The rain came down in sheets, rattling against the wide bay windows of Xavier’s mansion. Thunder grumbled in the distance, and the smell of wet earth seeped in even through the stone walls. The place was unusually cozy today: the main lounge was crowded with mutants sprawled across couches and beanbags, hot mugs of cocoa steaming on the table.

Logan had commandeered the recliner, boots up, cigar smoldering, looking like he was one thunderclap away from a nap. Scott sat rigidly at the other end, arms crossed, the glow of his visor reflecting in the glass as Jean casually flipped through a book at his side. Storm leaned near the fireplace, serene but regal, the faint shimmer of electricity in her hair betraying her connection to the storm outside.

Jubilee was bouncing on the couch, firing off tiny pops of sparkles like it was New Year’s Eve. Hank, of course, had settled cross-legged on the rug with a massive volume of Shakespeare, occasionally humming to himself while turning a page with a clawed hand. And Remy? Remy was lounging, chair tipped dangerously back, shuffling a deck of cards like he had nothing but time to kill.

Everything was warm, loud, and safe—until—

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

The whole room stilled.

Jean’s head snapped up. Storm arched an eyebrow. Logan growled low in his throat. “Kid, it’s pourin’ out there,” he muttered, dragging himself up. “Who the hell—”

The door creaked open before he even reached it.

Standing in the doorway was a girl—probably fifteen, maybe sixteen. Sopping wet, hair plastered to her face, eyeliner running in streaks. But despite the weather, she struck a pose, hip cocked, chin tilted like she was ready for a photoshoot.

“Hi,” she drawled, voice dripping with fake innocence. “I’m… Nyx. And I’m a mutant. You’re welcome.”

Before Logan could respond, she blinked—literally vanishing from the doorframe and reappearing right in the middle of the lounge. A puff of ozone and displaced air made Jubilee yelp and spill cocoa on the rug.

“Ta-da,” Nyx said, fluttering her eyelashes. “Teleportation. Not a big deal.”

Jubilee glared, dabbing her jeans. “Girl, you could’ve just walked in like a normal person.”

Remy smirked, shuffling his cards. “Can’t say she don’ know how to make an entrance, chére.”

Scott adjusted his visor, already looking tense. “Teleportation is dangerous without control. You could’ve materialized inside a wall.”

Nyx rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t teleport too. “Uh, duh? I’ve been doing this since I was twelve. I don’t need a lecture, Cyclops.” She flicked her gaze to you, narrowing her eyes like she’d already marked you as competition. “Besides… I heard you’re supposed to be the mansion’s new prodigy. Guess we’ll see about that.”

Jean closed her book with a snap, voice cool but sharp. “That’s not how this works, sweetheart.”

Storm’s tone was calm thunder. “Mutants come here to learn, not compete for the spotlight.”

Nyx didn’t even blink. She bamfed again, appearing right beside Logan’s chair, leaning on it like she owned the place. “I mean, sure, but some of us are just naturally more gifted.”

Logan growled again, cigar glowing as he clenched his teeth. “Kid, if you don’t back up outta my personal space—”

“Relax, grandpa,” Nyx said sweetly, teleporting to the back of the couch where Jubilee sat, practically draping herself upside down like a cat. “I’m just making friends.”

“Pfft,” Jubilee muttered. “More like making enemies.”

Hank cleared his throat, trying to keep the peace. “Perhaps we should first dry her off before we—”

BAMF! Nyx appeared by you, arm slinging around your shoulders like you were besties. She smiled, but her eyes were sharp. “So… this is the one I’ve heard about. Xavier’s favorite little project. Cute.”

The whole room tensed. Even Logan stopped mid-growl to look at you, waiting to see how you’d respond.