#because the detector is the same

[kagiura-akira]

I'm gonna say something controversial because it goes against everything I stand for regarding doing research for oneself, but there is nothing I hate more—as a chemist for a contract research organization—than when a client "does their own research."

As in, when a salesperson or even like a small time CEO or CFO looks up how something works and tries to understand it but fails fantastically.

My guy, you hired me to test your samples. I don't need you to tell me how methylcobalamin interferes with arsenic on an ICPMS. If you think Google AI knows better than me, I dare you to click on the links of the summaries it provides and tell me WHERE the skimmed content says this bullshit.

[kebriones]

when my grandma dies im gonna excavate the entire field and find all the ancient stuff and then i'll buy my uncle's field that's next to ours and excavate that too. and then i'll buy the neighbor's field and excavate that too. and then

[savage-rhi]

Magenta and a rum & coke.

[paradife-loft]

so this "ethics & legal requirements for research involving human subjects" course I'm doing for class rn hasn't figured out that you don't hyphenate "cisgender," and yet has still somehow heard of "trans broken arm syndrome" and wants to inform us about it being a source of distrust in medical professionals among some trans people. what's happening here....

[softgrungeprophet]

i have to say i really do agree in general with posts on the need to educate oneself and that you are responsible to some extent for continued learning and growth but i do think dismissing the issues with the US public school system is unhelpful especially because frankly, positioning education in the context of what is functionally, as foucault noted, Prison Lite (especially for the black and brown and particularly poor kids) does not encourage curiosity and often takes kids who like to learn and teaches them to hate it

i mean even just college, how many people get burnt out by college and like... stop reading? and that's a comparatively privileged (and extremely pressured) form of paid education, not like underfunded public elementary schools or whatever where for example kids in special ed are simply not taught and IEPs are in constant violation (college has a lot of the same structural issues though, especially for disabled students and students of color)

there is a powerful inequality in the US school system and i don't think it's particularly useful to simply pretend that every flaw in ignorance is some kind of ingrained aspect of "stupid bad people who don't pay attention" like i'm sorry that most 14 year olds don't respond well to being trapped inside a building without air conditioning for 6 hours a day, sitting in hard chairs, using textbooks that are 20 years out of date, and if you have a learning disability or adhd or anything like that you basically get abandoned.

i don't say this as some kind of like, free excuse for people to not ever try to learn anything but it is very much a part of the larger explanation and I don't think you can really talk about self education if you are completely unwilling to acknowledge that there is more to it than people just being lazy lol especially considering the socially charged implications of productivity, "laziness," education and poverty as they entangle

also just like... if you refuse to acknowledge a problem and make it a wholly personal issue then you are also refusing to correct the very real inequalities and issues that do exist.

[thegothicviking]

Y'all...SERIOUSLY!

@franwikema @sonic-counselor

[whatsagirltoblogabout]

I'm at the conspiracy theory stage of my White Collar hyperfixation.

In the Season 3 premiere (3.01 On Guard), Neal's tie is sliced during a fencing match and he's forced to put on a new one at the WC office. He puts the new tie around his neck, but then takes a file out of the rack on his desk and moves it to a different part of the rack before starting to tie his tie. Does he have a mirror or something hidden in his file rack??? Was this established or hinted at somewhere else, either in the series or in behind the scenes content? And if there isn't a mirror, then WHY DID HE DO THAT???

[hauntingblue]

JINBEEE I LOVE YOU!!!! JINBEEEEEEEEE

[thepandalion]

every once in a while I get reminded that I can do random maths in my head really easily and it almost throws me before I remember I used to want to try astrophysics until I learned how competitive it is

anyways I just saw the number 96 (as in, 96 comments on a fic) and immediately went "oh, thats... 8 times 12, right?"

[chuplayswithfire]

sometimes you realize you have retained too much trivia about the media you love and you realize this because someone makes a joke post about wolverine going through airport security and laughingly speculating about how that goes

and you can only JUST barely stop yourself from informing them that actually in uncanny x-men (1963 run) #158 this very topic was covered, because wolverine is expected to pass through a metal detector as part of an infiltration mission where the x-men are undercover, and is able to produce his medic card from service with the canadian military/special services to attest that a "good chunk" of his skeleton is metal prosthetics from war wounds, and that this same excuse would more than likely be used for modern airports

and you stop this because you know! they are just making a joke! it's a joke! but you KNOW

[shotmrmiller]

it turned to smut in seconds, i cannot control my own hands, ok. 18+ (implication of breeding kink or something and simon's a jealous boy)

ex-husband simon who signed the divorce papers without a fight. it'd stung, you're not gonna lie, but it needed to be done and the fact that he didn't make a big fuss about it made things easier for you physically. (emotionally you were in shambles because did he not even want to try and fight for you?)

he comes over only on the weekends when he's on leave.

he's a good father to his boys. he takes them to their softball games when he can, buys them the ice cream and takes them toy shopping.

and then there's a sharp knock at your door on a wednesday afternoon.

"simon?"

he walks in like he owns the place, which technically he does- even pays the mortgage because there's no way you would be able to afford living here with your own measly income.

"what's this the boys are tellin' me 'bout a man bein' in here?" his voice is calm, steady. but you know simon better than you know yourself, and he's furious.

"i- i'm not sure-" he swipes his hand in the air and your mouth clicks shut.

"don't lie t'me, poppet, or i'll be findin' him myself an' you really don't want tha'."

what man? there hasn't been any since the divorce! you're digging through your memories, scrambling to find what the hell he's talking about when-

"oh! it's the plumber!" you take steadying breath. "i called a plumber on sunday. i needed the kitchen sink fixed."

his dark eyes are piercing, so sharp they could cut. simon's always been a walking lie detector, and it's unnerving to be on the opposite end of that analyzing stare.

he nods imperceptibly, then flicks his gaze to behind you, over your head. "show me."

you scoff indignantly. "show you what? the bloody sink?"

simon wordlessly heads to the kitchen and his knees pop as he kneels-

he's actually checking the fucking sink.

with a grunt, he leans his head into the cabinet and twist awkwardly which is no doubt causing a familiar pain to flare up in his lower back. you can't help but wince in sympathy.

lo and behold, there's a shiny, white elbow in the middle of the rest of the dirty, scratched pipe.

he hums, and rises to his feet, closing the cabinet with his leg.

simon approaches you slowly, fingertips touching the kitchen island as he rounds it. "palms flat on the counter, sweetheart."

oh. oh you know exactly what that means, and your pussy throbs almost in reflex. months without his touch and your body still responds the same.

your protest already at the tip of your tongue, almost involuntarily because principles, but he sees right through you, as he's always done.

