#x men reader insert

Your bare feet treaded lightly as you descended the stairs, your hands running over the lengthy garland that was wrapped around the railing. Soft yellow lights lit your path like pixies twinkling in the night.

During the daylight hours, the halls were bustling with excited students playing with their toys. The very air buzzed with energy as swarms of little faces passed you.

Those faces… Those smiles… They had become home.

It wasn’t just the familiarity of your surroundings- knowing each room and how to get there. It was the fact that these walls protected the ones you’d come to love. Made them comfortable. Provided security for them. Helped to create a space for them to reach for their full potential.

The evening hours were a stark contrast to the holiday excitement. Quiet. Tranquil. 

Most everyone that dwelled and learned there were fast asleep- tired out from the day’s activities, and yet, hopeful and anticipating what the next day would bring.

It was in that quiet time that you had the house to yourself in a way. Of course, there were times when you’d encounter another soul who couldn’t sleep or was simply enjoying the peace just as you were. With the traumas and tragic histories that those who attended the academy tended to have, it wasn’t unheard of. But it seemed tonight, everyone under that roof found themselves enjoying peaceful slumber.

You paused at the bottom of the stairs once you’d made your descent, peering around.

Well, almost everyone. There was one you expected to be awake yet.

You reached one of the common rooms, feeling your heart skip a beat when you saw him sprawled out rather comfortably on the couch as he waited for your approach, his head resting on a throw pillow as he gazed at the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree.

Logan’s exceptional hearing alerted him of your presence and he turned, eyebrows raised, to greet you.

“Hi,” you whispered, crossing the room as quickly as you could without your footsteps making noise. He lifted his arms invitingly, allowing you to drape yourself against his side on the couch.

“Hey,” he murmured against your hair. “What took you so long?”

“It was five minutes,” you countered playfully.

“Yeah, well, it felt like five years.” His arms encircled you, giving you a squeeze that pressed you tighter against him. You shut your eyes and drank in the steady thump-thump of Logan’s heart and the way his chest rose and fell with each deep, tired breath he took. That and his scent- a sort of teakwood mingled with notes of a warm musk- was a deadly combination that might have you falling asleep within the next ten or so minutes. Especially after the busy last few days you’d had.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, noticing how quiet you were.

“Do you think the kids had a good Christmas?” you asked. So much had gone into preparation. You’d been so busy with wrapping gifts, making preparations for the holiday meals, and organizing activities for the students that the quiet was almost unsettling. While you’d been so thrilled with your work, your mind now seemed keen on reflecting on your efforts and nitpicking every little detail that you previously hadn’t had an opportunity to address.

“You kiddin’ me?” Logan asked in disbelief. “Everyone had a blast. Students and staff included.”

“Really?” You shifted to glance up at him. His brows furrowed in confusion as he tilted his head down.

“Yeah. Why would you think otherwise?”

“Nothing major. I just noticed some of the gift wrapping wasn’t the best. The potatoes at dinner were kind of dry…” You counted the items on your fingers as you listed them aloud. Logan took hold of your hand before you could count any more, entwining his fingers with yours.

“Woah, woah, there.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, murmuring in that low voice of his, “I must’ve seen hundreds of smiles today. Too many to count. You were a big part of making that happen.”

Your heart fluttered, and he continued.

“Now, some of these things you’re talking about, I don’t think that’s the case. At least, I didn’t notice. The potatoes were good. All the gifts were wrapped with care. Not to mention shredded open before anyone could hold them under a magnifying glass and check.”

That made you chuckle, and Logan moved to kiss your cheek. “You’re right.” Breathing a sigh of relief, you let go of the doubts that had attempted to plague you in the aftermath of your victory. “Thank you, Logan.”

He gazed down at you again, his dark eyes set aglow by the soft lights. “You did good. Let yourself enjoy it.”

You leaned up to press your lips against his, and Logan in turn cupped your cheek as he deepened the kiss. What tension had begun to set in your muscles melted away, and you relaxed fully in his arms. Letting your head rest against his flannel shirt, you huffed in amusement.

“I’m in danger now,” you whispered.

“Hm?”

“With nothing to worry about, I am inclined to fall asleep.”

“Then sleep.” His hand began to rub up and down your back soothingly, tempting you further. “Winter break is still on tomorrow.”

Classes wouldn’t start up again until after New Year’s day, so you’d have time to recuperate.

You sighed deeply at the realization, letting your eyes flutter closed. “Alright, then. I’m convinced.” Craning your neck to sneak in one last kiss on his lips, you whispered, “merry Christmas.”

    When the keys are plopped carelessly into your hands, they’re cold. They’re still cold, two weeks later when you finish moving in. It wasn't a fancy affair, no movers or big trucks, just some friends and the van they borrowed from the school. Truthfully, you didn’t really have a lot anyway. Most of them had honestly only shown up to offer their condolences for your loss.

    Your groceries feel heavier than normal when you set them on the kitchen counter, stepping back with a sigh. Never in your wildest dreams would you have even imagined of living in a place like this. You’d never even visited Aunt Maude’s house- Your, house. Sure, you and the rest of the family all knew she was well-off, but no one had a clue that when the will was read she had left you a Victorian-era mansion along with her estate. Even you hadn’t until you googled her address after the lawyer gave you the keys. 

    As surprising as it was, it was definitely your Great-Aunt Maude’s house. Every bathroom, bedroom, living space, You could see her in all of it. She was kooky and eclectic, with a love for all things strange and unusual. It was comforting, almost. To be wrapped in a house filled with the remnants of your aunt. Your eyes sting as you begin to fill up the long empty fridge, organizing it to your liking. You close the door and see your graduation photos stuck to it, along with a photo strip from the photo booth she dragged you into at your sweet sixteen. You suck in a shakey sob, tears welling in your eyes for what feels like the millionth time that day. You’re sad, and exhausted, and you haven't even unpacked yet, most of your belongings set in boxes in the Sitting room and Hallway.  But you just… couldn’t bring yourself to bother. Everything that was cold was already put in the fridge, so you decided the rest can wait till the morning.

    You trudge up the stairs with as much energy as you can muster, and when you finally make it to the master bedroom, you’re ready to pass out. The room is decorated in a way that feels much more like you than it felt like your Aunt, and you notice that the quilt on the bed was one she had shown you at Christmas one year. One you told her you very much envied. It was like she had made the room your own before she even stepped foot into the nursing home. The thought is enough to choke you up again. You crawl underneath the soft covers in a pretty pitiful manner, falling asleep almost immediately. 

    It’s only when you wake up the next morning that you start to notice something strange about this house. 

    The kitchen is a somewhat long walk from the upstares bedroom, and you’re basically starving by the time you get downstairs. You yawn as you grab the milk out of the fridge, still feeling half asleep as you turn around to grab the cereal off the counter only to find it… gone. In fact, all of the groceries you had left on the counter yesterday were gone.

     The realization is like a shot of ice through your veins. What the fuck?… You must have put them away last night, right? But you knew they were on the counter when you went to bed. You feel like you’re going to throw up, thinking about the chance that a burglar had broken in last night and you hadn’t heard it because you were upstairs. You sprint to the sitting room taking note of all your boxes and things, making sure to double-check that your TV was actually there and not a figment of your imagination, but it was definitely solid. You cautiously walk back to the kitchen, staring at the pantry door for an anxious moment before biting the bullet and swiftly opening it.

    All your groceries were in place. All are organized neatly exactly where you would have preferred them to be. Strange. You must have woken up last night and done it. Right? It wouldn’t be too absurd to assume you had put the groceries away half-asleep and forgotten about it. That had to be it. It’s not like someone broke in last night just to put your groceries away. Now that was just plain ridiculous. 

    From then on out, The strange things only seemed to continue.

    Sure, a house this old wasn’t without a general peculiarity about it, but after being told it hadn’t been inhabited since Aunt Maude put herself into inpatient care, it should be dusty, right? A home of this size, cluttered with the many odds and ends she had collected over the years? You’d never heard of a house that could dust itself. Your hands wander more than ever as you traverse the mansion, they run down the banister, across the pretty wallpaper, even taking a swipe at a shelf or two, and still, they’re clean. Not a smudge or spec of dirt on your fingers. 

    Strange, but not unexplainable. Maybe she had scheduled a cleaning service to take place after her death or something. You didn’t know. But a week goes by. Then two and then three, and everything is still spotless. And that was the least of it. Lights seemed to turn off by themselves at night. Things that you’re sure you heard fall were placed upright. If you forgot to turn the oven off, it would already be cool by the time you ran back into the kitchen- and the house constantly smelled like sulfur and brimstone. At this point, you’ve called the fire department so many times worried about a gas leak that they think you’ve gone crazy. 

    You just felt… Uneasy. Like you were being watched.

    “I feel like I’m losing my mind, Jean.” You watch as the redhead tries to hide a smile on the other side of the Facetime call, and you can’t help but pout a little when she inevitably laughs. Your little image on the top part of the camera must look rather ridiculous, hands tangled in some string lights you had found in the closet. As strangely organized and spotless as everything was, it seems that the Christmas lights in the back of the closet weren’t so lucky. Yay for you. 

