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willows-escape · 8 months

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Symbolic - 1990!Erik x Reader - Part 1

Pairing - Erik (1990! Charles Dance) x (Female) Reader

Summary - the topic of the mask was the last obstacle in your blossoming relationship, and you were desperate to cross the barrier and become fully intertwined with the man you loved and claimed he loved you too.

Warnings - erik’s deformity is a mix of the deformity we see erik have as a child in the 1990 version and the musical, phantom having a small breakdown, the ✨mask✨topic, poorly dealt with feelings, miscommunication, suggestive moments and reference to genitalia and arousal, descriptions of a gory facial disfigurement, intense self hatred, mentions of christine but she’s long gone in this

Word Count - 4,770

Notes - there will be a part 2 i gotchu i gotchu. should part 2 be smutty or also just suggestive? also i tried writing this in a victorian-esque tone but if you arent vibing with that let me know and i’ll switch it up for part 2. i just thought it would be a nice touch.

give me feedback !!! pleasee !!!!

01 (you're here!) / 02

The nearby sound of trickling water gracefully blended into the ambiance of your surroundings; the towering trees above you resembled a verdant canopy. The quilt beneath you protected your body from the prickly blades of grass and artificial soil, offering a comfortable spot to recline with your hair spread out beneath you, shimmering in the artificial light.

You laid supine, hands elevated above you to cradle a book you had recently begun reading. The words captivated your attention, submerging you in a realm of fantasy and euphoria. Reading was your preferred means of escaping reality, a release you frequently yearned for when the burdens of the world weighed on your shoulders. It all faded away when you became engrossed in the pages of a book.

Regrettably, you were not the only person who was aware of your coping mechanisms. The situation was quite an affair, so you wouldn’t delve too deeply into the small details, but the love of your life had at long last informed you of his reciprocal affection for you. It felt magical and otherworldly to hear that sweet confession escape his enthralling lips, his eyes penetrating into the depths of your soul as his hands tenderly grasped your waist. You had witnessed the words that you only ever seemed to hear in your dreams.

So what had left you so apprehensive?

Well, the man you spoke so highly about, Erik, did not seem to return those high opinions for you. There was a part of himself he laboured ceaselessly to conceal from you, a mask that symbolically and literally kept up a barrier between your world and his world to prevent them from intertwining. You’d exchanged tender sentiments, cried tears of anguish and passion the night you’d finally confessed. You clung to each other as if your lives depended on it and subjected each other to a night of basking in vulnerability and fragility as your secrets long harboured tumbled past your tongue before you could restrain them. The morning after was no less exquisite and that of a fairy tale romance, but the barrier remained.

That mask he wore, pale and icy to the touch, silently spoke of his distrust for you. The final puzzle piece that he adamantly refused to fit into place, even for the sake of your love. Oh, it was a cruel predicament indeed! All you desired was to behold the appearance of the man you held dear, but he swore by the highest heavens that his visage would send you fleeing, and that was the last outcome he desired. To some extent, you understood his apprehension, having heard him recount tales of how numerous individuals he had cared for and adored had reacted abhorrently upon the unveiling of his face. But how could he expect the two of you to spend the remainder of your lives together without even a glimpse of his unadorned skin?

You weren't expecting Prince Charming, and while you weren't entirely convinced by his claims of him having a face of nightmares, you did trust that he might not be conventionally attractive. After all, you had never seen him. Besides his gentlemanly actions and his physique that seemed as if it had been crafted by a divine being, you weren't going to assume that he was the most handsome man in the world. You would love him nonetheless. But no matter how greatly you persisted and promised him you wouldn’t leave despite what he looked like, he truly did not believe a word you said. And it hurt.

“A new book, dear?”

You glanced upward, granting the subject of your grovelling a tight lipped smile as you hastily flicked your attention back to the words on the page. No anger dwelled within you, just painful disappointment, and the ache in your heart made it hard to bare the sight of him. “Of course. It’s Jane Eyre.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, his walking cane planted firmly into the ground below. You internally winced as the silence rang loud in the air. You were not seeking to upset your lover, but also somehow desiring to communicate that you weren't entirely pleased at the moment. It appeared that the message had travelled clear, but the upset was unavoidable.

A moment more passed before he spoke, “I feel a chill coming on. Seems as though it’s about to rain, don’t you think? Come, let’s retreat inside before it starts to pour.”

You arched a suspicious eyebrow, fingers still tightly clasped around the novel you held. If the plastic animals scattered around that Erik had stolen from the props department said anything, everything in this quaint woodsy area was unquestionably fake. From the dirt to the grass to the trees, the animals and the sky. It went without saying there would be no rainfall. This meant he wanted to discuss things with you without the distraction of your nose being buried within the pages of a book. And you weren’t entirely sure how to feel about it.

