#i am not asking for the principle to be explained to me

[claramelooo]

CRIMSON REVERIE

How about a little of fluffy, huh?

Enjoy it <3

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Summary: you find out about your version and Wanda in another universe.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist

SIGHTS

As you walked back to the camp, water droplets slid down your skin, the night breeze bringing a slight shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. Your mind was in turmoil, recalling Wanda's little show by the lake. The trees seemed quieter, as if even nature was trying to absorb what had just happened.

"Did you really have to do that in front of everyone?" you asked, breaking the silence, but your voice came out hesitant, almost shy.

Wanda glanced at you sideways, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "And what exactly did I do?"

"Oh, come on, Wanda," you said, exasperated. "Lifting that guy into the air, threatening to erase them all from the multiverse? That’s not exactly... educational."

Wanda raised an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised. “What are you talking about? I was perfectly reasonable, if you want to know,” she said, her tone bordering on cynical, as if her threat to erase people from existence was something ordinary and completely justifiable.

"Reasonable?!" you repeated, your voice a bit louder than you intended. "You almost gave the poor guy a heart attack! He’ll never look at a campfire again without remembering you."

Wanda stopped walking, turning to face you with an expression that was both amused and exasperated. "He should be grateful," she retorted, as if explaining something obvious. "If I wanted to, he wouldn’t even remember what a campfire is."

"Oh my god! You’re impossible!" You crossed your arms, trying to look firm, but the way she was looking at you— that mix of unwavering authority and irresistible charm—made your heart race. "You know that’s not the point, right?"

She took a step closer, tilting her head slightly. "And what’s the point, then, dorogaya? That I should have let that bunch of filthy teenagers disrespecting nature go unpunished? I have principles, sweetheart! And none of them can see you like this except for me."

"I’m not talking about me," you replied, but your tone lost strength at the end of the sentence, because deep down, you knew there was something comforting—and, in a way, exciting—about the fact that she had defended you so fiercely.

"Oh, but I am," Wanda murmured, the intensity in her eyes making you feel as though the ground had disappeared beneath your feet. "No one will desire you in my presence. No one will even dare to think about you, and read my lips when I say, darling: I will know what they’re thinking. I always do."

You exhaled heavily, but tried to hide your smile at your witch’s over-the-top monologue. "Wanda… please."

Wanda turned to you, crossing her arms as she tilted her head. "Are you... worried about them?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but she just made a hand gesture.

"Happy?" she asked casually, beginning to walk again as if nothing had happened.

You furrowed your brow, quickening your pace to catch up with her. "What do you mean? What did you do?"

Without even looking at you, Wanda gave a small, satisfied smile. "They’ve forgotten everything, dorogaya."

Your eyes widened. "What do you mean 'forgotten everything'? Did you mess with their minds?"

She shrugged, fingers playing with a strand of her own hair. "Just enough to make sure no one will remember my ‘little show,’ as you call it."

You stared at her, a mixture of fascination and unease growing inside you. "You can do that? Alter memories?"

"I can do many things," Wanda replied, finally stopping and turning to face you. She seemed slightly amused, as if relishing your curiosity.

"Like what?" you asked, unable to contain the question.

Wanda leaned slightly toward you, her eyes shining with that characteristic mix of mystery and power. "Ah, milaya moya," she murmured, her voice low and enticing. "If I told you everything I can do, you wouldn’t sleep for weeks."

A shiver ran down your spine, but you couldn’t help but smile. "Is that a promise or a warning?"

"Both," she replied, laughing softly before continuing to walk.

Unable to resist, you hurried to walk beside her. "You really are something, Miss Maximoff."

Wanda stopped abruptly, making you almost stumble in your hurry to keep up with her. She turned to face you, an expression that wavered between surprise and amusement. "Something?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow as a smile danced on her lips.

"Yes, something," you reaffirmed, crossing your arms with an unexpected touch of boldness. "A force of nature, maybe. Or maybe a goddess with a heroine complex. But definitely something."

Wanda’s eyes sparkled, and you realized there was something more there. It wasn’t just amusement. It was admiration. Fascination. As if she was seeing something in you that intrigued her as much as you were intrigued by her.

"You’re bold," Wanda said, her voice soft but tinged with provocation. "Do you know what happens to people who challenge a goddess?"

"I have no idea," you replied, shrugging. "Maybe you should show me."

Wanda tilted her head, a dangerous yet charming smile forming. "You really want to know what I’m capable of, don’t you?"

"I do," you replied, firm, though your heart was pounding like a drum. "I want to know what makes you the woman you are. I want to see everything you can do. Because, if I’m going to be by your side, I need to understand... you."

For a moment, Wanda was silent, just watching you. Then, she stepped forward, closing the gap between you. Her fingers lifted to trace a slow path along your face, as if deciding how far she would take you on this journey.

"You have no idea what you’re asking for, dorogaya," she murmured, her voice like honey dripping. "My power isn’t just strength or control. It’s chaos. It’s destruction. It’s everything you fear and desire at the same time."

"Then show me," you insisted, your voice almost inaudible, but filled with determination. "If that’s what you are, I want to see it. All of it."

Wanda smiled, but this time, there was something deeper there—maybe a touch of respect. "You’re brave. So brave, lyubimaya. But be careful what you wish for."

She extended her hand to you, her eyes glowing with a deep red intensity. "Come with me. And I’ll show you what I’m made of."

You hesitated for a second, but just enough for Wanda to intertwine her fingers with yours, pulling you with her. "Hold on," she said, her lips curling into a smile that was as terrifying as it was beautiful. "You asked for this."

And then, with an almost imperceptible snap, the world around you began to change.

Wanda guided you with a firm yet strange touch through the veil between worlds. Reality around you unraveled in a tangle of colors and shapes, as if every line that composed the fabric of the universe was being unfolded before you. The air seemed to vibrate, charged with something incomprehensible—a raw, terrifying power.

"Welcome to the Multiverse, dorogaya," Wanda said, her voice soft as a whisper, but filled with an authority that made you shiver. "Get ready, because there’s no turning back."

Before you could respond, the first vision took shape.

The room seemed like it was from a dream. White, smooth, and flawless walls reflected the soft light streaming through large windows. Outside, there was a perfect garden, with well-manicured lawns and flowers of all colors. The house was a reflection of what Wanda seemed to believe was an ideal life: simple, cozy, and full of love.

Wanda was barefoot, wearing a light red dress that swayed with her movement. Her hair was loose, and she appeared... ordinary, but in an almost supernatural way. In her arms, a chubby, smiling baby played with strands of her hair as she looked at him with a tenderness so intense it almost broke your heart.

Vision stood beside her, smiling in a way you didn’t think possible for someone made of vibranium. He looked so human there, so... present. With one hand, he caressed Wanda’s face, and with the other, he held a small music box that played a soft melody in the background.

“This was my utopia,” Wanda began, without looking directly at you. Her eyes were fixed on the scene, as if she were immersed in the memory. “A perfect creation for a perfect life. A home where I could have everything the real world denied me.”

You realized the setting seemed like a reflection of an ideal from the 1950s or 60s — a perfect suburban life, almost like a magazine advertisement. Yet, the longer you looked, the more artificial everything seemed. The flowers in the garden had no scent. The sunlight didn’t warm. And suddenly, you realized there were no sounds from the outside.

“It was an illusion, of course,” Wanda continued, with a hint of melancholy. “But for a while... I wanted to believe it was real. I needed to believe. I did this for Vision. For myself. For my children.”

The scene abruptly changed. Now, the same room was dark, almost in ruins. The baby in Wanda’s arms had vanished. Vision was lying on the floor, lifeless, with a hole in his chest where the Mind Stone should have been. Wanda was kneeling, her hands stained with blood, her eyes fixed on the void.

“That’s when I realized,” she said, her voice faltering slightly. “None of this was mine. I was living a lie. And the truth... the truth was more cruel than any illusion I could create.”

You wanted to say something, but the words felt stuck in your throat. Everything around you screamed of pain, loss, and despair.

“I tried so hard,” Wanda whispered, more to herself than to you. “I tried to be good, I tried to be strong. But the more I lost, the more I became... this.”

You glanced at the woman, seeing tears held back in her large green eyes. Why doesn’t Wanda cry? Why does she keep everything to herself? These are questions you would like to understand and deconstruct with every reason she gives you.

This version of Wanda was a whirlwind of emotions, chaos personified. You saw her in different moments, different worlds, all versions converging on the same point: Vision. He was the center of her universe, and Wanda did the impossible to bring him back — to recreate the love she believed was her only anchor.

In the first scene, she was kneeling in a cold, metallic room, holding Vision’s lifeless body. It was a version of him without glow, without movement. The pale light reflected on her face, bathed in tears that flowed uncontrollably. Wanda murmured softly, almost inaudible, like a desperate prayer: "Please, come back to me. Please..."

You could feel the urgency in her voice, the kind of desperation that defies reason. She tried using her magic, her hands trembling as a scarlet glow surrounded Vision’s body. But it was futile. He wouldn’t return.

"I refused to accept death," Wanda explained, her voice low, as if confessing a terrible secret. "I thought I could deceive fate. That, if I wanted it enough, I could bring him back."

The scene abruptly shifted, and now you saw her in another world, facing a legion of colossal beings, each one more threatening than the last. They seemed to be guarding something — maybe an artifact or a secret she wanted. Wanda was at the center of the battle, her powers turning the ground into lava, the sky into darkness.

"I destroyed entire worlds," she continued, her eyes fixed on the scene. "I fought against those who tried to stop me, against those who said I was wrong. I didn’t care. I would do anything to bring him back."

You saw another Wanda, this time creating an entire world. She stood with her arms raised as houses rose from the ground, people took form out of nowhere, and a perfect blue sky stretched above everyone. At the center of this world was Vision, smiling, alive, as if nothing had happened.

"I created entire realities," Wanda said, a touch of bitterness in her voice. "But none of them were real. He... wasn’t real."

The last scene was the most devastating. Wanda was alone, watching a version of Vision disappear before her eyes. He touched her face one last time before fading into dust, and she remained motionless, as if there was no more strength left in her to react.

"For so long," Wanda said, her eyes filled with a pain that seemed endless, "I thought love was sacrifice. That everything worth having had to be earned with pain. But I was wrong."

She turned to you, the intensity in her eyes as crushing as everything you had just witnessed. "Love shouldn’t be this, right? It shouldn’t be pain, or loss, or despair. But it was all I knew."

You felt your heart tighten. You wanted to touch her, comfort her, but it seemed too small in comparison to everything she had faced.

"You showed me something different," she continued, her voice trembling slightly. "Something I never thought I deserved. You showed me that love can be... healing."

This time, the air was thick with tension as you entered that ruined house, used as a temporary refuge by Wanda Maximoff. The walls were cracked, and the smell of dust mixed with something else: magic, raw and pulsing, like a storm about to explode. The organization that had sent you knew she was dangerous, but you weren’t there as an agent or a heroine. You were there as a social worker, someone who had worked with people who had lost everything — and Wanda Maximoff was exactly that.

She was sitting in the darkest corner of the room, her eyes glowing with an unsettling scarlet hue. There was no apparent pain or mourning on her face; just a dangerous emptiness, the kind that swallows worlds.

"Leave," was the first thing she said, not even looking at you directly.

You didn’t leave.

"I just want to talk," you said, keeping your voice calm, even though your heart was pounding like a drum. "Nothing more."

Wanda laughed — a dry, bitter laugh, without joy. "Talk? Is that what they call interrogation now?" She finally raised her eyes to meet yours, and the weight of her gaze was almost physical. "I don’t need your pity."

"It’s not pity," you replied, not backing down. "It’s... concern."

Suddenly, the air around her shifted. It was as if an invisible hand was trying to grab you, crush you. Wanda raised her hand, and you saw the scarlet threads of her magic dance around her like serpents ready to strike.

"Do you think you can help me?" she whispered, her voice laced with sarcasm and something deeper: pain. "Do you think you can come in here and fix everything with your sweet words? I could end you before you even finish that sentence."

But she couldn’t.

The magic around her shattered like glass, vanishing into the air before it could touch you. Wanda’s expression transformed into something you would never forget: surprise. She tried again, raising both hands, muttering words in an ancient tongue, but nothing happened.

"Who are you?" she asked, standing slowly, her eyes fixed on you like a predator finding something unusual.

"My name is Y/n. I’m a social worker." You took a deep breath, trying to seem calmer than you felt. "And I think you need help."

"You idiot! Who sent you? Are you a witch? How do you know how to manipulate my magic?" she shot angrily.

Your hands were sweating, and you felt a strong urge to rush to the bathroom — but something completely insane inside you told you that you needed to stay.

You took a hesitant step forward, keeping your hands visible at your sides. It was like facing a wild animal, where every movement needed to be calculated.

"I’m not a witch, and no one sent me," you said, your voice calm but firm. "I’m just a social worker. And I’m here because you’re hurt."

Wanda laughed, but it was an empty, bitter sound. "Hurt?" she repeated, taking a step toward you. "You think you can help me? I’m the Scarlet Witch. I don’t need help from anyone, especially not from a... social worker."

"Maybe you don’t need it," you replied, trying to ignore the heat at the back of your neck and the trembling in your legs. "But maybe you want it."

Her face hardened, and for a moment, you thought you had made a fatal mistake. But then something changed. Her eyes lost some of their intensity, as if your words had touched a part of Wanda she was desperately trying to hide.

"Why aren’t you afraid of me?" she asked, tilting her head. "Everyone is. I can feel fear in people. But in you... there’s nothing."

You hesitated, searching for the right words. "Maybe it’s because I see beyond that," you said, taking another step. "I see someone who is hurt, who’s lost so much, but who is still here. Still fighting."

