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urdreamydoodles · 9 months ago

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X-Men x Reader (Part.3)

You smacks their ass as they walk past (Part.3)

Each X-Man reacts with a mix of surprise and playful teasing when you smacks their ass as they walk past, leading to affectionate and mischievous moments.

Characters: Wade Wilson, Sunspot, Cable, Colossus, Charles Xavier, Hank McCoy, Lorna Dane, Magik, Domino & Dazzler

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

Wade Wilson is the epitome of chaos wrapped in a red-and-black suit. You’ve been dating him for months now, and no matter how absurd or unpredictable things get, there’s one constant—you can always make each other laugh. Today, though, you’ve got something else in mind.

The two of you are lounging in his apartment—well, “apartment” is generous. It’s more like a collection of random objects held together by duct tape and a lack of responsibility. Wade, in full suit minus the mask, is rummaging through the fridge, muttering something about expired tacos.

“Damn it, even my healing factor can’t fix this,” he groans, pulling out a carton of spoiled milk and making a face.

You casually stroll behind him, biting your lip as you admire his figure. Wade may have scars that tell stories of countless battles and regeneration, but to you, he’s perfect. As he bends over to inspect the deeper horrors of his fridge, you decide to strike.

With a playful smirk, you swing your hand and smack his ass, a sharp, satisfying sound echoing through the room. Wade freezes for a split second, then slowly stands up straight, turning his head toward you with that signature Deadpool swagger.

“Did you just—” He breaks off, his eyes narrowing behind an imaginary mask. “Are you initiating some sexy roleplay? Because I am always ready for that.”

You laugh, giving him a sly grin as you cross your arms. “Maybe I am. What are you gonna do about it?”

Wade spins around fully, leaning against the fridge door with his arms crossed. His voice drops to a teasing whisper, but his grin is wide and wicked. “Oh, baby, you just opened Pandora’s box. And by Pandora’s box, I mean my pants. Wanna see what’s inside?”

You roll your eyes, but the heat between you is undeniable. His playful banter never fails to make your heart race, even in moments like this. He steps closer, his voice growing softer and more intimate, as if the whole world outside of you two didn’t matter.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his hand brushing lightly against your waist. “If you keep smacking me like that, I’m gonna have to make sure you pay for it.”

You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head slightly. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

Wade’s mouth curves into a dangerous smile. “Oh, it’s both.”

Sunspot (Roberto da Costa):

The sun was shining brightly over Xavier’s Mansion as Roberto da Costa strutted across the garden. Dressed in a sleek tank top and joggers, his toned muscles glistened with a faint golden glow—a byproduct of absorbing too much solar energy. You’d been dating Roberto for almost a year now, and one thing you knew about him was that he was as confident as he was powerful.

You were standing near the flower beds, watching him from behind as he headed toward the training grounds, admiring the effortless grace in his movements. He looked good, and you couldn’t resist messing with him a little.

Without thinking too much, you saunter up behind him, letting your fingertips glide along his back. Before he can react, you bring your hand down firmly on his ass, the sound of the playful smack hanging in the air.

Roberto stops dead in his tracks, turning around slowly with one eyebrow raised and an amused smile playing on his lips. His eyes smolder as they meet yours, and you can see the fire of his powers flicker briefly under his skin.

“Did you just slap my ass?” he asks, his Brazilian accent thickening just slightly. He looks equal parts shocked and entertained.

You grin at him, leaning casually against a nearby tree. “Yeah, I did. What are you gonna do about it, hot stuff?”

Roberto chuckles, his lips curling into a grin that could melt ice. He closes the distance between you with two slow, purposeful steps, his gaze trailing over your figure like he’s sizing up a prize. “Oh, princesa, you’re playing with fire,” he says, his voice a low, teasing rumble.

He steps even closer, his hand brushing against your hip, fingers gently squeezing your waist as he leans in. His breath is warm against your ear, and his voice drops even lower. “You think I’m just gonna let you get away with that?”

You smile, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes. “What if I do it again?”

Roberto’s eyes flash with amusement and heat. He pulls back slightly, running a hand through his dark hair before grinning at you. “You keep that up, and I’m gonna have to show you just how hot I can get.”

You bite your lip, enjoying the playful tension between you two. Roberto always knew how to turn a simple moment into something electric. His hand slips from your waist to the small of your back as he leans in once more, this time his lips brushing the corner of your mouth.

“Careful, meu amor,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I might just burn for you.”

Cable (Nathan Summers):

Nathan Summers, or Cable, was a man of discipline. Everything about him was precise, methodical, controlled—even the way he moved through the halls of the X-Mansion was calculated. His towering frame and gruff demeanor had always been intimidating to others, but you’d gotten to know the man beneath the soldier—the tenderness hidden under the scars and metal arm.

He was walking ahead of you, carrying a stack of mission reports as you admired the way his broad shoulders stretched his worn-out tactical vest. His silver hair fell slightly over his brow as he made his way to the War Room, but you had other plans.

The idea strikes you out of nowhere. Without giving it a second thought, you quicken your pace and reach out, landing a firm smack on his ass. It’s a bold move—one that surprises even you—but the sound it makes is deeply satisfying.

Nathan stops abruptly. The air in the corridor feels charged, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve gone too far. Slowly, he turns to look at you, his one good eye narrowing while the other—the glowing cybernetic one—flares slightly.

“Really?” His voice is a deep, gravelly growl, but there’s a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

You shrug innocently, biting back a smile. “What? Just appreciating the view.”

Nathan’s smirk deepens as he places the stack of reports down on a nearby table, his gaze never leaving yours. He takes a step toward you, and you can feel the shift in the air—the intensity radiating off of him. He’s always been a man of action, not words, and right now, you can practically feel his unspoken thoughts.

“You know, you just earned yourself some extra training,” he rumbles, his voice low and rough. His metal hand rests on your shoulder, the coolness of it contrasting with the heat that simmers between you.

“Oh?” You tilt your head up, grinning. “And what kind of training is that?”

Nathan leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “The kind where you won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow.”

You feel a shiver run down your spine, but you hold your ground, meeting his intense gaze with a challenging look of your own. “I’m not scared, Summers.”

His grin widens slightly as he straightens up, his large frame towering over you. “Good,” he says, his voice filled with a promise that sends your heart racing. “I’d be disappointed if you were.”

Colossus (Piotr Rasputin):

Piotr Rasputin was as gentle as he was strong. His towering, metal-clad form gave him an imposing presence, but you knew better than anyone that beneath the gleaming steel exterior was a heart of gold. Today, he was busy lifting crates in the garage, preparing for a mission with the X-Men. You watched him from across the room, admiring the way his metal muscles flexed with every effortless movement.

His back was to you as he carried one of the crates, and you couldn’t resist. With a mischievous smirk, you crept up behind him and gave his metal butt a solid smack. The loud clang of your hand meeting his metal hide was oddly satisfying, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

Piotr froze in place, the crate still balanced on one shoulder. Slowly, he turned his head to look at you over his massive shoulder, his silver face full of surprise. His steel-blue eyes blinked a few times, clearly processing what had just happened.

"Did you just… hit me?" His thick Russian accent carried a mix of amusement and confusion.

You grinned up at him, crossing your arms. "Sure did. What are you gonna do about it, big guy?"

Piotr set the crate down with a heavy thud and turned to fully face you, towering above you like a mountain of metal. A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest, and he shook his head, a playful smile spreading across his face.

"You are very bold, my love," he said, his voice deep and warm. He took a step closer, and even though he was metal, there was a tenderness in his movements. His massive hands reached out and rested gently on your hips, his fingers surprisingly gentle against your body.

"But be careful," he teased, lowering his voice. "If you start something… you may not be able to finish it."

You raised an eyebrow, meeting his playful challenge with a grin. "Oh, I think I can handle it."

Piotr chuckled again, his hands tightening slightly on your hips as he leaned down, his towering form enveloping you. His lips brushed against your forehead, a soft metallic kiss that sent a shiver down your spine.

"We shall see," he murmured, his breath warm despite his steel skin.

Charles Xavier:

Charles Xavier, the brilliant mind behind the X-Men, had always captivated you with his wisdom and charm. Though bound to his wheelchair, his mental prowess and calm demeanor always drew people to him, yourself included. You loved the quiet moments with him, where his sharp wit and gentle sense of humor made you forget the weight of the world.

It was a quiet afternoon in his study, the two of you enjoying a rare moment of peace. Charles was at his desk, reviewing files on potential new students, his brow furrowed in concentration. You watched him, a smile tugging at your lips as you admired the calm authority he exuded.

Feeling playful, you strolled up behind him. As you passed his wheelchair, you couldn’t resist giving his backside a light smack—just a gentle tap, but enough to break his concentration.

Charles’s hand paused mid-air over the files, and you saw the slightest flicker of surprise in his expression. Slowly, he turned his head to look at you, his sharp blue eyes filled with both amusement and curiosity.

"Did you just smack me?" His tone was calm, but there was a subtle smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You grinned down at him, leaning against the side of his desk. "Maybe I did. Are you going to reprimand me for it, Professor?"

His smile widened, and he raised a single eyebrow, the hint of a laugh escaping his lips. "That would require telepathic punishment, my dear."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Is that a threat or an offer?"

Charles placed the files down carefully, folding his hands in his lap as he looked up at you with a playful glint in his eyes. "I never make threats. Only promises."

He leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze locking with yours. “But I should warn you—if you’re not careful, I may have to enter your mind and… change your attitude.”

The playful banter sent a thrill through you, and you bit your lip, feigning innocence. “You wouldn’t.”

Charles’s smile softened, and he tilted his head, his expression calm but full of affection. “No. I would never change anything about you, not even for a moment.”

His hand reached out and gently took yours, his touch warm and reassuring. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t get back at you in other ways.”

You grinned, knowing that even without his telepathy, Charles had plenty of ways to keep things interesting.

Beast (Hank McCoy):

Hank McCoy, was always buried in some kind of experiment in his lab. His brilliant mind and strong, furry blue body made for a striking combination, and over the years, you’d come to love both sides of him equally—the intellectual and the feral. Today, he was engrossed in yet another experiment, the scent of chemicals and the soft hum of machines filling the room.

You watched him from the doorway, his large blue frame hunched over a table, muttering to himself as he scribbled notes on a clipboard. His back was to you, and you couldn’t resist the mischievous urge bubbling inside you.

With a playful grin, you walked up behind him and gave his furry blue ass a firm smack. The sound was muffled by his thick fur, but the impact was enough to make him stop mid-sentence.

Hank straightened up immediately, his large, pointed ears twitching slightly as he turned his head to glance over his shoulder, his golden eyes wide with surprise. “Did… did you just swat me?” His voice held a mix of amusement and disbelief.

You crossed your arms and smiled sweetly at him. “Maybe I did. What are you gonna do about it, Dr. McCoy?”

Hank blinked a few times, his large, clawed hands still gripping the clipboard, before a slow grin spread across his face. He turned fully to face you, standing to his full towering height, and you could see the playful glint in his eyes.

“Well,” he rumbled, his voice deep and smooth, “I must say, this is certainly an unexpected interruption to my research.”

He took a step toward you, his large furry hand reaching out to gently cup your chin. “But if you wanted my attention, my dear, there are far more… civilized ways of asking for it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, placing your hands on his broad chest, feeling the soft fur beneath your fingers. “And where’s the fun in that?”

Hank chuckled softly, his golden eyes gleaming with affection as he gazed down at you. “Ah, I see. A woman of action, not words.”

He leaned down, his warm breath brushing against your cheek as his voice dropped to a low, teasing whisper. “I should warn you, though… you may have unleashed a beast.”

You grinned up at him, biting your lip. “Is that a promise?”

Hank’s chuckle was deep and rumbling, and he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Indeed, my love. Indeed.”

Polaris (Lorna Dane):

Lorna is in the middle of assembling something mechanical in the garage, her green hair pulled back into a messy ponytail as she concentrates on manipulating the metal parts with her powers. You watch her for a moment, admiring how easily she bends the metal to her will. With a mischievous grin, you decide to get her attention in your own way, walking by and giving her a light smack on the ass.

The metal pieces she was working on clatter to the floor as Lorna whips around, eyes wide with surprise. "Y/N!" she gasps, though there’s a growing smile on her lips. "Did you seriously just do that?"

You shrug, unable to hide your grin. "What? I couldn’t resist."

Lorna raises an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk as she steps closer, her fingers beginning to crackle with green energy. "You forget I can control metal, right?" she teases, playfully levitating a nearby wrench into the air, spinning it lazily in her hand. "I could trap you in a metal cocoon right now if I wanted to."

You chuckle, stepping toward her. "But you won’t," you say confidently, knowing she’s more amused than mad.

She narrows her eyes at you, her smirk widening. "Oh, really?" she says, her tone teasing but her powers very much under control. She playfully pulls you toward her with a slight magnetic force, her arms wrapping around your neck as she leans in close. "Just don’t think you’ll get away with that every time," she murmurs before pressing her lips to yours, the slight hum of her powers in the air adding a spark to the moment.

Magik (Illyana Rasputina):

Illyana stands in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets, clearly looking for something. You watch her with a smile, enjoying her no-nonsense attitude that contrasts with her ethereal, otherworldly beauty. As she reaches for something on the top shelf, you can’t help but walk by and give her a quick smack on the ass, a playful grin on your face.

She freezes, her hand still in the cabinet, and you can practically feel the shift in energy as she turns her head to look at you, her eyes glowing faintly with power. "Y/N," she says, her voice low, almost a warning. "Do you really want to test me like that?"

You chuckle, shrugging casually. "Just thought I’d see what happens."

Illyana steps down from the counter and turns to face you fully, her sword suddenly materializing in her hand in a flash of light. "You’re playing a dangerous game," she says with a wicked smile, her eyes filled with mischief. "I could teleport you to Limbo in an instant, you know."

You step closer, undeterred by her threat, knowing she enjoys the back-and-forth as much as you do. "And yet, I’m still standing here."

Her grin widens, and the sword disappears just as quickly as it appeared. "Maybe because I like having you around," she admits softly, stepping closer until she’s right in front of you, her fingers brushing your arm. "But don’t think I’ll let you get away with that easily."

Before you can respond, she pulls you into a kiss, her lips soft but commanding, a reminder of just how powerful she is and how lucky you are to have her by your side.

Domino (Neena Thurman):

Domino lounges on the couch, flipping through channels with a bored expression on her face. Her luck powers have a way of making life feel a little too easy sometimes, but you’ve always admired her laid-back attitude and sharp sense of humor. As you walk by, you decide to spice things up, giving her a playful smack on the ass as you pass.

Domino’s hand freezes on the remote, her mismatched eyes widening in surprise before she slowly turns to look at you. "Oh, so that’s how we’re playing today, huh?" she says, her voice dripping with amusement as she raises an eyebrow. "You’ve got some nerve, Y/N."

You chuckle, leaning against the back of the couch. "Just keeping things interesting."

Domino smirks, setting the remote down and shifting to sit up straight, her gaze locked on you. "Well, you just made things very interesting, sweetheart," she says, standing up and sauntering toward you with that confident, swaggering stride that makes your pulse quicken.

She stops right in front of you, her fingers tracing lightly along your arm. "You know, with my luck, I could turn this around on you in a heartbeat," she teases, her smirk growing wider. "But I think I’ll let you off the hook…for now."

Before you can respond, she grabs the front of your shirt and pulls you in for a kiss, her lips firm and full of playful energy. "Just don’t get too comfortable," she murmurs against your lips, pulling back slightly to give you a teasing grin. "Next time, I might not be so nice."

Dazzler (Alison Blaire):

Alison is sitting in front of her vanity, adjusting her makeup for the show she’s performing later. Her iconic silver jumpsuit glitters under the soft lights, and as she hums quietly to herself, she’s completely engrossed in her preparations. You smile, watching her for a moment, before deciding to stir things up a little. As you walk by, you casually smack her on the ass.

Alison lets out a surprised laugh, her brush slipping from her hand as she turns around to face you. "Y/N!" she says, her voice a mix of playful shock and amusement. "What do you think you’re doing?"

You grin, leaning against the doorframe. "Just appreciating the view."

She raises an eyebrow, a smirk forming on her lips as she turns back to the mirror. "Appreciating the view, huh? Well, next time maybe you could ask nicely."

She finishes touching up her makeup before standing and crossing the room toward you, her hips swaying just a little extra as she walks. "But you know," she says, her voice dropping slightly, "I can give you something even better to appreciate."

Alison steps up to you, her hands resting lightly on your chest as she looks up at you with a teasing smile. "But you’ve got to earn it, babe," she adds, her fingers trailing down your arm in a slow, deliberate motion. "You think you can handle that?"

