#[ i apparently have Feelings about that whole mess ]
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Summary: Tommy's helicopter crashes. He survives but is too injured to move. It takes a while until Tommy is found and while he's waiting, some ghosts come to visit.
(Tw for injuries, blood, homophobic language)
The birds are singing. Their unsuspecting chirrup turns into an orchestra of countless echo voices. A soft breeze makes the leaves rustle and Tommy feels it wander over his face, pleasantly fresh on his heated skin. Under his hands, the grass is warm and soft. Feels nice. He could lay here forever, peacefully listening to nature and thinking about nothing at all.
But a voice floating in the background of his confused mind disturbs his peace. Tommy can’t make out the words at first, but suddenly, they push forward, push through the darkness, sharp and rough like breaking glass: Get up!
Tommy frowns. He knows that voice …
Come on. Get up. Get up and stop crying like a girl! I didn’t raise a fucking princess, did I?
Dad? That can’t be. His Dad is dead. Still … It’s hard to ignore the words. Their phantom ache makes him shudder and he tries to open his eyes. They are heavy. So heavy. Not the only thing that feels like a weight pulling him down. His body … What’s wrong with it? Every muscle aches and there’s a numb pulsing feeling in his side. And his head … There’s a steady shattering pounding. Feels like someone is swinging a hammer against his brain.
Tommy groans and tries to reach for his head, but he’s too weak to even raise his hand. When he grimaces, he feels something hot and sticky clinging to his skin. Blood?
What happened?
With a groan of pain, Tommy raises his head a fraction that feels like a whole damn mile. All he can see are tree tops, towering around him in a perfect circle.
And … the sun. He sees the sun. It’s right above him. White, hot and blazing. Tommy wishes he could move away from it. A bit of shade would be nice. But he still can’t get his body to function.
He swallows and coughs. His throat feels raw and when he licks his lips, they are completely dry. Confusion pulls him into a maelstrom in which time has no meaning at all. Is he in the desert? Was he shot down? What about his team? God. Markus was shot in the chest, wasn’t he? He bled out in the helicopter, begging for some water …
Tommy blinks. No. No, that was years ago. He isn’t in the army anymore.
God. His brain is really messed up right now. He tries so hard to reach a single coherent thought. He was flying, wasn’t he? He was flying and … There was a problem, Tommy vaguely remembers. A technical problem with the main rotor control. Might have hit a tree after … after putting out the wildfire? There was a big fire. Orange flames growing and consuming the forest.
There’s more … Memories start to trickle through the fog in Tommy’s brain. Black smoke. Ear piercing beeping. The nausea-inducing sensation of losing control.
Did he crash? Obviously. Tommy understands now. He’s injured but somehow he must have made it out of the helicopter. But only to bleed out on some clearing apparently. Alone. Great.
Tommy feels resignation settling in. A crushing weight pressing down on his weakly beating heart. He can’t move. He can’t scream. He can only lay there, underneath the merciless sun, and feel life trickling out of him steadily.
“There you are.”
Tommy flinches. That voice. He knows that one too.
Sal’s grinning face appears in his field of vision. Sal … Tommy hasn’t seen the man in years, hasn’t even thought about him. But there he stands, his hands shoved into the pockets of his turnouts. “What? Were you expecting your boyfriend?” He asks, raising a brow.
Tommy can only stare at Sal. He doesn’t understand … Where is he coming from? Why is he here? How …
It doesn’t matter. His eyes start to fall again. He’s so damn tired …
“Hey!” Sal says sharply and suddenly, he’s crouching beside Tommy, shaking him by his shoulder. Can ghosts shake you? “You need to stay awake. Don’t want your pretty boy to find your lifeless corpse, do you? You know, I always had a feeling you were into guys. You were in Team Jacob after all, huh?"
Tommy wants to tell him he’s an asshole. But he’s too exhausted. His vision flickers and when he manages to focus again, Sal is gone. He was never really there. A few birds circle on the piece of blue sky above Tommy and the sun is still there, radiating unbearable heat.
He has no idea how much time passed until steps approach him. Phantom-Sal is gone. Someone else's face hovers above him. It’s Gerrard this time, with his cold piercing eyes that always seem to judge what they see.
“Look at you,” Gerrard says, his mouth pulling down into a disdainful scowl. “You’re pathetic. I was there for you, Tommy. I gave you what you were so desperately seeking. A team. A family. A purpose. And after everything I did for you, you filed a complaint behind my back? For what, huh?”
We weren’t a family, Tommy thinks weakly, closing his eyes. And you were never a real Captain. I was too blind, too stupid, to see it. But Hen opened my eyes …
“You might think they care about you,” Gerrard bites, “But I don’t think they do. Not really. They just want you as long as you can be useful. And that boyfriend of yours … I don’t think he really loves you. Why would he? You’re just this exciting new thing he discovered and he is going to ditch you, as soon as he comes across something - someone - better. You could have had it all, Tommy. With my support, you could have been someone important. Instead, you chose to live in fairytale land. Well, good luck with that, son.”
Silence comes back.
When Tommy opens his eyes again, Gerrard is gone. Fortunately. Tommy sighs and stares at the treetops, which are gently swaying in the wind. They are blurry. Not long anymore, maybe. Not much longer, he imagines, until he can finally sleep in peace …
“Tommy.”
Evan. Evan?! Tommy forces his eyes to focus and he gasps when he sees Evan kneeling by his side, looking down at him with open worry in his eyes. “Oh, Tommy. What happened?”
Too much. “Evan,” Tommy breathes, finding his voice again. “Evan. It hurts.”
“I know.” Evan takes his hand. “Hold on. Just a little longer.”
I don’t know if I can, Tommy thinks, already feeling darkness reaching for him again. I’m so tired, Evan.
Evan squeezes his hand gently. “Hold on,” he repeats. And then he lets go. No … Tommy feels a sob dying on his chapped lips. Please stay. Please. Don’t you leave me too …
But Evan is already gone. He wasn’t real. Of course, he wasn’t. Tommy is alone. He’s going to die here alone. He was always supposed to be alone.
Tommy closes his eyes and this time, he doesn’t even try to stay awake. He just wants to not feel anything anymore.
“Tommy!”
Evan’s voice cuts through the silence like a knife.
Tommy groans. Not again …
“Tommy!”
“You’re not here,” Tommy whispers. “You’re not here …”
And I’m not here anymore either.
