#maybe I will regret this in the morning but now
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Why Do I Give You the Worst of Me (1)
summary: love and bad decisions collide as you struggle to balance a tour and a relationship thatâs spiraling out of control
warnings: 18+ adult themes throughout
a/n: another series iâm hoping i donât regret committing myself to⌠not sure how many parts itâll be, i donât plan anything
word count: 3.1k
-
You wake up face-first on a sofa that smells like cigarettes, spilled beer, and faintly, vomit. Not yours, you think. The synthetic fabric is scratchy against your cheek, and when you open your eyes, it takes a moment to realise itâs morningâsunlight cutting through the cracked blinds, striping the floor with dusty light. The sofa is mustard yellow, ugly in a deliberate, trying-too-hard-to-be-retro way. It doesnât belong to you. Nothing in this flat belongs to you.
Thereâs a girl in the kitchen, humming softly to herself as she pours cereal into a bowl. You donât know her name, but you know she wears Chanel No. 5 because itâs all you could smell last night when she leaned too close, whispering something you didnât quite catch. Her hairâs a mess nowâlike spun gold caught in a tangle of barbed wireâbut her makeup is still pristine. Sheâs the kind who sets her eyeliner with setting spray before going out, even if itâs just to the pub. You admire the commitment, if not the execution.
Your head throbsâa deep, insistent ache behind your eyes that reminds you of last night in bits and pieces: the gig (decent, though the sound guy fucked up your monitor levels), the afterparty (loud, sweaty, a haze of bodies and smoke), the lines of coke on a chipped coffee table, the bartender who kept giving you free shots because he recognised you from that NME interview last month. At some point, someone tried to fight you, though youâre not sure why. You vaguely remember smashing a bottle of tequila against a wall and laughing as glass shards rained down like confetti.
You roll onto your back and stare at the ceiling, which is peeling in a way that suggests years of neglect, a building held together more by stubbornness than actual structural integrity. Thereâs a stain in the corner that looks suspiciously like mould, but you donât care enough to investigate. The flat isnât yours, after all. You were invited here by someone whose name escapes you nowâa bassist from another band, or maybe it was their girlfriend? Theyâre gone this morning, anyway, leaving behind only the detritus of a night well-lived: empty bottles, crushed cigarette packets, a single black stiletto abandoned near the door like a fairy-tale gone wrong.
You light a cigarette, despite the pounding in your head and the fact that youâre pretty sure itâs technically illegal to smoke indoors here. The girl in the kitchen glances at you but doesnât say anything. Youâre not sure if sheâs annoyed or indifferent; you donât care. The smoke curls lazily toward the ceiling, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy the quiet. Mornings like this are rareâwhere everything is still and soft, where the chaos of your life is temporarily held at bay by the thin walls of someone elseâs flat.
Your bass is propped up against the armchair, scratched and battered in a way that tells a story if you care to look closely enough. Itâs a Fender Precision, black with a white pickguard, the same model Sid Vicious used to playânot that youâd ever admit thatâs why you bought it. The neck has a gouge near the third fret from when you threw it at a sound tech who deserved it (and missed). The strap is leather, worn smooth where it rests on your shoulder, and the bridge still has flecks of blood from the time you played so hard your fingers split open mid-song. You keep meaning to clean it, but you never do.
You check your phone, which is cracked and sticky with something you donât want to identify. No new messages, except for a text from your drummer that reads: âu alive?â You donât bother replying.
-
Youâve been in the band for five years now, though it feels longer. It started as a jokeâa group of friends fucking around in someoneâs garage, trying to see who could play the loudest, the fastest, the most obnoxious. Somewhere along the way, it became serious. There was a DIY EP, recorded in one manic weekend on borrowed gear, and a string of gigs in dingy pubs where the audiences were more interested in drinking than listening. Then came the breakâa slot supporting a bigger band, one of those industry darlings whoâd already started to hate themselves for selling out. The kind of band that wears matching outfits ironically, even though everyone knows itâs not ironic at all.
Now, you play sold-out shows to crowds who scream your lyrics back at you, though most of them probably couldnât name your second album. Your face has been on the cover of Kerrang! twice, though you didnât bother reading the articles. You hate interviews, but you do them anyway because your manager insists. Youâre better at the photoshootsâsmirking at the camera in a way that suggests you donât care (you do).
The band is your life, though you wouldnât call it that. Calling it your life makes it sound like you have some sort of plan, and you donât. Youâre just here, playing gigs and writing songs and doing whatever it takes to keep the wheels from falling off.
Your bandmates are a mixed bag of personalities, each one a walking caricature in their own way. Thereâs Matt, the drummer, who swears heâs been abducted by aliens and wonât shut up about it. Alex, the lead guitarist, is constantly high and insists on bringing his cat on tour, which you find deeply annoying. And then thereâs Holly, the singer, who somehow manages to be both the most chaotic and the most responsible member of the group. Sheâs the one who organises rehearsals, books the studio time, and keeps you all from self-destructing entirely. You love her for it, even if youâd never say it out loud.
The girl in the kitchen finishes her cereal, rinses the bowl, and leaves without saying goodbye. You watch her go, not because you care but because thereâs nothing else to do. When the door slams shut, the flat feels even smaller, like the walls are pressing in on you. You stub out your cigarette, grab your bass, and leave too.
-
Outside, London is already alive, though you wouldnât call it awake. The streets are sticky from last nightâspilled pints and kebab wrappers crushed into the pavement, cigarette butts floating in puddles of something that smells suspiciously like piss. The air has that distinct urban flavour: exhaust fumes mingling with fryer grease and the faint tang of wet concrete. You pull your leather jacket tighter around you, not because itâs cold (it is), but because it completes the look.
The jacket is vintageâor at least you tell people it is. In reality, you bought it at a high-street shop three years ago, and itâs held up surprisingly well, considering the abuse itâs endured. The lining is torn, the cuffs are frayed, and thereâs a mysterious stain on the back you canât quite place. But itâs yours, and it feels like armour. The boots, on the other hand, are real vintage: a pair of Dr Martens from the â90s you found in a thrift shop in Brighton. Theyâre scuffed to hell, and the left one squeaks when you walk, but you refuse to replace them because theyâre authentic.
You head toward the Tube station, your bass slung over one shoulder like a soldier carrying a rifle. People stare, but only briefly. In London, no one has the energy to care for long. The morning commuters are a mix of suits and students, their faces blank, their eyes glazed over as they clutch takeaway coffees in one hand and their phones in the other. You feel out of place but also weirdly superior, like youâve cracked some code they havenât even realised exists yet.
You hop on the Northern line, ignoring the signs that politely request passengers to ârefrain from eating or drinking.â Youâre not eating or drinking, but you do pull out a cigarette, which is arguably worse. Itâs a roll-up, so you convince yourself it doesnât count. An old woman glares at you, clutching her handbag like she thinks youâre about to mug her. You offer her a crooked smile, which she does not return, and you put the cigarette back in your pocket because she reminds you of your nan.
The train screeches into motion, and you pull out your phone. The lock screen is a photo of your bass, which says a lot about you. There are a few notificationsâmostly spam emails and an unread message from Holly: Rehearsal at 2. Donât be late, dickhead.
You glance at the time. 11:47 a.m. Plenty of time.
-
The rehearsal space is in Camden, a dingy basement that smells of mildew and unwashed socks. The walls are lined with egg cartons painted black in a half-hearted attempt at soundproofing, and the floor is sticky for reasons youâd rather not think about. The room has seen better daysâprobably in the â80s, when it was still a nightclub and not a haven for struggling musicians. Thereâs a single fluorescent bulb overhead that flickers ominously, and a space heater in the corner thatâs never worked.
Holly is already there when you arrive, tuning her guitar with the precision of someone who takes this far more seriously than you do. Sheâs wearing a denim jacket covered in patches for bands youâve never heard of, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail. She looks up as you walk in, her expression equal parts exasperation and relief.
âChrist, you smell like an ashtray,â she says, wrinkling her nose.
âItâs called branding,â you reply, dropping your bass onto the floor with a thud.
Matt and Alex show up ten minutes later, looking even worse than you do. Matt has the kind of face that always looks slightly hungover, even when heâs not, and Alex is wearing the same shirt he wore yesterday, now with an impressive new stain across the front.
The rehearsal starts late, as it always does, and quickly descends into chaos. Matt insists on playing a drum solo during every song, despite the fact that no one asked for it. Alex keeps stopping mid-riff to check his phone, claiming heâs âwaiting for an important call,â though everyone knows itâs just his dealer. Holly shouts at both of them until her voice cracks, then turns her frustration on you for being âcompletely fucking useless.â You take it in stride, plucking random notes on your bass and pretending to care.
-
At some point, Holly storms out, leaving the three of you to your own devices. Matt immediately pulls out a joint, which Alex lights with a lighter shaped like a naked woman. You lean back against the wall, your bass resting against your thigh, and watch as they argue over which fast-food place to hit up after rehearsal.
âMcDonaldâs is closer,â Alex says, taking a drag.
âBut KFCâs got the gravy,â Matt counters, waving his arms for emphasis.
âItâs not even real gravy,â Alex snaps.
âNone of itâs real,â you interject, flicking ash onto the floor. âWeâre all just cogs in the capitalist machine.â
They stare at you for a moment, then go back to arguing.
-
By the time rehearsal ends, itâs dark outside. You pack up your gear, ignoring Hollyâs death glare as she reminds you for the millionth time that you need to take this more seriously. You nod, mumble something about âartistic integrity,â and leave before she can yell at you again.
Back on the street, the air is crisp, the kind of cold that bites at your skin and makes you wish youâd brought a scarf. You light another cigarette, even though youâve already smoked half a pack today, and head toward the pub.
The pub is your sanctuary, a place where time slows down and the only thing that matters is the next round. Itâs a dive, the kind of place where the carpet sticks to your shoes and the jukebox is permanently stuck on a rotation of The Clash and The Smiths. You know the bartender by name, though youâre not sure if he knows yours.
You order a pint and settle into a corner booth, your bass case propped up beside you. The first sip is like a warm hug, washing away the stress of the day. Youâre halfway through your second pint when you see her.
-
You donât notice her at first. Not properly. Sheâs part of the blurâthe dim bar lights catching on glasses, the low hum of half-drunken conversation, the vague sense that youâve been here before even if you havenât. Sheâs leaning against the counter, waiting for her drink, and itâs not until the bartenderâa man whose name might be Pete but who youâre pretty sure is just âOi, mateâ to everyone who comes inâhands her a gin and tonic that you actually see her.
And itâs a gin and tonic. Not a lager, not a rum and coke, not something ironic like a snakebite or one of those craft beers with names like Hops and Robbers. Itâs a G&T, clean and crisp, with a slice of lime balanced on the rim like itâs posing for a stock photo. The glass is crystal clear, and so are her nailsâshort, practical, painted the sort of soft pink that suggests she doesnât chew them during stressful moments (unlike you). She takes the drink with both hands, like sheâs steadying herself, and thereâs something about thatâthe deliberateness of itâthat hooks you.
You tell yourself youâre just looking because sheâs there. Because itâs either her or the guy at the next table whoâs been droning on about Bitcoin for twenty minutes straight. But itâs more than that. Thereâs a stillness to her, an odd kind of clarity that doesnât fit in a place like this, like sheâs wandered in from a parallel universe.
She turns slightly, and you catch her profile: sharp nose, strong jawline, cheekbones that could cut glass but probably wouldnât because she seems far too polite. Her hair is blondeânot platinum, not peroxide, but the kind of natural gold that makes you think of expensive shampoo and childhood summers. Itâs tied back loosely, wisps framing her face in a way that seems accidental but probably isnât.
Sheâs not wearing makeup. Or maybe she is, but itâs the invisible kindâthe kind that takes forty-five minutes to apply but looks like youâve just rolled out of bed looking flawless. Her jumper is navy, oversized enough to suggest she might have nicked it from someone elseâs wardrobe, paired with jeans that sit perfectly at her hips without being skinny. On her feet are white trainersâclean, like freshly ironed bedsheetsâAdidas, the classic three stripes in black, laces tied neatly, no fraying ends.
Youâre staring. You know you are. But she hasnât noticed, so it doesnât count.
The bartender mutters something to her, and she laughs. Not the loud, performative laugh you hear from most people in bars, but something softer, like itâs meant for her and her alone. The sound is so out of place in this dingy pub that it feels almost sacrilegious, like someoneâs brought a cathedral choir to sing in a nightclub.
You tell yourself to look away. You donât.
Instead, you light a cigarette, even though the pub is strictly non-smoking. You do it for the aesthetic, the same way you do most things. Thereâs a half-empty pint in front of youâlager, flat and warm, probably with someone elseâs fingerprints on the glassâbut you take a sip anyway, because what else are you going to do?
She turns then, her gaze sweeping the room, and youâre caught like a deer in headlights. For a second, you think sheâs looking at you, but sheâs not. Sheâs looking past you, at the dartboard on the wall behind your head. Her expression is curious, like sheâs trying to figure out why anyone would bother playing darts in a place like this.
Then her eyes meet yours, and the world tilts.
Itâs not love at first sight, not really. Love at first sight is for Disney films and Hallmark cards and people who shop at Waitrose without looking at the prices. This is something else. Recognition, maybe. Like youâve seen her before in a dream or a half-remembered story someone told you once. Like youâve spent your whole life waiting for this moment without knowing it.
She holds your gaze for a second longer than is polite. Then she looks away, back at her gin and tonic, and you realise youâve been holding your breath.
-
You donât approach her right away. That would be too obvious, too predictable. Instead, you wait, watching her out of the corner of your eye while pretending to scroll through your phone. Itâs a shitty phone, cracked and outdated, but youâve never bothered upgrading because you secretly enjoy the low expectations it sets. No one looks at you and expects success when your phone screen is held together with Sellotape.
She moves to a table in the corner, near the radiator, and sits down alone. No book, no laptop, no visible excuse to be here other than the gin and tonic in her hand. She sips it slowly, methodically, like sheâs savouring it. Like sheâs savouring this.
You wonder what her story is.
Is she waiting for someone? A friend, a boyfriend, a clandestine meeting with a lover? Or is she just one of those people who can sit alone in public without feeling like a target? Youâve never understood that kind of confidenceâthe kind that lets you exist without an audience, without a role to play.
You take another sip of your pint, then decide, fuck it.
You stand, grab your bass (because leaving it behind would feel like abandoning a child), and make your way across the room. Your boots squeak against the sticky floor, and you curse them under your breath. She looks up as you approach, her expression unreadable.
âMind if I join you?â you ask, gesturing vaguely at the empty chair across from her.
She hesitates, just for a moment, then nods.
âSure.â
Her voice is soft, but not shy. Measured. Like sheâs weighing every word before she says it.
You sit, placing your bass case carefully against the table leg. For a moment, neither of you speaks. Youâre not sure what to say, and she seems content to let the silence stretch. Itâs not uncomfortable, exactly, but itâs not easy, either.
Finally, she breaks it.
âYouâre in a band,â she says, nodding toward the bass. Itâs not a question.
