#Yes I’m down bad for the cartoon character mind your business

[avnj0gia]

Thank you to the good people behind Harley Quinn for this and this specifically

[nooblord9001]

By all accounts Steven Universe is a Jewish character

all except the actual fucking text of the cartoon lol

I’ll be honest, if I had written that post on Jojo Rabbit today, it would look very different. I still don’t like the movie, but I’m a lot less harsh on it now that Trump isn’t in office— with the very real threat of my own country turning into Nazi Germany that electing Trump threatened to imply.

(For the Record: I am aware that Biden is capable of turning the U.S. into a hellish police state, and that Trump being re-elected/any GOP candidate winning would all but guarantee things getting worse)

There is absolutely a time and place for films about “hey maybe the civilians of a democracy-turned-despotic AREN’T always 100% complicit in their country’s atrocities that can be mowed down without remorse,” especially nowadays… but it wasn’t in the 2016-2022 political landscape where the “Nazis” were fucking Trump Voters (and even if it was, I don’t think Tumblr would’ve been happy that the mind behind “Our Flag Means Discourse” & “Thor: Lore & Frigeration” was the one telling it, but I’ll take your advice and leave that conversation to the communities that would actually be affected by Taika’s controversies).

This is something I’m going to have to internalize going forward with my expectations and analysis of media I consume: Cultural Warfare is simply shifting goalposts Too Fast for big group art projects to adequately resonate in the way I had been hoping and expecting it to. This isn’t a bad thing— dealing with Trump for 8 consecutive years would’ve been the fucking deathknell of human civilization right then and there, and I stand by that —but it does mean that the greasy neckbeards who shriek “POPULAR MEDIA BAAAAAAAD!” toward the MCU unfortunately had a point about it not being as Woke as I was tongue-bathing it to be at the time.

In the GamerGate years, we needed media to reassure that marginalized communities did not resent their imperfect allies the way they do with their oppressors. Instead every pop cultural institution refused to say anything beyond vague “Fuck Privileged People” ragebait, and then cried Tone Police when questioned if we were collectively being too harsh.

In the Trump Administration, we needed media like The Owl House (& possibly Hazbin Hotel if Adam stays dead) to alienate Conservatives and say “You do not belong in society. If you hurt marginalized people, We Can & Will Replace You— Violently, If Necessary.” Instead, media was too busy correcting the mess it was making only a couple years prior, so instead we got shit like TROS & WW1984 coddling the everloving fuck out of Nazis.

Nowadays, I’m not sure what we need right now, but we’re not going to get it until it’s “too late” to enjoy the kind of “Holy shit, this is EXACTLY what we need WHEN we needed it!” that it felt we were getting with stuff like Wonder Woman 1 & Black Panther 1.

As for the accusation of antisemitism… yeah, if an omniscient being pointed a “go directly to superhell; do not pass go, do not collect $200” weapon at me demanding a truthful answer to “Do you have Unchecked Biases & Blindspots that risk harming Jewish Communities?” I’d unfortunately have to say yes.

I’d probably have to say this about every marginalized ethnic/ethno-religious/racial group, but with Jewish people it’s the one that’s the most obvious to me that I’m struggling in being an ally for.

FUN FACT: Me going on one of my “Death is the Only Remedy Conservatives Deserve!!!1!” tirades— like the one you replied to! —in the midst of a topic where it didn’t belong was what got me (rightfully) kicked out of Lily’s now-defunct Sylvanas Loyalist server! 🫠

Although I would like to Be Better about this sort of thing, I unfortunately have zero intention of taking advice from strangers on the internet at this present time.

I must say, despite your frustrated tone with me, I’m sincerely glad your stroll through memory lane gave me an excuse to self-reflect on the unrealistic expectations I’ve put on pop culture media, and the somewhat-related problematic mental-habits I picked up from building my moral compass during the Trump administration; if she weren’t busy being on vacation whilst awaiting for the verdict of the appeal her lawyers sent to Tumblr Court, I think Lily would be appreciative of you for doing her job of keeping me honest like this in her absence.

Madness

[inkdemonapologist]

[BatIM Call of Cthulhu Masterpost]

nEW SESSION (summary here!), where there’s been an unexpected development to the music issue and its time to [checks my notes] taLK TO THE PROPHET AND BREAK INTO SUSIE’S APARTMENT??? Also, the Prophet and Joey have made.... a truce(???), Prophet is concerned Sammy isn’t going to stay on task now that music is returning and has left him a sort of alarming note, and Jack is uh, trying to hold, too many things, maybe some things he shouldn’t be holding, Jack please put those things back,

anyway heres a stack of out-of-context quotes from our session under the readmore:

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Jack] My favourite thing is, there are so many reasons that Henry could've avoided things that I have no idea WHY Henry isn't affected. [Jack] Like, is he not affected because his art isn't a performance? Is he not affected because he warded his house? Is he not affected because he'S FILLED WITH GLOWING BLOOD?!?

[Jack] He got as far as feeding his cat, and I feel like feeding cat isn't a performance-- [Sammy] Not usually, not unless you sing a song to your cat, which-- [Jack] Awww! [Sammy] -- which, now that I've said that, sounds like something Jack would do actually,

[Sammy] Ohhhh, that's right, Joey just heard some people play some bad notes and start panicking, and then he stood up and passed out, [Jack] Which is probably how Sammy feels every time he hears people mess up music!

[GM] He finds news on the radio, but they’re not talking about that right now. [Joey] What are they talking about? [GM] Something mundane; business or sports or something. [Jack] The, the sportsball team, got a…..uh….. a, a point. Congratulations, sportsball,

[Joey] If the sportscasters sound normal, then Joey is instantly VERY ANGRY.

[Henry] Henry’s not very musically inclined, but he knows some songs, [Sammy] Like, can you hum Twinkle Twinkle Little Star -- [Jack] “Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.”

[Jack] Jack has made a vague list of the kinds of people who seem to be affected. [Jack] There’s also “NOT HENRY?????” with a bunch of question marks in this list.

[GM] He’s told that Peter is out of town for a week. [Jack] Hmm. [Sammy] PETER WHERE ARE YOU GOING? [Jack] Hmmmmmm. [Sammy] Jack, is Peter coming here, to check on you, [Jack] HMMMMMMMMMMMMM,

[Sammy] *exasperated* NPCs Stop Getting Involved In The Occult Challenge [Henry] Stop Getting Involved In The Occult Or Draw 25

[Joey] Peter had never seen a Bendy cartoon, and this needed to be fixed. [Joey] The premier is this weekend, and he sent tickets to Pete to correct this, error, in his ways. [Jack] ...I think it is very slowly dawning on Jack, that this means that Pete has been pulled directly into yet another… supernatural nonsense... [Sammy] WE DIDNT DO THIS ONE!!

[Sammy] I CAN’T BELIEVE PHONES ARE THE ANTAGONIST OF THIS ADVENTURE

[Henry] Oh wait--! oh, no, nevermind, I forgot he and Allison probably aren’t together yet. [Sammy] Yeah, I think they just met; they had a meet-cute where they found out they both like Frankenstein and that’s it. [Jack] They actually got married today, since nothing else was happening at the Studio, [Sammy] That’s why Allison hasn’t shown up, she was busy getting married!

[GM] Bendy might’ve been keeping tabs on Henry, but it depends I guess on how distressed Joey is seeming. [Joey] Joey is probably just going to bury his sorrow in studying magic. [GM] Okay! That’s fine and normal Joey behaviour!

[Sammy] Sammy will note that nothing got done in the music department, because he has good priorities.

[Jack] I like the idea that it’s just like, when the teacher isn’t in, and nobody does the work the substitute teacher gave you, [Jack] Everyone’s just playing pokemon in the back, [GM] I thought you were going to say “poker,” but I like the way you ended the sentence better.

[Jack] HMMMMMM. I wonder if we know, any suspicious women, who were around on that specific day, who are known to have, skill and interest in magical things,  [Joey] And also were aware of the cutouts, [Sammy] *cheerfully* Yeah, weird! Anyway!!!!

[Jack] Sammy was acting weird about Allison. Far too agreeable for a Sammy!

[Sammy] *talking about Prophet* If you want to lock him in somewhere, or restrain him, I’ll cooperate. [Jack] Just handcuff him to Jack! [Sammy] SAMMY IS UNEASY WITH THAT PLAN, [Jack] *laughing* What could go wrong! It’s not like Jack is significantly less strong or anything!!

[Jack] Not everyone makes up their entire self, Joey!!! (Affectionate)!!

[Sammy] I give my word, my sheep! [Henry] How good is your word? [Sammy] I mean. It’s pretty good.

[Henry] Henry’s trying to decide if it would be rude to doodle during this very serious conversation. [Jack] I mean, Jack is taking notes, so I feel like-- [Joey] --you can get away with fake note-ing. [GM] No one will know! [GM] Well, Bendy will know, because he’s up high. [GM] Ceiling Bendy

[Sammy] He’s not gonna give you a grade afterwards, like, this isn’t a lecture, [Jack] Time for Prophet Pop Quiz!

[GM] What’s Prophet writing? [Sammy] Um, I gotta think about this... [Jack] “Dear Frightened Shepherd, that Allison person sure is nice, isn’t she?” [GM] “What’s up with everyone ragging on her?” [Joey] “I think I have finally found a way to bridge the gap between us!” [Jack] “I think you need to replace your sheep, they seem kind of suspicious for no reason,” [Jack] “To Do List: Get Better Sheep”

[Sammy] Does this feel like something that’s trying to take his focus, like, very compelling creative ideas? [GM] Yes. [Sammy] ...Prophet will write “don’t get distracted” five more times.

[GM] His mind is abuzz with thoughts of dancing and actoring, [GM] Ideas to be the best Joey ever! [Jack] Oh no.

[Joey] He will wave at the cutout and make a “come here” motion. [Joey] Though also, he’s looking at the cutout like, I’m not quite sure how this works, but I’m going to trust you that it works! So I’m going to do this and see if Bendy shows up! [Jack] Like someone trying to learn how to do phone video calls for the first time, [Joey] YES. Joey’s actually like really close to the cutout, and the motions -- you can make them out, but it’s really awkward,

[Sammy] They’re in no danger. I will take care of the Shepherd’s sheep. [Jack] ...JACK’S BEEN DOWNGRADED!! He’s no longer PROPHET’S sheep!

[Joey] I like how everything Prophet says really just feels like, Knife Cat face.

[GM] You could probably make a Mythos roll to figure it out. [Joey] *rolls* Oh! Extreme success! [GM] Joey’s back!

[GM] Bendy will lead Joey back to the room, where hopefully there are three alive, non-fighting boys!

[Jack] Part of me was like, “What if Jack DOES turn into a cat…?! It’d be pretty hard to write things!” [GM] *laughs* We’ll keep that in our back pocket, in case Jack ever fails a Mythos check. [Jack] Meowthos check…

[Henry] I’m going to have Henry look, look with his Special Eyes.

[Sammy] *failing a roll* Prophet is just, NOT on the ball today, in any way shape or form. [GM] Really hard not to think about music. : ) [Sammy] Ohhhhhh boy, [Jack] Prophet just writes a note to Sammy that says “HOW do you LIVE like this???”

[Henry] Henry’s gonna try to scribble what he remembers of the symbol!  [Sammy] Didn’t we learn, from the last scenario, about reproducing weird symbols, [Henry] No.

[Joey] Did Joey get burnt? [GM] Make a dexterity roll! : ) [Henry] *mumbling* Y’all this entire building is made of wood. *Joey fails* [GM] 1 point of damage, you singe your hand -- on the plus side, you kind of were holding it as it burned up, so it doesn’t fall on the wooden floor. [Sammy] OH GOOD, we’re not LOCKED IN A CLOSET that’s about to burn down? GREAT!

[Joey] We could head over to the infirmary -- [Jack] Jack is already pulling the burn ointment out of his bag. [Jack] He’s prepared this time! [Jack] He’s been practicing, he knows what you’re all like,

[Joey] Joey will give him a smile that’s most recognisable as the “I know you will do good!” smile. [Sammy] Prophet will also smile! It is not a friendly smile. [Jack] It’s a “smile” in quotation marks, but it’s like, baring your teeth as an act of aggression. 

[Jack] Jack lets him go to do the call, but just before he picks up the phone, he says, “Don’t call him Petey.”

[GM] The phone rings, and is not answered. [Joey] Okay! Joey hangs up, says Peter checked into his room, but is not answering. Most likely asleep. [Jack] Half of my brain is going, “what if he’s just stood outside Jack’s house?” The other half of my brain is concerned about manias. I hope he’s not decided that now is a really great time to do more writing, and now he can’t stop, and this could go wrong-- [Jack] This is what Jack’s mind is doing, thinking of all the terrible possibilities. [Joey] While humming. [Jack] ...yes. He’s writing some very troubling lyrics.

[Sammy] *talking about Jack’s compulsive humming* Like Cornifer, [Jack] *starts humming Cornifer’s theme* Dangit, now it’s in my head, why would you do this to me? [Sammy] It’s in character! [Sammy] Method acting. : )

[Joey] Joey’s going to grab supplies to make sure Bendy can… hang around with them! [Joey] Sleepover supplies! Let’s grab your sleepover bag! :D

[Sammy] I don’t know why the idea of a wild Bendy running around across the rooftops is so cute to me… [GM] Probably on all fours, [Jack] Scampering,

[Jack] It’s a good thing Henry’s around because I don’t think Jack can… carry??? An entire Sammy??? [Jack] Like he’s good at holding but he’s not strong at holding.

[Joey] We’ve all been acting terrible for the last 24 hours… [Joey] WAIT. We’ve all been acting terrible for the last 24 hours!!!

[GM] Bendy hides under a blanket or something. [Jack] Comfey… [GM] Cozy boy, [Joey] Bendyrito. [Sammy] BENDYRITO,…….. [GM] Rolled up… snug...

[GM] Is everybody coming into the apartment, or just the two? [Jack] Hmmm….. Jack isn’t fond of either of these options. Going in is suspicious and weird; staying outside makes it look even more like they’re breaking in, to steal things, as opposed to, y’know, breaking in, for,,, “good” reasons(???) [Sammy] We’re not breaking in, we’re just walking into this apartment! What’s so weird about that?! [Jack] That’s breaking in. That’s what breaking in is, Sammy. [Sammy] They don’t have to know that we don’t belong here, maybe Susie gave us a key! [Jack] ...they heard us knocking. [Sammy] [Sammy] We’re BEING POLITE!! SHUT UP!!

[Henry] Jack, did you pick up kleptomania.. [Joey] I thought Jack picked up Being Prepared! [Jack] H-he’s just hoarding a little bit!! It’s fine!!! It’s very, useful, see, already Joey got injured!! It was useful to bring lots of things with him okay!!!!!!!!!

[GM] They do not have the police called on them, so that’s nice. [Sammy] Oh good! [Jack] Thank GOODNESS. [Henry] Love when that happens! [GM] If you guys got arrested, the Lurker’s just out in the car all night, [Henry] oh NO, [Jack] Worse punishment than jail… [Joey] Lurker learns how to drive for fun. [GM] *laughs* Gets curious, [Joey] “I said I wouldn’t leave the car, but--”

[Joey] WAIT. There’s a very important factor that we just decided but didn’t say. [GM] Oh? [Joey] If we have Henry heading home, and everyone else sleep over at Jack’s…. [Joey] ...the Lurker finally gets to meet a cat. *everyone gasps* [Jack] Oh that’s SO important

[Henry] And Henry will probably look at these, while in the car, to make sure they don’t have any gold writing on them-- [Sammy] Isn’t Henry driving??? [Henry] ……Henry is not going to look at them in the car,

[Sammy] We’re all going to bed, Sammy, you don’t need a banjo to sleep! [Joey] You might sleep worse if you have a banjo, actually. You might not stop.

[Sammy] Jack you wanna join us? We’re gonna just jam all night! [Jack] It really is Jammy… [Sammy] *laughs* TRUE Jammy!! Real Jammy Hours… [GM] That makes it a pyJAMa party… a real jammy jam…

[boldlyvoid]

New Romantics | Part Four

18+

Summary: She needs help studying for her Case Exercises at the Academy, He needs a date for the annual Banquet... they just so happen to be neighbours who aren't afraid to lend a helping hand, or in this case, a helping kiss.

Categories: Fake dating, neighbours, strangers to lovers, mutual pining, Angst with a happy ending, Smut *as selected by my poll on what you wanted to read*

Warnings: Season 9 Spencer (no Maeve arc), Angst, kissing, drinking, police training mentions, case details, canon typical violence, self-doubt, autistic!spencer, age gaps (24/33), FWB relationships, anxiety attacks, crying, misunderstandings, oral sex (both), penetrative sex, Perv!Spencer low-key, public sex, quickies, multiple orgasms,

Word Count: 5k

a/n: what could possibly go wrong next?

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | epilogue

She’s been asleep barely 2 hours when he shakes her awake, “Hey, when did you need to get ready today?”

“Uh?” She sits up and rubs her eyes, “we don’t have to leave until 1 so, like 11?”

“It’s 8:30, did you want to stay and sleep more?”

She looks at him and sighs, “are we okay?”

He nods, “can we just call it even?”

“Sure,” she agrees without knowing what she did wrong. It was more than just snapping on Tuesday, which is what she was still hurt over. “But I’m going to go, I need to change and stuff.”

“Yeah,” he nods but his smile is sad and she knows she’s fucking it up more.

She gets out of his bed, once it was the warmest bed she’s ever known. Any bed she shared with him was, but now it felt cold and uninviting and there was an unspoken knowingness that they were both genuinely upset.

“I’m still your fake girlfriend for the next 24 hours… can we make them count?” She asks, avoiding eye contact so he can't see her cry if he says no.

“Come here?”

She gets back into the bed and she cuddles into his chest. He holds her for a moment, “you’ve been the best girlfriend in the whole world. Do you really still want to be friends after this? Have I fucked up that bad?”

“Oh honey,” she places a hand on his cheek and looks at him softly, “I will be your neighbour, your best friend, your co-worker, carpool buddy, coffee friend, girlfriend, whatever you need as long as you’d like to have me around.”

He remembers the first time she said that and she knows because his smile is the same. “I love you.”

It hurts, “I love you, too.”

She kisses him quickly, attempting to pull back when his fingers grip her hair and his tongue is on her lips and she’s following his lead again.

“No,” she whispers, “I can’t.”

“Oh,” he stops and his hands drop to his sides so she can get back up.

“I’m going to go get ready, but I’ll come back when I’m done?”

“Yeah,” he nods again.

It breaks her heart to get up and go, she grabs her shoes and she sneaks out of his room, finding her keys in her pocket, she opens her own door and cries the second the door closes.

She cries in the shower, she cries while fixes her hair, she cries while she has lunch. Every song reminds her of the situation, every section of her apartment reminds her of him, the stupid door where they first kissed is closed and she wishes he was stable enough to bang on it and demand an answer.

Whatever was going on between them was reaching a bubbling over point, she can only store so much emotion before she explodes on him.

As soon as she is in her dress, makeup on and ready to go, she walks into his apartment to find him struggling with his bowtie, it makes her smile for the first time since she left his room this morning, “need help?”

“Yes, please.”

She walks over to him and repeats the same movements he attempted, making the bow look pretty before smoothing her hands over his dress shirt and looking up at him. “Handsome as ever.”

“You’re always beautiful,” he compliments her right back but his voice is still as sad as the night before.

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on in there?” She pries, tapping his temple with her index finger, “you’re my best friend and I don’t like seeing you sad.”

“I heard what you said yesterday,” he whispers, “about how if you were just using someone you would have picked Derek.”

“And?” She doesn’t get why it’s a big deal because it makes perfect sense to her in her mind.

“And it hurt me,” he snaps, “quite a lot!?”

And the dam breaks.

“Because I proved to them that I’m not using you? Spencer do you know what I meant by that?” She snaps right back.

“What else could it mean?! Clearly I’m not hot enough for you to just fuck and toss aside—”

“I meant that I love you and that’s why I’m with you! If I was just using someone for a job then I’d fuck Derek cause he’s a one and done, toss them to the side and never see them again, kind of guy!”

“And?” He repeats her word choice in a snippy tone that makes her furious but she knows he’s just trying his best to understand her.

She sighs loudly and obnoxiously, “and you’re a take him to meet your mom, marry and have his babies, love him for the rest of your life and one day scatter his ashes, kind of lover.” Crying by the end, she wipes her tears and tries to stay somewhat presentable-looking.

He’s silent, eyes wide as he takes in all her words, “I have always loved you,” she adds, “and no matter how fucking angry I am or how stressed or upset, I am never going to stop loving you, Spencer.”

“Me either,” his tone is still just as upset, “and that's the part that sucks.”

“What do you mean?” She just poured her heart out to him and he still doesn’t get it.

“I LOVE YOU!” He screams it at her with his hands thrown in the air, “I love you more than I’ve loved anyone in my entire fucking life and it’s driving me crazy!”

“It’s driving you crazy?” She can’t help but laugh like she’s losing her mind, “I have been doing everything in my power to make you understand that I love you and you keep thinking I just want to be friends!”

“Because you said you loved me like a friend the first time?!”

“No, I fucking didn’t!” She is so frustrated she’s turning the same colour as her dress, steaming from her ears like a cartoon character.

“I asked if best friends can be in love because I wanted to see if you would say you loved me more than that, and then you fucking said “yeah cause that’s how I love you” which means you love me as a friend?!”

“Because I thought that’s what you wanted?!”

She can’t rub her eyes cause she’ll ruin her makeup but she is so mad she just wants to scream. Pressing her fingers to her own temples, she turns away from him and sighs, she loves him so much and yet this is the most frustrating thing that’s ever happened.

“You are so lucky,” she just laughs, shaking her head back and forth as she turns back to him, “you are so fuckin’ lucky.”

“Why?”

She wraps her arms around his middle and looks up into his eyes with one last sigh, “we have to go or we’ll be late, so I can’t explain all of my feelings right now, so let’s bench this conversation and I can show you just how much I love you when we get back?”

“Okay,” he nods. He rests his hands on her arms and he looks down with the softest glance, he’s still trying so hard to not cry. “I’m really sorry.”

“So am I, I should have listened to you better and explained myself more,” she whispers, “do you believe me now?”

He nods, “I told you, it’s hard for me.”

“I tried my best to be subtle so I didn’t scare you off, but I guess you really don’t do subtle?” She can’t help but laugh, “but I really do love you.”

His hands are on her cheeks, pulling her into a kiss, she melts against him. He breathes her in, it’s the longest and deepest kiss she’s ever had and she honestly feels like he’s taking her soul and making her his. She belongs to him and she knows it, now he does too.

“I love you, too.”

—

All eyes are on her and it makes him smile, she’s the only one in a red dress in a room full of black and white, she stands out like a sore thumb. She looks the most beautiful, she stands beside Spencer with her arm wrapped around his and a huge smile on her face, it makes him even happier to see her smile again.

The hardest part of fighting with her was knowing she was upset and that he was only making it worse. Seeing her smile return is everything to him, he loves her more than words can express and she loves him right back, he can tell by the way she smiles at him; because it’s exactly the same way he’s smiling at her.

“I see that you’ve made up,” Derek interrupts their current dance to say hello.

The BAU team was always so busy on nights like this, they had all the best stories and everyone wanted to hear them, which meant they typically didn’t see each other a lot for the whole night.

“We did,” Spencer smiles. “Thank’s Derek.”

She looks up at them both, confused, “how many of them know?”

“Huh?” He plays dumb but she can see right through him.

“Do they all know I’m not really your girlfriend or is it just Aaron, Derek and whoever else you told?”

“Elle,” he says her name. “I told the first girl I slept with that I was falling in love with you because I needed advice from someone who has already been with me and knows how I get.”

“Sick, cool, love that for you,” she smiles and walks away.

He grabs her and she stops, “I told you how much it hurt that I had no one to talk to and you told all of them? And you couldn’t even tell me you really loved me this whole time? I thought we were best friends Spencer?” She shakes her head, disappointed more than anything, swatting his hand off her as he reaches to stop her.

“Let her go, she’s right to be a little mad,” Derek holds him back. “let her be mad.”

“Why?” Spencer is so new to relationships he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“She wants to be your girlfriend for real, let her calm down and then go apologize and ask her,” Derek's smile is sweet as he pulls Spencer into a hug.

It slowly becomes a dance, everyone is used to Derek being touchy with his friends, he has danced with everyone so far tonight so it’s only fair Spencer has a turn. Spencer holds him tight, eyes closed so he doesn’t have to think about all the attention he’s been getting since they arrived.

“Thank you for always being here for me,” he whispers, “but I have to go see her.”

“Fights like this just make your relationship stronger, it teaches you how she wants you to communicate, she just wants you to be honest with her, always,” he whispers with his cheek pressed to Spencer's, “and angry make-up sex is really fun.”

It makes him laugh, “thanks, but she won’t be sleeping with me for a few days, if my memory is correct then she’s mad for more than one reason.”

“Ah,” Derek gets it, “good luck my friend. Good luck.”

When Spencer pulls away, he heads in the direction Y/N left and follows the hallway as far as it goes. She’s sitting on a bench by a window, staring off at the night sky as she takes some deep breaths. She looks a little more peaceful, she’s had a really rough few weeks and he’s not making it any easier on her.

“I know two things for sure,” he speaks softly but she still jumps a little as she turns to him.

“What would they be?”

“That you’re the love of my life,” he’s confident as he sits on the bench beside her and takes her hand in his. “And I’m an idiot when it comes to love.”

“That is quite the dilemma,” she smirks, her eyes gleam as she looks at him and he knows she was trying not to cry by how glossy they are, but it makes her more beautiful, somehow.

“I’m really sorry.”

“All you have to do is tell me the truth, Spencer,” she places her hand on his leg and leans in with a whisper, “it’s really simple.”

“Truth is,” he whispers right back, lips close enough to kiss, “I’m never going to stop loving you, which means more stupid moments are in my future. Just so you know.”

She giggles and kisses him quickly, “I don’t mind being the smart one in the relationship, but you still have to ask.”

“Will you be my girlfriend and let me love you for the rest of my life, no matter how much I fuck up and drive you crazy?” He teases her, knowing she’ll say yes regardless.

“On one condition,” she can’t hide the smirk on her face and he’s nervous at what she’s thinking.

“Anything?”

“You let me love you for just as long? If not longer.”

He nods, “forever?”

She nods back before kissing him just as deeply as they did that morning, her hands in his hair as she presses his face into her’s with force. She holds him there and breathes him in, pulling back with a classic smooch sound, she smiles again, “you’re my boyfriend now.”

He nods with a small smile, “what should we do first as boyfriend and girlfriend?”

She bites her lip and pretends to think about it for a moment, “fuck in the linen closet down the hall?”

“I don’t have any condoms on me?” Is his only worry, not getting caught, not that all their bosses and superiors were there, just that he didn’t have a condom.

She pulls one out of her bra with a smile, “Savannah gave this to me about 3 minutes before you came over here.”

“How much make-up sex do they have?” He asks as he takes her hand and leads her down the hallway.

She’s giddy and smiling, her heels click on the floor as they rush to the other end of the hall and open the little door. There are shelves with towels and rolls upon rolls of silverware in cloth napkins. A vacuum in the corner, some brooms and just enough room for them.

She pulls him in closer and shuts the door, reconnecting their lips as she pushes him up against it. Hands reaching for his belt she kisses down his neck and he’s like putty in her hands as soon as she strokes him, he moans by accident and she covers his mouth with her free hand.

“Do you have any idea how turned on you make me? I have wanted to fuck you since I first saw you, 6 years ago…”

“Really?” His muffled voice behind her hand makes her laugh. She removes her hand and instead runs her fingers through his hair while taking a moment to look at him and really take it all in.

“Yeah,” she nods, “which is why I asked to sleep with you on the way home from the bar, I didn’t know if I could handle it either it, but I’ve always wanted Doctor Reid from the BAU to rail me. I just didn’t think we’d end up falling in love?”

“No one has ever admitted to having a crush on me and meant it,” he whispers.

“I’m glad I get to be one of your firsts,” she smiles again before he pulls her into another kiss.

She kisses the side of his mouth and then his jaw, down his neck and then she’s dropping to her knees in front of him. He’s hard in her hands but he twitches as he sees her like this, looking up at him with lust-blown eyes as she strokes him, she flattens her tongue and taps the tip of his cock to it.

He has to cover his own mouth or else he’s going to get them caught, he moans at the feeling, closing his eyes and that's when she takes him in her mouth. His free hand is in her hair, careful not to mess it up but enough grip to steady himself.

He tilts his head back against the door with a knock and a sign, “fuck,” he can’t help but talk into his hand which only makes it sound louder in the tight space.

She feels so good every single time and yet this one feels different, he looks down at her and she pulls off, “what’s wrong?”

“I love you,” he shrugs.

He helps her back up to her feet and she backs up against the shelves, “come here?”

