#i mean it started in a very different world than the world it exists in now

[cirusthecitrus]

Dissecting Horde Prime's titles

So do you remember the time when this polite lil gentleman dropped HP's long ass title at us? Which is-

The Emperor of the Galactic Horde, Ruler of the Known Universe, Regent of the Seven Skies, He Who brings the Day and the Night, Revered One of the Shinging Galaxies, Promised One of a Thousands Suns!!! AND I'm pretty sure there were a couple more left unsaid before Scorpia shut bro up All those pompous titles could simply be a bunch of clashing words thrown at the heroes to show how absurd and fullish and superficial the Galactic Horde empire truly is. But I'm willing to analyze each and every one of them and, as always, find more meaning that was probably originally intended And my first question is: is this really who Prime is known as in the Known Universe? Do people on other planets accept him as any of those things?? Or is it something only the clones actually know about and they are the only ones to whom Prime's titles hold any meaning at all? Did he made this all up? Is it yet another lie to make them believe their god is more important and powerful than he is? To make it seem like their servitude is even more noble and honourable, to make it seem more like a privilege? Or are those actually normal legitable titles for intergalactic rulers and emperors? Is Prime a simple menace to the universe and a self-declared ruler or a recognized big political and spiritual figure?

The second big question is - if those titles are real, where do they even come from and what do they mean? It is possible that HP's given himself this long list of titles as yet another way to elevate himself above everyone else, demonstrate his importance and simply stroke his own ego. But he might've also be given those titles by someone else. For something he did for or to the world So let's go through all of them one by one and try to guess the meaning behind them The Emperor of the Galactic Horde, Ruler of the Known Universe - yeah these ones are pretty self explanatory. Though it is still unsertain if he was officially declared a ruler of the whole universe or Prime just thinks everything he sees belongs to him even thought he hasn't actually conquered it all yet

Regent of the Seven Skies - now this is interesting. The Seven Skies might be the cosmic version of the Seven Seas, aka seven main parts/routes of the Known Universe. OR, if we bring up mythology and religion the Seven Skies might mean seven levels of heaven/gods' domains. Makes sense so far But why regent? "Prime is eternal" so why calling himself someone who only governs the Seven Skies for someone else? A temporary substitute for the real ruler? Now this might be the title given to Prime by someone else. Was he chosen a regent for the previous Prime or another ruler? Was he chosen to be someone overseeing the world/heavens before the real gods return? No matter what actually happened, in the end HP refused to give back his position of power. And thus he might've kept this title as this weird reminder of how it all started (wink-wink totally not smth i explore in my kur twins au wink-wink)

Thought in our case the word regent might have a different meaning. In very rear instances a "regent" can be called a person who conducts a church choir... And now it all falls back into place

He Who brings the Day and the Night - yeah a doubt Prime has the ability to control the luminaries so lets focus on a more metaphorical meaning. Day and Night - Peace and War - Life and Death - Rebirth and Destruction - you get it. But day and night may also mean Light and Darkness, which kinda implies that Prime is the source of everything the Horde is supposedly fighting against. It is Prime who brings the shadows and darkness to the world, something he himself deems sinful, horrible, unforgivable and undeserving of existence. And he doesnt even hide it! The truth was right before his brothers eyes, and they never realized...

But it's also interesting to speculate if once upon a time the darkness and the shadows weren't actually something inherently bad in the eyes of the Horde. What if the dark was once celebrated along with the light? What if the members of the Galactic Horde were once allowed to love the dark? Allowed to love the night?

Revered One of the Shinging Galaxies - now this one implies that he is (or rather was) someone highly respected among many galaxies (cant tell how big the numbers are), might as well be idolized and worshipped. I mean duh, he'd supposed to be a cult leader, they are meant to be adored by their followers. But this might actually be the only evidence of Prime not only being feared and hated, but also loved by the world. This might proof that his clones werent his only real followers. Again, if this is a legit title Prime didn't pull out of his ass

Promised One of a Thousands Suns - I can't tell what are the Thousands Suns exactly - kingdoms/empires/councils/rulers? Are the Suns if what the Know Universe calls their gods? Can Prime be also called a Sun then? Is he a chosen one, something close to what She-Ra was to the First Ones? Was there some type of prophecy predicting Horde Prime's rise to power? Was he promised as a bad omen, as a future plague to the universe? Or was he awaited, wanted, beloved, treated like the world's savior even before he even existed?.. (wink-wink)

Another interesting thing - the words Sun and Son sound almost the same. Which unintenionally adds another hidden layer to this title's meaning. Promised One of a Thousands Sons. Thousands sons - thousands brothers... It almost feels like a sound illusion, a trick to make the clones feel closer to Prime, feel like he belongs with them and they belong with him for they're the same, to make them believe that they're almost equals. They are all brothers, they are all important and special and they all play a role in the higher plan. But Horde Prime is a little bit more important, a little bit more special, and there's no other brother like him

So yeah, that was my free and totally biased interpetation, i'd love to know what your thoughts are cause I do not remember anyone else discuss Horde Prime's full title before. They may be meaningless afterall, but not to me, never to me u-u

[alexanderlightweight]

I know I sent another ask in earlier but if you would like to write more I would love some soft Malec. Just something where they’re in love and soft to each other (from their perspective at least lol) nsfw/sfw either works! Whatever strikes your fancy! ❤️

here is something with them very soft teasing and falling in love and realizing that the weight of the world is easier to bear around each other even just in small ways

i hope you enjoy

<3 lumine

the precipice of duty

Alec stretches and feels not the weight of exhaustion but the weight of another body. Of Magnus, stretched out and solid and warm and Alec burrows closer. Lets sleep cling to him rather than shaking it off to go and train and work, instead letting himself relax and enjoy.

If Magnus isn't awake yet, then there's still time and so Alec luxuriates in an embrace he never thought he’d be allowed. By the will of others or the fact that he didn’t feel safe being this selfish. 

Because laying here in Magnus' arms rather than dealing with the Institute is the most selfish thing Alec’s done.

It also feels like the best thing he’s ever done.

For once, Alec’s made a choice that isn’t tearing him up from the inside out and he settles closer and breathes Magnus in.

Time drifts and Alec dreams — not of anything special beyond more moments just like this one — and slowly he falls back asleep.

—-

Magnus wakes with drool on his neck and legs tangled so closely with his own that trying to stretch drags Alexander closer against him. It’s a beautiful way to wake up after the constant rejections Magnus was getting.

Though considering how strongly his boy is clinging to him, Magnus doubts they’ll have too many repeats of Alexander canceling on him. Not with how content he’s been since they portalled away from his Institute.

Alexander grumbles against his skin and when Magnus starts to move — because his closet is calling him — bites him.  It’s not hard, but it is clearly a punishment for trying to leave.

“Really sweetheart, you couldn’t just use your words?” 

Magnus is teasing and it’s clear that Alexander knows it — from the way he’s sleepily glaring at Magnus. 

And then he bites again.

Harder, nearly enough to leave a mark and Magnus wishes he’d be a bit more daring.

Alas, Alexander’s teeth leave his skin and his boy looks so pleased that Magnus doesn’t have the heart to tell him ‘try harder’ just yet.

Next time he’ll ensure Alexander bites hard enough to leave a mark, but for now he has a sleep-dazed shadowhunter in his bed.

Which would normally be temptation incarnate but Magnus has a limited amount of time before Alexander will need to head back, ward around the Institute or not.

“I’m going to give you two potions to take and two choices for a destination, how does that sound?”

Alexander looks anything but pleased, but it’s not the potions that bother him as he’s already sitting up and reaching out for the vials Magnus has summoned.

“Tell me the destinations and if it doesn’t make a difference to me, then you’re picking.”

That’s more than reasonable and Magnus summons a mug of coffee that he offers after Alexander has downed both a nutrient and an energy potion. 

“Get the taste out of your mouth with that and tell me if you want something busy or something quiet.”

The look that earns him is accompanied by a snort that makes it clear Alexander isn’t going to deign giving Magnus an answer. 

Which means a wicked thought teases Magnus' brain and he smirks at Alexander before letting his voice go earnest and delighted, “something busy and crowded and incredibly popular it is.”

“Magnus—” Alexander is looking at him with betrayal, eyes wide and reproachful over his coffee, “somewhere quiet instead, please.”

“Forgive me, Alexander. You’re too delightful when you sulk.” 

The distrusting look his comment earns only makes him laugh harder, because even as he pouts, Alexander is leaning his weight onto Magnus and standing closer and closer. 

As if personal space no longer exists between them but is shared.

[callsign-rogueone]

Heyyy idk if you will do it or not because it might be a little weird request but I hope you do it!

Soo I would love to see how they would be like if their girl was being a little insecure cause she’s a little chubby(chubby girl requesting this))and like how would they comfort etc.I hope you really do it and I hope you don’t find it very weird😅

it's not weird! fellow chubby girl here to declare to you that none of our boys would mind if their girl is a little extra soft. some of them might even prefer it... I'm getting ahead of myself.

if you have doubts, my points are three;

they are all beautiful human beings inside and out, and see you for who you are (and also do not give a fuck what society thinks)

they are all gigantic and therefore all of them could still feel like the strong manly protector even if their partner isn’t Violet-sized

when I started this reply I had a third thing in mind. that was an hour ago, and it’s gone now. I’ll replace it with “and because I said so.”

now, moving on. the kind of scenario that I had in mind is that they hear you say something negative about yourself. and today’s categories are:

1) it would be upsetting how logical they’re being about this if they weren’t so cute while doing it:

I have a whole scene written for Dain and love of him being so sweet to her when she’s upset that her pre-Basgiath clothes don’t fit anymore. the TLDR of that is that she’s still the girl he fell in love with years ago, regardless of her looking different now. he reminds her of that, and that it’s for a good reason, that it means she’s healthy, and that it's part of a natural process. so while that isn't exactly the same scenario, I imagine him still being his logical self.

I know I lump Dain and Brennan together all the time, but he is also going in the logical category because he is also a nerd (affectionate), and the thought of you ever being insecure about anything just never crossed his mind. he does have some experience in the reassurance category via Violet, who is on the other end of the spectrum, but it works the same way. he has the whole "you are more than your physical presence and also there is nothing wrong with looking the way you do" speech down pat.

2a) gives you a very sweet speech about how much they love you

Bodhi owns this category. he might actually cry if you say mean things about yourself, because it genuinely breaks his heart to hear that the person he loves most in the world doesn’t love themself. he’s so sweet and loving to you, but also manages to know precisely how you want to be comforted. for example, and maybe I'm just weird, but when I'm having a "bad body image day" I don't want to be touched. I won't elaborate because I don't want to be negative or triggering. but my point stands that Bo would know exactly what you want in that scenario, and does it automatically.

Sawyer is also in this category, though he'd be a little bit more awkward than Bodhi. him and insecurity are old friends, and while his are much different than yours, he knows how it feels to be embarrassed by just existing. he starts by saying what he wishes someone would have told him two years ago, but nobody was around to (wrong. Love was there for him. as much as she could be, anyway.) and when he gets past the general stuff (promising he loves you, etc etc) and into the specifics, he trips over his words a little, and is definitely blushing a little (a lot) but it's so cute and you can tell it's 100% genuine.

2b) listens quietly to everything you have to say, and THEN gives you the speech:

Cam is rather quiet and aloof, from what we've seen in the books. he's not very chatty, probably because he's trying not to give himself away, but also I think that's just in his nature from being the ignored last-priority son... ANYWAY. he sits there listening, and once you finally run out of steam and stop talking, and you see him there, not having said a word, your heart breaks a little, because does that mean he agrees with you? nope. he was just listening and waiting his turn to speak. he knows the pressure to keep up appearances from being part of the Royal Family, so while he doesn’t agree with the statements you’re making about yourself, or the idea that pretty = thin, he understands that there’s outward pressure to look a certain way, and also rants a teeny bit about how much that's bullshit. (as an aside, should I keep calling him Aaric in these posts? or make the switch to Cam? I like Cam better. idk.)

Liam is an observer through and through. he's also sitting there listening, though he's easier to read -- you can always tell his emotions from the way he looks at you. there's so much softness and genuine sadness in those lovely blue eyes, because like Bodhi, he's so saddened that his favorite person feels this way about themself. I also see him as more touchy than Cam, so maybe your eyes just catch his mid-rant, and you see how he's looking at you, and just break... and he's there to hold you and help you glue yourself back together, holding you if/when you cry, and speaking to you so gently...

3) is more playful about it

Garrick is immediately offended — excuse you, how dare you say those things about my beautiful girlfriend. gets handsy, presses kisses everywhere he can reach, and even proves to you that he can still throw you over his shoulder like a sack of flour. holds you like that, upside down with your legs hanging in the air, until you're dizzy and giggling, your mood thoroughly lightened. if you're up for it, he'll continue demonstrating the extent of his attraction to you long after he sets you back down.

Ridoc is also in this category, to nobody’s surprise. while he's not tossing you around, his approach is similar to Garrick's -- lightening the mood, providing a distraction, and proving to you that you're fucking sexy, and not despite of your appearance, but because of it. of course, both he and Garrick know when to fuck around and when to be serious, so if this was a genuine breakdown on your behalf, he's choosing the 2a or 2b approach instead. he's incredibly emotionally intelligent. and I think his constant joking is partially because he wants to provide others a distraction from all the shit going down at Basgiath.

bonus category: 4) immediately assumes that someone else put these ideas in your head. "who said that to you? I just want to talk to them." (no he doesn't)

Xaden is not tolerating any kind of slander about his partner. but when you tell him it wasn't anyone in particular, it was just your own head, he softens. his response is kinda a mixture of all of the above. we know that he's a speech-giver, but also very physically affectionate with his partner... so expect speech followed by the both of you clearing your calendars for the next hour so that he can kiss every inch of you.

[bonzos-number-1-fan]

TMAGP 39 Thoughts: Meat Dreams

It's a rare Alex and Jonny co-written episode this week. It's also a very short and sweet one, although I am told that's to buy time for some longer episodes that are upcoming. However, it'll also be a short and sweet post from me because the nature of this one does mean I've precious little to say. I thought the episode was pretty good over all. I'm not a huge fan of the statement here but I do think it was well-written and well acted, it just didn't do much for me. As always though, there are a few things to pick at for the show's wider mythos.

Spoilers for TMA , and TMAGP episode 39 below the cut.

This is probably the simplest episode of the show so far. While there are scenes they're all contiguous and, as such, does make this episode fell quite small. Which is good and bad. It gives the episode an air of intimacy — which is apt for the content — but it does also leave little unseen and unsaid which is bad for these things.

I don't have an awful lot to say about this one. I think the takeaways and themes here are either very explicit or will be up to personal interpretation. Meaning you either don't need me to explain, or I cannot explain, the various goings-on in this episode. Although of note the official affix to denote who is a TMA character is now PL [name]. So this was PL Alice, as opposed to regular Alice. PL meaning primeline, as in prime timeline. And talk of the timelines is interesting to me because a prime timeline is a different thing than a prime dimension. Lots of things can change dimension to dimension but a series of timelines suggests some sort of common starting point. Timelines are different because events are different rather than the fundamental nature of things. I don't necessarily think that's the case here given the scope of the changes in regards to things like the Fears but we know the underlying metaphysics are at least compatible. Which might suggest that the only reason things are different in TMAGP is because people did different things. The Fears are different, or non-existent, because they were never fed or never born rather than simply not being a factor of the world. It's hard to know how much any of that will matter but they're at least framing it in terms of choice and consequence rather than a different set of rules from the get go. Although as Sam's appendicitis shows it does appear as though these timelines are trying to converge on some sense of uniformity.

Post-statement Sam and Georgie make it halfway down the road before finally clocking the very statement-y nature of Alice's statement. Which I'm taking to mean that [Error]'s abilities do involve a level of passivity or obfuscation when they're pulling these statements out of people. At least when the tape recorders are the vector. If that isn't the case Georgie has gone from telling the Wardens to be very aware of people statementing to letting Alice monologue for 6 unbroken minutes. I'm curious to know if we'll be seeing more of this sort of thing, or if it's more of a one off. I do also think it's quite odd Sam didn't ask Alice some of the more pressing questions. Sam knows the Magnus Institute is a fairly large deal in both universes. He's got first hand experience with one of them and in the primeline he knows it was the centre of the Change and that the event that ended it is named after it. He knows it turned into a big tower, knows everyone could see the big tower, and knows they blew up the big tower. Given Sam and PL Sam both had appendicitis, and both got together with Alice, you'd think a "weird question: did your Sam ever go to the Magnus Institute and see a dude turn into a skellington?". It might not elucidate anything, what with them being in different places, but it does seem like the sorta thing you'd at least ask about given all that context. But it does seem like they'll be stuck together in the next PL ep, so maybe he'll ask then.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Incident/CAT#R#DPHW Master Sheet and Terminology Sheet

DPHW Theory: N/A

CAT# Theory: You know the drill. See episode 34's post for thoughts on this.

R# Theory: N/A

Header talk: See episode 34's post for thoughts on this.

[mbat]

thinking about the eredar and how they couldve so easily just been like 'fuck off' about them and let them be mindless soulless irredeemable monsters who have hurt and killed countless people across the galaxy for centuries

but they chose to redeem them. to make them work toward redemption, even if they never achieve it in the eyes of most... or anyone, even. to make them people just like the other characters, and rejoin their people that had to separate from them a long time ago.

and how you can play as one now, technically. you can gain customization options to become an eredar and play as one. and thats wild to me, but in a good way. its just neat

[haru-dipthong]

Did you know that the english word “star” and the japanese word 星（ほし）don’t actually mean the same thing?

Language does not simply name pre-existing categories; categories do not exist in 'the world'

— Daniel Chandler, Semiotics for Beginners

I read this quote a few years ago, but I don’t think I truly understood it until one day, when I was looking at the wikipedia article for “star” and I thought to check the Japanese article, see if I could get some Japanese reading practice in. I was surprised to find that the article was not titled 「星」, but 「恒星」, a word I’d never seen before. I’d always learnt that 星 was the direct translation for “star” (I knew the japanese also contained meanings the english didn’t, like “dot” or “bullseye”, but I thought these were just auxiliary definitions in addition to the direct translation of “star” as in "a celestial body made of hydrogen and helium plasma").

