hiya! i’m sun bun or sunny, 26, and lover of so many things. my current hyper fixation is: kurt wagner~
i’ve got lots of fics in progress, some here, some on ff.net (that site is dead right? should probably move it to ao3 lol). if you’ve got any questions about my fics lemme know! or if you just wanna talk about things like x-men, or batman, or young justice, or demon slayer, or hell even fourth wing (yes i have a fic cooking in the background for garrick tavis my beloved), just ask! imma list a whole bunch of things i like in the tags
edit: y’know what imma take requests. if you lovely people have an idea for me to write about (please be kurt please be kurt) shoot me an ask. and i’m always open to chat or give my opinions or head cannons about certain characters (can be NSFW as long as the character is of age) so like don’t ask me about something naughty for my baby boy muichiro, imma ignore it.
‘kay, love you byeeee ☀️
banner & divider from strangergraphics 💛
recent fic here — what if i miss you for the rest of my life? kurt wagner x f!reader
I have fallen into the pits of loving kurt wagner.... All I can imagine is going round after round with him, both your bodies exhausted, sweaty and he ends up using his tail to wrap around your hips lift you up and keep going until your both crying
and every time you feel yourself clench around him, your fingers dig into the sinew of his body, he makes reverent benediction to god, making prayers of thanks against the terrain of your skin, his eyes glassy and glazed with the pleasure that you both share in—he’s greedy and covetous in ways he restrains himself, the pious man made undone, the saint starkly sinning, eager to have taste of the body that houses the soul he tries every day to further acquaintance himself with and share the glory of…..
Hi could I request a Nightcrawler(Kurt Wagner) x reader where Kurt goes into kinda like a heat? Where he’s just really needy and whiney for the reader?
~Deeper Than Need~
Pairing: Kurt Wagner x Reader
Word Count: 1.4k
Warnings: needy Kurt, he talm bout inneeeeet(oral f receiving), multiple o's/overstim, marking, praise, I think that's everything
Genre: fluff but mostly smut
Summary: Kurt needs you in ways words cannot describe.
***
A/N: Thank you for the request! Hope you enjoy xp
You hum along to the music playing through your speakers as you plate your dinner from the stove. The sound of your phone ringing cuts your music off and with your plate in hand you jog into the living room to pick up.
"Hello!"
"Hey liebling." Kurt says softly.
"Hi baby. How're you?" You ask.
"Good. I'm good. Glad to hear your voice. You home from work?"
"Yes, I was just making dinner."
"Tell me about your day liebling."
"Work was fine! It was work, except Johnathan is still being a fucking weirdo to Melissa and I'm about to take care of it myself because this will be the 4th new employee to quit because of Johnathan and I actually like Melissa, I don't want her to leave because the company won't stop him from his creep bullshit. But it's Friday and that's a Monday probem so I'm gonna stop thinking about it for now. Oh after work I went grocery shopping and I found those sweets you like? Since they're so hard to find I bought a couple bags. You can keep one here and take the other back to the mansion when next I see you. I don't-" You stop mid sentence when Kurt lets out an odd sound. You barely notice it since you were speaking but it was definitely something.
"Kurt are you okay?" You frown.
"I'm fine." He says a bit gruffly. You listen carefully, his breathing is oddly erratic, heavy, kind of loud even.
"Why do you sound like that?"
"Like what?"
"I dunno it sounds like you're kinda breathing weird. Are you sure everything's alright?"
Just then, Kurt lets out a sound you're very familiar with. An undeniable grunt. Your eyes widen, you're pretty sure now you know what's going on here.
"Kurt Wagner are you jerking off right now?" You ask incredulously.
"Shut up." He says breathily. Guess he's not hiding it anymore. You're a bit shocked but also amused enough that you chuckle.
"You asked me to tell you about my day! If you were that horny you could've said something."
"It's your voice. I just- keep talking. Anything you want."
"I'm happy to keep talking baby but I think you'd enjoy my voice more if you came over."
"I don't want you to think that's why I called liebling, I really did call just to talk to you but-"
"I don't think that I know you too well."
"I'm sorry I just can't-"
"Kurt, come see me, I'm asking you to, are you really going to tell me no?" You ask in your bedroom voice. There's a stretch of silence on the other end. "Kurt?"
Not a moment later, your boyfriend is standing in front of you.
"You do not play fair my heart." He says pulling you up from the couch and crashing his lips against yours. You drape your arms over his shoulders. You weren't expecting the immediate intensity but you welcome the feel of his tongue exploring your mouth. His hands on your hips hold you as if his life depends on it. And then his lips are moving, trailing kisses down to your neck, littering your throat with love bites as you struggle to catch your breath from his bruising hello.
"Well hello to you too." You pant out, fingers threading into his hair.
"I'm sorry my sweet, I'm just- I feel like I'm going out of my mind. I have- my love, I am craving you with every atom of my being. I do not know how controlled I can be." He says, hands roaming over your body.
"You don't need to be controlled. I trust you."
Kurt teleports you both to your bedroom directly onto your mattress. Before you've adjusted to the change in orientation, he's kissing you, forcefully, frantically, trying to devour you.
"God I've missed you." He breathes, trailing his kisses to your throat, covering your skin with hickeys and enjoying the way you gasp and squirm under him. You feel his hands slide up into your shirt, fingers finding your nipples and tweaking the sensitive peaks, pulling more sweet noises from your lips. He briefly stops, only long enough to tug your shirt over your head. Then he's on you again, trailing kisses lower, replacing one set of fingers with his mouth, tongue gliding across your breast, licking and sucking one nipple while his fingers continue to toy with the other. You arch into his mouth, tangle and hand in his hair, slip your hand under his shirt, clawing at the skin just above his waist. And Kurt relishes in it, absorbing every reaction he gets from you, kissing down your stomach, pulling your shorts down and you swear you hear him muttering a prayer.
"Scheiße." Kurt whispers, a German swear that he uses rather frequently, "You always smell so fucking devine."
With that, he buries his face between your legs, tongue immediately collecting your wetness to swallow down. He groans at his first taste of you and like a starving animal presented with a feast he eats you as if he can't get enough. Kurt wraps his arm around your legs, holding you open and still as his tongue thrusts into you. You grind against his eager mouth as best you can with his secure grip on you. Kurt laves your clit with attention, pressing harshly against the bundle of nerves with vigorous circles and sharp flicks. Each moan he elicits from you spurs him on and it's not long before you're tumbling over the edge, your fingers tightening in his hair. He doesn't stop there, Kurt continues lapping at your cunt with relentless ardor. You lose count of your orgasms from his tongue, by the time he stops, gives you reprieve, your skin is slick with sweat and you're panting heavily.
"The way you taste is so addicting." Kurt sighs.
"Man I thought you might actually swallow me whole there." You chuckle breathlessly.
"I still might." He kisses your neck, slowly, sensually, every part of you feels so sensitive that you shudder from the feel of his lips softly against your throat.
"What a lovely way to go." You quip albeit a little shakily.
"God you are so perfect." He says, punctuating the sentiment by thrusting into you. It catches you by surprise, the feeling of him stretching you, and the moan that falls from your lips is music to Kurt's ears. Kurt groans deeply and swears under his breath as he bottoms out. He rolls his hips, slowly at first, as if he's got all he time in the world with you. It's agonizing. The slow drag of his cock against your inner walls feels so good but his pace- it's not enough.
"God, Kurt! You're even more controlled than usual considering how concerned you were when you got here." You huff out.
