#so I hope she does not recognize me ^______^
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OLD GRUDGES (part 3)
A/N: i know it took me way longer than it should have, but at last im here with the next part and that's what matters, right? thank you for the support on the prev parts, hope you'll enjoy this just as much!
WORD COUNT: 4.3k
WARNING: sexual content
SUMMARY: Harry and Y/N go way back. Working together was like a dream when 1D was still going strong. Now, years later, when they end up working together again, things are very different. Mostly because Y/N seems to be hating Harry passionately. But he has not idea why.
MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST
Meetings never really excited Harry, but lately, they have been his favorite along with studio sessions. Because these were the times he always got to see Y/N.
Today he is going in with her favorite cookies in his bag that he picked up on his way, taking a detour just to drop by that one place she loves the most. It’s been a recurring thing for Harry, picking up a cup of coffee for her, buying her favorite snacks for their sessions or surprising her with lunch from that taco place she adores so much. He’s been doing practically anything to get a smile on her face because he feels like that’s the only thing he is destined to do.
He’s been ignoring the fact that her time working on the project ends in two weeks, according to the contract. The only chance to stretch it longer if the required songs are not finished, but they are all practically done at this point. Harry tries his best not to think of what it will be like when he doesn’t get to see her as often as he does now.
The meeting was scheduled only yesterday, so Harry has no idea what it is about, but it doesn’t really matter, they are supposed to record afterwards, so he only cares about spending more time with Y/N.
However, the smile fades when he walks into the room and doesn’t see her. It’s odd, she is usually there before him, but now it’s just a couple of the studio engineers, Niall, Liam and Blake, the kind of weird manager from Modest who’s been working with them since they started recording for Midnight Memories. Harry has been getting these eerie vibes from him, but he just can’t put his finger on it, so he’s been sucking it up and ignoring it. He gave no reason not to be trusted so far.
“Hey, what’s up?” Harry greets everyone walking into the room.
“Ah, Harry! You’re here!” Blake smiles and they shake hands before Harry settles in a chair. “I was just telling the boys what this meeting is about. Good news, you are set for another album after Midnight Memories is released!”
It’s no surprise, to be honest. One album after the other, the pace has been just like that for a while.
“Great,” he nods. “Do we know who we’re gonna work with?”
Blake then hands him a paper with a list of names and some other details. Harry runs over the names, looking for a particular one, but it’s not there.
“What about Y/N?” he asks.
“Ah, I wanted to tell you guys. She got another project kind of last minute, so she is done with the album for now and won’t be able to join for the next one, it seems like,” Blake explains casually and it doesn’t stand out to anyone else either, but it hits Harry in the chest pretty hard.
She is done with the album? Why didn’t she say anything? They talked on the phone just two days ago, why didn’t she even mention it?
And why isn’t she gonna work on the next album? Harry doubts she is booked that far ahead, she is just getting recognized in the industry and she told him herself she is living from one project to the other, works on the next album won’t start at least until they start touring Midnight Memories.
It’s not adding up, but on the other hand… Harry has no right to question her. Even despite how close he’s been getting to her, they are still just… coworkers. Friends.
But nothing more.
“Alright, now that we are talking about the next album, I have a little sneak peek of a song that could be a big hit!” Blake seems enthusiastic as he opens his laptop and then soon a demo starts playing, but Harry can’t really focus, he is too stuck on the fact that he has no more time left with Y/N. He even pulls out his phone, ready to text her and ask her how all of this happened, but then talks himself down. When he finally starts to listen to the song, it sounds familiar at first, but there are no lyrics and Harry often finds random songs familiar lately, because he just hears so many new melodies on a daily basis, they tend to blend together.
“You like it?” Blake asks him and Harry just nods.
“Yeah. What is it called?”
Blake smiles confidently as he shuts the laptop down.
“Night Changes.”
The weather is finally good enough for grilling and the rowland household would take an opportunity anytime for that. Filling up their backyard with the people they love the most and feeding them burgers, hotdogs or basically anything Mitch is able to throw onto the grill. They usually have a gathering like this every month if their schedule and the weather allows.
Now it’s finally the first official grill party of the year.
Harry is sat outside by one of the tables, his plate is empty by now, but he knows he’ll get another round at one point. Cards are scattered on the tabletop, along with glasses of lemonade and beer, the kids are playing in the back somewhere by the treehouse, everything feels and looks idyllic.
For the past about two hours Harry couldn’t stop looking for Y/N. Stealing glances when she was talking to Sarah or playing with the kids, trying not to ogle her too obviously when she was laughing at something at the other table. He wanted to walk up to her a thousand times already, but he is trying to act cool and figure out how to act when there are other people around.
It’s an unknown territory for sure.
When Harry sees her walking towards the house he just can’t stay put. Excusing himself from the group he tries his best not to look suspicious as he follows her inside. Once the sliding door is closed behind him he quickens his steps down the hallway towards the bathroom, guessing she went there, but as he is approaching the door he notices it’s closed.
Should he try his luck and open it? Or maybe knock? Or…
Suddenly, the lock rattles and the door moves the tiniest bit, light coming through the gap. His heart skips a beat as he leaps forward and pushes the door open more so he can step inside.
And there she is, standing by the sink, checking herself out in the mirror when Harry walks in and closes the door behind him. Then slowly, she turns her gaze to him, for the first time today and for a moment Harry thinks she might tell him to fuck off and get out, but when he sees her lips part, he knows what she wants.
Him.
They collide fast, their usual hunger for each other taking over in a heartbeat. Demanding kisses, rough touches, they both know they should be in a hurry, Harry can’t even remember if he locked the door, it would be rather awkward if someone walked in on them.
Especially because no one knows about them, or whatever is going on between them.
It’s been over a week since the dinner party that ended up with the most confusing but also mind-blowingly amazing sex they have ever had. When it was over Harry simply left and kept to what she said, that they would not talk about it and that’s exactly what happened. They never talked about it, but it happened again.
Twice since then.
And now they are going at it again.
“Fuck,” Harry growls into her mouth when she reaches into his pants with quick but confident moves, because it’s not the first time she is doing it and he can only hope it’s not the last either.
“Quickly,” she pants and he just nods, bunching up her dress and tugging her underwear down. It’s no surprise he is already hard, following her inside was like a foreplay to him, the secrecy, the chance that she might tell him to fuck off, his pulse has been rising before he stepped into the bathroom.
They moan together when he thrusts into her, but then he gets back to kissing her to keep their voice down as he starts moving. Usually, they don’t talk when they are having sex, but Harry feels like changing that up, trying out how she reacts to something different.
“You knew I would come after you, huh?” he pants against her lips.
“I did,” she breathes out, one arm curled around his neck, her other hand gripping the edge of the sink to keep her balance.
“You thought about me fucking you all day?”
To that, she doesn’t answer and Harry almost regrets opening his mouth, but then she looks at him and nods.
“I did,” she repeats herself and even cracks a smile before pulling him closer to kiss him hard. And just like that, a tightening but warm feeling spreads in his chest.