    “Look, you’re just overthinking things. Don’t stress out about it.” Jean says, ever the voice of reason. You know she’s probably right. “Besides, you’ve been through a lot lately. It’s not abnormal for stress to do weird things to the mind.”

    “Yeah, I guess so.” You mumble. Detangling these lights is beginning to be a bit trickier than you first expected them to be. Each tangle and loop seems to be interconnected, and no matter how gently or firmly you are with the cords, another knot seems to form with every probable success. You sigh in annoyance, and Jean raises an eyebrow at you. 

    “Do I need to ask about the Christmas lights?” You’re about ready to give up on them when she asks, dramatically dropping them in your lap.

    “Well, remember how I was gonna throw that big Halloween party this year?” Jean hums in response. “Well, turns out that all the decorations I had for the apartment only cover like, an eighth of the house. I’ve been rummaging around in the closets all day to try and find something that might work and all I’ve been able to find is this.” You hold up the old, tangled lights for her to see.

    “That’s weird. With what I know about your Aunt, you’d think that she’d have a ton of decorations.” Jean mentions. You groan loudly, pressing your palms into the round edges of your eyesockets in frustration. 

    “Exactly! She loved Halloween, and with a house like this, there’s no way she’d just leave it bare. I’ve raided practically every closet and storage room in the house and haven’t found anything at all.” You almost shout the words, exasperated at this point. You knew for a fact Aunt Maude had to have something. It didn’t matter if it was even one of those awful animatronic jumping spiders at this point, you’d take anything if it meant you wouldn’t have to tap into your inheritance to decorate this big ass house (because there was no way in hell you weren’t going to decorate, you’d never disgrace your Aunt’s memory like that.). Jean is quiet for a moment, looking sympathetic through the screen. To be honest, as much as you value Jean’s advice, you’re beginning to think she’s got nothing to help you until-

    “Are you sure there’s not an attic or anything?”

    The thought makes you pause.

    “Oh my god, I’m an actual idiot.” You practically shriek the words, quickly standing from the floor and shoving the Christmas lights to the side as you run to get some shoes on. The attic! God, you feel so stupid for not thinking of it before! All you had to do was find the access hatch!

    “Just be careful though! Even though the house is renovated, that doesn’t mean-”

    “I’ll call you later, Okay? I’m gonna go look upstairs!”

    “No no no, don’t-”

    It takes you forever to find that damn attic. You’d think that it would be easy to find, seeing that it’s sort of an important structure in this house, but nooo. It’s been almost a month since you moved in, and yet you still feel like you’re lost while you wander around the third floor. How hard could it be to find a simple hatch? You feel like you’re looking in all the wrong places, and you know you probably are. You’re pacing around one of the third-floor bedrooms looking at the ceiling when a noise from the billiards room across the hall makes you freeze. 

    Were those footsteps?

    No, you were home alone. It couldn’t be. 

    Still, the sound leaves you on edge. You stalk across the hallway, stopping at the door to the other room as you briefly debate on how to open it. A small shuffle from the ceiling makes you jump a little, and you quickly decide, Fuck it. We ball. 

    You swing the door open with a bit more force than necessary and find the room… empty. Right. Of course, it was. You sigh in relief, running a stressed hand through your scalp as you take in the sight of the room for the first time since your original walk-through of the home. 

    In your brief scan of the room, you manage to spot a small string hanging right above the pool table, swinging back and forth. You slowly look up, and there it is. The fucking attic hatch. 

    “Oh god damn it. Was it really that easy to find?” You mumble to yourself, wondering if you really were just that stupid. 

    It doesn’t take a lot of time to move the pool table over so that you can open the latch and pull the rickety old ladder down. It looked more modern than most of the house, but it was easy to tell it was about as old as you were. You take a moment to just stare into the black hole in the ceiling, wondering if all this was really worth it. Well, you already spent all this time looking for the thing, so…

    You’re a little extra careful as you climb the ladder up into the attic, using the flashlight in your phone to light the way the further you go. The attic is a little bit dustier than the rest of the house, but to be honest, it was cleaner than you were expecting. It's dark and cramped, but once you fully enter you find that you can at least stand up to your full height. The excitement of finding the place has begun to wear off, and you start to feel a little flighty as you look around and the light from your flashlight shifts. This is okay. It’s fine. You’re fine. Maybe she had lights installed, right? You look up at the roof and are thankful to see those long, industrial fluorescent lights screwed to the ceiling. Thank god. 

    It takes a minute of stumbling and carefully following the wires to a corner of the attic, doing your best not to trip over anything along the way, and you find a small light switch in the corner of the room. You breathe a sigh of relief as you flick it on, and the lights overhead blink and light up. That’s a bit better!

    You find that Aunt Maude’s attic is cluttered with various random items, some older, others a bit more modern. The exercise bike and the Zumba tapes made you laugh a little as you passed them by, while some older cloth dolls and bunnies just made you uncomfortable. You’re not really sure where to start the search, so you just walk around for a minute. One of the lights overhead is starting to flicker a little, and you’re inwardly hoping that there’s no faulty wiring or anything that might start a fire when your foot catches on something.

    “Oh Shit!”

    There’s not a lot of time for you to catch yourself when you fall, eating absolute shit as you fall face-first into a stack of boxes. You smash your nose into something particularly hard when you land, and there’s a variety of shapes sticking into your sides that have sprouted from the smashed boxes below you. Ow, ow ow! God damnit! This is what you get for not listening to Jean. You feel a little dizzy as you sit up amongst the boxes, holding your nose tightly while you wonder if you just broke it. Your eyes are blurry from the pain, and it takes a second for you to fully come to.

    “What the hell did I just fall into?” You’re blinking away the blurriness as the sight in front of you finally starts to clear, A bunch of broken boxes now greeting you. Boxes that now had a bunch of plastic bones sticking out of the torn sides. You make a fairly embarrassing noise of excitement when you realize you had found exactly what you were looking for in the first place. The Halloween decorations!! Thank god! You were so unbelievably happy to find them that you couldn’t help but reach forward and look through the boxes immediately. 

    After thoroughly inspecting the contents, you realize that there were about eight large boxes of Halloween decorations in total. Motherfucking eight! This was perfect! The only thing was that there was still one little issue: getting them downstairs. You try not to think about those rickety ladders too hard as you move each box to a place a little easier to get to. Your back is already aching when you’re done for the moment, so you decide to sit down on the floor and lean back a little, catching your breath while looking at those eight, somewhat heavy boxes you were gonna have to fool around with in just a moment. Your foot nudges something as you do so. Hm. 

    Sitting up a little bit, you can see that it’s a floorboard, just sticking out a little bit. Oh! Guess that’s what you tripped over earlier. You try and press it back down with your foot, and that definitely doesn't work. Damn. Hopefully, you could find a hammer or something to tack it back down. You scoot over to get a better look when you notice that there’s something underneath, a dark blue color just faintly catching your eye. Curious, you lift the board a little, and after a tug or two, it gives way.

    You find an old, leatherbound book underneath. It’s got no clear name on the cover or the spine, simply a rune or emblem of sorts burned into the upper left corner. Finding it a bit strange, you flip open the cover, thinking that it must be a diary or something left by the original owners as a time capsule of sorts- but it’s not. Every page in the book is blank except for the very last one. This book is not what it has been. When the Veil strains thin will the ink be seen.

    Weird, but okay. You assume it’s a novelty or a trick or something, but it looks spooky enough, so you gently set it in one of the more empty boxes of Halloween decorations. Now it was time for the hard part.

    You drag one box at a time to the ladder, and looking at the size of them vs. the skinny steps below you, you wonder just how the hell Aunt Maude got these up here in the first place. Just thinking about getting these downstairs is intimidating, but you were never a quitter. One by one, you carefully take each box down, making sure to never carry more than you can handle and to keep a good grip on the ladder no matter what. After about 20 minutes, you get about halfway through. Four boxes down, four to go. Your arms are getting a bit tired and you’re a bit sweaty from the lack of AC in the attic, but you think you’ve got it. 

     On the fifth box of decorations, your foot slips. You gasp in shock, your stomach flipping as you fall backward- a split second of absolute terror as you fall. You’re terrified that you’re gonna die, and that Jean will never forgive you and you’d never get to throw that stupid party you were doing all this work for in the first place. 

    The air is knocked from your lungs from something that felt much more like a catch than it did the floor. You don't know what’s going on for a moment, eyes shut tight as the shock begins to wear off and you realize that you’re fine… Wait. Hold on. Someone had definitely caught you, and unless Jean had snuck in…

    To be honest, whatever you were expecting when you opened your eyes was very, very much wrong. Your heart is beating a million times a minute, a chill running through you when you finally register who is above you. Or what, rather. The first thing you see are his eyes. Yellow from pupil to scelera, almost glowing in the low light of the billiards room. He’s more fuzz than skin, blue in color, with devilishly sharp canine teeth he reveals with a sheepish smile.

    “Hallo?”

    He flinches when you shriek, doing his best not to drop you as you squirm out of his arms. Your knees give out the moment your feet hit the floor, and you scramble back, grabbing the first box you can and throwing anything you can find at him. 

