#and little to no substantial distraction events in between

[cozymochi]

never wrong 💃

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

Half-Life | Chapter Three

There was something to be said about loneliness, though: at least it was predictable.

Pairing: Plaga!Leon S. Kennedy/F!Chubby!Paranormal Investigator!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Mutual Pining, Angst, Sexual Tension, Blood, Body Horror

Notes: It's been a minute since I last posted, but this chapter was a doozy to write! Second longest chapter I've ever churned out, which is insane to me lol. Anyway, I hope you guys like this installment! I was blushing and squealing and kicking my feet while writing it lmao. Leon makes me so sad, but these interactions between him and Bunny (the reader) are SO CUTE. I'd love it if you guys told me your favorite lines or parts in general in the comments! Feedback is what helps keep me motivated!

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It had been a full day since you left, and Leon loathed to admit just how miserable he felt.

He had spent the rest of the prior afternoon with Wolfie hunting for small game, the crow barely able to satiate his hunger.

He always liked the hunt, as he allowed himself to be in the moment, focused solely on his senses and cutting off the tide of emotions that threatened to pull him under.

The distraction didn’t last long, however.

He had killed a couple squirrels and another crow, hoping for something a little more substantial, when he came across a rabbit—a plump one with brown fur—and the reminder of you and the note you left stopped him mid-strike, the animal easily able to escape his normally deadly grasp.

He cut his losses after that, deciding he didn’t want to hunt anymore. He split his meager spoils with Wolfie as he always did, and paced his house until nightfall, his thoughts rampant and his mood sour. 

He tried to sleep it off but tossed and turned instead (though that wasn’t exactly an irregular occurrence for him). 

And now here he was, sitting in his boat in the middle of the lake and spearing any fish that dared to skim the surface of the water, using his tail and those four spidery appendages he had re-released from their place on his spine specifically for the task.

He didn’t like to keep them out for the sake of his own humanity, but the skin of his back rippled and ached when they were confined for too long.

Ten years and he was still uncomfortable in his own body.

He hated it.

He had a growing pile of fish sitting in a bucket before him, reveling in the fact that at least he’d be eating well for the day, briefly pausing his surveillance of the water to snack on one of the scaly creatures.

He wondered what you must be up to right now. Probably already halfway across the globe, bound for home. He wanted to ask you how you’d go about keeping the public from bothering him, but he had been so preoccupied with getting to know you, he had forgotten.

He questioned idly whether or not you would keep to your word, but he supposed it was out of his hands now.

And, for some reason, he trusted you.

It was laughable, almost, how quickly he gave in the moment you didn’t budge from his scare tactics. He had become so inherently suspicious since the events that transpired in Raccoon City, as well as what occurred right here in this village a decade prior, so it shocked him how easily you blew right through his mental defenses.

To be fair to himself—which he often wasn’t—you had caught him so utterly off guard, he had no precedence to follow. No one else had gone that completely against common sense when faced with his monstrous form, and he simply couldn’t wrap his head around it. Besides, he was so starved for social interaction, he couldn’t stop himself from leaping at the opportunity to relish it.

He wanted the whole ordeal to be enough to pull him through to his plotted end, but he thought it was deeply unfair that he only craved more. More conversation. More attention. More affection.

It would have been easier if you had just run.

There was something to be said about loneliness, though: at least it was predictable. At least it was safe.

His inner ramblings were suddenly cut short when he heard a strange sound from the distance. There were footsteps again, but something else he couldn’t quite place—something that rumbled.

His first thought was a vehicle and panic immediately set in, causing him to paddle back to land as quickly as possible.

He wondered if you had broken your part of the deal and alerted others to his presence. Maybe he had been wrong to trust you, after all.

He cursed himself under his breath.

He made it back to shore, the footsteps and that strange sound coming to a halt somewhere too close for comfort. It was in the direction of his house, where he had left Wolfie to dutifully await his return.

If anything happened to his dog, he wasn’t sure what he’d do, praying to a god he no longer believed in that whoever trespassed wasn’t here to cause harm.

He bolted through the woods, dodging between the trees with practiced ease until he was skidding to a halt in the brush beside his home.

The sight that greeted him baffled him to his core.

There, just at his front door, was Wolfie, tail wagging happily as he sat on his haunches. But what really caught his eye was a figure standing above the dog, reaching out to feed him what looked like a treat from their hand.

And, when they turned to face Leon’s direction, the sound of him bounding through the forest catching their attention, he realized the person on his doorstep…

Was you.

“Leon!” you called jovially as he revealed himself from the tree line. “I was wondering where you were!” 

“What the hell are you doing here?” he questioned, his tone harsher than he meant it.

You didn’t seem phased, however, as you replied, “I figured I was due for a vacation. Decided to stay in the country for another week.”

“Doesn’t exactly explain why you came back here, though.”

“Well, I told you I wanted to explore the area more, didn’t I? But don’t worry, I didn’t come empty-handed.” You stepped aside and swept your arm behind you, revealing a large metal wagon stacked with all sorts of items. 

So that was the strange noise he heard.

“This wasn’t in our agreement,” he stated, sounding more annoyed than he actually felt. If anything, he was glad you came back. But he worried about what exactly it would entail if you did stay with him. He then added, conjuring up as much disdain as possible to make a point, “You should leave me alone.”

You raised a brow at him, skeptical. “I don’t think you mean that, Leon.”

“Oh, yeah? Why wouldn’t I?” He stood to his full height like he had the moment you first met, narrowing his bloodred eyes while he tilted slightly forward, as if setting up to lunge.

You seemed fed up with his clearly empty threats as you stepped up to him, hands placed on your supple hips in defiance. “Because you’re lonely and I’m the only person you’ve met in the past decade that didn’t run away screaming at the sight of you.”

He scoffed. “Oh, so you’re bothering me again out of the goodness of your own heart, then?”

“Maybe…” You glanced at your feet for a moment as you found the words to say, “And it’s also possible I came back because I find you interesting. This could be mutually beneficial, you know.”

“Interesting?” he repeated dubiously. He felt a pang of disappointment as he looked down at you. “Am I really just some specimen for you to study? Is that what this is to you?”

Your eyes widened at his accusation, throwing your hands up in the air. “Oh my god, of course not! Sure, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t fascinated by your… quirks… but that’s not the only reason I came back.”

“You mean to use me as a field guide for your little hiking trip?” 

“Well, that too. But still not it.”

“Then why?” 

You seemed almost embarrassed as you looked away from him, finally admitting, “I like you as a person, Leon. I enjoyed spending time with you and thought you might have felt the same. I… I’m sorry if I overstepped. I can leave if that's what you want.”

Leon was stunned by your words, unable to do more than gawk at you as you awaited his response. 

Realizing you might not get one, you nodded, crestfallen. “Right, yeah. This was a bad idea. I’ll just—I’ll just get out of your hair, then.”

You turned to grab the wagon and make your exit when Leon wrapped his claws gingerly around your arm, stopping you in your tracks. You gazed back at him, searching his face for an answer.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t know what to say,” he told you honestly. Leon almost always had a cheesy one-liner or a snarky quip at the ready, but not for the first time since meeting you, he was speechless.

What could he even tell you, though? That he was thinking about you since you left? That he found himself missing you after only knowing you a day? You must already find him pathetic as is. He didn’t want to exacerbate it.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you responded, a sad smile alighting your pretty face. The thought that he caused it made his stomach twist in a knot. “I was being presumptuous. I shouldn’t have bothered you again.”

You tried to pull away once more but he wouldn’t release his hold, feeling incredibly stupid with how badly he was handling this. “No, it’s fine. I want…” He swallowed, then, unable to meet your eye as he adjusted what was about to leave his mouth, “I don’t mind if you stay a little while longer.”

Your gaze softened as you looked at him, gripping his wrist and squeezing it affectionately. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Yes.” He stared down at your small hand wrapped around him, the warmth emanating from it distracting in a way he found both disarming and comforting. His eyes trailed up your arm to your face, glad to find the once dejected expression had been replaced with a gentle sort of contentment.

You were anything but predictable, and this situation was far from safe, but Leon had to admit… meeting you was the best thing that had happened to him in a long, long time.

Wolfie brushed up against your leg, probably looking for another treat, and the spell was broken. The two of you quickly pulled apart, chuckling awkwardly.

Leon forced himself to look away from you again—not wanting to linger for too long—when his gaze fell upon the wagon once more, curiosity piqued. “So, what exactly’s in there?” 

“Oh, right!” you exclaimed, a grin on your face as you began pulling things out of the small vehicle. “I come bearing gifts!”

With gusto, you listed off the items as you grabbed them, “Brought groceries for me, though I wouldn’t mind sharing, of course! And some water, too, cos I don’t exactly trust drinking from the area. Not too keen on getting a parasite.” You paused after that, eyes wide in realization. “No offense!”

He laughed loudly, shaking his head. “None taken, I promise.”

“Right, moving on,” you continued, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. “I also got myself an air mattress so you can keep your bed and I don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

“Not exactly sure how any of those things are gifts if they’re for you.”

“Hold on, Leon, I’m getting there,” you admonished light-heartedly. “The gifts are next.” 

You then pulled out a dog bed with an array of chew toys and bags of treats set inside, as well as a box of various books. “Some things for Wolfie, as every good boy deserves, and since you told me you don’t have anything to read, I grabbed a bunch of random stuff from the local bookstore. Don’t be too harsh on what I picked, though, cos I had no idea what you’d be interested in.”

Leon wondered if he would ever get used to your kindness toward him. To not only provide nice things for his aging pet but to bring him something to read after off-handedly mentioning he was short on entertainment.

A memory tugged at the edges of his mind, one he thought he buried a long time ago.

It was in the days following his parents’ deaths, forced out of his home and prepped to be sent into foster care. He had been taken to the police station so he would no longer be faced with the carnage in the house he grew up in, no one willing to bring him back before the bodies and subsequent viscera they left behind were cleaned up.

Finally, the social worker assigned to his case took him to the house to retrieve his belongings. It was painful—even to his young mind—to see his home spotless like nothing happened there. But the images of blood spattering the floors and walls were imprinted in his brain.

Eventually, he’d learn to repress them.

The social worker helped him as he collected his things, throwing them haphazardly into suitcases and bags found around the house before lugging them into the trunk of her car. He had thought he gathered everything, about to climb into the backseat, when he remembered his favorite storybook—the one his mother would read to him every night before bed. The one she read to him before she was taken from him.

He ran back into the house as fast as his little legs could carry him, tearing apart everything in his path to find the one thing he had that still connected him to the family he lost. 

“It was here! I swear it was here!” he cried as the woman shuffled after him, her eyes sad as she watched him collapse on the living room floor.

“Do you know where you last saw it, Leon?” she asked gently, kneeling beside him.

He pointed with a shaking finger to the dining table nearby, his parents having been slain in that very room.

“Oh, sweetheart…” she whispered, realizing that it was likely ruined by the blood that had drenched it only a few nights prior. “I think they had to… throw it away.”

Leon broke down at that, curling in on himself and sobbing so hard he thought he might throw up his guts right there on the hardwood floor. The woman did the only thing she could think of and carefully tugged him into her arms.

“I’m so sorry,” was all she offered, knowing there was nothing she could say that would help or change the way this child’s life would be eternally fractured. “I’m so sorry.” 

Eventually, he cried all the tears he had left, and the woman led him to the car once more. He watched through the window with dull eyes as the neighborhood faded into the distance.

That was the last time he ever stepped foot inside his childhood home. 

Then, after his parents' funeral, he was about to be taken to his new foster family, frightened and unable to find the silver lining in any of it. The social worker, though, did the kindest thing anyone had done for him in that dark time. 

Just as he was about to get out of her car and trudge up to the unfamiliar house he’d be residing in—not knowing how long he would even be staying there until he’d likely be shipped off to another family—she handed him a gift, telling him to open it when he got inside and settled down.

He did just that, having to take a while to sit in his new bedroom and stare at the four walls, trying to adjust to his surroundings and be brave like his parents would have wanted. 

He finally picked up the gift, tearing the wrapping paper off with tiny, careful hands and opening the box revealed beneath.

What was inside brought tears to his eyes, and he pulled the item to his chest so hard, the edges dug into the skin there, even through his shirt.

It was his favorite book.

Sure, it wasn’t the same one, its predecessor stained by sticky fingers and the pages ripped and crinkled from years of use, but it was still his. 

The police officer that saved his life the night his parents were killed might have led him to join the force when he grew up, but that simple kindness of gifting him a cherished item he thought he lost forever was what pulled him through in those early days of grief and uncertainty of the future.

He couldn’t believe he had even forgotten, his heart clenching as he realized that book, which sat on his shelf in his apartment back in the States, was probably long gone now that everyone thought he was dead.

Once upon a time, he had hoped he could pass on that little book to his own child when he finally managed to settle down.

What a pipe dream that was. 

Well, maybe it could bring another kid joy if it wasn’t just thrown out altogether by his landlord. It wasn’t like he had anyone to give his things to, after all.

Perhaps Claire had the chance to go through them and send everything to a shelter. He could wish. 

He supposed there was no use thinking about it now, though.

It was ten years too late.

“Leon?” you asked him, pulling him from his thoughts with your soft voice. “Did you hear me?”

He exhaled, sporting a sheepish expression. “Sorry, I was just thinking. Say it again?”

“I was telling you about the fuel I brought.”

“Fuel?”

“For the generator! I figured we could get it up and running. That is, if you’re okay with it. I even got extra lightbulbs in case some of them don’t work.”

Leon shook his head and chuckled, taken aback by how much thought you put into your return. “What did your ride have to say about all of this?”

“Nothing, cos I rented a car for the week. Wanted to make sure I had a way to get back into town whenever I needed. You know, in case I missed anything.”

“Missed anything?” he asked, incredulous. “By the looks of it, you brought everything but the kitchen sink.”

“One can never be too prepared!” you defended earnestly.

He fought a wide grin but ultimately lost to his amusement. “I guess that’s true.”

After you finished showing him everything you brought, the two of you got down to business. You managed to get the old generator up and working, replacing a few of the lightbulbs that had gone out. After that, Leon went back to the edge of the lake to retrieve his bounty of fish while you remained behind to put things away.

When he returned, he found you finishing your task by placing the books you bought onto the shelf next to the dining table, slotting the last one into position as he approached. The two of you stood there, eyes roaming over the different titles nearly in unison.

It was a random array of classics, modern fiction of different genres, and nonfiction that consisted of how-to guides, memoirs, historical biographies, and science books. You really seemed to choose a little of everything, and he appreciated it.  

He caught you smiling in his peripherals, turning to face you as you pulled out a novel with a black, shiny cover. You looked up at him with a teasing glint in your irises before saying, “Ever read this classic? I picked it out just for you.”

He grabbed the book from your hands and stared at the title. “Twilight? Can’t say I’ve heard of it.”

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head as you pulled the book back from his grasp, looking at the inside of the cover. “That’s right, you’ve been here since before this was even published.”

“That mean I was missing out?” he questioned jokingly.

You had a wicked expression on your face as you replied, “Oh, you were. It’s practically a modern Jane Austen if you can believe it. A love story of epic proportions.” You squinted at him for a second before biting your lip and adding, “You might even relate a bit to the love interest.”

“What, is he a monster, too?” 

“Vampire, so close enough.”

“What kind of vampire are we talking about here? Nosferatu? Dracula? How human does this guy look?” 

“Pretty human, I’m afraid. But he sparkles in the sun, so that’s kind of inconvenient.”