"jus' a reward for all o' your hard work. takin' care o' the boys is a stressful job all on its own." his worn hand cups the underside of your jaw tenderly. "aren't i always good t'ya?"

your exhales are weak, just like your resolve. "okay."

simon's eyes glint with satisfaction as he lifts his hand, index pointing upwards and twirls it in a slow, deliberate motion.

your palms are flat on the counter when he curls his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and knickers, tugging them downward.

they're flat on the counter when he lowers himself to his knees and taps the inside of your foot, indicating you to widen your stance.

they're curled into fists when his breath puffs against your slick cunt and his warm tongue slides through your folds, drawing lazy circles around your bud. a tingle of arousal shoots up your spine, his mouth sparking a fire right under your navel.

they're reaching for simon, nails sinking into the delicate skin of his wrist as your back bows when you come on his tongue, vision spotted with black, blurry dots and white hot ecstasy coursing through your veins.

your hands are now crossed at the base of your spine, your cheek pressing into the cool kitchen counter as he bends you over it.

"15 minutes before the boys are home from school. tha's plenty o'time, yeah?"

a rhetorical, if you've ever heard one.

your knuckles stain white as you clench your fists at the heavy, hot weight of his manhood stretching your walls to take him in, a sweet burn that you've always loved. he's gentle but sure, bottoming out in one smooth stroke that pushes the air out of your lungs. the sibilant hiss simon lets out is never fails to elicit a whimper out of you.

"fuck," he groans. "i could stay inside this pretty pussy forever."

and the dirty talk. how much you've missed it.

"would you like tha', pet? be inside of ya til you don't know where i end and you begin?"

a garbled mhm slips past your lips. your head already empty at just the sensation of being so unbearably full that it feels like you're tearing at the seams.

"another time, then, since the kids'll be home soon."

he begins to move, shallow but firm thrusts that drag his cock along your nerves deliciously- a sure fire way of getting you to climax around him in minutes.

your walls begin to squeeze down as the knot in your stomach tightens, and he lets go of your wrists, looping an arm around your waist and straightens you- his broad chest to your much smaller back.

his clever fingers wind downwards, and rub precise, little circles on your slippery clit, and it's all too much, you're hurtling toward the precipice at neck break speed- "god, simon, please-"

his pace never falters, not his hips nor his fingers as your moans begin to rise in pitch. "i'll get ya there, love."

he does, he gets you to your highest peak- blindingly intense- one that chokes the very breath out of you and slackens your knees. "i've got ya."

there's no strength left in you to brace for the spine-jarring thrusts he gives after, the only thing keeping you from sprawling forward is the arm that's looped around you as he pulls you to him.

"on anything?" he rumbles.

your ears ring at that because he can't possibly- your head shakes unbidden.

"good."

the last four thrusts are heavy, backed by his weight, and he smothers a loud groan into the junction of your shoulder as he finishes inside of you- thick, viscous cum filling you until it begins to drip and fall to the floor with an audible plop.

he presses tender little kisses to your sweaty shoulder and nips the side of your neck. "just in time."

the clock on the stove says 5 minutes before the bus gets there.

he helps you redress, chuckling under his breath when you won't look him in the eye. "i'll get the kids, go get cleaned up."

the knot in your chest loosens when you hear the boys' laughter at seeing their father on the driveway. it loosens when simon picks both of them up, one in each arm, and glances up at you as you look down at them from the window.

heat licks up your cheeks when he gives you a smarmy little grin.

idiot.

[ilovolderman]

Dinner Interrogation

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Sam hosts a dinner to uncover the truth about you and Bucky’s relationship.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, lasagna, lie detector abuse

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What". it doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8. thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

Sam Wilson was finished pretending.

Tonight, he was pulling out all the stops: Dinner. But not just dinner. A full-on sting operation with lasagna and lightly weaponized appetizers.

This wasn’t just a meal. This was war. Operation: Love Actually (But They're Lying).

"Casual, not suspicious" was the theme. He wore a turtleneck for authority. And the guest list? Handpicked for psychological pressure:

You (suspect #1)

Bucky  (suspect #2)

Sam (the host, investigator, and emotional wreck)

Natasha (because she lives for drama)

Tony Stark (for tech backup and snark)

Steve Rogers (for “dad energy” and moral guilt leverage)

And Peter Parker, who thought he was just invited for lasagna and board games.

The living room was dimly lit. The table was set. The lasagna was pre-ordered. And in the center of it all, hidden beneath an innocuous decorative centerpiece? A portable StarkTech lie detection device.

Sam checked it one more time. Still green. Still calibrated. Still ready to catch romantic criminals.

You arrived first. Oversized hoodie. Sleepy smile. Suspiciously content.

Sam narrowed his eyes. "That hoodie is two inches too long in the sleeves. EXHIBIT J."

Bucky arrived a few minutes later. Entered through the kitchen like this was a sitcom. Casual. Too casual.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Staggered entry,” he whispered to himself. “Classic deflection tactic.”

Steve gave Sam a look. “This is a friendly dinner, right?”

Sam didn't blink. “Oh, it’s friendly… to the truth.”

Dinner began.

You sat across from each other. Just far enough to look innocent. Close enough to smile at each other when no one was looking. Too choreographed. Too coordinated.

The lasagna was passed around like a peace offering. Peter asked three times if it had walnuts. (It didn’t. He still didn’t trust it.)

Then Sam stood.

