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blessedbucky · 1 day ago

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we tried the world, good god, it wasn't for us! (part 5.2)

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: 10.4k (relatively mild if i do say so myself)

summary: "suguru won't hurt me."

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, canon-typical violence, the blood and gore associated with jjk, introducing the shitty and creepy zen'in clan, it's ANGST, like hurt/no comfort level here

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again, @lexlibrary

author note: PREMATURE DEATH ARC BABY, this is gonna fucking HURT. also i've got a cute lil' banner that i made that i'm trying to use to create a story masterpost but old lady is having issues formatting on shitty tumblr. stay tuned for new looks hopefully.

chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4.1, 4.2, 5.1, AO3

[YEAR THREE]

[PART TWO]

“You look tired, Senpai.”

The voice that breaks the silence of dawn is such a shock that the speed in which you snap your head up and to the side puts a crick in your neck. “Yu?” You subtly clutch at your neck, digging your fingers into the sore spot but feigning rubbing it as to not insult him because you expected Kento to be here, not him. “What has you up so early? You don’t train until a little later, don’t you?”

He blinks owlishly. “You really pay attention to the small things, it’s amazing.”

“Oh. Just like drawing and cursed spirits are my thing, I know martial arts are yours. You’re my friend and I try to remember the things they love.”

Yu perks up, grinning brightly. The morning light is still soft, but you could use your sunglasses right about now when it comes to Yu’s thousand-watt smile. “We’re friends, Senpai?”

“I’d like to think so. You let me use your given name.” You hesitate, suddenly struck by self-consciousness. “Am I wrong?”

“No! I mean, if you consider me a friend then I consider you one, too! I just didn’t want to assume. Who doesn’t dream of being friends with their cool upperclassmen?”

You chuckle softly. “Isn’t Suguru the cool one?”

“You’re cool, too!” You raise a skeptical brow. He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “Okay, Geto is cooler, but you’re the nicest! Don’t tell Ieiri, though, please!” You won’t betray your junior like that, but Shoko definitely would probably appreciate that assessment. “I’d love to be casual enough with everyone to be on given name basis.”

“You definitely could. Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko don’t care about that kind of thing. If they were easily offended, they wouldn’t stick around people as rude as Satoru and I are,” you explain with a little smile.

He drops down next to you on the bench, looking thoughtful. “Maybe when Nanamin and I graduate, I’ll feel comfortable enough to be that familiar with them.” He sighs too loudly to not be dramatic. “I was worried about taking over for Nanamin on this because I know they can look down on people with no sorcery in their family, but I don’t know why I was. I swear that your power works on humans, too. You’re so calming, y’know?”

It was meant to be a joke, you know, but there’s still a brief moment of pure panic. You haven’t been doing that, have you? It’s a question you ask yourself before quickly answering with a resolute no. Definitely not. Just trying to sense someone’s emotions, as unintentional as it was with Satoru, had you struggling. Controlling someone against their will had you on the verge of death with a brain bleed. You’re terrified by how fast your technique is evolving, yes, but it’s not there. Nowhere near there. You doubt it will ever be to the point where you’re passively influencing people.

“I just want to do my best to help,” you confess. Even if it feels like you’re not doing much of that these days.

“So do I!” Yu declares so enthusiastically and loudly that it echoes. He winces at his own volume and flushes. “Sorry,” he quickly apologizes, but you wave it off. You’re used to loud voices because of Satoru. “But y’know, you ignored me when I said that you look really tired.”

Well, you didn’t mean to, but you’re uncomfortable that he’s bringing it back up. “Don’t worry about me. I haven’t been sleeping the greatest, but I’ll be fine.”

“Hmm, are you sure about that?” Suddenly, he becomes uncharacteristically serious. “I know this is hard work. We see the worst of the world. You and me, we understand that our friends can get lost in all that darkness, so we try to stay bright for them. But we can’t do that if we don’t take care of ourselves.” He smiles, then. Softly and fondly. “My mom understood that when I said I wanted to enroll in school here. She wants to hear about my day, no matter how bad what I see is. She wants to help me carry the burden.”

“It’s hard to believe there are non-sorcerer parents who believe in cursed spirits,” you mumble more to yourself than him. “You have an amazing mother, Yu. I’m jealous.”

He preens, as he should. “My dad listens, too!” He blinks, laughs nervously, and then tries to humble himself quickly after. “It took them a while to accept it, though. But when both your children can see these invisible things, it becomes a little harder to deny. I think they still were kinda in denial until Sensei came and confirmed it all.”

“Still…the fact that they’re willing to hear the details…”

“My mom told me that she tells herself that it’s like I’m going to school to become a medical examiner. Eh, my dad was a real delinquent in high school before he got his act together. He was in a gang. It’s not as bad as what I see, but he can handle the nastier things that I can’t hold in anymore.”

As the manager pulls up to the curb, here to pick you both up for the trip to the Zen’in compound, Yu passes you one of the three onigiri he brought with him. He stands up, interrupting your incoming protest, and grins down at you. “Don’t worry! I know you forget to eat in the mornings a lot, so I made an extra! Just like I know you’re tired but won’t lean on my shoulder unless I say it’s okay!”

One day, you hope that you can meet Yu’s parents, only to tell them how great a job they did in raising a son.

As you’ve come to learn about these long-established clans, they meet you with open hostility. To them, you are not only an outsider, but an extension of headquarters’ will. Despite the fact that there is a Kamo and Zen’in on the council, they are bound by Tengen’s authority. Gakuganji confirmed, after reprimanding you on your manners with the Kamo, that Tengen was the one who wanted to test your abilities. At some point, when you’re done with the Zen’in, he’ll want to meet with you. It’s a terrifying prospect.

Anyway, the leader of the Zen’in clan is not the higher-up that you’d been speaking with. The man that briefly shows his face to you and Yu is graying, has an insanely weirdly styled mustache, and holds a gourd while stinking of alcohol. He passes out as soon as he sprawls out across from you two. Yu is the one to go try and find someone to talk to since the leader—Naobito, the manager told you—is snoring away.

Two people soon walk into the room, followed by Yu. You’ve never seen Yu have to force a smile before, but there’s a first time for everything. You’ve always been under the belief that Yu is an excellent judge of character, so when he finds it hard to like someone, your hackles are immediately raised. Then again, the horror stories that you’ve heard about this clan, you didn’t really need Yu’s opinion, anyway.

A middle-aged man briefly glances at Naobito with a disgusted curl of the lip before turning his terrifying gaze on you. The sclera of his eyes is pitch black. You refuse to even try to make eye contact. They’d probably appreciate that, anyway, since they think a woman’s place is beneath a man. The other person with him is someone that’s actually close to your age. His hair is dyed blonde at the top of his head while his roots are a dark, dark green.

“I am Zen’in Ogi, younger brother of Naobito,” the older man introduces with no small amount of loathing. “Naoya—”

The one that’s your age—Naoya—hasn’t stopped moving toward you. When he’s directly in front of you, he tilts his head to the side, scrutinizing you. “You should smile more.”

You tilt to the side, focusing on Ogi. “Thank you for hosting us.”

“Oi.” Naoya nudges you with his tabi. It takes everything in you not to lash out or flinch away. You know a bully when you see one and they revel in seeing that their antics are affecting their target. “I’m next in line for head of the clan, y’know. You should be talking to me about this stuff.”

“You’re not of age yet.” You are a child, you’re silently saying. This is an assumption, of course, but Satoru did mention there being someone in the Zen’in clan that bothers him at the annual Big Three meetup. It’s supposedly to keep the peace, but it’s just a way to show off the next generation’s strength, Satoru says. A pissing contest. “You’re more than welcome to sit and listen as I speak with Mister Ogi.”

“You don’t need to be such a bitch,” Naoya scolds haughtily. “Especially when I’ll be the one escorting you around.”

You haven’t looked away from Ogi. You watch his cheek twitch, as if he’s holding back from laughing. Clan dynamics are just so…odd. To enjoy the embarrassment of another simply because you’re not next in line. Maybe you should’ve simply smiled and played along because Ogi will probably stick Naoya with you to keep up the flustering of his nephew.

Trying to dodge a day with this spoiled brat, you politely inform Ogi, “I would be more than happy to wait if you’re both too busy.”

“Seeing as Naobito is…indisposed—” is that what they’re calling being blackout drunk? “We have nothing pressing anymore, so Naoya can see to you. It would do him good to revisit our cursed object collection seeing as it’ll be his to worry about when he’s clan head.” Ogi pulls something out of his yukata. A key. “Naoya, keep them away from the Disciplinary Pit. You’re responsible for their safety. We can’t have any incidents potentially impacting our seat at headquarters.”

Naoya scoffs unhappily.

It might be the only time that you’ll ever agree with this brat.

Zen’in Naoya is insistent on pestering you.

To your great misfortune, no one educated Naoya on the purpose of your visit. So, he uses that as an opening to throw question after question at you while peppering in his annoying commentary. As much as you care for Yu, if he asks to go to lunch after this, you might actually cry. You’ve been here a little over an hour and have a headache. You’re teetering on the verge of losing your temper and getting yourself in trouble.

“Why are a couple of students here, anyway?”

“To examine the seals of your cursed objects and strengthen them if they’re too weak.”

“What? Are you training to be one of those managers or whatever?” Naoya laughs obnoxiously. “Gross.”

“I’m a sorcerer,” you correct.

“One of the strongest at school!” Yu adds on your behalf.

Naoya, in front of you both as he leads you across the compound, glances over his shoulder to eye you skeptically. If their clan looks down so harshly on women, it wouldn’t be that far a stretch to assume that he doesn’t think your capable of strength. “What kind of technique do you have?”

“Pacification and control, to an extent,” you answer.

He raises a brow. “Like that Geto guy that got assigned Special Grade with Gojo?”

The mention of Satoru and Suguru makes you bristle, of course. It’s a protective instinct, you guess. “No. I can hide myself from cursed spirits. I keep them calm. If they’re weak enough, I can suggest things to them.” Before he can ask, you go ahead and answer what you expect his next question will be. “Headquarters considers me an expert on cursed spirits. They thought it would be beneficial for me to also learn about seals. I’m here on their orders.”

“Sounds like you’re a knockoff of that Geto kid, then.”

The jab has you gritting your teeth.

You have to admit, that’s a new insult. People have accused you of holding him back, being an annoying burr in his side that just won’t leave. No one has ever said that you’re a weaker version of him, though. You’re not sure why it’s slowly starting to get under your skin. Maybe it’s an insult to your usefulness—something that you’re already incredibly insecure about. And you hate that you’re genuinely thinking about this now.

“Are we almost there?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Naoya is, blessedly, silent for the rest of the trek. You reach the end of the dark staircase that you assumed was to take you underground. It’s a large stone chamber with tile flooring. As soon as you step fully into the room, a massive wave of cursed energy washes over you. Yu freezes, breath hitching, eyes widening. It’s not that intimidating, is it? There’s quite the number of spirits somewhere down here, yes, but they’re all Grade 2 or lower.

You’re honestly more irritated than anything by the sheer arrogance and stupidity of this clan. “You have cursed objects…near all these cursed spirits?” The chamber diverges. Ahead, there is a giant room that has ropes across the opening. Ropes, you note, that have weak seals attached to them.

Naoya waves you off. “They won’t break through that seal.”

“Having cursed objects so close only makes them more agitated,” you educate, though you know that he’s probably already aware of that fact. “The more agitated they are, the more they batter against that barrier and weaken it. Why do you even have spirits on your compound?”

He sticks a finger in his ear, as if your nagging is nothing but an itch in his ear. “Didn’t you hear my uncle? It’s a pit for training and discipline. We like agitating them, obviously. That makes the pit more effective.”

The Kamo and Gojo had their own collection of spirits. Most people from the clans aren’t like Satoru. Homeschooling in Japan isn’t allowed until high school, so there’s a special private school that’s in the know of jujutsu and works with the headquarters and the government. That school in Kyoto is where most children of the clans go until high school where they head back to their clans to be trained intensely.

Still, the spirits that the Kamo and Gojo had weren’t nearly as strong. Satoru said that the people in his clan go out in the field to find the strong spirits because they understand that there are vulnerable people on their compounds. How they feel about those vulnerable people might horrify you, but they aren’t actively putting the lives of everyone in their compounds in danger every single second like the Zen’in clan is.

What the hell is wrong with these people?

“I’ll be reinforcing those seals, too,” you force out through gritted teeth.

Naoya simply shrugs before heading in the opposite direction of the pit where there’s a hall. At the end of it is a massive door, a bunch of seals lining the door that’s locked with a basic chain and padlock. Is jujutsu society built on nothing but a crumbling infrastructure? Are they all so arrogant and complacent that they assume it’ll all be fine until it’s just not anymore? Then again, why wouldn’t they be when they have bodies to throw at their problems?

What are you even doing here anymore?

Increasingly more and more, you wonder what would’ve happened to you if you stayed behind in the village. Who knows how long you’d be under the thumb of your overprotective yet distant mother and bitter father. You’d fumble your way through some job in the town or a nearby one, too poor for college and probably getting talked out of it by your mother, anyway. Which would be a better life? It seems like both paths leads to you being a simple cog in a broken machine.

“Here, Senpai,” Yu whispers as he passes you the cage with the fly heads. “I think it might be better for me to wait outside.”

“No.” You glare at Naoya. “It’s safer to be in here.”

Naoya rolls his eyes. “Calm down. It’s not that big a deal. Besides, if you were a competent sorcerer, you could easily handle all those spirits by yourself.”

“Would you like to keep watch, then?”

He sniffs. “No thanks. I want to see what you can do.”

“I work better in silence.”

Naoya smiles beatifically. “I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”

Seeing as this is his home, there’s nothing you can do about his presence. This is seriously throwing off the routine you’ve created with this assignment which only aggravates you further. But you move your focus to watching the fly heads, gauging their reactions as you walk amongst the shelves, holding the cage to each object. You’re even irritated with the fly heads, impatient at their slow reaction times when you already know which seals are weakest.

Naoya, shockingly, is relatively quiet. But, because he’s insistent on being a pest, he hangs over your shoulder. Yu is a good friend, knowing how you work, and stands back by the door. There aren’t many objects that require a fresh seal—less than the Kamo and Gojo which is as much credit as you’ll give this clan. If you had to guess as to why that is, they have more people in their clan so there are more people to assign this task. After all, this is a super traditional clan that believes in…sowing their oats as much as humanly possible.

The biggest task today will be that rope along the pit. If you’re honest, you want to be stubborn and ignore it. You don’t want to fuel this barbaric practice. If you don’t, though, the seal will continue to degrade. Your pettiness could cost many lives if these spirits ever escaped. You could leave it to the clan. Write a scathing review of what you saw. You doubt the higher-ups will do much about it, though. The Zen’in would probably call it an exercise and just let it break.

“Mind if I give you a piece of advice?” Naoya drawls as you’re scribbling some notes for your final report to hand in to the higher-ups. You ignore him because he’ll give you his advice whether you want it or not. Some people just love the sound of their own voice. “If you want a man, you need to smile more.” You pointedly deepen your frown. Yu hides his laugh behind a cough. Naoya flushes in chagrin. “What’s your problem with me, huh? I’m trying to give you advice.”

“Marriage is not a priority for me. I’m too young for that.”

“Oh, c’mon. Marriage is the only thing normal girls are thinking about for all their lives.”

“Yes, because sorcerers are such normal people.” You can’t help the sarcasm now. Your patience has finally been pushed to the limit. “So, again, that is not a priority for me right now or in the foreseeable future.”

He hums. “Maybe you should think harder about it. You never know when an offer for marriage might come your way. You’re sort of plain, sure, and you definitely have no pedigree. Still, you have a decent ability. Like I said, Geto Suguru knockoff. Our clan is always looking for fresh talent to be passed along to the next generation when it comes to women.”

The thought of marrying into this clan makes you gag. You do it right in front of Naoya’s face, unable to control yourself, and he sputters in outrage. Yu immediately leaps into action, putting himself between you and Naoya.

With his back to you, he faces Naoya with squared shoulders and a voice that’s low and dangerous. “Stop criticizing my senpai.”

Naoya’s feet spread slightly, as if preparing to take a battle stance. “Oh? What are you gonna do about it, peasant?” Peasant? A lame insult. Are you in the Heian era or what? “You look like you’ve got nothing going on in that head of yours, so let me lay it out for you and your senpai in simple terms. It’s the highest honor to even be a consideration in the running of the next Zen’in clan head’s wife.”

Him? Naoya was suggesting a proposal from him? Oh, you feel nauseous. You feel so disturbed that the fly heads fluttering around in the cage come to a dead stop and watch you intently, having been unintentionally put under your influence. Right. So, you should calm down. Seems like an enormous task at the moment. Just a little longer, you desperately remind yourself. You’ll say your piece to Naoya and move on.

You gently nudge Yu out of the way so that Naoya can see the radiance and superiority in your smile. Suguru would be proud if he saw it. “I was under the impression that the jujutsu world prized strength above all else. Was that wrong?” You tilt your head, mocking in your curiosity. “There would be more honor in being Gojo Satoru’s whore than there would ever be in becoming the wife of a Zen’in.”

It has the desired effect. You imagine that heads and heirs of the Kamo and Zen’in clans have quite the complex when it comes to Satoru who, for all intents and purposes, carries the Gojo clan on his back. One could argue the entire jujutsu world, but that’s a conversation for another time.

Naoya, with his face red and twisted into an ugly snarl and ears practically blowing steam, is interrupted before he can start throwing a temper tantrum.

A scream.

No, two of them.

Both you and Yu are on the move immediately, leaving behind Naoya’s shouted, “Oi!”

