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sukirichi · 3 years

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sweet lies [03.final]

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

cw. toxic! megumi, SEXY TOXIC MEGUMI 🥵, toxic college settings, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasm, orgasm denial, explicit smut, car sex, biting, scratching, sukuna is a sex god, MEGUMI WITH A LIP RING, slight angst

note. FINALLY FINISHED THIS SERIES AAAAHHH I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS I HAD A LOT OF FUN WITH THIS SERIES TYSM FOR EVERYTHING! lotsa lub lub for each and everyone of you! anyways let me just say...sweet lies sukuna can politely rail me.

series masterlist | 01 | 02 | 03

It’s…a different story when you have to move back and forth between your newly made acquaintance slash fuck buddy, Sukuna, to your actual fuck buddy and crush, Megumi.

Sukuna’s polite enough to not meddle into your business as he’s promised, which you’re extremely thankful for, but you should’ve known the bubble of happiness would pop the moment you stepped out of your apartment. You’ve left your phone unattended and on silent, earbuds always placed inside to ignore Megumi’s calls.

It’s funny, actually, that he’s never replied much to you before other than occasional dick pic and ‘you awake baby?’ but ever since you’ve been…pre-occupied, suddenly you’re on top of his contacts.

You grumble at the vibration of your phone, Megumi’s name flashing on the screen. Back then, you would’ve soared and jumped to pick up the call, voice sultry and toes pointed at the ceiling as you try to keep in your giggles. Now, you’re dreading it, glaring at his annoyingly handsome contact icon that used to make your heart skip a beat. You’re studying in the library and have been doing a terrific job at avoiding him so far, and today won’t be any different.

With a sigh, you completely flip your phone upside down and turn back to your book. You’re on the second line of the paragraph when you feel large, warm hands caress the back of your neck, tilting you upwards to meet his curious – and certainly annoyed – blue eyes.

“Babe,” Megumi drawls out, minty breath fanning your cheeks.

He looks absolutely stunning today, plain and casual yet so handsome in just a black hoodie and sweatpants, his dark hair slicked back to reveal his forehead. For a guy who sure pounded into your skill he had no interest in you that went beyond sexual, he sure did know you well enough, the slight tugging of his lips a sign he could easily read through you. It makes you huff away from him, scooting – trying is the keyword – away from his touch. Megumi’s persistence leads him into you placing you right above his lap and cages you between his arms, chin on your shoulder and his breath floating over your ear.

You can’t help but squirm in embarrassment. Half of the students in the campus library have turned to look at you, and Megumi merely smiles at the attention, audacious enough to kiss the shell of your ear.

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him! In reality, you really do want to fuck him.

“Why have you been ghosting me?”

“I wasn’t ghosting you, Megumi, it’s called being busy. You ever tried doing homework?”

“You’re so mean to me today,” he pouts, but that pout soon brightens into a smile when you scowl at him. Megumi, albeit never really paying attention to you, your facial expressions have registered as second nature to him now. It doesn’t take much before you soften under his hold, still as mushy as ever, and the nasty fucker basks in it proudly. “There’s a party tonight at Okkotsu’s house, said his parents were away in Greece or some rich family shit. Wanna come and get wasted with me?”

“I don’t know, Megs, I have an essay to finish…”

“Come on, it’s just one night. It won’t hurt,” he shrugs and sways you to side to side, causing your heart to sway side to side in giddiness. It’s this – moments like this – that really fools you into believing Megumi likes you. And that sweet lie only turns sweeter from his words that drip like honey, “Plus, I’ve missed you. Can’t think straight when we’ve been apart for too long, baby.”

You pretend to think about it.

That slight falter in a split second brings about a waver in Megumi’s confident you didn’t think would be possible. Not that you can blame him; you never did have to think about it whenever he invites you to fuck around with him. In fact, you say yes a lot faster than he can ask you something, but something’s been changing you lately – or rather someone.

In the end though, you’ll circle up right where you belong.

Relishing in the rarity of having Megumi coddle you with kisses and affection, his perfume still as boyish and vanilla that deluded you into his faux aura of a sweet boy, you melt one more time. Hopefully, it would transition into a one last time before Megumi’s completely wrapped you around his finger.

“Fine. I’m leaving if it’s too noisy though.”

“Awesome,” Megumi chirps, pulling you in for a long, solid kiss. It takes you back by surprise that you end up wide-eyed above him, stiff hands on his shoulders as you feel him smile through the kiss. Then, just as you’re about to kiss him back with the same passion, Megumi separates himself from you and squeezes your ass. “Promise we’ll have fun, babe. I’ll even bring extra condoms.”

You’re not surprised he left afterwards.

But are you hurt? Most definitely so.

Fuck Fushiguro Megumi.

You were going to leave him, block him, ignore him, avoid him, and carve him out of your heart for good. It’s what you deserve – to be freed from such a toxic guy like him. His pretty face shouldn’t be an excuse for you stick around any longer. That party…well, it would be your last one, you’re never going back!

Still, it’s not that easy to let go. Years of following him around with puppy eyes and spreading your legs open for him like it’s the most natural thing to do isn’t just going to disappear in a day.

It’s for closure, you lie to yourself. That’s all it is – you just need closure. So for one last time, you’ll fuck around with Megumi, then you’d leave him. For good this time.

And yet – your mind still races back to him. His throaty, boyish laughter and the stupid way his eyes crinkle into half moons, his large hands slapping his knees when you tell him a really silly joke. Okay, he didn’t really laugh that much because he’s already passed out in the times you crack jokes after sex, but the few times he did, though? It’s magical, beautiful, phenomenal.

He’s so awful yet so irresistibly charming it’s a huge tug of war between your rational mind and foolish heart.

You couldn’t focus anymore in the library. If you wanted to pass your exams, you need to be somewhere that won’t remind you of him, in a place where a stronger aroma would conceal his lingering scent. The best option was to hang around in a local café closer to your apartment than on campus, and you’ve completely ditched your usual get up to just opting for lookinglike a complete shut in – bags under eyes, heart torn over a stupid boy, the usual Iced Vanilla Latte with the condensation sticking to the wooden table and soft lofi music playing in the background – it’s just the perfect atmosphere for you to wallow in self-pity.

And wallow in self-pity you did, your cheeks squished against the pale furniture while you sighed for what seems like the hundredth time that day. At the back of your head, Megumi is still giving you one of those slow, long kisses reserved for only when he’s half-sleepy, your heart doing insane back flips as you reminisced whatever moments you once had.

You’re so lost in your own train of thought you fail to hear the scraping of a chair, followed by a heavy body plopping across you. “Well, this is kind of gloomy…”

At the sound of that awfully familiar, deep voice, you sit up straight in a frenzy. Sukuna smirks at your reaction as he loudly sips from his matcha latte – which you would’ve never thought he likes – and sits back at his chair, legs crossed against one another. Unlike Megumi, he doesn’t seem to pose any other malicious intent, so you bury your head in your arms, wishing for the ground to just open up and eat you already.

“I’m sleep deprived and haven’t eaten anything except Red Bull and coffee,” you try to explain, “I look horrible.”

“Don’t say that. You’re gorgeous all the time.”

From under your arms, you scowl at nowhere in particular, ignoring the heat rushing from the back of your neck. Sukuna didn’t seem to be flirting with you, and one peek at him swirling his straw inside his cup proves your theories.

However, the offhanded compliment falls so naturally from his lips it takes you a back, and not in a good way. Defensively, you cross your arms against your chest. You knock your toes against Sukuna’s knees under the knees to get his attention, the taller man peering at you under his lashes, tongue innocently swirling around his straw.

I fucking hate men! – is what you want to say, but something different comes out. “Why are you even here? Aren’t you asleep in the morning because of work?”

“It’s my day off,” he sets his cup down, placing his chin on both of his palms. Sukuna’s gaze travels from your face down to the abandoned papers before you, a scowl immediately making its way to his face. “Got too bored to cook so I came here for a light snack. As for you…ew, are you doing essays? I hated that shit in college.”

“Yeah, I hate it too,” you numbly agree, “Can barely function right now.”

Sukuna’s eyes lit up the moment you nearly fall on the table again, his palm quick to caress your cheek. If he can feel the intense heat of your skin from the sudden gesture, he makes no comment about it. Instead, Sukuna hauls you from your seat, nodding to your bag and papers before he rushes you out the door.

When Sukuna said he could make you feel better, the last thing you thought of was going to the nearby park. Now, you find yourself sitting comfortably with him, aggressively licking on the vanilla ice cream he’d gotten you from an ice cream man that passed by. It’s a great way to kill the time – or just to enjoy the day despite the rough start – because the sunlight feels warm on your skin, the trees above you shading you from extra shade.

Next to you, Sukuna is surveying his ice cream with the least interest, his brows furrowed as he notes, “Your crush is toxic. I suggest you cut ties with him and get it all over with.”

In part of making you feel better, Sukuna’s subtly given you clues you could tell him whatever’s going on in your mind. It makes you wonder if maybe you’ve been that obvious that even Sukuna could read you, but you’re thankful that he understood, because you really did want to rant about it. Your friends are just a one call away, but they’re not any better. They’ll keep claiming ‘Megumi just needs time’ because they know it’s what you want to hear to make yourself feel better. Though, every once in a while, you needed to talk to someone who could actually slap the harsh reality at your face, and who else would be more suitable than a mature adult like Sukuna?

Looking at him now, the contrast between your roommate and your crush is immense. Where Megumi is all bark and no bite, all needy and never giving, Sukuna’s silent and compliant, an extremely good listener with the patience of a monk.

“It’s not that easy.”

“Yeah it is. Just block his number and avoid him. He’ll get the answer soon enough.”

“You don’t understand,” you groan in defeat. Sukuna faces you with worry written all over his face, seemingly tender in comparison to the tattoos marking his skin. Sometimes, it’s so easy to forget he’s actually a lot more decent than Fushiguro fucking Megumi, but you end up slipping anyway, turning to the sky just as tears prick at your eyes. “I…I love him, okay? I’ve always been in love with him even though I know I’m just someone who warms his bed. I know that much and yet…I can’t seem to let him go.”

Sukuna is silent for a full minute. You thought he’ll offer you some adult wisdom only people like him would now, but Sukuna simply snorts, happily licking at his ice cream as if you didn’t just break down in front of him. “Shit’s tough then.”

“You’re great at comforting, you know that?”

“Oh, I wasn’t comforting you,” he smiles and pats your knee, “Come on, let’s go home. I know just how to take your mind off things.”

With the way he’s caressing your thigh and his voice turned an octave lower, you chastise yourself for feeling aroused when you wanted to cry just seconds ago. But his fingers are inching closer and closer to your inner thigh, and he’s warm and strong – so fucking nice too that perhaps fucking him wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

But like always, Sukuna never fails to surprise you.

You expected he’d take you right to his room the moment you’ve crossed the door, but Sukuna dashes for the TV before carrying a huge blanket and heaps of pillow. You watch there, stunned. He makes quick work of fluffing the pillows before grabbing your wrist and pulling you above him the same way Megumi did a while ago.

The only difference? Your heart doesn’t skip a beat. You’re not intoxicated by his scent. You’re not trying to squirm away from him nor do you feel like a silly little schoolgirl who’s fallen in love at first sight.

Where Megumi is deceivingly charming, Sukuna is more like a strong pillar to lean on, which you do exactly. Your head rests on his shoulder, both of your legs tangled under the blankets he’s covered you with. He’s blinking as Tangled plays on the TV, the faint sensation of his fingers playing with yours comforting and way too comfortable. It should feel weird to hang out with a guy like this without him wanting to shove his dick deep inside you minutes later (your movie marathons with Megumi never really finish as previously planned) but with Sukuna?

It feels natural. It feels great. It feels like home.

You’re gaping at him long before you realize it, one of your hands absentmindedly playing with the strings of his hoodie. Sukuna hums along to I Have A Dream with a small smile on his face, one that forms into a playful glare as he catches you staring at him. “Don’t look at me like that. Disney is a classic.”

You fight back a smile. “Wasn’t complaining,” burying yourself deeper into his warm embrace, you’re lulled into an early slumber with Sukuna’s humming combined with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

His plan worked efficiently – for a moment, you forget your heart was aching to begin with.

After screaming internally for a good hour and a half, you arrive at the party anyway. The stench of weed, alcohol, and sex hanging thickly in the air is more than familiar to you by now. You ignore the catcalls you receive as you make your way to Megumi and fuck, he just had to look even sexier tonight.

He’s ditched his e-boy getup with a plain white shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, a Converse, and that black leather jacket he always refused to wear. Megumi really woke up and chose violence today, the minimalistic silver chain around his neck only adding to his appeal. You should’ve run away then – he literally screams trouble – but you’ve never been one to shy from that. Truth be told, you’re only pulled in harder, swaying your hips side to side as you sashay to where he’s laughing along with his friends.

Clearing your throat to get his attention, Megumi finally lays his eyes on you.

You’re glad you took the extra time to dress in your best outfit today – a lace orange mini dress that accentuates your cleavage just enough for a tease, paired with black combat boots and a white purse slung from your shoulder. Pride pumps through your veins when Megumi steps away from his friends, his hands encircling around your waist almost possessively. He smirks through your hair, those addicting lips trailing lower and lower down to your neck until, “You smell like another man.”

Now that you weren’t expecting. He doesn’t seem to be mad, perhaps a little jealous judging by how he’s grinding his crotch to your abdomen and tugs you closer, but this is Megumi in the question. He never gets jealous, so you flatten your palms onto his chest, eyes daring and red lips upturned into a smirk as you ask, “Why do you care?”

Megumi raises a brow – which really shouldn’t have been such a sexy thing – at your spunk. Normally, you’re too sweet and submissive to him, never would’ve even dared to dress something as revealing like this, but maybe you’re tired of being sweet.

Maybe this time, you wanted to match Megumi’s spice, fight fire with fire.

Megumi chuckles above your lips and swipes a thumb over your lower lip, humming when the coating doesn’t stain his fingers. He’s mentioned before he hates washing the lipstick off his dick, and the fact you remember that has him groaning at your ear. Unsurprisingly, Megumi’s already hard. He nibbles at the shell of your ear, possessive hands brushing over your collarbone as a silent promise of what he’ll be doing to you tonight.

“Like I said, this pussy is mine.”

You should say no. It’s evident in the darkness of his eyes he’s daring you to say no, but it’s too much. The cramped space that diminishes space until it becomes a myth, his hands rubbing circles at your hip, the glint of his new lip ring under the disco lights and anything, everything about Fushiguro Megumi just makes you feel so weak you can’t say no.

Satisfied with your silence, Megumi sweeps you upstairs. There’s already a round of Truth or Dare going on with a bunch of drunk and half-high college students, the lights red and the aroma of weed thick in the air.

It bothers you so you stick close to Megumi, nose stuck at the collar of his leather jacket. He’s not satisfied with just you sitting next to him; Megumi is territorial. He makes sure you’re comfy and using his lap like a throne, clasping both your hands in your lap while he boredly stares at his friends. Okkotsu Yuta, the host who used to be super shy in his freshman year but became one of the most sought after guys in his junior year, sits across from you in the circle. He’s already giggling in his drunken state while Nobara Kugisaki makes the mistake of choosing dare, flinging her bra straight at a very enthusiastic Yuuji.

They spin the bottle and it lands straight at you. Megumi hums in anticipation at the crook of your neck, his little sounds mixed with his heated touches sending fire straight down your core. It’s inebriating to have him this close, but you need to keep a straight head if you want to survive.

Fighting the arousal pooling at your stomach, you offer a flat smile. “Truth.” As expected, the crowd isn’t pleased. They holler, “Booooo,” with their hands cupped around their mouths, the others snickering at you, though you’re quite satisfied with the safety of your choice. You could be crazy with Megumi, but being crazy around others isn’t something you’re comfortable with.

Thankfully, Yuta shushes the crowd dramatically with a threat he’ll kick them out with his infamous Katana that’s been passed down by an ancestor. Once everyone’s calmed down, Yuta smirks at you, eyes wiggling as he asks, “Who’s the best dick you ever had?”

You don’t think twice about it. Someone else’s face pops up for a split second, but it’s so natural, so obvious that you would say – “Megumi.”

“Speak louder, baby, they won’t hear.”

“It’s you,” you suddenly grow shy at the attention, whatnot with Megumi shamelessly trailing hot kisses down your neck now for everyone to see. He’s shameless as he rocks you back and forth on his thigh, all the while keeping eye contact with the other guys whose eyes are zeroed in on the swell of your breasts that are an inch away from popping out from your dress. It’s the best time to submit, the perfect time to give him what he wants, and his expert hands prompt his name out of you with a single suck at your neck.

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

“Damn, Megumi, you’ve trained your bitch well.”

“’Course I did. My dick does all the disciplining,” Megumi cups your jaw to tilt your face at him, cooing at you as you flush embarrassed from everyone’s snickering. “Aw, don’t pout baby, it’s all just harmless jokes. You know I treat you like a goddess when we’re alone.”

“Yo, man, get a fucking room!”

Megumi ignores Yuuji’s comments and makes an offhanded comment the latter is just jealous because he hasn’t had his dick wet in days, ensuing a close dog fight between the guys. Maki has to step in and kick the strawberry haired boy back to his seat, scolding her cousin to back down. Meanwhile, you cling to Megumi like a scaredy-cat, head empty with nothing but the way he’s never hold you this close and proudly before.

Just one last time.

“Megs, your turn.”

“Dare.”

Yuuji slaps his palm over Yuta who usually gives the dares. The older guy rolls his eyes but lets it slide, knowing that Yuuji could also let loose with his dares. Megumi isn’t afraid though, he stays docile around you, leaving little nibbles at your ear and even squeezing your boobs at one point. You know he’ll never back down from Yuuji’s dares, even as his eyes darken with mischief. Now, Yuuji is a nice guy, but something doesn’t quite feel right with the way he’s staring Megumi down.

“I dare you to kiss the hottest girl in the room.”

Megumi freezes.

Time must’ve stopped because everyone is chanting, “KISS, KISS, KISS!” but he makes no move. You stay there, staring up at him wide eyed with your arms looped around his neck. Your heart is beating a mile a minute in your chest the moment Megumi’s eyes gaze down to your lips, smirking as he leans closer, leans down lower, and you close your eyes, waiting for the salacious kiss that would sear at the back of your mind. But it never comes and a gust of wind flies by through you, and before you know it, Megumi’s leaned over your shoulder, his hand cupping the cheek of this girl named Alicia who you’ve heard about from your friends before that she’s Megumi’s current pick.

Alicia was never supposed to kiss him back. Your friends told you, they promised you she wasn’t the type of person to fall for the likes of Megumi, and yet she’s smiling through the kiss. You’re still in Megumi’s lap but your vision is of the audience, their jaws dropped and Yuuji slapping Yuta’s thighs. “Oh, shit! That’s gotta hurt!”

You don’t think twice.

You push yourself off Megumi and run out the room, the sounds of their chaotic laughter mocking you to no end. You know – you fucking know – you’d never quite belong in Megumi’s circle. Everyone knows you’re just another one of his bed warmers, and they also know how much you’re hopelessly in love with him, begging, hoping that one day he might return your affections.

It makes perfect sense with each step you take further from the room. This has to be staged, intentional, because there’s no way Yuuji would’ve said that if he didn’t already have an idea maybe Alicia reciprocated Megumi’s feelings.

But what about your feelings?

Does no one really care? Were you really reduced to just another body count?

Your chest squeezed uncomfortably as you pushed past the crowd, ignoring everyone’s protests from how rough you were. You don’t stop until you’ve locked yourself inside a restroom, tears freely falling down your face. With trembling hands, you fall back to the floor, dialing the only person you could trust right now.

He picks up not three rings later, voice still gruff and laced with sleep. “Hello?”

“S-Sukuna,” you whimper, pathetically wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. “I’m – can you please pick me up?”

From the other line, you can hear Sukuna shuffling for something in the background. Keys dangle and he locks the door, the sounds of his rushed footsteps so relieving to your senses. “Where are you? What’s wrong? Did someone force themselves on you?”

“No, I just…I want to go home.”

“Text me the address. I’ll be there soon.”

You text him the address and end the call. From the outside, the bass is thumping so hard it makes your head pound. You’re already feeling dizzy from crying so much, hands clutched around your chest because it hurts so much.

Stupid Megumi, fucking stupid Megumi – but aren’t you the stupider one? You’re the one who chose to keep being with him despite the warning signs. You’ve heard what everyone said about him, his reputation as a fuckboy isn’t exactly a secret, but you hoped, you sincerely hoped you could at least be good enough. But you’re not not good enough – Megumi just simply doesn’t deserve you. You deserve better and he needs to go to hell, so then why does it hurt so much the more you picture how he’s humiliated you like that?

Your dress is beyond soaked from how much you’ve cried. At this point, you just feel achingly numb. The pounding in your head is matched by the soft knocks rapping against the door, and thinking it’s Megumi or one of his lackeys, you wrap your arms around your knees.

“GO AWAY!”

“Sweetheart, it’s me. Open up, let’s get you home,” It’s Sukuna. Scrambling for the door, you push it open and jump into his arms without a second thought. Sukuna effortlestly catches you, and the dam you thought had dried up in you breaks again. He stiffens as you cry on his shoulder, fists balled around his shirt in a vice-like grip. “Who the fuck made you cry? Is it him again?” he growls, “I seriously want to knock the living daylights out of him.”

“Don’t start a ruckus, Sukuna.”

“I won’t, I promise,” he visibly softens at your state. Sukuna rubs your back soothingly and lets you cry like that, shielding your vulnerable state with his arm. He moves you to hide your face in his chest and kisses the crown of your head, so gentle and unbelievably tender. “I don’t pick on someone weaker than me. That’s bullying.”

You don’t utter another word as he leads you out of the house. He mutters under his breath on how kids are so wild these days and he really can’t imagine he was once like that. Sukuna’s car is parked on the curb, and you rush for it, eager to go home until he stops you. He wraps his jacket around your shoulders to offer you some modesty and you offer him a weak smile, allowing him to embrace you from the sides to guide you.

“Hey!” Megumi calls out, “Hey, what are you doing with her? Let her go,” his footsteps echo behind you just as you clench your eyes shit, “I said let her go!”

“Don’t punch the kid, don’t punch the kid, don’t punch the kid,” Sukuna mutters to himself like a mantra.

“Yo, steroid guy, you deaf or what? I said let my girl go—” Megumi falls on his ass. He stares up at whoever punched him, eyes wide at Sukuna’s arm raised, but his eyes are on you. “Ow! You fucking bitch, you broke my nose!”

“Shit,” Sukuna laughs beside you as you wince at the soreness of your knuckle. “That was hot.” Somehow, you find the ability to smile. You’ve always wanted to top Megumi, but seeing him below you like this, weak and clutching his broken nose while whining about it like a little bitch, it feels a lot more satisfying.

You want to scream at him, to release all the profanities that have manifested your anger throughout the years. But Megumi crawls back with something unreadable in his eyes, the edges of his lips tinted red with a smack of lipstick, probably from Alicia.

The sight has you scoffing. Maybe you don’t have anything to worry about after all – Megumi hates lipstick stains with a passion. If he ever gets with her, they won’t last long enough.

That fact is enough for you to flip your hair over your shoulder, glaring at Megumi one last time before dragging Sukuna down by the collar. His laughter ceases the moment your lips collide, your hands teasing around his neck to brush at his undercut. Sukuna moans through the kiss, the way he’s explicitly grabbing the flesh of your ass a sign he’s aware what kind of game you’re playing. You make a mental note to apologize for this later, but for now, you’ll shamelessly savor his tongue and the minty aftertaste, grabbing at his large frame that picks you up with no ease.

You leave Megumi gaping at the lawn after that, your finger middle raised right before Sukuna speeds off.

Fuck, that has never felt so good. This feeling…it bursts through you. There’s this certain satisfaction in finally having the power at your fingertips this time around, and you you’re your wicked smile through your hair, too absorbed in your own feelings that you don’t register Sukuna’s worried tone at first.

“So…do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” He doesn’t pry afterwards, just shoots you a curious look. Just moments ago, you were crying and feeling like you’re on the verge of breaking down, but this adrenaline rushing through absolutely cannot fuck around anymore. The image of Megumi realizing he’s lost you is so exhilarating, and you twist your torso to face your roommate, grinning at his handsome features. He looks so delicious like this, black button up shirt left open at the top, his veiny, muscular arms driving one hand on the steering wheel and the other gently caressing your thigh. You suck in a deep breath, licking your lips as you purr, “Hey, Sukuna.”

“Yes?”

“Pull over.”

“Wait, why? We’re so close at home.”

“Pull over, I’m done,” you insist with a glare, although the animosity isn’t directed at him. Sukuna keeps his eyes on the road before he spares you a glance, smirking at how you’re already unclasping your bra from your seat.

“Oh, I see how it is. You’re going to use me as a stress reliever.”

At his words, your arms still behind you. You glance up at him with wide, worried eyes that immediately reach out for his hands in assurance. “N-No, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Usually, sex is a lot crazier when the other is angry. Use me as you will – I don’t really care,” he licks his lips and suddenly slams on the brakes under an empty parking lot, already flipping something in the engine. You’re taken aback as Sukuna discards his shirt in a second, his large arms carrying your frame to the backseat with him. Sukuna spreads your legs as he helps you get rid of your dress but it’s too tight that you just give up, leaving the material bunched under your boobs instead. Sukuna’s eyes darken at the lack of material under your dress, his fierce gaze shooting up to yours as he massages your inner thighs, his breath labored.

“What position do you want?”

“Fu-fuck, I don’t know, just fuck me,” you whine, spreading your legs farther to make space for him. He’s a tall guy with long limbs that he shrinks even with his fancy car, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. Sukuna seems a lot more focused in fucking you in that moment because he’s unhooking his belt, diving down for one more kiss that is a lot heated and rushed than the previous one for show.

“I want to get rid of his face from my mind, I fucking hate him so much,” you can’t help but bite down on Sukuna’s lip, hard enough that it draws blood. Sukuna groans into your mouth, the sound so utterly deep and sexy you drip down on his seats even more.

“You’ll still go back to him after this?”

“No…it would be stupid if I did,” you roll your eyes.

“Good girl,” Sukuna praises as his lips leave a wet trail from your jaw down to the valley of your breasts. His smile is quickly replaced with a sinister grin, one of his hands cupping your breasts at the same time his teeth dart out to playfully nip at your breasts. He really shouldn’t look so enticing under you like this, and you’re so caught by his devilishness you fail to realize he’s already rummaging through your purse. “But I think lover boy still doesn’t get the message. We’re gonna have to punch it through his dumb skull.”

He hands you your phone, Megumi’s contact right before you.

“Sukuna, what’re you doing?”

“Call him,” Sukuna moves up to fish a condom out of his wallet and slides it to his already throbbing cock, chuckling at the way your eyes widen at his girth as if you hadn’t taken him before. “Call him and let him hear how I fuck you better, sweetheart. Boys like him won’t get the message unless you tell them directly.”

His hands clutch the backseat until his knuckles turn white, aligning himself with your entrance. You’re wet enough that he slides in easily and you moan loudly at the intrusion, pretty little gasps a sign of your pleasure. Helplessly, you grip at his bicep while your legs shake from how tense you are, the tantalizing movement of his hips pulling breathless moans from you. “And what better way than to take what’s his, right? What did he call this? His pretty pussy?” Sukuna scoffs, “Fuck that, stupid little boys can’t even fuck you right, don’t you think, sweetheart?”

“Ngh, Sukuna, that f-feels good, right there!”

