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love-belle · 3 months

Text

well, i'm still in love with you !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their fall-in-love-again era is them soft launching each other while driving their friends wild.

for when you're still in love with them and will be for forever. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

prequel - saw ur mom at the grocery store ·˚ ༘

warnings - language. suggestive jokes (???)

author's note - im so SORRY for not updating life is CRAZY rn like ???? so much has happened like im in LOVE im DONE with SCHOOL i have EXAMS SJSHSJSJKSKS im so sorry i hope u like this i love u all <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, lilymhe and 1,725,819 others

yourusername he's in my head so much i might as well just give him some

11,628 comments

username HOLD UP

username im shaking in my big girl boots rn what the Fuck

username y/n ?????

username SCREECHING

username roman empire or roman empire

username IM DYING OH MY GOD

landonorris just because you can type something doesn't mean you SHOULD

-> yourusername shut up u literally sprouted like an unwanted weed and not even the good kind

-> yourusername i am sorry that was mean

-> landonorris 😕

-> username someone keep these two away from each other before y/n makes lando cry 😭

username live love laugh y/n y/l/n

username i need cameras recording their whole vacation !!!!!!!!!

username this whole holiday will be so much more entertaining than 90% of all the tv shows out there 😭😭

username lord i pray that this is about charles

maxverstappen1 you didn't hear it from me but he's giggling

-> yourusername tell him to stop giggling and help me chase those seagulls away

-> landonorris LEAVE MY SEAGULLS ALONE

-> yourusername THEY ATE MY SANDWICH

username rip y/n's hater girl era u will be missed 😞☝️

username i know charles is thoroughly enjoying this like

username i will get over a lot of things in life but i will never get over lando and max joining the y/l/n-leclerc vacation simply because they do not trust charles to do the sensible thing

-> yourusername actually they're all dumb

-> maxverstappen1 excuse you

-> yourusername u called grey "dark white"

-> maxverstappen1 I PAID TO KEEP QUIET

-> yourusername blocking out the haters 🫸🙄🫷

username forever entertained by this group they never disappoint

username need me a max and lando to get me a bf or whatever 🙄🙄🙄

username waiting for charles to come here and say some stupid shit before going on with my day !!!!

charles_leclerc i bet u think about me

-> yourusername nah bc no way ferrari can make u THIS delusional what's the cause

-> yourusername i am sorry i was told that i cannot say shit about ferrari clown private limited whatever corporation

-> username please never change

charles_leclerc i will make u pasta !!!!!!!!

-> yourusername no thank u i saw what happened to arthur

-> charles_leclerc THAT WAS NOT MY FAULT THE PASTA WAS NOT GOOD

-> yourusername skill issue

charles_leclerc where r u

-> yourusername why r u typing like that

-> charles_leclerc lando said it's cool

-> yourusername lando thinks birds don't have feet don't believe him

-> landonorris why am i catching strays

username WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE FACT THAT CHARLES LIED TO GET MAX AND LANDO ON VACATION 😭😭

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by carlossainz55, pierregasly, landonorris and 2,167,926 others

charles_leclerc we'd still worship this love

12,628 comments

username NAH WHO IS THIS MAN

username OH ??????

username false god lyrics imma die 🤣🤣🤣

username y/n effect is so real

username PLEASE NOT CHARLES SOFT LAUNCHING HIS EX 😭😭😭

-> username y'all put some respect on my girl's name 😭

-> yourusername i am no one's ex i will sue u for defamation

-> charles_leclerc for legal reasons she's JOKING

-> yourusername how do U know that tf

-> username i missed this

username hshshdjssjdjsjjsajjn;;;;;;;;bwywuuaj;...

username crying this is everything i've prayed for

username no one's mentioning the fact that charles wasn't even supposed to go on the vacation 😭😭😭

-> landonorris he booked his tickets and acted like it was a mistake

-> charles_leclerc you're a mistake

-> username and THAT'S how i know y/n and charles are back together 🤞🤞🤞

username i need a documentary on this vacation u don't GET it

username max and lando we trust u

maxverstappen1 you just pushed your love in water

-> charles_leclerc she told me i looked like tweety from looney toons

-> maxverstappen1 well

username crying i love every second of this

username i need to study this man's brain under a microscope like

-> username his thought process is just so UNIQUE

username i need them to confirm their relationship so i can breathe a sigh of relief thank u

username need me a man who posts like this

yourusername told u taylor swift songs slap

-> charles_leclerc highkey

yourusername i'm the most hilarious person ever idk why ur mad

-> charles_leclerc you called me tweety

-> yourusername hilarious

-> charles_leclerc my lover's got humour

-> yourusername OMGGGGG

yourusername we might just get away with this

-> charles_leclerc i told you, if you commit murder i will NOT be an accomplice

-> yourusername those are lyrics but fuck u too i guess

username i prayed for times like this 🤞🤞

≡;- ꒰ °instagram stories ꒱

charles_leclerc added to their instagram stories

≡;- ꒰ °twitter ꒱

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, carmenmmundt and 1,972,628 others

yourusername well i'm still in love with u 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄 (❤️)

tagged charles_leclerc

comments are disabled for this post

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, pierregasly and 2,126,891 others

charles_leclerc 2 out of 262819 photos where she stole my phone and the one (1) photo with me in it like okaaaaaaaaaay (🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯💯💯💯🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️)

tagged yourusername

12,728 comments

username NAHHH WHO TAUGHT HIM HOW TO TYPE LIKE THAT

username PLEASE OMG

username andddddddd we're 🔙 to having charles have a breakdown every single time y/n (HIS GIRLFRIEND) interacts with him

username god heard my prayers

username why do i have a feeling lando and max went EXTREME

-> yourusername if u call pushing us both off the yacht and not letting us back on until we said "hiiiiii" civilly to each other extreme, then yes. they were EXTREME.

-> charles_leclerc still mad about it. i said "hiiiii 😍😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰🥰😘😘😘😘" and you said "hi 😐😐😐😐."

-> yourusername sorry i was too busy finding ways to poison u then ❤️❤️❤️ im good and better now ❤️❤️❤️ (police and officials LOOK AWAY)

-> username netflix needs to leave dts and document THIS

username someone should write a book on this vacation and it should be max ☝️☝️☝️

username WAR IS OVERRRRR

username they're BACK god bless

username the way i KNOW charles is thanking max and lando on his knees like homeboy would be stuck without them fr

-> danielricciardo excuse you i was the mastermind

-> landonorris you literally did nothing except sit on ft for hours and yell at us.

-> danielricciardo tell that to all those thank you texts (money) charles sent me

-> landonorris YOU TOLD ME NO ONE WILL BE GETTING PAID charles_leclerc

-> charles_leclerc i sent him $1 because heidi asked me to

-> heidiberger_ he threatened to fly out to italy i did everyone a favour

username the y/n effect is coming back with full throttle like yeaaaaaaaaah

username i need a trilogy on this vacation like i need EVERYTHING

username the way i KNOW both of their families just rejoiced like they were going through it 😭😭😭

username everyday i wake up and thank the lord and heavens for daniel ricciardo, max verstappen and lando norris

yourusername i look so good wtfff

-> charles_leclerc yes you do 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

yourusername bébé ( baby )

-> charles_leclerc mon ange ( my angel )

yourusername soulmates 4 sure

-> charles_leclerc 👍

-> username lord i am not your strongest soldier

-> username why is he like this 😭😭😭

yourusername lowk missed taking 26271727 selfies on ur phone

-> charles_leclerc missed seeing your pretty face every time i opened my gallery 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

-> username y/n never leave him again please

-> username my man's TRAUMATISED

#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 imagines #social media au #fake instagram imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc instagram au #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x y/n

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talkdutchtome · 9 months

Text

You Should Have Said No Chapter Three- Death By A Thousand Cuts

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / pierre gasly x reader )

summary . . . when your fiancé cheats on you, you strike up an unusual friendship with one of his closest friends, who just so happens to have had a crush on you since he set eyes on you. chaos ensues.

inspired by the works of miss taylor swift )

genre . . . angst )

song . . .death by a thousand cuts)

warning . . . cheating, mental illness, angst, eventual smut, poorly translated french and dutch, swearing, mention of parent loss, emotionally abusive parent, slight social media au, kendall jenner as fc (potentially more i’ll add as i go along)

series masterlist . . . available here )

Once you had landed in Barcelona, you were greeted by an ample about of photographers and reporters taking photos of the three drivers. They knew who you were, you had accompanied Pierre to countless races, but you could tell they did not expect you to follow Max, Lando and Daniel out of the private jet, their eyes darting to the door to see if Pierre was going to follow you out; when they realized that Pierre did not accompany you, the clicks from their cameras became more intense. You knew the girlfriend of a driver being caught leaving a private plane with three of his rivals was a big story and the tabloids would go crazy for it. Thinking of Pierre seeing the photos made you cringe inwardly, almost feeling guilty for your budding friendship with Max. The rational side of your brain tried to shake that thought away, you were only friends with Max, even if it was anything else; you no longer owed anything to Pierre. Even still, you still felt slightly uncomfortable so you quickly thanked Max for his continued help and support before saying goodbye and walking towards the studio where you would be working that day. You weren’t sure of your full schedule for the day, but you were aware that the first session would be with the drivers from Williams and Haas. Most photography sessions with the drivers were usually done in groups of two teams, simply so the whole grid could be done as quickly as possible. Realistically you didn’t particularly want to be working, you still felt weak from the events of the weekend; but you knew that sitting around and wallowing in sadness wasn’t going to help anything, so you took a deep breath to compose yourself before taking the last sip of the Redbull Max gave you on the plane before beginning to get to work.

Max’s POV

Max watched you walk away from the group, unable to take his eyes away from you until you were no longer in his line of sight. Hearing laughter come from his two friends he looked back at them. “Mate what is happening to you?” he heard Daniel ask before Lando chirped in too. “Yeah, I mean, going to her house and cooking her dinner, inviting her in your jet, that is not the Max I know.” He was about to respond until he caught sight of Pierre walking towards them, looking like a man on a mission. Max was slightly thankful for this interruption; he truly had no answer for his friends’ questions after all. But mostly he was nervous as to what Pierre wanted to talk to him about. He wasn’t sure if Pierre was aware that it was him who told you what happened in the club, although once he saw the facial expression Pierre wore in his face, he was pretty much sure that he did know.

“So do you want to tell me which one of you told Y/N what happened with Sophia?” He addressed Max and Lando, knowing that they were the only people where there who knew what happened.

“Look mate I don’t think-” Lando started, trying to diffuse the situation but he was interrupted by Max.

“Yeah it was me, she deserved to know” he spoke up, having little patience for the French man stood Infront of him seething.

“And why the fuck do you think you know what she deserves. I know you’ve always had a crush on her, but I never knew you would stoop so low that you would try to sabotage my relationship. She’s my fucking fiancée man.” Pierre’s words made Max unbelievably angry, he didn’t want to continue this pointless conversation and he didn’t want to dignify Pierre’s ridiculous words with a response, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Yeah, and how exactly telling her that you slept with someone sabotaging your relationship, I’m pretty sure you there one that did the sabotaging mate.” Pierre laughed, reaching into his bag for something.

“Oh if that’s all you did then I guess this isn’t your jacket I found at my house today mate.” He spoke with venom in his voice, throwing Max’s Redbull jacket at him.

Max gulped, realising that he must have left it when he came round to see you, his actions were innocent, but they certainly didn’t seem that way to Pierre.

“Did you fuck my girl Verstappen?” Pierre asked with a look that would have had Max six feed under if looks could kill. Max was dumbfounded, Lando’s and Daniel’s jaws dropped to the floor in shock. “What no of course I didn-“ he started to reply, until Pierre’s fist connected with his face. Without even thinking Max immediately swung back at Pierre and went in for a second hit until Lando and Daniel got in between them, stopping them from hurting each other any further.

“Go fuck yourself Max. She’s mine.” Pierre called out, walking away as soon as he got out of Lando’s grip. Max opened his mouth to respond but Daniel pulled him away, encouraging him to walk away from this conversation.

The three drivers arrived in Max’s drivers room, looking in the mirror he noticed the split lip he had thanks to Pierre, he cursed him, knowing that he had media duties later, dreading the questions he’d get.

“Look Max you nee-“ Daniel started to speak making Max roll his eyes, Daniel was always trying to give words of wisdom, taking the fact that he was older than a lot of the grid very seriously.

“Seriously Daniel not now” Max dismissed Daniel, not wanting to be taught a life lesson right now.

“No Max I think you need to hear this. I know you like Y/N, you always have. But now is not the time to try anything. She is a very pretty girl, I get why you would want to but there is about a billion reasons why you shouldn’t, the drama that it would cause with Pierre for a start but most importantly, it’s not what she needs right now. That woman has just found out that the person she loved had sex with someone else, she is broken. She does not need anymore completely avoidable drama all because you want to shoot your shot. I love you man, but you can’t put her in that position” Daniel finished, looking at Max, trying to gauge if he had pissed him off with what he said. He usually prefers to stay out of the heavier topics, more than anything Daniel is an extremely positive person who would much rather make someone smile than serve them some harsh truths. Max knew this so he knew that Daniel was being completely serious.

“I do like her, I think she’s beautiful and funny and well.. she’s like a shot of espresso; she makes me feel alive, she makes my heart race. And I also think she deserves someone much better than Pierre, I always have thought that even before all this” he spoke as his friends looked at him with wide eyes, not expecting words like that to come out of Max’s mouth. He took a shaky breath before continuing.

“But all of that isn’t why I’m doing what I’m doing, I actually agree with you Daniel; my love is the last thing she needs right now. But what she does need is a friend. Think about it who do you see her spend time with around here other than Pierre? Charles, Charles’ girlfriend and Carlos, that’s who, What side do you think they’re going to take? She gave up her job to follow Pierre around and now he’s left her with no one by her side. So I’m going to be there for her, I’m going to be her friend. You both know what I went through with Kelly the way she left, if I didn’t have you guys I would have gone insane.”

Daniel and Lando shared a knowing look, before Daniel looked at Max, before reaching up and ruffling his hair; proud of his friends new found maturity.

