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zeppeli-reelstallbun · 3 days ago

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A Jury of One

Prologue - Chapter 1

[PAIRING] Gyro Zeppeli x Reader (She/Her AFAB)

[SUMMARY] Do you tell them? Should you explain why you kept your gender a secret? Did you even really need to? No… Gyro and Johnny had proven long ago they were your friends, you didn't need to keep this big of a secret from them for this long… but surely they have things they don’t tell you either.

It wasn’t the kind of thing you could decide in just a few minutes, but thanks to your tendency to ‘worry about things later,’ you were now worrying about it later.

YOU ARE NOW WORRYING ABOUT IT AT PRESENT

[WC] 3.4k

[!!!] Same as prologue + more smoking, alcohol, and language. Reader smokes a bit y’all (lets go substances!)

[AN] still doing blinkers for this part bc fuck it, why not combine the total (might regret this) nothing else to say, have fun folks.

The inn was small, rustic in a way that made you feel like you could curl up and fall asleep with a cozy book if you were visiting under different circumstances. The walls creaked with age, scent of wood and dried herbs lingering in the air, mixed with a faint trace of smoke from the hearth. Johnny was already inside, having made himself comfortable as he chatted to the innkeeper about rooms.

Though you didn't spot him at first, you could almost instantly feel Gyros presence behind you like a shadow that refused to be shaken off. You’d hoped for a few moments of alone time while Johnny got the lodging, maybe even a chance to unwind before facing Gyro, but there was no avoiding it. You could smell the faint aroma of liquor on him as the weight of his words echoed in your mind—We're gonna need to have a little chat, bella. Just us. The hairs on your neck stood up at the thought.

Johnny tossed a look over his shoulder, smiling his usual grin, but there was something in his eyes now. Like he was hiding something.

“Two rooms,” He announced over the murmur of patrons in the lobby, sliding the money over when the innkeeper gave him the keys. “One for me, one for these two.” He looked back at Gyro with a smile. “They only had two left, first come first serve.”

Your face dropped as he continued.

“Like Auggie said, figure I don't owe you that much since I didn’t actually steal first. Besides, I have to take the ground floor of course.” He gestured down to his legs, shit eating grin plastered ear to ear. “You gonna be okay without me?”

This. Bitch.

It's not like he knew exactly what he was doing, but still.

You glanced at Gyro, his eyes fixed on you and lips still stuck in that smug smile of his. “I think we’ll manage,” he said softly, voice carrying a note of something more intimate than the words suggested.

Again, Johnny didn't seem to notice; he grabbed his key and headed off without a second thought. It was then you exhaled a breath you didn't know you were holding, thankful for at least one stressor to leave the situation.

But, you should have known it wouldn’t last. The moment Johnny was out of sight, Gyro moved in, free hand gripping your wrist just light enough to feel like it was more a suggestion than a demand. He didn't yank you, didn’t force you, but the pressure was unmistakable. “You and I,” he started, voice low and deliberately calm, “are going to go to our room and talk now. Ok?” Something in his gaze was as unyielding as ever, but now it felt as though you were more vulnerable. You were trapped, even.

He didn’t wait for an answer. Hand still holding you, he led you up the stairs, wood creaking beneath your feet. The crowded murmurs of the inn seemed to swallow up the space around you as he guided you to the second floor, and you didn’t speak as he stopped at the door to your room.

It was dim inside, you noticed, only lit by the soft glow of the streetlamps creeping in from the window. The bed was made, though outrageously low to the ground, and your attention was caught by the curtains blowing gently in the breeze. It smelled faintly of dust, and it took everything in you not to sneeze at first. The air felt heavy for other reasons, however, and it was beginning to feel like it was something you couldn’t ignore.

Gyro stepped inside first, hand still lightly wrapped around your wrist as he pulled you in with him. The door closed with a soft thud, leaving you completely alone, the weight suffocating you.

Each beat of your heart was now pounding in your ears. “You might not be good at hiding things,” he began, dropping your wrist and turning away from you. “But I’m not the type to push too hard… not unless you make me.”

He was going back to the door. “So here’s the deal. You make up your mind while I get us dinner. Either leave, leave both of us right now or lock the door so I can’t come in and I’ll never utter a word… not to Johnny or another soul. But- just- don’t give me a reason to find another way to get the truth out of you.”

He paused, grabbing the door handle. “Or tell me what exactly you’ve been hiding and why, and I’ll let it go.”

You wanted to speak, wanted to say something to get him to return to the Gyro you knew three weeks prior… the Gyro who casually threw misogyny around like you were one of the guys. But it was too far beyond that now. You knew that.

Besides, he had shut the door before you even had time to process the thought.

——

You didn’t hesitate with your decision, you kept the door unlocked.

When Gyro returned, you couldn’t help but notice your mouth watering at the smell of the food in his hands. The look on his face suggested he was more amused than concerned, and his words confirmed that hypothesis. “Well you’re still here which means you decided talking was better than running-”

He set the plates down with a light thud, eyes drifting towards your body slumped upright on the bed, bandana still in place. He let out a light chuckle, leaning back against the doorframe.

“Y’know,” he started, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “it’s funny. You’ve been with us this long, but not once have you eaten in front of me and Johnny. Every meal? Alone.” His eyes glinted with the implied accusation. “I won't tell him until you want to, but you seriously didn't think you could hide it forever, did you?” He paused, narrowing his eyes while scratching his neck, and added, “I figured you were keeping something a while ago, but…” He trailed off, voice dropping lower, like he was still processing the realization.

You let out one final sigh, reaching up to untie the fabric that obscured your face and hair. It was as if everything you’d been holding unraveled in a single go, the charade finally coming to its end as the locks fell to your shoulders. Well… almost everything.

“Yeah? Well, I haven’t been able to fucking smoke in front of you either,” you snapped, voice dropping into a rougher tone you hadn’t heard from yourself in weeks. You sat up, pulling a cigar from the front pocket of your jacket. You couldn’t help the dry smirk that found itself on your lips as you leaned back into place, eyes locked with his expression of shock. “I know you just brought me dinner, but is it too much to ask for a light?”

Gyro froze for just a moment, eyes narrowing at the request. But then, it was as if his legs moved themselves, body unable to deny your request as he began to search through his pockets, taking a knee to meet your height at the bedside.

You could feel his gaze wandering as he idly searched for his matches, and you could practically see his face work through his own emotions on the subject. What surprised you the most, however, was the way his eyes were beginning to make your pulse spike. ‘This is real now,’ they were basically screaming to you, ‘there’s no changing the way I’ll look at you from this day on.’

He exhaled slowly as he brought his hands up to ignite your cigar, expression still a mix of disbelief and amusement. “I had a feeling for a while, you know,” he muttered under his breath, as if he were speaking something blasphemous.

“I know,” you reassured instantly before inhaling a long drag, taking care to blow the smoke away from his face.

It was still dangerously close to yours, after all. The bed you sat on—if you could even call it that—was ridiculously low to the ground. A futon, more than anything else. This was the reason Gyro had taken a knee beside you as he searched his person, you recognized. What you had just noticed, however, was the fact that he hadn’t moved from the bedside after lighting the match. In fact, he had fallen down onto the floor even further, now sitting back on both of his knees in front of you. His eyes studied you, like he was still looking for the truth.

You didn’t want to give him any more satisfaction. “What, are you disappointed?” you asked, breaking the silence and taking another puff of the cigar.

“No,” he whispered instantly, “just wouldn’t have guessed you were a smoker.”

His lopsided smile was back as soon as the words left his mouth. You couldn’t help but fall victim to the contagiousness of his charm, a similar grin sneaking to your cheeks unintentionally. You sat up in that moment, tossing your feet onto the floor in front of him so the two of you could speak face to face.

“Would you rather I had been lying the whole time?” You quipped as you leaned forward.

Silently, the man cocked his head. He narrowed his eyes at the cigar in between your fingers, sighing as he held out his hand. You scoffed as you extended it to him.

“How were you not lying the whole time?” He asked as he brought it to his lips.

You noticed he also practiced the courtesy of blowing smoke away from others, not that you were trying to pay attention to his habbits. You nervously scratched your forearm as you breathily replied, “well… you guys did just assume.”

“But you never corrected us-” he cut himself off with a grimace, “you went out of your way to appear like…that. Don’t fucking start with that excuse.”

You winced at the pause, at the careful phrasing. “Can you even blame me Gyro?” You snapped back, voice more tense than intended.

“No but-”

You cut him off. “But I should have told you?”

He didn’t quip again right away, which admittedly you might have done. Instead, Gyro let the silence sit for a moment, taking a slow breath with clenched fists. After what felt like an eternity, he simply replied, “You should have.”

He was calm, too calm. You needed to be careful, you realized. What could you even say in response to that? He was right, and you probably should have… if your gender was the only factor to consider. What excuse could you give other than the truth? Could you even tell him that? No. But you could use fragments of it.

“Gyro, when we met,” you started, taking a needed breath before continuing slowly, ”I didn't think we were gonna become… this… at first. Not just you, Johnny as well. We were traveling together by happenstance, and you didn’t even like me when I first tagged along. Johnny is more my friend, and I don’t think it's harsh to say that. You would have left me out dry if it weren't for that boy—I didn't think you needed to know.”

Yeah, you could have phrased that better.

“Fuck off,” he snapped at first, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. Another sigh, “I get it, I do. But there was a moment you realized you were staying. I can get not wanting to tell me,”

He cut himself off, but it was pointless. You knew how the sentence was going to end. ‘Why not tell Johnny?’

You tried to push the irritation in your voice aside, after all, you shouldn’t be upset with him. You thought carefully about what to say as he took another puff of the cigar. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to breach the subject for a while, Gyro. Did you ever think about that?”

You could have been kinder with your tone of voice—those last six words were admittedly a bit harsh.

“That's rich. Sure, I can pretend to buy that.” He understandably quipped back after exhaling with a roll of his eyes. “And if that is the case-”

You cut him off before he could continue, emotion taking over. “You think I haven’t noticed you noticing?”

“What?”

“I asked if you think you’ve been subtle about it, Zeppeli.” You tried to keep your tone calm, level headed, as if not to implode when he inevitably pushed for more.

“So what, you were just gonna keep dancing around it then? How long have you known?” He replied.

“I should be fucking asking you that, Gyro. God, how long have I just been making a fool out of myself?” You said, reaching your hand out to ask for your cigar back.

“That doesn’t matter and you know it.” He noted sternly, brushing his fingertips against yours as he returned the small roll of paper.

You closed your eyes as you brought it to your lips, but you hesitated, instead opting to explain yourself. “Doesn’t matter? You've been putting me through this crisis for weeks, Gyro. I just didn’t want to bring it up in case I was misreading things.”

“No? Don't try me with that bullshit. Why not just tell me?” He pleaded, voice getting tenser.

“Because no one can know!” You finally admited without realizing, “Im in the race under a pseudonym and its not your fucking business to ask why yet. I can’t-“ your breath hitched, tears beginning to form in your eyes as you recalled the reason for your anonymity. You weren't going to cry over this, not in front of him, so instead you indulged in another hit. If Gyro wanted to say something, he could say something.

But he didn’t. Not at first. Why did you tell him that? The phrasing implied that you would be open to him asking in the future. Did you do that on purpose? You exhaled, passing the cigar back before the man could ask for it. Once the smoke had cleared, you found the courage to look back at him, meeting his gaze. There was something else in his eyes now, you hoped it was a begrudging sense understanding.

“It doesn’t matter,” he started softly through gritted teeth, eyes shut, “but I’ve had a pretty good feeling since the Diego fiasco, before he took the eye, before we… you know… went reptilian. I’d still say much earlier than that though. I wasn’t certain until this afternoon.”

It was your turn to let the silence linger now, did he expect congratulations on his subpar detective work? Please let this be it, you thought, please don’t ask anything else.

“I shared something I didn’t want to. Now its your turn to return the favor.” Fuck.

“What else do you want me to say?” You snapped. “‘Good job on your observation skills, Gyro, I’ve been a girl this whole time?’ What, do you want a prize for figuring it out before Johnny did?” You knew you were just being defensive, but there wasn’t much controlling you to stop it.

The man in front of you just sighed, disappointed, “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“Gyro,” You pleaded as he stood up, turning to walk away. Was this it? Was he going back to Johnny to explain the trio was now down a member?

He halted, turning for the table instead of the door. “Is August even your real name? In the race under a pseudonym, hm? So I assume not.” He grabbed the bottle of whiskey he’d purchased earlier, using his other hand to pick up the flask he’d tossed aside.

“Gyro,” you started again, getting ready to launch into some semblance of an explanation.

He cut you off this time, turning around to look down at you. “What I’m saying is… there’s more to this than you being a woman and you know it. How am I supposed to believe anything you’ve told us in the past month,” he took a step closer to you before looking at the bottle in his hand, “are you even old enough to drink this shit?”

‘You didn’t share something on par with what I could tell you.” This was all you could think to say.

“What?”

You sat up, going into an explanation, “What you said about sharing something you didn’t want to. That was something I deserved to know. You deserved to know my truth in the first place. We’re even now, as far as I’m concerned.”

A Grimace. Silence. He tossed the flask on the bed, dragging the table and stool over to you. “So, if I share something else, you’d be willing to tell me more?”

It was your turn to question his words. “What?”

“Trust is a two way street… and whatnot.” He said, shaking his head at himself as soon as he closed his mouth.

It must have been the way he said it, if not the way he reacted to it, you couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped through your lips. He smiled, taking a seat as he waited for your response.

You weren't ready for that yet, besides, you were enjoying the break in tension. “I’m old enough to drink, I didn’t lie about that. Are you young enough to pour?” You asked through your smile.

“Oh I’m not that much older than you, am I, regazza?” He said with a ‘tsk,’ opening the bottle of liquor while leaning forward.

You laughed, choosing not to respond as he slid the glass towards your extended hand. He pulled it back at the last second, however. “We need to lay some ground rules first. No?”

“Ground rules?” You questioned.

“Well for starters, how much of this do I feel comfortable keeping from Johnny?” He set the glass back, casually out of your reach.

“I wasn’t ready to tell you yet,” you started, babbling.

“Ah but you said it yourself,” Gyro cut you off, “he’s more of a friend than I am. You know you’d get a warmer reception if he were the one in this room right now.”

You said nothing, it was true.

“But you probably also knew he wouldn’t keep his mouth shut about it, especially not with me.”

You nodded. He wouldn’t.

“But still,” the man continued, “he’s my friend. So we do this under one condition.”

You sat back, willing to hear him out. “Which is?”

“You tell him by the next checkpoint.”

“By the end of the race.” You instantly retaliated.

He shook his head. “By the next two checkpoints.”

You scoffed, shaking your head at his stubbornness. “He wouldn’t even need to know if it weren't for you.”

“You probably would have told him weeks ago if it weren't for me.” He said instantly, softly, with a look in his eyes that made you feel… guilt?

You clenched your jaw, knowing that he wasn’t just spewing bullshit. You probably would have told him if Gyro weren't in the picture.

“Two checkpoints,” you agreed after a moment's silence, taking a breath to come to terms with Gyros logic, “I’ll tell him I’m a girl but nothing else. Anything else is sworn to secrecy. Those are my terms.”

He smiled as he nodded, silently agreeing, amused. “You never answered my question.”

What the fuck did he want now? “Be more specific.”

Another ‘tsk’ slipped through his teeth before he answered. “A secret for a secret. I'm being generous here, I have a feeling I deserve to know more, bugiardo.”

You rolled your eyes. “If you pass me my drink, fine. A secret for a secret, Gyro.”

He smirked, leaning on his elbows as he slid the glass towards you, smile growing wider as he reveled in the opportunity you’d created.

Squinting, he watched your face closely, as if getting ready to observe your reaction. With just four words, his usual dramatic timing, and a shit eating grin, it was his turn to subvert your expectations.

“That’s not my name.”

——————

Aaand yeah i already want to write more

Idk how many more dialogue buffers i can write, how do y’all do this

Critique welcome, still new to this whole thing after all !!