“Game time,” he said with a smile that had war crimes energy. “We’re doing a little truth circle. Like spin-the-bottle but without the bottle. Or the fun. Or the spinning.”

Tony groaned. “Oh great, here comes summer camp counselor Sam.”

Steve frowned. “Is this really necessary?”

Natasha was already pouring herself wine. “Shhh. This is better than HBO.”

Beneath the table, the lie detector pulsed.

Sam began.

“Alright. Easy question. Bucky—ever been in love?”

Bucky gave a slow shrug. “Once or twice.”

Green.

 “Recently?” Sam pressed.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Define recently.”

“Within the last six months.”

Bucky just smirked. “Hard to say. Time’s a social construct.”

Still green.

Peter blinked. “This feels intense for lasagna night.”

Tony sipped his drink. “You have no idea.”

Sam clenched his jaw. “Right. Fine. You,” he pointed at you. “Same question.”

You looked positively angelic. “What, if I’ve been in love?”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely.”

Green.

“Recently?”

You tilted your head. “In a cosmic sense?”

“IN THE LAST SIX MONTHS.”

You smiled. “Possibly.”

Green.

“Can i go next?” Peter asked

Sam ignored him. “Okay. Next question. Ever kissed someone who lives in this building?”

You and Bucky shared a brief glance.

Then, in perfect sync: “No comment.”

Green.

Sam nearly flipped the table. “WHY IS ‘NO COMMENT’ STILL GREEN?!”

Natasha actually laughed into her wine glass. “It’s calibrated to detect lies,” she said, sipping wine. “Not cheeky evasion.”

“Then they are hiding something!” Sam barked, pointing at you “That proves it!”

Bucky leaned back, arms crossed. “Proves we’re smart. Not guilty.”

You bit your lip to hide a smile.

Sam rounded the table. He pointed to your hoodie. “That is HIS hoodie.”

You raised your brows. “Is it?”

Bucky shrugged. “All hoodies look the same.”

Natasha muttered, “Lies. That’s his ‘Wednesday hoodie.’ I’ve seen him fold it.”

Sam snapped his fingers. “HA! COLLATERAL CONFIRMATION.”

You smiled serenely. “Or maybe we just do laundry on the same day.”

Peter whispered to Steve, “This is better than that time Vision tried to cook.”

Sam glared. “Alright. Final question. And I want both of you to answer. Clearly. Slowly. With eye contact.”

He paused for effect.

“Are. You. Dating.”

You both paused.

Then turned to each other.

Then to Sam.

And in the exact same deadpan voice: “No.”

Green.

Sam stared at the device. Then at you. Then at the ceiling. Then back at the device.

“I’ve been betrayed by science.”

Bucky leaned forward. “You okay, man?”

“No!” Sam snapped. “I’m living in a romantic Truman Show and none of you are helping!”

Tony patted his back. “Want some wine?”

“I want answers!”

From under the table, the lie detector shorted out with a sad little pop. Probably from emotional overload.

Peter leaned over to Natasha. “Do you think I could fake-date someone for this kind of dramatic energy?”

Natasha didn’t even look up. “You’d crack in three hours.”

You stood and stretched. “Well, this was enlightening. Thanks for dinner, Sam.”

Sam stood, pointing dramatically. “This isn’t over! You hear me? You can lie to the machine. But you can’t lie to me forever!”

Bucky stood too. “Wanna bet?”

You both started walking toward the door.

Sam pointed wildly. “They’re leaving at the same time!”

Peter: “So?”

Sam: “They didn’t come together!”

Natasha: “Neither did your sanity.”

The door closed behind you.

Sam collapsed into his chair.

Five steps out the door. You both broke. Laughter exploded between you like a popped balloon.

Bucky slung his arm over your shoulders as you leaned into him, giggling helplessly.

“That—” you wheezed, “—was actually cruel.”

He grinned, crooked and smug. “He’s going to short-circuit in his sleep.”

You gave him a sideways look. “The lie detector literally did.”

“Friday probably auto-filed it under 'emotional casualties.’”

You both collapsed into laughter again, and after a moment, he held out his hand with that familiar spark in his eyes.

“C’mon. Lets go to our spot.”

He led you up onto the building’s roof. The door creaked open and the city met you with open arms — the soft hum of traffic below, the wind gentle in your hair, and a sky stretched out like a quiet secret. The rooftop was empty, peaceful. The kind of place that felt like it belonged to you and no one else.

Bucky pulled off his hoodie and draped it over your shoulders without a word. You didn’t even protest, just slid your arms into the sleeves and hugged it close.

It smelled like him. Warm. Safe. You sat down against the low wall at the edge, legs stretched in front of you, and he sat beside you, one arm around your shoulders like it had every right to be there.

Silence settled between you again.  but the good kind. The kind that felt earned. Easy.

“I’m perfect,” you said after a while, answering the question he hadn’t yet asked.

Bucky turned his head toward you, a little surprised.

“I just… I don’t love pretending around them,” you admitted, looking out at the skyline. “I mean, I know we’re not lying. Not really. But… it kind of feels like we are. Like we’re sneaking out after curfew.”

He was quiet for a second. Then: “We don’t have to pretend forever.”

“I know.” You leaned your head on his shoulder. “But it’s also kind of fun.”

 “Very fun,” he agreed. “Especially when you get that smug look.”

You blinked up at him. “What smug look?”

He grinned. “That one. The one that says ‘we made out in the stairwell and Sam has no idea.’”

You groaned, laughing into his shoulder. “We are going to be the reason he needs therapy.”

“Worth it.”

Bucky leaned down and kissed your forehead. Then your nose. Then finally your lips—soft and lingering, like you had all the time in the world. His hand cupped your cheek as your fingers tangled in the hem of his shirt. When he pulled back, you stayed close.

“Think they’ll ever figure it out?” you whispered.

He looked at you like you were his whole world. “I kind of hope not.”

You laughed softly and leaned against him, your hand finding his, your fingers slipping into the spaces like they belonged there. Above you, stars peeked through the clouds, and below, the city buzzed on like it didn’t know your little secret.