    “Sorry- Sorry! I had not mean to scare you!” He holds his arms up to block each decoration you throw at him. A few plastic spiders, a zip lock of polyester faux webbing, and a little floral crow or two. You can hardly even think at the moment.

    “Stop! Please stop! I didn't want to let you fall!” He flinches at each item although none of them are very heavy. You’re running out of things to throw, stalling for a moment as you debate lunging for one of the other boxes.

    “WHAT ARE YOU?!” You shriek again.  He opens his mouth to speak as he takes a step back, and you flinch as you see something move in the corner of your eye- a tail. A spaded fucking demon tail. You had to be losing it. Having hallucinations or a nightmare or something- but as it turns out, you are definitely a fight-over-freeze kind of person, and your body kicks in before your brain has caught up. The box of bones was next to go. A hand, and then two small rib cages and a slightly heavy bundle of newspaper fly through the air.

     “Careful!” He flat-out ignores the other items, going wide-eyed at the ball of newspaper and lunging to catch it in time. He takes an audible sigh of relief when he does, and says something that makes you pause from pelting him with any more Halloween shit.

    “You’re certainly Maude’s kin, but I doubt she’d appreciate you throwing her breakables.” He halfheartedly jokes, an awkward smile on his face. You’re mid-throw with another bone, hand frozen in the air with a range of emotions going on in your head.

    “Excuse me?” You ask, possibly a little overdramatic at the moment. He goes to move, probably to set the wad of newspaper down, but you raise your hand again as if to throw, making a face at him that’s a little more goofy than it was intimidating. He hands the newspaper off to his tail, raising his hands to show that he means no harm.

    “Maude? The woman who lived here before?”

    “Yeah, I got that part!” You cry out, hands shaking a bit from adrenaline. “How do you know my Aunt Maude? And what are you!? Why are you here!?” The rapid-fire questions seem to interrupt him every time he opens his mouth, but he doesn’t seem to lose his patience with you. He very calmly places the wad of newspaper on top of a box that happens to be near, and you eye him suspiciously as he does. He sits down next to it, the tip of his tail swaying just slightly.

    “Maybe we should take a step back, Ja? I can explain everything, I promise.” He says, patting the space next to him. “Herkommen. It might be better to sit for this.” His smile is polite, and if this situation were any different, you might find his kind demeanor charming. But the situation isn’t different. He was a stranger in your house. A blue, possible-demon stranger, with a tail and what you think looks like small, pointed horns sticking out from the thick curls that cover his hairline. You eye him suspiciously, halfway wondering if this was a trick of sorts. He’s looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to sit. Eventually, you do, but not next to him, definitely not. You sit down right where you are, hesitant and fidgety as he begins to speak.

    Of course, it would be your Aunt to summon a demon to aid her with her ridiculous (lovely) house in her failing health, instead of hiring a fucking nurse, or an assistant, or just selling the damn thing. Of course, it would be your Aunt to leave you the house with said demon in it, and not tell you. OF COURSE, It would be your aunt to tell him to take it slow while introducing himself so he wouldn't freak you out, and OF-FREAKING-COURSE, it would be you who almost killed yourself on accident and completely derail that plan. Jesus, what was worse? The fact that your aunt was apparently an actual witch who summoned demons in her elderly years, or that she didn’t explain any of this to you before leaving you the house. You didn't know how to unpack all of this, hell, you weren’t even done unpacking all of your things. 

    Well, It’s not like you could (or would) kick him out really, but in the coming weeks, you notice that Kurt is really more of a butler than a roommate.

    He’s been cleaning even before you knew he existed, but now that the grand reveal was over, you see him around the house much more often. He helps you with groceries, cooks for you when you’re exhausted, he takes the trash out sometimes too, when the sun goes down. He doesn’t go outside in the front yard very much to avoid being seen, but every once in a while, he’ll take a walk with you in the backyard. You were hesitant of him for a good bit, but you’d be a liar if you said he didn’t have a way of worming his way into your good graces. He’s… sweet. And easy to get along with. He effortlessly fits into your life, and you find yourself excited to see him when you wake up every day. You get along so well that it makes you wonder if your aunt had known that you would when she summoned him, or… you know what, probably not. 

    You learn more about him as the weeks go by. His past, his hopes for the future. You learn that his father is a demon lord of some sort, and his mothers are a bit more complicated. All three are dangerous, and all three are trying to find him. 

    “Is that why you took the pact with my Aunt?” You ask, late one night. Both of you have drinks in hand, leaning back on a pile of pillows and cushions you found in the tower room. It’s comfortable, if a bit warm. The two of you are a little flushed, words surprisingly clear as you speak. Despite being a demon, you find that Kurt is a bit of a lightweight. An accident on your part, having poured the drinks a little stronger thinking that he had a bit more tolerance. 

    “Mostly.” Kurt hums. He’s fully leaning against you, head resting snugly against your own with his tail curled around your abdomen. His horns are resting against your temple in a rather uncomfortable manner, but you don’t mention it. He takes another drink.

    “I don’t know how she knew. Or if she knew, really. Magic is specific to each demon, like a fingerprint of sorts, just a bit easier to track. When a demon makes a pact, their magic is filtered through the pact-bearer- which creates a different kind of magic. I needed a place to hide, she was offering me a home. It was easy.” His words slur a little where his accent tends to come out a bit stronger.

    “Was that all she offered you? A place to stay?”

    “That and…” He trails off for a quick moment, clearing his throat to change the subject. “Well, anyway. I was desperate, and she seemed kind, so I agreed.” You nod as you think it over yourself. You can’t tell if he’s just drunk or it's a sensitive subject, but he can’t just have accepted the many tasks of cleaning and caring for an old woman for something less in return. Was it that easy for demons to make pacts like that? Surely, she wouldn’t have offered him her soul or anything.

    You open your mouth to ask him more questions, but when a light snore reaches your ears, you know he’s fallen asleep. You can't help but smile, a warmth in your chest that you don’t really think is from the alcohol.

    A few days later, it’s Saturday, October 31st. After some long weekends and late nights, you finally have the whole house decorated, inside and out! You were so beyond excited. The whole place looked like it had come straight out of a Halloween catalog! You were so proud of how amazing it looked, but you could never have taken all the credit. Kurt was a big help, both with the placement and creativity of the many decorations. Everything that had to be put outside had to be done so at night so that Kurt wouldn’t be seen, and sure, sometimes you would wake up and see a few things were crooked, but at least it was fun! You’ve never felt so invigorated and filled with Halloween spirit, especially now, a few hours before the party. You’re shaking some full-sized candy bars into a big-ass plastic cauldron, and Kurt walks in with his arms full of Party favors for tonight.

    “You know, I’m not sure you could give away all of these if you tried!” Kurt laughs, setting them all down on the coffee table in the sitting room. It's a bunch of plastic spider rings, vampire teeth, squishy skeletons, slap bracelets, and more. All sorted into their own neat ziplock bags. The apartment complex you used to live at never really got any trick-or-treaters, so you had a lot of leftover goodies you were happy to finally use. You let out an excited giggle, taking one of the bags and emptying it into the cauldron. 

    “You’ll be surprised! With the neighborhood that’s just around the corner, I know for a fact that we’ll have plenty of kids come by!” You almost sing. Kurt smiles at you, taking a bag of his own to empty. 

    “Don’t get your hopes up, Schatz. It’s an old building, and rather scary from afar. Maude never really had a lot of visitors on Halloween.” You pout at his words, before tilting your head like you’re considering them as you continue to fill the cauldron. 

    “True, but Aunt Maude never tried posting on neighborhood Facebook groups and hyping up PTA moms before. Besides, the house is scary, but that's what the lights are for!” Kurt shakes his head, laughing as you voice the thought. You mayyy have gone overboard this year. A few extra strands of lights, blow-ups, and animatronics never hurt anybody, right? I mean, with most of your expenses taken care of due to the paid-off mansion you live in, you were able to spend a little bit more of your personal spending money on Halloween. Your new home was a whole-ass Halloween attraction, and a good bit of the neighborhood thought so too! After posting online, you were pleasantly surprised with the positive feedback from the surrounding neighborhoods, and had even personally met a few kind neighbors since!

    Kurt however, couldn’t risk being seen, and had to hide every time. Most people would freak out, just like you did, and the attention isn’t really a good thing for him. The thought sends you on the same spiral that you had been on for the past week, and the smile slowly slips off your face as Kurt takes the pot from you and begins to mix the goodies all together.

    “...You’re sure you don’t want to come tonight?” You ask, vulnerability shining through your voice. Kurt looks up from the task, brow furrowed. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then looks back down again.

    “I don’t want to scare anyone.” He says softly, making your frown deepen.

    “You won’t! I promise you won’t. None of my friends scare easily- and besides! It’s Halloween. Everyone will just think you’re in a costume!” You try to make the last bit of the plea happy and convincing, but it doesn’t seem to work very well. Kurt doesn’t look at you until he’s done with the pot, placing it back on the coffee table. When he does, his smile doesn’t seem to reach his eyes,

    “I’ll be fine, Schatz. I promise. It will be easier for me to just hide. I can easily enjoy the party from a distance.” The words aren’t very convincing, but before you can say anything else, the doorbell rings. Kurt dusts himself off as he stands, tail swaying as he pulls you to your feet. 