Her playful challenge makes your heart race, and as she leans in to kiss you softly, her lips warm and sweet, you know that with Alison, there’s never a dull moment.

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fandomnerd9602 · 5 months ago

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Y/n marrying wanda and Lorna feeling quicksilver watching him

Lorna: it’s so amazing! We are so lucky!

Wanda; I know! I cannot believe it!

The girls scream in excitement as they stand at the altar with Y/N…

Pietro: I can’t believe it either…Ring bearer?! Why could I not be best man?!

#marvel #marvel fluff #marvel imagine #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #marvel incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #lorna dane #Lorna Dane x reader #scarlet witch #polaris #pietro maximoff #quicksilver

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tabathastan · 5 months ago

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Being the Mother of Pietro, Wanda and Lorna

I know that Lorna has a different mother than the maximoff twins, but this is a fanfic so anything can happen. :)

Your relationship with Erik was passionate and sweet and very sexual which led you to have three kids with him.

first it was the twins, they were both a handful since it was also your first pregnancy.

but they made your magic act up during the pregnancy at the end of it. (similar to wanda’s in wandavision.)

but in the end they both were your pride and joy, wanda had your powers (but they weren’t a blue like yours), pietro was your twin he acted more like you and looked like you as well.

a year or two after the twins you find out that you were pregnant with another child.

this time it wasn’t twins, but another daughter. her powers were similar to yours and erik’s. green magic that could control metal like her father.

all of your children were at your hip not wanting to leave your side, but your girls were definitely there father’s daughter.

#x reader #mcu x reader #lorna dane #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #erik lehnsherr #erik lensherr x reader #magneto #magneto x reader #scarlet witch #quicksilver #polaris

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cherryberry-sugarandspice · 11 months ago

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King Magnus

So I am obsessed with King Magnus. I'm not sure why. I just am.

So just a little lore building.

Obviously he rules over Genosha. He has a concubine (which is reader) and two consorts, Agatha and Anna Marie.

He has good relations with King Doom. Their kingdoms are not merged, but they make trades and will offer support in times of need. The only way to merge kingdoms is if Princess Wanda and King Doom marries, but Wanda is not seeking his hand in marriage, no matter how many times he proposes.

Prince Pietro is down in Alantis to help with negotiations. Princess Lorna helps assists the guards to maintain the safety of the castle.

King Magnus takes good care of his kingdom. He's a stern king but he is not cruel.

This is what king Magnus wears and what his bedroom looks like.

I'm taking more inspiration from House of M 2015, so expect him to look like this

Concubine!Reader used to be a dancer before given the opportunity to become his concubine. She was his favorite dancer, seeking out only her for private dances. He gave her one and final offer, as he didn't want to pester her nor make her uncomfortable, and these were the conditions of being his concubine

Reader lives a lavish life at the castle free of responsibilities.

Body decorated in jewelry.

Dressed in skimpy clothes for his eyes only.

Anywhere he wants, he'll have her right then and there.

No touching herself. Only he (and his consorts) are allowed to bring her pleasure. They prefer it that way.

Wearing his symbol as a tramp stamp, to show everyone who his concubine belongs to and who brings her great pleasure.

Reader happily accepts and she is well taken care of. Bathed in milk and honey, relaxing baths, massages, fed bountiful meals, and is kept soft with lotions. She has her own room and lounge in the castle.

King Magnus wanted an heir, so he fucked his Concubine over and over again until she was pregnant.

Agatha and Anna Marie are his consorts, who are as well taken care of. They have a lounge and their own separate rooms.

All three women spend time together by having tea in the gardens or going for strolls in the gardens. With the escort of the King or a member of S.H.I.E.L.D, the girls go out to roam Genosha, visiting their favorite shops.

I will write short stories here and head canons, and also stories on AO3. I'll link everything below:

King Magnus:

King's Concubine

Being His Concubine

King Magnus 1

King Magnus 2

King Magnus 3

King Magnus 4

King Magnus 5

King Magnus Breeding Kink

Head Canons

King Magnus 6

King Magnus 7

Castle:

Castle Gardens

Wanda's Cottage

The Consorts:

The Consorts Dresses

The Consorts

Consorts and Concubine

The Magnet Siblings:

Princess Wanda

Princess Lorna

Prince Pietro

The Princess and The Knight with a Heart of Gold:

A Fleeting Moment

The Princess's Turmoil

Head Canons

Smut HC

First Time

At Their Cottage

As Parents HC

First Meeting

Knight Simon:

Knight Simon

Sworn In

The Princess Who's More Than:

Not Just a Princess

Tea with Agatha

Future Queen (?)

Before Meeting

Au within Au:

Maid!Reader

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scarltzwitch · 11 months ago

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So, I was thinking that once I finish the commissions, I plan to create a mini-series where the reader is Magneto's daughter and the third Maximoff sibling, sort of like triplets in this case, and that during the events of *Days of Future Past*, she falls in love with Logan, but she's afraid of being rejected, and so on and Erik still doesn't know that they are his children, but Hank, Charles, and Logan, as well as Mystique, know the Maximoff secret.

What do you think about this idea? Would you read it if I make it? I'll read each one of your responses, so please, let me know what you think.

[ THE SCARLET WITCH MASTERLIST ]

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annmaximoff18 · 1 year ago

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Lorna: [Having a breakdown]

Wanda: Hmmm. I never thought I’d have to say this.

Wanda: But there is only space in this family for ONE unstable family member.

Wanda: And I’ve held that title for a very long time so you’re going to have to get it together.

#headcanon #imagine #incorrect marvel quotes #marvel mcu #mcu #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wandavision #wanda maximoff #polaris #lorna dane #lorna dane x reader #x men comics #x men #gifted #the gifted

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hiraet3h · 3 months ago

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Alate { Pietro Maximoff x FEM!Reader }

Alate - Adjective (Latin) |

~ Having wings; lifted up in flight

Summery:

"The past dripped slowly in places like this—quiet, empty, and full of ghosts. The ground doesn’t forgive, it just waits."

An 'impromptu' encounter with a boy she never quite really knew. And a man she never had any interest in meeting.

Too bad they were the same person.

Pairings: Primarily: Pietro Maximoff/Fem!Reader, Slight John Allerdyce/Fem!reader, Slight Remy LeBeau/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 11.5K

Warnings: strong language, canon typical violence, reader gets hurt, smoking, cigarettes, bad bird puns/nicknames, Use of (Y/n)! I'm sorry if that bothers you, but i use it quite a bit, Pietro being an asshole, Reader is also an asshole to be fair, Gambit and Pyro too honestly, so everyone really, an excessive use of em dashes, Reader has curly hair! It's pretty vague and not specified what kind of curls, but it's mentioned a couple times! other than that, her appearance is pretty neutral i think. Let me know if I forgot something!

Fic Type: Oneshot/standalone

Author's Note: Omg! this is the first time i'll ever be posting to tumblr, and it being my shitty fanfic is kinda nerve-wracking! I've posted on Ao3 and Wattpad before, but tumblr always intimidated me for some reason. But there are SOOO many incredible writers on here, and i thought someone else might appreciate a non movieverse/fox/MCU Pietro x reader, so i decided to post it here as well! I hope it makes someone out there happy as well!

Anyways, this take place in a semi -alternate AU? In the way that, i didn't quite have a specific variation of Pietro or the x-men universe i was writing for. It's a mesh between an aged up X-men Evolution AU and the Wolverine and the X-men universe. With some comic elements thrown in. So it's my playground essentially.

This fic will also be available on AO3! I have other nonsense on my AO3 if the curiosity ever strikes and you want to check it out!

Please, if anyone wants to chat about anything, my door is always open!

The wind carried more than cold that night. It howled like a wounded creature through the hollow veins of the abandoned train yard, weaving around rusted steel and splintered wood and forsaken motors with a kind of sorrow only old places knew. (Y/n) stood near the skeletal remains of a cargo car, arms crossed, her shadow carved in sharp lines by the moonlight above. She found comfort in places like these. In places filled with things long abandoned and things that should have been. A feeling of tragedy she couldn't help but chase. A masochistic tendency she’d hoped she would have outgrown in her adolescence but had unfortunately been a habit that had followed her into adulthood.

Maybe she found comfort in things and places and stories she could relate to.

Romanticizing life, or whatever the hell the kids were calling it these days.

She hopped onto the train tracks, her arms outstretched to her sides in an attempt to keep her balance as she walked along the stealrail of the track, as though she was a tightrope walker, dangling dangerously on the brink of doom and death.

A single misstep and she’d be gone, and nothing but her memory would remain, before that too would inevitably wade out of existence, time chipping away at the ghost she used to be.

The metal creaked under her boots like it remembered her from all those years ago—like it knew she didn’t belong to war or missions or field assignments. Not really.

But she'd always show up anyway.

"You’re late, L/N."

The voice skittered through the dark, cocky and cruel and cold, like a blade dragged across glass.

A sharp exhale through her nose.

She didn’t turn. She didn’t need to.

The air told her he was close. It always did, vibrating with the static of him, with the feeling of electricity that he would leave in his wake and upon his arrival. With a disruption in the winds as it bowed to his whims.

"Punctuality has never been your thing, has it?" she replied, dry. "I figured if I gave you an extra ten minutes, you'd still manage to make an entrance."

In a blink, he was standing where moonlight met shadow—just on the edge of it, and the light of a street lamp which was miraculously still working save for the occasional flicker before being resurrected by the currents running in the wiring.

Quicksilver. Pietro Maximoff.

Silver hair tousled like he’d just stepped out of a storm, windswept and wild but in a way that looked intentional and effortless all at once. And smirking, of course. Always smirking. His eyes were electric with the kind of arrogance only someone who could outrun time itself had any right to wield.

"Nightingale," he drawled, crossing his arms with exaggerated ease as he leaned against the streetlamp with a casual grace that could only be achieved by a man who had been trained in combat for years upon years. A confidence that came with self assurance and a pride that wasn’t completely unearned "Did you miss me?"

She rolled her eyes. “Like a migraine.”

"Oof. And here I thought we were finally building something resembling camaraderie."

"No, but we can build something else entirely. Like a coffin for you to lie in. Or your gravestone. If you’re here to finally do the honors and give me the relief that would come with you dropping dead.”

He chuckled, stepping closer with the kind of laid-back threat that came from someone who didn’t need to try hard to be dangerous. "Come on, (L/n). You think anyone else could put up with your holier-than-thou shtick and still show up like clockwork?"

Her jaw tightened. Her glare was met with a look of mirth. A punchable one, if she was able to say so herself.

"Why are you here, Maximoff?"

“Birdwatching,” he says, a smug grin playing on his lips. He looked proud of that one.

She gives him a bored look, unamused.

He rolls his eyes at her, not at all intimidated, nor deterred. And he had not enough shame to ever feel a lick of embarrassment, so that was out of the question as well, despite his ill-received pun.

“C’mon, that was a good one. Even you have to admit it.”

She spins on her heels, ready to walk away from him, and this train yard and the whole useless encounter, when his voice stops her in her tracks before she’s made more than a couple feet away.

“Magneto wants a word,” Pietro said suddenly, almost too casually.

She turned slowly, narrowing her eyes. He remained at ease.

“Then he should send someone with better people skills.”

He chuckled. “He did. I’m charming. Ask literally anyone.”

“Not your ex-wife, I presume.”

That got a crack in his cool, his brows furrowing and a frown marred his lips quickly. It filled her with a satisfaction she’s not proud of.

“Low blow,” he muttered, eyes flashing. “He wants to make you an offer.”

“No.”

“You haven’t heard it yet.”

“I don’t need to.”

Pietro tilted his head, undeterred, voice still carrying humor of a joke she wasn’t in on. “You always this stubborn, or is it just around me?”

“I know how he sees people. How he turns them into pieces on a board. I’m not interested in being another one of his knights, thanks.”

“You’d be a rook, if anything,” he said, thoughtful. “Straight lines. Limited. Boring.”

“Funny, coming from a pawn.”

That one seemed to have also landed. His jaw clenched, but only for a second

He recovered with a grin. “You used to be more fun, birdie.”.

“And you’ve always been annoying.”

He sighs. And rubs the back of his neck, his eyes closing for a brief reprieve from her insults.

“Look, he only wants to talk right now. There’s no harm in a conversation, right?”

She stepped back. Not far. But enough. Enough to make the space between them suddenly mean something deliberate.

"Not interested."

"Didn’t ask if you were," he said smoothly, straightening and taking a step forward to reclaim lost distance "Only told you what’s happening."

"Not to me, it’s not."

She turned as if to leave, but in a flash, he was in front of her again. This time closer. Too close. She could feel the charge in the air between them. Like standing beside a live wire. He towered over her, and she was face to chest with him. She tilts her head up to meet his eyes, and his gaze is firm. Jaw tight and lips pressed into a firm line, almost resembling a frown but not quite.

It seems her jeers and refusal were getting to him. Good.

"I’m not here to play tag, (L/n). I’m here to bring you in."

She blinked. Slowly. As if the words themselves needed processing.

Then her laugh—a low, bitter thing—cracked through the lighting-tension like a sharp knife.

“You're pathetic. Running after daddy’s approval by doing tasks he couldn't be bothered to do himself.”

His jaw tensed. Just a flicker. But she saw it. She knew all his sore spots. That one was particularly tender, she knew.

"You think I have a choice?" he said quietly.

"You always do." Her voice was sharper now. Not louder, but colder. "You just stopped pretending to care."

Pietro's expression shifted then—like clouds over the moon. Not anger. Not yet. But the storm was there, gathering behind his eyes.

"You think you know anything about choices, L/N? You, with your perfect little X-men who’ll pat you on the back every time you try and fail to throw a punch? You don’t know what it’s like to be needed by someone who only values what you can do, not who you are."

Her jaw tenses at his words of vulnerability. But she knew a farce when she saw one. He wasn't going to emotionally manipulate her tonight.

"And yet, here you are," she said cooly, stepping past him. “I’m not going with you.”

He grabbed her wrist. Gently—but firmly. His touch was warm. Steady. Frustrating.

"(Y/n). You don’t get it. He’s not asking.”

She looked up at him, chin lifted, heart pounding like war drums beneath her ribs.

She hated that he said her name like that. Like it meant something. She rips her arm out of his grip and takes a step back, insistent on keeping space between them

“I’m not going to be a pawn, Pietro.”

"You're already in the game. You just don’t want to admit it."

“I'm not in shit.”

Her fingers sparked with energy then—just barely. A shimmer of violet light flickered up her arm like fire in a hearth. Slow and steady. Pietro's eyes dropped to it, then back to hers.

"You sure you want to do this, moon girl?"

"I’ve never been more sure of anything."

He didn’t move. For a moment, the silence held its breath. The wind paused. The night listened.

Then he stepped back. Let her go.

“You’d lose.” he says like it's a fact. Like no other outcome could be possible.

She holds his gaze for a beat. Then two.

He was probably right. She couldn’t fight to save her life. Which, coincidently, was exactly when she needed it. And she needed it often.

Her sigh then cuts through the air like a slow exhale of a long-forgotten lullaby. The kind of sound a soul made when it was too weary to fight the silence, but too stubborn to surrender fully.

She was stretched thin with exhaustion, not from the confrontation, but from everything. From war and missions, from expectations and choices. From a world that hated them for simply being, and the constant requirement to prove themselves worthy of existing in places that deemed them undeserving. And the inevitability of running into him. Again. Always.

The past dripped slowly in places like this—quiet, empty, and full of ghosts. The ground doesn’t forgive, it just waits.

A reluctant truce between instinct and exhaustion and pure curiosity had overcome her.

So she turned. Slowly. Her boots whispered against the gravel as she moved, the oversized denim jacket she adorned slipping from her shoulder just enough to show the moonlight pale on her skin before she pulled it back up into place. It was approximately five sizes too big— ill-fitting, like a life she never asked for but lives anyway cause there’s no other choice. A little girl lost in grown-up‘s clothes. A soldier pretending she knows how to play war. The cold of the freight train bled through her layers when she leaned back against it, metal biting down through fabric and resolve alike at her back. She flinched only slightly, then settled, one boot scuffed against the asphalt, the other kicked up behind her to rest flat against rusted steel.

It was the posture of someone who wasn’t going to run, but wasn’t going to be dragged either.

Quicksilver hadn’t moved. Maybe he was waiting for her to bolt. Maybe he was calculating how many steps it would take to reach her if she did. But she wasn’t running.

