#better when it feels wrong trope | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strangersteddierthings · 1 year

Text

Part Two of Class of '85.

June 6th, 1985

1. Make Sure Eddie Lives

Convince Wayne to move away? (how??)

Befriend Eddie sooner? (tried and failed)

Graduate Early?

2. Save Max

Stop Billy on Fourth July. Save Billy? Does he deserve it?

3. Help El With Powers. How?

Save Hopper? How to learn location of Russian prison if saved?

4. Convince Everyone To Move Out of Hawkins

That's all that's written on this slightly crumpled piece of paper.

Eddie hadn't even meant to read it; when he'd shaken out the grey sweatpants it had fluttered free, slowly falling to the ground, and when he picked it up to put it back in the drawer he caught his name. And he's always been far too curious.

Eddie knows as soon as he's read it that he absolutely shouldn't have. It's too late though. He's read it, he knows now, and he can't really unknow it.

This is the list of things Steve is trying to change in this timeline.

It knocks the air out of Eddie and his knees feel a little weak suddenly. He drops himself to the floor, one hand clutching the sweats, the other the note.

Make sure Eddie lives.

Eddie lives.

Which implies that Eddie died.

Eddie's not sure what that says about him, that he's never made the connection of Steve's soft I can't lose you confessions and that he might mean Eddie is dead, and not, like, having fled Hawkins before Steve could confess his lo-feelings or something.

He's never really taken the time to stew in what Steve meant because as far as Eddie was concerned, there was no losing him. Steve's already changed the way Eddie's life plays out; he's graduated a year sooner than he did in that other timeline. He's got a part time job at the local mechanics. And though he doesn't know details, he does know that still being in high school led him to the event Steve wanted to change.

Which was his death.

He takes several deep breaths. He's not going to die because Steve's already saved him so he can deal with this. It's not even an issue.

Moving past that. Save Max. There's no last name written, but both he and Steve know only one Max. Then the line below that. They both hate Billy, yes, but what's throwing Eddie off here is the written, then stricken out, does he deserve it? The use of save gives him pause, too. It says Make sure Eddie lives and save Max. So, Max doesn't die? What does she need saved from then?

This is when Steve finds him, entering the room with a, "Did you get lost, Eds? It's the top dra- oh," Steve is stopped two steps into the room when Eddie looks up at him.

"I didn't mean to read it but I saw my name and..." Eddie says, trailing off because he doesn't actually have anything to add. He's worried for a second that Steve will be mad at him but that thought goes as quickly as it appeared. Steve moves into the room, dropping to his knees before Eddie, hands coming to cup his face.

"Oh, babe," Steve's voice is gentle, his thumbs even more so as they swipe across his cheek. "I'm so sorry."

Eddie should be the one apologizing. He's done the one thing he wasn't suppose to. He's read the list! He knows the future! (sorta) "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have read this."

Steve makes his I-want-to-argue face but it smooths over. The tone in Steve's voice when he speaks, sounding older than his years and so fucking tired, it break Eddie's heart. "I should have burned that. This isn't your burden to shoulder. I'll just take that and you can try and forget."

He's reaching for the paper and Eddie pulls his hand behind his back, away from Steve's grasp. "No."

"No?" Steve looks surprised. Honestly, Eddie's also surprised.

"You don't have to shoulder this alone," Eddie says, "I can help. We can fix this together."

It's strange to see hope mixed with sorrow in Steve's eyes. "I can't- there's so much I don't even understand, don't even know how to explain."

"Sweetheart, let me help," Eddie whispers, shifting to his knees to easily slide into Steve's space, press soft kisses to his face between his words," I (kiss) want to (kiss) help (kiss). Let me (kiss)."

On the last kiss Steve angles his face, capturing Eddie's lips with his own, his hands still on Eddie's face allowing him to hold Eddie steady as he presses in, deepens the kiss, runs his tongue along Eddie's lip and Eddie flicks his own tongue out in return. They kiss in an odd, calm-but-desperate, deep-but-lazy, soft-but-messy way. They end it panting, foreheads pressed together to feel grounded, Steve's hands still on Eddie's face, Eddie's hands braced on Steve's thighs as he leans into him.

"Once you know, you can't unknow. It's fucking terrible, Eds," Steve whispers, "I don't want to do that to you. I don't want you to hurt."

"But you hurt," Eddie counters, "and if you hurt, I hurt. Thems the rules."

Steve laughs and kisses him again, just a quick closed lip peck, "Dustin told me once, you die, I die. Mutual destruction really shouldn't be the first go-to for showing affection for the people I care about it."

"Says the man whose favorite way to show affection is stepping between someone and a fist, or claw, or whatever."

Steve rolls his eyes and pulls back. "Weren't you going to shower?"

"Plans change. We gotta finish arguing about you telling me about this," he waves the paper, now even more crumpled, between the two of them, "so that you can let me help."

"How about you take that shower, and meanwhile, I'll cook dinner and think about finishing this 'argument' you want to have," Steve says, and even though Steve doesn't physically make the air quotes motion, Eddie still hears it in his voice.

Eddie concedes on this, though, and after stealing a soft shirt from Steve's closet, does go shower. When he's done, he takes his time detangling his hair and towel drying it as much as he can before changing into the pilfered clothing and going down to dinner. Steve is washing up the dishes he used while cooking (because this fucker cleans as he goes, what kinda sicko does that?) so, Eddie gathers plates and utensils and sets the table (because they're the kinda sickos that eat at a dinner table) .

Dinner is pork chops, mashed potatoes, and green beans. It's delicious.

They just chat about the day under the silent agreement that serious conversations were for after dinner. Eddie packages up leftovers and wipes down the counters while Steve finishes dishes and Jesus Christ when did they become so normal and adult?

Well, Steve's been an adult for a while, technically, but also, he's still just barely 18 and that's just- Eddie tries not to think about it too much, the difference between Steve's age in relation to the amount of time it's been since he was born, but also since he was forced? chosen? made to? relive 3 years of his life again.

"Alright Stevie," Eddie says, crawling into his lap on the couch, his legs bracketing Steve's, pulling Steve into him, Steve's head on his chest and his head resting atop Steve's, a mirror of their first interaction, at that party that feels so long ago and also just like yesterday, "I do have a question about your list that I feel is safe to ask and for you to answer."

"Hmm?" Steve hums back, arms wrapping around Eddie as Steve nuzzles against him.

"Befriend me got crossed out, so getting me to graduate early was the option you seemed to be going with. Obviously, befriending me ended up working. So, how in the hell did you plan to make me graduate early if we weren't friends?"

Steve snorts a laugh and says, "you're gonna laugh at me."

"Of course, I am. Tell me anyway."

"I was going to attempt doing your homework and turning it in on your behalf. I even practiced making my handwriting look different."

Eddie does laugh at him, so much that his sides start to hurt, and he would have fallen off of the couch if Steve wasn't holding him so tightly.

Then Steve has the fucking nerve to say, without the slightest hint of embarrassment, "told ya you'd laugh at me."

Well, Eddie's got no choice but to take Steve's face in his hands and kiss him senseless after that.

"Can you tell me what you mean by save Max?" Eddie asks when the kissing is done and the mood changes to serious again.

"Eds-"

"No, listen. I was thinking in the shower and like, I'm not going to get all philosophical on you, but I do think you can tell me, and we can figure out things together, maybe, and I won't interfere or do anything to, like, jeopardize the timeline. Just listen and troubleshoot."

Steve pulls back from their cuddling to eye Eddie skeptically. "I don't believe any of that for a second."

"Yeah," Eddie sighs, sagging forward to rest against Steve as he leans back against the couch now, "I just- I want to save Max, too. Let me help."

"It should have been someone else."

Eddie hears the cut off sob, presses himself down like a weight blanket, "someone else?"

"To get the second chance, the do over," Steve says, voice wet and pained, "it should have been someone else. Someone who-who remembers shit, and actually knows things. Someone smarter. I'm so afraid that I'm going to fuck this up. But then I feel like shit for wishing this was someone else's problem instead of mine."

"But it wasn't someone else," Eddie says, "it was you." Then he waits for Steve to collect himself and speak.

"The Party, they think I shouldn't tell anyone," Steve presses a kiss to the top of Eddie's head that he hears more than feels, "if I change too much, I could end up fucking up a thing that has to happen for us to win. I shouldn't tell people, or warn them, because if they make decisions based on knowledge they shouldn't have? That could get someone killed."

"So tell someone not involved. Or someone who isn't involved yet. Someone not around during the events. Then none of you are making decisions you wouldn't have already been making, but someone behind the scenes can change things. Maybe even last minute?"

That seems to give Steve pause. Eddie wants to pull back to look at him, his thinking face is adorable, but instead he shoves his face into Steve's neck and just breathes him in.

"That- I hadn't even thought of..." Steve kisses Eddie's temple, "Eddie, baby, you're a fucking genius."

"I know but it's great to have it acknowledged."

"Alright, off, I've gotta make a phone call before it gets too late," Steve says, shoving at Eddie. Eddie goes willingly, rolling a full 360 off Steve's lap so he's kneeling on the couch, elbows resting on the back of it. His eyes stay on Steve, though, tracking him as he stands, adjusts his shirt as if anyone but Eddie can see him now, before moving to the phone. It's not mounted to the wall in the living room, just sat on its own table in a corner, chair nearby.

If Eddie's gaze drifts down to Steve's butt while his back is turned, dialing whoever he's calling, well, Eddie's got no shame in that. He's allowed to look.

"Hi Hopper, it's Steve. I need you to get Dr Owens to get a hold of me. I know you have a way. No- you've got to- ok. No. Yes, this is important. Something- there is something else coming. We're not in the clear yet. No! You know I cannot tell you that. We all agreed that I wouldn't tell you anything! Hop- Hop- HOPPER. I promise, I swear on my life, El will be fine. She'll be okay. I... I just need to talk to Dr Owens. Thank you. Have him call on a Tuesday, I'm always off on Tuesdays."

Eddie listens in on the whole conversation, because if it was meant to be private, Steve would have used the kitchen phone, or the one in his room. Rich people have more than one phone, Eddie's learned. Excessive. "Sounds like it went well?"

Steve wrinkles his face in a grimace. "It's still weird as fuck. They know I'm not lying about the future thing. Not when- ever since-"

Steve can't say it again, but Eddie knows what he's talking about.

Bob Newby.

Steve blames himself hard for him. With whatever happened before Steve's time travel shit -the thing that was so bad something answered Steve's prayers and wishes to change it- Steve hadn't even been thinking about Bob. It wasn't until Steve saw Bob at the Hawkins Lab that he remembered the outcome.

He'd tried to change it, to save Bob, but in doing so he'd just endangered himself more and then Bob's death, his sacrifice, had been in protecting Steve instead of the surprise attack that had apparently been what took him last time.

Steve still can't look Joyce in the face, much less meet her eye.

Eddie hates that there's nothing he can say to alleviate this guilt from Steve. He's tried but Steve... Eddie won't even forget how his voice cracked when he said 'I knew he was going to die! I knew it, should have remembered it, but instead of someone without several concussions and memory issues getting a second chance, it's me! The fuck up! I didn't remember Bob and now, this time, it's my fault he's dead.' And Eddie didn't have the words to make it better.

Still doesn't.

"So, he's going to have the Owens dude call?"

"He's going to try," Steve says, "but can't promise. So, we'll see."

June 24th, 1985

Steve is in the bathroom when it happens. The phone rings, and Eddie's in the kitchen, so he picks it up, and says, "Harrington residence."

"Is this Steve Harrington?"

"Uh, no, but if we just wait a moment he'll be available soon."

The voice on the other end hums, "I do have a time limit to this call."

What an odd thing to say- oh. Oh shit. "Dr Owens?"

There is silence on the other end and Eddie's afraid he's fucked this up for Steve until he hears, "and just what else has Steve Harrington told you?"

Eddie's got a choice to make now. He can lie, or he can tell the truth. Both options have consequences, he thinks, but Eddie knows what he wants to outcome to be, so he moves to get line of sight on the hallway Steve should soon be appearing from and says, "Just listen, please. I don't know nearly enough but I want to help. I can help. Listen to what Steve has to tell you, and fucking believe him. If you think I can help with anything after that, call again on Saturday. Between ten and two."

"I'll listen," is the only response he gets, and they sit on the line for what feels like an eternity before Steve comes into view. Eddie shouts his name into the receiver, feeling bad about that only after Steve's taken the phone and Eddie has retreated to the backyard, both to smoke and to give Steve privacy.

Steve is on the phone for almost four full hours. Thirty minutes into the call, Eddie suggests he take the call to his room, so he can at least sit down. Steve agrees and hands the phone to Eddie, who listens for the confirmation that Steve has picked up the upstairs phone before he hangs up the downstairs one.

As much as he wants to eavesdrop, he wants Steve's trust more. Steve is trusting Owens, and if Owens decides it, he'll get ahold of Eddie. If there's nothing Eddie can do to help, then he'll just have to be here for whatever the aftermath is.

June 29th, 1985

To say that Eddie is shocked that when he answers the phone on Saturday and it's actually Dr Owens on the other line would be an understatement. He knows he offered, and he hoped, but no amount of hope makes something happen.

"Your juvenile record leaves a lot to be desired, Edward Munson," Dr Owens says in leu of any other greeting when Eddie picks up with the usual 'Harrington residence'. Eddie doesn't like that the government wasted no time digging into him. He really doesn't like that Dr Owens know his name. "I am not one to hold someone to past mistakes. You wanted to help, and reluctant though I am to admit it, there is something you can do."

"Anything."

"Alright. What you need to do is be at the Fourth of July carnival, on the lookout for Joyce Byers and Jim Hopper. They'll get there later in the day, but I don't have an exact time for you. As soon as you've found them, tell them to go to Starcourt Mall because that's where the kids are. Then you go home."

Eddie wants to know why he can't come with them to the mall but knows better than to do that. "Okay, I can do that."

"I hate to be the one to remind you, but lives are at stake here. Do what I've told you and nothing else."

"I know."

"And..." Eddie can hear the hesitation in his voice, "and just know you might not see some people you are used to seeing in the days leading up to the Fourth. Don't go looking for them."

Jesus H Christ. How is Eddie supposed to not do that? How is he supposed to be okay with people being missing? He must take too long to confirm because Dr Owens speaks again.

"Edward. I promise you, they will all make it through this."

"Okay."

Hanging up with phone feels very final. He doesn't like that Dr Owens didn't assure him of their physical safety. Didn't say they'd be okay. Or that they'd be unscathed. It was basically the nicest way the guy could have said no one you care for dies this time.

July 4th, 1985

Eddie spends all day at the damn carnival. He posts up around noon, which is probably way too early but he's not going to fuck this up. He hasn't seen Steve in two days and he's trying not to freak out. Dr Owens said they'd all live but fuck, in what condition? Eddie doesn't know what's happening, what was supposed to have happened without Dr Owens involved, and hates that he doesn't know how these changes Dr Owens are making to the timeline will effect Steve.

In the other timeline he knows that Steve lives, at least. This time...

The sky starts to darken when a Cadillac pulls up hot and going much faster than it should be, flying past Eddie's van to find parking closer to the entrance of the carnival. It could just be some drunks excited to ride a Ferris Wheel but Eddie's going to investigate.

