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suguwu · 3 months ago

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WOULD THAT I: PROLOGUE

The Gojo boy doesn't have a soulmate.

When you're both children, you overhear him being referred to as inhuman, between his power and his lack of a mark. The next time you see him, you use a marker to write your name on his skin, too young to understand what it means.

You forget, but Gojo—

Gojo never does.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

masterlist

pairing: gn!reader x gojo

wc: 2.6k

notes: thank you to my beta, as always! especially for putting up with my bratty ass and reading this early so i could post it earlier. this has been a fun fic to get started and i hope you enjoy the prologue!

content warnings: none. see masterlist for series content warnings.

The Gojo boy doesn’t have a soulmate.

You don’t think you’re supposed to know; it’s only ever talked about in hushed voices. The clans all speak like that, sometimes, each word a butterfly’s wing as it flutters from their mouths.

The servants, however, are louder.

One of them has a voice like a lark, a sweet, trilling song. It carries. You learn to hear her coming, to recognize her shadow against the shoji. You know the edges of her by heart. Sometimes she spreads her arms out as she makes her way through the hallway; her kimono sleeves flare out behind her like wings.

“There’s something wrong with the Gojo heir,�� she sings one afternoon, her fluting voice half-muffled by the shoji. “Those eyes of his—it’s like he can see right through you. And Fujioka says he doesn’t have a soulmark.”

Another servant hushes her. “Don’t gossip,” she chides.

“It’s true, though!”

“That doesn’t mean you should repeat it.”

She huffs, grumbling something too soft for you to hear anything aside from the melody of it. The other servant laughs quietly before chivvying her forward. You watch until their shadows disappear, leaving only the hallway light to filter golden through the shoji.

You return to your coloring book.

The Gojo boy doesn’t have a soulmate, but that doesn’t mean anything to you.

Not yet.

—

There’s a boy in the courtyard.

He’s hopping from stone to stone in the koi pond, his snow-white hair glittering under the morning sun. He moves like a dancer, each step sure and swift, never once slipping on the wet rock. When he gets to the biggest rock in the pond, he crouches down, his back to you, and drags his fingers over the surface of the water. The koi rise to meet him, firework scales flashing in the sun.

You watch him from the engawa, peeking out at him from behind one of the columns. You’ve never seen him before, and you’d remember him, with his starlight hair.

“Who’re you?” he asks, not turning around.

You stay quiet.

“I know you’re there,” he says. “You can’t hide from me.”

He glances over his shoulder and the world goes blue.

It’s the cold burn of a comet’s tail streaking through the velvet night. It’s oceantide, relentless and unyielding. It’s a slice of the sky brought down to earth, heaven devoured.

Then he blinks, and he’s just a boy again.

“Who’re you?” you ask, stepping to the edge of the engawa.

He lifts his chin. “I asked you first.”

You introduce yourself the way your mother taught you, bowing to him shallowly.

He scoffs. “You’re not even from the main clan.”

“Are you?”

“I’m not part of your stupid clan.”

“Oh.”

He stares at you, his crystalline eyes sharp-edged, all prismatic ice. “You don’t know who I am?”

“Nope.”

He rises to his full height, unfolding like an elegant crane. “I’m Gojo Satoru.”

You tilt your head. The servants’ humming gossip made the Gojo heir sound ethereal, a fallen star that had burned away into human form as it plummeted through the heavens. His eyes are otherworldly, and you can feel the power rippling out from his lean form, as unstoppable as the tides, but—

“You’re just a boy,” you say.

He scowls. “Am not.”

“Are too.”

“I’m Gojo Satoru,” he says again, deeper this time, an intonation, a promise, a curse. His eyes flash, St. Elmo’s fire, a lightning strike of blue. “I have the Limitless and the Six Eyes. I’m not just a boy.”

You would believe him, but the last bit sounded more sulky than anything else. You’re about to tell him so when someone calls your name. You glance over your shoulder, but there are no shadows against the shoji yet.

When you turn back around, there are wet patches shining on the stones in the koi pond, an imprint of the past, but nothing else.

The Gojo boy is gone.

—

Your mother is hovering.

She smooths down your yukata, chasing creases from the thin cotton with trembling hands. There hadn’t been time to change; she’d pulled you out of your lessons and hurried you down the hallways of the estate.

“Bow low when you meet him,” she tells you, though she hasn’t bothered to tell you who ‘he’ is. “Understand?”

You nod.

There’s a fine layer of sweat gleaming at your mother’s nape as she kneels before the shoji. She reaches out to open it; her kimono sleeve slips down, revealing the elegant curve of her wrist. You focus there instead of the opening shoji, the slow slide of it a hissing snake, coiled to bite.

The shoji clicks, a chime of teeth, its maw wide open. You take in a deep breath and step through, your gaze on the tatami mats. Someone shifts.

“Oh, it’s you.”

You glance up, directly into the gaze of Gojo Satoru. His eyes are as otherworldly as you remember, a crisp, clear blue framed in long lashes, like a snowy-edged mountain lake. He tilts his head as you gape, his hair gleaming bone-white in the sun streaming through the open shoji.

You blink. “What’re you doing here?” you ask, and next to you, your mother hisses in a low, sharp breath.

Gojo shrugs. “Dunno. The clan said I had to come and they caught me when I snuck out.”

The woman behind Gojo clears her throat. “Gojo-sama,” she says, her voice like the shivering leaves when the summer breeze stirs to life, “they’re a candidate for you to train with.”

He eyes you. “Why?” he asks. “They’re not very strong.”

“Hey!”

“You aren’t, though,” he says. “I can tell.”

You throw yourself at him.

His eyes widen, a devouring sea, and he grunts as you make impact. He’s sturdier than you thought; he’s slight, but it’s all lean muscle, even though he can’t be much older than you are. Your mother calls out your name, horrified, but Gojo is already recovering, grappling with you for control.

By the time the adults pull you apart, Gojo is nursing a rapidly-purpling mark high on his cheekbone. Your split lip aches; you tongue at it and wince. You can taste blood, sour and metallic. You glare at Gojo even as your mother bows deeply to the woman.

“My deepest apologies,” she says, tightening her grip on the sleeve of your yukata and forcing you to bow with her. “I don’t know what came over them.”

The woman clicks her tongue. “The child should be punished,” she says, and your mother stiffens. “I would suggest—”

“No.”

Everyone looks at Gojo. He thumbs at a rip in his kimono, grinning widely. It bares his teeth.

“I’ll train with them,” he says.

“Gojo-sama—”

“I said I’d train with them. Now can we go? I want a popsicle.”

The woman sighs. “Yes, Gojo-sama.”

Gojo sweeps by you and your mother. He pauses right next to you. “You’re weak,” he tells you, ignoring the way you bristle, “but at least you’re fun.”

He’s out the shoji before you can respond.

—

Summer settles over Kyoto, a wet lick of heat. Even the wind seems to feel it; it ripples honey-slow through the trees, barely strong enough to stir the air. Frogs move into the koi pond in the courtyard; they sing along with the cicadas’ sawing choir.

“Catch it!” Gojo shouts as your hands spear through the murky pond water. It gushes free from between your fingers as you come up empty-handed, the frog you were aiming for frantically disappearing further below the surface. “You’re so slow.”

“Am not!”

“Are too,” he counters, holding out his cupped hands. A plaintive ribbit sounds out from between them. “I already caught one. It was easy.”

“You’re annoying.”

He stares at you, his blue eyes icy. “You’re annoying.”

“You’re the one who came over.”

He rolls his eyes. “We train at your estate.”

“How come?”

“How come what?”

“How come we train here? Your estate is probably better.”

He shrugs, opening his hands enough to peer down at the frog. It glistens in the sunlight, the same deep green as the lush courtyard. It makes a break for freedom; he closes his hands again, his long fingers sewing the gap shut. “I like it better here.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Why?”

“I just do,” he says, voice flat.

You don’t ask again.

—

“Why are we here?”

Gojo blinks, his long white lashes sweeping over the sweet curve of his cheek. “Why are you whispering?”

Your cheeks heat. The Gojo estate is a sprawling, massive maw; you’ve felt devoured ever since you set foot in it. Even the golden light that slants through the shoji feels cold. There are ikebana arrangements lining the halls, the leggy, deep purple irises sculptural as they rise proudly from the vases, but it still feels like a mausoleum.

“We’ve just never trained here before,” you say, taking care to use your regular voice. “So why are we here now?”

He shrugs. “They insisted.”

“Who?”

He dismisses the question with a wave of his hand, his long pianist’s fingers cutting through the air. You roll your eyes, long used to his occasionally imperious ways. The two of you continue along the hallways, you trailing after him closely, as if caught in his gravity, an orbiting moon.

You almost run into him when he comes to a sudden halt. You peek around him—in the last few months, he’s gone through a growth spurt, one that your mother says will come when you’re his age, and he’s too tall to peer over his shoulder—and see a servant bowing low, her ebony hair glinting.

“Gojo-sama,” she says. “Please follow me. The elders are waiting.”

He sighs, a dramatic heave of his chest. “What do they want?”

“They didn’t specify.”

“Ugh.”

“Gojo-sama—”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he says. “Go tell those geezers I’ll be there soon.”

You wince right along with the servant. Gojo’s disdain for the elders is not new, but it still unnerves you every time, as if they will come along and smite you down.

“C’mon,” Gojo says to you. “Let’s get it over with.”

The servant clears her throat. “Only you, Gojo-sama.”

He glares, his blue eyes burning, a comet streaking through the sky. “No,” he says. “They’re coming.”

“They cannot.”

“I said they’re coming.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him, eyes wide. “Really.”

Gojo looks back at you. For a second, his mouth is a wound, tender and pink, but in the next breath, it’s gone, frozen under a layer of ice.

“Fine.”

You bite your lip, but he’s already walking away. You catch yourself before you reach for him. He disappears down the hallway, his hair glinting like exposed bone.

The servant turns to you. “This way,” she says, her voice perfectly neutral.

You follow her to an empty room; she slides the shoji shut behind herself as you settle onto the cushion at the chabudai. You gaze around the room. There’s not much to take in; it’s wealthy in a subdued way. You fidget with the hem of your sleeve and then get to your feet.

You slide open the shoji leading out to the engawa; it opens onto a huge, lush courtyard. The plush flowers are weighted down by their own blooms, their stems curving like a dancer’s back. A shishi-odoshi rings out with a hollow thud; a few songbirds scatter, their wings rustling like leaves as they soar towards the sky.

You step out onto the engawa. It’s still early enough that the sun slants onto the wood, warming it. You sit down and bask in it, tilting your face up for the sun’s sweet kiss. You lay back, your eyes fluttering shut.

A voice wakes you.

“He’s an insolent brat!” a man hisses. “He needs to be taken in hand!”

“He’s too powerful,” another man answers. His voice is calm, but you can sense the ripples in it, the thing lurking underneath. “We can only do what we’re already doing.”

You go still. They can only be talking about Gojo. Their footsteps echo; they’re drawing closer and closer.

“It’s not enough.”

“He’s still young. Maybe we can mold him.”

The first man snorts. “You don’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t.”

“There’s something wrong with that boy,” the first man says. “Those eyes—that power—and not even a hint of a mark. He’s barely human.”

Their footsteps are starting to fade; their voices become murmurs. But you still hear it when the second man says:

“I don’t think he’s human at all.”

Then they’re gone, fading from your world like malevolent spirits, dissipating on the wind. You unclench your fists and find that your nails have bitten into your skin, little half-moon curves cutting through the leylines of your palms.

Gojo shows up a mere minute later. He slides open the shoji with a bang; his eyes find you immediately.

“C’mon,” he says, stepping out into the courtyard. His eyes are shadowed; his lips are pulled tight, an unstitched wound. He’s heard them, you realize. You’ve never seen him bothered by other people’s opinions; your chest aches, a pressed bruise. You open your mouth to say something, but you can’t find the words.

He grabs your hand as he passes by you, tugging you along behind him, ignoring your surprised yelp. “Let’s go before those stupid geezers find me again.”

“Where are we going?”

“Away from here.”

“But my shoes—”

He glances back at you and you drown in blue.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Let’s go.”

He doesn’t answer; he just tugs you along. You stare at the back of his head for a moment, trying to make sense of the expression you’d seen flash across his face before he’d turned around again. You can’t understand it, but you know one thing.

He’s never looked more human to you.

—

The next time you see him, you’re prepared.

You uncap the marker with your teeth. You reach out for Gojo’s arm; he pulls away before you can grab hold, as quick as a darting fish.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Give me your arm.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.”

He eyes you for a moment, but gives you his arm.

You push up his yukata sleeve to expose the tender underbelly of his wrist. You start to write, laboring over each stroke of the marker, keeping it as neat as you can. The silver ink covers the rivers of his blue-green veins as it sinks into his skin, a childish tattoo.

“There,” you say, finishing with a somewhat-shaky flourish. “Now you have a mark.”

Gojo stares at you, his cerulean gaze lit from within, the sea beneath the sun. He covers the katakana of your name with his free hand, careful not to smudge the still-drying characters. Under the shadow, they fade to gray, but they still glint and glimmer the same way real soulmarks do.

You hum, pleased with yourself, cap the marker, and toss it to the side so you can start training.

You don’t know it yet, but it’s your last session with him. He disappears into the dawn like a fading star, spirited off to Tokyo to continue his training. You’ve only spent six months with him. Still, it aches, a pressed bruise, but you’ve always known he would outgrow you; his power is a black hole, always devouring.

Life, ever unmoved, continues on.

The boy you knew fades from your memories, though you never forget him. It’s impossible, with the stories that come out of Tokyo, how he completes missions that no one his age should be able to handle.

Still, you forget things. The tilt of his mouth; the cadence of his voice. He becomes a shadow of himself, a shade with burning blue eyes.

You forget that you once wrote your name on the delicate inside of his wrist.

Gojo, though—

Gojo never does.

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #bee writes jjk #fic: would that i

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monstersholygrail · 2 months ago

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Okay for the birds. Since you asked so nicely. (And because I am on my knees BEGGING for crumbs of this!!!) How would they react to reader living in a run down apartment? Like it takes a lot of money to keep a studio going, even with such... passionate attendees. Yeah they spoil reader at the studio, but what about seeing reader out and about? At home, out shopping?

For Scarlet Macaw Bird Hybrids the colony keeps coming at you like they’re vultures. They’re greedy for your cum, needy for the tight clench of your fat cunt milking their cocks dry, desperate for your cries of pleasure and who can force them out of you, and they crave the feel of your pliable flesh in their loving hands as they take you over and over again.

They’ve all lost themselves in you, as if you’ve pulled a veil of lust over their eyes and they are nothing but mindless machines set for your pleasure. It’s all they want. To feel that deep connection with you, their precious mate.

One after the other they fuck you dumb, bringing you release after release. Even as your body grows more tired they can see the need in your eyes and they won’t stop until their mate is fully satisfied.

As your next orgasm crashes into you, your eyes roll back, your body no longer having the strength to fully seize and shudder with the sheer force of your pleasure.

Your mates currently taking care of you each unload a hefty amount of cum inside your gushing walls. It isn’t until they slip out of you to lightly peck kisses along your face that they realized they fucked you till you passed out.

All the bird hybrids coo at you in worry, their wings flapping as they surround your plush fucked out form. All limp and beautiful. Their hands lovingly caress every inch of your body, making sure you’re alright.

“I’ll take her to her human apartment. Make sure she gets there safe,” one of the bird hybrids speak up.

Instantly a chorus of over bird hybrids chirp out their disagreement. All of them wanting to be the one who takes you home and tucks you into bed. Anything just to be with you for a little bit longer and to take care of you. But the first bird hybrid stands his ground and insists.

Taking you into his arms he begins to fly you home. You had never shown any of the bird hybrids in the colony where you lived but a few started following you home after your night class with them and soon after everyone knew where you lived and would follow you to make sure you got home safe after that class.

Silly humans would call it stalking. But they were only looking after you! They made sure you never got hurt and hurt anyone who dared try.

You didn’t live in a very good neighborhood after all, putting most of your money into your studio, so they had to take care of you. Even if that meant scaring off anyone who looked at you funny or with any interest.

But none of the birds had ever been inside your apartment before. As the bird hybrid uses your key to enter, his eyes widen in horror at the sight of your run down apartment. Their mate could not live like this. Not under their watch.

After tucking you into bed, the bird hybrid gets out his phone and enters their colony group chat dedicated specifically to talking about you.

“OUR MATE IS LIVING IN SHAMBLES!” The bird hybrid texts into the chat to convey his panic. Seconds later and the group chat is blowing up.

“I knew we didn't pay ‘nough for her classes!"

"Should demand she raise them…"

"Do dance teachers get random bonuses?"

“Would she feel insulted if we gave her money at the end of classes after we’ve fucked her raw?”

“Not if she’s too blissed out to notice us slipping the money in her bag.”

“Nah, she wouldn’t like. I think the humans call it Pros— Pollution? Or Hook— something to do with fishing, I don’t know. It’s not a good idea.”

“That’s not the point! What are we going to do about this? We can’t allow this to continue,” the bird hybrid types, interrupting their rambling.

“Could always take her back to the nest…” one hybrid suggests. He thinks about it for a moment before he shakes his head.

“An idea for another day. She wouldn’t go for it now. We need to fix up her place until she’s ready.” The bird hybrid with you concludes.

As you sleep the bird hybrid plans for everything. He sends for a whole bunch of them to head over to your apartment. A team of them flying around and taking what they need to help fix up your apartment while another team prepares the place for work.

When everyone arrives at your apartment things quickly dissolve into chaos. Of course, all the Bird Hybrids want to see you first sleeping all pretty and fucked out in your bed. The Hybrids at that night class immediately start boasting about how good they fucked you and others immediately raise their voices, pleading their own case.

It’s only when you shift on the bed that the Bird Hybrid that brought you home immediately shushes them.

“Stop, stop, stop! We can’t wake her,” he whispers.

Their eyes all fall back onto you, silently watching your plush figure squirm and settle back on the bed. The small action alone causing them to get a little hard and they have to force themselves not to clamber onto the bed and wake you up.

No, instead they get to work. Upgrading your apartment in every possible way they know how. Cleaning it up and making it into a real home. While also enforcing it and making sure you’re the safest person in the neighborhood.

Creating the near perfect nest. Only second to their own they hope to bring you to someday.

They can’t wait for you to finally wake up. They all imagine the look on your face when you rouse from your slumber to see them all there and your apartment completely changed. But most of all… they can’t wait for the thank you gifts you’re bound to give them all.

You have to break in your new apartment somehow, don’t you?

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just-jordie-things · 1 year ago

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crushing - takuma ino

word count: 3k warnings: i think none summary: ino's not great at making moves and you're not great at picking up on them. either way, you're undeniably crushing on each other. a/n: this is my first ino fic! i don't usually post something immediately after finishing it but i really wanted feedback on this one before i wrote bigger n better fics for him :3 ___

Takuma Ino was not a desperate man.

At least he hoped he didn’t come off that way whenever he crossed paths with (y/l/n) (y/n). He really hoped he didn’t. Because every day he spent at Jujutsu Tech, he went out of his way to ‘accidentally’ bump into her as many times as possible.

His personal best was twenty-five. That day he’d stayed well past sunset to finish the paperwork he’d neglected, but he still stands by his choices.

Nanami claimed that if he had a crush on the young manager, then he should just ask her out already, but Ino didn’t think it was that easy. Not because he was nervous- of course not! He just wanted to be certain that she would agree to go out with him before making a move. That wasn’t a ridiculous notion, was it?

It wasn’t ridiculous. It just meant things moved… slowly.

“Ino, hey,”

(y/n’s) drawn out of her conversation with Maki when she sees the Grade Two Sorcerer approaching in the hall. There’s a soft smile of familiarity on her face, unlike the student beside her who rolled her eyes and slumped against the wall, knowing that it would take twice as long to have her paperwork looked over. This wasn’t the first time Maki had witnessed the perfect distraction that was Takuma Ino. It was already the fourth time this week, and just like every other time, (y/n) fell for it right away.

Just as he approaches the both of them, a look of confusion flashes across (y/n’s) face, and she tucks the forgotten paperwork against her chest as she tilts her head at him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on your way to Yokohama? I thought you were assigned to that Grade One curse with the whole…” She pauses as she makes an indefinite shape with her hands, “Explosive thing?”

“I’m about to head out for it now, but, you know,” He shrugs his shoulders, a smile forming on his face the longer he looks at her.

The first time he’d laid eyes on her he’d done a cartoonish double take, which unfortunately Nanami bore witness to. She’d been walking and chatting animatedly with Ijichi- who seemed less passionate about the conversation but was an attentive listener nonetheless- and every time he’d seen her since, Ino felt the same lurch in his heart that was the desire to linger near her just a little longer.

Before he could finish his thought, Maki was speaking up first.

“You just wanted to show up late?” She asked dryly, her expression anything but amused by the sight of young love.

“I’m not late,” He chuckles nervously, shaking his head. “I just wanted to stop by my good luck charm before I left” He claims with a little more confidence before he grins at (y/n).

She laughs at the comment, and Maki can’t help but roll her eyes just a little bit. Typical. Surely she’d swoon over the flirty comment and then drop it completely, just like she always did.

“Yeah yeah,” She mused, just like Maki expected. “Go, don’t get yourself in trouble again. I don’t think Nanami will keep vouching for you”

“Sure he will,” Ino waves a dismissive hand, but judging from the way he’s already turning away and breaking into a jog, (y/n) and Maki can see through the nonchalant act. “But it’ll be quick! I’ll have the shortest report ever for you!” He hollers from down the hall.

(y/n’s) still chuckling once he’s out of sight. Maki huffs in aggravation.