"I'm trying not to-"
"Well quit it. You're teasing me." You pout. Kurt's face shifts to something hotter, more intense, something almost dangerous that makes you shiver in the best way. He adjusts slightly, grabs your waist, and rocks into you again. You moan, loud, high, your eyes roll shut making you miss the way Kurt smirks down at you. His pace has changed. He's fucking into you harder, faster, claws digging into your hips. You wrap one hand around his arm, your nails burying into the skin as his hits slam against yours. It's nearly impossible to control the sounds coming from your mouth and each one only makes Kurt go harder, fucking you impossibly deep. He's far from silent though, he swears in German, mutters praises of how he loves you, how good you feel wrapped around him, how beautiful and enchanting you are and between his words are his own sounds of pleasure; sweet groans, pretty whines and deep growls mixing with your own moans. You don't even realize your orgasm building until it crashes into you. Hard, fast, hot, so all consuming that you can barely breathe. Kurt doesn't stop, doesn't slow, doesn't give you a moment of respite, he sounds delirious continuing you to rail you, mumbling how good you are, how he wants you to cum again, how he loves the way you squeeze him. If the feel of him between your legs wasn't overwhelming the way his words practically caress you makes you feel like you're being engulfed in flames. You can feel Kurt slipping, getting lost in his own pleasure, diving into a hedonistic trance taking everything you have to give and still not being satisfied, still taking more. It goes on for hours, he fucks you until you're hoarse from crying out his name, until you've lost track of your orgasms and his but you know the sheets definitely need changing now, until you've marked each other with teeth and nail.
"I love you." He pants out. You barely register the words in your pleasure induced haze and your response comes out as more of a moan than a sentence.
just a little smth that popped into my head… smutty under the cut
kurt is a ladies man, there is no doubt about it but like when he finds the one?? i truly believe that he will devoted to you in a way that will never make you doubt his love for you. kurt wagner in love is a man who has heart eyes for you and only you.
it’s in the way he looks at you, his golden yellow eyes so bright and full of complete adoration when he sees you come into the kitchen to make your morning coffee. “good morning, mien liebling!” he’s hugging you from behind, his furry fingers caressing the soft skin of your tummy, his lips peppering kisses along your neck and cheek. he’s way too cheerful in the morning but you could never be angry at the way he greets you.
oh and that look he gets when he’s watching you try so hard not to be loud as his tongue delves between your slick folds, teasing you like the menace he is, his hands spreading apart your thighs while the spade of his tail is ghosting along your clit, should be downright sinful. he looks like a starved man with those hungry yellow eyes, licking his lips at the feast you are before him.
it’s also in the way he touches you too. we’ve seen that kurt is naturally an affectionate person so once you two started dating? oh there had to be some rules made about your pda. he would always be touching you whether it’d be his hand on the small of your back as you walk through the halls of the mansion, or tucking stray hairs behind your ear so it gives him the excuse to cup your face and give you a small kiss on your lips that quickly turns into you trying to push him away because he can’t get enough of your sweet mouth.
also, speaking of those new rules because your guys pda? yeah, also kurt’s fault. you two were making out everywhere like teenagers discovering tongue kissing for the first time because kurt is so damn addicted and greedy, so greedy, to devour you every chance he gets.
after a little training session in the danger room where you proudly kicked his butt and straddled him in victory, taking his sword, he grabbed the back of your neck with one hand and slammed his lips to yours and used the other to push on your back so you’d fall on top of him. needless to say, scott was not happy walking in to seeing kurt’s hand underneath your shirt, his lips attached to your neck, as you desperately rocked your hips against kurt’s, whimpering for him to take you right then and there. you had to have a chaperone after that incident.
there was also that time in the library where you were really trying to read. what book though you can’t remember but kurt had your back against one of the back bookshelves, pulled your legs around his waist, as he reached between your bodies to slip his fingers inside you. his mouth was swallowing every moan, every whimper, every little sound you made because god, he could not get enough of you. as you neared your climax, riding kurt’s fingers that curled just right, as he murmured sweet praises in German, his voice smooth like velvet, “Du fühlst dich so eng an, so warm…” his forehead pressed against yours, breath against your lips when you hear Hank’s disappointed sigh. “I don’t need to see what’s happening to know you two shouldn’t be doing that in here.” you couldn’t look at him for weeks after that.
heya cutie patooties!! just wanna say a quick thank you for all the love and support over my recent works. i truly cannot express how happy i am reading your comments (also sorry for all the tears 😭). it’s been a difficult year so far so getting back into writing hasn’t been the easiest but you guys have given me tons of motivation and support and i can’t wait for you guys to see what i have in store! 🫶🫶🫶
Scenting with more animalistic, creature-like Kurt Wagner...
Kurt just grabbing you with his freakishly long arms and pressing against himself to rub your face into his neck, all while his curved talons lie point-sharp on your temple. His rumbling purrs rattle your bones, and his soft fur catches on your skin, tickling your nose and cheeks. It's too much too suddenly — you can hardly breathe. But all you do? You simply grab onto his shoulders for some sense of leverage as he basically forces his scent onto you as if you were his favourite toy.
Kurt lingering close after a workout, sweat clinging to his chest hair in trembling droplets as he talks and talks your ear off about something you cannot focus on. Your head is starting to get dizzy from the sheer heaviness of his built-up musk, and he catches the moment your eyes glaze over. He doesn't let you slip away, though, holding you firmly in place with his tail around your wrist — well aware you're getting all nice and wet for him already.
Kurt not allowing you to hit the showers before bed after a day filled with intense fighting, because how can he let it all go to waste like that? You still struggle a little when he grips your waist, still try to shove him away when he nuzzles his face into your armpit, but it's reflexive more than anything. Just the remnants of shame flickering like disturbed embers before dying out again. His breath is hot against your skin, but his tongue is even hotter, and whether you've shaved or not, his fervour doesn't falter. He'll get as much of you on his fur as he can.
Kurt secretly humping your bedsheets. Your blankets and towels. Your clean underwear. And before you think him a pervert — he's not doing it for release or some sick pleasure; he's not doing it for himself at all, really, but for you. He'd never intentionally soil your things without your knowledge, but soaking them in the concentrated smell of his desire? That, my lovely, is a very different story. He wants you to smell like him; wants you to wear brine and brimstone like perfume between your thighs; wants this essence of his to intermingle with yours and overpower it, all while you have no idea, for you're already so used to smelling him every single day.
More animalistic, creature-like Kurt exchanging scents with you because you're his mate and he loves you so much you awaken the most basic of his instincts without even trying.
a/n: like most first chapters, this one is very lore heavy but just lemme cook, i promise it’ll be worth it. i know people prefer x reader content but belle is an oc i hold very near and dear to my heart so i hope you love her as much as i do! ♫ cross-posted to ao3
Early Spring
At only ten years old, Isabelle di Verano was enrolled in several extracurricular activities outside of attending the most prestigious elementary school New York had to offer.
The first, which was always after school in the Performing Arts Center on Mondays and Wednesdays, was ballet.
Belle always admired the view before being escorted inside—the enormous fountain that sits in front of the steps (during different holidays, it would change colors, like red, white, and blue for the Fourth of July, or red and green for Christmas), and the towering yet ever-shiny glass arched windows that gave you a perfect view of the crystal chandelier inside.
She's right on time as she strolls inside the dance studio. The room used to intimidate her when she first started. The twenty-foot-tall mirrors stretched to the ceiling, seeming to watch her every move. Now, after two and a half years of practicing, she can look into the mirror with pride.
In her class are three more girls and one boy, all around Belle's age. One of the girls, Priya, attends the same school as her, while the others attend different private academies. Priya is nice but doesn't talk much, which doesn't bother Belle.
Her father, Alessandro, and Priya's father, Ivan, are investors in the same realty company that is quickly taking over the state. Belle isn't sure why that's so important, but is happy to see a familiar face whenever she is forced to attend that company's fancy events with her parents.