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ppookieboo · 9 months ago

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My little shiny star🤩🤩

#bojan cvjetićanin #joker out #kris gustin #nace jordan #jure maček #jan peteh #i think they didn't need that much light but ok #O2 shepherd bush

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jesteringbug · 1 year ago

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this was funnier in my head tbh

#ok so like here is an explanation if the thought didn't come across if anyone needs it #ok so like you know that meme going around with light and L from death note that goes like 'i know what you are' and because #i have number four infections i had to apply that to my pookie and so like riddle goes to cater saying that he knows what he is(ie bisexual)#and cater thinking that he is talking about his self-sabotage tendencies and him being low-key a people pleaser #.......#sorry i put too much thoughts in my shitposts #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #disney twst #cater diamond #riddle rosehearts #my art #mine

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fridgedeeznuts · 2 years ago

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#lasso the sun.#THE ONLY THING IM CONSISTENT AT IS BEING INCONSISTENT #will probably hate this tmrw but lets go ig???#can't wait to perform an autopsy w fresh eyes #sigh ok here we go: most successful thing is the planar differentiations on the face #the hair is sloppy - u can tell it was a 2nd hand thought that didn't have much priority; the rhythmical beats to the forefront bangs #are very static #i think i made the eyelids too dark it almost looks like eh's got a black eye though the issue may alsobe that the reflective light on the #bottom ridge of the brow is too light #there's also an issue with his lips curving appropos but this is smthing i need to work on in general #by keeping in mind large planar differentiation and how much will show and won't show in accordance to the overall egg shape shifting away #not gonna even talk abt hiis beard bc i clearlywasn't really thinking when i put it in

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hermitw · 1 month ago

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I swear that weird thing Gojo was doing w his hands was just stimming bc he was nervous but Fushiguro was judging him so hard for it. Even 10 years later

And that the blindfold is a pressure stim

Yuuji eating too much ice cream until he throws up might be stimming, or the struggle to switch between activities, or that he doesn't rly get the "hey maybe it's time to stop eating signal", but I'll guess it's a combination of all 3.

Autism in JJK Part 1 (Isolation and Movies)

Notes before we start.

1) Read the light novels. They are the equivalent of Bleach's CFYOW for JJK. There is a fan translation (Book 1 & Book 2), but I will be citing the official translation from my own copies.

2) I will be mainly using the TCB scans for the manga because of their accessibility.

3) Read the light novels.

(Click images for captions/citations.)

Preface

Dungeon Meshi is heralded as The ultimate story of incompatible autisms. Everyone recognizes Laois and most of his party as autistic. Each of these characters are able to use their specific types of autism to solve problems throughout the series.

Laois’s autistic traits in particular have drawbacks when it comes to others’ perception of him. To directly quote one of the best Dungeon Meshi text posts on this site:

“Dungeon Meshi is about a quirked up white boy on a quest to save his sister and perhaps indulge his special interest along the way. He's a man of pure heart who has done nothing but help anyone he's met. Then part way through the story you start seeing other pov characters and it turns out every single person who has met him outside his party has read his awkward social skills and love for grilling as a sign of something deeply evil and has vowed to kill him on sight.”

Using Laois as a reference, I want to argue that Jujutsu Kaisen is the penultimate story of incompatible autisms.

Addendum/Disclaimer

I’m heavily drawing from experiences with my particular brand of autism for this analysis, so I’m bound to not properly consider everything. My words should not be taken as gospel since autism is a wide spectrum that manifests differently for each individual. Certain autistic traits will show up for one person and be completely absent in another. (And I personally think JJK does a great job of showcasing this variation.)

There is also significant overlap between Autism and ADHD which I’m not qualified to make connections with. (Basically if you have ADHD feel free to explain how you see yourself in these characters too.) There’s probably other readings that have flown over my head, but please understand I’m not trying to be malicious.

The main traits I’ll be referencing are:

Social Unawareness

Bluntness (and it being perceived as rudeness)

Taking Things Literally

Double Empathy Problem (the non-autistic and the autistic have a hard time understanding each other’s way of thinking and therefore struggle to communicate with each other)

Emotional Blindness/Alexithymia (difficulties with understanding and articulating one's emotions)

Hyperfixations

Special Interests

(Stimming is left out because of Tumblr's 30 image limit. Someone else can make that post for me.)

Mahito’s Autism

Strange title section right? Allow me to defend it. Mahtio’s Domain Expansion (DE) Self-Embodiment of Perfection is localized from 自閉円頓裹 (Jihei Endonka). The first two kanji 自閉 (Jihei) create the Japanese word for Autistic. Where 自 (Ji) is self and 閉 (Hei) is close/shut. The Japanese word for Autism is 自閉症 (Jiheisho) where 症 (sho) means disease. A very literal translation of Jiheisho is “self-shut disease”.

Equating autism to an illness that causes one to shut themselves inwards is flawed in its framework, but not wrong in describing the unique isolation autistic people face. If the kanji used didn’t clue you in, Japanese society is much more hostile to the autistic than English speaking countries. This is in part due to many autistic traits being seen as socially unacceptable for deviating too much from the norm.

There’s been a whole study on this if you want to know more. (This study allowed for self-diagnosed people to participate and included non-binary gender options, so I’m comfortable using it.) Quoted directly from the source:

“Many autistic individuals engage in social camouflage and attempt to use social interaction to obtain job opportunities and other benefits. The aforementioned ‘need’ of autistic individuals to engage in social camouflage forces them to continuously pretend that they are non-autistic. This is associated with significant manifestations of mental health deterioration, such as depression, generalised anxiety, social anxiety, suicide attempts, and burnout because of exhaustion and fatigue.”

“Markus and Kitayama refer to Japanese and other East Asian cultures as ‘cultures of interdependence’. In these cultures, the primary challenge faced by individuals is to conform without standing out and pay more attention to others than oneself. Thus, the ‘uniqueness’ of autistic people can be perceived negatively, and it can threaten relationships and interpersonal harmony within the community.”

Now what does discrimination against autistic people have to do with Mahito? Well, everything. Mahito manifested as the hatred between humans, making them unique within the Natural Disaster Curses group. This causes friction in their relationships with the other curses, mainly Jogo.

When Dagon dies, Jogo mourns. When Hanami dies, Jogo and Dagon mourn. When Mahito learns about this? They react like this.

Totally not appropriate for the situation. You could chalk it up to them being a curse, but the other curses have already shown they’re capable of caring deeply for each other.

This isn’t the only instance of it either. In the light novels, Mahito really gets into movies to better understand humans which results in this.

Jogo simply does not know what to do with Mahito becoming a filmbro.

Jokes aside, Mahito is using movies and other forms of media to better understand people not like themself. And despite their efforts to better grasp emotions, this causes Mahito to become even more alienated from his peers. He’s in his own little bubble and his way of thinking is boon when fighting but a bane for his relationships. There’s something very autistic about that.

Shared Special Interests

On the flipside, Mahito’s movie and book fascination causes them to create a bond with a blind homeless old man that lives under a bridge. But it’s only because the two of them have this interest in common.

As stated in CFYOW, JJK Summer of Ashes, Autumn of Dust Chapter 3: Allegory in Darkness, Mahito has canonically read Kafka.

And that line at the end. “It makes talking to you easy.” This is the same phrase Mahito uses when grooming Junpei. Though Mahito’s relationship with Junpei is one of manipulation, it started as something rather innocent—they both went to the theater, saw the same movie, and were annoyed by the people disrupting their viewing experience.

That small connection, their shared interest in movies caused them to bond quickly and Mahito used it for manipulation. (This is not unlike how minors in fandom spaces can be groomed by the adults around them.)

Mahito learned how to be this way in part by studying media and applying it to their actions. They can’t interact with most humans 1-on-1, so their main source of understanding them is media, which gives them this warped sense of reality. Think Plato’s Allegory of the Cave. Mahito doesn’t know better because this is all they know.

It’s no wonder they conclude that humans at the core are creatures that eat, sleep, and rape (Ch 49 Pg 18 Sorry I ran out of image space). Think of how many “the joke is sexual assault” type characters there are in Japanese media alone. (Let’s not ignore how bad it gets in American 80s comedies too.)

Mahito is essentially a blank slate with no frame of reference for morals, critical analysis, or media literacy in general. It’s not very surprising they take everything at face value and then use it for evil.

And that’s why I wanted to discuss them first. Mahito is a reflection of humans and their reaction to media has echoes in how other characters, who are probably autistic, navigate their relationships with themselves and other humans.

Itadori Yuji’s Autism

When I say Yuji is pure and the goodest boy in the world, I’m referring to the unbridled autistic joy in which he interacts with the world. He’s not much different than Laois from Dungeon Meshi. The way Yuji introduces himself to others is unhinged. He frequently does and says things that are not socially appropriate in the slightest. Whatever comes to mind first he acts on, no filter.

But being unhinged isn’t necessarily autistic. What gives this the ‘tism is the socially inept internal logic that goes into Yuji’s decision making. Dudebros may refer to it as locking in, but it is better known as hyperfocusing. You give Yuji a task and he Will complete it, anything in his way be damned.

Ijichi gave Yuji a task. Figure out if this person is an enemy and make sure nobody gets hurt. Interrupting a convo and pantsing a guy to complete this task is Yuji autistically logicing his way around setbacks. What’s a non-violent way to get someone to leave? Stealing their pants, probably. Things like social rules don’t matter if lives are at risk.

Don’t believe that’s socially-blind autistic logic? Let me give you this guy from 4Chan and myself as an example. As a child I was told I should never lie no matter what. At 8 years old, I did something that upset my teacher. I didn’t know I had upset my teacher until I was asked to write an apology letter by my parents. So in my little pea brain, I had no reason to apologize because that would be lying. I then wrote something along the lines of, “I’m only writing this apology because my parents are making me.” (I got yelled at for this which confused me even more. What do you mean you want me to lie, mother???)

You can see this kind of logic with the finger eating especially. Yuji took Megumi’s words very literally and ate a mummified human finger because that’s what was needed to save lives. This isn’t a one off thing either, it keeps happening over and over—Yuji taking the most literal interpretation of the words spoken to him and acting on them in the most autistic way possible.

I love the Nanamin alert especially because only Idatori Yuji would think to do that. It also a neat showcase of the double-edged sword that can come from autism. Yes, Yuji effectively and quickly relays important information to his allies, but to their enemies as well. He also does it in a way that gets him bopped on the head by Megumi. Kind of like how going along with Gojo’s plans has him bullied by his classmates.

This happens a lot too—Yuji doing what others tell him to do, filling in the blanks when they fail to elaborate on the how to, and it backfiring.

There is nothing more autistic than doing exactly as you are told and getting punished for it.

Nanami tells Yuji not to call him Nanami-sensei. But he doesn’t tell Yuji what exactly to call him instead, so he guesses. And since Yuji is socially unaware to a degree, he comes up with Nanamin instead of the Nanami-san that would’ve been more polite.

Megumi and Panda tell Yuji to lie. But lying isn’t in his nature so he really sucks at it. Pretending he doesn’t know who Gojo is because 1) he was told to lie and 2) Gojo is a part of the group Yuji is was explicitly told not show any familiarity with, is peak autism logic.

It’s all a part of Yuji’s charm though. Despite his autistic traits getting him into plenty of trouble, they also are a big reason as to why everyone loves him.

Yuji’s Autistic Rizz

Yuji seems to mirror other people both to better understand them and because he’s relying on them to show him how he’s supposed to act. (More on that here.) Most of the time this is played for comedic effect, but sometimes it results in instant pair-bonding. I think that’s the autism-to-autism connection being made. (It’s also known as the morphogenetic field if you’ve played 999.)

Just like how Mahito used movies to bond with Junpei, Yuji does it too. But he uses this shared interest for good and provides a counter to Mahito’s grooming.

And lookie here, he can even utilize his love of movies to bond with people who aren’t into them at all. Junpei’s mom may not get it, but she’s endeared by it. This unparalleled autistic rizz is fundamental to Yuji’s character. And in my opinion, his relationship with Todo Aoi best showcases this.

Everyone knows that Todo and Yuji’s shared love of tall women with big butts is what brought them together. But what’s most overlooked is the specific tall woman with a big butt that made this possible in the first place. Before Todo even asks Yuji for his type, Yuji makes it known he is aware of who Takada is. (He happened to see her on TV as stated in CFYOW, JJK Summer of Ashes, Autumn of Dust Ch 4 Pgs 89–90. Ijichi is the secret Takada fan.)

Takada is who prompts Todo into asking. She is also the one who appears in Todo’s delusions, guiding him to victory and driving most of the reasons behind his actions. With great confidence I can say Todo’s special interest is Takada. (And most of the fanbase assumes he’s autistic, so I don’t feel the need to explain that more.)

And what’s crazy about his special interest of his is that it fudging works. Takada and his love for manga help Todo create successful strategies. I include his love of manga because his fakeout with Mahito is a Hunter x Hunter reference.

It’s a bit spoilers to discuss how exactly this is genius, but you’ll have to trust me when I say it’s very clever. Rather than simply nodding to the source material, Todo is using the twist reveal from that scene and subverting it to help Yuji win.

This is nearly identical to Laois utilizing his special interest monster knowledge to create victories out of what would be defeats for other characters. Todo weaponizes his autism in a way that works perfect for sorcery.

But when it comes to interpersonal relationships? It destroys them. Everyone who isn’t Yuji hates Todo.

Todo Aoi is second to Gojo Satoru when it comes to characters considering him the greatest source of stress. (Momo, Mai, and Kamo with Kokichi dedicating pages 43–46 of CFYOW JJK Thorny Road at Dawn, Chapter 2 to how much Todo stresses him out.)

They’re most annoyed with him when he talks about his special interest—Takada. She is a huge reason as to why Todo is such a good sorcerer, you could even call her The Reason he’s so good. People rely on him quite literally weaponizing his autism. But when he starts being autistic outside of sorcery? They don’t tolerate it.

This is a recurring problem for autistic sorcerers. The very people that depend on their weaponized autism will scorn it the moment it no longer serves them directly. It’s a very Not In My Backyard (NIMBY) mentality. Sure they want all the benefits but keep the drawbacks out of their sight.

Yuji’s Loneliness

Just like Todo, Yuji suffers from social disconnect due to his autism. He feels like he struggles to understand and connect with others on a deeper level. His own feelings and other people’s feelings are sometimes a mystery to him.

On a surface level Yuji seems to be on the same wavelength as Junpei through their shared love of movies. That is until they fight each other. Yuji doesn’t understand that Junpei is acting out of grief at the start of their fight. He says something insensitive at first, but he eventually asks Junpei to spell things out so he can understand what’s going on.

It takes until the end of the Sukuna fight for Yuji to truly connect with someone—Megumi. But it’s only because they both make their feelings known directly to each other. Before that though? As discussed earlier, the autistic traits that make him good at sorcery are often off-putting to others.

I mentioned how Yuji mirrors others in what seems to be an attempt to understand others in that post I linked. In the same one I also discuss how Yuji is able to decenter himself and sync up with just about anyone. With respect to his autism, this really reads like masking to me.

When Yuji lets that mask slip and indulges his personal hobbies, it’s a toss up on whether or not he’ll be accepted or rejected. The movies that allowed him to pairbond with Junpei don’t work for everyone. Just like Mahito with Jogo…being a filmbro causes friction with Megumi and Nobara.

Though Yuji otherwise gets along very well with Megumi and Nobara, there is something so very relatable and sad about seeing this particular hobby of his being trashed. What’s worse is that the 2 people who would’ve matched his freak in this regard are both dead: Junpei and the one who intensified this interest of his in the first place—Gojo Satoru.

Gojo Satoru’s Autism

I must confess, this entire post got written because of this anonymous ask I was sent a while ago. I was surprised to get it since I assumed everyone understood Gojo to be autistic by default like Laois Dungeon Meshi. So I’m going to copy and paste this anon’s words because all their observations are correct.

"As someone with Autisim, I heavily identify with how he was raised (the gifted child who is too observant vs the prophesied child who was raised to be a weapon first) and the way other react around him (treating everything he says and does with disdain)

I find the way he clings so strongly to the idea of strong and weak even after Geto and Toji yet still having a sense of justice/ noticing the unfairness of it all, his sensitivity issues, his ability to notice emotional cues yet not having the means to respond in an allistic way, his tendency to take his jokes and teasing too far/ act too close to people, and the general othering of him just screams autism to me. Like can see a lot of those traits which is usually tamped down by society being exasperated because, what are you going to do, he is the strongest, you can't just tell him off in a serious way, not when, in your society, the strong rule.

I see it especially with his students, where he's taken in all the misfits and is so casual with them in day to day life. Even him throwing them in the proverbial deepend with missions is probably how he was taught by his clan before entering jujitsu tech."

And directly from Gege via the special Gojo Booklet.

"Q25: born and raised as a high-born, he is regaled by both himself and others are the strongest, and he seems to have want of very little, but what would you consider Gojo's weakness?

A25: His personality.

Q26: what would you consider Gojo Satoru's most intrinsic strength, when you put aside his innate abilities, influence, and physical prowess?

A26: His personality."

Thank you Gege for stating it so bluntly. The part of Gojo’s personality that is both strength and weakness. Something that makes him a great sorcerer and socially isolated. That’s the autism.

Now that we (that anon) has established that Gojo Satoru is definitely autistic, let’s go over how this has affected his interpersonal relationships.

Improper Socialization

The Gojo Booklet has forever ruined me. Deep in my heart, I knew this was going on, but to have everything confirmed so bluntly is something else. To summarize:

Gojo was born and raised in Kyoto by an extremely closed-off traditionalist family. His Clan treated him as an investment rather than a person, focusing on his education as a sorcerer and neglecting him emotionally to create the perfect living weapon. It’s implied he was educated privately and did not attend a school with other people until high school. It’s also implied that the Clan kept Gojo under strict watch while his powers developed because of the assassination attempts. Regardless, the isolation, training, and exploitation he endured was severe enough for him to break out and run away multiple times. His attendance at Jujustu Tech in Tokyo was his first time being allowed to interact with others on his own terms rather than his Clan’s.

