Kara sighed in satisfaction as she reclined on the couch, stretching lazily as tiny sparks of electricity danced across her skin. Storm stood over her, arms crossed, lips curled in a knowing smirk. "Told you. Nothing beats a good lightning massage."
Kara hummed in agreement, rolling her shoulders as the residual tingles from the controlled electrical pulses settled deep in her muscles. "Gotta admit, it's pretty nice."
Jean, sitting on the armrest of the couch, chuckled as she idly twirled a strand of her red hair. "Nice, huh? Maybe. But nothing relaxes the mind like a proper psychic massage."
Storm arched an eyebrow. "You wanna test that theory?"
Jean smirked. "Why not?"
Storm's eyes gleamed, a challenge forming instantly. "Alright. Let's see who can get Kara to relax the most."
Kara opened one eye, amused. "Wait. You two are seriously turning this into a competition?"
Jean placed a gentle hand on Kara's shoulder, sending a slow wave of psychic warmth through her nervous system. "You're the judge, after all."
Storm cracked her knuckles, electricity crackling between her fingertips. "Yeah. Let's see which one you like better, sunshine."
Kara grinned, shaking her head. "This is ridiculous."
Neither of them disagreed.
Storm started first, rolling her shoulders before sending carefully controlled jolts of electricity through Kara's back, sending soothing pulses deep into her muscles. Kara melted into the couch, a deep sigh escaping her lips.
Jean, not to be outdone, simultaneously slipped into Kara's mind, weaving a delicate touch through her subconscious, replacing any residual tension with warm, floating comfort.
Kara's entire body slackened. "Oh, wow."
Storm smirked. "Yeah, you're gonna pick me. I can feel it."
Jean simply chuckled, her voice honey-smooth. "Don't be so sure. Kara, you feel that? That's pure relaxation, no external stimuli needed. Just the mind doing all the work."
Kara's head lolled slightly, completely lost in the overwhelming comfort both were providing. "Mmm. This might actually be a tie."
Storm huffed. "No way."
Jean smiled. "If we need to go another round, I'm happy to."
Natasha, leaning against the doorway, rolled her eyes. "She's collecting girls like men collect comic books, and you're all just making it easier for her."
Gwen, arms crossed beside her, groaned. "I should've pulled something like this first."
Wanda, perched on the kitchen counter, smirked. "This is way more fun to watch."
Meanwhile, Xavier sat in his office, gripping the edge of his desk, sweat beading on his forehead.
He could feel it.
Something was wrong.
He had tried again—and failed—to read Kara's mind. He had tried every technique, but her consciousness was an impenetrable force, a void of raw, overwhelming power. Worse still, the women around her were changing.
The X-Men, the students, even some of the faculty… They were all gravitating toward her. And the men? They felt nothing.
It was only the women.
Xavier's hands clenched. This was dangerous. Unchecked, this could spiral into something catastrophic.
He needed countermeasures.
"Beast," he said into his intercom, voice tight. "I need you and Cyclops to meet me immediately. We have a potential anomaly."
The intercom crackled back. "An anomaly?" Beast's voice held a note of curiosity. "What kind of anomaly?"
Xavier hesitated before answering.
"A Kryptonian one."
Jean was fully aware of Xavier's paranoia.
She could feel it, the way his mind pulsed with growing unease, the way he was desperately searching for a way to counteract Kara's influence.
She smirked.
It was adorable.
Did he really think he could stop Kara?
Did he think he could stop her?
Jean leaned back on her bed, trailing a single finger along her temple, feeling the presence of the psychic parasite she had planted inside Xavier years ago.
Oh, he had been so sure.
So sure that he could tame her, suppress her, keep her under control.
But Jean had played the long game.
That parasitic thread nestled deep inside his brain? That was hers.
It had been feeding off his psychic energy for years.
Every time he tried to suppress the Phoenix? She had siphoned more.
Every time he thought he was keeping her in check? She was breaking him down.
And now?
He was crippled, bald, and completely unaware that she had done it to him.
Jean stifled a laugh, but it bubbled up anyway.
He was literally too weak to stand against her.
Her.
The Phoenix.
And now? He wanted to move against Kara?
Jean's fingers tapped lazily against her knee.
Maybe she'd let him try.
Just to see how much worse she could make it for him.
She bit her lip, the thought deliciously tempting.
She could make him forget entirely. She could trap him in his own mind, leave him drooling in a chair, a prisoner of his own thoughts.
Or… she could just let him keep digging his own grave.
Yes. That was better.
She smiled to herself, stretching.
The best kind of defeat was the one where they never even realized they'd lost.
The next morning, Xavier sat at the war table with Beast and Cyclops, rubbing his temples as he explained the disturbing pattern he had uncovered.
Beast adjusted his glasses. "So… she only affects women?"
Xavier nodded grimly. "It seems to be unconscious, but yes. The more time they spend around her, the more attached they become."
Cyclops folded his arms, eyes narrowing. "What's the worst-case scenario here?"
Xavier exhaled slowly. "If this continues unchecked… we may not have any female X-Men left capable of independent thought."
Silence.
Beast cleared his throat. "That seems… drastic, Charles."
Xavier frowned. "Is it? Look around. Look at how many of them are—"
The door creaked open.
Jean stepped inside, her expression unreadable.
Xavier immediately tensed, sensing something was off.
"Jean?" he asked carefully. "Something wrong?"
Jean tilted her head, her lips twitching in amusement. "Oh, nothing's wrong, Professor."
Her green eyes flickered with something else.
Something unknowable.
Something ancient.
Something that reminded him exactly who he had been trying to suppress for years.
She smiled.
"Everything is fine, professor."
Everything's going exactly the way it should. Soon, they would all pay a terrible price for their words, one no man is ever prepared to pay.
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