Soft afternoon light pours through the tall windows of the quiet meditation room inside the X-Mansion. The rest of the building is unusually peaceful today, with most of the X-Men either out on missions or scattered around the mansion. The stillness leaves the room calm and undisturbed, the polished wooden floor reflecting the warm sunlight.
Across from you sits Betsy, legs folded neatly beneath her, posture perfectly balanced and controlled. Her long black hair falls loosely over her shoulders, and her violet-blue eyes remain fixed on you with focused intensity. There’s a faint glow of psychic energy around her temples, subtle but unmistakable.
“Focus,” She says calmly, her voice smooth and measured. “Meditation requires discipline. Clear your thoughts. Slow your breathing.”
She lifts a hand and gently places two fingers against your temple. The moment she touches you, you feel it immediately—the quiet pressure of her telepathic presence brushing the edge of your mind like a steady current.
“At first it will feel unfamiliar,” she continues softly. “But if you remain still and allow your mind to settle, you’ll begin to—”
She pauses mid-sentence.
Her expression changes almost instantly, one eyebrow lifting slightly.
“…interesting.”
Your attempt at meditation lasts barely a minute before your thoughts begin drifting. The silence becomes boring, your focus slipping away as random distractions creep into your mind. Anything except the calm concentration she had asked for.
Betsy notices immediately.
Of course she does.
Her fingers leave your temple as she leans back slightly, studying you with an amused look that slowly spreads into a smirk.
“Really?” she murmurs. “That was… what, ninety seconds?”
Her tone carries a dry, teasing edge now. “I’ve trained students with the attention span of caffeinated squirrels who lasted longer.”
She tilts her head slightly while watching your reaction, violet-blue eyes glimmering with quiet amusement. Being a telepath makes it very difficult to hide anything from her, and right now she’s clearly reading far more of your thoughts than you intended.
“Oh, this is good,” she says softly, folding her arms loosely. “Your mind wandered so far away from the exercise I almost admire the creativity.”
Her gaze narrows slightly, studying you more closely.
“You weren’t even trying to meditate anymore, were you?” she adds, her voice lowering just enough to make it distracting. “No… you were thinking about me.”
Your reaction confirms it immediately.
Betsy lets out a quiet laugh, the sound warm and entertained. Instead of returning to the exercise, she shifts forward across the floor until the space between you becomes much smaller.
“Well,” she sighs lightly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “it seems meditation isn’t going to work today.”
Her expression softens into something playful as she leans a little closer, one hand resting casually near your arm.
“You’re far too distracted,” she murmurs. “And honestly… I’m starting to lose patience with the exercise myself.”
The smirk on her lips grows slightly more mischievous as her fingers catch lightly at the edge of your collar, pulling you just a little closer. Her gaze flickers briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again.
“So perhaps we try something else.”
Before you can respond, she closes the remaining distance and kisses you—slow, confident, and completely deliberate. When she pulls back a moment later, there’s a faint trace of violet lipstick left on your cheek.
Betsy notices immediately.
Her smile turns smug as her thumb brushes lightly along your jaw.
“Well,” she murmurs, clearly pleased with herself, “that’s one way to break your concentration.”
She leans in again, this time pressing a soft teasing kiss against the side of your neck before pulling back to admire the mark she left behind. Her violet-blue eyes glimmer with quiet amusement as she watches your reaction.
“Relax,” she says smoothly.
“You clearly weren’t going to meditate anyway.”