“And why should I do that?” you questioned, paying him no eye contact as you pretended to continue to read.

“You wouldn’t want your clothing to get wet, would you? I won’t be visiting the laundry room of the opera house for another week, hence it would be wise to avoid sullying a valuable item of clothing,” he reasoned, knowing fully well that he’d drop whatever he was currently doing to run and fulfil any request you asked of him, never mind visiting the damn laundry room.

You parted your lips, ready to jestingly remark about how there would indeed be no rainfall. Yet, in that very moment, a peculiar sensation graced your senses. A solitary droplet of water descended upon your nose, its touch cold and trailing a path of dampness as it glided down your nasal bridge. A gasp escaped your lips as more droplets descended, their frequency increasing with each passing moment. In a hastened flurry, you stood upright, clasping your cherished book to your bosom. You abandoned the forgotten quilt as you sprinted through the doors adorned with stained glass, leading you back to Erik's modest dwelling. He followed closely, not far behind your hurried steps.

You’d have to speak to him about putting up a gazebo. To block out the sun, you’d tell him.

“Guess you were right,” you half-heartedly chuckled, absentmindedly tossing the book onto a table to the side of you.

You found yourself in Erik’s room of treasures, where he stored and cherished his most esteemed items, namely his collection of masks and his grand piano. The ambiance within was of a tranquil and serene nature, causing your anger to gradually dissipate. Yet, the sorrow and anguish still lingered within you.

"Forgive me, have I down something to displease you?" Erik questioned, his steps measured and deliberate as if he were trying not to startle you, akin to approaching a timid creature. With utmost gentleness, he lightly laid his hand upon your shoulder, allowing it to glide downward, tracing the contour of your arm.

"Erik…" you whispered, tearing your eyes away from him. Your heart faltered, your breath catching in your throat as his fingertips delicately brushed against your skin. A fire simmered in your core, your veins rushing with hot blood as the touch of his hand engulfed you, overwhelming your senses with a fervour. “I… do not wish to upset you.”

“The only upset you cause me is by not being honest with your feelings,” he replied, hand reaching up to gently trace the skin of your cheek. Your eyes felt weak, gently fluttering shut as you indulged yourself in his affections. “Please, tell me what is troubling you.”

You paused for a moment, allowing yourself to succumb to his touch for a little while longer. The words settled on the tip of your tongue, ready to escape you and take a leap of faith from your mouth to his waiting ears, but you’d already approached this subject with him before and did not wish to push him to frustration or sorrow.

“I just…” you paused, “One day, Erik, do you wish for us to be husband and wife?”

His eyes widened, mouth agape in shock at your blunt statement. He stammered in surprise, removing his hand from your cheek slowly. He drew in a deep breath before answering, “There is nothing I desire more than to be wedded to you. Where is this coming from? Are you feeling as though our relationship is moving too slow? I just didn’t want to frighten you by pushing for more. Why, I’ll marry you tomorrow-”

“Erik, Erik,” you laughed, hand coming up to cup his cheek with your own hand as he was doing to you seconds ago, “I didn’t mean it like that, though I’ll marry you the second you ask it of me. Maybe not tomorrow, however.”

“Ah,” his nerves tingled, goosebumps rising on his skin at the electricity of your touch. He cleared his throat before continuing, “While that is a great relief to me, may I ask as to why you asked that, if not for the reason I previously thought?”

Taking one last final pause, you readied yourself to confess your true want. “I know you’ve said no, and told me to not bring up the subject again… but my love, how can I marry somebody when I have yet to see their face?”

Erik pursed his lips, his eyes shifting down as he began fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves. You felt dreadful witnessing the unease that the inquiry evoked in him, understanding that it inevitably resurrected distressing memories he longed to forget. Nevertheless, no advancement could transpire between the two of you in your relationship until he allowed you to see his face. You refused to be bound to someone who concealed such an essential aspect of himself, even if you knew the intentions to be entirely pure.

“I can’t do that,” Erik shook his head, walking away from you and moving towards his basket of walking canes. He placed his current one back with the bunch, before busying himself with rearranging his mask collection. He didn’t want to stray too far from you, but also wanted you to drop the subject.

You quietly tip toed behind him, enveloping him in your arms as you wrapped them around his waist and placed your head on his broad shoulder. You audibly heard his breathing pause, feeling him shiver as he relished in your touch. But nevertheless, he pushed on with rearranging his collection, although he wasn’t moving side to side around the table as he was doing previously.

“But why?” you asked.

“You know why, my face is that of nightmares. And I’ve hurt too many by showing them what they believed they could handle. My expectations are realistic.”