They don’t need much time, Harry is the first to come and she follows soon right after. Her head falls against his chest , rising and falling with his deep breaths and he tries to fight the urge, but then gives in and bringing up a hand he runs his fingers through her hair. Part of him fears this move might be too intimate for her and that she’ll shake him off of her any moment, but it never happens and Harry enjoys it, probably way more than he should.
They clean themselves up and soon it’s just the sparkle in their eyes that proves what they just did.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asks, fixing her makeup in the mirror.
“Are you asking me out or something?” Harry cheekily asks and she just smacks his chest playfully.
“I have some stuff I’ve been working on that I want to show you.”
Harry’s pulse fastens again. This is just like it was before, when it was just the two of them, sharing the songs they were working on.
“I would love that,” he smiles at her, watching her walk to the door.
“Alright. I’ll text you then.”
Y/N walks out and Harry knows they are back to not talking and for a second he wonders how long he’ll be able to keep going like this.
When he walks out he is still deep in his thoughts, but then when he reaches the kitchen he comes to a halt, seeing Mitch by the kitchen island, sipping on some lemonade, a knowing look on his face.
“Hey man,” Harry clears his throat and joins him instead of walking outside.
“Hey. Everything alright?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Want to share why I just saw Y/N coming from the same direction as you just did?”
“Uh… you know, we just…”
Harry can’t quite find the right words, especially because he doesn’t like and can’t really lie to Mitch, but he also wants to keep the no talking rule. Mitch stares back at him with a blank face for a second, but then his eyes go wide.
“No way.”
“What?” Harry laughs.
“For real?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You and… you and Y/N?”
Harry doesn’t answer, but that’s quite the answer to Mitch.
“Oh my God, how long has this been going on?”
“Keep it down!” He hushes his friend. “It’s… it’s nothing official or anything.”
“But it is something, right? What is it?”
Harry once again just stays silent.
“You two are having sex?” More silence. “Oh my God! Did you just do it in the bathroom?!”
“Shh!” Harry tries to shush him again, but he also can’t hold back his smile, thinking about what just took place in that bathroom.
“Harry, what the hell! When… How did that happen? You know what? I don’t want to know about that,” Mitch changes his mind quickly, making Harry laugh. “But like… what is it?”
“I told you, it’s nothing o–”
“No, I mean… what do you want it to be?”
Harry sighs as he turns so he can look out at the backyard through the sliding door. And there she is, with a glass in her hand as she is talking to Sarah, laughing at something and Harry wishes he knew what it was.
“I just… I like her. A lot.”
“But you two had been hating each other passionately, what happened to that?”
“I think we took the passionately part and turned it into something else,” Harry smirks cheekily, his eyes still glued to her figure outside.
“Oh my God, you are so gone for her,” Mitch breathes out, shaking his head. “You’re falling for her!”
Harry turns back to Mitch and hesitates before speaking up.
“I already fell for her. When we worked together years ago. But then she basically disappeared and when we met again, she acted like I was her mortal enemy,” Harry chuckles. Calling himself the enemy sounds ridiculous, but it’s the most fitting he could say. “And now…” he hums, but doesn’t finish his thought out loud.
“And now you’re falling for her again?”
“I might be,” he nods.
The Sun has set, but the party's still going. Well, it’s not raging, some of the people who came with kids have left and Scout has been put down by Mitch as well, but a handful of guests are still out on the terrace, playing card games and sharing stories.
Y/N sits right across from Harry and he has noticed the change. She is losing her cold act towards him, slowly but surely. They can finally talk and joke around almost like back in the days. Harry however doesn’t want to let himself go deeper than he should, he knows he is on an unstable field with her and he feels like it all could snap any moment, but…
It feels so amazing.
Making her laugh, sharing knowing looks, teasing each other like old friends, Harry missed being like this.
When he notices that she’s probably cold his first thought is to offer his hoodie, but he is quick to stop himself, he’s sure it might be too much at once so he instead just asks around who needs a blanket as he is heading inside anyway so he can easily grab a few.
But then as the night comes to an end, he still decides to try and dance around the unsaid boundaries.
“Hey, I just ordered a car, added your address as well.” Harry tells her when he sees her open the Uber app on her phone.
“Ah, no need, I can just–”
“Already ordered it,” he insists, hoping she’ll accept it and luckily, it seems like she is not in the mood to argue.
The car ride is quiet, but not the uncomfortable kind. She is on her phone, reading what seems like emails to Harry and he notices the change in her instantly.
“Everything alright?”
She looks up with a frown and then sighs, locking her phone.
“Just work. I have this annoying assistant, called Daryl up in my ass on another project, he is trying to get me to give way more than I’m obligated to. I don’t even know who his boss is, the damn guy is like a mystery for some reason.”
“Like, they want more music from you?”
“Yes,” she nods. “They want to listen to stuff I’m working on in case something fits the album, but I’ve already delivered what I was paid for.”
Although he is eager to know more, to offer his help, he stays silent, staying within the boundaries this time, not pushing his luck even more. It’s a miracle itself that she even said this much about anything personal.
“So tomorrow?” Y/N asks when the car stops in front of her house. Harry looks at her and for a moment, all he can think about is the last time they were here like this.
“Yeah, I’m free,” he manages to speak up, snapping out of his memories.
“I’ll text you. Bye then,” she nods before climbing out of the car and heading towards her front door. Harry watches her for a bit before he tells the driver to leave.
She still hasn’t texted him. It’s four in the afternoon and he hasn’t heard of her since she got dropped off last night.
He was up early, went for a run, because he definitely needed to put his extra energy into something instead of continuously checking his phone, hoping for a text to pop up. Then he grabbed himself a bagel on the way back, brewed a coffee when he got home and had his breakfast while staring at his phone like a sore loser.
He took that damn phone everywhere he went. Literally everywhere. But the hours passed by and he got no sign and at first he just thought she got busy with something, but by the time he was done with lunch, it turned into a worry.
She was as punctual as one could get and she would have already texted him by now, even if it was just about that she is running late with whatever she was doing. A decent session lasts at least three or four hours and she is not one to pull an allnighter.
He has kept ordering himself to be patient all day, but now he lost the last bits of his bearing. At last he decides a text is fine, she can answer whenever it’s convenient.
HARRY: Hey, are we still up for a sesh?
He keeps the conversation open and watches his message sit there, its status staying delivered for what feels like forever. Then, about twenty minutes later, it changes to read and the three dots start dancing at the bottom of the screen as Harry’s heart threatens to jump right out of his chest. He knows he is acting ridiculously, but he pushes the thought to the back of his head for now.
The dots then disappear, but no message arrives. A minute goes by and they reappear and this time a gray bubble follows.
Y/N: I got a bit of a situation on my hands rn.
Then a photo pops up of her house with two police cars parked at the front and Harry’s stomach drops.
HARRY: I’m going over.
He sends the message before he could even think it through and he is already out the door by the time she reads his reply.
