#clash endurance

[tripeakathlete]

Weekly Update: Racing, Training, and Tips for Success!

[chopprface]

chip revvington doodles cause ive been thinking about him a lot. i may ramble under the silly doodles or make another post about him cause i thought of a TON while drawing this

id like to imagine he was more fit before he became manager of the logging district but since hes been bogged down with toon battles and paperwork (and late night oil binges to drown the pain) his suits gotten bigger or something. he gained weight but hes a robot so it doesnt really make sense how that physical change happens yk

i think about chip a lot he has a special place in my heart <3 the only thing thats changed from a year and a half ago is i got better at drawing him and i also got laughed at for choosing a boomer ass name like chip

[angelofsmalldeath-codeine]

Not feeling the whole working class thingy today

[cursezoroark]

confrontation

[robinfrinjs]

I don't think Robin will do the Spa 24H (Sad) but there's a spot at Rowe Racing for the Monza Endurance round, wonder if he might get called up.

[mononijikayu]

amnesia — ryomen sukuna.

“Are you… are you playing a joke on me?” Sukuna’s voice wavered slightly as he tried to comprehend the situation. “It’s me. Sukuna. We… we know each other.” You shook your head slowly, an apologetic smile tugging at your lips. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t remember you. I had a really bad accident a few years ago, and… well, I lost my memories. Amnesia. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: sfw, fluff, angst, romance, hurt/ comfort, post - break up, amnesia, hurt, physical touch, memory loss, sadness, pain, pining, slowly getting back together, light-hearted, happy ending, getting back together, depictions of amnesia, depiction of pining, mention of grief, mention of accident, mention of pining, ex-boyfriend! sukuna, amnesiac! ex-girlfriend! reader, domestic uncle sukuna!, nephew!yuji;

WORD COUNT: 9.9k words

NOTE: the entire chapter is a sequel to drunk tonight and is set five years later. sukuna won second place at the poll again and i feel like this is my apology for sukuna for always making him an angst main lead. this was inspired by a filipino film called amnesia girl and its a funny drama-romcom. its available on youtube, but i dont know if there's subtitles!!! anyway, i hope you enjoy this and i hope you know how much i love yall 🫶🫶🫶

ADDENDUM: so......so long sukuna??? (manga readers iykyk)

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 1000;

if you want to, tip!

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HE LIKED TO THINK HE COUNTED THE HOW LONG IT HAS BEEN WELL. Five long and painful years ago, you and Sukuna parted ways in what felt like an explosion of unresolved emotions and unmet expectations. Your relationship had been a tempestuous blend of fiery passion and constant turbulence, a rollercoaster of intense highs and devastating lows. From the beginning, it was clear that both of you had strong personalities, often clashing in ways that seemed impossible to reconcile.

The reasons for the breakup were numerous and complex. There was the perpetual danger that came with Sukuna's world, a constant reminder that you were living on the edge, with no guarantee of safety or stability. His life was fraught with peril, and the reality of that danger had taken its toll on both of you. You both knew that living under such stress was unsustainable, and it began to fray the bonds that had once held you together.

Your expectations, too, weighed heavily on the relationship. You had dreams and aspirations that seemed at odds with the life you were leading alongside Sukuna. The demands of his world often overshadowed your own needs, leading to a sense of neglect and disillusionment. It felt as though you were always putting yourself second, trying to accommodate the chaos that was Sukuna's life while struggling to maintain your own sense of self.

Despite the chaos and the inevitable breakdown, there was an undeniable connection between you—a bond that neither of you could completely sever. It was a connection that defied logic, a thread that seemed to pull you back together despite all efforts to move on. Both of you had tried to let go, to walk away and start anew, but the lingering feelings and shared history made it nearly impossible to fully break free.

Sukuna, in his own way, struggled with this as well. Even though the relationship had reached its breaking point, he found himself unable to completely let go of what you had shared. He was deeply aware of the toll that the relationship had taken on you, and he knew that you needed to prioritize yourself, your own well-being, and your own path forward. It was a painful realization, one that left him feeling hollow and lost, but he was determined not to be the reason you couldn't move forward.

In his mind, letting you go was the only way to truly show his love for you—to give you the space you needed to heal and grow. Even if it meant enduring his own misery, he accepted that it was a sacrifice he had to make. He knew that holding on would only serve to drag you both down further, and he wasn't willing to be the obstacle in your pursuit of happiness.

So, as time passed and the separation became a part of your history, Sukuna endured his own internal struggle. He remained in the shadows of your life, silently wishing for your happiness while grappling with his own feelings of loss and regret. He respected your decision and tried to move forward, even as he kept a part of himself tied to the memories of what once was.

But even then, you were truly something that made his life more than it was. You were the blossoms of his youth, the hope and vibrancy that had once colored his world. Your presence had breathed life into the mundane, transforming his days from mere existence into something filled with possibility and wonder. 

His elder brother Jin had seen it all those years ago, recognizing the profound impact you had on Sukuna. Jin had often remarked on how you were a beacon of hope, a light that guided Sukuna through the darkest corners of his life. Your influence was undeniable, a force that had shaped him in ways he could hardly articulate.

Yet despite the depth of his feelings and the significance of what you had shared, Sukuna couldn’t escape the gnawing belief that he had ultimately failed you. He carried with him the heavy burden of the notion that he wasn’t good enough—never had been, never would be. The weight of this conviction was a constant companion, a shadow that loomed over every thought and action.

He remembered the countless moments of doubt, the times when he felt that his flaws, his imperfections, and the dangers of his world were too great a burden for you to bear. It was a painful realization, one that left him grappling with feelings of inadequacy. He wanted to be the person who could give you everything you deserved—love, stability, safety. But he feared that he fell short, that he could never truly be the partner you needed.

Even as he watched you move forward, find your own path, and build a life without him, he was haunted by the belief that he had let you down. He was acutely aware of all the ways he had failed to meet your expectations, to protect you from the chaos that had once defined your life together. He thought that perhaps he had been too caught up in his own struggles, too consumed by the demands of his world to fully appreciate what he had with you.

In his quieter moments, Sukuna wrestled with the idea that he would never be good enough for you, that he would never be able to offer you the kind of love and life you truly deserved. This belief became a part of him, shaping how he viewed himself and how he measured his worth. He felt that he had lost you not because of any one mistake or shortcoming, but because he was fundamentally flawed, incapable of providing the kind of relationship you needed.

And so, even as he grappled with his own pain and regrets, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were better off without him. The memory of what you had shared lingered like a bittersweet echo, a reminder of what could have been and what was lost. He had to come to terms with the fact that he might never be able to offer you the life you deserved, and that acceptance was a hard, painful lesson he had to learn.

Sukuna's struggle with these feelings was a testament to the depth of his love for you, a love that, despite its imperfections and its failures, had once been a source of profound meaning and transformation in his life. Even as he moved forward, he carried the weight of this truth with him—a reminder of what you had meant to him and the painful realization that, perhaps, he would never truly be good enough to have you back.

Sukuna sat in the corner of the room, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand, as he listened to his friend's banter. The atmosphere was lighter than it had been in years. Gojo, with his usual grin, was recounting some ridiculous tale of his latest escapade, while Uraume, ever the quiet observer, occasionally chimed in with dry comments that had the others laughing.

But Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t really paying attention. His mind kept drifting back to you—to the way your eyes had softened when you told him you wanted to give “us” a real chance, to the way you’d leaned into him, trusting and vulnerable in a way that made his chest tighten.

“Oi, Sukuna. You’re….” Gojo’s voice cut through his thoughts. “You’re awfully quiet tonight, bud. What's got you all broody, huh?”

Sukuna blinked, realizing he’d been staring into his glass for who knows how long. He knows he spaces out when he’s thinking, but when he’s thinking of you — he suppose the time can go on and he wouldn’t even notice. He looked up to find Gojo’s bright blue eyes fixed on him, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Uraume was watching him too, their expression unreadable but attentive.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Sukuna muttered, taking a sip of his drink. “Just thinking.”

“That’s a first from you, hm.”  Uraume teased, earning a snort from Gojo.

“Come on, spill it!” Gojo pressed, leaning forward with that infuriatingly playful grin. “Is it a girl? I don’t mind if it’s a guy, I know you swing that way too! Oh, wait… don’t tell me it’s the girl.”

Sukuna’s dark scarlet eyes narrowed at him. “What are you talking about?”

Gojo’s grin widened. “The one you’ve been moping about for the last five years. Don’t think I didn’t notice, Sukuna. You’ve been different at work lately—quieter, more… I don’t know, introspective.”

“Gojo–san’s right, Sukuna–san.” Uraume added, their tone softer. “You’ve changed. It’s like you’re finally letting go of whatever it was that had you so wound up.”

Sukuna leaned back in his chair, feeling the weight of their words settle over him. He wasn’t used to being the one on the receiving end of their scrutiny, and he didn’t like it. But he also knew they weren’t wrong.

“Yeah, well……” Sukuna began, his voice rough, “I haven't seen her in a long while.. Five years, I think. But I heard…I heard she’s been around. She’s moved around town.”

Uraume raised their eyebrows. “Five years? That’s a long time, Sukuna–san.”

“Yeah. We were together throughout our senior high school and college. Then we broke up after we graduated.” Sukuna sighed, taking a long sip of his drink. The alcohol burned as it slid down his throat, but it did little to ease the ache that had settled in his chest. “It’s been a long time, but… hearing that she’s moved here just brings back a lot.”

Gojo’s eyes widened in surprise. “Was that breakup really that bad?” His usual grin faded, replaced by a look of concern as he sensed the gravity of Sukuna’s words. “What happened?”

Sukuna nodded, his gaze drifting away from Gojo’s intense stare. The room seemed to grow quieter as he delved into the past, the weight of his memories heavy in his voice. “We had multiple breakups. It wasn’t just one—there were several. But the last one was particularly rough. We both cried a lot, said things we didn’t mean. It was messy.”

Gojo leaned in, his curiosity piqued. “Why was it so difficult?”

Sukuna’s face tightened as he struggled to find the right words. “If I’m being honest, it’s my fault. I wasn’t secure in myself. I was jealous, possessive. I couldn’t handle the idea of her moving forward or being happy without me. And that jealousy, that insecurity—it hurt her more than I realized.”

There was a long pause as Sukuna’s confession hung in the air. Gojo’s usual bravado was replaced by a rare, contemplative silence. He took a moment to process Sukuna’s admission, trying to reconcile the man he knew with the vulnerability being revealed.

“That’s a lot to carry,” Gojo said finally, his voice softer than usual. “But it sounds like you’re taking responsibility, which is more than a lot of people do.”

Sukuna’s expression was a mix of regret and acceptance. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t change the past. I know I hurt her, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make up for that fully. But seeing her again… it’s brought everything back. The pain, the regret, and the memories of what we had.”

Uraume, who had been quietly listening, spoke up, their tone gentle. “It’s clear you’re still affected by this. Maybe it’s a chance for you to make things right, or at least find some closure. People change, and sometimes, revisiting the past can help us understand ourselves better.”

Sukuna nodded, though his expression remained somber. “Maybe. I’m not sure what will come of this. I just know that seeing her again made me realize how much I still care, how much I’ve changed, and how much I wish things could have been different.”

Gojo leaned back, his eyes thoughtful. “It sounds like you’ve been through a lot, and maybe this is a chance for you to show her the person you’ve become. It might not fix everything, but it could be a step toward healing—for both of you.”

Sukuna’s gaze softened, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “Yeah, maybe. It’s worth a shot.”

The room fell silent, the playful atmosphere dissolving as the weight of Sukuna's words sank in. Even Gojo, who was usually quick with a joke or a teasing remark, seemed at a loss for what to say. His usual bravado was replaced with something more thoughtful, almost solemn, as he processed what Sukuna had just revealed.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft clink of ice in Sukuna's glass as he set it down on the table. He could feel the eyes of his friends on him, but he kept his gaze fixed on the drink, not ready to meet their concerned looks just yet. The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken emotions.

“I hope the best for you, man.” Gojo finally muttered, leaning back in his chair as he exhaled slowly. His tone was softer than usual, lacking its typical teasing edge. “You deserve to be happy too.”

Sukuna snickered. “You must be drunk being this nice to me.”

“Hey! I am nice at all times.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Uraume, who had been listening quietly, leaned forward slightly, their expression gentle and understanding. They had always been more in tune with Sukuna's moods, more aware of the nuances in his behavior than Gojo, who often masked his own sensitivity with humor.

“If you bump into her again, though….” Uraume asked, their tone devoid of judgment, only curiosity and concern. “Would you try and talk to her, then?”

Sukuna finally looked up, meeting Uraume’s gaze. There was a hesitance in his eyes, as if he was still grappling with the reality of it all. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low, almost as if admitting it aloud made it more real. “I would. In a drop of a hat.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy with the weight of all the unspoken feelings that had built up over the years. It wasn’t just the fact that you had come back into his life; it was the realization that despite everything, despite the time and distance, Ryomen Sukuna had never really let go of you. He had buried those feelings deep, tried to move on, but now that you were here again, they had all come rushing back to the surface.

Gojo watched Sukuna carefully, his usual smirk gone, replaced with a rare expression of empathy. He knew Sukuna better than most, knew how much pride had always driven him, how hard it had been for him to admit his feelings even when things were good between the two of you. For Sukuna to open up like this now, it meant that whatever he was feeling ran deep.

“I get it.” Gojo said, his voice unusually quiet. “I mean, you guys were… well, you were everything to each other. It makes sense that she’s still on your mind.”

Uraume nodded in agreement. “It’s not surprising that you still think about her, Sukuna–san. What you had wasn’t just something you can forget, even if you wanted to.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, staring off into the distance as if trying to collect his thoughts. “It’s just… weird.” he finally said, his voice thick with the frustration he’d been holding back. “I’ve been trying to move on, to put all of that behind me. But I just….I want to see her again. Even just one more time.”

Gojo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he regarded Sukuna with a serious expression. “Maybe you’re not supposed to forget, man. Maybe this is your chance to figure out what you really want, to make things right.”

Uraume added quietly, “It’s not too late to change the narrative, Sukuna. If you still care about her, if she’s still on your mind after all this time, maybe there’s something there worth exploring.”

Sukuna closed his eyes for a moment, taking in their words. There was truth in what they were saying, and he knew it. He had spent so long trying to bury his feelings, convincing himself that it was over and done with. But the truth was, he had never truly moved on. And now, with you back in his life, even in this new, unfamiliar way, he couldn’t ignore the pull he felt toward you.

When he opened his eyes, there was a resolve in them that hadn’t been there before. “You’re probably right.” he admitted, his voice steady. “I’ve been running from this for too long. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I need to see this through. I owe it to myself, and… to her.”

Gojo’s grin returned, but it was softer, more genuine. “That’s the spirit, man. You’ve got this. Just… don’t screw it up this time, okay?”

Sukuna let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ll try not to.”

Uraume smiled softly, a rare display of emotion from them. “We’re here for you, Sukuna–san. Whatever you need, just say the word.”

Sukuna nodded, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he wasn’t alone in this. With Gojo and Uraume by his side, he knew he could face whatever came next, even if it meant confronting the feelings he had buried for so long.