He helps her hike her dress up, holding all the material up as he slips her underwear off and takes that condom back out of her bra with a single kiss to her chest. He rolls it over himself and lines up with her, her arms wrap around his shoulders as she looks at him, “show me how much you love me?”

He slides in and they don’t break eye contact as she takes him, her mouth opens in a silent gasp at the feeling, her hands grip his shoulders tighter as she steadies her ass on a shelf and wraps her legs around him while he bottoms out.

With a hand on her cheek and one on her lower back, he pulls out and thrusts back in with a smile as she bites back a moan, she pulls his face in close to hers to kiss him while he fucks her. The hand on his cheek slides down her neck, applying a small amount of pressure that makes her breathing hitch. She swallows sharply before his hand starts to trail over her breasts and then between them.

With a thumb on her clit, he fucks her a little harder while rubbing his thumb in a circle. She’s breathing heavily into his mouth, placing sloppy kisses against each other as they enjoyed each other.

She’s so close and he knows it, and then there is a knock on the door.

“Spence, we have a case when you’re done?” He hears Derek's voice behind the door and he can’t believe it.

“Okay!” He calls back without stopping, instead, he fucks into her a little faster.

“Oh!” She moans by accident before covering her mouth with a slap and wide eyes, moaning behind her hand as she bounces on his cock.

He kisses her hand, making her move it so he can press his lips back to hers and absorb all the noises she was going to make, her hands both reach for his back, gripping his suit jacket so tight he’s afraid she might rip it.

She cums with a shocked gasp, it’s as quiet as possible but it still echos around them as he gets closer and closer. He buries his face in her neck and accidentally moans as well as he cums, stilling his hips as he holds her there, sputtering his hips against hers as they catch their breath.

“I love you,” he manages to say between breaths, “that much.”

“You need to go,” she smiles.

He kisses her one last time before he pulls out, he loves the way she gasps every time he does so. She smiles after, their teeth clashing as they laugh, “I’m going to get in so much trouble.”

“I’m never going to get a job,” she shakes her head as she gets off the shelf and fixes her dress.

He takes off the condom and wraps it in some paper towel on the shelf, he’ll get rid of it later. She picks up her underwear, he thinks she puts them back on, but she really slides them into his pocket for him to find in the middle of the case when he reaches for something important...

—

She rides back to headquarters with Penelope and JJ, both of them want to ask and she knows it. Mainly because she looks like she’s had sex, and also because she asks to stop at the academy so she can get another pair of underwear from her locker.

It’s not until they’re in Penelope’s office that they ask, “what’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” She plays dumb.

“Dating Spencer?” Penelope says, “more specifically, having sex with him?” She mumbles and it makes Y/N laugh.

“In total, we’ve been having sex for 3 weeks now and I’ve had 21 orgasms, and we only really fuck on the weekends cause that’s when we’re not busy…” she grinds her teeth slightly with a raised brow, taking a deep breath, “yeah. It’s really great.”

“Holy shit?” They both look more shocked than she’s ever seen them. “How many has he had?” Penelope asks with a quiet voice, pretending she didn’t.

She laughs slightly, “like maybe 14? He’s really generous.”

“What the fuck?” JJ turns to Penelope and shakes her head and there’s something more there that Y/N can sense.

“Who’s Elle?” She asks and they both turn to her with the biggest eyes.

“How do you know about Elle?”

“She’s the first person he slept with?”

“When?” They both shout.

“So he wasn’t kidding. You guys really thought he was a virgin this whole time?” She looks at them like they’re crazy. “How?”

They both just shake their heads and sigh, stuttering and looking for words they don’t have. “We just never thought he could?”

“Snooze ya loose, I guess?” She shrugs, “so what is the case and how can I help?”

“Right! We have a case,” Penelope snaps back into it, “but seriously Elle? Are you sure you have your names right?”

“Penelope,” she looks at her seriously.

“Right, they’re headed to Roanoke.”

There was a child abduction of a 6-year-old girl, CARD and the BAU were both called out and that meant everyone was mingling on the two floors and they would use as much help as possible.

It also turns out that Anderson’s surrogate went into labour a little earlier than anyone expected; so he and his husband have left for paternity leave early. Leaving JJ without an assistant and she really needs help in the office for this one.

She catches on rather quickly, knowing the protocols from her training and she’s not afraid to ask questions. She’s still in her dress, her heels click on the tiles as she rushes around with files, making phone calls and running from the briefing room to Penelope’s office.

When they finally crack the case and apprehend the suspect, she sits down finally. It’s been 11 hours since the banquet, and she was exhausted beyond belief. She never slept the night before, Spencer was uncomfortable and she was in her jeans and when she did fall asleep, he was waking her up moments later to get ready.

It's Sunday morning at 9 am when Spencer finally returns back at headquarters. She’s sitting at his desk when he comes up and wraps his arms around her, “we’re going home, come on.”

“Don’t you have to debrief?”

“Did that on the way back,” he turns her around in the role chair and tilts her head up to look at him, she’s so tired and he can tell. “You have a big day tomorrow.”

“Ugh,” she stands up with his help, “I did enough profiling today and now I have a whole week to get through.”

“Just to come back and work here,” he smiles, “if you still want to?”

She wraps him up in a real hug and nods against him, “it’s so fun, even with all the murder.”

“Coming home to this is really nice,” he whispers before kissing her cheek quickly, “I’m glad you like it here.”

“Well, well, well,” Derek's voice is behind them. They pull away to see him smiling, arms wide as he saunters over, “if it isn’t the new romantics.”

“Did you have any suspicions?” Y/N asks, he was a profiler after all.

“I knew something was up,” he’s honest. “I knew you guys were actually doing stuff together, I just didn’t think there was so much angst behind closed doors?”

“You have no idea,” Y/N laughs, holding Spencer closer, “it took too long.”

“I thought you were fighting about the job, cause he wasn’t really upset until you were in Penelope’s office, and I heard the rumours even before he heard what you said,” Derek smiles again, “but I also knew you loved him and he loves you.”

“Correct,” she can’t help but smile. “But we really should head home.”

“Home we go,” Spencer agrees.

—

She asks him to unzip her dress the second they’re back in her apartment. She drops the dress to the floor and heads to the bathroom and he’s left alone in her room. It feels different now. He remembers kissing her in the living room for the first time like it was yesterday, he remembers the first time they had sex, the first time he said I love you, and now he’s here and she’s his girlfriend and he’s going to get to make more memories with her.

He’s so embarrassed by how much he’s been crying lately, something about being in his mid-30s was making him feel like he was about to go through menopause— he has never been very openly emotional, but it’s about time he lets himself feel. He wipes the tears and turns to face the wall while he takes his suit off.

He’s been through too much, a lot of which she doesn’t know of. She has promised him forever, whether she means it or not, and he’s worried he’s going to fuck it up before he gets there.

When she comes back, she lays a towel down on her side of the bed and gets in, “guess who got her period on her first day of work?”

“No?” He gasps, playing along with her playful mood. “At least you’re not pregnant.”

“Thank god,” she sighs, “please for the love of God, don’t get me pregnant for at least 5 years? I want a decent career first so that I don't miss much on maternity leave. I really don't want to be benched for having kids.”

He cries again and she looks so concerned as she gets out of bed and wraps her arms around him, “what did I say wrong, Spencer?”

Still facing the wall, he just lets it all out, “I’m sorry.”

“For what, sweetheart?” She attempts to soothe him by running her hands down his arms, “for crying or something else?”

“Crying,” he whispers and she turns him around then.

“Hey,” she looks up at him with the softest expression he’s ever seen, “you are allowed to have emotions, you are allowed to show them and ask for help and tell me when you need something. I’m not going to think you’re too much, or I can’t handle you or think of you as a burden. I know that’s how you feel because it’s how I fell, and we don’t need to go through that together.”

“I love you,” it’s the only thing that feels right to say.

“I love you,” she repeats it, “what made you cry?”

“Can we get in bed first?”

“Yeah, finish getting ready and then come tell me,” she whispers before reaching up and pressing a kiss to his lips.

He slips away to go to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and washing his face. He’s exhausted but he doesn’t want to miss any time with her. He hurries back to her side, getting into bed in his underwear and making sure both his phones are on the night table, charged and ready if they need him.

But until then, he belonged to her.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep?” It’s the first thing he asks because he knows she has a big day tomorrow. “It can wait.”

“What’s that thing you say about intermittent sleep is actually better?”

“Don’t use my words against me, I do that so people don’t stop me from doing what I think I deserve,” he’s truthful. “I’m not going to ever lie or fib to you again. I hate myself, and if I don’t feel like I’ve done enough I won't sleep or eat sometimes.”

“I do that too,” she’s not proud, “are you trying to tell me you cried cause you’re hungry or tired?”

“No,” he smiles, “but thank you for asking for clarification, I like this new system.”

“Me too.”

“I cried because I really love you and I’m realizing this is all real and I’m going to get to make good memories with you, and when you said kids, even in a hypothetical sense, it made it feel real for me,” he whispers the words before pressing his lips together awkwardly.

She glows in the lap light like she did that first night, “it’s a weird concept, isn’t it? The future. At some point I’m going to have known you longer than anyone, one day we’ll have lived with each other longer than we’ve lived apart. We might be grandparents together one day? It’s all weird to think about.”

“Do you seriously want all that with me?” He’s asking because he has another question to ask right after.

“Yes, Spencer,” she laughs. “I really do.”

“Would you like to Marry me?”

“Seriously?” Her eyes widen and her jaw drops and he’s never seen her look this stunned before.

He nods, “my mom isn’t going to able to appreciate my wedding the longer I wait, and if you really mean it; I’d like to have a wedding with my mom there while she remembers me.”

“I know her birthday is coming up, but can we bring her here instead?”

“Why?”

“My parents decided to drive from Salam to here for my graduation and use the flight money on a nice Airbnb for the week. We should do it while they’re all here because I don’t know when they’d be able to come back,” she has had the same worries about her parents missing her life.

“I’ll ask my mom,” he smiles. “So we’re getting married?”

“in like a week,” she laughs, “oh fuck, how are we going to do that in a week?”

He rolls over and grabs his personal phone, he dials a number and she looks even more confused now.

“Hey Penelope, how fast can you plan a wedding?”

~

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New Romantics:

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[lesbian-deadpool]

Happy Little Accidents

Part Two: Hope

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 2,317

Warnings: I don’t think there is any?? Crying/light angst, adoption process, stress??

Request: Yes

Summary: You work on getting you little girl back. And hope that it’s successful.

A/N: It’s been a long time coming, I haven’t proof read it or anything (but when do I ever? Lol), so bare that in mind.

Ko-Fi

(Not My GIF)

***

Being a pair of Avengers and going through the adoption process was so very complicated.

On one hand, you were well known across the globe. Household names.

But on the other. You were dangerous people, with violent past's -and futures to come- with more enemies than you could count. Some of which you didn't even know existed. And who in their right minds would ever let a child into that environment? People have been turned down for much less.

However.

You were basically celebrity's. And as everyone knows, that comes with a lot of special treatment. Even if you and Natasha -And most of, if not all of your team- denied to use any of it. But in this case? For little Hope? You would do whatever you had to.

So, it was thanks to that, that you were even allowed to be considered for adoption.

And there was so much work that had to be done.

Papers to sign, meetings to attend, visits and screenings every which way. And so much more.

It was a long and tedious journey. And you still had a long way to go.

Right now, you had to watch as someone picked apart your home -once again- to make sure it was okay for your little girl to come home. Where she belongs.

You had moved not too long ago, maybe a little over two months, and in that time, it had been looked at three times. Which really made it seem like you weren't doing anything, in their eyes, considering you were busy working and renovating the whole place out at the same time.

The day after you and Natasha had to say goodbye to Hope, you knew that you had to get a bigger place than the apartment you had both shared. And began looking for new homes the very same day.

Tony's help wasn't needed, you had plenty of money, but he insisted. So when you two found a townhouse that you absolutely adored, not too far from SHIELD HQ -where you both now worked most of the time. As when Fury found out that you were both to be adopting Hope- or trying to at least, the man lowered your hours and took you off missions altogether. Just until you were all settled-, the billionaire bought it for you, the moment he got wind of it.

You were moved in three days later. Deciding to work on the house while you lived there.

"So, where would the child be sleeping?" Your caseworker asked.

"Oh, right this way," you said, leading her down the hall to the newly decorated bedroom. Natasha following behind.

You gestured to the light pink, yet slightly sparse room. "This is it."

"We still have to pick up some of the furniture. But we've been waiting for the room to be decorated first," Natasha said, excusing the bare room.

"Yeah, Hope's not going to sleep on a stack of paint cans," you tried to joke. To which you barely got a smile from your caseworker, Stephany Halla.

"It look's decorated to me?"

"Oh." Natasha smiled. "We're having a friend of ours paint a mural or two on the walls."

"Yeah, Hope has a few favourite Avengers, so he's gonna paint them. And he's been learning how to draw cartoon characters for it, too."

"He's actually trying to adopt the two kids he took in with his fiance."

"Steve Rogers?" Stephany asked.

"That's the guy," you said, nodding along with Natasha.

"I've seen him around the office," She spoke again a few moments later. "So, when are you planning on getting the furniture for the room?"

"Hopefully, within a month," Natasha replied, "But with our and Steve's schedules, things are up in the air."

It was a difficult start to the adoption process, more so than it was now. Considering that the children legally didn't exist to the world. So, everything was so confusing and thrown up into the air while waiting for the kids to be registered.

Almost like you didn't know whether you were coming or going. Everything stuck in limbo as you waited to see what kind of adoption process you would have to take. And even with all of your connections in the world, you were still left in the dark.

There was the fact that the kids were found overseas in Romania, so they could be considered Romanian. And so, you would have to go through international adoption.

However, none of the children have birth parents and were brought to America because you had rescued them. So, some would say they could be considered immigrants.

Nothing like this had ever happened before.

Babies that had been grown in a lab and saved from a further torturous life, that now needed legalization in the world's eyes.

You and Natasha had to watch as Government's essentially fought over these children you saved. Over the same child, you clothed and fed. The one you played games with and bonded with the little girl you grew to love and consider your own.

So, as the world fought for the right of your child, your little Hope, you waited. Just wishing and wanting to bring your daughter home.

But, luckily for you, the children were now classed as American citizens. Which made it ten times easier for you to adopt than it would otherwise.

Which is honestly just crazy to you, considering just how intensely hard this is.

There were times you didn't believe you could ever adopt your child.

On more than one occasion, Natasha would come to you, saddened to her core, because she truly believed that you would never have Hope in your family.

It was so fucking hard.

Natasha had rolled over one night after you two had -once again- gone through the rules and regulations of adopting. Uttering how you were, "Never going to get her back" that there was "Juts no way, they will let us adopt", as she cried into your arms.

But still, the process continued.

"Well, your home seems to be in good standing. So for. But I advise you to get the furniture for the child's room as soon as possible," Stephane commented as she began packing up her belongings and paperwork.

"Oh, we know."

"Steve did say that he was going to start work on it in the next few days," Natasha added, nodding along with you.

"Well, that's is good news." Stephane smiled. "I'll see you at our next meeting with Hope."

Natasha sighed happily. "We can't wait."

"Well, goodbye then."

You whished the dirty-blonde woman farewell, closing the door behind her.

"We get to see our daughter in a couple of weeks," your red-headed girlfriend said excitedly, dancing from side to side out of pure happiness. Her bright smile filling your soul with warmth, that travelled all the way into your bones.

You matched her emotions, hands coming to curve around her shoulder blades and pulling her close to you.

"I know, Honey. It's been so long since we've seen her. And we're gonna bring her home one day."

That was all you could say before your mouth was covered, with the crushing feeling of Natasha's plump lips against yours.

***

Nerves rattled through you, but you hadn't the faintest idea why, considering this wasn't the first time you had seen Hope. However, it had been one of the first times you were able to see her since the day she was taken away from you.

If you thought you were bad.

Natasha was far worse.

She was practically shaking. From nerves or excitement, you didn't know. But you had a good inkling to think that it was both.

You had done so much for this child in the short span of time you had known her.

And yet, you couldn't imagine your life any other way. The thought of how your life had been that time last year.

No Hope. Surrounded by missions and work. Every free moment you had was spent with Natasha, and the rag-tag group of hero's you had grown to call your family.

It all seemed so foreign now.

Like a past life.

'Wow', you thought, 'Maybe I really am growing up'.

A part of you was afraid that the girl you thought of as your daughter wouldn't recognise you or your []. And would be scared of the two strangers that had just barged their way into her life. Breaking both of your heart's.

"Mommy! Mommy!"

Was the thing that greeted you, as soon as the door had swung open. Making you realise just how stupid your train of thought really was.

Natasha rushed forward, scooping the girl up into her arms, with a bright smile upon both of their faces.

"So, I still don't get a name, huh?" you joked, walking over to the reuniting girls.

Brushing a hand over Hope's short hair. Grinning when she reached her arms towards you, ready to give you a hug of your own, which you gratefully accepted.

"Don't worry," Natasha said, rubbing Hope's back as she hugged you, "You'll get a name soon."

"I better. Or else I'm gonna have ta tickle it out of her."

Hope's squeals reached your ears as you threateningly poked her side with your fingers.

"Here, baby. I'll save you," Natasha called, pulling the giggling girl from your arms. Both of them watching as you pulled your hand's in front of your face, wiggling the fingers almost spookily as them. The girls turned to each other, "They're silly."

Then they walked away.

With you calling after them.

"Hey! I may be silly, but-... I have no rebuttal!"

Natasha laughed at this, then greeted the care worker that was patiently waiting for you both. The one that you had only just noticed.

"Hello, Stephany," Natasha said in greeting, shaking the woman's hand. You following suit.

"Hey. How have you two been?"

"Missing this little one," Natasha replied, bouncing the girl on her waist. Receiving fun-filled giggles in return.

"I bet you have. And you, Y/N?"

"Exhausted," you told her honestly, "With moving house and everything, I just want to have Hope home, then sleep for a week."

The care worker laughed at that.

"Let's hope that that's sooner rather than later, then."

Your few hour's with Hope passed faster than you ever could have imagined. You played with blocks, ate lunch, "helped" Hope colour in her haphazardly filled colouring book. You absolutely adored the way her eyes lit up, and she started dancing and flailing her arms when she saw bubbles for the first time. You almost couldn't continue blowing them because of your bright smile.

And now you were watching as Natasha spoke gently to the little girl. Hope's hand's resting on the red-heads cheeks, watching her mother with such concentrating eyes.

You adored your little family.

You just wished you could have them all home.

'One day', you thought, 'one day'.

Saying goodbye was one of the hardest things you've ever had to do.

Just like the last time.

And the time before that.

And the time before that.

And the one before that.

It just got harder and harder each and every time you did this.

Hope was crying. And so was Natasha, albeit silently, as she tried to console the toddler.

"I know, my little love, I know-"

"Mommy!" Hope cried.

"I know, angel. We'll be back before you know it, I promise."

"Mommy!"

"I know."

Once in the car, you let your tears fall, Natasha sobbing in the seat beside you.

"I don't think I can keep on doing this anymore," you admitted. Deciding it was best you explained when Natasha turned to look at you, an incredulous look upon her face, "Keep on seeing her, and not being able to bring her home."

"We'll get there," your [] reached over the centre console to squeeze your hand, "We will. You're the one who's always saying that we've got to take after her namesake and have hope."

"But it almost seems endless, Nat."

"I know, honey." She wetly kissed your tear-stained cheek. Her lips, brushing against it as she continued, "We'll bring her home. I just know it."

"I hope you're right."

***

She was right.

Of course, she was right.

She was Natasha Romanoff, after all.

It was like she just had this inability to be wrong.

But in this case? You were so fucking happy about that.

Granted it had taken a while longer -a good eight months- but finally, you were here.

Exiting the courthouse with Hope in your arms, and Natasha by your side. Bright smiles upon all of your faces, about to take the little girl- Your daughter home.

You would never have to say goodbye to her, like that, ever again.

She was legally a part of your family now. And nothing would ever change that.

"Ready to go home, sweetpea?" Natasha asked the beaming girl.

"I don't know about you," you started, "But I think this deserves celebratory ice cream."

"I think you just want ice cream before dinner."

You gave an overdramatic gasp.

"Why I would never! How dare you accuse me of such a thing?"

Natasha laughed at your antics but nonetheless nodded her head.

"I agree. This does deserve celebratory ice cream."

"Yes!" you exclaimed happily to Hope, your free arm raising above your head in victory, making the girl copy you by raising both of her arms.

She was already taking after you.

Your red-headed girlfriend sighed dreamily after you, as you chanted, "Ice cream! Ice cream! Ice cream!" On your way to the car.

She couldn't remember a time where she was this happy.

It had been a long time since then.

And Natasha just couldn't wait to see what the rest of her life would bring with the two of you now by her side.

***

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SFW Tag list: 

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[writemekpop]

Lipstick On Your Collar (Part 1) | Nakamoto Yuta

Pairing: Nakamoto Yuta x Reader

Summary: Till death do us part... But what happens when he cheats?  

Genre: Husband!Yuta, Angst

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Infidelity, Sexual Content, Body Image

Gif: @yuthereal​

Part 1 ⭐| Part 2  | Part 3 | Part 4

“Ten more minutes, then it’s homework time, alright?” you called to your two older sons, eight and four years old. Caught up in their wooden sword fight, they didn’t even look up.

You smoothed your hand over your face, eyes bruised from lack of sleep. Between your banking job and your three kids, sleep was a rare thing.

Just then, you felt a waft of chill air. Yuta strode in through the front door, his feathery black hair in disarray.

“Hey babe,” you called, shoulders relaxing.

Your husband had this calming presence, your island on a rough ocean. Your chest ached for Yuta’s warmth. You hadn’t hugged, kissed… touched in months.

“Hi, Y/n. We need to talk,” Yuta deadpanned.

You picked up your baby daughter Ayumi. She needed her nappy changed. Bad.

“Alright. What’s up?” You placed her on the changing mat, blowing your fringe out of your eyes.

“I mean in private.” You saw that Yuta’s face was stretched and white. A knot curled in your stomach.

“Nappies?” You lifted your hand. He begrudgingly handed them over.

“Y/n. This is serious.” Yuta’s voice quivered like a taut string.

“Can’t you see I’m busy? What is it?” you snapped. You instantly regretted it. Nowadays, you were always on the edge of an explosion.

“Okay. Fine. I’ve… messed up. And I’m sorry, and I didn’t mean it, but… it’s happened.”

You bin Ayumi’s old nappy, then pull her into your arms. “Is that all? Look, if you’ve broken something, we have insurance.”

“This isn’t a bloody plate! I’ve- I’ve done something awful.”

“Right. Well done. Anyway, I have to help the kids with their homework.”

“Just look at me, Y/n! I’m trying to fucking tell you something!” Yuta’s yell turned your head.

Yuta’s eyes were red-rimmed and wide, like he was in shock. “I… cheated on you, Y/n. I slept with someone else.”

Your heartbeat slowed to a crawl. Instinctively, you pulled your baby close.

“Who is she?”

“Diya. From the school.”

Your lips went numb. You put Ayumi down in her rocker and started rinsing plates in the sink. “How long?”

“Just once. It was a mistake, I swear… it’s just, she was there, and… I didn’t plan it!”

Your chest folded in on itself. While you were kissing your babies to sleep, Yuta was kissing someone else.

“When was it, Yuta?”

“The… day you… went to stay with your sister.”

You’d never forget that day.

It was a few weeks after Ayumi was born. You couldn’t seem to get out of bed, let alone be a good mother. So you’d escaped… just for a day.

While you were breaking apart, Yuta searched out another woman.

“Where?” You picked up the cutlery, letting the hot water scald your skin.

“Her apartment. We met up after work, and one thing led to another… I swear, that was all.”

Images burned into your mind, like a flashed camera. Yuta’s fingernails scraping the back of her neck, like he did to you. Their naked bodies gyrating, sweaty, the smell of sex saturating everything…

Your throat convulsed in a retch. For a second, it was like a brick was hitting your chest.

Then, everything stopped.

You felt a curtain dropping. You didn’t have time to deal with this. Not now. As quickly as they came, the feelings slowed. Drooped. Vanished.

You looked down. You were clenching a table knife so hard it had drawn blood. You let go.

Everything blurred. You felt like a kid again, staring up at yourself from the bottom of a pool.

Your voice was a croak. “Obviously, we’re not telling the kids. My parents are coming next week – so we can’t tell them either.”

You dried your hands and looked up at Yuta. His mouth was hanging open, like a cartoon character’s. It was almost funny.

You continued speaking, bunging toys into a basket.

“If you want a divorce, tell me now, because we’ll have to borrow money. For tonight, I’ll take the bed, you have the couch.”

“What the hell, Y/n?”

You jolt and look up. “Fine! You can have the bed.”

Yuta grabbed your shoulders, knife-cheekboned and wild. “I don’t care about the fucking bed! I just told you I cheated on you. Why aren’t you mad?”

You stared at his hands on your skin, like you didn’t recognise them. Yuta spotted your gaze, and slowly let go.

“I’m really sorry, Y/n. I want to fix this. But you need to let me in.”

You looked into his chestnut eyes and frowned. Why was he being so obnoxious?

Slowly, you spelled it out. “You cheated on me. It was with our kids’ tutor, while I was sick. You’re sorry. You won’t do it again. Now can I go and make dinner?”

Yuta blinked. Slowly. Then, he gulped and gave you a slight nod. “Yep.”

You pushed past him, and called out, “Whoever helps mummy with dinner gets ice cream!”

You ushered your eager kids towards the hob. You didn’t look back, but you felt Yuta’s gaze on the back of your head. Stunned.

------

You plastered on your brightest smile all throughout dinner, whilst laying out bedding on the couch for yourself, even whilst tucking your children into bed.

Now, you were sitting in your children’s room, with the lights out. You’d just finished reading their bedtime story. They were fast asleep.

Finally, you let the iron screen lift from your heart. Instead of fighting it, you bared the most vulnerable part of yourself.

It was a memory: you were in Paris with Yuta on the first night of your honeymoon. You were in a mid-range Travel Lodge – the best you could afford – with rain pelting at the windows.

You had woken up at 11AM, tangled up with Yuta from your cuddling. You’d talked, worried, agonised about it, but you’d never had sex with him before.

Yuta opened one sleepy eye and felt your body with his hands, as if he was checking if it was there. You tingled with lust to the tips of your toes. Suddenly, you knew the moment was right.

For once, you didn’t care about your tummy that you always tried to hide, you didn’t care about your thighs which rubbed together when you walked.

You didn’t think about anything, except the feeling of Yuta’s slow kisses, the feeling of him inside of you, the feeling of his hands reaching to the very ends of you.

You were in a hazy, golden pool of completeness. As you gasped your worries, apologies, in each other’s ears, you became whole in a way you’d never known before.

Then, the memory shattered. And in its place, before you could stop it, was the image that was burnt into your eyelids.

It played over and over again, the trailer to a movie of your shame. Yuta in her apartment, the thumping of the bedposts, him between her legs, her exclamations of ‘yes!’, that were only echoed by him moaning her name…

You screamed silently into your fist.

You knew the real reason Yuta cheated on you. Whatever excuses he made, it wasn’t a mistake or a drunk one-off.

You grabbed the soft flesh around your waist. This was why. You thought of the nights you’d told him you were too tired, that you weren’t in the mood. That was why.

You couldn’t even blame Yuta. He was only compensating for the fact that his own wife would never be attractive enough, good enough, just enough for him.

The tears rose up your throat, making your head pound and your cheeks stretch with sobs. You wanted nothing more than to drown yourself in these tears, though you knew they wouldn’t wash the pain away.

Then, you caught a grey glimmer in the darkness. Your youngest boy, Nico, was wide awake and watching you with saucer eyes.

“Hey baby… go back to sleep,” you whispered, quickly smoothing away your tears.

“Are you crying, mummy?”

The softness in his gaze was like a punch in the stomach. You choked down another wave of tears. “No, sweetie, I’m fine. Go back to sleep okay?”

Obediently, he closed his eyes. You didn’t deserve such beautiful children.

You were doubled over, silent in the darkness. You pressed your palms into your eyes, so hard they hurt, and forced the tears back.

You couldn’t even make your husband love you.

What hope did you have with your kids?

------

Three days had passed since that terrible night.

It was 10PM, and the house was unusually quiet.

You and Yuta were sitting at the far edges of the couch, the Netflix episode you never missed playing on the TV.

Both of you were pretending like nothing had gone wrong.

“So… how was work?” Yuta’s cautious voice broke the silence.

You sighed and shook your head. “Just get me a drink.” You couldn’t be bothered with this charade. But at least you could drown your feelings.

“Are you sure that’s a good-” Yuta began.

“Just get it.”

He returned with a whisky, with two ice cubes. Your heart twisted. “You remembered?”