This means that until Gojo was 15, he likely never had friends. His interactions with other humans amounted to deification, a type of objectification where he was expected to be a tool to further other people’s comfort. Essentially, up until he met Geto, he only knew how to exist as a living weapon.

I don’t think I need to explain why this would negatively impact socialization. Anyone raised by extremely strict/abusive parents or a cult will tell you how difficult it is to try and interact with normal society after having social skills deliberately stunted for most of your life. This lack of socialization is only compounded by autism. Not only is a sheltered autistic person inclined to be socially unaware, they have no frame of reference to what is socially acceptable.

I’ll use myself as an example. The only reason I’m not completely unpalatable in conversation is because public school allowed me to observe what normal human interactions and mannerisms look like. Otherwise, I’d be like Mahito—learning about the world through the limited media I was allowed to consume. (And even then I still took it at face-value for a pretty long time.)

Gojo is sort of in the same situation as Mahito. His Clan reportedly spoiled him rotten, so he was probably allowed to have all the toys, TV, movies, books, and games he wanted between obligations. This means that it is very likely his ideas of the world at large come from media. And boy does it seem to have affected the way he is.

Trying to Connect with Others

Nanami directly compares Gojo to Mahito. Megumi straight up thinks Gojo and Yuji are the same kind of person as stated in CFYOW, JJK Summer of Ashes, Autumn of Dust Chapter 1: Kiyujitsu Kaisen.

So like Yuji and Mahito, Gojo will use media he’s familiar with to make sense of the world around him and hold conversations with others. (In the anime they have Gojo do the tornado kick which straight up appears to be him doing an in-verse reference to Code Geass's Suzaku Spin Kick aka the Spinzaku Kick. Please do not ask me how I recognized this.)

And would you look at that. Most people do Not know how to handle this. Not even Geto who is more visibly confused by his Digimon metaphor in the anime.

I can’t really blame them for their reactions either. Gojo is such a special combination of unfortunate circumstances and experiences that you might as well be listening to someone speak an unknown language.

This goes both ways too. Gojo himself has a very hard time understanding others and tends to take the words of others Very Literally. (Just like Yuji!) This leads to him experiencing the Double Empathy Gap the most when compared to other autistic characters.

The Geto stuff is the most tragic to me. Gojo checked in on him and Geto lied about his feelings. To Gojo, Geto is his best friend. Why would he lie to him? Geto says he’s ok so Gojo thinks he’s ok. (That’s not even getting into the higher ups overworking them both and keeping them separate on purpose.) His upbringing and his autism made it impossible for him to read between the lines, so Geto's betrayal very much comes out of nowhere for him.

The same happens with Shoko okaying the desecration of his corpse, Nanami calling him a pervert and everyone agreeing. Gojo truly believes that the people close to him see him in a very one-dimensional way and there’s nothing he can do about it. After all, he was raised to be a weapon and nothing more.

Funnily enough, Gojo’s Alexithymia is so bad that parts of the fandom have seemingly done the double empathy gap thing to him with respect to his flower metaphor.

“There was always a gulf between me and other people, even if they adored me. You can admire a flower and help it bloom…but you can’t ask it to understand you.”

To me, all Gojo is doing here is explaining his feelings as best he can. Floral language is a big thing in Buddhism which is probably why he makes the comparison. However…I’ve seen interpretations of this that conclude Gojo believes himself so far above others that they might as well be non-sentient plants. To them, this metaphor speaks to his arrogance rather than a clumsy/poetic attempt to communicate his feelings.

I’ll use myself as an example to explain why I think it’s just the autism in action. I often like animals way more than I do other people. Snakes, birds, lizards, spiders, and scorpions are amongst my favorites. Sometimes I compare people to these animals.

What I mean: I think highly of you! You share traits with my favorite animals and that makes me happy.

What others can hear: I think you’re stupid (lizard/bird brained), untrustworthy (a snake), and lesser than me (a bug/arachnid).

Now I could be projecting because I see my autistic traits in Gojo, but I do find it fascinating that how you view Gojo’s flower metaphor is highly dependent on how you feel about him.

Regardless, it does a great job at illustrating how isolated Gojo feels from others. Sometimes my autism makes me feel like I’m a completely different species because I can’t interact with people normally. And in Gojo's case, he can't even refer to himself as a human. The disconnect from others and his dehumanization is so strong he feels he can no longer identify as human.

No one’s autism is exactly the same, so this rift can even exist between autistic people. This is how you can get Yuji and Gojo bonding over their shared autistic traits but not fully understanding each other and feeling isolated for it.

But it’s still really sweet that they connect with movies so well that Gojo’s filmbroness rubs off on Yuji.

It’s also a little concerning that Gojo refers to these movies like a catalog for emotions. Like the proper way to experience emotions is through media and not in person.

The training Gojo subjects Yuji to with movies is likely how he was trained as a child. This suggests that for the first 15 years of his life, movies and other media might have been his only frame of reference for everything not Jujutsu Sorcery. And I mean Everything.

Combine this with The ‘Tism and this could possibly explain exactly what is wrong with Gojo Satoru. (You already know where I’m going with this.)

Gojo’s Racism

Here’s a list of movies for sure Gojo has watched. And for no reason in particular I’m going to include if they have a black person (like myself) in them.

Sourced from a Gege Interview.

Léon: The Professional (1994): Yes

The Descent (2005): No

The Host (2013): No

The Emperor's Naked Army Marches On (1987): No

Deep Blue Sea (1999): Yes

Extra movies from the anime. (Aka probably canon.)

Juggernaut (1974): No

Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001): No

That's only 2 movies with black people in them. I went ahead and watched them to confirm my suspicions...

Léon: The Professional (1994)

Not much to say about the black characters here. From what I saw and the IMDb list, they're all men and they're all background characters. Also I couldn’t finish the film because of how creepy it is towards the 11 year old actress. (It's really bad. Like really, really bad. Traumatized the actress, Natalie Portman, kind of bad. Wish I had a content warning!)

Deep Blue Sea (1999)

Gojo wasn't lying, the heroine died spectacularly. However in terms of spoilers, he glossed over the actual twist death. There's also someone who dies by being bit in half by a shark. And the way those legs looked like Gojo's...

There are 2 black characters in this movie. One is a jovial goofball chef who somehow survives to the end. (Miguel calls this trope out specifically in JJK 255.) There are so many points in this movie where he should've died. His name is Preacher and he has a parrot that is a Red-Crowned Amazon by the way. The other is a rich investor played by Samuel L Jackson who does Not fall into the Scary Black Man trope for once. Preacher doesn't either, he's more of a Gentle Giant.

Both of them function in the film as a subversion of the Magical Negro trope. And after watching this movie, I think Gege was inspired to make Miguel Odol fill this role too.

Anyways, the takeaways from this are 1) Black people are underrepresented in media. 2) What is representing black people in popular media isn't all that varied.

This means if media is your only exposure to black people, those representations will be internalized if you're uncritical about it. (You're reading this on Tumblr I assume you believe racism is real.) It's unconscious most of the time. People usually don't actively go, "Wow black people are all like this!" What happens is they run into a black person irl, are reminded of their impressions via visual similarity, and then say or do some out of pocket nonsense. (I have personally experienced this at the hands of Japanese tourists.)

And what does Mr. Gojo Satoru say to Miguel first? He says Miguel looks like he’ll be trouble. Later he says Miguel's strength and build are because of his race and what makes him dangerous even though Gojo knows several Japanese men with similar physiques.

If he's never met a black man irl before...he must have gotten that idea from somewhere else. He does mention knowing the MMA star turned comedian Bobby Ologun (a big strong and goofy guy) when comparing him to Miguel.

Bobby Ologun is Nigerian. Miguel is Kenyan. Do you know how pissed East Africans get when lumped into the same category as West Africans and vice versa? (For the less informed please see Western Europe’s hatred of Slavs and other Eastern Europeans.)

But as far as Gojo knows from his media, black men are big, strong, and funny. The media he consumes also doesn’t bother to distinguish the different cultures of Africans. Dark Skin=Black and that’s it. And his dismissal of Miguel's distress over the loss of his rope only highlights that apathy towards individual cultures.

All this has terrible consequences for Miguel in the form of Benevolent Racism. This is where a prejudice that can be perceived as positive has negative outcomes for the target. Aka Gojo commits a racially motivated beatdown because of his ignorance that was fueled by the media he consumed growing up. (Miguel's Cursed Technique reminding Gojo of Toji not withstanding.)

Now I’m not saying autism makes you racist. It’s that Gojo’s isolation from the outside world, being raised by emotionally distant conservatives, and consuming media uncritically with his unique brand of autism creates the disaster that are the words coming out of his mouth.

Gojo being this kind of racist. Where he idolizes a type of strength in black people he learned from stereotypes in his movies, is great actually. I really like that Miguel calls it out and is sick of it. He even sarcastically tries to throw back the stereotypes about Japanese people to make his point too.

And guess who else only knows of black people through movies? Sukuna. He’s an art freak, there’s no way he didn’t watch some of those films Yuji was watching. And Miguel can smell it a mile away. Sukuna gives him that look and Miguel is already done with it. Honestly the way Miguel enforces his boundaries is great. He knows his limits both with risking his life and tolerating racism.

Anyways, Gojo Satoru has been running on 3 hours of sleep, sugar, and Reverse Cursed Energy like a madman for years. I don’t think he’s ever sat down and gone, “Huh? Why do I think the way I do? Why do I believe this?” Miguel is probably the first person to ever tell him, that’s racist my dude. (This is an explanation not an excuse btw.)

And that’s kind of the problem. Gojo is willing to learn and do better, but he hasn’t had the time do it on his own. Some outside force has to tell him bluntly, “Yo this isn’t socially acceptable.” (Think of how Geto influenced his morals and manners by telling Gojo exactly what he should do.)

This leads me to believe his mind is a hodgepodge of things he’s uncritically absorbed as a child and that has influenced his questionable beliefs/actions as an adult in ways he’s unable to recognize.

Gojo’s Other Problems

Outside of racism, Gojo’s most unpleasant traits include mild sexism and child endangerment. The sexism comes from how he speaks to Utahime and how treats Shoko compared to Geto. Though he otherwise does not outwardly discriminate against them, it is sus that he sees Rika, a girl transformed into a cursed spirit, and goes "Dang, women are scary." (The child endangerment is self-evident.)

For some reason, Gojo truly believes for some reason that the woman (Shoko) in his life isn’t emotionally capable of being on the same level with him as a man (Geto). This could just be a strength-based thing since Geto told him that’s why they can’t be together anymore. It’s really hard to tell. But if it really is a sexism thing, media in general being misogynistic could explain it. (On top of being raised by a traditionalist family in a society that is very sexist.)

Well-rounded female characters whose complex emotions and inner lives are explored in depth can be very hard to come by, especially in popular media. (If you want media that primarily focuses on female characters GO READ UMINEKO NOW.) A lot of the movies and manga Gojo consumes treat women as love interests first and people second. And since you’re reading this on Tumblr, you’ve probably seen posts that complain about this and how this feeds into irl interactions.

This idea comes into play with Utahime in a different way. Gojo doesn’t understand that Utahime actually hates him. This is a bit odd given that he usually takes people’s hostility towards him to heart. But a place where he could get the idea that her anger is secretly affection is…the tsundere archetype in the mangas he’s so fond of. (Gojo reads a lot of Shonen Jump, it’s no wonder he has negative rizz with women after they get past his good looks.)

Yuji does it, Todo does it, Mahito does it—they use the media they’ve consumed as a baseline for sorcery. They’re the best at what they do for it. There’s no way Gojo isn’t doing the exact same thing, especially when he’s teaching his students. He tries to fit the quirky mentor archetype who uses tough love to guide his students. (His blindfold might be an actual in-verse Kakashi Naruto reference.) And he falls into faulty logic where everything will work out if he leaves it all to his students which fulfills most Shonen story beats.

The stunt with Megumi that kickstarted this series is a 2-for-1 special. Gojo eating sweets is needed to maintain his technique. Him eating them is acting as a responsible adult. However, getting them several hundred kilometers away from his student who is in a dangerous situation is irresponsible. It may speak to how much he trusts Megumi to handle things on his own, but as an adult in charge of a child? This is very poor judgement on Gojo's end.

I also understand that Gojo's upbringing and Japan's culture (aka it's generally safe for a child to be outside alone) is probably why he's so comfortable leaving a roughed up looking child by herself. But like...he should've called someone for Hana. Maybe he did later? (Another case of is this Gege underdeveloping Hana/Tsumiki or is Gojo truly that careless towards little girls...)

Shonen is pretty notorious for uncritically putting children in situations. It probably doesn’t help that Gojo’s own family was violating multiple Japanese labor laws when putting him to work as a kid. I’m not joking about that either.

Per The Constitution of Japan (May 3, 1947) Chapter III Article 27 Paragraph 3:

“Children shall not be exploited.”

What constitutes child labor exploitation are outlined in Japan’s Labor Standards Act (LSA) or Act No. 49 of April 7, 1947.

Per LSA Chapter IV Article 56 Paragraph 2:

“…an employer may employ a child of at least 13 years of age in an occupation…which involves light labor that is not injurious to the child's health and welfare…”

Additional protections for workers are outlined in Japan’s equivalent of OSHA, aka the Industrial Safety and Health Act (ISHA) or Act No. 57 of June 8, 1972.

Per ISHA Chapter VII-2 Article 71-2:

“An employer must endeavor to create a comfortable work environment in order to improve the level of safety and health in the workplace by continuously and systematically taking measures as follows:

measures to manage the maintenance of a comfortable work environment;

measures to improve work methods for work in which workers engage;

providing and streamlining facilities and equipment for workers to recover from fatigue suffered in the course of their work;

the necessary measures to create a comfortable work environment, beyond as set forth in the preceding three items.”

I think it’s safe to say that Gojo not including any of his Clan members in his afterlife scene and being so overworked that he doesn't have hobbies or think much outside of sorcery is proof of this exploitation. Gojo’s self-reported best years of his life were high school and those were still exploitative as hell. The man is a walking and talking human rights violation.

The only time we see child Gojo is from the perspective of assassins staking him out. Gojo himself never willingly recalls his childhood, only his teenage years. He looks so serious and miserable compared to his older self too. (It kind of reminds me of how I was a very quiet, obedient child that blossomed into the yappy evil creature I am now thanks to obtaining legal rights and freedom as an adult.)

This exploitation of children at the hands of adults in Jujutsu Society is normalized in and outside of fiction in their universe. Gojo can tell something is wrong with how he was treated and doesn’t want his students to hurt for it. But he can’t recognize that child labor in or itself is bad, so his solution is to make them strong enough to stand up for themselves. (Aka trying to make a labor union without knowing what a union is. Still breaking child labor laws though.)

Might makes right is a Shonen staple (please see Dragon Ball Z or Baki the Grappler). And though taking that idea to heart seems to be the most of Gojo’s problems as a teacher, there’s an additional issue this genre has—neglecting emotional development and care for the most part.

Characters in Shonen or action movies will go through extremely traumatic events and have little to no reaction to them. (PTSD who? Unless you're goated like Steven Universe Future or Vinland Saga.) It can give people a false sense of invincibility. They also rarely ever discuss the steps that can be taken to handle these emotions. You’ll see characters have panic attacks but rarely how to coax someone out of it. Heartbreak is rampant, but the solutions are to never let go and let it consume you, never how to move on or mourn. (If outright ignoring it like nothing happened isn’t what occurs.)

You can see these kinds of ideas with Geto. A second love is not possible for Gojo. He was his one and only and will always be his one and only. That’s the type of romanticism that has always been in his media.

If Gojo has relied on media to teach him how to feel out his emotions, effectively and healthily coping with grief and breakups is pretty hard to find. Most of the time when media handles those topics directly, it does so in a way that promotes reflecting on your own experiences instead of instructing you how to deal with it. Something Gojo didn’t really have time for.

In the light novels Gojo greatly laments his own inability to deal with grief. He wants his students to learn how to do that effectively and even employs outside help with this.

The result of all this is a really overworked weird guy that feels like there’s no way to process his emotions. He puts on a mask when he talks to others and still winds up alienating himself. He’s tolerated for his labor and dehumanized for what makes him good at it. This is all extremely autistic.

Exploiting Autistic Labor

I want to emphasize again, not all autistic people have these traits. The best sorcerers just happen to all have these traits in common.

Hyperfixating on the task at hand without rest.

Not having a typical reaction to dangerous situations.

Taking words at face-value.

Disconnect from emotions and other people.

Unique perspective for problem solving.

These are all things that make for the ideal worker. Autistic people are often compared to machines for their behaviors and what is better for the capitalist than a person that behaves like a machine?

But autistic people are not machines. They’re humans with flaws subject to burnout, emotional dysregulation, meltdowns, off-putting behavior, and isolation.