Leon scoffed. “Poor him.”

You laughed and he basked in the sound of it. “Poor him, indeed. Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll read some of it to you before bed.”

He raised a brow at that, ignoring how that made his stomach flip at the thought. “You gonna tuck me in while you’re at it? Get me a warm glass of milk?” 

You rolled your eyes as you slid the book back into its place on the shelf. “Only if you’re a good boy.”

His mouth went dry at your words, unexpectedly affected by them and unable to reply.

Seeing how he froze, you cleared your throat and rushed to change the subject, “Anyway, I wanted to ask you how bathing works here. I didn’t see a tub in the house anywhere.”

Leon shook his head to clear his thoughts before responding, “Yeah, I’ve been doing that in the lake, actually.”

“Hm, it’s a little too cold for me to do that. I guess I can live off of rag baths or something.”

“There are some in the area, like big wash basins. I can bring one in here for you, put it in the side room there. We can just dump the water out the window or something when you’re done. Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold or feel gross while you’re here.”

“That would be amazing,” you said, leaning over and running your hand down his bicep. He was forced to suppress the shiver the action caused as you continued, “Thank you for being willing to go through the trouble.” 

Against his better judgment, he gripped your shoulder lightly. “It’s the least I could do after all this.” To make his point, he gestured around the house with his free hand, referring to the electric light filling the room, the stocked fridge and pantries, and the books that now lined the once-empty shelves. 

“You deserve it, Leon. I wish I could do more for you if I’m honest.” A faint pink tinged your cheeks as you looked away from him. 

He felt his heart stutter in his chest at that, wishing he could pull you into his arms but knowing that was far too forward. 

“Anyway, I’ll start making dinner if you want a taste. I know you got your fish to eat, but you might like a homemade meal after so long without one.” 

“Yeah, that sounds… nice. I’ll go get a tub for you, I guess.”

You smiled at him brightly and he begrudgingly let you go to do as he said he would, thinking about you the whole time he was out.

After about half an hour, he returned, having found and scrubbed clean a dirty metal bathtub he found in one of the village houses, along with an old rug. While you set the table, he placed the piece of fabric on the ground beside the far window in the side room and then put the tub on top of it, hoping it would serve you well.

The two of you ate dinner, and although he found it delicious, he couldn’t help but prefer his fresh meat to the meal you had cooked. 

You had noticed his avoidance of the vegetables on his plate and laughed about it, asking him if he was really that picky. He was quick to inform you that he could eat plants, but he didn’t like them or need them to live.

“Ah, a true carnivore,” you had said, nodding as if you understood. As if that were normal. 

He would probably never get you. But he wanted to, for whatever reason. 

After dinner was finished, you cleaned the dishes and pulled out that book you had mentioned earlier, looking positively maniacal as you plopped onto the loveseat by the fireplace. Leon sat on his stool, leaning back against the dining table as he awaited your performance.

He realized very quickly why you were so giddy to read it to him.

It was awful, and you seemed to find subjecting him to it hilarious.

He told you as much after you finished the first chapter and you giggled. “I’m sorry, but this book came out when I was a teenager and it had me in a chokehold at the time. It’s funny now, but you can somewhat blame this series for pushing along my obsession with the occult.”

He hadn’t given much thought to the age gap between you, but he realized suddenly that it was at least a decade. You were a grown woman and he wasn’t aging, but that didn’t stop him from questioning it a little. Just another reason he shouldn’t entertain this pull to you he seemed to have. 

However, that couldn’t stop the next few words from coming out of his mouth, the casual flirtation as natural as breathing, “So you’ve always had a thing for monsters, then? Here I thought I was special.”

“You are special,” you assured him, making heat rise to his face. “Insomuch that you’re the first and only monster I’ve come across. Besides, I don’t think Mothman would be so quick to invite me over for dinner.”

“He’s missing out, then,” Leon mused, forcing himself to calm down and not read into what you were saying. “You’re an entertaining guest.”

The two of you chatted and joked all evening, much like the last time you had visited, before you decided it was time for bed. You took turns brushing your teeth in the kitchen sink—Leon grateful that you brought him a new toothbrush and paste to use—and then you carried your duffle bag to the adjoining room to change into your pajamas. 

He grabbed some of your things to go upstairs with him, switching to sleepwear himself before unfolding your air mattress on the floor by the window.

The glass was still broken from when Ada had shot through it a decade ago, and although Leon had cleaned the shards off the ground so that he wouldn’t get them stuck in his feet, he never bothered to patch the hole. Watching you enter the room and shiver as the breeze blew in, he decided tomorrow he would cover it, just to keep you comfortable. 

You laughed when Wolfie barked at the small mechanical air pump loudly whirring as it began to fill the bed, and Leon smiled as you kneeled next to the canine and petted him to alleviate his distress. You patted the dog bed you placed beside Leon’s footboard, cooing as he curled up on it immediately.

Leon could get used to this, you being here. And that was a dangerous thought. You were only back a day—only planned to stay a week—and already he was settling into whatever new normal came with being around you.

He needed to put some distance between you expeditiously if he wanted to keep what was left of his sanity.

As you finished inflating the mattress and placing the bedding you brought for it, you turned to face him and saw the frown and furrowed brows that marred his features.

“Leon, you okay over there?” 

He shifted his gaze to you again, schooling his expression and inwardly admonishing himself for not controlling it in the first place. He supposed he was out of practice, though he was never really good at hiding his emotions, anyway.

“M’fine. Just… tired.” It was close enough to the truth. He had barely slept the night before and he knew there were bags under his eyes as you took in his face thoughtfully.

“Hope I didn’t keep you up too late,” you apologized, biting your lip and looking almost timid.

Fuck, you were cute.

Unfair.

“Course not. Even if you did, I think it was worth it,” he assuaged, running his clawed hand through his hair. “Not like I have a job to do or anything. Plus side to being a cryptid is that you don’t exactly have to follow a schedule.” 

You giggled, visibly relaxing, and shuffled under the covers of your bed. “Well, thank you for letting me stay again. I’m having a good time and I hope you are, too.”

“No problem,” he replied, thinking that perhaps he should be thanking you for the company you were providing him. He refrained. “And I am. It’s been… nice.” That was the understatement of the century, he knew, but it was all he was willing to express.

“Good,” you said before you rubbed your face into your pillow, a loud yawn echoing in the room. “Night, Leon.”

“Night.”

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed awake after that, listening to you snoring softly across the room in a way he found almost endearing, his head foggy with exhaustion and the sheer disbelief that you were here at all.

The things you did to him, you’d never know.

Then finally, he closed his eyes.

+++

You awoke slowly to the sound of someone calling your name, rubbing your eyes and sitting up on your inflatable bed.

You yawned as you peered over, Leon crouched on the floor by his footboard, running his fingers through Wolfie’s fur.

“I see you learned your lesson about how to wake me up,” you teased, voice slightly hoarse from sleep.

He shook his head, smiling. “What can I say? I’ve always been a quick study.”

You offered an upward tug of your lips before you lifted your arms above your head, stretching out until a soft squeak left your mouth against your will. 

You heard Leon chuckle beside you and you gave him a faux glare as you ripped the blankets off your legs. “What’s so funny, Mr. Kennedy?”

He stood up and only needed to take one long step to be next to your bed, towering over you, before he bent down and offered his hand. “Nothing at all, little rabbit.”

You scoffed but allowed him to easily pull you to your feet. “Is that my official nickname now?”

“‘Fraid so. It suits you a little too well.” His eyes were on you for a moment before they drifted to your still-joined hands. He ran his finger over the ring you were wearing; the one he had given you. “I thought you were joking when you said I was proposing to you,” he mused.

“I was,” you huffed indignantly. “When I pawned off the other stuff you gave me, I decided I wanted to keep this one because it looked cool. And… it reminded me of my time here.”

“And you just so happened to put it on your ring finger?”

“Don’t you get any ideas. It just fits that one best.”

He grinned down at you mischievously before releasing your hand from his grip. “If you say so.” 

“Anyway, now that we’re up…” You sidestepped him to open the bedroom door, trying not to let him see the way his teasing got you all flustered. “I’d like you to take me on a tour today. After breakfast, of course.”

He sighed with exaggerated annoyance. “If I have to.”

You nodded before bounding out of the room and down the stairs, calling back, “You do!”

You were quick to enter the side room, peeling off your pajamas and pulling out your clothes for the day. You eyed the top you had bought the morning before on a whim, considering how it flattered your form and showed a decent amount of your cleavage, but thought better of it. These little flirtations you shared with Leon likely didn’t mean anything, and you loathed to appear desperate. You’d save it for another day, you decided.

You finished changing, then dealt with your unruly hair before brushing your teeth and washing your face. 

Leon joined you shortly after in the kitchen, also donning a new outfit, though the worn fabric and the awkward way it hung off of him made you want to get his measurements just so you could spoil him with a new wardrobe. You worried about going through with it, though, afraid it would come across as rude or even creepy to ask. 

Like the top you deliberated wearing, you decided to save that conversation for another day. You had a week, after all. 

“You making anything for breakfast?” he questioned, leaning casually in the archway, his long arms crossed in front of his chest. You found it both funny how human it was and… strangely attractive.

You averted your gaze. “Just gonna eat cereal. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t expect you to be my personal chef, you know.” He pulled one of the fish he caught the day prior from where you had stacked them in the bottom of the fridge. “Plenty happy with what I got.” 

You scrunched your nose at the smell of the scaly creature as he released it from its ziplock bag. “Eat whatever you want, Leon, but you better scrub your mouth after that. Can’t have you reeking of fish while we’re out all day.”

He offered a lazy salute before taking a large bite. “Yes, ma’am.”

You grinned and prepared your own breakfast, your stomach already growling.  

After eating, and after Leon dutifully brushed his teeth and tongue with added vigor at your behest, he pulled out an old map to aid in your little adventure. You noted the handwritten scrawls across the page, naming each location in the area. You weren’t sure what building you were in, so you trailed your finger from the hunter’s lodge to where you assumed Leon’s house sat.

“We’re here, I’m guessing?” you asked him, pointing at what was titled “the chief’s manor” on the old, yellowed paper.

He nodded, seeming impressed. “Didn’t expect you to figure it out so quick.”

“Well, I use maps on my investigations, you know. A lot of places with cryptid sightings have shit service, so I can’t rely on my GPS. You eventually figure things out after getting lost in the woods a couple times.”

He chuckled at that. “So, where do you want to go?” 

You stared thoughtfully at the map for a few moments, thinking about where you’d like to start. “How about we explore the right side of the area first since we’re already here? Then we could do the left side tomorrow.”

“You’re the boss,” Leon said, shrugging.

“Damn right,” you replied with a smile.

You then got to work filling your backpack with water bottles and a sandwich for later. You even added a baggie full of lunch meat for Leon.

Once out of the door, the two of you (and Wolfie, of course) began your little journey. There was a cool breeze that swept across the path ahead, but the sun was high and warmed your skin. You even pulled out your ballcap and placed it on Leon’s head to keep the light out of his sensitive eyes, which he rolled at your demand, but didn’t protest. 

You traveled down to the abandoned factory and what the map called “the valley”. The factory didn’t hold much of your interest after a quick sweep, but the valley was like a playground to you, the area just a bunch of wooden platforms and bridges set into the surrounding cliffs with a couple of small, empty buildings.

Leon didn’t have much to say about any of it, grumbling about how the area was one he usually avoided, but you caught him smiling softly at your excitement. You were glad for it because you knew most people found your unbridled joy more annoying than endearing.

After that, you circled back, passing Leon’s house and heading to the village in order to reach the church.

As you were perusing the gravestones in the front, enamored by just how old some of them were, you spoke to Leon about something that had been on your mind, “So, the day we met, you told me that I reminded you of someone. Can I ask who?”

He let out a puff of laughter at your nosiness. “Her name's Claire. We survived Raccoon City together.”

“She become an agent, like you? Or was she the person you were protecting when you were forced to join?”

“Neither. She took off pretty much as soon as she could to find her brother. The person I was protecting was this girl named Sherry. She had antibodies against one of the viruses in the city, and they were threatening to experiment on her if I didn’t do their bidding,” he explained, his expression hardening at the memory.

“Jesus,” you muttered. “Your friend ever find her brother?”

“Yeah, at least that side of things worked out.” 

“So… what happened after? Y’know, before you came to the village,” you questioned.

“I’m not sure what you mean. I worked as an agent for six years. Then this. Not much else to say about it.”

You bit your lip, deliberating how to go about asking him what you wanted to know, deciding to be straightforward instead of coy. You had never been good at subtlety, anyway. “I meant you and Claire. Were you guys a thing?” 

“Ah.” He chuckled lightly. “No, we weren’t. She’s great, don’t get me wrong, but we were just friends. Kept in touch until, well… you know.”

“Right.” You found yourself to be strangely relieved that there was nothing between them, but you admonished yourself for even caring. You were only here for a week, after all. No use getting attached, especially after only a couple of days.

He was thoughtful for a moment before he added, “I wonder about them all the time. How they’re doing. A lot can happen in ten years.”

“I don’t know about your friends, but I can at least update you on Ashley, if you’d like?” you offered. 

“Is she okay?” he questioned, going stiff. He seemed to always expect the worst and that broke your heart a little.

“Yes, she’s perfectly fine,” you assured him, glad to see him visibly relax at your words. “In fact, she’s more than fine.”

He tilted his head, “That so?”

“She’s a member of Congress now. Kind of following in her dad’s footsteps, I guess. She’s pretty popular among the younger crowd, always fighting for the underdog. They started calling her a saint after she founded an organization to help people who’ve gone through kidnapping, hostage situations, and things like that. A real inspiration.” 

Leon smiled wistfully. “I’m happy to hear that. I always knew she had it in her, to be her own hero.”

“You know, she’s made several public statements about what happened here. Obviously, there were parts heavily doctored, but still.” You paused a moment, playing with the hem of your shirt. “She talked a lot about you, too. How you saved her. Like you were a modern-day Hercules or something.”

He scoffed, seeming almost diffident. “I was just doing my job. And she saved both herself and me plenty of times. She should give herself more credit.”

“So humble,” you teased, snaking your arm through his, having to strain your neck just to look up at him. “You really are a catch.”   

He rolled his eyes and pulled away from you, “And you think you’re funny.”

“I am funny,” you corrected with a grin, trying not to feel hurt by the way he distanced himself.

He shook his head. “Well, c’mon then, miss comedian. Let’s get a move on.”

The two of you continued your expedition, walking into the nearby church. You raved over the large building and its architecture, awed by the massive stained glass window that painted you, Leon, and Wolfie in a kaleidoscope of light.

Even in this form, you couldn’t deny that Leon looked pretty washed in the rainbow hues. You raked your eyes over him before meeting his gaze and you froze, worried you had been caught ogling him. He turned his head quickly, though, and seemed almost embarrassed. As if he were the one that was caught. 

You realized that he had been staring at you, too, butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the thought.   

You moved on to the quarry, finding a massive skeleton that made your jaw drop to the ground. Leon explained that it was called El Gigante, a troll-like monster that he had slain himself. He laughed as he patted Wolfie’s head, adding that the dog had aided in the fight, not to give himself too much credit. 

After getting your fill of the fascinating creature, you eventually pushed forward, reaching the edge of the lake and deciding to sit on the dock together to eat your lunch. You pried your shoes off, dipping your sweaty feet into the water, cringing at how cold it felt against your skin. 

