X-Men One-Shots and Preferences

Last Chance- Raven Darkholme

This is partially inspired from the first season of the show Pose.

The reader is a drug dealer who sells Kick (anyone not familiar with Kick it's a drug in the Marvel comics that is targeted to mutants who get high on this stuff; it makes em powerful for a brief moment in time, but it also ends up destroying the X gene as the addiction progresses). Raven, who's started her own team, made it clear she wouldn't put up with that stuff but the reader doesn't listen.

Mentions of drug dealing and sex work (not sure if that in itself requires a warning) in this one along with some language. Enjoy.

It was late in the evening when you got back to the apartment you and your new family lived in. You had a meet up and drop off some place in the city, and you didn't want anyone else on this team to know about it, especially this team's leader.

You snuck through the front door and gently close it so no one would hear you come in. The lights were off. As you walk into the main area of the apartment, looking for something you needed, the lights turn on. You turn around, expecting someone to get the jump on you. You let your guard down when you see it was Raven sitting on the couch.
"You're late," she tells you, "Where did you go to at this hour?"

"I was hanging out with the boys," you simply answer. "What, Quicksilver and Pyro?" she asks. "No, my boys," you shrug, as you try to dig around the furniture in search of something. "Is this what you're looking for?" Raven asks, as she pulls up the pager you lost earlier today, "Was this for your boys?"

You just stand there, saying nothing, knowing you needed to pick your words carefully if you wanted to keep Raven from digging too far into your work. "The moment I brought you onto this team, into this family, I told you what my rules were," Raven lectures, "I told you I wouldn't put up with anyone selling drugs in my home."
"I'm not," you get defensive, "and why are you picking on me, I don't see you getting on Stacy's back when she's working the pole just for some petty cash." 

"You don't get to judge how Stacy uses her body," Raven scolds to which you scoff. "No, I mean it," Raven continues, "When you're a mutant living on the margins, when you're unable to pass in a society that fears and despises you, you take work where you can just to survive. At least Stacy is making an honest dollar dancing at the Platinum club and not out on the streets selling poison to our kind. Okay? That shit is ruining our community, that so-called Kick is killing our people, and I won't tolerate anyone who willfully sells it no matter how much profit is in it."

"As I said before, I'm not selling Kick, I got out of that business," you say with a firm tone. The look on Raven's face said she didn't believe you and she warns you in a low tone, "You get into any trouble out there for something illegal, do not make me your one phone call."

------time skip--------------

You were out on the streets in the middle of the night, waiting for the next exchange to take place.
You carried a bag filled with Kick and was definitely expecting one or two persons to meet you in about less then five minutes with a large bag of money in hand in exchange for the Kick.

This was your life before Raven found you and brought you along to join her little team of mutants, tasked with helping other mutants out there that were helpless to help themselves against a society that hated them. Before that though, you were living on the streets, kicked out of your home since the day your own mutations manifested. Having also dropped out of school with an education no higher than 8th grade, you didn't have much to go on in terms of career prospects save for minimum wages jobs such as waitress or busboy.

Stripping for money like or walking the streets at night to service pervy old men with a fetish for mutants, like Stacy does, didn't appeal to you, so you felt your only other option was to sell drugs to make ends meet.
This particular drug, Kick, was popular in the mutant community. Mutants addicted to this stuff would scrounge up what they could, even selling limbs (that is if they could regrow said limbs) to buy even a 1 or 2 grams worth of Kick if only it would make them temporarily powerful.
It didn't really make any difference to you what would happen to them later; all you could think about was your own survival.