Her eyes flicked back to him with a gaze she wore like armor. Bored. Tired. Disinterested. Except it was a lie, of course. She was studying him. Every angle. Every slight change.

His hair was longer now. Not by much, but enough for her to notice. Enough to know she hadn’t seen him in months. Time had been kind to him in the way it was kind to cruel people—preserving their beauty like a warning sign. His silver strands, always unnatural, gleamed in the moonlight like silk laced with mercury. She remembered thinking, once, that he looked like he’d been touched by the stars. Moonkissed, she had called it.

But that was before she knew who had really touched him.

Before she knew who had carved him from the same sharp stone and set him loose on the world.

It had always been like that, even when they were teenagers, even when he was just some cocky blur of a boy who annoyed her on missions and flashed too many teeth when he smirked. She’d initially thought the color was dye, some edgy brooding Brotherhood thing.

She'd been wrong. It was blood. It was legacy. It was Magneto’s, like everything else about him. The sharp lines of his jaw. The eerie grace of his movement. The cold glacier- blue in his eyes, That intensity beneath the bravado, coiled tight like a spring, waiting to snap. The anger. Oh, the anger. Constant and bitter. Angry at a world that wouldn’t change no matter how hard anyone tried.

He looked more like Erik than Wanda did. More than Lorna ever could, despite her having her father’s powers. It unsettled her. That resemblance. That inheritance. Sure he was younger, the lines of time yet to set into his face. He was taller and leaner and wore his cockiness out and arrogant, but at the core they were alike in a way that was undeniable. She wondered if he ever looked in the mirror and saw himself, or only the man he’d been chasing his entire life like a ghost, despite him always being right there, just unwilling. She wondered what Magneto thought when he looked at him. His eldest child? Or the reminders of the failures of the man he used to be? Maybe that’s why he was so cold towards his only son.

Her eyes lowered briefly. Civilian clothes, tonight. That was interesting.

No combat gear, no flashy insignias. No weight of war on his shoulders, only a dark leather jacket that suits the season, resting just right across a frame broader than it used to be. He’s taller now, more filled in. Still lean, still quick—but not all sharp corners anymore. There’s muscle under that snug black tee. Probably more than he needs. Probably more than she needs to know about.

Of course the shirt clings like it always did, tighter than it probably needed to be. Not that he needed help drawing attention. But Pietro Maximoff didn’t know how to wear anything without a little arrogance sewn in.

“What could that man possibly want with me?” she asked at last, voice level, somewhere between disinterest and disdain.

Pietro didn’t answer at first. He just looked at her.

And maybe it was the moonlight, or maybe it was something else, but for a moment, he wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t mocking her. He just stood there, staring like she was something just slightly out of reach, slightly more dangerous than she'd ever let herself be.

"You're asking the wrong guy," he said eventually, voice lower now, almost thoughtful. “I don’t play chess, remember? I’m the piece that gets moved.” He tilted his head. “You, on the other hand… you’re a piece Magneto can’t quite figure out.”

"Or maybe I'm just not worth the effort," she replied.

His smile returned, sharp and annoying. “If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be here.” He took a step closer, boots crunching on gravel. “You think he sends me to do grunt work?”

“Yes,” she says, not even hesitating for a second. Voice flat and deadpan, like it was an obvious answer to that question

“Ouch. You wound me, little bird.”

She gave a lazy shrug, the oversized jacket slipping slightly off one shoulder once more. She didn’t bother pulling it back up this time. “That’s the idea.”

Pietro's gaze slips to the newly revealed skin for a brief second, eyes mapping out her collarbone and the slope of a shoulder that was now exposed due to the sleeveless shirt she wore underneath, before his eyes snapped back to hers. She pretends not to notice.

They stood there, not quite talking. Not quite fighting. The wind carried a whistle down the tracks, eerie in the emptiness. The city was far away now, nothing but a glow on the horizon.

"Why are you really here?" she asked, softer this time. "You hate taking orders. You cannot stand your father. I’ve seen the way you flinch when he speaks to you like you’re a tool. So why are you still running his errands?”

His jaw worked. For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then:

“Because I’m good at it,” he said finally. “And when you’re good at something, you’re not given a choice. Not really.”

Her brows furrow at his words.

“That’s not true.”

He scoffed. “Says the girl who stayed with the X-Men even after they kept sending her out there like bait.”

That one stung.

He noticed. His voice softened just a little. “You ever wonder what it’d be like to stop trying to be what they expect?”

“I don’t take advice from someone who also does exactly what’s expected of him,” she shot back. “You think you’re a rebel, but all you’ve ever done is chase your father’s shadow. You talk big, but you’re still a scared little boy running after a man who will never give you what you’re looking for and everybody knows it.”

That did it.

His expression hardened, and he took a threatening step forward. Once again the distance between them has shrunk to a considerably small size. Like a waltz, they ebb back and forth. The air seems more hostile this time, however. It seems her words had finally stung as deeply as intended.

“I came here,” he said through clenched teeth, “to give you a chance. You could’ve walked away from all of this. Could’ve had power. Could’ve stopped playing foot soldier for Xavier and his pathetic dream.”

God he was insufferable.

“Firstly, it’s not pathetic, you self-absorbed-”

“Please, i’m self-absorbed that’s actually rich coming from you-”

“-And you’re no better, following orders like a dog-”

“-considering the moral high-horse you lot sit on. it’s actually nauseating-”

“-for a man who has no idea he’ll become what he hates-”

“-the way things are going is gonna get us all killed, we don't have time to-”

“-he’s a damn hypocrite, and you’re no better-”

“-and the X-men are useless at best, hoping if you do enough dirty work, they’ll accept mutant-”

“-Have you and any of your buddies actually done anything except prove every mutant stereotype down to a T or-”

“-Who the fuck cares? They’re gonna blame everything on us anyways-”

“-yeah, so proving them right is the move-”

“-God, you reek of self-righteousness and privilege-”

“-better than playing terrorist-”

“-you’re saying this from up in your ivory tower-”

They were yelling over each other at this point. And it was beyond unproductive, considering neither was willing to even attempt to hear the other out.

“Enough!” she yells, and it's actually enough to get him to shut up. He continues to glare at her and she lets her eyes close, and her head drop as a sigh pulls from between parted lips, her breath fogging in the cold air with the exhale.

“I didn’t come to debate politics with you,” she says, voice tired. She takes a few steps away from him and slips further against the freight train, letting the rusting junk take on the brunt of her weight so she wouldn't have to carry it all on her own. Her bones feel heavy. They have for a while and she was getting tired of carrying them with her everywhere she went.

(Y/n)'s words fell like slow, deliberate raindrops—each one dampening the tension rather than snapping it. They weren’t meant to wound. Not really. But they were heavy, and the weight of truth had a way of bruising.

“Xavier’s a bastard,” she said, voice steady, eyes narrowed as she watched him. “But Magneto’s no better. ‘Sides, Cyclops has been calling the shots for a while now.”

Pietro scoffed, but said nothing. Not yet. So she kept going.

“I’ve disagreed with Charles plenty, especially the older I get and the more I see what he's willing to overlook for the sake of the dream. But his ideology doesn’t rest on bloodshed, or dominance, or this superiority complex your father breathes like air.”

his eyes narrow back at her words.

‘Not talk politics, my ass.’

“It’s not a superiority complex.” He says, voice cold and agitated. “News flash, Nightingale—they hate us. They want us dead. We have to fight back with the same force or we’ll be wiped out. Why cant you and those spandex-wearing freaks get it through your thick heads.”

He also lets himself rest against the cart, his shoulder to the metal so his body is facing her, but his head is looking out into the rail yard, nothing in particular catching his interest. He just didn’t want her to see him seething.

“You think ‘peaceful coexistence’ means anything to the people outside that mansion, praying we disappear? We’re fighting for our lives, and you're still acting like it's some kind of moral debate club.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not doing this with you, Pietro .”

“You’re the one who started it.”

“Just shut up.”

He fumes, but relents.

The quiet overtakes, and they let it settle between them and the night like a balm on a burn, meant to soothe. Frustration and anger easing out of both bodies slowly and slightly.

He steps closer—not all the way, but enough that she could feel the cold static of his presence again. That same subtle tension in the air, like a thunderstorm waiting behind glass.

“You’re scared of it,” he said, softer now. “Of your powers.”

Her lips parted, just slightly but no words came out. He’d hit something. Something she didn’t like people seeing.

“I’m not afraid,” she said eventually. “I’m cautious.”

“Same thing,” he said, and for once, there was no tease nor malice in it. Just truth.

She swallows a huff, breathing slowly through her nose. “Maximoff, I can go borderline nuclear in five seconds flat if i dont have the reins all the way in check. What would you have me do?”

He gives a lazy shrug. Nonchalant and noncommittal. Like she couldn't level a city block with a flick of her wrist if her head was on wrong.

“Don’t be afraid.” He says it like it's the simplest thing in the world. Like the answer has always been obvious and she’d been looking in all the wrong places for it.

She shakes her head, not bothering to answer him. She doesn’t really know how.

Maybe he was right. Maybe not. It didn't particularly matter. Because she didn’t know how to stop being afraid. It was etched into her soul, the fear she had of herself. It took over a decade of training to get where she was, to the mastery she possessed of her own mutation. And even then, it felt like a bandaid over a gaping wound. Superficial. Only there to cover the damage so nobody had to look at the bloody, ugly thing.

Another sigh slipped from her lips like the wind blowing between forgotten cracks. It was quieter this time. Less a sound of defeat and more the weary exhale of a woman who'd been holding her breath too long. Her head dipped forward, curls swaying gently kissing the sides of her face, as she reached up with a manicured hand to rub the back of her neck, her fingers digging into a knot that had formed like a stone lodged beneath her skin. Firm and pulsing like the echo of the tension she'd been carrying for days. Weeks. Years, if she was being honest.

This place—the X-Men, the mansion, the maddening missions and miscommunications, the quiet understanding that no one really knew what they were doing—they were home. Not perfect. But hers. The family she never had. The one that fought like hell and screamed in the halls and cried behind closed doors. The children running around, learning to use and accept and be with their mutations. The one that let her be broken, and still let her stay.

There was never a version of this where she left the X-Men. Not even in dreams. Not even when the mansion got too loud, or too quiet, or too full of ghosts.

They were hers. Her ragtag, squabbling, loyal, impossible family. The one she chose. The one that stayed.

Scott with his leadership and saviour’s complex. Ororo with her soft reprimands. Kurt, always trying to make her laugh even when her world was falling apart. Kitty, with her quiet strength. Rouge with her southern charm and a shoulder she always had to cry on. Logan with his gruff grunts that somehow meant love.

Even the ones who were gone. Even the ones who’d stayed too long.

She would not leave them.

And she definitely wasn’t trading them for Magneto’s army of true believers and half-broken boys pretending they weren't scared.

Her gaze slid lazily back to Pietro, head tilting, curls catching moonlight. Her voice came soft, almost amused, like a cat playing with something half-dead between its paws.

“He still hates you, y’know?”

Pietro blinked, clearly not expecting it. “Who?”

She smirked. “Scott.”

The reaction was instantaneous. That deadpan look returned to his face like a well-worn mask as he stared at her in exhausted disbelief.

“Good,” he snapped.

A pause.

And then, quieter, sharper: “Mutual.”

She laughed.

Not a scoff, not a sneer. A laugh.

It burst from her, sharp and musical, and it knocked the cold out of the air for a second. It was unexpected, unguarded—like a bell ringing in a quiet cathedral. Genuine, melodic, light. It peeled from her like sunlight through fog. And Pietro, who’d spent a lifetime outrunning things—responsibility, feelings, his own name—froze in place.

Because it was the kind of sound a man might go into reverence for.

It undid something in him. Made the space between them feel impossibly close, impossibly far.

Pietro would’ve done anything she asked to hear it again.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. There was a soft twitch of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed at his sides, like they ached to hold something they knew they couldn’t.

It was unfair, honestly, how good it sounded. How alive it made her look, even draped in fatigue and denim too big. The smile that followed bloomed across her face, softening her features into something sweeter than he had any right to see after threatening to drag her back to his father like a prize.

The smile on her face was gentle now, real. Something that didn’t belong on a battlefield, didn’t belong in the ruined husk of a rail yard at midnight. It belonged in gardens. In sunlit kitchens. On slow Sunday mornings and soft cotton sheets. It made her look younger, somehow—like this war hadn’t touched her quite as deeply as he knew it had.

She rolled her eyes, but there was no sharpness in the gesture. Just… tired affection. Fondness. Soft-edged history. The kind that tasted of years they pretended didn’t matter.A thread of memory pulling through the decade. The old days, back when the fights were mostly verbal and the stakes were mostly pride.

Some things didn’t change. Not really.

She slipped a hand into her pocket then, the movement smooth, easy. Like instinct. Her fingers closed around the battered pack she hadn’t even dared touch for months now. Maybe it was the cold. Maybe it was the company. Maybe she just wanted to reclaim a little vice for herself tonight.

The Camel menthols box were practically falling apart. The cardboard was soft with wear, corners dented and edges fraying like the last edge of self-control in a stressful week. But she popped the lid open and plucked a cigarette from the pack like it was routine.

Then her eyes flicked back to him, one brow arched high.

A silent offer.

Pietro’s eyebrows rose, a soft scoff escaping him. “You smoke?” he asked, arms crossing over his chest again, the leather of his jacket groaning softly under the strain. His too-snug shirt pulled tighter across his chest with the movement. It was entirely too obvious, and he was entirely too unaware of just what he was doing to her unconsciously. She ignored it expertly.

She shrugged, the cigarette dancing slightly between her fingers. “Not really,” she said. “Sometimes.”

Another scoff. But he reached out anyway.

She didn’t hide her surprise at that, though she disguised it behind a curl of her lip. He plucked a cigarette from the pack she held, slipping it between lips that were always slightly wind-chapped, with practiced ease.

And for a moment, they just stared at each other, smoke-less, caught in the absurdity of it all.

She tucked the pack away again, reached into the same pocket and produced a cheap plastic lighter—one of those corner-store things, half-broken and temperamental. She flicked it once, twice, three times before the flame danced alive in the dark. She gave him a look, one of those universal gestures that meant you’re too damn tall, get down here.

He snorted but obliged, bending at the waist, so their faces were close. Too close. With only the lighter’s flame flickering in the narrow space between them. It danced like a restless spirit, casting his face in shifting gold and shadow, tracing the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the curve of his mouth.

The flame caught his eyes like a hook in water, drawing out something ancient and quiet and furious. An impossible shade of blue, not sky, not sea, not anything she’d ever seen. Something colder, deeper—like the gleam of lightning before it strikes.

There was anger in that gaze, a deep, smoldering kind—the kind that burned low and endless. Anger at the world. At how it had turned him hard when he might’ve been something else.

He was painfully handsome. Unfairly so. Like a statue half-broken by time—still beautiful, but not untouched. Not innocent.

But it wasn’t like she wasn’t, either. Innocence wasn’t something she could claim anymore—hadn’t been for a long time. It had been taken, not lost. Ripped away in pieces, sharp and sudden, in the way only the world could do when it didn’t care how young you were.

They’d all been too young. Too soft, too full of things like hope and wonder and the foolish belief that the world might give back what it took.

And yet—here she stood. Still holding onto that hope like a lifeline, knuckles white around it. Because that was all she had. Cause it was all she could believe in to keep herself going. Because without it, everything unraveled—everything turned gray and senseless, and she needed something to tether her to the fight. Hope was the thread she stitched herself together with each morning. Fragile, foolish, maybe, but hers.

He didn’t seem to need something as delicate as hope. Anger was enough. There was no softness in the way he looked at the world—just that simmering fury and a drive so relentless it was almost frightening.

She stepped forward, closing the last inches of space, the heat from her hand near his jaw, the flare of fire catching the end of his cigarette. He kept his eyes on hers, unmoving. That’s when he caught a whiff of her perfume—soft, powdery, clean and sweet. Something candied-floral tucked beneath warm skin and the faint scent of ozone that always clung to her after she used her powers.

It hit him harder than expected. It made him dizzy.

It was her. And it was comfort. And it was memory. And it was the scent of someone who made abandoned train yards feel like the edge of something beautiful.

Then she stepped back, putting space between them again as she lit her own cigarette with the same soft detachment, as though she hadn’t just handed him a memory he’d crave for the rest of his life. The flame briefly illuminates the gentle curve of her face, the shadows beneath her eyes, that seemed darker these days. She inhaled, slow and long, and exhaled just as steady, smoke curling from her lips like fog rolling through forgotten hills.

Her absence was immediate. Like being snapped out of a dream too soon. The distance felt wrong, like something sacred had been broken.