When he arrives one of the police cars is still there and Y/N is out front, talking to an officer. She is lacking her usual on-spot style, wearing a baggy sweat set, her hair in a state of mess he has never seen before, but even despite the worried expression on her face, she looks annoyingly beautiful.
She spots him as he gets out of his car, crossing the lawn with a slow jog.
“Hey, what’s going on?” he asks, on the verge of losing his marbles if he doesn’t find out what happened immediately.
“Give me a minute,” she tells him, turning back to the officer. “Thank you for everything. I’ll let you know if I find anything that’s missing.”
“Take care, Miss. We’ll have a car patrol around the neighborhood every hour for the next 24 hours, though it’s unlikely they will come back.”
With a nod, the officer walks over to the car, gets in and they drive away.
“What the hell happened?” Harry asks when Y/N finally turns to him.
“Someone broke into my house,” she says and then just simply heads back inside. Harry jogs after her.
“What? When?”
Y/N is walking straight to her kitchen and Harry follows her, locking the front door behind him.
“I went to a yoga class in the morning. When I came back, I noticed my lock was picked and the door was open.”
Harry watches her rummage through a cabinet before grabbing a bottle of tequila along with two glasses. She shoots a questioning look to him, to which he just nods, though he is still lost, confused and kind of angry. She pours a generous amount into both glasses and then hands one over to Harry before chugging hers down faster than ever.
“Did anything go missing?”
“Literally nothing,” she laughs bitterly. “Everything seems untouched and I just don’t understand it at all. Why would someone break in if they don’t take anything valuable?”
“Money? Jewelry? Everything is here?”
“Everything. I checked everything.”
Harry is now just as clueless as Y/N. It doesn’t make any sense, but it’s also somehow even worse. Whoever broke in had a reason to, but it’s completely hidden for now.
When she reaches for the bottle again he notices how much her hands are shaking. She is a nervous wreck.
“Hey, you don’t want to lose your rationality right now,” Harry softly warns her as he grabs her hand and stops her from pouring another one.
“I’m fucking terrified, Harry,” she admits, her voice shakes and so weak like never before. Harry’s heart breaks for her. “Have you ever felt unsafe in your own home?”
“I have,” Harry answers without hesitation and that’s when she finally looks him in the eyes again. “I had a few stalkers throughout the years and attempted break-ins.”
And just like that, something changes in her. The last bits of the wall she so carefully built up between the two of them are destroyed and she lets him see her fully and so naked emotionally. Her lips tremble, tears dwell in her eyes and just as the first sob breaks out of her chest, he is pulling her into his embrace.
For a second Harry thinks it might be just luck, that she is only opening up to him like this because he is the one who is physically here with her, but he then wipes this thought and just focuses on being the support she truly needs.
He holds her tight as she cries into his chest, pressing kisses to the top of her head until she calms down and regains control over her breathing.
“Pack a bag for a few days, stay at mine for a bit, okay?” he softly says when she finally pulls back, just enough to look at him. She doesn’t try to put up a fight, just nods and lets him walk her up to her bedroom.
He helps her pack, she grabs the clothes while Harry packs her laptop and chargers. Half an hour later they are getting into his car before heading over to Harry’s place. The car ride is silent and Harry doesn’t even try to talk her through it. He knows how important it is to let her find her own peace in this situation instead of trying to just temporarily divert her attention.
It’s actually her first time at his place, so she is curiously examining the place when they finally arrive. Harry shows her around quickly and then they reach the bedrooms upstairs.
“Choose a bedroom, personally my favorite is that one,” he smiles softly, pointing at the one next to his own bedroom. She walks closer and peeks inside, then into his bedroom and he watches her patiently.
“Can I… sleep with you?”
Her request surprises him, but he would be lying if he said a part of him wasn’t hoping for it.
“Sure, of course,” he nods and gestures for her to walk inside.
He sets down her bag to the ottoman at the end of his king sized bed while she looks around. Harry grabs a towel for her from the closet and hands it over to her.
“Take a shower, I’ll make tea for you, how does that sound?”
She just nods, holding the towel to her chest and he can’t believe how vulnerable she looks. The Y/N he’s known for the past few months is nothing like the woman standing in front of him right now.
“Alright, then I’ll…”
He clears his throat and then turns around to give her privacy, but he doesn’t even get to take a step before she grabs his hand and pulls him back. He opens his mouth to ask what else she needs, but he is met with her lips pressing against his, hard and needy and he wastes no time to return the kiss just as passionately. His arms curl around her tightly, like an armor, ready to protect her from anything and everything.
They stumble into the bathroom and she pulls away, just enough so that she can start stripping out of her clothes, but Harry stops for a minute before things get too heated too fast.
“Wait, are you… Today was a lot, are you sure you… want to…?”
“I’m sure. I need this,” she nods and even though she appears just as vulnerable as before, there’s some kind of strong will mixed in her state now. Harry stares back at her, looking for any kind of sign that this might be a bad idea, but then she adds: “I need you.”
And Harry knows in that moment that he would give her anything in this world, because he fell for her again, but this time, it’s nothing like he has ever felt before.
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!
#harry#styles#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles fluff#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles blurb
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one hell of a story
For @bucktommyweek prompt: alternate first meeting | 1.4k | Teen
Tommy's not usually one to fly for anyone but LAFD and himself, but the Skywitness News Eight helicopter desperately needed a pilot. He owed his old army buddy, Trent, a favor, which is how he finds himself trying to land a failing helicopter in the middle of a baseball field.
Unfortunately, he fails. But he meets Evan in the process, so it's worth it.
read on ao3 or under the cut
“This is Taylor Kelly with your morning traffic update… and we are going down!”
----
Tommy isn’t even supposed to be here. He’s not usually one to fly for anyone but LAFD and himself, but the Skywitness News Eight helicopter desperately needed a pilot and he owed his old army buddy, Trent, a favor. Tommy was too kind to tell him to fuck off, though, he’s pretty sure those two words will leave his mouth the next time he sees Trent’s face.
“Tommy, what’s going on?” Taylor shouts. She’s holding onto the seat belt around her like her life depends on it—and it does, but Tommy isn’t about to tell her that.
“Some kind of engine malfunction. Does Trent keep this thing in good condition?” Tommy asks.
“How am I supposed to know?!” He really hoped for a more confidence-inducing answer. “I’m pretty sure he likes this thing more than me if that says anything!”
“It does,” Tommy mutters, though he knows Taylor can hear him through the radio. Trent always talked about his crush on the redhead and how he would drop everything if she agreed to date him. Unfortunately, Tommy now knows he’s not exactly her type—no man is—so he thinks he’ll have to break the news sooner rather than later.
“Are we falling?! Why does it feel like we’re falling?!” Taylor screams, panicked gasps following in quick succession.
“I’m going to do my best to land, okay? There’s a baseball field below us, and if all goes to plan, we’ll land safely and you’ll have one hell of a story,” Tommy relays.
Taylor laughs humorlessly into the radio. “And if it doesn’t?”
“It’ll still be one hell of a story,” he declares.