“I can’t believe you lead that guy on. You’re gonna have to let him down easy if you don’t want him to have a stroke”

“What?” (y/n) shakes her head at the student’s accusation. “I don’t lead him on, we just get along”

“You lead him on” Maki deadpans. (y/n) holds her paperwork a little tighter against herself, and the defensive action doesn’t go unnoticed.

“This isn’t appropriate, I won’t allow for this to be a silly rumor of some s-”

“Gojo Sensei says that he’ll never make a move unless you do it first” Maki shrugs.

All professionalism flies out the window in an instant as (y/n’s) face goes blank, her eyes blinking wide as she stares back at the student in utter disbelief.

“He did?” She mumbles.

Maki nods in confirmation.

(y/n) glances around herself to ensure their conversation would be a private one, before shuffling forward and lowering her voice.

“Well… what else did he say?” ___

To say that (y/n) had a bit of a crush on the Auspicious Beast Summoner would be an understatement. From the day he’d fallen in front of her- literally, he fell down half a flight of stairs and she’d rushed to make sure he was alright- there was something exciting about him. He was so kind, and funny, and he so obviously went out of his way to talk to her that she slowly found her heart fluttering more and more whenever he was around.

All this time she’d thought he was just friendly, and was eager to have a companion at Jujutsu Tech that was his age. Why else would he spend so much time around a manager when there are much cooler, much stronger people around? It was no secret what he thought of Nanami, and while (y/n) was proud of her work, she simply couldn’t compete with the skill of a sorcerer.

Usually she wasn’t one to listen to rumors, especially from a source like Gojo Satoru. He may have been a friend-of-sorts to her, but that didn’t mean (y/n) trusted him for a second. Gojo was a good guy, but he was the kind of guy to stir the pot when he was bored, and playing matchmaker was just a game to him. So despite everything Maki had told her, she didn’t necessarily believe it. She was just curious, that’s all.

And the only reason she was headed off to Ino’s office after being notified he’d returned from his mission was just to address the rumors, that’s all. She was doing him a favor by letting him know what the other sorcerers were gossiping about. There couldn’t possibly be an ulterior motive laced in there as well.

His door is open when she reaches the small workspace, but he doesn’t seem to notice when she appears there, leaning into the door frame while she takes in the crude office.

Calling it an office didn’t even feel correct. There was a desk and a computer, and a semi-comfortable looking rolling chair that Ino was sitting in. He hadn’t realized there was a visitor at the door seeing as he had his head hanging over the back of it, his mask pulled down and his hands pressed into his face. (y/n) had to bite back the chuckle that threatened to come out of her, assuming there was more to report in his paperwork than he’d assumed and was now overwhelmed by it.

With a soft tap of her knuckles on the doorframe, (y/n) makes her presence known.

“Need some help?”

Ino jolts up so suddenly his chair is sent backwards, rolling away from the desk and tipping out of balance too, but he’s quick to steady himself, staring at her sudden figure at his door with wide eyes. It’s the only part of his expression she can make out, seeing as he’s still got his mask pulled over his face.

“(y/n)!” He greets her louder than he intended, but he had yet to shake off his surprise in seeing her. A fond smile tilts the corners of her mouth, unable to be helped as she watches him awkwardly scramble in his seat. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to consider leaving if you were crying under there” She teases, finally stepping foot into the room. Her eyes wander the bare gray walls, a slight frown taking over at how empty the whole space feels.

“No, I’m not-” Before he continues, Ino’s quick to yank his mask off his face, pulling it off his head completely and dropping it on his desk. “What brings you here?” He changes the subject completely, his eyes never leaving her figure as she wanders around the room as if looking for something.

He realizes then that she’s never seen his office- not that there was much to see, as she was coming to find- but nonetheless it’s odd that she’s the one approaching him for once. It was always Ino searching around the halls of Jujutsu Tech for her, not the other way around.

“So empty,” (y/n) comments quietly, and he’s not sure if she was talking to herself or him. “You don’t like to decorate?” She asks, this time turning to him.

“I’m not in here very much,” He admits, a sheepish smile on his face. “I take most of my paperwork home. If I’m here I’m not usually in the office”

“Yeah,” (y/n) smiles softly, ducking her head to hide the way her face warms up. “That’s cause you’re usually trying to bother me”

She doesn’t see it, but Ino’s face lights up. He bears a wide grin and his eyes gleam with excitement. She was acting quite out of character today. Usually he was the one teasing her. This was a real treat.

“Bother?” He repeats, standing up from his chair and rounding his desk to lean against it, completely ignoring the half-written report on his computer that he hadn’t hit save on in a while. “I don’t seem to remember ever bothering you”

She rolls her eyes, finally looking up at him, and Ino thinks he could combust from excitement. She’s blushing, which he’s not sure he’s ever seen before, and he can tell she’s fighting back a bigger smile behind the small one she shows him.

“Well what would you call it then?” She asks, still struggling to bite back a grin that mirrors his. So much joy poured out of him it was difficult to fight the way it took her by the soul and forced her to feel nothing but warmth and butterflies.

“Obviously I was romancing you,” Ino replies without missing a beat, surprising even himself with the blunt truth. Besides the way her eyes round into saucers, (y/n) doesn’t really react to the statement. “Not my fault you’re a hard person to flirt with sometimes” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, and then tucks his hands into his pockets.

(y/n) blinks a few times, staring him down like she was suddenly an expert in body language.

“I am?” She asks, a small laugh escaping her at the suggestion. “Because maybe I didn’t know you were flirting” She says with a shrug of her own.

Ino gapes back at her, unable to keep up with the chill facade when she says something so ridiculous.

“What do you mean you didn’t know?” He asks, and she laughs again, finally losing the battle to the grin on her face. “Was I not obvious enough? You know that even Gojo was trying to get me to-”

“Yeah, I know,” (y/n) says quietly, but it’s effective in getting him to shut up. “One of his students might’ve told me some rumors they heard from him” She explains.

“What!?” Embarrassment floods his features. “Who? I want names-”

“Can’t, teacher-student confidentiality and all” She teases.

She’s learning it was quite fun to not be on the receiving end of the playful banter. In the past it was always Ino with the perfect quip or joke to have her flustered for the rest of the day, even if she wouldn’t show it. Knowing he was actually incredibly easy to mess with felt like knowing his weakness.

“You’re not a teacher” He deadpans. She laughs again.

“Well, I actually came to let you know that certain sorcerers here were spreading rumors to slander your good name,” She tells him matter of factly. “But it appears those rumors are actually true, so they’re not really rumors, huh?”

Ino rolls his eyes, but it’s in no way directed at her. He makes a mental note to bring this up to Nanami to add to the very long list of grievances caused by Gojo Satoru.

(y/n) steps close to him, linking her fingers together behind her back as she finds the courage to hold eye contact with him.

“Why didn’t you just ask me out?” She asks.

He hates that she tilts her head to the side just so. She did it on occasion when she was confused about something, and Ino’s sure that she’s not even aware that she had that tendency, but every time she did it he was so overwhelmed by the urge to kiss her that most of the time he had to completely walk away from her.

But they’re in his office, having a conversation he really didn’t want to walk away from. If he ran now, there would be no coming back from it, and his intrigue in how she felt about him outweighed the aggravation she caused him when she looked that pretty.

He’s staring at her without saying anything, and he knows it’s been a few seconds too long to be comfortable, but it’s hard to care. She’s close enough to him that he can smell her perfume and see how every strand of hair falls over left shoulder and he can’t help but take in every pretty sight of her.

He once swore he wasn’t a desperate man, hence his patience in waiting while he tried to figure out how she felt before he made a move, but standing here now, what’s one promise in the grand scheme of life?

So he leans forward off his desk a bit, desperation getting the best of him.

“Would you have agreed?”

She raises her chin, the apples of her cheeks getting rosy in color despite her trying to play it cool.

“I asked you first”

“I asked you second”

That had her bursting out in laughter, hands falling to her hips.

“Oh, real mature!” She says through a fit of bubbly giggles.

It’s cute. It was so cute in fact, Ino just couldn’t take it anymore. The fun banter he’d tried to establish had now warped into his own personal hell.

And hell didn’t even have any boring office decorations, no succulents, no photo frames, not even a calendar.

“Just answer the question,” He says, and it comes out as more of a plea than he means for it to, but he doesn’t bother trying to compensate for it, or taking it back. “Would you have agreed to go out with me?”

He has a hopeful look in his eye that only seems to gleam more with every second that passes without her response. (y/n) softens, the warmth in her chest spreading throughout her entire body and making her melt like putty. It was almost pathetic, how quickly this little crush she’d harbored for the sorcerer had grown into something more genuine than she’s ever felt for anyone before.

“Yeah,” She answers simply, quietly, barely nodding her head along with her confirmation. “Yeah, I would have”

The smile he wears is so sweet and pure that she’s mirroring it in a heartbeat.

“Okay,” He thinks he’s going to pass out if he doesn’t hurry this up, so he rushes the next string of words out so fast (y/n’s) lucky she managed to understand him. “You wanna go out then? Tonight? For drinks? And then maybe dinner?”

She’s laughing as she nods, her hands nervously fiddling together.

“Okay,” She repeats, rocking back and forth on her feet just once. “But you should finish your report first. So, call me when you’re done?”

He wants to protest, but he knows she’s right. So as he hands her his phone to add herself as a contact, Ino mentally starts going through what he has to finish so he could get through it as quickly as possible.

She’s still grinning when she hands him his phone back, already eager for the day to be over.

“I’ll be quick, promise” He beams back at her as she makes her way out of his office.

“You pick where we go for drinks, and I’ll pick where we go for dinner,” She decides, lingering at the doorway for just a moment longer. “Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect” He’s back in his chair and clicking away at his keyboard as he writes nonsense into his report.

(y/n’s) gone with a little wave and a blush that only burns brighter the further away she gets. She just hopes she doesn’t run into anyone in the meantime.

Ino tries to work on his report after adding some meaningless fluff of things that didn’t really happen, and weren’t really necessary for the report. He really does try.

For five whole minutes.

But then he can’t help but open his phone to check on the contact (y/n) had just made for himself, and seeing the little orange heart emoji she’d added next to her name has him swooning way too hard- over an emoji, at least. But that’s what she reduced him to, mush.

(y/n’s) just reached the front steps of Jujutsu Tech when her phone starts blaring her ringtone in her pocket. She makes a face at the unknown number calling her, but it’s washed away as soon as she picks it up.

“Would you believe me if I said I finished already?” Ino’s speaking right away, without so much as a greeting.

She giggles into the receiver, because no, no she doesn’t.

“That’s quite impressive work” She praises.

“I think you’ll come to find I’m quite an impressive guy!” He responds, and then quickly follows it with, “Not in, like, a douchebag way though!”

She fights the urge to laugh any harder, not wanting to put him through any more embarrassment than he’s already suffered today. They still have an entire evening ahead of them, after all.

“Of course not,” She murmurs softly. “Meet me at the front steps, then? We can go into town together”

And when Ino’s there in under a minute, trying desperately not to show how out of breath he is, she doesn’t tease him for it. Not until later in the night after a few drinks in, anyways.

___

xoxo ~ jordie

#pls give me feedback on this <3 #takuma ino #takuma ino x reader #takuma ino imagine #ino x reader #ino imagine #takuma ino jjk #ino takuma x reader #ino takuma imagine #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #ino takuma fluff #takuma ino fluff #takuma ino x reader fluff #jjk x reader fluff

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enmi-land · 3 months ago

Text

ʬʬʬ 𝓨OUTUBE.COM ▹ NOW PLAYiNG . . .

ⓘ MiLA AND HER FAVOURiTE OPPA . . .

(˶ˆᗜˆ˵) FANMADE ViDEO. #2O24. ꗃ PREViEW A compilation of Mila being babygirl for Jay.

CLIP 1, INTERVIEW

for context: mila and kiara were asked who they thought the most manly member is in the group

“Uhhh, I don’t know about that.” Kiara laughs awkwardly at the idea. “I’m older than almost all of them, and I grew up with Heeseung since we were kids, so it’s hard to say. I don’t really… you know?”

“Ah, fair enough. They’re kind of like younger brothers, right? That would be awkward.” The interview nods in understanding when Kiara confirms. “In that case, what about Mila? Maybe not for the younger members, but you must have thought about your oppas, right?”

“Well…” Mila laughs shyly as her members all turn to face her. “They all have their charms. But when I think of the word ‘masculine,’ the first person I think of is none other than my Jay-oppa.”

The interviewer is surprised when Engenes watching the interview live start to scream at the top of their lungs. “Oooooh! I see—Jay seems very happy about this.”

The focus is now on Jay, who is smiling widely beside Mila while she hides her face behind her hand in embarrassment.

me and the ghost in my room: [*Theo slapping Keeho on the shoulder*]

“Now I’m curious. What makes you pick Jay, of all the members?”

“Well,” Mila says shyly, avoiding Jay’s gaze as he stares softly at her. “Ever since we met, he’s taken very good care of me—not that the other members don’t, but sometimes we have those times where we tease each other and all of that stuff. You know?”

The interviewer nods. “You like to play around, yes? Close friends who tease each other.”

Mila nods strongly. “Exactly like that! Jay-oppa isn’t like that, though. He’s a real gentleman. He’s always very gentle, and soft-spoken, and patient. He’s like the type of person people want their daughters to marry...”

And then Mila proceeds to hide her face behind Jay as Engenes go wild over their interaction. All the while, Jay can’t help the absolutely whipped look on his face as he smiles like an idiot.

[*Close up of Jay*] [“Boy who got you smiling like that?”]

CLIP 2, COMPILATION

to give you an idea of mila’s favouritism, let’s see the difference between mila with each of the 02z mila with jakehoon:

K-NEXT DOOR

“I was watching some of your clips, and I noticed something interesting,” Jonathan says. “Mila, you’re a 03-liner, right?”

Mila blinks. “Yes, that’s right.”

Jonathan turns to Jake. “Jake, you’re a 02-liner.”

Jake nods.

“In that case… Mila—why don’t you call Jake ‘oppa’?”

Mila bursts out laughing as if she’s just heard the funniest thing in her life, before she composes herself and turns to Jonathan. “Well, for one, we’re both foreigners and speak English when we’re alone. I got used to calling him by name, so it feels weird to call him oppa. And for another, it feels weird to call him my oppa when he doesn’t act like one.”

Jake looks at Mila in absolute shock as Jonathan’s jaw drops. Heeseung and Jungwon giggle among themselves, and Jake nods solemnly at the camera with his lips pressed into a thin line.

[*Close up of Jake with raining overlay*] [“Gwenchana, gwenchana, daeng daeng daeng daeng daeng.”]

WEVERSE LIVE

“The other day, I realised that I’m only three months younger than Sunghoonie-oppa,” Mila says all of a sudden. “Isn’t that so weird? I might as well be his friend, but he’s still considered my elder because he’s born in 2002. It’s so unfair…”

Mila pouts as she reads comments. “‘Just don’t call him ‘oppa’?” Mila laughs. “Right. I should just call him ‘Sunghoon-ssi’ from now on, haha. Or ‘Sunghoon-hyung.’ Can you imagine his expression? It would be funny…”

Mila bursts out laughing as she reads a comment.

“‘Just call him Sunghoon’? Yahhh, you’re trying to get me in trouble.” Mila looks thoughtful for a second after she says this. “But then again, I don’t really care if it’s Sunghoonie-oppa. He can just be mad at me, for all I care.”

She leans towards the camera with a cheeky smile.

“Should I do it, everyone?”

spoiler alert: she does it [*Compilation of Mila saying ‘Sunghoon-ssi’*]

[*Close up of Sunghoon’s reactions*] [“I never found you funny, I never found you entertaining—”]

[*Spongebob Narration* ‘Meanwhile’*] mila with jay:

EN-LOG

Mila is in the middle of eating at a restaurant when she receives a call. She looks at her phone to see who it is, and lights up when she sees the contact. She gasps excitedly. “Everyone, it's Jay-oppa!”

She shows her phone to the screen to see the contact which she saved him under: ‘the bestest oppa 😇’

(This is before they even date, mind you.)

[*Close up of Mila’s phone*] “THE BESTEST OPPA” 🤭✨

[*Cardi B squinting* “That’s suspicious, that’s weird.”]

She picks up the call and holds it to hear ear. In a cutesy voice that is out of character for Mila, she leans back in her chair and smiles, completely forgoing her food. “Hello?”

“What are you doing?” Jay asks.

“I’m just having lunch now.” Mila reaches up to twirl a strand of hair around her finger. “How about Oppa?”

mila whenever jay: [*Nayeon tucking her hair behind her ear*]

Jay hums. “That’s good. I came across a new chocolate store just now. I’m going to take a look now. Do you want me to buy you anything?”

[EN-Log captions: ‘Jay-oppa is too good to me ❤️’]

And from there, the two have a sweet phone call, with Mila looking like a giddy teenage girl as she talks.

“Mmm, okay,” Mila says as they reach the end of their call, but not without a pout. “I’ll let you go, then.”

“Get back home safely, okay? Call if you need anything.” Jay’s voice is soft, and Mila is smiling as she assures him that she will do as he says. “You hang up first.”

[EN-Log captions: ‘Jay-oppa, why are you so sweet to me? I’ll cry :(’]

Mila giggles. “Okay, okay. Bye bye~” She still smiles at her phone, even after she hangs up. She then turns to the camera and smiles. “Everyone, isn't my Jay-oppa the sweetest?”

“MY JAY-OPPA” 😫

jakehoon watching this: [“I just wanna be appreciated! I wanna be appreciated!”]

CLIP 3, WEVERSE LIVE

“‘Jay, will you marry me’?!”

[*Boom*]

Mila is flabbergasted after she reads out the comment, and looks up at the camera with a look of absolute incredulous indignation. Jay simply laughs at her expression. “Why, why? What’s with your expression?”

“No!” Mila says with a huff. “You can’t marry him!”

Jay looks amused as Mila glares at the camera, trying to intimidate. “Shouldn’t I have a say?”

“You can’t.” Mila latches onto his arm, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “There’s only one Jay-oppa in the world, everyone else can go find their own.”

[“Hold up! Wait a minute! Something’s not right!”][*Mirage effect*]

mila when engenes ask to marry ni-ki [*Mila saying, “Haha. Good luck with that. He’s a lot to handle.”*]

mila now: [*Mirage effect*]

“But you have to share with Engenes,” Jay says amusedly.

Mila turns to him with a pout and a signature pair of babydoll eyes that she always seems to wear around him—and which he’ll always fold to. “Tell them to ask someone else.”

🤨 [*Dwayne Johnson raising an eyebrow*]

Jay simply chuckles and turns to the camera. “Sorry, I can’t get married to you because our Mila doesn’t approve. You have to ask someone else to be your husband.” He looks back down at Mila. “Happy?”

Mila nods. She then proceeds to continue clinging onto his arm for the rest of the live, resting her cheek on his shoulder as she looks at her with a gaze that could melt butter.

🦋🦋🦋

CLIP 4, COMPILATION

This is basically just Mila getting shy and avoiding Jay’s gaze whenever she makes eye contact with him. It’s like she physically can’t handle looking into his eyes or she’ll be sucked into a vacuum.

mila when jay looks at her: [“Oh no, I hope I don’t fall.”]

CLIP 5, COMPILATION

proof that mila is jay’s baby part 298192: she always runs to jay when she needs something

EN-TER KEY

Mila realises she made a mistake during monitoring and looks at the camera. “I messed up…”

She doesn’t seem bothered by it because she laughs. But as a few seconds pass, she seems visibly worried as she avoids eye contact with the camera and looks away more than once, as if to use her face.

(This was during a period of time not longer after debut, where she was receiving immense hate for supposedly debuted without any talent.)

But then she seems to crack and turns her back to the camera, before making a beeline in a certain direction. As the cameraman follows her, they end up finding Jay, who is seated on a couch in the dressing room.

He immediately stands up upon seeing Mila, and worriedly asks her what’s wrong. He opens his arms to her and she immediately walks into his embrace, burying her face in his shoulder.

He brings a hand to her head and whispers something in her ear which the cameras don’t catch. But its clear that he’s doing his best to cocker her and shield her from the camera’s view.

EN-DIARIES

Mila is tasked with the mission of giving a member a makeover, which she complains will be entirely impossible to do for any of them. But then she decides to approach Jay, and follows him around the place, asking him (and only him) for help.

“Oppa, can you help me just this once?” Mila grabs onto his sleeve and tugs it to her. “Please?”

Jay pretends to ignore her, instead busying himself with looking inside the fridge. But instead of giving up and asking one of the other members, she persists, and does everything from clinging, whining, to even pretending to be upset.

“I’ve been rejected,” she mopes in the living room, purposely speaking loud enough for Jay to hear her. “No one loves me anymore.”

At this, Jay seems ro reach the end of his straw, and laughs to himself as he makes his way over to the sulking Mila on the couch. To keep the long story short, Mila eventually sits him down and happily puts a ribbon in his hair, while commenting how cute he looks.

SO SO FUN

Mila is in the middle of cooking something in the kitchen when she notices that something is a bit off. She gasps when she realises she forgot to add an ingredient, and starts to panic that she might have ruined the whole dish.

The first thing she does is take off to find Jay. “Oppa, are you busy?”

Jay looks at her with his full attention. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Mila looks slightly embarrassed and stands closer to Jay, with a hand slightly covering her mouth. He leans down closer as she basically whispers, “I made a mistake with the food. I think I messed it up…”

Jay, to his credit, seems unpaused. “Show me. We’ll see if we can fix it.”

Mila points out the food when she gets for the kitchen, looking disappointed as she walks Jay through every step she took. “Sorry,” she says with a frown as she finishes. “I’m so clumsy…”

“No, no, don’t apologise,” Jay reassures softly. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and places a comforting hand on her head. “We can still fix it. Come here, I’ll show you what to do if it happens again.”