“How could I forget my wife’s favourite drink?” Yuta gave you a thin smile, and for a second, you forgot to ice him out. You smiled back.  

That was two whiskies ago. Now, the gap between the two of you on the sofa had shrunk.

You were laughing so hard your eyes were teary.

“Do you remember, Y/n? Your shirt was on backwards, my pants were on the other side of the room, we were moaning so loud half the theme park could hear us!”

You dried your eyes, sighing. “I bet we scarred a few kids for life that day…”

Yuta’s lip curled up in a smile that sent your heart racing.

You looked down. Subconsciously, your hand was massaging Yuta’s denim-clad knee. You retracted it.

“God, we really knew how to have fun, didn’t we?” You could barely remember the time before you had your three children. It was rose-coloured.

“I mean, Disneyland was nothing. Remember Taeyong’s attic? The nightclub bathroom? I could go on…”

“Ahh!” You mimed blocking your ears. “There are kids in the house, you know!”

In doing so, you lost your grip on your whisky glass, which was balanced on your knee. Yuta grabbed it before it fell, and his hand was suddenly on your thigh.

He let go, and you cleared your throat.

That was hours back. Now, you were having difficulty sitting straight. You’d lost count of how many whiskies you’d downed.

You grabbed Yuta by the shoulders and shook him. “Look! Let’s just get it out of the way. ASAP, straight, completo. No regrets.”

For the first time in ages, your blood was running warm with more than alcohol. The worn denim of Yuta’s jeans was pulling your gaze southward.

“Get what out of the way? You’re not making sense, Y/n.”

You pulled the pin out of your hair and let it fall over your shoulders. “The big three-letter.”

Yuta looked at you, still bewildered. “What?”

“SEX.”

The glass fell from Yuta’s hand.

To be continued…

Part 1 ⭐| Part 2  | Part 3 | Part 4

[kidney9-9]

November Bet

@hollandlover19​ asked: 

Can you write something where peter is dating the reader and she’s an avenger with similar powers to Wanda meaning she can read his mind and for the past two weeks peter has been horny as fuck and it’s driving him nuts cus he made a bet with Sam and Bucky to see who could survive the longest during no nut November so he’s trying to resist the urge to jack off but the only thing that will calm him down is y/n but she had to go on an emergency mission and won’t be back till later so he just lays in his room crying cuz everything hurts sorry if this is too specific you don’t have to write it if you don’t want to 🖤

Hey there hun! Hope you enjoy! Thank you for sending this in. Just a note: I have no idea how boners feel after a certain amount of time, but I’m assuming it’s really painful since it’s a muscle straining itself?? (i think lmao) But this was interesting to write since I usually put more humor in my writing, and this one turned out sort of sad! Everyone is over the legal age in this piece.

Masterlist is linked in my bio, tags in reblog.

Peter Parker x Reader [Angst with sort of happy ending] Warnings: boner, pain and swearing Word Count: 1.6k

Peter regretted the bet so much now. 

It happened back on the 31st of October, when everyone was resting about, eating junk food and candy. Sam and Bucky had been teasing Peter for almost two weeks now after catching you and Peter getting a bit steamy in one of the weaponry rooms, and he wanted pay back. Peter thought he could control himself for a month because obviously he was able to do it before he reached puberty, so it should be fine! But fuck, did he regret it now, making a bet with Sam and Bucky to see who could survive the longest following the No Nut November challenge.

Day one was normal, he had so much confidence. He only let himself kiss your cheek though, and glance over to you when you would dress during the morning.

But now, two weeks in, he couldn’t fucking handle it. You were too hot. Tonight, was a gala event for Pepper and Tony starting a charity for children with heart problems which would start funding research into heart disease, and funding families who couldn’t afford treatments. You were wrapped in a silky flowing dress that Peter wanted to drool over. The small peaks he’d see over you twirling around, dancing to the classical music, and the fabric would outline your ass perfectly. Fuck, it was too much for him.

He had too many thoughts about it though. He wanted to reach out and squeeze you, spank you, trace every part of your body with his tongue. He wanted to devour you tonight; he wanted to fuck you out of your mind only to bring you back to another orgasm after the last.

Yes, the boner was showing very much.

It didn’t help when you’d look over to him worriedly, and he knew you could hear every single thought of his. It was your power, but you called it a curse. You spoke to him a few days before about how you heard his pleas to make love to you once again, but you reminded him of the bet and what he would have to do if he lost.

The loser had to streak and run across the outdoor gardens of the Compound at any time the winner felt like it; only once though. Peter thought about losing constantly, wishing he could lose, but he knew he shouldn’t. He couldn’t let Bucky and Sam win like that, after them teasing him for so long. It would be humiliating, sure, Peter didn’t care much about that. But he cared about it humiliating you as well, he didn’t want them to tease you about it too.

“Baby, want to leave?” You mumbled to Peter, causing him to flinch out of his trance. Peter gazed down at your body for a moment, and cleared his throat, flushing immensely while he looked away. Your curves… he was so in love with everything about you.

“Mm, yeah sorry about this.” Peter signaled down to his boner and he could just imagine how some people had already saw it and started speaking about him, but he just needed to leave. You nodded sympathetically back to him, reaching out and grasping his shoulder to comfort him.

He shrugged your hand off after a shiver went through his body, breathing heavily as another wave of lust flushed through him, “I’m sorry. I- I don’t mean to, it’s just…” He trailed off, glancing back up to your face and seeing you nodding understandably back to him.

“I know, I hear it too. Text Tony and Pepper in an hour and tell them something came up. They’ll be okay with it.” You responded, almost wanting to stay behind to talk with the two more. They were one of the funniest but loveliest couples you met.  You felt close to them, almost as if they had a parental authority over you.

“I will, thank you.” Peter whispered back, gulping nervously as he tried to adjust his forming hard on. He just needed to go take a cold shower as soon as possible, and he already started thinking of strange things.

Deformed candles. Cheetos in beans on someone’s head. Evil cartoon characters. A dictionary with misspelled words.

You giggled, shaking your head at the things he comes up with in his thinking. You walked out of the ballroom with him, distancing yourself and opting to take an uber home instead, so he didn’t feel trapped. You worried about him during this month, realizing how bad it would feel to not nut for a guy.

You wished you could help him, but he wanted to keep the bet going.

When you got back to the Compound, your alarm instantly went off and your eyes widened, realizing you had to leave now. It was an emergency mission, you quickly read through the report, seeing that one of your contacts was revealed and gave up some information that needed to stay private. You rushed as fast as you can, barely sending a text to Peter who just got back to the Compound, saying you needed to leave.

Peter finally opened the text when he fell back on his bed, still struggling. He groaned, feeling his boner build up again, just imagining you out in the field, looking so sweaty and ready for anything. “Fuck…” He whimpered, quickly sitting up. He was worried for you being out there by yourself, but he knew he shouldn’t doubt your abilities. At the same time, he was trying to stop his feelings, because it just furthered his pain.

He cupped his boner, stumbling up and thinking to himself, how long has it been now? He couldn’t help it, thinking about sex. Fuck, it was crazy he wanted to just touch you again, how much he missed touching you was driving him insane. He couldn’t masturbate, he would lose the bet.

The winner also had the benefit of getting the title, “Greatest Person of the Year”, which included perks of people not teasing him and you, and many more. It would be great to have Bucky and Sam off your backs.

He set his phone down while he turned the shower on cold, needing to get in there as soon as possible. Maybe it would work now, but he couldn’t tell if it was too late to help. He still needed you by his side. Whether it was sexual or not, he loved you and needed to be by you.

“Ouch – oh shit.” He whined, coughing as the cold water hit his bare back. He stripped himself as quick as possible, now realizing he kept his socks on. He criticized himself, why’d you leave your socks on? Why are you doing this now?

The shower didn’t help at all. Once his body got used to the temperature, he got flashes of visions of you, from missing you. He groaned out of anger at himself for doing it, and he had to stop himself from palming his boner.

He got out of the shower, rushing to his phone and dialing your mission phone, that was connected to the earpiece you wore. When it connected, he could hear you grunting as you punched one of the people that attacked you.

“P-Peter? What’s up?” You stuttered, breathing heavily as you ran down to the other room, trying to get away for a few seconds to just get your mind together to focus.

“Oh shit- I’m sorry!” Peter rambled, forgetting you were busy. He hit his head and groaned to himself, hearing you on the other side of the phone.

Stop thinking like that idiot! He reminded himself, and you responded to him after a moment of shuffling around in the corner. “It’s okay! Is everything good? You alright, babe?” You whispered, glancing around and picking up one of the objects in the room with one of your powers, focusing it by the doorway to protect yourself.

“Yeah…uh, I’ll get you go. Please be safe. I love you.” Peter sighed out, scratching his hair as he sat by the edge of the bed, hoping you were okay.

You quickly responded to him, “Love you. I’ll be back in a few hours I think, maybe 12 hours tops?” You randomly guessed the time, knowing there was a lot to do. You hung up when you heard someone’s footsteps.

Peter gazed down at his boner, now fully erect and he frowned. The blood hurt so much in his cock; he couldn’t do anything though. He laid back on the bed, his head on his pillow, still naked, knowing any clothing would hurt to put on.

He tried to focus his thinking on something else again, anything. It barely helped, and he ended up squeezing his eyes shut as the pain rumbled through his body, the soreness was too much. He felt a few tears form and start to leak down his face, and he had to remind himself everything would be okay soon.

He rolled over, doing breathing techniques, trying to calm down. The tears wouldn’t stop coming though and he bit his lip, holding back his cries. It must have been ten or twenty minutes later when he pushed the pillow over his head, now having a headache from crying and the pain.

He held the pillow close, trying to block any light from the devices in the room, crying himself to sleep as the pain worsened.

When you got back, you quickly paced over to the room, needing to check Peter. You could tell he was struggling when he spoke to you and you pouted when you opened the door, seeing him laying on the bed. It was upsetting to see him with dried tear stains on the pillows, and you leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek.

His boner was gone now, but you could tell he was probably in pain still. You laid down next to him, holding his arm softly, just hoping this dumb bet would be over soon so he wouldn’t struggle like that again.

[ssajj]

The Anchor

You own a bookstore. One day, Luke comes in.

2.1k, gn!reader. Pure fluff.

You wake up early on Monday morning feeling surprisingly refreshed. The light is streaming in through your window, your cat blinking sleepily at you when you rise. You give her a gentle kiss on her head, smiling when she starts to purr. 

"Morning, sweetie," you greet. She stays there as you get dressed. Today, you pick one of your go to outfits, knowing you'll be comfortable and confident in it. Your friends have accused you of being a cartoon character before, saying that you only wear the same couple of outfits. That's okay, though. 

By eight, you're in front of your store. It's your pride and joy, a product of working long hours at an odd assortment of jobs until you could afford to rent this space. Ever since you were little, you'd dreamt of owning a bookstore, picturing yourself sipping coffee in there while you and the love of your life watch people browse the shelves. 

You don't have a significant other, but you do have the store and a mug of coffee. Two out of three isn't bad, you tell yourself, even if it's hard not to notice that your bed is cold. 

Soon after you get inside, you flip the lights on and unlock the doors. You had a couple employees that would come in sometimes, but you always handled Mondays on your own. They were both college students, so the idea of making their Mondays even worse had made you feel bad. Besides, sometimes it was nice to be the only one. Mornings were generally pretty quiet, so it gave you time to relax and read a little bit. That's what you decide to this morning, grabbing a book off your stack of advanced copies and taking it with you to the front desk. 

An hour in, the only customer you've seen is a regular, a wonderfully sweet old woman named Ms. Thomas. She's always trying to set you up with her grandchildren in the hopes that it'll give her a family discount. You adore her. 

Not long after she leaves, a man rushes in, looking frazzled. You've never seen him before, but holy hell, is he attractive. He's somehow pulling off the tight t-shirt look without looking like a complete asshole, black curly hair windblown in a way that suggests he ran here. 

"Hey!" You chirp, putting your book down. "Can I help you with anything?"

He glances over at you like he hadn't seen you there. Figures. He was attractive enough that you probably weren't even noticeable to him. "Yes. God, yes. It's my co-worker's birthday, and I totally blanked on getting him a gift. He loves books."

"Do you know what he likes to read?" You ask, looking over at the shelves behind him like the perfect title was just going to fall on the floor. After a beat of silence, you turn your attention back onto him. He's just staring at you. "Hello? Sir?"

There's a subtle blush coloring his cheeks. "Sorry. Just- he likes pretty much everything? I've seen him read things from children books to an entire textbook on astrophysics."

You frown. "You work with a guy that reads astrophysics textbooks for fun?"

"Sure do," he replies, laughing. "I'm afraid that I'll get him something he already owns, even though he'll probably be too polite to tell me."

"Hm," you say, drumming your desk as you think. "Well, in my opinion, you really can't go wrong with Russian literature."

"I think he likes Russian literature?" The poor man looks so confused.

"Do you want me to just pick something?"

"Oh, please."

You laugh, standing up and going over to your favorite bookcase. After a few seconds, you pull a couple paperbacks and bring them back over to the man. "I'd reccomend any of these. If your friend likes Russian literature, he's definitely read all the classics, but these guys are pretty uncommon. Honestly, it's probably dumb to have them in my inventory, I just love them so much. My all time favorite Russian book is The Idiot, I-" you cut yourself off, embarasment sweeping through you. "Sorry. Just rambled a little bit at you."

He smiles warmly at you. "No, it's okay. I didn't mind."

The blush doesn't leave your face. God, did he have to be nice, too? It isn't enough that he's hot? You cough a little in an attempt to calm yourself down. "So, what are you interested in purchasing?"

"Oh, I'll just take all of them," he says, still smiling. 

"Really?"

He nods. 

You start scanning the books, telling him his total as you slide them into a paper bag. Once you're done and he's paid, you hand it over. 

"Thanks so much for your help…" 

"Y/N," you tell him. 

"Y/N," he repeats, smiling seemingly softening. "Nice to meet you. I'm Luke."

"Well, Luke, I hope your coworker doesn't already have these books."

As he leaves, you watch him. 

--

A week later, Luke comes into the shop again. He looks pretty lost, eyes wandering over until they settle on you from where you're shelving some new releases. One of your employees, Andi, is at the desk where you were last time Luke was in. 

"Hey!" You greet him. "Did your coworker like the books?"

"He did, actually!" Luke says, once again smiling at you. Maybe he was just one of those golden retriever guys or something. "He was surprised you had some reccomendations he hadn't already read."

You nod. "Well, that is part of my job."

He laughs like you said something funny. Neither of you says anything for a moment. "Do you need help finding anything?"

"No, I uh- I just wanted to thank you for your help last time."

Huh. You've never had someone come back just to thank you. It's kind of cute. "Of course."

After he leaves, Andi comes over to you, a devilish grin on their face. "He was cuuuuuute," they sing, throwing an arm around you. 

"Andi!" You laugh, lightly shoving them off with your hip. "Settle down there, buddy."

"He's totally into you! Who comes back just to thank the person who sold them books?"

You shrug. "Luke, apparently."

"Or he likes you!"

"Aren't you supposed to be working?"

--

The third time you see Luke, it isn't even at the bookstore, but rather the coffee place you frequent across the street. As you wait in line, you see him slumped over one of the tables. Once you grab your coffee, you head over. 

"Luke?"

His head whips up so fast that you worry about his neck. "Y/N! Hi! Do you want to sit down?"

You nod, taking the seat across from him. Technically, you're on your lunch, and Andi knows to text you if they're getting too overwhelmed. "You look kind of tired."

He winces. "Do I look that bad?"

"No! Sorry," you groan, covering your mouth with your hand. "I should just shut up."

"It's okay, seriously." He takes a sip of his coffee. "Work is keeping me busy."

"What do you do?"

"I'm an agent with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit," he says. 

You whistle. "Sounds dangerous. Hope you get paid a lot."

You're starting to figure out that Luke laughs with his whole body. It's terribly endearing. "It's very dangerous," he agrees. "But I love being able to help people, and my team is great. How long have you been at the bookstore?"

"Oh, I own it. Opened up last year."

"That's awesome!" He says, and it sounds like he means it. 

Andi texts you soon after, so you and Luke say your goodbyes. 

--

"You missed him!" Andi says, rushing over to you. Bo, your other employee, is standing behind them and shaking his head. "Your man was here."

"I don't have a man?"

Andi stomps their foot on the ground like you're the ridiculous one in this situation. "Luke!"

You look over to Bo for a better explanation. "Luke came in this morning and bought a book."

"Ah," you say. "What did he get?"

"The Idiot."

It's hard not to melt into the floor. 

--

The next time, it isn't Luke, but two of his coworkers. A man and a woman come into the store, asking for you by name. When Bo fetches you, they both have wide grins on their faces. 

"Can I help you guys with anything?"

"Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about," the woman says. "We work with Luke."

The man nods. "I've never actually seen Luke willingly read anything before he came here. I'm Spencer, by the way. But I don't shake hands."

"I'm Penelope!"

You've done research on the BAU since Luke told you his occupation and learned that his job deals mostly with hunting down serial killers. You cannot imagine these two people doing that. It's hard to imagine Luke doing it, too. "I'm Y/N."

Penelope smirks. "Oh, we know."

"Are you the one he bought books for?" You ask Spencer. 

He perks up like he's been waiting for you to bring it up. For the next twenty minutes, you discuss Russian literature as Penelope wanders aimlessly around the store. 

As they're leaving, you hear Penelope whisper. "Y/N would be good for him."

--

Ms. Thomas gets to meet him not long after. You're chatting with her about her family as he comes in. You feel your heart rate pick up a little bit when your gaze locks on his. 

"Who is that?" Ms. Thomas whispers, nudging you gently. "He's awfully handsome."

You shush her as Luke walks over. "You're just as bad as Andi."

Once he arrives, he introduces himself to Ms. Thomas before focusing his attention on you. "Heard some of my coworkers came by to bother you."

"They were nice! Spencer and I talked for a while. Didn't realize you'd talked to them about the store."

Luke shifts around on his feet. "Well, I mostly just talked to them about you."

"Ooooooo," Ms. Thomas butts in, causing you and Luke's cheeks to both flush. 

You turn to her. "Oh my god!"

"Fine, fine, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone," she says, beelining to Andi presumably to talk about you and Luke. 

"Sorry about her."

Luke laughs. "She seems fun."

"Trust me, she is," you shake your head. "But, uh, you've been talking about me?"

"Yeah," Luke says, holding his hand out. After a second, you realize that it's a silent request for his hand, that he hadn't just wanted to grab it with no warning. You give it to him. "I like you a lot, Y/N. I started reading The Idiot the other day. That book is like 600 pages!"

You giggle, making his smile grow even wider.

"Can I take you out on a date?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you can."

--

When Luke isn't on a case, he visits you at the bookstore every day. It's been months since the first initial date, but your heart still flutters every time you see him, every time you see his face soften when he looks at you.

You've never been in love before. You think it feels an awful lot like this, though.

"Hey, babe," he greets, coming over to give you a quick kiss. "We just landed, figured I'd come say hi before I go crash at my apartment."

"Did it go well?" You're already pretty sure it did, since someone would have updated you otherwise. But it's always good to check and see if you need to hold Luke as tight as you can. So far, it's the best way to comfort him after a bad case. 

"It did," he tells you, shrugging. "It was a tough one, but we got the guy at the end. And I got to punch him in the face."

That makes you roll your eyes, even as you grab his hands to check for bruising. There is a little bit, so you press a kiss to his knuckles. 

"Can you come by later?" He asks, looking oddly nervous. 

You smile. "Yeah, of course."

"I can handle the store if you want to go now!" Andi calls.

You and Luke roll your eyes. "Andi, you are way too invested in my relationship."

They narrow their eyes. "So?"

Luke hugs you before he leaves, burying his face against the crook of your shoulder. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Mm, okay. Love you, Y/N."

You tense up and he pulls back. It's the first time he's said it. "I-"

"Did you mean it?"

He flushes. "I mean. Yeah. Of course. You're pretty impossible not to love."

"I love you too, Luke."

[loftec]

Hi! in this prompt, could we know about Mickey's ex boyfriend or something? I think his name was Matt?

thank you for participating + pre NTW - Mickey's POV 👀

Anon: tell us about Matt

Yevgeny: his name was Mark

Mickey, pinching the bridge of his nose: Martin, and no. I’m not gonna tell you about Martin.

Narrator: little did Mickey know that he had zero say on the matter, let’s goooo.

April 13, 2013. Saturday.

Mickey is just off the L when his phone rings. For a moment, he considers ignoring the buzzing in his pocket as he lights up a cigarette and bounds down the metal steps. The list of people likely to call him is very limited, and most of that list is very welcome to fuck off to voicemail on a Saturday evening. Work can fuck off, telemarketers can doubly fuck off. On this particular Saturday, even his extended family can fuck off. It might be Martin, wondering where he is, but he can quite frankly also fuck off, seeing as Mickey is no more than five minutes away from their agreed rendezvous.

That only leaves one, and the thought alone is enough for Mickey to step out of the flow of people rushing to and from the platform, and check the damned call. Seeing the ID, he quickly picks up, pressing the phone to his ear.

”What the fuck?” he asks, unsure if he should be annoyed or alarmed and figuring this would best cover a bit of both.

”Hey dad,” his son says, unexpectedly.

”Yev?” Mickey says, inching towards annoyed. At least his son is unharmed enough to dial a phone, so it can’t be too bad. ”What’s wrong? Where’s Sonya?”

”She’s right here,” Yevgeny says, he sounds fine, normal, good, ”we can’t find the cake poking thing.”

Staring at the empty space in front of him, Mickey feels the rest of his mood swan dive head-first into annoyed. ”The what?”

”The thing we use to poke cakes, to check if they’re done? We can’t find it and we need it, the cake is almost done.”

Taking the forgotten cigarette from his lips, Mickey angles the burning end away from his face as he rubs at the deep line between his eyebrows.

”Kid,” he says, trying to sound calm, ”give the phone to Sonya.”

There are some muffled noises over the line, and then Mickey can hear his son’s distant voice. ”He wants to talk to you.”

”Hey Mickey,” Sonya comes on, breezy as anything. ”Is it supposed to be in the cutlery drawer? Been rifling through that thing for a good minute already.”

”Are you fucking kidding me?”

”What? It’s not such a weird guess, is it? I’d say it’s cutlery adjacent at least.”

”I’ve been outta the fucking house for less than forty minutes!” Mickey says, calmly. He is absolutely not screeching loud enough to have people on the street give him concerned looks. ”And you call me about some fucking–, I don’t have anything like that! Who has a thing specifically for poking cakes?!”

”Oh please,” Sonya scoffs. ”Plenty people do, you being one of them!”

He wants to point out that this is categorically not what he meant when he said ’call me if there’s an emergency’, but he’s got a feeling that this is only going to get him into an argument about the definition of ’emergency’ that he’s not going to win, and besides, he’s got bigger fish to fry right now.

”I absolutely do fucking not!” he splutters, glaring at a couple throwing him side-eye as they rush past him. ”Are you outta your mind?”

”I know you have one, because I gave it to you,” Sonya says, clanking sounds in the background from where she’s still presumably rifling through Mickey’s shit. ”Remember? When you moved in? I got it in Sweden when I was visiting for my cousin’s wedding. It was hand crafted, Mickey, you better not have thrown it out!”

”That thing?” Mickey balks, smoothly electing to not point out that they both know Sonya came home from her trip with like ten of those in her luggage and then spent the next two years giving them to all her friends and family whenever she’d forgot about getting gifts for an occasion. ”I stuck it in Merida.”

The silence on the other end of the line is palpable, and it takes a second for Mickey to hear what he just said.

”Who is Merida, and do I want to know why you stuck my hand-carved Swedish cake poker in her?”

Mickey sighs, and decides that he doesn’t have to answer that. He can try, at least. ”Tell Yev it’s in Merida.”

”I most certainly will not tell your sweet summer child that you’ve stuck the cake poker in–,” her increasingly high pitched voice abruptly falls to a hiss, ”–Merida, who is Merida?”

Luckily, Mickey can hear his son in the background, saving him from having to explain. ”It’s this thing?”

There’s another silence, Mickey takes the opportunity to smoke and accept the inevitable.

”Two questions,” Sonya says, her usual good humor back in her voice. ”One, you stuck my hand-carved Swedish souvenir in a potted plant? And two, you named the plant Merida?”

”It’s cartoon character–,” Mickey starts, before realizing what he’s saying and cutting himself off, ”I didn’t name it, obviously.”

”But you still call it by its name.”

”Whatever,” Mickey blows out a puff of smoke and can’t help smiling. Sometimes he just has to stop and take stock of how fucking ridiculous his life has turned out. And how much he fucking likes it, despite himself. ”Congratulations, you found it. Any other emergency you needed me for, or can I get back to my–”

He swallows, catching himself mid-sentence, suddenly unsure of how he intended to end it.

”–thing.”

”You’re there already?” Sonya asks, sounding genuinely remorseful now. ”Sorry, you left so late I thought for sure you’d missed the train and would still be en route, or I wouldn’t have told Yev to call. How’s the date going?”

Mickey swallows again, throat dry. He starts walking down the street in the direction of the bar.

”It’s fine, still on the way,” he says, ”and it’s not a date.”

”Like heck it isn’t,” Sonya tuts, ”you’re out on a Yev weekend for the first time since I’ve known you, and I saw that shirt you’re wearing.”

He runs a hand self-consciously along his belt, his button-down still tucked in and in place. He refuses to worry about it.

”You looked good, Mickey, I meant to tell you,” Sonya continues, and she doesn’t even sound like she’s teasing anymore which Mickey knows even less how to handle. ”And you’re undeniably on a date.”

”Shut up,” Mickey mutters and smiles to himself when Sonya laughs. Feeling a little more himself, he chucks his cigarette to the curb and stops to look across the road at his destination. ”Maybe.”

He hadn’t really considered the possibility, before Martin asked him. But the sex was always good, they got along really well, and when Martin looked up at him from his bed as Mickey was pulling on his jeans, his hair rumpled and lips still shiny, and asked if he wanted to go to some kind of hipster showcase gig together, Mickey had barely even hesitated.

”About time, too,” Sonya says. ”Was starting to think the guy wasn’t all there, taking his sweet time. Maybe he was waiting for you to ask.”

”Ey,” Mickey shakes his head, ”it’s only been a couple of months.”

”Try six! That’s half of a whole year.”

”Try minding your own fucking business,” Mickey says and frowns. Maybe it has been that long since the first time they hooked up, but it’s not like they’ve been fucking on the regular the whole time since then.

”Just happy for you, Mickey,” Sonya says, like it’s an easy thing for her to say. ”You like him, right?”

He doesn’t say yes, but he doesn’t outright deny it either, which probably tells Sonya everything she needs to know.

”Gotta go,” he says instead, ”and don’t call me again unless it’s an actual fucking emergency. See you tomorrow.”

Not waiting to see if she’s got something to say to that, he hangs up and shoves the phone back into his pocket. Staring at the unassuming building across the street, he allows himself a moment to take it all in. He’s just casing the joint before he enters, it’s normal fucking behavior. He isn’t stalling.

It doesn’t look too busy from the outside, there’s no line, and no bouncer or guard by the propped open double doors. The walls of the building are littered with layers of posters, on both sides of the doors and across the covered windows. Not much can be seen through the doors from his vantage point, but he assumes that it’s a front room leading to whatever’s going on inside the building.

There’s a guy standing off to the side of the doors, smoking. He’s got a lanyard shoved down his back pocket, ID badge dangling in clear sight. Most likely someone working at the bar, out on a break. His shoulders are hunched and he’s got a phone clutched to his ear, head bent and lips pressed together in a thin line. He nods at whatever is being said to him over the phone. Mickey looks up at the worn sign above the door.

”Fuck it,” Mickey mutters and, pushing aside the last of his niggling doubt, makes his way across the street and through the doors. It’s dark enough inside that his eyes need a second to adjust, before he quickly orients himself and heads toward the noise and lights leaking out from behind a set of swing doors beyond the coat check.

”Excuse me!” someone pipes up behind him, and he turns back to raise his eyebrows at the girl standing behind a counter by the entrance. ”We’ve got a showcase tonight, you need to buy a ticket.”

She makes an apologetic face as Mickey gets closer and pulls out his wallet.

”25,” she says when he gives her a questioning look.

”Christ,” he mutters, but forks over the money. ”This better be good.”

”We’ve got a really exciting lineup tonight, all local acts,” she says, obviously relieved now that he’s payed and she can tuck away his hard earned cash in her little lock box. ”I’m hoping I can take a break soon so I can sneak a peak of the headliner.”

She winks at him as she hands over a ticket, and he has zero fucking clue what he’s supposed to do with any of that.

”Okay?” he says and accepts the ticket. ”What’s this for? I’m already here.”

”In case you want to go in and out,” she says, and then tacks on when she seems to remember something she’s supposed to say; ”there’s no smoking in the venue.”

