#{ this will be added to as i make more verses / plot with others to make locked - }

[milfloveer]

Hello! Good morning, good afternoon, or good evening! I’d like to know if you accept fanfic suggestions. If so, I’d love to request a fanfic of Lilia Calderu x Female Reader, where the reader is drawing, and Lilia approaches to take a look and asks if she can see the drawing. However, while flipping through some pages, Lilia ends up finding several drawings of herself. It would be similar to that scene from Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, when Gwen picks up Miles’ sketchbook and sees several drawings of her. (I imagine Lilia’s reaction would be the cutest ever (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)).

Drawings of you

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

Prompt: (request)

Warnings: scars and history about them (reader has whip scars)

A/n: Hiiii!!! Thank you so much for the request!! Hope this is what you've asked for, please tell me what y'all think cause I think I've wandered a little 👉🏻👈🏻 Also I added some more plot hope it didn't ruin it tho.

As we finished the second trial, Alice's trial, and made sure Teen was alright we settled down and made a fire so we could rest for the night.

We sat by the fire and were currently sharing our battle scars, Lilia pointed out to her neck pulling her shirt aside making me shift on my seat "Check this out." we all reached a little closer to see better, my cheeks painted with a soft pink and then Jen asked what we were all thinking "What is that?" and Lilia, still showing it says "Vampire bite. Right before I knock out his other tooth." she says making all of us laugh.

Alice then turns to me "What about you, y/n? Do you have any battle scars?" she asks innocently, I couldn't hide my sudden face drop as my body tenses, my eyes fall to Rio cause she knows what my scars are about, her expression unreadable and then my eyes fall to Lilia's, her eyes curious about what I have to show and so I sigh "I do have them, yes. But they're really ugly and how I got them... Well, let's say it's not as funny as Lilia's." I say softly, preparing them to see my scars. I turn around, my back now facing them, and I lift my shirt, they gasp and an 'Oh gods' left Lilia's mouth.

When I turn around they all have a shocking and scared face, I look down at my intertwined hands as I could not bear their gazes directed at me "It all happened when I was in Salem, I was held captive by a powerful man... Not by power tho, but by money and other things, he was well known and respected by the people. So one day he found out I was a witch and how powerful I was, all because of a stupid mistake I've made." I said sighing in frustration memories of that haunting me "All those years he held me captive he made me do things for him, like cure people, read their fortune and if needed I would do some potions and cast some spells.... Curses even. If not or if I did it wrong he would whipp me over and over again until I had no skin left. It was that or burning in a stake." I tell as they all share a look "Dead almost caught me that time." I scoff taking a glance at Rio. Lilia shifts in her seat, her mouth opens to say something, but Agatha arrives and sits down next to Rio, so Lilia stays silent, but her eyes remain in my figure like she's trying to read me just like a book.

To take the tension out and to divert the attention from me I turn to Agatha "Agatha, do you have any battle scars?" I ask and she smirks pulling her sleeve up, Rio makes a snort knowing full well what she was going to show. Her scar is in the elbow "Knitting needle to the elbow." she says while showing it around as we all made a disgusted face "Ever heard of the daughters of liberty?" she asked and we all answered with 'no' while shaking our heads "Exactly." she says making all of us laugh.

And then, out of the blue, Rio says "I've got a scar." as Agatha quickly replies "No you don't." that makes me raise an eyebrow "Yes, I do." Rio reinforces taking a look at Agatha as she keeps explaining "A long time ago I loved someone. And I had to do something I did not wanna do... Even though it was my job. And it hurt them... She is my scar." she finishes and looks directly at Agatha, not even trying to hide who it was. Agatha then gets up saying she needs to stretch her legs and Rio follows her, leaving us four at the fire.

We all look at each other and shrug, I mean we all knew they had an history, it was clear as water, so we didn't bother. It's not like they're gonna tell us anyway.

I take a glance at the three witches "Y'all get some rest, I'll take the first watch." I tell them and they all nod, Jen and Alice got comfortable against the rock they were, Lilia did the same.

To pass time I conjured my sketchbook and pencil so I could draw something and by something I mean the elder wise witch sleeping a couple of feet in front of me. I couldn't take her out of my mind since the first day I saw her at Agatha's house, her curly hair, her curved nose, her soft looking lips, oh how I would love to kiss them, those dark irises I could drown in a matter of seconds, her angelic voice, the whole of her, I could not stop thinking about her and only her. And I couldn't stop drawing her since, my sketchbook was full of her images, profile, full body, different expressions, her hands, her necklace, I couldn't stop, I won't stop.

I now started to draw her sleeping figure, how her body was curled in as she lays on her side facing me, her hands next to her chest in a protective way. She was in a deep sleep as her now relaxed body only moved with her soft breathing. I lost myself in the lines drawing efficiently every detail of her, capturing her essence as she sleeps... But the pencil started to weigh too much and so did my eyelids, I didn't even realise when I fell asleep, sliding into a deep slumber myself.

The shaking of my body and a soft voice is what makes me aware of my sleeping state and so I jump awake "Whoa, calm down, darling, it's just me." Lilia whispers as the rest of the coven is still sleeping, I frown "What's wrong?" I ask confused, she smiles softly "Nothing, dear, I only wanted to put you in a more comfortable position as you were not looking rather comfortable in that one." she says chuckling lightly, she then looks next to me where my sketchbook fell and she reaches for it "Oh, No-" I say trying to stop her but she's quicker than me "I always wondered what you spend so much time drawing about." she says teasingly and opens the book "Oh-" she says as she flips through the pages.

My face turns red, red as a tomato, as a strawberry, as her lipstick "Lilia-" I breathe out, but she looks at me tenderly "These are amazing, darling. But why me?" she asks innocently and I am left with no words, mouth agape as staring embarrassed at her "Have you seen yourself?" I ask, my voice lower than a whisper. She chuckles and shakes her head "No need to be shy now, dear." and my only reaction is to hide my face behind my hands with embarrassment.

Lilia's soft hands grab mine and put them down, her face really close to mine "I really appreciate it." she says and I almost choke with the air on my throat as she leans in and gives me a tender kiss on my cheek. Well if I wasn't red before, now certainly I was, my heart was ready to jump out of my chest as my head was ready to explode "Now, try to rest, dear, I'll take the next watch." she says laughing softly as she backs up to her previous spot.

How am I gonna sleep after this?!

[tojiscumdumpster]

⠀ ⠀⠀ "unwanted" MATRIMONY

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀byakuya kuchiki.

✧ summary to preserve the existence of y/n's clan, she is forced to wed the twenty-eighth head of the kuchiki clan—byakuya kuchiki.

✧ content warnings reader is described as a black woman who uses she/her pronouns. clanhead!reader x captain!byakuya. bleach verse au (no manga spoilers) byakuya is a noble, so they'll both be speaking as such. lowkey giving royalty au vibes. told in first POV — reader's. tropes included: arranged marriage, childhood rivals to lovers. usage of c*nt, missionary position, fingering, nipple play, praise and breeding kink, primal play, terms of endearment — blossom, my love, etc. plot with smut, fluff, and a touch of angst if you squint hard enough. lengthy, but the build up is worth it and necessary!

✧ author's note i don't have much to say, but here's to adding more bleach men to my roster. i knew i wanted to write for byakuya because that's my baby daddy, and now i finally have this idea i hope you guys enjoy. support me by reblogging, liking, and commenting your thoughts. i would greatly appreciate it. ♡ MINORS AND BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS - DO NOT INTERACT.

 I must make my days do, lazing around in my private chambers as I am bound to a marriage I wanted no parts of. Especially not with Byakuya Kuchiki. 

 Lord Byakuya, as he prefers me to call him.

 Because I am the current and possibly the final head of the L /N Clan, I am forced to complete my duties as such. Those duties entailed me following through with my grandparents final wish: get married and keep our family name alive. 

 Which I have no issue with fulfilling. 

 My dreams are filled with having children with a man that loves me. To extend our family and grow old together where our souls will find each other in another life. 

 However, I hadn’t planned my marriage to be an arrangement that I wasn’t aware of because of an agreement our grandfathers had prior to me being born. 

 It’s shocking, honestly. More so, ludicrous for them to think this was okay. But I just couldn’t deny my grandfather. Not when his palm was in mine, lacking its warmth that’s usually there due to his near passing. 

 I remember tears staining my cheeks and a smile gracing his when he made his final request for me. 

 That was two years ago. Now, I am married. Have been for almost a year and every day I dread my decision. 

 How could I possibly wed a man as cold as Byakuya Kuchiki? We barely speak. We sleep in separate chambers. The most we see each other is during dinner because it would be ridiculous to have the servants prepare us food at different times. But even so, the silence and tension always remains deafening.

 And to make matters worse, we have yet to consummate our marriage. 

 This is something I cannot possibly do on my own. He may or may not be attracted to me, and I am convinced to assume the latter because he never utters a look in my direction. 

 It’s shameful how he treats me. The words he spoke to me the night of our ceremony is a constant memory I do my best to forget but cannot. 

 I’m officially married. Not the way I expected to be, but what other choice do I have? Grandfather has died and I made a promise to him to marry and bear children to keep the L /N Clan everlasting. Even if that meant being forced into marriage with my childhood rival. 

 As we sit side-by-side next to each other, bowing and thanking all of our guests for their blessings, I feel the coldness radiating off Byakuya. Of course, one of us has to be graceful and fake smiles while greeting everyone, so I am left to the task. 

 Byakuya? He doesn’t hide how dissatisfied he is with how this night is going. 

 To an extent, I understand. Forcing to wed after the loss of his wife, Hisana, is not ideal. Despite it being centuries since her soul has passed, I’m almost positive the heartbreak is still present. 

 Maybe tonight reminds him of her? 

 “Byakuya—what is the matter? Is everything alright?” I inquired. I turn to face him and await a response. 

 The squareness of his jawline catches my attention and I think how it was carved by the gods themselves. I’ve known Byakuya since we were both children, and seeing the fine man he has grown into today never ceases to amaze me. 

 His profile is… beautiful. I’m mesmerized by the softness of his pale complexion and how it contrasts with the darkness of his raven colored locks. 

 The further I stare at him, the more heat floods underneath my cheeks and my mouth watering at the sight of his beauty. 

 But when he finally speaks, all of the emotions I’ve felt have completely diminished. 

 “Do you feel no shame being forced into a marriage where your partner feels nothing for you?”

 Since then, I’ve kept my distance from him. I remember the pain that pinged my chest when processing the words that left his mouth. I remember rushing to my chambers after the ceremony and crying until it felt like a million shards of glass were piercing them. 

 Yes, I feel ashamed. But I never expected Byakuya to be so direct with me. He’s certainly not the young boy I remember growing up with. Where we would make everything into a competition. 

 Our swordsmanship. Our knowledge. Our abilities. Whatever can be turned into a challenge for us, Byakuya and I competed. 

 That led him to be a captain of the Gotei Thirteen and twenty-eighth head of the Kuchiki Clan. And me, the twenty-third head of my family. I initially wanted to enter the Shin’ō Academy along with Byakuya, but I chose to stay with my family and oversee our medicine and agriculture. 

 However, even when he entered the academy, he always made time to see me because we were friends before any juvenile competition we made. 

 So why can he not see his wrongdoings in our marriage? Could he at least try for the sake of me fulfilling my duties? 

 All that keeps me company are movements of the servants coming in and out of my chambers, along with the river that flows past my view. 

 As always, dinner is silent. 

 Byakuya has returned to the manor after attending his captain duties, and this is the only time of day where I see him. He is stripped from his formal wear and has been dressed in a simple dark blue yukata that has specks of cherry blossoms scattered across the garment. 

 If I didn’t loathe him so much, I could take my time appreciating how handsome he looks while being in the comfort of his manor. His locks are released from the kenseikan he wears that symbolizes his nobility as the head of the Kuchiki Clan. 

 I occasionally steal glances at him while he eats, and yes, while I do despise being in this forced marriage just as he does, I can’t help but be captivated by him.

 My lady parts wouldn’t allow me to deny the attraction. 

 As I watch my beloved husband, I think of all the sexual acts I would like for him to do to me. Please me in ways I could only imagine he can do. Make love to me and whisper in my ear how breathtaking I am.

 When I look at Byakuya, I think of all the times I’ve spent time with Lady Kyōraku and she tells me how madly in love she is with Captain Kyōraku. How well he treats her, and even with his demands in his new position, they spend much quality time together. 

 She even graced my ears with a few details about a picnic session they recently had where it led to activities that typically aren't done out in public.

 I wonder if my husband will ever be reckless enough to do an act as obscene as that. 

 Not likely. 

 I hate quiet, especially while we eat together. What is the purpose if no words will be spoken amongst each other? No eye contact. No going to bed together after we have finished. Why? 

 Why am I not able to be served dinner in my private chambers? Surely, I can make a request for this going forward. 

 Or… perhaps there is a different way for me to get him to speak. 

 I take a sip of my cremè sake before clearing my throat. “How did your day treat you, my lord?”

 “It was fine,” he responds, flatly. Should I be shocked that he didn’t lift his chin when speaking to me? 

 “There is something I would like to discuss with you.”

 “It can wait. I’m not up for discussion at the moment.” His dismissive tone has annoyance leaching onto my flesh, and I feel like I am on the verge of exploding.

 “Perhaps it cannot. I would like to discuss something with you, my husband.” The authority in my voice grabs his attention and finally, he looks up at me and catches my hardened gaze. 

 He deeply sighs, sitting down his bowl of rice and chopsticks. “What is it?”

 “Maybe we should… begin the process of annulment.”

 His face remains calm. Expressionless, like I always remembered. Does he care enough to show a reaction to me asking for a cancellation of our marriage? 

 This shouldn’t be a difficult decision for him, so why is he taking his time to respond? 

 The longer I wait, the more his lack of response bothers me. It’s not similar to before, where the quiet was filled by the sounds of us eating and the servants coming in to check on us.

 No, it’s the silence where if he does not speak, I will make the decision for him and walk out and permanently leave the manor.

 I think of all the conversations I’ve had with Lady Rukia, his younger sister. And Renji, his lieutenant, about how I should be patient with Byaykuya. That, eventually, he will come around and warm up to me being his wife. 

 But how long?

 How long would it take for us to share a chamber? For us to act like we’re in this agreement together? For him to look at me with the same attraction I have for him?

 How long? 

 It possibly couldn’t be more than a year. 

 This is not the Byakuya Kuchiki I grew up with. No, I wasn’t in his life those five years he was wedded to Hisana due to my own family issues. Maybe I could’ve been there for him and witnessed his change that caused him to be so apathetic. 

 However, this cold man that sits before me… I don’t know who he is.

 “Is there someone else you’re interested in?” He finally speaks, breaking me from my musings. 

 I draw my brows together, confused at his accusation. “Are you… insinuating that I am having an affair?”

 “We’ve been wedded for a year. No acts of intimacy have been done between us. Now suddenly you—”

 “Because of you!” My voice roars, interrupting whatever nonsense that he was about to spew. 

 I refuse to allow him to put the blame on me for the stillness in our marriage. I have tried, time after time, and all I am met with is a man that constantly rejects any type of advances I attempt to provide him.

 So, I continue. 

 “I have given you a year, Byakuya,” I begin, standing over him. He looks up at me and again, his expression remains undetectable. “The day of our ceremony, I have accepted that I will be your lady, and on that night, I was prepared for consummation. But what did you do instead? Humiliate me in front of all our guests with your trivial question!”

 My chest heaves an adrenaline I haven’t felt in a while. Maybe even never, however, leave it to Byakuya to rile me up this way. 

