#this is quite bad and I hope it does not happen | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gojoath · 1 day

Text

ಣ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ ARE YOU STILL WATCHING? OKKOTSU YŪTA

your boyfriend, yūta, doesn’t ever like sharing what’s his. apparently that statement goes for your fictional crushes too.

summary. fem reader. yandere yūta. obsession. manipulation. stalking. yandere themes. aged up characters. jealousy -> over fictional characters. fem oral receiving. yuta gets jealous over your fictional crushes. possessiveness. toxic relationships. wc, 3.2k.

note. another repost (did not realise how much i wrote for this)

yuuta loves your nights spent together. the ones where it’s just the both of you— as it should be, wrapped in each others embrace, pressed into his side for movie marathons and new episodes of your favourite tv show just moments after they’ve aired.

it’s like nights of proof, evidence that he’s all you’ll ever need because he’s never seen you laugh or smile like you do when you’re with him. he hopes you’ll eventually be able to see that this is the happiest you’ll ever be, the type of joy of being with him. wrapped in his love.

it’s a night quite like this one, yuuta gives you a sweet smile as he pushes through the living room door— greeted with your soft figure on the sofa, already flicking through the netflix homescreen and the sofa dips under his weight when he sits beside you.

hes watching you so intently, his still gaze cutting through your features and the feeling urges you to turn to meet him just as you decide on your entertainment for the night with a giddy smile.

“hi, yuu-“ you grin as your boyfriend yuuta presses into you, laughing into the kiss he smears against your lips and he thinks you feel so warm under his touch. his hands are cold against your skin but you don’t run or shy away from it when he squeezes at your waist, your lips moving seamlessly against his until he’s letting his eyes peer towards the tv softly to see what you’ve chosen.

only then does he pull away from you, with a soft frown on his pretty features but his hands still hold you before he’s turning to sigh.

“but baby, i thought it was our night.” the show on the tv isn’t yuuta’s usual choice for your nights alone. he much preferred the romcons or chick-flicks that you normally chose — the ones that gave him the opportunities to inch closer, to squeeze into you during confession scenes or steal a kiss alongside your on-screen idols.

“but yuuta, please— they just released a movie, you know how much i love the series.” you’re looking up at him with a slight glow to your gaze, deliberately tracing your hands across his shoulders — pushing them through his hair like a silent little plea. “and you know who is in it.” you continue, but your words make your boyfriend stiffen this time — something harsher to his gaze because he knows exactly who you mean when you’re biting on your lower lip to hide your smile. his smile, the one that’s reserved for him. it’s supposed to be his.

you know who, being your favourite character from your favourite show. you’ve never openly admitted him to be your on-screen crush but yuuta knows better than anyone that he definitely is. he can always see the way you fidget whenever he’s on screen, doing something heroic and oh so insufferable— he doesn’t see the appeal. he doesn’t know why you do either when you have him by your side. he’s been made deliberately handsome, to play into naive, sweet girls like you’s fantasies but you don’t need someone like that. isn’t he already enough for you?

maybe it’s the thought of being saved by a hero but your boyfriend could do that for you too. he could be your hero — it wouldn’t be hard to draw you into an alleyway with a cursed spirit or maybe two, he’d jump at the opportunity to save you — to reveal himself in all of his glory.

although yuuta promised he would never let anything bad happen to you, it would all be part of his carefully curated plan to have you pliant and scared. you’d never be in any real danger — just enough to be begging for your true hero. you’d cry for him, right? not for anything else?

but despite all of that and because he loves you, he can never say no to you. not when you’re blinking up at him deliberately sweet and starry eyed, tracing shapes into his sensitive skin until the tips of his ears are red and his answer is pushed between the next press of your lips against his. “o-okay, we can watch it.” because he wants, needs to make you happy.

“really? you’re the best!” the smile and praise yuuta’s answer earns from you is so warming and he’s convinced himself it’s because of him, and not because hes letting you watch the movie for your favourite character instead. it’s because you love him, that’s it.

so he lets you kick your feet cutely as you get yourself comfortable beside him, letting him pull you tight into his side like hes staking a claim against the pixels on the tv — like some territorial show of a wild animal claiming it’s mate as his dull gaze focuses on the tv infront of you.

but it doesn’t take long before he’s irritable and fidgeting. two minutes into the opening credits and his eyes are on you because he can almost feel the way you’re beaming at the screen— catching the first glimpse of you know whoand already yuuta wants to kill him. what would it take for him to prove he wasn’t all that you imagine him to be?

would you want to watch your boyfriend tear him apart in the name of love?

but instead of that, he finds another means of bringing you back to him. he lets the cool trace of his fingertips press beneath your shirt as you shudder into him. your eyes are still on the screen but your body leans closer, like an instinct of sorts that feels like it burns him.

another breath and yuuta leans down into you, pressing his lips beneath your ear then across your jawline and he can feel the way your body seems to rise in temperature with every kiss. you’re not pushing him away yet but you’re not looking at him either, so he continues — tracing messy, twisted hearts into your skin between suckled kisses, until his lips are leaving sensitive little marks down your neck and you’re panting against him softly.

“yuuta, the movie.” is all you finally manage but he doesn’t care, couldn’t care because you’re his and he needs to prove it, as silly and twisted as it may seem. he needs to, and you let him.

“sorry, i— i just need you. i cant help it.” theres a strain to yuuta’s voice as he answers you but he feels you shudder when he’s pushing himself onto the floor between your thighs— leaning up to continue his onslaught of kisses before he’s trailing lower gradually, painfully slow until you’re finally looking at him.

he can still hear the effects of the movie in the background but your attention is on him and he feels something burn in his heart at that. that you chose him over everyone else, he knew you’d never abandon or betray him. you really dolove him like you say.

yuuta’s teeth nip at your collarbones before he’s tugging at your shorts to pull them down then your thighs after, letting you lie back more on the sofa as he presses himself beneath them. he pushes them apart to spread you almost too quickly with his next breath as his eyes break from yours only to take you in.

you’re left in only your shirt and panties, so exposed and pretty as they cling to the warmth of your intimate skin and it makes the coiling pleasure in yuuta’s gut tighten delightfully as he admires you.

“yuuta,” your lips part to moan and it makes him shudder before he’s covering it with a sweet smile and his hands are on you.

it happens so fast when you feel yuuta push your panties to the side messily and the first swipe of his finger between your folds is purposeful, but rushed. it’s like he’s desperate to feel you beneath him, warm and wet as he drags the rough pad of his finger beneath the hood of your clit to roll the sensitive bud. you twitch, cutely, grabbing onto the fabric of the sofa cushions beneath you as the press of his touch makes you whimper softly.

“you sound pretty.“ he hums before he’s deliberately pressing down onto your puffy clit harder, hungrily, like he’s trying to force more of those sweet sounds out of you, only for him, as he spreads you even wider. he keeps up the same pace and pressure until you’re wet enough for him to push two fingers inside, almost whining when he’s not met with much resistance.

yuuta’s fingers are long, long enough for you to hiss at the stretch but your walls still squeeze and mould around them so effortlessly as you take him in. it makes something blissful flutter in his tummy when your head rolls back at the pleasure. so he shifts one of your thighs over his shoulder as he keeps you spread, ready and accessible for him while he gazes up at you from under long lashes and leans into press his first soft kiss between your folds.

but what your boyfriend doesn’t expect to see with his next blink is your eyes on the tv, even if only for a moment— it’s a moment you’re not even looking at him despite the way he’s pushing his fingers into your cunt. he wonders if you’re imagining your tv crush to be the one between your thighs right now, pressing into the spots inside of you that make your walls squeeze and quiver. he hates this, he hates him. do you always think about him instead of your boyfriend?

“baby?” you hum like you’re aknowledging the call but your eyes are still on the screen over his shoulder despite the way your ever loving boyfriend is between your thighs. his tongue is on your clit, tracing it in messy circles and all you can give him in return is a soft pant — why arent you looking at him when he’s treating you so well? why are your eyes still on someone else instead.

“baby.” he calls again but it’s accompanied by a deliberately deep press of his fingers into your walls as he pushes himself up, pulling his mouth away from you and deliberately kneeling infront of the tv until you’re forced to meet his dark gaze. but the depth of frost it seems to hold almost makes you shudder beneath it. it’s lacking it’s usual dull glow despite the way his fingers still press hot between your folds.

“do you want me to stop?” yuuta hums, voice soft despite the way he’s looking at you, holding your gaze like he’s asking you to beg for your life instead of the simple, easily answered question that rings true.

“n-no,”

“then why won’t you look at me?” he’s not unaware of the way the drop in his tone makes you squeeze around his fingers, the obedience earns you another languid press of the digits into you — so deep you can feel the cold touch of the promise ring on his ring finger. the one you wear too. you remember the promise you both made, don’t you? “i thought you liked this.”