“Right here?” he teases with a stroke of his cock that brushes against your tight walls. Sukuna’s face contort into pleasure when your tight pussy sucks him in, falling forward just to rasp in your ear. “Call him. Then, I’ll fuck you however you want me to.”

You don’t know how you’re able to swipe on Megumi, but he picks up in the speed of light like never before. Sukuna mouths loudspeaker and you follow his commands, Megumi’s voice booming through the sex-filled air of the car. “Where the fuck did you go? The party wasn’t over yet and you’re hanging out with some beefy, tattoed guy? It’s your roommate, isn’t it?” Megumi curses at someone before continuing, the aggravation evident in his tone. “He’s such a fucking creep, I swear if he lays his hands on you again I’ll—”

“You’ll do what, kid?” Sukuna challenges, “Oh and mind you, she’s the one who asked me to fuck her. As her concerned roommate and the more mature adult, I believe it’s my duty to listen to her complaints and make her feel better, especially when she keeps whining she’s not being fucked good.”

“Sukuna!” You whine and slap his arm, but you’re smiling, the pleasure and satisfaction of slapping Megumi this harshly making you feel greater than ever.

“Are you sleeping with her?” Megumi sounds like he’s losing his shit, and you sincerely hope he does. “Gosh, Y/N, how low can you be? I thought you were my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend? Since when?” you attempt to scream, but Sukuna’s gripped your thighs and pulls your lower body closer to his cock in time to meet his thrusts. Your body slides off the seat and you’re left screaming Sukuna’s name, the latter wearing a shit-eating grin at the way you’re creaming around him. Somehow, your attention reverts back to Megumi’s whining. “You’re a fucking dick, Megumi, I honestly hope you choke on your small dick!” you shout and end the call, slapping your hand on your face as you throw your phone away. “I hated saying that.”

“Because you still like him or…?”

“No, because he was actually a good fuck and his dick is huge,” you say through pants. Sukuna must’ve hated how you’re talking about Megumi’s dick when he’s literally rearranging your insides, and Sukuna grabs your leg, manhandling you into the position he likes. You’re immediately on your knees with your back flat to his chest, your arms locked between your bodies as Sukuna takes you from behind. Your head falls back to his shoulders where Sukuna leaves messy open-mouthed kisses to your sweaty skin. “I fucking hate him. He’s such an asshole.”

“Hmm, well don’t spend too much energy thinking about him anymore,” Sukuna snarls at your skin, releasing your hands just to rub at your swollen clit. “Just let loose and let me take care of you. I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t even remember meeting him.”

The honest side of you wants to moan, the familiar tightening of your abdomen appearing already. He’s hitting all your sensitive spots that you can barely think, only feel, but you also feel so powerful and enraged that you cup Sukuna’s cheek, narrowing your eyes at him. You hit his thrusts by pushing back against his cock that causes him to slide in deeper, the large man groaning deep within his chest.

“You sure about that?”

“Oh, hundred percent confident, baby.”

“Let’s see what you got then,” you teased him. Pretending you’re not seconds away from coming is an even bigger challenge than leaving Megumi, but for the sake of riling up Sukuna, you would do it.

“You’re challenging me?”

“If I don’t cum at least twice, then that’s going to be a damn shame.”

“Twice? That’s not even the minimum,” he shakes his head tauntingly at you, increasing his pace until the sounds of his balls smacking your ass and both your groans are filling the dead silent night. It’s so lewd and dirty that your tongue lols out from the pleasure, eyes shut tight because you’re close, so fucking close! “You’re going to lose your fucking mind,” Sukuna said as a final warning.

You didn’t think too much of it until he pulls out of you seconds before you came. The crestfallen look written all over your face makes him laugh, but Sukuna only turns your body and goes down on his knees, hitching your legs over his shoulders. Your chest falls up and down as he dives down to your sopping, abused cunt, hands threading through his hair before he rudely flicks it away. “No. Hands to yourself. You’re not allowed to touch me,” he hissed, but his roughness is softened only by a little bit when you whimper so sweetly for him. “Don’t pout, sweetheart, you’ll get your chance when we get home. For now, since you’d so rudely woke me up and left me without inviting me for dinner, I’m starving.”

Sukuna dips between your thighs, tongue poking out to take the first taste of your juices. Your reaction is instantaneous and gratifying; head thrown back, nails dug into the seats, legs quivering and falling open wider to welcome the warm, wet muscle that licks flat from your entrance up to your clit.

“Fuuckk, Sukuna, slow down, ngh—”

“He ever ate you out this way?”

“No, I don’t know, I don’t know.”

“Can you take it, sweetheart? Should I stop?” You know he’s teasing you, the sniggers muffled from your pussy lips are still heard but you can’t fight back, not when your legs turn to jelly at his ministrations.

“Keep going, fuck, please, I will slap you if you don’t make me cum tonight,” you threaten, and Sukuna smartly responds by sucking your clit into his mouth. He rolls it between his teeth, careful enough not to hurt you while plunging two fingers deep inside you, curling it into a come-hither motion that stretches you pleasurably. “Too, oh, shit!”

“You can’t even talk properly,” he chuckles, and the vibrations that come afterwards shatter your entire world. “And this is just my tongue. Feels too good?”

“Yes, yes, too good!” you cry out, “Sukuna, em coming!”

Your orgasm has no build-up whatsoever. You lay there panting with a silent scream as your nails scratch against his seats, toes curled as it comes down into you in one, hard slap. Sukuna hums as he licks up the arousal trailing down your pussy to not make even more of a mess. “Already? I haven’t even started yet,” he sighs sarcastically, “Don’t think I’m done with you. I did say you’d lose your mind, right?”

Sukuna has now joined you on the seats, flipping you to the side where he hooks one leg under his arm, your other leg extended to your side that remains flushed at the seats, his thighs squishing yours. It’s utterly challenging to move in this position and you’re completely at his mercy, the sight of his tall, dominating figure above you forcing you back into a submissive space. He doesn’t give you much time to recover before his cock is pushing past your pussy once more, bottoming out in one, swift thrust.

“’Kuna, too sensitive, mhhm—”

“You’ll take it,” he breathes out while peppering kisses at your ankle, “Come on, you’re a good girl, yeah? Give me one more.”

“Su-kuna, it’s too much!”

“Just one more.” Sukuna elicits moans from you the harder he thrusts, leaning forward until you’re crying out from the stretch of all the muscles in your body. He’s being nice today by letting you cum more than twice in the exchange of holding back his, because he’s absolutely throbbing inside you. He picks up a rougher pace from where he left off, saying your name through gritted teeth as you tighten around him. You’re squealing and whimpering from behind your fists, overly sensitive still from your previous orgasm.

His hips roll in such a mind-numbing manner before Sukuna rams into you utterly deep, your bodies flushed so close you can feel the heat pulsing from his skin. Sukuna tenses above you before he brings you to your orgasm, with him following not long afterwards.

Sukuna pulls out with a groan and ties his condom in a knot, discarding it above his clothes. Upon hearing your soft sighs, he immediately rushes your side and pats your cheek to wake you up. “Hey, look at me,” he commands, though his voice is gentle and soft. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out through fluttering lashes, “Yeah, I’m just tired,” extending your arms to him, you wrap your legs around his waist to bring him close. “Come here. Want cuddles.”

Sukuna gives in to your request for a few minutes and stays wrapped up with you. It’s perfect to be in this state, to be held so close and not just touched, the intimacy of it all bringing about unfamiliar warmth that only ever makes itself present when he’s here. “As much as I want to stay like this, we’re sweaty and sticky,” Sukuna murmurs through your hair, his hands roaming all over your skin. There’s no other sexual meaning behind it even as his rough palms graze past your mound. His touches are more like him exploring your body out of curiosity, out of the desire to just have you this close. You’re unsure what to feel about it and your mind is uncannily clear after an orgasm, but Sukuna’s already sitting up with you above him before you could ponder about it any longer. “Let me take you home first, then we’ll cuddle. What do you think?”

“Oh fuck,” you cut him off upon seeing the flashing of your screen. “It’s Megumi. Fifteen missed calls.”

“Lover boy is crazy,” Sukuna snickered behind you.

“Good thing I’m crazier,” you shut your phone off and throw it to the passenger’s seat, beaming up at Sukuna and giving him the puppy eyes from behind your shoulder. “Can we get milkshakes on the way?”

“I think you got enough milk.”

“Sukuna!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he raises his hands in surrender. You pout until you feel something hard and wet poking your bottoms, and Sukuna smirks, gesturing to his erection that you haven’t noticed. “You do know that I’m still hard, right? I’ll fuck you again when we get home.”

“You could’ve just let me suck you off.”

“Nah,” he refuses, “I want to feel you come around me,” Sukuna cockily winks at you, and your mouth falls open, gasping in disbelief at how vulgar he could be. He steals a quick kiss then as he tugs his pants up, the sight of him rolling his sleeves back up to his elbows thoroughly…compelling that you’re left salivating at the ripples of his muscles. “I’ll just wait ‘til we get home. Right now, I need to treat someone like a princess and get her some food.”

“You should stop saying that,” you blurt out defensively, “Sweet lies won’t get you anywhere.”

“I wasn’t lying about anything. I meant every word I said.”

The tension thickens in an instant. Sukuna looks at you warily – or perhaps worriedly? – before he situates himself back in the driver’s seat, starting the car right after you’ve fixed your appearance. Considering it’s already late, he’s struggling to find any restaurant or diners open to appease your cravings, though he doesn’t complain about it.

You fiddle with your hands on your lap, unable to find a proper explanation to his behavior. “Sukuna…” you start off nervously, refusing to look him in the eye. “Do you uhm…do you like me?”

“What kind of question is that, sweetheart?”

“I meant…maybe you just like me for my body, you know?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, sweetheart,” he tilts his head towards you, “I’m too old for drama and playing with people’s feelings. Like I said, the cards are all in your hands now. If you want us to just have casual sex, I don’t mind, but if you also want to be, uhm…” Sukuna awkwardly rubs at the back of his head with a clear of his throat, the tables turned because now he’s the one who can’t meet your gaze. “…something more, then I won’t refuse that either. I’m up to whatever you want to do.”

“And if I said that…maybe I’m considering getting to know you better?”

“Then maybe I would happily say yes.”

You smile at how easily he lightens up the mood, feeling a smile already playing on your lips as you giggle. “Just a maybe?”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” he groans, averting his eyes from the road (it’s empty anyway) to get a quick peck. You whack his arm and his laugh only grows louder; he knows you’re not really angry, because he kisses really good and you like it a lot more than you’ll admit.

“I’ll be a hundred times of a better boyfriend than what you’d expect.”

“You’re really confident, huh?”

“Oh, I’m confident I can treat you well,” he nods proudly, head tipping back to the backseat. “I did just let you ruin my leather exterior and let you walk away while I have a raging boner. Do you have any idea how much self restraint a man has to have to let that happen?”

“Probably an immaculate one. Megumi would never let me go unless he’s came.”

“Yeah, well, fuck that guy,” Sukuna doesn’t even bother to try and hide his hatred for your former crush, and you’re smiling like a lovesick fool on the seat. “You’re with me now. So, since I want to spoil you, how many milkshakes do you want?”

Back then, you were always too addicted to lies that seemed so sweet that you couldn’t be able to stop. But now that you’ve met Sukuna, perhaps the blissful truth is a lot sweeter, and it’s a much healthier addiction you’ll take any day.

taglist: @thesimpsclub @uwubby-1 @expectoscamander @your-consulting-fangirl @dora-the-grownup @cosmotoic @charlie-xo @kittaliapenn @sukunas-cult-leader @flowersgirl02 @cloudsinthecosmos @90s-belladonna @averysheart-raleighsdick @generousstudentpsychic-bat @kat-su-ki @issamomma @sklycan @ggsmashgg @dora-the-grownup @ninefuckingoneone @ambiguous-something

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ulalumewitch · 3 years

Text

I’ve had this Elucien fic rolling around my brain for a while and decided to put it out there. No warnings with this one. Just angst and bits of hope for possible futures (I swear I write things other than angst all the time - haha).

Happy Sunday everyone!

Word count: 2,807

Themes: Angst/Hope

Choices

Lucien couldn’t believe it. He could not believe that another Winter Solstice ended in utter ruins because of his mate. Because of his godsdamned mate and he’d had enough. He would end it, and end it now.

“Elain!” He shouted at her retreating figure.

But she pulled the ruby red cloak tighter around her shoulders and quickened her steps. Fresh snow remained mostly untouched on small front lawns and sidewalks of Velaris as he ran from the front door of the Riverside Estate after Elain. Most families and friends likely hunkered down in their homes enjoying fires and brandies and gifts and laughter with no cause to go out walking as the last hours of Solstice crept by entering the darkest hours of night before the dawn.

The longest night of the year. The longest three years of his life. Three years of being both rejected and not rejected by his mate. And he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Would you stop,” he growled as they reached the gate, “You owe me one conversation.”

Elain stopped. Her spine snapped straight. She turned and glared at him, her eyes molten with pure hatred.

Lucien had chosen his words carefully. Tempers he could handle, he’d had enough practice over the centuries with a hot headed High Lord. He could handle master manipulators and sweet talkers. He could handle battle worn generals and courtiers of the most delicate constitution. He could handle gossipers and those genuinely interested in friendship.

But what he could not handle was nothing. He could not handle the looks that went right through him. The unanswered questions. The blank stares. The Solstice presents delicately placed to the side and left alone as if they didn’t exist at all.

“I owe you nothing. Leave me alone.”

“I won’t. You are my mate -“

“I don’t want to be your mate!”

“Then reject me and reject he bond!” Lucien yelled, his voice echoing through the silent night.

The stars glittered in the black sky, now completely clear after the fast moving snow clouds from earlier in the evening had dissipated. It brought just enough snow to coat the city white before moving on. As if the Mother heard every prayer from the younglings of Night Court for a white Solstice, and then granted their wish.

Elain’s nostrils flared and for a moment, the briefest moment, her eyes flashed an emotion he couldn’t quite place but had seen before. And it hit him. She’d possessed the same look of bewilderment when she’d still been sopping wet from the Cauldron’s waters, Nesta clawing at her sobbing. The look of knowing but not knowing.

“Reject it,” he rasped, the fight and fire receding slightly, “Reject it so that I can move on. You think I enjoy this? You think that any of this has made me feel good over the last three years?”

“I didn’t choose you. I didn’t choose any of this. I didn’t want any of this,” she cried.

Lucien took a breath. It was rare he lost control like this. He’d spent centuries honing his reactions and temperament to be the Fox and mold his features and behaviors into whatever he’d needed in order to ferret out information, or to keep his own secrets safe. But he couldn’t do that around her, his mate.

“I didn’t choose you either,” Lucien said.

She flinched, and looked away down the street. She crossed her arms and shivered. Her cheeks flushed a pink as if kissed by two rose petals and once again her beauty struck him like a slap across the face.

“I know you were in love with another male -“

“Stop it -“

“I know you hate being Fae. I know what you did to try and turn yourself human again -“

“I said stop it,” Elain growled through clenched teeth, “Stop it. Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can’t take it anymore,” Lucien stated, willing himself to be calm, to stop shouting.

He needed this conversation. They both did.

“You wouldn’t know this because you refuse to ever speak to me but I was in love once too,” Lucien said and took a step closer to her, “I was in love with a female and planned to marry her. And my - And the High Lord of Autumn had her killed in front of me and I couldn’t save her.”

Elain’s lips parted in a silent gasp. Her brow furrowed. For a moment he thought she might ask a question, but instead she closed her lips and looked down at he ground.

“I didn’t choose to live without her. I didn’t choose to run away to another Court and make a home there. I didn’t choose a life of intelligence work, books, sparring, warring, and everything in between. But we don’t always get a choice, Elain. What we can choose is what we do with the things that happen to us.”

Lucien paused but she remained silent. Because of course she would stay silent. Fine. Maybe it would be easier this way.

“I chose to deepen my friendship with Tamlin and to truly be a part of his Court and I made the best of it. I chose to continue my education of Courts and history and everything in between so that I could help keep the peace as much as possible. I chose to become trained as a warrior so that I could be as strong and prepared as possible for any situation. I chose those things to make the best of my life. I chose not to wallow in the what-could-have-beens for centuries because no one can survive that way.”

Lucien took another step towards her so that they were only a few inches apart. He could see Elain’s breathing had increased slightly. Her arms tightened across her chest. But she did not move away.

“I did not choose to be your mate, no one gets that choice,” Lucien whispered, “But we can choose, together, whether we want to reject this mating bond to try to lessen its effects as much as possible. It will never go away completely, but if we officially reject it then we can at least bury it and move on separately and away from each other.”

“Is that what you want?” Elain whispered, and she glanced up at him, her eyes somehow still sparkling as if the sun reflected in them.

Lucien’s heart ached. It was the first question she’d asked him since asking if he could hear her beat those years ago. And she’d been so broken then, he could barely breathe around the memory of seeing her in such a state. So he told her the truth.

“What I want is for you to talk with me and be honest with me,” he began carefully, “I want to know why the Cauldron and Mother saw fit to pair us together. Do you know that mates are equally matched and often so is their magic, their power?”

Elain glanced away and nodded. She shifted on her feet slightly.

“I’ve done some research on it.”

Lucien leaned closer to her and clasped his hands behind his back. He didn’t need her or those obnoxious bats, whom he knew lurked in the shadows, to think he would touch her. Overbearing babysitters the lot of them, even if their hearts were in the right place.

“No one knows what I’m about to tell you Elain. You could use the information against me and spread it to the Inner Circle, or anyone who might wish me harm, or you could tuck it away for private reflection. But I have much more magic and power than anyone thinks. I only let a very little bit show in the company of others. And since we are mates, I have a theory that you are the same. You only show a small bit of what you are actually capable of and have hidden the rest away. Your sisters are powerful, Elain, and I find it very hard to believe that you would be different. I also think that one of the reasons you are so unhappy is because it scares you. I could help you discover what you’re capable of - learn about it, grow with it, strengthen it, control it, and use it. You were not given a choice to become Fae and I am sorry that neither Tamlin nor I realized what was happening until it was too late. You have no idea how sorry I am. And I am sorry that you lost the love of your life in the process. I’m sorry.”

Elain stared at him. Stared and stared.

Lucien could scarcely breathe. His heart lurched forward in his chest, begging him to tug on the bond, to bring her nearer. To touch her. Kiss her. Love her.

But he forced the instinct down. Even though every beat of his heart echoed, my mate, he shut all of it down.

“There are options other than rejection,” he began slowly, “If you would like, Elain, we could discuss it, but it can’t only be me talking. And if I’m being honest, it kills me that I don’t know you. Feyre used to talk about you all the time at Spring Court when she lived there. And over the past three years I’ve gotten bits from her and Nesta, on the rare occasion I speak with her. But those are their perspectives. I would like to know first hand, about you.”

Elain looked away and cleared her throat, “What is it you want to know?”

Hope sparked in Lucien’s chest. He tightened his hands behind his back. Carefully. He had to tread so, so carefully.

“Well, for starters, I’ve always wondered if there is anything other than gardening you enjoy? What do you like? What are your passions? Your dreams? What makes you happy? Upset? Do you have any religious or spiritual beliefs? Do you enjoy sports? Do you have a favorite season? Hobbies? Preferred genre of music? Books? I want to know about you, Elain, and not from anyone else. I want to experience you. I want to know why the godsdamned universe decided why you and I should be together.”

Elain let out a breath that could have been a laugh or a huff of annoyance. He wasn’t sure which, and it killed him that he didn’t know his mate well enough to know which it was.

“I hate winter,” she whispered and looked up at the sky, “I hate the cold. I never want to be cold again. I’ve had enough of it after living in that godforsaken hovel all those years. Spring has always been my favorite season. Is … how is it there?”

Lucien frowned slightly, “Improving at a glacial pace.”

“I remember the night Azriel and Feyre came to rescue me at Hybern’s camp,” she whispered, her arms tightening around her, “And I remember Azriel holding on to me as I held on to that poor girl and watching in horror as those beast things closed in on my sister. I thought she was dead. And then Tamlin came out of no where and saved her. Saved us. I think of that quite a bit actually.”

Lucien stared at her. What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

“If he needs assistance with his gardens, I could help. I’m bored to tears in winter here and I don’t think the High Lord of Spring should have flagging gardens, do you?” Elain asked and met his eyes then.

Strength shone in them. Her chin tipped up slightly and Lucien lost his breath. A shiver ran along his spine as he realized his assumption on her untapped and hidden power had likely been correct. He did not stare into the eyes of a doe but a Wolf. Of course a godsdamned Wolf would would lurk under her skin. She was an Archeron sister after all.

“No, I don’t think so either. It might help Tam, to have his estate restored a bit,” Lucien suggested carefully, “If you ever wanted to get away from the cold of Velaris during winter, I could arrange it.”

Elain looked away again and whispered, “I’ve been so lonely. I don’t know what to do.”

Lucien frowned as pain wrapped around his heart, and realized with utter horror, it was not his pain but hers. Gods, had she been living with this?

“Elain,” Lucien murmured, “All I’m asking for is to share one meal. One conversation. I’m not suggesting we get mated or married or any of it. Hell, I’m not even asking for a date. I’m only asking for one conversation so that we can both maybe decide if rejecting the bond really is the best thing or if maybe, maybe, there might be something here worth exploring, growing, tending like one of your gardens. No expectations. Just …”

“Just time to decide what kind of choice we want to make with what the Cauldron gave us?” Elain offered quietly.

A breath he didn’t know he’d been holding rasped through his lips. His gold eye whirred. He blinked and golden light swirled around Elain hedged with blush pink and warm vermillion. She looked like a goddess inside the sun, and gods did he want to worship her. But was she worth worshiping? He desperately wanted to find out.

He blinked and his eye showed her as any one would see her once again. Lucien nodded his agreement.

Elain cleared her throat and looked down the street, “I didn’t eat. Did you?”

“Not much, those fools love their drink on holidays,” Lucien offered with a small laugh, “They’re a happy lot though aren’t they?”

Elain shrugged, “I suppose. Are you hungry?”

Warmth spread through his chest. Lucien allowed a smile to touch his lips.

“I could eat.”

“Do you think any of the restaurants are open?” Elain asked.

“You want to have this conversation now?” Lucien asked incredulously.

A smile bloomed across her face. Her rosy cheeks pinked further and he’d never wanted to kiss anyone so badly in his life before.

Elain released her arms and crooked an elbow to him. He stared at the offered arm. Was he dreaming?

“Well, Fox?” Elain asked, “Shall we?”

Lucien’s heart leapt in his chest. He closed the last few inches between them and looped his arm through hers. Suddenly, the weight of a thousand stones of grief and dejection lifted from his shoulders. His heart felt so light he could have wept.

“I know of one restaurant that will be open. It’s not the best, but it’s decent and within walking distance,” Lucien began, “And after this conversation, if you would like to have another - if we would both like to have another - then I can take you to my favorite restaurant. It is in the middle of the largest botanical gardens in all of Prythian.”

Elain raised an eyebrow, “In the middle of winter?”

Lucien grinned at her and winked, “It’s in Summer Court.”

She nodded, “I would like that, if,” and softly cleared her throat, “If we both decide we would like another conversation after tonight that is.”

Lucien nodded, “Very well, Lady Light. Are you cold?”

A small smile. An even smaller snicker.

“A little.”

“Give me your hand,” Lucien offered his free hand to her, palm up.

Elain stared at his open palm. Lucien felt a small lick of pride at how still she became, like a true Immortal creature, she’d mastered the art of preternatural stillness.

Then, she lightly rested her hand against his. Lucien maintained eye contact with her as he closed his fingers around her hand and touched the spark of fire within him. Elain gasped and her eyes widened.

“How did you do that?” She murmured, and a small laugh escaped her, “I’m positively toasty.”

Lucien’s heart fluttered but kept his tone airy, almost bored, “A small bit of magic for me. It’s a gift not everyone possesses. Not many know I can do it. Shall we eat? I’m rather hungry myself.”

Elain nodded, “I would like that, thank you.”

Lucien nodded and let go of her hand but tightened his arm still hooked around hers slightly. He didn’t bother to hide the widening of his smile as she gently squeezed back.

He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Mother as they walked arm in arm down the street, their tracks the only pair as they made their way away from the High Lord and Lady’s Riverside estate and into Velaris.

Lucien didn’t know what choice she would make in the end. He didn’t know what choice he would make in the end. But at least, for now, there was a sun dawning to end the longest night of the year. And he’d never been happier to see its light.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

#elucien #acotar fanfiction #elain archeron #lucien #angst #possibility

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jiminrings · 3 years

Note

hi hannah !! can i request a drabble where jungkook visits florist!y/n and he went “hi i’m here to get a flower for my girlfriend” and the girlfriend is y/n. i’m sorry if it doesn’t make sense 😭 love u <3

full blooms

love u too bestie <3

aka jungkook really should’ve thought this through!!

...... oh no

there are so many people in the shop

not just any shop though :D

sometimes you collectively forget that this is yOUR shop and you’re the literal owner of it and you’re not just working it

and sometimes, you forget just how influential things could be

case in point: kim taehyung !!

kim taehyung as in the hottest musician in the scene rn, who happens to be vante on spotify, AND someone who you just happen to know as kim taehyung!!!

kim taehyung as in the friendly customer who comes into your shop more oftenly to look at your flowers than to buy them

and you just let him look at them without buying anything because there’s no harm in it!! the guy is just straight-up Vibing looking at the flowers

(and he also leaves a handsome tip in your jar even when he doesn’t buy anything!!)

you just knew him to be that pleasant customer,,, not exactly a world-renowned musician you couldn’t exactly piece together

but apparently, you’re now more aware than ever lmao

taehyung sneaked in the name of your flower shop somewhere into the lyrics of the mOST famous song from his newly-released album

flowers from spring day on my mind, corner of the street with the neon sign, heaven on my mind and i spent no dime

goddamn

it just so happens that you letting THEE vante look at flowers as he pleases has become his favorite routine and it just makes him so happy in general

so happy to the point that your shop is specifically mentioned

— so, so happy to the point that your shop had become fully-packed and was making single-file lines that stretched all across four blocks overnight

so sO happy to the point that he had unknowingly become a catalyst for your shop to be almost fined because so many people were clogging sidewalks and a warning to get it together so that there would be better organization

YOUR SHOP WAS LITERALLY FEATURED ON THE NEWS?????

anyways, taehyung slipped in from the staffroom you mentioned to him in passing two days after he dropped his album, and then could you properly freak out about him

he was giggly the whole time when you were spouting out your disbelief for him but tHEN he also apologized for all the (positive & money-making) trouble he’s gotten you into

and he managed to sales-talk you (u swear u are the boss here) into collaborating with him for a limited collection with all the favorite flowers he’s taken note of so he could share it with his fans

he even brought you a notebook with all the illustrations and ideas he’s conceptualized so yeah,,,, there’s that

not only do you serve more than a full house in your flower shop and spend much more hours and energy, you’ve also agreed to add something big into your plate that’s easily getting crowded

what a good thing you have jungkook :D

you could literally not ask for a better boyfriend than jungkook

he’s been so supportive the whole time and he kept sHRIEKING when you casually told him that the frequent sight-seeing customer turned out to be vante himself

“all this time?! all this time and you fORGOT to mention to me that he wears a leather watch and a pearl necklace??? baby, those are basically his trademarks!!”

he supports you in ways you can’t even fathom <3

he was supposed to help you in the shop to help tackle the horde of vante-loving and flowers-from-spring-day enthusiasts, but he got an even better idea

he spent the whole week designing and building an online website for spring day from scratch!! he wanted it to be perfect for you and everything you stand by

also even him, a computer sciences graduate, had to back up the website extra nifty because he already predicts that it would get so much traffic (!!)

he took it upon himself to hire from his friends to be your helpers for the shop because ur severely under-staffed

he has tHREE more-than-willing candidates!!!

jimin’s summer job in college was him being a cashier in goddamn music festivals :D OF COURSE he’s gonna be the greatest cashier you’ll ever have!!! he can whip up change even before the customer hands the bills; he’s that good

he also has a great stern voice of making people stand in organized lines and not cut it so that would come handy

hoseok has a great instinct for color theory!!! he just knows what works and what doesn’t and you need an extra mind to help conceptualize arrangements in the blink of an eye

namjoon is a master of small talk and an all-rounder!! you have a loT of customers who have no gist whatsoever on what they want, and you don’t want to risk giving them an arrangement they loathe!! he knows how to hit it

he was actually so excited when jungkook pitched him a job offer

he could literally go “y/n, the lady in yellow has a dalmatian. i could tell she would tulips in her arrangement along with hydrangeas.”

so that’s that, basically

you and jungkook have been hectic and apart for a whole week because you practically sleep in the shop trying to keep up with everything

he’s actually keeping the website and sneaky hires from you as secrets in the meantime because he wants to surprise you!!! like literally right now

he enters from the staffroom and make sure none of the people waiting by the entrance see him because that would be utter chaos

the shutters are all closed so no one from outside can see what’s inside, but you actually fAIL to realize that your shop would still be closed for another ten minutes

the moment you hear a voice, your mind automatically goes to “hi! welcome to spring day. what blooms would you like?” mode :|

jungkook frowns because you look so haggard under his trained eye even if you still look well-kempt!! you can’t have your shops and yourself appear ratty in the eager instagram stories that taehyung’s fans take

but that’s okay!!! he’ll coax you to come home with him tonight because he’s gonna tell you about his hires this morning

“hi! welcome to spring day. what blooms would you like?”

you briefly look up to send a smile, already fetching your paper on your left hand and twine and scissors on the other

“hi! i’m here to get flowers for my girlfriend.”