Pietro took a drag, the nicotine burning hot and sharp in his chest, and for a second, they were just two people in a forgotten train yard, caught somewhere between what they were and what they could’ve been.

He savored the moment. He wanted to memorize it. To stretch it out so it could last forever. The ease. The quiet affection of an enemy who still remembered what he used to look like when he was seventeen and angry at the world.

He supposed not much had changed. He was still angry at the world. Angry at all of it.

He took another drag, this time, without looking at her, letting the menthol numb his tongue and sting the back of his throat. His jaw worked as he exhaled slowly, letting the smoke unfurl into the cold night air, curling like ghosts between them.

She leaned against the train again, one leg bent, boot still planted on the metal behind her, cigarette now resting between her fingers like an old friend. Her eyes were on the stars.

“You ever think,” she said, voice quiet now, like the moment between them had shifted into something not quite safe to name, “that if we’d met under different circumstances... things might’ve been different?”

Pietro’s gaze drifted toward her.

The wind carried her curls across her cheek. The cherry of her cigarette glowed faintly red. Her lips were parted just slightly, flushed a deeper color from the cold. She looked something straight out of a painting. A masterpiece.

He didn’t answer right away.

He didn’t want to lie.

So he didn’t.

“Yeah,” he said eventually, exhaling smoke from the corner of his mouth. “I think about that a lot.”

She turned to look at him then. Just once.

And in the silence that followed, they both said everything they couldn't say out loud.

The smoke curled from her lips, delicate and transient, vanishing into the cold night like the moment they were standing in—fragile, stolen, doomed. They stood in that half-silence, the kind that only exists when two people are trying not to admit there’s nothing left to say. The train yard stretched around them, rusted and quiet, a graveyard of motion and memory. A place suspended in time, where the past dragged its heels and refused to die.

For a breath—a single breath—it felt like peace.

But peace was never meant to linger.

Not for people like them.

The leaves rustled in a way that wasn’t wind. In the way that whispered company. Her spine straightened before she even processed why, cigarette frozen halfway to her lips. Years of training kicking in subconsciously like reflex. Her eyes narrowed, scanning the shadows between the train cars. She heard them before she saw them—footsteps too coordinated to be casual. Too numerous.

Pietro noticed it too. She caught the flick of his eyes, the way his jaw locked tight. Not fear. Not surprise. Just cold understanding.

Then they stepped out of the shadow and into the moonlight.

Three men.

Monsters, some would say. Freaks.

She knew them all.

The first wore a grin that stretched too wide over his sharp face, flame-red hair catching the dim light as if already half-ignited. His eyes sparked with glee, like he loved the idea of having an audience for whatever carnage he planned. As unstable as the fire he worshipped.

The second was all smooth swagger and subtle menace, red-on-black eyes glowing faintly under the brim of his hood. With those cards of his and a mouth that dripped charm like venom. She remembered him kissing her hand once, years ago, as a distraction to swipe something from her pocket.

And the last…

The sight of him made her stomach turn.

His footsteps were heavy and slow and sure. A beast in human skin. A hunter stepping into the world. Taller than the other already tall men, Older. Broader. Wild blond hair tangled like a lion’s mane, falling around his face like a curtain. His eyes were yellow—sharp, detachteched, cold, predatory. She didn’t even need to see the claws to feel them at her throat.

She remembered that feeling all too well. It still haunts her nightmares sometimes.

Her fingers tensed around the cigarette. Her lips parted in a breath that didn’t come. Her heart plummeted.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t dare.

Her eyes moved to look at Pietro then, with a slow turn of the head, as if she could somehow will him into explaining this away.

But he didn’t.

He stood still, expression unreadable, back straight and spine rigid like a soldier at attention. His face was blank, so carefully composed it almost hurt to look at. He wasn’t surprised.

He’d known.

The realization hit her like a blow to the gut.

She’d been set up.

The look she gave him wasn’t betrayal. Not quite. No, it was something softer, something older. The weight of inevitability. The quiet ache of knowing they’d always end up here, drawing lines in the dirt only to find themselves standing on opposite sides again and again.

Her heart dropped through her chest, nonetheless. She didn’t need to say it. The betrayal wasn’t loud, wasn’t dramatic. It bloomed quietly in her eyes, like the first crack in a stained-glass window. Barely visible.

But once it started—it never stopped.

She looked at him like someone who had almost let herself believe in something, only to be reminded why she never could.

He would say it if she gave him the chance.

I don’t owe you anything.

And he’d be right.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t defend himself.

Didn’t say anything.

Because what could he say?

They always ended up here.

Different sides. Same battlefield. The same war they never asked for. Both fighting for mutantkind in their own way, but walking paths that would run parallel for all of existence, never crossing. Not when one was lit in fire and fury and the other was a tightrope balanced over a chasm of compromise and restraint.

Maybe it was fate.

Or maybe it was another cruel trick of the universe.

Or maybe it was just survival.

She took a final drag of her cigarette, the burn of menthol sharp and grounding. She exhaled smoke slowly, deliberately, as the three men came into clear proximity. They didn’t run. They didn’t need to. The way Pyro’s grin widened, the way Gambit rested his hands in his pockets lazily, the way Sabertooth sniffed the air like he was already tasting the hunt—it was clear.

Magneto had sent his Acolytes.

They were here to collect her.

And it was clear they didn’t think they’d have to try very hard.

"You never were very subtle, mate," Pyro called out, an Australian accent thick, “Bit dramatic for a snatch-and-grab, don’tcha think? Having a smoke under the moonlight?”

Her eyes turn back to Quicksilver’s face. "How long?"

His jaw clenched. Just a flicker.

"Since the start."

She nodded once. Not big. Not dramatic. Just an acknowledgment of something already known in her bones.

"Well, well, well," Pyro purred, voice coated in gasoline. As the three had made their way over to them. “Didn’t think we’d find you out here alone, Nightingale. Guess the songbird strayed too far from the nest, eh?”

(Y/n) didn’t answer. unblinking, unreadable.

Sabertooth chuckled low, like gravel sliding down a mountain. It was a sound that was familiar in all of the worst ways. “This her, Maximoff?”

Pietro’s voice came steady. Empty. “Yeah.”

That was all he said.

Not a warning. Not a protest. Just confirmation.

Her blood ran colder.

“You’re not walking away tonight, chère,” Gambit said smoothly, his voice sliding around her like smoke, Cajun accent as heavy as she remembered. “We’ve got business. You, me, and the boss.”

She straightened, finally, letting the cigarette fall from her fingers to the dirt below. She ground it out beneath the heel of her boot, slow and silent. When she lifted her head, there was no fear in her expression. Only resolve. Contained. Contoured.

Like a fuse lit but not yet burning.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said, voice steadier than she felt.

“Come on, now,” Pyro crooned. “Don’t be like that, love. Magneto’s got plans. Big ones. And you’re on the guest list, baby bird.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He just flashed his teeth at her with a knowing wink that went completely unacknowledged.

The weight of the situation came pressing on her chest. Hot and heavy, and cold and unfeeling all at once. She looked around uselessly already knowing there wasn’t an out for her. She wouldn't be able to escape or flee. Not with Quicksilver and not with Sabretooth. And fighting seemed laughable. She was outnumbered, outclassed and outranked. She couldn't take on one of the assholes, much less all four. It was a losing situation for her no matter the hand dealt.

She sighed for what felt like the thousandth time that night.

Besides, she didn’t want to fight.

Not tonight. Not now.

The adrenaline was starting to mix too heavily with the nicotine in her blood, and she knew if she let her panic take the wheel, she’d regret what followed. So she reached back into her jacket instead—hands steady, slow, deliberate—and pulled out the battered pack of Camels. Her fingers dipped inside and came out with one last cigarette, slightly bent, a little weathered, but still perfectly smokable.

“Quite the party,” she murmured, voice soft but steady, refusing to look away from the approaching threat. “Didn’t realize I was so popular.”

It perched delicately between her lips, the curve of her mouth pulling around it like it belonged there.

A girl playing dress-up in her father’s jacket. A delicate, pretty thing made of soft curves and sharper edges. The cigarette looked out of place in her hand. On her mouth. She didn’t look like a smoker. But the ease with which she moved—the practiced, habitual precision of it—betrayed the truth.

It looked out of place until it didn’t. Not when it had clearly lived a few lives with her already.

Because nothing about her was simple.

She let her eyes drag lazily over the men in front of her, as though they weren’t here to drag her to some gilded prison of Magneto’s making. As though they were just three guys she might see in a dive bar or waiting outside a concert venue.

They were dressed like civilians, the same way Pietro was. Their attempt at blending in, at pretending this was anything less than an ambush. Gambit, of course, wore that damn trench coat—dramatic as ever, even without the armor or gear. Pyro looked like he’d stepped out of an indie band lineup, something almost artistic in the haphazard way his clothes clung to him, flannels and baggy jeans and some obscure band’s t-shirt she couldn’t tell you the first thing about .

And Sabertooth?

Sabertooth looked like a monster in borrowed clothes.

Nothing on earth could domesticate that man.

She studied them with the same gaze one might give a gallery painting from across the room. An art critic trying to decide if they were charmed or offended.

Gambit caught her eye first.

He’d changed. Gambit looked older now—matured. The boy she remembered was long gone, replaced by a man who hadn’t lost a drop of that swamp-born charm. Heavily shadowed stubble now lined the sharp angles of his face, making him look older, rougher, better, honestly. His charm had deepened—ripened with time like some expensive wine. The smirk on his face was criminal, lethal, and she knew if the smile didn’t get a woman, the voice would. Honey-dipped and sin-slick, he’d always known how to draw hearts like blood from a wound. The kind of thing that would make a girl trip over herself and thank him for it.

But his eyes—those unforgettable eyes were the same as she remembered them. Oddly beautiful; red irises and black sclera like spilled ink and blood. They seemed amused. Like he could hear every thought in her head. Roguish charm was an understatement.

He caught her looking.

Of course he did.

He offered her a lazy grin, slow and smooth, like molasses poured from a silver spoon. “Ma chérie,” he said with a wink that probably made hearts flutter from miles away. “If you keep lookin’ at me like that, I might start thinkin’ you missed me.”

She didn’t dignify that with a response, just raised one unimpressed brow and moved on.

Pyro—he hadn’t changed as much. His frame had filled out some, arms defined beneath the thin long-sleeved tee he wore under an open flannel. Shoulders broader than she remembers, and he might’ve been an inch or two taller than he used to be. His vibrant hair had grown a little longer, hanging in his face, which was sharper now, in artful chaos. Tonight, he’d swapped his flamethrowers for something subtler. He stood with one hand in his pocket and the other fidgeting with a matchbook—flicking it open and closed, the snap-snap-snap a rhythmic tic she remembered from years ago. There was still that unhinged brightness behind his eyes. That barely-contained chaos that looked like a spark always about to ignite.

Her eyes lingered on him a little longer.

Old crushes were a strange thing.

She remembered liking him once. Maybe it was the accent. Or the danger. Or that brand of reckless energy. Or maybe just the way his eyes used to light up when he talked about fire like it was a living thing. Like he was in love with it. That kind of devotion was rare. It was foolish, in retrospect. But she had been seventeen, and he had laughed at her jokes. Sometimes that was all it took.

And then there was Sabertooth.

She swallowed.

He hadn’t aged a damn day.

He still looked older than any of them but was aging like some slow-turning curse. Healing factor made him almost eternal.

Out of everyone, he had changed the least. He was still enormous. Still terrifying. Still too quiet and too aware for someone so feral. Still exuding the kind of hunger that wasn’t about food or sex, but something deeper, more primal—an instinct to devour whatever he couldn’t control. His golden eyes didn’t blink as he watched her. They never had. He was the same the day she met him, and he’d be the same long after she was dead. Time didn’t touch men like him and Logan. Not the way it did everyone else.

She looked at him, and in the quiet between her thoughts, wondered—not for the first time—how long he and Logan had been circling each other, roaming the earth. How many times had they torn chunks from each other’s flesh, only to heal and meet again?

And how many more times were left? It seemed they’d be here till the end of the universe itself.

Star-crossed lovers, Shakespeare had written.

She supposed Logan and Creed were something else entirely.

Star-crossed enemies.

The term didn’t exist, but maybe it should’ve.

Destined to destroy, and somehow, destined not to die.

Her voice broke the stillness like glass underfoot. She turns her attention back to Pyro, her head cocked to the side, a dry smile on her lips.

“Got a light?”she asked, utterly casually. As if she wasn’t surrounded. As if they weren’t here to kidnap her. She thought she was funny. She brought the cigarette up in front of her and waved it nonchalantly, as though that explained everything.

Pyro blinked.

A heartbeat passed.

Then a shit-eating grin spread on his face, like a fire catching wind. God help her, he looked like the type who’d light a match just to watch it burn down to his fingers and laugh about the scars.

Oh, he liked that. Not just the question, but the whole performance. The cigarette dangling from her lips like punctuation. The way her curls framed her face in disheveled poetry. The tilt of her head like she was unbothered, like this was just another Tuesday and not a setup spiraling into something dark.

Gambit let out a low whistle under his breath. “Mon dieu chérie… bold of you.”

“Oh, Darlin’,” Pyro drawled, pulling his lighter from the inside of his coat like it was a holy relic, flicking the silver Zippo open with a practiced snap. A distinct cling sound filling the hollow air. A tiny flame danced to life, flickering gold in the shadows. “You know I always have a light.”

He took a step forward, hand outstretched. Even though he didn’t need to. They both knew that. He could’ve lit her up from ten feet away with a thought and a twitch of his fingers.

She raises a brow at him in question, and he just flashes her a brilliant smile.

“Don’t mind sharin’. Any excuse to get close to you, songbird.”

(Y/n) didn’t flinch. She didn’t laugh either. But her lips twitched, like she was amused. Maybe she was. In a twisted sort of way.

Pietro let out a slow breath through his nose, muttering something under it that sounded suspiciously like you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

She stepped forward as well with casual ease, cigarette held delicately between her lips. She didn’t rush. The men around her, the fear clawing up her ribs, the betrayal still scalding behind her breastbone—all of it could wait.

“Let me guess. You want me to say something cheesy. ‘Light your fire, birdie?’”

“I’d actually prefer it if you’d shut up, but I never get what I want.”

“Aw don’t be like that, love.”

Pietro’s voice cut in then. Cold and sharp.

“She has her own lighter.”

(Y/n) didn’t even look at him. “It’s out of fluid.”

That was a lie. Her plastic Bic was full. She just didn’t feel like using it.

She could practically hear him grit his teeth from somewhere behind her. She didn’t really care.

She leaned in, letting the thin cylinder of her cigarette rest against the edge of Pyro’s flame. It caught with a soft flick and a brief flare, the scent of menthol curling up in the air between them. For a second—just a second—they stood close enough that she could see the ash flecks in his eyes, the faint scar near his temple she didn’t remember from before, the way his grin faltered as if surprised by the calm in her gaze. Like maybe she wasn’t scared of him. Like maybe she never had been.

She stepped back once her cigarette was lit, giving a little flick of her fingers in a mock salute. Smoke twisted in lazy ribbons around her face.

“Thanks, Johnny. Glad to see you’re good for something still” Her voice was breezy, offhanded, cut from the same cloth as the smoke curling from her lips—soft and biting at once.

He chuckled low, licking the inside of his cheek. “You know how much I like watching things burn. I take any chance I can get to light one up for pretty girls.

A beat.

“Especially the mean ones”

She rolled her eyes, but the sharp edge of her mouth softened just a touch, betraying the ghost of reluctant amusement.

Behind her, somewhere closer to the rusted freight train, Quicksilver grunted.

Not loud. But sharp. Meant to be heard.

(Y/n) didn’t turn.

Pietro hadn’t moved since the moment the others arrived, but the tension had twisted his spine into something steel-cable tight. He looked like he wanted to punch something—preferably Allerdyce’s stupid face.

And Pyro, the bastard, caught his eye over her shoulder.

Met his stare.

And gave him a slow, lazy grin, mouth quirked like a match head begging for a strike. His expression said What? Jealous? as clearly as if he’d spoken it aloud.

Go on, do something

Pietro’s finger’s twitch, every bit of self restraint he had going into not choking the redhead right here, right now.

He could. God, he could do it before anyone blinked. Pyro wouldn’t even see it coming.

But he didn’t.

“Mm. Therapy might help with that.” Nightingale replies, unaware of the silent threats the two men shared in a split second.

The flame snapped closed with a flick, and Pyro watched her with something unreadable in his gaze as she took a drag. Something one could mistake as veneration.

