#ARTICLE HAS FINALE SPOILERS

[bi-disaster-kit-herondale]

and they’re so right for this i can’t lie

link

[rootsmachine]

liv hewson via teen vogue

[hawkinslibrary]

there's a new article out about the play. i think it's paywalled for people outside of the us, so here's a twitter thread with screenshots. i've also typed it all out under the cut here:

LONDON – Next month, the Upside Down extends its tentacles into London’s West End with “Stranger Things: The First Shadow,” a prequel stage production that expands the world of Netflix’s sci-fi/horror blockbuster. 

And the creative team behind it hopes the play will be as groundbreaking as the series itself.  

“We’re about to bring the actors, who’ve just been in this cocoon of a rehearsal room for seven weeks, into [the theater],” producer Sonia Friedman says of “The First Shadow,” which is set to open Noc. 17 at the Phoenix Theatre. “We’ve been making sure it can stand alone without the special effects, because it’s all about story. We are going to blow people’s minds. We are going to terrify with some of the most startling, extraordinary things with the physical production.” 

The project originated with director Stephen Daldry, who approached Netflix’s then-content chief Cindy Holland after the show’s first season aired.  

“One of the conversations Stephen and I had been having was, ‘What theater have we ever seen where you get genuinely scared?’” Daldry’s co-director Justin Martin says. “It was an interesting challenge and provocation. We talked about other [Netflix] titles, but this one felt like the most imaginative and the most challenging to try and find a stage language for.” 

“The goal was to figure out, what does a mega episode of ‘Stranger Things’ look like on stage?” adds Matt Duffer, who created the series with brother Ross. “It was a very long, multi-year process to figure that out. But where they’ve landed is incredibly exciting.” 

For the Duffers, the idea of expanding the “Stranger Things” universe in new forms was an exciting prospect. They're currently working on several spinoff shows, including a children’s animated series and an anime series. The play exists on its own, but it also informs the narrative and characters fans know.  

“The idea was to explore Henry Creel and his backstory and fill in a gap that we don’t explore in Season 4,” Ross Duffer says of the villain also known as Vecna. “The play was being developed simultaneously with us writing Season 4 so we were adjusting as we went. It was an interesting way to develop a story, but to do it concurrently like that made sure everything locks in mythology-wise.” 

Development on “The First Shadow” began during Season 2. Daldry approached Friedman after seeing the magic and spectacle in her company’s production of “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child” at London’s Palace Theatre. The creative team spent time brainstorming the story during the early months of the pandemic with screenwriter Jack Thorne, but eventually decided they needed someone who knew the series intimately. 

Kate Trefry, a writer on “Stranger Things” since Season 2, was an obvious choice for Daldry, despite the fact that she’d never written a play before.  

“Season 2 is really when we started to expand this world and mythology,” Ross Duffer says. “So Kate knows that as well as us. She's been with us in the trenches for so many years that we were so happy that she had this opportunity to do this.” 

From early on, no one wanted to simply remake the first season. Daldry wanted the story to be what Martin calls “in the center of the conversation,” rather than a secondary narrative, so a prequel made the most sense. 

“When we met with Stephen we had just cracked this Henry Creel stuff in the writers room,” Ross Duffer says. “We said, ‘Well there might be an opening here.’ And Stephen really fell in love with it.” 

“There are questions of ‘Why Hawkins?’ and ‘How did all this stuff happen?’” Martin adds, referring to the show’s fictional Indiana town, which becomes a hotbed of supernatural activity. “This felt like a good way to address that.”  

“The First Shadow,” set in Hawkins in 1959, is told over two chapters. Several familiar characters appear, including Bob Newby, Joyce Maldonado and Jim Hopper, who are in their last year of high school when a new student named Henry Creel arrives. Nearby, Dr. Brenner is getting his start in his lab. There are also new characters, like Bob’s sister Patty Newby. Trefry calls it an ensemble play with Henry Creel as the “spine” of the story. Beyond that, everyone involved is as tight-lipped about the plot as they are about the forthcoming grand finale of the Netflix original. 

“It’s about outsider kids who come together to solve a mystery,” Martin says. “And in doing so find themselves and each other. That's really ultimately what ‘Stranger Things’” does so well and why so many people connect with it.” 

Trefry adds that it’s also “about the loss of innocence and coming of age and how you are changed and ruined and saved by these formative events that happened in high school.” 

“So, hopefully, you’ll see that Hopper and Joyce and Bob are all presenting echoes of the trauma that is at the center of this play,” she says. 

In the first season of “Stranger Things,” Joyce, Bob and Hopper seem surprised by what’s going on in Hawkins. But Trefry confirms there’s an explanation for why they don’t immediately connect it to their high school years.  

“The climactic events that happen within these two stage episodes had to be something that could be written off as not magical or science fiction,” she says. “It had to be spectacular and make sense, but we had to go forward in honesty with our characters.” 

As a TV series, “Stranger Things” has a recognizable aesthetic. The Upside Down and its monsters are familiar to viewers, so a stage version needed to incorporates similar visuals.  

Because Trefry had never written a play, she didn’t worry about whether certain effects or scenes would be possible, which upped the ante for everyone included.  

“She cross-cut scenes as she would in the show and wrote crazy visual effects sequences as she would in the show,” Matt Duffer says. “She wasn’t limited by that because it then just presented a challenge for Stephen to solve, which is fun. The opening sequence of the play -- I don’t think anyone even knew if it was possible. I'm still not sure how they’re doing it.” 

Friedman and Daldry put together a notably skilled creative team. Friedman set the bar high from the outset, telling them, “I need to be taken to a new dimension of what is possible with theater.” 

That team includes illusions design and visual effects artists Jamie Harrison and Chris Fisher, who are responsible for the onstage magic in “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child.” Harrison and Fisher spent nearly a year coming up with the effects in “The First Shadow” and have continues perfecting things during rehearsals. 

“It’s very pressurized because there is nothing worse than a bad effect because the audience knows straight away,” Harrison says. “We have to go through quite a lot of watching our work be quite bumpy before it gets smooth. And we have to bring the actors from zero magic skill to being very expert in a condensed period of time.” 

“When you have the world of ‘Stranger Things,’ people know it,” Fisher adds. “They have those big sequences, so we naturally are creating big sequences. We’ve pushed it and I think by us pushing, the directors and Kate have pushed us even more and said, ‘Now we know you can do that, we want this.’” 

As a series “Stranger Things” relies on CGI alongside practical effects, but onstage everything has to be done for real. 59 Productions are creating the video design and visual effects for the play, which will work in tandem with the illusions and Miriam Buether’s set design. Harrison says that “anything that can be achieved in film can be achieved in theater.” 

“In film, people want absolute reality,” Harrison says. “For the effects to be visually real. In the theater, we have a level of imagination that we can use as well. For example, in the piece we’re creating there are a lot more blood and guts.” 

Trefry adds that the stage show is genuinely terrifying. “It’s scary like ‘Stranger Things’ is scary,” she says. “There’s a little bit of like guts and gore, and then there’s also real trauma – people dealing with real stuff.” 

Other elements of the production will hint at the series as well. For instance, Harrison and Fisher met with the creature designer from the series during their design process to ensure “visual continuity,” although they won’t say which creatures appear in the play. And D.J. Walde’s original music recreates the familiar synth theme song with a theremin that matches the late 1950s setting.  

For the Duffers, bringing the “Stranger Things” universe to life on stage satisfies their love of practical effects.  

“The downside of CGI is that the audience is conditioned to the fact that we can basically do anything,” Matt Duffer says. “But there’s something about seeing it actually done. When I saw ‘Cursed Child,’ my jaw was dropping in a way it rarely does now with these big movies. We want to do the same here.” 

Because Trefry wrote the play while Season 4 was in development, the series’ writers were able to retrofit elements of that season to reflect the stage show. The events of the play will also help to “enrich” Season 5, Matt Duffer says.  

“There’s a ton of conversation and dialogue between this play and the events that happen in Season 5,” Trefry says of the final season, which is over halfway written. “It was about trying to create something that is canon, but where you don’t have to see it to see Season 5. But if you do see it, it’ll make Season 5 better.” 

“There are hints of where [the show] is going to go,” Ross Duffer adds. “I think when [Season] 5 comes together, all of those pieces will hopefully click.” 

“The First Shadow” tickets are currently on sale through Aug. 25, 2024, although Friedman confirms the case signed one-year contracts and the production is open-ended. The plan is to bring the play to Broadway and the rest of the U.S. as soon as possible.  

“Hopefully it can get to as many places as it can so as many fans as possible can experience it,” Matt Duffer says. “That’s one thing we’re trying to figure out: How do we make sure people are able to see it before Season 5 releases?” 

“The First Shadow” marks the beginning of a broader universe for “Stranger Things.” The Duffers say they can’t “focus on the spinoffs until we’re landed the plan with Season 5,” but so far they’ve enjoyed letting other artists re-imagine their ideas. 

“This was originally pitched as a standalone story and so to be here now is surreal,” Ross Duffer says. “But this has been the most rewarding experience for us creatively." 

[firingstars]

love, persevering [one-shot]

thunderbolts!bucky x agent!reader

summary: grief, trauma, and a broken heart is an unstable platform for a relationship to thrive on, and neither you nor bucky ever made it clear what your relationship actually was.

warnings: 18+, mdni, smut, rough/angry sex, angst, hurt, panic attacks, anxiety, misunderstandings, yearning, comfort, shame rooms, depictions of violence and death, thunderbolts semi movie spoilers, timeline is set from end of civil war to thunderbolts, happy ending

word count: 11.5k

a/n: good luck to everyone who reads this!!!

masterlist

・・・・・ Queens, New York; 2023

“This is what you fucking wanted from me, right?” Bucky grunted from behind you, but you can’t speak. 

You have a million things you want to say to him, but none of them are right. Bucky wouldn’t listen to you even if you tried to explain. 

You’re shoved into the pillow beneath you, only moans ripping from your throat— the only sound that you can produce in response to his question. 

The only other noise between the two of you is the sound of skin slapping against skin as he pounds you from behind. The grip he has on your hips is bruising, and not in the way you usually enjoy it. 

He’s mad, and it’s your fault. 

“I asked you a question. Answer.”

His hand comes down on your ass, smacking it so hard you can’t help but moan, knowing that he left a mark on your body that will last. Your body will always react to him, even when you know you’re in the wrong— when you know you should be apologizing. When you know the last thing the two of you should be doing right now is fucking. 

You can’t help it. Your body will always call for him, always yearn for him, sing when his fingers touch you. 

“No— No,” you finally managed to choke out, tears brimming in your eyes. 

You’re not crying because you don’t want him. Not because he’s hurting you. Not because it’s too rough. You’re crying at the realization. 

You know this is the last time. 

This will be the last time you’ll feel his cock so deep inside you— the delicious angle of it dragging up and down that sweet spot inside you that he always hits so perfectly. You know you won’t be able to feel his hands all over your body again. He won’t give you a second chance, not after this. Not after the conversation you just had. 

Despite it all, you can’t find it in you to tell him to stop. The pace he has on you is punishing, and you feel guilty for even finding some sort of pleasure in how he’s taking you. 

This will be the last time that you'll have him near you. This is the last time that he will stand your presence, to even look at you with the last remaining patience left in his body. This is the final time that you will be able to have him, in any sort of way. He'll walk away from you. You'll be alone after this, after he's done.

You know deep down he would stop if you told him to. He would never disrespect you like that. No matter how angry or hurt he is, he would never do anything to hurt you. You saw it in his eyes before he took your clothes off— the chance to back out. You were the one to remove the first article of fabric, to give him the outlet that he was craving for. 

“No?” he echoed, sarcasm dripping in his voice. “You’re a fucking liar.”

Your fingers curl around the pillow and sheets beneath you for purchase— something to hold onto. He’s fucking into you so deep, barely leaving the tip of his cock in before sinking all the way back in without any hesitation. There’s no break.

Bucky rarely had you on your stomach. It’s his least favorite position, he said. He despised the fact he couldn’t see your face. He wanted to see every single emotion of pleasure he brought to you. Bucky hated that you were easily able to hide every single moan and whimper when he took you from behind.

There’s no connection, he told you one night as you laid in his arms. He whispered it to you like it was a secret as he ran his hands through your hair. He liked holding you against him, enjoyed the fact he could have easy access to your lips, and lock eyes with you. 

Yet, he put you like this from the beginning. 

Bucky was radiating an intense amount of heat, but you had never felt so cold. You were freezing in this room, even though you were both panting and sweating against each other. 

Your heart was shattering with each thrust of his hips. You’re craving him. Some sort of intimacy. You want him to hold you, even though you know you messed up. Just something for you to hold onto for the night before he disappears forever.

You know he’s close to the edge. You know his tells like the back of your hand. His thrusts are getting messier. Less rhythmic. His breathing is growing shallower, moans are becoming lower. There’s a slight tremble in his body against yours every time he connects with you, and his fingers are digging into your flesh to keep you in place right where he wants you. 

You weakly try pushing yourself on your elbows, tears finally slipping down your face. Tears that you weren’t brave enough to let fall during your conversation earlier. Tears that you knew would take forever to dry up when he finally left you.

“Bucky,” you whimpered, your voice coming out broken and raw, “Bucky— Kiss, please—“

A vibranium hand is roughly tangled in your short hair, shoving your head back into the pillows underneath you.

“Shut the fuck up,” he moaned, hips stuttering. 

You feel the familiar warmth of his release coat your walls in thick spurts. Bucky’s body shudders behind you, but he doesn’t blanket you like he usually does after he cums. No— he forces himself to pull out of you, leaving you cold, empty, used. 

Your heart is still racing as you slowly push yourself up. You can feel the remnants of him leaking out of you as you listen to the rustling sound of Bucky beginning to dress himself. 

“You don’t get to cry now,” Bucky muttered.

You pull your bottom lip in between your teeth to stop yourself from making any noise. You turn your head to look at him, watching him pull his pants over his hips. His back is turned to you. You can see his face through the vanity. 

“Bucky,” you whispered, a breath escaping your lips. “Please. I’m sorry—“

“You’re sorry because you were caught,” he cut you off, looking at you through the mirror. “Not because you actually regret anything.”

“Buck, please. Just hear me out,” you pleaded. 

“You don’t get to call me that,” he hissed at you, roughly grabbing his jacket from where it was discarded on the edge of the bed. “I don’t ever want to see your fucking face again, do you hear me? You disgust me.”

Your lips parted, silent tears dripping down and staining the bed sheets beneath you. You can’t breathe. You can only watch him as he moves towards the door to your bedroom. 

“Do you mean that?” you manage to force out as his hand touches the door knob. Your voice cracked, thick with emotion.

Bucky hesitates, for just a moment. He still hadn’t turned to face you. You watched as his shoulders square off, his body becoming guarded against you. . 

“I meant what I said earlier. You’re no better than H.Y.D.R.A..”

You’re left on your bed, naked, alone, with silent tears streaming down your face. Your body is cold, even though he was just here with you moments ago. Your ears are still ringing with the echoing sound of the front door of the apartment slamming shut with his final exit. 

・・・・・ Wakanda; 2016–2018

The room is below freezing. As a breath escapes your lips, you can see a cloud form before your face. You shook your head in disapproval, rubbing your arms as you went to turn up the thermostat. 

“Bucky?” you called out, watching the numbers hit a comfortable 73 degrees in the room. “Did you eat all your food? Was it enough? Do you want more?”

As per usual, the soldier doesn’t answer you. You always try anyway– you hope that the day will come that he’ll talk to you. You let out a sigh as you move throughout the room. He’s not at the table, but neither is his plate. Your eyebrows furrowed.

Usually, you have to go towards him and badger him to try to eat a little bit more. You have to tell him that it’s okay to eat. He barely eats as it is, and you’re not sure if it’s because he doesn’t think it’s okay to eat or if he’s trying to hoard the food for another day.

Your eyes fall on him in the corner of the room. He’s purposely making himself look smaller as he picks at pieces of the food in front of him. Yet, you see he’s not even touching the walls with his body. Like he’s almost afraid to take space.

You take a few steps, experimental. His eyes flicker to you, and you stop in your place.

“You know you can eat at the table, right?” you asked, voice soft.

He gives you one single nod. 

“You don’t want to?” you guessed. 

There’s no gesture of a response this time, but you can assume his answer from his silence. You sighed once more, and moved again. You tried to ignore the way his body stiffened as you came closer to him– a stranger– and took a seat beside him, back pressed against the wall, but there was enough space between the two of you so he could still breathe.

You picked up the least appetizing food on the plate, the small loaf of bread, and broke it in half.

“By the time I finish eating my half, you better be finished eating your food otherwise I’m telling Steve and Sam to come back early from their mission in Osaka to yell at you,” you warned him, putting the other portion of the bread down on the plate. 

You keep your eyes off of him, giving him the privacy he may or may not need to eat his lunch. You take small nibbles on your bread, eating slowly on purpose. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him finally move. He takes bigger bites than you. 

“Why aren’t you in Osaka?” he spoke. 

You’re shocked, but you try not to let it show. You give Bucky a smile, then gesture towards your body.

“I’m still injured from Berlin. King T'Challa did a big number on me when I tried to stop him from getting to the Quinjet, remember? Stevie won’t let me be deployed right now. Besides, I don't think our gracious King would let me leave Wakanda until I was fully healed anyways.”

“You’ve worked with Steve for a while?” Bucky asked. He sounded hesitant. Almost afraid of you. It made sense. You were a stranger to him, yet Steve dropped you off to take care of him without any explanation.

"I rehabbed Steve," you shrugged. "When he came out of the ice, I brought him up to speed with the new world around him. I was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, not an Avenger, but S.H.I.E.L.D. went to shit so I just... did some odd jobs for a bit. Steve asked me for help when the Avengers went to shit… and since I’m on the run for helping him, and have nothing better to do, I figured I might as well rehab you, too."

“Why?”

You turned your head to look at him, finding that he’s already looking at you. You give him a smile, leaning your head back against the wall.

“I was given a second chance in life,” you tell him. “You deserve one, too. And a third. And a fourth. I’ll give you as many chances as you need, so don’t stress out too much, Buck. Life is good. When you’re well, I’ll take you to my favorite bakery in New York.”

Bucky’s looking at you with confusion in his eyes. There’s a mixture of disbelief and distrust as well, but you don’t blame him. Steve gave you the full rundown on Bucky’s entire past. There’s nothing that you don’t know about the man.

You know every detail. The nitty, gritty, gory details that you know Bucky wouldn't tell you himself. You read the files yourself. Steve gave you the option to back out, and he said there would be no judgement if you thought you wouldn't be able to handle the amount of trauma that Bucky had.

You gave Steve a smile, and said that Bucky would be in good hands, and Steve could do what he needed out in the world.

You stay by Bucky's side the entire time, giving him the space that he silently requests for. You don't push when he pulls away from you. You don't question where he stops answering. You simply give him the options that he never had before.

And it seems to confuse him all the more.

“Why do you try so hard for me?” Bucky asked again. A longer, fuller sentence this time, but he was still asking the same thing he did before. 

You were sitting in his room. It wasn’t a mealtime. You were here of your own volition, with your computer in your lap. You were doing some background work for Steve and Sam, feeding them information while they were on the field. 

Bucky was watching you from his place on the ground. He still wasn’t comfortable enough to use his bed— so you made him a cot on the floor. Just a simple spread of two blankets, and one pillow. He started using it after two weeks. 

You lowered your laptop screen, looking at him. 

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” you asked, flipping the script on him.

You watched as his face contorted with surprise. Bucky’s lips parted, eyebrows furrowing. His mouth closed as he took in a deep breath, and swallowed thickly. 

“I’m not a good person,” he said, his voice thick. 

“Neither am I,” you replied, smiling at him. “I think the only good person amongst us is Steve. Sam, too. But that’s a bit of a debatable fact.”

Bucky’s lip twitched slightly in what almost became a smile, and you mentally celebrated the improvement. The flicker of new emotion, even if it was subtle and brief. 

