X-Men Preferences and Imagines

How you met

Logan Howlett:
Meeting Logan was anything but smooth. You were a nurse working in a small clinic just outside of Westchester when he came in, bloody and battered, after yet another skirmish. At first, he grunted a thank you as you stitched him up, his stoic demeanor making conversation difficult. But you noticed the way his eyes softened when you asked, "You do this often?" He smirked, his gruff voice a low rumble. "More than I'd like." From that moment, Logan seemed to make it a habit of stopping by—sometimes with injuries, other times just for your company. One night, he stayed after hours, sitting quietly as you closed up. "You're different," he finally muttered. "You don't flinch when you see the claws, the mess." You shrugged, locking the door behind you. "Guess I've seen worse." He chuckled, standing up, his tall, muscular frame towering over you. "Think you could handle worse than me?" His tone was teasing, but there was something vulnerable beneath it. You smiled, leaning in just slightly. "Maybe I can handle you just fine, Logan." His intense gaze held yours for a long moment before he leaned down and kissed you, his touch surprisingly gentle, the tough exterior hiding a softer side you'd soon come to love.

Scott Summers:
Your first encounter with Scott was during one of the X-Men's training sessions, and it was anything but romantic. You were one of the newer recruits, and Scott, ever the leader, was hard on everyone—especially you. "Focus! Your head's not in the game," he barked, pushing you to your limits. You glared at him, frustration bubbling up. "Maybe if you didn't blind half the team, I could focus better!" you snapped back. The others gasped, but Scott's lips twitched into the faintest of smirks. Later, he approached you, out of uniform and with a soft expression behind his ruby-quartz glasses. "You're not afraid of standing up for yourself," he said, almost sounding impressed. You crossed your arms. "Should I be?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "No. I like that about you." From then on, the tension between you softened, and you began to notice the quieter side of Scott—the man who stayed up late strategizing to keep his team safe, the one who would smile when he thought no one was looking. One night, after a particularly tough mission, you found yourself alone with him in the mansion's common room. "You did good today," he said, his voice gentle, different from his usual commanding tone. You looked at him, surprised by the compliment. "Thanks, Scott." He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against yours. "You know, I'm not as tough as I seem." You smiled, closing the distance. "I know." And with that, Scott leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

Young Charles Xavier:
Meeting Charles was like stepping into a whirlwind of charm and intellect. You were a guest lecturer at Oxford, speaking on the psychological effects of trauma, and Charles was in the audience. After the lecture, he approached you, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Your insights on the mind are fascinating," he said, his British accent smooth and inviting. "Perhaps we could discuss them over dinner?" His confidence was disarming, and despite your initial hesitation, you agreed. That night, over wine and conversation that flowed effortlessly, you found yourself drawn to him. Charles had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room, his attention unwavering. "There's so much more to the mind than we understand," he mused, his fingers brushing against yours as he spoke. You felt a spark, something deeper than simple attraction. "Are you always this intense on first dates?" you teased, trying to break the tension that had built between you. Charles laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Only when I'm truly intrigued." As the night wore on, you realized just how deep his intrigue went—not only into your mind but your heart. And when he finally kissed you outside your door, his touch was as gentle as his words, promising more than just an intellectual connection.

Young Erik Lehnsherr:
You met Erik in the most unlikely of places—a small bar on the outskirts of Berlin, where you were working as a translator for an international conference. Erik was brooding in the corner, his sharp gaze scanning the room as if he were always calculating something. You didn't notice him until he approached you, his presence magnetic—literally and figuratively. "You seem out of place here," he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. "And you don't?" you replied, raising an eyebrow. He smirked, his lips curling in a way that made your heart skip. "Perhaps we're both out of place." The conversation was electric from the start, Erik's intensity matching your own wit and curiosity. He spoke of change, of a better world, and there was a passion in his words that drew you in. "You believe in something bigger than yourself," you said, meeting his gaze. He nodded, but there was a sadness in his eyes. "I've seen too much not to." That vulnerability broke through the hardened exterior, and before you knew it, you were sharing more than just philosophies. Later, as you walked down the darkened street, Erik took your hand. "You're not afraid of me?" he asked quietly, almost as if testing you. You squeezed his hand, looking up at him. "I don't think I could be if I tried." And with that, he kissed you, fierce and unyielding, like the force of nature he was.

Young Hank McCoy:
Meeting Hank was like finding a kindred spirit in the most unexpected of ways. You were a fellow scientist, hired to work alongside him at the X-Mansion, and from the moment you shook hands, you felt an instant connection. "Your work on genetic mutations is impressive," Hank said, pushing up his glasses with a shy smile. "I've read all your papers." You blushed, not used to such genuine admiration. "I could say the same about you." Over time, working late nights in the lab turned into quiet moments of shared discovery, and you began to see the man behind the genius—the one who was kind, awkward, and so much more than the blue-furred mutation he would later become. One night, while you were reviewing data together, Hank looked at you with uncertainty in his eyes. "There's something I've been meaning to ask," he said, nervously shifting in his chair. You tilted your head, waiting for him to continue. "Would you—" he cleared his throat, fumbling with his words, "maybe like to go out for dinner sometime?" You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. "I thought you'd never ask." His relieved grin was all the answer you needed, and that dinner turned into many more. Soon enough, Hank's soft, thoughtful kisses became as much a part of your life as the science you both loved.

Peter Maximoff:
Your first encounter with Peter was a blur—literally. You were at a coffee shop when your drink suddenly vanished, replaced by an empty cup. "Sorry, couldn't resist," a voice said, and you turned to see a silver-haired guy grinning mischievously, your coffee in his hand. "Peter," he introduced himself before you could even get a word in. "I'm fast, and I like coffee." You laughed, more out of confusion than amusement, but Peter's energy was contagious. He ended up sitting with you, talking a mile a minute about everything from music to movies to mutants, barely giving you a chance to respond. But somehow, it was endearing, and before you knew it, you were intrigued. "Do you always steal people's coffee when you're flirting with them?" you teased, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Only when they're cute." His cocky grin should've annoyed you, but instead, it made you smile. As the days went on, Peter kept popping up in your life—one second, he'd be nowhere to be found, and the next, he'd be by your side with a witty comment or a stolen snack. One evening, after he whisked you away to a midnight concert in another state, he looked at you seriously for once. "I know I joke around a lot, but... I really like you." You smirked, leaning in close. "I know." And with that, he kissed you, his speed making the world around you blur as the moment stretched into forever.