You chatted idly as you ate, Leon feeding pieces of the deli meat you brought to Wolfie as he devoured his own. You smiled at the sight before gazing back out at the lapping waves, the rhythmic sounds of them hitting the dock almost mesmerizing.

“You should take me on the lake at some point,” you mused, pulling your legs up so that your feet could dry out.

“Sure, that can be arranged. It’s nice out on the water. Peaceful.” He pulled your ball cap further over his forehead. “I like to go fishing a lot these days, just so I can sit out there and shut everything out.”

“I’m not one for fishing,” you admitted, knocking your shoulder gently into his. “But the rest sounds great.”

“It’s a date, then.” You both froze at his phrasing and he was quick to amend, “That was a joke.”

You were disappointed to hear him take it back but smiled up at him regardless. “Joke or not, that sounds good to me.” 

You lazed about for a while after that in silence before you pulled your socks and shoes back on, mentioning the fish farm to Leon. He told you about how it was infested with algae and vipers and smelled terrible. You made a face, not exactly keen on wading through stinky snake water, opting to call it a day and head back for his house.

You had just reached the wooded path heading for Leon’s abode when both he and Wolfie stopped dead in their tracks. Not noticing their halted movement, you took a step forward and Leon threw his arm in front of you, barring you from walking any further.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned in a hushed tone, seeing Leon’s severe expression and Wolfie’s raised hackles. 

“Bear,” was all he offered.

You were about to say something when a loud rustle was heard from the tree line just ahead of you. You swallowed as a giant bear sauntered onto the path, uncomfortably close to where you stood.

Looking at the massive creature, it was suddenly apparent what Leon meant when he said you’d been lucky up to this point, never facing a predator beyond a fox or large bird in your investigations. You didn’t realize just how big they were in person. 

Instead of moseying on like you had hoped, it began to walk toward your group. Panic set in when Wolfie growled and snapped his jaw, the bear seeming to take offense, huffing irritably and edging even closer.

“Down, boy,” Leon commanded the dog, who immediately backed away. Leon stepped in front of you slowly, whispering, “Don’t move.”

You nodded at him and he gave one in return before facing the dangerous animal again. He stood to his full height and splayed out his appendages, hoping they would deter it from further approaching. But the damn thing didn’t back off, letting out a roar and lifting itself up on its hind legs, somehow even taller than Leon.

You had heard male brown bears could grow up to eight feet in height and weigh half a ton, though you had never thought about what that meant in real life. It was terrifying. 

Suddenly, you felt something touch your waist. You let out a small gasp as you looked down, finding that Leon’s tail was coiling around you. It tightened and yanked you towards him, and you tried to avoid the sharp barbed end of it as it slid across your middle.  

His tail was forgotten, though, when Leon raised his claws, bared his fangs, and growled. The sound was deep and loud and so inhuman it sent a bolt of fear through your whole body. A fear that even the gargantuan bear before you, ready to maul you to death, didn’t elicit.

The noise had apparently even rattled the predator itself, which took a few steps back and dropped forward onto its front legs once more. Leon growled again, this one quieter and more guttural, but no less frightening.

The bear just huffed before trotting off into the forest.

Leon exhaled in relief, relaxing his position. “We’re good to go if we hurry,” he said without looking at you. 

“Um, Leon? Can’t exactly hurry when I’m trapped like this.”

He turned his head sharply, his red eyes widening when he noticed his tail had completely encircled your torso, squeezing you tightly as the tip flicked precariously close to your face.

“Fuck,” he said, slowly and carefully unfurling the appendage from your body. “I’m so sorry. I—I didn’t even realize I did that. Are you okay? I didn’t catch you with the barb, did I?” 

You let out a breath as soon as you were free. “I’m fine, it didn’t get me.” 

“Good, cos there’s venom in it. Depending on where it stings you and how deep, it might paralyze you for a while.” 

You stared up at him with a horrified expression. “Seriously? How long is ‘a while’?”

“I normally use it when I’m hunting bigger prey, like deer, so I don’t exactly sit around and wait for it to wear off before going for the kill. But I have used it on predators in self-defense, and they were up and at ‘em in about an hour.”

“Have you ever stung yourself by accident?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t work on me. Immune to it, I guess. Still hurt like a bitch, though.”

You eyed his tail warily. “And you really didn’t know you grabbed me with it?”

“I didn’t,” he said, sighing glumly. “Guess it was just… instinctual.”

“Well… thank you. For protecting me, I mean.” You couldn’t deny that the whole ordeal scared you, but you were still grateful. And Leon was still Leon, as far as you could glean.

“Of course, it’s my—” he cut himself off and let out a soft chuckle. “I almost said ‘it’s my job’. Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“I suppose if I’ve roped you into showing me around the place, it kind of is your job,” you joked.

He smiled and you finally relaxed, the warmth of it—even despite his sharp teeth—was enough to make you feel safe again.

He cleared his throat awkwardly before looking at the tree line where the bear had disappeared, his tone serious as he said, “We should really head home in case he comes back.”

“Right, of course,” you replied, reaching out to hold onto his arm once more. You were pleased when he allowed it, guiding you to the safety of his house, Wolfie happily trailing behind.

You might have been frightened, but you couldn’t deny the exhilaration that coursed through your veins.

You wondered what the rest of the week would have in store.

+++

Leon awoke much the same way as he had the day before: to the sound of your deep breaths and even heartbeats caressing his ears from across the room.

He didn’t stir, only stared up at the ceiling of his canopy bed, thinking about yesterday’s events. 

It started out as a good day, which he realized he came to expect in your company, but he knew something shifted after the bear incident. 

You spoke to him as if nothing changed, but the way you looked at him—or more accurately, the way you refused to look at him—was distinctly off. He figured you were just rattled by the whole thing, but he had shown you a side to him he hoped he would never have to. The part that was truly monstrous.

And the way he had wrapped his tail around you? How it seemed to move of its own accord? The cursed thing often flicked about without him directly using it, but he believed he generally had full control of the appendage. Apparently not.

That realization alone was enough to concern him, but the fact it involved you mortified him beyond belief. He was shocked you didn’t decide to pack up and leave the moment the two of you returned to the house.

Instead, you made dinner like the night before, and while you cooked, Leon had duct-taped an old towel over the hole in the upstairs window to have something to do and to give you space. 

You had then called him down for the meal, Leon choosing to eat all of what you cooked despite his preference for fresh meat and little else, in part hoping it would come across as some sort of olive branch. You seemed surprised by it but didn’t make a comment like you might normally.

He also caught you staring at his tail, and he had his guesses of what you might be thinking.

He assured you what happened earlier wouldn’t happen again, and you told him it was no big deal and that you weren’t worried. He didn’t believe you, though he had no choice but to let it go and pretend the fact he scared you didn’t make his stomach twist in knots. 

After clearing the table, you mentioned wanting to take a bath, and Leon was quick to start the process of boiling the water for you, telling you to relax and read a book. As a compromise, you began reading aloud more of that ridiculous vampire romance novel you bought for him as a joke. Although the story wasn’t exactly his cup of tea, he was happy to hear your little performance just for him, entertained by the voices you gave each of the characters.

You had just ended a chapter—number four or five, he couldn’t recall—when he finished filling the tub with hot water. You obviously had to wait a few minutes for it to cool down enough to get into, but once you were ready, you ducked into the side room.

Leon, still wanting to talk to you and not knowing what else to do, sat against the wall on the opposite side, Wolfie curling up in his lap as you chatted back and forth. 

He could hear the quiet splashing as you moved and cleaned yourself out of his sight, and started to imagine what you looked like under your clothes. How your soaked hair dripped water onto your shoulders and ran in rivulets down your body; how your wet skin would feel under his hands.

He physically recoiled from his wandering thoughts, smacking the back of his head against the wall and letting out a hiss of pain.

“You okay over there?” you questioned, voice light and teasing, though still concerned for his well-being. 

God, you were too good for him. 

“M’fine,” he grumbled in reply, dropping his face into his hands, urging himself to get a grip.

Eventually, you emerged from the room in your pajamas, wringing your hair out with a towel. As you strolled past him to brush your teeth in the kitchen, he was struck by the aroma of the soap you used.

Lavender and vanilla.

The smell was enough to make his mouth water, trailing after you as if possessed. He loomed over you, wanting nothing more than to bury his face into the crook of your neck and inhale.

You turned to face him quizically after rinsing your mouth, and he took a sharp breath to pull himself out of whatever trance he was in, removing himself from your personal space.

What the hell was wrong with him? 

In all the years it took to get used to what he became, he had never been compelled by anything except hunger. He hated that fact, and it troubled him, but whatever this was? It felt far more dangerous.

At least the hunger was predictable.

The two of you had gone to bed without further incident, but he had tossed and turned for hours after, unable to banish the thoughts of you swirling in his head, especially with your sleeping body mere feet away.

To hear you, to smell you, to practically feel the heat emanating from your skin across the room… it felt like torture. Would he be able to survive several more days of this?

He finally sat up in bed the following morning, feeling restless despite not getting much sleep. He called out your name as he grazed his eyes over you.

You were laying on your side, facing away from him, a mess of hair the only thing he could make out from the pile of blankets you were wrapped up in. 

He called your name again, a bit louder, and you finally stirred, rolling over to look at him with bleary eyes.

“Morning, Leon,” you sighed out, rubbing the sleep from your lashes.

“Mornin’,” was his gruff reply, dragging his fingers through his hair. “You still determined to go exploring today? Even after what happened with the bear?” 

You grinned lazily, turning to face him and propping yourself up on your elbow. “Of course I am. You think a lil run-in with the local wildlife will deter me? Clearly, you haven’t been paying attention.” 

He could argue he’d been paying too much attention, but he’d never say it aloud.

You continued, “Besides, I have a big, strong man to protect me.”

He scoffed, shifting his face away from you so you couldn’t see the blush spreading there. “Oh, yeah? Who’s that?” 

You rolled your eyes before slowly dragging yourself out of bed and sauntering over to him, crossing your arms. “You, silly. Now hurry up and get dressed. We got a big day ahead of us.” 

Before he could protest, you were out the door.

He blew air through his teeth and shook his head, begrudgingly getting to his feet. He looked down at Wolfie, who wagged his tail but didn’t move to leave his cushy dog bed. “Women, am I right?”

He quickly got dressed, cursing the fact he didn’t own a single thing that fit him. He wasn’t sure why he cared, as if a change of clothes would make you interested in a monster.

Your flirtations admittedly affected him, but he wasn’t going to kid himself into thinking you’d ever be attracted to him like this. And for your safety, it would be better if you weren’t. You were strange, sure, but you were still human. Human and fragile, he had to be reminded.

Pulling himself together, determined to keep his distance and stop flirting with you, he made his way down the stairs to face you once more.

As he turned the corner, however, the sight that greeted him made him stop in his tracks.

You had just finished changing, walking out of the side room when you saw him and smiled, doing a little twirl with the outfit you were wearing. “You like it? I bought this shirt just the other day.”

He couldn’t prevent the way his eyes raked over your form, taking in the fashionable boots, tight jeans, and puffy-sleeved baby doll top that sat low and tight across your chest. You had even done your makeup and styled your hair in a high ponytail, front pieces of it dangling to frame your face.

It hadn’t even been five minutes and you were already testing his resolve.

Unfair. 

“Well?” you prodded when he only stood in silence.

He cleared his throat and nodded, trying to act cool. “You look… nice. Not sure how comfortable it’ll be to hike around in all day, but you do you.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing past him and into the kitchen. “I think I’ll be just fine.”

The rest of the morning was spent eating breakfast and setting up for the next trip, though there was a heavy tension Leon was suddenly aware of. It had always been there between the two of you, but it had been a slow, simmering thing. Something manageable.

Now, though? It felt like the pot might overboil.

He had to stop himself from staring at you multiple times, trying desperately to be the gentleman his mother raised him to be. He didn’t want you to think he was a pervert on top of being a literal monster. He had to have some principles to hold on to, after all.  

It’s not like you knew how deeply you were affecting him, anyway. And if he could help it, you never would.

The day’s journey was a bit strenuous, having a lot more ground to cover than the one prior. He decided it was best that Wolfie remain behind, the dog cozied up on his little bed as you were leaving.

Once you exited the house, Leon kept his eyes peeled for that bear again, or any other potential danger, not wanting a repeat of yesterday’s events. Still, he couldn’t help but smile softly at the way you approached every new area with such awe and excitement. It was strange to see someone find such joy in a location he’d deemed his own personal hell. It almost made him appreciate the place, to see it through your eyes. 

Almost.

The two of you visited the farm and the lakeside settlement, returning to the gate of the villa to eat your lunch at the table inside. 

After you finished your meal, you bit your lip the way you always did when you were deep in thought. The action drove him a little crazy, but he ignored it.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“Do you think we’ll have time to explore the castle today?”

He sat back in his seat to consider it, glancing out the nearby window. “Well, we’re making good time. Still got a few hours of daylight. If you don’t dawdle too much on the way there, we probably could.” 

You beamed at him, an excited squeal leaving your mouth. “Fuck yeah! I’ve never been to real a castle before!”

He couldn’t deny the self-satisfaction he felt at the idea of providing you with so many new experiences. If there was anything he was sure of, it was that you’d never forget your time here, and that would be a good enough turnout for him.

He smiled in return. “Well, let’s get to changing that.”

Leon had been through the area many times over the years, clearing the paths that had been obstructed when he was chased around it a decade ago. It was still a difficult trek, especially for a human, and the two of you had to stop occasionally so that you could catch your breath and drink some water. 

He didn’t mind it one bit, finding himself observing the sun glinting off your sweat-slick skin. Your makeup was holding up surprisingly well, though the loose strands of hair you had pulled from your ponytail were beginning to stick slightly to your face. His eyes drifted to your chest, watching it rise and fall with your every breath.

“Okay, we’re good to keep going,” you told him, thankfully unaware of his gaze, which he quickly turned forward.

Eventually, you made it to the rickety old bridge that led to the burnt-down slaughterhouse. Leon had repaired it as best he could in the early days of his transformation, wanting an easy way to get around the area. He found he could jump over the ravine with his new superhuman abilities, but it was still a precarious leap.

He went to stroll across the wooden planks, held together by rope, when he noticed you hadn’t moved to follow.

He raised a confused brow at you. “Well, c’mon.”

You swallowed as you approached the bridge, nervously stepping onto it. Your knees buckled when you looked down and saw how high up you were. He easily caught you, and you held on tightly to his arm for balance. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he mused. “Little miss thrillseeker is scared of heights?”

“Not… usually. More scared of how rickety this thing is than anything,” you grumbled. 

Your grip on him was bruising, but he didn’t mind. “We crossed another one just earlier and you seemed fine.”

“Well, this one isn’t nearly as sturdy, is it?” you snapped, letting out a shaky exhale as you tried to take another step.

He looked thoughtfully at you for a moment, deciding to take a risk by sweeping you off your feet and holding you up in his arms.

“Leon!” you yelped, wrapping your hands around his neck fearfully. “What the hell?!”

He chuckled lightly as you peeked over your shoulder. “Don’t worry, bunny, I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”

You pivoted to face him with wide eyes, your face reddening. “Aren’t I too heavy for this?” you questioned nervously.

He scoffed. “I could pick up a car, easy. This is nothing.” 

“I more so meant the bridge. Wouldn’t want to break it with both our weights combined, right?”

He shook his head. “Do you trust me?”

You stared at him for a few moments but eventually nodded timidly. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then trust,” he began, taking a step forward, “that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“Okay,” you squeaked, holding onto him tighter. You buried your face into the crook of his neck so you wouldn’t have to see the way the creaking bridge swayed with every movement.