“You could never hurt me!” You insisted, your emotions getting the best of you as you retreated from him. He hunched over slightly, hands resting upon the clear spot of table in front of him to steady himself. His head twitched to the side as he bit his bottom lip in thought.

“Dear, I know you think that I exaggerate when I speak of my face, but I can assure you that I do not lie out of simple insecurity. My own father hid me down here due to my appearance, that must speak volumes,” he sighed, coming up once again to stand straight. “Now please, do not ask again.”

“So when I inevitably return to wallowing in my own feelings and escaping to the woods for hours at a time again, will you tell me to not ask again when you approach the subject of my feelings once more?” you tried to reason, desperately wanting him to view the situation from your point of view.

He didn’t respond for a little while, evidently pondering your words that he knew deep down held some veracity. The matter of the mask was evidently causing you distress, and he couldn't fathom any solution that would alleviate your concerns. But alas, he simply couldn't bring himself to do so.

“I’m sorry, my answer’s no.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, shimmering with unspoken pain and longing. Your vision blurred as a single tear cascaded down your cheek, tracing a path of sorrow. Your body trembled with silent sobs, your shoulders shook as you struggled to hold back the flood of emotions that threatened to consume you. The ache in your heart grew stronger, as if each tear shed was a testament to the love and vulnerability you had offered, only to be met with rejection.

“My dear, please, don’t cry over me,” his arms swiftly enfolded you in an embrace, his own frame quivering with an inability to endure the sight of your tears. With a resolute tenderness, he pressed his chilled lips upon your forehead, bestowing a gentle kiss as he cradled your head against his chest. In a steady rhythm, he swayed, seeking to soothe your anguish and stifle the heart breaking sounds that escaped your lips.

“How can I not?” you wept, fingers shaking from how firmly you were clinging onto his white button up shirt. You were grabbing on to him so tight you feared your nails would pierce holes in the delicate fabric, but you couldn’t bring yourself to relinquish your grip no matter how much you internally fought with yourself. Nothing you were doing seemed to be venting your frustrations adequately, leaving you at a loss for how to cope. "My love, the very essence of my existence, the one who breathes life into me, steadfastly refuses to show me his face."

“You must understand- I feel for you exactly as you describe your feelings for me, if not tenfold. That’s why I can’t show you. I’m protecting you just as much I want to protect myself,” he confessed, eyes squeezing shut as his swaying slowed to a stop. His grip was becoming tighter and tighter.

“I know life has dealt you an unfair hand, Erik, I’ve heard your cries and witnessed your heartbreak. I was there for you all throughout Christine, I was there to see your regret and misery as she left you behind. I did not leave your side for a second. I know the great despair and trauma her reaction to your face cast upon you, but please believe not a hair on my head resembles Christine. I will not hurt you the same.”

Erik held you a little longer, his embrace becoming even more so impossibly tighter. He wasn’t urgent to reply, instead allowing himself to bask in your love for as long as he could manage. Your sweet love was an addiction, an ambrosia he craved every single waking hour. But even then you lived in his dreams, your angelic presence blessing him wherever he went or whatever state he was in.

“I love you, Erik,” you spoke, looking upwards towards him as he began to tilt his head to share your unwavering gaze.

“I love you too,” he said.

“So show me,” you whispered, eyes glistening with tears and lips downturned into a subtle frown.

You took one last look into his eyes, before pushing yourself forward and up. Your lips met in a fervent union, a culmination of the deepest desires and longings that had long been brewing between you both. It was a kiss imbued with a delicate tenderness and an irresistible urgency, your mouths moving in perfect harmony. Each brush of his lips sent electric waves coursing through your body, igniting a blazing fire within your soul. In that timeless moment, you and him surrendered yourselves completely, losing all sense of time and space. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, a silent pledge of profound love and unwavering devotion.

As you reluctantly broke the intimate connection, succumbing to the need for a breath of air, your gaze met his half-lidded eyes. His lips were swollen, and his tongue darted out to moisten his bottom lip as he inhaled deeply. A blush crept across your cheeks as you attempted to conceal the rapid beating of your heart, finally becoming aware of his hands that had gradually ventured downward, tenderly tracing the curves of your waist.

He silently took a moment to recover, savouring the lingering taste of your kiss. It was unlike any other you had shared before - no longer innocent and brief, but a passionate embrace that ignited a fire within you. As your lips met, it felt as if the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in a moment of pure bliss. The intensity of your connection was palpable, like a match being scraped against a stone, creating small sparks that danced and flickered between your bodies. It was a kiss that left you both breathless, your hearts racing with newfound desire and a longing for more.

“If you really insist on seeing my face, come with me to your room. I do not wish to make you feel cornered, but if you are to faint I wish for you to not bring yourself harm.”