Then he focuses on saving their lives.
The baseball field is immense and empty enough that he doesn’t have to worry about collateral damage from the landing, but he realizes quickly it won’t be that easy. Every single control he usually manipulates with ease shakes under his grip, and no matter how much pressure he puts on the cyclic, there’s no tilting his way in the right direction.
He gets the machine as close to the ground as possible and prays that’s enough.
All he remembers is the blades getting louder, a metallic screeching, and a terror-filled shriek, then everything goes dark.
“Tommy? Can you hear me?”
“I think he’s coming to!”
“Kinard, open those baby blues for us!”
When Tommy blinks to consciousness, he feels like he’s been hit by a truck.
“Nope, just crashed a helicopter,” an unfamiliar voice says. He sees the blur of a few hands reaching out to slap the man, and when he follows the arms, he thinks he must be dreaming.
“Wilson? Han?” Tommy’s voice is almost hoarse and he wonders how terrified Taylor was of his warning screams—
Taylor.
He jolts up as best as he can but Hen and Chimney hold him down before he can go too far. The pain that radiates through his chest knocks the breath out of him and he falls horizontal once more, clutching his stomach in pain. He breathes quickly and shallowly, as any attempts to fill his lungs result in sharp twinges of pain. Someone he doesn’t recognize—the voice from before—places an oxygen mask over his face.
“She’s fine. Not a scratch on her,” the man soothes. Tommy likes the sound of his voice. He stops trying to escape his old teammates’ grasp and instead, angles his head back to connect eyes with the unknown man.
He’s a boy, really. Looks at least a decade younger than Tommy, but that doesn’t stop the rush of attraction that seeps through him. The man’s hair is mussed up like someone has run their hands through it—Tommy wants to run his hands through it—and he’s wearing his turnout coat unbuttoned like the picture of casuality. Tommy’s not sure he’s ever seen someone wear the uniform with such confidence and such… sweetness. He’s squinting his eyes from the sun though Tommy still notices a few small pink patches surrounding his eyebrow that match the color of his unfairly kissable lips.
“Yeah, he’s fine,” Hen decides. Tommy knows he’s been caught when he recognizes the sarcasm in her voice. Hen’s always been an observant one. He can practically hear her eyes roll as she makes quick introductions. “Tommy, this is Evan Buckley. Buck, Tommy Kinard.”
“From Air Ops,” Evan says eagerly. Tommy’s stomach flips at the acknowledgment. How has he never heard of Evan before? “What are you doing flying with Taylor Kelly?”
“Slumming it with Skywitness Traffic, Tommy? I can’t believe I saved your life for this,” Chimney teases. Tommy smacks him on his nearest body part and takes the oxygen mask off of his face.
As if on instinct, Evan reaches to put it back, and their hands brush and linger.
Tommy hates to be cliche, but they’re lucky the ambulance doesn’t blow up when the sparks fly through the flowing oxygen. Actually, being touched by Evan Buckley seems like a hell of a way to go…
“Was helping out an old army friend,” Tommy explains. “Can’t let L.A. fall subject to bad traffic patterns, can I?”
Evan laughs, and Tommy’s stomach does a weird fluttering he hasn’t felt in ages.
“Guess you regret that favor, huh?” Chimney jokes.
“Not anymore,” Tommy mutters just loud enough for Evan to hear.
Tommy makes sure to maintain eye contact and only barely stops himself from winking at the poor kid. He’s blushing like crazy, redness spreading up from underneath his high neckline and overtaking his adorable cheeks. From the stillness around them, Tommy doesn’t think this is usual behavior, and he can’t help but feel a little satisfied about that. He chances a glance at Hen and Chimney who are both staring at Evan like he’s lost his damn mind. It takes everything in Tommy not to giggle—both because of embarrassment and the fact he might actually pass out from pain if he does.
“So, what’s the verdict, Evan?” Tommy asks.
The adorable man blinks a few times before glancing up at Hen and Chimney, who Tommy is very aware are the ones with the answer to his question. Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy sees Hen gesturing for Evan to answer himself.
“U-Um, I’m sure you feel ten-tenderness in your ribs so that’s… gotta be looked at.” Evan shakes his head like he’s all too aware of his stammering, but Tommy couldn’t be more smitten. “You lost consciousness so H-Hen—she checked for any issues with your eyes but nothing abnormal. How’s your head?”
Without thinking, Tommy replies, “Would you like to find out?”
There’s a chorus of: “Tommy!” “Get a room!” “Jesus Christ!” “Oh my god!”
All of which are ignored by both of them.
Instead, Evan tilts his head and smiles—it would’ve knocked Tommy off his feet if he were standing.
“I think I just might,” Evan agrees.
“Oh, you two are made for each other,” Hen turns toward Chimney, “how did we not see that?”
“Buck likes guys?!” Chimney says instead. Evan blushes even deeper and Tommy’s glad that he’s not on a heart monitor for all to see it skip a beat. “No, I’m done with this. To answer your question, Tommy, you may have an acute head injury and you definitely have some broken ribs. We’ve gotta get you to the hospital so if you’re done flirting…”
“What if I’m not?” Tommy argues, just to rile Chimney up a little more. Tommy always enjoyed that—misses it, really. “What if I want to see Evan blush a little more?”
“Oh my god,” Buck mumbles. He hides his face in his hands, but Tommy can still see the smile lines between the cracks in his fingers. “Hen, get him out of here.”
“Got it, Buckaroo,” she agrees, shrugging at Tommy playfully.
“I didn’t get your number!” Tommy shouts as best as he can with presumably broken ribs. He knows they’ll hurt a lot more the second he focuses on them, but how can he focus on anything but Evan?
“118.”
With that, Hen shuts the doors and Tommy sighs the happiest sigh he can muster.
“Oh, he’s—” Tommy doesn’t even have the words, but Hen seems to understand.
“You’re in trou-ble, Kinard.” She clicks her tongue.
And Tommy’s never been so excited by the prospect.
(Chimney derails any further conversation with a line of consciousness that starts with, “Okay, since when do both Tommy and Buck like men?! How did I miss this?!”)
#bucktommy#kinley#evan buckley#tommy kinard#911 on abc#bucktommyweekend#buck x tommy#tevan#i hate tagging that pls stop making me#911#911 fic#bucktommy fic#my writing
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RAAAAAAAAH CHAPTER 13 BRO!!!!!
as always, i read it like a rabid animal, and then reread the prev 4 chapters and then reread this again HAHA
your work ages like fine wine, and i read and treasure every word of it, especially on rereads when i can make myself slow down to really take it all in <3
"He takes it all away. Every time." made me WEEP!!!!! its what she DESERVES!!!! the dependability and the escape into him and simon (simon takes charge obvs, but johnny is just as much an outlet. sweet sweet boy)
i think he also realizes that she's seeing it as escapism and starts to fall away a bit, bc of how he stops her and asks to check in. it makes me curious abt his and simon's early relationship, if he's recognizing the same pattern of behavior and comparing them.
going on with that, when she was showing them her scars, AUUUUUUGH. that hit so hard man. the “No but… they’re hideous.”