He carefully worked his way across without concern, enjoying the feeling of you in his arms. You were delightfully warm as you pressed against him, and the feeling of your breath sweeping over his throat forced him to suppress a shiver.

Regretfully, he made it to the other side, setting you down on solid ground once more. “See? Not so bad.”

You seemed flustered, likely because of your nerves concerning the old bridge, taking a moment to adjust your clothes and hair that were rumpled slightly by the ordeal. “I guess not.”

The two of you began the brief hike to the castle after that, Leon feeling the absence of your body heat so intensely, it was worrying. Whatever this was between you, it was getting out of hand, and Leon was apparently unable to keep his distance.

He had never been particularly good at saying what he wanted, but that never stopped him from seeking it out as if he were a damn homing missile. His interactions with Ada in the past were proof of that. He would have followed her anywhere if he were able. If she had let him.

He banished thoughts of her from his mind, an easier task after a decade of doing it over and over again. His thoughts of you, however, were a different beast altogether. 

He figured, though—he hoped—that once you left, he’d learn to push away his feelings for you, too. At least he had practice.

He was pulled from his introspection when he heard you practically scream in excitement as you came around the bend in the path, the massive, sprawling castle revealed to you.

“Oh my god! Just look at it! It’s huge! And the structure? Friggin’ impressive!” you gushed as the two of you approached the gate.

He grinned down at you and could almost see the stars in your eyes. “Wait 'til you see the inside.”

Your joy was nearly infectious as you explored the area, dragging him around from place to place and only letting him lead when you needed directions. He didn’t mind it, happy to trail after you as you oohed and aahed at damn near everything you saw.

He watched as you admired the flowers in the courtyard, the blooms unruly due to years of neglect, not yet killed by the autumn chill. Once you had turned your back on the bed of red carnations, he couldn’t fight the urge to pluck one from the dirt.

He strolled up behind you as you cooed over the bluebells, offering it to you when you faced him again. “For you.”

You looked surprised at first, but your expression melted into a sweet smile. “Thank you, Leon.”

Before you could reach out to take it, he bent forward and gently tucked it behind your ear, standing upright to get a full view. “Suits you.” 

You seemed almost bashful for a moment, looking away. Trying to fluster you was rapidly becoming his favorite pastime.

Quickly as it had come, your almost shy demeanor disappeared, a twinkle forming in your eye as you plucked a stem of the bluebells and stuck it into Leon’s back pocket. “There, now we’re even.”

He chuckled at the action, finding your reciprocity charming, and the two of continued your journey onward.

You eventually entered the grand hall, and when you finished appreciating the opulence of the marble walls alone, you began to take in the decor.

“You said you like the artwork in the castle, right?” you questioned, pointing at a large landscape painting in front of you.

Leon nodded. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind putting most of these up at my place.”

“Well… no one’s stopping you,” you goaded, grinning at him slyly. “I think this one would look perfect in the dining room, don’t you agree?”

He laughed, running his hand over the back of his neck as he considered it. “I don’t know, it’d be a hassle to bring them all the way to the house.”

“Sure,” you admitted, crossing your arms. “But don’t you think it’d be worth it to spruce up the place? Make it a bit more… homey? Besides, we could just take them out of the frames and roll them up. Make our own. It could be a fun little DIY project, and it’s not like you aren’t swimming in lumber.”

“Fine, I’m convinced.” He sighed, admitting you had a point. “You’d make a decent car salesman, you know that?”

You scrunched your nose at the thought, helping Leon remove the heavy frame from the wall, although he didn’t need it. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” 

Leon smirked, allowing you to gently pull out the canvas, rolling it up. “Just an observation.”

You clicked your tongue in faux offense, continuing the task at hand. 

The two of you collected six different paintings, which Leon was now stuck with holding for the rest of the trip. It was a nuisance, but at least having something in his grip prevented him from acting on his impulse to reach out and touch you. 

Finally, you came across the library, and he knew you could spend an eternity going through the seemingly endless amount of books that lined the shelves as soon as you entered. You were about to make yourself comfortable and start reading to your heart’s content, but Leon had to remind you of your limited time. 

“But this place is a gold mine!” you told him with a pout, the expression so damn cute, it tested his already crumbling resolve. 

“Look, there’re still places to visit, and you have a few more days. We can always come back if you want,” he proposed.

You sighed exaggeratedly but gave in as he thought you would. “Fine, but you can’t stop me from taking some of these,” you informed him, shoving several books into your bag.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Afterward, he led you into the ballroom, and the way you gazed around in amazement at the sheer size of it made him chuckle. 

“Imagine the parties in this place…” you mused. You dropped your backpack on the ground suddenly, marching to the center of the floor. “You know how to waltz, Leon?”

“Can’t say I do, unless you count slow-dancing at prom. Even then, I’m probably a little rusty.”

“Well, set down those paintings and get over here, mister. I’m gonna teach you how to dance like a prince,” you demanded earnestly.

“Seriously?”

“Please..?” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes, and despite his reluctance, he found it difficult to say no to you.

He gave out a long-suffering sigh, placing the paintings against the wall and meeting you where you stood. “If I step on your toes, you only have yourself to blame, bunny.”

You smiled up at him. “A risk I’m willing to take.”

Slowly and carefully, you put his hands into their proper positions; one in your own and the other resting against your waist. You coached him on how to move, and he followed your lead at first, stiff and awkward in his motions. Within a few minutes, though, he quickly picked up the rhythm and you allowed him to take charge, giggling as he spun you around the room.

“You’re a natural,” you complimented, rubbing your thumb against his shoulder where your hand was placed. He found himself doing the same to your side and was enthralled with the shiver that ran through your body, proof that maybe he had even the slightest effect on you.

“What can I say—” he started.

“You’re a quick study?” you teased, echoing his earlier words.

“No, actually,” he corrected, pulling you a little closer. “I was going to say, ‘I have a great teacher’.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure you were.”

After a few more blissful minutes, Leon begrudgingly slowed to a halt and released you from his grasp. “Well, we better get a move on. It’s our last stop for today.”

You went to grab your backpack but he prevented you, telling you to leave it as you’d be coming back through, anyway. You nodded, following him to the final destination.

You laughed with pure glee when he brought you into the throne room, immediately bounding towards the massive, gilded seat. You took your time studying it, running your fingers over the intricate carvings along the sides before pressing down on the red cushion to test its comfiness.

“Well, go on. Sit,” he encouraged, crossing his arms over his chest.

You beamed at him before putting your attention back on the chair, turning and gracefully perching on top of it.

“Look at you, practically made to be royalty,” Leon told you as he approached.

He was joking, but there was truth in it. Seeing you sit on the ornate piece of furniture with one leg crossed over the other and your arms draped upon the sides of it was truly a sight to behold. He didn’t know you could appear so regal, even if it was for pretend. 

“Made for it?” You hummed thoughtfully before saying, “Perhaps I just inherited the throne, the only remaining family of the recently deceased king.”

“Mm, and what would that make me, your Highness?” he questioned, tilting his head. He stood before you now, and he would’ve been remiss not to notice the playful gleam in your eye as you raked your gaze over him. 

“You can be my loyal knight,” you told him, nodding your head. “There are those that transpire against me in this very court, sir. I would need someone diligent and strong to watch for my usurpers, after all.” 

“A knight, huh?” Leon mused, coming up beside you and tracing a clawed finger along the back of the chair. “Not the fierce dragon holding the fair maiden hostage while she waits for someone brave or stupid enough to come looking for her?” He kneeled beside you, then, resting his elbows on the arm of the throne, his chin pressed on top of his folded hands. “No one’s managed to get past me yet. Sorry to tell you, princess.”

You shifted in the chair to face him, fingers splayed out on either side of his arms. “Even better… we could be Beauty and the Beast. A lonesome prince cursed to a monstrous form until he finds true love. And, of course, I’m only here to trade my life for my father’s, who had been terribly rude to sneak into your home unannounced. He’s a bit of an eccentric, you must know, but he’s a good man. And I’m eventually charmed by your uncouth mannerisms and prickly personality.” 

“Uncouth and prickly? Ouch,” Leon chuckled. “Well, how does it end, then? Does true love turn me back into a human? That would be nice.”

“If we’re following the original tale, sure. But I have it on high authority that Beauty might have been more disappointed by the transformation than relieved.”

Leon raised his brows at that. “Disappointed the Beast turned back into a prince?” 

“I’m sure she didn’t complain, of course. He was handsome, after all, and still the man she fell in love with, but… Beauty loved the Beast in part due to his monstrous form, not in spite of it.”

“Beauty sounds like a freak,” Leon quipped, though your words made something of a home inside of his chest, curled up and warm. “I bet you think The Little Mermaid should have kept her tail, don’t you?” 

You bit your lip as you mulled it over, and he struggled not to stare at how the soft flesh gave under the pressure of your teeth, his eyes jumping back to meet yours almost guiltily as you finally replied, “Although I think the story would have been infinitely more interesting if she had, there’s something to be said about sacrifice in the name of love. It was a little unfair, though.”

“Unfair?”

“Well, why did she have to sacrifice everything for the prince? She gave up who she was on a fundamental level just to be with him. And what did he give up? He was still a prince. He was still handsome and rich. And then he got a beautiful girl so desperate to be with him, she’d trade her family, her friends, parts of her own body, her voice—just to get a chance with him. Feels a little unbalanced, doesn’t it?”

You were closer now, and he realized you both had shifted toward each other, like gravity itself had a hand in it. His tongue ran along the back of his teeth as he studied you and that smile dimpling your cheeks. 

If it were gravity, you must have been the sun, then.

“I guess I never thought of it that way,” he responded. “What other wise inferences do you have for me, princess?”

You giggled and the sound might be imprinted in his brain forever. “Oh, so many, it’ll make your head spin.” 

“Guess I have a lot to learn,” he replied, grinning. 

“Definitely, but I think the biggest lesson here is that it's all a matter of… perspective.” 

“I can’t believe anyone would want to overthrow you with smarts like that, your Highness. Sounds like you’d be a great ruler.”

“And that’s precisely why they seek to steal my crown, dear sir. An intelligent woman is a dangerous one,” there was a teasing lilt in your voice that made him suck in a harsh breath, your expression so open and light juxtaposed with the intensity of your eyes trained solely on him. 

A silence stretched on between you as you simply stared at each other, and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest—could hear your own do the same, though he wouldn’t dare hope it meant what he wanted it to.

You made him feel human.

But then he saw his own reflection in your eyes, and the sight of his sharp teeth was the reminder he needed that he wasn’t human, and he never would be again.

He supposed his curse couldn’t be broken.

And so he pulled away.

“We should get back to the house. It’s a long walk,” he told you, looking at the floor instead of you, afraid he might do something rash if he met your gaze for a moment longer. 

You let out a shaky breath, blinking as if you were pulled from a daze, and stood. “Yeah, right. Of course.”

You grabbed your pack from the floor in the ballroom and he took the rolls of paintings leaning against the wall, the two of you rushing to leave the old castle behind. 

And, with the awkward quiet that settled between you as you journeyed back to his home, both of you unable to meet the other’s eye…

It was a long walk, indeed.

--------------------

Masterlist | Previous | Next

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[steamberrystudio]

03/12/2023

Hey everyone! Time for the bi-weekly tumblr update for Steamberry stuffs!

Summary

Finished editing Chapter 5 (WSC)

Decided an additional chapter was needed to fix pacing/plot stuff.

Received some new BG art (WSC)

Worked on the GS lore book including adding profiles and short stories

Ramble

Okay so in my last update I was in the middle of editing chapter 5 and was nearly to the start of chapter six in editing Asher's route. I finished up chapter 5...

At that point when I was looking ahead, I started feeling like I wanted to add in a transition scene to move between Chapter 5 and Chapter 6.

As I started plotting out this scene, one of my ideas took on a life of its own and I realised that it might be better to interject a new, fleshed out story incident that would allow me to slow the pacing as well as flesh out the setting and universe a little more. This incident would also let me tie into some earlier events and connect them to something that occurs in chapter 6, also foreshadowing the chapter 6 incident.

 Ultimately, this became too much to call a "scene" and I decided to branch it off into a supplementary chapter (IE a chapter a bit shorter than the others and meant to be released along with another chapter.

That is what I've been working on since the last update.

This chapter has now served to set up multiple important things.

And is currently 17000 words long (it's going to end up closer to 25k by the end I think. There is a pretty significant story branch that happens at this point based on a specific player choice (That is or is not available based on other factors). If the choice is available and if the player makes that choice, it leads to an entirely different flow of events for a substantial portion of the chapter. That's what I'm currently working on writing.

I have it plotted out in a very detailed way and just have to write it.

Chapters with heavy branching are always a bit of a doozy to write and the WSC chapters are pretty long in general (the longest chapter is 62,000 words right now). So yeah.

Adding new content is still a part of editing I suppose. At least sometimes. I was so excited to cut 4000 words of content in chapter 5. 

Then I added 17000+ more. So.....

That sounds accurate for me. 😱

I've been having a lot of health struggles the last couple of weeks mostly related to chronic fatigue and pain. That, in addition to some really irritating "real life" stuff. But things are still moving forward.

Current word count is 440,000 words.

Regarding the GS lore book - I've been adding character profiles to a "people" section and have also been working on some of the short stories/drabbles. It's close to 300 pages at this point. 💪

Other Stuff:

As usual, I have received a completed BG and sketch, acquiring the game environments at a steady pace.

Upcoming Weeks:

This is getting into a busy time of year so I have a lot of real life distractions even apart from HEALTH. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 Progress always slows a little for me during this period since we have a lot going on.

But here is the plan.

Try to finish adding the profiles to the lore book. (Noooot sure I will. There are still a lot to go and the formatting for them is tricky. And I'm alternating between adding profiles and finishing writing a few side stories I've had ideas for for a while)

Try to finish chapter 5.5 for WSC

That's all for this week. There should be on more update here before the end of the year. See you then! 💪💪

[maple-the-awesome]

We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 22

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 3,679

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

Series Masterlist 🤎 Marvel Masterlist 🤎 Fandom Masterlist

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: LIL' WIZ

Silence isn't always a bad thing, however there's a substantial difference between peaceful tranquility and suffocating strain. Unfortunately, you're stuck with the latter which is making your nerves feel like a trampoline park.

It had been heartbreaking as you helped Tony to his feet, ignoring his stubborn refusal to accept your aid while he attempted to shove you away and stand on his own. It was useless in the end, forcing him to reach a compromise by allowing you to help him into another, warmer room where there's at least a bench he can rest on compared to his former place on the floor.

You feel ashamed for letting things get this far. Each second, you replay today's events in your head, pointing out every little crossroad where you could have possibly done something different just to change the turnout.

Maybe you should've confirmed Tony actually knew about Hollie and parents' deaths instead of assuming Steve already did so. You shouldn't have let that video play. The second you realized what it was going to be about, you should've destroyed the screen and thus prevented Tony from having to see such a horrible thing. You could've done more to prevent the fight that took place afterwards even if that meant risking your own safety by physically getting in between everyone.

'...There are so many things you could've done differently...'

After radioing for someone to come pick you guys up, you search the facility for medical equipment. Tony's injuries aren't fatal, but it'll be awhile before anyone can get here and he might feel a little better once bandaged up. This is what you tell yourself anyways, truly just hoping for a way to distract yourself because maybe then your hands will stop shaking so violently.

