#I will hopefully be more regular with them in the future

[doobea]

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.

[brainmuncher]

A mis-text-derstanding

After a long night of patrolling around Amity, Danny damn near collapsed onto his bed. His back ached from a stray ectoblast and his eyes felt heavier than a mountain. Technus had done something to the technology around the town. At random a piece of technology would suddenly go rogue with a virus the ghost implemented. The virus would make the item try to capture anyone in the vicinity using any means necessary. So Danny had been doing regular patrols around town to catch anyone who needed help.

That also means that his sleeping time had been radically reduced. Without even the energy to lift his head, Danny patted around for his phone. Once he finally found the device he hefted himself on his side with a groan. It was a new phone since he was the first casualty in Technus’ plan. Thankfully, Sam had given him another so his parents wouldn’t try to make him one. (Who knows what kind of ‘anti-ghost’ protection they would’ve put on it.)

Tucker had promised that he was working on fixing the virus going around. Hopefully, he had some kind of good news to share. As soon as Danny went to message him he realized he hadn’t downloaded their chat app to the new phone. With a sigh he knew that he would just have to use normal texting but with careful codewords.

Putting in Tucker's number with a yawn, Danny sent the first message.

‘It’s your undead bro. The night out tonight was killer. Any news on the techie progress?’

Danny smashed his face into his bed with a sigh after hitting send. Knowing Tucker he was probably face first in his laptop and won’t notice the message for a bit. He could probably just close his eyes and…

Before he could even consider taking a nap there was a generic jingle from the phone. He should really get to fixing that. Tuck deserves a much better ringtone than some bells.

‘Nothing noteworthy yet. It's harder to crack than normal but nothing I can't handle. Do you need me to take over for tomorrow?’

‘Also why aren't you using our chat?’

Danny squinted at the screen with a slight frown. It had been a while since Sam or Tucker tried to go out in his place. They learned pretty quickly that it made Danny way too anxious to have them out there without him. Something about not being there to protect them if they got over their heads made Danny’s chest ache. 

And of course, Tucker noticed that he wasn’t using the app he made. It was a bit glitchy at times, but what tech wasn’t when it came to Danny? Not only was it secure, but it became an easier way for them to establish a timeline for filing. Jazz had been the one who realized that they didn’t have steady information on not just the rouges but the events of the fights. It became a staple to write out what happened and what went wrong after hearing her lecture about it.

‘Don’t have it on this phone yet. And you know how I feel about you being out there.’

Danny watched the screen for a bit, waiting to see if Tucker would reply immediately again. His mom probably caught him on his computer all day and was forcing him to separate himself from it for a while. It wasn’t an uncommon thing for Ms. Foley to do.

‘Yeah yeah, Mr. Possessive. Do you need me to walk you through how to get it again?’

Snorting at the pun, Danny easily replied. If Tucker was feeling sassy enough to joke about that, then he would push some buttons back. It was a simple banter that they sometimes fell into.

‘You know how I get with technology. I’m more likely to break something. Especially since this phone is so new. Whatever happened to flip phones?’

Danny snickered to himself at the message. Tucker had an ongoing war between new and old technology. While he loved his PDA he also admired some of the top-of-the-line devices. It was like the past and the future mixed in his friend's room. He would gush about the new devices but also gush about the older ones that still had functions that the newer ones lost. But flip phones? That was the only technology he knew that Tucker hated. It was the worst of both worlds for him. He’d been so excited when Danny’s flip phone was bricked by Technus’ virus.

‘I’m going to ignore that you said that.’

‘Also there’s going to be trouble in the park near you tomorrow. I’m already planning on going. Do you want in?’

Scooting up from his lounged position, Danny started to write back his reply.

‘Of course, I’ll be there. Don’t need you to go in alone and join the dead. Unusual for him to leave his plans there though. That’ll be fun to write in the report.’

The image of Jazz reading about that brought a smile to Danny’s face. She always found it interesting when one of the ghosts would change a long-time behavior. The fact that Technus was able to keep this rather on the down low would guarantee her interest. He was always one to blatantly announce his plans to the world to hear. Even though it’s a bit of a pain that he’s learning to keep things to himself it would peak Jazz’s curiosity, which made it bearable.

‘It is weird. And don’t remind me about the report. I still have the one from last week to write and I don’t want to do it.’

That made Danny laugh to himself a little. Last week the lunch lady tried to embrace the Ultra-Recyclo Vegetarian life. In the overflow of food, Tucker had gotten trapped in veggies. He was visibly green from having to eat some to escape. Sam had been excited about it at first before she saw how much food was being wasted. She ended up getting attacked for trying to explain the damage overconsumption and food waste could bring.

‘You looked like you wanted to vomit afterward. Well, at least we are prepared this time. We don’t always get that chance.’

Danny stretched out his stubborn limbs, feeling himself try to sink into the darkness. He’d have to end the conversation sooner rather than later. At this rate, he wouldn’t have a choice on whether he was taking a nap or not. At the familiar sound of bells, he looked back down at the conversation.

‘Unfortunately. Well, I’ll be finished by the time we meet at the park. I know you usually like to sleep after a long night.’

The reply made Danny’s core feel fuzzy with happiness. Tucker always knows him so well. He doesn’t know what he did to get such a fantastic best friend. It was at times like these that Danny knew he was so glad that they were in this together. With two of his best friends at his side, it made being a vigilante so much easier to bear. 

‘Thanks. Remember that not just the dead get to sleep. Don’t push yourself. Goodnight.’

With that, Danny felt comfortable with setting his phone down to get changed into pajamas. It ached on his back to take off his shirt, but Jazz would be disappointed in the morning if he didn’t. She always got that pinched look on her face when he didn’t take care of himself to her standards. Her standards weren’t exactly high up either so it made him feel extra upset when he missed the mark.

Being careful to not lie on his back, Danny got back into his bed. He curled himself into the blankets with a small smile. One last chime of bells rang out in the room, probably from Tucker saying goodnight back. Picking up his phone, he opened up the lock screen and looked at his messages.

Instead of a goodnight, his stomach dropped as he realized a different number messaged him. A very familiar number.

‘Hey dude! I know you had to get a new phone so this is me. Not only did I figure out how it’s spreading, I think I finally found a way to get rid of the virus.’

Practically throwing himself off the bed, Danny got to his feet. Both his back and his mind screamed at him as he looked over the message. He tapped back to the one he’d just been replying to, finding his heart stopping at the string of numbers. One of the area code numbers was a six instead of a nine. He’d been messaging a stranger this entire time.

Looking back at the messages he convinced himself that it was fine. He was vague enough to not be recognized. It wasn’t like this person was from Amity. They won’t recognize the correlation between him and Phantom. Surely the other person wouldn’t take his words at face value. 

Worst comes to worst he can have Tucker take over his phone for a bit and make sure the other person can’t find out who he is. He hadn’t bought the phone or had it under his name in any way, so they could only find out from the conversation alone.

Breathing out a breath of air he kissed his night of sleep goodbye.

‘I’ll be over in a sec Tuck. I think I just made a mistake.’

[cryptenby]

please consider helping us stay housed and take our cats to the vet

hello, it's me again, asking for help. I'm so fucking sorry. you may see another post of mine floating around with notes, but we haven't received more than $30 in nearly 4 weeks.

as i've mentioned before, my partner and i have two cats that we care for and due to our circumstances, neither of them have had updated shots in about two years. one of them has frequent vomiting from eating her food without chewing (as told to us by a vet last time we were able to go), and we would like to check on that and have them both checked out with updated shots.

this is an extremely difficult decision, but we are considering rehoming one of our cats to hopefully reduce the burden on all of us, and ensure they can both receive more regular care. we are also, unfortunately, asking for help staying housed as things aren't super great on that front either. I am currently in a program for software engineering that will end in May and hopefully result in a job but future money won't feed us today. we are hoping to raise $1000 for the estimated costs for shots and vet visits, as well as housing costs.

please consider helping us. I know we've depended on a lot of kindness and I swear we will give it back as soon as we can. all we ask is that if you have it to spare, you consider sharing it with us.

cash & vnmo: torkz428

pypl: torkz

$0/1000

[ozzgin]

So @moonthundersoldier requested a Predator x Reader headcanon and I have to say, I took my time with it as an excuse to watch Prey and whip out my dusty old comics. I‘m a big fan of Alien and Predator and this was my chance to finally try my hand at it! Hopefully it turns out alright.

Various Predators x Predator! Reader Headcanons

Featuring various Yautja types that independently find and court a mysterious reader raised by humans.

Part 1: Meeting

Part 2: Courting

Part 3: Mating

Backstory

The earliest memory you have of your parents consists only of their wide backs as they hastily controlled the ship, looking for a new hunting ground. You were born to a pair of bad bloods that have been exiled by their clan. They were loudly typing in the parameters for the landing, which so far wasn’t looking gracious. Just as the ship brushed against Earth‘s atmosphere, a foreign vessel appeared behind. Judging by the angry growls of your parents, it wasn’t a good thing.

You of course don’t recall any of it, but what followed was a swift battle once the landing jets touched the ground. The second ship opened up without delay and several Predators in stark white armor marched their way out. They were enforcers, dispatched to hunt down criminals such as your parents. As they finished their gruesome task, they noticed the remaining heat radiating from the cockpit. Had they missed a member? Then again, the overall shape was too small for a regular man. One of the officers climbed into the collapsed remains of the ship and spotted you. Troublesome. He nonchalantly grabbed your carrier and walked out, showing the cause of mild concern to the others. The important things such as weapons were to be returned to Yautja Prime, anything else destroyed. So, what were they supposed to do with you?

The answer was found rather quickly, as their helmets notified them of approaching life forms. Most likely wild animals, in which case you would also be taken care of. The suckling of fugitives could hardly integrate back in the clan. This was for the best. So they quickly discarded the remaining wreckage and boarded their vessel once again.

“Oh God, what is that?” a tall man shouts as he approaches your abandoned carrier, holding tight onto the shotgun. “Some sort of creature…Be careful!”

The plump woman with a sunburned face that had followed behind was now just a few inches from you, bending over with genuine curiosity. “Are you serious right now? Put that shotgun down, it’s a baby!” Seemingly unperturbed by your unusual appearance, she picked you up and briefly analyzed your features before lifting your carrier and turning around. “Let’s go, I’m not leaving a child behind. We’ll figure it out.”

Reader’s countryside life

And so you were raised by honest, loving and - most importantly - human farmers. Since you’ve been equipped with proper, superior intelligence, it has been easy for you to acquire the human language. The clicks and growls were slowly replaced with fully articulated words. Save for your reptilian appearance, you are otherwise an authentic member of the family.

You might have the docile, caring behavior of a human, but your predator instincts have not been discarded. You’re taller and stronger than your “relatives”, and the more dangerous labor of guarding or hunting has been in your hands for many years now. The old shotgun now serves as a dusty wall decoration, it could never compete with your claws, speed and ferocity. Your heart remains that of a hunter.

Eventually it becomes a vague gossip within the cities of Yautja Prime that one of their own might be roaming Earth, completely unaware of their roots. A Predator woman, trained by humans. What would the outcome be? Curiosity peaks for certain Predators and they can’t help but wish to see you with their own eyes. Maybe the different backgrounds would provide future younglings with unknown exotic advantages.

Your peaceful life comes to an end when the first of many suitors descends onto the bizarre planet and manages to track you down. The first encounter leaves you speechless: are there more individuals like you out there? You feel relief flushing over you as the knowledge of similar creatures settles in. You weren’t alone, after all. And soon enough you even learn to describe what you’ve always questioned about yourself. You’re a Yautja, a Predator.

Predators meeting the reader

You’ve really caught the feral Predator’s eyes. He has parted ways with modern technology a long time ago and prefers to hunt with minimal tools. He finds your way of surviving very similar to his tribal lifestyle, relying more on strength and agility that have been polished in raw nature. He’s the one that teaches you the native language and tells you about the Homeworld, though he suspects you come from a different hemisphere. He likes to observe the tactics you’ve developed to hunt the animals of this world and shares his own experience and tips with you. He has grown fond of the wilderness on this planet and plans to propose that the two of you build a family away from the needless hassle of cities. If there’s such a thing as a soul mate, then Black Warrior has entrusted him to be yours.

The visit you receive from an elite Predator is not as cozy. He watches you from afar and notices your interactions with the humans. His guide marks them as targets, so why are you acting all chummy with boring prey? They don’t seem to have combat skills and yet you bring them game and offer protection. He refuses to believe that you’ve been in some way enslaved, bringing shame to your kind. He decides to confront you and demand answers. Having learned the language, you explain that this is your clan, the family that raised you. You’re a bit annoyed that this complete stranger is bringing in his hierarchies and social constructs as some sort of universal law. You do not care for his philosophy of power and warn him to be respectful of the customs here. Aha, there it is. Your imposing figure and assertive threats confirm to him you’re a proper Yautja despite the circumstances. His initial frown is replaced by a satisfied expression. Don’t worry, your potential won’t go to waste in this dump of weaklings. He’ll take you home with him and show you the true meaning of a Predator family. Even if he has to fight you a little for it.

This fugitive bad blood has finally found you. He’d known your parents for a long time and heard about their demise, but he never expected they’d leave an offspring behind. He scans your figure with a certain impertinence, pleased by what he sees. Should he kill the humans and capture you as his mate? It’s certainly the most entertaining option. He smugly shows you his trophy belt, bearing the skulls of defeated prey, and asks you if your little creatures deserve a spot. You assume a fighting stance and erratic clicking sounds erupt from his chest, most likely a laugh. You have no tools and you’ve only ever fought…what…little Earth piglets half the size of a Predator Hound? But it’s alright, he wants a feisty mother for his children. Give your best shot.

By far the most challenging admirer has been the Berserker. You can see the similarity between the two of you, but the blood red eyes are unlike all the other Predators you’ve encountered before. Merely seconds after discovering your presence, the creature attempted to dominate you and you had to trash your way out of its grasp. You try to assess the situation but have little time to contemplate before the next attack occurs. He’s heavier and larger than you or the other Predators and as much as you hate to admit, taking him down could prove difficult. What does he want? He thankfully hasn’t redirected his aim towards your family, and if he so desired he may have killed you by now. He retracts his claws and turns to face you once again. He’s mocking you, not even keeping his guard up. But there’s something else in his eyes, a primal urge that sends cold shivers down your spine. He’s going to make you his.

[hubbvrd]

Crush | Joe Burrow

In which Joe asks you how to know if you're in love with someone

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The fresh smell of coffee and sweet pastries hit Joe's nose as he pushed open the woodsy door of his favorite coffee shop.

He quickly slipped into the air-conditioned interior and took a quick but searching look around.

His gaze stopped at his regular table, where he did not discover the person he had hoped for.

For at his regular place sat a mother with her little son, who could not have been more than two years old.

The little boy was sitting in a high chair eating his cake while his mother sat next to him, proudly watching her son as he clumsily shoved his fork into his mouth.

"Excuse me young man, may I?" , an older voice snapped Joe out of his daydreams, bringing Joe back to the here and now.

"Yes, please?" Joe asked kindly as he looked to the older lady who was balancing several coffee mugs on her hand while holding a large café bag in the other.

"Could you maybe..." , she began the sentence, but Joe knew directly what she wanted from him and opened the door for the elderly lady, who thanked the quarterback.

"Do you want me to take something from them and accompany them?" , he asked her politely as he followed her a step outside, but the elderly lady shook her head.

"Oh, thank you very much, but my car is right over there."

Awkwardly, the older lady tried to balance the coffee mugs, which were in a designated position, as she began to rummage in her bag - possibly looking for her car keys.

Without thinking twice, Joe took a step towards the elderly lady to take the coffee mugs from her, so that the lady could look for her keys in peace.

She gave him a quick look of thanks before digging her key out of her pocket and holding it up in the air.

"Found it," she said with a smile, taking the coffee mugs back. "Your girlfriend must be very lucky to have such an attentive man in her life."

Joe raised one eyebrow in confusion, while his gaze continued to rest calmly on the old woman, who put the coffee mugs, which had slipped slightly, back down neatly.

"In fact, there is no one at my side" , Joe said.

"Oh, but then your future girlfriend will have it especially good with you."

The older lady patted Joe's hand briefly as she thanked him again and headed across the street to her car.

If she ever becomes my girlfriend, Joe thought to himself as he turned and made his way back inside the café.

—

"Can I get you anything yet, Joe?" Maxime, the waitress, asked him after he had sat down on one of the tables at the end of the café, where he hopefully remained undiscovered as much as possible.