    “Looks like your guests are early. Make sure to have fun tonight, Ja? I’ll see you later.” Kurt squeezes your hands, and you try not to look too disappointed. After all, it was his decision, and you don’t want him to feel forced to show himself when so much could go wrong. You give him a moment to head back upstairs, disappearing like he used to do back in the beginning. You can’t help but sigh a little, but there’s a hesitant knock on the door instead of the doorbell this time, and you know you can’t just stand here and ignore it.

    You don’t really know who is going to be on the other side of the door, with it being mid-afternoon and still a hot minute before the party actually starts, but the bloody, red-haired Carrie on the other side of the door brightens your spirits the moment you see her.

    “Jean!” You cheer, rushing to give her a hug that she warmly returns.

    “Happy Halloween!” Jean says before pulling away. “I hope you don’t mind, I thought I’d come by a little early to help you set up.” 

    “Are you kidding? I have a whole ass kitchen of food I still need to plate.” You step aside to let Jean in as she laughs. You were originally to do most of the prep with Kurt, and although Jean is technically interrupting, you try not to let it get you down. This is the first time you’ve seen her in a long while, and you were already rather lucky that Halloween was falling on a Saturday this year- most of your friends/guests all working at the prep school nearby. 

    “Am I the first one here?” Jean asks as you lead her to the kitchen, and you hum in response.

    “Yup, It’s been just me all day.” You’ve never been the best liar, but you think you’re a little convincing at least. 

    “Funny, I could have sworn I heard a man’s voice when I rang the doorbell.” Jean’s smug tone almost makes you stop in place. If you were even a little convinced that some of this house was soundproof, those hopes were dashed instantly. You smile nervously, trying to play it off as you pass the sitting room, the TV giving you an idea.

    “Whaaaattt? No. I mean- I’ve had the TV in the sitting room running all day, so maybe that’s what you heard.” You say, trying to wave her off. Unfortunately, Jean had the ungodly ability to pick up your anxiety like a goddamn bloodhound.

    “Really? There’s not some mystery boyfriend you’re not telling me about?” Jean teases. You get stiff and quiet immediately, biting your lip as you reach the kitchen. She takes the silence as an affirmative answer, and she’s not exactly far off. Jean cocks an eyebrow at your nervous stance, chuckling at the sweat that practically beads at your brow. You try to hide the flush of your cheeks by busying yourself with setting out different snack foods to organize and avoiding her eyes, but it doesn’t work. 

    “Oh come on, I’m not blind. You’re over there blushing like a student. Who’s the lucky guy?” Jean asks, helping you with the task. You begin to open a back of chips, looking away from Jean’s knowing gaze.

    “I- We’re- We’re not really a thing. He’s just a friend.” You say, heart thundering in your chest as you pray Kurt isn’t lurking nearby. You’re struggling with the bag still, and Jean holds her hands out as an offer. You hand it to her without a second thought, and she opens the bag easily.

    “And is this friend coming to the party tonight?” She asks. You stall for a moment. All you can hear are the soft clinks of the chips hitting the inside of one of the bowls you had set out. You’re not quite sure what to say to that, or even if you had anything to say. Your hesitance makes her frown, looking up at you cautiously. When she puts the bag back down, she reaches out to take your hand. 

    “Well, if he does stop by, I’ll be glad to meet him.” Her tone is reassuring, and you muster a small smile for her. Tonight was supposed to be fun, so you’d do your best to enjoy it.

    The night goes by busier than you ever would have expected. Everyone comes dressed to the absolute nines in their costumes, and although a few were lacking in imagination in your opinion- Logan specifically- everyone looked amazing. You quickly realize that It’s harder to be a good hostess in this big ass house than you would think. Between the food, trying to catch up with friends, and the doorbell constantly ringing with practically a line down your driveway of more trick-or-treaters than you’ve ever seen, you were constantly busy. Lucky for you, you had good people around you. Logan and Scott thankfully took over cooking hamburgers and hotdogs- and Jean promised to keep them from butting heads. Ororo and Xavier happily volunteered to hand out the candy when you couldn’t, and you had Jubilee to count on when it came to the music. The house was busy, people were smiling, and overall, everything was going really well. 

    The only downside was that you hadn’t seen Kurt since Jean arrived. Sure, it was busy, but every time you managed to pry yourself away from the crowd and look for him in his usual hidey-spots, you never found him. He’s good at being sneaky, I mean he has to be, right? Being blue and all, but his consistent absence makes you a little nervous. He’s probably just being extra cautious, and you can’t blame him for that.

    After a few drinks have been had, spirits are high, and some different party games you had planned were finished, it was time to vote for best costume. Almost everyone had gone outside, enjoying the yard and the house in all its festive glory, but you stayed inside to count the votes. Kitty and Illiyana had volunteered to help you, and it takes a surprising amount of time to count the various strips of colored construction paper. In the end, it seems like it was really more of a “most ridiculous” costume contest instead. Jubilee, dressed as the one in only Kool-aide-man in the biggest plastic fishbowl you’d ever seen, won best costume by a single point, with Kevin’s fantastic costume of Professor Xavier himself a single point behind. You try your best not to laugh, knowing that they are not going to be too happy about that. You had bought a light up-sash and a plastic crown for the winner, stopping to grab them before stepping outside to try and find the teen. 

    Somehow, you can’t find her. I mean, You think it would be easy to find a huge red bowl with a face on it, but she’s not outside at all. When you ask Hank, he says he’s pretty sure she went back inside, so inside you go. You’re starting to get a little anxious at this point, not finding her on the first, or second floor. The third floor is completely dark, aside from the colorful light coming from the windows. You call out her name with no response, and then thinking that Kurt may have seen her, you call out his name next. Nothing. He’s never done that before. Sure, there was a lot going on, but normally he’d at least try to answer you. You creep from door to door upstairs, without any luck, when a muffled sound from the tower room falls on your ears. It makes you pause for a moment. It might be nothing, but you remember telling Jubilee about the room earlier, so you figure it wouldn’t hurt to check.

    You’re hesitant, but then there's another muffled cry, and this time, you know it’s him. You slowly creep up over to the door, and then up the stairs to the room. Minutes feel like hours, and when you finally get there, you find Kurt, on his knees and doubled over in pain with his hands pressed to his chest.

    “Oh my god, Kurt!” You cry out, running over to him. His face is scrunched up in a wince, his eyes shooting open when you try to help him sit up. 

     “No, no- You can't be here- You need to go,” Kurt’s voice comes out between heaving breaths. Your hands are shaking, panicked as you spot the blood seeping through his shirt. He hisses in pain when you touch the spot, as if he’s been burned, and when his hands quickly tug your wrist away- his neckline shifts. There’s a brand over his heart. Etched into him as if it were carved with a scalpel.

    “What happened? What's happening?” The words come out faster than your brain can catch up. His nails are elongated, razor-sharp points almost digging into the skin of your wrist as hold hold shifts. The brand glows as another wave of pain washes over him. Those small points that normally hide in his curly hair have grown, too. His horns sweep over his head, prominent and black at the very tips. He cries out, slumping forward onto your shoulder as the pain passes.

    “You need to go. Bitte- I need you to leave.” Kurt almost whimpers, practically limp against you as he tries to catch his breath. “It’s Azazel, my Vater. He’s found me. He’s using the brand to track me down. It’s too dangerous for you to be here.” He stiffens as another wave of pain hits him, and you do your best to keep upright. There’s so much running through your head, concern, confusion. You don't know how to help him besides holding up up and it's killing you to see him like this.

    “I don’t understand- I thought he couldn’t find you unless you used magic?” Kurt looks ashamed when you ask the question, tucking his head further into your shoulder. It's only then that you actually take a look at the room around you. There's an open book on the ground, runes and lettering you don't understand scatter the pages, along with a diagram of a devil that seemingly shifts into something more human and back at every shift of your eye. When you see the worn cover, you recognize it as the book beneath the floorboards- and you finally understand that it's a spellbook.

    “I… I wanted to join you.” Kurt whispers, unable to look you in the eye. “My Mutter was skilled in transmutation so I…” He trails off, shaking his head and wincing when another sharp pain shoots through him.

    “It was stupid. I’m sorry. I should never have touched it without a pact.”

    “If you make one now, will the brand disappear?” 

    Kurt visibly pauses. Sitting up as best he can to get a look at your face. You're still panicking, but overall you feel mortified. Ashamed. Did you do this? Were you so instant that he came tonight that he would risk everything just to do so? What was wrong with you- and why on God's green earth would he actually try to go through with it? You're beginning to tear up, swallowing down your thoughts as you offer the only thing you can think of. Kurt doesn't answer you at first, his yellow eyes wide with shock as he stares at you. 

    “If you make a new pact, will you be able to dispel the tracker?” You repeat, trying so hard to seem confident and self-assured through your shaky voice. Kurt’s face shifts into something you can't quite place, and he shakes his head.

    “I can’t ask that of you-”

    “Kurt, just answer me!” You’re too stubborn to let it go. A trait that you and Maude often shared. Kurt takes your hands into his own, squeezing them, and shakes his head. He's insistent in his own right, conveying his worry and fears- not for his own future, but yours.