Eddie recognizes Hopper instantly, the unfortunate side effect of being with Steve. The Chief of Police has become a common occurrence, with Steve inviting everyone over for pool parties, or them being invited to the Byer's for Barbeques.

"Hopper! Joyce!" Eddie yells, getting their attention before they've made it past the last row of cars to the entrance.

"Eddie! Thank God!" Joyce rushes to him, Hopper hot on her heels, along with two people he doesn't recognize. "Where are the kids?"

"Starcourt Mall," Eddie says, "you have to get to Starcourt Mall as soon as you can."

Hopper looks back to the Cadillac, then to Eddie's van. "Everyone in the van."

"Oh, I'm not supposed to-"

"Van. Now."

Eddie scrambles into the driver's seat, buckling up as Hopper ushers the strangers and Joyce in before pulling the doors closed behind him. "Get a move on it, kid!"

Eddie starts the van and guns it. It'll be fine. He'll drop them off and then go home and wait. Like he's supposed to.

Except that doesn't happen. Hopper orders him to drop them off near the entrance, then park in a far back corner and wait. And how can Eddie argue with the Chief of Police?

It does give Eddie a view he never thought he'd see outside of horror movies. About an hour passes before another car pulls into the parking lot, stationing itself facing the mall, and the Wheeler's car still parked along the curb. The headlights on the car go out, and just as Eddie is leaning forward to try and get a better look at the car, something climbs atop the mall, pulling his attention from the car and holy shit what the fuck is that thing.

Eddie clamps both his hands over his mouth to stop from screaming. Then that thing drops into the mall and someone steps out of the car. The person makes it three steps from their car before what looks like the entire US military floods out the entrance of Starcourt, and several military vehicles come barreling around the mall, probably from the employee parking area.

Then there's a knock on Eddie's window and he's fairly certain he almost pisses himself in fear. He whips his head around to look and he just sees some older guy frowning at him.

"Edward," the man's voice is slightly raised but familar, "I believe I told you to go home."

"Holy shit!" Eddie unlocks his door and shoves it open, forcing Dr Owens to step back. Eddie goes to climb out but his seatbelt chokes him because he forgot he was still buckled in. He unbuckles but Dr Owens has moved back into his space, keeping him in his van.

"I'm Sam Owens," he finally, officially, introduces himself. "Care to explain?"

"Hopper made me do it."

Dr Owens doesn't even look surprised. He looks away from Eddie now, towards the flurry of movement happening around the mall. Eddie's eyes follow and he watches as Billy Hargrove, who he can now make out thanks to the spotlights from the fucking helicopters, gets tackled by two men twice his size.

"You're going to save him, right?" Eddie asks.

At that, Dr Owens does look surprised. "We're going to try."

He thinks of Steve's note. Save Max. Save Billy. "You better succeed."

Dr Owens looks like he agrees. He also lets Eddie stay. Make him sit in his car like he's in time out, and it feels like forever, but as soon as everyone Eddie's come to care about comes out the front door, Dr Owens tells Eddie to follow him, and they go join the group.

Steve looks beat to shit and Eddie runs to him, pulling himself back before he can fling himself at Steve and pull him into his arms.

"Jesus, Stevie!" Eddie says, taking in his puffy eye and split lip, and he can't stop the hand that reaches out to touch even though he absolutely should not be reaching for him in public- Steve slams into him, tucking his face into Eddie's neck. He doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around Steve, starts whispering, "I've got you. I'm here and I've got you."

Steve finally pulls back when Joyce approaches, "Steve, let the paramedic look at you."

Steve steps back then but doesn't put distance between them. It reminds Eddie of what he said at graduation. 'I'm not afraid of a single person in this town'. Eddie wishes he wasn't afraid, either.

"Come with me?" Steve asks. Eddie nods, and follows.

They wait while Robin Buckley gets looked over, then it's Steve's turn. Robin takes Steve's place beside Eddie and they watch as Steve is examined. Eddie sees Robin giving him sideways glances, like she's afraid to fully look at Eddie, which is... something.

Once Steve is freed from the medic he steps up on Eddie's other side, the one Robin isn't stationed at, and says, "I need to talk to Owens before we can leave."

"Oh, uh, I'm kind of the Byers' and Hopper's ride. And the weird dudes they came with. They don't speak English."

Steve barks out a laugh at that. "Murray speaks English. And hooboy did we have to hear it from him. He doesn't trust the government."

Eddie doesn't know which of them was Murray, but he agrees. He gestures towards the mall, which some people seem to actively throwing gasoline on in an attempt to burn it faster? Eddie doesn't know. "Well, can't say I trust 'em either if this is the result."

"This is the Russian government's fault," Robin says.

"Oh, no, the Russians wouldn't be this kind of particular problem without our government," Steve says.

Robin just blinks at him. "Are we... still drugged?"

"You were drugged!?" Eddie whips around to Steve.

"Truth serum," Steve nods then seems to realize how quickly he said that and frowns. "It's taking longer to wear off. Or maybe this whole issue was resolved sooner than last time?"

"Shhhh!" Eddie shushes him with a hand on his mouth, looking frantically at Robin to see if she caught was Steve just said. "Stevie. Do not talk anymore tonight."

Steve licks his palm.

July 13th, 1985

It's an uncomfortable gathering around the table. Dr Owens, Chief Hopper, El, Joyce Byers, Steve, and Eddie are sitting at the Harrington dining table. They've all only just sat down, eyes on Steve.

"What do you mean you can't find me?" Steve asks as a whisper. With how silent it is, though, everyone hear.

El frowns. "You are gone. I cannot find you like I could Billy, or Dad, or Dr Owens. I do not know why."

After El had some rest and recovery, Steve had asked if she would look in his memories. Or be present while he remembered them. It was Dr Owens idea; maybe El could remember details that Steve himself did not pick up consciously, but heard to saw nonetheless. They'd attempted it last night to no success.

"Perhaps this has something to do with what... brought you back to this time," Dr Owens says, picking his words carefully with how slowly they left his mouth.

Steve nods before slumping in his chair, his brows furrowing as he thinks. Eddie thinks he's ridiculously cute when he makes that face. Joyce asks Dr Owens a question but Eddie's focus is on Steve. They're sitting next to each other, so he braves bumping his knee against Steve's. Steve responds by flashing him a smile and immediately hooking his ankle around Eddie's before falling back into his thoughts.

Eddie half listens to the conversation around him, half worries about Steve and what it means for him that El cannot find his mind. That being a by-product of the time travel thing seems logical. If Steve's consciousness was dropped into a younger body, the two minds couldn't exist at the same time. So perhaps, because El is searching for a Steve that, technically, no longer exists, she might not be able to find him?

"What about Project NINA?" Steve asks, bringing all conversation to a halt.

"How do you know-" Dr Owens cuts himself off. "No, I know how. Better question. What happened that we needed to actually use Project NINA?"

Steve looks haunted again, like he does when he remembers the timeline he destroyed. "Vecna happens. Spring break of '86. I- we can't talk about that here. I think- he can get inside people's head. Read their minds."

No one says it out loud, but everyone's eyes go to El for a moment and she looks uncomfortable.

"What if," Steve starts, like he's having a realization himself, "what if the reason I can't be found is for my protection? Vecna can read minds, get in there and make you think things- what if I'm being protected by whatever sent me back? Vecna doesn't know that I know what he's up to, 'cause he can't read my mind and know what happens in the future. Can't stop me from trying to stop him! Project NINA is like, a bring back memories thing, right? Take me there. Set it up away from Hawkins and take me there."

They discuss some more, trying to say a lot without saying anything incase Vecna was listening in right now. That's a thought that will keep Eddie up for months.

It's gets decided on that El will go with, to be able to try and reach Steve while he's trying to find his own memories. Hopper is going with because he's not letting El go alone, and that's when Eddie speaks up.

"Then I'm coming, too."

"Eds," Steve looks torn, like he wants to smile and frown at the same time.

"No. If Hopper's going for El's emotional support, than I'm coming for yours."

It's decided. Dr Owens will work on Project NINA, and arrange for them all to be picked up when it was ready.

"One last thing," Steve says, "once you're away from Hawkins, call me. There's someone I don't want involved in this. He's done enough damage. Oh, also, invest in some goddamn swim caps. If you think you can shave my head, or anyone else's, for your dunk tank, then you're going to get hit."

That night, Steve finally tells him what happened. What Dr Owens and he had planned. Steve only told Dr Owens about the Fourth of July, wanted to only change the last possible moment for worry of alerting Vecna to what was happening, worried about Vecna changing the plan if he knew.

He talks about Billy being possessed, how Will was, too, once. Dr Owens thinks they've managed to do that for Billy, but just to be safe, they're taking Billy somewhere. Steve didn't ask, but they're telling his dad that he got a scholarship to some college or other, full ride kind of thing. Max knows the truth, but she also knows he's alive. And knowing he's alive means Max isn't going to pull away from her friends.

Steve says he hopes that means Max is saved.

Eddie learns that Steve and Robin are going to become insufferable best friends, so Eddie had better make peace with that now.

Ha takes it all in, listens as Steve tries to downplay what he went through with humor. Like it was easier to endure just because he knew it was coming this time. It does end with Steve crying, just repeating they lived, this time, no one died, they're fine. And Eddie's smart to enough to know Steve isn't meaning all the people who did become a giant flesh monster; he's talking about they people he cares about. Hopper, who apparently died-but-didn't-die, and Billy.

He learns that last time El lost her powers, probably due to losing Hopper. But she didn't lose Hopper, or even have to fight the giant flesh monster. With the plans Dr Owens made, they'd already stormed and cleared the Russian base below Hawkins. It wasn't Dustin and Erica who freed Robin and Steve from their restraints, but some US military men. They'd waited until the Mind Flayer attacked the mall, dropped down inside it before torching it. They still needed the mall to burn down - there was a Russian base below it, after all.

Once Steve is finished, Eddie kisses his forehead and maneuvers them down in bed so he can spoon him. Steve melts into his touch, pulling Eddie's arms more firmly around him. Steve likes to be the little spoon, Eddie's happy to learn.

"I'm going to come out to everyone. Before we leave," Steve says, long after Eddie thought he's already fallen asleep. "You don't have to. We don't have to tell them we're together, but I want them to know."

The thought terrifies Eddie. He's been beaten up for the assumptions, it's hard to him to imagine what might happen if that words are made true by speaking them out loud. "Can I think on that?"

"Of course."

July 15th, 1985

Eddie does think about it. He thinks about coming out to this little family they've cultivated and it's hard. Coming out to Wayne had been rough, and he was one person! And he'd told Jeff. But Gareth and Brian had just kinda... put the pieces together and told Eddie they didn't care who he liked so long as he never picked his boytoy over Hellfire night (and so far, Eddie hasn't!). Eddie can't imagine telling up to fourteen people all at once.

Fourteen separate people who could hate him.

But Steve seems so sure they won't. That he won't lose anyone when(if) he comes out to them. And fuck, the scariest part if that he kind of wants to. If he and Steve do this together, if they know they're together, he could hold his hand when they're all together. Sit as close as he wants to without the fear of being found out because they'd already know.

But if they aren't okay with it. Or they aren't okay with Eddie.

These people, this group, was Steve's first, so they might be willing to forgive Steve for his temporary lapse in judgment, but Eddie hadn't done anything to earn their trust. Respect. Willingness to not beat him to death for being gay.

And also, a tiny part of him is afraid of losing Steve if he can't commit to coming out.

"Steve," Eddie whispers as they sit on the couch, a movie playing but Eddie's not watching. "I'm scared."

"What?" Steve sounds so confused, and he quickly looks between Eddie and the movie. It's so enduring that Eddie must laugh about it, just a little.

"Not of Footloose. Of telling people. About us."

Steve's face softens and he looks so fond that Eddie aches. "That's okay, Eddie. You don't have to."

"But what if...."

"If?" Steve prompts.

"What if I'm never ready to come out? What if I- if we can't- What does it mean for us, if I never get there?"

"Oh," Steve says, like the thought that Eddie would never come out hadn't ever occurred to him. "Well, then I'll just be the bisexual who never dates again and lives with his best guy friend for the rest of his life."

That's like a gut punch in the best way. That Steve says it so easily, like he plans to stay with Eddie until he dies. Eddie can't fathom that. "Careful, Stevie. With words like that I might get ideas about you."

Steve looks serious now, but with a little upturn to his mouth. A small, secret smile. "Ideas, hmm. What sort?"

"That you might adore me."

"Well, I do adore you," Steve says simply, easily, "I love you, Eddie."

Eddie freezes because that's not- Steve couldn't possibly mean- that's. What. Eddie and he haven't even said the word boyfriend to each other yet and Steve's... Steve is looking at him with such fondness, adoration, love. Butterflies erupt in Eddie's stomach and as quickly as that little bit of dread had filled him, it's gone even faster. Eddie flings himself into Steve's lap, the need to kiss him until both of them are light headed is the only thing left inside Eddie.

Eddie doesn't say it back, can't really, but Steve must know because he keeps repeating it, with every breath Eddie allows him to take in between kisses.

The next morning, Steve wants to comes out to his found family at their Good Luck Project NINA BBQ, because Hopper, El, Steve, and he are going to be heading to Indianapolis that evening to be picked up by Dr Owens men tomorrow morning and everyone wanted a last get together.

Steve is fearless. Steve is fearless, and so strong, and he loves Eddie.

So, when he calls attention to everyone and starts the speech he rehearsed with Eddie, Eddie steps up. Slides his hand into Steve's, gripping it probably to the point of pain, but there. It doesn't matter how they'll react, because Steve loves him. And he loves Steve.

(And if he clocks Lucas and Max exchanging money about it, well, he can't even be mad about that.)

#steddie #my fic #i have taken some liberties with the starcourt scene because lets face it #the timeline/amount of time that has passed between scenes is unreliable anyway #so im gonna be unreliable in a better way #which is lowering the amount of trauma these kids have just a lil bit #also i know it is a mix bag on how we feel about billy hargrove #i just think that steve would try and save him because of the whole Max almost getting Vecna'd in the graveyard thing yknow?#steve can hate billy and still want him to live for max #also STOP SHAVING ELS HEAD #especially when the scenes are of her fainting/passing out/being DRUGGED and waking up with her hair gone without her consent or knowledge #ew wrong ick YOU KNOW WHAT THE TROPE IMPLIES DUFFER BROTHERS IM ONTO YOU

306 notes · View notes

bylertruther · 2 years

Text

do you ever think about the fact that throughout the entirety of stranger things we’ve always seen mike practically shout his love for will from the rooftops by throwing his everything into believing, protecting, and helping will no matter the stakes, and how a majority of byler moments are initiated by him, and how will has always loved him back quietly despite being the one canonically confirmed to be in love, and how will is almost always on the viewer’s right in iconic byler moments but in season four we find him on the left in what used to be mike’s spot because their “roles” have switched AND when we’re taken out of the viewer’s pov and put in jonathan’s pov we see jonathan Come To A Realization here because while mike has always made it clear how special will is to him and how different their relationship is, will has always managed to keep the true depth of his feelings a little closer to his chest and it’s only when he publicly takes up that support role that mike has played for him previously that the audience is purposely made to realize, too, how romantic it truly is, because coming from mike everyone might have thought it was his usual overzealous theatrics but when the same tenderness and earnest love comes from will they realize oh. this is... this is actually something more. this is how they are this is mike and will like nothing has changed and no time has passed but it’s now that we realize just what it is, and now that will is starting to slowly but surely come out from this curtain he’s hid behind his whole life and voice that yes he loves mike of course he does he’s always loved him and loves him in precisely the way that mike expresses he needs to be loved there is simply NO conceivable way that they can come out of this hellish slow burn miscommunication trope not in full acknowledgement and eager acceptance of this love they have for each other and have always had and always will !!!!!!!!