“No.” Simon croaks, voice thick. “There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t perfect.”
SIMOOOOOOOON he sees so much of himself in her. its gotta be heartbreaking, knowing she's where he used to be. he gets it fr. i cant imagine two people more suited for her, someone who's been where she is and got out, and the person who's helped get that someone out of that pit. fuck dude. you're so good at this HAHAHA
im not gonna say nothin abt the good girl stuff…. but heehee!
also also "I'm not a little human nurse" made me laugh so hard LMAO pure arizona from grey's. ive been watching it lately (started right before you started posting simple math actually) reading the hospital bits of SM, you do a really good job of capturing the same energy and stakes and work dynamics that you get watching grey's. im honestly still waiting for the other shoe to drop on the stupid attending marshall, there's always something that a shitty attending can mess up down the road lmao
the ending on this chap killed me though. they knew she was flighty, and that she's smart and capable, but its gotta be so hard to get the relief of her coming back after the day out without answering the phone, only to find the papers the next morning. in bunny's defense though, she mentioned in chapters before moving in (i think before graves hurt her?) with them that she had to start looking at outs, and these papers aren't a 2-day turnaround; she probably bought them weeks ago and only now picked them up. i could be wrong though! i think its unfortunate timing, but she also probably just wants the relief knowing that she's got the backup plan accessible. as much as she loves the boys and penny, she's still not used to having the dependability. the safety scares her, or at least gives her the idea of a false sense of security, since she's been on edge for so so long.
i give her big smooch. poor bun. poor boys, and poor penny. manifesting the worst for graves, truly, rot in hell you idiot american
i hope you're feeling better, its lovely to read your works but even better when you're doing well yourself ❤️❤️❤️
I loved reading this! I adore you.
I love how you noticed that Johnny does stop to check in. He has a very firm grip on her mental and emotional state, (it’s not his first rodeo) and he knows just how to bring her back.
The two of them + Bunny is really a dream come true even if she doesn’t realize it yet (they do) and it will take a lot of time and work on everyone’s part.
I think your notes in your last paragraph are pretty spot on, too. Bunny will talk about it more in the next two chapters but- getting a new identity is not a two day turnaround.
Also yeah, I was channeling Arizona with that line 💀 I was hoping someone would catch it!
10/10 I love your breakdowns, no notes, perfection, they always make me smile.
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80’s Hackearney Drabble idea, comin’ in hot!
Snack Time at Hackett’s Quarry
- popsicles or soft serve ice cream maybe?
- maybe something more wholesome, like juicy watermelon slices that inevitably dribble down someone’s chin?
- do the campers and counsellors ever have to do their own baking, and if so, poor young Travis having to put up with various “bun in oven” and “buttered muffin” jokes from the others
Hell yes, sweet treats!
It's the second Saturday in June at Hackett's Summer Camp and apparently it's known as Sweet Saturday. Laura's informed that this is the day all the campers work on making sweet treats to trade with one another.
The treats don't have to be particularly difficult - just fun to put together. Laura's never considered herself much of a cook - hell, before this she wasn't even a very good waitress, aka the person who delivers the food - but luckily she gets the youngest campers.
The idea of using fruit juice to make easy popsicles via ice trays pleases them immensely and even Laura finds herself having fun as she helps the little kids carefully pour their chosen juice into the tray's little cups - sticking toothpicks in their centers.
As the evening rolls in the treats start being swapped and Laura can't help but feel a glow of pride as she sees the tiny popsicles floating around among the cookies, muffins, and slices of cake.
The cake really intrigues her, as it doesn't look like an ordinary cake, which she discovers is the truth when she's presented with a slice by Chris, "Here! Take some icebox cake!"
It's always beyond bizarre when Laura is faced with a young Chris. After all, he was - in many ways - the kick off for her woes in 2021. But now, in 1986, he's young and innocent and eager to please as he forces the small paper plate on her, "C'mon - join T and me. We've got a great spot!"
Laura gamely follows along, seeing Travis resting against a tall, thick tree near the dock. Travis is picking at his food, as if unsatisfied with it when he catches sight of her with his sibling.
His back goes ramrod straight even as he pushes his glasses by the bridge up his nose. He gives her that awkward (annoying) endearing (goofy) smile as he greets her with a quiet, "Uh, hey."
"Hey." Laura returns just as noncommittally even as Chris takes a seat next to Travis and beams, "Brought Laura over to snack with us. Hope that's okay."
Travis shoots Chris a look that Laura recognizes as a secret, brother-based look. While she doesn't have siblings of her own, Laura's been friends with, and seen enough, brothers and sisters shoot one another that look - the inside kind that only they understand, to get that that's what she's seeing.
However, if the look shot his way bothers him, Chris doesn't show it as he digs into his large collection of treats, chocolate melting all over his fingers as he breaks apart a cookie
Laura sits across from the brothers and watches with quiet amusement until Chris asks, "You have a favorite yet, Laura? These cookies from Nancy's group is my favorite so far."
"I haven't tried them yet."
"Oh! You gotta! Here!" Chris offers her half of the cookie he just tore into and she takes it, feeling a slight pang of guilt as she does so.
Jesus, she led the charge to kill this guy in the future and here he's giving her a cookie. Still, she pushes the thought aside and tries to act normal, biting into the treat and trying to enjoy it.
Chris nudges Travis and chuckles, "Don't worry! She has some of your cake too!"
Travis looks at her and Laura feels like she's chewing in the most unattractive way possible so she swallows a big hunk of what's left in her mouth and then coughs, clearing her throat as she holds up the paper plate Chris gave her.
Travis's lips squirm like he's fighting off a smile. Chris has no resistance, smiling widely, "It's our Grandma's recipe! Ma taught us!"
"She did, huh." Laura tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Mrs. Hackett is the last thing she wants to hear about when she's trying to enjoy something sweet.
"Yup! It's got vanilla pudding and graham crackers and whipped cream and-!"
"She doesn't need the ingredient list, bud." Travis grumbles and Chris rolls his eyes, "Whatever. You're just upset they didn't have watermelons this year."
Laura's eyebrows rise, "You like watermelons?"
Every time she learns something new about Travis it's always so... surprising. She can't say why, other than the fact that - as her jailor - he'd seemed so remote and distant. So cold. As if he didn't like anything past being a bastard.
But in this time - when he's young and open - she's slowly uncovered more and more about him and each thing seems more startling than the last.
"You bet he does! Sometimes we have spitting contests with the seeds!"
Travis looks appropriately mortified at this and Laura can't help the genuine laugh that escapes her. Clearly hoping to continue his entertaining streak, Chris rattles on, "You should see him go! His face gets all wet and sloppy and the juice dribbles down his chin from chowing down and he makes all these noises and-!"
"Shut it, doofus!" Travis hisses and he pushes hard at his brother's shoulder. Normally Laura might object, but Chris's innocent descriptions and the way Travis's face started to turn pink hints to something that makes her feel... peculiar.
