#Twin's Rising Band | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

idlerin · 7 months ago

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CAN I CALL YOU MINE?

celebrity!sakusa kiyoomi x f!reader

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

the ikarus incident (band au)

+ word count: 9.3k

content — you're the miya twins younger sister yes, essentially brothers bsf (thats if sakusa treats atsumu as a bff, tsumu says yes, still up for debate), in this au inarizaki is based in tokyo!, as usual can be read as a stand-alone despite it being part of a mini series :3, uhh light angst for now, reader has had a crush on sakusa since childhood, she has a fan acc dedicated to him and he knows abt it too lol. oh and four year age gap.

it seemed like everyone (well, mostly your brothers) was against the idea of you liking sakusa, even sakusa himself. although you'd do everything you can to reach him, impossible it may be.

“IKARUS’ SAKUSA KIYOOMI and Haiba Alisa dating rumors heat up after viral video claims evidence of lovestagrams,” you read out loud, eyebrows furrowing, “What the hell are lovestagrams?”

Despite knowing this was more than likely a case of false assumptions made by story-starved journalists, you continued to read the article trending in your circle.

Fans express a mixture of dread and joy for a potential romance between Haiba Alisa and Sakusa Kiyoomi as a trending tiktok video compiles ‘dating evidence’ of the pair’s relationship. The video meticulously pieces together videos and clips of the past three years of Haiba and Sakusa’s interactions that seem to hint at a deeper relationship between the model and the music artist. The account also pieces together instagram posts of the pair that insinuate that they were near or at the same place, sharing similar poses reminiscent of ‘lovestagrams’ shared by couples.

That was when you stopped reading. You clicked out of the tab to quote the tweet the article was attached to. Words such as ‘when has sakusa ever seemed like the type to plan an ig layout?’ and ‘isn’t it weird to say that two people are dating just because they looked at each other or breathed at the same place’ that you both deleted in place of saying ‘i’d be happy if this were true’—you would not—‘only if sakusa announces it. like he’s said so many times that if he were to ever be in a relationship he’d tell the media himself’. A couple of seconds pass before you get a notification.

leia @keijisrealgf · 1m Replying to @kiyominiscient ur so real oomf. sakusa hates gossip pages byeee 7:04 PM · Jul 3, 20XX

[name] | kiyo’s future wife (real) @kiyominiscient · 36s Replying to @keijisrealgf he’s like their worst enemy lol 7:04 PM · Jul 3, 20XX

leia @keijisrealgf · 6s Replying to @kiyominiscient hes more likely to date atsumu !!! 7:04 PM · Jul 3, 20XX

In the middle of typing out a reply, your door slams open harshly, “Oi, you better be ready, we’re leaving in thirty minutes,” the sight of your older brother, Osamu, in a plain shirt and jeans (which eerily reminds you of your father) makes you turn your attention to him, “You better still not be in pajamas.”

“Is it true that Kiyo’s dating Haiba?” you ask instead, tone in slight distress, rising from your lounge on the bed. Despite your reassurance for Sakusa’s other fans, you were more than less assured of anything. The last time you had a proper conversation with the man even through text was over a week ago, and he would never tell you if he was seeing anyone.

Osamu raised a brow, “How would I know if Kiyoomi was dating anyone? And Haiba? The model?”

“Yes, the model and I don’t know, does Atsumu not tell you or something? He would tell you if that were to ever happen, right? Right?” you were insistent. You knew your twin brothers had gossip sessions without you because of their weekly calls you walk into now that you’re temporarily staying with Osamu. You wouldn’t have wanted to sit through Atsumu’s girl problems anyway, he’d ask you directly for advice (he does this a lot) if he needed it.

“I guess so?” Osamu affirms, kind of.

“You didn’t notice anything when you visited their studio two weeks ago?” you ask, looking back at the dreaded day you scheduled a pilates class because you wanted to try it out and Osamu told you last minute when he dropped you off at the gym that he was going to the studio because Atsumu paid him to make food. You stood there, mouth agape, watching as your brother drove away, missing the chance to see the love of your life—what’s worse was Osamu did that because you would have asked to come with him, “Cause ‘Tsumu would never let him be! He’d be all up in his ass about it.”

Osamu contemplates your judgment of Atsumu, “Fair, he would do that. But I didn’t notice anyone acting differently last time I went.”

You sigh in relief, “Oh oka—��

“But doesn’t that mean if Kiyoomi were to get a girlfriend he would never tell ‘Tsumu?” Osamu thinks out loud, you froze at his glaringly correct answer, “Anyways, it’s none of our business. You’ve got to get over your silly crush on the guy. Now get up, you lazy bum.”

You frown before putting your laptop to the side after shutting it down—not forgetting to hit post on the reply—you stand up, patting down the white layered maxi skirt you were wearing and fixing the sides of your top before showing him your palms to show you were all ready before he starts to nag you, “Why would I ever be lazy with an opportunity to see Kiyo? I’ll just do my hair for a bit.”

Osamu blinks at you before sighing, already used to your comments about Sakusa, “Okay just do it quickly,” he says before leaving. You were staying with him while on vacation from university because you had nothing to do if you went back to your house. Your parents were currently on a three-month-long trip touring Europe, they should be back in a month or so, and you’d hate to be stuck in the dormitory without any company (your roommate and most of your other friends went back to their hometowns or abroad), so what was left was bothering one of your older brothers.

Your other brother, Atsumu, was too busy being a famous celebrity to house you. Alright, he’s not that mean, the reality was he was too busy moving out of his old condominium and moving into his shiny new penthouse to offer you a place to stay. Even if he did make an offer, you would choose to stay at Osamu’s any day because it meant you didn’t have to cook for yourself. As much as you were interested in Atsumu’s band activities, or more specifically, bandmate, you would not suffer through the horrors of living with him again even for only two months, you’ve had plenty of experience in that field. It’s not like Osamu wasn’t the same kind of horror, he is, just in a different font, but again, he can cook!

Securing the last strand of your hair and smiling at yourself in the mirror, you put your essentials in your handbag. Grabbing the bouquet of blue dahlias made out of paper you decided to make on a whim the past week once you found out Atsumu was hosting a housewarming party and Sakusa would most definitely be attending. You eye the three flowers you spent hours perfecting, you were badly hoping Sakusa would keep them this time. Unreachable. The meaning of the flower coincided with how you felt for him. You’ve had a slight obsession with flowers and their hidden meanings since you gave him a rose on his birthday a year ago.

You skip out of the guest room to see Osamu by the counter twirling his keys, he looks at the bouquet in your arms, you asked him if it looked pretty and he replied by muttering a ‘when the hell did you even get the time to do that’ before leading you out of his cozy apartment and heading to the parking lot. The drive didn’t feel like it was forty minutes, you were humming in excitement as you clutched your hand-made bouquet to your stomach on one hand as it sat daintily on your lap and scrolled through your phone on the other to read through the latest antics on twitter.

Soon enough you were thrown in to face the security check in at Atsumu’s new place, you kind of didn’t get it when Osamu was asked to show his ID when he said that he was Atsumu’s brother. Isn’t looking at his face already enough proof? But of course you get that it’s for security reasons, it was just funny to think about since they were literally carbon copies of each other.

You continued your humming until you were in front of Atsumu’s door, you quickly faced your brother, “Samu do I look okay?”

Osamu grunted out a yes (very unhelpful) as he told Atsumu through the phone to let you guys in. You stayed fiddling with the hem of your top when the door opened and you were greeted by Atsumu, his platinum blonde dyed hair one of the only clear distinctions he had with Osamu.

“Well if it isn’t my dearest beloved sibli—” you ducked under Atsumu mid-sentence, patting his back and absentmindedly saying a ‘yeah yeah love you too’. You were faced by nothingness, portraits and paintings but no sign of people, you do admit that his marble floors facing the skyline did pose a pretty view.

“If you’d let me finish my sentence, you would’ve known everyone’s out at the patio,” an arm was lurched on your shoulder, the same arm twisted you and angled you to the direction of open glass doors leading out to a private terrace where you spot familiar silhouettes. You heard Osamu’s footfalls follow behind you two. You couldn’t escape Atsumu’s hold and was forced to be etched at his side as he stood still on his main living area with no plans of moving anytime soon.

“She’s been restless for the past hour,” Osamu quips, sitting comfortably on a sofa chair and stretching, the comment makes you the subject of Atsumu’s jabs.

“Was it because you were excited to see me?” Atsumu grins down at you, using his free hand to murder the top of your head. You made a sound similar to a hiss as you tried to shoo his hand away.

You display your displeasure with a large frown, “I see you all the time through Samu,” you grumble.

“Gross!” Atsumu’s face scrunches and Osamu raises a threatening fist from his resting position, eyes closed and completely relaxed, “I meant seeing me, I raised you!”

“You were four when I was born,” you scrutinize, trying to get his arm off your shoulder and fail again, you kept glancing behind you where you would very much like to be at the moment, “And I do see you. On the trending page on youtube, tsu-tsu,” you chuckle at the latest nickname your brother was given because of his recent performance wearing a pink tutu. That specific performance of the band went to every corner of the internet because of the ridiculousness of their costumes (well mostly because of the ridiculousness of your brother too). You couldn’t help but think Sakusa still looked attractive wearing a colorful zebra print jumpsuit.

“I rocked that, didn’t I?” Atsumu smirked, unfazed by your obvious mockery.

“Can we go out now? Shouldn’t you be accommodating your guests or something, I’m hungry,” you groan, saying the last bit as an excuse, eyes drifting out again. You spot a head of wavy strands standing from the settee and going deeper into the corner of the patio, making your eyes widen, clutching your bouquet even tighter in anticipation.

Atsumu ignores you and glances down at your flowers, “My guests are just the guys and some other old friends, they can serve themselves,” he scoffs, giving Osamu a look, “And I’m hoping those flowers are for me.”

You made a noncommittal sound, taking the bouquet in your hands away from his view, “It’s not.”

Your brothers have always been unsupportive of your feelings for Sakusa ever since you voiced it out when you turned eighteen, hoping that confessing your feelings at that age would make them more accepting of it (spoiler: it did not). They kept acting as if it was just some phase because Sakusa was one of the first guys you’ve ever known, but you knew it was deeper than that. It wasn’t like your feelings showed up overnight, you’ve liked him ever since you were eleven and moved in the house next to the Sakusas. Your family moved because your father’s job required him to stay in Tokyo, it was a difficult decision moving so far away from Hyogo and everything familiar to you, adjusting took a while.

As an eleven year old, you were upset that you had to move away from all of your friends. You sulked for days and your brothers had to use petty tricks to get you to talk to them. Teasing and annoying you were their way to get you to respond, it was torture. They did what they did because you weren’t yourself for weeks, they were worried and didn’t know how to express it properly as stupid teenage boys.

Until one day your brothers annoyed you enough that you stormed out of the house, tears brimming in your eyes as you ran and ran till you tired yourself out. You saw a bench nearby and decided to sulk even more there. You were missing your friends and was frustrated because of your brothers, you cried your heart out for what felt like hours but were really just minutes. You were sniffling to yourself and wallowing in self pity when a handkerchief was suddenly in your blurry view. You look up at the owner holding it out to you, seeing an older boy looking awkwardly to the side, you observe what you can and the most you can make of him was his wavy hair and lean figure.

“This is my second lap in the area and you’re still sitting there looking pitiful,” his words were sharp and shouldn’t have been something said to a total stranger, you knew that much at your age, your shock from his attitude momentarily made the tears stop flowing.

“So? Aren’t you going to take it?” the stranger nudges the cloth to you again as you reluctantly take it to wipe your tears. You felt a bit better knowing a stranger cared enough to approach you, even if he was a bit rude.

You watch as the stranger starts to walk away, you inhale a sharp breath and with your quavering voice you manage to utter, “Uhm stay, please,” it was so soft that you thought he didn’t hear you for a moment.

But the stranger does stop in his tracks and looks back at you with a pointed gaze that should have been intimidating, he just stood there and you realized that he was waiting for what you had to say. Now with your less blurry gaze, you observed him more objectively. Noting how he was what you and your friends would say was a cute boy, you guessed he was around your brothers’ age.

Before you could say anything else, loud, obnoxious voices started shouting your name and running towards you. You watch in horror as your brothers approach and in your surprise, you hide behind the boy you just met. It took minutes of your brothers shouting their worry and claiming how stupid you were for running around in an unfamiliar place (which you wouldn’t have done if they weren’t being so mean in the first place!). That’s why you refused to go back with them, still using the stranger as your shield. The boy was obviously starting to get more and more irritated with each second that passed, he never asked to be in this situation when he was just doing a good deed for once.

That was when the twins finally acknowledged his presence and started questioning him, the stranger explained that he saw you crying at the bench and approached you to give you something so you would stop (he said this in an annoyed tone), and that he was about to leave when they showed up. The twins, especially Atsumu, were relentless and kept drilling him with stupid accusations like ‘Were you planning to kidnap her?! Huh!?’ when Sakusa at the time barely looked like he cared.

“Stop it!” you finally intervened, stepping out from your human shield, “Stop being so mean to him! You’re already mean enough to me,” you huffed, dramatically crossing your arms and glaring at your brothers. This made Atsumu quiet down, looking at you with a large pout on his face as if that would make you start thinking he deserved forgiveness.

“Hey, you know we didn’t mean it like that,” Osamu began, stepping forward and reaching a hand towards you—a supposed comforting invitation, “We’re sorry, so let’s go home.”

“I don’t want to,” your glare was still set, your stubbornness evident as you placed your foot down. It made both of your brothers groan, knowing when you were in your mood, you were in your mood, meaning, it’s going to take them a lot of convincing and bargaining.

“Hey,” the voice from behind you caught your attention, the chilly air was making a mess of his hair, “I don’t know whatever it is that happened but you should go home. It’s getting dark and you wouldn’t want to stay out here so late,” the stranger looks at his watch.

You contemplate it because he did have a point, and you were missing the comfort of your bed… “You’re right,” your shoulders slump and you mumble a small, “Fine.”

Atsumu cheers and you glare at him again before looking at the stranger who really looks like he wanted to leave, “What’s your name?” you finally ask.

Your brothers took your calm tone as a sign that they could approach you and they flocked to your sides as if making sure you wouldn’t run away again, they also waited in curiosity for the stranger to introduce himself.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi,” he says, “And you guys are…?” The twins introduced themselves, their guard down after deducing that Sakusa wasn’t a threat at all. You were a bit more shy when saying your name, you suddenly felt bashful because it was now just sinking in that this stranger-no-more saw you crying your eyes out like a baby.

Sakusa was saying his long-awaited farewell when Atsumu asked him if he lived around here and Sakusa said he was ten blocks ahead to the right, Atsumu’s exact words were ‘No way?! Us too!’. It turned into you guys walking towards your homes together with Atsumu leading the conversation with Sakusa, it turns out he was dead-set on making this guy his friend. You stepped back with Osamu and just watched as Sakusa pointedly shot down a lot of Atsumu’s statements, it made you laugh.

A couple of minutes later you guys find out that you lived right next to each other, another ‘No way?!’ from Atsumu. Osamu had to push his twin back into the house to get him—metaphorically—off Sakusa in his excitement.

You stayed out as the raven-haired opened his door, you exclaimed, “I’ll give you back your handkerchief after I wash it!”

Sakusa waved his hand as an answer, the action made another grin slip through your lips.

That began a series of countless encounters and moments with the family living next door and Atsumu successfully making Sakusa his friend (still up to debate, although he successfully roped him into forming a band with two other friends so that’s a success in making him a lifetime friend for sure). You’ve had off-hand conversations with Sakusa here and there but as the days passed you grew more and more self-conscious around the teen, until one day you found yourself looking in the mirror and admitting to your reflection that you have a huge crush on Sakusa Kiyoomi.

“I thought liking Sakusa was just a phase,” Atsumu sounded baffled, this brought you back to reality, “How many times do we have to tell you he’s too old for you?”

“He is not,” you defended, four years was practically nothing! You were twenty this year! Sure you’ve liked him since you were a kid and it was just a stupid crush back then but you weren’t a kid anymore and you still like him. Doesn’t that mean something?

“He’s practically ancient,” Atsumu says as if the person he was talking about wasn’t a few feet away. The heavy weight on your shoulders makes its presence known, you look at Osamu for help but he just stares at you because he agrees with Atsumu.

You grunt, “You’re literally the same age, are you calling yourself ancient?”

“What’s the hold up?” another voice joins, you all turn to look at Suna Rintarou holding a plate with pepperoni pizza, “Atsumu you need to buy more food, and before you say anything else Akaashi and Kita agreed that we do need more food. Oh! It’s little Miya, long time no see.”

You frown at the nickname, Suna insists on calling you that even though you’ve told him countless times that you had a proper name. He’s part of the same band Atsumu and Sakusa were in, he’s also the twins’ former schoolmate at Inarizaki High which was how they met in the first place, “Hi Suna,” you greet blandly, looking defeated.

“You’re looking more and more like the twins every day,” the corner of Suna’s lips raise in a smirk as your face contorts to an expression that could only be described as disgust.

“I will start crying, tell me you don’t mean that,” you use your free hand to cover your face in exasperation at your situation. You just wanted to see and talk to Sakusa! You don’t understand why your brothers were being such a pain by keeping you away from him (which they didn’t do before, they only started with this weird intervention when you confessed your feelings for Sakusa a year ago). It wasn’t like you were going to pounce on the guy as soon as you saw him! You still had some decency and respected his space.

“I give you a part of your allowance, little brat,” Atsumu sneers. Your extra meals and clothes you were only able to buy because Atsumu spoiled you with his music money flash before your eyes.

“Tell me you didn’t mean it as a joke,” you add to remedy your previous statement. It seemed to appease Atsumu enough but it didn’t warrant him setting you free.

“This is starting to get tedious, I think it’s been enough. Let her loose,” Osamu states, standing up with his hands crossed against his chest. In his words, you scowl even as Atsumu finally lets you go, you massage the part of your shoulder where Atsumu’s weight was pressed using your free hand.

“I’m not your little pet,” you point using your handmade blue flowers in the air, dragging them from Atsumu to Osamu, as if making the statement ‘I’m going to do whatever I want’. You huff as you turn your heels to see Suna’s amused face which you glare at as well before practically running towards Atsumu’s fancy terrace.

Not before faintly hearing Suna badgering Atsumu about more food as you slide out the glass doors and are greeted by the chill of the evening air. You made eye contact and greeted the three people seated around the gray L-shaped sofa. Akaashi on the furthest to the left—the main vocalist of their band, the one most of your friends had a crush on—and Atsumu’s closest former seniors back in high school, Kita and Aran, if you remembered correctly. You knew this housewarming party would only consist of a few people because Atsumu wasn’t exactly sociable, despite his obnoxious and loud demeanor. You were surprised to not see another face though, you briefly wondered if they had another fight. You shake those thoughts away and focus on what’s important. Greeting Sakusa.

His tall figure was leaning on the edge of the patio, keeping to himself as usual. You walked around the small table displayed in the middle, sidestepping the decorative plants. You were careful as you approached, not knowing what reaction you would get. Would he act again as if he didn’t know you had feelings for him? Ignore you? Treat you coldly? But you know Sakusa wasn’t like that, despite everything, you practically grew up together. You could never be a stranger, you hoped you’d never be a stranger.

“Miya,” you almost jump in surprise at him acknowledging you first. He’s always called you by your last name, you didn’t know why when he could call the twins by their first name just fine. It’s not like he doesn’t say your name or nickname sometimes too, he just chooses to call you Miya for some reason. It improved in some way, he used to call you ‘Little Miya’ like Suna did back when you were sixteen, and you complained enough about it that he stopped.

“Were you waiting for me?” you gave him a sheepish smile, braver, stepping closer until you were standing beside him. You didn’t wait for his response in case your heart gets crushed by his answer and instead showed him the blue dahlias, “I made these for you.”

Sakusa gives one glance at the paper flowers before meeting your gaze, you wait with bated breath for his response, “You didn’t get poisoned by the rotten apple fruit shake, then?”