Your POV

Work was hard, and long. You were able to put a brave face, even when Alex Albon asked you how Pierre’s celebration went with a wink. You knew he didn’t mean anything by it, he was a lovely guy and was just trying to have a joke with you; that didn’t make it hurt any less of course. Looking down at your schedule, you feel your stomach sink as you read the two teams you’re supposed to be shooting now. Redbull and Alpine. Closing your eyes, you fought hard to keep your lunch down; you really didn’t want to see Pierre right now, and you certainly didn’t want to see him with Max. Max’s actions and his niceness towards you confused you, he never really showed you any attention before, with most of the interactions you two have had with each other being in group conversations. To be honest, you had even thought on the occasions you did spend with each other that he didn’t actually like you, there had been a few situations where you noticed that if you were stood or sat too close to him he would move away, times where you would make a joke to the group and he would just look at you in a funny way. You tried, and failed, to steady your breath. Looking at the watch on your left hand, the watch that Pierre gave you when you got job with formula one. The clock hit 4, the time the drivers were due to walk through the door. Like clockwork, Max Verstappen and Sergio Perez walked through the door. Your eyes fell to Max, immediately feeling your racing heartbeat calm down, you smiled to yourself happy to see him. That shocked you, not expecting seeing him to make you feel that way. Your smile dropped when your eyes focused in on his lips, noticing it was split and bleeding. You had no reason to think so, but you just knew Pierre had something to do with it. That suspicion was confirmed when he and Esteban walked in the room and your eyes immediately saw that your fiancé had a black eye, or ex-fiancé, you corrected your own train of thought. The tension on the room was unbearable, nobody said a word. Checo and Esteban didn’t fully understand what was happening in the room but they were able to put some pieces together, the matching war wounds, both the ones on their faces as well as the matching bruised knuckles they shared; alongside the uncomfortable silence in the room, it was clear something happened between the former teammates.

The awkward silence sat for a few moments longer, nobody wanting to be the one to start speaking. That was until your boss Rebecca walked in.

“Okay people, we’re going to start with Max and Checo, we just need a few photo of you two together and then we’ll move on Pierre and Est-“ her instructions stopped when she saw the marks on the two men’s faces.

“Okay what the hell do you people think you’re playing at you both knew this was scheduled for today and you show up looking like-“ she began her rant, cursing out both men but you couldn’t hear what she was saying, instead you were too focused on Max’s lips. It looked sore you thought to yourself, almost trying to excuse why you found yourself unable to look away; although just for a second you couldn’t help to thinkable how soft they looked despite the sore, how kissable and plump they looked. You visibly shook your head, almost like you were physically trying to shake that thought out of your head, you had no right to be thinking thoughts you like that. You chalked it up to your brain still being fuzzy from the last few days of hell you had just endured and turned to face Rebecca, looking for instructions on what was going to happen now.

“Right well obviously Y/N can’t take photos of you looking like this so you can all leave and ill try and find time to reschedule it. I will be speaking to both of your team principals as this is just simply not acceptable. Y/N, that was the last shoot of the day so you can head off.” You winced at her tone, clearly very pissed off before nodding and leaving. You walked towards your office for the weekend, looking for somewhere safe before your equipment before you headed back to the hotel room.

“Mon chéri, can we speak?” you heard Pierre’s voice speak from behind you. You immediately tensed up, really not wanting to speak to him. Despite that, you gently nodded, knowing that you can’t live in this limbo forever.

“What is going on with you and Max?” he asked walking closer towards you. You scoffed at him. Unbelievable, you thought to yourself, he didn’t follow you into your office to apologize or see how you were doing after the worst few days of your life, he just wanted to talk about Max.

“Don’t make that noise at me Y/N, I know somethings going on so tell me. Are you fucking him?”

You saw red, you were enraged that after all he had put you through, he had the audacity to talk like you were the one who cheated on him. He was still walking closer towards you, he didn’t stop until there was a gap of only a few centimetres between your two bodies.

“Okay Pierre, first thing- no I am not fucking him, he has been a friend to me, you know since you broke my fucking hear, and secondly- if I was it would be none of your damn business; you lost the right to have an opinion on what, or for a matter of fact who I do, when you slept with a random women in a club bathroom.” You fumed at him, taking your ring off and pressing it into his hand.

“We’re through Pierre.” You told him but he didn’t say a word, instead he brought his hand up to your chin, pulling you closer to him before crashing his lips onto yours. You wanted to push him off you but you didn’t, you let him kiss you and you kissed him back. Your lips fit together like two puzzle pieces. Being in his arms again, feeling his lips against yours felt like heaven. You didn’t know how touch starved you were until he picked you up and your legs wrapped around his legs in an instant. Everything that had happened, everything Pierre had put you through was gone all you could think about was you and him and you both together here and now. His hands reached to your desk and cleared space to sit you down, his lips coming down to your neck causing a small moan to escape from your lips. You put your hands to the zip of his drivers suit, ready to pull it down to, desperate for him to keep touching you. Before you could do anything you heard your phone ring and it was almost you woke up from a trance. You pushed Pierre off of you, shaking your head. Not sure if you hated Pierre or yourself more from that encounter, you began to speak.

“That was a mistake Pierre. I don’t want anything to do with you. Please leave me alone we are done”

Pierre looked like he was about to cry but he did what he asked, walking out of your office without looking back at you once. Your phone rang again and you reached down to answer it, too flustered with you encounter with Pierre to even check who was phoning you.

“Hey bitch, where the hell are ya?” you heard a very familiar voice through the speakers. Lili. Your best friend since before you even knew Pierre. You didn’t very often get to speak to her, she moved to the UK a few years ago and you had only seen her a few times since then due to both of your busy schedules.

“So excited to hear from me you’re speechless huh? Look I was just phoning because I’m at the airport with a bottle of tequila and I need to know what hotel you’re staying at so I can order my uber.”

“Wait Lila? What?” you questioned genuinely confused.

“Charles called me, he told me what happened and that I needed to get here as soon as possible, so I caught the first plane I could.” You could have cried, there was no one in the world you wanted to speak

“I cannot believe he did that. What a fucking asshole.” Lila sat on your hotel room floor with you listening to you tell her the whole story, starting from the club in Monaco and ending with the encounter you had with Pierre. Half a bottle of tequila had been consumed between the two of you and Taylor Swift played though the speakers of Lilas phone, she knew exactly what you needed.

“This Max seems like a good guy though. You should have a go on him, show Pierre what he’s missing.” You laughed at her proposition, too drunk already to explain to her why that would be an awful idea. Lila began speaking about something else but you were too focused on the song that had just come on.

“I get drunk, but it's not enough

’Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby

I look through the windows of this love

Even though we boarded them up

Chandelier's still flickering here

'Cause I can’t pretend it's okay when it's not”

“Y/N, are you okay? Really though?” Lila asked, pulling you out of your Taylor Swift induced trance. You lay your head on her shoulder, half trying to steady you head, half just wanting to be close to your friend. You smiled, knowing the exact answer to her question.

“I'll be alright, it's just a thousand cuts.”

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

Notes- I just wanted to thank everyone who’s been showing this story some love. I’ve truly been floored with the reception that this has received so far. I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as you did the others.

ALSO- I'm currently unsure what kind of format this story is going to go down. I personally prefer longer, slow burn fics but I’m not sure if I should go down that way or if people would prefer it to be a bit shorter. Let me know what you think!

Tag list -

@hiraethrhapsody @ironmaiden1313 @dudenhaaa27 @aundercover @dearlovelys @bicchaan @eugene-emt-roe @faithm120601 @ruleroftheuniverse @idkiwantchocolatee @simxican @reidsworld @icarus-nex @barnestatic @amalialeclerc @stargaryenx

#f1 x reader #f1 smut #max verstappen #lando norris #formula 1 #max verstappen smut #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #max verstappen x reader #charles lecrelc #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x oc #max verstappen x oc #max verstappen x y/n #f1 fanfic #fanfic #f1 imagine

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candycandy00 · 7 months

Text

Little Miss Nobody Part 3 - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic

You’re a weak, lowly sorcerer who barely qualifies as an assistant, but you get the opportunity to work on a mission that includes THE Gojo Satoru. Unbeknownst to you, he finds you incredibly attractive despite privately looking down on you as a nobody. On the last night of the mission, he invites you to his hotel room.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Any feedback or comments whatsoever is greatly appreciated! Thank you to @doumadono for the name Mystigram!

Smut. 18+. Gojo x short/thick/curvy fem Reader. Rough sex, oral sex (69), implied bondage/use of toys, mention of Gojo being bisexual. Just pretend the Shibuya Incident never happened!

You allowed yourself to grieve for one week. You took time off from work and spent those days crying, yelling at no one about how much of an asshole Gojo was, and eating ice cream from the carton to numb your pain. Once the week was over, you cleaned up, went back to work, and returned to your normal daily life.

It still hurt to think about him, and despite your best efforts not to, you did still have the occasional intrusive thought. Sometimes you wondered if he regretted anything he said to you, or if he simply regretted ever meeting you. Sometimes you wondered what kind of mission he might be on and who was in his hotel room with him. Sometimes you dreamed about him, dreamed of his hands gripping your hips, his cock rough and powerful between your thighs.

In a weak moment you decided to check his page on Mystigram. A few particularly tech savvy sorcerers had made a social media site just for Jujutsu sorcerers. It began as a way for sorcerers to stay connected to their coworkers and share information, but it had grown to be something used for networking, planning social outings, and getting to know sorcerers from different branches.

You’d looked at Gojo’s page before of course, back before you met him, when you were just a curious fan. He mostly shared memes about Jujutsu society, pictures from the places he’d traveled for work, and photos of the various treats and desserts he discovered at different restaurants and shops. There were occasional selfies, almost always with his sunglasses rather than his blindfold, and a few photos of him with friends. He often had his arms casually thrown around Ieiri Shoko and Nanami Kento, with both of them generally looking annoyed.

You scrolled through his page, feeling desperate and pathetic as you searched for any sign that he felt anything at all about what happened between you. Even him sharing a vague, sort of sad quote or meme would have satisfied you. There was a four day period immediately following your last encounter where he didn’t post anything at all, but he could have simply been busy with work.

One of his most recent posts was a selfie of him pulling down his shades and looking at the camera with gorgeous, bedroom eyes. It was the first one you’d seen with his eyes clearly visible, and it made you ache in more ways than one. The caption read, “The real reason I keep my eyes covered is to keep the whole world from instantly falling in love with me!” What a Gojo thing to say.

His students had responded with laughing emojis (and in a couple of cases, barfing emojis). Ieiri Shoko commented with only a gif of a woman dramatically rolling her eyes. Nanami Kento commented with one word: “Disgusting.” You found the interactions charming, but also felt sad when you realized you’d never be a part of that group, a part of Gojo’s life. You’d never be able to casually talk and joke with him like the others did.

Just once, during a night when you couldn’t sleep, you actually wondered if you should have just let him keep using you for sex. You thought about the “weekend of debauchery” he’d mentioned and imagined what it would have been like. Did he really want to tie you up in his basement? And why did the thought of that make you wet?

You finally fell asleep right after thinking these things, and had a nightmare in which he kept telling you how unworthy you were to be his girlfriend, as he walked off with a glamorous, powerful woman on his arm.

When you awoke, you had renewed resolve that you made the right decision to walk away from him.

Nearly a month after your second time sleeping with him, you crossed paths with him on the street. He was wearing his blindfold, but he pulled it down as he stopped in front of you and asked how you were doing.

You wished he hadn’t. You didn’t want to see his eyes. You gave a vague, cordial reply and continued walking down the street, taking deep and steady breaths to keep yourself from bursting into tears until you could get far enough down the street to dart into a cafe. You bought a coffee just for an excuse to be there, but left it untouched on the counter and instead rushed into the restroom to cry in private.

Seeing him hurt. Hearing his voice hurt. The fact that he didn’t seem bothered at all, that he had absolutely no hesitation in speaking to you, as if you were just friendly acquaintances, hurt. Deeply. But you pulled yourself together, dried your eyes, and walked out of the cafe with your head up.

It would take time to fully heal, as all wounds to the heart did.

Three weeks later, you met a grade one sorcerer on a mission who asked you to have dinner with him sometime. His name was Haruto, and he was kind to you. Handsome in a completely different way than Gojo, he was respected and liked among the assistants for his down to earth attitude. You accepted the dinner invite, and soon after, the two of you began dating.

You liked him, but so far you hadn’t fallen in love with him. You kept waiting to feel that burning passion you felt for Gojo, that ache to be in his arms, but it hadn’t happened yet. Still, a slow burn romance might be a better fit for you, and you enjoyed Haruto’s company enough to date him a while longer and decide how you felt. It was clear that he wanted to be intimate with you, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do that yet, not so soon after your experience with Gojo. But Haruto was patient, never pressuring you.

As time passed by and the season changed from autumn to winter, you thought less and less about Gojo.

****************

Gojo wasn’t dealing with the fallout from his last hookup with Little Miss Nobody very well. He’d went through several different reactions, from anger at her for saying the things she said to guilt for saying the things he said to her. At first he tried to convince himself that he’d done nothing wrong. He’d been honest with her about the sort of relationship they could have. His only mistake was in telling her that after fucking her again.

Just like before, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Despite being busier than ever with missions and his teaching job, his mind kept wandering to her. He worried she would do something reckless on a mission. She wasn’t a fighter, but she clearly wouldn’t hesitate to endanger herself to save someone. He admired the courage that took, but he found himself wishing she would just be a coward from now on. She didn’t have the strength to back up that desire to protect.

Sometimes he laid awake at night, jacking off while remembering their encounters. It was almost too easy to get off, picturing her with her hands tied behind her back, her face pressed into the pillows. Every time he wore his blindfold, he remembered how it had looked around her wrists.

Then, he saw her on the street one day. He spotted her from across the road, but she hadn’t noticed him yet. She looked like every wet dream he’d ever had, jeans tight over her perfect ass, a form-fitting sweater with a cutout right over her ample cleavage. She looked soft and squeezable. Pliable. His first thought was that he wanted to pull her into his arms and just hold her. His second was that he wanted to hear her voice.

He crossed the road and approached her, trying to act as casual as possible. When she looked at him, there was an instant where she looked stunned, but she quickly covered that up with a pleasant smile. He pulled his blindfold down and said, “Hey, how’ve you been?”

It was petty of him, he knew, but he knew she liked his eyes. He wanted her to see them again, perhaps to make her want him again. There were plenty of hotels in the area and-

“I’ve been good,” she said, her face frozen in that same mild expression. “Thank you for asking.”