MISCELLANEOUS

And again, Mila can be seen asking for his help or his comfort when she needs something, which he responds to like a hero to the rescue at every occasion. It’s really no surprise that he’s her favourite oppa. (Or so, JayMi shippers like to claim—just don’t let the MiSeung fans know.)

taglist⠀( OPEN ! ) ⦂ @em1ejiee @menichoi @dracoslovergirl @rosas-in-the-garden @blossominghunnie @lovelypham @cornenhapovs @nee-issaire @jwnstars @tommina @queenriki7 @onlyuyu

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thisonehere · 5 months ago

Text

The Lin Kuei boys find your diary and learn that you're in love with them

Mk Headkanons

A/n: Here you are, the winner of my recent poll. Just a little fun headcanon while I work on another request. It should be ready by Wednesday or Thursday.

Tags: MK1, Polls winner, invasion of privacy (but their hot so it's okay)

C/w: None

Bi-Han

This wasn't usually like Bi-Han, of all things the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei was, invading someone's privacy wasn't one of them. Until today of course.

Today was the 4th time in a row that you were missing from your training session with him. He would've thought that being allowed to train with the Lin Kuei's very own grandmother would be considered an honor. Yet here he was, standing alone looking like a fool waiting for you.

Bi-Han does not like being stood up, especially not by you. You whom he holds in such a high regard. He has so much respect for, he is generally fond of you, he feels things for you he can't even explain. So he goes to look for you, bringing him to your room.

He enters with even knocking, you don't deserve such a thing with how many times you stood him up. When he sees you aren't here he turns to leave, still eager to find, to let you know how hurt furious he is by your actions.

But before he can make it to the door, he sees something at the corner of his eye. A book. No, not just any book. Your diary.

Bi-Han thinks such things are stupid, and a waste of time. Nonsense made for children not adults. Surely anyone who partakes in this are ridiculous...But...this is your diary, and he doesn't think your ridiculous or a child at all.

He picks it up, showing care as he holds it carefully in his hands. He inspects from front cover to the back with a perplexed curiosity. Why would anyone have this? Why would you have this? He holds you in such a high regard that he views such trivial things as beneath you. What could be so important you would need have your very thoughts and deepest darkest secrets left on paper.

He knows his brothers wouldn't hesitate to open it and read. But not him though. Because unlike them he has restraint, he has strength, he has-

Bi-Han starts flipping through the pages. There has to be something in here that explains why you've so distant and absent lately. His eyes scan each and every word like they have a sacred meaning.

He especially looks for parts where you talk about him. Surely you will speak with utmost respect for your grandmaster. Maybe you explain why you've been avoiding him too.

Eventually he finds a part where you bring him up, he completely ignores the part where you talk about his brothers and goes straight t6o part where he is involved.

He takes notice with how you talk about him. You talk about how you felt butterflies in your stomach when you were near him, the way he made your heart race, the fear you had that he'd notice you blushing, how much you loved him, you wanted to be with him until the end of all time. You then go one to say the dirtiest, the most depraved things he has ever read in his life about him.

But Bi-Han reads on. He takes note of all the nasty things you'd like him to do to you. Part of him is slightly appalled. The other is very amused.

After staring at it for a while, Bi-Han clears his throat and sits the book back to where he found it and leaves.

From that point on, you can't help but notice that Bi-Han has been staring at you whenever you were in the same room. He is noticeably more patient with you than he was before. In fact, it's almost like he's being nice to you.

He has never really thought of you in such a manner before, but now, now you have his interest.

Kuai Liang

Like his brother, Kuai is a man very respectful of other people's privacy...sort of. Kuai will respect your privacy most of the time, he'll try to at least.

Kuai had been looking for you all day, he wanted to talk to you about a very private Lin Kuei business. He also wanted to see you again, just hearing your voice made his day better. But you were just friends so he never told you about it because then that would make things weird.

Kuai gets to your door and gently knocks before he enters. He happily calls your name as he enters. When he sees that you aren't present he disappointedly turns to leave. But he catches something in the corner of his eye.

He goes to pick it up, he doesn't really know what it is at first. He's not as familiar with concpt as Bi-Han and Tomas. So he opens it and starts reading. It doesn't take him long to figure out what it is after reading the first page.

After that something clicks and he goes to put it down and leave. Or that is at least what he wants to do. He is so tempted to continue that he has to remind himself how wrong thus is.

To continue reading is wrong. It's a violation of you, one of his closest friends. Besides, he is an honorable man, he believes in duty and respect and-

Anyway, now he is sitting on your bed reading through your diary like it's the Bible. He's basically halfway through the books so he convince himself that it's far too late to turn back now.

He is specifically interested in reading what you have to say about him. So he flips ahead to a writing log where you mention him. Kuai takes a deep breath before reading, he generally hopes you like him.

You talk about how nice you think Kuai is, how cool, also hot he is. Pun intended.

It took Kuai a few seconds to process what you just said. He reads on, finding more writing logs about him and they all say similar things about how attracted you are to him. He gets one specific one where you were talking about all the things you liked about him.

Kuai was overwhelmed with all this affection you had on paper for him. At the end, you confess that you have feelings for him, that you were in love with him.

Kuai couldn't believe what he was seeing, it was on paper in front of him yet he still couldn't believe it. He sets the book back where he found it and quickly leaves your room.

The next coming days were tough for him. Whenever he looked at you, all he could think about was your words. He was still in shock, this all felt so unreal. He stares into your eyes and wonders how long you felt this way, if you still feel this way.

He wants to come up to you, tell me that he feels the same way. But that would also mean he'd have to confess about reading your diary. Would you be forgiving if he tells you? Maybe, you'll just need time to forgive.

He will just fantasize about the potential future he could have with you if everything goes. Please, Elder gods of you're listening, let things go well.

Tomas

Tomas is a sweetheart, that is known. But he is also a very nosey sweetheart. Unlike his brothers, Tomas is a very curious person. That often is much to his and others slcurgrine

He comes to your room with the hopes of being able to hang out with you. Kuai and Bi-Han were always so busy so it was often you two who hung out the most.

Tomas enjoys the time he spent with you. Bi-Han and Kuai can often be pretty intense for him to be around, so he finds comfort with being just with you.

After knocking a few times he enters, much to his disappointment you aren't here. He goes to leave hoping to find you, until he notices your diary. It caught his attention the single second he laid eyes on it. He immediately recognizes what it is, he has one himself.

The thoughts of opening and reading all your dark and dirty secrets pop into Tomas's head instantly. I can't, he thinks. How could I possibly do this to you? I would be violating your personal space. There could be something in there that is really embarrassing, or be about your deepest darkest desires, maybe even someone you might have a crush on.

Tomas tries to fight off the temptation to read it, but he fails. He carefully picks up the book and opens it. Already he feels filthy with guilt.

He begins to look through it, every page feels like a sin to read, but he couldn't stop reading. The thrill of it all kept him going to the point that he already got through almost half of the book. He laughed at your most embarrassing stories, he felt sad when you expressed any tragedy or hardship you faced, he felt overjoyed at your victories.

He felt pretty good...until you began to talk about him and his brothers. At this point he got nervous at what you could potentially think about him and his brothers, especially him. It was pretty standard things, you thought Kuai was nice, Bi-Han was a hothead, and you thought Tomas was cute...wait...

Tomas's eyes grew ten inches wide at this. What? N-No, that's all wrong he has to read it again. Cute? What do you mean cute? Cute as in nice, o-or as in attractive. Surely you meant as in kind.

He flips forward, finding another log where you talked about him. Here you go into much more detail about how you felt towards Tomas, how much you loved, the way he made useful so giddy, you just wanted to plant kisses him all over his cute little face.

Tomas, jaw on the floor and eyes wide opened to the point of almost popping out, couldn't believe what he was reading. He cheeks were turning red with blush and he was without words as he continued reading. Okay, now he really regrets reading this.

In a panicked state, Tomas throws your book somewhere and runs out of your room.

The next few days were hell for Tomas. He felt like such a horrible friend. He betrayed your trust and privacy, and now he knows that you're in love with him. He feels horrible whenever he sees and remembers what he's read, how he invaded your privacy.

As he continues, Tomas can't help but think of you differently now. He fears that he's falling in love with you now. He thinks. He doesn't know.

Gods, he just wishes he never opened that book. Now he has developed feeling for you in such a rapid pace, he doesn't know what to do. Maybe he'll just have to confess to reading your diary.

He plans too eventually, the guilt eats him up every day. He just needs to work up the courage to do so. Hopefully you won't hate him, please don't hate him.

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cornchrunchie · 1 year ago

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After rewatching the Final Fifteen over and over again, I don't think Crowley wanted to kiss Aziraphale.

Look. I know we’ve all read a lot of different readings of ✨the kiss✨ and why it happened the way it did. It’s just that none of the posts I’ve seen so far captured exactly the feeling I was reading into the scene, so I thought I might as well share my interpretation. Because I don’t think Crowley wanted to kiss Aziraphale, actually. I mean of course he wanted to, but– let me explain.

I brought gifs and a little more heartbreak :)

First of all, I do agree with most of the interpretations going around. Crowley wanting to change Aziraphale's mind? Totally plausible. Wanting to show him what he’s losing? Probably. Taking the last chance he might get to finally kiss him? Yes, please!

What I mean when I say I don’t believe Crowley wanted to kiss Aziraphale are essentially two things, one of them being that Crowley didn’t plan on kissing him. He planned on leaving.

We know this because it’s exactly what he does.

The moment I come back to over and over again is when Crowley puts on his sunglasses and heads for the door.

Look how close they are to each other. Usually, you would expect the kiss to happen in a moment like this. All it would take Crowley is to lean forward. If he wanted to kiss Aziraphale and change his mind, he would do it right there. But he doesn’t. He nods in a way that screams: Right. This is a losing game.

Aziraphale had just told him that nothing lasted forever (so why should he stay) and he already put back his wall of defense (the sunglasses). Of course, we can't tell for sure but everything in his appearance tells us that for him, the moment between them is gone. The only chance he had decided to take had slipped through his fingers. It is time to leave. So he does.

Crowley does not stop until Aziraphale cries out his name and wants him to come back. He is not held back by his own desire but by his incapability to resist Aziraphale’s cry for help. Not that these things can’t be connected – but look at his body language, look how reluctant it seems, annoyed almost.

It looks like he really doesn't want to stay. At the same time, he doesn’t want to hurt Aziraphale. He wants him to know that he cares. It’s not easy for him either. So he stays. Listens to what Aziraphale has to say.

But it hurts even more. Crowley doesn't even bear to look at him. Aziraphale just doesn’t understand him, doesn’t understand the way Heaven works, even after all these years. At least, that’s what Crowley thinks. Everything that made the air around them vibrate, every nightingale that ever sang, is now dead silent. Crowley says so himself.

This is not him pathing the way for a kiss. This is him saying goodbye.

And then he says: “You idiot. We could have been –“

Maybe he doesn’t quite know what exactly he wants to say or maybe he does but he doesn’t know how.

“– us.”

His voice is trembling. He lets the words linger in the room between them. Note how he is already speaking in the past tense. We could have been. But we’re not.

However, Crowley admits that the possibility of them being an Us was there, hence the possibility of everything that being an Us means to him. It drips from his toungue, every moment and every feeling he connects to the sense of being an Us. You have to remember the feeling to voice it, even when you do it to say goodbye.

And I think – we’re getting to the essence of this post – I think what happens is that Crowley gets overwhelmed by his own words, or rather: by grabbing his feelings and putting them into words, by the implication of them as an Us and everything he imagined it would have been for them. And what it means to lose it.

And I don’t think he consciously decides to kiss Aziraphale. I don’t think he wanted to kiss him in the sense that he didn’t want to take this step and actually do it. He had already lost.

(We could have been us but we’re not.)

They are still too far away from each other.

(We’re not. But we could have been.)

Eventually, Aziraphale averts his gaze, and turns his head to the side.

And this! This is the moment Crowley steps forward! Let me emphasize it once again because I do believe it’s crucial to Crowley's change of heart.

Aziraphale looks away. And Crowley snaps.

He snaps like a rubber band you pull at for too long, like the clip of a ballpoint pen cap you push too hard upside. It’s not a conscious decision. It’s a reflex. Like closing an app on your phone and opening it again directly after. Like someone calling your name and you turn your head in the direction of the voice. You don’t think about it. It just happens.

And I think Aziraphale looking away was the last straw that held the rubber band in place. The last thing that kept Crowley from falling once again. I genuinely don’t believe he would have kissed Aziraphale if the latter had continued to look at him. Too scary, right? Too real. Too close.

So this is the second thing I mean when I say that Crowley didn’t want to kiss Aziraphale. Of course, he wanted to but he didn’t make a deliberate decision. He just … gave in.

And when he pulls away, he knows that everything between them has changed. He waits for Aziraphale’s reaction, everything about him is tense.

And if he dared to hope for anything at all, it surely wasn’t this.

Forgiveness.

"I forgive you."

I forgive you for giving in.

Don't bother.

So Crowley does what he wanted to do in the first place – and leaves.

He didn’t plan on kissing Aziraphale. He wanted to leave, maybe even to prevent this from happening. And when it happened, I don’t think it’s because of ulterior motives like changing Aziraphale’s mind or grabbing the opportunity as it presented itself to him.

I’m not saying these motives aren’t there – in fact, I pretty much believe so! I'm just saying that maybe he didn’t think about them when kissing Aziraphale and that he didn’t decide to kiss him because of that.

Maybe this is more than obvious to everyone else already and I'm stupidly rambling to myself. Also, I'm truly sorry if I overlooked another analysis of this.

I just don’t think there was time in Crowley’s head to reflect on any of his feelings.

I think he was just not holding back anymore.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffible husbands #meta #good omens season 2 #final fifteen #crowley x aziraphale #s2e6 #aziraphale x crowley #analysis #aziracrow #gif #good omens meta #mine #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #the kiss #ineffable breakup

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ajortga · 8 months ago

Text

just too late

pairing: tara carpenter x fem!reader

summary: where tara can't help but regret the outcome of her consequences, she was just too late. how can a heart love if it is no longer beating?

warnings: massive angst, death, stabbing, blood

word count: 3.5k+

a/n: based of a request i got on wp! honestly, i wrote this months ago and got to the end, but their request was so similar that i redid it. posting a small second part soon<3 also omg, thank you for 500 followers!

You had just visited Tara, a bouquet of roses in one hand as you knocked on the door. You had seen them when walking to her apartment and you knew that they were just perfect for her. You had to get them. As you heard the lock of the door click, Tara opened the door. She peeked out and saw you, smiling shyly. You thought she'd smile back, but instead her smile dropped.

That had never happened before.

"Y/N, we need to talk.

You knew something was wrong, something bad was going to happen. Your breath got stuck in your throat as she stepped aside to let you in. You knew the next thing that would happen would not be good.

fast forward 20 minutes

You stood there in Tara's apartment, Sam eyeing you with a penetrating death glare. You felt like sinking into the floor right there and then. You hated this kind of silence.

Sam broke the quietness, her gaze stern, "Y/N, this isn't going to work out between you and Tara." She states, crossing her legs as she sighs, "All of it just adds up."

You shake your head, but before you can retaliate, Sam speaks again.

"You know it too. You started dating my sister two weeks prior before the first ghostface attack. The police found your necklace right next to the victim, covered in blood. I can't trust you and have you near my sister. All of us," she states, twirling her finger in a circle, "Are in danger and I can't let my baby sister get hurt again. None of us trust you, not Mindy, not Chad, and definitely not me. You are going to stay away from her, no more coming over or seeing each other at school. Do I make myself clear?"

"You believe a piece of evidence that barely proves anything? They didn't even find my DNA anywhere!"

"Gloves."

You felt rage crawling its way out, you couldn't believe your girlfriend's sister would think you're the killer. Sam knows all too well how much Tara loves you. "You know I wouldn't hurt you! Least of all Tara! I love her with my whole heart and I would never even think of that! I-I don't know how my necklace got there, someone framed me!" You turned to Tara, blinking away tears that stung your eyes, "Tar.. You believe me right? Please tell her. I didn't do anything! Please don't leave me."

"Please.." you begged. You saw the way her gaze slightly cracked, you knew she didn't believe you. You could feel it, you wouldn't care for fucks sake if Mindy, Chad, or Sam didn't believe you. But Tara was different. It felt like a swing to the heart, it hurt so much. It felt heavy.

Tara didn't do anything but give you a hurt look, staring down at her fingers. You expect her to throw her arms around you, tell you that they all got it wrong and you can both live happily ever after in the end. Yet she doesn't.

"I'm sorry Y/N," she forces her shattered voice in her normal tone, swallowing a cry clawing to come out, "I don't trust you anymore, I don't love you. I-I never did. I just.. Don't think you should visit anymore. We're done."

You felt like your whole heart shattered at that moment as you heard her last two words. You looked at her as you sobbed in your hands. Hurt, mournful, betrayed.

All that Tara said was, "You need to get out please," her eyes pink and glossy.

"You don't understand Tara, please I'm begging you-"

"Y/N, I'm not going to say it twi- It's n-not me Tara!" you say, this point a small cry escaping you. The way Tara looks at you is wild.

Your girlfriend's voice raised, with a fury, she wasn't going to say it again, "Get the hell out! Do you need me to say i-it twice? I don't fucking love you! I don't want to see your face again!"

You flinched, you never felt more heartbroken in your life. Your heart hurt, it felt like someone had smashed it with a hammer. Tears that threatened to fall down were now dropping on the floor. All the moments you've spent together were now thrown away, stomped on. You felt your body shaking as you toss the flowers, leaving them to fall on the floor with a thud.

You simply nod, slowly.

"Fine." You say, more flat than ever, turning to leave as you feel the petals get stepped on by your shoe.

All you wanted was to brighten your girlfriend's day, entering with flowers in your hand and just wanting to cuddle her all day long. Yet, here you are, your girlfriend now turning into you ex, flowers dead, no cuddles, no more trust.

Tara felt horrible, the guilt eating her alive. All of her words were lies, she just knew that if you were to separate from her, she would keep you safe. You wouldn't be the target for ghostface if he thought you were just a normal person in Woodsboro. You would be safe. She tried to assure herself that as you slammed the door.

Her eyes met the squished flower that escaped from the bouquet on the floor and she wondered if she'd ever get flowers from you again after everything.

You stared at the picture frame placed on the counter of you and Tara together hugging with matching clothes, you choked on your sobs. Tara nor your friend group had chatted with you since then. Sam had blocked you on social media. At least your other friends had came along and checked up on you to make sure you were okay. Tara had sent a few messages, saying she was sorry that things had ended up like this, but to realize you blocked her.

You couldn't function properly, your eyes were dry with the amount of tears you released in the past week.

It's not your fault, you tried to assure yourself. You weren't ghostface. You can't believe the person you trusted most didn't even put her trust in you.

Maybe it all is your fault. Maybe if you were different, in personality, how much the core 4 really liked you, you wouldn't be here, crying like those teens in the movies that just feast on a gallon of ice cream. It makes you cry a little harder while you hug your teddy bear.

Especially the taunting memory of Tara screaming at you, tears blurring your vision as you stumbled back out of her apartment. Sam's eyes softening just a little bit, not meaning for this to happen. Yet you didn't even try looking into her eyes, too caught up with your own feelings to feel her sorrow.

The past few days, you've locked yourself up, abandoned school. Ignored the core 4, blocked Tara and the other three.

Your mind wandered, you were clouded in your own thoughts as you sobbed angry and hurtful tears. You cried to the point where tears stopped falling, and you were left with feeling nothing and your body feeling sore. Your breathing was still heavy, you let out heavy shaky breaths, but they started to cool down.

You closed your eyes, focusing on your breathing, until you heard your phone buzz from the ground. You picked it up, there was a message.

A part of you expected your friends to check up on you, since that's what they've been doing every since you've stopped going to school. Instead, you were met with a picture from unknown of the abandoned movie theater not too far from here. There, you saw the camera facing a knife pointing towards Tara and Sam, threatening, daring.

Your eyes widened, as you immediately take your keys and bust out the door, grabbing a small knife, maybe you'll need it, unblocking Tara and calling her and all of those you knew must be in there. They're in danger.

Each call leads to voicemail, from both Tara and Sam, you search up their location. The only one shared for you is Tara's. You almost smash it to the front of your phone holder, locating where they are at.

As much as you hurt, you knew that you would never heal knowing that someone you loved was at risk. The car engine roars to life as you head for the theater.

With each texts and call ignored, you get paranoid, worried sick. Stepping on the accelerator of the car, your car turns a corner and is out of sight.

"She fell for it, she's coming your way," a taunting voice rasps into their phone, Ghostface.

"Our plan is just setting into action."

Carefully, you slip into the door of the run down theater. You hear clatters, and immediately you freeze, hiding a corner and peeking out. Tara's scream echoes through the theater, your eyes widen and you look around, for something sharp.

This is a stupid shrine committed to ghostface, you realize. It makes it a little better, at least you're guaranteed a knife to defend and fight with?

You sweep a corner, the room your in is silent, and you creek down the floor board, being greeted with glass display cases.

You're not good with blood, yet there's evidence from ghostface's mark years ago. TV's, a knife laced in the red crimson color. A gag almost leaves your lips, yet you open the display case and your hands grasp around a cool metal. It's a knife alright, not too sharp if you were to drop it you wouldn't cut your whole toe off. Yet it's do-able.

"Tara?" your voice echoes, walking around and exploring, you're frantic. You keep hearing her voice mail ring through your ears and your worry increases.

You thought the room you were in was obsessive with ghostface, yet when you go into the middle of this shrine, it's filled with obsessive things. Masks, robes, knives, even the TV that Stu Macher was killed by. A shiver escapes you.

You look up, and you see the chaos going, glass shattered on the floor, action buzzing around. You see Tara.

"Tara!" You shout, trying to keep your voice low, your eyes meeting the ladder that goes up, you climb on it, grunting in effort. You climb, climb, climb, climb, until you reach the top.