“i do, yuu.. please, it’s so good.” your voice takes a higher pitch than normal as yuuta pulls his fingers back out of you, almost teasing you with the reminder he could pull away entirely as you give him a teary eyed blink.

“but you’re not looking at me. you’re watching him,” his gaze deepens, lidded and sleepy when he leans closer to you — ghosting his lips against yours until you’re pressing back into the cushions and your lungs squeeze on your next breath. if it wasn’t for the way your pussy was trying so desperately to pull him back in, he’d think you were scared.

“no, no it just distracted me. i love it,” your toes curl from where they’re resting in the air but your answer pleases yuuta enough to draw himself back again before he’s back between your thighs. his gaze remains though, watching you so intently — you wouldn’t look away again, would you? another saccharine press of his fingers into your walls and he scissors them, making you moan before he’s asking his next question.

“what else? what else do you love?” his warm breath rolls over your slick folds, his dark eyes wavering from yours slightly to shine on where his digits sink into you.

“i love you, yuu— just please, keep going,” the love confession is enough for him, for now and your gaze stays true on his own as his head lowers and his tongue curls against your clit before he’s dragging it back up.

yuuta feels sticky at the words still and he groans, angling his fingers inside of you up with twisted purpose, like he’s showing off how well he can work you — play with your body infront of the screen like he’s making your favourite actor watch. “then watch me.” he brushes them against the spongy spot inside of you, his request murmured between your folds until your hands are in his hair to pull him deeper. “please,”

it’s languid, filthy the way he pumps his fingers in and out of your wet heat, complimenting it with kitten licks because he knows exactly how to pull the pleasure out of you, the pleasure he owns. the sound effects from the movie are doing little to cover up the lewd squelching sounds accompanied with his slurps and smacks as his eyes lift to touch yours again.

“he can’t touch you like this, baby” yuuta continues to sink his fingers into you as he speaks, swirling tantalising circles into your clit with his tongue while his fingers drag more slick out, making a sloppy mess between your thighs as he laps it back up. it’s a little cruel the way he doesn’t give into your fantasies but why should he when you’re his, so he buries his face into you with a loud swallow—every noise so much messier and wetter than the last, your hands grab and curl in the dark mess of hair and he hums as he urges you to answer. “it’s only me, remember?”

“y-yes, only you.” you reply like you’re hypnotised, in some sort of hormone-drunken trance but oh he loves you like this. it’s like your pretty little head can’t even thinkabout anything else that isn’t your hopelessly devoted boyfriend with every flick of his tongue and twist of his wrist.

“what are you thinking about, hm?” it’s fucked up the way he wishes he could look into your mind, to tear you apart for your thoughts and secrets — to strip your bare and peer into your soul.

“w-what?” your hips stutter, shake beneath him but yuuta finds it too easy to hold you there — pressing more of his weight onto you as he presses your ass into the cushions, and he takes a deep inhale of your pussy with his next lewd suckle on your clit. he could get high on your scent, on your taste and your being.

“do you think about me?” but still, he continues because he needs to hear you say it. to tell him it’s only him you think about when you’re on the brink of orgasm, when it warms and licks at the base of your spine — when you’re so sickwith pleasure and want is it him that’s on your mind? tell him it’s him.

put him at ease after all hes done for you. after how he loves you.

“mhm,” you stutter as yuuta licks into your pussy with a hunger that’s so uniquely him, and you almost choke on a babbled cry of his name as you tremble. you feel him flatten his tongue against your sensitive bud before he’s sucking it gently between his lips and pulling away with an exaggerated pop that has butterflies pooling in your stomach. he’s trained you so well, mindlessly coaxing you into feeding into his obsession because you know it’ll earn you a sweet reward.

“do you want me to save you?” your pussy throbs around his digits and he breathes a warm sigh across your skin, your eyes clenching tight as your thighs quiver against the width of his shoulders and your head drops back as his dark gaze cuts up into you. you feel him drag his tongue in slow, thorough swirls over your clit as your hips rock side to side. “p-please, baby. tell me,”

“y-yes, ‘m gonna cum— save me,” you tell him and your mind feels like it filled with cotton— thick with pleasure but yuuta smile’s against your folds as he works you with practiced precision. he’s watching your hips twist under his touch and feeding on your reactions, devouring you entirely with every lav of his tongue as he breathes into you.

it only takes a few more twists over your puffy clit, accompanied by the deep graze of his fingertips against the sensitive spots inside of you until you’re cumming, so hard and good it almost makes you see white completely as your toes curl and ache. your thighs squeeze around his cheeks and it’s eager the way he buries himself even deeper into you, slurping greedily at the cream his fingers urge to push out of you and he moans at the feeling of you making a mess of his mouth and cheeks.

every whimpered whine against your folds makes you feel even better — prolonging your blissful state and yuuta fucking loves it, so he doesn’t stop until he’s full. not until you’re stuttering out his name and pushing at his head with the overstimulation that makes you burn with every drawn out flick of his tongue. his fingers ease away from the tight, saccharine squeeze of your walls.

you’re adorable as you come down from your high, all dazed and drowsy and your boyfriend admires you as he lets his cheek rest on your still quivering thigh, gazing up at you despite how heavy his cock feels against his sweats right now. your hands are in his hair still but they’ve stopped pulling at his roots, instead you’re busying yourself with brushing the dark hair back from his features as he gives you an adoring blink.

you smile, albeit a little sleepy but it warms yuuta completely at how much love he swears it holds, “yuuta, now we have to restart the movie,” you’re pouting now but you’re pretty, so pretty it earns you a kind smile from your boyfriend despite your want to still watch that same movie he just did his best to pull you away from.

“but, baby, i don’t feel like watching anymore.” his words are soft, accompanied by his fingertips trailing up the inside of your thigh to squeeze and you’re still so sensitive the touch makes you shudder. his next touch is a little higher, just short of your folds as he tests the waters and despite the lingering remnants of your orgasm— you don’t push him away, even when his finger is swiping through the sensitive petals of your pussy once more.

he really didn’t have anything to worry about, did he? you really do love him. the realisation makes him smile again before he’s twisting gently to bite at the inside of thigh— suckling at the skin to leave a mark until you jolt at the sting.

“i found something else to do that’s better for both of us. it’s our night, right? so come, give me all of you.”

#cw yandere #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #okkotsu yuta smut #okkotsu yuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta smut #okkotsu yuuta x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #okkotsu yuta x you #yuuta smut #jjk x you #yuuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta x you #yuuta x you

137 notes · View notes

visceravalentines · 2 days

Text

folger's, eat your heart out

oh my god this got away from me so bad it's wanted in twelve states. but it's done (is anything ever done) and i'm.......i'm quite happy with it. i really hope you like it.

4.3k words. canon divergence, boys on the run. established relationship. character study, lots of introspection. implied sexual content, nothing too explicit. so much kissing. hand job. light s/m. night terrors and vague mention of canon-typical trauma. mostly soft, so soft. benson is so in love and doesn't know it yet <3

read on ao3 here if that's more your speed.

It’s a Tuesday. Benson knows this because his eyes snap open automatically at five in the morning even though he hasn’t set an alarm in weeks. He opens on Tuesdays, been on that schedule for so long he doesn’t even need the alarm anymore anyways.

Well, he used to open on Tuesdays.

He wakes up slow. Gets a savage satisfaction out of being somewhere unfamiliar, revels in it. With bleary eyes he traces the outline of the water damage on the ceiling and it’s different than the one back home. Room smells different too, stale sweat and dust and complimentary green tea bar soap. The mattress is too fucking soft, folds around him like dough. His spine is electric with pain.

Fuck, he’s getting old. Twenty-nine going on fifty.

He drags a hand over his face and wishes he could fall back asleep. Not going to happen. Not a chance with this marshmallow bed and the sun popping its stupid Raisin Bran fucking face through the blinds. Benson sleeps dark and cold and silent with his back to the wall. Arms locked in front of his chest like armor. Like a corpse on a slab.

Or he used to, anyway.

He can’t feel his left arm. He pushes his chin into his throat at an odd angle to look down at Randy, still asleep, curled up on Benson’s chest like a sandy-colored cat. His hands are tucked together, long, knobby fingers folded over each other, resting in the center of Benson’s ribs. The sun takes each strand of his hair and wraps it in gold, even his eyelashes, laying long and pretty on his cheeks.

Fuck Folger’s. Nothing comes close to this.

It’s surreal, still. Being here, being anywhere, together. Like, together. Unbelievable the way he fits so neatly under Benson’s arm. He rests his lips against the crown of Randy’s head. He does it because he wants to, because he can. He inhales slow and deep and he smells warm and bright and a little grimey. Like summer. Like sweat and mud and the most beautiful blue sky you’ve ever seen. Fucking perfect, he’s perfect.

