[Completed]
In the shadow of the Cold War, tensions between global superpowers mirror a growing divide between humans and the emerging mutant population. Y/N Maximoff, a powerful mutant with abilities rooted in chaos magic and energy manipulation...
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The air around your home felt heavy, the kind of thick stillness that comes before a storm. The kids had just left for the day after their lesson, their laughter still echoing in your mind as you made your way into the house, feeling the comforting weight of home. But that peace shattered when you saw her.
There, at the edge of your property, was Jean, the last person you ever thought would show up at your doorstep again. The sight of her sent a strange ripple through your gut. You hadn't seen Jean in what felt like an eternity. Last time you heard, she was struggling with the chaos within herself. And now she was here, with blood on her shirt.
You knew something had gone horribly wrong.
Erik's gaze was already shifting as he stepped forward. "Leave her." His voice was cold, commanding, like the power he held within himself. His words didn't fall on deaf ears; the men that stood in front of Jean stepped back.
You were already walking toward her, heart pounding, trying to keep the calm exterior while your mind was running wild. "Why are you here, hon?" you asked softly, trying not to sound too accusatory.
Jean's face was strained, her eyes darting around, nervous and unsettled. She took a shaky breath before she answered. "I didn't know where else to go." Her words felt heavier than they should have.
You led her inside, sensing that Erik was more than ready to press for answers, his protective nature flaring up as he had his own questions. You didn't blame him, not after everything they had been through. You watched as Jean sat down on the couch, her shoulders tense, her eyes cast downward.
You took the initiative to pour her a cup of tea, hoping that it might calm her down. "Are you hurt?" you asked gently as you handed her the cup, your voice filled with concern.
She shook her head, but you couldn't help but notice the way her hands trembled as she took the cup from you.
Erik wasn't as gentle. "They're not accustomed to uninvited guests," he muttered, his eyes narrowed as he sat across from her.
The three of you sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the unspoken words hanging in the air. Erik broke the silence, leaning forward. "Why don't you start from the beginning?" he asked, his voice steady but sharp. It wasn't just curiosity in his voice; it was a demand for truth.
Jean's breath caught in her throat as she tried to compose herself. But she couldn't hide the nervousness in her eyes. Erik picked up on it immediately. "Whose blood is that?" he asked, pointing to the stain on her shirt.
Jean flinched. The second she saw Erik's piercing gaze, her heartbeat quickened, the fear and confusion growing visible on her face.
"What?" she asked, trying to brush it off, but the nervous energy radiated off her like an electric current.
"You've got blood on you," Erik pressed, his voice low, insistent. "Whose is it?"
"Look, we're not Charles," you said, trying to cut the tension before it escalated. "I'm not going to read your mind, Jean. We want you to tell us what happened, so we can help you."