Jujutsu Society has no incentive to help with these things, especially the emotional dysregulation or isolation. In fact, it encourages this outcome because isolated people are easier to manipulate and exploit. But this also results in the friction these characters have in their relationships.

It’s a situation where they try to have their cake and eat it too. Everyone loves when Gojo is a Jujutsu Pervert in battle. They make him do everything for it. But the second he starts being weird outside of work, they want nothing to do with him. Or they’ll even insult him for the very traits they’re more than happy to use him for. (It’s exactly like Todo. Everyone depends on his battle intuition and reliability. And that all stems directly from his special interest Takada that no one wants to hear about.)

This creates a very uncomfortable dynamic where Gojo is seemingly bears the burden for everyone and everything while the people he’s servicing refuse to acknowledge it. He’s like some kind of public emotional punching bag or hatesink for other characters because they think he can take it as The Strongest. I don’t know if this is because of the autism, but it is scarily similar to how myself and my other autistic friends get treated by others irl. I think this is why I had such a visceral reaction to JJK 269. I too have experienced allistic people exploiting my labor and then acting like I’ve never done anything for them.

And speaking of JJK 269…Kusakabe has always been that kind of dickhole. He’s been in favor of Yuji’s execution since the start. But that’s not what makes him so aggravating. It’s that he’s too cowardly to do it himself. He once again, pushes the burden onto Gojo. He’s not going to be the child killer even though he wants this child dead, that’s Gojo’s job. Gojo is the tool he and everyone else uses to do the things they don’t like.

This includes the teaching Kusakabe thinks Gojo is bad at. Per that one flashback, Gojo had to instruct Yuta more because Kusakabe didn't do an adequate job. Gojo had to send Yuta to Kenya to be trained by Miguel because neither of them were doing enough for Yuta. Gojo recognized his own limits and enlisted help. Kusakabe projected his own shortcomings onto Gojo and waited for everyone else to find a solution for him.

I also want to remind everyone that Kusakabe is wrong about Yuji needing to be executed. Yuji and Sukuna were Kenjaku’s backup plan. Kenjaku would’ve sealed Gojo and started the Merger anyways. In fact, Gojo, Yuji, and Sukuna are the only reason Kenjaku didn’t win. Plus the remaining Sukuna fingers were getting stronger All By Themselves. This means that Kusakabe would just be kicking the can down the road and making it a problem for the younger generation. Gojo was the only adult with enough foresight to do something that would solve the problem.

We’ve also got Ui Ui calling himself the MVP of the Sukuna fight while failing to acknowledge the only reason he could warp in and out without dying was Gojo exhausting Sukuna in the first place. Gojo’s contributions seemingly don’t count because he’s not a person. He’s a tool they used. So all his labor counts as theirs instead.

And because he’s dead, Yuta really is the new Gojo. Please see how Yuta was treated before and after Gojo’s death side by side.

(I can’t tell if this is character assassination or the point. But the only person here allowed to criticize Yuta is Todo as far as I’m concerned.)

Yuta is their new Strongest hatesink who happens to be autistic as hell. And yes, Yuta’s autism is second to Gojo Satoru’s.

(Yuta's leans much more into socially unaware straightforwardness and taking things literally. He doesn't have a special interest or infodumps at people and I think that's neat.)

Everyone grills into Yuta so hard over his plans for the Sukuna battle that he experiences the quintessential autistic experience as described by Twitter User PenGwenWithLC:

"The autistic trait that bites me in the ass most frequently is my impenetrable belief that if I show people the truth they will believe me."

Mind you, Yuta is the main reason they won after Gojo died. This boy had Back Up Plans A through Z and they worked. The only person who had valid input on his planning was…Gojo (and possibly Todo). The finger resonance with Nobara was Gojo’s idea (JJK 267 Pgs 4-5...Also let's talk about how if Gojo wasn't a hopeless romantic and scheduled this fight a day or even an hour later, he might have lived based on Nobara's wake up time.). Once again, these are all autistic characters using their unique ways of thinking to solve problems others are too cowardly to address.

And then these same people turn around and disparage them without acknowledging their efforts or emotions. Sure you can call it lashing out because they secretly care about them. (Aka tsundere behavior.) But both Yuta and Gojo take other people’s words at face value. They don’t understand that this is a very fudged up display of affection and internalize it. Gojo died convinced everyone except maybe 3 people hated him and even in death he couldn’t escape it.

This is also why Gojo leaving Yuta in Miguel’s care was a good thing. Miguel seems to be the sole person in this series who knows how to avoid labor exploitation. Nanami may see work as nonsense and have an overtime mechanic, but Miguel simply does not work overtime. He sets his boundaries and sticks to them.

It’s very ironic that Yuta took flack for respecting the boundaries of a black man that refused to be exploited by the very people that would treat him poorly.

How to Not Exploit Autistic Labor

CW: Discussion of Suicide

The last time I examined the tragedy of Gojo Satoru I wanted him to live and be loved. But I’m not sure if I want that now. It doesn’t really seem like the systemic issues that caused his exploitation have been addressed, and the people he’s helped refuse to acknowledge they are standing on the shoulders of giants. Him becoming suicidal over this exploitation and choosing death because he saw no end to this is a particularly harsh reflection of what happens in reality.

Yuji notices that Gojo is acting out of character during his final talk with him. The arrogant, self-aggrandizing chipper he's used to has been replaced with this timid optimism. Gojo tells Yuji and everyone else to forget about him because he's confident they'll be living longer than him. Before this, previous chapters have shown that Gojo went around apologizing to others and preparing letters in the advent of his death. These are all warning signs associated with an imminent suicide attempt.

When Gojo tells Yuji this is confidence he's never had before, it seems like he means both his plans to go through with dying and that everyone really will be fine and better off without him.

Gojo also makes sure Yuji doesn't catch on to this. (Probably why he didn't do the soul swap too.) Even with his suicide, he's doing his best to make sure it doesn't negatively impact anyone. His final letters to Megumi and Nobara being so unserious is another attempt to make sure their hearts don't break. ...And nobody he devoted himself to in life or death noticed.

This rather bleak ending for Gojo does have a purpose I think. It’s an example of how hypercapitalist work culture doesn’t value your life. You can bend over backwards and put your all into work, but in the end, you’re just another cog to be used. Gojo’s dehumanization was inevitable under this system. This man was born to be used as a tool and discarded once he served his purpose. And because he’s not a person, people get really mad when he does anything outside of what benefits them directly. Since to them, it’s like a machine malfunctioning.

It’s unlikely these people will ever mourn him properly, let alone even acknowledge his efforts (outside of Yuji and Yuta that is). His closest “friends” in death thought of him as a self-serving pervert you know. (Once again, not sure if that’s character assassination or showcasing what Jujutsu Society does to people, but wow does it suck to see.)

But you know who did acknowledge Gojo as a human who did his damned best and is worth remembering? Sukuna.

Sukuna stopped the whole battle to lavish praise on Gojo and mourn him. He’s done that for everyone who has put up a decent fight against him. The other sorcerers? They do no such thing, even after the battle.

And you know who takes the time to cherish and mourn his comrades no matter what? Jogo.

I excluded Mahito from the autistic labor exploitation discussion for good reason. The natural disaster curses treat Mahito better than most humans have ever treated Gojo. Jogo doesn’t exploit Mahito’s autism, he embraces it. And despite their weird behaviors and beliefs stressing him out most of the time, Jogo does nothing to stop Mahito from being themself. He expresses his distaste, sure, but Jojo otherwise acknowledges those traits are what makes Mahito good for their cause. Mahito is his equal, not a tool.

Jogo doesn’t tell Mahito what to do or feel. He rolls with their shenanigans while wearing his heart on his sleeve. He takes time to mourn his comrades no matter how dire the situation. He acts with their interests in mind at all times—even in death his first concerns are his comrades.

Even though Mahito is alive, Jogo worries for them while still having faith in their abilities. He looks forward to seeing Mahito again via reincarnation. I cannot say the same of Gojo’s allies.

I’m not really sure how to end this discussion since I’m continuing it in another part. But if there’s anything you take away form this incomplete analysis, please let it be this one thing:

Jogo is best girl.

#Yuuji canonically having piss yourself autism #This was in my drafts for ages bc I meant to finish the light novels first however I am being rly slow bc I don't want jjk to end 🤡#But god u made so many amazing points #And going to watch the movies yourself?#I rly wouldn't have made the connections w Mahito bc I have too much beef but you're so right #And Yuuji not being shown mourning his grandpa that much #I thought it was kinda weird until my own grandpa died and then I didn't rly react so much either akfnsjcjakmx #Like oh we are just like that sometimes ok #I knew that jjk helped me to understand and accept elusive alters by analyzing characters they relate to #But that applies to their autism too #I can no longer deny the suicidal Gojo allegations.... He let sukuna grab his thigh in his domain too much to have rly tried...#Yuuta being suicidal (I wonder if Gojo or Rika stole his shoelaces n put him on suicide watch) when he met Gojo and Yuuji not having that #Also Miguel?? The one who won't be exploited.... I have a long draft on how jujutsu society is a cult and obv the shadow school thing but #Geto's doesn't rly fit into it those people were volunteering and having fun and free to do what they wanted (except for hurting innocent p #And Gojo Yuuji and Sukuna being the reason kenjaku didn't win - which Kusakabe and the higher ups were against -!!#Thank you for pointing all this out #But also the date and Nobara?? That's so insane #Do you think Gojo made a pact with his life for hers? Bc she was asleep for months and then very much alive and awake after just 30 minutes #Also the issues w Kusakabe!! Thank u for validating my beef w him #But yeah the curses rly put Mahito as their leader and called themselves the true humans and there is something so accepting about that 😖#I need to go spontaneously combust now #Jjk meta

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hurtspideyparker · 5 months ago

Text

If Civil War didn't end in divorce and everyone lived together Part 2

Read Part 1 and Part 3

Tony: Why is Underoos mopping the ceiling?

Sam: Told him since he's sticky that's his chore

Bucky: It's only fair he helps out around the house

Tony: Hm. Makes sense

Vision cooked dinner:

Peter: *pushing around food to make it look eaten*

Natasha: *surreptitiously spitting into napkin*

Steve: *taking small bites with tons of water*

Bucky: *just stares at full plate*

Tony: Well this is disgusting, I'm ordering pizza

Sam: C'mon man stop moping around, you gotta get yourself a girl

Bucky: Ok.

Sam: Ok? Okayyyyy! I know-

Bucky: Give me your phone

Sam: Oh you got a number in mind already hotshot? *hands phone over*

Bucky: *ring* Hi Sarah ;)

Sam: BOY-

Peter: Ned thought you would seperate your colours from your lights but he also thought you'd be homophobic so I don't pay him much mind cuz clearly I'm more of a superhero expert than him but he does have a 2% better average than me in history so like maybe you do hand wash your clothes and that's why I asked what underwear you wear because-

Steve: *listening intently with apprehension and alarm*

Natasha: I can't believe you found the one person on Earth who talks more nonsense than you

Tony: I know right, it's incredibly unnerving. I'm planning on adopting him

Peter: Mr. Stark I have to tell you something. I think Vision is a... *whispers* pervert

Tony: Um, why?

Peter: He keeps floating through my room without knocking! He saw me changing, he saw my nipples !

Tony: Well if anyone's a predator here it would be you. I mean showing your nipples to a 2 year old? Deplorable.

Peter:

Peter: Oh god, I'm the pervert...

Bucky: Y'know animosity isn't good between teammates. I think we should spend more time together

Sam: Am I being punked right now? Where's the camera

Bucky: I'm serious. I think it would be healthy for us to bond

Sam: Okay fine I'll bite... what did you have in mind

Bucky: Wanna go for a run?

Sam: *slams door in Bucky's face*

*staring at Bucky's sparkly clean metal arm*

Bucky: Dishwasher?

Peter: Dishwasher :)

(later that day)

Bucky: I've decided to let the child live

Peter: YoU wHaT?!

Thwip

Tony: Who took my coffee cup, It was right here

Thwip

Bruce: Um, has someone seen my book? I just had it

Thwip

Steve: I could've sworn I was holding a pen a moment ago

*giggling from the ceiling*

Tony: Young man I will take those webshooters away if you use them for shenanigans and rascality

Peter, muffled: Mr. Hawkeye told me to!

Clint: Oh so you're just gonna rat me out like that?

Peter: Sor- OOF

*falls out of ceiling vent*

Sam: You're in my spot

Bucky: There are no spots, it's a common area

Sam: Well that's my spot

Bucky: Did you buy the chair??

Sam: No, but everyone knows that's where I sit. Right Steve?

Steve: Oops I forgot something in my car, be right back *leaves*

Sam: Still my spot

Bucky: Still not

Sam: *sits on him*

Bucky: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU ALL THE COUCHES ARE FREE-

Sam: IT'S MY SPOT YOU CAN'T TAKE A MAN'S FAVOURITE CHAIR-

BUCKY: YOU HAVE ISSUES GET OFF ME-

(one hour later)

Steve: Hey so turns out I don't have a car! Isn't that funn...

Sam & Bucky: *Squeezed awkwardly on the chair together*

Steve: I think I left something in my car

Steve: Leave the bedroom door open when you have Vision in there

Wanda: UGH you're so protective

Tony: Teenagers, am I right? Caught Pete reassembling my particle accelerator at midnight because he needed to neutralize a miniature nuclear bomb he nabbed off some guy he neglected to tell me was trying to kill him

Steve:

Steve: Wanda y'know what do whatever you want

Wanda: Really?

Steve: Yes just keep being normal. At least I can read about our issues in a parenting book

Thor: Ah, new warriors I see! Good to make all your acquaintance. But why are you so grumpy my friend?

Bucky: *glaring*

Peter: He's always like that. It's um, P- P- PMS? Wait -

Natasha: Yes it's PMS

Wanda: He's got it bad

Steve: *genuinely concerned* Bucky you didn't tell me something was wrong. What can I do to help?

Bucky:

Bucky: I like chocolate

Wanda: Welcome to the first annual girls night! This place reeks of men, so I thought we needed some women time

Pepper: Why is Vision here?

Wanda: I get sad when he's gone

Natasha: Why is Pietro here?

Pietro: Slay queens

Wanda: Moral support I think

Maria: Why is Peter here?

Wanda: He looked really upset when I said he wasn't included and I felt bad

Wanda: Anyways... yay girls! Who wants me to paint their nails?

Peter: ME ME ME

Steve: Pancakes or waffles?

Natasha: Pancakes

Steve: Good because I don't have a waffle maker

Natasha: Then why would you ask-

Steve: It's important for your voice to be heard, as team leader I value your opinion

*2 minutes later*

Steve: Good morning Clint, pancakes or waffles?

Clint: Waffles

Steve: Oh no.

Some of these were based on requests (ex. more Sam & Bucky, dad Steve w/ Wanda) so if you have certain dynamics you enjoy let me know !

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creamecafe · 3 days ago

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hii could u write something for Dae-ho set in the mingle game and its basically just him protecting reader and always keeping them at his side. 🫶🫶🫶

"As long as I'm here, no one can hurt you"

Summary: What the request says

Pairing: Dae-Ho x GN!Reader (No pronouns used)

Warnings: fluff, comfort, pining

Word Count:

Author's Note: Thank you so much for requesting. I hope you enjoy!

Want a request for a Squid Game character like this one? Check out my latest post, read my request guidelines and send a request!

Read on Wattpad & AO3 here

It's a miracle that you have made it to the third game. You were sure you were going to die in the second game, but thanks to the team you had, you were more than determined to still stay alive

Out of all them, there was one that you kept looking at. Dae-Ho. You couldn't help but find him cute. This certainly wasn't the place to have feelings as you could die before telling him.

It was the same for Dae-Ho, trying to make sure everyone is ok and that the team survives. But it was something with you.

He felt safe with you, and wanted to protect you. Even if it meant giving his life for you.

The announcement for the third game came, you were worried, but wanted it to be over it. Dae-Ho noticed you being anxious and asked if you okay

"Are you okay?"

You stopped zoning out and looked at him with your heart pounding.

"What? Y-yes I'm ok thank you." Nodding trying to reassure yourself.

"I think this might be the last game I play in." You chuckled knowing deep inside you dreaded the idea

"Hey look at me."

You did as he said. "Don't say that, you have us."

He held out your hand to hold it. You looked at it and hesitated putting your hand out but you held it. A tight squeeze was given but not too rough. It was a sign of reassuring.

He gives you a smile and you did too not of full happiness but someone is here to care about you.

All of you guys were called for the game. You got up and stayed close to Dae-Ho. He looked back at you and nodded. You did the same.

It was the same, climbing up those colorful but dreading stairs to the next game. Every minute or two, Dae-Ho made sure you were right behind him.

You finally reached the game and saw a carousel in the middle with horses and so many doors of different bright colors for a Pre-K setting.

"Welcome to your third game." The woman's voice from the previous games you heard came on the speakers.

"The game you will be playing is Mingle. Let me repeat. The game you will be playing is Mingle."