You had pretty much forgotten all about Zemo until reentering that main room you had encountered him in originally. What was his plan again? To turn the Avengers against each other as revenge? Well, he succeeded and he probably used the aftermath as a distraction to make his escape. Who knows where he went or if you'll ever have to look at his sorry ass again? Regardless of how much hate you’ve felt towards him all day, you can’t be bothered to care anymore...He’s the least of your concerns right now.

The suffocating silence continues when you return to Tony with a medical kit. Again, he tries shooing you away, however you remain just as stubborn despite the calm and patient tone you fight to maintain with him.

'Besides, he has every right to hate you. You helped Bucky - the man who murdered nearly the whole Stark family. You, a close friend, betrayed him until the last second.'

"I'm surprised you didn't go with them since you’ve seemed so keen on defending Barnes's ass all the time," Tony observes bitterly, refusing to even look at you as you dab his face with a cotton-ball.

You can only sigh, "...I didn't want things to go the way that they did. I didn't want anyone to get hurt like this -"

"- Well, it's a little too late for that, don't you think? Forty two years too late, in fact."

Frowning, you set the bloodied cotton ball down, redirecting your eyes to the medical kit to check what bandages are inside, but your mind is too jumbled to properly look through them. You scan the box several times, yet you can't seem to remember what you just looked at which results in your eyes going back over each item a second and third time. Eventually a forth, too.

"Bucky regrets what happened -"

"- As you keep saying -"

"- When he first remembered Hollie's death, he was devastated - inconsolable even. He's never denied his guilt or his role in it. He believes himself to be just as responsible for what happened as you think he is. Nothing I’ve tried saying has been able to change that,” you explain foolishly as if Tony will share your pain. He doesn’t.

"He deserves it -"

"- Tony -"

Before you're able to put a small butterfly bandage over the deep cut on his forehead, he suddenly jerks away from you with a deadly glare, "- No, I don't give a shit if he feels guilty. He deserves every ounce of it because my aunt did nothing to deserve death! She never hurt anyone. She never took advantage of others, never cheated the system or made shady deals to fill her own pockets - she was better than that and you know what the worst part is? She loved Barnes. She would talk about him all the time and as a kid, I used to wish I could've met him because I thought 'wow, if Auntie Hollie admires him this much, he must be a real amazing guy, huh?'. Turns out he's the one who killed her. She could've lived a long life. She could still be here now if it wasn't for him.

"Do you know how I felt back then? Do you know how it feels to be told that your aunt isn't going to be around for your birthday not because she just can't make it - had a little car trouble or too much work on her desk - but because she was shot dead outside of her own home? Defenseless and left to bleed out alone?! And do you have any idea how I felt learning she was on her way to my party? Hell, I still don't celebrate my birthday because each time it comes around, I think about that week - that week of mom crying and dad throwing shit against the wall in his office as I sat in my room waiting for someone to tell me it was all some cruel joke.”

Tony’s eyes are watery at this point. The more he admits, the more fidgety he gets, eventually shifting against the bench and talking with his hands, “While everyone else celebrates me getting older, I can only remember being four years old sitting in the front row of my aunt's funeral, believing it was somehow my fault because if I hadn't begged her to come to my party, maybe she wouldn't have gone outside that day? M-Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't have been killed -?"

"- Tony, it wasn't your fault," you cut him off sternly, your heart breaking after hearing his voice crack towards the end. You attempt to place a hand over his - more on instinct than rational thought - yet he rips it away.

"I know that," he hisses before his voice falls more silent as he stares at the floor, "I...I know that and I've gotten over that part…but what I can't get over is the fact that Barnes was the one to take her away. My aunt was my role model. She was everything I wanted to be when I grew up. She was always there for me and frankly, she cared about me more than even my damn dad did. He cared about her more than me, too.

“...After she died, he didn't spare any expense looking for her killer and planning to bring the fiercest justice down upon them. What would he have thought if he figured out it was Barnes all along? That he was the one to kill Hollie and would be the one to kill him and mom years later, too? What did our family ever do to him, huh?!"

"...Nothing...None of you did anything," you whisper, keeping your hands flat on your lap. A few tears hit them after rolling down your cheeks, yet you do nothing to fix your slumped-forward posture.

"Then why do you defend him?" Tony challenges, already knowing his confession has done nothing to change your mind towards the situation.

"Because...Bucky didn't do anything to deserve what happened either," Tony opens his mouth, however you don't give him the chance, "Bucky loves Hollie as much as you do. If he had a single ounce of control back then, there's no doubt in my mind he wouldn't have hurt her. The problem was never him, it was HYDRA. They wanted to eliminate anyone who would get in their way. That's why your family was killed. Howard and Hollie both stood against them before and they would've done so again. For that reason, they were killed and so was Maria who I'm sure was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Bucky was captured by HYDRA and used as their assassin against his own will. I'm sure those sick fucks found amusement in sending him after people he once knew and cared about…It's terrible for all involved: those who died, Bucky for being forced to have their blood on his hands, and you for having to loose your family..." You trail off for a second then ask while chewing on your bottom lip, "...I've actually been meaning to ask: did you ever get that present?"

"What 'present'?"

"The one Hollie got you for your fourth birthday - that brass telescope. It was the one you wanted, right? At least I'm certain it was..." You don't look up at him, instead playing with the fabric of your suit, "Yeah, I remember you had that whole faze as a kid where you loved all things space related. You would tell everyone including random people on the street about this one particular telescope that you happened to see at a toy store on Mason Avenue. Of course, I knew Howard would never get the hint even if it whacked him upside the head, so I got it for you myself...Did you ever receive it, though?"

Tony stares at you as if you're clinically insane which might be his exact thought process right now. His mouth hangs open ever so slightly as he shakes his head, "...What did you do? Go through my shit and -"

"- If I went through your shit, I would've had to find it and then I wouldn't need to be asking the question, would I?" You shoot back the remark then sigh, mumbling more to yourself, "...Geeze, out of everyone, I thought you'd be the one to figure it out first given how much you like to insert yourself in our lives. I went through so much effort yet was still on the edge of my seat worrying you'd spot the inconsistencies anyways..."

"What are you on about?" Now he sounds plain annoyed, so much so that he pushes himself off the bench to get away from you as he’s truly beginning to worry about your mental health. Maybe you went insane dealing with Bucky for two years straight or hit your head a little too hard during the fight moments ago. Either way, you're not exactly in his good graces, so he has no reason to sit here and bother listening to your nonsense.

"Tony, why do you think I care so much about Bucky?" You stand up as well, grabbing his arm to prevent him from going any further. Despite the question, you don't allow him to answer, making it rhetorical as you continue, "I've risked everything to help him up until this point yet I stayed here to help you. Now I'm sitting here talking about things I shouldn't know - things about your family that you've kept so close to your chest that there’s no way a random outsider born in the nineties should know them...Come on, you're supposed to be a genius, right? What's the common denominator here?"

For a second, it looks like he's actually thinking about your little 'quiz', but he quickly shakes his head and gives his arm a tug in your grasp, "Let go."

"Not until you answer me."

"I'm not in the mood for this -"

"- Neither am I, Anthony," you remain stubborn, not loosening your grip over his arm, in fact you tighten it, "It's Hollie - she's the common denominator. She loved Bucky more than anything even if he was the one to kill her and she was your aunt which means you held just as much of her heart as he did. Now you're gotta ask what that has to do with me? What does any of this have to do with me and that's the key, Tony! …I was Hollie - way back then, I lived and saw the world as her until the day she died and I still remember nearly every second of it.”

Your frown grows when Tony finally gets his arm away from you, facing you with a glare, yet even through the dim light of this room, you can see the tears brimming in his eyes, "I told you I don't have the time for this nor do I have the patience. It's one thing for you to keep defending Barnes, but to sit here and drag this conversation on while making ridiculous claims that you were my aunt? Do you not hear how crazy you fucking sound?!"

Shrinking under his shout, you once again start chewing on your lip as a nervous habit, your mind whirling with hurried thoughts while you run your now free hand through your hair, "...Perhaps I got some of the details wrong? I'm just going off of old memories here. I have to admit, everything in the days leading up to my death are a little...fuzzy at best, however I do remember the important stuff.

"I-I remember being your aunt. From the moment I first held you, I wanted to make it my mission to spoil the crap out of you because I knew you were the closest thing I'd ever get to having my own child. I wanted to give you the world however that might look like, be it by playing pirates outside or teaching you how to wire a circuit board. It seemed like you always had a new hobby to obsess over and even though I knew you'd have a new one by the end of the week, I still obsessed over it with you no matter what it was because it made you happy.

"Yeah, I sound fucking crazy, but even though I'm (Y/n) (L/n) now, I continue to think of you as my nephew. Ever since I started regaining the memories of my past as Hollie, a part of my thoughts have always been occupied by the people I knew and loved as her. Those feelings have never disappeared.

“You know, I went home and cried that day Natasha first introduced us. I cried because I always dreamed of seeing my brilliant nephew grow up only to have that stolen from me. Now you’re older than me and you don't see me as family which is understandable. I...I don't expect you to believe that I'm Hollie. I just...I don't want you to think for a second that I'm trying to mess with you or take advantage of your feelings. I know I've already let you down by hiding Bucky and not telling you about his role in our family's deaths, however I...My intentions aren't to dig up old wounds for you...I'm sorry it’s worked out like that -”

“- If you're really Hollie…" Tony starts in a whisper and you nearly give yourself whiplash looking up at him, although he's not looking back at you, "...Then what was the message engraved on that telescope and where?"

"The message...?" You echo with a raised eyebrow, nothing coming to mind too quickly.

When you don't answer, Tony clicks his tongue as a way to act casual despite the way he sniffs back his tears immediately afterwards. He's prepared to swallow his disappointment and leave the room regardless of whether someone is here to get you guys yet. He can't stay in this stuffy building anymore, especially not when his chest feels so tight all of the sudden. He needs air...

"I think…I think it was on the bottom,” Tony freezes at the sound of your voice.

Your eyes are squeezed shut as you try your best to recall that telescope. It’s been forty two years, after all. You do remember having a message engraved on it. What was it, though? Something cheesy…Yeah, you were real cheesy back then; the cool aunt Tony would've no doubt been embarrassed by if you were around for his teenage years.

You snap your fingers suddenly, "Right! 'Reach for the stars and beyond even those, Lil' Wiz, love Auntie Hollie'; that was the message...Damn, was it bad. I hated that I couldn’t think of anything more clever. Sure, you were only four, so it's not like you would’ve cared or anything, but I didn’t feel that was a proper excuse for such low standards.”

You’re afraid to glance at Tony, however you somehow find the strength to do so anyways. It’s difficult to read his expression which a lot of people would find shocking if you told them because Tony Stark’s known for his arrogant and loud personality. To leave him speechless is either really impressive or really worrisome.

Unbeknownst to you, he’s thinking and desperately searching for evidence as to why he shouldn’t believe you. He’s spent too much of his childhood being forced to go to counseling and too many birthdays slumped over his bar to suddenly accept this outlandish idea that his aunt - the same aunt he’s gravely missed since he was four years old - is standing right in front of him. The universe isn’t that kind, especially not to him, so there must be some trick here.

Where’s the flaws in your lie? You’ve always been smart, that’s why he offered you a job at Stark Industries after the fall of SHIELD, however you left instead. There! If you’re supposedly Hollie, why’d you turn down his offer and go away? …To find Bucky; that’s right. You’ve spent two years caring for him, but there must be some other logical expectation for that. He’s not bad looking if Tony squints. He might be in need of a good scrub down, yet he’d also build like a brick wall with obvious confidence issues. You’re probably into that shit, who knows?

Steve hated your guts when it first came out you were keeping Bucky from him only to suddenly like you again soon afterwards. What reason can there be for that? The power of friendship prevails? Maybe he’s got a little crush of his own? Those are good excuses, and as for the telescope thing, Tony was probably right about you going through his stuff to find it…The only problem there is that he keeps that telescope locked in his room in a box under his bed since he doesn’t like looking at it. Now, you might be smart, but smart enough to hack into JARVIS just to sneak into his room without taking anything?

“Tony…” You whisper his name, reaching a hand out, however you stop yourself short. You feel incredibly guilty - more so than you had been before this conversation.

Suddenly, you’re reminded of why you don’t like telling people about Hollie. Natasha and Steve are the only ones to ever believe you. Two out of how many others who have cast you aside? You’ve gotten too comfortable; that’s your problem. This is why you’re not supposed to tell anyone about your secret. It’s hurt those who knew Hollie and it hurts you, too, because it only reinforces the idea that you can’t live two lives at once.

Opening your mouth, you plan to apologize again while biting back your tears, but Tony beats you to the speaking role, “...So, how’s this work?”

“H-Huh?”

“The whole…Hollie-(Y/n) thing?” He gestures a hand towards you, scrunching his eyebrows, “You’re living as (Y/n), but you have Hollie’s memories?”

You hesitate, “I, um…It’s a reincarnation thing, I guess. I don’t really know how or why I remember my past -”

“- And that’s why I’m guessing you joined SHIELD?”

“It’s nice to start somewhere familiar,” you shrug awkwardly, not sure where he’s taking this, “It was supposed to be a job until Natasha offered to introduce me to you. I wasn’t planning on sticking around, but I also wanted to see how you were doing…How you turned out with Howard’s parenting job.”

“‘Parenting’ is a generous word…” Tony scoffs with a roll of his eyes. When he trails off, you dare to look up at him fully, watching his features shift from a pretty good poker face to a softer, more vulnerable expression, “...Did I turn out like you hoped?”

His words take you by surprise and you must’ve blinked a dozen times while gaping like a fish before they process inside your head. Even when you understand what he had asked, you’re still left shocked because how could that ever be a question in his head?

“Of course!” Your response reflects your breathless astonishment, “I don’t think I could be any prouder than I am of you, Anthony.”

Tony sniffs again, turning his head away from you as if that’ll make his hand invisible from your sight as he almost raises it to his face. He halts this action, however, turning back to you with a poor attempt at a ‘casual’ nod, “Good, um, that’s - Hmph!”

Whatever he was going to say, he’s cut off when you step forward and wrap your arms around him. It’s not the most comfortable hug given his suit and you’re careful not to cut yourself on the broken shards, although it’s still enough to have him dazed for a second, his arms held out to the side in refusal (or perhaps fear) towards the idea of hugging you back.

“...What are you -?”

“- I haven’t gotten to hug my nephew in forty two years…Let me have this,” you whisper, your eyes shut not that it saves you from crying. Those blasted tears find a way anyways!

Slowly, his arms fall around you, holding onto you tightly seconds before the sound of sniffles can be heard echoing through the quiet air and once again. You’re smiling softly, feeling like you’re back in 1974, holding a young Tony in your arms as he cries against your shoulder over how long it’s been since he had seen you a week ago. Many things have changed since then, but your love for your nephew never has.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

<- PREVIOUS CHAPTER

[chriswhitelawyer]

Rear-End Accidents

Causes of Rear-End Accident

Understanding the Common Causes of Rear-End Accidents is important to preventing these types of accidents. If you have been injured in a rear-end auto accident, you should call me for a free consultation. I am a Motor Vehicle Accident Attorney (434) 660-9701 A substantial number of auto accidents are rear-end crashes. Following to closely can be a cause of a rear-end crash.

What causes most rear end accidents:

Distracted driving:

Distracted driving accidents are a real problem in the United States. Basically, the Centers for Disease Control identifies three types of distracted driving. Moreover, the three types of distracted driving are visual, manual and cognitive. Visual is taking your eyes off the road. Manual is taking your hands off the wheel. Cognitive is taking your mind off driving.