From far below, through a cracked window, Sam’s voice echoed faintly into the night:

“FRIDAY, CROSS-REFERENCE EVERY PHOTO OF THEM FROM THE PAST YEAR. I WANT BLINK RATES. I WANT STANCE ANALYSIS. I WANT SHADOWS CHECKED FOR HAND-HOLDING.”

You leaned your head against Bucky’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “We’re safe.”

Back inside, Sam stood triumphantly at the whiteboard he had forcibly dragged into the living room, the wheels squeaking on the hardwood floor as if the entire house was questioning his sanity.

Natasha leaned lazily against the wall, wine glass in hand, her expression somewhere between bemused and concerned.

Peter and Steve were seated at the dining table, playing Scrabble — although Peter had already exhausted every single letter in his limited vocabulary to spell out variations of “Stucky.” (He was still trying to get “Stucky” onto the board despite Steve pretended not to know what it meant.)

Meanwhile, Tony, as usual, was on the couch, projecting photos into the air with what could only be described as a mix of disappointment and genuine curiosity. He flipped through a series of images with the skill of someone who had spent years perfecting the art of snooping.

"Okay," Tony said, clicking through the photos on his holographic display like a man on a mission. "Three feet apart in May. 1.7 feet apart in July. September? Clearly sharing one churro. No context. But I’m sure that was more than a snack.”

Sam scowled at the screen, scribbling furiously on the whiteboard like he was composing the next great espionage novel. “Okay, okay,” he muttered to himself, pulling down a string of yarn across various photos of you and Bucky, as if it was going to somehow solve the mystery. "I need a new plan. A better plan.”

Tony glanced over at him, the kind of look only someone who knew Sam for way too long could pull off. “What’s your next move? Secretly record their Netflix history and analyze their most-watched shows for clues?”

Sam paused for a moment, considering it. Then he snapped his fingers. “...Actually, that could work.”

Natasha slowly lowered her glass, an expression of disbelief dawning on her face. “Sam. You’re kidding, right?”

Sam stood back, “Get ready,” he said ominously. “This will work. I will finally know the truth.”

Natasha looked at the others with a half-smile, then back at Sam. “You’ve officially lost it.”

Tony nodded sagely, popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth. “I feel like we should all start taking bets on whether Sam will completely implode by the end of this.”

Sam, grinning maniacally, “Let’s just see who cracks first.”

next part

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[eikotheblue]

How do you *accidentally* make a programming language?

Oh, it's easy! You make a randomizer for a game, because you're doing any% development, you set up the seed file format such that each line of the file defines an event listener for a value change of an uberstate (which is an entry of the game's built-in serialization system for arbitrary data that should persiste when saved).

You do this because it's a fast hack that lets you trigger pickup grants on item finds, since each item find always will correspond with an uberstate change. This works great! You smile happily and move on.

There's a small but dedicated subgroup of users who like using your randomizer as a canvas! They make what are called "plandomizer seeds" ("plandos" for short), which are seed files that have been hand-written specifically to give anyone playing them a specific curated set of experiences, instead of something random. These have a long history in your community, in part because you threw them a few bones when developing your last randomizer, and they are eager to see what they can do in this brave new world.

A thing they pick up on quickly is that there are uberstates for lots more things than just item finds! They can make it so that you find double jump when you break a specific wall, or even when you go into an area for the first time and the big splash text plays. Everyone agrees that this is neat.

It is in large part for the plando authors' sake that you allow multiple line entries for the same uberstate that specify different actions - you have the actions run in order. This was a feature that was hacked into the last randomizer you built later, so you're glad to be supporting it at a lower level. They love it! It lets them put multiple items at individual locations. You smile and move on.

Over time, you add more action types besides just item grants! Printing out messages to your players is a great one for plando authors, and is again a feature you had last time. At some point you add a bunch for interacting with player health and energy, because it'd be easy. An action that teleports the player to a specific place. An action that equips a skill to the player's active skill bar. An action that removes a skill or ability.

Then, you get the brilliant idea that it'd be great if actions could modify uberstates directly. Uberstates control lots of things! What if breaking door 1 caused door 2 to break, so you didn't have to open both up at once? What if breaking door 2 caused door 1 to respawn, and vice versa, so you could only go through 1 at a time? Wouldn't that be wonderful? You test this change in some simple cases, and deploy it without expecting people to do too much with it.

Your plando authors quickly realize that when actions modify uberstates, the changes they make can trigger other actions, as long as there are lines in their files that listen for those. This excites them, and seems basically fine to you, though you do as an afterthought add an optional parameter to your uberstate modification action that can be used to suppress the uberstate change detector, since some cases don't actually want that behavior.

(At some point during all of this, the plando authors start hunting through the base game and cataloging unused uberstates, to be used as arbitrary variables for their nefarious purposes. You weren't expecting that! Rather than making them hunt down and use a bunch of random uberstates for data storage, you sigh and add a bunch of explicitly-unused ones for them to play with instead.)

Then, your most arcane plando magician posts a guide on how to use the existing systems to set up control flow. It leverages the fact that setting an uberstate to a value it already has does not trigger the event listener for that uberstate, so execution can branch based on whether or not a state has been set to a specific value or not!

Filled with a confused mixture of pride and fear, you decide that maybe you should provide some kind of native control flow structure that isn't that? And because you're doing a lot of this development underslept and a bit past your personal Balmer peak, the first idea that you have and implement is conditional stops, which are actions that halt processing of a multiple-action-chain if an uberstate is [less than, equal to, greater than] a given value.

The next day, you realize that your seed specification format now can, while executing an action chain, read from memory, write to memory, branch based on what it finds in memory, and loop. It can simulate a turing machine, using the uberstates as tape. You set out to create a format by which your seed generator could talk to your client mod, and have ended up with a turing complete programming language. You laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

[wroetolando]

𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙴𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 | 𝙻𝙽𝟺

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: lando norris x fem!reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: the one where the world doesn’t know you’re an amputee, but lando does—and he helps in all the little ways that matter, until one day, a fall at silverstone reveals everything

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰: apocalypse - cigarettes after sex

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: none!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

You never expected Lando to treat you any differently when he found out about your prosthetic leg. You’d been prepared for hesitation, for awkward questions, maybe even for pity. But you got none of that.