Turning your head to look at Dae-Ho, he's already looking at you.

You quickly look away not to make the situation worse. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable as well.

"All players, please step onto the center platform. When the game starts, the platform will begin to rotate, you will hear a number. You must form groups of that size, go into the rooms, and close the door within 30 seconds."

"Oh this game? We used to play something similar on school trips. We formed groups by hugging." Jung-bae exclaimed.

"Yeah. Instead of hugging, we go into those rooms" Dae-Ho mentioned.

"If the number is bigger than six, we'll get the additional people we need." Gi-Hun

And if it's less than that? You thought in your mind

"But what if it's smaller than five? Like three or four

You turned your head to Dae-Ho. It's like he read your mind exactly.

"No matter what happens, don't panic. Let's stay calm," Young-il nods. "We'll make it out together. Here."

Those words echoing in your mind, there wasn't enough time to doubt if your group would stick with you.

You've seen how quickly people are to turn against each other especially in the Red Light, Green Light.

But you're more than determined to stay alive, just to see Dae-Ho's face every chance you get.

Young-il puts the back side of hand out to form a truce. One by one, everyone is putting their hands on top of each other. You were the last one.

"Y/N. Are you in?" Gi-Hun asks.

Dae-Ho looks at you with worry in his eyes. You had no choice and no knowledge of trusting others in this game, so you put your hand out on top.

Dae-Ho becomes relieved at this.

"One, two, three. Victory at all costs."

Sighing at this with relief, you guys begin to spread out. The carousel is starting to spin

People scream out in fear. Lights go out and the light in the middle where horses out lights ups and music plays.

Children are singing about holding hands and ringing around.

Dae-Ho holds your hand lightly. He grazes your hand with his thumb. You don't look at him, as you fear you'll die doing so.

It suddenly stops. The number is 9. People are running out frantically pairing in groups of 9. Dae-Ho doesn't let go of your hand.

"We need 3 more." You said. Your group ran looking for 3 more.

A old lady, her son and another woman goes up to you guys.

"Are you guys 3?" Young-il asks

"Yes we're." The old lady nods frantically.

"Quickly we got to get into a room" Gi Hun exclaims

Your feet were starting to move, but the grip of Dae-Ho holding your hand made you move even faster.

All of you guys rushed into a room and closed the door. The room was filled with heavy breaths. There was a click on the lock meaning that the room was closed and nobody can get in or out.

Right now, you have never been more grateful to be alive in playing a game

It wasn't long before you heard gunshots, and it was safe to assume it was those who didn't pair up or get into rooms in time.

Now that you're safe, you look at Dae-Ho and he does too.

"Is everyone ok?" Dae-Ho asks

There was a lot of yes. That answer might change throughout the game seeing how long each of us might last.

The door lock clicked and you guys were allowed to come out. There were bodies on the floors and blood splattered. "Take off your mind off those bodies or you'll be one of them" Your mind was telling yourself.

"We got this" Dae-Ho talks to you

"We do" You smiled. Don't know how many smiles it will take to keep going, but you're ready to prove his point.

The game started again and the carousel spins. You hold out to Dae-Ho's hand.

Now the number was 4. Young-il grabs Jung-Bae and goes to find two more people. That's left Gi-Hun, Jun-Hee, Dae-Ho and you left.

There was no time to waste. All four you ran to a room and locked yourself in. Gi-Hun was looking around for Young-il. You pulled him back in.

The gunshots came again. The lesser the number, the more likely people will betray each other.

How long this game will last, you don't know. All you know is that you have people here to help you. Even if it's just one person, it makes all the difference.

The doors clicked and it was time for another round. The panic and adrenaline of it all keeps coming back. But Dae-Ho is making sure you're by his side, even if he may die in the game as well.

Six the group was. Dae-Ho said you and him were going to go and find another group. Luckily you did and you managed to still be alive locked in a room.

Now it all came down to the very last game. There were less people than the game started. You wanted to finish this for once and for all. While the carousel was spinning and music playing, you place yourself in movement ready to run and holding Dae-Ho's hand.

"2" The voice said.

It felt like time was going slow once it announced the number. Everybody is rushing to get into a room. Time's running out.

You felt a hand pull you back and you fell to the ground. Dae-Ho heard your scream and saw someone trying to stop you from going into a room. Someone else was already in the room that you guys were planning to go into.

Dae-Ho could go into the room and that would already make it two. But he's made it too far to leave you.

He ran and punched the guy that pushed you. He put you back on your feet and dragged the other guy out. He slammed the door shut and the timer just came to zero. The guy on the other side begs and bangs on the door.

A pink guard shoots him and the noises stop.

"Are you ok?" Dae-Ho rushes to you.

Still shaken at what happened, at the fact you almost died if it wasn't for him to save you, you nodded.

"Yes I am. Thank you."

There was a moment of silence between you too as you were catching your breaths.

The door clicked and you both came out.

"Y/N! Dae-Ho!" Both of your names were being called

Gi-Hun, Young-il, Jung-Bae and Jun-Hee run up to you guys and you all hug each other.

"I'm so glad you guys are ok." Jun-Hee smiles

You're also relieved that everyone else is fine and made it out alive. You could return back to the dorms.

Walking down back the stairs and into the dorms, everyone was mostly silent but some talked.

You ran up and tapped Dae-Ho on the shoulder.

"Hey Dae-Ho?"

"Yes Y/N?"

"You could have gone into the room where the other guy before you dragged him out, why didn't you?"

Dae-Ho took a pause before responding.

"I have lost many people when I was a marine, seen people get killed in front of me. I can't let it happen to you."

He starts to become close to you but not too close.

"As long as I'm still alive, I'll make sure you're fine. That's a promise I tend to keep Y/N."

Those words stuck with you. You could die in the next game, but right here at this moment is a reason to keep going.

Taglist:

@hobinistaworld

Navigation | Main Masterlist | Squid Game Masterlist | Kang Dae-Ho Masterlist | Join my taglist!

#creamecafe #kang daeho #daeho #squid game #squid game spoilers #squid game x reader #squid game season 2 #squid game s2 #kdrama #dae ho x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #squid game fanfic #kang daeho x reader #pining #slow burn #jang x reader #mingle squid game #please reach the right audience

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always-just-red · 3 months ago

Note

A multi-headcanon request please. How the boys react when they discover their s/o has been hiding a wound from them because she had it under control and didn't want to give them something else to worry about

Hi! Thanks so much for the request and all the support! Have written a little fic for each of the guys, starring... - Xavier, Deepspace Hunter extraordinaire ✨ - Linkon's worst best baking partner, Zayne 🍪 - Drama queen Rafayel 👑 - King of self-care, Sylus 💅

Putting On A Brave Face

L&DS Boys x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, a certain hunter likes to say things are fine when they definitely aren't...

Genre: A lil bit of angst, mostly fluff + comfort!

Warnings/Additional tags: female reader, established relationship, swearing, canon pet names, some injury details/blood mentioned, teeeeency bit of suggestion (I'm looking at YOU, Sylus...)

| Word count: 4k (1k each!) | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Xavier ⭐

This is bad. Not ‘end of everything as we know it’ bad, but definitely ‘an obscene amount of paperwork’ bad.

You clutch one of your pistols to your chest— deep breath— and you listen carefully, your head leant back against the rock you’re using as cover. Your mind latches on to every sound: each growl, each rumble of earth that marks the movements of the Wanderers that have trapped you here.

You’ve fought worse odds, but then again, you don’t usually have to do it with a broken leg.

Or maybe just sprained? You shift a little, trying to move, and the pain that sears through you settles the debate in an instant. Your teeth sink into the back of your hand to keep you from crying out.

You hope Xavier’s ok. You sent him your co-ordinates minutes ago, and the lack of response has worry gnawing away at the deepest parts of you. You check your hunter’s watch.

Still nothing.

Another deep breath, and you readjust your position as much as you can. Balancing on your good leg, you manage to peer over the top of the rock to get a visual of your surroundings.

There’s four, no— five Wanderers. Stupid no-hunt zone; you’re never not outnumbered.

You can see your second pistol, abandoned in the middle of the clearing where you’d dropped it. There’s flickers of movement, too: further in the woods. More Wanderers. Shit.

You duck behind the rock you’re starting to think might be your new home. Then your watch flickers, broadcasting a map of the area, and there’s the co-ordinates of another hunter, closing in fast.

Something flashes in the clearing, lighting the dark of the forest like a stutter of lightning. Then again. Then again. There’s a blood-curdling roar, and it ends— abrupt— with another flash.

Everything goes silent, save for a familiar voice calling your name.

“Xavier!” you call back.

You peek over the rock to see your partner jogging towards you, dead Wanderers littered behind him. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice soft as always, but his sword is still dripping blood.

“I’m ok.” You clamber up, using the rock as a seat when the small effort almost breaks you. “You?”

Xavier draws close— his gloved hands on your face, cupping your cheeks. His thumb grazes over a shallow scrape on your brow. “Yeah,” he answers.

“Did you find that weird Wanderer?”

He shakes his head: no. Steps back to check his watch. “It’s probably moved on to a different zone by now.”

“Then we should look for it,” you say, standing up. All of your weight is on one leg.

“Ah,” Xavier ponders, rubbing his neck, “really? I thought we should maybe head back.”

“No need.” And what’s the plan here, exactly? You can’t walk. You definitely can’t fight. Maybe you can wait here while he— no. He’s never going to leave you. “I told you I’m ok.”

“But you’re not.”

“I am,” you assert. You’re determined to convince him and your own, useless body. It’s just a sprain. It is just a sprain. You take a step forwards and stumble, your bad leg crumpling beneath you.

Xavier catches you, strong and solid, and he's holding you like you’re something delicate. He sets you down on the rock again. The pain is making your vision swim.

“You’re hurt,” he reasons gently, even though the truth of it is a knife that’s twisting in your heart. He seems to sense your reluctance: “There’s no shame in admitting that. It happens. Let’s go back.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m slowing you down, Xavier!” you gush. Your heart is split open and it has to bleed somewhere. “You have no idea what it’s like… being your partner.”

He’s looking at you with so much guilt and gods, you wish that somewhere was anywhere but his hands. “What do you mean?” he asks on a shaky breath.

“I love working with you.” Soften the blow. “I love being with you, but you don’t need me. You’re this incredible hunter. This figure of legend, of everyone’s stories. You can do so much on your own and I just don’t know how to keep up. I mean, look at me— I can’t.”

You feel sick. Empty. “You shouldn’t have to hang back for me,” you finish limply. “You’re you, Xavier. You can fight like a hundred Wanderers and still come out unscathed.”

The blue of Xavier’s eyes has grown understandably more turbulent, though it settles a little. He seems to relax. “Yeah… about that,” he mumbles hesitantly.

He turns around and your mouth drops. A savage cut drapes like a crimson sash down his back, splitting the white of his uniform. It’s not deep enough to be fatal, but it’s not good, either.

“Wha— Xavier!” you exclaim, trying to surge forwards, but your pain keeps you rooted. “You said you were ok!”

“So did you,” he frowns, bewildered. “Can we get out of—”

“Yeah, yeah.” You let him take your arm and help you to your feet.

He leads you through the clearing and into the forest, supporting your weight as you hop along beside him. There’s a murmur about how he should carry you, but you’re quick to reassure him he’s doing enough. You’re both hurting; you both just need to survive the short walk out of the no-hunt zone, where a med team can take over.

“You don’t slow me down, you know,” Xavier says quietly, after a minute of silence. “You’re the reason I can keep going.”

You squeeze his arm affectionately, mustering a smile even though you’re nauseous with pain and the idea that he’s been dwelling on your speech this whole time. “Well,” you chuckle through gritted teeth, “you’re gonna have to learn how to get by without me.”

“Huh?” He gives you a curious look.

You glance down at your leg. “Zayne’s gonna kill me...”

Zayne ❄

“I’m a doctor.”

You stop what you’re doing to fix Zayne with a questioning stare. “Ok…?”

“I’ve published dozens of research papers. Pioneered new surgical techniques. My work on Evol-based regenerative properties still has lasting implications for my field, and I’ve the accolades to show for it. The Starcatcher Award. The Linde Award, too— I was the youngest ever recipient.”

None of this is news to you, and you can’t help chuckling at this change in your usually-humble physician. You humour him: “The youngest ever recipient, huh?” There’s a crack as you split an egg on the side of the bowl in front of you. “That’s very impressive.”

“Is it?”

Zayne stands from his seat at your kitchen table: you hear the chair draw back. You feel his presence arrive behind you as you continue to stir your soon-to-be cookie dough. “Yeah,” you lilt with a smile.

“Really?” he pushes again, and his arms wrap around you as he bends to speak into your ear. “Because someone seems to think I can’t even recognise a—” he nips at it— “sprained ankle.”

His breath is warm on your neck and you let out a giggle. “Keep speaking to me like that and these cookies are never making it into the oven. Or your stomach.”

The man relents. He releases you, not returning to his seat but opting to lean against the kitchen counter instead. You glance up at him; he stares back, waiting for an actual answer.

“My ankle is fine, Zayne.”

There’s a sigh as he crosses his arms.

“It is,” you insist, even though you did sprain your ankle at work today, it does hurt like hell, and you do just want to sit down. You reach for the flour you’d measured out previously, tipping it into the larger bowl. “If it wasn’t, would I really be here— making you cookies?”

“Yes,” he says plainly.

“You’re delusional.”

“Ok.”

Well, that was a little too easy. Don’t overthink it, and definitely don’t read into the fact that he’s standing there oh-so-smugly, like he knows something you don’t. You finish stirring the flour into the mixture, then add the last of the ingredients. Just a pinch of salt, and then…

Where did you put the chocolate chips? You glance about yourself but they’re nowhere in sight. “Hey, Zayne? Have you seen the—”

“This cupboard,” he indicates with an upwards nod of his head. His eyes are relentless. “Top shelf.”

Ah. That’s ok. You’ve totally got this. You move beneath the cupboard, opening it and gazing up into the contents. You can see the pack of chocolate chips. You can get up there somehow, right?

“Would you like me to—” Zayne starts, but you cut him off:

“Nope.” You put your hands on your hips. “Please— if I can climb the back of an alive, awake, and very angry deluge wyrmlord to put a sword through its skull, I think I can make it onto the kitchen counter in one piece. Lemme just…”

Your knee lifts. You make it about a centimetre from the floor before Zayne’s hands are on your waist, grounding you. “Stop,” he instructs, and it's not a tone that allows for any rebuttal. Satisfied by your silence, he brings the chocolate chips down to you.

“Thanks,” you say quietly as they’re placed on the counter.

“You’re welcome."

Sheepishly, you spill a generous amount of chocolate chips into the cookie mixture. Your throat hurts in the way that keeps you from saying anything more. You already feel like an idiot, and your eyes are watering, threatening to make you look like even more of one.

Zayne’s hand appears in front of you, hovering over the bowl. You laugh in understanding: giving the half-empty bag another shake so chocolate chips fall into his palm.

“You… don’t have to explain yourself,” he says as he lifts them to his mouth. His next words are muffled: “But you can tell me anything, my love. I never want you to feel as though you can’t.”

You chuckle again; you can’t help yourself. Look at him: your oh-so-serious doctor shovelling chocolate into his mouth. He raises an eyebrow at you, his lips still on his palm.

“I know I can tell you anything,” you smile, the ache in your throat receding, however much the rest of you hurts. “I did sprain my ankle. It’s not that I wanted to hide it from you, it’s just—” you stop stirring the mixture— “it’s just that your whole life is taking care of people at the hospital. You should get a break from it. You should get to be Zayne, here… at home. Just Zayne, not Doctor Zayne.”

Zayne’s hazel eyes have taken on a hue of regret. He pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, buying himself a few seconds as he contemplates. “Are you a doctor?” he asks after a moment.

“No?”

“And yet, here you are, taking care of me.” He reaches for the abandoned packet of chocolate chips. “Tell me, does it feel like work to you?”

“Yeah,” you tease, drawing the packet away from his stretching fingers in explanation; you’re both grinning.

“Well, it never feels like work to me. Just Zayne likes taking care of you. And right now? He wants to bundle you up on the sofa and finish these cookies for you.”

You purse your lips: that’s some dubious wording. “Zayne, hell will freeze over before I leave you and this cookie dough unsupervised.”

He shushes you, pulling on the cord of your apron until the bow at your back comes loose. Before you can protest, he’s wearing the apron himself.

“Zayne, I’m not kidding. I know what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna get rid of me, and then you’ll—”

“Shh,” he coos again, whisking you carefully off your feet, because it’s time for a taste of your own medicine. “You’re delusional.”

Rafayel 🔥

“Mmhmm. Mmhmm.”

“Raf, who are you—”

He holds out a finger to shush you. “Mmhmm.”

You cross your arms impatiently. Who is he even talking to, anyway? His lilac eyes are locked on you as he continues humming away, apparently very invested in whatever the person on the phone is saying; you’ve never seen him go this long without talking.

He narrows his eyes at you. You narrow your eyes right back.