There are children down here. Two little girls from the sound of it. You can hear them begging for their father. Even worse, they must be non-sorcerer children because you only feel the muted presence of all those cursed spirits in the pit, Yu, Naoya, and someone else. It’s that man, Ogi. Thank goodness that someone has a heart or some sense, at least. He must be coming to get the children that ran down here. You’ll still rush to help, of course. You can calm the spirits down—

As you break away from the hallway, the horror of what you see sends you to a screeching halt. Yu gasps, visibly shaken and outraged at the same time. Because, ahead of you, is Ogi, yes. But he is not helping the two little girls who slipped down here, no, no. He has each one tucked under his arm, overpowering the twin girls’ frantic struggles to get away from the fucking pit with cursed spirits. They’re screaming and begging for their father…to stop from doing what he’s about to do.

“Stop!” Yu screeches, angrier than you have ever seen him before. Then, ruder than you’ve ever heard him be, he goes on to ask, “What the hell do you think you’re doing, you senile geezer?!”

Ogi doesn’t hesitate. Not even a bit. As soon as he’s at the top of the staircase that leads down to the pit, he roughly tosses both the twins down it, right into the belly of the beast. You move, as deadly serious at the older man, dead set on getting those little girls out of there. Ogi turns to face you, hand reaching for the handle of his katana.

“Stand down,” he barks. “These are my children, and I’ll punish them as I see fit.” He actually takes a stance. Prepared to cut you and Yu down to continue this cruel abuse disguised as parenting. “Strangers will not be allowed to interfere in clan business. The higher-ups won’t protect you.”

You think when you heard my children, that’s when you snapped. It’s a moment of immense pressure in your skull, of ringing in your ears, of blood slipping down from your nose across the cupid’s bow of your top lip. Maybe the reason that you don’t pass out immediately is because it’s only to make Ogi misstep when he swings his katana at you. It smacks against the tile, the sound reverberating, and you sidestep him to rush into the pit.

It’s too late.

Or maybe you spent too much mental energy on making Ogi stop that you don’t have enough time to reattune your focus to quell the cursed spirits in the pit. The weaker spirits hesitate, but there’s one—Grade 2, bordering on Grade 1. It raises an arm, claws poised to slash. Only one of the girls reacts, throwing herself in front of her sister that’s looking around wildly because she must not be able to see the spirits that her sister has barely enough cursed energy to do.

Again, it’s too late to stop the blow, but you make it in time to be the one to take it. You leap at the girls, blanketing their small bodies with yours just as the claws come down. It burns. It burns. And the only reason that you’re conscious, that you’re alive is because Yu was right behind you and managed to knock the spirit off balance enough to weaken the blow.

Your body, uncaring of limits when it’s now on the brink of death, finds the energy to send a surge of cursed energy throughout the room. Every single spirit, even the one with blood dripping from its claws, is lulled to stillness by your pacification. Kill yourself, your body screams.

“Cover…” Your nails scrape against the tile before you clench your fists. “Cover…your…your ears,” you shakily demand of the girl that can see the cursed spirits.

Children shouldn’t have to hear the gore that’s about to ensue.

Slowly, you float back to consciousness while wondering when you even passed out.

You’re kind of surprised that you’re even awake right now. Because you’re sprawled out on your belly on a futon, naked down to your waist but not all that exposed since bandages are wrapped all around your upper torso. Your stomach and breasts are sore, an indication that you’ve been in this position for a long time now. Still, as uncaring about your comfort as they were, the Zen’in didn’t let you die.

Ha. So much for that old man’s warning that you wouldn’t be protected.

Then again, maybe the Zen’in don’t want to deal with the rage of Gojo Satoru.

Speaking of rage…

“Suguru,” you hoarsely call out to the dark presence that you sense looming in the corner of the room. Just a tilt to the side has pain racing across your body, so you can’t turn to see where he’s at, but you feel him. His cursed energy is burning. “Stop with that. You’ll scare everyone.”

“It’s the least they deserve,” Suguru spits.

With how furious he feels and sounds, you expect him to stay where he is. Brooding. But he doesn’t. You hear the shift of fabric before the soft padding of his feet against the tatami. He does look the picture of rage with his eyes, burning bright. His jaw is clenched, along with his fists that he puts on his thighs when he kneels down next to you. If someone other than you were here, it might be intimidating.

It is you, though, and it’s all undermined with Tamamo-no-Mae floating behind him. Her cursed energy is familiar, almost like a comfort now. He’s had her since that field trip to Osorezan. When one of her fox tails flops down from underneath her jūnihitoe, she strokes your cheek with it, and you giggle. And, like always, fox hair gets in your mouth.

“Put her away. Her toes gross me out,” you breathe out, trying to bring some levity to the situation before you start trying to spit out the fox hair without moving your hand. You think it’ll hurt too much to move your arms. “I can’t believe you pulled out a Special Grade for the Zen’in.”

“I don’t trust them.” Finally, his expression softens when his gaze drops down to you. He reaches down to put his hand on the side of your face. “How are you?”

“Hurts,” you admit.

“I know,” he croons sympathetically as he strokes your cheek. “Of all the times for Shoko to be away,” he sighs. “She won’t be here until the day after tomorrow. Satoru threatened to end the mission early, but Shoko talked him out of it. She spoke with the Zen’in that treated you. If you had a brain bleed, you’d already be dead. I sent her some photos of your back, too. You’ll be okay to wait. There’s just going to be scarring.”

“As if I care about that,” you mumble tiredly as your eyes slip close. “Can we go home?”

“Of course.” Suguru hunches over to press a kiss against your forehead. You don’t have it in you to be shy. “I’ll try not to have the spirit move you too much, but I’m sorry in advanced if it hurts you.”

“‘s okay. Sorry for the trouble.”

“Rest now.”

Somehow, you manage not to cry from the pain, but it’s a definite struggle. The worst part is when you arrive at the barrier around campus and Suguru has to carry you in his arms from there. Thankfully, the barrier is right at the top of the staircase, so you’re not jostled as much on the back of a manta ray as you would’ve been if Suguru carried you all the way up them. By the time he makes it to your room, though, your stitches have re-opened.

“You’re going to take a shower with me?” Now you have a little more mental energy to feel flustered.

Suguru is kneeled down in front of you, having carried you to the locker room where he’s now slipping your shoes off. “I know you. The blood dried on your back is bothering you, isn’t it? You’re not going to be able to sleep with it on your skin.” You look away, trying not to pout because he’s totally right and you kind of hate it. Above all else, it makes you feel special, but you also hate it. “We’ve had sex before,” he reminds you. “If you’re really uncomfortable with it then we can wait for Shoko.”

“No, I don’t want to wait for her.” Your cheeks puff out, so, yeah, you’re definitely pouting now. “I…us showering together…it doesn’t bother me that much. It’s just…I hate putting you out. You…you don’t have to dote on me like…this…” You motion to where his hands are curled around the waistband of your leggings. Despite your protest, you still lift your hips up to let him slide your leggings off. “I bet you didn’t do this with Satoru.”

“I did take care of him as much as he’d let me, actually.” Oh. “And I washed his back, too.” Suguru chuckles softly. “In all our years together, has it ever crossed your mind that I like taking care of you?”

No, honestly. That thought has never crossed your mind. “Help me undress,” you mumble embarrassedly. “Jeez, you didn’t need to lay it on so thick. I get it, I get it.”

“It’s cute when you get all shy,” he teases. “You act exactly like Satoru did.”

“Guess you have a type then,” you grouse.

He laughs at that. An actual laugh. And his face is soft, welcoming. “I guess I do, don’t I?”

Suguru had the hindsight to put you in his blazer before you left the Zen’in compound. It’s easy to take off without aggravating your stitches further. But there’s no stopping the sting of the water hitting the slashes across your back. Suguru rubs your shoulder soothingly as you try to force your body to relax. Everything is sore. The antiseptic meant to numb the area that the Zen’in medic was magnanimous enough to give you has faded. You duck your head, focusing on the water at your feet that slowly bleeds to pink to try and forget the pain.

Gently, Suguru starts to wash your back, exactly like he said he would. There’s no getting around the fact that the cloth will brush against your tender stitches. You grit your teeth in preparation and clutch at his hand still on your shoulder. As he gets to work, he starts up a conversation because he understands that keeping your mind off things will help.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

“Yu didn’t say?”

“No. Sensei pulled him in to talk with Gakuganji and some of the Zen’in. I think they went back to school ahead of us. The clans can pretend they’re better than the rest of us, but they still answer to headquarters. So, there might be some trouble for the Zen’in since you were technically there on orders.”

“Good.” He hums in question at your scathing remark. “They have a pit, you know. It’s filled with cursed spirits. The one that hurt me was nearly a Grade 1. They call it the Disciplinary Pit. I knew they were traditional but that…that’s barbaric.” The other hand that isn’t clutching Suguru is balled into a fist at your side. “And what was that old bastard going to do? He was going to throw children in there. They couldn’t have been more than…I don’t know. Six? And…and they were non-sorcerers!”

Suguru’s hand stops suddenly. The one gripping your shoulder goes unbearably tight. Against your back, you feel the other curl into a ball. “Non-sorcerers did this to you?”

Your brows furrow. Putting the pain aside, you look over your shoulder, utterly confused about where he got that idea from. “Did you space out just now or…?” Why does he look almost as angry as he did in the Zen’in compound? “Are you okay?” Why do you feel so…uneasy right now? “I said that old man—”

“Were those his children?”

“Yes? I don’t know what that has to do with anything, though. Did you not hear me when I said the pit was full of cursed spirits?”

“I heard, but…” He takes a deep breath, exhales, in that way he does when he’s trying to quell his temper. “Are you sure you didn’t overreact? I doubt he would’ve let them get hurt. You’re making it sound like he was just disciplining his children—”

“Overreacting,” you repeat blankly.

He sighs your name, irritated again. “Stop it. I can already tell you’re taking it the wrong way. We know how you are—”

Slowly, you force Suguru’s hand away from your shoulder, continuing to stare at him like he’s grown another head. He may as well have. You turn around, hoping that he’ll backtrack in the time it takes you to face him, but he seems to mentally double down because he squares his jaw when your eyes meet his. There’s…an energy festering around him. You don’t like it. It’s so angry.

But you are as equally angry, so you don’t try to appease him. You don’t try to calm things down. Instead, you lash out, seeking to antagonize. “Am I speaking a different language right now?”

Suguru picks up on your hostility, his own hackles raising once again. “You acted rashly. You almost died…and for what? Did you even ask what they did?”

This conversation has been slipping under your skin, touching a nerve that makes it hard to ignore. You don’t understand why until you unthinkingly snap, “Should I have asked your parents what you did before I went to the teachers about your bruises?”

He barks out a laugh. Dark. Nasty. Bitter. “Maybe you should have. Maybe then my arm wouldn’t have gotten broken because of you.”

The words are worse than a gut punch. Worse than how it felt when that curse’s claws sunk into your skin. You knew. In the back of your mind, logically, you knew that the social worker was called because of you and the broken arm he showed up at school with was because of you, too. But…the hurt of him saying that is so visceral.

Still, you must not look hurt enough because Suguru keeps going. “Are you ever going to stop and think before trying to help someone? Haven’t you hurt enough people?”

Dread, ice cold, rushes through your veins, dousing the fire of anger. You’re panicked by the things welling up inside the center of your chest. You blurt, “Leave.”

Suguru shakes his head. He sighs, the edge leaving his features. How dare he look so sympathetic. Like…like he pities you for not having figured this truth out sooner. Just more salt rubbed on this wound he dealt. For a moment, you’re reminded of your mother and the pity she has for her simple daughter. This is not your Suguru. Not anymore. You don’t know who this is and that scares you.

He reaches out a hand, whispering your name, but you flinch away.

“Leave!”

The order is screeched so loud that your voice cracks. It’s a volume that you didn’t think yourself capable of, let alone Suguru having heard out of you before. The noise startles him, and he jerks away. The two of you stare at each other, confused about the strangers you’ve become. You’re both shaken.

Suguru tries again, blinking the confusion away as he repeats your name and reaches out.

Trying to hide away from him, you try to cover yourself while backing away. You latch onto that demand because it’s all you can do. “Leave!” You don’t want him to see you collapse in on yourself. He won’t bring you peace. He’ll only make it worse. You scream again, “Leave!”

Scream and scream and scream…

Until, finally, looking like a wounded animal, he leaves.

It takes a long, long time for you to leave the shower room.

As unsanitary as it is, you’d sat down, butt ass naked, in the middle of the showers, sobbing and trying to calm yourself down. If you could, you’d have curled up right there and gone to sleep, but you gain enough comprehension back to know that would be a stupid idea as your emotions subside.

Still sensitive, still raw, you walk out to the locker room and see your clothes on the bench. The clothes that Suguru picked out for you. Along with the fresh bandages that he was planning to help you with. You’ll have to do that yourself now. Somehow. It pisses you off. Even when you throw the clothes to the floor in anger, you realize that you’re more upset at yourself than him. It isn’t his fault that you’re so helpless.

Halfway to your room, in nothing but your towel, you sense Yu’s cursed energy growing closer. You only have enough time to finish waddling to your room, slam the door behind you, and put on panties and shorts before he’s knocking on your door. The sound has you gritting your teeth in annoyance.

“Senpai,” he calls out through the door. His voice is alarmed. “Senpai, there’s blood on the floor!”

Damn it. “I just pulled at the stitches. It’s okay. I’ll handle it.”

“But…aren’t those stitches on your back? Can you reach them?”

“I’ll manage,” you snarl loudly.

On the other side of the door, there’s a pause. Your anger is getting misplaced. If you don’t calm down, you might lose a friend today. Maybe more than one. Who the fuck knows where you and Suguru stand right now. Fuck, you want to dig your teeth into something and tear. You should not be around another person anymore today.

“Okay! I’m coming in, so please cover up!” Yu warns. The doorknob rattles once before he realizes, “Um. Right. You might not be decent and probably need time to get dressed. Let me know when you’re ready. I won’t leave until you do!”

Oh, well, it seems that his stubbornness has knocked your temper loose. Or you accept that you’re too exhausted to wait him out, so there’s also no use in staying mad. Taking a deep breath, you ready yourself. You grab the chair from your desk, spin it around the opposite way, and sit with your chest against the backrest. You keep your damp towel pressed tight to your chest.

“Go ahead,” you call out to him tiredly.

“Thank you!”

“Why are you thanking me?” You tilt your head forward, knocking it against the edge of the chair. “Sorry for making you clean up my mess.” From the position of your head, you can see the splotches of red on your towel. “Literally,” you add under your breath because you know Yu’s going to offer to clean up all the blood.

Yu shuffles forward. Hearing the clutter coming from the direction of your desk means he’s gathering up the first-aid kit. “How many times have you patched me and Nanamin up? Isn’t it time for me to return the favor?”

“I’m the senpai here.”

“What did we talk about this morning?”

Right. Take care of yourself. Lean on others. Yu doesn’t understand that if you lean too much on someone else, you quickly become a burden. No. You can’t let your mind go there right now. “Didn’t you take care of me enough when you saved my life today?”

“Eh? What are you talking about? I distracted it long enough for you to finish them off. All of them. That geezer’s reaction when they all killed themselves was funny, now that I know you’re safe and can think about it.” You both share a laugh at that asshole, Ogi’s, expense. “They’re sending you on a mission with us,” he admits after a minute of silence.

“Punishment for overstepping?”

Yu doesn’t say it is, but it is. You know how these things go. “Purely research!” Yu tries to soften the blow. “We’ll make sure you don’t lift a finger! You won’t even have to think that hard! We can make it a vacation.” Yeah, right. You’re pretty sure if an auxiliary manager saw you having fun with Yu and Kento, you’d be sent away again on another mission for the penalty of simply enjoying life. “And if you don’t feel like shopping for souvenirs, I’ll do it for you. We won’t tell anyone.”

“Sure, Yu. That sounds good.”

Yu’s voice is so unbearably soft when he whispers, “You need rest, too, Senpai.” His kindness brings tears to your eyes. You’re glad that your head is down so that you can’t embarrass yourself any further today. “I’ll make sure you get some. Just leave it to me, okay?”

“Okay.” Emotion clogs up your throat, but you manage a weak, “Thank you.”

***

[06:55] You didn’t see me before you left.

[06:56] You saw Satoru. Not me.

[06:58] Never mind. I get why.

[07:32] I went too far. I was cruel. I don’t blame you for that. Never have. You were the only person that tried to help me. I’ll never forget that. I’ll always be grateful. What I said was me looking for things to say to hurt you. I almost lost you and didn’t know how to deal with that. It didn’t seem like you cared about your own life. I lashed out.

[09:13] I’m sorry. I’ve been under a lot of stress. I can’t eat or sleep. It’s no excuse. I’m sorry. I’ll say it as much as you need me to. I can’t lose you. I can’t. You’re all I have left.

[11:29] Squid. Please. Say something. Anything. I’m sorry.

[13:10] I know you’re angry. But I’m worried. No one has heard from you. Haibara won’t answer. Neither will Nanami.

[13:11] Just a simple reply. A frowny face. Anything at all. Let me know you’re seeing this.

[14:04] Squid?

[14:05[ Please.

[16:43] Are you safe?

[16:44] Is what I’m hearing true?

[16:45] Be safe. Please. Be safe.

[16:46] I’m on the way.

***

It’s a disgustingly humid September night, technically, but right now, you’re cold.

And all you wanted was to be like them.

Foolishly, you told yourself that if they could take a mission three weeks after they faced death, why couldn’t you? It’s not like you almost died. The two weeks that Sensei pushed for you to have off were generous enough. Besides, you understand it now, how much of a hindrance you actually were when you fought to keep them out of the field.

You need this.

You can’t stand to be alone with your mind.

