#this and the shield summit are so talk show drama of them

[alternativeproject]

This was so soap opera of them. “You’re tearing this family apart” level drama

[drakewalkerfantasy]

The Secret of Affair (Tatum x F!MC)

Summary: The Secret is the only way for them to be together. But how long will they be able to keep it until Madam President will find out the truth? And how easily it will be for them not forget about the rules in public? Couple of drinks in and the darkness… will it be possible for them to keep a secret? Or will they fall ones again in the arms of each other?

Words: 3699

Rating: T

Warning: skinny dipping

Authors notes: I really hope you will enjoy this. Please let me know if still want to be tagged and what I can improve. This chapter mostly filler chapter. 

Sequel for The art of Foreign Affairs

Previous parts of The Secret of Foreign Affairs.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The sun was barely rising and the room was still bathing in the darkness, when Claire felt a softest touch of someone’s lips on her bare shoulder. She groaned quietly, still too tired and hungover after yesterday, trying to roll over to the side and go back to the peaceful sleep she was so unceremoniously ripped out from. But the man behind her didn't stop, gently kissing her up her neck and across her jawline closer to her ear until she could feel the hot burning breath against it.

“Go back to sleep,” she grumbled to the man next to her.

“I need to go. Madam President arriving in a few hours,” whispered Tatum to her ear, kissing her softly on a lobe, before grazing his fingers over her abdomen. The featherlight touch - making her stomach fluttering with butterflies.

“Oh my God, I almost forgot,” she jolted up, almost immediately falling back with a groan. Feeling how the nausea washed over her and her body ached.

“Are you feeling okay,” asked Tatum, brushing strands of hair out of Claire’s eyes, watching how they fluttered open meeting his with a sleepy smile.

“After drinking too much? Or after mind blowing orgasms, when I literally passed out from?”

“Both,” chuckled Tatum.

“Yes... no... God, I feel like dying, but it was totally worth it,” she murmured, wrapping her hands around Tatum’s neck and pulling him closer to her. Her body stretched against his, and their lips met in a sweet kiss. “On the other hand... I don’t think I thanked you for that,” she whispered trying to meet Tatum’s lips again, but instead feeling his hands on her shoulders holding her back with gentle resistance.

“CoCo, I really need to go,” he groaned, meeting the most adorable pout he had ever seen. Trying the best he could to resist her. “And you need to get ready. I left an aspirin for you on the night table and glass of water. I will be back, when your mother arrives.”

“Okay,” she sighed in defeat, falling back to her pillow with closed eyes, suddenly feeling the gentle press of Tatum’s lips to hers followed by the soft whisper into her ear.

“I love you, and after finally having you... I just cannot... cannot risk losing you again.”

“I love you too,” whispered Claire in reply with her eyes still closed. Not able to risk them to open, feeling the pressure of tears building behind them. Listening for the door to close after a moment.

In a few hours Claire was finally ready for the day, anxiously pacing through the suite’s kitchen. Feeling simultaneously exhausted and wired up. Ignoring Dionne’s futile attempts to distract her obviously distraught friend, while she managed to give only half-hearted replies. Letting something similar to huffs and hums leave her throat.

Her perfectly manicured nails dug into her palms, leaving the half moon crescendos in the soft flesh. Her white teeth biting the corner of her rosy mouth, feeling how the worry started to rise in her. Her eyes darted to the clock now and then, getting more anxious with every passing second, when finally they heard a knock on the door, followed by Murphy and Tatum letting themselves in.

Her heart jolted in her chest when her gaze met Tatum’s. The calm washed over her the instance he came closer as if his sole presence would make it easier for her to survive this weekend. 

One weekend with my mother... just one weekend and then... then we will be able to go back to what we have. Just one weekend to be cautious around each other.

Thought she, feeling how the back of his hand brushed against hers, instantly sending the rush of heat through her body. Making her whisper Oh God... in a breathless moan, when his heated gaze focused on hers, and she was barely able to recognise that he was speaking to her. It was until she felt the gentle touch to her shoulder jolting her back to the present.

“Claire... Claire? Are you okay?” Asked Tatum, his stony mask back in place, but she still could recognise the sipping concern in his voice, mixed with longing and gentleness of his eyes. “Your mother is already here. She sent me to let you know that she is waiting in the quad. But if you need a moment...”

“No... I’m fine... Ready to face the day now, if you are,” said Claire taking a deep breath before stepping outside of their suite. Stumbling back from surprise when the flash of the cameras started to blind them from all sides. Instantly, Tatum shielded Claire as she muscled through the mob, feeling sick... almost suffocating from all the attention.