One more drink and  the conversation shifted back to lighter topics, the tension that had hung in the air slowly dissipated. But the resolve in Sukuna’s heart remained, stronger than ever. He knew what he had to do, and for the first time in years, he felt ready to face it head-on,

As the night wore on, Sukuna couldn’t help but think about the future—about what it would be like to build something real with you this time, something lasting. The thought scared him, but it also excited him in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

Maybe, just maybe, this time he could get it right. And with Gojo and Uraume by his side, he knew he wouldn’t have to do it alone. But the hour is late. And they’ve got things going on in their lives too. So they pay their bills and wave him goodbye.

As he watches his comrades pair off, he is forced to confront a painful truth. Despite years of searching, no one has been able to replace you. The women he's met, the flings he's had—they were all distractions, mere shadows compared to what he had with you. Each time he tries to move forward, your memory pulls him back, the echo of your laughter, the way you challenged him like no one else ever did, and the warmth you once brought into his life, all refuse to fade.

In quiet moments, when he's alone, Ryomen Sukuna wrestles with the possibility that his true love, the one person who could truly understand and match his intensity, might have been you all along. The very thought frustrates and angers him, but deep down, he knows it's true. The idea that you could be happy with someone else, that you could have moved on, is a bitter pill to swallow.

But what can he do? Could he really go back to you after all this time, after all the hurt and pride that kept you apart? The thought of reaching out, of admitting that he hasn't been able to stop thinking about you, is terrifying in its vulnerability. Yet, the more he tries to resist, the more he finds himself wanting you back in his life.

Sukuna has always been a man of action, but this...this is different. It's not about power or control; it's about something far more fragile—his heart, his pride, and the chance of losing you all over again. The question that haunts him now is whether he can swallow that pride and take the risk, whether he can open himself up to the possibility that, just maybe, what he’s been searching for all these years was right in front of him all along.

And that possibility, terrifying as it may be, is the only thing that has ever truly scared him.

Sukuna's inner turmoil grows as the days pass. The world around him, once filled with the thrill of battles and the allure of endless conquests, now feels hollow and cold. He notices how his friends look at him, their eyes reflecting pity and concern. They know him too well, aware that behind his sharp words and defiant attitude, something is eating away at him.

He tries to brush it off, burying himself in work, in fights, in anything that will distract him. But no matter how hard he tries, his thoughts keep circling back to you. The memories come unbidden—your smile, the way you used to tease him, the way you understood him in a way no one else ever did. It's maddening, the way you haunt him, and yet he can't bring himself to let you go.

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IT WAS UNEXPECTED. It was that sort of day once again. Sukuna found himself in charge of his energetic nephew, Yuji, who had just been picked up from school. With his brother Jin and sister-in-law Kaori and Choso tied up with commitments for the weekend, Sukuna was left to manage Yuji. Given that he didn’t have to hit the gym or deal with work obligations that day, it seemed like a manageable task.

Ryomen Sukuna’s house was usually a quiet refuge from his chaotic world, but today it felt oddly empty. He doesn’t really like decorating that much, mostly because he has no time and mostly because he really doesn’t feel like it. But his nephew doesn’t seem to mind it every time he’s here. If there was something to distract the brat, then he doesn’t pay attention to everything else. Well, that and food. As he settled Yuji into the living room, Yuji’s curiosity quickly turned to hunger.

“Uncle Sukuna, I’m starving.” Yuji announced, making a beeline for the kitchen. “Do you have any natto? I could really go for some.”

Sukuna blinked, momentarily confused. “Natto? I don’t think I have any. Let me check.”

He shuffled into the kitchen, opening the fridge and peering inside. His search yielded nothing but a few cans of expired beans and a half-eaten pizza box. Sukuna eats out most of the time, because of work. If he does buy anything, it would be from the last time Yuji was here. And that was….a while ago. And just as much, there was no natto in sight.

“Uh, brat, I think we’re out of natto.” Sukuna said, returning to the living room with a sheepish grin. “And it looks like the rest of the fridge is pretty bare.”

Yuji’s eyes widened in disappointment. “But I was really looking forward to it!”

Sukuna rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. Looks like we’ll need to go out for groceries. How about we make it an adventure?”

Yuji’s face lit up at the prospect of an outing. “Okay! Can we get some ice cream too?”

Sukuna chuckled, relieved that Yuji’s mood had brightened. “Sure, ice cream it is. Let’s get going before your hunger turns into a full-blown meltdown, brat.”

As they left the house, Sukuna and Yuji made their way to the nearby supermarket. Yuji’s excitement was palpable, his small hands gripping the shopping cart handle as he eagerly pointed out various items he wanted to add to the list. Sukuna, trying to keep up, found himself both amused and exasperated by Yuji’s relentless energy and enthusiasm.

In the aisles of the supermarket, Sukuna pushed the cart while Yuji darted from one section to another, collecting snacks, fruits, and—of course—several packs of natto. Sukuna grabbed a few essentials and, true to his word, added some ice cream to the cart.

As they approached the checkout line, Sukuna glanced at Yuji, who was happily munching on a sample cookie from the store. The small bit of chocolate on Yuji’s cheek made him look even more cherubic and endearing. Sukuna’s lips twitched into a small smile, a rare moment of warmth slipping through his usually stoic facade.

“You know, I think I might need to keep a better stock of food for next time,” Sukuna said, his tone light.

Yuji, still with cookie crumbs on his face, grinned up at him. “And more natto!”

Sukuna couldn’t help but chuckle. The idea of having to stockpile natto just to keep his nephew happy was a new one, but it seemed like a worthwhile endeavor. He ruffled Yuji’s hair affectionately, feeling a soft, genuine affection for the boy.

“You’ve got it, brat. More natto it is.” Sukuna agreed, a rare, relaxed smile on his face.

As they loaded their groceries onto the conveyor belt, Sukuna glanced around, realizing how normal and mundane the experience was compared to the high-stakes, dangerous life he usually led. The simplicity of shopping for food and sharing a lighthearted moment with Yuji was both refreshing and oddly comforting.

Yuji, ever the energetic child, started pointing out items in the store with increasing enthusiasm. “Uncle Sukuna, look! They have those gummy candies you like!” 

Sukuna gave a half-hearted, amused shrug. “Sure, toss them in. I guess I can indulge a bit today.”

As they made their way through the aisles, Yuji chatted away, filling the silence with stories about school and his friends. Sukuna wasn’t really paying attention, his mind elsewhere, when something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

There, at the end of the aisle, stood a familiar figure. The sight stopped Sukuna in his tracks, his eyes widening in disbelief. It was you.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. He watched as you browsed through the shelves, seemingly lost in thought. Your presence, once a distant memory, felt so strikingly real that Sukuna’s heart skipped a beat. The years seemed to melt away as he took in the sight of you.

At first, he didn’t recognize you. It was just a fleeting glimpse, the way your hair caught the light, the familiar way you moved. But then, as you reached for something on a high shelf, he saw your face, and his heart stopped.

It was you.

He couldn’t believe it at first. He thought maybe it was someone who just looked like you, or perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him, dredging up memories he’d tried so hard to bury. But the more he stared, the more certain he became. It was you.

Yuji, noticing Sukuna’s sudden pause, looked up. “Uncle Sukuna, what’s wrong?”

Sukuna swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure. “Uh, nothing, brat. Let’s just finish up here.”

But his gaze was fixed on you, unable to look away. You hadn’t noticed him yet, and Sukuna fought with the urge to approach you, unsure of what to say or do. The familiar mix of excitement and anxiety churned within him, a reminder of the past he had tried so hard to reconcile.

Yuji, still unaware of the significance of the moment, tugged on Sukuna’s sleeve. “Uncle Sukuna, can we go over there? I want to check if they have those chocolates I like!”

Sukuna nodded absently, allowing Yuji to lead him towards the end of the aisle where you stood. As they drew closer, Sukuna braced himself, trying to steady his racing heart. He needed to act normal, to approach you calmly despite the flood of emotions.

Without thinking, he handed the shopping basket to Yuji and began walking toward you. The world around him seemed to blur, the noise of the supermarket fading into the background. It was just you and him, the years that had passed suddenly meaningless.

When he reached you, he hesitated, unsure of what to say. His mind raced, a thousand questions and emotions fighting for dominance. He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t prepared for the possibility of seeing you again. But now that you were right in front of him, he couldn’t just walk away.

“Is that you?” He finally said it. He finally said your name. He could feel his entire body shake from nervousness. He didn’t notice until he said it that his voice was rougher than he intended.

You turned to him, blinking in confusion. Your eyes met his, and for a brief, electrifying moment, Sukuna saw the spark of recognition. It was fleeting, but it was there—an almost imperceptible flicker that hinted at a shared past. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a polite, detached expression.

“I’m sorry, but…” you began, your voice soft and apologetic. “Do I know you?”

The words hit Sukuna like a punch to the gut. The confusion on your face made no sense to him; how could you not remember him? The realization was like a cold wave crashing over him. He scanned your face more closely, noting the faint scar near your temple and the way your eyes seemed to search his face for something familiar but found nothing.

“Are you… are you playing a joke on me?” Sukuna’s voice wavered slightly as he tried to comprehend the situation. “It’s me. Sukuna. We… we know each other.”

You shook your head slowly, an apologetic smile tugging at your lips. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t remember you. I had a really bad accident a few years ago, and… well, I lost my memories. Amnesia. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Amnesia. The word hit him like a ton of bricks. All the anger, hurt, and regret that had simmered in him for years suddenly evaporated, replaced by something he couldn’t quite name. You didn’t remember him. You didn’t remember anything about your life together, the love you shared, or the pain that had driven you apart. He stared at you, struggling to process what you’d just told him. The person he’d spent years trying to forget had forgotten him completely. And it hurts. It burns. It…it kills him.

Sukuna’s heart sank as he struggled to process your words. The memories of the past, the shared moments, the intense connection—everything seemed to blur together in a confusing haze. He tried to hold onto the hope that maybe, somehow, there was a chance you might remember him later, but the reality of your situation was clear. You had no recollection of your time together.

“Right…” Sukuna muttered, his voice thick with emotions he didn’t quite know how to handle. “No, it’s… it’s fine.”

“I just… I feel like I’ve upset you,” you mumbled back, your eyes filled with sincere regret. “It’s been like this for a while. I’m really sorry.”

“No, no… it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. It was my fault,” Sukuna said, shaking his head, though the words felt hollow against the weight of his feelings.

You nodded, your gaze sympathetic. “No, please. It’s not. I understand. It must be hard to run into someone who doesn’t remember you. I’m truly sorry.”

There was a quiet moment between you, the weight of lost memories hanging heavily in the air. Sukuna, feeling the sting of both your absence and the reality of your condition, struggled to find the right words. He wanted to bridge the gap between what had been and what was now, but he found himself at a loss.

Before you could turn away, Sukuna took a deep breath, summoning the courage to speak. “Um… could I… could I have your number? Maybe… maybe we could talk sometime. If you’re okay with that.”

You looked at him, a flicker of surprise crossing your face. For a moment, you seemed to weigh his request, and then you nodded slowly. “Sure. I can give you my number. I’d like that.”

As you exchanged contact information, Sukuna felt a mixture of hope and apprehension. The act of sharing numbers was a small step, but it felt significant. It was a bridge to the possibility of rebuilding a connection, even if the past was shadowed by the uncertainty of your memory.

“Thank you,” Sukuna said quietly, his voice carrying a note of genuine gratitude. “I appreciate it.”

You gave him a warm, understanding smile. “Of course. I’ll be happy to talk whenever you’re ready. It’s… nice to have some help with my memories, even if it’s just a little.”

Before he could speak, Yuji tugged at Sukuna’s sleeve. “Uncle Sukuna, can we go home now? I’m tired.”

Sukuna glanced down at Yuji and then back at you, his heart heavy. “Yeah, Yuji. Let’s head out.”

As Sukuna began to walk away, he felt your gaze on him. The pain of seeing you again, only to find that you had no memory of their shared past, was almost too much to bear. The bittersweet encounter left him with a mix of longing and resignation. You smiled at Yuji and then to him. Yuji grinned back at you and waved back. 

“Take care.” you called softly as he left the store with Yuji. Sukuna gave a small, subdued wave in response, his mind reeling from the encounter.

Once outside, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Yuji, noticing his uncle’s somber mood, looked up with concern. “Uncle Sukuna, are you okay?”

Sukuna forced a reassuring smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, Yuji. I’m fine. Just… a little surprised. Let’s get home.”

As they drove back, Sukuna’s thoughts were filled with the echoes of the past and the present reality. The encounter had stirred up old feelings, and the realization that you had lost your memories of him was both heartbreaking and profoundly unsettling. Yet, despite the pain, there was a strange sense of closure, as if seeing you again, even under these circumstances, had helped him come to terms with the unresolved aspects of their past.

As you walked away, Sukuna stood there, frozen in place, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Yuji came up beside him, his eyes wide with concern.

“Uncle Sukuna, are you okay? Who was that?”

Sukuna glanced at Yuji, then back at the aisle where you’d disappeared. He didn’t know how to answer that. He didn’t know how to explain that the person he’d never been able to forget had forgotten him entirely.

“That,” Sukuna finally said, his voice hollow, “was someone I used to know.”

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HE DOESN’T REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED AFTER. The days that followed were a blur for Sukuna. But he couldn’t help it.  Your encounter in the supermarket had shaken him in a way he hadn’t expected. He tried to push it aside, tell himself that it didn’t matter, that you were just a part of his past. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face, the way you looked at him with no recognition, no anger, no pain—just blank politeness. It haunted him.

Yet, fate seemed determined to keep throwing the two of you together. A few days later, he saw you again, this time at a coffee shop. You were sitting by the window, a book in hand, oblivious to the world around you. Sukuna hesitated, debating whether to approach you, but before he could decide, you looked up and caught his eye. There was that same polite smile, and he found himself walking over to you before he could think better of it.

“Hi again.” you said, looking up at him with that same soft, apologetic expression. “We keep running into each other, don’t we?”

“Yeah…..” he replied, his voice rough. He wasn’t sure what to say. The awkwardness between you was palpable, the weight of the past pressing down on him in a way you couldn’t feel. But you didn’t know that, couldn’t know that, so you just smiled and gestured to the seat across from you.

“Would you like to join me?” you asked, your voice gentle, offering a small, tentative smile as you gestured to a nearby café table.

Sukuna hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t sure what he was doing or why he was putting himself through this, but there was something about being near you, even if you didn’t remember him, that soothed the ache in his chest. 

“If you wouldn’t mind.” he finally said, his voice betraying the mix of emotions swirling inside him. He sat down across from you, the familiarity of the scene almost too much to bear. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away. 

You giggled. “I don’t mind. Not at all.”

As you both settled in, the air between you was filled with an odd mix of tension and familiarity. You began to talk—small, inconsequential things at first. You mentioned how you liked the café’s atmosphere, how it had become one of your favorite spots since you moved here. Sukuna nodded along, trying to focus on the present moment rather than the flood of memories threatening to overwhelm him.

“You know….. “ you said after a moment, stirring your coffee absentmindedly, “it’s strange. I feel… comfortable with you. Like I’ve known you for a long time, even if I can’t remember it.”

Sukuna’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to tell you everything—to pour out the years of pain, regret, and longing he had carried since you’d been apart. But he knew it wouldn’t be fair to burden you with memories you didn’t share anymore. So instead, he offered a small, wistful smile. 

“Maybe it’s just one of those thing.” he said softly, his eyes searching for yours. “Some people just click, I guess.”

You nodded, your gaze lingering on his face as if you were trying to piece together a puzzle. “Maybe. But still, it feels nice. Like I can trust you.”