Mickey shrugs and pockets the ticket, biting back the urge to tell her that there’s no fucking smoking anywhere these days, thank you very much. The girl is still smiling at him when he turns his back on her and heads for the bar.

”Have fun!”

Finally inside, the place seems to be a collection of smaller rooms with some walls knocked down to make a larger, oddly shaped space. The bar is crowded, three bartenders moving around each other and pouring drinks in the narrow space behind it, and all the tables tucked away in the dark half-room next to it seem occupied. In the main room, Mickey finds the small, raised stage with a bigger crowd gathered in front of it. There’s a guy on stage, talking about something and looking like he’s about to cry while getting thoroughly ignored by a majority of his audience.

Mickey included, when he spots Martin a bit to the left of the stage. He’s talking to a couple of people he must have met in the crowd, smiling in that carefree way of his, eyes squeezed together and head tossed back when he laughs. He seems to do that a lot, laugh and talk and make friends wherever he goes. Open about himself in casual throw-away lines as he lets Mickey into his apartment, takes his clothes off, catching his breath, seeing Mickey off again. It’s nice seeing him out here, in the real world.

Maybe this could work. Mickey really should have tried harder to be on time, leaving your date to make new friends while he waits for you to show up seems like a bad move, now that he thinks about it.

Shit. Here goes nothing.

”Hey!” Martin exclaims, face lighting up with a wide smile when Mickey walks into his line of sight. He doesn’t sound upset, really doesn’t look it either when he pulls Mickey in for a quick kiss. It’s over before Mickey’s had the chance to do much else than blink in surprise.

”I’m late,” he acknowledges and hopes Martin will take the attempt at an apology for what it is.

”It’s fine,” Martin gins at him, tilting his head in the direction of the stage, ”you haven’t missed anything good.”

”– have you ever noticed that?” the guy on stage mutters into the microphone, ”I mean–, uh, I’ve noticed, that–, sometimes–”

Tuning the guy out again, Mickey looks past his date at the two people still standing on his other side, regarding them curiously.

”We got a problem?” he asks them, raising his eyebrows further when the woman just smiles at him.

”Oh,” Martin says, angling himself so the four of them make a little semi-circle in the crowd. ”My friends, Nora, Ethan, this is Mickey.”

Mickey stares at the side of Martin’s face for a moment, before he notices Ethan’s outstretched hand. He feels confused enough to grab it in a quick handshake. The woman, Nora, just keeps smiling.

”Nice to meet you, Mickey,” she says, clearly hiding something. People generally aren’t this smiley without an agenda, in Mickey’s experience.

”Sure,” Mickey says, glancing at Martin for some clue as to what he’s supposed to do now.

”You wanna go get yourself a drink?” Martin asks, pointing in the direction of the bar. ”This comedy train wreck should be over soon, hopefully.”

”Sure,” Mickey says again, wrong-footed by the whole odd situation and frustrated with himself for not being able to shake the feeling that he’s made a huge mistake.

”Go with him!” Nora says, making Martin take a half-step closer to Mickey by shoving lightly at his shoulder. ”We’ll save the spot.”

She gives Martin a pointed look and some kind of silent communication seems to happen between them, ending with her looking victorious and Martin dropping his head back with an exaggerated sigh. Then he turns to Mickey and playfully gestures for him to lead the way.

”Sorry about her,” he says once they’ve reached the bar, leaning in closer to speak directly into Mickey’s ear. The warmth of his breath makes the hairs on his neck stand on end. ”I keep telling her to back off, but she’s got it in her head that we’re doing something we’re not.”

Mickey swallows and turns his head to look at Martin when he leans back.

”And what are we doing?” he asks, and he doesn’t realize how it sounds until he sees Martin’s gobsmacked expression.

He lets out a startled laugh. ”Are we really gonna talk about this now? Here?”

And technically, Mickey agrees with him. He really doesn’t want to have the ’what are we’ conversation, and he definitely doesn’t want to have it now, here. But he’s already said it, and now he needs to know.

”Maybe,” he says and frowns when Martin just stares at him for a moment.

”I don’t know?” Martin eventually says. ”We have fun, right? I didn’t think you wanted it to be more than that?”

Mickey can barely hear his own thoughts over the noise from the bar, but he can practically feel his heartbeat in his throat. ”Do you?”

Martin makes a pained face, like it’s an involuntary reaction to the mere idea, before he shrugs helplessly and gives Mickey an uncertain smile.

”We don’t really have anything in common, Mickey,” he says. ”I don’t know, I just don’t see it going anywhere.”

”Thank you for participating,” the guy on stage says, his voice louder and verging on hysterical. It gives Mickey a reason to look away from Martin’s face for a second, hating the sympathetic twist to his lips. He feels like a fool.

”You suck!” someone yells in the audience.

”Yeah? Right back at you buddy!”

”Get off the stage!”

”Sure,” Mickey says, and nods. ”No, sure. You’re right.”

”Sorry?” Martin says and grins when Mickey rolls his eyes. ”And we can still have fun, right? Hey, I’ll buy you a drink! What do you want?”

”Anything, a beer,” Mickey tries to focus on Martin, on the list of prices pinned to the wall behind the bar, but there is suddenly too much noise, too many people, too much… stuff. ”I just gotta–”

He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say, so he stops. He doesn’t know what he wants, but getting out of this room would be a good start.

Martin looks confused, and then tuts reproachfully when Mickey pulls out his pack of smokes and gestures in the direction of the doors. He hates it when Mickey smokes, always makes him brush his teeth before they do anything. Guess that’s another thing they don’t have in common. Mickey hadn’t given it much thought.

He leaves Martin by the bar to fend for the bartender’s attention on his own and goes back outside, ignoring the surprised look on the girl by the door when he strides past her. Once outside, he’d hoped the fresh air and relative silence would knock him back on track, but it doesn’t. Everything is exactly the same, only now he can add ’running away like a pussy’ to the list of tonight’s embarrassments. He hates this, this isn’t him.

He should go back inside, show Martin and his friends that he doesn’t give a shit. Have a couple of beers, get through the night, make that asshole suck his dick until he can’t feel anything but a warm mouth and his own pleasure. But he’s not repaying any favors, not tonight, let that shithead take care of himself, since he can’t see it going anywhere. Fuck that. It’s fine.

”I know–, no, I know…”

Wrapped up in his own bullshit, Mickey hadn’t noticed he wasn’t alone. The same man from before is still on the phone, and he looks if possible even more miserable than he did when Mickey first arrived.

”That isn’t–, no, I know you didn’t… listen–”

Mickey ignores him, taking out a cigarette putting it to his lips. Might as well, he’s already out here. He lights it up. He, lights it up… come the fuck on, he lights it up. His lighter is out. Fucking great.

”Ey,” he says and turns to the guy on the phone, ”you got a light?”

The guy stares at him, and Mickey absently thinks he looks even worse up close. Like, disturbingly hot and built enough to properly toss a guy around if he wanted, but absolutely worn down by whatever it is he’s doing with whoever’s on the phone with him. Whatever, not Mickey’s problem. He shakes his empty lighter when the guy doesn’t immediately react.

”Oh,” the guy blinks, his eyes are red. He digs out a lighter from somewhere and hands it over. ”Here.”

”Thanks,” Mickey steps close enough so he can reach out and take it, and consequently hear the distant sound of a man’s voice on the other end of the line. He can’t make out any words, but the tone is unmistakable. The guy frowns and turns away slightly.

”Jesus, Jace, what the fuck?” he says, voice low and sharp. ”Are you serious right now? I’m not–, you know what?”

Mickey lights up and takes a couple of steps away to give the guy some privacy, but might still watch him out of the corner of his eye and hear pretty much everything he says. Call him a nosy bitch, but he really needs the distraction right now.

”I can’t do this right now,” the guy sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes. ”We’re on in like ten minutes and I can’t–, I can’t do this with you right now. I asked you for time.”

He listens, and whatever it is that’s being said to him seems to hit a nerve. The general air around him of annoyed resolve slowly shifts into something more resigned.

”Yeah, I know… I’m sorry,” he says, and Mickey doesn’t know him or his situation, but he knows this can’t be right. ”Tomorrow, we’ll talk. I promise. Yeah, thanks… I will. Love you, too.”

Mickey shouldn’t be listening to this, he should finish his cigarette and go back inside. Find Martin and enjoy the night, have some fucking fun. Maybe he should, but he doesn’t want to.

He wants to go home, put on some fucking comfortable clothes and watch a movie with his kid.

”Heads up,” he says and waits until the phone guy looks up before he lobs the lighter back at him. He fumbles, but catches it. ”Fuck him, you deserve better.”

The guy stares at him, and rightly so. Mickey doesn’t know why he said that, he doesn’t know anything about it. But the guy looks… he looks a bit like Mickey’s feeling, deep down and buried many times over.

He looks lost.

”You deserve better,” Mickey repeats, because he already said it and he’s nothing if not all in. The guy opens his mouth on a shaky exhale, but he doesn’t say anything. Probably thinking of ways to get away from the freak accosting him on the street with unsolicited affirmation bullshit. Which, fair enough. Guess that’s Mickey’s cue to fuck off. If the guy would just stop staring at him like that.

A hand-holding couple suddenly walks right through their intense moment, heading for the doors. Mickey comes back to himself and, thinking quick, he takes out his ticket and waves it at the couple to get their attention.

”No thanks,” the man said, probably thinking he’s trying to sell it.

”Just fucking take it,” Mickey grumbles, shoving the ticket at them.

”Uh, thanks?”

Mickey waves a dismissive hand at them, already on his way.

”Thank you!” someone shouts after him.

He can’t wait to get home. Kick off his shoes, wash out the gel in his hair. Untuck his fucking shirt. Investigate whatever that cake poking business was about, hopefully cake. Watch his kid watch a movie, see his little face light up and mouth along with the words. Absolutely ignore Sonya’s inevitable attempts to get him to ’talk about it’.

His life is fucking fine the way it is, he doesn’t know why he got it in his head to try and make it something it isn’t.

[pipedream-darling]

Live a Little

My piece for Day 2 of TGGTVAV Week! @tggtvav-week

Dreams | Historical AU | Side Character (Read on AO3)

This party is giving me a tremendous sense of deja vu. It’s the after-party for this year’s Annual Sportspeople of the Year Awards. Monty and I were both nominated for Best Footballer and for Best Media Personality, whatever that even means. Neither of us won either. I don’t care, not really (The player that did win Best Footballer scored two-thirds as many goals as Monty this season… but again. I don’t care.)

The same old formal wear, the same faces. I feel like I’m always at this bloody party. I’m standing in a corner with Monty, who is frowning down into his alcohol-free cocktail. I give him a consolatory nudge.

“Next year.”

“Hmm?” He looks up at me, then laughs. “Oh god. I don’t care. I’m just wondering who on Earth came up with the idea of a virgin mojito.”

“You could always drink tap water, you know.”

“Thrilling.”

I roll my eyes and he sidles up to me, pressing himself against my chest so that he has to stretch his neck to look up at me.

“Let’s go hooooome.”

“Why do you even bother coming to these events if you get bored after an hour?”

“Because I get to see you all dressed up, mostly.” I laugh and he pouts. “Next time, we stay home, and you put on a tuxedo anyway.”

“That would be a waste. You’d take it off within minutes.”

“That’s the fun of it!”

I smirk and lean down to kiss his forehead. “We won’t stay late. It’s good for me to do the rounds at these things. For the Foundation.”

“I suppose,” he says with a sigh, but he doesn’t move away, just buries his face in my chest.

I smile and stroke his hair, then I look up as someone walks over— my heart sinks. Richard Peele. The only man on Earth who doesn’t manage to look attractive in a tux. I nudge Monty slightly and he stands up straight.

“Incoming,” I mumble as Richard approaches. Monty turns to see him, then swears under his breath.

“Boys!” Richard says, his grin as cocky as ever. His aftershave is overpowering. Not for the first time, I wonder how Monty ever hooked up with him without gagging.

“Richard,” Monty greets him, more politely than he deserves.

“Congratulations on your awards!” He fake gasps, clutching his hands to his chest. “Oh wait! You didn’t get any.”

“Peele…” I raise an eyebrow at him. “You weren’t even nominated.”

He shrugs. He looks drunk. “Wouldn’t have wanted a nomination. Whole thing is shit anyway.”

“Well, we’re agreed there.”

“So, what are you two doing hiding away in a corner? Up to no good? What’s the current favourite, Montague? Coke? Speed? I remember your speed phase fondly. You used to be able to go for—“

“Oh, piss off Richard,” Monty cuts in, trying to look unbothered. But I know he isn’t. “Don’t you have any actual friends to talk to?”

I put my arm around Monty’s waist, protectively, and he leans into me. Richard rolls his eyes.

“Got plenty of friends, thanks. Just wanted to check in on everyone’s favourite couple.”

“Well, now you have.” I say, giving him a pointed look. “See you around.”

He curls his lip at me, stepping closer. He’s taller than Monty, but not taller than me. I have a couple of inches on him, but he’s clearly too wasted to be intimidated by this fact.

“You don’t scare me, Newton. We’re not on the pitch now. You can’t accidentally elbow me in the face this time.”

No, but I can definitely punch you on purpose, I think to myself.

I don’t say anything. He huffs, then turns to Monty. “If you ever get bored of this fairy,” he points to me. “And fancy a go with a real man again, you’ve still got my number.”

Monty blinks at him. “I’ll bear that in mind. Cheers.”

Richard gives him a leery look up and down, before giving me one last glare, then stalking away. I can feel Monty’s shoulders tense up where he’s leaning against me, and I’m not much better myself, so I take a deep breath and try to relax.

“Christ. He’s like a cartoon villain.”

“Was he always that ugly?” Monty looks up at me. “I swear he didn’t used to be that ugly. I categorically do not sleep with ugly people.”

“Maybe your standards just got higher after you met me.” He laughs slightly. But it sounds stilted. I squeeze his waist. “Don’t let him get to you.”

“I’m not.”

I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Okay! I am. Slightly.” He sips his drink, pulling a face. “It’s hard not to be bothered when one of your most shameful regrets can walk and talk and embarrass you at parties.”

“He’s just someone you hooked up with. It’s not that big of a deal.”

He scoffs. “You look like you want to scream every time his name is mentioned.”

“Well… he’s…”

“Rude? Obnoxious? Untalented?”

“He makes you feel bad about yourself. I don’t like it.”

Monty pauses at that, reaching out and squeezing my hand.

“You’re the one he called a fairy.”

“Fairy and proud,” I say with a shrug. Monty laughs.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.” I tug at his hand, pulling him away. “Let’s find you something less disgusting to drink”.

We’re standing at the bar, Monty trying to get the perfect selfie while the bartender makes our drinks. He leans into me, trying to get my face into the photo and I smirk.

“Aren’t people bored of seeing me on your Instagram?”

“Why would anyone ever get bored of seeing this face?” He gently bites my cheek, taking another few photos, then finally brings the phone down to review the results. “God, we’re hot.”

I laugh. “Is that what you’re captioning it?”

He starts typing. “Well, now I am.”

I grin and nudge him, then frown when I spot something on the bar a small distance away. A set of keys. I reach over and grab them.

“Someone left their keys.”

“Mmm,” he replies, still busy making his post. “Hand them in.”

I shrug, about to get the bartender’s attention, when Monty glances up then gasps, grabbing my arm.

“Wait.” He snatches the keys from me. “Look!”

He holds them up in front of my face and I frown. “What?”

He huffs, then points at the car key. It has a very tacky leather tag hanging off it, with a gaudy metal Lamborghini logo.

“These are Peele’s car keys!”

I laugh. “God, he really is drunk. We should probably keep hold of them so he doesn’t try to drive home”

Monty winces slightly, and I immediately feel bad, but then he shakes it off. “Don’t you see what an opportunity this is, Perce?”

I give him a look. “Opportunity?”

“Yes! We have that prick’s car keys!” He looks at them, sighing happily. “His beloved Lamborghini.”

I laugh. “And?”

“And! We could play all sorts of tricks on him. We could break into it. Leave his lights on. Drain his battery.”

“You are truly wild.”

He huffs. “Well, what’s your suggestion?”

“My suggestion was handing them in!”

He rolls his eyes, dumping them on the bar again and returning his attention to his phone. I pick up the keys, turning them over in my hands, and I think back to ten minutes ago, when Richard dragged his eyes over Monty’s body. My Monty’s body. Suddenly the need to piss him off is overwhelming.

Why do I always have to be the sensible one?

“However…” Monty looks up at me, raising an eyebrow. “I have always wanted to drive a Lamborghini.”

* * * *

We manage to sneak out without drawing too much attention (and without spotting Richard), taking the lift to the car park beneath the building.

His car isn’t hard to spot. Bright yellow amongst the sea of silver and white Mercedes and BMWs. We walk over to it and Monty looks unimpressed, leaning down to scrub at a little scuff with his sleeve.

“This car is a midlife crisis.”

I laugh. “He’s 26.”

“Well, it’s definitely compensating for—“

“I don’t want to know,” I cut in, leaning down to look in the windows. “I think it’s gorgeous.”

“Really?” He folds his arms, tilting his head at the car. “It’s no Porsche.”

“I swear you love that car more than you love me.”

“Absolutely not.” He walks over and leans down to where I’m crouching to kiss me on the cheek. “But it’s a close second.”

I smile, then hold up the keys. “So? Shall we?”

He frowns. “You were serious?”

“Why not?”

“Well, for a start… you can’t drive, Perce.”

I scoff, pressing the key unlocking the doors. “I’ve had some lessons. And I haven’t had a seizure in a year. Anyway, it’s an automatic. How hard can it be?”

I start to climb into the driver’s seat and Monty grabs my arm. “Perce!”

“Come on!” I grin at him. “Live a little.”

He furrows his brow, but then lets me go, and I slide into the seat, pulling the door shut behind me. A couple of moments later, Monty opens the passenger door and climbs in, mumbling to himself.

“I’ve lived plenty. This is just stupid.”

I look around the car, taking it in. Monty’s car is gorgeous, but this is next level. Every bell and whistle included. It’s a shame it smells like Richard’s pungent aftershave.

I put the key in the ignition and Monty flinches.

“Are you sure, baby?”

I start the engine, and then I grin at him. It must be contagious, because after a pause, he grins right back at me.

“Go on then,” he says, with a resigned shrug. “Show me what you can do.”

I surprise myself. Driving is… surprisingly easy? And this thing can go fast. The roads are thankfully quiet, and I’m pretty sure I’m speeding, but the adrenaline rush is impossible to deny.

Monty is watching me, laughing at the look on my face as I narrowly avoid hitting another kerb. Okay, maybe driving is sort of hard.

“Jesus, Perce!”

“Oops.”

“I hope you’re enjoying your little crime spree. It might be the last thing we ever do.”

I laugh. “Oh, he’s wankered. We’ll take it back in a minute and he won’t even know it was gone.”

“True. As long as you don’t—“ He gasps as I very barely avoid scraping someone’s wing mirror at the side of the road. “Damage it!”

“I won’t!”

“You know what, I resent that you’ve turned me into the reasonable one tonight, but I think I should probably drive us back. Just in case.”

I pout at him. “Five more minutes? Oh, wait! I have an idea.”

I take a left, so sharply that Monty has to grab onto the car door to keep his balance. He shoots me an annoyed look, but I don’t acknowledge it. I’m trying desperately to remember a certain spot I know of around here, and I think I’m vaguely headed in the right direction.

Monty stops trying to object. I think he’s enjoying this really— watching me cut loose a bit. I glance at him and he bites his lip, giving me that look that usually ends with at least one of our trousers around our ankles. I look back out of the windscreen and grin to myself when I see what I was looking for.

I pull up in a parking spot, braking far too aggressively, and we both jolt forward.

Monty takes a long, deep, relieved breath as I put on the handbrake.

“See? No one died.”

“I’m definitely driving us back.”

I shrug, then motion out of the window. “Do you recognise this?”

“It’s a hill, Perce.”

I frown. “It’s Primrose Hill. Remember? We had a picnic here.”

He pauses, then smiles. “This is where you asked me to move in with you.”

“Yep!”

He looks at me. “Baby, you really are a wonder. Combining a bit of grand theft auto with a romantic trip down memory lane.”

I laugh. “The duality of Newton.”

“This is very sweet.” He reaches out and squeezes my knee, giving me a fond look. “Thank you.”

“I just… I don’t like it when people drag up your past. Like it’s all you are. You’re… this. You’re picnics, and house keys, and romance. You’re all of it.”

He swallows, looking surprised. “Baby…”

“Don’t let anyone ever convince you otherwise, okay? Especially not Richard sodding Peele.”

He nods, and his eyes look a little wet, then he reaches for my hand, holding it up to his lips and kissing my fingers. “Okay.”

We share a smile, then Monty turns away. I stare at him. He takes a while to notice, too busy gazing out of the window. When he finally turns back to me, he starts slightly.

“What?”

“Did you and him ever…?”

He frowns. “I thought we’d already established this, darling.”

“No. I know.” I nod towards the backseat. “In here?”

He turns a little red, then looks away again, which is answer enough.

“Great. Nice.”

Monty huffs, looking at me with a sheepish look on his face. “Only a blowjob or two...”

I roll my eyes, tapping my hands on the steering wheel and staring out at the view in front of us for a few seconds. Then I shrug.

“Then we’ll just have to do more than that. Won’t we?”

He pauses, then frowns. “Eh?”

I lean over the centre console and take his face in my hands, kissing him. After a brief pause, he sighs against my lips and kisses me back harder.

“You really—“ he speaks between kisses, breathless. “Want to?” He stops to nip at my jaw. “Right here?”

I groan. “More than anything.”

“Revenge shag?”

“Revenge shag,” I confirm, starting to pull his shirt out of where it’s tucked into his trousers.

“There’s…” He sighs as I start to kiss his neck. “People could see.”

I bite down slightly and he gasps. “The windows are blacked out.”

“There’s not much room.”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

He gasps as I find the lever on his chair, pulling it until he’s practically horizontal, and then I clumsily clamber over onto his lap, my legs either side of his.

He laughs in surprise, putting his hands on my thighs. “What the hell has gotten into you tonight?”

“Nothing.” I grin. “Yet.”

After, I lie on Monty’s chest and I can feel the dopey smile on my face. He’s gently twisting one of my curls around his fingers as we catch our breath.

“That was fantastic,” I say with a sigh. It’s stating the obvious. It’s always bloody fantastic.

He kisses the top of my head. “Obviously.”

I look up at him. “Better than Peele?”

“Peele who?”

I laugh. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I. Never heard of him.”

“Damn right.”

I lean up to kiss him and he gently strokes my cheek, then we both jump when we hear a buzzing sound. Monty grimaces, fumbling around on the seat around us trying to find his phone.

“Who calls people?” He finds it and holds it up. “Ooooofe.”

He grimaces and turns the screen to me. Peele is calling. There’s an eye-roll emoji next to his contact name.

I grimace back at him. “Shit. Why would he be calling you?”

“Perhaps because he pissed us off and then his car disappeared?”

“Should you answer it? Maybe you should answer it.”

He scoffs. “And say what? Oh, your car? Yes, we stole it and just did something filthy on the expensive leather.”

“Well, no. You can lie. I’m pretty sure you’re capable of lying.”

“Ouch! True. But ouch.” He takes a deep breath, then answers. “Richard!”

I hear muffled, angry talking. Monty bites on his lip to stop from laughing, before trying to get a word in between the ranting.

“Richard, I— What do you mean? Which car?” The muffled talking gets louder and Monty grins. “Oh, that car! Well, how did you manage to lose that? Seems pretty irresponsible.”

“Very careless,” I whisper in agreement.

Monty puts a hand over my mouth, still smiling, then suddenly his face falls. “Tracking device?”

My eyes widen. Shit. Shit shit. Of course, there’s a tracking device. This car is top-of-the-range ridiculous.

“Well, that’s good then.” Monty continues, somehow managing to sound calm and collected. “You’ll find it easily. Good luck!” He hangs up. “We need to get out of here. Immediately. He’s waiting for a cab and he knows where the car is”

I scramble off of him as quickly as I can, climbing back into the driver’s seat and looking for my clothes. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Monty does the same, laughing. I shoot him a look.

“What’s so funny?”

“You. Panicking. Naked.”

I find this shirt and throw it at his face. “Twat.”

I find my boxers and pull them on, and Monty picks his own up from where they were discarded in the well of the passenger seat. I suddenly have a thought, and reach out to grab his arm before he can pull them on, too.

“Wait.”

I snatch them from him and he gives me an extremely confused look. I lean over into the back seat and place them on the leather, stretching them out so that they’re nice and displayed.

“A departing gift for our gracious host.”

Monty cackles, throwing his head back. “You’ve completely lost your mind.”

I grin at him. “Is it a problem?”

He pulls me in for a wet, sloppy kiss. “Absolutely not. Now come on.” He pushes me away again and starts pulling on his suit trousers. “We have to clear out of here before—”

There’s a sudden, loud sound, like fabric ripping. We both freeze. I look down and see that the button of Monty’s trousers has caught on the corner of the passenger seat. The leather has torn dramatically, showing the foam underneath. Turns out even the most expensive, luxury cars are no match for Monty’s clumsy streak.

I look up at him. “Before what, love?”

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Well, this has turned into a very expensive night out.”

“We can afford it.” He opens his eyes, then narrows them at me. “I’m aware that’s not the point.”

“This was your idea, you know. You decided to have a naughty streak, and now we have to buy— No. Actually. You have to buy Richard bloody Peele a new car.”

I scoff. “It’s just a little rip. It’s not like we’ve trashed it.”

And then… I picture it; Richard, hopping in an uber to where his little tracking device is pointing him, furious, that spiteful face all red and flushed. He gets here and Monty and I are long gone, his beloved Lamborghini is… trashed. The windows are smashed. The seats are ripped to shreds. And Monty’s Tom Ford pants are on the backseat.

I smile.

“We should trash it.”

Monty laughs, pulling on his shirt. “I’m cutting you off. No more carnage. We’re going to go home, you’re going to have one of your sad little sleepy teas, then we’re going to bed.”

“Montttyy,” I whine, and he gives me an incredulous look. “It’ll be funnnn!”

“Of course it would be fun! It would also land us in prison.”

“No one would know it was us!”

He points to the underwear on the back seat. “Have you never seen CSI?”

“Since when were you such a spoilsport?”

He stares at me, one eyebrow raised in challenge, then slowly reaches down and tugs at the rip in the seat, making it even wider.

“Oops.”

I grin, turning around in my seat and looking for something to break. I look back forward, spotting the rear view mirror, then I lean up and grab it, yanking at it hard until it snaps off in my hand.

Monty gapes at me.

“Holy shit.”

I grin at him. “Shall we see what else we can break in the next five minutes?”

The answer is quite a lot, apparently. The seats are torn to shreds. The dashboard is cracked. Monty has scraped a key all along the exterior. And I’m currently working on burning holes in the leather seats with the dashboard lighter, still wearing nothing but my underwear.

Suddenly, I hear a very high pitched shriek. I abandon the lighter and scramble out of the car to check on Monty, who was halfway through trying to pull off one of Richard’s wiper blades. He’s now ducked down, hiding behind the bonnet of the car. I quickly join him.

“What?”

“He’s here! I just saw an uber.”

“Shit. How did he get here so quickly? Maybe we were shagging longer than we thought?”

He hisses at me. “Not really relevant right now, Perce. More worried about getting out of here without him seeing us.”

I grimace. “I left my clothes in the car.”

“Then I guess you’re streaking. Come on.”

He quickly glances over the hood of the car, then once he decides the coast is clear, he grabs my hand and pulls me up.

And then we immediately collide with Richard Peele.

He seems to have snuck up from the other direction and well… he doesn’t look terribly happy.

“What—“ He’s so angry, he can barely get his words out. “In the name of fu—“

“Richard!”

God bless Monty for attempting to be charming, even at a time like this.

“Awful news! Someone was trying to damage your car. Me and Percy scared them off.”

“How stupid do you think I am, Montague?”

“I don’t think you want me to answer that.”

Richard hisses through his teeth, stepping closer to Monty, and I decide it’s time to intervene, standing in front of him protectively. .

“Don’t even think about it.”

He curls his lip, looking me up and down. “Why are you naked?” He glances back at the car, then at me again, his face turning white. “Did you two...“

I smirk. “Twice.”

(It’s a lie. But he doesn’t need to know that.)

He looks like he wants to throw up. Then he pulls back his fist— but he’s still tipsy, and his reflexes are slow. So, I take a step back to dodge his punch, before reeling my own fist back to throw one of my own.

It connects with his nose. Hard. Kickboxing is one of my favourite workouts and I’m twice as strong as he is. The result being that his nose starts to bleed instantly and he staggers backwards. Monty yelps behind me.

“Shit!”

He tries to pull at my arm but I ignore him.

“Not bad for a fairy, right Peele?”

“Perce!”

“Monty, it’s fine.”