“That’s enough. Back off,” snapped Tatum when one of the reporters’ showed the microphone in Claire’s face. His hand almost on an instinct found Claire’s behind his back, taking it gently in his and leading her away from the crowd of the reporters. “Are you okay?” he asked, when they finally reached the centre of the quad. Looking around to make sure that no one was watching them.

“I’m fine...,” she breathed, reluctantly letting go of Tatum’s hand still walking behind him, when he suddenly stopped, turning to face her.

“Really?” sceptically asked Tatum.

“Okay... The reporters... they can find a way to twist everything no matter how innocent it is. And with them here... all around us makes me freak out. What if they will sense something between us? What if my mum will get a gist of it?”

“Claire, they would find a way to stir drama whether it’s true or not. So don’t let this get to you. And regarding u...,” he said, suddenly stopping short, taking a hasty step away from Claire. His eyes instantly became a shade darker, while his lips turned into a thin line. His posture visibly stiffens, when the steely voice rang behind them. Making her own blood to run cold.

“Claire, there you are. I and Winston started to wonder if you got lost. Or if the head of your security was keeping you away from your own mother,” said Madam President, placing one hand around Claire’s shoulders. Letting her go, the moment paparazzi were out of sight.

“Tatum here was just briefing me regarding the press,” hastily intervened Claire, while her mother’s eyes snapped back to hers from Tatum, taking her in as if for the first time.

“You look kind of tired. Were you up late last night?” asked her mother suspiciously. Her gaze shifted from unreadable Tatum’s expression to Claire’s and back. Noticing how Claire's pupils dilated slightly and a dark shadow passed over her face. Seeing something new in her gaze... something she never seen in it before. No... not guilt. Fear... fear and anger. Claire's hands in a white-knuckled grip placed in front of her, and her voice even. But even with how hard she tried to hide it, her mother instantly knew that Claire was lying.

“Oh, yes. I was trying to cram in a little more studying and lost track of time.”

“Claire, if you are going to lie, at least do it well,” chastised Claire’s mother. 

“Okay... Fine...," tensely replied Claire, getting a raised brow from her mother from the way she was talking. "Okay, I went out partying with some of my friends last night. Can we go now? I think you may want to meet some of my friends and their parents,” said Claire after a deep breath doing her best to sound no more different then she usually was. Her eyes seeking Tatum's for support, but even though his eyes were on them, his expression blank... professional. And the only thing that gave him away was the colour of his eyes that changed from the oak coolness to the chocolate warmth only for a split second, when their gazes met.

He watched with his jaw tensed how Claire’s mother wrapped her hand firmly around Claire. Her sharp nails dug into her daughter’s shoulder, making her wince. Fake smile not reaching her eyes, when she waved at photographers taking their picture before moving toward the garden. Making him, Winston, and the rest of her security team trail behind. Having a bad, crushing feeling that she knows or the least suspects them.

Finally after hours and hours of showing her mother around campus, socialising with different VIP dignitaries and introducing some of her friends, they headed to the Welcome Dinner.

“Finally. I’m starving,” said Claire when they got close to the Main building. Her hands nervously fidgeted with her new dress folds, throwing a cautious gaze toward Tatum with a small smile. Feeling the heat of his gaze  running up her bare skin even behind the stony mask.

“I’m looking forward to meeting some of your other classmates. We may make some new alianses. Show our people that we may have some other...,” she fell silent for a moment, contemplating her next words. “perspective opportunities before the Peace Summit.”

“Ummmm... I can always introduce you to...,” but before she could finish, she was interrupted by Winston who hastily was approaching them.

“Madam President? A moment,” Said he, pulling her aside. Making Claire sigh in relief. Before suddenly getting startled by the tap on her shoulder.

“Blaine,” gasped Claire, whirling toward him before looking around. Her heart was thundering violently and she looked toward Tatum meeting his darkened gaze before looking back at Blaine.

“Well, look who got all dressed up,” said Blaine with a smirk, his gaze roaming over her body before meeting her eyes again. “You’re really trying to impress someone. Who is the lucky guy?"

“Blaine...,” Claire raised her brow in warning, feeling how the blush started to colour her cheeks. “Also who said you aren’t this lucky guy?” suddenly asked Claire, noticing her mother’s eyes on them from afar. Her cheeks flamed when she threw a quick glance toward Tatum. Feeling how her heart flipped in her chest from the intense stare behind the blank expression in his eyes, noting how his fists balled and his brows furrowed just slightly. His lips tightened into a thin line, and the vein on his neck started to pulse, indicating that he didn’t like the way Blaine looked at her, making her instantly feel hot.

“Oh? Interesting... I thought...,” he started also looking in Tatum's direction with the raised brow before cutting himself short with a wide smile.

“Anyway. Seems like you will have no problem with that. So how is it going with your mum? You seemed pretty tense.”