But he was not too worried about that right now, because it was just early noon and therefore the rush in the café was not too big, so he had to fear that he would not be able to get out of taking pictures and signing autographs.

Because there were actually often one or the other day, on which it remained impossible for him to remain unrecognized.

"Uhm" , he said, pausing as he considered whether he should really order already.

After all, there was still nothing to be seen of y/n far and wide. Probably one of her university classes went on a bit longer again or she was delayed by one of her lecturers.

"I'll wait", he said after a short consideration, because he decided to order only when y/n would be with him.

For he knew how much she hated cold tea. In fact, y/n preferred tea, which Joe could not understand.

After all, how could anyone perk up without coffee?

"Alright. Just let me know if you want to order." , she let him know before turning away and then beginning to attend to other guests.

Joe sat back and reached for his cell phone, which he had placed next to him on the table, to see if y/n might have texted him that she was running late.

But nothing.

Briefly, the quarterback considered calling her. But he decided against it, because he knew that y/n had always kept her appointments and if something had come up, she had canceled.

While Joe waited, he glanced through the large window, which revealed a view of the adjacent park, where all the blooming flowers and shrubs could be seen up to here, bathing the park in a beautiful colorful blob.

Shortly after, his cell phone rang, causing him to wince in shock before he answered without looking to see who was calling him.

"Burrow?"

"Hello my favorite quarterback! I hope you're not waiting too long for me at the coffee shop. I've been delayed by my annoying lecturer! I just got out of college..." , y/n began and Joe listened to her get upset with her lecturer, which made Joe smile.

"Oh man, I think this calls for a large coffee and a raspberry muffin now?" , Joe asked, knowing he had hit the mark.

"Yeah, did you order already?"

Joe heard y/n cross the street as the traffic noise suddenly doubled.

"No not yet, I was going to wait for you. Do you want me to order takeout and meet you there? I think after this stressful college day you could use some fresh air" , as Joe spoke he had gotten up and walked over to the counter, in front of which he joined the small line.

"How do you always know exactly what I need right now?" , he heard y/n sigh contentedly at the other end.

"Um, I guess I'm a good best friend and listener?"

"Okay, okay, okay. Now don't praise yourself too much. I'll see you at the bench in the park in five minutes!"

Before Joe could say anything else back, y/n had already hung up and Joe looked at his lock screen for a few seconds, which showed himself as the background, before it was his turn to order.

—

Searching, Joe looked around again while holding the two mugs in one hand and a small bag containing a raspberry and a blueberry muffin in the other.

Unlike the café, the park was quite crowded, so he let his gaze wander more slowly through the surroundings in order to be able to discover y/n.

Around him, a few people were walking their dogs, and on the small playground that was a bit away from him, a kindergarten group was playing, which seemed to be on an outing.

But he couldn't spot y/n among all the people, so he let out a light sigh and kept his eyes on the path.

With quick steps y/n entered the park and dodged the one or other dog, which romped across the path without a leash.

Her eyes searched the park for Joe, whom she spotted shortly after, standing with his back to her.

She was quite sorry that Joe had been waiting in vain at the café for the last few minutes.

But even though she couldn't help it, since her lecturer, who had gone through the homework assignments with her, had held her up, she felt guilty.

And that's why she hurried to get to her best friend, which is why she almost ran over to him and then snuck the last few feet towards him and covered his eyes.

Joe flinched in fright as it suddenly went dark in front of his eyes and he felt cold hands on his eyes.

But he relaxed immediately as he caught the all-too-familiar scent he had smelled countless times before and given away himself.

"Y/n!" , he said directly and within seconds his hands were removed from his eyes.

"How did you know?" , y/n asked sulkily as Joe turned to face her.

"I smelled your perfume. Maybe next time you should wear something more inconspicuous."

Joe handed y/n her coffee mug, which contained her favorite tea, from which y/n took a big gulp and sighed with pleasure.

This was exactly what she had brought now.

"Hm..." , she murmured as she pressed the still lukewarm cup against her palm and then dropped onto the bench behind her.

"You're unfair, Burrow..." , she mumbled as she reached into the bag and then bit into the raspberry muffin.

"What did I do now?" , Joe asked, eyebrows raised in confusion as he also reached for his muffin and bit into it as well.

"Oh, nothing."

The muffins were still warm, just the way the two liked it best, which is why they hurried to eat the muffins as quickly as possible.

"How was your day?" , she asked Joe and he began to tell her about the elderly lady at the café.

Attentively y/n listened to him while she kept breaking off a piece of the muffin and then shoving it into her mouth.

"And then she said: but then your future girlfriend will have it especially good with you". , Joe finished his narrative, eliciting a giggle from y/n.

"How sweet" , she said, dragging out the word 'sweet' impossibly, causing Joe to roll his eyes.

"But while we're at it, how are things with the women?" , y/n inquired as she wiped the crumbs off her pants and then sat down cross-legged, looking curiously at her best friend.

In doing so, however, she concealed from Joe the fact that she was incredibly fond of the quarterback. If 'fond' wasn't a bit of an understatement, she had actually fallen a little in love with Joe.

But she would never tell him that openly, because she didn't have a good feeling about it.

After all, the two of them were friends and that could or would ever become more, could not happen.

Because that's exactly what the two had sworn to each other a few years ago, so that in the end, in the worst case scenario, their friendship wouldn't break up exactly because of that.

"Uh..." Joe began the sentence, but left it hanging in the air, unfinished.

Joe thought about how he could best get around this answer. But he might not have had a chance with y/n to avoid this question so easily.

Because y/n was a person who didn't make it too easy for other people to simply dodge questions, which is why Joe decided on a counter question.

"How do I know if I have a crush on someone?"

Joe slowly sat back as he buried his trembling fingers in the pocket of his hoodie, swallowed briefly, and then looked everywhere but at y/n.

He tried to ignore his heart, which slowly began to snake faster against his ribs, as best he could.

Stay cool, Burrow, he told himself quietly in his mind, trying to relax a little.

But the fact that y/n next to him remained silent didn't ensure that he succeeded in doing so right now.

So he loosened his gaze from the point he had fixed until just now and looked over at y/n.

Y/n thought for a few seconds about Joe's question and how she could best answer him.

"Well, you can't stop thinking about them, you feel strange when they're around and you want to -" Y/n broke off the sentence when she noticed that Joe was looking at her strangely. Almost staring at her strangely.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" The question slipped quietly from her lips as Joe had come dangerously close to her, so she could hear her heart hammering almost continuously against her ribs, and she suddenly felt quite warm.

"Because...Because I have a crush on you..."

[morphodae]

If that's okay can you please general yandere Robin x fem or gn reader headcanon?

Yandere Headcanons A-Z: Robin (HSR)

a/n: sure thing! sorry for a slight delay; I was focusing on exams 💜

cw: yandere, manipulative themes, codependency

Out of the entire cast of characters (so far), it’s safe to say that Robin would likely be one of the best yanderes to have.

Affection (how do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?)

She's not always around in her busy schedule as a superstar to give all the affection to her darling as she wants, but when she has time then she will make sure to shower you in physical touch, quality time, and gift giving. Her love is intense, passionate, but it wouldn't be noticeable from her normal demeanor.

Blood (How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?)

She truly loathes going this far. In fact, she's a kind and gentle soul. Robin, if she truly felt there was a threat to your safety or the safety of your relationship, then she has connections within the Oak family and her brother to take care of the problem.

Cruelty (How would they threat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?)

Robin is a generally delusional yandere who may initially be lucid, but quickly finds herself drowning in the warm feelings you give her. In her mind, keeping you safe from the dangers of the Dreamscape or even regular Penacony and the rest of the vast and unknown galaxy is her idea of treating you well. Plus, with her connections and money, she will spoil you rotten. She feels no need to mock you. In fact, it may seem like she is babying you.

Darling (Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling's will?)

Nope. Robin thrives on your permission and comfort. Knowing you have her approval, her love, and her presence, is enough for her to respect your boundaries and wishes.

Exposed (How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?)

She's sweet, kind, empathic, and genuinely cares about her fans and those close to her. In fact, it's hard to say if she has boundaries sometimes. She will tell you everything that is going on outside while you are kept locked away and safe.

Fight (How would they feel if their darling fought back?)

Truly sad by your attempts to resist all the love she has to give. She'd pout, give you time and space, while making offhanded comments at how hurtful you're being. You'll come around sooner or later and hopefully feel bad for how you're making her feel :(

Game (Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?)

It isn't a game to her and she'd hate to see you try and escape. It would be hard with how much she's conditioned you and with all her connections. Even Sunday would be watching because you make his sister happy, so he'd want you around to keep her happy.

Hell (What would be their darling's worst experience with them?)

The long periods of isolation that is dealt to your mental health when she's away on tours and performances. Her career doesn't really stop after your abduction and you're starved of human interaction by the time she's finally back.

Ideals (What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?)

Robin is pretty simple. She cherishes each little moment she gets to spend with you. Just the thought of you coming around and reciprocating her affections makes her swoon. One day she's sure that she can make many more happy memories alongside you, perhaps even with her as your wife.

Jealousy (Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?)

As much as she tries not to, Robin can be rather insecure. She has always been passionate, sensitive, and emotional even as a child. So feeling as though she always has to compete or seeing someone steal your attention away causes an ugly feeling to blossom within her. However, I do believe as she grows more confident and the longer she has you around, the more likely she is to brush off any competition. After all, she is a part of the Oak family and a galactic celebrity. She can make sure the other person doesn't have a reason to be around you anymore.

Kisses (How do they act around or with their darling?)

Robin acts like a giddy schoolgirl with a crush around her darling. She will sigh dreamily, sing and hum to you, do your hair, skincare, and overall pamper you. Almost similar to a doll. However, the gentility and softness in her eyes and her touches are true and genuine. She lives for having you around her.

Love letters (How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?)

It would be surprising for anyone that a celebrity would suddenly have interest in you or start approaching you, but it's exactly what Robin does. She's straightforward, sweet, and cute in how she talks to you. She acts like a friend more than a superstar and will start slowly by getting to know everything about you.

Mask (Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?)

There isn't a discernible difference. Of course, in private she's a bit softer, sweeter, clingier, and touchier with you than she would be in any other professional setting or towards anyone else.

Naughty (How would they punish their darling?)

Periods of isolation can mess with a person's mind. She's also intentionally (and unintentionally) an excellent gaslighter. She will make you question your sanity and own feelings regarding her by classically manipulating your perception of her. Once you start to feel bad for your reactions to abduction or lashing out at her, then she knows that everything will fall into place.

Oppression (How many rights would they take away from their darling?)

In the beginning, if you fight her tooth and nail, then she will keep you rather isolated and maybe even tied up. However, because she can't resist spoiling you with an expensive place, luxury products, and the finest clothes, it doesn't last too long before you have limited range around her penthouse. But, you will be watched by Sunday and several people in the Oak family.

Patience (How patient are they with their darling?)

She's rather patient. It takes quite a bit from you for her to get impatient or frustrated and when she does, she typically lets the both of you cool off before doing anything rash.

Quit (If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?)

The chances of you dying or escaping are rather low, but if you were to escape or leave, then I don't see Robin truly getting over it. Her shows may have to be cancelled while she searches for you.

Regret (Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?)

In the beginning, she felt a bit guilty for abducting you but the feelings of warmth and love you gave her quickly overshadowed that guilt into an ugly addiction in which the only cure was more of you.

Tears (How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?)

Oh, she hates it. It makes her heart absolutely shatter into a million pieces. She'll even start crying herself and doing everything she can to get those tears off your lovely face.

Unique (Would they ever do anything different from the classic yandere?)

Again, I think Robin's genuine empathy and kindness and respect towards a darling's boundaries are what set her apart from a "classic" yandere. She's generally appalled by the idea of getting messy or killing someone, but it isn't off the table. It's just one of the last things that would be an option.

Vice (What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?)

Playing into her kindness isn't hard to do and earning her trust is the best chance at eventually escaping. The hard part is gaining the trust of her brother and the rest of the Oak family, as they may not be as easily manipulated as Robin might be.

Wit's end (Would they ever hurt their darling?)

She'd never ever intentionally hurt you. She'd likely hurt you mentally with her isolation and attempts at making you more dependent on her, but anything physical is absolutely off the table.

Xoanon (How much would they revere/worship their darling? To what length would they go to win them over?)

Robin would worship you as much as an Aeon. She would surround you with tons of material items and her gentle touch and kindness. Essentially, she would "love bomb" you with no end in sight.

Yearn (How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?)

It's a slow, gradual process with Robin. She would be attracted to your kindness and humility. It's when you first meet and accept her for who she is and treat her as a normal person rather than an untouchable celebrity is when her obsession with you would truly begin. From there, it'd spiral into an essential need to have you be hers.

Zenith (Would they ever break their darling?)

Not intentionally. But as mentioned previously, isolation and loneliness can do a number on the human psyche. So, while she's empathetic and aware of what her absences can do, she may still use it to punish you. But, she would know the limit in which she can go so that she can prevent you from becoming broken. She wants your soul and aura to remain as lovely and vibrant as ever so that she can continue to sing songs about the two of you. That way, your stories can be cherished for eternity in the halls of Harmony.

[aureatchi]

⋆·˚ ༘* A NIGHT @ A JAZZ BAR! ft. dazai, chuuya, & ranpo!

a/n. i've never been to a jazz clb myself (hopefully in the future <('o'<3) !) but i keep seeing videos of them on my tiktok fyp ‘n i could vividly visualize the snug, intimate atmosphere...i was immediately reminded of these bsd men,, imo the vibe fits them v well !!

info. fem!reader. fluff as chambré as the ambiance. mentions of lots of drinking ‘n reader gets tipsy. to have the full experience i recc. listenening to jazz music while reading! \(^_<)\ wc. 6k (total)

DAZAI :

You needed a break. You had been working yourself morning to evening this past week for extra money—you wanted to make sure you still had a decent amount of savings in your bank account after all the shopping you had done with your friends the previous weekend. Thankfully, your final shift had ended earlier today, so you went home, indulged a nice, hot shower, and decided you should treat yourself for getting through the long week.

You had never been to a jazz bar before, but you thought it would be a fun twist in comparison to a regular bar—which is what you needed anyway. You wanted something to wind yourself down, and some drinks along with incredible music would certainly satisfy the interest.

So here you were, sitting on one of the tall, cushioned barstools as a bartender prepared your first drink. The atmosphere in the bar was cushy and cozy, already relaxing your mind.

“I’ll take what the miss ordered over here,” you heard from the handsome man who sat on the stool next to you, brunette hair covering his eyes.

He noticed your gaze and then turned towards you. “I haven’t seen you before; this your first time?” he asked, a friendly smile on his face.

“Yeah,” you replied, a shy smile in return. “My first time at a jazz club in general.”

“Ooh, how exciting!” he responded in delight. “I hope you’ll like it here.”

The bartender handed your identical drinks.

“What’s your name?” the dark-haired asked. You responded with yours, asking for his in return.

“Osamu Dazai,” Dazai replied with a wink. “Nice to meet you, bella.”

You were initially confused because you had just told him your name, and it wasn’t Bella (unless it was, ignore this!)—maybe he misheard? But he gave you no time to correct him when he raised his glass towards you.

“What brings you here?” he asked. “To try this out for the first time?”

“To celebrate still being alive after working my ass off this entire week,” you replied with a half-hearted laugh.

Dazai chuckled with you. “I could say the same for myself,” he replied, a hint of thoughtfulness in his voice. “Well then! Let’s toast…to being alive!” He raised his glass higher, and you did as well, meeting his in the middle.

Clank!

“And to a new friendship! Or possibly even more…” his grin turned smug as your expression contorted in confusion, and you felt your cheeks warm up.

“…Hey Osamu, we just met,” you responded with your own smirk, playing it off after your initial reaction.

“Just a possibility,” he giggled. “Because your response helped me figure out you were single, anyway! If you weren’t, you would’ve been like, ‘Oh Osamu~ I regret to inform you that I have a boyfriend…'”

“How sly.” You shook your head in amusement.

He simply laughed as you both took a drink of your cocktails.

...

You were on your fourth drink now. You and Dazai had conversed a lot throughout the evening—you had learned his occupation was a detective agent of sorts, and on that topic, he babbled on about how one of his coworkers would always complain about him being lazy and obnoxious.