Edwina and Cordelia, the other girls, are twins, and they are very energetic, to say the least. Anytime their instructor, Mrs. Harmony, gives them a command, Edwina exaggerates the move, while Cordelia acts like a gremlin on sugar and makes too much noise. They annoy Belle.
Vincent, the youngest and only boy in the class, is someone Belle cannot stand. She used to say she hated him until her nanny, Sachiko, would flick her cheek with a disapproving look and say, "Hate is a very strong word, Belle. We can say we dislike or do not tolerate someone, but never hate. Understand?" Belle begrudgingly pinky-promised to never say it again.
Belle very strongly disliked Vincent Carmichael. He was always playing games on his phone, never listening to Mrs. Harmony unless she threatened to call his father, or complained when class went on for too long. He complained about everything really; the stretches, learning to pointe your feet, the classical music. She wasn't sure why he was there, but she hoped he wouldn't be there much longer.
The Carmichael family only recently came into wealth, something about merging with Oscorp Industries. Whatever they did, Belle's parents and the other adults whispered about them when they attended the Carmichaels' first charity gala. Belle didn't understand what they meant, but if her parents didn't like them, neither did she.
"Good afternoon, Miss Isabelle." Mrs. Harmony greeted her, her usual stern face only breaking for a brief moment to give Belle a small smile. Her instructor rarely ever showed emotion in class, but Belle noticed she would often smile at her.
Mrs. Harmony and ballet demanded perfection, and that was the only word Belle knew.
Being perfect was something that was instilled in Belle from the moment she was born. Her posture must be correct, her grades must be the highest in the class, her conversation skills must be mature yet appropriate for her age.
Her parents were the definition of perfect. Her father always seemed like the most important man in every room he entered, while her mother, Mina, moved with the effortless grace of someone who had once won Olympic gold (which she did; Belle loved to brag about it). Belle couldn't imagine either of them ever making a mistake.
Her father's suits were always pressed, his presence commanding every gaze in the room as soon as he stepped in, and his voice did the same. Her mother's black hair was always beautifully styled, her makeup dazzling, and her smile always made anyone talk with her for far too long. Whenever they smiled at her in public, Belle stood a little straighter, hoping she'd done everything right.
Perfection wasn't something they talked about. It was simply expected.
Belle returned the smile to her teacher. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Harmony. Are we continuing with barre work today?"
"Indeed. We will begin shortly."
Belle laced up her slippers with ease and joined the other students practicing their stretches. Priya gave Belle a small wave, and she returned it. Edwina and Cordelia were having a contest of who could touch their toes the most times while Vincent lay on his back, fingers tapping away on his phone screen.
Belle sighed through her nose. Why did he even join these ballet lessons?
The opening notes of Toshifumi Hinata's "Reflection" (she knew the name by heart since it was the first piece she ever learned on the piano) drifted from the speakers. Belle instinctively straightened her spine. Mrs. Harmony always said that if she heard the first four notes before fixing her posture, she was already behind.
Belle always chose the spot directly in front of the mirror. Mrs. Harmony had once told her that the strongest dancers belonged there, and Belle intended to keep it that way.
The next hour breezed by, and Belle was in her element. Not even Mrs. Harmony scolding the twins or Vincent brought Belle out of her zone. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to get lost in the beautiful music that echoed in the room. She let each note guide her, losing herself in the familiar rhythm of pliés, tendus, and graceful turns. Sometimes, it would feel like she was floating against the hardwood floors with every step.
Mrs. Harmony always chose the same music from The Nutcracker or Swan Lake or classical versions of Disney songs for class. Belle had heard the pieces so many times she could tell where they were in the lesson without looking at the clock. When "Waltz of the Flowers" filled the studio, she knew class was almost over.
Once class was dismissed, Vincent rushed out of the room after hastily ripping off his ballet slippers, the twins following after, saying goodbye to Mrs. Harmony in perfect unison. Belle and Priya took the time to slowly unlace their slippers, and just as Belle was going to leave with Priya, Mrs. Harmony cleared her throat. Both of the girls turned as Mrs. Harmony joined them by the door.
Belle's stomach tightened. Had she forgotten to bow? Had she pointed her toes wrong?
"Wait just a moment, Miss Isabelle," Belle's instructor said, then glanced at Priya. "You may leave, Miss Priya."
Belle noticed Priya's smile falter and offered her a small, apologetic one in return. "See you tomorrow, Isabelle," Priya said, her eyes cast to the ground as her butler took her pink sparkly backpack from her.
"See you," Belle replied softly as she watched them disappear down the hallway. She turned to Mrs. Harmony, clutching the straps of her ballet bag tightly. "Yes, ma'am?"
The corner of Mrs. Harmony's lips turned, her smile reaching her brown eyes as she handed Belle a pamphlet. "Isabelle, my dear, you have an extraordinary gift. I've taught many students over the years, but it's rare to meet someone who learns as quickly and dances with as much heart as you do." Before Belle could look at the paper, Mrs. Harmony placed both hands on Belle's shoulders, leaning down so they were eye-level. "I am so proud of you. You have accomplished so much in such a short time, and I see nothing but brightness in your future. I would love for you to be our Alice in this year's Wonderland."
Belle opens the pamphlet and sees in bold cursive, Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts Proudly Presents Wonderland, with the date being September 1st. There are pictures from the last time they did the performance, long before Belle started taking classes.
She focuses on the picture of the girl playing Alice with the name Danika Patel (that was Priya's last name; maybe that was her sister?)—she looks a little older than Belle, wearing a blonde wig, a large blue bow, and a knee-length, puffed-sleeve, flowy blue dress, doing an arabesque. She looks so pretty.
That would be her. Standing beneath the lights while people watched her, including older dancers. She wouldn't be the youngest girl on the stage who needed help keeping up. She would be Alice.
Belle studied the photograph. Danika Patel looked graceful and effortless, and Belle wondered how long she had practiced that arabesque. Whatever the answer was, she would practice longer.
Belle smiled brightly. "I accept."
As soon as Belle stepped outside towards her parents' familiar all-black Bentley, her nanny, Sachiko, stood by the door, her warm smile reaching her eyes.
"Sachiko!" Belle bounced towards her as if the ground was a trampoline, waving the pamphlet excitedly. "Mrs. Harmony wants me to be Alice!"
The older Japanese woman gasped, accepting the paper. "Oh my... this is wonderful!" Belle threw her arms around Sachiko's waist and squeezed.
She could always count on her nanny for, well, everything. School supply and uniform shopping, Sachiko was there, making sure she had enough room in her shoes for her toes to wiggle. Ballet and gymnastic lessons, Sachiko was there to pick her up, always on time, along with the family's chauffeur Edward, no matter the traffic in New York. After piano lessons, she would always have her favorite snacks (Sachiko's homemade s'mores granola bars and Doritos) ready. Every meal was always prepared with love--even Belle's school lunches; her fruits were cut into cute shapes, and her sandwiches always had the crusts cut off.
Every memory Belle could think back to, Sachiko was there. If Belle was ever upset, Sachiko was there with tissues, softly stroking her hair, telling her to breathe. If Belle ever struggled with homework (especially her Italian or Japanese tutoring work), Sachiko would sit beside her, helping her see the small things Belle was overlooking and check her work for any errors. Sometimes that would annoy Belle's parents for some reason, but Sachiko would still help, no matter what.
"This is wonderful news, my dear. I am so proud of you. We must celebrate." Sachiko smoothed back Belle's hair before kissing her head.
Belle pulled back, grinning widely, her heart full of joy. "Does that mean we can order pizza for dinner? You think Mom and Dad will eat with me?"