You smile. âYeah. What gave it away?â
She raises an eyebrow, and you realise itâs a stupid question.
âWhatâs the band called?â
You tell her, and she nods, like sheâs vaguely heard of it but couldnât name a single song.
âIâm Alessia,â she says, holding out her hand. Her grip is firm, her skin warm.
âNice to meet you,â you reply, and for the first time in a long time, you actually mean it.
#alessia russo#alessia russo x reader#awfc#awfc x reader#engwnt#engwnt x reader#woso#woso x reader#woso imagine#woso community
181 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Azriel x reader - In Between, part IV
Summary: waking up, you realise Lucien was completely right: the man sleeping beside you is an abuser. But how will you escape him and why does this shadow seem to be belonging with you ?
Warning: angst, lots of angst, mention of SA attempt, fight, mention of blood, kinda fluff if you squint, so much sweet Azzy you could die, but also threatening scary Azzy, nightmares, not proofread sorry, my English of course.
Note: again I wholeheartedly apologise for the late posting. Iâm so so so happy to get back !!! Here I met 4 there surely will be a part 5 and maybe a part 6 or an epilogue. But for this one, Iâm not really sure I like about how it turned out. Let me know in the comments I love when you have something to say ! Just remember to be nice and polite please ! đđť love you all â¤ď¸â¤ď¸â¤ď¸â¤ď¸
Part I, part II, part III
The morning came quickly. Too quick for your liking. The second you opened your eyes, Aaronâs mouth was on you. You tried to push him back but seeing his face you understood that you were in a very bad position : his eyes were full of lust and hunger and they didnât seem to have anything stopping them.
Panic flooded in your veins and grabbing the sheets to have something covering you, you ran away from your bedroom. He followed you closely, screaming, and yelling that you were such an ungrateful slut, whom he had been too nice to wait for and that if you wanted it or not, he would take you anyway.
Fear had paralysed you and he caught you quickly before pining you roughly to the wall. His hands were on every inch of your skin. It felt disgusting, his mouth leaving saliva behind on the column of your neck, on your collarbone, your chest.
His hands were now dangerously closed to your core, and in a last moment of desperation you kicked him in the balls, pushed him off and ran in your bathroom.
Closing the door, he was already banging against it, screaming like a mad man. He was so strong that the door almost gave in twice. Fear had gripped you and you curled yourself in the corner of your bathtub, crying desperately for a different ending of your life than this.
You didnât want it to end now : you hadnât met your mate, your friendship with lucien was on thin ice because of you and you havenât even apologised. You regretted lots and lots of moments in your possibly missed life : you regretted not being able to see Nyx grow up, to continue your friendship with Feyre and last but not least you regretted not having kissed those beautiful lips that belonged to Azriel⌠Lucien was so right about you. How could he know you so much when you sign even yourself ? Of course you didnât want this psycho of male threatening to abuse you, as he exactly said the other day, you still werenât over Azriel. You still wanted Azriel, you needed him with every bit of your body and soul. They aches for the beautiful male. And now it was too late. The mere thought made you crying even more that you didnât sense the comforting and cold presence caressing your skin.
Not even minutes later the shoutings suddenly stopped and they transformed into pain, even agony screams.
Big steps were heard behind your door and you didnât even want to know who they belonged to : you had already accepted your fate. So you closed your eyes and waited for death to come like an old friend. But it never arrived, darkness and emptiness never found you. Strong arms wrapped around your shivering frame with care and attention, and your eyes bursted open when you sensed the familiar feeling of burn scars on your bare skin. Hazel sought for your eye colour with so much more worry than you could ever imagine. His mesmerising and deep eyes went down on your chest and shot up immediately with some light pink crawling under them : the sheet had managed to slide off your shoulder and it didnât cover you enough anymore. Ashamed you quickly out your hands to cover yourself a bit and draped the fabric better on your skin.
As Azriel walked out of your bathroom, you saw Aaron, hurt and unconscious lying on the floor of your apartment. He was in a bad state : blood coated his bruising face and you caught sight of two teeth or three inches away.
No words came out from Azrielâs mouth as he took off for the House of Winds and when he arrived. Even when Cassian and Rhysand came to him completely confused and panicked at your appearance. But he seemed to throw some orders at Rhys in his mind and definitely sent a warning glare to the long-haired man newt to him.
He brought to a room, a big dark one but still full of light. You were delicately put on a silky enormous mattress and given a fresh glass of water. Still no one spoke a word and you didnât even register when you started to fall in Morpheus arms.
��â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
Sweat covered your body and a deep frown adorned your face when Azriel came back in his room to check on you. You were moving and kicking in your sleep letting fearful pleas and whines out of your presses mouth. Azriel ran to you trying to wake you up. He knew better than to let you in the horrible trap that can be your own fears all grouped in nightmares.
Tears stained your cheeks as your body went still and as your worst scenario faded away to leave room to the reality happening before you. Azriel was watching you closely, his hand caressing your still trembling frame and his voice shushing you. The sobs couldnât stop and you wrapped tightly your arms around his broad shoulders. Azriel never stopped your embrace and whispered :
âIâm here now, everythingâs fine. Youâre not in danger anymore, you are here with me and everything will be alrightâ
Rocking back and forth you calmed down a bit before responding.
âI thought.. I thought I was going to- toâŚ
-I know. But nothing will happen now, he will never be able to even lay a finger on you.â
With a shaky and raspy from all the crying, voice, you asked :
âYou promise ? Youâre sure ?
-I am and I promise.â
A strange tingling behind your ear and behind his as well marked your promise now forever engraved on your skins.
Since it was the middle of the night, you rapidly fell asleep again, in the comfort and security of Azrielâs arms. He tried not to sleep, but ended up doing so with the exhaustion from the panic and fear he had felt deep in his bones for hours today. You probably wouldnât even realise, but he had been so scared for you when the shadow came to warn him about what was happening to you. He had run and flown the fastest he could to come find you, knocking off some furniture in his trail. He couldnât possibly imagine another man laying forcefully his hands on you without your consent : no that was not going to happen, never, not when he was still breathing and his heart still beating.
Sound asleep, you were woken up by the sounds of dishes in the kitchen. What had happened last night slams back into you full force : Aaron and his attempt to ⌠no you didnât want nor need to think about it. You observed your environment, the dark room of Azriel, minimalist like him : a bed, a closet and some armoires but not much more. Except a mirror, a big mirror, standing in front of the enormous bed you were in. Your mind started to wander to the use of the said mirror just in front of a king-size bed costumed to big Illyrian wings, full of silky sheets so sweet at the touchâŚNo no no ! You couldnât go there stop that ! Your cheeks and neck heat up instantly. Shaking your head to make these obnoxious thoughts go away, you made your way outside the room and into the kitchen. There he was, beauty and charm both standing before you, making you both breakfast you assumed. He stiffened and turned to look at you when he sensed you. His hazel eyes trailed down your body to your thighs not covered by anything and quickly tuned back to continue what he was doing. You hadnât noticed but you were wearing a big and loose tee shirt that arrived to the middle of your thighs and a pair of boxers that were far from belonging to you. âOh shoot!â Embarrassment ran through your whole body of the situation : how could you have not seen that you were wearing his clothes ? But wait⌠how did you even get into his clothes ? Last time you remembered you were⌠oh cauldron boil you ! Your cheeks and hid behind your hand at some search of reassurance.
âI tried not to look if thatâs what youâre wondering about.
-Thanks, I guess. For that and the rescue and everything actually.
-Itâs okay really. About that, how are you doing, do you want to maybe talk about it or not, itâs up to you. I- I donât want you to think Iâm forcing you into something.
-Donât worry Azriel, Iâm okay, at least I guess I am.â
Silence returned and he placed two plates full of eggs, bacon, pancakes and fruits in them, on the counter, which you were seated to on a stool.
You ate in silence, enjoying a good meal after a whole day being asleep without eating.
âWho was he ? Azriel asked at of nowhere.
-What ?
-Who was he ? And why was he in your apartment ?
-His name is Aaron, Iâve seen him a lot these past few weeks. He slept at mine the night before.
-Like a date ?
-Yes like a date. And no Iâm not going to tell you details of our night. But the morning came and just as I woke he was on me and I couldnât do anything. And by the way, how did you even know I was in danger ?
-One of my shadow stayed with you after babysitting Nyx, despite me trying to get it back, and it came to me to warn me when you were in your bathroom.
-Where is he now ?â
Azrielâs look darkened and he didnât answer you.
âAz, where is he now ? You repeated your question, articulating each word.
-You donât want to know. Heâs being dealt dont worry if thatâs what is your concern.
-Oh..-â
As you were about to continue Cassian, followed quickly by Feyre barged in the kitchen. Feyre was the first hugging you.
âI am so so so sorry you had to live that, and I am so sorry I wasnât there to help you.â
She had tears in her eyes and still hoped that this was all a bad joke, that it never happened to you. Cassian was a close second to swim you in his arms for a big bear hug.
âDonât worry, with Rhys and Az weâre examining all the possibilities to make the bastard regret what heâs done to you.
-Thanks to you both.
-Yn, are you alright ? Feyre asked.
-Yeah I am, just feeling a bit empty but I am.â
You smiled at he worried face to prove what you were saying.
âDonât hesitate to ask any of us, if you need anything.
-Yes I promise, but I donât need anything for now⌠Actually, do you know where Lucien is ? And if he-âŚ
-Yes heâs aware, and feeling guilty about it but didnât want to tell me why. Heâs in his room here in the House of Wind because he didnât to be too far from you in case you needed him.â
You silently thanked her and sent a last thankful look to Azriel as you walked away to find your dear friend.
You donât even know how much time you spent in front of his door not knowing if you really had the guts to open it. As you put your hand on the doorknob, it opened and a sleep deprived red haired man appeared in front of you, shock adorning his features from seeing you. In a second you were in his arms and booths of you were crying so much that you were soaking each otherâs shirt.
âIâm sorryâ
You said at the same time.
âNo Lu, I am really I am. I shouldâve listened to you. I shouldâve understood your point of view and should not have treated you the way that I did. Youâve always been so good to me and all I have done is be such a brat to the bestest friend Iâve ever had. I am so so sorry.
-As I am. You are completely forgiven for what youâve said, even if I canât say that it didnât affect me.
-Yes I completely understand and I promis I will make up to you.
-I really am sorry too. I should have stayed and not yelled at you to tell you what I saw. I am sorry about that. I knew this guy was bad. I knew it !
-Yes, you were completely right. Again I apologise.
-Everything is forgotten now. And fortunately because I missed you braiding my hair.â
Cries transformed in laughs and hugs s and kisses from happiness of having finally found again your platonic soulmate.
You spent all day in Lucienâs room telling him about your babysitting week with Nyx and Azriel, about Aaron and what had happened. You avoided the parts where Azriel and you had slept tangled with each other or where you had made a bargain in the middle of the night, curling against him.
You left the House of Wind in the late afternoon with a pained Azriel, whose touch lingered on you a few seconds when he flew you down. The same shadow wrapped around your wrist and another one around your ankle.
You and Lucien has strolled around Velaris for the evening, you had tested out a little pastry shop near the Rainbow and had joked and laughed on the bridge of the Sidra.
You both walked to his flat, a mutual understanding that you didnât have the strength to go back to yours tonight. Before opening the door, you looked at the night sky, two stars caught your attention, one brighter than the other, that seemed a bit off tonight. Your hand felt drawn to your new tattoo behind your ear and gasped when your fingers made out the pattern now engraved on your skin : two shining stars that seemed orbiting around each others until they reached the other and became one.
âLu ?
-mmmh yes ?
-I think heâs my mate.â
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
Taglist:
@mirandasidefics @63angel @leeknows-wife @thehighlordishere @annaaaaa88 @starsinyourseyes @oucereeng @wallacewillow0773638 @kalulakunundrum @lilah-asteria @samuelseoswife
#acotar#acotar x reader#azriel x reader#writers on tumblr#azriel x you#azriel x yn#azriel acotar#acotar x you#acotar x y/n#rhysand#feyre archeron#cassian#lucien vanserra#lucien x reader
68 notes
¡
View notes
Text
đáŁÝďšđđŽđ đ˘ đŠđ¨đ§đđđŤ đ˛đ¨đŽďš
ă
¤ŰŤă
¤ Ë ŰŞËđ˛ďšsynopsis!! tsukishima helps out the new neighbor who moved into the apartment next to him, only he didnt know what would come of it  ă
¤ Ëă
¤ă
¤ŰŤă
¤ Ë๨ cw!! timeskip k. tsukishima x chubby!fem!reader Â ďš â note!!  playlist i listened to while making this ! i do plan on making a part two soon !! ๨ wc!! 4.4k part two !! >>
Waking up Tsukishima stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars placed above his bed, watching as they faded with the oncoming sun peeking through the blinds. He dreaded mornings, he hated the way his mouth felt dry, how hot he felt under the sheets, and most of all, waking up meant he'd have to deal with a new day of idiots doing things he hated.
Tsukishima hated a lot of things, he hated his old rowdy neighbor, he hated overly cheery people, the feeling of cold coffee in the morning, how polyester felt against his skin, and he especially hated when his neighbors tried to get to know him.
Putting his headphones on he stepped out into the hallway, only to be greeted by the sight of you trying to lift a box into your new apartment.
You decided to save money youd only ask the movers to move your furniture and not your boxes, you were deeply regretting that decision right now. You only had three more boxes to go but the soreness was already catching up to you from the other ten.
The sight was enough to annoy Tsukishima, why didn't you just ask for help instead of trying to do everything yourself, movers are a thing. Did you not have friends that could help you do this? He tried his best to ignore you while locking his door but a part of him felt bad for you, that you couldn't even complete a simple task.
With a sigh, he made his way over and took the box from your hands which startled you.
"Oh, you don't have to-"
"Where do I put it," He cut you off flatly before he could change his mind about helping you.
You were thrown off by his tone, its not like you asked him to help you so why was he so angry?
"In the living room is fine, thank you, sorry," You weren't sure whether you should be apologizing or thanking so you settled on doing both, which just earned another sigh from Tsukishima.
You were surprised by how easily he lifted the rest of the boxes, despite how skinny he looked he was really strong, or maybe you were just really weak, but to save your ego you decided he was just strong.
"Thank you again for helping," You looked up at him as he sat the last box down on the floor. You noticed this guy sighed a lot, it made you feel like you were somehow wasting his time.
Looking down at his watch he realized how much time had passed and he mumbled something under his breath before leaving your apartment.
He didn't even acknowledge your gratitude. The entire encounter had you stunned, was he really going to be your next-door neighbor?
With a content sigh, you plopped down on your couch and instantly relaxed, you had finally finished unpacking every box and arranging your furniture the way you liked it, and it only took you six hours. Despite how tired your body was you wanted to do something to show your grumpy neighbor how thankful you were, and you were gonna do it in the only way you knew how to show thanks.
Baking. But first, you would have to go grocery shopping.
Heading toward the elevator at the end of the hall the door opened to reveal your tall, grumpy neighbor, still wearing the same frown he left in. Only it seemed to deepen at the sight of you.