#byler #like. do i make sense. am i making sense.#tagging my posts is so scary now tht there's 92380923028020 of us bt. i can be brave ig .. [trembling in my boots] [sweating shaking crying]#s1-2 was mike loving will more than anyone and not being afraid to show it and s3 was him thinking he had to grow up n out of tht love #bc clearly it's just a kid thing and they'll get over it if they just get girlfriends #and it ended with him having his italicized 'oh.' moment as the byers drove away #and s4 was mike thinking he had lost will for good that time only for will to show him that he's wrong he never lost him and he won't #s4 was about will showing mike that he's always loved him back s4 was abt will showing mike what it means to be in love with someone #s4 was abt will showing him tht he's just as lost without him as mike is without him and tht he doesn't need to be normal or cool #he's absolutely perfect just the way he is and he's loved and needed for who he is not all that he can or can't do #s4 was mike stumbling and will catching him and carrying him the same way that mike carried him in s2 #and s5 will be about them supporting each other and living their complete and total truths now that they see there's no reason to hide #and then in s5 we will finally find our way out of this god awful miscommunication trope</3 #they're a team they're best friends mike needs will and mike is will's heart mike makes will feel better for being different and will shows #mike that he doesn't need to conform and be 'normal' to be worthy of love that he has no obligations to others that everything he is is what #encourages those around him to fight the good fight #and that support and love and the way that they'll come to see each other wholly and truly is what will defeat all evil <3 #it's all coming full circle is wht im saying !!!!!#mine #also when i say audience and we i mean the general audience bc i kno my brothers in byler Understand n Watch The Show With Their Eyes #<3 #also no i will not structure my posts in a way tht makes sense u will read my uninterrupted stream of consciousness and WEEP

164 notes · View notes

marklikely · 9 months

Text

on further reflection maybe it isn't out of character that i liked the kens over the barbies when a lot of the joke is how the barbies are all blandly nice and hypercompetent which as you may know is like my single most uninterested gender dynamic for fictional characters

#i shouldn't be saying any new opinions without rewatching the movie maybe fan response & hindsight is biasing me but it's like #oh you have men that are allowed to be silly and cringe but the women are all nice and have only minor surface level flaws? cool im bored #and the human characters honestly fall into a similar trope. the human women have *more* personality but still very little.#margot barbie as i remember her didn't really. have any flaws or do anything really wrong but she at least had desires #so she's *better* than the others. none of the other barbies except weird barbie are even distinguishable smh #i mean issa rae had the funniest jokes when she was allowed to speak but that's about it.#avpost #there's a reason the main barbies sequence i can remember is when they pretend to be stupid to get the kens to like mansplain to them #bc it was the one time the female characters were allowed to be like. silly. and not boring or trying to force an unearned serious beat.#unfortunately the idea of bad and/or cringefail women is antithetical to a movie like this but idk that's the characters i actually enjoy .#weird barbie could have at least been cringefail but she's still. hypercompetent too. :-/#idk maybe on repeated viewings ill catch more Subtle Flaw Nuance that makes the female characters less boring to me but #it just feels like based on what the movie was going for they were targeting all my personal least fave female character tropes #well meaning liberal babys first feminism media can fall into this trope of goofy men with competent nice women and its soooo dull.#like not always i have enjoyed my fair share of well meaning liberal baby's first feminism media. i have a soft spot 4 it.#but its usually things where the women have conflict *with each other*. or its horror media. so the women aren't all perfect/nice.

14 notes · View notes

didsomeonesayventus · 5 months

Text

swirls glass of apple juice. thinking thoughts about zephia. complicated thoughts.

#katie rambles #she's like. more nuanced than people give her credit for I feel.#she's not super feminist and basically falls into the same pitfall of feminine villain tropes i concede #but that's also kinda the point I feel???#she's about toxic bonds. about giving everything for the wrong people or not understanding that relationships are mutual contribution #and not just all give or all take #to say she is redeemed in death is straight up wrong tho #death is her punishment. it is her unjust reward putting everything she could into the wrong things #it is cautionary. it is regret.#she served sombron with everything she had and she treated her fellow hounds like garbage in an attempt to find belonging #and all she got for it was dying in a lava field almost alone and realizing she wasted her whole life #when all she wanted was with her the whole time #and she never really properly realized it #like still kinda sexist as a villain still very she deserved better #but her whole point is like. that's the point #she deserved better but convinced herself that what she had and was doing was enough and what she wanted #and in her last moments went 'well fuck'#idk complicated thoughts that shouldn't be articulated in tags tbh but are articulated in tags anyways

9 notes · View notes

aaronymous999 · 1 year

Text

I will never shut up about one of the worst tropes in fiction THAT NOBODY TALKS ABOUT- and ahem the winner is: “Pairing off every main character, and I mean EVERY into a romantic relationship at the end of the story or sometime during the story” even if it makes no sense to the plot, or the character made it clear they aren’t interested in romance, all because some authors for some reason ( there actually is a reason but yknow ) think all the characters need to be paired off for a happy ending. Fandoms engage in this trope too sometimes and I very much so dislike it. And then there’s the weird cousin of this trope, “Most characters get paired off, but mostly the women, the men don’t need a partner and three kids, mainly just the women.” LOOKING AT YOU WARRIOR CATS DONT DENY IT YOU ARE GUILTY AS CHARGED.

#aaronymous ramblings #warrior cats #tropes #actually though it bothers me so much when romance is seen as the happiest end for a person so creators and fandoms enforce it so hard #meanwhile my aromantic ass is sighing and banging my head against a wall because the only single owl house character is Gus yet who knows I #thought the same way about hunter and vee and willow but then oops shipping #nothing wrong with those ships or shipping in general but sometimes it starts to feel like they are just a result of this world’s #insistence that romance is better than platonic or any kind of affection #where are my platonic love stories I want more of them #as much as I love romance anime sometimes it has this problem too #biggest critique of Horimiya despite how much I love it #Also WARRIOR CATS. STOP INSISTING YOUR FEMALE CHARACTERS SETTLE DOWN AND HAVE BABIES #Like the only ones who dont are like. Feathertail because she’s dead. Hollyleaf because she’s dead but she also apparently had ghost cuddles #and then Bristlefrost. because shes dead.#this sounds like a really dumb thing to complain about but nobody talks about this trope and it annoys me to no end!!

17 notes · View notes

worstsequence · 1 year

Text

#historically rage filled day yes its steddie characterizations again yes i struggle with regulating my engage #ment with fandoms in a way thats healthy for me and am still bad at learnimg to scroll #yes i love the fandom yes its the only thing that brings me remotely any joy all these things are true #hate the double standards of the way people write steve vs the way they write eddie.#hate course correcting 'the party is too mean to steve' to Now theyre mean to eddie.#in ways that should definitely be hurting his feelings and yet its seen as cute and silly #steve and robin can be mean to him and its just their dynamic 🤪#people can fill in empty spots in steves backstory with subtext but with eddie suddenly its all about canon #yes theres 18000 fics and the opposite is presumably out there. i just have never seen it #yes its probably the yaoification. the inability to not strip characters down to fit them into top bottom tropes.#if i read bottom eddie id probab;y find more of this. however i dont want to do that #hate steve meangirlisms cute and charming and everyones like oh steve but eddie has 1000 sins to repent for.#again -resumably a course correction of people writing steve as still having to repent for s1. which i agree is dumb and wrong #but its annoying when steve being judgy is seen as a likeable character trait but eddie does the same thing and suddenly he owes every #character an apology #hate that eddies insecurities are villainized but steves insecure suddenly its eddie and everyone elses job to fix him.#i just want better for both of them neither of them feel like themselves so often. which. again. is an mlm trope problem i think.#also yes steve is a main character and eddie is a dead side character. so more people are attatched to him and he has more stake like #in the narrative.#🕷.archive #eddie meta

12 notes · View notes

lanihaluki · 8 months

Text

fort & cyrus are so gina/ricky coded (with cyrus as gina and fort as ricky)

#only ppl who’ve read revenge of magic and have watched high school musical the series would get this #but IT FITS SO WELLLL #spoilers in tags ?? —>#the way cyrus/gina start off as manipulative people/outsiders #who then meet (1) person aka fort/ricky who teach them to grow and become who they want to be #and underneath their original ‘mask’ cyrus/gina are just REALLY soft #(but takes them time and self love to get there!!!)#also both cyrus/gina have complicated relationships w their families #then for ricky/fort!!! the way their characters started off being more selfish #over time tho developed into much more caring people who becoming accepting of the idea of change!!#it’s also how when together rina and fyrus help each other grow their identities & become better people (this would just be tco for rom)#and how gina/cyrus spent their whole lives feeling like they were never seen or understood by anyone except for fort/ricky #plus ricky/fort always wanting to run away from their issues & not be vulnerable #& both represent right person/wrong time trope !!#revenge of magic #rom #high school musical the series #Gina porter #ricky bowen #Cyrus rom #fort fitzgerald #forsythe fitzgerald

4 notes · View notes

doobea · 4 months

Text

YOU'RE A MEAN ONE, MISTER GOJO ─ SATORU G.

synopsis: satoru gojo is spoiled and arrogant. he's also the next in line to inherit his family's fortune. his father sends him far away in a small town for a week in hopes that he'll 'change' for the better. instead of the usual five-starred hilton hotels, he stays at a local inn and starts to befriend the owner's daughter.

tropes: small town romance, christmas au, golden retriever x black cat

MILESTONE EVENT || MILESTONE MASTERLIST

contents: fem!reader, spoiled rich boy!gojo, acts like an ass to everyone but hopelessly falls in love with you at first sight, feels like a really bad hallmark movie, mentions of wealth class differences, reader isn't a tsundere - she's just indifferent for the most part and introverted word count: 7.5K (idk i will uh make the fics shorter in the future) a/n: thank you anon for requesting this!! idk if this is what you wanted but hopefully you like it!! :3 everyone also give a round of applause to @popponn for beta reading this big mess LMAO

Satoru Gojo has a lot of expectations, but this certainly isn’t one of them.

He isn’t particularly excited about spending a week away from his big city penthouse to be rotting in a small town motel in the middle of nowhere but, his father, CEO of Gojo Corporations, heavily insisted that he ‘needs this’ and that ‘it’ll be good for the company’ — whatever that means. Satoru is confident that his father thinks he’s incapable of running the family business after last month’s run with the paparazzi and his third fling of the month. It wasn’t his fault that they got caught doing drugs at one of Zenin's parties, everyone else was doing the same thing, it just so happened that the cameras were only focusing on him.

Well, that’s what he gets for signing up to be the son of one of the richest men on Earth.

“You need to start taking this seriously,” he recalls his father slamming his fist down at the desk before throwing a bottle of Henessy at the wall. “I don’t want this company to go bankrupt just because I have a son who only thinks with his dick.”

Ouch… but he’s not wrong about that.

So now Satoru finds himself driving up a winding road somewhere very deep in the mountains. Exactly five hours away from the city. And, for the past three hours, all he’s been seeing are miles and miles of pine trees, sheets of snow, and — he had recently learned this from Suguru — sugar shacks. Apparently when you’re out over a hundred miles into wilderness territory these sap houses are littered everywhere. The fact that Satoru is beginning to count more shacks than designer cars on the road is really starting to get to him.

“This whole thing is so fucking stupid,” Satoru has also been talking to himself throughout the journey in order to not lose his mind. “He could’ve just sent me door to door caroling instead of whatever this is.” Satoru doesn’t know how to sing well, but he does know all the lyrics to ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside’ and that usually gets him all the tips. He wonders if he can manage to make a small side hustle when he starts wasting his week here.

He takes a sharp turn up around the hill before finally recognizing a big red sign with the name ‘Mistle Town’ as seen on the postcard his dad left him before leaving. It takes him another five minutes of driving through said small town, which is quite literally something out of one of those really bad holiday movies that his mom would force him to watch when he was little, before arriving at the inn. Upon arriving, Satoru is noticeably disappointed at the lack of valet assistance and, the size and design of the inn, is rather lackluster.

First, it just looks like a regular white farmhouse. Maybe having a max of ten rooms, none of them being penthouse sized, Satoru assumes. There are a couple of flowerbeds out front, all covered in a couple of inches of snow, and there’s subtle signs of holiday decor slowly bleeding its way outside. He sees someone dressed in an oversized puffer by the entrance, arms occupied with red tinsel and large white ornaments, and figures that the first nice thing he’ll do is to help out a random stranger — just to prove something to his dad.

Satoru parks his Rolls Royce in a spot furthest away from everyone else in the parking lot and sends a ‘im alive and well’ text to Suguru, because he’s very much so going to be in frequent contact with him for the remainder of the trip, before heading up.

“Need a hand?” He points out the obvious but still manages to throw a smile as if he’s already fixed the situation unfolding in front of him.

Satoru’s presence seems to pull you from your busy trance. You wiped your body around, nearly smacking the damn tinsel in his face, and made a small surprised noise.

“I’ve got it,” you muffle out and he looks entirely unconvinced but, whatever, he tried anyway.

Satoru gives you a few encouraging pats on the back before heading inside, failing to realize his strength and causing you to lose your balance, making a few ornaments tumble to the ground. Thank god they’re all plastic though.

He pretends to not hear you yelling after him as he enters the double doors, immediately greeted by the scent of roasted coffee beans and leather. It’s the precious hour in the morning where nobody comes by, right after the cleaning staff had just finished vacuuming, when he struts in. He immediately spots someone vaguely familiar by the front desk. Long black hair, a red poofy bow tie in the back, and a distinctive scar across her face. The woman isn’t working alone, a man with another facial marking is next to her, brewing two cups of coffee by the espresso machine.

Satoru looks at the woman again and outwardly smiles. “What are you doing here?”

“Ugh,” Utahime’s composure immediately falters at the sound of his voice, not that it’s a big shock. “Helping the family business, what else?” she throws back with a certain sharpness to her tone, and waves off the casual talk. “Have you even mentally prepared yourself for what you’re getting into?”

Satoru simply shrugs and saunters over to a nearby seat by the counter. “Nah, honestly just planning to fuck around till I get back.”

Utahime flushes a little, though it’s mainly from frustration. “Satoru Gojo, you really are—”

“Utahime,” the man next to her speaks, handing her a cup of coffee, and slides Satoru a freshly brewed one, too. “I can explain the details to him, if you would like?”

The older female rubs the bridge of her nose and exhales a long, overdue sigh. “Please do, Choso.”

“Yeah,” Satoru leans into the counter, lips pointed down at this new face. “Please, do tell.”