And then she was gone, walking away quickly and then going into a cafe down the street. He thought briefly of following her, trying to talk to her again, but abandoned the idea. She clearly didn’t want to talk to him, and he wouldn’t press her into a situation that upset her.

He’d left feeling frustrated, in several different ways. Finally, he grew desperate enough to talk to his friend about what was going on. But when he’d gone to Shoko for advice, she had been blunt with him as usual.

“Are you a fucking moron?”

He gaped at her. “Huh?!”

Shoko took a drag of her cigarette and regarded him with a withering stare. “You find a girl who’s sweet, brave, laughs at your shitty jokes, who fucking bakes, and likes it rough? And you manage to screw it up? You’re hopeless.”

Gojo was sitting on a bench in the outdoor area of the high school, near some vending machines. He leaned back, slapping his forehead as Shoko stood beside him. “I don’t know where I screwed up,” he said, “I just told her the truth.”

“You told her she wasn’t good enough for you immediately after fucking her. Do you think anyone wants to hear that?”

He glanced up at his friend. “I didn’t say that to her.”

Shoko met his eyes. “Did you deny it?”

He sat there silently for a moment, thinking. “I didn’t know how to respond to that,” he finally said. “I don’t think she’s not good enough for me. If anything, she’s way too good.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

“It’s not about her as a person, or even me as a person. Maybe I’m being a narcissistic asshole. But I feel like I should be with someone closer to my level in terms of status, you know?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t know.”

Gojo sighed. “I just… can’t imagine myself with an assistant who can barely use cursed energy. She’s weak. She’s not from a sorcerer family…”

“Geto wasn’t from a sorcerer family,” Shoko pointed out. “That didn’t seem to bother you.”

Gojo looked at her suddenly. Shoko rarely mentioned their departed friend. “Suguru was strong. At one point as strong as me,” he replied.

“So?” Shoko asked. “A lot of people would call me weak. I sure as hell can’t fight.”

He stared at her, realizing she was making excellent points. Why did it matter what someone’s status was? He never cared about status when it came to picking friends, so why care now? Maybe he had to face the fact that he’d gotten too full of himself over the years. He’d started looking down on those who were weak within Jujutsu society, even if he felt no ill will toward them.

He looked at Shoko, who was a precious friend, and couldn’t imagine looking down on her, even though she was exponentially weaker than him. Then he remembered Little Miss Nobody’s crying face, and he realized how monumentally stupid he’d been.

“I seriously fucked up, didn’t I?”

Shoko exhaled, smoke drifting around her face. “Sure did.”

He leaned forward on the bench, resting his hands on his thighs. “Any ideas on how to fix this?”

“For starters, you better be damn sure of what you want,” she told him. “I’m serious, Gojo. Don’t toy with her again. Don’t contact her, don’t stir up her feelings, and for God’s sake don’t fuck her unless you’re sure you want to start something serious with her.”

Gojo nodded. “I’m sure.” He’d never felt more certain of anything. He saw her face everywhere he looked. He heard her voice in his dreams. He hadn’t even been able to fuck anyone else since her. He’d tried once and couldn’t finish, and boy was that embarrassing.

“Then call her,” Shoko said. “Apologize, tell her you were wrong.”

“I don’t have her number,” Gojo said, remembering with a small degree of shame how she’d shyly offered it to him after their first time together and how he’d rejected it.

“We can probably find it,” Shoko told him, digging into the pocket of her white coat for her cell phone. “I have a couple of friends who work at her branch.”

Gojo perked up, listening as Shoko called someone and made a bit of small talk before asking if they knew Little Miss Nobody. Shoko gave him a thumbs up, and asked the person to text the number over. Then he heard Shoko say, “Oh, she is? Right now?”

After the call ended, Shoko said, “They’re sending the number over but they said she’s in Tokyo right now. She’s supposedly meeting some friends for drinks at that bar for sorcerers in Ikebukuro.”

Gojo stood up. This was the perfect opportunity. He could talk to her in person, apologize properly and see if this could be fixed. He knew exactly where the bar was, having gone there to hang out with Shoko and Utahime just one week prior. He thanked Shoko for her help and hurried over to the bar.

It wasn’t very crowded yet when Gojo arrived. It was late afternoon, and customers wouldn’t start pouring in until at least seven. He scanned the room for her when he first walked in, and quickly spotted her sitting amongst several other sorcerers in a corner booth. She was smiling, and he was glad to see her happy.

He took a seat at the bar and ordered a soda, then tried to keep from attracting any attention. It didn’t happen all the time, but occasionally people recognized him and acted like they’d seen a celebrity. He supposed he was the closest thing Jujutsu society had to a celebrity, and while he usually found it flattering to be approached in that way, today he hoped no one noticed him. He planned to wait for her to go to the rest room or even to the bar. He didn’t want to approach her when she was surrounded by people.

So he sat, and waited, and watched. After several minutes, he noticed that the man sitting to her right was a little too handsy with her. The man kept touching her arm and subtly leaning closer to her. Gojo didn’t like that, but she didn’t seem to mind. She was a little naive about things like that, so maybe she didn’t even notice.

But the more he watched and listened, the more a knot tied itself together in his stomach. She was also leaning toward the man, giggling at something he said, playfully slapping his arm. Then, the man threw his arm around her, and she smiled, doing nothing to push it away.

The realization hit Gojo like a punch to the face. She was with this man, romantically. Gojo was too late. He’d spent too much time being an egotistical jackass, and now she’d moved on. He couldn’t blame her. She had the right to pursue happiness with someone else. But where did that leave him? He sighed and lowered his head. For the first time in his life he considered trying to get drunk.

He heard chattering from her table and glanced over. Little Miss Nobody, as well as the rest of the women in the group, were leaving together. Something about going to see a movie together. Gojo moved to the other side of the bar before they got near, making sure not to be seen. He watched her walk out, and it felt like she was stomping on his heart with each step she took.

The thought occurred to him that he could potentially take her away from the man. If Gojo talked to her, maybe she’d decide she liked him more. But should he do that? She seemed happy. What right did he have to burst back into her life and possibly screw it up?

While he sat there, deep in thought, he almost didn’t notice the man she’d been with coming to sit at the bar, just a few seats down. But he did notice, and he couldn’t help paying attention to him.

The man’s friend, the only other man who’d been at the table, sat down next to him.

“Any luck yet?” the friend asked.

The man shook his head and took a drink from his glass. “Nope. She’s still holding out. I think she’s hung up on some ex boyfriend or something, but she won’t say it.”

Gojo’s ears felt like they were on fire. His full attention was now on this conversation, but he sipped his Coke and pretended not to be listening.

The friend laughed. “Sucks to be you, dude. You score a hot girlfriend and can’t even fuck her.”

The man laughed too. “I’ll wear her down. She’ll be sucking my dick soon enough.”

Gojo’s hand gripped the glass so hard, he had to force himself to calm down to avoid shattering it.

Then the friend said something else, and Gojo felt his skin prickling with rage.

“Don’t forget to record it when you finally get her naked. You promised you’d show off the goods.”

The man nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ve got cameras hid around my bedroom already. She doesn’t have a clue.”

“Good,” the friend replied, “cause I’ve been dying to see those tits for months.”

They both laughed, and Gojo stood up from his seat. He walked the few steps over to the two men and stood looming over them. He was wearing sunglasses instead of his blindfold, but he was still recognizable to most people who noticed him. The man she’d been with gaped up at him. “Gojo?”

Gojo grinned widely. “I couldn’t help but overhear you guys,” he said in a friendly tone. “Can you share those recordings with me when you make them?”

The men glanced at each other, looking like students who’d been caught smoking by a teacher who then asked for a cigarette.

“You… want me to send you recordings? Of my girlfriend?”

Gojo’s grin was probably becoming more frightening as the moments passed. “Well you’re sharing them with your buddy, right? What’s one more?”

The man shrugged, still looking a little uneasy. “Sure, why not? Give me your number.”

Gojo kept staring at him. “So she has no idea you plan to do this?”

The man must have mistaken Gojo’s slightly unhinged expression for perversion. He laughed and said, “She’s clueless. Totally naive. Wait till you see her! Huge tits, fat ass, cute face. She’d be a perfect porn star.”

The friend chuckled and added, “Hell, I guess she will be after this. We could make a fortune selling the videos!”

That was enough. That was all Gojo could bear to listen to. He’d let the guy dig a big enough hole for himself. “Call her,” he said in a low voice, and both men looked at him with confusion.

“What?”

Gojo’s smile was gone. He pulled off his shades and glared at the man. “Call her. Tell her you need to see her in private. It’s urgent.”

The man didn’t move, he just stared up at Gojo as if he’d sprouted another head.

Gojo leaned down. “I think she has the right to know about this, don’t you?”

The man looked positively horrified. A bead of sweat ran down his face. “You want me to tell her? I can’t do that! She’ll-“

Gojo looked at the man the way he would look at a curse that had just attacked him, and the man’s words died in his throat. Gojo put one hand on the man’s shoulder. “I said call her. Right fucking now.”

The man’s fingers were trembling as he pulled his phone from his pocket. As he began dialing, Gojo pointed at the friend. “And you, if you ever so much as glance at her again, I’ll rip your eyeballs out of your fucking head.”

****************

You were standing in line with three of your friends to buy tickets for a movie when one of them asked how things were going with Haruto.

“Okay I guess,” you answered. “I’m still not sure how I feel about him. I like him, but I don’t think I’m in love with him.”

Your friend Sumi smiled reassuringly. “Give it a little more time. You guys are still getting to know each other.”

Aiko, another friend that you had been on many missions with, sighed and patted your back. “You’re still holding out for Gojo Satoru, aren’t you?”

Sumi and the third friend Keiko looked surprised, and you instantly reddened. “Huh? Gojo? What do you mean?”

Sumi asked, looking from Aiko to you.

“They hooked up,” Aiko said, “twice.”

You looked at her with wide eyes. You’d never told her about that. “How did you know?”

She grinned. “Actually I just suspected it, but now you’ve confirmed it.”

You winced, but she laughed and went on. “The first mission we were all three on, you left the sushi joint with his arm around you on the last night. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened. Especially with his reputation. Then the second time, you two disappeared together in the middle of a mission.”

Sumi and Keiko stared at you for a moment. When you didn’t deny anything Aiko said, they launched into a string of rapid questions.

“How was it?”

You shrugged. “Uh, nice?”

“Is he good in bed?”

“…. Yes.”

“Does he really have a huge dick?”

You blushed, but nodded, and the girls made a squealing sound.

“I heard he keeps his sunglasses on during sex. Is that true?”

“I asked him to take them off,” you answered.

“Can’t believe you scored him twice,” Aiko said, interrupting the interrogation. “From what I’ve heard, he never sleeps with the same person more than once.”

You blinked. “Really?”

Aiko nodded. “Yeah, he’s a one and done kinda guy. Guess he doesn’t want to get serious with anyone. Speaking of which, you should be careful. Don’t get too involved with him. He doesn’t seem like the type of guy to settle down, from what everyone says about him.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks.” You gave a vague answer. Aiko had no idea what had really happened between you and Gojo. You hadn’t realized that being a repeat lover for him was so rare. You wondered what the girls would think if they knew he’d invited you to spend the weekend at his place.

But all that was over, you reminded yourself. You and Gojo were over. You had more respect for yourself than to be flattered by a guy, even one as amazing as Gojo, wanting to use you as a sex friend.

Your phone suddenly rang, and you fished it out of your purse to see who the caller was, thankful for the distraction. It was Haruto, and you felt a little guilty that you’d just been talking and thinking about another man. You answered, and his voice sounded strained on the other end.

“I need to see you,” he was saying, the words coming out a little too quickly. “It’s urgent.”

“Right now? But we were just together,” you said, confusion building in your mind. You hoped he wasn’t just trying to get you in bed. His attempts had started to feel a little pushy lately.

“It’s important,” he said. “I’ve rented a hotel room near the bar so we can talk privately.”

“Haruto, I’m really not comfortable going to a hotel with you.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking, I swear,” he told you, his voice sounding frantic. “I just… need to talk to you. And it has to be in person. Okay?”

You sighed. “Alright. If it’s just to talk.”

After you ended the call, you got a text from Haruto with the name of the hotel and the room number. You told your friends what happened and waved goodbye to them before heading back to see what was so urgent.

As you walked down the carpeted hallway of the hotel, you felt a faint feeling of panic, like something might be very wrong. Had Haruto received bad news? Or perhaps he’d grown tired of waiting and had decided to break up with you. The thought made you feel relieved rather than worried, and you thought that was a bad sign for your relationship.

You reached room 404 and took a deep breath before knocking. A few seconds later, the door opened, and Haruto stood on the other side. He looked terrible! His face was damp with sweat, his skin was pale, his eyes darted about like a frightened animal’s. “Haruto?” you asked. “What’s wrong?”

He stepped back and motioned you in without a word. When you stepped through the door, your breath caught in your throat.

Sitting on the edge of the bed was Gojo. No blindfold or sunglasses, which was rare, and his face looked deadly serious, which was even more rare. He stood up as Haruto shut the door behind you.

“Gojo? What are you doing here? What’s going on?”

Gojo’s expression softened when he looked at you. “I overheard your boyfriend talking to his buddy at the bar after you left. I think you deserve to know what he was saying.”

You looked curiously at Haruto. He wrung his hands nervously and looked at the floor.

“Haruto,” Gojo said, and there was a coldness to his tone that you’d never heard before. It was like that one word alone was the most terrifying threat in the world.

Haruto nearly jumped at the sound, then he finally looked you in the face. “Alright! Fuck it, I’ll admit it! I have cameras hidden all over my bedroom. I was gonna record us whenever I could talk you into sleeping with me!”

You stared at him, hearing the words but not processing them. “Record us? What are you talking about?”

“I was gonna make videos of you without telling you,” he said.

Gojo chimed in. “Tell her what you were gonna do with the videos, Haruto.”

Haruto was avoiding your gaze again. “I was gonna share them with my friends. And maybe sell them online.”

Ah. So that was it. He didn’t like you. He didn’t care about you at all. He just wanted to sleep with you, just like Gojo. Just like all the guys who approached you in high school and even now. Only this was much worse. He wanted to share your intimate moments with others against your will. Thank god you hadn’t slept with him.

You glared at him, your face feeling hot with humiliation and your eyes becoming wet. All this had to happen in front of Gojo! Haruto took a step toward you. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t-“

“Stop,” you said, cutting him off. “I don’t want to hear another word. Stay away from me.”

