Michael Fassbender & Characters One-Shots

Dream Catcher, Part 1

Summary: You can remove nightmares, but you haven't exercised your mutation in a long time, so Charles gives you an assignment...can you complete it? 

Warnings: Mild language.

A/N: I love the idea of a quirky or anxious sunshine reader paired with Erik so I whipped this up after I kind of daydreamed most of it. Part Two is in the works. 

Words: 4282

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All mutants are weird. That would be the exact definition of a mutant; weird. As if having superhuman powers doesn't make you weird enough, you're also blessed with a rather odd personality. You aren't like the other girls Charles found. You aren't outspoken like Raven. You aren't an exotic, beautiful specimen like Angel nor can you flaunt your natural beauty as well as Emma. They're a Holy Trinity of feminine glory that you could never hope to achieve. Not little old (Y/N), the quirky, quiet, abstract orphan. Every mutant needs a sob story...yours is nothing special. Crappy parents. A drunk mother, a non-existent father. A car crash wiped out the fraying thread holding you above the chasm that is the foster system. Snip. Two intoxicated teens bought you a ticket into the system where you suffered for your teen years.

It was that time of your life that you discovered it.

Your powers.

What makes you a true weirdo.

Luckily, as an adult, you have an easier time hiding. Your power hibernated for five years while you fought to secure a life for yourself, finally free of foster parents and the constant 'coming and going' of the system. You hadn't used your power since your last foster home.

Their toddler was crying in her sleep.

The parents weren't awake...so you took the risk and plucked the nightmare right out of her head.

She immediately relaxed.

You took the little troublemaker and sealed it in a vial.

It sits in your new room at the mansion, along with an assortment of seven other jars and vials, each home to a nightmare.

That little girl, that vial, was your final risk. The last time you'd ever use your power...

Or so you thought.

"You need practice."

Practice.

The same assignment Charles has been giving you since he found you.

"I can't...I mean...how?"

Charles raises a hand to silence your stuttering. You twiddle your fingers at your sides. Always the fingers. It's a habit, a nervous twitch if you will. Plucking, curling, playing invisible piano keys to an anonymous tune. Your fingers dance across the air above your lap and Charles gently cups your hands in his, pressing your fingers against his palm and stopping their choreomania.

His hands are soft, warm.

Exactly like his voice when he says, "Just find someone who needs a good night's sleep, and make a friend."

Your eyes fly to his. "You...but you said –"

Smiling kindly, Charles raises both your hands to his mouth, "You and I, (Y/N) are both stewards of the mind. I'm the guardian of thoughts, you are the guardian of dreams," He kisses each knuckle in turn. "You know as well as I that it doesn't require powers to understand the state of another's mind."