All around you, guests of the exhibition are milling about, all dressed to the nines and minding their business, however much they want the attention of the man in front of you. A few of them linger as they pass him, like they want to say something, like they’re going to say something…

But they don’t.

It’s a wonder that Rafayel stands out in the crowd as much as he does. You’d seamlessly located him, back from your third trip to the bathroom to check on the bandages you’ve managed to conceal beneath this dress. He’s still holding your purse for you, his phone in his other hand, except—

That’s your phone. That’s your phone! “Rafayel!”

He shushes you again. “I understand,” he says solemnly, notably not to you, “thanks for letting me know.” The call is ended. He takes a deep, collected breath, then looks at you. “I knew it!”

“Knew what? Who was that?”

“Zayne.”

“You called Zayne?”

“Like I had a choice!” Rafayel retaliates. It is true; he’s spent the entire evening trying to get you to admit something was wrong, and you had no intention of giving him that pleasure. “You’re supposed to be in the hospital! What kind of idiot breaks out of the hospital?”

The lack of irony in the question almost breaks you. “Umm… you?! Like every other week?!”

He shrugs. “That’s different.”

“Rafayel, I swear, I’m gonna— ah!” you gasp in pain. You’d stepped forwards too quickly— maybe to strangle him, but that’s neither here nor there— and the wound on your side is clearly on his side. It stings like hell: punishing you, and you know the pain is self-inflicted.

Rafayel frowns in concern, maybe even guilt, and that’s why you didn’t tell him. “C’mon, we should go,” he insists gravely.

“It��s fine, Raf. It doesn’t even—”

“Stop lying! You said you wouldn’t hide stuff like this from me. You promised, remember?”

You’re losing track of all the promises you’ve made to the Lemurian, but you do remember that one. Guilt has its teeth in you, too. “I know,” you grumble, “I’m sorry, ok? I just knew—”

“What?”

“That you’d act like this! You’ve been working on this exhibition for months, Raf. Tonight is supposed to be about you. Not me— you. And I want it to stay that way. Everyone’s here to celebrate you and your work, and that’s how it should be. That’s what I want. To support you. To be here for you.”

Your voice has gone timid. You finish meekly: “Can’t you let me do this for you? Please?”

Rafayel’s eyes are wide and still the prettiest things you’ve ever seen, even in a room full of masterpieces and jewels you could never afford. They shine with uncertainty, but soften as he smiles, full of fondness and affection. “That’s sweet. But also? Really dumb.”

“Raf—”

“The only— and I mean only— reason I’m here tonight is because you are. I don’t care about what anyone thinks about me or my paintings. Just you. And you can see this?” He gestures around the gallery. “Anytime. My life’s your private exhibition, cutie. Exclusive access, 24/7, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He steps closer to you: close enough that he can see the tear that’s made it halfway down your cheek. He wipes it away with a chuckle. “Plus,” he adds, “I know you know I’m amazing. You don’t need these old sourpusses to tell you that, do you?”

You laugh tentatively. “No, I don’t.”

Your injury protests as you use the lapels on Rafayel’s blazer to pull him closer; you have to stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He’s still grinning as he draws away, a light blush on his cheeks, but the sweetness of the moment vanishes as his gaze drifts lower.

“My eyes are up here, Rafayel.”

“Yeah…” he concedes mindlessly, but then he points: “you know you’re like, bleeding, right?”

You glance downwards to where the red of your dress is turning darker. There’s just a small splotch, but it’s growing. Shit. You must have reopened the wound.

“Thomas?” you hear Rafayel call, and then he’s stuffing a silk handkerchief into your hands— helping you apply pressure. “We have to get out of here,” he explains as a figure joins you.

His agent folds his arms; this is not dissimilar to stunts you and Rafayel have pulled before. “Fake blood, guys? Really?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can’t leave, Rafayel. I can just see the headlines tomorrow…”

“Dashing artist selflessly flees exhibition to save devoted bodyguard,” Rafayel concurs with a nod.

Thomas groans. “That’s not what they’re going to—”

“Help me out with this, cutie?”

“Yes, sir,” you mock salute.

A moment later, Rafayel has scooped you up into his arms. Your hero; he gives you a conspiratorial wink before glancing about frantically. “Quickly!” he cries out. “Everyone out of the way, please!”

“For the love of—” Thomas starts.

“Oh, gods!” you shout in agony. “It hurts. It hurts!”

Heads turn. Cameras flash.

Tomorrow morning, half of Linkon will be talking about one of their favourite celebrities and his long-envied bodyguard. A news article will pop-up on her doctor’s phone, and he’ll see the pictures and sigh.

Sylus 🩸

“It’s not too late to back down, sweetie,” Sylus sneers.

“Aw, but you got all dressed up for the occasion.”

Your eyes rake over the outline of the man’s abs, courtesy of the tank top he’s wearing, and it does take the sting out of the fact that he’ll be trying to hit you. He holds his wrapped hands before him, ready to defend, ready to attack. He’ll probably attack, right?

“Last chance,” he growls.

“Is it, though?” This is the third ‘last chance’ you’ve been given in the five minutes you’ve been teetering on combat. You beckon him with a curl of your fingers. “Come on, Sylus. This is getting old.”

He scoffs: “How do you think I feel?”

“Like you’re about to get your ass kicked?”

“Alright, enough.” His hands drop and it feels like you’re back at the academy, about to be scolded for not taking something seriously. Sylus turns his back on you. Moves to the edge of the boxing ring so he can retrieve a stool from outside of it and sit down in a huff. He starts peeling the wraps from his knuckles, and— wait, is he mad? Like, actually mad?

“What’s wrong, Sy?”

He laughs as though you’re missing something dreadfully obvious. Maybe irony.

“Sylus?”

“You really are heartless, sweetie. You know that?”

The words steal your breath away, if only for a moment. Yours is a relationship of pulled punches, but he won’t meet your gaze and that one was real, wasn’t it? He wanted it to sting. “Why—”

“I could have hurt you,” he snaps, his dishevelled, snowy hair falling to cover his eyes. His discarded wraps slide from his hands, pooling by his feet like blood. “You were going to let me hurt you.”

He looks at you, finally, but it’s not in the way you want. His gaze is cast low, trailing over your body and making you feel every bruise, every closed cut that wants to reopen and every ache, rooted almost to bone. You’d done your best to hide it, even going so far as to press make-up hastily over your purpled skin.

That Wanderer really did a number on you yesterday.

“You should have told me,” Sylus says, since you’ve made it onto the same page. “Honestly, kitten. Why would you—”

“Because Luke and Kieran told me, ok?”

Oh, they’re going to kill you. It was supposed to be a secret, and here you are, spilling like a fresh wound because you can’t stand the thought of Sylus being upset with you. You step closer, scrambling to dissect what you’ve done right in front of his eyes— holding it out to him: this is why. This is why. “They said you had a rough week. Some deals of yours had fallen through or something. And I’ve been too busy. I haven’t called, I haven’t even texted, and…”

You need him to understand, but the truth is a mess in your hands and how do you even start to explain it to him?

“You wanted to do something for me,” he finishes for you, and you don’t have to explain a thing.

“Yeah…” you confirm, bittersweet and still sad. “You do so much for me, Sylus. I just wanted to do what you wanted, for a change.”

Maybe it’s a round of boxing. Maybe it’s a dozen illicit dealings where he needs you to play enforcer— it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s happy.

“Come here,” he orders gently.

You close the rest of the rift between you, letting him reach for you and pull you closer. His knees have spread so you can slot against him, and his arms circle around you— trapping you— as he nuzzles into the warmth of your stomach.

“I’m sorry I called you heartless,” he speaks into you, his voice muffled as he gives you a chaste kiss. He then cranes his head upwards, resting his chin against you so he can profess more clearly: “I do worry about you, kitten.”

“I know—” your hands move to his head— “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“Mmm,” he hums in accordance, maybe even forgiveness, and his eyes close as your fingers card through the soft of his hair. “I lied too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confesses on a contented sigh. “I didn’t want to spend today… boxing.”

“What do you want to do today, Sy?”

His eyes flicker open and his hands find your hips. “What I really want…” he contemplates, as his thumbs slip under the hem of your shirt to rub circles on your skin, “is to take care of you.”

There are lifetimes of need in his gaze.

“Won’t you let me take care of you, sweetie?”

…

“If he finds the terms so disagreeable, then he’s more than welcome to take his business elsewhere. Although—” Sylus’s voice is cold— “he might find his other options less… amenable than when he saw them last. Less communicative, too. You can tell him I said so.”

He ends the phone call. Smiles. “Sorry about that, sweetie.”

“Are the boys ok?”

The smile widens, even though you can’t see it. “They’re fine.”

Phone set aside, Sylus carries on with the important business Kieran’s call had distracted him from. You’re half asleep, your head in his lap as he brushes your hair: rose-scented and soft from the bath he’d drawn for you, hours ago. Every bandage is fresh and clean. Every ache has been dulled with a lazy massage and more chaste kisses, for good measure.

“Perfect day,” you mumble blissfully.

“Perfect day,” Sylus agrees.

#🖋rach is actually writing #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #love and deepspace #lads x reader #lads x mc #shen xinghui #li shen #qi yu #qin che #lads #lnds #l&ds

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thebearer · 7 months ago

Text

making the bed |carmen berzatto x reader| part one

prompt: carmen's stressed. food critics, a newborn baby, balancing work life and married life and now dad life; he's bound to break, everyone knows it. but no one ever thought he'd lash out on you.

or, part one of the devastation fic. based off this ask from the other day. two more parts to come.

contains: mega angst. mega angst, with no resolution in this part. hurt, no comfort (in this chapter, will be later in part 3). mean!carmen, very mean. mom!reader x dad!carmen with newborn teddy. fighting, language, carmen says mean stuff he doesn't mean. past mentions of trauma, family trauma, mikey mentioned. very angsty and a little heavy, please read at your own discretion. word count- 3.5k+.

"Are you ok?"

Carmen now understood why that phrase used to send Donna into such a blind rage, lips pursing and jaw clenching more and more every time he heard it. First at work, then with you, it felt never ending.

It was beginning to feel like critic season with how many were coming in, snooty and demanding to be impressed. It couldn't have come at a worst time, right in the middle of busy season with the start of the holidays. Days at The Bear were filled with frantic panic, running around, making sure everything was perfect, accounted for, and Carmen always had the sinking feeling it wasn't- that he'd forgotten something, messed something up.

It wasn't rare for him to work himself up like this, a normal that you always warned him about, but he'd always had a solitude. As long as he'd known you, he'd had a place to go, to unwind, to let himself rest and reset with you. And he still did, it was just shared now with a newborn.

Dorothea Michelle. Teddy, for short. The light of his life, yours too. Nearly two months old with a set of lungs that sounded much louder, much more developed than that. Nights were long, sleepless, spent trying to lull Teddy back to sleep, awake even if he wasn't up with her. Carmen couldn't allow himself the selfishness to relax, to rewind, to "take it easy" like everyone told him to. At work, he was the boss; at home, he was a dad.

"Fuck, fuck," Carmen's sleepy stare was broken by a lick of bubbling heat, the lamb's roux popping with the high heat, splashing all over Carmen's chef whites.

"Jeff, c'mon," Tina clicked, shaking her head, moving the pan to lower heat. "What're you doin'?"

Carmen grit his teeth, snatching a rag off the stainless steel counter tops, scrubbing the burgundy stain, huffing when it only spread the stain.

"What happened?" Sydney turned, looking from the burnt sauce to Carmen's stained chef shirt. "Oh,"

"Do we have a spare coat?" Carmen huffed, throwing the rag down with a firm smack against the counter.

"I don't think so, Carm." Sydney shook her head. "You took the last ones home with you two days ago. The wine-"

"-I know, Chef, I know." Carmen snapped, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I-I can't fuckin' serve the critics lookin' like this. With shit all over me- fuck."

"Hey, easy, easy," Richie turned the corner, his hands held up. "What's goin' on?"

"Jeff got sauce over him. He doesn't have any clean clothes." Tina muttered, irritated that she had to fix his mess, more irritated that he wasn't taking care of himself. You have a baby, Jeff, you need to rest and take some time, she'd told him. Carmen only waved her off.

"Okay, okay, hey, that's no problem." Richie's voice raised, lifting over Carmen's. "You go home and change, get your spare, check on my beautiful goddaughter, and then come back with your A game. Yes?"

Carmen didn't even humor him with a snarky remark, yanking his coat off and stomping towards the office to grab his things. Richie and Tina looked at each other, shaking their head gently.

"Kids runnin' thin, T." Richie muttered with a sigh. "He's gonna break. It's gonna be bad."

"Yeah, he is. Gonna wear himself out before then." Tina shook her head. "Jeff needs a vacation." They both jumped at the slamming of the backdoor, Carmen's angry exit shaking the foundation.

"Needs to be fuckin' medicated. Fuckin' lunatic." Richie scoffed, rolling his eyes at Carmen's dramatics.

The drive home was filled with silence, Carmen's iron grip on the wheel, tearing through the traffic towards the house- his house, his home.

Home, but it didn't provide the same comfort that it usually did. Carmen's shoulders still stayed tense, buzzing with rage, not dissipating when he thought of you, or of Teddy, knowing you'd both be there, excited to see him.

You jumped at the sound of the car door slamming, peeking out the window to see Carmen's parked next to yours, furiously stomping up the front steps. You frowned, grabbing the baby monitor, walking towards the front door.

Carmen nearly hit you with how fiercely he flung the door open. "Woah," You reached for the door, stopping it before he could flick it shut. "Carm, don't slam it. Teddy's asleep. I just got her down." You frowned at him, shutting it slowly.

Carmen looked at you but didn't speak, looking through you with a rage that had your spine tingling before he finally broke his gaze, stomping towards the laundry room. "Carm? What’re you doing home? Don’t you have dinner soon?" You hesitated slightly, lingering in the doorway with an uncertainty you hadn’t felt with Carmen before.

Carmen didn’t answer, his jaw still ground tight while he rummaged through the clean clothes, carelessly unfolding and shifting the folded clothes.

"Carmen," You said more firmly, caching his gaze. He didn't speak still, just stared at you- through you. "Are you ok?" You lifted a brow, features softening in worry.

Carmen paused, eyes closing, shoulders tensing in agitation. Are you ok? His ears rang, a familiar rage that he hadn't felt in years bubbling up deep in his chest. Frustrated and blinding and rampant, heat rushing through his veins, pulling himself further and further from reality into someplace different- someplace darker in his mind.

"What's wrong?" You pressed, he could barely hear it, ears ringing at your question. "Did something happen? Did the critic come-"

"-Where's my chef whites?" Carmen barked, cutting you off, his chest tightening more and more with every heavy heave of his chest. You flinched at his tone.

"Uh, I-I haven't seen the whites. I washed your white tee-"

“-You what? Y-You what?” Carmen spat, eye widening with a wild, raged glint in his eye. Your stomach flipped and fell with fear, stepping back instinctively.

“I-I washed your tee, Carm, that’s all that you left in the laundry basket-”

"-Are you fucking kidding me?" Carmen boomed, his head spinning, body buzzing with rage. Your breath hitched, frozen in fear at the anger in his tone, the roar of his voice bouncing off the walls, echoing through your ears in a painful drum.

Carmen moved, snatching the dirty clothes basket, dumping it into the ground with a shake until the dirty chef coat fell on top. He gripped the basket, flinging it across the room with a hard throw. The final push to his bad mood that sent him right over the edge, crashing into a pit of blinding fury, aggravation, breaking him from the inside out.

"Fuck!" Carmen roared, his voice shaking the walls, your breath leaving your lungs in a trembling exhale of fear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is- This is- Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

You tensed in shock, gripping the baby monitor in fear, maybe surprise, as it started to buzz to life with Teddy's startled whimpers. Her small cries pulled you out of your frozen state, something deeper than fear replacing the ache in your stomach.

"Carmen-" You gaped, voice wobbling with uncertainty, taking slow shuffled steps towards the stairs. “Carmen, calm-calm down. Ok? Calm down.”

“Calm down? You want me to fuckin’ calm down?” Carmen sneered, an angry red flush blossoming in splotchy deep hues up his neck, towards his cheeks. “You don’t do shit, nothin’ that I fuckin’ ask for! Just sit around all fuckin’ day an-and I’m supposed to calm down?”

“Carmen,” Your voice wobbled, throat tight with tears, hurt and fear strangling your words. “I-You didn’t ask me to wash them. I-I didn’t know. They weren’t in the hamper-”

“-I shouldn’t have to ask you to wash them!” Carmen roared, eyes so wide you thought they might pop right out of his head, neck vein protruding on exemplifying his rage. “You know what I’m going through! You know how much fuckin’ stress I’m under! I go to that-that shit hole, an-and work my fuckin’ ass off so you don’t have to! Then I come home, and I-I can’t even get a second of peace!”