“Kunikida’s always pissed at me,” Dazai giggled. “But he plays right into my entertainment—I get on his nerves on purpose! Actually, I was supposed to be investigating something this evening…wait ‘till he finds out I was at a bar all night gossiping about him with a fanciable lady!”

You laughed in response, cheeks tinted, while your eyes admired how the ambiance of the balmy-toned light in the room complimented his features. His gaze was soft and his eyes rosed in honey. Meanwhile, brown bangs rested gracefully on his face, while a strand of hair was tucked behind his ear. To further add to the dreamy atmosphere that surrounded you two, the smoothness of the melody in the background—especially with the use of piano, could be compared to a romantic candlelit dinner in itself.

“You’ll be fine slacking off, though, right?” you asked. “Your job seems important, so I wouldn’t want you skipping someth-”

“Don’t worry, bella, I’m more capable than you think,” he replied. “Or at least, you can have my word that I won’t get fired.” He gave you a playful smile.

“You’re so cute, though! Caring for my well-being. Awh, and now you’re smiling. Wait—don’t turn away; you don’t need to be shy!”

You also observed this man was a huge tease, quite literally pointing out your reactions to his flatter out loud the entire night. It was all Dazai’s doing though—how could you not fluster whenever he called you adorable? Especially when he looked as pretty as he was—there was no doubt your new friend was very attractive.

Your face was still turned away from him when you noticed other people in the room start to get up from their seats and move towards an area not crowded with tables and chairs, in front of the band playing the music live.

A new song had begun, and people started to dance with each other.

You turned back to Dazai and were greeted with an outstretched hand toward you as he stood up.

“Mind if I do?” he asked. “You need to experience the dancing too.”

You took his hand with a smile, and then he led you across the floor. “I’ll need help, though, Osamu. I'm not familiar with dancing here.”

“Don’t worry bella! I got you.” He dragged you into the center of the crowd and started guiding your movements—the dance was a fashion of stepping back and forth to the rhythm. His hands clasped around both of yours.

“The most important part is footwork,” Dazai whispered. You turned your head to see other couples and their movements, and you did your best to replicate them. You then focused your gaze to admire the band—seeing instruments such as the saxophone, piano, drums, and clarinet being played. You looked back at Dazai, both of you happy you had gotten the hang of the swing.

He suddenly stepped back at the same time you did, stretching both pairs of arms. He pulled you back in, and with it he let go of one hand and spun you around.

“Here’s one move,” he chuckled as he spun you once more, in the opposite direction. "Let's see how long it takes for you to get dizzy!"

...

The rest of the night was lovely. You danced with Dazai until the songs ended, and then you two had a few more drinks until he realized you had drunk too much.

“Are you fine?” Dazai asked, noticing your flushed cheeks and unfocused gaze.

“Hm? Yes,” you replied, though it was evident you were very tipsy.

“I think that’s enough drinks, hm?”

“Aw,” you replied, swishing around an ice sphere in your glass. In this state of intoxication, you had taken to stop looking at Dazai while he looked at you, because whenever you made eye contact with him now, you couldn’t control hiding being smitten by his charm anymore.

You stole a glance at him this time though, seeing through your peripheral that he wasn’t looking.

“Oh!”

Dazai had noticed your little solitaire’s rules and decided to join in your game too. He immediately caught your look and stared back.

Unconsciously, your chairs had gotten closer throughout the night, and at this point they were touching. Your personal bubbles had eloped, and Dazai was now very close to your face.

Your lips slightly parted, your heart racing in anticipation of what would happen next, a stark contrast to the flow of the slow music. Dazai’s breath on your neck, his eyes on yours, and his attention completely focused on you. The tension was unmistakable, especially when his pupils darted to your mouth—it truly seemed like he was going to kiss you right then.

But then, he pulled back, calling the server, leaving you stupefied.

“I’m paying for Miss too,” Dazai said to the bartender, handing him his card before looking back at you. “You should go home before midnight at least,” he looked at his watch. He then noticed your dismayed expression, and simply laughed.

“I want to get to know you to where I’ll know for certain I can do something like that while you’re in this state first. And you’ll be fine with it when you’re sober again—you’ll even let me do it when you’re sober,” he joked whilst giving you a reassuring smile.

He was so considerate. You were glad and thankful that he was a polite man—you would’ve definitely freaked out once you were sober if you let someone you just met at a bar kiss you.

Because you would’ve definitely let him.

“Okay, Mr. Gentleman,” you replied lightheartedly, but you too smiled to show you were seriously grateful for his self-control when he had an advantage.

After paying, he stood you up and put his beige coat that he hadn’t been using around you. You both walked—or you rather stumbled out into the cool evening air, and you immediately sobered up at the breeze.

“Thank you for keeping me company. My first experience was amazing thanks to you,” you said, merry.

“I thank you as well,” Dazai smiled too. “It was a pleasant night.

“Keep the coat for now. It’s an excuse for us to meet again.” He winked, and you chuckled, nodding your head in agreement.

Dazai then signaled for a taxi to come over to take you home.

He outstretched his arms a bit, an invitation to hug.

“May I?”

Your lips curled upwards, and you wrapped your arms around him too as he embraced you warmly. He gently kissed your forehead.

“Have a lovely night, belladona,” Dazai said as you both pulled back, the taxi vehicle stopping close by you. You realized then that he wasn’t calling you by the name, Bella—just the abbreviation for the romantic endearment he had called you by the entire time.

“You too, goodnight Osamu!” you responded.

…

At home, you went through the pockets of Dazai’s coat to see if he had left anything by accident. You found a small piece of folded paper, and opening it, he had left his phone number for you.

“Give me a call, bella!~”

CHUUYA :

“Almost done, doll?” Chuuya asked as you looked at yourself in the full-body mirror, seeing what your outfit looked like from all angles. You were dressed up—classy black corset top with a frilly skirt, under a matching blazer that belonged to your lover. 

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling when you saw the ginger appear behind you through the reflection, who gently lifted your hair and clasped a ruby-jeweled necklace around you. 

“We look s’good,” he said, looking into the mirror as well after putting on your necklace, both of you posing in your attire. You couldn’t have agreed any more. Chuuya was equally dressed as flamboyantly as you—designer branded black suit and tie with a matching fedora to tie it all together. 

“We’re like fashion icons,” you added, earning a smirk from him. It was always like this whenever you two went out—you and Chuuya would always subliminally earn the title of best dressed in the room, no matter the occasion, no matter how casual or formal the event was. 

“You’re right,” he agreed, planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Well, shall w’go now, mon amour?” Chuuya stepped back, holding out his palm for yours to take. 

You giggled at the extra-ness of the ginger-haired. 

“Lead the way, Chuu. Or what was it…oh! Monsieur Chuuya.” You took his hand as he led you out of your elegant hotel suite. 

Chuuya Nakahara had brought you all the way to Paris. He had gotten a week off from his work—this was seldom; he barely got any breaks from the Port Mafia, so he knew he had to do something special with you while he had more time on his hands. And what better to do than take you to the City of Love? 

Tonight’s evening plans included dinner at an elaborate restaurant—very lavish (usually, a table would have to be reserved about a month in advance, but Chuuya used his PM connections and money to buy you two a spot—you didn’t know this of course). 

Your dinner was delectable. You knew you would be dreaming of the delicious flavors of all seven French courses for days after finishing eating. 

Though, you and Chuuya weren’t tired yet, and it was still pretty early in the night, so you two decided to go to one of the underground jazz bars in the city. The warm, sultry air immediately filled your senses as you ran your fingertips through the texture of the auburn brick walls; the atmosphere of the place complimenting you and Chuuya’s aura perfectly. 

Some people even turned to you both as you made your way across the room, admiring how attractive you two looked together—the way your outfits highlighted your best features and coupled each other’s from the head accessories to the shoes you wore. Chuuya guided you from behind with one of his hands on your waist and wore a smug smile on his face as he noticed the glances. 

“Baby, they’re looking at us,” Chuuya whispered close to your ear, chuckling. “I know they all think we’re hot.” 

“Shh, Chuuya!” you responded in embarrassment, playfully swatting him away, but you too observed the other people in the bar gazing at you. 

You two sat at down at a booth, crimson red velvet cushions decorating the wooden sofa. 

“I’ma get drinks, alright?” he asked and you nodded before Chuuya made his way towards the bar. Meanwhile, you sat and watched the band on stage play. 

You and Chuuya were no strangers to jazz bars. It was an activity that became a statement in your relationship—back in Yokohama, whenever any of you needed destressing or just wanted to go out an evening without any plan, he would take you to one. So it was nice you could finally visit one in Paris, too. This one in particular was less known than others—usually, only a local would be able to find this jewel of a place. All knowledge credited to the expert Chuuya!

You also thought he enamored the vibe so perfectly. The setting of the place radiated of the top mafia executive so well—alluring nature; soulful, captivating music; the sophisticated selection of home-specialty cocktails on the menu—or even better, just the wine. 

Which is of course what Chuuya came back with, in red.

“Now what is this?” you asked, amused. You knew the ginger’s upscale taste in wine—after all, you’ve walked through his entire cellar worth multiple banks at home. You were awestruck, to say the least. 

Chuuya set the bottle down on the table. 

“This is a Pinot Noir. Domaine Georges and Christophe Roumier Musigny Grand Cru 1990,” he pronounced while you stared at what you bet on the Eiffel Tower cost thousands in front of you. “I love this place. Didn’t think they’d have such a good bouquet here.”

“Chuuya! That’s such a long name?!” you responded, jaw-dropped. “Why the hell are these titles so long?”

He simply smirked. “Well, I think this is perfect for the occasion, doll. Do ya know why?”

“Hm…because we’re in France?” you guessed, knowing how most of Chuuya’s favorite wines were imported from the country. Since coming here, he’s tried a lot. 

“Not wrong, but there’s something else,” he continued. 

“You remember Musigny, right?” You nodded, recalling the previous three times Chuuya mentioned a wine from the Le Musigny vineyards while educating you about what he was drinking. 

“The story b’hind this wine involves a Musigny girl who marries a lad in 1924. As a dowry, he receives parts of the Chambolle Musigny vineyards. Then, Domaine Georges and Christophe Roumier were born, and this wine was produced. Kinda romantic, huh?” 

“Awh! Yes, it is,” you replied, smiling. You found it adorable that Chuuya had chosen a wine with some sort of lovey story behind it for this event. 

He smiled back and then opened the bottle, pouring you about a third of the glass of burgundy liquid. 

“Here, nana.”

He sat down beside you after pouring his own glass. You took yours and clanked his glass, seeing a smug smile on his face. 

You sniffed the wine first, a sous-bois—earthy aroma filling your senses, redberries and spices akin. Then you tasted it, intense, grapey flavor on your tongue. 

“Miam!”

…

You and Chuuya had finished the bottle and moved on to other cocktails. And though Chuuya did like liquor on special occasions, he also could not hold it very well. Tipsy yourself, you didn’t realize he too was intoxicated until he randomly jerked you up from the seat. 

“Let’s dance pretty girl,” he said, dragging you across the floor. 

“Wait, hang on Chuu!” you stumbled, trying to find your balance. 

You made it to the middle of the floor where many other people were and joined in with the vitalizing, fast-paced song. You and Chuuya swung around, dancing to your heart’s content. Though your mind was hazy, you made an effort to step in the right places, so you wouldn’t topple Chuuya and both go down. 

Except, it seemed that he was too drunk to focus as well. He had accidentally lingered his foot on the floor too long, causing you to slip when you accidentally moved yours to the same spot. You gasped and fell backward.

An arm swiftly wrapped around your back, though, saving you from hitting the ground. 

“Sorry baby!” Chuuya had snapped out of his fuzziness the moment you tripped, acting fast to stop your fall. Your eyes widened as you looked into his concerned face above.

You realized a few moments later that everyone in the crowd had parted, leaving you and Chuuya in the middle, still in the same position. Unintentionally, he had disguised your slip-up as a dip in dance, and everyone there was impressed! They started clapping as you both remained there, confused looks on your faces. 

But then, Chuuya smiled and pulled you back up into a kiss. He started chuckling as his lips lingered on yours, finding the entire ordeal funny that it had worked out so pleasantly. You smiled too, wrapping your hands around his neck while you heard shouts of “Ouah!” and “Comme c’est romantique!” from spectators. 

Chuuya wasn’t done yet, though. Even the band had stopped playing music to acknowledge this interlude, so Chuuya jumped up on stage headlong without hesitation and took the microphone. 

“This princess right here deserves everything,” Chuuya spoke, eyeing you with a grin, causing you to heat up in embarrassment. “I brought her to Paris ‘cause why shouldn’t someone as lovely as her experience the city of romance? I say I’m one damn lucky man to have her.” 

There was another applaud while you melted in your lover’s broad proclamation of endearment towards you. You almost couldn’t believe it—surely you were just drunk and imagining things; there was no way Chuuya had gotten on stage with the band and started speaking. But the reality of it proved when he jumped back off, and embraced you again. 

“Love you,” he whispered in your ear. 

“Or, the French say ‘Je t’aime.’”

“I love you too,” you giggled back, enjoying the warmth of his hug. 

… 

You were both exhausted by the end of the night, yet Chuuya still carried you bridal-style back to the hotel room. You scrambled to get ready for bed, showering and changing into your pajamas, and in no time, you were both tucked in under the covers. 

“That was fun,” you sleepily said as you wrapped an arm across him. 

“I’m glad it was,” he replied. “You deserve to enjoy every day.”

“I do enjoy everyday because I’m with you, Chuuya. What you said earlier…

“I’m one lucky girl to have you.”

RANPO :

“Ranpo-ohh, c’mon!” you exclaimed as you practically dragged your lover out of the kitchen. 

“Why do we gotta go!?” he whined back, trying to grab another cookie out of the glass jar on the counter. 

“It’s—literally a mission from the President?” you used all your force and pulled Ranpo away before he could latch his hands on the sweets. 

“Why does he gotta send us?” he continued to complain, but fortunately, no longer trying to escape from you. “He always gives me such boring missions…I should be getting much more important cases as the world’s best detective!” 

He ended his exclamation with a hmph! and crossed his arms. You sighed as you looked at his stubborn state, but couldn’t help but smile when you realized he looked kind of…adorable like this.

“Ranpo, your missions are probably so trivial because you’re just that smart! You can figure out the answers and solutions to people’s questions and problems right away, so of course, everything that isn’t some huge, world-threatening issue would be mundane to you!” 

“Yeah, ‘cause humans are stupid,” he responded, but it was evident in his eyes he appreciated your words. You’ve grown to learn this over time—Ranpo absolutely loved praise, tripling in significance when it came from you, but he was too prideful to admit it. You’ve seldom seen him thank other people when they complimented him, but he always made sure you saw it, even if it was in an indirect way…She’s brilliant anyway. She’ll know I cherish it. 

“But! Seriously? A jazz concert? Why couldn’t the President send someone more suitable for that setting? I have no interest in somewhere like that!” 

“Why not?” you asked. “It seems fun! There will be music and dancing and stuff.” 

“I’d rather stay here! There won’t be snacks—probably just drinks! And I don’t like drinking; nothing is sweet enough for me!” He pouted once again.

“Well, the point of the mission won’t be to entertain ourselves anyway. We’re going to find a suspected murderer and possibly stop another murder caused by this one from happening. Therefore, drinking isn’t even important—it should be out of the question. For tonight, anyway.” 

“Fine. Let’s go!” 

“Wait—just a minute! We need to be dressed for the occasion! So we blend in?” 

You found it ironic that the world’s best detective could easily solve any case with a snap of a finger, yet he couldn’t even use the train. His ignorance of things was quite amusing; something such as an event’s dress code had slipped his mind.

“Why, what’s wrong with my outfit?” Ranpo asked. 

“Or do you just want a reason to dress me up?” You could see a slight smirk forming on his lips. 

“Well, I wasn’t lying with what I just said, but yes, picking out an outfit for you would be quite fun…” 

…

You and Ranpo were dressed and ready to go to the event. You had styled him in a cocoa-brown button-up paired with some slacks and yourself in your favorite little black dress. 

“Earth tones fit you the best,” you commented as you admired him in the outfit you put him in. “They compliment your eyes really well.” 

“Really?” he asked as he strode over to a mirror and shoved his face directly in front of it. He opened his viridian eyes, wide, and tried to examine why you thought that by holding up a piece of the fabric to his face.

You giggled as he felt you wrap your hands around his waist, hugging him from behind. 

…

“The murderer is going to be in this large crowd,” you repeated facts that the both of you already knew. “They’ll be unsuspecting—they’ll blend in with everyone else like us.”