Sachiko smiled again, but this time Belle noticed it was not as bright as before. Maybe she was tired? Belle hoped she was getting enough sleep, something Sachiko always made sure Belle got.
"Well, they are very busy." Belle's face fell before Sachiko pinched her cheek. "But who can resist a pepperoni pizza from Joe's?"
"Uh, no one, duh!" Belle answered, hope filling her chest. Tonight, they would be home, sit and have dinner, and tell me how proud they are, I know it!
The di Verano estate in Manhattan was one of many houses her parents owned. Her mother insisted on living here this year instead of the other home in Brooklyn or Long Island. Belle didn't mind, though. Her room here had a beautiful view of Central Park.
Belle looked up at the five-story building, hoping to see her dad's study light on, or even her mother's office window open, but there was nothing. Maybe they were already waiting at the door for her? She clutched the ballet pamphlet close to her chest just in case they were.
Sachiko, with two large pizza boxes in hand, opened the door for Belle with her other hand, urging her inside. "Looks like it's going to storm soon, my dear. I don't think we can go on our daily walk today."
Belle didn't mean to ignore her as she rushed inside, slipping off her Mary Janes. "Mom? Dad? Are you home?" she hurriedly called out up the stairs when she noticed no one waiting at the entrance.
She waited for a response with her head perched on the marble stair railing. After a few long moments of silence, Belle's heart dropped, and her body felt extremely heavy. They weren't home again.
"Belle," Sachiko murmured, touching Belle's face. "The pizza is going to get cold, my dear." The heaviness seemed to ease beneath her nanny's touch. The world felt a little lighter.
Belle stared toward the front doors, still hoping to hear the familiar click of her mother's heels or the heavy sound of her father's boots against the hardwood floor. Maybe they would appear at any moment, smiling and apologizing for being late. Maybe her father would ask to see the pamphlet. Maybe her mother would tell her how beautiful she would look dancing as Alice.
Instead, the house remained silent, and Belle's shoulders slumped.
"Oh, my Belle." Sachiko set the pizzas on a nearby mahogany end table before kneeling beside her and pulling her into a tight hug.
Belle clung to her nanny, burying her face against her shoulder as she fought desperately to hold back her tears.
Sachiko pulled away first and gently wiped the stray tears from beneath Belle's eyes. "I am sure they will be home soon, and you can tell them all about being Alice."
"Really?" Belle sniffled. "Will you wake me up if they get home late?"
"Of course."
That night, Belle sat beside Sachiko, watching soap operas and eating pepperoni pizza. Every so often, her eyes drifted toward the window. She waited patiently for her father's Porsche or her mother's Mercedes to pull into the driveway.
In her head, she practiced what she was going to say almost a million times. Mom, Dad, guess what? Mrs. Harmony chose me to be Alice!
She imagined their faces. Her father's proud smile. Her mother's delighted gasp. Maybe they would even hug her. She can't remember the last time they really hugged her when it wasn't at a fancy party or charity event. She practiced it again. And again.
On the millionth and one time, Belle finally fell asleep against the window as the grandfather clock struck twelve.
The second, which was always held on Tuesdays at home, was piano.
While Mrs. Harmony was strict, she never yelled or cursed under her breath at Belle, unlike her piano tutor, Ms. Corvino.
Ms. Corvino was an old, wrinkly Italian woman who taught her father when he was Belle's age. Sachiko taught Belle never to judge others by how they look, but Ms. Corvino had a very mean face. She looked like she was constantly sucking on a super sour candy.
Belle knew it wasn't nice to think that about someone, but she thought it anyway.
It was another rainy day at the di Verano estate as Belle's fingers trailed along the porcelain keys. Today's lesson was continuing to learn how to play Ludovico Einaudi's "Nuvole Bianche."
While Belle got lost in the movements of ballet, she felt like she was transported into another world entirely with the piano.
The rain tapped softly against the tall windows, almost keeping time with the melody. Belle barely noticed it. She closed her eyes as her fingers moved across the keys, following the notes she had practiced over and over again.
For those few minutes, there was no one else in the room but her and the piano. All of her worries, expectations, even Ms. Corvino's narrowed and judging eyes, were swept away with the soft melody that echoed in the drawing room.
Once Belle finished, she opened her eyes to see Ms. Corvino glaring at her with crossed arms. When she sucked her teeth in disdain, Belle could see a cherry-red lipstick stain on her teeth and had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from giggling. Any kind of emotion in front of Ms. Corvino was a no-go, for some reason.
"You played it too fast, far too fast." Ms. Corvino said sharply with a shake of her head. "Run it again, idiota."
This was the tenth time Belle had played the piece, each time slowing down as her teacher wanted, but this time, she knew she had gotten it right. And she was getting tired of being insulted.
Belle lifted her chin and met the older's woman's gray eyes. "I did it just how you wanted."
"No, no, no!" Ms. Corvino's nostrils flared as her voice rose. "If you did just how I wanted, it would have been exceptional, and we would not be wasting our time on this pointless conversation."
"It. Was. Perfect." Belle gritted her teeth as the wooden bench creaked beneath her.
Her tutor inched closer to Belle's face, close enough that she could smell cigarette smoke on her white blouse. "Run it again, Isabelle." She hated the way Ms. Corvino said her name. "I will not repeat myself."
Belle's fingers curled against her skirt as the music sheet fell into her lap. She didn't remember opening the window, so it was probably just the air conditioning.
Without bothering to place the music back on the stand, Belle played the piece again. Her fingers pounded against the keys, each note sharper and louder than the last. She didn't bother looking at the sheet music anymore. She knew the piece by heart. And this time, she was going to play it perfectly.
Once her finger lifted from the final key, she waited for her tutor's critiques as the thunder rumbled outside. Ms. Corvino was deathly silent, her long fingernails drumming against the piano painfully slow.
"Well, Ms. Corvino?" Belle questioned, exasperated. "Exceptional enough for you?"
Ms. Corvino stared at her for several seconds before letting out a bitter laugh. "Exceptional?" she repeated. "You are a piccola mocciosa, Isabelle."
Belle's eyes widened. Spoiled brat. "Excuse me?"
"Your father was never like this." Ms. Corvino shook her head, her lips curling into a scowl. "He listened and worked incredibly hard. And unlike you, he respected his teacher."
Belle's cheeks burned. "I did exactly what you told me to do-"
"And yet you still have that attitude!" The older woman snapped. "You think because your parents have money and you attend your little fancy school, you are better than everyone else."
"I never said that."
"You don't have to." She waved a dismissive hand. "It is written all over your face."
Belle's fists clenched. "I'm not spoiled."
Ms. Corvino scoffed. "No? Then perhaps you should learn some humility. You are not your father, Isabelle di Verano, not even close. He practiced until he got it right, even when I told him to play something a hundred times."
Her words stung. "I played it perfectly, and you know it."
"Perfect?" Her teacher let out a humorless laugh. "You have yet to prove it."
As soon as the tutoring session was up, Sachiko escorted Ms. Corvino out of the house, and Belle slumped against the keys with a loud clang.
You are not your father, Isabelle di Verano.
Belle swallowed the lump in her throat. She picked up the music sheet that fell beneath the bench and carefully set it back onto the stand. Belle adjusted her posture and took a deep breath, and began to play the music once again, pushing back the tears that threatened to fall.
The third was gymnastics, which was held on Fridays and sometimes Saturdays at NYC Elite Gym.
Her gymnastics coaches were Mr. and Mrs. Sloane, a husband-and-wife team who somehow made every lesson feel like play.
Although Belle was only ten, her flexibility and coordination from ballet had earned her a place in a group with children a few years older than her. Most of them were twelve or thirteen.