You smiled at him as he exited the elevator. Tsukishima prayed you wouldn't try to talk to him, but of course, like every other time, his prayer wasn't heard.
"Hey, neighbor! I never got your name," You beamed up at him, looking at him now he was freakishly tall, his hair was disheveled, and he looked sweaty, it was almost enough to intimidate you.
"If you know it, you'll say it," He flatly said, walking past you to his apartment door.
You didn't know what you did to possibly receive this kind of treatment, it wasn't even your first day living here and this guy acted like he hated you.
"What did I do to you?" You asked, slightly irritated by his ego.
He simply ignored your question and entered his apartment, promptly closing the door.
It's not like Tsukishima intended to be rude to you, well, he partially did. But there was truth to his words. If you knew his name then you'd assume he was your friend and you'd try and talk to him, and he just didn't want that. His apartment was a place where he didn't have to talk to anyone and he intended to keep it that way. He couldn't understand why you didn't get the hint.
You weren't gonna let his rude attitude stop you from baking him something, it only made you more motivated to bring a smile to his frowny face.
You weren't sure what you'd bake him so you decided to go with your own favorite dish, strawberry shortcake.
Walking down the aisles you stared at everything in your cart, you had gotten some regular food items you'd need for the next few week's meals, as well as some snacks and drinks you enjoyed. Now all that's left is to get the ingredients for the desert you'd be making your neighbor.
Looking up at the signs above the aisles you searched for where the flower would be. Once you found it you walked over, only to see the one and only standing there in front of the vanilla bottles staring intently at them. You wondered what he could be doing there.
"Hey, you," You greeted, resting your arms on the cart handle as you walked over.
Tsukishima didn't need to look to see who the voice belonged to, why were you everywhere he went?
You noticed he looked much cleaner now, and his blond hair was much more neat.
"What're you doing? Did the vanilla bottles look at you the wrong way?" You joked, stopping right in front of him. Your eyes shifted between him and the bottles, trying to figure out what he was doing.
He didn't answer you, in hopes you'd get the hint this time but that never worked out in the past. Your joke only further annoyed him.
You came to the only reasonable explanation hed be standing here staring for so long at the bottles, he didn't know the difference.
"What flavor were you looking for?" You asked, trying to sound as nonjudgemental as you could, not wanting to annoy him any further.
"What?" He asked confused.
"Well, Bourbon, or Madagascar, vanilla has a much stronger taste," You explained, pointing to the bottle you were speaking about. "While Mexican vanilla has more of a spice and smokey tone to its flavoring, and Tahitian vanilla is the opposite, its fruity and floral, almost cherry-like." You spoke softly as he nodded along.
"It's all based on your preference and what you're going to be cooking." You finished off, looking up at him.
He only nodded as he reached for the Bourbon vanilla bottle and placed it in his shopping basket.
"Thanks," He muttered out. He wondered how you knew so much about vanilla flavors, they all tasted the same to him.
"Youre welcome, can I get your name now?"
He paused for a moment before turning to you. "No,"
You let out a breath of defeat as you grabbed your own bottle, but you knew it's fine, you'd get his name one way or another, you're sure of it.
Placing your shopping bags on your counter you sighed, thankful they had an elevator or else you would've passed out walking the heavy bags up five flights of stairs.
Putting away the groceries you left out the required ingredients needed to make the strawberry shortcake.
Placing the strawberries in a bowl you layered them with sugar and gave it a light mix, only wanting to coat the strawberries in the sugar. Once that was done you began on the small cake and placed it into the oven.
An hour passed and if was finally done, it was the most beautiful thing you'd laid eyes on, it almost brought a tear to your eye. And to think the frowny, grumpy, rude, annoyed neighbor would have the chance to eat it brought a smile to your face.
Placing the treat into a small box you picked up at the store you carefully made your way to your neighbor's door and gave it a knock.
You stood there for a few moments before you heard muffled voices and the unlock of a door.
Tsukishima peeked his head out and saw you before fully opening the door.
He didn't say anything and instead raised his eyebrow, waiting for you to say what you needed.
"Sorry if I disturbed you, but I baked you a shortcake! I wasn't sure what you liked so I made you something I liked, as a thanks," You explained as well as telling him your name and handing over the box which he took and peeked into. If you were looking close enough you could see a glimmer of happiness in his eyes.
"Hm," He let out.
"Do you not-"
"Tsukishima Kei," He cut you off, something he seemed to enjoy doing.
You were stunned, "Tsukishima?" You tested the way it rolled off your tongue.
"Dont wear it out, is that all?"
"So does this mean we are friends?" You asked cheerfully, earning a sigh from him.
"No, now goodbye," He said before closing the door.
It wasn't a smile, but you learned his name so you counted that as a win.
Tsukishima walked into his kitchen and grabbed a fork, immediately ready to try his favorite dessert.
"Who was that?" Tsukishimas girlfriend, Etsuko, asked from the living room.
"My neighbor brought me some strawberry shortcake," He said, hoping she wouldn't make an argument over this like she always did, it was something he disliked, and didn't see the point in meaningless arguments but it was a habit she had recently picked up on, the latest one being about his volleyball teams manager.
"Oh? The new girl?" Her voice was laced with jealousy, something he could easily pick up on with how often she spoke in a tone like that.
"Yeah, I helped her move her boxes," He explained while biting into the shortcake, his tastebuds almost exploding with how flavorful it was, and in the privacy of his own kitchen, he cracked a small smile at your dish.
"Why'd you do that?" She asked, now moving to the kitchen to get a better view of Tsukishima, his smile quickly fading.
"Why does it matter?" He asked, annoyance visible on his face and voice.
She shrugged, "Just doesn't seem like something you'd do,"
He let out a sigh while picking up another bite with his fork, "Yeah well I did it Etsuko,"
"Jeez, what's your problem?"
It was as if she knew just how to push Tsukishimas buttons like she was destined to be here and get on his nerves, and she wasn't always like this but lately, it was like her sole purpose was to interrogate and bother him.
Instead of giving in to her, Tsukishima decided to remain quiet and enjoy the shortcake, hoping she'd give up and go back to her original spot on the couch.
The entire night you couldn't wipe the smile off your face, despite what Tsukishima said, you considered him your friend.
Waking up the sunbeams shone across your face, welcoming you to another day filled with new possibilities, you loved mornings, it was like a second chance, any mistakes you made yesterday were, well, yesterday's news. You loved how the sun looked as it rose above the buildings, it was a beautiful sight to wake up to.
Looking at the clock it read six o'clock, you needed to be at work in an hour, it would be your first day back in a week do to moving and you were extremely excited to be back and baking, maybe you'd bring your new friend a sweet treat home.
Opening your door you were met with the sight of Tsukishima locking his door, he had a plain white shirt on and a pair of blue jeans while he carried a plain hoodie on his side, as well as his usual headphones around his neck.
"Tsukishima!" You cheerfully greeted him as you walked up to him, you couldn't hear it but you knew he sighed, he always did that to you, so much so you've gotten used to it.
"Why're you up so early," He asked, though it sounded more like a statement than a question in his voice while you walked to the elevator together.
"Well, today I start work again at the bakery two blocks from here! I'm super excited about it, I've been missing work lately." You explained.
Tsukishima found your enthusiasm for things quite annoying, he couldn't understand how you could be so excited and cheerful this early in the morning.
"What do you have planned today, tsuki?" You beamed, pressing the floor button on the elevator.
Tsukishima would never admit it but he did like the way you said his nickname, it was different from how everyone else said it, and it was innocent in a way.
"College classes, and practice," He dully said, watching the doors close while he shoved his hands in his pockets.
"Practice?"
"Volleyball practice,"
You made a sound of excitement and admiration, "Youre a volleyball player? Thats so cool!" You said, looking up at him.
"It's not that cool," He sneered.
"Well, it makes sense! Youre like crazy tall and strong,"
Your compliments were almost enough to bring a blush to his cheeks, and he was thankful the elevator doors opened before you could get any more innocent compliments in.
"You know it's gonna be cold today, right?" He asked, looking your outfit up and down.
"It is?" You asked worriedly, in your rush to get ready you completely forgot to check the weather, and you still had to walk to work in the cold.
"Couldn't even check the weather," He sighed, shoving his hoodie into your hands.
"Tsuki.." You nervously said.
"Dont thank me, just dont let it happen again," He sternly said.
"No, it's just," You paused, looking down embarrassed.
"What?" He asked, raising his brow at your form. It was unlike you to be shy and nervous.
You took a deep breath, "What if it doesn't fit," You meekly said.
That thought hadn't crossed Tsukishimas mind, mostly because he didn't care about that sort of thing.
"It will," He simply stated, motioning for you to put it on.
This was a side of Tsukishima you weren't used to, you had expected him to laugh at your embarrassment, or just ignore you, but it gave you enough will to pull the hoodie over your head and he was right, it did in fact fit. His scent invaded your being, and a small blush rose to your cheeks.
Tsukishima hoped you didn't see his own blush at the sight of you in his hoodie. He didn't know why he was being so nice to you right now, but hearing you say it wouldn't fit irked something inside of him.
"Thanks, Tsuki," You looked up at him with a soft smile.
"Whatever," He turned away from you and walked out of the entrance to the complex, placing his headphones on his ears and taking out his phone.
You smiled the entire way to the bakery, with a warm feeling in your stomach with every inhale of Tsukishimas scent.
You felt disappointment for the first time when you approached your work because entering meant you'd have to take off the hoodie since you didn't want to get it covered in batter and flour.
Walking to the back towards the employee lockers you greeted the familiar faces of your employees with a cheery smile, disappointment soon being washed over with glee as you carefully hanged the hoodie in your locker and tied your apron around your waist ready to begin the day.
You always loved this job since the moment you got it, it truly was a blessing to you, you get paid for doing things you love and you get to meet all different kinds of people.
You noticed a girl standing by the counter and rushed over.
"Hello!" You greeted her with a bright smile, excited to meet a new person, you hadn't seen her here before.
"So, youre Tsukishimas new neighbor?"
The question had caught you off guard and a confused look appeared on your face, "Yeah?" You replied though it sounded more like a question than an answer.
"Well, he's my boyfriend," She stated.
You raised your eyebrow at her, what kind of reaction was she trying to get out of you?
"Good for you?"
"You should hear the things he's been saying about you," She sneered.
You didn't like where this conversation was going, and it angered you that you could tell where it'd go.
You didn't like feeling angry, in fact, it was one of the few things you hated, because when you felt angry you also felt sad, and sadness usually led to slumps where you didn't feel like doing anything and where life feels meaningless.
"If you aren't gonna get anything then please leave," You tried to hang onto the last string of cheerfulness you had, the last string of patience with her. You didn't want to be angry at her since she was clearly someone special to Tsukishima and you'd hate to genuinely upset him.
"Just know he isn't who you may think he is," She said before turning and taking her leave.
You weren't sure what to make of the encounter, you didn't know if you should be mad or upset, and you knew Tsukishima could be rude but would he really talk bad about you behind your back? Is it even worth asking? Maybe you'd just take the hint and leave him alone like he always wanted you to, and looking back now you should've seen it sooner, all his one-worded replies and the way he addressed you with such coldness. You'd just give him what he wanted.
The day came and went and it was time for you to head back home, only this time Tsukishima's hoodie was clenched in your fist, and the emotions you'd been repressing all day bubbled back up like soda, you understood you hadn't known him for long but you considered him a friend and you thought he did the same in his own antisocial rude way.
You were so lost in thought you didn't even care how harsh the cold was nipping at your skin and you only realized when you entered the warm lobby of your apartment, that the warmth instantly engulfed you as you shuddered away the cold. You silently prayed that you wouldn't cross paths with Tsukishima, but your prayers were cut short when you heard a voice from behind you, and it didn't take much to guess who it was.
You were surprised that he was the one greeting you, but you wouldn't give in, this is what he wanted. As soon as you entered the elevator you started spamming the close door button but in two strides he was already in, damn him and those long legs.
Tsukishima instantly caught on to the attitude change towards himself. Usually, you'd be chatting his ear off, talking about everything and anything and he'd be there, listening to every word of it while acting like he wasn't. Like how two days ago while walking to the elevator you were talking about the nature documentaries you watched and how they always made you cry but you could never turn them off. But now you were quiet, and looking everywhere but him, he didn't like it one bit. In fact, he hated it.
"Did you burn a bread roll or something?" He sneered, trying to gauge any sort of reaction out of you, a smile, a laugh, a look, anything.
Well he did get a reaction, you shoved his hoodie into his chest and sped off to your door, slamming it shut before he could even get a word in.
He sighed and headed for his, disappointment spreading through his body when his eyes met his girlfriends.
Tsukishima softly closed the door and kicked off his shoes, his mind still on you and the way you completely ignored him earlier. He tried racking his brain on what he could've possibly done to upset you other than ignore you, be rude, give you the cold shoulder, be dry. But he thought you understood and didn't care about all that stuff, though he could admit maybe he took the whole act a bit too far at times. He started to feel like a jerk, and for the first time in a long while, he felt like he should apologize to you. The only thing is he wasn't sure how to or where to start.
It had been a week since you last spoke to Tsukishima, and it had been five days since you last stood in the same elevator, he was partially okay with you not speaking to him but purposefully avoiding him? He decided today was the day he'd try and make things right with you. Even he couldn't believe his thoughts right now, never in a million years did he think he'd be going out of his way to try and get someone's forgiveness. But the days spent without you were quiet and dull, he no longer liked waking up, and he no longer liked the way the sun glared in his glasses, in fact, he found it once again absurd.
Tsukishima missed having you as a friend.
He missed your rambles, he missed being able to talk about his day in short sentences, and he missed you and the feelings you erupted in him.
And as soon as he awoke he found himself walking to your apartment, he wasn't sure what he was gonna say or how hed say it, or even how you replied but he knew he needed to do something if he was gonna keep you in his life.
He knocked twice, and after a few moments, you appeared, dressed in black pajama shorts that rode up a bit too high and a crop top. He could tell he had woken you up by the way you rubbed your eyes and how your hair was going in all directions. But even now, the sight of you made his heart rate increase.
You were stunned to see Tsukishima in your doorway, he looked like he hadnt had a good nights sleep.
"Yeah?" You asked, looking up at him.
"Why are you avoiding me?" He asked outright. You were surprised he even noticed you were intentionally avoiding him.
"Isn't that what you want?" Your voice cracked, you were trying your hardest to remain standing strong in front of him, not wanting to reveal that you genuinely miss talking to him.
"No, it's not," He spoke softly, looking you in your eyes to scan your reactions, to see if you showed any signs of wanting him to leave.
"Well, that's not what your actions say,"
"I know, and I apologize for giving you the wrong impression"
You stayed silent for a while, taking in the moment and trying to find the words to say to him.
"Then why did your girlfriend come to my job and tell me you've been saying all kinds of stuff?" You felt tears prick in the corners of your eyes and you internally cursed yourself for letting your facade slip.
Tsukishima felt anger bubble inside of him, of course, Etsuko had something to do with this, his days could've been filled with you, but they weren't, and of course, it was her fault.