“No! Percy! The car!”

He pulls my arm even harder and I finally turn around. The car. The fucking car is on fire.

“Jesus! What happened?”

“Not sure, but shall we try and figure it out somewhere further away from the flaming car?”

I let him drag me away and we take off at a sprint. Richard isn’t far behind us, trying to keep up.

“The lighter,” I shout to Monty. “I dropped the lighter on the seat!”

The amount of serious crimes I’ve committed today is becoming difficult to keep track of. Car theft. Reckless driving. Public Indecency. Assault. And now apparently a bit of semi-accidental arson. But are they really crimes if the only victim is Richard Peele?

“Save it for court!” Monty replies.

When I think we’re a safe distance away, I stop, pulling Monty to me. We’re both gasping, out of breath. I hear Richard coughing nearby. He must have inhaled some smoke.

I ignore him, pushing Monty’s hair out of his eyes, then cupping his face in my hands.

“Are you okay?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?”

I grin. “I’m amazing.”

He smiles back, exasperated. “You’re a lunatic is what you are.”

“I love you.”

He shakes his head, then puts his hand behind my neck, pulling me down into a kiss. I lean into it, my hands sliding to his waist and dipping him slightly, making him laugh against my lips.

And then… there’s a loud bang.

I don’t get the chance to glance over at the car before we’re being thrown into the air by the force of the explosion.

* * * *

I wake up with a flinch so huge that the bed shakes. I hear Monty groan next to me.

“Baby, what…?”

Jesus Christ, that was vivid. I can still smell the smoke.

Monty rolls over to face me with a huff. “Perce?”

“Sorry.” I rub my face. “Sorry, I was…”

“Dream?” he asks, mid-yawn.

I pause, then smirk. “Dream.”

He stares at me for a second, then snorts. “Oh god, not the car one again.”

“The car one.” I shuffle over to him, pulling him closer so that our noses are touching. “It was a good one. This time I punched him.”

He gives a sleepy laugh. “This dream almost makes me feel sorry for the man…”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Monty…”

“I mean. Your subconscious is regularly ruining his life! Just because he used to give your boyfriend the occasional hand job after a game…”

“Perhaps the next dream will be the one where I finally murder him.”

He laughs, leaning in to kiss me and placing his hands on my chest. “Your heart is still pounding.”

I blush. “It was fun. There was an explosion.”

He rolls his eyes. “We’re never watching Die Hard before bed again.”

I laugh, rolling on top of him and making him yelp.

[magnusgoetia]

Transcript of a Sinner’s Conversation: A Meeting with Caecus

--Begin (In Medias Res)--

Sinner: You kiddin'? Dyin' was the best thing that's ever happened to me.

Caecus: There’s nothing you left behind? No family to miss?

Sinner: My family? Fuck 'em, I'd ‘ave hired 'elp to kill 'em already if it meant they'd be dead-dead, and I wouldn't have to spend time wiv 'em down 'ere. It wouldn't be right for me to force this on my friends either, but they'll be 'ere in due time anyway. I can wait.

Caecus: So, you’re expecting your friends to join you here as well. The wait must be awfully lonely.

Sinner: Ah, not really. I’ve made friends while I’m ‘ere. The shit I can do ‘ere is like, fucking magic and with it I can make up for what I lack in a lot of different ways. Just wish I could remember how I ‘ad died.

Caecus: Maybe it’s better not to remember… Not all of us intended to be here, after all.

Sinner: No. No, perhaps it’s best not to remember. I quickly found out that it's not just evil folks that end up here, lots of good folks, plenty of weird ones too. I'm sensing you’re of the “gooder” ones, you radiate...well, it’s 'ard to describe, but I don't sense any hostility from you at the very least, even though you were born ‘ere.

Caecus: How amiable of you. But remember, a birth is just a new beginning of sorts. You couldn’t have been alone since you were… delivered to us.

Sinner: Ah, you’re a poetic type aren’t ya? Anyway, I’ve not made many friends but I do ‘ave a particular fondness for this one clown...me an' 'im seem to 'ave this weird connection wiv each other. Actually, he's more of a jester type, though rather embarrassingly his name escapes me...

Caecus: Are you, by chance, referring to an imp named Blocko?

Sinner: Yeah, don’t surprise me you know ‘im. He seems like the type to ‘ave a particular reputation.

Caecus: That he does, and yet a divine will connects us. I’m being led to believe your intriguing appearance has an even more… intriguing history.

Sinner: Riiiight...Well, you know what they say about skeletons and closets. Though I suppose I ‘ave nothing to hide ‘ere...Well, to put it simply, I was a broken kid. I never got help, and I did... unspeakable things to anyone who ‘ad wronged me—or simply didn't like.

Caecus: Even the purest of souls can be corrupted by another’s sins.

Sinner: Yeah...Well, it's not like I'll stop doin’ what I did while I was alive, with all that murder and hedonism. Though death has a way of humbling some people...In any case, the murders mostly stopped as I grew older. I seemed to have preferred to just traumatise people instead, ruin lives of the people I saw as bad or evil.

Caecus: Then you found a different punishment for those you had judged.

Sinner: I suppose so. A lot of it involved me spying on groups of people. I'd worm my way into the seedy societies that thought they were safe in their little circles and collect dirt on them. Really sick shit too by the way but don’t worry, the hypocrisy wasn’t lost on me either.

Caecus: Oh? You judged yourself a hypocrite yet continued along a path of self-appointed righteousness... Why?

Sinner: I don’t know, maybe a sense of catharsis? A lot of these were people who I wouldn’t have to feel guilty about killing or whatever. Sometimes it was more personal too, there were—still are people I am attached to up there that got hurt, and I took my revenge on them in their place.

Caecus: Ahh, how noble. Fighting for your friends.

Sinner: Yeah, there was this one particular bastard. Actually, there were a few…but…eh, nevermind…this one particular guy who was essentially lying to one of these “friends” and caused them a psychotic breakdown. I didn’t take action right away, but I did end up killing ‘im. Didn’t even bother hiding the fact it was a murder.

Caecus: What made you wait?

Sinner: Money, mostly. It makes the world up there spin, and you need a lot of it to get anything done, right? Well, I ‘ad to wait until I ‘ad enough money to fly to the states on top of all that shit involved in immigratin’. When I settled in, that’s when I made my move on a buncha grudges. This guy was just the first. Moving to the states made my life a lot easier in some ways. Was a lot easier to sleep when I took care of the grudges too.

Caecus: Oh, wow. You must have had remarkable resolve to keep a “grudge” that long… Tell me, did all of them truly deserve it?

Sinner: No, most didn’t, but I am…was, an angry person. I found I was very much capable of venting my anger, to put it mildly, and I was much too young when I had...shall we say...discovered it.

Caecus: Young minds are impressionable.

Sinner: Right, and the fact that I was generally good at getting away with it made me feel just that little bit better about it.

Caecus: So, you exploited that validation to continue justifying your actions. Most sinners in your position never reach awareness...

Sinner: Yeah? I’ll take that as a compliment, but I was totally emotionally disconnected when committing my crimes. Afterwards I pretty much always dealt with conflict. Cognitive dissonance is a bitch. Though I had largely stopped my ways. I’m ‘aving way too much fun down ‘ere, and even though I won’t drag ‘em down here with me, I’d love to have my friends join me eventually.

Caecus: Would they be pleased being here, embrace this existence like you have?

Sinner: I dunno, some of them have a hard enough time as it is with one existence, I doubt they’ll be too happy to find out there’s another waitin’ for ‘em. The others I’d imagine would be quite surprised all the same, being atheists and such, but I reckon they’d come to like it.

Caecus: An existence you cannot escape is itself a prison. Albeit, choosing to enjoy it in spite of that perspective is a marvelous thing. If you could imagine them in your presence, what would you do?

Sinner: Again, I dunno. It’s hard to tell when they’re not here yet but I am somewhat interested in what’ll end up happening should they get here. I dunno if I’ll be able to tell if it’s them even.

Caecus: And how do you dare to enjoy existence now?

Sinner: Well, I’ve been doing everything I’ve ever wanted to do but could never do in life amongst other things. It’s kinda embarrassing, but I played a bunch of video games, so I miss those quite a bit. I’ve found plenty of ways to fill that void though. Some of your movies are pretty sick down ‘ere, and importing goods from the other rings to ‘ere means I don’t miss out…mostly, on their fun too. I just wish I could explore the other rings; I don’t get why us sinners can’t.

Caecus: Decretum is often difficult to understand. However, it would seem a blessing that you’ve been placed with the multifarious company of the pride ring.

Sinner: True enough, whatever that means. There’s a lot of strip clubs, greedy businesses and shit, stuff you think you’d only find in the other rings. Though I think I probably would’ve ended up in wrath if we landed in the rings based on our sins.

Caecus: Most catechisms view wrath as an excessive anger. You strike me as having more control than the average sinner.

Sinner: A lot of people on the surface woulda said the same too, I was and I suppose still am really good at keeping it in check, well, good enough to not make it obvious anyway. Though it’s been a lot tougher down here.

Caecus: This is a realm of collective temptation, after all.

Sinner: My only judge here is myself and perhaps my peers if I let them. I still kill down here, but it’s been in self-defence. I don’t think I’ve killed anyone out of anger yet but let’s just say I’d feel sorry for the poor sod who happened to piss me off on a bad day.

Caecus: You’ve always been your own judge. I suspect the lack of good comparisons for your behavior here has coaxed you further.

Sinner: Actually, I could tell you about the first person I “killed” down here. It was soon after I woke up. I suppose this guy thought it’d be easy—fresh sinner, just in time to be another tally mark on some statistic.

Caecus: A second death, the lake of fire…

Sinner: Uh...yeah, I reacted on instinct and it musta been a sort of “kiss of death” type shit. I only touched the dude with my hand, and he just kinda…shrivelled up and died. You know…like when a cartoon character eats a lemo—ah sorry, you can’t watch TV.

Caecus: Ah, yes… a shrivelling death is nevertheless descriptive.

Sinner: Anyway, I have a bunch of other powers too but that one I’m most afraid of you know? I can drop the ambient temperature of an area so shit gets cold, have some form of telekinesis and a buncha other stuff, like I have some kinda control over this weird glowy energy, it’s how I have my eyes, which are purely for show, I don’t need them since I can see perfectly fine without ‘em...not that you’d know I even have ‘em.

Caecus: I’m aware you observe our world, in a traditional sense. My observations are just a bit more… unorthodox. And I feel as if your fear is not from a lack of understanding.

Sinner: Well I seem to have it under control, but I’m afraid in a moment of weakness I might react without thinking, you know? I’ve not had it happen yet, but it would be so easy when flippin’ out that I just give ‘em the ol’ touch of death.

Caecus: Even a king’s heart is just a stream of water to the hand of… fate.

Sinner: Gonna be honest, I haven’t the foggiest of what you just said. Though if I’m being honest myself, I couldn’t care less if it was someone I didn’t know anyway. Only really care about my friends and such. You seem pretty neat yourself.

Caecus: The impression is mutual. It’s not often that I’m seen as anything other than senseless and intimidating. I don’t find it unwarranted, granted; my appearance is as disconcerting as my psyche.

Sinner: How do you even know what you look like? It’s not like you can just look into a mirror.

Caecus: I was presented with a vision soon before I arrived, my last blessing I suppose… Regardless, my rebirth is a tale for another time. I’ve relished in your company long enough, and I must answer my calling. I’m sure our paths will converge again.

Sinner: Hey, I hope so too...uh....

Caecus: Please, call me Caecus.

Sinner: Well, it’s only polite to give you my name too. I go by many names here, but I am quite fond of “Mr. Death” as silly as it sounds.

Caecus: Silly, yes, but very becoming of you. A pleasure, Mr. Death.

Mr. Death:Well, don’t let me keep you. I’d like to see you again sometime, Caecus. I’ll take my leave.

Caecus: All in due time.

--End--

[we-want-mini-mini]

I have this short one shot in mind. It’s essentially abt the entire Batfam gathering up together (and its also the anniversary of Jason’s death but that’s kinda jus a background detail).

Anyways, everyone gathers round the dinning table, eating, laughing, etc etc. And when I mean everyone, I fucking mean all the Batkids, which include but are not limited to:

Dick

Jason

Tim

Damian

Stephanie

Cassandra

Duke

Barbara

Anyways, Alfred and Bruce are obvi there as well, eating, and talking and stuff.

Suddenly, some fucking kid bursts through the fucking window, does a mid-air flip, and lands smack dab in the middle of the dining table, on their hands, which is conveniently holding onto this package.

All hell breaks loose, as various Bats (and birds!) start throwing various items. Then this kid sends out this weird ass pulse, that makes everything freeze in place. Only this kid and move.

The kid slowly floats up, cross legged in the air, moving a batarang, and throwing knife away from their face. They announce, “Hello, the Wayne Family and Friends! Who are also... Gasp, the infamous Bat and Bird themed Vigilantes of Gotham?! Now, to quote John Mulany, “we don’t have time to unpack all of that” which is fine! ...Why are none of you responded—oh sorry! I froze you all in place, my bad.”

The kid snaps their fingers, allowing the Batfam & Co. talk but their still frozen in place. Immediately Damian starts antagonizing the Kid. The Kid responses by literally zipping close Damians mouth like a Looney Toon cartoon.

The Kid sighs but continues on, “C’mon now! Don’t shoot the messenger as they say, whoever they is that is. Anyways, I have a package for one: Jason Peter Todd!”

“Who the hell sent you?” Jason askes.

The Kid shrugs, “No clue, they sent it in anonymously. Though, from what I know, there is a card inside the package so that might offer you some clues.”

“And what exactly are you?” Bruce inquires.

The Kid’s lips stretch out as wide as they can go, their pearly white, jagged teeth on display. Their eyes glow slightly red, as their neck cranes forward at a tilt. Their neck seems to extend a lot further, and their face tilts at an inhuman angle. They open their mouth, with rows of teeth on display for everyone too see.

“Why don’t you find out?” Their once chriper, goofy, kid like voice contorts into a deep, distorted version. Everyone freezes, at the Kid simply stares back at Bruce before their fave goes back to “normal” as they laugh their collective ass off.

“Ahaha... You know, that trick never does fail to make me laugh and all of you freeze in fear—then again, your already frozen but still!”

The Kid continues, their face still stretched out in a smile. A smile a little to sharp and inhuman for them. “But, you should know that’s quite a rude thing to ask! Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?! Then again, they are dead.”

A beat of silence.

“What? Too morbid? Seriously, what a tough crowd! But hey, everyone has their sore spots, so I can’t blame ya. Anyways, I’m guessing all of you have questions. So, fire away!”

They snapped their fingers, making the literally zipper on Damians face disappear.

“Who are you?” Damian seethes.

“I’m Ty Kidd! But call me Kid. Oh and, my pronouns are she/they, thank you very much. I am also a delivery person for—” Kid pulls out a business card, which start to multiple and appear infront of everyone. “—the Multiversal Express Delivery Service, or MEDS for short!”

“And what exactly is MEDS?” Dick asks.

“It’s literally in the name.” Kid deadpans, before another inhuman like smile spreads across their face. “I travel from parallel world to parallel world! Fun fact: there’s a world where you guys are just fictional characters who’ve existed since the 1930s! Isn’t that cool?! One of the many reasons I love my job.”

“Yeah, yeah, fun stuff, but who sent you?”

Kid shrugs, “I dunno. Sender was anonymous. But no worries! At MEDS we ensure that none of our packages include any sort of life threatening object, material, and etc! So, no need to worry about releasing a plague that would decimate this world in a blink of an eye or a nuclear bomb that would wipe this continent out of the map! But, if you do want to send world ending plagues or bombs, you must submit a form and blah blah blah HR bullshit.”

“And... how do know right trust you?” Tim spoke up.

Kid’s face once again spilts in half into a smile, their jagged teeth slightly teasing her lips. Her eyes turned into black silts. “You don’t.” Their voice reasonated throughout everyone’s ears, deep and contorted to the octave.

She pulled back, face once again going “normal”. “But! You can trust MEDS! Trust me when I say, nothing like a bomb, plague or that sort of item is inside this package. Anyways, I’m on a schedule, so—“

They snapped their fingers, a small device and pen appearing infront of Jason. “—please sign, and I’ll be on my merry way. Don’t worry about the window, I’ll fix it!”

Jason was momentarily stunned wondering what the fuck is happening? Why is their probably a fucking eldritch-demon-person in front of me? What is my life?

Before Jason could even tell what was happening, he picked up the floating pen and signed his name on the little device thingy. When his name was signed, the pen and device poofed! away in a plume is smoke.

The Kid, still smiling that inhuman and unsettling smile, snapped their fingers, fixing the broken window, and putting away all the various knifes and objects that were still floating in the air.

“Thank you for your service! If you ever want to send anything to a parallel universe, just give us a call and we will send it! No matter how desolate the Earth, no matter how frankly strange item, we shall send it! Anyways, happy Death day Jason Todd. Kid Out!” They said with a salute, before disappearing in a plume of smoke.

All hell breaks loose and after some arguing and lowkey existential breakdowns everyone converges to the Cave.

Bruce being paranoia incarnate, makes the package go through numerous tests. All being negative. They can’t even identify what it is.

After some more arguing, Jason slips by everyone, and tears open the box. Everyone tries to stop him, but it’s already to late, he opened it.

Now, no one can see what’s inside since Jason is blocking them with his gigantic ass figure. Bruce is the first one to realize that Jason freezes up, and goes to him, worried that something happened.

“Jason, whats wro—“ Then Bruce sees what’s in the box and pales. Everyone sees how Bruce freezes, just looking at the box.

Soon, one by one, it revealed: its Jokers decapated head.

Or alternatively, Jason is the last one to see what’s inside (Damian or someone else being the first). Up to you.

Anyways, there’s this card. Jason picks it up, and it reads:

As the Persians say: an eye for an eye. But the world doesn’t go blind. Happy Dead Clown Day, Jason.

—[Insert an intial or some shit]

Cue some time later, and, yes, it’s confirmed, this is Jokers head. You see, Jokers been awfully quiet for two years, as he went missing after an explosion rocked Arkham Asylum. This, is proof that Joker is finally dead.

News breaks that Joker is dead, and it follows Jason reaction to his death.

In my opinion he’d be lowkey angry that it wasn’t him who killed the damn Clown. But, holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. He’s... He’s dead. He’s finally fucking dead.

Cue some more time later, after everything has cooled down. Jason is in Robinson Park, sitting at a bench, when another kid (who kinda looks like Kid but Jason is too busy inner monologuing to care).

The kid speaks up, “You know, before I use to hate the phrase, ‘an eye for an eye’ ‘cause, the world would go blind.”

Jason freezes, and the kid continues. “But, now I get it. An eye for an eye, but the world never goes blind. Simple as that, since, sure, your blind in one eye, but justice was finally served, right Jason?”

The kid turns to him, and smiles. Not a too large, too sharp, too inhuman smile, but a sincere, warm one. “Y-Yeah.” Jason finally manages to choke out.

“It’s a nice day out, you know. It’s real nice. I know, that, at least you get to see more of these nice days.”

“You day that as if you can’t see days like these anymore.” He blurts out.

The kid sighs, with a bitter smile on their face. “Yeah, I can’t see or experience days like these anymore. I haven’t been able too for three years. But hey, an eye for an eye, but the world never goes blind.” As the kid speaks, their voice fades away. In a blink of an eye, the kid disappears, leaving behind daffodil and a note.

The note is an invitation for a funeral.

Jason goes to the Manor, specifically the cave, and conveniently everyone is there. Damian, Stephanie and Cass are sparring. Dick is using the aerial equipment. Bruce and Tim are working on some cases with Barbara helping. Alfred is done, handing out snacks.

Jason immediately shoves the card to Tim, who’s confused and then sees how utterly shaken up and pale he looks.

“Tell me what happened to this kid.”

Everyone immediately turns to Tim, as he types in their name, date and etc.

What they find out, is that, this kid, who died three years ago, died in the last ever attack wide scale attack the Joker committed. They were the only casualty in said attack (surprisingly).

And they were only 13. Like Jason. And the date of the attack... is the same day Jason died all those years ago in Ethiopia.

“I saw them.”

“...what?” Dick said, in an incredulous voice.

“I saw them. At Robinson Park. They even said that exact same phrase in that fucking card: an eye for an eye—“

“—and the world never goes blind.” Everyone says the last part in unison.

Then the Bats get news that rest of Jokers body was sent to the GCPD, addressed to—

-END-

Basically, that’s how the one shot goes. If anyone wants to use the idea:

Jason gets a package while he’s at the Manor. They test said package and nothing comes up. Some start arguing and someone opens the package (which is more dramatic, Jason seeing it first or last?). They see: Jokers decapiated head. Chaos ensues and a metric shit load of testing later, it’s confirmed: thats Jokers head. And Jokers been missing for [insert amount of time]. The Batfam then deal with the fallout of Joker being (finally) dead.

If anyone writes this, please tag me! I want too see ANGST, and FLUFF, and GOOD DAD BRUCE, and, DRAMA, and ALL THE BAT KIDS.

(I can’t delete the fucking pic below me and I refuse to rewrite this entire post. Lowkey it’s kinda ironic too lmao).

[kelyon]

Golden Rings 15: A Sheriff

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Emma steps in

Read on AO3

Emma Swan was having a craptastic day. 

After ten years in a row of solo Valentine’s Days, she didn’t expect the holiday to still get to her. And yet it had.

Maybe it was Storybrooke, with cutesy paper hearts in the windows of almost every store on Main Street. Maybe it was her roommate Mary Margaret, who kept believing in True Love no matter how hard she was proven wrong. You’d think a woman sneaking around with a married man wouldn’t be such a romantic. But you’d be wrong.

Maybe it was Henry. Regina had put her foot down on them spending much time together, and it had been a few days since she’d seen him. For all the confusing feelings Emma had about Henry and about the thought of being his mother, she missed the kid. He was good company. He was a believer too, and he wanted her to join him in his delusion, the whole fairy tale thing. True Love’s Kiss and Happy Ever After and Good Triumphing Over Evil. Too bad he looked so much like the person who had put the nail in the coffin of her ever believing in True Love again. 

That night was supposed to be girl’s night. Mary Margaret had called it “Galentine’s Day,” which was very Mary Margaret. Emma joined the group at the Rabbit Hole for an evening of forgetting about the men in their lives. Or the absence of men, as the case may be. 

The good times had lasted about an hour, until Ashley’s boyfriend Sean showed up at the bar with a ring and a bended knee. Ashley said yes and they left together. After that Ruby drifted over to some rowdy college guys and Mary Margaret announced her desire to go home to the only men who would never let her down--Ben and Jerry.  

Later, as she walked around town, Emma had seen David Nolan in the window of Dark Star Pharmacy. He’d had his back to the window, in front of the Valentine’s Day card display. He’d walked away with two pink cards, despite the fact that he only had one wife. She didn’t know whether to feel worse for Mary Margaret or for Kathryn Nolan.  

In the end, this was yet another Valentine’s Day alone. Not just single, but without friends or family too. At least this year she had a job and a decent place to crash. 

Emma had considered spending a quiet night at the station. It had been months since she’d been elected Sheriff, but she still hadn’t gotten a handle on all of Graham’s old files. There were a lot of them, and none of them were dated so it was almost impossible to get an idea of the timeline of criminal activity over the years. 

But then she heard a woman shriek over by Granny’s Diner. 

Sometimes Emma missed the days when she could stumble on a situation like this and then decide to turn around and walk the other way. A big part of surviving in all the various tight spots she’d been in was knowing when something was Not Your Business. Best way to get out of trouble was to never get into it in the first place.

But she was Sheriff now. Duly elected by the people of Storybrooke. As a public servant, public safety was Her Business. 

“I can’t go with you!”

The woman’s voice shouted again and Emma picked up her pace. The woman sounded drunk and upset. The fact that the man talking to her sounded calm and sober did not ease Emma’s mind. 

She turned the corner and saw Gold. 

Landlord, loan shark, pawnbroker and power broker, he’d been at the top of Emma’s list of shady characters for a long time. The fact that he’d helped her get elected only made him more suspicious. A man like that didn’t do things without an ulterior motive and she already owed him a favor because of that thing with Ashley and Sean’s baby.

 Gold had his hands out to a woman who was bent over and crying. Had he hit her? Was he about to?

Emma had never officially met Mrs. Gold, but she had seen her around town. She was usually dressed like she was now--big hair, high heels, clothes either too short or too tight or both. Graham had a stack of files on Mrs. Gold. People could be close-lipped about their landlord, but everyone had a wild story about his wife. 

Nobody ever mentioned how young she was. 

It was hard to tell with the heavy makeup and the heavier crying, but Mrs. Gold looked barely out of her teens. And Gold was easily in his fifties. Everyone talked about them like they’d been married for years. How old had she been when they’d gotten married?

Emma’s opinion of Gold went down another notch. 

“Is everything alright?”

It was a pretty standard opening question for a cop. Part of Emma was still surprised to be asking it instead of hearing it. She put her hands on her hips to clearly display her badge.

“We’re fine.” Gold held up his hand. Like he could stop her from getting closer.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Emma said calmly as she pushed past him. 

Mrs. Gold was bent over double, clutching her stomach. What the hell had he done to her? Squatting on her heels, Emma touched her on the shoulder.

“Mrs. Gold, are you okay?”

Drunk, red, teary eyes slowly tried to focus. Mrs. Gold’s mouth opened, but then she shook her head and started crying again.

“Sheriff, I appreciate your concern. As you can see, my wife has had too much to drink and I’m trying to get her home.”

Emma looked at Mrs. Gold. “Do you want to go home with him?”

This time, instead of shaking her head, Mrs. Gold closed her eyes and sank lower to the ground. Still balanced on her heels, she curled herself into a ball. Emma stood up and looked at Gold. 

“That isn’t a yes.”

He rolled his eyes, which did not help his case. “Please, Miss Swan, this is a private matter.”

Emma made a show of scanning Main Street up and down. “Pretty sure it’s happening in public. You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“I already did: Mrs. Gold had too much wine at dinner and now she’s throwing a fit. I’m trying to get her back to the house, where she won’t be a public nuisance any longer.” Gold’s consonants were clipped, and he spoke with a biting quickness. He was irritated. 

Irritated. While his wife was crying in the street.

She crouched down again. “Have you been drinking, Mrs. Gold?” Obviously she had, but it was important to let the woman speak for herself. Gold had to know she wasn’t just going to take his word on what was going on.

“I had a bottle of wine,” Mrs. Gold’s voice wobbled. She was still crying. “And I didn’t eat dinner.”

“That’ll do it,” Emma nodded. She held out her hand. “You wanna try standing up? I can take you in the diner for some food, coffee.”  

She shook her head. “I wanna roll in a ditch and stay there forever.” She broke down in a fresh wave of sobs that toppled her over and landed her butt-first on the sidewalk.

Emma winced and picked Mrs. Gold up. The woman clung to her as they stood, like an old cartoon of a drunk leaning on a lamppost.

“Thank you, Miss Swan,” Gold said smoothly. “Do you want to try to walk her to the parking lot or shall I bring the car around?”

Emma adjusted her grip on Mrs. Gold. She was light and tiny--helpless. “I haven’t determined that she wants to go home with you, Gold.”  

He looked shocked, offended. “What difference does that make? The state she’s in, she doesn’t know what she wants.”

Is that the way you like her? Emma was smart enough to not voice her suspicions out loud. But she knew enough about Gold to know that nothing was beneath him. This woman wasn’t safe.

Gently extracting herself, Emma put her hands on Mrs. Gold’s shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Mrs. Gold, can you talk to me for a sec?”

Mrs. Gold put a hand up to her mouth and nodded. 

“Can you give me a word?”

After a moment’s thought, Mrs. Gold closed her eyes and said, “Yeah.”

“Do you know that man standing behind us?”

This question was met with a glare, first at Emma, then at Gold. “Mr. Gold is supposed to be my husband,” she slurred. “He’s supposed to care about me.” She began to push against Emma’s grasp, shouting at Gold. “You’re supposed to love me, you bastard! I put up with so much shit for you!”

“Okay.” Emma cut off the drunken rant before it could build up steam. “Do you want to go home with him right now?”

“No.” Mrs. Gold was swaying on her feet, but she knew her own mind.

“Okay,” Emma nodded. “I won’t let that happen then.”

“Sheriff Swan, this is ridic--”

“She said no.” Emma spun around to face Gold. She didn’t yell at him. She didn’t have to. Sometimes doing the right thing was complicated and messy, but sometimes it was amazingly simple.  

She left Gold standing in silence and turned back to Mrs. Gold. “Now, do you have somebody you can stay with tonight? Friends? Family?”

Mutely, Mrs. Gold shook her head.

“Do your parents live around here?”

Her face crumpled like a paper bag and she began to cry again.

“Okay.” Emma gave her a few awkward pats on the back. “It’s okay. We’ve all been there.” She’d certainly been there more times than she could count.

