aged child Magneto is consistently depicted with white hair, it would be because this version of him already manifested his mutant abilities. If he didn't have a mutation affecting his hair color at all, then this detail would be inexplicable (but this is an X-Men comic so who knows atp).

The difference between physical mutations and mutant powers is a whole other thing. We see mutants like Nightcrawler who are physically mutated from birth but don't unlock their mutant powers until puberty, and we see characters like Glob Herman who look normal as children and then physically mutate at puberty in addition to getting their mutant powers. There doesn't seem to be a set rule when it comes to physical mutations like hair color and whether they manifest at birth or not. For Lorna, whose background has been rewritten several times throughout her history, she is said to have been green haired since birth in one comic and then had her hair turn green when her powers activated in another. The fun of comics with decades of history and dozens of different writers and artists is that you get to pick and choose what details you like and want to keep. There is no "right" interpretation of a character and that is both frustrating and freeing. That being said I obviously have not read every X-Men comic out there, so there are definitely details I missed and haven't considered yet.

Please share in the notes your opinion on white haired Magneto and your own personal head-canon!

[dinogoofymutated]

OK!! some notes on episode 9 because I have a LOT to say

WHAT THE FUCK.

Ok first of all, I kinda loved this episode. The character dynamics between everyone was so good! Although I wish we got to see Jean and Storm talk about Madelyne and Nathan, because as far as I know she has no idea. I mean, surely they had to have a conversation about it, because why is there suddenly no baby in the house? But still.

I know we're supposed to be mad at Roberto Right now, but I just can't. It's obvious that he didn't really understand the extent of which going to war on magneto's side would entail. We can see that through the genuine feelings he was showing while fighting Jubilee. He didn't want to fight her, he regretted it the moment he started, but he didn't think that she would fight him back either. Roberto isn't exactly an X-men veteran, so I don't think he fully realized that he was in over his head. And Jubilee? Her heartbreaking "what about me?" FUCK. OH. MY HEART. Roberto really wasn't thinking about the full situation when he sided with Magnus.

The Jean and Cable fight has me heartbroken. Because we know from seeing the fight with Madelyne that sinister is just using Cable’s anger and polarizing it. And the fact that he doesn't see Jean as his mom, but Jean has all the memories from Madelyne? Hell she spoke about how she can remember the pregnancy and I'm sure she still has some feelings about Cable as a son. Also, I really fuckimg hope the ending of that scene doesn't mean she's dead (again) because to be honest I'd be really pissed off.

It was kinda sexy getting to see Cable's powers tho

And the fucking ending??? THE FUCKING ENDING??? FUCK. I really want to know what Rogue was thinking while watching a member of her family literally HAVE HIS BONES REMOVED. Is she still going to choose magneto after this? Is she going to place the blame on Logan for fighting in the first place? Imagine when storm finds out, after she had already expressed her emotions about permanent power loss. UGH.

I need to write some Logan fluff after this this is bulllshit.

-an added note, I kinda feel for the professor in this one. Hell yeah I'm mad at him, but the pain he's been going through kinda hits my heart. The scene where he wakes up, looks to the other side of his bed to find Lillandra obviously not there, and the difference between having the ability to walk and loosing it? :( and he really seems to be going through it emotionally. He was absolutely thinking only about the idealistic life he thought he was leaving his students but in the end he completely fucked it up. Sorry buddy, but maybe do that once the fight has been finished next time.

[ffverr]

hello I come to you with a request. I watched x men 97 recently and was saddened by how little time the whole magneto in charge of the x men storyline got and I know he does this longer in the comics (I can't say why but the phrase "its seven in the morning max..." lives rent free in my brain) so I wanted to ask if you have any recommendation for comics from that era / any recommendations for comics with mister magnet-os because I want to get into x men comics but comics as always are so daunting

It is my great pleasure to answer this!!

Disclaimer 1, I am still going through a lot of the issues of this era but I will try my best to make it as clear a guide as I can for you!

Disclaimer 2, Headmaster of the school and leader of the X-Men are quite different positions that they kind of fused together in the 97 show so I do want to make it clear that magneto in the "seven in the morning" era is headmaster of the school, teaching young kids, while Storm is leading the X-men team and Scott is leading the X-factor team, so with that said:

Magneto's teacher arc starts in uncanny X-Men issues 199 and 200 (iconic issues containing the trial of magneto that was adapted in the show!) And then he is headmaster of the school in the book "The new mutants" by Chris Clermont, from issue 35 to issue 75. It is A LOT I admit and he gets a more minor place considering the book is about the kickass young class of new mutants that he's teaching. But it is worth checking out! Many consider this to kind of be peak magneto because.... he's trying so hard to be a good teacher and to handle all these kids and it's very humanizing for him!

I mean look at him and his 8 kids!

Now, how to get into Magneto overall? Let's get into it:

I believe it is impossible to get into Magneto without reading his ultimate origin story, Magneto: Testament by Greg Pack. It is a quick intro, it barely features his powers (not an action comic) and it is a very very emotional read. I consider it essential magneto reading!

Next up: Two One shots if you want to get a quick primer on the character pre moral arc instead of sitting through his few appearances in the Stan Lee comics:

A classic one: X-Men: God Loves, Men Kills by Chris Claremont. It is an iconic comic book one shot that can be read out of continuity just to see what his deal is when he's not necessarily on the side of the X-Men but fighting for his own ideals! It's overall a brilliant comic book!

If you want a more recent retelling of the first appearances of magneto you HAVE to read X-Men Mythos that retells magneto's major first appearance in the 60s in quite a beautiful and amazing way! It also has an absolutely insane magneto scene that is very memorable! (So this would "chronologically" come before God loves men Kills)

Now for his switch from cartoon villain of the 60s/early 70s to complex guy in the 80s, read the issues 149 and 150 from the run Uncanny X-Men by Chris Claremont. This is THE pivotal moment for "good guy" Magneto

(know that after issue 150, somehow he falls in the ocean from asteroid M, is rescued from a shark attack by Scott's girlfriend Lee Forester. They have a quick relationship where he struggled with his change of morals then he comes to the new mutants)

if you want to continue chronologically you read the issues 199 and 200 that I recommended at the start then go to the new mutants book I talked about earlier!

If you want MORE MODERN comics, then I advise you get right into what's happening at the moment!

House of X powers of X are two series that intertwine (you'll easily find them in the right order) by the same writer, Jonathan hickman!

It serves as a status quo change/relaunch of the X-Men universe. Magneto plays a big part of the story as he is directly involved in building a mutant nation. I'd say it's a bold but quite functional intro to X-Men comics!

Then he appears as a major character in the GREAT series X-Men Red by Al Ewing alongside Storm, a character that meant a lot to him in the 80s, so it's really nice to see again.

In this he is- epic, depressed, suicidal, sassy, it's great magneto stuff! This series is widely regarded as the best X-Men comic out right now!

(if you want context for this book read the event X of Swords, or I could explain if interested)

That's about all I will lay on you ! If this is hella confusing, don't hesitate to dm me! I can detail more cleanly exactly what you have to read and when!

Good reading!