But you weren’t ready. Just the sight of the small, dilapidated shrine has blood splattering across your memories. You break out into a cold sweat. There’s a war inside your mind. This isn’t like two weeks ago—that’s what you try to remind yourself. Push through it. A shrine doesn’t automatically equal an ubusunagami spirit. Where is Suguru? You’re sick to your stomach. Why did you split up? Have you learned nothing? Are you going to be too late to save a life again?

Stop, you plead to your body. You clench your trembling fists. You have to do this. The world has to spin on. It doesn’t care about a stupid girl who made the wrong call and killed a boy. This work is both your punishment and atonement. You’ll let them keep tugging at the leash around your neck until it’s a noose because that’s what you deserve.

The oppressive weight of the Grade 1’s cursed energy that’s been haunting these woods shifts. With nothing but the moon and some flashlights, it’s easy to follow after the explosion of blue light. You’re dazed over the fact that you missed everything that happened. Was there even a fluctuation? A fight? Is Suguru just that strong that he can absorb a Grade 1 in the dead of night like it’s nothing?

As you break into the clearing where he is, you ask, “You took care of it?” Like the answer isn’t obviously sliding down his throat, glowing eerily through the delicate skin of his neck. “Why didn’t you come find me? I wasn’t far.”

Suguru glances away after it’s swallowed. Not even a wince anymore. “It’s fine.”

This irritates you. Another little thing tonight that he’s done. Reminding you incessantly that you could stay behind with the auxiliary manager, trying to force food down your throat when you’re clearly not hungry, touching the small of your back to guide you, hovering. Now, he does this.

The only reason that you keep your mouth shut is because you know he cares. He’s a good person, like everyone else. They don’t blame you and treat you like glass, like you’re a victim. You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to breathe. You tell yourself it’s the humidity making your chest tight.

With the other hand, you wave your sketchbook. “Are you serious? It was Grade 1. I’m supposed to record that.”

“I’ll let you sketch it later.”

“It’s pointless now,” you mutter. “Don’t even bother.”

Suguru scoffs. “Okay. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Recording them doesn’t only mean drawing pretty pictures. I’m supposed to observe their behavior.”

“You can.”

“You know it isn’t the same when they’re under your control.”

Suguru reaches up to press a thumb to his forehead, meaning he’s getting irritated with you. You resist the urge to do the same, instead tapping your foot impatiently. “It’s your first mission back,” he tries to reason. “I’m sure they’ll be understanding. But if they try to hold imperfect notes against you, I’ll take the blame.”

“I don’t want them to take it easy on me!”

He shakes his head, dismissive. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“I’m not broken.”

“Everything about this goddamn system is broken!” Suguru shouts, making you reel back. The two of you watch each other warily. He shakes his head again, squeezes his eyes shut, takes deep breaths. “Let’s…just go. We’ll deal with this later,” he mutters irritably. “Let’s meet with the contact in the village and use their phone to call the manager.”

“Fine.”

Three wide brown eyes stare at you in terror.

There should be four, but one is swollen shut.

That face is too tiny to be so battered.

Suguru speaks where you cannot. “What is this?”

A man and woman were at the door, frantic and desperate to know where you and Suguru had been. Before you’d even had the chance to explain that their problem was taken care of, they practically shoved you and Suguru toward a shed. It was hard to make out what they were trying to say throughout their panicked and angry babbling. You think there was something about some murderers.

From behind you, your contact in the village answers, “What, you ask? These two are responsible for the latest incidents, right?”

Suguru is back to pressing a thumb to his forehead. Emotions are rising. Yours definitely are. Anger is putting a tremble in your hands again and your head is throbbing. You’re trying to find your voice past the lump in your throat. What the fuck is this? Does no one fucking visit these places before sending a sorcerer out?! A sorcerer wasn’t the only person needed here! A goddamn police officer was!

“No, they’re not,” Suguru answers more calmly than you can.

The man insists, “These two are crazy! They used their mysterious powers to attack the villagers!”

Something about the girls shifting, huddling closer to each other, finally snaps you into action. Full of rage, you shove past the woman to grab the set of keys that you saw near the door. “If you psychos even gave us the chance to talk, you’d know that we got rid of the problem already!”

The couple starts to sputter in outrage, seeing your clear plan to release these girls. Suguru remains unmoving, big body enough of a deterrent to keep the non-sorcerers from lashing out. So, the woman claws at your wrist. “My granddaughter was nearly killed by these two!”

One of the little girls, the one with dirty blonde hair, tries to protest, “That’s because she—”

“Shut up, you monsters!” Out of the corner of your eye, the shadows shift unnaturally. In the flickering of the flame, it’s not too noticeable. Suguru’s shadow raises a hand, pointing, and from the end of that finger comes a little spirit. “Your parents were just as bad,” the woman continues to rave. “I knew we should have killed you when you two were babies!”

It’s okay, Suguru commands the little spirit to whisper. He’s trying to reassure the little girls, to let them know that you’re all one in the same, that they’ll be safe with you. Adrenaline is rushing through your veins. There is a primal instinct to get these girls out of this place. You are all in danger here.

Blocking the entrance of the cell with your body, with every fiber of your being, you swear to the couple, “If you ever try to hurt these children again, I will kill you.” If Suguru will be gentle, then you will flash your teeth. It’s enough to send the man and woman stumbling back. “We’re leaving. If you try to stop us, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

No response. They just book it.

As soon as they’re out the door, you’re a flurry of movement. You tear off your hoodie and snatch Suguru’s blazer from where it’d slipped out of his grasp from the shock. You collapse to your knees in front of the girls, resisting the urge to touch them and check for injuries before you introduce yourself.

“We’re like you,” you explain as gently as you can when you feel so frantic. “We see them. We see you. I’m going to protect you with my life, okay? Are you cold?” They nod fervently. “Put these on. Let me help. Can you walk?” Throughout the process of wrapping them up in something warm, they manage weak affirmations. “Good. Okay. I know the things you’ve been seeing are scary, but Suguru can control them. If you see any of them, don’t be afraid. You never have to be afraid when he’s around.” You look over your shoulder briefly, hoping that directly speaking to him will pull him out of the trance. “Right? Suguru?”

Suguru stares at you blankly, unseeing. Inside him, though, his cursed energy is a frenzy. So big, so uncontrollable that it bleeds out. It’s sharp, like needles pinning down the wings of an insect. You are aggressively thrown back to that day where Satoru rose from the dead, godlike in his power, and how small it made you feel. Prey under the heavy gaze of a predator.

“Suguru is going to protect us all,” you tell yourself and them. High emotions have you sensitive to the cursed energies of others, so that’s why you can feel him so viscerally. It’s scary. You’ve never felt rage like this before—from you or him. It’s the same for you, but you can’t sit here and stew in this. These girls come first now. “Take my hands,” you instruct them as you hold your hands out. “Don’t let go.”

The makeshift prison is, thankfully, on the edge of the village. It wouldn’t be good to parade through the streets. Locking these children up was a collective decision. The faster you can get the fuck out, the better. If you can make it through the woods, to the main road, you can get a signal there, you think. No. No, you’ll just ride the manta ray. You’ll explain everything as soon as you get to Sensei.

“You’re safe now. You don’t have to be scared anymore.” You didn’t realize you were rambling, unconsciously trying to distract them from their fear with your chatter. “There’s a school. Full of people just like us. You’ll get to meet them. There’s my best friend, Shoko. She’ll make you feel better. Her power is to heal. Better than any regular doctor. And there’s our best friend. His name is Satoru. He’s super strong. Just like Suguru. He loves Digimon. He’s got lots of plushies to share with you.”

All these emotions have you feel like you could crawl out of your skin. And Suguru still hasn’t said anything. He’s mechanical in his movements, staying at the back of your little group. As you guide the group, you can pinpoint the opening of rifts, sense the cursed spirits that crawl out. Good. Yes. More protection. Who knows how those monsters are acting right now. They could be rallying the village.

“We’re going to make sure you’re taken care of. You’ll never be in a place like that ever again. I swear, you’re going to be in a place that’s full of love and understanding. Not everyone is like those terrible, terrible people—”

The more protective of the two is the blonde, based solely off that she went with you first. Voice shaking, but trying so hard to be brave, she asks, “They’re not?”

“They are.”

There’s this…snap. So brutal a turn that it hits you like whiplash.

Around you, there is such a sudden stillness that it feels like the very world has its breath held. There’s no veil. But nature senses a storm on the horizon. The eeriness of it is like ice slithering down your spine. You’ve unknowingly come to a stop, slowly turning around to face Suguru. Over his shoulder, a wider rift is opening, and as you stare into the inky darkness, many glowing eyes stare back.

The ground shakes when the Grade 1 clumbers out of the rift. It has to be the one from earlier. The foliage and trees growing on its back are distinct. Along with those eyes. And fangs so long and big that they stick out of the spirit’s mouth. It looms tall, but it doesn’t make you feel near as small as Suguru is right now.

“There are good people,” you protest quietly.

“There are good sorcerers,” he corrects just as lowly. “And where do they end up? In the ground.” Carefully, you nudge the girls further behind you before you step away. This is not a conversation that they need to hear. “When will it be our turn?” Close enough, you see the desperation in his eyes. “How long before it’s your body on a slab?”

“Death is a part of life.” Your fingers seek his out, threading together, trying to comfort him. “And we decided to risk that death coming earlier than everyone else when we left home. We chose to put our lives on the line.”

“But who are we doing this for?!” Suguru yanks his hands away, stretching his arms out, gesturing toward everything. “Animals like these?!”

“There are more good people in this world than bad.”

“If that’s the case, why do curses exist?”

“Suguru, that’s just how things are. It’s the way nature made us.”

“No. Nature made sorcerers better. They made us stronger. Why do we have to put our lives on the line like this for stinking monkeys that keep throwing their shit at us? We hide ourselves away from them, working in the shadows, always being so careful to not disturb their peace of mind, and for what? Is it so they can lock little girls in cages because they’re too scared of the unknown? Or so they can beat me like my fucking father did or constantly belittle and demean you like your parents did all for the sin of not being what they call normal? We don’t deserve this!”

“I know we don’t. No one does.” How can you explain this to him? You understand what he’s saying. Down in your bones, you know where this resentment is coming from. “But while there exists extreme cruelty, there also exists overwhelming kindness. It can’t be all bad. We found happiness, didn’t we?”

“We found it with sorcerers. If we lived in a world where no non-sorcerer existed, there wouldn’t be all this pain!”

“But…that world doesn’t exist. It can’t.”

“Why not?”

You give a sharp, hysterical laugh. “Because you’d have to kill every non-sorcerer living, that’s why. That’s not possible.”

He tilts his head, almost condescending when he sneers, “It’s not?” The cursed spirit behind him gives a rumbling growl, reminding you of its presence, of its threat. Your already racing heart pounds faster as you comprehend his meaning. Surely, he doesn’t mean…

“Suguru, let’s go home,” you plead.

“No.” No? “There is no home for me now. We’ll never be safe or happy until this world is clean. I understand what my true path is now. I know what I need to do now…and I’ll kill anyone that gets in my way.”

The precipice that your world has been standing on the edge of for the last year finally tilts.

Suguru won’t hurt me.

Right now, you’re the only person that can stand close enough to drag him back from the edge. I’ll kill anyone that gets in my way, he threatens, and right now, you believe that. But not me, you know. Therefore, it must be you that saves him. Because he’s falling. He’s going somewhere that you won’t be able to follow. You’re going to lose him. This would be rebirth and this would be death.

Suguru won’t hurt me.

Cursed spirits seem to explode out of him. Too many to count. You know them all. The blossoming promise of an army that the higher-ups were always afraid he could weaponize.

Suguru won’t hurt me.

That Grade 1 shifts. Its maw, hungry for blood, opens wide. It raises an arm, claws sharp and poised at the ready. You know that when it moves, it’s over. The other spirits will follow. This Grade 1 is an extension of Suguru. This is his rage, his loneliness, his agony.

Suguru won’t hurt me.

Eyes, cold and hard as the amethyst they so resemble, stare dead ahead with steel-like resolve. Slowly, he starts to turn his back on you. You have to stop him. You have to keep talking to him. And you reach out a hand to grab at his bicep. Your mouth is in the shape of his mouth. You think…you think that you might say something that sounds like stop.

Suguru won’t hurt me.

Just as your body instinctually knows that you don’t need to pacify his spirits, that he won’t hurt you…his body knows not to hurt you, either…

Suguru won’t hurt me.

…right?

Suguru won’t—

Blood colors your vision. Pain doesn’t even register in your brain. One second, you’re upright, and in the next, the ground is rising up to meet you. Even the resounding thud that your body gives as it slams down does triggers nothing. Sprawled out in the lush green grass, it only really feels numb to you.

No, all your erratic thoughts can seem to focus on is how disgusting this feels. Wet, sticky heat is quickly soaking your white shirt, weighing it down against your skin, making you feel trapped. You might be gasping for air that you can’t seem to get enough of.

Suguru…hurt…

Thoughts are getting scattered in your brain now. The world narrows in, black hedging in at the corner of your vision. You want it off. The shirt. The blood. You stupidly reach a hand up to wipe away the blood. Gore is all you find. Open gaping wounds that start at the crook of your neck and go…you don’t know how far down. You don’t have the strength left to follow the path.

Suguru…hurt…

Oh. There is he above you now. Thank goodness, you think when you see the panic so clear on his face. Emotion…there’s all those emotions that’d been missing. Nothing cold anymore. Thank goodness. His mouth moves. Says your name, maybe. You can’t hear him. You can’t feel it when he presses his hands somewhere on your body, either. Putting pressure on it must not be working. There’s a lot of blood dripping from his hands when he scrambles to pull out his cell phone. Ah. Yeah, your vision is starting to blur. You give up trying to read his lips.

It's a pretty night, all things considered. For as much as you two hated it, it’s beautiful in the countryside. Easier to see the moon and stars. You always tried to reject that reality. After you left for Tokyo, you thought that was it, that you left that all behind for good, that you wouldn’t die in the backwoods.

Guess you were wrong about that.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fic #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #jjk gojo #jjk geto #gojo satoru #geto suguru #anime #my fic #autistic reader #autistic gojo #jjk angst #jjk fanfic

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f14fun · 1 day ago

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A Cowgirl's Stars, Stripes, and Speed (!black-!cowgirl-!singer x dr3) (C2)

synopsis: in which case y/n, a bold African American country singer, crosses paths with Daniel, a charming Australian Formula 1 driver, both tipsy and unwound by the night.

prose + smau (11.6K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

author's note: completely forgot that i had chapter two in the drafts, here ya go! (so so so sorry this is literally MONTHS late)

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

Waking up for Free Practice One, or FP1 as Maddie called it, felt a lot like waking up for a rodeo at 5 a.m.—except instead of dust, horses, and the smell of hay, I was getting ready for million-dollar cars, European accents, and a paddock full of people who probably didn’t know what a boot-scootin’ boogie was.

“Am I the first person to ever show up to a Formula 1 event in cowboy boots?” I muttered to myself, staring at my reflection in the mirror. “Because if so, I’m about to make history.”

Maddie barged into my room, her eyes immediately zeroing in on my footwear choice. “You cannot—cannot—be serious,” she said, pointing at the boots like they had personally offended her.

I raised an eyebrow. “You do realize I’m from Texas, right? I’m contractually obligated to wear these.”

She groaned, dramatically rolling her eyes. “Y/N, this isn’t a rodeo. It’s Formula 1. There are literally people there who probably think Texas is just a setting for Western movies.”

“Good,” I replied, giving my boots an extra little stomp for emphasis. “They’re about to learn a thing or two.”

Maddie, fully aware that no amount of persuasion was going to change my mind, sighed and flopped down on my bed. “You’re going to be the most interesting thing to hit the paddock, and I don’t even know if that’s a compliment.”

“I’ll take it,” I said, grabbing my bag. “Besides, I’m sure Daniel’s already prepared for my... unique aesthetic.”

Maddie grinned. “Oh, he’s definitely prepared. The real question is—are you ready for what’s coming?”

I shot her a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She wiggled her eyebrows. “Oh, nothing. Just that you’re about to be dropped into a world of fast cars, faster drivers, and more champagne than you’ve ever seen in your life. Try not to faint when Daniel shows up in his race suit, though. I've seen you salivate like a dog in a man in a suit before, I better not see this behavior in public again,” she waved her finger and raised her eyebrow.

I snorted. “I’ll try to control myself.”

She followed me to the door, a mischievous grin still plastered on her face. “Don’t worry. If you pass out, I’ll be there to catch you. And get it on camera.”

“Thanks, sister of the year,” I said, rolling my eyes as we headed out to face what was bound to be the weirdest and wildest weekend of my life.

As we pulled up to the track, the sheer size of everything hit me. The grandstands, the noise, the sleekness of it all—it was overwhelming, and we weren’t even at the paddock yet. “This is... a lot,” I muttered, gripping the steering wheel tightly. My nerves had kicked in.

Maddie, of course, was completely unfazed. “Oh, yeah. Welcome to the big leagues. Now let’s get you inside before you chicken out and run back to the rodeo.”

“Not a chance,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

As we made our way to the paddock entrance, I kept reminding myself to stay cool. I wasn’t some fangirl—I was here to support Daniel and, okay, maybe enjoy the adrenaline rush of being surrounded by the fastest cars on the planet. But when we reached the paddock gate and I spotted the crowds of stylish people and team members buzzing around, I couldn’t help but feel a little out of place.

“This is... fancy,” I whispered to Maddie as I spotted a group of people sipping espresso like they were at some high-end café instead of a racetrack.

“Yeah, and you’re about to be the wild card,” Maddie replied with a grin.

Before I could say anything, I heard a familiar voice behind me. “Y/N?”

I turned, and there he was—Daniel Ricciardo, in his race suit, smiling like he had all the time in the world. And damn, Maddie wasn’t kidding—he looked good in it.