    “This isn’t the way you want to gain a pact! Maude had made preparations. She had charms and protections and rules in place! There’s no time for us to do the same. If you make a pact with me now with nothing? It would bind your soul to mine for eternity. You would have no rest, no peace- no Heaven. I won’t-”

    “I love you!” Kurt sucks in a sharp breath at your exclamation. Tears have started to roll down your face no matter how hard you were trying to blink them away. 

    “I don’t care about eternity, or rest- or any of that. I love you. Fuck- I know I haven’t even known you three months- I just…” You trail off, looking away from him in embarrassment that all of this had to come out in such bullshit circumstances.

    “Please just make the pact.”

    Kurt’s eyes soften, almost scanning your own as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re telling the truth. He uses the back of his hand to wipe the tears from your face, careful of his claws, and then suddenly, he kisses you. It’s easy for you to melt into his desperate kiss, a hand coming up to cup his face as he pulls you closer with his tail. The strong limb pulls you into a straddle across his lap as he takes your free hand in his own. When he breaks the kiss, he does so with a mumbled apology as he takes your free hand. You feel a sudden stinging pain as a careful claw slices across your palm, and he apologizes again as he presses it over his heart, directly against the bleeding brand. Both of you hiss at the sudden, blinding pain as his hand continues to press your palm tightly to the wound.

    There’s an energy that begins to fill your body, like an electric current that links the two of you together. Your skin is buzzing, your head spinning as you fall against his shoulder in a mirror of his own position earlier. Kurt’s new claws dig into his own skin, and he grits his teeth as the pain from the brand grows more and more- before everything stops.

    You wish you could say there was some spark, or spoken words, or something, but it all ends almost anti-climatically. Everything stops. Everything is quiet- almost too quiet. Whatever vertigo you are feeling begins to wear off, and when you feel like you can finally lift your head, you look at Kurt.

    He’s smiling at you, horns reduced, fingernails shortened, with your hand still pressed over his heart- the brand gone and the skin healed on both of you

    “Is it over?”

    “It’s over.” He confirms, and you sigh in relief, pressing your forehead against his own. Kurt doesn't take long before he’s pressing kisses all over your face, holding you still as you giggle and squirm. You know there’s more to be said between you, but it’s been one hell of a night, and right now you’re enjoying the comfortable silence between Kurt’s fluttering kisses- until someone calls your name from the tower stairs.

    “Hey, You in there?” Jean’s voice echoes through the space, and you sit straight up, heart given a jumpstart as Jean comes into view- you don’t have time to move before she gets there.

    “You’ll never guess where we found Jube….” She trails off when she sees you and Kurt. “Oh?” Your face is as red as it can get, panic shooting through you at the realization that she’s seen the actual demon living in your home. All he does though is smile and wave, although a bit nervously. Jean raises an eyebrow, beginning to smile just as you realize the position the two of you are in.

    “Nice costume,” Jean says, and after a moment of confusion, you realize she’s talking to Kurt. Kurt looks relieved, shoulders relaxing underneath you, and you clear your throat.

    “Jean, this is Kurt.” 

Yet, there's never the consideration of how much dignity the consequences of your own actions would cost. Whether or not you've changed, whether you haven't, doesn't matter.

"Uncuff her," the bald man before the armored van's doors commands.

The soldiers hop down off the back, their arms interlocked with yours, wrists bound in the handcuffs they'd subdued you with upon capture. Your Converse catch on the lip of the truck causing you to trip, only held up by their strong arms, their hands still wielding the guns they'd originally intimidated you with. The gravel beneath your feet only further causes you to stumble in search of a grasp on anything for balance.

"I'm afraid we can't do that, Sir." One of the soldiers--Williams was scrawled across his chest--states in response. Classic cop move, what else would anyone expect? While the man might not be a regular cop, you'd seen enough to know they're all the same when it comes down to it.

"It wasn't a request," the bald man retaliates. While your eyes had been on the sandy gravel beneath your feet, hair hanging in your face and obstructing your view, you finally raise your head to meet the man's face. It looks familiar somehow; eyebrows furrowing, you try to place where you'd seen him before. Yet, that's not what truly catches your attention. Behind him stands the boy you'd spotted during the trial a few days ago, his appearance far too peculiar to forget.

The court room was almost completely empty save strictly for the necessary people involved in your case. That is, it was, right up until just before your sentencing. You'd heard the creaky door let in a breath of fresh breeze from the hallway faintly in the back of your mind, yet you couldn't bother to care when the fate of the rest of your life lie in the hands of the jury and this judge. The school district's defense attorney was brutal, while the one you'd been assigned was surprisingly progressive and kind. He was unlike anything you'd expected. A gift from God? Or a trap disguised by the Devil?

As you braced for the inevitable punishment you deserved, you couldn't help but feel eyes on the side of your head. With a quick glance to your right you'd spotted a group of witnesses simply watching the case unfold. Your life, really, if anyone bothered to think about what this was all really about. And while your heart was stuck in your throat, body practically paralyzed with fear as time seemed to slow to an impossibly agonizing pace, you couldn't help but stop and stare at the boy for a moment, if only just this moment. Everyone seemed to be busy watching the case, except one: him.

Sure, maybe it was the odd hair color, or the way his reflective silver jacket matched his hair, but it didn't really matter. The curious and sympathetic look in his eyes gave you pause. Out of the dozens of people in the courtroom, no one had looked at you that way. His penetrating stare alike his hair in that reflective quality; forcing you to confront yourself for all you are. All you'd done. Gaze refocusing on the old and slightly splintered wooden table in front of you, hair obscuring your face from him, you're too ashamed to truly be seen. While you await the people's decision, await the consequence you rightfully knew you deserved after that day. The one you're tired of hearing about.

"Are you threatening us, Xavier?" The other solider on your left speaks up, the rustling of the strap on his rifle is a sinister reminder that you're trapped. Easily at one's disposal if they care to do so. An undignified transfer from one group of men to another. Rendering you down to nothing but a dangerous possession. It was obvious the fear the men held for you just based off the disgusted looks and lack of eye contact they'd made with you on the ride over.

"That depends on how you look at it," the bald man answers, an unwavering confidence imbued in his demeanor. There's a fire in his eyes that you wish you could place, but you're completely lost in all the heightened emotions and despairing thoughts that sweep up your mind in their monsoon.

'Do Not Be Afraid'

The words ring out as if someone had spoken, but no one seems to react, and no one's mouth had moved. A quiet gasp leaves your lips and you attempt to whip your head around to spot if someone had gotten behind you, the movement jostling you within the soldiers' grasp. Confusion is surely written all over your face as everyone's attention shifts on you. "Nevertheless, the restraints are not helping anything. If she's to be in my custody, you'll have to remove them sooner or later," the man they'd called Xavier posits.

It wasn't that you hadn't heard him, but the back and forth between the men doesn't exactly register in your mind as your eyes flit around your surroundings trying to spot a way out. With all the events in the past four months, you'd learned one of the most important lessons: You're on your own. No one is coming to rescue you. You have to look out for yourself, because if you don't... who will?

Their voices feel like you're hearing them from underwater as you look past the boy with silver hair and spot many faces in the windows of the mansion. Everyone's watching you, everyone's seeing this, everyone knows. And there's nothing you hate more than being a spectacle. It's then that you feel the locks on the handcuffs pop open as the guards are reaching into their pockets for the keys, begrudgingly complying. The piece of metal falls toward the Earth, but you don't waste a second. This is your chance! This is your out.

Before you can think of your next move, you're already committed to the first idea that pops into your mind. Your elbows swing backward with all your strength as you jab both guards in the stomach. While they're doubling over, you run for it. "Peter go!" Grunts of pain and anger ensue, followed by the rustling of fabric and the metallic clicking of rounds being slid into their chambers.

"NO!" You hear the same someone yell as the sound of gunfire follows. Your heart pounds tremendously fast within your chest as your feet carry you further through the grass toward the wall of trees bleeding into a forest from what you can see. The encroaching sound of bullets whizzing by and pitting into the soil by your feet has you jumping in your skin as you momentarily cower and curl in on yourself before the instinct to take off only amplifies tenfold. To stop now would undoubtedly be a death sentence.

You're already three-fourths of the way to the tree line when you feel the Earth skating by much faster than you know you can run. Eyes widening, you look down only to spot that you've unintentionally aided your effort by subconsciously creating tracks of ice beneath your feet. The realization sends you stumbling, feet slipping atop the ice until muscle memory kicks in. You'd done a brief stint of ice skating when you were younger. Able to balance yourself, you continue onward, praying you can create enough distance between where you were and wherever you're going. Anywhere safe, ideally.

Wind races across your face as you soar past the terrain far faster than your feet could naturally take you. If ever there was a time or reason to be glad for your powers, it was now! Weight forward on your thighs and knees, you propel yourself in ways you'd only seen on television during the Winter Olympics. Just as you hear the gunfire stop and think you're finally far enough way to stop, you're met with a silver blur and a figure directly in front of your path. Swerving into a Hockey Stop, your body is launched up into the air, spiraling and spinning with the momentum you'd gained.