You nodded eagerly, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and anticipation. The kiss you shared made every colour appear more vibrant and the air feel lighter, filling every fibre of your being with pure bliss. As you followed him, each step felt buoyant, as if you were walking on air.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your room. Erik was very against you two sharing a bedroom, stating that he did not wish to make you uncomfortable or feel trapped next to him, when the reality couldn’t be farther from that. But you feared that he might’ve just been projecting, that he was the one who felt uncomfortable and trapped with the idea of you two sharing a room, so you’d left the topic alone for another day. That day still hasn’t arrived.

Erik took a hold of your hand, gently pulling you in and shutting the door behind you. He shook slightly, so lightly that you almost thought your eyes were deceiving you. “Are you sure about this, y/n?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been about anything, besides how much I love you,” you giggled.

“I… will not keep you down here, if you decide you never want to see me again. I’ve learnt my lessons, do not fear you reaching the same fate Christine did when she reacted negatively.”

You wanted to protest his words, state that you feeling negatively towards him was inconceivable and never going to happen. You also wanted to tell him to stop mentioning Christine, just the utterance of her name made you scowl. But you didn’t want to argue at a time like this, so you just nodded your head.

“Before I take this awful thing off… that kiss was everything I’ve ever wanted and more. If after this you no longer love me, please know that your display of love made me feel like a normal, living man, and that I’m doing this because I know I can die happy after the fact, if you were to leave.”

“I’m honoured to be able to make you feel that way, my love.”

He hesitantly extended his hand towards the strings that secured his mask to his head, skillfully undoing the knot he had carefully tied. As he prepared to remove the mask, he couldn't help but steal a final wistful glance at you, savoring the moment before gradually peeling it away from his skin, gripping the edges tightly with his other hand. The air seemed to hold its breath as the mask revealed the vulnerable visage beneath, unveiling a hidden side that had long been concealed.

His face was a grotesque sight, something that defied accurate description. The skin was cruelly stripped away, revealing the raw and twisted muscles beneath. It was a horrifying visage, and it made your heart ache. He was deformed, disfigured; the only parts of his face that were covered in flesh were swollen and bright red, contrasting the pale whiteness of his bone. You tried your best to swallow the gasp that was pushing past your throat, but you were human.

You were sure you could hear the sound of his heart shattering, but you were so shocked you could only watch as he crumbled to his knees before you. His screams and cries made you nauseous, his repeated wails of, ‘why!? why!? why!?’ as he grabbed onto the hem of your skirt, hiding his face in the fabric in his suffering. You snapped back into reality, falling to your knees in front of him.

“Erik, no, please-”

“Go, please. Leave me.”

“No, please, hear me out. I don’t hate you-”

“This is hardly a face you’d want to marry!” he protested, burying his face deeper into the fabric of your skirt, resisting as you tried to pull it away. “You may not hate me, but you’re scared! Is this the face of a man you could wake up next to, spend the rest of your love with, make love to at night before we sleep? Please just go!”

“No!” you cried, relenting on your attempts to tear his desperate self away from your skirt. You wrapped your arms around him, this time cradling him against your bosom as you rocked back and forth. You felt the tension slowly dissipate from his form. “I do not hate you and I am not scared of you! I want to do all those things with you, Erik, please I swear!”

His quiet sobs continued to echo through the air, his scared body shaking erratically. With utmost tenderness, you cradled his quivering form in your arms, holding him close and providing a safe haven for his shattered heart. Gently, you brushed your fingers through his hair, whispering words of love and reassurance into his ear. Your touch and soothing voice offered him comfort and solace, doing your best to remind him that your love extended far beyond mere physical appearances.

In that moment, as he sought refuge in your embrace, you felt an overwhelming surge of love and compassion for this broken man before you. Despite the mask he wore, both symbolically and literally, you saw the depth of his pain and the vulnerability he rarely allowed others to witness. Your heart ached for him, yearning to heal the wounds that had haunted him for far too long.

"You are more than your face, Erik," you whispered softly, your voice filled with unwavering affection. "Your heart, your soul, and the love we share transcends any physical imperfections. I love you for who you are, please believe that."

As his sobs gradually subsided, he looked up at you with tear-filled eyes, searching for a glimmer of hope and acceptance. In that moment, you saw a spark of belief flicker within him, a tiny beacon of light amidst the darkness that had consumed him for so long.

"I… I want to believe you," he choked out, his voice trembling with both fear and longing. "But all my life people have only said different. How can they when I don’t have a face, and only the resemblance of a face?”