To try and clear things up for myself, I searched japanese wikipedia for 星. It was a disambiguation page, with the main links pointing to the articles for 天体 (astronomical object) and スター（記号）(star symbol). There was no article just called 「星」.

It’s an easy difference to miss, because in everyday conversation, 星 and star are equivalent. They both describe the shining lights in the night sky. They both describe this symbol: ★. They even both describe those enormous celestial objects made of plasma.

But they are different - different enough to not share a wikipedia article. 星 is used to describe any kind of celestial body, especially if it appears shiny and bright in the night sky. “Star” can be used this way too (like Venus being called the “morning star”), but it’s generally considered inaccurate to use the word like this, whereas there is no such inaccuracy with 星. You can say “oh that’s not actually a star, it’s a planet”, but you CAN’T say 「実はそれは星ではなく惑星だよ」 (TL: that’s not actually a hoshi, it’s a planet). A planet IS a 星.

星 is a very common word, essentially equivalent to “star”, but its meaning is closer to “celestial body”. I haven’t looked into the etymology/history but it’s almost like both english and japanese started out with a simple, common word for the lights in the sky - star/星 , but as we found out more about what these lights actually were, english doubled down on using the common word for the specific scientific concept, while japanese kept the common word generic and instead came up with a new word for the more specific concept. If this is actually what happened, I’d guess that kanji probably had something to do with it - 星 as a component kanji exists inside the word for planet, 惑星, and in the word for comet, 彗星, and in the scientific word for “star”, 恒星, so it makes sense that it would indicate a more general concept when used standalone.

This discovery helped me understand that quote - categories don’t exist in the world, we are the ones who create them. I thought that the concept of “star” was something that would be consistent across all languages, but it’s not, because the concept of “star” is not pre-existing. Each language had to decide how to name each of those similar star-like concepts (the ★ symbol, hot balls of gas, twinkling lights in the sky, planets, comets, etc), and obviously not every language is going to group those concepts under the same words with the same nuance.

Knowing this, one might be tempted to say that 恒星（こうせい） is the direct translation for “star”. But this isn’t true either. In most of the contexts that the word “star” is used in english, the equivalent japanese will be simply 星. Despite the meanings not lining up exactly, 星 will still be the best translation for “star” most of the time. This is the art of translation - knowing when the particulars are less important than the vibe or feel of a word. For any word, there will never be an exact perfect translation with all the same nuances and meanings. Translation is about finding the best solution to an unsolvable problem. That's why I love it.

[uravitypng]

𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐲

pairing: yandere satoru gojo x chubby reader

summary: at the beginning gojo made your life hell when he first sees you because you won't give him attention. then it all changes, he just hated seeing you cry and he'll use all his resources and power to love you and spoil you

word count: 14.7k words

a/n: okay okay! i'm back! with something incredibly longer compared to every other oneshot i've written. i started this before gojo's birthday but it just kept getting longer and longer, then came the holidays and then i got ill too but it's finally finished, yay! i hope you all enjoy this and of course like always make sure you read the warnings before reading x

content warnings: gojo is a yandere!! friends to lovers, hints of stalking, gojo manipulates everyone, mentions of breeding, fingering, rough unprotective sex, cumming inside, gojo calls her 'silly girl' in his head and thinks she thinks to much (kind of like 'you don't need to think or make decisions or earn money because i can do that for you'), dirty talk, dumbification, objectification(?), submissive reader, dominant gojo, petnames: princess, sweetheart, (good girl) (if i've missed anything please let me know because it's very possible with 14.7k words - mdni / 18+

everyone flocks to satoru gojo, girls and guys alike, they want his attention, if only for a second, and want to be noticed by him. he's the beating heart to every social situation, with an ability to draw every single eye in the room on him, feeding off the spotlight and admiration. whatever he wants he gets it, he has since he was a young child so why are you being so difficult?

there's not many who he considers his equal, if he had to pick out one it would be his best friend from childhood suguru geto, two families telling their children to talk to the other in hopes to form more connections. gojo remembers to this day being five years old dressed up in a suit that was too stuffy for any five year old to wear, taken to a party with his parents. everywhere he looked there were elites and politicians, anyone and everyone with power. he remembers the nudge his mother gave him towards suguru's direction, telling her son to make friends. others at the university are lesser than him, but they're entertaining for a short duration, before he gets bored of them and tosses them away for someone else, that is.

then there's the nobodies, the lowest of the low. uninteresting in every way possible with nothing to offer him, nothing to pique his interest and in terms of satoru gojo you're a typical nobody but even the nobodies look his way when they think people won't notice. even the really shy ones or the stubborn ones who always say how much they despise how everyone adores him will momentarily glimpse in his direction when they think no one's looking.

but you... you look right past him, and it pisses him off. do you think you're better than him? even people in long term relationships eyes drift to him, most would break up with their partner for just one night with him. this 'most' mainly means all, everyone wants a chance to be with the man whose sexual escapades are spoken about frequently in such a high regard.

it's not like you don't know about his existence, you do, but you want to keep yourself to yourself. even your closest friends talk about the famous satoru gojo but he gives you the shivers for some reason. you've never spoken to him and you don't intend to, even if it's everyone's dream, it's not yours, something's just not quite right about him. you live in completely different worlds, different universes, and you prefer to dream about things more realistic, maybe dragons and flying saucers on occasion but never satoru gojo. not only is associating with him unrealistic but just the thought of him makes you shudder. he's too cocky, too self-assured, too arrogant, too loud, too... attractive, it doesn't seem right that someone would look that good. it's like he's hypnotised everyone bar you.

first it's irritation when he notices your behaviour, it's clear when you're acting the complete opposite to everyone, then it's anger when he sees you pay attention to someone that isn't him. something must be wrong with you if you're laughing at a joke that he didn't make, a joke told by another nobody, not just a nobody but someone a year younger. his actions are fuelled by his anger and his annoyance towards you. he makes sure every friend and acquaintance you have stops talking to you, it's easy really. all those so called 'friends' leave you alone after 'overhearing' hushed voices talk about how gojo's more likely to talk to someone when they're not friends with someone who's like you. it was easy to orchestrate it, all he needed was two girls who constantly fawn over him, perfect for doing his bidding.

"gojo never talks to yumehara, even though she tries so hard."

"yeah, it's because she's friends with moriyama. associating with someone like her is a no-go."

"moriyama?"

"yeah, you know that girl in class a, the one who thinks she's better than everyone and doesn't care about gojo."

you now sit by yourself and walk the corridors alone- easy. if he was more sympathetic towards you he'd almost feel bad that all of your friends would stop talking to you so readily.

next was your grades. the gojo family funds the university meaning that he had much more power than the average person, even more than people who also come from wealthy families. professors know it's in their best interest not to get on the bad side of the heir of the gojo family, not just for the university's sake but for themselves as well. one wrong move and they'll be fired, blacklisted throughout town unable to get a job. one wrong move and the university could lose all their funding. he wields more power than the headmaster.

you already get average grades, typically b's and occasionally c's but if he plays his cards right he knows he can lower those c's another extra grade down to an f and he knows just who to start with. professor iura: a man in his mid-thirties who's respected by all and he knows you like him. he's been told you try extra hard in his class, taking double the amount of notes in his lectures than you ordinarily do. he knows getting an f in his class first would be more hurtful than over all the other classes.

"professor iura don't you think the girl who wrote the paper on-" he stops mid sentence, what did you write about again?- "something so boring it hasn't even sunk in. i remember everyone else's but not hers." he only remembers his own and there was never any reason to see what a nobody like you wrote about.

the professor's eyebrows furrow before quickly schooling his expression back to impassive. satoru has used his influence before but iura's never heard about him using it as payback for whichever poor soul's caught his ire. "who is it?" iura thought you deserved an a this time, it's disappointing that he'll have to give you an f.

all these things start stacking up and you feel like the universe is against you, you don't understand your sudden drop in grades or why your friends won't talk to you. you do your best to put on a brave face but you feel alone, you have no one to turn to, you don't understand why everyone gives you the cold shoulder and why they pretend you don't exist, your facial expression dropping when someone ignores you for the umpteenth time. you don't understand how your water always seems to spill in your bag all over your things even though you swear you've put on the lid securely, screwing the lid on the bottle so tightly your hands suffer the consequence, almost raw, from how tight you've tried to make it. you can't afford to buy another textbook and you don't have enough time to rewrite your essay.

you don't understand how things go missing every time you look away. you glance to the window when you see a falling leaf, burnt orange and crimson red litter the floor outside. autumn is so beautiful, a season of harvest and abundance but it's a reminder to you that nothing lasts forever, leaves fall and people leave. people talk about how autumn is maturing but omits the melancholy idea that it's just growing old, that burnt oranges and crimson reds are just rotting on the ground. your whole world is rotting with every second, the universe has it out for you and by the time you look back into the room your pen is missing.

gojo takes pleasure from seeing your face at these times, that puzzled look and biting your lip in frustration as you've lost another pen or that pout when your friend ignores you, he thinks it looks pretty on you. not that he'd ever admit that of course.

his pleasure twists though, into a new emotion- a darker emotion. you got another f and you look... sad... distraught. satoru enjoys seeing your pout when something goes wrong for you, he thinks it's pretty but he's watching you like a hawk right now, he can't take his eyes off you, he can tell you're trying desperately to hold it all together but you can't stop your eyes from welling up, it's impossible to stop your waterline brimming with tears, overflowing like a broken tap, hot tears running down your face, you attempt to quickly wipe your tears away with the back of your sleeve in hopes that nobody has seen but it's too late for that. he thought he would take pleasure in seeing you cry but instead it's pure rage. even though he's the one that's convinced all of your professors to give you f's, all he feels is fury for them making you cry. he doesn't want you to cry, he wants to keep you safe, wants to make you all his.

in the following weeks professors leave the university without announcing it to students. leaving studies and classes in a limbo for awhile. not just the professor who made you cry is gone but also iura and several others.

with that limbo period came more group projects to fill in the space of the lack of lectures. a 'little' push from satoru to higher ups and you were paired up together, leaving you no choice to spend time together and have your first conversation with each other. at this point he needed to be near you. you sit across from each other after class and you introduce yourself to each other, even though you both know who the other is, you didn't expect him to know you and he acts like he doesn't. "oh i know you, i really liked your last paper. you got an f, right? i can't believe that, it was the best one." after all your friends avoiding you and all those f's getting validation makes you shyly smile, your cheeks feel warm and you're starting to understand why people like him.

things start to change after that. your f's go back to normal and people are kinder, with everything going back to normal satoru makes sure you're still alone though, makes sure your friends continue not to talk to you. he's the only one that's allowed to do that. your friends still don't spend time with you, instead gojo does and honestly you don't mind that change, you appreciate that change, you don't know what happened with your friends but you like how gojo doesn't dismiss your emotions and opinions like they used to do.

you previously had that inkling that something was wrong with him but his easygoing smiles and playful words make you enjoy your time with him and his once overconfidence that you always used to observe which once bothered you now makes your heartbeat go crazy in your chest, like marching drums hammering away against your ribcage.

satoru notices this change in you and he takes advantage of it. this change doesn't make him lose interest in you, maybe if you were someone else it would but not with you, if anything it makes him more interested because he learns more and more without you, some with your consent and knowledge others without it. he thinks you look so cute when you smile and he loves hearing you laugh. he never really liked music but he's listened to all those music and songs you share to the world like the ones you love that you play in cars and talk to people about them, plus the more secret ones hidden in your likes and private playlists. he loves the things you do that you don't realise you're doing, the soft sighs you make when you put on a warm coat when it's cold or the hums when you drink a hot drink. how you bite your pen when you're deep in thought and linger by the door before leaving the house and locking up, mentally checking you have everything you need with you. the little moans you make when you eat something that you love, at those times satoru has to restrain himself from kissing you. he loves it all. he loves you.

you see each other whenever possible and if you can't you'll be texting, he'll send you emoji's at the end of messages that you don't understand the context to and will send you selfies and photos of cats he's seen while around town.

after the first few times at the library you tend to see each other at café because they're more relaxed and you can talk as loud as you want to. he starts paying for your lunch whenever you're together, you always used to insist to pay yourself but after the first few times you relented, he could buy you breakfast, lunch and dinner everyday for the rest of your life yet it still wouldn't make a dent in his wallet. not only does he buy you lunch now but it's much more extravagant then you could afford for yourself.

you're walking together past a store front window and gojo sees something that catches his eye, stopping where he is and pulling on your sleeve to stop you too. "look at this!"

your eyes scan the window not knowing what he's talking about, all of them are designer clothes but none of them are men's. "what are we looking at gojo?"

he grins and points to a blouse, "that would look so good on you, you'd look so cute!" 'doubtful' you think. you scoff, that is a cute blouse but no way. "hey, what was that for? it's true." he insists.

"i don't even need to go in there to see that it's way out of my price range, plus designer brands like that never have my size anyway."

"you didn't say you didn't like it."

"me liking or not liking it isn't the point."

you carry on the rest of your day like it didn't happen and you forget about the whole thing. gojo doesn't.

all of gojo's fans start to get jealous of you, it's been over three months, the limbo period is over and new people have been hired, group projects are finished but you still spend all your days together. his previous relationships have been no more than eye candy only lasting a couple weeks yet you don't even seem to be dating so why is he always smiling when you talk and is walking you everywhere. they can't comprehend it, you're a nobody.

satoru loses it one day. you've gone to hand in your library book, it's overdue and you had forgotten about it, you needed it for when you and gojo were working together but you forgot all about it. gojo's waiting outside for you, you know the librarian likes you more so you've told him it's better if you go on your own, he knows that isn't true but as long as the librarian is kind to you he won't intervene. 'if the librarian knows what's good for her she'll let it go and not upset you.'

someone gojo vaguely recognises as a cheerleader who suguru slept with a few times spots him and goes over to him, leaning against him and pushing her breasts up against him. it disgusts him. "what are you doing here gojo? don't tell me that friend of yours is making you wait for her." she says in a sickly sweet voice and his eye twitches. he doesn't reply, she should get the idea and leave. "if i were her i'd never do that. why don't you come hang out with me? me and my friends are having a party later we'd love it if you'd come. normally i wouldn't come up to you so boldly but i think i'd be able to show you a good time, not like that girl you're always spending time with, you're so out of her league." she runs her hand along his arm but he grabs it tightly making her wince.

"don't ever fucking talk about her again," gojo responds coldly. he squeezes tighter and she yelps. he lets go of arm and pushes her away, almost in revulsion that he touched her. she stumbles and leans against the wall, looking shocked. at that time you push open the door with a relieved look on your face. satoru ignores the girl, acting like she doesn't exist, he smiles brightly at you. "everything okay?"

"yeah, she was surprisingly very understanding," you return his smile and shut the door behind you. when you shut the door you see the girl leaning against the wall staring at gojo and you wonder why. you've seen lots of gojo's fans but none of them have looked at him like that. you turn your attention back to gojo, not really wanting to engage with the girl if you can help it, you've never seen her before but you can tell that she's someone who would make your life hell if you knew each other as teenagers. "is everything okay?" you ask him, vaguely gesturing to her.

he grins and strolls towards you lifting up his sunglasses and lifting up your chin to look at him, forcing you to make eye contact and in doing so you get flustered and frazzled. gojo would sometimes put his arm over your shoulder when your walking together or grab hold of you quickly from behind unexpectedly, making you jump but this is the first time it's ever been so intimate. it's also rare for you to see gojo without his sunglasses on. "everything's fine." he grins and pats your head jokingly making you glare and pout. he snickers as he sees your reaction and lets go of your chin, slinging his arm over your shoulder.

"alright, if you say so, but for lunch i'm getting extra for that, i'm not some pet." you grumble and walk off together. satoru's mind flashes with images with you on your knees, 'i think she'd make a good pet. maybe i should buy her a collar.' he snickers again and you look at him with a raised eyebrow, "what's so funny?"

"nothing," he smirks. as you walk away he turns back around to look at the girl still standing there paralysed and glares hard at the girl. normally people would be swooning when they see his bright blue eyes like the clearest spring days but not right now, they'd all be wrong, his eyes aren't clear like any warm day they're frozen over and icy, with flecks of white and all that girl feels is despair and dread. he looks at her so cruelly, it makes her unable to move- frozen in place.

you haven't seen gojo for the last few days, it's the longest you've gone without seeing him since you became friends. even if you've both been busy previously gojo makes sure to have seen you, even if it's only for a minute, but you've both been too busy. gojo has had basketball practise in the day and in the night his family demands his attendance whilst discussing family affairs and you on the other hand have been busy studying, wanting to make sure you don't get any f's again. you don't realise you won't though, everything could be incoherent with each other word being spelled terribly and you'd never get an f again, gojo's made sure of that. he won't let anyone make you cry again.

you rhythmically tap your fingers, fidgeting on the table where your laptop and textbooks are, 'i want to see him.' satoru's scored another goal, this time a three point line goal, normally he goes for slam dunks but as long as he's the one scoring it doesn't really bother him. he's got a big game coming up and you're going to be there, you're going for him, you've never been to any of the games before, not having any real interest in the sport but now your friend is the star player so you're not going to miss any games. he'll score every single point his team makes so your eyes have no option but to focus on him and after the match you'll compliment him. the coach asks him something but it's all white noise to him, 'i miss her.'

you get a text on the fourth day of not seeing him and when you read the message you smile so wide your face becomes sore. 'the last few days have been so long without you! i know we normally go out for lunch but do you want to go for dinner?'

you don't hesitate responding, 'i'd love too!'

'i'll pick you up an hour before our reservations, i've brought you something.'

'reservations? did you plan tonight? and what's this about buying me something? you already pay for my lunch.'