“that sounds lovely. what would you-“

wait

hold on a second

that’s jungkook’s voice....??

that’s your bOYFRIEND’S VOICE???

“j-jungkook?”

you mutter and the boy beams in return, registering the blank look on your face to be surprise instead of what you’re thinking

the tears suddenly pool at the corner of your eyes even before you realize

“is this your way of breaking up with me?”

...

.....

“what? nO!”

your shoulders visibly sag in relief but jungkook’s clearly perplexed on how you even came to that

“why would i ever be dumb enough to break up with you?” he immediately consoles you when you bury your face in your hands, hopping over the counter to put you in a massive hug

“i-i haven’t slept, dummy!! and i figured that you hate me because we haven’t seen each other for a week and-“

you say in between sobs and chuckles, giggling when your cheeks are smushed and jungkook keeps peppering you with wet kisses

“ten minutes before opening,” kook sweetly reminds you, kissing you on the lips after an entire week that the sheer euphoria he’s getting now is enough to last another

“mhmmm,” you hum when he presses his warm hand on the small of your back, “tell me about your week in ten minutes.”

“sounds good,” he affirms, scratching your scalp that makes you relax even more until he stops red-faced —

“but like, while multitasking, y’know? kiss me while i tell you about my week.”

#I GOT CARRIED AWAY THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A TINY DRABBLE FEEDBACK PLS N THANK U #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you

213 notes · View notes

enbyprentiss · 3 years

Note

From the list 'i love you' #97 #9 #16

-xo

#97: “I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

#9: “I saved a piece for you.”

#16: “I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

Pairing: Spencer x BAU!Fem!Reader

You can send in more requests from this list

Y/N woke up--well, she wasn’t really asleep per se. She was mostly just laying in her bed with her eyes closed in pitch-black darkness before her phone rang. She didn’t bother checking who it was, assuming it would just be for work.

“Hi--”, Spencer’s voice was soft on the other line, “Sorry for calling this late--”, his sentence devolved into just stutters.

“Don’t worry about it. I couldn’t sleep anyway. What’s up?”

“I--uh kind of need a favor, and you were the only person I knew would be awake still.”

“Let me guess, you got yourself mixed up in some crazy situation that would only ever happen to you and now you need me to come and save you?”, she joked.

“Yeah, pretty much.”, he huffed a laugh.

She knew exactly where he was, he had been gone for a week to visit his mom. Not that she was hyper-aware of his absence--ok, well maybe she was but only because work was no fun without him and definitely not for other reasons that she was trying really hard not to think about right now, “I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

When she pulled up next to Reid, the poor thing was practically shaking from how cold it was outside. Y/N leaned over to pop the passenger side door open, “What’s up, doc? Missed ya.”

Spencer did his best to contain his blush. Both from that comment and from how she had made her car more ‘Spencer friendly’, moving the seat back farther and clearing out the floor that was usually covered in water bottles and empty energy drink cans. Noticing his shiver she handed him one of his cardigans that he had left in her purse from a few cases ago. (Could she have given it back much earlier? Sure. Not the point.) He gladly accepted it and shrugged it around his shoulders. (Though her keeping it for this long didn’t help his blush settle.)

Y/N shifted gears and began to drive and Spencer did his best to ignore the anxieties he got from her only having one hand on the steering wheel, and instead focus on the way her head moved slightly to the music while her lips separated slightly in sync with the lyrics.

“Oh!”, she broke the comfortable silence and pointed to a bag of oranges, “I know you have that thing about ‘communal food’, as you call it, and I um ate most of them but--”, she giggled, “I saved a piece for you.”

“Are you forgetting that we once ate from the same fork? I don’t think there’s any going back from that, Y/N.”

“Yes, actually I did forget about that. Not all of us can have an eidetic memory, Spence. Anyway, what kind of mess did you land yourself into today?”

He popped the slice of orange into his mouth before starting, “Ok, my flight landed an hour and a half later than it should’ve which not even I could’ve predicted. But that also means, that the airport was way more crowded than usual and the more people the more germs so I did my best to stay in one area for as long as possible, though I now know that that is not a good idea. And on top of all of that, since I was an hour behind schedule that also meant that I missed my usual train home--which wouldn’t have been that bad in theory. However, the next train--which was two hours later, might I add, was full. Because why wouldn’t it be? So, I was forced to go back into that germ-infested building we dare call an airport until I decided that standing in the freezing cold was better than having an anxiety attack from overthinking germs. I thought about calling a taxi but due to how my day was going, I figured my odds on getting murdered were not great either.”

“God, Spence, why didn’t you call me sooner?!”

“I didn’t think it would come to that, Y/N!”, the next thing he said was so quiet she had just barely caught it, “B-but I’m glad it did.”

“Yeah?”, she turned to face him with a smile and it was clear from his expression that that was not meant to be heard by her.

“Mhm.”

While this may not have been Spencer’s day, it definitely was Y/N’s considering she had been lucky enough to stop at a red light. Which just so happened to be long enough for her to throw one arm around him while using her other hand to ruffle his hair, “You’re such a softie!”

“Y/N! How do you even have this much energy right now?!”

“Don’t worry about it.”, Spencer recognized the mischievous grin on her face.

“Are you saying that because you don’t want me to give you statistics on how likely your heart is to explode based on all the energy drinks you consume?”

“Maybe...”

“Y/N Y/L/N! What is it going to take for you to stop drinking those?”

“Hey! You’re one to talk. You drink like eight cups of coffee a day--that are all 90% sugar, by the way. And, if it wasn’t for my energy drink addiction you would still be standing there!”

“That is true, and this is the one time I’m grateful for said addiction of yours. But it is not going to stop me from telling you the statistics anyway.”

“Fine. Lay ‘em on me, doc.”, she sighed.

109 notes · View notes

saibug1022 · 4 years

Text

Okay but LAMP Mini Acapella Group au

Roman has the most vocal training so you know this man has got that falsetto and can get up to those notes if he needs to, but he hangs out mostly in the tenor range. He’s the one that got everyone together too. He posted a flyer and an ad on of his social medias and actually got some replies. He does a lot of the arranging at first, until it starts to become second nature to everyone but he still kinda leads it

Patton was first, and he’s a beautiful alto with a super fun energy. Usually him or Roman are the leads of songs and the other is harmony

Logan is rhythm. Beat boxing, backing, whatever. He helps Roman with arrangements because he’s in depthly trained in music theory. If there’s no rhythm really needed he’ll just set a tempo then he’ll be harmonies in the low tenor, high bass range.

Virgil was hesitant until he was persuaded to audition and holy shit how does someone’s voice even go that deep? He’s signed up immediately as their bass. He very rarely does the melody but sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures.

They grow closer and grow closer as they spend hours together rehearsing and then one day roman surprises them by singing a love song to all of them and asking them all out. They’re all very confused and hesitant at first. Logan and Patton finally say yes but Virgil panics and runs. Roman goes after him and assures him that he can say no and that he doesn’t even have to give him an answer if he wants to think about it! Virgil says yes though because with Roman being so considerate like that, well, Virgil just couldn’t say no.

So they go out and they keep going out. They keep rehearsing and performing though now there’s hand holding while they rehearse and victory kisses after a good performance. They record a cover on YouTube (it’s the Disney villain mashup Thomas did) and they can do so much with it because editing and layering and it blows the fuck up. So they start to do those more and they’re slowly growing and growing.

They’ve been going by the stage names Morality, Princey/Creativity, Anxiety, and Logic (their group was called CALM LAMP because of this) this whole time but one by one, when they’re comfortable, they reveal their names in videos on their channels and their fan base goes apeshit every time. Virgil, the little shit, doesn’t even make his own video. Instead in the outro of one of their cover videos he’s just like “Oh, and call me Virgil” and stops the video because he’s like that. Half the viewers didn’t even realize until people started screaming about it on social media and everyone went back and watched it

Eventually they get big enough that they buy this nice apartment and move in together. The four sides all lived together in harmony until Roman’s parents attacked, and by that I mean they wicked Remus out. They let Remus move in with them only now Remus is stuck living full time with an acapella group that has been singing together so long that even outside of rehearsals they'll just randomly break into song. They even have this game where someone calls out a song and everyone starts singing their part even if they haven’t arranged that song yet.

Someone save him.

Then quarantine hits and it only get’s worse because they refuse to perform even when everything starts to open up again until Corona is actually gone so all their only outlet is videos which take a lot more work. Remus does cope by starting a TikTok and randomly barging in on them with a comment request that they sing and it’s beautiful. He keeps it going even once quarantine ends

Speaking off, by the time quarantine is over Remus has had enough and invites his friend Janus over because “If I have to deal with you shits all the time you have to deal with my shits!”

While they’re all hanging out LAMP Remus is complaining so to spite him one of them (coughcough Virgil coughcough) calls out a song and they break out into song. Remus turns to Janus expecting him to be sympathetic and even Janus expects to be annoyed but then that cute boy Patton takes the lead and...wow. He’s really good.

Remus is just like “NOT YOU TOO” but accepts his fate

Janus starts dating Patton and even starts to play piano or guitar or ukulele in their videos sometimes. He doesn’t get an introduction, he just shows up sometimes in videos and the others call him Deceit. Him and Logan start to become friends and they basically just drink tea and talk about how great Patton is and complain about stupid people. What I’m saying is that Logan and Janus bond over gossip sessions.

Meanwhile Virgil and Roman, who don’t dislike but definitely don’t like Janus (or so they say), are all angy and jealous so without fail every single time Patton comes home from a date with Janus, Virgil and Roman are all like:

“Patton would you like help with __”

“Hey Pat, you want cookies?”

“Let’s cuddle, Patton.”

“I made the perfect blanket fort!”

Patton is a little confused and mildly upset they can’t just get along and realize they don’t have to fight for his attention. Buuuuut, he is also very much enjoying all the attention he is getting and how much love he is receiving and trying his best to return. Roman and Virgil are always showing off whenever Janus is over and then Janus starts doing it back.

And it only gets worse when Janus and Logan start dating.

Logan, Janus, and Patton will just be vibing and being gay then Virgil and Roman will come in and every braincell in Janus’s head will suddenly be dedicated to ERADICATING Virgil and Roman. This all just continues on and on (with Logan and Patton being very amused) until a very tired Remus points out “Are y’all trying to impress Logan and Patton or each other” and the three of them just look at each other like “oh shit”

(The following conversation is credited to @cate-geo. I just had to include it word for word, it made me laugh too much)

Roman: Look at my muscles!

Logan: Patton and I can’t even see your muscles from where we are.

Roman: Well I’m not trying to show you now AM I? I’M TRYING TO SHOW JANUS!

Remus: ...hey Roman? That’s kinda gay, man.

Roman sputters for a solid minute and Virgil is trying to decide if he should laugh before having an identity crisis or just go straight to it. Meanwhile Janus’s smug ass has known he likes them for a while now but he was also enjoying being shown Roman’s muscles all the time, okay?

Long story short, they get together and Janus moves in. He officially joins the group as an instrumentalist and another tenor and the group is renamed to CALMD DLAMP and it’s all really gay. Roman even proposes using a video. Remus is filming it for a TikTok and has them sing Love Story by Taylor Swift. So they jump to the bridge and then wait Roman is actually on his knees and he pulls out a specially made ring box with four rings in it and sings

“Marry me, all of you you’ll never have to be alone. I love you and that’s all I really know. I talked to your dads, go pick out a white suit, it’s a love story baby just say...yes.”

They all say yes and it’s very sweet. After verifying with them that it’s okay Remus posts it and it is trending on TikTok for days. At this point they’re basically Pentatonix and their fanbase is screeching and just so so happy for them.

Meanwhile poor Remus is still stuck in that apartment.

(credit to @cate-geo and @justtaky for helping me come up with like half of these ideas XD)

#dlamp acapella au #also known as the someone help Remus before he murders an entire acapella group au #sanders sides #sanders sides au #lamp #calm #dlamp #lamp au #dlamp au #roman #patton #logan #virgil #janus #remus #sympathetic janus #sympathetic remus #acapella au

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halfgclden · 3 years

Audio

EPISODE 32: A MAJOR OCCURANCE

The sound of spooky intro music plays and fades out. As the microphone clicks on, faint sounds of water and traffic can be heard in the background.

JADE: Hello cryptwizzlers, cryptrackers, but never cryptormentors because we’re all friends here. Welcome to a very special episode of Cryptwins in which we are not actually researching a cryptid. But! Before you shut this off and call us hacks, we are instead researching the recent disappearance of social media fitness guru; Edison Major.

More spooky music plays. There is also the sound of fingers tapping a rhythm. It's typical Joel, unable to contain his energy as he taps the dashboard in time with their intro music.

JOEL: Weeeeeeeell...Maybe we are hacks. —a pause as he laughs— Nah, just kidding. This is the real deal. I'm not sure you're ready for this. This is some spooky, and excuse my French, spooky shit. Tell us more about this Major disappearance? —another laugh— Get it?

JADE: [A short laugh-sigh is let out at Joel’s joke.] Okay, before we begin, two things. One, get ready for the barrage of major and minor jokes, courtesy of Joel here.

JOEL: Got a whole list, be ready! He lets Jade finish, but listeners can still hear the tapping sound while she speaks.

JADE: Secondly, we’re still on the road here, so if the audio is bad or choppy... deal with it? —another small laugh— Anyyyyway. Spooky is right. This all began in September of last year, when @majored posted a picture of himself in a dark basement wearing a weird costume and then immediately went off the grid. And, you know, I’m all for a social media cleanse, people do it all the time. Buuut, what really brought this to our attention was a month later, on Halloween Eve of all nights, when a video popped up of him getting his ass kicked by someone in a Kakashi Hatake costume.

JOEL: Now, I know y'all are asking yourselves "Isn't he a fitness guru? Why was some weeb kickin' his ass?" And to that I say hey! Some weebs are strong, some are Super Saiyan, and others are Kakashi Hatake, the most talented ninja in Konohagukure.

JADE: lets out a laughing wheeze.

JOEL: We don't endorse fighting here. But I digress —a laugh— back on topic. So this guy just up and disappears out of nowhere? And there's not a peep of him until we see Kakashi givin’ him the business. What does this all mean?

JADE: Okay, so, let’s get the full story. @majored goes off the grid, comes back to get his ass kicked by a Naruto character, disappears again, comes back to spit on someone and call them a see you next Tuesday, and then disappears again. And he hasn’t come back online. So what’s up with that? Well... we did a little digging.

Another spooky noise plays over the sound of Jade organizing a stack of papers.

JOEL: Daaaaaaang. I’d say those are some fightin' words, especially from someone who keeps pulling a vanishing act, don’t ya think?

JADE: They really are! I mean, he is from New Zealand, but even so, I think you don’t use that word unless you want to attract some attention. -She clicks her tongue as she gets back on topic- The video was originally posted the night before Halloween of last year, by @ime.are on Twitter. Obviously they got a lot of hate and questions after posting this, but all of them were left unanswered. The only person in the video that was tagged was Major, but upon further examination, this Ime seems to follow and have pictures with someone who happened to be dressed as Kakashi that same night, which has led many to speculate that these ninjas are the same person.

JOEL: So we all know Halloween's a spooooky season. Perfect for parties and all that jazz. But all those costumes make it a perfect time for disguises. Was that even the real Major? Was the person who spit the real Major? Who is this Ime and how do they fit into the story? And who— a pause for dramatic effect and muffled laughter as he tries to stay serious— is this mystery ninja? Tell us more!

JADE: Alright, alright. So this mystery ninja goes by Abel, or @_kllledbycain on the Gram. At first glance, they look pretty much like every other TikTok e-boy; black and white photos, pet snake, the insinuation that they’re dead, whole nine yards.

JOEL: snorts when Jade announces their handle, and again at her eboy comment, wheezing. It's true, it's true!

JADE: And this stuff is so common right now, so nothing really raises any eyebrows, right? Right? Well, tell me, why would a Tik Tok goth go around beating the crap out of a random influencer? Stay tuned for the theory. First, we’re gonna take a step back and look at the whole situation, because, of course, it doesn’t end there.

JOEL: Ohhhh snap! I'm on the edge of my seat, and I bet our listeners are too.

JADE: [clears her throat] So if we go back to the original poster of the video, @ime.are, and we take a look at their Insta, who is on it but... @devinitely? Okay, so @devinitely is in the same place as @majored, clearly, and, for anyone that doesn’t know, she’s been doing a bunch of collabs with @loganvance. This places not one, not two, but three influencers all together in this place where weebs are running around assaulting people.

JOEL: Okay. Okay, I need to know! Where are they? What's bringing all these influencers together? Are @devinitely and @loganvance part of something much more sinister than it seems? [He makes a funny face at Jade and wiggles his fingers, before dropping his voice to a stage-whisper.] Is it some kind of twisted influencer cult?

JADE: Shhhh, Joel, spoilers.

JOEL: [He laughs.] Sorry, sorry!

JADE: [muffled laughter over the sound of more papers rustling.] So, any skeptics out there might say, oh, well, this Ime Are is just a lucky person who happens to be in the presence of more than one social media personality. However, Devin follows the weeb that may or may not have kicked Major's ass. And, according to a cast photo of Rocky Horror, on her boyfriend's Instagram, both the weeb in question and the hot man that tore the two apart were part of the cast. This would be a great time to mention that a link to the video is in the description, as are all the pictures from social media that I'm referencing.

JOEL: [to Jade but loud enough for the mic to pick it up at regular volume] Oh snap, you got everything together in a link? Like, I could click the link to check it out right now? — A pause as he does just that.— Woah, cryptwizzlers, she's not kidding. Click the link in bio, you won't be disappointed. Okay, Jade...hear me out. Given that it was Halloween, the night of nights. Do you think that...maybe it was all an elaborate event? Was it staged? Is any of this real?

JADE: Oh, my dear brother, always the skeptic. Don’t you think that it’s a bit much for him to stop posting entirely in order to get publicity? And we mustn’t forget the spitting on someone in South Dakota, that’s not exactly his brand. Unless he’s trying out something like Taylor Swift and Reputation but... I digress. No, I don’t think any of this is staged, and I’ll tell you why. Let’s go back to the weird cow print basement post. You know who also happened to post something about some cowboy party? Oh, um, Devin’s boyfriend? A picture of him, Devin, and Logan? Which... puts them and Major in the same place on the night that he disappeared.

JOEL: Not a skeptic! Just trying to get all these questions answered. —A laugh— You're right, that's 180 from the online presence he used to have. All theories aside, —a pause— I'd love to go to a cowboy party. Get me a glow-in-the-dark cowboy hat. You know they make 'em. —He laughs again, mouthing 'what?' to Jade.—

JADE: Oh, def. We're getting matching hats. Check out our merch in a few weeks —she laughs— Glow in the dark mothman themed cowboy hats, talk about a niche.

JOEL: Snap, we have to do that now, 'cause I want one real bad. But okay, back on track. This cowboy party. The origin of this theory, yeah? Oh snap...what were those three doing in the same place as Major? And all in cow print too? That's....majorly suspicious! [He trails off into laughter, his voice doing that wheezy thing when someone's trying to finish their sentence before cracking up. Recovering, he adds the following.] Wait, wait, wait. What about—

JADE: Yes, yes, yes. —she cuts Joel off as though he's finished his sentence, chuckling at his joke— Patience, my dear twin, we will get there. —the smile is evident in her voice—

JOEL: I feel like somehow, I ended up as your Padawan for this episode. — he laughs—

JADE: You heard it here, I'm absolutely schooling Joel this episode. — she laughs— First, we're going to backtrack all the way to the original poster again. You know we snooped their whole page, and they're pretty regularly posting pictures with this person, @rengaaay, who isn't an influencer but she makes some of those sick ass roller skating videos... this isn't sus, just cool, link in the description. —a slight pause as she tries to get back to her train of thought— Anyway, what is sus is that she tags two people in her photos all the time... But no joke guys check out their Insta profiles they look different in like every other picture. Which, uh, could just be editing but also could be something.... more sinister? Hold onto that thought.

JOEL: That's such a good handle, dang! Better than @lumberjoel, honestly. I have to say I'm jelly. We should get branded rollerskates, maybe @rengaaay can advertise for us if we ship them. JK...unless? —more laughter as he waits for Jade to get back on the train and pulls up the profiles in question to take a look for himself— Huh...is it editing? Are they masters of disguise? Makeup professionals? —He starts to say something else but is pretty sure he's figured out where Jade's going with this.— What could be more sinister than human chameleons?

JADE: [The sound of papers shuffling can be heard] Oh, yeah, so, it's weird but I think every time the siblings are in a pic together they look more like each other? I dunno if this really makes sense but seriously dudes check the post with this episode because it has a bunch of photos side by side and... yeah. You pull a photo of them by themself and it's like okay, I know what this dude looks like and then you put them side by side and... I dunno, makeup? Contacts? Cloning, mayhaps? And, just so that I'm not just holding on to one thing too much... check their post from August 12th, linked below. Their brother... doesn't have a shadow. Why would you edit that out of a photo? No way are they going that hard to be memelords.

JOEL: Okay, let me look at this. Wha— That's weird as hell. How much hair dye do these two use? Hm. Could be clones? —snaps his fingers—Definitely clones. —he snorts loudly, laughing before clearing his throat— Ahem, uh. No shadow? That's dedication! I dunno, maybe it's some new challenge for the 'gram. Oh...but wait. I found a video. Look, Jade. No shadow. In a video. What the—

JADE: A video, guys. —A moment of muffled laughter before her mic cuts out, but the sound of it clicking on again is followed almost immediately— This is a big family, guys, and a big weird one because their other brother @sleepyfinch... Okay, wait, he himself is pretty normal, super cute, shout out, but guys, ghouls, you know who he has tagged in a recent post? Yet another influencer. Except this one is from Italy? @gaborealis; essentially, he’s a medium, so if you didn’t believe that the supernatural were at play beforehand... buckle up.

JOEL: Wait, wait, I'm still on the video thing. Who has time to edit a video? —his voice cracks when he says video and he covers his laughter as he focuses—

JADE: [wheezing] Shut up —there is no malice in her voice, and she’s laughing too.—

JOEL: So weird, I love it. Oh snap— the @gaborealis? It's time to get ghosty! —echoes "ghosty" and hums the Cha Cha Slide tune for a couple seconds— Okay, so wait. Does this mean everyone's favorite medium is also in the same place as...three? Three other influencers and this weird family of....maybe shapeshifters? No? Too crazy a theory?

JADE: You know what they say, cryptoddlers; no theory is too crazy. Everything Einstein came up with? Theory.

JOEL: Bringing Einstein into it, huh?

JADE: Oh you know it. —a snort— Anyway, according to Devin’s boyfriend’s Instagram, it doesn’t end there. @spencerkeahi, a youtuber and disability rights advocate who comes from Hawaii is also there with that gaggle. Shout out to @elidrising for tagging people and location. So what are these influencers from all corners of the globe gathering together for? Well, let’s take a look at the original poster again. You go on their Twitter, and a few months back it’s all just videos of people... fighting? In some sort of underground place. Mayhaps... the same creepy basement that Major posted his last photo? —a small gasp, as though she’s surprised by this— No, that must be a coincidence... or is it?

Another spooky sound plays

JOEL: @elidrising is the man, dang! Are you tellin' me there's a...—he lowers his voice to a whisper— secret influencers-only Fight Club? I wouldn't put it past @devinitely TBH. Honestly, I'd join one...even though I guess I've broken the first rule but talking about it, huh? Actually— Jay, do you think we'd even be allowed to join? Are podcasters influencers? Poll in my story right now, let us know what y'all think.

JADE: Right now? Joel, this isn’t going up for another week, at least. —She’s obviously trying to sound less amused than she’s coming off— Once we get the blue check we’re influencers, so we’ve got a few million followers to go, I think.

JOEL: Yeah, right now! They'll hear that when the episode goes up and respond in real ti— Oh, no. You're right. Oops. No poll in my story, y'all. False alarm. Blue check, huh? You heard it here, cryptwizzlers, we're gonna get that blue check. Tell your friends, tell your family. Heck, tell that cute barista at your coffee shop to listen to our podcast! We might just do a giveaway when we get that lil' blue swoosh.

JADE: [clears her throat.] You know what’s a great way to get us that blue check, though?

A different, light sort of spooky music begins playing in the background, meaning that it’s time for the ad break

JOEL: Take it away!

JADE: Checking out a little app called Creature Comforts. Alright guys, not that this show isn’t one hundred percent real as it is, but for real, I love this app. A dating sim that features everyone’s favorite... for lack of a better term, monsters. Did you watch the Shape of Water and go, “Damn, I’d tap that”? Do you want to snuggle with a Sasquatch? Do you just wish you could find yourself a GF with more eyes? Well, have we got the app for you. Creature Comforts lets you do all this and more. A choose-your-own-adventure game where you can smooch beasts, marry Mothman, and ignore the outside world. It’s seriously all I want. And, if you enter the code cryptwins— that’s the name of the podcast you’re listening to, no capital letters, when you download the app, then it’s only 99 cents to play without ads. Which, trust me ghouls, is worth it. I don’t want anything interrupting my cut scene with the most stunning eyes in West Virginia.

JOEL: Don't forget that scuba diving date with Nessie! Or, or...that half-day hike with Bigfoot. —he's laughing again smh— There's a reason Jade does the ad reads and not me. But, I can tell you that Mothman is sure to sweep you off your feet. And it's not just because he can fly.