 “If you or anyone thinks I will bear children with a man that looks at me with utter disgust, then you all are sadly mistaken.” Are my last words to him before I rush out the supper room, tears threatening to fall, reminding me of the night we wedded. 

 I feel like such a fool. Disgrace descends upon me and my mind quickly goes to my grandfather and the words he spoke to me on his deathbed. Be strong, child, and fulfill your duties as the current head of the L /N Clan. Bear beautiful children with Young Byakuya and fall effortlessly in love. 

 Oh, grandfather. What am I to do? I can no longer stand to be in this marriage. Not like this. 

 Not with Byakuya. 

 By this time already, I had returned to my chambers and began preparing for bed. I allowed my emotions to get the best of me tonight, so some sleep will do me good. 

 But my suggestion of annulment will continue in the morning. 

 Just as I was moisturizing my body, a knock at the door interrupts my nightly routine and I immediately grow annoyed. 

 I know it isn’t one of the servants checking on me. They know when I don’t want to be bothered with. So that leaves the man that’s responsible for my current state of mind. 

 Ignore him, I say to myself. He’ll think I’m asleep and eventually leave. But no. He barges into my chambers, unannounced, and shuts the door behind him. 

 “Excuse me. I don’t recall giving you permission to en—”

 “Do you think this is easy for me?” He asks, paying no mind to my protests. “Being… married to you.”

 I turned my back to him and continued with the task I was doing before he interrupted. “Save me the boredom and keep it to yourself. No need to further remind—”

 “For a year… I have been… fighting these emotions. These… feelings that have been forming in my chest at the thought of you being my lady.” His admission shocks me… but I remain quiet and stare at him intently through my mirror and allow him to finish. “Do you wish to know how I feel about you, Lady Y/N?”

 My chest slowly heaves up and down and I hold eye contact with him. “How?” I breathed. 

 “You interfere with my routine. Daily… weekly… monthly. Just the thought of you has my mind spiraling.” He moves closer to me with every word he speaks. “A noble. A clan head such as myself, loses all sense of control with just a whiff of your scent. Your jasmine scent that drives me utterly insane. I simply cannot act with honor when I’m around you, so I purposely choose to ignore you.”

 “But… why?” I questioned. 

 “Because you are you, my lady. You may think I don’t keep my eyes on you, but I do. All day… every day. I… watch you sit by the river and simply smile at the sight of nature. From a distance, I hear how kind you are when you speak to others. It’s… enchanting.”

 I slowly release a breath and swallow a thick gulp. “So why is that you don’t speak to me? If I’m, as you stated, enchanting?”

 “Speaking is not what I wish to do with you when we are alone,” he admits. Arousal rushed between my legs at the true meaning of his statement. 

 “It is hard for me to believe that you have an attraction toward me, Lord Byakuya.” As if my words triggered him, he takes long strides to close the distance between us. 

 “Perhaps it’s because you do not look at me the way you look at others. I, too, should be questioning your attraction toward me.”

 I stand to meet with him, but fail miserably due his tall frame towering me. Still, I stand firm with my gaze. “Others such as who?”

 “Shūhei Hisagi,” he deadpans. 

 “You’re being ridicu—”

 “That smile… Your eyes… The look you give him… you have never looked at me that way before. He personally delivers the newsletter to our manor, which he doesn’t have to, but he does for you.”

 “Are you… jealous? Of the small interactions I have with Hisagi a few times throughout the week?”

 It is hard for me to believe that the honorable Byakuya Kuchiki himself is getting flared up over a platonic friendship between Hisagi and I. 

 Sure, there may be a chance he feels more for me than I know, judging by how his cheeks stain a light pink color when he delivers the newsletter. 

 But in no shape or form do I feel the same way, and I would never stoop as low as stepping out in my marriage. Even if my husband treats me like I am a fly on the wall. 

 Though, now, as he stands before me, slightly flustered, nostrils flaring, and a pinched expression—Byakuya is in fact—jealous. 

 I do not know how to feel about this, but I do know it is better than the distance I was getting before. 

 “Does this,” he grabs my hand to slip between us so I can feel his hardened erection, causing me to suck in a breath, “feel like I hold no attraction to you?”

 “Byakuya,” I barely said above a hushed tone. 

 He presses his forward against mine, whispering, “Everyday… I curse myself for these feelings I have for you, to the point where I attempt to avoid you yet fail horribly because I can’t help but watch you from afar.” His hand gently runs up and down my arm, and this bit of contact burns warmth to my flesh. 

 “I feel wrong. Felt, wrong for having such feelings for you, knowing my late Hisana has passed away. I thought my heart went along with her illness, however, you returned to my life unexpectedly.”

 I lick my lips before asking, “Are you saying you… love me, my lord?”

 “I desire you, my lady. Crave you in ways that make me want to act animalistic.” His lips ghost over mine before he falls to my neck and inhales heavily. “I’ve always wanted to know what it is like to have you on my tongue. To hear you beg for me to give you more than what I am giving.”

 “My lord… please.” 

 He shushes me. “Your beauty is beyond words. I have… never seen a rich, deep, golden brown complexion such as yours. You hold yourself with grace, but I know you’re a minx underneath these silk garments.”

 He begins trailing faint kisses along my flesh until meeting with my face once more. I stare at him and take advantage of his ash-colored hues that resemble the sky on a cloudy day. 

 I don’t recall ever being this close in proximity to Byakuya. I’m enthralled by the smoothness of his skin and the color of his lips that reminds me of a thousand cherry blossoms. 

 I want to kiss him. I, too, also want to know what it feels like to have the taste of him on my tongue. Just—

 “May I kiss you, Y/N?” The octave of his voice, slightly lower than usual, breathy with a touch of desperation… it does something to my core. 

 His cheeks flush red and my eyes widen at the sight of him. It feels like this is a fantasy, a moment I thought I would only see in my dreams. He is completely vulnerable, stipped down to where he forgets the formalities and calls my name. He is like this for me because of me. 

 When he is like this–I do not loathe him.

 “You may.”

 Byakuya gently presses his mouth against mine, our lips merely touching as if he is skeptical about what he is doing. He pulls back to look at me and I know desperation is shown on my face. And I know he feels the same.

 How he engulfs my arm with his hand, applying immense pressure to show his desire for me tells me so. 

 My breaths are staggered. I’m thinking, what will he do next? Will he turn around and return to his chambers, regretting this moment ever happened? No. He does not. 

 He caresses my nose with his, breathing me in before meeting with my lips once more. 

 This time, he cuffs my face and deepens our kiss. My hands latched  onto his wrist to hold him in place because I will not allow him to show any skepticism once again. 

 Byakuya takes his time exploring my mouth, but a touch of eagerness is shown when his tongue slips inside of me to get more. Heat hums throughout my body and I feel wetness pooling between my thighs due to the lack of under garments I am not wearing. 

 Is this what it feels like to kiss him? Is it normal for my limbs to grow weak? As if he read my thoughts, he sweeps me off the ground and wraps my legs around his waist. Our heads move side-to-side in unison while we devour each other’s grunts and moans. 

 We head in the direction to my futon and ever so lightly, he lays me down and pulls away from me. 

 “Strip for me.” His order is soft but filled with dominance I can’t be anything but submissive to. 

 I untie my silk robe, slowly until it falls off my shoulders and bares my body. His eyes… where I know Byakuya to be calm and collective during battle, right now a beast rages through him, and I am his prey that he is ready to feast on. 

 My legs spread, revealing my sex that is moist beyond measure. A growl forms in the pit of Byakuya’s stomach and it spreads chills down my spine.

 He palms my breasts while gazing at me and I shudder from his touch. I could believe that this is in fact a dream, but it is not. 

 No longer than a second later, and he pinches my nipple between his fingers. 

 “My lord,” I softly cried, arching my back. 

 “You are art, Y/N.”

 “Address me as your lady,” I demanded. 

 “Apologies, Lady Y/N.” He leans forward to press a quick kiss to my lips. “Is there anything else you would like for me to do?”

 “Strip for me as well,” I instructed, teasingly. 

 His yukata drapes low on his hips and I am met with his slender build. Squared shoulders. A trimmed waist. And an abdomen where I would enjoy rubbing my wetness along that leads to what will bring me pleasure tonight. 

 He stands to completely remove his garments and my mouth floods at the sight of him. His groin, hard and veiny, drips liquid that I’m yearning to taste. 

 Byakuya, as expected, is well trimmed, but leaves just enough hair, perfect to my liking. 

 He’s much larger than I imagined. A size I need time adjusting to, that’s for certain. 

 “Am I up to your liking?” He quips. 

 I hum, tugging my bottom lip between my teeth. “Perhaps.”

 The smallest chuckle, almost faint, escapes his mouth. “Perhaps…” He mocks, catching onto the lie that I uttered. 

  He kneels down before me and sucks my lower lip into his mouth while he widens my legs even further to bring pleasure to my cunt. Those slender fingers, so long and delicate, slip inside of me and I mewl at the slight intrusion. He massages my walls as if he is exploring, attempting to familiarize himself with how I pulsate around his fingers. 

 I break our kiss to moan his name, and my lord takes advantage of the opening to plunge his tongue in the back of my throat and sink deeper into my cunt. 

 I never expected Byakuya to be well equipped with his fingers this way. Those same fingers that are used for battle are currently being used to bring me to my release. 

 Soon, his lips find the valley of my breasts where he leaves bruises on my flesh with teeth. I whimper so pathetically, shocking myself at the sound that leaks from me. 

 He sucks on my nipples greedily, like a starved man that’s hungry for his lover, and this time, I let out a moan of his name. 

 “Byakuya…”

 He looks at me through his lashes and firmly grips my breast. “Remember, my lady. Address me as your lord.”

 “I am sorry, my lord. Please… I can no longer wait. I want to come.”

 “Where is that fire that was present earlier? Begging?” I clench around his fingers at the sound of him taunting me. 

 He flickers his digits quicker inside of me, pulling such obscene noises from my cunt that mingles with my moans and his praises in my chambers. 

 Byakuya, this time, does not kiss me. No, instead, he ogles me and gently holds my chin in place where I am forced to watch him deliver me a release I’ve been waiting a year for. 

 There was a time where I thought he didn’t have an ounce of attraction to me, and now here he is, pleasing me in a way I haven’t been before. 

 “Oh, Lord Byakuya… I… I’m about to come. I feel a release coming,” I purred. 

  “But I have barely touched you, blossom.”

 I latched onto his wrist and rolled my hips to meet his fingers thrusting inside of my cunt. “I—I know. I’ve been waiting for this… for so long.”

 “You’ve fantasized about me bringing you pleasure?” I nod, causing a small smirk to form on his lips. “Tell me more, Lady Y/N. What else do you want? Would you like my shaft inside your tight cunt?”

 “Yes.”

 “Tell you how breathtaking you look while being filled with me?”

 “Oh, yes. Yes, Lord Byakuya.”  

 The faintest, most gentle kiss is placed on the side of my mouth and I feel the tension at the bottom of my stomach unraveling.

 “Are you prepared to bear my children? To have my come flooding your cunt until it drips out?” He ghosts over my ear. “Will you take me?”

 “Bya… kuya…” My orgasm suddenly crept onto me and I’ve created a mess on his hand. 

 I throw my head back and moan to the gods above. I can’t stop shaking and he continues to pump his fingers inside of me. 

 For a year I thought this man loathed me, but tonight I am proved otherwise. 

 Lord Byakuya has described himself as a madman when he is around me, and it is shown when he doesn’t permit me the time to come down from my release before guiding his cock to my entrance. 

 I look between us, anticipating the moment he enters my body and wondering how I will take him. 

 He attempts to push himself inside, but is met with interference and clicks his tongue. Frustrated at the constriction of my cunt because his cock is aching to feel my walls. 

 “I see she is as stubborn as you are,” he taunts. 

 I slyly smirk at him. “Giving up—Ohh…”

 Byakuya does not allow me to finish my retort before giving me one long thrust between my folds to completely stuff me. My brows knits together at the slight intrusion and hint of pain that’s mended by my wetness. 

 I’m… stretched. How could he fit? He’s so… big. Large. I feel his veins pleasurably grazing me when he slowly begins to pull in and out. My cunt molds around his cock like he’s all she knows and I gasp with every movement. 

 My thighs are pushed back so he could see all of me, to see how I’m swallowing him whole. He swears underneath his breath and seeing Byakuya so vulnerable like this has me pulsating. 

 “You… are amazing, my lady. This cunt of yours… It's perfect,” he declares. “For a year you have been keeping this from me?”

 “More, my lord. Give me a bit more.”

 “So desperate for my come, are you?”

 I eagerly nod and grip his forearms to take his pounding. He wastes no time acquiescing to my request, increasing his thrusts to pull such lewd noises from me.

  I’m almost embarrassed by the loudness of my dripping sex. I’m practically making a mess on my futon and I’m mortified that the servants will need to replace my sheets. 

 Again, his mouth and hands are back on my breast, sucking and circling my nipples until they ache. Byakuya alternates between the two to show equal amounts of love and I have never felt so overwhelmed.

 He drives into me with so much passion while marking me with his teeth and alleviating the pain with his tongue. 

 “When I breed you, you will be completely mine, my love. You will be full of me, carrying my child,” he rasps, rutting into me with more force. “How many will you give me?”

 I gasped. “As many as you want, Lord Byakuya. Just please… make me come again. I feel it approaching.”

 “So come for me, blossom.”

 His thrusts are harsher than before. The head of his cock repeatedly presses my sweet spot and I feel the spark of electricity tingling in my lower back. My breasts are still occupied by his mouth, but they move obnoxiously with the rhythm of his poundings. 

 I cry his name, scream to my lord how wonderful this feels and tears prick the corner of my eyes. His free hand that was on my breast moves to thumb my clit to aid with my near release. 

 Byakuya moans soon joins mine to tell me how my cunt squeezes his cock, nearly strangling. And if it were to lose circulation, I would be the cause. But does he not feel how he throbs inside of me? 

 How he hopes to breed me so we will be bound for life? 

 “You asked me earlier… if I love you. Would you still like to know?”

 “Yes, Byakuya. Tell me… do you?”

 “I do,” he simply answers. “Since the day I saw you staring at the river and smiling at the water flowing. How could I not love you?” He brushes his lips across mine and lowers his voice. “How could I not love you after having you like this? Having your beautiful body, every dip and curve bare underneath me?”

 “Lord Byakuya… I’m coming.”

 “And you sound beautiful when my name drips from your lips. Continue calling me your lord until I have filled you with my come.”

 Over and over, he rocks into me at a frenzied pace, causing my orgasm to burst out of me. Tears stain my cheeks and arousal prickles my flesh from my overwhelming release. However, Byakuya does not let up until his thrusts are uncoordinated, indicating his own climax.

 Coming together as lovers for the first time after our ceremony has me seeing stars in my chambers. His load… it’s heavy. Hot and sticky. It mingles with my own come and creates a mess between us.

 Lord Byakuya, too, is a vocal lover. He comes down from his own release and whispers how ethereal I am. How he would never grow tired of pleasing me and filling my cunt. 

 But it’s the delicacy of him brushing my coils away from my face and placing soft kisses on my cheeks that causes my heart to skip a beat. 

 An hour has already passed, and we have been basking in each other’s presence. His embrace is comforting. It provides me with a warmth that was well needed to fill the coldness beside me when I slept alone at night for the past year. 

 “I’m sorry,” he says, breaking the silence. 

 I know the reason for his apology, but ask anyway. “For what, my lord?”

 “For the discomfort I have provided you since our engagement. You didn’t deserve that… Before anything, you were a dear childhood companion of mine and I treated you horribly.”