“It’s okay. Everything’s fine. How about yours?”

“Spent the entire day dodging their questions about why I was almost expelled...”

“At least we won the debate... Right?”

“Yeah, no offence, but I was actually surprised they took the news that we were paired together, so well. You know... considering our countries' history,” said Blaine.

But before Claire could reply, the two of them got interrupted by her mother... and two other people, that Claire could only assume were Blaine’s parents.

The tension immediately hung in the air, making Tatum step closer protectively standing behind Claire. His eyes trained on her just in case, making Blaine to throw a glance toward Claire and roll his eyes. Finally after exchanging pleasantries and wishing each other good luck, Blaine’s family headed off toward the entrance with Blaine unwillingly trailing behind them. His head snapping toward Claire sending her a warm smile, making Tatum’s fists to clench even harder and step forward.

“Claire, Madam President, I’ll lead you to your seats,” finally said Tatum, not even looking in Claire’s direction, leading them inside. His posture was stiff, but when he helped Claire to her place, his hand gently brushed hers, sending her pulse into overdrive, making the soft smile almost break through her neutral expression.

His soft voice washed over her and her heart starting to race even, though the words he was saying were meant to everyone.

“I’ll be stationed around the perimeter with the other guards if you need me,” departing as soon as she nodded.

A couple of hours later and dozens of tense conversations with her mother, the dinner finally started to wind down. But before that Winston got a notification on his phone. His eyes passing Claire, sending an uneasy shiver run down her spine.

“Madam President, we have a situation,” said he, showing Claire’s mother his phone screen with the dark look.

“Claire... I’m really sorry, but I need to address that,” said her mother after a moment. Her expression is blank and professional. The same one Claire had seen for so many years and so many times. Her eyes followed her mother’s, noticing the long look she gave Tatum as if looking for something. Still unsure what she was looking for, but whatever it was clearly she didn’t find it.

“Now? I thought you told me that you cleared your schedule for the weekend, mom,” said Claire, trying for her voice to stay steady.

“I know, but this is important and needs my immediate attention. It will take a couple of hours tops and then we can celebrate your achievements and spend some time together. I promise.”

“What could this possibly be, that you suddenly need to leave?”

“Please, Claire. You know we don’t discuss that.”

“Yes, it seems we hardly discuss anything lately,” snapped Claire, abruptly standing up and rushing toward the exit, not even bothering to look if her mother followed.

Claire quickly bursted into the cool night, trying to hold herself together, but the emotions bubbled up inside her.

The fear... the anger... the hurt... and sadness...

She was so deep in her feelings and thoughts that she didn’t hear anyone approaching her. Until she felt the soft touch to her shoulder and the familiar voice ringing out just behind her, making her turn around.

“Claire... are you okay?” asked Tatum, his brows furrowed at her crestfallen expression.

“Yes...,” lied Claire before her shoulders slumped under Tatum’s knowing gentle gaze. “God, no... I caught her gaze when she looked at you... after Winston showed her something on his phone... She... she looked at you as if she was looking for something. As if she knows about us... Oh my God... what if she knows? I cannot lose you again... I just... I just cannot,” mumbled Claire, feeling how it became difficult to breath until she felt how the Tatum’s grip tightened on her shoulders and he pulled her closer to his chest not caring if someone would see them.

His voice washed over her like soothing waves, while his fingers drew soft circles over her bare skin.

“You will not lose me. I’m not letting that happen,” he whispered against her ear, kissing her temple gently. His grip getting tighter for a moment before stepping aside cautiously looking around.

Her own gaze sweeping across the quad before she started to walk, wanting to be anywhere else but here.

“Where are you going?” frowned Tatum, picking up the pace to match hers, reaching her in a couple of strides.

“I need to get away... at least for a moment,” she replied, not stopping to walk.

“You know I can’t let you just wander off by yourself,” sighed Tatum, jogging after her and putting his hand on her shoulder.

“I really don’t care about security protocol right now, Tatum,” she said, whirling at him. Her eyes darken in warning.

“I’m not talking about protocol. I’m talking about being your boyfriend. So please let me come with you?” he said earnestly, finally making Claire nod before walking into the night further away from the main hall.

A short walk later, Claire and Tatum arrived at the shores of Vancross’s private lake. Gazing silently across the water until Tatum cleared his throat.

“You know you can talk to me...” he said gently.

“I know... I’m just so tired of being the President’s perfect daughter. I’m tired of still trying so hard... And more importantly I’m tired of feeling like I live in the box. Tatum, I love you. And I even cannot have a normal relationship with you... I lost you for five years because of her. She hurt and tortured you... and all because of what? I still even don't know for what... she knew I had feelings for you... she knew it,” whispered Claire, feeling how her eyes filled with tears, and her voice became more rasped when she looked away, trying to sweep them away. But before she could do that she felt Tatum’s fingers wrapping around her wrist before brushing her tears with his thumb.