Not lust. Not infatuation. Something deeper.

The kind of quiet awe a boy might carry for the storm that ruined his hometown—beautiful, destructive, unforgettable.

Behind her, the moon hung low, swollen and bruised against the indigo sky like it had seen too much and said too little. A witness draped in borrowed light. She turned her head and exhaled smoke up toward the stars. Ironic, how peaceful it looked. How quiet. Like the world wasn't holding its breath around them.

Like nothing was about to break.

“You’ve changed,” he said eventually, almost admiring.

She exhaled again, eyes on him like steel under velvet. “So have you. Still an asshole, though.”

His lips pulled into a smirk. Crooked. Honest. “Fair.”

A low growl cut through the air then like a scalpel through skin—feral, throaty, primal. The kind of sound that made your bones remember what fear was even if your brain insisted you were fine.

“You’re stalling,” Sabretooth rumbled. His voice was gravel soaked in blood, low and sharp, the warning in it unmistakable.

(Y/n)’s head snapped toward him on instinct, her pulse hitching despite her best efforts. For just a flicker—just a breath—panic danced behind her eyes, a sliver of raw instinct. The kind that came when someone called your bluff before you could salvage the illusion. Her expression didn’t falter long, but it was enough to make the corners of Sabretooth’s mouth twitch.

She covered it with a lazy draw from her cigarette, but the damage was done.

“Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe I just wanted a smoke before your people started throwing punches.”

“You always this mouthy before a beating?” Sabretooth asked. He was watching her the way a lion watches a cornered gazelle—curious, patient. Hungry. A confidence that comes with knowing you’ve already won.

Something in his gaze said: Run. It’ll be more fun for me.

(Y/n) inhaled, and let the smoke sit in her lungs for a heartbeat. Then exhaled slowly through her nose, eyes trained on the older mutant like he didn’t terrify her down to the marrow.

So she opened her mouth and said something she knew was beyond stupid.

“You always this eager to play attack dog for someone who keeps you on a leash? Or is this your way of proving you still got it after that thrashing Logan gave you?”

The silence that followed was deep and sharp, like the breath before a scream.

Sabretooth’s snarl was instant—teeth bared, hackles raised, the line between man and beast erased in one second.

He lunged a half-step forward, claws twitching into view—

And Pietro moved.

In a blink, he was between them, arm outstretched, fingers splayed—not touching her, but blocking the space between her and the coming storm. His voice came low

“Enough.”

“You got a real goddamn mouth on you, girl,” he hissed. “Let’s see if you still got any jokes when I tear out your fucking throat—”

“Whoa, whoa—easy, mon frère,” Gambit cut in, stepping slightly in front of him, one hand raised.“Ain’t no need for that just yet. She's just talkin’, homme,” Gambit said lazily, though his tone was a notch more serious than before. “You know how birds get when they’re backed in a cage. She don’ mean nothin’ by it.”

(Y/n) turned her gaze sharply to Gambit. “Don’t speak for me.”

The look Gambit gave her was pleading—bordering on annoyed. Like a man trying to keep a bar fight from turning into a body count.

Quicksilver turned toward her at that, eyes burning. His jaw clenched hard enough to tremble at the edges.

“Stop talking,” he bit out. “Just—stop. You’re not helping yourself.”

His face was unreadable, but his eyes flickered—furious.

And beneath it all—he looked scared.

For her?

She nearly scoffed. Yeah, right.

He’s the one who got her into this fucking mess.

From off to the side, Pyro chuckled lowly, breaking the tension just enough to turn all eyes.

“Bloody hell, love. Ain’t you just a little spitfire.” His voice was darkly amused, tinged with something she couldn’t quite place. “Careful now, Creed,” he added, eyes flicking toward Sabretooth. “Looks like the little birdie’s got claws too.”

Sabretooth growled again, a low, guttural threat vibrating up from his chest. But Pyro wasn’t finished.

“She’s not wrong though,” he mused, head cocked, genuinely entertained. “Wolverine did mop the floor with you last time. What was it—three minutes? Two?” He grinned, wicked. “Not that anyone’s counting.”

Sabretooth snarled—really snarled this time, shoulders bunching, claws arching forward like he meant to carve someone in half right then and there—

“Say that again, you little—!”

“Don’t,” Pietro snapped, venom sharp and sudden, his voice cracking like thunder across dry air. “We’re not doing this now.”

Gambit threw up a hand in warning, cool and casual but firm.

“Let it go, Victor.”

(Y/n) glanced at him, a ghost of a smirk tugging the corner of her mouth despite the pulse thudding behind her ribs.

“Thanks for the assist,” she murmured.

Pyro winked. “Anytime, birdie.”

Quicksilver made a strangled sound like he might actually implode. “Somebody shut him up” he hisses.

Gambit’s eyes slid to (Y/n) again, sharp and steady now. The flirtation had bled out of his expression, replaced by a sort of grim calm.

“You come now, chérie. Quiet-like. We walk, we talk. No one gets hurt.”

“And if I don’t?”

No one answered.

They didn’t have to.

Sabretooth’s claws flexed in the still air with a slow, deliberate snikt.

And the night held its breath once again.

A pin drop could’ve echoed like a gunshot in the stillness that followed.

It was that quiet.

like the world itself had gone silent, teetering on the knife’s edge of violence. (Y/n)’s heart thundered in her chest, a frantic drumbeat behind her ribs. Fear had its hands on her—tight around her lungs, threading through her limbs, trembling just beneath the surface. It was there in the way her shoulders stiffened, in the twitch of her fingers at her sides, in the shallowness of each breath that left her.

She knew it.

They knew it.

She would have gotten mauled in five seconds flat had Quicksilver and Gambit not stepped in.

And still, she was stubborn.

Stupid, reckless, gut-deep stubborn. The kind that burns out stars before it ever yields.

She moved before she thought.

Shoved Quicksilver back with both hands—palms pressed to the cold leather over his chest. The contact was brief, but unexpected, and he stumbled—not from force, but from shock. His silver brows lifted a fraction, mouth parting in disbelief.

“Get away from me!,” Her voice cracked like glass, and still she stood her ground “All of you.”

Son of a bitch. The whole damn lot of them.

She smashed the cigarette under her boot’s heel, twisting her toe into the gravel until the last ember died with deliberate finality, grinding it into the rocks like it was something she could control.

Then she straightened slowly, lifting her chin like a blade drawn from a sheath. Her voice rang out like something final—low and serious.

“I thought I made myself perfectly clear. Tell Magneto he can rot in whatever hole he crawled out of.”

Her gaze swept over them, unflinching now despite the way her pulse screamed behind her ears.

“And if you're all so eager to follow him to hell.” her eyes landed on each of them, one by one. “be my guest, but I'm not gonna roll over so easily.”

There it was.

The line.

For one raw moment, no one breathed.

Then—

“Oh, come on,” Pietro snapped, throwing his hands up. “Are you trying to die tonight?”

Gambit winced and muttered something in French under his breath, something that sounded a lot like a prayer—or a curse.

“Merde,” he muttered under his breath. “Girl really don’ know when to shut up.”

Pyro’s expression was hard to read now. The flame in his grin had gone out, replaced by something pensive, almost cold. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—not admiration, but maybe... regret. Maybe just the echo of it.

“You’re makin’ this harder than it needs to be, love,” he said, and for once, his voice wasn’t teasing. No lilt, no smirk hiding behind his words. Just truth. And something that could have almost been pity.

And Sabretooth?

Sabretooth laughed.

A low, guttural sound that crawled up his throat and slithered across the night air.

“Well, that settles it,” he growled, flexing his claws with audible delight. “We do this the fun way.”

A wind stirred through the train yard then, sharp and cold as an icicle pick in winter. It slid past (Y/n)’s cheeks like a warning.

The sound of Sabretooth’s laughter rooted her in place, that deep, lupine rumble clinging to the insides of her ears like cobwebs. He stepped forward again, slow and heavy—each movement a flex of coiled muscle and malevolent intent. The moonlight caught on his claws as they extended fully, glinting silver like the teeth of some ancient trap.

He stepped again—deliberate, savoring the moment, the way monsters do when they’re certain the end has already been written. His bulk loomed larger with each stride, shoulders rolling like tectonic plates, hands relaxed but twitching with promise.

And still—she didn’t move.

Didn’t dare to.

Every instinct screamed at her to run. But where would she go? There were four of them. Trained. Ruthless. Men who had bathed in battle since their bones were half-grown. She’d be tackled in seconds, ripped apart before she could so much as scream.

Still, she couldn’t stop her legs from tensing, couldn’t stop her fingers from curling, couldn’t stop her power from flaring just a little too bright behind her ribs.

She took one breath. Another. And then—

The air around her began to shimmer.

Faint, at first— like a flickering lightbulb.. Then stronger. A ripple of something soft and silver-blue, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. Her pupils shrank to pinpricks, the stars above catching in her eyes like pin-lights reflected in water.

Pietro saw it first.

“No—no, don’t,” he snapped, his voice slicing the air like a whip as he turned to her. His hand lifted, palm open, like he might physically push the power back into her chest. “(Y/n) stop!. Don’t make this worse—”

Sabretooth lunged.

Fast.

Too fast for anything but panic.

But Pietro was faster.

In a blur of black and silver and wind, he caught Sabertooth mid-leap—shoulder crashing into the older mutant’s side with the full force of a sonic boom. The impact sent both of them tumbling across the gravel in a burst of motion and fury, a cloud of dust exploding where they fell.

“Get her!” Pietro shouted mid-scuffle, his voice a gruff and a whip-crack of command as he fought to keep Sabretooth’s claws from his throat.

But (Y/n) was already turning—already moving—legs pushing off the earth like a raven. Her power bloomed behind her eyes now, lighting her skin in soft purple pulses. She moved with desperation, hands splayed, eyes scanning for the narrowest exit between rusted freight cars and stacked debris, and wooden carts.

And then Gambit stepped into her path.

He didn’t raise a hand. Had no cards visible. Didn’t reach for the bo staff strapped to his back. He just looked at her, red eyes almost glowing under the yellow streetlight

“Don’ do this, chère.”

She didn’t stop.

Didn’t even hesitate.

She ducked low and lunged past him—

—only to feel his arm loop around her waist mid-sprint, catching her momentum and spinning her hard into the wall of a derailed car. He was holding back, just wanting to use enough force to stop her. But it still hurt like a motherfucker.

She gasped, the air knocked clean out of her chest, her shoulder slamming into rusted metal with a sick clang.

“Don’t make me hurt you,” he said softly, arm tightening around her middle like a steel band. “Please.”

‘Too fucking late for that.’ She thinks bitterly in her head as her body continued to thrash, desperate and fierce.

A burst of shimmering energy flickered from her palms, reading herself to break free from his grip—only for Gambit to seize her wrists in his gloved hands and pin them to the wall beside her head.

‘Son of a bitch.’

“Enough, Nightingale,” Pietro barked from across the yard, his voice ragged with effort. Sabretooth had him pinned now, but not for long—the black blur of his limbs still jerking, struggling under the larger man’s weight. “Goddammit, get off Creed—”

“Let go of me,” she hissed, still writhing, her voice gone hoarse from panic and fury as she fought tooth and nail to break Gambit’s hold.

“LeBeau, I will kill you, I swear to god-!”

He pulls her restrained wrists away from the wall of the car, the movement forceful enough to peel her entire back from the surface just for him to slam it back in with a force that makes a grunt leave her lips, and she bites her lip to restrain the whimper that want to follow.

“Chère you need to calm the hell down-”

“Fuck you-!”

That’s when she sees him from her peripheral vision. Pyro approached slowly now, arms outstretched—not threatening, not mocking, almost placating, like trying to sooth a frightened animal. His brows were drawn tight, mouth a grim line.

“You’re not gonna win this fight, love,” he said, gently now. “Not here. Not tonight.”

Her lips parted, breath catching on a sob she didn’t let out. Her wrists ached in Gambit’s grip. Her heart ached worse.

Pietro finally shoved Sabretooth off with a surge of speed and landed, panting, one arm cradling his ribs.

“Let her go,” he said, voice gravel-rough. “I’ve got her.”

Gambit hesitated.

Then slowly, he stepped back.

(Y/n) staggered forward—but not far. Pietro caught her by the elbow, not unkindly, just firm. Like a leash. Like gravity. An unstoppable force.

She didn’t look at him.

Didn’t look at any of them.

Her eyes stayed fixed on the tracks ahead—long, endless steel rails stretching toward darkness.

And the night felt colder than before.

She felt a ringing in her ear.

Sharp, high, incessant.

She didn’t know if it was from the panic attack crawling up her throat like a hand around her windpipe, or if it was from Gambit bashing her damn head—twice—into cold, unyielding steel. Probably both. Either way, it wouldn't stop.

There was an unabating throbbing at the back of her head as well. One she was desperately trying to ignore.

Her knees threatened to give out, breath rattling, but she didn’t fall. Wouldn’t give them that.

She hated this.

Hated the stifling heat of her own skin, hated the pounding of her blood in her ears, hated the hands that had touched her, gripped her, held her down.

She hated the freight yard, the scent of rust and ash, the cold press of gravel under her boots. She hated them—every last one of them. Why couldn’t they have just left her alone?

She hated the way Pietro’s hand still gripped her elbow like he was the only thing keeping her from shattering.

But most of all—

She hated herself.

For letting it happen. For not being faster. For not being stronger.

She was supposed to be better than this. She had promised herself she would never be this helpless again.

She was an X-Man, dammit.

And yet—here she was.

Surrounded. Dragged from the only sense of control she’d managed to carve out for herself in this brutal, unforgiving world. Caged like a bird with clipped wings and too much pride.

(Y/n) sucked in a breath that caught in her chest like broken glass, blinking against the pressure behind her eyes.

She was not going to cry. She doesn’t think she’d be able to survive the humiliation that would come with her breaking down into tears right now.

“Get off,” she muttered. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was steady—knife-steady. “Don’t touch me.”

Pietro didn’t move for a beat too long.

Then—slowly—he released her.

She stepped away from him like his touch burned. Like she could scrub it from her skin if she just moved fast enough.

Pyro watched her with a strange stillness now, all the fire in him dimmed to embers.

Gambit’s mouth was tight, eyes unreadable beneath the glint of shadowed red.

And Sabretooth… Sabretooth looked pleased.

Pietro’s voice came again, quiet, but with a thread of command under the weariness.

“We're leaving.”

(Y/n) didn’t answer.

Just stood there, staring at the ground. Her jaw clenched so hard it ached.

“You can walk,” Pietro said, voice a bit softer, “or someone’s going to carry you. But we’re going.”

Her fingers curled at her sides.

And after a long breath, she moved.

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supercap2319 · 1 year ago

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"So... you two are the children of that madman?" Y/N asked.

"Who? Dear old pops? You bet." Peter smiled. "He's missed quiet of few birthdays."

"That's an understatement." Lorna said, flipping a knife up and down with her powers.

"So, you have powers over magnetic fields and electromagnetic sight and other types of abilities that allow you to fly and shape metal anyway you choose." He looked at Lorna before looking at Peter. "And you have an increased metabolism and improved thermal homeostasis that allows you to perceive the world in a slow motion?"

Peter frowns. "English, please."

"You're fast. She's weird." Y/N said.

"And what are your mutant powers?" Lorna asked.

"I'm not a mutant. I'm enhanced. By a cosmic energy gem and magic I was born with." He produced a blue flame.

"Cool." Peter smiled.

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #lorna dane #peter maximoff #quicksilver #polaris #the gifted #xmen #xmen comics

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nekoannie-chan · 2 years ago

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Flesh wound

Title: Flesh wound.

Fandom: Marvel, The Gifted, X-men.

Ship: Lorna Dane X Mutant!Reader.

Word count: 241 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Lorna was hurt escaping from the Centinels.

Major Tags: Flesh wound.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @multifandom-flash, Annie-3002 & square 7:

"Only a flesh wound.”

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighsss @marvelatthisonee @caplanbuckybarness @sapphire-rogerss @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot5555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard

The deafening sound of the Sentinels chasing them was the most unbearable thing. You had lost count of the times they had had to flee from them in recent years.

Suddenly, a larger and more imposing Sentinel than the others appeared. You swallowed with difficulty; it seemed that they were modernizing their enemies. It also seemed that the robot could adapt to attacks, which made it more dangerous. In a moment of distraction, the Sentinel managed to land a blow to Polaris' side.

"Lorna!" he exclaimed, watching as she recoiled, holding her injured side. "Are you okay?"

Lorna forced a smile. "Only a flesh wound, don't worry. I'm still standing."