Instead, you got Lando Norris—the same goofy, teasing, fiercely protective man he always was. The one who made you laugh until your stomach hurt, the one who knew exactly how you liked your tea, and the one who never, not once, made your prosthetic feel like a limitation.

The fans didn’t know. Not because you were ashamed, but because it wasn’t something you talked about publicly. To Lando, it was just a part of you—something he adapted to without hesitation, in all the little ways that mattered.

They didn’t see those moments.

They didn’t see the way he naturally adjusted his pace to match yours when you were walking through the paddock. Or how he always carried a small first-aid kit in his backpack, just in case your prosthetic irritated your skin. They didn’t see how he looked at you—not with pity, but with absolute, unwavering love.

But one day, the world found out.

And everything changed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The Way He Walked

Lando always walked on your left side.

At first, you thought it was a coincidence. He never brought it up, never made a show of it, but it was always the same. Whether you were strolling down pit lane, navigating a crowded paddock, or walking through an airport, he positioned himself so he could be closest to your prosthetic.

In case you lost your balance. In case the ground was uneven. In case you needed just a little extra stability.

One day, you finally called him out on it.

“You always walk on my left,” you mused as you strolled through London together, your fingers laced with his.

Lando glanced down at you, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. So?”

“So,” you echoed, narrowing your eyes playfully. “You do it on purpose.”

He shrugged, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “It’s just instinct now. I like knowing I’m there if you need me.”

Your heart melted right there on the pavement.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The Airport Routine

You hated airport security.

The extra steps, the awkward stares—it was exhausting. You’d gotten used to it over the years, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

Lando made it easier.

Whenever you traveled together, he had a system. He held both of your passports, carried your bags, and kept an arm loosely around you as you approached security. He knew the drill—how you had to remove your prosthetic sometimes, how the metal detectors would go off, how TSA agents could be unpredictable in their reactions.

One time, in Miami, an agent asked you to walk through without it.

Lando tensed beside you, his protective instincts flaring, but he didn’t say anything. Not yet.

You steadied yourself, taking a slow, practiced step forward, trying not to let the discomfort show. But Lando saw. He always saw.

And before you could even reach for your prosthetic, he was already crouched down, lifting it gently, handing it back to you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The agent stared. You sighed. Lando just smiled.

“All good, love?” he asked, helping you adjust.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He pressed a quick kiss to your temple. “Always.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Race Weekend Adjustments

Lando’s world moved at 300 km/h. Yours didn’t.

Race weekends were chaotic—crowds, cameras, endless walking. You adapted, of course, but Lando adapted with you.

He always made sure McLaren had a seat for you nearby. If you were standing for too long, he noticed before you even said anything. If you were walking too much, he suggested a “spontaneous” coffee break. If your prosthetic was irritating your skin after hours on your feet, he disappeared and returned with bandages and cooling gel like he’d been preparing for it all week.

One time, in Austria, you didn’t even realize you were limping slightly until Lando gently steered you toward a private hospitality lounge.

“Sit,” he said simply, nudging you onto the couch.

You started to protest, but he knelt down in front of you, hands ghosting over your leg. “Does it hurt?”

“A little,” you admitted. “It’s just rubbing weird today.”

Lando nodded, already digging into his backpack. “Good thing I came prepared.”

You blinked as he pulled out a small roll of bandages and a cooling spray. “You just… carry that around?”

He smirked, tapping his temple. “I’m a man of many talents.”

Your chest ached in the best way.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The Day the World Found Out

It happened at Silverstone.

You were in the McLaren garage, standing behind the engineers, watching as Lando prepared for his home race. The energy was electric, the fans chanting his name just outside.

Then it happened.

One second, you were fine. The next, your foot slipped on a slick spot near the garage entrance. Your balance wavered, your body tilting before you could react—

And suddenly, you were on the ground.

It wasn’t dramatic, but it was noticeable. The people around you turned, startled.

Lando was at your side instantly.

“Hey, hey—are you okay?” His hands were firm but gentle as they helped you sit up, his voice tight with worry.

You nodded quickly, cheeks burning as you adjusted your leg. “Yeah, just slipped.”

But then you saw it—the way people were staring. The way their eyes flickered from you… to your prosthetic, which had become slightly visible in the fall.

The realization hit like a tidal wave.

They knew.

Lando knew it too. And he didn’t hesitate—not for a second.

Instead of brushing it off, instead of acting like it was something to be hidden, he crouched beside you, blocking out the cameras, his focus entirely on you.

“Here,” he murmured, adjusting your prosthetic for you before wrapping an arm around your waist and helping you stand. His grip was steady, reassuring. “You good?”

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah.”

Lando smiled, squeezing your hand. “Then let’s go.”

And just like that, it didn’t matter.

The moment went viral before the race even started.

“Lando helping his girlfriend after she slipped… my heart.”

“Wait, was she wearing a prosthetic?? That’s amazing.”

“The way he didn’t even flinch. He just helped her like it was the most normal thing in the world.”

“She’s incredible. We need to hear her story!”

For the first time, the world saw what Lando had always known.

That you were strong. That you were capable.

And that, to him, you were more than enough.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

masterlist

[specialgradefckr]

Cutest Girl Alive~

tw: explicit content. brat!reader, gojo is not a brat tamer he is a brat enjoyer, hate sex vibes, very very tsundere!reader, gojo is hilariously oblivious about how annoying he is, reader is kinda mean (not without reason...)

satoru gojo who just doesn't know what your problem is.

he really doesn't! suguru doesn't believe him, of course, but it's true - he didn't do anything. at least not anything that would warrant you asking if his "inbred, illiterate ass is too important to file a report".

ichiji said it was just because his paper backlog made things difficult for everybody. but the inbreeding comment was uncalled for!

his mom is super hot, though. he told you as much, and offered to set up a date, just in case you swung the other way.

unfortunately, the only thing that swung was your hand against his face, which didn't make contact, but it still hurt his feelings!