The gym was slightly larger than the ballet studio, but with the equipment, mats, balance beams, uneven bars, and kids scattered everywhere, it somehow felt much smaller.
"Warm-up time, kiddos!" Mrs. Sloane called, turning on the radio to play today's hit. Her bright pink ponytail bounced as she started doing jumping jacks. "Let's get those muscles warmed up! Ten to start. Ready?"
Belle tightened the laces on her blue tennis shoes and followed along.
Mr. Sloane came up behind his wife and began making ridiculous faces at the kids while doing his jumping jacks. Belle giggled as Mrs. Sloane glanced over her shoulder. "Don't encourage him, my pupils." Mr. Sloane immediately made an even sillier face, and Belle giggled harder.
They continued their warm-up, doing some simple stretches, Mr. Sloane continuing to make her and other older girls laugh while others rolled their eyes. Belle laughed every time, though, and she couldn't remember the last time she laughed so much... probably at last week's lessons.
The only problem that she has with gymnastics is that she hates to leave. The lessons can last an hour or two, but Belle wishes they lasted even longer.
Today, Belle's group was learning how to vault again. They've been practicing it the past few weeks, and Belle only tried a handful of times, deciding to watch the older girls instead.
As Belle practiced her tumbles and handstands, she was watching each girl carefully sprint down the runway, plant their hands against the vaulting table, and flip cleanly onto the mat. She hadn't been able to do that yet, and something told her to give it another try.
"Can I try?" Belle asks, looking up at her coach.
Mrs. Sloane smiled, making a motion with her hands for the older girls to move aside. "Of course, Isabelle. But remember what we talked about and don't rush the rotation. Let gravity do its thing."
Belle nodded and took a deep breath, backing up to the starting line. Her heart fluttered with a mix of fear and excitement, but she didn't let it stop her movements.
She ran, keeping her feet in a straight line, then planted her hands against the vault and pushed. Her body lifted into the air, knees tucking toward her chest as she began to rotate.
For that one second she was in the air, she felt completely weightless before her knees hit the mat. "Oof." She quickly climbed back to her feet as a couple of the older girls in her group snickered. Mrs. Sloane cleared her throat and shot the girls a warning look, and they stopped, but Belle could still feel their judgmental eyes watching her.
"You were so close." Mrs. Sloane said, patting Belle on the shoulder. "But you opened up too early."
Belle looked back at the vault as another girl flipped so gracefully in the air and landed onto her feet in a lunge. "Could I go again?"
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
This time, when Belle returns to the start line, she pictures what she did wrong in her last attempt and knows what she needs to do differently.
She takes off into a sprint, jumps, and pushes herself off the vault again, and spins, closing her eyes. She lands on her feet this time but stumbles forward, catching herself on her hands.
Mrs. Sloane gives her a thumbs up. "That was better!" But to Belle, it wasn't good enough.
Each time, Belle waits her turn and tries again. Each attempt was a little different. Sometimes she opened her body too soon, or she didn't rotate enough, or she would land sideways and roll onto the mat. But Belle refused to stop.
She had tried so many times that she was one of the last few kids still inside the gym. Mr. Sloane mentioned to Belle several times that her nanny was patiently waiting outside, but she insisted just one more time.
"Isabelle, this has to be the last try, okay?" Mrs. Sloane pointed to her watch. "We really need to close up and get home."
"'sides, aren't you hungry?" Mr. Sloane asked, rubbing his stomach. "I know I am."
Her coach rolls her eyes. "When are you not?"
"Ouch, hurts, babe."
Belle ignores them as she backs up one more time. She rolled her shoulders and took a deep breath before she took off. Her heartbring rang in her eyes as her feet struck the springboard and she launched herself upward.
Her hands touched the vault, and she pushed. Her body curled into the flip as its done so many times before. For a moment, everything slowed, and she felt weightless again. This time it felt different, but she didn't know why. It was like she had way more time before her feet hit the mat.
She tucked her body tighter and twisted before the floor rushed toward her. She quickly stretched her legs out as her feet touched the ground softer than they ever did in the last several attempts. Belle stood incredibly still until she heard the cheers from Mr. and Mrs. Sloane and Sachiko. Belle didn't even see her come in.
"Look at you!" Mr. Sloane grinned as he clapped, and Mrs. Sloane praised, "Great job, kiddo!"
Sachiko beamed, her eyes shining. "That's my girl! I knew you could do it."
Belle bounced on the balls of her feet, barely containing her excitement, as her face lit up. "I did it! I really did it!"
She looked back toward the vault, still trying to understand what had happened. For just a second, she could have sworn she'd stopped falling, but that was silly and surely impossible.
Belle launched herself into Sachiko's arms. "I didn't stop until I stuck the landing. I kept persevering, like you taught me!"
Her nanny wiped the sweat from Belle's forehead with a wet cloth. "I am very proud of you, my dear. Very proud." Belle's heart soared at her words. "Now, I've got a surprise for you."
"Really? What is it?"
Sachiko giggled at her enthusiasm. "Let's get you cleaned up first, and we'll head straight there, okay?"
Belle's eyes widened. "Oo! We're going somewhere! Where is it? Where is it?"
Belle stopped in her tracks, taking in the colorful lights, loud carnival games, children running from one attraction to another, and music spilling from the different tents surrounding her.
The sugary-sweet smell of cotton candy mixed with the mouthwatering scent of fried food, making her stomach grumble. There was a carousel, a Ferris wheel, bumper cars, horse racing, and even a circus act scheduled to perform later that evening.
To say Belle was in awe was an understatement.
People dressed as animals and different characters wandered through the crowds. Performers balanced on stilts while blowing fire or juggling swords, while carnival workers called out to passersby, tempting them to play games for fluffy stuffed animals and flashy toy swords.
Belle's mouth fell open. "Wow!" She turned in a slow circle, trying to decide what she wanted to do first or even what she wanted to eat. There were so many choices, and she wanted to try everything. "This is so awesome!"
Sachiko wrapped her arm around Belle's shoulders. "Where do you want to start first, my dear?"
Belle's eyes landed on the bumper cars first, and she began tugging her nanny's arm with her hurriedly. "This one!"
Her nanny laughed. "Belle, slow down!"
One by one, Belle tried everything--the carousel, balloon darts, ring toss, the Ferris wheel, the Zipper, and then all of the food like cotton candy, funnel cake, corn dogs, and so many deep-fried Oreos. Belle might've had a terribly bad sweet tooth, but what kid didn't?
Sachiko forced Belle to drink water in between all the fried and sugary foods. "Do you have to go to the bathroom?"
"Nu-uh," Belle answers with a mouthful of popcorn, and her nanny shakes her head with a smile.
"Well, I'll be right back. Stay right here, my dear." Sachiko points to the bench they were sitting at, right outside the circus tent, giving Belle a serious look. "Capiche?"
Belle gives a mock salute and takes a sip of her strawberry lemonade instead of the water Sachiko pushed toward her. "Yes, ma'am!"
As soon as Sachiko disappeared into the crowd of people, Belle couldn't help but admire everything. Here she didn't have any expectations to meet or people to please. A part of her did wonder if her parents wanted to come along with her and Sachiko.
She felt like she barely saw them over the past month. They were always working, but she saw their pictures in the news, the headlines talking about their success and blah, blah, blah. She wished they were there.
Belle threw away her empty popcorn container as she continued sipping her lemonade, staring at the circus tent before her. A large painted sign outside the tent read:
TONIGHT! MAX GETMANN'S TRAVELING MENAGERIE'S AMERICAN DEBUT,
The acrobatics piqued Belle's interest as she checked the time of the first show: 8:00. Thankfully, it just turned 7 o'clock, meaning she had time before the show started, and it was something she didn't want to miss.