Like she'd like to see Travis's face wet with the clear juice of the watermelon. His lips shiny...
Laura fans at herself and excuses it as an unexpected spike in the temperature, nevermind that the sun is setting. She takes a bite of the icebox cake and hums in approval. It is pretty good and Chris, over his momentary annoyance with Travis, smiles again, "You like it?!"
"Yeah." She confesses, feeling like it's a dirty secret, "I do."
"Good! He made it!" Chris boasts, pointing to Travis and Laura gets the sudden impression that the younger Hackett is attempting to play as a wingman.
Good lord.
Travis, for his part, just avoids her eyes and shakes his head, "It's nothing. Besides, I had help."
"That's me!" Chris crows, "I was in his group!"
"Yeah, yeah - you did okay, squirt." Travis ruffles his brother's hair and Laura can't help but grin. Much like the desserts they've been consuming, the Hackett brothers are a sweet pair.
So much so that it's a shame for her to know how things end. And how they end bittersweet.
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AHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHH
#mine#it’s a pet store at least but.. my first official job#It’s kind of awkward because my older sibling had this job and they and the boss that sent this Hate. each other#so I hope she does not recognize me ^______^
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Just watched Nimona
The fact this movie never got a theater release because of Blue Sky's closure and Disney deciding to nix it once acquired will forever break my heart holy shit.
Like up front it is BEAUTIFULLY animated, the writing is tight as hell, the story is genuinely moving and amazing. By that alone it deserved to be in theaters.
*deep breath*
But BOY HOWDY am I SALTY AS FUCK that a animated movie that is accessible to kids, especially queer kids, got knocked out of the process to reach theaters when
IT JUST CASUALLY HAS A INTERRACIAL GAY COUPLE WITH A (metaphorically) ADOPTED (literally) TRANS CHILD AS THE 3 MAIN CHARACTERS IN THE MOVIE THE FUCKING HELL WE COULD'VE HAD ALL THIS PERFECTLY DONE QUEER MEDIA ON THE BIG SCREEN AS A COHERENT AMAZING STORY FUC-
#Nimona#Nimona film#God I feel Nimona so hard I actually had to fast forward some scenes because I am not in a GREAT headspace right now so it was kinda#triggering at the moment because hahaha yeah people see me as a monster. Whooooooooo.#like god I hope so many kids watch this#young teens trying to figure stuff out#And like I have fond memories of the OG Nimona- I was There for the webcomic#but the ending of the original comic ngl kinda scarred me a bit#and I'm so glad it shifted#LIKE SPOILERS FOR WHAT DOESN'T HAPPEN IN THE MOVIE BUT WHAT I REMEMBER FROM THE END OF THE COMIC#but in the comic spoilers Nimona does live but still wanders and it's left open whether she and Ballister ever meet again#I could be misremembering but yeah#like as a NB person it made me feel like I may never find a home- a place to belong#so I think the fact that Nimona and Ballister met at the end#where it shows the city is open to embracing Nimona#it kinda puts a salve on that wound#LIKE DON'T GET ME WRONG I recognize the power of the OG ending#Stevenson was exploring his own feelings and figuring themselves out and they were younger so it made sense#but sometimes even beautiful worthy media can leave a negative mark#depending on the person#because we all have different experiences and what is healing to one can be poison to the other#so YMMV on which ending you like better
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Windy at my house + power flickering = no comm work = quick laptop doodle
#my characters#i genuinely hoped the wind would die down but like ??? nah?#and the last time we lost power without an actual storm it WAS bc of wind#and so i just get so panicked over please dont fry my tablet with a power surge#if it calms down by tonight i really wanna work on art since i spent almost all day yesterday struggling with a pose and i finally#think i thought of something that could work and then (gestures to the wind) fuck me#also in regards to these two you have seen me drawing deacon a lot recently and i only drew armya once so far#she is a devoted follower to fulj which is really rare since fulj no longer has a large following nor a temple#so when fulj finds her its comforting and reassuring and she adores armya a lot#however the fact that fulj relentlessly teases deacon and calls him names is like..... ok wait would you really be mean to me if it wasnt#for her ? like would you still pick on me? :c and shes like lol yeah dude absolutely#deacon is just constantly dunked on by the lightning group and hes so sad because he wanted to be friends :c#but also the guy wouldnt really recognize the followers if it wasnt for the traces of lady fulj#so if they would wander into the city without having been possessed recently he probably wouldnt even cast a glance their way#nothing personal he just straight up doesnt decipher looks fast at all#he could think they look familiar but then not know why ESPECIALLY if they wear something he's not used to them in#like if armya showed up in something other than her loose white jacket he would not be able to go AH YES ARMYA immediately#he identifies people by hair or clothing details so it kinda messes him up if people remove whatever identifying trait they have#long hair getting a hair cut? suddenly a whole new person#and armya knows this very well since he never looked her way unless fulj was possessing her or trailing her#so she does like to tease him as just. we are both in servitude to a deity and same rank but like. bro youre too easy to mock#(fulj agrees)
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anyone want to pull an edna pontellier with me
#we realize that we're alive individual people with agency and sensations we can pursue but are trapped by societal expectations (originally#Heavily gendered but this was also like 150 years ago) but we cannot give up our newfound selves for the sake of our children like we're#supposed to so we strip naked on a beah like a newborn animal bare before god for the first time and swim out and drown#spoilers for 'the awakening' i guess sorry#to put this is modern terms does anyone want to pull a brian david gilbert 'and now i am going to throw myself into the sea' with me but we#don't come jogging soggily up the beach towards the camera at the end we just actually drown#sorry to once again be sad on main i just. i cannot keep having the same breakdown every 3 months! every quarter i have to re-realize 'oh i#probably don't actually want to die i just cannot in any circumstances keep living like this' and then i keep living like this#i am so tired. i am so fucking tired of effort not meaning anything bc i try and try and try and i still can't turn anything in#finals posting#anyway edna and adèle should've kissed who's with me. adèle comes over and watches edna's kids while she's out gallivanting and recognizing#her personhood like a good little wife but she also is the first person to welcome edna im and like connect personally with her? edna is a#lesbian but she died before she realized that was an option. hot take.#whatever i hope everyone has a fun and safe st. paddy's#a post
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literally 500 pages into this book and they decided that NOW was a good time to tell me that he hates sex and romance and also has no friends
#triple a (asexual aromantic & aplatonic) king#he DOES have a gender and it is Depression#truly obsessed with this book’s commitment to introducing me to characters only to later reveal that they are completely insane#spent the whole book telling me about how nice this lady is and then she shows up and she’s a nutcase#i literally love it#SHOW ME MORE MESSED UP FREAKS#YOU KNOW WHAT I’M HERE FOR#no one recognizes the symbolic horror yet which is a shame (for them)#this is one of those situations where i feel like the end will be SO obvious once i get there#but right now i still have no idea what is going to happen#i have a guess - but for literally everyone’s sake i hope i’m wrong#FASCINATED to see though!