He's peaceful now, which is saying something. Randy’s a terrible sleeper. Sharing a bed with him is punishing. He thrashes in his sleep, digs elbows into Benson’s ribs and jolts him awake in a panic ready to fight, and then Benson has to stare into the abyss and count to a thousand before he can calm the fuck down and drift off again.

He never talks about his nightmares. Benson knows he has them, but he knows better than to ask about shit like that. On occasion he’ll wake up to Randy tugging on his arm, pulling it around him like a security blanket. He doesn’t mind that in the least, rolls over half asleep and wraps himself around Randy’s sweat-soaked body. He pins his arms to his sides for both their sakes, buries his face against the back of his neck, and that’s that. Problem solved.

Benson, on the other hand, sleeps like the dead–save for the nights he wakes up screaming and doesn’t realize he’s doing it. Doesn't even know he's awake until he sees Randy’s face floating above him in the dark, wide-eyed like some twig-limbed owl. Until he feels his hands on his face, wiping salt from his cheeks.

Shit sucks, because then he has to turn all the lights on and pace the room, chewing on a cigarette and cracking his neck ‘til it's sore, trying to walk it off. Randy sits on the bed hugging his knees to his chest and watches him like a hawk. But he doesn't speak, doesn't try to push it, waits patiently until Benson crawls back into bed and lets him decide where he wants to be.

He can't stand to be touched during and after those episodes, always hated when his ma would try to smother him when he was still young enough to smother, but funny enough, Randy’s okay. Doesn't seem to count. Maybe it's because he lets him set the pace and doesn't get his feelings hurt when Benson curls up on the edge of the mattress with pillows stacked between them. Either way, most times Benson falls back asleep with his head tucked into the hollow of Randy's neck and those skinny arms slung around his shoulders. And the light on.

The night terrors aren’t new, but it’s been a while since they’ve been this bad. It’s like they’ve worked their way to the surface of his brain. Like a splinter finding its way out of the skin. He doesn’t like Randy seeing him that way, but he can’t really help it. He used to sleep on his stomach with his face in the pillow so he wouldn’t wake Ma and have to deal with her on top of everything else, but he had so many nightmares about suffocating he can't do it anymore.

But Randy never lets Benson apologize in the morning, insists he doesn't mind being woken up. He's told him that again and again, so often that Benson’s starting to believe him. They’re both fucked in the head just enough that it makes it okay. No hard feelings.

Last night was quiet for both of them, for once. Benson wishes he was still asleep to take advantage of it, but this is nice too. He can feel Randy’s breath on his collarbone and it’s driving him crazy, a little bit. He’s not used to nice things. He’s always scared he’s gonna fuck them up somehow. Sometimes he wants to fuck them up. Track mud across the carpet, break a dish. Say the wrong thing. Bite down too hard.

He’s learning how to be gentle. He’s trying, like, really trying. Randy doesn’t make it easy, that’s for damn sure. The way he whimpers when Benson’s hands are on him isn’t fucking fair. The way he bares his throat and gasps and begs. And then he shows Benson the marks afterwards like he’s proud of them, like Benson wasn’t there when he got them.

“You did a number on me,” he said last night with this sheepish grin, almost giddy, leaning over the sink to look at himself in the mirror. Prodding at the bite mark on his shoulder, the hickies on his neck. Never mind all the shit he couldn’t see from that angle, but Benson saw it. The shape of his body all over Randy’s in bruises.

Made him feel kinda good and kinda bad, sort of guilty, but then Randy looked over at him with those eyes, hair all mussed, bottom lip cherry red and swollen, and said with unmistakable adoration, “You’re an animal, Bence.”

Un-fucking-fair.

But he’s trying, he is. Trying to ease up on the reins. Trying to be soft, because Randy needs soft no matter what he asks Benson for in the dark. He can’t fuck this up. Can’t fuck him up; at least, not any more than he already has. On the list of things he’s ever wanted to fuck up in the world, Randy is at the bottom.

And it’s good too, the lovey-dovey bullshit. It’s good. It’s great. The way Randy falls asleep on his shoulder halfway through the movie, any movie, no matter how good it is or how loud it’s turned up or how much Benson promised him he was gonna like it. The way he bumps his knuckles against Benson’s when they’re standing shoulder-to-shoulder, just because. Just to touch him. He’ll catch him smiling at him for no reason, all the time, just glance over and there he is looking like they’re on their way to Disney World. No one's ever smiled at him like that. He’s not even doing anything to earn it, he’s just living his fucking life. The fact of his existence is apparently an ongoing novelty to Randy.

Crazy fucking kid.

Benson feels like he’s body-swapped with someone on better terms with luck and the skin doesn’t fit quite right but fuck, he’s figuring out how to make it work. He doesn’t get handed things like this. Good things with no strings attached. He’s always kind of on edge, always waiting for someone to break down the door and haul him away. For someone to pause the laugh track and punch through the set. For Randy to suffer a moment of clarity and tell him to go fuck himself.

He’s never had this kind of good, never expected it. Never really thought he deserved it. And Randy sure doesn't deserve this kind of bizarre sideways bullshit that makes up the best that Benson can offer. He deserves better from him. From everyone. From life. Benson keeps trying to tell him that.

Too bad he can't quite convince him. Too bad Benson’s selfish and couldn't let go of him if he tried. Wouldn't even try. Wouldn't turn out well.

He runs his thumb across the angle of Randy's cheekbone, feather-light. He wants to let him sleep and he wants him to wake up and he doesn’t know which he wants more. He draws lines across his cheek, from the corner of his mouth, along the edge of his jaw, carefully, carefully, so gentle his hand shakes. He’s probably never been hit in the face. Probably never had a black eye, broken nose. Shy, scared, beautiful thing.

There’s been a violence in Benson for as long as he can remember. Bone-deep. And it’s a magnet, pulls other violence right to him like wasps to fresh meat. Sometimes he loves it, sometimes he hates it. He always falls back on it, no matter how hard he tries to leave it behind or wrap it up so tight it can’t get out. He fails again and again. But it doesn’t scare Randy anymore. In fact, it’s like Randy gives it justification. Permission. Validates it. Like maybe it’s hung around this whole time just so Benson could learn how to use it, for his sake. To protect him. At least until he figures out how to protect himself.

And Randy’s learning, he is. Stands up taller, takes up space. Orders his own food at restaurants. But Benson kind of likes playing guard dog. Likes being needed in that way, and others. Likes being needed by Randy in particular.

Benson’s already killed for him, so it’s like he’s always trying to find a way to top that. That should be hard, right, but Randy makes it easy. Gets excited over nothing, little shit like finding both their names on some dumb souvenir keychains. Or when he brings him a bag of plain fucking potato chips, his favorite. Or when Benson covers his eyes before the money shot in some gore flick because he’s a pussy and also it dredges up some shit for him that neither of them wants to think about. The way he lights up about that stuff, stupid little stuff, makes Benson feel worthwhile in a way he can’t describe.

For all he goes on about helping Randy become the best version of himself, the version of himself who’s confident and decisive and knows who Trent Reznor is, sometimes Benson gets the feeling like maybe, Randy’s the one making him better. Not changing him, not really, just…making him kind of okay. Making it all kind of okay. There are so many things Benson’s taken for granted, never thought twice about. About himself, about his life, about where both of those things would end up and how they’d get there. Randy makes him reconsider. Makes it worth reconsidering.

It feels wrong to stop him. Might as well let him try. What’s it gonna hurt?

Sometimes he wants to laugh in disbelief at it all. Who the fuck is he these days? Going soft right and left and glad for it. He feels like he’s on another planet. Hundreds of miles from home, no phone, no way back. Shooting towards the sun with everything he needs inside his shitty little rocket ship of a car.

Randy’s a spaceman for sure, no question. Ever since they turned west and hit the desert, he hangs out the window when they drive at night through all that nothing, head craned back to look at the sky.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” Benson asked him the first time, when he rolled down the window and started climbing out like a fucking lunatic.

“Looking at the stars,” Randy said. “There’s so many, Benson…you should look.”

“No thanks, I'm driving.”

“I mean…you could stop first.”

“I’ve seen stars, Randy.”

Randy was halfway out the window so his reply was almost lost to the wind. “Not like this.”

Benson reached over and grabbed him by the pocket of his jeans. “If you fall out I’m leaving your ass behind.”

He let Benson pull him back inside then, and stared right at him in this new way of his. This new, brave Randy who had finally shaken some of that paralyzing fear of confrontation and figured out how to be direct. “No you wouldn’t.”

Benson had looked at him for as long as he could without drifting into the other lane, and then looked at him a little bit longer and had to course correct. “You’re right, I wouldn’t.”

He’s right. He wouldn’t.