"Listen, Tsuki, I appreciate you apologizing but,"
"She is lying, i haven't said anything bad about you, and I couldn't even if I wanted to,"
You didn't understand what he meant by even if he wanted to, the whole situation was confusing to you, why would she lie about something like that? What could she possibly gain by saying that to you? All sorts of questions were floating around your head and Tsukishima seemed to notice that.
"I want us to be friends again," He said, letting a small smile onto his face as he watched your eyes brighten. He was glad, the sight of you on the brink of tears brought a sort of sadness to his core.
"Tsuki," You paused, "Did you just say what I think you just said?"
He let out his usual sigh, "I'm not gonna say it again,"
"Just one more time?" You beamed, "I'll never ask again," You stepped closer to him, looking up with a pleading look, how could he ever say no? Well, he could and he did.
"No,"
You let out a sound of defeat. You both stood there for a few silent moments, just staring at each other with small smiles. Tsukishima was glad to be back on good terms with you, he knew he'd enjoy the mornings again, and he'd enjoy seeing the sun peek through the blinds because that meant hed get to talk to you for another day, hed get to see and hear you talk about the most random things, you'd once again be the highlight of his day.
"Wanna do something?"
"Like what?" You asked, raising a brow.
"Show me that show you were talking about a week ago, Euphoria? If you aren't too busy,"
You let out a shriek of happiness and pulled him inside by his shirt and dragged him to your dimly lit living room.
You plopped down on the couch and motioned for him to do the same as you turned on the TV. You were happy he apologized despite it taking him a week to do so, but you were glad to have your friend back, you had missed your mostly one-sided conversations, but you knew he was listening to you despite his actions saying otherwise.
You had gotten ten minutes into the first episode and there was already an intimate scene, and even though you both were already silent, the silence seemed to thicken as you both refused to look anywhere but the screen, if you moved would it show that you were uncomfortable? You probably should've warned him about how many intimate scenes were in this show. The closeness of Tsukishima did nothing to calm the awkwardness.
You reached for the remote to try and skip ahead but your hand was stopped by his, and you quickly turned to look at him, a bright blush adorning your cheeks at the contact.
Tsukishima wasnt one to like things, in fact, he hated most things, but you were certainly not one of them.
"I can't stay away from you," He said softly.
Your heart was racing, you didn't know what he meant by that or what way he meant it.
"Then dont,"
navi. tags. rules. Š đđđđđđđđđđđđđđ đđđđ â please don't copy, translate, or post any of my work without my permission !
part two >>
#fluff ৠ.á#haikyuu#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu ৠ.á#tsukishima kei#tsukishima x reader#x chubby reader#chubby reader#tsukishima fluff#tsukishima kei angst#tsukishima kei fluff#tsukishima kei x reader
134 notes
¡
View notes
Note
blowing some boys' back out please x3 your choice of 'em
that's 2 imprecise help neji gaara, sasuke, and minato? :3 bonus if the alpha is big in size. I'll be đˇ anon if not already taken ! mwah
(Hey, welcome đˇ anon! Let's see~)
N-sfw under cut
Let's set the scene!
It was a rough night last night, enthusiastic, hot, and very heavy.
And some soreness is totally normal after nights like this, especially when you consider your... greater than average size *cough*
But when your omega gets up the next morning, it's clear that the soreness is more than normal.
He's waddling around the house, holding himself gingerly, still kind of dazed from last night.
He probably has some emerging bruises in sensitive places, a few pulled muscles, too.
Maybe you were a little too enthusiastic đ
But how does he react?
Neji
He is deeply unimpressed by you.
He's sending you dirty looks, blaming you for his current condition and conveniently forgetting how much he was begging for it to be harder last night.
"How am I supposed to go shopping like this? đ "
You better be pampering him to say sorry.
He's going to settle down on the couch and you'll be doing all the chores and massaging the sore parts of his body.
Bring him snacks and butter him up with lots of lovey dovey apologies and he'll forgive you.
And then ask for that kind of sex again the next week smh.
Gaara
Concerned boy is concerned :(
Rough sex is extremely out of character for him, and so something must have triggered it. Perhaps extremely heightened emotions?
I'm not sure, but he's regretting it so much :(
He knew rough sex was a bad idea. He kind of feels bad about the whole thing.
For a shinobi, his pain tolerance is pretty low, but he still has to get to work because he has a village to run...
He keeps his composure remarkably well at work, but he goes home early and he expects lots of cuddles and kisses and gentle affection.
It's one of the only sex things that he won't overshare with his siblings because he's genuinely embarrassed by injuries that occurred from his perceived lack of control. He feels like he should know better.
Give him lots of love, okay?
Sasuke
He is SOOOOO embarrassed.
And he's pissed at you. But he won't say that because he's too busy pretending that nothing is wrong.
This lasts for all of 5 minutes before he realises that pretending he's fine means leaving the house like this, and he'd rather DIE.
So, the man who would try to train or take a mission while literally delirious with illness, actually takes a day off and hides in bed.
A bed that he kicks you out of by the way.
(but you can probably sneak back in with some well placed nuzzles)
What is he even so embarrassed about?
People knowing he has sex? Kinda, yes.
How fucking ridiculous he looks waddling around? Absolutely.
Not being strong enough to physically take his alpha without injury? Yes...
DO NOT tease him!
Just apologise once and then make him breakfast and don't bring it up ever again đ
Minato
He's a bit sheepish about the situation, because he remembers begging for it to be harder, and he should have known better.
Oh well! Now he knows better, and well, it was pretty hot.
He gets a bit turned on thinking about it, which probably hurts, so that train of thought dies quickly.
He will probably tease you about being so big and rough lol
To be honest though, he's totally fine, and he'll say "you don't have to do that" everytime you try to apologise or make it up to him.
He would appreciate you running him a bath and making him some food though, just to show him that you love him.
Let's just hope that he's not teaching that day đđť Because he is not as subtle as he thinks.
Or working as Hokage... Because his guard definitely know how he spent yesterday evening đ
#n-sfw#minato#gaara#sasuke#neji#omegaverse#a/b/o#headcanons#alpha!reader#hcs#alpha reader#omega neji#omega minato#omega gaara#omega sasuke
81 notes
¡
View notes
Text
đ¸ out of my mind ! đż track two: kowalski, status report
guitarist!ino x drummer!reader
summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something startsâsomething that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.
warnings: language, alcohol, mentions of drugs/drug dealing, toge bullying, unbearably cute dogs. || sfw. 9k words.
"I SHOULDN'T CUSS in this, right?"
Itâs the day before the other four artists premiere their sets at Battle of the Bands, and you havenât been home since six in the morning. Youâre running on caffeine and spite and the pursuit of the story, parked on a high stool across the bar from the one and only Ieiri Shoko.
Toge leans on the counter beside you, opting to stand. Heâs agreed to pay for the next snack run in return for you letting him be your partner. You both know youâre going to end up doing most of the writing, but you donât really mind. Toge would if you asked him to, but you love this kind of thing in a way he just doesnât. Plus, heâs better with a camera than you, and heâs taking photos tomorrow night.
You laugh, pulling out your phone to record. âYou can say whatever you want as long as itâs honest. Be candid.â
âYou might regret saying that!â Gojo calls from the back, and Shoko silences him with a glare.
âAre you coming or not?â
Gojo grins and finishes up whatever heâs putting away in the storage room, then strides out and leans his elbows on the counter.
âDo you mind if I record?â You point to the open voice memo app. âMakes it easier to quote you correctly.â You also just hate running interviews when youâre scribbling hand-written notes the whole time. Youâd much rather have a genuine conversation and worry about the details later.
Shoko waves a hand airily. âNo problem.â
âAbsolutely,â Gojo says. âYou can probably sell that for thousands.â
You set the phone on the counter, next to one of the tiny pumpkins scattered across it in celebration of the beginning of October. You and Toge bounce back and forth as you run through the standard start-of-interview checklist, having them spell out their names, getting their ages, hometowns, degrees, all that jazz. And then you launch into the stuff you really care about.
âSo, you opened The Fix about ten years ago now, correct?â
Shoko nods. âYeah, a little over two years after we graduated.â
You look at Gojo, whose eyes are even more alarmingly blue in the daylight. âAnd you were hired right away?â
âUtahime first, then me,â he nods. âBest for last, yâknow.â
Shoko snorts. âWe knew each other in school. I just took pity on him.â She smirks as Gojoâs jaw drops. âYou can quote that.â
âRight, so all of you were friends in college. And you came together to start this placeâwhat was the idea behind it?â Toge chimes in. âYou said you studied nursing, Shoko?â
And you sit and listen as Shoko explains. Back in college, she was at the top of her class. By graduation, sheâd been accepted to basically all the best med schools. She had her pick. She could do whatever she wanted. But she realized that what she wanted wasnât that at all.
The medical field is brutal, she tells you. Itâs all late nights and emotional burnout. People yelling at you, misplaced anger when you give them the bad news. Getting attached to people only to watch them waste away.
âI needed to get out before I got too far in. Maybe it was selfish,â she admits. âBut I wasnât cut out for it. I have so much admiration for medical professionals, but I couldnât be one of them. A few clinicals and I was already feeling the consequences of giving too much of myself and getting nothing back.â She shrugs. âSo I named it The Fix, as some kind of homage to the medical background. And I figured Iâd just make sure itâs safe.â
Something sits heavy in her gaze as she stares at something behind you, middle distance, like sheâs remembering.
âWhy a college bar?â you ask, nudging the phone across the counter to pick up her voice better. âI mean, the extra security, thinking about underage drinking, dealing with a bunch of broke university kids. You couldâve just as easily opened a different bar in a more lucrative area. What was the appeal?â
She smiles crookedly. âAppeal. Well. My senior year, I was working in the local ER. And I saw⌠god. So many kids came in there needing their stomachs pumped, or kids whoâd done laced drugs, gotten roofied, harassed, it was⌠I mean, it was a city university club scene. They werenât safe. And I just felt like I needed to give them that. I couldnât stay there as a nurse or a doctor. But I could do this.â She shrugs. âSorry. That was probably way too much.â
âNo,â you say quickly, smiling at her. âThat wasâthatâs what we came here for. Shoko, thatâs amazing. And itâs not selfish, taking care of yourself. Youâre still here taking care of others.â
You donât know Gojo well. Most of your stories about him come secondhand from Nobara, who knows him through Megumi. She paints the picture of a flamboyant, obnoxious bartender whoâs more like a weird uncle to her than anything. From what youâve seen of him at The Fix, you know this to be mostly accurateâheâs rarely serious, always taking flack from the students and giving it right back, ragging on Utahime, begging Shoko to play his playlist instead of Getoâs and knowing sheâll never cave. But now, as he listens intently to Shoko, you think youâre seeing another side of him.
Thereâs something troubled on his face as she speaks, like he wishes he could reach into the past and help. Like he regrets it.
The barâs not the only thing that has a different side in the daylight.
âSheâs right,â Gojo tells Shoko. Itâs not much, but she looks up at him a bit surprised, something in her expression softening. A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, not quite there but not quite not. âYouâve got a pretty big heart under all that RBF.â Shoko rolls her eyes, the moment over.
âWhat about you?â You turn to Gojo, nudging the phone his way. âWhy a college bar?â
Shoko turns toward him, leaning a hip against the bar, just as curious as you are. âI think kids deserve to be kids,â he shrugs. âAnd if Iâif weâcan create a space where itâs actually safe for them to do that, it feels important.â His gaze shifts from you and Toge to the empty bar, the stage and floor and high-top tables that tomorrow will be full of music and laughter and students knowing theyâre allowed to let loose here.
âThere arenât a lot of places out there that are exclusively for students,â he continues. âItâs this weird phase, college, where youâre figuring out who you are, trying to take risks without losing too much. Itâs a lot. And you look at the crime rates, date rape drugs, theft, DUIs, in the city, and itâs justâthis place gives them the room to learn and grow and mess around and have a good time without the danger of the⌠I donât know. The outside world. Does that make sense?â
He drums his fingers on the countertop, then seems to abruptly remember the recording and stops. âI think itâs just⌠well, no oneâs allowed to take youth away from young people. So thatâs why Iâm here.â
You wonder what Gojo was like in school. He majored in gender studies, which youâre pretty sure is what Todo is at least minoring in, tooâyouâre not sure how itâs applicable to anything, but Nobara says he likes to pull his diploma out from behind the bar and say heâs an expert in women. It seems a far cry from this rare, more subdued version of Gojo youâre seeing right now. Youâd guess heâs grown quite a bit in the time heâs been here. And Shokoâs been here to witness it.
Heâs not a business owner, like Shoko or Geto. And according to Nobara, he definitely doesnât need this gig to make a living. Heâs here because he wants to be.
âThese last few years have been nice, in particular,â he offers. âJust âcause some of us have kids going here. I mean, you know the Fushiguros. Suguruâs got the twins. And I know Inoâs not Nanamiâs kid, but theyâre tight.â
âWait, what?â Nanami is the barâs primary security guy, a bouncer who never lets a fake ID fool him. Heâs part of the reason this place is so safe. Toge spins to look at you as you blurt out the question, caught off guard. âUh, sorry. I just didnâtâI didnât know they knew each other.â
Shoko studies you with tired, intelligent eyes, and you canât help but feel the tables have been entirely flipped. Youâre the one being interrogated, wordlessly, by the woman across the counter. You feel like every thought in your head is scrawled across your face for her to read.
âYeah,â Gojo says, unaffected. âIno looks up to him a lot, I think. Even though heâs an old man who reads the newspaper for fun.â He snorts. âHeâs a good guy, though. And Inoâs a good kid.â He finally clocks the way Shokoâs looking at you and cocks his head, appraising.
Thankfully, Toge cuts in with another question. âSo, weâll be around tomorrow for the bands and to take some photos and observe,â he explains, glancing at you to make sure heâs got the information right. âWill Geto be around?â Youâd wanted both ownersâ perspectives, and now that Gojoâs reminded you of the twins, youâre even more curious.
âYeah, Suguru and Utahime will be here tomorrow night,â Shoko says. âAnd Nanami. Geto would totally be down to talk to you some other time, too, when itâs a bit quieter.â
âAmazing,â you say, pulling the phone back toward you. Youâll need details, follow-ups, but you need to process this first, write some things down while theyâre fresh in your mind. âThank you so much for this. We appreciate it.â
âAnytime, kid,â Shoko says, waving you off. âSee you tomorrow.â
As you turn off the recording, Gojo and Toge have already devolved into conversation about the bands and predictions about tomorrow night. A few posters are scattered across a low table near the door, and you pick one up, smiling at the blocky lettering advertising Black Flash. There are posters advertising all of the artists, and they look amazing, straight out of one of the alt rock venues in the wider city.
âTheyâre sick, right?â Gojo calls, nodding to the posters. âI gotta hang those up, actually. Thanks for the reminder.â
You wave goodbye to Shoko and Gojo and lead the way out, Toge just behind you.