His body now closer than before, and his gaze meeting hers. The familiar aroma of his aftershave washing over them, the scent of ocean breeze mixing with her floral perfume. She took a step back still holding his intense gaze, and began undressing. The teasing gleam sparkling in her eyes.

“What are you doing?” chuckled Tatum, the sound of it dying the instant the scarlet dress dropped to her feet. Her tanned body bathing in the dim light of the full moon. And he took her in, swallowing heavily, while his eyes hungrily roamed over her body. The quiet almost desperate groan leaving his throat, and his length getting instantly hard from the mere thought of striding toward her and taking her into his arms. To kiss her... to touch her... to taste her. And oh God how much he wanted to taste her... and then... shit. He thought, feeling how his flesh pulsed, jerking instantly when he caught her gaze and the direction where it was aiming.

“I’m going swimming. And what did you think?” She replied with the laugh, nodding toward his protruding bulge with a wide smile.

He stared incredulously at her before his face softened into a genuine smile, and he began unbuttoning his shirt, not letting go of her gaze with a smirk.

“If that’s what you need right now... who am I to say no to you.”

Soon both of them were standing completely naked in front of each other not able to stop but admire each other’s bodies. Before Claire sidled up to Tatum. Her body brushing his, taking his hand in hers gently and pulling him down the small dock with a mix of mischief and seduce in her gaze.

“For once, you’re making my job easy,” he whispered against her lips, groaning when her free hand slipped down his bare chest, sending a shiver as she moved lower.

“Yeah? But I think I already made it hard... yep... very, very hard,” noted Claire, her fingers grazing his already very hard cock, making him hiss. Whispering the words against his lips, distracting him enough to be able to pull him into the water.

His hands instinctively went to Claire’s hips, holding her firmly against his body, while the water lapped around them. His lips finding hers slowly pulling her into the kiss. His lips brushing hers, softly, delicately. His tongue meeting hers in a sensual dance, pressing their bodies together, while his fingers dug gently into her flesh, bringing her closer to him until they finally broke apart.

Tatum’s hands wrapped protectively around her, cradling her against his warm chest. Her hand placed over his heart feeling how it was pounding a mile a minute. Both falling quite for a moment, taking in the stillness of the night. Somehow, both feeling more at peace with each other than they ever felt. After a moment Tatum finally spoke.

“Do you remember the time when you ran away from home when you were eight?” asked he quietly, wiping the trickles of water from Claire’s temple, lingering there for a moment longer, waiting for her to nod before continuing. “You packed all your favourite books. Still cannot figure out how you didn’t get tired sooner, lugging them around.” He chuckled softly looking at her tenderly. “I found you in the forest near to your house a few hours later. You were lost... hungry... and scared.”

“Tatum,” softly stopped him, Claire. Her eyes met his with such vulnerability that his heart clenched painfully in his chest. Knowing even before she could say the words, what she wanted to say.

“Claire, no... what I meant is... we all need someone looking out for us. Someone who will do anything to make us happy. I always wanted to be that person for you. I still do want to be that person. And even though the real world is dangerous, it isn’t more dangerous than the one we are living in. So it’s up to you. If and when you will be willing and ready, I'll be waiting for you. To be the one to make you happy. To look after you.”

“Thank you,” whispered Claire before sliding her arms around Tatum’s neck and passionately pressing her lips to his. He reacted instantly, pulling Claire protectively into his arms. Dipping his head to meet her lips. His hand tangled in her hair, angling her head for a deeper access, pushing his tongue past her clenched teeth. His kisses are a welcomed mix of rough and soft, of sloppy and tender, of fierce and sweet. His lips, a mixture of citrus and coffee. And his touch like flames of fire gently caressing every inch of her exposed skin.

Tatum pulled her closer until every part of Claire’s body melted into his making her head to fall back, surrendering to him completely. He caressed her cheek with one rugged hand while running the other down her side, making her gasp and moan from the way his fingertips fluttered against her skin. His kisses confident... knowing... familiar. His touches exploring... comforting... sensual. His taste intoxicating and Claire melted against his body as his hand slipped past her waist, the desire practically pulsing through him.

Suddenly, the flash of a camera illuminated Claire, jolting them apart in a panic...

“What the hell was that?” gasped Claire panting heavily, still dizzy from his kisses.

“It’s the paparazzi. And we just gave them a front-page story,” growled Tatum, drugging his hands through his dump hair.