(you'd looked him dead in the eye. "good." walked away.)

and that wasn't just an isolated incident!

he'd caught you at the vending machine, bent over. satoru had politely refrained from slapping your ass and loudly announced how hot it was.

perfect gentleman!

whereupon you had turned around, smiling tightly, and offered him the soda.

"see," he teased, cracking it open, "i knew you could be nice if-"

the soda sprayed all over his face. your smile looked a little looser, a little realer, and your laugh - while awful and wicked - had been terribly adorable.

when he started to laugh with you, though, you just glared. rolled your eyes, and walked off in the middle of the conversation.

and just. random moments! your face falls into an admittedly cute pout (suguru says it's a grimace) whenever he walks into the room.

"how's your day been?"

"good, until you got here."

like, he's not crazy here. you're just being mean.

honestly, it's kind of funny. or it would be funny, if it didn't kind of hurt a little.

suguru doesn't get the same kind of response. when he begs, pleads, and bribes suguru into asking you what you don't like about him -

"if i had to say... everything."

whereupon suguru had burst out laughing.

mean!

but that's the thing, though. you were nice to suguru, to everyone else.

you're not a bitch. you're a bitch to him.

he's special.

you don't treat anybody else like this.

why is that, satoru ponders. why do you especially dislike him?

suguru says it's his shitty personality. joke's on suguru because his best friend has been some guy with a shitty personality for about a decade now! loser.

anyways, he comes up with a plan. he texts you from another phone and number, something perfectly random and polite. a picture of a cat he found on the street.

(you love cats so you'll definitely respond. he knows because he's been popping in on you for several weeks now. it's not stalking because he doesn't follow you! and that was so rude of suguru to say!)

the conversation that follows is perfectly pleasant. sweet, even. he enjoys it, right up until -

mean girl <3: hey could you do me a huge favor actually? satoru gojo: anything 4 u kitten!! mean girl <3: kill yourself gojo

his number is blocked.

whoops. wow. do you have a built in satoru gojo detector or something? what is he missing? what gave him away???

suguru looks over the texts and just stares at him blankly at the question.

"well? what could have clued her in?"

"oh, god... satoru, if you can't tell, just forget about it. and stop trying to fool her."

he probably should. stop, that is.

he's not following you but he's definitely teleporting into places he knows you'll be. trying to run into you. constantly. daily. hourly, even.

he likes to stay updated on all your missions. your favorite restaurants. maybe he watches you a little.

there's just something that draws him in. your quick wits, your derision. the way you look at him with all that fire.

you want to laugh at him. he wants to laugh with you.

and yeah, he gets rock hard when you yell at him. he'd let you slap him but you don't bother trying anymore after hitting his infinity that one time. bummer.

it's a late summer evening - sun still up, orange on the horizon. he's stuck filling out reports, you're stuck grading papers.

in silence, as always. you'd never speak to him unless it was to insult him.

"hey," satoru says all the sudden, "you wanna fuck?"

the silence that fills the room is colder, harder -

"are you fucking serious?" insulted, outraged - that's about what he expected.

but... if he looks with the six eyes... if he glances at your sympathetic nervous system, if he squints really hard and swears three times over, maybe he can convince himself -

"you're not totally against the idea, are you?" he draws himself up from the table, smirking.

hooking a finger in his blindfold like he's trying to remind you just how long they are.

you stare at him.

"dead serious," he confirms, "right here right now. i can be fast."

"i don't doubt it." oooh, there's that bite again, "i doubt i'd enjoy it."

his smile bares teeth.

"wanna bet?"

and fuck, just look at you now. look at you!

with all six eyes he is. and satoru likes what he sees.

hunched over, teary eyed. face bright red. you used to scowl at him with that face, that pretty face, all hard lines and snarled lips -

and look at you now! so cute and precious and soft! so sweet he wants to take a bite out of you.

you even yelp, adorably, when he nips at the inside of your thigh. sensitive, twitchy.

he's dizzy with it. with the taste of you, of your cum. your high pitched little whimpers in his ears are still ringing in his ears, along with your mean retorts.

"where's your smart mouth now, baby?" he teases, lips glossy with your slick.

and god, it's even fucking hotter watching you try to glare while blushing and trembling and blinking away tears of overstimulation.

"sh-shut up and put your dick in me, gojo," you bite out, "if you even know how."

you jolt when he kisses your cunt, looking you in the eyes while he does it.

"awh, you poor thing," he cooes, crawling up your chest to go face-to-face, even as another hand goes to dig his cock out of his pants, "so impatient."

he can tell it riles you up. that you don't know what to do, trapped in his gaze.

"fuck off, gojo."

"i'll fuck you," he says with a snicker, kissing your throat. like he knows you won't let him kiss your lovely little pouty face.

how could he not have seen it before?

(well, he had his blindfold on for one. but the principle of you being unsettled by your attraction towards him still stands!)

he lines himself up, nice and easy. feels your unsteady hands reach, cling to his shoulders, and that's almost as hot.

you look down to avoid his gaze, but then your eyes widen at the sight of his cock. huge and pink and throbbing.

"yummy, right?" he croons, "you can have a taste after if you want. you're so sweet, you deserve a lick or two."

you make this sharp gasp, the most adorable, helpless noise, your whole body jerking as he plunges into you, and satoru nearly cums just from that.

cute. cute cute cute cute so fucking cute he's gonna go crazy.

he bites at the place your shoulder meets your neck just to sate himself. soft skin, tender flesh. salty and slick from sweat.

you melt in his mouth. around his dick. whimpering and sniffling and mewling little demands.

"get on with it, gojo, fuck, is this your first time - "

"first time fucking a cunt this wet?" he purrs between sucking marks on your neck, "yeah, baby. it's crazy, how much you want me."

"you went down on me for like," another high-pitched squeak as he nips your ear, "t-ten minutes, dumbass. of course i'm wet!"

your hands claw at him, trembling just like your voice.

he shoves himself in, all the way to the hilt, disintegrating any coherence you had left. all you can do is cry out, wailing when his long fingers brush over your poor, swollen, tender clit.