“You’re basically our little Santa helper.” A new voice rings out from behind him. It spooks Satoru from his seat and he whips his head around to be met with your narrow eyes.

“Huh?”

“Also think of this as an unpaid internship.” You start laughing when he gags on his own saliva at your statement. “Okay, you don’t have to be so dramatic about it.”

Satoru swallows. “U-Unpaid…?”

Now it’s Utahime’s turn to speak, she huffs and tosses a couple of stockings into his arms. “Your father sent us a lengthy email a few days prior regarding your bratty behavior. So, of course, we came prepared.”

“Prepared…?” He feels the fabric in his hands and whines at the grainy texture. This is so not 100% real wool.

If Satoru thought he had any chance of actually taking over his father’s company, because he knows the difference between supply and demand, he’s wrong.

Customer service is not his forte. He’s always thrown emails and sponsorship paperwork at his many assistants, and Satoru doesn’t even know his own email log-in password. So, when you walked up to him first thing the next morning with a brown apron, the inn’s logo large and embroidered in the center, telling him how to function all these coffee machines that he’s seen behind hundreds of counters, it invoked some fear into his already wrecked nerves. Plus, no one dared to warn him about the clientele during a holiday rush.

“I want a venti peppermint frappe with two pumps of chocolate, three pumps of hazelnut, replace it with almond milk, one shot of espresso, and top it off with a drizzle of caramel on top.”

He slumps against the counter. “You sure you want all of that?”

“Can I please get a half dozen sfogliatella and a cannoli?

He starts picking at his cuticles and sneers. “Sorry, I don’t speak Italian.”

“My change is supposed to be five dollars, you only gave me three back?”

Satoru groans. “You’re trying to scam me, aren’t you?”

By the end of his four hour shift, Satoru feels like he’s just done more charity work than he’s ever done in his life — actually, maybe this could also be comparable to the time where he did the ribbon cutting ceremony at Chanel; gotta support small businesses, right?

“Gojo.” You’re seated across from him behind the counter, arms crossed and pursed lips.

He barely spares you a glance as he idly plays whatever shitty mobile game that’s number one on the app store. “Mhm? What is it?” He clearly knows you’re upset, your voice practically screams ‘I will end you’ in the most monotonous way possible. But can you blame him? Of all places, Satoru does not want to spend his winter break here.

You jerk your head to the side, fingers rhythmically tapping away on the counter, clearly unimpressed. “It hasn’t even been a full day and you’ve managed to piss off every single customer.”

Satoru expression shifts, brow creasing, and sighs, grabbing a handful of mint chocolate from the freebie candy jar by the register. “Don’t be dramatic,” he rolls his eyes and shoves three pieces in his mouth before jabbing a finger at a young man. “I didn’t piss him off!”

You glower, cheeks slightly puffed out. “That’s Yuuji and he’s practically a family friend and Choso’s little brother, so he doesn’t count,” you explain before adding, “Plus, he’s literally nice to everyone. You’re not special.”

And for a second, Satoru considered arguing that fact. Having been born into wealth, granted whatever wish he wanted, his butlers and maids are always on speed dial, that’s the lifestyle he’s used to. Placed on this tiny rock called Earth just to take over it one day, is what his father used to always say to him. But how can he, Satoru Gojo, take over when he’s stuck working a minimum — scratch that, unpaid — wage job as punishment?

Instead of fighting, Satoru slumps against the counter and pouts, like a little kid who just got their toy taken away. You and your sister Utahime have a clear advantage over him, by somehow being close, yet distant, friends to his family. Maybe karma is real.

“I’m putting you on ski lessons later.”

Satoru’s ears perk at this. “Oh, so I get some employee benefits, right?”

You roll your eyes, digging deep in your pockets to pull out a sheet with his name next to a list of others. “Wrong. You’re in charge of teaching five year olds how to ski.”

“Huh?”

Somehow that sounds even worse than being a barista. Kinda.

By the end of his first day of unemployment, Satoru tries to convince himself that a full change of scenery is nice. Well, he has to convince himself, otherwise he’s stuck dreading each coming day for the rest of the week.

“Tired yet, Gojo?”

You flop down on a spare armchair in his room, squishing his Canada Goose jacket underneath. He’s too tired to yell at you to get off and tumbles onto his bed, feet dangling off the edge, letting out a loud groan when his face immediately makes contact with the rough wooly blanket. Surprisingly to him, everything just feels so comfortable that the quality of the products doesn’t even cross his mind.

Sure, the air in the room is a bit musty, and he can feel his cheeks flaring up from the sudden change in temperature and the dull aching nag in his legs from demonstrating ski tricks to toddlers, but there’s an odd sense of fulfillment swelling in his chest just about now. He almost suggests taking over Choso’s lesson but, according to the hotel pamphlet, there’s going to be an ice fishing tournament tomorrow and he kinda wants to check that out, too.

“Exhausted,” he mumbles into the sheets, eyes squeezed shut. Satoru wiggles his body around for a few moments before slipping out of his snow boots and stares out the window, noticing flickering green and purple lights in the night sky. “Woah, are those…?”

He hears you laugh beside him. “Yeah, northern lights. We see them all the time during the winter.”

“Only seen them bitches in ‘Polar Express’.” Satoru finds himself saying whatever’s on his mind right now, his brain too whipped out to control his mouth. “You guys are lucky to see this every night.”

“I know you’re all pooped out from today but,” he feels the mattress dip by the edge and your fingers poking at his thighs. “Did you wanna head up to the balcony and watch them for a bit?” you say this experimentally, waiting for his reaction.

Satoru might be a stranger to most natural phenomenons, having to zone out all the time whenever he did go on family vacations to a fancy national park when he was younger. Though, during the short time of spending his time here, it makes him think about packing up and leaving behind the fast paced city life for a bit of natural beauty and brightness.

“Carry me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re like a giant.”

He manages to gather some energy to sit up on his elbows. “You should at least have some form of hospitality to a family friend, you know?”

You eye him for a long moment, and then finally huff, breaking the contact to kick your feet into the festive carpeted floor. “Alright, just don’t lean your whole body weight on me.”

“Wouldn’t count on that.”

Both of you end up tumbling onto the balcony rails around one in the morning. As expected, Satoru couldn’t keep to his promise, throwing his ridiculously long arms around your shoulders, and whining the whole way up the stairs. It’s not his fault that the inn didn’t have an elevator installed. In all, it’s not a bad day — a bad night, even.

You straighten him against the railing before throwing a blanket over him. The fabric is thick and heavy, and Satoru forgets the ache in his limbs as he watches the way your eyes focus, eyebrows knitted, when you’re making sure he stays bundled up against the winter air. Once upon a time, Satoru never would’ve thought he would actually enjoy being in the company of someone who’s actively trying to teach him a lesson.

“Okay,” you say suddenly, almost like a reminder that you need to breathe, and pull away from him once he’s wrapped tightly like a swaddled baby.

You both sit in silence for a moment, and Satoru feels the urge to fill all that silence. He supposes maybe that’s why most people find him so annoying. He never really shuts up, always wants to add the last comment to everything. Though, with the help of Suguru by his side, it’s gotten slightly easier and bearable for others but, when his head is big and full of loud thoughts, it’s so hard trying to calm the buzzing noise in his head and —

“Gojo, look,” your pointer finger darts at the illuminated skyline in the distance and he snaps his head, following the trail, before gasping.

He feels your other hand tugging at the blanket when he finally makes out two faint bright lights in the distance. You squirm slightly next to him, to the point where your shoulders touch, and Satoru finally breathes, because suddenly, there’s heat rushing in. The loud, rough winds around him seem to die down and he’s aware of the slightly gazed expression on your face as you look into the far distance.

“Did you make a wish?” he finds himself whispering.

You grin. “Yeah, gonna make you work here for eternity,” you reply back in good natured spirit.

Something stirs inside Satoru. Something important. Well, Satoru-level important, so in the grand scheme of things, not very — but still. He unravels parts of his blanket and throws it over your head, making sure that it messes up your hair, and laughs when you throw him another pout.

“Did you make a wish?” you adjust the blanket so it covers your shoulders, moving a little closer to him, avoiding the cool breeze.

Satoru nods but presses a finger to his lips. “Not telling, though. Might not come true if I do.”

“Oh, shoot. Maybe I should’ve kept mine a secret then.”

He rolls his eyes and nudges your waist with an elbow. “You will definitely not see me here again.”

Satoru realizes, very fast, that his life has become very different, very quickly. And it might not be the bad kind of different.

Over the course of the next few days, he’s practically glued to your side as you’re showing him all things related to hospitality that his father tried to drill into him when he was a pre-teen. Obviously, it didn’t work at the time. Satoru’s known for being defiant just because he wanted to, and eventually his father stopped with the after school etiquette lessons. You, on the other hand, unfortunately have him tied around your fingers.

“You need to tidy up the edges more, Gojo.”

“There’s barely a wrinkle in these sheets!” He points at the bed sheet on the mattress, the one that he’d been working on for the last ten minutes in vain while you stood next to him with slightly concerned eyes. It’s a room service type of lesson today and, even though Satoru has never made his own bed before, he’s positive that he didn’t leave behind any smudges that might catch anyone’s eye.

“Did you check tuck in the sides? Or are you trying to get off easy for today?” You say, there’s a mild accusation in your tone when you speak, smiling as you step aside.

And, despite the warm smile, Satoru frowns a little, because guess who forgot to tuck in the sides?

When Satoru ducks his head around the mattress and sees a good loose chunk of the sheets hanging off and groans when you’re right. “It’s not my fault that they’ve made them so big for no reason,” he replies, somewhat embarrassed, rubbing the back of his head and messing up his already ruffled hair.

You roll your eyes and stick a tongue out. “You’re getting the hang of it though, maybe even faster than Yuuji when he first offered to help.”

He flushes at the unexpected praise and quickly fixes the sheets, turning his whole entire body away from your sight. “Better than Yuuji, right?”

“Oh? So, you only work better with compliments, Gojo?” You sound amused, as if a lightbulb just popped on top of your head.

Satoru flattens out the bed once more, strangely now feeling satisfied with the final outcome before turning around, sticking out a tongue of his own. “Only if it’s from you,” he answers, honestly.

You laugh, and hopefully it’s not at him. “I thought you would be more annoying to deal with.”

“So, I’m just regular amounts of annoying?” He points out, with a fake frown, his fingers fiddling with the edges of the sheet.

You turn your gaze, seemingly in deep thought, before responding with a small shrug and grin. “Possibly a perfect amount of annoying.”

Satoru feels the blood rushing to his cheeks, again. “Well, of course, it’s the perfect amount because I’m perfect,” he replies, instantly, but suddenly he’s shy and feels the need to go to the next room to fix their stupid sheets before he combusts in front of you.

“Gojo,” you say, almost hesitantly.

He swallows and rubs the back of his neck, wiping off evidence of his sweaty palms. “Yeah?”

“You missed a spot,” and your pointer fingers direct at the far right corner of the bed frame. He must’ve pulled the sides too hard and it caused the other side to flip over. Ugh, he’s not cut out for this at all.

“I’m… uh, still better than Yuuji, right?”

“Mhm, getting there, Gojo.”

By day four, Satoru has surprisingly adjusted to the rules and responsibilities. He’s not entirely sure what’s gotten him mildly well behaved, Suguru is a bit surprised by the daily updates being less… aggressive and whiny. What started as long vent paragraphs about the lack of heated flooring and needy customers, soon turned into photo albums of kids face planting into the snow and unconsented selfies with you in the background. Satoru absolutely makes sure you end up looking the worst out of the two because he’s gotta let his best friend know who’s the prettiest and he’s definitely racking up a blackmail album of all of your worst moments in case anything happens in the future.

It’s closing time and he just got back from the reindeer shed out in the back, covered head to toe in all things hay and snow. First things first, and no one bothered to tell him, but reindeers smell bad. Like, really bad. Especially at the end of the day, where their pens are covered in shit and countless carrots and apple bits from the little kids overfeeding them. Satoru is vaguely aware of the fact that he smells, just like he’s vaguely aware that the hotel lobby is oddly quiet from the usual banter between you and the usual workers.

Utahime and Choso are sitting by the cafe bar, seemingly deep in conversation about ordering more supplies for next week. Satoru thinks about interrupting their session with probably an unrelated dumb question, but the idea dies when Utahime notices his presence and motions him to come over.

“You stink,” Satoru casts a half-glare at Utahime and begins picking out some of the scattered hay pieces stuck to his sweater.

“For the record, I became good friends with Rudolph and Vixen today,” he grumbles back and Choso throws him a pat on the back.

“Hey, I don’t mind your stink, by the way. Smells kinda nice,” Choso offers up, but Satoru only shoots him a very unhappy look.

“If you think I smell nice then I’m really worried about what you think smells bad,” then he turns over to Utahime again, who’s engrossed in whatever is on her clipboard right now. “So, what did you need from me?”

“My sister,” she starts and taps away at the clipboard before handing it over to him. It’s pages upon pages of invoices from the past month. “Could you hand this to her? She should be in the back.”

“You treating me like an errand boy?”

Utahime scoffs. “What? Don’t wanna see her?”

“No, I do,” he responds, a bit too fast for his own liking, and straightens out. “Uh, is that all?” Satoru hopes his face doesn’t betray how much he’s a bit excited to interact with you, given that today was a full day out in the trenches, and he absolutely needs to hear you say his name at least twice a day in order to have a good night’s sleep.

Choso is trying really hard not to laugh, and Satoru takes it as a sign that he currently has a cheesy smile on his face — go figure. “One of the corner rooms upstairs requested a weighted blanket, mind also doing that too?”

There’s a certain relief that floods through Satoru and he thinks maybe he can take on a few more tasks for the night if that means spending a little more time with you, even if his body is screaming that he needs to take a two hour long shower.

“Hey,” he starts to say when he rounds the corner, “Where’d you put those weighted blankets again?”

Satoru expected to walk in on you neck-deep in paperwork. You’ve mentioned earlier in the week that this year would be the busiest and there’s a bunch of stuff due. Something about end of the year tax returns and inventory counts, it all goes out his ear but he remembers something similar that his father told him in a prior conversation. He thinks he could probably help you figure out some of it, but that might be a bit much.

What he walks in on, thought, is you sitting in your little makeshift office. You’re on your laptop, the screen’s tilted just right enough that he gets a glimpse of what you’re looking at. You’re looking at flights and hotels, even got a whole spreadsheet on the second monitor. From what he’s seen of you so far, you didn’t come off as the type to talk about your future that much.

His voice catches you by surprise and your expression flickers from something vaguely focused to embarrassment real quick. You hastily close out the tabs and go back to the hotel’s homepage.

“What is it, Gojo?” And there’s this awkward, oddly frantic moment of you fumbling around with the keyboard and mouse, like a teenage boy who’s just got caught looking at porn.

“Ah,” Satoru thinks seeing your flustered side is rather adorable, to say the least. “You tryin’ to plan a vacation or something?” He struts over to your desk, placing a firm hand onto the back of the chair, and there’s this smile on his face that just screams ‘gotcha’.

Your face scrunches up but it’s not out of annoyance. “Kinda?”