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i know we’re all ready for some speeches that pride our collective prejudice in the season finale, and i am ON BOARD. but i also want to take a moment to think about the fact that this story so far is essentially the prologue to persuasion.
ur main characters fall in love, one of them allows an authority figure to persuade them against acting on it, and then they’re apart for the better part of a decade?
imagine!! hob never gets rue’s letters. hob knows how HE feels, but he also knows a match with rue is neither suitable nor does it satisfy his orders, besides which to put rue in the position of having to refuse (or--well! never mind!) such an offer is callous in the extreme. the good major marries a lady of the seelie court. he tucks away that feeling of love, real true love that he felt for rue, and buries it somewhere deep. he only takes it out and examines it on v special occasions.
meanwhile rue realizes that hob must have valued his orders over anything that was between them. it breaks their heart just enough to remind them of the value of a sure thing. why give up a position of prestige, social status, and comfort when other risks have so recently failed to pay off?
perhaps rue remains in charge of the bloom, or perhaps they resign that position and join the chorus. either way, duty separates Our Heroes (TM). hob is sent away on a campaign, and rue is occupied with their obligations to the court of wonder.
and THEN, years later, circumstance throws them together again! they’re forced to interact in social settings, surrounded by people who have no idea they once meant so much to each other. friends of friends keep offering to introduce them--’ah, mistrex, have you met major kp hob? he is recently returned from the fighting on the peninsula’--and are surprised when one or the other mutters something about being previously acquainted. just in passing, of course. yes, at a bloom. it was a long time ago.
meanwhile rue is trying desperately to repress feelings they told themselves time had worn away long ago, and hob is reminding himself that what they shared back then was enough--more than enough--it’s sustained him for YEARS--
#d20#d20 fey and flowers#a court of fey and flowers#i wanna be clear that like. this is not the story i am ASKING for. we're getting a beautiful story that i REALLY HOPE resolves happily#within the next two eps#but they really are setting up a remarkably good persuasion sitch#i also don't want to ignore what is for me the most heartwrenching aspect of persuasion#aka how startled and upset wentworth is#and how worn down anne is. how disdain and outright neglect from those around her#has caused her to withdraw#does no one else see her for the BRILLIANT WOMAN she truly is?#her competence? her intelligence? her compassion?#spoiler alert: they do not. but he still does. he can't help it.#this applies to rue and hob coming and going tbh.#hob: the court of wonder has ill-used rue's talents. the chorus? they are meant to be an individual voice.#and we already know that rue recognizes that the goblin court doesn't recognize or admire the very qualities that make hob so wonderful.#anyway i love persuasion. was that clear?
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Just started TLJ for fun because it was a Long Day and I wanted some form of distraction that didn't involve the current Ghost Crew kinda high stakes episode I was halfway through and I must say..... this is so strange to me
#the brief scenes with paige just gutted me#you know that post about the unnamed servant in king lear (i THINK it's king lear at least) that has that cs lewis quote#that's paige. like. that's literally her that's her role in the story that's what she chooses to do and that's why#poe's Personally Sanctioned mission to destroy the dreadnought or whatever it's called succeeds. it's because of her#not gonna lie i wish we saw more of her!!!!!#anyhow there are a lot of things that were little gems. like our intro to rose is her sitting alone in an empty space sobbing#because she lost her sister as she's clutching the matching necklace. that was a really good bit#and finn being like. WHERE'S REY. HOW CAN SHE GET TO US IN THIS CHAOS.#and the sheer intensity of rage from kylo ren#unlike many of my fellow tumblr girlies (please don't burn me at the stake for this) i don't find adam driver very attractive and am a bit#puzzled as to what makes people like him So Much (mentally i'm like ???? which is my reaction to timothee chalamet enthusiasm too)#but i can give him one thing. he's absolutely terrifying. the intensity and sheer out of control FORCE of his anger terrifies ME#probably on the same level as hayden's anakin does tbh#i jumped a little when he punched the elevator wall. that man has got Deep Seated Issues that he REALLY needs to work out at this point#there are also bits of this movie that REALLY confuzzle me#like leia's force hovering through space (????) and poe's anger/control/defiance (??????????)#and also LUKE GIVING UP????? i was like. well the video essay peeps on youtube were right about THIS bit being#the Worst Part Thus Far. a luke skywalker abandoning hope is a luke skywalker i'm struggling to recognize#anyhow more thoughts incoming...... class has started and media analysis brain is on#is it EVER OFF THOUGH LOL#tlj liveblog
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aymeric de borel oh my god
#🌙.rambles#[ ffxiv. ]#nvm the azemet brainrot#this man is the only person on my mind#apollo's annoying me rn bcs she's doing the enw role quests w aymeric 🤕#the gposing... the screenshots she's taking OH MY FUCKING GOD#i'm making fun of her but ik i'm gna do just the same ahaha 💀#watched her play a bit through the role quests#prompted me to look back at my own old heavensward notes again. yes#cringe and free.#nooooo i'm looking at my other notes n i have more ffxiv quotes here#'we were blind to the truth once so i'll tell you this as one fool to another. light dark it doesn't matter. what matters is how you choose#to use them. we made our choice and you see what came of it so please. forge a different path. seize a better fate.'#to face and accept a loss on such a grand scale that /they/ have experienced... i can only hope their tragedy is something#i'll never have to face myself#n then drk stuff here — 'the freedom to follow your heart'#'sacrifice is to renounce that which binds you' & 'to recognize that which matters—and forsake all that does not'#he 'knows you cannot continue to carry all these burdens. heed his warning before it is too late'#the pent-up anger of the wol here is a feeling i know all too well. to face such injustice and find no closure to prevent anymore bleeding..#'—yearning to be free. to set you free. you need only ask'#drk rlly speaks out to me in a sense that i struggle with a kind of 'dark' or other side as well#hmmm. the actual jpn dialogue offers more meaningful insight as well. i'll read those fan translations again soon#ahhh the lore i wrote here for my wol in relation to her white rose. i rmber the flower language i researched n the symbolisms i thought of#n i have like several paragraphs here of 'lore' for my wol but i see how it uh. painfully reflects on me#talking abt burdens and trust and distance and loneliness and. 'when she faltered all she knew was to keep on going'#these dynamics i wrote for my wol w charas r cute#the contrast i have here with emet n the exarch is sad#oh n that scene with emet. some notes i have are 'remember' 'GOD I CRIES THERE HES SO LONELY'#n i write of finding comfort in remembering. in the abyss. in the familiarity#n ryne here... 'her words to ryne' 'touched me so badly' 'its what i want'. uhuh. i will not read anymore i will breakdown if i do
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i love to spend an hour composing a message in chinese to the people in genshin impact who see the name 小白雪花 on the north america server and believe me to also be living in mainland china, explaining that although i am but a lowly american-born taiwanese and therefore almost functionally illiterate, i know enough to respond to a request for help and also be able to kill things in two hits