Sukuna swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his emotions in check. “I’m glad,” he said quietly, his voice betraying the depth of his feelings despite his best efforts. “I’d like to be someone you can trust.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics after that, and the tension slowly eased. You talked about your life, your work, and the things you enjoyed. Sukuna listened intently, hanging on to every word, savoring the sound of your voice even if the stories were new to him. 

As the minutes turned into an hour, Sukuna found himself relaxing. The ache in his chest dulled, replaced by a warmth that he hadn’t felt in years. It was as if, for the first time since you had parted ways, he could breathe a little easier. There was no rush, no pressure to define what this was or what it could become. Just the simple pleasure of being in your company again, however different it might be from the past.

When you finally stood up to leave, Ryomen Sukuna felt a pang of reluctance, but he knew this wasn’t the end. You had exchanged numbers, after all, and there was a possibility that this could lead to something more. 

“I’m really glad we ran into each other.” you said, giving him a sincere smile. “I hope we can do this again sometime.”

“Me too.” Sukuna replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I’d like that.”

As you walked away, Sukuna remained seated for a moment, staring at the now-empty chair across from him. Despite the uncertainty of the future, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was his chance to make things right—to show you the kind of love and care he should have given you all those years ago. And as he left the café, he found himself smiling, a feeling of lightness in his chest that he hadn’t felt in far too long.

Like the wind, the days brushed by into weeks, these accidental meetings became more frequent. He’d see you at the park, at the grocery store, at the small bookstore you frequented. Each time, you greeted him with the same warmth, and each time, he felt the walls he’d built around his heart start to crumble a little more.

It was during one of these encounters, when you were sitting together on a bench at the park, that Sukuna realized something had changed. He wasn’t just dwelling on the past anymore. He wasn’t just seeing you as the woman he used to love, the one who’d left him behind. You were still that person, but you were also someone new, someone who’d been through their own struggles, their own pain.

And he’d changed too. He wasn’t the same man you’d walked away from five years ago. The anger, the recklessness, the pride that had once driven you apart had mellowed. He’d grown, learned from his mistakes, and now, sitting beside you, he realized that he wanted to make things right.

There was one afternoon where after you’d both finished your coffees at that familiar café, Sukuna finally found himself gathered the courage to speak again. He’d been thinking about this for days, the words tumbling over and over in his mind until they felt like second nature.

“Hey….” he began, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You looked at him, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “What is it?”

“I know you don’t remember me, or anything about… us, but I want you to know that I’m not the same person I was back then. I’ve changed. And I want to try again.” He paused, searching for the right words. “I want to make things right for you.”

There was a long silence as you absorbed his words. He could see the confusion in your eyes, the way you were trying to piece together something that felt like a missing puzzle in your mind. You wanted to know what it was. How to be complete, and yet you didn’t know how. Not even if your past thought he was what complete was. Finally, you spoke.

“Sukuna, I… I don’t know what to say. I don’t remember anything about us, about our past. But I can see that this means a lot to you, and that you’ve been carrying it with you for a long time.”

You paused, looking down at your hands, and then back at him. “I don’t know if I can ever get those memories back. But I do know that I enjoy spending time with you, that I feel comfortable around you. And maybe… maybe that’s a good place to start.”

His heart leapt at your words, hope flickering to life in a way it hadn’t in years. This was a second chance, an opportunity to rewrite the story that had once ended in heartbreak. He didn’t know what the future held, or if you would ever remember what you once had, but for the first time in a long time, he felt something close to peace.

Sukuna reached out, his hand brushing against yours, and you didn’t pull away. “Then let’s start there, hm?” he said quietly. “No pressure, no expectations. Just… us.”

You smiled, a genuine, warm smile that sent a wave of relief through him. “Just us,” you agreed.

And for the first time in five years, Sukuna felt like he was finally on the path to something real, something lasting. It wouldn’t be easy, but he was determined to prove that he could love you the way you deserved—this time, the right way.

As the weeks turned into months, Sukuna and you continued to meet, slowly rebuilding a connection that had once been lost. Each encounter felt like a tentative step forward, a cautious yet hopeful attempt to bridge the gap that had formed between you over the years. Yet, instead of the intense and sometimes overwhelming passion that had defined your past relationship, there was a newfound sense of calm and understanding between you both.

There was an ease between you now, a natural rhythm that felt different from the intense, almost chaotic bond you’d shared in the past. In the beginning, it was subtle—a shared smile over a mundane joke, the comfortable silence that fell between you as you walked side by side, the way your conversations flowed without the need to fill every gap with words. The pressure that once loomed over your relationship, demanding definitions and clarity, had dissipated, leaving space for something more genuine and unforced.

You found yourselves slipping into each other’s lives in small, almost imperceptible ways. Sukuna would pick up your favorite coffee without being asked, remembering the way you liked it just by heart. You’d invite him to a quiet dinner at your place, cooking together in the kitchen as you talked about everything and nothing. There were no grand gestures or declarations, just a quiet, steady presence that felt reassuring and right.

This time, there was no rush, no urgency to define what you were to each other. It was as if both of you understood that whatever this was, it needed to grow at its own pace. You’d learned from the past, from the way things had unraveled before, and there was an unspoken agreement that you wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. You allowed the relationship to unfold naturally, letting each moment build upon the last, like carefully stacking stones into a tower that could withstand the test of time.

Sukuna, too, had changed. The man who once wore his emotions like armor, who had always been so guarded and intense, was different now. There was a softness to him that hadn’t been there before—a willingness to listen, to be patient, to let things unfold without forcing them into place. He no longer felt the need to control every aspect of his life, and that included his relationship with you. He had learned to let go, to trust that if this was meant to be, it would be.

And in that trust, something beautiful began to grow. Your conversations deepened, moving beyond the surface-level topics that had once dominated your interactions. You talked about your dreams, your fears, the things that kept you awake at night. Sukuna shared pieces of himself that he had kept hidden for so long, opening up in ways he never had before. And you, in turn, felt safe enough to do the same.

There were moments when the past would resurface, like shadows lingering at the edges of your newfound connection. Memories of heated arguments, of painful goodbyes, would flicker in your minds, reminding you of how things had once gone wrong. But instead of letting those memories drag you down, you faced them together, acknowledging the hurt while choosing to move forward.

It wasn’t always easy. There were still days when doubts crept in, when the fear of repeating past mistakes threatened to pull you apart. But each time, you chose to stay, to work through it rather than run away. And with each challenge you faced, the bond between you grew stronger, more resilient.

Sukuna, who had once been so afraid of vulnerability, found himself looking forward to the moments he spent with you. The walls he had built around himself slowly crumbled, replaced by a quiet confidence in what you were building together. He no longer needed to prove himself, to assert control over his emotions or over you. Instead, he allowed himself to simply be—with you, in the present, without the burden of past regrets or future expectations.

You, too, noticed the change in yourself. The tension that had once gnawed at your heart, the constant questioning of whether you were enough or if this was right, had eased. You felt more secure, more at peace with where you were and where you were going. You trusted Sukuna in a way you hadn’t before, not just because he had changed, but because you had changed too.

As the months passed, the connection between you deepened, solidified by the quiet moments of understanding and the shared experiences that had brought you closer together. There was a sense of contentment that neither of you had anticipated—a feeling that, for the first time in a long time, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And so, you continued to meet, to grow together, allowing whatever this was to take shape in its own time. There was no rush, no urgency, only the quiet certainty that what you were building was worth the patience and the effort. You both knew that the past would always be a part of you, but it no longer defined you. Instead, it had become a foundation upon which you could build something new, something lasting.

In each other’s presence, you found a kind of peace that had once seemed elusive, and in that peace, you discovered the possibility of a future that was not just better than the past, but truly, deeply right.

Sukuna found himself looking forward to your meetings, the mundane moments that had once seemed trivial now holding a new significance. Whether it was a simple walk in the park, browsing through books together, or sharing a meal, these moments began to stitch together a new story between you, one that was quieter, more deliberate, and infinitely more meaningful.

But beneath the surface, Sukuna wrestled with his own emotions. The more time he spent with you, the more he realized just how much he had missed you—how much he had missed being close to someone who truly understood him. Yet, there was also the constant reminder that you didn’t remember him, that the memories of your past were locked away, possibly forever.

One afternoon, after you’d both finished a long walk along the river, you sat together on a bench, watching the water ripple in the sunlight. The conversation had lulled into a comfortable silence, and for a moment, Sukuna just watched you, taking in the way the light caught your hair, the serene expression on your face.

“Can I ask you something?” Sukuna finally said, breaking the silence.

You turned to him, nodding. “Of course.”

“Do you ever… feel like something’s missing? Like there’s a part of you that’s still out there, waiting to be found?”

You considered his question carefully before responding. “Sometimes.” you admitted. “There are moments when I feel like I’m on the edge of remembering something important, something that’s just out of reach. But I’ve learned to let go of the frustration. I’ve had to accept that those memories might never come back.”

Sukuna’s heart clenched at your words, the weight of your shared history pressing down on him. He wanted to tell you everything—to pour out the story of your love, the highs and lows, the way you had been everything to each other and how it had all fallen apart. But he held back, knowing that it wasn’t his place to force those memories on you.

Instead, he reached out and took your hand in his. “I don’t want to push you more than I already did.” he said quietly. “I just want you to know that I’m here, whatever happens. I’m not going anywhere this time.”

You squeezed his hand, offering him a gentle smile. “I know, Sukuna. And I appreciate that. I’ve come to trust you, even if I don’t remember our past. What matters to me now is the person you are today, the one I’m getting to know all over again.”

Those words gave Sukuna a sense of hope he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. He was no longer the man who had let his pride and anger destroy something precious. He had grown, learned from his mistakes, and now, he had a chance to show you that.

As the days passed, he became more intentional in his efforts to be there for you, to support you in ways he hadn’t before. He listened when you spoke, offered comfort when you needed it, and gave you space when you needed to process your thoughts. There was a quiet strength in the bond you were forming, a steady foundation that was being built brick by brick.

One evening, after you’d invited him over for dinner, you sat together on your couch, a comfortable silence settling between you after a long day. Sukuna glanced at you, his heart full of things he wanted to say but didn’t know how to put into words.

“I’ve been thinking….a lot.” you said suddenly, turning to face him. “About us.”

His breath caught in his throat, but he stayed quiet, waiting for you to continue. He could feel his heart pounding, the silence between you filled with unspoken tension. You looked at him tenderly, and those eyes—those eyes he had once loved so fiercely—held a warmth that stirred something deep within him. But this time, there was something different in your gaze, something he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t the same love he remembered, the love that had once consumed both of you. It was softer, more distant, as if it had been tempered by time and the loss of memories.

Sukuna wasn’t sure what that look meant, but he longed for the days when your eyes had been filled with nothing but love for him. He yearned for the intensity, the passion that had once been theirs. But deep down, he knew those days were gone, that you had changed, just as he had. And even though he wished for the impossible, he understood that the love you had once shared might never return in the way it had before.

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from hoping, from wanting you to look at him like that again, to feel that love again. But he knew, with a sinking certainty, that it was unlikely. Maybe this was his punishment, the price he had to pay for the mistakes he had made, for the years he had spent without you. Maybe fate was just that cruel, giving him a second chance only to remind him of what he had lost.

“I don’t remember our past, Sukuna.” you said softly, breaking the silence. Your voice was gentle, but there was a sincerity in it that made Sukuna’s chest tighten. “But I do know that I feel something when I’m with you. It’s not just comfort or friendship… it’s more. I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels right, being with you.”

Sukuna’s heart swelled with emotion, a mix of relief and longing coursing through him. He had waited so long to hear those words, to know that there was still something between you, even if it wasn’t exactly what he had expected. It wasn’t the grand declaration of love he had secretly hoped for, but it was something—a spark, a glimmer of the connection that had once bound you together.

He searched your face, looking for any sign of the emotions he had once known so well. But all he found was that same tender expression, tinged with a hint of uncertainty. It wasn’t love, not yet. But it was something. And for now, that was enough.

“I’m glad you feel that way.” he said, his voice thick with the emotions he was struggling to keep in check. “I don’t want to rush things, or push you to remember something that might never come back. I just… I want to be here with you, whatever that means.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I want that too, Sukuna. I don’t know what the future holds, but I’d like to find out—together.”

He felt a weight lift off his shoulders, the heavy burden of his regrets and fears easing, if only a little. This was far from the ending he had imagined, but it was a beginning, a chance to rebuild what had been lost. And maybe, just maybe, if he was patient and if he allowed things to unfold naturally, there could be something new between you, something that was just as meaningful as what you had once shared.

As you both stood there, the world around you fading into the background, Sukuna couldn’t help but think that perhaps fate wasn’t as cruel as he had feared. Maybe this was his second chance—not to reclaim the past, but to create something new, something even better than what had been before. And for the first time in years, he allowed himself to hope that this time, he wouldn’t let it slip through his fingers.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

epilogue 

A few weeks after your heartfelt conversation with Sukuna, you find yourself at a park on a sunny afternoon. Sukuna had asked you to meet him there, mentioning that his nephew, Yuji, would be joining. You had heard a lot about Yuji from Sukuna—how the kid was full of energy, always getting into something, and how Sukuna had taken on a sort of protective role in his life. You were curious to see this side of Sukuna, the man who had once been all sharp edges and intensity.

As you approach the park, you spot Sukuna first, sitting on a bench with a somewhat exasperated look on his face. Beside him is a young boy, who is clearly trying to balance on the back of the bench with one foot, arms outstretched like he’s performing some kind of circus act.

“Careful, you brat.” Sukuna warns, his tone stern but not unkind. “You’re going to break your neck.”

Yuji, grinning from ear to ear, just laughs and hops down with a flourish. “I’m invincible, Uncle Sukuna!”

“Yeah, well, let’s not test that theory.” Sukuna mutters, but there’s a fondness in his voice that catches you off guard. “Your mom and dad will kill me.”

You approach them, smiling as Yuji notices you and waves enthusiastically. “Hi! You must be the one Uncle Sukuna’s always talking about!”

“Yuji!” Sukuna snaps, looking mortified. “I do not—”

Yuji doesn’t miss a beat, cutting him off. “He totally does! He’s always like, ‘I wonder if she’s gonna remember me today,’ or ‘Maybe she’ll cook something nice again.’”

Sukuna groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Kid, do you ever stop talking?”

You can’t help but laugh at the exchange, and Sukuna’s embarrassment only makes it funnier. “Nice to meet you, Yuji!” you say, crouching down to his level. “Your uncle’s right, though. You should be careful on that bench.”

Yuji shrugs, his smile never fading. “Uncle Sukuna’s always careful too, even though he acts all tough. But he’s really soft, especially when I get hurt. You should see him panic when I stub my toe.”

“Yuji!” Sukuna’s voice is a mix of frustration and resignation, clearly regretting bringing his nephew along.

You stand up, grinning at Sukuna. “I see you’ve got a little soft spot, huh?”

“Don’t listen to him.” Sukuna mutters, glaring at Yuji, who just laughs and runs off toward the playground. “He’s a menace.”

“Sure, sure.” you tease, nudging Sukuna lightly. “But you love it.”

Sukuna sighs, watching Yuji with an expression that’s a mix of exasperation and affection. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep him out of trouble.”

You slip your hand into Sukuna’s, squeezing it gently. “You’re doing a great job, Uncle Sukuna.”

He gives you a sidelong glance, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Don’t start calling me that too.”