He must have known you were serious by the look on your face. His expression changed from guilt to annoyance. “Fine. Whatever. I was only interested in you for your tits anyway. Not like you’ve got anything else I want.”

Gojo stepped over to Haruto and shoved him toward the door. “Alright, you can get the fuck out now, you useless piece of shit.”

Haruto flinched at the harshness of Gojo’s voice, and was out the door in seconds. Now alone in the room with Gojo, you turned your back to him so he couldn’t look at your face. You were already embarrassed enough.

“Thank you for warning me about him,” you said, trying and failing to keep your voice steady. You wanted to leave, but you also wanted to give Haruto enough time to be gone by the time you got down to the hotel lobby. You definitely didn’t want to run into him again.

You heard Gojo’s footsteps coming closer to you, then his voice, so much softer than before, asking, “Are you okay?”

Wiping your eyes, you turned to face him, surprised that he was already so close. “I’ll be fine,” you said with a fake smile plastered on your mouth. Then you stepped toward the door to leave.

Gojo suddenly grabbed your wrist. “Wait,” he said, “I was at the bar tonight because I knew you’d be there. I wanted to talk to you.”

You pulled your hand free of his gentle grip. Tears were still burning your eyes. “Please, I can’t handle this right now,” you told him.

“Handle what?”

“You telling me again how I don’t meet your standards but you’ll lower yourself enough to fuck me sometimes. I get it, okay? Just please leave me alone.”

Gojo just stared at you, a hurt expression on his face. “I guess I deserve that,” he said. “But no, I came to apologize. I was wrong. I was an idiot, a dumbass, whatever you wanna call me. I said a lot of stupid shit that hurt you, and I’m sorry. If it’s not too late, could we start over?”

Your heart was doing flip flops. You’d longed to hear him say those words, but… after what just happened with Haruto, you had to be more careful.

You looked away from him, not wanting to let him charm you with those beautiful eyes of his. “Do you want me as a sex friend?

Or something more?”

He moved closer, close enough to put his hands on your shoulders. “You’re all I can think about when we’re apart. I miss the way we talked during that first mission, the way you laughed. I want us to go back to that. I want to see where this goes. So I guess I’m asking if you’ll be my girlfriend.”

You turned away from him. “I’d love to, but I can’t be a secret, Gojo. If you can’t tell anyone about us-“

“I’ll tell the whole world!”

You looked at his face. “What?”

He looked totally serious. “I’ll tell everyone. I want everyone to know.”

You almost dove into his arms, but something held you back. “It’s easy to say that here, right now, in a hotel room. Will you still say that in the morning?”

He hesitated for a moment, and you felt that familiar sense of dread. But then he pulled out his phone and closed the distance between you. He wrapped one arm around you and pulled your face closer to his, then he kissed your cheek. At the same time, his other hand held up his phone and took a selfie of the two of you.

He pulled away and began tapping on his phone, leaving you stunned into silence. Then, your phone chimed. You pulled it out and found a notification that you’d been tagged in a post on Mystigram. With trembling fingers, you opened it to see.

Gojo had posted the picture of him kissing your cheek to his page, and tagged you in it. The caption read: “Me and my hot girlfriend! Try not to be jealous!”

Your eyes flew back to his face. He was grinning at you. The post started getting comments immediately.

Itadori Yuji: Congrats, sensei! 😁

Kugisaki Nobara: Ugh, she’s way too pretty for you!

Ieiri Shoko: Try not to fuck this up.

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. But you had one more question.

“What made you change your mind?”

Gojo was laughing as he read over the comments pouring in. “Oh, it just took Shoko talking some sense into me. I was going crazy, worrying about you being on missions, wondering what you were doing, craving your homemade sweets… so I went to her for advice. She’s always had a way of making me see logic.”

“You told her about me?”

“We’ve been friends since high school. Of course I told her,” he said. Then he laughed again. “I told Nanami too but I don’t think he was paying much attention. I was mid sentence when he said, ‘Please stop telling me about your sordid escapades. I’m going to vomit.’ And that was all he had to say about it.”

He’d told his friends about you. He’d been worried enough about this situation to consult them. And he didn’t mind those closest to him knowing about you, even before realizing he’d been wrong. Those thoughts warmed your heart.

Before you knew it, you were crying again, so overwhelmed with emotion. Gojo dropped his phone on the bed and wrapped his arms around you. “So? Are we a couple now?” he asked.

You nodded against his chest, and his arms tightened slightly. “Great,” he said, stroking your hair. “Want me to fuck you?”

A laugh escaped your lips, and the tears stopped. You pulled back and looked up at him. “So romantic.”

He leaned down and kissed you. “I’ve been dreaming about rearranging your insides,” he whispered, his voice tingling in your ear. “Have you been dreaming about me?”

You kissed him back, tasting his lips. “Yes,” you breathed out.

“What were you dreaming?” he asked, his voice turning husky as his hands began to roam over your body.

“Ahh,” you moaned as he kissed your neck. “It’s… embarrassing…” You had been dreaming about him. A lot. Most of it had been quite filthy.

One of his hands slipped under your dress, rubbing up your bare thigh and then squeezing your ass. “Embarrassing? Heh. I’m gonna have to fuck that shyness out of you.”

That sounded fun, you thought, raising your arms to allow him to pull your dress over your head. You unzipped his jacket, your hands desperately trying to get his clothes off as fast as possible.

The jacket discarded, he pulled his black T-shirt off next, then stood back to look at you in your silky black underwear. “Seriously,” he said, “tell me what you want. I’ll make it happen, whatever it is. Any fantasy, any dirty idea that pops into your head. I wanna hear it.”

You looked at the floor and muttered something.

“What was that?”

You stepped closer and met his gaze. “I said… I want you in my mouth.”

His beautiful eyes widened, and there was a glimmer of excitement in them as he grinned and said, “Holy fuck, I hit the jackpot!”

***********

Gojo was lying on his back in the bed, completely nude, his naked girlfriend halfway across him, her warm, wet mouth greedily sucking his cock. He raised his head up to watch. He couldn’t imagine a more lovely sight than her soft, full lips sliding down his shaft.

He moved one hand down to touch her hair, just happy to have her within reach. She glanced sideways at him, her face tinted pink. How cute of her to be shy even while deep throating him.

He’d had plenty of blowjobs in his life, even given a few, but this… this was different. Was it because he’d formed an emotional connection to her? He felt so much affection for her that simply being touched by her at all felt far better than anything he’d experienced with anyone else.

Well, with one exception, but he wasn’t ready to think about that, to compare them. He’d tucked those memories into a neat little box in the back of his mind where they could remain untouched and protected.

But this wasn’t enough. He wanted to taste her too. He grabbed hold of her legs and swung them up and over him, so that she was lying face down on top of him, her head at his groin and his at hers. She gave a little cry of surprise and drew her knees forward to lift herself off him, but that only spread her thighs apart and gave him easier access.

“G-Gojo, what are you doing?” Her voice sounded so flustered. He could practically hear the embarrassed arousal.

“I thought I told you to call me Satoru,” he murmured, pressing his lips ever so gently to her heated, quivering flesh. She jerked, but he grabbed her hips and held her in place. He waited, feeling her taut legs relax slowly, giving her time to get used to this extremely intimate position.

“Don’t stare at me,” she said in a shy voice, then he felt her lips around his cock again.

“Oh I’m gonna do so much more than stare,” he said back, using his fingers to open her folds. “I’m gonna do so many embarrassing things to you…” He ran his tongue over her open slit, tasting the plentiful juices. She was drenched, and deliciously sweet. He felt her body twitch nervously, but her mouth never slacked off. He felt her tongue lapping at his tip, her soft hands squeezing wherever they could.

Her clit was so cute, sitting there so glossy with his saliva and her fluids, completely defenseless to him. His thumb rubbed over it, then he prodded it with his tongue, drawing circles around it.

She shifted, her mouth leaving his dick long enough for her to moan out, “Satoru… I’m… I’m about to…”

He licked her clit again, slowly. “You can cum first,” he said.

She wiggled a bit in his grasp, but then took him into her mouth again, stifling her own moans. She took him so far in it felt like he was being swallowed, and the little gagging sound she made sent shivers through his entire body. Now it felt like a competition, and Gojo never lost.

His tongue was on her clit again, and he pushed two fingers inside her, curling them in a way that made her thighs tremble on either side of him. He felt himself slide out of her mouth, and then her tongue was gliding over him from base to tip. He could feel his cock twitching under her touch, but he kept himself under control. Then, he heard her sweet little voice say, “Satoru… cum in my mouth… please?”

Fuck, she wasn’t playing fair! His breath hitched in his throat, a shudder rippling through him, but he wasn’t defeated just yet. He leaned up and lapped at her clit again, gently, slowly, feeling her clenching his fingers, and then he grazed his teeth over it, lightly pulling on the tiny nub.

She moaned around his cock, her legs shaking, and he knew he’d won. He kept pumping his fingers into her as she rode out her orgasm, her lips still around the base of his cock. With no more reason to hold back, he let the feeling of her hot mouth overwhelm him, and he came straight into her throat.

He let his head fall back onto the pillow as he panted, and she took the opportunity to turn her body around so that her legs fell off the side of the bed, her face still buried in his crotch. She waited until he was completely empty before she removed her mouth, but a few strings of cum were drizzling down his cock. He held his head up enough to look down at her as she licked him clean.

When finished, she straightened up, sitting on her knees beside the bed. She looked like an angel, or a goddess. How could he have ever thought he was out of her league? How did it take him so long to realize how amazing she was? He’d been a fucking fool.

He sat up in the bed and smiled at her. “Take a shower with me?”

She blushed. “A shower? I guess so.”

He laughed. “How are you shy after everything we’ve done? I had my face shoved in your pussy just now.”

She turned beet red. “Ahhh! Don’t say that! I was trying not to think about it!”

He stood up from the bed and pulled her into a hug, their naked bodies pressed against each other. “Do you still doubt how hot you are? You can’t even imagine how many times I’ve jacked off while thinking about you.”

She looked up at him. “Really?”

He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “Really.”

She smiled then, and took his hand as they walked into the bathroom.

**************

You were still nervous about showering with Gojo. It felt like such a private thing to do, but he seemed really into the idea, so you agreed. He joked around as he turned the water on, pretending he didn’t know how to work the knobs and “accidentally” spraying himself in the face. He was trying to put you at ease, and it was mostly working. You found yourself giggling at his antics as you both stepped into the large, walk-in shower.

Before you could even reach for the small bottle of shampoo sitting in a tiny corner shelf, Gojo suddenly shoved your back against the glass shower door and kissed you passionately, his mouth overtaking your own. The steamy water was spraying both your bodies, soaking his shiny hair, running down his torso. Without even looking, you knew he was hard again, the large erection pressing against your stomach.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and his hands slipped under your thighs, lifting you up so that your legs could wrap around his body. You were pinned against the shower door when you felt him push inside you, deeply, roughly, the way you loved it. Your back collided with the glass with every powerful thrust, an ache you’d been craving building between your legs as he pounded into you.

You were going to be covered in bruises after this, but that thought only turned you on even more. Gojo had that wild look in his eyes, the one that almost made you cum on the spot. You wanted him to break you. It wasn’t that you were a masochist. It wasn’t pain that excited you, but rather watching him lose control, seeing that unhinged expression and knowing you had that effect on him, that you could drive him mad with your body. The pain, the bruises, they were just the evidence.

Burying your face in his neck, you tried to muffle your moans, your breaths shuddering. He was making such lovely grunts and growls, his fingers digging into your soft thighs. You chanced a peek at his face, and he looked like an entirely different person from the man who’d just been joking around with you. His wet hair was partially covering one eye, the other practically glowing with uncontrolled lust, his lips parted, teeth showing as ragged breaths pushed through them.

God, he was beautiful. Frighteningly so. Inhumanly so. For the second time, you wondered if he actually was a god that had been banished to earth. He certainly fucked like one.

Your legs slipped from his waist, the water making it hard to keep your grip, and they dangled helplessly above the floor. He didn’t even seem to notice that he was holding more of your weight as he plowed into you, every thrust feeling deeper than the last. Your arms were still around his neck, but your strength was failing you. You clasped your hands tightly and leaned your face up to kiss him. His mouth was hungry upon yours, his tongue shoving its way in.

When you came, your arms fell to your sides and your body went limp in his arms, quivering with pleasure as he kept fucking you. His grip on you tightened, and after several more minutes of being slammed into the glass door, you felt his whole body stiffen. Then, you felt hot cum shoot deeply inside you as Gojo groaned.

He stayed inside you for several more minutes, even after he’d finished cumming. It was like he didn’t want to separate from you, but eventually he pulled out and set you back on your feet. You legs gave way immediately, as if they were made of spaghetti, but Gojo caught you. He held you gently until you regained your strength, then he reached you the soap with a grin.

“I’ll wash your back if you wash mine,” he said.

You laughed, taking the soap from him as he turned his toned back to you.

An hour later, you were both dressed and sitting on the bed in the hotel room, talking about what each of you had been up to lately. During a lull in the conversation, you leaned your head over on his shoulder and whispered, “Is this real?”

“Hmm?”

You hesitated, then said, “I keep waiting for you to say this won’t work out.”

He wrapped an arm around you. “I’m not gonna lie and say this will be easy. I travel a lot for missions, and my teaching job is important to me, but we can make it work. We’ll spend time together whenever we can. Speaking of which… wanna come to my place next weekend?”

You laughed, feeling the tension dissipate from your body. “For pancakes? Sure.”

“And debauchery,” he said. “Don’t forget the debauchery.”

****************

Epilogue:

The first thing you thought when you arrived at Gojo’s house was, “Holy shit, it’s huge!”

Gojo stepped up beside you and gave you a peck on the cheek. “That’s what she said.”

You giggled at his silly joke and let him lead you inside. The house was of an old fashioned design, with a closed in yard, sliding doors, tatami floors, the whole works. It was a sprawling estate that looked as if it would have dozens of servants roaming the halls.

“You really live here all by yourself?”

He shook his head as he laid out some slippers for you to change into, then pulled off his own shoes. “I have an apartment near the school that I use most of the time. I don’t use this place often, but this is a special weekend.”

