You will never go to the mission with Deadpool again. Never. It is too dangerous for the brain.

Heart races as you steal glances at Colossus, who stands across the room, his powerful form silhouetted against the backdrop of the training equipment.

Mercenary's words echo in your mind, a mix of humor and irreverence that still makes you smile. “Colossus? Oh, he’s a big, shiny slab of Russian steel! You know, the kind you’d want to cuddle with during a thunderstorm… or more. If you’re into that sort of thing!” The memory of his playful banter brings a warmth to your cheeks.

You watch as Colossus effortlessly lifts a heavy barbell, his muscles flexing beneath the surface of his metallic skin, gleaming like polished silver. There’s a grace to his strength, a quiet power that captivates you. Each time he transforms, it’s as if he sheds the weight of the world, becoming a protector in a way that feels both noble and intimidating.

Your thoughts drift, imagining what it would be like to be close to him. Maybe too close. The idea of resting your head against his shoulder, feeling the coolness of his metallic form sends a shiver down your spine. You wonder if he knows how he affects you, how every glance from those deep, soulful eyes makes your heart flutter.

As he sets the barbell down, you catch his gaze, and for a moment, time seems to freeze. His expression is warm and inviting, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips. You feel a rush of emotions—nervousness, excitement, hope.

The training room fades into the background as you step closer, the sounds of the mansion dimming to a soft murmur. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, a stark contrast to the cool metal of his skin. It’s as if he embodies the strength of a thousand heroes. He turns to you, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and kindness.

“Good morning, tovarishch,” he replies, his voice deep and soothing, like the rumble of distant thunder. “Are you ready for training?"