“No promises.” you reply, laughing as you both watch Yuji play, his laughter filling the air. It’s a side of Sukuna you never expected to see, and you find yourself growing more and more fond of the man who, despite his rough edges, is soft in all the right places.

[vani-lla-boi]

I go to UCLA and it’s insane how much the pro-Palestinian protestors had to endure. Here’s a rundown.

On early Tuesday morning, the pro-Israeli protestors (most middle aged people, not even UCLA students):

threw a biohazardous backpack full of dying mice into the encampment

hid bananas in the encampment when someone is deathly allergic to them

harassed pro-Palestinian protestors, telling them they hoped they get raped, have no life, etc.

Shot several FIREWORKS into the encampment

Used pepper spray/bear mace on protestors

Ripped apart the barricades

Beat up protestors

The police stood around for about 3 hours (1-4 AM) because UCLA didn’t give the OK to stop them (edit: found out that UCLA prohibited security from this since the FRIDAY prior)

On Tuesday night to Wednesday morning, when clearing out the encampment, the police:

Used multiple flashbangs, I’ve heard about 20

Shot 5 people in the head with rubber-covered metal bullets

Brutally beat peaceful people up with nightsticks

Used tear gas

They even brought boxes of PIZZA 🙄 because the protestors and supporters were relentless in staying on campus and tiring the police out (👏)

Just want to reiterate, I have seen absolutely no evidence of any pro-Palestinian protestors at UCLA being hostile or violent in any way, while the news and UCLA itself has framed the attacks on students as “clashes” between both sides. It’s propaganda.

Meanwhile, a video of a Zionist Jewish student who acted like they blocked access to the building conveniently didn’t follow the several people walking in the background accessing the open side and back entrances to Royce Hall. Also lots of parts of campus are closed off for different reasons often and you have to go around. It’s not a problem for an able-bodied person like him. Zionists are literally making stuff up to play the victim when it’s not even happening.

[honeybelleee]

mother’s love | p.sh

summary - yearning for warmth in a cold home, sunghoon finds solace in his kind stepmother y/n. as their bond deepens, he wrestles with the bittersweet clash of his own reality.

pairings - sunghoon x fem!reader

genre - smut, porn with plot, sort of angst(?), stepson!sunghoon x stepmom!reader, dom!sunghoon x sub!y/n

warnings - taboo themes, unstated mommy issues, minor unintentional pining, sunghoon calls reader mommy once, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), cheating, arguments, protective!sunghoon, slight voyeurism(hearing), marking, breast play, clit play, fingering (f receiving)

belle’s notes - MDNI this is 18+ content, creds to @heekilrvs aki loml for proofreading this <3

wc : 1,6 ++

sunghoon had never known the warmth of a mother’s love; his own mother had left him to navigate a lonely childhood without her comforting presence. by the time his parents divorced, he felt more relief than sorrow. he realized he hadn’t truly lost anything, only a fractured family that had never come together in the first place.

so when his father eventually announced he was remarrying, sunghoon felt a familiar caution rise within him. the last thing he wanted was to see his father endure more pain or disappointment. but the first time he met y/n, his skepticism faded. she was much younger than his father, radiantly kind and effortlessly beautiful, with a warmth that seemed to draw him in. her presence stirred something inside him—a comfort and care he hadn’t known he was missing. the way she noticed the little things about him, paid attention to his interests, and treated him with all sorts of love, it all felt new, unfamiliar, yet deeply precious.

quickly y/n became a steady presence in his life. she was there at all his soccer games, cheering him on, and she stayed up late with him while sharing snacks and conversations that filled spaces he’d long accepted as empty. there were quiet moments when he’d catch her looking at him with her doe eyes, which happen to be his favorite features of hers. her kindness, patience, and nurturing nature anchored something he’d never experienced before—a sense of family that didn’t feel forced or fragile.

but as perfect as y/n seemed for him, sunghoon couldn’t ignore the way his father treated her. at first, their arguments were quiet; murmurs exchanged behind closed doors, but they soon grew louder, spilling over into raised voices and sharp words. each fight chipped away something inside of sunghoon, and it hurts to see the sadness in y/n’s expression. he couldn’t stand it; more often than not, he found himself stepping in to defend her, only to have his father’s frustration turn on him, cutting him down with the same harsh reminder, “she’s not your real mom, sunghoon. don’t forget that.”

he despises those words, yet they only fueled a new sense of protectiveness within him. over the months, his loyalty to y/n grew, along with a connection that sometimes left him feeling conflicted. but more than anything, sunghoon knew he wanted y/n to feel valued, cherished, and loved. if no one else would make her feel that way, he was determined to do it himself. he knew she deserved the best and nothing less.

during nighttime, he would hear y/n and his father making up, their arguments turning into muffled love sounds that filtered through the walls.

sunghoon who was lying awake in the dark, could hear it all—the sighs, the faint gasps, the strained moans—but also the lack of chemistry when it was over. he noticed the way she emerged from their bedroom afterwards, her expression a mixture of sadness and resignation. he knew then that she was never truly satisfied, not with his father and not in the life she had found herself in.

the unfairness of it all shattered every emotional barrier he’d ever built, leaving him caught in a turmoil of forbidden feelings. sunghoon felt himself inching closer to a choice he wasn’t sure he could resist any longer, teetering on the edge of a line he never thought he’d consider crossing. he had tried to hold back, to stay respectful of his father, with hope that things might change. but each instance of his father’s unloving action towards y/n scratched away his restraints.

he couldn’t stand by as she suffered quietly, watching her hold back tears, trying to stay strong even when he could see how much it hurt her. the feel to protect her deepened every time he saw her forced smile, and the more he witnessed his father’s mistreatment, the less he cared about consequences; he would risk it all if it meant giving her the love and attention she deserved.

the house was filled with tension from yet another argument; his father had come home late, irritated and dismissive. as they argued, sunghoon saw the weak gaze in y/n’s eyes while she made an attempt to fix their relationship.

his father stormed out, leaving y/n alone in the silence, and sunghoon couldn’t hold back. he stepped into the living room, his face darkening as he took in her defeated posture and the lingering pain in her expression. she looked up, surprised but grateful, offering him a soft, weary smile.

“what happened?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with concern. she explained the argument, her words halting as she tried to hold back her emotions. sunghoon listened, his jaw clenched, anger simmering beneath the surface. “i can’t believe he’d treat you like that,” he murmured, the intensity in his gaze catching her by surprise. “you deserve so much better.”

she looked at him, shocked by the intensity in his gaze. for a moment, his face softened, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made her heart ache. he stepped forward, his presence comforting and grounding her.

without another word, sunghoon crossed the room, gently taking the wine glass from her hand and setting it aside. his fingers brushed against hers, a small touch that sent a spark down her spine. “i’m always here for you y/n,” he said, his voice soft yet firm. his eyes held hers, and in that moment, the years of kindness and warmth she’d shown him felt like they were finally reaching a point of no return.

and before she could respond, he leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that held all the bottled-up feelings he’d harbored. it was a kiss filled with longing, something he’d always felt for her but could no longer keep hidden.

breaking the kiss, sunghoon rained playful yet savage kisses along her jawline and down her slender neck, leaving visible marks of possession with every suck and nip of his hungry lips. his hands found her heavy breasts, and he marveled at their fullness. he cupped them, massaging them with his palms, feeling the weight and softness of her luscious globes. her nipples already hard and erect from the attention, as she begged for more.

with deliberate slowness, he lowered his head, taking one taut peak into his hot mouth. he teased it with his tongue, licking, sucking, and gently biting, causing y/n to cry out in pleasure as her hands tightened on his shoulders. he lavished attention on one breast while his dexterous fingers rolled and pinched the other, making her squirm with desire.

the pleasure was overwhelming for y/n, who had been starved of such intimate attention for far too long. her body reacted fiercely to sunghoon's skilled touch, the aching emptiness between her thighs screaming for relief. as if reading her mind, sunghoon switched his attention to her other breast, giving it the same treatment while his hand slid down her body, eventually reaching her wet core.

he teased her through the lace panties, rubbing her swollen clit in circular motions, delighting in how drenched she was for him. y/n's breath came in short, desperate gasps, and she rocked her hips against his hand, imploring him for more. he slid his fingers under her already ruined panties, making direct contact with her slick folds, causing her to moan loudly.

"sunghoon..." she breathed his name like a prayer, threading her fingers through his hair, urging him on.

he added another finger, stretching her, preparing her for what was to come. his fingers worked her rhythmically, building her pleasure to an unbearable crescendo. she writhed under his touch, her lithe body a vision of raw, untamed lust. with a final flick of his fingers against her sweet spot, y/n's body shattered, convulsing in an intense orgasm, her cries filling the silent night.

but sunghoon was far from done. he wanted to mark her as his and plant his seed deep within her. with a growl, he stood up, quickly shedding his clothes, revealing his chiseled body and hard-strained cock. y/n's eyes widened at the sight of his impressive length, already glistening with pre-cum at the tip.

she reached for him, taking him in her hand, stroking his length, admiring how he throbbed and twitched under her touch. "i need this inside me," she whispered, her voice hoarse with desire.

sunghoon didn't need any more invitations. he positioned himself between her legs, his cock nudging at her entrance. with a single powerful thrust, he impaled her, burying himself deep within her moist heat. y/n's eyes rolled back as she felt every inch of him stretching her, filling her in ways her husband never could.

he set a relentless pace, pounding into her, his balls slapping against her ass with each thrust. the force of his possession drove her to new heights of ecstasy. her breasts bounced rhythmically, the nipples rubbing against his sweaty chest, providing additional stimulation.

sunghoon leaned forward, capturing a sensitive nipple in his mouth, sucking strongly as he continued to ravage her body. "fuck mommy, you feel so good," he grunted, his breath hot against her skin.

y/n's hands dug into his back, her nails scraping his skin as she urged him to go harder, deeper. the house echoed with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, their moans, and the wet lewd sounds of their coupling.

sunghoon felt the familiar tightening in his balls, signaling his impending release. he wanted to mark her and claim her in a way that even her beast of a husband couldn't ignore. with a final frenzied thrust, he spilled his hot seed deep inside her, filling her womb as he groaned her name.

spent, he collapsed onto her, his cock still twitching inside her. y/n held him close, running her hands through his hair, whispering words of adoration and thanks. they dozed off on the couch, naked and sated, finally finding solace in each other's arms.

sunghoon said pretty girls like/comment/reblog!

perm taglist - @ancnymcnzjy @june19190 @wiccangirl29 @shjsnjkj

@kpopiedictionary - hope u like this one bae 😍

©honeybelleee on tumblr!

[monarchberrysblog]

Hmo but

What if Miguel finds out you used to date the Harry Osborn from your world? You and Harry used to date but broke up on friendly terms but then you meet sometime where Miguel’s visiting your world for a date, and then his possessive instinct is like: She’s mine 😏

Then ✨smut✨ and ofc he has a marking kink

INTERLINKED

credit to @r3ds_art_ on Twitter and Instagram!

✭ 🔞 Miguel O’Hara x fem! Reader ✭

✮ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: possessive (adj.) → demanding someone’s total attention and love. having the knowledge that you used to be with someone left a sour taste in miguel’s mouth. especially knowing that you are still in good terms with them to this day.

✭ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: biting kink? (idk what it’s called), cumplay (?), unprotective p-in-v, semi-exhibitionism (y'all get caught), possessive behavior (kinda?)

✭ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: +1.7k words

✭ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: mwehehehe (once again, if there are errors i apologize in advance as i felt like i read this multiple times and don't see any errors) enjoy!

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 | 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃

Harry was your first love. Something so fleeing that if you were to blink or glance at it, it disappeared instantly. It blurred into your life the way acrylic colors blended to create a clash of colors like a summer evening in July. It was all tangy and sweet, with a scalding, sweaty undertone. Beautiful yet uncomfortable to endure.

He was sweet, resembling a sweet syrup in any refresher you would get in a coffee shop. Sweet, yet messy. The sap wasn't noticeable until it became unbearable to have in between your fingers.

Enduring the sappy-like texture on the tip of your fingers, wiping the mess clean from your skin, bonding with Henry became inevitable. You didn't want to let him go, but it was for the better for each other.

But after growing out of each other, things ended with a silver lining—growing and learning within a long distance from each other.

Then, you met Miguel.

Another man from another dimension.

Meeting someone from another world was not on your bucket list, let alone in the span of goals you had for the next few years or so. But Miguel managed to tergiversate his way into your plans (and heart). He fit right into your life like a puzzle piece you didn't know was missing.

And you love it.

/

“Is your dish okay? Because if it isn't, I can send it back and—” You fade his rambles with a gentle touch on his hand. “Yes, it's perfect Migs. Thank you.” The sound of cutlery clicking on the white ceramic plates complimented the ambiance of the warm-lit dining area.

Small chatter created a cozy environment that made anyone lull to sleep. “And please, don't yell at the chef like last time.” You forcefully giggle and can almost imagine the events playing out like a storyboard.

“They didn't give you the grilled chicken fillet.” He grumbles, looking away from his dish and to the side, keeping his gaze on the maroon carpet. “Hey,” You gently cupped his cheek, disregarding your silverware. “It’s okay. Sometimes, we make mistakes on off days. It's nothing new.”

“I know,” He pouts. “I just want you to have a warm meal.”

“And I'm grateful for your well-being. Just don't yell at the chef and make them cry again. Please.” You plead, gently rubbing his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb. “…okay.” He grumbles in defeat, taking your hand away from his face and gently holding your hand with a reassuring squeeze.

“I won’t.”

/

You worked on your dish, taking in pasta forkfuls and grilled chicken. Miguel keeps a close eye while eating his dish, savoring his fillet mignon. You basked in the silence, probably in your little world while with him. But a single greeting broke the mellow silence. “Hey,”

It wasn't just a simple “Hey” to get someone’s attention. Instead, it was an exasperated one. The exhale is a sign of relief—the relief of seeing someone familiar after a long period of time. A sigh that read, “Oh, it's been a while; I missed seeing you..”

Miguel’s head turned for him without his brain enabling his thought process. “Oh, hey, Harry.” You smile, showing off your little dimples to him. “What brings you here?” Harry makes his way over to the two of you, unaware of the daggers that Miguel was throwing at him. “I’m here with Miguel. My boyfriend.”

Harry turns his attention to your aggravated partner, oblivious to the aura Miguel sent. “Already moved on? That was fast.”

Not an amusing joke, even for Harry. He lets out a forced laugh, hoping to drown out the awkward air around them—it only made it more suffocating to be in that bubble. “It's been a couple of years.” You laughed, trying to ease the unsteady environment. But it was laughable beyond that point.

While exchanging words, Harry’s wavering eyes remained on you, taking in every feature about you. “You work here?” You ask as you look up at Harry. “As a server only.”

Your smile, cute dimples, everything caught Harry’s attention. It felt like he was looking at the playing field and wondering if he was about to get to second base. The conversation dragged like a snail, going slowly for Miguel.

“But it was nice seeing you.” The only best solution was stepping on the awkward waters rising as Harry nodded and sighed. “Yes, it was nice seeing you too. But let me know if you guys need anything.” With a simple nod, he walks off almost in a rushed manner.

/

“Jesus.” Miguel was now away from the warm dining area of the restaurant and now in the men’s room. He stood in the handicap stall momentarily, burying his face into his palms. The last thing he needed to happen was for you to lecture him on his behavior, especially now that Harry had dropped by unannounced.