 His kind words move me. I place my palm against his cheek and look up at him. “We can discuss it some more later on. For now, I would like to enjoy your company. Is that okay?”

 He kisses the top of my head and pulls me further into his arms. “Of course, my lady… Of course.”

thank you for reading. reblogs, comments, and likes are well appreciated. if you enjoy my work, please be sure to check our my masterlist for more. ෆ

[theconstantsidekick]

Thunderbolts* ft. Static (3) | b.b

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings), Natasha Romanoff x Stark!Reader (flirtationship)

Genre: pining? is that a genre?

Summary: Y/N gets a call she can’t refuse — and surprise, it leads her right to where her dear husband, Congressman Barnes, is running a mission in Utah. A little less romantic getaway, a little more threats of violence.

(These scenes incorporate y/n, codenamed—Static, into the pre-existing story as a character without making drastic changes to the plot or mythos. All the major plot points from the MCU remain in place with the addition of the reader as Static, who is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Whatever events from the canon aren’t mentioned, take place without much change.)

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THUNDERBOLTS*, Cursing

a/n: TIME SKIP BABYYY also, @astraealupinblack thanks for beta-ing this. ly.

Thunderbolts* ft. Static (2) | Thunderbolts* ft. Static (4) | Series Masterlist | Static: Get, Set, Glitch | Captain America: The Winter Soldier (ft. Static) | Static Verse Masterlist

“We were just trying to get home, alive actually,” she hears Yelena say. 

Y/n can easily gauge that Yelena is at the end of the hall, from somewhere inside the room.

“That’s even more pathetic,” Bucky responds, his voice trailing off.

She doesn’t need to look to know he’s walked toward the huge windows on the other end of the room. She can hear the retreat in his voice. She can feel the distance. 

She could tune in more. Could lean in and do the thing she’s been trained to do—eavesdrop on the conversation, gather intel, listen for weaknesses, decipher tone, use it all like currency. But she doesn’t.

Not out of courtesy. Please.

It’s just… it’s complicated.

With Bucky—everything’s complicated now.

She walks quietly through the hallway of the half-dead garage, sidestepping collapsed shelves, a busted tire jack, and a trail of cigarette butts that no one’s owned up to—which she will be adding to shortly, she’s sure. The air smells like burnt rubber and the kind of damp you can’t clean out.

She steps into the main room, pausing just inside what used to be a doorway—now just a fractured frame where drywall dreams go to die. Her shoulder meets the wall, casual, like she belongs there. Like she hasn’t rehearsed this fifty-seven times and overthought exactly how she’s gonna play this.

“I see you got your mission, Congressman.” 

Bucky jolts so hard he nearly punches the window.

She stifles a smirk. How is he still not used to her?

“What...” He blinks, scrambling. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

She smiles. “That any way to greet your wife?”

“Are you spying on me?”

Rolling her eyes, “Like I have nothing better to do?”

“Then that brings me back to my original question: what the fuck are you doing here?”

She pushes off the wall and steps into the center of the room. The place looks like it was once used to service cars—or kill people. Hard to say, really. Now it’s just a bunker with no warmth, all cement and shadows.

At the heart of it is the pit—a literal drop in the floor that now functions as a holding cell. Bucky’s version of hospitality.

Across it, her husband’s captives are arranged in two halves like a dysfunctional debate team: Yelena and Walker on one side.

Ava and… Yelena and Natasha’s dad on the other.

She knows who he is, of course. Big guy. Loud voice. Soviet dad jokes. His name’s just… gone. Floating somewhere behind three years of classified codenames and one hell of a breakup.

“She called me,” Y/n says just as Yelena chimes in, “I called her.”

“Why would you call her?” Big Soviet Dad glares at Yelena like she’s just committed a war crime. “You don’t call your father, but you call her?” He motions to Y/n with bound hands. “The traitor?”

Y/n pulls a face.

Traitor? 

Is she missing something here?

“Can you fly?” Yelena asks, deadpan, like it’s the most natural redirect in the world. There is barely any time to react before she adds, “Bob can fly—she can fly.”

“You can fly?” Ava snaps her gaze over, eyes wide behind—what must be—the power dampener cuffs clamped around her wrists.

“She can fly,” Bucky answers before she can.

“I can levitate,” Y/n corrects. Precision matters.

“Really?” Walker adds, sounding more intrigued than skeptical. “How?”

They all look so genuinely interested, it’d be rude not to answer.

“I can create small portals under my feet,” she says, raising a boot and conjuring one—a glowing circle, pink and ridiculous and very much hers. “And then I can just… walk on air, I guess.”

She takes a casual step upward, lets the portal flicker under her sole, then blinks it out again.

“That is the same as flying,” Yelena chides, tone flat, as if Y/n has just said something outrageously dumb.

Y/n shakes her head. “Nope,” she says. “Flying’s more efficient.”

“You can teleport from one place to other. That is cool and efficient. Flying is stupid. Why do you want to be stupid?” Yelena and Natasha’s dad says, with such unwavering conviction in his eyes, she actually falters.

She shifts her weight, one foot to the other. “…I know I’m gonna sound profoundly stupid when I say this, but—I never thought of it that way… so… thanks?”

“You are welcome, traitorous viper.”

Her face contorts. Pure confusion.

Where the fuck, she thinks, is this hostility even coming from?

But honestly, Y/n doesn’t have the bandwidth to figure it out. Not today. “Okay… sure. Whatever,” she mutters, walking deeper into the room, still vaguely baffled. “Come on, Yelena. We’re leaving.”

It’s almost comforting, how predictably fast her husband moves.

Bucky intercepts her before she can reach Yelena’s cuffs, blocking her path with that same ex-soldier precision that used to give her butterflies. 

Now it just gives her a headache.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

She straightens, chin lifting. “Getting her out of here.”

“You can’t,” Bucky says, calm but firm.

That makes her tilt her head. Slowly. Dangerously. “Is that so?”

He sighs. The kind of sigh that says you’re being unreasonable again—like she hasn’t made a career out of walking that line on purpose. “I need this,” he says. “It’s evidence against Valentina.”

And that shouldn't piss her off as much as it does.

But it does.

“She, as in my client, will be happy to testify against Valentina,” Y/n snaps, “if you can get her full immunity.”

Bucky laughs.

Not a real laugh. Not the kind she used to love.

It’s short and mocking, laced with disbelief, like she just told him the moon’s a hologram. 

“She was part of a shadow ops unit assembled specifically to erase evidence in an ongoing Senate investigation. Full immunity isn’t even in the same zip code.”

Y/n smiles then. Cold. Razor-edged. “The Winter Soldier was found guilty of twelve assassinations,” she says, voice dangerously casual. “Including the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. And I got you a fucking pardon.” 

That quiets the room.

Every eye is on her now.

She jerks her chin toward Yelena, who’s straining to watch the fireworks from her seat. “She was following orders,” Y/n continues, “from the Director of the CIA. You bet your perfect little ass I can get her full fucking immunity.”

“You’re getting cocky, don’t you think?” Bucky’s voice is low, but there's heat underneath it now.

She steps closer. That mocking smile still frozen in place. “No. You are.” She jabs a finger toward Yelena. “I am taking her.”

“I cannot let you do that.”

“You can’t stop me. What are you gonna do?” she spits. “Arrest her?”

“Yes.”

She snorts, a burst of disbelief escaping her. “You can’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

She shakes her head slowly, mouth curled into something venomous and victorious. “Because you’re a fucking Congressman, dear.”

The word lands like a slap.

And then it’s quiet.

They just stare at each other.

The kind of stare that lasts too long. That holds too much.

He doesn’t flinch.

Neither does she.

There’s no yelling. No weapons.

Just years of history compressed into a single, unbearable silence.

She can see his jaw tick. The slight twitch in his left hand. The way his chest rises just a little faster.

He’s not going to back down.

But neither is she.

And for one sharp, suspended moment, it feels like the world might actually crack under the weight of whatever the hell still exists between them.

It’s weird, she thinks. It’s fucking weird to have to fight with this man over this—to fight with him over anything at all… other than doing the dishes. It seems like it was yesterday that he’d stare other people down like this, for her. 

God! How much can things change in nine months?

“Is it just me, or has the tension risen remarkably in the last three minutes?” Yelena chimes in, bone-dry.

“No,” Walker says. “I feel it too.”

“Yes, yes, I agree,” the Big Soviet Dad adds, far too chipper for a man in restraints. “Very tensed.”

“And I cannot tell if it’s violent or sexual,” Ava muses aloud, genuinely perplexed.

Bucky clicks his tongue then—just once. And a small, sad smirk curves his lips. The kind Y/n hates. The kind that used to mean trouble, or flirting, or both.

“There was a time it wouldn’t matter,” he says quietly.

Motherfucker.

It slices through her. A scalpel of a sentence, said too lightly, meant too deeply.

She doesn’t get a second to recover. No chance to armor up. Because Walker, in his infinite, all-American brilliance, decides to blurt:

“You two broke up.”

And just like that, it happens.

Her eyes lock with Bucky’s across the room.

She hates how fast it happens. How automatic. Like muscle memory.

And for a second—just one suspended, impossible second—the world narrows.

She sees all of it. Every piece of the wreckage.

The late-night fights. The mornings where neither of them spoke. The mission she didn’t tell him about. The thing he didn’t say when it really, really mattered.

The distance. The silence.

The refusal to admit that love had never stopped being there, even when it got ugly.

His eyes are darker now. Tired. Like he hasn’t slept properly in weeks.

She wonders if she still looks the same to him. Or if he only sees the parts that hurt.

God, she used to know what he was thinking. Used to be able to read the tiniest shift in his face like a headline. Now it’s like trying to decipher a language she used to speak fluently—but forgot.

She feels her throat tighten, stupidly. Embarrassingly.

But she doesn't look away.

And neither does he.

They just stare, caught in whatever’s left between them—whatever hasn’t been burned to ash. And there’s a lot of ash.

“What are you talking about?” the big Soviet dad blurts out, accent thick—especially on the t’s, like he’s trying to punch them through the drywall. “Of course they didn’t break up! They are everywhere! I saw pictures in the newspaper—from gala last night. They looked perfect. As always.” 

There’s a hint of annoyance in the last word—like the compliment physically injured him—but Y/n lets it slide. She’s too busy watching her husband’s face. Trying to read it. Trying and failing.

“They’re the superhero it-couple,” Ava says, nodding. “I read somewhere that Oprah wants to come out of retirement to interview them.”

“This is crazy—even for you, Walker,” Yelena mutters. “Bucky and Y/n would never break up.”

And isn’t that funny? How absolutely no one believes it. Not because they’re so in sync. But because no one ever imagined them not in orbit around each other—even if the orbit was violent.

“You won’t believe me when I say it, but I wish I was wrong…” Walker says, voice lower now. “But I’m not. Am I?”

The question is aimed squarely at them.

Someone’s gotta answer.

Y/n clenches her jaw so tight it’s a miracle her molars don’t crack. “If you were right—and that’s a big if—how the fuck would you even clock it?”

Walker just looks at her. And it’s not smug. Not triumphant.

It’s sad. 

There’s this horrible broken look in his eyes when he answers. “From personal experience.”

Oh.

Fuck.

Of course.

His wife left him. Took the kid. The house. The future.

Of course he would be the first one to see it. Not that she and Bucky were being subtle—she knows that. But most people just chalk up their animosity to regular old Y/n-brand bickering. The same bickering she’s famous for, loved for. Loud, messy, affectionate chaos.

But Walker? That asshole would recognize heartbreak.

Because he lives in it.

And then there’s the part where he’s partially responsible for it. That just makes her want to punch through the nearest wall.

She doesn’t say anything.

She doesn’t need to.

Because then—like he’s been waiting for the perfect time to twist the knife—Walker asks:

“Why?”

Almost like he can hear her spiraling.

Her hands curl into fists. Her lungs are tight. It enrages her—awfully—that he would even ask.

But before she can speak, Bucky cuts in. “You fucking know why, John.”

She sees it—clear as day—the way Bucky’s answer throws Walker off. Knocks something loose behind his eyes. And Y/n knows, right then and there, that she can’t do this anymore.

Not right now.

Not one more question about them. Not from Walker. Not from anyone.

The next one might break her, and she’s not breaking in this fucking garage surrounded by handcuffed vigilantes and her ex, who she pretends to still be together with to maintain his approval rating as a Congressman.

So she pushes past Bucky—shoulder brushing his as she moves. It's firm, not aggressive, but definitely not gentle either. Deliberate.

Her boots echo over the concrete floor as she crosses to the pit. Kneeling beside Yelena, hands halfway raised toward the cuffs, she mutters— “Come on, Yelena. We’re getting out of here.”

But Yelena doesn’t move. “I’m not coming with you,” she says flatly.

Y/n freezes, halfway crouched, a breath caught in her throat. “…What?”

“I didn’t call you to get me out of this,” Yelena replies, voice calm, arms resting loosely on her knees.

Y/n rises slightly from her crouch, weight shifting to the balls of her feet. “Then what the fuck am I doing here?”

Yelena looks up at her, unfazed. “I called you to help out with Bob.”

Y/n blinks.

“Who the fuck is Bob?”

She sighs—loudly, dramatically—the kind of sigh that makes it clear she’s two seconds away from breaking something. It's the sigh of someone who’s clearly being forced to explain the same thing for the second time. Maybe it is the second time. Y/n wouldn’t know.

Fuck.

She should’ve eavesdropped.

Complicated emotions with Bucky be damned—this is exactly the kind of intel she’s supposed to catch. But no, she’d chosen dignity. Privacy. Emotional boundaries.

Rookie mistake.

“He was with us inside the vault,” Yelena says, her tone flat like she’s been over this already.

Y/n narrows her eyes. Her pulse skips.

She does not like where this is going.

“Wait,” she says slowly, standing straighter, “you mean the guy from last night? The one who shot into the sky, crash-landed like a goddamn asteroid, and casually created the second Grand Canyon in the middle of Utah without a single fucking scratch on him?”

“You know about that already?” Walker asks, brow furrowed.

“Of course she knows,” Bucky says before she can even open her mouth. There’s no sarcasm in it. No bite. Just fact.

It lands with the kind of weight only familiarity can carry.

The kind of sentence that says: She always knows.

“Yeah,” Yelena confirms, nodding toward the ground like she’s mentally reviewing disaster reports. “That is Bob.”

Y/n blinks once. Then twice.

Nope. Still doesn’t like it.

“Valentina did something to him.”

Y/n holds up a hand, eyes shut tight for half a second, like she’s bracing for impact. “Please don’t say it.”

Yelena does not give to fucks. “It’s called Project Sentry.”

“You said it.” Y/n groans, rubbing her temple like she can massage the coming ulcer out of existence. “Goddamn it.”

“You know about that too?” Walker asks, visibly struggling to catch up.

Y/n straightens fully, frustration crackling in her every movement. “About Valentina’s delusional wet dream of having a pet superhero? Yeah, of course I know about it!”

“How?” Walker’s voice sharpens—his confusion bordering on accusatory now.

Y/n barely has time to formulate the insult in her head before Bucky answers for her again. “Because it’s her fucking job to know.”

She doesn’t thank him. She doesn’t look at him. She just lets that one ride—because yeah, it is her job. And she’s so fucking tired of doing it.

But Walker—dumb, bulldozing Walker—keeps going.

“Then why didn’t you stop her?” He says it like he’s caught her red-handed. Like she wanted this to happen.

And if that isn’t the funniest thing she’s heard in weeks.