You gritted your teeth, frustrated that you weren't quick enough to avoid the attack. But before you could say anything, another sentry rushed at you. Polaris acted instinctively, deflecting the attack with a magnetic shield.

"It was only a flesh wound," Lorna insisted, noticing the concern in your eyes. "I'm fine, really."

But something wasn't right; they had to get out of that place immediately. Maybe Turner was nearby. You grabbed Lorna by the arm and forced her to start running. Suddenly, they saw an open portal and entered.

"I thought you would never get there," you commented when you saw Clarice.

"We had a little trouble," John said.

"Lorna is hurt," you pointed out.

Clarice nodded and took her to one of the rooms where they would check the wound.

#multifandom flash bingo #round 3 #lorna dane x reader

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sarcasticlcves · 1 year ago

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I have a Jamie Hayter fic in the works! But I'm getting back into GOT and Marvel, so I want to know who you guys wanna see me write for! mwah mwah much love! 💋

#sansa stark #sansa stark x reader #daenerys targaryen #daenerys targaryen x reader #jean grey #jean grey x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #lorna dane #lorna dane x reader

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corawithfanfiction · 8 months ago

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X-Men Next Step Is Evolution I Winter Soldier & Polaris (and Wolverine)

to my X-Men (episode 10)

episode 9 - episode 11

warning and some informations:

Hello, as I mentioned before, we are in a story that runs parallel to the MCU (we start after FATWS), but since there is no X-Men movie in the main cinematic universe (616) and I find the previous ones successful, I am trying to go in parallel with the comics.

It may contain spoilers from some of the comics in the Marvel main universe 616, but for those who haven't read them, I try not to include major events that would spoil the fun.

Now that we've officially arrived at the episodes that will take place inside the Academy, I'm here with a small character introduction section, such as who are the characters that are currently in the Academy, what are their powers, what are their appearance and their identities.

✗

the images are representative, I used actors who have played the role before or the most suitable celebrities in my head. for the casting it's free to shoot, we can take ideas and discuss them.

Charles Xavier - Charles Francis Xavier

As a mutant rights activist, he fought for peace and equality between mutants and humans against both anti-mutant people and groups such as the Brotherhood of Mutants, which advocated the domination of normal humans by mutants. Charles Xavier, who also holds PhDs in genetics, biophysics, psychology and anthropology, founded Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters to educate and provide a home for young mutants who are outcasts from society and have difficulty controlling their powers.

Xavier visits his friend Daniel Shomron, who runs a clinic for traumatized Holocaust victims in Haifa, Israel, where he meets Erik Lehnsherr, a Holocaust survivor who volunteers at the clinic, and Gabrielle Haller, whose trauma has left her in a catatonic coma. Xavier uses his mental powers to save her from her catatonia and the two fall in love. Xavier and Magneto become good friends, but neither immediately reveals to the other that he is a mutant. The two have long discussions to hypothesize what would happen if humanity faced a new race of super-powered humans. While Xavier is optimistic, Magneto's experiences in the Holocaust lead him to believe that humanity will eventually crush the new human race as it has done to other minorities. The two friends show their strength to each other as they battle Nazi Baron Wolfgang von Strucker and the HYDRA agents who kidnapped Gabrielle because she knows the location of their secret stash of gold. Magneto tries to kill Strucker, but Xavier stops him. Realizing that his and Xavier's views on mutant-human relations are incompatible, Magneto leaves with the gold. Charles stays in Israel for a while, but he and Gabrielle leave without knowing that she is pregnant with his son, who grows up to become the mutant Legion.

On Muir Island, Charles meets his ex-girlfriend Gabrielle Haller and learns that they have a child. The child, David (Legion), is autistic and suffers from multiple personality disorder and, like his father, has immense psionic powers. After Xavier helps him and his team to escape David's mind, he promises to always be there for him.

✗ Mystique - Raven Darkhölme

She was discovered by Charles Xavier, who was also a mutant like her. As a child, she was feared and ostracized by society because of her blue color, unusual patterns, red hair and yellow eyes. He accidentally enters Xavier's house and meets him there. She spends her time with Xavier until she grows up. Since society has not yet discovered Mutants, she wanders around disguised as another human. Later on, she becomes obsessed with her appearance; with Xavier's permission, she joins Eric Lencer (Magneto), whom Xavier meets by chance and with whom he helps her to take revenge, and with whom she later disagrees (Eric thinks that humans will exclude and destroy mutants, Xavier thinks the opposite). She continues her adventure with Magneto from then on.

During her years with Erik, the two fell in love, but Erik took advantage of Raven's abilities to get her to do his dirty work. During those years, Raven adopts and raises a young mutant girl that Erik and Raven have in common. Maintaining a mother-daughter relationship with Anna Maria for many years, Raven is forced to leave the X-Men again after her daughter accuses her of betrayal during a secret mission and Logan comes after her.

In a long chase that stretches all the way to Afghanistan, Logan leaves Raven for dead. But Raven somehow manages to get out of this situation and, accepting that she will not make things right with her daughter, she returns to her brother Charles and devotes herself to helping him and his son.

✗

Wolverine - James "Logan" Wowlett

James Howlett is a mutant born in Canada in the late 1880s, supposedly to John and Elizabeth Howlett. I say “supposedly” because James is actually the son of Thomas Logan, the housekeeper. Thomas, an alcoholic and abusive character, is kicked out of the mansion after his other son Dog attempts to rape a girl named Rose. Thomas, who has been drinking heavily and decides to return for revenge, arrives at the mansion in the evening, causes a riot and kills John Howlett with a rifle. This is where James' mutant powers, the claws, kick in and kill Thomas (yes, his real father). After this, James runs away with Rose and works among the miners for years under the name “Logan”. However, one day, when he accidentally kills Rose with his claws in an incident involving his old nemesis Dog, he surrenders himself to the wilderness out of grief and becomes a hermit.

Logan lives for years in the wilderness with wolves until he is captured and imprisoned in a circus. He escapes from the circus with the help of Victor Creed's (Sabretooth) brothers Clara and Saul. However, Saul wants to deliver Logan to Nathaniel Essex, the future Mister Sinister. Logan ends up killing both Nathaniel Essex and Saul (Essex does not die). After the events, Logan makes a partial return to civilization and lives with the Blackfoot Indians in Canada for a while. However, Silver Fox, the woman he was with at the time, is killed by Victor Creed. Burying his grief in his heart, he decides to join the army and serves in the Canadian army during the First World War. Later, he moves to Japan and marries a woman named Itsu and they give birth to a child named Daken. However, Logan will not know about the existence of his son for a long time for a number of reasons.

After a career as a mercenary in World War II and a stint with Captain America, Logan joins the CIA's Team X, a secret CIA team with uncanny members like Sabretooth and Omega Red. Just when he's done there, he is kidnapped by the Weapon X program while serving in the Canadian Department of Defense. His bones are encased in adamantium and his memory is completely erased.

With his bloody escape from Weapon X's grasp, history repeats itself and Logan is once again living like an animal in the wild.

He is invited to join the X-Men by Professor Charles Xavier. During his years at the academy, a love triangle between Jean Grey, Wolverine and Cyclops has been going on for a long time.

However, his life changed when Scott left the Academy, Jean disappeared for other reasons and Lorna came to the Academy.

✗

Polaris - Lorna Dane

Lorna lost her mother and stepfather in a plane crash at a young age. Lorna lost her mother and stepfather in a plane crash at a young age. She had to grow up without ever knowing her real father. The Dane family raised her and after some time, due to the events that took place, the Sentinal League started hunting mutants. Lorna was one of the first targets. The Sentinal Alliance killed the Dane family and Lorna joined the Outsiders, a Mutant organization made up of members who could not join the X-Men.

While with the Outsiders, she became Sinister's protégé and began working at the Casino. Although she did not possess mutant powers, she rose through the ranks at the Casino and became untouchable thanks to the reputation of Magneto, who she later learned was her father. During her time there, she met Remy, a thief, and they had a relationship that lasted for several years.

When Charles Xaiver took Lorna into his care, she left the Casino and her old life behind. Here she devoted herself to the health and control of her brother David's (Legion) powers. During her first years at the Academy, she had a short-lived relationship with Havok, but as their training and dreams did not align, they mutually decided to end the relationship and remain friends.

As Lorna became worn down by the constant battles between her family and her so-called father, she found a haven in Logan. Although there was no emotional connection between the two at first, they managed to heal each other's wounds and began to enjoy each other's company.

Exactly six days after the second blip took place and half the universe was restored, Lorna suffered a stroke. And the mutant genes she inherited from her father were activated. Although it is not known what triggered the genes, Lorna knows that she will have to finally come face to face with her father.

✗

Legion - David Charles Heller

While working at an Israeli psychiatric facility, Charles Xavier met a patient named Gabrielle Haller. The two had a relationship which, after an amicable ending, resulted in the birth of their son David, unbeknownst to Xavier (Gabrielle did not tell Xavier that she was pregnant).

At a young age, David was living in Paris with his mother and stepfather when his home was attacked by terrorists and his stepfather was killed. The trauma of the situation caused the first manifestation of David's mutant powers, as David burned the minds of the terrorists. In the process, he inadvertently absorbed the mind of terrorist leader Jemail Karami into his own mind. Linked to many others during their deaths, David was rendered catatonic for years. As he slowly recovered, he moved into the care of Moira MacTaggert at the Muir Island mutant research facility. The trauma (possibly linked to the nature of his reality-altering powers) had caused David's psyche to split into multiple personalities, each exhibiting different mutant abilities.

The Karami personality, which exhibited telepathic abilities, struggled for years to separate its consciousness from David's. In the process, Karami integrated most of the fragmented personalities back into David's core personality (thus ending David's catatonia). Some personalities resisted Karami, most notably Jack Wayne, a cool adventurer who was telekinetic, and Cyndi, a temperamental, rebellious girl who was pyrokinetic. Ultimately, Karami, Wayne and Cyndi continued to exist as David's most prominent alternate personalities.

During his time on Muir Island, David accessed the telekinetic abilities of the Jack Wayne persona and saved Moira and Wolfsbane from a fatal accident. However, this allowed Jack Wayne to take control of David's body and he left the island. The New Mutants tracked him down and after a struggle convinced Wayne to allow David to regain control. Shortly after, David was possessed by the Shadow King. While under the Shadow King's influence, David killed the mutant Destiny and destroyed 2/3 of the island. When the X-Men and X-Factor defeated the Shadow King, David was again left in a coma.

After much effort by Charles and the X-Men, David recovered somewhat. Under the control of his sister Lorna and other members of the family, he began to take control of his powers. And he was admitted to a clinic in New York. As unhappy as he was in the clinic, he was considered relatively good because he didn't burn people's brains out. During Blip, he was taken out of the clinic by Lorna and brought home, and in five years he was more himself than he had ever been. Until half the universe came back and continued to plague David's mind.

✗ Storm - Ororo Monroe

Ororo Munroe was born in Kenya, the daughter of N'Dare, a tribal princess, and David Munroe, an American photographer. After her mother N'Dare married, she and her father moved to Manhattan and Ororo was born there. When she was only 7 months old, she moved with her family to Egypt. When she was 5 years old, a plane crashed into their house during the Arab-Israeli conflict. Ororo was trapped in the wreckage of their house with the bodies of her mother and father, and from that day on she suffered from claustrophobia, an event that affected her greatly. Orphaned and homeless, Ororo is now alone on the streets. A member of a gang of thieves finds him and takes her to their leader, Achmed el-Gibar. Ororo learns the finer points of being a thief and soon becomes a master street thief. During this time, Ororo steals the wallet of an American tourist, not realizing that the person he is stealing from is Charles Xavier, master telepath and founder of the X-Men. Xavier stops him with a telepathic attack and Ororo barely escapes. Years later, Ororo leaves Egypt because of her great curiosity for the south. During her journey she is nearly raped by a stranger who offers her a ride to her destination, but she is forced to kill him in self-defense and from that day on Ororo vows never to take another life.

As her journey south continues, Ororo has to cover many kilometers on foot and is exhausted. As she is dying of thirst in the Sahara Desert, her mutan powers manifest themselves for the first time, making it rain in the middle of the desert. Soon after, she also develops the power to control the weather, which she uses to rescue T'Challa, the prince of Wakanda.

Storm continues her journey and eventually arrives in Kenya, her mother's homeland, where, thanks to her mutant powers, she is dubbed a goddess by many of Kenya's tribes, who begin to worship her.

After some time has passed, Charles Xavier uses his telepathic powers to locate her and travel to Kenya to convince her to join the X-Men, a group of mutants fighting for the peaceful coexistence of humanity and mutants. Ororo does not want to accept at first. But Charles Xavier manages to convince her and gives her the name “Storm”. From that day on, Ororo is called Storm and becomes part of the X-Men.

Upon Cyclops' departure from the group, she took over the leadership and proved to the whole group how successful she was in leadership with the smart decisions she made in difficult conditions and situations.

* Storm married Black Panther, the King of Wakanda, in a sumptuous wedding and left the X-Men as the queen of Wakanda. During this time, she helped her husband in many ways and ruled as a queen in Wakanda.

✗

Rogue - Anna Maria

It copies the power and memory of the person it touches with 20 times the duration of the touch. But each person leaves a part of them in their mind.

The first time she kisses her boyfriend Cody, her power is unleashed and puts him in a coma. With this fear and ostracization, she runs away from home. Mystique finds her and takes her in as her own daughter, teaching her how to use her powers. And one day these powers are given to Ms. Marvel (Carol Danvers). For some unknown reason (possibly as a result of Ms. Marvel's Kree genetics) she permanently absorbs all her powers. She can now fly as well as touch and absorb power. Her body becomes invulnerable and she is able to lift great weights. Rogue's powers then undergo another transformation, and she can now use the powers of those she has touched at will.

Rogue first fights alongside Mystique in the League of Evil Hybrids, headed by “Magneto”. Meanwhile, The Avengers, Space Paladin Rom, and eventually the X-Men clash with her and she almost single-handedly defeats the X-Men. But he escapes at the urging of Ms. Marvel in her mind, she escapes and consults Charles Xaiver. She is accepted into the X-Men. Initially met with hostility, Rogue begins to assert herself in a fight when Wolverine steps forward as if sacrificing her own life to save the life of her lover.

After this incident, a sister-brother relationship begins between her and Logan. Of course, with Logan's power to heal her, she is the only person Anna can hug and touch without fear.

Deep painful love with Gambit, not being able to touch loved ones, people to be saved, mutants… Rogue, who fights for her life between these tides, is one of the most beloved and at the same time one of the most annoying members of the Academy with her beauty and attitude.

✗

Jubilee - Jubilation Lee

Jubilation Lee was born into a wealthy Chinese family in Bevery Hills. Professionally involved in gymnastics, Jubilee's childhood years were filled with prosperity and family bliss, but they ended when her father went bankrupt. While the family was still coping, two hit men known as Reno and Molokai mistook mother and father Lee for their upstairs neighbors and murdered them. After this incident, Jubilee turned into a rebellious girl and was placed in an orphanage in Los Angeles. During her stay at the orphanage, Jubilee dealt with too many problems and caused more problems. As a result, when she was about to be transferred to a harsher orphanage, she ran away from the orphanage and started living in a shopping center hiding and stealing leaves.

Because Jubilee had become so callous because of what had happened to her family and her orphanage experience, her thefts were not hard to detect. One day mall security caught her red-handed and a chase ensued. During the chase, Jubilee became so stressed that her hands released orbs of energy, which she would later call 'fireworks', and this energy neutralized the security guards. Thus Jubilee discovered her mutant powers.

Although Jubilee finally realized that she was a mutant, she did not realize the value of her powers. So she used her powers to perform acrobatic stunts: In the shopping center where she lived in hiding, she earned money during the day with these stunts and continued to steal at night. Finally realizing that they couldn't catch Jubilee, the security guards called in the M Squad, a mutant crime squad that detains captured mutants. It was the four female X-Men, Dazzler, Psylocke, Rogue and Storm, who were shopping at the time, who rescued Jubilee as she was about to be captured by the M Squad. Admiring her rescuers, Jubilee followed them to the portal leading to their base and infiltrated the base without anyone noticing. Since this was the only way of life she knew, she continued to live in hiding at the X-Men base. However, she was soon tracked down and found by a cybernetic dog. Once captured, Jubilee focused her powers and disassembled the robot dog, the first time she had ever deliberately used her powers for violence. Jubilee traveled to the remote corners of the base to cover her tracks again, where she spotted Wolverine being tortured by the Reavers, a cyborg team, and with the help of her powers, she smuggled Wolverine into one of his hideouts. After rescuing Wolverine, Jubilee was exposed and gained the trust of the X-Men and teamed up with Wolverine on numerous missions across Asia.

