#eeik is such an intricate character and trying to get him right when you write him is..... a challenge

[imarvelatthestars]

Zise: (In) The Beginning

Notes: Set during X-Men: 1st Class. This is my attempt at filling the severely lacking amount of Jewish!Readers in Erik's tag.

"Zise" means a sweet person in Yiddish.

Pairings: Erik Lensherr x Jewish!Reader

Warnings: feminine language used to refer to reader

Part 2

"Curious place."

Charles glances across the taxi at his friend and smiles. "I quite like it," he muses. "The river, the hills, the trees." He cant catch Erik's eyes, but he tries anyway. "How long has it been? Since you've visited one?"

Erik's voice is smaller than he's ever heard it when he finally answers, "A very long time." But there's an unspoken implication that says it's been long enough that he simply doesn't remember anymore.

"Will you be alright, Erik?"

The taxi comes to a stop, jolting the pair forward in their seats before Erik has a chance to answer. He considers Charles and his question for a moment, but the firm line of his mouth is a clear indication that the conversation is over. Erik clambers onto the pavement while Charles pays the driver, and he can't help worrying that this visit may be difficult for Erik, that it may reawaken a slew of painful memories for his friend. He can only hope that coming here won't be a mistake.

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The bell above the door chimes as it swings open and you look up from your desk with a jerk, quickly pushing your book under the closest stack of papers. You wouldn't want anyone to think you're bored or, arguably worse, slacking off on the clock. So you greet the two visitors with a welcoming smile.

"Welcome, gentlemen. What can I do for you?"

The man on your left, a bit shorter than his companion and with a smidge more hair, offers you a charming smile. "My name is Charles Xavier and this is my friend, Erik Lensherr." His friend nods in your direction. "We're looking for a young lady, perhaps you can help us? I believe she works here."

"Of course. What's her name?"

You start to pull out a pad of paper and a pen, expecting them to ask for the rabbi's wife or the other girl who works in the office part-time and you're fully prepared to give them a phone number or address to aid their search, but instead they ask for you. By name. Your pen scratches along the pad as you look up at the man on the right, the tall one who said your name.

"That's you, isn't it?" says the shorter one, Charles. He has his forefinger pressed to his temple.

"Why?" you ask as you look between the two. You're trying your best to keep your voice as normal sounding as possible in case your nerves are getting the better of you.

Suddenly, you realize that you don't know why these men are here. You don't recognize them and they both have foreign accents. It could be nothing, but it could also be something. Something awful. This is, after all, the only shul in town and you're no stranger to threats of violence that end in shutting the whole place down for days or weeks at a time.

Charles still has his finger pressed to his temple, his eyes distant yet still focused on you. Like he's not really looking at you. The other man, Erik, is frowning slightly, eyes searching emptily for something you can't comprehend with his head tilted to one side. Then he blinks and he looks right at you, and you wilt under the intensity of his gaze.

"Please," he says as he steps toward you with an arm outstretched, "don't be alarmed." The pen in your hand wobbles, then suddenly flies up and over the desk into his waiting hand. He smiles and the pen floats back to you until it rests atop the paper. "You have a gift, like we do, and we're here to ask your help. Offer you a job."

There's a million thoughts running through your head, so fast and so loud that you can hardly wade through them. Did he actually just levitate a pen? How did he do that? Does that mean he's like you, with a secret power that manipulates the world around you? What else can he do? How could your own powers measure up to his? How did they even know about you or where to find you? Why-?

We can answer all your questions if you choose to come with us.

It's Charles, the one who keeps touching his temple. His voice is inside your head.

Charles grins and shakes his head. "We both thought so about ourselves for a very long time," he says aloud, "but there are so many more of us out there. Mutants with gifts you couldn't even begin to imagine."

"I thought I was the only one."

You frown. "Is that what we are? Mutants?"

"Yes. And we could really use your help."