She laughs. Short, bitter, and loud. Whirls on him with venom in her voice and fire in her eyes. “You shittin’ me, Walker?” Slowly she takes account of the room before she begins, “Everyone in this room exists because someone wanted to build a better weapon. Some country, some organisation, some genius-in-a-garage thought: wouldn’t it be neat if we could make a superhero?” She starts pacing. Slowly. Her boots scuff the concrete, her fists tight at her sides like she’s wringing the answer out of herself just to stay standing. “We’re hot fucking commodity, man—more precise than a drone, less of a PR disaster than a nuke.” Her smile turns razor-sharp, practically carved into her face. She pivots mid-step, pointing to herself with mock drama. “We’d be the primary defense infrastructure of every country on this godforsaken planet if we were just a little cheaper to make.” 

A beat. 

“And a lotta bit easier to control.”

She lets out a sharp, humorless snort. It's almost a laugh, but not quite. “Everyone and their mother is making a superhero, Walker. So tell me—how the fuck am I supposed to stop them? Better yet, who the fuck am I to do it?”

There’s silence.

Tension.

And then Walker sits up as much as the rope and rebar will allow, straightening his spine like he’s about to deliver some grand truth. “You’re the last of the Avengers.”

Y/n turns toward him slowly. There’s no fury in her face now. Just quiet disbelief.

You gotta hand it to the guy—he’s got fight. And the raw, stupid courage to say it.

What a shame he’s so fucking stupid.

“That’s some real spicy bullshit,” she says, voice low and cutting. “Sam is the last of the Avengers—I was their lawyer.”

Walker opens his mouth again, and she already knows she’s not going to like what comes out. “You’re Steve Rogers’ ex-girlfriend. You’re Tony Stark’s sister. You’re fucking legacy.”

And that word—it hits different.

It’s supposed to mean something.

But for people like her, it never means what they want it to mean.

She drops to a crouch in front of him, slow and deliberate, so they’re eye to eye. So he can feel her words rattle in his bones. 

She stares at him hard. Doesn’t blink.

“The only legacy the likes of us get to have,” she says, voice like gravel and goddamn scripture, “is death, Johnny boy.” She leans in, just a fraction. Just enough to make sure it burns. “Don’t fool yourself into thinking otherwise.”

And then—of course—the phone rings.

It’s Bucky’s.

He wordlessly turns and walks toward the far corner, back to the broken window he always gravitates to when he needs space he won't get. He answers it like it's routine.

“Yes?”

Yelena immediately starts bickering with her father.

Y/n tunes it out.

Bucky’s tone shifts—quieter. “What is it?”

Y/n—now done surgically dismantling Walker’s soul—rises to her feet, brushing invisible dust off her jeans just for something to do. Her knees ache. Her heart aches more.

She glances around. Walker looks worn down. Ava looks unsure. Honestly? Y/n is pretty sure she looks worse than both of them. All this—this room—it’s a mess of ghosts and grudges. Her husband. Her best friend’s baby sister. Her best friend’s complicated dad. The two people who have fucked her over the most in the last year without really meaning to. Y/nual Tuesday.

“Project Sentry?” Bucky asks into the phone, eyes flicking up to meet hers. It’s a glance. That’s all. But it’s a habit from when they were together. A habit that Bucky hasn’t given up—almost as if he’s refused to give it up.

Yelena shushes her father instantly, spine straightening at the mention.

Every head in the room swivels toward Bucky.

“What guy?” he asks the caller, and Y/n watches his face as it drops into full 'you’ve got to be fucking kidding me' mode.

“Bob?” he says, with the exact same level of disdain one reserves for finding out their date thinks the earth is flat.

Y/n has to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from laughing.

“Bob!” the four captives shout in unison, victorious. Vindicated.

And that does make her laugh. Just a quick, exasperated sound that escapes before she can smother it.

On the other end of the line—Y/n doesn’t need to guess—it’s Mel. Valentina’s very tired assistant. Whatever she says, it makes Bucky go still.

He’s quiet. Listening.

And then his face changes. Just barely. The edges go sharp, eyes narrowing—focused, serious, and that thing she recognizes like the back of her hand.

Then he hangs up.

He stares at his phone for a second too long before tucking it away. Everyone in the room’s watching him now. Like they’re waiting for a verdict.

And he gives it, deadpan:

“Bob.”

“Bob,” they all repeat, like it’s a prayer or a punchline.

“How many times…?” Big Soviet Dad chides under his breath.

Then Bucky looks at her.

And there it is again—that look. Not a glare. Not a plea. Just… searching. He’s looking for something in her face that she doesn’t know how to give him anymore. That hurts. And not in a poetic, aching-heart way. It hurts in a bone-deep, I-might-explode-if-you-don’t-stop-looking-at-me-like-that way.

“It’s bad, Bucky,” Yelena says quietly.

Y/n sees it then—the decision building behind his eyes. Weighing options, calculating risk, doing the responsible adult thing for all of five seconds—before hurling that entire thought process straight into the nearest dumpster fire.

He begins uncuffing his captives, one by one.

He takes the chains off of Yelena and Natash’s dad first then walks over to Ava and starts undoing her power-dampening cuffs.

“What are you doing?” Ava asks, more curious than alarmed.

“I’m letting you go,” he says simply. “You’re coming with me.”

“Why?” Ava presses, as he walks over to Walker.

“Shhh!” Big Soviet Dad interrupts. “For the glory…” he adds gravely with poorly hidden excitement.

Y/n rolls her eyes so hard it’s a miracle she doesn’t dislocate something.

“Well,” Bucky says, yanking the rebar off of Walker’s wrists with a grunt. “You know Valentina. She’s got this thing out there.” He moves to Yelena and begins untying her rope. “People are gonna get hurt. And I gotta stop it.” He straightens near the window again, that old posture—the soldier, the leader—settling into his shoulders like armor. “And you’re gonna help me.”

There’s a pause.

“Wait, us?” Yelena asks, rubbing her wrists, visibly caught off-guard.

“Why? You got someplace to be?” Bucky replies without missing a beat.

There’s a silence. Not long, but long enough. Y/n watches it land across Yelena’s face—a flicker of hesitation, of doubt, of maybe wanting to run.

She knows that look.

She’s worn that look.

“Bucky, you have the wrong people,” Yelena finally says.

He meets her eyes, and for the first time since he walked into this place, he speaks from somewhere deep. For the first time since this conversation began, Bucky is honest. “Look, I’ve been where you are,” he begins, empathy clear in his words, his eyes, his tone. “You can run but it doesn’t go away. Sooner or later it catches up to you—and when it does, it’s too late… So you can either do something about it now… or live with it forever…”

The words hang in the air.

Y/n watches them land—in Yelena’s chest, in Walker’s shoulders, in Ava’s careful, clinical stillness and Big Soviet Dad’s eyes that look desperately to his daughter.

Yelena exhales. Loudly. Her head drops for a second. When she looks up, her face has changed. 

Set. Solid. Tired.

“Stop Val and save Bob,” she says. Then she turns to Walker.

He looks just as tired as her. “Fine.”

“Hmm?” she asks again, chin raised.

“Yeah,” he says, even less firm than before. Worn down, but still in the fight.

They turn to Ava, expectant.

She nods after a brief pause. Slow, thoughtful. “Go on then.”

And then they turn to Yelena and Natasha’s dad who just—”YESSSSSSSS!!!! YESSSSS” 

Y/n has got to say Big Soviet Da—RED GUARDIAN! That’s his fucking name! Red fucking Guardian! Alexie Shostakov! That was his goddamn name! She said it would come to her, didn’t she?!

In the excitement of having figured it out, she clicks her fingers grabbing everyone’s attention immediately.

Then they’re all staring at her.

“What?” She asks, a little scared.

“What do you think?” Yelena bites back.

“Stop Val and save Bob?”

“Yes,” Yelena answers, like she’s unbelievably annoyed.

“No,” Y/n tells her.

Her response seems to piss Yelena off. “Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“NO!”

“Why not?” comes Bucky’s voice, soft and gentle.

It makes her turn, on instinct, on habit—perhaps similar to his, one she doesn’t want to get rid of. It’s this same reluctance that perhaps is what enrages her more. “You know why not!”

He sighs with his eyes so, so kind. “Y/n…”

His tone is too sweet, too fucking sweet. 

She’s glad for the interruption from Yelena. “You have to help.”

“No, I don’t,” she bites back.

“Yes, you do!”

“No, I—”

Yelena cuts her off. “You are the most powerful person I know, and you promised.”

“Yelena…”

“You promised.”

Now, everyone knows Y/n is a mountain that isn’t the easiest to move. She’s more stubborn than a mule, so much so that she once got into a screaming match with the former Captain America over freedom and government. 

So yes, she’s stubborn. Very stubborn.

“Fine,” Y/n acquiesce.

She gives in. 

“What?” Bucky yells out, clearly surprised by the surrender. “Just like that? A stern look and some puppy dog eyes and suddenly you’re on board?”

“Yes,” Y/n says, battle lost.

“WHY?!” Bucky shouts.

She sighs, before she says, “Because her sister told me I was her legacy and then obviously died. Which means I gotta take care of it—which means I gotta take care of her!” She throws her hands up in defeat, “Okay?” Everyone looks at her as if she’s losing her mind. And she might as well be. 

Look, what you have got to understand, what no one might ever understand—not unless they have experienced loss—is that when someone you love dies, you’re left with all this love. You’re left on the side of the street in the pouring rain, with this massive pile of love in your arms and you don’t know where to fucking put it. It doesn’t fit in your closet. It doesn’t look good next to the bookshelves and the bedside table is sure as shit not big enough to house it. You cannot put it up in the attic—because come on! You want to be able to look at it. Of course, you do! 

So then the question becomes:

Where the fuck are you supposed to put it?

Like it or not, it spills.

Try as you might to hold it tight to your chest, to manage it, to fold it into something quieter—it slips through. It gets on things. On people.

It always spills over.

And in this particular case, the love Y/n had—has—for Natasha Romanoff has spilled all over Yelena Belova. It just has. It wasn’t a mistake—she would not call it a mistake. It was almost inevitable. 

Yelena’s so very different from Natasha in so many ways, in almost every single way but there’s this thing in her eyes. Y/n thinks it’s probably the crazy kind of drive that both sisters shared. But it could, just as easily, be kind determination. 

Either way, there’s something. Something that tugs at her, that hurts, because it reminds Y/n too much of what she lost. What she’s still holding. And that’s why she can’t walk away.

Which is the reason why she now has to protect Natasha’s legacy and by proxy, she has to protect Yelena.

The group of captives begin to get to their feet, as her inner monologue continues to let her spiral.

“So yeah! I will help you stop Val and save Bob, but in the interest of full disclosure? I am not the most powerful person you know.” She reaches out and helps Yelena up.

“Yes, you are!” Yelena looks beyond frustrated. “This is not the time to be humble.”

“I am not being humble,” Y/n points out. “I used to be the most powerful person you knew… Now it’s Bob.”

Read the next part here. Read the part where Natasha calls y/n her legacy here. Find the Static Verse Masterlist here.

next one will give a bit more context to the time skip situation, i swear

@mirandastuckinthe80s @rattyfishrock @jeyramarie @yourbane @yikesdrama

[petit-etoile]

Oh oh I have an AU I haven't had the chance to write anything for. It's pre-vampirism magistrate Astarion and criminal tav who is incredibly well-versed in law. They keep committing crimes and getting caught in purpose just to see Astarion who fucking hates their guts because he can't ever convict them of anything bc they find loopholes and somehow manage to evade the law. It's an "at each other's throats" kinda romance and they kiss with teeth between cases

darling,  if  you  love  me  say  it  back

pairing  .  ⊱   astarion x tav wordcount  .  ⊱   3,604 content warnings  .  ⊱  canon compliant temporary character death,  tav isn't a human but can be whatever else you like,  astarion isn't a vampire yet,   tav is gender neutral other tags  .  ⊱   canon compliant,  canon temporary character death,  introspection,  p.orn without plot,  oral s/ex,  desk s.ex,  inappropriate use of a cravat,  c.reampie archiveofourown  .  ⊱   here.

taglist  .  ⊱  @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia,  @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness, @queenofcarrotflowers-s, @kirahlene be added  .  ⊱   here .

summary  .  ⊱   The Magistrate Judge Astarion Ancunin has a soft spot for you. You like to exploit that fact.

‘I need to see you in my office,’ Astarion hisses  —  and the tips of his ears are so red you think they might catch flame. He grabs you by the elbow roughly and tugs. ‘Now.’

‘Let’s do it, baby,’ you say smugly. ‘I know the law.’

Knowing the law might be an overstatement. You have studied the law for only one purpose, and that purpose you know like the back of your hand. So when Astarion presses you, you don’t argue. You do as the magistrate says and allow yourself to be dragged across the court. He admonishes you like one would get onto a dog who misbehaves. You can’t help but laugh.

It isn’t like Astarion isn’t a super serious magistrate with a focus on criminal prosecution. He wants to nail you for your sins, for your crimes. The only catch is that no matter how amazing Astarion is at his job, you’re simply better. If you’ve stolen something, you’re more than capable of hiding the evidence. If you’ve murdered someone, you know all the best ways to hide a body. It comes naturally.

Astarion is wearing that ever familiar frown as he marches through the elegant halls. It’s a frown that says you’re in trouble and there’s nothing that I can do. But that isn’t necessarily true. Astarion will do anything you ask so long as you ask nicely, and you’ve been getting good at asking nicely lately. He prides himself in training you even if it isn’t that simple. He calls it rehabilitation. You call it sex.

‘You can’t keep doing this, you know,’ Astarion snaps at you. ‘At some point you must give it up!’

He isn’t good at whispering when he’s riled up. He runs his free hand through his curls in anger, pushing them away from his face like his bangs being wild make it hard to think. It makes him more attractive.

‘You don’t mean that,’ you say with a shrug.

‘I do,’ he says, ‘very much mean that.’

You grin. ‘You would miss me,’ you tell him lasciviously, and he groans. ‘I know you would.’

He huffs. ‘The only thing that I would miss is the peace after the headache you’ve given me. It’s as though you aren’t even aware of how vexing you are.’

You laugh, and the fine line of Astarion’s temper snaps. He all but throws you in his office and locks it behind him. He’s annoyed with the way you stagger dramatically to one of the velvet couches before his desk. You lean over the arm and kick your feet up.

‘Does the idea of cuffs around my wrists excite you?’

You look over your shoulder. Astarion clenches his jaw. It must hurt to frown as hard as he is. You pull yourself onto the cushions and sit demurely. You study him. His rigid lines, tense gaze. He comes and sits on the edge of his desk, pressing his forehead into his hands as if that will relieve him of his headache. You’re determined to make it worse.

‘I apologize,’ you say sweetly. ‘I’ll behave from now on.’

‘We both know that you are not capable of behaving,’ Astarion says thinly.

He shouldn’t have said that. You can’t help yourself, but most of the time, Astarion makes it so easy for you to dig into his weaknesses and exploit them. You stare at him with wide, innocent eyes.

‘You should teach me,’ you suggest.

Astarion’s patience snaps. ‘I beg your pardon? Have some decorum, please!’

‘Having decorum is so boring,’ you say, pouting. ‘Life is much more fun when you live freely.’

‘And committing crimes is your definition of living freely?’

‘What is the point of living if not to live?’ you ask. ‘Why confine myself to rules of good or bad when I can choose what makes me happy.’

‘What exactly makes a criminal like you happy?’ Astarion asks bitterly.