“I’m sure I’ve done worse than you,” he said after a few moments, looking down at his hand. He clenched his fist opened and closed, and you were sure he was reliving some sort of memory or nightmare in the few seconds that passed between you two.

You shrugged. “It’s all relative. I’ve committed horrors that some people will never be able to forgive. That I won’t be able to forgive myself for. But that doesn’t mean others can’t forgive you.”

Bucky stayed silent for the rest of the day, and you’re sure he’s thinking about your words until late in the night.

The next morning, you exit your room to find him standing in your hall. He doesn’t say a word, but he follows you as you go on your early morning walk.

From there, the two of you spend more time together. Bucky started to seek you out on his own, looking for you when you don’t come to him first. 

In the beginning,  your time together is spent in silence. 

Your walks turn into full on hikes with the healing soldier. The only noise between you two is the nature of the native animals of Wakanda. You two sat together on cliffs, looking over the city as you would eat breakfast that you had stolen from the kitchen before you left on your walk. You both keep walking through the plains without any sort of plan or route— and you often get lost. 

When it’s time to head back to the palace, it’s Bucky that takes you by the hand and leads you towards the right path. 

Bucky started to eat meals with you at the table. Not just snacking, but full meals. The first time he asked you if there was more food in the kitchens, you jumped to your feet, and ran down the hall with tears in your eyes. 

You ate seconds with him, silent tears streaming down your face. Bucky let out the first laugh you’d ever heard from him during that meal. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked.

“Shut the fuck up and eat!” you sniffled, wiping away your tears quickly. 

Bucky would watch you train with the Dora Milaje once Shuri cleared you of your injury. He watched you get your ass handed to you multiple times over as you tried to get your footing against these warriors, raising an eyebrow at you when you returned to him with bruises and scrapes. 

“Don’t laugh,” you muttered as he handed you an ice pack. 

“Well, they’re not holding back on you, and the worst you’re getting is a bruise,” he said.

“Why do you sound impressed? Are you messing with me right now?” you accused, digging your fingers into a developing knot in your shoulder. 

“I am impressed,” he told you, making you stop and look at him with suspicion. “I didn’t really see you fight in Berlin. I understand why Steve asked you for help.”

Bucky would give you pointers with just the two of you alone. Even with just one arm, Bucky was a force to be reckoned with. He was itching to move, and he was more than happy to help you out. 

There weren't many places where you needed help, he said. You were simply out of practice from the injuries you sustained. You also had small tells that he noticed— things that you were shocked he caught onto. Bucky taught you how to fix those tells so no one would be able to use them against you again. Your sparring matches with the Dora Milaje got longer, harder— and you gained their respect almost overnight thanks to Bucky.

You still couldn’t believe Bucky’s sharp eyes when it came to your movements. The last person who noticed your weaknesses was your sister, who studied your moves like her life depended on it. 

Because it did. For her, at least. 

The first time you left on a mission, you didn’t tell Bucky. It slipped your mind. Steve came into your room in the middle of the night, waking you up. You didn’t even know he returned, but he and Sam needed you. You barely had a chance to brush your teeth before you were shoving your body into your gear, meeting them at the launchpads to leave. 

You received a high pitched static through your earpiece barely an hour on the field. You almost thought the mission was compromised, and all three of you were royally fucked. Well, you were compromised. You were just lucky it wasn’t anyone that wanted to harm you. 

“You didn’t tell me you were leaving,” he said, voice distorted slightly from wherever he had hijacked the frequency from. 

“Bucky?! What the hell—“

“Why didn’t you say you were leaving?” he cut you off. 

“Why are you on my channel right now?” you hissed, trying to keep your voice low and avoid raising attention to yourselves. 

“When will you be back?” 

You paused. Even through the distortion, you could hear it. The vulnerability thick in his voice. 

“Four days,” you answered. 

“I’ll wait three.”

The static finally cleared the comms, and Steve and Sam raised an eyebrow at you. They all heard it. You were in as much disbelief as they were. 

When you returned in two and a half days, you brought a digital calendar for his room. You started marking down your mission dates the second you heard you would be out, and would update it remotely if something ever changed. You didn’t want Bucky to panic on you again.

You watched as Wakanda healed Bucky in a way that you didn’t know was possible. Two years in this place brought peace to a man who knew seventy years of war. 

You were able to see as a smile would slowly grow on his face, as he began to talk more on his own. As the title of White Wolf was bestowed upon him by the Wakandans.

You enjoyed festivals with Bucky many times over. You dragged him down the streets of Wakanda, the two of you wide eyed and completely innocent to the culture around you. Both of you would dress in cultural garb, gifted to you by Shuri and T'Challa so you would blend in with the crowds around you. You would stay out late into the night, sometimes until the sun rose into the next day.

You would share different foods together. By this point, the locals all knew the two of you. They would give you discounts upon discounts for foods and different items of wares, or forego charging you all together. They would joke for you to tell the King about their shops in exchange for their services.

Bucky would watch as you would get your hair braided by the local girls in the village during these festivals, sitting beside you as flowers were woven into your hair. 

“It’s a shame,” he murmured, touching your hair as you walked away from the girls. 

“What is?” you asked, hands clasped behind your back.

“Your hair would be prettier like this if it was longer,” he told you, his hand dropping to his side. 

You paused, trying to push away the pounding feeling in your chest. You looked away from him— ignoring the look of contentment and peace on his features. He looked so happy at that moment. 

“I cut it for missions,” you murmured. 

“That’s why it’s a shame,” he said, nodding. “You’d look nice with longer hair.”

From that point, Bucky started picking flowers during your morning walks together. He would present them to you, and you would carry them with you. 

You don't remember when it happened, but Bucky stopped handing you flowers. He began to put them directly into your hair with a small smile on his face. If there was another flower that caught his eye during your hike, he would add it to your hair. If any of the flowers began to slip, he would stop you and adjust them before you both continued onwards. 

You had an entire drawer of dried flowers saved from your walks together. Preserved in time, each one carrying more emotion than the other. Each flower contained a different memory of him. 

A memory of not just someone you were helping out because Steve asked you to, but someone you considered as your friend. Someone that relied on you for guidance and support. Someone that you turned to for assistance when you couldn’t ask Ayo for help. Someone that you went to because you simply felt like it. Someone you wanted to spend time with because you enjoyed his presence. 

Someone that you felt guilty for falling in love with. 

Bucky was a man that was healing. 

Falling in love with him now— taking advantage of him at his most vulnerable would be fucking shameful of you. You wouldn’t let your emotions show, you wouldn’t let him know. You didn’t want to cloud his judgement as he was finally getting a grasp on who he was as a person, as he was finally gaining autonomy over himself. 

You hid your heart under your sleeve, continuing to spend your days with him with chains and locks tightly guarding the feelings that you desperately wanted to let free. You wouldn’t allow them to come out. 

Not when Bucky finally knew peace, not when he finally felt okay with himself. You wouldn’t throw a curveball in his direction, and betray him. You wanted him to view you as someone safe, someone he could trust. You didn’t want him to think you expected anything from him.

If the timing was right, if he had ever expressed interest on his own— maybe. Just maybe, you would allow yourself to melt into his embrace. Only if he made the move first, if he decided that he wanted it. Wanted you. 

You never got the chance to find out. 

The Outrider soldier you were fighting with had just vanished into nothing before you. Dread filled your stomach, and you turned to sprint across the battlefield. You needed to be sure. Terror was clawing at your every sense.

You ignored the deep gash in your torso, white, hot pain burning through your body. It didn’t matter right now. Bucky met your gaze. 

Bucky, who was disintegrating before your eyes. Bucky, who was staring at you with wide eyes. You could feel everything. You saw the panic on his face, the fear. 

Then, he was gone. 

Steve wrapped his arms around you before you could fall to your knees at Bucky’s ashes, his body shaking as if he was afraid that you would disappear next. 

You both sat there, trembling. Hearts racing, the two of you watched as dust began to float around you in the wind. 

・・・・・ Present, 2027

“Wake up!” Yelena hissed at you, hitting your leg with her foot. 

Your eyebrows furrowed as your face twisted with discomfort. Your head was pounding. Not just from the explosion, but from everything that came before that. The guards that filtered through the vault. Having to climb up an elevator shaft with strangers that you had attempted to kill moments prior. The sonic cannon that assaulted your ears. The impending doom of almost being incinerated. The strange battle between assassins and soldiers that had varying targets.

You forced your eyes open, momentarily discombobulated as you took in the scene around you. Your hands shoved into the cement beneath you before you took a sitting position. Your vision steadied after a few moments, and you froze. 

You looked down at yourself, then at the others. The rope that had been used to ‘tie’ you up was so loose that you could just slip out of it. The others were tied together tightly, wrists bound. Alexei was even secured with a metal pipe. 

“Bucky, do you really think putting a piece of string around her body was really enough?” John sarcastically asked.

Suddenly, you remembered what even put you in this position in the first place. 

He blew up your fucking get away car.

You don’t look at him, keeping your head down. You can feel his eyes on the side of your face, watching you. Waiting to see what you’ll do or say. You won’t do a single thing– not to him, at least. You owe him that much.

“They are both Avengers, that is why! He gives her the respect she is due!” Alexei boomed. 

Your eyes snap at the super soldier, and you give him a single warning look. You shake your head once. He doesn’t seem to understand.

“You fought together during what seemed to be the end of the world, yes? You, especially! With my little Natasha! I saw you on the news a few times.”

“I wasn’t– I’m not an Avenger. Never was,” you grunted.

“Can we talk about something else?” Yelena cut him off. “Like the fact that we need to find Bob?”

You let the others do the speaking, trying to calm down your thundering heart. You couldn’t hear their words. It was being filtered out, muffled by the sound of erratic beating between your ears as you kept your eyes trained on your feet. Even staring at the ground was difficult. Your vision was getting shaky.

When was the last time you were in the same room as Bucky? When was the last time he was this close to you? It had been almost five years at this point, you think. Four years and ten months if you were to be precise. 

Bucky warned you– told you to stay out of his line of sight. Is that why he blew up the fucking limo with the people that you just gained a kinship with?

It was the only reason why you ended up working for Fontaine as one of her fucking agents, doing her dirty work– doing what you did best and getting paid for it. You were a machine for these past handful of years. The perfect soldier, just as you were raised to be. You were certain your parents were singing your praises from the seventh circle in hell. 

Best of all, you could stay out of the light. Just as Bucky told you to do. Out of the light, where he was. Where he was meant to be— just like you always told him he should be. 

This was supposed to be your last mission. You found some cabin in the woods in Oregon that you were going to move to. Remote, out of the way. Something that reminded you of Wakanda without the people and the culture. You had saved enough money, lived frugally enough to be able to live comfortably for the rest of your days. You worked out a plan with Val that if she needed you, you could be pulled back onto the field every once in a while for more expensive hit missions again.

You can only follow everyone else numbly when they start shifting towards the jet that Bucky had brought, and you distinctly hear that you’re heading back to New York. 

In the jet, everyone’s flittering about. 

Alexei’s messing with tech that he’s in awe about seeing, Yelena is whacking his hands away and telling him not to focus before going back to Bucky to help him navigate. 

Walker is going through the rations, muttering about being starving while Ava looks at him with disgust when he offers her some food. She settles for a med kit, deciding to take care of her scrapes and cuts instead. 

You weren’t even tied up, but the walls were closing in on you. Your skin didn’t feel like your own, and your gear was beginning to melt into your body in a way that you couldn’t claw off fast enough. Your heart was outside of your body, and your lungs were in a different continent. 

You clenched your fists, trying to ground yourself as your fingernails dug crescent shaped indents into your palm, but it was to no avail. Your hands weren’t your own. You weren’t seeing through your own eyes. Your body wasn’t yours, and you couldn’t stop the encroaching feeling of helplessness that you desperately tried to pretend wasn’t there.

“Hey.”

Your head snapped up, seeing Ava in front you.

“Are you coming or what?” she asked, eyebrows furrowed at you.

Vaguely, you noticed everyone was already moving outside– and you forced yourself to suck in a breath of air. You could only give her a small nod before moving your weight onto your feet, following her out the jet and towards the tarmac. You didn’t even realize the jet had touched the ground. 

You’re moving to board the back with Ava when Alexei rounds the corner, grinning at you.

“Avengers should catch up!” he said, a hand coming down to your shoulder, pushing you to the carriage. “It is nice to talk with an old buddy!”

“What?” you breathed. “No, Alexei, it’s fine. You’ll be more comfortable sitting up there–”

“Go, sit with your friend!” he exclaimed happily, shoving you to the front. “I will sit back here with my daughter and her friends!”

You barely had any time to protest before Ava closed the doors to the back of the truck, locked it, and phased into the back. You stood out there, the vehicle’s engine coming to life. 

You have no choice. There’s a mission that needs to be done, and one hour of discomfort isn’t a reasonable explanation to put lives in danger. 

You pull open the door, sliding into the seat beside him. Once you’re situated, Bucky finally takes off down the road towards New York. 

You keep your gaze trained out your window, elbow against the door as you cover your mouth and nose with your hand.  You’re trying not to breathe so loud, in fear that he’ll hear you. Hell, you’re not trying to breathe at all. There’s a high chance that he’ll throw you out of a moving vehicle. Blow this truck up, too, if you’re really unlucky. 

You force your body to sit still, even though all you want to do is bounce your leg up and down anxiously. Under your gear, your skin is prickled with goosebumps. You’re still trying to get your body back. It still doesn’t feel like yours. It’s probably left in the vault, incinerated with the rest of Val’s shit. 

Bucky smelled exactly the same as you remembered. Even with you trying not to breathe, even with your palm covering your nose, you can smell him. 

In this enclosed carriage, with the AC running, you were surrounded by the scent of Bucky. The familiar smell of cedarwood mixed with honeyed soap and a hint of coffee. There’s the extra layer of leather and metal that he always carries around with him that you adore, and the underlying nostalgic scent of his natural skin– the heady scent of musk and salty sweat after the theatrics he had pulled on the road hours ago.

Gunpowder clings onto him faintly, and you can feel heat softly radiating from his body– the vibranium arm attached to his left side is still cooling down. It takes longer on hotter days like this. You wonder when the last time he calibrated it, or if he even remembered to get that done. He would always forget. You used to do it for him.

There’s one smell that’s missing.

The scent of you on his skin.

You closed your eyes, pushing the revelation far away from your mind. Your eyes are beginning to sting with unshed tears that you thought had long been cried away. You didn’t think being close to him like this would have this kind of effect on you again.

“Your hair is longer.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat, your eyebrows furrowing. You slowly turn your head to look at him. To really look at him.

You’ve seen him on the news. On your phone, in articles. You would smile to yourself before moving on with your day, happy that he seemed to find his place in the world. But right now— he looked miserable.

The years had seemed to take a toll on him. There were lines on his face that weren’t there before. Slight bags under his eyes that indicated he hadn’t slept well in a while. His skin was duller, less life to them. 

You wonder briefly if it’s because of dealing with the government in the way he is. Politics aren’t an easy feat, but he’s Bucky. You don’t doubt that he’s doing well, that he can manage somehow. He was always the better one between the two of you. 

Bucky’s hair was a bit messy, but you would give him the benefit of the doubt, and say it was from the fact he just rode in on a motorcycle and took down several military vehicles by himself. The dark brown locks are longer, too. Not short, like the way you had cut them in your bathroom in Brooklyn after Steve left. 

How he trusted you with scissors close to his face and neck, and closed his eyes while you carefully took care of him. You even shaved down his beard, and he had stubble for a while. It had all grown out now. 

Yet, Bucky was more handsome than you could recall. 

The years of absence had only made your heart grow fonder for him. You wanted nothing more than to smooth the line between his eyebrows. You wanted to slap a face mask on his face, dose him with melatonin, and ask him why the hell he hadn’t been sleeping. You want to wrap him up with blankets and play with his hair, run your fingers against his scalp, and cradle his face in your hands as you hold him close. 

You don’t tell him that. You don’t have any right to. 

“That’s what happens when you don’t cut it,” is what you said instead.

A smile cracked onto his lips, and a small chuckle rumbled through his body. “You don’t say?”

You take in a breath so slow it doesn’t shake, and return your eyes back to your window. You don’t trust yourself to keep looking at him. Your tears might fall if you do. You swallowed the lump in your throat, and cleared your throat softly. 

“You look good,” Bucky said after a few more moments, breaking the silence once again.

“I was just in a car that got blown up, so I don’t really believe that,” you muttered, fighting the smile that threatened to creep up on your face. 

“I didn’t know you were in there,” he said, almost sounding defensive. 

“If you did, would you have used that disc grenade?” you murmured. 

“Of course not,” he replied immediately. 

You paused, confusion settling deep into your bones. Why not? This man was supposed to hate you. He made that clear when he walked away from you. The words were caught on your throat, a million scenarios racing through your mind as you tried to pick apart your last conversation. You couldn’t make sense of him. 

“I didn’t know you worked for Val,” he said, changing the topic. Then, a deep sigh escaped from his lips. “Well, I didn’t know where you went at all. No one did.”

“You told me to get lost,” you reminded him, your voice so soft you were certain a normal person wouldn’t have been able to hear you. But he wasn’t normal. He was your Bucky, and he was always able to pick up every single shift in your mood. 

“I didn’t—“ he cut himself off, swallowing thickly. “I was mad. I didn’t mean it.”

You’re numb. Your chest hurt. Your sternum was caving in on itself, you think. It had to be. Or your head was finally experiencing some sort of tumor pressing on your brain, and this was your last hallucination before you died.

Bucky wouldn’t say these words to you. There was no reality that you would exist in where he would even tolerate speaking to you again, let alone admit that he took back the words he spat in your face with pure malice. 

“That’s not what you said when you walked away,” you managed to force out. 

“I know what I said.” The grip Bucky had on the steering wheel tightened at the same time his jaw clenched. 

Heavy silence sits like a wall between the two of you. You don’t respond. You don’t know what to say. He continues to drive, not another word leaving his lips. The two of you listen to the muffle conversation from the group in the back, listening to them bond over the weapons they carry on their persons. 

You lean your head against the headrest, closing your eyes tight. You forced air to enter and exit your lungs. 

One more mission. Just one more, and you can leave. Maybe Oregon would be too local— Bucky’s reach would be able to grab you from there. You’ll leave the country as a whole. 

Bucky’s eyes fell on everyone in the attic, heart erratic in his chest. His eyebrows furrowed, taking a quick headcount. He barely whispered out your name, a bit breathless from having to fight his way out to even get to Bob’s room. 

“Where is she?” he asked, everyone turning to him. They’re all still trying to process their own horrors. 

“I— I haven’t seen her yet,” Walker stuttered, still disoriented.

“She’s here?” Bob asked, surprise all over his features. 

“Fuck,” Bucky cursed, turning back towards the mirror that he came from, ignoring the shouts from the group he left behind. “Just wait there!”

Bucky raced back through his rooms, trying to find an entrance towards yours. He ignored his horrors— he’d already made his peace and settled with himself. He knew you still struggled. 

Back in Wakanda, when he finally managed to find his voice, he’d asked you why you spent so much time helping him. You told him that there was no one there to help you. Over time, he learned. 

You opened up to him about your militaristic freak of a family back in Wakanda. You told him about how you were raised in a camp, not a home. 

You grew up with drills that your parents put you through from the second you could walk. You had a gun in your hand the moment your hands were strong enough to grip the metal. 

You were the middle child of three, and the three of you were raised to see each other as competition. You fought each other daily. You were tested and tortured. Whoever was deemed the winner of the day was spared the punishment of your parents. The two losers would be subjected to horrors that you couldn’t even repeat to Bucky. He never asked you to elaborate. 

One day, without warning, your parents dropped you all in the middle of the forest. Another training exercise, you all thought. You were wrong. 

Only one would survive this test— this sick and twisted game. You never told Bucky the details of how you came out the winner, of how everything went down. He knew the aftermath. 