“Welcome to the circus,” he said with a grin, his eyes flicking down to my boots before meeting mine again. “Nice boots. You ready for your first Formula 1 weekend?”

I smirked. “I mean, as long as no one tries to race me in those things, I think I’ll survive.”

As Daniel chuckled, leading us deeper into the paddock, I started to notice it—the stares. At first, I thought I was imagining things, but no. People were definitely glancing my way, some openly, others stealing curious looks from behind their sunglasses or over the rims of their espresso cups.

I tried to ignore it, focusing on the sound of Daniel’s voice and Maddie’s occasional teasing, but the feeling started to creep up on me. The combination of being the only one in cowboy boots, the only one not decked out in sleek, designer outfits, and, let’s be real, the only Black woman in this sea of European wealth and privilege—it was a lot.

For a split second, my confidence wavered. What am I doing here? This world, with its fast cars and high fashion, felt miles away from anything I’d ever known. I could feel their eyes tracing over my skin, my clothes, my difference. And that old, familiar feeling of not quite fitting in snuck up on me, catching me off guard.

Do they think I don’t belong here? The thought stuck, and I hated that it did.

Maddie, always attuned to my moods, leaned in, her voice low. “You good?”

I forced a smile, trying to shake off the insecurity that had settled over me. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But Maddie wasn’t buying it. She followed my gaze, noticing the same looks I had. “They’re just jealous they don’t have boots as cool as yours,” she said with a wink, her voice light but full of understanding.

Daniel, completely unaware of my sudden internal struggle, turned back to us with a grin. “Everything alright back there?”

I cleared my throat, snapping out of my thoughts. “Yeah, just taking it all in. You weren’t kidding when you called this place a circus.”

He laughed, oblivious to the little battle going on in my head. “It’s a lot at first, I know. But don’t worry—soon enough, you’ll be running this place.”

I smiled, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes. I wanted to believe him, to feel like I could own this space as easily as he did, but the truth was, I felt like an outsider. It was the same feeling I got sometimes in certain parts of Austin, where people would look at me, sizing me up, wondering how I fit into the picture they had in their heads. But this—Formula 1? This was a whole new level.

We kept walking, Daniel chatting about the weekend ahead, and I did my best to nod and respond when appropriate, but my mind kept drifting back to those stares. I do belong here. Right?

Just when I thought I’d spiral into that uncomfortable feeling, Maddie looped her arm through mine and whispered, “Remember, you’re here because you deserve to be. Plus, you’ve got Daniel freaking Ricciardo practically showing you off. That’s gotta mean something.”

I glanced at her, a small smile tugging at my lips. She always knew how to snap me out of my head. “Yeah, I guess.”

“And just wait until you walk by some of these stuck-up folks in those boots. You’ll have them talking about you for weeks.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. Maddie had a point. Maybe I didn’t fit in here the way they did, but maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. Maybe being different was exactly what I needed to be.

As we turned the corner, Daniel slowed his pace, and I noticed a man standing with a group of people, talking animatedly. He had this authoritative air about him, someone who clearly knew his way around the place—definitely important. Daniel gave him a nod as we approached, and the man turned, his face breaking into a smile.

“Daniel!” the man called out, clapping Daniel on the back as we stopped in front of him. His eyes quickly flicked over to me and Maddie, curious but friendly.

Daniel grinned. “Christian, meet Y/N and her sister Maddie. They’re, uh, getting their first taste of the F1 circus.”

Christian turned to us, offering a polite smile. “Nice to meet you, ladies. I’m Christian Horner, team principal at Red Bull Racing.” He extended his hand, and it took me a second to process his name.

I blinked, suddenly realizing who I was standing in front of. The guy who ran one of the most successful teams in Formula 1. Oh, wow. I managed to return the handshake, trying to keep my cool.

"Y/N," I said, trying to sound casual, though my voice was a little more high-pitched than I intended. "Nice to meet you too."

Christian’s gaze shifted between us, still friendly but clearly sizing up the new faces. “I trust Daniel’s showing you around? Not too overwhelmed by all of this, I hope.”

I shrugged, trying to downplay the fact that, yeah, I was definitely overwhelmed. “It’s... a lot to take in. But Daniel’s been helpful.” I shot Daniel a look, raising an eyebrow.

Christian laughed. “That’s good to hear. He tends to make quite the impression.”

Before I could reply, another voice chimed in from behind us. “And who do we have here?” The accent was British, but lighter, more playful.

I turned and found myself looking at a young guy with curly brown hair and a cheeky grin plastered on his face. He was clearly younger, but there was a confidence about him that said he wasn’t new to this. His eyes landed on me, and the grin widened.

Daniel rolled his eyes but didn’t miss a beat. “Y/N, Maddie, this is Lando. Lando Norris. He drives for McLaren.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Lando said, stepping forward and offering a handshake. I took it, trying not to get lost in how friendly his smile was. He definitely had that mischievous look—the kind that said he was always up to something.

“Nice to meet you too,” I said, my grip firm despite my nerves. Maddie, meanwhile, looked like she was about to faint.

Lando’s eyes flicked over me, lingering for just a second longer than necessary, and I suddenly felt like I was back in the bar, dealing with that playful banter all over again. “You’re new around here, aren’t you?”

I nodded, biting back a grin. “Yeah, first time.”

“Well,” he said, leaning in just slightly, “if you need someone to show you around the paddock, I’m your guy. Daniel’s great, but I can give you the real tour.” He winked, clearly enjoying himself.

Maddie let out a small giggle, and I shot her a don’t you dare look.

Daniel, standing just a little too stiffly beside me, cut in before I could respond. “Yeah, Lando’s an expert at real tours. But I think I’ve got it handled.”

I noticed the slight edge to Daniel’s voice, though he tried to keep it light. Lando, ever the cheeky one, just shrugged.

“Alright, alright,” Lando said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Didn’t mean to step on your toes, mate.”

Maddie, always ready to stir the pot, jumped in. “I mean, it doesn’t hurt to have options, right?”

I glared at her, my cheeks heating up. Not helping, Maddie.

Lando chuckled, clearly amused by the whole situation. “Exactly. Always good to have a backup plan.” He shot me a quick grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Daniel, clearly not thrilled with the direction this conversation was going, leaned a little closer to me, his voice low but firm. “I think Y/N’s got all the help she needs, mate.”

The tension was subtle, but it was definitely there. Lando, ever the joker, just smiled and backed off with a shrug. “No worries, Daniel. Just being friendly.”

Christian, watching the exchange with mild amusement, clapped his hands together. “Alright, boys, save the rivalry for the track.”

Daniel, now visibly more relaxed, shot Christian a grin. “No rivalry here. Just making sure Y/N gets the proper tour.”

I smirked, nudging Daniel lightly. “I can handle a little extra attention, you know.”

He glanced down at me, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, well, some of us don’t need to flirt to make a good impression.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, his grin never faltering. “Flirting’s just a bonus.”

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. “Oh, this is going to be a long weekend.”

Lando, noticing Maddie’s growing excitement, gave her a mischievous grin. “Well, I suppose I can offer someone a proper tour of the track. Maddie, what do you say? Want to ditch these two and come with me? I’ll show you where the real action is.”

Maddie’s eyes lit up like she had just won the lottery. “Oh, hell yes! I mean, uh, yeah, sure,” she said, trying to act cool, but completely failing at it. This girl was not as nonchalant and mysterious as she thought she was.

I shot her a look, half warning, half amused. “Maddie…”

She waved me off with a grin. “I’ll catch up with you later, sis. I’m in good hands.” Then she leaned in, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear, “Don’t wait up.”

Before I could respond, Lando took her by the arm and started leading her away, his signature cheeky grin firmly in place. “You two behave now,” he called over his shoulder, clearly loving every second of this.

I laughed, shaking my head. “I cannot believe my sister just ditched me for an F1 tour.”

Daniel smirked, watching them disappear into the bustling crowd of the paddock. “Well, I don’t blame her. Lando’s... energetic. Plus, now I get you all to myself.”

I glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh? That your plan all along?”

He grinned, not even bothering to hide the mischievous glint in his eye. “Maybe. It worked, didn’t it?”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help smiling. “Alright, Mr. Ricciardo, so what’s next on this grand tour? Or is this where you start charming me with racing facts?”

He chuckled, taking a step closer. “I could give you the whole rundown on tire compounds and aerodynamics, but I’m guessing that’s not why you’re here.”

I tilted my head, pretending to consider. “Actually, I was really hoping for a deep dive into downforce.”

Daniel laughed, the sound easy and genuine. “I can save that for later. Right now, though, how about I take you somewhere a little quieter? Grab a bite?”

My stomach, which had been ignored in all the excitement, grumbled in agreement. “You read my mind.”

Daniel gestured for me to follow him, weaving through the maze of garages and trailers that made up the heart of the paddock. As we walked, people continued to stare, but this time, with Daniel by my side, I felt more at ease. He had a way of making everything feel less intimidating, like I could handle whatever this crazy world threw at me.

As we continued walking, weaving through the bustling paddock, Daniel’s arm brushed against mine, and before I knew it, his hand found mine. The move was casual, like he’d done it a thousand times, but it caught me off guard. His fingers intertwined with mine, and I immediately noticed how smooth his skin was, warm against my palm.

I glanced down at our hands, surprised at how perfectly they fit together, like this was the most natural thing in the world. It wasn’t just the physical contact—it was the feeling that came with it, a mix of warmth and comfort that settled over me, making the chaotic energy of the paddock fade into the background.

I looked up at him, but he didn’t say anything. He just smiled that easy, confident smile, his thumb gently brushing the back of my hand as we walked. It was such a simple gesture, but my heart did a little flip anyway.

“So,” he said, his voice light and teasing, “you still expecting that downforce lecture?”

I laughed, trying to keep my cool despite the butterflies in my stomach. “You know, I think I’m good for now. I’ll save the nerdy questions for later.”

He gave my hand a small squeeze, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Good call. Wouldn’t want to overwhelm you with all that F1 knowledge right away.”

I shook my head, grinning as we walked. My brain was still half-focused on how nice his hand felt in mine, but I was doing my best to keep up the conversation. “I think I’ve had enough new information for one day.”

We continued strolling through the paddock, and though the stares hadn’t completely stopped, they no longer made me feel out of place. With Daniel holding my hand, the looks from other people didn’t matter as much. It was like there was this invisible bubble around us, and for the first time that day, I felt like I actually belonged in this world.

He led me toward a quieter section of the paddock, where the energy was less frantic, and it was easier to talk without being drowned out by the roar of engines. The sounds of mechanics working and conversations happening in every direction became a soft background noise.

Daniel glanced over at me, his grip on my hand tightening slightly. “You know,” he said, his voice dropping just a bit, “I’m really glad you’re here. It’s nice to have someone... different around.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Different how?”

He smirked, his eyes scanning my face for a second before he answered. “You’re not trying to impress anyone. You’re just... yourself. I like that.”

I felt my cheeks flush at his words, and I looked away, trying to hide the smile creeping up on my lips. “I guess it’s hard to impress people when you barely know what’s going on.”

He laughed softly, his thumb still absentmindedly tracing patterns on the back of my hand. “Trust me, you’re doing better than half the people here.”

I glanced back up at him, our eyes locking for a brief moment. There was something deeper in his gaze, something that made me feel like I wasn’t just a guest in his world—I was someone he actually wanted to be around.

Before I could come up with a reply, we reached the small café area he had mentioned earlier. The space was quiet, tucked away from the hustle of the paddock, and the smell of food was enough to make my stomach grumble again.

Daniel smiled, clearly hearing my stomach. “Guess I made a good call bringing you here. Let’s grab something to eat.”

We found a cozy little table in the corner of the café, and I immediately felt the tension from the rest of the day melt away. The smell of freshly cooked food filled the air, and the quiet buzz of conversation hummed softly in the background. It was a stark contrast to the chaotic energy of the paddock just outside.

Daniel sat across from me, still wearing that easy smile that made it impossible for me to stay nervous. As we flipped through the menus, his eyes flicked up toward me. “So, any idea what you’re in the mood for, or should I make a recommendation?”

I smirked, lowering my menu to meet his gaze. “You recommending something non-Texan? I don’t know, that might be risky.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair with an amused glint in his eyes. “I think I can manage. This might not be BBQ or Tex-Mex, but I promise, the food here won’t disappoint.”

I raised an eyebrow, still pretending to be skeptical. “Alright, Ricciardo, hit me with your best suggestion. What’s the must-have paddock dish?”

Without missing a beat, he leaned in, dropping his voice to a mock-serious tone. “You’ve gotta try the... ham sandwich.”

I blinked, staring at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. “The ham sandwich? Seriously?”

He shrugged, grinning. “Hey, sometimes the simple things in life are the best. And I’d argue a good ham sandwich can be life-changing.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, still chuckling. “I’ll take your word for it. But I think I’ll stick with something that sounds a little more... adventurous.”

Daniel smiled, leaning his elbows on the table, clearly enjoying the banter. “You’re adventurous, huh? I’ll keep that in mind.”

Before I could respond, a waiter appeared, and we placed our orders—him going with the infamous ham sandwich, me opting for something a little more exciting. As we waited for the food, the conversation turned a little more personal.

“So,” Daniel began, his tone shifting from playful to genuinely curious, “tell me more about you. We’ve talked a lot about my world today, but I feel like I don’t know enough about yours. What’s it like being a country singer in Texas?”

I shrugged, fiddling with the edge of my napkin. “It’s definitely... different from this.” I gestured around, indicating the world of Formula 1 we were sitting in. “It’s a lot of late-night gigs, long drives between towns, and trying to get people to listen to your music. But I love it. There’s something special about connecting with people through songs.”

He nodded, his eyes intent on mine. “I get that. Racing’s a lot like that, actually. You’ve got all this hard work behind the scenes, but it’s those moments on track when everything comes together that make it all worth it.”

I smiled, appreciating the parallel. “Yeah, I guess it’s similar. Although I doubt people scream your name at the end of a concert the way they do when you’re on the podium.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You’d be surprised. People get pretty wild over a good performance, no matter what the stage looks like.”

I tilted my head, studying him. “What about you, though? You’ve been doing this for so long. Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

Daniel’s expression softened, and for a moment, I saw a glimpse of something deeper in his eyes. “There are times when it’s exhausting, yeah. The travel, the pressure, all of it can be overwhelming. But at the end of the day, I love it. The thrill of being on track, the competition... it’s hard to give that up.”

I nodded, feeling a newfound respect for him. “It sounds like a crazy life, but I can see why you love it.”

He smiled again, this time more sincere, and leaned forward slightly. “Enough about me, though. What’s the craziest thing that’s ever happened to you on stage?”

I laughed, thinking back to some of the more ridiculous moments. “Oh, there are so many. But probably the time when a guy tried to propose to his girlfriend in the middle of my set, and she said no. Talk about awkward.”

Daniel’s eyes widened. “No way. That actually happened?”

I nodded, laughing. “Yep. Right in the middle of a ballad, too. The whole crowd went silent, and I just stood there like, ‘Do I keep playing?’”

He winced, clearly feeling the secondhand embarrassment. “That’s brutal. I don’t know if I could’ve kept going.”

I grinned, leaning back in my chair. “It’s a tough gig, but someone’s gotta do it.”

He shook his head, laughing again. “I’m impressed. I don’t think I’ve had anything that cringey happen on track, but now I’m kinda hoping for it.”

I smirked. “Be careful what you wish for.”

The waiter returned with our food, and as we started eating, the conversation flowed easily. It wasn’t forced or awkward—it just felt natural, like we’d known each other longer than just a couple of days. Between bites of food, we joked about everything from our weirdest fan encounters to the quirks of our respective worlds.

At one point, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and gave me that cheeky grin again. “Alright, I’ve gotta ask—how are you handling this whole F1 thing? It’s gotta be a little overwhelming.”

I swallowed my bite of food, considering his question. “Honestly? It’s wild. It’s like being dropped into a completely different universe. But... I’m kinda enjoying it. It’s different, but in a good way.”

Daniel’s eyes sparkled, and I could tell he was pleased with my answer. “Good. I was hoping you’d like it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Worried I’d bail halfway through the weekend?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah. I just wanted you to have fun. I know it’s not easy being thrown into all of this.”

I smiled, feeling the warmth of his words settle in my chest. “I am having fun. More than I expected, actually.”

He reached across the table and gave my hand a quick squeeze, his touch sending a little jolt of electricity through me. “Good. Because this weekend’s only just getting started.”

I couldn’t help but grin, my heart racing a little faster than it should have been. Something told me he wasn’t just talking about the race.

“Guess I’d better buckle up, then,” I said, the flirtatious edge in my voice impossible to hide.

Daniel leaned back, his grin widening. “Oh, you have no idea what you’re in for.”

Daniel stood up, pushing his chair back with a soft scrape against the floor. “I’ll be right back. Don’t miss me too much,” he teased, giving me a playful wink before heading toward the back of the café.

I rolled my eyes, chuckling as I watched him go. But as soon as he disappeared out of sight, my attention shifted to the door of the café, and my heart nearly stopped.

Johnny.

There he was, casually strolling into the café like it was the most normal thing in the world. The same Johnny I hadn’t seen in months—the guy I thought I’d left in the past—was now standing less than ten feet away from me.

What the actual hell?

First Carrie yesterday, now Johnny today? It was like the universe was conspiring against me. Why were these two popping up like ghosts from my past all of a sudden? And more importantly—why here?

Fuck me man, I felt like that one story that had Ebenezer Scrooge in it—that's right, that weird story my Mom read to me when I was younger, A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. But instead of the Ghost of Christmas Past and the Ghost of Jacob Marley, I was haunted by the ghosts of bad decisions and unresolved drama. Carrie, with her biting sarcasm and unfinished business, and Johnny, the walking reminder of every poor choice I’d ever made. They weren’t here to show me the errors of my ways—they were here to twist the knife.