You almost didn’t understand what he meant, then you remembered the series of texts you sent him a few days ago which he never replied to, so you thought he hadn’t read it. You almost pout at the thought that he just didn’t want to reply, but that was typical of him already, “It looked normal on the outside okay? I told you it was Samu’s fault, who in their right mind would keep those lying around in their homes—and you’re distracting me!” you accuse once you realized he was trying to change the topic.

The corners of his lips twitch and if you hadn’t grown up with him you wouldn’t have noticed that little change in his otherwise deadpan expression, you place emphasis on your gift once again by lightly shaking it. He takes another glance, a hand reaching out to gently nudge the delicate paper-made petals with his fingers, “How long did it take you to make these?” “Around three days,” you answer dismissively, waiting patiently for him to take it, “I chose to make a nonexistent flower eternal,” you boast, proud of yourself.

“You could’ve used that time for other things, enjoy your summer break,” Sakusa says offhandedly, turning to look at the view, “Don’t waste it making gifts for me.”

“Making gifts for you is not a waste, this is the only way I can show you that what I feel for you is sincere,” your brows furrow, “And I am enjoying summer break, I’ve done a lot of things already.”

“I know,” Sakusa sighs, you didn’t know what he was referring to. Your sincerity? Or that you’ve been spending your break to the fullest? You do update him through texts from time to time, you make sure not to bother him too much for fear that he starts finding you annoying like a lot of other aspects of his life.

To your happiness, he plucks the bouquet from your hands. You were then overcome with the irrational fear that he would drop it, which was silly, “Keep it in a vase, okay?” you ask, “Preferably somewhere like your countertop or in the lobby,” you began to suggest the most visible ways he could display it, your own little way of putting bits and pieces of you in his life.

“Why didn’t you come with Osamu when he delivered Atsumu’s food?” Sakusa asks instead, changing the conversation.

A small pout forms on your lips, “He left me,” you complain, “They’re on some weird pact trying to keep me away from you.”

“They mean well,” Sakusa says, a glint of amusement in his eyes, probably imagining the twins doing everything so you wouldn’t be able to make any advances on him, “You’re their only baby sister, of course they would be protective.”

You lean against the stone railing, looking out on the view, slightly upset, “I know they mean well, that makes it worse. It’s not like I can’t think for myself, I know what I’m doing.” “Do you?” Sakusa asks, adjusting his body to look at you properly.

“You said you’d let me try,” you mumble, looking back at the time you confessed to him and declared you would try to win his heart, that he should give you a chance. At the time, Sakusa looked surprised, never thinking of the possibility that you would develop feelings for him deeper than anything platonic.

“Because I thought you’d find some other guy your age you’d focus on more when you start university,” Sakusa lets out a breath, “I’m not the one for you, Miya.”

His statement stabs you directly in the heart.

“You don’t…” you gulp, a lump stuck in your throat, “...have to like me back,” you bit down on your lower lip, “Can’t you just let me like you?”

“You mean a lot to me,” ‘just not in the way you want me to’, you could almost hear Sakusa’s train of thought, “You’re young—”

“You are not that much older,” you practically groaned, that was always their excuse.

“And yet I’ve known and experienced more in life than you,” Sakusa states bluntly, “Be serious, Miya. What you want isn’t going to work, so get over me,” talking down on you.

Your jaw clenches and you raise your chin at him, even with his frame towering over you, “It’s not that easy, Sakusa,” it was petty, not using the nickname you’ve called him since you were a kid. Being petty by using his last name as if that would put more distance between you two. It wasn’t wise letting your emotions control you, and perhaps it was proving to him more that you were still too childish for someone who already presents himself to be so mature. Though it did give the point across, that you were seriously upset, watching as something flickers in his eyes as you turn on your heels away from him.

You decide to sit in between Osamu and Akaashi, Osamu was splayed on the couch talking to Suna who was on his left about stuff you hardly care about. Even if your brother does notice your foul mood, he doesn’t point it out. Atsumu walks in holding three more boxes of pizza with a delivery guy trailing behind him holding more drinks. Which consisted mostly of alcohol and a few juices, which was most likely for your benefit. You were allowed to drink but you never liked the taste of alcohol. You watch as Atsumu directs the guy to put it on the side and that’s when you lose interest, choosing to listen in on Osamu and Suna instead.

You were catching in on their topic, but you were mostly just confused. It looks like they’re talking about Osamu’s planned business. You know this one, the onigiri franchise he wants to start. He’s working a corporate job right now to save up for his restaurant-ish (you didn’t really know what to call it), he didn’t want to risk focusing on that immediately after graduating. You know he’s near his goal, you’ve been hearing talks about finding the right building and stuff. All this business talk almost distracts you from your previous state of anger.

“Can I sit there, Akaashi?” you don’t look up to see the one person you’ve wanted to see all night. You knew he was blunt, that was just the kind of person he is, and you were used to it. Doesn’t mean just because you were used to it and you liked him, that you were immune to getting your feelings hurt.

“Sure,” Akaashi says nonchalantly, he was just on his phone the whole time you sat here, he also probably noticed you weren’t in the mood which was why he didn’t attempt conversation. You see in your peripheral vision Akaashi offering to help Atsumu with arranging the food.

You continued to listen in on Osamu’s conversation, it was beginning to be difficult to ignore the presence next to you. Your body was always hyper-aware when he was settling down, it betrays your need for indifference.

In your view, a bottle of juice was presented, it was one of your favorite flavors, “Your drink,” his voice was closer, closer than you were when you were together on the ledge. It was so difficult to stay mad at him. This was his way of making amends, you knew, and it was hard to act like you didn’t like it when he paid special attention to you. When you take no action to take the drink, he places it on the table top in front of you.

“I’ll get you food,” he says, standing up and leaving the space beside you empty. It was natural, his knowledge of knowing exactly how to appease you. It makes you feel even more devastated knowing he’s just doing this because of his years spent on familiarness with you and your habits, usually, he’d be doing this after Atsumu or Osamu (or even both of them) did something to upset you. To him, you were still the shell of the child you used to be and that meant he still wouldn’t be taking you seriously.

That was partially your fault, you were still so… emotional and childish. You knew that, you were trying to work on it, really. Based on the way you acted just a few minutes ago, you’d have to work harder. Your gaze lands on the spot at the empty seat he was in where your blue dahlias rested, he decided to keep them after all. Your chest tightens in even more fondness. Osamu glances once back at you and you shove him away.

When Sakusa came back, you took the food he offered with no complaints and drank the juice he placed in front of you, murmuring a soft, “Thank you.”

“I heard you still have that fan account up, Rika says you play pretend there,” Sakusa mentions once he settles down beside you again, gauging that you were in the mood again to talk to him properly.

You were still a bit ashamed because of how you acted, which is why you replied hesitantly, “It’s not playing pretend, I’m genuinely a fan.”

“Rika says she saw some of your tweets acting like you didn’t know Atsumu,” Sakusa seemed amused at this notion which distracted you enough that you didn’t care Rika was technically stalking you. Komori Rika was Sakusa’s cousin who works for him as his assistant, you’ve met her a couple of times and you text her whenever you want to know if Sakusa was busy or not (so you would know if it was okay to message him). She was very sweet to you so you didn’t mind it that much.

“It’s not just online, I don’t tell anyone he’s my brother—mostly because they don’t ask. And my friends would start acting differently if they knew I was directly related to ‘Tsumu,” your nose scrunches. It does disgust you when one of your friends starts gushing over him, it is probably better that you never say that fact about your family relations because your friends would start being mortified remembering all the things they said about these guys.

Sakusa hummed, knowing that part of the reason why you don’t tell people you knew Ikarus and was related to one of the band members was because of your worry that people would start befriending you because of that. He was there when your high school friendships fell apart, after all.

“What’cha guys talking about?” Atsumu intrudes by sitting between you and Sakusa, your face contorts into another unpleasant expression as Atsumu makes his presence very known and very unwanted.

You give a look at Sakusa, silently saying ‘See? I told you so’ which he responds by giving Atsumu a once-over, “You’re half-sitting on my thigh,” Sakusa grunts at him, moving to the side to be free of your brother.

“Omi-omi my guy, you know our connection transcends beyond the naked eye,” Atsumu threw an arm around Sakusa’s shoulder as you rolled your eyes and took a bite of your pizza.

For the rest of the night, you never got the chance to talk to Sakusa one-on-one again. You’d try to start a conversation with him and Atsumu butts in with his own smart-ass answer unrelated to your question in the first place. Eventually, you gave up because you knew Atsumu wouldn’t back down. You stood up from your seat, earning a few glances from the men around you. When Atsumu asks where you’re going, you say you planned to raid his house. He lets you be and you take one look back at Sakusa who was getting bothered by Atsumu before stepping inside the living room again.

First, you walked aimlessly but your feet led you to the kitchen. You started opening Atsumu’s cupboards only to find them disappointedly empty. The fridge was your next stop, you open the freezer and find chocolate bars you gladly steal. You sat on one of the countertop stools, distantly hearing Suna and Atsumu’s laughter.

What can you do for Sakusa to take you seriously? Maybe you should distance yourself for a bit, make him miss you. You chuckle at the absurd thought, in your dreams. Though it would be okay to get some space away, you’re not giving up, not by a long shot. But you’ve never really given much thought to what Sakusa’s type was since he’s never dated anyone—no one that you know of—for the past almost decade of knowing him. During high school, he only cared about his studies and the band. Then in college—where you started seeing him less—you don’t know of him dating anyone. Maybe you should ask Rika? Or maybe Motoya? Since they’re the same age.

Having a plan decided, you hum to yourself, satisfied. Biting off the last piece of chocolate, you threw the wrapper in a trash can. Then you found that the drums Atsumu had displayed in the living room interested you, spotting a pair of drumsticks lazily thrown on a desk. You take these sticks and put one experimental hit on the cymbals. A stinging ring echoed in the room.

“Oi! You better be careful with that!” Atsumu shouts from the patio, but doesn’t storm in to take them from you so that must be a good sign.

When you were younger, he never even let you near his instruments. That made playing with his instruments even more desirable. Music has always been Atsumu’s thing—well, the playing instruments part, he wasn’t very blessed vocally, Osamu used to take lessons too but stopped because it didn’t interest him enough. Your parents tried to put you through music lessons, but after accidentally plucking off the strings of your guitar one by one, they decided that for your own safety, you weren’t allowed to touch instruments.

You can still clearly remember the day Atsumu brought the three other boys home and declared he was going to start a band with them. The only person that interested you back then was Sakusa, because you didn’t know he was musically inclined. You would sneak into their practices in the extra room in your house and would stay even when Atsumu would screech at you to leave. There were days when they went to Akaashi’s house to practice so you were left pouty because you were unable to come with.

Sometimes, Sakusa was the only one who would come to your house because Atsumu begged him enough to play with him. Those were the days you enjoyed the most because Sakusa let you stay with him and watch him play the guitar. You asked him once why he didn’t play the electric guitar in the band, he said that he preferred playing the bass because it was a more reserved position, they weren’t too loud but they were a vital part of giving soul to the art (his words, not yours). That made you respect bassists even though you knew nothing about the music industry.

It was the first time you saw Sakusa with that expression on his face—at peace—it made you think that this path really must be something he loved. You were overjoyed when his and the band’s efforts paved off, even though it meant seeing him and your brother even less. They became busy, too busy for you, but you’ve learned that it was nice seeing them trending and going viral. Your social circles began to talk about them and they fawned over you too for being Atsumu’s sister.

Of course, all good things come to an end and people who you thought were your closest friends just used you to get close to them. Sakusa was there during the fallout, he checked in on you and asked if you were okay. He even took you out to distract you in place of Atsumu, who had a brand deal scheduled at the time outside the city, and Osamu, who was also out of the district for an internship. Sakusa stayed with you as you cried and cared for you more than you could ever ask. Before that, you began to think your childhood crush on him was fading but that experience when you were seventeen was when you realized that your feelings for Sakusa never left even with the distance life took him, and it probably never will.

“I’m hopeless,” you mumble to yourself, letting go of Atsumu’s drumsticks.

It only took a few minutes for Osamu to call you saying you’re going because he still had work early the following morning, all the guys say their farewells to you two. Atsumu was a tad bit over-dramatic because he was a tad bit drunk. Osamu had to pull you away from Atsumu’s embrace. You met eyes with Sakusa, giving a smile reserved just for him before Osamu completely dragged you out, noticing you were quote en quote ‘making goo-goo eyes at the poor guy’.

The rest of your summer break was uneventful.

You managed to beg Osamu to take you to a pottery class on his day off, it was fun at first but Osamu showed extraordinary skill in pottery that made your work pale in comparison. You sent a picture of you two to the group chat you had with Atsumu and the latter spammed crying emojis and threatening gifs. On Atsumu’s day off you went to a bake-your-own cake store with him, his platinum blonde hair begged for attention so you forced him to wear a beanie the whole time.

The end of break was nearing and in your last week, your parents had gone back so you had a nice complete family dinner for once. The next few days you started to pack your things again because you had to move back into your dorm, were three suitcases and a large shoulder bag a bit excessive for a two-month stay? You’d like to think not.

You were posed with another problem though, Osamu couldn’t take you back to your university because he had some three-day team building thing he was going to a day before you were supposed to go back. You thought it would be okay because you asked Atsumu and he was free that afternoon, he said that he just had a promotional shoot in the morning but he would be able to pick you up, so you thought you were all settled.

On the day itself, you stood in the lobby of Osamu’s building when Atsumu sent a message. You were starting to get irritated because he was supposed to be here by four, he promised to be here by four.

annoying blonde brother 4:00 PM I CANT MAKE IT IM SO SORRY :<< I TRIED TO I SWEAR THE SHOOT IS STILL GOING ON I THOUGHT IT WOULD FINISH EARLY BUT WE APPARENTLY HAD SOLO SHOTS???

you 4:01 PM why do u hate me :(

annoying blonde brother 4:01 PM I DONT IM SORRY IM SO SORRY :<<<< HB U WAIT IN OSAMUS APT FOR A BIT?? ITLL ONLY TAKE AN HOUR MORE I THINK

you 4:02 PM i cant i alr locked the door and left the keys inside because you were supposed to be here by now.

annoying blonde brother 4:03 PM I KNOW I KNOW IM SORRY OK WAIT THERE IN THE LOBBY ILL GET SOMEONE TO PICK YOU UP

You frown as you sit on one of the lobby chairs, alone with the receptionist. You pull your two suitcases against your legs and hug your shoulder bag, having nothing better to do. You scroll aimlessly on your feed, it wasn’t like you could do anything but wait as patiently as you possibly can in your irritable state for this ‘someone’ Atsumu is roping in to help you.

annoying blonde brother 4:11 PM he’s on his way

Atsumu neglects to tell you who this ‘he’ is. How were you supposed to know who it was? You don’t question it further, not replying back, your own form of rebellion. How could he promise to pick you up and then tell you at the last minute that he couldn’t? He had major making up to do, that’s for sure, you were not going to let him off easily. With that final thought, you were already browsing for links to clothes you’d make him buy for you.

Thirty minutes passed and you were already getting bored out of your mind. You had your head buried in your bag when your phone buzzed, signaling that it received a notification. You almost dropped your phone when you saw who it was from.

kiyo <3 4:43 PM I’m outside Osamu’s building

Sakusa? Sakusa was the one Atsumu asked to pick you up? Unbelievable. Was it his way of making up to you? What? Huh? That doesn’t seem like something Atsumu would do. What? You were puzzled, but oddly happy.

Once you got yourself together you stood up, making sure to fix yourself up, looking at your reflection on the walls. You hurriedly gather your suitcases, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You talk yourself into calming down, since this was the first time you’d be talking to him in a while. You refrained from messaging him, practicing your self-restraint, but you missed talking to him so much, even when his replies barely held any substance.

Walking towards the pavement, your heels creating a clicking sound. You held your breath as you finally saw his familiar figure leaning against his sleek black ride, was it a new car? You’ve never seen it before. His hair was styled from their usual free curls and he wore a classy white button up that hugged his body nicely. He looked straight out of a magazine—which was probably exactly where he came from. He looked up at you and your luggage.

He started walking closer to you and all you could say was a breathless, “Hi.”

Sakusa reaches for your suitcases and you gladly let him take them, “Straight to your dormitory?”

“Atsumu asked you?” you asked once you got your thoughts organized coherently, it was a spectacle you still couldn’t comprehend.

You saw that same ghost of a smile on Sakusa’s face again, “He asked Akaashi and Suna first, but they were still doing their solo shots. He even tried asking our manager. I was the last person he asked, even though I was the first one to finish, he looked pained doing it too.”

That sounded more like Atsumu, a smile plastered on your face, “Even better, fate wants us to be together.”

Sakusa shook his head as he got your shoulder bag. You followed him as he put your luggage in the back of his car, he told you to get in and you complied, walking over to the passenger seat. Happy to use this as a way to spend more time with him, and catch up with what you’ve missed in the month and a half you made yourself Sakusa-free (that didn’t mean you had to stay away from the media though, he posted exactly one instagram post that you liked immediately), that was technically abiding by being contactless.

The seatbelt clicks into place and you wait for Sakusa to get inside, you are silent as he starts to drive.

“Thank you for picking me up,” you say, hoping to start a conversation. Your university wasn’t that far from Osamu’s, probably around thirty to forty minutes away, but you didn’t know how to drive and you didn’t want to take the train with all of your necessities.

“Do you need help bringing your luggage up once we’re there?” Sakusa asks, steering, your eyes following the movement of his hands. “Uhm,” you wanted to lie and say yes, “No, I don’t think so. We have an elevator, and it would be more troublesome for you because you’d have to sign a sheet to go in. You might run into a fan too, you might see your name trending again.”

“Okay,” was his only reply. He continued to drive silently as you moped while thinking of a way to start another conversation. Time was ticking and you hadn’t realized almost an hour drive could feel this fast, does the world hate you after all?

Your brain cells were saved when Sakusa spoke next, “Have you thought about it?”

“About what?” you rubbed your palms to keep warmth, confused by what he meant.

“Dating guys in your university,” he states plainly. Your mouth hung slightly as you were struck by the memory of your conversation out at Atsumu’s patio.

You purse your lips, gripping the edge of your leather seat, “Absolutely not.”

Sakusa surprised you yet again with what he said next, “I thought that was the reason why you weren’t messaging me.”

You gaped at him, disbelieving. You didn’t even think he would notice! Suddenly you were overcome with a burst of joy, “You missed me?” you sounded way too happy for your own good.

Sakusa went completely silent. You knew you weren’t going to get an answer out of him but you were still happy with the thought of him waiting for a message from you. It was likely enough to keep you happy to be simply looking out the window on the whole way to your dormitory. But of course, you don’t miss the chance to talk to him more. You asked him a few questions here and there like how the new album was holding up and the shoots and other important marketing stuff the band needed to attend to. He answered in short one-word answers and if you were lucky, a full sentence.

Your good mood toned down when you were on the street that led to your dormitory, knowing you’d have to say goodbye to him again soon.

“Why don’t you consider it?” Sakusa asks as he stops the car in front of your building, “Seeing other guys?”

It was a bit funny how your mood went completely sour, when you were brimming with happiness a few minutes ago. Your expression was passive as you say, “I told you, you’re the only one I like,” he was bringing this up again. He couldn’t get it through his head that you would only ever like him.

“You started liking me when you were barely a teen,” Sakusa references your confession to him, where you admitted that you’ve liked him ever since you met him, “You should give yourself a chance to look at other people.”

“You won’t even look at me,” your shoulders curled, you felt like your chest was caving in on you with how loud it beat. You wondered if he could hear it.

“You’re better off with another guy,” Sakusa insists, leaning against his seat, exasperated, as if you were draining the life out of him.

“So you keep saying,” you say in almost a whisper, “Is it because you’re already seeing someone?” you ask, your mind thinking of other possible reasons as to why he didn’t even seem to want to let you like him. If he were to say that he was, you’d stop. Even though it would hurt.