A wave of relief rushes through Buck, followed by immediate, heart-aching horror.
“God. Oh God,” he mutters, sliding down a slope, not caring about the branches and thorns that scratch him. His eyes are on Tommy, who’s lying down there, stretched out in the grass, exposed to the blazing sun. “I found him,” he pants into his mic. “I found Tommy. Hurry.”
Tommy is not moving and Buck doesn’t even see if he’s breathing. He fights back the tears, stumbling towards his boyfriend, sinking to his knees beside him and reaching out to check for a pulse. His trembling fingers find it and he exhales in relief, but … there’s so much blood. It’s on Tommy’s face and soaks his clothes and turns into a puddle in the grass.
“Tommy!” Buck frantically reaches for one of Tommy’s hands, squeezing it. “Tommy, wake up! Please …”
Tommy’s eyes flutter, but barely open. He whispers something inaudible. Buck bends over and strains to hear Tommy’s words. When he does, he feels like a fist curls around his heart and crushes it slowly.
“I wish you’d be real,” Tommy is muttering, his voice fading fast. “Don’t want to … to be alone. Wish you were here … with me …”
Tears run over Buck’s face. “I am here, Tommy. I am. You’re not alone. See?” He cups Tommy’s face with his free hand, ignoring the blood. “I’m here! Open your eyes! Look at me!”
But Tommy’s eyes remain closed and instead of words, a last groan comes over his lips, before he falls completely silent and Buck freezes, wails in horror and he doesn’t know what to do, this can’t be the end, this can’t be -
“Buck!” Hen appears, grabs him by his shoulders and shakes him a little. “Snap out of it and move, let us take care of him!”
Buck blinks, taking a deep breath. “Yeah. Sure … I …” He lets go of Tommy’s lifeless hand, scrambles to his feet and stumbles backwards, staring at the blood on his hands. He feels numb. Feels like he’s being pulled down into a freezing ocean. Deeper and deeper, until the light of the surface disappears …
Tears blur his vision and he barely sees what’s happening. Barely sees them working on Tommy. His Tommy. Buck finally sits on a stone and hides his face in his hands, until Hen approaches him and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Buck. We’re taking him to the hospital now. You’re going to go with him, okay?”
Buck swallows. “Okay.” He looks up, seeing Tommy on a stretcher, his shallow breaths fogging the oxygen mask on his bloody, scratched-up, sunburnt face. “He thought I’m not real …,” he breathes. “He thought he was alone.”
Hen looks at him, her eyes softening. Her hand stays on Buck’s shoulder, rubbing gentle circles there. “He’s dehydrated, lost a lot of blood, was exposed to the heat and clearly has a concussion. He really was not able to think clearly at that moment, Buck.”
Buck takes a deep, shaking breath. “Okay. Alright. But … But he’s gonna be fine right? Right?!”
“Everyone’s doing what they can, Buck,” Hen says gently. “You know that.”
But in the end, she doesn’t say, nothing is certain.
That’s just life.
+++
Buck gets it now. He really does. All the times he was in a hospital bed, with everyone worrying about him. He has no idea how they survived this. It hurts so damn much.
Time passes barely noticeable around him. Feels like honey, slowly and thickly dripping out of a bottle.
Buck sits on his plastic chair, holds Tommy’s hand and stares at his boyfriend’s face, waiting. For something. For a sign. All he gets are random twitches of a muscle. Tommy looks too small in that bed. He looks too vulnerable. Buck feels the urge to cover him from the world.
Come on, he thinks desperately. Wake up. Please wake up. I need you to wake up.
At the same time, he knows Tommy’s body needs the rest. It’s been through a lot. Severe dehydration, concussion, broken ribs, blood loss from an open gash in his side, sunburn, signs of sunstroke, several scratches and bruises … Buck felt a bit lightheaded when he heard the doctor rambling down that overwhelming list.
But Tommy will live. He’s stable and recovering. He’ll live. Buck wasn’t always sure about that. Especially not in the first few moments of his nightmare, when they had confirmation that it was indeed Tommy’s helicopter that crashed.
For a long horrible moment, Buck thought he would never talk to Tommy again. Would never get to touch or kiss him again. Would never smile and laugh and cry with him. And the abyss inside his chest seemed to have no bottom. He was falling. Helplessly tumbling down into the darkness - until he found Tommy. Alive.
Buck sighs and yawns. Maddie told him to get some rest. Everyone told him so. But he can’t.
In the end, he falls asleep on that chair, still holding onto Tommy’s hand and listening to the steady beeping of the heart monitor.
+++
When Tommy opens his eyes, he sees white. But this time, it’s not the sun. It’s ceiling and walls and the blanket of a hospital bed. Hospital. Ah. So he survived. He doesn’t even know how to feel about that. He was so sure that he would die on that clearing … But then, there was more than one moment in his life, when he was ready to accept death.
Tommy carefully sits up and groans at the shoot of pain in his side. He raises a hand to rub at the bandage wrapped around his head, sighs and then realizes he's not alone.
Evan is sleeping on a chair beside the bed, his head tilted backwards at a clearly painful angle and his mouth slightly open. He looks … stressed. Tommy takes him in and his heart aches. Evan is here. Evan was in the clearing. He was real. He came.
Tommy can’t help himself, so he reaches out to touch Evan’s hand, which is lying on the bed, as if he’s even reaching out to Tommy in his sleep. Evan winces and wakes up, his eyes a bit hazy, until they fall on Tommy and widen. “You’re awake!” Evan rubs the sleep out of his eyes and face, then smiles at Tommy lopsidedly. “How are you feeling?”
Loved. Saved. Not alone, Tommy thinks. “Like I crashed my helicopter and almost turned into a roasted chicken nugget again,” he says.
Evan chuckles. He takes Tommy’s hand in his, mindful of the IV line, and squeezes gently. “I’m so glad to see your eyes,” he says seriously. And Tommy feels like his throat is suddenly too tight for his breaths. “I’m glad to see you too, Evan. I … I’m sorry you had to worry about me.”
Evan shakes his head. “I’m just so glad, you’re okay, Tommy. We’re all glad. Uh, the flowers are from Hen and Karen. And everyone brought a card.” He points at the night table and Tommy’s throat feels even tighter when he discovers a bunch of flowers cards and … a teddy bear. A huge teddy bear, hugging a little plush tiger. “Wow,” Tommy breathes, tears burning in his eyes. “That’s … Wow.”