'i've pulled some strings xoxo see you tonight.' you scowl when you read that he's blatantly ignored your comment about buying you something and if he's went out his way to pull some strings for this meal it must be more than a fast food drive-thru or the equivalent. you didn't really expect him to take you somewhere where you can eat in your car or it's acceptable to wear a three day old top and a hoodie that is a little too small but for him to go to the effort of pulling strings this must be a sophisticated place.

half an hour later you hear your phone again, multiple messages being sent one after another, five buzzes. 'shit.' 'I FORGOT' 'i forgot to send a time!' 'i'll see you at 6.' 'pretend this never happened.' you cover your face with your phone and giggle.

by six you're ready, it's taken you longer to get ready then you'd like to admit but you wanted to look pretty, it would be embarrassing to underdress. compared to gojo anything you or any 'normal' person would wear looks cheap in comparison to all his designer clothes but you spent hours making sure it would be suitable.

it's ten past six when you hear a knock on the door. opening it you see gojo in all his glory, his attractiveness on full display and his wealthiness showing, wearing an all black giorgio armani suit with a white shirt underneath, his sunglasses look different than normal, fancier, you think you can make out a ray-ban logo. he's wearing a rolex watch which is more than double your monthly rent. his hair looks shorter than the last time you saw him, he must of had a haircut in the last few days. it's obvious the way your eyes linger on him, checking him out and gojo grins as you unknowingly fuel his pride and ego.

"awe, you look so cute princess," gojo says playfully, smirking. princess- the first time he had called you that you malfunctioned, your eyes had widened and you forgot to breath. no one else has ever called you a term of endearment before and you didn't expect your friend, satoru gojo, to be saying it. you didn't ask why he called you it, why would you? it made your fingertips tingle and the inside of your chest to warm up. "can i come in?" you nod your head and move to the side to give him enough room to come in and close the door after him. "you really do look beautiful," he says gently, you don't think you've ever heard him speak so tenderly before.

"you look good too gojo, you always do but- but tonight as well," you tell him, bashfully smiling. he grins and his eyes gleam with glee at the genuine compliment. he loves when you compliment him, it feels different than the vapid ones others offer him, even if you compliment him with only a few words it means a greater deal.

behind his back he's carrying a sleek black box with a scarlet red chiffon ribbon wrapped around it in a bow containing his gift to you, your eyes narrow when he hands it too you, although your voice is soft and quiet when you say, "it's not my birthday gojo, why are you buying me things? you don't have to do that," your voice gets quieter with each word spoken.

gojo takes your hand in his and places the box in your hand. "i can buy you things because i can. i have enough money and i want to spend it on you," he tells you firmly and your stomach flutters with butterflies but you don't know why, his hand is awfully soft maybe that's why your heart is racing or maybe it's because he spoke to you firmly like there's no room for arguments. gojo cups your cheek with his unoccupied hand and strokes it, your whole body melts at the action, "just open it 'kay?"

you nod your head and hum, relenting- just like you did when he began paying for your lunch. you delicately unwrap the bow, not wanting to ruin the box, and open it, you didn't know what to expect, you could of been given a hundred guesses and a hundred days to guess what he brought you and you still would have no clue. you pause as you open up the lid, your heart skips a beat and it's almost as if the air was stolen from your lungs like deflated balloons as you breathlessly say, "satoru! what's this?" inside the box is the blouse you were looking at all those weeks ago, the one you said was too expensive, the one you said would never fit.

'satoru' it's the first time you've ever called him by his given name and it sounds so angelic coming from your lips that he's forgotten to breathe, everything pausing and not moving. "do you like it?" he finally asks.

you nod your head in an almost daze, you're in awe that he'd really give you something so beautiful, that he would go out of his way to buy it. "i- i don't deserve this gojo."

he steps closer to you, "uh uh, what's with calling me gojo again?"

your eyes widen as you realise that only a second ago you called him by his given name, "oh! i'm so sorry! i was just in shock, i didn't mean to call you that gojo," you ramble.

he smoothed out the wrinkles of his forehead rubbing it with his fingers, which is currently caused because he finds your lack of awareness disconcerting. "that isn't what i meant princess, i want you to call me satoru. i want to give this to you."

"oh... okay," you're quiet and you've pressed your lips together to stop yourself from smiling. it won't be hard to start calling him satoru, you already call him satoru in your head. after a long pause of you trying to put your thoughts all together you start speaking again, "are you sure about this satoru? this is bound to be expensive, right? it's- it's ralph lauren isn't it? isn't this too expensive too be spending on me." gojo has to hide a smirk at that, 'has she forgotten how rich i am?' "and, and i don't want you to think that i want to spend time with you because you have money or anything!" 'ah she's adorable, i could just cancel our reservations and have her on her knees the whole night to say thank you for the blouse... i couldn't do that though, not right now... if i don't see her in that blouse in the next five minutes i'll go insane.'

"of course i'm sure about this princess, i know you'd never spend time with me for clothes from ralph lauren." he resists the urge to pull you in by your waist and kiss you, he doesn't want to overwhelm you, not at this moment.

you take the blouse out of the gift box and hold it out in front of you, there's a twinkle in your doe eyes as you look at it in wonder, knowing that this is yours, whispering, "pretty," it's barely audible. "wait, i didn't think this store went up to my size? did you go to a different store? and... how do you know my size." you ask him confused.

"i have my ways," he answers and winks at you, you scoff at the wink and narrow your eyes.

"seriously satoru," you press him. 'ah she could ask me anything and i'll tell her if she keeps calling me satoru.' "actually i know you know my size from when you've seen my coats and jumpers lying around but-" 'oh yeah... that's totally how i know...' "- how did you get it in my size?"

"annoyingly they don't actually make that particular blouse in your size... how ridiculous is that, sadly i don't have enough money and connections to make them ruined and bankrupt." he says nonchalantly, casually waving his arm around. you bark out a laugh thinking that he was joking. he wasn't. if even one article of clothing isn't made in your size it should only be fair for the brand to lose all their money and reputation, no matter what the brand is.

"hold up how do i have this if it doesn't come in my size?" you cock your head to the side quizzically and for the second time gojo thinks about buying you a collar, maybe with a matching lead...

he grins and flicks his eyes back and forth between your face and the blouse you're holding up. "obviously i got it custom made,"

"that's- that's obvious?!" you splutter and he laughs.

"obviously." he reiterates, enjoying your reaction- dumbstruck and lips parted in near disbelief.

"it'll take us thirty minutes to get to the restaurant princess and our reservations in about forty minutes." he lets you know and you snap out of your stupor.

"i'll just get my bag."

"hang on!" satoru rushes out before you can leave to get your bag. "you look beautiful right now princess but don't you want to see how that blouse looks on you?" you shift your weight from side to side, heat rising to your cheeks. 'do i really have time to get changed? i spent so long choosing this outfit too.' before you can say something gojo stops you, not wanting to give you an opportunity to say no or think to hard about it. he wants you to do it, you don't have to have an opinion on the matter, leave that him. sometimes you can't be trusted when it comes to these things. "come on princess, i'm the one who brought you it. just wear it, please. i want to make sure it fits properly."

you yield, "okay let me go get changed."

satoru smirks, 'good girl.'

as you come back out of the bedroom adrenaline bursts through his veins. you twirl around, pausing when you circle back round to gojo and picking up the hem of your skirt playfully with one hand and doing a half curtsy, it's such a happy coincidence that the blouse pairs so well with the skirt you're already wearing, "how do i look?" 'beautiful, stunning, breathtaking, ethereal.'

"perfect," he replies dreamily and you giggle, thinking he isn't being serious and is exaggerating.

"i'm serious satoru," you tell him, it was meant to sound firm and like you won't back down until you get an answer but it just turned out sounding a little whiny.

gojo smirks and leisurely saunters to you, stopping when coming up close in front of you, "you look truly beautiful sweetheart." 'sweetheart' he's never called you that before. you don't know if your heart can keep taking it all. satoru's your friend, your close friend, but at times like this it's hard to remember that.

you bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling- admittedly unsuccessfully. the corners of your mouth still quirk up and your round cheeks become more predominate. you fight the desire to cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, instead opting to twiddle your fingers. "sh-should we get going?"

satoru grins at you, "sure thing."

the whole drive you're both stealing looks at each other when you can get away with it while making small talk and satoru's not letting you know where you're going saying that it's a surprise. whenever there's a red light gojo takes his time to admire you and as you step outside into the night you're astonished at the restaurant in front of you. satoru's handing his car keys to a valet to park his car but you're distracted from that, finally knowing where you're eating tonight. you know this place, well you know of this place. never in a million years would you have thought you'd be dining here, it's so lavish that the cutlery is more expensive than buying a house that's already furnished. "are you okay princess?" you snap out of your daze and nod your head. "alright then, let's go inside."

you follow closely behind gojo, nervous as you enter, you don't think you've ever felt more out of place. satoru doesn't even give his name, the man at the desk recognises him straight away, "ah mr. gojo if you'd follow me." the man leads you upstairs and you hear him asking satoru questions but all that's going through your mind is 'please don't trip, please don't trip.' you're quite accident prone and falling down these stairs would be too much to handle. he takes you all the way to the fourth floor and near the window where you can see the city lights shining below. "here you are."

when the man leaves satoru pulls out a chair for you and you're startled by the gesture. you take your seat and he takes his. "you're more gentlemanly then i expected you to be satoru, pulling out my chair for me," you pause for a second mulling your thoughts over before adding, "or is that normal etiquette?"

"i'm very chivalrous, i'll have you know," he replies pouting and you raise an eyebrow at how fake his answer sounded. he throws his hands up with a smirk, "well, i'm not always chivalrous but if a pretty lady is in front of me than i can become very courteous." you chuckle, trying not to hone in the pretty part for your own sanity.

you glance at the table and worry because satoru might know proper etiquette but you don't. you know the general rules and ideas but why are there two knives and forks next to your plate and a spoon as well? why are there two glasses, a wine one and a normal one? why does the napkin look fancy? does that mean it's just for decoration, what if you need it? you're worried that you'll leave smudges in places where there shouldn't be and what if the table cloth rips? maybe this was a mistake...

"hey," satoru says softly catching your attention, when you look back up at him you see his smirk has turned into a frown and you don't think you've seen that expression on his face before, it doesn't fit right. he's taken off his sunglasses and placed them down, hanging them out of his suit pocket. his striking baby blue eyes glinting when the chandelier droplets move in the light. his snowy white hair looking soft and subdued under the glow of the light and the wavering flame of the candle. "sweetheart, whatever you're thinking right now isn't true."

"how did y-"

he cuts you off before you can finish asking. "because i know you and i know that look on your face, that overthinking look, i can see all those unnecessary cogs turning in your brain."

"i just..." you look away from him, not wanting to look into his eyes any longer knowing you'll crumble but gojo's not allowing that. with how long his arms are it's not difficult reaching over the table to you, placing his fingers below your chin and tilting your head around to look at him.

"just what? sweetheart." satoru presses you.

bunching up your skirt into tight fists you take a shaky breath and try again, "i'm worried i don't belong here. this is a really lovely place satoru and i just... what if i embarrass you? i'm not like you, i don't know when to do certain things or say specific things, i don't know why the table is placed like it is or any of it," after the words stop spewing out your mouth you take another breath, this time not shaky and deep. you look relieved to get it out.

'silly girl.' "do you really think i'd get embarrassed because of you sweetheart? nothing you could do would make me embarrassed. i'm lucky that you're with me right now. i don't care if you don't know all the rules and you shouldn't either, all that matters is that we're here together and we get to finally see each other after some hectic few days," gojo tells you earnestly, his body close to the edge of the table, leaning forward further near you, his voice low and intimate, like what he's saying is a complete secret for your ears only. the days were hectic and finally you're getting to see each other. those tedious meetings with his family and hours of basketball that seemed to stretch on and on but finally- you're together again.

your shoulders sag, you weren't even aware that your plush figure had tensed up in the first place. when satoru saw how you relaxed your posture he picks up one of the menus, "everything okay now?" he asks you, his eyes soft as they gaze at you.

"yeah, i think so." you lick your lips, wetting them after getting dry, the intense spike of emotions throwing your body threw a little bit of a loop, dry lips, moist eyes, with shaky fingers.

gojo grins and leans back on his chair, seeming more casual than a minute ago and hands you a menu. "what are you thinking about getting? i might go for the lobster."

you're browsing the menu but when you hear him you put it down momentarily to reply, "oh please, like you care about the lobster, you just want dessert," you say grinning wide.

gojo gasps and places his hands on his chest in mock offence. "dessert? i think you mean desserts." you laugh, eyes crinkling in amusement. "i want you to enjoy this meal just as much as i'm planning to, that's why i intend to get the lobster, i don't want you to feel like you have to rush while eating just because i want dessert and i don't want you to even think about a silly thing like money." 'so he's ordering one of the biggest and expensive dishes? ...that does sound like satoru actually.' although you would be none the wiser about the prices of these meals, it's one of those high-end restaurants that doesn't have the prices on the menu, satoru must have been here often enough to know how much the lobster costs compared to other dishes.

"i don't know what to do about drinks, i hear they've got a fine collection of wines, maybe we should order a couple bottles? do you like wine?" he already knows the answer to that but you don't know that. "they've also got a wide selection of spirits and non-alcoholic drinks too, i believe."

you both order what you want, making idle conversation while waiting.

by the time your food arrives satoru has tried to convince you that you should've ordered a bigger meal, you're content with your choice in the end though and it's not the most surprising that when your food does arrive there's also a side dish for you to which you didn't order.

"i didn't order this satoru," you raise an eyebrow.

gojo smirks, "i know you didn't, but i did. i didn't want you to be hungry and we haven't had lunch together in days have you been eating properly?"

"are you suggesting that because i'm eating food in my price bracket instead of yours that it's not good enough? the food you pay for is definitely better but poor people food taste good too."

he chuckles and smiles at you fondly before replying, "that's not what i'm saying and you know i'm not. I am however asking have you been eating three meals a day?" you wince. "i thought not."

"i've been busy with studies, i didn't have time to eat three meals a day every single day," you try to justify.

"that's exactly what i mean. i won't take any excuses though, you shouldn't have skipped any meals." satoru lightly scowls you but don't take it too seriously, you should have though. 'silly girl, she really can't look after herself properly. it's a good thing i'm here to keep an eye on her. she just can't be trusted on her own.'

you pout at his reasoning, it's not often that gojo reprimands you or anyone you've seen for that matter. knowing that you don't have a leg to stand on you keep quiet.

when you eat the first bite of your food you hum blissfully, so close to being a moan and it's music to satoru's ears, 'god she's adorable.' he doesn't even realise that he isn't eating until you noticed that he's unmoving. "satoru are you okay? you're not eating."

"i'm fine sweetheart just thinking about something," he responds with a smile.

"okay- if you're sure but make sure you eat soon or it'll get cold."

"yes ma'am," satoru gives you a cheeky smile and picks up his fork.

your face heats up in embarrassment and you lose any composure that you previously had. you avert you eyes and focus on the tablecloth, suddenly finding it very interesting, focusing on the material. you never knew being called something would make you feel so strange, it was the complete opposite to gojo calling you princess or sweetheart.

even though satoru picked up his fork and began eating he didn't take his eyes off you at the corner of his eye, he wanted to see your reaction to that name. he wanted to test how docile you are, his theory that you are submissive and it seems he was right, although even if he wasn't and his theory was proven wrong he'd just mold you into what he wants. 'of course she's so perfect that i don't need to change her, she's such a good girl.'

quickly ma'am leaves your head with the more delicious food you have but you can't help some negative thoughts enter your mind. everything starts to feel too good to be true, the twinkling lights and the flickering of the candle on the table, the scenery and the ambience, the delectable food and the amazing beverages, the dream company with someone who you care so very much about, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else and... it just all feels too good to be true.

'how many girls does gojo come here with? they knew who he was without giving his name. i know i'm not his girlfriend. it's not like i'm jealous it's just- i want this so bad to be special. am i one in a long line?' you have to ask, you have to know. if you're not special you need to know.

"satoru-" you start by getting his attention.

he looks up at you and sees the pensive look on your face, he puts his cutlery down and ceases eating, directing all his attention to you, "yes princess?"

"can i ask you something?" you ask, hesitant and more meekly now you have his attention.

"of course you can princess," he smiles and waits for you to ask whatever it is. he truly doesn't know what it could be right now.

"am i special? i mean- wait- not special. i mean do you take lots of girls here? they seemed to know your name already so do you? i know we're friends so it wouldn't be the same as you taking other girls here but do you take lots of girls here?"

he doesn't even try to stop the smirk that creeps onto his face, you're jealous and what's even better do you even know that you're jealous. satoru can barely contain his excitement.

not once have you brought up other girls, not once. you've never asked if it's true that he doesn't date anyone for longer than a month or that he's gone through half the school. you've never asked about the crude gossip about how big his dick is and how he's the best anyone has ever had even though he knows you've definitely heard those rumours. but right now? right now your words hint of jealously and insecurity.

satoru tells the truth as he replies simply "i haven't brought any girls here." gojo dangles the small piece of information in front of you, it isn't a question of if you'll take it and ask further questions he knows you will but he wants to hear you ask for more, it thrills him.

"you-you dont?" you ask for more explanation.

he grins, "nope," he pops the 'p'. "i go here with my family and on occasion suguru but only sometimes with suguru because it can be kind of intimate with two people," he explains and you giggle at the thought of the two of them sitting across from each other here. he carries on his explanation, "i would never go here with other girls, of course you're special," he tells you honestly and your lips part, hanging onto every word spoken.

'i'm special.' you press your lips together but the corners of your mouth still manage to lift up into a small smile. your brain then fully catches up with everything he said and your heart beats erratically, just now satoru said a dinner here between two people is intimate, he didn't word it in that exact way but if a dinner for two with suguru is intimate, a dinner for two with you might be considered intimate too. overall you're pleased with the answer you were given, gojo thinks your special and he doesn't take other girls here.

you eat the rest of your dinner without incident, enjoying every single mouthful and letting gojo know that it's tasty, thanking him. when you order dessert it's no surprise that satoru goes a bit overboard nearly buying the whole dessert menu, not that you would ever complain about a thing like that, the more time you've spent with gojo the more of a sweet tooth you've become yourself.

satoru doesn't attempt to hide the bill, he enjoys the look on your face when you see the amount in the corner of your eye. for him the money is trivial sum but to you it's shockingly high. he gets a power trip when he sees your eyes widen at the money.