“No,” Sakusa sighs, completely turning off the engine.

“Then why can’t you even let me like you?” your voice almost cracks at the end. Your nails dug in your palm.

“Stop being stubborn, Miya,” Sakusa faces you completely, his jaw set, his eyes, the only tell for his actual emotions.

“Am I not pretty enough?” it was out before you could control yourself, you couldn’t even look him in the eye because of how ashamed you were at your question, “Sorry, I know you’re not the type to be shallow about appearances. But, of course you still have standards and that… might not… be me,” your voice getting fainter the more you talk.

There was a ringing in your ear, you felt lightheaded. Thinking of ways to remedy the situation, a sour situation you turned even more dour. You started feeling anxious in your seat, too bare, too exposed.

A touch was what got you out of your blinded stupor. A touch that was cold against your warmth.

“That’s not it at all,” a gentle hand raised your chin so you could meet his gaze, “You’re getting it all wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again, guilty you were letting him in your emotional frenzy.

“Don’t… apologize,” Sakusa began looking frustrated, his jaw ticking and his eyes shaky, “You’re beautiful, okay?”

You blinked, once, twice.

Despite all the signs that you weren’t dreaming, you still weren’t convinced this was your reality. Sakusa just called you beautiful. Sakusa told you, you were beautiful. Sakusa called you beautiful. No matter how many times you rephrase it in your head, it still felt unreal. You dumbly stared back, not knowing what to reply.

“I, uhm, o-okay?” you embarrassingly stutter out. Sakusa found you beautiful.

“I’m only looking out for you,” the hand still on your chin caressed your cheek. His words brought your senses back. You were afraid he was going on another tirade about how your affection shouldn’t be directed at him. That you should find some other guy to pour your heart out to. That no matter what you do, he would never be the one for you.

You nibbled on your lower lip, observing as his gaze fell down to it and back up to meet your unsteady stare.

“But…” you began, thinking of comebacks, reasons, anything, “I like you,” your eyes fluttered, in the end, that was the only thing that mattered to you, “So much,” your voice was fragile, and you could barely look at him straight.

You watched as his gaze sharpened, you waited seconds for a frustrated remark but it never happened. Instead, it looked like he was contemplating something. You waited, patient, willing to take whatever it was that he was willing to give you. And then finally, as if he couldn’t resist it, he tilted your head to the side and slowly, softly, lips barely grazing your cheek. Like his touch, it was cool, yet it gave you warmth all the same as heat rose to your face.

It was quick, and abrupt, and he let go of you immediately after as if your skin gave him burns.

Sakusa was tense as he opened the door and stepped out of the car. You gulped, your heart wanted to escape your chest, and you could hardly remember how to breathe.

Steadily—as steady as you can manage in your current state—and carefully, a hand went up to hold your cheek where Sakusa kissed you.

a/n — alright so i went a lil crazy with this one BUT MY EXCUSE IS i am in love with sakusa kiyoomi HES SO UGH mine

general taglist + @luvrsthrist @cherries4denki @cloud-lyy @misscaller06 @noideawhothatis @wolffmaiden @rivaiken @wooasecret @nicerthanu @sukunasrealgf @ris-krispie @seiamor @electriclovei @leeknowsarchive @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @sexyandcringe @rinheartshyunlix @wh0zumy2k @iluv-ace @xiakyo @sanaexus @clyches @noble-17 @renardiererin @gra-eae @ilyless @girlincrimson

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osohchoso · 11 days ago

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Kitten Whiskers

First Time CatDad!Gojo x F!reader

because I can't resist a hot man with a cat

Content: reader works at an animal shelter, no use of y/n, some fluff, sexting, oral (f receiving), fingering, aftercare

CatDad!Gojo who waltzed into the animal shelter 10 minutes before closing time without a care in the world, marching straight up to the desk you were sitting behind and announcing he was here to bring home a furry companion.

CatDad!Gojo who won't take no for an answer when you tell him to come back tomorrow morning, fluttering his long white lashes and sticking out his bottom lip in an adorable pout as he begs. His mouth curling into a satisfied smirk when you finally give into his charms.

CatDad!Gojo who swears he just found his feline twin, a long-haired white kitten with eyes as blue as the sky, one little paw darting out of the cage in an attempt to catch his attention as he passes by.

CatDad!Gojo whose mind is made up the moment you spill the poor little cat’s sob story, all his littermates adopted out, leaving him alone in the shelter. Overlooked by potential families due to his blindness.

CatDad!Gojo who looks a little too cute as his fingers scratch the fluffy chin of his new son, making your heart throb at the sight.

CatDad!Gojo who then proceeds to tell you he doesn't know the first thing about owning a cat after all the adoption paperwork is signed. He listens intently as you explain the basics yet still insists on exchanging numbers in case he needs your help in the future.

CatDad!Gojo who stays up way past midnight texting back and forth as you tell him all about your own pets.

CatDad!Gojo who then asks for a picture of your own kitty, knowing you'll understand that he doesn’t mean a photo of your cat. When you happily oblige, he makes sure to return the favor, snapping a picture of his long fingers wrapped around his girth.

CatDad!Gojo who calls you in a panic the following evening, claiming the cat hasn’t moved all day, requesting you come to his house immediately to check on it. When you arrive, the little white fluffball is curled up in the center of his bed, sound asleep without a single cause for alarm. You begin to suspect that he fabricated the entire situation just to get you to rush over.

CatDad!Gojo who insists you stay a while since you came all this way for nothing, leading you to the couch and finding a movie for the two of you to watch. He offers you a candy from the glass bowl on the coffee table, popping a strawberry-flavored one into his own mouth.

CatDad!Gojo who has his lips pressed to yours in the next second, his hands soft as they caress your warm cheeks and his tongue sweet as it seeks dominance inside your mouth.

CatDad!Gojo who kisses a path down your neck to your collarbone, peppering your skin in gentle love bites that have you gasping for more.

CatDad!Gojo who is now on his knees in front of you, sliding the skirt of your dress up further and further until it’s bunched around your waist. Cock twitching in his pants as his lips press tender pecks to your clothed cunt, tasting the arousal seeping through.

CatDad!Gojo who peers up at you with his glacial blue stare, watching the rise and fall of your breasts as you anticipate his next move. His slender fingers hooking around the band of your underwear and tossing it aside.

CatDad!Gojo who starts with feather-light licks, the tip of his tongue just barely dipping into your heat, not fully giving in until you're begging. Your hips bucking against his face in attempt to take matters into your own hands, pleading him to give you more.

CatDad!Gojo whose tongue is now plunging deep inside as he devours you, deciding he prefers your rich flavor to any other sweet he could have.

CatDad!Gojo who tries to ignore the throbbing underneath his boxers when he hears the way you purr “Satoru”. His tongue circling your sensitive bud as he pumps two long fingers in rapid succession.

CatDad!Gojo who hums when he sucks on your puffy clit, sending vibrations running through your whole body, his fingers curling against the sweet spot and transforming you into a trembling mess.

CatDad!Gojo who didn’t care that you were practically suffocating him as you clench your thighs around his head, nails clawing at the scalp hidden beneath his snow-white hair while you mewl his name, completely lost in pleasure.

CatDad!Gojo who laps up every drop of your release, eyes locked with yours as his tongue swirls around the fingers that were inside you only moments ago.

CatDad!Gojo who is so gentle afterwards, using soft touches to clean you up once you came down from the high. Offering you something to drink and a change of clothes before wrapping a blanket around both of you on the couch.

CatDad!Gojo who is happy as can be, nose nuzzling the crook of your neck as he snakes his arms around you, holding you close to him. A flash of white fur catches his eye as the tiny kitten leaps into your lap, little paws kneading on your thigh before finally settling in for another nap.

CatDad!Gojo who sneaks another kiss on your cheek, finding it cute how quickly you drifted to sleep in his embrace. Smiling to nobody but himself as he realizes you already have him wrapped around your finger.

banners by @adornedwithlight

Visit my masterlist to explore my other fics :)

Never thought I would see the day where I wrote something about Gojo, but here we are

back to your regularly scheduled Choso later this week😉

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rueclfer · 13 days ago

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evergreen

𖤓 part viii. | series m.list | prev | part ix.

you weren't sure how things got to this point.

with one hand, you were clutching onto a fitstful of touya’s t-shirt and in the other you had your fingers wrapped around his outer forearm as it slung over your shoulder.

touya's body weight threatened to drag you down with him as you two stumbled through the woods. with his phone flashlight haphazardly swinging in all directions in his loose grasp, you could only hope you were heading towards the right direction.

"move your fucking feet, touya," you groan, dragging him forward.

"the fuck do you think i'm doing?" he slurs, accidentally kicking the back of your foot for the third time.

you felt hot against the side of his body at all points of contact. your palm was burning against his waist as were your fingertips wrapped around his wrist.

it's fine. it's fine. it’s fine

how did a couple shots turn into another quarter of that handle of vodka? how were you somehow managing fine?

the first time you gotten drunk at camp was during your last summer. hawks and touya made it a tradition to sneak in a bottle or two since you were fourteen, but it wasn't until you were seventeen when tomura was old enough to be invited to partake and the weight of peer pressure had finally cracked you.

that night, you were met with your creator in the woods behind hawks' cabin at an ungodly hour with a blanket hung over your shoulder and touya holding back a fistfull of your hair.

"everyone's first time is like this, don't be embarrassed." he assures, biting back laughter.

"did i ruin it?" you drunkenly sob over a pool of your own vomit.

“no, you were perfect.”

at least this wasn’t that.

you could’ve at least enjoyed this experience and been a bit tipsy, but the responsibility of dragging touya of all people back to your beds was harrowing enough to sober you up.

"my phone died." he groans.

"yeah, i can tell," you huff, staring at the ground in darkness.

"i'm scared."

"of the dark? you're a twenty three year old grown man, babe," you scoff "i'm sure the woods are more scared of you than you are of it."

"in the dark. in the woods. alone. with you." he hiccups.

"i don't bite."

"wish you did."

you hear the smirk in his voice- the familiar teasing tone that never failed to twist your stomach and make your throat go dry. you don't respond.

the buzzing of your cabin's porch light called out to you like an applause at the finish line and you swore you've never been more excited to be reunited with a rock hard twin sized mattress.

“you’re gonna have to walk up a couple steps, okay?”

you pull him closer to you. how cruel would it be to leave him on the front steps of the porch if he doesn’t cooperate? of course you’d bring him a blanket and pillow. it’d be nice to be woken up by the rising sun wouldn’t it?

“heard.” he mumbles, resting his cheek against the side of your head.

you curse to yourself once your cold hand meets the warmth of skin where his t-shirt had ridden up his waist.

you almost reflexively rip your hand away until your fingers twitch against the sudden divide between soft flesh and unfamiliar rough thick grooves running up his torso.

your eyes dart back and forth between the concentration sewn in his furrowed brows, and the front door just steps away. your fingers freeze in place. touya’s focus remains down at his feet. he doesn’t notice.

you let your fingers press into his skin as you help him keep balance up the steps. your index and middle finger push against thick rubbery skin as your ring and pinky finger sink into soft flesh. you don’t know what to make of it.

once you two practically fall into the front door, you think about giving him a glass of water, and laying him on his back. you could let your hands glide up his torso, bringing the ratty band tee up over his head and onto the ground, and you could look at him. really look at him.

that white hair he used to complain about and slather in black hairdye had grown past his ears. did you stop dyeing you hair because you lost the only person you’d let touch it?

he added a few new piercings to his collection. did you do these yourselves again?

his cerulean eyes still has that gleam to them. i still recognize you.

this is the first time you’ve let yourself think about him all day. every time he crossed your mind since your meeting this morning, you’ve been quick to chased it off with a distraction. maybe you were drunk, because for the first time in years, you’re wondering besides the obvious, what’s changed?

a lot could happen in five years. new people. freak accidents. it’s all inevitable.

maybe it's nothing.

a/n: somehow leaning towards canon adjacent dynamics and snippets eeeeeeep and i also feel like we r finally moving the story along kinda sorta so yaay

tags:

@iluv-ace @bitchyfestivalbouquet @redr0sewrites @babylambdietcoke @bnhabadass @hanmastattoos @1ndee @starsryi @nesrynsblog @twoplayergaymers @suksatoru @ita606 @pookiebear16 @fictionalcharactersownmyheart @in-the-marina-trench @haruhi269 @itgetzweird08 @ilophilia @chimimon @emluvs-sugu @punishblue @whorror-complex @akumakitsune21 @maddie-rose-1 @ixeyi @commonmisery @ggriwm @exselily @kryscent @starrmage @vannyinthestars @burnishingbagels @soobhns @kaybug88 @lantsovheiress @0skullyard0 @albakugo @sleepyk0dyz @blu3-l0v3r @bakugouswh0r3 @kaldurahms-lover @thoughtswithbbg

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charlott2n · 2 months ago

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Charlotte Genre Guide

My top 5 favorite/recommended albums from each of my favorite genres!

Stoner/Doom Metal

Master of Brutality by Church of Misery (2001)

Variations on a Theme by OM (2005)

Blood Lust by Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats (2011)

Soma by Windhand (2013)

Book of Rituals by Saturniidae (2023)

Dream Pop/Shoegaze

Love Songs for the Chemical Generation by Daniel Land and the Modern Painters (2009)

The Glow by Gold Celeste (2015)

Lucid Express s/t (2021)

Daydream Twins s/t (2022)

A Fusion of Two Hemispheres by Sphere (2022)

Vaporwave

无限渴望 by Virtual Dream Plaza (2016)

一人で by desert sand feels warm at night (2019)

Soul Visioning by MindSpring Memories (2021)

Dream Desert by desert sand feels warm at night (2022)

Desert Memories by desert sand feels warm at night & MindSpring Memories (2023)

Psychedelic Pop

The Satanic Satanist by Portugal. the Man (2009)

Multi-Love by Unknown Mortal Orchestra (2015)

Skiptracing by Mild High Club (2016)

Jinx by Crumb (2019)

Raw Honey by Drugdealer (2019)

Psychedelic Rock

Parachute by The Pretty Things (1970)

In the Mountain in the Cloud by Portugal. the Man (2011)

Nonagon Infinity by King Gizzard (2016)

High Visceral Pt 1 by Psychedelic Porn Crumpets (2016)

Face Stabber by Thee Oh Sees (2019)

Progressive Rock

Shine on Brightly by Procol Harum (1968)

Lizard by King Crimson (1970)

Crime of the Century by Supertramp (1974)

Hope by Klaatu (1977)

blomljud by Moon Safari (2008)

Hard Rock

Black Sabbath by Black Sabbath (1970)

The Man Who Sold the World by David Bowie (1970)

Restrictions by Cactus (1971)

Satori by Flower Travellin' Band (1971)

Pieces of Eight by Styx (1979)

Rap

Licensed to Ill by Beastie Boys (1986)

3 Feet High and Rising by De La Soul (1989)

The Low End Theory by A Tribe Called Quest (1991)

6 Feet Deep by Gravediggaz (1994)

Shade of Blue by Madlib (2003)

Funk

Hot Pants by James Brown (1971)

Fantastic Planet Soundtrack (1973)

Standing on the Verge of Getting it On by Funkadelic (1974)

Hustle With Speed by The J.B.'s (1975)

Directstep by Herbie Hancock (1979)

Jazz Rock

Chicago Transit Authority by Chicago (1969)

Aja by Steely Dan (1977)

Junta by Phish (1989)

A Thoughtful Collapse by Vathaken (2020)

Middle Hand by Tytus & The Left-Handers (2024)

Jam Band

Rhythms From a Cosmic Sky by Earthless (2007)

Summer Sessions Vol. 2 by Causa Sui (2009)

Solar Corona by The Machine (2009)

The Doomsday Machine by Electric Moon (2011)

299 by Bull of Heaven (2013)

Disco

I Remember Yesterday by Donna Summer (1977)

Dazzle by Dazzle (1979)

Hills of Katmandu by Tantra (1979)

Tako Tsubo by L' Impératrice (2021)

Chorus by Mildlife (2024)

#JEEZ #takes a deep breath #that took much longer than i thought it would <3 #music talk

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pixelnrd · 2 months ago

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Mac made their way to Del Sol Valley. Their deep google searches had brought up Eleanor Dreyfus as a child popstar in The Dreyfus Family band with her sister, mother and father. But the real golden nugget they had found was about Leonard Dreyfus - frontman of Lenny and the Rollers.

Mac entered the record store on the mainstrip of Del Sol, and headed to the retro rock section at the back. Front and centre were records made by Leonard Dreyfus, both as part of Lenny and the Rollers and as a solo artist. They looked at the records and could hardly believe it - of course they had heard of Lenny and the Rollers. But they had never thought that Leonard Dreyfus was their great-great-great-grandfather!

The internet was a wealth of information on Leonard and his family. Mac read all about the rise and fall of his musical career, his marriage to actress Valerie Shepherd, their twin daughters Daphne and Eleanor who had toured as part of the Dreyfus Family Band. The scandals and the drama that had plagued their lives. No wonder Eleanor had decided to run away to become a hippy.

Their investigation took them to the hills of Del Sol, where an online map to the stars had guided them to find the historical and revered mansions of the rich and famous. Following their map they arrived in front of a mid century marvel - the apparent home of Leonard Dreyfus and his family, still here after all the decades.

Mac stood in front of the house and popped in their earbuds to play a Lenny and the Rollers song to fully immerse themselves in the moment. Here they stood in the exact same place as their famous ancestors.

#sims 4 decades challenge #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 historical #ts4 historical #ts4 legacy #sims 4 legacy #the langston legacy #gen 12 #2010s #mackenzie prescott jones #eleanor dreyfus #daphne dreyfus #leonard dreyfus #valerie shepherd

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earthchica · 2 months ago

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Use Your Heart

terry richmond x black, fem! oc { amara hawthrone }

summary: after seven beautiful years together, building a life, and creating a family, the relationship comes to an end when Amara grows tired of waiting for Terry to propose.

warnings: ANGST, break up, mention of pregnancy, marriage, regret, past heartache, sad! terry, past relationship, original characters, twin daughters, words: 4k

note: this is my first OC fic, I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part.

{ playlist } use your heart by swv I get lonely by janet jackson my love lingers on by peter sivo band

Part 2

Terry Richmond and Amara Hawthrone have been together for seven beautiful years. They met as recruits for a secret agency named S.A.G.E.

The competitive tension between them was palpable, but as they collaborated on numerous missions, that rivalry blossomed into a deep and enduring love.

After three intense years as spy agents, they decided to take a long hiatus from work when they discovered they were expecting their first child togather.

Later, they learned they were having twins, two healthy baby girls. Fast-forward a few years, and Terry and Amara settled in the vibrant city of New Orleans.

Embracing the joys of parenthood and raising two beautiful four-year-old daughters. Their life seemed great, filled with happiness, laughter, and love.

However, Amara started to reflect on her life, and she longed for something she didn't think would happen. Amara was an outspoken woman; she always spoke her mind and told anyone how she felt.

Lately, she's questioned many things about her and Terry's love and relationship. She had to express her feelings, the burn inside her heart.

Amara's POV

I smiled happily, watching the twins take their afternoon nap peacefully and adorably. I closed the door and went to the living room to find Terry watching TV.

Terry smiled at me with warmth and sweetness. "Are they napping?" he asked, motioning for me to sit on the couch. I nodded and sat down next to him.

"Yeah, out like a light," I said with a smile. Terry nodded and turned his attention back to the TV, laughing. I followed his gaze, and "Living Single," our favorite show, was on.

I turned to my head to examine his face. "T, can I ask you something?" I asked. "You can ask me anything, baby?" Terry said, gently wrapped his arm around my shoulders with a warm smile.

"Do you love me?" I asked gently, reassuringly. Terry tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing as he focused intently on my eyes, searching in my expression.

"Yes, baby, I love you with all my heart and soul. I remind you how deeply I do every day, right?" he asked, waiting for my answer, and I said, "You do, Terry."