“Yeah. That teddy is from Christopher. And the tiger is from Denny and Mara. Mara said you’re just as brave as her tiger,” Evan says, smiling.
Tommy really can’t breathe. He swallows heavily. “I … I don’t even know what to say.”
I’m glad to be alive. I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad I have a family now.
Family. Tommy remembers ghost-Gerrard and shudders.
“You’re okay?” Evan asks worriedly, as always picking up fast.
“Uh, yeah. I … When I was laying there, dying, I … I saw a bunch of people. Hallucinations. It was scary,” Tommy admits.
“You can tell me all about it,” Evan says. “Ghosts get less scary when you let them go. That’s what I learned in therapy at least.”
Tommy nods. Letting ghosts go. He likes that image. But right now, he feels really tired. He thinks he wants to go back to sleep. And with Evan here, he feels safe enough, to do just that. “I’m tired.”
“Alright,” Evan says, giving Tommy’s hand a gentle squeeze again before letting go and standing up. “You’re taking a nap, and I’m going to get your doctor, okay? Just so she can take a look at you.”
“Kay,” Tommy mutters, already half-asleep. He smiles when he feels Evan give him a gentle kiss on his bandaged head. “Love you.”
“I love you too,” Evan says, his voice breaking a bit. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
And Tommy believes him. Now, he believes him.
It’s all real.
Find it on AO3
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Cloudy With a Chance of Murder.
Part I: leaving the crime scene.
Part II: the phone call.
Part III: a visit to the morgue.
Part IV: the lunch break.
Part V: lunch part II.
Part VI: the perfect cover.
Part VII: the storage closet.
Part VIII: case closed.
Part IX: finding their way.
Must you always be so... so stubborn, Katie?
Apparently, the answer to the question her parent's had frustratedly asked her on many occasions was a big, fat yes.
It's not that she hadn't tried to be a little softer, a little less headstrong. She had decided - the moment she arrived home, alone... again - that she could forgive and forget this whole mess. Because, like Lanie had said (and like she already knew) Castle had only done what he thought was the right thing.
He had explained how they had ended up in his Loft rather than the fancy restaurant he had made reservations at. He had explained the alarming phone call, the shattering glass. And he had explained that no matter what he said or did, Kristina had been on a mission to get exactly what she wanted.
If anything, he was the victim in all of this. Maybe, just maybe, it was her who owed him an apology.
Then, as if timed by fate itself, there was a knock at her door.
He came bearing a heartfelt apology, the intent to start and finish a true conversation about them (one they probably should have had before returning to work, but better late than never) and a promise. A promise that he understands, that is scared too, but that he truly believes they can find their way.
And just like that, she was ready to forgive.
She leant in, smile still bright on her face, and Castle dipped his head to brush his lips against hers. However, it seemed forgiving was going to be much easier than forgetting. The images she had spent the better half of the night fighting off flooded back to the forefront of her mind and she pulled back from the impending we're good now kiss.
"I'm sorry, I can't," she said as she shook her head slightly, hoping to erase the images like an etch-a-sketch. "It's too soon. I just keep seeing her boobs in your face."
She walked away, just a few steps to gain a little bit of distance, a little bit of perspective. She just wanted her mind to stop taunting her like this. She wanted the memories to be gone, for good.
And then came the softly spoken, heartbroken words that managed to do exactly that.
"Do y- do you want me to leave?"
She turned to face him, took in the pained look of regret that was etched so deep in the tired lines of his face and shook her head.
"No," she said definitively, closing the space between them. "I'm sorry, I'm just tired."
And confused, and angry, and a little hurt; but mostly just tired.
She reached up and delicately traced her thumb over his cheek.
"Stay with me?" she whispered the request. "Please."
He nodded, followed as she led him toward her bedroom. He removed his clothing, down to his boxers, as she pulled back the covers and climbed onto the bed. Kneeling, she moved over to his side and placed her hands on his hips. He joined her on the mattress, kneeling before her, and brushed the hair of her ponytail over her shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Kate," he whispered and she nodded.
"Me too."
She leaned in, kissed him slowly. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting - the taste of betrayal, perhaps - but his lips, his tongue; it just tasted like him. Sweet, loyal, hopelessly in love Castle. And her reservations melted away.
Castle pressed his forehead to hers but cupped her face to keep her close; he didn't want to lose this connection, but he also didn't want her to feel rushed.
"We don't have to," he assured her.
But she shook her head. "I want to."
Still, he hesitated. She knew that was her fault: she had let her emotions lead her actions too much over these past few days. These past few weeks, actually. And now he was being overly cautious, taking on the role that she would usually fill. Because that was how they worked: serious and unserious, head in the clouds and feet firmly on the ground, a hopeless romantic and a logical thinker. They levelled each other other, brought one another to this ideal middle ground that just seemed to work so perfectly for them.
But this? This role reversal they had slipped into, it wasn't them It wasn't right.
"I'm okay, Castle." She assured him with a kiss. "We're okay."
And she was determined for her words to become truth.
She kissed him again, with more urgency than before, and he gave into his desires.
His arms wrapped around her waist and he pulled her closer, relished in the feel of her body pressed flush against his.
"I want you," he panted as he moved his attention to peppering kisses along her jawline and down her neck. His hands wandered down her body to her thighs, then glided back up the bared skin and underneath her sleep shirt. "Only you."
"Show me," she whispered. They broke apart, looked into one another's eyes for just a few short seconds before she smiled and repeated her request. "Show me how much you want me."
He did exactly that. He poured all the love he had for her into a long, slow, reverent kiss as he lay her back on her bed. He touched her with gentle hands, like she were a priceless artifact to be handled with the utmost care. Kissed her in a way that soothed the hurt and confusion they had both felt in this tumultuous transition into life outside of their little love bubble. Their love-making was a promise that tomorrow was a new day - undoubtedly with new challenges to face - but no matter what may have come their way, they could figure this out together... they could find their way.
And, in a way that only they could, they righted all their wrongs.
#my drabbles#kate beckett#richard castle#caskett#castle#kate beckett x richard castle#castle fanfiction#castle fanfic
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Okay, apparently shutting the fuck up was never an option but the way no one likes to look at the marina situation and go "wow what the fuck is wrong with portia"? Crazy.
Like she immediately didn't like her, not because of anything she'd done, but because she took attention from her daughters no matter how bright she dressed them.