The CDC further identified that 3,100 people were killed because of distracted driving in 2019. Often, we do not get these statistics until a few years after the fact, because the information takes time to be collected. What was an unfortunate fact is that 1 in 5 of the people who died from a distracted driver in 2019 were walking, riding bikes or not in a vehicle.[1]

Driving while using the cellphone:

Driving while using a cellphone is illegal in Virginia. § 46.2-818.2. “Use of handheld personal communications devices in certain motor vehicles; exceptions; penalty. It is unlawful for any person, while driving a moving motor vehicle on the highways in the Commonwealth, to hold a handheld personal communications device.”[2]

In Virginia, Driving while using a cellphone is a primary offence. , the difference between primary and secondary offences is what you can get a ticket for and what an officer can pull you over for. A primary offence is something an officer can pull you over for. For example, if an officer sees you using a cellphone, they can pull you over. If an officer sees you do not have a seat belt they cannot pull you over but can give you a ticket for not wearing a seat belt if you have been pulled over for another reason.

Drunk driving:

Drunk driving is never ok. It is never ok to drink and drive. Every year people in the United States are killed because of drunk driving. If you have been injured as a result of a drunk driver, you should call me for a free consultation. I am a motor vehicle accident attorney. Consequently, drunk driving accidents carry with them punitive damages. Nevertheless, punitive damages have a multiplier effect and can quickly add up. I have secured substantial settlements for drunk driving accident clients.[3]

The National Highway Traffic and Safety Administration collects and disseminates information about drunk driving accidents. According to NHTSA 37 people a day die from drunk driving accidents.[4]

reckless driving:

Reckless driving is a crime in Virginia.[5] Subsequently, it was made a crime to deter this conduct. Reckless driving is the source of a lot of auto accidents injuries. In many states, reckless driving, like drunk driving, brings with it punitive damages. Subsequently, I have secured punitive damage settlements for clients that have been injured in reckless driving auto accidents. Usually, insurance companies move a little quicker with the level of negligence amounts to recklessness.

Depending on the state the accident happened in, if you have been the victim of a reckless driving accident you may be entitled to punitive damages. Some states do not recognize all conduct as a punitive damages warranting event. In contrast, the driving laws in the United States very substantially from state to state. For example, in the Commonwealth of Virginia, a hit and run accident may not entitle you to punitive damages while in Florida it certainly will.

For example, one of my former clients was driving along a highway when another driver approached from the rear, went into the oncoming lane beside them and was forced to swerve and side swipe my client in order to avoid a head on collision. This was reckless driving. I was able to secure the full insurance policy for my client.

road rage or aggressive driving:

I have secured settlements for clients that have been injured as the result of a road rage and aggressive driving accident. Likewise, one of my clients was rear ended after being berated and followed by a person perpetuating road rage. I must commend it when an insurance company does the right thing and provides a substantial settlement for what was clearly conduct that is unacceptable. My client was being followed, flicked off, cursed at, threatened with a much larger vehicle then my client was in and eventually rear-ended. Luckly, we had proof of all of this conduct and were able to secure a settlement.

Road rage may be on the rise. “The number of aggressive drivers has increased steadily since America went back to work following the pandemic.”[6] There are several road rage aggressive driving cases in Virginia every year and sometimes, they result in death.[7]

Road rage is not acceptable and if you have been injured as a result of a road rage accident you should call me for a free consultation (434) 660-9701. Aggressive driving is also a problem in this country, we are all on the road together so be safe out there and considerate to others.

Conclusion

If you have experienced a rear-end collision, the first thing you should do is call your local authorities. The second thing you should do is call a motor vehicle accident attorney. A motor vehicle accident attorney can focus on getting you maximum compensation for your auto accident. The insurance companies are not on your side. Even though you pay premiums, once you have a claim often they turn on you.

[1] https://www.cdc.gov/transportationsafety/Distracted_Driving/index.html

[2] https://law.lis.virginia.gov/vacode/title46.2/chapter8/section46.2-818.2/

[3] https://chriswhitelawyer.com/results/

[4] https://www.nhtsa.gov/risky-driving/drunk-driving

[5] https://law.lis.virginia.gov/vacode/title46.2/chapter8/section46.2-868/

[6] https://advance-lexis-com.eu1.proxy.openathens.net/document/?pdmfid=1516831&crid=44e713ef-a39b-41c6-809c-e6d891fea635&pddocfullpath=%2Fshared%2Fdocument%2Fnews%2Furn%3AcontentItem%3A67BV-R1S1-DXVP-V410-00000-00&pdcontentcomponentid=152567&pdteaserkey=sr0&pditab=allpods&ecomp=tmnyk&earg=sr0&prid=6d67e9fd-705e-4fa4-be80-e0802748d332

[7] Canipe v. Commonwealth, 25 Va. App. 629 (1997)

Chris White Lawyer, LLC. is a Lynchburg, Virginia Law Firm. Available for consultations in person, via Facetime, Skype, Zoom or phone (434) 660-9701. Please also check out my practice areas in Criminal Defense Attorney and Car Accident Lawyer. At my Law Firm we focus on the best result for the client. To stay connected I have a Youtube , Instagram, Facebook, Twitter,  LinkedIn, Tumblr, Blogger, Reddit,  Yelp, Avvo and Justia.

Chris White lawyer, LLC

Cellphone: (434) 660-9701

Available with appointment (434) 660-9701:

700 12th St, Lynchburg, VA 24504

Available with appointment (434) 660-9701:

100 Tradewynd Dr. Lynchburg, VA 24502

[phoenixduelist]

His unceremonial rescue from his boat(A dingy) by the captain had him quickly placed on her substantially larger(and well-staffed) ship. While his boat got hooked up on the back and offered to her as thanks for putting a more substantial barrier between him and the dark abyss of the sea. Now having been put before the captain in her quarters, he still had his little smile, a nervous tick that he quite hardly could stop as he was happy to be alive, but imagined he might be quite horribly treated if he misstepped, she had already proven to be quite forward with her intentions.

He'd give a proper bow to her, his eyes never averting from hers during it. "Names Striker, I am no mariner of any royal, nor hold any allegiance to a country. I was on my vacation from a rather unfortunate shipping accident which left me only with the clothing on my back. I hope that you may permit me to stay well and dry so I may offer my services to you."

Her crew has long stopped questioning her sanity; they were given proof of how badly captivity has damaged her mind. The yelling from below was quite a distraction and a nuisance, not to mention a possible danger to their currently peaceful horizon. Of course the Captain was the one to take action with a snarled jump into the stranger's boat. It progressed as most encounters, Jancsi already covering his eyes from the upcoming events; no matter how many times she had done it, the throat tearing technique always made the marksman a little sick.

Only it never came. As much to their shock as hers. Instead the crew found themselves helping this man, this...serpentine creature onto the Vihar. Rozália wasn't done with her tests just yet, one slithering sentence wasn't enough to save someone only to prolong their death.

The silence in the quarters tense, she's at ease despite the stranger's- Striker's appearance. It was the good goddamned Caribbeans after all, supernatural wasn't a rarity and the dead tended to...not rest. A low hum, more akin to a growl accompanied by a smile too sharp.

“Seems like you have to introduce yourself a lot as you didn't leave any compromising opening.” she didn't speak like the typical pirate, all she had was the roughness of her accent to the otherwise as carefully crafted words

“Careful what you wish for, it might just be granted and you will find yourself longing for the soaked dinghy in a raging storm.” emerald glinted in the shades of the quarters; curiosity

“Maybe you could start by retelling that accident. And answering the crucial question: do you know who am I?” the last request was both looking for information and a test itself, with the prize being survival

[zongzhii]

I mald about my webtoon for God knows how long (IlluEden 3-2 post update notes)

I realize I never actually made a post about IlluEden at all, which is a shame because it's my favorite beloved-yet-often-forgotten oc project that I genuinely want to complete!

Obligatory plug first:

So Ep 3-2 released a while ago, which was an interesting event because E3-1 released in... October. Unfortunately I ran out of my buffer once I realized that at the speed of my planned weekly or biweekly upload schedule, I'd be uploading like 5 panels per ep and story immersion would get ruined :(

As a result, I ended up reworking basically the entire script so far in order to have longer, more substantial episodes, which also combined with my low priority for the comic to mean that almost half a year in, these two have only. Just. Met.

YES IT'S MY FAULT YES I BIT OFF MORE THAN I COULD CHEW YES I SHOULD HAVE SIMPLIFIED MY STYLE MORE

But I look at some of my panels and I'm like "ZAMNNNNNNN" because these blorbos are taking over my existence

like just...kmmdjdmishfjdksnsb

My babies;;;; my precious;;;;; I can't wait to inflict pain and suffering upon you both;;;;

Anyways there's a few details I always want to write in that often get cut out for redundancy, but sometimes they're cute little tidbits so I'd like to share them too.

This time, I'll just share a bunch of stuff from the beginning up to the most recent chap.

Originally, I was going to show Astra falling down a cliff, giving him these injuries. For his sake, I changed it. Also because I wanted the focus to be the shooting star (I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now)

Despite him being literally clad in pure white, Lucifer's design changed like a good 3 times in the past 3 episodes. It's going to change again, these aren't his normal clothes. And it'll also keep changing because I guess he's my fashionista for some reason.

Astra, on the other hand, has kept this design since its inception. Well, minor detail change but for the most part, he has like one outfit.

On the topic of Astra, I wasn't expecting the two protagonists to turn out so antagonistic towards each other! Or well... antagonistic is a bad word, probably. Lucifer may be (from what I hope I've shown) quite sympathetic l, but I think even he has limits for how much groaning and grumbling he can take. As a result, 3-2 managed to have a bit more cheerful vibe than I expected, as a light comedic mood comes from the contrast of Lucifer's and Astra's demeanors.

Of course, this contrast may not all be lighthearted. As much as Astra is an edgy emo boi, perhaps that stems from his roots or insecurities. And as much as Lucifer tries to distract from his situation, he evidently knows the true gravity of being an "ex-" archangel.

But will it be addressed in the next episode? Or will I derail the story and turn it into fantasy romcom between high schoolers trapped in another world? Who knows? Not me, that's for sure. I only guide the story, it weaves its path by itself.

That's the end of my rambling on 3-2, I'll see y'all at EP4-1!

[singleton07mcnamara]

A lot of people are busier than ever these times. That's why it can be significant for you to deal with your time properly. How can you do that? If you study this posting, you'll find that it is really considerably much easier than you consider. Retain reading to come across some suggestions about how you can be a pro at time administration.

Take into account utilizing a timer for every endeavor you need to have to comprehensive. Should you be very easily distracted and have issues concentrating, use the timer to set a time restrict that will increase your target. If it is an hour you have to have for a process, perform fifteen minutes and acquire a fast crack. Rinse and repeat and you will be additional effective on the job. Program any critical events or appointments. Consider to develop a time restrict for those people activities. The moment you have a schedule prepared out for the working day, do your best to adhere to it. If 1 point goes additional time, obtain a area that you could minimize the allowed time. This will assist you get as a result of your working day devoid of heading around your time constraints. Make the most of your time use. Figure out just how substantially time it's going to just take you to do each individual job. This suggestion will enable you organize your duties and control your time in an successful fashion. If you discover on your own with further time on your palms, use it to pamper on your own. Be confident to make a prioritized to-do checklist. You may obtain that routines that are not vital consume a large component of your working day. Prioritizing responsibilities signifies investing your time and electricity on the things that most need to have to get finished. Get started off with a to-do listing, and put the most crucial chores at the top of the checklist. Seem into getting a time administration class. Maybe you just usually are not positive how to organize your time. Having a course can enable you figure out what is significant and what isn't. You can come across these classes at regional schools and even on the net. Ordinarily bongda luu are reduced price or even cost-free. Master to allow the very little matters go when you are confused by a chaotic working day. Folks who have a tendency to fuss in excess of fewer crucial matters frequently shed their target on the major picture, so throwing away time. Have your priorities straight and will not permit smaller problems to get in the way of managing time successfully. Take the time to replicate every single day and take into consideration how you've employed your time. You want to use your time effectively. Verify your voice mails and e-mail only when you have set aside time for them. Checking them as they are despatched is a squander of time. If you have a task that you have been dreading, break it up into quite a few sittings. If you operate on the venture for 10 or fifteen minutes at a time, you can get as a result of it much much easier. You will not have to dwell on the anxiety and discomfort that you are heading via while undertaking it. Try out to emphasis on the activity at hand at all moments. You should not let yourself get distracted. Folks may perhaps talk to you to do other responsibilities though you happen to be working. Do not permit that materialize. Make absolutely sure that you comprehensive just one job prior to transferring on to the following a single. The time you shell out planning your day can enable you preserve oneself on time all through it. Commit a couple minutes every morning to mapping out your responsibilities and appointments, supplying you at least ten minutes between just about every. This aids to stay clear of rushing, and should assistance you to manage the complete time you have to work in the working day better. Occur to grips that no a person is 100% successful. There are no robots amid human beings. You would not be fantastic in your intention of economical time administration. All you can do is attempt, and work challenging to do your very best. Don't get frustrated if some times are far better than many others. Which is the character of it. Now that you have had the opportunity to browse this write-up, you are in a superior posture to control your time thoroughly. Time management is a ability that will help you all your existence, so obtaining made use of to it now is a superior strategy. Use the recommendations above to make you an expert.

[wordsnstuff]

Guide to Drafting

Patreon || Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Work In Progress

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Planning v. Discovery

The first thing you must decide when you embark on the journey of drafting a story is how you’re going to get it done. Typically, there are two groups you can fit into, though most writers are somewhere in between. There are writers who plan meticulously before they begin writing to create a very clean first draft, or there are discovery writers (otherwise known as “pantsers”) who find more success in choosing a premise and then using a zero draft to explore the idea before gluing down any details. You are most likely someone who falls between those two methods. Some initial planning to feel familiar with your idea before you do some of the planning through the writing itself. Having some semblance of a method will help you narrow down your own process, which is immensely important if you want to get any substantial project near completion.

Consistency

Drafting is a difficult process because it’s either the revisitation of ideas you’ve already had, or the generations of ideas in quick succession. If you want to have a draft in a reasonable amount of time, you must develop a consistency in your writing. I won’t say that it must be a strict routine because time management can be a luxury, but you must make the consistent effort to write, and keep it in the forefront of your mind. Even if you don’t write every day, it should be something you try to make time for every day.

Know What You’re Trying to Accomplish

To get a draft done, you need to set expectations for yourself and they must be realistic. That doesn’t mean they have to be easy, or an amount of work you’ve been able to accomplish in the past. Considering how much time you dedicate to writing and your skillset, it should be a goal within reality. In addition, you must accept that you cannot create a masterpiece in one draft. For each version of your story that you write, you must have a focused goal, such as maintaining consistent characterization, making the plot concise and engaging, or making the prose more fluid and efficient. If you have a specific and attainable goal that you can accomplish in a reasonable amount of time with a fair amount of precision, each draft will be better than the last.  