You’ve always been possessed by a sense of otherness. You rise from the couch and carefully twist your fingers in his cravat, tangling yourself in him as he has become entangled in you. The Silverymoon lace tickles your skin. You pull Astarion closer and he begrudgingly caves to your strength. Your lips barely brush against his and already you can sense it. The barely contained restraint. The hunger. Astarion longs for you. He’s carefully hidden it beneath the scent of bergamot.

Slowly, you slide him free of what pressures him most. The cravat slides from his neck easily. It excites Astarion. His eyes glitter like you’ve never seen before. Being a magistrate isn’t about caring about the laws he’s vowed to uphold. It’s about power. You give it to him. You hold your wrists together with a wicked grin.

You balance the fabric on your fingers. Astarion swallows. Being proper isn’t really his thing. It’s thrilling to watch as he changes his mind. You annoy him  —  he detests you, wishes you gone. You are the object of all his improper late night dreams.

But as if he’s moving through water, he takes his cravat from your hands. You almost think it’s going to be a rejection. Astarion bundles your wrists together with an expertise that suggests he’s done it before. The binding becomes tight but not too tight and you relish in the way it twists your wrists. He fastens the knot into a pretty bow.

And then he kisses you. He grabs you so roughly by the back of the neck that your teeth slam together, but Astarion sighs so prettily against your mouth you decide you could withstand anything.

It’s a passionate kiss made up of teeth and spit and tongue. Astarion is both pushing you and pulling you. He can’t make up his mind. Does he want you and the stain you’ll bring to his reputation? A magistrate with a weakness for a criminal is such an interesting dynamic, but Astarion is a proud man. You are almost certain he would throw you into harm’s way if a situation ever occurred that deemed it necessary. You would do the same given the chance. This is simply a tryst.

You like to pretend it is, at least. You hate coming across as a romantic. You chase a freedom so exquisite no one will ever understand it, but when Astarion pushes you towards the couch, you don’t complain. You fall across the cushions with ease and catch him as he falls between your thighs.

‘You,’ Astarion accuses hotly, ‘are an irrevocable annoyance I may never be cured of.’

‘You are so very frank in all the ways you despise me,’ you say, moaning softly as he kisses your neck. ‘I think you’re capable of being freed after all.’

‘I am glad to see you are finally aware that it is hate that drives me,’ Astarion murmurs thickly. ‘It repulses me that you think you could possibly be endearing.’

You laugh and Astarion sucks a bruise into your collarbone. He’ll pretend to be aloof and noncommittal to your very presence, but he’s invested. You can feel the weight of his pleasure against your thighs even as he denies his feelings for you. Astarion doesn’t bother with your shirt or his own. He clings to your waist as he finds the lace of your breeches and tugs you free.

Astarion pushes his hand inside of your smallclothes and touches your flushed skin, spreading his fingers so that he can touch every inch your body has to offer. The fervor of the motion is what causes you to gasp. He’s a man on a mission, and he touches you at your core so adoringly it makes the bite of his words all but disappear. He fondles you like he’s never touched your skin before. Your gasp turns to a sultry whine, and he bites your neck like a punishment. You almost think he’s going to admonish you, that he’ll say your silence is worth more. He doesn’t. If anything, the echo of your voice spurns him to go further.

Astarion presses two fingers inside of you and the laughter dies in your chest. He’s trying to rearrange you through a perverse method. If he fucks you good enough, crime’s appeal will turn to dust within your mind. It makes you wonder what it would be like to dote on a magistrate. Would it be enough? Could it be enough? Sinning feels just as sweet.

He curls his fingers against your core and your back arches prettily off the velvet cushions. You bite your bottom lip and try to quell the pining, but then you catch a glimpse of him from beneath your eyelashes. Astarion is watching your every move. His lips are parted. His pupils are dilated. His cheeks have colored at the sound of your voice. He is torn between watching your face for your reactions and glancing down at his hand underneath your breeches. You meet his gaze bravely, chin lifting, and smile.

He adds another just to watch you struggle. The angle, the curve of his wrist, and the situation are enough to make your thighs squeeze together, but Astarion doesn’t let you. He roughly throws himself between your legs so that you can’t, and it’s hot, too hot that you cry weakly. He grins at the sound like he always does, like he always will. It’s his victory this evening. 

But as quickly as Astarion deigned to touch you, he releases you. He stands up and drags you by the wrists, turning his cheek the other way when you try to taste his skin.

‘The prosecutor is ineffectual  —  ’

You snort without meaning to, and Astarion digs his fingers into the swell of your hip. You allow him to maneuver you, bending at the waist while he presses you forward, chest against the chilled wood of his desk. You have to rise on your toes to stand comfortably.

‘Is that what you’re thinking about?’ you ask breathlessly.

‘I’m thinking about the necessary reform,’ Astarion snaps.

You press your cheek into the wood and stare at his door. The prosecutor, the defense. It doesn’t really matter, does it? Astarion is the only one who cares. You’re somewhat glad he does. It means he’s taken your case to interest, and when he presses himself to your lower back, you’re excited. He shoves your breeches to your ankles.

‘Are you going to take me here?’ you murmur. ‘On your desk. Where is your propriety?’

‘You dare speak to me of decency?’ Astarion snorts.

‘The weight of my sins will be forever embedded on your desk,’ you say. ‘You flatter me, your honor.’

‘Do you ever stop talking?’ Astarion asks. You can hear his patience snapping.

‘Well, you’re just so boring,’ you say, laughing. ‘Why don’t you do something that  —  ’

Astarion kneels down behind you and shoves his way between your legs. You shiver when he presses his lips against your core. He mouths at you hungrily. He grunts low in the back of his throat and digs his nails into your thighs. It steals your breath away. He’s so determined to change the very essence of your being that his tongue and mouth searching where his fingers first were makes you go weak in the knees. You whine.

You press your fingers into the dark, rich mahogany of his desk and try to keep focus. You want to taunt him. You want to tease him, but that wanton desire is almost forgotten entirely by the way Astarion feasts upon your flesh. He parts you with his thumbs and groans against your skin and you almost forget who you are. This is what he wanted. He wanted to pull your desires from you and replace them with his own.

You let him. He works you up as easily as anyone can be worked up, his fingers and his mouth exploring every inch of your skin that’s exposed. He goes to slide a finger in curiously, but you twist your hips away. Astarion is all work and no play. He will tease you relentlessly as it suits him, and he will do what interests him. You interest him more than he’s willing to confess. That’s why he works so hard for your pleasure.

When he’s done with you, he kisses the base of your spine soothingly. Your legs tremble beneath you. Astarion smooths his hand across your hip. You glance at him.

‘Perhaps I can fuck some sense into you now,’ Astarion mumbles.

He has the audacity to sound inquisitive. It’s not like it’s possible, but he seems determined enough to try it out regardless of his intuition. His hands are warm against your skin, and the excitement only builds in the pit of your stomach as you feel Astarion’s skin touch yours. You hear his clothes rustle and his breath catch in his throat. You hide a smile against your arm.

When Astarion slides into your core, it’s like a possession. The breath steals from your lungs. His touch is a familiar constant  —  you would recognize him anywhere by scent alone. You cry weakly. Your toes crunch from the angle, but there’s nothing you want more at this moment than to learn to be good.

Astarion hums behind you as well, his fingers digging into your hips as he tries to steady himself. The desk crunches uncomfortably against your belly but it’s a welcome pain. It keeps you focused. You still have the energy to wiggle back against him as his cock slowly pushes in until there is no more room left to explore.

‘Be good,’ he whispers, ‘and I will give you what you deserve.’

What do you deserve exactly?

It’s hard to say. You enjoy your life of crime almost as much as you love the way Astarion bends you over his desk. You’re good at stealing, you’re good at killing, but you’re good at being soft and pliant as well, giving in to that sentimentality that keeps you coming back from more.

At first it was an elaborate game. What could you do to ensure that Magistrate Judge Astarion Ancunin looked your way? He was a noble elf, and your hands were covered in fresh dough from the baker you stole from. There was a curious glint in his eyes when he looked over you, yet somehow the gods had deemed the yeast and honey on your fingers was not honest enough to be proof.

You are smitten. You bounce taller on your toes with every aggressive thrust, arms struggling to support your weight. Astarion fists his fingers into your hair and pulls until your throat is exposed. He wants you to sing for him, so you do. You arch your back and moan loudly. The sounds of it bounce around his little office.

‘You wouldn’t shut up before,’ Astarion says breathlessly, a hoarse laugh.

‘Do something  —  worth talking about  —  ’

Astarions laughs incredulously, but he does fuck you harder for it. He releases your hair without much flourish and focuses on dragging your hips back onto his cock, punching forward so hard you see stars. It’s wonderful, it’s powerful. If Astarion’s entire goal was to make you forsake the world, he’s done a good job of turning your life around. The cravat rubs against your wrists as you try to seek purchase on the desk. Your fingers drag across the polished wood, and you shudder as you clench down around his cock.

You sound so breathless and silly, groaning while he fucks you against his desk. He fills you full until you’re certain you can take no more. You press a hot cheek against the wood and try to catch your breath. You hook a foot around his ankle for support, twisting on his desk. You tuck your arms beneath your chest. You feel as though you’re coming undone. All your years of villainy, and it comes undone by the consistency of Astarion’s presence.

Your arms are stiff from constantly being up, but you’re almost grateful when Astarion pauses. He helps you turn on top of his desk so you’re on your back instead, and even though the edge digs into your lower back, you prefer that to anything else.

You meet Astarion’s gaze. He tells you he hates you, that he wishes you were out of his hair, that he despises you, but the gentleness of his eyes tells you otherwise. He slides back into you with a small moan, and you wrap your legs around his hips to guide him in further.

‘It’s good,’ you gasp. ‘It’s good, you’re good  —  ’

Astarion doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. You can see it clear as day in his eyes. Astarion won’t say he loves you, that in his ardent fervor he seeks you out, but he knows that you know. Why else would fate lead you back together? You reach for his face with your hands, and his eyes flutter closed to avoid the wistfulness. He leans into your touch.

You cry softly as Astarion begins to grind into you again. He helps carry you as he does so. And it feels so good, feels so overwhelming that you briefly consider the fact that he has changed you for the better.

A spirit that slides into your very marrow. Astarion is hauntingly beautiful, and if he is a spider then you are a fly tangled in his web. He calls you a pretty thing and you give into the struggle. You press your wrists against your forehead and strain against his cock, unable to hide from the waves of crashing pleasure.

Astarion finishes inside of you with a low moan. He presses a rough hand against your belly to stabilize himself, and shyly, you touch his wrist with your bound hands just to feel his pulse. As soon as he’s caught his breath, he releases you from your bonds.

You almost miss him when he pulls away from you. He uses one of his hanging cassocks to clean himself with and is kind enough to do the same for you. You’re almost certain that your legs won’t work, so you sit up on his desk to rest and damn his paperwork to the hells. You kick off your breeches from around your ankles and sit, legs crossed, while Astarion tries to fix his reflection in the mirror.

‘You are truly an astute teacher,’ you say casually. ‘The art of lockpicking is all but gone from my mind. Thank you, your honor.’

Astarion snorts and shakes his head, torn between ignoring you and giving into your wiles. He curls his hair back into place and then walks back to you, leaning forward until you’re nose to nose.

You think he won’t kiss you, but then he does. His lips taste like summer oranges and you taste him until it’s the only thing you can think of. He hugs you tenderly. It isn’t the same as when he admonishes you. It makes your chest feel warm. You almost feel weaker for it. Your bite is being taken away.

‘I can’t keep protecting you,’ Astarion says softly against your cheek. ‘You torment me day and night. When I lie down in my sheets, I find myself consumed with worry.’

‘You think about me?’ you tease. ‘In your sprawling manse?’

‘Move in with me,’ he murmurs. ‘Then you can be inferior yet vain inside my sprawling manse.’

Astarion is not there that evening. You try to wait as long as you can without seeming suspicious. There are maids, family members, and their admirers who come inside and out throughout the evening  —  but not Astarion, never Astarion. You wait until the sun sets and fireflies light up the streets of the Upper City but eventually, the malaise of abandonment guides your feet away. You walk the streets aimlessly until a shiver runs down your spine. A chill so violent turns you away from the courthouse.

But in the morning, there’s a fuss. It draws you back into where you left and you can’t help but to lose yourself. Astarion is dead. His mother sobs. The members of the city watch who bear the bad news look equally as morose. Astarin’s father nearly falls to his knees in despair.

When you break into their manse that evening, you look for one thing. You steal a cravat from his wardrobe and tie it around your neck.

Then, you leave Baldur’s Gate.

You aren’t sure where your feet are going to take you.

Part of your yearns for the Underdark. Baldur’s Gate is a cursed city, you decide. You wander back to it after two hundred years of avoiding it like the plague, and not an hour within the city are you spirited away on an adventure you never longed for.

You have changed. You can’t really remember who you were all those years ago, or the hopefulness you might have felt in your chest once. You’re different now. A folk hero. You used to steal from the rich and give to the poor before the mindflayers fed you their parasite and stole that part of you. But you aren’t alone this time. You wander the beach for hours searching for anything that can be of use and pause over a love letter that makes you sob.

It isn’t all bad. You meet a half-elf who scowls as much as she mumbles to herself.

On the other side of the beach, you meet a ghost.

His eyes are different from what you remember. The warmth he once looked upon you with is gone and replaced by unfamiliar sanguine.

[randomnameless]

Why do the FEH devs insist on ignoring Nabatean lore so much?

I recently had a surprisingly cordial discussion on redshit with someone about the "nabateans = colonisers" take, and one of the main points raised was that the game was purposedly foggy around Nabateans/Sothis/their story because it would obviously favor a certain narrative (and thus make another narrative look, uh, not that marketable anymore).

To be honest, we still ended up with a product that had a lead go "this race and its blood* is the reason why the world sucks" and yet that lead is still marketable enough to have raunchy cipher cards and 5 FEH alts, so I actually wonder if, while pissing on that lore had that purpose, it was ultimately pointless since Supreme Leader can still sell goodies despite her incarnation in FE16.

And not only Supreme Leader - but the entirety of WC where we basically have 70% of the cast crying/complaining about their "mixed blood" or lack of and basically adding their 10 cents to the "this race and its blood is the reason why the world sucks".

I mean, can you imagine Sylvain selling any goodies and alts if Flayn replied to his "wah wah people only are kind to me and want to fuck me because I have Nabatean blood :(" by some uncharacteristic "good for you, I have to hide my ears, had to dye my hair, have to lie about my family because if the truth is found out about my identity, I will be hunted and vivisected like an animal and harvested for parts by people who call my kin abominations - just like what happens in the game where the same people who call my kin "abominations" ally with a classmate who calls me a creature and pretends I am incapable of human feelings based on my race".

FE Fodlan's main selling point is its cast of students, for various reasons, but even if I tried to kid myself, Nopes and FEH made it clears : students are the main selling point.

If you spare more time and attention to the Nabatean plot/lore, the students either grow from "likeable" to "despicable" or worse, you won't gaf about them because yeah sure, Hilda might be upset because people expect things from her due to her crust, but it would feel like a "peanut" compared to Seteth's irrational (granted, it's not so irrational since GW exists) fear that Flayn's newest friends would dissect her if they learnt she was a Nabatean, and being conflicted by finally letting her have human friends and form bonds she crave, or protect her due to the trauma from the genocide of their species.

Don't get me wrong, I love peanuts, I mean, not everyone can have a tragik of loaded backstory!