It didn’t matter that the main reason is that, honestly all 3 of her daughters are painfully awkward, and in ones case literally 17. It didn’t matter that Marina was only there at her fathers instance, or that theoretically through having someone thats clearly popular in her home she could have used it as a jump off mark to match her daughters, she was seen as her big hurdle to marrying them off. Marinas immediately othered, to the point that when shes being dressed the maids helping put on her shoes is enough to piss Portia off. She immediately puts Marina in the same ring as her daughters, fight for my attention and maybe maybe it'll be positive. But Marina doesn't do that because she doesn't want to even be there.
And then they find out she's pregnant and shes othered even more. She immediately tries to send her back, and when she's not allowed to do that shes locked away and the other girls aren't even allowed to talk to her. She literally tries to freeze her out, like Marina has any say in being there in the first place, before lying to her about her being abandoned by George.
She makes no attempt to find out if George has family, she doesn't care enough to try even though that would have been a way to get rid of her "problem". She tries to push Marina onto a man old enough to be her grandfather and slaps her across the fucking face when she tries to stand up for herself.
Theres no concern for her safety, for the babys safety, just getting her out of her house as fast as fucking possible, and I'm meant to be surprised that when Colin saves Marina from her elderly suitor she turns her attention to him?
Like the nicest guy, who everyone likes, who's attractive, who isn't multiple decades older than her and most importantly not going to literally assault her? Yeah not a big shocker. Should she have lied to him? No, but she wouldn't have had to or felt the need to if she wasn't in the most hostile fucking house. Even Penelope, who she likes, why does everyone forget that she fucking likes Penelope and viewed her as a friend, becomes aggressive towards her. Shes cornered, shes scared, and all of this could have been avoided if Portia was a slightly better person and said "hey soilder boys not written back, you're gonna have this kid, does he have any family?" instead of setting this entire mess in motion.
#rainy talks#firm believer that Portia is a shit person who set this whole mess in motion#for all the “marinas still a bad person!! look at how she lashed out at pen! at how easily she manipulated colin” girlies#shut up maybe?? pen lashedout first and longer#and i genuinely believe if Penelope had said she had feelings for colin or marina had noticed earlier she wouldn't have pursued him#because she saw pen as a /friend/ but pen doesn't tell her and she doesn't find out until its too late to turn back#and i already said how lying to colin wasn't great but if you saw things in shades of grey you'd understand why shes doing it#its not a black and white situation#“marina shows no remorse though! she doesn't feel guilty ”#man she almost died trying to abort her kids just t still have them she has other stuff going on#how about we talk about her seeing this sad guy and going “dude you've gotta move on so many people love you”#and then hinting at pens feelings for him#clearly trying to still be a friend to pen by nudging him towards her even after everything#apparently I'm in my hating portia Featherington era between this and my rant in the tags of the last one#bridgerton#marina thompson#portia featherington
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,,, little lemmings in line...
#adamandi#needed this. idk. shameless fluff. i. sjdhdjfhfhfhfhf viewing this doodle just makes me happy ok#something silly. i feel like lately i've been a lot more earnest on this blog and it's nice!!#the imagery that the lyrics evoke.... goes so hard actually. consider this maybe an outtake of the last 'where can i run' thingy#yes i get the whole lemmings off a cliff thing but also i think taking it at face value would be cute therefore this#since basically they refer to the rest of the students as lemmings.. he's human in this one i guess.#quincent thoughts. many many. but also i have been maybe avoiding engaging with quincy on a more intense level? until i am in a better#mental state to do so. because the whole academic perfection and self harm is a Thing i would like to engage with Properly without spirals#yay on me for being healthy about media! not normal and never normal. but healthy is good i guess#... hm. family is being iffy lately because you're supposed to have good acads And not stressed but i refuse to feel guilty anymore.#after this period i'll go bonkers over him and in the meantime unfortunately they won't feature as much in the content.. :<#anyways. fun fact about lemmings is that it's not necessarily a derogatory blindly leaping to deaths thing when it comes to the actual ones#like that's the phrasing and connotation right. but apparently it's more of they leap off cliff into water below or smth to migrate and onl#the rare few die (skill issue??um) and apparently the whole association was propagated by some documentary wildlife drama thing that kind o#.... hastened the chasing of the poor things off the cliff and filmed it. a bit messed up. and like i guess what a nice metaphor for the#academic context here? or a different one at least. where only a few die so they keep doing it but also for the Average lemming following#following the system is not inherently bad.. maybe i'm projecting.#anyways peep the tiny character shorthands now.. ambrose has the jacket/ bea has the hat and gloves with strings: portia has the bow on hea#quincy has the bowtie and glasses /(beatrix also has glasses. i forgot about those until i was drawing quincy's.)#'avvy why are they standing up' you ask? because four legs looked weird with ambrose's jacket. 'why did you give lemmings glasses?' ummmmm#i guess recognisability? don't look too much into it#outtakes of this include vincent standing in a circle of lemmings. it's badly drawn and frankly hilarious because they're all tiny and#below the knee.#'avvy these don't look like realistic lemmings' you are very right. i am sorry. i looked for a crowd of lemmings on google images and all i#found were political cartoons... i Can draw animals technically i swear#anyways! emotional support adamandi doodle out. going to start work now!#oh i forgot to tag the characters... hm... i guess i'll leave out the lemmings..#?#vincent aurelius lin#.
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im still not over the sleep thing one sec i gotta rant about this shit
#i think the problem now is that historically my sleep habits have been Really Messed Up by what can loosely be called insomnia my whole life#its always kinda just been a given that if im in bed and i cant sleep there is absolutely nothing that can be done to help#and thats not for lack of trying i have tried every meditation and suggested solution possible. it does not happen.#if i cant fall asleep and try to force myself w/o distractions i will be awake staring at the ceiling for hours. usually till the morning#thats not an exaggeration it happened often before i gave up on it. so i figured out coping methods!#namely 1) making sure my body is taken care of as well as possible to make sure its not caused by pain or hunger or anxiety#and 2) not trying to force it and accepting itll happen when it happens. and then reading a book or watching a show on a dim screen#until i physically cant keep my eyes open and then i can fall asleep. if i try any earlier than that no dice. my brain wakes itself up again#these worked for years! but now thanks to adhd meds that actually make my brain quiet. uh. these same coping methods are. not working#im physically tired and start my usual routine and wait to pass out while reading but i just. dont. ever.#like. the physically tired feeling has never made a difference in my body cooperating with sleep. but now apparently it will????#and ive been ignoring it??? bc im used to it not working? i tried just. closing my eyes and trying to lay still yesterday and it WORKED#after like. 10 minutes or so. it was fucking crazy. i thought media and pop culture was lying about people doing that.#anyways. apparently i can fall asleep like a human and not some kind of weird chronically exhausted cryptid now.#(because of new adhd meds to be clear) but i havent been because i didnt even think to TRY it. since. yknow. cryptid status.#shits weird.