JADE: It’s the —a pause for finger snapping— alliteration for me. But that’s Creature Comforts, exactly how you think you’d spell it, don’t ask us ‘cause we’re dyslexic, and cryptwins, like the name of this podcast. Tweet us @cryptwins to let us know how far along you are, who you’re pursuing, and what mysteries you unlock about their backstories. Now... I think it’s time for a timeline, just to get us sorted out, what do you think, Joel?

JOEL: Personally, I'm still tryin' to land a date with the Creature from the Black Lagoon. I guess we'll see what happens. Aw heck yeah! Give us a timeline, give us the dirt. — a laugh — Give the people what they want!

JADE: Okay — the shuffling of paper is heard once more — We start in September: @majored goes off the grid after posting a creepy picture of himself in a weird outfit in a spooky basement. This is around the same time that the Scarlet Surfer was in NYC for fashion week, which @majored accompanied him to, meaning that it isn’t entirely out of the question for him to still be in New York. Also on social media at this time is @devinitely and @loganvance also both is cowboy outfits, though the creepy basement is absent from both of them.

JOEL: I guess September isn't too early for weird Halloween stuff to start? What with the spooky basement and everything. Right? And everyone loves a cowboy moment— or have cowboys become the new clown? I heard there was a clown renaissance and people like them now? I don't really know where we stand on the whole clown— what?

JADE: I see our next hot debate. Cowboys: Hot or not? Personally, I liked cow print, but I can see cowboys going out soon. Once they reach killer clown status is when it’ll be ideal for me.

JOEL: Personally, I vote hot. And uhhh, not to kinkshame you Jay, but killer clowns are a no from me.

JADE: [tsks] Kinkshamed, by my own brother no less.

JOEL: [a loud laugh] You know I'm just kidding. No kinkshaking, ya heard? I'd literally let the Jersey Devil step on me so. To each their own.

JADE: [snorting] Um, gross.

JADE: Now to October: There is a production of Rocky Horror, a cast photo is uploaded to @elidrising, the account of @devinitely’s boyfriend. This places not only @devinitely and @loganvance in Montauk, but it also places @crispyboiz and @_kllledbycain in Montauk too. These are two of the people that are suspected to belong in the video by @ime.are, in which (suspected) @_kllledbycain, dressed as Kakashi Hatake attacked @majored, only to be torn apart by good citizen @crispyboiz. This video is the first that we’ve seen of @majored since his last post, and he offers nothing in response to it.

JOEL: Okay. Okay. Now, you know I love a good shadow-cast of Rocky Horror. I've always wanted to play Frank. I would rock that part. Am I wrong? —he laughs— But okay, that's - count 'em - three influencers in one place? If @elidrising is there, we can assume @devinitely is too because she was in the same location as, uh, whatshername? Logan? And that's the same location as @ime.are. Who took the video of Kakashi kicking @majored's ass. @_kllledbycain— more like killedbyKakashi, eh? Seriously why are all these people together?

JOEL: [as an afterthought] It's gotta be a cult.

JADE: November to December: Nothing happens with @majored, @ime.are also offers nothing except for quote unquote “#teamkakashi”, which is funny because they never tagged Kakashi, but anyways. Upon deeper inspection, there are videos on their Twitter from last May, of people in a fighting ring. And then people fighting on a lake? But the fighting ring looks super dangerous and I dunno, like you said, cult-y? Fight-club-y? Call it what you will. In any case, we are led to believe that this fighting has been going on for some time in the background.

JOEL: Okay, come on. That’s definitely a cult. I’ve seen the movie, can confirm. — he groans— Literally what is an Italian astrologer doing there? Wait, wait, wait. Montauk? You said Montauk. Montauk, as in on Long Island. As in like —he drops his voice to a stage-whisper— the part of Long Island that peeps believe to be the site of a government cover-up involving kidnapping, mind control, and time travel? The part that inspired Stranger Things? That Montauk? Snap. I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together sooner. Jade, Jade. What if this is, I don’t know, like, MKUltra 2.0?

JADE: Yes, yes that Montauk, I’m glad you picked up on that. Look, I’m not saying that it’s an influencer’s-only thing, but I am saying that some might be in the area, and maybe involved. At the same time throughout all of this, we have a culmination of more influencers seeming to know this network of people. @gaborealis, an Italian astrologer, is seen in pictures of @sleepyfinch, who was also in the production of Rocky Horror, and has pictures with @crispyboiz and, god, this name is a freaking nightmare, @_kllledbycain. Not to mention this guy has many pictures of weird… family members? Who sometimes look alike? Okay, but seriously, @kodakola and @sonofpeter, how is your hair not straw at this point? Is it wigs? I think my hair would simply fall out. And y’all using Insta filters or what, cause… I’m not gonna get into it, let’s keep going.

JOEL: Maybe they're makeup vloggers or something. Gotta change up the look for views, right? Don't forget to like, comment, subscribe and uhhhh, smash that follow button— or whatever YouTubers say. —he laughs— Okay but seriously, yeah. @sonofpeter, @kodakola, whatever you two are doing to your hair, let me know because I'm trying to bleach my hair and dye it bright purple without it falling out. And since we're doing it at our next stop, well, your advice will probably be too late. But still, what are your secrets? Is it...clones?

JADE: Joel! —she’s laughing again.— Timeline and then theories. —she clears her throat— After that long silence, a Tweet emerges. January 8th. "Can’t believe @majored SPAT on me and called me a C-Blank-Blank-T when he checked into @SDFamilyMotel last night”. This places Major across the country from where we believed him to be, but acting so strangely that one must wonder… was that really him? Or was it someone that just looked like him? Or was it a cry for help? Nothing’s been heard since from @majored, which I guess… leads us to our theories. —a pause— You were saying… clones, Joel?

JOEL: Sheeeeesh, this is not @majored's year. I gotta say, this sounds totally different from the vibe that this guy used to put out on his social media. Obviously Instagram is fake blah blah blah, you know the spiel, but like. Damn. He spit on them? —a pause as he considers what his sibling has said— You know....I think that's a really good point. Was that even the real him? Will the real Ed Major please stand up?

JADE: I know. It just seems out of character, and terrible for a reputation, but it also would make sense if... One, this is a fake @majored, meant to stir up controversy before he goes underground again. And with an action like spitting on someone and calling them a name like that? Who cares what the dude does after that? Unfollowed, cancelled, whatever. And why would this guy want to go underground, well, I'm glad you're so interested. Well, the official Cryptwins theory is that maybe... just maybe, the crazy, government cover-up Montauk that we all know and love isn't that far from truth. We see that they have means of covering up shadows —she lets out a laugh— and people whose faces just change? And who else is there, @spencerkeahi, someone who explains rehabilitation, maybe someone who has experience helping people get used to being a clone? @ime.are, a nurse who enjoys taking videos of people fighting? It all adds up, people!

JOEL: Yeah, seriously. With the real @majored MIA, there would be no one to combat the backlash from this supposed...clone? Imposter? And maybe that’s what they want. Looks like Montauk isn’t the ideal vacation spot anymore, huh? Even if their seaside cabins are super chill and homey. But I digress. Something sinister is going on. Something bigger than we can even imagine. A secret underground facility that’s...cloning influencers? Training them? Your guess is as good as mine. And that’s why we’re on this road trip, isn’t that right Jade? To get some answers?

JADE: Exactly. —it sounds as though she is holding back a laugh or a cough.— Cross country roadtrip in which we explore different topics like this one, and on the way, we'll document our progress and any spooky encounters. Check out our insta, @cryptwins to get all the updates, and consider hitting us up on Patreon if you want us to be able to afford the gas to get all the way to the east coast.

JOEL: I’ll be posting behind the scenes content in the “ROADTRIP” highlight on my Insta throughout the trip so be sure to check my stories. You might get lucky and find some special codes for Creature Comforts but, hey. You didn’t hear it from me. -he laughs and there’s the distinct sound of a bag of chips being opened- What Jade meant to say is gas and snack money. So yeah, go go go! Check out the Patreon! We might even do a giveaway at the end of our trip, get you guys some cool souvenirs we pick up on our travels. Not a bad idea, eh?

JADE: Joel, my ears are literally bleeding right now. Thanks. Anyway, our second theory will also be exclusive to our Patrons, so be sure to get the full video there. Cryptwins... out...

Her voice fades out and the music from the beginning fades in, takes over, and plays until the end of the track.

#c: jade #c: jadejoel #a major occurance

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statticscribbles · 3 years

Text

Soundtrack Chpt 8

Summary: Scott Reed/Reader, College and the future you have together, the final chapter of soundtrack!

You’d been nervous about starting college. Besides it being your first time away from home without your parents it was also the first time you’d be so far away from Scott, and while he assured you that absence made the heart grow fonder you were still nervous he’d find somebody else to love, that was closer.

When your first holiday break from college came, despite almost drowning in exams and essays for your musical theory classes you’d managed to carve out a little time to visit your family, and Scott.

While it was only a few days seeing him reassured you that you were both on the right track to having a better future together.

Scott had insisted on coming to visit you, you’d been more than happy as long as it was during one of the breaks, the last thing either of you needed was to be missing classes. You’d been happy to see him touring him around New york and pointing out all of the little dive bars and spots you play at, you’d been really excited to show him the recording studio, when you get there you can see how impressed he is and you grin growing in excitement to show him your dorm room.

It’d been another month since Scott had visited. You’d gotten settled back into your routine, when you’d been offered a change to play with another group you’d been excited. Arranging everything while still studying was cutting it close with your already erratic sleep schedule. You were falling asleep in class and one of the teachers had asked you to stay back, commenting how if the performance was going to affect your class work then something needed to change. Thankfully the professor was kind and offered to exchange the essay you had to have done next week, for a full video taping of the concert you were going to perform.

While you’d told Scott about the concert and promised to send him the full video taping you were doing for school you could hear the disappointment in his voice.

“Seriously babe, I want you there, but it’s the middle of the school year. I know your parents and teachers would kill you if you ditched college to come over to my concert, besides it's a full day just of travelling, and that’s sooo not worth it.” You try to hide your disappointment, you can tell Scott is disappointed as well but you’re both trying to push it away to be excited about the actual concert.

The band you’re performing with wanted to get one last practice session in and you’d been more than happy to go as you wanted to prove yourself but also it was a good distraction from your earlier talk with Scott.

“So Y/N we were thinking it might be better if you don’t sing with us.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah we were thinking you could either open or close for us?”

“Oh shit yeah man, I’d love to!”

You’re grinning from the stage laughing after the band had introduced you.

The show has finished and you’re surprised by the swarm of people that are cheering specifically for you, clearly excited and enjoying your performance.

“Good job babe.” Scott’s grinning from backstage and you only catch his eye because one of the band members mentioned someone was backstage for you.

“What are you doing here?” You ask back at your dorm, trying not to fall asleep on Scott.

“Well I found out that there was an apprenticeship.”

“Here? For coaching?”

“Mhmm, and I got accepted! So I’ll be coaching and teaching here for a while, and still studying, I’ve transferred college’s!”

“Holy shit that’s incredible.”

“Mhmm, so I’m working on getting an apartment.”

“Oh?” You grin at him and he kisses you.

“Yeah, I need a roommate though, you know any musician’s looking for a place to crash?” he winks at you and you laugh nodding.

“Yeah some dude named Y/N, he’s dating a baseball coach in training, crazy isn’t it.” Scott laughs and you sigh, already tallying up how much you’ll need to bring in for rent, and how you’ll have to request a change of housing form from the college so you can move out of your dorm.

Scott seems nervous for some reason and you wonder if it’s maybe the fact he’s going to be coaching his first major game this year, since he’d finished college and had gotten the teaching and coaching position before you’d moved in together two years ago. You want to say something about it before you can he all but demands you go out to dinner, a nervous sort of laughter following his voice. You grin, deciding if he wants to talk about it he will.

You’re finishing up dessert when he seems like he does want to talk and you’re waiting for him to start explaining how he’s nervous about, instead he just kneels down and holds out a ring to you.

Your mother and sister are crying from their seats, your father had offered to walk you down the aisle and you’d agreed, excited as you can spot all your friends in various nice clothes grinning at you or Scott and you can’t wait to actually be married to the man you love.

You knew as you watched Scott play with your son and daughter on his day off from coaching that everything was going to be okay. There would always be issues and problems but that was what happened in any relationship, and you knew that both of you would be able to make it through anything as long as you had each other.

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knightofthecourt · 4 years

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Love Bites - Chapter 1

Belatrice Gray was a TA at Belgrave University, working hard to stay on top of her marking and trying not to flunk her own studies, when a night out with her bff Randall and his roommates, changed everything.

Hamish Duke x OC fiction with fluff, romance and angst. OC description purposefully left out to allow for reader personalisation.

“I call this one a Wolf Bite.” Hamish set the tall glasses down in front of Randall and Bela, smiling as they both took a sip, and then another immediately.

“Haim, this is amazing.” Bela said as Randall nodded in agreement. Her lips quirked up in delight, causing a rush of warmth to radiate throughout Hamish’s chest.

He seated himself across from her, trying to ignore the sudden fluttering in his stomach.

Belatrice Gray - Bela, to her friends - had transferred to Belgrave’s Linguistics department from a college on the West Coast at the start of the year. After Randall was assigned as her tour guide during orientation they’d become fast friends and now the RA spent almost as much time with her as he did with Hamish, Lilith and Jack.

Though Hamish was usually reluctant to let the others bring friends back to the Den, when Randall finally introduced them to Bela he’d instantly made an exception for her. Not only was she sweet, funny and smarter than anyone else he’d met at Belgrave, she was also fair with the students under her guidance as a TA, and a loyal and caring friend to Randall - qualities that Hamish admired greatly.

As Bela became a semi-regular fixture at their nights out, nights in and revision sessions, Hamish had found himself making an effort to be around whenever Bela was present.

They’d spent many afternoons this semester studying in the Den’s comfy living room and as finals drew closer, Randall regularly recruited Bela for last minute cramming sessions. This afternoon it was Advanced Anatomy, with a side of Diagnostic Reasoning.

The dark haired man sighed and flopped down next to Bela on the shabby-but-comfortable sofa. She shifted as he jostled the cushions, almost knocking her book out of her hands.

From his armchair Hamish could see Bela reach over and run her hand up and down Randall’s arm in a soothing gesture. “You’ll get there.” She said, still focused on her work. “You know this stuff already, you’re just tired.”

Randall scoffed. “That’s easy for you to say. I can’t believe you dropped out of Pre Med - your grasp of the human body is truly astounding.”

“Yeah, my mother can’t either,” Bela joked.

“Another thing you and the Ham-ster have in common.”

Hamish winced at the nickname, but let it go. Randall was tired, after all.

Bela frowned, “A good grasp of the human body?”

Randall, who had taken this moment to have a sip of his drink, choked on his mouthful.

Hamish reached over to pat his friend on the back. “Disappointing our parents.” he bowed his head slightly, “I was Pre Law.”

“Really? “ Bela said, raising an eyebrow. “When I imagine you in a courtroom, I put you in handcuffs.”

“Is that something you imagine regularly?” Hamish flashed her a smile. She laughed.

“Jesus,” Randall muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Hamish’s enhanced hearing to pick up. “If I don’t choke to death on my drink, the sexual tension in this room is going to smother me.”

He leapt up from his chair, narrowly avoiding the pillow that sailed past his head. “Anyone want a snack? I need popcorn.”

As he headed to the kitchen Hamish turned his attention to Bela. She was chewing on the end of a pen, lost in the pages of her textbook. His breath hitched as the afternoon light filtering in through the windows caught the edges of her hair, lighting a halo around her.

“Bels?”

“Mmhm?”

“Randall mentioned you’re swamped with work at the moment?”

“Oh?” Bela made a face. “Yeah, Professor Liebernacht dumped all of his marking on me again - big surprise. I have to grade ninety Syntactic Theory papers by the end of the week.”

“How about we mark papers together tonight?” Hamish tried to keep his voice light and even to disguise the hammering in his chest. “I have practise tests to get through, it’s going to take hours. Maybe we could get a take-out, keep each other company?”

“Oh.” She looked up from her book. “Yeah, that would be great actually. As long as you make me one of your signature cocktails too?”

A smile lit up his face. “I can make you as many cocktails as you like, I think we probably both need a drink this far into finals season.”

“Great idea Ham-and-cheese!” Randall said, returning with a large bowl clutched to his chest. “Hey Lil,” He yelled up the stairs, “Big night out tonight with Hamish and Bela, let’s blow off some steam.”

“What? No, that’s not what I-” Hamish began in protest.

“I’m in.” Lilith appeared in the hallway. “But I get to choose the bar this time, the last one Bela chose was lame.”

“Hey,” Bela objected.

“Cool, I’ll tell Jack and Alyssa.” Randall sat down, setting the popcorn on the coffee table in front of him, and pulled out his phone. “Meet here at 8pm?”

Bela looked from Randall to Hamish, who was glaring daggers at his friend. She shrugged.

“Great!” Randall’s phone buzzed. “They’re in. Thanks, Haim. We could all do with a break tonight - your papers can wait until tomorrow, can’t they?”

Hamish bit back his disappointment. “I guess they’ll have to.”

- - - - -

“Dude, you have to stop.”

Randall placed a hand firmly over Hamish’s, stilling the older man’s fingers. He’d been drumming his nails on their table for the past ten minutes and even with the music in the club drowning out the sound, it was extremely irritating.

“What’s up with you tonight?”

“Nothing.” Hamish lied, freeing his hand from Randall’s grasp.

Randall’s suspicion grew as he followed Hamish’s gaze to the bar where Jack, Bela and Alyssa were ordering a round of shots.

“Fine.” Hamish groaned, when he noticed Randall surveying Bela. “It’s just weird. I asked Bela on a date and now we’re all hanging out together.”

Randall’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “What?! You finally asked her out? When the hell did that happen?”

“This afternoon. I asked her to hang out tonight.”

“But did you really?” Lillith smirked over the top of her glass. “I’m not sure she realised you were actually asking her out.”

“When did this happen?” Randall frowned “And how come you know about it when I don’t Lil?”

“Duh. I’m a werewolf.” She shrugged. “I can hear everything in that house.”

“You were there, Randall.” said Hamish, glancing over at Bela who, thankfully was still out of earshot.

“Oh.” Randall’s eyes widened. “That was a date? Hamish, I totally blocked you!”

“He blocked himself.” Lillith shook her head. “In what world is asking someone to mark papers with you a date?”

“I know.” Hamish rubbed his neck. “I thought it might be a good jumping off point? Actually spending some time alone together.”

A smile worked its way across Randall’s face. “Well if it’s alone time you want, you only had to ask!”

“Randall, don’t” Hamish hissed.

“Don’t what?” Jack asked, placing a tray of shots down in front of his friends. Bela slipped into the booth next to Hamish, brushing his thigh with hers as she slid across to make space for Alyssa and Jack.

Randall grabbed a shot and threw it back. “Jack, Alyssa - Lillith was just telling me how much she wanted to dance.” He said, barely pausing to take breath.

“No I - Ow.” Lillith bared her teeth at Randall. She jerked her leg out of his reach, massaging the sore spot on her left shin. “Yeah,” she agreed, “I totally want to dance. On the dance floor. With people. Hamish you stay here and look after our shit.”

She grabbed Jack’s arm and yanked him from the booth before he could pick up his drink. Randall followed her, gesturing for Alyssa to join them.

Bela and Hamish sat in stilted silence for a moment before Hamish cleared his throat. “You can go and dance if you want to, I don’t mind looking after everything.”

“Actually, I’m good here.” Bela said.

Hamish’s cheeks glowed as he returned her easy smile.

Bela was enjoying spending time with Randall and his friends but she couldn’t deny that she’d rather be grading papers with Hamish tonight. At first Randall has requested that they hang out at the Den as it was quieter than the dorms and closer to the campus than her apartment, but recently it had been at Bela’s insistence that they’d studied there. Bela hadn’t been sure if Randall realised it was because she wanted an excuse to spend time with Hamish, but his not so subtle attempt at leaving them alone to go ‘dancing’, had pretty much just confirmed that he knew about her crush.

Bela cringed. Hopefully Hamish didn’t realise that their friend was playing matchmaker, that would just be too embarrassing.

“Bels?” Hamish was staring at her in confusion. Bela realised he’d been talking to her this whole time.

“Sorry,” she stuttered, “what were you saying?”

As he leaned forward in his chair the club’s strobe lights cast his face in shadow, picking out the contours of his high cheekbones and strong jaw. Bela’s gaze followed the line up from his neck, to his full lips and then up to his eyes, which were trained on her.

“I was asking if you wanted to hang out tomorrow instead. I know I said grading papers but we could do something else if you want? There’s a new sci-fi film on at the student lounge or we could go out to eat.” He tipped his head towards the dance floor. “Lillith informed me that grading papers isn’t really a date activity.”

Bela felt a well of happiness bubble up. So Hamish was actually asking her out? She hadn’t been sure before.

“She’s wrong,” Bela shook her head. “Anything can be a date if you’re with the right person.” As a smile flooded Hamish’s face her lips turned up to mirror his.

“You know you haven’t said yes, yet.”

Bela paused, as if considering his proposal. “Actually, I’m hungry now. Do you want to get some-”

“Yes,” Hamish interrupted before she finished. He beamed at her. “Let’s go, I’ll tell the others we’re leaving.”

“Great,” said Bela, “I’m just going to grab my coat. I’ll meet you outside.”

As they made their way across the club neither of them noticed the figure watching them from the other side of the room.

- - - - -

If you ignored the distant bass leaking from the building’s windows it could almost be considered peaceful out here, Bela thought. She inhaled the fresh, cool air, enjoying how it chased away the faint buzz in her temples, and leaned against a wall, scrolling through her phone as she waited for Hamish.

“Hey,” a voice broke through the night. “You’re Bela, right?”

Bela turned to find a young man next to her. He was wearing a Belgrave t-shirt under a fitted plaid shirt, and his dirty blonde hair was cropped in a trendy cut. Despite looking like every other rich, entitled frat boy on Bela’s course, as he grinned up at her his face was pleasant.

“Uh, yeah,” Bela frowned in confusion. He looked vaguely familiar. “Do I know you?”

“Tanner Jeffries - I’m new to the Linguistics department.” He held out a hand, shaking hers firmly when she placed her palm in his.

He chuckled lightly, making his cheeks dimple. “I know what you’re thinking - why oh, why would anyone join Linguistics? Well, I’m a glutton for punishment. I just couldn’t resist meeting the notorious Professor Liebernacht.”

“He’s the worst,” Bela confirmed, with a small laugh “I’ll be surprised if we have any students left after this year.”

“Yeah, you should see his reviews on Rate My Prof.”

“I know,” Bela couldn’t help but return his smile. “Half of those are from his TAs.”

Tanner chuckled again. He reached up to rub the side of his neck and shot her an apologetic look. “Hey, I know this is a bit weird but my car’s not starting. I was going to ask for a flashlight in the club so I can check out the engine but… could I borrow the light on your phone. It’ll just take a minute.”

“Uh-” Bela hesitated. She threw a brief glance over her shoulder at the club’s entrance. “Yep, sure. No problem.”

The parking lot beside the club was eerily vacant, considering how many people were packed into the heaving room. As they walked towards the only car there, a blue four wheel drive in the corner of the lot, Tanner dropped behind her, digging around his pockets for his keys.

Bela turned to the car, “Ok, where’s the latch-”

As Tanner’s hand clamped over her face she let out a startled shriek.

Bela’s thoughts filled with panic. She acted on instinct, struggling against his hold as Tanner’s other arm twisted around her waist, almost lifting her off the floor. Her fingers scrambled to find purchase, finally catching around his shirt, which she pulled sharply, trying to throw him off balance.

He grunted with effort, blocking her mouth to stifle her screams. “You don’t need to make this - urgh - any harder. Dormitum Dimittatur.”

Bela slumped in his arms.

- - - - -

As Hamish predicted, Randall was incredibly happy that he was taking Bela out to eat. He’d thrown his arms around Hamish’s neck and tipsily mumbled about how his best friends were falling in love for almost ten minutes, until Lillith had taken pity on the older man and peeled Randall off him, promising they’d all meet back at the Den in a few hours.

Hamish hurried out of the club, keen to find Bela and start their date, but she was nowhere to be found.

He frowned. It wasn’t like Bela to just up and leave without telling them. Even if she’d changed her mind about going out with him she would have just said - wouldn’t she?

After pacing in front of the club for a few moments he managed to pick up the faint scent of her perfume on the cold night breeze - sometimes being a werewolf was really useful. He followed the trail around the side of the building, frowning again when he reached the parking lot.

This doesn’t make sense, he thought, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. They’d walked to the club and none of them were in a state to drive anywhere tonight. Maybe the alcohol was throwing off his game. He pulled out his phone and dialed Bela’s number, silently thanking Tundra as his enhanced hearing picked up the sound of vibration.

As Hamish followed it to the edge of the lot, his breathing quickened and the unease grew into dread.

“Oh no,” he whispered, kneeling beside the glowing object.

It was Bela’s phone, lying face up in the gravel.

#the order #hamish duke #hamish duke x reader #hamish duke x oc #randall carpio #lillith bathory #the knights of saint christopher #werewolves #love bites

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mitigatedchaos · 3 years

Text

Review: SAC_2045

(~3,700 words, 15 minutes)

This post will contain some minor spoilers for SAC_2045.

Summary: You may have thought SAC_2045 was a poor entry in the Ghost in the Shell franchise - actually, it's just intended for younger audiences.

Previously: Standalone Complex 202045:1-4 (superseded)

-☆☆☆-

And what did you think of the remaining episodes of GitS:SAC_2045?

[ @irradiate-space ]

Standalone Complex

There's a certain indescribable feeling associated with Ghost in the Shell: Standalone Complex as a work, an artistic touch related to the director associated with it, independent of other considerations. SAC_2045 has it, which isn't too surprising since Kenji Kamiyama is back.

SAC_2045 is Standalone Complex. For a brief moment, while watching it, I inhabited my pre-2016 personality and outlook. I can't tell you how much that means to me. Since the arrival of streaming I've tended to bingewatch series, but on the first run-through I decided not to bingewatch this one.

If you approach this show as season 4 of Standalone Complex (Solid State Society being season 3), it's underwhelming. Now, viewing it again, it's become obvious that a conventional season 4 of Standalone Complex was never the intent of SAC_2045 to begin with.

For those of you who have delayed until now, the English dub has been uploaded - it released without one due to the pandemic. They bring back a number of the voice actors from the excellent Standalone Complex dub, though having already watched it with subtitles, I didn't feel the need to confirm the dub's quality.

Sustainable War

To properly describe a new theory of war is the same thing as to invent it. While the idea of war as a for-profit industry has been kicked around for some time, it's generally assumed that this is a kind of parasitic relationship on the part of the war-making industry.

As time goes on, warfare becomes more abstract (partly because warfare happens where it can happen), much like society itself is becoming more abstract as information moves more quickly and humanity gains access to more energy.[1] In SAC_2045, "Sustainable War" is part of the context of the world and its current issues, but we aren't really told how it works - if it's similar to contemporary information warfare and a blurring of the lines between state and non-state actors, it's bound to be quite confusing.

I believe my earlier assessment of "Sustainable War" is correct. The key feature of sustainable war, the reason they say it's safe if you leave it to the experts, is likely that it involves AIs constantly forecasting against each other and moving units around with few direct confrontations. The goal would be to lock in a victory without having to fire a shot, except for small skirmishes that don't escalate to major incidents (due to the AI forecasting).