The Ghost of Missed Opportunities, and the Ghost of "What the hell was I thinking?" Great. Just great. All I needed was one more, the Ghost of Emotional Baggage, to complete the haunting trifecta. Maybe they’d hold hands and sing carols while I watched my dignity fade into oblivion.

Panic fluttered in my chest, and without thinking, I shifted in my seat, tilting my head down so that my hair fell forward, obscuring as much of my face as possible. I pulled the menu up as an extra barrier, mentally chanting, please don’t see me, please don’t see me.

I peeked through a small gap between the strands of my hair, watching as Johnny scanned the room. For a second, I thought I was safe—he seemed to be looking past me, like he hadn’t noticed me at all.

But then his eyes stopped. And locked directly onto me.

Shit.

What are the odds…Nevermind, I actually do not want to know.

His brows furrowed in recognition, and I saw the exact moment he realized who I was. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, followed by what could only be described as mild amusement. My heart sank as he started walking toward me, his steps slow but deliberate.

“Y/N?” His voice was hesitant, like he wasn’t entirely sure if it was really me, but I knew that tone all too well.

I kept my face half-hidden, silently hoping for some kind of divine intervention. But this was real, and there was no escaping it now.

“Johnny,” I said, my voice as neutral as I could muster, finally dropping the menu and brushing the hair back from my face.

He stopped in front of me, a small smirk forming on his lips. “I thought that was you. Didn’t expect to see you... here.”

I forced a tight smile, trying to keep my composure. “Yeah, well... here I am.”

He crossed his arms, glancing around the café. “F1 paddock, huh? You sure are full of surprises these days.”

I felt my jaw tighten. “I could say the same thing. What are you doing here, Johnny?”

He shrugged, his smirk deepening. “Business. Just checking things out. You know how it is.”

I raised an eyebrow. “At the Formula 1 paddock?”

“Hey, I get around,” he said with a casual shrug, but I could see that smugness in his eyes—the same look that used to drive me crazy. “But what about you? Last I checked, you weren’t into fast cars and fancy races.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Things change. People change.”

He let out a low chuckle, clearly amused. “So I see. You always were full of surprises.”

I could feel the heat rising in my chest, the mix of annoyance and nerves bubbling up. This wasn’t how I wanted to spend my day. Not with Johnny, of all people. And definitely not here.

Before I could come up with a response, his eyes flicked to the empty seat across from me. “You mind if I sit?”

Yes, I mind, I thought, but instead I nodded, forcing a polite smile. “Go ahead.”

Johnny slid into the chair, leaning forward on his elbows like this was some kind of casual catch-up, his eyes studying me. “So, who’re you here with? Anyone special?” His tone was light, but I could hear the curiosity behind it.

I hesitated for a second, not sure how much to say. “Just... here for the weekend.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “That’s vague.”

I shifted uncomfortably, glancing toward the back of the café, half-hoping Daniel would miraculously reappear and save me from this awkward situation. “It’s not really important, Johnny.”

But he wasn’t about to drop it. “You know, I ran into Carrie yesterday. Small world, huh?”

My heart sank further. Of course he’d bring up Carrie. The two of them had always been close, and after everything that went down, the last thing I wanted was for them to be talking about me.

“Yeah, it’s a small world,” I said, my voice tight.

Johnny leaned back in his chair, studying me with that familiar look—like he knew something I didn’t. “You and Carrie… didn’t exactly end on the best terms, huh?”

I stiffened, narrowing my eyes. “You know exactly why, Johnny.”

He gave a slow nod, as if savoring the tension in the air. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

Before I could respond, the sound of footsteps approaching made me glance up—and there was Daniel, walking back toward the table with an easy grin on his face. But the second he spotted Johnny sitting there, his smile faltered, replaced by a look of confusion. “Everything alright here?” Daniel asked, his tone polite but edged with something sharper. Johnny’s smirk didn’t waver as he glanced over his shoulder at Daniel. “Just catching up with an old friend.” He turned back to me, his eyes still locked on mine. “Didn’t realize you’d moved on so quickly.”

The tension in the air became palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Daniel stood there, his posture casual but his eyes sharp, flicking between Johnny and me, clearly trying to assess the situation. Johnny, on the other hand, seemed to relish the discomfort, leaning back in his chair with that insufferable smirk still plastered on his face.

I felt my pulse quicken, the unease settling deep in my stomach. “Johnny, this isn’t—”

He interrupted me, tilting his head slightly. “No need to explain, Y/N. We all move on, right?” His tone was dripping with sarcasm, like he knew exactly how to twist the knife. “Though, from what I hear, you didn’t waste any time.”

Daniel’s jaw tightened just slightly, and I saw the flash of annoyance in his eyes. “I think she’s already made it clear that this isn’t your business,” he said, his voice cool but laced with warning.

Johnny didn’t seem fazed by Daniel’s calm exterior. If anything, it seemed to fuel his smugness. He glanced at Daniel, sizing him up in that subtle, passive-aggressive way I knew all too well. “Oh, no offense, mate. Just curious is all. I mean, I didn’t think I’d be seeing her here in the middle of the Formula 1 paddock, much less sitting with you.”

My stomach churned as Johnny’s words hung in the air. He wasn’t just trying to get under my skin anymore—he was trying to provoke Daniel. And judging by the way Daniel’s hand flexed slightly at his side, I could tell it was working.

“Y/N’s welcome wherever she wants to be,” Daniel replied, his voice steady but with an edge that I hadn’t heard before. “You should probably get that through your head.”

Johnny’s smirk faltered for the first time, and a flicker of something darker passed through his eyes. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze locking onto mine. “It’s just funny, you know? How you can spend years with someone, thinking you know them, and then one day...” He snapped his fingers. “They’re gone. Just like that.”

I clenched my jaw, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on me. This wasn’t about me and Daniel anymore. This was Johnny’s way of dredging up old wounds, reminding me of the past, and making sure Daniel knew that he wasn’t just some random ex-boyfriend. He wanted to make this personal.

“I didn’t just leave, Johnny,” I said quietly, but firmly. “We both know why it ended.”

Johnny leaned back, that smirk creeping back onto his face as he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Ah, yes. My bad. You’ve got it all figured out now, huh? Living the high life, new man, new world.”

Daniel, who had been standing next to me, finally stepped forward, positioning himself closer to Johnny, his eyes narrowing. “I think you’ve said enough.”

The air between them crackled with tension, and for a split second, I thought things might actually escalate. Daniel’s easygoing demeanor had shifted, and he wasn’t playing around anymore. I could feel the protective energy radiating from him, like he was ready to step in if Johnny pushed any further.

Johnny met Daniel’s gaze, the smirk still on his face but his eyes cold. “Just having a conversation, mate. No need to get worked up.”

Daniel didn’t back down, his voice dropping lower. “You’re not here to talk. You’re here to stir things up. I get it. But it’s not going to work.”

Johnny chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it. He stood up, adjusting his jacket as he looked down at both of us. “Well, it’s been enlightening, Y/N. Really. I’ll see you around.”

He glanced at Daniel one last time before turning on his heel and walking out of the café, his presence leaving a bitter taste in the air.

I let out a shaky breath, the tension in my body slowly unraveling as Johnny disappeared from view. Daniel sat down across from me, his expression still hard, his jaw clenched. He looked at me, his concern evident in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now.

I nodded, but I couldn’t hide the lingering frustration. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t expect to see him here, or... Carrie yesterday. It’s like they’re everywhere all of a sudden.”

Daniel reached across the table, taking my hand in his. His grip was firm, grounding me. “You don’t have to apologize for him. He’s clearly got some unresolved issues, but that’s not on you.”

I sighed, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah, well, I thought I’d left all of that behind. Guess it’s harder to outrun than I thought.”

Daniel’s thumb gently brushed the back of my hand, his touch reassuring. “You’re not running anymore. You’re here, with me. And he can’t touch that.”

I met his gaze, feeling the weight of his words settle in my chest. There was something in the way he said it, in the way he was looking at me, that made me feel like everything was going to be okay. Like I wasn’t alone in dealing with this.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He smiled, a small, genuine smile that chased away the lingering tension. “You don’t have to thank me. I’ve got your back.”

We sat there for a moment, the café’s gentle hum returning as the intensity of Johnny’s presence faded. But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the last time I’d be seeing him—or Carrie. They were still a part of this tangled mess, and somehow, I knew they wouldn’t let me move on that easily.

But with Daniel sitting across from me, his hand still in mine, I felt stronger. Like whatever came next, I wouldn’t be facing it alone.

Daniel leaned in with a playful grin. “You seriously dated that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “Like, in your songs, I thought you were being dramatic, but…” He trailed off, failing miserably as he attempted to imitate Johnny’s gruff accent, his voice cracking mid-sentence. “Oi, I’m Johnny, and I’m here to ruin your day,” he added with an exaggerated scowl, dramatically puffing out his chest.

I couldn’t help it. Laughter bubbled up from my chest, loud and unexpected, catching me off guard. It was the kind of laugh that made your stomach hurt, the kind that came out when you were least expecting it. Daniel’s terrible impression was so far off that it was hilarious, and for the first time today, I felt a little lighter. The knot in my chest loosened, and for a moment, the awkwardness of running into Johnny and Carrie faded away.

“Okay, okay, that was terrible,” I said, still laughing, wiping the corner of my eye. “But thank you. I needed that.”

Daniel grinned wide, obviously pleased with himself. “Glad to be of service, love,” he replied, his Australian drawl carrying the words in that easy, effortless way that made everything sound a little more charming than it should. He puffed his chest out again, still half-committed to the ridiculous Johnny impersonation. “Come on now, I thought I nailed it. Pretty sure Johnny sounds exactly like that.”

I shook my head, a smile still tugging at my lips. “Trust me, you’re way off. But, for the record, I think you just made him sound better than he deserves.” I raised an eyebrow playfully, feeling the lingering tension ease just a little more.

“Ah, well, it’s a talent, I suppose,” Daniel shot back, with a wink. “Making your exes sound like halfway decent humans. Maybe I’ve missed my calling.” He reached over, gently nudging my shoulder, and the warmth of his touch felt more grounding than I expected.

For a second, I just watched him, marveling at how easily he could turn the mood around, how quickly he could shift the energy in the room with just a few lighthearted comments. His accent—God, his accent—made everything sound smoother, softer, even when he was trying to joke around. I didn’t realize how much I needed someone to break through the storm cloud that had been hovering over me all day.

I couldn’t help but admire it. There was something about the way Daniel spoke that made me want to listen to him, to let myself be carried away by the sound of his voice. “You know,” I said, my smile lingering, “that accent of yours… it’s kind of unfair.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking mock-offended. “Unfair? You wound me, love. I thought it was my best asset.”

“Oh, it absolutely is,” I teased, tilting my head. “You could probably get away with saying anything and still sound charming.”

Daniel smirked, leaning back a little, clearly enjoying the banter. “Well then, I suppose I better be careful with my words, huh? Don’t want to waste this so-called ‘charm’ of mine on just anything.”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t deny the smile that kept creeping up on me. “Too late. You’ve already wasted it on that horrendous Johnny impression.”

Daniel chuckled, leaning in closer, his grin still firmly in place. “Ah, but see, now I know my limits. No more terrible Johnny impressions—unless, of course, you ask for them.”

“Not a chance,” I shot back, shaking my head, though the playful glint in his eyes made it hard to keep a straight face. “I think I’ve suffered enough today, thank you very much.”

“Fair enough,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll stick to my strengths then—making you laugh and, apparently, charming my way through this conversation.”

I crossed my arms, leaning back against the bar, my gaze locking with his. “Is that what this is? A charm offensive?”

Daniel’s smirk deepened, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Well, it seems to be working, doesn’t it?”

I couldn’t argue with that. He had a way of lightening the mood, of making everything feel less… heavy. His presence was like a breath of fresh air, cutting through the lingering tension from my earlier run-in with Johnny and Carrie.

“You’ve got a point,” I admitted, trying to play it cool despite the fact that I could feel a blush creeping up my neck. “But don’t get too cocky. You’re only as charming as I let you be.”

“Oh, is that how it works?” Daniel asked, his voice dropping into a teasing lilt. “So, you’re saying I need your permission to be charming?”

I tilted my head, giving him a playful smile. “Something like that.”

He leaned in just a little, the space between us narrowing as his voice dropped to a low murmur. “Well then, I’ll just have to make sure I stay on your good side.”

For a moment, I felt the air shift between us, a subtle tension weaving its way through the playful banter. His eyes locked on mine, and for the first time, I noticed the way his gaze softened just a fraction, as if he wasn’t just joking anymore.

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could find the words, Daniel’s smirk returned, breaking the moment with a wink. “What do you say? Think I’ve got a chance at staying charming for a while longer?”

I laughed, shaking my head, the tension easing back into lightheartedness. “We’ll see. You’re off to a decent start, though.”

“Good to know,” he said, his grin widening as he took a sip from his drink. “Guess I’ll just have to keep working at it then, won’t I?”

“Looks like it,” I replied, feeling a warmth settle in my chest that had nothing to do with the whiskey I’d been sipping. It was strange, how easy it was to talk to him, how natural the conversation felt.

Maybe it was the accent. Or maybe it was the way he made me forget about everything else, even if just for a little while.

Either way, I found myself wanting the moment to last just a little longer. The ease of being with Daniel, his playful charm, made everything feel lighter. We left the café, wandering toward the paddock, with the hum of the race world buzzing around us.

Suddenly, a group of teenage boys—five of them, no older than seventeen—approached us, all wearing different variations of Formula 1 gear. They were grinning like they’d just hit the jackpot.

“Y/N?” one of them asked, his voice cracking slightly, clearly nervous. “Is it really you?”

I blinked, taken aback. “Uh, yeah, that’s me.”

They exchanged excited looks, practically bouncing on the spot. “No way! We’re huge fans!” another boy chimed in. “We listen to your music all the time!”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Teenage boys? Really? I mean, sure, I had a decent fan base, but I’d always pictured my listeners as mostly women around my age, maybe a few guys here and there. But these boys—decked out in their racing caps and track jackets—didn’t exactly scream “Y/N fan club.”

“Wait, seriously?” I asked, grinning. “You guys listen to my music?”

“Are you kidding?” one of them replied, his eyes wide. “Your last album? Fire. We’ve had it on repeat for weeks!”

The others nodded enthusiastically in agreement. “Yeah! ‘Falling Apart’—that’s our anthem, man. We play it before our soccer games to hype up.”

I laughed again, shaking my head in disbelief. “Well, I’m glad it gets you pumped.”

Daniel, who’d been silently observing with a smirk on his face, suddenly leaned closer to me, slipping effortlessly into his role as the comic relief. “You see that?” he said loudly, nudging me with his elbow. “Even teenage boys can’t resist your charm. Should I be worried?”

One of the boys looked between us, his eyes narrowing slightly as he realized what Daniel was implying. “Wait… are you two… like, a thing?”

Before I could respond, Daniel flashed a wicked grin and draped his arm over my shoulders. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased, his accent making the words sound far more suggestive than necessary.

I elbowed him lightly in the ribs, rolling my eyes but unable to hide my smile. “Don’t listen to him,” I said, shaking my head at the boys. “He’s just messing with you.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Daniel continued, winking at me as if the boys weren’t even there. “I think they can see the chemistry. It’s undeniable, right, lads?”

The boys burst into laughter, clearly amused by Daniel’s antics. One of them, the tallest of the group, gave Daniel a playful thumbs-up. “Yeah, mate! You’re doing great!”

Daniel puffed out his chest, acting like he’d just been handed an award. “See? They approve. Guess I’m winning today.”

“Winning what exactly?” I asked, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow at him.

“Your heart, obviously,” Daniel shot back without missing a beat, his grin growing even wider.

I rolled my eyes again, but I couldn’t help the blush that crept up my neck. The boys all snickered like they were in on some private joke. This was turning into a full-blown comedy sketch, but to my surprise, I didn’t mind. In fact, I was kind of enjoying it.

“Alright, alright,” I said, laughing. “How about I sign something for you guys before Daniel’s ego gets too big?”

The boys eagerly handed me a couple of hats and a marker, still buzzing with excitement. As I scribbled my signature, they chatted excitedly among themselves about the race, about my music, and about Daniel’s antics, like we were all old friends.

When I handed back the hats, one of the boys asked, “So, are you gonna write a song about Formula 1 next?”

I chuckled, glancing sideways at Daniel. “Who knows? I’ve been getting a lot of inspiration lately.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, catching onto the innuendo. “Inspiration, huh? Does this inspiration happen to have a devilishly handsome accent and a knack for making terrible impressions?”

I smirked, giving him a playful shove. “Don’t flatter yourself. My inspiration doesn’t come from bad impressions.”

One of the boys, who had clearly been paying way too much attention, chimed in, “Oi, are you saying he’s not handsome? Because, like, I wouldn’t mind if someone called me devilishly handsome.”

Daniel burst out laughing. “Well, look at this guy! You’ve got some competition, Y/N. He’s coming for my title.”

I shook my head, but the whole group had descended into laughter. “Careful, Daniel. I think your reign as the charming one might be short-lived,” I teased, still grinning.

The boys exchanged exaggerated glances, clearly loving every moment. “We’ve got the charm too, you know!” another one of them piped up. “We listen to your music—‘Falling Apart’? Yeah, it’s practically our anthem, so that should earn us some points!”

“Ah, points system now? I see how it is.” Daniel folded his arms, looking mock-serious. “Alright, lads, who can do the best Y/N song impersonation? Whoever wins might just dethrone me as the most charming one here.”