You held his face gently in your hands, your touch conveying a tenderness that words alone could not express. "I understand. I’m sorry for reacting like that, please forgive me. I love you regardless of your face, it was just unlike anything I’d ever seen before. That’s all. I feel no differently for you than how I felt before you removed the mask.”

He hesitantly inclined towards your touch, his eyes seeking yours for reassurance and acquiescence. He quivered as a vehement cry escaped his lips once more, bedewing your bodice in his tears. Yet, you cared not the slightest, more preoccupied with consoling the poor man trembling before you.

You both sat together on the floor of your bedroom for an indeterminate span of time, but to you it felt like hours. You cradled him like a mother would her infant, tenderly caressing and comforting him with gentle touches and whispered reassurances. You hadn’t seen Erik shed tears since the evening of your confession, and you could only surmise that all the trepidation and unease had finally reached a breaking point and crumbled along with his composure. It deeply saddened you to know the man you loved so intensely hated himself and had been hated so harshly by those around him. You vowed to never cause him pain like everybody else had as long as you both lived.

Eventually, he withdrew from you, gracefully settling on his knees, his hands still shielding his face from your view, protecting his vulnerability. He wiped away the glistening tears that adorned his cheeks, his other hand instinctively seeking to conceal himself from your gaze. A pensive frown graced your mouth as you hesitantly reached upward, your fingers yearning to grasp his trembling hands, only to recoil as he instinctively recoiled in response to your advance.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ve seen it all now, haven’t I?” you hushed, hands dropping from his hands but instead reaching up to smooth back his hair with your fingers.

He sniffled quietly, “Forgive me, I did not intend on frightening you. I am simply unused to showing my bare face around others, it’s unfamiliar.”

“Of course, I understand, love,” you smiled, gently trailing your hand down the side of his face. Goosebumps littered his skin like a trail.

You moved closer to him, your heart racing with anticipation. You kept one hand on his face, basking in the warmth of his skin that didn't have any disfigurement. Your other hand gently draped over his shoulder as you approached, your fingers delicately tracing the contours of his back. He quivered beneath your touch, his legs extending out from under him to create a space for you to come impossibly closer. As you lowered yourself onto his lap, a surge of electricity coursed through your veins. His breath, warm and intoxicating, caressed your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands trembled with uncertainty, itching to remove themselves from his face to come down and touch you instead. You chuckled.

“You can hold me.”

His breath caught in his throat, his mind filled with a whirlwind of desires as he absorbed the words that flowed from your enchanting lips. You couldn't help but chuckle softly, savouring the profound effect you had on the man beneath you.

“I’d like to put on my mask, dear,” Erik finally spoke, “As much as I love having you so close, I’m not ready to show myself to you so unashamedly yet.”

With a nod of your head, you stepped back, allowing him the space he needed to shroud his face from view. Though you comprehended the internal struggle he faced after years of hiding, a bittersweet pang of sadness tugged at the depths of your heart. The poignant reality that he still felt the need to shield himself wounded you deeply. But you tried to keep reminding yourself that it wasn’t personal.

He swiftly and efficiently retied the strings, maintaining his determination, as he stood up following you. You leaned in and planted a brief but meaningful kiss on his lips, savoring the moment before reluctantly breaking away. With a mix of emotions swirling inside, you diverted your attention, attempting to shift your focus away from the recent event that had transpired.

“I’ll be out dusting the statues, you haven’t kept up with them in a while and I’d noticed them on the way in and I think they could really use a clean. I’ll speak to you later.” You quickly retreated from the room without even sparing a second glance.

Erik stood there, mouth agape, unable to comprehend the suddenness of your departure. His mind was flooded with a multitude of questions, doubts, and confusion, hindering his ability to think clearly. As he glanced around the room, an overwhelming sense of awe washed over him, as he tried to process the intensity of the moment and the speed at which you had vanished from his presence. Meanwhile, his body felt an uncomfortable strain, as his arousal pressed insistently against the constricting fabric of his trousers, adding yet another layer of complexity to his already tumultuous thoughts.

You were no less aroused, the tingling sensation in your nether regions proving that you had been mutually affected by your lover. Oh lord, this was going to cause problems.

#phantom of the opera #poto #erik poto #erik the phantom #erik destler #cherik #gerik #gaston leroux #phantom of the opera musical #musical #phantom of the opera x reader #poto x reader #fluff #smut #angst #erik x reader #erik destler x reader #1990 phantom of the opera #2004 phantom of the opera

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taraljc · 10 months

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It would bring me so much joy if Loki went back to like 2010 and audited all of Jane Foster's lectures and read all of her published papers and all of her books, during his 200 plus years of learning everything there was to know about mechanical engineering, theoretical physics, and temporal mechanics.