How you killed your own parents out of revenge, grief, anger— and how they both praised you for it. They told you you were perfect. You were the best soldier they raised— that this was the outcome they wanted. That their death was exactly what they planned for. You fell right into their trap without knowing it. 

Bucky finally reached the first room, eyes focused on the woods. He would get the backstory today, it seemed. His eyes fell on you.

You were younger. Your hair was longer than it was right now, braided back into two and reaching down to your hips. You were dressed in camo, face painted to blend in with the woods. You had a sniper rifle strapped to your shoulder, and a pistol in your hand. Your jaw was clenched tight, your breaths slow and even. 

Another dead body lay right beside you— your older brother’s body. He just tried killing your little sister by stabbing her to death with his brute strength. You shot him clean in the head. His eyes were still wide open, his blood soaking into the dirt of the forest beneath him.

You saved your little sister from him, but for what? You two were in a standoff. Both of you, guns drawn, pointed at each other. All for a fucking game. A hunt. All because your parents pit you together because you had the misfortune of being born into this kind of family.

Your little sister was the spitting image of you. Her cheeks were slightly fuller, eyes a bit rounder. She looked a little bit more innocent. 

Her hand was shaking. Her breaths were a bit more shallow than yours. There was a hesitant look in her eyes, and you saw it. You saw the way your sister lowered her gun, just slightly. 

“I can’t do it,” you whispered, a tear sliding down your face and ruining the camouflage paint. Quickly, you shifted your gun to point at your own temple.

Bucky watched as your sister’s eye’s filled with pure panic, fear— and her hand shifted slightly. She raised her gun once more. Her trajectory changed, and two gunshots filled the forest. 

One, to shoot your gun out of your hand. The second, to shoot herself. 

Grief immediately filled your features as a scream ripped through your throat. Birds were disrupted from their hiding places in the trees, rustling out of the leaves and taking to the sky. 

Her body dropped to the forest floor as you rushed to grab her, pressing your hand to her wound as you cried. You were trying to stop the bleeding, even though you knew nothing you did would work. You knew she was dying in your arms.

“No, no, no, no!” you kept repeating, taking the pack off your back to try and find something to help her. 

Your sister grabbed your hands with the last of her strength, stopping you. You both knew your attempts were useless. You both studied the anatomy of the body— she knew exactly where she shot was fatal.

“It’s okay,” she forced out, meeting your eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you babbled to her, cradling her face. “I’m so sorry— I’m sorry—“

“I love you,” she croaked, giving you a smile. 

You only sobbed louder, watching the light die out of her eyes. You collapsed over her body, trembling, and holding her tight against you until her blood stained your bones and mixed into your own. 

And the scene replayed. 

Bucky moved into the next room. He paused— he recognized this room. This was Steve’s apartment. He went through Steve’s things after the last battle, after Steve made his choice. 

The sound of the door opening caught his attention, and he turned. 

“I’m just saying, doll,” Steve said, letting you in first before he followed in behind you, “the movie was good. You’re just not a hopeless romantic.”

“I am a hopeless romantic,” you fired back, taking your shoes off and putting them on the rack. “It just wasn’t realistic. She chose a broke man for what, Steve? Made no sense.”

“She chose the one she loved, baby,” Steve corrected. 

“And he’s broke,” you replied. 

Steve sighed, shaking his head. Still, he had a smile on his face as he watched you. There was pure love in his eyes for you.

You had a bouquet of flowers in your hand that Steve took from you as you shrugged your jacket off. You smiled at him, grateful. When you took the flowers back, you stepped up on your toes to press a kiss onto his lips.

Steve’s hand came around the small of your back, holding you tight against him. Your free hand came around to hold the side of his neck, stabilizing yourself against him. There were smiles on both of your faces. When you parted, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you hummed in happiness. 

Bucky tried to ignore the way his chest tightened at the sight. 

You moved towards the kitchen, looking for a vase as Steve turned on the lights of your shared apartment. A normal night for the two of you. You arranged the flowers beautifully, looking happy with yourself as you placed them at the center of the dining table.

Bucky was momentarily confused. It looked normal enough. What was so shameful about this night? The two of you looked happy. You both got ready for the night, changed into pajamas, and met back onto the couch.

You were cuddled up against his side as he watched TV, scrolling through your phone. His arm was around you, rubbing circles into your hip. 

“You really think you’re a hopeless romantic?” Steve suddenly asked you.

“Why are you bringing this up again?” you asked, a teasing lilt to your voice. You shifted your head to look up at him. 

“I mean… I just don’t see it,” he said softly. “I’m not saying you’re not romantic. I know you love me, but… I can’t help but feel—“

“Steve,” you cut him off, sitting up. His arm slid off of you and he turned to look you in the eyes. “Are we talking about this again? Seriously?”

“We never even really talked about it,” he argued, his voice a bit weak. He knew you were getting upset. “You always dodge the topic. You don’t want to talk about it.”

“Because there’s nothing to talk about!” you exclaimed, putting your phone down to give him your full attention. “I don’t want to argue about what if’s with my boyfriend on our third year anniversary!”

“You don’t even cut your hair anymore,” he said. “Natasha told me that you drunkenly confessed to her one time that you don’t want to cut your hair because he once told you he wanted to see your hair long—“

“Steve, didn’t you hear what I just said to you? I don’t want to argue with you on our anniversary!” you stressed, almost begging him. “Can you please drop it? On any other night, I will talk about this with you. Literally any other night. Just not tonight, please.”

“Tell me the truth,” he said, his voice hard as he ignored your pleas. “If Bucky were still here, would you still be with me? Or would you have chosen him instead?”

“Would you choose me or Peggy if you had the option?” you immediately demanded from him.

Steve’s eyes widened. Your apartment was silent for a few moments, save for the background noise of the television that was forgotten by the two of you. You both stared at each other. Steve in disbelief, you with stubbornness in your eyes. 

“That’s— that’s not fair,” he whispered, swallowing thickly. 

Your exterior cracked instantly. Stubbornness vanished, and your shoulders slumped. You let out a sigh, burying your face in your hands for a moment as you tried to calm yourself down. You were about to cry. 

“You’re right. It’s not,” you admitted, your voice cracking. You lowered your hands, looking him in the eyes once again. “Why don’t you understand me, Steve? I love you so much. I wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t love you. I do. I really do. And— and I know you love her. I have accepted that you will always love her the same way that I will always love him. I loved him in utter silence. From afar. I watched him heal and get better. I loved a broken man that never looked my way and I was okay with that. I made my peace with it. And he’s not coming back. He never fucking will, Steve. I’m trying to move on with my life. Can you stop rubbing it in my face?”

Steve’s staring at you, the weight of your words sinking into his soul. He looks horrible, regret all over his face for even opening up this conversation.

You let out a shaking breath, your chest rising and falling erratically as tears fall from your eyes. You angrily wipe them away, getting up from the couch. 

Steve whispers your name, reaching to grab your wrist, to stop you— to try to comfort you. It comes out pained, but you can’t even look at him. You snatch your hand back from him, making your way to the bedroom you share with Steve, to just get away from him for a moment as more tears continue to fall.

Bucky observes Steve for just a moment, watching his friend bury his face in his hands and let out slow, deep breaths. Then, Bucky moves to follow you.

You’re sitting in front of your vanity, rifling through your drawer. A pair of scissors are in your hands after a moment of searching. You hesitate, for just a moment. Then, you grab a piece of hair, chopping it off above your shoulders as your tears stain your cheeks. 

Bucky forces his feet to walk on, mind racing as he breaks a window into the next room. He knows this place. He instantly recognizes the faint smell of vanilla and flowers. 

His eyes fall onto the glass case of pressed Wakandan flowers that are on the wall, proudly on display. There’s mementos of the Avengers somewhere in your apartment. You have Steve’s art book on the coffee table. Natasha’s widow bites are on the mantle. One of Tony’s first Iron Man helmets are on the shelf. 

Your friends, people that you have loved and lost, all here with you, in your little apartment in Brooklyn. 

And you’re there. Not just the remnants of the past. You.

You’re sitting on the couch of your old Brooklyn apartment in your gear. Your lip is busted from the Sentry throwing you around in the Watchtower not too long ago. There’s a cut above your eyebrow from colliding with John too hard and hitting his gear the wrong way, and maybe a thousand other injuries that he can’t see under the thick material of your tactical gear. 

Your knees are pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around your legs. You look small right now, eyes trained on the movement before you. Unable to tear your gaze away, stuck in the shame and regret of your past. 

And he knows exactly what this night is. 

Bucky doesn’t make a sound as he goes to your side. The couch dips as he takes a seat beside you, eyes on the side of your face. You don’t acknowledge him, don’t even give him the time of day. His chest hurts, but he can’t blame you. 

The stage resets. 

Bucky’s opening your door with a key to your apartment that he’s had for a while now— you have one to his, too. It was for safety at first. Over time, it had turned into easy access to each other for your nightly escapades with each other. 

You jolted at the sudden appearance. You were at the dining table, watching videos on your phone as you ate takeout by yourself. A simple dinner for a quiet night alone. 

Bucky didn’t text you. He didn’t tell you that he was coming over. Normally, he would let you know that he was on his way. Even if the two of you didn’t end up doing anything, he would at least give you a heads up.

“Hey,” you said with a smile, turning to face him. “I thought you were hanging out with Sam tonight—“

“So you fuck me to get over my best friend? Is that it? Is that all I’m good for?”  he demanded, and your smile fell. “Answer me!”

“What?” you whispered, taken aback. “Buck, slow down—“

“You couldn’t even have the decency to tell me that you two were together?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. “I had to find out from fucking Sam?”

“How the hell did Sam know?” you asked, shocked. “Everyone who knew is—“

“Dead? Gone? Off the grid?” he cut you off, a hollow laugh escaping his lips. “Yeah. So you thought you could hide it.”

“Hang on. I wasn’t hiding anything,” you said, standing to face him fully.  

“Do you think you can just use me?” Bucky demanded, shocking you. 

Your eyes widened at the raw emotion. Your lips parted, and you reached a hand out to him. To touch his hand. To try to comfort him, to do something— anything. He smacked it away instantly, shocking you.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he growled at you, and you recoiled instantly, taking a step back.

“Bucky,” you muttered, your voice shaking. “Let’s talk. Please. There’s a misunderstanding here. I wasn’t hiding— There’s nothing to hide.”

“I was at my fucking lowest when Steve left. I thought— I thought it was the same for you. That your friend left you, too. That you were also trying to cope with the grief of losing everyone— everything.” Bucky was shaking, anger coursing through his veins. “That you got no fucking answers— but no. You were fucking me because you were mad that your boyfriend chose a woman he kissed once in the forties over you. And you know what? I don’t blame him.”

You stared at him, mouth agape. Hurt and pain were all over your features. You were trembling, too. But not from anger. You were in shock. 

“Am I disposable to you?” he whispered, your eyes widening.

“No! Of course not—“

“Worthless, then?” he cut you off, voice rising. 

“Bucky, never—“

“Because I feel pretty fucking worthless right now,” he told you, meeting your eyes. His voice was trembling, eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

You can’t speak a single word to him. Your eyes are searching all over his face, and you’re silently pleading with him to try to understand you. To remind him that he knows you. That he knows who you are and that you would never—

“You used me,” he said, swallowing thickly. 

“No,” you denied, your voice small.

“You’re no fucking better than H.Y.D.R.A.. Using my body for what you want, just to throw me away later.”

“No,” you said again, begging. “Bucky, no—“

“I’ll show you what it’s like to be used.”

Bucky grabbed you by the arm, dragging you into your bedroom. The door slammed shut a moment later, and it started all over again. 

On the couch, Bucky takes a moment to look at you. You have your chin on your knees. You’re exhausted. 

“How many times have you watched this?” Bucky finally asked you, leaning back against the couch cushions. 

“I don’t know,” you whispered, and Bucky feels his heart shattering in his chest. 

He drags a hand down his face, taking a deep breath before he forces himself to his feet. He stepped in front of you, blocking your view from himself as the memory of a younger, stupider him started to blame you for shit that he couldn’t work out on his own. 

Bucky kneels down, going eye level with you. You still were looking past him, watching the last fight between the two of you.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice soft. 

“Where?”

“To save the world. Where else?” he tried joking with you.

“I’m not interested in saving the world, Bucky,” you whispered back, shaking your head. “I’m so tired.”

Bucky let out a sigh, closing his eyes for just a moment. He looks down at the floor, racking his brain for something. Anything. 

“How about the bakery we used to go to every Sunday morning?” he offered, then saw your eyes flicker towards his direction. “They have a new mocha cake flavor. I haven’t tried it yet. Have you?”

“I haven’t been there in years,” you revealed. Your fingers absentmindedly picked at your thigh holsters, just to busy yourself a little bit. One of your anxious habits. 

Bucky moved to rest his hand over yours, forcing your eyes to meet his once more. Forcing you to look at him again. 

“Really? I go there all the time,” he told you. “I sit there and drink an iced coffee and order that loaded croissant you first got me when we went together. You know— the one with the jalapeños and bacon bits.”

“… Why?” you asked, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Because I miss you,” he answered, the confession leaving his lips without any hesitation. “You… You left so fast. I came back here two days later. Your apartment was already up for lease. Your number was disconnected. Your cards were turned off. It’s like you never existed.”

“I don’t get why you would care so much,” you muttered, looking away from him as you pulled your hand away.

Bucky caught it once again, intertwining his fingers with yours. Your name fell from his lips, your eyes meeting his in surprise. He said it so tenderly. So gently. With affection that he had kept guarded in a box locked up and tucked away.

“Can I get another chance, please?” he whispered, and your eyes widened slightly. Bucky wet his lips, letting out a shaking breath. “You told me that you would give me as many chances as I needed. And I fucked up badly on this night.”

“It was my fault for not telling you,” you whispered back. “You felt betrayed. I— I didn’t tell you.”

“I didn’t hear you out,” he said, shaking his head. “I should’ve.”

You stared at him. Bucky watched as you searched his face for answers that you needed years ago, answers that he should have provided you with when he had the chance, when he had you in his arms but was too afraid to tell you how he felt. 

“I will repent for the rest of my life for what I said and did to you,” he promised, squeezing your hand. “This will be the last battle, I swear. If you want me to leave you alone after this, I will. But we have to go. I can’t leave you in here to watch this shit show over and over again.”

Relief surged through his body as you shifted, your feet moving to touch the ground. You stood, and Bucky led you out of your last shame room, and back towards everyone else. 

“Let me do it,” Bucky sighed, taking the antiseptic from your shaking hands. “Sit down on the bench.”

You didn’t fight him. You had no more fight left in your body. From pulling Bob out of the void, to the press monstrosity outside— you were completely spent. 

The Watchtower was a mess. Glass was everywhere, furniture was broken, but at least there was a well functioning medical bay. The entire group of you were in here, all of you licking your wounds as you all tried to make sense of the last twenty-four hours of your life. 

The stinging pain of alcohol pulled you out of your thoughts as Bucky pressed the cleaning agent into your wounds, and your eyebrow furrowed in pain.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s fine. Are… are you okay?” you asked, mustering the courage to look up at his face. 

Truth be told, his injuries had mostly cleared up by now. Just as they always had. But you’re not asking about that, and he knows you’re not.

“I’ll probably enroll into therapy again, if you want me to set you up with someone, too,” he joked. 

“I didn't even tell you everything,” you said, frowning at him. “What makes you think I’ll tell a stranger?”

“Well, I didn’t even tell my therapist everything. I was thinking of dumping everything on Sam, actually. Make it his problem,” Bucky shrugged. 

You paused, thinking it over. “Sounds like a good idea, actually. I haven’t talked to him in a while… Might be good for me to reach out.”

“You should. He asks about you, every once in a while. Asked if I’ve heard from you— even if it’s a whisper or a rumor,” Bucky said, his voice soft. “He misses you, too.”

“I didn’t exactly trust Sam to keep my location a secret after he blurted out to you that I was in a relationship with Steve,” you muttered, a scoff escaping your lips. “He knew that we were sleeping together, too. He knew that you and I were doing it because we needed an outlet after everything we lost.”

Bucky’s hands stopped, and he pulled back to look you in the eyes. Shock is all over his face. 

“He knew?” he asked, in disbelief. 

“Bucky— I knew Sam longer than I’ve known you. Of course I told him,” you frowned at him. “And then the asshole went around telling shit that wasn’t his to tell. I still don't know how he knew me and Steve were together, if I'm being honest."

“Would you have told me?” Bucky asked you, and it’s your turn to pause. 

You weigh his words carefully, taking in the look on his face. He’s not mad. Not upset with you. He’s not looking at you the same way Steve did on your anniversary. It’s not accusatory. Bucky’s curious. 

“I would’ve,” you whispered honestly, nodding. “But I didn’t think we would ever progress past just the… sleeping together. So I didn’t think it was worth mentioning. I didn’t want to ruin the little of you that I managed to have. I didn’t realize that I would lose all of you in the process.”

Bucky let out a breath, dragging a hand down his face. Momentarily, you believe you’ve pissed him off with your response. That you’ll get a repeat of that night in your apartment. 

You watched him carefully, your lungs stopping in your chest as you waited for his response. You wait for the explosion, for the yelling, the accusations— then, he looked at you. His eyes meet yours.

Bucky’s still not upset with you. In fact, there’s affection in his eyes that you can’t believe you’re seeing again. He looks the same way he always did when he hovered above you, murmuring praises about how good you were to him. It was the same way he looked when he held you afterwards, making sure that he didn’t hurt you during the time you spent together. 

This was the same way his eyes would light up when you came over to his apartment with food from his favorite restaurant after a particularly bad therapy session. How he sighed in delight and told you that you were the best, and how you always read his mind. 

And, without you knowing, the same way he looked at you in Wakanda as you walked ahead of him with your hair full of flowers that he picked. Flowers that he deemed were good enough to decorate your head, but still not more beautiful than you.

“Can we start over?” Bucky whispered to you, hands moving to cover yours. 

“Start over and do what?” you whispered back, trying to will your voice to stay even. 

“I think that we have a good chance to do this right. You and me,” he said, releasing a breath. “Without grief or trauma defining… us. Defining our relationship— what we are to each other.”

“If there’s no trauma or grief, then what is there?”

“Love, sweetheart. You don’t believe in love? You were pretty adamant when you told Steve you were a hopeless romantic, you know,” he said, a soft teasing tone in his voice as he squeezed your hands. 

You could only let out a laugh in response, shaking your head. You cringed, unable to stop your body from the visceral reaction. You hated that memory- hated that night. You and Steve didn't talk for two days after that fight.

“You saw that? Did you— You saw the whole thing?”

“I saw the entire thing,” he confirmed, nodding. “And I’m sorry. I… I told you that you were using me, and I didn’t even know that you loved me from the start.”

“I hid it from you,” you murmured. “That isn’t your fault.”

“Then let’s call it an oversight on both our ends,” he said, giving you a small smile. 

“Do you really think this could work?” you asked, sighing deeply. “Us?” 

“Hypothetically speaking, yes. Realistically speaking? A thousand percent. But only if you want it. Only if you want me. Only if you’ll allow me to love you in the way that I definitely do not deserve to have you.”

Just like that. 

Bucky isn’t pleading with you. There is no pressure. He had simply opened the door to his heart, and he’s standing on the other side for you to join him. 

The answer is on the tip of your tongue as you feel your eyes sting with emotion. You’ve cried so much in the past day, you’re surprised you haven’t passed out from dehydration. 

Your vision is beginning to blur from your tears as you look at him— look at his face. 

He’s patient. Watching your every move with bated breath. His gaze is gentle, as if he is anticipating and ready to forgive you for rejecting him. 

Your throat is locked up as a tear finally slips down your cheek. Bucky’s eyes never leave yours, but his hand moves to cradle your face. His thumb brushes away the wetness, clearing your face. 

And you nod. Small, subtle, but you know he sees it. He always sees it. He always sees your every move. 