Tagging: @choices-bound​ @jamespotterthefirst​ @mercury84choices​ @k2624​ @thefrenchiemama​ @choicesreal​ @starrystarrytrouble​ @boneandfur​ @walkerswhiskeygirl​ @sophxwithers​

[jackyjango]

“I get where you’re coming from dude, but honestly shut the hell up and don’t talk about her/him that way.”

Thank you for the ask, @ikeracity​! Sorry it took this long to get back. And sorry for the length of the answer. 

—-

The Genoshan public know the Professor and Magneto as veritable adversaries. As Mutant activists, Professor X and Magneto have rarely, or never, seen eye to eye on mutant issues and rights. They oppose and contradict each other even they fight on the same side– as rare as a blue moon the occurrence is. With Magneto becoming the leader of the extremists’ club called ‘The Brotherhood of Mutants’, and the Professor’s followers declaring themselves as the ‘X-Men’, announcing Dr. Charles Xavier as their leader, their radically different viewpoints have made them something akin to cult figures.

‘The young front of Mutant Politics,’ the Genoshan Daily reports.

What would have been benign arguments with anyone else turn into raging wars when these two are involved. Their infamous debate in the Parliament on the Mutant Registration Bill, though a thing of the past, is still on the common tongue.

‘Things get very furious very fast with these Mutants,’ MP, Steve Rogers quips about Professor Xavier and Magneto.

The press seems to love them; for when they share a screen– or even breath the same air– there’s no dearth of drama.

When he’s not the acclaimed HOD of Genetics at the Genoshan University, Professor Xavier is a socialite, the darling of the Genoshan elite club. His step-father, the late Kurt Marko, was a member of the Congress. His mother, the late Sharon Xavier-Marko, founded most of the charities in the country. However easy the Professor’s entry into the Parliament was, the telepath quickly gained popularity and became the leader of the Integrationalists by his cogency alone. He’s loved by subsets of the human and mutant population alike for this very quality. The Parliament, however, seem to love him for another reason entirely. For the reason that he’s their only shield against their abominable opponent, Magneto.

Magneto has a murky past– more based in rags than in riches. His cryptic persona is a hit amongst the mutant youth, and paired with his phlegmatic character and baritone voice, it has garnered him the support of the mutant masses. It is safe to state that the leader of the Separatists and master metal bender has street cred. That, however, hasn’t stopped him from making his presence felt in the Parliament from time to time.

And when the Professor and Magneto come face to face, the Genoshan public is in for a treat, for their fights are nothing less than a display of fireworks.

-x-

They fight at home, too. Only here, they’re Charles and Erik, and their fights are the kind that come with a terrifying sense of domesticity.

‘Charles, I can’t find my other sock. Have you seen it?’ Erik shouts from the walk-in closet, scowling at the grey sock in his hand.

‘Just a minute,’ comes Charles’ reply after a pause.

‘Keep scowling like that, and you’ll give yourself more wrinkles,’ says Charles as he walks into the room. He’s dressed in Erik’s track pants and sports a pair of mismatched socks on his feet– both in close variants of grey.

‘Keep stealing my socks like that, and you’ll make me an old man ahead of time,’ Erik retorts on spotting his missing pair.

‘Hey, you know my feet get cold quickly. Besides, it’s not my fault that you own only grey socks. It’s hard to differentiate.’

‘You have the same kind of tea with different names in ten different boxes. You don’t see me complaining about it.’

‘Just like I don’t complain about your stupid hat collection that doesn’t see the outside of the coat rack?’

‘Hey, firstly, they’re not hats. Secondly-’ Erik stops and sniffs forcefully. ‘Something is burning on the stove.’

Charles’ eyes go wide in remembrance and the alarmed oh dear ricochets between their minds. They both run to the kitchen at once.

It’s mundaneness at its best at the Xavier-Lehnsherr household.

*

With over three million followers– and growing– on each of their social media, the Professor and Magneto’s accounts quickly turn into combat zones without much instigation. While Professor Xavier– a.k.a Professor X– is well known for his diplomacy, the infamous metal bender, Magneto, is celebrated for his ripostes. Their interesting dynamics have encouraged their followers to deride those on the other end. To add fuel to the fire, the Professor and Magneto choose to mutually censure each other publicly. When the Genoshan Mail asked for his opinion on Magneto rallying for Genosha to become an all-mutant state, the Professor said:

‘Magneto is an impetuous narcissist. He can rally all he wants. It won’t change the fact the Genosha is for everyone.’

In 2016, the Professor made a verbal jab at Magneto’s suit and his lopsided cape.

‘It’s tacky and belongs to a circus,’ he said.

Magneto himself has called the Professor ‘a naive fool’ on multiple occasions. Once during the UN Peace Summit, no less.  

When asked about the Professor’s trust in the Government to pass a bill banning suppressants, Magneto has been reported to have said:

‘Professor Xavier is a pretentious know-it-all in a tweed suit. The fact that he’s an all-trusting fool on top of it will be doom of mutants.’