"You don’t know anything about me," she murmured, but her voice was quieter now, almost unsure.

"Then tell me," you responded softly. "Let me get to know you, Wanda."

There was a long silence. She watched you as if trying to decide whether you were real or just another broken piece in her world. Finally, Wanda sighed and turned her back, crossing her arms.

"You’re stubborn," she said, not looking at you.

"I hear that often," you replied, trying not to smile.

She chuckled softly, but it wasn’t a cruel sound this time. When she finally turned to you, there was something different in her eyes. Something more human, more vulnerable.

"If you’re going to stay, then stay. But don’t expect me to trust you anytime soon," she said, pointing to a worn-out sofa in the corner of the room.

"I don’t expect," you replied, carefully sitting down. "So, you can’t kill me with your red power balls, nor read my mind. What’s that supposed to mean?"

Wanda let out a disbelieving laugh, actually incredulous. Red power balls? She thought with a roll of her eyes.

"I don’t know." It was a low murmur.

"Maybe a sign that you should give me a chance…" You said with your shoulders shrugged and a sheepish smile on the corner of your lips.

Wanda could never have imagined that you would keep coming back, again, and again, and again — in fact, neither could you. A not-so-friendly conversation and death threats turned into a tea afternoon where Wanda told you about life in the Avengers before everything; then a lunch on the beach where you told her about how you almost drowned when you were 9 — that day, you saw the most genuine smile she could give you given her current conditions, and you felt your heart beat differently for the redhead. Then a dinner at your place — where you learned to make paprikash just to see her smile and complain that the dish lacked pepper — with wine, where Wanda cried missing her boys, and you were officially classified by her as: "the best shoulder I’ve ever cried on, and believe me, I never cry."

Wanda hadn’t realized how important your presence had become in her life, not until you needed to travel for an important case. She missed you, and that confused her. After all, how could a visit so unpleasant and peculiar make her want... for it to be daily? That you would visit her every day and bring the cinnamon rolls from that bakery on your street that she loved so much. That you would learn more Sokovian recipes just to make her smile.

Then the kiss happened in one of those moments of silence, when words were no longer necessary. You were sitting next to her, watching the sunset through the broken window of the house she called her temporary home. The sky was tinged with shades of orange and red, as if the universe itself was painting a canvas just for the two of you.

Wanda seemed calmer that day. Her shoulders weren’t as tense, and the eyes that always seemed to hold storms had a soft, almost peaceful glow. She suddenly looked at you, and there was something in her expression that made the air feel thicker.

"Why do you stay?" she asked, her voice low, almost a whisper.

"Because I want to," you replied, without hesitation.

She tilted her head, as if trying to understand something that didn't make sense to her. "You're strange," she murmured, but there was a small, almost imperceptible smile on her lips.

"I prefer 'unique,'" you responded, teasing, though your voice trembled a little.

Then, before you could say anything more, she leaned toward you. It was a hesitant movement, as if testing the waters, but when her lips finally met yours, everything else disappeared.

The kiss was everything both of you had imagined it would be — and more. It was soft, but filled with emotion, as if Wanda was pouring everything she couldn't say in words into that moment. You felt her hand move to your face, her fingers tracing your jawline with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of the kiss.

When you pulled away, she looked at you with something new in her eyes: hope. "You're not like anyone I've ever met," she said, her voice barely audible.

"Neither are you," you replied, smiling.

Months later, after your wedding in the Russian summer, when Wanda told you she was pregnant, the smile on her face was so wide it seemed to light up the entire room. You were sitting on the couch of your new home, a place you had chosen together, far from the chaos and painful memories of the past.

"I can hardly believe it," she said, placing her hands on her still-flat belly, but with eyes shining with genuine happiness. "After everything... after everything that happened, I never thought I would have this."

You held her hand, squeezing it gently. "You deserve all the happiness in the world, Wanda. And these babies already have the best mother they could ask for."

The following months were a mix of nerves and joy. You had never seen Wanda so happy. She decorated the twins' room with soft colors, but couldn't resist using a bit of magic to create constellations shining on the ceiling.

"I want them to grow up knowing that the entire universe is within their reach," she explained, smiling at you as she adjusted the details with a wave of her hand.

The day Tommy and Billy were born, Wanda cried. Tears of genuine happiness, as she held the two little ones in her arms. You were beside her, holding her hand, unable to hold back your own tears.

"I never thought I could be this happy," she whispered, looking at you.

"You deserve this, my love," you replied, kissing her forehead.

Exactly seven years later, when Wanda and you were waiting for the pregnancy test to be ready, this time for Seline, Wanda could hardly believe it. It was as if the universe was finally giving back to her everything it had taken before.

Wanda looked at you that day with the same gaze she had in your first kiss — full of love and hope. "You gave me this," she said, placing her hand on your belly, moved by feeling the baby's heartbeat against your skin. "You gave me everything I thought I could never have."

You laughed, wiping away a tear that escaped. "That's not how it works, Wanda. We did this together."

During Seline's pregnancy, Wanda seemed even more radiant than before. She spent hours reading storybooks to the twins, and often you would wake up in the night to find her caressing your belly, softly murmuring in Sokovian.

When Seline was born, you knew your family was complete.

"She's so perfect," Wanda said, with a soft smile as she held the little one in her arms.

"She has your eyes," you replied, feeling a wave of love flood your chest.

And in that moment, as you looked at Wanda and the three children you had brought into the world together, you knew that everything you had been through — all the pain, all the sacrifice — had been worth it.

The path back to the camp seemed almost irrelevant in the face of the intensity that was growing between you. Each step you took on the trail was an extension of what you had shared in that intimate moment, when Wanda had opened a piece of her soul to you. The words she had spoken echoed in your mind, but it wasn’t the words that mattered at that moment — it was the feeling.

You felt a mix of adoration and a deep desire for her, and Wanda seemed to understand this as clearly as you did. But there was something more, an urgency in both of you, as if fate had brought you together once again for another dance, this time with immeasurable depth.

"You asked me to show what I’m capable of," Wanda said, breaking the silence between you. Her voice was soft, but there was something threatening in the way she spoke, something that could only come from a woman who knew the power she possessed, yet remained vulnerable. "Do you still want to love me after all of this?"

She turned her face to you, and her eyes were shining with a mixture of insecurity and provocation. The silence between you seemed to carry centuries of repressed desire, of lost and found loves, as if you both were made for this moment, but had lived countless lives and universes before finally being here, together.

You didn’t hesitate. Your hands rose to Wanda’s face, touching her gently, as if you feared she might disappear at any moment. But she didn’t disappear. She was there. And you, without words, simply looked into her eyes, trying to convey all the love and certainty you felt.

"I want to love you because of all of this," you said, your voice firm, but heavy with something more — a promise, an oath made with heart and soul.

When your eyes met, the distance between you vanished, as if the entire universe had been reduced to this single moment. Time stopped. And deep down, you felt something like the touch of past lives, as if you had been there with her, in some other place, in some other time. Something that transcended everything that had happened, all the struggles, all the deaths and rebirths.

She leaned in slowly, and her lips touched yours with an unexpected softness, as if testing the moment, measuring the intensity of her own desire. But soon, the softness turned into urgency, as if, finally,

Wanda knew there was no turning back. And you, with your heart racing, matched every movement of hers, with the same intensity, with the same hunger. It was as if everything around you had disappeared, and there were only the two of you. No universe, no past, no pain.

The kiss was like a river flowing between mountains, gentle and impetuous at the same time. When Wanda’s lips touched yours, there was no more space for anything — no fear, no doubt, just the need to be consumed by her, to surrender to what fate had already drawn. It was as if everything had been a preparation for that moment. Your souls recognized each other immediately, as if they had known each other since the beginning of time, as if they had met in all past lives, in all universes, in all reincarnations. The feeling of something eternal, something that couldn’t be broken, settled between you.

It was a soft touch at first, a silent exploration, but soon the need for more became apparent. Wanda’s tongue slid against yours, and the tension between you dissolved in the intensity of that contact. It was more than passion; it was a union of everything you had been and everything you would still be. The kiss became more urgent, as if, by touching, you were rediscovering each other, merging. The world around you disappeared, the sound of the rain, the shadows of the night — everything became secondary. There was only the heat of bodies, the exchange of breaths, and the silent magic dancing in the air, reflecting the indescribable connection between you.

Wanda slowly pulled away, as if reluctant to leave that moment. Her eyes were darker now, but there was something deeply different in them. Something deeper than any expression you had ever seen in her before. Something immense, an ocean of feelings overflowing without words. And you knew. You knew that, in that look, she was giving you her soul, all the pain, all the love, all the hope.

She touched your face with trembling hands, as if wanting to engrave the outline of your being into her memory, as if she needed you desperately, as if her happiness now depended on you. Her voice was hoarse, broken, but filled with a sincerity so pure it seemed to tear her very heart apart.

"You are everything I need," Wanda murmured, almost like a plea, like a truth she was finally accepting. The desperation was there, in her eyes, in the tone of her voice. "I never knew what it really meant to live until now... until you."

Those words settled in your chest with the force of a silent scream. And then, without needing to respond, you moved closer to her, your bodies fitting together as if they had always been meant to do so. It was as if, by being together, the entire universe became lighter, clearer.

And in the touch, in the exchange of heat, you knew. You knew that she was desperate to be saved, to be happy, to find a home. It wasn’t just about the love you shared, but everything she wanted to build — a life, a family, a future. That kiss was not just passion: it was a promise. A promise that, together, you could create something that would resist time and fate.

When she pulled her face away slightly, breathing heavily, you saw the vulnerability in her eyes, the fragility of someone carrying the weight of an entire world on their shoulders. But you also saw something more — a renewed strength, a confidence. Because, even with the pain she carried, she knew you were there, by her side, for whatever came.

And you whispered back, with a soft but firm voice, so Wanda would know what you felt, without doubt, without hesitation. "I’m here, Wanda. Forever. And we will build all of this together. As many times as it takes."

She smiled, a smile mixed with tears and hope, as if, at that moment, the world was finally a place worth conquering. You knew their future would be unpredictable, but you also knew, with an almost palpable certainty, that they had found each other for the last time. And that, in the end, was all that mattered.

The kiss that followed was gentler, but no less intense. It was as if, in that moment, you were building a new beginning. The future, uncertain and challenging, seemed promising, because by her side, Wanda had everything she had always needed: you. And by your side, you had everything you had always wanted: her.

And so, in the silence of the night, with the rain tapping on the windows and the distant echoes of the camp, you and Wanda surrendered to this truth. A truth stronger than any magic, stronger than any fate. Because what you shared was eternal, and nothing, no one, could destroy it. The connection between you was stronger than anything that could be said. Stronger than any magic, stronger than any destiny. It was something intangible, yet as real as the air you breathed. Something eternal, that would withstand any battle, any pain.

And so, in the silence of the night, between the distant echoes of the camp and the touch of your bodies still tingling from the intensity of the kiss, you both knew that nothing else mattered. Because, in the end, you were together.

~*~

Oh. I need her.

Tag list <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

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[lizbethborden]

I'll go ahead and reveal some ignorance. Hopefully it doesn't make anyone lose respect. I understand why people aren't going to vote for Biden, but generally speaking I don't see people talking about a practical alternative? People who vote independent are going to split the Dem vote. People who don't vote are just not voting. Okay, you guys do your thing, I understand the principles behind your actions. That said, it is most likely that under those circumstances, just like in 2016, Trump will be elected. If Trump is re-elected, Project 2025 will probably be initiated in some flavor, the goal of which is to reshape American politics after Trump's re-election in order to establish Christian nationalism in law, roll back measures that protect the climate, expand presidential powers, remove protections for gender and sexual minorities, etc. Trump already took many actions while in office to advance goals like these. So, I'm not going to go up to anyone and castigate them for not voting for Biden. I understand why they are not voting for Biden. But what is the thing that follows from that? What's the next step? What's the alternative? What are our options for preventing this initiative from taking place? How do we act following the election?

[kakusu-shipping]

karma again! just out of curiosity since i'm a bit confused, but are you a system with a korosensei fictive?

No, but I can totally see how you'd get that idea, the way I talk is confusing. I'm surprised you're the first to ask honestly.

You know how some people waste resources with like, Character AI chat bots? It's like that, but the computer is my brain.

I'll get really hyper focused on a character and build up their personality, reactions, likes and dislikes and such in my head until they're basically fully functionally in there and running on their own, talking to me or other characters bounding around up there.

For most it's temporary, they'll run for a month or so straight and then shut off to rest. They're still THERE, just not on.

But for Koro-Sensei he's basically always on. I'm constantly running his programming because I like seeing how he reacts to things, mostly media I'm into at the moment, and I feel very confident about how I visualize him.

So no, not a system, no alters, it's just me and my wildly overactive imaginary Koro-Sensei program against the world.

[honey-pages]

Mine - Viktor x Reader

Description -

Viktor performs oral on virgin Reader.

1.5k words

F/M. 18+. Smut. NSFW. Oral. Virgin Reader.

“How do you know so much about everything?” You joked. 

You had not expected Viktor to take it so seriously. He seemed a little wounded. 

“Do I appear to think I know so much about everything?” He asked in response.

“I didn’t mean it like that Viktor” You explained, “I just meant that you are so intelligent and knowledgeable, sometimes I can feel a bit out of my depth.”

“Ah” He looked saddened “I had never considered that you would feel this way, you keep up with me so well”

The sight of him disheartened hurt. 

“I think it’s really attractive.” You try to reassure him, “When you know so much. It’s never a negative”

He chuckled, “You find my knowledge attractive?”

“Well, I find the whole of you attractive, but there’s something special about hearing things that you are clearly well-educated in.”