Bucky’s shoulders drop, relaxed as he reaches for you, arms wrapping around you. He’s holding you to his chest, and you can hear it— the inconsistent sound of his heart beating in his chest. You can feel the anxiety in his bones as he keeps you firm in his grasp, head tucked under his chin. 

A moment later, you bring your own arms around his torso, fingers clutching onto his shirt tight. Bucky shifts, pressing a series of kisses to the top of your head. 

You close your eyes, allowing yourself to finally melt into his arms. Years of yearning and silent love has brought you here, with him. The pain is still present, but is beginning to chip away with each of his words as you listen to him whisper to you—

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’ll make you happy this time.”

“Thank you. I don't deserve you- but thank you.”

“I love you.”

masterlist

taglist: @duacruel @natsomens @decthaxhrcv @shortandb1tchy @iyskgd @ifuckwithyouanyday @miss-chuchu @bighappypiels @snnoopyy @messrkarmaismygf13 @thebuckybarnesvault @aekzla @simp4f1 @its-in-the-woods @lvrrinx @herejustforbuckybarnes @djotummy

[springismss]

ᱬ⛧ perfect ~ s. todoroki

sum: just some thoughts of newlywed! shoto after his wedding back in the hotel room.

pairing: husband! shoto todoroki x wife! reader

content: 18+ - mdni below cut. p in v, teasing, dirty talk, stalled orgasm, brief mention of marking, one long round but feels like multiple, fingering, implied breeding want brief quirk use, brief implication of cum plugging, cream pie, reader gets called princess/baby/good girl, general NSFW content, aftercare, just all around loving shoto afterwards.

a/n: a rework of a request from my wattpad days. nice fresh feel and worded so much better. got re-inspired after reading the epilogue of the manga. slight epilogue spoilers in terms of shoto's ranking for anime only fans/fans not caught up on the manga. hope you all enjoy this one! as always, likes, comments and re-blogs are deeply appreciated.

word count: 2.5k

links: bnha/mha masterlist | masterlist

newlywed! shoto who’s finally married the love of his life in a lavish ceremony that would put some of the top celebrities in the world to shame. after all being the number 2 pro hero has its benefits.

newlywed! shoto who carries his new bride over the threshold of the honeymoon suite that the hotel booked for them for next to nothing. smiling softly as you giggle, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, not that he’d let you fall.

newlywed! shoto who set you down on the floor once he’d closed the door shut with his foot, finally getting a chance to take you in properly for the first time since he saw you at the altar. he loved how the white dress clung to your figure and how your rings now sparkled on your ring finger.

newlywed! shoto who still couldn’t believe you were his wife. was it a dream? if it was, he didn’t want to wake up. after years, you were truly his and he was yours.

new husband! shoto who runs his fingers up your exposed arm, trailing over the top of your back with a soft smile as you shivered. musing out “you look beautiful” and “you’re finally my wife” as he looked you over.

new husband! shoto who chuckles when you blush at his words. he always had an effect on you, even years after your first date. no one ever thought that the stoic shoto todoroki would settle down, let alone with someone who could rival bakugou at the best of times.

new husband! shoto who places soft kisses on your bare shoulder, hand resting gently on your arm. who loves to hear the small gasps you let out as you tilt your head to the side, giving him more access to your skin.

new husband! shoto who stops his kisses for a moment, stepping behind you to help you out of your dress. who lets the material pool at your feet as he takes a moment to place a kiss at the bottom of your neck.

new husband! shoto who moves to stand in front of you again. who takes in the sight of you in your wedding night lingerie. who thanks whoever is out there that he’s the one seeing you in this, and no one else will ever get to see you dress this way.

new husband! shoto who drags both his hands and eyes over your body, taking in the subtle ways you move under his touch and gaze. the way you close your eyes and sigh out, leaning into the wandering fingers on your skin.

new husband! shoto who rests his hands on your hips, fingers gripping slightly as he pulls you flush against him, loving the feeling of your arms draping over his shoulders. who rubs your skin with his thumbs as he utters words he knows you won’t refuse. “let’s get a little more comfortable, my love”. “can’t have you feeling uncomfortable when you’re wrapped around me”.

new husband! shoto who picks you up and carries you over to the bed, smiling softly as you squeak from the movement. who places you gently onto the mattress of the emperor bed in the room like a doll that would break at any moment.

new husband! shoto who steps back to remove his suit, stripping away each article of clothing until he’s bare before you. heterochromia eyes watching the way you look at him with nothing but pure love, that you look at him as your husband and the person you fell in love with, not as the number 2 hero or the son of the former pro, endeavor.

new husband! shoto who hovers above you for a moment, whispers of how “beautiful you are” and how “lucky i am to have you” sound before he leans down, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that becomes needier.

new husband! shoto who moves his lips to your neck, chest, torso and thighs, nipping and sucking as he goes. who leaves small marks in his wake that have you twisting your body slightly as you gasp.

new husband! shoto who takes a moment and positions himself between your legs, lifting your leg and making it bend at the knee as he places soft kisses against the inside of your thighs. who trails those kisses further up towards your covered cunt.

new husband! shoto who moves the fabric to one side, placing a kiss just over the place he can’t wait to be buried deep inside of. who brings up two digits and slips them past the thin strip of material, pressing them inside your waiting cunt. who’s scissoring them as he moves them in tandem with his tongue he’s now flicking across your covered clit.

new husband! shoto who loves the way you squirm against him, the way your hands tangle in his hair as you graze your fingers against his scalp in a bid to keep yourself grounded. who shivers at the contact and can feel his cock staring to painfully harden. who loves the sound of you losing that battle as you whine out his name.

new husband! shoto who pushes his fingers deeper into you, down to the knuckle as the coolness of his wedding band is engulfed in your hot cunt. the small contrast only adds to the dizziness you’re feeling.

new husband! shoto who’s tapping against that one spongy place that has you seeing stars and vision blurring. who pulls away to look up at you as you arch your back at the feeling of your impending orgasm creeping up.

new husband! shoto who loves to talk you through it with words of encouragement like “that’s it, princess”, “you’re doing so good for me”, and “let me feel you squeeze my fingers baby, give me a taste of what’s to come when I’m buried deep inside you”.

new husband! shoto who feels your walls spasm around his fingers as you reach your euphoria, a broken cry of his name leaving your throat as your eyes flutter shut. who loves the way you try to milk his fingers like you do his cock when he’s inside you. “that’s it baby”.

new husband! shoto who pulls his fingers out and slips them into his mouth, taking his time to suck your slick while you catch your breath. who locks his eyes with yours while he does, chuckling at the embarrassed whine you let out as you turn to face away from him.

new husband! shoto who, when he’s cleaned his fingers, kneels between your legs again once he’s helped you strip out of your lingerie. who grabs both your legs this time and parts them, lining up the mushroom tip of his cock to your now soaked cunt. who likes to tease you by rubbing himself against you a few times before he finally pushes past that tight ring.

new husband! shoto who groans out when he feels the welcoming warmth of your insides, the way you’re already clenching around him, not wanting to let go. who loves the way you’re arching as you press yourself closer to him, savouring that welcome stretch you love so much when he joins with you.

new husband! shoto who wastes no time in moving his hips, pulling back until his tip is just barely inside as he watches the way squirm at the loss before thrusting back into your cunt, savouring the way to cry out at the surprise.

new husband! shoto who begins to fuck you with the sole intention of showing you just how much he loves you. that this is the closest he’ll ever be to someone, that he’ll make you feel exactly how he much love he holds for you and not used as a way to continue his bloodline.

new husband! shoto who’ll only ever take that journey when you’re both ready for it. after all, he’d love to have you round with his child so everyone knows you’re his and his alone. to know that he’s the only one you’ll ever be able to give yourself to completely, and that he’ll be the one who’s the father of your children. purely because that’s what you both want.

new husband! shoto who can briefly picture that image. who has to keep himself in check because that was for another day and a future conversation.

new husband! shoto who leans forward to messily kiss you, tongues clashing for a moment before he leans back. who grabs your legs and moves them to dangle in front of you, enjoying the feeling of the new angle as he reaches deep within you. judging by the way you moaned out and gripped his arms, he’d hit that spongy spot even better than earlier.

new husband! shoto who loves the feeling of your cunt gripping him harder, sucking him in deeper as your slick begins to splash out slightly, dotting onto his thighs as he thrusts harshly into you more. the squelching gaining loudness the quicker he snaps his hips.

new husband! shoto who presses into you deeper until he can feel that tell-tale sign you're near your next orgasm. the way your walls start to pulsate quicker around his cock makes him smirk before he pulls away, slipping out of your cunt as you whine out at the loss of feeling full and being so close to climaxing.

new husband! shoto who drops your legs before shuffling back, grabbing your hand to pull you off your back. who’s quick to turn you around so you face away from him, one set of fingers gripping your hip, the other set wrapped around your wrist as he pulls you back into him and lifts you up with little effort, sinking his cock back into you.

new husband! shoto who pulls your back into a lovely arch by your arm as he thrusts into you, savouring the way you bounce against him as your cries of pleasure increase. who's peering over your shoulder to watch the way your breasts brounce with each reentry of his cock into your puffy pussy. who doesn’t give a damn if people walking past can hear.

new husband! shoto who moves the hand on your hip between your legs, circling your clit with the pad of his finger as he activates his ice quirk slightly. who loves the way you shiver and moan out, begging for him to let you go. “f-fuck, shoto, p-please”.

new husband! shoto who, after a few more thrusts, will move both hands back to your hips, helping you to slam down in the position he has you in. who can feel the way your walls pulsate the closer you get. with words of "come on princess" and "let me feel you squeeze around my cock first like the good girl you are" that will help you reach that euphoria you've been chasing with a broken cry of his name.

new husband! shoto who savours the feeling of your vice like grip around him as he pushes you forward, pressing you into the mattress before he pistons his hips, driving his cock deeper into you. who makes sure to hit that spongy spot repeatedly while you're crying out from still being overly sensitive.

new husband! shoto who can feel his balls tighten as he nears his end. who quickly pulls out and grabs you, before pulling you on top of him after he's lain down. who helps you move and pushes back inside your overly sensitive cunt as he pulls you closer to him, lips crashing against yours in a messy and desperate kiss.

new husband! shoto who after a few more sloppy thrusts, groans against your swollen appendages as he cums, making sure to paint your insides white with his seed as he mumbles. “f-fuck, baby, take it all” and “going to fill you so full you’ll be dripping me for weeks”. who watches the way you shiver at the feeling and makes sure to keep himself sheathed within you to stop any of his seed from spilling out just yet.

new husband! shoto who lets you fall forward onto his chest, wrapping his arms around you as you pant to catch your breath. who runs a hand through your hair and kisses the top of your head. "you done so well princess, let's have a break".

new husband! shoto who manoeuvres you both into a more comfortable position as you hum out soflty, placing a hand on his chest to feel the steadying rhythm of his heart. who looks down at you as you concentrate on where your hand rests.

new husband! shoto who spends a good while chatting softly to you, talking about the moments of the day he loved the most, none topping the moment you were announced as husband and wife. “okay, maybe being able to fuck you as my wife came joint top”. who laughs at your flustered looked.

new husband! shoto who places a finger under your chin and tilts your head, looking over your face as you reach up to touch his. who closes his eyes at the feeling of you tracing the lighter scar on his face, normally, he’d hate anyone touching it, but he’s learned to love it thanks to you.

new husband! shoto who kisses your lips lovingly this time, savouring the way you move into him before pulling away from you, hearing you sighing out at the loss of contact and at the feeling of him pulling himself off you.

new husband! shoto who walks to the bathroom to grab some pieces before coming back to help you clean up, taking care of your now overly sensitive body. who’ll take a moment to watch his seed seep out of you slowly, chewing on his lip at the sight.

totally in love! shoto who, when he’s finished cleaning you, will pick you up and hold you close to him while he pulls the sheets back, climbing in and laying you next to him. who wraps his arm around you as he lays your head on his chest.

totally in love! shoto who whispers words of love and affection to you while he strokes your back and side. who thanks you for standing by him when he didn’t want anyone to be with him.

totally in love! shoto who wonders how he managed to be right here in this moment with you. who wonders how he was so lucky to be married and feel a sense of love and security from someone so close to him.

new husband! shoto who was more scared then he let on. who was originally afraid of letting anyone close to him, given his past. who just happened to bump into you one day while you walked the halls of u.a. who took a chance that day and didn’t look back.

new husband! shoto who looks down to see you asleep on his chest, smiling softly as he pulls you closer and the sheets around you both.

new husband! shoto who’s eternally grateful to you for wanting him and nothing more. who can’t wait for the rest of your married life together and the memories you’ll create.

new husband! shoto who knows his younger self would be proud of him and who he was now. one of the top pro heroes, as well as having his biggest supporter and cheerleader by his side for the rest of his life.

new husband! shoto who finally realises that everyone deserves love. even him.

© springismss 2025 - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.

[innerfare]

Going Down On You - Part 2

Summary: how they go down on you

Characters: Shanks, Beckman, Mihawk, Crocodile, Doflamingo, Corazon, Smoker

Genre: pure smut

CW: NSFW // oral sex, shameless dirty talk, Doflamingo is a menace

——— 

Shanks: 

Swears it’s a hangover cure, and this man is hungover every single morning. He’ll wake up with a pounding headache, and before he’s even opened his eyes, he’s reaching for you. He’ll paw at you like a lazy animal until you remove your panties for him and he can fall face first into your delicious cunt. He’s trained your cunt like Pavlov’s dog, too, so that you wake up wet in the morning, your clit throbbing like an alarm clock. 

“Always ready for me,” he’ll mumble in his raspy morning voice. “Nice and wet. That's my girl.” 

You actually get a rash on your inner thighs from his stubble constantly rubbing against your sensitive skin, and you have to sheepishly approach Hongo for some sort of cream. Hongo has been on the Red Force long enough that he’s not phased, though you are so embarrassed you try to ban Shanks from going down on you for a while (spoiler alert: it doesn’t work). 

“I’d rather lose my arm than skip breakfast.” 

He’ll spend most of his time between your legs licking with broad strokes of his tongue, only pointing it and attacking your clit when you’re already on the brink of orgasm. He’ll finger you as you cum and won’t stop until you’re a crying mess, begging him to stop. Of course, he’ll only stop for as long as it takes him to get his cock out and push it in. 

Beckman: 

"Come here, babygirl. That's it."

Beckman drinks your juices like a nightcap. He’ll put you on his desk, the moonlight filtering in through the window and a lamp flickering in the corner, and unzip his pants to give his massive erection some breathing room before turning his attention to his babygirl. He likes to start slow, taking his sweet time with your nipples and leaving a trail of hickies around them, before finally burying his face between your shaking legs.  

“Give daddy a taste.” 

He’s nice and sweet about it, but don’t think he won’t hold you down if you start to squirm around too much. He goes down on you like you need it, not like you want it; he goes down on you like it’s for your own good. It’s for his own good, too, that thing that takes the edge off and helps him wind down after a stressful day. He wants your legs wrapped around his head and your hands tangled in his long hair. 

Oh, and he wants you to tell him that he owns you. Nobody else is allowed to taste your pussy; it's all his, and you'd better chant that while he draws your orgasm out of you.

Mihawk:

A proponent of fine dining. 

Will eat you out on the table, which kind of makes you feel like he’s doing it in public because his dining room is so large and there are massive windows with no curtains covering them; his insistence on you removing every article of clothing, not just your panties, and sitting on the table, feet on the edge, holding your legs as far apart as they’ll go only makes you feel more exposed. All the while, he remains entirely clothed. 

He’ll scold you if you wrap your legs around him. It’s his meal and he’s going to enjoy it precisely the way he wants, and the way he wants is uninhibited. He drags it out, too, edging you multiple times and lecturing you about delayed gratification if you complain. When he does finally allow you to cum, he tortures your clit for a moment after to be certain he saw you through your entire orgasm.  

Other times, he’ll be sitting in his chair and see you walk by and say, “y/n, come here.” He’ll have you strip down before laying you on the coffee table and working an orgasm or two out of you. Enjoys it so much that at times when he’s training or preparing for something, he’ll ban himself from indulging in your pussy because he needs to be focused. 

Crocodile:

Sir Crocodile has a big cock, but he normally stretches you with his fingers. Oral sex isn’t foreplay to him, it’s a separate thing entirely. He normally engages in it very late at night or very early in the morning when he’s exhausted and you’re half asleep. He’ll run his hand down your body, stopping briefly to massage your breasts, before pulling your legs apart. 

“Wake up,” he might grumble in your ear. Or he might not, instead waking you up with a few kisses to your clit.  

He probably kisses your pussy more than he kisses your mouth. He’ll make out with your leaky opening, swapping your juices for his saliva, part of him wishing he still had his other hand so he had more fingers to torture you with. But he’ll settle for one, going back and forth between your nipples and squeezing them until you cry out, then squeezing them some more.  

He doesn’t talk to you while he does it, a far cry from how he mocks and argues with you during penetrative sex. When he’s in an especially bad mood, he doesn’t take his hook off, and you wake up with it pushing into the soft flesh of your thigh, a silent warning not to close your legs on him. And when he’s finished, he’ll push you back to your side of the bed without a word. 

Doflamingo: 

Part of being his toy means being tormented with his tongue. He has a fucking giraffe tongue, and he puts it to good use, often laying back in bed and making you ride it like it’s his cock, moving it out of the way and then making fun of you when you struggle. He makes you talk to him the entire time, and when you’re not sitting on his face, you have to make eye contact with him. 

He’ll talk to you, too, and is so fucking patronizing. 

“Use your words, little one. Come on, you can do it. Don’t tell me it’s too much for you.” 

Uses a lot of different toys while he’s going down on you, typically a butt plug and nipple clamps. Has most definitely used a transponder snail to take pictures of your wet pussy, flush and swollen after he spent an entire afternoon tonguing it; the clicking sound of the snail camera was so humiliating but it made your pussy throb so much harder. 

One of his favorite things in the world is tying you up with his strings and spitting on your cunt. He has, on a handful of occasions, tied you up and allowed his subordinates to lick your pussy, but never lets them taste your cum; right when you’re on the edge, he’ll take over and make them watch while he takes your orgasm all for himself, usually with his cock. 

Corazon: 

Eating your pussy is his stress relief. The number of times you burned dinner because you were cooking and he came home in the middle and bent you over the counter for an appetizer is unreal. He always apologizes, but he doesn’t feel bad enough to stop doing it; he can’t stop doing it. And you’d be cruel to make him considering you can feel the tension leave his body as soon as his tongue runs through your folds. 

“I needed this so bad. Thank you so much.” 

When he’s not bending you over a counter, he wants you riding his face, and none of that hovering shit, either. He’ll wrap his arms around your thighs and hold you flush against his face, moaning as he laps at your folds.

“I can tell you need it, too. Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve got you.” 

He’s so sweet about it, it’s unreal. Smiles the entire time, places so many sweet kisses on your clit and opening. A big fan of the two finger and tongue combo. Can work an orgasm out of you in record time. Never fucks you without making you cum at least once on his tongue (he’s 9’7 and his cock is proportional). 

Smoker: 

Smoker almost always ends up eating his cum out of you. He’s gone for weeks, even months at a time, and when he walks through that door, you’re dropping your panties or he’s ending it all. He has so much pent up energy he absolutely has to fuck you, but that doesn’t change the fact that what he’s been jerking off to every night is the thought of tasting you. 

“Don’t think for a second we’re finished yet.” 

He’ll take breaks to kiss you on the mouth, making you taste yourself. And then he’ll work his way back down your body, leaving hickies on your neck and biting your nipples before he’s back between your legs again, pushing his tongue into your hole to get every last drop of both of your juices out, his thumb seeing to your aching clit. 

You won’t even make it to the bed, he’ll just fuck you against the wall or on the counter and then drag you onto the floor to lick your cunt. He’s attempted to get you to the sofa before, but you just end up pushed against it while still on the floor, or else bent over the arm or sitting on the edge while he kneels between your legs. 