âMan,â he says, and you brace yourself, recognizing his teasing tone for what it is. âThey said Inoâs name and you look like scared Bambi or some shit.â
âShut up,â you mutter, elbowing him.
He holds his hands up. âIâm just living in pursuit of the truth! Like Kusakabe would want.â
âIs your camera battery charged for tomorrow?â you say in a blatant attempt at a topic change.
âWho do you think I am?â
âToge Inumaki, chronically irresponsible student andââ
âOkay, sorry I asked, holy shit.â He sticks his tongue out at you. Then he hesitates, frowning, and then heâs pulling out his phone and calling someone in his favorites list before you can see who it is. âHey,â he greets. âWhat? No, she didnât kick me out. Hey. Hey.â You snicker and Toge glares at you, pressing the phone closer to his ear. âYutaaa,â he whines. âDo you know where my camera battery is?â
â
Even when youâre not the one on stage, you live for Fridays at The Fix. Tonight youâre doing double dutyâbecause of the dual elimination at the end of the round, all of the competing artists are here. Itâs not a requirement, but you want to see what youâre up against, and the sentiment seems to have carried. You and Toge are also in reporting mode for your project story.
The band on stage right now is⌠well, you canât say new wave metal is really your thing, but itâs definitely theirs, and the audience is loving it. The Cull, you write in your notes. Look up names.
You couldnât make out the lyrics if your life depended on it. Itâs three guys and a girl, vaguely familiar, but youâre fairly certain theyâre seniors and absolutely certain theyâre baked right now.
âGod, this is loud.â Yuta winces, turning to face you, and then his eyes flicker to something over your shoulder. You divert your attention from the stage and just catch the brief commotion in your periphery. Nanami has a kid by the elbow, and heâs escorting him out the side door, expressionless. The kidâs obviously drunk out of his mind, tripping over himself, shouting something that Nanami doesnât bother to respond to.
Maki follows your gaze and wrinkles her nose up in distaste.
âWhoâs that?â
âMy cousin,â she says flatly. You glance quizzically at Megumi, who is definitely standing five feet away and not being escorted out of the bar.
âDude, how much family do you have at this school?â
She sighs. âJust Mai and Megumi and him. Naoya. Heâs a piece of shit.â
âClearly,â Toge says. âHe broke the M theme. No respect for the family alliteration.â Maki kicks him in the shin.
âOne last round for The Cull!â Panda calls from the stage, and your ears slowly, very gradually stop ringing with the raging new wave music. The stage techs get to work behind Panda as he introduces the next group.
âUp next, making their debut, weâve got a sophomore girl pop trio. Give it up for MOTION CAPTURE!â
Thereâs a big cheer from the bar, and you turn to see Geto grinning. Three girls take the stage, the blonde one grabbing the mic and adding, âAll caps!â The girl beside her is very obviously her twin sister, though her hair is straight and dark while the blondeâs is tugged into pigtails. Light and dark. The girl on keys has a long, black bubble braid that she pushes out of the way as she settles in to play.
The blonde plugs in her electric and calls out, âAlright, Iâm Nanako.â She tests out a chord, the sound reverberating, filling the bar all the way up to its high ceilings. âThatâs Mimiko, thatâs Remi, and weâre just here to have a good time.â
âHey,â a voice says behind you, and you jump. You turn to find Takuma holding two drinks, offering one to you.
âOh! Aw, thanks, you didnât have to do that. How much do I owe you?â
He rolls his eyes. âNothing.â
âTakumaââ
âNothing,â he reiterates. âAnyway, The Cull. Thoughts?â
You take the drink and try it while you think on your answerâitâs the same thing Nobara got you last week. How did he know?
âI didnât really understand any of the lyrics,â you admit, shrugging. âThey werenât bad. Not really my genre. Do you know them?â
Takuma shakes his head. âI had a gen ed once with that Rin kid, but I donât know the other ones. These girls arenât bad, though.â Heâs rightâtheyâve launched into an Olivia Rodrigo cover thatâs actually decent. They could work on their voice control, but theyâre young and fun and having a good time and working the crowd, and thatâs what itâs all about, isnât it?
You sing along, alternating between your drink and exchanging quips with Toge and talking with Takuma. You like this new balance between your band and his, the easy camaraderie.
When the girls wrap up their set, you whoop and cheer and Kirara shamelessly watches Hakari move things off the stage, arms bare in his cut-off tank.
âYouâre subtle,â Takuma tells her, and she tugs his beanie down over his face.
âHey!â
You grab his drink before he can spill it and grin as he yanks his hat off and readjusts it. His hair is a fluffy mess underneath, and itâs kind of endearing.
When the girl pop trio is done, two guys take the stage, one in white and one in black. Theyâre clearly related, dark hair and pale skin and piercing eyes, and Panda introduces them as the Kamos. You donât know if theyâre brothers or cousins or what. But theyâre goodâthey sing a few alt rock covers, play guitar.
âDamn,â Nobara sighs, a little longingly, her gaze settling on Choso as he takes over the chorus. âTheyâreâŚâ
Beside her, Yuji wrinkles his nose. âDude. Thatâs my half-brother.â
Nobara hums noncommittally. âAnd?â
He groans, tipping his head back and staring at the exposed beams of the ceiling, run through with colored lights. âWhy does this always happen?â
Toge is taking more photos of them than is strictly necessary, considering your story is about the bar and not the band, but you let him have this. Scattered throughout the crowd are more kids with cameras, freshmen from the entry-level reporting classes with big underage stamps on the backs of their hands. Somebody mistook Toge for one of them earlier, and Maki hasnât let it go all night.
You jot down atmospheric notes on your phone, little things thatâll help set the scene for your project lede, keeping an eye on the bar as much as you can. Geto has jumped in at the bar, which he usually does when the place gets busy, and Gojo is terrorizing Utahime again.
âHowâd your interview go?â Takuma asks, nodding at your notes. It shouldnât faze you so much that he remembers what you told him about your story, but you canât help the little kick of your heart in your chest at the reminder.
âGood! Really good.â And then you catch sight of Nanami, back at the door after calling a cab for Makiâs asshat cousin. âActually, Gojo mentioned you.â
Takumaâs brows shoot up. âGojo? Why?â
Nanami has always seemed incredibly reserved, stony and silent in a way Takuma has never been. You donât want to pry, but youâre also curious about the relationship between them, how they met, what they are to each other. The journalist in you wants to know.
And then thereâs the part of you that just wants to know Takuma.
âWell, he was talking about the twins and the Fushiguros, and he kind of mentioned something about you knowing Nanami?â You try to sound casual, jerking your chin toward the door where Nanami is posted, like a tall, blond guard dog.
âOh,â he says, surprised, but he shrugs, not seeming too alarmed by the question. âYeah, Iâve known Nanami for⌠a long time. Heâs kind of a mentor. Heâs the reason I met Fushiguro in the first place, actually, âcause of him knowing Gojo.â
Youâre considering asking how exactly they did meet when the Kamos wrap up, Nobara staring up at them dreamily, and the stage clears out for the final artist.
Whatever questions you had are thrown out the window, because you know who this is. Everyone knows who this is.
Fifth-year student and resident SoundCloud rapper, Ryomen Sukuna. Or D!SH0NORED1, according to the posters.
âOh, here we go,â Megumi groans.
Despite his reputation on campus, you donât know anyone whoâs actually close to Sukuna, except Uruame. You mostly know that he deals at the skate park and that heâs clean about it.
And that his raps are truly, genuinely horrible.
He lets Panda give a stilted introduction and launches into a verse, mic too close to his mouth, making hand gestures or stepping to the beat of his backing track. His tattoos are even more stark and bold under the stage lights.
âMy blood typeâs B, your type is me, my zodiac Caprisun, it might be controversial but youâre still lookinâ at me, son!â
âOh, sweet Jesus,â Kirara mutters. âIâm gonna bleach my eardrums.â
âCaprisun?â Nobara whispers. âOh, dude.â
You might be a terrible person for thinking it, but watching this guyâs performance makes you feel infinitely better about your odds of advancing in the tournament.
His final song is a new one he introduces as Frosted Flexinâ, and Maki looks like sheâs about ready to keel over dead.
âFrosted flexinâ, I'm the cereal king, pourin' oat milk in the mix, yeah, I'm doin' my thing,â Sukuna spits in his low voice, swaggering up to the front of the stage. You are trying so hard not to lose it.
âSukuna being an oat milk truther wasnât on my bingo card,â Toge says.
âGot the swag of a squirrel and the brain of a dove, call me trash, but you're still showin' me love.â
âThoughts on the amount of swag a given squirrel possesses?â you ask Takuma. He laughs, loud and bright, and then seems to very seriously consider the question.
âI donât know if campus squirrels have swag. They live in luxury. They probably eat better than we do,â he says. You canât argue thatâyou did once see a squirrel outside your sociology class run by with a full bagel in its mouth. âThe wilderness squirrels, though, I think they got a scrappy kind of swag. Like, I wouldnât cross them.â
You nod sagely. âI want them on my team in the apocalypse.â
He nudges you with a shoulder. âAm I on your team?â
You glance at him, make a show of looking him up and down. Maybe youâre imagining it, but you think heâs blushing a little. âI donât know. How fast can you climb a tree?â
Sukuna is nearing the end of his song, now, saying, âOff-tune, out of sync, yeah, I know it's a sin, but you'll play it back twice 'cause I still might win.â
He actually, physically drops the mic and Hakari swoops in and catches it, clearing his throat and saying into it, âYep, friendly reminder that equipmentâs expensive! Everyone give our last artist of the night a hand, yeah?â
Thereâs scattered applause and more than a few confused faces as Sukuna lopes off stage, and Panda hops back up to explain the voting system for anyone who wasnât here last week. âQR codes to the Google form are posted around the bar,â he says.
Out of all eight artists, the bottom two will be eliminated. Youâre nervous. But voting was open last week too. You canât vote as a member of the band, and itâs all done through school Google accounts to avoid double votes or the link getting sent out to non-students.
âOpen until tomorrow morning,â Panda reminds the audience. âResults and second round schedules will be posted on the Instagram at some point tomorrow! Thatâs it for this Friday at The Fix. Have a great night, folks. Get home safe.â
Gojo whoops dramatically from the bar, and Panda gives him a weird look before getting off stage.
Your friends start heading toward the door, and you grab Toge and excuse yourself to catch Geto at the bar. Gojo sees you first. âThe newsies!â he calls.
âLike the musical?â you say in lieu of a greeting. âBanger soundtrack.â
âI could dance on newspapers,â Toge says.
âGeto!â The Fixâs other owner smiles at you, soft and genuine. Part of his dark hair is pulled back and the rest hangs loose over his shoulders, a stark contrast to Gojoâlike the Kamos, you think, or like Nanako and Mimiko. Light and dark. âWe were wondering if youâd be down to set up a time to talk. Has Gojo told you about our story at all?â
Geto smiles, drying a glass and leaning against the bar. âHe told me heâs gonna be the front page of every paper in the city, which I assume is a horrid exaggeration,â he says. Gojo looks affronted. âShoko mentioned youâre doing a feature for class, though. Iâd be happy to.â
âWe have our Monday night class time open for field reporting the week after this one,â Toge offers. âWill you be around?â
âI will indeed. Utahime, too, if you want to speak to both of us. And Gojo wonât be here, which might be beneficial for you.â
âSuguru,â Gojo gasps, pretending to stagger back. âYou wound me.â
âMhm,â he says, unaffected. âWhat time works best for you two?â
You set up a time to interview Geto and Utahime, then say goodbye to him and Gojo and run to catch up to your friends. Itâs a nice night, and since you didnât have to deal with instruments, you all decided to walk.
âHow goes the⌠journalisming? Journaling?â Takuma asks when you fall into step beside him.
âGood, all good. Reporting is maybe a better word, but valiant effort.â
âI like journalisming. Can you just submit words to the official dictionary? Iâm gonna do it.â
âNo,â Toge says, and you blink. He shrugs. âWhat? I tried once. But the only submission form I could find was for the Bureau of Linguistical Reality and it wasnât like, a legitimate dictionary form. Thereâs all these requirements, itâs horrible.â
âWhat word did you try to submit?â you ask warily, not sure if you actually want to know.
âSome things,â Toge says solemnly, âare better kept secret.â
The night is hazy, only small rays of moonlight piercing through the cloud cover, and you make your way through the campus roads guided only by the streetlamps and Makiâs reliable sense of direction.
Part of you wants to ask Takuma to come over, or Yuji to insist the band come over to his place again, just so you can keep talking. But you have work to do, things to write and transcribe, lists of follow-up questions to make, and thatâs only your workload for this one class. You still have exams this week, and you need to study now so you can balance it with rehearsals. Assuming you actually advanced to round two, that is.
And part of you worries you might be taking this too fast, too. You donât typically integrate people into your life so quickly. You like spending time with Takuma and Kirara and Yuji and even Megumi, though heâs pretty quiet. You just donât want to jump in too far too fast.
At your place, you say your goodbyes and head up to your room to get some work done. Toge uploads his photos and puts them in your project folder on Drive. And you spend the night doing what you do best, aside from drummingâwriting.
Youth for the young: JU alumni run safest live music bar in city limits
You donât even notice the time until itâs past one in the morning, and youâre nearly asleep at your desk. The dark has crept across your room, the only source of light the desk lamp and your laptop screen. Finally, you push the computer shut and flick off the light, flopping into your bed. A few missed messages pop up when you hold your phone up, wincing at the bright screen.
takuma:Â just letting you know i made the treacherous journey home safely takuma:Â many miles of hardship takuma:Â thought i was gonna die halfway there
You smirk and type out a reply.
you:Â did kirara have to save you takuma:Â i resent that takuma:Â (yes) takuma:Â wait why are you up itâs so late you:Â journalisming you:Â why are YOU up takuma:Â travel adrenaline takuma:Â (coding project due monday that i just started) you:Â TAKUMA
The next text to come through is a voice note, and you canât help smiling as you hit play and his voice fills the open air of your bedroom.
âOkay, in my defense, I thought it was due next Monday. Which maybe isnât my defense because it means I just canât read due dates, or maybe I just canât read, but I thought I had a lot more time and then one of my classmates texted me asking for help on this block of code and I told him I hadnât started and he was like oh my god, Ino, itâs due in three days, and I was like no itâs not, we have so much timeâturns out we donât have so much time, so Iâm over here staring at my screen until the vessels in my eyes popââ
He yawns, and it makes you yawn too, despite the screen separating you. âSorry, agh. Anyway, I have to write this program that uses some kind of randomized generatorâŚâ
You find your eyelids fighting gravity, exhaustion washing over you as he explains the project and all the reasons heâs not that worried about getting it done by Monday because actually heâs on a roll and it turns out the code isnât that different from a similar project he did last year so he can just lift the main blocks over and wow, heâs tired, and you stifle a laugh as the voice memo comes to an end and he says, âOkay, gosh, I should go to bed. You should go to bed. Stop journalisming, Skip, get some sleep. Gânight.â
You grin, plugging your phone in and sending him a voice memo of your own.