And yet, given how this verse's DNA is "can you fight against the red emperor who uwus about you", they had to add copious amounts of Earl Grey to their games so there's no clear-cut factions :

The "Your alien blood and its influence on the world corrupted it, so I want to reform it under my command" vs "I don't want to die and you oppose me due to my race and side with the people who genocided my kin"

is turned to :

"Your alien blood Crests and its your church's influence on the world corrupted it, so I want to reform it under my command"

"I don't want to die and you oppose me due to my race and side with the people who genocided my kin"

Sprinkle with the cast's hammering here and there that the "reforms" might be needed - but never develop on what they are - and add a few baseless and groundless takes as a toping (basically everything Claude says about tolerance and the general "isolationism/foreign policy" stuff) and you get FE Fodlan where the Red Emperor's war isn't seen as the catastrophe it is in the other entries from the series!

Now, for FEH...

FWIW, the F!F!Billy's trailer had them try to explain that Sothis was a bit pissed about her slaughtered/massacred children when Nopes never gave any reason about why she was pissed - maybe on Billy's behalf bcs Jerry's dead, but come on, she would indeed deserve the medal of the worst parent in the franchise if that was the case, since Billy can murder her daughter without Sothis taking over ! - but given that they cannot write/go against the source game those characters are from.

They tried a bit, with B!Supreme Leader and Hegemongard's FB, but then it stopped (because she had no "new unit" released since then lol) and I can understand why : Hegemongard came out before the Supreme Emblem, and Hegemongard hates dragons who are seen/perceived as gods by some of their human followers. Come FE17, and now Supreme Emblem accepts Alear because they are "one of the good ones". We can come up with HCs and details and talk about what are emblems or if Hegemongard's views were only hers at the end of AM all day long... But imo, Doylist wise, it still feels it's a retcon because the devs from the main games tried to scrap and remove the most "controversial" traits she had.

For the other characters... Well, you see what Marianne is in FEH (but even in her base games), she's one of the few characters who reacts - in a way - to the partial history about relics and demonic beasts and all... only to give sad uwus to Maurice.

FE16 (and Nopes) refused to have any "student" character react to the Nabatean lore/reveal, about what are relics and all. There are no lines, Claude shared some knowledge in the explore section of VW's last chapter, but we don't have anyone muse or think or even talk about what are relics, what are crests, and what kind of fuckery their ancestors or the ancient humans of Fodlan did.

With that in mind, FEH can't do much : either they write Marianne in a retcon-y way like what happened for Hegemongard (and they're not afraid to piss on characterisation, look at Lyon!), or they flanderise her "character" and develop her around 3 lines she had in the game in her paralogue, and continue to give sad uwus about Momo when he was at best a guy who slaughtered and murdered so much that he abused the Nabatean turned into a relic to the point where he turned in a demonic beast even if he had a matching crest, or at worst, had been part of Nemesis's piñata party in Zanado and was something of a genocider.

Tldr :

Why FE Fodlan never gaf about Nabateans : earl grey + the marketable cast has to stay marketable and you can't sell peanuts at the same price you'd sell swordfish

Why FEH dgaf about Nabatean lore : they can't afford to retcon characters + they have to sell peanut alts with the same seasoning they had in their base game.

For what it's worth though, I think FEH is more daring than the base game(s) given how they gave more lines and screentime to Rhea - through her different alts - than GW. And they even designed her Halloween!alt's lines to piss on some of Claude's assertions, while the various FB involving members of the church also - indirectly - reply to some accusations thrown their way in FE16 when, FE16, never gave them an opportunity or lines to explain that those takes were full of dung.

*"but random, maybe she doesn't know that the crests she often decries is "dragon blood"!"

It's highly debatable, especially given what she and Hubert throw to Billy in CF - but even if she doesn't, Doylist wise we still have a character who, knowingly or not, says "this race and its blood* is the reason why the world sucks" and who is never called out on her prejudice. That's more of an issue regarding the general writing though, she has to be a red emperor and took pages from Ashnard's book, and yet, the player must still feel bad and want to romance her, so her mindest/goal cannot be looked at too closely, because, I guess, even the devs thought it would be difficult to romance her (thus sell goodies!) if more light was shed on the "blood from this race corrupts our people" schtick -> which in turn would also make characters whose backstory and gimmick rely on "crying about crests" be way less likeable, thus marketable and able to sell goodies.

[yassminesboo]

Lookism chapter 514: little rant

This is stupid as fuck at this point, genuinely one of the worst lookism chapters i've read so far.

I've been here since 2020, I've felt a lot of things when reading lookism, excitement, giddiness, sadness, suspense but never have i ever felt actual "what the fuck is going on" rage ever while reading lookism.

Nothing in this whole "hunt for gun" arc makes sense, like literally nothing adds up. first we've got the ENTIRE verse assembling like the avengers to take down gun, like we're talking extras that haven't appeared in years. Then these seemingly amazing strong characters that went through so much character development and training arcs get the floor wiped with them, absolutely erasing all the progress they've made so far and get taken down within literally three panels. Not to mention how they deal fatal blows and this man hits super saiyan poses and gets up like nothing happened? Then he proceeds to randomly and casually plunging off a cliff above the mountain forest and lands on the highway in 0.00001 sec mid fight without taking any fall damage whatsoever and gets right back to swinging.

Anyways fast forward to the ridiculous fight he had with johan, which i find to be absolutely ridiculous johan should have 100% won that and the fight should'nt have been prolonged that much, not only was johan in perfect health and his vision was restored, but gun was also getting more and more "tired" and his state was pitiful. But SOMEHOW he still won that. Okay. Cool.

And now fast forward to today's chapter: gun's DUMBASS turns down goo's offer and now they're fighting. So naturally you'd expect gun to lose because goo is relatively equal (as stated multiple times by the narrative) to gun, and gun is in a pitiful state broken arm basically became a flesh and bones smoothie, not to mention his organs must have turned into slime from the amount of hits he has taken. His left eye is popped and bloodshot, his neck is sliced, he even has CLAW marks down his lower torso and forearm, excessive blood loss and nasty bruising everywhere... so obviously goo who is 100% in good shape and is proven to be a very powerful and impactful character will win right? Haha.

*internally screaming throwing up sobbing rolling on the floor in rage and despair*

HOW THE FUCK DID HE END UP ON THE FLOOR SQUISHED LIKE A BUG WITH A SWORD PIERCING THROUGH HIM???? The whole fight made me ENRAGED, i lost it when he blocked the sword with his mouth AND bit it off like are we sure we're still in a slice of life manhwa and not a horror one? I lost it even more when his mouth that was torn ear to ear because of the sword magically healed in the next panel like nothing happened, like that sword didn't just cut through his flesh. Speaking of swords cutting through flesh, how did goos sword sharp enough to cut through metal and concrete walls get stuck on his ankle? Dies this man have titanium bones or something?? How did the sword get stuck on the FLESH not even the bone itself. And the fact that he just walked it off again like nothing happened.. somehow goo only landed like two clean hits and gun magically dodged all the other ones.

Then PTJ proceeds to pull up the double suicide to end the fight in which BOTH goo and gun were stabbed but goo somehow is the one who ends up being squished on the floor like a bug.

This is unacceptable, idk wth ptj was expecting us to get hype after gun some fucking how is capable of weaseling himself out of every corner he's backed up to this is starting patterns that are very similar to jjk.. which i don't like at all. I'd like to say for the one billionth time again that PTJ writing gets progressively worse from the years, which only consists of stalling and dragging the arcs instead of moving on to other plot points, extreme plot armor, adding in an unbelievable number of minor characters, background characters, and extras just to neglect them after a few chapters. Some characters who supposedly were from the "main cast" were gone for YEARS dude, and the lacking female character writing (some may argue with this because it is true there are female characters that are badass and are really good written, but most are created only for the purpose of helping a certain male character with character development. Which he literally directly says on his author note for viral hit in which he says all the female characters form the main cast even the nurse were created for romantic interest, which is an insane thing to say.)

Anyhow, if you've read this far thank you for coming to my ted talk 😓. I know some things i said might be controversial but i just needed to let out some steam, because this is getting ridiculous. Everyone can see the pattern now like there is no way that he's so overpowered that the entirety of the verse wasn't able to take him down.

[v-veenushiftz]

Introduction

I am so bad at doing intro's, this is now my 3rd time doing it. 😂 And hopefully the last. (I learnt how to make a divider, so it's at least a little fancy lol)

My last intro lacked some basic information because I was just rambling about shifting, so here it is.

My name is Vera, or you can call me Vee. Either way, I don't mind. My pronouns are she/her, and I am 16, turning 17 soon. I know some don't want to interact with minors (understandably), but age is just a number. My main dr's at the moment are TWD and my waiting room (waiting room first obvi bcs that scary 😂)

I have been a shifter for 2 years now and have only had a few 'mini-shifts'. I don't like the term 'mini-shift' as a shift is still a shift, but I call it that as I never visually saw I was in my dr. Things like touches, feeling or smell of something is more what told me I was there, and obviously it didn't last very long. (Every shift I'd be alone in my own room or something, so there's no way it could've happened there)

I am looking for friends surrounding shifting and love to hear of other people's dr's even if I'm not shifting there. I have a few other dr's that I'm open to talk about, but I'm not very focused on shifting to those yet. Almost all of my dr's follow a sub-plotline of sorts. (Edit: added one, my bad lol)

— Game of Thrones/ House of the Dragon (more HotD timeline but with GoT plot kind of (without all the dying))

— The Spider-verse/ DC (combined)

— Shameless

— Better OR (Original reality as I don't like the term 'cr')

I'm thinking of making a fame/musician dr but haven't thought too deeply about it just yet. I see some shifters have so many dr's, and my brain is like,'How do u manage that?'. I'd be stressing 😂. Any shifters who want to talk or what not, please don't hesitate to pm or talk. I'm friendly, I promise 😅

Do not interact if you:

Are anti in general, anti-shifters, transphobics, homophobics, and anything along those lines, racists, tr*mp supporters and/or anyone similar, just don't interact if you're a shitty person 🤷‍♀️.

I don't know what else to put here, but I think I covered it all this time as I will not be making another one of these lmfao.

[derekfoxwit]

Random Pixar Rant

Several things about the recent Pixar discourse that frustrates me, because....... (sigh) time be a flat circle.

1. Yep....... we're back to "CAL Arts / Bean Mouth Style" discussions, and they really haven't been that much better from what I've seen (big shock). It's still just as selective in its examples and just as "I said so" feeling in the comments on all the characters now looking exactly the same (which was barely even true for most of the 2D cartoons that got this moniker). Here, it's barely going over any other visual intricacies than "bean face", not too far off from when the discussion on 2D television shows would just use faces of the main characters and be like "clearly you could swap them and it wouldn't be different." Yet when looking into Turning Red compared to the miniseries Win or Lose, the latter illustrates clear major stylistic differences with the more abstract look of certain background elements like the tree; the various ways the different characters' points of view have their inner thoughts depicted; and even the difference in the CG camera movement feeling like separate scenes morphing into each other and their props switching around. The fact that it's been called "Bean mouth" is becoming more ridiculous to me, since you could find many animations of various styles which contain at least a couple characters that sport round beanish smiles or even have a constant bean mouth, including some anime and, more relevant here, Dreamworks' The Bad Guys. People have also been comparing it to that infamous GrubHub commercial like it's one of the same, when a simple contrast in how the characters move would be enough to suggest otherwise. At least here, there's the added caveat that now it's in CGI and the argument that it doesn't quite fit in CG..... which I'm still a little hesitant to believe since the boon of more stylized CG animation after the advent of Spider-Verse just kind of makes that sort of line blurrier.

2. I swear too many people online directly STRIVE to be as reductive as possible. I could probably make a long-form video essay on this, but western animation discourse has frequently had this flavor of taking the most face-value, borderline superficial similarity and go "stop operating the copy-paste machine". All of the Bean Mouth stuff I already said is an example, but outside of that, people recently have sometimes been really reaching to try to paint certain sets of works as just being all the same narratively. For example, here, between Turning Red, Disney's Encanto and back to Pixar with Elemental, there has been a lot of folks talking about by this point, it's apparently all the same film just because of the theme of generational trauma. As if you can't tell different stories that all happen to have that theme. The fact that Elemental is about a romance blooming between two characters, that by itself should already suggest major plot differences from Turning Red and Encanto. Similarly, I've noticed a few folks act as if Elio, Turning Red and Luca focusing on kid characters is somehow some indication of lesser creativity in Pixar just because they used to do have MCs that are toys, rats, what have you. Especially with all those same flicks being coming of age stories and some online discussions suggesting that's also enough to make the films one of the same. One such example being in the below comment (which the SamDoesArt video linked later does highlight). It's starts feeling like the microwaved version of the Disney Princess talk that was once prominent, mainly with the emphasis of 'wanting more,' which by itself isn't even THAT informative of the overarching story. Whatever happened to just saying there are similarities without going to the most extreme possible route?

3. Now with Elio, certain figures (including the screencapped SamDoesArt, at 9:22-10:32) are basically bringing back that "limited in scope" talk that from that one now-archived Cinemablend review of Turning Red from back when it just came out. Essentially, several people, from just recently (Master Samwise, 3:39-4:04, also POST-MODERN THOUGHT?! You're just spouting whatever at this point) to when Turning Red was brand new, would make similar comments about how apparently, making a story that's inspired by your childhood experiences will turn the film into an overly niche, less relatable flick. Some would even comment on how apparently odd it is, some of which I doubt meant any harm but ultimately still found a poor choice of words. I also couldn't help but notice how quickly people are willing to act that way when the main character was some sort of minority group (most notably with Turning Red). Beyond that, I just can't help but feel like there's some weird, almost admittedly reactionary narrative going on against coming-of-age kids' entertainment.

[queenofbaws]

CONTINUATION OF OTHER PROMPT FOR WEEKEND PROMPTS....In the Ashley Matt prompt, they swear to date if Chris hasn't asked out Ashley in a year...

Would be interested in the verse where they follow this pact, and by the time the actual UD plot has started, Matt has dumped Em and Ashley and Matt are dating! (Specifically because I'm curious whether Matt and Ashley would go through the firetower plot or the saw traps lol)

The rush of blood in his ears was so loud, so overwhelming, he almost couldn't hear the storm whipping around them.

Since what had happened in the shed (and God oh God oh God, he wished he could stop reliving it in his head - the way Ashley had been screaming, the shock and confusion on Chris's face as he'd grabbed the lever and pulled, the sound of Josh's - stopstopstop), he'd been running on autopilot, doing everything he could to get them from Point A to Point B to Point C to Point whatever-the-fuck-came-next. First, that had meant trying to find Em and Sam on the path; a no-go, considering their footprints were already covered by the snow and none of them wanted to risk yelling out. Then, it had meant getting to the cable car station to find help; another no-go, as they'd found the place trashed, windows broken and the door caved in by a hatchet he'd taken for himself when Chris made it clear he wasn't comfortable quote, 'being the weapons guy.' Now...well now it got messy.

Because the cable car key was missing. And Josh had the only extra.

They'd come up with the plan all the way down at the summit, but as the shed slowly came back into view, Matt felt Ashley's grip tighten on him. It snapped him out of his fugue, bringing him back to the here and now - the icy wind numbing his cheeks, the uneven crunch of their boots in the snow, Chris's frantic muttering, and, most of all, the quiet chant of "I can't, I can't, I can't" Ashley was puffing out on every exhale.

It took him a second to get his face to work the way he wanted it to. Adrenaline was an old friend of his, terror nothing new, and so channeling every playoff he'd ever been in, every every fourth-quarter tie where the entire stadium seemed to shake with the sound of stomping feet and furious voices, he made himself focus. He made himself function.