Even with a grumpy look, it’s a good look on you. Makes you kinda dark, brooding, and beautiful, and it turns your eyes into dark storm clouds, or some other weird, waxy poetic shit that Satoru can’t figure out the words to. Either way, Satoru thinks you look cute and can’t stop noticing your little facial movements. You’re more expressive than you would probably imagine.

“Ooh, where to?”

You sigh and start playing with your thumbs. “Malaysia. My friend told me great things about it and I’ve been meaning to go for a while now but time and money are always iffy.”

“Makes sense, I can imagine that being an inn assistant doesn’t pay all the bills.”

That was probably the wrong thing to say. You huff and glare, an icy-death glare, at him. If looks could kill, Satoru is sure that he’ll be six feet underground by now.

“Weighted blankets are on the second floor closet by the laundry room,” you answer his initial question curtly before shutting the laptop. “Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“It was just a question,” he mumbles slowly, and maybe even a little dangerously. “If money’s an issue—”

“Gojo.” Your voice is fixed and rigid, one that leaves absolutely no room for debate. “Your dad was right about you; you always just fall back to your fame and wealth.”

As you’re busy staring, Satoru realizes that you’re kinda being a total ass to him right now.

“That’s not fair,” his voice is rising and can’t seem to put a stop to the words spilling out. “Don’t bring my dad into this conversation.”

“Or what? You can go back to your privileged life anytime you want. This is just a field trip for you while others actually have to try hard and make a living.” You spit out.

“No one forced you to become an inn worker, you know? If you’re so worried about money then you could’ve just found another high paying job.” Satoru wrinkles his nose and his volume continues to rise.

You immediately offer him a dark glare and it comes off in a cut-throat way that shuts Satoru up mid thought. The rest of his counters die in his throat when you start making hand gestures at the office exit and he gets the hint: ‘leave before I lose my shit’ is the calling he sees.

And it works, because he finds his tone shifting a little, awkwardly kicking the floor and backing off. “Whatever…”

That was last night and, by now, Satoru is realizing that he’s kind of a giant asshole and the guilt is slowly eating away at him. Was he always like this? It couldn’t have been — he’s only met you a few days ago, and this is only meant to be a quick, ‘vacational’, getaway. Sure he might be a bit selfish and a dick, but he had been able to function perfectly fine before all of this, hadn’t he?

Satoru’s not really sure.

It’s noon, and he’s lying in bed. Choso had asked him to cover his shift at the cafe, and he’d agreed, readily, even though it’s supposed to be his day off, because you’re working. Choso had texted him, though, saying that you had simply said you’d work the entire shift by yourself.

Of course. It’s absolutely not funny anymore.

Satoru sighs. He’s going to apologize, that’s for sure. It wounds some of his pride, yeah, but whatever, this tension between you guys, though, isn’t worth it. He finds himself wasting his entire morning away rotting in bed. There are things that he could be doing, that he looks forward to, like feeding the reindeers or demonstrating basic ski moves to little kids. Choso and Yuuji totally got him addicted to yelling out ‘pizza’ and ‘french fry’ at every chance he gets. They also got him addicted to a shitty relationship forum they both browse, but somehow the idea of reading other people’s relationship drama, when he’s facing drama of his own, is kinda mentally exhausting.

On second thought, maybe he should post on that forum, actually.

It might not be such a bad idea.

Or maybe he could reach out to Suguru and ask how to apologize?

His best friend is a bit more grounded and attuned with other people’s feelings compared to him, afterall. Satoru’s not good at this stuff and he’s always just cut others off whenever they do argue, but this feels different. And, well, for the first time in forever, Satoru is desperate.

“I fucked up big time and I need to apologize, help me out here?”

Suguru scoffs over the line. “Wow, what happened to saying ‘hello’ or ‘how are you’?”

Satoru rolls his eyes. “Hi, hello. How are you? How do I make a sincere apology?”

“I’m good, thank you. Now, for your request, depends on how big the fuck up is.”

He bites his tongue, finding the right words to essentially not sound like a huge dick but, no matter how he wants to rephrase it, the outcome is the same. “I might’ve implied that she’s poor and needs someone to take care of her?” It sounds so stupid, so mean, and so degrading now that he’s saying it out loud.

He hears Suguru sucking in his teeth and sighs. After a couple of pauses, his best friend finally speaks. “That’s pretty fucked up.”

Satoru frowns. “Okay, yeah, it is,” and he sits up in his bed when a snowball makes an impact against the window. It’s Utahime. And, currently, she’s throwing him the nastiest glare that a woman has ever given him in his life. “Um, I’ll call you back, buddy…”

“What? I haven’t given you—”

“Don’t have time for unwarranted advice right now.”

“You called me!”

“Bye!” Satoru ends the call before shuffling towards the window, swallowing a hard lump, and inches the glass panel just small enough for him to hear coherently and not big enough for her to punt him across the face. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?”

But Utahime is in an obvious shitty mood and Satoru’s lack of charming antics aren’t going to work this time. “I’m going to apologize, I promise,” he tries to insist.

“This is all your fault,” she immediately gets to the point and it makes him shrink back just a tiny bit. He’s starting to see that the bluntness runs in the family. “Just get your ass to work.”

“But my shift doesn’t start till—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Utahime starts to form an even bigger snowball and raises it to the window panel. “Ass out of bed, now.”

Okay, so as much as Satoru had tried to tell himself that this week wouldn’t be bad, it’s really starting to get fucking awful.

Everyone’s in a shit mood. Yuuji tries to crack some jokes but the usual crowd isn’t having it. You’ve been throwing Satoru dirty looks while working behind the cafe counter together and he’s been put on drink duty — which is his worst nightmare — while you’re attending to the customers because you’re young and cute enough for them to be nice to you. Satoru has spilled hot coffee and chocolate on himself like four times so far, and the shift just started. He’s terrified that the rest of this week is going to be like this.

“Can we talk?” Satoru whisper shouts over the espresso machine.

He sees your shoulders tensing up but immediately relaxes them afterwards. “Did you hear something, Yuuji?”

The boy looks up from the bar counter, it’s his day off and he’s catching up on some homework, but the seemingly growing tension that’s unfolding in front of him is making it painfully hard for him to focus on anything engineering related. Yuuji scratches the back of his neck before darting his eyes back and forth between the two of you. Normally, he would be the voice of reason, but Satoru doesn’t blame him when he shakes his head.

“N-Nah, must’ve been the wind or something...”

Great, he’s been reduced to an air draft.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought,” you agree without missing a beat. As the next customer in line spends an eternity holding everyone up, debating whether to get the seasonal muffin or french toast to go with their drink, you continue, “Thought I heard a rotten brat for a second.”

He absolutely doesn’t expect the harsh insult. Satoru widens his eyes at the outburst and there’s a small pause, the silence ticking in between everyone, and he’s sure that you’re glaring him down somewhere in a small reflection on the counter.

Satoru debates whether to call out your name and shake some sense into you, but Yuuji quickly swallows and makes a motion with his hands to his throat, a universal signal saying — ‘I wouldn’t test the waters, if I were you’.

And, after the customer finally decides that they didn’t want any pastries with their coffee order, you finish the transaction before announcing that you’re going on a small fifteen minute break to “stretch”. Though, anyone could see that you’re planning to cool off before you manage to actually blow up in Satoru’s face.

“How the hell am I going to talk to her?” he groans to Yuuji once you’re finally away. He’s managing the cash register and, surprisingly, finishes taking the remaining orders quite smoothly compared to his first day. At least he can pat himself on the back for this.

“You’ve really pissed her off, dude,” Yuuji replies and Satoru just rolls his eyes because that’s all he’s been hearing from everyone else all day today. “You should talk to her when she’s not… charged up.”

“Way to point out the obvious.” Sometimes he forgets that Yuuji is a bit oblivious. How is he doing so well as a mechanical engineering major?

Yuuji makes an audible ‘pop’ and whistles. “What did you even say to her?”

Satoru groans into his hands. “Did she not tell you?”

“Well, she wasn’t exactly in a chippy mood to talk about anything this morning — outside of work, that is.”

“Here’s a little TLDR version: might’ve said something classist.”

“Might’ve?”

“Okay, definitely said something classist.”

“Then…” Yuuji drums his fingers against the counter, deep in thought. “Y’know, whenever me and Megumi fight, I always invite him out to the movies to try and cheer him up. Might not be applicable to you but…”

Satoru blinks. “Are you suggesting a date would help?”

“Maybe not a date—”

“No, I’m sorry for calling you dumb, you’re so right—a nice date might work!”

“You never called me dumb, though?”

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say, kiddo.”

Satoru unravels the ribbon on his apron and throws it in Yuuji’s general direction, not caring if he tossed the stained uniform directly in his face. He hops the counter and pats the younger male on the shoulder, flashing him a genuine smile because, hey, maybe Yuuji actually is smarter than he looks.

“Gonna totally invite you to the wedding.”

It’s no secret that Satoru Gojo hasn’t been on a proper date in a pathetically long time.

He has swiped right on a number of highly influential celebrities and figures on dating apps before. Matched with nearly all of them. Gone on…maybe a lot of first dates with not a lot of second dates coming right after. Who cares though, everyone’s just there for the photos and followers anyway. Satoru knows that he’s attractive and that he personally loves big, lavish dates but, at this point, he knows you enough to understand you absolutely hate big gestures.

After a short winded conversation with Suguru and Utahime, separately, Satoru has concluded on not buying you first class tickets to Malaysia.

“Are you trying to get her to hate your guts?” Was the general consensus of the conversation with said people.

So, what’s the next best option if he can’t fly you out to Malaysia? The answer is pretty simple — bring Malaysia to Mistle Town. And no, he’s not going to be relying on his black card for anything, even though the back of his mind is telling him otherwise.

Choso blinks several times at Satoru’s printed out proposal. The colorful letters and Google image photos of beaches and coconuts slapped poorly onto the document screams back at Choso and Yuuji, bright and early on Christmas Eve.

It’s unusual for Satoru to be bouncing excitedly in place for someone other than himself. So this catches everyone off guard.

Yuuji whispers something intangible to Choso, but Satoru is able to make it out as, “Do we even have coconuts here?”

To which Choso replies, “It’s winter, so I don’t think so.”

And Yuuji moves onto the next question in queue, “What should we do about the lack of palm trees?”

A patient sigh from Choso, “We could always trim the pine trees outside?” He lamely suggests.

“It’s a good idea, no?” Satoru jumps right back in, completely missing the flat vibe from the brothers. He frowns. “Why are you guys giving me that look?”

And, like his best friend and your sister, the brothers throw him a confused head tilt.

“Well,” Yuuji weakly starts, “Your plan ‘Project: Bring Malaysia here in hopes of Y/N falling in love with me’ doesn’t really sound that great… even on paper.”

Satoru grins, fully expecting that to be the response. “I’ll order the things, don’t worry about it. I just need to borrow your lungs for this project.”

Yuuji scratches his cheek in confusion, laughing nervously again. “Our lungs…?” he echos.

“How long do I have to keep this dumb blindfold on, Choso?”

“U-Um,” Choso shoots Satoru a brow as he carefully guides you through the hotel lobby.

It’s currently decked out from head to toe in all things yellow, green, and pink beach themed inflatables. Choso and Yuuji reminded Satoru last night that maybe two flamingos would’ve been enough to get the message across, but seeing that he ordered a whole colony? Yeah, he’s sending the rich boy prayers as he reels you in further, avoiding collision with the colorful balloons and seven-foot tall palm trees, too.

“Choso?”

He squeezes your shoulders when Satoru shoots him a thumbs up. “Ten seconds.”

Satoru quietly walks over to both of you, tip toeing so the sounds of his loafers are minimized against the flooring. Once he’s inches away, Choso retreats off into a different room, mouthing to him words of final encouragement, which Satoru gladly took.

You appear restless under the blindfold. “I swear to god, if I take it off and there’s a giant pile of reindeer shit in the middle of the lobby I will actually kill somebody—”

And Satoru quietly debates whether or not he wants to keep you like this for a little while before revealing the big surprise. Seeing you flustered and confused is a very cute look on you, after all. But, he’s gotten you this far and it would absolutely kill him to leave you on such a bad notice. It’s now early evening, and the sun’s just starting to set enough that the golden rays illuminate your features from this angle. It takes Satoru back to his first private meeting with you on the balcony and he remembers why he’s even doing this in the first place.

Carefully and slowly, he slips down the blindfold and softly calls out your name. “Hey, take a look around you.”

Your eyes are blown wide when you see his face. Anger and frustration dissipate from your face when you soon realize that Satoru carries a soft expression. He watches as the emotions wash off as quickly as they came. Then, you finally take a look around your surroundings and gasp. “You—You did all of this for me?”

Satoru tenses a little, a bit on the edge. “You want the short or long answer?”

You don’t notice because you’re too preoccupied with the numerous fake flamingos around you. “On second thought, maybe no answer would also work.”

He laughs at this, slightly, before turning shy again. He feels silly, ashamed, and it makes his cheeks flush. “I wanted to say sorry again for what I said earlier.”

“You finally want to talk about it?”

He looks at your idle hands and then back to your face. When he sees that you don't move them away as he inches closer, he takes both of them into his palms, giving them a tight squeeze. “Yeah, I was a big idiot and I thought I was trying to help in the beginning but I just sounded—no, I am—a giant ass.” Satoru concludes.

The atmosphere grows quiet and heavy again. The air humid and thick despite the opened windows and you’re looking at him. Then, there are tiny little smiles that break out on your face, like freckles and stars in the sky.

“You’re such a pillow princess,” and he outright blushes ten shades darker at the nickname, “you’re lucky you’re cute.” Coming from you, that’s as good as a love confession.

I like you, he thinks, but doesn’t say it. He really likes you and doesn’t want to fuck this up.

But, everyone knows that Satoru Gojo is a child at heart.

Satoru doesn’t know who gives in first; realistically, it might’ve been one of those stupid, rare, impossible moments where it’s completely shared. Suddenly the gaudy blow up palm trees and inflatable pool blur from his vision and he feels the world roaring around him when your palms rest on his cheeks. He ducks his head down but you’re the one who closes the distance between.

You taste like strawberries and lavender, smell like warm cocoa, and feel softer than any sherpa blanket he’s had. Satoru closes his eyes and his vision goes white, his hands shakily snake around your waist, pressing you hard against his chest as if you might disappear at any moment. Satoru sighs into the kiss, it feels pleasantly warm, that throb in his chest, it’s a slow, steady thrum of simmering desire and comfort. He’s pretty sure he’s adding way too much tongue, the drool and saliva that comes dripping between you two will be uncomfortable soon, but for now, it adds to the blissed out, satisfaction you’re both basking in.

Finally, you pull away, shortening yourself a good several inches from planting the rest of your feet on the ground. Your eyes are glossed over, watery and looking at him without vexation. “You’re something else.” You say, but there’s no bite.

Satoru doesn’t speak for a moment. He’s too focused on the feeling of your warm fingers sprawled all over his heating face. Too focused on the dull pulse of both nervousness and infatuation slowly spreading through his body because you’re giving him that look. This all feels romantic and stupid, he thinks.

“I’m sorry, again.” The words are quiet, hesitant, and Satoru almost regrets them the moment he speaks.