Benson lets the memory slide away and finds Randy gazing up at him here and now, eyes crusted with sleep. He feels a twinge in his chest like a guitar string being plucked. The whole room is golden now.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, and even he can hear the velvet in his voice. Feels self-conscious about it for a second until he gets distracted by Randy wrinkling his nose to stave off a yawn.

“Morning,” he murmurs, peels his cheek off Benson's chest and leaves a pink circle behind that matches the one on his face. He rubs at his eyes and gives him that dumb Disney World smile. “Sleep well?”

“Slept great.” Benson swipes away a stray eye booger from the inside corner of Randy’s left eye. “Nice to have one single solitary night where I don't have to fight you to the death.”

Randy bites the inside of his cheek, looks bashful. Benson fucking loves it. “Well, I mean…you wore me out pretty good last night.”

Benson smirks, takes hold of the back of Randy’s neck and pulls him back into his shoulder. “Yeah I did. I oughta do that more often.”

Randy worms his arm beneath the covers and around Benson’s waist and it gives him honest-to-god butterflies. He runs his fingers through Randy’s hair. It's getting fucking long, almost falls past his ears. He keeps asking him to cut it and Benson keeps refusing. It's got this little flip at the ends that he thinks is cute. He bets it’ll grow out into gorgeous fucking waves when it hits his shoulders.

He takes a fistful and squeezes, does that a couple times before he tugs his head up so they’re nose-to-nose. Randy’s eyelids slide half-closed and his lips part on reflex.

“What you wanna do today?” Benson murmurs. He can feel Randy’s breath on his chin, licks his lips.

“...just this,” Randy says, almost a whisper.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not bored of this?”

“No.”

Benson almost smiles. “Me neither.”

He pushes Randy's head back down into the curve of his neck, rides the swell of satisfaction he gets from his frustrated groan. “Don’t worry, babe, we got all day. How about you, how’d you sleep?”

“Good.” His thumb moves back and forth along Benson’s hip and it’s electric, feels like he’s got lightning bolts shooting around under his skin, makes his muscles twitch. He’s still not used to that. Gentle shit like that. “Had a dream about you.”

“No shit?” He’s not sure anyone’s ever dreamt about him before. He’s kinda flattered. “Was it hot?”

Randy snorts. “No, it wasn’t…like that. We, uh…we were at the beach.”

Benson screws up his eyebrows, looks down at Randy. He can’t see his face from this angle. “The beach?”

“Yeah. We were just, like…there. Just messing around. I mean, there were other people there, but they didn’t…matter.”

Benson doesn’t know what to make of this. “Huh. That’s it? Just…beach day?”

“Yeah. Well, I mean, until the end. A shark showed up and you…punched it so hard that it died.”

Benson does a genuine double-take. “I punched a shark. And it died?”

Now Randy twists, looks up at him, smiling. “Yeah. It was awesome.”

It sounds kind of awesome. Benson pokes him in the ribs. “You’re a fucking dork.”

“I’m just telling you what happened!”

“Look, Randy, I’ve never been to the beach, but I’ve seen Jaws about one thousand times and I know for a fact a shark would swallow my ass whole. And it would eat you and not even know that it happened. I’m not saying I’m scared, I’m just saying, don’t count on me to save you from a fucking sea monster.”

Randy doesn’t laugh and Benson looks at him and he’s making that face, that little frown and the line on his forehead that means that Benson just said something puzzling. Here we go. He tenses up without meaning to, braces for it. Grits his teeth, pops his knuckles.

“You’ve…really never been to the beach?”

Fuck, he hates this feeling. Like loss except you never had the thing in the first place. Like realizing maybe you’re supposed to be mourning something but you don’t really know what that something is or why it’s so important. He knows his upbringing wasn’t shit compared to Randy’s, compared to most kids’. He just wishes he could grow out of giving a shit about it.

So he gets defensive. He always gets defensive. “No, I’ve never been to the fucking beach. What’s so super-duper special about a bunch of sand? And water that’s mostly fish piss?”

Randy props himself up on his elbow, leans lightly on Benson’s chest, completely unfazed by his attitude. “Well…let’s go. You can decide for yourself.”

“To the beach?” Benson says incredulously. “Randy, we’re in fucking New Mexico.”

“Not–not today.” Randy waves his hand dismissively. “We can leave tomorrow. Make a beeline for California.”

And that’s that. The magical realism of the newly reformed Randy Fucking Bradley. No pity. No shame. Just the simplest solution in the whole damn universe.

“California.” Benson pictures the Beach Boys and hippies on rollerskates, rolls his eyes. “Sounds dreamy.”

“It’ll be worth it, Benson, I promise.” Randy looks at him with those puppy-dog eyes, chews his lip, slides his arm around Benson’s waist. He knows what the fuck he’s doing, the little shit; he’s too smart for his own good. “We don’t have to stay. We can leave as soon as we get there. I just…I think you would like it.” He leans a little heavier against Benson’s ribs, nudges his foot with his toes. “Please?”

Benson huffs. He’s not a fucking pushover, swear to God he’s not, but it’s like he can’t help but fold these days. He’s gonna spoil the guy rotten if he’s not careful. He has to at least pretend to put up a fight, just to say he tried. “What if I say no?”

His brow furrows. The puppy-dog eyes flick down to his mouth and back. “Well...maybe I could convince you.”

One of Benson’s eyebrows pops up. He likes the sound of that. “I’m listening.”

Randy sits up unsteadily on the marshmallow mattress and straddles Benson’s hips, tucking his hands beneath the pillow on either side of his head. Benson looks up at him, the angles of his face kissed by the sun, and feels a pleasant sort of ache in his chest. It's almost the same feeling as when he finally gave in and pulled over and let Randy sit on the hood, leaned back next to him and looked up at the stars and felt big and small at the same time.

“It’s amazing, Bence…you can't even imagine.” His thighs press against Benson's waist, wrists press against his shoulders.

“Yeah?” Benson licks his lips. His eyes can’t move fast enough, trying to take in every piece of his face, of his body, his name written all over all of it in red and purple. “Tell me about it.”

Randy's hair is hanging over his face like a messy kind of halo. He peers through it with this earnest intensity, this lion cub ferocity that might be the hottest thing Benson's ever seen. He shifts his weight to one hand and strokes the sensitive spot behind Benson’s ear with his thumb, sends chills spidering across his skin.

“The smell of the water and–and the sound. You never forget it. And it makes you feel…it’s massive. It’s amazing.”

“You know what else is massive?”

Randy stifles a chuckle, looks away, color rising in his cheeks. Benson grins. “Listen to me, Benson.”

“I'm listening!”

“It makes you feel…it makes you feel small, I guess. But not in a bad way. We could just walk around or maybe…swim a little bit?”

Benson pictures Randy with wet hair, dark and wavy, water rolling down his neck. Salt water, salty skin. “Could be nice.”

“We can do whatever you want.” He curls his toes against Benson’s thighs. “We could get ice cream and sit in the sun.”

The image of melted sticky sugar dripping over Randy’s hand, down his arm, hits Benson like a truck. Knocks the wind right out of him. He thinks about licking it off, watching him suck it off his own fingers. He wraps his hands behind Randy's knees and grips harder than he means to.

“That sounds, uh…that sounds good. I’m into that,” Benson says and he sounds like a moron in his own ears but it makes Randy smile so it's fine. He can feel the blood rushing away from his brain as fast as it can and he’s about ready to give in and end the discussion. Move on to other things.

Randy gets that earnest, uncertain look in his eyes all the sudden and touches Benson's face, brushes his thumb across the lines at the corner of his eyes in this foreign kind of way that Benson’s brain registers passively as tenderness, and all the sudden he can't breathe right. His throat’s fucked up like he’s getting sick. He swallows hard.

“I want to–I want to kiss you in the ocean,” Randy says quietly. “I think…I'd really like that.”

So now this is the only thing Benson cares about. His number-one goal. A shining and glorious reason to be alive. He’s going to kiss Randy in the ocean if it’s the last thing he fucking does.

“How about you kiss me right here, huh?” He cups the back of Randy’s neck and pulls him in, hard, yanks him really, because he can’t fucking help it. Because he wants him right now, right fucking now.

Randy resists, just a little, on reflex, and then gets overeager and his lips crash into Benson’s, but that’s okay. Randy kisses like he’s starved for it, always, no matter how long they’ve been at it. Even now, first thing in the fucking morning, he opens his mouth expectantly and moans when Benson slips his tongue past his teeth, one hand twisting the sheets, the other gripping his shoulder. He’s greedy, wants more, always more, is done depriving himself after fourteen years of solitude.

They’re a perfect match because Benson wants to give it to him. Anything he wants, everything, always, no matter where they are or how much skin is showing. He wants to share his space, his spit, his air, his anger, every inch of the car, every inch of the sky. All the bad nights. All the good ones, too. All the golden mornings that come after.