Tara is with Sam, they're talking about their plan, they're a couple hundred feet away from you. The sister's clothes are smothered in blood, Sam's arm has a wound, and you feel sick seeing the blood seeping from your girlfriend's clothes.

Your about to say her name, until you see a shadow emerge. It's not any that you know, this one is dark, tall, more man-like.

It's not until you see the tilt of their head the sliver of light reflecting off their mask. Ghost face.

You don't know what gotten into you from the adrenaline from the moment, but your legs begin to run, move, nothing sounds more fitting than slow motion. His knife lifts from his chest, the sharp metal edge glistening.

You try to scream, the words bubble up in your throat, comes out in a dry cough.

Your legs feel like jelly, run faster, damnit.

They can't see him, he's behind them, tucked just 2 feet away in a corner, yet you see him. You can save Tara and her older sister, you can save the both of them, you have time.

You can save the both of them, your love outplays your brain. It's telling you to stop, you're going to get killed. But your heart overwhelms it, beating quicker, with each beat all you can hear is

Tara

Save

Her!

Tara

You

Have

Time.

The knife ghostface is holding gets brought down.

"Tara!" You finally scream, it comes out as a desperate cry as you lunge towards her. Her eyes turn from the setting below her to you, confusion, then shock as your hands shove her shoulders. The strength you built up finally goes to use, pushing her out of harms way, she shoves into Sam, as they both stumble back.

You hear them both say your name, confusion at first, before the second time they holler it out. It's a scream, yet it dies down in your ears, feeling the cool metal of the blade slam into your shoulder. The ring from Tara's screams fade, replaced with the blood pulsing in your ears. The pain, the sharp knife sinking into the flesh of your shoulder. All you can do is let out a soft cry, too tired to scream.

Your eyes water, looking up at ghostface, the ugly mask boring into your eyes. He tilts his head, shocked for a moment. Until he tilts his head back again, like the target he hit is even better than what he wanted. They didn't expect you so soon.

The knife tears out from your flesh, a sob leaves your throat, kicking and flaring your arms.

"Y/N!" Tara screams your name, this one you can hear. She's crying, sobbing, wailing. Begging for her older sister to let her go and save you.

Sam shushes her, all they can do is watch. All Tara can do is watch you suffer.

His knife slams into you again, your abdomen. You hear a disgusting squelch as it goes in. The pain is unbearable, this stab hurts even more than anything you can think about. You thought the 4 foot thorn going through your foot was bad. You cry, grabbing the knife that's tucked into your pocket and slam it against the black coat, right where the neck meets the shoulder.

A raspy whisper escapes your lips, "F-fuck you." You snarl.

You barely hear him grunt. Yet he doesn't back down, in fact, you hear the disgusting squelch again.

And again.

The pain lessens. You know why. You're dying.

You can't hear it anymore, but there are now several stabs on your abdomen. You collapse, blood seeping through your clothes, your hands, your face. It's warm, dark red, spreading. It oozes out of your wounds, and the squelching sounds are gone. Your eyes flutter, seeing the flurry of the white masked figure leaving you to rot. Your body collapses to the floor with a loud crash.

You saved Tara, you would die before he could ever kill her. Before she could ever die. If Tara died, you'd kill yourself, or you'd die quicker from a broken heart.

Sam's yelling, kicking ghostface as he lets go of you, you can barely see her bringing him down to the bottom floor, both of them collapsing off the second story.

Your eyes begin to close, your breath comes in short heaves and wheezes.

And then, you see her, barely, through your weak vision.

It's blurry at first, but you know it's Tara, who else would look so good with blood all over her face?

She presses her body down to you, her warmth barely seeping through, your body is colder. Those warm, soft eyes are wide, looking so scared, hands pressing down deeper to your stomach, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Fuck, no. Nononono.. Why the hell would you do that?" She yells at you, shaking your body, you whimper.

You barely respond, croak her name out, cough out blood.

She's crying, you realize, she's choking on sobs as she cradles you, lifting your body up to her chest. She smells like your favorite scent, sweet.. light.. vanilla.. So lovely.

You just want to be in her arms forever. Let her sweetness soothe the pain.

"Y/N," she sobs, seeing the way you're struggling to stay conscious, you're only holding on because she's there. She can tell the way your eyes are slowly glassing over, your vision is twitching, blurring, un-focusing.

Don't cry, you want to tell her, even though you know you're here, dying in your girlfriend's arms. But you're too weak to speak, instead, let a slurred murmur leave you. Her hand is clinging to yours, like if she were to let go you would immediately fall away.

"It's okay baby," Tara sniffs, clinging to you. Like if she lets go you'll shatter, "I'm here, help will come soon. Stay with me. Eyes on me baby."

You look at her, your girlfriend, being in her arms. She has a small wound, around her arm to her shoulder, yet it's barely bleeding. Being here, in her arms. It's your favorite thing ever, you've done it so many times to feel her warmth. You never thought you would not be in Tara's arms at night with you buried against her.

Yet you know it's your last time you'll be in them. You can barely feel the warmth she's trying to transfer to you, you're freezing. She senses it too, the way she's hugging you tighter. Pleading you to stay here, with her. The brunette squeezes your hand, distracts you from the pain that's already leaving. Along with your pulse.

"I'm so fucking sorry," she sobs, "I love you so much, you don't fucking understand," she wails. Pulls you closer to her, "I should have never left you, you mean the world to me, I never meant what I said. I t-thought I could protect you if ghostface knew that you were no longer in our circle."

You wheeze, your eyes never looking away from hers. She notices, how you're studying her, like the moment you don't, you'll forget how she looks like in heaven.

Freckles, doe-shaped crying eyes. You lift her hand to your chest, let her feel your heart, to let her know that your giving her your heart, your love. You don't want her to forget about you.

You don't want to die.

Yet if you don't want her to die, you'll die before she could ever.

Tara's still sobbing, ripping her shirt and tying it against your stomach, the blood seeps through, she tightens it. Looks worriedly down at you.

Ugly shapes of swiggles and dots cloud, you see random shapes flying. Try to focus on Tara.

Sirens ring in the distance, Tara looks back, yet immediately looks back at you. A tear falls from her stained mascara cheeks, down your shirt. Weakly, you bring it up and wipe her cheeks. Assure her it'll be okay. Yet she knows it's not. They're just too fucking late.

You saved her. That's all that matters now.

"It's all my fault, I'm so sorry my love. I never meant to hurt you. I never thought it would end so soon. I don't want you to die."

You swallow, blood slightly gurgles through your throat, use your dying strength to speak, "I'm h-here." You croak, "T-tara."

"I love you so much," you slur, hiccupping on a cry. Trace the matching necklace she gifted the two of you years past on her neck. You're wearing it too. Hers was silver, yours was gold. A silver and golden dove.

The blood loss is too much, you can barely speak. But she's here with you, in your last moments. You're able to have a goodbye you might not have had. She might not be ready, but you almost are.

Time wasn't in your favor. It really wasn't.

This isn't goodbye this is a simply see you later.

She's okay, knowing that makes you feel a little more okay. A little more okay and soothe the worries.

Tara plays with your necklace. A proper goodbye. Her eyes glisten with tears, and she leans down, presses her lips to yours. You kiss her, knowing it'll be the one you'll live to feel. Then you slump back down on the concrete. You don't care about anyone but her anymore. Sirens holler, people bust into the theater, and you look up at her, taking off her necklace and putting it into the palm of her hand.

"I w-want you to promise me one thing."

She sniffles, tears wont stop anytime soon, keeps tying cloth around your deep wounds. It's no use. She nods, "Y-yeah?"

"Promise me y-you won't forget me. E-even when you find someone you love, maybe even more than me. You won't t-throw.." You pause, coughing, "T-throw our memories away. Promise me that. That when your h-hands hold theirs, you realize that mine was once warmer. When you're by yourself on F-Friday nights, you'll remember that you used to come to mine and cuddle m-me." You hiccup, losing your train of thought, blinking, your words are barely audible, yet Tara can still make them out.

"...When you look at the stars on the grassy meadow, you'll remember that that's the spot we always w-went to to get our thoughts out of things," you barely giggle, it hurts your stomach. "A-and, when you look at all my pictures, or maybe one day I won't pass your mind for once, you'll be ready to let me go. The thought of me still being here. Y-you'll be able to love, even though I might still scar your heart."

She sniffles, seeing the way you begin to struggle on your words, they grow quieter.

"But I won't let that happen, I don't want your h-heart t-to scar," You place her hand on your chest again, "You can have mine."

Tara swallows her tears, still, they drop.

"I love you, Y/N," she sniffles, it's the same word from every other time you both said you loved each other. Yet this time, it's so fucking different. It's the last time you'll ever hear her say it to you while you're still hear. "I'll never love anyone more than I loved you."

"I love you too, Tara," you whisper. It's the last time she'll ever hear it from you. A small, weak smile cracks on your face as she leans down one more time, kisses you softly, taking the last breath from your lips.

And it's time to go. Your chest stills.

And for the last time, she hears your heart beat one more time.

A heart that once beat for her was gone.

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega imagine #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x reader #vada cavell x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #vada cavell x y/n #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x female reader

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barleyo · 2 months ago

Text

Build-A-Bride.

Enji Todoroki X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: i can't stop writing broken enji... he's so depressed and lonely i LOVE it ^_^ isn't he just so dreamy? all downtrodden and sad? anyways this is so half-assed, sorry!

Tags: dub-con, forced/arranged marriage (sort of), age gap, mostly plot tbh (minimal smut), brief mentions of dehumanization, breeding, creampie, p in v, size difference, language barrier

Wordcount: 1.8k

Women don't like divorcés. It's a mark of failure. It brings down one's stock value. Enji's mistakes with Rei were numerous. He knew it was for the best, that he had nothing to fight for when she had the papers mailed to him. Why would he argue with her about it? The kids had all grown up and moved out. Their assets were easily separable. She did not ask for much in the split, and even if she did Enji would have given it up without pushing back.

He was a man defeated. What point would there be in chasing after Rei again? He did not love her; not truly, at least, and she certainly did not love him. They had been living stagnantly ever since she was released from the hospital. It would be a feat for them to even speak to each other over breakfast. Idle chat about the weather or what their adult children were doing was a rare treat.

Enji's life had slowed significantly. No children to fill his too-big-for-one-man house and no woman to be kept company by. Work had slowed down. Younger heroes took the top spots, slowly but surely. Even his own son was predicted to soon surpass him. Old timers, or "Golden-Age Heroes", as the media titled them, were losing fame and fortune alike. No longer the hot commodity, old was out, new was in.

He expected it, really. His goal was to be the number one hero, and he was for a while. Was it his dream to remain number one? He didn't have time to think about it before he got knocked down to a measly third place in the ranks.

He had thrown so much of himself into the hero life. It crossed his mind a few times, it all ending, but he never realized that it would come crashing down so soon. What friends he had, using the term very lightly, were less than helpful in his condition.

None less so than Hawks, of course. That damned fool.

Keigo had been dragging Enji out to these annoyingly quaint cafés for a while now. He'd force piles of biscotti and scones onto Enji's plate while blabbing on about some new excursion of his or the other, taking up the prime hours of Enji's day in the name of socializing.

Seldom it was that Enji left the impromptu meet-ups with anything but slight annoyance at best and utter exhaustion at worst. He could hardly pay attention to the meaningless drivel Keigo threw his way. Sometimes it was talk of the current hero ranks, which Enji immediately tuned out. Other times it was about a concert or movie Keigo was going to.

Lately, though, Keigo had an interest in trying to play matchmaker for Enji.

"You should really get out there," he said, smug little smile plastered on his cheeky face while he sipped his espresso. "You aren't getting younger."

Enji's response was the same as always, in that he was too busy and too old to be worrying about such things. "I do not have time to woo a woman like a schoolboy. I'm fine where I am," he responded with his arms resting on the café's comparably small table.

Keigo chuckled, curling his lips upwards. "You can only spend so many nights with your right hand, Endeavor."

"Shut your damned mouth."

"If you won't let me set you up with someone," Keigo said, not taking Enji's gruff tone seriously, as usual, "there is another option."

Enji pressed his mouth closed tightly, eyes narrowing into a judgmental squint. "It had better not be online dating."

Defensive hands flew up. "No, no. You've made that pretty clear, man. I'm talking about getting, like, a mail-order bride or whatever they're called."

"You do realize how much that sounds like human trafficking, right?"

"It does not! They still do it, you know. There are websites and everything."

Enji sighed and leaned his head back to look up at the ceiling. The idea sounded horrible. God only knew how sketchy something like that would be, and besides, how horrible were the moral implications of that? Some old bastard like himself purchasing a young girl like a farm animal.

It wasn't completely unheard of. Plenty colleagues of his had foreign brides ordered for them. Even his own cousins had done similar things. Hell, he wasn't far off from trying it out to get the perfect quirk marriage before he found Rei.

But now? It sounded cruel. Unnecessary. He already resented himself for how he treated his family— he didn't need to ruin the life of some other woman too.

"I am not going to order a wife," he said, voice strained, "like a spare part off of eBay. Do you not see how horrible that would look on me?"

Keigo waved his hand dismissively, unbothered. “It’s not like that. These women are looking for a chance at a better life," he explained before teasingly adding, "just like the lonely men who send for them."

Enji stared at him, trying to decipher if he was serious. “You really think I'm desperate enough to buy some random woman?"

"Don't think of it like 'buying.' Think of it as rescuing. How will the press feel about that, hm? Imagine the headline: ‘Endeavor, the hero with a heart, saves a foreign damsel in distress by bringing her to Japan to live a new life of riches and mind-blowing sex!'"

"You disgust sometimes, you little brat."

Keigo leaned over the table, teeth flashing briefly as he spoke. "Just think about it, okay? I'll send you some links tonight." He got up and pushed his chair in with his foot. "Besides, I'm tired of being your only friend. These little 'dates' of ours are cutting majorly into my work."

Keigo had compiled a ridiculously long list of websites and companies that specialized in international marriage deals. He had definitely committed to the bit too much or he had researched this topic heavily before presenting it to Enji via text.

Either way, Enji peered at his cell phone screen in distaste. Link after link, scrolling through the masterlist Hawks compiled, he just felt more unsure of the idea. The names of the sites left a strange feeling in his gut.

GoldenBride, Rose Brides, Latidate. For fuck's sake, UkraineBride4You dot com? "Legitimate & Cheapest Mail Order Bride Sites! Click here for more!"

He clicked his phone off. The light from the vibrant ads and taglines disappeared from his face as quickly as they appeared, leaving him in the dark of his bedroom. He didn't speak, he just stayed in his bed, leaning on the headboard in silence.

He had gotten used to his house being quiet. It was never especially loud, but at least when the kids still lived at home, he could hear the sounds of life. Of Shoto's feet padding through the halls. The sound of Fuyumi's books opening and closing. Natsuo's grumbling under his breath. Proof that he had gotten them all this far— that he had done something right for them.

No. He couldn't stay this way, living in the dark silence, figuratively and literally. He turned his phone back on and clicked the highlighted link with the least concerning name.

Well, you were just the perfect little thing, weren't you? Young, pretty, doe-eyed, and sweet. After perusing a website that looked less criminal than he thought it would, Enji decided on you. He had to have you.

You stood out immediately from the pages of other women. All of them were, of course, gorgeous. They would not be advertised if they weren't. You, though. There was something about you. You were small—Enji liked that—but not frail. Built for carrying children was what you were, he decided, with your soft curves and buxom build.

Your profile did not give much away. Basic information and a little greeting. It intrigued him enough, so clearly it worked.

The two of you chatted for a few weeks, if you could call it that. There was little getting to know each other and more plane tickets being purchased and pick up times being arranged. To say that you had him hooked was an understatement, especially considering the only tools you had to connect with him were shitty translations of your language to his from Google and emojis.

Everything about you read as gentle. Docile. Probably the only personality Enji was equipped to deal with. He would just die if married to a combative woman. His enemies would love to see him nestled up with a loud, abrasive one with a temper to match his own.

No, you would do quite nicely, with your limited speaking and non-provoking nature. You were the perfect escape, a blank canvas onto which he could project his hopes for a new life onto. He could start a family over again. He could fix his mistakes and move on. Maybe, just maybe, he could forgive himself.

The flood of ideas filled him each time his phone buzzed with your messages, even if they were often short and punctuated by misunderstandings and screwy sentences due to poor translations. He found himself counting the days until your plane would take off to bring you to him, to his home. He had plans for you.

Things moved quickly with your new husband. Just last week your flight landed. Then you were saying "I do," and now he had you bent in positions unimaginable.

He worked fast. His hands were large and rough, but God, they were efficient. Thick fingers rubbed at your clit. A thicker cock prodded at your entrance. You wriggled beneath him a bit, eyes widening at the stretch.

You didn't have the words to tell him you were a virgin, but you didn't have the desire to stop him either.

"Hold still, you," he said, voice gentle in comparison to how rough his strokes were. "You've got to let it adjust."

Even if you could understand his words, the heat burning your ears drowned out any sound completely. Fullness filled you everywhere. Like a missing piece you never knew you didn't have.

"Ah, you still aren't broken in yet for me," he muttered to himself. He watched as your struggles to swallow him into your walls. "Virgin, yeah?"

You mumbled incoherently to yourself, feeling his words cast over your face. More or less, you understood the tone of his words and hummed in agreement, hands playing with your tits absent mindedly.

Pain tinted moans escaped you. Enji felt good, sure, but a warmth of discomfort passed through you with every inch of him. Your mind told you yes, but your body tried to reject him. He was simply too big, and too much.

Not that it would stop him.

He spat on his length to ease the friction. A steady hand stayed over your clit, abusing it to the point of overstimulation. He wanted this to be pleasurable for you, but he had a goal in mind.

The load or two he had pumped into you earlier wasn't enough. He wouldn't dare give up yet, especially not with the adrenaline rush hearing you whine gave him.

Besides, your plane ticket was expensive. He planned on getting paid back in spades.

#enji todoroki x reader #enji todoroki #endeavor x reader #enji x reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #endeavor x you #tw dubcon #tw: dubcon #my hero academia x reader

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basketball-lesbians · 21 days ago

Text

Freefall

summary: The thing about Paige and Azzi is they were never any good at staying away from each other. Even when they really should.

The fwb pazzi fic that quite literally nobody asked for but I’m providing anyway.

pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

contents: angst, hurt/comfort, smut, fluff occasionally if you squint, fwb, cheating

disclaimer:

As the story progresses, some of this will be out of character for Paige, especially with Azzi (she's lowkey an asshole at times in this storyline). There is cheating in this fic (NOT between Paige and Azzi), I don't condone it, but I did write it. I literally just wrote this because I could not get the prompt out of my head and bc I think it’s hot, lol. None of this has been beta’d, please do not repost/distribute anywhere else. Hope you enjoy these silly gay bitches being obsessed w each other :)

—

It was something they’d fought about a thousand times: the impending end of their time together at UCONN, whether Azzi would declare, how they would manage being thrust into being a long distance relationship again- if the cards fell that way.

Each time they’d fought about it, they would inevitably come to a resolution that it wasn’t worth stressing about before they had to- that they should treasure the moments they had left and live in the moment while it lasted. No matter how much that conclusion equally made Azzi’s stomach turn, ever the over-thinker, Paige would soothe her with that sweet, gentle voice she reserved for only her, and brush her loose curls behind her ear as she pressed sweet kisses to her face, and Azzi would let it go.

This time though, they hadn’t had such luck. They’d been arguing ahead of the season starting for an hour- loud enough that it echoed off the walls of the shared apartment, leading Ice and the other girls to take it as a sign and leave to give them privacy.

“No Paige, you’re not listening to me!” Azzi shouts, tears welling in her eyes as she flings her hands in a gesture of frustration that shows her desperation.

“How the fuck am I not listening to you?” Paige bites back defensively, her tone hot with anger. At that, Azzi scoffs, turning around to wipe the tears from her eyes harshly. The site of her back turned as she sniffles and wipes her face clearly melts away at Paige’s resolve, and it’s quiet for a ten count before her voice softens. “Baby, we’ve been at this for an hour.” She says, clearly exasperated.

“No. For months.” Azzi corrects pointedly, turning on her heel to meet Paige’s gaze. Her voice is unsteady, but the words are sharp and sure. There’s sincerity behind it, and they both know the implications of what she’s saying as it settles into the room.

It hangs heavy in the air between them, but neither of them manages to address it, just staring at each other. “And we’re no closer to resolving it.” It slips from her lips before she really thinks about it, and even though she means it, she feels bad as soon as she says it. She knows it was a low blow, speaking something aloud that so evidently assigned blame to Paige’s career.

Paige’s frame suddenly seems small in the low lighting of the room. She stares at the ground midway between them, not quite bold enough to look Azzi right in the face. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Azzi.” She mutters, defeated.

Azzi nods, wetting her lips. She would never ask Paige to choose her over her career, in any capacity. As teenagers, they’d conspired dreams about how they’d play together in college, spend every day together in practice and win championships before declaring for the draft and entering the league together. Azzi had finished college in 3 years just so they could stay in the same class.

But life hadn’t quite worked out that way. Yes, they’d both gotten to UCONN. They’d even gotten as close to a championship as the final four, more than once. But in three years, they’d only played 17 games together, injuries always getting in the way.

Now, almost a year after her second ACL tear, Azzi was close to coming back- this time, hopefully more permanently. But Paige was expected to declare after the end of her fifth year of playing at UCONN, her eligibility to stay in college gone, and nobody- including herself- was sure if the time was right for Azzi to declare, having missed so much play time throughout her collegiate career.

She knew the importance that getting to the league held to Paige. To both of them. She would never want to put herself before that. She did wish, though, that just for once, Paige would at least admit that the tensions that declaring brought with it were causing issues between them.

