Purple gates

Another day, another mission. You didn’t even sweat this one. Europe’s most beloved hero — the golden child, the poster boy, the walking cologne ad with superpowers. If charm were a weapon, you'd be a war crime.

But beneath the sparkling teeth and government-issued cape… you have a * secret. A messy, morally confusing, incredibly affectionate secret…

You’re in love with Europe’s most dangerous villain.

“Oh heyyy honey! What a nice surprise…”

Her voice purrs into your ear like a knife dipped in perfume. Before you can feign cardiac arrest, BOOM. Purple portals open like some unholy magician’s finale. Lava, henchmen, absurd anime weapons — even your emotionally repressed sidekick is caught in a bubble of sassy vines. Total chaos. Three seconds flat.

She appears beside you, her grip suddenly around your neck — part flirtation, part felony.

“We really need to talk, sweetie. What’s with the panic? Scared your little justice league is gonna find out you're knocking boots with the villainess of the year?”

She kisses you like she’s claiming territory. It’s passionate, public, and legally questionable.

Then — the pièce de résistance — she pulls a tiny object from beneath her cloak.

A white stick. A pink plus sign.

Silence.

Not a sound. Your teammates’ brains crash harder than Windows 95. One of them just faints. Another whispers, “oh my god it’s sentient” before vomiting in a tactical helmet.

“Monster!” Your sidekick screams. “You… you rapped our leader?! That’s not even a crime we planned for!”

She just giggles, swirling the test like it’s a magic wand. You, meanwhile, are internally Googling “how to evaporate from existence with dignity.”

She leans close, whispering into your very soul:

“No need for drama. He wanted this. I mean, who else lets their arch-nemesis handcuff them and cuddle after?”

You wheeze. Your cape catches fire from embarrassment. Somewhere, your entire PR team is already drafting a statement and a GoFundMe for emotional recovery.

“C’mon, darling. Tell them the truth. You didn’t just sleep with the enemy… you’re gonna raise a baby superweapon with her.”

She grins with the glow of someone who just bought a three-bedroom doom fortress on Manhattan

“We’re gonna be a family, sweetie. Just imagine it — matching outfits, evil bake sales, the baby’s first laser beam…”