Benson laps at Randy’s bottom lip, catches it in his teeth and pulls. He digs his fingers into the half-healed shadow of his own hand on Randy’s waist from all the times before, opens his mouth to catch the gasp that wrenches free from his chest and swallows it whole.

“Benson,” Randy says, breathes his name like an exclamation of wonder. He presses the length of his body against Benson’s, weaves his fingers through the curls at the back of his neck and squeezes tight. He moves his hips in short, subconscious little thrusts, makes a desperate, hungry noise in the back of his throat. Benson can feel him hard against his stomach and fuck, he better pop a handful of painkillers for his back because they’re not leaving this shitty bed anytime soon.

Randy leans to the side so there’s a little breathing room between them. He runs his hand over Benson's chest, down his stomach, wraps his fingers around his dick and the sound Benson makes is strangled, animal.

“We can go, right?” Randy says. He strokes him like he can barely contain himself. “We can leave tomorrow?”

Benson arches his aching spine against the bullshit fucking mattress, digs his nails into Randy's back, feels lucky. Feels like a spaceman.

“Fuck yes. Fuck–yes–you got it, baby.”

Randy lights up and it's like staring into the sun. Transcendent. Fucking beautiful.

He twists out of Benson's grasp and ducks beneath the sheets and Benson can't fucking stand it. Can’t believe it’s real. He feels weightless, so light he just might end up way out there with all the stars. Nothing comes close to this, never has, never will. It’s not fair. He probably doesn’t deserve it. But no one ever said life was fair, now, did they? Sooner or later the odds had to end up in your favor.

He closes his eyes and grips the sheets and lets it be, lets it all be for once. Because for once, it's good. He's good. He's great. And they’re leaving tomorrow. For California.

Sounds dreamy.

tagging a couple friends who have gassed me up and been so patient sdlkfjlsk i just adore you guys <3

@crumb @ace-of-hearts-and-spades @cherubgore

#the passenger #the passenger 2023 #the passenger fanfiction #the passenger 2023 fanfiction #stockroom syndrome #randy x benson #ranson

33 notes · View notes

kalcifers-blog · 2 days

Text

I have a thought and I physically need to talk about it BC I think the JSE Fandom as a whole does not talk about it nearly enough.

BEFORE WE GET STARTED!!! Content Warnings :

Discussions on mental illness, alcoholism / alcohol withdrawal, mentions of potential suicidal behaviour!!!!!

CHASE BRODY IS NOT AN IDIOT.

I feel like Chase gets mischaracterised as being a bit of a himbo at best and just straight up stupid at worst.

For the record I generally dislike the way that happens? Like there's already a big stigma around addiction, I'm actually very impressed with how Chase Brody is such a sympathetic character with his addiction being an aspect of that. I love how it shines a new light on this very real and scary issue that doesn't villainise Chase at all for his condition.

But this is exactly why I feel it's so important that people understand that Chase also isn't an idiot.

Genuinely speaking there are so many examples of Chase being someone who is an extremely smart individual and I think a lot of that gets overshadowed by the fact that he's an alcoholic and depressed.

EXAMPLES BEING:

He is immediately asking questions the moment he's in IRIS.

He's constantly making it known exactly how he feels about his predicament but at the same time he understands that at certain points (especially when he doesn't have a clear view on IRIS and what they're up too) he needs to go along with things and keep civil to not put himself in potential danger

He calls out the way IRIS puts him through shit and how fucking weird that is of them to do

The moment he sees a shimmer of hope (in the form of Echo) he immediately tries to comfort them and tries to help them and attempts to make a plan to leave IRIS

When IRIS attempts to relocate Chase he immediately calls out that they're lying to him, that something has happened

He can spot people being manipulative from a mile away and is very quick to shoot it down as soon as he can by making it known he knows exactly what they're doing.

I would also like to mention that all this is happening while Chase is very likely going through major alcohol withdrawal issues- the symptoms of which include: tremor, craving for alcohol, insomnia, vivid dreams, anxiety, hypervigilance, agitation, irritability, loss of appetite (i.e., anorexia), nausea, vomiting, headache, and sweating.

Chase is quite literally going through it, like every severely going through it and the entire time he is he's surprisingly got more of a level head than most people probably would in his situation. And he's doing all of this while probably going through some intensely bad withdrawal symptoms as well as all the mental shit Anti is putting him through every moment he can.

All things considered Chase is insanely capable of being able to keep fighting even through some of the hardest things a person could go through.

Chase Brody is not an idiot, he's not useless and he's certainly not weak. If Chase can go through all the things he has and he's still fighting tooth and nail to survive even tho he previously was shown to be someone who was very clearly suicidal? I just think it says so much about his character that at Chase's core he's smart and strong- in ways a lot of people wouldn't appreciate nearly half as much if they didn't physically see the things he was being put through continuously for potentially years at this point.

And again I wanna keep in mind that all of this is going on while Chase is quite literally at rock bottom, like we have only seen Chase while he's at his worst. The fact that he is so smart while he's at his worst only makes me wonder just how capable he has the potential of being once he gets the right help he needs and deserves.

#this was brought to you by Kalcifer having a moment #its currently 5 am for the record #guys i love Chase Brody idk if you knew that #jacksepticeye #jse egos #jse #jacksepticeye egos #chase brody #kal rambles #kals thoughts #kalcifers blog #Ego Rambling

22 notes · View notes

honeybcj · 2 days

Note

Hi hi han hope ur day is well! More t Evan because he has decided to take permanent residence in my brain <3

Evan isn't as often in the mood for sex as Barty is but when they do fuck its a day long affair. One time Barty accidentally disobeyed direct orders and as punishment, Evan had left him tied to the bed with a toy up ass and a chastity cage for a prolonged amount of time. By the time Ev returned Barty is a begging and incoherent mess and Evan ever the gracious soul that he is takes pity and rides him until he cums and passes out

hi love! i’m having quite a good day so far. how are you doing???

trans evan my most beloved <3 oh this is absolutely delightful. i definitely agree with this wholeheartedly. leaving barty to just be punished…the torment…the level in which barty’s turned on…he’s pretty much sobbing by the time evan comes back in the room because he’s been good, as patient as possible. as much as he wanted to fight his punishment, he didn’t because he knew the reward would be better than anything else. just seeing evan on top of him, taking his time, it’s almost enough to make barty come on the spot. barty wants to touch so bad but he knows better than that. and when he finally comes to, evan is right there, stroking his hair and praising him for being such a “good boy” and “learning his lesson”. needless to say, barty’s does not learn his lesson because this happens more than once. i’m convinced of it. i want to live inside your brain good lord.

#han’s asks #trans evan anon #rosekiller #barty crouch jr #trans evan rosier my beloved

20 notes · View notes

weirdmorefics · 3 days

Note

benedict with a younger sister who he catches at one of the parties he goes to talking to a man who has less than innocent intentions with her and she’s oblivious and just thought it would be a fun place to drink bcs that’s what she’d heard when was out at the park earlier that day

A/N- Sorry for it taking a while I really am starting to believe in the fanfiction curse. I also made up the seedy guy who had unhonorable intentions in this story just an FYI.

Readers Pronouns- She/Her

TW- Sexism

Word Count- 1,653

Summary- Benedict goes to a local gathering of artists and happens to find his darling younger sister enjoying the company of some of Benedict's unsavory friends.

Unhonorable Intentions

I am a rake. I take no shame in this fact. I am allowed to be a free spirit it is my birthright as the second-born son. No obligations no responsibility. I would loathe to be in Anthony's shoes. Though Y/n seems to have made it her mission for me to walk in his shoes tonight. What is she even doing in a place like this? Last I knew she preferred literature over the arts. Yet she hangs on a man's arm as he explains his next work. in progress that he is sure will be his Magnus opus. I glare at them hopefully sister notices my gaze burning into her side so I can continue my night as if nothing happened. However, when I glare at them I realize who the man she is talking to is and now I know there is no way I can continue my night. Unfortunately said man felt my gaze instead of Y/n and smiled and pulled her forcefully along with him.

"Bridgerton! It's grand to see you! We've missed you at the club!" Alexander shakes my hand roughly and I return it with an insincere smile. "Saw you eyeing my new muse, I regret to inform you I don't share." God, I want to gag as I know what he does with his so-called muses. Y/n smiles at being called his muse she does love it when I draw her but this man does not have honorable intentions. He and I have very different definitions of what a muse is. My idea of a muse is someone who inspires you to create, Alexander's idea of a muse is a woman to sleep with and then abandon.

I straighten back to assert my taller posture over the man, "And I regret to inform you your so-called muse is my darling baby sister." I look down at her with demanding eyes, "I do say it is time we get back to Mother. Isn't Y/n?"

She looks taken aback by my tone, "What do you mean? I just got here."

Alexanders' grin increases tenfold, "A Bridgeton! Benedict I had no idea you were hiding such a beauty to yourself! If I was her brother I'd never let her out of the house either." This man is truly revolting the artist community here is unfortunately very small and I have to find a way to remain civil.