Designate Work to Phases

As mentioned in the last section, it maximizes your time and effort to have specific and attainable goals for each draft. This doesn’t mean that you rewrite the draft each time (though that is very common amongst writers), but that you designate tasks to draft versions. I find it very helpful in clearing my mind and soothing my perfectionist anxiety to make a “schedule”, outlining what I’ll accomplish in each version following the zero draft. For example, my draft schedules usually end up something like this:

Zero Draft: Main plot line, basic characterization, key world building

First Draft: Finalize Timeline, research for world building, structure

Second Draft: (Rewrite) Plot Development Fine Tuning

Subplot development

Foreshadowing

Build up to climaxes

Tone & Pace

Third Draft: (Intermittent Rewrites) Character Development Fine Tuning

Backstory

Subtextual Development

Making sure motivations are clear

Relationships between characters

Reinforcing character arcs

Checking dialogue

Fourth Draft: (Give to Beta Readers) World Building & Prose

Descriptions & Flow

Finalize settings

Checking grammar & punctuation

Reader Immersion

Fifth Draft: Incorporate Beta Reader Feedback

Write for Yourself First

In what some call the “zero-draft”, there are no rules. This draft is purely for your eyes. It’s you telling yourself the story for the first time. So, you don’t have to write in chronological order, or know the right word you’re looking for, or take a break every time you run into a problem. The purpose of the zero draft is to get a rough idea of as much of the story as you can and avoid getting snagged on minor details. This part is important. A lot of writers like to outline meticulously before they begin drafting and if that works for you, that’s great, but the majority of writers who attempt that get stuck in the planning phase, or burnt out on their story before a word of it exists. The easiest way to avoid those two situations is to do a zero draft, which can be as long or short as you want if it provides a skeleton for you to add meat to later.

Common Struggles

~ How do you estimate the number of words/chapters?... That depends on the genre, mostly. However, that’s usually something you decide in the second draft and beyond, and it can vary because of factors you haven’t got locked down until the plot and character arcs are firm or final. This is also something you’ll probably do a lot of tinkering with, and receive feedback on, especially from beta-readers, who can advise you on where natural breaks could occur from their perspective.

~ Why, after planning everything out, do I always struggle to write the draft?... 99% of the time, it’s because you’ve either burned yourself out, or accumulated too much pressure. When you put that much effort and time into a story, you can either slip into a headspace where you feel little excitement about it because you’ve already done all of the problem solving and had all of the revelations. It’s usually beneficial at this stage to take a step back (even if you’re not burnt out) and give your story some space, so that once you come back to it, you’re enthusiastic enough to fully realize your vision. If instead you’re struggling to write because you feel a lot of pressure to do justice for a story you’ve put so much love into already, take a step back, remember that the first draft is just for you, and work on letting go of the idea that the zero draft is meant to serve any purpose beside simply existing. 

~ How do I come up with the necessary scenes to move the story forward between major plot points?... Most writing problems can be solved by asking yourself the right questions. When you’re trying to figure out what your reader needs to see next in order to effectively set up the next major event, ask yourself “What would happen between event A and event B that would add context or make event B more impactful?”. Treat it like a real situation and try to map out all of the tiny, notable moments that would take place between the major plot points, and then assess those moments on the basis of how impactful they would be to the coming scenes, and whether they can add context, set the tone, or aide in the rising action.

~ How do I balance sticking to the draft and following my own creative instinct in the moment?... This is a judgement call. Sometimes you’ll realize that maybe you should have just stuck to the outline, but remember that you can always go back, rewrite, test things out, etc. Always save every version of every scene, just in case, and go wild. Don’t be afraid to take detours just to explore. The writing process is anything but linear. 

~ How do I maintain momentum in my writing progress when I constantly have distractions or other responsibilities that take priority?... Work at it. There’s no magic trick or piece of advice I could say that gets rid of your personal responsibilities. Write when you can, don’t make excuses on top of the reasons you have no control over, and remember that you create your own deadlines and expectations. Be kind to yourself, do what you can, and don’t spend potential writing time punishing yourself because there isn’t as much as you’d like. 

~ How should I designate space (words/pages) to specific scenes/description/conversations, etc?... Trust your instinct and remember you can always cut/add later. In the earlier drafts, I’d advise you try to create as much material as possible to work with, and in the later drafts, be ruthless when determining what is necessary and adds value, and what doesn’t.

~ How do I finish a draft if I regularly lose motivation or interest in my projects?... Accept the fact that motivation is fickle, and that no writer in history has ever maintained “inspiration” for any project from the beginning to the end. There are going to be days where you’re like “ugh this is not what I want to do right now”, probably more than there are days where you’re stoked to work on your project, but that’s reality. If your goal is to finish a draft, you must recognize that writing is work, and nobody wants to work all the time. Try to supplement the lack of motivation by setting a positive and enjoyable routine so that, even when you’re not particularly motivated, you still know that your writing time will be peaceful and comfortable. 

–

Masterlist | WIP Blog

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[raksh-writes]

You’ve got me in a heady drop (got me in your open hand)

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Nogitsune/Stiles Stilinski

Words: ~1k

For Day 5 of Stiles Rarepair week 2021! Prompt was Future fic and for those of you that read/are reading Look into the Abyss, y’all can consider this post-LitA ^^ Definitely a part of one of the ideas I’m considering for the maybe-sequel, so I decided to do a lil’ snippet and the event felt perfect for it. Also, this prob wouldn’t have happened if not for the darling @plushrumpasaurus that enocuraged me to take this direction - this snippet is for you, hun, for whenever you have the time and spoons - I’ll hope this will proivde at least some nice distraction 💗

For more about the event itself and other submissions, check out @stilesrarepair ! And all the love 💗

Warnings/Tags: Dom/sub themes, Collars, Established Relationship

--

“Is that something you would want?” Void asked, tracing a line of kisses up Stiles’ throat, nuzzled his nose right under Stiles’ ear. “To wear my collar on your pretty neck?”

--

It’s not that Stiles hasn’t thought about it — since the question fell between them in a tease, just weeks before Void left his mating bite in Stiles’ neck — but that he hadn't paid it much mind back then. And with all the bruises Void loved leaving on him on a daily basis, with the fresh bite-mark stark against his pale skin, it just didn’t occur to Stiles to want anything more — at least not until they found themselves in a completely new city, among complete strangers, and with people actually trying to hit on them. 

As flattering as it was, Stiles didn’t feel completely comfortable with the attention — and with Void away from him for most of the day for the first time in months, the sudden emptiness it brought on quickly became almost too much. Their connection always provided comfort, but Stiles couldn't help but crave… something more substantial, something different he could hold onto; hold up as the mark that ordinary people could see. And then Stiles noticed the necklace snug around one of his friend’s neck — simple and unassuming, with a single “O” ring in the middle — and the idea had slammed itself back into his brain.

The territory in itself wasn’t completely new to him — Stiles is, after all, curious by nature and was aware that their… dynamic fit the criteria more than it didn’t. Not always and not in the typical way, but Stiles couldn’t deny that submitting to Void’s easy command felt as instinctive as breathing, sometimes even more so. They didn’t really live the lifestyle, though — too naturally chaotic for it, too intense and too eager to go off the rails; nothing controlled about it besides how Void would twist Stiles any and each way he pleased; Void was always, always hungry — and Stiles relished in the fact that, these days, it was more for him than anything else. And, aside from the few times a specific mood has struck, they didn’t really do scenes either, so he hadn’t looked too much into the whole thing.  

Still. It has occurred to Stiles. It has — really — occurred to both of them. And when the idea wormed itself back into Stiles’ brain, he just couldn’t push it away — tried to keep it a secret, at first, but when it started to crawl all over his mind, it finally slipped through enough for Void to stop ignoring it. With their connection turned mating-bond there really wasn’t much to do in terms of keeping secrets.  

“Something there you want to tell me, little fox?” Void asked, finally, one evening as they laid together on the couch. Stiles curled up with his back against Void and the demon’s thumb brushing up and down his throat, something or the other playing idly on the tv. 

“Yeah,” Stiles admitted, after a long moment of indecision. If he truly wanted it — and for the last couple of days he really couldn’t deny it anymore — Stiles had to say it. He had to tell his mate. “Yeah, there is.”

Void just nuzzled into his hair, thumb still stroking soothingly at Stiles’ throat. “I’m all ears, kitten. Tell me.” 

And Stiles did. 

For the first time, they’ve chosen a couple of simple ones, “Only to see if you even like them, little fox.” One for the day, and one for the… well, play. Soft, buttery leather with just a “D” ring in the middle. 

Stiles wanted to try it on almost immediately, so Void put the leather around his neck in the evening of the same day they came in, a smirk on his lips as he pulled it snug against Stiles’ throat. And it felt… weird. Good. Changed almost nothing aside from sending a new, electric thrill through his muscles and restricting the small patch of skin from Void’s biting kisses; the first Stiles enjoyed, the other — not so much. But when Void took it off afterward, curled around Stiles and lips soft against the freshly uncovered skin, Stiles couldn’t help but melt; he might’ve enjoyed it far more than having the collar on by itself. They didn’t use it that much, but it was fun to have, to explore the many possibilities. 

The day collar, on the other hand, became a whole other matter. 

It sat in Stiles’ bedside table for days before he finally decided to try it on — to wear it for the day. At university and then in the shop. It consisted only of a thick chain of rings and a small, simple paddock connecting the two ends in the hollow of his throat — along with the thin, silver chain he got from Lydia and the crystal on a leather cord, it wouldn’t stand out too much. Still, it felt like a statement, even if just a few would know what it really meant — the bite was only for his and Void’s (and very few chosen) eyes only, but the collar… the collar would be for everyone to see. Which, not accidentally, was the whole point. 

 “You know you don’t have to, don’t you,” Void said, that morning, the chain and paddock in his hands — small little key already in the lock, attached to an equally simple silver necklace — dark eyes sharp and heavy on Stiles. 

“No, I know.” He shook his head, spine strengthening on a heavy breath. “I want it.”

Void’s gaze stayed on him for one more drawn-out moment before he nodded, stepping in just that little bit closer so the heat of his body seeped right underneath Stiles’ skin. 

The chain was cool as it slipped around his neck and the click of it sliding shut soft — the key closed in Void’s fingers. Then Void slipped a hand around the paddock and tugged Stiles into a kiss. 

Any and all tension still left in Stiles’ muscles dissipated right there and then — and when Void turned him around to face the mirror, Stiles couldn’t help but think it looked right when he feared it wouldn’t. That the chain resting on his collarbones, crossing through the bite in the curve of his neck and shoulder, would look as if it’s breaking the mark into two. But it didn’t — instead, it just looked like another one of Void’s marks on him — this one for everyone to see. And when their eyes met in the mirror, Void leaned down to leave a kiss on them — his bite and the collar both. 

“Good boy,” he purred, just a second later, lips pressed against Stiles’ ear and body flush against his back — and Stiles lets himself go pliant and languid in Void’s embrace, the softest of moans slipping past his mouth. 

They would get personalized collars for him in the future, Stiles is sure of that, but for now — for now, he’s going to wear the ones he has with pride.   

[barberzbunny]

Lights. Camera. Action. - Prof. Barber x Reader

Word count: 3.7k (also on wattpad)

Warnings: Affairs/Infidelity, Massive Age-gap, Teacher/student relations, the Reader is a nymphet— and Charlie glamorizes the fuck out of it, Sexually explicit thoughts, Innocence Kink, Size difference, Filthy talk, Daddy Kink, Fingering, Sex in the photography darkroom, Heavy cheating kink, seriously, it's crazy, Homewrecker Kink (yes, It's a thing)

Mr. Barber's hands were splintered with a magic that only he possessed. Capable of eliciting the most pain— and applying the most pliantest of touches.

They were tasked with many things; writing in his signature, sloven cursive, slashing markings with the pen his hand dwarfed, gesturing ardently as he lectured.

But they were better at touching you.

Caressing you, inflicting an elating pain out of you, rousing bliss from the center that anchored you down.

Your thighs were his favorite to explore... winding up that supple, jiggly, stretch-marked flesh... kneading, venturing, slithering up the backs, sneaking under the flowy breadth of your skirt. The skirt that tested his craving for a curious, innocent little girl like yourself.

He loved a curious little kitten, so eager to pounce and gnaw and play....

His fingertips ghosting the curve of your ass, fondling gently, but with sinister intent. Nails embellishing tenderly into the flesh, as his teeth embark on a quest that involves exploring your throat, brushing, but never fully nipping.

Like that one evening on a picnic blanket somewhere, with the suns scorning summer rays and the breezes humidity— where that short, chastily white, bohemian dress clung onto your skin where the sweat harvested, accentuating your curves, glistening your features with perspiration.

Wind tousling your hair, billowing through those locks that his fingers skimmed and tangled through, roughly, because it always evoked a primal, stunned squeak from your mouth.

The wind would jostle with the flowing hem of your pure, docile, nearly transparent dress, and reveal just enough of your cotton baby pink panties that had that silky little bow he loved embedded into the top.

The way your sweat-slicken features were painted golden under the suns evening hue, as you straddled his lap and only slightly gyrated your hips, cupping his cheek, grinning that pearly, glowing smile at him as he only basked in your glory. Watching you with a stoic ripple of his brow and a faint curl of his lip.

"Mr. Barber," a boyish voice chides.

Charlie blinks profusely, bewildered. His nose skewers up, chest swelling with his deep breath, when dozens of pairs of concerned, inquisitive eyes gape back at him.

"Yes?" He appoints gruffly, clearing his throat. Scratching at the sweat beading on his brow.

The boy swallows nervously. "Uh, you... were just saying how we need to improve for... next weeks show." He states heedfully.

Charlie's throat bobs as he gulps, eyes flickering around the plethora of intrigued students— darting to you. Doing a thorough, calculated survey of your persona, that radiated prudence.

Your cheeks were famished red with timidity, smile feigning innocent, false purity. Short skirt riding tumultuously up your thick fucking thighs, that he would love to just be smothered by right now.

Your fingers twiddle, fidget with the fringe hem. Toying with the small, tethered strand that unroots from it. Your doe eyes blink back at him coyly.

"Yes," he felt as if the simple word punched through his lungs, hoarse and uncertain. He shakes his head vehemently, "Yes." He confirms assertively, gesturing towards the curious student with his ink pen. "You know how much I appreciate your compliance, and dedication to my class— but there is much altering on my and your behalves to be done before we premiere next Thursday."

Considering his meticulousness; it should've wounded him to mandate modifications at a time so close to curtain call, but it didn't. Maybe because something, or someone else, was torpedoing throughout his easily tantalized mind instead. That somebody gleamed at him with poisonous, candied eyes, making it hard to relish in the task at hand, as being the director of one of broadways most critically-acclaimed stage adaptations of Don Quixote.

His eyes flicker to the standard clock mounted to the wall— the tedious ticks taunting him with each, beating chime.

"I've wasted your time today," he apologizes haphazardly, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, pen still stuffed between two slender, thick fingers. "We'll be reconvening in the East auditorium this evening, as preparation for tomorrow's rehearsal. It's not mandatory— but if you ever want to see a stage with me behind those stage-lights ever again; I suggest you attend."

The clock strikes noon as he affirms his potently delivered speech. The bell rings boisterously, dismissing the cluster of students as they file out of the dome-constructed classroom giddily, yapping murmurs.

He eyes you as you flounder charily through the group, sandwiched between the congested crowd, your shoulders high-strung, binder embraced tightly to your chest. Scrambling out of the room in those tiny, polished black clogs you always paired with those chivalrously pastel skirts.

He saddles up his tawny, worn-leather bag, cramping it full of overflowing portfolios, scripting logs, and the canister of beefy-vegetable soup he prepared for himself yet refused to touch, slinging it over his broad shoulder once the class was cleansed of students.