Because I kept thinking it's not like he can stick around in the TVA grabbing books off the shelf and sitting alone in a corner to teach himself.

Why not go down to the sacred timeline and spend several hundred years actually taking classes? He could have actually enrolled at university and been Erik Selvig's best student 20 years before the Battle of New York. He's a shape shifter! or he could have just worn glasses and a sweater. He could have taken every single one of Ouroboros' classes at Caltech in the 90s multiple times!

And he didn't have to just go to Earth, I mean he could have taken classes on Xandar for all we know. Or even revisited libraries in Asgard, going there when he specifically knew no one would catch him.

It just brings me this little moment of joy, the idea of him showing up at one of Jane's book signings, and telling her sincerely how much he learned from her and Jane being too distracted to notice it's her ex-boyfriend's dead brother whom she hasn't seen in like 12 years because let's face it--it's Jane. She tends to be intensely focused on whatever is currently directly in front of her and everything else in the periphery is lost forever.

#all the headcanons ever #loki #jane foster

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urween · 3 months

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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

#erik lehnsherr #magneto #gn reader #x men hc #x men headcannons #erik lehnsherr headcanon #erik lehnsherr hc #magneto hc #magneto headcanon #erik lehnsherr x reader #magneto x reader

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forever-and-whats-left · 20 days

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I saw someone make a headcannon post, so why not?

Erik:

• he knows pressure points, human weaknesses, etc. basically my excuse to say Erik would know how to disarm Meg in LND because what was that.

• good at everything to an infuriating level. (Everything psychological not so much)

• has an arsenal of dad jokes he uses in increasingly insensitive ways.

• has some weird thing about size. Type of guy to call you “small” as a flirtatious move…

• easily hurt, both physically and emotionally, but refuses to take a break or admit it. Unless Christine is concerned, then he’ll do nothing but wail about it for attention.

• his hands are both cold and smelly, take that translation truthers!

• if he were an ordinary man, he’d still be a complete snob.

• when he’s going crazy he vents his emotions out on a Carlotta-esque toad puppet. There is a tiny wooden stick he beats it with.

Christine:

• would love Fiona Apple.

• her love language is tolerating you.

• people call her “nice” because they rarely speak to her at all. Not that she isn’t, but I’ve always thought she was a bit asocial.

• extremely empathetic to animals. She can’t even kill a spider. (Ahem)

• dislikes being touched.

• moved around with her father a lot, so she has some pretty severe attachment issues. She had good reasons to leave Erik, but Raoul(while he can be a jerk) takes the brunt of her poor coping mechanisms.

• In another life, had Erik not been so pushy and murder-y, they would’ve been very very close.

• Asexual. Yeah. Take that.

• Or she at least would dislike the very potent closeness and intimacy the devils tango brings. In other words sex repulsed.

• After the book, I imagine she took a small break from opera. She'd spent so much of her life doing things for others, and now it was time to do something for herself. Maybe she started singing what she wanted to sing, or maybe she pursued something entirely different. My idea: she began writing stories. After all, her connection to them had always been strong.

• a private woman, thus why she didn’t speak with leroux.

Raoul:

• can be an asshole, but more willing to admit it that others. I choose to interpret the fact that he so readily admitted how cruel he was(to a man who would publish this no less!) as an admission of guilt.

• would never take away music from her.

• a bit pudgy, but has some real muscle beneath it. He can’t be a twink doing sailor work I don’t think. (That rhymed!)

• hates Erik for taking his brother from him. He has a hard time watching Christine mourn Erik because of it.

Daroga:

• becomes Christine’s friend after the plot of the book. How, you ask? Beats me.

• I don’t have many headcannons about him I’m so sorry. Please, pitch your own id love to see em! He’s such an interesting character I feel so bad!

#phantom of the opera #gaston leroux #if there’s any glaring errors on this I’ll wake up to it in the morning

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librababe99 · 27 days

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Moments Between Time: Part Three

CW: violence, emotional distress, angst, dystopian/apocalyptic imagery, Mutant!Reader, character death Word Count: 1948 Summary: Logan is pushed to his breaking point as he battles both enemies and haunting visions of a doomed future. The tension between young Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr only adds to the strain. Will this be the end of the Wolverine?

Authors note at the bottom <3

(Part four)

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The weight of the mission was slowly grinding Logan down. The relentless march of time, the pressure of knowing what was at stake, and the constant strain of working with younger, unpredictable versions of Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr—it was all taking its toll. Each day, the burden grew heavier, pressing down on him like an iron vice, threatening to crush him beneath its weight.