There's a series of 'oof's that tumble past multiple lips before you're able to open your eyes and take in your surroundings properly. Suddenly you're in someone's arms, eyes wide as you don't know how or when you'd even gotten there. He doesn't look surprised, yet he also doesn't look comfortable either.

"Ah!" The scream automatically rips itself from your throat as you scramble to your feet and out of his hold. The only thought you have is to get him away from you; going for a shove to his chest, your eyes widen as it feels like time suddenly slows down as you watch your hands change color before your very eyes. Hands hitting his chest with a thud, there's a crisp tink to it as your hands go white and ice spreads across his chest just where you'd touched him. That's all you see in the split second it'd taken before he's being launched backward into the air several feet away, ultimately falling into the shrubbery.

The shrill shriek that leaves the boy's body isn't anything you can bother to laugh at in the moment, your lips parted as shock completely covers your face. Stuck in the same position you'd been in, you can't fathom how or what you just did to him! Is he...? He can't be! Absolutely not! He can't be... can he? You definitely didn't just...

"Ughh..." the groan comes from the indented shrubs and while you can't see him from where you're standing, a relieved sigh escapes your body, every part of you sagging with the tension dissipating.

"Oh, thank God!" You praise the universe this time. With a moment to catch your breath, your attention falls back to your hands. They're skin color now. Did you only imagine it? It felt so real, though? So how did...?

It's then that the crunching branches and rising appearance of the boy elicits your attention. He doesn't look pleased... like, at all. With a drop of his neck from side to side in an attempt to crack it, he follows suit by crunching one fist's knuckles before the other. Stepping over the shrubs he'd been blasted into, he storms right your way. "Oh, I don't think so, Sweet Cheeks," he taunts.

Within a blink you're being set down on crunchy gravel, yet dizziness and nausea cause you to stumble. Somewhere in the back of your mind you register the hand around your shoulder, but can't question it at the moment. All you see before you is the van you'd been contained in, the guards at the ready with their guns pointed at you before you feel like you're falling, your world going black.

You wake with a start, body surging forward to sit up. "Ow!" You go from gasping for breath to groaning in pain in mere seconds as your eyes snap open in search of what you'd hit.

"Really?!" Someone yells before moaning. Pain emanates from your forehead, and a look to your right shows you the other person is also clutching theirs.

"Told you not to stand that close," a man with glasses teases from across the room behind an ornate writing desk.

"I know, Hank! I just didn't think she'd-" the boy complains, rubbing at his forehead. It's obvious you'd bumped heads, yet your mind is still spinning with questions. Where are you? How long had you been out?! Who are all these people? "You've gotta heck of a lot of fire there, babe. Or should I say-"

"Peter," You hear another voice say in a warning tone. Eyes flitting to the direction it'd come from, you can't help the way your face drops as you gawk at the person.

"Holy shit," you curse under your breath, the whole room going quiet.

"What?" The boy asks, looking at you with confusion until you guess it clicks for him as his eyes fall down over himself.

"Y-you're blue?" The words leave your lips before you can stop them, and while you can't look away, the others in the room apparently take the moment to redirect things.

The call of your name garners your attention. "Do you know who I am?" As your eyes slowly peel over the three people standing by the ornate wooden desk, you find that the blonde woman looks eerily familiar to you. Wasn't she at the trial too? All the events of today make you feel like your mind is turning to Jello.

"Should I?" Attention ultimately falling back onto the bald man addressing you, you're unsure how to approach this situation. Manners might already be thrown out the window with the way you can't really bother to care anymore. Everything that's happened the past four months has taken more of a toll on you than you'd realize.

"I would assume not, no," he responds, an indifferent look on his face. "My name is Charles Xavier, I'm the Headmaster of this school," he explains.

"You've never heard of the X-Men?" The silver-haired boy sat on the coffee table before you finally stops rubbing his forehead as he turns to you, a questioning and judgmental look on his face.

It feels like a lightbulb goes off in your brain as a look of bewilderment crosses your expression. "Oh, fuck!" Without thinking you hop up onto the couch you'd been lying on, pointing to the blue boy you'd questioned earlier. "That's why I know you! You're one of them, right?" An excited grin overtakes your features before you turn to the adults at the desk expectantly, as if for confirmation.

"Yeah," the silver-haired boy lets out a puff of air. "Cause he's the only X-Men here," he says sarcastically.

"If you'd refrain from standing on the furniture-" Charles Xavier begins.

"Oh! Sorry," you apologize, quickly hopping off onto the floor before the couch. "You're the guy who... what? Leads the X-Men? I saw something on TV-"

"Actually, that'd be me," the silver-haired boy says, to which everyone gives a disapproving look.

"You could say that, I suppose," Charles replies without a thought, ignoring the boy's response. "Peter, if you're going to be a problem, you'll have to go." By the silver-haired boy's frown, you can tell he's Peter. With that, Xavier's attention shifts back to you. "As you're probably aware, I testified on your behalf during the trial. Hence, your sentencing lessened and your arrival here."

"I'm not... this isn't..." you shake your head as you try to gather your thoughts into the question you're actually trying to ask. "That's not a part of it, right? I don't have to be an X-Men?"

"You don't want to?" The man standing to the right of the blonde woman asks, you finally take in the way he looks like a scientist with his white lab coat, glasses, and clipboard.

"Why would I? Glory? Fighting on behalf of the government and giving up my life for what, exactly?" You question.

"To save people's lives," the blonde woman responds, her figure shifting and changing into something... someone... blue. You recognize her. She's... Mystique, right? One of the most recognizable X-Men, the one a lot of people supposedly look up to in their community.

"Woah," you whisper under your breath.

"It's not an easy decision, I wouldn't expect just anyone to do it." While her response comes off passive-aggressive, you can't deny that saving people is probably one of the best things Mutants could do with their powers.

"Raven's right, however it is not a stipulation of your rehabilitation," Charles explains, "You are here in the hopes that you can learn to control your powers and show the government you are not all that they've been claiming you to be."

This gives you pause. You know what they've surely been saying about you while you'd been on the run. Though, while you haven't directly seen much of the news, you can only imagine the worst. Even during the trial they'd made it a point to call you a 'terrorist', 'monster', and a whole lot of other awful names. Yet, as someone who's never been considered a freak, you do not want to admit it, nor own up to it.

"What you did out there was remarkable," Charles compliments, "I do believe we would not have been able to save you if it weren't for someone with Peter's expertise," the man smiles at the boy. "Did you mean to do what you did out there? Quite a smart attempt to remove yourself from the situation."

It's then that you decide you hate this Peter guy. He's the reason you're here, why you're trapped right now, and have to endure whatever dull stipulations they'd dolled onto your sentence.

"This is a whole lot better than prison," Raven, or as you'd known her, Mystique, taunts. "I'd be thanking Charles right about now if I were you." Hand lightly drug along the man's shoulders in passing as she rounds the desk and heads toward the door, you can't help but feel embarrassed. Do they all know what you'd done? Why you're here? Shame and guilt begin to gnaw at your stomach again.

"This is a second chance for you," Charles repeats your name again, his tone encouraging and softer this time. "It's not a punishment to be here, I assure you. If anything, I hope it will help you grow to your fullest potential. Now, if you boys wouldn't help her with a tour, we've arranged a room for her up with the girls," he waves toward the door and it opens. "The boys will help acquaint you with the premise, and once you're done I'm sure Hank will be ready to meet you downstairs for preliminary testing."

While you sit on the couch unmoving your heart beating in your chest feels all too slow for the way fear takes hold of you. Paranoia, hatred, anger, resentment, grief, and guilt all dig their claws into you and you're left weighed down with no words. Nodding is the only thing you can do. There's no way out of this one. They'd just get this Peter kid to bring you back again.

Sullen, you slowly rise from the brown olefin couch and walk toward the doorway. You're unsure whether it was more ominous in the office, or if the utter silence within the empty foyer is more daunting. "It is not usually this empty," the blue boy speaks.

"Everyone's in class," Peter adds on, holding the door open for you kindly, even if he's frowning as you pass.