"do you want to come back to mine?" satoru asks you while you leave the restaurant and you agree not thinking anything of it. he's been to yours before but you've never been to his. you don't think there's anything behind his question, you don't even consider he's suggesting something and gojo's well aware that you don't realise.

you don't speak much on your way back, you're leaning against the window and watching the city lights, it's starting to drizzle and you feel at ease in your current company, your eyes fluttering, slightly drowsily, as you hear the rain. gojo taps his fingers on the steering wheel and smiles thinking about how adorable you look right now.

the journey back to satoru's could've taken ten minutes to an hour for all you know as your mind wanders and your eyelids get heavy. when you arrive and he parks up and you get out of the car, you shiver a bit as the cold air hits you, giving you a shock and getting rid of any lingering tiredness and satoru walks around the car to be next to you. he pouts as he bends down to look at you, his sunglasses still in his jacket pocket, "pretty ladies aren't just supposed to have their chair pulled out for them, they're meant to have doors open for them too."

you giggle and bump against him, "flattery will get you nowhere mister." it does. luckily you'll be able to blame your flushed face due to the bitterly cold if gojo questions you on it.

"let's get inside sweetheart, it's cold." 'sweetheart' something else you can luckily blame on the weather. you're not expecting satoru to randomly touch your face though so you think you're going to be okay.

you follow him inside and the size of his place is a large as you thought it would be, you're learning to expect everything he owns is extravagant. the interior however is something you take note of, you've only entered one room but it seems barren. the walls are drab, painted slate grey and off white with only the bare necessaries of furniture and nothing more. devoid of any human presence. you're not even sure if he's lived here long and when he looks at you he can see those unnecessary cogs turning in your head again. "is something on your mind princess?"

"um-" you don't really know if you should bring it up but your curiosity gets the better of you. "have you lived here long?"

"a couple of years," satoru leans against the wall and smirks.

"i just- there's not a lot of stuff in here, it looks like you still have unpacking to do."

he pushes himself off the wall and goes over to you, "do you think i should get more stuff? like cushions for the the sofa and posters on the wall?" you feel gojo's breath against your skin as he leans down to talk in your ear quietly, it's so intimate, your mind draws a blank finding it hard to think with him so close to you. satoru is playful and he's teasing and you've heard rumours that he's a flirt but he's never been this close to you before, you've never been able to smell his cologne and been this close to feel his warm breath against your neck. "maybe we should go shopping together and you could help me pick out some stuff?" you're holding your breath, not being able to breathe anymore. "or maybe it would be better if you just stayed here and brought your stuff along? you do always complain about your rent being high."

you take a sharp intake of air and move a step away from him so you can look back at him in the eye. mentally shaking your head to forgot about his remark. 'did gojo just say about me being his roommate? i'd get to see him everyday... wait... i'd have to hear him all the time when he brings home girls and does he even clean after himself properly?'

"did you have too much to drink tonight satoru? you know you shouldn't drink and drive," you reply with light tone, reminding yourself not to think too hard about the situation, almost being successful in your mission.

satoru just watches you and smirks as he sees you try to ignore his comment. "anyway i don't think you need a roommate." 'roommate? yeah i don't need one of those...'

"and for all i know you might steal my food from the fridge and not wash up the dishes. plus i always forget my towel when i shower." you say the last sentence flippantly, but satoru's mind fills with thoughts of you... 'walking out of the shower into the living room with a small towel on, barely covering your body, body damp with water dripping down your neck, onto your shoulders down to the valley of your breasts...' he's getting hard just imagining it.

"are you okay satoru? you're a bit red." you question and the topic of conversation changes.

satoru moves back away from you, "i'm okay princess, probably thirsty. do you want a drink?" he's glad of this change, he'd like to tease you more but there'd be a real chance you'd see his erection, he could probably tease you about it if you'd notice it but he doesn't think you're ready yet. he wants to make sure you're relaxed and comfortable. you've got a long night ahead of you.

"sure."

following him into the kitchen you take a seat on one of the kitchen counter stools. "what would you like to drink?"

not wanting to ask for something he might not have or cause a fuss you respond with, "whatever you're having is good with me."

'she's so predictable.' he pours both of you your favourite drink, he knows all your preferences, of course he's stocked up on everything you like. he hands it to you and you smile wide, "this is like my all time favourite drink, i didn't know you liked it too."

in situations like this he switches his answers up from time to time not wanting you to get suspicious. "do you like these too? the amount i get through weekly is crazy." he makes sure to separate things into two categories, things you've told him and things you haven't but he knows anyway. he wouldn't want to mention in conversation about how he remembers that you like these drinks when you've never told so.

satoru likes when he tells you things that subtly suggest, 'look how much we have in common. we like all the same music and drinks!'

he prefers when he tells you he remembers something you told him, you quietly replying to him once about how much it means to you because "no one has ever cared about me to remember something so mundane about me." he swears that he'll remember everything about you, he swore he'd never forget a single thing.

gojo takes his place next to you, sitting on the stool and purposely brushing his hand against your rib, under your breast, and he gets pleasure from seeing you straighten up your back.

you both enjoy your drinks and kick your legs in the air. "i feel bad because you've been driving me around all night. when i go i'll get an uber or cab or something."

gojo frowns, "are you going now?"

"n-no! unless you want me to?" you don't want to overstay your welcome and you have a feeling that if gojo wanted you to go he'd let you know and you want to look around the other rooms if you have a chance, perhaps not his bedroom for privacy reasons but you want to see if his other rooms have plain decoration and if the bathroom has any noteworthy products in, you have always wanted to know how his skin looks so good all the time.

"i'm definitely not telling you to leave princess... in fact why don't you stay the night? you can stay in the spare room. no pressure though. you don't have to but there might not be anywhere you can get a lift because of how late it is and how it's the other side of town adding that all onto it's now pouring down. i'd offer to take you back myself but i'm not a huge fan of driving in the dark, especially if the roads are slippy 'cause to the rain. it's your choice. i'm sure you'll get someone to take you eventually but it might be less effort to stay here and leave tomorrow?"

he knows you don't want to wait forever getting home, he knows you want to take him up on his offer but something is stopping you, he doesn't know what is it for a moment until he figures it. "it's absolutely no bother, i don't mind and i've got clothes that you can wear, i think i wore them to lounge about in on tuesday so i haven't had time to wash them yet but i don't think that's a huge problem. i wear them a lot but they're too big on me, you should fit in them."

that small comment might have upset you more if it came from someone else but you don't think gojo meant it maliciously, you think it came from a good place, however you couldn't help thinking about it, the words 'they're too big on me, you should fit in them' ring around your head, about how you should fit in them. you know that satoru didn't mean anything by that but you've never worn someone else's clothes before so it gives you a bit of anxiety and satoru can see that.

gojo speaks again in an attempt to stop you from other thinking. "if you did want to go i'll give you the money to get a cab but if not you can stay, it's no problem, in fact i would enjoy it." your eyes snap up to look at him and you see a soft smile adorning his face. "we could watch that new film you were telling me about and i don't mean to brag but my shower is amazing, nothing compares, even five star hotels." you crack a smile but your mind still lingers on the clothes. satru can see that still not fully convinced and there's something stopping you, "is this about the clothes?" you shift your eyes away nervously not wanting to admit how you clung to a few words. gojo stops himself from sighing in exasperation. "if you'd feel more comfortable keeping the blouse and skirt on you can, you do look good in them but you shouldn't overthink about wearing my clothes. i know i said they're not clean but i've only worn them once since they've been washed it's not like they're diseased." you giggle and satoru gets less exasperated after hearing you laugh.

"they'll fit you if that's what you're worried about and honestly even if they are a little tight you'd still look good in my shirt, it would just hang onto your hips a bit." your mouth parts, the previous throwaway remark being swiped away like smoke by his hand, instead being replaced by insurance that it will fit and if by the off chance it doesn't then it's not the end of the world. he hopes it doesn't fit.

it quells your mind and you agree to stay. "thank you satoru, i'd appreciate staying, over the hassle of getting home."

he grins at your answer, hands itching to take off your blouse. "do you want a shower now so we can watch that film?"

"sounds good." you follow him into the bathroom and it looks like the living room, crystal clean, newly moved into, the only difference is his electric toothbrush on the side and moisturiser. gojo doesn't leave when he shows you into the room, he doesn't leave when he makes a quick explanation about how the shower works, in fact he didn't tell you at all. instead of telling you he turns the shower on, adjusting the handle to change the temperature to the one you prefer and pressing a button next to the handle, keeping his finger on it for a few seconds before removing it, changing the water pressure. "here you go princess," he grins and turns back to you. you think to yourself about how you could of figured out how to work the shower but you don't vocalise it, you've been in enough showers to know how they work but satoru's one is probably different if he did it himself.

"oh, the shower wash and shampoo is there, i don't know if you want to wash your hair but it's there if you need it. you'll have to use my one." he then leaves, before placing a towel on the sink for you to grab when you get out. he owns all the soaps and scents you use but you can't use them, he doesn't want to share. if he gave you them you'd be suspicious and there would be less for him to use when he misses your smell, groaning in the shower after he gets home from basketball his hands massaging your shampoo into his scalp, one hand in his hair the other fisting his cock. he'll buy you new perfumes and soaps for the holidays, he would never change any of your signature scents but you deserve more expensive products in his eyes.

a part of you still can't help but think about the clothes but when you step into the shower your eyes close and body relaxes, somehow it's the perfect way you like your showers. all of it melts away and as you pick up gojo's shower wash your body heats up inside. you're going to use the same soap as gojo uses and once you recognise how you reacted you shake your head to get away from all those thoughts. everybody at your university would likely have the same reaction as you but you're not just anyone, satoru is your dear friend and he deserves more respect than you just gave him. you don't spend long showering, wanting to not use his soap for a long period and you end up not washing your hair.

you dry yourself but panic as you can't find clothes anywhere, did satoru forget? maybe the plan was for you to put your clothes back on until he's gave you them. opening the door ajar you peek outside, you're planning on seeing if you can hear satoru, asking him about the clothes but before you can you see a shirt on the floor next to the door. picking it up, you close the door quickly and breathe deeply, glad that you noticed the shirt before calling out to gojo.

when you start to slip into the shirt you feel a repeat of the shower, it smells so much like him. you didn't realise when you agreed to this you'd have to be concerned about this but you are and it's making you feel guilty. like you're no better than those girls who throw themselves at him, only based on appearances alone. you put it on as quickly as you can and try to ignore the smell but the entire room is filled with it. it smells different to the soap, it smells more like him, 'his natural scent?' you ponder. it effects you differently than it would his fans though, they'd be filled with thoughts that are less than appropriate, like being pushed into his pillow while he's taking them from behind or not wasting time with getting completely nude but to you they're innocent, the smell is comforting like when he surprises you by suddenly grabbing you from behind or crowding your space as you worked on projects together. it's not the smell of satoru gojo, famous 'womaniser', 'manwhore', 'heartbreaker', with a reputation that would make a nymphomaniac blush, it's the smell of satoru gojo- your gojo. and annoyingly your gojo, your friend, smells really good.

satoru was right about the shirt. because of how tall he is it reached down to your thigh, you were slightly worried about accidentally flashing him but it was long enough not to worry too much about it. he was also right about how it clung to you. even though it clung to you it didn't make you feel uncomfortable, the fabric stretched a tad around your hips and chest but it didn't make you feel uneasy, you doubt satoru would even notice. he, of course, does. and takes great pleasure in it.

you fold up the towel and leave it in the laundry basket. exiting the room you hear satoru and go to him. he hears you near him entering the room and looks up from the sofa, "you okay?"

you smile sweetly and nod your head, "i'm okay, it was a good shower."

he returns your smile, "i'm glad."

satoru doesn't hide his staring as you move to the sofa to sit down next to him. you're so cute and you're so hot all he can do is stare and he's so thankful that you agreed to come to his and stay. he's never let anyone wear his clothes before, it's a boundary that he doesn't cross. his previous relationships weren't allowed to wear his clothes, if it was cold outside and someone didn't bring a coat he wouldn't give them his, he never cared about them that much to do things like that but when you walk in wearing his clothes his heart jumps with joy. he never thought about how much he'd love seeing you wear his shirt, it's not just a shirt it's a statement, you're his, he owns you. it barely covers your thighs and he knows if he gets you to move and bend down, even if only slightly, everything will be on display. his shirt is clinging to your curves and he's practically salivating as your hips look so grabbable.

you're none the wiser of this and when he turns on the film you previously spoken about he was paying more attention to you than the television, every so often shuffling a little bit closer to you. he doesn't wait long, it's been about twenty minutes through the film before he puts his arm around you, he slings his arm around your shoulder when you walk together sometimes so it's not the first time this has happened. this is regular behaviour in your eyes.

forgetting his arm is even around you you become invested in what you're watching, you were right to mention it to gojo, it's exceeded your expectations. you have no reaction to satoru taking his arm off your shoulder and instead placing it on your plush thigh. he has more of a reaction that you do, biting his lip to stop any noises that could come out because you would likely notice if he groaned. after a couple of minutes of his hands being still he starts moving, making small patterns on your skin and stroking you. his hand gets higher, reaching the hem of his shirt before stopping and leaving his hand there.

as the film ends you become more aware of where gojo's hand is resting but you choose not to say anything. you're flustered but you think he's put his hand there absentmindedly while watching the film so you keep quiet.

"did you enjoy the film princess?"

you smile brightly at him and respond, "i did! did you?"

satoru starts making patterns on your skin lightly again. tapping his finger on his chin with his other hand like he's thinking and making a noise, "hmmm i did enjoy it although i was distracted through most of it."

that catches your attention wondering what it was that he was focused on instead. "oh, what was it?"

he smirks, "it's hard to pay attention to anything other than how pretty you look right now."

satoru had called you a pretty lady earlier tonight but this feels more personal, your brain refusing to work and it's exhilarating for him to see it happen.

he cups your cheek in his hand so you're making direct eye contact with each other, he doesn't want to look away from him. "do you want this sweetheart?"

your heart is pounding in your chest like a hummingbirds wings and you worry that satoru can hear it, swallowing before replying, "w-what do you mean?"

he leans closer to you and feel like your body is buzzing, tiny zaps of electricity shooting through your veins at his proximity to you, "do you want me?"

"i-i," you're stuttering over your words and nothing makes sense. do you want him? want him to do what?

"sweetheart do you want me?" he reiterates putting more emphasis on the 'want' and slivering his hand up further along your thigh, inching under your, his, shirt. you wait with bated breath, wondering if he'll go further, wondering if he'll say more.

"satoru are you... are you coming onto me?" you're quiet when you ask, you're unsure, you worry that you're wrong and gojo can't help but laugh.

"obviously i'm coming onto you. i thought that was pretty clear."

"you are?" you're still quiet.

"yeah," he smirks at you however your eyes drift away from him feeling shy but gojo's not having that, he pats your cheek before saying, "look at me princess." you do what he says and make eye contact with him again, "there she is, "he smiles at you and kisses your nose making your whole body heat up, your lips part open in shock and he smirks.

"i'm going to ask again, do you want this?" lowering his voice he continues speaking, "because i want this."

'he wants this. he wants me... but do i want him? everyone wants him. do i want him? if we do this it might never be the same again, we might stop being friends... satoru is really attractive, he's hot, he can get anyone he wants but will this mess everything up... i don't know.'

he can see those unnecessary cogs again, how silly, how useless.

he doesn't wait for you to answer, he's given you time and instead of answering you're thinking, overthinking, not being a good girl at all. instead of waiting any longer he closes the space between you two and slots his mouth against yours, licking your lips in a silent request to open your mouth, you oblige his request without any more thought and just simply do what feels right, do what feels good, and kissing satoru feelings good.

his lips are soft, probably softer than yours but you can't tell with them against each other. imaging the kiss you'd think gojo would kiss someone slowly, languidly. you imagine he wouldn't put a lot of effort or passion in the kiss but it would still be the best kiss anyone has ever had. you never thought he'd be a passionate kisser. you know from rumours that his relationships don't last long, it seems to you that he's never been invested in any of them so what's the point in kissing someone like you can't get enough of them when he's going to move on to the next person in a week, so what's the point of kissing passionately but right now that theory is blown out the window. his movement is rushed, it's hungry, it's unexpected. you didn't think he'd be so greedy. his skilled tongue is against yours and he's completely dominating the kiss. satoru's not even stopping for air and he's not letting you either, he's been waiting for this for so long now and a stupid reason like needing to breathe isn't going to stop him.

satoru's leaving wet kisses down your jaw and pulse point anywhere that's visible he's kissing. leaving little nips in his wake and trying to find a good space for him to start leaving marks and hickeys so everyone will know you're his.

the hand that was holding onto your thigh squeezes gently and a shiver runs down his spine because you feel so soft. he pushes you down on the sofa and he's above you looking down, knocking your thighs open and kneeling between them. he's swears he's never seen a more beautiful sight. you get nervous when you look at him, the way he looks at you tenderly with those vibrant blue eyes, that unbeknownst to you hold so much love for you.

you're gasping at every new sensation gojo's giving you, never having felt like this before as his continues his path up your thigh moving the shirt up along with it and now he's finally touching your plush body he thinks he may be in heaven with a gorgeous goddess with him and the more he moves the shirt up the more he thinks so. both of his hands moving to your hips and pressing his fingers into your skin watching them spill over and it's making him dizzy. never has he felt anyone with your body before and it's driving him crazy. he wants more, he needs more.

satoru brushes his knuckles over your underwear making you whine and he smirks, "feel good princess?"

"uh huh," you reply nodding your head up and down rapidly, head fuzzy and wanting more, wanting him.