"You don't have to," he said, stopping just short of where their panicked escape had flattened the snow outside of the shed. He turned to Ashley, still half in her grip, and gently held her by the chin so she had no choice but to look at him. "I'm going in there - "

"Matt, you can't!"

"Listen - listen. I'm going in there. I have the hatchet. You and Chris will stay behind. You can stay right here if you want. You can stay right here and keep an eye out for any movement, and if you see it, you can scream at the top of your lungs and I'll come running back out."

She didn't seem to like that, not even a little, but she didn't interrupt him, save to let her breath out in such a rush that her shoulders slouched and she shrank an inch. Chris, on the other hand, had opinions.

He'd had opinions about all of Matt's choices, tonight.

"Y-You can't be serious, man! I mean, there's...there's a fucking serial killer - "

"You could also come into the shed," Matt continued, flashing him a warning look over Ashley's head. "It probably won't be warmer, but it'll be out of the wind and maybe us sticking closer together isn't the worst idea."

"You expect me to go in there and look at...there's...I mean, he's..." Chris shook his head, his face flushed with windburn already. "Nah, no, I...I can't do it. I...not with Josh..."

"Then keep an eye out," he repeated, talking more gruffly than he meant to, each word making his jaw feel like a bear trap snapping shut. Frowning, he shook the worst of it off and quickly added, "I'll handle it. Seriously. I know how close you guys were, it's..." He lowered his gaze to Ashley again, and through her terror, recognized her understanding. "It's different for me. I'll be as fast as I can, okay? I'll check his...if it's not in a pocket, I'll look around the ground too."

"You can't be serious. You can't be serious! We should go back to the lodge! We should try the phones, we - "

With his hand still on her chin like that, he felt Ash take a breath more than he heard or saw it. She held it for a second, then blew it out in a cloud that might've warmed his face, had it not been for the wind. "No, Chris. Matt's right. This is...it's our best shot."

"It's...what? Ash, do you hear yourself?! He's gonna be walking into a fucking crime scene! What if - "

"What if what?" she snapped, whirling towards him. "You just said it - there's a serial. Freaking. Killer up here with us! We need to get off the mountain and find help! If we go back into the lodge, we're just holing ourselves up where he can find us!" There was a beat where she held Chris's gaze, the two of them having some wordless conversation he wasn't privy to, and then she was back, her hands on his shoulders, her eyebrows knitted tightly together. "Be safe," she said, lowering her voice, "be fast. And...and come back in one piece, okay?"

Despite everything that he'd seen tonight, everything he'd experienced, Matt smiled. "Okay," he nodded, "I promise." He dipped his head, she tipped hers back, and the kiss was freezing cold but soft and welcome and everything he needed to keep moving.

He tightened his grip on the hatchet, nodded to them both one last time, and just like that...he was in the shed again, choked by the smell of old mulch and new blood. As brave as he'd tried to make himself seem, there was a crazy shaking that came into his fingers as he turned the corner and the spotlights lit up the killing floor. He'd barely passed sophomore biology because dissecting the fetal pig had wigged him out so badly - the slick, shiny purples and reds and pinks of human organs, the yellowish gush of human fat, it was so much, too much.

And he'd just volunteered to get up close and personal with it, patting Josh's body down for an itty-bitty key he only might've had on him.

Matt screwed his eyes shut tight, scrounged up every iota of courage he had, and stepped over the threshold. When he opened his eyes again, his boots were in blood. Josh's legs lay splayed out in front of him, his feet cocked at odd angles, the rest of him...the rest of him still hanging from the wall.

He swallowed hard around the bile surging up his throat. "I'm sorry," he said, knowing Josh couldn't hear him but hoping it counted, all the same. "Chris wasn't gonna make the choice. He couldn't. I'm sorry it had to be me. Seriously, I am, because it was always going to be Ash with me. You didn't stand a chance. That's...I know that's shitty to say, and...really, I'm sorry for that. I hope you - " But when he glanced up, having finally found the strength to look Josh in the face, time itself seemed to stop moving.

His apology died on his lips.

Quickly, suddenly finding it very hard to look away from the ruined torso hanging on the rack, Matt did what he said he'd do: patted down Josh's pockets - all of them - for the cable car key. He wasn't surprised when he didn't find it, not knowing what he did now, but he tried. He tried.

The fear left his body in a sheet. One great big rush, like the first big pump of blood to an arm full of pins and needles, only in reverse. It left him feeling tired, exhausted really, and sad in a way that he hadn't expected.

Light on his feet, now, he walked to the halfway point, unafraid to raise his voice and call to them. "Hey! You guys need to see this! C'mon, it's..." He paused, setting the hatchet down against the nearest wall to rub some feeling back into his face. "...it's safe!"

They didn't answer, not out loud, but the scuffle of their feet told him they were coming, so he took a few more steps to meet them where they wouldn't immediately see the body.

"What the fuck?! Why are you yelling when that maniac could - "

Matt shook his head. "There's, um..." That strange sadness rose up, threatening to choke him the way his puke had only a second ago. Slowly, he held his hands out, and slowly, Ashley took them, and before he could chicken out of it, he made himself meet her eyes.

The whole bus ride up. The whole cable car ride up. The whole walk up. Hell, the whole week leading up to this. How many stories had she told him? How many plans had she made? Ways to apologize to Josh for the prank, ways to fix their friendship, ways to get him to smile, to laugh, to trust her the way he had before...he'd heard them all. Every single one, he'd nodded along to, or offered feedback, or just let her get out. And though he'd never really been friends with the guy to start with (Hannah had always sort of been 'his' Washington, not that he'd acted like it there at the end), he'd promised her a hundred times over that whatever it took, however he could help, they'd get there. They'd fix it. Apologize. Make it better, at least, since they couldn't make it right.

What the fuck was he supposed to tell her now?

"There's...not a killer," is what he settled on, and before either she or Chris could say a word, he pulled her forward, nodding to rubber skin that hadn't lost a bit of color. To the hole in the wall, conveniently cut where a head should go. To the dark, bloody footprints that hadn't muddled in with their own, but had instead followed a calm, winding path toward the back of the shed before fading. "But I do think Josh has that key."

[extralively]

hi i'm extra and I just made this tumblr ¯\_(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)_/¯

I write fics in my free time! .......well ok, I've been writing this one monstrosity of a fic/series and that's about it. The first part is complete, though, and there are a bunch of fun (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) onsehots you can read as standalone:

Series: Under the Cover of Shadows

Gojo Satoru/Original Female Characters General tags: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, (but mostly) Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn (the slowest), Co-parenting the Fushiguros, Found Family, Sexual Tension, Pining (lots of it), Idiots in Love, Eventual Smut, Some Plot, Angst, Fluff

Out of the Shadows (Main story) (Complete) No one had expected Gojo Satoru to form a friendship with the unknown girl that joined school in the same year he did. Not even Gojo Satoru, or Yura herself, especially considering he’d been an asshole to her the first time they met. A complicated friendship was born, one that would last years to come no matter how many headaches the white haired menace would give her – he was like gum in your hair, she mused, too much work to cut it out so why even bother trying?

Morning Surprise (Oneshot) (NSFW) Satoru was happily surprised when he came back to his apartment and found that Yura was still there. ...And that she was wearing his shirt for the first time.

One Less Barrier (Oneshot) (NSFW) A little accident happens, and it leads Yura to seek out a new way of preventing them from accidentally producing any heirs...

A Private Onsen (Oneshot) (NSFW) Satoru and Yura finally get to enjoy their hotel room's private onsen bath together.

Drunk (Oneshot) At two different points in time, Satoru had to be the responsible one for a change and take a drunk Yura home. But a drunk Yura acted a little differently than normal, sober Yura...

Deeper in the Dark (Main story) (In progress) Sequel to Out of the Shadows. Life had fallen into an easy rhythm for Satoru and Yura as they got comfortable in their kinda-sorta relationship, teaching at Jujutsu Tech and caring for the Fushiguros together. But peace only lasts for so long in the jujutsu world, and when the safety of Yura’s little family is suddenly put in jeopardy, she has to fight to make sure everyone gets out alive—while still trying to figure out the truth of the thing inside of her.

Movie Night (Oneshot) (NSFW) Satoru has Yura over for a little movie night, but what he has in mind is something completely different. So Yura decides to teach him to have a little patience as she... 'enjoys the movie'.

Bringing You Home (Oneshot) (NSFW) After leaving a boring clan event, Satoru brings Yura with him to his private quarters on the Gojo Estate. Yura gets to snoop a bit in what is essentially Satoru's childhood bedroom, before the two of them actually get started with the, ahem, after-party...

School Stories (Collection of oneshots) A series of snapshots of Yura and Satoru's lives during high school, as their relationship evolves from constant bickering into a semi-functional friendship and all the hijinks in-between.

Catoru (Oneshot) (Absolutely unserious) Satoru gets turned into a cat, and Yura suddenly has to catsit the white furry menace until he turns back.

Married? (Oneshot) After a curse user ambush, Yura has to explain to Megumi just what exactly her bond with Satoru is...

Clubbing (Oneshot) Satoru and Yura go clubbing with Utahime and Shoko...

More will be added later, and new chapters are posted every week for the main fic!

Also! Let me actually organize everything I posted about the fic here:

Other bits of writing:

The Mistletoe Incident (2014)

"What would the CANON!Timeline characters reactions be to Yura and the UtCoS!Verse?"

"What is Gojo Satoru to Wakatsuki Yura?"

"What is Wakatsuki Yura to Gojo Satoru?"

"Wakatsuki Yura, what are top 5 compliments you would give to Gojo Satoru?"

"Gojo Satoru, what kind of woman is your type?"

"Wakatsuki Yura, what's your type?"

"Gojo's lip care routine"

Ijichi's thoughts on SatoYura

The meaning of Yura's name

Satoru and Yura dancing up in the sky

My art: (aka this fic gave me an excuse to practice drawing some more)

Yura portrait + Satoru/Yura portrait

How SatoYura cuddle

Yura's adult jujutsu uniform

A SatoYura (attempted) manga-style drawing

Catoru fic header

Yura as a student

First(?) date night

Satoru not knowing personal space while brushing teeth

The Ritual (yes, That One)

Cuddling on the couch

Tsumiki's uniform (+ Megumi)

Environments from the fic recreated in The Sims 4: (aka I have too much time in my hands)

Yura's first teeny tiny apartment

Yura's bigger and better second apartment

Satoru's luxury apartment Part 1 | Part 2

The Sims 4 SatorYura AU where nothing bad ever happens: (aka completely non-canon to the main fic but I am obsessed with them and also TS4 so yes)

Yura living in her teeny tiny apartment, already wants to flirt with Satoru

Satoru and Yura finally properly meet, they become friends (SLOW DOWN SATORU)

Satoru fell in love first

They finally "get together" (if you've read the fic, you know how this goes)

The Gojo House of this little AU (non-canon to the main fic)

Enter the Fushiguros

Found family shenanigans, Yura graduates

In love and living together

IT HAPPENED!!

🎵 here comes the bride 🎵

Wedding photos + honeymoon

[gridgamesgalore]

really need to make my introduction post but im currently insane right now so I have to go on a tangent

[ note; this will not be professional writing pls bear w/ me i misspell things on purpose unless pointed out by myself so pleek pleeek ( i also refer to xfohv as jnj sometimes for clarification ) + there will be mentions of learningblocks related content just a heads up before any people call me weird for fixating on a " show for toddlers " ]

hello !! lowjay the order the karnage here !! so um ,, im here to talk about the 2 , 763 , OOO JnJ sub special ,, that shit was absolutely phenomenal .. insane even .. it altered my brain chemistry and I HAVE to talk about it ,,

spoilers for the 2 , 763 , OOO special if you haven't seen it ♡♡♡ (please watch it pleek)

I really need to mention this creature's appearance first . ALGEBRALIEN TWENTY-FOUR IS CANON !!! OH MY GOD THIS GUY IS SO RAHHHH !! /VVVVPOS lowjay try not to get attachrd to the most random characters / things ever !! ( impossible) THIS CREATURE IS MAKING ME TWEAK OUT ,, EXPECT A GIJINK OF THEM SOON!! /BALL (fun fact !! one of my closest moots calls them gijinks of algebraliens jnjinkas ♡♡♡ /silly)

( just want to let yall know i crosship them and twenty-four nbs ♡♡ is that oak ,, I love being a multishipper )

NEXT NEXT NEXT NEXT arguably the most important ever piece of lore in jnj / beefydie history has to be the canonical powerful being 2763 ♡♡♡ this creature is so silly :ball:

[ next paragraph will be a somewhat lengthy tangent about a crossover au w/ beefydie + nbs ( numberblocks woah ! ) so pleek listen ]

so w / this information about 2763 being the canonical powerful being of the beefydie , i wonder .. does this mean that if 97104 got figured out they would be one of the powerful beings of nbs ?? ( ahem the others are one , zero , and possibly forty-two because hitchhiker ' s guide to galaxy hh ) THINK ABOUT IT ♡♡♡♡♡ PLES PLEEK (fun fact !! the digits of 97104 added up together equals 21 ! /info !! is this the reason she is curious to find out new explorer ?? spoiler warning ; probably not i just might be mentally ill ) /ball ,, ANYWAYS ,, what i was getting to is that the plot of this au is basically just both nbs 24 and algebralien 24 grouping up w / several other people (will decide that later because I literally just thought this au up an hour after the special) to overcome the dreadful disasterly deeds of 97104 and 2763 ♡♡♡ (captain underpants ahh alliteration) yeah all that hype for nothing ♡♡ sorry i just really need to share this ♡♡♡ trust trust TRUST i will make fanart of this au TRUST ♡♡♡ /SILLY

( THESE TWO ARE CANON TRUST )

this isn't really a big thing but more of an honorable mention ♡ I really liek the zero ' we can do it ! ' poster ♡♡♡ i find propaganda posters interesting in general ♡♡♡ /gen /pos

( i know what you are ,, fifteen simp ,, )

another long yapping session but I NEED to talk about my joyous enthusiasm ,, I'm so happy that in the jnj / xfohv / beefydie verse algebralien tweb is an important piece of lore which makes me hfhdhsjjsjekrghhhGRRRRR ,,,, froth at the mouth ,, because I dont think you guys understand how much the number tweb in general means to me ,, not only is tweb the first ever whole number to have 6 factors [ rectangly number in bluezoo terms ] their debut in nbs most likely highly impacted the learningblocks community in general ,, nbs tweb is so cool and the existence of the peak number system dozenal and the passage of time revolving around tweb and numbers RELATED to tweb [ PLEASE watch the about time special even if you aren't interested in nbs or already know it's very silly trust ] and yeah and did i mention the dozenal system hhhh [ as you can see i am very normal about different number bases / radixes ] /VVVPOS

( silly !! )

ending off w / an honorable mention ,, algebralien 63 !! they are really cool woah ♡♡ I really lobe when jnj introduces new algebraliens ♡♡♡ /vpos

anyway that was my long yap session ,, I realy hope you liek my existence of here ♡♡♡♡ this special changed my life and I am literally feeling ball rn ♡♡♡

[karmaticfeild]

Reader-Insert Date Everything Oneshot Requests

Hello! I have been a little dead lately, but with working full time and some personal issues happening in life has made writing a little difficult. But recently I have gotten into this wonderful dating simulator and I cannot help but feel the overwhelming feeling to write about these amazing characters.

I feel like I should say this but I have not finished the full game yet and I have not played all the character routes, I am currently working on it but it may take me a bit. So if there are characters that are ooc please understand that.

With that out of the way, here are some ground rules and some limits! The rules/parameters below can and are subject to change. Please read through them before leaving any requests, it is greatly appreciated!