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it's called cowpunk
BUT THERE'S NO FUCKIN'. PLAYLISTS ON YT THAT ARE SONG COMPILATIONS
IT'S ALL PLAYLISTS PUT TOGETHER USING THE FUCKIN' PLAYLIST FUNCTION AND MY BRAIN WON'T LET ME TRY THOSE OUT FOR SOME ARBITRARY REASON
please for the love of god i want to listen to punk country music. i've secretly always loved the way that country music sounds but the lyrics are just so terrible so often that i've stayed away from it for the sake of my sanity
but punk as a genre has never failed me so COWPUNK, which is the punk subgenre in country music, should be fucking amazing. but there's like 5 playlists and brain is too scaredys to look at them. screaming crying throwing up taking my brain out and picking it apart with tweezers until i can figure out why those aren't good enough so i can problem solve
#byrd chirps#cowpunk#music recs please#i think the whole thing is just too new#and the safest-feeling way for me to explore new genres is with those playlists that are a single video all put together#with the songs listed by timestamp#and ideally there'd be lyrics somewhere but that's just a bonus#and apparently none of those exist on youtube#WHY GOD WHY do i have to enjoy obscure genres#i don't WANT them to be obscure#sure if they're popular they might get commercialized#(that's probably why punk doesn't do very well is because it often commercializes poorly no matter the quality)#but then at least there'd be PLAYLISTS#and no im not gonna make a playlist are you kidding me?#i can't fuckin work a video editor! and i don't have the spoons for a yt channel yet that shit is terrifying#because i stg the moment any subscribers find out i care about fat activism it'd be off with my head!#idk maybe we could incorporate some country music into what we're doing? we could be folk cowpunk?#you know with AKA#but i'd have to discuss that with the others and i don't want to keep messing with the band and like#country is not a loved genre these days particularly for leftists#because of the whole tendency towards christonationalist lyrics yknow?#so i make no promises and hold no hopes for that#gotdamn that's a good line i gotta use that more often#anyways.
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ok i'm fucking done rationing my medication lmao. i'm going back to taking it as prescribed and on monday i'm calling every single pharmacy in the state of new york until i find one with my prescription in stock. like i'll rent a car and drive upstate, i fucking can't do this anymore
#i'd do that today but i don't think my doctor is available today#since i have to get a whole new prescription instead of just getting it transferred to a new pharmacy!!!!!!!#i kind of feel ridiculous bc i'm literally on the lowest dose they give adults but it literally makes such a huge difference#i am a literal zombie off my meds and i've been trying so hard and i'm still just such a mess#i spent the last two days just like. fucking crying all day. like things are just so hard!!!! STUPID things are hard!!!#it's so dumb and the shortage is apparently just getting worse and i'm over it lmao#i'm also gonna talk to my doctor about switching meds. we have an appt at the end of the month#m.txt
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i deserve multiple awards for being able to sit through midge's storyline in this season actually!
#not to be dramatic!! but!! my god . . .#her writing regarding her feelings towards shy up until his wedding was. STUNNINGLY inconsistent idk#like everything from her revenge monologue to her anger and bitterness towards him except for that?? one singular scene#where she cries upon finding out about his wedding?? and idk maybe the purpose of that scene was probably to illustrate that despite#her resentment she still feels remorse for him but the way it was executed in the context of the rest of the plotline just felt#really out of the blue#and the way she acted at the wedding . . .#i will admit her apology towards him in the bathroom went a lot better than i thought it would? like it felt more resolved than i expected#but i honestly still struggle with how to perceive her apparent anger at him beforehand#i feel like it rests on how midge's “i was angry you left us on the tarmac because i wanted to apologise to you on the plane”#is meant to be intended?? if it was supposed to be seen as some kind of 'plot twist' like gasp she was angry bc she didn't actually get to#express her regret and explain herself towards him!! in that perspective the execution still felt. kinda poor#if it was supposed to actually be expected (although that's. probably unlikely) the execution also felt. quite poor 😭😭#god i don't know but i did still get the feeling that the gravity of the situation should've been reflected on more instead of focusing#on how bitter midge felt towards him the whole time#like. she TRULY fucked him over lmao i really have no other way of saying it she really messed him up#a very soft part of me wants to see it positively resolved in some way at least in the next season#but also at this point i have lost QUITE a bit of faith in the writing 💔💔#anyhow. idk. rest of the season was fine ig?? still processing but hey i discovered 'someone to watch over me'#ella fitzgerald's cover is very lovely :'')#the marvelous mrs maisel#na.txt
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some of the za inconsistencies just make me laugh. like when they made a big production about how no one is supposed to ride on a dragon but now they’re basically taxis and how it was this huge deal to use the binding needle that you had to be specially trained for and now it’s just being used left and right 😭 what was the point
#i’m not picky about series like this i’m not genuinely criticizing i’m just here for a good time#actually i’m not really even having a good time but semantics#like i’m sorry i’m just sooo tired of this series my ideas for how it should have gone are way better#this whole war arc is just so so basic and tired and i truly only like it when these characters are happy 😭#like it sounds messed up but that’s when they entertain me and i don’t care enough about them to feel upset about their angst it’s just bori#boring to me#anyway i’m sticking it out for the bluelance chapters but apparently they don’t really have any#also i was looking ahead and it seems like we get a delicious twin fight right before the end#also anyone who genuinely didn’t think they were bringing back darius is a fool 😭#mine#juli reads redacted#anyway these things just seem silly to me bc they could have just made them normalized there was no need to cause a fuss
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suffering.
