Michael Fassbender & Characters One-Shots

Are we even friends?

Summary: You and Erik are friends...or so you thought until Raven's comment calls that into question...

Warnings: Mild language, alchohol, smidge of angst, Raven being a little shit.

A/N: Soooo this is my first Erik Lehnsherr one-shot. I haven't even watched the X-Men movies beyond the first two originals even though I've been begging mom since forever lol. But I saw clips on youtube and pictures and interviews and I'm sold on Young Magneto. Michael Fassbender is hot and I'm obsessed so I knew I needed a new one-shot book all for him and his characters. Hopefully this is accurate enough to the movies. Also the reader's mutation is inspired by Ransom Rigg's series, 'Mrs. Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children.' 

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 His brow creases as he raises a hand. The sun illuminates the lines of his palm and the crisscross of veins, pink and blue beneath his skin. You watch his fingers twitch and shake, rippling under the stress of his power, mirrored in the harsh expression on his face; his knitted brows, the tight seal of his lips. A vein bulges along his neck. You study every aspect of his struggle to lift you into the air. Your boots are heavy, made of lead and iron. They keep you rooted to the ground while you learn to control your own bodyweight. Unlike most, you have zero mass. You simply float. If you took off your metal shoes anywhere without a roof, you'd disappear in the sky like a lost balloon. High above the clouds, into the far reaches of the heavens where air no longer exists.

A place where you'd quickly suffocate.

A cold, lonely death.

Your feet leave the grass.

"Yes."

Erik shifts on his feet.

You dip in the air. "N – you've got this! So close!"

Erik grinds his teeth together but recollects himself and begins to raise you higher and higher and higher. A smile spreads on your face as you grow taller than the trees just behind Erik. Their cluster of leaves shrink. The warm summer air lightly toasts your skin, less intense in the later parts of the day like now, an hour or so after dinner. An hour before the party. To celebrate the recent graduating class, Charles has promised the youth a party. You aren't ready to graduate, but your friends are and they've invited you to their celebration. Knowing the evening would be consumed by a sea of raging teenagers, stolen drinks and wild mistakes, you made sure that you'd get time with Erik earlier in the day. That determination took you to the field where you're hovering, suspended by Erik's metallic manipulation.

A bird soars past your head.

He sings you a song.

Laughter bubbles from your lips, "I'm flying, Erik!"

Below you, he opens his eyes.

"Why are you so excited? You can fly whenever you want!"

"Not without a rope around my waist!"

Erik begins to lower you.

You whine in protest.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"In 60 minutes!"

"You'll have to change." Erik's voice is clearer now that you've touched back down. His hand falls to his side and weave into his pocket as he steps towards you. His eyes flit about your figure, assessing any damage.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"

You gesture to your ripped jeans and baggy t-shirt.

Erik quirks a brow. "This is not a party outfit."