The presence of armed separatist movements even in Japan may also indicate that the ruling institutional bodies are engaged in a kind of Post-International Politics,[2] which treats all international relations as fundamentally existing between subnational entities - however, I believe that later information suggests this wasn't their original intent.

What makes it "sustainable"? Since if done correctly, very little is actually physically destroyed, the cost is less than conventional warfare, and thus the war can continue indefinitely. Why does it threaten humanity with destruction? Because there's an awful lot of military hardware waiting for someone to actually pull the trigger.

Season 1: Ep. 2

So what is the intent of the series' creators? I think they may be telling us through this dialogue between Togusa and Section Chief Daisuke Aramaki in episode 2.

Aramaki: Seems time has toughened you up. Togusa: Is that supposed to be a compliment? Aramaki: It is if you want it to be. Togusa: Then thanks for the kind words. “I made the right decision by choosing this line of work over my marriage.” That’s what you’re saying? Aramaki: Perhaps. [...] Togusa: They're bringing back Section 9? [...] Aramaki: But my takeaway from the proposal is this: The PM's reason for the urgent reforming of Section 9 takes priority over his personal motives. I believe his true objective is meeting the Americans' demands for the dispatch of special resources. Togusa: So it's as the Liberals feared? An American-born Prime Minister would be no more than an American puppet? Aramaki: I've yet to meet him in person, so I can't really say. But this is an opportunity to have the Major and the rest of you undertake a major operation for me once more. Togusa: What sort of op? Aramaki: Over the past few years, I have searched for an answer on how to deal with a society in turmoil. I'd like you people to lay the groundwork that will help the next generation find that answer. Togusa: I don't know what a man in my position can contribute, but I'll humbly offer whatever assistance I can.

Those of us who cried, Kamiyama, tell us the future once more! based on Standalone Complex's prophetic analysis of a memetic crime wave were bound to be disappointed. SAC_2045 is less rooted in the near future than in the now - cyberbullying, endless war amidst historic prosperity, employment suppressed by automation, savings eaten up by the complex machinations of finance, and a breakdown of national borders? That's today.

Those of us who hoped for a Ghost in the Shell: Unicorn, a psychically overpowering work that synthesizes the full body of Ghost in the Shell into a single coherent form to elevate us to a higher level of understanding, should have tempered our expectations. To reach each new philosophical level is more difficult than the last - to achieve that with Ghost in the Shell of all things would have required a multidisciplinary genius near the limits of current understanding.

Kenji Kamiyama is just an anime director. And anyhow, Gundam Unicorn was a book before it was an animated series. And who among us even knew we'd have to write a book before 2015? Ghost in the Shell was well-understood enough, so I instead wrote 25,000 words worth of hypothetical country and became a blogger, like the infamous Scott Alexander.[3]

If we approach SAC_2045 from the lens that it's a humbler work designed for younger audiences, however, some of the creative decisions make more sense.

Purin

Just how old is Purin, the MIT grad who joins the team later on? If I had to guess, that's '23歳' on that profile she provides, and Ishikawa notes that she 'skipped a few grades' on her way to a PhD. But she acts like someone a lot younger. She's enthusiastic and we're assured she's intelligent, but seems to be lacking social training. For example, she makes the mistake of assembling an era-accurate music player for Batou combined with a playlist after consulting the Tachikomas to find out what he listens to. There are two ways to take this.

The first is that she's intended as a relateable character for someone who would make this class of mistake. It's the sort of mistake I might have made at age 13-14, meaning that the show would probably be aimed at someone that age or lower. Overly enthusiastic, doesn't understand romantic relationships, impulsive, poor reading of boundaries / poor modelling of others outside of certain domains, impulsive in a way that causes social screw-ups? Yeah that could certainly apply to an ADHD kid of about that age.

And all of a sudden the tone of the first five episodes with the gun-fighting, the literal Agent Smith, the decision to place the focus in America, and even the mystery of the series being much simpler than Standalone Complex 2nd Gig's plot regarding Asian refugees in Japan make a lot more sense. This is Ghost in the Shell for kids!

Wow, I didn't think that could be done!

...is what I should say, except that around the time I acquired the ability to futurist shitpost, and I used that ability to predict that it would.

Purin II

The second reading is that the youth of the future are fucked up. She probably has some tricked out modifications, both cybernetic and genetic. Now usually you would tell someone to try to become a well-rounded human being. But...

The global economy has crashed. Batou mistakes her for a robot - creatures that look like pretty young women are a dime a dozen. In the dating market, she would be competing with full sensory immersion VR pornography on the one hand, and at the upper end of society where cybernetics are more widely available, likely women with a similar appearance but decades more experience and professional standing.

Note that in the original Standalone Complex, the team take down an 80-year-old Russian spy with the full prosthetic body of a 20-year-old. Full cyborgs aren't common then, nor are they in SAC_2045 (though cyberbrains are ubiquitous), but if the economy recovers that may change, and the sector she's trying to get in to (full-time salaried government rather than marginal private employment it would seem) is going to be very tough to enter either way.

So Purin may have to be over-optimized even to just appear on the screen. In fact, she says,

"Just so I could work at Section 9, I moved most of my sentimental memories to external storage."

Youch! It's no wonder she's socially maladjusted. Just how much of her social learning (in particular key events necessary to rebuild logical inferences on the boundaries of behavior on the fly) has she locked away?

Purin III

But you know who Purin looks like? Notorious internet personality, Gamer Girl Bath Water seller, and IRL video game character Belle Delphine.[4]

Or rather, it's the other way around - 2D animation compresses real detail into suggestive abstraction, letting your mind fill in the rest. Going from those impossible 2D shapes to 3 dimensions creates strange results, like training your machine learning algorithm on the salient features of a cat's face, applying it to human shape, and putting pink hair on the result. Belle Delphine adopts that otherworldly kind of appearance as part of her act.

Technically, this a stylistic choice. Within the framework of SAC_2045, this is what "a 23-year-old female" looks like.

Purin is in fact so non-threatening that her big red coat obscures her figure. I'm gonna go with younger audience. Now if only I could remember what pronoun she uses.[5/☆]

Motoko

With a full prosthetic body, outward signs of human-like aging are almost an artistic expression, much like in a world with cheap tissue engineering, visible scars are a choice.

When she was first introduced in the original Ghost in the Shell manga, we don't know how old Motoko Kusanagi is. It was once said that her name is analogous to "Jane Excalibur," which in English would be an obvious alias. In the first movie (from 1995), she's cool, almost cold and robotic.

In the original Standalone Complex, Motoko has a more mature personality than in the manga, but she has a clearly adult look by the standards of anime. Seriously, check out this fantastic character design (combat suit), although admittedly the better-known "leather jacket and bathing suit" design is more ridiculous, fashion-wise.[6] (Fortunately, she gets pants in her much more stylish second season outfit.)

ARISE starts off with a young Motoko Kusanagi in a chaotic post-war period before the Section 9 we know was assembled. This shows in her character design, but it really shows in her personality. This was actually why I had joked about an even earlier Ghost in the Shell.

There is a sense in which the 2017 live-action movie's Motoko is even younger. Scarlett Johansson is a killer cyborg with amnesia. She doesn't even have one day of formal combat training.

Motoko 2045

Ilya Kuvshinov designed SAC_2045's Motoko Kusanagi.

Yes, that Ilya Kuvshinov. You could be forgiven for thinking this is a teenager that hardboiled assassins Saitou and Ishikawa in the background have been hired to bodyguard.

Despite this, Atsuko Tanaka has resumed her role as Motoko's voice actress. Standalone Complex's Motoko looked 25 and felt mid-30s. SAC_2045's Motoko looks 16 and has the voice and attitude of 40.

This may make more sense than you might think.

Through Whose Eyes?

Throughout much of Ghost in the Shell as a franchise, Togusa, the only non-cyborg on the team, who is pulled from a police department instead of a military background, tends to be character used to help the people of our time relate to the future. He's the guy that doesn't know the things we also don't know, so in explaining concepts to Togusa they're explained to the audience.

In SAC_2045, most of the team are off doing cool cyborg things in America. Aramaki (whose in-world function is to create the bureaucratic environment within which Section 9 operates) tasks Togusa with finding them. The original Standalone Complex first aired in 2003. It's been 17 years since it was created - a similar situation to finding someone that reached adulthood who was born after 9/11. And during this time, Togusa's life has changed - the family man is now separated from his wife. And the world has changed - Togusa is now working for a private security firm. Togusa's role in the first five episodes isn't to guide the new viewers.

His purpose is to guide or stand-in for the old viewers.

The New Viewers

"Do you still hold a grudge against the Major and the others for leaving you behind?"

For the original viewers, SAC_2045 is your world, too. Togusa is there. Togusa is you.

The new viewers are Purin. Enthusiastic and smart but awkward and not confident in their skills. How could they measure up to these much more talented and experienced characters? (Also consider who is going to watch any sort of Ghost in the Shell - it's probably going to be a moderately bright and introverted kid, who is the kind of person that may be more comfortable socializing with people outside of their age band.)

But Motoko is visually separated from the rest of Section 9. Batou, Saitou, Ishikawa, Boma... they all have a much more adult look in keeping with their appearance in previous versions of Ghost in the Shell. What gives?

Batou is sort of a cool adult male figure - this is actually a pretty natural use of the character and his sense of humor as previously established in other Ghost in the Shell properties. We especially see this come through in 「PIE IN THE SKY - First Bank Robbery」 episode, with the old folks and the 21st century bank robbery.

Motoko's difference in appearance is because she's acting as a bridge between the two. The new viewer (as represented by Purin) is supposed to grow into being like Motoko as they gain confidence and experience. (The characters aren't each limited to a single role, of course.)

But SAC_2045 is still a work that's shared between two groups, similar to how the excellent Into the Spiderverse features both the teenage Miles Morales and an older Peter Parker that has lost his way, with the loss of the vibrant young adult Peter Parker being what starts the plot going.

The Last Quarter

With this framework, the rest of the work should express its nature as targeted at a younger audience itself. Watch the last few episodes through this lens and you'll see how much sense it makes. One takes place at a school. Even the bizarre 3D style that resembles recent video games makes more sense. If we take Togusa's earlier conversation with Aramaki as a discussion of SAC_2045 itself, later on there's even a sort of acknowledgement that Ghost in the Shell is a difficult work for someone of a young age.

So with that context in mind, does it work?

Standalone Complex

If I remember correctly, years ago, when I was perhaps 15 or 16, I was watching a tiny CRT television some time after midnight, and I saw the thirteenth episode of the original Standalone Complex - NOT EQUAL. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. I was immediately taken by it. And, from what I remember, I immediately understood it.

It was as though it were made just for me.[7]

To me, Ghost in the Shell is like a textbook. I thought that as a creator who has reached a place where I am able to be involved in that kind of work, I'm in a position where I have to convey its contents to a younger audience. Well, I knew it would be a lot of work, but I figured it would be my way of giving back to Ghost in the Shell. I thought that I needed to accept the baton and offer Ghost in the Shell to a young audience, to the same degree that Ghost in the Shell raised me to be who I am.

- Tow Ubukata, in a 2015 interview, regarding ARISE

For many people, Ghost in the Shell is a profound influence. I felt that it lifted me to a new level of understanding.

SAC_2045

But what about SAC_2045?

I can't view Ghost in the Shell with new eyes. When I first saw it, I wasn't the kind of person that casually memes futuristic ethical dilemmas as a means of practicing politics.

Compared to the anime I watched back when I was 13, would I have watched SAC_2045? Yes. Is it more philosophically and politically sophisticated? Yes. Would I have found it memorable? I think so.

Would a 13-year these days watch it? That's difficult to assess. I bet someone who does data science for Netflix could tell us, if they wanted. I'm sure Kenji Kamiyama and Shinji Aramaki are considering the same thing.

2017

How does it stack up compared to the rest of the franchise?

For most enthusiasts it's going to be one of the weaker entries, though it certainly does a better job explaining itself than ARISE.

Compare it to 2017's live action movie, however, and I think we'll find it isn't the weakest. The reason is that the writers of Ghost in the Shell (2017) decided to tell a story about bodily consent in which becoming a cyborg is a form of trauma. On some level this may have been a reasonable decision, but they didn't commit to the concept sufficiently fully to execute it well enough to carry the movie - and simultaneously, they dumbed down parts of the regular Ghost in the Shell material for American audiences. As a result the movie flopped both financially and artistically - except for the visuals.

In fact, I wrote a sequence of posts (1, 2, 3, 4) on how to rewrite the live action movie as an actual Ghost in the Shell property. I feel no need to do so for SAC_2045 - and I can't even think of what changes would need to be made.

I look forward to the second season.

-☆☆☆-

[1] It's short, but that's a concept in this post. "Advanced by Left-Wing theorists, Ninth Generation warfare sees all acts as existing on a spectrum of political violence. Most acts of ninth generation warfare consist of extreme pranks."

[2] If we accept the idea of "Fifth-Generation Warfare" as motivated by a desire to prevent the enemy from using their conventional military assets, then a corresponding theory of international politics would involve preventing enemy factions within foreign governments from taking control of those governments' institutions - effectively treating all countries as in continuous level of conflict analogous to a soft civil war.

[3] There is a kind of technique to this, but in my case I substituted ADHD for raw IQ and conscientiousness, which is part of why my posts are so much shorter than, for instance, Moldbug's. In any case, technically, Scott's blog posts on the matter amount to roughly a mere 11,600 words, and the book of the black forest amounts to approximately 26,000 words (which I'm told is entertaining reading), but I'm sure if we go looking we can find an additional 15,000 words worth of worldbuilding from a man known for writing 16,000 word blog posts.

[4] Would it be more of a legal liability to sell regular water with GGBW branding, or actual GGBW that could prove to be a potential health hazard?

[5/☆] There's some future strand lurking beneath the surface here that I can't quite put into words; a culturally divergent moe meltdown where an appearance this ridiculous becomes normalized among some sub-population. To quote the Funko Pop Hatred post,

There are questions about the anatomy of anime people and their internal organs, and particularly about what sort of impact-dampening alien meta-material their softer bits are made out of, but at least homo sapiens gokuensis looks like it’s a branch off a similar starting hominid! Whatever transhuman engineering company was responsible for manufacturing the creatures in the typical harem anime has some weird ideas about human beings, but we’re clearly in their ancient lineage somewhere.

Under Late Safetyism, everyone is a declawed catgirl.

Anyhow, I don't want to alarm you, but I can't guarantee that this won't be the future somewhere. Both Purin and Belle Delphine resemble Xiaoice, "The AI Girlfriend Seducing China's Lonely Men." (2020)

[6] Motoko's ridiculous outfits are a major flex on the non-cyborgs, who aren't indifferent to ambient temperature and whose natural bodies may have unflattering features. Similarly wild fashions can exist in places like Second Life, a 3D digital platform with mostly user-uploaded content. Presumably they're also a flex on every Japanese salaryman who still has to dress like a normal guy.

[7] "It's as though it were made just for me" is also how I feel about the original game Mirror's Edge. Its follow-up, Catalyst, is also a personal favorite of mine.

#miti does media #longpost #flagpost #ghost in the shell #sac_2045 #standalone complex #review

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aseriesofunfortunatetexts · 4 years

Note

Frank/Beatrice, unrequited?

I couldn’t manage it exactly (I assume this was a request for the AU meme), because I don’t really see them as anything but a wonderful brotp, but I did produce something. Something that exceeds three sentences by... quite a bit. It’s 2000 words.

I put it on AO3 too, in case you’d prefer to read it there. Enjoy!

***

Ernest can move very silently - when he wants to, that is. Usually his modus operandi is to start talking while he is approaching you, let people know he’s coming to put them at ease even before letting his affable demeanor do the rest. It works surprisingly well, even with members of the VFD, who really ought to know better than to fall for that rather simple technique.

But tonight Ernest allows the music and chatter of the hotel ballroom to drown out the sound of his swift footsteps, which is why Frank only notices him when he appears behind Frank’s left shoulder, leaning in and speaking in his ear, just loud enough to be heard over all the noise; “She’s looking quite radiant this evening, isn’t she?”

Frank doesn’t jump, but that’s only due to his years of training, training that drilled into him the importance of not showing the sort of weakness you show when being outwardly startled by something. If they think they can surprise you and you’ll be alarmed by that, it gives your opponent the upper hand.

So Frank remains perfectly still and keeps his expression carefully blank while Ernest moves to stand by his side, where he can observe Frank better, making it easier for him to tailor his words for maximum effect if Frank shows even a modicum of emotion. He decides not to give his brother the pleasure tonight.

Now for an equally pressing issue; what the hell Ernest is talking about. Frank had been idly watching the crowd from his position at the edge of the bar, and while his eyes did have a tendency to land on a particular gentleman, that doesn’t warrant… oh. Ernest thinks he’s been looking at the man’s dance partner.

To be fair, out of the two of them, who wouldn’t be looking a Beatrice?

Frank almost smiles when he realizes the extent of his brother’s miscalculation. But only almost. He needs to decide how to respond, and the obvious choice is to confirm Ernest’s own suspicions to draw him off the scent and keep Frank’s secret carefully protected.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, keeping his tone neutral.

Ernest does what anyone would do and takes that denial as solid confirmation that he is correct. “You can’t take your eyes off her, Frank, and you’re not being subtle.”

That much is becoming obvious, and he’s lucky that Ernest is making false assumptions based on who would be more likely to be the center of anyone’s attention, otherwise Frank would be in trouble.

He still might be, he realizes, when Ernest raises his hand and calls out “Beatrice!” loud enough to be heard from the dancefloor.

Beatrice does look radiant tonight, in a deep red ballgown that sways along with her when she waltzes across the floor, and when she sharply turns her head in their direction, her dark curls bounce, a visually appealing sight. When she locates them, she immediately turns to her dance partner and whispers something in his ear. He kisses the back of her hand and lets her go. As she approaches the two brothers, her smile grows increasingly bright, even when she’s aiming it at Ernest.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” she says once she has reached them. “You throw quite the party.”

Frank allows himself a reaction, the hint of a smile, because he actually did a lot of the planning and he is a little bit proud of the results, but mostly it’s to keep up the charade.

As he hoped, Ernest sees the change in his expression and misinterprets it once more, and out of the corner of his eye Frank can see him beaming, practically shaking with excitement at what he thinks is a surefire way to gain a new advantage over his brother.

“My brother might be a bore most of the time, but he knows the theory behind casual human interaction and enjoyment at least,” Ernest says, “And sometimes that’s enough to plan a great party.”

Frank lets his face darken a little at the casual insult just to keep Ernest thinking he’s winning this game.

And he must be quite confident that he is, because he goes straight for the jugular next; “You look stunning tonight, Beatrice.” He turns to his brother. “Don’t you think so, Frank?”

God, he is so predictable. If he didn’t know any better, Frank would think it was all a clever double bluff of some sort, rather than a serious attempt to humiliate him and make him uncomfortable.

At least he knows how Ernest expect him to react – defensively - and he might as well give him the pleasure. “Quite,” he says, tilting his chin up a little to appear haughty.

Beatrice purses her lips to keep from smiling, and then immediately loses the struggle and grins anyway. “Such a charmer,” she teases.

Ernest laughs, delighted. The would-be puppet master, always so proud of his work, to the point where he doesn’t even think to stop and consider the validity of his theories once in a while.

“Would you care to dance, Frank?” Beatrice asks, and for a moment Frank just stares at her. He hasn’t had the time to consider what game Beatrice is currently playing, and it’s disturbing his equilibrium to a worrisome degree.

“Of course he would,” Ernest replies for him, voice laced with amusement, “He loves dancing.”

Frank hates dancing, and everybody knows it, Beatrice included, so it is extremely frustrating when she holds out her hand in invitation. Frank considers scowling and refusing, but then remembers that he’s supposed to be secretly, tragically in love with her, and takes her hand.

He knows how to dance, of course, they all learned the usual ballroom dances during their training. Frank happens to be quite good at it too, he just doesn’t enjoy dancing in public. Not like Beatrice, who is so eager that she’s constantly in danger of taking the lead from him.

As soon as Frank has his hand on her waist, she leans into him and whispers in his ear, “Is he watching?”

Frank smoothly twirls them around to the music, checking. “He is.”

Beatrice snorts, “He’s dumber than he looks,” she says, “We might as well take advantage?”

She’s right, so Frank pulls her closer to his body, much closer than is expected in a classic waltz. “He thinks it’s unrequited,” he tells her.

Beatrice chuckles, finally beginning to let Frank lead for real. “Should I play into that?”

“Would you be rude enough to look uncomfortable to be near me, if you thought I was in love with you and you didn’t return my feelings?” Frank asks.

“Of course not,” Beatrice replies, “I’m not a monster.”

“Then you should probably act like you’re politely playing along.”

“We should be cheek to cheek,” Beatrice announces. “Feel free to subtly smell my hair.”

He does so once they are turned around so Ernest can see the gesture. It smells nice, he distantly notes.

They keep dancing until the song starts to wind down, and which point Beatrice orders him, “dip me,” and Frank does as he’s told, carefully supporting her as she leans back in an elegant arch.

The music ends and scattered applause breaks out while the band takes the time to bow before starting the next song. Frank slowly becomes aware that a lot more eyes are on them than he’d expected, and his gut-reaction is to quickly let go of Beatrice and step back. It’s what he would do if he was secretly in love with her and didn’t want people to know, which is probably why Beatrice, always the actress, allows it.

“Should we get you a drink?” she asks breezily.

“Please.”

Ernest is standing right where they left him, at the bar, and he has apparently ordered drinks for them, because Larry is already putting down glasses when they approach. The waiter gives Frank a meaningful look, then reaches for the bottle of their most expensive scotch and pours him a double. Beatrice gets the same.

He sure that this is Larry’s attempt to help him keep up the act, he’s too observant to fall for it like Ernest is. Frank grabs the glass and knocks back the drink in a couple of mouthfuls, very aware of Ernest’s eyes still on him.

“Mind if I claim this next dance?” he asks Beatrice while smiling slyly at Frank.

Beatrice inclines her head gracefully. “Of course.”

Ernest holds out his arm and Beatrice accepts it, letting him lead her onto the floor without looking back at Frank. An excellent move on her part, Frank thinks.

He sees Bertrand coming, and even if he hadn’t, Bertrand is already talking as soon as he’s in earshot, “Good evening, Frank,” he greets pleasantly. “What was all that about?”

Frank sighs. “Ernest thinks I’m in love with your wife.”

Bertrand laughs, actually laughs. “Oh dear,” he eventually manages. “That’s tragic.”

“Very tragic,” Frank agrees, eyeing Bertrand warily. He isn’t entirely sure whether Bertrand knows yet, and he doesn’t want to show his cards too soon.

“To be fair, you were watching us quite intently,” Bertrand teases. “You can’t blame him for making some assumptions.”

“I suppose not.”

Bertrand smiles gently at him. “She looks beautiful tonight... -”

“She looks beautiful every night,” Frank points out.

Bertrand ignores him. “And I look very handsome in this tux,” he finishes.

At this point Frank desperately wants another drink, but he probably shouldn’t be clouding his judgement further. “That you do,” he admits instead, a giant leap of faith that he normally wouldn’t make, but Bertrand is still smiling and moving a little closer to him, sliding right into his personal space.

“Do I get a dance as well?” he asks, partially joking, partially outright flirtatious.

Frank swallows and tries to keep his expression neutral. “I don’t think that would be the best idea.”

Bertrand has the audacity to look disappointed before he looks understanding. “Keeping up appearances, as always.”

“Some of us has to,” Frank says.

For a moment Bertrand’s reaction borders on pity, but then a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Come with me,” he says, and starts walking away without looking back to check if Frank is following him.

Frank follows.

Bertrand leads them to the edge of the ballroom and ducks under the velvet rope stretched across the stairs leading to the rear mezzanine, which Ernest had decided to close off for the night, probably to avoid too many areas where people could linger, scan the crowd, and have secret conversations. Tonight is supposed to be about having fun after all.

There’s no light up here, so as long as they keep away from the edge, they’re hidden in shadow. That’s definitely the only reason why Frank allows Bertrand to place one hand on his hip, grab his hand with the other, and pull him flush up against him. Frank lets him lead them in a slow dance that doesn’t quite match the tempo of the song the band is playing below, but no one can see them anyway, no one will judge, so Frank follows without protest. Neither does he object when Bertrand gently leans into him until they’re cheek to cheek, or when Bertrand kisses him soon after.

It’s a bit unlike Bertrand to be so forward, Frank think, as he is pressed back against the wall, but he isn’t about to complain, not with Bertrand’s lips dragging down his neck, along his jaw, finally meeting Frank’s in another heated kiss. It’s nice. More than nice.

He sighs in disappointment when Bertrand breaks the kiss, vaguely noticing that this song is ending too. More applause from the crowd, and for a second Frank irrationally worries that someone has seen them.

“Don’t worry. We’re perfectly safe up here.” Bertrand whispers when he notices Frank tensing.

‘Until my nosy brother starts looking for us’, Frank thinks, but he doesn’t say anything, mostly because Bertrand is running his fingers through his hair now, digging his fingers into Frank’s scalp and guiding him into another kiss.

At some point Bertrand briefly lets up, only to murmur, “Hey, Frank?”

“Yes?”

He feels Bertrand smile against this cheek. “Happy birthday.”

#anon #asks #Frank Denouement #Ernest Denouement #Beatrice Baudelaire #Bertrand Baudelaire #my fic

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sourwolf-n-the-spaz · 4 years

Text

This is a little follow up to the post from the other day. I wanted to do more text messages, but the story didn’t fit right for it at this point, so I decided to do a written drabble and continue with the messages after -- I already have an idea of how to go on after this.

---------------

“Scotty. Scoottiiiieee,” he slurs, trying to give his friend a slight shake. ‘Trying’ being the operative word because ever since Scott become a werewolf, he’d acquired this weird sort of concentrated muscle mass thing or something — he’s heavy, more than he should be considering how much space he actually occupies. And Stiles is drunk. Correction, Stiles is wasted. Which is probably why he misses Scott’s shoulder entirely and ends up smacking him dead in the face instead.

Thankfully, Scott doesn’t bite off his hand in retaliation, preferring to let out a long garbled groan that Stiles barely makes out over the loud music and tilt to the other side of the questionable couch. Stiles is pretty sure he’d be more worried about that sticky substance coating the cushion he’s sitting on if he wasn’t so out of it himself. As it is, he can’t really amass the willpower to care — he already has to look after Scott and that single task uses up all of the brain capacity currently available to his disposal.

He glances over the hordes of people congregating on the dancefloor, squinting to see if he catches sight of the girl he’d left Scott with before — back when he thought his friend had just lucked out and considered ‘mission find Scott a rebound’ a whooping success.

He doesn’t really remember her face, but he knows that she was blond and flirty, and she was wearing red leather pants. Normally that kind of thing would jump out to the eye, but this club had a worrying amount of people involved in the single goal of embodying the matrix’s cast wardrobe. So, no dice.

He leans back to avoid the guy who almost spills his entire cup of beer on him, avoiding most of the spillage but still getting some on his pants -- those are going directly into the wash when he gets home -- and looks back at Scott. Who is currently doing his best to become one with the couch. And drooling.

He hopes Derek wasn’t lying about being here in ten, if something really is wrong and it turns out they walked right into the lion’s — hunter’s? — den, Stiles wouldn't last thirteen seconds on his own. Normally he’d give himself at least a minute, two if he’s feeling lucky, but the alcohol in his blood is making his brain to limbs coordination even more shoddy than usual. He’s the brains of the operation, he needs Scott for the brawn part.