“It’s beautiful,” you said, looking around. Despite the classic design of the structure, it had modern furnishings. You were admiring a lovely vase on a glossy wooden end table when you noticed a large cardboard box sitting just inside the living room. It looked totally out of place, and Gojo noticed your interest.

“Go ahead and look inside,” he told you, a strange smile on his lips.

“Okay…”

You approached the box and pulled the flaps open, squatting down to get a good look. Inside was an assortment of items you couldn’t quite identify at first. But as you began pulling them out and looking more closely, your face began to burn.

“Are these… all sex toys?!”

Gojo laughed at your reaction. “Well, not all of them. There’s some costumes, handcuffs, edible underwear…”

You grimaced as you pulled out what appeared to be a riding crop, then the biggest dildo you’d ever seen in your life. There was also a skimpy maid costume, among other bizarre garments. “Why is all this stuff just sitting here in a box?”

Gojo rubbed the back of his head, messing up his hair a bit. He looked oddly shy. “I ordered it all. I figured we could have fun trying a bunch of stuff, see what we like.”

That did sound like fun. You examined each item, sometimes having no idea what its function was.

Gojo sat down on the floor beside you, watching your face as you looked though the box. “If there’s anything that makes you uncomfortable, just put it back in the box and I’ll toss it. Or better yet, I’ll have it delivered to Nanami’s place.”

You laughed then, imagining the strait laced-looking man you met a few days ago opening a box full of items like these.

When you were finished sorting them into piles of “will definitely try”, “might try”, and “hard no”, you and Gojo both stood up. “So, are you going to give me a tour?” you asked.

Gojo gave you a somewhat menacing grin, his dark sunglasses blocking out your view of his eyes. “Sure. Let’s start with the basement.”

The End.

Tag List:

@snowprincesa1 @pandoraium @hitori979 @famousdestinyland��@gloomysel @noodlejitsu @postmancat @lanecass @aquamarine001 @officialholyagua @lil-bexie @kisssatoru @tqd4455 @yoriichiskatana @karmcrim15 @pyschopotatomeme @whippedbyikemen @changingchances @1985bitch @ritsatoru @prophecyflame @haileycannotcometothephonern @creolequeen11210 @onyxino @crimsonmarabou @thick-skull89 @risuola @yourhotcupcake101

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo smut #Gojo x you #satoru x reader

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drdemonprince · 2 months

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ive seen you talk about FIRE/mr money moustache and i am interested in how you balance that with your politics. i ask because i am also interested in FIRE but struggle with the idea of saving 2mil+ to retire early when people need money NOW to survive. not just broadly but even loved ones and community members in my immediate vicinity. i dont mean this in an EXPLAIN YOURSELF sort of way, just so many of the FIRE etc people i find writing about it dont really address this aspect and its something i struggle with internally myself.

Sure, I don't mind speaking about this at all. I wish I more frequently had the occasion to because it's a major special interest of mine.

First, I'm not interested in the saving 2 million dollars (if that were even feasible) school of financial independence/ retire early. I'm more of an adherent to the r/LeanFire, r/BaristaFire type approach of maintaining a consistently very frugal standard of living that is sustainable for me, on a relatively smaller savings, and pursuing a life of relatively little consumption.

I also think that MMM, despite his many flaws, is broadly accurate in stating that when people continuing working all their lives, they also create more ecological devastation by consuming a whole of a hell lot more resources on convenience and burning more fuel, while chasing after a steadily rising living standard set by the norms of their profession. By taking myself out of the workforce sooner rather than later, I will be contributing less to climate change and waste because I'll need fewer convenience meals, fewer car rides, fewer flights, fewer hotel rooms, fewer fancy professional clothes, and so on and so on.

I also spend a lot of time on the Socially Conscious Mustachians group on Facebook, which focuses on investing one's savings in ways that are less ethically problematic. The easy mode version of this is simply putting one's money into index funds that exclude oil companies, gun manufacturers, etc. But honestly, today, with interest rates being as high as they are? It's pretty easy to just sock one's money into a CD or a bond, collect the cool 5.4% interest, and avoid having to contribute to the stock market directly at all. There are even high-yield savings accounts at credit unions that pay out about that much interest these days, and those entities typically do not invest in oil pipelines, BDS targets, or anything all that objectionable.

As for the hoading money while others are in need piece: Well. yeah. that's a difficult ethical challenge that we all must consider. how much can i hold onto for my own wellbeing in the spirit of "putting on one's oxygen mask first" without it being wealth hoarding? how much should i give to other people when i see that they are in need --someone could easily make the case that I have the moral obligation to give away what i have to my very last cent, and I couldn't really argue with them on that. maybe a person should do that. but i'm not going to do it. and of course the effective altruism freakos would counter that if i invest my money and grow it now, i will have more to give to others in the long run than if i cash out now.

realistically, i won't be able to continue working for much longer without having another health episode or worse. i will not qualify for disability benefits because high maskers who have had careers usually do not. and social security's coffers will be entirely drained long before i reach the age to qualify for it. if i enter my non-working years without any resources, someone else will have to worry about me staying housed and medicated and fed.

i tend to think of my retire early stash as my own little private disability benefits fund that will allow me to live safely and will hopefully allow me to take care of other people that i love as we age, and that will give me the freedom from having to do any morally compromising capitalist labor ever again, and only put my energies towards causes that either fulfill me or benefit others.

but it's still rooted in a highly individualistic capitalist system, this holding onto money under my own name and investing it thing. im sure a lot of people would choose instead to sock all of their money into some kind of cooperatively owned communist farm or something, and you know, some day down the line i would love to put money toward a big multi unit building that lots of people i am in community with could live in, with no financial obligations for them. but i dont have anywhere near that kind of scratch. as hannibal buress (that landlord piece of shit) said, "i don't have fuck you money, i have strongly worded email money." and you know, being able to write a strongly worded email to people who would otherwise be exploiting me into another huge burnout does feel good.

thinking that one day i might not work anymore is one of the only things that keeps me going. i am always on the razor's edge of not functioning, i dont think people really realize that, how could they, the mask is there to prevent them seeing it. im beyond privileged to even get to CONSIDER the dream of getting by on my savings for however long human society continues to exist. and it sure would be better if i could extend that kind of freedom and peace of mind to others. my life still feels very precarious and it always has and ive had to be stable for the sake of others for a long time, ive had to be financially responsible for others for a long time. i cling to the idea of FI/RE because it offers me a way to finally break down and be weak. but something more community oriented and interdependent would sure as fuck be better. in the meantime i guess im saving for something like that i could trust enough to give myself over to.

i also have a really strong fetishistic desire to be someone's completely brainwashed sex pet for the entire rest of my life, and having an early retirement account would really help me facilitate that

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sophieinwonderland · 6 months

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Alright... let's talk seriously about what widespread plural acceptance and visibility means for anti-endos

If anyone has been following recent drama, I responded to a hate anon with an... overly bleak description of what plural acceptance would look like for anti-endos. That description included, among other things, a prediction that they would lose everyone they love.

The thing is, I don't believe that. (Well, maybe for that specific anon, because the type of person who casually throws around threats to bash people's heads in isn't the type of person to maintain a lot of healthy social relationships and it would be in the best interest of everyone associated with them to go their separate ways.)

But people with harmful beliefs do still find places to keep those beliefs alive.

What I do think will happen though is that what's been a mostly online issue up until now won't be mostly online for long, and anti-endos will need to learn to cope with that.

So here's the more nuanced version of that prediction:

I believe a plural wave is coming

I don't know when. Maybe it will sneak up on us and the world will be more plural before we realize it.

Right now, it's happening slowly. But on the academic front, we're at least getting a lot more research into non-disordered systems over the past decade where none existed before. A new paper even includes a system using their system name as author(s)

We have tools like Simply Plural and Pluralkit. Apparently even mods like Switchy for Minecraft which came as a total surprise to me to learn of.

And younger systems are more willing to want to be open as systems in their daily life which will have a cascading effect and give other young systems the courage to be as well.

As systems become more visible, not only will more be willing to be out, but more will discover their plurality and more people will want to be systems. And luckily, the tulpamancy community has a wealth of resources that can accommodate them and help them create their own headmates.

Amidst all of this, I believe the expanding metaverse and VR dissociation may contribute to plurality in a way nobody really expected.

What may really kick things off would be huge and influential celebrities coming out and positioning themselves as plural activists. It hasn't happened yet, but feels like a matter of time.

How Anti-Endos React to This Changing World Will Determine How They'll be Treated

It won't be as simple as "everyone you love will abandon you for being anti-endo." But endogenic systems will become more common and you'll have to interact with them in your daily life.

If in 20 years, your niece comes out as a system and they want their family to refer to them by the names of whoever is fronting... how you treat them may determine how people in your family treat you. If you disrespect them or fakeclaim their system, even in private amongst other relatives, you may find yourself in a position where other members of the family don't want to associate with you anymore.

The same may be true of people coming out in friend groups, churches, workplaces, etc.

You may find yourself in a position where you're expected to regularly interact with an endogenic system, and to do so respectfully towards their headmates in your daily life. And that's going to be a tough pill to swallow.

It's going to be hard for anti-endos to adapt, and if they treat endogenic system offline like they treat us online, a lot of relationships are going to be destroyed by their own bigotry, and a lot of their friends and loved ones may abandon them due to their behavior.

And doing so... is the right thing to do. If someone has to choose between their endogenic children and an anti-endo sibling who refuses to adapt accept them, it should be an easy choice.

But it's going to hurt.

People will get hurt because no change, even positive change, can be entirely painless for everyone. And for bigots who build their identity around hating a group of people, those people they hated being out and proud in public will be painful for them.

In order to make the world safer for people like the niece in this hypothetical and all the endogenic and mixed origin systems of the future, it's going to need to become more hostile towards people spreading hate against us.

For the Anti-Endos Looking For a Reason to Hate Me...

Here it is.

Every action I take is made with the goal of creating a world where you may be exposed to endogenic systems frequently in your day-to-day-life and that shift is going to hurt you if you're unwilling to adapt to it.

Hurting people is not the primary objective.

But neither am I ignorant of what the consequences of fighting for plural acceptance will be for those on the other side. A world that's truly safe for endogenic and mixed origin systems to exist in public is going to be hostile and unaccepting towards anti-endos.

#syscourse #pro endogenic #pro endo

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reflections-in-a-critical-eye · 9 months

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Could you explain a bit better what you meant with this sentence about your thoughts on jikook?

"But I also wouldn't be totally surprised if what looks as obvious right now to actually not mean what a lot of us think simply because we're missing information."

What I meant was how can I be absolutely convinced that my perception and understanding of what I see is right when there's so much information that I don't know. Big puzzle pieces missing because I don't have access to them and I shouldn't anyway.

I too see what so many people who ship/support Jikook see. Of course I can say that I'm not blind, it's so obvious that both of them leave a certain impression that leads people to believe they are/might be in a relationship together. And we say that based on what we see and our own understanding of relationships. Wether we are in one ourselves or maybe we recognize the romance signs from those around us or from fiction. The point is, most of us are able to identity certain markers that can indicate that. I'm starting to sound way too technical by using this language, ugh. Anon, we all know what love is or what it looks like. The same with attraction. That's it. It's that simple. And we see it when we look at other people, be it on the street, in a cafe, at the cinema or on the screen.

But does this mean there are no chances of us being wrong? Of course there are. We show our social self to the world and we perform our own self and in connection to others. And it differs depending of where we find ourselves in private or public spheres.

In that case, Jimin and Jungkook have this entire life outside of what we see and most importantly what they want us to see and what not. They have friends and acquitances we have no idea about. Maybe they spend their day with those people on an almost daily basis and we wouldn't know because perhaps there are no photos. You see what I mean?

Nevertheless, shipping within common sense is fine. It's about having fun and getting giddy at seeing how they are together and thinking there is more to it. But of course it's not always like that. It's more of an ideal situation in which not many people find themselves in. The rest are invested. Which on a surface level would be easy to criticize or mock, but aren't all fans invested, regardless of their interests in BTS and their role in the fandom? There's that common understanding that the group showed up in people's lives when they needed it. And while it is true in a positive sense, it also showed up when people are having some unfulfilled emotional needs. That's not something to feel ashamed about. We humans can be so miserable and unhappy and depressed more and more and we see it everywhere. That's another facet of getting into the fandom and consequently going down the shipping/supporting road. Because whether we are sad or happy with our lives, we are still sappy and in love with the idea of love. And we go down the rabbit hole and it feels so nice. Until it doesn't and suddenly it's ugly and some people want out. They get miserable and instead of making their peace with it, they send anon asks that start with "I'm an ex-jikooker" and so on.

Anyway, bear with me, I'm close to having a conclusion to all this. So, what does this mean? Should we all have or always express some doubt because we have to be anchored in reality? So we don't find ourselves being called delusional or sick for believing something so simple as two people who might be in love? No. And you know why I don't feel guilty? Because I'm not the one doing it. I'm not the one behaving in a way that makes people believe I may be in love with my bandmate. I'm not the one ok with having that being made public or have flirty conversations on public platforms. And they are also not idiots. Let's be very clear about that. They are not. If we can draw conclusions so easily based on everything we see, rest assured they too are aware of how they come across. They are not some rookie idols six months into their debut at 15 years old. They are adults and this is the image they are fine with projecting. Be it real or not. Me or you and everyone else who is interested in them will see it. And if turns out we were wrong, two things to have in mind. Some people will feel shitty for various reasons. Some selfish and crazy, but a more common one would be having to accept that our beliefs are wrong, that we spent time and time again talking and thinking about something that made sense, based on logic and all of a sudden, it is not. But that's something each has to deal with.

What it is very important to note though, is that this is not a one way street. Opinions were made based on content and things those two people have said to each other and about each other. If one is delusional for drawing conclusions it's also because Jimin and Jungkook had their contribution to it. What we do with that is entirely our own responsibility. Some go bat shit crazy, like a group did when holding hands on the street of Paris was the rave for a few days and others will have other reactions. But let's not demonize fans completely and diminish the role of those who are actively offering the "material".

Seeing so many people in the fandom holding their breath waiting for "jikook to be debunked" is a lot more pathetic than those who ship them. I wonder if that same expectation is there for all the other ships that involve Jimin and Jungkook. My guess is not, which tells you a lot. It's a waiting game that is done through sending the same ill intentioned ask to bloggers to rile them up. It's making blogs or turning them into spaces for ex-jikookers. It's about making polls to have shippers and ex-shippers talk about how they would react when/if it ends. It's a game in which there is the need to win. Those who are not enjoying or aren't directly involved are not only eager to participate, but they are the ones who create the games, which says a lot more about how this one damn ship can really affect people from all corners of the fandom.