Acting by their leader’s examples, several prominent heads from both the sides have indulged in verbal wars over the years, slamming the other down with slanderous comments.

The Professor and Magneto, however, seem to hold the rights to mutually disparage each other just to themselves. When Mark Blackwell had asked the Professor on how he felt being associated to a supremacist monster like Magneto on Follow the leader, the Professor’s outburst had stunned the filming crew– and the larger part of the population when the show was aired.

‘No man is a monster, Mr. Blackwell. And certainly not Magneto. He might be an extremist and blunt in his approach, but his intentions have never swayed from Mutant equality. Please choose your words more carefully in the future.’

The Professor’s blue eyes had reminded one and all that inciting the ire of an omega-level telepath isn’t the wisest idea.

Magneto, too, has made it clear that he isn’t the one to fall behind. The proposal for a dynamic medical insurance scheme for those with extreme and physical mutations had taken the mutant community by storm. Magneto had cried that the scheme was a sham in a rather colourful language, and the Professor had assured that the Government was amicable for negotiations. The Genoshan Broadcasting Network had brought the two leaders and their supporters for a Prime time face-off, witnessed by audience from all fragments of society. The steady stream of subtitles on the screen had run through several speeches and arguments– including that of the two leaders.

With the last half hour of the show dedicated to audience questions, a mutant by the name of Leech had taken the stand behind the microphone and thrown his question at the Professor.

‘Give this stupid scheme a chance? Trust the Government to treat us fairly? Look at me, Professor,’ he had said, pointing to his green skin and overly large head, ‘Do you think a hospital would be willing to take me in if not for monetary benefit? An entitled mutant like you will never understand the plight of the likes of us. Who are you to fight for our rights? What have you done for us other than looking pretty and writing fancy books? Hell, why do we need an enemy on the outside when scums like you are amongst us?’

Magneto had snapped immediately, face stony and voice as hard as iron,

‘I get where you’re coming from, dude. But honestly, shut the hell up and don’t speak about him that way. Charles Xavier has done more for mutants than you’ll never know.’

Though the transcript on the display had read ‘hell’, members of the audience had heard it differently– something the network chose to politely omit.

‘That still doesn’t stop them from calling each other names,’ observes comedian Remi Lebeau.

-x-

On their sofa, Charles turns in Erik’s arms to face the latter. The thick blanket that is careless

thrown over their laps wrinkles with the action. Here, too, they call each other names– if endearments and sweet nothings could be categorised thus.

‘You didn’t have to break his camera, darling. He was only doing his job,’ Charles scolds mildly.

Erik rolls his eyes. ‘I didn’t break it. Just disabled it. Besides, he wasn’t doing his job. He was condemning you.’

Charles sighs. ‘Why won’t you listen to me when I tell you that I can defend my own honour?’

‘My point precisely, liebling,’ Erik takes Charles’ hand and interlaces their fingers. ‘You can, but you don’t. So I don’t care how many times you prohibit me to, I’ll do it-’ Erik pulls Charles close and whispers against his lips ‘-because I love you.’

Charles looks at Erik then like he’d handed him the moon, and brings their foreheads together. ‘I love you, too,’ he coos.

‘Not more than me. No,’ Erik says shaking his head against Charles’ petulantly.

‘You’re such a child, Erik,’ Charles says chuckling fondly. ‘A six foot child.’

‘With a nine inch dick,’ Erik completes.

Charles looks bemused when he pulls back– torn between laughing over and punching Erik.

He settles for punching Erik in the ribs.

*

With all the hype that surrounds the Professor and Magneto, little, or nothing, is known about their personal lives. It’s only business when these two mutants are in the Primetime Bulletin. While a golden band has made the Professor’s ring finger its permanent residence, what resides under the metal bender’s leather clad hands remains a mystery.

A small fraction of the society, however, have a notion that the two were, or are, involved. To what capacity, is the goal of their mission. A steady stream of blogs run on the world wide web that decrypt their speeches and catalogue their appearances against plausible theories of their coupling.

‘They’re fucking for sure,’ says Kitty Pryde (24), founder of Ishipprofessorxandmagneto.com. ‘The fact that the Professor is married be damned.’

Professor Xavier has been evasive on the topic– neither confirming nor denying the rumours of a significant other.

When Syrin confronted Magento for mutantlove.com, the metal bender responded,

‘Whom I fuck or don’t fuck is none of anybody’s business.’

Very few have dared to broach the topic publically after that.

-x-

Charles sighs standing at the foot of their king sized bed. ‘I thought we decided not to get presents, love.’