You walked through a slim door but were greeted by a vast, lively room of vibes and music. The concert hadn’t started yet, but there was already a sea of people inside conversing with each other and ordering drinks. 

“The murderer may not have bought a ticket,” you said just loud enough for Ranpo to hear after you showed your entry tickets. You scanned the guest list and saw that everyone currently in the room did buy one, casting aside the staff, so you ruled out that everyone there right now could be a suspect. “So that their name wouldn’t be documented here. We should keep watch to see who tries to sneak in.” 

Ranpo nodded. “There are definitely other entrance doors in here, though. There’s probably an emergency exit in another corner of the room, and there is the backstage door.” 

“So they can sneak in through here, bribe the doorman, or sneak in through the other door,” you clarified. “And if not…they would hide among the band performers and enter with them.” 

“Or! They could be one of the band players.” 

“Hm, really?” you asked. “I looked into this band when we first got assigned the mission. It doesn’t seem like any of the members have any dirt or sketchy controversy surrounding them.” 

“Just a possibility! But yeah, any of those three ways would be how the murderer will get in.”  

You nodded in agreement. “I’ll go around to find the other entrance then. We’ll text each other if we see anything; otherwise, we’ll meet back when the concert starts. 

“Okie dokie!” 

… 

Thirty minutes had passed. You had found the back entrance and idled by it to see if anyone would enter, but noone came. You waited for a text from Ranpo, but it didn’t seem like anything suspicious happened on his end either. 

You heard a smooth voice through a microphone that sounded the entire room as the lights dimmed. 

“Welcome. The concert will begin on stage shortly.” 

Taking one last look at the door, you left and made your way to the stage where many other people started to gather. You sifted through the congregation, trying to find the pretty brunette among them. 

“Boo!” 

“Hu-uh?!” You slightly jolted, immediately turning around. You were undoubtedly greeted with a brunette. But instead of Ranpo, you were met with… 

“Dazai?!” 

“Hey-y!”

“What are you doing here? And why are you dressed as a bartender?” 

“Oh!” he replied, taking your hand. “Well, Ranpo was trying to find you, so come with me first.” He led you through the group until you were at the bar area. 

“There you are!” Ranpo shouted, seeing you appear with Dazai. 

Dazai brought you to Ranpo and then went behind the counter. 

“Well, to answer your question, long story short, I got punished. For ‘being lazy’. Kunikida caught me trying to catch a nap on the couch and went and complained to the President. He came in, saw me still there, and decided to punish me by leaving Kunikida to punish me.” You lifted an eyebrow in amusement. 

“So, Kunikida said I’d have to work here for the night. To prove I’m worthwhile doing a job.

“But anyways, drinks?” He glanced at you and Ranpo. 

“No thank you,” you replied. “We’re on a mission right now. There’s a murderer we have to catch tonight.” 

“Oh yes, Ranpo already told me,” he replied, looking at Ranpo. 

“Dazai helped us a little,” Ranpo said. 

He explained that when Ranpo discovered he was here too, he helped by counting everyone in the room after one of the band members announced the concert was about to start. Then, all left was to ask the doorman a question that would tell them how many tickets were sold. If more people were in the room than tickets sold, they would’ve already entered. 

“And since you and I didn’t see them trying to enter through the two doors, that must mean that the murderer came in the third way,” you contemplated. “They would sneak in with the band.” 

“Or again! Be part of the band!” Ranpo exclaimed. 

You sighed while Dazai chuckled in amusement. 

“You don’t believe so?” Dazai asked. 

“I just don’t see how. I mean, there’s no way all the members would have such clean slates if one of them turned out to be the killer.” 

“Or you’re just biased,” Ranpo sparred. “I know you’re really fond of jazz. That’s why you were so excited to go on this mission. You probably don’t want to think one of the jazz musicians could turn out to be a criminal.” 

You frowned. “Ranpo, that’s not the only reason-” 

“Whatever! We need to see how many people bought tickets for here.” He cut you off.

“Alright, I’ll go,” you replied and walked over to the security man at the door you came in from. 

“Hi, I run a blog and I was interested in making an article about my experience here, would you mind if you could answer a question about something?” 

“Of course, I don’t mind,” he replied. 

“I was wondering how many people are here tonight,” you said. “This place seems popular. I was curious to see if the atmosphere makes it seem like there are more people than there are, haha.” 

“If everyone shows up, then there should be one hundred and seven people here,” he replied. 

“Cool, thank you!” 

You walked back over to Ranpo. 

“He said one-hundred-seven,” you told him. 

He and Dazai looked at each other. 

“I counted one-hundred-eight people here,” Dazai said. “Ranpo double-checked, by the way.” 

“Oh,” you said. “So, they did show up with the band.” 

“Let’s go check backstage,” Ranpo said.

…

You two snuck behind the stage with ease, no one paying attention to your trespassing when the band was already playing the third song. Dazai stayed behind; he had been greeted by a pretty woman who wanted a drink and seemed eager to serve her. 

“I don’t see anything odd here,” you said, scanning the room. Luckily it was empty, so you didn’t have to knock out anyone there. 

“Here’s the entrance,” Ranpo pointed to the door. 

“Yeah, so can’t you use ultra-deduction to figure it out now?” you asked, out of leads. There was an extra person in the concert, and they entered through the backstage, but you didn’t know anything else.  

“I told you! They are part of the band! Look, there’s a fingerprint scanner for security,” Ranpo said, pointing to a screen. “If you open the door, the scanner is on the outside. That means only they can enter.” 

“We can’t assume!” you argued back, running to a computer. “I don’t believe it! There’s no way one of them could be the murderer…I—I’ve been a fan of this band for years…” You turned on the computer to see the live recording of the security cameras in the room, one of the screens peering at your back. 

“Are you saying you’re doubting my ability!?” Ranpo clamored childishly.

You ignored him, rewinding the footage to earlier that evening when the jazz members arrived. And to your disappointment, no one else entered throughout the whole timeline until you and Ranpo. 

Is the murderer…really among them? 

“The final song will now begin.” The instruments had lowered in volume, and the same voice spoke in the microphone again, announcing the concert was almost over. 

“Found any other suspect, sweetheart?” Ranpo mocked immaturely. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

“What are you going to do? Jump up on stage and tell everyone one of them is a murderer?” 

“Mhm,” he replied, looking up at their backs. “They’ll all be interrogated, the murders will match up with one of them, and-” 

“There just has to be another explanation! I know we found one thing, but we should at least have more proof than just who entered this room to convict someone! I just think you usually have more reason for your conclusions, Ranpo!” 

He stared at you. It was obvious you and Ranpo were frustrated at each other, but you both fought to not cause a scene or verbally displease one another. 

“…I actually can’t figure it out. I tried but…it’s not giving me an answer. I don’t know why. It’s like, in reality, there’s no murderer here at all!” 

He looked disdained, and you immediately felt concerned. But before you could respond, Dazai walked in the room.

“What are you guys doing?” He pulled you with one arm and Ranpo on his other. “There hasn’t been a murder yet, so shouldn’t you be keeping an eye out for it in the crowd?” You three entered the show again, and you eyed the musicians on stage. 

Which one looks most like a murderer. And how will they murder? Will they bring someone on stage and do it there? Or after the concert ends? Or will they abduct the victim and then kill them?

And then the last song ended. The band thanked everyone for coming, and the audience started to either file out or go to the bar for some final drinks. 

It’s going to happen sometime now! 

You immediately tracked down the musicians, keeping them in your sight, even following them as they went backstage. You hid behind the doorframe so they wouldn’t see you watching them. 

But it seems that one of the members noticed. 

“Hey!” he spoke out, the one who played the saxophone. 

Shoot! Now I’m going to be their victim! 

He walked up towards you, and now you couldn’t escape. 

You didn’t even bother to tell Ranpo what you were doing before you ran off. 

“Hm, are you looking for a signature?” he asked, a friendly smile on his face. Fake friendly, possibly. Inviting and warm. So that you’d fall into his trap. It has to be him. 

“Y-yes!” you replied, trying to conceal your fear. “I’ve been a fan of your group’s music for a few years. I am glad I was able to hear it tonight.” 

“Wow, thank you!” he replied, humbly. “That really means a lot. Here, you can come in and I’ll sign wherever you want.” 

And this is where it happens, huh. You debated stepping inside when suddenly, Ranpo appeared in front of you. 

“Back away from my girlfriend!” 

Hu-uh? 

The musician immediately stepped back, seeing the livid face of your lover as he outstretched an arm in front of you for protection. 

“You’re not murdering [Y/N] next! I won’t let you touch her-” 

“Woah-woah!” A new face popped up in the room as the entire jazz band group looked terrified—“Dazai?”

Dazai ran in between Ranpo and the saxophone player, pulling Ranpo and you back. 

“I sincerely apologize for this matter,” Dazai groveled frantically, almost dramatic. “It seems our friend here has gotten very drunk and is acting impulsively! I’m responsible for both of them, so I’ll be taking them now…” 

…

Dazai dragged you and Ranpo out by the collars to the bar counter. 

“Now what was that about?!” you both asked simultaneously, dumbfounded that Dazai had stopped your confrontation with the murderer and even made up a whole excuse for the suspicion. 

“The fact is there is no murderer here,” Dazai calmly said. “The entire case was a setup.” 

“WHAT?!” 

“The President just wanted you two to relax a little because of how diligently you worked; you solved about two cases a day this week, after all. He thought maybe you’d catch on quickly how this was just a scheme, but-” 

“That’s why I couldn’t figure it out! Because you planned this, Dazai!” Ranpo was pouting with his eyes sealed shut and arms crossed, but you could tell he was also a bit relieved that it was only a silly prank by Dazai instead of it being a case he couldn’t find the true answer to. 

Dazai was one of Ranpo’s countable competitors, after all. His intelligence was almost if not as equal to your lover’s. 

“But the extra person in the room?” you asked. “That was still true unless you also hired the doorman to lie about the number.”

“Oh! Well—oddly, the security hasn’t noticed me yet. I’m not even a worker here. I snuck in!”

“So you’re telling me YOU were the extra person at this concert?!” you and Ranpo screamed. 

“Shh! So loud, you two! So now that this case is solved…drinks?” 

…

“I’m sorry for getting frustrated over you,” you apologized to Ranpo as you two sat on the bar stools. “You weren’t wrong; I was being biased whether this was a true mission or not. I really like this jazz band.” 

“Duh, I know,” Ranpo replied, having one of the sweeter cocktails. Of course he did—you had a massive poster of them on your wall.

“…We can come to their concert the next time they perform. Dazai was mean for watching us get worked up over nothing. The music was pretty cool anyway.” 

He gave you a wide grin. You smiled back, shoving a cookie in his mouth. 

“Saved it. Because I knew the best detective in the world would prevail in the end.” 

“Usually you say ‘solve the case in the end’.” 

“Okay well, technically, this wasn’t a case at all—y’know what, forget it.” 

“I’m just kidding. Thanks. For the cookie.” 

You smiled once more. You knew Ranpo meant more than just the sweets by how his cheeks blushed a soft pink. 

reblogs are cherished. <3

reverie is back and in her bsd era i fear...daz’s hair tucked behind his ear>>. ugh he was so polite here. chuuya ‘n his expensive tastes ‘n his expensive dates mwah! lit researched wine lists ‘n wine etiquette for this. v much got carried away on ranpo...it’s okay he’s the cutest and intelligence bows before him! thoo, he’s so so stubborn.

© AUREATCHI 2023 — no reposts or translations. do not steal.

[greenishghostey]

The Gang's All Here

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Your friends had told you on several occasions that still having stuffed animals on your bed at twenty years old would be a boner killer for your boyfriend. Luckily, your boyfriend made up elves and orcs on the regular. Some stuffed animals weren't gonna scare him off so easily.

Word Count: 4,979 (2,200 of this is the smut, im sorry)

Warnings: 18+ content MDNI, graphic smut, p in v, protected sex, face sitting/riding, enthusiastic pussy eating, fluffy smut, sort of sub!Eddie, extensive dirty talk, this guy cannot shut up ever, established relationship, enthusiastic consent (everyone's having a grand ol' time), a lot of affection, the stuffed animals don't watch, I think that's all please let me know if I missed anything!

Author's Note: Hi everyone, I wrote fluffy filthy again! This came from me seeing one of those Eddie + text post pictures saying, "she let me hit because I was polite to her squishmallows". That is why this exists. Please enjoy because this was so much fun to write! Also, I know that this definitely isn't an original idea, I think I've read fics similar to this but can't think of the exact ones right now. But, I know they're out there. DO NOT REPOST OR EDIT MY WORK

///

Being 20 years old and still living with your parents in the sleepy town of Hawkins wasn’t anything to sniff at. Some people have to work a little after high school before packing up and moving anywhere else. It also helped that you had a boyfriend who was on his third try at senior year. He was a pretty cool reason to stick around your dull hometown. Eddie made it all a bit more colourful. 

You and Eddie had been dating for a few months. You had been friendly in high school, but then he started flirting with you when he came into the grocery store. Eddie was a smooth talker when he wanted to be, and it had worked on you. He had knocked over a candy bar rack at your register but also had cleaned it all up. The sweetheart that he was.

Your relationship was great. It was adorable. It was intimate. It was healthy. You guys were best friends and told each other every little thing, regardless of how insignificant it may seem. Eddie told you about his passion for writing and about his family. You told him about your future plans beyond Hawkins - him hopefully being included - and your past and present knitting projects. He wanted a burgundy hat and scarf set for his birthday. A bobble hat was preferred - he wasn’t sure if those were hard to make, so he wasn’t too picky. 

However, there was one thing that you had kept from Eddie. You had worked pretty hard to hide away this tiny part of yourself whenever he came to your house. Shoving the incriminating objects into a box at the back of your closet, even though it pained you to do so. 

It was embarrassing to be 20 years old and still have a beloved little group of stuffed animals perched on your bed. Well, that’s what your friends had told you anyway. No guy would want to fuck a girl while a fluffy lizard, Reggie, from the Indianapolis zoo, is staring at him. 

In addition to little Reg, there were three others. Woolia, a fleecy sheep that you got on your third birthday. Jules, a light blue dolphin with big shiny eyes. Finally, there was Mimi, a fluffy white unicorn that had been with you since birth. 

The soft animals had been with you through thick and thin for the majority of your life. First days of school, homework meltdowns, the day you figured out what boys were. All of the essential milestones had been witnessed by their little plastic eyes. They were as much your family as your parents were. 

But you couldn’t bring yourself to let Eddie know about them in any capacity. Hiding them away was a tedious task. If Eddie said he would pick you up from work, you’d shove them in the box before you left for your shift. If Eddie stopped by, you’d tell him you had to tidy your room before he could come in. He always laughed and insisted that he would be fine if your room were like a bomb site. He was too modest for his own good, but he still wasn’t seeing your fluffy little secrets.

-

You had just dragged yourself home from a, quite frankly, hellish evening shift. Your shift was supposed to finish at 9, but your manager had bitched at you enough to make you stay for an extra hour. Fridays from 5-8 were discount hours and the time frame when everyone came to buy their weekend booze. Older people were horrendous when their favourite beer brand was out of stock - like you had personally gone to the trouble of buying every pallet of the dishwater piss just to be annoying.

There was some Chinese takeout in the microwave for you since your parents had headed off to their respective night shifts at the hospital. You balanced two boxes - sesame chicken and chow mein - with a can of Pepsi in your arms as you dashed up the stairs to your bedroom. Fresh pyjamas were waiting for you, Eddie had lent you his copy of Fellowship of The Ring, and you were so ready to turn your brain off and-

“Honey, you’re home!” The chipper voice almost made you drop everything. A chill ran down your spine, and, honestly, you felt like you were going to start eroding away into the atmosphere from humiliation. Eddie was lounging on your bed, his waves splayed over your pillows, and soft animals moved carefully to be at his sides - two on each side, making sure no one felt left out. “What you got in the boxes? And can we share?” 

You stood at the foot of your bed, taking in the weirdly domestic image in front of you, “why are you here?” you asked, voice sounding distant. 

Eddie’s brows furrowed, and he began to sit up, “Should’ve asked first, knew I should’ve. Sorry, just thought it would be all romantic and shit, ya know.” He mumbled. Eddie looked very dejected. Had he overstepped a boundary? Did you want your alone time? God, he could be so dumb sometimes when it came to you.