"And do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?" I added another question. "Yes, yes, of course. What's going on?" Terry asked with concern.

"I'm just asking because it's been seven years of us being togather, and you haven't popped the question. How long are you gonna make me wait?" I asked, crossing my arms.

“Oh....I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Terry said, his voice softening. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I’m dragging my feet. I got my reasons, you know?”

I crossed my arms tighter, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “Reasons? What reasons, Terry? Seven, seven years of us being together, you never expressed your reasons."

I lifted myself from the couch and started to pace back and forth, my mind racing as I struggled to find the right words to protect his feelings but...

The room felt tense, and I could sense Terry’s concerned gaze. "You know you always talk about wanting more babies, but never once have you said you want to give me your last name?”

“Baby, look, I wanna get married, especially to you, but I'm not sure I'm ready yet?” Terry expressed straightforwardly, and my eye twitched a little.

“Not ready? What more do you need?” I shot back, my voice rising. You’ve seen me at my best and my worst. We love each other, and we are financially stable." I trailed off, taking a breath.

"...We have a house, and we're a family, and we've built a fucking life together. We're practically already husband and wife. Why can't we just make it official!"

Terry remains silent, simply listening. This lack of engagement truly frustrates me. I would prefer he share his thoughts or feelings rather than allow me to dominate the conversation.

"So what's stopping you, Terry? You act like the idea of getting married is some kind of weight you can’t handle. Just tell me the real reason. No excuses about needing time; time is running out,” I added.

“Look, I said, baby, I want to get married to you, but it just has to do with something in my past that's been-,” Terry starts with hesitation in his voice.

My heart jumped, and I sat beside them and touched his hand. His eyes hardened, fighting back and forth about whether to open up with me. "Terry, baby, whatever it is, you can trust-"

"No, just drop it!" Terry says, raising his voice. I removed my hand and stared at him, the hurt evident in my eyes and my voice shaking with emotion.

"Okay, then..."I said, getting up and moving towards our shared bedroom. Terry covered his face with his hands before getting up and making his way to her.

"I think we should take time apart. I can’t wait for you to decide if I’m worth being your wife when I've proven it, ” I said as I finished packing some clothes into a bag."

“Wait, what do you mean, time apart?” He stepped forward, desperation creeping into his tone. “I just mean what I said,” I replied, my tone not softening.

“Cause it feels like I’m the only one wanting something you don't want. And that’s not fair, Terry. You gotta figure it out whatever is haunting you.” I said, going to leave the bedroom, but he stopped me.

"I don’t want to lose you, Amara. I love you more than anything, and we can work through it; you're making an irrational decision right now," Terry said, desperation creeping into his voice.

“I'm not, Terry. You need to take some time to figure out your issues, which may mean being away from me for a bit,” I replied, my heart racing with sorrow and uncertainty.

Terry stepped closer, closing the distance between us, and pressed his forehead against mine. I felt his soft touch as the tears streamed down my cheeks, heavy with emotion.

He inhaled deeply, taking in my sweet, familiar scent that always made him feel safe. "Please, let’s talk this through, baby," he pleaded, his voice trembling with raw vulnerability.

I searched for the right words to respond, but no sound came out, leaving me in silence as I struggled to process everything. I walked out of the bedroom, the weight of my decision heavy on my shoulders.

Terry reached out, stopping me again before I could reach the twins' bedroom. He grasped my hand tightly, his fingers trembling against the warm, dark brown skin of my hand.

I looked into his greyish-blue eyes, which glistened with unshed tears and reflected a mix of desperation and sadness. His gaze searched my beautiful hazel-brown eyes.

Trying to find a spark of hope or a reason for me to reconsider. "Please!' Terry's voice quivered as he made one last heartfelt plea. Despite his earnest effort and the thick in the air, I knew I had to let go for now.

A few months later, I found myself in a stressful state that I had kept hidden for the twins' sake. This whole breakup was quite heart-aching.

I especially despised explaining the recent changes in our new living situation to my daughters. Sophie and Odette's curiosity was challenging, and I struggled to find the right words to comfort them.

Now that Terry and I are no longer together, I only communicate with him about the twins and establish effective co-parenting. I'm not the type of mother who prevents the children from seeing their father.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Terry had arrived to take the girls for the weekend and mentioned wanting to take them to the park for a picnic.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't hear what he said. "Do you want to come?" Terry asked with a hopeful smile. "Terry, no. I'm fine," I replied, shaking my head.

"You go and have fun with the girls. They miss you," I added with a small smile while handing him their stuff. "Right!" He nodded, taking the stuff out of my hands with a disappointed look.

I sighed, noticing his expression, but shook my head and went to get the girls. They ran out of the bedroom towards their daddy, and Terry knelt to greet them.

Their faces lit up like sunshine breaking through clouds. “Hey, there, my princesses!” he said, pulling them into a warm embrace. They giggled in delight, their little arms wrapping around him tightly.

“Daddy!” they squealed in unison, pulling away from the hug to look at his face. “Are we going to the park?” Odette asked with a tooth missing in her grin.

“Of course! yeah, and I've got the whole weekend planned out for us,” Terry replied, his smile infectious. “Mommy, are you coming too?” Sophie asked, looking at me as her voice was laced with hopefulness.

I stepped in to keep the atmosphere light, even if my heart felt heavy. “No, baby girl, Mommy’s got some stuff to do today,” I said, keeping a steady tone.

"Yeah...that means it’s all about three of us today! We’re gonna have a blast,” Terry said, caressing their twist-braid hairstyle. They giggled again, their joy bubbling.

“Mommy, are you sad?” Odette asked, her big hazel eyes wide with concern, and I knelt beside her, cupping her cheek and keeping my expression warm.

“No, Dotty, don't worry about me. You go have fun with your Daddy. I'm fine, I promise. Plus, I'm a call away if you need anything, okay?” I explained.

“Okay, Mommy!” they chirped, reassured. Terry gave me a gentle look; the tension between us was still palpable but softened by the girls’ laughter.

“Are you all ready to go?” he asked playfully, extending his hand towards them. They squealed with excitement and bounced on their toes as he led them outside.

I waved goodbye by the front door. “Have fun, you three! Don’t forget to take lots of pictures!” I said with a fake smile. “Will do!” Terry replied, shooting me a glance.

For the sake of the girls, we both put on brave faces, knowing that they deserved the best from their parents, even though we still had work to do in co-parenting.

With one final wave, they drove away. I closed the door behind me, walked to the couch, and sat down, staring into space until I bursted into tears.

It's been four months since the breakup, and I felt increasingly miserable as each day passed. I continued to hide my pain behind a fake smile.

My love for Terry had not changed; it remained unwavering. I had devoted seven years to that man, and I often wondered if I had been more patient; perhaps things wouldn't have turned out this way.

I found myself alone, cursing his name, feeling an intense wave of resentment as I reflected on how he never communicated his actual issues about getting married.

It seemed like he buried his fears deep inside, leaving me to guess this hesitation alone. I thought about the situation, considering the pros and cons.

On the positive side, Terry was undeniably a fantastic boyfriend. He was a loving, sweet, reliable, thoughtful, responsible, and faithful man.

Of course, he was an amazing and loving father to our kids. However, despite these admirable qualities, doubts crept into my mind, and his communication on this one thing frustrated me.

Yet, I often questioned whether ending our relationship was the right decision or if I had acted too impulsively. The more I pondered, the more I was drawn to the negative parts.

I took a moment to clear my mind, pushing away the swirling thoughts that occupied my head. Just then, my friend Aisha knocked on the door.

She stepped through the door with a warm smile, and her vibrant energy instantly filled the room. Her presence lifted my spirits and created a sense of comfort.

I opened up about what's been going on with me, the breakup, and Terry, and she was honest. "Look, I get it but you gotta let that man go, Amara. You know your worth."

I sighed, running a hand through my long, curly hair. "I know, I know. It's just hard. We spent seven years together, and the love is still there. I miss him, I miss us, I miss our family, And now…"

Aisha nodded, her expression softening. "You gotta focus on you and your daughters. Let him figure out his issues; if he really wanted you, he'd be fightin' to keep you, not out here doing whatever."

"Maybe...you're right," I said, a little fired up by her words. "But it just stings, you know? I keep thinkin' back to the good things, and I wonder if it was wrong to end it."

I added, "Like, what if he finds someone better? What if-?" I trailed off, not trying to finish that thought. Aisha grabbed my hand, looking straight into my eyes.

"Listen, ain't nobody better than you, Amara. You're a whole baddie; you have to believe that. I'm sure when Terry gets shit together and hopefully comes correct." Aisha said honestly.

"You deserve the whole package: the husband, the ring, and the last name. You are wifey material," she added. "You're right," I said, pulling myself together.

"I know. How about we put on some music, drink wine, and vibe?" she said, pulling a wine bottle from her bag and making me laugh for the first time in weeks.

Meanwhile, Terry settled into his parents' cozy living room, and giggles echoed off the walls. His twin daughters were sprawled on the floor.

Lost in a world of toys and laughter with their grandpa, who delighted in their antics. Terry leaned back on the couch, his mind heavy with thoughts of Amara.

Terry stared at a picture of the two of them; he missed her so much and knew he had messed up badly. His mother noticed the distant look in his eyes.

She paused her knitting and looked at her son, who was staring at his phone intensely. “Terry, are you alright, baby?” Terry took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face.

“No, Ma. Things ain’t been easy since the breakup with Amara, I messed up.” He expressed, looking at her, “No, shit, son,” She started, her voice gentle but firm.

“You need to go talk to her and stop this foolishness. Tell her the truth, and stop letting the past weigh you down. It's not fair to Amara.” His mother said.

Terry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck while glancing at Sophie and Odette, who giggled as their grandpa pretended to be a monster. “I know. I know I’m just….”

His mother set her knitting aside, leaning forward, her eyes sharp. “Terrance James Richmond, Look at me," he said, looking back at his mother with despair.

“You gotta talk to Amara, baby. Tell her about your past relationship with Leia; she deserves to know. You can’t just be sittin’ here all mopey when deep down, you know you gotta be honest with her.” She says.

Terry shifted uncomfortably, covering the scuffed beard he'd been growing with his hand.

"I know, Ma, but....you know my history with Leia left me hurt; it took me a long time to heal and trust again. I buried what she did deep in my mind. It’s just... complicated."

“Whether it’s complicated or not, you have to be honest with her. Amara deserves to hear the full truth, no matter how difficult it might be to share, baby,” his mother urged gently,

Her voice softened as she spoke, knowing how heavy the burden of secrets could be. She hoped Terry would understand the importance of transparency in his relationship with Amara.

“What Leia did to you, that’s more than just a scratch on your heart; it’s a deep wound, and holding onto it ain't help you move forward with Amara." His mother said.

She added, "You two have been together for seven years. That’s a long time, son. You can’t let your past ruin what could be something beautiful now.”

Terry sighed, glancing down at the floor. “I just...I don’t want her to see me as weak or broken. I don’t want her to think...." He trails off, trying to hold his emotions.

“Oh..baby boy,” his mother leaned closer, her voice taking on a bit of a comforting tone. “Amara ain't gonna see you as weak. If anything, she’s gonna respect you more for being real with her."

"You need to let her in. She deserves to know why you have been hesitant. You think she doesn’t see that somethin’ ain’t right? She’ll empathize with your fears once the truth is out.” His mother says.

Terry ran a hand over his face again, wiping the tears and contemplating her words. “You really think it could help? That it could change things?”

“I know it can, Terry. You gotta stop carrying that baggage alone. The hurt from Leia ain’t gonna disappear unless you deal with it. Talk to Amara about it, and share how it affected you....” his mother urged, her expression earnest and warm.

"She’s not just your girlfriend; she’s your wife. Let her be that for you. Put a ring on it, boy. it's been seven years, seven Terry. You have been holding onto that pain for long enough. So talk to her, baby. Just be honest and let it all out there.”

Terry sat there, processing his mother’s words, the weight of her advice sinking in. He wanted to be a better man, but the memories of Leia had been like chains holding him back.

“You’re right, Ma. I can’t let this keep me from Amara. She deserves more than that,” Terry said, and his mother nodded, a small smile breaking across her face.

“There you go, baby. It ain’t just about you anymore; it’s about your family, too. You gotta get out there and claim what’s yours.” His mother said, and he stood up and felt a spark of determination ignite.

“Open your heart and be straight with her. Let her know what you’ve been dragging around. It won’t be easy, but if you love her like I know you do, you’ll fight for her.”

He took a deep breath. “You're right, mama. I’m gonna do it. I’mma go see her.”

“Good. And don’t forget, you’re not weak in expressing your emotions or issues. You’re strong for bein’ vulnerable. That takes a real man.” She said with an encouraging smile.

“Thanks, Ma,” Terry said, giving her a genuine smile. “I appreciate you always keepin’ it real with me.”

“You know I’m always here for you, baby. Now go get my future daughter-in-law,” she encouraged, and he chuckled.

“You think you and Dad can watch the girls for me while I go?” he asked, his voice reassuring.

“Yeah, we've got 'em,” she replied, her eyes bright with understanding. "Thanks again, Ma,” Terry said with a smile, kissing her cheek.

“Of course, baby. Now go on,” she teased lightly, squeezing his hand as she released him. Terry breathed, gathering strength before leaving and hoping Amara would listen.

Terry headed out; he rehearsed what he would say. Once in his car, he gripped the steering wheel tightly, his mind racing with the thought of confronting his fears.

Once Terry parked outside the house they once shared, a mix of nerves, hope, and determination bubbled inside him. He stepped out and took a moment to gather his thoughts.

As Terry stood at the front door, he felt the importance of their seven years' worth of memories and love crashing down on him like a tidal wave.

His heart raced, each beat echoing their shared joyful and painful moments. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he knocked lightly, the sound resonating in the stillness of the evening.

The door creaked open after what felt like an eternity, revealing Amara. Her wide eyes reflected surprise and hesitation as if she were unsure whether to welcome him in or shut the door.

"Terry?" she breathed, her voice trembling slightly with confusion and a hint of guardedness. It was clear she hadn’t expected to see him standing there without twins. What could he possibly want?

cliffhanger, sorry lol! Let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part.

#terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #terry richmond x black oc #terry richmond x black!oc #terry richmond x black female oc #terry richmond fanfiction #terry richmond fic #aaron pierre #terry richmond angst #terry richmond x black fem oc #terry richmond x black!reader #terry richmond x reader #terry richmond x black fem reader

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nathaslosthershit · 10 months ago

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Birthday Celebrations (Teen Dad!OP81)

(Part 5 of my Teen Dad AU [can be read in any order])

Summary: The Piastri twins, with the help of their mom, try to make their Dad’s 23rd birthday as special as it can be. Warnings: I am currently pregaming a pregame so I am not writing this while sober. Also I decided to make this super fluffy because it only makes Tensions Rise so much sadder. A/N: Name reveal for the twins! Also this takes place before Tensions Rise, which originally took place at the Silverstone GP but I have changed it to Suzuka :)

6 am on April 6th, Honey woke up to her alarm. It was earlier than she would usually wake up. On most days, her 3 year olds woke her up at around 7:30, but today she decided to make sure she was waking up ahead of them, in order to intercept any attempts to wake up Oscar on his 23rd birthday.

She had finished decorating the kitchen when she heard tiny footsteps approaching. Two bleary-eyed toddlers entered the kitchen and looked around, eyes opening wide with a sort of wonder only young children seem to have, as they saw all the balloons and streamers around the room.

“Hi babies, are you excited for today?” Honey asked as she hugged each of her kids. Seeing the confusion appear on their faces, she added, “It's your dad’s birthday! And I think it's about time to wake him up. Are you both ready?”

She was met with enthusiastic nods and once promising that they would get the cake they so desired, she held both their hands as she quietly opened her bedroom door, letting the twins loose to wake their dad up.

Oscar had been blissfully asleep when he felt weight on him, suddenly throwing him out of sleep. Immediately concerned, he sat up with an impressive amount of swiftness before he realized it was his children sitting on top of him.

“Happy birthday Daddy!” They both screamed at the same time, immediately shoving the cards they had made him a few days prior in his face. They couldn’t write properly yet, so Honey transcribed what the scribbles meant in her much nicer handwriting below.

“Aw, thank you both. What a frightening but sweet way to wake up.” He said as he gave them both a kiss on the head. He then turned to Honey, who had let the toddlers get their moment with him. Kissing him passionately, the adults only stopped once they heard the ‘ew’s from their two kids.

“Happy birthday, darling.” She said as she handed him a jewelry box.

“I thought we said no gifts for holidays? That the money should go towards the kids?” Oscar asked as he held the box.

“That was when we were teens and you weren’t making F1 money.” She sassily replied.

Opening the box, he was confused when he saw two gold bands inside, a perfect fit for his and Honey’s ring fingers.

“Look at the engravings.” She quickly added. There, the names Frances and Hudson were engraved, the names belonging to the two kids sitting next to them on the bed. “I thought I would buy the bands ahead of time. I know we aren’t getting married for a bit but I really wanted to add their names to the inside and knew you aren’t big on getting gifts. Think of it as our first step towards our wedding” She rambled. She got nervous the longer he stared at the gift, was it too soon? Did he hate it?

“Honey, this is the sweetest thing ever.” He said as he began to tear up. They hadn’t started wedding planning, with how busy things had been, it seemed impossible to find the time. This was the first real step towards their forever. As he looked at them, it finally settled in how much he needed to marry her as soon as he could.

“God I can’t wait to marry you.” He whispered, more to himself than to her.

“I can’t wait to marry you too, Oscar. Now, let's go feed these hungry kids. I made special birthday pancakes.”

#formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine

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littledovesnow · 1 year ago

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a growing family | part 4

a/n: the finale!!!! i had so much fun with this mini series, i hope you love it!

warnings: childbirth (but traumatic), idk... hospitals? inaccurate medical stuff (i worked in a hospital but i don't know shit about medicine!!!!)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

-----

Following a few Peacekeepers back to the train, you and Coriolanus talked softly about the conclusion of the tour.

“How did you like to see my old stomping grounds?” He asked, referring to the quick stop you two had made in the Hob so you could use the restroom.

“It certainly looks like the place that could draw a crowd.” You smiled, thanking the Peacekeeper as he helped you into the train.

Coriolanus walked dutifully as you more-so waddled down the aisle to the private car. “Are you feeling okay?”

He had noticed you taking more breaks while walking, discomfort on your face.

Nodding, you toed off your shoes and lounged with your feet on the opposite bench, letting your husband rub them once more. “Just ready to get these babies out of me. I feel like a beached whale.”

Coriolanus laughed, looking out the window as the train began the two-day journey back to the Capitol. “I’m sure they’re excited to be out in the world, have more space to move.”

You snorted, letting your head roll back and lean against the plush booth. “How long do you think we have until they come?”

“A couple more weeks, I hope. It’s still a little early.” Coriolanus chuckled as you let out a moan when he got a particularly rough knot out of your foot. “What are you thinking for dinner tonight, my love?”

You two continued the conversation while you both watched the trees go by, content in your last days alone.

-----

The following morning, you woke before your husband, smile coming to your face when you saw the Capitol’s skyline in the distance.

Slowly rising from the bed, you paused for a moment when the world went off-kilter.

You stood and walked over to the exit of the private car, moving into the dining one for something to drink, never understanding why your mouth was so dry when traveling on the train.

“Goodmorning, ma’am. How are you feeling?” A Peacekeeper asked, soft smile on his face as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Tired. How about yourself?” You replied, eying the mug of coffee with envy.

You two kept a quiet conversation until the door opened once more, Coriolanus entering the car.

“You could’ve woken me; I would’ve gotten you something to drink.” He chastised, pressing a soft kiss to your head.

Rolling your eyes, you smiled as the Peacekeeper left to give you and Coriolanus some privacy. “Coryo, I’m going to be holed up in a bed for weeks in a few days, let me get movement while I still can.”