#uughhhhgggggg so. my good friend who i am also into.#is planning to come viist#visit* this weekend#and is staying with another friend#but apparently something came up with this friend so he might not be able to make it#and i like. want to offer that he could stay here since we have a whole extra room for this sort of thing#but i feel like i wouldnt be able to handle it aaaa and also context#which is that he is seeing someone and he potentially has unresolved feelings for me too. at least last we spoke abt it#which was back in june#so its probably all just not appropriate and he would probably refuse it anyways#its a big mess if im honest#and if he does still have feelings for me then I'd feel not great about enabling that by letting him stay over if that makes sense#so i guess I'll just hold off on offering u_u and be so so brave about it#and so mature.#(and I'd have to ask my sibling anyways but i really shouldn't even indulge)
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Hi again everyone. I have returned, maybe just momentarily, to let you know where I’ve been.
I took a lot of time off for myself to have a “redo” of my life. How this went was that, from Aug 20, I finally felt like I was free, moreso than I had in my life, and that was the best starting point for me to choose that year as 1993, my birth year. I have, through all of this time including now, realize that I have ultimately been battling a giant war against life for the sake of keeping pure and keeping corrosion out. And I mean NIGHTMARISH LEVELS OF CORROSION. It’s so hard for me to put those exact experiences into a perfect pure-feeling term, but basically it’s been like that for a shockingly long time...and one of the things that was so corroded was my own past and childhood. I desired to have a “reset” wherein I got to control life and my timespan for a while, and devote it entirely to the keepsakes I have from those times. I was beginning again, starting over with my life just how I wanted, and I let myself be a little baby for a while, then transition each day to adolescence, teenhood and then adulthood. It was all finally at my own pace. Though even then, the rare times I had to step outside meant that it had to be the current year again for a while, and I still ran across what I now know to be corrosion confrontations, which were sometimes so bad, I had to switch a year, and let it pass until the next day where I would redo it as well. I’m just glad that this plan worked out and it all fit into september before the last few days of the month.
There was also two giantly damaging events that occurred on the 26th...a certain governmental event I couldn’t afford to miss and was getting so stressed about (because I haven’t been feeling more than I can handle of that), and this resulted in me believing I needed to protect my most precious keepsakes, among which, my art and my videogame collection. This was from MY ENTIRE LIFESPAN, including my reset! And all I did was park somewhere where I thought it was going to be safe and untouched. But it so happened to be a kindergarten with apparently a private parking rule that I didn’t know about (and sadly, that part of the corrosive error is on me because I didn’t think to take some time to ask if it was okay, I was just too worried about being on time (additionally, I am aggravated that if I were not left in such a precarious situation, I would not have been so stressed out and thus careless about where I parked!)), and by the time I had a free moment to think about it, I checked on what was going on with my chosen parking space...and I got the shocking news that this asian prick decided, also at the fault of the police ordering him to, to THROW OUT MY THINGS WITHOUT ONCE WAITING FOR ME TO BE PRESENT TO EXPLAIN MYSELF. I had to run out of breath to that place, only to be confronted by the guy who did the deed AND look at the abject horror and misery that my two makings; my very history of being alive, my two greatest and purest of life’s passions...were thrown into a giant garbage bin without an iota of care. Not even an understanding that these items were covered in MY NAME, showing it defacto belonged to me, and nobody had the right to make the decisions they did. And what was all the worse was that I had every right to be livid at the guy and chew him out for what corrosive display he wrought on my HISTORY, MY PROOF OF BEING ALIVE ON THIS HELL ROCK, but he seriously thought he had any right to bombard me with angry accusatory words and ideas, as if he was openly victim blaming me for something I could barely pay attention to over the sound of my own crippling depression...how could I not continuously explode when I had to cry while rifling through the garbage and make sure that I rescued all of my poor keepsakes that I NEVER ONCE WANTED OR WAS PREPARED TO SEE AMONGST GARBAGE WHERE NONE OF IT BELONGS, all the while having my suicidal levels of stress upset and discomfort pressured even more by this unfeeling demon ch*** who never had a shred of shame for what he did saying the most useless, unhelpful and distressing things, likely on purpose, which naturally made me want to swipe at him with a cardboard box lid JUST TO GET HIM TO SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME IN PEACE. But that is when he said the worst thing; you stop or I call the police. I was screaming myself hoarse, wailing in such impossible misery, all because he refused to stop causing coarse corrosive stress towards me, and he was actually de-existing me. What de-existing me means, is that he was actively trying to delegitimize EVERYTHING that was happening to me right there. His profound offenses horrified me as these would never stop coming from him. I feel that this is the type of homonid,,,this inhuman thing, this “flesh homunculus”...is the very thing that I will have to kill one day in order for such corrosions in life to permanently stop, as I want. I got all of my posessions back, but it can’t feel like a true victory until I see this creature gone, and all like it. Please don’t worry about what this means. It just basically means I’ve figured out how to get rid of the things weighing down on my mind for good.
Sadly, just another one of these things bled it’s way into ruining another event that was supposed to remain pure. Some user who I don’t know at all made a heinous reply about me being “such a manchild” over a post subject that I had done nothing more than say my piece on, state that I would not accept anyone trying to @ me over having what just seemed to be different from the crowd opinion, and leave it at that. I learned that on some monday, around the time I left to give myself that long-needed break, I was entirely treated like trash, only fueling yet more of what I have lately been feeling...rather, I should say I’ve been collapsing under the weight of. I already feel bad enough that there are sociopaths like this on the world who troll and are so good at trolling that I do feel very defaced and wounded by. What hurts me even worse than that though, is the timing in which this happened. The one precise moment where all that has happened is processed, or as well as it can, that nothing else is going on, and I thought I had a free chance to muster up the courage and retry from where I left off. I gave this place just one more chance, or at least see how all of my friends are doing, only to see there is proof that people on tumblr, or perhaps tumblr itself, is no longer the place I thought I could have to be safe and I am surrounded by corroded sorts who don’t want me here, as a poor damaged person on the side of purity. I was about to say that I’m a pure person, but that would not be so true. I just want to be good and clear in my soul, and the corrosions of all life, from sirens and sickening-acting people in real life, the fact that real life has so much badness going on that it’s all become besmirched, to here online where corrosion and policing seem to have concaved everything to the point where nowhere is good and pure enough to promise the level of safety and comfort that I need most. Even Gaia online, another legacy site that I frequented from my life’s history as well, suddenly proved on the 25th that it apparently hated me for having a pure connection with it and for some reason hates me for not wanting to support it’s bad practises with money. Apparently they really are the scum who did not pay or support their artists the way they should, and it shows now in the latest “game” they have going on now.