Shaking your head, you moved to put down the takeout boxes and your bag, “No, no. Don’t worry,” you smiled, patting his thigh as you passed him, “just wasn’t expecting to see you all comfortable and cosy there with - with all that.” 

“I am pretty comfy. These lil guys kept me company until you got back.” Eddie beamed, practically melting into your sheets and gesturing to your stuffed animals. Did he like them? He didn’t think it was weird that you still had them. Your expression showed that your mind was running a mile a minute when you really should be starting to relax. He knew that evening shifts were the pits for you. “How come I’ve never met the gang before?” 

“The gang?” You snorted, pulling off your sports jacket and throwing it on your clothes chair, “I just thought it was a little kiddy to still have stuffed animals on my bed. Was worried you’d - I dunno.”

“Worried I’d what? You know who you’re talking to?” Eddie raised his eyebrows, fixing you with a look that made you squirm, “some fluffy little secrets aren’t gonna scare me off, promise.” 

“You sure you don’t think they’re weird?” Your voice wasn’t more than a mumble as you sat down beside him on the bed, “the girls said they’re kind of a boner killer.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, and he started to wriggle his way over to you to lay his head in your lap. When he was in this type of mood - a big softie mood - you had to wonder why you thought he’d care about some stuffed toys. Those thoughts didn’t soothe your anxiety entirely, though; you would need to hear the confirmation from him - potentially in writing, for your own sanity. His big, molasses eyes stared up at you with a determined look. God, he was going to monologue in a minute, and it was going to be correct, and you would feel all mushy.

“I want names, place of origin, and lore if you got any,” Eddie stated, counting on each of his fingers to really hammer in his point and make it clear that he was interested. It warmed your heart in a way you hadn’t felt since your first date with him. Of course, the guy warmed your very soul on a near-daily basis. But when he showed just how much he cared, it made the butterflies in your stomach go haywire. “We’re starting with the sheep. Obviously. Give me the deets.” He picked up Woolia and placed her on his chest, arranging her hooves properly.

You couldn’t fight back the grin that spread from ear to ear. Your fingers gently carded through Eddie’s hair as you introduced him to the ‘gang’ “This is Woolia.”

Eddie barked out a laugh at the name, not in malice but in a combination of pride and pleasant surprise, “I never knew you were so creative, babe.”

“Shut up. Do you want the full run down or not?” You teased, flickering his forehead lightly until he stopped laughing. “As I was saying, I’ve had Woolia since I was 3. My grandma got her for me when she went to Wyoming.”

“A Wyomingite? Christ, it’s a good thing she’s cute.” Eddie grimaced, moving the small sheep from his chest and putting her back in her original place. He was so careful with her - you usually squished her in your sleep and woke up with her under your tailbone. “Green gecko dude next.” 

Reggie was whisked from his spot and placed onto Eddie’s chest, now the introduction stage for your stuffed animals. You had been so concerned about being embarrassed if Eddie ever caught wind of them. Yet here he was, demanding all information on each of them individually.

“This is Reggie, short for Reginald Von Scales II,” you were interrupted by yet another loud chuckle from Eddie. He was having the time of his life - he might have to start asking you to help with character names for this campaign. “Yeah, I’m hilarious, I know. Anyway, I got Reggie when I was eight and went to the big zoo in Indianapolis with my parents. All the stuffed animals in the gift shop were begging to be taken home. My dad said since I was good, I could get anyone I wanted. Reggie was hidden at the back of a shelf, and I knew I had to get him when I saw him.” 

Talking about the origins of these soft creatures was nostalgic and brought a warmness to your body that was relaxing. So many great memories were linked to the toys, and now you’d have a new one with Eddie there.

“Hey, he’s kinda like me! You could’ve had your pick of guys around here, but you chose little ol’ me.” Eddie enthused. He blinked his eyelashes up at you and wiggled his eyebrows - screw Woolia; it was a good thing he was cute. “You got me from the very, very back of the man shelf. Like, you must have been digging for some weird shit to get - well, this.” He gestured to himself.

Your gaze softened. He wasn’t “weird shit”. He wasn’t just any guy. Sure, he was pushed to the back of the line when it came to discussing eligible bachelors around Hawkins, but he was all yours now. That’s all that mattered. “I’ve got specific, immaculate taste, and I’ll be damned if it wasn’t being met.” You stated matter of factly. 

“Aw, you always know how to make a dude swoon.” Eddie sighed dreamily. Christ, he was a mushy idiot. If anyone saw him like this, his reputation would be in the toilet. “Reggie is the running for the favourite. Let’s see what blue boy here can bring to the table.” Eddie made the switch between Reggie and Jules, the extra soft dolphin.

“Jules is just… Jules. Got both boy and girl vibes, if I’m honest.” You explained, shrugging at Eddie, who nodded in understanding, “Got them in a thrift store with my mom when I was five, I think? Another case of a toy sitting on a shelf and me deciding to call forever dibs.” 

A giddy smirk appeared on Eddie’s face, “you’ve got a thing for picking up strays, huh?” He was wiggling his eyebrows again, so you flicked his forehead again. 

“Stop acting like you’re some flea-infested cat. I’ll get mad.” You huffed, trying your best to sound genuinely stern with him, but it definitely didn’t work. You ran your thumb across his knuckles as he started poking Jules’ squishy head. 

Eddie took hold of your offered hand and kissed the back of it, “fine, I’ll quit bad-mouthing your man.”

“Thank you very much. Now, onto Mimi.” 

“I did save the unicorn for last,” You knew that. If there was anything to do with the high fantasy genre, Eddie would be all over it. Even the pretty magic horses. 

“She is the oldest of the bunch. Been perched by those pillows since before I can remember.” You informed, fixing a stray tuft of hair on her bright mane. “My mom has a ton of photos of me carrying her around everywhere.”

Eddie looked at the unicorn toy with a distinct fondness, a soft smile and an even softer gaze.

“What’s got you all smiley?”

“Nothin’, that’s just really sweet, is all. Mimi’s had your back forever.” You didn’t know if you wanted to kiss or smother him with a pillow. He was too fucking adorable when he was like this. 

“I guess she has, yeah.” You breathed, running your fingers through Eddie’s hair again, “What do you think of the gang then?”

“Big, big fan. I think Reg is my favourite. He’s got that underdog vibe going on, which I respect.” Eddie leaned over and tried to give the gecko plush a fist bump with his finger. 

You weren’t sure what came over you. A warmth had been stirring inside you since Eddie put his head on your lap and was polite to your stuffed animals. He listened closely and handled them like they were valuable to him too. The intimacy of this whole situation was not lost on you. If anything, you were far too aware of it. Eddie loved you and your quirks the same way you loved him and his. 

You bit your bottom lip slightly and turned to glance down at the blissful man in your lap.

“C’mere a sec,” Eddie said, leaning up on his elbows. You knew what “c’mere” meant, so you let Eddie place one of his hands on the back of your head, bringing your lips together. The kiss was so sweet. The usual saccharine kisses that the town’s resident satan worshipper was a big fan of laying on you at any opportunity. Eddie’s lips were always soft as his kiss became firmer. 

He pulled away by a hair to sit back against your pillows and guided you to straddle his thighs before diving back into your waiting, wanting mouth. You were hungrier for him now. The warmth in your stomach was being fueled as Eddie ran his hands up your thighs to rest of your ass. Feeling the fat and groaning when you shifted your hips - your ass and thighs drove the poor guy mad, and you loved it.

Your eyes opened slightly to make sure you closed your bedroom door but made contact with Mimi's big, black plastic eyes. Quickly, you pulled away from Eddie with heaving pants. It felt like torture to let him go at that moment. The stiff bulge of his cock pressing into your clothed cunt. Yeah, the gang was going to have to move - and move quickly.

“Wait, wait, Eddie,” You panted, clambering off his lap.

“What? You good? Did I get the wrong hole?” Eddie rambled, sitting up abruptly and looking more than a little frazzled. He was all rosy cheeks and glossy eyes, and he had to ruin it by thinking it’d simulated anal. So charming. 

“No, you’d know if you’d done that, trust me,” You said as you gently placed your plush friends on the carpet, far away from your bed and facing the wall. It wasn’t a comfortable position, but they would have to deal with it while you rode your boyfriend until he screamed.

“Ah. You don’t want an audience, I gotcha,” Eddie nodded, winking at you from his spot on your bed. Satisfied with the gang’s relocation, you turned back to Eddie, pulling off your work shirt and getting to work on your jeans. 

Eddie quickly got the hint and nearly ripped his baseball tee while trying to get it over his head fast enough. His belt was launched somewhere in your room as he opened his arms to welcome you back onto his lap. Your hungry mouth again devoured his in a wet kiss, full of groans and rapid breaths. Eddie made quick work on your bra, having become intimately acquainted with this particular nude one. It was an old faithful that you didn’t want him to see as much as he did, but that’s just how getting naked seemed to go for you both. 

You threw yourself onto the mattress beside Eddie and started to claw at your jeans to get them off. Eddie followed suit as you were both in a tangle of legs and denim, fidgeting desperately to get that glorious skin-to-skin contact. 

Once down to your underwear, you grabbed Eddie’s head and pulled him in so you could lick, kiss and nibble at his pulse point. He really loved it when you got grabby and roughed him up a little. The lack of control over your own strength had his cock twitching in his boxers. 

“Can we do that thing, please?” You sighed, running your fingers up and down Eddie’s chest. Fuck, you were sweating and close to humping your cunt into Eddie’s erection - chasing friction that only he could give you. 

Eddie moaned when your fingertips grazed his nipples, his darkened eyes struggling to say open, “Which one? There’s a couple. We can do anything you want, babe.” You could punch him, kick him or rip his hair out right now and he’d be so cool with it. 

Eddie was finally getting to experience heaven. The god squad of Hawkins would be so jealous of him. You wrapped your legs around his waist and rolled him onto his back with a bounce, pinning him and shooting him a toothy grin. 

“Me riding you. Everywhere. Face, cock. Sound like a plan?” You chirped, wiggling your hips how he liked it. Faking some innocence in the moment was too fun to pass up. Plus, riling Eddie up was a surefire way to make him lose his mind in the best ways. 

Eddie nodded so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, “Amazing idea. God, my lady’s so smart.” He grabbed the backs of your thighs and pulled you towards his head while he shifted his body down the bed. Eating your cunt was one of Eddie’s favourite pastimes, but it was so much better when you rode his face and used him to get yourself off. 

You had forgotten to pull your panties off before straddling your boyfriend’s head. Usually, this would have led to you fiddling and contorting yourself to get them off. 

Not today, though. Eddie just grabbed the lace trim, yanked them to the side, so they bit into your ass cheek and shoved his face into your dripping cunt. 

“Fuck yes, thank you,” Eddie groaned before licking and sucking your clit. He was like a man starved as he groped and massaged your ass, making sure you wouldn’t hold back on him. 

You let your head lull back as your mouth opened in a silent moan, your hips beginning to grind and ride his full lips and hot tongue. The wet, sloppy sounds of Eddie, essentially making out with your hole and clit brought a feral smile to your face. God, he always made you smile so big that your face hurt in the best way. 

Eddie started shaking his head between your legs, his tongue circling your hole before returning to flicking your puffy, needy clit. 

“Still can’t believe you let me do this,” Eddie sighed, saliva and your wet covering his flushed lips, “‘m I making you feel good, sweetheart?” 

Your moans were getting louder and more hoarse as Eddie started to move your hips himself, urging you to use him. You loved when he talked like that - his tongue, his lips, his voice. His mouth was everything. 

“Y-Yes, yes. You really want me to drench your pretty face, huh?” You giggled, sweet sighs of ecstasy huffing from your throat. Eddie whined while his tongue fucked you. “Pretty, pretty boy - fuck, please.”

“Shit - yeah, you taste fucking incredible. Gimme it all, babe, ah fuck.”

Eddie doubled down his efforts. Straining his neck a little to fuck up into you with more force and precision. You were leaking down his chin and making yourself all sticky. A blissful state, full of love and affection. Eddie huffed a laugh on your cunt as he saw the dreamy smirk on your lips. 

Groaning, whining, cursing. You two must have sounded like animals in heat as the springs in your mattress started to bounce and squeak. The room was that familiar warm - cosy, somewhat comfortable sweat and the smell of sex. 

Eddie forced your cunt down more onto his face. He would gladly suffocate right then and there. He needed your cum before you rode him because he knew he wouldn’t last long. Eddie liked the mess; it was filthy and made him feel so alive. But the lady has to finish first, and then you keep going until she nearly rips your damn head off. Eddie got that tip from a magazine one time. 

“Christ, you’re so so good - fuck, Eddie, your mouth!” You growled. You tended to make much deeper sounds when you were close. Eddie felt like he was going to blow his load in his boxers. “Just a little m-more.”

“Uh huh, uh huh,” Eddie chanted wetly, “Please - soak my pretty face.” 

That did it. 

Your hands knotted further into Eddie’s sweaty hair and gripped it like a lifeline as you wailed your release. He always liked when you pulled his hair. It made his eyes roll back in such a beautiful way. That was no different now. Big brown eyes were glazed over as they rolled into Eddie’s skull; you could feel a smug smile on his face. You gave him all of you, just like he wanted. You were the fucking best. 

You moved down Eddie’s torso in panting silence to straddle him again. You couldn’t wait for him to get his boxers off entirely, so you pulled them down enough for his swollen cock to slap against his stomach. It had become a talent of yours to make quick yet effective work of getting a condom on. Eddie fucking you raw was going to be on the table at some point, just not tonight. Too risky.

Fuck, he felt like he was going to scream or melt or just-

There was a distinct, sloppy slap. Followed by two even louder cries of pleasure. You knew that Eddie would slip inside you without any resistance. You needed him too much. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re spoiling me today.” Eddie giggled, staring up at you through heavy lids. “Do I get all this because I was friendly with the gang?” He settled back into your pillows and basked in the warm embrace of your cunt. 

You mewled at the feeling of being so full - it may have sounded shallow, but you loved his cock so goddamn much. “You were just so damn polite to ‘em. It’s hot seeing you be all sweet and caring.” 

“They’re important to you, ‘course I’m gonna be polite.” Eddie laughed. “They’ve taken care of you for ages, and now it’s my job to help out, right?” He smoothed his thumbs across your hips. 

“Eddie…” you sighed, caressing his face. His dreamy, beautiful, smug face. He was just so good to you and to the world. It always hurt that you were one of the few who truly understood that he had a heart of gold, in addition to being a weirdo. But he was your weirdo. “Love ya, Munson.” 

After your tooth-rotting words reached his ears, you started to grind down onto his stiff length. Eddie couldn’t do much, but he groaned in agreement with you. He never knew how good being ridden could feel without any bouncing. Sure, he adored when you bounced on his cock, chasing your high and fueling his, but there was a sensuality to the circle of your hips. The sight of you making his cock massage your g-spot was one he wanted to be tattooed behind his eyelids.

“How you doing down there, sweetheart?” You smiled, alternating between bouncing and swivelling. He had to give him some form of reward, “please soak my face,” that was such a good line. Damn, he was good.

Eddie let out a shaky groan and stared at where his cock disappeared into your cunt. When you called him sweetheart, he didn’t know what to do with himself. The flush that covered his upper body was rosy and fiery. “Fabulous as always.” He chuckled and shot you a bright grin. “I really don’t tell you enough how much I love your pussy. And she loves me.” 

“You’re so weird,” You snorted, running your hands through the sparse hair on his chest. “She’s gonna care really good care you.”

Eddie started to wonder if god finally decided to smile down on him as you started to ride him properly. The wet squelch of fucking filled his ears alongside your beautiful laughs and moans. He could see the slick from your cunt on his throbbing cock as you moved. Watching you in your element, so happy, on top of him, was hypnotic. Eddie would never cease to be mesmerised by you and your body. He began to thrust his hips up to meet your carefully curated rhythm.

Your head fell back, and your jaw swung open when you met at the perfect angle, at the perfect time. “Oh. My god - yeah, yes, Ed-” you called out. You were so happy that both of your parents had taken night shifts.

Eddie’s thrust began more forceful, faster, as he moved to push his feet into your mattress for leverage. He was a sweaty, whining mess under you, but he was still going to try and do a little bit of the work. “Uh huh, use me. Fuck, fucking shit - cum on me again.” He was rambling like a horny maniac, smiling like one too. He was having the time of his life. A pretty lady who loved him and had cute stuffed animals was riding him until he wanted to scream. What more could a dude ask for?