“You’re exaggerating, you're exaggerating.” He repeats the mantra, sounding like a possessed man. If anyone were to walk in, some eye brows would have been raised. But after repeating the phrase a couple more times, he stops and rubs his eyes, much to his doctor's dismay about the habit.

“It's fine.” He thinks, reaching for the stall door to step out. But the sound of a familiar voice and a different voice enter the washroom. “Who was that woman who you greeted earlier?”

“An ex,” Harry states matter of factly.

“You miss her, don't you?” The other voice inquires as if they anticipated drama. “I've seen the way you look at her.” The other voice adds. “Yeah, but just as friends! It's been a while since we last spoke.”

A little, just a little?

“But she's with someone else.” Harry stumbles his words, attempting to redeem his words.

“And you don't seem okay with that.” A lingering silence suffocates space immediately. A sigh from Harry fills the space, shattering the awkwardness.

“I'm okay with it. I just miss her company.”

The corner of Miguel’s lip subtly twitches, a sign of irritation. He waits, waiting for the two men to finish their discussion. It wasn't until ten minutes later that they finally left. Almost as if he were following behind, Miguel steps out of the stall silently, feeling his senses get overwhelmed with his typical possessive return once again.

/

“Keep it down for me, bebe. Can you do that for me?” He bites down on your neck and nibbles on your skin. The flat of his tongue lathers against the bite crevices, soothing the dull, aching pain. “Your canines…” Your comment fell silent before his lips kissed the now red mark against your flesh before his hands worked quickly to raise the hem of your skirt. “Shhh, we don't need to get kicked out, do we?” He whispers. The family bathroom immediately got filled with scuffles and moving around of clothes. His ring and pointer finger ghost at your clothed cunt, dragging the tips of his fingers down your entrance, feeling the dampness.

“I just bit you, and you’re all riled up? Pobrecita.” He pouts to you and slowly moves the gusset of your underwear to the side gently with a tug. “Just keep it down for me, okay? Can you do that for me?” His gentle movements drew out soft whines and moans from your mouth like word vomit while his fingers traced your entrance, drawing out your glistening arousal.

"Just be quiet for me," he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, helping himself to another bite of your soft skin. He follows his fingers, delving into your fluttering wall, eagerly taking his fingers in. "Shhh..." The sound of wet, sticky gushes fills the family room bathroom, with your mess dripping down onto the floor and occasionally on the bathroom wall.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, occasionally feeling his two fingers curl slightly. You bit down on your bottom lip, humming out your pleasure to the rhythm of his finger moving in and out.

"Don't make a mess, I don't want you to ruin my watch."

The soft thrusting of his fingers moved rapidly, pulling his fingers out completely before shoving his fingers back into your needy pussy. The rapid thrusts became too much, releasing your mess along with your cum all over the floor before you. "Ay, ya te dije." He pulls his fingers out, shaking his hand dry and lifting you up on the sink counter. "I told you to not make a mess." He put a resting finger against your fluttering core, lightly pushing down to soothe the stretch.

"Spread for me a bit, nena." He whispers and grasps onto your thighs, helping you. You could already imagine the mess you left behind the counter, leaving a glistening mess on the marble. You open up for him with a meek "Okay." You feel your legs trembling against the cold marble. You watch on as Miguel hurries to take off his pants, shoving the pants down quickly and dragging you close to his aching member.

A soft moan escaped your lips, feeling his length rub against your core and clit, lightly thrusting his length in between your entrance. "Let me just prepare myself," He whispers, slowly collecting your slick against his length. You let out a whine before you let out a moan, feeling his tip occasionally slip in between your folds. He thrusted his tip in a couple more times before he continued to grind his length against your clit.

“There we go. Let’s get you comfortable.” He whispers into your ear before he slowly pushes himself in, earning a loud moan from you. He immediately covered your mouth, muffling your beautiful sounds.

“Shh, be good and keep it down.” He whispers while gently pushing his tip against your cervix, occasionally earning a soft cry in pain. You felt him slowly pull out and keep a gentle pace. “Is that better, nena?” He croons into your ear. He grinds his length into you, trying to keep your moans and mews at a limit.

“So good, cariño.” He whispers. “Come on, hold on for a while.” His fingers trace the soft red marks on your neck, putting pressure to soothe the pain.

“I want us to be in here for a moment.”

/

The two of y'all rushed out of the bathroom, getting chased out of the restaurant by two servers. “And get out of here! Never come back!” They yell out as soon as the two of you scurry out while adjusting your clothes. You exchanged breathy laughs with each other when you felt the cold air nip at your skin.

“I told you to keep it down.”

[moonselune]

Hello seluney you godess you, I find that in bg3 the lack of being able to comfort our party after major events is shameful. Like I want to give all of them hugs after their personal quests and only shadowheart gets that after her parents but what about when she left her godess yk? Astarion after cazador karlach after gortash, minthara after orin ect. Please seluney give our gang the comfort they deserve (I feel jaheira when she says she's tired like lemme hug her)

You plea has been answered, I only hope I have done it justice

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The battle was over, the air still thick with the scent of blood and the echoes of clashing steel fading into the night. Gortash lay defeated, his ambitions shattered, Bane had abandoned him. You turned to find Karlach, her eyes fierce yet filled with a deep-seated anguish. She stood over Gortash’s lifeless body, her shoulders heaving with the weight of years of torment and betrayal. After she had lashed out at you, you approached her slowly, your heart aching for the torment she endured.

"Karlach," you called softly, reaching out a hand to her. Her fiery gaze softened when she saw you, and she let out a shuddering breath.

Without a word, she fell into your arms, her powerful frame trembling. You held her tightly, feeling the heat of her body against yours. She buried her face in your shoulder, her breath hot against your neck.

"It’s over," you murmured, gently stroking her back. "You did it, Karlach. You’re free."

She clung to you, her tears soaking into your clothes. "I never thought… I never thought I’d see the day," she choked out. "He’s gone, but the things he did to me… the things I’ve done because of him."

You pulled back just enough to cup her face in your hands, looking into her eyes with unwavering love. "You’re so much stronger than he ever was," you said softly. "You’ve fought so hard and survived so much. None of that defines you. You are more than your past, and you have a future now—a future we can build together."

Karlach nodded, her tears subsiding as she drew strength from your words. She leaned into your touch, her eyes closing as she absorbed your comfort. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for being here with me, for loving me despite everything."

You kissed her forehead, your lips lingering on her warm skin. "Always, Karlach. I’ll always be here for you."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The eerie silence in the Bhaal temple was broken only by the labored breathing of your party. Orin’s twisted form lay still, the crimson of her blood mingling with the dark earth. Minthara stood over the body, her usual composed demeanor shattered by a torrent of emotions. You approached Minthara cautiously, her back to you as she stared at Orin’s corpse. Or at least what was left of it.

"Minthara," you called softly, reaching out to touch her shoulder. She flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. Slowly, she turned to face you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"She… she twisted everything," Minthara whispered, her voice barely audible. "Everything I believed in, everything I fought for."

Without hesitation, you pulled her into your arms, holding her tightly as she trembled against you. "It’s over now," you murmured into her hair. "Orin’s gone. She can’t hurt you anymore."

Minthara clung to you, her fingers digging into your back as if afraid you might vanish.

"I was so lost," she admitted, her voice breaking. "I did terrible things, believed her lies… How can you even stand to look at me?"

You pulled back slightly, cupping her face in your hands and forcing her to meet your gaze.

"Because I see you, Minthara," you said firmly. "I see the strength, the courage, the heart that refused to break despite everything. You are not defined by what she made you do. You are so much more."

Tears finally spilled down her cheeks, and she leaned into your touch, her defenses crumbling.

"I… I don’t know how to be anything else," she confessed, her voice a mere whisper.

"Then let me help you," you replied softly, wiping her tears away with your thumb. "Let us find the way together. You don’t have to be alone anymore."

Minthara nodded, her grip on you tightening as she found solace in your embrace. "Thank you," she whispered. "For not giving up on me."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

The revelation hit Lae'zel like a tidal wave, her entire world turned upside down by the truth of Vlaakith’s betrayal. She stood, rigid and silent, staring into the distance with eyes that no longer saw the familiar landscape but the shattered remains of her beliefs.

"Lae'zel," you called softly, stepping into her line of sight. Her eyes flickered to you, filled with confusion and pain. Without a word, you reached out and took her hand, offering a silent promise of support. She looked down at your joined hands, her lips trembling.

"Everything I’ve ever known… It was all a lie," she whispered, her voice breaking. "My queen, my purpose… all for nothing."

You pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her as if you could shield her from the harsh reality.

"Not for nothing," you murmured against her. "You fought for what you believed was right. Your strength, your courage—they are still real. Vlaakith’s betrayal doesn’t change who you are."

Lae'zel clung to you, her rigid stance softening as she allowed herself to be vulnerable.

"I feel lost," she admitted, her voice barely audible. "I don’t know what to do now."

You pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, your hands resting on her shoulders.

"We’ll figure it out together," you promised. "You are not alone, Lae'zel. We’ll find a new path, a new purpose. One that is true and just."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she nodded, her grip on you tightening.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For believing in me, even when I can’t believe in myself."

You pressed your forehead against hers, a gesture of solidarity and love. "Always," you said softly. "I will always believe in you, Lae'zel."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

The air was thick with tension and sorrow as Shadowheart stood at the edge of the camp, her eyes filled with a storm of emotions. The decision to turn away from Shar, even at the cost of her parents' lives, weighed heavily on her. She looked lost, vulnerable in a way you had rarely seen.

"Shadowheart," you called gently, reaching out to her.

She turned to you, tears streaming down her face, her normally composed demeanor shattered. Without a word, you pulled her into a tight embrace, feeling her body tremble against yours.

"I'm here," you whispered, your voice filled with all the love and support you could muster. "You don't have to face this alone."

Shadowheart clung to you, her fingers digging into your back as if you were her lifeline. "I… I thought I was doing the right thing," she choked out. "But it cost me everything."

You gently cupped her face, your thumbs wiping away her tearss, trying not to tear up at the sight of her.

"You did the bravest thing anyone could do," you said softly, your voice trembling slightly. "You chose to be true to yourself, to be free from Shar, even when it meant losing what you loved most. That, my love, takes incredible strength."

Her eyes searched yours, finding solace in your unwavering gaze. "But my parents…"

"They would be proud of you, Shadowheart. Proud that you had the courage to make your own choices. And I am proud of you too." You assured her with a force that was tender and caring.

She nodded, tears still falling but her expression softening with your words. You pulled her close, the warmth of your embrace a balm to her wounded soul.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

The news of the Harper infiltration hit like a bolt of lightening. Jaheira stood in the center of the camp, her posture rigid, her eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and betrayal. She had always been a pillar of strength and wisdom, but this revelation had shaken her to the core.

You approached her cautiously, understanding the depth of her distress.

"Jaheira," you called firmly, walking into her line of sight. She looked at you, her eyes filled with a rare vulnerability.

"I'm fine." She said, though her words betrayed her, you could see tears build in her eyes and you tilted your head at her.

"You are not fine and that is ok, my love." You told her, Jaheira opened her mouth to retort with something sharp and bitter but a choked cry came out instead. Without hesitation, you pulled her into a comforting embrace, feeling the tension in her body slowly ease. "I'm so sorry, I can't imagine how this must feel."

Jaheira sighed deeply, allowing her tears to fall freely, leaning into your touch. "They were like family to me," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "And now… I don't know who to trust."

You held her tighter, your hand gently rubbing her back. "We'll figure this out together," you assured her. "I promise."

"Thank you," she said softly. She pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes with a mixture of gratitude and determination.

You smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "Always, Jaheira. You're not alone in this. We'll get through it together."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

Gale stood by the riverbank, the moonlight casting a silvery glow on his contemplative face. The decision to turn away from Mystra had been monumental, and you could see the weight of it bearing down on him. He looked both relieved and uncertain, a man standing at the crossroads of his destiny.

You approached him quietly, your heart swelling with pride for the choice he had made. You knew it was hard for him but you couldn't help but also feel happy for him.

"Gale," you called softly, coming to stand beside him. He turned to you, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. Without a word, you pulled him into a warm hug, feeling the tension in his body slowly melt away.

"You did it," you whispered, your voice filled with admiration. "You chose your own path."

Gale hugged you back tightly, his breath hitching slightly. "It feels… liberating but terrifying," he admitted. "To turn away from a god, from everything I've ever known."

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, your hands resting on his shoulders.

"You are so much more than your connection to Mystra," you said firmly. "You are brilliant, brave, and capable of incredible things on your own."

A small smile tugged at his lips, his eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and hope. "You really believe that?"

You nodded, your smile widening. "Absolutely. You have the power to shape your own destiny, Gale. And I believe in you, more than anything."

Gale's smile grew, his confidence bolstered by your words. "Thank you," he said softly. "For believing in me, even when I couldn't."

You hugged him again, the warmth of your embrace filling him with renewed strength. "Always," you replied. "I'm here with you, every step of the way, my love."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The room was dimly lit, the flickering torches casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. Astarion stood over Cazador's lifeless body, his chest heaving, his eyes wild with a mix of triumph and terror. Blood splattered his face, his hands still clutching the dagger that had finally ended his tormentor's reign.

"Astarion," you called, your voice breaking through the haze of his fury. He looked at you, his eyes wide and filled with a desperate need for reassurance.

Without a word, you reached out, gently taking the bloodied dagger from his trembling hand. "It's over," you whispered, pulling him into your arms. "He's gone."

Astarion clung to you, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. "I… I couldn't stop," he choked out. "I couldn't stop."

You held him tighter, your hand gently stroking his hair. "It's okay, it's okay" you murmured. "You did what you had to do. You're free now."

His tears soaked into your shirt as he buried his face in your chest, his sobs wracking his body.

"I had to, he had to die, he had to suffer," he whispered, his voice filled with anguish.

You wiped the blood from his face with your fingers, your touch gentle and soothing. "You did what you needed to survive, and I am so proud of you"

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, your heart breaking for the pain he had endured. You did what you could, you held him, you reassured him, you loved him. Promising him that one day this will all just be a distant memory.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

Wyll stood by the campfire, his face a mask of disbelief and betrayal. The revelation that The Emperor, the mindflayer who had been manipulating you all, used to be the hero Balduran had shaken him to his core. He had idolized Balduran, and now the truth left him reeling. You approached him quietly, your heart heavy with sympathy.

"Wyll," you called softly, coming to stand beside him. He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of hurt and confusion. Without a word, you took his hand, your touch a gentle reminder that he wasn't alone.

"I know this is hard," you said softly. "But the hero you believed in still exists. It's you, Wyll."

He looked at you, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice tinged with desperation.

You squeezed his hand, your gaze steady and reassuring. "You have the same courage, the same strength, and the same heart that you admired in Balduran," you explained. "You are the better man, because you've faced so much and still choose to fight for what's right."

Wyll's eyes filled with tears, his expression softening with your words. "I just… I wanted to be like him," he whispered.

You pulled him into a comforting embrace, your heart aching for his pain. "You are a hero, Wyll," you said firmly. "In every sense of the word."

He clung to you, his tears soaking into your shoulder. "Thank you," he murmured. "Thank you for believing in me."

"Always, my love," You assure him, pressing a kiss to his temple, rubbing his back gently. "And I will always be the there to remind you, if you ever dare to forget it."

Wyll laughed lightly, murmering in your embrace "I'm sure you will, my love."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The weight of the Shadowcurse had finally been lifted, but the aftermath left Halsin standing amidst the ruins, his heart heavy with sorrow. The destruction it had caused was immense, and the lives lost weighed heavily on his conscience.