Really what she wishes is that she would hold her and apologize for the stress it caused, and promise that she would still be her priority, no matter where the draft took her. But Paige, ever so stubborn and never one to take blame if she didn’t have to, had yet to do so.

“You know what? Nevermind. I don’t know why I even brought it up.” Azzi grumbles, reaching for her sweatshirt that was slung over the back of Paige’s desk chair.

“Hey,” Paige says in protest, stepping toward her to grab her hand. “Paige, please.” Azzi sighs, glancing at their hands together before meeting the blonde’s eyes, glossy with tears. They share a pained look, but neither of them says anything. Paige drops her hand as Azzi reaches for her bedroom door. “I’ll see you at practice.” She says, closing the door behind her.

—

To make matters worse, when her alarm goes off the next morning, Azzi discovers that in her overly tired and emotional state after coming back from Paige’s, she’d set her alarm for 45 minutes after what she normally would to get ready for practice. She groans as she wakes up, rolling over to pick up her phone, turning off the alarm.

When she sees the time, she throws the blankets off, scrambling to her feet. She pulls her bonnet off and tosses it to her bedside table, grabbing a hair-tie left behind by Paige and pulling her curls back as fast as she can. Nearly falling over as she pulls on a pair of sweats and a hoodie she's pretty sure is her girlfriends', she rushes into the bathroom to quickly brush her teeth, splashing cold water on her face in a desperate effort to wake herself up, not bothering to look at her reflection in the mirror.

Of course this would happen to her the day of the first official practice back.

She grabs her practice set and court shoes and tosses them into her duffel along with another change of clothes, quickly grabbing a few hair care products and hygiene items to get ready with after practice before zipping it closed and slinking out the door. She gets down one out of three flights before realizing her keys aren’t in her hand. She groans in frustration, hanging her head in exasperation for a moment before turning around and running back up the flight of stairs she’d just come down, swiping her card to get back into her apartment to grab her keys.

Once she finds them, she rushes back down the stairs a second time, jogging across the walkway into the lot to her jeep as she checks her watch for the time. Shit. There was no way she was making it on time. She tosses her bag into the backseat before climbing into the drivers seat, and when she does, she’s instantly met with the realization that Paige was the last person to drive her car- she’d taken it for an oil change over the weekend because Azzi had studying she’d needed to do.

It’s evident in the way that her seat is slightly further back to account for Paige’s long legs, the smell of her cologne still barely in the air, and finally, when the engine turns over, the way that the speakers are turned to full volume once her phone resyncs to the audio system.

She flinches, partially at how bad she feels for picking a fight with Paige last night and partially at how loud the music comes through the speakers. She cranks the dial down after nearly jumping out of her skin, reversing out of her parking spot and out of the lot, probably a little bit faster than she should.

—

She pulls into the practice facility and manages a parking job she’s sure she’ll hear about in the team group chat later before speed walking inside, her bag hitting her knee awkwardly every other step. She swipes herself into the facility and immediately rushes to the team room and then to the changing rooms, throwing on her practice set and pulling out her shoes to walk to the courts. She tries to slink into the gym without being noticed, but the girls are already running drills across the court, so there’s nothing to distract CD from clocking her as soon as she rounds the corner.

Azzi offers an apologetic smile, and for a second she actually thinks that the pathetic look on her face might have spared her from a lecture when CD’s expression softens as she looks at her, but then she hears it. Geno’s loud voice booms across the gym- calling her out in front of the entire team and staff.

“Azzi Fudd! How nice of you to make an appearance.” He chides, hands wide as he makes a big gesture at her in disbelief, walking towards her. She nods, dropping her court shoes to the floor, slipping her slides off to change into them. “I know- I’m so sorry,” She acknowledges, not bothering to provide an excuse, because she knows by now how their coaching staff feels about them.

“Mmm. Just decided since you aren’t fully cleared you don’t need to be here?” He asks sharply, and even though she knows he doesn’t actually think that about her, and that he’s just annoyed and trying to prove a point, it still stings. “No, I-“

She stops herself, knowing she’s getting emotional and about to launch into a defensive explanation for no reason. It was a shitty feeling right now, but he’ll forget about it before the week’s out. “No excuse, Coach. It won’t happen again.”

Even though he’s barely taller than her, she feels small as he looks at her intently. “Better not. Get your mind right, kid.” She nods, kneeling down to tie her shoe. He turns away from her, spurring the girls on the court into switching to another drill.

CD takes his place next to her, leaning over slightly so she can hear her without her having to raise her voice. “Brush it off. Lynn’s waiting for you in the team room,” She says, patting Azzi on the back as she stands up.

She nods, smoothing a hand over her hair as she offers a small smile in response. Subconsciously, her eyes scan the group of girls on the court for Paige as she walks back out of the gym, although she hears her before her eyes actually find her.

“Box out, box out! You can’t leave him open like that!” She yells to the underclassmen as she runs under the basket to rebound a shot thrown up by one of the practice players, dribbling it back outside the key and retaking the possession. Azzi smiles to herself slightly at that, walking under the banner that hangs over the doors on her way out.

Paige’s gaze finds Azzi’s figure walking out as she resets, closing in on the three point line. She pump fakes the practice player thats guarding her and pivots hard to the left, losing him fully, before coming up for a wide open jumpshot three.

Azzi’s already turned the corner and walked out of the gym by the time the ball leaves her shooting hand, but her eyes still come back to the doorway to look for her. When she doesn’t find her there, her gaze snaps back to the hoop. The shot bounces off the shooting square of the backboard, rolling around the lip of the rim tantalizingly before tipping out of the basket. Miss.

—

Paige wrings her hair out with her towel, the material of the dri-fit shirt she’d pulled on sticking to her back with her movements. The chatter from the other girls that would usually fill the locker room is non-existent this morning, Paige having stayed significantly late after practice to get extra shots up and talk to Geno.

The stress of this season was already weighing on her, but she was determined to rise to the occasion and use this season, her last, to get the Huskies to championship number 12. She’d always had a chip on her shoulder, but this year, with all the media speculation and attention, she was committed to showing up and showing out- to do what she came here to do.

No matter what the cost was. It was something she needed to prove to herself.

She sighs, hanging up the towel into her locker, and drops her hygiene bag into the open drawer of her locker, nudging it shut with her hip.

She barely hears when Azzi enters the locker room from the team room, shower kit in hand to head to where Paige had just emerged from.

“Hey,” Azzi says, a quiet start to a conversation they both know is going to feel like ripping off a bandaid. Paige nods at her, lifting a hand under her shirt to apply deodorant. Azzi’s eyes briefly skim the exposed section of taut midriff that flashes before her shirt falls back to cover it again. “Hey. Didn’t know you were still here.”

“Yeah, um. Stayed back for some cupping.” She shifts her clothes and shower kit between her hands awkwardly, lingering in place solely to talk to the other girl, who’s nodding along as she combs through her drawer, evidently looking for something specific.

“Talked with Lynn a little bit about the conversations I’ve been having with Carl,” She says, a touch of hopefulness in her voice evident at the mention of her recovery timeline.

Paige offers a slight smile at that, running lotion over her hands and face. “That’s good,” She says, pulling a hoodie on over her t-shirt. “You wanna get breakfast after you shower, talk about last night?” She asks, finally turning to look at Azzi fully.

Azzi doesn’t miss the way her tone is just a little short, her expression tense, like she’s holding back from her. She hates when she gets like this after they fight- understands it, but hates it, nonetheless.

“I have class after this,” She reminds her gently- a byproduct of the fact that Azzi had chosen in person classes while Paige had adamantly tried to keep the both of their schedules as fully online as possible.

Paige purses her lips slightly and nods, reaching for her bag. “Right. Okay,” She says, putting her shoes in the top of her locker and tidying up her space. “Well, I guess lemme know when you have time to talk, then.”

“Paige, hey.” Paige looks up, pulling her backpack over her shoulder. “What’s up?” She asks, her voice almost impatient, like she's waiting for Azzi to finish her thought so she can leave.

“I-“ Her voice falters, not sure of what to say. After not interacting at all since their fight last night, Azzi wasn’t sure what to say.

She thought they’d both soften by the time they talked about it, and maybe they had- but an immediate rejection the second that Paige offered to talk definitely hadn’t helped. Now she was doing mental gymnastics trying to figure out a way to walk that back before Paige walked out of the room.

“I finish with classes at 4. Do you wanna meet at my apartment?” Paige frowns. “We were gonna go to the women’s soccer game tonight, we talked about it in practice.” She says flatly.

Azzi nods, pretending it didn’t sting that the season had literally barely started and she’d already been left out of team conversations due to being benched. “Okay. After that?”

Paige sighs, pulling her phone out of her pocket when it starts ringing. “Shit. It’s Brittany, I gotta take this.”

Azzi draws her bottom lip between her teeth and raises her eyebrows, nodding. “Okay.” She says as Paige walks past her and towards the door.

She turns to acknowledge Azzi as she passes at least, which softens the blow.

“Sorry for not telling you about the soccer thing, it was an impromptu idea that got brought up this morning. You’re obviously invited,” She says, before drawing her thumb across the screen and pulling her phone to her ear.

“Yeah. I’ll text you,” Azzi calls after her, and Paige throws a pointer finger up in acknowledgment as she walks out.

So much for talking about it.

—

She gets ready quickly after her shower, not liking how quiet the facility was when the whole team wasn’t there, filling it with buzzing energy and a love for the game.

She pulls her hair back and makes faces at herself in the mirror for a minute before heading to her locker and putting away the gear she kept at the facility, packing up the rest in her duffel.

She pulls her phone and keys out of her bag, looking at her phone for the first time since she’d gotten to the facility. Really, for the first time since she’d been awake, what with the way she’d woken up.

She unlocks her phone and navigates to messages, where she sees 5 unread messages from Paige. Furrowing her brows, she opens their pinned conversation.

Paige Madison 💗:

12:07am: Hey, I’m sorry about tonight. Can I come up?

12:22am: I love you, Az

1:12am: U still tryna ride w me to practice?

4:45am: Should I wait for you or nah?

5:20am: Yo, you good? Getting worried now.

Azzi sighs, running her free hand over her face, frustrated. No wonder she was short with her this morning.

She probably thought she had ignored her all night, and as soon as she’d asked her to go with her to get breakfast and talk this morning, Azzi had turned her down. If Azzi knew anything about Paige from the last 7 years, it was that she hated feeling rejected.

Feeling guilty, she types out a response.

9:11am: I’m so sorry, I just saw this. I went straight to sleep and then overslept this morning

9:11am: I’m okay. I’m sorry if I worried you

Then, after a beat:

9:13am: I love you too

—

Collegiate soccer games are 90 minutes, divided into two 45 minute halves. Azzi knows this because she googled it. Twice.

The soccer game had started at 5:30, and Azzi had too much homework to go, which she’d texted to the team chat. Ice had tried to drag her with her on her way out the door, but Azzi held her ground, knowing she needed to stay on top of her coursework as the season ramped up, or she’d regret it later.

The girls complained in the groupchat at her absence, which made her feel a little less bad, but Paige had largely not acknowledged her since their tense conversation in the locker room- aside from a response to the messages Azzi had sent when she finally looked at her phone this morning.

Paige Madison 💗

9:43am: All g. Lmk if you still wanna talk after the game

So she’d texted back after her class-

11:12am: Ofc. I just have some hw I’ll be working on but I’ll be at home after my class ends at 4

And although Paige had heart reacted to it, Azzi was still feeling a bit uneasy about the whole thing.

Now it was 8:24, and Azzi’s done the math- even accounting for timeouts, substitutions, and a break at half, and even if they went into overtime, it’s getting late.

There’s nothing in the chat about the game going long or traffic being bad or something coming up- so even though she tries to assure herself it’s nothing, she’s slowly becoming convinced that it’s definitely something.

—

When the group finally comes barreling through the door, Azzi’s moved to her bed to be more comfortable, giving up on trying to stay up. She isn’t sure what time it is, but she knows it’s late enough for her to be justified in being bothered.

She goes to check her phone. 1:41am, and still no texts from Paige. Nice.

The girls erupt in laughter in the living room, and she hears Paige’s voice amongst them. “Yo, yo. Shut up, f’real. You’re acting dumb as fu-“ Her words are cut off by very obviously running her shin into something- Azzi would assume the ottoman she left sticking out.

For a second, she almost feels bad. Almost.

“Ohhhh, fuck me.” Paige groans out loudly, and then there's what sounds like her jumping on one foot to hold her leg.

The other girls cackle at her obnoxiously, and Azzi huffs, resolving to get out of bed so all the girls make it to theirs safely. She switches on the light in her room, pulling her robe on, and the way she can hear the girls scatter at the sound makes her feel like she’s somebody’s mother.

She pulls her door open, and Ice is laying on the floor clutching at her stomach in laughter while she watches Paige nurse her leg leaning against the wall. She hears Morgan giggling somewhere on the couch, and the smell of liquor coming off of the trio does not impress her at all.

She stands with her hands on her hips just outside the living room, staring at Ice. Ice giggles anxiously when she sees her, scooting across the floor and away from her.

“Isuneh,” Azzi warns, walking toward her. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” She laughs out, clearly picking up on Azzi’s agitation, despite being inebriated to the extent that she is.

“We should have texted- the girls won, like totally kicked Boston’s ass, and they wanted to go to Ted’s with us, so…” She trails off, and Azzi sighs, turning to find the other two in the dimly lit room.

Morgan, to her credit, seems the least drunk out of the three of them, but she’s entirely too bubbly considering that it’s nearly midnight on a monday.

Azzi gestures towards Morgan, not acknowledging Paige yet. The tension it adds to the room is palpable. “Do you need help getting to bed?” Azzi asks, a gentle lilt in her voice despite being annoyed.

She wasn’t trying to ruin the freshman’s fun just because she was having a bad day. Morgan shakes her head, standing slightly unsteadily.

Azzi sighs, leaning down to grab Ice’s hands and pull her up and lean her against the couch. “Get some sleep,” She says to Morgan. “Pain meds are in the cabinet above the coffee maker, I’ll make sure there’s food in the morning.”

Morgan smiles nervously at her, her posture small. “Thanks, Az,” She whispers, and Azzi nods at her, offering a small smile back.

Ice slumps into Azzi’s shoulder, giggling again. Azzi hits her shoulder, only slightly playfully. “You should know better, Isuneh,”

She scolds, pushing her back against the couch again so she can swing an arm beneath hers and get her to her bedroom.

“It’s a frikin' Monday night.” She says incredulously, mostly to herself.

Ice laughs at that before groaning, reaching for her stomach. “No, no, no,” She rushes to get out. Azzi cranes her neck to look at her.

“What?” She asks, and Ice gags. Azzi winces, saying a silent prayer that nothing comes up, and that if it does, it somehow manages to avoid her.

Ice drops her weight back towards the couch and out of Azzi’s reach. “Don’t move me, just let me die here.” She says dramatically, and Azzi makes a face, staring at her for a moment, calculating.

She sighs, picking up her feet and putting her fully on the couch. She walks to the closet just outside the living room and pulls out a blanket, fanning it out over Ice so she can at least hopefully get comfortable and sleep this off.

She feels Paige’s gaze on her, but she makes no effort to acknowledge it. She walks to the kitchen and gets a glass of water, bringing it back to the drunken girl sprawled out on the couch. “Here,” She says, holding out the glass in one hand and two aspirin in the other.

“You’re gonna wanna get ahead of this before the morning,” She says when Ice stares at her blankly. “I don’t know if I can even swallow that,” Ice slurs, trying to sit up and missing when she tries to plant her arm, nearly dropping off the side of the couch and into Azzi’s leg.

She grimaces, leaning out of the contact, and resettles Ice onto the cushions. “Come on. Take this and I’ll let you sleep.” Ice sighs loudly, reaching for the pills and taking them from Azzi’s hand.

The glass, however, she simply presses her lips to, rather than taking it from Azzi’s hand.

“Oh my god,” Azzi mutters, tilting the glass slowly so the water flows into Ice’s mouth. She swallows loudly, opening her mouth wide after the fact to show off that the pills were gone.

Azzi chuckles to herself. “Very nice,” She credits, pulling the blanket over the taller girl once she settles back on the couch.

Ice sighs, bringing the blanket to her chin. “Thanks, crazy Azzi. Don’t have too much fun with Paigey-Waigey. I’ll be able to hear it from here.” She giggles, wagging her finger at Azzi suggestively. Azzi rolls her eyes, taking the glass back to the kitchen. As if.

She walks back through the living room and Paige is already looking at her, her hand still over her shin. Azzi sighs. “Are you okay?” She asks, gesturing loosely at her leg.

Paige nods, her eyes obviously tired, and moves to try and stand, using the wall for aid. Azzi comes slightly closer, so if she falls she’d be able to catch her, and watches her carefully. “‘M fine, Az. I’m not even that drunk.” She defends, and Azzi rolls her eyes yet again.

“Right.” She says. Paige clears her throat, awkward, using the opportunity of being braced against the wall to catch her breath. “Do you need the couch or can you make it downstairs?” Azzi asks, and Paige furrows her eyebrows.

“Oh. Uh,” She pauses, looking around. Azzi swallows. She’d obviously planned to stay with her tonight.

The assumption that she would stay with Azzi would be sweet if she hadn’t left her hanging for hours, not texted, and then shown up drunk at midnight on a weeknight- if she hadn’t said they could talk tonight, and then completely stood her up. But she did.

“Come on. You probably wouldn’t make it down those stairs in once piece anyway.” She grumbles, grabbing Paige’s arm and guiding her to her bedroom. Paige starts to protest, but quickly drops it.

The younger girl makes sure Paige gets to the bed, and then turns to close the bedroom door. She pulls her robe off and drapes it back over her desk chair, Paige’s eyes tracking her movements intently.

“You look good, mama,” Paige draws, and Azzi scoffs. “Absolutely not, Paige Madison.” She clears, walking towards the bed, deliberate in staying out of Paige’s reach.

Paige’s eyebrows draw up in surprise, and Azzi stares at her incredulously, her clueless reaction making frustration flash in her chest.

“What? Did you drink so much you forgot we were supposed to talk?” Azzi asks, unable to help herself, and as soon as she says it, she regrets it.

She knows better than that, she should have waited until tomorrow to do this. It’s only going to cost them both sleep, and Paige probably won’t even remember it in a few hours.

Paige breathes heavily, leaning forward so her forearms are braced against her quads as she leans over, feet square on the ground. “Fuck, Az. ‘M sorry,”

Azzi bites at the inside of her cheek, weighing whether or not to engage further. “Seriously, Paige? What, you just spaced it?” Paige winces when she raises her voice. “No, I-“ She stops, holding her head.

She looks up at Azzi, squinting, even just from the normal lighting in her room. “We went out for dinner and a couple of drinks. I meant to text you, honest. We got caught up and…” She trails off, and Azzi’s mouth goes dry.

“And what, Paige?” She asks. The blonde groans next to her. “I’on even know,” She complains, hanging her head, and in any other situation, Azzi would sympathize more and pull her under the blankets, play with her hair and let her fall asleep on her chest.

But right now, tears are brimming her eyes and she can’t even bring herself to touch her hand. “You couldn’t even muster the presence of mind to have somebody else text? Or, god forbid, you couldn’t have just made it a priority to get back to me so we could have this stupid conversation?”

Paige's eyebrows furrow, looking up at her. “Wh’d’you mean, stupid conversation? If it’s about us and it’s important, how is it stupid?”

Azzi purses her lips, beyond frustrated that she can pick a fight over minced words but won’t actually address the problem that’s been hanging over them for months. “You tell me, Paige. You’re the one who couldn’t make it a priority.”

“I’m sorry, Az. You gotta understand, dude, I got a lot going on, and I was already upset-" Azzi laughs at that, throwing her hands up.

“You were upset? Paige, you barely even talked to me today. And then you stood me up when we were finally supposed to actually talk.”

“Whoa, you started the “barely talking” thing. You didn’t even answer my texts til practice was over the next morning.” Paige says, scooting back in the bed to lean against the wall and get further from Azzi. “Yeah, because I fell asleep. I told you that.” Azzi argues.

“Okay, well I tried to talk with you earlier, and you were too busy.” Paige stabs back. “No, Paige, I wasn’t “too busy”. I had classes. Classes I am trying to stay on top of so that you and I can have time together outside of the season and actually enjoy the last year we have together before who fucking knows what happens!”

Paige laughs. “Dude, you think I don’t understand that? That’s why I tried to get as many online classes as possible. You’re making me out to be this villain who like, doesn’t wanna be around you or something, and that’s not fuckin’ true. I’m trying so hard to be on top of classes and be a good leader for the team and keep myself in a good position to get to the league-“ Azzi cuts her off cold.

“Exactly, Paige! It’s always about the league. Your priority is always the league. And I get that that’s your dream- it’s my dream too. But fuck, Paige. It’s gonna fucking happen either way. You’ve been projected as first pick for over a year. We could bomb all season long and it wouldn’t matter- you’re getting to the W. I wish you could admit that it’s such a fucking given and focus on literally anything else for one goddamn minute.”

Paige scoffs, standing up, her blue eyes wide in disbelief. "Yes, Azzi, the league is my priority." She stares at the other girl dubiously, like she's trying to figure out why the hell that's coming as a shock. "If you don't understand that, maybe we're not doing what I thought we were doing here," She rushes out, gesturing loosely between them.

Her words send Azzi's head spinning, so much that she barely hears the next words out of her mouth.

"Going pro is everything we ever talked about. Getting drafted is foundational to the fucking life we always planned on. You being injured and not knowing when you’re declaring is fucking complicated and it weighs on you, I know. I’m sorry if you feel like I don’t focus on that enough." Anger rises in Azzi's throat at that, but Paige is quick to resume her point, not giving her a chance to verbalize it.