“Don’t stop - don’t stop talking. Fuck.” Yeah, you were losing your mind. Sex with Eddie always came with a satisfaction guarantee, but it was his dirty mouth that sealed the deal for you most of the time. “Does my pussy feel good?”

The harsh slapping of his balls hitting your ass richoted off the walls. Eddie wasn’t going to be lasting much longer by any means. “So - so good. She’s leaking all over me, such a good girl.” 

Now he was just trying to be annoying. It was working very well.

“Am I a good girl too?” You groaned, lightly gripping Eddie’s jaw so he could look you in the eye. The pace of your fucking had reached its peak. How you were still speaking in sentences was a mystery. Eddie was hitting your g-spot at the best angle and slipping deeper inside you every time you slammed your hips down. 

“Yeah, f-fuck. But, you’re a woman too.” Eddie slurred, loving the feeling of you keeping his eyes fixed on you. His left hand moved between you to rub your swollen clit in fast circles. Again, sensuality is what really did it for him. He would call you a good girl until he was blue in the face. But it was the fact that you were a full woman that warmed his blood - and his heart. All soft body, whispy hair everywhere, and markings on your skin showing how you’d grown into the person he got to love. “Mine,” he whined the word like prayer.

“‘M your woman, huh?” This was going to be over soon, but you needed a few more words out of him. “Then you’re my man, all mine.” You leaned down to whisper straight into his ear, followed by a long lick up the column of his throat - tasting the salty sweat dripping off of him.

“Oh, oh god - yeah, ‘m yours, baby.” Eddie grabbed the back of your head and pulled you into a scolding kiss. All tongue and saliva, but neither of you cared. This is always how it went. Right when you were both on the precipice of orgasm, start making out furiously. His cock was pounding into you, trying to mould your puffy walls to the shape of him. Eddie could feel his heart hammering and his eyes rolling back - he was almost there and so were you.

“All. Yours.” Eddie punctuated each word with a hard, impossibly deep thrust. Then he was a goner. Shooting ropes of cum into the condom and moaned like a girl in the porn he watched sometimes. 

You could feel the pulsing heat of him in your stomach. His nimble fingers were still focused on your clit. He always knew how to make you melt. So, melt you did. The world exploded into white, and you screamed into Eddie’s neck as your orgasm shook your body. 

The aftershocks of bliss left you both shaky and panting like you had run a marathon. You had already collapsed on Eddie’s chest as he started rubbing your scalp with his calloused fingers - the added roughness provided a good scratch. Your heart was hammering like his, each keeping pace with the other in the afterglow of that near-religious experience. You snuggled into his touch and trailed your fingers down the bridge of his nose, feeling his beauty and memorising the dips and peaks of his face - for what may have been the hundredth time.

Eddie shifted to catch your wandering hand and covered it in small pecks up to your wrist. “So, you got any more members of the gang to introduce? I’d love an audience with a penguin if I’m being honest.”

[suzukiblu]

Day fifteen of fic NaNoWriMo; obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Kon grins wider, then holds his cup out to him. Specifically, he tilts it so Tim can take a sip instead of just giving it to him. 

Bastard. Bastard-coated bastard with bastard-flavored nougat-y filling and a bastardly ganache coating and bastard sprinkles on top. 

Bastard. 

Tim thinks several more accusing things, then leans over and tries the smoothie. It does taste pretty good, though it’s a little too sweet for him to want to drink the whole cup. Blackberry is definitely more his thing. 

“Not bad,” he says anyway, because it’s not and also goddammit, Kon is still grinning at him. Because again: bastard. Absolute full and complete and entire bastard. 

“Yeah, for the East Coast, at least,” Kon replies with an easy shrug, reclaiming his cup for another sip. Tim does not think about indirect kissing or anything that ridiculously juvenile and middle-school. Not at all. Not even slightly, in fact. “I dunno, the whole thing just reminds me, um . . . like, I didn’t really do the whole ‘childhood’ thing, obviously, but you know that thing where people talk about extra-liking stuff they used to eat when they were kids? Tropical flavors kinda make me feel like that. Comfort food or whatever. I mean, it’s not Loco Moco or musubi, obviously, but . . .” 

Tim blinks, makes a few mental notes, and wonders if there’s a single actually authentic Hawaiian restaurant in Gotham. Maybe? There’s got to be at least a decent food truck or two around, if nothing else. There’s always a food truck. 

He could probably bribe one to come into the city for a day or two, if it comes to it. 

“That makes sense,” he says, since technically Kon’s childhood pretty much was in Hawaii. He refuses to count the stupid fucking cloning tube, because counting the stupid fucking cloning tube is literally too depressing a thought to even contemplate. Fuck the stupid fucking cloning tube. Fuck it sideways. 

Maybe Tim can just bribe a Hawaiian food truck to set up in Kon’s future cul-de-sac once a week or something, once he's conned him into moving into it. Just include it in their usual schedule or something, he doesn’t know. Or at least drop off a regular lunch order for him, maybe. 

Whatever, he’ll work something out. He’s going to be working a lot of things out, at this point; hooking Kon up with a regular supply of his childhood comfort foods is not even an imposition. He doesn’t even know what either Loco Moco or musubi is, but he’ll put them on the list and do his damn research. He'll go to Hawaii and hire a personal chef straight from the source if he has to, at this point. 

“Can I try yours?” Kon asks, grin going sly again. Tim’s head immediately empties out all over again, and he mutely holds his cup out. Kon’s grin widens. 

He leans in and ducks his head and Tim has to deal with how long his eyelashes are and just how pretty his stupid face is and, worse, how pretty his stupid mouth is. 

Fuck’s sake, this is just not fair at all. He knows Kon’s a flirt, obviously, but does he have to actually be good at it? Because Tim is not used to him being good at it, actually! Usually he’s being overbearing and too-eager and weird about it, in fact! 

Tim has the unfortunate thought that maybe Kon always flirts like this and he’s just not seeing it as overbearing or too-eager or weird because it’s focused on him for once, then immediately dismisses said thought as a thought he absolutely cannot allow himself to ever have again. Just–ever. Not for anything. 

Jesus, what is his fucking life right now? 

Kon leans back; licks his lips. Tim dies, kind of. Like, just a little bit. 

Alright, maybe more than a little bit. 

“I like it,” Kon says, grinning at him. Tim tries not to think about how intimately he now knows how Kon’s mouth would taste right now, sharply sweet-sour with blackberry and tropical fruit and all warm and soft and wet and–never mind.

“Want a pretzel too?” he offers in a hopefully normal voice, tipping his head towards the stand. 

“Sure,” Kon says, glancing towards it. “Sounds good, man.” 

“Cool,” Tim says, incredibly awkwardly, and they head over. He orders a regular pretzel because he doesn't know Caroline Hill's pretzel order anymore than he knows her smoothie order, but “regular” isn't going to be interesting enough for Kon to make a note of either way. Possibly he should just be ordering things Tim Drake would, but the flaw in that plan is that Tim Drake isn't thinking very clearly right now and it is currently much, much easier to be in mission-mode than anything else. 

Kon orders a cinnamon-sugar pretzel. Tim wishes the bastard would stop eating things that taste good, but also recognizes that it’s his fault that the bastard's been eating things that taste good. He’s literally the one both suggesting and buying said things for him. 

So Kon’s mouth is about to taste like cinnamon sugar right now because of Tim, which is actually making the fact that Kon’s mouth is about to taste like cinnamon sugar right now infinitely worse. 

Tim pays. They get the pretzels. Kon immediately tears off a bite of his and Tim wishes he had a cover identity that didn't like cinnamon, or at least was allergic to it or diabetic or gluten-intolerant or something. He could use a cover identity like that to fall back on right now. 

“Wanna bite?” Kon offers. 

“I'm good,” Tim says, because he will literally die if he takes him up on that offer right now. Or possibly go criminally insane like fifteen years ahead of schedule, which would be its own problem. He doesn't have enough kryptonite for that yet. “You like it?” 

He doesn’t know why he asked that. Apparently he’s just a glutton for punishment. 

“Yeah,” Kon says, licking sugar off his lips. “It’s good.” 

“Good,” Tim says, then desperately flails for a subject that doesn’t involve the way anything currently in Kon’s mouth tastes. “Do you have a personal phone or just a work one?” 

“Just work, technically. And then, like, I get issued communicators when I need them,” Kon replies, looking puzzled. “Why?” 

Because Cadmus could very easily track and tap and block whatever numbers they wanted on that, Tim doesn’t say. 

“I’m trying to get your number and I don’t want to call you on your work phone,” he says. “That seems weird.” 

“You a little on the shy side, pretty boy?” Kon asks teasingly, flashing him a smirk. Tim does not examine anything about that statement or his own feelings about it. He also does not think about what Kon’s mouth tastes like, though Kon makes that incredibly difficult by immediately taking another bite of pretzel. 

Has Tim mentioned what a bastard he is yet? Because he is a bastard.

“I’m buying you a phone,” he says, deciding if he just acts like it’s a foregone conclusion and some small little thing, Kon’s likelier to not reject the offer. “I cannot mentally deal with the idea of your boss seeing what I text you about on some random weekly report.” 

“You can’t, huh,” Kon says, biting his lip around a grin and shifting in a little bit closer. “Why, Tim? What are you gonna text me about?” 

Tim realizes how that might’ve sounded much too late, but by then it’s too late to rephrase or backtrack, so fuck it: time to commit. 

“Depends on what you text back, I guess,” he says. Kon laughs, then grins at him again. His face is a little red again too. Tim is resigned to having to survive the experience. 

“Well, I guess you’d have my number if you got me a phone, huh,” Kon says. 

“I would, yes,” Tim says. He’s going to have to resist asking Kon to turn on “find my phone”, probably. Or adding any trackers or bugs to it. It’s the Bat instinct, but it’d probably creep Kon out if he caught a “civilian” doing anything like that. And also definitely concern him, what with the “supervillain creep” concerns he was already having. And Tim would have a really hard time paying for Kon’s entire life if Kon decided he was a supervillain before he’s even become a supervillain, so he’d prefer to avoid that outcome. 

He guesses Caroline Hill could give it a shot if Tim Drake can’t pull it off, though. She’d still probably have better chances than him anyway, given Kon’s usual taste in people. 

They eat their pretzels on the way to the electronics store and Tim tries to plot how to convince Kon to let him get him the best possible phone but is incredibly, incredibly distracted by watching him lick cinnamon sugar off his fingers. Tim actually hasn’t seen Kon with his gloves off too many times, come to think of it. Or possibly, like . . . ever. Like, he might’ve actually never seen him with his gloves off before. 

Alright, well, that’s a thing that he hadn’t yet realized and is now going to be completely normal about. 

Definitely normal. Very, very normal. So normal. 

They toss out their empty pretzel wrappers outside the store and Kon licks a little more sugar off the pad of his thumb. Tim wonders if he has any callouses. Probably not, considering the TTK, but who knows. Maybe he trains with it down? Or maybe TTK just doesn’t protect his skin quite that thoroughly. Tim’s never actually seen him get cut or scratched or even bruised, though, so . . . maybe? 

He really has no idea, at this point. 

He supposes he could ask. Tim Drake’s already said he knew about tactile telekinesis and that he did some research, so . . . 

“Does TTK protect you from callouses?” he asks, gesturing at Kon’s hands with his smoothie and a little too curious to repress the question. Kon tilts his head and smirks at him again. 

“You tell me,” he says, then casually reaches over and catches Tim’s free hand in his own. 

Tim had thoughts in his head at some point today, he’s pretty sure, but hell if he knows what any of them were.

[yridenergyridenergy]

Is there a way to know if members are healthy and feeling well? Shinya's last video, he looked really really thin, the voice note on his last blog update felt sick and tired. The tour was very compact, the bus looked uncomfortable (for musicians over 45 years old, I mean, c'mon). They must be resting now, but I feel that their company is exhausting them for the sake of saving/gaining more money. I don't know if it's just me, and I'm worrying for no reason. Does the company even do routine check-ups on their health? Is it reasonable for us as fans to ask this to their management?

Shinya always has a particular voice, but I haven't heard that voice note that you mention. It's no news that Shinya is incredibly skinny, as even h.Naoto's assistant commented that he was the only one that she could wrap the dark tunic on at the smallest holes/size and she seemed surprised.

Traveling and being on a plane in general tends to make people sick, so if he did hit a bad patch, hopefully he is getting better now that he is back in Japan.

For Shinya, I have my own opinion, but at the end of the day, I'll trust that he is a midlife adult who must have at least learned how to manage maintaining that size in a sustainable way.

Nobody on the band has been outspoken about the downsides of touring overseas this year except Kyo, and I'm always baffled by how much Kyo is allowed to complain so publicly about his own management hah. Good for him, and I mean, he's an artist and their primary one when you think about it, so you can't really restrain him much.

It's difficult for me to form an opinion on the management's frugal tendencies when I don't actually see numbers. All I know is that Kyo is able to afford Gucci, expensive toys, etc. and when that impersonator was arrested, from what I understood, he assured us that he wouldn't have ever needed to ask for loans like that. Whatever sacrifices the band is making to apparently make touring abroad profitable at least translates into them being well paid, even if that's just from performing in Japan.

Money also may play only a small role into the decision to have them sleep on a bus and only carry one luggage each. Extra luggage would have to be checked in and could get lost. Checking into hotels, where fans are also staying, presents its own series of issues.

Either way, Kyo had mentioned going to see a doctor in a monthly birthday video on kyo-online (I won't give more details but it was a super minor issue, don't worry) and I think even in another type of content where it sounded more like a regular checkup.

Ultimately, they are adults, they're the main moneymakers fo sun-krad and I'm sure that they would be able to push back against at least future decisions if their health could be jeopardized in the long term. Kyo had mentioned in 2012-2013 that he had warned his management time and time again that the grueling schedule of their tours and shows would grind down his throat, so it was no surprise to him when it became so bad that he needed surgery and the band had to go on a hiatus. I'm sure that everyone learned from that, and Kyo's singing has been spot-on every time I have seen him since 2015 or so.

[whats-9plus10]

Venture Bros.: Radiant is the Blood of the Baboon Heart commentary and extras.

This is what I gathered during my first watch. Hopefully, I'll be able to upload the audio bits like I did for seasons 1-7 eventually! I'll catch all the little details then 💛

Let me get this out of the way. They did not answer the most important question of all.

In the past, Doc and Jackson have said that what they say in the commentary isn't necessarily canon. What is canon is what's in the actual show, not what they explore outside of the show because they're always changing their minds. Sometimes they disagreed while answering questions. Take that as you'd like.

Jonas didn’t abandon The Monarch after the plane crash intentionally. He assumed he died or he ran away before he got there. They hinted that Jonas downed the plane himself.

When asked if Jonas loved Rusty they say he’s a bad person, the villain of the show, and a monster. Jackson thinks he might have been a boy adventurer himself. They compare him to baby boomers forcing their children to live the lives they wanted themselves.

Does Rusty have the other twin killed when only one dies? Jackson says only when they witness the death. He referenced Ice Station Impossible. Brock has done it before.

Ritchie Valens refused to join The Guild and Red Mantle and Dragoon’s (Buddy Holly and The Big Bopper) initiation was to kill him so he wouldn’t tattle.

Doc says the second sons are the ones who succeed in The Guild, not the first sons, because they’re most likely to become evil and that’s why Dean was chosen as The Guild’s successor.

Doc described two episodes he would like to do: 1. "Heads in the water." Which is the heads of characters bobbing in the water after a crash for the entire episode. An all dialog bottle episode. 2. An episode that starts off like a regular Venture Bros episode. Then a henchman dies and everything pivots. 21 calls his wife and says “Real sorry but your husband died in service” (Doc put on his 21 voice here). We then see the wife and daughter (from another marriage) and follow them in their lives.

What is The Monarch's favorite ABBA song? Doc thinks Waterloo and Jackson thinks Take a Chance. They riff as Monarch and Dr. Girlfriend for a few seconds.

Gary's a big Sneaker Pimps fan.

Rusty doesn't have a middle name. If you ask Rusty he'll say the S stands for sexy or science or SUPER science. Rusty’s favorite musical is Starlight Express or RENT (Jackson disagreed). He's never actually watched them but he likes the advertisements.

Brock Frog is the guy that "brings in bagels". A 3rd generation Italian American from "bricklayer stock." He fell out with his dad because he wanted to bring bricks into the future. He teamed up with Professor Vigo Dale, who screwed him out of half of the company after Brick Frog gave him all of his brick ideas.