You shift around a little, now dancing on the balls of your feet, but the grasp you have on his cheeks is still relatively firm, even applying a bit of more pressure as if it’s your way of showing reassurance. You tip your head; your eyes are so vivid and bright, it sends a shiver down Satoru’s spine. In this moment, he remembers every single thing between them in shocking detail — the awkwardness, the tension, the frustration, the dumb banters, and suddenly he’s overwhelmed.

“I’ll forgive you if you give me a private city tour,” you laugh. “And come back to work with us again next year.”

Satoru offers a small smile. “Unpaid?”

“Will you say no if it is?”

He hugs you tighter, a chuckle bubbles in his throat. “I don’t think I can say no because it’s you.”

Though, while some might think that Satoru is the real loser here for being whipped so hard over a small town girl, you know that deep down the real loser is you. Because you managed to have the son of a CEO wrapped around your fingers and now you will never know peace again. But you’re not really complaining; instead, you’re working even harder to save just enough to eventually see your dream destination while Satoru whines and sends an ungodly amount of selfies everyday when he’s back home. And you won’t allow yourself to get snappy because, well, you’re very much head over heels for him, too.

#event: i got my eyes on youೄྀ࿐ˊˎ #doobea writing #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #satoru gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen x female reader

3K notes · View notes

kaijuposting · 9 months

Text

"Saw traps for people with moral OCD" is a phrase that has embedded myself into my brain because, well, Saw traps for people with moral OCD are everywhere.

Stuff that basically amounts to...

"You have to listen to my opinions on [issue], or else you don't care about [issue]. (Constantly talks about how people like you are the absolute worst.)"

Anything that's functionally like, "you have to let me tear you down over things you can't control or you're a bad person."

Anything that's functionally like, "you have to let me vent to you whenever and however I want or else you're a bad person."

"If you enjoy X media/trope, you just hate Y people."

"Everyone knows that X thing is harmful/hateful; if you engaged in it, it's just because you were fine with perpetuating hate/harm."

"You should have just known better/should know this already!"

This thread over here talks about the inherent issues of putting this kind of stuff out there. The TL;DR is that it really only works on people who are mentally unwell and have poor boundaries, while just pissing off everyone else. It really doesn't matter if you're technically correct; you're still attacking people, and that means they're not wrong to block you.

I think that many of these Saw traps are created when people effectively write posts directed toward people who don't want to help, rather than the ones who do. Like, if you catch yourself writing an angry, shame-laden post, ask yourself: who are you writing it for and what are the odds you're going to change their minds? If your mental image is some smug fuck or angry reactionary, you're writing for the wrong person. Write for the person who's curious, who's willing to learn.

Also? Work on figuring out how to transmute negative feelings into positive, encouraging rhetoric. EG:

"Why is there no X positivity?" -> "Let's hear it for X!"

"No one cares about Y problem!" -> "Hey, we need more recognition of Y problem" or "I haven't seen many people talking about Y problem, so here's some info on what's up."

"If you don't reblog this, you don't care about [group]" -> "Please reblog this, it would mean a lot for us [group]."

And if you're really super duper frustrated and want to vent with a lot of nasty words and sentiments? Consider taking it to a private vent channel or a journal or somewhere that a stranger with moral OCD/scrupulosity isn't likely to run across it.

Remember, most people don't want to hurt anyone. More people are ignorant than malicious. People naturally want to do the right thing, so if you feel like you have to guilt them or shame them into it, there's probably a fundamental communication issue somewhere, or they simply lack the context to understand why what you're saying is so important.

#moral ocd #mental health #mental illness #ableism #scrupulosity #scrupulosity ocd #abuse #emotional abuse #communication

5K notes · View notes

simonsslut · 7 months

Text

meeting simon in the army.

18+ MDNI || nsfw || f!reader || oneshot/drabble || masterlist

wc: around 4.8k

cw: eventual smut, unprotected p in v, lil massage trope, spit kink, simon being his own enemy, reader being oblivious, simon loves tits, simon’s kinda mean at first but sweet at the end-ish, not proofread.

Lieutenant Riley is familiar with the process of adding a new addition to their little task force. but just because he's familiar with it, doesn't mean he's a fan of it.

a new member, a new person means that he has to most likely deal with another soap of sorts. don't get it wrong, he's okay with soap, but that doesn't mean he enjoys the constant questions soap seems to ask about him, even when he knows they irritate him, but that won't stop his curiosity.

you're confident when you show up to the meeting room, nothing new. recruits are either confident in themselves or they're completely terrified and it'll be written all over their faces.

soap is quick to befriend you, both of you snipers and demolition experts after all. it gives him a whole new buddy to talk with. simon takes this as a good sign, maybe he won't have to spend much time showing your around and telling you about the team and how things work here if soap is gonna spend all his time with you. right? wrong.

Price assigns soap on a mission with another task force soap had recently worked with before TF141. meaning that Simon is going to have to spend every free waking moment he has with you. and for a guy like Simon, this is hell. but don't take it the wrong way, he's like this with everyone.

you're quick to find the large man rude, dismissive. you'll ask barely personal questions and he'll shrug it off and blatantly ignore you. will roll his eyes or just walk away mid-conversation (which was one-sided anyway).

maybe you talked too much? had you asked him too many questions? maybe he just didn't like you for absolutely zero reason. you decided to stop thinking too much about it. you didn't do anything wrong, maybe he's just a natural-born asshole.

Soap had mentioned something about the lieutenant having a stick somewhere deep up his ass and to not worry too much about how he treats you.

however, after telling yourself you'd stop losing sleep over it, you continued.

maybe he just wasn't used to having a woman on his team. They are all men after all. but that wouldn't be professional, plus the others aren't like that with you. they kinda just treat you like their own. they knew about your background, and what you have done, and they respected you for it, so why couldn't he?

simon knows better than most about your background, he had to study your file after Price mentioned your recruitment.

"weapons of choice - melee; knives, axe."

a shared opinion.

he trains with you to see how advanced you really are. weapon training and all that is fine, but sparring? this has to be a joke. that mountain of a man versus you? you've got muscle to you, yeah, but even soap going against simon is an evident loss. and soap is a big guy.

you start off with Gaz. he's also tall and well built, but he's the more common build of soldiers. you guys spar for an hour, or two, and then you take a break.

you don't think much about who your next spar round will be with, so the anxiousness doesn't begin to settle in until ghost's rough voice calls you over to the mat. he's the only one there. and it settles in.

you look over at Gaz and the look on his face is one of pity, your face drops.

it's not even 30 seconds into the round when you're already dropped to the ground. the mat feels like concrete when you hit your back on it.

"c'mon, get up." ghost says in an almost pissed off way.

you groan and roll over, quickly getting back up on your feet. "no mercy?" you ask in a huff. "you won't get mercy when you're fighting for your life in the field, you should know this, sergeant." he states dryly, but the way he said 'sergeant' sounded like an insult rolling off his tongue.

after 30 minutes of repeatedly losing, you admit defeat. but at least he stays with you after hours when the others have left, leaving you both alone so you don't have to keep losing in front of a crowd.

3 months of dry responses, frequent scoldings, straight-up constant attitude from the man and not many interactions besides from when he was ordering you around or lecturing you about a fuck up in training or on a mission.

and even though he wouldn't interact with you much, it somehow seemed that he was always on your ass, always watching to see what your next fuck up would be, always so observant. because why the hell were his eyes always on you? every time you'd glance over at him, he'd already be looking at you with that dark 1000-yard stare, arms crossed and sitting across any room you were in at the moment.

3 months is what it takes for him to not act like a complete brooding asshole towards you even for just a moment. reason? you saved his life.

sort of.

simon was clearing a wide area in a warehouse on a mission and it seems one of the men there seemed to blend in far better than anyone else could. Simon was almost too late, almost the one standing at the receiving end of a bullet to the head, but you had him. and you saved him.

neither of you thought too much about it though, after all, it is your job to have each other's backs in the field. he only gave you a gruff "thank you" when he brushed passed you towards the exit. but you took that thank you as a sign that he didn't absolutely despise you like you had thought he did for the past 3 months.

or so you thought. not much changed afterwards. but at least whenever you'd start a conversation, he'd just stare at you instead of walking off. but he'd always stay quiet. you wanted to give up, you should've given up. but something deep inside you had you pushing.

what it was wasn't so obvious at the time.

but that's probably because you were so oblivious.

you didn't know him like the boys did, you were new. so no one could've blamed you for not seeing the obvious frustration you caused him. soap on the other hand thought it was bloody comedic.

you always assumed the triple checks on your comms and positions were just because he didn't trust you enough to know what you were doing. because why would you think anything else with the way he behaved towards you?

the way he'd suddenly appear when a private was up and flirting with you. he'd come and scold you for having chitchat when you should've been doing paperwork, his jaw tensed. he'd look behind you to give the private a glare that you would've assumed was a 'get back to work' glare and not the threatening glare it actually was, because why would you think otherwise?

when you all went out to the pub for a drink after a long exhausting mission to relax a bit, but you hadn't had alcohol in so long so you didn't think to slow down, eventually blacking out on Simon's shoulder, and ending up in your quarters at the end of the night, boots off and snuggly tucked in under your sheets.

what you did notice is that you'd never be assigned to missions that ghost wasn't on. you caught on eventually but you never mentioned it, too annoyed with him to start an argument you knew you'd lose.

but when you're all at the pub on another night, soap and gaz over by the pool table, drunkenly betting against each other, and price long gone back to the base and having called it an early night, leaving the two of you at the table alone, it slips out.

he's been ignoring your attempted starts of a conversation all night, the alcohol had given you the motivation you needed to try again, but you've had enough of the silent treatment.

"hey, i've noticed I only go on missions that you're on.." he tenses. "'s that because you don't trust me? or somethin?"

he doesn't respond as per usual, and you know he's already annoyed with you but you keep pushing.

"you can be a real prick, y'know?" you mumble out, earning a side glance from him, his hand on the table, fingers tapping on his empty glass. he stays quiet.

"I just don't understand why you dislike me or whatever. I haven't done anything to you personally, I don't think.." you trail off, furrowing your brows as if in thought. he just stares down at you.

"you're a real pain in my ass" you then state rather confidently. he raises his brow at this before looking down at his empty glass and muttering a "Seems we've got that in common."

you roll your eyes and groan, moving to grab your beer but he moves it further up the table before you can reach it.

"hey-" you start but he interrupts, "you've 'ad enough." he grumbles out and you scoff, standing up from the chair and walking over to where Soap and Gaz are laughing it up with each other.

but maybe he's had a bit too much to drink too.

because the moment a man starts flirting with you at the bar, his hand just a bit too touchy, Simon appears, his hand is gripping the man's shoulder and pulling him back with an angered "back off."

you can't even manage out a "what the hell-?" before he's grabbing your bicep and dragging you out of the pub. you stop protesting rather quickly, too tired to continue. you just let him drag you all the way back to the base where he only lets go of you when he reaches the doorstep of your barracks building.

"sleep. now. don't wanna deal with your lazy tired ass tomorrow when you're moping around because you didn't get enough rest." he grunts out before abruptly turning in his place and leaving.

it's the next week when you're in the break room sitting across from Soap who's on his phone and drinking his coffee when you voice your troubles. "I can't deal with him anymore, Soap, really. he gives me such a hard time and I don't understand why," you practically whine to him.

"bloke doesn't know what to do with you when you practically give him a hard on all the time." he says it so plainly. as if it's a common fact, no big deal.

though you, of course, take it as a joke.

"Oh shut up, I'm serious." you groan through a chuckle and he just looks up at you and smirks before excusing himself to go back to his duties, leaving you there to mope at the wall.

the hell does that even mean?

luckily for you, you forget all about your short conversion in the break room, your mind too occupied from the busy week to care about a little dumb joke that soap told.

maybe you should've sat to think about said joke for longer.

you zone out while you do paperwork, your mind running on autopilot so that you don't pay attention to the time on the clock running past 11:30pm.

you hands hurt. your wrists hurt. and your back is sore from uncomfortably hunching over this old desk in this dinky chair that doesn't even spin properly.

you're too tired and too caught up in mentally complaining about everything to notice the tall figure standing in the doorway of the office you're working.

so when he speaks, voice baritone and accent thick, it scares the absolute living shit out of you. letting out a short yell and flinging your pen across the room, you look over at him.

you roll your eyes, too tired to even deal with him right now, preparing for him to lecture you about how sleeping late is bad for you even though literally everyone on base knows that he has the most fucked schedule of them all.

"I know it's late, I don't wanna hear it. this is the only free time I had to do this." you explain, your voice low and tired.

"didn't say anything." he responds and you glare up at him, and he knows.

he walks across the room and picks up the pen that you flung, his heavy steps making their way over to you and handing you back your pen.

he hasn't done or said anything threatening, so then why does it feel like he did?

you whisper a small 'thank you' before looking back down at your sheet and writing a few things down. he just stands there, staring down at your with crossed arms, observing. always observing. that's all he does. all he ever does.

you try to not let it get to you but he's just so intimidating.

you clench your jaw and breathe for a moment before focusing back on your paper. but just as you do that, he rounds the desk and stands behind your chair.

he grabs the chair, pulling it back a bit before his voice demands out, "stand,". you don't hesitate a moment before standing up quickly.

silence.

why does it feel like ages before he finally speaks??

"you're tense." he states and you furrow your brows because what the hell is happening. "y-yeah, I guess?"

the air is thick.

you're so caught up in empty thoughts that you don't hear what he says. "sorry, what'd you say?" you ask but it comes out a whisper without you intending for it to.

"may I?"

you're not sure what he means but you still slowly nod.

you suddenly freeze and your eyes go wide when you feel his palm wrap around your hair and move it to the side, his other hand resting in the crevice between your shoulder and neck, bare.

he's not wearing the glove.

his hand is warm when he suddenly squeezes you there, checking to see just how tense you are and your mind is blank. your thoughts have evaporated and you can't fucking move, because what the hell is happening!?

"why're you so bloody tense?" he asks, his voice so fucking deep that it makes your skin warm up. you've always hated the effect that his voice alone has on you.

'maybe because you're touching me?' is what you think to yourself.

"I don't know? work?" you sound so unsure of yourself that it feels embarrassing.

he mutters a quiet "yeah." while he continues to massage the area.

you wouldn't say this is a complete 180º from the way he's been treating you for the past couple months, but... this is a complete fucking 180º from the way he's been treating you these past couple months.

but you can't deny how fucking good it feels. his hands are so big and warm. the roughness of them surprisingly adding so much more to the massage and it feels so. good.

you can't help the slight moan that escapes your lips when you dip your head forward, giving him more space to work with.

ghost would halt his movements but that would only make you suspicious of what's happening to him behind you he clenches his jaw hard, his entire body tensing as he feels his pants grow tight and fuck is he fighting back a groan.

he did this to himself. he should've just minded his business and muttered an order to you like he usually would. he should've put up the asshole act instead of strolling in and offering a goddamn massage because he would never in his right mind actually do this.

he's barely slept for the past three days, so he doesn't really have control over his own actions, especially when it comes to you. it's always you that gets him like this, only you.

it's quiet for so long while he just massages your shoulders. usually It would be awkward, but this time it's just comfortable.

when he finishes, his hands remain and you start to actually snap back to reality on where you are, who's behind you, and what's going on. you don't move, hell you barely breathe. how could you when you could feel every breath he takes hit the skin on the back of your neck or how you can feel the heat radiating off of him while he stands behind you as if he's a human furnace or something.

there's always been tension. whether it was negative or positive, you were never completely 100% sure which. but it was always there. and it bothered the fuck out of the both of you.

you feel his thumb caress your nape. just a small movement. you wouldn't've noticed if you weren't hyper focused on every fibre of his being standing right behind you, not caring for your personal space despite him always getting pissed about not having enough of his own.

you don't know how to move on from this moment. there're no words in your mouth, your body frozen still under his gaze, under his touch.

you want to say something, anything. but you don't know what.