“Oh really?” He asks, “My education isn’t strictly academic you know”

Viktor looks amused, leaning forward on his elbows across the table at you. You had been flirting in his study for some time and it appeared to be coming to a natural conclusion. You were nervous though still confident in the experience being positive and what you wanted. You were very inexperienced sexually and this long period of flirtation proved enough for you to decide exactly how you wanted it. 

“Teach me” You state.

“Teach you what?” He asks with a bemused smile.

“Something non-academic”

“Anything?”

“Anything”

“Follow me to my bed, Miss (Y/N).” He invites.

Viktor’s bedroom is adjoined to his study, the two spaces linked by a door. As he stands, he reaches out a hand and you take it and follow him. His bedroom is clean, warm and dark, with a small lamp in the corner and a made bed to the right wall. Viktor closes the door behind you.

Viktor leads you to the bed and sits next to you. He turns and looks at you for a long while, examining the curves of your face and the familiar look of your skin. He is honoured you are trusting him in this way and equally excited at being in this position. He had felt romantically towards you for quite some time however was not sure you returned his feelings. Today had given him the courage to pursue them, your flirtatious conversations had become a green light encouraging him to indulge himself in your affection. 

You could see something in the way he watched you, judging and perceiving. He raised his hand to your face, his thumb swiping over your cheek and moving to grip the back of your head, playing with your hair. He pulls you in for a passionate kiss. 

“I am going to teach you” He manages, between breaths and kisses, “how my tongue feels.”

At this, Viktor increased his urgency, kissing you hungrily. He reclines you onto his bed, your head on his pillow as he lays above you, supporting his weight on his arms. He slips a knee between your thighs. 

“I will start with the basic principle” He starts, licking at your tongue gently, as if testing the temperature.

“Then maybe I will introduce some alternative methods” He continues, removing his mouth from yours to follow the curve of your jaw to your neck. When at your ear, he stops. His breath is warm and heavy, and it sends shivers through you when he speaks. His knee is pressing into you, its weight unbearable. The pressure against you was enough to make your hips move on their own, riding his thigh. 

Viktor watches you attempt to find friction, he grins, finding the sight amusing. 

“All it takes is my knee to elicit this reaction Miss (Y/N), I will make easy work of you with my mouth.”

You try to flirt back, “Viktor- “

Viktor’s knee is moving now, grinding at you relentlessly. His mouth is licking and biting at your neck, trailing to your chest. He shifts his weight to hold one of your hands, lifting it above your head and pinning it there. With his other hand, Viktor lifts your shirt, rearranging your bra to get a better view of you. 

“I am going to give you a demonstration” Viktor lowers his mouth to your breast, tilting to the side so you can view what he is doing with his tongue. Viktor licks gently at the very tip of you, then beginning to swirl his tongue around the sides, takes you into his mouth sucking with firm pressure. The feel of him and the sight of his tongue and lips on you makes you grind harder against his knee. His mouth is hot. His hand cups you and he squeezes, incorporating teeth to gently graze you. Between nips of his teeth, he rapidly flicks his tongue, continuing this with long smooth strokes. 

Viktor moves his mouth to kiss you again, he shifts down. The pressure of his knee is removed, and he shuffles towards the lower end of the bed. Kneeling, he pulls down your trousers, manoeuvring them under your hips and off down your legs. He discards them at the bottom of the bed. He lays flat on his front, face hovering just above the top of your thighs and hooks an arm under each of your legs, pulling you under his mouth. 

“Are you ready for me?” He asks.

He spreads open your legs slowly, laying them flat before him. He takes in the view, grinning happily. 

“I have often thought about this moment”

Viktor coats his fingers with his mouth, using the saliva he has already worked up. His fingers drip with it as he teases you open, sliding against your folds, holding you open and sensitive. 

“You are exactly what I imagined. No one before has had the pleasure of tasting you, have they Miss (Y/N)?”

You stumble, “No.”

“You belong beneath my tongue. You always have done.”

Viktor’s fingers circle your clit, tracing small shapes.

“Are you a virgin, Miss (Y/N)?”

You get quite nervous at the question. You were. You weren’t sure how Viktor would react. There was no reason why you though that he would react negatively, you had gathered he was experienced. If at least, more so than yourself. You had just become quite protective over it; you wanted the situation to be comfortable and equal.

“Yes.” You reply quietly.

You feel a blazing heat as Viktor closes his mouth around you, lapping with broad strokes against your clit. The inside of his mouth is wet, and you feel his saliva coat you, spreading warmth down and across your thighs. His tongue feels so smooth, he curls it and flicks it to achieve maximum sensation, and you are instantly coming undone. 

“Viktor!” You moan out.

“You moan so purely” He teases, “It is fitting that the only thing to have ever fucked you is my tongue.”

You push up and against his mouth. His words are sweet and when he speaks, your body reacts. You are desperate for him, for more of him. He thrusts his tongue inside. You instinctively wrap your hands into his hair. 

“Oh Viktor- “

He speeds up, flatly spreading his tongue between your entrance and your clit, focusing on either when reaching them. At your clit he rapidly flicks and sucks, increasing pressure and focus. 

“Just focus on the feeling, I want to hear the noises you make.”

You feel a strange rising in your core, like a building heat threatening to explode. It is raising as he quickens. Viktor is grinding into the bed, you notice it in his hips, he’s writhing. He wants you just as much as you want him. 

“You are mine” He murmurs, the words lost in the muffled sounds of the both of you. “Once I’m done having you on my face, I’ll have you on my cock.”

You are both desperate. You for release, and him for touch. 

“Viktor, Can I have- “Your words fail you.

“What do you want, Miss (Y/N)?”

“You, your cock, please- “

“Do you need it, Miss (Y/N)?” He asks, making eye contact while flicking his tongue backwards and forwards. 

“Yes Viktor, please” 

“How do you expect to take me when you haven yet experienced all that my tongue can do?”

Viktor tightens his grip and forces you down with more pressure against the muscles of his mouth. The feeling is rising again, that unfamiliar pleasure. You are near the edge you just can’t tell what that edge is, until you are spilling over it, desperately grinding over his tongue, coating his nose and chin with thick wetness.

“I’m- “You scream out.

Viktor drinks it down, swallowing you whole. He doesn’t dare move his mouth, he keeps his pace and encourages more and more from you. Your pleasure is blinding. 

“I can’t take anymore!” You moan out, trying to grip at his arms to loosen up their firm grasp on your thighs. 

“You are capable.” 

You are shuddering against him, sweating. He leaves a few little kisses over your clit before pulling away. His face is wet, his hair dishevelled. You notice the thick outline of him straining against his clothes. 

He reassures that you are comfortable before stating, “I am going to make you mine, Miss (Y/N).”

Tag List - @veru-boom, @gubkkki, @hi-hope-hop-in, @gloriousevolutionz

[ezrazone]

i will never be “anti-AI” (not a description of a principled political stance by any measure) because my actual experience with the technology is explaining to mohamed and other people who’ve asked me for fundraiser advice not to put machine-generated images on their campaigns. why? because tumblr users are distrustful of these images and may become stingy with their money or even drum up false accusations of scamming. reactions to AI have brought out a level of human cruelty that no infographic about industrial-scale water expenditure can obscure.

mohamed is lucky because i have hand-made art for him. how many millions of people will never have that same opportunity because westerners are genuinely just as stingy with their empire’s blood money as they are with the craft they claim to be preserving through their crusades against technology?

my prayer today: use your skills for good. make some art for mohamed or for somebody who you know needs your unconditional care right now. stop fighting with the shadows on the wall and step into life. may god protect you and protect mohamed’s family.

(edit: rbs off on this post but mohamed’s fundraiser continues.)

[liahaslosthermind]

~𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭~ Part 1

Part 1 of The Spy Master's Secret Find more ACOTAR works here! Summary: The Inner Circle has questions they need answered, too bad the one person they rely on for secret information is also the one who doesn't want to answer it. Warnings: Swearing, Cas and Rhysand fight, mention of *that* Solstice conversation, but I actually write Rhys as not an asshole in this one

Part 2 out now!

“It would certainly be me!” Nesta yelled, her voice joining the many that were arguing in the Inner Circle. 

Her mate let out a bellowing laugh, finding the statement ridiculous. She wouldn’t have been as pissed, had he not doubled over when realizing how very serious she was. 

“Nesta, don’t be ridiculous. You could be attached to him for 100 years straight and it still wouldn’t hold a candle to either me nor Cassian.” Rhysand stated, the air of superiority around him while making such a statement caused a shoe to fly at his head.

“Don’t be an ass, Rhys.” 

“Of course, Ferye, Darling.” The High Lord slumped down a little at that. 

The argument had been going on for far too long and after far too many drinks consumed, there wasn’t a resolution in sight.

“Well, now that we have established Nesta is out of the running, does anyone want to nominate themselves? Or will it only be Rhys and I?” Cassian asked.

Everyone was silent, minus Nesta who was angrily huffing at both her mate and his brother’s arrogance. 

“Good. Now, Rhysand, tell me what in Prythian has possessed you to think he would ever pick you over me?”

“What! Cas, you cannot actually be serious enough to think it would be yo-”

“If I remember correctly, one Solstice night a few years ago dethroned you forever.”

“That is not fair and you know it! Plus, we have made up tenfold.”

“Doesn’t matter, its about principles.”

“Please! Cassian, what the fuck do you know about principles?”

“Oh, I’ll show you principles alright-” Was all the General said before he promptly tackled Rhysand to the ground. 

Everyone else in the room just rolled their eyes. It seemed the fight would never end. 

“What am I looking at?” Lucian asked as he walked in on the brawl, noting how Amren and Mor were in the corner exchanging money for the bets they had already placed on the two Illyrians still fighting on the ground. 

“Cassian called himself Azriel’s best friend.” Elain explained as she moved over slightly on the couch, beckoning her mate forward. 

“I thought he was?” Lucian replied.

“Thank you!... I knew- I liked… you, Vanserra” Cassian managed to get out while Rhysand tried and failed to put him in a headlock. 

“I still think it's me.” Nesta grumbled. 

“I don’t understand why you all can’t ask Azriel himself?” Gwyn pitched in. 

The two brothers stopped their fighting as everyone looked to the priestess. 

Clearly, the thought hadn’t crossed anyones’ mind.

They all slowly turned to the Shadowsinger, who had been sitting in the chair by the corner of the room, shadows dancing around him, clearly enjoying the show as much as he was. 

“Come on, boy. Put the two most powerful idiots in Prythian out of their misery.” Amren said commanded 

The rest of the Inner Circle waited impatiently for Azriel’s response, which he purposefully took a pause before answering to torture them.

“Cassian, Rhysand, you both are my brothers. But I wouldn’t classify either of you as my best friend.” He finally responded. “What the fuck?” “Are you serious?” They yelled over each other.

“Ha! I knew it had to be m-” Nesta was cut off by the hand Azriel raised, pausing her thought. 

“Nesta, you are a very dear friend of mine. I appreciate our friendship very much… but it isn’t you either.”

The tension building from everyone’s anticipation was almost suffocating. 

The Spy Master opened his mouth then, deciding better of it, closed it. Getting out of his chair and walking to the door without a word. 

“Hold on!” Rhysand yelled and the House of Wind shut the door in front of Azriel, as if it too wanted to hear his answer.

Unamused, Azriel turned around to the sea of expectant faces.

“Azriel. You don’t think your… shadows are your best friend, right?” Cassian asked, a pitying tone in his voice.

Az’s shoulders shook with silent laughter at the string of curses his shadows sent at the General, even if Cassian couldn’t hear them.

“No, I don’t. But they don’t appreciate the tone, Cas.” Azriel answered as he watched his shadows menacingly circle Cassian. Finally deciding to put everyone out of their misery, he replied: 

“You don’t know her.” 

Before walking into the shadows, escaping the shouts of vulgarity that filled the room at his nonresponse.

A/n: Do y'all want a part 2?

Update: Read part 2 here!

[jewreallythinkthat]

One of the reasons I think there has been such a breakdown between the "progressive" left and the Jewish community is actually something that I've watched before fostered in left wing spaces for well over a decade and that is looking for offence.

When someone says something antisemitic, that does not mean they are an antisemite. I remember when the BLM marches took place, people rightly pointed out that there is a lot of unconscious bias against PoC and that being called out for eating something you didn't realise was problematic does not mean you are actually racist, just that you need to think a bit more when talking about a subject which in many cases, doesn't affect you as such. The same principle should apply to antisemitism.

If I say someone has said something antisemitic, their first reaction (on the left wing - because the right will proudly nod that yes, it was antisemitic) is often "you're calling me an antisemite and trying to silence me, Zionist". This is not true. What I am saying is that you are saying something that is discriminatory, invoked blood libel, accused Jews of ruling the world etc etc. I fully believe most people do not realise they are doing this. The point of dog whistles is that you are not supposed to recognise them, that's how they propagate. Anti-jewish racism is one of the oldest forms of hatred and it stretches back multiple millennia so it makes sense that it's literally inside the common vernacular. That doesn't mean everyone using it is an antisemite.

Instead of immidiately jumping to the defensive, I wish people would take a moment to ask, in good faith, "why would a Jewish person find this antisemitic?" Take the opportunity to learn, to better themself. Do not assume every Jew is trying to silence you - assuming the worst every time of Jewish people is a type of antisemitism so please try and put yourself in their shoes and maybe even ask them to explain so you can do better in the future.

Just a general overview, here's a couple of ones to look out for (a non exhaustive list).

1. Replace the word "Zionist" in what has Ben said with "Jew". If it sounds like something leeched out of Nazi Germanh or the Soviet Union, it's probably going to be antisemitism.

2. Saying you don't think any country should exist but focusing exclusively on the destruction of Israel. The only thing that makes Israel unique is that it's a Jewish majority country. So why is that the only county you actively want to get rid of?