"yeah?" he asks smugly. " ' course you do." he taps your hips just above the line of your underwear, "lift up for me sweetheart." you move up so he can pull down your underwear and he pockets them in his jeans saving them for later. he doesn't waste anytime as he unzips his jeans and takes them off, pulling his shirt off after, the only reason of the shirt being off is that he wants you to see how hot he looks and to check him out, he knows he looks good and he wants you to know it too.

he presses two fingers into you and you moan. "i'm going to prepare you sweetheart." it wasn't a question but you nod your head anyway. his slender fingers are longer than yours, reaching placing you can't, he's leisurely taking his time, watching as you squirm, eyes starting to glaze over.

only after four minutes and he's had enough of this leisurely pace fingering though, he just has to have his dick inside you now. he would promise to go slow but he knows he can't promise that. you don't see his dick before he goes into you, if you did you'd say something but instead you feel it. more girth than most and nine inches long thus as he starts to thrust into you you let out a moan that soon fades into a silent scream.

with each inch you feel that it must be it but then there's more, he knows he should've spent more time getting you ready for him but the idea of waiting even a minute longer was torture.

at the same time of being fully inside you, you wince, and satoru places a chaste kiss on your lips. there's a fleeting thought as you wince about how you think his cock has broken you, so far he's in your guts. he keeps his hold on you as he thrusts shallowly a few times testing the waters and playfully pinching your nipple to see your reaction.

you try to speak but the words get caught in your throat and it doesn't take long for gojo to speed up, not even a minute and he's already thrusting hard and fast into you, a creamy white ring already forming at the base of his cock. his pace doesn't falter, in fact it gets more rough as satoru sees your face. it's hard for you to even think, you've never been this full before, you're eyes are glazed over and you've got your mouth open drooling a bit, he thinks you look so adorably dumb. "look at you princess you look so dumb right now, so stupid. you don't even have one thought in your head do you? it's so fucking hot. not thinking or worrying, all that matters is this, you don't need to think i'll do it for you."

satoru lifts up one of your thighs and puts it on his shoulder, at the new position it feels like he's reaching even deeper. you whine so loud that people walking outside would hear. "my cock's making you lose braincells huh?" he grins, tapping your cheek gently to get your attention. you look up at him in a daze and he sniggers. "not a thought behind those eyes."

at the new angle you try to grab hold of his arm but struggle to focus losing grip straight away, squealing, "ah it feels s' good 'toru!"

satoru is pleased that you've spoken something, that you've been able to form an legible sentence, he's even more pleased at how good you sound squealing, knowing that he's the one who's made you sound like that. however more than all of that he's overjoyed that you called him 'toru' it sounds so perfect from your mouth.

"i know, i know, you're so good for me princess, such a good girl." he keeps slamming into you at a brutal pace and he wants you to come undone around him soon before he cums. "hear that princess, your pussy is so wet and sticky for me. she knows what she wants huh," he grins and starts pinching your nipples, watching as your eyes roll back.

he's fucking you so rough that your body is moving up and down on the sofa, jiggling with each thrusts, and as he watches your body bounce he gets closer and closer. he normally lasts so much longer but he can't help it with you, it's impossible for him to keep his regular time when your warm wet walls are wrapping around his cock, when he's inside you.

satoru can't wait any longer removing his hand from your nipple and bringing it to your clit, rubbing harshly as you shriek from the sudden extra stimulation, as you get tighter around him he sucks his teeth so close to cumming, "are you going to cum for me sweetheart?"

you don't say anything, you don't have time to answer him because instead the coil in the stomach that has been winding up for the last half an hour snaps, with the added help of gojo touching your clit, you arch your back, and your eyesight goes fuzzy seeing white dots. you've never had such an intense orgasm before, it drowned out noise and made everything hard to hear, you didn't even know cumming could do that. everyone was right about sex with satoru.

feeling you spasm around him was even for him to finish as well, a few more thrusts into you and he lost it cumming too. if he was a better man he would've pulled out but satoru knew that he would never pull out when it comes to you. he's seen birth control in your bathroom before and when he saw it he frowned, he hopes that you missed it today. either way he's making sure to bury himself in you as deep as he can get hoping that even if you did take birth control today it won't be good enough to stop his intention- his deep desire to breed you. thoughts racing through his head, 'silly girls don't need to go to university they should just stay at home. i've got more than enough money to look after her. she'd look so good, her body even softer than it already is. she'd make such a good mama.' as he comes his body goes taut and he groans loudly saying your name and stilling.

you're both catching your breathe, not speaking for a minute, recovering for the most mindblowing sex both of you have ever had.

he wants to stay where he is but he knows he can't. when he moves you whimper, feeling empty all of a sudden, and it makes his ego rise, "sorry princess, i'm going to get you a towel okay." satoru kisses your forehead before rising and getting a towel from the bathroom, coming back and kneeling, swiping the towel gently over your inner thighs and pussy. kissing your hip and looking back at you, "are you okay?"

you're breathless as you reply, "yeah."

satoru smirks, "that's good."

you cover your face with your hands, timid with the way gojo's focused on you. putting the towel down he holds onto your hands and removes them from your face so he can see you again, smiling at you sweetly and kissing your forehead again.

"satoru what's going to happen now?" you're almost silent, if he wasn't so laser focused on every movement and thing you do he might not have heard.

"we could watch another film but it's getting late."

"no... i mean with us..."

satoru furrows his eyebrows, not understanding the question. "us?"

"yeah i-i mean are we s-still friends?"

"friends?" he looks at you like you've grown an extra head and your stomach sinks, if you knew this would've been the outcome you would've done something differently.

you don't want to lose gojo, you really don't want to lose gojo. you don't want to cry in front of him, you don't want it to get misconstrued and him to think that you're trying to manipulate him or change his mind but the idea of not having satoru in your life is heartbreaking. wait... heartbreaking? however the tears still come and the words get lodged in your throat. you manage to get some words out but it's barely audible with how erratic your breathing is becoming and how you keep swallowing every five seconds. "can i do anything to make us be friends again? i don't want to lose you." you're sniffling and you know you sound needy and probably desperate too but that's not your main focus right now.

"lose me?" he squints and gently wipes the tears from your face. "why would you lose me?" he cups you cheek, "princess how do you feel about me?"

your mouth parts open, you're glad that he's suggesting that you're not going to lose him but that's completely overshadowed with the question he's asked. you stay silent, not moving a muscle, how do you feel about him?

'satoru's my friend, my best friend! so... i feel that he's my friend? did i feel this way about my other friends? i lost my other friends and it was awful, i hated it but if i lost satoru... i think it would be worse than awful. maybe soul crushing is accurate... heartbreaking sounds more accurate. can someone be heartbroken about a friend? can i?'

you can't say anything, you don't know what to say, all your thoughts are muddled and you feel lost. gojo's still cupping your cheek, now stroking it with his thumb. "alright then princess, let me tell you." you don't know how he's going to tell you, you don't even understand yourself. "you don't see me as a friend anymore." he says simply and your eyes widen, and he holds onto your elbow with no force with his other hand to stop you if you try to draw away.

"do you know why i know that princess?" satoru asks you, his voice tethered, borderlining on husky. unsure you shake your head. "because friends don't act like you do. they don't get jealous about the thought of me taking girls out to restaurants, they don't check me out when they think i'm not looking. friends don't make a photo of us together as their lockscreen and wallpaper-"

at that you interrupt him, "you have me on your lockscreen too!" but he puts his fingers to your lips to gesture for you to keep quiet.

"not finished yet sweetheart. friends don't send each other good morning texts as soon as they wake up and they don't memorise my order at cafés we go to. friends don't stare at my lips and compliment my eyes all the time. friends don't look at me longingly. friends don't go to romantic restaurants alone together."

he pauses watching with rapt attention as you look down at your lap, he doesn't make you look up at him this time and waits for your response. when you decide to look back at him you calm your breathing as much as you can, "b-but you do those things too satoru..."

satoru grins brightly, "yeah i do, sooo... that would mean what?" he presses you to answer him.

"do you- do you- am i more than a friend to you satoru?"

"bingo!"

you feel like you're dreaming, nothing feels real. you could never of guessed that gojo feels that way or that you're his type. "is that why we had sex?"

satoru chuckles, not answering but instead replying, "you're so cute!" it makes your face heat up. "do you want me to tell you a secret?" you're nervous and dubious but you nod your head softly. gojo moves even closer than you, "you're more than just my friend princess," he leans closer to your ear and whispers "i love you."

you blink at him- once, twice, three times. you understand now that gojo is more than a friend to you and you recognise it's been this way for a very long time but through all his speech you didn't consider he felt the same. maybe that's why you didn't understand your own feelings, because if gojo acts the same as you do and calls you his friend you never questioned about if you really felt friendship towards him.

how long as satoru known all this and has kept you in the dark? what if he choose not to ever tell you? would you end up in a relationship with someone else only to break their heart when you finally realise that you're in love with satoru. your mouth is dry and you lick your lips swallowing to wet them, your voice still sounds a little hoarse though as you say, "why didn't you tell me?"

"because you'll understand and accept your own feelings and mine. i wanted to tell you but i know you, i knew that you would just deny it and ignore your feelings and it could result in something changing with us and that was the last thing i wanted sweetheart, it would kill me but i knew that it was time. i knew that you'd accept both of our feelings," he asserts and he's so close to you that you can feel his body heat.

you know what he's saying is true but you can't help but pout. "how do you know me better than myself satoru?"

satoru chuckles. well he does spend a great deal of his time loving everything you do...

"plus i couldn't keep it in any longer princess, i swear i was going mad. i would probably have folded soon and tell you," he whines and you giggle.

you take a deep breath and look at him straight in the eye, your whole body feeling fuzzy, "satoru i love you."

'yeah i know.'

gojo grins and wipes his forehead dramatically, "thank god." he holds onto the nape of your neck and pulls you to his lips so he can kiss you hungrily, as he pulls away he asks "do you still want to sleep in the spare room tonight? my room is more comfortable... and there may be some boxes on the bed that i haven't moved."

your eyes widen, "say you're joking 'toru!"

he throws his hands up and grins "well..."

you don't stay mad at him long, you've both confessed your love to each other it's not like you can be annoyed at him, you grin back, "i can't believe you."

"i swear it wasn't planned just a happy coincidence... that i chose not to tell you about... but it's okay because we can just use that room for any of your extra stuff when you move in."

you open your mouth wide in disbelief, "i cannot believe you satoru!"

"aw come on you know you love me!" he chuckles and you glare at him before be pokes your cheek and you start laughing too.

ko-fi <3

[kiyawritesforf1]

Love in the Blind Spot

Pairing : Lando Norris x Sainz!Reader

Summary : Y/N spent a year hiding her identity as Carlos Sainz’s sister while dating Lando Norris, but when the truth finally comes out, chaos—and a very protective older brother—ensues.

Y/N had spent years keeping her life separate from Formula 1.

She loved her brother, but she hated the attention that came with being Carlos Sainz’s sister. The cameras, the headlines, the way people treated her differently once they knew her last name—she wanted none of it.

So when she met Lando Norris outside of the F1 world, she saw an opportunity.

He didn’t know who she was.

And she didn’t tell him.

For a year, she let herself be just Y/N. No paddock, no press, no constant questions about Carlos. Just her and Lando, existing in their own little world.

But secrets don’t stay hidden forever.

And this one was about to come crashing down.

Carlos Realizes

Carlos Sainz was a patient man. But something wasn’t adding up.

Over the past year, he had noticed the changes in Lando. The hushed phone calls, the unexplained grins after texting someone, the way he sometimes disappeared on off-weekends without telling anyone where he was going.

Carlos wasn’t stupid. Lando was obviously dating someone.

But when he caught Lando FaceTiming someone late at night, smiling in that dopey, affectionate way Carlos had never seen before, a strange feeling settled in his stomach.

Then, one day, while scrolling through Instagram, a picture caught his attention.

A group shot from a café in Monaco. A familiar café.

And right there, barely noticeable in the background, was his sister.

Carlos frowned. She had never mentioned going there. She never mentioned anything about her personal life these days.

But what made his heart stop was the way Lando’s hand was resting on hers under the table—small, subtle, but undeniably intimate.

Carlos stared at the photo. His brain refused to accept it.

No. No way.

But once the thought was in his head, he couldn’t ignore it.

The little things started making sense. The secretive smiles. The way Lando had accidentally called him “bro” one too many times recently. The way Y/N had been avoiding family gatherings, always with a vague excuse.

It felt like a punch to the gut.

His teammate.

His friend.

Had been dating his little sister.

And never told him.

Carlos was already dialing Y/N’s number before he could think twice.

The Confrontation

“You have two seconds to explain,” Carlos said the moment Y/N picked up.

Y/N froze. “…Explain what?”

Carlos let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Don’t play dumb, hermana. You and Lando.”

Silence.

Then, a quiet sigh. “…How did you find out?”

Carlos clenched his jaw. “So it’s true?”

Y/N hesitated before whispering, “Yes.”

Carlos closed his eyes. He didn’t even know what to feel. Anger? Betrayal? Confusion?

“How long?” he asked, voice tight.

“…A year.”

Carlos nearly dropped his phone.

“A YEAR?!”

Y/N winced. “Carlos, please—”

“A whole damn YEAR, Y/N?” Carlos’s voice was rising now. “And neither of you thought to tell me?!”

“I wanted to,” she admitted. “But I knew how you’d react.”

Carlos scoffed. “Oh, you knew? So you just decided to keep me in the dark?”

“I didn’t want you to make a big deal out of it.”

Carlos ran a hand through his hair, pacing. “Of course it’s a big deal! You’re my sister!”

“I know,” Y/N said softly. “But that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. I wanted to be just me, not ‘Carlos Sainz’s little sister.’”

Carlos sighed heavily. He understood, but that didn’t mean he liked it.

“Does he—” Carlos swallowed. “Does he treat you right?”

Y/N smiled a little. “He makes me happy, Carlos.”

Carlos groaned. “That’s not an answer.”

“Yes, he treats me right. He loves me.”

Carlos let out a long breath. He still wanted to strangle Lando. But more than that, he wanted to hear it from him directly.

Because if Lando Norris had been secretly dating his sister for a year?

Then the next conversation was going to be a lot worse.

Lando’s Worst Nightmare

Lando had faced high-pressure situations before. Last-lap battles, tricky tire strategies, press conferences filled with impossible questions.

None of them compared to this.

Carlos had asked to “have a chat” after the team meeting, and Lando had never felt his stomach drop so fast in his life.

Now, here he was, standing in the McLaren motorhome, watching as Carlos crossed his arms, his expression unreadable.

Lando swallowed hard. “Hey, mate.”

Carlos didn’t return the greeting. He just tilted his head slightly. “You’re dating my sister.”

Lando forced a nervous chuckle. “So, you’ve heard.”

Carlos blinked slowly. “I heard it directly from her. You, on the other hand, never thought to mention it?”

Lando scratched the back of his neck. “In my defense… I didn’t know.”

Carlos arched a brow. “For a year?”

Lando sighed. “I swear, if I had known, I wouldn’t have kept it from you.”

Carlos exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Lando, do you have any idea how weird this is for me?”

Lando grimaced. “I can imagine.”

Carlos took a step closer, his voice dropping slightly. “Tell me something, Lando.”

Lando tensed. “Yeah?”

Carlos held his gaze. “Are you serious about her?”

Lando’s breath caught slightly at the directness of the question.

This wasn’t just a teammate talking. This was an older brother who loved his sister more than anything.

And Lando had only one answer.

“Yes,” he said, no hesitation. “I love her.”

Carlos stared at him for a long moment, reading him, weighing his words.

Then, finally, he sighed. “Good.”

Lando blinked. “Good?”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “You think I’d let you off that easy?”

Lando gulped. “Uh—”

Carlos smirked, but it wasn’t comforting. “Just know, if you ever hurt her…”

Lando nodded quickly. “Yeah. Got it. Loud and clear.”

Carlos clapped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing just a little too hard. “Welcome to the family, Norris.”

Lando wasn’t sure if he had just won or signed his own death sentence.

The Paddock Chaos

Y/N had successfully avoided the F1 paddock for years.

But now, she was walking through it hand-in-hand with Lando Norris.

And everyone was staring.

Charles smirked. “So, you’re real.”

Daniel slung an arm around Lando. “When’s the wedding?”

Y/N and Lando nearly choked.

Carlos’s eyes darkened. “Absolutely not.”

Lando held up his hands. “Let’s get through today first, yeah?”

The teasing continued all day, and Y/N quickly realized that dating an F1 driver—while also being related to another—meant there was no escape.

But that night, curled up with Lando, she knew one thing for sure.

She wouldn’t trade this for anything.

[screambirdscreaming]

Something that peeves me whenever I see another post going around with some variation on "autistic people take things literally which means we are the only people who communicate Clearly and Directly" is that - for any given statement, there is not one singular, agreed on, universal Literal Interpretation. If there was, none of this would be a problem!

The nature of language is that there's always some degree of interpretability. Words have several different meanings, often overlapping, and there's nuance of context, cultural references, and so on.

Faced with a statement, most people will quickly come up with an interpretation that to them makes the most sense. But if you asked a roomful of people to explain in detail their interpretations, everyone's would probably be a little different, even for a pretty simple statement. Regardless of whether those people are autistic! Everyone conceptualizes the world a little differently, and everyone has a unique personal history of all the language they've encountered, and these things effect our interpretations.

In order for communication to be workable, given this slosh in interpretability, there's another couple of processes that go on. As conversation goes on, people reassess if their initial interpretation matches up with additional context. If it doesn't, they revise it, or ask clarifying questions. And on the flipside of this process, the other person in conversation is tracking if your reactions make sense with *their* understanding of what they're trying to convey to you, and offering context or rephrasing things if it seems you're out of alignment.

These processes are social skillsets that are, like most social skillsets, not ever directly articulated or explained. Many people are bad at one or both. Sometimes you encounter someone who is really, notably good at it - the vaunted "good listener", who puts in the effort to really understand what you're trying to say, or that really excellent teacher who engages with you back and forth until you really get it. But a lot of the time, it's a sort of passive social friction - people just not getting each other.