Coriolanus tsked as he looked over what would be served for breakfast shortly, smile coming to his face when you pulled his free hand into your own, fiddling with his wedding band. “How are the babies doing?”

Shrugging, you looked out the window as the snow-capped mountains drew nearer. “They’re getting anxious, certainly hope they’re both in the correct position now.”

Coriolanus chewed on his lip as he hummed in agreement, not wanting you to experience surgery if it could be avoided. “We shall see, you’re meeting with the doctor the day after tomorrow, correct?”

Nodding, you sipped the tea that was placed in front of you. “Unless I go into labor beforehand.”

The elephant in the room was finally mentioned, and Coriolanus’ frown returned.

“Coryo, you know as well as I do that there’s a high possibility we’ll become parents before the end of the week. I want as much as you do to wait until it’s safer, closer to the due date, but twins come early a lot.”

Nodding, the blonde took a long sip of his coffee. “As long as you’re all okay, that’s all that matters.”

-----

You woke to a loud screech, groaning into Coriolanus’ chest as the train stopped moving, stationed back at the Capitol.

“Good morning, welcome home.” Coriolanus whispered, voice hoarse with sleep.

“Good morning, Coryo.”

Both of you getting up, albeit you at a slower pace than Coriolanus, there was a small crowd cheering when you two disembarked the train, publicity-trained smiles on both of your faces.

Several reporters for the Capitol News had come to the station, vying for questions about the tour and wondering it’s success.

You sucked in a breath while Coriolanus spoke with Lucky Flickerman, keeping your face neutral as you interrupted the conversation. “Excuse me, Lucky, but Coriolanus and I have prior engagements we need to get to.”

Coriolanus sent you a look as you dragged him away from the cameras. He leaned down to ask you a question, voice soft to keep it off of the microphones. “What are you talking about?”

Looking up at him, you sent him a tight-lipped smile. “I’ve been in labor since four this morning. We’re going to the hospital.”

-----

You groaned in pain as your OB/GYN walked into the room, smile on her face. “Didn’t think we’d be seeing each other so soon, my dear.”

“Well, we like to keep you on your toes.” You grumbled, letting out a sigh as the pain dissipated.

“Where’s Coriolanus? I expected him to be stationed next to you the entire time.”

Laughing, you watched as the doctor put some bands over the bump to monitor the twins. “He stepped out to call Tigris and my mother. He should be back shortly.”

Moving to examine you, you looked on the monitor to watch the babies’ heartbeats.

Coriolanus re-entered the room soon after the examination ended, smiling at the doctor when he noticed her, though when he saw the tears brimming on your lash line his smile dropped. “What happened?”

“Baby B is still in a breech position, we’re going to have to do a C-section.”

At the doctor’s repeated explanation, Coriolanus was next to you in an instant, clasping your hand in his own. “It’s going to be okay, dove. You’ve got wonderfully trained doctors, the best in all of Panem, you’ll be fine.”

It felt like a whirlwind while you were being prepped for surgery, contractions getting worse as time went on.

Coriolanus stood next to you, wanting nothing more than to help take the pain away, willing the pain away.

“Mr. Snow, we’ll be going to operating room shortly. We don’t normally allow this, but you are able to sit in the surgery with us. Meet your children.”

You frantically looked up at Coriolanus, nodding rapidly. “Please, please Coryo. I need you, I can’t- I don’t want to do this alone.”

Coriolanus nodded, allowing himself to be layered in the sterile gown and booties, nerves skyrocketing as if he was the one on the table. “You’ll be okay, my love. It’s going to be okay.”

There was an oxygen cannula pressed against your face, IV into your arm, short curtain set up on top of you, inhibiting your view of the doctors at your other end.

Coriolanus pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, salty with the sweat still beading along your skin.

You felt the pinprick of a local anesthetic, the sounds of medical instruments being picked up and jostled, and the low voices of the surgeons and doctors birthing your children.

“You doing good up there, Mrs. Snow?” One of the surgeons asked, glancing up at your stats.

You nodded, too afraid to speak.

“Alright, let’s meet Baby Number One.” Your OB/GYN smiled, and a piercing cry erupted into the room. “Welcome to the world, Little Girl Snow.”

“A girl, we have a girl, Coryo.” You looked over at Coriolanus, ignoring the pressure in your head.

“We have a girl, love.” Coriolanus smiled, tears threatening to spill over.

You heard one of the machines behind you beeping more incessantly, the voices of the doctors growing muffled and distant.

“Coryo, some-something’s wrong. I feel- something is wrong.” You mumbled, words slurring.

Coriolanus felt his heart drop onto the floor at your admission, head snapping to the doctors who had started to rapidly soaking blood up, and he could pick out a few phrases from their rapid chatter, the words “obstetric hemorrhage” sending chills down his body.

“What’s wrong, what’s going on with my wife?” Coriolanus yelled, terror on his face.

“Mr. Snow, you’re going to have to head to the waiting room.” A nurse spoke, ushering him out of the operating room.

He saw one of the doctors pressing his fingers onto the second baby’s chest, while a handful of other surgeons and doctors focused on you, and Coriolanus had never felt fear quite like this.

-----

Four hours had passed since you were ripped from Coriolanus’ sight, four hours since he last saw his children. “A boy and a girl, Mr. Snow. Congratulations.” The nurse had said, smile on her face.

How she could smile in the face of a man whose wife could be dead, he’ll never know.

Coriolanus’ knee was bouncing a mile a minute as he awaited any news on your state, on the babies, on anything.

“Mr. Snow?”

His head shot up when he heard a soft voice call his name, and he saw a nurse approaching, hesitant smile on his face.

“Is my wife okay?” He asked, eyes frantic.

Nodding, the nurse lead him to a private room, away from any prying eyes. “Mrs. Snow is stable. She experienced a large quantity of blood loss during the birth, but with some transfusions, she is stable and should wake up shortly.”

Nodding, Coriolanus let out a sigh. “The babies? Are they- can I see them?”

The nurse paused, and Coriolanus saw a tick in her jaw.

“What’s wrong with my children?”

“The boy, I’m not sure if you’ve decided on names yet, but the boy will need to be monitored for a few weeks here. His lungs weren’t as developed as his sister’s, but with some supplemental oxygen and time, he should be a fighter.”

“My daughter, is she okay?”

“Would you like to meet your daughter, Mr. Snow?”

The nurse lead him to the nursery, motioning for him to sit in one of the rocking chairs. “Newborns do best with skin-to-skin, if you unbutton your shirt, I can place her on your chest.”

Coriolanus quickly undid the buttons, ignoring the nurse’s gasp at the few bruises on his chest from back on the train, and gently placed the newborn in his arms.

The baby was smaller than he expected, having never held a newborn before, but he felt enamored by her, by his daughter. Already, he was wrapped around her little finger, wanting nothing more than to give her the world.

“She has her mother’s eyes.” Coriolanus whispered, soft smile on his face as he rocked slowly in the chair.

Looking up at the nurse, Coriolanus asked about you, when you would be awake and ready to meet the twins.

“It’s hard to say, some mothers wake up shortly after birthing. Others, ones who had complications not unlike your wife, it can be a few hours to days before they wake. Rest assured, your wife is being monitored closely, and you will be able to bring your daughter to meet her mother.”

Coriolanus nodded, blinking back the few tears that threatened to leak.

He was thankful you two had decided to have the hospital facility to sign NDA contracts, not wanting his soft side to be released to the public.

“I’ll let you two bond, just press that green button when you need anything.”

Coriolanus thanked her, looking down at the small baby in arms.

“Welcome to the world, little one. You and your brother aren’t going to have to worry about a thing, I’ll make sure of it.”

-----

Coriolanus looked at himself in the mirror of your hospital room’s bathroom. The man staring back at him did not look like the Coriolanus Snow who was on the presidential election posters that were recently debuted to the public.

No, the man staring back at Coriolanus had greasy, unkempt hair, stubble popping up along his face, and bags under his eyes. Tigris had stopped in with a change of clothing and something to eat, knowing her cousin wouldn’t eat if it meant leaving your side.

The twins were recovering well, the boy’s lungs growing stronger with each passing day.

You were now Coriolanus’ top priority, you still haven’t woken from the emergency surgery and complications from days prior.

The doctors were unsure of why you hadn’t woken yet, speculating your body needed more rest than you let on, the tour taking a toll on your body.

Coriolanus walked back to the chair on the side of your bed, cracking his neck as he sat down and took your hand in his.

“The babies are doing well, doctor’s speculate we’ll be able to take them home in a few days. We have to name them first, and I know we decided on what to call them, but it feels wrong to sign the certificates without you there.”

The blonde man had taken to talking about his day, explaining things the twins were doing, hoping you would wake up and respond to his ramblings.

The only response he got was the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, the only thing keeping Coriolanus sane.

A knock on the door drew Coriolanus out of his stupor, tight smile coming to his lips when he saw Tigris.

“How is she?” The older Snow asked, dropping a small box of baked goods on the table next to your bed.

“The same.” Coriolanus croaked, voice raw from the nights he spent crying, hoping you didn’t suffer the same end that his mother did.

It was as if Tigris could hear his inner monologue, as she hugged her cousin tightly. “She won’t be like your mom, she’s going to wake up, and she’s going to raise those babies down the hall, and she’s going to be your First Lady.”

Coriolanus nodded, dam breaking as tears escaped his eyes, racing down his chin to meet each other.

-----

Two weeks after you had become parents, Coriolanus had to make an appearance in public to show the Capitol he was still strong, and he would be Panem’s next president.

He was sitting next to Lucky Flickerman, answering lukewarm questions and entertaining the premise that he was running on a full night’s sleep, not the coffees he had been all-but bathing in.

While the show was at a break, one of the Capitol News associates came over to the two men, serious look on his face. “Excuse me, Mr. Snow.”

Coriolanus looked over to him, Lucky frowning that his story had been interrupted.

“Mr. Snow, I’ve just gotten a call from a Tigris Snow? She said that you’re needed at the Capitol Medical Center urgently.”

Coriolanus felt the blood rush to his ears as he left the station without a single look back, commanding his driver to what had become his second home at this point.

-----

Footfalls echoing off the walls, Coriolanus’ eyes were wide as he turned the corner and entered the room that had become familiar over the last weeks, the room seemingly brighter when he saw your smiling face back at him.

“Love.” Coriolanus sighed, rushing to your side, kissing you as if he was starved.

You kissed back just as eagerly, only breaking the kiss when you felt your stitches pull. “Hi, Coryo.”

“Hi, dove.”

-----

a/n: the end <3 maybe you'll see this beautiful family in some future fics!

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #hunger games imagine #coriolanus x you #hunger games x reader #hunger games tbosas #coriolanus snow

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wlntrsldler · 11 months ago

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poisoned mercury | lifestyles of the rich & famous

i. lifestyles of the rich and famous by good charlotte (introduction)

a/n: introductory chapter! introducing the dynamics of the band, luke's relationship with his mom, and teenage boy antics. pre-reader and pre-chb. things will pick up quickly after this, i promise! bear with me as i set the scene :)

series masterlist | previous | next

“why the fuck am i seeing tabloids on top of tabloids with my kid’s plastered face on the front page of all of them?”

luke winced at the sound of his mom’s voice echoing through the empty event space. chris covered the bottom half of his face with his shirt, trying to hold in his laughter. may castellan was in her usual pantsuit, high heels clacking against the floor, as she waved around trashy magazines. she was furious.

“ignoring the fact that you are not 21 years old and cannot legally drink, what were you thinking, luke?” travis dropped his drumsticks on the ground, motioning for chris and connor to follow him backstage. they’d seen luke get chewed out by his mom more often since they started their world tour. as the three boys walked toward the side of the stage, may turned to them. “none of you are off the hook either. you may not have been on the front page, but care to listen to what they said about you in one of their glorious articles?”

“i would actually prefer not to, mama castellan,” chris mumbled, suddenly feeling caught. all traces of humor instantly drained from his face. luke couldn’t help but scoff, the boys always gave him shit for getting yelled at by his mom, so he was glad that this time around they were all on the sinking ship.

she dramatically cleared her throat, opening up one of the magazines. luke grimaced at the sight of him on the front page. he was sitting on the curb, his sunglasses askew, with a girl awkwardly patting his back. he doesn’t even remember this. may shot daggers at chris, who was cowering behind his mic stand, “bassist of poisoned mercury, chris rodriguez, was photographed away from the band when he was caught outside smoking something that wasn’t a cigarette, if you catch our drift. hopefully, his habits don’t catch up to him anytime soon.”

she stared at the stolls next, “drummer and lead guitarist of the rising band, travis and connor stoll, didn’t miss out on the fun. they walked out of the club with two models, who looked like twins, along with a bottle of dom perignon before heading into their suv.”

“and my darling child,” her words were sweet but her tone was anything but. luke chewed on the peeling skin of his bottom lip, “superstar, teen heartthrob, poisoned mercury lead singer, luke castellan, had a great night as seen in these pictures. the resident bad boy had one too many, it seems, as he walked out of the club stumbling with a mysterious blonde under his arm. castellan couldn’t make it into the car and had to sit on the curb to puke his guts out. let’s hope his actions didn’t ruin his chance at a budding romance.”

may closed the magazine, arms on her hips. she waited patiently for one of the boys to speak up.

“in our defense, this was in canada,” luke tried to reason, scrunching his face up. “legal drinking age is 18.”

that was the wrong response, luke realized, when his mom’s eyes lit up in anger. she let out a breath, “you were in toronto where the drinking age is 19, which you weren’t until yesterday.”

“i did not know that the drinking age in canada varied by region. i always learn something new whenever i talk to you, mama castellan,” travis said, trying to lighten the mood. connor shot him a look, motioning for him to quit talking. may castellan was clearly not in the mood for jokes.

“i am tired of you guys acting reckless,” she roared, dropping the magazines. they fell with a heavy thud. she rubbed her temples with the pads of her fingers, “your parents trusted me to take care of you guys while you chased your dreams and this is what you’re doing under my watch?!”

seeing his mom at her wit's end made luke feel sick.

“mom,” luke hopped off the stage, ignoring the sound of the magazines ripping under his feet as he landed on top of them, “we’re sorry. i’m sorry.”

“sorry’s not gonna cut it anymore, luke,” may said, shaking her head. “after this tour, you guys are taking a break. no touring, no public appearances.”

“what?” connor exclaimed, joining luke off the stage. the other boys followed, looks of bewilderment evident on their faces. “w-we can’t take a break now!”

“yeah, c’mon, mama c!” chris added, shaking his head, “we’re just getting really big. if we quit now, we’ll lose this momentum.”

“you’re not quitting. it’s just a tiny break– three months,” she cut them off, raising a hand in a stop. “we’ll release a statement to the press saying you guys will be taking some time off to work on your sophomore album so people have something to look forward to when you return.”

“okay, so that’s the cover story,” luke ran a hand through his curls. he knew that there was no winning against his mom when she made up her mind. he looked at her and spoke before the rest of the band continued their protests, “but what are we actually gonna be doing?”

“you’re going to spend your summer in montauk, just like old times,” his mom explained, voice still stern. “you’re going to camp half blood.”

“what the fuck is a camp half blood?” chris asked, plopping down on the couch they had inside their dressing room. rehearsal was cut short following the news delivered by luke’s mom.

“it’s a music camp,” luke explained, fidgeting with random things sprawled across his desk, trying to find the pack of cigarettes he hid. he really needed to clean up. “my dad used to take me there over the summer when i was younger.”

the topic of luke’s dad was a sore subject for him. his dad left him and his mom when he was 7 for some young waitress from their hometown diner. one second, he was signing up for little league with his dad as the coach; the next, he was sitting in the hallway listening to his mom cry after his dad packed a bag and left town with wendy the waitress in the passenger seat. luke hasn’t heard from him since then. last he checked, his dad was lounging beachside in santa monica with his third wife who was definitely too young for him. as far as he’s concerned, his dad was dead to him.

but he couldn’t deny that his time at camp half blood was the place of origin of some of his best childhood memories. he got his first taste of what it was like to be on stage at camp half blood; the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the pounding of his heart at the applause, the wild images in his head about what it would be like to be known for his music-- it all started at camp half blood. he was his happiest at camp, at least before his dad ruined it for him.

“is it fun?” travis asked, twirling a fresh pair of drumsticks between his fingers.

“used to be, yeah,” luke chuckled, hoisting himself up to sit on the desk. “haven’t been there since i was seven.”

“dude, i do not want to hang out with a bunch of little kids all summer,” chris groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall.

“relax, rodriguez,” luke lit a cigarette, inhaling the smoke before continuing. “there’s two sides to the camp. we’ll be with the older kids.”

“oh shit, is camp half blood mr. d’s music camp?” connor asked. the name of the camp was starting to sound familiar to him.

luke took another drag, nodding, “that’s the one.”

“dude, i fucking love mr. d. he always has the wildest stories,” travis laughed, “he’s so mellow and chill now, i wouldn’t’ve ever guessed he used to be like that.”

“it was the 90’s,” chris shrugged, “pretty sure everyone was like that at one point.”

“paid off for him though,” connor replied, opening a bag of doritos. he offered a chip to his brother, who in return, snatched the bag for himself. connor rolled his eyes, reaching over to grab another one. he was used to this. “i mean being a ceo of a multi-million dollar recording company isn’t too shabby.”

luke hummed along, mindlessly, letting the chatter of his bandmates fill the air. the three boys fell into a conversation about the last time they saw mr. d at the recording studio when they were finishing up the vocals for their debut album, but luke’s mind was far away from the topic at hand. he couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment from his body. he knew the way his mom looked at him would haunt him for the next few nights.

it wasn’t like he was actively trying to disappoint her– really, he wasn’t, but he just gets so caught up in the noise of fame that he forgets how to act under the pressure. there was something about his mom breaking down in front of him because of him that tore him apart. he felt guilty. his mom didn’t ask for this life, she didn’t even want it. she was content being a suburban mom in westport, connecticut, but she gave up her comfy life to let luke live out his dreams of being a musician.

he was lucky, he knew that. not every mom would be on board with her kid dropping out of traditional high school to perform rowdy songs about teenage angst, but may castellan was okay with it because she loved luke so much and wanted him to be happy. so when poisoned mercury got a record deal with olympus records, she didn’t hesitate to drop everything and go on the road with four unruly teenagers, promising their parents that she’d take care of their sons.

sometimes, he thinks about what his mom sees when she looks at him. he wonders if she still recognized him, the him before all the fame got to his head.

he was may castellan’s little boy. the boy who used to beg his mom for chocolate chip cookies after a bad day at school, who used to knock on her door in the middle of the night wondering why he wasn’t enough for his dad to stay, and who cried when she got him his first guitar on his tenth birthday. for most of his life, it’s always just been him and his mom.

now, at 19, luke didn’t know who he was anymore. he was just going with the flow, doing whatever, doing whoever, his fame and his status threw his way. he did what any teenage boy would do in his position– he drank, he smoked, he had fun, maybe too much fun, sometimes. it’s a rockstar’s life, his wildest dreams come to life, but it was a distraction, mostly. luke wasn’t brave enough to face the music just yet, so he dove into this fantasy head-first, too afraid to look back.

except sometimes, he fucks up really badly, like in toronto, and he’s forced to deal with the consequences of his actions. one time, his mom cut the band off from playing video games on the tour bus for a month after a heated argument between the four of them caused them to cancel a show. the argument was stupid. luke was adamant that scorpions did not have the same mental capacity for understanding pain that humans do and that did not bode well with travis. rehearsal ended in a brawl because travis kept doing impromptu drum solos to drown out luke’s voice. his mom was pissed that hundreds of fans were disappointed over the canceled show and it was all because they couldn’t agree over a damn scorpion.

another time, she banned them from driving the golf carts around the venue when they crashed it into a very expensive sound system in portland. they ended up owing upwards of $4,000 for the damages and were banned from playing at the event space ever again. the four of them laughed about it when the chaos of it all subsided, and they were fine not playing at the house of hades again, but they did miss the snack bar they set up for visiting talents. chris said he still dreamt about the pomegranate juice ‘til this day.

luke can look back at the punishments over the years fondly now. in the grand scheme of things, none of it really mattered. but going to camp half blood? this was a different type of punishment.

luke didn’t want to go to camp half blood. the last memory he had of camp was not a welcomed one. plus, after what he experienced on tour, he could think of a million other ways to spend his summer months, and living at a camp with spotty cell service and designated arts and crafts time was nowhere near the top of the list.