Y/n smiles, "So you know Alexander? That's too bad really I was hoping to learn some different art techniques from him to impart to you! I had no idea you knew such a famous artist!"

I grit my teeth, "Famous now Alexander are we?"

This flusters him for a moment but he recovers quickly, "Aren't all artists famous in a different sort of way?"

I want to laugh at such an absurd response… sadly Y/n is far too naive for her own good.

"I agree wholeheartedly! Benedict is the most famous artist in our family! I'm quite jealous of his talent I must admit! It makes sense he would be at such a regal event filled with so much talent. To be truthful I overheard this soiree would have fabulous drinks on this morning's promenade and couldn't resist," she gushes over my talents and breaks my heart for not being more present in my siblings' lives.

Anthony just seemed to have it all handled, Daphne was married off, Eloise could certainly hold her own ground, Francessa was so busy with her studies, and Mother had Gregory and Hycanith under control. Even though Y/n is Eloise's twin she couldn't be any more different she believes the best in everyone and is too quick to forgive in my opinion and Alexander is taking advantage of that and I will not let that stand.

I smile down at Y/n, "Y/n you downplay your own talents no need to associate with a man whose talents consist of preying on women through false pretenses."

Her eyes widen to the size of quarters, "Benedict you can not make such outrageous claims!"

I pretend to not know exactly what she is talking about, "You mean your talents? Your poetry talent is outrageous and that's not a claim it's just a fact."

She blushes at the compliment but for some asinine reason still wants to defend Alexander. Though it seemed her brain could not keep up with the unusual compliment from me and the unflattering words I spoke about Alexander she just stuttered unintelligible anger, shock, and joy all marking her face. Alexander on the other hand was just fuming red.

"First you insult me Bridgerton then you demean poetry as a genre by encouraging a woman to write it." he snarls.

I have never seen Y/n turn so quickly and before anyone in the room knows what's happening a resounding slap is heard over all the chatter and everyone turns to the noise. Alexander's eye is twitching and a red welt in the shape of my sister's hand is forming on his face. He glares at her with murderous eyes but she holds her head high I have never seen her this determined and it makes me wonder what else I missed while she was growing up and I was galavanting around with men like Alexander.

She points an angry finger at him like Mother would when she would scold us, "Gentleman like yourself actually I wouldn't even call men like you gentleman but that's beside the point. Men like you say women are too emotional to do anything but care for the home. Poetry is all about emotion it's supposed to make you feel something like the art you make, or apparently don't make from what I just learned from Benedict's side comment. I would also like to remind you who is in charge of our country or rather what sex they are?"

All eyes are on us and Alexander looks like he might strangle Y/n with his two hands if the vein bulging out of his forehead is any indicator.

"Oh and by the way when I complimented your line work on your latest piece I was lying it was shit but you know how men can be so emotional I didn't want to hurt your feelings," she fake pouted. This is definitely not the young sister I once knew she may still be naive but she has now learned to use her talent with words as a knife.

Alexander's arm shoots to roughly grab her but I am quick to block, "I'm Alexander but we must be going. It was so nice talking to you as always. I would definitely take my dear sister's words under advisement to spend more time working on your line art." I then pull him very closely into my body and if anyone hadn't seen the previous incident they would have thought it was just two chaps hugging. I whisper, "Less time with lines of ladies and coke you might find yourself able to make straight lines. And if I ever hear you laid a hand on my sister I will kill you myself." I roughly release him and he scrambles backwards ungracefully as all eyes on him.

I link arms with Y/n, "Come on we must really be going now."

Once we make it outside away from prying eyes she quickly bursts into sobs, "Gods what have I done! I was just so angry he'd judge me just based on my sex. God, what if Lady Whistledown writes about me!" She starts pacing with her hands on her forehead and this is the Y/n I am all too familiar with, " Oh God what if Mama reads it! What if I ruin the Bridgerton name? Anthony will never forgive me!"

I clap and quickly gain her attention back, "You certainly won't be the first Bridgerton featured in Lady Whistledown and I am certain you will not be the last."

"Not helping!' She shouts back.

"No one will be mad you stood your ground… in fact, I am quite proud of you."

Her eyes study me, "Are you serious? I just slapped your friend in a soiree full of your peers."

"Anthony was more of an acquaintance," I add.

She rolls her eyes, "That is not the point!"

I sigh, "Yes, I am proud. You defended your honor and didn't need my help to do so. Though I am sure any of your brothers would be there in a heartbeat to defend it including me."

She smiles, "You're proud of me."

"I am not saying it again," I state.

she starts to repeat you're proud of me in a sing-songy voice.

"My pride in you is diminishing and my worry is growing. I think I will be around more often seems like Anthony isn't keeping a watchful enough eye on you if he let you go to a seedy event like this."

She tilts her head, "But you were at the event?"

"Exactly I only attend seedy events, though it appears now I must reform. Think of me has your second Anthony," maybe having responsibilities won't be so bad if I get to see Y/n chew out more men like Alexander.

She groans, "I don't want another Anthony how will I ever do anything fun."

"That's the point Y/n," I smile.

She groans, "I hope Lady Whistledown writes you into the story and makes you sound dreadful."

"As long as she writes how daring and smart my younger sister is we will be on good terms," I smile as she groans again at her failed attempt to get under my skin.

"Thank you, I guess," she responds.

I may be late in helping my siblings but at least they all still have some more growing to do and I plan to be there for all of it.

#bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x you #bridgerton request #bridgerton siblings #bridgerton!sister x reader #bridgerton!sister x y/n

38 notes · View notes

blueish-bird · 14 days

Text

sorry if I don’t remember your name or conversations/experiences or basic things about myself, every few weeks my brain gets factory reset and I have to relearn how to be alive

#lighthearted but also serious bc what is going on here buddy #been feeling weird as hell these past few months #like I can remember some stuff… but it doesn’t feel normal to forget the names of anyone I haven’t seen/heard the name of in a few days #or forget about basic interests and personality traits and experiences and feel like a blank slate every day #idk like ultimately life goes on and I’m happy to live in the moment but it would be nice to understand why my brain is doing this #just thinking #meposting #I think my brain just. does this sometimes when I’m stressed. which is annoying #I recall (lmao) feeling similar during earlier parts of life so this isn’t *new* it’s just unexpected and much more disruptive as an adult #I’m feeling better about it than I was. after like. acknowledging it. bc my mind has not always felt like a sieve it isn’t always this bad.#whatever #I’ll tag as dissociation just in case it’s related/reminiscent and ppl don’t want to see that #dissociation #me and her go way back… haven’t seen each other in years though #she wasnt all bad! coping mechanisms can provide relief and a sense of safety #and as far as coping mechanisms go it’s not the most unhealthy. though it ranks high in ‘socially stunting’#I kind of miss the distance sometimes to be honest everything’s just So Much all the time #I’m so solid now #so stuck in the ruts of capitalism #fuck capitalism #I wish my imagination didn’t feel so dulled #sorry I love talking #and I don’t miss dissociation when I feel mentally present because I feel so Here with the people and things I love but rn?#it’s like a lose-lose bc I am not Here nor am I untethered. I’m heavy yet hold nothing #I enjoy being dramatic/poetic about it — I feel pretty fine. I just hope this isn’t a permanent and/or long-term state of existence.#like it makes me awful at my job I went from remembering a solid amount of the student body’s names (built up over a few years) to. like 5.#overnight it felt like. like Stressful Thing happened and I went to work and I couldn’t remember anyone’s names.#can’t believe I have to start from fucking scratch AGAIN I’d be better off quitting and working at a different school #bc at least then my lack of knowledge/remembering is justified rather than strange and seemingly rude #I’m getting better now but at the beginning of this it was blue screen in my brain all the time

4 notes · View notes

romanticfistfightz · 17 days

Text

a list of everything that went wrong today bc if i dont complain and joke about it ill think too much . under read more cuz its 20 points.

my mother got a speeding ticket bc she was 10km/h over . on an empty road at 5am but it wasnt cops ther ebut the one that flashes its not happened to me exactly but it went wrong

had to pay 260pln at the airport cuz the fucking ryanair app didnt work properly and didnt give me my boarding pass when i definitely clicked download and then gave me an "unknown error"

already stressed went to the gate . looked at my boarding pass . only one bag. fuck

paid anothe 200 to be able to take my luggage with me already sweating and shaking (at least the vodka in dutyfree was on sale)

the dude taking my payment told me to take out electronics and meds cuz "these bags get lost sometimes" causing me to die instantly

i gave my bag to a dude next to my plane so he can put it inside the plane with other checked in bags . which should make me more normal cuz like i gave it to him and saw him walk to put it in

didnt help. i was already panicking. what if he took it to a different plane (there were no other planes) . what if he took it for himself and hid it (its bright fucking yellow someone would see it) . what if the plane runs it over (????)