Sometimes, you encounter someone whose brain works so much like yours that talking to them feels almost effortless - you just get each other. But that's a pretty rare occurrence for anyone. More often, as you get to know someone, you start to understand the shape of the way they interpret things and learn to account for it, so over time it's easier to make sense to each other.

It's honestly not uncommon in society for people to aggregate in groups of people who interpret things similarly, and who are thus easier to talk to, rather than actually building the skills of communicating across interpretation gaps. Particularly egregious are those groups of men who talk about Women as an incomprehensible monolith, but it turns up to a greater or lesser degree on a lot of levels.

I suspect this is the root of a lot of parenting problems - people who have never built this communication skillset, and relied on choosing friends who make sense to them without a lot of effort, and who are then totally unprepared to interact with a child who interprets things in ways they don't expect.

Obviously I can't speak to The Universal Typical Experience, not least because it doesn't exist. But in general I would posit that:

Most people, give or take a few assholes, are not trying to say things that are confusing. Most people think they are communicating clearly, because the first interpretation *they* would come up with on hearing one of their own sentences is the correct interpretation.

Many people are not very good at accounting for different ways people could interpret things they're saying. However, it is normal and polite social behavior to be somewhat flexible about this and forgiving of misunderstandings. If people are being shitty to you about not understanding them, they are assholes. And I wouldn't assume that the rest of the communication they have with everyone else they know goes totally smoothly for them.

I suspect there is a bit of an unfortunate feedback loop, where people have bad experiences when someone gets mad at them for not getting something, and learn to hide when they're confused. Which then leads to larger, more complicated misunderstandings, which other different people get upset at them about, because those people think they should have asked for clarification in the first place.

Truly you can't win with everyone. No one can win with everyone. There is no monolith of "neurotypical communication" which resolves all these contradictions - all those people you're lumping in together under "neurotypical" have just as much trouble with each other.

[foone]

I visited the world where Gerard Way was visiting family in Minneapolis on 9/11 so he kept his Cartoon Network job instead of becoming a musician.

It's pretty similar to ours. He didn't go into cartoons as you might expect, but he is way more famous in the comic book world.

As for butterfly effects, MCR doesn't exist, so Twilight doesn't exist, which means 50 Shades of Grey doesn't exist. I couldn't find any references to Stephenie Meyer or E. L. James, so either they didn't go into writing or they didn't use those same pen names.

Robert Pattinson was in Harry P*tter and then mainly independent stuff from then on out.

Kristen Stewart is somehow a bigger star than in this world? She was in Red Revenge, 2012 Soviet film about WW3 happening in the 60s and then in the 80s the survivors come over to the US to find out of anything survives of the cowardly US leadership that started the war. (yes, they shoot Reagan. He's out of his mind and it's shot like Old Yeller). She's been in a lot of USSR films since then, as this greatly raised her profile.

Taylor Lautner seems to have become a writer instead of an actor. He wrote one of the later seasons of Firefly, after it went all season-long-arcs. He technically cameo'd in season 6 but it was just as a guy who ran a casino station. He had like three lines, two of which were "get off my station!" and "guards!"

I didn't see any real differences in the music world. Sometimes you take out a band or form a super-group with interdimensional exploration, and it changes the whole field. Like if you take out Nirvana the 90s look very different, or if you help the Back Road Boys form then the 2010s are all about the retro-country revival. Anyway: MCR, as good a band as they are, don't appear to be one of those "linchpin" bands that affect the whole musical landscape.

BTW, the weirdest one of those? Michael Fucking Jackson. He's a super influential musician, inspired so many others, the king of pop, right? NOPE! If his music career is skipped, then it only affects his siblings and the one hit wonder "Somebody's Watching Me" by Rockwell.

Strange, right? There's more downstream time effects on the music industry from taking out David Hasselhoff!

[bucketofpaint]

Danny is Damian's clone.

He's well aware of it. He wasn't just any clone. He was the very first. That was the difference between Danny and other clones. He was made before the League started using brainwashing and stuff into their cloning process.

When Danny was fresh out of the tube, the League had sat him down and explained his the purpose of his existence, gave him some intense training, and immediately tossed him out into the world.

But the thing was, he just didn't care. He had absolutely no loyalty to his creators, and he had no desire to kill/kidnap his original. So he just started walking. The next thing he knew, he was at some orphanage in Illinois.

And then the rest was history. He got adopted by a pair of enthusiastic scientists and their red-head daughter, got his own name, and he could finally start living his own life.

Danny had put the past behind him and had barely even thought about it at all for a long time. That was unill his original showed up at his school.

----------------

Damien was annoyed. He was stuck at some random Illinois town (supposed to be the most haunted place in the world, which was a bunch of ludicrous.) On a transfer program. He tried convincing Father how illogical it would be, but Father had told him it would be good for him to meet new people.

___

Danny was annoyed.

"I don't understand what the big deal about him is anyways," Danny complained.

"He started being the ceo of Wayne Enterprise when he was a teenager." Sam countered.

"Ok, so, nepotism."

Sam rolled her eyes. "I still don't understand why you're so against him."

"One, billionaire. Two, Tucker is way cooler than Tim Drake.

Sam's eyes soften. " Tucker is just gone for a few weeks."

Danny's cheeks felt warm. "I never said anything about that. I just want Tucker to find a cooler role model, is all.

Sam gave him an all-knowing look. "Well, if you say so. I'm going to get in line."

Sam, all ways waited last to get in the lunch line. Claiming she didn't want to hold up line when the lunch ladies had to get the vegetarian option. Which was fine, but now that Tucker was doing the dumb transfer student program, all he could do was eat his mediocre lunch and mindlessly play on his phone.

Untill someone grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the cafeteria into the hallway. Danny turned around to face the person. He froze at the sight of his own face. Or well, a glaring rich kid version.

"Oh, it's you." Danny said nonchalant, even though he was screaming inside.

"You're not going to play dumb, clone?"

"No, why would I, The resemblance is uncanny.

"What are you doing here?" His original demanded

"You dragged me here."

His original scowled. "You know what I mean, clone. I won't hesitate to end you."

"Just trying to go to school, honest."

Original glared at him, scanning him with his eyes. The grip on Danny's arm loosened. " I'll be watching you, clone."

" Whatever you say, template."

Danny walked back to the cafeteria, blocking out the yells of rage behind him.

___

It was about a week of Damian watching his clone, and he was confused. At first, he thought the league sent the clone to trade places with him before he went back to Gotham, but now he wasn't sure. The Clone seemed to fit in the community to well to have show up recently, but that didn't disprove the theory entirely. It could be a long-term plan from the League. They could be responsible for putting the transfer program in place in the first place.

The other theory was that the clone escaped and made a life for himself, but that didn't explain how he got past his programming.

After the last period, Damian found his clone and pulled him aside.

"What do you want?" His clone asked, irritated.

"You're different then other clones, explain."

"I don't know. I didn't really stick around very long to find out."

"What about your programming?"

"I didn't have any?"

Damian thought about it before giving a small nod. "You don't seem to be a threat, but I'll still keep my eye on you, clone."

"I've got a name, you know." He held out his hand. "Danny Fenton, nice to make your acquaintance."

Damian heistently shook his hand. "Damian Wayne."

That started their unsaid agreement. You don't mess with me, I don’t mess with you. They interacted with each other sometimes, but not very offen. They were impartial to one another, and both sides weren't very keen on getting to know each other. And that was their relationship till the day Damian was leaving.

Damian was waiting for the bus when Danny approached him.

"What do you want, Daniel?"

"I told not to call me that, but uh, here." Danny handed a piece of paper to him. "It's my phone number if you ever need help from the League or anything."

Damian slipped the paper into his pocket. "Give me your phone." Danny handed over his phone, and Damian started typing.

"What are you doing?" Danny asked.

"I'm putting my number in. If you ever require assistance."

Danny smiled, "Thanks."

____

A few months later.

Tim was peeking over a corner.

"What are you doing?" Dick asked.

Tim didn't say anything and just waved him over. He walked over and stared in aw at what he saw. Damian was slouched on the couch, his hair messy, playing on his phone.

A few minutes later, Jason joined.

"Am I hallucinating?" Tim whispered.

"Nah, I don't think so... unless we're all hallucinating." Jason whispered back.

"Do you think he has brain damage or been possessed or something?" Tim asked.

Dick shook his head. "That seems unlikely."

"This is so trippy. I've never seen him wear anything that casually like ever.

"What are you imbeciles doing?"

"We're watching Damian."

All three of them froze and turned to look at a glaring Damian.

Damian walked past them and went right up to the second Damian.

"Daniel, what are you doing here?"

The causal Damian 'Daniel' pulled out a letter. "Your pops invited me, and I didn’t want to risk the chance of batman showing up at my front door."

Damian scoffed, "Of course, Father found out."

Alfred walked in. "Master Daniel, I'll be taking you to Master Bruce."

The double got up and went to Alfred.

"Cookie, Master Daniel?"

"Sure, and call me danny."

[mrsfancyferrari]

Hey I hope you've having an amazing day/evening/night. This is my first time requesting something😅, and I was wondering if you could possibility write something like what you did with my type but the reader having natural auburn curly hair, with freckles thinking that she's not his type or something along those lines.

Gold in Snow

Summary: you and lando are in a relationship but you're reserving hate comments about you being a ginger, with freckles because the fans don't think you're his type

Song: Golden Hour · JVKE

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 5.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

The roar of the crowd was deafening. Another podium finish for Lando, another shower of champagne soaking his expensive suit. You watched from the relative calm of the garage, a small smile playing on your lips.

He looked genuinely happy, and that, more than anything, made the constant noise and pressure of Formula 1 palatable.

You’d been dating Lando Norris for almost a year now. A year of stolen moments, whispered secrets in hotel rooms, and navigating the chaotic whirlwind that was his life. A year of pure bliss…mostly.

The “mostly” came in the form of comment sections. Forums. Twitter threads dedicated to dissecting every pixel of your existence and comparing it to the accepted prototype of a WAG – Wives and Girlfriends – in the F1 world.

You were… different.

They’d say it with a thinly veiled, almost clinical detachment, but the message was always the same: you didn’t fit. You were too… ginger. Too freckled. Too… you.

The ginger part bothered them the most. Lando was a global superstar, practically sculpted from marble, with a smile that could melt glaciers. He was everything they wanted him to be: conventionally attractive, charming, and effortlessly cool.

And you? You were… well, very, very pale. Your hair was a fiery halo, and your skin was dotted with a constellation of freckles that bloomed fiercer in the summer sun.

“He likes the exotic look,” one comment had sniped. “She’s probably got a killer tan when she’s not hiding in the shade.”

You’d chuckled then, a hollow sound that didn’t quite reach your heart. Exotic? You’d spent your life battling sunburns and jokes about having no soul.

And killer tan? Honey, you burned so fast, lifeguards would start applying sunscreen just by looking at you.

You tried to ignore it. Lando certainly seemed to. He showered you with affection, praised your quick wit and sharp mind, and constantly reminded you how beautiful he found you, flaws and all.

But the insidious comments burrowed under your skin, planting seeds of doubt that you desperately tried to weed out.

You saw him heading towards the garage now, adrenaline still buzzing through him. His eyes found yours, and that signature Lando grin spread across his face. Your heart did that familiar little flip.

“Hey!” he said, pulling you into a hug. He smelled of champagne and victory. “Did you see that last overtake? Unbelievable!”

You laughed, burying your face in his still-damp fire suit. “Yes, I saw it. You were amazing, as always. Just try not to spray me next time, okay?”

He pulled back, his brow furrowed. “You okay? You seem… quiet.”

You forced a smile. “Just tired. It’s been a long weekend.”

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. “Well, we’re flying back tomorrow morning. We can just chill in the hotel tonight. Order some room service, maybe watch a movie?”

“Sounds perfect,” you said, meaning it. Just the two of you, away from the cameras and the judgment.

That night, as you lay in his arms in the dimly lit hotel room, the familiar ache in your chest returned. You couldn't shake the feeling that you were somehow… undeserving.

“Lando?” you whispered, the sound barely audible above the hum of the air conditioning.

“Hmm?” He nuzzled into your hair.

“Do you… do you ever read the comments? About us?”

He stiffened slightly. “I try not to. You know how toxic that can be.”

“But you do read them, right? Sometimes?”

He sighed, a heavy sound that vibrated against your chest. “Okay, yeah, sometimes. But I don’t pay any attention to them. They’re just… noise.”

“Noise that says I’m not good enough for you.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

He pulled back, his eyes searching yours in the dimness. “What? That’s ridiculous. Who says that?”

“Everyone. Online, anyway. They don’t think I’m your type. They think I’m… too ginger. Too freckled. Too… plain.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones. “Hey. Look at me. You are absolutely stunning. Inside and out. You are intelligent, funny, kind, and you have the most beautiful smile in the world. And yes,” he added with a mischievous grin, “I also happen to think your hair is gorgeous, and your freckles are like little constellations scattered across your skin. They’re unique, just like you.”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes. “But they say…”

“They say a lot of things. People are always going to have opinions. But their opinions don’t matter. Only mine does. And I think you are perfect.”

He leaned in and kissed you, a slow, tender kiss that chased away the doubts, at least for a moment.

But even as you melted into him, a small, insidious voice whispered in the back of your mind: He’s just saying that. He has to say that.

The knot in your stomach tightened with each passing day, each new photo plastered across social media. You and Lando, laughing at a restaurant, holding hands at the airport, just being normal.

What shouldn't have been a cause for concern, was. It should have been a happy bubble of romance, but it was quickly becoming a breeding ground for anxiety, a place where your insecurities festered and grew.

Because under each picture, nestled amongst the supportive comments and heart emojis, they lurked. The whispers, the not-so-subtle digs.

"He could do so much better." "She's not even his type." "Another generic influencer." And the worst of it? "Ginger + Freckles = No."

You knew it was irrational. Lando loved you. He told you every day, showed you in a million little ways, from the way he held your hand to the way he looked at you with genuine adoration.

But the internet had a way of burrowing into your brain, planting seeds of doubt that blossomed into thorny vines. You found yourself scrutinizing your reflection, picking apart every freckle, every strand of your fiery hair.

Was it too much? Was it enough? Were you enough?

"Penny for your thoughts?" Lando's voice startled you, pulling you back from the precipice of your spiral. He was standing in the doorway of your shared flat, his racing helmet tucked under his arm, a familiar mischievous grin playing on his lips.

"Just thinking about this weekend," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. "Excited for the snow."

"Me too! Max and Steve are already counting down the hours. You're coming to the slopes tomorrow, right?"

You hesitated. "I… I have something I need to do in the morning. I'll meet you guys up there later, okay?"

Lando frowned, his blue eyes searching yours. "Everything alright, love? You seem a bit off."

"I'm fine," you insisted, forcing a smile. "Just… a doctor's appointment. Nothing serious. I'll explain later. Promise."

He didn't look convinced, but he knew better than to push. "Alright. Just text me when you're on your way. Drive safe.”

He kissed your forehead, the warmth of his touch a brief comfort against the chill that had settled within you and left.

The next morning, the drive to the snow mountains felt endless. Each mile was another step closer to the potential storm brewing in your head.

You told yourself you were being ridiculous, that you were letting faceless strangers dictate your feelings. But the seed of doubt had been planted, watered, and was now taking root.

When you finally arrived at the ski resort, the crisp mountain air did little to soothe your nerves. You walked into the reception area, the scent of pine and hot chocolate thick in the air.

"Name?" the receptionist asked, her eyes glued to the computer screen.

"It's… uh… Y/L/N, party of Lando Norris."

The receptionist's fingers clicked across the keyboard, and she looked up, a polite professional smile gracing her lips. "Ah, yes. Mr. Norris's party. You're all set. Here's your lift pass. Your equipment rental is just through those doors. Have a wonderful day."

You collected your ski boots and poles from the rental shop, the familiar weight grounding you slightly. You'd been skiing since you were a kid, practically born on the slopes.

It was one of the few places you felt truly free, truly yourself.

You strapped on your skis and headed towards the main lift, scanning the crowd for a flash of Lando's familiar McLaren Racing beanie or the boisterous laughter of Max and Steve.

The lift carried you higher and higher, the view expanding to reveal a breathtaking panorama of snow-covered peaks and pristine valleys.

For a moment, the internet, the comments, the doubts, all faded away. You breathed in the crisp air, feeling the thrill of anticipation course through you.

As you reached the top, you spotted them. Lando, grinning and waving, Max, already carving down the slope with reckless abandon, and Steve, carefully navigating the beginner trail.

You took a deep breath, pushed off, and let gravity do its work. The wind whipped through your hair, the sun glinted off the snow, and for the first time that day, you felt a genuine smile spread across your face.

You were good. Really good. You weaved and turned, carving graceful arcs in the powder, your ginger hair a vibrant streak against the white landscape. You glided past other skiers, feeling the rush of adrenaline as you navigated the slopes with practiced ease.

You found yourself on a black diamond run, moguls stretching out before you like frozen waves. This was where you belonged, where you felt alive. You took a deep breath and launched yourself into the challenge, navigating the bumps and dips with precision and skill.

Suddenly, you heard a whoop of excitement and a familiar voice. "Wow, check out the ginger ninja!"

You glanced over your shoulder and saw a couple of guys, clearly impressed by your skiing skills.

You grinned, threw them a wink, and continued your descent, the compliment a small spark of warmth against the doubt that still lingered.

The crisp mountain air bit at Lando’s cheeks, painting them a matching shade to the gaudy orange ski suit Max insisted he wear. He shifted his weight from one ski boot to the other, impatience radiating off him in visible waves.

He’d been waiting at the base of the slope for what felt like an eternity. Max was already halfway up the mountain for his third run. Steve was content to nurse a lukewarm hot chocolate and offer unsolicited advice on Lando’s form, despite the fact Lando hadn't even put his skis on yet.