It’s when he’s contemplating the consequences of actually calling his dad for help and risk being grounded for over a month that they show up. He doesn’t notice her at first because she pulled her hair up into a bun, and he’s pretty sure she was also wearing a different top before, but she’s not alone.

There are two guys trailing after her, the kind that could give the bouncers of this place a run for their money, and they’re heading straight for them. They should probably get gone like, yesterday.

Stiles stumbles his way up from the couch and tries to lift Scott from his melted starfish sprawl so he can drag him away, which is easier said than done. He manages to get Scott on his own two feet, swinging his arm around his own neck and carrying the brunt of his weight on his shoulders.

He maneuvers them through the moving throng of bodies on the dancefloor, hoping that the chaos is enough of a distraction to shake their tail. He almost takes a nosedive to the floor when Scott crosses his feet and gets in the way, but he crashes against someone’s back and is able to stay upright. There are some insults thrown his way for it, but the music just hit a particularly dubsteppy verse, so it’s not like he can hear them anyway. And he has more important and time sensitive things to do than apologize for stepping on someone’s toes, like escape the possibly murderous hunters who’ve poisoned his best friend.

He continues pushing his way through the crowd, guiding Scott through a zig zagged line to the other side of the room. He remembers seeing one of the club’s security people posted in that direction, close to the cloakroom, so that’s probably the safest place for them to be right now. Until Derek gets here, that is. Derek who definitely said to give him a warning if people showed up for Scott. He totally forgot. In his defense though, texting Derek would take up more time than he could spare at the moment.

He spots the security guard he was looking for and thinks he might actually be home free for about two point zero four seconds before a hand snakes around his neck and hauls him back by the hood of his sweatshirt.

He loses his hold on Scott, who is also wrenched away from him, and finds himself being dragged off to the side and shoved through an open door. Scott is flung right after, crashing into him, and they both drop to the floor.

They go down like a human-werewolf knot game gone wrong and Scott’s elbow finds a way to whack him right on the stomach, knocking the breath from his lungs. Must be karma working its avengeful ways for earlier.

He barely manages to roll out from under Scott when hands are grabbing harshly at shoulders again, yanking him up and forwards. He careens into the wall ahead, experiencing the terrible feeling of having the room spin violently in his head.

There’s the sound of a heavy door opening next to him -- the back door, they’re taking them outside, not good -- and then he’s being forced to move again. This time, when he falls on the cold hard tarmac outside, they don’t bother hauling him up again. Scott is dropped next to him unceremoniously, and Stiles spares a grimace at the way he lands on his arm. He's pretty sure he heard a crack.

He looks up, finally getting a good look of their captors. There’s the girl from before, who decidedly does not look as blond or as nice she previously did, and her two goonies, both sporting some curious looking bulges in their pants that Stiles is pretty sure are not of the happy variety. His suspicions are confirmed three seconds later when they both pull out their handguns.

How in the hell did they even manage to get those things inside the club? He is so gonna write a one-star review about this place as soon as he gets internet access and a functional computer.

“Where’s the rest of your pack?” not-so-blond biker barbie barks at them, sporting the stink-eye of the century.

He has enough perception to think, Don’t give up werewolf secrets to the scary girl in leather pants, Stiles, and lets his mouth run before his brain has time to catch up.

“Sorry, I don’t smoke,” he says intelligently, earning a sneer from the trio. In his defense, he’s too drunk to be held accountable for anything he says.

“You really want to play stupid when I’ve got two guns trained on your mutt?”

“That’s a very good point. Taken, deliberated, sustained. As you were,” he deflects, fidgeting nervously when one of the goons switches aim and trains his gun on him instead.

“You might want to reconsider what you say to us. Your buddy here might be able to heal a bullet as one would a scratch, once the wolfsbane wears off, but something tells me you won’t fare as well if I put a hole through your stomach. Care to test that theory?”

Stiles swallows, “Nope, I’m good thanks.”

“Glad we’ve reached an understanding. Now, how many are there?”

“Huhh, fifteen -- no, twenty,” he mumbles, fiddling with the club’s wristband, “there are definitely twenty smokes in a pack of cigarettes.”

The girl lets out a groan of frustration, yanks one of the guns out from the hands of her thug and charges towards him. He scrambles back, wincing when he feels a shard of broken glass dig into the palm of his hand – right, back of a nightclub, there’s probably a lot of broken bottles around – but is unable to do much as she ceases the front of his hoodie and hauls him up, placing the muzzle under his chin. He gulps, feeling the metal of the barrel pressing against his throat.

“I’m losing my patience with you. I might just skip the gut shot entirely and put one directly in your mouth. What do you think?” she asks, mock-curiosity thick in her voice.

“I think that would be very counter-productive towards getting me to talk?” he offers back, unable to control the nervousness that seeps into his voice. Let it not be said that Stiles Stilinski wasn’t a little shit ‘til the very end, though.

The girl smiles, a twisted sneering turn of the mouth, really, and is about to say something undoubtedly terrifying and death-threatening when a deep howl rips through the air.

Oh thank God.

Judging by the volume of the sound and the way the pebbles and glass shards tremble on the ground, Derek is close. Which is also a conclusion his trio of captors have arrived at, evidenced by the worried looks they’re now exchanging.

“Want to know how many there are? Fine, I’ll tell you. Ten. There are ten of them, and that’s not even counting our alpha,” he says, lying through his teeth and hoping the urgency in his voice combined with their growing concern is enough to sway their minds. “Do the math, that’s three of them for each of you. You really think those odds are in your favor?”

“Brie, we can’t take on the alpha,” the goon in the navy-blue shirt says, uncertainty coloring his tone. “Larry said—”

“I know what Larry said,” the girl – Brie, thanks for that lovely piece of information goon no1, now he’ll know who to stalk – snaps, turning her head to glare at him. “Fine. Put one in the beta’s head and we’re out of here.”

Turns out adrenaline is a good head-clearer. Truth is, Stiles barely registers moving until he’s shoved Brie away, catching her by surprise enough to dislodge the gun from under his chin, and diving for Scott. Luckily, Derek picks that moment to show up as well, which is probably why the hunters make the very intelligent decision to ditch and run rather than kill them and earn themselves a very angry alpha in pursuit.

They retreat back into the club as Derek catches up to him, eyes flashing red with fangs and sideburns proudly on display.

“Scott?” he asks, skidding to a stop next Stiles and glancing at the aforementioned, still very intoxicated, werewolf.

“He’s fine, or will be anyway.” He’s pretty sure he heard Brie talking about the wolfsbane wearing off, so they must have dosed him with the normal purple strand. “Go after them.”

Derek doesn’t need to be told twice, he’s disappearing inside the club even before Stiles finishes the sentence. He hopes the alpha at least had the forethought to tone down on the sideburns -- it’s not exactly close to Halloween, people might not take too kindly to having an outright werewolf shoved in their faces.

He drags Scott over to the wall and props him up against it before sitting down and leaning back on it himself. He takes in a long breath and lets his head thump on the bricks.

“Stiles?” Scott mumbles from next to him.

“I’m here, Scotty,” he sighs. “I’m here.”

It’s doesn't take long until Derek’s storming back out of the club, his presence and the heavy frown on his face allowing him to make the obvious assumption that the hunters got away.

“No luck?”

“Do you have any idea what nightclubs are like? Too many scents, too many sounds, they’re impossible to track,” he growls, turning the force of his million-volt glare to him. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Huh, about?”

“Coming here!” he snaps, eyes flashing.

“I was thinking we need a break! Come one dude, even you have seen how hard Scott is moping around lately, I needed to get his mind off Allison.”

“So, you decided the best way to do that was to bring him here—” he points an angry thump back at nightclub—" for a late-night hook-up, out of pack territory, and straight into the hunters’ arms?”

“Well, it’s not like I knew there’d be hunters!”

Derek sets his jaw and glares him into silence. Had it been a year ago Stiles would currently be having major concerns about his continued safety and well-being. Now though, he’s (mostly) sure Derek won’t actually do anything to him, no matter how much he pisses him off. He did come all the way out here at four in the morning to rescue their asses, right? He totally cares.

Derek’s nose twitches then, and his eyes run a cursive look over his and Scott’s bodies before settling back on him with a renewed anger.

“Why is there blood?”

“What?”

Apparently Derek is short on patience because next thing he knows he’s being manhandled into an upright position and receiving a full-body search.

“Wow, wow, wow. Calm down, grumpywolf. I just cut myself on some glass,” he explains, lifting his hand to showcase the small gash, no more than a scratch, really. There is a slow trickle of blood running down his palm, and it stings a little, but he‘s more worried about catching an infection from the dirty glass than at the actual wound itself. Derek must have caught the scent of it.

“Can you go two seconds without somehow endangering or injuring yourself?”

“Probably?” He totally doesn’t mean that to sound like a question. He blames the alcohol.

Derek rolls his eyes so hard it looks like it physically hurts and lets go of his arm with a huff. Stiles wipes the the blood on his pants, making a mental note to scrub them with hydrogen peroxide – the things one learns when regularly associating with werewolves – before putting them in the wash.

Derek sidesteps and leans down to grab onto Scott’s arms, heaving him up and supporting him by placing his arm around his neck just like Stiles had done before. Scott mumbles out something unintelligible to Stiles – not to Derek though, going by the distinct sour look his face adopts – and sags against the alpha.

“Come on,” Derek says, starting to head down the alley.

“Huh, what about the car?” Stiles asks, fumbling to catch up.

“Leave it. Scott, can come back for it tomorrow.”

“What if we get a ticket?”

Derek stops and turns to shoot him the glare of deathTM, judgmental eyebrows and all.

“Right, shutting up now,” he promises, making a lip zipping motion and swaying slightly on his feet from a momentarily alcohol induced loss of balance.

Derek glares at him for a second more. “If you hurl on the Camaro, I’ll toss you in the street.”

#sterek #eternalsterek #sterek drabble #drunk!stiles #sterek ficlet #stiles x derek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #my drabble #text convo verse #whump #tw: alcohol #tw: gun #Derek to the rescue

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

Text

A Change in the Weather AU (inspired by Cacophonylights's A Change in the Weather) - Chapter 34

Notes: So, here's the second half of that chapter that I promised! In Cacophony's author's notes, she mentioned liking the book 'Good Omens'. And since it's one of my favorites, I put a nod to it in here. If you can find it, you'll win my respect :D There’s only one more chapter left, so if you could be so kind as to spread this around, I would really appreciate it <3

Read on AO3.Kurt trails behind Blaine up the long staircase that leads to the second story of his house - and his bedroom - at a safe distance, traveling a path he knows so well he could walk it with his eyes closed. Kurt used to race up these stairs, full of excitement, knowing Blaine was at the top waiting for him with hugs and kisses. Blaine’s touch always made Kurt feel at home here even when the rest of the Andersons were stand-offish and seemed irritated by his presence.

Kurt keeps his eyes trained one step ahead as he makes his way up the staircase. He can’t look at Blaine. He doesn’t feel like he knows him anymore, which is the strangest feeling of all.

Kurt had refused to go up the staircase first. He didn’t want Blaine looking at him.

He didn’t want Blaine admiring him, as conceited as that sounds.

Blaine doesn’t have permission. Kurt doesn’t belong with him anymore.

They get to the top step and turn right. Halfway down the hall is Blaine’s room. They reach it in twenty paces and Blaine opens the door.

“Come on in,” he says without turning around. He crosses the room, switches on a desk lamp. Soft, white light hits Blaine’s face and he looks tired. Worn down and tired, his curls a disheveled mess atop his head, like he’s been running his fingers through them incessantly, maybe even tugging at a few. He drops down on the edge of his bed, still freshly made from the morning he left. Kurt helped him make that bed, right before Blaine’s parents drove him to the airport and out of Kurt’s life for the summer.

Kurt wishes Blaine had had the dignity to stay in San Francisco till August. What the fuck did he think he was going to accomplish by coming home? Isn’t he risking his spot at his music camp by leaving? Did he request time off?

Or is there something else tangled up in this?

Is there a chance they kicked him out?

Kurt can dislike Blaine all he wants over his cheating, but he’s a talented musician. Too talented for any music program to kick him to the curb.

No. Blaine came home to see Kurt.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Do you want to sit down?” Blaine asks, having the nerve to pat the space right beside him.

Kurt doesn’t answer. He stands off to the side between Blaine and the door, arms crossed over his chest, not even removing his coat.

Sebastian’s coat, actually.

He’s making his intentions clear. He’s not about to stay for any longer than necessary.

He’s going to get his answers from Blaine, and then he’s going to go.

“Explain yourself,” Kurt says, snappier than he was going for, but his body is done keeping calm about this.

“Wh-what … what do you mean?” Blaine looks up at him, hazel eyes pleading, hands folded in his lap, back bowed as if this is all too much for him to bear.

“You know exactly what I mean!” Kurt originally thought he was going to be more patient than this, but the patience he had built up is wearing thin. He’d even worried that driving Blaine home, then following him up to his room, would soften his heart to him, bring old memories rushing back, make what Blaine did seem forgivable – a lesser offense. No, he wouldn’t kiss him or sleep with him, and not just because Blaine cheated – BLAINE CHEATED! But because Kurt has something in his life so much more wonderful now that he holds dear, and there’s no way in heaven or on earth that he would jeopardize it for the fairytale Disney prince that was Blaine Devon Anderson.

“I … I don’t want to hurt you,” Blaine says.

“Too late, because you’ve already done that!”

Blaine nods, eyes drifting to his folded hands. “If I … if I explain, if I tell you everything, would you consider taking me back?”

Kurt’s throat goes dry, a simmering rage rising in the form of red splotches on his cheeks. “You do realize I have a boyfriend now, right? I mean, I’m sure Cooper told you. He can’t seem to keep his mouth shut about things like that.”

Blaine’s eyes close, his brow pinching. Kurt should feel Blaine’s pain tug at him, every wrinkle furrowing his brow should pluck at his heartstrings and make his chest ache. He remembers a time when nothing hurt quite like watching Blaine cry. Not even his own world falling to pieces. But there is no tug. There is no ache. “You can’t … you can’t be serious. I thought you were just dating Sebastian to hurt me!”

“It’s not all about you, Blaine!” Kurt snaps. “I’m dating Sebastian because I like Sebastian. In fact, I love Sebastian and he loves me! So no, I have no intention of breaking up with him to go back to you, a boy who broke up with me for the summer and then slept with someone else after just NINE DAYS! And when you did, when I felt like my life was over, when I felt like I was going to die, do you know who was there for me!? Sebastian! So you’re going to sit there and explain to me what you did and why you did it because it’s the decent thing to do! No other reason!”

Blaine’s eyes open again, moisture clinging to his lashes, but he doesn’t say a word. Why did Kurt think this would work? That he might get some answers? And that it might be easy? This innocent schoolboy act of Blaine’s that Sebastian had said he found so hot really rubs the nerves raw after a while, Kurt has discovered. How did he not see it before?

Because he was in love. That’s the answer. So very much in love with Blaine that the feeling overwhelmed him. It felt like a dream come true when the two of them met on that staircase at Dalton, like the answer to prayers he’d never admit to praying.

“You know …” Kurt decides to start since Blaine is leaving him no other choice. He focuses in on something that happened at the beginning of all this that has bothered him since day one “… I always wondered, the day you left, when you drove away, you had this look in your eyes. I couldn’t explain it at the time, but it’s haunted me.” Kurt watches Blaine’s reaction to those words as they land, sink in. His back bows further, his head sinks deeper – a confirmation that the theories Kurt had been entertaining all summer were true. His eyes narrow with repressed anger. “You knew, didn’t you? Before you left, you knew you were going to hook-up with someone? This wasn’t a ‘let’s do a trial separation and see what happens’. You had a plan!”

“I didn’t!” Blaine says, meeting Kurt’s eyes. “There … there was a guy, I’ll admit it, but I didn’t break up with you to be with him! I swear!”

“But you were going there to meet someone, weren’t you? Someone you’d already met?”

“Kind of?” Blaine sighs. “Yes. I … I met him on the camp’s Facebook page. He was … cute. And flirty. I was interested in him. But that’s it. I wasn’t planning anything.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Kurt feels an uncomfortable heat building beneath his collar. “What we had was love, Blaine! Love! It’s supposed to mean everything! It’s not the kind of thing you dump because some other guy is cute and flirty and pick up again when it’s convenient! That’s not how it works!”

“I know!” Blaine says louder than he expected because he clears his voice and repeats in a softer one, “I know.”

“We talked about spending the rest of our lives together, and you threw that away for some guy on Facebook you thought looked ‘interesting’! And it only took you NINE DAYS!”

“I’m sorry, Kurt! I am so so sorry! I really am!”

“At the very least you could have told me the truth from the beginning instead of leading me to believe we were going to get back together when the summer was done!”

“But I wanted to get back together with you!” Blaine implores. “I didn’t want this break up to be permanent! That life we talked about, living together in New York and all our plans – I wanted that to happen! I still want it! More than anything!”

Kurt shakes his head, trying to rectify the idea that Blaine thought he would ever be okay with getting back together if he slept with someone else, especially under the circumstances in which they left, even if they had broken up. How did he honestly think Kurt would ever …?

Kurt stumbles back a step when it hits him. The answer is so simple, Kurt is surprised he didn’t figure it out sooner.

God! Why did he have to be so damned naïve all the good Goddammed time? He thought he was such a smart guy, so savvy.

But when it comes to Blaine, he’s a complete idiot.

“You had no intention of telling me about your little friend, did you?”

“Wh-what?” Blaine pretends not to understand, stalling to buy more time, but Kurt gets it. He doesn’t need Blaine to tell him to know it’s true.

“You were going to come back here, pretend everything was fine, pick up where you left off, and never tell me a thing, weren’t you!?”

“No, Kurt! I …”

“Were you going to get an STD test at least before you fucked me again?”

“Well … wh-what about you?” Blaine deflects, losing his patience.

“What about me? I didn’t cheat on you!”

“Oh really?” Blaine wipes tears from beneath red-rimmed eyes with his fingertips. “I saw the pictures on Facebook, Kurt! From what I hear, you were dating Sebastian pretty much from the moment I left!”

So it appears Cooper did tell him some things (even though he’d promised Julian he wouldn’t) but he didn’t tell him everything? Was he preparing Blaine for what he might see? Then why not tell him everything? What did it matter what he promised Julian, if Blaine was threatening to hitchhike across the country? Did he still want Kurt to have the chance to tell him?

Or did he explain, and Blaine chose not to listen?

Whichever one it was, that’s Cooper Anderson for ya - helping from the bottom of his heart in the worst way possible.

“For your information, we were fake dating!” Kurt explains.

“Fake dating!?” Blaine repeats with an incredulous laugh. “What the heck does that mean?”

“It means that he was paying me to pretend to be his boyfriend! To get his parents off his back about … stuff!” Kurt refuses to go into any more detail than that. Blaine is the last person who deserves to know. But a spark ignites in Blaine’s eyes at Kurt’s admission, as if he’s found an opening. As if he still has a chance. Kurt rushes to stomp that spark out before it turns into a full-fledged fire. “But that changed. It became real! And I’m happy now. Happy with him!”

“I know I was with someone! I know! I know I hurt you and I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for it to happen but it did! I had every intention of coming back to you, Kurt! Of moving to New York with you, of living happily ever after with you! But I didn’t ruin that, Kurt! You did! You did because what you did was way worse!”

Kurt stares at Blaine like he’s gone insane. “What!? What did I do that was way worse?”

“You fell in love! And with Sebastian Smythe!? You hate him, and if memory serves, he hates you, too!”

Kurt jerks back, the words Blaine hurled at him like hands against his chest shoving him. They carry with them so much past pain, so much humiliation, so many insults and schemes and conspiring, all against him. But they don’t make him back down because if Sebastian has proved anything to Kurt it’s that people can change.

Sebastian has changed.

Sadly, so has Blaine.

“This was your bright idea! You were the one who said that if we could survive the summer broken up and still wanted to be together, we’d get back together. If not, if we decided we’re better off apart, then we’d go our separate ways. Did that only apply to you and not me? You made up all these rules that only applied to you when there were two of us in that relationship! You wanted to be broken up, so we broke up! You wanted to sleep with someone, so you slept with him! Now you want to get back together, and I’m supposed to dump a boy I care very much about to go back to you, just because it’s what you want!?”

Kurt wants to go on and ask him, ‘Did you think of me at all when he kissed you? When you were fucking him or he was fucking you, did you almost say my name? Was my smell still on your clothes, or did you make sure to wash them twice before you packed them so it was gone completely?’ But none of that matters anymore.

Kurt is sorry it ever did.

“I knew this was going to happen,” Blaine mutters, shaking his head. “I knew that if he found out I was gone …”

Kurt catches that, and more cogs of this story start fitting into place and turning.

“What does that mean?” Kurt asks. “Did he … did Sebastian say something? Is that why you stopped talking to him on Facebook? Is that why you didn’t tell him that you were leaving for the summer? Because you thought he’d run to Lima and hit on me? And you didn’t trust me to say no?” Kurt’s hands fly to his face, covering his mouth, appalled at the words preparing to race off his tongue before he has a chance to say them. “Oh, but you can go off to San Francisco to meet up with some guy, even break up with me to do it, but I don’t get a chance at spending the summer with someone who maybe likes me!?”

Blaine doesn’t confirm nor deny, just stares off into space as if every word out of Kurt’s mouth is cruel and unfair, tearing him apart for no reason that he deserves.

And Kurt has had enough of this. He’s had enough of the self-pity. Enough of the emotional manipulation. Enough of the distrust.

He’s just plain had enough.

“Look, Blaine …” Kurt puts his hands over his face, breathes into his palms until his calm returns, then drops them to his sides “… we loved each other so much. But we’re so young, so immature, made so many bad choices …” He says that word we, we, we over and over even though he doesn’t entirely mean it. But deep down, there’s a part of Kurt that’s culpable. He let Blaine make that decision instead of taking ownership of his own feelings. He let Blaine command the conversation when he had so much more to say. Blaine controlled how they communicated, even with their mutual friends, but Kurt went along with it. The best he can do now is try to leave the hurt feelings in the past and let it go - not necessarily for Blaine. Not to make Blaine feel better. But so that Kurt can walk away with his head held high, into a future that he deserves … with someone he loves. “Let’s just … remember that and part as friends. Like you said. No mess. Just good friends.” Blaine drops his head and looks off to the side, turning his back on the conversation. It’s a signal to Kurt. Whatever he wanted to accomplish here, he’s done. "Maybe we weren’t meant to be together, but that’s not a horrible thing. It’s not going to … not going to kill us.”

Ironic, since that’s how Kurt felt for the first month Blaine was gone, but now he sees how ludicrous that was. He’s young. They’re both young. And this, too, shall pass.

Kurt waits for Blaine to speak - to agree, to argue, to try and win him back, to sing - but he says nothing. He stares at a far wall – a wall with pictures of Blaine and the Warblers and his family … and Kurt smiling back at him, putting Kurt’s words together. Or maybe shoving them away.

Kurt puts a hand to his aching forehead. Too much drama and too little sleep, bouncing around in his brain like sheep wearing stiletto heels. He doesn’t need this. What he does need - or correction, who he needs - is driving back to Westerville this very moment.

And Kurt wants to be with him right now, more than anything.

Why did he offer to drive Blaine home again? It’s getting harder to remember with every minute that rolls by.

Kurt looks at the boy in front of him - the boy he pined over; the boy he obsessed over; the boy he loved, for a while, more than he loved himself. But that’s over. He has someone else in his life that he needs to return to.

"Relationships are about trust,” Kurt says quietly. “And I don’t trust you anymore. Goodbye, Blaine.” He doesn’t reach a hand out to hold him, to hug him, to give him any comfort. That’s not what their 'relationship' is anymore. Even if they manage to become friends again in the future, even if Kurt finds some way to trust him, it probably won’t be about physical contact for a long, long time. That’s heartbreaking since Blaine has been the one he’s reached for when times were tough since the day they met.

Now, he has a new hand to hold, one just as sure and steady as Blaine’s used to be.

Kurt walks toward Blaine’s bedroom door when he hears his voice, shaking with fury, maybe some embarrassment, and thick with tears, talking to his back.

“Wh--what do you expect me to do now?”

Kurt stops a foot from the doorway, itching to leave. “I expect you to grow up. I expect you to learn from this. I expect you to accept that we’re over. And maybe, in time, we might go back to being friends again.”

“No.” Blaine sniffles through gritted teeth. “I … am never … going to forgive you for this, Kurt. Never.”

There’s a harsh sound in Blaine’s voice, one Kurt had only heard once before - when Blaine fought off Dave Karofsky in the halls of McKinley on the night they went to watch the New Directions perform.

When he fought Dave off to defend him.

Now that anger is directed at him, and it makes Kurt’s blood run cold. Not out of fear. In anger. In disbelief. It zaps any sympathy he might have had for Blaine straight from his body.

So much for not ending badly, Kurt thinks, remembering what Blaine said to him when he first told him about his asinine break-up plan.

“Good,” Kurt says, stepping out into the hallway, more than ready to go, the relief he gets from that one action telling him it’s the right one. “Now you know how I’ve felt most of this summer.”

***

Kurt half expects Blaine to follow him down the hallway to the stairs when he leaves his room, begging him to change his mind, but he’s relieved when he doesn’t. He doesn’t want another discussion like the one they just had. In fact, he never wants to have another discussion like that with anyone. He doesn’t need that kind of negativity in his life.

He prays that they can hop back into Sebastian’s Mustang and drive back to the beach as soon as possible. He needs the sea air and the warm sand on his skin scrubbing him clean again.

The house is eerily quiet as he make his way to the staircase, only the ticking of a grandfather clock on the opposite end making any noise. The Anderson house has never been particularly festive or warm before, but it’s never felt like this - like he’s the only person there.

Where are Blaine’s parents? he thinks as he hurries down the stairs. Do they even know that Blaine is home? Kurt gets an answer five steps from the front door. He speed walks across the foyer, nearly lunging for the doorknob, when a voice stops him.

“So does this mean you’re finally gone for good?”

That voice puts a chill in him, but more for the words that it says than its tone, which is sinister all its own. “Mr. Anderson?” Kurt turns to look at the man standing on the staircase behind him. “Wh-what does that mean?”

“It means that I was never happy with Blaine dating you,” Blaine’s father says, taking one step at a time down the staircase while he talks. “You’d have to be an idiot not to realize that.” He strikes Kurt in this moment like a superhero movie villain, expositing his master plan with the staircase as his prop. Kurt almost laughs out loud at that image, all the tension the night has heaped on him making this little performance of his surreal. How did he not notice that the Anderson family is full of drama queens? Tunnel vision, he supposes. “I mean, it took me a while to accept my son’s orientation and whatnot. His mother coddles him in that regard. I fought to fix it, but there was little I could do.”

Kurt bristles at the word fix. Regardless of the bullshit that went down between him and Blaine this summer, he feels sorry for him if that’s the way his father sees him. As broken. “I don’t understand. You’re not making any sense.”

“I send him to the most exclusive private school money can buy, and still, among hundreds of boys from renowned families, he ends up dating you – a mechanic’s son.” Kurt notices right away how Mr. Anderson says it, with a heaping dose of contempt - so different from the way Greg talks about his father’s profession. “The idea of you became more palatable when your father was elected to congress, but not by much.”

Kurt’s face scrunches as if he just ate something sour, then bit his tongue to boot. Kurt has been called a great many insulting names, and by people he’s respected more. But this one might take the cake. “Palatable?”