Also, the two of you don’t shower together often, but for some reason, the times you do shower together, he always ends up with his face between your legs. You’ve wasted so much water because he can’t keep his damn tongue to himself. And when he’s finished, he always places a few sweet kisses at your entrance as if to reward you for behaving. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[dc-gotham-instincts-wild]

Ok so, we know that when Jason gets emotional or angry or taken by Pit Rage his eyes turn fully green. And i hc that his eyes will fluctuate between greenish blue and deep blue with barely a trace green depending on his mental and emotional state. 

So we see that it turns that color when he's attacking Tim, when fights Bruce (I think)

Basically, at first it goes green when he's facing his family who he thought had failed him.

So you know what I want?

This changes. Later along the line, he doesn't go Lazarus when he's mad at them. 

Now they go green, and blaze brighter than ever before when he's protecting them. When he's fighting with and alongside them. 

He finds some thug who banged up one of his siblings really badly, really really bad, and they go further to insult whatever sibling they went at. It doesn't matter which one.

Suddenly all Jason can see is through a green haze, and Nightwing has to call out and coax him off the guy before he kills him. 

Jack Drake shows up at the Manor looking for Tim, generally being an a-hole, mentioning something about 'Waynes stealing his kid for no reason' and generally not noticing that most of that is his fault.

Jason, coincidentally the one to open the door, tries to control. himself, but Jack goes over the line with something, anything, and his eyes turn green, and he swings around and socks him in the jaw. Hard. 

And snarls in Jack's face to stay the hell away from his little brother. 

Jack stops after that day. 

He's on patrol, coincidentally when he hears a fight and jumps in on a villain almost getting the better of the old man, of Batman, of his dad and well, the news later has an article on Red Hood, with blazing green eyes behind the helmet almost tearing some villain's hand off. 

He's on patrol with Signal and Spoiler and Black Bat when a villain threatens the younger ones and also gets between RH and Black Bat and them at the same time. Well, Hood was having a bad night anyway, might as well send the jerk to the hospital. 

And more like that.

One time the Titans and the Outlaws have to team up for something. Either Red Robin and Nightwing get hurt badly. Really bad.

This is the first time the Outlaws (And Titans) see the full green glow, and Hood goes. Ballistic.

He nearly kills the one responsible before his brothers' call from the other side of the area finally coaxes, calls, him out of it. 

And the Pit Rage is stronger than before. And clearer. And easier to control. 

Jason used to get Pit Rage when he was mad at and attacking his family. Now it comes when he's protecting, fighting with, and in general for them. 

[mrs-stans]

Sebastian Stan didn't get Thunderbolts* joke about Bucky's arm in dishwasher: 'This is silly'

"'I don't understand why this is funny,'" Stan remembers telling director Jake Schreier about Bucky's messy moment at home.

By Sydney Bucksbaum

This article contains spoilers about Thunderbolts*... or do we call it *The New Avengers now?

One Thunderbolts* moment has had fans in a chokehold since the first footage originally debuted at 2024 Comic-Con. But the star at the center of the scene wasn't in on the joke.

No, we're not talking about Bob (Lewis Pullman) becoming Sentry/the Void. Or the title change. Or that post-credits scene shot for Avengers: Doomsday. Or even Valentina Allegra de Fontaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) punching Holt (Chris Bauer) in the throat.

No, it's actually the moment when Bucky (Sebastian Stan) spills on his pristine congressman clothes while eating a chili dog in his kitchen. Disappointed in the mess he's made, the Winter Soldier cleans himself up...by putting his Vibranium arm in the dishwasher.

Bucky cleans up his arm using his dishwasher in 'Thunderbolts*'.

When fans at Comic-Con first saw that scene in July, talk of it went viral before the trailer finally released online in September, giving everyone a glimpse at Bucky's non-traditional cleaning routine. But Stan tells Entertainment Weekly that he actually tried to talk director Jake Schreier out of including that scene in that movie.

"I immediately said to Jake, 'I don't understand why this is funny. You do not need this. This is silly,'" Stan tells EW. "But Jake was like, 'But maybe you could be eating something and then it can just go everywhere.' And I go, 'Really? That's what's going to [happen]?'"

While Stan wasn't originally a fan of the moment, he's since come around. "But I get it now," he says. "I mean, it is funny, I have to admit."

Stan isn't the only Thunderbolts* star to not get their own joke in the movie. Wyatt Russell previously told EW that he didn't realize his character John Walker a.k.a. U.S. Agent drops an ironic Captain America (Chris Evans) Easter egg during the opening vault breakout scene when he says, "On your left!" before smashing open the wall with his shield.

"Wait, what do I say?" Russell asked EW. "'On your left?' ... When do I say, 'On your left?' Oh, oh, oh, when I smashed the ... thingie."

Steve Rogers first said "on your left" in Captain America: The Winter Soldier while lapping Sam Wilson (Anthony Mackie) many times on an early morning run, and it was later referenced when Sam and the rest of the blipped Avengers returned during the climactic battle in Avengers: Endgame. While Russell claimed that his line is not a Captain America Easter egg, he revealed that the director is the one who added it to the movie much later, after they filmed the vault scene.

"That was a line I didn't want to say," Russell admitted. "Jake felt like we needed something to say in ADR. That was an ADR-ed line. That is not connected at all. It was just something to fill a void."

[tepkunset]

“You know if this was a horror movie, you’d be the first to die.” “Why, because I’m Black?” “Because you’re the skeptical one. They always go first, so the rest of us can keep doing dumb shit and die in unnecessarily brutal ways. But, now that I think about it, why does the Black character always die first…?” — Van and Taissa, Yellowjackets 1x07, “No Compass”

The horror genre has never been kind to racial/ethnic minorities. (And especially unkind to Black people in particular.) Characters of colour very rarely make it into the list of “Final Girls”; instead they are far more often used as props for those white Final Girls to act around, and always destined to die. In season one of Yellowjackets, the writers took the above jab at this recurring phenomenon. Now in season three of Yellowjackets, the writers have become the very thing they once poked fun at.

[READ MORE]

[littlejuicebox]

Mermaid whiskey.

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Reader/Tav Summary/Setting: 2 weeks after BG3 final battle, Elfsong Tavern / Astarion has been ignoring you and spending too much time reading for your tastes, you aim to distract him. Rating/Warnings: M+ / Smut / Light BDSM / Soft Dom Astarion vibes / Some mild in game spoilers/allusions to events / Overstimulation, Teasing, Bondage, Blindfolding etc Word Count: 4.3K Notes: Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off x Whiskey Girl

-----

Two weeks after the final battle, Astarion is lounging by the crackling fireplace on the upper level of the Elfsong Tavern, a large goblet of red wine in one hand and a book in the other.

Everyone else spent time after the battle exploring the city or downstairs drinking and celebrating their victory as they all prepared to move onto new adventures. But Astarion had chosen nearly every opportunity over the past two weeks to hang back and enjoy some much-deserved alone time. Now that the constant worries about Cazador and the overall impending doom of Baldur’s Gate were all behind him, the rogue threw himself into finding bits of individual enjoyment whenever and wherever he could. He'd fixated himself on hobbies and leisure, and reading had seemed an obvious first choice. He'd easily idle hours away, sometimes reading an entire book cover to cover in one sitting.

Often, you would sit with the elf as he read, snuggled in a blanket or cuddled up against your love, but eventually you always got the urge to get up and do something else. You'd tried on more than one occasion to interest the rogue in another activity, but Astarion remained glued to the couch for those two weeks, barely stepping away to hunt, bathe, or trance. You'd noted, with a bit of concern, that he hadn't even asked to feed on you in more than a tenday.

Tonight, you’d tried more than once to pull him down to the tavern, but the elf quickly refused, barely lifting his eyes from the pages in front of him. Astarion seemed particularly obsessed with this book; you were almost convinced he’d already finished it and had started a second reading.

Several hours passed while you socialized down at the bar and Astarion's perfect nose stayed wedged in a book before a very tipsy Karlach decided to climb the stairs and speak to the vampire. “Oi! C’mon, Astarion! Close that dusty tome and join the fun. We’ll all only be together for a few more days. Me, Lae’zel, Shadowheart, and Tav are taking shots!”

The vampire’s ears perk up and he furrows his brow at the woman, snapping his book shut in the process. “Shots? Of what, exactly?”

“Mermaid Whiskey!”

“Oh no. Oh no, no, no! Karlach! Mermaid Whiskey practically makes Tav’s clothes fall off!”

Astarion is on his feet now, the book abandoned as he rushes past the Tiefling and down the flight of stairs into the tavern. He quickly spots the silky blue bandana you use to tie your hair up at camp strewn upon a forgotten bar stool. Knowing it’s possibly your most prized article of clothing, the elf tucks it into his back pocket. Scarlet eyes perform a hurried scan of the room and the vampire bristles when you’re nowhere to be found.

The others are still at the bar, where Lae’zel just challenged a bartender to an arm-wrestling competition. The women warriors are cheering Lae’zel on as she’s locked in a stalemate with the man.

“Shadowheart, have you seen Tav?”

Shadowheart barely acknowledges the vampire, too engrossed in the show. “What do you mean? She’s right—“ Her gaze flicks to the abandoned stool as Lae’zel successfully slams the worker’s hand onto the sticky bar, causing the campmates and some other patrons to erupt into cheers. “She was right there a moment ago.”

Astarion runs a stressed hand through his curled hair, inspecting the room for any sign of you. Soon enough, he spots a familiar pair of shoes and hurries to them, eyes already searching for the next clue. A discarded earring floating in a glass of half-drunk whiskey is sat on the bottom step of the stairs. That hadn’t been there when he descended down them, had it?

The vampire’s gaze trails up the stairwell and his suspicions are confirmed. Your navy-blue dress is draped across the back of an armchair he can barely see from his low vantage point.

‘She must’ve snuck around when I was talking to Shadowheart.’

The rogue dashes up the stairs to find you reclined on a chaise lounge, body flushed from the whiskey coursing through your veins. You are strewn suggestively across the chaise, clothed in only your laced undergarments and thigh high stockings. The alluring vision caused Astarion's heart to leap into his throat.

“Darling, what on earth do you think you’re you doing? You’re barely clothed in the middle of the tavern. This isn’t the wilds anymore.”

You’re lying on your side when Astarion finds you, and you pout in his direction as he scolds you, waving a dismissive hand. You roll onto your stomach, bending your knees and crossing your legs. You’re pleased to see the vampire's gaze drag down your body, pausing at the curve of your bottom, before flitting back to your face. Astarion licks his lips as he looks at you, the first sign that your little plan is working. You’ve finally gotten his attention after trying to steal him away from that damned book he was so enamored with all night.

“I know my love, but I’m just so unbelievably hot right now. You wouldn’t believe how hot I feel.”

Astarion quickly crosses the few feet between you two, placing a cool, concerned hand on your flushed cheek. “How many shots did you take?”

“Oh, just two. Maybe three? I kept losing the stupid ‘never have I ever game’ because everyone made all their questions about vampires.” You pout at your lover again before turning your head to press your lips against his thumb, lingering there intentionally, your wide eyes still focused on the rogue.

Astarion was no fool. With your mouth holding his thumb in that suggestive manner, he soon realized what you were doing. You adored the vampire with your entire heart, but on your drunken nights, you knew how to be a perfectly tempting, needy little brat. “And why, my sweet, did you keep playing the game if it was so clearly rigged against you?”

You groan, moving to a sitting position, while your hands toy with the laces of your bodice. “Because…” You sharply tug at the flouncy strings and Astarion’s hand catches yours in a tight grip, moments before you’re about to expose your breasts in the center of the lounge. “You’ve barely paid attention to me the past two weeks… and I was lonely and bored and wanted to have fun.”

“Darling, I know what you’re doing... I thought we agreed that tonight you’d go to the bar, and I would stay up here.” Astarion murmurs, nimble fingers toying with the strings of your bodice. He tries to resist the temptation to look down at your cleavage and fails; you see his eyes roll up in annoyance at himself and his inability to fight off his baser instincts in your presence. Inside you’re practically giddy that you’re winning the charade, but you keep the pout plastered to your face.

“We didn’t agree to anything, my Star. You didn't give me a choice.” You huff, pointedly brushing your hair away from your neck to reveal the little pinprick scars made by your lover. The rogue's eyes trail to the marks and he licks his lips again, suddenly quite aware of how long it’s been since he’s sunk his fangs into your flesh.

Gods you were frustrating. Astarion both loathed and loved that you could play him like a lyre; you knew him so well that you understood exactly what would make him tick. Every. Single. Time.

The vampire shakes his head, trying to rattle the fantasies out of his brain and not allow you the upper hand. You were being ridiculous; if you’d wanted attention, you should’ve just asked instead of acting out. Trying to turn the conversation, Astarion asks, “What is it you even like about whiskey? It’s vile.”

You sigh and roll your eyes before sliding off the chaise and sauntering away from the elf. For a moment you think he’s going to let you leave, but then he’s trailing after you like a lost puppy and you know you've got him hooked.

“Excuse me? You’re just going to walk away? Conversation over?”

You shrug and sigh again, stopping just in front of the door to your bedchamber. You turn to face the rogue, leaning back against the door and crossing your arms. Astarion’s eyes are narrowed as he stares at you with some level of frustration and incredulity at your antics.

“If you must know, I suppose I like a bit of edge… and a bit of pain with my pleasure.” Your voice is coy, eyebrow raised, and you're fully leaning into the innuendo of your statement. “And you like that I like it... don’t you?”

Astarion chuckles at this, a smirk ghosting his lips. “You are a wicked little thing, aren’t you? Using my own games and my own tactics against me now?”

You’re wearing a mischievous grin as the rouge saunters forward, closing the distance between your bodies. He firmly grasps your chin in his hand, scarlet eyes studying your face. Just as his lips brush against yours, and you're thinking you've won this little game, you murmur, “I guess the apprentice has become the master.”

Astarion pauses and draws back for a moment, the darkening of his gaze and his raised eyebrow causing you to shudder where you stand as he grips a bit tighter on your chin. “Oh darling. You’re cute. But now I think I have to teach you a lesson and remind you who the master truly is here.”

And then his lips are on yours, fangs clashing roughly into teeth. He feels for the knob behind you and turns it, forcing you both into the room before unceremoniously slamming the door closed. Your mouths are melded together as the vampire effortlessly guides you to the bed and shoves you into the mattress. Quick, pale hands tug at the strings of your bodice and your breasts are released from their confines, spilling out in front of the vampire’s eager gaze as he drags the undergarment off your arms and throws it aside.

Then Astarion grabs something from his back pocket — your blue bandana — and dangles it in front of you with a mock-condescending pout on his lips. All you can think about in that moment is how you want to take that pout into your own lips and bite.

“Darling, you left this downstairs and I had to retrieve it. I think I may need to teach you to take care of your belongings. You only have two of these, my love, and I know you would be so desperate to find them if they were permanently lost, wouldn’t you?”

You nod as you reach for your bandana, but Astarion is faster and pulls it away just in time, smirking at you all the while. “Come to think of it… where is your other bandana, my sweet?”

"It's in here." You murmur, lips already swollen from the rough kiss he'd pulled you into. You turn to the nightstand and withdraw your second bandana, an identical twin to the first. Astarion quickly takes it from your hand and grins mischievously, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as the silken fabric glides from your fingers.

“Good girl. Now, give me your hands.”

You oblige and the rogue deftly binds your wrists together with an expertly tied knot. He tugs at the bindings, testing their strength. Astarion lifts your hands to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of one before taking the second bandana and folding it into a long strip. Your eyes are fixated on his lithe fingers. Then he presses forward, face mere inches from yours. His eyes are dark and intense, but glimmering with adoration all the same, in a way that floods you with the overwhelming sensation of excitement and safety all in one.

“You’ll let me know if it’s too much, won't you, my love?”

“Y-yes.” You whisper, almost breathlessly and wholly impatient for what is coming next. Your body still burns with desire and Mermaid Whiskey. The last thing you see is Astarion’s eyes before the second bandana shrouds you in darkness.

Cool hands guide you to lay back onto the mattress and soon enough long, nimble fingers languidly trace their way down your body. You feel Astarion’s hands ghost over your arms, down your collarbone, and then trail circles around your breasts where he gives both nipples a gentle, teasing tug before moving on. His fingers brush your abdomen, around the curve of your hips, down the tops of your thighs, and finally to your calves. Then his lips press to your foot, and he works at pressing feather light kisses up your leg.

He continues kissing up your right leg for what seems like forever, fingers still moving tantalizingly along your calf and thigh. By the time the vampire makes his way back up to the top of your thigh, you are wiggling and keening in anticipation. He hovers over your still-clothed mound for a few beats before shifting slightly and returning to kissing down your left leg. You whine in disappointment, your bound hands straining against the fabric as you try to grip your lover. A dark chuckle is all you get in response as Astarion continues to kiss your opposing thigh, nibbling here and there, at a rate that seems somehow even slower than the first leg he worshipped.

By the time he’s placing a kiss to the top of your left foot, you’re writhing wholeheartedly, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to give yourself more stimulation. You don’t dare use your bound hands, knowing the punishment would be further binding and teasing. Astarion unhurriedly runs his hands up your legs once again, stopping to draw leisurely circles at the apex of your thighs before tracing one chilled finger along the waistband of your underwear.

“A-Astarion!” You choke out with another whine, just as the vampire runs that same finger down your still-clothed slit, feeling the wetness now soaking through the fabric from his torments.

Your lover chuckles in dark delight. “I’ve barely even touched you, my needy little love, and yet here you are, positively soaked. Your lesson is far from over, darling.”

There is a moment of silence apart from soft rustling; you cannot see anything, but your ears pick up the sound of Astarion’s buckle coming undone. And then you feel his weight on top of you. You can tell he’s still wearing his briefs as he presses his groin against your sex, legs straddling either side of your hips. Suddenly you feel a sharp pinch on both your nipples. Your back arches in response to the sensation while a pleading groan shoots from your mouth.

“Mm… I think you quite like that, don’t you?”

“Y-yes!” Is all you can reply as you feel Astarion's cold hands kneading the flesh of your breasts before he resumes pinching the swollen buds.

You try to buck your hips, but the bastard knows what he’s doing, and he’s got you pinned perfectly beneath him in a way that renders you all but helpless. Your bound hands search for Astarion’s body, and you barely graze against his abdominals before the vampire rips your hands away with a little tut, laying nearly all his body weight atop you as he raises your hands up over your head. You can feel his breath against your ear before he takes the lobe in his mouth and nibbles. Gods the torture was becoming unbearable. You buck again, another frustrated whine escaping your lips.

“Shhh now, darling. Shame we don’t have a third bandana or you would be gagged. We are quite impatient today, aren’t we?”

You whimper as he continues the abuse to your ear before trailing his tongue down to your neck. “My little whiskey girl…” His lips hover over that familiar little spot on your neck, his breath tickling your skin. Your pulse jumps to greet your lover. “May I?”

You barely nod, “Yes. Please.”

Astarion groans at your response, thrusting his hips forward to press his rock-hard bulge into your folds. You feel a sharp, icy sting in your neck before your body gives way to the delectable ripples of pleasure. The vampire laps from you lazily, rutting against your mound, the still-clothed underside of his cock sawing torturously between the folds of your still-clothed but now dripping slit. He continues suckling, not really drinking for sustenance but more for his own pleasure, his hardening member abusing your swollen clit. You’re keening again, and one of his hands moves to tease your nipple while the other gets lost in your hair, holding you in place as he takes his lazy laps.

“A-Astarion. Astarion! Please, I’m gonna—“

But before you can finish, you feel the wave of pleasure crashing over you and your legs are trembling as you find your release. The elf groans again as you orgasm, now suckling and rutting with more fervor as the taste of your ecstasy courses through your veins. When the crescendo wanes and you’re left panting, Astarion retracts his fangs from your neck with a pleased little hum.

Suddenly the bandana is pulled from your eyes, and you blink, adjusting to the light. The vampire is still straddling you, an arrogant smirk plastered across his face as he wipes the final rivet of blood from his mouth and licks it off his thumb. “Satisfied, darling? Have I paid enough attention to you now?”