Crash!
Belle jumped at the sound within the tent as she lowered her lemonade and stared at the entrance. Another crash followed, accompanied by the faint sound of something rolling across the floor.
Belle glanced over her shoulder, waiting for Sachiko to appear. She knew she should wait for her nanny, but curiosity tugged at Belle. Just one look couldn't hurt, right?
Slowly, she carefully pulled back the tent flap and peered inside. It was dark, much darker than she expected.
The sounds of the fair disappeared behind her as she stepped through the opening. Her eyes slowly adjusted, revealing rows of empty seats towering above her on either side.
"Hello?" She called out as she took another cautious step towards the center of the enormous tent, where a single spotlight illuminated a large circular platform.
She quietly crept between the rows of seats, clutching her lemonade with both hands as she made her way toward the light when she heard a voice sigh out, "Nochmal… Ich kann das." It wasn't an adult speaking, but a young boy, and Belle didn't understand the language he was speaking.
She froze as she watched a figure sprint across a platform before he planted both hands against a low padded block and launched himself upward. For a split second, Belle’s brain registered it like a vault, but this was way different.
The boy flipped several times in the air, then twisted sideways before landing perfectly on his feet. Belle's eyes widened in shock, her mouth hung open in awe. She had never seen anything like that!
He didn't stop as he sprinted to several hanging hoops in the air and jumped up, catching them with ease and using the momentum to carry himself higher into the air. He swung himself higher and caught the next one just as easily as the first.
Belle's eyes followed his every movement as she found herself moving closer to watch the boy. She had only been in gymnastics for a little over two years, but she recognized the speed and strength he had. His movements were so fluid that it almost looked like he wasn't affected by gravity at all.
She leaned forward as he reached the final hoop before releasing it, then tucked his knees to his chest and spun several times before extending his arms and legs, slowing his rotation just enough to land on the platform in a perfect crouch.
Wow.
The boy stood there for a moment, breathing heavily as Belle stared at him. That's when she realized something strange about him as she took another step closer. His whole body was blue, aside from the black and red costume he donned.
Blue skin covered his arms, his face, even the tips of his pointed ears, and when his eyes caught the light, they were bright yellow, like a highlighter, and there was something behind him that moved. Something with a pointed end... was that a tail?
He turned slightly, and when he noticed her, he froze.
Their eyes met, and they stared at each other for what seemed like a very long time.
Belle wondered if what he had on was a costume and makeup, but it looked extremely realistic. She heard about people who looked different like him, filthy mutants her parents would call them, but not Sachiko. "They're people like you and me." Her nanny would point out if there was a news article about the rise in people with mutations or weird powers that made them a threat to the nation. "Treat them like you would treat everyone else."
This boy didn't look like a danger to anyone. In fact, she was sure he was her age, maybe a few years older since he was a couple of inches taller than her. Belle wasn't bothered by his appearance--she was more focused on the performance he just did.
"That was so cool." Belle breathed with a smile.
"...cool?" The boy repeated as if it was the first time he'd ever heard it.
She nods. "Yes, cool!"
He tilts his head as his tail curls behind him. "Du... think so?" Awesome, he speaks some English!
Belle's smile widens. "I know so." She holds out her hand, and he flinches, immediately crouching low, his shoulders tensing as he pulls away from her.
She pulls her hand back instantly, blurting, "I'm sorry, I wasn't- I'm not going to hurt you."
The boy didn't move as he studied her. Belle's stomach twisted. She hadn't meant to scare him.
After a few quiet seconds, the boy slowly straightened. His eyes remained fixed on her as if he were trying to decide whether he could trust her.
Belle stayed where she was, and she didn't reach for him again, as she offered a small smile. "My name is Isabelle, but you can call me Belle."
He swallowed as he took a small step towards her, his yellow eyes scanning her from head to toe. "Kurt."
"Kurt," Belle repeated his name, making sure she pronounced it right.
"Belle." Kurt did the same with her name as his tail flicked behind him.
"That's right." She grinned as she looked up at the platforms and hoops. "Are you the one performing tonight? Nightcrawler?"
Kurt nods. "Ja."
Her eyes lit up as she clasped her hands together excitedly. "Can you show me how you did that flip?" He raises his eyebrow. "I do gymnastics, see?"
She takes a few steps back so as not to scare him, setting down her cup, as she does a cartwheel that turns into a handstand, her long braid touching the ground. She held herself there for a few seconds before lowering her legs and landing neatly on her feet.
"Ta-da!" She smiled proudly with a dramatic bow.
He blinked as his mouth fell slightly open. "Du... gymnastics?" He said the word very slowly, his accent thick, but Belle understood what he was trying to say.
"Yup! I've been doing it for two years now."
"Das war gut."
Now it was Belle's turn to tilt her head in confusion. "Uh... what does that mean?"
Kurt pointed to where she demonstrated her handstand, then back to Belle. "You... you are good."
Belle beamed. "Thank you. Where are you from?"
"Germany." Oh, that makes sense now. Belle knew the language sounded kind of familiar, but she couldn't place it. She wished she were learning it instead of Japanese or Italian (her parents' wishes, of course) so she could talk to Kurt properly.
This must mean this is his first time here in America, because of the circus. She remembered the sign did say that this was the Nightcrawler’s American debut.
"Are you..." Kurt searched for the words. "Live here?"
"Sure do. I was born and raised right here in New York City."
"Cool." He says the word with a little more confidence this time, and it makes Belle feel warm.
"This is my first time seeing the circus, though," Belle admits, looking around the tent. "Do you go to school?"
Kurt makes a so-so motion with his hand. "Sometimes."
"I know it must be tough trying to do homework and practice for something like this." While she didn't perform in any shows, trying to keep her perfect academics and extracurriculars, alongside her tutoring, was tiring, to say the least.
She glanced back at him. "Do you like it?"
Kurt's expression brightened. "Ja. I love circus."
Belle smiled. "Me too." She watched the strange appendage swaying behind him, and unable to contain her curiosity any longer, she pointed toward it. "Is that real?"
Kurt glanced over his shoulder at his tail and nodded. "Ja."
"Does it help you... like, keep your balance?"
Kurt's tail curled upward, and the look he gave her almost seemed mischievous. "Sometimes."
Belle's eyes lit up. "Can you show me?"
For what seemed like hours, she and Kurt showed off their skills to each other. His movements were fluid, like he had been practicing for years, and he proved that, yes, his tail really did help him keep his balance. For the first time since she had stepped inside the tent, Kurt's shoulders seemed to relax, even when Belle stood closer than she did before.
Belle watched as Kurt's tail curled around one of the platform's supporting poles, and he leaned back until he was practically hanging upside down. He grinned widely, showing off his teeth, and she noticed the sharp canines, vastly different from hers.
"Okay, that's cheating," Belle said, laughing.
"Nein. Is not cheating."
"It absolutely is."
He swung himself forward, releasing the pole and landing lightly on his feet. "See?"
Belle crossed her arms. "Show-off."
Kurt's grin only grew wider. "Maybe."
There was something almost contagious about his excitement. Every time he demonstrated something new, his entire face lit up, and Belle found herself wanting to see what he could do next.
It was strange how easy it was to talk with him. Sure, she had friends at school, but she didn't really hang out of them outside it. With Kurt, it felt different. Despite the language barrier and only having known him for all of thirty minutes, she couldn't remember the last time she had so much fun.
Belle thought back to all those nasty news articles about mutants, hate campaigns that show them as devils in disguise and stains on humanity, and even her own parents spitting on anything to do with mutants. Kurt was none of those things whatsoever. She hoped that people didn't treat him as badly as those she saw on the news.