had my adhd toy and was very nervously playing with it and sweating and the lady sitting next to me asked if everythings okay (probably assuming im scared of flying/planes/heights) . so that was nice of her i told her im having an awful day but thanks for asking

the emergency instructions that they give every time made me worse. the plane shook when flying up (normal) and i was sure its crashing . the force of flying up felt different i was sure the engines stopped and died

realized i need to throw up NOW so i went to the bathroom and threw up a bit. never threw up thousands of meters into the air

didnt wanna flush it cuz what if it sucks out too much and sucks out my bag and it falls out

the rest of the flight was fine i chilled out n saw mt etna which is fun i always wanted to see a volcano

landed. started freaking out a bit cuz my bag wasnt coming out for a long time (normal time) and what if they lost it the numbes were slightly different what if somone already took it- oh nvm here it is

cool going for the bus oh wait i need to have coins to pay for the ticket i just bought a carbs free(?) beer for 1.90eur at the airport

wanted to smoke so i wanted to grab my cigarettes from my backpack and realized half of my shampoo spilled out for some fucking reason and the ziplock wasnt closed fully so my backpack (with my laptop charger cables and most important handbound physical copy of unholyverse which was a gift from my bf) was in shampoo and i had no tissues

okay crisis averted it wasnt as bad as i thought. oh shit im almost late for my bus the next ones in 1.5h

managed to get in . and it even had ac. doesnt matter the zip on my backpack broke but after a 10min fight i fixed it

my phones at 7% i need to climb uphill to get to my hotel . the checkins not until 3pm (it was 11.30 at the time its 12.30 now)

okay fine i have an adapter ill charge my phone a bit and go for a walk . yeah sure lmao the adapter doesnt work apparently so im charging my phone from my laptop

well at least theres two swimming pools so ill go swim for the first time in 8yrs.

#anyway i really hope this is all the bad luck i had for this trip #other than crabs being at the aquarium . but that happens #at this point (not actielly having a problem to deal with) its quite funny . how does this always happen to me

2 notes · View notes

strwbrymlkshake · 1 year

Text

Why can't I be satisfied with everything? It needs to be perfect to me and I can't accept anything otherwise :(

#mine #oh boy here we go. guy last post was about has been pretty cool and i got flustered around him a few times #but i feel bad bc. i need m o r e he isnt insane enough he isnt making me go absolutely crazy i want to be satisfied but im NOT im sorry #like its quite honestly the most attention acceptance etc ive gotten but its not ENOUGH he doesnt die whenever i send a selfie #im never satisfied WHY i have unrealistic expectations !!!! i hate my brain killing and violence and death etc #i get crushes on guys who want nothing to do with me but then when one actually wants me its not enough? what is wrong with me #thrill of the chase? i cant accept being loved? what is it brain. christ almighty. im not doing anything like deliberately yandere related #anymore im just being generally incomprehensibly mentally ill 🙄 still trying to find a therapist but idk how on earth ill explain that #ill update this post tomorrow with more insanity but for now i am the sleepy tired #// ok its now 3 days later i dont feel like making another post. i think i was just having a mental illness moment as always #because he does make me insane. hashtag girl. im trying to be the smartest and calculated i have ever been with a relationship in my life #like im thinkin about it so hard bro. the future n shit. how would this relationship go. im so scared ill do something wrong its preventing #me from doing things RIGHT. im sad becaude i flipped out today over even imagining him being upset with me a little #so i was really embarrassed and it put me in a weird mood for the rest of the night but he reassured me he doesnt hate me or want me to die #every one aaalways says theyre different. i can only hope this one is telling the truth. i dont know what ill do if he isnt.#well i need to stop whining about fictional scenarios and focus on the good stuff in reality. i get along with him very well and he #is very niceys to me :3 he doesnt think im fucking insane or stupid for overreacting. i feel very comfortable gossiping and talking w him #every long time blog viewer of mine reading this like ah shit here we go again #but thats what im here for. i guess. just have to keep doing this shit until something good finally happens to me romantically hngh #i feel so strange because i have wanted and yearned for a relationship but now that i actually could have one im like WAIT #I DIDNT THINK ID GET THIS FAR 💀💀💀 bruh. and he doesnt even think im stupid hes respectful to me he checks in on me all the time #like perhaps the only person to ever actually almost match my energy in a romantic sense. there was [redacted] i guess but he didnt love me #he listens to me talk about my problems he doesnt think i complain or overreact too much. all the ridiculous cringe shit i do #he doesnt mind it. its nice to be able to be myself. and im really proud of myself for not rushing into a relationship right away

20 notes · View notes

bibridlizzie · 1 year

Text

Hizzie (nonbinary Hope x girlflux Lizzie)

#fun fact for those who dont know i did write a lizzie centric fic with her being girlflux and hope being agenderflux like a year ago #which is weird in that it does actually feel that long. like normally nothing eber feels like it happened as long ago as it did #but like i got and quit my first job in that year. like two huge changes and i think thats why it DOES feel like it was a year ago #and like jesus. 2022 sure was a year for me huh.#actually the fic was written in september 2021 but like still yknow 2022 is where everything happened #anyway. sorry for the rant I guess. i mean not really i just dont know how to end this rant i think #hizzie #hope x lizzie #legacies #legaciesedit #hizzieedit #nbvethbrenatto #hizzie edit #legacies edit #legacies cw #cw legacies #my moodboards #ship #god i had coworkers and managers for the first time and i had my first interview and i got quit my first job and i had my first coworker #friendship and my first bad manager and i made friends with two guys who worked at a nearby store where i brought thrm freezes and theyd #give me free cookies and like that's not a relationship i think I'd even imagine before. (that first time i brought freezes when i went to #buy some food on my break i wasnt expcting anything i was just trying to be nice but i love how we became friends and we dont talk anymote #but I'll always appreciate the relationship we had that id never imagined before.i had a lot of money fairly consistency for the first time #and had work breaks for the first time and i have to file taxes for the first time like jesus.there's just been so many changes and so many #things have happened since i wrote that and just in the past year in general and its so strange and i feel like a completely different #person. yknow. which to be fair i kind of always frel like fairly past me is a different person but like especially now. i dont know if ive #ever felt this different after a year. anyway yeah i hope anyone whos still somehow reading is having a great day and is proud of anything #theyve accomplished this year. you deserve it (not for reading this lol just in general). small victorious are also worth celebrating btw #like you should be proud even for the smallest of accomplishments and even just for surviving this far <333 proud of you all #god how have i not ran out of tags?

12 notes · View notes

wonder-falcon · 1 year

Text

the male drews are so tiktok thirst trap icky stop this madness….

not the girls tho y’all stay safe out there ✊🥰

#roommates with benefits #choices #also i cannot believe the audacity of this book title LMAO what happened to being classy 😭😭#i know they had some questionable romance book but this title is straight out of wattpad 😭😭😭#i’ve only read the first two chapters and well 😄 it’s something that’s for sure #but f!drew is hot! so who am i to complain ✊#and there’s a new mc sprite as well that’s actually drop dead gorgeous #but she’s missing that goofy choices mc look a little #pretty but at the cost of losing that quirky choices mc spirit 💀#which is a good thing but also a bad thing bc you knowww every mc is quirky-coded in choices but in rwb she doesn’t quite fit anymore #and maybe i miss it but also not rlly bc she’s so pretty i’m falling in love with my own mc like #hope this makes sense #she just does not have that goofy open heart mc shocked face or the funny bloodbound mc grin 😭#not complaining tho i love her 🥰#in terms of the book tho it’s like bad but in a i-am-12-again-reading-terrible-books-on-wattpad-that-i-cannot-stop-reading #peak of fiction personally so bad so horrible so cringey that i just eat right up!#this is a lot of thoughts in the tags but i have so many thoughts i keep going #okay last thing i hope they don’t make mc get so influenced that she’s flunking classes and stuff 😭😭#ik it’s the goody teachers pet x rebellious sex god trope but please 😭😭 have SOME class #playchoices

5 notes · View notes

danveration · 3 months

Text

Sleep well, amour.

Parings: Alastor x reader

Summary: You’ve been very intrested in Alastor ever since you met him. He invites you to see his recording studio, which you accept. Then you ask if you can stay and listen to him host! While listening, you fall asleep. How does he react?

Word count: 2844

Warnings: Ummm not really much? Alastor being Alastor! One mention of not being able to sleep sometimes, mention of seeing people in hell doing dr*gs, k*lling eachother, and fighting, mention of reader having bad social skills (?)

part two

A/N: UM!! this is my first time writing for alastor, so apologies if it isn’t the best. Please give me any feedback you want, I’d love to hear it! Also sorry for any spelling mistakes. I hope you enjoy :’)

Alastor the radio demon. You know of the things he’s done, you know that people are quite literally terrified of him. But for some reason... you feel a certain way towards him that you can’t describe, but it’s surely not fear.