“You come from nothing,” Mr. Anderson spits, stopping at the halfway point. He leans a hip against the banister, planting himself there as if he doesn’t want to come any closer. “You have no money, no pedigree ...”

Pedigree? What am I? A horse? Kurt crosses his arms over his chest. Sebastian had told him, hadn’t he? Money, status, family tree - these things matter to the Andersons.

They don’t matter so much to the Smythes.

“And that’s important because …?”

Mr. Anderson clicks his tongue hard against the roof of his mouth. “The fact that you have to ask that question shows why it’s important! You don’t come from the same background as my Blaine, the same breeding! He’s too good for you! But the only person who couldn’t see it was him!”

“Is that so?” It’s a lame comeback, Kurt will admit, but at this point, he can’t hear himself think, his ears burning so hot they’re whistling like a tea kettle. Whether Mr. Anderson knows it or not, he’s hit on the only thing he could say that could hurt Kurt.

He isn’t good enough for Blaine.

Blaine is too good for him.

Because Kurt felt that way in the beginning, thought everybody felt that way every time they looked at him.

Kurt’s breath hitches.

Didn’t Sebastian say that exact same thing to him at The Lima Bean about a dozen lifetimes ago?

“That’s so,” Mr. Anderson repeats, mimicking Kurt’s delivery. “It cost a pretty penny to send Blaine to that camp in San Francisco. He got in on natural talent,” he says smugly, “but I was willing to donate tens of thousands if he didn’t to ensure him a spot and get him away from you. If he insists on being a homosexual, at least he can be more discerning about his options. So I found him a place with better options.”

“I think we’re done here,” Kurt says, turning on his heel and resuming his walk to the door. He has to get away from this man and this house. There are some very expensive statuettes and vases on pedestals by the door.

Kurt doesn’t want to accidentally start throwing any of them.

“I hear you’re going out with the youngest Smythe boy,” Mr. Anderson tosses at Kurt’s back.

Another chill races down Kurt’s spine. How in the fuck would Mr. Anderson know that? Except, considering what Sebastian has explained about the circles his family and the Andersons run in, it would probably be weirder if he didn’t know by now. At the gala, the news that Gregory and Charlotte Smythe’s youngest son was dating a congressman’s kid made quite the buzz. Though Kurt can’t help wondering if Cooper told him, threw Kurt and Sebastian under the bus to distract his father from any possible news of him and Julian. If that’s the case, Kurt will forgive him.

For Julian’s sake.

And just this once.

“Have you now?” Kurt asks, turning back to face him. He refuses to have the man talk to his back. If he’s going to insult him, his lifestyle, his boyfriend, he has to do it looking Kurt in the eyes.

This way Kurt remembers how much to hate the man.

Mr. Anderson tsks. “He’s just as vulgar and classless as his brother. The two of you belong together.”

“You know,” Kurt says with a superior chuckle, one that he knows is going to burrow underneath Blaine’s father’s skin and irritate the shit out of him, “that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“I just need to find a way to keep Cooper away from that Julian for good, and the Anderson family will be back on track.”

“You see, you just said the wrong thing to the wrong person,” Kurt says. “Because now I’m going to make it my life’s mission to ensure that Julian and Cooper live a long, happy life together, whether you approve of it or not. Good day, Mr. Anderson.” Kurt turns on his heel for the final time, muttering asshole under his breath, and strides confidently out the door.

***

To Sebastian (11:41 a.m.): Well that went down like a lead balloon.

To Kurt (11:42 a.m.): That bad, huh?

To Sebastian (11:43 a.m.): Yup. Just to let you know, I’m leaving Blaine’s house now.

To Kurt (11:44 a.m.): Really? That was quick.

To Sebastian (11:45 a.m.): As it turns out, he didn’t have anything more compelling to say than everything is my fault.

To Kurt (11:46 a.m.): At least he took responsibility for his actions.

To Sebastian (11:46 a.m.): …

To Sebastian (11:47 a.m.): No. Everything is MY fault. As in he’s blaming me for everything that went down.

To Kurt (11:48 a.m.): Oh really?

To Sebastian (11:49 a.m.): A-ha.

To Kurt (11:50 a.m.): And what, pray tell, was your heinous sin?

To Sebastian (11:51 a.m.): I fell in love with you.

To Kurt (11:51 a.m.): …

To Kurt (11:52 a.m.): I … don’t know how to respond to that.

To Kurt (11:52 a.m.): Should I say I’m sorry?

To Sebastian (11:53 a.m.): To who?

To Kurt (11:54 a.m.): To you.

To Sebastian (11:55 a.m.): Don’t you dare!

To Kurt (11:56 a.m.): Alright! Alright!

To Sebastian (11:57 a.m.): More happened, but it’s too much to text. I’ll tell you when I see you.

To Sebastian (11:58 a.m.): I’m going to swing by my dad’s for a bit before I go to your place. Okay?

To Kurt (11:59 a.m.): You could always borrow some of my clothes, you know.

To Sebastian (12:00 p.m.): I know. Mostly I want to say hey to my dad. Let him know I’m not dead. Tell him the good news.

To Kurt (12:01 p.m.): What good news?

To Sebastian (12:02 p.m.): That I’m going to NYADA in the fall ;)

To Kurt (12:03 p.m.): I love you, you know.

To Sebastian (12:04 p.m.): I know.

To Sebastian (12:05 p.m.): I love you, too.

***

Kurt pulls up to the curb in front of his house and turns off his SUV. He sits a moment, takes in the view of this modest, suburban house that they’ve only lived in a couple of years. It’s nothing special on its own, but it became a home when he, his dad, Carole and Finn moved into it. He should probably take more time to appreciate it while he has the chance.

After all, how much time does he have left here?

He grabs his bag and heads up the walk, unlocks the front door and creeps into the living room. “Dad?” he calls into the emptiness. “Dad, are you here?”

He should be there. His truck is parked outside. But not Carole’s car, which means they could still have gone out somewhere. He should have called ahead, but it was the last thing on his mind - one of those tasks he would start to do, then get distracted by a humongous metaphorical asteroid heading straight for him.

“Hey, kiddo! Is that you?” he hears coming from the kitchen.

“In the living room!” Kurt puts his bag down on the floor and suddenly his dad is there, all open arms ready to give him a proper hello.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Burt squeezes his son tight, pats him hard on the back. “Are you home for good?” he asks hopefully.

“No,” Kurt says, hating to disappoint him. “Just for the day. We’re planning on heading back.”

“Oh.” His father’s smile dips, but he recovers it and rolls on. “Well, okay then. Do you have a minute? Because I need to talk to you.”

“What a coincidence,” Kurt says, “because I need to talk to you, too.”

“Should we flip a coin to see who goes first?” Burt teases.

“No.” The smile Kurt gives his father’s joke trembles at the corners. Because he misses his dad. He misses him a great deal. “You go first.”

“Okay …” His father clears his throat. He shifts his weight on both feet and puts his hands on his hips, getting into what Kurt affectionately refers to as lecture mode, and Kurt knows immediately what his father is about to say “… when were you plannin’ on tellin’ me about that NYADA bill?”

“I …” Kurt should have a better response to that than one syllable and a choke, but it hasn’t been a morning conducive to answering questions “… probably … never?” Burt sighs heavily, rolls back and forth on his heels. “I didn’t want to add another thing to your pile of stress!” Kurt explains. “I was trying to figure it out myself!”

“Well you don’t have to worry about it now,” his father says stoically.

“Wh—what do you mean I don’t have to worry about it?” Oh God, Kurt thinks. I’m not going to NYADA. It doesn’t matter that Sebastian gave him the check. He ran out of time to get the money to them and now his acceptance is null and void! But they said I had till the 10th of September! the logic side of his brain argues. Did they change the rules out from under him? Can they do that? Or did they find someone better, someone more talented last minute and decide to give them his spot? Wait - they can’t do that either, can they!?

It doesn’t matter whether they can or can’t, it might already be done, which means he failed at the one thing he wanted more than anything in life.

His dream, the one he put his pride on the line for, is officially over.

“I mean I talked to the girl down in financial aid and I handled it,” his father clarifies.

Kurt's eyes open so wide he genuinely fears they'll pop out of his skull and roll across the floor. “Come again?”

“Now before I explain, I want you to know, I didn’t open any of your mail. That would have been an invasion of privacy, no matter how nervous that last one made me. I guess the financial aid department has been calling you for the past week, and when they couldn’t get a hold of you, they contacted me. They wanted to know if you were still getting the last of the money together, or if you wanted to forfeit your spot to someone on the waiting list. Since I knew you’d never do that, I went ahead and took care of it.”

“But … how?” Kurt asks, begging his dad for an answer, how it was so damned simple for him to clear up when Kurt has been suffering all summer long!

Well, not suffering.

“I need details, Dad!”

Burt grins, proud to have gotten a smidgen of the upper hand over his kid for once. “Kurt, I know we haven’t talked about it much, but becoming a congressman has raised my net worth considerably. Nine plus thousand dollars has been a struggle for us in the past, but it wasn’t as huge a stretch this time.”

“I … I guess I didn’t realize that.”

“Well, maybe you should have talked to me about it first before running around, half-cocked, trying to find nine thousand dollars.”

“There’s a lot of things I should have talked to you about,” Kurt admits, ashamed that he not only didn’t talk to his dad about this, but that he hasn’t been talking to his dad most of this summer.

Not the way they used to.

His father leans closer, raises his eyebrows like he’s about to impart some wisdom. Or a secret. “Like about you and that Smythe boy?”

Kurt doesn’t even have to ask.

That question, mostly rhetorical, tells him that his dad knows. How all these people figured them out is unbelievable! Kurt thought he and Sebastian were doing a good job acting like a couple. Too good a job. Were they really that transparent? “How long have you known?” Kurt asks, sucker punched by a rousing case of deja vu. Maybe his third case so far? He’s lost track.

“It’s more of an I suspected than an I knew. You’re an extremely compassionate person, Kurt. You have high moral standards, always have. You get that from your mom. And like I said before, I know you and Blaine both forgave Sebastian for the things he did but …” His dad pinches his lips together and shakes his head, like there’s a two and a two he’s having a difficult time getting to add up “… I couldn’t see you dating him. But you told me you were happy, and you didn’t give me any reason to doubt you. If you did this, you must have had your reasons.” Burt pauses, hedges on this point. “And now that I know about this school debt, I’m thinking that might have had something to do with it?”

Kurt bites his lips together, so close to tears he can taste them in his mouth, but that doesn’t stop the squeak that should have been a much better answer from escaping his throat. He’d thought it himself, that dating Sebastian for money made him an escort … or worse. But his dad putting the pieces together this way and then making an inference to them out loud makes Kurt want to dig himself a hole and bury himself in it. It’s a little too much - much too much for this day in particular.

Burt puts a hand on Kurt’s shoulder, gives him a comforting squeeze. “No one’s judging you, Kurt,” he says softly. “And I’m not gonna interfere in the particulars of your life. You’re going to do what you’re going to do. I just want you to take care of yourself. Look out for you. Because you …”

“I matter,” Kurt finishes. “I know. And I am. I promise. If it’s any consolation, that’s all over.”

“You guys broke up?” his dad asks, strangely upset. “But I thought you said …”

“No. No, we didn’t break up. Actually …” Kurt smiles. It’s completely subconscious, springing up on his face as if in response to a private joke, or a sentimental story “… we’re dating … for real.”

“Good.” Burt pulls his son in for a hug. “That’s good. He seems like a decent kid all things considered. Comes from real good stock. Has a good head on his shoulders.”

“How do you know that? You’ve only met him a handful of times!”

“He’s dating my son. He must be a flippin’ genius!”

Kurt laughs and Burt joins him, not stopping or letting go of one another until they’re both in tears.

“Thank you for calling the school,” Kurt says, “ and for paying that bill. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did, Kurt. Look, I know you’re an adult and everything now, being all of eighteen, but I’m still your dad. I’m gonna help you out when I can.”

“Are you disappointed in me?” Kurt asks, and yes, it might have been cowardly of him to wait and ask when his father was riding high on his good mood, but Kurt can’t take too many more emotional upheavals today.

“No, I’m not,” his father says. “Maybe a little hurt, but not disappointed. But I understand. Dealing with small, basic financial matters are scary enough. Balancing a checkbook, making a budget, socking away for emergencies, getting a car loan. They don’t teach you those things in school anymore and they’re terrifying. I can imagine how you felt getting this news. And then feeling like you had to tackle it alone?”

“That’s … not all I mean,” Kurt admits, even when, for the sake of his sanity, it probably would be better to stop while he’s ahead.

“Kurt, I love the fact that you value my opinion,” Burt says. “As a parent, I know there’ll come a day when you won’t need my advice anymore.”

“I’ll always need your advice, Dad,” Kurt says, holding onto his dad, holding on to this moment for as long as he can. Father-son talks tend to do this to him, fill him with a sense of melancholy, especially lately, which is probably why he’s been avoiding them. Because way too often, they feel like goodbye. “No matter how old I get.”

“Then let me give you a little now.” Burt holds his son at arm’s length so he can look into his eyes. “You have to make the decisions that are right for you. Nobody else. Whatever makes you happy. As long as you’re not hurting yourself and it’s legal, I’m behind you all the way. I want you stop worrying for once and enjoy your life.”

“You’re right,” Kurt agrees, but rolling his eyes at the legal remark. Are private escorts legal in Ohio? What’s the sentence if you’re found guilty of being one? He hates that this is now something he’s going to Google when he gets back to his SUV. “I’m going to go do that right now.”

***

“Jesus, Kurt!” Sebastian moans, rolling his hips up, rubbing what’s left of his spent erection along the crack of Kurt’s rear. “I love your ass!”

“Thank you,” Kurt says, pushing back against him. “I’m rather fond of it myself.”

“So … Blaine’s dad said that to you?” Sebastian wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s naked body and holds it against him. He buries his nose in Kurt’s hair, breathes him in deep. “And he still has a neck and two testicles?”

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Kurt melts into Sebastian’s embrace, into the sweaty skin pressed against his own. “I’d call that growth, wouldn’t you?”

“I knew Blaine’s parents were a mess, but I never would have thought …” Sebastian shakes his head against Kurt’s shoulder. “I’d say you dodged a bullet there, babe. I mean, can you imagine that man ten, twenty years from now …”

“I can imagine him flat as a crepe because after the first year with him as an in-law I would have run him over with my SUV. Repeatedly.”

“We still can,” Sebastian says with an excited wiggle, as if he’d started thinking about it in earnest. “I know a place where we can hide a body.”

“I’m sure you do,” Kurt says with a patronizing pat on his arm, taking Sebastian’s murderous fantasies in his stride. But the joke washes aside, and Kurt sighs. “Do you think there’s any hope for Julian and Cooper? You were with Cooper when they saw one another. Do you think …?”

“Yeah.” Sebastian doesn’t interrupt Kurt. Kurt can’t seem to finish his sentence. The past few days have taken such an emotional toll on him, his whole body aches, down to his bones. “I think they’re going to be okay. They have a lot of talking to do … which I’m sure they’ll get to after all the fucking they’re doing right now.”

Kurt tilts his head back an inch to see Sebastian’s face. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack, babe.”

Kurt’s left eyebrow arches as he continues to stare. “You know, I question the way you talk sometimes.”

“It’s a hazard of having a brother and sister almost a decade older than you.”

“That makes sense.” Kurt turns away, inching his way back against Sebastian’s body so that he can feel more of his skin around him. Sebastian seems to know this and hooks a leg over his. “Sebastian, I need you to promise me something.”

“I’ll do what I can,” he says, kissing Kurt’s cheek, his skin hot to the touch.

“I know everything that’s happened in the past two days has been … intense.”

Sebastian makes a small sound that’s part genuine laugh, part huff. “You can say that again.”

“And I know that if you decide to leave …” Kurt’s voice, which he tries to keep calm, rational, pragmatic, splinters a hair “… take a break from all of this … and me … you’ll come back, but you can’t leave. If I wake up and you’re not here …”

Sebastian shushes him gently, puts a hand to his head and draws him to his chest. Kurt turns into it, rolling towards him and resting his forehead against his shoulder. “I’m still here, Kurt. And I promise, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not running away from you. Not anymore.”

#acitw #acitw au #kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #kurt hummel #sebastian smythe #spread the love!

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blaster-aichi · 4 years

Text

Cardfight!! Vanguard Extra Story IF 17—19 things

feat some overdue screaming

IF 17

said overdue screaming

Without the context of epi 19, Kourin’s reference to original memories stands out as incredibly peculiar. Miwa’s response, while fitting for anyone else, could have an entirely new meaning after the revelation at 19′s conclusion, we’ll get there in theoryland.

Never knew needed Kai-kun working part-time jobs but it has become a huge need, thanks writers.

That’s gay. But it does suggest that the possible ruptures in IF’s reality aren’t isolated to Shin and Kamui in the previous episode. It would be nice to see any other instances from the possible ripple effect.

pre-19: “oh this face is a mood”. post-19: “different character but hmmmmm”

With all the Legion Mate comparisons floating around from the get-go, Naoki’s method in tackling his regret is an intriguing choice against his past efforts. In Link Joker, Legion Mate and the second half of the manga/Reboot, Naoki’s objective was to make for his inaction going forward and earn Aichi’s forgiveness. If given the opportunity to go back and redo things, he may have taken it, though having heard from Aichi personally that he’s thankful for everything and everyone that he’s connected with as a result of how events played out, Naoki may not have had the heart to do so. Without that talk, it’s natural that, instead of looking ahead and atoning, Naoki’s turning backwards, it’s a neat contrast.

The series has always built up the relationship between Aichi and Blaster Blade but the relationship between Kai-kun and Dragonic Overlord is so precious, it’s a shame that it wasn’t delved into prior to the past couple of years. The notion of evolving circling the both of them is incredibly fitting, with the history they’ve had in both continuities and the duality of their approaches. (It might have been occupying thoughts a lot since, the scene was so poignant).

Between his soldiers attacking during their first (onscreen) attempt to reach the root of the problem and Emi’s subsequent admission, props to Aichi for isolating it and cutting it off to anyone that tries to interfere, hoping it’s a part of any explanation to his reality warping (assuming it was him, until today, it seemed the only viable reason).

The comparison between Naoki and Kai-kun had me believe the former might join up with the main party as a nod to being there by the latter from beginning to end of Legion Mate, being both characters harbouring regrets (if Kai-kun were to regret that his IF life takes away from the happiness of the Outside World characters).

I just really, really, really love this scene. That is all.

Bless for highlighting the irony in the KaiAi units being adversaries.

Did I mention this is joint-favourite IF epi with epi 7? It’s not, it is and here’s one of many reasons why.

Reason #57 why: the battle choreography.

“Aichi Sendou isn’t the one you want to save”. Makes you wonder who was out to save the object of their regret and who was out to save themselves.

For a moment, had believed Naoki was not-dying (Retiring?) and being returned to the Outside World, somewhat surprised it hasn’t been utilized more beyond the Ultra Rare teams diving into the Akashic Book from.

Very Soft Cardfight. That is all.

Somewhere, original continity Naoki is screaming.

Tell this to your Link Joker self, please.

IF 18

On the one hand, Kai-kun walking around in Miyaji (with or without the context of IF), on the other hand, Bushi Eats.

Probably due to cracks coming from him getting a glimpse of the original reality, but Shingo cares an enormous amount for someone who, just a couple of episodes ago, said all the products in Card Capital were going to make him lose his mind.

“Awful big brother”. Laughs with shovel. (Comparatively, he’s brother of the year.)

PEDAL FASTER.

Love how Masaki and Shinji are named to overlap with their brothers’.

He’s going to fucking murder you.

[Kourin voice] Aichi is tired. [Me voice] As am I of your bullshit.

Wingal took so much time to train that it was only on his third appearance that he didn’t attack anyone. Also soft? So very soft.

NO THAT’S SO CUTE DAMN IT.

I have so much to say about Aichi missing Emi but also she’s barged in twice and you blasted out our of the castle on both occasions. Bullshit.

Do not pull the Legion Mate with me, boy.

Is he super dissociated because how do you even in the face of this?

It’s not just that he shouted her name, but the tone of his voice shouting at her. Thinking about just how extreme it is in comparison to the Aichi she knows and has kept company is pretty chilling.

Just how aggressive Aichi has become within the IF World is alarming; on only two occasions has he let anger get the better of him and one of those two wasn’t so bad. If this is to play on how warped he was going into the fight with Ibuki, good play on the writers’ part.

Semi-related to the above; with exception of three characters (Emi, Rati and Voidkuto), Aichi’s always used honorifics, and attached one to Kourin’s name, so to hear him address her without one is jarring, for lack of a better word.

THE BIG RED FLAG: Aichi’s expression in seeing Kourin having acted of her own accord (and potentially disobey him) smacks of two things: — his perceived crumbling control over the Sanctuary Knights, coupled with Naoki and Shingo’s desertion (his lack of reaction to the latter is bizarre, as it lends itself to and could bolster his hatred of Vanguard) — insinuates he never had control, but was allowed to think that he did. There’ll be a section beneath 19, which itself does a lot to fuel the flames of this suspicion, that will consolidate thoughts and the theory that’s been brewing since this episode last week.

On the subject of 19, Miwa being so nonchalant and passive about everything makes a lot more sense.

Let the girls fight physically more.

UBW Archer Class Meme-y Dialogue tingles.

Naoki and Shingo holding down the fort is very sweet, particularly when Shingo was alone in that task last time.

IF 19

Alarm bells rings first thing in the morning.

The irony in past Ibuki preventing Kai-kun going to Aichi after the past dozen episodes, there are no words.

Odd that the caveat of meeting yourself from another point in time presents itself when it didn’t occur in the first two episodes, unless, at least in this case, it applies only to past events.

There’s trying not to yell FGO at things and then there’s brain yelling “Lostbelt!” at Ibuki.

Rekka and Ren’s appearances gives me hope they’ll resurface; the main characters and audience know where their target is, so would like to think word will somehow get to them. (Speaking of. Nome? Where the fuck are you during all this?)

Episode loves playing with unsettling sights, very fitting for messing Ibuki’s head around, but simultaneously, making it apparent just how much of a threat Kourin specifically is. — On a related note: Kourin beats out Ren, Leon, Sera, Voidkuto and IF Aichi to have the most nightmarish face and I Am Afraid. Give Aichi a face like that al you’ll irreparably wound my psyche.

Intense Vibrating. They’re setting up Ibuki’s Deleting Aichi is relevant, it was the only one Kourin didn’t touch on in the episode and I am burning.

How dare you montage their time together with that music and then cut to this!

Did everyone else forget Jammers were a thing or was it just me being dumb?

Everyday I relate to Kai Toshiki.

Just going to appreciate Kai-kun gushing over giant robots in the middle of battle.

Kai-kun!Blaster Blade vs Greion giving me intense flashbacks to Aichi watching Kai-kun’s image in Blaster Blade sacrificing himself to try and fend off Greion just before he got Deleted and SCREAMS. — Once that fight is brought up directly, if you listen, you’ll hear Rena screaming in the distance.

If there’s anyone who has no room to talk it’s Miss This Thirsty For Aichi. Also when did you two switch places of tease and teased?

“Oh shit, he’s going to Delete Kai-kun”. “Oh okay, false alarm, thank G—” “OH NO SHIT HE’S ACTUALLY GOING TO DO IT!” — On an actual note, seeing the three regrets prominent in this season all take separate routes is interesting; Shuka working to correct her wrongs in the present and moving ahead, Naoki trying to travel back and alter things from the point of origin and Ibuki being twisted to no longer feel regret, seek repentence and rather to repeat his actions. — Ibuki vs Aichi flashbacks intensify. — Also, mid-fall dab.

Double Agent Miwa is a blessing, who knew his acting skills were so good? Although the begs the question (if he was flat-out planted as a mole) how he earned Kourin and/or Aichi’s trust to become a Sanctuary Knight in the first place

IF 20 preview: HYPE! HYPE! HYPE!

Theoryland (Screaming):

Miwa being Takuto or Nome’s Outside World partner:

In both Rekka and Suiko’s cases, there was a companion venturing in alongside them, both of whom are friends of Kai-kun and the same age. Perhaps, Miwa may have been in league with one of the Tatsunagi brothers (having determined Aichi’s motivation and Kai-kun’s position in all this, calling on his closest friend to match the girls’ partners) through whom he gained insight into the situation and moved in order to protect Kai-kun; working from the inside to weasel information out of the others, understand how they operate, monitor their activities to keep Kai-kun out of their sights, (find Takuto, if with Nome) and maybe (find a means to or actively make an effort himself to) drag Aichi out of his current state. It may be that, instead of Sanctuary, his abduction of Kai-kun had the destination of a rendezvous with Nome until the girls’ interference and the entire incident went off the rails.

Aichi as a puppet king and Kourin the true human antagonist:

Since his expression in seeing Kourin on the offensive without his say-so, it’s been on my mind that Aichi hasn’t actually been in a position of power whatsoever throughout IF, but he’s been led to believe he is, and the act might be withering. As "original" memories factor into it and Ultra Rare’s were lost at the end of the main Reboot continuity plot, it’s possible they may be on the line as they were in Link Joker/Legion Mate. — As she’s aware there are such memories, it’s possible that they were triggered into resurfacing when Takuto appeared within IF World and encountered her and Aichi, leading to his capture and confinement, so as not to cause any further damage to the world fabricated. — Alternatively, she might be acting in order to keep the force (a Brandt remnant remains my personal suspicion) that has Aichi in his current state at bay. Her unease in seeing him hanging above the scene outside Sanctuary as she attacked the others might suggest that she was worried it could break loose, as she’s never been one to be rattled. This is why “human” was specified above, because whatever the case, any corruption in Aichi is evidently the overarching antagonist force.

Additionally, throughout the season, Kourin has been fiercely territorial around Aichi, speaking and acting on his behalf, while keeping the other Sanctuary Knights at an arm’s distance. She alone enters his private quarters, sees him in pain, and (no, haven’t given up entirely on the right eye thing, there have been other people around when he’s outside his Alfred form and it was visible) privy to any secret circulating him (as well as IF’s true nature), while keeping the others in teh dark. Her reasoning may be wanting to keep him under he thumb or prevent whatever’s inside/in control of him from running rampant.

And in regards to Ibuki, Aichi made the declaration about casting him elsewhere, but Kourin was the one who enacted it, and the sole player in manipulating him to switch sides. There’s no certainty that Aichi is even aware, much like he might not be conscious of Naoki’s betrayal. — Her being responsible for recruiting might also explain why Misaki was never a Sanctuary Knight: Kourin desired she have an ordinary, happy life, not unlike Aichi’s wish for Kai-kun.

In a truly ironic turnabout, it looks to be that Kourin is IF’s Sera.

#Cardfight!! Vanguard #Cardfight!! Vanguard IF #cfv spoilers #long post

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cilldaracailin · 4 years

Text

Play The Game

Hello my Tumblr Lovely’s!

At last and about forty minutes later then I expected, I am finally ready to post after I kicked the internets butt (I really actually had a shower, got my stuff ready for work, got mad at the internet as it refused to work, turned my laptop on and off, disconnected and reconnected the internet and had a little moan (I say little, I mean a lot..) and finally it worked!

But anywhoo, the next part of the Play The Game! Hope you all enjoy...

Suze xx

*Little disclaimer, I did a little research for this part so I got the details as best as I could...*

“A friend is one of the nicest things you can have and one of the best things you can be”

It was a rainy Saturday morning in London that met Robyn as she wheeled her case through the exit of Heathrow airport and she stayed under the cover of the airport to keep dry. She pulled out her phone to call Taron but saw a text message waiting for her. She read it with a grin and made her way towards a blacked-out car that was parked near the end of the pick-up point for cars.