‘It’s not a present. I saw this and thought that it would look good on you.’ Erik says as Charles picks up the lilac sweater laid out on the comforter. The label reads: ‘Happy 10th Wedding Anniversary, Charles’. The telepath holds it to his torso and smoothens his hands along the soft wool. ‘Look, it even brings out your eyes,’ Erik says with a pleased smile.

Charles places the sweater on the bed carefully and closes the distance between them by looping his arms around Erik’s neck. ‘That’s cheating, because I didn’t get you anything,’ he drawls.

Erik circles his arms around Charles’ waist and pulls him impossibly close. ‘You’re more than enough,’ he says with a dreamy smile.

‘Romantic!’ Charles giggles.

‘No, I’m not.’

‘Yes, you are!’

‘Absolutely not!’

‘Do you want to fight me on this one, too,’ Charles aks with raised brows.

Erik grins with far too many teeth. ‘Only if it’s foreplay.’

*

The Professor, with his Oxford education and the three PhDs that come with it, is regarded highly amongst the intellectuals. His students often see him in frumpy cardigans and floppy hair. But on the rare occasions when he chooses to grace the read carpet to raise funds for charity, he’s a dashing vision in bespoke tuxedos and stylised hair. His rather charming personality, posh British accent and manners complete the ‘gentleman’ image of Charles Francis Xavier. His ‘No Violence’ policy only ramps it up to higher levels.

His students, colleagues, and acquaintances have nothing but high praises to offer about the good professor.

‘Charles is the kindest man I know,’ says Dr, Moira MacTaggart, HOD of Criminal Law at the Genoshan University.  

‘We love the Professor. He’s been a guiding light in many of our lives,’ says Jubilee, a student in Professor Xavier’s Mutations class. When asked what vexes the Professor the most, she laughs. ‘Expletives. He hates them!’

-x-

‘Fuck…’ Charles moans impatiently below Erik– his skin flushed and hair disheveled– and levels a smack to Erik’s backside.

‘What was that for?’ Erik asks cluelessly, eyes wide and mouth ajar.

‘Come on, Erik, move. Put your back into it, and use your dick,’ Charles growls, bringing his hand up to twist it in Erik’s hair.

‘Mein Gott, Charles,’ Erik gasps out in mock indignation. ‘What a dirty little mouth you have.’

‘It’s the same mouth that sucks your dick and kisses you every morning. Unless you want to change any of that, shut up and fuck me.’

That puts an end to Erik’s line of rejoinders. ‘Yes, your Highness,’ he groans and promptly complies.

*

Very few to none have seen the man behind Magneto’s helmet. The image of his Maroon bodysuit backed by his lopsided cape, however, has become the definition of the Government’s nightmare. The Press and the media in general have an on and off love affair with the metal bender. One one hand, he can shoot their TRPs heavenwards with his instigating speeches that move the masses and sets them afoot. On the other hand, he can break their cameras and recorders when it pleases him, leaving them as eyewitnesses as proof of their news.

While a devoted fragment of the society worships him as their hero– embodying his moto of ‘Mutant and Proud’, and willing to follow him to the ends of the world– not many are pleased by Magneto’s violent approach to solving issues.

‘You can love him or hate him. But you can never ignore him,’ says Claire Ferguson, host of the Late Late Show.

His displays of his powers have simultaneously induced awe and terror in many.

‘I’m terrified of him,’ says Samuel Wilson, recalling the time when he had simply watched in horror as Magneto uplifted a football stadium. ‘The man can melt metal for fuck’s sake!’

-x-

In the kitchen, Erik melts a bar of dark chocolate and stirs it steadily. On the counter, a metal sheet bends in the shape of a heart. A red gift wrap and ribbon lie still to be used.

‘Where is my husband, and what have you done with him?’ Charles deadpans when Erik enters the study with the box in hand.

Erik chuckles and floats the box to Charles. ‘Happy Valentine’s Day, liebling.’

Charles beams, but just to be difficult, he adds: ‘Aren’t we a little too old to be celebrating Valentines’?’

Erik walks to Charles’ side. ‘That reminds me. What do the kids ask these days?’ He makes a show of thinking, and with a smouldering smile, asks: ‘Will you be my Valentine, Charles?’

Charles laughs and pulls Erik in by his shoulders. ‘You old fool, I already am,’ he says fondly, and crashes their mouths in a searing kiss.

-x-

They’re either furiously fighting, or passionately making love. There seems to be no in-betweens for these two mutants.

—

Prompts here

[shituationist]

 SHITHOLE ORG

Not only did Turning Point refuse to accurately report on the facts of the event, but you assured us you would have our backs when we did receive this onslaught of harassment online, and from other Turning Point chapters. Instead, Turning Point not only did nothing about this, but invited one of the bullies to speak on stage at the Student Action Summit in Florida this past December. Meanwhile, I have been disciplined by Turning Point national and Charlie Kirk himself for defending myself against other Turning Point members who came after me. Strangely, these same individuals were allowed to criticize us free of charge.