#m thoughts #jikook #bts ships #bts shipping #kpop shipping

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mariacallous · 4 months

Text

The internet sucks now. Once a playground fueled by experimentation and freedom and connection, it’s a flimsy husk of what it was, all merriment and serendipity leached from our screens by vile capitalist forces. Everything is too commercialized. We commodified the self, then we commodified robots to impersonate the self, and now they’re taking our damn jobs. We live in diminished and degrading times. I miss when memes were funny. I miss Vine. I miss Gawker. I miss old Twitter. Blogs—those were the days!

Stop me if these gripes sound familiar. In 2023, the idea that the internet isn’t fun anymore is conventional wisdom. This year, after Elon Musk renamed Twitter “X” and instituted a series of berserk changes that made it substantially less functional, complaints about the demise of the good internet popped up like mushrooms sprouting in dirt tossed over a fresh grave. Some people even complained on the very platforms they were mourning. Type “internet sucks now” into X’s search bar, you’ll see.

The New Yorker published an essay by writer Kyle Chayka on the subject, calling the decline of X a “bellwether for a new era of the Internet that simply feels less fun than it used to be.” People loved it. (Sample comments from X: “Relatable.” “Exactly right.”) Chayka claims that it’s now harder to find new memes, websites, and browser games than it was a decade ago. He also argues that the rising crop of platforms popular with young people—Twitch, TikTok—are inferior, enjoyment-wise, to the social web of the 2010s.

Both of these arguments are baffling. Memes fresher in the past? Yes, it’s tiresome to see Tim Robinson in a hot dog costume for the 500th time, but c’mon. In the early 2010s—the years Chayka longs for—the internet was all doge and doggos. It was the era of reaction GIF Tumblrs, the Harlem Shake, the Ice Bucket Challenge. Give me literally any still from I Think You Should Leave over “You Had One Job” epic fail image macros. Only glasses of the rosiest tint could recast the 2013 internet as a shitposting paradise lost.

The argument that the 2010s social web was superior amusement to the platforms now popular with Gen Z is even stranger. TikTok has major issues, but being unfun is not one of them. It’s been a springboard for some genuinely talented people, from comic Brian Jordan Alvarez to writer Rayne Fisher-Quann to chef Tabitha Brown. Binging Twitch streams certainly isn’t my thing, but people aren’t being held at gunpoint and forced to watch seven straight hours of Pokimane. They like it! They’re having fun! And how can one say with a straight face that gaming got worse? Roblox alone is a gleeful world unto itself; to pretend it doesn’t exist and isn’t a vibrant digital hangout is goofy and obtuse.

Corrosion of specific platforms on the internet—X, to pluck the most obvious example—is an observable phenomenon. (I, too, mourn old Twitter.) Musk’s changes to how X operates have made it harder to surface and verify information; his antics have driven away both advertisers and power users and allowed the cryptogrifter class to spam inboxes with invitations to NFT drops and meme coins, resulting in a digital space that feels abandoned and crowded at once. Other platforms, though, are flourishing.

Look at Discord, for instance. Its siloed structure is a throwback to the pre-Facebook internet era, when socializing online often meant logging on to specific forums. The disintegration of the Big Tech-dominated 2010s internet is creating a more balkanized social web experience, what Kickstarter cofounder Yancey Strickler calls the “dark forest” theory, where people turn away from big, open mega-platforms in favor of more private or niche digital spaces, from nonpublic Slack channels to invite-only WeChat groups or special-interest podcasts. While some people might find that boring and hard to navigate, it’s not universally boring, or inherently difficult to navigate.

There are serious problems with the internet right now. Platform decay—“enshittification”—is real, and it’s not limited to X. Search is in shambles. Plus, the flood of AI spam has just begun. But there were serious problems with the internet 10 years ago too. Arguing that the decline of certain corners of a previous version of the internet means that the entire internet isn’t entertaining anymore is a preposterous leap.

The impulse to describe the internet as being in a dire existential crisis is an understandable one, especially if you love going online—it’s easier to get people to pay attention to emergencies, isn’t it? All sorts of decidedly not-dead things get declared dead periodically, from literary criticism to monogamy to Berlin. “My favorite platforms are faltering and I don’t like the new ones” isn’t as compelling a pitch as “The basic experience of goofing off online is on the brink of extinction!!!”

But the basic experience of goofing off and being creative online is not on the brink of extinction. Ten years from now, there will be writers—even if they’re AI chumbots churning out shitty prose on SubstaXitch, the demonic merged iteration of Twitch, Substack, and X our poor children will use—earnestly reminiscing about the good old days of 2023, when that affable menswear guy showed up on everybody’s feeds, and TikTok wasn’t banned in the US. I know this. I know it because during the era that Chayka is now nostalgic for, people were also complaining that they missed the old, good internet. (Real headline from 2015: “The Modern Internet Sucks. Bring Back Geocities.”)

This brings me to my theory about the internet. To understand how people feel about being online, look at how they feel about the long-running sketch comedy television show Saturday Night Live.

Bitching about how SNL is so much worse than it used to be is a time-honored tradition. It has been declared “Saturday Night Dead” regularly since it debuted in 1975, nearly 50 years ago. In 1995, for instance, a New York magazine writer bemoaned the “slow, woozy fall of a treasured pop-culture institution.” The cast at the time included Chris Farley, Adam Sandler, Norm Macdonald, and Molly Shannon, all widely considered comedy legends in the present day. In 2017, in fact, New York ranked that cast’s run as the third-best era of SNL, ever, describing it like this: “At its peak, it’s hard to argue the show was ever better.” Quite the reassessment!

In 2014, writer Liz Shannon Miller examined the impulse people have to favor whatever era of Saturday Night Live they grew up with and watched during their formative years. “It’s a generational problem that leads to parents and kids just not being able to agree on the talents of John Belushi versus Will Ferrell,” Miller wrote for IndieWire.

A similar sort of generational problem is playing out right now about what it’s like to spend time online. Millennials grew up logging on in the 2000s and 2010s, maturing alongside Facebook. The internet from this era is the internet of our salad days. Of course watching it get eclipsed by a different iteration hurts. Of course some of us look at TikTok and wish it was Twitter—it’s the same impulse that propels family squabbles about whether the Lonely Island guys were funnier than the Please Don’t Destroy boys. Saturday Night Live has always been wildly uneven. Every era now heralded as golden was once pilloried as corny dreck.

To insist that the fun is over is to adopt an overly nostalgic stance, and one that rests on a pathetic fallacy: Just because you aren’t having fun on the internet doesn’t mean the internet itself is broken. It’s what it always has been, a flawed mirror of the cultural moment. It’s fine not to like it. But don’t pretend there aren’t young people alive right now who are having the most fun they’ll ever have online, just as there are young people alive right now who will be raving to their kids about how hilarious Bowen Yang was on SNL—especially compared to the synthetic clones of Gilda Radner and Jimmy Fallon the AI programmed to imitate Lorne Michaels cast in the 2061 season. We don’t need to make the present sound worse than it is. The future will come, soon enough.

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hcavysoulss · 4 months

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◟ : 〔 GINA TORRES, CIS WOMAN + SHE / HER 〕 MAGDELENA 'MAGGIE' BERNAL , some say you’re a FIFTY ONE YEAR OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both INTUITIVE and JUDGMENTAL, one can’t help but think of FAKE PLASTIC TREES by RAMIN DJAWADI, RADIOHEAD when you walk by. are you still a PSYCHIATRIST for LE DÉDALE CLINIQUE, even with your reputation as THE HIGH PRIESTESS? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and SNEAKING INTO DOWN PRIVATE HALLS, THE MESSY SCRIBBLES OF NOTES ON PATIENTS, THE WATCHFUL EYE OF A WOMAN WHO KNOWS MORE THAN SHE LETS ON, although we can’t help but think of DR. LOUIS BANKS ( ARRIVAL ) + JANE EYRE ( CHARLOTTE BRONT ) + LADY JESSICA ATRAIDES ( DUNE ) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

✱ … loading for MAGDELENA BERNAL ! pinterest | playlist | threads | muse page.

full bio td;lr

born into the bernal family the oldest and only daughter to alonso and chasity bernal. her father a man of a long lineage of wealth and power, her mother a beautiful socialite. her father the ceo of the bernal group, inc. a multinational investment company and one of the worlds largest asset managers.

from a young age maggie was destined for greatness. a child of such a line should be nothing but the greatest. she would be the next ceo of bernal group and reach even knew heights of success. or that’s what she thought. until she quickly realized as a girl there was no room for such a title for a woman in their family. that her younger brother would take charge of that role. he would be the successor and she would be expected to marry wealthy and keep up socially.

maggie didn’t agree with that easily. even with such a powerful man as her father she pushed the envelope to be more than he could expect of his daughter. she graduated early and at the top of her class in high school then went on to columbia to study psychiatry. earning her doctorate before she went on to intern for el dedale clinque until eventually working her way up to head psychiatrist at the clinic.

her time at columbia was an interesting. all while being under the watchful eye of her father she still fell in love. falling for aiden garvey was not apart of her six year plan. but, he quickly swept her off her feet. he was far different from anyone she had previously dated before. a little younger, more rugged, past alter boy who was there on a free ride. his intelligence sparked a curiosity in her or maybe it was the way he spoke to her like no man ever had as if she was right for the goals she had set for herself. it was easy for her to think so highly of him yet her father would never.

especially after the death of his father. she watched with tears in her eyes as they came to tell his family. the sounds of sirens ringing in her ears to this day wakes her up. she felt so deeply for her man. for the one she has fallen for. and yet she watched as he threw everything away. yet, she stayed. she made a promise to him which eventually turn into vows at an alter before man and god. before her father and mother. that aiden was the love of her life.

but things change in a wicked world such as this. as life goes they got their beautiful home, darling children, and they both worked diligently. but, as maggie grew older and her father grew more wicked something had changed within her. she was no longer wanting to be the sheep that was herd around by her father, a wolf in shepherd’s clothing. leading his flock to the den of death. or so it seemed.

she was now head of psychiatry at the clinic. she was trusted now after her many years of service and loyalty. no one questioned her and her motives. and when the switch was flicked in her mind she decided it was time to start her plan. there was whispers of a revolution everywhere you go. people and replicants alike rising up against this government. these baseline tests being unconstitutional… and what does maggie do? simply pass those who may not meet the baseline standard. who is to question her? no one. a simple way to take down the people like her father.

#magdelena.#lawlessintro #queen mother has arrived

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gatheringbones · 7 months

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[“It is worth remembering that there is an intrinsic class tension in all workplaces – between the interests of managers or owners, and the interests of workers. The structural role of managers and owners is to extract as much profit as possible from the labour of employees. In theory, decriminalisation brought sex workers’ workplaces in New Zealand up to the legal level of other workplaces in terms of workers’ access to rights and safety.

This is not to say, however, that decriminalisation has eliminated exploitation, any more than other workplaces (for example, restaurants or construction companies) are free of exploitation simply because they are not criminalised. Decriminalisation cannot wash away class conflict between the interests of management and employees; instead, it aims to mitigate the intense workplace exploitation that is propped up and fuelled by criminalisation.

To be able to work indoors with friends without fearing arrest adds to a worker’s power in their relationship with their manager. Ultimately, if they need to, the worker can leave and work with friends. This power is reflected in the data: since New Zealand implemented decriminalisation, fewer people are working for managers; more are working in shared flats with friends. (Managers even complain about this!) When working together is criminalised, predators can use the threat of arrest against workers, as we’ve seen throughout this book. In contrast, workers in New Zealand’s small co-op workplaces are not vulnerable to violent men using the law against them in this way. As a worker in this set-up told the Prostitution Law Reform Committee, ‘I feel more confident now I know I’ve got rights … there’s no fear now of being caught by police. It was difficult when I was younger. I felt like a criminal, and was less assertive.’ Petal, another private worker, says,

I just think the biggest thing with the law change is … emotional support for the girls to say, ‘Yeah, you’re not doing anything wrong … you’re only doing a job.’ I think that’s the biggest thing … saying it’s not illegal … that’s what I like about the law. It’s supportive.

New Zealand implemented some additional forms of regulation which – unlike German or Dutch laws – are designed with the benefit of sex workers in mind, rather than profiteering, control, or punishment. For example, one provision of the Prostitution Reform Act stipulates that if a sex worker wishes to leave the sex industry, they can access Social Security immediately, without facing the temporary penalty to which they would have been subject had they ‘voluntarily’ left another job. How did this come to be?

In 1988, the New Zealand government started funding a newly formed sex worker led group: the New Zealand Collective of Prostitutes. The NZPC was funded as a health-promotion group; its founding basis was that sex workers should be able to ‘take control of their own health programmes as much as possible in order to determine the direction those programmes should take’. The NZPC immediately identified the criminalisation of prostitution as a serious problem in the lives of sex workers and pressured the government to set up a committee to investigate decriminalisation. Throughout the 1990s, the NZPC worked on bringing their bill to Parliament; in 2000, MP Tim Barnett brought forward a proposal to decriminalise sex work. It passed in 2003, significantly helped by the intervention of MP Georgina Beyer, a Māori trans woman and former street-based sex worker. Beyer told Parliament, ‘It would have been nice to know that … I might have been able to approach the authorities and say: “I was raped, and, yes, I’m a prostitute, and, no, it was not right that I should have been raped.”’

The law was shaped by sex workers themselves. Beyond any one specific regulation, this was crucial – the extensive involvement of sex workers in putting together the law and the focus on the safety of people who sell sex are what distinguish decriminalisation from other legal models. Indeed, the text of the PRA describes its first priority as being to ‘safeguard the human rights of sex workers’. It is extremely unusual for legislation that deals with the sex industry to explicitly conceive of people who sell sex as having rights at all, other than the right to be rescued from being ‘sold’.]

molly smith, juno mac, from revolting prostitutes: the fight for sex workers’ rights, 2018

#molly smith #juno mac #history stuff #currently reading #cw rape

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madaboutmunson · 3 months

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Let me hear you speaking just for me - Part A

This was a pretty long chapter so I've split it in two just for ease of reading :)

I Think I Could Have Been Someone - Chapter 7a

Ao3 Link

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Link to fic overview and all parts

Chapter Summary: Eddie gets the chance to interview Steve for his book.