2.1 Holding Israel to a higher standard than any other country is antisemitic as laid out above in point 2.

3. Assuming the worst of Jews and Israel every time is antisemitism. It's no different to assuming Black people are always out to get you or all Muslims are terrorists. If it's racist to do this to one minority group, it is racist to do it to any.

4. Tokenizing extremists in a community (Ben Gvir and the West Bank settlers on the right wing in Israel, the Neturi Karta by the progressive left when discussing I/P) is racist. If you only listen to Jews who prove your point, you are actively excluding the majority of a community so you can beat them down, this is racist.

I don't like calling people antisemitic because most people are not actually that, what they are is uneducated on antisemetism because the majority of that education is not being done by Jews - let alone Jews who represent the majority of the community.

But if you refuse to talk to Jews in good faith when they try to explain why what you have said is antisemitic, you are running the risk of moving from "ignorant user of antisemetic language" to "antisemite" (also a note, ignorant not meaning stupid but rather that you do not know something).

[idontcaboose]

Haunted car Au part 11

Previous. Masterpost

When Duke woke up, he remembered the fight he had with Bruce last night. All in all, it was actually what Duke wanted to happen in a way. Duke got full access to “fix” the Batmobile, but just the way Bruce made it sound was just… Infuriating. Like, sure, blame the newly 17 year old kid who had only moved the car, not even a hundred feet, for everything wrong with the car. Being benched until he figured out how to get whoever was possessing the car sucked though.

The good news is that the only people who would be awake to bother him or ask unwanted questions would be Alfred and maybe Tim. If Tim got on his case it would be simple to call in Alfred or to threaten him with calling in Alfred. The only other people that use the cave like the front door are Dick and Jason. Both would be up for hiding the issue from Bruce once explained. Dick would be a bleeding heart to a potential meta/alien kid getting stuck because of their powers. Jason would keep the secret just on principle, especially if told Duke got blamed for something he had no hand in. Jason would probably help set the kid up after he gets out of the car too, assuming Bruce doesn't pull a Bruce. It would be nice to not be the only meta in the family though, and the kid would already know about the family, but that would be the kids choice.

After a short breakfast, Duke made his way back down to the cave, only to hear a…Rave?

He made his way through the cave following the muted music to… the car…

“What in every hell are you doing?” Duke could not help to exclaim as he saw the Batmobile, for lack of a better comparison, dancing.

The car was strobing its headlights from the yellow driver's lights, to the brights, to the color changing LEDs Jason and Dick put in for a party prank that Bruce never removed, all to the beat of some techno that had to have been in Tim's Playlist. The car stopped in its perceived dancing to open its door in another mockery of a wave causing the music to become almost deafening as the door opened. Duke had to cover his ears as the kid in the car panicked and set off its alarm before turning everything off. If Duke thought the cacophony before was deafening, the silence after was even more so.

“Seriously, what the hell kid?” Duke said with as much incredulity as he could muster.

The car responded with a slow turning of its front wheels and a quieter sound of ‘Sorry’ by Justin Beiber playing, which could have been from either Dick or Steph’s playlists.

“You know what? I am not going to deal with song names and lyrics to guess from. Give me a second.” Duke went to the Batcomputer and found Tim's folder containing all of the sound bytes and clips that he uses when he gets real malicious with the power points for his team, the JL, or for Bruce when he is being exceptionally pissy, and downloads it onto a large USB stick. It took a little longer than Duke expected, but within an hour the USB was downloading its new playlist into the Batmobile’s radio storage. The sound bytes should be better than songs, right?

“GOOOOOOODDDDDD MOOOOORRRRRRNNNING GOOOOOOOTTTHHHHAAAAAAAAAMMMM!!!!!!!!!!”

“God dammit Tim”

Next

@kizzer55555 @sebas-nights @candeartist422   @trappednyourheart @fandom-life-corrupted-me @tkiesai @2lbballpeenhammer @admiralwidow @rewrittenwrongs @whotfevenknowsanymore @symmetricalastigmatism @thespacedragons @atinygracie @okami-love  @lesbian-spider-drone @1n0sss @forgetmenot-bluepurple

[liloinkoink]

HEY GUYS CANNOT BELIEVE I HAVE TO SAY THIS BUT DO NOT MAKE A C.AI BOT OF ME, LIKE LITERALLY ME ???????

girl am i in the twilight zone right now. what is this.

hey guys so like fun fact in case you did not know i am a real human person. you can message me. my ask box has been open all like ten years i have been on this website. my messages have been open since they added that feature to tumblr. youre allowed to just talk to me. you do not have to make a fake, 2D version of me to roleplay talking to me

related, i am a real human person, and this is an incredibly weird and dehumanizing thing to do. i don’t know how to explain that any more clearly. i didn’t think i would need to? like. i’m not a creator playing an RP character. i am not fictional. i am literally just a guy on tumblr. this is really fucking a weird thing to do to me

also, i am very vocally anti generative ai and anti chatbot. this is not only incredibly dehumanizing, but incredibly violating of my principles as a writer and as a person. i have never been shy about this. i talk about it all the time. this is incredibly disrespectful

but just like. to reiterate. make sure this is fully and clearly stated, bc apparently it needs to be stated explicitly

1) do not make AI chatbots of me. i am a human being who is very easily accessible. you can just talk to me. my messages are open

2) do not make AI chat bots based on my writing or characters.

3) do not put any of my writing through any kind of generative ai. ever.

[cheriladycl01]

Could you do SMAU for Toto Wolff with wife reader where she is a huge bookworm and he always so supportive about her passion And the Internet has gone crazy about it. Thanks :))

Bookstagram - Toto Wolff x BookwormWife! Reader

Plot: Taking a look through your bookstagram and how supportive Toto Wolff is of your love for reading. Encouraging you to pursue your dream of writing.

Credit to multibabydoll for the GIF

You loved reading and books. Before you met Toto, you used to be a bookseller and then worked for a publishing house. You actually met Toto because of the influx in Motorsport Romance's that made your company send you to a race to get some ... hands on experience and you ended up having your own sort of Motorsport Romance with a Team Principle.

You ended up marrying Toto and at first it was hard, but when COVID came and you ended up working from home since then so coming to the races had been much easier.

y/user

Liked by lucyscore laurenroberts and mercedesamgf1

y/user: My reads of the month! Really loved both of these and I can’t wait for book to from Lauren!

Book 1: Things We Hide From The Light by Lucy Score

Book 2: Powerless by Lauren Roberts

Tagged 2 People

View all 237 comments

lucyscore: I’m glad you enjoyed this one!

-> y/user: it’s really good!

fan1: i love these!

toto.wolff: Is this the book you were reading on the plane?

-> y/user: Yes, the other one I read at the race track!

laurenroberts: babe! I’m glad you enjoyed! Come to a book signing and I’ll get you a proof of Powerful!

-> y/user: no stop! I’d love that!

DM’s

laurenroberts: Hey Babe, got an event on 29th November, in Florida. You want to come as my special guest?

y/n: id love that! Thank you so much for the invite! I’ll just need to talk to my husband. I’ve never travelled solo and I’m a nervous traveller!

laurenroberts: That’s fine! Just let me know as and when babe!

“Babe, can we talk for a second” you asked your husband as you walk into the kitchen where he is sat with his morning coffee.

"Yes honey what is it?" he asks looking over at you, pushing a glass of orange juice towards you.

"Well, one of the authors that I really like invited me to a book signing.."

"Oh that's amazing sweetheart. Are you going to go?" he says checking his emails not fully paying attention.

"Well, thats the thing. It's over a race weekend... and" you start but his head bolts up to interrupt you.

"You better not be asking for my permission for if you can go, you know you don't have to ask!" he says almost as though he's offended you with think that of him!

"No, no of course not. But I'm scared to go alone, you know how I am!" you explain and he nods remembering the last time you guys flew.

"Well, how about I buy you a nice first class ticket and make the experience worth it. I'll pay for a fancy hotel and a spa evening for when you land ... how does that sound" he grins pulling you into him kissing your forehead.

"You don't have to do that for me!" you exclaim feeling bad!

"Ah no honey, I do this all for you!" he smiles pulling you in for a full kiss.

y/user

Liked by stephaniegarber and ashleyposton

y/n: What do you guys prefer, Romance or Fantasy. I love finding quiet corners at the race track!

Tagged 8 People

View all 212 comments

stephaniegarber: Did you enjoy it?

-> y/user: It was so good! I moved straight onto Legend! And Toto brought me OUABH!

ashleyposton: I see those outlines! Thank you for your review on goodreads!

olivia_blake: ahhhh, i hope you enjoy it!

fan1: Y/N is definielty a motorsport romance girlie considering she literally lived one!

->fan2: i forget about this!

"Baby, you have to stop packing so many books!" Toto laughs as he gets out his card to pay the extra bagging expense where your bags had ended up being overweight.

"I'm so so sorry! I didn't realize how many I'd take back with me, American Books are so much more floppy than the ones at home... even though I prefer our covers!" she answers, going to get her card out.

"I'll pay baby don't be silly!" Toto laughs tapping his card as air port staff come over and help you guys take the bags away.

"You are my little book worm aren't you!" he grins pinching your cheeks like an older lady.

"Stop!" you say swatting his hand away.

y/user

Liked by toto.wolff and others

y/n: Toto helped me rebuild my book nook AND took me out for a book haul! It's up on my YouTube now!

Link

Tagged 1 Person

View all 301 comments

sarahjmaas: looks amazing!

toto.wolff: I'm happy to help baby!

-> y/user: BEST HUSBAND.

You and Toto had spend the day putting up the swinging chair, and making the room cozy with fairy lights.

He had started to organize your shelves in colour coordination order making a rainbow. You felt so bad when your need to have them in genre and alphabetical order took over.

"Baby, as incredible as this looks, I'm never going to find any books!" you argued and he looks and pulled out Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros.

"See I found you current smutty dragon book!" he smiles handing it to you and your eyes widen at the lingo he was using.

"Have you been... watching my videos?" you ask in shock.

"Mmmm yes honey. i find them very amusing!" he admits and you just stare at him in shock.

y/user

Liked by lewishamilton and toto.wolff

y/n: He looks like this so that I can look like this …

I LOVE MY HUSBAND

Tagged One Person

View all 245 comments

fan1: shes so unserious ... lmao

fan2: and you look fab!

You were thankful that Toto worked as hard as he did, he treated you all the time and you treated him in return.

Your husband was so supportive and was without a doubt the best thing that had ever happened to you.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul l @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

do you think alhaitham is a yearner for kaveh or the other way around

Anon thank you so much for this ask <3 it turns out that this is more complicated than I thought. since alhaitham is so embarrassingly obvious, I think kaveh’s own version of ‘yearning’ can be overlooked, so thank you for giving me an opportunity to explore both! I am using your ask as an excuse to show how embarrassing alhaitham is, he has no shame!! therefore i've had to split this answer into two posts!

alhaitham essentially building his life around kaveh being a part of it is ultimate down bad behaviour:

the house: alhaitham’s character stories give us very little about alhaitham’s life after his fallout with kaveh and his graduation. we’re told that he moves out of his grandmother’s house to move into the research facility gifted to him and kaveh? and it’s only after he moves in that he’s told by a third-party that kaveh has no need for the property, so only then does he convert the property into a house

So it seems he moved in with some expectation of encountering kaveh at some point, especially considering it was their joint property. There’s no reason given why he opted to move out of his grandmother’s house but I think it's interesting that kaveh’s character stories detail that a house is not a home without other occupants who understand him without words, which causes him to sell his parents’ house as he was the only occupant, which parallels with alhaitham moving out of a house in which he also is the sole occupant, into a property which ties him and kaveh together

The bulletin boards/academic journals: although it isn’t specified who made the first journal critique, if it falls in line with alhaitham incessantly responding to all of kaveh’s bulletin board points, I’d like to think that alhaitham reached out first here, just as he moved into their joint property without actually knowing that kaveh had no use for it – although they had separated at this point, regardless of who reached out first, alhaitham was still actively pursuing kaveh’s perspective here, as this was the only instance of kaveh being in his life… oh….

during the archon quest: alhaitham mentioning kaveh without any prompt whatsoever lives in my head, even more so that this seems to be a musing that he didn’t even mean to say out loud? Sick!!

And when kaveh eventually returns, alhaitham says that he doesn’t want to have to explain the whole thing to kaveh, so he should leave the house of daena before kaveh returns, but he doesn’t?

Special mention of the gathering in the grand bazaar where alhaitham equates his own happiness to that of the people of the gathering, and then immediately mentions how he must have taken both keys leaving the house, indicating that another reason for his happiness increased because kaveh has returned, and that his way of life has been maintained - meaning that kaveh is one of his priorities (i brainrot more about this here)

Alhaitham’s story quest: the motif of kaveh ensuring alhaitham’s content is returned to with force in alhaitham’s story quest with establishing kaveh as someone alhaitham chooses not to be objective about, with kaveh being framed as alhaitham’s priority

(additionally, this expression, absolutely criminal)

kaveh’s hangout and voice lines: kaveh is shown once again to be an exception to alhaitham’s objectivity, as alhaitham inserts himself into kaveh’s ‘fate’ to offer him a place to stay when kaveh’s choices led him to selling his house, having no place to go – this overturns alhaitham’s principle of being uninvolved with people’s fates, and pulling kaveh back to shore, as opposed to standing on the sidelines

kaveh’s hangout is really special to me as it showcases alhaitham’s whole understanding of kaveh, not only his inner psyche, but also how to secure kaveh’s happiness through an indirect action, as kaveh’s heart meter increases once seeing the response a student wrote to his annotations, it demonstrates that alhaitham’s care towards kaveh is most explicitly shown with actions

a parade of providence: alhaitham becomes the event's commentator solely to investigate Sachin to see if he influenced kaveh’s father, attempting to give kaveh closure and alleviate his self-destructive mindset. in the same vein, alhaitham leaves kaveh note that in a language the two learnt together for their thesis commenting on kaveh's ideologies and how it can lead to suffering.

this really solidifies that alhaitham's care is demonstrated in actions, and that a shift in communication is needed to properly show this. It’s here that alhaitham’s actions are the most explicit, and this leads to the major improvement in their relationship (which i explore more in detail here)

cyno's second story quest: thank you for chronic book gripper alhaitham reading his book when kaveh is out of the living room, and immediately putting it down when kaveh enters and begins telling alhaitham about his day, for alhaitham to encourage.

the animation that was so essential for the devs to include of alhaitham watching kaveh sketch when kaveh’s back was turned is such a comic example of yearning, it’s actually ridiculous

also alhaitham smiling when being asked to stay in the house of daena to work with kaveh??

alhaitham is one big yearner, he is that guy and he has no interest in beating the allegations!

the second part of this answer will explore kaveh's version of yearning!

