#fandom: marvel

Generally, I'm of the opinion that Magik is physically affectionate. While she's not all over you all the time, she is definitely *not* shy and she *will* kiss you on the mouth, cheek, forehead or give you a massive hug when she wants to. Boldness is simply a part of her, and she doesn't see the point in a relationship if she can't show off her love for you.

Illyana prefers kissing and hugging you to you kissing and hugging her, more of a giver than a receiver. In all the senses of the phrase. But, that doesn't mean she dislikes it when you do want to take a step forward. I think she just has a preference for holding you and keeping you safe.

The exception is probably hand holding. Magik is a fan of it if you or her need comfort, or if she's leading you, but other than that she would accept you holding her hand more than she'd go out of her way to initiate hand holding.

I think Magik would have many different kinds of petnames for you, depending on who you are as a person / in a relationship and the situation at hand. It'd be a mix of English and Russian, but she'll always lean toward her native tongue.

Generally, she'd call her boyfriend Лучик – luchik, which means sunray. Essentially, she sees you as a light in her life, possibly even *the* light of her life. It's a safe nickname because it's not really dependent on who you are as a guy, just who you are to her. And, that's all that matters to Illyana.

Котенок – kotyonok meaning cat (kitten), or котик – kotik, which just means cat, would be her go-to for a feisty or confident partner. If you're particularly strong and do something to impress her, it'd be upgraded to Лев – Lev, meaning lion!

She'll call you Зайчонок – zaichonok, meaning bunny, if you're energetic and a more bounce off the walls kind of guy. Though, this also just extends to when you show any kind of happiness above normal.

When you do something particularly affectionate, or give her a gift, she'll give you a peck on the cheek and call you Сахарок – sakharok, meaning sugar piece.

Her verbal affection is probably less intense and less often than physical, but Illyana likes praising you just as much. Using the petnames above, and with a hand snaked around your waist or hanging off your shoulders, expect her to say you look good. Or you've done well during a mission / work / whatever you've just done.

However, she's incredibly blunt. Of course, if you're a more sensitive person she'll try to flower up her language and lessen the blow of reality, but she hates coddling people. When you do something she doesn't like, she will tell you, and she won't be shy about it. If the truth hurts to swallow, she'll hold your hand while you do, but she isn't going to make you spit it out.

Expect to get along with Colossus. You and her will *not* stay together long if you don't. She values her family and she won't break up with you just for not being best friends with him, but she will be upset if you don't like and especially if you hate each other.

Illyana would prefer for you to be another hero of some kind. If not an outright hero, just somebody who she's sure can defend themselves. Sure, some basic defense training would be good, but also, this is a world with planet eating giants. She can't always be there for you, even if she wants to be, so the less pressure she feels to mother hen you, the better.

Not that she's outright against dating a civilian. If she felt a strong enough connection she would most likely take that risk, but she would be a bit overprotective. Not enough to feel overly smothering, but it might start to nag at you if you're more sensitive to being coddled.

I feel like Magik would love more personal dates, like staying at home and playing games for example, than she would going to fancy restaurants. It's just not something she personally cares for. If you want to? Sure! She can go, but she won't be quiet about how it's not her style. If she is going out to eat, it'll probably be a burger joint or another kind of crappy fast food place.

Speaking of, her favourite pastime is chilling on the couch with you and watching / playing something. Whether it's bingeing a show, or renting a new movie, or whatever you can think of. If it's casual, on a couch, with the TV and with you, she likes it.

Bonus points if you get takeaway.

At some point between her fleeting moments of consciousness, a presence appears at her side. They're saying something nonsensical to her addled brain, but the tone of the words is calm. Steady. Something she can hold onto.

Not an enemy.

There are hands pressing into the place where the bullet shredded through her stomach, and she gasps when sudden pressure spikes her pain to a thousand, instantly clearing the fog.

"Where's the target?" Maria forces through gritted teeth, trying to turn her head, but all she sees are alley walls now darkened in shadow.

Then, her gaze drifts up to meet piercing green eyes.

The Black Widow. SHIELD's newest recruit. After reading about all the things she's done and all the headaches she's caused SHIELD, Maria had serious reservations about letting her into their ranks.

But Nick Fury didn't agree.

And now, that same woman is holding Maria's life in her hands and doesn't seem to be letting go any time soon.

"Gone," the Widow says, as casually as discussing the weather.

"What?" Maria tries to smack away the hands holding her insides together, but her attempts glance off ungracefully, slippery with blood, and her arms flop back onto the concrete. "What are you doing? Go after him."

Of all the circumstances Maria imagined her blood staining the Black Widow's hands, she admits this hadn't even made the list. She winces as the pressure increases, and a groan tears through her lips.

"Quit moving, Hill. I'm trying to save your life."

In hindsight, she blames the blood loss. Or the frustration at being rendered fundamentally useless. Or just her stupid brain, which thought it would be a good idea to reply, "Why? Got tired of taking them?"

It startles the other woman, which manifests as a tiny twitch of a finger that Maria wouldn't have noticed if those hands weren't pressing into her.

The answer that follows catches Maria equally off-guard.

"Yes," says the Widow.

Natasha, Maria's mind provides. She heard Barton call her that in the mess hall when they stole a table for themselves in the corner, away from all the other agents who didn't want anything to do with them. Maria remembers the subtle softening of her eyes when he used it—Natasha—like the woman wasn't used to letting anyone close enough to hear a diminutive of her own name.

"Extraction in five," Natasha supplies, quirking an eyebrow. "Try not to die before then."

Maria coughs. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Shut up."

Through the haze, Maria takes note of the tight press of Natasha's lips and the crease between her eyebrows, bordering something close to worry. She always assumed the Black Widow wasn't capable of such things; words like heartless and cruel come to mind, a blackened stain on the woman's image that all SHIELD agents seem to share.

Of course, Maria has never been afraid to admit when she's wrong.

"Thank you."

Natasha's eyes widen, only slightly and just for a split second, before it's gone. The sigh she releases is almost fond, her lips twitching in amusement. "What did I just say?"

"I know, I know." Maria swallows down all the pain and the nausea, bracing herself through the agony of another breath. But she needs to drive this point home, and she refuses to look away when her lips form around the words, "Thank you anyway."

It feels like a lifetime, the way they stare into each other's eyes.

Natasha's hands are still tight on her stomach, sealing in her lifeblood. Maria thinks of the other things those hands are capable of—how they could reach inside her wound and finish the job with the kind of ruthlessness detailed in those Black Widow reports, or how they could let go entirely and witness the last breaths Maria would ever take.

They do neither of those things.

This is the closest they've ever been, and Maria can count the freckles across her cheeks and over the bridge of her nose, speckled like stars in the night sky. Or fireflies, like the forest behind her grandmother's house on those warm summer nights.

Maria reaches out to touch, but she barely manages a twitch before her hand slumps back down.

"Don't. Move."

"M'not," Maria mumbles.

"Liar."

Her vision begins to go dark, and there's shouting and hurried footsteps at the entrance to the alley.