"Welcome to the X-Manor," blue boy announces with a smile you can only interpret as genuine.

~~~~~~~~

You plopped yourself down on the couch, letting out a big sigh. You had just finished deep cleaning your apartment. As you wiped the sweat from your brow, you caught a whiff of yourself, you definitely needed a shower before Piotr came over for the first time tonight. You hadn’t been dating the metal man long, so you still wanted to make a good impression.

You propped your feet up on the coffee table, the sun from the window reflecting off the metal in your prosthetics. You stared at them, wondering what Piotr would think when you showed him tonight.

Would he treat you different? Would he be disappointed you haven’t told him sooner? Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone buzzing.

A text from Piotr.

Need me to bring anything tonight? No, just your handsome self, you replied.

Piotr only replied with blushing, smiling emojis. He’s such a dork and you really liked that about him.

‘Right. A shower’ you reminded yourself.

You wandered to the bathroom, admiring how clean your apartment was. 

You sat down in your shower chair and released the prosthetics from your legs. ahhh sweet relief. It was like taking off your bra after a long day, but better.

You lathered to your soap and began to wash, you felt the end of the amputation spot. You remembered the incident like it was yesterday. Memories of your time on Xavier’s team flooded your mind. Being a X-man was physically, emotionally, and mentally difficult. The mission when you lost your legs has left you with a particularly sour memory.

But there was no time for sour memories now. … You smoothed out your floor length dress and did some final touch ups before Piotr arrived. You had lit candles, bought wine, and even cooked a fancy meal for you and Piotr to share tonight. However, the one thing you hadn’t done was tell Piotr about your prosthetic legs, but that would change tonight...Hopefully 

Ding dong!  The doorbell sang out.

You opened the door to see a very well dressed Colossus holding a bouquet of flowers. Your heart flutters at the gesture.

you greet him with a hug and a kiss and he gladly returns your affections. “Please, come in.” You said, swinging the door open wide.

“Wow y/n, you’ve outdone yourself.” Piotr complimented. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of dinner. “This smells amazing!”

“We’ll then let’s eat some!” You replied, all the anxiety leaving your body with Piotr’s presence ..

The two of you had moved the couch after dinner to watch the show you’d been wanting to start together.

your focus was anywhere but the TV. You had put off telling Piotr long enough. Best to rip the Band-Aid off right?

“Piotr? Can we talk?” You questioned, your heart racing and your palms growing sweaty; nervous how he would react.

“Da. Of course.” He replied, pausing the show.

You fiddled with your dress, looking anywhere but Piotr.

After a painfully long moment, he took your hands in his, focusing your attention on only him.

“Piotr, I really like you. And I want to be with you, in an official capacity.”

“Oh y/n I-”

“Wait.” You interrupted. “Before you respond I need to show you something.”

He paused, eager to hear what you had to say.

“Remember how I told you I was on Xavier’s team back in the day?”

He nodded.

“Well, being on the team took a lot more from me than just my sanity.” You explained.

Slowly you reached for your dress, pulling it up to your thighs so Piotr could see.

Piotr’s eyes grew wide with surprise.

After a moment he spoke.

“о Господи, (my god) I am so sorry such things happened to you, y/n.”

Piotr leaned forward and pulled you into a hug. “Thank you for telling me.”

You let out a sigh of relief and wrapped your arms around Piotr, returning his hug.

It felt good to be liked for who you were, all of you.

A few short moments passed with no sight of him, before his voice suddenly came from behind you. “You’re right.”

Spinning around, you were suddenly surprised as he smashed a fistful of snow onto the top of your head. Letting out an amused and surprised gasp, you quickly jumped forward, latching onto him so that he could not disappear without at least taking you with him. He let out an amused chuckle, before you smashed your own snowball against his head.

“Hey!” He called out as you began to laugh.

Grabbing you, he knocked you down to the ground with laughter before he started shoving armfuls of snow on top on you, as though he was attempting to bury you.

Laughing, you turned to crawl away, while forming a snowball. Turning around, you threw it, hitting him in the stomach. Picking up another snowball himself, he pelted you with it as you held up your arms in defense.

Suddenly, a snowball, coming from nearby hit Peter smack in the face, making you yelp in surprise and amazement, and Peter to look around stunned. Turning, you see Ororo nearby, Jean next to her suppressing a laugh. “What the hell Storm!?” Peter yelled, though not actually angry.

She lifted her arms up with a grin, “What? I was simply defending my friend.” She said while motioning towards you.

You and Peter locked eyes as you grinned at him, amused at the turn of events. “So not fair.” He said with a frown as you giggled.

Upon seeing Ororo beginning to pick up more snow, you, Jean and Peter prepared yourselves as well. Scrambling to your feet, you ran to a nearby tree and hid behind it. And seeing both Scott and Hank walking towards you all, you threw your snowball at them, in an attempt to surprise them. Hitting Hank in the shoulder, you succeeded in surprising the both of them.

They looked around in surprise, as Jean, who saw your attack, also threw a snowball, nearly hitting Scott. Scott immediately understood what was happening, and with a smile, began to form his own snowball, while Hank stared at all of you, unsure of whether he should participate. But as another snowball, thrown by Peter hit him square in the chest, he decided he had no choice but to retaliate.

Within the next few minutes, you all began to pelt snowballs at one another. Laughter and screams echoed around the school grounds. Nearby, some younger students watched in amusement, as Charles, from his office window watched with joy.

After hitting both Ororo and Scott, they began to retaliate in kind, and Hank, seeing you as an open target, began to throw snowballs at you too, Jean soon followed. “Hey!” You yelled with a laugh as you began to dodge the sudden onslaught “That’s not fair!”

Peter, having been gathering an armful of snowballs, turned at the sound of your voice, seeing that you were being ganged up on, decided to do something about it.

As you spun around, to see if your attackers were still targeting you, you saw, in a matter of seconds, all four of them being pelted with numerous snowballs at the same time, catching them off guard. At the moment you realized only Peter could have done that, you were suddenly whooshed away, and with a dizzy shake of your head, found yourself in Peter’s arms, behind a nearby tree.

Looking up at him, he smiled at you in amusement as you both heard the others complain with a cacophony of comments.

“Peter!”

”No powers!”

”Not cool dude!”

You let out a giggle as Peter peaked out behind the tree and called out, “It’s no less fair than all of your ganging up on one person!”

The others shared a brief look and seemed to agree that he had a point, before all of them began to scoop up snow again, once again attacking one another.

You and Peter grinned at each other, locking eyes for a moment before he smiled and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Your nose is frozen.” He commented and you giggled.

“Of course it is, my whole body is.” You said.

Wrapping his arms around you, he rubbed his hand up and down in an attempt to warm you. You smiled at his cuteness before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Come on!” You suddenly exclaimed before pulling away and gathering snow.

Peter watched you for a moment with an adoring smile before he began to gather snow as well. After you both had an ample pile of snowballs, you began to throw them at the others, continuing the snowball fight with glee.

The cold, wet snow soaking your clothes did not bother you, the numbness in your toes, ears and nose did not deter you. Your joy at engaging in childish fun with your friends, outweighed the freezing cold.

Though there was a thought at the back of your mind that was sure you would be in bed with a cold the next day, you did not care now. Because no matter how you felt tomorrow, right now, you would relish in your happiness and fun.

xx End xx

Hope you liked it!

You realise that you’d let your eyes rest on him too long, as he turned around at the feeling of being watched to see your eyes on him. The longing of your stare was obviously lost on him as his smile remained and he lifted his hand in a cheery wave. Your cheeks instantly flush as you extend a much smaller wave than his own before putting your attention back down to your inventory logs where it should have been all along. Best not to dream about things you can’t have.

You loved your wee office. It was situated directly behind your counter by the front door, which meant with its window, it allowed you to simultaneously work and keep an eye on your shop, Cito Books, all at once. The room had a door, but you opted to never shut it, instead a wedge kept it permanently open to allow you to hear customers calling out to you. Today was no exception.

“Y/N!” The younger of the twos voice rang out from the back corner clear as day. You promptly leave your chair and make the short journey to where all three patrons now sat on the matt in the children’s nook.

“Yes Lorna?” You ask, your eyes occasionally flicking towards the silver haired man who had an easy smile resting on his lips. You can’t help but let your eyes briefly look at his hand splayed out on the rug. No wedding ring still.

“Do you have the next Rainbow Magic book?”

“Well what one are you up to?”

“Izzy the Indigo Fairy!” She exclaims excitedly, her sister still intently staring at the shelves in search of the book her sister so desperately wanted.

“I think we just got it in actually, give me one second,” you say, even though you know full well it had come in with your most recent stock. You fetch it from one of several boxes in your office before nonchalantly presenting it to the ecstatic girl.

“Wait, I thought you didn’t have this one last week?” The still seated man asks with a quirked eyebrow.

“Well Mr- ” You go to answer him before you are interrupted as he stands and speaks.

“How many times do I gotta tell you? It’s Peter.” The smile he gives you as he absent-mindedly swipes his hands on his jeans makes your cheeks flush again. You hated that you loved the impact he had on you. You wordlessly asked Lorna with a gesture if you could take the book back. She passes it to you and you lead the three to the counter to process the purchase, replying as you do.

“Well Peter we actually just happened to get it in so…” You let your feeble reply fade off as you ring up the book and place it into one of your paper bags, refusing to meet the eyes you knew were on you.

“If I didn’t know any better Y/N I’d say that you got it in especially for us.” Just as you suspected, when you dared to briefly meet his gaze he had a cheeky smirk on his lips and mischief in his eyes. You involuntarily gulp before passing the book to eager outstretched hands.

“That’ll be $14.99.” You fail to find anything to say that would dispel his absolutely correct assumption. He shakes his head slightly at his verbal victory before pulling out his wallet and handing you a twenty dollar note, telling you to keep the change. You immediately protest this, as he supports your little store plenty without needing to not take his change but he was having none of it, firmly placing his wallet back in his pocket where his hand remained. You give him what was supposed to be a disapproving look as you put the money into the till with a ‘thank you’, him merely giving a jovial shrug of the shoulders in return.