You groan and buck your hips again, your drenched undergarments barely rubbing against the rogue’s stiff cock. “No!” You shriek as your bound hands pound back into the mattress.

Astarion’s lips are on yours anew, swallowing your protests as he delves his tongue into your eager mouth. You taste the iron of your own blood and groan, writhing against him and desperately pulling at your bindings. When the rogue pulls back he chuckles before easily delving two fingers inside your ruined undergarments, curling his fingers to barely strum against your swollen clit. You try to arch to meet his digits with a desperate, pleading moan, but the weight of him on your legs keeps you pinned, and you cry out.

“Please, please, please.” You whine in a soft chant coming from your lips, still using all of your strength to barely buck your hips. Your hands are twisting desperately in their bindings. “Please, please, please.”

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you, my love?” He coos, continuing to barely tease your throbbing clit with expert fingers. “What is it that you want?”

“You know what I want!” You hiss through gritted teeth, your frustration bubbling over as the rogue torments that sensitive nub between your legs.

“Hmm… perhaps I do. But you need to ask for the things that you want, my sweet. The parasite is gone and I’m no mind reader.”

“Please put your cock inside me! Please.”

“Hmm... there we are. That’s my good girl. Now, was that really so hard, little love?"

Before you can answer, Astarion’s mouth is enveloping yours as he works to quickly remove his own undergarments. The feeling of his barren member on your mound renews your desperation and you keen into your lover's mouth, causing him to smirk into the kiss. He quickly maneuvers his knee to the inside of your thigh, hitching his own leg up to spread you wide, granting him full access to your sex. Deft fingers slide the thin, arousal-soaked cloth of your underwear aside and then you feel the head of his cock pressed just against your entrance.

“Who do you belong to, my love?” The vampire asks when he pulls away from the kiss, scarlet eyes peering into yours. He’s rocking his hips just slightly, the tip of his member barely teasing in and out of your desperate pussy. He brings his hand to the side of your face, stroking his thumb along your cheek.

“You, Astarion.” You whisper, so entranced by the look in his eyes and the feeling of his cock pressing into you that you can barely think or breath. You try to thrust down to meet your lover's miniscule ministrations, but his other hand has your hip pinned in place.

“Give me your hands again.”

You oblige, and the rogue quickly undoes your fastenings, gently pressing his lips into the angry red marks around your wrists. He takes one of your hands and interlaces your fingers in his. Astarion pins one hand back above your head, but allows you the freedom of the other hand, which you bring to the side of his neck.

Then the vampire kisses you once more. As his lips press into yours, his cock slides into your eagerly awaiting cunt. Every ripple of Astarion's thick shaft makes your body sing in delight, and you're groaning into the elf's mouth as he begins to make fervent love to you, hips snapping with vigor as he sheaths and unsheathes himself in a steady rhythm.

“You are… entirely infuriating… and vexing, sometimes. Do you know that, little love?” He purrs between his lips enveloping yours, tongue exploring your mouth. The vampire plunges into you with steady determination, slowly picking up his tempo.

You’re breathless, rolling your hips to meet the rogue’s. Your eyes are shut as you smirk at his comment. “I know.. I just think you’re so sexy when you’re frustrated.” You respond between panting breaths, and that earns you a rough thrust that hits your cervix and knocks the air from your lungs as you moan in surprise.

Astarion’s hand that isn’t intertwined with yours comes under your chin and takes a firm hold, pressing just enough on your windpipe to create the delicious feeling of breathlessness without actually preventing you from breathing. Your eyes snap open from the sensation.

“You. Are. A. Naughty. Girl.” He hisses, eyes boring into your own, face mere inches from yours, and each word punctuated by another forceful snap of his hips. You moan at the feeling of his length slamming into your cervix. By this time, he’s panting and the flush on his ears is rising, and you know he’s close to his own release. One of Astarion's fingers is lingering dangerously close to your mouth as he clutches your neck; you take the digit between your lips and begin to suck.

As the vampire sees your tongue snake around his finger, he’s done for. All resolve is gone, and your lover fucks into you with reckless abandon as you moan around his hand. The grip on your neck tightens as he starts to emit his own cries of pleasure, and your hand wraps tightly onto his neck in response, nails digging into cold flesh.

“Do you see what you do to me?” He asks through gritted teeth as his thrusts become sloppy. You’re seeing stars, and the friction of his pelvis paired with the intense throbbing of your abused pussy is sending you towards a second climax. As your body reaches its crescendo, you release Astarion’s finger from between your lips and cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. The rogue hears your beautiful cry and feels the pulsing of your sex, which finally pushes him over the edge as he spills into you, cock twitching with every new stream of seed.

His mouth is on yours before you finish your strangled cry of release, and Astarion’s works to kiss you down from your incredible high. The vampire releases your neck, and the passionate force of his lips slowly ebbs into a gentle, lazy kiss. Eventually, with both of your bodies fully spent, the rogue rolls onto his side, sliding himself from you and spilling the evidence of your love making across the silky sheets.

Astarion rolls from the bed, and you whine, but he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear as he promises he will be right back. He slips his trousers on and exits the room for a minute, only to return with the book he seemed obsessed with. Part of you is annoyed when the rogue settles back into bed, opening his arm so you can nestle yourself in the crook.

You give him a little pout. “Do you not love me more than you love these books? I’m beginning to worry I’ve coupled myself to another Gale. I was sure that tonight would distract you and I would have you all to myself.”

Astarion chuckles, shaking his head slightly before turning to kiss you on the forehead. “My sweet, surely you know the depths of my love for you far surpass the pages of a book. And you are always distracting... even when I am thinking of something else, I am also thinking of you.”

He shuts the book and taps his hand on the cover, lithe fingers moving to trace the embossed words of the title. “I apologize if I’ve been consumed and you’ve felt neglected, my darling. This book is just… intriguing.”

You turn your head and for the first time, read the title: ‘The Creation of Dhampirs: A Guide.”

Oh.

Your brow furrows as you turn to look at Astarion, and you see a wistful, faraway look in his eyes. This look was different from his unfortunately familiar one that he displayed during flashbacks and night terrors… this one contained hope.

“Are you imagining your future, Astarion?” You ask, sitting up just enough to place a kiss on your lover’s cheek and brush a few wayward curls back into place. “If you are, then I’d better be there by your side.”

The rogue snaps out of his reverie and turns to look at you again, his expression laced with love. He extends his long arm backwards, dropping the tome on the nightstand before placing his hand on your face. Astarion’s thumb strokes your cheek and he sighs happily before whispering, “Yes, you’d better be.”

[midniqhtt]

sirius black

masterlist • the marauders • 07/23/24

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

sirius black two

𑣲 heart stamp I @shadowbriar

A good for nothing like him surely deserve no soulmate, Sirius believes, but when the heart is starved of something, someone, the universe throws him into another round of misery.

𑣲 don’t leave I @14thgalerie

𑣲 little lies I @amiableness

James asks Sirius and Y/n to pretend to date after he blurts out they are to Lily.

𑣲 tulips part 2 part 3 I @/amiableness

After finding out Remus Lupin has found himself a girlfriend, a devastated Y/n L/n asks Sirius Black to help her get over him. Except Sirius has feelings for her.

𑣲 come back, be here part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 I @ellecdc

After sacrificing yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before, you're found on the brink of death. How will Sirius react when he finally gets his love back, but you don't seem to recognize any of them?

𑣲 bartender!sirius I @moonstruckme

𑣲 bet trope I @ddejavvu

𑣲 borrowed sweaters, stolen kisses I @wizardwritings

In a game of Truth or Dare, you’re dared to sneak into the Marauders’ dorm and steal one article of clothing to wear the next day. It just so happens that the jacket you snatched was Sirius’ favorite jumper.

𑣲 lovesick!sirius I @theemporium

𑣲 sirius has a girlfriend I @/theemporium

𑣲 incident with a time turner I @robynlilyblack

When a confrontation with Peter goes wrong, y/n Potter is sent 10 years into the future

𑣲 rain I @/robynlilyblack

Y/n has been in love with James for years, watching painfully from the side-lines as he failed to woo Lily. When they finally get together she finds comfort in her best friend, as time passes she finds herself falling for him but will it end up the same way or will she get her happy ending this time?

𑣲 dulled I @finnwrld

When Arthur couldn’t go to the department of mysteries you had to go instead, knowing you are going to die you use your last amounts of straight to apparate to number 12 Grimmauld Place.

𑣲 puppy I @violetrainbow412-blog

𑣲 dealbreaker I @luveline

you work in a bookstore. sirius keeps finding reasons to need books.

𑣲 chatty!reader I @/luveline

𑣲 the unlikely pair I @daydreams-turned-into-nightmares

a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, both just recently been through breakups, uses each other as rebound dates to the Yule Ball, but the night ended with something a bit more

𑣲 if i tell you I @/daydreams-turned-into-nightmares

you’re in love with him, and he’s in love with you, but he’s too prideful to say anything, and you don’t want to just be another casual flirt. So, neither of you tell the other about your feelings for one another.

𑣲 hypocrisy I @wolfmoonmusic

James doesn’t seem to want anyone other than Lily. So after one point, you decide to stop trying

𑣲 if you love me let me know I @theweasleysredhair

Y/n decides she isn’t going to wait forever for Sirius to make a move... maybe he needs a nudge in the right direction. In which Sirius gets extremely jealous over the prospect of Y/n going on a date with someone other than himself.

𑣲 apparition accident I @mediocre-daydreams

sirius accidentally apparates into your bed instead of his.

𑣲 sweet rubbish I @shadowbriar

Their game of love hate pretend has to put to halt as Sirius gazed into the crystal ball.

𑣲 late night cravings I @bobluvbot

you sneak off the night for a cheeky midnight snack, hoping sirius won’t notice (spoiler alert: he does, and he’s sulky about it)

𑣲 brothers best friend I @lauryri

In which Sirius Black finds comfort in the person he least expects.

𑣲 worth it I @hemmingsleclerc

where Sirius is completely in love with James's sister, but everytime he wants to ask her on a date somehow ends up doing something embarrassing

[puddinqcup]

bedroom eyes

pairing: betty x reader [reader has female genitalia]

cw: smut, tribing, shitty writing, if i missed anything lmk pls! SPOILERS if you haven’t finished with betty

a/n: who would’ve thought date everything would get me out of a huge writing slump 😵‍💫 was looking for smut of my mattress wife but there was NOTHING so i took matters into my own hands. hope you all enjoy, if im able to i do plan to write for more of the characters. wrote it on my phone too and request are welcome 🥳

after talking to everyone in the house you head upset to your bedroom, on your bed you see betty laying down with her eyes closed. she looks so comfortable and pretty it makes you blush.

“hey, lover” betty opens her eyes and holds her arms out towards you “come join me.”

you fall into her arms sinking into her soft chest while she holds you. “you’re so comfortable, you always help me get the best sleep possible.” you shyly look up to her beautiful eyes looking at you lovingly. she lets out a giggle and compliments how cute you look when you’re blushing.

betty feels the same way, before she confessed to you she couldn’t sleep at all. she wanted to tell you her feelings the day you laid down on her but she was worried you wouldn’t feel the same way, once you told her you felt the same way betty was over the moon. you two sleep together every night (you have no choice really) holding each other warmly and giving kisses all over each others face, and of course, betty loved to flirt with you.

“you’re comfortable down there?” betty asks while you deepen your face in her soft chest. you start to speak “how can i not be? other than actually being my bed you make me feel so comfortable.”

now it’s betty’s turn to blush, she loves how you make her feel. you make her feel adored and loved and needed, not like when she was in the warehouse doing nothing. “i feel the same way about you, you’re so sweet. i can’t get enough of you.” you look up at her again and she’s looking right back at you with that soft smile you fell for.

betty starts to sit up on the bed and lifts you up to straddle her thigh, she leans in and gives you a kiss on your cheek, then nose, and finally your lips. you’ve kissed her plenty of times already but no matter how many times you kiss her you feel such a warmth in your chest and stomach, and somewhere else too; and she knows it. betty places her hands on your hip and starts slowly rocking your hips back and forth against her. you let out a small moan in her mouth, your body is heating up, you start moving your hips on your own focusing on the way she flexes her thigh and moves it a tiny bit to make you feel the pleasure she knows you’re always looking for when you guys get horny.

she takes off your shirt and takes off her corset and top. your lips meet again, this time her tongue is sliding in your mouth making you moan into the kiss again. she pulls away and starts kissing down your chest while slipping her fingers on both sides of your waistband pulling them down. you remove the rest of your pants as she begins to remove her bottoms.

“i want you to take everything off, lover” betty looks at you with her seductive eyes watching as you slip your last article of clothing off. betty does the same, maintaining eye contact with you making you blush and look away under her gaze.

betty lets out a soft laugh, “no need to be shy, you’re so perfect.” betty lays down on the bed again not letting go of you, you slowly feel her pussy getting closer to yours as she moves you higher to meet her. she places you closer, you can’t help but give a slight jolt from how warm your pussy together feels. she starts moving your hips, “don’t be scared, you can move. make yourself feel good on me.”

you waste no time and start to move your hips faster, her grip tightens. she loves feeling you this close to her, feeling how wet you are just for her gives her the same pleasure. betty loves knowing she gets you like this, “look at you, look at how beautiful you look when you get like this.” you moan louder, loving the praise she gives you.

you feel your high coming soon, you keep rocking your hips, clit rubbing against hers. betty lets out a moan “fuck, keep going”

you go faster reaching your high, betty wants to make sure you cum first before she does and starts playing with your chest. the pleasure is too much, your stomach tighten and your legs getting weak you let out a breathy sigh.

“we’re not done yet, you’re not the only one cumming today” betty looks at you teasingly and grabs your hips again causing you to give a little jolt from the sensitivity. not wanting to disappoint you let her use your body to reach her climax and you try your best to rock your hips just for her. she loves how you’re still trying to please her, you grab her boobs this time; they barely fit into your hands and you love it. you pinch her nipples rolling them with your fingertips. betty lets out moan after moan, getting higher and louder as she feels herself getting closer. she moves you back and forth a few more times until her movements start staggering “oh my, fuck” betty starts but can’t finish her sentence, she looks down at you laying on chest trying to catch your breath with her tired eyes and she smiles “that felt so good.”

too tired to get up you both fell asleep naked, cuddling, and with a small smile on both of your faces.

end.

| puddinqcup | 2025 prod — do not copy, reuse, or translate anything written on this blog. — like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed :3

[kiwismitten]

Tired words | Wriothesley x GN!reader

Angst/comfort: Being the frontlines for the whole country’s fate can really make a man lose sleep. After the events that took place, and the sudden return of his lover he’s very snippy.

spoilers: main fontaine archon quest!

CW: yelling , reader almost ded , wriothesley kinda ooc (let me know if i missed anything!)

words: 1751

The halls of the Fortress of Meropide have never felt colder as you make your way to your boyfriend’s office. The events of the days before fresh in everyone’s mind. The incident in Poisson only a few days before your return.

You were on an academic trip to Sumeru, learning about the herbal medicines and picking up some fruits and herbs to bring back to Fontaine. As soon as the steam bird articles showed up at your host home’s door the night of the incident, you apologized and began packing your bags. You’ve never moved with such haste. Of course you know about the prophecy, and Wriothesley had told you before he didn’t even know if he was Fontainian and joked a ton about getting turned into water alongside everyone else. You personally, just weren’t willing to let him take that chance.

The rushed trip back still felt like it took twice as long as the venture there. Jogging through the city with your bag still on your back, listening to depressing conversations from the other citizens about their impending fate. Frantically, you reach the Fortress entrance, and make your way down.

That’s how you ended up standing outside your boyfriend’s office, anxiety coursing through your body. Even the fortress was in disarray. Your soft knocks on the door earn no response, so you slowly push the heavy doors open with a loud creek.

“Darling?” Your voice echos through the bottom floor, your eyes gazing over everything before landing on the strange staircase going further down that you never noticed before.You drop your bags at the door before cautiously venturing down. “Wriothesley?”

A strong hand grabs your shoulder from behind you making you gasp.

“What are you doing?” He looks exhausted, his tone of voice far from the playful, carefree Wriothesley you’ve grown attached to. Sounding closer to how he addresses inmates. Heat fills your torso with joy, seeing he’s okay, and you fling yourself at him wrapping your arms around him.

“You’re okay…” His normal scowl doesn’t leave his face. Different again since his face normally softens at your contact.

“Yes, yes I’m okay what are you doing here.” He says the bags under his eyes more pronounced than normal, sparking worry in your brain.

“I heard what happened in Poisson, and I left early,” You stood in front of him staring up at his towering figure. He sighs, wiping his face with his wrapped hand. His exhaustion seemed to be weighing on him harder at your statement.

“Why.. did you have to come back now?” he pinched the bridge of his nose between his pointer finger and thumb. Your joy falters at his display.

“What do you mean darling..” Your arms fall to your sides. He stares at your form, his eyes piercing through you.

“I mean I thought with you away I'd have one less thing to worry about,” Venom laces his words. “Especially coming to the fortress during times like this, I thought I’d finally be able to focus on the prophecy, but now with you here you’ll need me to be with you so often.” Your heart jumps to your throat. He’s never been so cold to you. Has he always seen being with you as a chore, or is it just the high stress of the current situation. The emotions thick in the air make it difficult to think rationally. The salty air filling your lungs feels heavy and overwhelming.

“I’ll get out of the way.. I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Glancing down at your feet.

“Well I am. Now please, I have very important matters to get to.” He pushes past you mumbling under his breath. Stunned in silence, soft tears well in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Slowly, you made your way out of the fortress to stay at a small hotel.

You stayed at the hotel for the night, before the news of an archon going on trial reaches you in the morning. News travels fast in Fontaine, especially when there’s always a journalist creeping in the background. Deciding that staying and rotting in a hotel isn’t how you want to spend your first full day home, and you take a short stroll through the bustling streets. It’s as if no one really minds their impending fate. After reaching the opera epiclese you sit at one of the benches by the fountain. Staring into the water you smile remembering all the times you and Wriothesley sat at the near by benches eating together after his work. How you would lean your head on his shoulder listening to the soft roar of water as it cycles through, but if you were to melt into the sea now, it would be knowing that he brushed you away for being worried about him. A sigh escapes your lips as you continue your stroll, and eventually it gets interrupted by a crowd of people trickling out of the opera house. Gossiping amongst themselves about the archon, and not even batting an eye at the soft patter of rain on pavement.

The rain starts to pick up at an alarming rate, making people rush off under trees, and any form of cover they could find. A somber look rises to your face. “Is this it?” You take a seat on your normal bench, getting soaked in the pelting rain feeling the rain pool at your feet closing your eyes and letting the joyful memories flow through you.

All you really remember is the feeling of water picking you up. Floating through with a peaceful look on your face.Then a graceful arm wrapping around you and bringing you up, and you were suddenly in the air able to breath once again before everything went black.

Waking up in the fortress is never really a heart-warming experience. Especially when it’s in the cold clinical setting of the infirmary. The blurry metallic ceiling is the first thing you see, the bronze color only familiar to the fortress, so you’re immediately aware of where you are. You try to sit up, only to get pushed down by the smaller head nurse.

“Y/N be careful please, you’ve been out for a whole day you’re still healing.” Sigewinne frets over you holding her sticker covered clipboard.

“I feel fine,” You sit up in your bed, feeling the exhaustion hit you. You look around the other beds full of inmates. “I just need some food in me, and I’ll be right as rain.” a smile sheepishly crosses your face at the small joke. Sigewinne frowns and huffs as you pick at the various vital trackers attached to you. She helps a bit and takes out your IV.

“Just like his grace said you would,” you tense at the mention of him forcing a smile. “Just stay here he said to grab him as soon as you’re awake.” Eyes widening, you wait for her to leave before pulling the sheets off of yourself and rushing out of the infirmary. Your vision still blurry from the lack of food. Rushing through the halls, you stop at the canteen, smiling at Bran who waves you over.