“Stop,” You hiss, finally regaining your composure, his words fully sinking into you now, feeling the full effect of them. “I-I just had a baby. I’m still on maternity leave taking care of a baby- our baby, and I’m tired too. But I’m not yelling at you-”

“-Oh, right. Right.” Carmen laughs sarcastically, humorless as he runs his hand down his face. It felt mocking, left you feeling small and too vulnerable for your liking. “Because in between your napping an-and feeding, you couldn’t stick a fucking jacket in the wash, right? You’re so busy.”

“What is wrong with you?” You snap, hoping he can’t hear the tears in your voice, the way your voice shakes with emotion.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” Carmen scoffs, throwing his hands out. “I get no fuckin' sleep, go work my fuckin' ass off, a-and then I come home so I can go back and work my ass off some more, and-and you can’t do one simple fuckin’ thing? You can’t help me out? And then you wanna know what’s wrong with me? When you sit on your ass all fuckin’ day-”

Teddy’s piercing wail pulls you out of your shocked trance, nose and throat burning with hurt filled tears you refuse to shed. Instead, you turn, climbing the stairs on shaky legs, the sound of Teddy’s cries growing louder and louder. Anchovy watches you from the top of the stairs, sensing the tension, your upset, sliding against your leg as if to comfort you.

Carmen scoffs, hands buzzing and trembling with rage, the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder with each of your footsteps on the stairs and down the hall. He can barely hear Teddy’s sobs, hands threading through his hair, pulling at his scalp. He sees you walk towards the bedroom, quickly, hugging Teddy to your chest.

“Oh, don’t go fuckin’ do it now!” Carmen roared, your ignoring him only infuriating him further. “It won’t be ready in time now. I’ll just look like a fuckin’ idiot for the critic tonight! Not that you care! Why would you, huh? I-I mean just our livelihood, just our fuckin’ income!”

You swallowed back your tears, head tilting towards the ceiling, hands shaking with every shove of your things into the overnight bag. Just enough to get you through the night, the next day. A few essentials, Teddy’s spare onesies, a charger, your wallet- you stopped mid-shove of your items into the weekender bag, the sun’s rays catching in your wedding ring. Your heart fell, more and more, you weren’t sure how that was even possible.

Carmen’s furious voice was still booming from downstairs, ringing and shaking in his furious fit. Richie and Sugar both warned you about Carmen’s tantrums, brought them up to embarrass him, tease him about it until he was red faced and hissing hushed threats at them. You never, never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be on the receiving end of one.

You jumped, another slam of something Carmen had thrown, maybe hit in a fit of rage, causing Teddy to wail louder, Anchovy skittering nervously away. Tears leaked out of your eyes, twisting the ring off your finger, setting it on Carmen’s bedside table. Pulling the carrier out of the closet, Anchovy got in much easier than usual, which you were thankful for.

Carmen was gripping the marble of the countertop when he heard you again, walking from the bottom of the stairs, quick steps towards the door to the garage, Teddy’s voice nearly hoarse from her crying. You kept your head high, tunnel-visioned towards your car, ignoring his heavy breathing and frantic pacing.

“Wha-What are you doin’?” Carmen’s voice was softer now, still with a jagged edge that was cutting and harsh. The car door opened, the baby carrier hooked into the car seat.

“Hey, wha- what are you- where’re you goin’? What’re you doin’?” Carmen’s heart dropped in a damning rush of hour, stumbling on heavy legs towards the garage. You ignored him, shushing Teddy gently, running a calming hand over her wet cheek, trying to coax her paci into her mouth.

“Baby, no-no, no. Hey, no, I-I- What-” Carmen’s chest felt tight, mind numbing and racing, stuttering nervously. You reached for your bag, his hand reaching to grab the strap. “Whe-Where’re you-”

“-Don’t touch me.” You hissed, teeth bared, eyes shining with tears. Carmen flinched, pulling his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.” You sneered, pinning him with a watery glare that had his stomach turning in sickening fear.

“Baby, hey, w-wait-C’mon, d-don’t-You don’t, you don’t need to do this, ok? I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Carmen choked out the words, frantic and unsure, his hands shaking when they ghosted over you back just for a moment. Wanting to touch you, to hold you, to grab you and keep you from leaving, but too scared to. Instead, he grabbed the car door you flung open, holding it when you tried to yank it closed.

“Let go.” You hissed, sniffling back wet, snotty tears of fury and hurt.

“Please, don’t-do-don’t do this. Please, baby, I-I’m sorry.” Carmen begged, blue eyes deepening with the burning red hues of tears, bloodshot and lashes wet. “Don’t-Don’t do this-”

“-I didn’t do this.” You sneered, leaving Carmen flinching at your words. “Don’t you dare try to say this was me. After how you just talked to me? The shit you said to me in there? You think I’m going to stay?” Your voice cracked with emotion, lips pressing together to keep a cry in.

“No, no, no, no, no, baby, please. Please, ju-just come inside. Come inside, please? Please, don’t-”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. To say that kinda stuff to me. That hurt, Carmen. That was mean.” You glared at him, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. “I don’t care if you’re stressed. I don’t care what’s going on- nothing, and I mean nothing, warrants you talking to me like that. Just because you fucked up, because you forgot to ask me to do it, because you’re stressed out- I don’t care what it is. You don’t talk to me like that, say those things when I’ve been home all day taking care of my ch- our child.” You nod back towards the sniffling baby, whimpering and crying half heartedly, her little eyelids drooping with sleep that was interrupted.

Carmen felt sick, his knees tightening in fear, he was sure they might give out, that he might fall to the ground right there. Looking at the tiny baby, lip jutted and shaking in the mirror hooked on the back of the seat, then back at you, eyes red-rimmed and glaring at him with a hurt filled anger.

“Don’t-” Carmen’s chest shook, a white-knuckled grip on the door.

Your own hand curled around the door’s inner handle, yanking it away from him. “Move,” You hissed, pulling again.

Carmen wasn’t sure why he let it go, why he let you shut it, locking the door in case he tried to open it again. Why he let you pull out of the driveway, why he didn’t stop you, why he didn’t run after you, only taking soft shuffles down the drive like a zombie as you drove away. Standing in the drive, Carmen swallowed down the spit that pooled in his mouth, stomach churning, sure he was going to be sick.

He managed to trudge back to the garage, mind racing and far away, the ringing in his ears dulling but still deafening. It felt like he was in a dream- a nightmare, a hallucinating trance that felt like a sick, sick dream- Carmen was hoping it was. That he’d wake up and find you next to him asleep. That he could hug you, pull you into him, nose buried in your neck, still warm from your slumber.

As the sun began to sink low into the sky, minutes turning into hours that Carmen sat motionless in the garage, staring in a trancelike state, he realized that this wasn’t a dream or a nightmare. No this was his reality, a horrific reality that he’d made into his own. Carmen sat, eyes trained on the concrete of the garage, voice racing and blending in his mind- his words, yours, Teddy’s cries, Natalie and Richie’s, flashbacks of his mother screaming fits.

He didn’t move, frozen in chilling, eerie fear. What ifs and terrifying possible scenarios, consequences to his own actions that left him feeling sick, hands trembling. A spiraling of fears that only drug him deeper and deeper with every haunting replay of his outburst. Even the flashing of headlights turning into the driveway, filling the garage with light, didn’t pull him from his trance.

“The fuck is he- Cousin!” Richie roared, laying on the horn. Carmen didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge that he heard it, only stared. Richie frowned, turning the car off, throwing the door open.

“Cousin? Carm? What-What are you doin’? Dinner service started an hour ago. Syd is freakin’ the fuck out.” Richie threw his hands up, walking towards the man who still didn’t move. Richie’s heart skipped, flashbacks of Mikey flooding into his vision, parallels of the two brothers blurring before him.

“Yo, Carm, you-you good?” Richie stepped into the garage, his spine tingling with icy fear. It was quiet, an eerie, unsettling quiet. “Cousin, hey, what-what’s wrong?”

Carmen's chest rose and fell, tighter and tighter. He was suffocating, head spinning and mind racing so fast he felt light headed. He could barely hear Richie’s voice over the noise in his head, Richie’s hand shaking his shoulder finally breaking his trance enough to meet his eyes, rounded in fear filled question.

“Carmen, what’s wrong? Is it- Don’t fuckin’ tell me it’s the baby. What the fuck is goin’ on-”

“-She left.” Carmen’s voice shook, raspy and scared. His tongue still felt too thick, head still spinning. He wasn’t even sure he said it, Richie’s widening eyes the only thing confirming that he had said it.

“What? Who-Who left? Who?” Richie looked around, like the clues might be there, sure that Carmen wasn’t talking about you. No, he wouldn’t- he couldn’t. Not you.

Carmen’s breath hitched, a strangling of a sob caught in his throat, running his hand over his face. Richie didn’t miss the way it trembled, shaking even as it rested over his eyes. Your car was gone, the house too quiet, no baby Teddy crying, nothing but silence was left.

Richie’s heartbeat crawled into a rapid, scared pace. “Why? Wh-Why would she-” Richie looked at Carmen, eyes wide but still, reading his expression. “No. No, Cousin, no. What-What did you do? Carmen,” Richie grabbed both his shoulders, shaking him lightly until he met his gaze. “What did you do?”

Carmen’s face began to crack, behind his eyes, Richie could see flashbacks of something- something he didn’t know what, but whatever it was, it was painful. That was evident by the fear that glossed over Carmen’s eyes, realization and horror. Carmen’s shoulders shook, frame rocking with a sob he tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Deep cries, guttural sobs breaking out of his frame, heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, fingers curled and clenched around his greasy curls in agony.

The damning realization flooded over him, that you’d left.

You’d left, you’d taken Teddy, taken Anchovy- you’d left because he’d driven you away. His angry outburst, petulant, mean, hurtful- he’d been so cruel to you. You. His wife, the love of his life, mother of his child, the one person who loved him endlessly without stipulations or boundaries, the one person who truly understood him.

And he’d driven you away.

He wished he could blame his mom, his dad, his family for fucking him up so severely, maybe Mikey, even, for leaving him the shit show that was the restaurant, making his anxieties worse and fuse shorter. But sitting in the empty garage, Richie standing above him in silent shock, his sobs and angry sniffles echoing off the cement floor, Carmen knew he had no one to blame but himself.

He’d fucked up. Really fucked up. Fucked up in a way that made all the other times look obsolete.

Carmen had fucked up, and for once, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t avoid it, ignore it, deflect it like other times. Half hearted apologies and promises of change wouldn’t work, you weren’t here for him to even try to give them to you, and he didn’t know where you went.

Carmen wasn’t sure where you went, how to fix this, why he’d done what he did, and a million other things that raced through his mind. What he did know, sitting in the too quiet garage, chest stuttering with heaving cries, was that he’d do anything.

Anything, to get you back home. To make it right. To fix this and make it up to you.

He wasn’t sure how, but he’d give up everything. Anything. His restaurant, his dreams, his hopes, his life, at this point, to make it up to you.

2K notes · View notes

sunrizef1 · 4 months ago

Text

Bed Chem

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x Reader

Warnings: None

Authors Note: Im working lateeee cuz I'm too busy pretending Logan has a seatttt | this took so long actually wtf

TWITTER

MESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

📍Paris, France

liked by iamrebeccad carlossainz55 and 12,888,999 others

yourusername what a show @givenchy

load comments…

user1 mother

user2 my queen

user3 prettyyyyyyyyyyy

user4 🤭

iamrebeccad my fav girl 💋

liked by yourusername

user5 hot

user6 ❤️❤️

user7 I'm in love

user8 the sheer is giving

user9 I love you pls reply 😭

user10 my favvvvvvv I love HERRRRRR

user11 NEW MUSIC PLEASE BAE

carlosainz55 do you know your dress is see-through 😓

yourusername its givenchy!

user12 I need that dress 😭

user13 Y/N WHATS YOUR OPINION ON LOGAN SARGEANT

theweeknd 🔥

liked by yourusername

user14 MY pop icon

——

MESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

yourusername added to their story

iamrebeccad

🫶

yourusername

ilyyyy 💋

——

carlossainz55

y do u insist on calling me father so much

yourusername

Mama y papa

carlossainz55

what

yourusername

Papa y mama

carlossainz55

Okay

——

MESSAGES

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername added to their story

user1

NEW MUSIC???????

——

user2

IS THAT JACK????

——

iamrebeccad

Wait!!! What!!!

Can I hear it 🤭

yourusername

Ofc love 🤞

iamrebeccad

Is it about a certain American….

yourusername

Ahhh

Can't say 😶

iamrebeccad

That's a yes to me

——

MESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

yourusername added to their story

user1

ARE YOU GOING TO THE RACE QUEEN

——

user2

Logan????

——

carlossainz55

Are you finally coming to a race???

yourusername

I have to be in Paris Sunday for a shoot 🫣

But I will be there the other days

But secretly

So don't tell anyone 😶

carlossainz55

Your secrets safe with me 🤐

——

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

🎵Paris - Taylor Swift

liked by logansargeant carlossainz55 and 12,999,888 others

yourusername je pense que vous souffrez d'un manque de vitamine moi

load comments…

user15 oui oui oui baguette

user16 viva la France

user17 someone call char lechair

user18 I thought she was gonna be at the race 😓

user19 BESTIE YOUR BOYFRIEND FINISHED 8TH DID YOU SEE

liked by yourusername

user19 SHE LIKED THIS COMMENTTTT

user20 “I think you're suffering from a lack of vitamin me” lmfao the caption

user21 wait what does the paper say????

user22 “I'm so fucking sick of having to hide how deeply I feel and how passionately I love you”

user21 WAIT THATS ADORABLEEEE

user23 my francophile queen

user24 I didn't know the Eiffel tower was so small

user25 this is so aesthetic core

user26 the yellow Parisian lighting really makes it

user27 I can name a certain American who's probably suffering from a lack of you

oscarpiastri oui

yourusername ok

user28 Oscar and y/n: my fav deadpan icons

user29 ooh la la huh huh huh 🥐

user30 are you happy to be in Paris?

yourusername oui

user31 y/n whats your favourite part of Paris

yourusername smells of piss. Constantly.

user32 pretty pretty pretty girl

logansargeant 🇫🇷🥐

liked by yourusername

user33 THE SONG FOR THE POST BEING PARIS BY TAYLOR???? IM SO IN LOVE THAT I MIGHT STOP BREATHING DREW A MAP ON YOUR BEDROOM CEILING???? She's in love!!!!!

——

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername added to their story

user1

LOGAN??????

——

user2

boyfriend spotted

——

user3

Soft launch?????

——

user4

don't be shy

Post him on the feed

——

carlossainz55

you're welcome

I was the messenger

I did this

——

yourusername

liked by logansargeant maxverstappen1 and 15,999,800 others

yourusername surprise! My new single “bed chem” is out now… come sleep with me 💋🛏️

load comments…

user34 WOOOOOO

user35 its so good 😭🫶😭😭🫶

user36 LOGANNNNNNNNN

user37 no tag????

user38 the first verse just being the most thinly veiled reference to the givenchy show… like girl 😭

user39 “I was in a sheer dress the day that we met” we've all seen the black dress 🤭

user40 “we were both in a rush we talked for a sec” that one video of them lmfao

user41 “your friend hit me up so we could connect” I say that's Oscar.

user42 Ive chosen to believe its Alex

user43 THIS SONGS ABOUT LOGAN?????

user44 “manifest that you're oversized” I'm going to pretend this isn't about Logan so I still see him again

oscarpiastri a lot of words I don't want to hear about my friend btw

yourusername well… idc

user45 who's the cute guy with the wide blue eyes? 😍

carlossainz55 ive finally made it into a song

liked by yourusername

user46 ok wait but the Paris pic is so cute 😭

user47 those messages are so funny 😭

user48 he only has eyes for his girl 🤭

iamrebeccad SO GOODDDDDD

yourusername 🫶

user49 I sense logie bear

user50 Logan Sargeant hard launch on the feed

logansargeant 🔥

yourusername 💋

——

logansargeant added to their story

yourusername

Ily lo 💋💋💋💋

logansargeant

🤭🫶

——

Taglist:

@c-losur3 @llando4norris @lokideservesahug @casperlikej @evie-119 @awritingtree

1K notes · View notes

mischievousmoony · 5 months ago

Note

hi, ok i have another idea for a fic which again totally up to you to write!! but i had an idea with dad!james and r where their kid is like equally obsessed with their mum as james is with r and one day james decides to prank their kid by saying something bad about the r while their kid is present and the baby just goes off. i feel like you would do an amazing job with this! feel free to ignore too. have a perfectly splendid day!!

-🪷

"the baby just goes off" painted a hilarious picture of an infant yelling at his dad in my mind lmao. ty for the request this warmed my heart to write + special thanks to @moonpascal for chatting a little about kids, gave me the reassurance & inspiration i needed

𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜

⟢ dad!james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.1k ⟢ warnings/tags: fluff, dad/husband!james, mom/wife!reader, no use of y/n, no name for the son, idk how to write a child's dialogue tbh son's supposed to sound 4 years old

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

James gladly goes out of his way to mention to anyone who will listen that his little one is unmistakably a Mummy's boy. From family to friends to the poor souls who bag his groceries, James will talk the ear off of anyone he can.