"It's not that I don’t care- but that only adds to the importance of me getting my foot in the door to ensure we have a good fucking life set up.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Azzi mutters, looking at the blonde in disbelief. "What, you think because I’m too fucking fragile you need to get into the league so we can ensure a paycheck?"

Her eyes sting as tears begin to well, threatening to fall. "You think I’m that incapable? That weak?" She asks, looking up at Paige from where she sits on the bed, her voice breaking.

Paige sighs, working her jaw, resolve clearly fractured by Azzi’s reaction. “No, Azzi, that’s not what I-“

“You have that little faith in my future?” Azzi asks, drawing into herself as she leans against her headboard, her arms crossing over her chest. Tears run over and fall down her face now, bottom lip quivering in a way that makes Paige’s stomach churn.

Paige moves to get closer to her, her movements still a little bit sluggish, despite how much the argument had sobered her up. “No, baby, hey-“ She reaches for her hand, and Azzi quickly pulls away, shoving at her to put distance between them.

Paige is taken aback, sitting down on the foot of the bed. “Whoa, hey,” She says, trying to soothe the other girl, but Azzi is inconsolable. She hasn’t felt this betrayed, this misconstrued since she was a child. She had definitely not ever felt this way by Paige’s hand, and she didn’t think she ever would.

The self doubt and concern about coming back from this injury was something that weighed on her constantly- and she’d gotten good at hiding it, sure. Sometimes she was so good she even almost fooled herself.

But it was there. It lived deep in her chest, a voice that spoke to her every time she missed a shot in the gym she knew she should have made.

It kept her awake at night, even with Paige’s body pressed against hers, sound asleep. It was the reason she spent so much time wondering if she was even good enough to make it to the league at all- if she’d even deserved to come to UCONN, if she’d pulled her weight since being there.

Although the comment the other girl had made about their relationship maybe “not doing what she’d thought” had hurt, the mere thought of Paige questioning her abilities made her want to crawl into a hole and die.

“Azzi, that is not what I was trying to say,” Paige promises, leaning closer to try and get Azzi to focus on her rather than whatever thoughts she was quite evidently spinning in her head.

“Hey, look at me, Az,” Paige tries again, reaching to touch her face. Azzi flinches away from the contact, wiping at her face furiously. “Just go.” She says, sniffling as she leans away from the blonde.

Paige watches her with her mouth just barely open, unable to come up with a response. “Wh- don’t you think we need to talk about this?” She tries, but the other girls’ mind is made up, withdrawn from the conversation.

“I don’t wanna argue with you anymore, Paige. Just go, I’m serious.” She says, her voice small. Paige sighs, running her hands over her face.

She can’t just leave when Azzi looks so sad like this. "Come on, Az." She pleads. “That’s not what I meant, can we just-“

“Paige, I want to be left alone. Can we please just not?” Azzi croaks, pulling a pillow over her chest and furthering the barriers between the two girls. The blonde wets her lips, starting to reply and then stopping, not sure where to pivot from here.

“It’s not like it matters, anyway.” Azzi mutters, wiping at her nose. Paige’s expression drops, eyebrows knitting together as she looks at the other girl.

“Doesn’t matter? To who? What is that even supposed to mean?” She asks, hurt rising in her chest.

Azzi looks up at her, her eyes puffy from crying, her expression exhausted. “Come on, Paige. We’ve been arguing over this for months, we’re not going to magically stumble upon a solution tonight.” She says, her voice scratchy- and Paige can’t tell if its from being tired or from crying. “You’re not even sober.”

Paige stares at her, indignant at the suggestion that she wasn’t sober enough to defend her career and fight for their relationship. If Azzi was going to take dirty hits, she wasn’t going to let what she’d said go.

“Who does it not matter to, Azzi?” She repeats. Azzi narrows her eyes, scoffing at the blonde in disbelief. “I’m not doing this with you right now.” She states, getting off the bed and walking across the room to put distance between them.

Paige follows suit, getting to her feet and standing behind her, refusing to let her walk away. "I asked you a question.” She states, insistent, and Azzi turns around, adamant brown eyes meeting stubborn blue.

“No, Paige.” She says firmly. Her inflexible tone only ramps the blonde up further. “What do you mean, “no”? We’re having a conversation.”

“Not anymore, we’re not." She shuts her down simply. "Azzi." Paige prompts.

"You know I don’t like when you get like this.” Azzi says, staring daggers at her before pushing past to get around her. “Azzi.”

Paige turns her body with the movement and grabs for her wrist. Azzi pulls away hard, like her flesh is burning in the blonde’s grip. “No, Paige. I’m done. Go home.”

Frustrated tears fall silently down her pale cheeks, and she wipes at them with the back of her hand, only irritated further by their presence.

“You’re ‘done’?” She asks, incredulous, a scoff ripping its way up from the back of her throat. Loose strands of blonde hair that came undone from her bun throughout the drunken activities of the night frame the desperate look on her face.

Azzi crosses her arms, keeping distance between them. “I’m serious, Paige. Go.” She repeats, and Paige wants to scream. Her mind is moving too fast and too slow at the same time- she doesn’t know if she should storm out, raise her voice, or drop to her knees and beg Azzi to let her stay and try and make up.

As soon as that mental image crosses her mind, anger flashes in her chest at the fact she’d thought it in the first place. She hadn’t even done anything wrong aside from getting drunk when she shouldn't have. Why was she being crucified for trying to make a life for them?

Was she the only one who’d meant it all the times they’d talked about getting to the league, building a family, and living on the coast?

The anger in her chest bubbles over, and she can’t even see straight. “You know what, Azzi? Fine. Maybe its better off that way, anyway. We both could stand to lock in this year, without any distractions.” She spits.

Before Azzi can get her mouth to open, she's closing the door behind herself- and then she's gone.

Hey y’all! Here's a little something I've been working on. This is part 1 of multiple, idk how many yet. This chapter is really just to set up the rest of the story- the rest from here on out will be a lot more fun, I promise. This was not beta’d at all, so be warned! Any comments/shares/love is sooo appreciated. Thank you and I really hope you guys enjoy!

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi #uconn wbb #paige x azzi #az35 #uconn cwbb #uconnwbb #wbb

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thecheshirerat · 3 months ago

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On TAZ-

Wow that sounds like I’m about to summarize some sort of discourse but I promise I’m not. I guess I’ll say that I really like this show and I will keep listening even if my worst fears come to pass, so keep that in mind!

For reference, I started listening near the end of Amnesty.

I’ve noticed, with the past few arcs- really since Ethersea- the narratives have just… not been fulfilling their promises, so to speak. They’ve been placing a lot of guns that don’t go off. What I mean by that is, the characters are great. Excellent, really. Lady Godwin? HELL YES. Emerich Dreadway? Fuck yeah! And so on! And the settings and premises have been epic- the goofiness and also horrifying nature of Engrave, the mad and thrilling world of Steeplechase- these things are COOL AS FUCK.

and then the actual narratives keep flopping?

And honestly, I notice it most in the endings, because you can really tell when an ending doesn’t land. You feel the sense of disappointment. But with vs. Dracula, for example, I could kinda see leading up to it that the ending couldn’t really BE anything special, because they lowkey didn’t set themselves up for it.

They spent the campaign fucking around in Engrave, finding clues and solving problems and not really experiencing any particularly meaningful character arcs or growth or, idk, forming relationships? So there wasn’t much to pay off, I’m not gonna lie!

Of course it doesn’t feel quite as dissatisfying when you’re in the thick of it, because they’re funny and the stuff is cool and- oh hey! Lady Godwin’s been turned into a werehorse against her will?? that’s got some real potential for a LOT of allegories and exploration of some fun character development! And then it’s kinda played as a joke. And then they do that again and again.

And they actually said that that was a move they made intentionally, in the TTAZZ. I’m not quoting them perfectly here, this is from memory, but I do remember them mentioning that they wanted lighthearted comedy without the burden of real life story stuff. And I get that, honestly, but… it’s not the choice I would’ve made. I do think you can keep a lighthearted tone while also, idk, forming relationships and wholesomely engaging with some amount of emotion. And sometimes going way too deep is funny as a tone shift!

But I digress. One thing that’s also popped out to me is the almost complete lack of any kind of romantic storyline or even references. This becomes obvious if you’re in a fandom because everyone is always dying to ship SOMEONE, and you can tell when people are really getting desperate. I don’t blame them for not wanting to roleplay romance with their family, and I do think stories lacking romance are COOL and SHOULD BE ENCOURAGED!

However if you can’t find ANYBODY to ship together… that may mean you just don’t have character bonds. The growing popularity of the PC polycule is interesting to me; I wonder if it’s partially because

a) none of the pcs have significant relationships outside of their party and

b) even within the party, there doesn’t seem to be much chemistry between any given pair of characters…? I hope I’m making my point well here- the PCs all seem equally close and have more or less the same relationship to all of their compatriots with little distinction, meaning, essentially, no shipping fodder that doesn’t involve just all of ‘em.

Either way, it makes me wonder if I can blame the “Graduation has too many NPCs!” critique. They really stopped giving the parties tag-along main NPCs after graduation, with the exception of maybe.. Urchin? Kodira? Shlabethany? Poppy? and even they get relatively little “screen” time. Steeplechase has great NPCs, I love them to death, but none of the PCs seem to ever have one on one conversations with NPCs or each other that do not explicitly focus on the plot. And I think that’s part of why the characters feel so underdeveloped despite having spent a lot of time with them- because in this character-driven genre, we get very little insight into their feelings or motivations or even their rudimentary backstories.

I started watching Fantasy High recently and it made me realize a couple things about TAZ.

1) Recently, TAZ has sooo few core NPCs, and it’s weird that the characters aren’t doing more one-on-one purely character based scenes. And that makes it really tough to develop them.

2) TAZ is- and I should have realized this before- one of many good dnd podcasts. They’re probably looking for a niche they can master.

And it sounds like they’re trying to get back to that old “Here there be Gerblins!” energy. They’ve referenced it so many times in recent TTAZZes- they wanted to be job-focused, allowing story stuff to happen organically, so they tried a more open world vibe with Ethersea. They wanted to be less afraid to kill stuff, so they tried playing criminals (and were still afraid to kill stuff). They wanted to be silly and light on character, as they tackled with taz vs dracula. Now they’re trying to bring in the silly cartoon vibe with Abnimals. I think they’re trying to make that family-friendly, funny and goofy show their niche. Something other actual plays can’t be better at them at.

And honestly it kinda makes me sad, that they keep trying to go back to Balance while ignoring everything they learned during it. Because I loved Dust. Because I loved Amnesty. Because I loved Ethersea. I loved these past arcs! But they keep doing their brilliant characters dirty for some reason!!! And i don’t know why!!!!

You know that meme about people who ask questions in movies and then the person responds “Have you ever been to a movie before? You watch them and the information is revealed.” There have been so many times in TAZ recently where information has Not been revealed and if they keep doing it the audience will stop bothering to suspend their disbelief, because the trust just isn’t there.

What is Montrose’s deal? What on earth was Carmine Denton’s whole thing? Tell me more about Zoox’s feelings, about Devo’s past, about Amber’s future. Show me how Lady Godwin feels about the body horror that is her life- like, seriously! WHY DID WE HAVE TO COMPLETELY DISMISS THE OPPORTUNITY TO DISCUSS GENERATIONAL TRAUMA IN MUTT’S LIFE FOR A JOKE??

Do you remember in Steeplechase where the boys were getting medical attention or something- i don’t remember, but they were all in one room and only talking about The Plot. And Poppy literally banged on the door (speaking for both Justin and me, tbh) and was like “does anyone want to share any feeeeelings??” and they were like NOPE! and they moved on!!

like. cmon. you can’t just put a character like montrose out there and then leave them severely underdeveloped to the point that what would be interesting in proper context, with audience insight, becomes confusing and chaotic.

I just wish they would take their stories as seriously as we do.

It feels to me like they don’t believe in themselves, and it makes me sad. Maybe they didn’t get the response they wanted from Ethersea and so they’ve been trying to pivot, hoping to recapture whatever it was that earned them a loyal audience.

Again, I love them. They’re so funny and I’ll keep listening until the day they stop making this show, and when it happens I’ll cry.

But i KNOW they have more in them. Remember the “we’ll grow gills” monologue from Justin in the Prologues? Remember Travis’s SOLID acting with Devo? Or his awesome choice to give Lyndon/Beef a clearly delineated work/irl identity? His excellent narration and prose? Remember when Montrose described being lonely?! Remember all those moments where Shit Got Real and you cared??? The nanofather said some dope shit! dracula and victor and sweater dracula had such a wild dynamic! Clint’s acting in Dust 2- I can’t remember the characters name right now- was ASTOUNDING, I genuinely didn’t know he had that in him and it blew me away!

I’m not referencing Balance on purpose, both because the fandom is way to hung up on it and because I want to prove that you don’t even have to look at Balance, or even Post-Balance arcs, to see this kind of good cool stuff!

GAAAAAAAGHHHH!!! I want them to have fun. But also. We’re starving out here.

#that’s all for now #i need to go to bed..#taz #the adventure zone #taz steeplechase #taz vs dracula #taz ethersea #cheshi squeaks

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silantryoo · 9 months ago

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nakamura kazuha x le sserafim!reader (fluff)

WARNINGS ; scheming, possessiveness (non-toxic)

kazuha lived a hectic life, almost as hectic as her mind.

at age three, she decided to throw herself into a raging fire.

she had listened to one of her close friends (as close as children could get at that age, at least) rave about how fun their after-school activities were. how she felt like the spotlight was on her, and only her.

kazuha would never admit it, but she craved attention. she yearned to be seen and be recognized, to be watched and to amaze. her after-school activities (read: watching cartoons and drawing stick figures for her parents to interpret) left her with a restlessness, one that relayed onto her parents.

("kazuha! stop cutting holes into your blankets!")

nearly all her childhood memories consisted of school and ballet. it was a monotonous rinse and repeat. each day, she woke up with the dull sensation of aching and routine.

it was fun. it was exciting.

kazuha knew she was good. there was no doubt about it. she would get comments from other parents, praising her, and her mom and dad constantly walked around with their chins held high, knowing how well they're daughter performed.

she was a performer. an amazing one at that.

it didn't go unrecognized. as soon as she reached high school, she earned herself a hefty scholarship, attending one of the most rigorous ballet academies in the world.

kazuha had everything a ballerina could ever want to achieve, but somehow, a sudden emptiness started to consume her.

ballet was fun. kazuha knew what to do to get the spotlight. she knew how to catch the attention of the audience. it was a test, a rigorous evaluation of everything she knew in each class, in each recital.

it was a test, one which she had studied.

but nakamura kazuha wanted to perform.

she would've lied if she said she joined hybe purely out of ambition.

kazuha knew about kpop. she wasn't born in the last century. she, although not as diehard as her roommate, liked blackpink and bts. she knew their discography well enough to attend concerts, and her roommate usually blasted some random song from an idol group while washing the dishes.

(she refused to mention her secret twitter page that somehow shifted into a blackpink fan account.)

when she had gotten the email from hybe, kazuha was more than hesitant. she heard horror stories about the training, how foreigners were forced to speak a language they knew none of. kazuha was already accustomed to how rigorous ballet was, but she knew that the language barrier would be the final straw to making her break.

still, she couldn't do this forever. she couldn't die doing ballet, of feeling the dull ache of something missing.

"i don't know." kazuha sighed, gritting her teeth as she thought about that email again.

Dear Nakamura Kazuha...

("how did they find out my email address and my full name?!")

her roommate sighed. "i think you should."

"and leave everything behind?" kazuha shivered at the thought. change was fun as it was scary. "what if my parents say no?.

mina shook her head. "as if they would. they know how your brain works."

kazuha couldn't disagree with her. her parents were her number one supporters. if she decided to be a cashier at the nearest 7eleven, they would support her.

"besides," mina smirked. kazuha always became worried when her friend was smug. "i heard some of the izone members-"

l/n y/n.

"izone?"

kazuha hadn't known much about izone in all honesty.

all she knew was that miyawaki sakura, honda hitomi, and yabuki nako were in the group. she had heard their songs, and although she had always wanted to get into them, she never had the time.

but then there was you.

your minju-unnie said that it was okay that your family group disbanded. she said that it was an opportunity for growth and change, and despite her face full of tears, you tried your best to believe her.

packing your bags was the hardest thing you had to do. your roommates, wonyoung and yujin, were quiet and solemn. it was unlike the three of you. your unnies always heard shouting from your room, whether it was you and yujin arguing over the air conditioning, or wonyoung begging you to go shopping with her.

you were their maknaes.

now, you were no one's.

being a group of thirteen, someone was always left out, no matter how hard eunbi or sakura tried. sometimes, it was one of the two. other times, it was willingly hyewon, trying to avoid working.

sometimes, it was you.

everyone grouped up. yujin and wonyoung were going back to their company, starship. hitomi, sakura, and nako were getting ready to fly back to japan. yena and yuri talked to a bumbling and restless chaewon, crying into their arms. chaeyeon and hyewon were in the corner, worriedly watching eunbi as she scanned everyone's faces.

"y/n-ah."

you turned around, wiping the tears off your face.

"minju-unnie." you couldn't help but smile at the older girl.

minju was your rock.

she was a year older, and almost, if not more, confused than you about the whole idol thing. she was shy and insecure, always double-checking if things were done right.

but she was always there. minju always cared, even when she didn't have time to care.

she was the older sister you had always wanted (regardless of whatever chaewon and yena said during interviews and lives).

"give me a hug."

"okay."

you smiled, holding her tight. you could feel her tears dripping onto your shoulder, and her hand gripping your shirt.

minju was afraid, just like you were.

"i'm still your unnie after this, okay?" you didn't know if minju was trying to convince you or herself, but it didn't matter. "talk to me about anything."

you pulled back.

why did this feel like a goodbye? why did it feel like everyone knew this was a goodbye.

you didn't want them to leave. you didn't want them to forget you.

"unnie-"

"i'll be okay." minju could always read your mind somehow. "everything will be okay."

"okay." it'll be okay. everything will be okay. you'll still have your family members. "i trust you, unnie."

a week later, you, chaewon, minju, and sakura received an email.

everything will be okay.

being okay came in the form of nakamura kazuha.

you had seen her on that video call, talking in broken sentences with a cute accent. she read the paper in front of her, and you could visibly remember the light reflecting the hiragana pronunciation from the back.

a month later, she flew in.

nakamura kazuha was pretty.

a soft knock echoed through your room, the vinyl drowning it out after a few moments. the clock on your table read one am.

it could've been anyone of your group members at this point. maybe it was yunjin, dragging you out to go eat with one of her friends (despite it being past midnight). it could've been sakura, just wanting to sit next to you as she knitted. maybe it was eunchae too, claiming your room was colder despite her living in a different dorm complex. maybe it was chaewon...

you shook your head. chaewon wouldn't leave her room.

the door creaked open, puppy eyes staring back at you.

"hi."

kazuha.

you smiled. part of you was glad that minju never took the offer from hybe, otherwise she would pester you nonstop about your (extremely obvious) crush on the japanese ballerina.

you waved your hand, telling her to go inside. the younger girl beamed at you, a red tint dusting the apples of her cheeks.

"i got something!"

you raised an eyebrow, sitting up as you tried to peak at what she was holding.

"what is it?"

kazuha blinked, trying to calm herself down from bursting at the thought of spending time with you.

it didn't matter to her that you two had been friends for more than a year. being near you was enough to make her heart double in size.

"i, uh, i bought a lego set." she couldn't show that her confidence was wavering. "yunjin-unnie doesn't wanna do it with me."

you frowned.

you loved yunjin as much as the next person did, but you hated it when kazuha talked about her. the ballerina seemed to worship the ground that yunjin walked on.

the worst part was the fact you couldn't blame her. back in izone, there was a moment in time when you had done the same with one of your former members.

minju still teased you about your former crush.

the room went quiet, and kazuha could tell that you were caught in your head again. she always wondered if you thought about her when you were lost in your thoughts. maybe if she knew, she would find the courage to tell you her true feelings.

kazuha fiddled with the box, her voice suddenly a whisper.

"do you," kazuha blushed harder. "do you wanna do it with me?"

although you knew that kazuha most likely went to you after yunjin had said no, you couldn't help but agree. it didn't matter to you that you always seemed to be kazuha's second thought. all that mattered was that she thought of you.

you nodded, and the younger girl couldn't help but smile brightly.

("it'll be a good excuse for you to confess! maybe you'll even kiss her."

"unnie!")

you moved aside, letting kazuha sit across from you. she couldn't help but blush at the feeling of your covers. your room always seemed softer and brighter than hers, just like how you seemed prettier than everyone else.

kazuha sighed. maybe yunjin was right. maybe kazuha had fallen a bit too much in like and ended up in love.

she didn't mind though, not when you felt so familiar to the spotlight.

"these flowers are pretty." you looked closely at the orchids, humming as you traced the box with your finger.

mina had always mentioned how she was a sucker for pretty girls. she vividly remembers the two of them in their second-grade science class, kazuha tensing up whenever her teacher came near, or the time that one of her closest friends back in the academy complimented her physique, and she stiffened up so hard that she strained her neck.

when she first saw you during that video call, she was more calm than she expected. kazuha knew that she was gonna meet her celebrity crush, and the thought of you knowing she existed nearly made her brain short-circuit but she prepared. kazuha wasn't weak-willed.

and then she met you in real life.

somehow, she had forgotten how to speak at all.

("kazuha, right?"

"mmh!")

even after two years, she still struggled to form thoughts around you. it wasn't her fault that you were pretty.

kazuha cleared her throat, her face heating up as she realized how long she had stayed silent.

the two of you got to work quickly, the lull of the record playing. pieces of lego scattered your bedsheet, the two of you (mostly just you) struggling to figure out which piece went where.

"so..." you fiddled with a piece, one that you assumed to be the leaf. "you got these for yunjin-unnie?"

kazuha snapped out of her daze, too focused on completing the set in front of her. she always got too into these things.