[missingbat]

Some very strange AU with suffering, murder, depression, blood-- & A FLUFF, OF COURSE♡(>ᴗ•)♡(>ᴗ•)

And I came up with some random foolishness when I was poisoned and had a fever for three days. Please note that they may contradict each other because I am an inattentive person(ಡ‸ಡ)･ﾟ｡

Ichiji began to have the beginnings of emotions at the moment X, and since he is not a stupid boy, he realized that Judge was leading him by the nose, brainwashing and blah blah blah. Well, he didn't want to dance to someone else's tune, so he cosplays Sora — he swallowed the poison that she drank when she was pregnant, and that's the result. A crippled teenager runs from the assassins of Jerma, cursing the whole world and himself, as well as trying to find a cure so as not to end up like a mother.

In a fit of rage, he cut up his tattoo, and when he came to, he realized that he was now just a weak, pathetic person who was bleeding and who could die from such 'stuff'.

He was taken in once, and then he found out that the family that took him in had been killed by the assassins of the Judge.

Ichi, before meeting the Pirates of Spades, worked as a mercenary and informant who is constantly on the run and has no contact with anyone for a long time.

He says he doesn't have anyone and can't go back anywhere.

Because of the appearance of emotions, he is constantly under stress and endlessly replays in his head the crimes that he committed and could not influence, but still hates himself and blames himself.

Haphephobia is in a very advanced stage. Partly due to ignorance of the consequences after using poison, you never know what will happen to the surrounding people.

Out of habit, he holds back any emotions, and in principle behaves like an arrogant asshole.

The hump is literally loaded with various weapons. If you take it in your hands, you will get a loud metallic crackle of all that metal. But he walks noiselessly, lol.

Like the most normal and ordinary man, sleeps with a dagger in his arms. (Don't go near him, he'll throw a knife at you)

Severe cognitive imbalance when he looks at himself in the mirror.  Ace, like Luffy's real brother, will blurt out that Ichiji looks like Little Red Riding Hood when they first meet. Ichi will say that he must have been hit hard on the head as a child." (WTF? How did you know?!?)

"I'm not a good person, Ace. You don't know anything about me."

Periodically there are attacks of coughing with blood, but he, of course, does not say anything to anyone, does not explain, but snaps and says not to go where you are not asked to go.

One day Deuce is going to get all worked up about how it's really not right and normal for Ichi, that he should be chained up in bed, not running around with a stupid capitan and covering his ass. Ichiji will tell that Deuce is doing the same thing." And Vinsmoke is right, BUT Deuce DOESN'T DO THAT WHEN HIS ORGANS ARE MELTING(＃`Д´)-- (Ichiji persuaded Deuce to keep quiet, and Deuce decided to keep a low profile on this "I can handle it myself".)

Deuce vaguely resembles Niji(if you get stoned in the end and get your eyesight -10, but still-), so Ichiji feels some kind of softness towards him. he or she trusts him more than the others.

I'm still trying to figure out how tumblr works, even though I don't understand English at all and use a translator to understand what's going on (￣ ￣|||)

[rotthepoet]

Invisible String Theory (Anon!Slytherin Boy x Reader)

Chapter 4

warnings; NSFW, Stalking behavior, violence and self-inflicted injury(punching a wall), dumbification for like three sentences, some boys beef, reader has a panic attack, like kinda cliffhanger?

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

To Whom It May Concern,

Please leave me alone. 

Regards.

The folded letter sits on the mantle of the Slytherin common room fireplace. It taunts me. The soft, orange flicker casts long shadows over the room. Like a kid expecting Saint Nick, I wait. Patiently. Even as my eyes drift shut, exhaustion claiming my body, I prevail. Just a glimpse. Just a moment of eye contact. To know, to see, to end. A yawn racks through my body, and I stretch my arms above my head, my back popping.

Pinned.

A shrill shriek escapes me when a strong grip pins my wrists together above my head, and as soon as the scream leaves my lips, I’m released. Panic surges through my body, goosebumps plaguing my skin with a cold shiver, I stand suddenly and whip around to find–

Theodore.

It’s just Theo.

He has a sheepish look on his face, and he moves around the couch to gently lead me back to sitting, settling in beside me. He watches me lean back against the overstuffed cushions, releasing a deep sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry, I thought it was going to be funny.”

“No, no, it was. I’m just on edge,” I assured him, and shut my eyes, just for a moment.

Nott rests a hand on my knee, a friendly gesture, as he starts to rub small, comforting circles on the skin. “It isn’t helpful to stay up and wait for… It. Let’s get you in bed,” He whispers, and I shake my head.

“Just a bit longer, it’s the principle of the matter,” I explain, sighing and opening my eyes again. My eyes lazily scan the common room, abnormally empty, which makes me wonder about the time. Theodore sighs beside me and clicks his tongue. He shakes his head at me and suddenly, his arms wrap underneath my knees and around my back, and I yelp as I’m lifted off the couch. I wrap my arms around Theodore for the safety of my life, kicking my legs in protest.

“Let’s get you to bed–”

“Am I interupting?”

Nott and I’s head both snap towards the sound of a new voice, and a tall body stands in the shadows. Theo’s grip tightens on me, and I can’t help but squeak as his fingers dig into the soft skin of my thighs. The figure steps forward, his hands in his pockets, built like an athlete with wide, strong shoulders. Silver light passes through the Black Lake into our windows, casting an otherworldly glow across his face, and onyx eyes meet mine. 

“Riddle, you scared me,” I let out a shaky breath, slowly dropping my leg to the floor despite Theodore’s best effort to hold onto me. Speaking of which, he looks particularly upset. Maybe he doesn’t like being scared as much as he likes to scare people. “Anyone else planning on jumping out tonight? So far, I have two-for-two,” I try to laugh, but it falls silent as I notice the electric glare between the two. Another spat, I assumed, nothing surprising despite their tight-knit friendship. 

“You aren’t writing back to him, right?” Mattheo asks me, glancing at the envelope on the mantelpiece. Sheepishly, I look away and rub my goosebump covered arm. “It isn’t really writing back to him if I’m asking him to leave me alone–” “Asking?” “Telling. Telling him to leave me alone.”

Theodore scoffs and his hand finds the small of my back. “Let’s go, it’s too late for this,” He suggests, but with the way he gently leads me away from Riddle leaves no room for argument. I cast a glance over my shoulder and mouth a good night, not wanting to further upset whatever Theodore is brooding over. 

“You shouldn’t talk to him anymore,” Theodore mutters, leading me to my dorm room.

“What?” I ask, brows furrowing at his comment, “Look, whatever petty little fight you two are having will blow over,” 

“Not this time,”

“You say that every time, Theo!” I groan in exasperation, “You can’t just tell me who to hang out with just because you’re mad at them!”

Nott grunts in frustration and drops his arm from my back, stopping in his tracks. “Fine. Since, you want to be stupid-”

“Stupid?”

“Did I stutter?” He snaps, and my stomach churns suddenly at his tone, “Since you want to be so stupid, you can figure this all out on your own. No, actually. Go to Riddle. See how far that gets you.” He practically snarls at me, his once welcoming eyes now an angry rapid waiting to drown me beneath its waters. His gaze is suffocating. Angry.

“Fine,” I snap right back at him, but my voice is more confident than I feel, “He’ll be more helpful than you!” 

A sickening crack. That’s all I heard as Nott slams his fist against the stone wall, and a gasp leaves my lips in pure shock. Loose rock crumbles to the floor, skidding across the dungeon floor.

Theodore grips his first, his chest heaving with labored breaths, and blood drips from his balled fist to the floor. Before I can say anything, he turns on his heel and stalks away, leaving me alone outside my door.

Anxiety and anger seep into my stomach, and my brows knit with frustration. I push open my door, scanning my room, and my stomach drops when I find a bouquet of fresh red roses laying atop a heart shaped box of what could only be chocolates. I turn on my heel, but Theo’s name gets caught on my lips as I try to call for him, and suddenly, I feel very, very unwell.

Shit.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I sat next to Mattheo at breakfast out of spite. Maybe it’s petty, but as Mattheo rests his elbow comically against my shoulder, Theodore glares at us from across the table. Draco continues talking at Theodore, unaware of his complete lack of focus on the subject at hand. I make eye contact with him for a moment, just a moment, and it sends a cold chill down my spine.

My eye drifts down to Theo's wrapped fist and wrist, his fingers tapping rapidly on the wood of the table. His stormy eyes never leave me even as I turn my gaze away, Parkinson catching my attention with a call of my name. 

“You got mail,” Pansy hummed, passing out each morning parcel. My anxiety creeps back up my neck, and I swear I feel Theodore still staring at me as I carefully tear open a crisp envelope. My hands shake as I slowly pull the nauseatingly familiar paper out, now stained with a deep crimson, and I hold my breath as I open it.

~

To Whom It May Concern, My Darling Future Husband,

Please leave me alone. I’m so sorry for being an insufferable brat recently. I really miss you, and I love you.

Regards. Yours, even if I need my attitude fixed.

I want that written word for word in your next response, or I promise you won’t like what I do to you. This is your last warning.

Yours.

P.s. You aren’t thinking about taking this to the headmaster, are you? It wouldn’t work out for you, love. Don’t be stupid. I hate when you don’t use that clever little brain of yours. Although, I wonder what you would look like fucked dumb.

~

A sob catches in my throat and fear courses through my body. The letter itself reeks, metalic, copper. I curl over in place, feeling my heartbeat quicken exponentially as I wrap my arms around my own stomach. A wave of nausea washes over me like a tsunami, and tears fall from my eyes as they squeeze shut. 

The outside world drowns away, any commotion muffled into a distant buzz as my ears start to ring. I’m hyper aware of the hand placed on my back, and beyond the buzz I can almost make out the voices of the friends surrounding me. 

Hey.

My brain feels fuzzy, and it flickers from one worst case scenario to the other. Pins prick at my skin painfully, making tears fall harder from my eyes.

Hey. 

I try to steady my breathing, but I can’t help but gasp for air.

Hey.

Hey, Hey, Hey, Look at me, Look at me.

I don’t look though, I can’t look. My body feels too light as my thoughts drift away, and the last thing I feel is strong arms catching me as I fall over. 

[hangup119]

FEELS LIKE A THRILLER! ᯓᡣ𐭩

06. @SMUbruhmoments written chapter | 1.4k words

THE ONE THING you didn’t expect to encounter tonight at Giselle’s party is Park Wonbin, resident campus crush previously at SM High School and now at SM University, pathetically stuck inside the window leading to the common area like some damsel in distress.

So, naturally, you make yourself known as his knight in shining armor. 

“You need some help, princess?” you announce with a teasing lilt in your tone, watching the way the black-haired man immediately tenses up at the sound of your voice. 

“Oh, my God,” Wonbin groans, craning his neck to face you. “Just kill me now.” 

Sungchan peaks from inside, a wide grin immediately appearing on his face as soon as he sees you. “Oh, it’s Y/N!” he exclaims, waving his hand enthusiastically. “You got kicked out, too?” 

“No…” you say slowly, stepping closer after placing your empty red cup down on the grass. “I wanted to step out for some fresh air, but then I got locked out; no one told me the door automatically locks! Giselle has bougie doors.”  

“It’s to keep this guy out,” Sungchan explains while patting Wonbin’s head, only to be smacked in return. He hisses, but keeps tugging on his arms to bring him in. Unfortunately, Wonbin doesn’t budge at all, as the window is still too narrow to accommodate his body despite being slim. Even Giselle’s windows reject him. 

You push on his back, causing him to groan at the strain. You laugh, saying, “How’d you even think you’d fit in this? Idiot.” 

Wonbin kicks his leg up, and you yelp as he almost hits you. 

“Dude, what the hell?” you cry, keeping his leg down. Then, threatening to twist it, you add, “Fine, stay stuck in here for all I care.” 

Wonbin flips you off without looking back. Then he cries out when you flex his leg uncomfortably.

“... Is that Wonbin’s ass?” 

You gasp, turning around to find the last person you wanted to see standing behind you. Unfortunately for you, Hong freakin’ Seunghan just had to show up outside Giselle’s house with his phone out in his hand, the brightness level turned up to the max, and his gaze flickering between Wonbin’s backside to you gaping up at him wordlessly. 

“Um,” he starts off awkwardly. “… Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes!” You shrill at the same time Wonbin yells out, “No!” 

From the other side, Sungchan starts hollering. He stops when Sohee appears beside him, sipping from a red cup. 

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says. 

“You think I care about that right now?” Wonbin grits out. 

“You should,” Sohee simply says, taking another sip, “because Gigi’s coming.” 