He finds it to be the most endearing thing in the world— the way that your son is as obsessed with you as James is. Always staying close and clinging to you, touching affection radiating from every hug and smile.

Today, as he watches his son run back and forth across the carpet, handing his mother block after block just to see her face light up after each gift, his awe and admiration are insurmountable.

Last night, James surprised you with a pair of earrings that you have been wishing for. When your face lit up upon receiving the little leatherette box, so did your son's. He didn't quite understand why you were so excited about some cube, but since then he's been trying to replicate your excitement with presents of his own.

"Oh my! Another one! Thank you, buddy," you beam, you're gratefulness and delight unwavering as he hands you the sixth block.

Your son giggles, bouncing in his spot as you inspect each side of the little wooden toy, telling him how much you adore the blue penguin painted on one of its faces.

That's another thing that touches James' heart: the tender nurture and care that you bestow upon your son with such unwavering devotion and warmth. It has James convinced that you must be the best mum in the entire world.

He might just melt at the sight of you now, kneeling happily in front of a growing pile of blocks as your son scurries back and forth, adding to your collection. James sits cross-legged to your right, resting his elbow on his knee and laying his head in his hand, watching the two he loves most in the world with hearts in his eyes.

You gasp, as if surprised when handed block number seven. "Oh, this is my favorite one yet. How did you know I love zebras?" you ask, your thumb tracing over the red acrylic paint on the side of the block.

By the time you have twelve, nearly half of his collection, you say, "I have a lot of blocks here, buddy, do you want to give some to Daddy?"

"No!" your son protests immediately, running off to his toy box for the thirteenth time.

You and James both chuckle, exchanging amused glances. Finding your son's reaction hilarious, James’s mischievous side has him dreaming up new ways to push his buttons. Your son thinks the world of you, and James is curious to see what the little guy will do if he claims otherwise.

"Well, what am I gonna do with all of this? Should I..."

You leave your son in suspense for a moment, and his hands hover over his toy box as looks at you, hanging onto your every word in anticipation.

"...build a castle!?"

“Yeah!” your son cheers, scooping three more blocks into his arms, thrilled to supply the bricks for your castle.

James nudges you, a sign of his upcoming playfulness. “You sure about that, bud? Mummy is absolutely rotten at building castles.”

Halfway across the carpet, your son stops in his tracks, glaring at his father as he tries to keep his blocks from falling out of his arms.

Stifling a laugh, you press your fingertips to your lips. By now, you’re used to James’ bursts of mischief, and you’re more than happy to sit back and let them play out. Unless you’re an active participant, of course.

You muster up a scandalized gasp as he reaches for your mountain of presents, claiming three blocks in one hand.

“No!” your little one complains, rushing to drop his three in your lap to replace the ones that James stole, “those are Mummy’s!”

“You sure Mummy deserves all these blocks?” James asks, starting to stack them into a tower, “You watch, I’ll build a castle that’ll make her’s look like rubbish.”

Your son hastily makes his way over to his dad, both arms extended as he collides with the tower and sends the blocks flying. "Stop it," he says as he scoops up the nearest block and runs it back over to you, shouting, "Mummy's castles are the best!"

He climbs into your lap, clutching onto the toy tightly as one of your arms wraps around him, and you feel your heart start to melt as you rub soothing circles into his back. You look over your son's head, your eyes sparkling with affection as you meet your husband's tender gaze.

Not having the heart to mess with him for very long, James concedes, "You're right, I'm not being very nice, am I?"

"Nuh-uh!" your son replies, shaking his head with exaggeratedly vigor, the curls he gets from his dad bouncing about.

"What can I do to make it up to her?" James asks, turning the ordeal into a subtle lesson as he dramatically feigns sorrow and despair over his actions.

"'Pologize," your son commands, his head swiveling to look at James expectantly over his shoulder.

James puts on his most sheepish, apologetic smile, looking from his son to you. "I'm very sorry. He's right, your castles are the best. Can you forgive me, love?"

"Aw, of course I forgive you," you say warmly, your amusement manifesting as a wide smile. You lean back so you can get a good view of your son's face when you tell him, "You know, I bet what Daddy really wants is to build a castle with us. I love your presents, bud, but we don't want to leave Daddy out do we?"

He looks down at the block in his little hand. "No," he replies shyly.

"So why don't you ask him to build a castle with us?" You give him a pat on the back before releasing him from your arms. "Go on," you coax.

He steps closer to James, holding the block close to his chest. "We can all build a castle," he offers.

"Yeah?" James' face lights up, and it's not for show. Genuine joy takes over his features as he ruffles your son's hair, responding, "I'd love nothing more, little man."

"But you have to be nice to Mummy!" he demands, his little voice firm and earnest as he looks up at James with wide, serious eyes.

"I promise, I will be on my best behavior," James assures him, his voice sincere as he gives a playful salute. That's enough for your son, because he finally awards James with his very first block, which he accepts with pride.

"Good!" your son cheers, already moving on to the pile of blocks to start stacking them as he proclaims, "Mummy is the best, and we have to show it!"

Your lips part as you suck in a breath, a quiet gasp. Receiving your son's affection never fails to make your heart swell.

You don't feel James' eyes on you, but he's watching— admiring, more like, as he takes in the way that you soften at your son's sweet words. A smitten smile plays at his lips as he agrees, "She is the best, isn't she?"

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

2K notes · View notes

propertyofwicked · 7 months ago

Text

WANTED - LN

based on this request ✧ my inbox is open for requests (or if u just want a chat!) ✧

warnings - smut! MDNI!! jealous!lando, fingering + oral (fem receiving), possessive!! unprotected (stay safe yall), spitting, light slapping (u have been warned) not proofread

ur girl has finally officially finished first year!! i have never felt so freeee (im ignoring the fact i now have to move out rip) (also osc p2 monaco lets gooooo)

masterlist the playlist

lando had been busy lately, too busy. between races, training, and quadrant, it seemed like he barely had any time to himself, or to spend with y/n. she understood, of course, she knew how demanding his career was - but understanding didn't make the loneliness any easier to bear.

and even when he was around, it’s like he wasn’t there at all, not for her at least.

everyone was stood around at the end of a quadrant shoot - it had only been filmed at max’s house so the group settled into the living room easily. y/n there to accompany lando since she had little else to do, desperate to spend any time she could with her boyfriend before he flew off to the next race - even if it did mean sleeping in max’s spare room.

lando stood on the opposite side of the room, talking almost exclusively to max, whilst she sat on the sofa, alone.

y/n didn’t think anything of it when will came and sat next to her, showing her a meme on his phone that she laughed at. and she didn’t think anything of it when they continued the friendly conversation. it felt good to be noticed, to have someone ask her how she’d been - maybe she laughed a little too much at a joke that wasn’t funny, maybe it was just the first time anyone had shown her any attention in a while.

across the room, lando watched the interaction with a frown. he saw the way y/n laughed, the way she leaned in a little too close to his friend. he knew he had been neglecting her, but seeing her with someone else made his blood boil. he wasn’t possessive, no, and usually the sight of his girlfriend laughing with their friends didn’t strike any anger in him. but this was different.

“— we can post that next week sometime?” max said, interrupting his thoughts.

“yeah, yeah - sounds good,” lando replied, not really listening, “i’ll be back in a minute, just need to do something,” he added before striding across the room, leaving max stood alone, his face contorting into slight confusion.

“hey," lando said to the two, his voice low, "mind if i steal her for a minute?"

will looked somewhat confused, but nodded. lando reached out, taking y/n wrist before yanking her from the sofa, pulling them into the hallway. the door shut behind them, y/n’s mouth opened, ready to ask him what was so urgent.

"lando, what are you—"

but he didn't let her finish, pushing her against the wall, his hands on either side of her head, caging her in.

"what the hell were you doing?" he demanded, his eyes sharpening with jealousy. he was met with her eyes glaring up at him in defiance.

"i was having a conversation, lando. something i rarely do with you because you're always so busy."

"so your idea of fun is flirting with my friends?" his jaw clenching.

"flirting?" she shot back, shocked, “he was asking me how i was?”

“and that’s why you were two seconds away from giggling and twirling you hair for him, no?” lando continued to argue, anger still bubbling in him as one hand dropped to her hip, gripping tightly.

“ok, i was flirting with him and now, we’re going to run away and live a long and happy life together - is that what you wanna hear?” she continued, shrugging slightly as she sighed at the ridiculousness.

he stared at her for a long moment, his chest heaving. without warning, he crashed his lips onto hers roughly, his possessiveness filled with pent-up frustration and desire he'd been ignoring for weeks. y/n responded instantly, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue swiping her bottom lip, begging for more.

"lan," she breathed out as he broke the kiss, whining slightly as his mouth moved to press kisses down her neck, nipping at the flesh harshly, "there’s people here."

"’don't care," he growled against her skin. "you're mine, and im going to remind you of that."

he kissed her again, his hands roaming over her body, gripping at her hips. she moaned into his mouth, her resistance melting away. she was engulfed in him, the way he touched her, the way he pushed her further into the wall as his hips rolled into hers.

"need you," she breathed when he pulled back for air, his forehead resting against hers.

he nodded, his pupils blown with his own need.

"come on," he told her, taking her hand to guide them up the stairs to max’s spare room.

stumbling through the door, clothes already being discarded, lando pushed her onto the bed, his eyes raking over her body.

"you're so beautiful," he murmured, crawling over her. "and mine. only mine."

"only yours," she whispered, pulling him down to kiss him again.

“gonna need you to be quiet f’me, ok?” he told her as his lips trailed her body, his body sliding down the bed till he was resting on his knees. he pulled her legs closer to him so his face was level with her heat, her hips moved upwards, desperate for anything after weeks of nothing.

“patience, angel,” lando breathed out, moving his finger to toy with her clit slowly. he wrapped an arm around her leg, pulling it over his shoulder as he rests his forearm over her stomach, stopping her wriggling. his finger returns to her folds, slowly he pushing a digit inside her, feeling the stretch around him. his lips joined onto her clit, sucking harshly as he added a second finger, curling them up into her.

“please lan,” she moaned out, unsure of what she was even asking for.

his fingers never faltered, continuing their assault as they hit that spot that had her pushing her hips up, his tongue circling her clit once more before he pulled his face away from her heat. his eyes flittered from looking up at her before moving back to watch as his fingers disappeared inside her. she tightened around him, her breathing heavier as she began to fall apart for him. she was getting fidgety, her moans gaining in volume as his thumb returned to her clit, rubbing deep circles, his other hand still pushing two fingers into her at an alarming rate.

“shush angel,” lando told her, before trailing his spare hand up her body and pushing his thumb into her mouth slowly. her hand moved to grip his arm as her tongue glided along his thumb. as much as he wanted to hear her, as much as he wanted everyone to know who she belonged to, he also wanted her all to himself - no one else deserved to hear her fall apart for him.

his mouth barely had time to return to her clit before her legs were shaking around him, clamping around his head periodically as she came around his fingers.

“good girl,” lando mumbled against her thigh, his fingers slowing inside her as she rode out her high.

“need more lan, please,” y/n begged, pulling at his arm to bring his body back to hover over hers.

“so needy,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her lips, allowing her to taste herself.

“been too long,” she told him, a hand reaching down to tug at his hardened length a few times.

he would’ve felt guilty about neglecting her needs for so long, if it wasn’t for the feeling of her fingers wrapping around him, her thumb circling his tip before spreading pre cum down his cock.

“let me make it up to you,” lando told her, pressing a kiss to her jaw, before taking himself in his hands and running his tip through her slick folds. he pushed into her roughly, finding himself desperate to feel her after so long.

“breathe for me angel,” he told her, pulling out slightly as he felt the way her body tense,, “feel so good.”

his cock pushed into her again, setting a steady pace as he leant back over to kiss her harshly.

“feels good,” she told him, eyes looking into his. his necklace dangled from his neck, the cool metal settling on her skin.

“yeah? ‘my the only person who makes you feel like this?” he asked bitingly.

“you snatched me away before will had the chance to do a better job,” she teased cautiously.

lando pushed himself back, rising to stand at the end of the bed, his cock never leaving her. he pulled her legs again, yanking her roughly to the edge of the bed before pulling one of her legs over his shoulder. her eyes began to glaze over from the new position, his length thrusting into her tightening walls at a relentless pace. however, a sharp sting on her cheek brought her back to reality, sending shots of pleasure to her core whilst tears pricked her eyes. lando’s had slapped at her face lightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to tell her that she had pissed him off a little too much.

“you wanna say that shit again?” he grunted, slowing his pace to roll his hips into hers tauntingly.

she genuinely considered it for a moment, contemplating how possessive he could get if she teased him further, but his fingers dipped into her cheek, holding her jaw tight.

she shook her head quickly as if to say no, refraining from flinching as his hand moved, but this time it fell gently, stroking her cheek where it stung.

“good answer,” lando added, returning to a regular pace, “you gonna behave now?”

“i wi- will,” she choked out, nodding despite his grip on her face, “i promise.”

satisfied with her answer, his fingers moved to toy with her clit. using the leg over his shoulder and her other leg wrapped around his waist as an anchor, her hips rose from the bed, moving in circular motions to match the pattern his fingers drew on her heat. lando’s free hand gripped at her calf, pulling her closer to him, deepening his thrusts. the tip of his cock pressing desperately into her as she whimpered and moaned his name.

lando leaned forward to kiss her, letting her leg over his shoulder drop to his waist so that she wasn’t folded literally in half. y/n wrapped around him tightly, pulling him in to kiss her deeper, tongues clashing as his thrusts faltered slightly. he balanced on his arm as his head dropped from her lips, his teeth nipping at the skin of her breast before his lips wrapped around her nipple, his free hand moved to grip tightly onto her other breast, fingers toying with her.

y/n whimpered, trying to keep quiet as she remembered how many people were also in the house. lando smirked to himself, loving the way she sounded, the way her heat gripped around his length as he moved inside her. his teeth pulled at the skin of her breast again, the flesh moving with him as he pulled away before dropping, bouncing slightly as it landed.

“so pathetic,” he grunted, feeling his high coming rapidly as he looked at her head thrown back. her mouth hung open, heavy breaths escaping, and her nails gripped tightly into the skin of his bicep. his other hand moved to settle lightly on her neck, thumb and index finger holding her jaw open for him. lando’s face hovered above hers, their eyes locking as a trail of spit fell from his mouth, landing on her tongue. he watched as she swallowed it, before re-joining their lips in a messy kiss.

“look at you, taking me so well,” he cooed, “’m so stupid for neglecting you,” he added, his tone softening from his previous frustration.

“not stupid,” she reassured, kissing his jaw.

“i love you,” he told her softly, despite his hips quickening in their movement, feeling the way her legs tightened as she got closer to her climax. his lips returned to her neck, sucking softly at the flesh, blood running cold as his ears picked up on the way she panted out his name.

“lan, baby, im go-”

“i know,” he told her, eyes squeezing shut, “let go baby, i got you.”

she came hard and fast around him, the tightening of her walls bringing him to his own climax.

“can i come inside?” he asked her, almost begging. she nodded rapidly, unable to talk as her mind became fuzzy.

“fuck,” he grunted, hips snapping into hers desperately before shooting ropes of warm cum into her, filling her completely, “all mine,” he said, more to himself than her.

lando pulled out slowly, careful of the way her eyes screwed up from the sting before rolling to lay next to her, chests heaving in unison. he turned his head to face her, noting the bruises forming on her neck and her chest, till his eyes settled on the red flush of her cheek.

“i didn’t hurt you did i?” he asked softly, hand reaching up to stroke at the redness.

“not really, it was hot,” she said with a shrug, smirking as she turned her head to face him.

“noted,” lando replied, laughing lightly.

“love it when you get possessive,” y/n added, cautious with her next statement, “makes me feel wanted.”

“im sorry i ever made you feel unwanted, angel. i never meant to,” he sighed, pulling her body close to his so that her head rested on his bare chest, “ill do better i promise.”

“i know you will, lan - i just wish i didn’t have to ask to be wanted, you know?” she told him, her fingers stroking lightly at his shoulder.

“you are wanted, y/n,” he repeated fiercely, “you are everything to me. i think i just got too comfortable with how things were, i jus- it took the thought of you leaving, the thought of you with someone else to bring me back to reality.”

“i am yours lando, forever,” she assured him, holding out her pinky to join his, “i promise. besides, if you keep fucking me like that i don’t think i could ever leave,” she joked.

“yeah?”

“but if you keep spitting in my mouth i may go completely feral, you won’t be able to get rid of me,” she said, smirking up at him, “do that again and you’re actually having my children.”

“that’s…not possible?” he questioned, smiling at her.

“so you don’t love me? is what you’re saying?” she asked, pushing herself up to look in dead in the eyes, her mouth straining to stay clamped shut in fear of laughing.

“i fear for what i have started,” lando laughed, pulling her back tightly into his chest.

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