"Okay, my turn." She stepped toward one of the padded blocks and placed her hands on it. "Can you do this?"
Before Kurt could answer, Belle launched herself into a series of cartwheels, finishing with a roundoff that sent her tumbling backward onto the mat. It was a little more difficult to do now that she was wearing denim overalls and pink sneakers rather than her gymnastics uniform, but like always, gravity was on her side.
Kurt's eyes widened, his tail freezing in shock for a moment, just like his expression. "Whoa."
Belle popped back onto her feet with a proud smile. "I've been practicing."
"That was very good."
"Really?"
"Ja."
She beamed. "Maybe someday I could learn how to do all the stuff you do."
Belle wasn't entirely sure what she wanted to do in life yet. Her father ran an important business that had been passed down through generations, while her mother ran a successful fashion design brand that was endorsed by tons of celebrities.
But Belle didn't want to do any of those things. Now that she thought about it, maybe she could join the circus alongside Kurt, and they could perform as a dynamic duo!
Kurt's expression softened. "You want to?"
"Of course!" Belle looked toward the trapezes and hoops hanging above them. "I've never seen anything like this before-"
"Isabelle? Oh, my dear, where are you?" The call of Sachiko's concerned voice outside the tent made Belle stop dead in her tracks.
Oh, no. She had completely forgotten about her nanny.
Belle turned to Kurt, who had his head tilted in confusion. "I'm sorry, I've gotta go. I'll be back to watch your show, though, promise!"
His yellow eyes lit up. "You will?"
"Pinky promise!" Belle holds up her pinky to Kurt, and he looks at her, unsure of what to do. She slowly reaches for his hand, keeping eye contact, and holds up his palm.
She tries to mask her surprise at him only having three fingers instead of her five. They were a little larger than hers, but she pushed away her judgmental thoughts that weren't true. Just because he looked different doesn't make him different.
Belle wrapped her pinky around his end finger, and when his finger curled around hers, she smiled. "This is a pinky promise, and it can never ever be broken."
"Never ever?" He repeated, and she nodded.
"Belle? Are you in here?" Sachiko's voice was closer now, and Belle's eyes widened.
She dropped Kurt's hand and began backing away towards the way she came. "Good luck, Kurt! I'll be in the front row."
His tail flicked happily behind him. "Front row."
Belle wasn't sure what came over her, but she found herself rushing back to Kurt and throwing her arms around his neck, pulling him into a big hug. Kurt froze for a moment before wrapping his arms around her tentatively.
"Thank you, Kurt." She murmured sincerely, and she squeezed him as tightly as she could. "Don't let anyone tell you that you're not wonderful."
"Danke schön, Belle." His voice was so low she almost didn't hear it.
When she pulled away, she gave him another bright smile and waved, which he happily returned, before darting towards the back entrance she came through. She looked back over her shoulder and waved again when she saw he was still standing there. She slipped through the tent flap just as Sachiko rounded the corner.
"There you are!" Her nanny's worried expression quickly turned into one of relief before narrowing into a familiar look of disapproval. "Isabelle Bianca di Verano." Belle cringed at the stern tone and at hearing her full name.
Belle smiled sheepishly. "Hi."
Sachiko placed a hand over her heart. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? I-I looked all over this bloody place at least three times, a-and I thought-" She took a deep breath as Belle stepped into her arms. "My dear, I thought something terrible happened to you."
"I'm sorry." Belle frowned, guilt wallowing in her chest. She really didn't mean to lose track of time or have Sachiko worry as much as she did.
Her nanny pulled back as she adjusted Belle's braid, which was seconds away from coming out of its pink scrunchie. "Where were you?"
Belle looked behind her at the tent, then back to Sachiko. "I made a friend."
"A friend?"
Belle nodded enthusiastically. "His name is Kurt, and he's from Germany, and he's going to perform tonight, and he's really, really good at gymnastics. Maybe even better than me."
Sachiko raised her eyebrow. "Never have I ever heard you admit that, my dear. I must met this Kurt."
"You will when we go see the show." Belle grins, already pulling her nanny towards the entrance where people were beginning to line up.
"Belle, it is late." Sachiko stopped as she looked down at her watch. "I think we really must head home."
"No!" Belle's eyes widened. "We can't! I made him a pinky promise that I would be there. Front row!"
Her nanny's eyes softened as her shoulders slumped. "Belle..."
"Pretty, pretty, pretty please? I'll never ask for anything ever again, swear."
"Somehow I doubt that, but," Sachiko glanced down at the tent's entrance, then to the gates of the fair, and back to Belle, "I don't think I can allow you to break a vow as important as a pinky promise."
Belle felt as if she could jump ten feet in the air with sheer happiness. "Yay! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
Her nanny kissed the top of her head. "Of course, my dear. Now, let's make sure we get a good seat, shall we?"
Belle nodded eagerly and grabbed Sachiko's hand, practically dragging her toward the entrance. The line had already begun forming outside the tent, with families chatting excitedly as they waited to get inside. Belle couldn't stop bouncing on her toes. The ground felt much lighter than it did before, and she was sure she could float in excitement if she tried hard enough.
After a little while of waiting, they handed over their tickets and stepped inside, where the warm glow of dozens of hanging lanterns illuminated the enormous circus tent. Belle didn't realize just how large it was when all of the lights were off. The smell of sawdust filled the air, mixed with popcorn and the faint scent of smoke from the torches positioned around the ring.
Belle politely pushed past people, tugging Sachiko behind her, as they found the last two open seats in the front row, facing the center stage.
Belle practically bounced into her seat, her eyes darting around the enormous tent. "This is perfect!"
Sachiko sat beside her, adjusting the skirt of her dress as she settled in. "Are you certain you can sit still for the entire show?"
"Yes." Belle paused as she thought about it for a moment. "...Probably." Sachiko laughed and pinched Belle's cheek.
Belle leaned forward, resting her hands against the edge of her seat as she watched the tent begin to fill up with more and more people. The number of people reminded her of one of her parents' fancy galas or business dinners, but here she didn't have to act like the perfect version of herself to make her parents proud. She could simply just be herself.
The lights dimmed, and Belle couldn't hold back her gasp as a spotlight appeared in the center of the ring. A man in a bright red tailcoat stepped into it, holding a microphone. He introduced himself as the owner of the circus act, Herr Max Getmann, her German accent thick as he spoke in English. He kind of looked like the Monopoly man to Belle, but there was something about him she didn't quite like.
As the crowd erupted into cheers and claps while he continued, introducing the circus and its performers before announcing the first act, Belle's eyes were searching for Kurt. She watched the curtains at the back of the stage, hoping to see those bright yellow eyes peeking out.
The first set of performers were two acrobats who flew through the air on a trapeze. Their sparkling purple jumpsuits shimmered almost like diamonds underneath the spotlight that followed them. Belle stared in amazement at their act, then at the next one: a group of jugglers, tossing flaming torches between them. Even the third act, which featured a woman who balanced on a horse as it galloped around the ring and sang the infamous song "Theme From New York, New York" by Frank Sinatra, had Belle's eyes wide as saucers.
When the ringmaster returned to the center of the stage, Belle knew that this had to be Kurt's act. "And now..." The music quieted as Belle leaned forward. "For our next performance, we present someone very special. He is an extraordinary young performer... the flying fiend!" He raised his arm toward the darkness above the stage and every light went completely black.
A single spotlight snapped on, focusing on the familiar blue boy that stood high above them and Belle held her breath.
"Call it what you will, ladies and gentlemen, a magnificent monster or daredevil demon! We call it amazing!" Getmann continued, and Belle didn't like the sinister grin now spread across his features. Did he really have to call Kurt all of those things? "Nightcrawler!"