Mantilla has the ability to make things invisible by touching them but claimed it was teleportation. “It’s all bullshit…and she had money from her past”

Mantilla has been "garbage picking" from The Monarch’s trash, such as Dr. Mrs.'s costume ideas in season 3 that she had thrown away and their wedding invitation.

The guys in the warehouse with Jefferson were all roommates in the 90s.

We would have had a full episode of Force Majeure and Jonas Venture's rivalry.

We would have had another episode of Billy and Colonel Gentleman "John Wicking" after Mischa was found dead right before a doggy costume contest.

Matt Berry was supposed to voice Force Majeure.

Why does The Monarch hate Doc so much? Jackson says “Obviously it (the thought that Debra left him for Rusty) bothers him a little more than he said.”

They called Gary's hair “the popular millennial cut” and made him "half Glen Danzig half Wolverine."

Doc has drunk his own urine multiple times because they pee in bottles in the Astrobase. "Recently".

During the last scene in the movie when everyone is talking, Gary and Hatred were talking about a loofah. Hatred asked Gary "Ah...you use a loofah?". Dr. O was talking about intermittent fasting.

24 made a guest appearance in the "Fan Questions" extra for a few seconds.

They refused to answer the questions about Scare Bear and what Rusty and Billy were doing in the time machine in case they're able to continue the story.

They made a joke about telling people just enough in the commentary to get them excited and want more. (A “joke” haha)

During Prom, Pete and Billy would have studied the Push It video extensively. Pete would’ve entered the dance floor and “boxed it out” to make space. Billy would’ve walked in the circle nonchalantly. Then they would have recreated the entire dance.

[maplebellsmods]

- Amorous Kiss

- Steamy Kiss

- Hug and Suprise Kiss

You can find it under the PieMenu Category, More Kisses.

It took me some months to figure out how to even get animations to play in the game and it's great that I now know how to do it. I am super excited to dive more into custom in-game animations because the game should have more! I don't know how to create good kissing animations yet, so I have talented animators to thank for this.

How Does it Work?

Interaction Examples 👇

It's pretty simple, so far there are four animations that I have added. These animations can work as a first kiss animation. If you do not want your sims to use the regular first kiss animation they can use one of these! But it also works as regular kissing animations.

Known Bugs

The only thing I have noticed so far is if you want to run this animation, try to run it alone without anything else in the queue, that is how it will work best.

I would appreciate reports on any bugs that may arise.

Credits

Many thanks to these animators! Please check them out and their amazing work:

Sovushkaxxx

Казибошка Лори

STUDIOWIXFAUN

Thank you to the pancake1 for their s4animtools this was so life-changing when it came to making animations available in-game!

Requirements?

You need:

XML Injector

The Mood Pack

BG Compatible

Future Plans and Updates

I plan on releasing many more of these. Hopefully with my own animations but also with others. I want to release a bunch of custom animations. I will get better over time.

How to install the mod?

Electronic Arts/The Sims 4/Mods <--- Unzip the file and make sure it's placed in this path.

Download: Here

Public Release Nov 14th

[bekkathyst]

New Shipping Policies / Announcements

This post is going to explain our new procedures for shipping as well as some other announcements! This will apply to both Tumblr sales and the online store.

Shipping Costs: As I've been explaining during the last week or two, we are no longer able to offer free shipping. To avoid having to close our shop for good, we will now be replacing the free shipping we used to offer with a discounted shipping rate. It costs us 25€ (~$27) to send an average-sized parcel to the US, but we will charge a reduced price of $15 per package. In the future, if you order a particularly large amount of items at once from the online store, shipping may be around $20 instead, but that is for extra large items/high quantities only.

EXCEPTIONS: If you have an open box that was started before these changes took place, this will not apply to that box. That box will follow the old rules (free shipping after $60) but, of course, if you are willing/able to pay for shipping, we deeply appreciate it. Any box opened after today will have to follow the new rules.

Open Box System: To get the most for the shipping cost, you may choose to order/pay for items from one sale and ask us to hold them here. That way you can wait until you purchase more from future sales to make the shipping price more worth it for you. You will only pay shipping once, just make sure to let me know you want to keep your box open. Once you're ready, just ask us to ship and we'll combine all your orders into one box to send out to you!

Crystal Sales Moving Forward: I am aiming to have one large crystal sale per month, from now onward. I will announce and start previewing sales about a week beforehand, and I hope to keep to a more regular schedule from now on. I am also going to focus on having these themed sales! And I will most likely be able to offer the personal shopping/mystery boxes from the gem shows like I did last year.

Jewelry: I aim to have a new jewelry collection every two months or so. There will be some other offerings in between, but we will just see what works out! Any jewelry purchase can be combined with crystal sales for open boxes. My next jewelry collection (the BG3 inspired collection) is likely to be released at the end of March!

I just want to keep you all updated so you know what to expect and you can better decide if you want to keep an open box or not. I would also love to take any requests for future crystal sales or even themes you'd like me to try to organize!

Any questions? Please ask away! I am happy to answer.

All in all, if today goes well, we will hopefully be able to come back stronger and build a system that works much better for us than the previous one. I have faith in our little shop :)

Thank you all so much!

[pawjamas]

Hello everyone ♡

As many of you already know, my future permanent housing plan of moving to Tennessee with a friend and her family fell through, and I am homeless.

When they all moved, they took all of my belongings with them - all of my very sentimental, irreplaceable items, all of my furniture, all of it is currently sitting in a storage unit in Tennessee, several states away from me. It is tearing me up from the inside out to not have all my beloved, lifetime worth of things that bring me such great comfort. I have been separated from everything for close to a year now, and now since I will not be moving to Tennessee anymore I want to make a plan to get everything back from these people who left me homeless.

My wife is willing to travel across several states, all the way there to retrieve them - however this will cost an exorbitant amount of money. Currently I have no regular source of income because of my mental and physical disabilities (I am diagnosed with autism and schizophrenia, as well as multiple physical conditions) and I have decided with the recommendation of my wife and friends to make a Gofundme to finally get everything back safely.

These people have strung me along for more than a year now, and I started the very first day of this new year off with getting a sudden text that I no longer have a home with them, and that they were lying to me this entire time. I’m desperate to get my things back both because of how important they are to me, and also so I never have to talk to these horrible people again.

My wife and I figured out the total costs for travel, the large u-haul truck needed to store all my belongings in and drive back here, and a plane ticket for flying to Tennessee from where we live is going to be $1,300 total. The U-haul truck is $1,000, the flight will cost $100, $50 for food, and $150 for gas for the entire 800 miles trip back home.

I’m going to update this post as we hopefully reach this goal. Thank you so much to everyone who supported my previous post, please if this post could be boosted just as much as the other one was that would be very appreciated ❣️❣️

꒰ Links ꒱

✩ Gofundme Link ! ✩

🤎 P*ypal: p*ypal.me/minou

🤎 V*nmo: @ catousel

Direct donations to P*ypal or V*nmo are preferable, as Gofundme unfortunately has fees that take a percentage of d*nations!

⁀➷ Currently we have raised:

꒰ $0 / $1,300 ꒱

[c-is-for-circinate]

But anyway, Stranger Things Steve and Robin story where things are Pretty Bad in Hawkins for a while after season 4, to the tune of regular monster incursions and more bumps and bruises and stitches and possible concussions than generally standard

and maybe six months in, after graduation, as Hawkins has come up with more and more unlikely stories to try and pretend that they're not sitting athwart a rising apocalypse, after Robin has deferred college for a year, if they all even live that long, because she loves Steve with every last corner of her heart and she won't, can't leave him here

and it's been another bumpy week in a string of bumpy weeks, and Steve doesn't have another concussion, thank god, but Mike needed seventeen stitches and Nancy has a new burn scar curling up over her left shoulder--

Robin goes to find Steve somewhere in the middle of the third load of laundry in the house where his parents haven't set foot since the "earthquakes" happened. Where she has her own permanent guest room, but just crawls in with Steve most nights anyway, because she cannot handle going home to face her own parents and their questions and their 'constructive criticism' and their attempts to be helpful any more.

And she just immediately starts pacing, back and forth across the basement while Steve tries to fold yet another fitted sheet that she could definitely be helping him with, and she says,

"So look, I have been having this really crazy idea, and I need you to tell me that it's a crazy idea, and I should just forget it, except that every time I try to think down that path I keep thinking of reasons that it's not a crazy idea, and it's actually a really good idea with very minimal drawbacks, at least in the near or foreseeable future, and if it ever does start to have drawbacks we can just undo it, because Indiana's had a no-fault divorce law since 1973, and all we'd have to do would be filing some paperwork, and you're just looking at me like I'm babbling again."

"Just like it, huh?" Steve asks, eyebrows raised with a little bit of 'really?' and all the affection of his heart, and when she stops, giving him that slightly-desperate look, he adds, "So, who's getting a divorce?"

"Us," Robin says, planting her feet and looking straight at him. "Eventually. Hopefully. Someday."

"Ooookay, kinda worried you're already planning my eventual divorce when I haven't had sex since Vecna showed up," Steve says, still not really sure where this is going but willing to follow the train at least a little farther, and Robin just shakes her head, eyes wide and focused.

"No," she says. "I mean you and me. I think we should get married."

Yeah, that makes about as much sense as anybody's crazy plans these days. Steve misses the days when he would have been too confused to keep up. He's still confused, he just so rarely expects to be anything else any more that it doesn't really make that much of a difference.

"Robin," he says, a whole sentence in one word, and then she's pacing again.

"Look," she says, wringing her hands the way she does when she's actually pretty upset about something. "Look, I know it's a stupid, crazy, stupid idea, and this isn't me coming on to you, you know this isn't me coming on to you, this is actually a really hard and scary thing for me to think about asking, but it's still like fifty times less hard and scary than what we do every week just living in this town and knowing what we know, because one of the things we know about living in this town is how dangerous it is, how many bad things could happen at any time, and-- and-- and--"

"Robin," Steve says again, and puts down the sheet in a heap to get in her path. He doesn't usually cut her off, but when she gets so worked up she runs out of words, that's when it's time to help Robin get back out of her own way. She lowers her hands into his and Steve squeezes them. "Hey. What's going on?"

"I'm scared," Robin says.

"Yeah, me too," Steve agrees, easily, because the sky outside is a hazy sort of blue-green that goes red-purple at night when it's not black, and when rain falls it sometimes leaves streaks of slick grime on everything it touches, and there are bludgeoning weapons and loaded firearms tucked into corners all over this house. He's been scared more on than off since 1983, and he hasn't bothered pretending not know it since '85.

"I'm scared for you," she says. "And I'm scared for me. I'm scared that none of us knew what was up with Nancy at the hospital for two hours the other day, because her mom showed up for Mike and they told her everything and Karen Wheeler hates us."

"Nancy's fine," Steve promises; her left arm's gonna be bandaged for a while, but she can still steady a rifle, and sometimes he thinks that's two-thirds of all Nancy really cares about any more. It's probably close to half of what all any of them have time and space to care about these days, which is a pretty depressing thought. But that's not a forever state of events, right? "She just got a little banged up. She's okay."

"Steve, what happens if you get hurt?" Robin asks. "Like, really hurt? If you get sick, or concussed again, or you need surgery like Max or Eddie, and you're not conscious enough to make your own medical decisions?"

"I don't know, I guess they call my parents, don't get an answer, and then operate anyway," Steve says, blowing it off like he always does. "Robin, I'm fine."

She's shaking her head, though, no, "I've just, I've been thinking, and I've been reading, and you know how hospitals are, it's been happening all over where people get sick and their friends, partners, can't even get in to see them, and families they haven't even talked to in years get to make medical decisions, because they're not married."

And Steve's not exactly smart but he's not completely dumb. Robin leaves absolutely anything that might even suggest she's a lesbian at Steve's house so her parents won't find it at home, which means there's a whole pile of blurry xeroxed zines and pamphlets and gay newsletters on his once-unused bedroom desk, shoved under a Russian-English dictionary, three spiral notebooks, and a book by some guy called Jung-pronounced-Young. Steve isn't really sure where they come from, because they only make maybe one supply run to Indianapolis a week between the whole group of them and Robin doesn't even usually go, but the newsletters keep multiplying. He's glanced at them before. He's heard Robin talk. He knows what she's thinking about.

"That's not what's happening here," Steve says, promises. "You know that's not the same thing. Nobody's getting sick."

"No, just...torn up by demobats, or haunted, or possessed, or who knows what else," Robin says. "Steve, I don't want my parents to be the ones visiting me if I'm in the hospital. I don't want them to be the ones in charge of deciding what happens to me. I don't want to wake up from a coma one day to find out I've been transferred to some hospital in another state because they decided Hawkins was too dangerous and now I never get to see you again."

"So you want me to be the one doing that?" Steve asks, and Robin looks up at him, hands still tight in his, and she says,

"Yes," like it's obvious. Like it's everything.

For one brief, bright-aching moment, Steve lets himself regret. He's not in love with Robin. Not like that, never like that, but -- there was a minute, once, where it could've been, for him. And it never could have been, for her, he knows that, and that's fine, that's great, because Robin still loves him more than anybody else in his entire life has ever loved him. And it is everything, and it's never going to be like that, and probably nobody is ever going to love him like that even half as much as Robin loves him like this.

"Sure," Steve says.

"And -- and look, it's selfish, and it's stupid, and it's terrible and I hate myself for thinking it, but if you die out there, and half of us are basically living in your house, and I know your parents don't want this house but they can't sell it because it's Hawkins and the housing market sucks, and you don't technically own it but it's all tied up in your trust fund, and if we were married that would give us at least the length of a court case to figure out where else to go, and we'd be able to take care of Max, and--"

"Robin, yeah," Steve says. "I'll do it. Sure, let's get married."

"Wait, really?" Steve doesn't know why she sounds so startled when it was her insane idea, unless she really did want to be talked out of it, but if she'd actually wanted to be talked out of it she should've gone to Nancy. Steve's not the guy who talks Robin out of things. He's the guy who talks Robin into her own brilliant ideas and all the things she desperately wants and doesn't think she can have. "Like, really?"

"Yeah, sure, let's go tomorrow," Steve says. It's a Tuesday, the little gremlins'll all be in school and their shift at Family Video doesn't start until five. "Do we need to get, like, a license or something?"

It's not like Steve doesn't get that this is a weird thing to do, and not a thing that most people would do with their platonic lesbian best friends, but honestly...like, Robin hadn't wanted to say it, but Steve knows he's probably more likely to die in the next couple of years than most other people they know. Doesn't matter how much he plays it off, Steve's always going to be there sticking his body between whichever kid or girl or random civilian and the danger of the day. He's not always there, which is how Mike ends up with a gash up his arm that better not be getting infected with Upside Down rot while Karen Wheeler is too busy pretending that Hawkins is still a normal town, how Nancy gets caught in the blowback from a molotov cocktail thrown just a little too short. Sometimes it feels like Steve's blaming himself in the middle of the night for not being there a little more every year. But he tries.

And if it gets him killed, the least he can do is make sure his stupid trust fund goes to Robin instead of back to his fucking parents. He's not dumb enough to think him dying wouldn't wreck at least Robin, at least for a little while, but he has to figure a pile of cash would make it a little better. He doesn't think it would make things worse.

Besides, Steve lets him think for just a second, what if they do actually figure out how to stop Henry Creel and all his Upside Down bullshit? If they find a way out of Hawkins without leaving the kids behind to die, and move on with their lives? Would being super-platonically married to Robin actually be that bad? He could put her through college with that stupid fucking trust fund while she got whatever genius degree she wanted, maybe end up her slacker house husband and fold all the goddamn fitted sheets by himself while she's off at work. Adopt a couple of kids, maybe, if he could talk her into it. Road trip over the summer in that Winnebago.

Not like Robin could marry someone she's actually in love with. He'd make it clear to whatever girlfriend she gets in the future that he's just there as window dressing and live-in laundry service. Not like Steve's ever going to find a girl who loves him half as much as Robin does, who gets it when the nightmares jolt him awake at three in the morning, who'll believe a single thing he says about the waking nightmare that is Hawkins, Indiana.

Really, it just means that Robin can't leave him behind. Which isn't fair to her, maybe, but it's her idea. She'll be the one slapping divorce papers down in front of him if she ever gets tired of it.

"Um, yeah," Robin says, still a little surprised for some fucking reason, but starting to soften into that smile she sometimes gets when they're being sincere, every once in a while. "Yeah, we just need birth certificates and ID, and like ten dollars for the license fee, and we can go right down to the courthouse tomorrow. Be done in time for work."