"huh?"

"the flowers." you smiled, holding back an 'aw'. kazuha was too adorable for her own good. "you said yunjin-unnie didn't want to build them with you."

kazuha couldn't help but avoid your gaze.

she knew that you weren't exactly the best when it came to anything that required hand-eye coordination and focus. she also knew that she desperately wanted to spend time with you. you had been too busy meeting up with your former members and she had been missing you a bit too much.

she had seen the set while window-shopping.

they looked easy enough, one that wouldn't confuse you as much as the other ones, but hard enough to make sure it took more than one sitting.

it was a perfect excuse.

"oh, um," kazuha didn't know why it suddenly got so hot in your room. "no, i got them just because."

you glanced at her, watching as she toyed with the piece in her hand. you had no reason to doubt the younger girl, but you had to admit it was odd.

you couldn't complain, however. kazuha was here, and that's all you wanted.

the two of you continued, you looking over every so often. the scattered pieces seemed to never end, and despite the younger girl's dexterity, your lack of seemed to prolong the process more than it should've (just like she had hoped).

"this has a lot of parts." you muttered, feeling bad. "i think you picked the wrong person for this, zuha."

kazuha, like always, smiled at you as if she was smiling for the audience.

"i don't mind it taking long."

it was breathtaking.

"if you say so..."

you yawned, rubbing your eyes as you curled up against the futon.

you loved comebacks more than an idol should. it was fun to roam around, exploring the building of whatever showcase it was. being the only extrovert in le sserafim, you also made it your duty to help the others (and yourself) connect with whoever you seemed to cross paths with.

most days, you would already be outside, introducing sakura to whoever walked by.

not today. not when you were running on three hours of sleep.

"y/n-ah," sakura's voice echoed in your brain. "did you see my iron anywhere?"

"chaewon-unnie had it last." you yawned out.

sakura glared at her leader, watching as chaewon dug through her comically large bag. she needed to use it after the show. chaewon couldn't look like a mess in front of min anyone.

the leader stared you down, your peaceful body irritating her.

"snitch."

your mouth dropped open.

a couple years ago, back in izone, chaewon wouldn't dare insult you (although snitch was barely an insult). it didn't matter whether you barged into her room unannounced and left the door open, insulting you was off-limits.

as one of your unnie's once said, insulting you is equivalent to scolding a kitten who didn't know any better.

"i'm telling eunbi-unnie!" you whined, pouting.

chaewon laughed, pinching your cheek as if your threat meant nothing to her. you were basically her little sister after all. the worst thing that your 'mom' would do was scold her.

"like you told her about your crush on zuha?" chaewon snorted as she saw how red your cheeks had suddenly gotten. "how she's so pretty when she dances and how you wanna kiss her?"

you slapped her arm away, embarrassed. you should've known that eunbi had told chaewon (and probably the rest of the other girls) about your infatuation with the ballerina in your current group.

maybe that's why wonyoung gave you a thumbs up when she saw you and kazuha gathering drinks for the rest of your members.

"kkura-unnie!" you turned to the eldest, her figure hidden under a purple blanket. "chaewon-unnie being annoying again!"

you stared at the blob, waiting for it to utter a word. something that hopefully defended you from your child-like leader. sakura tended to take your side, anyway, except when-

you squinted, watching as the blanket shook up and down.

was she...

"stop laughing!" you groaned, throwing your head back.

you thought that somehow, especially since hong eunchae was in your group, chaewon and sakura would stop treating you like a maknae.

it seemed to be worse now, the two throwing jabs at your unrequited crush when the three of you were left alone.

"when are you gonna ask her out, y/n-ah?" sakura sat up, her voice drowning out the door opening. "you can't pine forever."

eunchae looked around, her eyes beaming with curiosity.

"ask who out?"

chaewon screamed as the youngest's voice echoed from behind, her eyes wide open as she jumped onto the couch. somehow, sakura followed with her, the sheer volume of the leader's voice frightening her.

"jesus, eunchae..." chaewon clutched her heart. "you scared me."

beside her, sakura's head hung low as she tried to catch her breath.

eunchae chose to ignore the two, glancing at you with shining wonder.

"who are you gonna ask out, unnie?"

she already knew who you were talking about. eunchae wasn't dumb. she saw the quiet glances and the bright smiles you and kazuha sent to each other. she knew that sakura saw it too.

but somehow, neither you nor your ballerina did.

you bit your tongue, debating whether or not to tell the younger girl in front of you.

you trusted eunchae. the young girl knew how to keep a secret unlike some people (yunjin and chaewon), but you also knew she had a tendency to meddle when the chance was given to her. it was why your junior, minji, and chaewon were so adamant about keeping her and her friend, haerin, away from each other.

you hummed, blurting out the second name that you could think of.

"minju-unnie."

"minju-sunbaenim?" eunchae shook her head. she didn't know you were this bad at lying. "as if chaewon-unnie would let that happen."

all eyes shifted to chaewon as her ears burned a firey red.

"yah!"

eunchae rolled her eyes, pouting as she ignored her leader's half-hearted scolding.

"so?" the youngest continued to press. "who is it?"

you shrugged, not knowing that the two of you were thinking about the same girl. "no one."

"but-"

the door opened, kazuha and yunjin entering the cramped room with a boxful of cheesecake.

chaewon frowned. she had told them to get real food. not dessert.

"what is that?" chaewon glared at the white reflecting the lights.

yunjin looked down, half confused and half serious. "it's a container...?"

with a deep breath, chaewon closed her eyes. she always wondered how eunbi managed to keep some sanity when choi yena, kang hyewon, and ahn yujin were all under her care.

part of her knew that if yunjin was added to that mix, eunbi would combust.

"but i ordered rice...?"

chaewon looked at the proud smile on her member's face. "it's made with flour, so it's close enough."

huh yunjin was gonna give her an aneurysm.

"have you told her yet?"

being ambushed while drying her hair wasn't exactly how kazuha wanted to spend her night.

in all honesty, she had mentally prepared herself to confess to you later today. from the moment her six alarms rang, she knew that she'd do it.

she didn't take into account how many people would stop by and say hi to you.

kazuha frowned. why did you know so many pretty people?

"no..."

yunjin frowned, pointing at her with the fork in her hand. "you said you'd do it today?"

kazuha loved the thrill of the spotlight. she loved showing the world that, not only was she talented, she was confident. she held herself with a poise that she knew many people could never compare to.

kazuha never crumbled under the presence of the spotlight.

why was it so different with you?

"told who what yet?"

kazuha spun around, her eyes wide. it had slipped her mind eunchae usually drank a caprisun around this time. something about her nightly routine...

(kazuha tried to pay attention, but eunchae talked fast, faster than she could translate in her head.)

"what?" yunjin laughed awkwardly, her mouth scrunching up. "told who what?"

leave it to yunjin to make things obvious.

"you're such a bad liar, unnie." eunchae rolled her eyes. "so, who is it zuha-unnie?"

kazuha swallowed air, her fingers nervously tapping on her side. if eunchae found out, there was no doubt that she'd tell you before kazuha herself could.

"no one."

the youngest sighed. everyone seemed to think she was five years old or something. they might as well have told her santa was real.

eunchae shook her head, plastering an unbothered smile on her face.

the maknae had decided a while ago to not get in between you and kazuha. she liked how the two of you acted like two stupid shoujo characters, dancing around their feelings. yes, it frustrated her, but at the very least, she found daily entertainment.

everyone had forced her hand.

"oh..." eunchae nodded. "you're just like y/n-unnie."

kazuha's head perked up almost instantly, like a dog when they smelt a treat nearby.

"what?" eunchae knew something about you? was it something she didn't know? "what about her?"

the youngest bit back a smirk.

"i heard that she was gonna ask someone out."

someone...

kazuha frowned.

someone?

did she know them? were they close to you? was it one of your former members? was that why you had been so busy visiting them instead of paying attention to her?

"who?" kazuha's mind couldn't stop racing as she named all the people you had visited in the past month.

eunchae chuckled, squeezing past her and grabbing a drink from the fridge. "i'm not telling!"

"what?" gears turned in kazuha's head, her frown deepening. "who?"

eunchae smiled. if she was right and kazuha thought like any lead in any of her favorite tv shows, planning a seed of anxiety would be enough for her to finally do something.

"she's probably teasing, zuha." yunjin's voice was laced with nervousness, never before seeing kazuha in such a state of panic.

"maybe..." the youngest sighed.

wow... she was a genius.

"so," the youngest stabbed her juice open, sipping as she acted innocently. "do you guys think minju-sunbaenim is pretty?"

the kitchen went silent.

"...what?"

yunjin's eyes widened. she never knew kazuha's voice could be so intimidating.

"minju-sunbaenim?"

minju? kim minju?

how was she supposed to compete against kim minju?

kazuha liked spending time with you.

she liked how easily she made you laugh, how your eyes seemed to brighten at every word she uttered. she took note of how your cheeks tinged red, and how you'd stare at her as if she was the focus of your attention.

your spotlight was on her.

she'd never tell you, but there was a reason why she had gotten so close to yunjin out of nowhere.

it was obvious how you liked jokes, stupid or not. you laughed at whatever was said, even if imaginary tomatoes were being hurled towards the other person.

huh yunjin always managed to make you laugh, and kazuha knew from the first day she met you that she wanted that as well. she wanted your eyes on her and only her.

("take it."

"a joke book, yunjin-unnie? i don't think..."

"it'll work. trust me.")

now, the spotlight was somewhere else. somewhere familiar... somewhere you were used to.

it was driving her insane.

kazuha looked up, watching as you struggled with the legos in your hand.

"do you like minju-sunbaenim?"

you paused, confusion suddenly appearing in your eyes.

"minju-unnie?"

kazuha, too filled with anxiousness and determination, thought nothing of it.

"do you like her?"

you blinked. kazuha had never been this blunt, nor this flat with you.

your searched your brain for an explanation, but none came to. "where'd this come from?"

kazuha frowned. that wasn't a no.

"eunchae said you did."

you laughed quietly, shaking your head as the girl in front of you sulked. gently, you put the last piece together, staring at the orchid head in your hand.

"don't listen to eunchae." you smiled, her eyes hardening as she took in your words. "she just heard i liked someone and-"

someone?

there was someone, just not kim minju.

kazuha nodded internally. she could compete with someone. in fact, she was sure she would win. as long as it wasn't another person like minju (god forbid it was hyewon), she'd be fine.

hell, she'd fight lee chaeyeon for you.

"who?"

"who?" you blushed under the dim light of your lamp, the thought of confessing to kazuha outright flustering you. "someone..."

the ballerina clenched her jaw. she didn't understand why you wouldn't tell her.

she was greedy. she had always been. kazuha needed to learn to share the spotlight, but she had always struggled with it. she needed to learn to accept that not everything came to her the way she wanted it to, no matter how hard she tried.

"i think we did it!" you smiled, clicking the last piece of the set together. "i'm so glad that's over with-"

she wasn't gonna share you.

kazuha crawled over, not caring that her knee had crushed the bottom of the pot that the two of you worked so hard on.

"kazuha!"

your eyes widened in horror as it shattered under her weight. it took you two hours of work, and so much patience that you felt like you had transcended time at certain points.

kazuha didn't care.

she craved the spotlight. she craved you.

her hand rested on the side of your neck, pulling you into a kiss she had so desperately dreamt of each night.

you barely registered what was going on, your brain hopping from grieve to confusion to flustered in less than a second. her mouth was on yours. kazuha was kissing you.

humming, your eyes screwed shut as you focused all your attention on her. you could taste the faint layer of chapstick on her lips, the one that you had always wondered what tasted like.

sweet. you smiled. like her perfume.

you pulled back awkwardly, watching as she semi-hovered over you, and struggled to maintain her position.

"focus on me instead." she ignored the sharp pieces digging themselves into her knee. "like me instead, unnie."

you looked into her dark irises, her breathing heavy as they searched yours. you couldn't believe how out of nowhere kazuha had been. you had known her long enough to know how she kept her thoughts to herself, rarely speaking out unless something had happened.

you paused.

oh.

"eunchae, you sneaky little..." you shook your head, deciding to scold the youngest another time. now, your focus was kazuha.

her eyes never wavered away from yours, almost as if she was silently pleading for confirmation.

with a smile, you chuckled. "you're the someone, kazuha."

kazuha's face went blank, shifting to her knees.

"huh?" her face heat up. she had never been more embarrassed in her life. "but eunchae said..."

you gave her a pointed look.

"exactly."

kazuha clenched her eyes as she sat back to the opposite of you. how did a fifteen-year-old manage to out-smart her.

i got played.

"so..." kazuha sat cross-legged, glancing sadly at the broken figure in front of her. "i broke our flowers for nothing?"

you couldn't help but let out a laugh, watching as the girl across from you reminisced about the state of the lego set a few minutes ago.

"it's okay." you hummed, picking up the pieces. "it just means more time together."

kazuha hummed happily, going back to work to fix the vase. the more time she spent with you, the better.

together...

that was another conversation for another day.

eunchae stared at the fake flowers on the living room table, smiling as her scheming had worked perfectly.

she was glad that you two were finally dating, even if that meant you and kazuha (poorly) snuck around the dorms.

it was also a plus that she got treats for not telling chaewon about anything (not like she was going to).

"do you know orchids mean love?" sakura said, glancing at her phone.

"love?" chaewon laughed. you were too young to know what love was. "y/nnie didn't even have her first kiss yet."

yunjin's eyes bulged out, not sure if she was hearing wrong. "she didn't tell you?"

"unnie."

"oops."

> main masterlist.

#nakamura kazuha x reader #kazuha nakamura x reader #le sserafim x reader #lesserafim x reader #kpop x reader #idol x reader #silantryo

625 notes · View notes

entitled-fangirl · 9 months ago

Text

The astronomy professor.

Severus Snape x Lupin!reader (past James Potter x reader)

Summary: it's Harry's third year, and the reader is beyond excited that her brother is becoming the boy's professor. When the two siblings goof off together before one of their classes, the reader realizes just how much she's grown attached to Snape.

Warnings: Death, grief, guilt, fighting, talks of threatening behavior, etc.

Author's note: I'm planning on working on the next piece of "His betrothed" soon! Also... maybe a Remus Lupin x reader???

Masterlist

....................................................................

Severus scowled at the other end of the professors table in the Great Hall, while next to him, Y/N smiled brightly.

They had both had quite different viewpoints of the newest DADA professor.

Remus Lupin.

Being a Lupin herself, she was beyond excited that her older brother was coming to teach.

And he was quite excited to be there as well.

The two were close during their time at Hogwarts. She was often seen flitting around the Marauders like a pesky gnat.

None of them ever thought of her as pesky though.

She was Remus' younger sister, and therefore, their own younger sister.

And throughout their time in school, she had developed a large crush on James Potter.

The only person who ever knew about it was Remus.

And while it absolutely killed her, she was happy when James and Lily started dating.

Then were engaged.

Then married.

Then had Harry.

That was just the kind of person Y/N was. Though it destroyed her, she couldn't help still feeling joyful for him.

Imagine her pain the day he died.

That's how she got to this point now.

So close to Severus Snape.

Because they both bonded together over one thing:

That James and Lily Potter could've had very different lives if they hadn't ended up with each other.

…

Remus approached Y/N after the dinner, grabbing her elbow gently from behind. She turned away from her conversation with Minerva to look at him, "Oh, Remus. What's wrong?"

He shakes his head, "Nothing. It's just… can I talk to you?"

Minerva intervenes, "Go on, you two. We'll finish this conversation later, Professor Lupin." She pauses, "Well, I guess now you're both Professor Lupin. Hmm."

She walks off.

Y/N turns around to him. "There's something wrong with you. Don't lie. We've been siblings for far too long to make you think you can lie to me."

He sighs and pulls her arm, dragging her out of the Great Hall.

Severus, with his ever watchful gaze, notices the urgency in which Remus drags her away.

He didn't miss the tall werewolf at all.

…

"He's just so tall, isn't he?" Remus asked joyfully.

She smiles, "Oh, yes. And Harry is so smart. That, or he's quite good at copying off of Ms. Granger. You'll figure it out when you get there."

"He looks just like James." Remus said with distant look in his eyes.

Y/N smiled at the thought, "Yes. But, he looks like Lily, too. Imagine if he had her red hair. He'd fit in with the Weasleys just fine!"

The two siblings laughed loudly in the middle of the deserted corridor.

It was if they were students again.

She looked back at him, "I really have missed you, Rem."

He sighed, "I'm sorry for my actions after… you know."

"Remus, I don't blame you for reacting to all of it the way you did-"

"-you really can, though. You should."

She stepped back, shaking her head, "No. I don't care what happened in the past."

"You're my sister and I pushed you away," he reminded her. "All because I was too weak."

She scoffed, "You're not weak. You've never been weak. Remus, don't-"

"-NO!" He pushed, "I pushed you away after he died because. every. single. time I looked at you after that, I saw him."

Her mouth opened slightly as she registered his words. She moved to speak, but couldn't trust her own voice.

He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Look. I'm sorry. That's nothing of your concern, and I don't know why I bothered you with it."

"You… you really saw him in me?" She asked.

"I still do."

"What's going on down here?" Severus's voice boomed down the hall as he approached the two.

Remus resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Y/N turned to look at him, "Just catching up. It's been far too long."

"And still not long enough," Severus said.

"Severus," she scolded.

Remus chuckled lightly, "Nice to see you, too, Snivelus."

"Remus," she scolded towards him now.

The two completely ignored her as they glared at each other.

She sighed, "Let's just pretend we all get along? Please."

Severus grumbled under her breath, but agreed.

Remus considered her question carefully, and finally nodded.

…

Now, Y/N sat on Severus's desk as he carefully brewed a potion on one of his standing desks.

"Are you happy to be here with your brother again?" He asked as small talk.

She nodded, "Yes. I missed his laugh most dreadfully."

He nodded, throwing another ingredient into the cauldron.

She grabbed a stack of papers on his desk, looking at each one carefully.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"These are second-year essays, yes?"

"Yes."

She nodded, moving now to sit at his desk. She grabbed his quill and ink. "I'll grade these for you while we talk."

He quickly moved towards the desk, "No. I will grade them another time. Don't do my work for me. You do enough."

She looked up at him with a puzzled brow, "Why? You're busy with your potion. I thought it only fair…"

He stepped back in thought, "It would be a nuisance to you. You won't enjoy the content."

She laughed, "No one enjoys reading or writing essays about anything magical. Everyone would rather just see or do it."

"But that's how they learn." He counter argued.

She shook her head, "No, that's how you teach."

He tilts his head, "And what do you do for Astronomy, darling?"

She smiles, "They draw what they see. The constellations. Then sometimes, I make them come up with new names for each one. When they get older, they get to write stories for them. Come up with their own backstory for how it got in the sky."

He nodded, "But each constellation has its own story already."

"They do. And I tell them those. If people in history can choose what to believe about them, why can't my students? And trust me when I say I haven't had a single student fail the exam for it in four years."

Severus stirred the potion as he listened, "I just don't see how it's helpful, is all."

She shrugs, "As long as they learn, who cares?"

He smiles just barely, "I'll never understand how your little mind works."

She missed the way he almost ruined the potion due to his interest in their conversation.

…

"So, what's in your lesson plans for today, Professor Lupin?" Y/N asked excitedly.

"Well," Remus said, "Today, I figured the third years would get to face a boggart."

She gasped, "You got your hands on a boggart?"

He nodded, "Hagrid helped me, of course."

"How much longer until your class?"

He looked down at his watch, "Hmm, 40 minutes, I'd say."

She smirked, "Still think our fears are what they always were?"

He tilted his head back and forth, "I'd say so. I mean, we're older but… we're still who we used to be. It's worth a try." He smirked.

She practically skipped with excitement toward the bureau in his classroom. "Merlin, you're already better than the last DADA professor, Rem."

He furrowed his brow, "How so?"

"Well," she recalled, "I heard from a Weasley that he opened the cage of 15 Cornish pixies into the second year class. Caused a major disruption. And then… his personality, of course."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know about others, but, he would not let me alone. He asked me out almost every other day. It was so tiring. But then, one day, he just… quit bothering me."

Remus pondered her words, "What would make him quit?"

She shook her head, "I don't really know, Rem."

He huffed, "Well, I gotta know now. Think, dear sister."

Y/N looked up in thought, "It was after Christmas break. But… before the Chamber was opened. It doesn't matter, honestly. I much rather be goofing off before your class starts. C'mon."

Remus smiles and stands in front of the bureau with his wand, "Alright."

She opens the door slowly.

The boggart immediately shifts into the full moon.

Y/N sighs at the sight.

He was still scared of who he was when the full moon appeared.

"I suppose nothing has changed," he stated.

She nods.

She walks in front of her brother to face the boggart next.

It takes its time to shift, making her rethink her decision to do this.

It shifted to something much different.

Severus Snape's dead body.

Her face dropped quickly at the sight and her eyes widened.

She knew it wasn't real. She knew it wasn't real.

Why does it look so fucking real?

Remus looks over her shoulder with a gasp.

And neither of them move for a minute.

Finally, her voice breaks through the silence, "Rem?"

He nods, "Yeah. Yeah. I… I got it."

Remus steps in front of her, waving his wand and whisking the creature back into the bureau.

The door shuts and locks, but the siblings remain just as quiet.

As if spooked, Y/N bolts out of the classroom door.

She runs as quickly as her legs can carry her, almost running into sleepy students multiple times.

She throws the door open.

The door to Severus's classroom.

He stands up from his desk slightly startled by her sudden intrusion.

Her entire body relaxes as she sees him.

"Is everything alright?" He asked suspiciously.

She shakes her head, looking down at her feet in embarrassment.

Severus nods, walking up to her slowly. "I have twenty minutes before class. Why don't you come sit?"

When she doesn't move at all, he reaches forward and gently grabs her bicep.