“Ah y/n here for your welfare meal?” He smiles softly at your tired form before turning behind him to grab one of the nicer meals. “Courtesy of his grace, eat up.” You slip behind one of the many boxes before sitting on the floor and opening the delicious meal.

Wriothesley walks ahead of Sigewinne his heavy steps unmistakable. When he reaches the infirmary and sees your bed empty he curses under his breath. Sigewinne sighs pouting.

“I did ask them to stay your grace, but they did act weird when I mentioned I was fetching you,” Irritated he walks out, going immediately to the gardes who rat you out immediately.

Too immersed in your delicious food you don’t even notice the heavy steps approaching the canteen.

“What can I do for you your grace,” You stop mid-chew peeking out from the top of the box.

“Have you seen y/n I’m looking for them,” his voice has the carefree energy that you missed so much. His eyes dart around the canteen before meeting yours behind the box before you could duck under again. “Ah, never mind, bran.” his heavy steps approach the box, his shadow looming over as you pop back up looking at your hands. He places a heavy hand on your head.

“Wriothesley,” you say breathlessly, tears threatening to fall again. At the break of your voice, he scoops you into his arms his long strides carrying you to his office. He wraps his arms around you as you feel small water droplets fall onto your clothes.

“y/n..” his voice cracks. You’ve never seen him break down like this, he’s the strong one, the one that never lets his strength falter. “I was so scared, i’m so sorry, I should’ve never said any of that shit to you, I was so stressed out after the fortress almost collapsed to the prophecy. I wasn’t getting enough sleep I was exhausted and I took it out on you. I’m so fucking sorry.” Seeing him crumble on top of you was heart-wrenching. His rambling spilling through his lips as his eyes dart across your face. “When Clorinde brought you onto the ship I just wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do, I tried everything but you felt so cold..” He buries his face in your neck.

“I’m okay Wrio, I don’t know what happened but, I’m here I’m fine,” You wrap your arms loosely around his torso. “Honestly I thought I was gonna die with you angry at me, but now I’m here. Getting pushed away hurt, but we’re both okay,” You mumble into his chest.

“I’ll never speak to you like that again, I don’t think I could ever live with myself knowing you left this world with me angry at you when I had no right to be. All you wanted was to make sure I was okay,” He pulls away and holds your face in his hands. “You’re my whole world and I should’ve held that in the front of my mind this whole time. I don’t think I can say sorry enough my love.” His sharp eyes now soft as he leans in to place a soft caring kiss on your lips.

“We’ll be okay,” you melt into his touch, letting him hold you close

[munnmolads]

Did Rafayel kill Raymond? Theory and Analysis

Raymond dies during Chapter 7 after suffering weird symptoms for several months. We know that Rafayel's painting was the reason for the symptoms, but did he really kill Raymond?

Spoilers for the entire game's story as I refer to several parts of the lore relating to Rafayel and Raymond.

Raymond's case is the first mission that our MC gets as a deepspace hunter. I did cover some details of his death in my Rafayel's bounty theory, but I did take more like a stance assuming Rafayel didn't kill Raymond - atleast, if the bounty was related to Raymond. But now I want to explore the entirety for Raymond's case and if Rafayel truly killed him or not, without considering the bounty on his head.

The commission itself takes place in Chapter 2, but Raymond's condition started half a month ago which we can assume happened before the main story actually starts. I'll make summaries of the important stuff relating to Raymond and his death, and then ponder some common questions about all of this.

Summary of what happened during Chapter 2

MC and Zayne arrive to Raymond's house, the founder of Xander Sciences. Zayne to conduct basic health examination and MC to inspect the house for wanderers. Raymond tries to recruit Zayne to Xander Sciences, and boasts about the benefits they have. He finally tries to provoke Zayne to reconsider by mentioning him not being curious how Raymond hasn't died yet.

After Zayne has done his job, a wanderer appears to Raymond's collection room and MC and Zayne defeat it. MC can't shake a suspicious feeling about the painting in the room, and when she resonates with it, she sees a peculiar illusion. She takes the painting back to Hunter's Association HQ for examination and finds out Rafayel has painted the painting.

Aside from what we know from the meeting itself, Thomas gave this description when Raymond bought the painting, and this in-game article "Stendhal syndrome? Mental health issues caused by wanderers? Or a haunted painting??" in more detail about his condition. You can share that article to Rafayel to possibility to ask about his blood, but he dodges the question.

Confronting Rafayel in his home, he tries to slither away from the allegiations that he would be resposible for the wanderer, and then "curiously" tries to infuse a drop of his blood to the coral stone he used for the paintings. This causes a wanderer to show up, and after coercing MC to accept a position as his bodyguard, Rafayel gives the coral stone to MC.

Summary of what happens in Chapter 7 and before it

During Chapter 7 reporter Joe is trying to get a scoop out of Rafayel while stalking him and MC, and once he is caught, he spills the beans and tells Raymond is dead. Joe tells that he was found drowned in his bathtub, rumors saying he had bunch of fish-scale cuts in his skin. Police had searched his home, and found nothing, no traces of other people entering the room. The only thing that was remarkable was that the painting Rafayel had painted had vanished from his collection and because of Raymond's reputation, police is trying to cover the case up quickly.

After Joe had told his piece, Rafayel threatened him to tell his workplace about his stalking behavior and cancelling his exclusive column interview, which could cause Joe losing his job. Rafayel "graciously" then hired Joe to find out about who is trying to cover up Raymond's death.

At this point it has been over 7 months that he has been suffering these symptoms if we consider that Zayne mentions in Chapter 5 it has been 6 months since Grandma died in Chapter 4. The story so far doesn't really confirm or deny that Raymond was in that state all the time, but we can assume he was.

Aftermath from his death

In Bouquet's and Dirges, Rafayel attends to his aunt's, Talia's wedding and tells the news of Raymond being dead. Talia sighs in relief and says at least they can rest for a while. Later Rafayel attends to Raymond's funeral in his home, ignoring the nasty looks from everyone else and bringing a bright bouquet of flowers symbolising "freedom, rebirth and happiness". Talia is also attending the funeral but assumably didn't arrive there with Rafayel and she sings a dirge - not to Raymond, but someone else.

Raymond's mother loses her composure, and starts causing a scene, calling Rafayel a murderer and how it was time for Raymond's rebirth. Rafayel once again ignores the looks from other people and leaves the funeral.

In the end of Zayne's story branch we learn that since of Raymond's death, Xander Sciences gets acquired by Ever because they were the biggest shareholder for his company.

Rafayel's motives to torture and possible to kill Raymond

It's undeniable that Rafayel is behind Raymond's condition from the start - even in Addictive pain, it's stated that Rafayel started experimenting with mixing his blood into pigments back during his professor days. His intention was to get the painting to a renowned collector - it could be that his target was Raymond for a long time until he actually managed to put his plan into fruition.

We know from Micro Universe and Siren's Song that Lemurians have been experimented on for their unique abilities and blood. These experiments have been really painful for Lemurians and possibly have forced them to scatter around away from their home. Rafayel having the responsibility to his people is trying to protect them and secure their home from invaders exploiting them so they can return home.

While it's not directly said who is in the immediate responsibility doing the research since it could be either Gaia Research Center or Xander Sciences, but both of these institutes are funded heavily by Ever. In Final Farewell Abyssal Chaos commission we can see Ever logos plastered on the walls during the puzzles and it's referenced in the commission story itself that the glass cylinder in the sanatorium is remarkably similar to one in Raymond's house. Gaia Research center is mentioned in Micro Universe Chapter 1, where Michael researches LCMECs (Lemurian Cardiac Microvascular Endothelial Cells, mentioned in Chapter 5). While Xander Sciences isn't directly mentioned in relation to the experiments made on Lemurians, but Xander Sciences is founded by Raymond and he has the Lemurian skeleton in his house. It's very possible both institutes work under Ever to do research on Lemurians.

Why Raymond and MC were the only ones who could see the illusion?

Assumably Raymond has made experiments with Lemurian's cells/blood for himself - this could be why his vital signs show improvement and the monitors show his age far younger than he actually is. This is most likely related to Lemurians living for a very long time - MC's note about Talia remarks her being Rafayel's aunt but looking like her age.

It could be that the coral stones work as a hallucinogenic for Lemurians and that feature has transferred to Raymond with him having Lemurian cells in him now. This is probably why he (and partially MC) was so drawn to the painting so strongly.

As for MC, I feel Rafayel never meant her to see the illusion, but understood why she saw it. She saw it because she tried to resonate with it, which Rafayel seems to understand in Chapter 7. With her Evol, she can match her frequency with other people and objects to enchance their abilities. I think her matching the frquency to the coral stone let her see the illusion.

How does the painting work and what happened to it?

I have been thinking about the painting and how it worked. We know that Rafayel used his blood in addition to the painting from Addictive Pain and the coral stone from the main story. We see repeatedly that Rafayel's blood attracts wanderers - first in Chapter 2 in his home when he purposefully cuts his finger to "test the coral stone", and the second time in Chapter 7 when Deluge Wyrmlord attacks MC and Rafayel after a cat scratches him. There is also a phone call "Sense of Security" at affinity level 127 which alludes that Rafayel purposefully summoned low-level wanderers near his home to invite MC over, which could be that he used his blood for that.

Rafayel explains during Chapter 7 that the coral stones when they are ground into a pigment can make strong illusions which created by the artist. The coral stones also have ability to cause metaflux fluctuations, and MC managed to create a protofield by resonating with Rafayel's sample later in Chapter 7.

I think Rafayel's original intent with the painting was to summon a Wanderer in to Raymond's collection room - he could have died to the wanderer in Chapter 2 if it wasn't for MC and Zayne stopping it. The cuts in the skin could have caused the fresh blood to get a contact to the coral stone which would have summoned the wanderer. It could be possible that Zayne did draw a bit of blood from Raymond during the examination, and after Zayne leaving, Raymond probably could have touched the painting with the fresh wound, causing the wanderer to appear. Atleast, that's my only hypothesis for now.

It's good to note that during Chapter 2 MC did send the painting to the Hunter's Association for investigation, but assumably it was returned back to Raymond once they had finished the investigation. During Chapter 7 the journalist Joe mentions the painting vanished from Raymond's collection.

Honestly, I think it's most likely stolen. It could be possible the painting had been destroyed by accident or on purpose before Raymond died, but in addition to my ramblings in the Bounty post. I think the painting could be very important later on the story. It's unlikely that it got destroyed and not leave any traces behind from that.

Possible causes for Raymond's death

We know that Raymond was drowned in his bathtub. It was also rumored that he had cuts in his arms and legs, like his skin looked bunch of fish scales. It sounds a bit too specific to be completely made up, but it could be possible. I'll treat this information as if it was true. (TW: talking about the cuts in more detail)

The cuts on Raymond's skin could be a form of self-harm caused from his madness, and eventually collapsed into the bathtub from the blood loss. It could be that the illusion Rafayel created in the painting eventually made him go insane enough to do it. It also could be that there was a another wanderer in the painting who caused the cuts, but I doubt it.

I was also thinking maybe Raymond was partially turning into a Lemurian because of him getting too much treatment with Lemurian cells. This could be why he was in a battub and had the cuts that looked like fish scales - maybe he was forming actual scales on his skin. Him being a human most likely would mean that his body couldn't take the transformation and he died because of that. This could be also why Ever would have more reason to cover up the death - they couldn't let anyone know that their experiments are going this wrong as well as benefitting his death by acquiring Xander Sciences.

These again sound reasons that excuse that Rafayel didn't kill Raymond - it's because I don't really believe that Rafayel would have gone in person to his home and kill him. In addition that the surveillance in Raymond's home didn't detect anything, but also, Raymond dying could be worse outcome for Rafayel than keeping him alive. That gave Ever free reign over Xander Sciences, and also put all eyes on Rafayel with everyone suspecting he murdered Raymond. Of course it could be that hindsight is 20/20 and it could be he didn't see all that coming. He allures in Bouguets and Dirges that this isn't over yet.

Rafayel definitely isn't innocent in all this and he would be vengeful and resourceful enough to kill Raymond. And seemingly the initial way of luring a wanderer into his home seems more his way of killing someone - indirect and he could claim not being any of part of it. If he meant to kill him. Similarly in Siren's song when he kills Mr. Fallon, he kills him with a song - but who would actually believe people who think he is a siren?

I'm really stumped how he would be able to kill Raymond without being seen/heard at all by the surveillance. Not to mention the painting - why he would take the painting back or get rid of it? Or why he would demand Joe to find out who is trying to cover up Raymond's death? Or why he would wait for 7 months to "finish the job"?

Who would be the murderer if not Rafayel?

I did cover this topic on the bounty post and earlier in this post so I won't be repeating myself too much here. My personal headcanon for now goes to that Raymond died because of he was slowly turning into a lemurian, his body couldn't take it, collapsed into the bathtub from blood loss and eventually drowned.

I also mentioned that the painting was likely stolen and it could be important later on the story. If it was stolen, I am kind of hoping it could have been Sylus and he would have also been behind of killing Raymond as well. I feel that Raymond's death had couple important story catches for Rafayel, so I feel it could be that the painting itself was the creater motive in his death. Though I have to admit that I love juicy drama and I would be so ready to get some popcorn and see some sexy enemy banter between Sylus and Rafayel.

We can't also ignore Ever's involvement. Ever has been the biggest beneficiary from Raymond's death - they acquired his company and getting free reign on it, meaning they have more power over that area than before. The painting is most likely a curioisity as well to them, and they would have a perfect scapegoat for the murder as well. They want the investigation to be over as soon as possible - and have the resources to do so.

All in all, I feel Raymond did pick a wrong Lemurian to make enemies with. While I don't feel like Rafayel was the one doing the killing blow, he definitely wanted to incacipate Raymond for a long time, probably just for the revenge and seeing MC again. It was a win-win situation for him.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Gobblick

Debut: Mario & Luigi: Brothership

The embargo on Brothership enemies that-I'm-not-sure-if-we-actually-had-or-not is OVER! Which MOD TWEETER is happy about, because she finally gets to talk about her favorite creature from the whole game: GOBBLICK!

From the success of fictional pitcher plants like Victreebel and...er...Victreebel, it's no secret that they've captured the hearts of millions worldwide! And yet, finding a decent video game pitcher plant in this day and age is hard. And that's sad! Especially since Wet-Dry World has arbitrarily decided my rent should be paid for in articles about video game pitcher plants!

Gobblick is SUCH a good pitcher plant design though, definitely worth the wait!! Look at that gut! Those spots! That big, long licker! The ridges on its leaf and lower jaw, seamlessly combining pitcher plant and bear trap aesthetics!

But, of course, the BIG show-stopper: EYES IN A VOID, BABY!!!! I love it!! It works PERFECT with the pitcher plant design! In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they added them to REAL pitcher plants in a future update! They even remind me of that one talking pot in Winnie-the-Pooh that stuck onto my mind since I watched it as a child!

Since they're on the INSIDE of what is definitively its mouth, though, that raises the question...are these Gobblick's eyes at all? What if they're the eyes of something else? But...what would that something else be? A spider? A Lickitung? Perhaps it's the eyes of a treeshrew, and it's attacking out of embarrassment of us catching it using the bathroom? I'm sorry, hypothetical treeshrew! But you probably shouldn't stay in there, if that's the case, even if you're shy!

Or, most likely, these ARE the eyes of the noble Gobblick, and it uses them to watch its food go down! When you're a pitcher plant, is there honestly anything better to do?

Yes! And that thing is: attacking plumbers! Gobblick is such a fan of battling Mario & Luigi that he has not one, but TWO battles against them! That may not seem like a lot, but that's more than most Mario bosses in most single mainline games!

"Well, that's fine and all, but I bet none of its attacks include the coveted Root Attack," you might scoff. And you'd be wrong! Although real pitcher plant roots are, frankly, not really something to write home about, the root arms of Gobblick are able to dig through ground as they approach the brothers, in a way similar to Whispy Woods! Kirby's Dream Land 2 fans rejoice!

But, this isn't even Gobblick's only form! In fact, the first time I saw and fell in love with Gobblick was in its SECONDARY form! Warning, however, that this form is built off of integral spoilers for the game, so if you click below, do so wisely...!

Name: Glohm Gobblick

Debut: Mario & Luigi: Brothership

WOW! If you loved Gobblick already, then I hope Glohm Gobblick was worth the wait–it certainly was, for me!

Wine-red is just a perfect yet underrated color, especially for pitcher plants! I couldn't believe I had never thought about making a reddish pitcher plant prior, myself, but that just goes to show how ingrained plant color stereotypes are! I saw a picture of a pitcher eating a rat once, and it never escaped my mind, and THAT was red!

But Glohm Gobblick isn't just this beautiful shade of red for no reason! It's under the effect of being Glohmed, which makes anyone other than Mario & Luigi more powerful while amplifying their desire to be isolated and lonely! And unlike some other characters, there's nobody around that's worried for our poor friend Gobblick...it exists only as an optional boss you can come across on your own. Don't worry, Gobblick, we love you...!

Gobblick is never truly alone, however. Thankfully, the game specifies that this is not the Gobblick, but a Gobblick! It's one of MANY! Please expect Gobblick to make its way alongside Toads and Piantas as one of the main recurring Mario People, being charming background fodder for decades to come.

Or not, since it's canonically from another world. Too bad.

This should cover my Wet-Dry Rent for the next few weeks! Join me next time when I finally cover the last in the top three most popular video game pitcher plants: Weepinbell. Bye.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Price to power to size to portability, the AirFanta 3Pro is one of the best on the market. Here's the latest review (Also preserved in our archive)

Afiliate links if you want this guy to make a buck from your purchase: www.amazon.com/stores/AirFanta/page/0D35BA0F-6AFE-48BB-BB83-E984C65192D4?asc_campaign=c192889518f863d96d278a446b3a951d&asc_source=01H1P39M5ZSG9J6WR6B1HBK9M0&language=en_US&linkCode=sl2&linkId=be7b5afa91953d14a40a0b6fb293d6aa&ref_=as_li_ss_tl&tag=namespacebran492-20

air-fanta.com/?dt_id=2137762

AirFanta is a name that I hear more about every day. While it’s a relatively niche company, it’s quickly becoming well-known – at least within the air quality ‘enthusiast’ community – for performant yet affordable air purifiers and air quality monitors. I’ve been using the AirFanta G2 Air Quality Monitor for quite a few months now, but the two products that have always interested me the most are 3Pro and 4Lite air purifiers.

After having the 3Pro set up inside my office for over two weeks now, I am happy to be able to present my full review of the device. For anyone unaware, this purifier is designed to filter a massive amount of air (we will discuss the CADR and more soon!) at a relatively affordable price. It does this by being essentially a pre-assembled CR (Corsi-Rosenthal) Box – a form of air purifier that was itself created due to the need for affordable and effective air purification devices.

While the 3Pro doesn’t embrace the typical DIY aspect of traditional CR Boxes, it has the advantage of having proven performance (no need to worry about whether your DIY box is effective!) and being ready to go out of the box. However, perhaps my favourite aspect of this device over traditional CR Boxes is how easily obtainable it is. While this probably isn’t an issue for anyone in the U.S. or Europe, I find it hard to source good HEPA filters in New Zealand at an affordable price. The 3Pro ensures I don’t run into this issue.

In today’s review of the AirFanta 3Pro, I want to answer a few key questions. Firstly, how does it perform? Secondly, how does it compare to more ‘traditional’ air purifiers? Finally, and most importantly, is the 3Pro worth the markup compared to making your own CR Box at home? By the end of the article, I will share the answers and my opinions regarding each of these questions. Let’s dive in!

The key selling point of the AirFanta 3Pro is its fantastic CADR – especially at this price. For anyone new to air purifiers, CADR stands for clean air delivery rate, which indicates how much air an air purifier can clean and deliver in a set period. The measurement typically used for CADR is CFM, or cubic feet per minute. A higher CADR in CFM indicates the purifier delivers more clean air.