"Honeymoon at Family Video?" Steve asks, and yeah, maybe it's not the wedding he once would've pictured for himself, but fuck that guy anyway. This is Robin.

"We'll put on Back To The Future and actually watch it this time," Robin says, and she's grinning now, and Steve is starting to grin too, thinking about the bright hazy beautiful parts of a godawful night, the worst best bathroom floor in Indiana, about marrying the who-the-fuck-cares-if-it's-not-actually-romantic love of his life.

"Throw in some popcorn and you've got yourself a deal, Buckley," he says, and Robin lunges forward into him, wrapping her arms around him. Steve's arms fold around her shoulders like she belongs there.

He's almost not even annoyed that they kick over the laundry basket and send the goddamn sheets spilling out over the floor in the process.

[arandomperson5647]

Encanto info from Jared Bush's Q&As

This is a little place where you can find (hopefully) a lot of info Jared has said in his Q&As. This is if you wanna check smth and don't wanna go on a hunt to confirm it since it's been so long. Idk if I got everything, I highly doubt I did, so if you have a piece of info I don't have and have a link to it, I can edit it on. Ngl I'm also kinda doing this for myself cuz I was curious to know everything he's told us. I'll mostly summarize the answer so it isn't longer than it needs to be, but I'll also copy+paste if I'm too lazy.

The info here kinda varies from interesting, to obvious stuff, to potentially pointless but really any of it can be used to do whatever.

Some of the answers he provided aren't concrete solid ("I think __ would happen", "I always thought ___", etc), so take this all with a grain of salt. I'll try to phrase the uncertain ones differently so you know they're not 100% (probably, possibly, might, etc). If the answer he gives is completely up to interpretation, then I won't include it. Some might be repeated cuz I don't feel like looking back to see if he answered the same question twice.

Just to warn you guys before you click "keep reading", this is a LONG post, so if you don't want it fill up your page, don't click it unless you really wanna read everything.

Antonio's Birthday Q&A #2 (5/21/23)

Canon universe:

Dolores never truly believed Bruno was still around. She heard stuff, but everyone told her he was gone, so she thought she was imagining things. "I knew he never left" was her way of saying "I shouldn't have doubted myself."

Antonio was a shy kid and animals are were easier for him to make friends with.

The potteries in Bruno's room were because it was fairly public for people who want visions, so they're probably a nod to that.

When Pedro went to the attackers when he died, he was planning to reason with them.

Luisa's associated with donkeys because they’re beasts of burden and that’s how everyone treated her.

Mirabel has her embroidery because she loves her family, but potentially also because she subconsciously want to make sure the villagers know despite having no gift she is every bit a Madrigal.

Isabela might potentially secretly like Pepa's chaos.

Julieta's really good at hiding her feelings about the pressure of being the town's healer, but she's also a naturally strong person.

There's a reason why Bruno's single but Jared didn't tell us.

Bruno's favorite food is Ajiaco, but potentially also big butt ants.

Julieta probably noticed Mirabel wasn't in the pic at Antonio's ceremony immediately after it was taken, but Mirabel had already left by then.

For a while, Bruno's limit for future seeing was until the fall of Castia, but now it's limitless.

Alma didn't necessarily approve of Agustín at first because he wasn't overly spectacular or confident.

Mirabel and Camilo got along well when they were young, but after Mirabel's ceremony, Camilo felt more pressure to perform and show off.

Even before his gift, Bruno probably worried and wondered about the future, which is what caused his gift.

The Madrigals mostly assumed Bruno had somehow left the Encanto after his disappearance.

The birth of the miracle happened near the turn of the 20th century, and Antonio's ceremony was 50 years later.

The 5th birthdays for the Madrigals is the big one. The others are "regular".

Camilo often annoys Isabela for fun and also because he's a bit envious of her. They're kinda opposite, perfect vs a clown.

The post-movie relationship between Mirabel and Isabela is probably mischevious.

Bruno probably already was breaking from pressure when Isabela was only in single digits.

Alma was loving to all her grandchildren, but sometimes it felt conditional due to her expectations. She wasn't self-aware enough to realize.

Félix can play the tiple, but not shown in the film.

Agustín and Félix probably wore their respective colors before marrying their respective wives. Their colors are also a nod to regionality.

Alma might've seen cracks before Mirabel saw them at Antonio's ceremony (not at the moment tho), giving her a reason to actually believe Mirabel and pray to Pedro.

Based off the book "Mystery in the Rainforest", Dolores and Mariano are engaged and planning a wedding soon.

There is a school in the Encanto, but since it's closed off and was formed in the beginning of the 20th century, new info would cease.

Pedro might've been the one to know sewing and embroidery. He taught it to Alma, who taught Julieta and Mirabel. She probably taught others but Mirabel did it the most.

Bruno's door might've started glowing again during his vision in Antonio's room because Mirabel is making him feel included in the family (and therefore Casita) again.

The Madrigals do have friends groups, just not shown.

Camilo's gift can be tiring. Like an actor playing their part.

Mirabel probably would've had a negative or even traumatic impact from the fall of Castia, mostly due to a near death experience.

The Madrigals have never tested their gifts beyond the Encanto, so it's still a mystery on what happens.

Antonio probably can talk to animals from different countries, not just Colombia.

Camilo sometimes tries to impress everyone with his gift.

Mirabel's birthday became "stressful" ever since her 5th.

Isabela would probably help Antonio decorate his room with crazy plants.

Behind the scenes:

5/21 is Afro-Colombian Day, which is why that's Antonio's bday.

There used to be a deleted scene of Mirabel getting grounded by Casita.

The Guzmans originally had the same number of family members as the Madrigals, and each member was like a doppelgänger of each gifted Madrigal child, except Mirabel, who was represented in the Guzman family by a goat.

There used to be a scene where Camilo's gift goes haywire at night or smth (can't figure out the full pic for this one).

Writers considered early on that Mirabel would want to leave, but they decided that from a character and cultural perspective, leaving her family would have been the absolute worst thing she could imagine.

It's never been established how long the ceremony doors appear before the ceremony, but 9 months has been considered.

Early versions would show that Alma had strict parents. It may or may not be true now, but it would make sense.

Mirabel used to have a gap in her teeth to show her quirkiness, but was removed because they wanted to show it in other ways.

Encanto Disney+ Hollywood Bowl Q&A (12/28/22)

Cannon universe:

Emotions can sometimes affect Bruno's visions.

Camilo often helped take care of babies even before Antonio's birth. He was just naturally good with them.

The stairs in Bruno's room probably grew as he became more distanced, so they probably lessened when Casita came back.

Luisa's favorite sister is probably Mirabel.

Camilo would probably sometimes be happy that Isabela found her true self, while also a bit jealous. It depends on the moment.

The Madrigals' reaction to someone entering the Encanto would probably be chaotic.

As a way to protect them, Alma was always a little strict on her family.

Julieta and Agustín often worried how Mirabel was doing, especially for Antonio's ceremony.

Alma tried to show she loved Mirabel in her own way after her ceremony and before the movie.

Camilo's experience being the only boy in the house for a while was...interesting. Not the easiest.

Pepa and Dolores' gifts have caused some difficulties between the two.

Especially post-movie, Bruno, Agustín and Félix would be a ridiculous trio.

The candle is now gone, but a new miracle took its place.

Félix and Mirabel have a good relationship, especially post-movie.

Isabela's 5th birthday was the first gift ceremony for the grandchildren.

Bruno was probably superstitious before moving in the walls.

Before the house fell, Alma probably wouldn't like Dolores marrying Mariano. After, she'd accept it.

The other Madrigals might have hidden potential in their gifts, much like Isabela did.

The townspeople mostly either put the Madrigals on a high pedestal or see them as equals.

Isa probably had at least one flower she'd intentionally give Mirabel allergies with.

Bruno was probably a bit popular at one point.

Adopted Madrigal kids that were 6+ would probably still get a gift.

Mirabel's near-sighted.

Camilo's probably gotten in trouble for his disguises at times.

Bruno's mostly a rat guy because he's around them the most.

Pepa has a sweet tooth but doesn't let her self have too much due to her weather.

Isabela can grow trees and crops.

There's no definite reason why Isa was the favorite grandchild, but being the eldest didn't help.

When Alma said "the magic is strong, and so are the drinks", she was really trying to get everyone back to the party.

The gifts can tire out the Madrigals if used a lot, sometimes physical pain can occur.

Alma might have siblings, but it's not confirmed.

Behind the scenes:

There used to be a scene of Mirabel getting grounded. Idk if it's the same scene as the previous one mentioned, but the context of the question might suggest otherwise. ("What would've happened to Mirabel if she was found after the dinner?")

There were versions in the end credits of everyone reuniting with Bruno.

There is potential for a Madrigal with OCD, autism, etc, but not yet confirmed.

Triplet's Birthday Q&A (8/17/23)

Cannon universe:

Bruno and the grandkids now watch telenovelas together.

Julieta's favorite food is probably ajiaco.

Mirabel's first word would potentially be "sita" because she loved Casita but couldn't say the full word.

Dolores' room has a lot of soundproofing.

The reason Mirabel seems to interact with Castia the most out of the Madrigals is because she was mostly an outsider, with only Casita to talk to.

Encanto is a hidden place, so simply finding it is near impossible.

There are respected town elders in Encanto, but Alma is considered the founder.

Pedro said something to Alma before he died, potentially in Spanish, but it's not confirmed what.

In terms of personality, Mirabel is the closest to Pedro.

For adoptive kids, Casita may be able to anticipate the arrival of someone new even before the family is consciously aware of it, giving them a new door.

Bruno's a fan of chocolate.

Mirabel loves every color. She has no known favorite.

Julieta got married first between her and Pepa.

Bruno's rats aren't sentient like humans, so Bruno would have to train them to do whatever.

It's possible another Madrigal felt resentment towards Bruno after he left.

Julieta's gift possibly only works with a combo of cooking and giving, but not confirmed.

Bruno learned how to use his gift through practice and invented customs. It was complicated.

Julieta probably needs to know the person's injury before healing it.

The majority of the Madrigals' dominate hands are right. Julieta and Antonio are left handed. Luisa is ambidextrous. It's unsure, but Mirabel is potentially left handed.

Mirabel's favorite food is arepa con queso.

Antonio's favorite snack is nailed rice.

Agustín and Félix have jobs in the town, but not confirmed what.

In a book, it was mentioned that Bruno was the golden child of the family. He probably fell from that position in his late teens.

Agustín's favorite meal from Julieta is chocolate santafereño.

Gifts can possibly be repeated, but not in the same generation.

The refugees/townspeople had brought everything from home they used to start farming when the Encanto formed.

Isabela and Mariano still have a good relationship after the movie. Neither were too wild about the engagement.

The bedrooms can change if their owner wants them to.

The gift ceremonies will now be different without a candle.

Madrigals still do the traditional quinceañera.

The Encanto doesn't have electricity.

Bruno has left the walls a few times for a break.

Isabela will probably keep switching up her outfit now that she can.

Luisa has always felt protective of Mirabel.

Behind the scenes:

Casita used to have shown that it has only 1 bathroom, which was located in the back right corner under Bruno's tower.

There was a deleted scene where Julieta yelled at Alma in front of the entire town after Mirabel went missing.

Julieta is the one singing w/ Mirabel during the "constellations glow/the seasons change in turn" lyric.

There used to be a version of Bruno using water with his vision.

The line said by Mirabel, "Even in our darkest moments there's light where you least expect it" was cut after Lin Manuel Miranda wrote Dos Oruguitas and the emotional thrust of Mirabel’s words needed to evolve to encompass what she’d just learned.

There was a Waiting on a Miracle reprise that was cut because they felt they didn't need it.

The concept of a new door appearing was considered to start with the doorknob.

No one intervened during Alma and Mirabel's argument because the writers felt that it was Mirabel's moment to shine.

VERY early on, Bruno (then known as Oscar) was Mirabel's estranged cousin.

Indestructibility was a gift they wanted to use. It was actually Pepa's original gift.

Dolores' Birthday Q&A (8/31/22)

Cannon universe:

People in Isabela's position wouldn't really have the chance to have authentic relationships because they're hiding their true self. This could potentially apply to Isa herself.

Before Mirabel's ceremony, her family was excited for her. After, the family’s ability to see Mirabel clearly was too obscured by their unhealthy dynamics but were probably unaware of that until Mirabel brought it to light.

Bruno's oversized clothing was by personal preference, potentially because of his awkward nature.

Before Isabela showed up in Bruno's vision, another person was there, who is possibly a young Alma. While not confirmed, it is implied in Jared's answer.

Félix and Agustín already had gifts, just not in a way that others could see.

Isabela lets herself break the rules, so while not confirmed, it's possible she could recreate mythical plants.

The town probably functions like a combination of where everyone came from.

The triplets used to have little meetings in Bruno's room when they were little.

Behind the scenes:

There used to be a scene where Bruno revealed he had a secret elevator in his room.

Agustín's Birthday Q&A (6/19/22)

Cannon universe:

Part of what fuels the miracle is unconditional love. When Mirabel and Isa showed that during What Else can I Do?, it affected the magic.

Julieta often gives people the food they like rather than something random.

For a long time, Isabela was the favorite grandchild for Alma. Before her ceremony, Mirabel was. After Casita's rebuild, many dynamics changed.

Agustín was born in the Encanto, but his family was from a city, so he was raised with the city-vibe.

Luisa's favorite food is bandeja paisa.

Every gift can be affected by emotions in some way.

Casita probably helped Bruno hide, but not confirmed.

If Mirabel and Bruno decided to leave the Encanto after Casita fell, the entire family would've fallen apart.

The only people in the Encanto were the ones who traveled with Alma. They all got there at the same time, no one got in or out.

Behind the scenes:

There used to be an exit for Bruno's wall room behind the family tree, but it wasn't used.

Antonio's Birthday Q&A (5/21/22)

Cannon universe:

Mirabel's canonically 5'2.

Mirabel has good relationships with Pepa and Félix. Félix loves everyone and likes hanging out with pretty much anybody. Pepa is a good tia, she’s just very emotional, but for most of the movie (and her life before) felt she had to bottle her emotions which only made them worse.

Bruno probably doesn't need the sand for visions, but as time went on he added his own superstitions.

The color of the magic in the end changed. It wasn't the color of the candle anymore, but the colors of Mirabel. What that means? No one knows.

Bruno "felt" his vision cave collapsing and investigated. That's how he knew it was destroyed.

Camilo couldn't really hold a form forever because of how tiring it could be.

Mirabel did have a quinceañera.

Casita has a mind of its own with its own emotions. Sometimes it could play pranks on the Madrigals or be too upset to move anything.

Behind the scenes:

Earlier versions had a negative dynamic between Mirabel and Camilo.

The gifts are based off family archetypes. Antonio is a shy kid but opens up to animals.

Random Q&A (3/19/22)

Cannon universe:

The main reason for Mirabel and Isa's falling out was because they couldn’t see the difficulties the other was experiencing, because they were fixated on their own struggles. They were probably closer when they were younger.

Despite being shy, Antonio does have friends in the town.

Due to the triplets' bday being the same day as Pedro's death, it's a mixed day.

Pepa can try to stop natural disasters, but doesn't usually succeed.

Mirabel would sometimes have sleepovers with her sisters when they were younger. There was a deleted scene showing it.

The pink cloud scene in Surface Pressure represents the stuff Luisa wanted to do without the pressure.

Behind the scenes:

Tbh there wasn't any answers that could qualify as behind the scenes sooo... 🤷

Stuff that didn't come from Q&As but is still good info

Madrigal Birthdays (I'm not doing a link for each, just take my word for it lol):

Félix: November 11 (11/11)

Julieta, Pepa, Bruno: October 17 (10/17)

Agustín: June 19 (6/19)

Isabela: August 7 (8/7)

Dolores: August 31 (8/31)

Luisa: November 14 (11/14)

Camilo: December 28 (12/28)

Mirabel: March 6 (3/6)

Antonio: May 21 (5/21)

Madrigal ages:

Alma: 75

Julieta, Pepa, Bruno: 50

Isabela: 21

Dolores: 21

Luisa: 19

Camilo: 15

Mirabel: 15

Antonio: 5

I don't believe the husbands' ages are confirmed, but Félix is confirmed to be a little older than the triplets, while Agustín is a little younger than the triplets.

Julieta is the oldest of the triplets, Pepa in the middle, and Bruno is the baby.