"awh, baby, you can take it," he croons. his heart does a little delighted flutter when he sees your (utterly kissable) lips purse in annoyance, only to fall apart again when he pumps back into you.

"run out of nasty things to say, huh, baby?" satoru swears he can feel your pretty little clit twitching and pulsing at his touch, just like his cock throbs inside you.

his eyes glitter as he thrusts in and out. god, your hot fucking body tensing and shuddering against him, the exhaustion warring with pleasure and aggravation on your face.

there's not a single part of you that isn't utterly fixated on him. in this moment he's the most important thing in your world.

and it's glorious. your cunt is clenching him like a vice, unraveling him almost as far as he's already unwound you. little moans spill from your mouth, music to his ears.

that face, god, that fucking gorgeous face that's always frowning at him. so pretty now.

"look at you," he pants, close so close, "god, you're - such a bitch all the time - you just needed a good fucking, huh?"

satoru snatches your face by the jaw, looking you straight in the eyes.

they're all wet and messy and a little bit red. he's so close he has to press hard, fast circles into your clit to get you closer, closer -

"f-fuck," you sob, "fuck, hngh, you-"

he licks your tears off your cheeks, "just needed some good cock, huh? that's all it takes to shut your mean little mouth?"

clawing at his back. he feels you squeezing him for all he's worth, milking him -

"fuck, i'm cumming," he groans, bursting hot and liquid in your tight cunt.

you gulp down heavy, airy breaths. delicate noises as you tremble in his arms.

fuck, you're so gorgeous. satoru lays you back, your lashes fluttering, face flushed, spread out on the desk all limp and exhausted.

his ravished beauty. his little spitfire.

"see," he cooes, cupping your cheek, "all sweet for me now that you're filled with my cum. see how nice it feels when you're good for me?"

your hands shoot up, slapping his hand away, covering your face.

"your mouth is literally only good for eating pussy."

he laughs, leaning in to hold you against him. "and yours is only good for talking shit."

"maybe if you weren't such an asshole you'd know better." you snap, pulling back, sliding him out of you with a little gasp that gets his cock twitching again.

he whines at the loss of you, "awh, come on, don't be like that."

you roll your eyes. it's pretty incredible how well you're composing yourself, fixing your clothes and hair. taking a deep breath as you pointedly ignore his pestering and prepare to leave.

his bitchy, pretty baby. so much less intimidating when he's seen you moaning and cumming in his mouth - but he thinks you're even more adorable now.

"i gave you more than your fair share of orgasms, didn't i? show me what else it's good for~" he sings, staring at you the whole time.

you ignore him until you're dressed again. glancing at him from the corner of your eye. turning away.

"...next week after class." you say, stopping just before you leave, "i don't like owing people."

"heh." satoru watches you dart out the door, shutting it briskly behind you, smiling to himself.

maybe you thought he couldn't see it - as if he isn't always watching your face - but just before you left, he could tell.

the faintest dusting of pink on your cheeks...

you really are the cutest girl alive, huh?

(megumi tells him to stop whistling that day - he doesn't stop for an entire week.)

[hexlenx]

LIE DETECTOR — aaron taylor-johnson

In which both you and your husband were invited to do a lie detector test in the vanity fair channel.

note: I only own the story not the channel and our daddy Aaron. This was also inspired by Ariana Grande and Cynthia's lie detector episode so some of the questions in this story might be the same as the episode. I honestly don't like Sam Tayler that much because of her marrying a male so much younger than her but I can't lie that she's a decently good person, she matched Aaron's freak but a bit too much—

warnings!: none really.

__________________

"Hello I am Mr. Johnson, married to this lovely amazing woman here." Aaron Johnson greeted towards the large camera in front of him and his wife, who was beside him blushing as well as smiling widely at what he said, before moving his gaze towards you. Everyone in the room as well as the viewers could see the love in his eyes with the way he looks at you.

"And I am [ Your Name ] Johnson, the wife of this very handsome and devilishly charming bloke beside me." You grinned at the camera while moving your hand towards your husband's hand before holding on to it. This lead to Aaron subconsciously intertwining both of your hands before mindlessly holding it up for him to kiss your joined hands.

It was an adorable sight for everyone watching as they could feel the pure love coming from them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, you are here to take a lie detector test. One will be attached to a machine for the test to work and the other will be sitting in the chair in front of you to ask you some questions. So who will be ready to take the hot seat?" The woman behind the camera said to the couple. After hearing this, you raised your free hand taking you and your husband by surprise.

"I think I can go first." You said while you looked at your husband, seeing if he agrees.

"You sure? I can go first for you." Aaron proposed but you shook your head and said you were okay to go first.

Now seated in your places, the woman, Stephanie, who was a lie detector professional put a black strap around your chest as well as a smaller one around your index finger.

"You alright, love?" Aaron asked his lover while smiling slightly when he saw you closing your eyes when the straps were put on you. He could tell you were about to enjoy this test and he could tell he would as well.

"Yes! Does this detect my anxiety as well?" You asked towards Stephanie who paused for a while.

"Yes, it can."

"Oh fuck me." You cursed making your husband laugh at your misery.

"Oh yea, laugh at my misery, why don't you?" This made Aaron laugh even harder before composing himself.

"Right. So before we start with the serious question, I need you to answer some simple questions to calibrate the machine. You okay with that, love?" Aaron inquired.

"Oh, Absolutely." You agreed. Aaron nodded and cleared his throat before asking you the questions.

"Alright, are you [ Your Name ] [Last Name ] Johnson?"

"Yes."

Stephanie nodded.

"Were you born in [ Birthday ]?"

"Yes."

Another nod from Stephanie.

"Are you nervous?"

"Yes but at the same time I feel really excited."

Another nod.

"Were you and Mr.Johnson married in [ date ] and at [ time ]?"

"That's oddly very specific but yes." Aaron chuckled at this because he agrees.