“yo, castellan,” chris’ voice snapped luke out of his thoughts. “you comin?”

luke put out his cigarette against the wood of his desk, “huh?”

“we’re grabbing food, do you wanna go with us?”

luke hopped off the desk, slipping on his black, puffer jacket, “yeah, i’m right behind you.”

as luke was walking out of the dressing room, adjusting his t-shirt, he saw his mom talking to teddy, their publicist. they were engaged in a serious conversation, no doubt talking about the press release regarding their second album and their hiatus. luke stood in front of the door for a brief moment, a stutter in his steps, not knowing if he should interrupt.

luke pursed his lips, deciding to jog over to his mom.

“i think we should post it on the band accounts first before the boys announce it individually. it make–” may furrowed her eyebrows, noticing luke coming closer to her. she turned her body to face him. she looked much calmer now than she did during rehearsals, “hey, what’s wrong?”

luke shook his head, “nothin’, mom. i just–uh, just wanted to say sorry again.”

“let’s talk later, may,” teddy gave the two of them a small smile before walking away.

“i’m not changing my mind about camp half blood,” she frowned. “sorry, luke but i can’t have you guys running around all sum–”

“no, no, i know, mom. i-i didn’t come here to try to convince you,” luke looked down at his feet, suddenly feeling like a little boy again. “i just– uh, shit. okay, i’m sorry for toronto. it was a bad time and it’s not fair that you have to deal with the fall out of our shit. and uh– thank you for sticking by us even though we drive you kinda crazy.”

may laughed, smiling at her son, “you’re my kid. you know i’ll always be there to set you straight.”

“thanks, mom,” luke chuckled, backing away to catch up with his bandmates. may waved goodbye, making her way to teddy’s makeshift office. before luke left the tunnel, he turned around, “wait mom! last thing!”

she raised her eyebrows, “what?”

luke raised his hand in a thumbs-up motion, grinning from ear to ear, “love you!”

“i love you too, kiddo,” may replied, a hand over her heart. “now scram, i gotta clean up your mess.”

#frances writes #hermes will never beat the deadbeat dad allegations #poisoned mercury #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke pjo #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson

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silentscrying · 1 month ago

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🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track five: the battle of the bands

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, alcohol, DOGGOS, yuji literally is just a ray of sunshine 24/7, mentions of drunk driving, so much fluff, ridiculous amount of kissing tbh, short time skip at the end, FINAL CHAPTER! || sfw. 8.8k words.

FOR THE FIRST time in a long stretch of busy days, you wake up not to the chirp of your alarm but to soft rays of Saturday morning sunlight seeping through the cracks in the blinds, painting your eyelids orange-gold. You crack an eye open and find Takuma stirring beside you. Right.

“Morning,” you whisper. For a moment, when Takuma opens his eyes, he looks surprised, and then he seems to remember why and how you got here and his expression melts into a soft smile.

“Morning, Skip.” He yawns. “Time’s it?”

You shrug. You’re pretty sure your phone is dead.

“Eh, it’s Saturday,” he mumbles. “S’fine.” You chuckle, daring to reach out and ruffle his hair. You don’t know what this is, the unspoken thing in the thin slice of air between you. You know what you want it to be, though.

For a while you both lie in comfortable silence, letting the sounds of the awakening house float up the stairs toward you. Murmuring, clattering around in the kitchen, the front door opening and closing, cars outside.

“Hey,” you say eventually, making eye contact. His eyes are a very deep shade of brown, dark but warm in a way that reminds you of old bookshelves or tree bark after the rain.

“Hey back.”

He’s relaxed, every part of him unhurried, and you take the image of it and stamp it into your mind over the memory of the night prior. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Takuma smiles. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Maybe it should be more awkward, the fact that you’re here in his bed in his clothes and you haven’t named whatever it is that stretches out in the silence. But it’s not. It’s just… easy.

“Skipper?”

“Hm?”

“I really, really like you,” Takuma whispers. The words wrap themselves around you, warm when you didn’t know you were cold.

“Yeah?” You bring a hand up to his face, trace the line of his jaw. His cheeks are a little colored in the mix of light slipping through the window and the cracked door. “I really, really like you too, Takuma.”

He cups your face in both hands, pulls your lips to his, and your whole body responds, pressing up against him in the too-small twin bed. Your hand goes to hold the back of his neck, deepening the kiss, and this is what people write love songs about, you fucking get it now, all the metaphors and cliché words you thought were exaggerations but no, they’re not, because you’re feeling all of them all at once and you don’t ever want to leave this moment in time.

“Like” doesn’t feel strong enough, not for this. You’ve only known him for a month. Is it really possible he’s already become so integral to the structure of your heart?

You’re kissing in the early morning light and it’s hungrier than you thought your next kiss would be, because even though all the rest of your days are rolling out before you, you don’t know how many there are. He twists so he’s above you on his knees, one of them between your legs, and it’s like a reversal of that night on the roof, like you can feel the night air even in the golden midmorning hours.

“Kuma,” you murmur between kisses, and he grins against your mouth, takes your next breath and makes it his.

At some point you’re interrupted by the startled growl of your stomach, and you break apart, unable to stifle the giggles rising up in your throat. “Well.”

“Well,” Takuma echoes, grinning. He stands and offers you a hand. “Breakfast?”

Downstairs, the house is alive with idle chatter and the clinking of silverware. Kirara is seated atop the counter, legs swinging as she eats a plate of eggs, and Hakari stands beside her leaning against the cabinets. Megumi scrolls absently through his phone at the table, the dogs looking up at him expectantly from either side, and Yuji is digging through a bunch of take-out boxes. When he sees you, his whole face lights up.

“Morning!” he practically sings. “Here, eat food.”

“Where’d this come from?” Takuma asks.

“My friend dropped off breakfast,” Yuji chirps, pushing a Tupperware container of pancakes toward you. If it weren’t for the brace wrapped around his wrist, you’d have no idea anything happened. He’s his usual golden retriever self.

You smile, forking one of the pancakes onto a plate. “That’s sweet.”

Your phone buzzes, and it’s Tsumiki sending you the link to the news brief. You frown at the headline, not out of any disrespect for the writer who stepped up to cover it, but more at the fact that it’s unfortunately true.

JU senior issued DUI after crash on 34th and Olson Blvd Friday night

“What’s up?” Takuma asks, immediately noting your expression. You slide the phone across the counter, watching its screen catch the light from the kitchen window. Kirara leans over it as well and starts reading off Junpei’s story halfway through.

“Zenin, who according to a campus police report was driving under the influence of alcohol, was on the phone with an ex-girlfriend when he swerved into the opposite lane.” Her dark brows knit together in some combination of anger and disbelief. “Jesus.”

“That’s fucked,” you murmur.

Someone’s phone rings, and Megumi glances at his screen and blinks, seems to hesitate. Then he gets up and disappears down the hall. You glance at Takuma, but he just shrugs. It’s probably Gojo.

The rest of you eat and eventually make your way to the living room, scattering yourselves across the couch and carpet and chairs.

“That single last night,” Takuma says, letting Kuro jump up beside him on the couch. “Concept. Make it the title track of an EP.”

You blink for a second, startled. “Wait, for real?”

“Yes!” Takuma says, sitting up straighter. “Think about it. Cover art is one of those name tag stickers, you all sign it, wrinkle it up and crease it and take a grainy film photo. And you put the song on it with Next Fix and a couple of your older singles you and blow up.”

“Or you print one off that says hello, our name is,” Kirara pipes up, seeming excited by the idea. “Ooh, you can have an intro track like that.”

“All caps. Just to match the energy,” you say, picturing the EP cover in your mind. “HELLO MY NAME IS. No punctuation either.”

“I like it,” Kirara nods. Takuma’s got that excited shine to his eyes, and you realize he’s very in his element in this conceptual space—he really will be a good producer. He has the mind for it.

Megumi slips back into the room looking a little haphazard, disgruntled, looking anywhere but into anyone else’s eyes, and Yuji cocks his head in question. Not Gojo, then. “Who was that?”

“No one,” Megumi lies, waving him off and turning back toward the kitchen to avoid everyone’s questioning gaze. Hm.You know better than to ask, and it seems that’s the consensus, because nobody pushes it—Megumi will open up in his own time. You hope he figures it out soon.

For your part, it’s a lazy Saturday, hanging out with Takuma, Yuji, Megumi, Kirara, and Hakari, gaming and talking and generally just existing in each other’s presence. After the chaos of last night, it seems to be exactly what all of you needed.

It’s not until late afternoon that Kirara broaches the topic of the band.

She gestures at Yuji, a flapping motion that misses the mark a little because Kirara is sprawled upside-down in the beanbag in the corner. “Itadori, can you, like… drum with that?”

He shrugs, looking down at his injured wrist. “Yeah, probably!” You frown. So much of drumming is in the wrist, and you kind of figured Kirara’s question was rhetorical. You realize abruptly that Shibuya Incident is still going up against Black Flash in the finals on Friday, and if they don’t have Yuji, they’re fucked.

“Psh, don’t look like that, it’s fine,” Yuji insists, grabbing two Wii remotes and wielding them like drumsticks. He goes to bang them around, mimicking a rock beat, and you watch as his face twists into a grimace and he drops one of them. “Okay, so, update: never mind!” He grins sheepishly.

Kirara is the first one to look at you, and by the time you’ve processed what exactly it is she’s trying to say, everyone else has their eyes locked on you—including Yuji.

Oh, shit.

“Whaddaya say, girl drummer?” Kirara asks, pointing a finger gun at you.

“Oh, guys, I don’t… I don’t know, it’s your band. Yuji—”

But Yuji is the one who seems the most excited about it. He’s abandoned both Wii remotes on the floor and is now looking up at you with bright eyes and his eternal grin. “No, Skipper, please? It would be so fun! I can still do aux and stuff. But we could play together! It would be so awesome!”

“Is that even allowed?” you ask, glancing at Takuma, who’s trying and failing to hide a boyishly excited smile. “I mean, I already got eliminated.”

“Hang on,” Hakari says, pulling out his phone. It takes you a minute to realize who he’s asking. “Yeah, no, Panda says it’s whatever. Better that than not have a battle at all.”

Takuma nudges you with a knee, looking at you with steady eyes. It’s your choice, he seems to say.

“I think,” you say slowly, “I should talk to my band first. But… I’m not opposed.”

Yuji whoops so loudly you flinch a little and Takuma grins, putting his arm around you and squeezing your shoulder.

“I probably should head out,” you say, a little reluctantly. “Kinda left the roommates high and dry last night.”

Kirara salutes you, her face red from the blood rush of still being upside down, and Yuji chirps out a happy see ya!

“I’ll walk you out,” Takuma says, standing when you do. You say bye to the band and the dogs and he follows you to the front door, going as far as to step just outside with you. The door stays open just a crack as you linger, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. He pulls you in and kisses you right there on the front step, and you smile against his lips.

“Are we, like…?” Takuma murmurs when he pulls away, cheeks flushed from the question or the cold, you can’t tell.

“Are we what?” you tease, shoving lightly at his chest.

“You know.”

“Well, if you don’t say it I’m gonna beat you to asking—”

This seems to zap whatever hesitation Takuma had right out of him, and he cuts in, “Willyoubemygirlfriend?”

“Sorry, what was that?” You know you’ve got a shit-eating grin on your face, but you can’t stop it. “Couldn’t really hear you—”

“Oh my god. Will,” he says slowly, drawing out the word, “You. Be. My. Girlfriend?”

You can see your laugh fanning out before you in a puff of warm air, and you tip your head forward into his chest, grinning. “Yes, Takuma, I would love to be your girlfriend.” You pull back and look up at him, lacing your fingers together. “I was kind of trying to get you alone all week so we could figure out what the fuck was going on. But it worked out, huh?”

“Yeah,” he grins. “It worked out.” He reaches up and ruffles your hair, laughing when you go to swat his hand away. “I was trying to get you alone, too,” he admits. “I like spending time with you, Skip. I’m pretty sure you’re the coolest person I’ve met, like, ever.”

“Ever,” you echo. “Those are some pretty lofty expectations to live up to.”

He shrugs. “You meet them all.”

Despite yourself, heat creeps up to your cheeks again.

“That was less scary than I thought it was gonna be,” Takuma confesses. Your phone rings in your pocket, and you glance at it and see Maki’s name sliding across the screen.

“Think that’s my cue.” You plant one last kiss on Takuma’s lips and turn around, throwing a “bye, boyfriend” over your shoulder. You glance back and catch him mid fist-pump, and he sheepishly shoves his hands into his pockets when he realizes you saw.

You’re still wearing his clothes, you realize as you answer your phone. Guess it doesn’t really matter, since they’re your boyfriend’s.

“Hey,” Maki says in your ear. “You comin’ home anytime soon? No rush, but we’re making lunch so we figured we’d ask.” In the background, you can hear Toge singing what you think is a dramatic rendition of Kristoff’s song from Frozen II, but you aren’t entirely certain because none of the words are right.

“Yeah, I’m literally walking through the door in thirty seconds,” you say, and Nobara’s face appears in the kitchen window. She waves excitedly and you raise a hand in return.

“Oh, sick.” The line goes dead as you open the front door. “Hey!” Maki shouts when she hears it click, and you slam it closed against the rush of cool air trying to sneak inside with you.

“Hi!” you call back.

Yuta pokes his head around the corner and grins at you. “Welcome home, our favorite breaking news reporter.”

“I didn’t actually report on anything,” you admit, kicking your shoes off and padding into the kitchen. Toge is somehow balancing cross-legged on one of the high stools, and Maki is making tacos. “Conflict of interest once I realized who it was.”

“Yeah, I saw the article,” Nobara chimes in, glancing up from her phone. “Yikes. Frickin’ Naoya Zenin. What an asshat.”

You snort. What an understatement.

“Hope he rots in jail,” Maki says in a sing-song voice, not even looking up.

“I love family,” Toge says.

You fill your friends in on the crash and the aftermath and Yuji’s wrist, leaving out some of the details about Takuma, because that feels a little invasive. And then Yuta asks the big question: “What about the band?”

“About that,” you say, taking a deep breath. You’re not exactly sure why this makes you so nervous. Maybe it’s just that these are your people, your band, and you all worked so hard and then went down together. It doesn’t seem fair that you get to go back on stage and try again and the rest of them don’t. “So. They asked me to fill in—“

“Yes!” Nobara shouts, pumping a fist in the air. “Oh, that’s so awesome!”

“Well, I didn’t say yes yet—”

“What? Why?” Toge asks incredulously. You laugh, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders. Of course they’re okay with it. These are your best friends. They’ll always have your back.

“I wanted to check with you guys,” you say, feeling silly about it now. “Just—I don’t know, to make sure. Since it’s not our band, and I didn’t want you guys to feel like I was, I don’t know, like…”

“Musically cheating?” Maki chuckles. “Skipper, this is great. You should say yes.”

Yuta solemnly puts a hand over his heart. “Avenge us.”

“Thanks, guys.” You grin as you hop up on the counter next to Nobara, pressing your shoulder to hers. “I love y’all.”

“Sap,” Maki says, which means love you too.

—

Using a drum set that isn’t yours is always a weird experience. You feel like everything is just ever so slightly off, and Yuji’s kit is an absolute patchwork of different brands of heads and shells and cymbals. You have to lower the stool because he’s taller than you. But it’s just for rehearsal, at least—you can use your own kit at The Fix.

It’s your first time in the shabby basement of Takuma’s house, and it looks distinctly different than your own. They’ve pinned old rugs to the walls as a type of sound deadener, not dissimilar to your own setup, but their lighting is a collection of Facebook marketplace floor lamps and a little disco ball that’s apparently Yuji’s. Your basement has string lights and a bunch of stools and beanbags, and this one has extra blankets all over the floor where Yuji and Kirara have made themselves at home.

Learning Shibuya Incident’s songs isn’t difficult—you’ve heard enough of their music to anticipate what’s coming, and Yuji’s there to give you pointers. Their three-song set for the final performance isn’t actually done, because they don’t feel like they have a good enough finisher, and after you’ve run the first two songs several times you mess around with potential chorus lines.

“What about that?” Kirara says after plucking out a new melody. “It’s hype enough, I think. Or it will be, once we add the rest of you.”

“I like that.” You tap out the rhythm on the snare rim, humming. “You have lyrics?” You look at Takuma, who’s staring at the ceiling like it might have all the answers if he just squints hard enough.

“Somethin’ about, like… losing your head a little bit because you caught feels,” he says. “Like, you’re down so bad you can’t function, to be dramatic about it. That triplet at the beginning of the chorus, Kirara—”

She plucks it out again, down-up-down. “On my own,” Takuma echoes, down-up-down. “Every little move I can’t pin down…”

The words tumble past your lips before you can stop them, because they’ve been circling your head for a week now. “Friends with all the dead in my ghost town.”

He spins around to look at you, a grin spreading across his face. “Yes! It’s like I’m going…”

“Going,” Kirara echoes, and they go back and forth—going, going, “out of my mind!”

“Whoo!” Yuji cheers, pumping a fist in the air. “Holy shit. That was crazy.” Takuma grabs the nearest beat-to-hell spiral notebook and starts scribbling.

Megumi starts laying out a bassline, subtly driving the beat forward a little, and you clamp the hat down on two and four to keep time. Kirara comes in with something that must be the verse, and Takuma reads off, “You left in the morning after eight, I got into work two hours late, I can’t see the sun without your face.” Bass, bass, bass. Megumi nods along and Yuji is practically dancing from his spot on the floor.

“One day and I run fresh out of light…”

Hm. You add, “Twelve hours without your hand in mine.”

“I’m dizzy and overworked and tired,” Kirara sings lowly. All three of you sing the chorus again, and you feel just like you’re at home in your own basement, writing a song in real time with Nobara and Maki and the boys.

“Oh, that slaps,” Takuma practically shouts. “Jesus. We’re gonna win.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Megumi warns, a wry quirk to his lips.

Kirara glances at her phone. “Food’s here. Break time, freaks.” She bounds up the stairs and Megumi follows to help her grab the bags—you DoorDashed Taco Bell, since Yuji never got his beloved crunch wrap on Friday.

You leave your sticks on the snare and move around the drum set, flopping down on the ground beside Takuma. “You’re good at that,” you tell him honestly, pulling the notebook away to read what he’s writing down. I met you across the darkened stage, you shook up my life, you got me made, you’re drivin’ me crazy night and day.

You can’t help thinking of the night you met him, locking eyes while he sang from the edge of the low stage at The Fix, lit up by purple-red stage lights and putting you in a trance. You scribble a few more lines after his and hand the pen back.

“You’re a poet,” he tells you, and you laugh.

“I’m a journalist.”

“Woman of many talents,” he says, echoing Maki’s words from that first night you met.

“Itadori!” Kirara shouts down the stairs.

“Coming!” Yuji leaps up and disappears up the rickety basement staircase, leaving you and Takuma alone.

“Hey,” he says, tapping the pen on the page. You glance up at him, nodding for him to keep going. “Can I take you out? Like, on an actual date?”

Something light and quick kicks around in your chest, a hummingbird loose in your ribcage. “I would not be opposed,” you say, as if the idea doesn’t make you want to kick your feet like a little kid. “When are you thinking?”

“Mm, you’re in night class prison tomorrow,” he says, tapping the pen against his lip now. “Tuesday?”

It shouldn’t make you so irrationally happy that he remembers your schedule, but logic seems to go out the window where Takuma Ino is concerned. “Tuesday’s good. Where do you wanna go?”