"ghost," you start, but he doesn't answer, he just rubs his thumb over again. "ghost." you try again.

silence.

"simon." he stops.

"what are you doing?" you turn your head to the side when you whisper this, looking at him stand behind you out the corner of your eye, and he stares right back.

after his silence, you go to move but he stops you, his hands grabbing your arms and keeping you in place. you go to shake him off but when you lean your body back, you feel something against your ass and your breath hitches.

he shuts his eyes and clenches his jaw, he knows you felt it, and he knows he's fucked when he lets out a quiet groan.

"it seems you’ve been stressed too..." you mumble out and his grip on you only tightens. you don't think before you nudge your ass against him again but with purpose and his breathing stutters.

"Don't." he demands through gritted teeth, but you only do it again and he doesn't stop you.

he then pushes you forward and you gasp, your crotch hitting the desk edge as you bend over the desk.

he doesn't do anything for a few moments as he thinks over what he's doing. he's your superior. this is wrong. so why does it feel so good to drag his hand down your back.

he then suddenly lets go of you and backs up, confusing you in the process. you stand back up and turn to stare at him, your brows furrowed and you open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

the way you look at him, it's as if there's hope in your eyes and that only spurs him on to do what he does next. he moves his hand up to raise the bottom of his mask up to rest just over his nose. he then quickly loops his arm around your waist and pulls you in for your lips to meet his in a kiss born off of sexual frustration.

you're quick to wrap one of your arms around his neck, not caring at all for what this means because god it feels so good.

he groans against your lips and pushes you back against the desk, lifting you a bit to sit you down on it before he mumbles against your lips.

"you gon' let me do this?"

the man, your lieutenant, your superior who you thought hated you so damn much for the longest time, is asking for your permission as his hand squeezes your thigh.

this is crazy. all of this is crazy. yet you nod.

he spreads your thighs with his hands and stands between them while his mouth moves from your lips down to your jaw and then to your neck, his lips hot and wet against you.

you let him push you back until your back is flat against the desk, his hand moving to grab your hip to keep you in place just as he likes while his other hand loops under the waist band of your pants and palms you over your panties.

you can't help but whimper when he does this which only turns him on more. and he grunts against your neck when he removes his hand only to grind his covered bulge against you.

you huff out as he continues to grind against you, growing in need when heat begins to pool in your core while his hands grip at you tightly as if you'd disappear if he let go. and he's not about to risk that when he finally has you right where he wants you.

you pull at his clothes, a whine slipping from your lips and he knows what you want. one of his hands moves to slide your shirt up your stomach and you let him. when he does get the shirt off of you, he doesn't even go to unclip your bra, instead his hand moves to grab the front of your bra and drags it down, your tits falling out.

he grabs one of your tits and mouths it, sucking, while his other hand moves to pull your pants down.

he backs up and fully pulls your pants off before he's back on you, mouth on your tit while his left hand plays with the other and his right hand slips under the fabric of your panties, feeling how soaked you are.

his thumb applies pressure on your clit which has you already gasping and arching into his touch.

he teases you a bit, wanting to see how desperate you'd get before he actually fucks you with his cock. he slips a digit in and groans against your nipple when he feels how your wet warmth clenches around just his finger.

he adds another and then another, wanting to stretch you out enough for him to squeeze in.

he curls and thrusts his fingers in you, getting to that spongey spot in you that has you moaning and throwing your head back against the desk, whining fro him to finally put it in.

"y'want me?" he asks but you can't even reply.

"I asked if y'want me, love." his voice is gravel when he repeats himself, wanting an answer out of you before he takes this further.

you nod, frantic and and grinding against his palm for more friction against your clit. "y-yes, yes sir, please-" you answer and he feels his cock twitch in his pants.

he moves his lips back up to your neck and removes his hands from you, undoing his pants and pulling himself out, precum beading at his red tip.

you whimper at the sight of it. it's obvious to see how big of a man simon is in general, he's huge. and it seems that so is everything else about him.

he doesn't bother to remove your panties as he's too impatient. instead he just moves them to the side, his finger running down your slit before he brings it to his mouth to get a taste of you, letting out a satisfied hum.

he then brings his hand up to you and orders, "spit", and you do.

he pumps himself a few times to wet it before he aligns with your slit and you inhale when he starts to push in, stretching you out so perfectly for him. so fucking big.

he takes his time pushing into you, his warm breath against your neck when he groans as he bottoms out, deep inside you. “so fucking tight…” he groans through gritted teeth.

you clench around him, your hands slipping under the fabric of his shirt and your nails clawing at the skin on his back, wanting him to move already as you grow impatient and needy.

he does just that, drawing his hips back before thrusting back into you resulting in a yelp from you. and he doesn't stop.

his pace is already above slow and picking up with each time he hammers back into you, curses and moans falling from his lips like he's in heaven, because he is.

your lips meet his again and you moan into his mouth with each thrust. he makes out with you like a man starved, like he's been wanting this for so long…you under him while he fucks into you like it's the last thing he'll ever do.

the only sounds in the room being the squelching of your pussy as he thrusts into you and both of your moans. if anyone was walking down the hallway at this hour which is unlikely, they'd most definitely hear what you two are doing.

he moves his hand down and presses his thumb to your clit while he continues to fuck into you, rubbing it in circles which has you crying out through moans, tears of pleasure threatening to spill out the corners of your eyes.

your breathing becomes ragged as your back arches deeper into him, your hips bucking against his to meet his pace while he groans and nips at the skin on your neck, “takin’ me so well… s’ fuckin good f’me…” he moans and it sets your skin on fire.

he's close and so are you.

your fingers move under the back of the mask to pull at his short hair and he let's you do it, trusting you to not pull the mask off.

your lips against his ear, letting him hear all your pretty sounds and it only drives him further, his pace keeping steady, knowing just what you need when you moan out "i'm close..so close.." and he knows it too as he feels you clench tightly around him.

he surprises you when he places his thumb in your mouth when you moan, flattening it against your tongue and grunting a “open f’me, yeah?” and you do without hesitation, opening your mouth nice and wide enough for him to spit on your tongue. he doesn’t even have to tell you to swallow before you do it automatically, earning a smirk from him before he kisses you again.

the combination of his thumb rubbing in circles against your clit and him hammering into you has your body stuttering and spasming, feeling like you're getting possessed as you let out a strangled and broken quiet scream as you finally come undone beneath him, your vision going for a few moments while he fucks you through your orgasm.

you continue to moan when he keeps pumping into you after your orgasm, chasing his own high while he grunts out "'m gonna come... gonna come on your tummy, love.." before he quickly pulls out of you, leaning back up and pumping his cock a few times before he releases his load on your stomach followed by his heavy breaths.

he stares at you for a moment, his chest rising and lowering in heavy breaths before he leans over you to grab the tissue box in the corner of the desk and wipes his cum off of you.

he puts your panties back in place and steps back, handing you your pants. he shoves his cock back into his pants and then watches you pull yours back on, his arms crossed.

now that the foggy feeling in your mind is gone, you're shy as you stand under his gaze.

you just fucked your lieutenant.

he licks his lip before pulling the mask back down and sitting back onto the chair. you're confused for a moment before he nods his head in the direction of the door and mutters a "go t'sleep. it's late."

you look at the door and then back at him, furrowing your brows in confusion. "but my paperwork-" he interrupts you before you can finish your sentence. "I'll do your paperwork. now go to bed. tha's an order." he instructs and you stand there absolutely dumbfounded before you actually register his words.

you slowly nod and he clenches his jaw before he looks at the short stack of paperwork on the side of the desk, grabbing one and beginning to work on it, but you're still there.

"thought I told you t-" he pauses when you lean down to place a kiss on the fabric over where his temple is, taking him by surprise as it shuts him up.

you then give him a sweet smile, your hand sliding down his muscular arm before you turn around and walk out the small office, leaving him to do your paperwork after he fucked you so well just a moment ago on that very desk.

simon experiencing blue balls too many times in secret bc he's stubborn.

3K notes · View notes

triptuckers · 4 months

Text

keep the nightmares away - percy jackson

Request: nope Pairing: Percy Jackson x reader Summary: oh nooo what if there's only one bed........ (im a sucker for this trope and WILL use it whenever I can) Warnings: mentions of wounds, swearing, nightmares Word count: 1.5K A/N: yall know that audio from the rock "it's about drive it's about power we stay hungry we devour" that's me writing more fics in two days than I have in 6 months. I blame it on my percy jackson hyperfixation. enjoy!

you were so exhausted you could barely keep your eyes open. you'd been sent on another quest and had been chased down by monsters for gods know how many times already.

everyone was tired and just wanted to go to bed. but a prophecy had predicted there would be three demigods and a fourth companion on this quest, so it wasn't easy to leave the monsters behind.

'why did we have to be four?' you say softly as you force yourself to keep on walking. 'it would be way more quiet if there were only three of us.'

percy looks over his shoulder in front of you. 'I don't think quests are ever quiet.' he says with a smile.

'you know what I mean.' you say. 'are we there yet?'

'almost.' says annabeth, who is walking with grover in front of percy, holding the map and leading the way. 'it's just over the ridge.'

'thank the gods.' you mutter.

you know annabeth is going to state the facts rather than make something sound good. and sure enough, when you reach the top of the ridge you can see a dimly lit street in the distance.

you can see the motel you're headed for, a diner, and a gas station with a small store.

you're filled with relief of the thought of finally laying down and resting your feet. you could rewrap your wounds and maybe even take a shower if you're lucky and have the energy for it.

'come on, nearly there.' says percy, reaching out and gently tugging you along by your wrist.

if you weren't so tired you'd be reeling over the fact percy is holding your wrist so gently. but all you can think of is how soft the beds would be.

when you get to the motel you're too tired to speak. you let annabeth do all of the talking.

after a few minutes she returns with two keys.

'these are the only ones they had available.' she says, giving percy one.

'come on.' says percy. 'want me to rewrap your arm?'

you nod. a few hours ago, you got your arm sliced open and had to hastily wrap it. you're not very good at it, as the cut is on the back of your upper arm and you can't see it very well.

'grover and I will check the area quickly and then we can all get some rest.' says annabeth. 'regroup in my room at 8 am tomorrow?'

'sure.' says percy while you and grover nod.

you follow percy as he's searching for the room. eventually he stops and you nearly bump into him.

'sorry.' you mutter.

'it's alright.' says percy as he unlocks the door and lets you enter first.

you stop in the door opening, looking at the room.

'what's wrong?' says percy, looking over your shoulder. 'oh.'

yeah. oh. there's only one bed. not even a sofa.

you enter the room and percy shuts the door behind him. of course there's only one bed. and you're so exhausted. you can tell percy is tired as well. he's just better at hiding it.

'come on, let me take care of your arm.' says percy.

you head into the bathroom while percy rummages around his pack for the medical kit.

'sit on the counter.' he says as he enters the bathroom with the medical kit in his hands.

you do as he instructs and rest the back of your head against the mirror. you close your eyes but open them when percy lightly taps your knee.

'need you awake for this. you can sleep after.' he says softly.

you sigh. 'fine.'

'I know you're exhausted. I'll make it quick.'

'thanks, perce.'

percy ignores the way he feels when you call him that. he wonders if you know you're the only one that ever calls him that.

he washes his hands and then gently unwraps the old bandage around your arm. he carefully cleans the cut and starts on rewrapping it, making sure he's not hurting you.

when he's almost done, he feels a weight on his shoulder. he smiles to himself, letting you doze off on his shoulder. he's nearly done, anyway.

he secures the last bit of the bandage and then nudges you awake.

'sorry.' you say, blinking a few times.

'let's get you to the bed.' says percy, offering his hand so you can hop off the counter. 'you can take the first shift.'

you frown. 'first shift?'

'sleeping in the bed.'

'where will you sleep?'

'on the floor. I'll get the pillows off of the chair.'

you shake your head. 'percy, you're tired as well. you've fought just as much as I have. you'll only make it worse by sleeping on the floor. we can share.' you say.

sharing a bed as friends, that's cool right? not a big deal. at least that's what you tell yourself.

percy studies your face. he probably looks as tired as you do.

'it's big enough for the two of us.' you say, reaching down to take off your boots.

'alright.' says percy.

there's a knock on the door and both you and percy freeze. percy reaches inside of his pocket, ready to take out riptide.

'it's me.' says annabeth on the other side. 'all clear. get some rest.'

'thanks, goodnight annabeth.' says percy, visibly relaxing.

you walk over to the bed and lay down on the left side, leaving enough space for percy.

'if I find you on the floor when I wake up I'll make the rest of the quest even more miserable for you.' you mumble as you close your eyes. 'don't be a gentleman.'

'noted.' says percy with a smile, laying down on the other side of the bed, careful to leave more than enough space between the two of you.

it's cool, this is fine. laying next to you in a bed. nothing that could happen, you're just friends. right?

after a while, he can tell you're asleep by the slow breathing coming from your side of the bed.

he's keeping his distance, even if it means he nearly falls off of the bed. he's mind is spinning in circles about the fact you're laying right next to him.

but eventually, he falls asleep. after all, all four of you were utterly exhausted when you reached the motel earlier in the night.

it feels like way too soon when he's woken up again. he frowns, it's still dark outside. he shifts to get comfortable again. but then he feels something hard poke him in his ribs.

'oof.' he grunts softly, then rolls over to see if you're awake. why would you punch him in the middle of the night?

but when he sees you, he noticed your face is scrunched up in agony and you're mumbling something.

he frowns and watches you move around restlessly, nearly hitting him again.

but his frown disappears soon enough. he knows the feeling all too well.

you're having a nightmare.

a bad one, by the looks of it.

gently, he reaches out and pushes a strand of sweaty hair out of your face, then nudges your shoulder.

'hey, wake up.'

in response, you curl up even more so percy shakes you again, a little harder this time.

you wake up and immediately sit up, eyes wide in panic. your hand is scrambling for you belt, where you keep your knives.

'woah, hey, it's alright you're safe, you're with me.' says percy, holding your shoulders and forcing you to look at him.

his sea-green eyes are familiar and calm you down a little. you're breathing heavily and fully aware of percy holding on to your shoulders. you force yourself to push away from him, creating space between the two of you.

'I'm alright.' you say, closing your eyes and shaking your head slightly. you would not cry over something as stupid as a nightmare.

'want to talk about it?' says percy softly.

'no I'm fine.'

'talking mostly helps me.'

you sigh and start to fidget with your fingers. why does it feel so embarrassing? you're sure lots of demigods have nightmares, given what you go through on a daily basis.