Wonbin curses, wriggling himself only to no avail. He’s perpetually stuck half-way through Giselle’s window, and the rest of the student body will be seeing him like this and he’s gonna wake up the next day seeing pictures of him on the @SMUbruhmoments Instagram page with a lame caption or something. Sungchan would probably be the one to submit it. 

Ignoring the awkward tension between the gaping girl and Seunghan who definitely locked himself out just to play Pokemon Go, Wonbin turns to the both of them, hissing out: “Push me!” 

“What?” Seunghan asks. 

“Push me!” Wonbin repeats. “Just push me! Hurry!”

Seunghan looks back at you, then at Wonbin, before looking at his phone. “But…” he says, “I need to catch this—” 

“I don’t care about your stupid Pikachu! Just push me!” Wonbin all but practically yells. 

Seunghan pockets his phone with a sigh, coming over closer to you to get to Wonbin. “Excuse me,” he murmurs to you, and you back away with a too-quiet response he doesn’t bother figuring out. He pushes on Wonbin’s back while the latter claws on Giselle’s walls, also being aided by Sungchan at the front. 

As Seunghan continues pushing Wonbin from behind, all you could do was stare and gape at him. Although the principle of the situation seemed hilarious, the sound of Wonbin and Sungchan bickering alongside the loud boom of the music playing on the speakers pales in comparison to the sight of Seunghan using all of his strength to help his friend; his hoodie had been taken off due to the heat inside, and although he’s not excessively muscular like a bodybuilder, there’s some definition of it that appears on his biceps when he guides Wonbin’s leg in. He looks so focused, his dark eyebrows furrowed in utmost determination.

You could cry from how good he looks.

“Y/N, you’re staring,” Sungchan sings the moment Wonbin falls onto the floor, successfully getting in. 

Snapped out of your thoughts, you lie with an unnaturally high voice, “No, I’m not!” although Sungchan looks hardly convinced, considering he’s still giving you that teasing look.

“Thanks, you guys,” Wonbin breathes out in relief, patting Sunchan on the back and waving Seunghan goodbye. “I’m gonna go before Gigi sees me.” 

Then he leaves with Sohee, pushing past heaps of bodies within the common area until you no longer see them.

“You guys wanna come in?” Sungchan asks eventually, peeking his head out curiously.

You shake your head, responding, “Nah, I don’t wanna get stuck. Can you open the front door instead?” 

Sungchan pauses and looks at you silently, before turning his gaze towards Seunghan. Then, as if a light bulb has been lit up inside his small brain, he grins mischievously at you, saying, “Actually, I’m gonna go get a drink,” before shutting down the window on you. “Good luck!” 

Your mouth gapes again when you hear an audible click. He locked it.

“… What the hell!” You screech, knocking on the glass. “Sungchan!” 

No response. 

Seunghan shrugs, pulling out his phone. “Oh, well,” he says nonchalantly, looking at you. “Wanna go on a walk?” 

You look at him, incredulous. “That’s all you have to say?”

He shows you his screen, and on it you see a view of his Pokedex or whatever nerd shit he’s got going on with Pokemon Go, including the profile for some random Pokemon he had just caught within the three seconds you spent calling Sungchan who had definitely already left.

“I mean, you’re locked out, I’m locked out. I can’t just leave a girl alone at night,” Seunghan elaborates, “plus, this area has a lot of Pokemon, for some reason.” 

You feel a vein pop. Pokemon this, Pokemon that—Jaehyun was right, this is some bitchless behavior. And yet a part of you still finds this incredibly endearing somehow, like the way Seunghan just looks back at you expectantly while still holding up his phone to show you his stupid Pokedex at nine-something p.m. in the evening. 

“... Do you even know me?” you ask apprehensively. 

“Hm? Yeah, ‘course I do,” Seunghan casually responds, “Y/N, right? We had Calculus AB together in high school.” 

You blink. “Oh, okay.” 

“And we also had AP World, and APUSH, and I think AP Lit. Did we take AP Physics together? I don’t really remember…” 

Raising a hand towards him, you say, “Okay, you can stop now, I get it.” 

“You don’t have to go with me,” Seunghan says softly. “I don’t mind either way; I just don’t want you to be alone outside.” 

You look back at him, conflicted.

“Look, here,” he continues, quickly going through his contacts, “I can call someone else who isn’t Sungchan to open the door for you, is that—” 

You shake your head, boldly touching his hand. He pauses, looking back at you wordlessly as you say, “No, it’s okay. I’ll walk with you… dude.” 

You wince inwardly. Great. Just awesome. Here’s Hong Seunghan, your crush since your sophomore year of high school, and here’s you, already messing up your once-in-a-life-time opportunity to get closer to him by calling him “dude” like he’s one of your homies or whatever. Your budding relationship with each other will end before it even starts, as there’s no way he’s going to be willing to look at you in a romantic light when you’ve flat out bro-zoned him like the idiot you ar—

But Seunghan just smiles, his eyes forming crescent moons, and you watch, almost starstruck, when he says:“Alright. Whatever you want, Y/N.”

God, you wish fifteen-year-old you made a move on him before he went ahead and got himself a girlfriend. 

But it’s no use crying over spilled milk.

“... Let’s just go,” you murmur, already walking towards the paved sidewalk as you try to hide the rising heat on your cheeks. 

Seunghan catches up with you, messing up his hair before you turn to him. 

“So, what are you majoring—”

He cuts you off. “Holy shit! It’s a Snorlax! Wait, I have to catch this.” 

You look at him, incredulous. “Seriously?” 

previous | masterlist | next

SUMMARY. pining after hong seunghan has always felt like an unachievable reality; however, just a few months into your first year of college, it seems that the gods have finally listened to your prayers when news breaks out that your long-time crush is single once again.

AUTHOR'S NOTE. woo first written chapter! hoorah

TAGLIST. @shguacamole @miyawwn @starwonb1n @hwadejectedyoung @revehosh @alwayswook @snowyseungs @rksbae @emohoon

[kentobb]

⊹₊⟡⋆ The Bet ⊹₊⟡⋆

Ryomen Sukuna x Female Reader x Gojo Satoru

⊹₊⟡⋆Masterlist ⊹₊⟡⋆

Warnings: Suggestive content. +18

Chapter 04

Yuuji stood outside the library, squinting at the glowing neon sign above the entrance. The clock on his phone read 6:58 PM. He groaned, glancing around the nearly deserted campus. “Why am I even here?” he muttered. Most students were either partying or relaxing—not trudging into a library on a Friday night. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket and pushed open the heavy glass door.

Inside, the library was quiet, almost hauntingly so. The rows of shelves stretched into the dim corners, and only a few desk lamps glowed faintly. He wandered deeper in, looking for anyone who might resemble a tutor.

“Is this Sukuna’s idea of a joke?” Yuuji muttered under his breath.

But then he saw you.

You were tucked away in the farthest corner, sitting at a table near the shelves. Glasses perched on your nose, a sweater too big for your frame draped over your shoulders, and baggy jeans swallowed your legs. Your hair was tied into a messy bun, and you were scribbling into a notebook with a focus that suggested you’d rather be anywhere but here.

Yuuji hesitated.

She looks serious…this is definitely not a prank.

He approached cautiously, the sound of his sneakers on the polished floor breaking the silence.

You glanced up as his shadow fell over your table. And for a split second, your stomach sank. His pink hair, sharp jawline, and even his stance—everything about him screamed Sukuna. The resemblance was uncanny, except for one thing: his expression. Where Sukuna’s was always distant, cold, or annoyed, this boy looked… approachable. Warm. Even friendly.

“Uh, are you my tutor?” he asked, tilting his head.

You stood, offering your hand. “That depends. Are you Yuuji Itadori?”

He grinned, shaking your hand. “That’s me! You can just call me Yuuji, though. Thanks for helping me out.”

As he settled into the chair across from you, you adjusted your glasses and opened your notebook. “Alright, let’s get started. You’re here for Principles of Financial Management, right?”

Yuuji nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I really need help. Like…badly.”

You chuckled softly, and his grin widened.

For the next two hours, the library filled with the sound of flipping pages, pens scratching on paper, and your patient explanations.

“Okay,” you began, pointing to a chart in the textbook. “This is the cash flow statement. It’s basically a summary of how cash moves in and out of a company over a period of time.”

Yuuji squinted at the page. “So…it’s like tracking how much money I spend on snacks versus how much I make babysitting?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sure, if you’re running a business of snack consumption and babysitting profits. But yes, conceptually, that’s correct.”

He grinned. “See? I’m already learning!”

“Don’t get too confident yet,” you teased. “What’s the formula for free cash flow?”

Yuuji frowned, tapping his chin. “Uh…Revenue minus…expenses?”

“Close. Revenue minus operating expenses and capital expenditures. Write that down.”

He scribbled furiously in his notebook. “Got it. You’re really good at this, you know.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “At what?”

“Explaining stuff. Making it…not boring.”

You smiled, brushing off the compliment. “Thanks, Yuuji. Now, let’s move on to break-even analysis.”

By the time you glanced at the clock, it was past 9 PM. You closed the textbook with a soft thud and stretched your arms. “Alright, I think that’s enough for today.”

Yuuji leaned back in his chair, letting out a dramatic sigh. “You just saved my life. Seriously. I actually understand this stuff now!”

You smiled. “That’s the point of tutoring.”

He paused, then asked, “Do you have space for another session this week?”

You pulled out your agenda. “Let’s see…yes, I can fit you in on Thursday at the same time.”

“Perfect!” he said, watching as you wrote his name neatly in your planner.

As you packed up, Yuuji hesitated before speaking again. “Hey, are you going to Hakari’s party tonight?”

You shook your head. “No, that’s not really my thing.”

“Aw, come on,” he said, leaning forward. “It’s a Friday night! You should enjoy college a little.”

You laughed softly. “I enjoy it just fine without parties, thanks.”

“Think of it as a thank-you for helping me out,” he insisted, pulling out his phone. Before you could protest, he sent you the address.

“You really don’t have to do that,” you said, slightly flustered.

“Just think about it, okay?” he said with a grin as he stood. “Even if you just stop by for a little while, it’d be fun to see you there.”

You watched him walk away, his energy and cheerfulness lingering like a faint echo in the quiet library. Alone again, you sat back down, staring at your phone with the address he’d sent.

Should you go?

You sighed, placing your chin in your hands. For someone as outgoing as Yuuji, this party was probably the highlight of his week. For you, though? It was a step outside of your comfort zone.

When you enter your dorm, the space feels unusually quiet. Shoko isn’t there, her usual music or chatter missing, which only adds to the unease bubbling in your chest. You drop your bag on the bed and walk toward your desk, where a small mirror leans against the wall.

You sit down and open your modest makeup bag, staring at the contents for a moment. It’s been a while since you’ve done anything other than a little mascara, but tonight, curiosity wins. You pick out a soft lipstick, something subtle but noticeable, and carefully apply it.

Leaning back, you undo your messy bun, letting your hair tumble down in waves around your shoulders. For a moment, you study your reflection, unsure.

“Do I look okay for a party?” you whisper to yourself, smoothing down a stray strand of hair.

Then your eyes drop to your clothes: the oversized sweatshirt that swallows your frame and the baggy jeans that are more comfort than style. A familiar wave of self-consciousness hits.

You sigh, standing. This is ridiculous. You’re not a party person. What are you even thinking?

Just as you’re about to give up and call it a night, the door swings open. Shoko strides in, the click of her heels echoing on the floor. Her outfit is as bold as ever—short, sleek, and paired with smoky eye makeup that makes her look effortlessly cool.

“I forgot my purse and my cigarettes,” she says, scanning the room. She freezes when her eyes land on you, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. “Wait a minute… Lipstick? What’s going on here?”

You feel your face flush. “Nothing. I was just…thinking about going to the party.”

Shoko arches a brow, tossing her purse onto her bed. “Thinking? Girl, you’re either in or out. And judging by that sweatshirt, I’m guessing you’re about to chicken out.”

You fidget, glancing at your reflection again. “I don’t know, Shoko. I feel like I’ll be so out of place. I don’t even know what to wear to something like this.”

She crosses the room in two strides, studying you with a critical eye. Then she shakes her head dramatically. “Honey, this isn’t grandma’s tea party. That outfit? No.”

Before you can protest, Shoko dives into her closet with purpose. Hangers rattle and clothes fly until she emerges, triumphant, holding a tight, short black dress. She thrusts it toward you like a sacred artifact.

You blink at it, wide-eyed. “Shoko…that’s way too short.”

She laughs, a deep, throaty sound that fills the room. “That’s the point. Trust me. Just try it on. You’ve been hiding under all that fabric for too long.”

When you hesitate, she grabs a pair of sleek black heels from her closet and sets them beside the dress. “These too. Go on, the bathroom’s right there. I want a fashion show.”

Reluctantly, you take the dress and heels, muttering something about peer pressure as you shut the bathroom door.

When you finally step out, your heart pounds. The dress hugs your curves in all the right places, and the heels add just enough height to make you feel confident—but also a little exposed.

Shoko’s jaw actually drops. She blinks a few times, then grins like the Cheshire Cat. “Holy… Where have you been hiding that body? Damn, Y/N, if I looked like you, I’d be breaking hearts left and right.”

You tug at the hem of the dress nervously. “I feel…exposed.”

Shoko waves you off, pulling a lightweight cardigan from her closet and tossing it at you. “Here, for when you get cold. But don’t even think about putting it on until the party is over.”

You smile softly, holding the cardigan to your chest. “Thanks, Shoko.”

She smirks, grabbing her purse. “What are roommates for? Now come on, you’re sticking with me tonight. I’ll make sure you survive.”

You laugh, feeling a little of the tension ease. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.