✗ Emma Frost - Emma Grace Frost

Emma Frost was born in Boston, Massachusetts to wealthy Winston and Hazel Frost. She is the third of four children: her siblings are named Christian, Adrienne and Cordelia. Winston is cold, ruthless and authoritarian, often imposing impossibly high standards on his children, while Hazel abuses prescription drugs to cope with the tensions of her home. Emma receives no emotional support from either her parents or her sisters, and gets along well with her brother Christian. At school, Frost is relentlessly bullied by his peers, but finds support in teacher Ian Kendall. When his telepathic powers manifest, Frost is able to read the minds of others and gather information. Frost becomes a tutor to other students and Ian suggests that he become a teacher, which Frost's father refuses. One day on the way home from school, Frost's car breaks down and Ian gives him a ride home. Frost kisses him after reading his thoughts and learning that he thinks she is beautiful and intelligent. Her sister Adrienne records it and her father uses the evidence to get Ian fired. Frost begins to retaliate by blackmailing her father. Impressed by his actions, Winston offers him the family fortune, but Frost rejects his offer and decides to make his own way in life.

After a period of homelessness, Frost meets and falls in love with a young man named Troy, who agrees to let her live with him. She learns that he owes a large amount of money to a local gangster named Lucien. To save Troy's life, Frost agrees to participate in a fake kidnapping scheme to extort Troy's remaining debt from his father. However, this soon turns into a real kidnapping and Troy is killed while bravely trying to save Frost from the enraged Lucien. Using her powers, Frost turns the thugs against each other in an illusion, causing an imaginary gunfight to break out and a panicked, supposedly last survivor to rescue her. After Emma escapes, she anonymously calls the police and they are all taken into custody, leaving her with no memories.

Frost receives the ransom money and enrolls at Empire State University. There she begins to learn about mutants for the first time and meets her friend and mentor, fellow telepath Astrid Bloom. Frost later learns that Astrid has been secretly manipulating events. Enraged, he telepathically attacks Astrid and comes out of his coma. Frost is then invited to the Hellfire Club, an underground elite society. Frost discovers Edward Buckman and Steven Lang's plans to exterminate all mutants. Frost fights Lang's Sentinels alongside Sebastian Shaw, Lourdes Chantel and Harry Leland. Frost kills Buckman and the Council of Chosen, after which she and Shaw take control of the Hellfire Club and establish themselves as the Cardinal of the Inner Circle Lords of the Hellfire Club.

During these years, Emma meets Charles and Erik and forms a close friendship with them. Although she occasionally sided with her friends on both sides of the mutant debate, she eventually found herself helping young mutants at the Academy alongside Charles.

✗ Gambit - Remy Lebeau

Remy LeBeau was born in New Orleans, Louisiana. LeBeau was kidnapped from the hospital where he was raised by the Guild of Clan Thieves and given as a tribute to the Antiquarians because of his burning red eyes. They referred to the boy as “Le Diable Blanc” (“the white devil”) and believed he was prophesied to unite the warring Thieves and Assassins Guilds.

Soon after, Remy was placed in the care of Fagan's Mob, a gang of street thieves who raised the boy and taught him the ways of theft. After living as an orphan on the streets, 10-year-old Remy tried to pick the pocket of Jean-Luc LeBeau, then patriarch of the Thieves' Guild.

Jean-Luc took the boy off the streets and welcomed him into his family. Remy's bio-kinetic charging abilities emerged in his early teens, despite keeping his powers secret from his family and friends and keeping his powers away from prying eyes.

At the age of 15, he accompanied his half-brother Etienne Marceaux to the Thieves' Guild's ritual initiation test, the “Tithing”. However, things went wrong when they were tasked with stealing from Candra, a powerful immortal mutant who quickly captured them.

Candra recognized Remy from an encounter that took place in his past but in his future (due to a time travel mission in the 19th Century that Remy would take as an adult) and sold them to the deformed, mutant gangster and child slave trader known as the Pig, who planned to sell them and their ages to HYDRA as male soldiers. Remy used their powers to escape from the pen they were held in, but the physically enhanced Pig quickly captured them. Remy discovered his signature attack when he picked up a playing card that Etienne had dropped, filled it up and threw it at the Pig's face, taking out its eye.

Remy, who eventually escaped from his cliff-top headquarters by diving into the sea, was eventually rescued by the Guild; Etienne drowned. In an attempt to reconcile the Thieves' and Assassins' Guilds, Remy married Bella Donna Boudreaux, the granddaughter of the Assassin leader he had met at the age of 8. Unfortunately, after the wedding he was challenged to a duel by his brother Julien. In the duel, Gambit killed Julien and was banished from the city, ending his relationship with Bella Donna.

✗

Kity Pryde - Katharine Anna Pryde

Pryde has a “phasing” ability that allows him and any objects or people he comes into contact with to become intangible. This power also disrupts any electric field he passes through, allowing him to simulate levitation.

As the latest member of the school, she is universally regarded as the “little sister”.

Havok - Alexander Summer

Havok produces powerful “plasma blasts”, an ability he has difficulty controlling. One of Corsair's sons, he is the younger brother of the X-Men's Cyclops and older brother of Vulcan. He lost his parents in a car accident at an early age and was separated from his siblings and raised in an orphanage.

At first, Alex's mutant power only seemed to manifest itself when he was on the brink of death. She couldn't control it and was afraid of its immense power.

When his path crossed with Charles, he joined the X-Men. Here he was reacquainted with his brother Scott, (they were separated at a very young age and did not remember each other.) During his years at the Academy, he had a steady relationship with Lorna. However, they later decided to remain friends and ended their relationship. Because they both had separate wars and families to find.

Before the first blip, Scott left the Academy, but Alex stayed on.

Psylocke - Elizabeth "Betsy" Braddock

Elizabeth “Betsy” Braddock was born in England and raised in the small town of Maldon, Essex. Betsy was Sir James Braddock's second child, born a few minutes before his twin brother Brian. The twins and their older brother Jamie, almost ten years older, had a very privileged life. By the time she entered university, Betsy had become a charter pilot. After she and Jamie were taken hostage by Red Skull agents and freed by Captain America and Captain Britain, Betsy learned that she had a brother, Brian. Meanwhile, Betsy began to develop her powers of pre-recognition. She dyed her hair purple and began modeling. At the age of twenty-one, her psychic powers grew to include telepathy. Agent Matthew recruited Betsy into STRIKE's Psi Division and she became the lover of psi Tom Lennox. Having inherited membership in the Hellfire Club from her father, Betsy was sent to infiltrate it, but was warned by Tessa for her own protection. She also met her future boyfriend Warren Worthington for the first time at one of the Hellfire Club parties.

Betsy heard that a group of people like her were gathering under the name of the X-Mem after she got into a lot of trouble, and she moved to the X-Men mansion to rescue them, just where Roman, the Guardian of the Omniverse, needed her. When the Marauders attacked the Morlocks during the massacre of the X-Mansion, it was used as a makeshift infirmary for injured survivors. Knowing that the X-Men were in New York, Sabretooth the Marauder invaded the mansion. Psylocke used him as bait to lure him away from the wounded until the X-Men arrived to help him. As Sabretooth and Wolverine fought, Psylocke used her telepathy to gather information from Sabretooth's mind about the Marauders and their leader, Mr. Sinister. Wolverine, though initially reluctant to involve outsiders in X-Men affairs, was impressed by her courage and nominated her to join the team.

✗

White Wolf and Captain America

As the newest members of the Academy, the duo have come to the Academy as guests of Charles Xavier to keep Lorna and Remy under control and under surveillance.

Sam, the new “Captain”, learns about the existence of mutants and sets sail for new horizons and friendships. Bucky, under the new name White Wolf, will have to confront an assassination bequeathed by the Winter Soldier.

*Storm and Black Panther are a married couple in the comic book universe. I'm trying to stick to the MCU as much as possible, and I don't think I'll be able to write a fiction about Chadwick. I'll imagine him as still standing in the wonderful place we left him.

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urdreamydoodles · 8 months ago

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X-Men x Drunk!Reader (Part.2)

How they deal with their drunk s/o (Part.2)

A night out with your partner quickly turns wild as your tipsy self unleashes a little chaos around.

Characters: Wade Wilson, Cable, Hank McCoy, Colossus, Magik, Warren Worthington III, Alex Summers, Kitty Pryde, Jubilee, Psylocke, Sunspot, Lorna Dane, Domino, Dazzler & Morph

Wade Wilson aka. Deadpool

- Deadpool is absolutely thrilled by your drunk antics. The moment he notices you’re tipsy, he’s already planning a night of wild fun. He matches your energy effortlessly, encouraging every silly idea you come up with and joining in wholeheartedly. If you want to dance in the street, he’s right there, pulling off moves that are as chaotic as they are impressive.

- Your laughter and unfiltered words are music to Wade’s ears. You start complimenting him in the most exaggerated way possible, telling him he’s the funniest, hottest, most badass guy you’ve ever known. Wade pretends to be modest, fanning himself and swooning dramatically, but he’s genuinely touched by your words, even if they’re a bit slurred.

- You get the brilliant idea to dress Wade up in something ridiculous from a nearby shop, and he’s completely on board. Soon, he’s decked out in an assortment of scarves, sunglasses, and a feathery hat, posing for selfies with you. His confidence is unshakable, and the two of you end up laughing until you can’t breathe.

- When some passerby gives you a look for being loud, Wade immediately goes into “defense mode.” He makes a show of protecting your honor, using his humor and antics to both embarrass the person and make you laugh. “Nobody messes with my date,” he declares proudly, throwing an arm around you and grinning as if he just saved the day.

- At some point, you start getting sleepy, and Wade immediately notices, going from his usual zany self to surprisingly gentle. He’ll scoop you up in his arms, cracking a few jokes to make sure you’re still smiling, but his voice softens as he assures you he’ll get you home safely. You nestle into his shoulder, feeling oddly safe in his chaotic embrace.

- Once you’re home, Wade stays with you, making sure you have water and helping you settle into bed. His usual humor is still there, but there’s a quiet fondness in his actions. As he pulls the blanket over you, he murmurs, “You’re a riot, you know that?” and gives your forehead a gentle kiss before plopping himself down next to you to keep watch.

Nathan Summers aka. Cable

- Cable is instantly protective the moment he sees you’re tipsy. He’s not used to seeing you let loose like this, so he stays close, a steady presence by your side. His arm is there whenever you stumble or lean, and he keeps a watchful eye on your surroundings, not wanting anything to disturb your fun.

- You start poking fun at his serious demeanor, playfully calling him “Mr. Intense” and trying to get him to crack a smile. Despite himself, he can’t help but smirk at your efforts, even letting out a chuckle when you do an over-the-top impression of his voice. He finds your carefree attitude refreshing, even if he’s not used to it.

- Cable is a bit taken aback when you start rambling about how much you admire his strength and bravery, even calling him your “badass protector.” He’s not one for flattery, but he listens quietly, deeply moved by your words even if he doesn’t show it. He simply nods, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze as you continue.

- When someone tries to chat you up or gets a bit too close, Cable doesn’t hesitate to step in. He’s intimidating without even trying, and one look from him is enough to make the person back off. He keeps you close, his hand warm and solid on your back, murmuring, “You’re safe with me,” with a conviction that melts your heart.

- As the night winds down and you start getting drowsy, Cable insists on taking you home. He’s gentle as he helps you into his arms, carrying you like you weigh nothing. You rest your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling safe in his protective hold as he walks you back with steady, assured steps.

- Once you’re home, Cable makes sure you’re comfortable, fetching water and making sure you have everything you need. He stays nearby, his usual stoicism softened as he watches over you. As you start drifting off, he brushes a hand over your hair, murmuring, “Get some rest, sweetheart,” his deep voice surprisingly tender.

Hank McCoy aka. Beast

- Hank is both amused and concerned when he realizes you’re drunk, but he quickly adjusts, taking on the role of caretaker. He’s attentive, making sure you’re hydrated and offering you food, all while chuckling softly at your slightly slurred words and bright laughter. He finds your uninhibited state endearing, and it brings out his own softer side.

- You start playfully teasing Hank about his formal vocabulary, trying to mimic his mannerisms. He laughs, his eyes crinkling with genuine joy, and he can’t help but join in on the joke. “Oh, my dear, your imitation is most extraordinary,” he says with mock seriousness, and you both dissolve into laughter.

- At some point, you become fascinated by his blue fur, running your fingers through it and complimenting how “soft and majestic” he is. Hank is taken aback but incredibly touched, his cheeks flushing a bit as he watches you. He’s used to people being put off by his appearance, so your admiration means the world to him.

- When you start to stumble a bit, Hank is right there, steadying you with gentle hands. He’ll hold you close, a reassuring presence, and softly remind you to take it easy. You lean into him, feeling safe and comforted by his warmth, and he can’t help but smile as he wraps an arm around you protectively.

- Your laughter and openness make Hank feel cherished in a way he rarely allows himself to feel. When you ramble about how amazing and brilliant he is, he listens with a quiet smile, moved by your words. He’ll thank you with his usual grace, but there’s a hint of shyness in his voice as he murmurs, “You’re far too kind, my dear.”

- Once it’s time to head home, Hank stays by your side, making sure you’re comfortable and safe. He’ll help you settle in, bringing you a glass of water and sitting by your side until you’re ready to sleep. As you drift off, he gently brushes a hand over your forehead, his voice soft as he promises to be there when you wake.

Piotr Rasputin aka. Colossus

- When Piotr sees you’re tipsy and a bit too carefree, he’s both amused and a little concerned. His protective instincts kick in immediately. Piotr has a heart as strong as his metallic form, so he keeps a gentle but firm hand on you, making sure you’re steady as you go about your playful antics.

- You start trying to pull him into a dance, tugging at his arm and laughing at his initial reluctance. Piotr is a bit bashful about dancing, but he can’t resist you. Soon enough, he’s twirling you around with surprising grace, his booming laughter mixing with yours as he finally lets loose, if only for you.

- As the night goes on, you start telling Piotr how incredibly handsome he is, even trying to guess just how many abs he has under that metal skin. He blushes, but he doesn’t mind your flattery one bit. He responds with a soft “Thank you, my love,” finding your compliments both sweet and funny in your tipsy state.

- When someone accidentally bumps into you a bit too roughly, Piotr is quick to step in, shielding you with his massive form. He doesn’t say a word, but his sheer presence is enough to make the other person back off. You give him a wide grin, playfully thanking your “knight in shining armor,” and he laughs, ruffling your hair.

- As you start getting sleepy, Piotr doesn’t hesitate to pick you up effortlessly, cradling you in his arms like you’re made of glass. You snuggle against his chest, murmuring contentedly, and he smiles softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he carries you back home, a picture of pure gentleness despite his imposing size.

- Once home, Piotr makes sure you’re comfortable, bringing you water and even a snack in case you’re hungry. He tucks you into bed, his hand gentle as he brushes back your hair. He sits beside you, watching over you with a look of pure adoration. “Sleep well, moya lyubov,” he whispers, his voice soft and tender as he stays by your side until you drift off.

Illyana Rasputin aka. Magik

- Illyana is endlessly entertained by your drunk state. She’s more than a bit mischievous herself, so she finds your loosened inhibitions delightful, even egging you on with that sly smirk of hers. She subtly encourages your antics, ready to jump in if anything gets too out of hand but thoroughly enjoying the chaos you’re bringing to the night.

- You start talking about how incredible she is, praising her strength, her magic, and her beauty in a rambling but heartfelt way. Illyana is not one for sentiment, but your words surprise and touch her. She scoffs at first, pretending not to be affected, but she quietly pulls you closer, her hand lingering on your arm a bit longer than usual.

- When you start playfully trying to mimic her powers, making “magic” gestures with your hands, she laughs—a rare, genuine laugh that’s both warm and amused. She indulges you by creating a small, glowing orb of magic just to watch your reaction. Seeing your face light up with wonder makes her smirk proudly, her icy exterior melting just a little.

- If anyone dares to mess with you or give you a hard time, Illyana’s eyes narrow, and her voice takes on an unmistakably dangerous edge. She doesn’t need to do much; her mere presence is enough to send most people scrambling. She wraps an arm around you protectively, her expression daring anyone else to try something.

- As you start getting tired, Illyana simply opens a portal, whisking you both away from the noise and chaos. You end up somewhere quiet and peaceful, surrounded by the glow of her magic. She sits beside you, her hand resting on yours as you lean against her, and for once, she doesn’t feel the need to say anything.

