𝘽𝘼𝘿 𝙃𝘼𝘽𝙄𝙏 ♡ Warabi

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i [bite my tongue], it's a bad habit  

kinda mad that i didn't take a stab at it.

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NOTES !
. This was requested by PARVAT1_MP4 .
. Late-Night Drive Home did a cover of Bad Habit,,,,,,,,,
. I got the suggestion to write something for Warabi n' my first idea was something like, Matsuri by Fuji Kaze to go with my Ikkan piece. But I wanted something rougher. So I started listening to a lot of Late-Night Drive Home tonight and wowza Andre. Um. Hello! [STUDIO RECORDING PLEASE PLEASE PLEAS]
. Warabi is taller than the reader
. Reader is implied to be an inkling/octoling (3 hearts)

 Reader is implied to be an inkling/octoling (3 hearts)

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"I WISH I KNEW YOU—

You're going to die.

—wanted me."

That's an overstatement, you think. The music is ruining your flesh, running shakes and shivers down your back.

"I wish I knew,"

You didn't bring a jacket.

"I wish I knew you wanted me."

Why is the desert so cold?

"I wish I knew,"

Someone bumps into your side and you finally start to move.

"I wish I knew you wanted me."

The music starts to hum in the back of your head, the lyrics dipping into the bass' level and becoming indistinct from the rest of the noise. You drag one foot over the other, feeling the sand sink and run from under your shoes. Some of the grains get caught in your sneakers somehow, and you find that feeling more bearable than the cold.

You don't think this was a good idea.

Of course it wasn't. Going to a concert after a nearly 8-hour shift was possibly the worst decision you could make. You liked this band enough that you were willing to see them at the end of a workday, however, you somehow failed to remember you needed a 3-hour break after every shift. You can't even properly appreciate the melody now, every strum of the guitar and chant of the crowd is reduced to mindless sound. The vocalist's cries of passion fail to reach you, just another running line the telephone operator forgot to redirect. It's like they don't even care that you're—"Warabi?"

Your eyes land on an unmistakable red across the crowd and through the lights. Metal piercings glint through the mob, a hideous ink ombré just barely visible in the dark of the desert night. The unmistakable shade of red burns into your vision and you start to push through the crowd.

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