Hakari’s parents’ house was a sprawling suburban mansion, the kind of place that screamed “old money” and had probably never seen this much chaos before. Tonight, it was packed to the brim with college students. The bass from the sound system reverberated through the walls, and every room was teeming with people. The living room had been converted into a makeshift dance floor, where bodies swayed and moved under the glow of string lights and a rotating disco ball that Hakari had apparently borrowed from somewhere.

The kitchen was a disaster zone—red solo cups piled high, bottles of vodka, tequila, and mixers scattered across the counters. Someone was attempting to make cocktails but clearly had no idea what they were doing, judging by the grimaces from those brave enough to drink them. The backyard was just as packed, with clusters of people gathered around the pool, some dipping their feet in, others reclining on lawn chairs with drinks in hand.

Hakari had bragged all week about how his parents were conveniently “away on business,” leaving him the house. Of course, they thought he was hosting a small study group. Judging by the dozens of cars parked haphazardly down the street, they were in for a rude awakening if a single neighbor decided to call the cops.

Sukuna stood near the wall in the living room, nursing his drink and watching the chaos with mild amusement. He wasn’t a big fan of these kinds of parties anymore—too predictable, too loud—but Hakari had insisted, and Sukuna figured there were worse ways to spend a Friday night. He leaned against the wall, one hand in his pocket, his sharp gaze scanning the room with the cool indifference of someone who always looked like he was above the noise.

Then he spotted Yuuji weaving through the crowd, his bright pink hair making him impossible to miss. Trailing behind him were his ever-present sidekicks, Nobara and Megumi. Yuuji’s usual energy was dialed up even higher tonight, his grin so wide it practically lit up the dimly lit room.

“Hey, Sukuna!” Yuuji called out, raising a hand in greeting as he finally reached his older brother.

Sukuna barely shifted, taking another sip from his red cup. “What?” he asked, his tone as sharp as ever.

Yuuji wasn’t deterred in the slightest. “Just wanted to say thanks for hooking me up with that tutor. She’s great—really knows her stuff.”

“Good,” Sukuna said flatly. “You actually learning something, or are you just wasting her time?”

Yuuji groaned, rolling his eyes. “I’m learning, alright? Jeez. Why are you always so dramatic?”

Before Sukuna could fire back, Yuuji added casually, “Oh, by the way, I invited her to the party.”

Sukuna froze mid-sip, his eyes narrowing as he slowly lowered his cup. “You did what?”

“I invited her,” Yuuji repeated, grinning. “Thought it’d be a nice way to thank her, you know? Plus, she works too hard. She deserves to have some fun.”

Sukuna barked out a laugh, the sound sharp and humorless. “She’s not coming.”

Yuuji frowned. “How do you know?”

“Because she’s a nerd who lives in the library,” Sukuna said, his tone dripping with condescension. “This isn’t her scene. Trust me.”

Yuuji was about to argue when a new voice cut in.

“Yo, Sukuna!”

Gojo appeared out of nowhere, grinning ear to ear, holding a drink that looked suspiciously like it had more ice than actual liquid. He clapped Sukuna on the back with enough force to make him scowl.

“What do you want, Gojo?” Sukuna asked, clearly annoyed.

“Have you seen Geto?” Gojo asked, ignoring Sukuna’s tone entirely.

“No,” Sukuna replied, rolling his eyes. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Gojo pouted dramatically. “You’ve really got to let this grudge go. It’s bad for your health, you know?”

Sukuna didn’t bother answering, taking another drink instead.

Meanwhile, Yuuji watched the exchange, grinning as he turned to Nobara and Megumi. “And you guys thought I had drama.”

The door opened wide, and Geto strolled in with his signature calm confidence, flanked by Shoko—whose outfit and energy screamed trouble—and…you.

Gojo, mid-laugh in a weak attempt to distract himself from his brewing nerves, froze. His grin slipped off his face like a melting snowman as his gaze landed on you. His heart skipped, then raced, and he quickly looked away, trying to play it cool. What were you doing here?

He had never seen you at a party before. Ever. This wasn’t your kind of scene—or so he thought. His mind raced. Were you dragged here by Shoko? Were you here because of someone? Was it him?

Gojo’s internal panic went unnoticed as he tried to inject himself into the conversation Yuuji was having with Sukuna, Nobara, and Megumi. His mouth moved, but his words were robotic, completely disconnected from his usual charm.

Meanwhile, Yuuji caught sight of you from across the room. His eyes widened in delight, and he immediately nudged Sukuna in the arm. “Told you she’d come! Man, I should’ve bet on it!”

Sukuna, who had been nursing his drink and half-listening to Yuuji, turned lazily in the direction his brother was pointing. And then he froze.

For a second, Sukuna genuinely thought his beer had been spiked. Was that…you?

It wasn’t like you looked unrecognizable. It was the same girl he’d seen in baggy jeans and oversized sweatshirts, usually with glasses sliding down your nose and a pen tucked behind your ear. But tonight? You were…different. The tight black dress hugged your body in ways Sukuna didn’t expect, and your legs seemed to go on forever under the dim, flashing lights.

The room felt like it shifted, the music blurring into static as Sukuna stood there, completely entranced. His usual sharp, cocky demeanor? Out the window. He didn’t even realize he was staring.

And he wasn’t the only one.

Gojo’s resolve to stay cool crumbled almost immediately. His eyes kept darting toward you despite his best efforts to focus elsewhere. Every time he caught sight of your dress, your hair, the way you looked slightly shy yet undeniably stunning, his face burned.

Across the room, Shoko—true to her energy—was having the time of her life, arm slung over your shoulder as she leaned in and whispered loudly enough for half the room to hear, “Everyone is staring at you!”

You winced, cheeks warming, and muttered back, “You don’t have to tell me. I can feel it.”

Shoko grinned devilishly, her confidence radiating. “That’s because you’re a total smoke show tonight, babe. Honestly, who knew all that was under those grandma sweaters?”

“Shoko!” you hissed, smacking her arm lightly.

She cackled, clearly enjoying your embarrassment, and leaned back to grab another drink from a passing tray. She started swaying to the music, trying to drag you into her rhythm. “Come on, let’s have fun!”

Meanwhile, Sukuna was still frozen. His eyes were glued to the way your dress hugged your curves, the way the lights hit your skin, the subtle confidence in your walk. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice Gojo beside him, sneaking glances at you with the same dumbstruck expression.

Gojo wandered through the chaotic maze of Hakari’s house, dodging bodies dancing to the thumping bass and narrowly avoiding a girl who nearly spilled her drink on him. His sharp eyes scanned every corner until he spotted Geto leaning casually against a wall in the living room, his arm resting above a girl’s shoulder, his tone smooth as silk.

“Of course he’s flirting,” Gojo muttered to himself, sighing. Still, he made a beeline for him, determination fueling his long strides.

Geto glanced up mid-flirt, spotting Gojo’s disheveled and slightly panicked face approaching. He smirked, clearly amused. “Ah, Satoru. See what I brought you?”

Gojo ignored the girl completely, leaning in to whisper-yell, “Why didn’t you tell me you were bringing her?”

Geto raised a brow, his smirk widening. “What?” he chuckled. “I did stupid.”

Gojo rolled his eyes. “No, you did not.”

“First of all,” Geto said, holding up a finger, “I didn’t know she was Shoko’s roommate until I went to pick her up. Second—” He raised another finger, his smirk growing smug. “I texted you. Millions of times.”

“Bullshit,” Gojo snapped, immediately pulling out his phone. His thumb scrolled furiously through his notifications, his face dropping when he saw an embarrassing number of unread messages from Geto. He groaned, cursing under his breath. “Damn it.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Geto teased, taking a sip from his drink. “You really need to stop putting the none disturb mode.”

Gojo shot him a glare but quickly pivoted back to the issue at hand. “Okay, fine, you texted. But you could’ve called. You know how important this is!”

“Call you while she was in the car?” Geto raised an amused brow. “Let her know that you have liked her since middle school too?”

��Shut up,” Gojo snapped, feeling the tips of his ears heat up.

The girl Geto had been flirting with cleared her throat, clearly annoyed at being ignored. Geto glanced at her apologetically. “Sorry, babe. Give me a sec.”

She rolled her eyes and walked off, muttering something under her breath.

Geto turned back to Gojo, entirely unfazed. “She’s probably still somewhere around the party, you know. Why don’t you, oh, I don’t know…go talk to her?”

Gojo groaned, running a hand through his white hair. “It’s not that easy. I can’t just—”

“Oh, please,” Geto interrupted, grinning mischievously. “You’re Satoru Gojo, the guy who can charm anyone with just a wink. Don’t tell me you’re scared?”

“I’m not scared,” Gojo hissed, though his shifting gaze said otherwise.

“Right. Sure.” Geto leaned in, his grin turning devilish. “You’re terrified. Look at you. Your hands are probably sweating.”

“They’re not!” Gojo exclaimed, holding his hands out defensively.

“Then why are you so anxious?” Geto countered, tilting his head. “Oh wait—don’t tell me…you’re scared she might actually like you back.”

Gojo groaned again, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, I’m right,” Geto replied smugly. “Listen, she’s here. She looks great. And if you don’t at least try to talk to her tonight, other than asking her for a book…you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life. Or at least until your next existential crisis.”

Gojo opened his mouth to retort but closed it again when he realized he had no comeback. He exhaled sharply, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“Fine,” he muttered.

“Atta boy.” Geto clapped him on the shoulder, his grin widening. “Now go sweep her off her feet, Romeo.”

Gojo rolled his eyes, but as he turned to walk away, Geto’s voice called after him, laced with teasing.

“And if you crash and burn, I’ll be right here to say ‘I told you so!’”

“Shut up, Suguru!” Gojo yelled over his shoulder, though the small smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his nerves.

The garden feels like a sanctuary compared to the chaos inside Hakari’s house. The muffled bass of the music and sporadic laughter barely touch this corner of the property. You sit stiffly on the stone bench, arms hugging your cardigan tight, watching the small lake ripple in the moonlight. The chill in the air bites, and you shift uncomfortably, wondering again why you came here.

From your spot, you can see Shoko by the patio, taking shot after shot, her cigarette glowing faintly in the dark as she laughs with a group of strangers. She’s magnetic, fearless, the complete opposite of how you feel in this moment.

The sound of gravel crunching underfoot pulls your attention, and you glance over your shoulder. Sukuna stands there, his tall figure silhouetted against the soft glow of the garden lights. He’s holding a red cup in his hand, his expression unreadable but calm.

Your breath catches, and you immediately look away, your cheeks burning as you focus intently on the lake.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he says, his deep voice breaking the quiet. There’s no teasing edge, just a quiet observation.

You sneak another glance at him as he approaches and sits down on the bench, not too close, but close enough for you to feel the weight of his presence. He leans back casually, his arm draped along the back of the bench, his red cup hanging loosely from his fingers.

“Yuuji told me he invited you,” he continues, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, “but I told him there was no way. Guess I was wrong.”

You give a nervous chuckle, still looking anywhere but at him. “I just… wanted to try something different, I guess.”

“And now you regret it,” he says, more a statement than a question.

You nod, your fingers gripping the edge of your cardigan. “This isn’t really my thing.”

He chuckles, a low, rich sound that feels surprisingly warm. “Already figured that much.”

You glance at him, surprised by the lack of mockery in his tone. He’s just watching you, his sharp eyes softened slightly, as though he’s trying to understand you.

“Parties aren’t for everyone,” he adds after a moment, swirling the drink in his cup absentmindedly.

“Do you like them?” you ask, the question slipping out before you can stop yourself.

His brow lifts slightly, as though he didn’t expect you to ask. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring out at the lake. “I used to,” he admits, his voice quieter now.

You tilt your head, studying his profile. There’s a hint of something deeper beneath his words, and it makes you ask, “And now?”

He turns his head, meeting your gaze, and for a moment, you feel like you’re under a microscope. His eyes are intense, searching, and it’s like he’s deciding whether to let you in. Finally, he exhales softly.

“Now, they’re just noise,” he says simply. “The same faces, the same meaningless conversations. I used to think they were fun. Freedom, I guess. But…” He trails off, shaking his head slightly.

You nod, your voice soft. “I guess it’s hard to enjoy something when it doesn’t mean the same thing anymore.”

He looks at you again, and this time, his gaze lingers. There’s something almost… gentle about it, like he’s surprised that you understand. “Yeah,” he murmurs.

The air between you feels heavy but not uncomfortable. It’s as if both of you are letting the conversation settle, the quiet of the garden wrapping around you.

“Have you had anything to drink?” he asks suddenly, breaking the silence.

You shake your head quickly. “No. I’ve never tried…alcohol before.”

His brow arches in genuine surprise. “Never?”

You shake your head again, your cheeks heating under his curious gaze. “Never…”

A small smirk tugs at his lips as he holds out his red cup. “Alright. Try this.”

You hesitate, staring at the cup as though it’s a loaded weapon. “What is it?”

“Vodka cranberry,” he says. “Not too strong. Sweet enough for a beginner.”

You hesitate, eyeing the drink with suspicion. “I don’t know…”

He chuckles, the sound soft but somehow coaxing. “Come on. One sip. It’s not gonna kill you.”

Reluctantly, you take the cup, bringing it to your lips. The liquid burns immediately, the sharpness overpowering whatever sweetness it’s supposed to have. You cough, your face contorting in disgust as you shove the cup back into his hand.

“That’s terrible,” you gasp, wiping your mouth.

Sukuna throws his head back with a laugh, the sound deep and genuine. It’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh like that, and despite yourself, you feel your lips twitch into a small smile.

“I should’ve warned you about the burn,” he says, still chuckling.

“You think?” you retort, your tone half-playful, half-annoyed.