“As you can see,” Gold’s cane tapped on the sidewalk as he stepped closer, “my wife doesn’t have anyone in her life but me.”

And who’s fault is that? Emma wondered. Out loud all she said was, “Not while I’m around.”

“What, precisely, do you intend to do with her?”

“We’re going back to the station.” Emma helped Mrs. Gold get her arms into her coat and began to half-lead, half-carry her down the street. “Is it okay if I help you walk?”

Mrs. Gold nodded and took a few staggering steps on her own. If it weren’t so cold, Emma would have told her to take off the heels.

Gold followed behind them. “Sheriff! You can’t just run off with my wife!”

Emma looked over her shoulder at Gold. “Well, I could arrest her for public drunkenness. And I could arrest you for interfering in police business. I could get out the handcuffs and the tasers and the billy clubs, because you two are clearly a danger to the safety of the town.” Emma took a moment to let her words sink in. 

The problem with being the only cop on duty was that she had to be both Good Cop and Bad Cop. 

“Or,” she went on. “We could, all three of us, take a nice walk to the station. Maybe the night air will clear our heads. I sincerely hope Mrs. Gold finds a quiet place to throw up because the sooner she gets sober the better.” She started walking again and shouted back to Gold. “You can come with us or you can go to hell, but I’m not gonna drag both of you.”

****

Emma was able to get Mrs. Gold all the way to the station bathrooms before she threw up. Gold trailed behind them the whole way. Was he slow because of his cane or because he didn’t want to come? Either way, he was standing outside the women’s room when they emerged.

When she saw her husband, Mrs. Gold shrank back. But she didn’t start crying again.

“Office is through that door,” Emma pointed behind Gold’s shoulder. “Feel free to have a seat, we’re gonna go get some water.”

She took Mrs. Gold to the water cooler around the corner. The tank was made of glass, likely from the fifties or sixties. The whole station was outdated like that, a time capsule. Maybe that was why Graham had so many paper files. The budget didn’t have room for a computer made after 1983.  

Mrs. Gold took quiet sips out of a paper cup. Her face was splotchy from emotion and booze. Mascara had smeared all over her red-rimmed eyes. She was staring into the middle distance, swaying like she was about to tip over.

“Hey, now that you’re inside, you should take off those heels.”

It seemed to take Mrs. Gold a minute to register what Emma had said. Slowly, she nodded and stepped out of her shoes. Now she looked even smaller, even younger, even more vulnerable. 

Everyone she’d talked to about Mrs. Gold acted like she was worse than her husband. That she was loud and lewd--shocking in how boldly she flaunted their sex life, whether people wanted to hear about it or not. Emma had gotten the impression that she was some kind of accomplice, an equal partner in a two-person reign of terror. 

But that wasn’t what she saw in front of her. True, appearances could be deceiving. But if Emma had to guess which version of Mrs. Gold was an act, she’d put her money on it being the heartless, hypersexed, trophy wife. Not the pathetic lightweight shaking like a leaf the middle of in a police station. 

She had to get to the bottom of this.

“How are you holding up?”

Mrs. Gold took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Been better,” she croaked out after a minute. “Been worse, too.”

“Scale of one to ten where one is the best and ten is the worst?”

“Eight,” she said after thinking about it. “Maybe nine.”

“What’s a ten?” Emma asked, genuinely curious. If getting so drunk she fought with her husband in public and got the attention of the cops and then threw up in front of a total stranger wasn’t the worst night of Mrs. Gold’s life, then what was?

But Mrs. Gold just shook her head. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah,” Emma backed off. As much as she wanted to get the full story on this woman, there were more important things to deal with right now. “Let’s get back to my office.”

Gold was standing by one of the desks in the bullpen, reading the paperwork some idiot officer had left out in the open. When they came in, he opened his mouth to speak, but Emma hurried Mrs. Gold into the office and shut the door.

“Do you want me to make him go away?” she said before she sat down.

“How?” Mrs. Gold’s voice was thick. “No one can make Mr. Gold do anything. He can do whatever he wants.”

“Can’t be that hard. I’ll just kick him the knee.”

To her surprise, Mrs. Gold snorted at the joke. “Ankle,” she corrected. “It’s his ankle that gives him trouble.”

“Good to know, next time we get in a fistfight.” She looked Mrs. Gold in the eye. “But seriously. Would you feel more comfortable if he was somewhere else?”

Mrs. Gold shook her head. “I’d only feel more comfortable if I was somewhere else.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach and sank into the chair across from the desk.

Opening a drawer in the desk, Emma pulled out a box of Kleenex. She also grabbed some of the protein bars she stored in the office for lunches. And, out of the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet, she got the big stuffed Officer Teddy that they gave to kids when they were in crisis. Mrs. Gold was not a kid, but by God she looked like she needed a teddy bear. 

Emma set everything on the chair beside Mrs. Gold. She didn’t take anything but a tissue. 

“Do you mind talking about what happened tonight?”

“I should get a lawyer,” Mrs. Gold whispered. Then she cracked a miserable smile. “But Mr. Gold is my lawyer!” She pressed the Kleenex to her eyes and sobbed. 

“Hey,” Emma tried her best soft voice. “It’s okay, Mrs.-- Hang on, what’s your first name?”

Mrs. Gold looked up, suddenly suspicious. “Am I under arrest?” 

“No,” Emma said quickly. “It’s just weird to say ‘Mrs. Gold’ all the time, like you’re my third-grade math teacher.”

“Well, get used to it, Miss Swan.” She sniffed and straightened up. “I work damn hard to be Mrs. Gold, and I’m not going to be called anything else.”

Walking behind Graham’s desk--her desk--Emma leaned back in the rolling chair. “Is it always work? Being married to him, I mean.”

“Didn’t used to be,” she said quietly. “It was always a challenge, but it used to be fun, you know?”

“Not really,” Emma admitted. “I’m not big on commitment.”

“He used to be wonderful.” There was a misty light in her eyes now. “Especially when I was good, when he was happy with me. He could be so inventive and dedicated.” She sighed. “Mr. Gold could do things to me I didn’t even know I wanted.”

“But only when you were good?” 

The rumor mill had plenty of stories of Mrs. Gold proudly walking around town with bruises and burns. Apparently no Valentine’s Day was complete without her stocking up on rope and duct tape. Was that for when she was good or when she was bad?

Mrs. Gold shrugged and looked away. “I don’t expect you to understand how Mr. Gold and I are together.”

“I understand BDSM,” Emma said evenly. 

Mrs. Gold looked at her, with a blank confusion that didn’t come just from being drunk. She didn’t say anything, so Emma went on.

“That’s what it is, right? Sado-masochism? Dominance and submission? Bondage?”

A blink. “What?”

Emma put her feet up on the desk, trying to look cooler than she felt. It was weird to talk about this stuff in an otherwise normal environment while she was on the clock. But apparently the Golds got a thrill out of shocking vanilla people. So she’d better not act shocked. 

“Not everybody’s from Storybrooke, Mrs. Gold.”

She slumped forward. “I didn’t realize there was a name for it. Do a lot of other people do this stuff?”

Emma’s attempt not to be shocked didn’t last long. She sat up in the chair, took her feet off the desk. “You didn’t know? Wait, are you two not a part of a community?”

“What do you mean?”

Yeah, that made sense. Gold was one of those doms. Self-titled, self-taught, probably got kicked out of any reasonable BDSM group he tried to get into. Predatory. His current wife was young, maybe curious about kink, and he’d been oh-so-happy to be the only teacher she had. He’d trained her to trust him, to rely on him completely, so he could abuse her any sick way he wanted to. He probably told her it was all okay because they were kinky. That living in fear was what the lifestyle was all about. 

Son of a bitch.

Mrs. Gold looked over her shoulder through the windows that looked out at the bullpen. Gold was still standing there, leaning on his cane. Waiting.

Emma clenched her jaw. “There’s… a lot… I want to talk to you about, Mrs. Gold. But right now the most important thing is making sure you’re safe.”

She shook her head. “I’m safe.”

“Earlier you said you didn’t want to go home with him.”

“I was drunk,” she shrugged. “I was upset. I made Mr. Gold angry and I was afraid to face the consequences.”

“Are you afraid of him a lot?”

“No-o.” Mrs. Gold looked down at the tissue in her hands. “Not a lot.”

Emma pressed in. “When was the last time you were afraid of your husband?”

Defiance flashed in her eyes, but then disappeared. Mrs. Gold hung her head. “Last night,” she whispered. “I did something really bad and I thought he was going to hurt me. Like, really hurt me, you know?”

“More than just a spanking, huh?”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “But he didn’t! That has to count for something, right?”

Emma closed her eyes so Mrs. Gold couldn’t see her rolling them. “Maybe something, but not much.” She took a deep breath. “I’m gonna ask you a question, and I want you to think for a second before you answer it: Do you think your husband respects you?”

“No, of course not.” Apparently she didn’t need to think about it. “I’m just a stupid whore, Sheriff. Why would Mr. Gold respect a trashy slut like me?”

“Because you’re a person!” Emma shouted and Mrs. Gold winced. From the other side of the glass, Gold looked up. 

She balled her fists, trying to keep her anger from getting the better of her. Emma liked action. If there was a problem, she wanted to do something about it. If the thing to do involved punching a violent predator, then that was even better. 

But she couldn’t do that now. Cursing Gold out about the meaning of the words “safe, sane and consensual” would make Emma feel better, but it wouldn’t help Mrs. Gold. Right now, the most important thing was giving this girl the mental tools to protect herself. Or at least let her know that she was in danger.

“Mrs. Gold,” Emma said after a minute. “It’s important to me that you understand some things. I don’t know what your husband may have told you, but I want you to trust that I’m telling you the truth. Can you do that? Can you trust me?”

Mrs. Gold swallowed. “What are you going to tell me?”

“Just that… you and your husband are not the only people in the world who like doing stuff that other people might think of as unconventional. There are a lot of people who like, say, mixing pain and sex. Or pretending to be roles that they aren’t.” She hesitated before she admitted something personal: “I was with a guy who told me he never felt safer than when he tied himself up with rope.”

It had meant a lot to Emma, the first time he’d asked her to tie his hands behind his back. He’d told her he trusted her, and she had trusted him--right until it had all fallen apart.

“Are you serious?” Mrs. Gold’s brow was furrowed. “There are other people like us?”

“Yep,” Emma nodded. “More than most people think. In fact, there are enough people like this that they can get together and talk about it. They talk about this stuff so much that there are rules that a lot of these people agree on.”

“What kind of rules?”

For a second, Emma didn’t know where to start. As much as she was talking, her real experiences with kinksters was very limited. Even in the best circumstances, she wasn’t one for clubs or social groups. Nothing with the promise of a community or lasting relationships--that wasn’t her style. One-on-one was better. Emma liked semi-anonymous one night stands. No strings, just rope.  

But that wasn’t what most people wanted, and it definitely wasn’t what Mrs. Gold needed.

“Consent is a pretty big rule for most communities. Making sure that a person isn’t put in a situation they didn’t agree to. So communication is important too. The person being done to has to say what they want and the person doing the thing has to say what they’re planning on doing--and they both have to agree. Am I making sense so far?”

“So it’s like a deal?”

“Yep,” Emma said, glad that something was clicking with Mrs. Gold. “Negotiation is a big part of it.”

“I already made my deal with Mr. Gold.” 

“Well, it’s not something you only talk about once.” She lowered her voice. “Does your husband talk to you before you do a scene?”  

“A ‘scene’?”

No surprise that Mrs. Gold didn’t know even basic vocabulary.

“Yeah, before sex or play or punishment--whatever it is you do when he has power over you.”

“Mr. Gold always has power over me. He can fuck me whenever he wants to. That’s the deal.”

Emma frowned. “Does he get to hurt you whenever he wants to?”

“He can,” Mrs. Gold admitted with perfect calm. “He can do anything to me, or make me do anything. And that’s consensual. I agreed to it when I married him.”

“Does it ever stop? Do you ever have, like, a time out? A rest period? Or are you guys always… in that zone?”

Mrs. Gold looked away. There hadn’t been a trace of embarrassment during the rest of the conversation, but now she looked ashamed. 

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s… It’s been a while since we’ve actually done anything.”

Interesting. “And whose decision was that?”

“Oh, Mr Gold’s. I’ve offered tons of times, but he hasn’t touched me in months.”

“So he decides when you don’t have sex as well as when you do?”

“I guess.”

“Was that a part of your deal?”

She shifted in her seat. “I never thought it was a possibility that he wouldn’t want to do things to me.”

“But you really like it? You think he’s a good partner?”

Mrs. Gold’s blue eyes looked up at Emma. Every fiber of her being radiated sincerity. “The best.”

“Wanna tell me how you feel about not having sex for months?”

She looked away. “I hate it.” 

“Have you told him that?”

“No!” she almost laughed. “I was starting to tonight, but it didn’t work out for me.”

Emma didn’t laugh. She rested her arms on the desk and leaned in to look Mrs. Gold in the eye. “Listen, I’m not a marriage counselor. I’m not an expert in kink. I’m a sheriff. There is clearly a lot broken with your relationship, but I’m not going to be able to solve any of it. No one will be able to fix you guys unless you’re both willing to admit that there’s a problem and work towards a solution.”

Mrs. Gold looked down. “We never had problems before.”

“No, you did. But it sounds like Gold was really good at making you think they weren’t problems. Point is, there’s only so much I can do from a law-enforcement standpoint. I can arrest your husband--but only if you’re willing to press charges and make a statement about any past mistreatment.”

“Wait, who said anything about arresting Mr. Gold?”

“I’m just trying to think of a way to keep you safe. It’s my opinion that the easiest way to do that right now is to keep you separated from your husband. Now, you said you don’t have anyone you can stay with. If you want, I can pay for you to get a room at Granny’s.”

“I don’t need your fucking charity!” Mrs. Gold spat out the last word. 

“Okay,” Emma went on. “My other option is to keep you here in the station overnight. You admitted to being drunk, I can give you a safe place to dry out.”

“But you also want to make up some charge to put Mr. Gold in jail?” Her voice rose as she spoke. “That’s ridiculous! If those are the choices, then yes, by all fucking means, arrest me instead of him!”

This was wrong. Emma knew that it was wrong. Putting Mrs. Gold in the holding cell would be a completely a bass-ackward perversion of justice.

But she was damned if she could think of a single other way to fix this. 

If Mrs. Gold insisted on blaming herself, if she wasn’t going to press charges against her husband, if she didn’t even see that she was being abused--then nothing Emma did or said would change her mind. If Emma forced the issue, then she would be telling Mrs. Gold what to do instead of letting her actually make a choice. And if Mrs. Gold was ever going to be able to break out of her situation, it had to be her choice. 

“Do you wanna put me in handcuffs? It wouldn’t be the first time!”

The transformation was so fast Emma almost didn’t recognize that it was the same person speaking. So this was the version of Mrs. Gold that everyone had a story about. The version of Mrs. Gold that was in Graham’s file. Sparkling voice, chipper smile. She was even posed with her legs splayed open like a pin-up model.

Emma sighed. 

“It doesn’t have to be this way. Remember that. You don’t have to throw yourself under the bus for him. And you don’t have to do things you don’t want to do.”

“It’s really cute that you think that, Sheriff!” Mrs Gold stood up and stepped back into her shoes. She dropped the crumpled Kleenex on the floor and kicked it out of the way with her shiny black heels.  

She didn’t stagger or wobble as she opened the door to the office, but she did stop in her tracks when she saw Gold. Emma was close enough that she could hear her swallow. 

Taking a strange kind of mercy on the girl, Emma pushed in front of her to talk to Gold herself. 

“I’m keeping Mrs. Gold in the holding cell overnight, just until her blood alcohol level goes down a bit.”

“That’s not going to happen, Sheriff.” 

He didn’t move any closer, he didn’t try to reach for Mrs. Gold. He stood very still, with both hands on his cane in front of him. Emma narrowed her eyes. 

“Are you going to try to stop me?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said smoothly. “But I couldn’t help overhearing the end of your conversation.  Mrs. Gold offered to have herself put under arrest. Allow me to make a counter-offer.”

“She doesn’t want to go home with you.”

“I know,” he said. “So my offer is that I stay in the station tonight.” He looked over his shoulder at the jail cell behind him. “Assuming, of course, that you make sure Mrs. Gold gets back safely to the house.”

This was ridiculous. Emma crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you confessing to a crime, Gold?”

“Quite the opposite.” Bastard had the audacity to grin. “I’m hoping this act will prove my innocence.”

Emma clenched her jaw. He was full of shit, but how could she prove it? Gold was giving her exactly what she wanted. There had to be a catch. 

“Is this your favor?” she asked. “Are you calling in what I owe you for Ashley’s baby?”

He gave a little shake of the head. “What this is, Miss Swan, is the right thing to do.”

“Why?” Mrs. Gold’s voice pierced through the quiet station. When Emma turned around, she saw she was crying again. “Why would you do this for me?”

Gold’s expression softened. To Emma’s surprise, she actually believed that he was capable of feeling sorry. Either he was very good, or there was more to him than she’d thought. 

“Like I said, Mrs. Gold, it’s the right thing to do.” He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a ring of keys. He set them on the nearest desk. “You didn’t bring your purse to dinner. You’ll need a key to get back in the house.”

Mrs. Gold just stood there, confused and stunned. Emma stepped forward to take the keys and give them to Mrs. Gold.

“I’ll drop you off,” she told her. “It looks like the car key is on here, but you’re still in no state to drive.”

Nodding slowly, Mrs. Gold looked at the keys in her hand. Then she looked up at her husband. “I’ll give these back to you tomorrow.”

“That’s fine,” he agreed. He shifted his gaze to Emma and smirked. “Assuming I’ll be a free man tomorrow?”

Emma rolled her eyes and began to usher Gold backwards to the cell. “Since I’m not actually booking you for anything, sure.” Once he was inside, she shut the door. “I swear, if this whole thing has been some kind of kinky game--”

“It’s not, Sheriff,” Gold said calmly. “The wellbeing of my wife is the most serious matter in the world.”

“Uh-huh.” Emma locked him in. “You’re gonna have to work harder on that.”

[la5t-res0rt]

Wanted to ask about beetlelyds, sorry, I thought it was technically cannon? Like in the old comics after the show ended she grew up and married him. Sorry I’m an old school fan and have no idea why this whole thing is such a big deal. Wasn’t the actor like 20 too? I’m sorry if I sound very dumb. I’m not used to this new tumblr.

youre fine you are one hundred percent allowed to especially when you do it civilly as you have done here

first of all the biggest issue faced in the whole what is and is not canon debate is the fact that there are three (four if you count the limited comics run) publicized iterations of my media

i will go over each very briefly just kidding this is going to a long answer so i will spare the dashboard with a readmore

there is the movie which im sure you dont need me to explain the plot since youre an old school fan but basically the climax is that yes beetlejuice does go for the marriage angle in exchange for stopping the exorcism of adam and barbara and his motive for this is so that he can cause as much chaos as he wants on the mortal coil but his plan is thwarted when barbara rides a sandworm into the house which promptly eats beetlejuice sending him to bureaucratic death limbo

the end of the movie features the deetz and the maitlands happily living together with lydia havign a new appreciation for her situation and beetlejuice gets his head made real small which is very funny haha 

so no in the movie they are not canon editors note the actress who played lydia winona ryder was a teenager while filming the movie she turned 17 the year it released 

the next is the cartoon which i will admit has the most grounds for being considered canon but in the end the show is about a middle schooler and her best friend who is a ghost which in itself is a pretty iffy gray area sort of thing but for a childrens cartoon to work a friendship is better than the obvious enemy status they held in the movie

anyway in the cartoon they are potrayed to be very close friends with lydia being the person beetlejuice cares about the most and honestly if you were to watch it with no prior knowledge of the media and if you ignored their massive and obvious age difference than yeah you probably would read it as a romantic relationship 

however lydia is a middle schooler and that is simply immoral

there have been writers for the cartoon who have been credited to say that a relationship is what they were trying to invoke but for obvious reasons they couldnt exactly move forward with that angle with them establishing that lydia is a child in middle school and a fully grown adult man dating a child who is in middle school is immoral and also illegal in the united states and in canada 

this isnt a good argument for whether or not something is canon and i will tell you why with one simple name and that is luke weber

if you dont know who luke weber is he was a storyboard artist on the cartoon steven universe he is known for making a lot of self ship artwork of him and the character pearl

he worked on the show isnt his material canon no of course it isnt it wasnt put in the actual publication and also if memory serves he was eventually asked to leave the project after he drew art of the shows creator giving him permission to date pearl and calling them her otp and a lot of fans hated this because the most generally accepted interpretation of pearls character is that she is sapphic so a lot of people took issue however that again is just a widely perceived headcanon it is never stated what her actual sexuality is no one in that show is because it isnt a show about that its about wait im getting off topic sorry

what im saying is what can truly be considered canon is what you see on the screen and with the cartoon they are definitely the most friendly with each other and that is why so many people in the beetlebabe shipping community take so much stock in the cartoon because it is the easiest to read the relationship between the mas romantic although that is not what the show actually provides in black and white terms

interpretation does not equal canon and in this case no matter what anyone says the fact remains that in the cartoon itself they are friends good friends yes but friends all the same

it is definitely not a show about a grown man grooming an adult and if it were you definitely shouldn’t be stanning it the extreme because grooming a minor is wrong and it is apparently a problem in the fandom

anyway if the cartoon and the movie are both products of their time and there was more leniency on content bear in mind this was the same era as notorious animation powerhouse and known predator john k who was a showrunner on ren and stimpy and he maintained a relationship with a teenager which was an open secret that nobody really took issue with because in that time being a woman in the animation industry was tricky business and your career could be ended easily if you rejected advances luckily time has moved forward and the animation industry although still full of problems of a similar nature at least people are getting called out and punished for it

you can look more into that yourself its really upsetting though

as for comics i havent been able to find good scans of them and im not willing to purchase them but in my search i never found anything about the two of them ever being married in the cartoon again because she is a child i did find a cover where he appears to be getting married and hes asking lydia to get him out of it but im not sure where the comic actually goes all i know is she is standing off to the side shrugging and looking like she doesnt really care

anyway that brings us to the musical which is set in the modern day 

in the original libretto lydia is described as thirteen but since they got an actress who was older in the updated librettos she is listed as 15 and the story is pretty similar to the movie the young girl befriends ghosts and they try to scare her family out etc etc

the major difference between the film and the musical are that lydia and beetlejuice are more like friends like in the cartoon 

she summons him to help scare after the maitlands attempt doesnt really work so he shows up and they have fun terrorizing people together however she drops him for the opportunity to perhaps get her mom back but when no one will help she goes back to beetlejuice who tricks her into almost exorcising barbara

she agrees to marry him in order to stop the exorcism and he only wants to get married so he can be alive again and cause problems on the mortal coil like in the movie in the musical he states several times its a green card thing whihc obviously doesnt make it okay but still

anyway lydia tricks him and runs off into the underworld before the wedding can happen blah blah blah she goes back blah blah and she agrees to go through with the wedding to save her friends and family with a plan to make him go away for good

theres a very tongue and cheek song called creepy old guy which points out how wrong the whole thing is but everyone is going along with it in a very comedic matter and it includes the line 

i cant believe some cultures think this kind of things alright

basically saying yeah this is very very wrong anyway they do get married and beeltjeuice is alive for like 6 seconds before lydia stabs him to death with bad art and he dies thus nullifying the marriage because death do you part etc

so in the musical no at the end of the show they are not canon because he is dead their marriage is nullified and they go their separate ways

anyway sorry about that i just need to make it very clear that these three properties are all very distinct from each other and basically all three are indeed canon since they are publicized material and arguing the validity of which one is pointless editors note all actresses who played with the exception of dana steingold were minors for the majority of their runs as lydia with sophia ann caruso the originator of the role turning 18 during the run and dana being in her late twenties presley ryan however was a minor the whole time and still is one

tldr no they aren’t canon but to the credit of some people in this fandom their interpretation isnt too far of a stretch thanks to the era and some of the writers wishing to imply a relationship between an adult and a child

i also need to address how this is all a big deal and i suggest you take a peak through my discourse tag and check out @leedia‘s blog to see some of the more harmful things done by beetlebabe shippers

the beetlejuice fandom is home to many minors after the musical came out since musical fandom is vast and the ages of its members varies and normalizing pedophilia is harmful to them not to mention the people who have been effected by sexual harassment at the hands of adults

both sides have victims of csa but one side continues to perpetuate the cycle by showing time and time again that this behavior is normal and easily romanticized in the name of coping and literally anyone who has ever been to a good and credible therapist could tell you that posting cp even if it is simulated cp isnt a really good way to cope and you can get mad at me for saying that its totally fine but and im going to remove my character veil here for just a second as a csa survivor myself i think its harmful to not only myself but many others ok the veil is back down

tldr again there is a lot of bullying and harassment going on with both sides having their own issues but there is one side whos issues run a bit deeper in my humble opinion 

thank you for your question it allowed me to talk a lot you are welcome to discuss further with me in dms if you wish i honestly recommend giving the musical a listen because it is very fun and despite what some people say its very clever and if you get a chance to see a boot of it its visually stunning

one last note that i couldnt really fit in here but a large portion of the beetlebabes shipping community ignore the musical because it openly condemns the idea of beeltejuice and lydia having a relationship and a lot of the antis take issue with much of the writing and characterizations of the cartoon just a note that i think is important since were talking about canon

[olliedollie1204]

the kids are alright

AKA, Kai will see Elliott and ask “Is anyone going to adopt that?” and not wait for an answer

Edit: now also on AO3!

Characters: Kai, Elliott, Emile Picani, Larry and Dot (mentioned)

Words: 2,354

(A/N: I read both Elliott and Kai as being older teenagers, with Elliott being like 17/18 and Kai being 19/20? That might not be accurate but that’s the vibes for this.)

As soon as Kai pushed his way through the glass door, he started the process of freeing himself from the ridiculous amount of safety gear he had to wear while skateboarding.

Off came the elbow pads, knee pads, and wrist guards, which he dumped unceremoniously in his backpack; then he undid his helmet, the black and purple gradient one that Lauren got him when he told her he was gonna take up skating again. That, he tucked under his arm for safekeeping, grabbing his board with his other hand as he made his way down the hall to Picani’s waiting room.

Kai didn’t know how many patients the quack doctor had; enough to keep his business from shutting down, he guessed, but he’d never even seen another person in the building at any of the sessions he’d been to already.

So the sight of someone actually sitting on the waiting room couch made Kai freeze in his tracks.

The other person— around Kai’s age, maybe a little younger— had their eyes on their phone, and made no outward reaction when Kai appeared in the doorway; but Kai was way too suspicious of everything around him to not pick up on the way the kid’s eyes flicked towards him for less than a second before returning to their phone, or the way their thumb was moving across the screen too fast and haphazard for them to actually be doing anything.

They were nervous, Kai suddenly realized, because he’d shown up, and now the two of them were alone in a tiny waiting room of a therapist’s office.

Ah, fuck. Kai hated knowing people were uncomfortable. His social anxiety wasn’t quite like that, but he’d certainly seen enough of his friends go through it to know that this encounter was ticking a lot of boxes: in tight quarters, with a stranger, in a vulnerable setting, in silence.

Well, Kai never had much of a filter anyway, so he might as well try to relieve some of the tension in the room.

“Sup,” he offered, dropping onto the other end of the couch, leaving the cushion in the middle empty as a buffer space. The kid nodded politely, pulling their backpack up onto their lap and hugging it against their chest. Kai caught a glimpse of a ‘they/them’ pronoun button on their bag.

He felt a release of breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Thank fuck, another one.

“Did the Doc double book his appointments or something?”

Kai pretended not to notice the way the kid jumped slightly before looking at him, hesitant and confused.

“I’m sorry?”

Kai gestured towards the door. “I’m his 11 o’clock. What’re you in for?”

The kid faltered for a second before holding up a crumpled stack of papers in their hand. “I, um, just need to drop off some paperwork.”

“You had to do that in person?” Kai asked. Too late, he realized the words were kind of unnecessarily hostile, but, well, he wasn’t a people person, so he didn’t know what the fuck he should be doing better, okay?

Luckily, the kid didn’t seem too bothered, merely looking down at their lap and picking at their nail polish.

“Uh, he asked me to? I was gonna email them but he said he doesn’t have a computer, so…” They trailed off, apparently not knowing how to finish the sentence.

Kai furrowed his brow. “How does he advertise his shit without a computer? That just seems like a bad business practice.”

They shrugged. “I mean, I guess word of mouth is good enough. Um, my friend told me about him, but I don’t actually know where she heard about him.”

“Same,” Kai replied. “My girlfriend made me come here at first, but she never told me how the fuck she found him. Probably some magic newspaper ad— ‘The person you need is Emile Picani’, or some dumb shit like that.”