#it is now an hour past my bedtime but it'll be fiiiine#something i do notice when sitting down to compose chinese messages is that. there DOES SEEM to be some sort of improvement going on#like the brain will start pulling up phrases i didn't previously know how to use n i'll look em up to make sure they're right#i think it's a side effect of both playing gnshn cn dubbed and also the retranslation work i do on the game sometimes#when studying its lore/for nat when she is studying its lore#it never feels like anything sticks no matter how often i see the words tho. i'll be like 'oh i recognize that word.'#but i won't know how to say it or what it means so that's embarrassing#花話#anyway. at least if any of them ask why i chose the name 小白雪花 it's an easy explanation. '因為我最喜歡化學' lol#很喜歡花花;最喜歡化學;就感覺'雪花'就是很可愛的名字#i also suspect that my frequent avoidance of 'i' when speaking will make me sound extremely formal and/or polite#or maybe it will make me sound old. i don't know. i suspect that i speak in a way that's at least influenced by my mother#like i was composing the thing right. and i was like 'i already used this word. we need to find a synonym or else we'll die'#'we need it to be a fancy synonym. mom used a fancy synonym one time two years ago. let's find that one.'#funny enough this is also my thought process when writing fic in english half the time#idk if i mentioned this before. but my writing process and style feels very chinese to me#it is also important to me that i specify to these people that i am a ~taiwanese~#i have no idea how this makes them feel. but it is my way of signalling 'i do not read simplified well n hope you can read traditional'#and also for cultural heritage pride reasons too
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Yet another beautiful day to have the Maxwel tag blocked (can't see half of the posts in the Wendy tags)
#rat rambles#starve posting#maxwell posters have lost any semblance of tolerance from me ages ago Ive yet to meet a maxwell fan who's just like a normal person#and to clarify I actually do like maxwel as I am the number one just some asshole whos in too deep enjoyer#but dear god are ppl just absolutely incapable of being normal abt this man and everyone around him#and even beyond that ppl just do not get this man like please he is indeed interesting but not because of some 'retconed redemption'#like pls we can live in a world where he is not an irridemable monster and is in fact just some guy while also still being a flawed person#like the fact that he is so deeply flawed in ways that he never actually properly adressed and challenged is the interesting thing to me#like look at me. he went through horrible shit he didnt deserve. that didnt inherently make him a better or worse person#it just made him a more miserable person#and he didnt escape because of some change of heart or character development#and afterwards he teamed up with wilson because of necessity#I do think on some level he genuinely cares abt the other survivors and he does have genuine regret for how things turned out#but again those things dont inherently mean he moved past the flaws that got him here it just means he has the ability to recognize that#shit sucks and that he wish none of it happened#its why encore is one of my favorite animations from a character perspective because it shows some juicy charlie and maxwell stuff#mainly it shows both that charlie has not forgiven his ass and is manipulating him and that maxwell is still susceptible to it#which isnt a sigh of them rolling back development it's just a sign that maxwell is easy to manipulate with the right cards#which adds up considering his past and his present very well in my opinion#this is a man whos historically always ran away from his problems and is always on the hunt for a sense of control#and charlie tapped into both that and his ever present guilt#its in fact very unsurprising and not out of place for him to fall for that sort of manipulation#and it also makes for a great set up for the inevitable betrayal from charlie as maxwell is hit by the harsh reality of his situation#and that whole situation would lead to some yummy tasty parallels when charlie inevitably gets betrayed herself (I hope)#the ways charlie and maxwel are so similar yet so different facinates me deeply I love how much charlie doesnt realize shes kinda fucked#I want her to be betrayed so hard and left in the dust with no ground to stand on I want the rug pulled out from under her feet#her composition comes from her confidence in the necessity of her actions and the moral superiority she feels over maxwell#so having her sense of superiority be revoked would make for a super fascinating dynamic as she tries to justify the situation in her head#I wanna see her siral and then maybe change her pronouns idk
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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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Help! I'm a Perfect Genius, but This Potential Employer Asked Me a Boring Interview Question!
Ask A Manager, 13 Feb 2024:
I was rejected from a role for not answering an interview question. I had all the skills they asked for, and the recruiter and hiring manager loved me.
I had a final round of interviews — a peer on the hiring team, a peer from another team that I would work closely with, the director of both teams (so my would-be grandboss, which I thought was weird), and then finally a technical test with the hiring manager I had already spoken to.
(I don’t know if it matters but I’m male and everyone I interviewed with was female.)
The interviews went great, except the grandboss. I asked why she was interviewing me since it was a technical position and she was clearly some kind of middle manager. She told me she had a technical background (although she had been in management 10 years so it’s not like her experience was even relevant), but that she was interviewing for things like communication, ability to prioritize, and soft skills. I still thought it was weird to interview with my boss’s boss.
She asked pretty standard (and boring) questions, which I aced. But then she asked me to tell her about the biggest mistake I’ve made in my career and how I handled it. I told her I’m a professional and I don’t make mistakes, and she argued with me! She said everyone makes mistakes, but what matters is how you handle them and prevent the same mistake from happening in the future. I told her maybe she made mistakes as a developer but since I actually went to school for it, I didn’t have that problem. She seemed fine with it and we moved on with the interview.
A couple days later, the recruiter emailed me to say they had decided to go with someone else. I asked for feedback on why I wasn’t chosen and she said there were other candidates who were stronger.
I wrote back and asked if the grandboss had been the reason I didn’t get the job, and she just told me again that the hiring panel made the decision to hire someone else.
I looked the grandboss up on LinkedIn after the rejection and she was a developer at two industry leaders and then an executive at a third. She was also connected to a number of well-known C-level people in our city and industry. I’m thinking of mailing her on LinkedIn to explain why her question was wrong and asking if she’ll consider me for future positions at her company but my wife says it’s a bad idea.
What do you think about me mailing her to try to explain?
Sir,
You have been wronged in the most grievous of ways by a coven of retaliatory, self-aggrandizing women who have failed in the extreme to recognize your brilliance, your talent, and above all, your general superiority.
Of course you should mail this mediocre "grandboss" on LinkedIn to inform her of the deep offense she caused you by interviewing you in the first place, let alone doing so using a boring question — indeed, you have a moral and professional obligation to do so in order to preserve your honor and the honor of scores of men like you who have never done a single solitary thing wrong in their lives, ever.
But I beg you to consider doing more. A single, private message to one incompetent bitch may not convey to the necessary parties the depth and breadth of the situation. Many, many people have important lessons to learn from your experience, and I encourage you to share it widely. Consider making a public LinkedIn post, and ensure that it is shareable across platforms. Depending on your financial resources, a billboard with your name, professional headshot, and contact information could go a long way toward ensuring that everyone in your industry who needs to know just how you handled the way these women treated you, does know about it.
I hope that in your continuing job search, you are able to connect with potential employers who have a much better grasp of all you bring to the table.
#advice#bad advice#ask a manager#workplace#workplace advice#linkedin#bosses#working#developers#coding#fedoras#men#misogyny#workplace misogyny#hiring#job searching#employment
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