“Hello Robyn.”

“Hey Anthony!” Robyn grinned as the driver stepped out and she recognised him immediately. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought that might be obvious chicken.” Robyn looked to the back window of the car that was slightly rolled down and she could see Taron’s eyes peeking through. “We are here to pick you up from the airport.”

She grinned and thanked Anthony as he took her case. “Please wait Robyn. I will get the door for you.”

“Anthony, I can get…”

“I will get it Robyn.”

“Okie dokie.”

Robyn stood patiently at the boot of the car and waited while Anthony sorted her case and once he was finished, followed him around to the opposite side of the car and after he had opened the door, slipped into the back seat and was met with a wonderfully large grin on Taron’s face and a bunch of daffodils.

“Hello chicken!” Taron’s excitement levels had been on overdrive and he was finding it so hard to stay in the back of the car, let alone sit still. Robyn had told him she had planned on taking the tube to Tottenham Court Road and walk the quick ten minutes to The Mandrake hotel, the one Taron had organised for them and meet him there but Taron had other ideas and arranged a car to pick her up. He just hadn’t told her that he was going to be in the back waiting for her. “These are for you.” He handed over the daffodils to her, knowing they were her absolute favourite.

“Taron!” Exclaimed Robyn not expecting to see him until she was at the hotel, but here he was right beside her. “Aww wow thank you. My favourite.” She took the flowers from him. “These are beautiful.” Robyn placed them beside the door, which was now closed as Anthony was back behind the wheel, driving them away from the airport and to their hotel for the night. “I want my squishy hug now.” She said with a firm voice and enjoyed hearing Taron’s laugh in person and how he shuffled closer to her and wrapped her up tightly into his arms.

“This is a different take on the hug. The sitting sideways squishy but I am so happy to see you. It has been much too long since we have seen each other in person.”

“Hey that’s all on you. I am not the big movie star spending my time in New York re-shooting a movie and I am training free at the moment. I’ve been spending my weekend with cwtch.”

Taron grinned as he leant his nose into her neck and rubbed her back. “Not my fault the weather in New York was shit and we had to wait for the snow to melt a little.”

“Ok I will give you that one.” Robyn slowly moved her fingers through his hair at the back of his head, smiling that he hadn’t had the chance to cut it short because he needed the length for his Eggsy re-shoots. “Nice to see you too by the way.” Robyn moved away from him and smiled. “And Anthony too.” She said giving a nod towards the driver seat.

“I asked Elton for a favour and once I mentioned you, he was very willing to help me out. Anthony more than happy to help too when he heard it was you. What is it about people just wanting to do things for you?”

Robyn blushed a little. “People don’t just do things for me.”

Taron chucked against her. “You have no idea the power you hold over everyone chicken. Me, my family, the kids you work with, Stella, Elton, Anthony, Richard? The list is endless.” He smiled as she tugged his hair a little in protest. “I just tell it like it is Robyn.” He gave her one more quick hug and moved back from her.

Ignoring his comment completely, Robyn lifted her eyes to look at him and grinned. “Hey you don’t look tired! That’s a first.”

“I have been in London since Wednesday and literally spent the last two days sleeping but you do.” Taron frowned a little as he gently ran a fingertip under the dark circles under her eyes. “You been sleeping?”

After having her eyes closed and very much enjoying the feeling of his fingers on her skin, she looked to him. “Been a busy two weeks.”

“Still sorting that paper work shit out?”

“It is finally sorted. I didn’t want to have to be at it next week as the date for it to be finished is next Wednesday, so I didn’t leave the office till after nine last night.”

“Robyn…” Taron was ready to frown at her but she interrupted him before he could.

“Yeah I know but if I had to look at those forms again, I was actually going to go mad and I sent the last one off all corrected and filled in. It was such a load of bollocks anyway. Moving the date of registration and then giving out more paperwork to be filled in and then I was chasing parents for forms that had been sent home and trying to catch them because they had missed a place to sign and it was just…” Her long-winded sentence was cut off as Taron pulled her in for another hug.

“You needed this weekend huh?”

“More than you could imagine.” She answered taking one long deep breathe, cuddling a little more into him, though it was a little awkward in their sideways position.

“How about a nap when we get to the hotel?” He asked her, carefully letting her go and once out of his arms, used his two hands to brush her hair away from her face, his fingers separating soft strands the whole length of her hair. “And I know you got your hair cut.”

Robyn grinned. “I told you I was going too.”

“You told me an inch.”

“I did get an inch.”

“This is more than an inch.” He said, gathering her hair around her shoulders, fanning the long strands out, frowning when he couldn’t find the colour he was searching for. “And you took the pink out.”

“It mostly washed out and my hairdresser was mad at me!” She laughed. “Not impressed at all. She changed it all back to blonde.”

“I liked the pink.” He said sadly.

“I am a bit old for the pink.”

“Never.” He smiled, moving to sit back against the seat. “Can’t believe you cut your hair. I specifically didn’t get a haircut because I know you like my hair longer.”

Robyn laughed as she moved to sit right beside him, their legs touching. “You are such a liar and a bad one at that. You just told me you spent the last two days sleeping. There was no time for you to go and get a haircut, especially when you have only just come back from New York.”

Shaking his head, Taron realised he had been caught out. “Alright fine but you did cut more than you said you would.”

“And it has grown a lot since I have seen you last.” She chucked at his face when as he stared at her. “You are a little protective of my hair.”

“I just like it long that’s all.” Taron turned to kiss her temple, his lips lingering a moment longer than necessary on her skin.

“I like it long too. You know it has taken me years to grow it out. It just really needed a good trim. I am never going to cut it short and it is still really long Taron. I mean it goes down past my shoulder blades.” She took in his doubtful face and smiling tapped his nose as she always did when he was giving her his best frown. “Hair grows Taron.”

“Yeah I know.” He tapped her nose back. “No sign of those freckles coming back either.”

“Taron…” Robyn’s voice was playful.

“Anyway, moving on, so you all set for this evening.” He asked her.

“You brought my dress?” She asked him.

“Yep. In the boot.”

“Then I am all set. I am looking forward to it.”

“To the musical or the red carpet?”

“The musical.” She whispered.

“I got the red carpet covered and I know Lyndsey has called you.”

“She has. Gave me some tips and answers and I promise to follow them.” She replied. “As best I can.” She added with a second thought.

“Do I get to see fiery Robyn tonight?” He asked her.

“Hopefully not. I promise to be good.”

“I know you will chicken.” Taron re-positioned his body a little against the back seat, rolling his neck and his shoulders when he felt a little uncomfortable twinge seep in before he settled.

“You ok?” Robyn asked him watching as his eyes closed and a little whimper left his lips as he rolled his head again, his right hand moving to the nape of his neck to rub the slight ache he obviously was feeling away.

“Just a little stiff and sore. Re-shoots are always gruelling. Trying to cram as much as we can into the last few hours we have. Instead of being tired I am just a little tender.”

“Am I getting flashbacks from when you came to my home and every move you made hurt you?”

“No you’re not. Just some of the perks of the job. Sleeping constantly over the last two days hasn’t really helped. I will be right as rein for this evening and you don’t have to give me that look. I am just fine. Our bathroom has a rainfall shower. Might take extra advantage of it this evening.”

“Bet you are glad to be finally finished.”

“It’s been one of the longest shoots.”

“Didn’t help the break in-between either.”

“No, it dragged it out but it’s done. I am glad I am not in Matthew’s shoes. He has just under a month to edit and get the movie ready for release.”

“Surely it would have made more sense to just push the release date back?”

“In theory yes but in reality, no. Not with all the promotion already organised and booked. It’s just a logistical mess and editing a movie is much easier when it comes down to it all.”

“You are going to be busy in April.” Frowned Robyn.

“You too.”

“Not as busy as you.”

“Seven shows as Mimi?” He countered

“Yeah but I have one show an evening. You have a gazillion interviews and press thingy-ma-bobs one after the other in a gazillion different countries.”

“Sounds about right.” Laughed Taron. “Press thingy-ma-bobs. You’re still going to get me a ticket to your show?”

“Yep as soon as they go on sale.”

“And a front row seat?”

“I will get you a good seat Taron. Maybe not front row cos it is quite close to the stage. Sometimes a few rows back are best.”

“Perfect. I am very happy our dates don’t clash.”

“Me too but you are straight into promotion on the Monday after you come to see RENT.”

“I will be fine. I always get a fabulous sleep in your bed. It can be my last cosy duvet sleep before the madness starts.”

“Did you plan this whole thing yourself? Talk to the musical society so our dates wouldn’t clash with yours and that you would be able to have at least one decent sleep before you went on your promotional tour?”

“Dammit, my secret is out! The promotion is always so tiring so I will need a good sleep before it starts and I have always had a wonderful sleep at your house.”

“You can bring your throw with you when you are working.”

“That is exactly what I am going to do. That throw has been a life saver to me.” As Taron spoke, Robyn yawned rubbing her eyes. “You are in need of a nap.”

“I don’t nap.” Replied Robyn through another yawn, frowning as it left tired watery tears in her eyes. She wiped them again but it made no difference as she found herself just closing her eyes as she was struck with a bout of yawning.

“You are going to make me start soon.” He chuckled watching as she tried to stop herself from doing it again but failed. “Hey Anthony, how long till we get to the hotel?”

“About half an hour Taron.” He replied looking in his mirror to him, “Traffic isn’t that bad at the moment.”

“We’ll be there soon Robyn and I think a nap is on the cards. I don’t want you falling asleep on me tonight at the musical.”

“Me sleep through a musical? Never but a nap would probably be a good idea.”

“How many hours have you worked this week?” He asked slipping his arm around her waist.

“I started at seven most mornings.”

“And finished at?”

“Probably after six and then last night a little later.”

“Robyn that is a near sixty-hour week!” Taron exclaimed. “And you have musical rehearsals twice a week too.”

“Actually, it was fifty-two.”

“You are going to burn out Robyn. Please tell me you have some holidays coming up soon.”

“Well actually, St Patrick’s Day is in three weeks so we get a day off for that.”

“Wow a whole day. That’s a fucking wonderful holiday.” He replied sarcastically.

“And if you let me finish, I was going to see about taking the day after off…”

“You need more than a day off.”

“And again if you let me finish this sentence which is a particularly long one….” She turned to look at him and he gestured with his right hand for her to continue. “St Patrick’s Day is on a Tuesday this year so we get the Monday off anyway but I have already put my request in to get the Wednesday off and it would be three days off along with the weekend and…” Robyn covered Taron’s mouth with her left hand as she saw him about to interrupt her again. “And I was going to see if you were free to come and visit and spend St. Patrick’s Day with me and Jesus Taron! Stop with the licking!” Taking her hand away, she wiped her palm on his t-shirt under his shirt, adoring the feeling of his chest moving as under her hand as he laughed.

“I can go and be Irish for a day?” Taron asked a little excitedly, his voice deepening, his accent getting stronger as it always did when his tone lowered.

“Yes if you have no plans, you wanna come over to be Irish for the day?”

“Can I get back to you? I am almost sure I am free and would love to come over but I am working with my agent at the moment for a new role and I want to make sure the screen test isn’t that weekend.”

“Of course. So which script is it? The desperately in love man who can’t get the girl or the son who lives in an abusive household.”

“The second one.”

“Taron that’s fantastic. I know how much you had wanted that part.”

“Hopefully you can rub some Irish luck on me before you go tomorrow so I can have a hells chance of getting it.”

Robyn ran her two hands down his face smirking enjoying the boyish chuckle he made. “There ya go and just ask if you need more. Also don’t sell yourself short Taron. You are an incredible actor.”

“You have to say that. You are my best friend.”

“I said it before I was your best friend. You know that.”

“Yeah I do and thank you and if the screen test isn’t then, I will definitely come and be Irish with you. Top of the mornin’ to ya!” He laughed.

“Oh Taron, no sweetheart no.” Robyn slid from around his arm, patted his thigh and turned her body to face him. “If you are coming to Ireland for St. Patrick’s Day there are some rules and the first one is, no typical Irish puns in dreadfully clichéd Irish accents. You will be slaughtered!”

“Alright ok. What is rule number two?”

“Wearing green is obligatory as well as half a shamrock plant.”

“I can do that. Anything else?”

“Nope that is it.”

“Well if I go, I can follow those rules easily. Can I add a third one?”

“Sure.”

“A pint of Guinness. I must have a pint of Guinness.”

Smiling, Robyn lifted his arm and slipped back under it. “We can definitely get you a pint of the black stuff.”

Grinning Taron nodded. “As soon as I know if I am free, I will let you know.”

“Great. It will be low key St. Patrick’s Day Taron. I actually hate Dublin on Patrick’s Day. It is so horribly busy but Kilcreen has a parade and my choir normally puts on a little concert in the town square afterwards and there is a duck race and a few other things.”

“A duck race?”

“People can buy a yellow plastic duck in the town for five euro. Then all the ducks are launched into the canal at the locks and they float, very slowly, under the bridge towards a finish point and the person who bought the winning duck gets a prize.”

Taron chuckled. “Obviously a very traditional Irish activity.”

“In Kilcreen yeah.”

“Well chicken, if I can go, I will wear my best green outfit and buy a duck.”

Robyn smiled. “Great.” Another yawn left her lips and she shook her head. “Jesus sorry Taron.”

Using his right hand on her cheek, he guided her head to his chest. “Just close your eyes.”

Doing as he asked, Robyn closed her tired eyes and allowed herself to melt into him, enjoying the warmth his body always provided her. As much as she loved coming to see Taron, their time together was always so short and as she sat against him, listening to his heart beat and feeling his chest rise and fall with every breathe he took, she wished they were able to have more than forty-eight hours together just once.

It was a pleasant ten minute cuddle they got with each other as Anthony drove them to their hotel and once they had pulled up outside, Robyn had already opened the door before Anthony could get to do it.

“Shit sorry Anthony.” She apologised as she closed the car door. “It’s just habit, you know getting out of a car myself.”

With a grin, Anthony opened the boot of the car and took out their cases, handing Taron the two garment bags.

“So I will see you both at six?”

“Perfect. Thanks so much.” Agreed Taron. He went to take their cases but saw that Robyn had already lifted them both up onto the curb. “Robyn...”

“Don’t you start.” She said as he joined her at the curb, pointing her bunch of daffodils at him.

“It’s just they have a luggage service here chicken. You really don’t have to do that.”

Robyn turned to see a very well-dressed man walking towards them. “I can take those from you ma’am.” He stood beside Robyn and smiling, took the two small suitcases from her. “And sir, those as well?”

“Please.” Taron handed over the two garment bags.

“And the name sir?”

“Egerton.”

“I will bring them to your room.”

“Thank you very much.” Answered Taron and moved the two steps to stand beside Robyn who had that look on her face when she was getting ready to disapprove of something.

“Taron Egerton, didn’t I say specify simple and that you weren’t to go all out for a hotel room? Luggage service?”

“I didn’t.” He answered. “I didn’t even pay for the room.” He smiled, feeling all the love in the world at that current moment for how innocent Robyn really was when it came to being involved in his events and it just warmed his heart so much. He loved watching her get to enjoy the finer things in life his job gave to him and he was so happy to be able to share them with her, especially because this kind of luxury was an absolute treat for her and she became almost childlike with excitement. “It was an option that came with the tickets for the evening. We had a choice of hotels and I picked this one because it was the less extravagant of the three.”

“You get your room included in events you go to?”

“Not normally but for this one yep. So, you can’t be mad at me for anything to do with the hotel because I had nothing to do with it.” Taron linked his arm with hers. “Now shall we go and check in?”

“Sure, why not? Have you stayed here before?” She asked him as the doorman opened the door for them.

“Nope. This is a first for me too.”

Robyn actually stopped mid-step as she took in the grand luxury of the lobby, Taron pulling her a little to get her waking again. The dark grey wooden floor was shining and the burgundy sofas near the reception were a shade lighter than the dress she had picked. Expensive artwork decorated the walls and the green marble desk of the reception was a stunning emerald colour.

“Welcome to the Mandrake.” The receptionist said cheerily as they approached.

“I have a reservation under Egerton?” Explained Taron, trying not laugh at Robyn as he could see her looking around the lobby, her eyes wide.

“Ok great.” The receptionist typed the name into her computer. “Perfect. I have you here Mr. Egerton. You are booked into one of our terrace rooms for a one-night stay with your guest?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Fantastic.” After some more typing, the lady took a piece of paper that she had printed off from the computer and slid it towards Taron. “Could I just get you to sign here please?”

“Sure.” Taron took the pen and signed his name as instructed.

“Thank you. You are in room seven.” She explained as she handed him a key. “Along with our terrace rooms, comes an automatic reservation for a meal at Jurema, our restaurant beside the terrace rooms, so if you would like to use that, please just ring reception and we can organise that for you. With your room, you also have full access to the Waeska bar, again which is right beside the terrace rooms and there is some beautiful seating in the courtyard of the bar. Your room also a set of double doors which opens onto a private little terrace of your own.”

“That sounds perfect.” Taron picked up the key.

“To get to your room, take the left at the end of the reception where you will come to the lift. The terrace rooms are located on the fifth floor. Once onto the decking, you will see a sign which will guide you to a small corridor to the left of the lift. Once down the corridor you will see another sign that directs you to your room which is to the left. It is the very last room on that row, in the corner. It is one of our quietest rooms.”

“That sounds even better.” Smiled Taron. It was just what he had hoped for. A quiet room in a quiet area of the hotel.

“Check out tomorrow is at twelve and if you need anything at all during your stay, please don’t hesitate to call us here at reception.”

“Thank you very much.”

“You are more than welcome. Enjoy your stay here with us.”

Giving a nod, Taron slipped his hand in Robyn’s and with a pull, he guided her back down the lobby. “Cat got your tongue?” He asked her as they stood in front of the lift. “It is rare that Robyn Quinn is speechless.” Taron reached forward and pressed the button to call for the lift.

“This place is insane. I mean I have stayed in what I thought was a luxury hotel in Gran Canaria but it is nothing compared to this.”

Taron grinned. “Events like these have nothing but the best Robyn.”

“And didn’t you say this was the least expensive of the three.” Taron nodded and Robyn shook her head.

“It’s just the way it is chicken.” He replied giving her hand a squeeze. “All I can say to you is just enjoy it.” The lift dinged open with a little jingle and Taron looked to her. “Yeah, I know, Robyn. I know.”

“What’s wrong with a simple ding?” She asked as they walked into the lift, Taron pushing the button for floor five once inside and as the doors were closed, he gave her a hug. “What’s this for?” She asked against his shoulder.

“Just thought you needed one. I think you knew Elton’s was going to be, well Elton, but this weekend is a whole different ball game for you and I wanted to know I am so glad you came with me.”

“You gave me one of your vouchers Taron and I have already told you that I wanted to come. I wanted to see you and if it has to be in a hotel that probably costs a week’s wages a night for me then I guess it has to be so. Do you think there will be chocolates on the pillows?”

It was wonderful laugh that filtered through him. “I should hope so and if not, I will ring reception to ask for some.”

“You remember what happened the last time we were around a lift?” She asked him, a ridiculously stupid plan quickly forming in her mind.

“Vaguely.” He answered and although he laughed as Robyn moved her head to place a kiss on the side of his neck, his heart jumped out of his skin and he felt his legs buckle. His feelings hadn’t changed since they spent the few days over New Years together and while his friends continued to give him stick over his serious crush on the woman he was holding tight, they only increased when she slid into the car beside him earlier and now the kisses she left on his neck and jaw were burning his skin alive. “Ok ok!” He chuckled. “That’s enough of that!” He placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a little push away from him.

Robyn’s face was in a full grin. “Just returning the favour.” She replied shrugging as the lift dinged again as it stopped at their floor.

Again, he found himself alone in the lift as Robyn walked out and he took some steps to follow her but nearly knocked her over, his hands wrapping around her stomach tightly to keep her standing as she stalled right in front of the lift. “Shit sorry Robyn.”

“Wow.” Was her answer to him as to why she had stopped and when he looked up, he repeated her words.

It looked like they had stepped out of a hotel and into a small tropical paradise. A pristine wooden decking covered the edge of the fifth floor and with the sturdy railings to the left and right of them, Robyn presumed those railings provided the privacy for the balconies each room had. Robyn walked over to the railing in front of her, Taron’s hands falling from her stomach and looked down to the fourth floor below them. Wicker chairs with white cushions and glass encased wicker tables were spread evenly along the fourth floor and there were two chair swings against the wall on the left side of the floor. There was a garden in the middle of the fourth floor surrounded by the same railing she was leaning on and within the little garden were palm trees and large tropical plants which only added to the serene atmosphere the terrace floor provided. To the right on the fourth floor was a wooden bar and more seats and tables which were decorated with candles. Above the bar, the railings for the private balconies which were covered in leafy green vines. More vibrant vines climbed the walls and trellises around the two floors and the sunlight from the windows flooded everywhere with a stunning brightness which helped create the outdoors feeling.

“This is incredible.” Commented Robyn. “I don’t feel like I am in London any more and that is for sure.”

“Definitely something else. Shall we go and find our room?”

“Yes.”

Grinning at Robyn’s change in attitude towards the fancy hotel, he let her lead the way down the small corridor beside the lift as instructed and once they reached the next set of decking and greenery, Robyn turned left and walked down the hallway to the very end. “Number seven, right?”

“Yep.”

Robyn stopped outside a wooden door and waited for Taron. “You want to do the honours?” He asked her.

“Nope. That’s ok. You go ahead.”

He held the key against the keypad and once he heard the click, pushed down on the handle and opened the door. “After you and now I see you wanted me to open the door. So, you could get in first and take the chocolates from the pillow!”

Robyn was laughing as she walked into the room but again stopped misstep, Taron having to come to a sudden complete halt behind her. “You need to stop doing that Robyn.”

“Wow.”

It seemed to be their word of the hour as once again Taron repeated it. The room had a small hallway with a wooden wardrobe to the right of them and once they moved through the small walkway, it brought them into the actual room. Taron was prepared for Robyn stopping this time and side stepped around her. The room was a generous size and to their left, against the wall, a large king bed, with a wooden head board, white spotless sheets, duvet cover and pillows and two red decorative cushions. The cushions matched the long floor to ceiling curtains which hung in front of four wide glass panelled doors. In front of the bed, a light brown couch, four more red cushions adorning it. An oval coffee table with two glasses and jug of water sat on a large square mat in front of the couch. A very large flat screen TV was mounted to the wall at the right-hand side and underneath that a desk that spanned the length of the all and under the desk a fridge and mini bar. To the right of the TV was a mirror and under the desk at the mirror a very comfortable looking chair.

“This is beautiful.” Robyn walked into the room and dropped her shoulder bag and flowers on the couch. She made her way to the right and into the large bathroom which was decked out in white marble with grey swirled through it. A large oval mirror was sat on the wall over the sink and the shower had glass doors with two white dressing gowns hung on them.

“That my rainfall shower?” Taron asked as he stepped in beside her.

“I think so.” Robyn opened the doors of the shower. “Yep.”

“Fantastic. I have been looking forward to that since I heard there was one.”

“Your shoulders must be really sore Taron if you have been looking forward to this all week.”

“Just a bit. We were doing a lot of hand to hand combat scenes and I got knocked to the floor a lot, landing on my shoulders.”

“Maybe you should have brought your shoulder massage voucher.” She winked.

“Maybe I did.” He winked back.

“Well if not, you will have to make do with the shower then.” She laughed as she walked past him and back into the room noticing that the suitcases were just outside the bathroom door. “Hey our cases are here.”

“That is why they were taken when we arrived chicken. Our clothes are probably in the wardrobe too.”

Curious, Robyn walked back to the little entrance hallway and opened the wardrobe. On the railing hung the two garment bags. She was about to open Taron’s to look at his suit when he called her name, so instead she closed the doors and followed his voice. He had opened the balcony doors and was standing outside on the decking. She joined him and was tempted to say wow again but held it in. Their corner room gave them a slightly bigger balcony and they could see right over the whole fourth floor, the railing entirely covered with the vines giving them complete privacy from anyone looking up.

“I feel like we are actually outside even though we aren’t.”

“We were really lucky with this room. Right away from the bar. It will be nice and quiet here.”

“I want to have a go on those chair swings.” She said excitedly pointing towards the chairs handing from the metal chains.

Taron laughed. “You do have your own chair swing.”

“Yeah I know but it has been in my garden shed since the end of September. Can’t use it when the weather is shitty.” Robyn turned to lean on the railing. “Thanks Taron. This is amazing.”

“I didn’t do anything Robyn.”

“You invited me.”

“Because of a present you gave me for Christmas.”

“Because I wanted to do more things like this with you, to spend more time with you.”

“And normally this is where I throw in the part about how I am here because of you but I won’t because I know you are going to do that!” Taron laughed as she gently poked him in his side. He went to poke her back but as she moved and he threw his arms around her instead and hugged her close, giggling with her, smiling a little sadly as she yawned again. “How about that nap?”

“No Taron. Let’s go explore this place. I am dying to see what the other floors are like.”

“We have the whole weekend to do that Robyn. You are exhausted and I know you want to enjoy the evening tonight and if you are tired, you won’t be able to thoroughly do so.”

“But this is your weekend too. I don’t want to be sleeping when we are together.”

“Robyn, being here with you is all I need and I am happy to lay on this bed and get some rest too. It’s only ten in the morning. We have the whole afternoon to explore. Anthony is coming back to get us at six so we have time.”

As another yawn filled her whole body, Robyn nodded and agreed. She was extremely excited about going to watch The Prince of Egypt on stage and knew that even if she wasn’t too fond of taking naps, to be fully awake and on her game for the red carpet, a little bit of sleep would do her the world of good. They walked back into the room and Taron closed the balcony door and locked them too and turning around laughed as Robyn jumped backwards and landed on the bed with a bounce, one of the cushions falling onto the floor.

“It is comfy?” He asked as he pulled the curtains closed.

“Not as good as mine it will do.” Robyn turned and moved up the bed so she was laying on the left-hand side. She full belly laughed as Taron walked up the alongside her side of the bed and crawled over her to get to his side. “Ugh you’re a proper tosspot.” She giggled, pushing his legs off her, rolling onto her side so she could look at him as he lay on his back.

“But you love me.”

“Sometimes I wonder.” She replied enjoying the fake look of hurt he gave her. “Yes, I love you.”

“Right then. Nap time. Get over here.” Taron patted the edge of the pillow he was laying on and Robyn shuffled over to him and lay her head there. He reached for the TV controller on the locker beside him and turned it on.

As Taron flicked through the early morning programmes, Robyn snuggled a little closer to him, glad when Taron moved his arm so she could lay her head on his shoulder. Being close to Taron felt so natural to her now and it was just a warmth and comfort she couldn’t get anywhere else except from him. Her stomach twisted in knots and though she thought it was nerves as her appearance on the red carpet with Taron creeped closer, in her heart she knew it wasn’t. It was the true and honest love she knew she had for the man who was slowly running his hand up and down her left arm. She hoped he couldn’t feel her heart racing in her chest as she lay cosily against him. She couldn’t help the content little sigh that left her lips and nestling her face a little closer to him, she decided that if this was how good naps were, she would take one every day.

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Excitment #Plans #Fancy Fancy #Night out #Cuddles #Fancy Hotel #Sharing the finer things in life #Naps #Robyn and Taron

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