"The machine has been calibrated." Stephanie informed the couple to which they nodded. You adjusted in your seat before breathing out to ready yourself for the real questions.

"You ready, hon?" Aaron looked at his wife who nodded with a small 'yep'.

"Love, you've won two oscars and was awarded of the best young actress award in 2013. Would you say that you have the best work ethic?" This made you think a bit because you definitely don't have the best one right now but it was alright and you were comfortable.

"I wouldn't say I have the best, I mean there are some times where it's the worst and there are also times where it worked in the most conventional way. I would just say I'm a workaholic." You explained it as best as you could making Stephanie nod a yes from behind the lie detector. This caused you to beam in excitement, you knew to yourself that you weren't lying and seeing that it was confirmed made you excited.

Seeing you excited made Aaron smile at you fondly. He always loved seeing you light up, it's one of the things that made his days brighter even on his worst days. He guesses that this lie detector test would help both of you gain more trust in each other in some way.

"Oh you are definitely a workaholic. Speaking of, the next question is are you a workaholic?" Aaron chuckled out when he saw you sarcastically roll your eyes.

"Duh? I just did a few moments ago."

"Truthful." Stephanie said making you smile at her.

"Next is, would you work with this person?" Aaron slid a photo of Ben Barnes to which you chuckled.

"Oh my god, not Benjamin!" You dramatically exclaimed as you saw the photo of your long time friend, to which everyone chuckled in amusement. "We've worked together multiple times, secretly. Though Aaron knows this because he's 'his brother from another mother' if you get what that reference means." You winked at the camera.

"Hey! We're supposed to keep Padfoot a secret, what would his banshee of a mother think of now?" Aaron playfully reprimanded you to which you laughed because you understood his joke quite well.

"James, you practically announced that he was living with you since we were teens." You deadpanned continuing the joke as your husband playfully glared at you.

"Everything she said is the truth." Stephanie said, making everyone watching gape as you both basically revealed the Sirius Black and James Potter fancasts are best friends to the point of barging in each other's homes like the Harry Potter characters.

Both you and your husband exchanged amused glances before continuing on with the questions.

"What do you think of this photo?" Aaron slid another photo of you and Sam Taylor smiling at the camera on the way to the Tony Awards.

"Aw, it's Sammy! This was probably one of my favorite photos because if it weren't for Sam, me and Aaron wouldn't be together to this day. Because fun fact, Sam was the one who kept trying to put us together whenever she could when we met each other in the film Kick-Ass. It also just happened that I was the love interest of Dave Lizewski so it kind of made her set on her 'matchmaking' as she calls it. She's like a mother to me, truly." You explained in fondness, it was true. The woman was not that very liked due to her marrying a way more younger man than her but behind all that, she was truly only a woman who loved to love. Her movies directed by her showed that.

Sam saw what you and Aaron had and wanted you to be able to experience the type of love she couldn't have when she was younger. A love that was shared with a pair at the same age or close to their age. Sam loved her husband who was 34 now but even she knew that it wouldn't last, she was 57 for god's sake. She knew she would end up divorced sooner or later and she wanted to see you end up with someone you love and is the same age, she didn't want you to end up like her. Because she truly thought of you as her daughter as well.

Aaron stared at you with the warmest and loving eyes you could ever see in a person. He was deeply in love with you and the viewers can see it, feel it. He knew that you loved talking about Sam, she became like a mother figure to him too. She was the one who he confided to whenever he was worried about making the wrong move towards you and he never once regretted asking her for help because he wouldn't be married to you if he did.

"Alright, love. Next question is—" Aaron scoffed off a laugh threatening to burst out of his mouth when he read the question.

"What? What is it?" You asked worriedly to your husband who shook his head no before stuttering out the question.

"Do you believe the moon landing was fake?"

"What the fuck? What kind of question is that? No!" You voiced out in confusion. Of course you knew it was real! Right?

"Inconclusive." Stephanie hid a smile as she said this, the machine was indeed saying it was inconclusive.

Aaron bursted out of laughing as soon as he heard that.

"You think it was fake?" Your husband laughed out while smacking his thigh from amusement.

"No! I didn't until Stephanie put that in me!" You exclaimed as you looked absolutely repulsed and confused. Maybe this is rigged.

"Oh god, that is hilarious! I am never letting this go down, love." Aaron breathed out as he tried to compose himself. You on the other hand, covered your face with your hands in disbelief.

"Do you believe the earth is flat?"

"No!"

"Deceptive."

Another burst of laughter as well as a gasp of disbelief.

"You think the Earth's flat now?" Aaron was almost crying because of how entertaining this was. This was the best day of his life, one of them at least. "Let's try again, Do you think the Earth is flat?"

"No, the earth is round." You said, now much more calmer than before. This made Stephanie nod in confirmation that you were indeed telling the truth.

"I think you were still stuck with the moon landing, love."

"I was definitely still stuck there."

"Alright there is one more question before we switch." Aaron announced after a series of questions went by. You nodded and slightly adjusted in your seat.

"Do you love me?"

"Of course, I do, very much." You answered instantly and with a single nod from Stephanie, Aaron smiled softly at you to which you did the same.

"Why?" Aaron added making you pretend to think, which made him chuckle a bit.

"The right question for that is 'cuz, why not?" You said with a smile as your husband only raised a brow signalling you to elaborate.

"What's there not to love about you or yourself in general?" You said softly as you looked into his eyes with that same look that he has on his. Both of you stared at each other in silence. God, He thinks he just fell in love with you again. He thought as he took in your whole being in front of him.

"I don't know—a lot, I guess?" He shrugged seemingly nonchalant but you knew better.

"Well I love them and love all of you." You said short and honestly. To which Stephanie nodded once again to confirm that what you said was true. The Lie detector professional knew she doesn't need to speak to confirm this so she settled with a simple nod like from before because she did not want to ruin this cute moment the soulmates were having. Yes, she thinks both of you are soulmates. Not everyone would look at their spouse like that even after getting married or spending time with each other.

"God fuckin' damn it, I think I just fell in love with you over and over again."