'it was the gods.' you start. 'I'd failed some sort of quest and they let loose their powers on me. camp half-blood got destroyed. I couldn't find annabeth and grover. there was fire everywhere and you... fuck.'

'it's okay.' says percy softly, encouraging you to go on.

'I found you in the rubble of your cabin.' you whisper.

'shit, I'm sorry.'

'it's alright, I'm alright. you're here now.'

'you think you can try going back to sleep again?'

'yeah, I can try.'

the two of you lay down again, this time with a little less space between you.

'percy?' you say, slowly reaching out to him.

'yeah?'

'is it okay if I...?'

wordlessly, percy reaches out and pulls you against him, where you curl up against his side.

'thanks.' you say, feeling yourself relax again.

'I'll keep the nightmares away.' mumbles percy.

you smile to yourself, closing your eyes and letting percy's heartbeat lull you to sleep. you're confident nightmares wouldn't find you again. you're safe now.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit/Max

3K notes · View notes

phntmeii · 7 months

Text

⭐️ OPLA Characters and the “Only One Bed” Trope

[Suggestive + No Gendered Terms]

⭐️ Characters Featured: Luffy, Zoro, Nami, Sanji, Mihawk

⭐️ A/N: So... Maybe just the part one to this if people like it? I'll write the next part with the other characters if people want it :) Anyway, cranking out these compilation posts because I’m brain broken with just OPLA content.

Monkey D. Luffy

✖️ Luffy didn’t show any concern about there being one bed. He saw it as something to find fun in a way! To share a bed with one of his friends!

✖️ He’s immediately jumping into the bed and turning to you, holding out his arms, waiting for you.

✖️ “I promise not to take up too much space! Come on!”

✖️ Luffy is immediately wrapping himself around you like a little backpack, nuzzling his head into your neck.

✖️ “M’so soft…” while his hand gently caressed your belly, gently grabbing and massaging it.

✖️ When he felt himself half-asleep, he didn't notice how he was trailing small kisses at your shoulder and the back of your neck. It was like an unconscious habit shining through.

✖️His arms around you are tightly clung so it’s safe to say that you aren’t leaving the bed until he lets you. And he just might not all night.

Roronoa Zoro

✖️ Zoro is immediately refusing. The moment he saw one bed in the room, he spun on his heels and walked out to try and complain.

✖️ When there really was no other rooms, he entered back inside with an annoyed look.

✖️ “Just… *sigh*. Take the bed. I’ll be fine”

✖️ Maybe he could just lay on the floor instead in his mind. Even when you offered to share, he refused. But, he soon found that the discomfort wasn’t worth it.

✖️ He carefully climbed into the bed, taking up the minimum he could at the edge. When he was drifting asleep, he didn’t notice his hands reach out for you, pulling your body toward his.

✖️ As if you were a stuffed animal, he pressed your body to his and hugged you close.

✖️ His tired voice just hushed you when you tried to ask what he was doing as his hands moved toward your chest. “Shh… Jus’… You’re warm.”

✖️ After your restless night together, the next morning, he acts as if he has no idea what you’re talking about when you ask him about last night.

Nami

✖️ Nami is annoyed but won’t make a big deal out of it. She’ll roll her eyes and complain while setting her stuff down.

✖️ “Let’s just… do what we can. It’s only for one night. You take that side, I’ll take this side.”

✖️ She didn't want to make you uncomfortable or overstep boundaries. Keeping on her side, facing away from you.

✖️ She soon heard you rustling around in the bed, unable to keep still, she was annoyed but asked what was wrong. "Nami... I just- Sorry, I can't sleep."

✖️ Nami's face softened in realization. Sighing, she scooted closer and pulled you into her, holding you close. Her hands gently rubbed your back.

✖️ "It's okay. I can make you feel better." She let her hands lightly caress your sides, trailing up to your neck then cheek. "C'mon, I'll help tire you out."

Vinsmoke Sanji

✖️ Sanji immediately smirked at the sight of one bed but on the inside, was absolutely dying from embarrassment at the idea of being so close to you.

✖️ He immediately laid in bed, hands behind his head with a cocky look. "Already nervous, beautiful? It's only one night..."

✖️ You were used to Sanji's flirting and mainly ignored it since he was like that with everyone. You weren't inherently special in your head.

✖️ The moment you relaxed into the bed on your side, facing away from Sanji, Sanji was laid on his side, eyes to your back. He hesitated to do anything but stare, but he couldn't help it. A phantom touch of his fingers lightly traced your spine.

✖️ You were initially going to complain like you normally did until Sanji scooted closer, placing a kiss at your shoulder. His hand lightly rubbing your arm.

✖️ You heard that ever-familiar teasing, soft laugh behind you. He enjoyed your reactions to his simple touches.

✖️ "You're so stiff... It's just my hands, you know? I just want... I need to feel you."

Dracule Mihawk

✖️ Mihawk stared at the bed indifferently. It was an inconvenience but certainly not something he was going to fuss about. It's just a bed.

✖️ He placed his belongings aside, getting ready for bed and slipping under the covers. When he saw you looking to instead sleep on the floor with your bag as a makeshift pillow, he didn't say anything.

✖️ Laying in bed, Mihawk always found it difficult to drift to sleep, as though he was meant to be tormented by the mere idea of sleep.

✖️ Maybe an hour had gone by and he looked over to see you still on the floor, huddled into yourself. He sighed loudly. "Stop forcing yourself to freeze. Lay down here."

✖️ Seeing you carefully slip under the covers as well, he looked over at you, eyes scanning your face then raking down your body.

✖️ Mihawk reached out with his hand, pulling you closer to him until your face was inches away from his. His stare was critical still, as it always was.

✖️ His hand went to the back of your head, gently caressing you. “I can warm you up, if you’d like me to. Lay back.”

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

#opla x reader #opla zoro x reader #opla headcanons #opla x y/n #opla x you #opla sanji x reader #opla mihawk x reader #opla luffy x reader #opla nami x reader #opla nami #opla zoro #opla luffy #opla sanji #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n

4K notes · View notes

maddy-ferguson · 1 year

Text

literatis and rogans really be having a "who made rory feel worse" off

#gilmore girling #they both made her feel like shit. at least 90% of logan stans don't pretend he's perfect and a great boyfriend the way team jess #people do🙏#i mean. we actually SEE logan be a great boyfriend so there's no need to pretend he is #really can't say the same about jess #but whatever i don't care. i really don't but i think it's funny that there's still a bit of a ship war going on when the truth is neither #relationship is perfect and they both make her feel awful at times the only difference is logan and rory actually grow as a couple (until #they don't. lmao) while jess...ghosts her #and yes he's 18 logan was older it's not fair whatever idc #i'm not a centrist because i do like logan better but you won't ever see me act like every single thing he did was forgivable #but i stil like him and like him with rory even though i'll say jess and rory are more compelling so i get why they're more popular #even though on other platforms it's more of an even split. but (and this is gonna sound bad) when i first watched gilmore girls i was 18 #and i was just...so over the bad boy good girl i hate everyone but you only softens with you (even though jess is barely soft with her #which i don't really blame him for like i UNDERSTAND him and i think their relationship's well written! i just don't like them together))#like sorry i would've liked them if i had watched the show at 14 but i had...grown out of that phase #if anyone is deeply team jess i apologize pretend i didn't just say something insulting #i mean i don't think there's something inherently wrong with these tropes it's just the way it plays out for them really doesn't make me #root for them to be together. and i only liked jess after a couple viewings of the show (logan too btw because like luke says in a vineyard #valentine it really is one day we hate him one day we love him so for a while i was like...what's his deal like i really wasn't enamoured #which is why...i feel like i can be objective even though i like logan and rory better🙏)#i also didn't like rory that much by the end of ayitl lmao #this was inspired by a gifset compiling moments where logan made rory feel insecure like wow do you really wanna go there

0 notes

prettyflyforawhitelie · 2 months

Note

Hi I love your work so far, do you think you could do headcannons for all the different characters of the main Hazbin Hotel cast when their lover comes to them injured? Like how they would treat you and then how they would deal with the person who harmed you. I would love to see this ahhhh 😫

Ahh of course! I love this, thanks for the request! I hope you like it!

Trope: Hazbin Hotel x Injured!reader

Characters: Alastor, Charlie, Vaggie, Angeldust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Lucifer

Warnings: Physical violence, mention of death, injured reader, blood.

author's note: hey guys! this is my first time doing one of these, and I'm still getting better, so forgive me if its a bit shabby. If you have any requests, feel free to send them in! I'm in a creative buzz rn lol. Enjoy!

🦌📻Alastor📻🦌:

The day that your attacker decides to hurt you is the day that they decide to die. Messing with the Radio Demon’s plaything is about the last thing you want to do.

Alastor often sent his shadows to follow you into town when he couldnt be with you, so the second you were attacked, Alastor could sense that something was wrong.

By the time his shadows had carried you back to the hotel, your attacker had already escaped, but luckily, his shadows saw everything.

When he rushed down to see you, he seemed rather indifferent at first. He carried you up to his room, immediately conjuring several healing ointments to heal you quickly.

He laid you in his bed, in which you almost immediately fell asleep.

He hears the whispers of his shadows, and gains all of the information he needs out of them.

With a single snap of his finger, the issue was taken care of. Rumor has it that the screams of your attackers' seemingly “random” death could be heard about 3 rings down.

While waiting for you to wake, Alastor conjures two steaming bowls of his mother’s jambalaya. Placing one on the side table next to you, he sits down next to your sleeping body and lightly grazes your head, singing soothing songs until you wake up.

😈🗝️Charlie🗝️😈:

Would of course be so very angry at whoever did this, but her first priority would be healing you up and making sure that you’re absolutely 100% okay and comfortable.

Would set you up in her bed and assure that you have anything at all that would make you feel more comfortable. Tea? Yup. Ice pack? Already got it. Cuddles? Of course!

Would definitely let you cuddle with Razzle and Dazzle for as long as you needed.

She would try her best to talk to you and figure out what happened - to figure out who did this to you.

As you told her, she seemed surprisingly… calm? She simply thanked you for telling her and left the room.

Though Charlie doesn't seem like a particularly violent person… She can get protective over the people she loves. So, let's just say she got that issue taken care of real quick. How stupid to mess with the Morningstar family.

🪽⚔️Vaggie⚔️🪽:

Anybody in her vicinity needs to watch out when she hears that her love is hurt.

Like, seriously, heads will roll. But not before she checks on you to evaluate how badly she needs to fuck up the person who did this to you.

When she sees you, bruised and bloody, she can't help but hold you so tight and cry, scolding you for getting yourself into a bad situation without her there to protect you.

Vaggie knows what it feels like to be beaten and dumped on the side of the street like garbage. She could never forgive herself if she allowed that to happen to anybody else, let alone the genuine love of her life.

When she asks for the person who did this, you can only give her a vague description. That’s alright though, she will use her former exterminator skills to scan all of Hell and find the person who dared to do this to you. She will not leave this alone until she serves you justice.

🕷️💖Angeldust💖🕷️:

Coming home from the studio to find you in his room, crying and bruised, he immediately drops whatever he’s doing and comforts you in the biggest hug ever.

Angel has plenty of experience with being abused and left to fend for himself, so he doesn't immediately resort to asking questions. No, that’s not what you need right now. You just need to know that you’re loved, beautiful, and that this does nothing to affect your worth or value as a person.

He carries you from the floor to his bed, covering you in blankets and laying next to you with Fat Nuggets.

“It’s okay baby. You can cry, it's okay.” he whispers as you sob into his chest.

He allows you to initiate the conversation of what happened, not wanting to push you past your limits.

Once he finds out what happened, he knows what he has to do. He waits until you fall asleep, and heads down to the club where your attacker happens to frequent. For once, being a famous pornstar will actually serve in his favor. He tempts your attacker to follow him, and immediately beats him to an absolute pulp.

He allows the person to live, saying “I am only letting you live so you can know how it feels. You ever try this shit again, and I will find you. Except that time, you wont leave here looking so… whole.”

♥️♦️Husk♦️♥️:

Husk is used to all the residents of the hotel bitching and moaning to him about all of their issues. With Charlie coming to him and oftentimes crying about the many failures of the hotel, tears were no foreign sight to him.

But coming from the kitchen to the bar and seeing you there, looking an absolute mess, was different.

“What the-What the fuck happened?” he yells. When you flinch, he knows that something happened.

When you explain to him what happened, he immediately needs a description of the attacker. He takes possibly the largest shot you've ever seen and storms out of the hotel.

He wishes that he could do more to protect you. Back when he was an overlord, he had power beyond anybody's imagination. He could've snapped a finger and your attacker would simply disintegrate (but not before he tortured him a bit first). But now that Alastor owned his soul, his powers were limited.

You know what wasn't limited on husk, though? His pure physical strength.

He immediately finds the guy walking on the street adjacent to the hotel (dumb, right?) and absolutely obliterates him.

As the attacker is begging for his life, he just keeps hitting, blind with rage and love for you.

When he wants back into the hotel bloody and exasperated, he sits in the stool next to you and wraps you with one of his wings.

“It’s all okay now. I’m here” he says as you lean on his shoulder, so ready to go to bed.

🐍⚙️Sir Pentious⚙️🐍:

Sir Pentious always loved coming to your room to show you his many zany inventions. Normally you welcome him in with open arms, a sweet smile on your face, but today was different.

When he knocked on your door, he was met with absolute silence, which isn't normal for you. When he listened a bit closer, though, he could hear your small sniffles. He trusted his gut and slowly opened the door, fully ready to be denied entry.

Instead, you looked at him shyly, turning away and crying. He could've sworn that he saw a… black eye?

He took this opportunity to come and sit next to you on your floor, placing his arm around you and letting you lean your head on his shoulder.

When he noticed that you were calming down a bit, he asked you what was wrong.

You explained that while you were engaged in a turf war, some ruffian beat you up, and badly. The girl you had momentarily teamed up with had left you behind, and you were left to trek back to the hotel on your own, barely able to walk.

You could see something change in his eyes.

He curled his tail around you, his cool skin calming your nerves. He assured you that he was here now, and nothing like this would ever happen to you again. He then swiftly called his egg bois to entertain and comfort you while he prepared his airship. The idiot that did this to you was going to pay, and not just in turf.

😈🐣Lucifer🐣😈:

Bursting into Lucifer’s room, the only thing you could mutter is “Help” as you fell into his arms.

He frantically carried you to a chair and tried to assess your injuries. Man, someone fucked you up, and badly. Too bad he would kill them before they could brag about their success.

He rushed to find ANYTHING that could help you. Bandages, ice, your favorite food, a rubber duck, ANYTHING.

When he finds you absolutely passed out asleep in the chair, he gently moves you to his bed and tries his best not to stir you.

As he sits watching you, thinking of your beautiful smile (and how he’ll brutally kill the person who did this to you), he observes your features with great detail.

When you wake up, you smile. Lucifer must have gone, but sitting on your table is a bowl of soup and… is that a rubber duck that looks like you?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #Charlie Morningstar xreader #charlie x reader #vaggie x reader #lucifer x reader #sir pentious x reader #husk x reader #angel dust x reader #alastor x reader #helluva boss #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel oneshots #injured reader

1K notes · View notes