He shakes his head adamantly, tapping you on the nose with his pen. “Leave it to me.”

—

The only things Takuma’s told you about your date tonight are dress warm and bring your board. He meets you outside your place at four, his bag definitely bulkier than usual, his own skateboard under one foot.

You’re wearing a denim jacket over a hoodie and your favorite cargo pants with your boots, and you tucked a beanie and gloves into your bag just in case, but it’s surprisingly balmy out for late October. The wind is the worst of it.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Takuma says when you coast down the driveway and come to a stop beside him. The greeting makes you blush as much as his smile does, and he chuckles as he pushes off. “This way.”

“Where are we going?”

“Crazy,” he says. You roll your eyes. Sounds like the kind of dad joke Yuta would make.

“Well, then.” The two of you make your way down the street and around the bend, and you realize he’s taking you to the skate park. But at the entrance he keeps going, around the pit and a few of the ramps and to the largest one, back in the corner—not the one Sukuna deals under, but the one opposite. And you stop in your tracks, your longboard making a protesting schkk under your feet, when you see it.

Battery-powered string lights loop around the posts and down the underside of the ramp, and blankets and pillows are spread out across the ground. The area is sheltered from the worst of the wind, and you know your jaw is hanging open a little as you watch Takuma unload his bag—JBL speaker, two thermoses, and a bunch of food.

“Takuma,” you say, not knowing what other words suffice. “I—oh my god.” You did not peg him as being this romantic.

Then you think about his song lyrics and think maybe you should have.

He grins at you from where he’s sat down on the blankets, holding out one of the thermoses. You leave your board by one of the poles and sit down beside him, taking it and letting the warmth seep into your hands. “What is it?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“Mm.” You scoot closer to him, staring up at the layers and layers of graffiti and marker art covering the underside of the ramp. “This is maybe the sweetest thing ever.”

“I’m glad,” he says. “I had no idea what I was doing.”

“I wouldn’t know.” You take a sip of the hot chocolate—still warm. “It’s romantic. Big fan.”

“Really?” He points to where somebody drew a dick on the far side of the ramp.

“Okay, well, you didn’t have to point it out,” you smirk. “You ever done graffiti?” Looking at his mischievous smile and the beanie tugged over his head, the skateboard abandoned a few feet away, he does look like the type.

“Tagging?” He shrugs. “No. I would, though. Maybe we should.”

You hum, staring up at the arcing bubble letters and jagged black lines all over the ramp. You think you’d be horrible at graffiti, but you’ve always appreciated it, the way it sends a message and doesn’t ask for anything in return.

“This is like… alternative aesthetic stargazing,” you muse, lifting a finger and tracing the sharp lines of one of the illegible words in the air. You could stare at all this art for hours and never find all the intricacies of it.

Takuma digs around in his bag and produces a Sharpie with an “aha!”

“You’re gonna graffiti with a Sharpie?”

He throws it at you and you catch it in one hand, instinctively twirling it like a drumstick. “We’re gonna graffiti with a Sharpie,” he corrects.

And so you do.

The nearest part of the wall is covered in bright pink paint outlined in black, and it takes you a moment of squinting and tilting your head to realize it says LEAVEYOURMARK. Seems as clear of an instruction as any. So you do—scooting forward, you start to draw flowers into the thick bands of pink lettering, and soon they’re shifting to music notes, percussion notation, aimless squiggles. Takuma queues up a laid-back playlist with a few artists you recognize and many more you don’t, and you pass the pen back and forth, adding tiny notes to messages around the ramp, doodling in the empty space.

You’ve been on dates before, but this feels wholly different. With Takuma, you’re not stressing over conversation starters, worrying about commitment, wondering if you picked the right outfit, trying to gauge your shared interests with carefully planned questions. It’s just easy, existing with him like this.

After a while, you’re on your back in the mess of pillows and blankets, staring directly up at the massive painting of a skateboard with a face. Takuma is drawing something on the wall behind you.

Squinting, the green streaks under the skateboard look like that loss meme Toge sends you at least twice a week. You take a photo with the intention of showing it to him later, though maybe you shouldn’t—he gets way too proud of himself for versing you in what he calls Reddit culture.

You crane your neck to see what Takuma’s drawing and find the thick, dark strokes of a city skyline, towers and domes and boxy apartment buildings.

“Artsy,” you tell him, smiling when he appears in your line of vision upside-down. “You sure about this computer science thing? You’re too creative.”

“That’s what my mom said,” he chuckles, capping the Sharpie and sitting down beside you. As you sit up, he leans back on his hands and glances over at you. “I told her about you. She’d love you. I mean, I’m pretty sure she already does.” He hesitates. “Is that weird? Too soon?”

“No,” you grin. “I—that’s really sweet, actually. I would love to meet your mom.” Your gaze softens at the relieved smile that crosses his face. “Gotta thank her for raising a guy like you, anyway.”

You realize you want Takuma to meet your family too—you want to show him all the corners of your too-small town, show him the place you grew up. It made you who you are—it led you here, to him, after all.

“So,” you say, tilting your head. “When you say you wanna be a producer. Where do you mean? Like, LA?”

He shrugs. “Probably. But I’m sure it’s more competitive there than anywhere else. I feel like the major hubs are there and New York, but I wouldn’t mind somewhere quieter, either.” He loops an arm around you, and your head finds its way to his shoulder. “What about you, world-class journalist?”

You grin, thinking of all the places you haven’t been, all the places you want to go. “Anywhere and everywhere. I just wanna see it all. I wanna travel.”

“You should!” He sounds genuinely excited about the concept, and you lift your head, taking in the expression on his face—he looks the way he did when he was talking about making an EP, like the world is full of possibilities and he wants to see them all play out. “You’d be so good at it. Being a travel writer or international correspondent or whatever.” He clears his throat. “I read some of your stuff, y’know.”

“What?” Suddenly you’re racking your brain for every piece you’ve published in the JU Journal, overly critical of your own work in hindsight. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s good. Really good, Skip, seriously.” He reaches out and tugs a wayward strand of hair behind your ear, and you find yourself leaning into the contact.

You aren’t sure what to say, so you settle on a soft, “Thank you.” Somehow, the idea of Takuma going out of his way to read your work feels personal on the same level that writing a song together does. Taking in your words, your ideas, internalizing them. What is intimacy if not that intellectual exchange?

“I think you’re going to be a really good producer.” It’s his turn to blush. “I mean it. Not everyone has the perspective for it, or the ear. But you do.”

“Ah, well, I—”

“Am not good at taking compliments?” you cut him off, raising a brow. “Mm, we’ll fix that.” He laughs, and you’re leaning in to kiss him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is the most natural thing in the world.

It’s late October, and you are not the least bit cold.

—

Your hands need to stop sweating before you lose a drumstick or something.

Shibuya Incident has about twenty minutes before you’re all due on stage for the finals, and The Fix is alive with students and lights and drinks and music and chatter. You’re out on the floor tonight, off to the side for easy access to the stage once Black Flash clears out.

“We’re kicking off with the reigning champions of the Battle of the Bands,” Panda booms, throwing an arm out as the band takes the stage. “You know ‘em, you love ‘em, they’re every genre and no genre, covers and originals, brass and wind. Give it up for Black Flash!”

You whoop just as loud as anyone else here, grinning at Nobara’s animated cheering from closer to the center of the floor. Miwa walks right up to the mic and takes it off the stand, the neck of her white electric in her other hand. “Hey, folks!” She brushes her bright blue hair out of her face and shouts, “Y’all ready to hear some good music?”

She has the sort of infectious enthusiasm that could work on pretty much anyone, and before you know it you and Kirara are spinning each other around to the beat of a synth-heavy pop song that sounds like it came straight out of the 80s. The instrumentals are simple but tight, and Miwa jumps around, engaging the crowd, belting like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

“They’re good,” you catch Megumi saying lowly, probably to Yuji, but Takuma’s the one who answers.

“If I tell you the power of friendship will lead us to victory—”

“No.”

“Well, okay, you’re no fun.”

Kirara turns around and plants a hand on her hip, looking at Megumi. “Fushiguro, we’re fine. We’re going out with a badass new single and not one but two percussionists. We’ve never sounded this good.”

“Just being the token pessimist,” he sighs, cracking a reluctant half-smile. “I know we’re good.”

Yuji elbows him playfully. “Mr. Realist.”

Black Flash segues into a second track, an ABBA cover that has you dancing without thinking, and Takuma catches your eye and grins, moving along with you. And all too soon it’s over, a third song come and gone, and Panda’s back up on stage and the five of you are hopping up over the side to make your way to your places. Hakari and another tech have already swapped out the kits, and you settle yourself in the comfort of your own throne, your own pedals, flipping on the snare and pounding the kick a few times.

Yuji’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, grinning at you. “You got this,” he mouths, shaking his tambourine at you.

You truly have no idea where he got a tambourine.

“What happened in Shibuya? Who the hell knows?” Panda shouts, riling up the crowd. “Give it up for Shibuya Incident!”

That’s your cue. You look at Kirara, who nods with a conspiratorial smile, and then Megumi, who plucks out a few notes in answer. Yuji’s already giving you a grin and a thumbs-up. And Takuma… he’s already stepped into his on-stage confidence, all relaxed, easygoing performer, and the look he gives you has energy coursing through your fingertips like an electric shock.

You hold your sticks above your head, clicking them loud on the lower end of the shaft, and shout, “One, two, three, four!”

You are alive.

The first track is another pulled from their EP, and you’ve listened to it probably an embarrassing number of times—you know Yuji’s part down to the sixteenth note, the roll, the rest, but you don’t hesitate to put your own spin on it, and he’s alight with the same energy beside you, messing around with a tambourine and a few other aux instruments near a mic of his own, since he’s also doing backup vocals tonight.

Your hands are moving fast, your feet pumping the pedals of their own accord, an instinct, and it’s over before you know it, a sheen of sweat already forming under the stage lights. You grin, catching your breath, wiping your hands on your jeans as Takuma introduces the band.

From your place near the back of the stage, you get more of the low feedback than anything else, but you definitely hear when he says Shibuya Incident and the crowd responds raucously in kind.

“That’s Kirara Hoshi on guitar and vocals,” he says, pointing to her as she does her little riff.

“Yeah, Kira!” You have no idea where Hakari’s voice is coming from, but it’s unmistakable.

“We got Fushiguro back there on the bass,” Takuma continues, and Megumi gives the crowd an unbothered nod, showing off his own instrument for a moment. “Itadori’s back here on aux and vocals.” He pauses to let the crowd shout for Yuji and then adds, “And filling in for him on kit, we’ve got the legendary drummer from Cursed Technique. Everyone give it up for Skipper!”

You do a quick roll, laughing as your own band goes crazy—you can’t see them in the glare of the lights, but you (and everyone else) can definitely hear them.

“I’m Ino, we’re Shibuya Incident, and this next one’s gonna slow things down a little.”

This one starts with Megumi, a laid-back track with a similar vibe to the first song you ever heard Shibuya Incident perform, but a little smoother. It’s over before you know it, and then you and Kirara are launching into the new single. Even Yuji looks like he’s having the time of life on backup vocals.

“On my own,” he and Kirara harmonize, Takuma taking the lead, and you nail the next two lines with punchy cymbal-tom hits, “all the shadows look like a death threat, everybody’s waitin’ to get hit, it’s like I’m going (going) going (going) out of my mind!”

All your worries melt away as the beat drives your movements. You’re not thinking about dropping a drumstick, missing a measure, losing the competition. You’re doing what you love with people you love, and that’s all you’ve ever wanted to do.

“Think I’m seein’ double in one eye, startin’ to think this air is spiked, no one told me that’s what love is like.” Takuma lets the guitar hang and grips the mic in one hand and the stand in the other, leaning with it as he engages the crowd, and you definitely hear Nobara screaming. “You got me going (going) going (going) out of my mind, yeah, yeah.”

It’s over so fast you can barely breathe, and you’re laughing before you know what’s happening, Yuji throwing his arm around you and shouting, “You killed it!”

Takuma turns around and locks eyes with you, and you see that same adrenaline high in his gaze that you know is in yours, and when the band stumbles off stage in Panda’s wake, he grabs your hand and pulls you into a hug. “That was crazy!” he practically shouts, which is probably good, because your ears are ringing so much you probably wouldn’t have heard him otherwise.

“Guys,” Megumi says, deadpan as always, but you can see the effects of the performance even on him, his usually stoic expression unable to mask his own excitement. “I think… we might have a shot.”

“Holy shit,” Kirara says. “Skip, write the story. Resident pessimist breaks vow of negativity—”

“Oh, shut up.” Megumi elbows her as she dissolves into laughter. In the wings, you can hear the indistinct sounds of Panda’s instructions as he starts voting, and music kicks up over the speakers. Ten minutes. Ten minutes.

It’s the longest and shortest wait of your life, and then you’re back on stage with Black Flash and Panda, and it’s fucking time.

You wonder if everyone else can hear your blood roaring, too.

“Once again, an insanely tight vote,” Panda says, a hush falling over the crowd as they wait for the verdict. “Phenomenal performances from both of our final bands, but someone’s gotta win. Give it up for the champions of this year’s Battle of the Bands…”

You imagine Maki hissing under her breath for Panda to hurry it up, Nobara’s hands clasped together as she anxiously bounces on the balls of her feet, Yuta biting his lip and trying to get Toge to shut up.

Takuma’s hand is on your shoulder, Yuji on your other side, Megumi and Kirara behind you. You glance at Miwa, and she gives you a knowing look that you can’t interpret.

You almost don’t hear it.

“SHIBUYA INCIDENT!”

You don’t know which screams belong to who—maybe one of them’s yours—but you’re swept into a massive pile of musicians drunk off victory, and you’re laughing, and Miwa’s jumping up and down and saying how that was insane, guys, you were amazing, and even Mai nods at you in congratulations, and Yuji is abruptly on Todo’s shoulders, and as the stage lights turn down a bit you finally catch sight of your own band, losing their minds on the floor.

“That’s our girl!” Maki hollers, and Yuta whoops as Toge pumps a fist in the air. You realize you can’t see Nobara, and two seconds later your questions are answered when she somehow materializes on the stage, launching herself at you with a massive grin on her face.

“You did it!” she shouts. “Holy shit, Skipper!”

Everything around you is chaos and laughter and noise, but something in the center of your being is incredibly still, and you think maybe it’s contentment. In this moment, you would ask for nothing else. It is perfect.

Nobara detaches herself from you after more profuse congratulations, turning to Miwa, and the bands make their way gradually off stage. Takuma’s hand is in yours—you don’t know when that happened—and he pulls you past the band, past the wings, all the way into the drum storage room backstage.

“That was fucking amazing,” he says. “You’re fucking amazing.” His beanie is off, tucked into his pocket, his hair as wild as his eyes as wild as your heart.

You close the door.

It’s a pulse. That’s the only way you can describe it, the rush of living energy that comes with kissing Takuma Ino behind the stage of a shitty campus bar, the heat shooting through your veins in time with the throb of the bass from distant speakers. Breath on your teeth and hands in your hair, the warmth in your gut from skin-on-skin proximity, ears ringing with the sound of your name on his lips and love-blind eyes, you’re alive and addicted to a feeling you know you’ll chase forever.

—

TWO MONTHS LATER. DECEMBER 19.

The house is alive with laughter and chatter and Michael Bublé’s Christmas album spinning from the record player. The semester is over, and tomorrow you’ll scatter for winter break, home for the holidays. Nobara insisted on throwing a party before all the inevitable road trips and flights, and the main floor is strung with multicolored lights and tinsel—Yuta’s plant, Rika, even has a tiny Santa hat on.

In addition to the actual residents of the house, Takuma and the band are here, as well as Hakari, Panda, Tsumiki, Miwa, and a handful of other friends. Megumi’s even brought the dogs, who have both taken a liking to the loveseat by the window and claimed it as their own. You’ve informed Megumi that they’re going to stay here with you forever (he said no, but you don’t take orders from him).

“Okay, I’m dropping you off at ten, right?” Yuta quadruple-checks. You’re huddled in the kitchen with him and Maki—Toge was here a minute ago, but he heard someone in the living room mention Just Dance and ran off to assert his dominance or whatever.

“Oh my god, yes,” Maki answers for you. “Yuta. You wrote it down. It’s in your calendar. You live in the same house as Skip, you’re not gonna forget.” She bumps her shoulder with his and he sighs in admission.

“I know.” He smiles at you. “Just gotta make sure she gets home for the holidays. Can’t have you turning into a sad Christmas cliché on us, Skip.”

You salute him with half a gingerbread cookie. “Appreciate it.” He’s taking you to the airport tomorrow for your flight home and refuses to take your gas money, so you’re already planning on beating him to paying for the first grocery run when you get back.

“Things with Mai are good?” you ask, glancing at Maki. She shrugs noncommittally but doesn’t correct you, which is a good sign. She and her sister met up the week after the Battle of the Bands for coffee, which you genuinely thought was a joke when she told you about it. They’re both going home for Christmas and have apparently decided to try and like each other a little more openly. And she actually showed up tonight, which you have to admit you weren’t entirely expecting.

“Yuta!” Toge hollers from the other room. “You have to come do Rasputin with me!”

Yuta groans, looking pleadingly at Maki like she can get him out of this, but she just grins. “You heard him.”

“You hate me.”

“Yeah,” Maki says fondly. Yuta, defeated, goes to join Toge in the dance of death. Maki whispers to you that she’s going to record it for blackmail and slips out after him.

Tsumiki appears beside you, drink in hand, and leans against the wall. She tilts her phone screen toward you and you see it’s the Journal website analytics.

The top story right now is yours. You grin. “Oh, wow. I didn’t realize.”

“I expected it,” she admits, tucking her phone back in her pocket and gazing out across the room. “Look, I’ve been meaning to tell you. We won’t start the application process until spring sem, but, if you want it,” she glances at you, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, “I really think you should apply for editor-in-chief, Skip.”

Your mouth opens and closes without anything of use coming out, and Tsumiki laughs. “You don’t have to, but—”

“No!” you blurt, grinning. “I—I want to. I would love to. I was planning on it. I just didn’t know you… wanted me to.” Kusakabe’s just the advisor—when it comes to actually hiring the next editor, Tsumiki has the final say. Her endorsement is as good as a job offer. “I… thank you, Tsumiki.” You look down, suddenly overwhelmed by the words. “Big shoes to fill.”

“Aw, none of that,” she says, stealing a cookie from the tray on the counter next to you. “I literally can’t think of anyone better.” With a wink, she disappears through the doorway, where Kirara and Nobara are talking animatedly. Nobara gestures to you when she catches your eye.

“Dude, our listens are shooting up!” she says, shoving her phone into your hands. Your EP dropped mid-November, six tracks recorded in the studio with Takuma and Hakari, and you’ve performed better than you ever expected. The analytics show a sharp uptick that’s probably in large part due to Panda playing your stuff on the radio station.

You whistle, leaning on Nobara’s shoulder. “Awesome.”

Kirara leans against the wall, considering. “You guys thought about what you’re gonna do next year?”

Truthfully, you’ve really tried not to. The idea of Maki and Yuta graduating is so bittersweet. But graduation means Shibuya Incident will have a hole in their band, too. Kirara will be gone.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Nobara muses. “We could join forces. If we lose Maki and Yuta and Kirara, the only thing we’re doubled up on is drums and lead.”

It’s not a bad idea. And if Yuji is track captain next year and you get that editor job, neither of you will have as much time for the band—switching off could actually be very helpful. You hum, considering. You’ll have to talk to the others.

“Oi,” Kirara says, reaching out to poke you with a socked foot. “Your boyfriend’s in lost puppy mode over there.” You glance into the living room to see Takuma scanning the room next to Megumi and the dogs, probably looking for you.

“Dumbass,” you say fondly, and nod goodbye to Nobara and Kirara before making your way over to him. The boys are halfway through Rasputin and Yuta is, much to Toge’s chagrin, kicking ass. Toge looks like he’s just run a half marathon.