Feel free to request any smut, comfort, angst, fluff, basically anything. Please add a scenario and don’t just write “more of insert character”. If this pops up I will ask if you have a scenario or plot, and if not I can work with you to come up with one!

I will be writing oneshots separate from this work, so if you are curious about that keep an eye out!

I currently have no characters that I will not write about, but there is a definite thing I will not write about and that is piss/scat. If you request anything with it your comment will be deleted. I’m sorry Jean Loo fans. Dependent on what happens there could be more added, along with some characters, but I will alert and edit as things come up!

Only character/reader or character/reader/character. I do not feel comfortable with writing OC’S as I do not want to write them incorrectly or not have enough information about them.

I usually write in either a third person pov or second person pov. This usually depends on the type of fic or what mood I am in to write, but if you have a specific request for writing style please let me know. I will not write first person however, personally I do not like writing in that style.

For readers in specific I will mostly write AFAB or GN readers. I can write AMAB readers if it is preferred or trans readers, but only if it requested to do so. I am not the most educated or well versed in trans readers, forgive me if it takes a bit for me to research and write these characters to the best of my ability.

I do not have a word count limit for any of my fics, but I hope to at least write 5k words for each request. If there is less then that I apologize, as it will also depend on what the request is.

Requests will be first come first serve.

Those are the main things, of course I will add more if needed. But there are a few things I would like to say before finishing this little intro page.

I do not expect this to happen, but I feel like it should be said especially because of things that are happening currently. Please do not use my works in any generative ai. It is incredibly insulting as a writer and a person. I understand the appeal of it, but I request that it do not happen with my work. This fic and any others on my account are public because I want people to be able to easily consume fan media without having to make an ao3 account, but that also opens up more possibilities of stolen work or works being put into generative ai machines. Please do not do that. I do not think it will be a problem, but I put this here as a reminder.

Please understand that requests may take a bit to post. I have a full time job and a life outside of fanfic. I will try and post as much as I can, but if I am slow I apologize.

Along with these being posted on Tumblr, these fics and any of my other oneshots will continue to be posted on my Ao3 account. Feel free to comment requests on Ao3. A link to the Ao3 fic will be provided here! Karmaticfeild

Because of some of the themes in this collection, it will be considered +18. Warnings will be added to the beginning of every oneshot, especially if there is triggering content or sexual activity.

If anyone is coming here for the JJBA request page, I guarantee you that your fics are currently being worked on. There have been things happening to hold me back from finishing up those fics, but they will be finished and posted as soon as I can.

I want all of us to have fun and for you guys to get the best results that I can. Requests will also be open indefinitely unless stated otherwise. And please feel free to ask any and all questions, I am more than willing to answer them! With all of that being said, I am excited to work on this. I hope you all have an amazing day/night and have fun requesting!

[bobcanhandlethevoid]

//Some Wishlist Plots:

1. Bob singing to someone, like in headcanon

2. The beginnings of them in the tower (good with oc that lives with them). Also THEM PICKING ROOMS.

3. Bob seeing the tower for the first time, after being unhoused for so long, at different stages of construction. Warning that some of it might possibly trigger him/remind him of past times.

4. Someone watching a bunch of movies with him. In my headcanons, he watched a bit here and there, as a kid little with his life, older when he addicted he sometimes did but didn't always remember it well. And if it was during times he didn't remember, he also didn't remember the movie. In this idea, I would also LOVE the option of someone, without being asked but maybe seeing one hard movie, searches hard to get movies without drinking, drugs and certain mental health triggers.

5. More in-depth about dealing with wanting to use again.

6. His powers slipping out every once in a while and how to handle it - possibly training.

7. People trying to get him to start medication.

8. Him MAKING people work on their mental health with him, even with some guilt tripping.

9. Him randomly sharing AWFUL/HILARIOUS etc story from his past.

10. Him meeting another addict, in recovery or not.

11. Romance. And honestly dealing with physical intimacy with my headcanon of giving bad memories.

12. Deep talk into what they put in him.

13. Someone catching him with alcohol (but not drinking it).

14. Him doing volunteer work with addicts.

15. Someone finding him sitting and reading a ton of stories on what people felt when he was over them.

16. Him to start losing control again.

17. Him to talk about having VOID in his head often.

18. Someone getting angry at him/just being evil and trying to make it worse.

19. Someone from his past finding him.

20. Someone playing the void inside him etc, even if they don't normally. We can keep it different verse etc.

21. Something with another bob. Please. We'll come up with something.

++++ All SORTS of AUs because his powers could be from ANYWHERE. Some examples:

-He shifts into animals.

-He shifts into inmate objects.

-He "becomes" other people, possibly with the their personality influencing him, or him joining them in their mind.

-He either steals or borrows other people's powers.

-Other people affect him as if they were his VOID, greatly affecting his emotions, thoughts, possibly which power they have.

-Supernatural AU

-Mermaid AU

-Kraken AU

-Dinosaur AU

-Doctor Who AU

-Detective AU

-When he was young

-When he was using

WILL BE ADDED TO WITH THE #Wishlist! Suggest more! Open to some non-mutuals (message to check), open to multiple people doing the same wishlist with me! If you are interested and I'm doing one with the same character, that's normally fine we just need to make it different somehow. If you're interested, comment with a number! Feel free to do multiple and we do all of them or "choose 1" etc.

[whatsa-bi-as]

always a woman to me

idol!Riwoo x reader

a/n; I have tried to make this gender neutral but it might seem a bit more feminine so I apologise!!

plot; Riwoo doesn't understand why you won't dance with him

genre; fluff, established relationship

warnings; slight mentions of alcohol, reader slightly insecure

word count; 0.9k

proofread; the lovely @leaderwon helped me out with this one! Check her out!!

networks; @kflixnet, @k-labels

“Everyone can dance. I mean not everyone is good but everyone can dance.” 

Your boyfriend is tired of this conversation. Everytime he wants you to come join him you just have to say that you can’t. If you just didn’t want to he’d understand but when you say “can’t” it’s so unlike your usual confidence he struggles to accept it.

He gets that performing isn’t for everyone but dancing is something that everyone can enjoy, and he simply wants to do it with you. He wants to twirl you around and imagine that it was the first dance at your wedding, he wants to hear you laugh when one of you trips over, and hear you celebrate when you manage to match the routine.

He just wants to see you enjoy the thing he loves.

However, you don’t dance and have admitted that you have always had two left feet. Dance competitions as a kid left you confused, though slightly in awe, at how people could move so naturally while all your focus went to remembering the movements. 

You get that same feeling of awe now, watching as your love effortlessly follows the music. The smile on his face as he lets his body move to whatever you have chosen matches yours as you watch him. 

If you had more faith in your abilities you would join him. To stand next to him and let yourself just move; it is something that you would give everything to be able to do. You never told him about this, too scared of being made fun of. Even though you knew Riwoo would never make you feel bad about it, deep down the fear was still there.

This went on for months. He would try and get you to dance with him whenever you visited the company but he would get no further than a few turns. 

Riwoo told the rest of the members about how he felt about your reluctance. He understood that he couldn’t force you to do anything, but you were always willing to join in when the boys were messing around. Then when it was just the two of you, you stayed firmly on the floor content with just watching. The boys tried to help, Sungho suggested that maybe you just wanted to watch Riwoo in his element rather than trying to interrupt and Leehan added that maybe you just didn’t feel comfortable dancing with Riwoo because he was so advanced.

The boy's suggestions resonated with him. Riwoo chose to drop the topic of dancing together for a while but the want never left. He still wanted to twirl you around whenever you wore something that swirled around as you moved. He wanted to slow dance to a cheesy love song and picture you on your wedding day. He grew almost obsessed with the idea but he chose to leave it be not wanting you to feel uncomfortable.

During all this, opposite schedules meant you couldn’t see each other. It was admittedly painful to not see your love for almost a month but you had been in this situation before and knew how to deal with it.

The day that you guys could see each other you decided that it would be a calm night with some drinks. A nice night in where you can just relax and enjoy each other's company after so long. It was a lovely time, you swapped stories from the time that you had been apart.

As the soft melody of the music played in the background, your conversation ended and filled the room with a comfortable silence. It was a few minutes before Billy Joel’s “She’s Always a Woman” filled the air around you. You let the first verse fully play as you just looked at the boy sitting next to you. 

As the song continues you realise you have the perfect opportunity to do what you’ve always wanted to. That's the thing you see, while Riwoo had wanted to twirl you around like on your wedding day, you wanted the same thing. You had fallen head over heels for the boy beside you and you wanted so desperately to sway in his arms.

Whether it was the few drinks in your system or the overwhelming feeling of love, something made you ask the few words that would bring the boy so much happiness.

Putting your glass down and sitting up you looked him in the eyes and asked “Do you want to dance with me?”

The smile that erupted across his face was more than enough to answer your question. No further words were exchanged as he placed his own glass to the side.

He took your hands and led you to the centre of your living room. There was no timings, no choreography to learn, it was simply holding you in his arms and swaying side to side. It would take until your wedding for Riwoo to admit that this was the first time he realised what he had said since the beginning that  “Everyone can dance” wasn’t wrong but the way he viewed it was.

Before that moment you shared in the living room Riwoo was convinced that to dance was to find joy in a choreography, it was that satisfying moment when you finally got the timings right. Yet the moment where he truly found the most joy in dancing was when Billy Joel gently played and you placed your head against his chest. Riwoo had always found happiness in dancing and that happiness was only tripled when he had you in his arms.

Does Taesan later claim credit for this revelation because he introduced you to the song? Of course; but he didn’t complain as he, and the rest of the members, watched you recreate that moment for your first dance.

[tewwor]

general wishlist & interaction kickoff .

* will be adding / rbing this as i go — yes, i know this is an extensive list ( thank you for taking the time to glance over it! ) likes will be taken as interest for me to jingle my way over and yap about what specific point(s) interest you!

MINSOO .

more undercover plots and/or situations where he has to actively work with someone ( he may not initially like ) to achieve a common goal.

hey, someone talk to him about why he's so into folks that are mean. maybe even ... break through his constant observation of another's intentions and have him trust fully — idk i just think it'd be good for him maybe.

instances where he intercepts and takes a devastating blow that should've been for your muse. he shouldn't transmute himself anymore to heal either, so ...

situationships / one night stands that turn into something more :o)

alternatively, enemies to friends and/or lovers :o) he can be narsty when he wants to be

NANA .

someone take care of him. be it when he's sick or anytime post-canon where he has a long road of recovery ahead of him.

more threads in his villain verse. i know i'm a bit slower with these, but i promise the plots will be juicy.

i also need more threads in his vampire verse. if you want some tension — look no further. also all of my vampires default to a numbing / paralytic venom / able to be out in the sun / has magical attributes that align with their main canon power(s) / has both top and bottom fangs .

run normal, every day errands with him. go grocery shopping. cook with him. sort laundry. pick out new plants for him to buy and care for.

get him to retire post-canon. he's going to try and continue to work as a sorcerer. while it is possible for him to reach the same level of efficiency as before, the learning curve is steep and who knows if he'll be able to get the hang of things before being met with another untimely demise. also, he'd do very well as an assistant manager or teacher.

threads that revolve around him dabbling in being a food content creator. while he debates what path to go in life, he starts to make cooking videos — mostly to help keep his mind off of things. his face is never shown and he doesn't talk, but his videos gain a lot of traction. the option to go full time that way is also present.

SUHYEON .

detectives / private eyes: could be one of the few that were involved in his murder. it's been closed for a few years, but maybe it left an impact with how harrowing the details were. could be interesting if suhyeon learned about their involvement and see how he reacts.

crime aligned muses: supernatural themes or not, there's a very real possibility that your muse might know / still be in contact with suhyeon's brother, kyong ( who now leads the byun jopok ). this could even open up some avenues pre-death where suhyeon was aligned to inherit everything instead of kyong. also, it's important to note that suhyeon does not harbor any ill will towards his brother despite knowing how his murder had been orchestrated by him. so revenge plots aren't his schtick unless someone else he cares about is involved.

aslan vc 'ride me' except it's 'wield me'. someone form a contract with this goober so he can shut up and quit eating other blades out of spite.

USAMI .

requesting someone stubborn enough to stick around despite how god awful he is during the binding vow or implanted tracker/trigger days. doesn't even have to be an active thing either. just knowing / occasionally interacting with him to then contrast how he acts once the higher ups are killed ... i just need folks to understand the burden of his suffering and maybe offer a hand when he's convinced he needs to shoulder everything himself.

more mission threads. doesn't matter the timeline, i love writing action and the nuances of his technique.

more threads in his uwabami verse. he's just a giant snake yokai that likes to eat ( and gets wrongfully pinned for causing so much chaos when it's really not his fault ). totally cool and normal and fine — you get to interact with a lil' snake?

crime muses: haven't written anything in this verse yet! there's a lot of potential for usami to work against other orgs, though. perhaps even work together under a strained alliance.

more interactions in his curse verse. either as someone that actually helps him grow past being a curse womb ( just a tiny snake that eats a bunch of people ), or general interactions of seeing a once sorcerer & potentially hearing his truth for once.

[snetofed]

Brotherhood of friends

La Sala Común de Slytherin estaba medio vacía. Velas verdes titilaban en las paredes de piedra, y el fuego de la chimenea proyectaba sombras doradas sobre el suelo.

Draco was sprawled in an armchair, holding a glass of pumpkin juice that looked more expensive than necessary. Theodore was sprawled face down on a rug, idly flipping through a book he clearly wasn't reading. Lorenzo, in one of the chairs, twirled his wand between his fingers. And Mattheo, of course, was standing with his boots on the table, chewing on a broken quill.

"So," Lorenzo said with a crooked smile, "are you going to deign to tell us what happened last night in the East Wing corridor, or do I have to go ask Peeves?"

Mattheo raised an eyebrow.

"Since when have you been interested in my love life?"

"Since you stopped hiding like a bat when you like someone," Theo replied without looking up. Your thing with her is already more obvious than Draco's ego.

"Eh," Draco protested, still drinking, "my ego has valid reasons for existing."

"Of course it does, Your Platinum Highness," Lorenzo mocked. "Back to you, Riddle. Did you kiss her or not?"

Mattheo smiled with infuriating slowness.

"Maybe."

"Maybe!" Theo repeated, dropping the book. "Riddle, by Salazar! What kind of answer is that?!"

"One that keeps them guessing."

Draco snorted, crossing his legs with an air of dramatic annoyance.

"They know Mattheo won't admit it. The day he does, the castle will come tumbling down."

"Better yet," Lorenzo added, "the day he truly falls in love, he'll probably freak out, run away, and end up writing poetry at two in the morning."

Mattheo threw his quill to Lorenzo, who caught it in midair, laughing.

"You write poetry," Mattheo reminded him with a half-smile. "Awful, by the way."

"I don't sign it 'Night Soul, Bleeding Pain'!"

"That line was experimental!" Lorenzo protested.

"Did you experiment with cringe?" Theo mocked.

"Shut up, you cried with the third verse!"

Everyone burst out laughing.

Draco put his hand to his forehead.

"Merlin… How come we're all alive and haven't destroyed this house yet with such stupidity?"

"Because we love each other in secret," Mattheo said with a serious expression, before smiling with a dangerous spark in his eyes.

Theo was silent for a second.

"I don't like you, but you make me laugh. It's a dilemma."

"Like your face," Draco added, taking a sip from his glass.

And everyone laughed again.

In the Slytherin Common Room, for one night, there were no plots, no jealousy, no masks. Just friendship, sarcasm… and the kind of laughter that hurts in the stomach but heals the soul.