The Charles Xavier of this time was a shadow of the man Logan had known in the future. Broken by loss and drowning in despair, he was erratic, teetering on the edge of self-destruction. And Erik… Erik was a ticking time bomb, his ideals and anger clashing violently with Charles’s more pacifistic approach. Their constant bickering, their differing views on how to save mutantkind, only served to stoke the fires of Logan’s growing anxiety. Every decision, every word exchanged between them, felt like a knife edge, cutting deeper into the fragile hope that they could change the future.

As the day of the assassination approached, the tension became almost unbearable. Logan’s nights were restless, his sleep plagued by visions of a future he was desperate to escape. But the visions had started to bleed into his waking hours, haunting him when he least expected it. At first, they were just flashes—brief glimpses of the devastation that awaited if they failed. But as the day drew closer, the visions grew more vivid, more terrifying.

One evening, after a particularly heated argument between Charles and Erik, Logan found himself alone in a dingy motel room, trying to steady his racing heart. The small, flickering light above the bed cast long, distorted shadows on the walls, making the room feel claustrophobic. He stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror, his face a mask of exhaustion and tension. The man staring back at him was barely recognizable—eyes hollow, jaw clenched, every muscle in his body taut with stress.

As he splashed cold water on his face, the vision hit him like a freight train. He was no longer in the motel room; he was in the middle of a battlefield, the air thick with smoke and the stench of burning metal. The roar of Sentinels filled his ears, their mechanical voices cold and unyielding as they hunted down the last of the mutants.

And then he saw you.

You were fighting valiantly, your powers flaring with an intensity that took his breath away. But even as you fought, even as you took down one Sentinel after another, Logan could see the fatigue in your movements, the desperation in your eyes. You were outnumbered, overwhelmed, and the odds were stacked against you. The scene shifted, and Logan watched in horror as a Sentinel, larger and more menacing than the rest, bore down on you. He tried to move, tried to reach out to you, but he was frozen, helpless to do anything but watch.

The Sentinel’s massive hand swung down, and Logan screamed your name, his voice raw with anguish. But it was too late. The last thing he saw was your face, a mix of determination and fear, before the vision shattered, plunging him back into the dim light of the motel room.

Logan stumbled back, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the room spun around him. He clutched the edge of the sink, his knuckles white, his entire body shaking with the aftershocks of the vision. The image of your final stand was seared into his mind, a relentless loop that played over and over, driving him to the brink of madness.

“No,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “No… it can’t end like that.”

But the fear gnawed at him, a cold, insidious thing that wrapped around his heart and refused to let go. What if he couldn’t change the future? What if, despite everything, you were still doomed to fall? The thought was unbearable, a torment that threatened to break him.

Logan’s mind spiraled, memories of you flooding his senses. He remembered the way you had looked at him before he left, the silent plea in your eyes, the unspoken promise that had hung between you. He had sworn to protect you, to save you, and now that promise felt like a cruel joke, slipping through his fingers like sand.

But then, as if answering the turmoil in his heart, he heard it—a faint, almost imperceptible whisper, like the softest brush of a breeze against his skin.

“Logan…”

Your voice.

He froze, his breath catching in his throat as he strained to hear it again, his heart pounding so loudly he thought it might drown out everything else.

“Logan… I’m here…”

The sound of your voice was like a lifeline, pulling him back from the edge of despair. It was soft, tinged with a warmth that cut through the darkness threatening to consume him. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sound, clinging to it with everything he had.

“I know it’s hard… but you have to keep going.”

Logan’s chest tightened, a mix of relief and pain flooding through him. How were you reaching out to him? Was it a trick of his mind, a desperate hallucination conjured by his longing for you? Or had you somehow managed to connect with him across the vast chasm of time? It didn’t matter. In that moment, all that mattered was your voice, the sound of you, still with him, still fighting, still holding on.

“I believe in you,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly, as if you, too, were fighting back tears. “No matter what happens, no matter how dark it gets… remember why you’re doing this. Remember what we’re fighting for.”

Logan’s hand tightened around the sink, his resolve solidifying into something unbreakable. He couldn’t afford to lose himself, couldn’t afford to let the darkness win. You were still out there, still depending on him, and he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let you down.

“I love you, Logan… never forget that.”

The final words were like a knife to his heart, the truth of them cutting deep, but also giving him the strength to keep going. He swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

“I love you too,” he whispered, though he knew you couldn’t hear him. “And I’m going to save you. I swear it.”

The connection faded, leaving behind a bittersweet ache that settled deep in his chest. But the message had done its work. Logan was more determined than ever, his focus sharpened by the memory of your voice, your touch. He couldn’t afford to fail. Too much was at stake.

The days leading up to the assassination passed in a blur of tension and preparation. Charles and Erik continued to clash, their arguments growing more heated, more volatile, as the day approached. Logan played the role of mediator, trying to keep the fragile alliance from shattering, even as his own nerves were stretched to the breaking point.