Takuma lights up when he sees you, a mischievous smile appearing on his face as he intercepts you by the hall entrance.

“Oh, wow, what is that?” he asks cheekily, and tilts your chin up to see a piece of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. That was definitely Nobara’s doing. “Crazy that we just happened to—”

You cut him off, dragging him in by the shirt and kissing him, and makes a surprised sound that has you smiling against his lips.

“Crazy,” you repeat after you pull back, relishing the flush on his cheeks. Even after dating him for two months (as of today), every reaction you get out of Takuma makes your heart rate bump up a few beats. “Oh!” he says, suddenly remembering something. “Wait, c’mere, I have something for you.”

“Takuma!” You swat at him. “I told you not to—”

“Boo hoo,” he says, sticking his tongue out and dragging you toward your room, where he dumped his stuff earlier. You quietly close the door behind you as Takuma digs around his bag, standing up with his hands behind his back. “It’s Christmas and it’s been two months. You have no defense. Close your eyes.”

You do, giggling a little as he grabs your hand and presses something into it—something soft. “Okay,” he says, and you open your eyes to see a little stuffed penguin perched in the palm of your hand. It’s fucking adorable.

“Oh my god!” you cry. “Oh, he’s so cute! Takuma.” You cradle the penguin to your chest with both hands, grinning.

“It’s you!” he says, laughing. “Not official Madagascar merch, but I thought it was pretty cute. Your own lil’ Skipper.”

“I love it,” you say, making the penguin do a little dance in the air. You grab its tiny wing and poke Takuma on the nose with it. “Thank you.”

“Merry early Christmas.” His nose scrunches up a little in thought. “Early Merry Christmas? What’s the right way to say that?”

“Happy early nondenominational holiday of your choice,” you say teasingly, because the public university won’t actually say Christmas despite the decorations all around campus.

It’s a running joke among the entirety of the student body that the massive tree in the arts lobby is not a Christmas tree but a secular modern art installation. There are variations of insane alternate tree names on the school meme accounts. The knockoff JU Barstool page even got in on it, and the student groups hosting the Hanukkah and Kwanzaa celebrations.

Takuma’s answering laugh is bright and it follows you as you cross the room to your desk, pulling a box out of the second drawer. “Your turn.”

“What?” He has the audacity to look confused. “Skip—”

You hold up the penguin. “Objection denied!” The box is light and square, and you watch excitedly as he opens it.

“Oh my god,” he says when he realizes what’s inside. “No way. These are the exact ones—how did you even—?”

You had to do some investigating to figure out the precise guitar strings he uses, but what's your journalism degree for if not this?

“Who knows?” You shrug playfully. “Maybe it’s the psychic powers, maybe it’s the housemate I begged to sneak into your room and find out.”

Kirara was more than willing. “Good thing you came to me and not Itadori,” she laughed. “That kid can’t be subtle to save his life.” Takuma’s strings have been on the brink for a while, and you’re honestly shocked none of them have given out yet.

“They’re perfect,” Takuma laughs, setting the box back on your desk. “I love them. I love you.”

He says it so easily it takes you a moment to realize what just happened. He freezes, mouth opening and closing like he doesn’t know what words he’s looking for.

“I—uh,” he says eloquently. “It’s—I mean. I didn’t mean to—I mean, I didn’t mean to say it like that but I did mean it, you don’t have to say it back, if it’s too soon or you—”

Instead of cutting him off verbally, you grab him by the shoulders and press your lips to his. His eyes are wide when you pull back, despite the way he relaxed into the kiss on instinct.

“Hey,” you laugh, one hand trailing up to the back of his neck. “I love you, too.”

The excited smile that spreads across his face is slow and hesitant, like he can’t believe you reciprocate. You pull him back in and feel his grin against your lips, his hands coming to rest at your waist, warm.

“Thank god,” he murmurs between breaths. “Because I keep almost accidentally saying it, and it was gonna happen sooner or later.”

“Least it didn’t happen over the phone,” you grin, your hand skating down his arm and coming to rest in his.

Sheepishly, he admits, “Almost did. Yesterday.” Your laugh is bright and so is his answering one, and you perch your little stuffed penguin atop the guitar strings and tug Takuma toward the door.

“Okay, lover boy. Back to the outside world.”

“Lover boy, huh?” he teases. “Kay, pretty girl.”

“Couple of cheesy ass romantics we are.”

“Mm.” He presses a kiss to your temple, the action so casual and unthinking you want to melt. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The second you step back into the living room, Yuta grabs you by the elbow and presses a Wii remote into your hand.

“Oh, no. Yuta—”

The song’s been chosen for you, and Toge has passed the remote to Maki, who looks like she’d rather die than give a rousing performance of TiK ToK by Ke$ha.

“Well, at least it’s you,” she says. Toge tries to discreetly pull his phone out, but Maki gives him a death glare that could send a grown man to his grave. He nearly drops it in his hurry to shove it back into his pocket.

You snort, patting Maki sympathetically on the shoulder. “Let’s kick ass.”

Three hours later, everyone has somewhat settled down, sprawled across furniture and countertops and the carpeted floor. Yuta’s grabbed an acoustic from the basement and it’s being passed around, goofy Christmas songs overlapping with the still-spinning record player.

You enrolled here with the intention of building a new life, finding a new purpose—new faces, new music, a new place to call home. And you feel like you’ve found it. This is the point of college. You’re surrounded by the best people you’ve ever known, and your heart is practically overflowing with how much you fucking love them all.

After all, your heart is not a finite thing. You’ve just got an endless supply of affection, and you’re not scared of it.

Love is the right word, you think, letting your head fall onto Takuma’s shoulders, legs tucked up beneath you on the couch.

“I love you,” you whisper, just to say it. When he whispers your name, your real name, in the shell of your ear, something in your chest sparks a little. He makes it sound like a song.

“I love you, too.”

directory | prev.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro @bisforbuse @risararelywrites @idkidk32 @gojodickbig @stargazing-with-choso @anonymity-222 @honeyyhuggs

a/n: that’s a wrap on out of my mind! ahh! i loved this one a lot, and it has so much spinoff potential i’m going a little crazy with it—keep an eye out for the megumi spinoff dropping soon. if you want to be alerted when it drops, lmk and i’ll put you on the jjk taglist. also, greta wrote a sukuna spinoff here—go read!

@bitchkay i need you to know your reblog tags give me life and you were fucking RIGHT ON THE MONEY with these developments

i’m not sure if i’ll start writing other fandoms or not—if y’all would want to see attack on titan or blue lock do let me know!

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inpermanences · 4 months ago

Text

Caryn Pines, whose still alive to witness her little free spirit Stanley miraculously rise from the dead. The Stan twins buy a brand new sofa that extends into a bed just for her, so she doesn’t have to make a treacherous journey up the stairs. It’s her own slice of heaven, seeing her babies get along like they did when they were children. Seeing her grandchildren parallel to their uncles; Dipper, studious and reclusive, Mabel, crafty and eccentric.

It all comes to a head when Caryn wakes up at the witching hour. There’s ruckus being made in the kitchen, pushing herself upright and cursing at everything under the sun as she grabs a broom. She’s ready to beat whatever creature made the mistake of entering her sons home — pausing at the sight of her two sons.

“We need to put a lock on the sugar. I don’t know if my stomach can tolerate another Mabel’s Guide To Cooking experiment.” Ford grumbles. He opens the fridge, taking out a lemonade pitcher and pours out two glasses.

Stan’s chuckles. “Mhm. I know where you could get some sugar.”

Ford rolls his eyes at the cheesy line, having heard it a million times before. Thick fingers hook into the band of Ford’s boxers to reel him close to Stan. Ford narrows his eyes, raising an eyebrow as both his hands are preoccupied with glass, the condensation wetting his palms.

Stan grins, leaning in to steal a kiss.

It lasts for a mere few seconds before Caryn’s screams bloody murder.

The twins pull apart as if they’ve been electrocuted. Lemonade glasses crash into the sticky hardwood flooring, as they both snatch the nearest possible weapon. Stanley, an animal spinal cord with it’s ribs still attached. Stanford, a lamp.

“Mom? Mom, what’s wrong?” Stan asks, putting the bones down and taking a step closer. Caryn clutches the broom like a lifeline. She can only stare at this-this monster that’s inches closers with every step. He holds out his hand, presumably to take away the broom from her clutch. Motherly instinct kicks in, to protect Stanford from his own twin. Her arms rise to strike Stanley down. “Ow! Ow! Mom — that hurts! OW!”

“You freak!” Caryn screeches in agony and anger. Stan goes frigid underneath the safety of his arms from his mother’s blows. He looks down at his mother with her fury in his eyes — Stanley thinks she’s talking about Stanford. “You’re a monster!”

“I know it’s - OW! - the old age talking.” Stanley growls, one hand grabbing the handle of the broomstick. It only infuriates her further. “I don’t care if you’re our mom. I won’t let you talk about Stanford like that.”

“Mom, it’s really early in the morning. I think it’s better if we talk about whatever is bothering you with some breakfast.” Ford tries. They think she’s stupid. She’s known everything about them. How could she miss this? Ford places the lamp down, stepping closer to de-escalate the situation. “Please, stop hitting Stanley.”

“I saw you kissing your brother!” Caryn screams.

The twins freeze.

Caryn turns her focus back to Stanley. There’s no love for him anymore. Not for this depraved abomination corrupting her sons innocence. She tugs at the broom and the handle spilts in two. “How could you do this? After all the pain and misery you put us through, how could you?”

“Mom, I’m sorry—“ Stan starts.

Caryn doesn’t let him finish. She thrusts the broom handle forward like a sword and lets the splintered wood make a flesh wound into his left shoulder. Stan yells in pain, hand coming up to cover the bleeding.

“You ruined your own life! And now you you’re trying to drag your brother down with you!” She tries to strike another blow but misses as he stumbles backward, falling flat on his ass. Ironic, that even as he raises his uninjured arm to protect himself, it’s a strikingly all-to-familiar position. As a child protecting himself Filbrick’s coropal punishment.

Ford steps between them then, using himself as a shield to protect Stan from any further harm. “You’re worse than Filbrick. At least he wasn’t a fucking pervert for his own family! I want you dead, Stanley. DEAD!”

Ford takes the wooden handle out of her hands without a fight, tossing it away. Silence fills the room, none of them knowing what to say.

“Grunkle Stan?” Dipper calls from the kitchen entryway. The three of them snap their heads in his direction. He stands there with a bat in his hands, Mabel tucked safely behind him with her own grappling gun; looking worriedly at their bleeding Grunkle. Stanley scrambles onto his feet then, walking past the younger set of twins.

“Stanley, wait!” Ford calls for him. He raises his hand in a futile attempt to reach him, feet frozen in place as he lets the distance grow further. There’s the sharp sound of a door slamming, followed with a car speeding away from the Mystery Shack.

part two

#stancest #mabel pines #dipper pines #caryn pines #part one.#here’s another stancest idea… gets boo’ed off stage… because they know there’s so much grammatical and sentence formatting mistakes

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ladykailitha · 2 months ago

Text

The Rise of the Fallen Part 1

The thrilling sequel to Icarus and Around the World is finally here!

This universe has decided though, completely without prompting to do a little Christmas story set in this verse. So.... yeah!

Enjoy!

Summary: On the ten anniversary of The Fallen's eponymous debut album, the band decides to do an unmasking. This is the interview with Variety journalist Karla Lopez. SEQUEL TO ICARUS AND AROUND THE WORLD READ THEM FIRST!!!

Exclusive Interview with The Fallen Behind the Veil by Variety reporter Karla Lopez.

Karla Lopez: I am deeply honored to be chosen to do this, you have no idea.

Astraeus chuckles: Oh I think we have an idea, yeah.

KL: Why did you decide to do a reveal now? You have all been pretty vocal about not wanting to break persona.

They all look around at each other like they trying to decide who’s going to answer that. Finally Abbadon speaks.

Abbadon: Back when we were first asked about it, Asmodeus said that maybe if we were still here ten years on. This marks the 10th anniversary of our first album, so I guess it just felt right.

KL: Fair enough. There were talks about this being live so you could answer questions from a chat on air. But all of you nixed that. Can you tell me why?

Asmodeus laughs: We all wanted to see the reaction on our friends and family’s faces when they find out who we are.

KL: You have fans among your friends and family?

Abbadon: Oh yeah. It’s funny having to pretend to hate metal so much I won’t go to our concerts.

Astraeus: You have to film yours, man. I have to see his reaction.

Abbadon laughs: Don’t worry, my partner has it on lock.

KL: Someone we’ve been told we can’t talk about until after the reveal.

They all snicker

Azrael: That’s because he’s here and them being a couple is also being revealed today, too.

KL: Awww, that’s so sweet. So this is how the reveal is going to work: each of you will take turns in the hot seat I point to a large red leather armchair off to the side a little and you will take off your mask, tell us your real name and a bit about yourself.

They all nod

KL: So you guys picked the order. Youngest to oldest, right? Again they nod So who’s up first?

Azrael stands up and moves over to the hot seat and sits down. He takes a deep breath and removes his mask. He pushes back his hood. Behind the mask is an unassuming man with blue eyes and wavy blond hair that goes to his shoulders. He’s conventionally handsome but he’s got a bump on the side of his nose where it’s likely been broken.

Azrael: Hi, I’m Spencer Peters, I’m 32 years old with a wife and twin little girls aged four. No she didn’t know I was a drummer for a metal band only that I travel a lot for business. He waves Hi, honey! Shout out to Sweet Pea and Pumpkin. I was an EMT before I met the rest of the band. I had been playing drums since I was ten, but I never thought it would become my job.

KL: Why did you chose the name Azrael?

Azrael: Because I wanted to pick something I wasn’t. As an EMT my job was to save lives. I figured that if I chose the angel of death no one would guess it was me. He huffs a bitter laugh And it fucking worked.

KL: No one in your life even wondered?

He shrugs: If they did, they didn’t tell me. As far as I know, no one in my life put together that my business trips line up with our touring dates.

KL: Do you feel angry about that?

He looks over the other guys and then back at the camera: Sometimes.

Abbadon ducks his head as Azrael (Spencer) stands up and walks back over to the group.

KL: Do you want to talk about that anger?

Abbadon lifts his head: My partner figured it out. Before we got together. It’s partly why we got together. But as far as any of us are aware no one else in our lives have figured it. Not spouses, parents, siblings, close friends. So yeah sometimes it hurts that they don’t know us well enough to guess.

KL: That’s got be hard. How does no one else know? Aren’t there dozens of people milling about after shows?

Asmodeus: Certain people have to know, our agent and our manager. Our chief security; they all sign NDAs but we’re also very quiet about it. We don’t get ready in their dressing rooms unless we have to. And if we do, we have armed guards in front of the door.

Abbadon waves: Shout out to Murray Bauman, though. He guessed I was the frontman for one of the masked bands. Just didn’t care which one. So he’s not on the list of people who knew I was Abbadon, because he didn’t. Until now. He wags his eyebrows.

Azrael: Plus once we’re ourselves again, everyone thinks we’re roadies or PAs or whatever role we can slip into that won’t draw suspicion.

I laugh: I guess I can see how they might make that mistake. Who’s next?

Asmodeus stands up and walks over to the hot seat and sits down. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Abbadon walks over and puts his arm around his shoulder and they whisper for a couple of moments. Abbadon stands up and moves just enough out of view of the camera but close enough that Asmodeus can still see him.

Abbadon nods and Asmodeus takes off his mask and pushes back his hood. The man’s coal dark eyes are apparently natural as he doesn’t remove any contacts. His hair is as dark as his eyes. He has a square jaw and a sweet smile. Abbadon smiles back encouragingly.

Asmodeus: he waves awkwardly at the camera My name is Simon Olsen. I’m also 32, but older then Spence by two months. I’m the biggest nerd of the group. I play D&D, I’m big sci-fi nerd, huge Trekkie. I was trying to write a sci-fi novel when I met the other guys. It’s not very good. I’m a better guitar player than I am a writer. I started playing when I was sixteen to get girls.

KL: Has it worked?

He laughs: As Simon? No. As Asmodeus, girls are always throwing themselves at me. But I never felt that was genuine so I’ve never indulged. I guess I’m a 32 year old virgin.

He winces and looks up at Abbadon. Whatever he sees there soothes him and he clears his throat.

Asmodeus: Like Spence, I picked Asmodeus because he was the antithesis of me. Someone to drive the girls wild. Cool, confident. I like being him more than me sometimes.

Abbadon holds out his hand just out of frame but Asmodeus stands up and takes it and they both walk back to the group.

KL: Is that something you all feel? That you like being your alter egos over yourselves?

They all glance around at each other.

Azrael (SP): Sometimes. We’re all what people in the 80s called preps. I’m not sure what they would call us now, probably nerds. Polos, chinos, Henleys. Suburban dads, I guess. So our alter egos, our personas if you will aren’t like that. They are so much cooler than us so it’s easier to be them.

KL: Has it been hard keeping the two lives separate?

Astraeus: More than you’ll ever guess. It’s why after a tour we don’t immediately go home we learn how to be regular guys again.

KL: I laugh How does that work?

Abbadon: Military grade specialists.

I laugh again but they don’t laugh with me: Wait, you’re serious?

They nod

Asmodeus (SO): They have these people that teach incoming soldiers how to turn off being soldiers and be people again. They’re kinda like that. Not exactly but close enough. Our head of security heads this up. He’s really fucking good.

Abbadon: I was the reason for this, by the way. My persona is so unlike my real life that there was actual talk about me being cursed. Our manager helped me that one time, because she knew me before I went on tour, but it was clear it wasn’t perfect. So she found a couple of people that would be willing to help us get in and out of character before and after our tours. It’s been a real life saver for sure.

Astraeus: And believe me, I know it sounds absolutely ridiculous. But it’s really helped us out.

KL: Who’s next?

Astraeus stands up and makes his way over to the hot seat and curls up on it like a large house cat. It’s a jarring affect to see the large bassist tuck his legs under him like a teenage girl about share secrets with her bestie.

He takes of the mask and drops the hood. He runs his fingers through a riot of tight red curls. His face is freckled and his has a gap-toothed, goofy smile.

Astraeus: Hey guys! My name is Shane Kendrick, I’m 33 and me and Abbadon have the same birthday, year and everything. I’d call us twinsies, but he already had a soul twin in the form of our manager, and you so don’t want to get into the middle of that!

Abbadon, their manager, and Abbadon’s partner all burst out laughing. Astraeus winks at Abbadon.

I am starting to see a pattern and it’s making me a little upset if I’m honest.

Astraeus: I tease, I tease. They’re super cute. I chose the name Astraeus because there aren’t that many night gods, lots of goddesses, but not whole of gods. But I am a huge mythology nerd. In fact I helped everyone come up with their names. I chose Astraeus because he’s not a god of night, he’s the titan of night and that sounded way more metal than just a god.

I was actually studying to become a history teacher for the middle school grade when I met the rest of the band.

KL: Where did you guys meet?

Astraeus (SK): Abbadon was working at a little cafe where the three of us would come in for coffee. Me and Simon would spend hours there. Him doing his writing and me doing my homework. Spence would come in after his shift and just sit in a corner to decompress.

KL: How did you guys become friends?

They all laugh

Astraeus (SK): Abbadon was playing Corroded Coffin on their speakers. First cafe I’d ever been to where they didn’t play some new age shit.

There is a choked off laugh from Abbadon’s partner and Abbadon ducks his head. I’m sure if the mask was off, we’d see him blush.

KL: You bonded over Corroded Coffin?

Astraeus (SK): Yeah, I told him I had a crush on the drummer and he told me that he had gone to high school with them.

My jaw drops: Wait? Really?

Abbadon nods: All Hawkins High alums. Almost all different years though, too. Eddie was ahead of me, Jeff and Brian were below me one year and Gareth was two years below me.

KL: Wow!

Astraeus gets up and swaps with Abbadon. They give each other five as they pass as if they they are tagging the one out and the other in.

Part 2

Tag list: CLOSED

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