Although I thought the safe space event was funny and have zero remorse for holding it, I took full responsibility for it when Turning Point failed to show any leadership. I had zero obligation to act in this manner, however my heart and soul were still dedicated to helping this organization grow as much as possible. With this, I swallowed my pride, apologized and moved forward in the direction that Turning Point wanted me to. Since then, I have worked tirelessly to make the event a thing of the past, and make Turning Point at Kent most remembered for the values we represent, rather than the event we held.

Looking to help the chapter move into a new direction, I have been eager to host guest speakers, and plan big events for my final semester of college. However, despite Frankie giving me the go-ahead to host the NRA at my campus all the way back in October, no headway has been made in getting them to Kent more than four months later. After asking Frankie if I could organize this event myself, he refused to let me do so. Still, all these months later, zero events have been planned for our chapter, and neither of you have offered us any help. You would think having one of the most active chapters in the country, and wanting to help Kent State get a better name for its chapter, you would be jumping at the opportunity to secure us big name speakers. Instead, you can’t even help us coordinate a single, menial event, let alone a speaker.

I have tried time and time again to reach out to the two of you to get an event scheduled, and neither of you seem to have the time to get back to me, despite it being your job to do so. Why are they paying you to help grow chapters if you can’t even answer a text? I get more of a response when Frankie wants to argue with me about why he is agreeing with people who call me a Nazi on Twitter, rather than getting the NRA to campus.

Last semester, Frankie told us we were not allowed to bring Kyle Chapman (the Based Stickman) to our campus since Turning Point wants to distance itself from the alt-right, despite him being a Constitutionalist Ron Paul supporter. Meanwhile, Frankie was liking tweets from notorious Charlottesville attendee and white nationalist icon, James Allsup.

Last semester, Frankie told us we were not allowed to bring Kyle Chapman (the Based Stickman) to our campus since Turning Point wants to distance itself from the alt-right, despite him being a Constitutionalist Ron Paul supporter. Meanwhile, Frankie was liking tweets from notorious Charlottesville attendee and white nationalist icon, James Allsup.

Furthermore, you have been fully aware of the increasing levels of drama within our chapter, and offered to help mediate the situation back in December. As it has reached unbearable levels in the last few weeks, you two assured me you would handle the situation accordingly. Instead, you won’t take my phone calls at the times you tell me you want to talk to me, and can’t even so much as respond to a text yet again. You were also made aware of how this has started to affect my emotional health, and still refuse to take me seriously, and act as the leaders you are supposed to be. You had me believing you would have my back, but have instead left me alone once again. I did not have a choice to go to anyone else, and you assured me you would handle the situation.

As of right now, I am in disbelief at how I went from being so upbeat, enthusiastic, and passionate about this organization to being disgusted, frustrated, and embarrassed to have invested my entire senior year into an organization founded by a college dropout who hires some of the most incompetent, lazy, and downright dishonest people I have ever encountered. While Turning Point USA is a career for the two of you, for some of us it was a passion. Instead of recognizing this, you put your paychecks ahead of the principles you claim to represent, and turned your most dedicated activists away from your organization.

The diaper-clad right-wingers who organized a protest against “safe spaces” (can you imagine a dumber use of time and financial resources?) is quitting the organization and disbanding the chapter after Charlie Kirk failed to shield them from “online harassment”.

Why is this such a common theme on the right? Talking up a big game about how hard they are to offend, then whining for literal months about the “harassment” they faced on the internet, when they put themselves out as public figures against policies designed to protect students from harassment? Tuck your tail and run on home, kiddos.

Even sadder is that TPUSA, which receives millions of dollars from rich conservative donors, is unable to actually coordinate internal affairs with any semblance of effectiveness. I really suspect that TPUSA is just a scheme for Charlie Kirk to launch himself into media stardom, although it’s failing at even that since Kirk is apparently not creative enough in his (ab)use of language to inspire anything other than sneers and laughs.

However through all of this, I am thankful for something. I have realized how much of a shithole organization Turning Point USA is, and am glad I got out of this bullshit before I invested my whole life into it, let alone just my senior year of college. Now that I have a clear conscience and have no desire to continue my employment with Turning Point, I will have the time to find a real job, something I recommend for you. Maybe answering to business professionals rather than college dropouts, egotistic enough to put their face on stupid memes, will give you the leadership skills you desperately need for your positions.

What a fucking joke. Conservatives are the easiest people on the planet to scam. Anyone giving their money or time to Charlie Kirk deserves to be robbed by him.