You’ve had a some-what odd admiration of him since you landed in hell, only a few months ago. You got spotted by Charlie when you first got to hell. She noticed you looking around nervously and lost, and put two and two together that you must be new. She very kindly introduced herself which was refreshing because.. well.. it’s hell. Everywhere you looked people were fighting, doing drugs, and even killing each other. You were glad there were kind people even down here.

“Hi, you! Uh, you lost?” Charlie smiled you and waved.

“Um yeah! I’m guessing this is hell, huh?” You awkwardly chuckle. Social skills weren’t ever your thing, it seems they haven’t got better after you died, either.

“Yep! This is hell! You must be new? I’m Charlie! Charlie Morningstar. It’s so nice to meet you.” She smiled and stuck out her hand for you to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Charlie! My names Y/n.” You politely smiled back and shook her hand.

After that meeting, Charlie showed you to the hotel in which you eagerly accepted to stay at, her being the only sane thing you’ve seen down here. It was a pretty nice place, no 5 star hotel like back on earth, but it was something you’re very grateful for. Who knows what would’ve happened to you if you haven’t met her.

While she was showing you around, someone caught your eye. He was a tall man, very polite and respectful looking. He was dressed head to toe in old fashioned attire, with a cane to suit his charming look. He was smiling in a way that made you look at him like he was something you wanted to inspect under a magnifying glass.

He glanced at you and smiled larger, stepping over to you and Charlie.

“My, my! What do we have here? Charlie! You didn’t tell me that we’ve got more guests? It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear! The names Alastor!” He spoke politely.

His voice was sort of.. Radio-like? You found it soothing.

“Haha yeah! I found them wandering around on the street this morning! They’re a newcomer, their name is Y/n.” She spoke back, excited to introduce you.

“Y/n! Well, my, my. That’s quite a lovely name!” He said. “Say.. do you listen to radio? I host a brilliant radio broadcast that’ll give you some real insight on this place!” He said enthusiastically.

“Oh.. haha thank you” You smile. “I do actually! I love radio shows.” You immediately feel drawn towads him. You cant tell if it’s just the new scenery or what.. but you want to just sit and chat with him for hours.

Alastor perks up at that. “Oh you do, do you?” He smiled more.

“Yeah! Back when I was.. uhm.. alive, I actually had a whole playlist of them! What do you do your show about?” You ask.

Alastor is delighted to have you take interest in his show. “Well, dear, I do all sorts of things on there! Yes, yes, you think of it and I’ve most probably done it! Most commonly known is the souls I entrap and prison, as I broadcast their screams of horror all over this horrible place and people get to hear the noises of their never-ending torture and demise. But! I also just made a wonderful segment on my mother’s Jambalaya recipe!” He stated.

While part of those sentences gave you chills, you still seemed to take interest in him.

“Well,” you chuckle. “I will certainly check it out!” You smile.

“Ah! Wonderful news, my dear.” He said while he twirled his cane.

Charlie was watching you interact with him and noticed how you looked at him, as if admiring. She smile and said, “well! We better finish the tour.”

She motions for you to follow her and you do, waving Alastor goodbye.

He waves back and yells, “goodbye, sweetheart! Lovely to have met you.”

After that, you wanted absolutely everything to do with him. You’ve also got to know the other people staying at the hotel. Angel, Vaggie, Husk, Niffty, and Sir Pentious. They were overall kind people. Husk found your interest in Alastor to be no good.

“Yeah, no. That, whatever thing you have created in your mind about him, isn’t true. He’s vile, Y/n. Trust me on that.” He grunts.

Angel thought you had some kind of kink towards “scary, creepy men.” Which wasn’t true because you didn’t even find him scary. You found him charming.

“Ah.. Alastor? Fucking sexy weirdo if I do say so myself. He’s got some reaaal problems but hey, if you’re into that-“ You cut him off by saying it wasn’t like that & that you don’t think anything sexual towards him.

One day, you were talking to Sir Pentious about his “crush” on Cherry Bomb. He completely denied it but you could tell from his blush and his nervous demeanour that he was very interested in her.

You were caught off guard when you heard that radio voice coming up from behind you.

“Y/n, my dear! I have a question for you.” Alastor came and stood beside you, looking down from where you’re sitting.

“Al! Hey, what’s up?” You ask, containing your excitement.

Sir Pentious excused himself quickly, seeing one of his “egg boys” were being played with by Niffty. She isn’t one to be gentle.

“So, I know how you’ve been listening to my radio show as of late, and I was wondering if you’d like to see where the magic happens!” He states.

“R-really? I’d be honoured!” You say, smiling.

“Ah! Lovely. Come now, this way.”

You get up and he locks arms with you and chats about his new microphone that he got.

Once you guys arrive, you’re shocked. It looks very professional and comfortable. It suits him heavily. There’s a big open window, a desk, some chairs and sofas, a bunch of technical stuff on the desk along with his new mic that you recognize from his descriptions, and a deer coat hanger?

“Wow, Alastor. This place is so actually so sick. I love it. And the new microphone suits you!” You say. “Thank you for showing me, really.”

Typically, Alastor would never show someone something personal of his, including his studio, but you are an exception. He isn’t sure what it is about you but he doesn’t seem to hate you as much as he does with anyone else. At first he was weirded out, but now he just embraces it. He also feels protective of you. He doesn’t know exactly why you’re even down here. For as far is he can tell, you’re an angel. Always being kind even to those who aren’t kind to you, always saying “please” and “thank you,” all that jazz. Jazz! You even like jazz music, his favourite. He told you that he lived on earth the time jazz music was popular. The 20’s and 30’s. That explains his vocabulary and how he dresses. You just find it more interesting and take time to ask questions about what it was like in that time.

“Why of course, my dear! If I’d want to show anyone here, it would be you.” He says, giving you his iconic smile.

You have a thought. “Hey, Al? Would it be alright if the next time you do a show, I could stay and listen?”

You hope he doesn’t think this is odd.

Alastor raises a brow. “Why would you want to do that?” He asks.

You panic, thinking you went too far by asking and now he’s going to cut you off or something.

“Ha! Kidding, sweetheart! Of course you can. I love when my broadcast is wanted to be listened to. Though I love it as well when they don’t want to.” He says.

You’re relieved, a bit scared, but still relieved.

“Say!” He says. “I was going to make one tonight talking about this silly technology box that thinks he is better than me! You know, expose all his lies and secrets to my listeners, and unwilling listeners. Maybe broadcast it all throughout hell!” He starts laughing manically. Then calms down and stares at you.

“Would you want to stay and listen, hm? I can do it now! I didn’t have any plans today going forward and well, getting it out sooner is better than later, I always say.” He asks.

You know he’s talking about Vox when he mentioned the technology box. Him and Vox have a sort of rivalry going on. Though Alastor seems to not care much about him, Vox is sure obsessed. He’s even gone so far as to making posters about him. Which areee.. not much of a resemblance.

This offer strikes you and you immediately perk up. “Yes! I’d love to.” You say.

You don’t think Alastor knows this but whenever you’re struggling to sleep, you put on his radio show and his voice comforts you to sleep. You’re sure if you told him, he would find it weird.

Little did you know, Alastor already knew. He walked past your room one night and heard static sounds coming from your quarters. He immediately was intrigued and put his ear close to your door to hear his voice. He was surprised, but not weirded out. He found it delightful that you found comfort in his voice. It’s not everyday someone does. Usually it invokes terror and anxiety on anyone who hears. This was new, and he didn’t hate it.

“Lovely! Let me get all set up. You can sit wherever you feel the most comfortable!” He says, adjusting his mic and pressing a buttons on his table.

You find a spot and sit down. Feeling honored to even be in the same room as him, let alone HIS room.

“Ahem! Welcome ladies and gentlemen-“ He goes off into his introduction, before winking at you and starting.

After about 20 minutes, you begin to feel tired and put your head on the side of the wall, still listening but with your eyes closed.

Alastor immediately notices and smirks, knowing how his voice effects you. He continues on and after about another 20 minutes, he finishes up. You’re asleep, slightly smiling.

He walks over to you and looks down.

“My, my. You really are an interesting one, aren’t you?” He whispers. He smiles more softly than he usually does and looks around to find a purple blanket hanging on his deer coat hanger, and gently places it on you.

He feels his heart fluttering while looking down at you and he immediately shrugs it off.

“Mm well, my dear.. I guess you can stay here. I’ll just be over there, transferring my broadcast to the other radios around town.” He says and points to his table.

“Sleep well, amour.” He speaks softly.

#:alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon x reader #the radio demon x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader hazbin hotel #hes so pookie bear guys UGUHG #i love him sm #my works #alastor imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor x you

7K 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