So it’s a real damn shame, but I have to maybe...just never come back here. Ever again. Not seriously anyway. I wanted to do so much more here though. I wanted to be able to be like all of you, my friends, and you amazing artists in the choo choo groop, or the ttte/rws fandom for those unfamiliar. And be like VoiceBoss/Coco, and all of the other cool batman fandom artists too. Just happily posting my art, getting to know everyone, never having anything bad happen that would lead to a confrontation. But someone who bypassed the way I was trying so hard to curate my experiences here made me face the fact that I need a place where not just anyone is able to throw me out of a good thing, by any means. So I must look elsewhere, as I said, for a truly safe, quiet bubble to call my own and to get every ounce of relief and healing relaxation that has been so unreasonably denied of me. This sucks royal.
I believe the last things I might want to take care of is reblogging everything I have in my likes, catching up with my pals, letting y’all know about stuff, having one last farewell party to this blog, and...if I can manage it, I may only post my art/links to where I will be posting art from now on. Cause the last thing I want to do is promise good things I’d share, and then never make do. I’m not perpetuating that cycle of abuse after being a victim of it, no fucking way gang
https://www.pixiv.net/en/users/86557536
#god the corrosion is what never ends#that's apparently what I was talking about then#but I can finally categorize this kind of crumbling stress...which is why I can finally colllect myself again#and now I'm leaving behind what I know is part of that whole mess#I've luckily been getting way better at recognizing red flags knowing what's wrong and cutting them out from my life#I'm upset that I am losing what feels like a pure dream here#that was just...being part of the cool kids and being able to know what it's like to be just like everyone else for once#but I am also glad to get rid of a source of bad trouble#let's face it I was making a lot of posts that just illustrated how upset and unfulfilled I was and not even here was being helpful#tumblr is indeed a hellsite but not the fun kind#I have yet to even see a fun kind for that matter#But...I still want to have a way to keep in touch with all of you#because Nick does not abandon their friends#just go to the above links and you can see where I'll be#I hate literally everyone else with a fury uncategorized by civilization but I love you all just as strongly#because you're part of the few whom are actually paying attention to me and being at all caring about me#I recognize that and I want to do my best to show that it's not a mistake to invest in me#it's just been absurdly hard to find the right platform for me :/#please stay tuned for now! we're gonna have a post dump in a sec
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insane that i’m the biggest disappointment of a child for smoking weed but the child that’s emotionally abusive is fine
#i??? do not understand my parents#like ok yes it is bad that my room smells of weed and is messy#but!#feels real fucking weird that my mum gets more upset with me about that than my sister being the literal devil incarnate#and not in a fun way#like dinner last night i literally did not say a single word bc me. just speaking. apparently triggers izzy and i think i literally just#acknowledged a joke being made and she started her whole. you need to leave. get out. you’re the problem. everyone hates you. shtick#and my mums response is can you just be nice to each other#???????????#GIRL I DIDNT DO A FUCKING THING#I KNOW YOU DONT LIKE CONFLICT AND THE CONFLICT APpArENtLy ONLY OCCURS WHEN IM PRESENT#(it doesn’t. she’s even worse to my mum but mum never. fucking does anything about it#which yeah i do get bc defending urself or literally just saying or reacting in anyway than what The Devil wants you to ends up a mess)#but maybe use two fucking braincells and realise i’m not the worst one here??#i’m actually gonna go insane#also it’s like. lowkey so funny that mums disappointed bc she thinks i haven’t been smoking for months#which i have!! u just haven’t fuckin realised it bestie!! so maybe the reason i am being depressed and useless rn is related to uhh the#fucking demon that’s living in the house again???#not because weed is so evil and brain rotting??#also like i do completely get how silly of me it is to blame everything on my sister when i am aware that my mum hates me smoking weed and#i shouldn’t get a free pass just because my sister is worse than me#but also.#i would like a free pass:(#basically! i should move out lol#but unfortuately i have spent all of my savings#can’t wait to spend 12 hours in the car with all of them tomorrow!!#ah you know when u look back at the times you were gonna kill urself and wish you just fucking did#vent post
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YOU SLEEPING ON A COUCH AFTER AN ARGUMENT 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧
featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji fushiguro x reader
note. i hv so many ideas right now apart from what i'm actually supposed to be focusing on, so...pls excuse me.
GOJO SATORU. arguments with gojo are a pain in the ass, he's petty and everything will be a mess. he's so stubborn that it actually baffles you sometimes — and he calls you rock head?
being a sorcerer is never an easy job. gojo wakes up every day, not knowing whether he'd die in a mission or get to live another day. so when you brought up your concerns about it to him, the male didn't take it lightly. things have been tight for him, and you're walking on eggshells for the past few days.
the slightest thing angered him, like how his sleeve got stuck on the door handle, or the way he curses out loudly when he stubs his toe on the coffee table. it puts him in a shitty mood, so when that happens, and you try to talk to him about his job.
gojo gets very pissy about it.
frankly, you understood where his anger comes from. and it was part of your fault to bother him the moment he came back from work exhausted, it was bound to happen so you weren't really blaming him at all from the projecting of his anger to you the night before — he didn't say hurtful things, gojo knew better than that. all he did was tell you to leave him alone and get out of his sight for the night.
and you did. sleeping alone on the couch, all sprawled out, an arm dangling on the edge; while a string of drool dribbled down the corner of your lips.
you seemed to not mind having to sleep on the couch (under your own want). but your boyfriend did, the moment he knew your bed time strikes — he came out of the room and eyed your sleeping form. guilt washing over him when all you did was care about his being and how dangerous the jujutsu world is.
gojo approaches you and gently carried you in his arms, an arm right under your bottom and his other arm around your waist. hoisting you up like a baby as your cheek leaned onto his shoulder, letting the drool blotch his shirt. he doesn't care at all.
the male tucks you in the bed, pulling the covers over you before slipping next to you, chest pressed to your back and an arm resting on your hip. gojo will never let you sleep a whole night on the couch, he will bring you to sleep with him and apologize the very next day for being such an ass.
he also, tried to make it up to you by cooking a classic english breakfast. which ended up in chaos — and you both decided to order take out instead.
