Log in

No account? Create an account
14 July 2011 @ 04:31 pm
fic; And your heart is fierce, Females of X-Men: First-Class, PG-13 [1/2]  

Title: And your heart is fierce
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3.000
Characters: Emma, Raven, Angel, Moira.
Copyright: Title from “Steer” by Missy Higgins.
01-03 : Quotes from “Asking Too Much”, “32 Flavours” and “Outta Me, Onto You”, all by Ani DiFranco. 04: From “Girl” by Tori Amos.
Summary: She is not the pretty stone attached to a ring, she is the brink of disaster, a blade so sharp that the pain kicks in long after the damage is done.
Author’s notes: birthday-fic for littledust .








if i’m gonna go down

i’m gonna do it with style


She uncrosses her legs and his concentration jitters like the glow wire of a light bulb. Sebastian grinds his teeth. Emma smiles.

“I’m working.”, he says. The pen looks like a weapon in his hand. In fact, most things do.

Emma projects an image of the time she bit down on his neck, remembering how the firm bracelet of his fingers around her wrists felt too much like losing.

His breathing quickens. The spark of unbidden desire she can ignite is one of her favourite flaws in him.

The helmet sits on a table to his right. If he wanted, he could cut off her thoughts like snapping a wire in half, the electric current of her thoughts suspended in mid-air.

He doesn’t.

Her addiction to manipulation is one of his favourite flaws in her.

Sebastian puts the pen down, thumb tracing over the polished metal. She can’t quite suppress the answering shiver that runs over her skin.

“He has grown stronger. His abilities are more refined than ever.”

Emma doesn’t have to read his mind to know what he means.

“Erik will come back again eventually.”, she says. “He failed at killing you once, he will try again. He is stubborn like that.”

“He should be thankful. Few mutants are able to learn about the dimension of their power at such a young age. To push past the limits of their abilities.”

His smile is feral, a sharp flash of teeth. She wonders if his cruelty is the root of her attraction to him. People seem to be drawn to the kind of traits they recognize in themselves.

“Come here.”

Sometimes she dreams about killing him.

She wonders if love and hate balance each other, a zero-sum game.

Emma gets up and crosses the room. She thinks about a little boy’s rage, a bullet that Sebastian fired a long time ago; suicide by remote.

With a broad stroke of his hand Sebastian clears the desk, paper scattering everywhere.

He thinks there is a difference between winning a battle and winning a war. She knows that defeat starts with the small failings: the vulnerable white of his throat, the delicate inside of his wrists, right there for her to sink her teeth into.

She is not the pretty stone attached to a ring, she is the brink of disaster, a blade so sharp that the pain kicks in long after the damage is done.

It is a lesson that Erik Lehnsherr never learned: The secret of survival is not defiance.

It is submission.

Sebastian scratches his nails down her back sharp enough to bruise.

The truth is this: There are few things in the world that can destroy a diamond.

Sebastian Shaw is not one of them.







i want someone who is not afraid of me

or anyone else

in other words i want someone

who is not afraid of themselves


Raven figured that Erik would teach her self-defense.

Charles had probably pictured a judo lesson, the kind where you roll around on squashy gym mats and bow to each other and pretend to dodge punches that come in slow motion.

What Erik really shows her is fighting. Raven spends the majority of the lesson panting on the ground, a copper-sweet taste on her tongue like biting down on metal.

Where Charles would be concerned with providing a soft space to land, Erik pulls her legs from under her and watches her hit the ground. Raven knows there is a moral somewhere in that, but the way her shoulder is throbbing with pain makes it kind of hard to concentrate.

She falls four more times before giving him an accusing stare and leaning against the far wall of the gym for support.

“You could bother telling me what I’m doing wrong.”

Erik doesn’t ask her if she is alright. Maybe his definition of “alright” is “still breathing” or “hasn’t passed out on the floor yet” or even “no acute internal bleeding”.

“You have two options here.”, he tells her.

Erik strides through the room like a panther prowling in his cage, the kind of animal that might not have killed anything recently, but that remains as dangerous as ever. Raven swallows.

“Option one: Learn how to stay on your feet for more than two seconds.”, he says.

Raven pushes herself away from the wall, hands up. Maybe if she throws the first punch she can--

Erik easily deflects the blow she aims at him, grabbing her wrist in one fluid motion and twisting it behind her back. 

She tries to struggle but that only assures to bring her down faster, her knees buckling like a folding rule.

Erik is crouched behind her, his hand around her arm unyielding. A part of her clings to the thought that he wouldn’t push like that if he didn’t think she could handle it.

Erik Lehnsherr doesn’t seem like the kind of man who is particularly prone to grave lapses in judgement.

“Option two”, he says softly, his mouth so close to her head that she can feel his breath grazing the shell of her ear.

“Learn how to fall.”

The curls at the nape of her neck are damp with sweat.

“I think there is a third one.”, Raven says, before jabbing the elbow of her free arm into his ribs.

The sudden blow seems to take him by surprise. She manages to writhe out of his grip and turn around, knocking him off balance.

It’s only when she has him on his back, her thighs straddling him on either side that she realizes that she has transformed, the hands pressing down onto his forearms covered in blue scales.

“Option three: Learn how to get back up after you fall down.”, she says.

She can feel the rumble of laughter vibrating through his body.

“A favourite of mine, for sure.”, Erik says.

Later, when they are getting ready to leave for the day, he stops her in the doorway.

“You can choose a life that doesn’t require any of those skills.”, he says, very quietly.

For a disconcerting second she wonders if this is Charles speaking through him before chalking the thought up to paranoia. Living with a telepath will do that to you.

“A life of pretending to be something I’m not.”

“Many people do.”, he says.

“I’d rather get kicked in the teeth than hold my head down for fear of fighting.”, she says, surprised by the vehemence of her words.

“I mean, would you be who you are without the blows that life gave you?”

“People are drawn to the whole, not the damaged, Raven. Being bruised will certainly not ensure you a lifetime of happiness.”

She huffs.

“So, you’re saying no one will ever love me because I choose to fight for, for who I am?

He leans in.

“Your scars are the best thing about you. And every person who fails to see that is a fool.”

Later, when there are guns fired and bridges burned, she thinks of this day a lot.

Maybe Charles believes that she goes with Erik because he is the charismatic, intriguing one. That by the time she has to chose, she is half-drunk of the compliments, the attention, like a little girl with a crush.

The truth is: She doesn’t go with Erik on that day on the beach.

They just happen to move in the same direction.

  Read Part 2.


scribblemyname: mood: frostscribble_myname on July 14th, 2011 03:18 pm (UTC)
Gah. Gorgeous. This is rich and enticing and written between the lines and all my favorite things about fic and it gives my girls back their danger, my favorite thing about them.