He leans back again, his smirk lingering as he watches you recover. “Guess alcohol’s not for you.”

“Maybe not,” you mumble, still grimacing at the lingering taste.

The silence returns, but it’s softer now, more comfortable. You glance at him, catching him watching you, his expression unreadable but… softer than you expected.

In the distance, Mei Mei stands on the balcony, her sharp eyes locked on the two of you. Her fingers tap against the railing as jealousy flickers across her face.

Hakari’s arm slides around her waist, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her thigh. “What are you staring at?” he murmurs.

“Nothing,” she replies, though her gaze doesn’t waver.

Hakari leans in, brushing a kiss against her neck. “Come back inside. The party’s better when you’re in it.”

With one last glance at you and Sukuna, Mei Mei allows herself to be guided away, though her thoughts remain on the garden scene.

The moment feels strange as Sukuna, still leaning against the bench and lost in thought, suddenly notices Mahito and Jogo waving at him from across the garden. Their loud, obnoxious voices cut through the tranquility like nails on a chalkboard. Sukuna’s jaw tightens as he sighs, pulling himself up.

“I’ll be back,” he says, his voice low, as he glances at you.

You nod, your fingers tightening on your cardigan as you murmur, “Okay.”

Sukuna turns and heads toward his so-called friends, his expression immediately hardening. His patience is already thin, and the sight of Mahito’s wide, smug grin isn’t helping.

“Yo, Sukuna!” Mahito calls, throwing an arm around Sukuna’s shoulder like they’re old pals. “Who’s the hottie you’re sitting with?”

Sukuna stiffens, his brow furrowing. “Are you blind?” he snaps, shoving Mahito’s arm off him. “That’s Y/N.”

Mahito squints dramatically in your direction, then gasps, his expression exaggerated as always. “What?! That’s Y/N? The Y/N? The library nerd?”

Sukuna’s glare sharpens. “Yeah, and?”

Mahito whistles, nudging Jogo, who chuckles beside him. “Damn, she cleans up nice,” Mahito says, his tone turning sleazy. “She’s hot. Like, really hot. Who knew she had all that going on under those oversized sweaters?”

Jogo chimes in with a low laugh, adding, “Didn’t think she had it in her to show up here. Guess nerds can surprise you.”

“Shut up,” Sukuna growls, his voice low and dangerous. His fists clench, his irritation bubbling over in a way he doesn’t fully understand. “You two idiots have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Mahito smirks, leaning in closer to Sukuna like he’s sharing a secret. “Relax, man. If you’re not interested, I might just take a shot myself. Hell, I’d even do the bet—”

“Say one more thing,” Sukuna interrupts, his voice ice-cold as he steps closer to Mahito, towering over him. His crimson eyes burn with an intensity that makes even Mahito falter. “And I’ll shut you up permanently. Got it?”

Mahito raises his hands in mock surrender, though the smirk on his face remains. “Alright, alright, chill. No need to get all worked up.”

Sukuna’s glare shifts to Jogo, who’s still chuckling quietly. “And you—if you don’t want me to finish what I started earlier today, you’ll keep your mouth shut too.”

Jogo’s laughter dies instantly, and he looks away, muttering something under his breath.

Without another word, Sukuna turns and walks toward the drinks table, his jaw clenched and his mind racing. He grabs a bottle of something fruity he thinks you might like, pouring it into a fresh cup.

As he turns back toward the garden, his gaze catches someone moving through the crowd. It’s Gojo, his silver hair catching the dim party lights. Sukuna raises a hand, about to call out, but stops when he notices where Gojo is looking.

Gojo’s bright blue eyes are locked on you. His normally confident stride slows as he takes you in, and then, to Sukuna’s irritation, he starts walking toward you.

Sukuna’s grip on the cup tightens, his annoyance flaring into something more complicated. Was it irritation? Jealousy? Whatever it was, it was enough to make his blood boil.

He stays rooted for a moment, watching as Gojo closes the distance between himself and you. Sukuna’s lips curl into a scowl as he mutters under his breath, “What the hell is he doing?”

Gojo’s steps are slow as he maneuvers through the chaos of Hakari’s party. The pounding bass of the music, the loud laughter, and the constant chatter fade into the background as his sharp blue eyes focus on you sitting quietly on a bench near the lake.

He stops for a moment, watching you. The way the dim garden lights cast a soft glow on your face, how your cardigan is wrapped snugly around you, and the way you stare out at the water like the party doesn’t exist at all.

Gojo lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He knew you wouldn’t blend into the noise of a place like this. It wasn’t your scene. And yet, here you were, sitting alone, so out of place but somehow fitting perfectly into this serene corner of the night.

As his nerves start to creep in, he runs a hand through his hair and takes a step forward. Okay, Satoru, he thinks to himself. Just be cool. Be yourself—okay, maybe not entirely yourself.

He finally reaches you, standing a few feet away before clearing his throat. “Hey,” he says, his voice softer than usual, almost hesitant.

You look up at him, your expression briefly surprised, but then you give him a soft smile. “Hi,” you reply, your voice gentle.

Gojo shifts awkwardly, his usual confidence faltering. There’s a quiet moment as he debates whether to sit down or not. After a beat, he lowers himself onto the bench beside you, leaving just enough space to not make it awkward but close enough to feel the tension of his presence.

The silence between you stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, watching how your gaze remains fixed on the lake.

Finally, you break the stillness. “Did the book help?” you ask softly, turning to look at him. “For class, I mean.”

Gojo blinks, caught off guard for a moment, then smiles. “Oh, yeah,” he says, leaning back against the bench. “It helped a lot. No wonder it’s so hard to find—it’s a rare gem.”

Your lips curve into a small smile, and Gojo feels his chest tighten at the sight.

The conversation slows again, but this time, he feels the weight of the opportunity pressing on him. His palms are sweating, and for the first time in forever, he feels… nervous? Come on, Satoru, this is your shot.

“You know,” he starts, his voice uncharacteristically soft, “you look really pretty tonight.”

You blink, your cheeks instantly warming as you murmur, “Thank you.”

But Gojo doesn’t stop there. “Actually,” he continues, his tone playful yet sincere, “you’re even prettier when you’ve got that messy bun going. You know, the one you do with the pencil stuck in it.”

Your eyes widen slightly, and you let out a soft giggle. “How did you notice that?”

Gojo shrugs, flashing you a grin, though his gaze remains gentle. “How could I not? It’s kind of your signature look. Makes you… you.”

Your cheeks flush deeper as you glance away, trying to hide your smile. His words feel so genuine, so unlike the usual cocky, over-the-top persona he carries.

For a moment, neither of you speaks, but the atmosphere feels different now—warmer, softer. Gojo watches you, his heart pounding in a way he can’t explain.

“Thanks,” you finally say, your voice almost a whisper. “That’s… sweet of you.”

And for the first time that night, Gojo feels like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

Sukuna leans against the wall, his red cup tilted idly in his hand, his sharp eyes focused on the bench where you and Gojo sit. His face is unreadable, but the way his jaw clenches and his fingers tighten around the cup is enough to reveal his mood.

Beside him, Mahito and Jogo are huddled together, whispering like schoolchildren. Mahito nudges Jogo with his elbow, his lips curling into a sly grin. “Look at that, Sukuna,” Mahito teases, his tone sing-song. “Gojo’s making his move. Looks like your little librarian has a new admirer.”

Sukuna doesn’t even glance at Mahito, his gaze fixed on you and Gojo. Mahito, emboldened by Sukuna’s silence, continues, “You know, maybe you should just let it go. Call it quits, hand me the $100, and admit you’re not getting anywhere with her.”

Jogo immediately stiffens and shakes his head at Mahito, trying to signal him to stop. “Mahito,” he mutters under his breath, “you’re going to get yourself killed.”

Mahito waves him off. “Come on, Jogo, we’re all friends here,” he says mockingly. “Sukuna can handle a little truth.”

Sukuna’s eyes finally tear away from you and Gojo, and he glares at Mahito with such intensity that Mahito’s grin falters slightly. His voice drops into a low, dangerous growl. “Mahito, if you don’t shut up right now, I’ll make sure you leave this party with more than just a bruised ego.”

Jogo quickly steps in, grabbing Mahito’s arm. “Alright, Mahito, that’s enough,” he says nervously.

But Mahito, never one to know when to quit, opens his mouth to push further—only to be interrupted.

“Yo, Sukuna!” Hakari’s loud, cheerful voice cuts through the tension as he saunters over, a drink in one hand and Mei Mei trailing behind him.

Hakari grins broadly as he approaches. “How’s the party? Everyone having fun?”

Mahito, eager to change the subject, raises his cup. “It’s great! Perfect chaos, as always,” he replies, though his grin is still a bit uneasy.

Mei Mei steps closer, her sharp eyes briefly flicking toward Sukuna. Her movements are smooth, calculated, almost predatory, as though she’s trying to draw his attention. But Sukuna doesn’t even spare her a glance, his focus now on Hakari.

She tilts her head, her smirk faltering slightly. It’s clear she’s used to commanding attention, and Sukuna’s indifference irks her.

Hakari, oblivious to the tension or perhaps just unfazed, laughs loudly. “That’s what I like to hear!”

Suddenly there’s a loud crash, as if a vase had broken.

“Something just broke. I’m betting it was one of the glasses my mom keeps in the display cabinet.” Hakari explained unbothered.

Mahito snickers. “You’re not worried?”

Hakari waves dismissively. “Nah, I’ll just tell my parents a bird crashed into it or something. They’ll believe anything.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes, the annoyance in his expression growing. As Hakari rambles on about the potential excuses he could come up with, Sukuna’s gaze instinctively drifts back to the bench where you’re still sitting.

Gojo leans in slightly, his body language casual but attentive, his focus completely on you. Sukuna’s grip on his drink tightens again, and for a brief moment, he wonders why it’s bothering him so much.

Mahito notices Sukuna’s wandering attention and leans closer, whispering with a smirk, “Still thinking about that $100 bet?”

This time, Sukuna doesn’t answer. Instead, his lips curl into a faint smirk, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Shut up, Mahito,” he mutters, before downing the rest of his drink in one go.

[sleepymccoy]

Two thirds of a whole

“Your report indicated that you spent some time with the other Spock.”

“He was a strange man to meet,” McCoy muttered, sinking into a chair hesitantly.

“Tell me about him,” Spock invited, filling their glasses.

McCoy leant on the table and raised a hand. “Now, I don't want to sound egotistical, but the only change I know of was my not being on the Enterprise.”

“It is not egotistical to report your observations.”

McCoy smiled. “You might be wanting to take that back shortly, we'll see if I let you.”

Spock's gaze flashed to him. A strange expression passed his face, softer than most Spock let through when he was in control of himself, then he seemed to make a decision and looked at McCoy squarely. “Tell me,” he repeated.

“Well, he was lonely,” McCoy said simply. “He and their Jim weren't friendly. You- they weren't arguing or any sort, just not friendly. Jim was thinner too, more professional and detached. Broke my heart a bit. He did too.”

“He being the other Spock,” Spock clarified.

“Yeah.” McCoy pulled the water glass over and pressed it against his bourbon glass, feeling the grating tension of glass on glass in his fingers. “Didn't get along a lick with anyone on board. Didn't offer comments or defend his opinions beyond the bare minimum. He just worked, then went to his room and stayed there.”

“He sounds like a better Vulcan than I.”

McCoy glared at Spock. “You're the better man,” he shot back. Then, before Spock could disagree on principle, he continued. “He was sad, Spock, miserable and lonely! The way he latched onto me at the end there, you…” he sighed. “Ah, I dunno.”

Spock's eyebrow raise was enough of a response to keep McCoy talking.

“I don't know,” McCoy said carefully, “what he was getting out of me that no one else gives. I'd like to understand.”

“You are asking what benefit I find in knowing you?”

McCoy grit his teeth. “I suppose.” He drank. “You’re allowed to kick me out.”

Spock crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. “It is a simple enough answer,” he said. “You are the antithesis of Vulcan logic. You exemplify the most challenging type of human interaction I could have - that is, one whose argument is based in emotion and unmoving. But you explain yourself well, and have improved my comprehension of the convoluted decision making processes humans take.”

“Huh,” McCoy said. He drank.

“Additionally- ”

“There's more?”

Spock ignored him. “- you take time to point out when I am culturally insensitive. Many simply take offense, but you communicate it. Often, you communicate it excessively. Perhaps this other Spock lacked your early tutelage and suffered for it. Although, I must add, Vulcan intimacy is far more impersonal than human and perhaps he is pleased with his relationships on board. Knowing no other.”

“He kissed me like he was dying.”

Spock's hand lurched, knocking against his water glass. It didn't tip over, they had broad bases in case of turbulance, but it shook from the impact.

McCoy went quiet and drank his bourbon.

“Where did he kiss you?” Spock asked at a whisper.

McCoy looked at the table top. Real wood, Spock was more of a sensualist than he admitted. “On the mouth, Spock, how dirty d'you think I am?”

“I mean- so, he kissed you in the human way?”

Spock's hands were balled into tight fists. His eyes were wide, his cheeks green. He was quite still.

“Yeah, I hadn't considered that,” McCoy said, trying with all his might to sound unaffected and like they were discussing lab results. He remembered the feeling of Spock’s fingers in his mouth. “He was good at it too, wonder where he learnt it.”

Spock waved his hand absently. Those fingers… “Before I met you,” he muttered. “Wait. You allowed it to continue long enough to tell? Were you willing?”

“I was surprised at first, but, Spock, there’s something about you- ”

Spock stood, his chair scraping back loudly.

“God, don't hit me,” McCoy muttered, “you're really strong.”

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This fic is complete now! If you enjoyed the snippet you'll enjoy the rest of the shenanigans they get up to <3