"Halsin," you called to him, coming to stand beside him. He looked at you, his eyes filled with a deep sadness. Without a word, you reached out, taking his large hand in yours. "It's over," you said gently. "The curse is lifted."

"You are right, my heart," Halsin sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his grief. "But the destruction it caused… so many lives lost," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You pulled him into a comforting embrace, your touch gentle and reassuring. "You did everything you could," you said softly. "You fought to lift the curse, and now there's a chance for healing."

He held you tightly, his body trembling with the force of his emotions. "I just wish I could have done more," he whispered.

You gently stroked his back, your touch soft and tender. "You did more than anyone else could have," you assured him. "And now, we can work together to rebuild and restore what was lost."

Halsin looked at you, his eyes filled with gratitude and a glimmer of hope. "Thank you," he said softly. "For being here, for understanding."

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Always," you replied. "We'll face this together, and we'll come out stronger on the other side."

Halsin nodded, his expression softening with your words. "With you by my side, I know we can," he said, his voice filled with renewed determination. "Thank you, my love."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

oooof, hope you enjoyed this ! - Seluney xox

[tripeakathlete]

Race Prep: Weekend Training Sessions Overview (Oct 4 - 6, 2024)

Hello Team, As we continue our preparation for the upcoming races, I’d like to share the schedule for this weekend’s training sessions. These workouts are designed to optimize your performance and to align with our training goals. Friday: 6:30 am – Lucky’s Lake Swim: Join us for an invigorating open water swim session. Build endurance and focus on stroke efficiency. Please arrive at 6:15 am.…

[astrolovecosmos]

*Venus Natal Aspect Snippets*

*Sun can only semi-sextile, semi-square, or conjunct Venus. Moon Trine Venus: Likely very social, is open to new relationships, and is a cooperative individual. Can be highly creative, may be a little vain, and is likely very romantic. Can be overindulgent, may not be good at emotionally handling pressure or conflict, and can be driven to people pleasing tendencies due to their need for connection or a fear of loneliness. This aspect is known for being favorable in making close bonds or with romance.

Moon Opposite Venus: Might find themselves in relationships where they feel torn between wanting emotional closeness and needing personal space. Can lack confidence in themselves romantically or within relationships. Can struggle with dependency or co-dependency. Can be a sensitive, understanding, and welcoming person despite this aspect's challenges.

Moon Square Venus: May be hot and cold in their relationships. Can struggle with stability or balance in their relationships and emotional world. Can struggle with self-discipline or give into escapism often. May run away from conflict. Can be good at channeling their frustrations into art. Can be good at giving advice but tends to not follow their own wisdom.

Mercury Trine Venus: A great aspect for diplomacy, negotiation, and forming connections through meaningful conversations. Be careful of underestimating others, loose lips, and relying too much on persuasion. *venus can't oppose or square mercury in a natal chart

Venus Opposite Mars: Conflicting feelings, thoughts, and energies in your attraction and desires. Need to focus on what matters most to you in others and relationships.

Venus Square Mars: The friction between Mars's energy and Venus's harmony can result in romantic conflicts, impulsiveness, or difficulty finding balance between assertion and affection. Focus on what makes both you and your loved one's happy together.

Venus Trine Mars: This aspect often means chemistry and creativity in romantic and collaborative endeavors. Be careful of assuming others are on your level for love and passion until you know them more. Other's may also be intimidated or jealous of your confidence or self-acceptance.

Venus Opposite Jupiter: There might be a struggle between expansion and moderation. You could feel drawn toward indulgence, extravagance, or over-optimism, taking risks in relationships or security. But you may also equally fear taking big risks in your relationships. It's a challenge to balance pleasure with restraint.

Venus Square Jupiter: May have unrealistic expectations of their loved ones or relationships, things can get messy in their relationships FAST, doesn't know when to stop. Needs to be highly mindful of their desires and behavior. Expand with a plan.

Venus Trine Jupiter: Known to be a beneficial aspect for social interactions, attracting opportunities, and fostering good fortune in love and financial matters. A "good luck" type of placement in the chart. Be careful about being overly generous to where others take advantage of you. You may also have a foolhardy side in relationships somehow. Don't let things get to your head in relationships.

Venus Opposite Saturn: It can be difficult to express romantic feelings and accept love, gratitude, or generosity. Can easily feel lonely, isolated, or negative in their relationships. May need more reassurance than they are willing to admit.

Venus Square Saturn: May have challenges in establishing stability and commitment in relationships. Saturn's restraint and seriousness can clash with Venus's desire for warmth and affection. This square makes it hard to fulfill emotional needs in relationships. Expressing wants and needs more is vital.

Venus Trine Saturn: Encourages a realistic approach to love, with a focus on long-term goals and responsible choices. It's beneficial for building enduring relationships and finding structure in creative or financial pursuits. Not being honest with oneself and/or falling into being around those who do not share your values or goals can be a challenge.

Venus Opposite Uranus: Uranus is the planet of sudden changes, which can disrupt the harmony Venus seeks. Relationships might experience sudden upheavals, or you might feel restless and desire more freedom often. It's important to find lovers, friends, and family who support your need for space, learning, and/or change.

Venus Square Uranus: Emotional closeness can be hard. Always finds themselves falling in and out of love or fascination. Inner and outer stability vs. instability is a common battle that needs to be fought.

Venus Trine Uranus: This aspect often leads to unexpected yet positive developments in relationships. This aspect may bless someone with an unpredictable, exciting, and different kind of love life. Can promote a lot of independence as well. May struggle with their more predictable, traditional, or cautious loved ones. Could have a complicated relationship with open-mindedness and acceptance among their loved ones.

Venus Opposite Neptune: Reality and fantasy can clash and cause frustrations in your relationships. Be careful of putting others on pedestal.

Venus Square Neptune: May run into unrealistic expectations, deception, or disappointment in relationships. Being more realistic and grounded in your relationships may be needed.

Venus Trine Neptune: Creates a dreamy, romantic energy. It can enhance creativity, intuition, and empathy in relationships. It's an excellent aspect for artistic pursuits, spirituality, and finding beauty. This placement can still struggle with illusions and manipulation like many other Neptune placements.

Venus Opposite Pluto: There can be intense emotional power struggles in relationships. There can also be profound transformations or challenges in many of your relationships that lead to empowerment and self-mastery.

Venus Square Pluto: Associated with control, power dynamics, jealousy, and possessiveness in relationships. Needs to learn to manage their own intensity when it gets out of control or unhealthy. Or may need to learn how to listen to themselves more in relationships, follow their intuition/heart.

Venus Trine Pluto: Intense and passionate in their relationships but in a way that is magnetic, sexy, and maybe commanding. It's a great aspect for deepening intimacy and fostering meaningful growth in relationships. But those with this placement can become unchanging or controlling in their relationships too. Their attachments may usually be harmonious or loving but they can also be extremely strong.

[drowning-in-paragraphs]

(UN)FINISHED BUSINESS

PART 2: (UN)FINISHED CHEMISTRY

• jude bellingham x exgf!reader

• warnings: maybe a little bit toxic? nothing alarming. But English is still not my first language.

• summary: When forced to do an Adidas campaign together, Jude and his ex-girlfriend clash over unresolved tension and venomous words, igniting old wounds. However, their chemistry is undeniable beneath that professional facade.

The bright lights of the studio beat down with a harsh, sterile intensity. It was the kind of artificial brightness that made every flaw visible, every tense glance impossible to miss. The photographer called for adjustments to the set, the stylists hovered nearby, and the air conditioner hummed in the background―a soothing contrast to the palpable tension that dominated the room.

Jude Bellingham stood tall at one side, his body language exuding ease and confidence, though his eyes burned with an intensity that had nothing to do with the camera. He was dressed in head-to-toe Adidas gear, a sleeck black tracksuit that clung to his athletic frame, his hands casually in his pockets. His dark eyes, however, were fixed on the woman standing a few feet away―her.

His ex.

She´d tried so hard to appear unaffected when she walked in, her expression carefully schooled into professionalism. Dressed in a matching Adidas apparel, her perfectly combed hair that framed her lightly made up face minutes before, she looked the picture of calm. But the way her fingers tightened around the water bottle in her hand betrayed her. Jude had always known how to read her.

He forced himself to stop looking at her. Her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, the Adidas outfit hugging her in all the right places, accentuating her figure in ways that Jude was painfully aware of. His jaw clenched.

It had been months since they last saw each other. Months since the vicious breakup that left them both battered emotionally. The fallout had been public and brutal―spilled out into the tabloids, whispered about in interviews. Yet, here they were, forced to endure each other´s presence for the sake of their contract with Adidas. The irony wasn´t lost on any of them. They had signed for the brand long before their messy split. Neither of them had been smart enough to consider the long-term consequences. Now, they were stuck together, fake smiles plastered across their faces for the cameras and a product niether of them gave a damn about.

They used to be a power couple, that´s why they were hired in the first place. Now they were just exes with unfinished business and buried resentment that resurfaced when they looked at each other for more than three seconds.

"Perfect, now, Jude can you step a little closer to her? We need chemistry to really come through in these shots," the photographer called out, adjusting his lens.

Chemistry. The word lingered in the air like smoke. Jude´s lips twitched into something that could´ve been a smirk if it wasn´t so bitter. Chemistry. Right. There was plenty of that, but not the kind Adidas was hoping for.

He stepped closer, catching a whiff of her perfume―the same one she used to wear when they were together. The same one he had gifted her once. It was ridiculous how something so small could throw him off balance. She glanced up, her eyes catching his for a split second before she looked away. But it was enough. Tension crackled between them, so sharp and undeniable that they both wondered how everyone in the room wasn't as overwhelmed as they were.

"Closer please," the photographer asked again.

This time, she swallowed hard and obeyed moving toward him. Jude stood there, hands in his pockets, still, his gaze intense, his presence infuriatingly cool. It took everything in her not to react to him.

Not to flinch when his scent, familiar and exasperatingly intoxicating, hit her. That same cologne that she used to love.

Professionalism. That was the only thing keeping her from walking out of this room.

"Close enough for you?" Jude asked, with his voice low, just for her to hear, laced with a mocking smile. She avoided rolling her eyes. That was his way of dealing with things, she knew it well. Acting as if nothing had happened, even upsetting her, when in reality, his anger was eating away at him.

"Perfect," the photographer chimed in, unaware of the undercurrent swirling between the two. "Now, you should put your arm around her, and you should lean into him a bit. Make it look natural, like you´re both having a good time."

She almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Good time? There was no such thing between them anymore. She tensed as Jude´s arm snaked around her waist, his fingers grazing her side. For a moment, they felt natural, as if his hand belonged there. The touch sent sparks flying across her skin―both the kind that burned an the kind that made her stomach twist in an old, familiar way.

He leaned closer when the photographer looked at the pictures, lips brushing her ear. "This used to be easy."

She didn’t even deign to look at him, a faint smile playing on her lips as the camera clicked. “Don’t talk to me,” she said, her voice dripping with impatience. “I just want this to be over as soon as possible. I have things to do.”

"Hmm." Jude gave a nonchalant shrug, his voice dripping with false understanding. "Got it. Wouldn’t want to keep that benchwarmer of a boyfriend of yours waiting too long, right?" He turned his gaze back to the camera, clearly unfazed by her possible reaction. "I thought it would take you a little bit more to move on..."

Her pulse quickened, heat rising to her cheeks. She knew exactly what he was referring to. The rumors. The whispers about her and another footballer of the Premier League. She hadn´t confirmed any of those rumors—not because they were true, which weren´t, but because she didn´t owe anyone an explanation. Least of all him.

She changed her posture slowly, and finally met his eyes. "You´re one to talk about moving on, Jude," she said, her voice icy as she could manage. "How many instagram models have you cycled through in the last six months?"

A flicker of something dark passed through Jude´s eyes, but it was gone just as quickly, replaced by that infuriating smirk. "Oh, we´re going there?."

"You started it," she said calmly, barely maintaining her pose as the photographer circled them, blissfully unaware of their venomous exchange. "You just can´t stand the thought of me moving on, can you? But the again, you never could handle competition."

He chuckled, a laugh that felt forced but also genuine. "It´s not competition if the guy is not even good enough to get on the pitch, love." The nickname sent shivers down both of them, and Jude felt his heart pounding. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "But honestly? It’s just sad to watch you settle for less."

Her eyes flashed dangerously, and for a moment, Jude thought she might slap him. But instead, she took a slow, deliberate breath and stepped back, breaking the proximity between them.

“Screw you,” she snapped, her voice laced with frustration. “You´ve spent the last months parading around every influencer who bats her eyelashes at you. Don´t talk about my personal life," she let slip, even though her initial intention was to shut her mouth.

His jaw tightened, while his grip on her waist firmed. It wasn’t painful, but his hands made their presence known. She saw the flash of anger in his eyes. Good. Let him feel it.

The camera clicked again, capturing the tension that was almost palpable between them. The photographer murmured something about "great intensity" in their poses, but they barely heard him. He went to clean the lenses or something like that, again, they didn´t care.

The moment he left, they remained frozen in their poses, face to face, almost touching. The height difference between them became increasingly evident, adding a subtle weight to the tension in the air. He could almost smell the fresh mint on her breath, a crisp, invigorating scent that awakened his senses and made him acutely aware of their closeness.

"You think I moved on just to spite you? Grow up, Jude."

Their faces were inches apart, the fire in her eyes reflecting his own. "Then why him?" He didn’t even care who the guy was; he would have felt the same way whether it was some athlete or just a random man.

She didn´t flinch, her gaze holding his with a steely resolve. "Because he is not you."

The word hung in the air between them, heavy and loaded. Jude´s heart pounded in his chest, and for a split second, all the anger, all the bitterness, melted away, leaving only the raw, painful truth of it all.

He still wanted her. He still missed her. And he hated himself for it.

"Alright, everyone, sorry for the interruption—looks like the lens was a bit dirty! Let’s get back to it and capture some more friendly shots. Jude, why don’t you hug her from behind like you’re playing?"

They both appreciated the photographer's interruption and took a moment to reposition themselves with a bit of caution. As she closed her eyes, she felt the warmth of his arms resting on her shoulders and the closeness of their waists. Holy mother of God.

Jude´s breath was hot against her skin, and it took everything in her not to react, not to crumble under the weight of it. Because as much as she hated to admit it, he wasn´t wrong. She did miss him. The way he made her feel alive and on fire, even if it was chaotic and messy and sometimes unberable. She hadn´t felt anything close to that since him. And it scared her.

"You still flinch when I touch you," he smirked, now his thumb brushing over her hip just slightly. “And you miss me…”

"I don´t flinch, Jude. I recoil," she lied, smiling a little bit genuine. “And you wish.”

Jude leaned in, his perfect grin prepared for the camera but meant only for her eyes. With a playful glint, he whispered, "Liar." The word hung between them, teasing and electric, making her heart race.

She bit her lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. But the way her heart pounded, the way her body still reacted to his touch—she hated it.

The final shots were even more intimate—his arm around her waist, her hand on his chest, their faces inches apart. Every touch felt like it was setting her on fire, but she wouldn’t let him win. She wouldn’t let him see how much he still affected her.

As they wrapped up, the photographer thanked them both, oblivious to the war that had been raging between them. The moment the cameras stopped, she stepped away from him, desperate for space, for air.

But Jude wasn’t done.