"She's taking her time," Steve commented, taking another careful sip. "Probably intimidated by the black runs."

Lando rolled his eyes, though fondness softened the gesture. He knew you weren't intimidated by anything. This was more than likely your first time on the slopes, so you were probably taking it easy.

You were a natural athlete, thriving on competition, but you’d also confessed, with a sheepish grin, that skiing looked deceptively easy on TV.

He was about to tell Steve as much when Steve suddenly straightened, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Oh, there's your girl!"

Lando spun around, instantly forgetting the cold, the wait, and Steve’s irritating commentary. He searched the throng of skiers snaking down the slope, his heart doing a little skip. And then he saw you.

You moved with a surprising grace, your skis carving effortless arcs in the snow. Sunlight caught in your fiery red hair, turning it into a cascade of glittering copper. Each freckle seemed to dance on your skin, illuminated by the mountain sun.

He knew, objectively, that you were beautiful. He saw it every day. But seeing you now, flushed with exertion and radiant with joy, took his breath away.

He froze, utterly captivated, as you approached. You navigated the final stretch with smooth confidence. “Show off,” he muttered under his breath, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You slowed to a stop, kicking up a spray of snow just inches from his boots.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, laughing. You pushed your goggles up onto your forehead, revealing eyes the color of warm honey. "Sorry! How long have you been waiting?"

Your cheeks were rosy, your breath misting in the cold air. Lando stared, speechless.

"Baby? What's wrong?" you asked, your brow furrowing with concern. You reached out, your ungloved hand gently touching his cheek. The cold stung, but he barely noticed.

He swallowed, his voice a low rasp. "You're beautiful."

The words were a whisper, almost lost in the wind. He hadn’t meant to say it so abruptly, so…exposed. But the sight of you, framed by the snow-covered peaks, had rendered him incapable of coherent thought.

Your eyes widened slightly, and a blush bloomed on your cheeks, a delicate counterpoint to the healthy glow of the mountain air. "Lando," you said softly, "you okay? Are you coming down with something?"

He blinked, shaking himself slightly. "No, I'm fine. More than fine, actually. You just…you look incredible."

Steve coughed pointedly beside him. Max, having apparently teleported from the top of the mountain, snickered. Lando shot them both a warning glare. They knew how self-conscious you were, especially around his racing colleagues.

The comments section of his social media had been a cesspool ever since you two became public. Hateful words about your appearance, thinly veiled as concerned opinions that you weren’t “his type,” were a constant, ugly background noise.

He knew it bothered you, even though you tried to brush it off with a laugh and a casual, "Haters gonna hate." But he saw the flicker of hurt in your eyes when you thought no one was looking.

He hated those comments, hated the people who wrote them, and hated that they had the power to make you feel anything less than extraordinary.

He took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. "Ignore them," he said, his voice firm, his gaze locked on yours.

You looked confused. "Ignore who? Max and Steve?"

"Everyone," he said, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. "Anyone who makes you feel like you're anything less than perfect. Because you are. Perfect. Just the way you are."

The blush on your cheeks deepened, and you ducked your head slightly, a shy smile playing on your lips. "You're sweet," you mumbled. "But I know I'm not everyone's cup of tea."

"Good," Lando said fiercely. "You're mine. And that's all that matters." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, ignoring Max's exaggerated gagging noises.

He pulled back and met your gaze, his expression serious. "Listen to me. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you're not beautiful, or that you're not good enough, or that you don't belong. Because they're wrong. They’re absolutely, unequivocally wrong. You’re amazing, inside and out. You’re kind, you’re funny, you’re fiercely intelligent, and yes, you’re unbelievably beautiful. And I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have you."

A tear, born of emotion and the biting wind, escaped your eye. "You're going to make me cry," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

"Good," Lando said, wiping the tear away with his thumb. "Let them see you cry. Let them see how real and how beautiful you are. Don't hide anything. Don't let anyone dim your light."

He knew his words were bold, maybe even a little cheesy, but he meant every single one of them. He wanted you to know, deep down, that he saw you, truly saw you, and that nothing anyone said would ever change that.

Max, surprisingly, had stopped snickering. He clapped Lando on the shoulder. "Alright, mate, enough with the declarations of love. Let's hit the slopes. Before I get frostbite."

Steve nodded in agreement. “He’s right, Lando. You can gush later. Right now, let’s see if your girl’s got what it takes.” He winked at you. “No pressure.”

You smiled, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Pressure is my middle name," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let's go."

Lando grinned, relieved to see the familiar spark back in your eyes. He squeezed your hand one last time before letting go.

He watched as you adjusted your goggles and clicked your poles into the snow. He felt a surge of pride watching you. He knew the comments would still be there, lurking in the shadows of the internet, waiting to pounce.

But he also knew that you were strong. You were resilient. And you had him.

He grabbed his own skis, a newfound confidence coursing through him. He would protect you, always. But more than that, he would celebrate you, every freckle, every fiery strand of hair, every brilliant facet of your being.

As you pushed off, gracefully navigating the gentle slope, Lando felt a lightness in his heart that had nothing to do with the altitude. He knew, without a doubt, that their love story was just beginning, and he couldn't wait to see where it would take them.

He followed you down the slope, his orange ski suit a beacon against the white snow. He caught up to you easily, skiing alongside you, matching your pace.

"So," he said, grinning mischievously. "Think you can keep up with me, ginger?"

You laughed, a bright, joyful sound that echoed through the mountains. "Try me, Papaya boy."

And with that, you kicked it up a notch, leaving Lando in your snowy wake.

He laughed, his heart soaring.

He pushed off, determined to catch up, knowing that even if he never did, he would be perfectly content just to chase you, forever. . . .

The papaya coloured dress hung on you, a vibrant splash of sunshine in the sterile white bathroom. It was Lando’s favourite colour, or so he claimed. He said it reminded him of McLaren, of speed, of… you.

But all you could see in the mirror was a canvas of imperfections.

Your reflection stared back, a stranger dissected and judged. The fiery red hair, usually a source of pride, now felt like a neon sign screaming "OUT OF PLACE."

The constellation of freckles scattered across your nose and cheeks, tiny sun-kissed stars Lando often traced with his fingertip, seemed like blemishes, flaws magnified under the harsh bathroom light.

The original plan, a simple elegance of no-makeup and loose waves, lay discarded. You'd envisioned a carefree evening, a confident entrance with Lando by your side.

Now, the thought of facing the public, the prying eyes, the inevitable whispers, felt like climbing a mountain of anxiety.

Social media had been a minefield lately. Ever since your relationship with Lando Norris became public, the comment sections had become a breeding ground for toxicity. Most were overwhelmingly supportive, celebrating your love.

But a persistent undercurrent of negativity gnawed at your confidence. The "fans," or rather, the internet trolls masquerading as them, were relentless.

“She’s not his type.”

“He could do so much better.”

“Ginger? Really? He's lowering his standards.”

The worst were the comments picking apart your appearance. The freckles, the hair, the perceived lack of "glamour." They painted you as an anomaly, someone who didn't belong in Lando's world. It was absurd, of course.

Lando loved you for you. He told you every day. But the insidious nature of online hate was that it seeped in, whispering doubts in your ear when you were most vulnerable.

Tonight, facing a McLaren party filled with glamorous personalities and industry insiders, the doubts had reached a crescendo. You grabbed a tissue from the dispenser, dabbing at the corners of your eyes, fighting back the overwhelming urge to cry.

The reflection in the mirror blurred, the colours swam, and the vibrant papaya felt like a mocking reminder of everything you weren't.

That’s when you heard the familiar click of the front door.

“Y/n?” Lando’s voice echoed through the house, a warm, comforting sound that momentarily cut through the anxiety clouding your mind.

Panic seized you. You couldn't let him see you like this, a mess of insecurities and mascara-smeared cheeks. You needed to compose yourself, to build up a façade of confidence before facing him.

Quickly, you turned the small lock on the bathroom door. The click was loud in the sudden silence.

“Y/n?” he called again, his voice closer now. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, just… just getting ready,” you managed, trying to inject a lightness into your tone that felt utterly fake. Your voice wavered, betraying your true state. “I’ll be out in a second.”

You heard him pause outside the door. “You sure? You sound… different.”

He knew you too well. He always did. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears away. “Just a bit of a headache. Nothing serious.”

Silence hung in the air for a moment, thick with unspoken concern. You could almost feel his presence on the other side of the door.

“Okay,” he said finally, his voice softening. “But don’t rush. I’m happy to wait. Do you want me to get you some water?”

His thoughtfulness, his unwavering care, only made the guilt swell inside you. He was so genuine, so supportive, and here you were, hiding from him, consumed by the petty insecurities fueled by strangers on the internet.

“No, I’m fine,” you insisted, a little too quickly. “Just… give me a few more minutes, okay?”

“Alright,” he said, a hint of reluctance in his voice. You heard him move away from the door. “I’ll be in the living room.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning against the cool porcelain of the sink. This couldn’t go on. You couldn't let these hateful comments dictate your life, dictate your relationship.

Lando deserved better. You deserved better.

Taking a deep breath, you turned on the cold tap, splashing water on your face. You grabbed a towel and gently patted your skin dry, removing the remnants of your almost-attempted makeup.

You looked at yourself again, really looked.

The fiery hair, the freckles, the flaws… they were all part of you. They were what made you unique, what made you you. And Lando loved you for it. He saw beauty where others saw imperfections.

He saw strength where others saw vulnerability. Why were you letting the opinions of anonymous strangers outweigh the love and adoration of the man you adored?

You let out a shaky sigh, a weight lifting from your shoulders. It wasn't a complete cure, the insecurities wouldn't vanish overnight, but it was a start.

With newfound resolve, you took another look at the papaya dress. It shimmered under the light, a vibrant symbol of sunshine and joy. You smoothed the fabric down, a small smile gracing your lips.

You unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out.

Lando was standing in the living room, fiddling with his phone. He looked up as you entered, his face immediately lighting up. He was wearing a simple dark suit, impeccably tailored, but it was the genuine warmth in his eyes that truly caught your attention.

He took a step towards you, his gaze sweeping over you from head to toe. The smile widened.

“Wow,” he breathed, his voice laced with admiration. “You look absolutely stunning.”

You blushed, the compliment genuine and heartfelt. “Thank you.”

He closed the distance between you, cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs gently stroked your cheeks, tracing the familiar pattern of your freckles.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft with concern. “You seemed a bit… off earlier.”

You hesitated, the urge to brush it off still lingering. But you knew you couldn't hide from him. He deserved the truth.

“I… I saw some comments online,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “About… about me. About not being ‘your type.’”

His expression darkened, his eyes hardening with anger. “Don’t you dare listen to those people, Y/n,” he said fiercely, his grip on your face tightening slightly.

“They don’t know anything. My ‘type’ is someone who is kind, intelligent, funny, and beautiful, inside and out. Someone who makes me laugh every single day. Someone who challenges me and supports me, even when I’m being an idiot. That’s you, Y/n. That's always been you."

He paused, his gaze searching yours, making sure you understood the sincerity of his words.

"And as for the… the physical stuff," he continued, his voice softening again. "Your hair is the most beautiful shade of red I've ever seen. Your freckles are like little constellations, guiding me through the darkness. And that little dimple you get when you smile? Drives me absolutely crazy."

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you’re not good enough, Y/n. Because to me, you are perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of relief, of gratitude, of love.

You threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. “I love you, Lando,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his jacket.

He held you tight, his arms a comforting embrace. “I love you too, Y/n. More than you know.”

After a long moment, you pulled back, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. You took a deep breath, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you.

Lando was right. You couldn't let the negativity of others define you. You had his love, his support, and that was all that mattered.

You looked at him, a genuine smile gracing your lips. "Ready to go to this party?"

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Absolutely. And just so you know, I'm planning on spending the entire night showing you off to everyone. They need to see how lucky I am."

He took your hand in his, his fingers interlacing with yours. As you walked out the door together, you knew, with absolute certainty, that you were exactly where you were supposed to be. And that, you realised, was all that truly mattered.

The haters could say what they wanted. You had Lando, you had your love, and that was more than enough. The papaya dress suddenly felt like armour, not a target.

You were ready to face the world, hand in hand, imperfections and all. . . .

The party was exactly what you expected: loud music, flashing lights, and a sea of familiar faces from the F1 world – drivers, team principals, engineers, and their partners.

The sheer volume of people made your anxiety prickle, but Lando kept a firm grip on your hand, navigating you through the crowd.

He introduced you to what felt like a hundred people, his arm possessively around your waist, his smile beaming. You tried to focus on the conversations, to be witty and engaging, but the whispers seemed to follow you, phantom echoes of the comments haunting your mind.

“Lando’s with her?”

“She’s… different.”

“Not exactly what I expected.”

You squeezed Lando’s hand tighter, trying to ground yourself. He seemed oblivious to the undercurrents, his attention solely focused on you.

“Having fun?” he asked, his voice barely audible above the music.

You forced a smile. “Yeah, it’s… great.”

He looked at you, his eyes searching. He knew you better than anyone, and he could see the forced cheerfulness masking your discomfort.

“Hey,” he murmured, pulling you closer. “If you want to leave, we can. We don’t have to stay here.”

“No,” you said quickly. “No, I’m fine. I want to be here. With you.”

He smiled, relieved. "Okay, but seriously, if you change your mind, just say the word."

Just then, a tall, lanky figure approached, his face breaking into a wide grin. “Lando! Mate, good to see you.”

“Oscar!” Lando clapped him on the back. “Good to see you too. Oscar, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Oscar Piastri.”

Oscar offered you his hand, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You shook his hand, trying to gauge his expression. Was there judgment there? Pity? You couldn’t tell. “Likewise, Oscar. Congratulations on your season so far.”

“Thanks,” he said, his smile genuine. "It's been... interesting, to say the least." He paused, then gestured to a woman standing beside him. "And this is my girlfriend, Lily."

Lily stepped forward, her smile warm and inviting. She had kind eyes and a simple elegance that immediately put you at ease. "It's lovely to meet you, Y/N. Lando talks about you all the time."

You blushed, glancing at Lando, who just winked. "All good things, I hope?"

Lily laughed. "Of course! He's completely smitten."

The four of you fell into easy conversation, discussing the season, the pressures of being in the spotlight, and the challenges of maintaining relationships in such a demanding environment.

You found yourself relaxing, the tension slowly draining away. Lily was refreshingly down-to-earth, and Oscar, despite his reserved demeanour, had a dry wit that you found endearing.

As the conversation flowed, you noticed Lily subtly steer the topic towards your interests, asking about your work, your hobbies, and your passions.

She seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you, not just as Lando’s girlfriend, but as an individual.

“So, Y/N” Lily said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, “Lando tells me you’re a writer? That’s fascinating! What kind of writing do you do?”

“I dabble in a bit of everything,” you replied, feeling your confidence grow. “Short stories, poetry, some freelance journalism. It depends on what sparks my interest, really.”

“That’s amazing,” she gushed. “I’ve always admired people who can write. It’s such a powerful way to express yourself.”

Oscar nodded in agreement. “It is. I’m useless at it. Give me a steering wheel any day.”

Laughter bubbled up from your chest, your earlier anxieties fading into the background. You were having a genuine, enjoyable conversation, with people who seemed to genuinely care about you.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the noise. “Lando, darling! There you are!”

A woman, dripping in diamonds and designer clothes, glided towards you, her eyes scanning you from head to toe with blatant disapproval. You recognized her as the wife of a prominent team principal, a woman known for her sharp tongue and even sharper judgment.

Lando’s smile faltered slightly as he turned to face her. “Genevieve, good to see you.”

She completely ignored Oscar and Lily, her gaze fixed on you. “And who is this, Lando? A new… acquaintance?”

You felt your cheeks flush, the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach. You knew what was coming.

Lando’s arm tightened around your waist. “This is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

The woman’s eyebrows shot up. “This is your girlfriend? How… interesting.” Her tone dripped with condescension. “Well, congratulations, darling. I’m sure you’re very happy.”

She turned back to Lando, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Lando, darling, you really could do so much better. Don't you want to think about your image?”

You felt your heart sink. This was it. The moment of truth. You braced yourself for the inevitable onslaught of negativity.

But then, something unexpected happened. Lando’s eyes flashed with anger, and his grip on your waist tightened protectively.

“I’m perfectly happy, thank you,” he said, his voice cold and firm. “And Y/N is more than enough. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we were in the middle of a conversation.”

He turned his back on the woman, effectively dismissing her. He looked at you, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, still reeling from the encounter. “Yeah,” you mumbled. "I'm okay

Lily stepped forward, her expression fierce. “Honestly, some people are just ridiculous,” she said, her voice laced with scorn. “Don’t let her get to you, Y/N. She’s just jealous.”

Oscar nodded in agreement. “She’s got nothing better to do than spread negativity. Ignore her.”

Lando squeezed your hand. “They’re right. Don’t let her ruin your night.”

You looked at them, at Lando, at Lily, at Oscar. You saw genuine support, genuine kindness, genuine acceptance. And suddenly, the weight on your chest lifted. The comments, the whispers, the judgment – they didn’t matter.

You had people who loved you, who supported you, who valued you for who you were, not for who the internet thought you should be.

You took a deep breath, straightened your shoulders, and smiled. “You know what? You’re right. I’m not going to let her ruin my night.”

Lando grinned, relieved. “That’s the spirit. Now, how about we get out of here and go somewhere more… private?” He winked suggestively.

Lily laughed. “Sounds like a plan. Oscar, you’re driving, right? I’ve had one too many cocktails.”

As you walked away, hand in hand with Lando, you glanced back at Lily and Oscar, a warm feeling of gratitude washing over you. You had found unexpected allies, people who saw past the surface and appreciated you for who you were.

You were still an outsider, still a ginger with freckles, still not “his type” according to the internet. But tonight, surrounded by love and support, you didn’t care. You had Lando, you had friends, and you had the courage to be yourself.

And that, you realised, was more than enough. The papaya dress no longer felt like armour, but a symbol of your strength, your resilience, and your unwavering commitment to being true to yourself.