And then, the day was upon them.

The air was thick with tension as Logan and his team approached the site where the assassination was set to occur. Every step felt like walking through quicksand, the weight of the future pressing down on him with each breath. His senses were on high alert, scanning every sound, every flicker of movement. This was it—the moment where everything would either be won or lost.

As they reached the courtyard, chaos erupted. The enemy was relentless, attacking with a ferocity that matched Logan’s own. Claws extended, he moved like a force of nature, cutting through the ranks with precision and fury. Every strike was fueled by the memory of you—your voice, your face, your final words. He had to stop Trask. He had to prevent the creation of the Sentinels.

But then, amidst the chaos, a familiar and dreaded presence made itself known. Erik Lehnsherr—Magneto—hovered above the battlefield, his eyes cold and determined. He raised his hands, and from the distance, the ominous clanking of metal footsteps echoed through the air. Logan’s heart sank as the Sentinels, massive and imposing, emerged from the shadows, their eyes glowing with a deadly intent.

Erik’s voice rang out, commanding the Sentinels with a flick of his wrist. They moved with terrifying precision, their metal limbs whirring as they turned their attention toward Logan. He barely had time to react before the first Sentinel lunged, its enormous hand sweeping down to crush him. Logan leaped out of the way, his claws slashing through the air as he fought to keep the mechanical giants at bay.

But for every Sentinel he struck down, two more took its place, their relentless assault wearing him down. Erik watched from above, his expression unreadable, his power thrumming through the battlefield as he manipulated the metal constructs with ease. The ground trembled as more debris was ripped from the earth, swirling around Erik like a deadly storm.

Logan fought with everything he had, his claws tearing through metal and circuitry, but the odds were overwhelming. The Sentinels closed in, their attacks growing more coordinated, more brutal. He could feel his strength waning, his healing factor struggling to keep up with the damage being inflicted on his body.

And then, Erik made his move. With a cold, calculated gesture, he ripped a massive chunk of concrete from the ground, laced with jagged metal shards, and sent it hurtling toward Logan. The impact was devastating. The concrete slab struck Logan with bone-crushing force, knocking him off his feet and sending him crashing into the ground.

Before Logan could recover, Erik raised his hand again, and the metal shards embedded in the concrete shot forward like spears, impaling Logan’s limbs and pinning him to the ground. He roared in pain, his claws digging into the concrete as he tried to free himself, but Erik’s power was too great. The Sentinels closed in, their cold, mechanical eyes fixed on him as they prepared to deliver the final blow.

But Erik wasn’t finished. With a final, forceful gesture, he lifted Logan off the ground, the metal and concrete holding him aloft like a ragdoll. Logan’s vision blurred, the world spinning around him as Erik sent him hurtling through the air. He slammed into the side of a building with a sickening crunch, the impact shattering the wall and sending debris raining down around him.

Logan’s body, broken and bleeding, was thrown through the air one last time, the force of Erik’s power propelling him toward the edge of the crumbling structure. For a moment, he teetered on the edge, his claws scraping against the concrete as he tried to hold on. But the weight of the metal and concrete was too much, and with a final, shuddering breath, Logan plunged into the water below.

The world above seemed to slow as Logan disappeared beneath the surface, the cold, dark water swallowing him whole. The shock of it stole the breath from his lungs, and the weight of the metal pulled him down, deeper and deeper into the abyss. He struggled against the pull, his lungs burning for air, his vision blurring as the darkness closed in.

Above, the battle continued, but without Logan’s ferocious presence, the tide began to turn. The enemy forces, seeing their chance, pushed forward, forcing the remaining X-Men to retreat. As they fell back, eyes scanned the water, desperate for any sign of Logan. But there was nothing—no movement, no bubbles, no sign that he had survived.

“Logan…” someone whispered, the name carried away in the wind.

And somewhere, in the depths of that cold, dark water, Logan drifted, his body still and lifeless, the shadows of the past closing in around him.

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A/N: Hi loves! I'd like to apologize for the inactivity the past few days. I was finally able to get into the doctor yesterday and ended up having an in office procedure done😕 my biopsy results won't be available until sometime next week---but please take it from me to regularly check yourselves for breast lumps... - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

Taglist: @hughverine @itzyahgirllkita1 @nonamevenus @angelofthorr @swthxrry @ayamenimthiriel @charlyrmv @alex21705 @penguinsravioli @mxtokko

#james logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #hugh jackman #gender neutral reader #wolverine x reader #xmen fandom #xmen fanfiction #marvel #Moments Between Time #logan howlett x reader #angst #mutant reader #logan x you #days of future past #dofp! logan #dystopian

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