“Guess I’ll be seeing you around then,” he said, his voice casual, but there was an undercurrent of something more—something unresolved.

She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hold herself together and half-joked. “God I hope not.”

Jude hesitated, his usual cocky demeanor slipping for just a moment. “For what it’s worth… I didn’t mean for things to end like they did.”

She glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. But before she could respond, the mask was back—the teasing smirk, the cocky swagger.

“And for the record,” he added, his voice low as he passed by her, “you do miss me.”

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t deny the truth that lingered between them. Despite everything—the anger, the bitterness, the pain—she did miss him.

He did too.

As she watched him walk away, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, despite herself. They might have been a mess, but somewhere beneath all the fire and fury, there was still something there.

Something neither of them could quite let go.

[quinnred]

Shrileket: God of the Beautiful Wrath, God of the Spear, Sun-Dropper Shrileket is the embodiment of focus, gust, conspiracy, spears, venom, meteors, and just punishment. He is represented by the Cone-Shell in the South, and by the Heron and Fisher in the North. Warriors may wear an eye-marked sea shell upon their head or as necklace to evoke Shrileket’s accuracy and deliverance and be blessed with a just rage.

The Shell Gods were gods of strength, endurance, and handiwork, and so the birth of the armless and scrawny Shrileket to a consort of Zridtara was not revered. The wobbly weakling only had a shell upon his small head and had no feet but pin points that left it oddly balanced. Afraid to inform their chief, the consort left the newborn to be raised by the Servikah giants within the lower chambers of the Mesa. Despite his seeming lameness, Shrileket was already quite clever and remembered each wrong done to him as he grew in the shadows of his Shell kin, from the neglect of his mother to the bullying of his siblings. From hidden corners of the Mesa, he payed great attention to the habits of each brother and planned every detail of their shaming. He perfected his movements under the guise of dancing with his Servikah and sharpened his shell head with his feet. He would challenge his proudest and tallest brother, Thulla the god of Towers, to a duel. Red with laughter, Thulla agreed to the contest with this comical upstart and met him at the ground of his choosing. The brothers would fight upon the morning ground of Glarelund, carved into an arena so Thulla and Shrileket’s siblings could be audience. After a boast of mockery, Thulla’s first step into the ring followed with immediate foolery as the tall god teetered and tottered upon the shiny ground. Shrileket, however, slid with grace and elegance, dancing around the oaf with pecks and kicks to trip him further. In but a few moments Thulla had fallen, intensely embarrassed by Shrileket who had known that ice grew thin and smooth in the mornings of this region due to his Servikah guardians. Shrileket’s glee was the brightest he felt in a long time, but would sour as Thulla spit cruelties at the victor. Too indignant to let his win soothe him, Shrileket pounced on his brother and castrated him with his sharpened head to the horror of his fellows. The victory of the honourable duel had been ignored by the Shell Gods, instead enraged by the maiming of their proudest son and had banished Shrileket. Painting himself eyes from the gore of Thulla, Shrileket remembered the face of each and every one who cursed him and set off into the world. From there he would receive an invitation from the Feather Gods who admired Shrileket’s strategy and wrath, and especially his shaming of Thulla and gifted him with cloth weaved from god feather so he may join them in The Sun. Shrileket accepted and would earn further gifts, such as Godler servants sculpted into arms for his use and a consort for whom weaved him his cloth. From there he would take his seat at the bottom of The Sun, enthroned upside down at it’s tear ducts were he harvest his sunlight spears to damn those he chooses. Though his cool rage made him a fine arbitrator, his arm servants despised their role and their master and ever whispered bad advice and annoyances into his ears. Their hope was to be destroyed by their owner and freed of their obligations, released into the next life. Unfortunately for them Shrileket found it better to punish their betrayal with further eternal service. His many years of dedication as a divine punisher would end upon the beginning of the Deiomachy, as he would be sent to stop his brother-by-fate god of rage, Tilshek, from entering The Sun. Disgusted by how much Tilshek reminded him of an unrefined self, Shrileket would stop at nothing to kill the half-Jak, dropping from The Sun like tear drop lighting. Their clash would announce war between the Feather and Shell, booming as only gods could for days until they fell upon each other’s impalements.

[jstor]

As we observe Banned Books Week, we are reminded that literature has always been more than just words on a page—it’s a battleground for ideas, identity, and the stories we tell about who we are. In 1974, Kanawha County, West Virginia, became the stage for one of the most violent textbook protests in American history. What began as a debate over school curriculum turned into a larger conflict over whose voices should be heard and whose stories should be silenced.

The power of the humanities lies in their ability to expose us to a multitude of perspectives, to challenge us, and to broaden our understanding of the human experience. But that power is also why literature and education have often become sites of controversy. The humanities ask us to grapple with life as it is—not life as we wish it to be. In the face of efforts to ban books or limit access to certain narratives, it’s essential to remember that the stories we read, discuss, and even disagree with are the foundation of critical thought.

JSTOR Daily explores the 1974 textbook battle, highlighting how this clash over curriculum foreshadowed many of the cultural debates we continue to face today. The article underscores the enduring importance of intellectual freedom and the need to safeguard the humanities against efforts to restrict access to diverse voices.

Read the full story on JSTOR Daily.

Image: Women from Boston and Charleston, West Virginia, holding signs, demonstrating against textbooks, Washington, D.C., 1975, via LOC.

[ginnsbaker]

mastermind

Summary: As your sticks fly across the drums, your eyes momentarily scan the crowd, taking in the faces, the movements, the ecstatic energy. And then, in the flickering club lights, you spot her // …or the one where you find Wanda in the crowd during your band's gig, only to discover there's much more to her than you initially thought.

Word count: 5.2K+ | Tags: Smut (18+), Fluff, Oral and fingering (W receiving), Squirting, Overstimulation, Meet-cute, Drummer!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Requested by anon. I got carried a way for a bit and took a few liberties. Hope you like it!

-

You almost didn’t make it for tonight’s gig. 

Still recovering from the flu you caught last week, you were close to letting Kate fill in on the drums. That is, until Yelena begged you not to let her girlfriend botch a sold-out evening.

The tension backstage is thicker than Bucky’s pre-show smoothie, and, given the mishmash of green ingredients, that's saying something.

“I'm just saying, letting Kate drum tonight is like giving a cat a keyboard and expecting Bonham,” Yelena says, gesturing wildly with her hands.

“Continue talking and you might not have a girlfriend by the end of your next sentence!” Kate huffs, spinning on her heel to stomp out of the area. 

You sip on your water, trying to keep your hydration levels up but also stifle a chuckle. This isn’t the first time Yelena’s protective streak has clashed with Kate's overenthusiastic approach to... well, everything. Natasha is trying, and failing, to keep a straight face, while Bucky seems to have found sudden interest in the intricate patterns on his boots. 

Your head is throbbing, the remnants of the flu still gnawing at your energy, but you've mustered up just enough strength to make it through tonight's set. Before Yelena or any other band member can comment further, the organizer gestures for your band to take the stage.

You take a deep breath, followed by another swig of water. It's almost showtime, and the excitement is seeping through the nerves, reminding you why you endure the endless rehearsals, sleepless nights, and yes, even the pre-show squabbles.

As you step onto the stage, the applause is deafening. The lights illuminate the sea of faces before you, and you can see the familiar glint of excitement in the eyes of returning fans mixed with the curious expressions of first-timers.

Bucky approaches the mic, flashing his signature charming smile at the crowd. “Good evening, everyone! We’re ecstatic to see so many familiar faces and new ones too! We've got a great set for you tonight, but before we start, let's give a big shoutout to Y/N here, who's powering through the flu to be with us tonight!” The crowd roars in appreciation, and you can't help but wave sheepishly, a tentative smile stretching across your face.

Natasha strums the opening chords of the first song, her fingers dancing effortlessly over the strings. Yelena, momentarily forgetting her earlier spat with Kate, loses herself in the rhythm, the bassline syncing perfectly with your drumbeat. The music flows, each note hitting the right spots, the synergy between band members mesmerizing the audience.

As your sticks fly across the drums, your eyes momentarily scan the crowd, taking in the faces, the movements, the ecstatic energy.

And then, in the flickering club lights, you spot her.

There's a brunette, her hair cascading down, dancing like she was born for this exact moment. The way she sways and lets loose to the rhythm—it's captivating.

But it's when she turns around that your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. Her eyes meet yours, and the world seems to slow down for a moment. Those intense, deep-set eyes pull you in, making it impossible to look away. They're filled with an emotion that's hard to pinpoint: intrigue, curiosity, maybe even a hint of challenge. The message is clear—she's noticed you, just as much as you've noticed her. 

She doesn't break the gaze, and as her hips move in tune with your beats, there's a silent communication happening. Your hands, despite the rising temperature of the room, feel cold against the drumsticks. It's a battle to maintain your rhythm and not lose yourself under her spell.

Natasha, catching the look on your face, leans in during a brief instrumental break. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you reply, attempting to refocus. Your distraction had almost caused you to miss a beat or two. 

Your eyes are locked onto the brunette once more as she starts grinding against her friend, her movements confident, sultry, and unapologetically magnetic. It's the sort of dancing that would have any person within the perimeter drooling on the spot. Usually, you'd shy away from openly watching someone move so suggestively, but you find yourself completely mesmerized.

As the next song kicks off, you throw in some extra flash on the drums, just to see if she'll play along. And sure enough, with every fancy beat you drop, she dances right to it. It's like you're both in this unspoken challenge, seeing who can outdo the other. Your fingers grip the drumsticks tighter, and you can feel the heat rising on your face.

That's when Natasha glances in the same direction and catches on. “Well, well, looks like someone's got a fan,” she murmurs with a wink, her voice barely audible over the booming speakers.

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool, but the dryness in your mouth betrays your nonchalance. “Just playing my part,” you quip, though you're keenly aware that your concentration tonight is split between the drums and the mesmerizing dancer.

Yelena, following the exchange between you and Natasha, leans in from the bass guitar, raising an eyebrow. “Who's got you all hot and bothered?”

“Shut up, Yel,” you retort. With cheeks aflame, you try to shove Yelena’s teasing aside, to focus solely on the music coursing through your veins. However, the allure of the brunette is a magnet you can’t seem to resist.

As the beat picks up, so does the pace of your heart, hammering against your chest with every enthralling movement she makes. She is intoxicating, and you’re utterly spellbound.

During the bridge, you hit a sour note—a misstep that rarely happens—and Bucky gives you a dirty look from across the stage. He’s a perfectionist when it comes to the music, and you mouth a silent “sorry” before forcing your eyes away from the captivating sight in the crowd.

But not before catching her reaction.

She's laughing, her eyes alight with impishness, and you'd swear she's looking right at you. There's a knowing smile on her lips that suggests she knows exactly the effect she’s had on you. It’s both mortifying and exhilarating.

You try to keep to the side, hiding behind cymbals and drums, but it's impossible to shake the sensation of being observed. It's like she's got a spotlight aimed right at you, and you're center stage. Every moment you resist looking her way feels like an eternity, but every time you feel the pull to glance in her direction, Yelena’s earlier tease flares in your mind, keeping your eyes stubbornly on Bucky’s flashy shoes.

As the last song fades and the applause rolls in, you set down your drumsticks, nerves and excitement warring within you. You don't hang around for Bucky's wrap-up speech. Instead, you hustle to get backstage.

-

To everyone's shock, you decide to stick around after the gig. You're usually the most introverted one in the group and never do this.

Natasha sidles up to you, a teasing smirk on her lips. “So, about that girl you couldn't take your eyes off of...?”

You attempt to play it cool, but your nervous fidgeting with your drumsticks gives you away. “What girl?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

Bucky snorts in amusement, a wicked grin stretching across his face. “The one you were practically eye-fucking the entire set? Thought you were gonna jump off stage and grab her right there.”

You're now the shade of a ripe tomato, desperately searching for a diversion. “You guys are seeing things,” you mumble, avoiding their amused gazes.

“Honestly, I was half-expecting her to throw a bra onstage or something, the way you were gawking,” Yelena chirps in.

“Enough,” you protest weakly, your voice drowned out by the laughter of your bandmates.

Just as you're about to slip away to the bar for a breather, a waiter approaches you with a drink in hand. “Compliments of the lady over there,” he says, nodding towards a dim corner of the club.

You peer in the direction he's indicating but can't make out who it's from. The drink looks fancy, possibly alcoholic. Glancing at the waiter, you inform him, “I can't drink alcohol right now, but thank you.”

Natasha snatches it from the tray. “Well, if you're not taking it, it's mine.”

Bucky laughs. “Is everyone in this club trying to woo our drummer tonight?”

You roll your eyes at them, trying not to dwell on the mystery woman. However, it's not long before the same waiter returns, this time holding a simple glass of lemonade. “The lady noticed you weren’t drinking the cocktails and thought you might prefer this.”

Your curiosity almost gets the better of you, but the memories of the striking brunette dancing to your beats earlier still linger fresh in your mind. You opt not to scour the club's corners to spot who's sending the drinks. Instead, you lift the lemonade in a thankful gesture, aiming it in the general direction of where the waiter had pointed, and offer a polite, appreciative smile into the dim.

Natasha teases, “Playing hard to get, huh?”

You shrug and take a sip from your drink. “Just soaking in the night and the rewards of our hard work,” you remark, patting the pocket where you tucked away the cash from tonight's gig. “Isn't that what we're here for?”

-

An hour later, the club's neon and strobe lights continue to play tricks on your eyes, turning every brunette head you spot into a potential sighting. Each time, however, it’s not her.

Bucky's animated conversation about a new track he's been working on fades into the background. Natasha keeps throwing you knowing glances, but doesn't press. It's Yelena who finally comments, probably having had enough of your desolate puppy-dog look. She nudges you with her elbow, Kate giggling drunkenly by her side. Yelena's arm is protectively around Kate, but her sharp gaze is all on you.

“You know, you won't find her by just sulking here and gazing at every brunette that walks past. You gotta move,” she challenges, her tone equal parts bored and encouraging.

Kate, in her slightly inebriated state, adds with a giggle, “Yeah, go get her, tiger!”

“It's not that easy, you know,” you sigh, brooding over your drink. “Plus, what if she's not even interested?”

Yelena's smirk is almost predatory. “From what I saw? Trust me, she's interested. Now go.”

With a resigned sigh, you push yourself up from the booth. Steeling yourself, you start weaving your way through the crowd, using your slightly sober advantage to maneuver past intoxicated dancers. You scan every corner and table as you walk past, even though there's a nagging feeling in your gut that she might have already left the club.

It’s after what feels like an eternity that you spot a familiar cascade of brunette locks by the bar. She’s engaged in what appears to be an animated conversation with a tall, equally striking man. However, her posture—shoulders slightly hunched, eyes darting around—suggests that she’s far from comfortable.

The protective instinct kicks in before you can talk yourself out of it. Closing the distance, you position yourself between her and the persistent guy, offering her a way out. “Hey there,” you say, smoothly, your voice loud enough to be heard over the clamor. “I've been looking for you. Sorry I'm late.”

She catches on immediately, her relief evident as she steps closer to you, away from the guy. “There you are! I was starting to worry,” she plays along, giving you a swift kiss on the cheeks that has your eyes widening for a second and breaking character. Thankfully, the guy doesn’t notice your blunder, and sensing he's lost this battle, scowls and retreats into the crowd.

Turning to her, you can't help the grin that finds its way to your face. “Sorry for that, I wanted to help, but I didn’t also want to cause any trouble.”