CADR is calculated by considering both the filter efficiency and the airflow through the filters, making it a much better metric (and the standard for air purifiers) than airflow alone. Most CADR tests use a room of around 30m3 and test how much faster the purifier removes particles from the air than if they were left to settle naturally without any other influences.

So, what is the CADR of the 3Pro? It is quite impressive, 413cfm (702 m3/h) at full speed. To best put this in perspective, I recommend reading the fantastic HouseFresh review to see how it compares to other devices currently on the market (spoiler alert; it performs very favourably). I also believe these official figures, as multiple other sources have confirmed them.

The AirFanta 3Pro uses HEPA H11 filters, which are rated to provide ≥ 95% filtration. It’s worth noting that while this figure may not seem that high and that while many air purifiers use higher-rated filters, the H11 filters used here aren’t necessarily bad. That is because, unlike respirators and masks, air purifiers are not designed to purify the air as best possible on a single pass. Rather, if an air purifier can continually filter the same air after multiple passes through the filter, the particle count and concentration will be significantly reduced.

This is important to note because H11 filters are less dense, allowing for better airflow and generally with less noise. Compared to masks, you can think of the balance between filtration and breathability – generally, the more filtration a mask or respirator provides, the less breathable it is. The same goes for air purifiers. The key difference here is that purifiers are designed to have air pass through them multiple times, unlike a mask or respirator, which only has one chance to filter the air before the wearer breathes it. This is why, despite having ‘only’ an H11 filter, the 3Pro can achieve a fantastic CADR.

Of course, this is a very simple explanation, but it’s important to clarify this because I can predict many questions asking, ‘But why weren’t better filters such as HEPA H13 filters used?’. While I can’t speak for the exact answer (you’d have to ask Adam from AirFanta about that!), it’s likely to strike a balance between single-pass filtration performance, airflow, and noise level. While we’ll dive into it soon, I believe complaints about the H11 filter will quickly disappear once you see the performance that the AirFanta 3Pro has to offer.

It’s also worth noting that carbon filters are available, which will provide filtration through adsorption for VOCs and many odours. While I didn’t get these filters to test, some people will opt for them to help manage VOCs. Since these add another layer to the filter, they will likely slightly drop the CADR, but probably not enough to make any significant impact (and, of course, the extra filtration is a big benefit).

AirFanta also has a full list of third-party certifications and test results, which can be viewed here. Interestingly, both bacterial efficiency and viral efficiency reports from Guangzhou Institute of Microbiology Group Co., Ltd. (a CNAS-accredited laboratory) have been provided, and both reports show a > 99.99% decrease in particle concentration after 60 minutes of use in a 30m3 room. The bacterial test goes further and shows the results after 15 minutes, 30 minutes, and 45 minutes. These results show a ≥ 95.63%, ≥ 99.91% and 99.99% drop in tested particles, respectively.

These results show that, at least in a room around 30m3 in size, the AirFanta 3Pro can reduce bacterial and viral particles by ≥ 99.9% in 30 minutes, with 60 minutes seeing a near complete removal of such particles. While we can’t tell exactly what size the particles were in this testing (at least not without paying for access to the original standards), these results are very promising. Potentially worth noting is that since the 3Pro is rated for 702 m3/h, there would have been around 23 air changes within one hour in the 30m3 test chamber. Therefore, the ≥ 95.63% is after almost six air changes, and ≥ 99.91% after around 12.

Of course, these tests and the stated CADR are at the device’s maximum fan speed, which isn’t ideal in many situations. While it’s important to know a device’s maximum performance when needed, it’s more likely you’ll want to leave the device running at a lower speed either all the time or at least quite regularly. Below are the stated CADRs at different fan speeds:

6 – 413CFM 5 – 374CFM 4 – 321CFM 3 – 247CFM 2 – 141CFM 1 – 57CFM Of course, I was also curious to run some tests myself, but I must make the disclaimer that my tests are far from scientific. That said, I wanted to perform some testing similar to a real-life setting where the AirFanta 3Pro is likely to be used. As such, I decided to set up a test room. I measured this room to be 25.6m3, which is about the size of a standard bedroom (it is a bedroom!). While this room is smaller than what I believe this device is intended for, it’s the most controllable room in my house regarding airflow as it only has one door and one window, which can easily be closed and no other forms of ventilation or air disturbances.

In this room, I burned incense until I reached a PM2.5 concentration of 500ug/m3. However, since I can’t exactly control the PM concentration, it ended up being somewhere between 500 and 600 in my tests. I then put the incense out and did a control test to see how long it took the particles to settle without any assistance at all. This took around 90 minutes, and I used this as my baseline.

I monitored the particle concentrations with five AirGradient monitors that were located in each corner and the centre of the room. I then reran this experiment three more times – once with the purifier at maximum speed, once at half speed, and once at the minimum speed to see how long the concentration took to reach < 5ug/m3. I measured the particle concentration by averaging the data from all five monitors to ensure the whole room had been filtered. Here are my results.

In this graph, you can see the baseline data in blue (labelled Ambient) and the particle concentration drop from the AirFanta 3Pro at maximum speed (speed 6) in red. As you can see, it took around 90 minutes for the particle count to drop to < 5ug/m3 without the purifier running but less than 20 minutes with the device at maximum speed. I was very impressed by these first results, and while I wouldn’t want to run the device at full speed often as it is loud, I appreciate having a good peak performance for times when you need to clean the air in a room quickly.

I reran this test, but this time with the 3Pro at half speed (speed 3) and was impressed by the relatively low performance drop. I was worried my results were incorrect, and I reran this three times, but each result was within one minute of the initial result. It looks like a large chunk of the device’s performance is retained between the higher speeds, even though the noise level decreases significantly. This gave me high hopes for the 3Pro’s performance at minimum speed.

Unfortunately, but perhaps not unexpectedly, the device performed far worse at the lowest speed (speed 1). While the particle concentration did drop more quickly than without the device, it was vastly slower than at the faster speeds. It is worth noting that this is not bad at all, as the device is very quiet at this speed and we can see the performance is clearly there, if needed, just turn the device to a higher speed. However, I had inflated hopes after seeing the great performance at higher speeds. Of course, this does match with the stated speed 1 CADR which is roughly 1/8 of the maximum CADR at speed 6.

If we add the times it took the 3Pro to reduce the PM concentration to below 5ug/m3 at each speed setting, we can see that it took between 17.3 minutes and 80.1 minutes to clean the room, depending on the speed. Interestingly, between the higher speeds (speeds 3-6), there appears to be little performance drop-off but a significant improvement in noise levels. At the slow end, the device takes a long time to filter the room, and if you want to use these near-silent speeds, you will probably want to have the device constantly on.

It’s worth noting that previously, the AirFanta 3Pro came with a voltage dial on the adapter. This could be used to adjust the speed, and many reviews of the device still refer to this voltage dial (essentially, a speed dial). Newer versions come with a speed dial with speeds 1-6, so I have referred to speeds instead of voltages for this section.

Before concluding this section, I was also curious how this device would perform if I lit incense in the room while the air purifier was on. I didn’t have a reason for doing this other than curiosity. Still, considering the stellar performance at the higher fan speeds, I wondered how the purifier would handle a pollutant source emitting particles while the device was running. Below, you can see the results (keeping in mind that this same room reaches over 1000ug/m3 when burning incense without an air purifier).

As you can see, the AirFanta 3Pro significantly reduced the maximum particle concentration in the room and rapidly cleaned the air once the incense finished burning. I would be very confident using a device such as this even during periods of heavy pollution, such as during wildfire season.

Overall, I’m quite impressed with the performance of the AirFanta 3Pro, and although it’s loud at full speed, it’s great to know that it’s more than capable of cleaning a small to medium-sized room quickly when needed. Larger rooms will take longer to filter, but I am confident this device can do it based on this performance.

If you prefer a quieter device, you can still use the AirFanta 3Pro, but you will want to leave it at a lower speed and constantly have it on. Thankfully, at the lower speeds, it’s a relatively quiet device, and I found it easy to work even with the purifier constantly on – as long as it was set to a lower speed, such as 1 or 2.

On the certifications page (located here), AirFanta also discloses and publically makes its results from non-performance-related certifications publicly available. There are a few pertinent and important documents here, so let’s discuss these before moving on. For the 3Pro, we can find the following documents provided:

UL507 certificate of AirFanta 3Pro CE-EMC certificate of AirFanta 3Pro and 4Lite CE-LVD certificate of AirFanta 3Pro and 4Lite FCC certificate of AirFanta 3Pro and 4Lite California Air Resources Board certification of Airfanta 3Pro Let’s review these individually, beginning with the UL507 certificate at the top. This certification might seem minor, but this is a safety standard for low and mid-powered fans such as those in PCs, kitchen hood vents, and, obviously, some air purifiers. The documentation for this certification is extensive (around 200 pages long), but this certification ensures the fans on the 3Pro are safe from a range of potential issues.

The next two certifications, both CE certificates from the European Union, indicate that the device meets EMC (electromagnetic compatibility) and LVD (low voltage directive) requirements. These are essentially further safety tests and indicate that the device is safe and provides high protection from potential EMC and LVD dangers.

The FCC certificate shows that the AirFanta 3Pro complies with FCC requirements, which are pertinent to customers from the United States. Still, these certifications are also helpful for trust-building with global customers. While I’m not U.S.-based, I certainly feel more confident in a product if it’s also FCC-compliant.

Finally, the CARB (California Air Resources Board) certification shows that the AirFanta 3Pro complies with California’s electrical safety and ozone requirements. This is particularly important as ozone can be a big issue with some air purifiers, and it’s reassuring to know that this is not an issue in the case of the AirFanta 3Pro.

If you’ve ever seen a CR Box, you will already know exactly what to expect from the 3Pro because that’s exactly what it is – a CR Box with pre-chosen parts that come as one ready-to-assemble package. While CR boxes aren’t that hard to assemble, the 3Pro streamlines the process and removes the difficulty of selecting and choosing your own parts. While some enthusiasts might opt for another CR Box, many other prospective customers will appreciate this approach.

When you open the 3Pro’s box, you will be met with six ‘layers’ that must be assembled. This is a very clean approach, as it means that the packaging for the device is relatively compact (albeit still quite heavy), and it even means that the device can be transported and reassembled easily. While it would be a stretch to call this device portable (that’s what the AirFanta 4Lite and SmartAir QT3 are for!), this means it is far more compact than other air purifiers with similar CADRs. While it is still quite large, you could easily take it on the road and use it at hotels, or perhaps even fly with it if you are taking large suitcases.

Back to actually assembling the product! Once you open the box, you will see six panels layered on top of one another. These are the cube’s six sides, with four being HEPA filters, one being a solid plastic base for the device, and the final being the top, where the four fans are located. Assembling the device is easy, and you will want to place the base on the ground before slotting the four filters into it. The only potential difficulty with assembling this purifier is holding the four sides in place as you slot the top on, but even this is quite straightforward with the included velcro intended for exactly this purpose.

A manual is included, but the device is so easy to put together and take apart that I can’t imagine anyone ever using it past the first assembly. Even then, it’s not really needed, as assembling the device is quite self-explanatory. The only note I think might be important to the user is that the mesh surface on the filters should be facing outwards (not the filtering surface, which should face inwards).

All of this is to say that assembling the device is very straightforward, and no one should be scared away or turned off this device because it has a small DIY element. It’s also a bit easier to assemble than other CR boxes as the slots have already been cut out of the base plate, and everything can be put together without the need for glue, tape, or other materials. Perhaps more helpful, the filters have already been chosen, and there is no need to shop around for the best price-performance filter.

Once assembled, the device takes the shape of quite a compact CR Box. On top of that, I must add that I think this device also looks a lot better than any traditional CR Box – at least any that I’ve ever made! While it still has an industrial look, it’s a device that could quite easily fit into a classroom, office, or room without attracting too much attention. While I value aesthetics much less than performance, I appreciate having a device that looks good, too – especially if it can blend in.

Once assembled, the device feels quite solid, and despite there being no adhesive or tape used in the assembly of the purifier, I feel confident lifting it and moving it without dislodging the pieces. With that said, I tend to lift the device from the bottom and hold the top down to ensure none of the pieces slide out from their intended positions.

On top of the purifier are four large fans connected to a controller that will allow you to adjust the speed of the device. These fans look almost identical to large PC fans, and they’re held in place by a wire bracket that also serves as an extra layer of protection to stop any children or animals from getting fingers or paws into the fans. That said, if you have the device around children, you may want to place it up higher so they can’t easily reach the fans.

That’s really all there is to the design of this device. It’s very simple, but it’s also affordable and performant. While some might miss the smart features and connectivity of more pricey air purifiers, the two types of devices cater to very different customers. Overall, I’m a fan of this straightforward approach, which reminds me of the SmartAir Sqair.

The AirFanta 3Pro uses four 140mm fans to push air through the filters. Characteristically, smaller fans tend to have higher-pitched sounds than larger fans and the AirFanta 3Pro sits somewhere in the middle as it uses medium-sized fans. If you have a desktop PC with a case fan (not the other fans, such as the higher-pitched CPU fan), you’ll likely already know what these fans sound like, as most desktop cases use 120mm or 140mm fans. This isn’t an unpleasant sound, but it is quite audible.

To see how loud the AirFanta 3Pro is, I conducted noise tests at 30cm and 2 metres with a sound level metre that measures in dBA (A-weighted decibel). dBA differs from traditional dB because it is adjusted for the human ear’s sensitivity to different frequencies. Low and very high frequencies are de-emphasized, mimicking how humans perceive loudness. In other words, it’s a better representation of the actual noise level than dB for a device such as an air purifier. However, I do want to note this as many other websites use dB, which will explain why my results are significantly different.

For further context, here are a few examples of the volumes of some noises in dBA. Obviously, these can vary, and especially with dBA, they will vary between different devices. However, they are rough examples:

10 dBA – Breathing or leaves rustling: Extremely quiet. 30 dBA – Whispering: Comparable to a quiet library. 40 dBA – Refrigerator hum: A typical low background noise. 50 dBA – Moderate rainfall: Light, soothing noise. 60 dBA – Normal conversation: The sound of talking at a close distance. 70 dBA – Vacuum cleaner: Considered moderate noise, can be annoying over time. 80 dBA – Heavy traffic or a loud alarm clock: Noise becomes uncomfortable after prolonged exposure. As you can see, at the lowest speeds, the 3Pro doesn’t add much to the noise of most rooms, but at the highest speeds, it can sound almost as loud as a vacuum cleaner (provided you are close to it). This is a lot of variation, but I like how this device gives the user full control over speed and noise, allowing them to pick a good balance.

I think most people will have this device running on speed 2 or 3, and both sounds are very manageable at a distance. If you do want a short burst of cleaning, the device will be significantly louder, and that’s why I only recommend using the higher speeds when needed.

When it comes to power consumption, the device can go from very low power to relatively high power. Here is a list of the wattage and voltage at each fan speed:

6 – 33.2 watt – 12v 5 – 27.4 watt – 11v 4 – 18.9 watt – 9.3v 3 – 11.1 watt – 7.3v 2 – 4.7 watt – 4.8v 1 – 2.2 watt – 3.0v I won’t dive into power costs here because those vary greatly depending on where you reside, but I hope these specifications can give some insights. What’s most impressive to me is how much range this device has, whether we are discussing volume or power draw. There is such a large range that you can choose exactly what setting works best for you and leave the device to it.

The AirFanta 3Pro costs $149 or $159 (USD) depending on whether you opt for the CE-certified or CARB-certified version (the CARB variant is the lower priced of the two). It’s surprising to see a different price on these two units, but I assume it’s due to extra costs, either with the CE certification or getting the device into Europe. Either way, if you’re in the U.S. (or any non-EU country), the CARB variant will work, and that’s the model I received.

In the box, you will get six panels to assemble the 3Pro. This includes four HEPA H11 filters, which, as per AirFanta, should be good to last 6-12 months, depending on air quality conditions. In most cases, I would assume these filters will last closer to 12 months, but those who experience severe wildfire seasons or whose homes are exposed to consistent year-round pollution may need to replace the filters more regularly.

When you need your first filter replacement, you can opt for the default H11 filters or H11 filters with activated carbon. Interestingly, it doesn’t seem you can choose the filters you get with the device initially. If you want activated carbon filters from the get-go, you must purchase the device alongside an extra pack of filters. The activated carbon filters will set you back $74.99 compared to the basic filters, which cost $54.

The filters aren’t cheap, but it’s important to remember that each filter replacement pack you order has four individual filters, which is a substantial amount of filter materials. It’s also important to note that, unfortunately, you will need to purchase official AirFanta filters as they are smaller than most square HEPA filters, and other filters will not fit on this device. I don’t think this is a big deal, as I appreciate the smaller form factor of this device over larger devices, and even four HEPA filters from other brands will not be cheap.

If we estimate that most users use each set of filters for around nine months, your yearly filter costs for non-activated carbon filters will be $67.5. On the other hand, if you opt for the extra VOC adsorption of the carbon filters, you are looking at an ongoing cost of just under $100 per year. This is in a similar price range to other equally performant air purifiers, and this device’s initial cost is also much lower.

While power cost also needs to be factored into the ongoing cost equation, that cost will vary significantly depending on your air purifier usage (hours, speed, etc) and location. However, regardless of usage patterns, you should plan to spend between $67 and $100 on replacement filters for this device every year.

Overall, I’ve been very happy with the AirFanta 3Pro. While it’s not a perfect air purifier – if one even exists – this is a fantastic device that balances many difficult factors. Ultimately, it comes in as an affordable air purifier that doesn’t skimp on performance. In fact, it has a higher CADR than many more (and much more) expensive air purifiers. Furthermore, it offers a wide range of speeds that allow the user to choose the ideal balance between speed and sound for the setting.

I’ve always been a fan of the CR box concept, but I think the AirFanta 3Pro takes this a step further and, due to this, will appeal to many more people. While I’ve never had an issue constructing CR boxes, I often have difficulty sourcing the parts (especially good filters), and I appreciate how the 3Pro can provide the same or better performance at a slightly higher price while also simplifying the shopping process for me.

Surprisingly, for a device of this size, it’s also quite portable, and you will be hard-pressed to find anything that provides a higher CADR than this device while also being ‘packable’. While I still wouldn’t go so far as to say it can fit in a backpack, it can definitely fit in a car or suitcase and is ideal for longer trips where you might be staying in hotels with unknown air quality. If, on the other hand, you want to use it around the house, it’s also a great device.

The biggest disadvantages I see with the AirFanta 3Pro are the sound and the design. There’s no denying that while the device is powerful, it’s also loud at its higher speeds. While this isn’t unusual for an air purifier, it is worth noting that you probably won’t want to run this device at its higher speeds unless necessary. I usually find myself using speed 2 or 3, which is the sweet spot for most users. On the upside, the lower speeds are almost silent, and although they significantly diminish performance, they are good for users who are okay with constantly running the device.

The design may also bug some users. While I don’t mind (and actually like) the device’s industrial design, I know some people don’t use CR boxes due to the design. If you don’t like the look of CR boxes, the chances are you also won’t like the design of this device. With that said, this design allows this device to have such a good price-to-performance ratio, and I think many potential customers will appreciate this more.

Overall, the AirFanta 3Pro is a cost-effective air purifier that should be on your radar – especially if price is a concern. If you’ve tried the 3Pro, I would love to hear your thoughts, so please feel free to use the comments section below! Furthermore, if you have any remaining questions, please don’t hesitate to as,k and I will do my best to reply. Thank you for reading.

Pros: High CADR (413 cfm) for effective air purification Affordable compared to similar high-performance devices Pre-assembled CR box design simplifies setup Portable and compact for travel use Certified for safety (UL507, CE-EMC, FCC, CARB) Cons: Loud at higher speeds Design may not appeal to all users (industrial look) Limited to proprietary filters, increasing costs No activated carbon filters included in basic kit