Author Notes: This is a mature story, definitely 18+ only.

Tags/Warnings: rockstar!AU; band; touring; music industry; alternate universe; drug usage; alcohol abuse; performing; enemies to lovers; road trip; stobin; platonic stobin; platonic with a capital P;

Word Count: 5.9K ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

He'd thought about it. Digging his heels in again. Demanding to fly commercial. So that he wouldn't end up trapped on there with Harrington and whatever set of groupies he was going to use for in-flight entertainment. But Marney had said he was willing to give the entire flight time to Eddie's project.

Eddie had been collecting candids and quotes and diary entries for years now from bands that only played their local bar to multi-platinum artists. His hypothesis was this. Money can buy luxury, and it can make things easier. It can push people to succeed or keep pushing on, but nothing moves a musician more than the music itself. All he had to do was gather the evidence, lay it out nicely, and boom! Perfect coffee table book. Though he loathed Harrington, he wasn't stupid. His fans would buy Eddie's book simply for the exclusive shots and interviews. And Harrington had just given him a whole hour, no questions asked, apparently. Maybe it was another masked apology for their meeting?

Like his therapist has said to him repeatedly, he didn't have to forgive him, but if he could find a way to let go of all this anger towards a stranger, he could find a little more peace. The world was a tough enough place as it is.

After all, how much should Eddie be allowed to hate the guy if he doesn't even know what he did? And after the last two weeks, Eddie has been wondering how much control Harrington has over the asteroid bombardment that happens to things pulled into his orbit.

A day after their meeting, a grainy picture of himself leaving Harrington's house, hilariously labelled him as a mystery woman, had started making the rounds online. Some fans of his must have worked it out because a few days later, he started getting notifications from his old Munson Photography account, thousands of them asking the same thing. Was he finally going to work with Harrington? As the messages started to pour in, the fear that curled around his spine had almost induced waking nightmare recollections of his life falling apart around him. He didn't respond to any of them, but that didn't stop the barrage. If anything, it amplified the situation. Groups of people, girls mainly, positioned around his usual daily haunts. The studio, the coffee shop, the local bar, the laundromat, occasionally surreptitiously, one would snap a photo of him with their phone. He'd just repeat the amount of money he was going to get paid over and over in his head. He'd even had his bins and mailbox rifled through. Soon, they had him tracked all over, and he was extremely glad all his socials were already set to private. Requests appearing on his other social media profiles were all declined. He decided that if this project went well, we'd start up a new public account and dump all the Harrington in dribs and drabs and, hopefully, future stuff there, too.

Eddie wasn't sure if it was because he'd gotten laid recently, if he was excited to get back to doing what he loved, or if it was because he had a golden opportunity, but whatever it was, he wasn't feeling so concerned.

The driver had picked him up from the hotel, which was only a ten-minute walk away, but he supposed someone might have had a few questions if he had just strolled out onto the tarmac here. He'd been ushered to the plane immediately, which was odd because he could still see the pool of photographers waiting in their strategically placed pens. A few snapped at him as he boarded, which was pretty unnerving as he definitely preferred being on the other side of the camera. Luckily, Marney had advised him as such, and he'd taken a little more care of his appearance this morning. He turned down the idea of sunglasses this early in the morning, though they had been recommended.

Once inside, he'd realise Harrington wasn't early because he wasn't on the plane. So Eddie takes the opportunity to unpack his camera and head back down the stairs to the runway. He hides behind the staircase to avoid invading the other photographers' shots. He had access they didn't, but he didn't want to be a complete asshole about it. He said he'd be here on the hour, so Eddie sits on the Tarmac anticipating at least an extra thirty-minute wait, but much to his surprise, Harrington is on time with his team but bereft of groupies.

He steps out of the blacked-out windowed vehicle, again in the typical rockstar clothing you'd expect. Tight leather look pants, a sheer shirt and a knee-length jacket with faux fur trim topped off with swathes of accessories and a black set of wayfarers. Obviously, the specific items are slightly different, but Eddie wonders if it's almost like a uniform. A dark alter-ego of the all-American blue-collar guy who just happened to be good at playing the guitar, he portrayed on stage, on album covers, and inside exclusive magazine articles. Despite the predictability of his outfit, his behaviour is surprising. He opens the door, and someone from another car rushes over to him, then to the photographers and then back to Harrington, who nods, and the rapid shutter sounds ride the breeze around them.

Harrington shields himself at first, almost like he's trying to make a secret escape to the plane. Then, once at the foot of the stairs, he turns back, gets back into the car, re-emerges with a big smile, slow walk, and waves for the photographers, even stopping to pause and pose for a few shots as they shout his name repeatedly. The man is methodical. It makes Eddie wonder if any of the harassed-looking pictures he'd seen of Harrington were real at all.

Eddie takes a few shots from this angle. It might be cool for a reader to have the photographers in the frame for a change and then quickly rushes back up the stairs to capture him getting on the plane.

Once in position, Eddie feels a little strange, a twinge of guilt. Shouldn't he let the guy get settled on the plane before taking his picture? But on the other hand, he did have Harrington's permission to snap whatever he wanted. A flicker of humanising Harrington almost has him stand up out of his crouched position, but people are already boarding around him by that time. Buckley gives him a nod as she starts going over her extra checks. Harrington spots him in the aisle, and a half-smile pinches at his cheek.

"Hi," he says almost too quietly to be heard over the plane's noise and everyone else bustling around.

Eddie raises his eyes from behind the viewfinder, mirrors his smile, "Morning, Mr. Harrington".

"How do you want me?" He asks, gesturing around.

"Uh, just pretend I'm not here," Eddie replies, not tearing his eyes from the camera this time.

"Sure, I'll try my best." Harrington oddly responds and smiles a little wider, and soon enough, everyone is moving around like Eddie isn't even there. He finds a space tucked in between two back-to-back club seats so people can truly go about their business, but not a few minutes in, Harrington disappears through a curtained-off area. Eddie can see everyone settling into their seats, so he finds the nearest empty one and sits down, too.

He'd been on two private jets before one was owned collectively by a band, and the other was chartered by an artist when they first hit the big time. This was something else. Fully rotating and reclining plush seats, a meeting or dining table area, screens everywhere, and everything in whites and occasional thin stripes of pastel or chrome. For such clinical colours, it’s still quite soothing and fresh.

Everyone falls into their small groups on the plane, security in one section, PR in another, and some hair and makeup on standby.

Eddie quickly packs up his camera and tucks it away safely with the rest of his gear. This not being a commercial flight meant you didn’t have to wait for another hundred people to get going, and he’d been biding his time until one of the crew came past and reminded him kindly as they passed him an envelope.

Eddie rolls his eyes. It’s Harrington-branded stationery. Of course, it is. Apparently, a simple Post-it or lined paper would be too far beneath the guy.

Marney’s voice rings in his head. “Don’t fuck this up for us, Ed. Just try and enjoy this for what it is. A holiday to Vegas where occasionally you have to take some pictures, work your editing magic and come home an almost millionaire!”

He takes a deep breath to reset, closes his eyes, counts to ten, and relaxes. He looks at the envelope again. He tries to imagine it's not pretentious, just a little cute thing.

It’s a pale blue-grey, excellent quality feel paper. The border is embossed silver with a little guitar motif in one corner and a Unidyne-style microphone in the other. His name was penned in black ink in the centre. He opens it up and takes out the card.

See you in the sky.

He huffs, puts it back in its envelope and tucks it away in his hip pocket. Eddie puts on his belt as instructed and uses take-off to channel his frustration.

Eddie is not a nervous flier, but he digs his fingers into the arms of the chair and shuts his eyes all the same. Not for nerves, though, just to power through. He thinks about the money and how this wasn’t so hard. In fact, it was easy. It benefited him way more than Harrington. He’d get some general insights and team them with some exclusive shots, and the fans would throw their money at his project, even if Harrington was only a tiny section of it. He’d witnessed how they operated with other such media. When he had a cameo on a TV show or was part of a charity campaign, it was consumed by them to the point of assimilation, and once they’d bled it dry of him, he’d be in something or appearing somewhere else. It was a very smooth operation of drip-feeding fans, and he’d been doing it for years.

He could disappear creatively for a year or two at a time. Didn’t have to offer up a song or tour, just be in the vicinity of a camera. The next thing you know, he’s everywhere again, people playing his old songs, or he’d show up for an appeal and be involved in a comedy skit once a charity target was met or get invited to an awards show. Eddie’s fingers grip tighter into the armrests. He’s so annoyed he knows so much about him, how he’s been haunted by him for so long.

Eddie desperately tries to channel peaceloving-remember-your-processes-Eddie, but unfortunately, he’s been shoved into a closet and locked in by bitter-venomous-Eddie, who whispers conspiracy and gorges on Eddie’s hate and anger.

This guy was a piece of work. Who does this kind of shit? He’s already agreed to the in-flight interview. He doesn’t need to send a fucking reminder.

He feels the bile rise in him again as he thinks about Harrington’s smug face as he signed the back of the note. He grips the arms of the seat harder as the plane is still in ascent.

He forces his mind out of its cesspool of hate, which honestly had a greased-up water slide down into it when it came to people like Harrington. He thinks about times and people when he has purposefully had patience. He even thinks about how they left their last meeting. Harrington should have apologised, but Eddie knew guys like him didn’t hand those out. It was beneath them to fully admit fault. And yet he had tried to excuse his behaviour, and Eddie had forgiven him in the moment. That helps him relax a little. Then, the idea comes to him.

Harrington is just a screaming child at one of his family portrait shoots. They only wanna do what they wanna do but will give a little, providing the bait is sufficient. This much had been proven. Once Eddie accepted the job, Harrington said yes to whatever he’d asked for. Maybe he’ll behave himself if Eddie is sweeter, less businesslike. He didn’t seem to like that Wheeler guy and clearly enjoys being fawned over. Eddie isn’t sure he could go that far, but he could play a softer role. After all, the more Harrington let him in, the more exclusive content his book had. And the more exclusive content in that one section, the more money it would make for Eddie.

His shoulders finally fully relax, and a small smile graces his face as the thought of potentially being completely set for life floods his mind. No more scrimping and scraping by. No more dingy apartments. No more sad little lonely life. He was finally going to be happy, and all he had to do was get through two weeks of occasionally snapping pictures. The rest of the time, he could hang out in his room, say he was editing or something, but just watch movies and luxuriate in whatever fancy hotel Harrington was happy to stay in.

As Eddie levels out, so does the plane. He opens his eyes back into a new patient version of himself, and the seat belt light blinks off.

“Mr Harrington will see you now, Mr Munson,” is said to him gently by one of the prettiest members of cabin crew he’s ever seen. Then he realises he knows him. It’s the guy from the airport hotel. Of course, Eddie would choose to have a one-night stand with a man who just happened to be one of Harrington’s selected crew!

“Oh…uh…hi,” Eddie says awkwardly, and the guy smiles back at him a little bashfully, “I didn’t know you worked for Harrington.”

“Yeah, well, I didn't at the time,” he smiles. Eddie quickly praises the heavens for name tags. Jesse. He looks at the floor and pretends to neaten up some things next to Eddie’s seat, “Not that you asked about my job, or much else for that matter,” the guy lets out a giggle and then presses his lips together, “Come along now, let’s not keep Mr Harrington waiting,” he beckons Eddie to follow him through to the next compartment of the plane. Eddie quickly gathers his equipment bags and follows him down the plane.

Eddie is close to sweating. This was awkward. He’d said he’d call the guy, but he didn’t. Just thought it would be what it was, and that’s it. But now… Jesus Christ… Now, he is wiggling down the aisle in front of him in a uniform that is so snug it leaves little to the imagination. Eddie thought the polo shirt hugging his chest was tempting enough, but this crisp white shirt was something else. He’s pretty confident he saw the outline of a nipple, but now all he can see is that sweet ass being hugged by the navy blue material of his suit trousers. He doesn’t remember much of this guy in the ways of conversation, but he does recall a few non-spoken things they both enjoyed. Eddie almost shudders pleasantly at the notion they might end up in the same hotel as one another and maybe… No! No way! You already mistreated him once , he reprimands himself. He’s not a plaything. He’s a person. So you either ask him out properly, or you forget this. And he is not about to date someone who works for Harrington.

Eddie can’t decide if the wave of horniness that just washed over him was better or worse than being angry. The answer to that comes very swiftly as they move through to where Harrington is.

Everything gets dimmer and darker, to such a degree that Eddie actually tears his eyes away from ogling the attendant in front of him.

The previous light interior is a world away from the private plane interior of Eddie’s teenage dreams that is laid out before him now. Everything is either black, charcoal, or dark wood trim. There is a small black loveseat sitting area to his left, deep like Chesterfields, and to his right, a big bar. Then, looking ahead, two big black executive club seats face one another against the window. He can see Harrington slumped in one, gazing out the window. But real distraction is behind him. A large bed already made up with velvet cushions, fur-looking throws, and the shimmer of silk or satin sheets underneath, all in black.

Eddie is way past teenage awkwardness, but this mixture of happenings might prove to be a little much for him as his eyes trail back over the attendant, who suddenly stops and turns around to give him an easy smile.

“You’re so lucky, Eddie,” Jesse whispers. Oh, Jesus Christ, he remembers his name. Eddie’s innards drop to a new level of cringing, “Not many people get to spend the whole flight with him, and never a man. He must be so excited to work with you. To sit and talk the whole flight?”

Jesse brushes down Eddie's clothes to neaten them up, like one of the proud parents at his photoshoots, before they send in the kids for their portrait. “The girls say he usually doesn’t spend much of his flights talking to anyone, normally preoccupied with some groupie, you know?”

Eddie’s eyes dart to the bed in the corner and then settle back on Jesse’s lips as he talks. He is trying to listen, but it is so difficult to concentrate, not when he’s talking about this, not when it’s this guy in his scandalously tight, unblemished uniform that Eddie can’t seem to stop thinking about ruining. “It’s hardly ever been a guy, let alone a gay guy. So I guess what I’m saying, Eddie is,” he gets a light poke in the chest, and he manages to lift his eyes to Jesse’s, “Don’t fuck this up for us, ok. He’s a very loud ally, considering his mostly conservative fan base. He’s helping,” Jesse’s eyes search his, and Eddie is starting to feel like maybe he doesn’t need to speak to Harrington at all. Perhaps he could get stuck in a bathroom, and Jesse would have to help him out or something. Jesus Christ, Eddie, keep it together. It’s just a cute guy.

