Life’s been strange lately—no, not strange, surreal, it feels like the universe hit shuffle and landed on the most unexpected track, just a week ago, you were cornered, helpless, a target in a world you didn’t even fully understand, villains had their claws in everything, and you were just another casualty waiting to happen

And then she arrived

A silver flash, a slash through space itself, that was the first time you saw her—Illyana Rasputina aka Magik, a mutant with a soul forged in hell and a heart that still dares to hope

She saved you

You thought that would be it—hero saves civilian, rides off through her portal, gone in a flicker of light, but life—again—had other plans

Now? Now she’s curled up in your lap like a cat who’s decided you’re home, her golden-blonde hair spills over your thighs as her fingers idly trace the seam of your jeans, her sword is tossed carelessly beside the couch, glowing faintly with Limbo’s fire, and that faint swish-swish sound? That’s her tail, yeah, she has one sometimes, it swings lazily, happily, like she’s exactly where she wants to be

“Don’t move” she murmurs, her voice low and demanding, yet so soft it makes your chest ache, “don’t you dare move”

You don’t

Instead, your hand finds its way into her hair, ruffling it gently, she hums tails continue to swing around happily—almost purrs—and nuzzles closer into your warmth, for someone who’s seen the worst corners of existence, she clings to this moment like it’s the first good thing she’s ever had

“I never thought I’d like this so much”, she whispers as snuggling into you, so quiet it almost disappears into the quiet

And you? You never thought you’d be here either, getting a girlfriend wasn’t on your radar, getting Magik—the ruler of Limbo, the girl with eyes like ancient storms and scars like galaxies?—that definitely wasn’t in the cards

But here she is

A paradox curled into you: half-goddess, half-lost girl, she could command demons with a wave of her sword—but right now, she just wants you not to move

Maybe it’s fate, maybe it’s magic, or maybe—just maybe—it’s love, forged in fire and sharpened like a soul-steel blade

Either way, you’re not going anywhere

Not that you can anyway