âIâm done journalisming. Still havenât written that story on you, though. Night, Takuma.â
The last thing you see before you fall asleep is his reaction to your text. Itâs a thumbs up, but after a few seconds, it disappears, replaced with a heart.
â
âIâm gonna die,â Nobara groans.
Youâve been checking Instagram every hour on the hour for the bracket results, but to no avail. The five of you are sprawled out in the living room, a Fleetwood Mac record spinning in the corner, cups of coffee and tea and scattered remnants of breakfast dotting the table and the floor and the windowsill.
You have post notifications on for the Battle of the Bands Instagram page, but you check anyway, as if you somehow missed it.
âOkay,â Maki says. âCut it out. No phones.â
âMaki,â Toge groans. âHow do we live with the suspense?â
âGo around and give a rundown of your week?â Yuta suggests.
âAw, highs and lows, itâs like elementary school,â Nobara says happily. âIâll go first! High: annoying slacker guy in my marketing class got a shit grade on the group project and the rest of us got As. Low: Skipper wonât give me Ino lore.â
âLore,â you mimic. âI donât have any lore. Weâve known each other for like, two weeks.â
âThatâs enough time for lore,â she insists. âWhatâs your high? Ino?â
âOkay, jeez,â you say. âMaybe itâs that Toge and I had a really good first interview for our project story.â
Toge blinks at you.
âFine, maybe itâs Takuma.â
Nobara grins in a way you can only describe as malicious. âOkay,â you say, pointing at her. âLow: whatever that is.â She sticks her tongue out at you.
âMy low is Skipper bullying me in class,â Toge says. âAnd my high is she said sheâd be my partner, so Iâm not gonna fail.â
Yuta nods sagely. âMaki?â
âUhh,â she says eloquently. âMy parents wonât stop pestering me about fall break. But I aced a test on Thursday in anthro, so thereâs that.â
âYouâre not going home, right?â you ask. She shakes her head resolutely. Maki doesnât go home unless she absolutely has toâone thing she and Mai actually have in common.
All of your phones go off at once, a mix of buzzes and beeps and Apple watchfaces lighting up, and Nobara screams. âI canât look!â she cries. âSomeone tell me!â
You click on the notification and pull up the post, heart racing.
The first slide is a generic Battle of the Bands announcement with the cool ass graphics youâve been seeing on the posters. Whoever designs those needs a raise. The second image is the bracket for next Friday, with the first knockout round of threeâonly one group will move on to the finals. âWho is it?â Nobara asks anxiously, pacing the room. âOh god, Iâm gonna die.â
âShibuya Incident,â you read off, unable to keep the smile from your face. âAngel.â Nobara groans overdramatically. âAnd the Kamos.â
You swipe to the next screen, heart in your throat. OCTOBER 18, it reads. THE CULL. CURSED TECHNIQUE. BLACK FLASH.
âOh my god!â you scream. âOh my god, we made it!â
Toge yanks you to your feet and starts hopping around the living room, and Nobara shrieks with joy as you pull her into the celebration. Even Maki and Yuta are sporting wide smiles as they watch the three of you bounce around like kids on a sugar rush.
âWhat, no Sukuna?â Maki teases when youâve calmed down. Toge clears his throat and does his best impression, going as far as to make his pants sag a little around his waist.
âFrosted flexinâ, Iâm the cereal king, pourinâ⌠uh, duh nuh nuh, something doinâ my thing,â he says in a deep voice. âUh⌠squirrel? Somethinâ fuego, thatâs Spanish, uhhhâŚâ
âOh my god, let me look it up,â Nobara cackles, pulling up SoundCloud. âItâs Iâm the king of bad decisions, got a throne made of Legos, took a bite of my mic and said these bars are fuego.â
Yuta physically winces. âDoes he really sag his pants like that?â
Toge shrugs. âIt felt right in the moment.â
âWait, whoâs the other one eliminated, then?â you ask, running through the bands in your head. Yours, Takumaâs, Black Flash, the KamosâŚ
âMotion Capture,â Maki says.
âNo, itâs all caps. You have to shout it. MOTION CAPTURE!â Toge hollers. Nobara snorts.
You arenât entirely surprised, but you have a feeling the girls arenât too put out about it. Theyâre young, tooâtheyâll have their time to shine eventually.
You grin, flopping back onto the couch. âOkay, rehearsal when? Tonight?â
âYeah, I have to go to a friendâs to figure some stuff out for a project, but Iâll be back at like⌠five?â Yuta says.
âOh, fuck, I gotta go too!â Nobara says, darting toward the stairs.
âGroup project?â Maki asks.
âShopping! I gotta pick Miwa up in like, ten minutes!â
Maki rolls her eyes fondly. Yuta stands up and grabs his bag, heading toward the entryway, and the rest of you gravitate instinctually to the kitchen. Nobara is out the door moments later with a wave and a shout, and Toge grins.
âWhat,â Maki deadpans, not a question.
âI printed memes to hide on her Polaroid wall. Be right back.â
You snort, turning your attention to the window to watch Nobara cruise down the block. The view of her sleek, small car is interrupted by Yutaâs jungle of plants.
âI hope theyâre not too cold,â he says, frowning as he tugs a jacket on over his white hoodie. âDo they look okay to you?â
âYeah,â you say, pointing to the one in the white, ovular pot. âEspecially this one, itâs getting so big! Whatâs his name, Snorlax?â Yuta had a phase where he named at least six plants in a row after Pokèmon.
âNo, that oneâs Rika, after that TV show,â Maki corrects, not looking up. Yuta blinks, looks between her and the plant, whose vines have started to creep up the window. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Both of your eyes on her have her looking up from her phone, expression flat and unaffected. âWhat?â
âYeah,â he says slowly. âI didnât know⌠anyone paid attention.â
Maki shrugs. âYou talk to them out loud.â
âYeah, I guess I do.â Yuta laughs and waves one last time before he walks out, closing the door behind him. You count to five in your head and then whirl on Maki, entirely unable to keep the shit-eating grin off your face.
âKowalski, status report.â
She blinks at you. âWhat?â
âI saidââ
âNo, I know, justâon what? What happened?â
You groan, dragging the heels of your hands down your face. âMaki. Please.â You gesture wildly between her and the door, wondering if sheâs genuinely this oblivious or if sheâs just as good a liar as Mai. âAre youâdid we not just witness the same interaction? Jesus, Maki, put the boy out of his misery!â
Seeing Maki frazzled is not a common occurrence. The most agitated you ever see her is talking about her family or trading passive aggressive jabs with Mai. This is an entirely new sort of disarrayâsheâs flustered.
âIâwhat?! I canât do that! And heâs not miserable. Heâs that nice to everyone.â
You groan, burying your face in your hands with your elbows on the counter. âMaki! He likes you. And your face is telling me you like him back.â
She scoffs, turning her head down and crossing her arms defensively. âIâm not messing things up by dating my bandmate. We live together, Skip, heâs my best friend, if things got messyââ
You hold up a hand. âFirst of all, offensive. Iâm your best friend. Second of all, I hear no denial. Also, it wonât get messy. You are the two most mature people in this house and you know how to separate personal from practical. If anything, itâs gonna kill the vibes of the band and the house if you just keep stewing in the sexual tension.â
âOh my god,â Maki groans. âThere. Is. No. Sexual. Tension.â
âThereâs always sexual tension,â Toge announces, walking in and jumping up onto the countertop, legs swinging. He looks between the two of you innocently. âWhat are we talking about?â
âYou might be of some help, actually,â you say, turning to Toge with your hands clasped.
âUh, actually? Not oh, Toge, youâre always so helpful, thank god you live with me and keep my life interestingââ
âNevermind.â
âNo, pleeease,â Toge insists, sticking out his lower lip. âWhat?â His gaze shifts to Maki, whoâs blushing a furious red. His mouth turns into a small O. âThis is about Yuta?â
You didnât think she could get any more scarlet, but here she is.
âDoes everyone think that?â she groans, throwing her head back in exasperation.
Toge shrugs. âI thought we were all just quietly skirting around it until you both snapped.â
âNobara doesnât skirt around anything,â Maki says.
âWell, thereâs no way she doesnât know,â you point out. âMaybe she just respects both of you enough to leave it alone.â
âHah!â Toge snorts, poking you in the ribs. âThat means she doesnât respect you. She wants the Ino lore.â
âIâm gonna tell Nobara about the memes.â
âYou wouldnât dare.â
Abruptly, you realize you never got around to Yuta for highs and lows, what with the chaos of the brackets dropping. âAh, guys,â you say. âWe missed Yuta.â You pull up the house group chat.
you:Â YUTA DROP YOUR HIGH AND LOW IN THE CHAT you:Â YOU ARE NOT FORGOTTEN freak no. 1:Â yes you are utah:Â haha aw thatâs nice utah disliked a message from freak no. 1 utah:Â uhh low is maybe that toge keeps leaving memes all over our room. like i keep finding them tucked in my notebooks and everything freak no. 1:Â SLANDER freak no. 1:Â LIBEL you:Â not the same thing freak no. 1:Â SHUT UP utah:Â high is someone remembers the names of my plants!! :) nobara:Â Sorry, using voice text while I drive. Who knows the names of your plants? You and God? utah:Â maki! :)
âOkay, well, respond,â Toge says, poking Maki in the side. She glares at him and likes Yutaâs message.
âGuys,â she says exasperatedly. âWhat the hell am I supposed to do? Does he know?â
And youâre not sure, honestly. You donât know that Yuta is even aware of his own feelings, let alone aware that Maki reciprocates them. You shrug helplessly. âHow about⌠ask?â
âJesus,â Maki says.
âNot him, Yuta.â
Maki socks Toge in the shoulder and levels him with a disdainful look. âYou are the bane of my existence.â
âAnd the object of all your desires,â Toge proclaims in a horrendous Bridgerton accent. He made you watch all of it with him in two days. Maki refused.
Now, she just shoves him, and he squeals as he falls off the kitchen counter.
âChildren,â you sigh. âDo you need to be separated?â
âYes!â
â
âWhy is this so hard?â You stand with your feet planted on Takumaâs skateboard, which is confoundingly, entirely different than balancing atop your longboard. âOh my god.â You lurch forward as the board rolls a bit to the left, unable to stifle the squeal that comes out of your mouth.
Takuma stops it with one foot.
âYour center of balance is lower on a longboard,â he laughs. âLike, here.â His hands wrap around your waist and you tense under his grip, and he immediately freezes, jerking his arms back. âIâm so sorry, I didnâtââ
âNo! No, itâs okay,â you blurt, sheepish. âI just wasnât expecting it, Iâhere.â You try to fight the blush furiously rising in your cheeks as you take his wrists in both hands, putting them back where they were. You clear your throat, suddenly too warm. âUm. Okay, soâdo you turn the same way?â
âPretty much. You just lean,â Takuma says, and you shift your weight to your heels, letting him steady you. âItâs a bit harsher than you would on a longboard, though. Unless you want me to send you right into kickturns?â His tone is teasing and you pretend to consider, tapping a finger against your chin.
âMm. Maybe later.â
Youâve been at the skate park for a while now, and youâve only recently ditched your longboard for the skateboard. Takuma brought the extra board you saw hanging on his wall the other day, and he uses it to demonstrate while you practice riding back and forth, getting a hold on your balance. After you feel like you can make it a good distance without pinwheeling your arms, you come to a staggered stop beside him.
A flash of blue-green hair grabs your attention, and you watch a kid in a lightning bolt hoodie slip under the ramps. The park has been pretty deserted today aside from a few guys doing tricks in the pit, a chilly Sunday with the sunlight muted by the clouds.
âOoh, drug deal in action.â You poke Takuma in the side.
âAh, probably Sukuna. He deals here all the time.â Sukunaâs business is one of those things everyoneâs aware of but nobody talks about. Heâs consistent and pretty safe, as far as drug dealers go, but heâll deny any involvement while smoking a joint if he has to.
âWhoâs space buns?â
âUhhâŚâ Takuma narrows his eyes, and the guy slips out again. âDamn, that was fast. Oh, thatâs Hajime. Another senior, I think. They hate each other. Fastest deals Iâve ever seen.â
âI wonder how much of his songwriting is just⌠while heâs really, really high,â you muse. Swag of a squirrel doesnât strike you as a particularly levelheaded thought, but hey, itâs certainly memorable.
Takuma leans in and says conspiratorially, âIâm pretty sure I heard him dropping bars here the other day when I was with Yuji.â
You snort and look up at one of the smallest ramps, one you think you could handle without falling on your face, and point to it with a raised brow.
âOh, moving up in the world?â Takuma kicks his board up and starts walking over, and you do the same. Before you put the board down at the top of the ramp, though, you hold it up to the light, noticing a few short, white hairs caught on the surface.
âIs this⌠fur?â Maybe there was a cat hiding out somewhere when you were over. Kirara seems like sheâd have a cat.
Takuma sighs. âYeah, the dogs shed like crazy. It gets everywhere. I donât think I even left that on the ground.â
Your jaw drops, and you stare at him until he looks back at you. âDogs?â
âWhat? Yeah, Fushiguroâsââ
âFushiguro has dogs? Dogs plural? In the house?â
âYou didnât know?â
âNo!â you cry. âWhat? Oh my god! Where were they on Wednesday? How many? What are their names?â
Takuma leans back on the rail next to the ramp, grinning. âI canât believe you didnât know. Oh my god. Theyâre so cute. Tsumiki had them Wednesday, I think. Mandated auntie time. Do you wanna meet âem?â
âDo I want to meet them?â you repeat, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet. âUh, yeah. Are they home? Oh my god. I love dogs.â
âI couldnât tell,â he deadpans, but heâs smiling still. âYeah, theyâre home. And you can meet them if you go down this ramp without dying.â
âYouâre cruel,â you say, situating yourself on the board. âBut I will. And then Iâll meet the dogs and become their best friend and theyâll love me more than you and Megumi combined.â
âConfident.â He comes up beside you, checking your stance. The ramp didnât look steep or long at all from your vantage point across the park, but now that youâre atop the board, it feels suddenly very steep and very long. âYou got it. Just donât panic, keep your stance.â He drops his own board and cruises down the ramp, hardly even trying.
âOkay, go!â he calls from the bottom. âCâmon, Skip, the dogs are waiting.â
âOh, god,â you murmur, the wind catching your words and whisking them away. You ball your hands into fists and push off, planting your foot back on the board and trying to keep your knees bent, but not too stiff, as you careen down the ramp. Donât panic, keep your stance. Youâre at the bottom in what feels like nanoseconds, and the sudden shift from ramp to flat ground has you stumbling off the board with an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak of alarm.
âNice!â Takuma laughs as he catches you, the board rolling a few more feet ahead. His arm is wrapped around your front, the other holding you up by the shoulder, and this time you donât tense under his hands.
âThanks,â you say a little breathlessly, grinning, the tiny spike of adrenaline making you almost lightheaded. He lets his hands drop when youâre steady on your feet, and part of you mourns the warmth a little. But there are more pressing matters at hand. âSo, about those dogs?â
You opt for your longboard on the way back down your street, cruising along beside Takuma, who has his extra board tucked under his arm. Youâve got a lot to do tonight, all the last-minute preparation for another crazy week, but you can and will drop everything to pet a puppy. Or two. Always.