This is all starting to getting a little too bizarre. It's making the vein above your eye start to tick. And what's all this about them needing your help? For what? What could you possibly have to offer a couple of strange, inexplicably gifted men?

"Why don't you show us?" Charles prompts, his voice soft and low.

With a fleeting thought somewhere along the lines of 'this might as well happen', you stand up and reach out for the vase of half wilted flowers at the edge of the desk. You focus your mind on the details of each petal, the way the leaves crimp and curl after being without water for a few days, how the stems are bent near the bottom from the force of being haphazardly shoved in, and you get to work. The familiar tingling sensation of something emanating from your soul all the way down your fingers and through the air into the flowers brings the ghost of a smile to your lips. It's been too long since you last used your abilities, long enough that you'd forgotten the bliss that came with it. When you snap out of your trance a few moments later, the stems of each flower have thickened, the leaves unfurled and now a rich shade of green, their missing petals have regrown and each bud is blossoming brilliantly and fragrantly as if they'd been picked from a greenhouse moments ago. And although you hadn't meant to, a new flower has grown in the center of the bouquet - a red rose still in the process of opening its bud.

You glance about the room to ensure that no one had entered the room and seen what you'd done. The last thing you need is for the rabbi to walk in on you performing magic tricks for visitors. But instead of the usual panic you feel after using your powers, you feel a sense of peace begin to settle in your chest. It feels good not to hide, to have your talents sought after. And when you finally find the courage to look Erik and Charles in the eyes, your face flushes with heat; they look proud, impressed, happy.

"Remarkable," says Charles.

And Erik nods. "Quite." His eyes are the bluest blue you've ever seen.

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Just an hour later, you're in your bedroom, frantically cramming your clothes, siddur, and toiletries into your suitcase while Charles and Erik chat with your parents in the living room. You keep replaying the phone call with the rabbi's wife in your head, over and over again, wondering if you've just made a terrible mistake. You'd given her a hug and a kiss on the cheek in thanks for covering the rest of your shift, and in farewell, and promised you'd explain everything soon before hurrying out of the shul hot on Erik and Charles's heels. What would she think? What would she tell her husband? What would your family and the rest of the community whisper when you didn't return on time from your mysterious visit to D.C. with the equally mysterious federal agents?

A sudden knock at your door jolts you from your downward spiral and you lift your head in time to see Erik open the door. "Pardon my intrusion, but Charles could hear you panicking." He taps a finger against his head and almost smiles. "I thought perhaps you could use some company."

From what you can tell, Erik is a kind man. Patient, observant. You appreciate it more than you feel comfortable admitting.

"Thank you."

"It's nothing to be scared of, you know. This Division X thing."

Easy for him to say, but you mostly believe him. He is, after all, just like you. Different. Both of them.

"I can't say you'll fit in very well, though."

Something hot sparks in your throat and you turn to face him, brows furrowed and your mouth already open, but he's grinning.

You huff, hands on your hips. "Why would you say that?" you demand.

Erik rubs his chin as he bites back his laughter. "Because none of the other recruits are quite as frum as you are."

The world seems to come to a halt and you're torn between frustration and shock. Why the hell is he mocking you? Where does he even find the audacity to do so in your own home? But then... how would he even know the word 'frum' if he isn't-?

"I-I didn't know you were-..." Your eyes are starting to water. "Erik, I-."

That's when you realize that he isn't mocking you, he's just teasing. Because he's Jewish. And if you could, you'd throw your arms around him and hug him within an inch of his life.

"I'm glad you're coming with us," he says, your name a pleasant ending to his sentence.

You have no idea what's in store for you, but you feel twice as brave as you did an hour ago. Division X, mutant abilities, this mysterious mission you've been recruited for, it all seems insignificant compared to the knowledge that you won't be alone anymore. Because Erik will be there too.

#erik lehnsherr x reader #magneto x reader #erik lehnsherr #magneto #x-men #marvel #jewish reader #eeik is such an intricate character and trying to get him right when you write him is..... a challenge