She smiles back, her eyes gleaming in the club lights. “Thank you for the save. I was about to resort to more drastic measures.”

The banter between you flows naturally, the awkward ice broken by the unusual circumstance of your first interaction. “I'm Y/N,” you offer, extending a hand.

“Wanda,” she says, taking your hand. Her grip is firm and her hand warm against yours. It sends a jolt of electricity up your arm. Only now do you notice her eyes, the shade of green in them, and the way they reveal so much yet nothing at all. Just like that, you fall a little deeper into her trap.

“Wanda,” you repeat, tasting the name on your tongue as if trying it out. Your smile broadens instinctively, and she catches it, her nose scrunching up bashfully.

“What?” she asks.

“Oh, nothing,” you chuckle nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. “I just think it's a beautiful name. Fits someone as beautiful as you.”

She blushes, and you can't help but inwardly high five yourself for making her smile like that. She looks away for a moment, trying to hide her smile but fails miserably, and you find it endearing.

“Thank you, Y/N,” she says, her eyes meeting yours once more, a shy smile on her lips.

The night unfolds seamlessly from there. You find a quiet corner away from the crowd, where the music is a distant thump, allowing conversation to flow freely.

“So, when did you start drumming?” Wanda asks, leaning in a bit, genuinely seeming interested in your answer. You try your best to stay calm as you feel the heat radiate from her body.

“Believe it or not, I started a bit late, around twelve,” you reply, smiling at the memory of your younger self, awkwardly trying to grasp the drumsticks. “But I played the guitar first, picked it up when I was just five.”

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Wow, so you're a multi-instrumentalist?”

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, but can't help the proud grin that creeps onto your face. “Something like that. But I mainly stick to drums in the band.”

She tilts her head, her eyes shining with interest. “Why don't you play the guitar for the band then?”

“Natasha's better than me on the guitar. She's got this incredible flair and finesse. I mean, I'm good, but she's... amazing.”

Wanda nods, absorbing the information, “I've heard her play, she really is. But I'm sure you're just as great.”

You laugh, “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Then, taking a sip of your drink, you add, “Playing the guitar actually helps a lot when I'm writing our songs.”

“Wait, you write the songs?”

“Most of them,” you confirm, trying to sound as modest as you can be. “It's a collaborative effort, of course. But yeah, having a knowledge of multiple instruments, especially the guitar, helps lay the foundation for many of our tracks.”

Wanda looks at you, clearly impressed. “That's incredible, Y/N. No wonder your music feels so... personal. It's like you're telling a story with every song.”

“You’ve listened to our songs before?” you ask, mildly surprised.

Wanda nods sheepishly, as if caught harboring a guilty secret. “I might have, a few times... I definitely came here tonight to see you guys perform.” 

She then places a hand on your knee, and all at once, your throat feels parched. She scoots closer to you, to speak directly into your ear. “I wish I could see you play the guitar for me.”

You swallow hard. Her suggestion has certainly crossed your mind several times throughout the conversation. “Actually,” you begin, trying to steady your voice, “we keep our instruments in the back of the van. If you're interested, I could... play something for you?”

Wanda pulls back slightly to meet your eyes, looking like she wasn’t expecting you to actually agree to give her a private performance. “Really? Now?”

You nod, then stand and extend your hand to her, grinning. “Ready for a show?”

-

This isn’t exactly the kind of show you had in mind when you led Wanda to the back of the van. But you’re just twenty seconds into the new song you’ve been working on when she grabs your face with both hands and draws you in for a ferocious kiss. It’s a kiss that you haven’t tasted in a while—completely unrestrained.

You're lucky the drum set hasn't been loaded up yet, and with Bucky's keyboard being used by the current band onstage, there's just the right amount of space. Taking advantage, you push Wanda onto her back without breaking away from the kiss.

You pull away just enough to ask, “Are you sure?” while Wanda starts to slide your jacket down your arms.

Wanda nods impatiently, tracing her tongue along the underside of your chin, clearly enjoying the reaction she provokes.

“Was that a yes?” you prod, sitting up. Wanda sighs, albeit a bit irritably, only because you're suddenly out of her reach, before she collects herself enough to answer, “Yes, Y/N, I'm sure.”

“It's just that... I usually don’t do this,” you confess, looking down in embarrassment.

Your heart is pounding so loudly you're sure Wanda can hear it, especially with the way she's studying you intently. You can feel the heat creep up your neck, coloring your cheeks a deep shade of pink. This isn't typically your scene, and you wonder if she's regretting her decision.

But then, with a move that’s smooth and tender, Wanda slides her fingers under your chin, lifting your head to meet her gaze. Her eyes aren't filled with judgment or mockery, but with genuine understanding and something else you can't quite place.

“I find it... sexy,” she murmurs. “It’s refreshing, actually. Everything about you feels genuine. It's rare to find someone not playing games.”

Your eyes widen a fraction. That wasn't the reaction you'd been expecting.

She smirks a little at your expression, that hint of mischief returning. “Did you think admitting you're a little inexperienced would scare me off? If anything, it makes this even more exciting.”

“I'm not exactly 'inexperienced',” you argue with a bashful smile.

Her voice drops to a whisper, making your breath catch, and she inches just a bit closer. “I'm sure about this, Y/N. The back of a van might not be a romantic scene from a movie, but…” she breathes, and then she makes sure you feel every word she’s going to say next being spoken in your ear. “But right now? I swear, I might just go crazy if you don't touch me.”

Her statement stokes the fire between your legs and acting on the pull you feel, you lean in, hesitating just for a fraction of a second before capturing her lips with yours. Wanda lets out a soft, sultry moan as you deepen the kiss, your tongue boldly seeking entrance. She grants it, and you're immediately intoxicated, not just by the taste of the vodka she's been sipping on, but by Wanda herself. The way she feels, the way she responds—it's all consuming.

She tilts her head, granting you better access, and you take the opportunity to explore every inch of her mouth. The gentle tang of the alcohol is present but overshadowed by her own unique flavor, which is even more intoxicating. You can feel her hands resting on your shoulders, fingers gripping you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

Wanda's breath hitches sharply as you confidently take charge. You yank her shirt off in one quick move, and she's laid bare under the soft street lights. Outside, some party is still in full swing, but in here, it's all about the uninhibited hunger between the two of you.

You slip your fingers to the back of her bra, fumbling just a moment before unhooking it, revealing her. Not wasting any time, you dive in, taking her nipple in your mouth, savoring it. The sensation drives her wild, and she arches her back, pushing herself deeper against you with a throaty moan.

Her fingers grip your hair, guiding and sometimes just pulling when she needs more. Every sound she makes, every pull of her fingers, gets you more revved up. It's intense, it's messy, but it's all too real.

As your hands venture lower, you notice her pupils dilate and her breathing grow uneven.

“You still sure?” you whisper, releasing her nipple with a wet pop. She responds with a desperate whine, pressing her hips closer to yours.

“Use your words, baby girl,” you murmur, nipping at her pulse point.

“Yes, yes, yes…” she answers breathlessly. “Please, Y/N.”

Your fingers playfully glide over her entrance, teasing her, “So wet for me,” you marvel, pressing a firm kiss to her neck. Your fingers dip inside her just slightly, pulling back out to further tease her.

“It's too bad I don't have my strap with me,” you groan, grinding against her thigh, letting her feel how turned on you are. “You'd look so pretty, taking it all.”

Her breathing hitches, “God, I wish you had it too.”

Wanda’s whines intensify, a sweet sound of pure desperation, as you suddenly remove your fingers from her. “Why did you—” she starts to complain, but you silence her with a searing kiss.

“I want to see all of you,” you murmur against her lips. Her skirt is the next target, and you fumble with the zipper, eager to remove the barrier between your hands and her skin. However, as you're about to pull down her underwear, a thought strikes you. Looking around the back of the van, you remember how it's been used for hauling equipment, and the floor isn't exactly pristine.

Thinking quickly, you grab your jacket and lay it out beneath her, ensuring she's on a cleaner surface. “Always got to take care of my girl,” you wink at her, trying to lighten the moment.

“Your girl?” Wanda echoes, her eyes half-lidded, a playful smile curling on her lips.

You realize your slip-up a beat too late, but then, her underwear and skirt are swiftly discarded, and she lies there, beautifully exposed to your hungry gaze.

“You're breathtaking,” you whisper in awe.

She flushes under your gaze. “I could say the same for you,” she murmurs, pulling you closer.

Your eyes roam her body, the soft curves and inviting skin, particularly where she's most sensitive. But you've always been one for asking. 

“Can I taste you?” The question leaves your lips, whispered against the skin of her inner thigh, making her shiver.

She responds with a needy, “Yes, please,” and bites her bottom lip, arching her hips slightly, as if laying herself bare for your indulgence.

You don't waste any more time. Shuffling down, you position yourself between her legs, the aromatic scent of her arousal filling your senses. Carefully, you part her folds with your fingers, your tongue darting out to collect the first taste. The first touch of your tongue against her wetness draws a sharp inhale from her, followed by a moan that has your ears burning from how shameless it sounds.

Your tongue swirls around her swollen nub, establishing a pattern that has her thighs clenching around your head. “Fucky, right there,” she groans, her hips thrusting up, eager to meet each glide and flick of your tongue. The wet sounds of your mouth paired with her whimpers urge you to sneak a hand beneath your jeans, seeking relief for your own building tension.

Her hands tighten in your hair, pulling you closer, almost as if she's trying to mold you to her. “More, right there... Oh, god!” she cries out, providing the exact guidance you need.

Amused by her reactions, you intentionally draw out a slurping sound as your tongue dives deeper, making Wanda retreat, but you abandon your own need for release to grab her ass and pull her back to your mouth. 

“Y/N, please, please, I’m—”

“You like that, don't you?” you tease, voice husky with lust. “You sound so pretty when you beg.”

She keens, a desperate sound, her fingers tightening their grip on your hair. You're relentless, enjoying every second of her unraveling, and she's close—so close.

“Are you going to come for me, Wanda?” you growl, lost in the intoxicating taste of her, pressing your tongue deeper, seeking out every intimate spot that makes her body jolt and writhe above you. Her voice breaks into a high-pitched cry, “Y/N! I'm—I'm—” and you feel her climax, her entire body shaking with the force of it, her wetness dripping from your chin down to your throat, drenching you in the process. 

Wanda's gasps fill the space as she shudders, the aftershocks of her orgasm leaving her body trembling. A wicked grin spreads across your face as you take in the sight of her, completely spent and vulnerable. She squirms beneath your mouth, trying to escape the onslaught of sensations. “Too much,” she pants, her voice hoarse.

Ignoring her plea, you continue your ministrations, lips and tongue working in tandem, driving her to the brink once more. As you feel her tensing up, preparing to escape your relentless assault, you slip two fingers inside her, feeling the tight clench of her around you. The unexpected intrusion steals her breath and the fight from her limbs, her resistance melting under your touch.

“You want more, don't you?” you murmur before your lips find her clit again. 

The van is starting to smell like sex. You know you'll have to do something about this later, but for now, you can't bring yourself to care as you take in every detail of the naked girl before you. The pleasure is almost overwhelming for Wanda, teetering on the edge of pain, but she feels another climax building deep inside her.

“Y/N!” she cries, her grip on your hair tightening, her back arching. “I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum!”

You don't stop, doubling your efforts, fingers and tongue working in sync, driving her up and beyond any point she's ever known. Suddenly, there's a gush, wetter and warmer than before, surprising you both. You pull back slightly, and she looks down, mortified. Her face turns a deep shade of red, and she tries to squirm out from beneath you.

“I'm so sorry... I—” Wanda stammers, scrambling to hide her face in her hands.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, a smirk forming on your lips. “Wanda, that was... incredibly hot.”

She looks away, still trying to process what just happened. “I didn’t... I've never...”

Sitting up, you gently cup her face, making her look at you. “Hey, it’s alright,” you say softly, trying to reassure her. “Don't be embarrassed. I'm honored that you felt comfortable enough with me to let go completely.”

She gives a shaky laugh, her fingers lightly tracing circles on your chest. “I can't believe you made me do that on the first try.”

“And I’m extremely lucky to be able to,” you say with a chuckle, gently brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face.

She blushes for a moment, then says, “I noticed you didn’t... you know. Do you want me to...?”

“Next time,” you promise, pressing a tender kiss on her forehead. “Right now, I need to make sure this van doesn’t end up as evidence of our... activities.” You wink, earning a soft giggle from her.

“Besides, I have to admit, I thoroughly enjoyed watching you fall apart because of me,” you add, mischievously wetting your lips.

She blushes, playfully swatting at your arm. “You're impossible.”

-

You were the first to step out of the van, offering Wanda a moment of privacy to get dressed. When she finally emerges, she leans on you for support. “I can't feel my legs,” she jokes, struggling a bit. She hands you your jacket which you'd forgotten, helping you slip it on. Immediately, the scent of her hits you, reminding you that she had climaxed twice on that very fabric.

Before you can dwell on the thought, a man approaches Wanda. It’s the same guy from earlier, the one she was arguing with at the bar. You instinctively square your shoulders, ready to step in between them, protectively, but Wanda halts you with a hand on your chest.

“Pietro!” Wanda exclaims, letting out an exasperated sigh as she utters her brother's name. You halt, puzzled.

She knows this guy?

Pietro looks at Wanda, then at you, his eyes narrowing for a moment. “You ready to go, Wanda?” he asks, clearly impatient.

She turns to you, giving you a soft, apologetic smile. “Y/N, this is my brother, Pietro.”

You swallow dryly, offering a somewhat clammy hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Pietro just eyes your hand, perhaps connecting the dots from earlier. Feeling like an idiot, you quickly pull your hand back, subtly rubbing it against your pants. He departs without another word, muttering to Wanda, “I'll be in the car. Don't keep me waiting too long.”

Wanda watches Pietro go, her smile fading a bit. Turning back to you, she takes a deep breath. “Okay, so, about earlier,” she starts, biting her lower lip nervously. “I might have, um... staged that whole fight thing to get your attention. He wasn’t too thrilled about the idea, but he played along.” Her eyes dart to the ground, avoiding your gaze.

You blink, processing her confession. Before you can come up with any coherent response, she giggles at the dumbfounded expression on your face. “I really have to go,” she says.

And then, before you can react, she plants a featherlight kiss on your cheek. The warmth of it lingers on your skin as she steps back, her eyes holding yours for a long, sweet moment.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her eyes glistening under the soft moonlight. “Tonight was... unexpected, but amazing.”

And with that, she turns and hurries off to where Pietro is waiting for her by a parked car. You stand there, feeling the spot on your cheek where her lips touched, watching her until she hops into the car and drives off into the night. It’s only after the car disappears around the bend that you mentally kick yourself for forgetting to ask for her number. With a sigh, you turn back to your van, resigned to cleaning up.

The chill of the night settles in, and when you slip your hands into your jacket pockets, your fingers catch a scrap of paper. It feels out of place, foreign to the usual belongings you stash in there. You pull it out, and to your surprise, it's a receipt. The drinks listed there jog a memory: an alcoholic cocktail offered to you earlier in the night which you politely declined, and the tangy lemonade that followed right after.

Realization dawns on you. Wanda had been orchestrating things all night. You flip the receipt over and your heart skips a beat. Scrawled at the back in a neat, cursive handwriting is her number, accompanied by a simple message: “Call me soon.”

Grinning like a fool, you grab a cloth and some disinfectant from the compartment. Cleaning the back of a van has never felt this satisfying.