The kid huffed a small laugh. “Was that— was that a Nanny McPhee reference?”

“… Huh,” Kai replied after a moment. “Yeah, it was. Didn’t think you’d recognize it.”

Again the kid shrugged, but now there was a small smile on their face. Kai grinned back, leaning against the stiff couch and kicking one leg on the table as he bounced his other leg against the floor.

“I’m Kai,” he said, lazily throwing up a peace sign. The kid blinked in surprise.

“Um, Elliott. Nice to… meet you,” they finished awkwardly.

“Same,” Kai replied, nodding. The room fell silent for a couple beats before he continued, “Still, no computer. I mean, Jesus, get with the times, man!”

“Probably doesn’t have one because he spent all his money on stuffed animals and Funko Pops,” Elliott muttered. The quip came fast, and Kai let out a huff of surprised laughter. Fuck, yes. Now this was something he wanted to talk about.

“Okay, I have to ask you this, because no one else will fucking get it,” he blurted, turning so he was facing Elliott more directly. They looked at him with slight apprehension as Kai leaned closer.

“What is his deal with cartoons?”

A beat, and then a slightly exasperated half-smile formed on Elliott’s face. “I know. It’s like, I assume he went to school for, you know, counseling or whatever, but he only knows how to explain things through kids’ shows? Like, how did you even get your degree? Or your license?”

Kai nodded. “I mean, I guess it makes sense. That hyper ass motherfucker practically is a cartoon character. Like, you know how he literally sings when he walks in the room? Who fucking does that?”

“Yes!” Elliott’s smile finally broke through completely. “Yes, oh my God, yes. And have you noticed the way he’s, like, incapable of sitting still? Like, he practically bounces all over the place, he throws his arms and legs everywhere, and his face—” 

“Oh, way too many facial expressions, for sure,” Kai finished. “Oh! Oh, and sometimes he’ll, like, scrunch his nose up and stick his tongue out when he’s taking notes or whatever? Like—” 

Kai demonstrated, making Elliott snort with laughter. Kai started laughing, too— it wasn’t a particularly funny impression, but something about the dissipating awkwardness in the room made laughter come easier.

“And you can’t talk about any other form of media with him, because he won’t get it!” Elliott continued, their voice brightening throughout the conversation. “Like, anime? Never heard of it.”

“Video games are a bust, too,” Kai added. “Unless it’s, like, ‘Steven Universe: Save the Light’ or some shit.”

Elliott paused before sheepishly holding up a finger. “Actually, I’ll give him that one. My first real session, he, uh, he talked about Steven Universe for an hour, and— I don’t know, it’s not that bad.” They shrugged again, suddenly timid again.

Kai blinked. Backtrack, dumbass, backtrack. “No, yeah, I— I actually think the shit he talks about is… you know, it can be good, or whatever. Helpful.”

Ugh, fuck, that was embarrassing. Even though Kai could admit that Picani’s methods weren’t completely insane, he didn’t wanna share the intimate details of why he was there with someone he just met, even though Elliott seemed like a pretty cool kid.

He was just starting to visualize the letters WWLD in his head— What Would Lauren Do?— but thank fuck, the two of them were saved from any more awkward apologies by Picani’s office door swinging open. Kai slumped even further in his seat, while out of the corner of his eye he saw Elliot go ramrod straight.

A kind looking couple walked out of the office, holding hands and speaking quietly to themselves.

“Alright, Dorry, I’ll see ya next time!” The doctor’s cheerful voice carried into the waiting room as the couple left.

Eliiott darted their eyes to Kai, mouthing, ‘Dorry?’

‘Like the fucking fish?’ Kai mouthed back, making Elliott snort. The noise made Kai struggle to stifle his laughter in the otherwise silent waiting room, and suddenly the two of them were folding in on themselves, hands pressed over their mouths in a weak attempt at keeping quiet.

“Well, hey there, Thing One and Thing Two!”

Kai and Elliott snapped their heads up in unison, looking to where Picani was leaning in the doorway.

“I’m sorry for the wait, but I must say, I’m so happy to see you two smiling for once!” The doctor giggled, smoothing his tie and giving them both a knowing look.

Kai glared at him, opening his mouth to deliver some scathing retort, but he was interrupted by Elliott practically jumping off of the couch.

“Here’s the paperwork you asked me to bring.” They thrust their arm out to Picani, who took the papers and carefully smoothed out their wrinkles.

“Ah, thank you, Elliott! Kai, you mind hanging tight in my office for a second?”

Kai nodded wordlessly, gathering his bag and his skateboard and brusquely moving past the others into the small office. He dropped onto the couch, his bag hitting the ground with a weighty ‘thud’, as he tried not to eavesdrop too much on Picani and Elliott in the hallway. ‘Tried’ being the keyword, since they were about two feet away from the door, and Picani was a loud motherfucker.

“Thanks for bring this in for me, Tinkerbelliott!”

“That barely makes sense,” Elliot’s voice interrupted, and Kai smirked to the empty room. Get his ass, Elliott.

As the conversation continued, Kai let the rise and fall of their voices wash over him. He tried to get into his “whatever” mindset, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the kid in the waiting room.

It was like he and Elliott had some instant fucking connection or anything cheesy like that. They weren’t platonic soulmates, and honestly, it didn’t even seem like they had that much in common. But as Kai sat there, lazily rolling his board back and forth under his feet, he couldn’t help but think about all the crazy shit Picani put him through, and how talking about it with someone who really got it was… kinda fun, or whatever.

“So sorry for the wait, Agni Kai!”

Picani’s chipper voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and suddenly there was the Doc himself, shooting him a friendly smile as he made his way behind his desk.

“I’ve just been busier than a Mighty Bee this morning,” he rambled, sliding Elliott’s paperwork into a file while still managing to talk with his hands. “But I promise, starting this second all of my attention is on you. So!” he finished, folding his hands on the desk and looking at Kai expectantly. “What’s up?”

Kai looked at him for a few seconds before standing, the abrupt movement startling Picani and making him jump back in his rolly chair.

“Kai—?” 

“I’m taking this,” Kai stated, snatching a pen from the cup on his desk before Picani could respond.

“Oh! Um, ok, just be careful because it’s a glitter gel pen—” Picani’s voice got quieter as Kai swung himself out of the office, hoping he could catch Elliott without having to try and run.

Thank fuck, as he turned down the main hallway, he caught a glimpse of a figure dressed mostly in black halfway to the front door.

“Yo, Elliott, hold up!”

They froze for a moment before turning around to face Kai, curiosity and wariness lining their face.

When he got closer, Kai pointed to the folded paper Elliot was holding. “Is that important?”

“Um, no, not really— ah.” They cut themselves off as Kai snatched the paper out of their hand. “Okay.”

Kai didn’t respond as he flipped the paper over, leaning against the wall to scribble something on the back.

“You got Instagram?”

A beat, and then Elliott nodded. Kai finished with a flourish, underlining what he’d written despite it being the only thing on the paper, and passed it back to Elliott.

“Here. Follow me, I’ll follow you back,” he said as Elliott read his messy scrawl, their mouth dropping just slightly.

“Oh!” There was a distinct tone of surprise in their voice, which Kai didn’t comment on. They folded the paper in half and held it tightly in their fist. “Um, thanks, Kai. I’ll— I’ll do that as soon as I get home.”

Kai nodded. There was just a beat of awkward silence before he spun on his heel, walking casually back to Picani’s office.

“Later,” he called over his shoulder, not looking back.

“Um, yeah!” Elliott replied in a voice that clearly wasn’t used to yelling. “Later! Bye!”

Kai heard the front door open and close again by the time he reached Picani’s waiting room. He swung around the corner, feeling uncharacteristically optimistic for his session, but barely stopped himself before he collided with the good doctor himself.

“Woah! Watch out, Speed Racer!” Picani chirped, looking down at Kai. “Thought you were trying to make a run for it.”

Kai rolled his eyes before setting his gaze somewhere over the other man’s shoulder. “I left literally all of my shit in your office, obviously I was coming back.”

“Well, you just left in a real hurry, is all!” Picani replied, reaching up to straighten his tie. His voice went strangely neutral as he continued to ask, “Did you need to talk to Elliott before they left?”

Kai’s eyes flicked back to the doctor’s face, and— ugh, fuck, Picani was looking at him with that annoying sort of half-smile he always got when he thought Kai had reached some stupid ‘breakthrough’.

Kai flushed, folding his arms across his chest. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Picani—” 

“Nothing!” Picani replied with faux-innocence, putting his hands up defensively. “Just nice to see you making a friend, that’s all.”

Kai groaned, rolling his eyes so hard they nearly got stuck in the back of his head.

“Don’t be weird, man,” he grumbled, pushing past Picani into his office. He pretended not to hear the doctor’s amused chuckle as he followed him in, gently shutting the two of them in for what Kai was certain would be yet another absolutely ridiculous (yet unfortunately helpful) therapy session.

[itsuki-minamy]

“K - THE FIRST STORY”

CHAPTER 3: THE SWORD, THE CAT, AND THE SEVEN KINGS (Complete)

* Prologue: Side: The Boy * Chapter 1: The boy named Isana Yashiro * Chapter 2: Flames

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

Kuro Yatogami had a mission to fulfill. It is not an exaggeration to say that it means the meaning of living for the current Kuro.

(I ask you, Kuro.)

Miwa said from the hospital bed, and looked at him with compassionate eyes.

Miwa, never showed illness. Kuro wanted to do something for Miwa, but did not provide his care like a nurse, except to prepare the daily meals and take them to bed, and did most of his own work to the end.

He didn't want to believe that Miwa died, but as soon as he fell to the ground, he said, "My life seems to be short.", With a bit of embarrassment, but with a kind look. If Miwa was an ordinary person, he would have said, "Please don't say anything.", But Kuro, who knew Miwa's power, had no choice but to grip his fist tightly and accept it.

Kuro found it difficult to imagine living in a world without Miwa. For Kuro, Miwa's existence was a sign of life. He was worried because he lost him and didn't know if he could walk forward properly.

It may have been because of that Kuro that Miwa announced his death. Even after he died, Miwa showed him the way to go.

On the rooftop of the building in front of Shizume-cho station, Kuro was pointing his sword at a boy.

The boy seems guilty of his sins and is confused by what he does not remember.

But the evidence is already available. From now on, Kuro will kill this boy.

The sword arm has been trained since he was little. However, he has never killed anyone. It would be a lie if he said that he is not scared, but there is no doubt.

(This is the last difficult task.)

Miwa's smiling face after entrusting his life to Kuro was revived, and Kuro focused on the hand holding the sword.

The sword "Kotowari" that Miwa entrusted to him to fulfill his last mandate. He will not needlessly unsheathe this sword.

"Isana Yashiro!"

Kuro proudly pronounced the name the boy gave himself. Grab the handle of the sword with both hands and prepare.

"The word of the seventh king, Miwa Ichigen, is to take your life."

"Wait a minute!"

"Take this!"

The boy turned around and started running.

Kuro didn't chase after him, activating his right hand. It is the power to ignore space and grab the desired object, manifested as a member of the Colorless Clan. He can call it an invisible hand.

Kuro grabs the boy's neck and uses his long, invisible hand to hang him up in the air so he can't escape.

"Are you really going to kill me?!"

The boy screamed, flapping his limbs in the air unsteady. Kuro lowers his eyebrows at the evil of his death.

"Resign yourself!"

"No! I'm innocent! Is it Miwa's order to kill an innocent person?!"

"Innocent?"

Kuro turned his eyes to a huge monitor on the wall of the building. There was still a still image of the boy holding a gun with an evil look.

Kuro released the ability of the right hand dangling the boy. Catch the falling boy with one hand, turn around and look at the giant monitor.

The boy looked ridiculous at the motionless evidence.

"Ah... I may not seem innocent. But aren't you saying it right? People aren't watching, let's judge from the content."

"My idea is that people are not what they seem, they are not what they are on the inside, they should be judged for their actions."

"No, that's why I'm telling you it's not me! You're wrong!"

"No matter how you look at it, it's you. Don't swear wrong!"

“If I took a hundred steps, why didn't you kill me? If I were a murderer, the police would arrest me, the prosecution would prosecute and the judge would decide, that is the right way to go in a law-abiding country."

"My Lord is not in this country. It is only Miwa's word."

First of all, “King” is not something that the police can handle, and since it has no public existence, it does not go through the country's judicial power. There is an alternate organization, "Scepter 4," but Kuro had no intention of leaving this mission, which he received from Miwa, to others.

The boy drowned as if he had lost his power.

"Ok... I can't help saying this. Boil me or bake me, whatever you want."

"Finally ripe."

"But in the end, please allow me to make a request."

When a dying person asks him to make a final request, he can't do anything, but Kuro thought about it for a moment and then replied, "Tell me."

When he released the captured hand, the boy took a seat across from Kuro.

“I want to write a suicide note. To my sister."

"Sister?!"

"Yes. To remember me. I can't help you trust my innocence. But I don't want my sister to believe that someone else killed me."

Criminals have families too. That's obvious. However, Kuro got upset when he was hit by the obvious.

"My sister was born seriously ill and has been hospitalized for a long time. She has never had friends since she was a child, and I am the only person she can talk to... If they killed me, my sister would be alone."

His sister is not guilty. Even though she was sick and hospitalized, he wondered how sad she would be if she didn't have her brother, and Kuro went hard.

The boy took out a sheet of paper and a pen to write a suicide note and wrote something soft. Facing the suspicious boy who decided to make a decision, Kuro asked a question.

"What is your sister's name?"

He wondered if he wanted to postpone the innocent girl's misfortune even further. Maybe the boy was thinking of something else, he glanced at the brochure swaying in the wind on the edge of the rooftop and said vaguely.

"Marilyn."

"What?"

"Oh, yes, Mari. She's Mari."

"Isana Mari. It's a good name."

The boy's pen stopped and the completed suicide note was folded and presented to Kuro.

"Thanks. Well done. Hey, but will you give this to my sister?"

Imagine a little girl crying in a hospital bed, Kuro took a break. The boy ran to Kuro, who was holding his hand to grab that, and said...

"Please. No one else can ask. Because my sister will be alone for the rest of her life..."

When Kuro picked up the letter, the boy stepped back a bit.

He looked at the folded suicide note written in a short time, like a shopping note, and carefully opened it.

Kuro averted his eyes, at the thing that jumped into his sight.

"What is this?!"

When he raised his face, the boy opened a red umbrella and had a round object in his hand, be it a bomb or a firework.

Before Kuro could recover from his surprise, the boy dropped the round object in his hand onto the concrete and turned his back on it.

Frush! An intense light flooded the rooftop. Kuro closes his eyes and covers his face with his arms.

When the light that had lasted for a few seconds faded and Kuro opened his eyes, there was no one there.

There is a door that leads to the ajar building, a protective umbrella that the boy has thrown away, a dog character costume that seems to have been left by a human in this building, and on the ground the suicide note that Kuro grabbed, a paper with a cartoon that raises its thumb with its tongue sticking out and says "Lie."

The brochure the boy was looking at next to it is fluttering and rolling. It was a brochure from a store called "BAR Marilyn", depicting a shameful woman with her skirt up.

Kuro stood still and silent for a while as the wind ruffled his long hair.

It took a long time for him to get angry because he was overwhelmed. Gradually, he raised his eyes to the anger rising from the bottom of his stomach and he rushed open the door to follow the boy. The iron door throbbed too hard, but he couldn't afford it.

Once found, Kuro ran down the ladder into the building, with a strong determination to strike and slash without question.

++++++++++

Kusanagi had decided not to choose the media that day.

The video could be broadcast in the city center centered on Shizume-cho. It will soon be removed by "Scepter 4", but it cannot be said that the video once played was completely absent. That footage will continue to run underground for a time, followed by takedowns and resupplies.

Kusanagi looked at the vehicle that was parked. The interior of the car has been remodeled to make it a temporary information room filled with PC devices.

"How's the 'bounty announcement' going?"

"I'll upload it right now!"

Akagi answered Kusanagi's question and hit the "Enter" key on the computer.

The video of the criminal boy who was still on the huge monitor in front of the Shizume-cho station was changed and the announcement began to flow.

"Reward Notice. I am looking for a boy who shot on the rooftop of the Hirazaka 3-2-5 building in Shizume-cho at 11:45 PM on December 7 this year. Those who contribute powerful information about this boy will receive a 10 million yen prize."

The vast majority of humans will consider it a bad joke. But money is power. There will be quite a few people who will be taken seriously if the rewards will be paid with 10 million for the supply of influential information that will lead to the capture of criminals and the rewards will be paid properly even for other trivial information.

In the vehicle, the PDA of the member of "Homura", who is the reception desk at the same time, begins to ring.

"Yes, this is 'Homura'. Are you the person providing the information?"

"Oh, yes. Ten million. What? It's not a lie. Would you mind not speaking ill of us?"

Seeing Akagi and his friends busy, Kusanagi climbed onto the ladder attached to the back of the truck and looked up at the ceiling.

Talk to Anna, a girl in a red dress, sitting on the roof of the vehicle and looking at the map seriously.

"Did you find something, Anna?"

On the map Anna looked at, several red marbles roll by themselves.

Anna was investigating along with Kusanagi in response to the sighting of Akagi's criminal. Although he made her wait in a safe place so she was not in danger, Anna also witnessed the criminal from a distance. Anna, who recognized the sign of the other party, followed the boy with her sensitive ability.

Anna stared at the marbles without responding for a while. Kusanagi silently watches over his whereabouts so as not to disturb her concentration.

Finally, the rolling marbles gathered in a certain place and stopped.

"Here."

Anna points to a point on the map. Kusanagi raised his hand with the meaning of understanding and appreciation, immediately manipulated his PDA, looked for the map, marked the area indicated by Anna, and sent it to all the members of "Homura".

There was immediate reaction to the group call from the online criminal search members.

“This is a clue! I get it. I'll go immediately!"

The violent voice that answered is Yata's. It seems that he has come a long way, perhaps due to the regret that the black dog has rid himself of the criminal in front of his.

"I went into an alley that is not on the map, hahaha."

"Don't laugh, stupid!"

“Understood… This is Kamamoto. Hmm... I can't let go of my hands, and a little more... Ah, add fried rice!"

"Don't buy any more food!"

"Hey, who are you? What did you say about "Homura"?"

"Ah, is there someone who has made a fool of 'Homura'? Put a marker in the place, we go immediately!"

Kusanagi laughed bitterly as he smoked a cigarette and listened to the loud exchanges of the members.

“Search correctly. Ah, I don't know what to do with the black dog. I can´t help you. Kusanagi, over and out."

Kusanagi sighed slightly after leaving the group call despite Yata's unhappy voice.

"It's not okay, they're just kids."

++++++++++

Kuro was angry.

After all, he couldn't sympathize with the evil "King" and should hate that heinous assassin, Kuro bit his immaturity.

"I'm sorry, Ichigen-sama. However, tonight, I, Yatogami Kuro, am sure that I will fulfill my mission."

Kuro put his left hand on his sword sheath, "Kotowari", with determination.

"Where are you? Isana Yashiro! Get outside!"

The people who are after the fox are roaring loudly in the city.

Listen to the rubbing of the wheels against the ground. Kuro doesn't move and turns his face towards him.

A boy with a metal bat rushes straight towards Kuro, riding a skateboard while spewing flames from all over his body in the form of anger.

Is it the red clan member he encountered earlier? He knows how he feel, but now he is busy...

Kuro frowned slightly and put his strength into his bent legs. To dodge the boy who is rushing towards him with a metal bat, jump high and descend into the street light. He misses the time he was talking about now.

Yata, a member of the red clan on the skateboard, stood up to Kuro's level staring at him.

"Hey, Black dog! Where is that boy?"

"Member of the red clan. What is that?"

"I'm asking where the guy who hid is! If you don't want to hurt yourself, give me a quick answer!"

He can't afford to be a kid. The eyes looking at Yata grew colder than necessary.

"I don't have time to deal with you. Stay away from it."

The murder signal is increasing. Irritation from others rubs off and the air becomes hot.

A suddenly blurry voice echoed in the room.

"Oh, Yatogami-kun! I think I can escape from here. I'm going to get there soon!"

Kuro has doubts and looks for the origin of the voice. Then, he sees a person waving from the rooftop in front of the building.

Without a doubt, the evil "King" who called himself Isana Yashiro.

"You damn..."

Keeping people confused with such a lie, what is he planning?

At the same time that Kuro sharpened his eyes, Yata sharpened his teeth.

"You…!"

"You can defeat such a person in one fell swoop, beat him quickly, and come here soon!"

The boy says that. You see, the purpose is for Kuro to hit the red clansman and escape in the meantime? The villain who keeps circling the tolerance meter, Kuro raised his sword.

"Sorry! I'll tie that guy up after I crush you!"

Yata, easily fanned, raised the outer corners of his eyes and barked. It seemed unlikely that his eyes, burning with anger, would put out the fire, and he decided it was impossible to leave.

Even though Kuro pretends to be calm, he is overwhelmed. He looks at Yata from the high place and says chillingly.

"If you try to fight me, expect no mercy."

"Damn!"

Yata kicked the ground and ran. From the skeleton wheels that skim the surface of the street, flames erupt like a raging wave.

Kuro extends his right hand and extends his invisible hand towards Yata.

However, Yata may have learned from the fact that he was caught in the hand of a different talent down the alley. He deftly steers his skateboard to avoid Kuro's extraordinary hand and heads towards him.

Then, Kuro switched his target from Yata himself to around Yata. He concentrates his consciousness, increases the pressure of the power of different abilities, and pinches the surface of the street behind Yata with invisible hands.

Kuro's invisible hands squeeze the asphalt, car stop barriers, and even street lights, bend to pieces, and attack Yata from behind.

"Damn!"

Yata appeared to be swallowed up by the debris. However, he ditched his skateboard and jumped out of the dust onto the sheer rocks attacking him.

Yata, who jumped high using the wind pressure from the steep rocks, jumped to the spot where he was standing in the street light and swung his bat with a joyous voice.

Kuro escaped through the air passing him. The metal bat that cuts through the sky makes a loud metallic noise and hits the streetlight.

In midair, Kuro jumped a step higher, using Yata's face as a springboard, and reached with his invisible hand at the sign on the rooftop of the building that he noticed. Kuro, who was a bit sensitive to the word "sister", feels free to tear off the sign that appears to be an advertisement for a book titled "My Sisters Struggle" and drop it on Yata.

A powerful member of the clan. It won't do much damage, but if he's going to stall, Kuro drops Yata under the sign and jumps onto the rooftop of the building where the boy was.

Kuro has no reason to compete with the red clan member. All Kuro has to do is find the evil "King" before them and kill him for that "reason" before it turns into a great battle.

The boy was no longer on the roof where he had been screaming.

Kuro takes out a small emblem from his pocket, which he cut from the boy's neck when he swung his sword. Kuro tightly gripped the emblem, which is the emblem of Ashinaka High School.

"I will not let you escape."

++++++++++

Get home safely.

The boy arrives at Gakuenjima's bedroom, which is his current home, and walks over to the bed in his beloved room to lie down.

"Oh... I'm tired..."

He literally thought he was going to die.

He was glad that Kuro was a silly, serious and good person. His sick sister's lie that he thought had happened once, and among the fireworks he had, there was a flash ball for the production of events (there was a mysterious sales season called "One Step Before Military Supplies!") , and the fact that the costume was left on the ceiling saved the boy's life.

He dazzled with a flash ball and quickly donned the costume, escaping from Kuro who thought the boy had run away. Fortunately, he got away with the costume because it belonged to a popular dog character often seen walking around town on campaign. After all, it was right after a flashy video of a person with the boy's face killing a person. He was grateful that he could move around without being seen by people.

Along the way, he escaped while disturbing the people who were looking for the boy and the people who set fire, and he managed to return to Gakuenjima. He was unable to fulfill his mission because he had used the fireworks that Kukuri had asked him to bring. He will have to apologize to Kukuri tomorrow.

Following the boy who was weak and lying on the bed, the kitten who overcame a difficult adventure jumped to the headboard and meowed cutely.

"What was that, who are those people?"

The boy closed his eyes with a soft duvet. When he lowered his eyelids, he did not have time to desperately reflect during the trip, the image of a person who looks like him with a gun comes to mind.

"Was the person in that video... really me?"

Do not understand. It must have been a mediocre day. The days of floating fluffy while watching his friends' smiles without having to think about anything are about to be reversed.

"Somehow, it seems to be troublesome..."

"Hmm. I've been doing it quietly until now."

The boy's eyes suddenly opened when there was a close response to the boy's soliloquy. There was white skin there.

A member lying in a gentle curve. Rounded butt, narrow waist, flat chest and gently reshaped over sheets, smooth shoulders. There was no fabric to cover them, just long hair that flowed along her body.

A girl.

Naked

A naked girl.

At the same time as the recognition, blood pooled on the boy's cheeks.

"Waaaaaah?"

The biggest scream that came out today.

Whether he's about to get hit by a flaming metal bat, a flying fireball, a sudden aerial walk, or a sword that's about to cut his through, his voice so far hadn't come out.

"Who you are?"

The girl woke up with a mysterious look as she jumped back and saw the boy with his back pressed against the wall.

A pretty girl of fifteen or sixteen. She has strange, large, almond-shaped eyes, with different colors on the left and right like a cat. One blue eye and one gold eye lined by long gleaming eyebrows.

The girl from the deep looked down at her body and made a slight "Ah." look, but soon turned to the boy with a smile in full bloom.

He doesn’t know why a beautiful naked and unknown girl can give such a pretty smile.

She said happily.

"I am Neko!"

++++++++++

Ashinaka High School. Known as Gakuenjima.

The evil "King" wore the emblem of this school, which is the entire school island in Tokyo Bay.

It's ok to cross the bridge to the Gakuenjima entrance, but it seems that you can only enter the school grounds through the automatic gate at the entrance. Outsiders were told that they would not be able to enter without a guest pass issued by student association staff or officials.

It seems that if you have a matter, you have to go to the window for the visitors, but even if you make a statement in the window, it will be difficult for Kuro to get a guest pass issued.

When Kuro tried to direct his skill towards the door, he was greeted with a bright and gentle voice.

"Ah, what do you need?"

When he turned around, a girl who seemed to be a student from this school was smiling. She has shoulder-length brown hair and side ornaments.

"Kukuri, what happened? Do you know him?"

"No, but he seems to be in trouble."

A girl named Kukuri shakes her head, surprised by a schoolgirl who appears to be a friend. He was impressed by the kindness with which she called, probably because he was carrying some suitcases.

"I'm looking for a man named Isana. Do you have any ideas?"

"Isana...? Oh, Shiro-kun, I'm a classmate."

The girl answered so easily. In such a large school, Kuro leans towards the luck of suddenly meeting that man's classmate.

"Where is he currently?"

“Where… I think he went shopping. Oh, but I think it's about time he came back. Oh, would you like me to guide you to the student dormitories?"

The girl took out a PDA from her pocket and gave Kuro a guest pass. Being able to issue a guest pass probably means that she is a student association officer. At the same time that he is lucky, he thinks of the abominable idiot and the face of the evil "King", saying that Heaven is not on the side of the bad guys.

The girl smiled when she sent him guest pass to Kuro's PDA.

"Yes, this is fine. Follow me! I'll show you the men's dorm."

Kuro bowed deeply to the girl.

"Sorry. Thank you for your cooperation."

"It is an exaggeration. It is a matter of course."

"My master said" There are few people who can do what is natural." I will never forget what you did for me."

The girl laughed shyly.

"Hahaha, you are an interesting person. What kind of relationship do you have with Shiro?"

Kuro tightened his expression and put his hand on the sword at his waist.

"I have something to give him."

"What? Lost property?"

"It is a guide."

The girl bowed her head.

++++++++++

The boy stuck to the wall and was frozen in front of a naked girl who affirmed "I am Neko."

Who is this girl? When she appeared? Why is she naked?

Despite being confused, the boy decided to do something about the third question, so the boy took the coat from the chair and offered it to a naked girl claiming to be a cat.

"And for the moment..."

"No!"

Neko turned around and jumped on the desk to escape. She is terribly light. Really like a cat. But it shouldn't be naked and squatting. It seemed like he could see many things that he shouldn't be able to see, so the boy was sweating coldly and tried to force her to put on his coat.

"Girls shouldn't stay like this!"

"The clothes are annoying, so I don't like them!"

He felt as if he heard a bell ring.

The boy is relieved. Neko who was supposed to be wearing a coat disappeared in an instant. When the boy was confused by the girl who suddenly disappeared, just like when she appeared,

"Do you want to play? Well, it looks like fun!"

A screaming voice came from above. When he looked up, Neko lay down on the furniture and looked at the boy who was wondering when she had moved. The bare chest is crushed by the corners of her face.

When he didn't know what to do... he heard a voice calling him from outside the window.

"Oh, Shiro-kun! I brought a friend!"

It's Kukuri's voice. The word "friend" made him uncomfortable, and the boy rushed to look down from the window.