The audience erupted into applause, and Belle clapped along, her eyes fixed on Kurt. She grabbed Sachiko's hands and pointed to him. "That's Kurt!"
There was a look that flashed across Sachiko's face, and Belle wondered if she was seeing what the ringmaster was calling him. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared. "You think he can see you?"
"I hope so!" Belle looked back up to him and waved her hand as wide as possible, as if her life depended on it. She watched as his eyes scanned the audience, and when they landed on hers, she grinned, giving him a thumbs-up.
He looked surprised at first until his ears perked up, his tail curled upward, as he gave her a small wave, returning her smile with one of his own. You've got this, Kurt! I believe in you!
He stood high above them on the platform, his black-and-red costume illuminated by the spotlight. His tail curled loosely around the railing behind him, and for a moment, he seemed almost frozen until Getmann called up to him. "Come, Mein Junge. Show them what you can do." There was something in his voice, something not right, that made Belle shiver.
Belle frowned when she noticed Kurt's ears flatten slightly. Was there something wrong? Was he nervous? She hoped not.
The music started, and Kurt jumped. He launched himself from the platform, his body twisting effortlessly through the air before he caught the first suspended hoop with both hands. His momentum carried him forward, and he swung beneath it before releasing himself. He flipped several times before Kurt extended his arms and caught the next hoop.
The audience erupted, and Belle was clapping so hard her hands began to sting. This was the performance he was practicing earlier, and it was just as perfect.
Throughout Kurt's act, his eyes would often find Belle's in the crowd, and each time she would give him another smile and thumbs-up. It made her feel warm like before.
She could watch Kurt perform for hours if she could. Belle had always loved gymnastics, but watching Kurt made her realize there was an entire world beyond the routines she'd practiced with Mr. and Mrs. Sloane. It made her feel inspired.
"Faster!" Getmann's voice rang through the tent, and Kurt's movements changed.
He began to move faster and swing higher. Belle's smile faded slightly as she noticed the almost tense, focused expression on Kurt's face. She glanced over to the ringmaster, who was smiling broadly at the audience. His charming, proud grin didn't sit well with Belle whatsoever.
"That's it! Faster!"
Kurt's hands caught the next hoop, then the next, his body twisting through the air between them, and Belle held her breath. He released the final hoop, tucked himself into a tight ball, and spun through the air. Then, at the last second, he extended his legs and arms and landed perfectly in the center of the platform.
Everyone jumped to their feet and exploded into thunderous applause and cheers. Belle finally exhaled and stood alongside Sachiko, clapping again.
Kurt's yellow eyes once again found Belle's. He was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down the sides of his face, but he smiled when he saw her.
For a moment, everything seemed to disappear around Belle as she continued to stare at Kurt. The noise faded, and it was just the two of them.
"You did great!" Belle mouthed slowly, and Kurt understood, giving her a small bow.
"Thank you." He mouthed back before holding up his finger, the same one he used in the pinky promise they made. She held up her pinky and nodded with a smile.
Everything came rushing back as Getmann approached Kurt, roughly grasping his shoulder. His smile vanished, and Belle slowly lowered her hands. No one else seemed to notice.
Getmann raised Kurt's arm. "The incredible fiend himself, the amazing Nightcrawler, everyone!"
When the show ended, Belle begged Sachiko to bring her backstage. She wanted to check on Kurt, make sure he was okay. Something wasn't right with that ringmaster, and she didn't like how he treated Kurt.
Unfortunately, her nanny put her foot down and told Belle no. She did promise that if they were still there tomorrow, she would take Belle back to see her friend.
Belle had never wanted so badly to go to sleep when they returned home. What surprised her, however, was her mother and father waiting on the stairs of the first floor. It felt like she hadn't seen them in so long, and she was excited to tell them everything that happened. She would start with the ballet recital, though, just so they could have something to be proud of.
"Mom! Dad!" Belle surged forward to jump into their arms, but her father moved away before she could even touch them. She lowered her hands and took a step back, wondering what she did wrong.
Alessandro looked down at Belle, then to Sachiko, and sneered. He was still dressed in his business suit as if he had just got home, but his tie was undone and his dark brown hair was disheveled. "Do you understand what time it is?" His dark brown eyes were full of fury, and it made Belle want to shrink into a tiny ball.
Belle frowned and shifted nervously on her feet. "We... we were at the fair."
"That same fair known for giving those putrid mutants jobs?" Mina spat, crossing her arms. Despite her mother's venomous tone, she looked so pretty. Belle admired how long her silky black hair was and her beautiful outfits, like the long red dress she was currently sporting. She looked like she belonged on the front cover of a magazine.
Mina narrowed her eyes at Belle's nanny. "I hope you paid for that with your own money and not the funds we pay you to watch our daughter, Sachiko."
Belle found herself moving closer to Sachiko, hating how her nanny's eyes were cast to the ground. "I paid for it," Sachiko said quietly, and Belle took her hand, gently squeezing.
Alessandro scoffed. "With what?"
"My own money, sir."
"How reassuring."
Belle wasn't sure why her parents were so angry, especially at Sachiko. Her nanny didn't do anything wrong, she never did. She was the one who took care of Belle when her parents were busy. She helped her with her homework, took her to ballet and gymnastics, made sure she ate properly, especially after piano lessons, and always remembered the little things her parents forgot.
Like her favorite flavor of ice cream (cookies and cream), or which stuffed animal she wanted beside her when she slept (it was the fuzzy, fluffy unicorn she named June), or taking her on walks around Central Park when the weather was clear enough.
Sachiko was family. At least, Belle thought she was.
"I'm sorry," Sachiko said, lowering her head. "I should have had her home sooner."
"You should have." Alessandro's gaze shifted toward Belle. "And you."
Belle swallowed, tightening her grip around Sachiko's arm. "Yes, father?"
"Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?" She opened her mouth to speak, but Alessandro continued. "That place is crawling with mutants."
Belle's stomach twisted. Was that really what all of this was about? Did they really hate mutants so much?
Mina pinched the bridge of her nose. "Imagine if someone saw you there. Your face would be plastered all over the tabloids the next day!"
Something rose in Belle's chest as she swallowed her fear. "Not all of them are bad."
Sachiko's head snapped towards Belle as her parents' expressions hardened. Her mother's lip pressed into a thin line while her father crossed his arms.
Alessandro stomped to his daughter. "What did you say?"
Her heart was pounding in her chest. "I just meant..." She hesitated as she remembered Kurt and his smile. "They're nice-"
When he struck her, Belle collapsed to the ground, clutching her cheek. Sachiko gasped and dropped to the floor beside her, her hands shaking.
She looked up at her nanny, too stunned to even cry. Her ears were ringing now as her cheeks burned and she tried to understand what just happened.
Her father had never hit her before. Sure, he would yell, scold her, take away privileges, and tell her how disappointed he was in her, but he never laid his hands on her.
Sachiko brought Belle into her arms, shielding her with her body as her parents continued to argue with her nanny. Belle wasn't paying attention to their words, she was too busy trying to figure out why any of this was happening. Sachiko stayed silent as the tears began to stream down Belle's face.
When they left out the front door, slamming it shut behind them, Belle began to sob against Sachiko's shoulder. "I-I-I didn't do anything wrong-" she cried harder, her voice muffled against her nanny's dress.
Sachiko began to rock Belle back and forth, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "I know, my Belle, I know."
"H-h-he was-" Belle sniffled as she thought of Kurt. He wasn't anything at all like what her parents thought. "He was kind to me."
"And that's all that matters, my dear. That's all that matters."
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