GETO SUGURU. geto is usually calm and collected; he doesn't really get angry at anything. even if he does, he mostly keeps it to himself unless it really bothers him. but since humans have certain capacities to their own emotion — geto is not spared from being angry, no matter how calm he is.
after the death of amanai, you could feel him change. your geto. it was traumatizing for him, and you understood. always being there for him, never leaving him alone. the dark circles under his eyes were apparent, and it looked like he hasn't had a good night sleep for what seemed like . . . weeks, or months, if that's even possible.
geto appreciated your company, really. but sometimes, he also wanted to be left alone to dwell on his feelings. he didn't want to end up saying hurtful things to you because he was so angry at himself. but he did, and god was it horrible.
he was already feeling like shit before the argument— which if you see, wasn't really an argument at all. it was one-sided, geto was telling you off and you didn't say anything back. because you knew he didn't mean it. he almost desperately begged for you to leave him alone because your presence was "annoying" him and he couldn't stand it.
although geto said it in a heap of moment. he didn't mean it, and before he could say anything else, you tell him that you were going to be sleeping on the couch, so if he needed anything he was free to come to you.
geto didn't stop you. he was busy hating on himself for telling you that — and believe me when i say that he, right there, almost cried out of frustration.
he tossed and turned on his bed. where you were usually on too, beside him, holding his hand whilst he sleep. your hushed voice lulling him into a peaceful slumber; but you weren't there today, all because he told you to leave him alone. geto sat up, his eyelids heavy, but no matter how long he shut is, they always open back up.
with slow and heavy steps, he approaches you on the couch. and geto had always knew that you were a light sleeper, so his footsteps awoken you. seeing your eyes flutter open, geto slid on the couch, laying himself on top of you — head on your chest, arms clutching onto your shirt like he's desperate for your presence, and his legs intertwining with yours.
getos' hushed apologies were heard as he leaned into your warmth, and you told him that you were never angry. brushing his hair, massaging his scalp using your fingertips before lulling him to sleep, and geto did. almost immediately. and so did you.
he could never sleep without you. whether it being on the bed, the couch, or anywhere else — as long has you were with him, he will find the ability to drift off.
TOJI FUSHIGURO. is an ass. let's face it — he wouldn't give a fuck if you decided to sleep on the couch after an argument, at least for the first couple of hours. toji is a blunt man, and he's a sole believer that nobody could bear sleeping on the couch when there's a bed in the house.
but you were there to prove him wrong.
after an argument going south, he finds you grabbing your pillow and then seeking shelter on the couch. and he clicked his tongue in annoyance, knowing you'd come crawling back on the mattress after a few hours — because who'd choose the couch over the bed?
you. apparently.
he slept without a single care, thinking of words to say when you finally decided to come back on the bed. but when he woke up at three am, his arm searching to find your body, but realizing all he was catching was air — he finally realized that you weren't coming back onto the bed.
and it annoyed him. he was angry that you weren't there. and at three am? he was already wide awake, walking out of the room angrily. but his gaze softened when he saw you asleep, the constant flashing light from the television panning on your body; toji walks over, snatches the remote and turns the device off.
letting out a soft sigh, toji squats down, flicking your forehead. and the action was enough to make you grimace lightly in your sleep — although not enough to wake you up completely. the male chuckled and prepped an arm under the hollow under your knees, and an arm across your shoulder.
with ease he brought you into your shared room and he laid you down on the bed, covering your body with the blanket before he slips into his own portion of the bed. scooting closer to you as you instinctively nuzzled into his chest, seeking for comfort.
toji wouldn't admit that he was the one who brought you into the bed and would end up saying how you came crawling back at three am. you always find out the truth though, and toji tells you to forget about whatever he did because he won't be doing it again (he will).
© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen fluff#fluff#jjk#jjk fluff#gojo satoru#gojo fluff#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo#jjk gojo#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu kaisen gojo#jjk satoru#geto suguru#geto#geto suguru x reader#geto x reader#jjk geto#geto fluff#jjk suguru#getou suguru x reader#jujutsu kaisen suguru#toji#toji fushiguro#fushiguro toji#toji x reader#toji fluff#jjk toji
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how to recover after having a complete crying breakdown in front of ur bf TWICE in one night
#to be fair he likes to kinda poke and prod at me to get honest reactions#i have a habit of putting up walls and shutting down completely when presented with anything upsetting#and he doesn’t rlly let me do that#so the first breakdown was COMPLETELY his fault#we were just talking about god and religion and the meaning of life and he was arguing with my mildly hedonistic standpoint#but it’s one i’ve developed after being suicidal for years yk#anyways that cry fest was fine cool whatever#and then we go INSIDE#and i wanna hook up bc like. he’s my bf#so we turn off the lights and start fooling around#HUGE MISTAKE!!! apparently!#guess what activated a trigger i didn’t even know i had#something about not being able to see him and like part of my paranoid lizard brain not knowing that it was G and i know him and im safe#so we have to like stop and i have to turn on a light and now im crying and he feels like he did something wrong#and it’s a whole ass mess#and then we went to sleep! and now it’s the morning! and my face is all swollen and puffy!#and he wants to go get breakfast but i kind of just want to bury my head in the sand and go home#he also JUST TOLD ME LAST NIGHT that he’s still adjusting to being in civilization and i can be a lot sometimes#so now i feel like i was Too Much#and im embarrassed#oh also i lost my underwear somewhere in his room
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random thought, but is it possible that the witness' goal isnt as much as erasing life/death as it is erasing consciousness
#idk weve been talking a lot about consciousness in game lately#i have no theory just this thought lol#first i think it doesnt make sense bc witness is all about messing with the traveler - which is not related to consciousness at all - and#using darkness - which is 100% related to consciousness#but#that thing ahsa said ?? last week ?? about relief#two sides meeting each other and feeling relief#wait let me check destiny lore vault#actually i misremembered#ahsa says something about two halves of a whole finally reunited#also “a glimpse beyond... to the beginning”#which makes me think the veil is to the darkness as the traveler is to the light#and they both need to be reunited to return things to the way they were Before#(in the garden?)#maybe before isnt just before the universe began but before consciousness was a thing#idk man the witness gives me endsinger vibes#i heard the drifter talk about the stuff outside sol and cold it was#and it made me think of the endsinger's goal. 'a frozen waste. forever silent'#aka the heat death of the universe#you can take me out of ffxiv but you cant take ffxiv out of me apparently#so the frozen waste forever silent could be the witness' goal#final shape yadda yadda#who knows!!! not me#destiny 2#ren.txt#destiny
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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.
© 2023 DOOBEA. do not copy any of my writing and translate/repost.
#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
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