"How is your sister, Isana Yashiro?"

Next to Kukuri, there was a sword god, Kuro, who ironically raised the edge of his mouth.

The boy attracted a lot of attention.

It is bad. There is only a feeling of having been killed.

Kuro turned his palm towards the window where the boy was. The boy suddenly noticed that mysterious technique and retired to the room. Kuro grabbed the window frame from the boy's room with a mysterious power that seems to be capable of grabbing a distant object and jumped into the room immediately.

The boy somehow thought of engulfing him in smoke again, but this time Kuro didn't even give him a grace. As soon as he lands in the room...

The chill ran, and the boy moved according to his instincts, rolling on the ground and avoiding the sword by a short hair.

Crisp and light, Kuro's sword sits right next to the boy's face.

Really dead. The boy struggled to his feet and tried to escape. The naked sword pursues the boy.

"No!"

It was the girl's nudity that protected the boy from the sword.

The mysterious girl who calls herself Neko seems to have no shame to be naked, and stands in front of Kuro with her arms outstretched.

Suddenly, he froze before the bare wall. The face is tinted bright red.

"Hmm... embarrassing!"

Neko grabbed the boy's hand as Kuro involuntarily walked away. She pulls him hard by the hand.

The boy jumped out of the room and ran down the hall to the bedroom, being dragged by Neko.

Thanks to her nakedness he was saved. However, she is still naked and running in public places is bad.

The boy puts the coat he was holding on Neko.

"This! Put this on!"

Neko, whose head was covered with the boy's coat, was fluffy and small. At the same time, the sound of the bell resounds again.

Immediately, Neko's back running in front of him moved away. The boy staggers at the feeling of confusion. Out of nowhere, Neko suddenly sped up. The corridor has grown.

The corridor, which is not very long, suddenly becomes long enough to run 100 meters in a straight line, and naked Neko turns her back on him and walks away.

"Eh, what?"

The boy is confused and involuntarily stops and looks back. Then this time, the hallway behind the boy got much longer. The entrance to their room, which he had been in before, can be seen in the back, and Kuro who came out of the room to chase them looks like a bean.

Without knowing why, the boy worked again. Follow Neko's back tightly. Beyond the boy's line of sight, he gently jumped out the window. He hopped onto the external emergency stairs of the next building, jumped over the railing, and climbed out onto the next rooftop.

When he thought she really was like a cat, the long corridor suddenly shrunk and the boy was about to crash into the window.

"Wow, is that back? Is that girl's doing...?"

There is no doubt that the naked girl who calls himself Neko has a mysterious power. Maybe the hallway wasn't really stretched out, only the boy assumed it was. But now it is not the case when he is thinking deeply about it. After all, Kuro is chasing the boy from behind, and Neko who just snagged the boy's jacket on her head is trying to run outside, generously exposing her naked body.

The boy imitated Neko and went out the window, more dangerous than for Neko, he followed the bundle out of the window to the emergency stairs of the adjoining building, over the shackles and railings, sliding and clinging to the rain gutter.

The boy turned around, finally reaching for Neko's back who had already descended and was running down the street. Kuro was standing on the rooftop of the building next to the bedroom. Looking down at the boy, he can see his right hand pointing towards him.

It is bad. That mysterious hand will grab him again.

He can't think of a way to escape from that hand, ignoring the distance, the boy stiffened.

Neko who was running ahead looked at Kuro. Neko's eyes, strange eyes with vertically long pupils capture Kuro's appearance.

Hear a bell again.

Then, a small twister erupted on the rooftop where Kuro was. From the center of the twister, a huge bipedal ghost cat appears. A giant monster with a body reminiscent of a professional wrestler looked at Kuro with crescent-shaped eyes and laughed through exposed teeth.

"What is that?"

When the boy took his eyes off her, the cat was furry and naked.

"Strong!"

"That seems strong, but that's not the case... what the hell are you?"

"Wagahai is a cat."

"I heard... a cat..."

Neko smiled a big smile.

"It's a cat that has been with Shiro the whole time!"

Inside the boy, the girl in front of him and that kitten that was friends with the boy overlapped.

Certainly this naked girl appeared in the wrong place with the kitten sleeping next to him. Does that mean this girl is in the shape of a cat? No, the opposite? This girl transformed into that kitten. Rather, if she had the ability to display illusions, it would mean that she had an illusion that made her look like a kitten.

In other words, the boy intended to spend time with the kitten and was actually stroking and hugging a naked girl.

When the boy recalled the dizziness, it seemed like Kuro on the rooftop had already countered the giant monster.

Neko is unmoved by the fact that the giant monster cat has been defeated, and starts running again with a smile and a guard from Kuro. The boy also hurriedly followed her.

While chasing Neko, he noticed that she seemed to be invisible to other humans. It is an incident, a naked girl running around the campus during the day, but no one seems to make a noise even if they run among the students who are busy preparing for the school festival.

Neko running like the wind, with the boy's jacket over her shoulder without closing the front, crashed into a student who was walking with a basket full of oranges. He thinks she plans to make a maid cafe at the school festival. The schoolgirl dressed as a maid looked surprised and dropped the orange she was holding, the boy stopped his leg chasing Neko and stopped, helping her to pick up the orange.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes... there was something invisible..."

Looking at the student who gets confused and says "What...?" Without confidence, he is convinced that Neko is no longer visible except to him and Kuro.

Is it possible to not only show illusions but also make herself invisible? What is this super power that affects a person's cognitive ability?

While he was picking up the oranges and thinking about it, Kuro's footsteps were approaching from behind.

Kuro, who is running with his black hair tied back, is about to turn his palm towards the boy.

Before the boy answered, the bell rang again. Immediately after that, the phase of the place where Kuro is located changed.

Like a deception image, only the path where Kuro was floating in the air, and the place where the path was supposed to be was a wall.

On the crushed stone pavement that turned into an aerial tower, Kuro is standing looking at the boy who has collapsed. If Neko's power is the power to alter perception, there may be a way to step forward, even if it seems like he's gone. But humans can't easily ignore visual information.

The boy looked at the student in front of him, but she didn't seem to notice anything unusual. This illusion seems to work only for Kuro and the boy.

After picking up the orange from the student, the boy raised his hand slightly, greeted her and started running.

The escape and the chase in a world that seemed to lose itself in an image of deception continued for a long time. The boy was chased by Kuro and he is not sure why he is running because he accepted Neko.

It seems that the girl's appearance is not visible to other people, so why not leave her completely naked? Remember that it was not a problem, and that the main purpose he had now was not to dress Neko, but to escape the pursuer Kuro who was trying to kill him.

It was supposed to be a crisis situation, but the reason why he jumped in thought was because Neko who was fleeing to the front seemed to be having fun. Neko was laughing so hard it seemed impossible to think it was a life-threatening escape drama.

"Think, Isana Yashiro! The play is over!"

It's okay to chase after Neko and jump to the back of the school building, but he hit a dead end. Kuro approaches from behind.

Furthermore, the sound of the bell echoed.

"Nya nya nya!"

From the ground between the shrine and Kuro, a huge wall with the face of a ghost cat grows skyward as it screams.

"Anyway, this wall is also an illusion!"

From the other side of the wall, he hears the brave voice of Kuro, who inspires him. Humans can't ignore visual information that easily, but it seems that Kuro decided to believe his rational judgment rather than crazy perception.

Neko lightly tugged on the boy's elbow, who was staring at the wall, involuntarily. He can move a few steps sideways.

In the next moment, the painted wall of the ghost cat's face was scattered like petals from Kuro's assault.

The scene where the illusion was shattered was quite beautiful, and he decided that the illusion wall was an illusion and collided with it, and broken Kuro was echoing.

However, he smashed through the ghost wall, smashed through the place where the boy was standing, and hit the actual wall beyond his face.

It was quite a surreal scene because the look that broke the illusion was great.

"Nyahahahahahaha!"

Neko laughs out loud when she sees Kuro, whose face is buried in the wall.

With awkward and awkward movements, he hit a wall and turned his flushed face away, and Kuro looked towards Neko and the boy.

The voltage of his anger is only increasing, the boy sweats coldly.

However, when Neko saw Kuro, she really enjoyed with her big eyes. It was like a cat playing with prey.

Kuro looks at Neko and turns around. Neko stands happy, trying to protect the boy behind. The original purpose was lost in its pursuit.

Then the sun set, the night passed, and the sun rose again.

Humans, if they're too hungry, their heads won't work.

The boy is accused of murder, he is about to be cut by a guy with a sword, a naked girl shows illusions, and loses the power to think deeply about them. He just remembered the relief that Neko, who was running naked, put on his jacket properly because it was so cold in the middle of the night.

Now the three of them aren't even sure what purpose they were pursuing, and are kneeling in the boy's room, which is the beginning, to get rid of his harsh breath. The fatigue and hunger from not having eaten since last night seems overwhelming.

In the hallway of the student dormitory, the peaceful buzz of boys and girls trying to go to school in uniform resounded, like "Good morning." and "Did you do your homework?"

Kuro was also tired of being thrown during the night. Still, he has not lost sight of his purpose, and when he stands weakly to his feet, he reaches for the sword at his waist.

"Bad "King"... Isana Yashiro... By order of the dead "King"... You..."

However, since he has escaped many times, he is very weak. Also, there is swirling graffiti on the raised Kuro's left cheek, with "stupid" on the right cheek and "meat" on the forehead. It was written by Neko while being carried away by illusion. However, while chasing him, she got used to it, so she didn't laugh anymore.

Looking at Kuro, who was trying his best to draw his sword, the boy was confused on what to do, with a feeling that was different from the already imminent sense of crisis and was mixed with a slight sense of humor.

At that moment, a sad sound and signal was heard. It's Neko's belly.

"Shiro, I'm hungry… Ah~"

At what was said, the boy's belly screamed and responded.

"At the moment... aside from the accumulated stories, why don't we eat?"

At the boy's suggestion, Kuro frowned, "What...?", But his belly obediently complained of hunger.

The boy was flirting and standing up to him.

"Thanks for your support."

It's okay to put the problem aside for the moment and eat, but the boy had no other household skills than cooking rice.

It seems that Neko loves to eat too, but she can't seem to cook like a natural thing, and when they stood in the kitchen and talked about how they could make something that they could eat, it seemed like they couldn't make it. He stood up.

When he sees a briefcase that appeared to be stuffed with guns on the table, does he want to kill before meals? Although it was loud, when he opened it, there were some kitchen gadgets like his own kitchen knife and condiments that he thought were professional.

What kind of person is this guy, a chef who thinks he is a samurai? The boy is confused and watches Kuro's tendency.

Kuro first looked inside the refrigerator and looked at him.

The contents of the refrigerator in the room of the boy who does not cook is deficient. There are some ingredients that can barely be made with miso soup, but there is nothing that can be a side.

"Shall we go shopping? Because there is something like a supermarket on campus."

"I want to eat fish!"

Kuro looked at the boy and Neko with a hard look, and fell silent with a thoughtful look for a moment. Finally, he turns to Neko instead of the boy.

"Do you want to eat fish?"

"Yes!"

"Then buy three horse mackerel. The skin is crispy and the inside is smooth and juicy."

"Nyaa!"

Neko happily makes her eyes shine.

"If you put some soy sauce on the freshly baked horse mackerel, it tastes great. Because it's simple, it tastes universal and happy."

Horse mackerel, Neko sniffed at the drool.

"Then let's buy eggs. Do you like rolled eggs?"

"Dashimaki?"

"It is a dish that is made by mixing many sardines with broth and eggs, and rolling it while baking. It is a soft and smooth food with a spongy dashi aroma. When you put it in your mouth with grated radish, the flavor is accentuated and returns to be delicious."

Neko's drool could no longer be held and hung from the edge of her mouth. Kuro looked into Neko's eyes and said.

"You want to eat?"

"I want to eat!"

"Well. Then go buy it. Write down any other necessary items in a note. Well, your most important role is definitely bringing Isana Yashiro back to this room. If you run away, you won't be able to eat the delicious food I just mentioned. Do you understand?"

"Okay! Wagahai will eat delicious fish and dashimaki with Shiro!"

It seems like he intends to catch Neko with her appetite and make sure the boy doesn't run away.

In the chase during the night, Kuro seemed to have grasped Neko's characteristics to some extent. The endurance game that lasted over a dozen hours, gave birth to a kind of strange bond between the three of them. There is no trust in her, but he can somehow understand the points that he can trust.

He won't run away anymore... He's so hungry that he doesn't know where to run since he found his home, so he only wants to talk quietly once.

The boy laughed bitterly and watched the exchange between Kuro and Neko.

Steam comes out of the rice cooker and there is a slightly sweet aroma that can cook boy's favorite rice.

But that is not all today. The fragrant smell of burning fish mixed there, playing an indescribable harmony.

Wearing a pink apron, Kuro rhythmically cuts the onions. The boy gazed admiringly at the onions, which quickly and accurately became increasingly thin.

Tofu miso soup is made on the stovetop next to the fish, which has a small, crackling, explosive skin and is exquisitely browned.

After chopping the onions, Kuro takes it upon himself to bake rolled eggs with one fluent hand.

After chopping the onions, Kuro takes it upon himself to bake rolled eggs with one fluent hand.

The egg, which was stirred well in a bowl and mixed with the broth, soy sauce, mirin, etc., was rubbed with a strainer, and the liquid egg was poured into a heated, oiled pan. The egg makes noise and hardens in good condition. Kuro started to roll it into a half mature state with beautiful movements.

"Oh~"

The boy and Neko involuntarily give a voice of admiration. The belly of the two screamed again.

When the eggs in the skillet are tightly rolled, the remaining egg liquid is also poured out and rolled further. In the blink of an eye, a beautiful rolled egg was completed and Kuro put out the fire.

At the same time, the sound of cooking rice resounds, and the fish appears to be baked and the grill rises.

It was a wonderful skill to finish everything at the same time.

The boy and Neko make their eyes shine on the table. It's simple, but that's why it stimulates an empty stomach.

He didn't have all the china in the boy's living room, so he bought it when he was shopping for ingredients.

While shopping, he offered to buy a bowl for Neko and was delighted with her large eyes glowing brightly. Along with Neko, who carefully selects her favorite tea bowl, the boy also chose tableware for Kuro. He doesn't eat as often in the boy's room, but he can't bear to let him eat white rice from a flat plate or drink miso soup from a cup.

Kuro opens the rice cooker. The white steam that smelled of freshly cooked rice rose, and Neko happily offered her a new bowl of tea of ​​her choice. He's staring into her glowing eyes as another rice is spilled.

A boy dressed in a killer robe, a guy trying to cut it, and a mysterious girl who suddenly appeared and was believed to be a normal kitten until yesterday, like a united family, clasped their hands around the warm rice.

"Itadakimasu!"

When he sipped the miso soup, the moderate salty taste and aroma of the soup spread through his mouth. The ingredients are simple, tofu and fried, but the boy thought it was the first time he had had such a delicious miso soup.

"It's delicious! It's really delicious!"

The boy lifts the cheeks with red tide. Kuro didn't look careless, but he snorted with a casual expression.

Neko also hurries, squeezes the muff and rice, and enjoys the fish. However, she didn't seem to be very good at using chopsticks and she spilled grains of rice in a conspicuous way.

When he saw how Neko was eating, he looked up and pulled the voice recorder from his chest.

"Rice is important, chew it well."

A man's deep voice rang out from the voice recorder. It was a good voice that was smart but also had a mysterious feel to it, but the boy twisted his head at a strange word like haiku, slogan, etc.

"That's…"

Kuro's eyes said, "Do you want to listen?" He turned to the boy as his eyes twinkled. Seeing his glowing eyes, he said that he was talking about a mysterious tape recorder, the boy was sensitive to the long annoying air it created, and the sign that a story was likely to unfold that the boy didn't care, and he quickly turned his important attention to the rice.

As he cut the fluffy rolled egg into bite-size pieces with his chopsticks, cut out the story of the person that is important to the guy.

"By the way, I want to ask you now."

When the boy changed, Kuro also turned to the boy, erasing the childish expression he wanted to show off when he played the tape recorder.

"In the first place, who are those men who chased me?"

They were people who manipulated supernatural powers, such as attacking with a metal bat that spewed flames and shooting fireballs with cigarettes. Both Kuro and Neko have a mysterious power, so the boy feels lost if he is the only common person.

"A member of their clan was killed. They are seeking revenge."

"Clan member? Are they a runaway tribe or a mafia or something?"

"Clan is a group that follows the 'King', and Clansman is a member of it. The 'Red King' Suoh Mikoto is the 'King' of the third clan, and the most temperamental man among the 'Kings'."

Clan, clan member, "King", "Red King".

The boy freezes slightly, writing down the words that appear in his head.

"In short, the head of the supernatural powers? Is there some other group like that? Do you mistake me for the criminal who killed that member?"

"I am not mistaken; you are the criminal himself. When I finish eating this, I will crush you properly."

The boy was told with a very serious look and a tone that declared that he would take care of the domestic matters he had to do.

"Yes..." He withdrew.

Although he is eating rice with him, he seems willing to carry out the execution after the meal. There are simple parts that are easy to use in Kuro and stubborn parts that are unlikely to bend smoothly, and it seems easy to understand and difficult to read.

"Fill it up!"

Neko, who was happily eating, happily handed the empty tea bowl to Kuro. Kuro receives his bowl and tries to serve rice naturally as if he is doing it every day.

"Oh, yeah, me too!"

They have an especially delicious side dish today, and the boy's favorite white rice is on the rise. Kuro silently stared for a few seconds at the boy who took advantage of Neko and pushed the tea bowl away.

"Well, this is probably the last white rice of my life."

With a light sigh, Kuro also received the boy's tea bowl.

He doesn't want this to be the last meal, but the white rice he eats with the garnish that Kuro made is really delicious, so the boy chews the stuffed rice he got and puts a juicy fish on it.

"I know why they are after me, but why are you trying to kill me in the first place? You are not a partner of those people, right?"

It seemed like a lonely little shadow had fallen over his eyes.

"Because I am a vassal of the Seventh King, the former 'Colorless King'."

"Colorless?"

"It means it has no color. My deceased master ordered me to carefully identify the next 'King' and if he is bad, I will not hesitate to eliminate him. He had the power to predict the future."

He must have longed for the dead master. When talking about that person called Miwa Ichigen, Kuro has a scathing tone.

"The power of prophecy... "Colorless King"... What is that "King" you mentioned earlier?"

"He has great power and embodies the reason of this world. The power of the 'King' is moving this country. It is something that ordinary human beings do not know."

It's a tremendous story and the boy makes his eyes go round

"I was wondering if the Prime Minister was the greatest in this country..."

The current prime minister, Samukawa Kanichi, is not very popular but he is not very obnoxious and he is a person who still maintains a medium approval rating. There is no atmosphere like that of a king, but in this country where there should be no royal system, Prime Minister Kanichi should have the decision-making power to move the country first.

"Now, the politics and economy of this country cannot be established without the power of one man. Japan, which became a defeated country and was eaten by the surrounding countries, could now become the greatest economic and technological power of the world because of the appearance of that man in this country."

"Who is that man?"

"He is called the 'Golden King'. His power is secretly everywhere, for example..."

Kuro poured the soy sauce into the chabudai and took the PDA out of his pocket.

"Both were created by a company controlled by the 'Golden King'."

Soy sauce, PDA, gender and manufacturer are different, but both are famous brands that are spread all over the world.

“The head of those people with fire powers, you said he is the 'Red King', right? Is there red and gold?"

"There are seven kings."

"Seven people?"

Kuro took out various condiments from the briefcase containing a set of kitchen utensils and placed them on the table.

The seven seasonings with different colors on the tops can indicate seven "kings" respectively. Kuro puts his index finger on the seasoning on the red cap that contains paprika powder.

"The character of the clan is completely different depending on the 'king' who rules. For example, if you describe the Red Clan in one word, it is violence."

The boy instinctively frowned, "Uh…". He is being attacked by people who are like symbols of violence. The boy on the skateboard who attacked the boy with a metal bat without asking questions was certainly violent language.

"That is a very close-knit clan, which is united with an elegance darker than blood. Killing that member was a very stupid thing on the part of the new 'King'."

"That's why! It's definitely about someone else! I'm not a 'King' and I didn't kill anyone in the first place!"

The boy is quick to insist on the premise of something he does not remember. Kuro sipped tea silently with a nasty face.

Neko, who should be on the boy's side, seems not to be interested in the story of the two, and when she finished eating the rice, she got on the bed and started playing with the boy's umbrella.

"The 'King' is the one that moves the economy and is the boss of the mafia, right? A high school student living a mediocre life like me is not a 'King'!"

“I have said that the nature of the 'King' varies. There are several ways to do it. The fourth royal authority, the "Blue King", is the head of an institutional police organization for those who have powers, while the first royal authority has immutable power, but is shrouded in mystery. He is patrolling the sky over Tokyo in an airship without fulfilling the role of 'King'."

"Airship... Oh, I certainly could see it. That's a 'King' too, isn't it..."

There is something strangely intriguing, and the boy hugs himself around his belly on the shirt.

“Furthermore, although the existence of the fifth 'King', the 'Green King' has been confirmed, but he has not appeared on the table and appears to be planning something under the surface. It's no wonder if you're a newborn 'King', a high school student, or if you're hiding your status and power as a 'King' and killing for an evil purpose."

"Oh... what does that mean..."

“There is a mysterious relic called "Dresden Slate" that selects the "King" and grants him great power. It is said to be a huge block of stone with a mysterious power that was discovered and studied in Dresden, Germany, during World War II. After the war, the Slate was brought to Japan and is now kept in the Mihashira Tower, which is the residence of the "Golden King". I've never really seen it. The criteria for the Slate to choose the 'King' are unknown, but history shows that not only are good people chosen, and that position and age have nothing to do with it."

"Hmm...", the boy gave a warm reply.

"But I don't have any supernatural powers..."

"Is that what you are hiding? The Seventh King, the "Colorless King", is a special "King" who has different characteristics for each generation. What kind of power and what role does he play appears on the Slate. It is said to be a prankster who knows no limits, the king of clowns. So I don't know what kind of power you have, even if you're hiding it."

"No, I'm not hiding it..."

"Just what is common to successive 'Colorless Kings'."

Without hearing the boy's objections, Kuro continues.

"The 'Colorless King', good or bad, has the power to interfere with the 'King' and change the balance of power between the 'Kings'. The predecessor, Ichigen Miwa, was a kind person. He was doing his best as mediator so that there would not be a conflict between the 'Kings'. The new 'Colorless King', as 'King' has shed human blood, and I cannot forgive him for causing and causing chaos!"

In front of Kuro, who speaks enthusiastically, the boy again heaves a heavy sigh.

Perhaps Neko was tired of playing alone, she returned to the kotatsu and picked up a piece of fish that was slightly stuck to the plate with her finger and put it in her mouth.

Each plate was carefully emptied. When Kuro put his hands on the plate he had finished eating, the boy did the same.

"Thanks for the food."

When Kuro and the boy talked to each other, Neko compared them to each other, clasped his hands as if to look at them and said, "Sorry."

Kuro drinks the hot tea and stands up naturally.

"It's time to kill you."

So, Kuro said that with the same ease as if he said that he would go to a convenience store.

Neko jumps up and poses intimidatingly while yelling "Shah!" The boy was impatient and held out his hand.

"Wait, wait! Then it's funny! Let's calm down! The reason you want to kill me is because I'm the evil 'Colorless King', right? What's the evidence?"

"That video."

"It's so easy to fake! Don't you think that's funny? Why would I call myself the 'Colorless King'?"

"Evil, you reveal yourself."

"If it were so… I made a mess with those dangerous people, I'd already be running away to a safer place! Right?"

Kuro looked away with a thoughtful gaze, but it seems his determination to kill him hasn't changed yet. The boy says desperately.

"I said it many times, I'm just a mediocre high school student!"

"So who is she? Is she not your clan member?"

Kuro pointed at Neko. Neko, who was still intimidating, turned to her own topic and showed her big eyes as if she had struck the void.

"Eh? No... She is..."

The boy looks at Neko from head to toe. The beautiful long-haired girl, who wears only the boy's uniform coat and exposes her bare feet in the harsh place, does the movements that animals actually perform, as she claims to be a cat.

Apparently, it is the identity of the kitten who was friends with the boy, but that is not what he wants to hear and the boy had no words to explain what she was.

The boy asks Neko directly.

"Who are you? Or what are you?"

"Wagahai is a cat!"

Neko said it like she did at the beginning, and she was very excited.

Kuro puts his hand on his jaw as he ponders.

“A Strain… Is she here by chance? Cannot be."

"Strain?"

"A person who has her own special power without being granted by a 'King'. Some people have it."

The boy asked Neko, "Is that so?", But Neko tilted her head with a smile.

"I don't understand anything, but I'm Shiro's cat, and Shiro is mine!"

Neko declares that in a good mood and starts dancing around happily.

Kuro also thought that it was difficult to think that this innocent girl understood the story of the evil "King" or was his vassal.

The boy turned to Kuro and faced him with the greatest sincerity he had.

"Hey, Kuro Yatogami. This is probably some kind of unfair accusation. I'm going to clear up that suspicion in front of you! And I'll ask those scary people to clear up the misunderstanding. No!"

Holding his fist in front of his chest, the boy insisted.

"Your deceased master said to identify the other person and kill him if he was evil, right? Then identify me correctly, if I am good or bad!"

Kuro straightened his line of sight towards the boy and paused to think a bit. Finally, he took out of his pocket that voice recorder that played during meals and handed it to the boy.

"Press a button."

"Hey?"

"Do it."

The atmosphere cannot be maintained any longer, the boy gets confused and presses a button, "Well then..."

"Do not judge the cold, without first knowing the heat of the burning sun."

A good voice flowed with astringency, depth and sensuality.

"What is that?"

The boy was very confused, but Kuro was convinced of something.

"Don't make a quick decision. You have apparently earned a chance to live, Isana Yashiro."

Even with a smile, he was confused. He's not sure what that means, but for the first time, he's happy that Kuro's attitude has softened and the boy's expression relaxes.

"Shiro is fine. Yes, can I call you Kuro?"

"Isana Yashiro."

Kuro, who called him by his full name to cut off his offer, stretched his back and looked at the boy with a stern look.

"I will identify you as you say, and if I find out that you are evil, I will kill you immediately. Okay?"

He thinks he was stubborn, loud, but sincere. In response to Kuro's statement, the boy smiled and asked for a handshake and extended his right hand.

"Thank you, Kuro. That is enough for now."

"If you are grateful, thank Ichigen-sama for advising me."

Kuro doesn't hold his hand and walks away.

The fact that he gave up means that the voice of that recorder is the voice of "Ichigen Miwa". The boy wondered why he was really worried about the tape recorder containing Miwa's mysterious words.

"What is that voice recorder?"

At that moment, the atmosphere Kuro was wearing changed. The atmosphere becomes brighter as if a flower is blooming, and a loose smile is shown as if such a face is made, and the cheeks become red.

He seemed to be excited and began to speak rapidly while breathing.

"This is…! This is a record of the words of the late master, Ichigen-sama. The words of Ichigen-sama, who was also an avant-garde poet, were so connotative and beautiful! I was recording it. It was not enough. burn it on my soul, and I still get lost."

Out of breath, Kuro presses the switch on the recorder.

"Occasionally walk the path you have chosen, the path of your dreams."

"Miwa's words" flow from the tape recorder, and during the narration period, he listens with an elated face that appears to have been beaten. Stained like an apple, Kuro picked up the recorder and looked at the boy with a proud face.

"That's what I'm saying!"

"How awful!"

An honest impression came out of the boy's mouth.

++++++++++

Wagahai is a cat. There is no name yet.

She feels like she used to have one, but she forgets. So a cat is just a cat.

Neko is now curled up on the boy's bed in the shape of a kitten.

She chased him from last night until morning, and when she had breakfast, she made her sleepy, so the boy said, "We will sleep for the moment."

The boy is sleeping under the blanket where the cat is curled up, and on a small tatami space, Kuro is leaning against the wall, sleeping with a sword in a sitting position.

Neko doesn't like Kuro. He came to destroy the happy days with the boy.

There is no way she will like people who say terrible things like kill the boy.

However, the rice he made was so delicious that she forgives him a bit. Especially the fish with crispy skin and plump body was wonderful.

Inside the room with the curtains closed, the morning sun shines through the gap, but it is comfortable and dim.

Neko tried to fall asleep as she was, and after thinking for a moment, she moved towards him. Bring her face to the boy's face and wave by bringing the tips of their noses together.

"Good luck, Shiro."

Neko snuggled into a position where the boy's body temperature could be felt. It is not cold here.  She is not alone. She liked this place where she could hear the boy breathing next to her.

Neko is from Shiro, and Shiro is from Neko.

Feeling the temperature of her favorite company, Neko closes her eyes and enters the world of dreams.