Before I could object, the tallest boy cleared his throat dramatically, striking a pose that was almost too ridiculous to believe. “I got this,” he declared, then proceeded to belt out the chorus of Falling Apart with all the wrong notes, completely off-key, but with so much passion that it was impossible not to laugh.

The rest of the boys joined in, not with singing but with over-the-top interpretive dance moves that had nothing to do with the song at all. One of them even pretended to play an imaginary guitar solo, thrashing around like he was on stage at a rock concert.

I was doubled over in laughter at this point, tears in my eyes. “Oh my God, what is happening right now?” I gasped between fits of giggles.

Daniel wiped a fake tear from his cheek, trying to hold back his laughter. “I think we’ve just witnessed the most beautiful rendition of your song. I’m sorry, love, but I’ve officially been out-charmed.”

One of the boys puffed out his chest proudly. “Told ya, we’ve got the charm. Now, where’s our prize?”

“Prize?” Daniel asked, feigning confusion. “Mate, your prize is the satisfaction of knowing you’ve ruined one of Y/N’s greatest hits for her forever.”

The boys erupted in laughter, but one of them wasn’t quite done. “Wait, wait, I can do better!” He jumped forward, clearing his throat dramatically. “I’m Johnny, and I’m here to—” His attempt at an impression was so bad that he immediately started laughing halfway through.

I groaned, but I couldn’t stop laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. “Oh no, not this again!”

Daniel, with his grin practically splitting his face, leaned in toward me, speaking loud enough for the boys to hear. “See, they’ve got nothing on my Johnny impression. I think I still win.”

I rolled my eyes, but the heat from his closeness wasn’t lost on me. “That’s a pretty low bar to clear,” I teased, trying to maintain my cool despite the way he was looking at me, like I was the only person in the world at that moment.

One of the boys noticed the shift in energy and grinned slyly. “Ooh, I see what’s happening here. You two are flirting! Caught in the act!”

Daniel placed a hand on his chest dramatically. “Flirting? With me? Surely not.”

“Can you blame her though?” another one chimed in, wagging his eyebrows. “I mean, with that accent…”

I let out a laugh that was part amusement, part embarrassment. “Alright, alright, enough of this! You’re all officially the worst hype men ever.”

Daniel, still enjoying the show, winked at the boys. “See, lads? She can’t resist my charm—neither can you, apparently.”

“We’re just trying to help you out, mate,” one of them said with a smirk. “You can thank us later.”

Daniel chuckled, leaning in even closer, that mischievous glint in his eyes only growing more intense. “Oh, trust me,” he said, his voice dropping just low enough for me to catch the playful tone, “I think I’ve already thanked her… once or twice.”

I froze for a split second, my eyes widening as I realized what he was hinting at. A quick glance at the boys confirmed that they had caught on too—one of them let out a loud, exaggerated gasp, while the others exchanged knowing looks.

“Ohhhhhh!” one of the boys practically shouted, his grin stretching from ear to ear. “Wait, man this is definitely is a thing, you can't deny it now!”

Another one interrupted, smirking as he threw in, “Sounds like someone’s been thanking her a little more than once.”

I felt my face heat up, the blush creeping up my neck as the teasing started in full force. “Guys—no, it’s not like that!” I tried to defend, but my stammering only fueled their amusement.

“Oh, sure, sure,” one of them said, clearly enjoying every second of this. “We totally believe you.”

Daniel, completely unfazed, leaned back with a satisfied smirk. “Don’t worry, lads, I’m a gentleman. I don’t kiss and tell.”

“You’re literally telling right now!” I shot back, my embarrassment only making the boys laugh harder.

“Wait, wait,” one of the boys interjected, barely holding back his laughter. “So, like… when you sing about late nights in your songs, is that about him?” He pointed at Daniel with mock seriousness.

“Yeah, is Daniel the muse?” another one chimed in, mimicking air quotes.

“Oh my God,” I groaned, hiding my face in my hands as the boys dissolved into laughter. “This is not happening right now.”

Daniel, ever the instigator, gave a mock-innocent shrug. “Hey, I didn’t say anything specific. You’re the one who’s giving them ideas.”

I shot him a look, trying to hide my smile. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here we are,” he replied, winking at me before turning back to the boys. “You lot are getting way too much joy out of this, by the way.”

“We can’t help it!” one of them exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “This is, like, the best day ever. Formula 1 and relationship gossip in the same day? We’re thriving!”

Another one crossed his arms, nodding sagely. “Yeah, it’s like our favorite artist just dropped a new track, and it’s all about a secret romance.”

“Oh God, don’t give them any more ideas,” I muttered, still blushing furiously.

“Too late!” one of the boys shot back. “I’m calling it now—next album’s gonna have a song called Thank You, Daniel.”

Daniel burst out laughing, clearly loving every second of this. “I’m not opposed,” he said with a grin. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“Absolutely not,” I replied firmly, shaking my head even as I laughed.

“Come on, Y/N,” one of the boys teased. “You gotta admit, it’s catchy.”

“Yeah, and it could go something like…” another one started singing, completely off-key. “Thank you, Daniel, for the wild night we had…”

The rest of the boys immediately jumped in, adding to the absurdity of it all. They clapped and hollered, half-singing, half-laughing. “You swept me off my feet, oh yeah, Daniel, you complete me!”

I groaned, covering my face in my hands. “Please stop, this is painful.”

But they were on a roll now, clearly loving every second of tormenting me. Another one joined in, singing in a terrible falsetto, “Oh, Daniel, why’d you have to go and make me fall so hard?”

Daniel was barely holding it together, his laugh ringing out loud enough to draw a few curious glances from people passing by. He turned to me, shaking his head, his eyes dancing with amusement. “I think you’ve just been given your next hit, love. They’re writing it for you.”

I shot him a look, half-exasperated, half-amused. “This is not helping.”

Daniel chuckled, clearly enjoying the show. “Come on, Y/N. At least they’re being creative. They’ve even got choreography,” he said, gesturing toward one of the boys, who had started twirling around dramatically.

“Oh my God,” I muttered, still laughing despite myself. “This is officially out of control.”

One of the boys, apparently the self-proclaimed leader of the group, stepped forward with an exaggerated flourish. “You see, Y/N, we’re just trying to get you and Daniel to release a collab album. Think of the potential—‘Duets with Daniel!’ We’d be the first to buy it.”

“Yeah, we’ll even design the album cover!” another one added, miming holding a camera. “You, all serious with your guitar, and Daniel in the background with his race car and a rose between his teeth.”

I burst out laughing at the image they were painting, unable to take any of this seriously. “You guys are ridiculous,” I said, still shaking my head. “But I’ve gotta admit, you’ve got some... interesting ideas.”

Daniel, however, wasn’t about to let this moment pass without making it even worse for me. He leaned in close, lowering his voice just enough for the boys to hear but making it sound extra suggestive. “You know, Y/N, I’m not entirely opposed to a duet. I mean, we’ve already had one great performance together, haven’t we?”

I whipped around to glare at him, my cheeks burning. “Daniel—”

The boys absolutely lost it. “OOOOOH!” they chorused, practically falling over each other in laughter. One of them clapped his hands together, howling, “He said it! He went there!”

“Performance, huh?” one of them teased, waggling his eyebrows. “Oh, we definitely need to hear that track next.”

“Guys!” I exclaimed, feeling my face heat up even more. “It’s not like that!”

But Daniel wasn’t about to let me off the hook. “Oh, I dunno,” he said casually, shooting me a cheeky grin. “Depends on who you ask.”

I could feel my blush spreading down to my neck now, but I couldn’t help laughing at how absurd the whole situation had become. The boys were having the time of their lives, and Daniel—well, he was clearly loving every second of my flustered reaction.

“Okay, okay, we’re done,” I said, raising my hands in surrender. “No more duet ideas, no more wild night theories. I think we’ve reached our quota for embarrassing moments today.”

One of the boys, still grinning from ear to ear, nodded sagely. “Alright, we’ll stop... for now.”

Another one, clearly still riding the high of the whole thing, added, “But just know, we’re expecting a wild new album soon. Maybe call it Songs from the Paddock.”

Daniel chuckled, nudging me playfully. “There’s your next hit, love. Courtesy of your biggest fans.”

I rolled my eyes but smiled anyway. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be sure to give you guys credit in the liner notes.”

The boys beamed as if I’d just promised them the world, and as they finally wandered off, still singing their ridiculous makeshift song, I let out a deep breath, glancing at Daniel.

“I can’t believe you,” I said, half-joking, half-serious. “You are way too good at making things awkward.”

He shrugged, grinning. “Hey, if I can make you blush like that, I consider it a win.”

I sighed dramatically, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” he said, echoing the same words he’d used earlier, with that damn grin still plastered on his face.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice softening despite myself. “Here I am.”

As we walked back toward the Red Bull garage, the cool breeze picked up, making me shiver slightly. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to ignore it, but Daniel, ever observant, noticed right away.

“You cold, love?” he asked, already shrugging off his jacket before I could protest.

“No, I’m fine—” I started, but he cut me off, draping the jacket over my shoulders with a firm but gentle touch.

“There,” he said, adjusting it around me. “Can’t have you freezing on my watch.”

The jacket was warm and smelled faintly of him—something I couldn’t quite place, but it was comforting. I pulled it tighter around myself, feeling the fabric practically swallow me up. It was way too big, the sleeves hanging well past my hands and the collar brushing against my chin, but I didn’t mind. In fact, I kind of liked it. The way it enveloped me made me feel oddly safe, cocooned in something that was entirely his.

As I adjusted the jacket around my shoulders, I could feel his eyes on me. Not just a casual glance either—he was scanning me, his gaze slowly trailing over how the oversized jacket hugged my frame, his lips curving into a small, knowing smirk. Heat rushed to my face, and I could feel the blush creeping up my neck, spreading to my cheeks. I focused on tugging the sleeves, trying to act unaffected, but the way his eyes lingered left my pulse racing.

“You look good in my colors, you know,” he said, his voice low and teasing, the words sending a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

I blushed harder, feeling like the jacket wasn’t just covering me, but almost amplifying the attention he was giving me. I kept my head down for a second, pretending to fiddle with the zipper, but inside, my heart was doing somersaults.

I pulled the jacket tighter around myself, feeling his gaze still on me. Way too big, I thought. But in that moment, I kind of liked the way it made me feel—small, and maybe, just maybe, like I wasn’t so invisible to him after all.

Before I could say anything, he took my hands in his, rubbing them between his palms to warm them up. “Gotta make sure you’re properly taken care of,” he teased, his voice low and playful. “Can’t have you getting frostbite in front of the whole paddock.”

I laughed awkwardly, but the truth was, his hands felt so warm against mine that I didn’t pull away. Instead, I let him keep rubbing them, the casual intimacy of the gesture making my heart beat a little faster.

And then, out of nowhere, he pulled me into a hug. Tight. His arms wrapped around me as if it were the most natural thing in the world, like he’d done it a thousand times before. My face pressed against his chest, and I could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath the layers of fabric.

I stiffened at first, aware of all the people milling around us, some of whom were definitely watching. This was the paddock, after all—eyes were always on us. I could feel the stares, the curious glances from the crew members, the fans in the distance, even some of the drivers. But Daniel didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“Daniel,” I muttered, trying to sound calm but utterly failing as my voice wavered. “Everyone’s watching…”

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against the top of my head. “Let them watch,” he said, his tone light, but with an edge of seriousness. “I don’t mind.”

I pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. “But I—”

He cut me off with a grin that sent a shiver down my spine, and not from the cold. “You look even cuter when you’re embarrassed, you know that?” he teased, brushing a stray piece of hair away from my face.

I felt my face burn even hotter. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said softly, leaning in just a little closer, “here we are.”

My heart pounded in my chest, confused by the swirl of emotions coursing through me. Was he serious? Was this just more of his playful flirting, or was there something more behind it?

Before I could untangle the thoughts running through my mind, he closed the gap between us and kissed me.

Sure we had kissed so many times the night prior, but there was something about today's kiss, that was so different. It wasn't rushed. It was gentle. It was sweet.

It was soft at first, almost like he was testing the waters, his lips brushing against mine in a way that made my breath hitch. The world seemed to pause around us, the only thing I could focus on was the feel of him—his warmth, the subtle scent of his skin, the steady pressure of his lips as they moved against mine. His kiss was gentle, like he wasn’t rushing but savoring the moment, allowing me to feel the full weight of it, as if this wasn’t just a casual flirtation.

For a second, my mind raced, shocked at the boldness of it, but my body reacted before my thoughts could catch up. I felt myself relax into him, every ounce of tension I’d been holding onto melting away as he pulled me closer. His hands slid up, warm and confident, until they found the back of my neck, his fingers threading through my hair. He held me gently, but there was a firmness to his grip that made my heart race even faster, grounding me in the moment, making it clear that this was no accident.

The kiss deepened, his lips pressing more firmly against mine now, and I melted—literally melted into him, my body softening as my hands instinctively gripped the front of his jacket, pulling him closer. My mind went blank, thoughts dissolving into the sensation of him, the way he tasted, the slow, deliberate way his mouth moved over mine, coaxing a response from me that I hadn’t even realized I was capable of.

I barely registered the fact that we were still in the middle of the paddock, surrounded by people who were definitely watching. But none of it mattered. The noise, the bustling crowd, the potential whispers—everything faded into the background, like static, as the world narrowed down to just the two of us. All I could focus on was the way his lips felt—warm and commanding, yet somehow soft, his breath mingling with mine in a way that made my head spin.

His body pressed against mine, and I could feel his heartbeat—steady, strong, completely unfazed by the fact that we were very much in public. Meanwhile, mine was racing like I’d just run a marathon, a nervous excitement coursing through me that left me breathless. His hand tightened slightly on the back of my neck, as if he didn’t want to let go, as if he was silently telling me, Stay here, with me, in this moment.

When he finally pulled away, it was gradual, his lips lingering on mine for just a beat longer, as if he wasn’t quite ready to break the connection. His forehead rested gently against mine, our breaths mingling, and I realized I was gasping for air, like I’d forgotten to breathe during the kiss. My heart was pounding so loudly in my ears that I could barely hear the scattered murmurs around us. My mind was spinning, trying to make sense of what had just happened, but nothing seemed to make sense except for him. The feel of him. The warmth still radiating between us.

“You alright there?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, though there was a softness in his eyes that made my stomach flip. His thumb brushed along my cheek, tender and intimate, the gesture sending a ripple of warmth through me. The smug look on his face made it clear that he knew exactly what kind of effect he was having on me.

I blinked, still trying to gather my scattered thoughts. “I… um… what?”

He grinned, clearly amused by my confusion. “I think I made my point,” he said, his voice dropping even lower, like we were sharing some kind of secret that no one else was privy to. His thumb traced a slow, deliberate path along my cheek before he finally stepped back, leaving me standing there, dazed and breathless, still reeling from the kiss.

The world around us started to come back into focus—people passing by, fans in the distance, the low hum of engines in the paddock. I could hear the murmurs, the whispers of those who had witnessed the entire thing. A few curious glances were thrown our way, but Daniel didn’t seem to care. In fact, he looked completely unbothered, as if kissing me in the middle of the paddock was the most natural thing in the world.

He winked at me, his grin still firmly in place as he turned toward the garage, his confidence as unshakable as ever. “You coming, love?” he called over his shoulder, acting like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, like he hadn’t just completely scrambled my brain with one kiss.

I stood there for a moment, trying to gather my bearings, still feeling the heat from his kiss lingering on my lips, the way his hands had cradled my neck so gently but possessively. My fingers absently brushed against my mouth, still tingling from where his lips had been, and my pulse quickened all over again.

What just happened?

I tried to replay the moment in my head, tried to figure out how something so simple as a kiss had turned my entire world upside down in a matter of seconds. And why, despite the embarrassment of being kissed in front of so many people, did I already want it to happen again?

My heart was still pounding as I looked up to see Daniel waiting for me, hands casually tucked in his pockets, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips. He raised an eyebrow as if daring me to make the next move.

I swallowed hard, my thoughts still jumbled, but there was one thing I knew for sure: this day had just taken a turn I never saw coming.

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taglist: @gyarubunny

author's note: comment to be added to the taglist! i'll probably update after a few more fics about NEW DRIVERS (wow!)

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the-sky-queen · 7 months ago

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Alright, so! Cast list for my Sonic Anastasia AU!

Anastasia = Amy

Dimitri = Sonic

Vlad = Shadow

Gleb = Knuckles

Dowager Empress = Blaze

Lily = Rouge

Count Ipolitov - Tails

[Anastasia's Grandfather] = Silver

[Extras] = Literally everyone else

For the rest of Amy's family, I'm honestly just thinking they would be mentioned, but never fully shown/described. I guess I could design some OCs to be Amy's family, but at this point in time, I don't really want to. We'll see if that changes.