“Isn’t that the last one in the series?” The other little girl, Wanda, finally pipes up. You reply with a smile.

“It is actually, but don’t worry there’s a whole other series that comes right after.”

“Do you have it?” Lorna asks, quick as a snap.

“No not just at the moment.” You reply with a slight frown. Peter places a hand on both the girls’ shoulders, gently starting to lead them out the door.

“Don’t worry though, if we’re really lucky it might just be here next week,” he says with that signature cheeky smirk and a wink. Even though he had assumed correctly, you weren’t about to admit he’d been right. “We’ll see you next week Y/N,” he yells over his shoulder, turning his head once they are out of the shop to wave at you through the window as they leave your sight down the street.

“See you next week,” you say with a smile to an empty shop. You rest your head on your hands as you stare at the space that they once occupied. The family had probably only been coming in for a month, yet you could confidently say they were your favourite customers. There’s just something about him that never failed to put a smile on your face, even from the first moment you saw him.

You shrug yourself out of your thoughts, settling on sorting your new stock. Even if he wasn’t married, which he still could be for all you knew, he had two kids. There was more than likely someone in the picture, so you needed to rid your thoughts of the cheeky silver haired man. Even if you didn’t want to.

*

Over the next few months you saw Peter more often alone than with the girls. He had taken to coming in sometimes as often as twice a week, just browsing rack after rack that hadn’t changed since the last time he was in. Some days you’d engage in idle conversation, some days you were too busy with customers to chat with him, but that would not deter him in visiting. You thought occasionally that he was looking your way, yet every time you turned to face him his eyes were firmly on the shelves. Just wishful thinking you supposed.

You had felt a lot of strange gusts of wind in the shop recently, and you had no idea where they were coming from. Sometimes pages in books would rustle when nothing had happened, and gusts of air had taken to flying past your face, catching loose strands of hair in its motion. You had investigated your store thoroughly and came up flat, no holes or crevices that so much draft could be coming through. The events puzzled you when it happened, but for the most part you left it be. If only you knew the source.

You see, Peter was taken with you. From the first moment he had stepped foot in your store and was greeted by your smiling mouth that bid him welcome he’d been under your spell. He usually took the girls to a different book store but as soon as he had found out you owned the quaint bookshop, he had yet to take his business anywhere else.

He wanted to see more of you, he couldn’t help himself. He found himself through that front door more often than he’d like to admit. He’d walked the shelves so many times that you’d probably never have to do another stock take again, he could just recite your inventory to you.

He couldn’t help but watch you. How you gleamed when recommending books to customers. How you chirped up when your doorbell chimed. How you tidied your shelves and store daily, making sure your shop was always pristine. The pride you took in your work was evident, and Peter loved your passion, sometimes whizzing by in super speed just to see the glint in your eyes for a fraction longer. He was lost in thought when a voice rang out.

“Something I can help with?” He jolted slightly, dropping a book out of his hands in shock. Somehow he had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t even noticed you approaching, and didn’t manage to catch the book before it hit the ground.

“I’m so sorry,” you say with a joking lilt to your voice as you retrieve the fallen book and place it back on the shelf, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He lets out a breathy laugh, scratching the back of his neck out of embarrassment.  

“You must be too quick for me.” You laugh at his joke, despite not knowing it was much more for himself than for you.

“So, anything in particular you were looking at Mr- ,” the quirk in his eyebrow stops your sentence dead in its tracks, “Peter.” A smile springs to his lips at his name leaving your lips.

“No you’re okay,” his eyes involuntarily flick between your rose tinted lips and your eyes before looking back at the shelf, the motion making a shiver dance down your spine, “I was just browsing.” You nod at him, not wanting to call out the fact that he’s browsed everything there is to be browsed, because frankly you didn’t mind his constant company.

“Well, I’ll be just over in the kids’ corner,” you motion to the brightly coloured area, “let me know if there’s any other books your daughters might want.” You smile at him intending to make your way there but the puzzled look on his face stops you in your tracks, your expression mirroring his. “Did I say something?” You question quietly.

“Daughters?” He says incredulously, you simply nod your head. “Y/N, Lorna and Wanda are my half-sisters, I just look after them when I can.” Your eyebrows furrow before they raise in surprise.

“Oh!” You exclaim, nodding your head at the new revelation and what that might mean. “Well, that’s great!” Shaking your head you go to the kids’ corner to sit on the matt and tidy the shelf, cheeks flushed with your last statement.

“Yea it’s pretty great,” Peter says following you, sitting in the much too small pink chair directly behind you, “they’re great girls.” You hum in acknowledgement, smiling over your shoulder to show your agreeance. You were dying to ask him if he was single but didn’t know how to approach the topic.

“So you’ve got no kids of your own then?” You ask instead, trying to make yourself seem busy enough to offset how much you wanted to know his answer.

“No.” He replies simply, making you think he was not going to divulge any more. “No partner to have kids with either, so none for a while.” You can’t help the giddy sensation that fills your chest. He was single. You felt like you had to act upon this new found information but once again the silvery man had you at a loss.

“So you’re single?” You pluck up the courage to ask, standing from your spot and walking to your counter, avoiding eye contact as you do so. Peter follows and leans on the opposite side of the counter to you, keeping his eyes on your face.

“Free as a bird.” You grin at him, finally having the courage to meet his expectant gaze. Something in them said that you weren’t alone in your feelings, that maybe you made him feel the same as he did you. You can do this. Just ask him.

“How free are you at 5:30 tonight?” Your sentence that you hoped would come out smooth and collected came out rushed and jumbled, making him let a soft breath out.

“Free enough that I could get dinner. If I had someone to go with.”

“I could do dinner.” You can feel the giddiness radiating on your face leaching into your voice, completely nullifying the indefinite you spoke in.

“Alright, 5:30 then. It’s a date.” With that, he reaches over and gives your nearest hand a gentle squeeze before parting with a wink and the dinging of the bell.

You let out a contented sigh, finally allowing yourself to not feel guilty about your pining, knowing clearly he was feeling the same. No more staring and imagining, you had a date with him. Tonight.

“Jesus.” Moira gasped.

“What could it be?” you questioned. You sent your mind out through the waters to find the source of the mysterious force pulling the anchor around. It wasn’t very hard. The seething anger could’ve been seen from a mile away.

The agent who took you, Charles, and Raven took a gentle hold on your shoulder. “Get inside.” The agent from earlier told you.

“Stop, stop, stop, stop.” Charles demanded and you shoved the agent off of you.

“Charles?” Moira questioned through pants, “are you okay?”

“There’s someone else out there.” Charles explained as his eyes combed the murky dark waters in search for a person, you quickly followed suit. “There.” Charles pointed at a person in the water.

You watched as the submarine pulled away in the water as a person tried in vain to hold onto the submarine through what you assumed was a mutation. There was nothing visible connecting the person with the submarine.

“Let go! You have to let it go!” Charles shouted over the railing in a vain attempt to communicate with the angry person in the water. “You got to help him.” Charles looked at the sailors manning the ship, “you got to put someone in the water to help him!”

“Charles, his anger.” You touched Charles’ elbow, “it’s going to consume him. He can’t let go because of his anger!” you hurriedly explained.

“Let it go!” Charles shouted once again into the water, “you have to let it go!”

“He can’t hear you!” you shouted, “his mind is clouded from fury!”

Charles jumped into the water after the man in the water.

“For crying out loud!” you shouted in anger, “at this rate, you’ll drown too!” you shouted after Charles, who had already broken through the water. “Where’s the life buoy?” you demanded as you looked around you for the red and white ring. In the back of your mind, you kept your emotional connection with Charles that allowed you to keep tabs on where he was, as well as his emotional state. Obviously. “Where the heck is that life buoy!” you shouted, “we need that to get people out of the water! You’re the coast guard!” you took deep breaths to regain the oxygen you lost from screaming so loud. Someone appeared with the ring and you snatched it out of their grasp. You ran back to the rail and focused your attention on Charles, his mild panic was replaced with relief and you saw him and another man break the water.

You threw down the ring down to them which they gratefully grabbed and you, along with multiple sailors managed to haul the two of them back onto the ship.

“You idiot!” you shouted to Charles before he even got a towel to dry himself off, “you could’ve drowned!”

“He was about to drown, I couldn’t just let him.” Charles explained as he pointed to said person.

You turned to look at the man who Charles risked his life to save, “(y/n).” You introduced yourself as you held a hand out for him to shake.

“Erik.” He replied and the two of you shook hands. You made eye contact and immediately created the emotional connection which made it so that you could keep tabs on him, even without eye contact, you wouldn’t even have to be in the same room. “Are you, like him?” Erik asked as he motioned to Charles.

“In a way.” You shrugged.

‘He’s a mutant too,’ Charles’ voice chimed in you head.

‘I know that dimwit.’ You snapped back, ‘and get out of my head.’

‘He thought he was alone.’ Charles elaborated.

“You’re not alone.” You stated aloud to Erik. You felt even more relief wash into Erik.

“I thought I was the only one.” He murmured.

“Don’t worry,” you gave a small, somewhat forced smile, “you aren’t.” You turned to glare at Charles, “stop being a self-sacrificing dimwit!” you shouted and Charles almost seemed to shrink under your short stature. “I don’t think I could live without you around.” You whispered as you gave him a tight hug.

“I don’t plan on disappearing anytime soon.” Charles let out a soft laugh.

“You’re words seem to contradict what you just did.” You mumbled into his wet shirt.

Charles let out an awkward laugh, “uh, yeah. Guess there’s that.”