At the contact, she suddenly wraps her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly.

He grunted in surprise, but made no move to get away from her.

In fact, he even wrapped his own arms around her.

"What has got you so worked up?"

She sighs into his chest, "I don't know. Everything just… clicked today."

"It what?"

"It all makes sense."

He leaned back just barely to see her face, "Such as?"

"You told Lockhart to let me alone last year, didn't you?"

He stiffened, "I… may have."

"Thank you."

"Don't. It was nothing."

She nods, pulling away from him, "I'm sorry for all this. I just… had… a moment earlier and… needed to make sure you were alright."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

She shrugs, "It seems that the people I like don't have a great track record of… staying alive, is all."

He tilts his head, "People you 'like'?"

Y/N blushes, "Um. People I enjoy the company of. You know."

"And you enjoy my company?" He asked in a teasing way.

"How could I not?" She finally regains her thoughts, "I should go before your class starts. Granger will be here any minute."

He nods, "Perhaps you may come by later to assist me with grading?"

She smiles, "Only if you let them draw pictures at some point."

Severus sighs, "Alright."

She bits her bottom lip to hold in her laugh. "Alright then. It's a date."

She begins to walk out.

"And Darling?" He asked.

She turned in the doorway to look at him, "Yes?"

"I didn't tell Lockhart to let you alone. I threatened him quite severely."

She tilted her head, "How?"

He shrugged, "Does it matter?"

She shakes her head with a light blush on her cheeks.

Oh, Remus will eat this up.

..............................................................

507 notes · View notes

rahuratna · 5 months ago

Text

Thirst Trap

Genre: Fluff, humour, crack.

Characters: Nanami, Yuuji, Ino.

Summary: Ino and Yuuji unwittingly make Nanami IG-famous through a social media post. As the internet's thirst ramps up, Nanami remedies the situation by roping in the two young sorcerers once again.

CW: language.

"Now that's what I call ... "

"A good run!"

"Oh, hell yeah. You're not half bad, Itadori! Just stick close to me, and you'll learn plenty more!"

A warehouse stained with the remnants of dispatched cursed spirits, clothes rumpled and stained with the evidence of hard work and a new student brimming with the desire to prove himself. Now this was Ino's definition of a day well spent. The last, and most proudly worn feather in his cap was the fact that their successful team-up had been overseen by none other than Nanami Kento himself, the man who breathed inspiration into all of his endeavours as a sorcerer.

Speaking of which ...

"Hey, Nanami, what did you think of our work today?"

Striding along at a steady pace behind the two youngsters, the tall, ever-composed sorcerer looked up and adjusted his glasses.

"Hmm. You're both well-coordinated, considering that you've never been teamed up before. You've got good instinctual prediction of each other's movements and I'm quite certain that you may come up with even more effective techniques if you work together in the future."

Ino nudged Yuuji and mouthed the words "Here it comes."

"Having said that, Itadori, some points to consider."

The cheerful boy glanced back at Nanami and gulped.

"Err, yes, Nanamin?"

"Your instincts are important, but you can't always rely on them. Instincts are based on your physical senses and your ability to analyse cursed energy. It takes a great deal of focus to maintain a good hold on both these threads. If a curse user is able to fool your senses, then such instincts can be your downfall rather than your strength."

Yuuji mulled those words over, humming to himself. Ino clapped him on the back.

"You listen to Nanami and you won't go wr- "

"Funny you should say that, Ino. Because I'm pretty sure I taught you to practice caution at all times instead of throwing yourself head-first into a situation because your underclassman is watching you."

Ino winced and rubbed the back of his head, laughing sheepishly.

"Okay, okay. I admit it. Got a bit carried away 'cos Itadori was watching me. Won't happen again."

Nanami grunted in reply and the two younger sorcerers glanced at each other and grinned slightly. Yuuji's stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly in protest of its emptiness.

"Whoa, whoa. Can't have that. Hey, Nanami, what do you say we grab something to eat?"

"I suppose that would be acceptable. What do you propose?"

Ino turned excitedly to Yuuji.

"Since you're the newbie here, you get to choose! Only for today, though!"

"Seriously? Cool! I wanna eat ... hot pot on a day like this. That warehouse was kinda chilly."

Nanami nodded before consulting his phone.

"There's a good place not far from here. Let's go."

The place Nanami chose was somewhat off the beaten track. They left the main thoroughfare at some point, wandering through a maze of backstreets, food sizzling on outdoor grills, murky puddles and cosily lit bars. The restaurant they ended up at had no proper signage announcing the name of the establishment or any indication of their menu.

The food was, of course, incredible. Yuuji's eyes positively glowed with excitement as the steaming hot pot was laid out before them, the perfectly prepared ingredients on the side.

"Ooh, this is amazing! Nanamin, how'd you find this place?"

"I often come across good places to eat when I'm on missions in the area."

Ino shook his head fondly.

"Oi, Itadori, Nanami here is a massive foodie, you know that? You name any part of Tokyo and he'll tell you the best places to eat there. He even knows regional specialties in other areas that are pretty out there!"

Yuuji was now regarding his mentor with new reverence. Nanami coughed and re-directed their attention to the food.

"This is going to get cold. Shall we begin?"

"Oh! Hold on. Gotta record some of this."

Ino pulled out his phone, getting a few snaps and videos of the steaming hot pot from various angles. Now accustomed to his junior's need to record everything, Nanami sighed and began to add ingredients to the steaming soup base, softly reprimanding Yuuji who didn't want too many vegetables.

"It's winter and these are good for you. Make sure to eat the cabbage. It has roughage and the shungiku and carrots have a lot of vitamins. They also reduce inflammation of the muscles after a long day."

While the pot bubbled merrily, Nanami prepped their sauces in small porcelain dishes, mixing a little grated radish into the ponzu and adding some green onion to the sesame. He added ingredients to the main pot in a methodical sequence, placing the thicker parts of the vegetables first, followed by the assortment of mushrooms and the tofu.

Lastly, with Yuuji's mouth now practically watering, he handed over the thinly sliced beef for them to take, each dipping their portion for a few seconds until cooked, his deep murmur guiding them on correct timing. Ino had now set his phone aside and was just as hungry, digging in with relish.

When the meal was over, two stuffed and slightly drowsy youngsters followed Nanami out of the restaurant, the warmth of the food in their system buffering against the cold wind that caught at their clothes.

By the time Yuuji had been dropped back at Jujutsu Tech, he was ready to hit the bath and sleep for a solid ten hours. Loping towards the student dorms, he briefly checked his phone, shooting a quick text at Megumi.

Back from my mission. All good.

The reply came within seconds.

Did I ask?

I met Takuma!

Oh. He's cool.

Very cool. We had supper at a hot pot place.

With Nanami?

Yup. Apparently he's big on food.

I'm going to sleep now.

Check this out. Takuma sent it to me. He kinda forgot he was recording after a while.

Attachment: 1.

Shit, you're making me hungry dumbass.

Lol. Looks good, huh?

Yeah, whatever. Post it on your IG or something.

Humming thoughtfully, Yuuji entered his room and began gathering together some of his bath supplies. He paused at the foot of his bed, head bobbing to some unheard lyrics, fingers tapping against the phone screen that lit up his face in the darkened room.

After a few moments, he dropped the phone face down on his bed, exiting the room with a yawn, the basket of toiletries tucked under one arm. He promptly forgot about his casual IG post, right up until the next morning when he roused from sleep, eyes still slightly gummed together, fingers fumbling until they unlocked the screen so he could check the time ... and he shot upright in confused alarm, spying the flood of notifications that had come in overnight.

Now it has to be said, at this point, that being the easy-going, friendly type, Yuuji had made a lot of connections with others over time. Whether during his years at middle school, his sporting club days, or more recently, his time out and about in Tokyo on various missions, he'd managed to accrue a fair following on social media. While many of those who friended him and sent him the occasional inbox wouldn't be considered close to him by any means, his posts were often noticed and popular amongst them. Such was the nature of his personality.

And so, the video of Nanami with the hot pot, normally something that would fly under the radar if posted by anyone else, became an overnight sensation simply because it reached a much wider audience.

And what was the appeal of such a simple video, you may ask?

Imagine, if you will, a short video with simple tags, such as 'shabu shabu heaven', 'sooo good', 'too many veggies' and 'still so yummy, tho'.

Upon idly playing the clip (because it's a cold evening, and you might be craving some shabu shabu yourself) you're met with quite the sight.

First, a pair of hands come into view. Large, elegant digits, broad palms, perfect and neatly trimmed nails. The strong fingers handle the chopsticks with deft precision, stirring the steaming broth in the pot briefly.

Well now. Those hands would definitely be intriguing enough, but the effect is magnified as you witness the camera shift angle a little. The view pans up to the arms and body those hands are attached to, the subtle ripple of muscle in the broad shoulders that taper down to a slim waist, all wrapped in an expensive looking blue shirt, visible over the polished wood of the table. The man's face isn't visible, adding an element of mystery.

He begins adding vegetables to the pot, and now he really has your attention, because he has begun speaking.

And oh my. That voice.

The soft, smoky suggestion of reprimand as he softly lists the benefits of the food, the crisp enunciation of a man well-spoken, the low baritone that flows with marvellous richness across the riverbed of acoustic static from the bubbling of the pot.

You're captivated now, bringing your phone closer to your ear as you strain to hear more of those quiet, compelling, slightly authoritative tones. And then, the crowning moment of glory, the little gesture that takes this video from a solid nine to an eleven out of ten.

He rolls up his sleeves.

Setting down the chopsticks, those exquisite fingers unbutton the cuffs of his shirt with a practiced motion, rolling up the perfectly pressed fabric and folding it neatly just beneath the elbow on each side. The motion reveals perfectly sculpted forearms, the powerful flex of sinew beneath skin, veins tracing beneath the surface under the dusting of golden hair in the lamplight of the restaurant.

He continues his muted litany of instructions to whoever he is talking to, but at this point, the man could be reciting the Encyclopaedia Britannica entry on tortoises, on repeat, and you'd lap it up like the thirsty little tart you are ...

Ahem. Where was I?

Right. The video, which at that moment, was being watched by you (the imagined viewer) and Reiko from the sales department, and Haruka who you had lunch with just the other day, and Sara who loves to look up cooking videos on a Sunday afternoon, and Sukuna, who sometimes watched videos from inside Yuuji's mind with mild interest, and who momentarily thought "What a fine voice for a mortal worm", and ... you get the idea, don't you?

Ino received a panicked call from Yuuji that same morning. He'd been puttering about in his small apartment, popping some slices of bread into the toaster and frying up an egg for a quick breakfast, when the call had come through.

"Uh, Takuma-senpai? Hi, it's me, Itadori."

"Oh, hey! What's up? Did they team us up again? Sheesh. Didn't take 'em long."

"No, it's ... not a mission. It's about that video you sent me yesterday. The one from the restaurant."

"Hmm ... oh that one! Yeah?"

"See ... uhhh ... oh damn. How do I - So, look. I posted it on my IG."

"Oh, okay. And then?"

"So ... it kind of ... became popular?"

"People like hot pot that much?" Ino chuckled. "But I mean, what's the problem?"

"It's not the hot pot, Takuma-senpai! It's Nanamin!"

Having finally come to the crux of the issue, Yuuji's words were leaving him in a veritable torrent.

"They all saw him in the video and I didn't know! How was I to know? I didn't think they'd... and now there're all these ladies and girls and stuff and they're all ... it's a mess! And I don't know what to do and he's gonna kill me and - "

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, man. I can't make sense of what you're saying. One thing at a time."

"They think he's hot! They're all talking about Hot Pot Honey Muffin! That's what they're calling him!"

Ino promptly spat out his coffee in a fine brown mist.

"Hot Pot Honey what now?"

"Honey Muffin! I can't - Dude. Please, you've got to help me. If Nanamin finds out - "

"Okay. Okay. This is fine. This is ... Listen. Let me go check the video and the comments and we'll handle this. It can't be that bad. And even if that's the case, Nanami wouldn't be bothered by it. His face is not even in the video. Nobody can recognise him. He doesn't even go out that much."

"Oh God, I'm just ... okay. Go check it out. I'll send you a link to the post. Let me know."

After Yuuji had rung off, Ino took a breath and shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. It was just a harmless little video! He'd posted some of these before himself, and there'd never been an issue. So how bad could it be?

It was bad.

The comment section was ... interesting to say the least.

Who is that man? Anyone?

I'd let him stir my pot. Just saying.

That voice. Hnmnnghhh. Smack me on the wrist and call me nawty.

Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry -

Sir. One chance. Please sir.

Awjejdbavzbzbahsb pls ur bunny hash been a bad bad gurl

Unf, bouta make that ahegoa face rite now

And, rising above the cloud of steaming, churning, thirsty commentary, that rare peak of social media strata, the dreaded moniker that had found its place from the comment of one of the many new fans that Nanami had found for himself, Hot Pot Honey Muffin.

Ino, in spite of the chill that went up his spine and the momentary panic, knew what had to be done immediately. They had to show Nanami. Keeping something like this a secret would only make things worse with time.

True, Nanami wasn't the kind of man who drew attention to himself, but with the video now as popular as it was, it was entirely possible that someone in a shop, restaurant or one of his other frequent haunts in the local area might just recognise him. He would have to be warned, and even though Yuuji had long since taken the video down, it had been re-posted and there needed to be some kind of technical damage control.

Wracking his brain, Ino hit upon a great idea. Ijichi was known to have connections who could scour the internet for traces of curse activity that might be caught on camera and erase such evidence. Surely something similar could be done about this? If he phrased his request as something urgent, something that could affect Nanami's ability to do his job, then surely they'd take it into account?

With this new burst of inspiration, Ino threw on his jacket and headed out the door to Jujutsu Tech.

"And so ... yeah. That's ... how the matter stands. We're worried about someone recognising you because of how popular this became."

This was worse than he thought. Admitting to a mistake was always difficult when it was Nanami who was hearing you out. Standing in front of him in the staff lounge like two contrite five-year-olds caught with their hands in the cookie jar, Ino battled the instinct to hide behind Yuuji.

He was the older one here, and the one who had recorded the video in the first place. He had to bear the full responsibility for what had happened and be man enough to tell Nanami. How else would he earn his (eventual) respect and admiration?

The sorcerer seated before them heard them out in terrifyingly passive silence before sighing and removing his shades, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Just when I think nothing can surprise me any more ... "

"I'm so sorry, Nanamin!" Yuuji blurted out. "I ... I didn't know ... I mean ... "

"Well, what's done is done. May I see this video, if you please?"

Ino nudged Yuuji who stepped forward and handed his phone over reluctantly. Their discomfort grew as Nanami watched, a slightly puzzled expression on his face. The video ended and he looked up at them, frowning.

"All right. I can see why you didn't think anything of posting this, Itadori. The video itself is ... ordinary enough. It's simply showing a portion of me and the hot pot. So, why the attention?"

"Uhh ... "

The younger sorcerers glanced at each other. Ino cleared his throat.

"Well ... see, the thing is ... in the video, you kinda come across as ... I dunno ... kinda hot? At least, that's what the viewers seem to think."

"Me?"

Nanami looked incredulous and Yuuji gestured meekly to the phone.

"Just ... read the comments, Nanamin. I took the video down, but people re-posted it, so ... You'll see."

And Nanami began to read. Ino winced as he remembered the top comment, the one that would probably be first on the long list.

Roses are red, violets are blue, Your voice gets me wet Just like shabu shabu

Nanami's eyebrows were rising as steadily as the steam that emanated from the tea pot at his elbow, long forgotten. He eventually handed the phone back to Yuuji, clearing his throat.

"Well."

"Yeah."

"So ... "

"Hmmm."

"Right?"

"Yes."

Yuuji waved his hands desperately.

"But ... we're gonna handle this, right Takuma-senpai?"

"Oh yeah, definitely. I was thinking, you see. Ijichi might be able to use his network to find and remove the content from all media platforms. He's been able to do it before. I can make a request."

Nanami folded his arms and thought for a moment.

"I see. Yes, that would be possible. However, I'm against the idea of using Jujutsu Tech resources and manpower for a request such as this. That same time and processing power could be poured into much more vital concerns. Who knows how many lives could be placed at stake while we use the tools we have for something like this? No. I think another solution must be found."

Ino's shoulders sank under the weight of the knowledge that Nanami was right, as usual. But that left few avenues for removing the video. How else would they prevent this from blowing up further?

"I get it. What you're saying makes sense. What are we gonna do, though?"

"Ah. About that." Nanami lifted a prim finger. "I have an idea."

Yuuji stared at him, dumbfounded.

"You do?"

"Yes. But we will require some help. And some ... expertise on putting together a video."

It was then that Ino felt an even greater chill settle into his very bones as he witnessed something truly rare and unprecedented, something that did not bode well for him and Yuuji at all.

Nanami smiled.

It was Nobara's skill with outfits and make-up, and Inumaki's talent for setting up a scene, that had led to their current predicament. Yuuji's hair had been dyed black, his eyebrows darkened. Nobara's contouring prowess had rendered his face rounder and younger-looking, eyes magnified behind very large, thick lenses. He wore a red t-shirt with a skimpily dressed anime girl printed on it and an oversized purple jacket that disguised his lean, athletic form.

Ino had also undergone a drastic transformation. His dark hair had been shaved at the sides, the top styled into extreme spikes, tinted acid green at the ends. He had been provided with a fake eyebrow piercing and an artfully applied temporary tattoo that curved up the side of his neck, appallingly visible by the standards of society.

They sat at one of the countertops in the student dorms, the background serving as an adequate stand-in for a kitchen in someone's home. Nanami was standing opposite them, wearing his usual blue shirt and tan trousers, his sleeves remaining unfolded this time around.

Inumaki gave one final check to the camera before giving them a thumbs up.

"Salmon roe."

And the recording began.

On the counter, various dishes had been set up, all prepared in advance. They looked delicious, but you wouldn't think so, judging from the expressions of the two young men seated in plain view.

Ino grunted irritably, giving the camera a thousand-yard stare that looked very incongruous on his normally cheery face.

"Do we have to do this shit?"

Yuuji stared gormlessly into space, before laughing obnoxiously and picking his nose.

"Yeah, cos Dad said if we did we could go to that one restaurant where the waitress looked like Hatsune Kiku."

Ino's scowl deepened.

"Tch. Typical. Shit for brains here is on about that dumbass idol again."

"Now, now, boys." Nanami's voice came from across the counter, deep, polished, and a huge contrast to the two choice morsels of hellspawn sitting opposite him.

"Eat your dinner. If you're both good, we'll go to that show next week."

Yuuji's face brightened immediately.

"You mean the one where they dress up in bikinis and wrestle in the mud?"

"No, not that one."

Ino smirked.

"Ha. In your face, rat-breath."

"Be nice to your brother."

"Whatever. What are you feeding us now, old man?"

"I made katsudon. And some vegetables on the side."

"But I wanna eat omurice," Yuuji whined, thumping his fists on the table.

Nanami chuckled. "Ah, you remind me so much of myself at your age, son."

Ino rolled his eyes before tugging a steaming bowl towards himself.

"Seriously? You were this much of a loser?"

"I meant that I liked omurice too."

"Daaaaddd, please can we have omurice."

"Eat what's in front of you. Come on."

Ino stuck his chopsticks into the bowl, churning the beautifully prepared meal into an unappetizing mush.

"Huh. It tastes okay. Now give me a nice hot barbecue and I'd be really stuck in, ya know?"

"Oh, Hatsune Kiku likes barbecue, but she says, in her interview with Doki Doki magazine, Issue five hundred and three, that she can't eat too much of it, 'cos it gives her gas and - "

"Can you shut the hell up about that green haired freak for like, two seconds?"

"Kiku is not a freak!"

"Are you two eating?"

This earned a blessed silence for a few seconds, while the two 'sons' masticated in a manner that was singularly unappealing. When they were done, Nanami produced two bowls of caramel pudding and slid them across the counter, allowing his hands and arms in their blue sleeves to be briefly caught on camera.

"Well, here's dessert."

"Oohhh, pudding." Yuuji grabbed the bowl and moved it around slightly, watching the pudding jiggle. "Hehehehe. It bounces just like Kiku's - "

"Oh, for fuck's sake, you creepy - "

"Language, boys."

"Urgh. I hope I'm getting paid for this. Hanging out with this loser is taking years off my life."

"He's your brother. You two have to look after each other when I'm gone."

"Like fuck I will. He's gonna become a NEET however you see it."

"Then it's up to you to set a good example for him."

"Ha. Me? The second you're in the ground, I'm gonna take the money and buy myself that sweet, sweet little Kawasaki Ninja, then I'm gonna hit the road."

"You'll see things differently with time. Look at me. I was the splitting image of you back then. I settled down nicely."

"Ugh, whatever. I ain't gonna settle down. Now where's my cash?"

"Finish your pudding first, son."

The video, released from a burner account set up by Inumaki, spread as quickly as the first one had. In the days that followed, gossip spread in social media circles about 'Hot Pot Honey Muffin' and his two god-awful sons. The rhetoric around him changed drastically. It turned out that having children, like the boys played so charmingly by Ino and Yuuji, was a huge turn-off to most people.

The two young sorcerers certainly served their time when it came to punishment. It took ages for the tint to grow out of Yuuji's hair and he cringed every time he saw Hatsune Kiku on TV. Ino developed a very strong aversion to bikes for a while and found it hard to stomach pudding. They both decided to deactivate their IG accounts for a while.

Nanami read some of the new video's comments shown to him by Inumaki with some satisfaction.

Can you believe those are his kids?

How the heck is he raising them?

And the younger one. EWWWWWWW.

The older one looks like he microwaves pigeons for fun.

Roses are dead, Violets are a lie, I saw your children, And my pussy is dry.

Nanami adjusted his shades before looking up at Inumaki and nodding gravely.

Success.

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