#i think about this au all the time you guys have no idea #I've had it my head for probably about two years now #Sky Queen #Sonic the Hedgehog #Sonic AU #Sonic Anastasia AU #anastasia musical

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lunarharp · 10 months ago

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What led to this (orufrey comic, cw an uncomfortable/creepy scene)

#witch hat tag #orufrey #er.... i'm too tired to have anything to say..i worked several days on this.#wait.. didn't i say just recently here that i probably wouldn't ever depict 'what if alaira is qifrey's sort-of ex'. What's going on #i don't even remember deciding to draw this..it's all a blur..i'm not sure why i WOULD decide to draw delicate scenes in my head #that i wouldn't really want to share with anyone/discuss so why did i draw it...#some part of me really really wants to draw things that are more and more true to myself...#maybe because of my alienation with most romance/shipping/dynamics the rest of the world depicts.#orufrey really is perfectly suited to me - what i read in the text and what is in my head. well anyway #i am TIRED of drawing poses and angles and..maybe now i will actually take a break from drawing bc of the tediousness of Angles #btw it really is a 'stretch of time' . . . assuming witches graduate age 18-20 #well orufrey are canonically 30-ish. they've only had agott around for presumably about TWO years (?) bc she took the test age 10 #and it feels like oru moving in/unknown atelier acquisition/building (?) .. i guess that could be a year or so before agott at most #(she was the first disciple) so... ????????? What about the other 7 or so years ?!?!?!!?!?! Unemployed Brimhat Hatred era #that time is very nebulous. after qifrey went to the tower i feel like it's been implied he and oru drifted apart a little.#certainly they didn't live together at first... no way. that doesn't feel like how it is based on things oru has said about becoming Eye #idk. I'm tired now. i don't usually think of alaira as necessarily qifrey's ex and this being how things went in that 'sliver of time'.#i usually prefer the idea that they have their first kiss with each other in their 30s cause That's Just The Orufrey Lifestyle #just felt like making a more relatable alternative view of my own Cai Orufrey Canon one time. btw im a big monoshipper and it hurt a bit #let's leave it there. this is surely the most i've worked on a 'single' art - though now i realise just how much longer the fic took :')

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butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway · 3 months ago

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I don't have a lot of energy these days [because of The Horrors] so I'm looking at my day and my priorities and trying to plan how I'm going to spend what energy I have, because I do need to be able to rest and relax but there are also things that need doing and that is a careful balance for me.

I managed to [mostly] clean the kitchen last night so I've kicked it out of the priority list until next weekend. Unfortunately the living room, bathroom, bedroom, and my office all need cleaning too. I think of the priorities, my office and the bedroom are the most important to me, so I'll probably push the living room and bathroom until at least Friday.

There's also the laundry. I don't have any clean clothes and as we're moving into winter I need to be more rigid about getting that done because days where the clothes can be dried on the line will be more limited. So I definitely need to wash an outfit or two and hang them up in the next hour.

That's already a really busy day, so I'll probably cut it there. But it's definitely going to still leave me a lot of work this week. Half my cleaning, at least one more round of laundry, settling dog food for the next couple of weeks, planting the fall/winter greens, doing some set up work on my computer, work on some writing projects, cleaning out the fridge, and patching some worn clothes. My work week isn't insane atm, but it is definitely limiting. Right now I have 6+4+0+4+2+5+5= 25 non work/non-survival needs (sleep, food, shower, etc) hours available each week. I need to figure out a regukar distribution of these that means everything is getting done and I still have an hour a day to myself as often as possible. I think it's probably not realistic to give myself more than an hour a day for free time/fun, which is a bit unfortunate because I've found in the past that my floor tends to be getting 2-3hrs of free time most days because of how I deal with transition and decision-making.

25-7 [1hr per day] is 18 hrs, so I just need to decide where and how to distribute those in order to keep pace with things.

Lets say the garden needs 3hrs per week, the laundry needs 4 hours (specifically 2 sets of 2 morning/early afternoon hours), the cleaning needs an hour a day to get through a maintenance clean of the house, and 3 hours once a week to work down any deep cleaning that's built up. Which is....already three more hours than I actually have each week. So I guess I'll make a plan to work in the garden for 20-40min of 4 of my free hours each week.

It really doesn't leave me any wiggle room. Only about 4 hours a week that isn't explicitly allotted to something that needs doing, which means there will probably me a lot of weeks where I only get an hour or so at best across the whole thing for free time. I guess I've had a hard time accepting that at this point, having actual time for myself or a time-intensive project is only available if I've taken a day off work. I love my job, but it's ... not comfortable to realize that it's the only love in my life I actually have time for anymore.

I think that's probably why I end up here so much. It's this mindless little way of zoning out into my own head, dissociating away from the exhaustion, for a few minutes at a time. I keep thinking I want to use this space differently, make it more if the things I enjoy. But I think what I really want is just to actually have the time and energy to do things I love that take work. I keep crying a few times every day and I couldn't figure out why, but like

I dunno

Why **wouldn't** I cry a little every day? It's the closest I'm getting to actual emotional release or relaxation in my life. We'd probably all cry. Heck. A lot of us probably DO, capitalism being what it is.

I guess I'm starting to wonder why I'm doing what I'm doing. What is there left for me to sacrifice to this life? What is actually serving me about not just letting myself go up like a fireball and take my surroundings with me? What in the ever loving fuck am I fighting this hard for?

All I ever want, all I want now, is to be able to live. To really, actually live. How does wanting to live bring you this close to killing yourself, whether on accident or on purpose? What am I actually doing that is LIVING and what am I doing that is FACILITATION of living? It can't all be facilitation, or I'm not actually facilitating fuck all.

I'm 30 goddamn years old and I need to figure out what it looks like to actually love my life. I fundamentally refuse to zombify myself like this for everyone else around me forever.

#i really wanted to believe that if i just sat down and did the math i'd be able to figure it out.#but there is literally not enough time in the day for me to do all this.#i suppose i could sleep less. it's...not great for me to get less than 9 hrs a day #but i could probably pull it off for brief stints #a week on a week off or something #get an extra two hours a day that way #and then of course there's my old go to #i could just stop eating or taking care of myself #lord knows it's my well-being that restri ts my time more than anything else #and if i work myself to death like mom did instead of committing suicide at least the life insurance pays out #in case anyone gives wifey inheritance trouble #i already don't eat until dinner so that part won't give me a TON of extra time #but an hour a day at the end of the night to write does sound lovely so it might be worth it #on the weeks i sleep less i could use my 2 extra hours a day to do ingredient prep so that wifey's food doesn't go to waste as much #maybe even work on the garden and the yard's facilities a bit. i have a few projects that need time and attention so those'd fot in #if i cut my pain meds too i could put an extra $50/week back in my budget and i could use that for project supplies and emergency funds #god even thinking about this is making me so tired.#i don't know what this will leave of me #i've been doing this so long now #feels like the last time i remember having a consistent hour to myself every day was my BA sophomore year #and that was the first time too lmao #i'd spent high school waking up at 3am every day after going to bed at 12am because I needed to do my hw in the mornings #my bus left at 7:30am and i had to do all my paper assignments - make myself lunch for the day - wash dishes/tidy the kitchen - and THEN #i could finally make sure i had my shit together for the bus and maybe nap for 5min #then i didn't get home from school until 4pm and i had to fix the kitchen from whatever my parents did before i got back #then make dinner for the family #then clean the living room from whatever the pets had dome all day #then take the dog for her nightly walk and take a shower #and usually sometime after dinner around 9pm I would get permission to run to my room and try to get a head start on my hw before 11pm #that was my lights out curfew so it gave me a blessed single guaranteed hour to do something for me.....assuming i could stay conscious

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the-gay-prometheus · 3 months ago

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#short vent #tw self oof #why is it that when my parents are away and I'm here in this house alone that i end up crying the most and being in the most danger #literally tuesday morning was the closest i came in about 6 years to actually having a plan to commit “jay is no longer with us”#thank god for catra existing to keep that from happening.#and then today now that they've gone to their beach condo for the weekend #I've spent two hours of the four they've been gone laying in bed crying my eyes out #because I got the sudden feeling that i dont have much longer left to live #and because i came to the realization that the world doesnt want me - has never wanted me - and that i was never supposed to be here #which led to the thought that if i did finally die *not* of my own volition Catra would be left here all alone and i can't let that happen.#anyways. make that two and a half hours of four now. catra came and knocked my phone out of my hands while i was typing this #and forced me to hold her head in my hands and wouldn't leave me alone #and then i had a breakdown over trying to explain to her that im not going anywhere yet and that she isn't losing me yet.#anyway so yeah idk. i'm 100% not ok right now. idk what the future holds for me or how much of a future i have left but.#right now i'm here and i am really *really* not ok. probably the furthest from ok actually.

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 1 month ago

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I think the reader's response to this post is probably going to either be "That's incredibly minor" or "Holy shit YES I'M ALSO PROUD", depending on people's personal experiences with academia, but:

Today I am incredibly proud of one of my students.

In the interests of disguising identities, let's call them Ceri. Ceri is one of my third year undergrads (meaning their final year, for anyone unfamiliar with UK uni systems.) They transferred to us last year, and within two weeks I was giving them the contact info to get to Student Services and get themself screened for ADHD; they have some mental health struggles, but I clocked pretty quickly that they STRUGGLE with procrastination, and punctuality, and attending 9am lectures in particular. Naturally, as is the way of my people, it took them a further four months to remember to go to the screening. Lol. Lmao. Rofl, in fact.

But, they did it eventually! Their screening lit up like a Christmas tree at the ADHD section, and they got a free laptop and optional one week extensions and a study support worker named Claire. This has helped tremendously, and although mental health + until-then-unsupported ADHD meant their academic profile had slid sideways somewhat, with the new tools available and a couple of resits they passed the year and hit this year running.

Until, that is, the last fortnight.

Now, I take them for a Habitat Management module that has two assessments: an academic poster presentation before Christmas, and a site-specific management plan in May. Naturally this means we are at that happy point in the year for the poster presentations. I give out the briefs at the start of the year, so they've had them since October; I've also been periodically checking in with them all for weeks, to make sure they don't have any major burning questions. The poster presentation was to pick a species reintroduction project, pull the habitat feasibility study out of it, and then critique that study; Ceri chose to look at the hen harrier reintroductions proposed for the southern UK. All good.

Which brings us nicely to today! Ceri's presentation is scheduled for 2.30. At 11am-1pm, I am lecturing the first years on Biodiversity, while Ceri is learning about environmental impact assessment with a colleague I shall call Aeron. This means we are separately occupied during those same hours.

Nevertheless, Aeron messages me at about 12.

"I think Ceri needs to see you after your lecture," he writes. "They're panicking, I genuinely think they might cry. I'm worried. Are you free at 1?"

I say I am. At 1, I get lunch and sit in the common area; Ceri comes to see me. To my personal shame, imagine all of the following takes place while I stuff my face with potato.

Now: this part is going to be uncomfortably familiar to anyone who has ever tried higher education with ADHD, especially unmedicated. It certainly was for me. All I can say is, I never had the courage to take the step here that Ceri did.

"I have to confess," they said quietly, and Aeron was right, they were fighting back tears. "My mental health has been so, so bad for the last fortnight. I've left it way, way too late. I don't have anything to present."

"Nothing at all?" I asked.

"I've been researching," they said helplessly. "I found loads on the decline of the hen harrier. But it wasn't until last night that I finally found a habitat feasibility study to critique. Generally... I've been burying my head about it, and it just got later and later. I thought I should come in for Aeron's lecture, and I should at least tell you."

This part is a minor thing, right? But honestly, I remember being in the grip of that particular shame spiral. I never did manage to tell my lecturers to their faces. I just avoided. I honestly can't imagine having the courage it took them to come in and tell me this, rather than just staying home and avoiding me.

"I think..." they said hesitantly, "I know I can submit up to a week late, for a capped mark. I think I need to do that, and apply for extenuating circumstances. But then I'll have both Aeron's assignment and yours due at the same time."

Which meant they would crumble under the pressure and likely struggle to pass both; so me, being as noble and heroic as I unarguably am, stopped eating potato and said, "Let's make that plan B."

(It was good potato. I am a hero.)

So, we made plan A: I moved their timeslot to 4.30, giving them three and a half hours. The shining piece of luck in this whole thing was that this was the crunch time assignment - if it had been Aeron's, they'd have had to try and write a 3000 report in that time. But for me, all they had to write was an academic poster, and those things are light on words by design. We found them a Canva template, and then we quickly sketched out a recommended structure based on the brief: if it's habitat feasibility, look at food availability, nesting site availability, and mortality risks in the target release site. Bullet point each. Bullet point how well the study assessed each. Write a quick intro and conclusion. Take notes as you go, and present the poster itself at 4.30.

"You think I should try?" they asked doubtfully, looking like I'd just asked them to go mano-a-mano with a feral badger.

"If you run out of time, so be it," I said. "But your brain is trying to protect you from a non-existent tiger. That's why you've procrastinated - it's been horrible, and you've been shame spiralling, and your brain is trying to shield you from the negative experience; but it's the wrong type of help for this situation! So while you're sitting there working on it, hating life, every time your brain goes 'This is hopeless, I can't do it', you think right back 'Yes I can, it just sucks.' And you carry on. Good?"

"Good," they said. "I'm going to mainline coffee and hole up in the library. Enjoy your potato."

And then, of course, I had to go and watch the other students' presentations, so that was the end of me being any help at all. I spent all afternoon wondering if they were going to manage it, or if I would be getting a message at 4.25 telling me they'd failed, and would have to submit late and hope for an EC.

And Tumblrs

Tumblrs

Let me FUCKING tell you

They turned up at 4.15, fifteen minutes early, wearing a mask of grim, harrowed determination and fuelled by spite and coffee, and they pulled up that poster and started presenting and yes, okay, I'll admit their actual delivery was dramatically unpolished and yes, they forgot to include the taxanomic name for the hen harrier on the poster and yes, fine, I admit that there were more than a few awkward moments where they lost their place in their hastily scribbled notebook but LET ME FUCKING TELL YOU -

They smashed it. It was well-critiqued, it had a map, it had full citations, it had a section on the hen harrier's specific ecology and role in the ecosystem, it had notes on their specific conservation measures. They described case studies they'd read about elsewhere. They answered the questions we threw at them with competence and depth. There was analysis. All that background research they'd done came right to the fore. They were even within the time limit by 15 seconds.

You would never have known they'd produced it in three hours, from a quivering and terrified mess fighting the bodily urge to dehydrate via tear ducts. After they left, the second marker and I looked at each other and went "So that was a 2:1, right?"

I caught up with Aeron downstairs and he was beaming. Apparently Ceri had seen him on their way out, and had gone over to talk to him. Aeron said the difference between the Ceri of this morning and the Ceri of then was like two different people; in four hours, they'd gone from their voice literally breaking as they admitted the problem, ashamed and broken, to being relaxed and happy and smiling.

"I reckon I've passed," they apparently told Aeron, pleased. "Maybe even a 2:2. There's things I wish I'd had the time to do better, but I'll be happy if I passed."

They won't know until late January what they got, because we're not allowed to release marks until 20 term days after hand-in, and the Christmas holidays are about to hit. But I'm really hoping I can be there when they're released.

But mostly, I'm just... insanely proud of them. I cannot tell you how happy I am. And I know, I know, obviously this is not a practice I would want to see them do regularly, or indeed ever again, and it only worked because they were fucking lucky with the assignment format, but like... when life is just punching you in the face, and you hit a breaking point... isn't it nice? That just this once, you pull off a miracle, and it's fixed? The disaster you thought was about to ruin you is gone? To get that relief?

Anyway. Super super proud today.

#I mean I'm often proud of my students of course #the warm fuzzy feeling is one of the best parts of lecturing #but MAN this one got me today #the professional world of careers and tasks #adhd

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ourceliumnetwork · 9 months ago

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i did the biggest and scariest of the things on my list (the last thign on my list in fact) and it took like. MAYBE 5 minutes total including login time navigation and page loading.

now i get to have fancy Oreo Poptarts because i'm a big strong boy whose knee is slightly dislocated (it's fine i just went too hard and i'll wrap it up here in a minute) and did a big scary thing and also now gets to fully devote brain power to anxiety about the (potential) hole between two of my heart chambers and the accompanying doctor's appointment tomorrow morning.

#the lack of anxiety about this has been so bad i don't even have my alarms set and for every other dr appointment previously #i had those bitches up a week ahead of time as soon as they reminded me about my upcoming appointment #anyway it's fine it's all fine i'm going to be fine i'll figure it all out please just don't let me lose my health insurance because i move #i shouldn't but. i fear.#and boy howdy i'm good at one particular thing and that thing is being afeared about things #oh sure my knees are fine for years while i have 3 available knee braces #i pare down to one really solid one with intentions to grab a second at some point in the distant future #and i'm feeling froggy right i'm feeling good everything is a-okie dokie so i lend my remaining knee brace out to my partner for moving shi #(cross country long haul style and they're gonna need it because heavy lifting)#forgetting of course that i'm heading into the part of the month where my joint stability (already tenuous) is reduced even further #thanks estrogen! hhhhhhhh #and i keep doing Up And Downs with squats and kneeling #thankfully it's the knee i call my bad knee even if it's both of them relatively equally nowadays #so i'm used to it being unstable and not great to stand on (and then do it anyway)#i'm mainly trying to keep an eye on it and make sure it doesn't swell up real bad like it did the first time i fucked it #when it earned the moniker of ''bad knee'' out of the two i've got #garrett's knee is fine right now but i'll probably end up bracing it when this one goes back to normal for the compensation i'm doing on it #ohhh bottle of naproxen we're really in it now #thank god it's workable though like so long as i'm In One Position and i don't sit with my leg folded up underneath me it's fine #it means i have fewer Gay And Neurodivergent ways to sit than normal but like i'll deal lmao #i just have to get through tomorrow and then i can rest the whole rest of the week until the move crew gets back up here #and then we will help with this #i'm really grumpy the thing i put off for weeks took like. a couple of clicks and a real quick county check #i really anticipated that being a longer process

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smollsmule · 4 months ago

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Ok ok but you wanna know the real tea?? I've read several beach fics at this point (which are all awesome btw, y'all are amazing writers) and it's a beloved staple to have Edwin be somehwat scandalised at everyone's beach outfits not to mention all flustered from seeing Charles in swim wear. Which is a Good Trope, don't get me wrong, I love that just as much as the next person

HOWEVER

I think actually it's Charles who should be more shooketh about Edwin in his funky lil edwardian two piece!!