And theyâre actual angels. Big, fluffy angels on earth, one white and one black, and theyâre all over you the second you open the door.
âHi!â you say happily, sinking down to their level. The white one immediately tries to burrow into your lap. âOh, hello! Youâre so nice, arenât you?â You glance up at Takuma. âWhereâs Megumi?â You grab the white oneâs collar and check the tagâShiro.
âShiro thinks sheâs a tiny dog,â he says, bending down to ruffle the fur behind her ears. âUh, Fushiguroâs at the animal clinic. He works there Sundays. And Tuesdays, I think.â
âWait, really?â
âYeah, heâs a vet student. You didnât know?â
âI did not.â The black one is licking your face, and you giggle and check his tag, too. Kuro. âHi, Kuro. Youâre a good boy, arenât you?â
âHeâs got such a soft spot for animals,â Takuma says as he kicks off his shoes. âYou should see when they both try to sleep in his little twin bed. Itâs ridiculous.â
âI love them,â you say, burying your face in Kuroâs scruff. âHi, doggies. Youâre awful cute, you know that? Mhm. Yes you are.â
When you finally look up again, Kuroâs cold nose nudging insistently at your palm, Takuma is leaning against the wall, looking down at you with his phone discreetly angled your way. ��Takuma!â
He laughs, not bothering to hide it anymore, very clearly taking photos of you with the dogs. âItâs cute!â he insists. âIâll send them to you. Proof for Fushiguro of your master plan to make them like you more than him.â
âAnd you,â you remind him.
âWell, I donât know about that.â
You gesture pointedly to the two dogs, who are all over you and not him. Itâll be a nightmare trying to get all of Shiroâs white fur off your black jacket later, but itâs worth it.
âYouâre new,â he says. âNew scent. Itâs the novelty factor. I am their favorite.â
âYou sure? Iâm pretty hard to compete with.â
He smiles, looking from you to the photos he took of you and the dogs. âYeah,â he says. âYou are.â
â
The first half of the new week goes by in a rushed routine of classes, homework, and rehearsals, each night ending with you collapsing into bed, new and old lyrics fighting for dominance in the back of your mind. Sticks re-taped and drum heads re-tuned, assignments turned in and drafts edited. Your classes are ramping up as midterms approach, and Yuta bounces between his own work and poking his head into everyoneâs rooms, making sure they donât forget about dinner.
Toge follows through on his snack run promise, and the two of you spend hours on Tuesday afternoon trading two different flavored bags of Doritos back and forth, Toge writing photo captions while you edit your story lede.
Takuma, Hakari, and Kirara have offered to help Cursed Technique record a single on Wednesday night, and the five of you have been drilling the new song you wrote up, down, and sideways.
Finally, Wednesday arrives, and youâre all crammed into the recording studio space, instruments set up and headsets tuned in.
âYeah, Iâm good,â Nobara says to Hakari on the other side of the glass. She taps a finger on the mic in demonstration, and you hear it in your own headphones.
âGreat,â he says. âSkipper?â
âSkipper? I hardly know her,â Toge says, earning a harmless smack upside the head from Yuta and a not harmless smack upside the head from Maki.
âI will throw these at you,â you tell him, holding up your sticks. Toge sticks his bottom lip out, pouting.
A snicker from beside you draws your attention back to Takuma, kneeling just beside the throne as he adjusts the kick mic. He has you hit it a few times while Hakari monitors the levels. You feel oddly self-conscious like this, him looking up at you, but then he smiles and itâs not strange at all. Itâs stupid how fast he can put you at ease with a look.
âNice,â he says. âOkay, that should work, yeah, Hakari?â
Itâs Kirara who answers, âYeah, youâre good.â
Takuma stands up, claps his hands together once, and looks at you. âOkay. Kill it, Skip.â
âYessir.â You salute him with a stick and he makes his way to the other room, closing the door behind him.
âAll good?â Yuta asks, glancing at each of you in turn before giving Hakari a thumbs up. Itâs strange to be on this side of the glass, to think about your music being played back, to think about it on Spotify, out in the world.
âNext Fix,â Takuma says into the mic, locking eyes with you through the window. âTake one in three, twoâŚâ
The song starts out simple. You click your sticks together near the mic, on two and four, while Maki lays down a four-bar loop.
Yuta keeps glancing at Maki while she plays, utterly unaware, and the look on his face is so soft you want to shake Maki by the shoulders until she does something about it.
Nobaraâs got her eyes closed with the headset over her ears and her hands around the mic, entirely engrossed in the song.
âItâs cominâ on, cominâ strong, spinninâ up out of the blue, mmm,â she sings, stretching out the vowels. âAnd Iâm on the ground, bleedinâ out, until my next fix of you, ooh.â
Now you start up with a light rock beat, closed hat and a bit of a dragging buzz on the snare hits. Just as you transition into the beat, Toge comes in with some low chords and Yuta moves down the line in syncopated sixteenths.
Hakari is nodding approvingly and Takuma has a wide grin on his face, and you canât help smiling back.
âI need it like a lung,â Nobara sings, swaying a bit. âI need it like a light. Itâs got me twisted up. I need you here tonight, tonight, tonight, oh, oh, I wannaââ
And this part is your favoriteâNobara sings each two-syllable phrase while you pound on the toms twice, emphasizing it with the kick, and then the backup vocals echo her. Get my (get my) next fix (next fix) of you (of you, of you, of you.)
Kirara pumps her fist in the air twice, in time with the beat, and your bandmates canât keep the smiles off their faces. Youâve got something here, you really do. This might be your best one yet.
When the songâs over, Nobara whoops and tugs off the headphones, jumping around the cramped studio space with a grin on her face. âThat was so cool! Oh my god. Guys, we sound good. We actually sound good.â
âDamn,â Kirara calls. âOkay, girl drummer. Good shit.â
âNot bad for a first run,â Maki admits, adjusting her bass strap over her shoulder. âDo we wanna try recording backups separately at all?â
âGood call.â Takuma nods. âLetâs run that again without the backups and record them over, see what happens.â Heâs in full producer mode, flipping switches, colored lights reflecting in his eyes as he and Hakari talk shop away from the mic. Heâs good at this, you realize, running sessions like this, making sure things go where they need to go, that everyoneâs heard, that things get done. Itâs a little bit like watching him skateboard, or seeing him on stage. Thereâs a confidence to him here, a smooth, easy energy. Heâs in his element.
âAlright,â he says after a minute. âLetâs hear that again.â
And you play it again. And again. And again. And you are so in love with this moment, with your band, with a couple rowdy kids on the other side of the window, the rasp in Nobaraâs voice and the expression on Yutaâs face and Makiâs obliviousness and Togeâs consistent, head-banging keys, and your drums and your words and the music, and the lyrics feel right to you.
You need this like a lung.
directory | prev. |
jjk taglist open: just send me a message!
@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro @bisforbuse @risararelywrites @idkidk32
a/n: GUYS. loml @shutuppeter is so downbad for soundcloud rapper sukuna that she's writing fanfic of my fanficđ credits for frosted flexin' are all hers LMFAO so go check that out (MDNI for that one though).
yutamaki nation rise. also, i kinda love this fic. there may be spinoffs for other characters in the works...
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#takuma ino x reader#jjk ino#ino takuma#takuma ino#ino x reader#megumi fushiguro#yuji itadori#yuta okkotsu#nobara kugisaki#kento nanami#toge inumaki#gojo satoru#scry writes#jjk au#college au#band au#kirara hoshi#suguru geto#ieiri shoko#ryomen sukuna#choso kamo#noritoshi kamo#maki zenin#kasumi miwa#aoi todo#mechamaru#mai zenin#yutamaki
64 notes
¡
View notes
Text
sometimes i like to think that horror comes to dust's room late at night just to talk to phantom papyrus. no he doesn't wanna talk to dust. horror probably doesn't even CARE if dust's awake at the asscrack of dawn or rambling off to the hallucination too loudly this late at night because he just wants to talk to phantom papyrus
horror's not delusional enough to believe that phantom paps is actually real and his own papyrus like dust does but sometimes he really wants to,,,, so just for these short moments between them he wants to pretend that the hallucination is his papyrus. that he gets to talk to his own brother before everything went to shit and before he ruined his brother's life. yeah sure phantom paps kinda says some crazy stuff that horror's papyrus never would back then but so what?? dust's papyrus is the closest thing he's got and at least he doesn't have to deal with the guilt at even LOOKING at his brother's face (the sunken eyesockets,,,, the uneven teeth,,,,, yeah no) because there's nothing there. horror doesn't have to do anything but keep his back turned to dust and just talk to papyrus through him
they both keep their backs turned to eachother when they do this because neither of them can stand looking at eachother. dust especially because hearing horror sound so much like how he was before. horror sounds so lighthearted and relaxed and just,,,,, normal that it almost reminds dust of himself. maybe if he closed his eyes and tuned out his own voice he could just imagine the moment being a conversation between himself and paps back then before he had to kill him over and over. dust doesn't want to have to look back and see horror's mutilated skull and his permanently replaced eye. he doesn't want the fake scenario he's choosing to indulge in right now to be broken
and then i think they talk like that for a long time; because horror has a lot to say to paps about himself and what he regrets and dust has a lot of reminiscing to do on the good old days before he lost himself :3
#this one is a bit more SERIOUS than i expected.... no funny little triglycercule rambling today for some reason.......#i do really like this idea though. it seems like one of the only ways that horrordust would bond in a more canonical sense#no they don't fall asleep in bed with eachother after this. in fact horror doesn't even say BYE when he leaves#they just move on with their lives afterwards and pretend none of it happened#and when they need it most then they can drop their guards ever so slightly at 2:30 in the morning through a fake middleman#horror doesn't like being this vulnerable around dust but he knows DAMN well the other won't tell#dust has no reason to say a thing about their midnight chats. maybe he just doesn't like being vulnerable at all#and it's true that dust wouldnt tell anyone because tbh he gets to ask horror things he'd ask himself#maybe he'd lie a bit here and there about what paps said so he can ask something like do you regret it after all this time#just to see if horror feels the same way that he does even though they have different circumstances#to see if the most sans-like in his eyes of the 2(3) of them can understand what he feels and understands how it feels#horror regrets it too but he's here and he did what he did. dust almost likes that he has someone to relate to him tbh#sometimes he needs to be reminded that he should regret everything he did especially when he feels manic or just apathetic#he probably needs the reality check and if horror isn't the most grounded out of the 3 i dont know WHO is (low bar but he is arguably is)#ok time to turn this into the mtt! killer SO bashes them for these little midnight rendezvous#makes SO many remarks about how theyre really pathetic for practically roleplaying a conversation between sans and papyrus#SO many jokes about what the two probably get up to in there. so many jokes about how this is some weird kink probably#but in the end despite all the shit talking killer's never been part of one of these conversations#in fact he doesn't even go NEAR dust's room late at night due to this#he just cant he doesn't want to. because if he hears horror's voice being so lighthearted and joking#and dust saying words that sound so similar to what papyrus would say (maybe he's even imitating his voice)#it would upset him a LOT. or maybe not? either way killer avoids that area like the plague when horrordust chat#maybe he'd sit down by the outside of the door when he's FEELING. killer won't let himself believe in the delusion dust and horror have mad#but he can't stay for too long because then dust and horror start talking about regrets and their wrongdoings and now he can't listen any#but either way i trio-fied it and that's all that matters!!! this might actually be one of my FAVORITE ideas i've ever cone up with :333#killer sans#horror sans#dust sans#murder time trio#tricule hc
10 notes
¡
View notes
Text
can i delete this game now
#are you f*cking serious#you can't be#f*ck that's kinda dumb#are you sure you know all the consequence of that bungie#are you f*cking certain bungie#you sure not are you#i have a stupid amount of his idea in my old idea pool to draw#and i just came up a comic composition about him this morning#and this#you goddamn motherf*cker#oh yeah im throwing them all out#why the hell not after you do that#f*ck this#ugh#(sigh)#it's not like bungie did a bad job you know#just#why do you do this to me#im starting to regret getting into this franchise#after you just casually f*cking kill my favorite character at the peak you know#you know what#yeah#it's been a good time#i got like 940+ hours on this game#and probably 40+ hours these days alone#i have some drafts thats kinda hilarious but now its not#it's not about him i just can't even try to extrapolate anything funny out of this franchise now#if i do finish that i will still get them out but#maybe its apex time#destiny 2
16 notes
¡
View notes
Text
tagged by ko @tofumilanesa for wip wednesday! big shout out to writevember for making me feel like i can actually call any of these works in progress⌠your guide to my emoji code under the cut
wip!
đŞťđâ⏠- the doc title is still just. YOWLING but i am like 7/8 of the way done with omega yamo fic and hopefully salem isnât reading this so i can just drop it over a year later with no warning <3
đŤ2ď¸âŁ - DEWEY^2 P2!!!! she is almost done (i am lying) but she is so close i can almost taste it. sorry to my pwp that grew its own feelings baby
đđ¤ (đ -> đ) - rip iâm not telling you about this one until itâs posted but it IS complete aside from being ao3 formatted and the eight billion edits i inevitably do right before full-sending it
âď¸đ§ - cloud petey fic, which exists mostly as an embarrassingly large tag on a different blog and is condensing into a narrative about as well as water at 30° N/S. the time loop fic also falls under this description
eternally in progress (short list)
đđ - tyler borzoituzzi exists⌠there is an index of scenes/plot points⌠it plays like a movie in my headâŚ
đŻâ- fantastic! âverse
đď¸đť - stevie brandon seeing ghosts au, which has eight different (now nine i guess but you haven't seen the mustache adam post yet) plots. sorry
just. rotating like a microwave
đ - because they didnât have a pomegranate emoji, this is what i used for the fic that feels like it should be a 50k connor bedard character study hanif abdurraqib/cathal kelly thesis about legends and mythmaking in sports and eating your young. yes i know pomegranates arenât actually pomes and apples are but itâs fine
đŚ - the one cat da fuck they doing over there meme but about the sharks just like. in general. more on this at five
tagging @colap1nto, @songsandswords, @whitenikes, @gordiemeow, @acheronist, and anybody else who wants to share!!