- Once you’re home, Illyana makes sure you’re comfortable, a bit awkwardly but with genuine care. She may not be the type to dote, but she brings you water and even reads a few spells to help soothe you to sleep. As she watches over you, her usual guarded expression softens, and she gently murmurs, “You’re a fool…but you’re my fool.”

Warren Worthington III aka. Angel

- Warren is a bit taken aback by how uninhibited you are after a few drinks. He’s used to being the one people rely on, but tonight it’s clear you’re the one who needs looking after. He finds it endearing, though, and doesn’t hesitate to step into the role of caretaker, his wings folded protectively around you whenever he senses you might stumble.

- You start excitedly talking about how amazing his wings are, going on about how he’s “literally an angel.” Warren chuckles, charmed by your enthusiasm. He unfurls his wings just for you, letting you run your fingers along the soft feathers. He finds your awe adorable, and he watches you with a soft smile as you marvel at his wings.

- Warren isn’t one for public attention, so when you try to get him to dance with you, he’s a bit hesitant. But seeing how happy it would make you, he agrees, guiding you onto the dance floor. He’s graceful, his movements fluid and smooth, and he holds you close, making you feel like you’re floating on air as he twirls you around with practiced ease.

- When someone tries to flirt with you, Warren’s usually calm demeanor slips, and he’s immediately by your side, politely but firmly making it clear that you’re taken. He wraps an arm around your waist, his wings flaring slightly, a subtle but unmistakable display of possessiveness that leaves no room for doubt. You give him a playful smile, teasing him about being jealous, and he just shrugs, pulling you closer.

- As you start getting sleepy, Warren lifts you effortlessly, his wings unfurling as he carries you. The feel of being held in his arms, surrounded by his wings, is both comforting and exhilarating, and you rest your head against his shoulder, feeling like you’re in the safest place in the world as he flies you both home.

- Once you’re settled in, Warren makes sure you’re taken care of, bringing you water and a blanket. He sits beside you, one wing draped over you protectively. As you drift off, he brushes a gentle kiss across your forehead, murmuring, “Goodnight, beautiful.” His soft words and the warmth of his wing create a cocoon of comfort that lulls you into the most peaceful sleep.

Alex Summers aka. Havok

- When Alex notices you’re a bit tipsy and carefree, he’s immediately on alert, but there’s also a spark of amusement in his eyes. Alex has a playful side, so he’s more than happy to keep an eye on you while letting you enjoy yourself, but he’s right there, ready to catch you if you trip or get too wild.

- You start playfully challenging him, telling him you could totally take on his energy blasts. He chuckles, teasing you back, saying, “You don’t know what you’re asking for, babe.” He eventually indulges you, showing off a small burst of his powers, and you’re captivated, clapping and cheering him on like his personal cheerleader.

- As the night goes on, you get bolder, dragging Alex onto the dance floor despite his protests. He’s a bit awkward at first but eventually warms up to the idea, twirling you around and even busting out a few moves that make you laugh. His easygoing nature shines through, and he can’t help but grin as he dances with you.

- When someone tries to flirt with you, Alex becomes fiercely protective, pulling you close and giving the person a look that says “back off.” He doesn’t need to say anything; his arm around your waist speaks volumes. You grin up at him, half teasing and half smitten, as he steers you away, his arm never leaving your side.

- Eventually, when you start to get sleepy, Alex scoops you up in his arms, carrying you with ease. He whispers jokes and light-hearted teasing in your ear, trying to keep you awake just a little longer, but it only makes you smile drowsily, snuggling against him as he carries you home.

- Once you’re safe and sound, Alex tucks you into bed, a soft smile on his face as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. He lingers a bit, watching you with a fond gaze before quietly whispering, “Sleep well, sweetheart.” His fingers trail over your hand for a moment, a gentle reassurance that he’ll be there when you wake up.

Kitty Pryde aka. Shadowcat

- Kitty finds your tipsy, carefree self incredibly adorable, and she can’t stop giggling at how playful you’ve become. She’s happy to go along with the fun, but she’s also quietly making sure you don’t get into too much trouble, always one step ahead in case you need her to phase you out of a sticky situation.

- You start going on about how awesome her phasing powers are, insisting that she has the coolest abilities of any X-Man. Kitty blushes a bit at your enthusiastic praise but secretly loves it. She phases her hand through a wall just to impress you, grinning when you gasp in awe.

- When you try to get her to dance with you, Kitty is more than willing. She’s got a playful side and loves that she can let loose with you. The two of you end up creating a goofy dance routine, laughing so hard you nearly fall over, and it’s clear that she’s enjoying every second of your time together.

- At one point, you jokingly challenge her to see who can walk through the most solid objects. Kitty laughs, holding your hand and phasing you both through a wall together. You’re both in fits of laughter on the other side, and she whispers, “We make a pretty unstoppable team, don’t we?”

- When you start to get a bit tired, Kitty offers to phase you back home, giving you a playful wink as she grabs your hand. The journey home feels like an adventure in itself, with her phasing you both through shortcuts and making you feel like you’re floating on air.

- Once you’re safely home, Kitty brings you some water and makes sure you’re comfortable. She sits beside you, stroking your hand softly as you start to drift off, whispering sweet little reassurances. She gives you a soft kiss on the forehead, murmuring, “Goodnight, love,” before phasing out of the room like a guardian angel.

Jubilation Lee aka. Jubilee

- Jubilee absolutely loves seeing you tipsy and carefree, and she’s all about bringing even more chaos into the night. She’s hyped up by your enthusiasm and immediately joins in, cracking jokes and egging you on with her signature mischievous grin.

- You start going on and on about how incredible her fireworks powers are, even suggesting that she put on a little light show just for you. Jubilee, of course, can’t resist, and she lets out a small burst of colorful sparkles that dance around you. She loves seeing your face light up in awe, and she gives you a little “ta-da” with a dramatic bow.

- When you both hit the dance floor, it’s pure, unfiltered chaos. Jubilee matches your energy perfectly, spinning you around, and even busting out some hilariously wild dance moves. You’re both laughing so hard you nearly collapse, and she keeps you close, her laughter echoing over the music as the two of you revel in the moment.

- Eventually, you get it in your head that you want to make everyone in the room your friend, and Jubilee happily helps you out, introducing you to random people and hyping you up. She playfully calls herself your “wingwoman,” and it’s clear that she’s enjoying every second of being part of your night’s shenanigans.

- When you start getting tired, Jubilee wraps her arm around your shoulders, guiding you out with a laugh. She creates little fireworks along the way, lighting up the path back home like a mini parade, and you can’t stop smiling at her dedication to making the night special for you.

- Once home, she grabs you some water and a snack, plopping down beside you with a grin. She keeps chatting with you, telling you funny stories and making you laugh until your sides hurt. Eventually, she tucks you in, leaning down to give you a sweet, gentle kiss on the cheek as she whispers, “Night, party animal. Sleep tight.”

Betsy Braddock aka. Pyslocke

- Betsy doesn’t mind letting loose every now and then, but seeing you so uninhibited and tipsy takes her by surprise. She’s amused and a little cautious, watching you with that poised, mysterious smile of hers. Still, she stays close, enjoying the show as you reveal your playful side, a side she rarely gets to see.

- When you start waxing poetic about how stunning she looks—even more than usual—she chuckles, her cheeks tinged with a slight blush. Betsy can’t help but be a bit flattered by your enthusiasm. She teases you about your "poetry skills," but she can tell that you mean every word, and it melts her usually guarded heart.

- You insist she show off her psychic knife, asking if she can make one for you, too. Betsy humors you by creating a small, harmless flicker of energy, making sure to keep you at a safe distance. You’re mesmerized, watching the glowing psychic blade in awe, and she finds it endearing how fascinated you are.

- When you suggest a dance, she’s initially hesitant but eventually gives in. With that elegant, graceful way of hers, Betsy leads you across the dance floor, guiding you effortlessly through the music. Even as you stumble or laugh, she’s right there, keeping you steady and making sure you have a good time.

- When someone makes an offhand comment about you, Betsy’s expression hardens instantly. She sends the person a piercing glare that’s enough to make anyone think twice, subtly standing protectively in front of you. You may not notice it in your tipsy state, but she’s got her watchful eye on everyone around, making sure you’re safe.

- Once you’re both back home, Betsy gently helps you out of your shoes, her touch tender as she cares for you. She brings you water, brushing her hand softly over your cheek as you start to drift off. Before leaving, she sits beside you, fingers tracing gentle patterns on your hand, whispering a soft, “Goodnight, love,” before making her way to the door, leaving you feeling safe and cherished.

Roberto da Costa aka. Sunspot

- Roberto finds your tipsy antics absolutely hilarious and can’t resist playing along. He’s laughing the entire time, keeping up with your energy and encouraging you with that charming, mischievous grin of his. If there’s anyone who loves a night of fun and chaos, it’s Roberto.

- You go on and on about how his solar-powered abilities are the coolest thing ever, insisting he show off. Roberto is more than happy to oblige, creating a small burst of flame in his hand just for you. He loves seeing your eyes widen in awe, and he playfully asks if you’d like him to light up the whole room, winking as you cheer him on.

- When you challenge him to a dance-off, Roberto is all in, no hesitation. He matches you move for move, spinning and twirling you with ease, laughing as you both let loose. You feel like the only two people in the world, his attention completely on you as he guides you across the dance floor like it’s your own personal party.

- Someone tries to cut in, and Roberto immediately places himself between you and the stranger, giving them a polite but firm smile. “Sorry, they’re with me.” His protective side shines through as he keeps his arm around you, making it clear to everyone else that you’re spoken for.

- When you start getting sleepy, Roberto insists on carrying you back to the car, making the journey feel like some grand, romantic adventure. He jokes about being your “knight in solar-powered armor,” and you can’t help but giggle as he makes dramatic declarations about keeping you safe.

- Back home, Roberto gently helps you get comfortable, bringing you a glass of water and sitting beside you with a warm, soft smile. He stays with you until you fall asleep, his hand holding yours, murmuring sweet, affectionate words in Portuguese, promising to be there for you every step of the way.

Lorna Dane aka. Polaris

- Lorna can’t help but laugh when she sees you tipsy and carefree. She’s usually the one in control, but seeing you this way brings out her more relaxed side. She’s right by your side the whole time, playfully teasing you but also making sure you’re safe and sound.

- You start gushing about how amazing her green hair and magnetic abilities are, saying she looks like some ethereal goddess. Lorna just chuckles, brushing her hair back a little as she accepts your compliments, enjoying every bit of your enthusiastic admiration. She might act like it’s nothing, but she loves how much you adore her unique qualities.

- When you ask her to “do something cool” with her powers, Lorna grins, indulging you by making small objects float around in the air. She even creates a little magnetic bracelet just for you, slipping it onto your wrist with a wink as you beam with excitement, promising to wear it as your "superpowered good luck charm."

- On the dance floor, Lorna keeps you close, guiding you with that gentle but confident touch of hers. She laughs softly every time you stumble or lose your balance, steadying you with a smile and a quick, reassuring squeeze of your hand. Her presence feels grounding, even in the chaos of the night.

- When someone tries to cut in or grab your attention, Lorna’s protectiveness kicks in. She uses her magnetic abilities subtly, creating a little magnetic field to guide the person away. You may not notice, but she’s fiercely guarding you the whole time, unwilling to let anyone disrupt your night together.

- Back home, Lorna makes sure you’re comfortable, brushing a hand through your hair and settling you into bed. She sits beside you for a while, stroking your cheek softly and watching over you as you drift off. Her voice is soft as she murmurs, “Sleep well, my love,” promising to be right there when you wake up, her devotion evident in every quiet, caring gesture.

Neena Thurman aka. Domino

- Domino finds your tipsy antics absolutely hilarious and encourages you to let loose even more. She’s always been a fan of chaos, and watching you dance and sing off-key is a welcome distraction from her usual intense life. With a wicked grin, she keeps the drinks flowing, ready to match your energy.

- When you start complimenting her on how badass she is, she raises an eyebrow, clearly flattered but playing it cool. “You’re just saying that because you’re drunk,” she teases, but her smile tells you she appreciates your admiration. The way you look at her ignites a spark of warmth in her heart, and she can't help but playfully flex her muscles.

- You challenge her to a game of chance, tossing dice or playing cards, and she dives in, ready to show off her luck manipulation. Every time she wins, she leans in closer, whispering playful taunts and insisting that her luck has nothing to do with the drinks you’ve both had. Your laughter fills the air as you keep the playful banter going.

- Domino is always on the lookout for potential trouble, and if someone gets too close or too handsy, her protective instincts kick in immediately. She’ll casually place herself between you and the unwanted attention, throwing a nonchalant smirk over her shoulder while making it clear that she won’t tolerate any nonsense when it comes to you.

- When the two of you step outside for some fresh air, she pulls you in close, an arm around your waist as you both lean against a wall. Under the stars, she talks about her life, her past, and her battles, but she keeps it light, interspersing her stories with humor. You can see the softer side of her, the one she usually hides behind her tough exterior.

- After the night winds down and you’re both back home, Domino helps you settle onto the couch, bringing you a glass of water and an extra blanket. She curls up beside you, letting her head rest against yours, and in this quiet moment, she reveals a vulnerability she rarely shows, murmuring about how nice it is to let go every once in a while.

Alison Blaire aka. Dazzler

- Dazzler is a whirlwind of energy, and your tipsy antics only add to her excitement. She thrives on fun, and seeing you so carefree inspires her to embrace her inner party girl even more. Together, you create a raucous atmosphere that lights up the night, her laughter ringing like music as she encourages you to dance wildly.

- As you start gushing about how amazing her powers are and how she lights up the stage, she beams, clearly flattered by your compliments. “You should see me when I’m performing,” she responds playfully, a twinkle in her eye. The way you admire her makes her feel like a superstar, and she wants to show you just how dazzling she can be.

- When you suggest a karaoke battle, Dazzler jumps at the chance, pulling you onto the stage without hesitation. She brings her own flair, using her light-based powers to create a dazzling show around you, turning the room into a vibrant spectacle. Together, you sing your hearts out, her voice harmonizing beautifully with yours, creating a moment that feels like magic.

- If anyone tries to rain on your parade or come between you two, Dazzler’s fierce side comes out. With a swift movement, she sends a burst of light in their direction, enough to make them reconsider. “Back off, I’m with my number one fan!” she declares, standing protectively in front of you while keeping a playful edge to her tone.

- When you start getting sleepy, Dazzler notices right away, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “Hey, don’t worry! I’ll take care of you,” she reassures, guiding you back to her place. With her, you feel safe and cherished, and she quietly hums a gentle tune as she helps you settle in.

- As the night winds down, Dazzler plays soft music in the background, her light powers creating a warm, cozy ambiance. She sits beside you, brushing her fingers through your hair, whispering sweet words about how much fun she had. You can feel her affection enveloping you like a soft blanket, and you drift off with a content smile, knowing you’re in the company of someone who truly cares.

Kevin Sydney aka. Morph

- Morph is all about having fun, so when he sees you a little tipsy, his eyes light up with mischief. He can’t resist joining in on your antics, turning himself into all sorts of funny characters and making you laugh uncontrollably. His playful nature only fuels your own silliness, and together, you’re a force of comedic chaos.

- As you drunkenly rave about how hilarious he is and how you love his powers, Morph goes overboard with the impressions. “You think I’m funny? Just wait until you see my best Wolverine impression!” He starts mimicking Logan’s gruff voice, making exaggerated gestures that leave you in stitches, tears streaming down your cheeks from laughter.

- You challenge him to a transformation contest, and he jumps at the opportunity. Each transformation is more ridiculous than the last—one moment he’s a giant balloon animal, the next he’s a famous movie star. Every time he shifts forms, you’re there, cheering him on and giggling at his antics, completely caught up in the joy of the moment.

- If someone approaches you two with less-than-friendly intentions, Morph’s protective side surfaces in a comically exaggerated way. He transforms into a hulking monster, looming over them and growling with faux menace. “You want some of this?” he bellows, cracking you up even more while also warding off any unwanted attention.

- Once the chaos of the night calms down, Morph helps you back to his place, where he makes sure you’re comfortable. He finds a blanket and wraps it around you, making a joke about “keeping his favorite human warm.” It’s sweet and silly, and you can’t help but smile at the genuine care he has for you.

- As you begin to drift off, Morph leans in, his usual playful demeanor softening as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “You’re pretty great, you know that?” he whispers, his voice low and sincere. He stays by your side, watching over you as you sleep, feeling grateful for the fun-filled night and the bond you share.

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