Picture this. The year is 1916. You are 16 year old Edwin Payne with a bunch of repressed gay thoughts. Much unpleasantness happens, you die and get dragged to hell, even more unpleasantness happens, 70 years later you finally manage to claw your way up and suddenly women are allowed to vote. There's been not one but two world wars, several countries you grew up reading about in the news don't exist anymore and mini skirts are a thing now.

All I'm saying is, for all the teasing Edwin gets for "What is a handjob?" and "Crystal's internet", this kid was essentially thrust into a scifi world full of weird shit and gets mostly by via an attitude which can only be paraphrases as "fuck it, this might as well be a thing (maybe ask Charles about it later)". King of adaption, master of radical acceptance.

Charles on the other hand, and I say this with only love in my heart, is at his core a boomer. He was there for every tiny gradual shift from '89 to modern day. Sure, he was dead for most of that time, but that's not really relevant. All I'm saying is, seeing the bbc announce marriage equality was probably a bigger shock to Charles than it was to Edwin. That's a guy who already had to accept he will never fully wrap his head around home television.

Also consider the states of undress they've been exposed to seeing the other in. Edwin was stripped to his underwear in hell and still had his knees and elbows covered. And that was probably a more exposing outfit than he'd ever be comfortable with. His usual casual get up features a sweater vest for crying out loud! Meanwhile you have Charles going full 'ceps out in his undershirt first chance he gets. Edwin either got real cool with a lot of shit real fast or he would have combusted several times over those 30 years.

And yes yes, we've all seen Edwin "Haunted By Gay Thoughts" Payne's mental slideshow of abs n hips close ups after getting one (1) glance at the Cat King's stomach. But to his credit, the man was going through a full blown sexuality crisis at that and has since emerged victorious.

So all I'm saying is. Edwin seeing Charles shirtless at the beach? Probably not even the first time this is happening, a lil flustering for sure but just last week he saw two people making out nasty on the tube so hell if he knows. Charles seeing Edwin's kneecaps and upper arms for the first time? Incredible, show stopping, pride and predjudice 2005 hand flex level of suppressed horniness.

Anyway. I'm writing this fic now and none of y'all can stop me.

#dead boy detectives #dbda #Charles Rowland #Edwin Payne #Payneland #dbda meta #smule speaks #Please someone just tell me I am not insane and you can see it too #Charles' Beach Episode TM #smoll smule

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kathaynesart · 9 months ago

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The eye of the hurricane. I like to think Cassandra sometimes called the brothers by the nicknames their dad used, given they were probably pretty close before his passing.

BEGINNING || PREVIOUS || NEXT MASTER POST

Man oh man, this one was way messier and off model than my last few updates but whatever, we got to keep this ball rolling! Life's been crazy so I've had to take some unwanted breaks in between updates. Thanks everyone for your patience as always!

One thing I wanted in this flashback was to really get a sense of how the brothers worked as an experienced team with Leo at the helm as a proper leader. It's something we never got to see much of in Rise and I felt it was important to include since half the team is already gone by the time of Replica. Team Dynamics Ted Talk under the cut!

We know from Casey Jr that Leo stressed the importance of listening to your team. A big part of that also means knowing how to communicate with them in general.

With Michelangelo, he keeps it short and succinct, trusting his brother to know what he's doing when in his element. This trust goes a long way with Mikey, having spent years of his youth as the baby striving for the respect he felt he deserved. Leo knows it's best to not bog Mikey down with details, allowing him to improvise as needed. This unspoken freedom has only grown over time as Mikey has dipped deeper into spiritual arts that, frankly, go completely over Leo's head.

The greatest sacrifice Leo has ever made was read Donnie's Big Book of Bad Guy Codes. While he doesn't remember ALL the numbers, he has memorized the ones that matter and it has helped tremendously in avoiding miscommunication with his genius brother. More importantly it silenced any of Donnie's usual belly-aching. As Leo's "twin"/"equal" the two still butt heads from time to time. Donnie respects his brother's authority (mostly) but will still push the boundaries of what he's allowed on a semi-regular basis. Give Donnie an inch and he will take the mile and then find a loop hole that allows him to go twenty miles more. This is partially due to him often being the one left behind at HQ, making the turtle just a TAD stir crazy. Leo does his best to keep him in line regardless.

Big brother Raph will forever and always be big brother to Leo. As such he holds a place of authority in Leo's heart and is someone he still regularly seeks counsel from in both the ways of leadership and more. Raph is always happy to support his younger brother and does a surprisingly good job (albeit after years of practice) of walking the line so as not to step on his brother's toes in the process. At least not since the secret of "the Key" blew up in their faces several years ago. They don't talk about that anymore. Leo is the leader now and he's done a great job in recent years as far as Raph is concerned. He trusts him to make the right call. The two have a close bond and regularly use mind meld to quickly communicate rather than speak ...this will be important to remember for the future.

Hope that overall feeling came through for this group!

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almadelsur · 2 months ago

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💋 The Turmoil One Suffers

summary: In the second installment of The Secrets One Keeps, a relaxing day on the pogue proves to be anything but, with your inner struggles getting the better of you and JJ hot on your tail.

jj maybank x reader, rafe cameron x reader

warnings: some good old angsty pining, very very slight smut if you squint, fem!reader, talks of suffocation ig? plz let me know if I've missed anything.

a/n: SHE'S BACKKKK, so I've decided to completely reformat and re-post this fic with a few tweaks and editing considering I first wrote this like 3 years ago. Also, for those asking, I won't be doing a taglist for this fic bc I'm lazy and technologically deficient.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

You shouldn’t have been smoking, it made you feel uneasy, paranoid even.

You had found yourself on the pogue in the wake of Pope’s incessant bitching about how you had to make up for ditching them last night. The guilt had made you cave in. As he spoke, all that had flashed through your head was images of Rafe. You on top of Rafe, Rafe with his hands around your neck, the way Rafe’s hair felt between your fingers as you gripped on it when he got messy between your-

“Dude” Sarah’s voice snapped you out of your recurring thoughts.

You turned your head to her as you took a drag of the blunt JJ had rolled, "hmm?"

“I asked if you wanted a beer?”

You checked the time on your phone, 12pm. After enduring 3 hours on this floating nightmare, you decide you're probably deserving of one.

“uh yeah sure.” You took another hit, extending your arm to grab the cold bottle.

You bought the edge of the glass bottle up to your lips and took a swig, letting the liquid wash over your cotton mouth. A swig swiftly turning into a gulp as thirst suddenly became itself known to you. One gulp then turned to two and before you knew it the bottle dried out.

JJ eyed your every move, the feeling that had been bugging him since you got into the Twinkie that morning had now grown into full-blown concern. Your unusual behaviour was deafening with the sounds of alarm bells.

“Thirsty?” He spoke with furrowed brows, prompting Pope to chuckle though no joke had been intended.

Your eyes flickered towards JJ momentarily and instantly you knew what he was thinking. Anger disguised as adrenaline coursed through you.

“Sarah will you pass me another? Mines empty.” Defiance clear in your tone, causing a thick tension to settle over the boat.

“'s a bit it early to start chugging drinks isn’t it?” JJ speaks up again before Sarah has time to respond.

You scoffed as you turned to him once more, maintaining eye contact as you took a long drag from blunt. As you exhaled the smoke, the thick white cloud blurred his features.

“Sarah” you tried again.

You hear a small sigh as she hands you another bottle.

“Thank you” You took another swig at the bottle, hoping the liquid would force down the concoction of guilt and anger that swirled in your mouth.

“So like am I saying words out loud or is it just in my head?” JJ tried, at this point he just wanted a reaction out of you.

“You asked me to come here.” Your tone was snippy, as another burst of smoke entered your system.

“well my mistake clearly.” He was getting pissed off now, and you couldn’t deny the sick satisfaction it gave you. You knew it was unfair, he hadn’t done anything wrong, you just couldn’t help it.

Pope cleared his throat. “This is a whole lotta tension for such a little boat.” He tried to lighten the mood but his joke fell flat.

As you downed your second beer, you took another drag. “It is isn’t it?” You turned to him.

“Maybe you should have some of this JJ, it’ll help you relax.” You threw the blunt in his direction, letting it fall at his feet.

“What the hell crawled up your ass today?” JJ spat at you, picking up the blunt.

The mixture of alcohol and weed infected your system, your breathing became staggered as you suddenly became hyper aware of the layers clinging onto your body.

You don't answer. Instead choosing to stand up and remove your T-shirt. Rafe returned to your mind as you focused on the image of him mimicking your same actions. Your trousers were next to go. You pushed them down whilst picturing Rafe’s hands running down your legs.

Pope eyed Sarah and JJ who’s gaze were trained on you and your movements.

“Whatcha doing there bud?” Sarah asked watching you strip down to your underwear.

“I’m too hot” was all you said, stepping off the edge of the boat and letting yourself plunge into the cool water below you.

As you became completely submerged, you breathed out all of the air in your irritated lungs. Leaving you empty and heavy as you continued to sink. The muffled noises of the water hit against your head yet all you could hear was your thoughts racing.

As the need for air increased, the rush of thought slowed. You liked it. The weightlessness of your body, mixed with the numbing of all of your senses was peacefull. A welcome change from the overdrive your body had been running on for the past year.

You forced yourself to stay down there, pushing your physical boundaries. A split second before completely losing consiousness you emerged again, letting the air penetrate through your system and invade your insides as it worked to reboot your muscles before giving life again to the internal mayhem in your mind again.

You floated with your head above the surface and your back facing the pogues. You couldn’t find yourself to act remotely interested in what they thought about your little show.

JJ in turn felt as though he was slowly loosing his head. He felt dumbfounded because it wasn’t just your behaviour that was different, your entire demeanour and vibe was off and he failed to comprehend what could have happened in the span of 12 hours for you to return to him a complete different person.

Sarah could see the way he looked at you, he was hot on your tail and she panicked trying to divert his calculating eyes from you. “So” she spoke up loud enough so that you could hear and be part of the conversation should you wish to. “Theres a party at my house tonight.”

“Oh really?” JJ answered, evidently uninterested as he continued his stare down with the back of your head.

“Yeah Ward’s out of town with Rose and y'know Rafe, any opportunity he has to get shitfaced he’ll take it.” Relief washed over her as JJ’s eyes finally unglued from you.

At the mention of Rafe your ears perked up.

“Do you guys wanna come?” A devilish grin on her face evident as she spoke.

“A kook party? We wouldn't be welcome.” Pope answered for the three of you, prompting a scoff from Sarah.

“It’s my house too, plus I already threatened Rafe to let me invite you guys. I told him I’d snitch on him otherwise.” She shrugged.

“I’m sure he loved that” JJ added, amused at the thought of antagonising the Cameron boy.

“Well what did he say?” Three pairs of eyes turned to you as you finally spoke up from the water, now facing the boat again.

JJ couldnt help the face that your question caused him to pull. Why did you suddenly care about what Rafe Cameron had to say? Sarah already said they could go so why did it even matter?

“He said whatever as long we stay away from him.” Her answer caused Pope and JJ to roll their eyes. It had been somewhat of a lie though.

Because what Rafe had really said when Sarah had threatened him was, “whatever just stay away from us, and why don't you go ahead and bring that sexy little friend of yours.”

To which Sarah had replied with, “We wouldn’t want to hang out with you and your classist friends anyway. Also, Kiara’s with JJ, and Y/N wouldn’t even touch you with a 10 foot pole so.” Unkowing of the situation between you and Rafe.

Looking back at it now, Rafe’s coy response of “we’ll see” suddenly made much more sense to her as she shuddered slightly in disgust.

“Can’t we take a night off? I mean don’t you guys think we’ve been going a little extra hard recently?” Pope tried to reason as you swam back up towards the boat, forcing yourself on board again.

“I’ll be there.” You interjected as the water ran down your body, soaking the deck of the hms.

“we all will be.” JJ fired back, a confusing swirl of concern and anger towards your attitude fought for dominance within his head.

You ignored him once more and lay back on the sodden deck, letting your persistant introspection rest as the blanket that was intoxication comforted you. You looked up at the clouds and the weighlessness returned. Before you knew it, he sounds of Pope and Sarah chatting drifted away with the soft waves that carried the boat. You lost grip on consciousness as the sun lulled you to sleep.

Around half an hour went by before JJ spoke up. “hey" he double checked you were definitely asleep.

He took your silence as confirmation before turning to the other two. “Y'all saw that right?”

“Saw what?” Sarah played dumb even though he she knew exactly what he was referring to.

“the way she was acting” He whisper shouted, confused as to why no one else seemed remotely worried. “It was like she hated us.” He spoke with the tone of a wounded man.

“Yeah… us.” Pope muttered under his breath.

“I think she’s just tired J, she uh- she had a long night.” Sarah stiffled what had been something between a laugh and a groan.

“Nah guys look- I know her, that wasn’t normal.” JJ didn’t ease up.

“We all know her.” Pope jumped on the defensive.

“c’mon dude it’s not just me, somethings obviously wrong”

At this point Sarah wished for anything to distract him, because as much as JJ wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to academic performance, he most certainly wasn’t dumb. And he definitely knew what he was talking about when it came to you.

“Maybe It’s.. you know..” Pope waggled his eyebrows. “Her time…” he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck “of- of the month?”

“Nice Pope.” Sarah rolled her eyes.

“’s not that. Guys look listen to me somethings definitely wr-“ the ringing of his phone interrupted JJ mid sentence. Saved by the bell. Literally.

JJ grabbed his phone and his frown eased up slightly as he looked at the caller ID.

“Hey baby” his tone made it seem like whatever he had been worrying about softened it’s grip on him at the sound of her voice. “Uh huh, okay give us ten and we’ll be there.” He hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.

“Kie?” Sarah asked, praying he wouldn’t resume his ramble.

“Yeah she’s finished up at the wreck, wants us to go get her.” And with that the subject was dropped.

—————————————————————————

The late afternoon breeze stroked you awake as you suddenly became aware of the voices around you.

Your eyes fluttered open and you stirred where you lay, your body stiff from the 4 hour positioning against the hard wood of the hms. You slowly sat yourself up and threw your T-shirt back on your body before turning back to glance at the now complete group of pogues. Fuck how long had you been out for.

You let your eyes linger on Kiara and JJ a couple of seconds longer than everybody else. He laughed carelessly pulling her tighter against his side. You groaned out quietly and reached for your phone, typing out that damned name.

To Rafe: Having a party and you didn’t invite me? I’m almost offended.

Almost instantly a reply came through.

Miss me already?

You rolled your eyes as he sent you another.

Figured Sarah would open her big mouth, better see you tonight ;)

“Morning Camper.” John B spoke up. You turned around to face him, every single one of them with their attention on you.

“Hey can you take me home?” You directed at no one in particular.

“You don’t wanna stay and hang out?” Kie asked, she wanted to reach you, connect with you.

“I just want to go home” You were irritated and your head hurt, you were certainly in no mood for any of this.

John B was next to try “C’mon man we haven’t all hung out like this in ag-“

“Fuck just take me home” You lashed out. “please” You added in an attempt to soften the blow.

Silence fell over the pogues as John B lifted himself up and steered the boat towards the direction of your house.

As you hopped down you muttered a joyless goodbye to everyone.

“Wait! I’ll walk you in.” JJ peeled himself away from Kiara and followed behind you, slightly speeding as you hadn’t bothered to stop and wait.

He walked beside you, waiting until you were both out of hearing distance from the others.

“why are you angry?” He spoke up.

“I’m not angry.” You tried to walk faster but a calloused hand stopped you.

“Stop. Just stop.” You heard the desperation in his voice as he turned you around to face him. “can you just talk to me? Look whatever I did to piss you off I’m sorry. You just- you were fine yesterday and now all of a sudden you hate us-“

“Stop JJ” You just wanted it to stop. The consequence of your actions pounding down on you with every word that left his mouth.

“Stop what?!” He couldn’t help but shake you.

“Talking! Stop talking!” You shoved him forcefully off of you.

“The hell's wrong with you?! dude I’m worried about you. Today’s just been so weird.” His fingers shoved themselves through his hair, a nervous habit of his.

The familiar lump in your throat began to form at the sight of your best friend.

“I’m tired J.” It wasn’t a lie, you really were fucking exhausted. You were tired of lying, tired of watching the boy you loved love someone else, tired of trudging through your life heartbroken.

“You’re lying.” He shook his head like a disappointed parent. “Why you lyin' to me?”

“JJ. I’m. Tired.” You screwed your eyes shut as your breathing began to quicken “I’m not lying I’m just-“

“Okay alright.” His embrace cut you off. “I believe you.” He hated seeing you upset. Having known you practically his whole life, he also knew that nothing ever got resolved when you got like this, so he dropped the subject.

You almost broke down then and there, using everything you had in you to move your arms around him, hugging him back.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, the meaning behind your words far greater than he could realise.

“Hey it’s okay, we all have off days right?” He let go of you and gave you a small smile.

“Right.” Your remained court and quiet.

“I’ll see you tonight. Go rest for a bit okay?”

You nodded and began to walk away before his voice stopped you once more.

“Yo” You turned to see that he had shoved his hands in pockets. “You’d tell me if something was wrong right?” He hated that he even had to ask.

“Mhm, course” You lied straight through your teeth before turning and walking away from him uninterrupted. You knew that as soon and as your bedroom door closed behind you, you’d sink down into a pit of despair and loathing.

Whilst the resolution had given him a little comfort, something deep inside told him that this wasn’t the end of it.

Perhaps he should have left things alone, maybe then things wouldn’t have escalated to extent that they were about to.

So as he watched you walk away, JJ stood there unknowing of what was to come. Unknowing of the way things were about to change between you forever.

#jj maybank #rafe cameron #jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron x reader #jj maybank x you #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader x jj #outer banks #obx #jj maybank angst #bsf!jj maybank

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