#i regret to inform the public (beloved mutuals who read my tags) that we have hit the doldrums re: creativity.#got SO excited because i had no prep for tomorrow and got out unreasonably early and proceeded to do nothing 𤊠zero motivation/inspiration#anyway. being a big baby. have looked at dewey^2 for too long and now hate it which makes me sad because i was on SUCH a roll solving plot#and really i just need to pick something else from my (looks at smudged hand) 10000 other documents but none of them are calling my nameeee#maybe iâll ao3 format đ -> đ or maybe iâll read wandering stars (did finish a book this morning) and then hope something strikes me#preferably very aggressively like with the force of a train? OHHHHHH YOU GUYS MAYBE I COULD MAKE SOMETHING FOR HOLY JUMPING MACKEREL FEST#because you know what DID hit me upside the head like a 2x world champ coming from behind with the steel chair WAS BERGY & JOE GUESS WHO#joey first of all did not deserve to lose those games and second of all i am SO immensely delighted i donât know if itâs on here yet i am#so sure at least one of my beloved drw moots (beth and nik are likely culprits but all of u would) has it on here yet BUT THEREâS SO MUCH#BERGY VERY BLATANTLY CALLING JOE A NERD BC HE KNOWS ALL ABT HIS TEAMMATES &LOVES THEM!! BERGY NOT KNOWING A SINGLE FUCKIN THING ABT ANYONE!#the absolute unsurprised yet still heartbroken disbelief & disappointment of joe saying âhe uses black tape!â oh thatâs rent-free forever#anyway.#liv in the replies#p.s. it's fic friday now don't worry about how late i am#as always ask away ask about anything in post tags y'all know i love to yap u are always welcome in the inbox or dms#i was trying to be slightly less mysterious about all of these but i am a secret-keeper sorry and also you need to live inside my brain#in order to understand half of what i'm referencing sometimes. sorry.#also there are some un-hockey fic projects i want to do but i have. so little time in my life for anything sometimes that we will make do
10 notes
¡
View notes
Text
okay that's the last birthday message. please no more. lol. thank you for being nice, blanket thank you to everyone who is thinking about saying happy birthday to me, or who thought about it and forgot but i am about to have some chamomile tea and then proceed to become as unconscious as is humanly possible. LMAO.
#guy i'm talking to on a dating app asked what's wrong cause i said i had a long day/shit birthday#like buddy i'm gonna be honest you picked the wrong day to ask me this#because i have been an emotional wreck going on seven hours now#and i was like âi can tell you but things are gonna get really bleak and honest really quickly so your choiceâ#and he was like âi would say yes if you thought it would help but i'm about to fall asleepâ#like oh don't worry it's cool! i will 100% regret saying that in the morning! or maybe i won't#life is very fucking bizarre right now so who knows! l o fucking l#anyways. chamomile tea and then near immediate unconsciousness for my own fucking sanity
11 notes
¡
View notes
Text
i need a new strategy for like, cleaning my room and doing yoga and reading and leaving the house. the adhd has reached mythic levels of bad. i have the thought, "i should do X," and then i won't move. i make a to-do list and i won't do anything on it. i queue up a yoga practice and i won't do it. i stare at my room and get stressed out about how cluttered it is. i write 3000 words of notes for a fic i don't even know if i'm going to write. i think and i think and i think about my OCs and they won't let me write them. i spend hours looking at stuff i can't buy. i take like an hour to write this.
#rum.txt#i have to do something about my phone...........#i might be able to uninstall tumblr#i can't uninstall twitter because the stupid fucking thing turns off notifications when you do#so i wouldn't be able to catch up on the accs i have notifs on for#(a very small list of forcebook- and kaibaek-related accs)#i can't uninstall instagram because of forcebook again lol#i also use it for recipes sigh#but i might start just... leaving it in my room when i get up and see how that goes#i'd also have to try to not look at my phone first thing in the morning#i also have to start actually getting up in the morning#i think that's the main thing#ok maybe when i take my medication in the evening i start getting ready for bed#it'll take long enough that it'll probably still be late but reasonable late#and not like. almost 3 am like now#one of the problems with my room right now is that i have a lot of STUFF#and i'm afraid of getting rid of the STUFF#because the last time i got rid of a bunch of STUFF#(mostly clothes)#i totally regretted most of it and i'm still like ah shit i don't have that anymore? :(#but also i have a big bed that i just want OUT of there#and a huge wardrobe that unfortunately holds a lot of the STUFF#so i don't know where all the STUFF would go#and every job i apply to sucks#and every job i actually want is TERRIFYING in both its unattainability and the miniscule possibility of its improbable successful executio#so i'm like stressed out about a thing that hasn't happened to make something that hasn't happened that i'm also stressed out about#every possible scenario whether i want it or not feels like it could lead to a meltdown because everything is so god damn hard right now#AND I FEEL SO!!!!!! SMALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#and the worst part is that i know all this is because my stupid fucking period is coming up#but just because my hormones are making me feel overwhelmed and melodramatic about everything doesn't make anything i've said untrue
10 notes
¡
View notes
Text
diana daughter of apollo brainrot part i
i spent like an hour and a half on this, i may provide context tomorrow, ive got lectures first thing in the morning and my brain wouldnt let me be till i drew this, with my fingers, on my notes app, on my phone, at one am. bon apetite
nooooooooo u cant see her freckles! dangit the quality isnt great but such is life ig
also we are going to ignore the fact that her hair is even and pretty in the side profiles but really shabby in the other one mkay? thank yew. pun intended (i hate myself too lmao)
#yall i cant draw properly with pencil and paper#isnt it amazing what the brain can accomplish when under the influence of a shit ton amount of serotonin & motivation#im going to regret my life decisions in the morning#good night#hilal#hilal khalil#diana#daughter of apollo#my beloved#she looks like iphigenia lol#children of apollo#my art#my artwork#nvm u can see her freckles if u stare at ur screen long enough to burn ur retinas (or maybe thats just me)#its too early for this#look at her bandana its so cute#for conveniences sake#shes diana olive now#diana olive#why i cant i study with this enthusiasm XD
8 notes
¡
View notes
Text
OH MY GOD A YEAR AGO TODAY .
#thats literally insane what do you mean that crazy day was last year. oh boy ok hastily thought up recap thought time#what that day included:#stupidly going out into july in los angeles heat that morning in jeans and a long sleeve black shirt#in that state of extreme sweatiness: meeting john l of tmbg fame. who id be seeing in concert that exact night#an insane story i have told before but nonetheless incredibly bonkers#later that day when i went out again i (also stupidly) wore sandals that cut up the back of my heels#i toughed it out later and put socks on and the russell brand of cdg high tops on and danced at the concert anyway#wore a full gold glitter suit. was still worried about being unnoticeable#i was too scareddddddd to talk to christi who i saw hanging around before the show which i regret#the best part of the concert and that trip to california was seeing it with my best friend who i finally met in person for that trip#he was dressed as ron and i of course was russ in the glitter suit. my hair did not turn out as magically russ as desired#what else. i was too ough before the concert to eat my combination lunch dinner of panda express something#but i did get overpriced fancy crackers and rosĂŠ at the hbowl which was my sparks dinner#ok now let me get to the show itself. i did a review the night of but lets see if there are any details i forgot that i can remember now#like right at the beginning of so may we start there was the audible sound of a glass breaking so awesome. someone was ready to get down#russell getting choked up talking abt their mom taking them to the hollywood bowl as kids i haven't stopped crying#oh yeah all the stupid people in the pool circle (front seats) who didn't care about seeing sparks. youre all going to hell#especially the people that left before the show ended#russell achieved some maximum awooga levels but i may have been picking up on those especially because of the rosĂŠ#russell saying to the audience in between singing all that how beautiful it looked with everyone turning the light on their phones#another thing i havent stopped crying over#also got a fun bootleg shirt specific to that show when walking back to the hotel. thank you slightly sketchy guy#that whole night and everything was bonkers insane and wonderful can i Please relive it now. please#like literally this time last year adjusting for time zone i was uhhhhh. probably injuring myself in those stupid sandals#and id do it again! well maybe not but id relive that day again#ok anyway. one year huh
9 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Every day, I wish and hope that I'll wake up and be in the 1920's. Not because everything was better back then, but just because things were more alive back then. Or at least, it feels that way.
You look at some dance routines today, and there is most definitely talent on display, sure, but then you go and watch someone like Gene Kelly or especially The Nicolas Brothers dance and you're left sitting there like, "...what happened? Why don't we do this anymore?"
Music performances too. There are truly some talented people doing amazing stuff today, but it just doesn't feel as vibrant and alive as watching a big jazz band improv with each other in front of a crowd.
Singers weren't trying to sell, they were just, well, singing. There was more flexibility in vocal performance from what I can tell, and honestly this one warrants its own post.
Tap dance is considered stupid largely by non-dancers, when it's actually REALLY HARD and fully of such joy and whimsy. You're a musical instrument and dancing at the same time! What's not to love? Not to mention, the physical toll that takes on a person. Insane.
The only dance I was taught as a kid was the slow dance. If I wanted to learn anything else, my parents said no, unless it was ballet, but I was never interested in that personally. Now, I look back on things like the Charleston or the Lindy Hop and I just wanna learn how to move like that; to let go and be in the moment. I don't know how, and none of the adults in my life can tell me, either.
The movies back then were so creative and grand, considering the budget and scale they were allowed to work with. Stuff like Robin Hood or Metropolis are absolutely jaw-dropping, and yes, we could make that today, but it'd be with CGI or super realism, when a huge part of the charm came from the use of miniatures and spot-on performances and choreography.
Listen. We still have all of these today. Even tap dancing is still around, even if it's largely (wrongfully) considered silly by many. But it just doesn't feel the same. I'm not sure how to put it into words. The 1920's was where our modern times were really born, I think, with inventions like the camera, the radio, animation, jazz, ect all coming together in this decade to launch new art forms, entertainment, and way of life. They weren't called "The Roaring 20s" for nothing.
I wanna live in that so bad.
#i know i know rose tinted glasses#back then it was harder to be trans gay or anything but white but fuck man#i just wanna experience it. i want one day to just *be*#also yes i know the camera was invented in the late 1800s shut up#also it wasnt einstein he stole it from a frenchman and i can prove it#i cant but it's pretty hard to deny#fuck einstein btw gfhjsadk#idk if its just the cartoon character in me or what but the '20s really feel like... home. i guess that's a good word for it#it's 3:30 am maybe i just need to go to bed and i'll regret this post in the morning but right now i dont even care#dimond speaks
9 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Thoughts on Focalors and Focalors only (okay maybe I lied, about Furina and Neuvillette too). Uhh spoilers for absolutely all Fontaine Archon quests because is 3 am and I don't want to search which one is each.
Not proofread.
Focalors being the archon of justice because it is only rightful to give back usurped power, even if that means losing one's own life.
Because if we look at the problem in a pragmatic way, which Focalors was (that was why she divided Divinity and Humanity) using usurped power for generations only creates resentment (Apep) and resentment will only create conflicts. And we all know how conflicts end. With innocent people perishing and the powerful not. And usurped power is not fully yours. And it has drawbacks.
And Focalors knew all of this. So she created L'Oratrice. She created L'Oratrice to be worshiped in her stead. Not because she didn't believe in Furina, the exact opposite, she believed that Furina would perfectly play her role: to watch humanity, learn about it and reach the apex of humanity's visualization of divinity.
And that made Furina famous. And with fame unfortunately comes dehumanization, but in the end it helps. Divinity = not being human. And so, she creates L'Oratrice to be the idol. And we know that Archon's powers come from worshipping (that's why like a lot of ppl think Venti is one of the most powerful archons, but I won't talk about that). Anyways. She creates the thing that would hold all of Fontaine's belief. And she will put Neuvillette just above of it.
It paints a clear picture: Neuvillette = L'Oratrice, ergo, Neuvillette = Justice, ergo, Neuvillette is to be the next head figure in case anything happened to the Hydro Archon.
Did you see what she did there? She is manipulating everyone and I think it is fantastic. Anyways.
So she knows the pieces are perfectly placed. She needs the time to collect all the belief and become powerful enough to destroy the throne. No more hydro archon. No more usurpers in power.
And she loves humans. She loves humanity, and loves Furina above all. Her idea of humanity and everything she had wanted to be.
So she decides rather quickly, truly. Because time is of the essence and her people, humanity, deserves to be allowed to live in peace and not destroyed because of her predecessor's actions, as noble as they were.
And she knows usurped power is not powerful enough to defy heavenly decrees. So she waits, she waits and waits. She makes Neuvillette like humanity (how could not he, if Fontaine's humanity before this was simply one of them?), she avoids as much conflicts as she can. She makes amends. She makes Neuvillette Iudex, the judge, the law. And she makes Neuvillette understand the concept of Justice (how could not he? He understands injustice very well. It is in his own skin, in his predecessor's. But now he has three perspectives. Now he can be called just without bias).
And she is terrified, but she decides to die. She decides to stop Celestia to protect her people. Because usurped power creates conflicts. But if the usurper is not there anymore, what conflicts can be made?
And she dies. She destoys her throne. And Neuvillette becomes the next figurehead. And Furina can finally stop faking and suffering (a necessary sacrifice, unfortunately). And everything continues without anyone being none-the-wiser. She is only remembered by the people she wanted to be remembered.
Celestia loses this one. Humanity wins this one.
Because that's how it was meant to be, too, since the very beginning.
No archonhood. No hydro usurped power.
The thing about the hydro archons, above all, is that they loved their people. One doomed their people without them knowing, because she wanted them to be happy. Another doomed herself to make sure the people she (both) loved to much would make it. Even if she had to sacrifice herself. Because that was the only rightful move to do.
Because, above all, she is the Archon of Justice who can even judge the Heavenly Principles.
And she declares them guilty.
#not gonna lie i forgot what i was writing about at the middle but well i think i ended this well#this might be my most coherent thought ever to be honest#genshin impact#vivi in a nutshell#focalors#maybe I will regret this in the morning but now?? now im going to sleep#i could do art about this essay but like. this month im dying so...
7 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Ineedtogotobedbecauseschoolbut...Bungouandalchemist
I neglect my favorite fandoms on this blog especially bungou and alchemist
Sorry bout that...
Uh
Watch the anime
It's amazing and the characters are so cool
Personally some of my favorites are Chuuya Nakahara and The talking cat the literally only select a few take seriously and I totally know it's name đ
Plot is amazing made me tear up, laugh, panic and oh boy the mood swings I had mostly because of a certain character with red hair
It's definitely an anime I would recommend to literally everyone
#bungou and alchemist#bungo and alchemist#bungou to alchemist#bungo to alchemist#watch it now#you won't regret it maybe probably#i totally forgot the character Chuuya Nakahara follows this blog-#i shalt die if they see this-#i should go to bed now lmao#school in us sucks#like why do i have to wake up at 5 in the fluffing morning#like#what the hell
10 notes
¡
View notes
Text
GOD i missed staying up until 4am reading fanfiction, the feeling it gives you, the aching love for characters who feel like your found family, so the entire world can be asleep but you're not alone, in fact you are feeling flooded with joy because you're with these characters that are safe and good and familiar, so why would you want to go to sleep and face the scary realness of the awake world tomorrow?
#me#idk maybe this is me regressing but it feels like im seeing family again that i havent been with in so long#and i missed them and the joy they bring me and the way they make me feel like everything is more than okay#this is of course with a nice fluffy fic#it was the wholesome fucking jily slytherin!lily au by thequibblah for me tonight#but yeah it's been a long long time since i've done this#and i dont feel much regret right now (ask me again in the morning)#mwpp#mwpp era#the marauders#marauders era#james potter#sirius black#remus lupin#lily evans#the babies <3#fanfiction#jily fanfiction#jily#wolfstar
70 notes
¡
View notes