You were you and you were happy. . . .

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux, yourusername and 867,879 others

landonorris

Happy anniversary to my beautiful girl. Two years. Two years of laughter, adventures, and learning to love you more fiercely every single day. I know the internet can be a dark place, especially for someone as radiant as you. Don't listen to anyone who talks about you bad, especially those whispering nonsense about "types." They see a snapshot; I see the whole damn masterpiece.

Your fiery hair is sunshine on a cloudy day, each freckle a tiny star mapping out the constellation of my heart. They don't see the intelligence that sparkles in your eyes, the quick wit that keeps me on my toes, or the unwavering kindness you show to everyone you meet. They don’t see you. You are everything I could ever want, and more than I ever deserve. So, happy anniversary, my love. Let's keep painting our world with joy, ignoring the noise, and celebrating the beautiful, unique you. I love you more than words can say. ❤️

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[avatarofthearchives]

When we see Gerard Keay interact with statement givers he comes across as pretty socially awkward. For example: In TMA 38, he stares at women until she's uncomfortable and then he goes up to her and insinuates that she's ruining his vacation before saying that she's "marked" by something. Then he doesn't elaborate on what she could be marked by. In another example, when interacting with the nurse in TMA 12, after bottles of saline start to bubble, he says “Yes. For you, better beholding than the lightless flame," which, again, is confusing and the nurse explicitly says that she doesn't know what that means.

And I think that's an interesting note on how being raised in a world where the fears were so normalized affected him as a person.

Because the social mistakes he makes when interacting with the statement givers is talking about the fears as they're these casual things, which does nothing other than confuse and scare people who are already disoriented by what they're going through...but the thing is, you can't really blame him for making these mistakes.

After all, the fears ARE normal to him. They're all he's ever known, and from that perspective, it has to be hard to interact with people who have had such a different existence. There's a good chance he doesn't even register how confusing some of the things he says are, because in his world you don't need to explain what a mark is or why it's better to serve The Eye than the Lightless Flame. That's just a fact of life.

And I think this idea that Gerard just isn't good with interacting with normal people is backed up by the way he seems when we hear him interact with Gertrude and Jon. When he's interacting with people inside his world, he comes across as very witty and charismatic, not off-putting in the way statement givers tend to describe. And I don't think that's because the statement givers are painting a false picture of who he is. Rather, he just has an easier time with people who "get it" and (mostly) need as little context as he does.

Anyway, it has been exactly five minutes since I've had too many thoughts about Gerard Keay. But my main one is this: Gertrude should have gotten the chance to fist-fight Mary at least once because who raises a child like that?

[power-handmaiden]

Chuck Tingle interview

OK, here is the FINAL 2024 Tingles My Butt post, which I've been pretty hyped for. I still kind of can't believe this. While I was figuring out how I'd move on from 2024, @drchucktingle generously offered to answer some questions of mine to commemorate the end of my tingler project! Here they are!

-Considering that your process for tinglers is just to write it out and not stress about proofreading and editing, was it weird for you to see someone decide to go back, examine, and contemplate every single tingler published in the past decade?

the whole dang project was really wonderful for me, for exactly the reason you have just said. tinglers are very STREAM OF CONSCIOUS and only edited with one quick pass so while i think this adds to their honesty and rawness it also means that my time with them is limited. really watching someone go back through them at this depth was like reading a diary that i have not opened for many years, and it jumps around through time in a very beautiful way. it was very moving

-I love tingler character names. I personally admire how many great ones you come up with. (I never know what to name my ttrpg characters.) You just come up with all these great names that seemingly spring from nowhere, how do you do it?

DANG great question cant believe i have not been asked this before but yes there is a type of name that shows up in the tingleverse that is unusual and has a certain feeling and cadence that is very specific. if i am trotting along with sweet barbara and there is a name of a product or a place or something that has this tone we will say ‘oh thats a tingleverse name.’ the reason i wanted to do this in the books was as a very subtle way of saying these stories exist on a timeline that is RIGHT next to ours, so in some ways it is exactly the same as our world but there are these little cultural differences with things like chocolate milk and spaghetti and then with the names. you will have buckaroos like justin and sarah trotting along next to buckaroos named corb torbins-quill or borto lart.

-So, as a reader, reading from 2014 to now, old tinglers and new tinglers feel different to me. I believe you when you say tinglers have always been sincere, but they feel MORE sincere than they used to be. Like, I feel like there was some self-consciousness and irony in some of the early tinglers that you've since let go of and embraced the Chuck Tingle voice more. I don't know, am I imagining this, or does this square with your tingler writing journey? If it does, what has that process been like for you?

i think you are absolutely correct. the intention with tinglers was always to be a place for me to express myself with complete sincerity, but the practical way of HOW to trot like this took a bit of an evolution to arrive at. in other words i knew the basics, but actually refining the best way to express yourself and perform your art takes time. maybe in the same way goin back and watching season one of a tv show can feel very different from season three, even though they are part of the same expression. 

similar thing happened with in my chuck PRESENTATION as well, where my main focus was to stay anonymous so the metaphors i used to talk about my life were still true but laid on much thicker. even my attire was a large gi so that you would not even be able to see my shape, which has obviously changed now because i wear suits these days. all of this was a process of starting in a place i knew was important to me and then peeling off the parts that were not helping the message or expression over time

-Is there anything you could tell us about the significance of Borson Reems? I feel like he's more than just another Buck Trungle/Chuck Tangle/etc but I'm not sure what exactly...

yes borson reems is god. not that i believe in GOD in the way that most buckaroos talk about god (i am agnostic) but within the tingleverse, borson reems is an avatar for the creator of that world. technically i am borson reems, because i am writing the books. the question is: are we all the gods of our own little worlds that we create? i do not know, but when i look around at my buds and the joy and love they bring to various timelines they sure seem like gods to me

-A lot of no-sex tinglers (especially ones that aren't romance-focused) vary in terms of plot and structure a lot more than erotic tinglers. Is your writing process for these stories any different?

same process actually, but the sex scenes in tinglers are about 1500 to 2000 words long, and total tingler length is 4000 words which means if you are not including that portion you are going to have to come up with some creative way to fill that space in the story and a new axis for story to turn on. so the variety comes from me getting creative and trying out different axis points

-In "Not Pounded By My Book "Pounded In The Butt By My Non-Fungible Tingler That Is Literally This NFT" Because Of The Current Catastrophic Environmental And Ethical Impact" there are references to an earlier draft of the story that was never released because you ended up disagreeing with the message. Are there any other tinglers that never got finished and/or published, if you'd be willing to talk about any of them?

oh this is a VERY good question. the story of the NFT tingler is that when buckaroos were first talkin on nfts online and nobody really knew what they were, my first thoughts were just ‘oh this is interesting what the heck is this?’ this is my way with most CURRENT EVENTS. and i thought ‘this would be an interesting tingler, i suppose maybe i should make the tingler an ACTUAL nft’. this was in VERY early days so i did not really even understand what an nft was (neither did 99 percent of buckaroos yet honestly). so i looked into it just enough to actually MAKE a nft tingler that was a real nft and put it out. lasted for about thirty seconds before buckaroos were messaging saying ‘oh this is bad chuck you should look into what this is’ and i DID look into it and thought’ oh yeah this is terrible nevermind’. i took down the original and thought ‘well THIS is what art is all about. this is where i thrive in a world of moving living art that is in communication with itself’. so i dove into the research and actually started to understand NFTS and then i repurposed the story into a strongly anti-nft tingler and put that on out instead.

as far as OTHER tinglers that kind of move and breathe and live like this, in communication with the audience, GAY T-REX LAW FIRM is another very good example. that one i wrote early on and i think it was kind of in the model of something like fifty shade of grey, where issues of kink and consent and communication are not really handled well. i think at the time it came out the story was okay, but as time went on it always kind of bothered me and finally i thought ‘i love art that exists in the REAL WORLD and changes and evolves, so lets rewrite that story and fix some of these mistakes.’ honestly it is something i wish more artists would be open to. its okay to let something hold strong against a changing timeline, but it is also okay to explore what its like to take the notes that time gives us

-This one is about Chuck Tingle that exists in deeper layers of the Tingleverse that operate on tingler logic: what does the location inside his/your butt look like?

probably a nice mid-century modern home up in laurel canyon neighborhood of los angeles. kind of quiet and small like a cabin but also very cozy, like the kind of place where you would put on a crosby stills nash and young record on vinyl and gaze out into the woods for a while then walk down the hill for dinner at a little cafe where you spot some actor from a 60s tv show also having dinner in the corner booth. this basically sounds like the start of a tingler and in that tingler i will say the actor would be a bigfoot.

-OK this one is very self-indulgent but if you could help settle this frequent point of discussion I have with my wife- where do the following fit in the Tingleverse bigfoot/dinosaur/unicorn/living object(/human/does not apply?) taxonomy?

-a ghost of a regular human

-a regular human vampire

-a human/fish mermaid

-a sentient winged horse

-a sentient centipede large enough to wrap around a mountain several times (she is handsome)

alright lets trot through these. a GHOST is not one of the four tingle types so you can have a ghost racecar or a ghost unicorn or a ghost bigfoot. ghosts are outside of the four types and do not have a classification

a VAMPIRE is also outside of the four types. so you can have a vampire bigfoot or, of course, a vampire night bus. does not strictly fall into any of the four main categories

MERMAIDS are technically a long lost species of unicorn I DONT MAKE THE RULES I JUST EXPLAIN THEM. this makes the MERMOPED tingler a little confusing but i had to pick a category and that one went into living object. now that i mention it possibly the only tingler that is technically a double category of unicorn/living object.

WINGED HORSE is easy, thats a pegasus which is a species of unicorn just like a mermaid

a SENTIENT CENTIPEDE LARGE ENOUGH TO WRAP AROUND A MOUNTAIN is an ancient creature, therefore dinosaur tingler

-My other self-indulgent question: do you have a favorite bug? (Or second-favorite if you count Mothman as a bug)

i love finding spiders in the house and giving them a pet because they are doing a good job livin their lives doin their thing. close second would be a pretty ladybug

-Any thoughts on what tinglers will be like in 2025? Do you expect to be writing a lot of political tinglers again, like post-2016?

honestly i really do not like writing specifically political tinglers anymore, and the amount that i write has gradually dropped over time (i think ALL tinglers are political but in a different way). so honestly i think i will write a few political tinglers but not many. my hypothesis on this is that my HORROR NOVELS are very very political and so maybe i get a lot of these ideas out of my system that way now. when it comes to tinglers i just wanna explore my OWN mind and heart and butt more

THANK YOU for these wonderful questions and thank you for your tingler-a-day project it was so moving and powerful. what a treat it was an honor to be a part of something so beautiful. THIS PROVES LOVE IS REAL

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Something About Curly Hair and Any Character You Have in Mind

I've always had a fantasy of someone playing with my curls. Delicately pulling on them, like a kid pulling on a string. Playfully and adoringly watching the curl bounce back. Maybe the person could even praise it, saying it's cute, or beautiful, or mesmerising. Especially if they don't have curly hair.

A few minutes ago, my girl friend did it to me, exactly how I've always dreamed, even if inside I wanted to pull away, afraid that she would mess it up, I didn't, and she didn't, and even if she did, I wouldn't care, because I'm starved. So here's this little scenario that I finally felt courage and inspiration to write.

This was written based on my own experience having 123B hair, that has some volume on it (how do you even measure that??), with definition, so you must imagine it was very indulgent.

Also works for Readers of any race!!!! I just specify they have natural curls, didn't even mention the colour.

Gn!Reader and Gn!Character so you reaaaally can imagine whoever you want. But the character probably doesn't have curly hair, and learns to do different hairstyles on you (it's different doing it on yourself and then doing on other people, so you still can imagine any gender or appearance on them). Sex is mentioned. I'm tagging this with the first characters that come to my mind while writing this, just to make it easier.

Might edit this later because it's currently 3am and I'm sleepy as fuck

Divider

They love you. That means they love everything about you. And they love your hair.

They think the volume is sexy. Think clouds can't be softer. Think the way the light reflects on it is ethereal. Think the curls smells heavenly. Think the shape is unmatched.

When you move your hair, it's like being a kid and having a first crush again. Especially if the action causes the delicate smell of it travel through the air faster than they can blink, and they're swallowed in a fog of you.

When you sleep in the same bed together for the first time, and every other time after, they like to wake up before you. Just to admire your peacefull beauty for a while. Like the rest of the world doesn't exist. That's the best way to start a day.

Sometimes, boredom doesn't get to them because tracing curl patterns in your hair with their eyes is entertainment for a lifetime. Never before have they noticed that someone can have more than one curl texture, and how unique and perfect that mixture can look.

There's moments where they get distracted by you. You, taking their attention from something supposedly more important at that moment. Either you smell too nice, or look too good, or shine too bright. And they just can't seem to find anything more interesting than looking at you and your hair.

The first time they touched it, they were surprised by how soft it was, like cotton. Almost weightless, despite it's volume and length. Other people's hair surely doesn't feel like this. They spend so much time touching it the first time, that you have to ask them to stop, or you wouldn't have a nice hair day the next day. They looked like a kicked puppy, so you taught them to gently scrunch from the bottom.

They think bonnets are funny at first, but not in a bad way. They're not laughing at you. Mostly giggling, actually. They understand you may have needed some courage to look like this with them around. And it's like a tiny, almost nonexistent, relationship goal. To be intimate enough to feel confortable wearing a bonnet in front of your partner. And they love that you have no problem doing it.

They even buy silk sheets and pillows if it might help you. It might be morte confortable and not mess with your hair. And they understands sex while having curly hair might be frustrating at times.

Speaking of, they won't pull or mess with it unless you ask for it. They took very seriously your lesson from the first time. And if you have some instructions to give them on how to do it while causing less damage, then you certainly will lift a weight off some shoulders.

Oh, and the difference of how it looks when it's wet and then dry? They can't believe their eyes for a moment. Logic seems to escape. It feels impossible. But it isn't. And they're amazed. Almost jealous for not being as gorgeous as you. They understand why someone would be jealous of you.

Actually, they partially think others should be. If someone dares to utter you are less than stunning, then oh boy. God help them.

Any styling is great. And they're so in love with you, so focused on you, eyes solely on you, that they think no hairstyle looks as good on other people, as they look on you. Even if you hate it, he thinks it looks way better than it would have on anyone else.

Also, they learn some things. They learns to curl with their fingers, how to put on clips, how to do some braids, or buns, or pigtains, or anything you wear often. Even something you never did, but they think will make you ethereal, they will do it on you. They might not even teach you, just so you'll need them for something.

They feel part of their heart breaking if you straighten it. Sure it looks good. If it makes you happy, than they're happy. But it's far from a favorite look on you. It's not the natural you. And they love you. They might love a modified version of you, but only because they love you. Just the way you are.

And if you ever feel insecure, I assure you, they're gonna fix you right up.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

[minniesfiles]

{MINGYU} FIC RECOMMENDATIONS

ᯓ★ VOL. 1

(note; each volume has 15 fic recs)

[a] - angst

[f] - fluff

[s] - smut

❖ hits different — by @gyuswhore

Kim Mingyu was the first friend your brother had brought home for dinner. Fast forward a couple years, his toothy smile and pierced ears would wedge their way into a permanent place in your heart. Nail to a coffin, never to escape. Or; in which you get rejected by the only boy you've ever loved; a rejection you can't quite shake off. | 40k [a, f]

❖ creep — by @smileysuh

“If the roles were reversed - if you were a ghost bound to this apartment forever - you’re saying you wouldn’t watch me get naked every day?” He’s definitely got a point. As your eyes skim Mingyu's perfect form again, that tingle returns between your legs. There’s no reason for him to be as sexy as he is- murders aren’t the only shocking thing this man has under his belt and you can see that now. | 9.1k [s]

❖ untitled — by @tonicandjins

2.6k [a]

❖ one last time — by @tonicandjins

you receive an invitation for the worst day of your life. | 10.9k [a]

❖ right time — by @thedensworld

you both were too young when you get together, right person-wrong time. Two years after break up, destiny brought you two again. | ? [a]

❖ did you hear what the rumor said? — by @97linelover

Dating as Idols means, keeping it a secret. Rumors will spread, people will get hurt. What if this one Rumor brings you over the edge and you no longer can handle this Secret? | 1.4k [a, f]

❖ beautiful liar — by @onlymingyus

Kim Mingyu's life has always been complicated, but you just add another layer. At least he is a beautiful liar. | 25.6k [a, f]

❖ thirsty — by @cheolism

joshua sends you a photo of your boyfriend wearing a tank top while working out and you just can't help but thirst. | 5.2k [s]

❖ goodbye — by @tonicandjins

3.1k [a]

❖ evening glow — by @cheolhub

you're having a horrible, no good, very bad day and mingyu wants to do everything he can to make it better. | 4.5k [s, a, f]

❖ statistically speaking — by @gyuswhore

In all your years of academic endurance, you've never failed. A 100% success rate, despite you cutting it close at times. However, the line graph that is your life starts tanking somewhere around the time you began taking this hellsent Statistics in Psychological Research class. With a professor that wouldn't know his ass from his head, and an overworked, overenthusiastic, and overcaptivating TA, it couldn't possibly get any worse than this. However, statistically speaking,...it could. | 21k [s, a, f]

❖ mingyu is so mean when he’s horny — by @gyuspell

? [s]

❖ backburner — by @saythenametotheworld

There is a rule of thumb for casual relationships: do not fall in love with the other. Yet with Mingyu, it felt easier to watch the world burn than to stop yourself from falling for him. | 21k [f, a, s]

❖ still yours — by @number1mingyustan

When you're with him, the time around you ceases to exist. You've got your own little bubble that's immune to reality where he's just yours. | 5.1k [f, s]

❖ i can do it for you — by @hoshifighting

After years dealing with everything alone, you stumble upon an old wishbook from your past. And you jokingly writes down your ideal boyfriend, Mingyu. To your surprise, Mingyu magically appears in your couch. | 8k [s, f]