“I’ll see you out there,” Jesse winks and moves to the side to barely let Eddie squeeze past, which he doesn’t mind in any way at all when Jesse’s hands guide his hips through the space, one of those said hands then give him a pat on the butt as he makes it past. Eddie sure hopes there is some kind of arctic-level AC he can blast himself with to cool down. Otherwise, a layer will have to go because it is so hot right now.

Eddie dons his family portrait pleasant persona. He puts his friendliest smile on and strolls over to what must be his seat with a cheerful pep in his step.

“Mr Harrington?” Eddie calls out and gives a neighbourly wave.

“Less of the Mr, thanks. Makes me feel all business-y” Harrington smirks and beckons him over with two fingers. He doesn’t get out of his seat or even sit up straight. There is a slight wiggle of adjustment, but that is all.

Eddie sits down in his seat, smile still perfectly in place, for no one to see because Harrington hasn’t even looked at him yet. He’s staring out the window. A little weirded out, Eddie resolves to unpack his camera, dictaphone, notepad and pen onto the small table.

He glances over at Harrington again, who appears quite frankly bored as he looks out of the window, “So am I ok to start recording and set up the camera to frame you so that we can talk and I can randomly snap whenever?” Eddie asks, and that finally gets his attention.

“Sure, sounds good,” Harrington answers unbothered, looking out the window as Eddie sets up the equipment. During setup, his eyes met Jesse’s a few times, and he sent a wink or a quick pout in return, honestly turning him into a giggling middle schooler. Eddie doesn’t remember him being this obviously flirty last time. Maybe for the average person, this might be a bit too obvious or too much, but after all this time, Eddie needed that.

“What do you make of all this so far?” Harrington’s drowsy vocal fry reminds him why he’s here, and he feels almost like he’s caught with his pants down.

“Uh, it’s nice. I mean, it’s great, honestly,” he answers, still making some final adjustments to the tripod with his back to Harrington. However, his eyes still occasionally trail over parts of Jesse he could catch a glimpse of, “Yeah, very nice indeed,” he says absentmindedly.

Eddie rounds the tripod, fixes the camera in place, adjusts for the lighting and takes a test shot, but when he looks at the screen again, Harrington is gone.

“Let me see that one,” Harrington demands and Eddie snaps his head around to find himself at eye level with Harrington’s double-buckled belt. He casts his eyes up and backs up, pressing the button to show the last picture, and Harrington leans down to take a look.

Backed against the side of his seat, Harrington leaning into his space, teamed with the surprise of having a very sexy flight attendant nearby, Eddie's heart pounds fiercely in his chest. He wants to take a much deeper breath, but Harrington is so close he’d hear if he hadn’t already.

Harrington hums happily, “Fuck, you are good at what you do, aren’t you?” He chuckles as he straightens up and backs out of Eddie’s space.

Eddie tries to pull his professional self back to the controls, “You’d hope so, wouldn’t you?” He says with what he hopes is a charming laugh.

Harrington, already relaxed in his seat, smiles up at Eddie for the first time, “I guess I already knew that, though, didn’t I?” He swirls the ice cube around in the tumbler, delicately hanging from where his fingers grip the rim of it. He taps one of his many rings against the glass a few times.

Eddie watches a curtain fly open behind Harrington’s seat. Jesse appears again, seems to take a deep breath, and composes himself neatening his clothes and hair before walking over to them, “Mr Harrington,” Jesse says like he’s absolutely delighted and hasn’t seen him in years, “How may I servi- uh, help?”

Eddie bites his lips together to stifle his laugh at Jesse’s probably Freudian slip. Even though it is absolutely killing him not to poke fun, but he’s not an asshole. He’ll tease him about it later, maybe over text or, better than that, in person.

He hears the leather of the chair as Harrington shifts against it, and that causes him to raise his head to find him holding Jesse’s name tag on his fingertips, “Well, Jesse. Some drinks would be fantastic if you wouldn’t mind.” Eddie watches Jesse’s eyelashes flutter at Harrington and amusedly realises he’s not the only person trying to keep it together on this plane.

“Yes, sir. Right away, what can I get you?” Jesse says eagerly.

“Hmmm. Why don’t you surprise us, huh? I’m sure your taste is excellent,” Harrington lazily smiles up at him, and Eddie doesn’t miss the flush at Jesse’s jaw’s hinge. He turns on his heel and heads toward the bar, leaving Eddie and Harrington alone again, “He’s new.” Harrington’s voice pulls Eddie out of his daze, staring at Jesse’s body as he goes.

“What?” Eddie accidentally blurts out.

Harrington laughs and points a finger over his shoulder without looking back, keeping his eyes on Eddie, “The Jock. He’s new, so bear with him. He’ll get a handle on things in no time at all, I’m sure.”

It’s confusing to Eddie why anyone inexperienced would be allowed anywhere near Harrington as he watches Jesse fumble with a few things at the bar, “This his first flight? Working on your jet, I mean.” Eddie asks.

Harrington takes the last sip from his current glass and puts it down, “Doubtful, I’ve had him up here a few times. Maybe it’s you making him nervous?”

“Wh-why would I make him nervous?” Eddie tries to ask like it's the weirdest thing in the world, and it only makes Harrington chuckle.

“Or maybe it's the other way around?” he hums, raising an eyebrow and looking out the window.

Eager to get off this topic of conversation, Eddie changes the subject, “Nah. So I thought, you’ve given me this whole flight, but I’d rather get the most out of it. I’ve been told most people don't get this opportunity, so I do not want to squander it. So if I just reel off some topics I’d like to ask questions about, and if any are a no-go-”

“Eddie,” Steve rasps his name and turns to look him in the eyes, “You can ask me anything you want. I have nothing to hide,” he says, and Eddie probably thinks that's true. He’s probably answered every question someone could think of by now.

“Alright,” Eddie flicks through his notebook and glances back up at Harrington again, and he thinks maybe he looks better, not as exhausted, eyes not like saucers. He kind of looks like he might be human today. His eyes flick back to his notebook. He decides to start with the required questions for his book and then see where they go. As long as he has this answer, he has the quote for the page, “So how about how you got into music?”

Harrington doesn’t reply just looks at Eddie and then at the table between them. Eddie figures he hasn’t heard him and leans forward to repeat the question louder over the plane noise.

Harrington smiles and leans forward, too, which almost sends Eddie reeling back in his seat. Instead, he stays still, feels the heat of Harrington entering his space, and regrettably gets a waft of some fantastic cologne he’s wearing. Something leathery, smoky and warm, such a heady concoction that Eddie almost closes his eyes to enjoy it fully. But Harrington’s eyes urge his to follow them down to the table, where he reaches out and taps the dictaphone to record.

Eddie laughs nervously, “Oh, yeah. Thanks.” That nervousness from their first meeting rises in him again. He can’t mess this up. He doesn't want to impress Harrington per se, of course not, but he wouldn’t mind a stamp of approval to show all the other people who worship the ground he walks on so he can get more business and his life back.

“You mean this career or music in general?” Steve asks, tilting his head slightly as he slumps back in his seat, hand dangling between his spread legs. Eddie presses the button on the remote for the camera. The shutter sound goes off, but Harrington doesn't flinch.

“Let's start with this career and circle back, maybe?” Eddie says, tapping his pen on his pad, “I know you were successful in modelling and then made a move to music, but from your perspective, how did that come about?”

“You’ve done your homework on me, I see,” Steve smirks and Eddie kinda hates it. Still, something about doing this for his own project, his book, doesn't make him hate it quite as much, “Well, I was walking a red carpet for some awards event that I had nothing to do with, some film thing, don't remember,” he says blasé, “And someone was asking everyone what their secret talent was. I said I didn’t have one, that none of my talents were a secret,” he laughs at his own joke, “but the interviewer was pretty hot, and she pressed me a little, and I mentioned I played guitar.” He looks wistfully out the window, “She did a lot more than press me later.”

Eddie can’t imagine what it's like to be this guy. Does he just sleep with every woman he takes a shine to? Or is it all of the women he meets? He wonders how many have turned him down.

Eddie's gaze flicks to Jesse, who is finalising the drinks by garnishing him, and he’s thinking about if he’d get to engage in a press of his own later.

“Thirsty, Eddie?” Harrington asks with a straight face, “You’re welcome to anything you want, you know. Anything you can see, just help yourself, or ask our buddy, Jesse James, to get it for you. I’m sure he’d happily be of… service,” on that last word, Eddie sees something interesting, a smile of mischief maybe spreads across Harrington’s face. It’s then he realises Harrington hadn’t missed Jesse’s faux pax earlier at all and had been polite enough to overlook it. Eddie’s face breaks into a grin and a small laugh. He doesn’t want to laugh with Harrington, but he’s been keeping his amusement about it under wraps for so long now he can’t help himself.

“Here you go, gentlemen. Two old fashioneds,” Jesse says proudly and gently sets down the drinks. Eddie does not miss Jesse's sultry look when he bends down to place his tumbler beside him. Oh, he was going to find him later, that's for sure. He picked these drinks on purpose. Eddie looks down at his drink and notices the distinct lack of cherries and just the orange peel set in there. Jesse remembered.

As Jesse goes to leave, Harrington reaches out and taps him on the arm, “Is Mr Munson not permitted a little fruit with his drink, like I am?” He smiles up at Jesse, and Eddie watches Jesse full-on stall. Jesse loosens his collar a little with his finger, but his eyes stay locked with Harrington, and Eddie watches his lips press together as he swallows hard. Eddie feels his brow crease with annoyance as the realisation washes over him.

Jesse’s hot for Harrington!

The pep talk from earlier had nothing to do with Eddie being a rep for the gay community and everything to do with Jesse wanting not to be associated with a terrible flight for Harrington.

It’s not jealousy, he feels. It's something else as he looks between himself and Harrington. It’s alarm. They were nothing alike. Sure, they both had tattoos and were a little on the thinner side, but that’s not enough for a type, is it? But that was about it…they dressed somewhat similarly, but Steve was all designer. Other than that, nothing…except that they both had brown eyes and long lashes and…

No. No way. He was nothing like Harrington! His internal argument rages on whilst his face wears a slight frown and a smile.

If anything, Jesse was a variation of a younger Harrington before the lifestyle got him. Eddie screws up his face at acknowledging that, then looks between them nervously.

No. He doesn’t even like Harrington. That was dumb. His brain is just getting scrambled because he’s thinking about Jesse from two weeks ago. That was all.

“It’s actually fine. I don’t like the cherries anyway,” Eddie forces a smile over at them.

“Well,” Harrington looks surprised at Eddie, then beams at Jesse, “How about that? Must be your lucky day.”

Eddie watches Jesse steady himself on the side of Harrington’s seat, “It sure is!” Jesse replies with the biggest dopey grin on his face. Harrington looks happily back at him expectantly until the penny drops of Jesse, “Right, yeah. I’ll just be over there if you want me- need anything, I mean,” he quickly corrects himself and leaves them again. Eddie’s eyes wantonly trail after him as he does.

“I can put in a good word for you if you want?” Harrington’s voice disrupts Eddie’s thoughts.

“Ah, sorry, no. It’s-“ Eddie stumbles over his words in a fluster, “I think he’s more into you, from what I can see,” Eddie adds, eager to shift the spotlight back to Harrington.

“You think?” Harrington says, settling back in his seat, “Sweet.” He adds with a smile and turns back to the window.

“Wait, doesn’t that bother you?”

“Why would it bother me?”

“Uh, because you’re a straight guy, and he is clearly not. Most straight guys don’t like that.”

“Well, maybe I’m not like most straight guys, you know? Or maybe, as arrogant as it sounds, I’m just used to a whole spectrum of people having a thing for me?” Steve swirls his drink before sipping some, “It’s nice to be liked, you know?”

Hearing Harrington own his arrogance felt a little strange to Eddie. He’d half expected him to make some derogatory remark or for him to just brush it off. Ever curious, Eddie wonders if he could poke at that a little. Harrington did say he had nothing to hide and he could ask him anything.

“Do you often feel disliked?” Eddie asks very cautiously.

“More often than you’d think,” Harrington answers somberly, eyes still observing the skies, “But that’s just the price of all this, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, can’t please everyone, I guess,” Eddie adds, still curious but daren't pry deeper as he wasn’t after a chat show sob piece here. His comment gets Harrington to turn toward him with a patented half smile.

“No. You can’t. Even though it’s magically expected of you,”

“What do you mean?”

“Once you hit this level of being in the public eye, being allowed to err, to be human is taken away. You made a wise choice at the beginning, keeping private and off-socials, that I couldn’t,”

If not for his curiosity at this seemingly more vulnerable side of Harrington, he might be tempted to snap the air at him. Tell him exactly why he is off socials, and it has nothing to do with being wise and everything to do with his insane horde of fans.

Eddie can’t resist what a tasty morsel this might be for his book, Harrington and the Price of Fame. However, it feels sneaky, so he gestures to the dictaphone, “We’re still recording, you know,”

“I know,” Harrington says as his eyes cast to the floor and then back up to meet Eddie’s eyes, “Is this not the kind of thing you wanted for your book? Insight, exclusives, a tortured artist?” Harrington asks, looking away again, and Eddie feels a glimmer of pity for him. This must be his day-to-day, figuring out what people want from him and providing it so he can continue living this lifestyle. Eddie offers him another pass.

“Well, that's not the purpose of my book, and it is thoughtful of you to offer that up, but I’d rather it was just your truth, no agenda on my part. I mean, apart from one question, I need to know the answer to.”

Harrington looks him up and down, takes a deep breath, leans forward in his seat, drink in hand, elbows on his knees, “What question is that then?” he asks gently, which strikes Eddie as unusual.

“What does music mean to you?” Eddie answers pleasantly but watches Steve’s soft expression fall to something pained momentarily before his smile returns.

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

Songs that inspired this chapter:

Stripped - Depeche Mode Come as you are - Nirvana

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #rockstar!Steve Harrington #rockstar!SteveHarrington #photographer!Eddie Munson #photographer!EddieMunson #steddie au #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #fanfiction #steddie fanfiction #steddie fan fiction #madaboutmunsonITICHBS #madaboutmunson #enemies to lovers #alternate universe

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