He glanced around the lecture hall, glimpsing the pristine face of his watch, sloppily shoving up his sleeve with his index finger, narrowing his eyes to squint out the digits articulating on his watch. 12:02. Two more hours, and he could have his hands of expertise exploring your body.

That imperfectly-flawless body that belongs to him, belongs to the curves and crevices and callouses of his palms. Belongs to the breadth of his body that was a slab of pure formidability and muscle, triple the size of yours, brittle and brisk with natural goddess-like curvature.

The fantasies that vanquished his mind just moments before would shift to reality in just a couple more hours of leisure lectures and diligent planning for next weeks substantial events.

***

A neon, scarlet, beaming red illuminates your frame, tainting your skin with its scandalous sheen. The darkroom was secluded, a dominion for you, and you alone, as you horizontally dip one of your freshly curated photographs into the tank of polyvinyl fluid registered before you.

It was quaint— the distant clank of the air conditionings robust blast rattled the darkroom, that was small enough to encompass just a cranny of the campuses main Art colony.

It was your safe place.

The diabolical shading of the compact rooms blinding, cherry red lights was enough to submerge you in an essence of something purely pacifying, and yours to tranquilly bask in. The majority of the academy turned a blind eye to the entire photography region of your school, so the darkroom remained rather vacant and desolately lonely at times.

You hum a mellow tune, fingers coated in the creamy, transparent substance glossifying the photographs you snapped at your local German-villiage (with Mr. Barber by your side, big hand engulfing yours) only a couple days before.

Wispy baby-hairs scraggle into your face, shielding your eyes, as you work gently at the pictures you perfected. Allowing them to absorb the liquid, and the enhancing nutrients from the frivolous red LED's.

You were at peace, content just bathing in the artificial lights automatic warmth, singing off-key under your breath, swirling about the darkroom as you maneuvered from station to station; smothering the photographs in the liquid, swiveling around to clip them up to dry.

That was before the corridor screeched open, broadcasting the white, fluorescent lights from the classroom just outside the darkroom. You hiss, using your body to shield the progressing photographs as best as you can before they got exposed to the shift in brightness.

"Darling," Mr. Barber leers, voice low and mystifying, as if his tone was accommodating to the silence filtering the space. The corridor emits one final string of creaks as he cautiously latched it shut behind him.

"Mr. Barber." You whisper through the smile you start to suppress, shimmying away from him to check on the progress of your photos.

His hands clasp your hips, kneading pliantly, thumbs rolling tenderly into the dips. "Mm." He hums, a husky growl of appreciation, as his chest expands to swell into your back. The way his hulking figure towered over you was tactile; his shadow looming over you in the pool of red-tainted polyvinyl.

His wedding band chafes on the fabric of your plaited, demurring skirt, as his hands slither from the curves of your hips, up to your waist, brushing the breadth of your underboobs, then trailing back down.

His hands escape your frame, sliding beneath your underarms, bracing the edge of the scuffed-up counter. Barbing you in with his bulky arms. His colossal frame moves ethically to pin you, softly, into the counter. He slovenly kisses across your shoulder, pecking sweetly, purposely distracting you from your objective.

He suckles pliantly into the seam of your neck, groaning, teeth navigating your skin as you whimper at the graze of his teeth and subconsciously arch your back. Fingers now clammy, quivering, as you move to release them from the frigid liquid and hang them dry.

You stand on your tiptoes, to retrieve the previous batch of dried photos— Charlie's mouth follows your movements, lips delving into your neck, higher up, tongue flicking at that tender spot encompassing your earlobe. This elicits a primal squeak from you, as you wrack forward, hanging the freshly waxed photos up to dry with trembling digits.

You deliberately resume the cycle you had accustomed yourself to, starting a fifth batch. He huffs through his nostrils, as you quiver with each subtle movement, the air ghosting your pulse— creating a ripple of goosebumps that flake across your skin, a shudder surging up your arched spine.

He snickers, finger lazily brushing at a tendril of your hair, "Is my little girl happy to see me?" He murmurs gravely, a hint of amusement clinging to his dark tone.

You nod skittishly, stifling a whine, as his face lowers vehemently to your ear. He observes you from this angle, head stoically tilted, hands aimlessly peeling the drenched photographs out of your grasp.

"That was a silly question of me to ask, huh?" He croons, lips lowering to your jaw, passionately etching in a kiss on the brim. One hand abandons the counter to snake down your leg, cold wedding-ring indenting into your thigh as he gives it a pliable squeeze. "These legs are already shaking, and you haven't even looked at me yet."

At that, he whips you around, pivoting your body to face him. His hands plant back to the counter, his face hovering over yours, gaze captivating an intensity that made inclination stir and harvest in your core. He smirks, eyes penetrating through your lips.

He was doused in a devious red hue, every contour of his brooding face was blanketed in a neon-scarlet. Even the quirk of his plump lips as he smirks down at you dauntingly was painted a devilish red.

"You've been my distraction all day." He accuses sinisterly, jaw clenching, fingers ascending to level with your face. His wedding-ring ricochets the red glow, mimicking the wicked gleam in Charlie's eyes when the symbol of his infidelity reflects off of your enthralled pupils. "Now suck."

His long, stout, strong fingers wriggle in your face— without reluctance you dive for his ring and middle finger, taking them rigorously into your mouth. Your lips seal brashly around his knuckles, sucking, tongue swiping brazenly at the ring garnering his finger.

You ogle at him with wide, obliging, submissive eyes, staring him straight in the eye, as he guides his fingers through your lips.

Your tongue laps at the ring, ravenously flicking across it, easing it off of his finger leisurely. When it reaches his fingertip, you apply a final lick to the calloused pad of his finger, as his wedding ring loops around the tip of your tongue.

"Show me." He commands monotonously, sneering at you from the length of his long nose, pinching your jaw to quirk your mouth open. Your tongue shoots out to broadcast his ring, shimmering with saliva at the edge of your tongue. "Good. Now show me where it belongs."

Bewitchingly, your fingers wind up to your bottom lip, propping it open with the bare ring finger of your left hand. You tweak the ring with your tongue, using the drool that laps in the back of your throat to ease the ring down your finger, tunneling it all the way down to the ridge of your knuckle. It dangled, slick with spit, as it rests multiple sizes too large and wet around your ring finger.

"That's right." He purrs, corruptly satisfied, damp finger resting on your chin and tipping it upwards. His thumb untucks to caress your jaw bleakly. "That's a good girl..." the words rumble huskily from the depths of his chest.

You mewl, protruding into his touch that was like silk— coercing and soft— when a flicker of dull light emerged from the corner of the darkroom.

You squint your eyes to adjust to the salaciously red lighting, surveying the object that conveys a small, appending flash.

It was one of the Cameras that one of the photography students potentially misplaced or disregarded the idea of storing.

And it was recording.

He follows your bewildered gaze, a smirk instantly toying with his placated expression.

He uses his mouth to retrieve his ring back from your finger, tongue working skillfully, methodically, calmly to gather it. His hazel eyes boring through yours, deadpan, as he removes it from your finger and sucks it into his mouth. Placing it delicately back on his finger.

"Spread those legs." He orders, pointing with his saliva-slicken digits. He glances ominously at the camera, smirking. "We're gonna show my wife the way this pussy cums for me."

He scoops you off of the ground, settling your ass at the ledge of the counter, urging your legs open, spreading them for his own lecherous, greedy access. The proof of your libido was visible, even beneath the red glow, the puddle of your arousal seeping through those little cotton panties Charlie adored.

"Did you wear these for me, baby?" He husks sinisterly, caressing your wet folds through your panties, evoking a shaky whimper out of you. He fidgets with the tiny, sleek ribbon at the top of your dainty little panties, smirking. "You know how much Daddy loves these..."

"Y-yes," you admit bashfully, breathily. Nodding friskily to confirm.

His fingers twirl around the hem of your panties, securely looping them around his digits. Tediously, he pulls them down, unraveling your glistening pussy— to his gloriously smug eyes, and to the camera.

He situates them in the pocket of his crisp, suave blazer. "Show her how wet you get for me... a married man." He snarls, gripping both of your thighs, expanding them to broadcast the juices that leak from your core and drizzle shamefully upon the counter. "Let her know that nothing compares to this pretty little pussy. Let her know it belongs to me."

The tips of his ring and middle finger swirl at your entrance, teasing, easing in, and then out, lashing you with a leisure torment.

"You want me to fuck you with my fingers... hm." He coos, voice raspy and sweetly amatory, as he slides the tips in belligerently. "Tell Daddy what you want."

You clamor, bucking your hips up out of dire desperation for his touch, "I w-want you to fuck me with your f-fingers." The words squeal pathetically from your lips.

He hums gruffly, chest huffing. "What ever happened to please, daddy?" He feigns a pout, antagonizing you.

"Please, daddy!" You whine enthusiastically.

He rewards you by wisping his thumb over your needy clit, sheathing your entrance with two long, rough fingers.

You gasp, air forcefully smothering your lungs, nails clawing fraughtly at the counter as his fingers fill you to the hilt, wedding ring grating your slick walls.

He grunts, pounding his fingers into you, the squelch of his digits slamming into your dripping pussy reverberating around the room. Your moans hitch with the force of his ravenous pumps, one of your hands escaping the counter to fist his blazer raunchily.

His ring persistently catches on your folds, grazing your walls, that clench lewdly at the thought of the cold titanium being wedged into your cunt— his betrayal was the catalyst of your craving, that sent ripples of wreathing desire through every crevice of your being— for you know that despite these illicit affairs, and his disposition being owned by another woman; you were the downfall of his fidelity... and there was something empowering in revoking ones loyalty to another.

"That's right," he rasps, curling his fingers, plucking that tender spot that extorts a guttural, wanton moan out of you, your legs spasming vigorously. "My ring feels good, doesn't it. It feels good to know that even a married man would play with this tight little cunt."

The tub of polyvinyl-liquid rattles and splurges around, as you jiggle the table with the rocks of your hips, meeting the deep, ravenous thrusts of his fingers.

"Yes, fuck, yes." You groan croakily, nearly frothing at his words, fluttering eyes reeling to the back of your head— ascending to your peak, brinking on the edge of ecstasy.

He shreds his fingers from your blazing core; you choke on a cracked sob of defeat, jaw slacking as you mewl meekly. His digits glisten with your juices, as he takes them into his mouth, sucking them dry of your creamy slick.

"Now. Let's show her how well you take Daddy's big cock, hm?"

He lurches you off of the counter, briskly wreathing you off, hauling you to the opposite side of the room— slamming your face into the rigidity table, squished only a couple of feet away from the still-rolling camera. The little red light blinking haphazardly to indicate it was catching every moan, and cry, and whimper that crawls up your throat. Your eyes bore through the lens with a quiver of desperation.

His fingers thread through your hair, wrenching your head back, molding your back into a subsequent arch. Ass grinding back into the bulge that tints through the dress-pants he was cladding.

"You're not the only one who loves this..." he murmurs gravelly, "Do you feel what you do to me, little girl?"

He prods his bulge into your ass, stroking it against your wet cunt, his belt-buckle dragging across your tingling slit. You stifle a whine.

His free hand works methodically at his belt, flawlessly unclasping the buckle, tearing it off of his waist. He unzips his pants, and caresses your back with the leather, trailing all the way up to the back of your neck. You stiffen, when he loops the belt around your throat— cinching it in the back, clasping it, keeping it loose enough to not restrict your airflow.

He fists the end, giving you a sharp, aggressive jerk backwards. Your chin cranes automatically, a scraggly little moan fleeing your lips, hands planting to the cold surface of the random desk.

Every muscle in your body strains when his cock sheathes your cunt, stuffing you full with his dangerous length, easing in through the slick that coats your already clenching walls.

Both of you emit salacious, breathy groans, your features scrunching together in pure pleasure at the elating pain of his big cock expanding your walls, stretching to take every inch of his girth.

"Fuck," he hisses, pumping his hips into your ass savagely, cock plunging into your pussy, railing you into the table. "This pussy's so wet."

His tip nearly reached your cervix, dick thrusting ravenously, as if the whole objective was to plow you through the creaky desk.

"Oh my god, Charlie," you gurgle pleadingly, gasping, eyes rolling back, cheeks famished with your appending high, lips parted.

He prominently strokes your sweet spots with his cock, constantly hitting you in all the most rigorous places. The fap of his dick spearing through you resounds; loud, slushy, delicious.

"I-I'm gonna cum, Mr. Barber!" You squeal, voice hoarse and strained, as you harbor your breath in your lungs, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Do it... show her how you cum for me baby, come on." He heaves, hand slithering down your front to spread your folds, fingers rubbing swiftly at your clit. "Cum on this cock."

The humidity surfacing around the compact space flushes your cheeks, whipping them with a ferocious heat, breaths wheezing out and moans hiccuping purely from your stomach. Your body convulses as you milk his cock, squeezing his dick, wringing out every last drop of his cum.

His chest slams into your back, hands pinning to the table around your frame, pants ricocheting into your ear. You were completely spent beneath him; drool tumbling from your lips, lapping your cheek to the desk. Mascara clumping all over your cheeks, smudged and streaked. Sweat greasing your forehead.

He slips out of you, tucking himself away quaintly, both of you recovering from your climaxes. He examines the indentations that the belt had embed into your neck, before securing the belt around your throat, leaving it gripping your pulse tightly.

"I want you to walk out of this room just... like... this..." he murmurs haphazardly, adjusting the belt on you, eyeing every disheveled part of you; from your dripping, bare, ransacked pussy, that the hem of your short skirt barely concealed, to your bunched up knee socks, to the leather that garners your throat.

His eyes flicker to the camera, and he smiles a wicked, pearly grin. "Come here, little one." He directs, hoisting you from the table, bending you over the crook of his elbow like you were a ragdoll easy to be mobilized. He flashes the camera your ass, spreading your cheeks, to showcase the creamy mess he had made of your pussy— still leaking his seed, drizzling it down your thighs.

He aids you in ascending fully to your feet, rubbing your arms in alleviation, helping you stand as your knees threaten to buckle. He strokes your chin with his thumb, smiling at you, radiating a riveting pride.

"I'll take care of all of this," his eyes rake over the pictures you were in the midst of soaking before he interrupted, "All you need to do is leave this room just like this... and let everyone know who you belong to."

[ecoamerica]

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[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

The Voyage So Far: Dressrosa (Part Two)

east blue (1 | 2) || alabasta (1 | 2) || skypiea || water 7 || enies lobby || thriller bark || paramount war (1 | 2) || fishman island || punk hazard || dressrosa (1 | 2) || || whole cake island || wano (1 | 2)

wild how this is upwards of 750 chapters in and yet i still get a big dumb smile whenever luffy declares he’s going to be king of the pirates. one piece is a series very much driven by its main characters and their goals and dreams- i don’t think it would be nearly as good if the main character was anyone but monkey d. luffy. 

personally, i always just feel kind of proud whenever he says this, because- yeah!! he is!! that’s luffy, he’s going to be king of the pirates, and we’ve known that since day fucking one. 

i really think there’s something to be said about usopp never taking credit for saving luffy and law from sugar. it’s arguably his greatest feat in the entire series thus far- an impossible, perfect shot across an entire country, with an angry mob inches from his back- and he never even tells anybody he did it. he’s come a long way from someone who tells tall tales about heroic acts he never did to someone who doesn’t even feel the need to take credit for ones he really did, so long as his friends are safe.

i really like how corazon’s introduction and characterization throughout the flashback is handled. at the start of law’s flashback, we know a few things about him already: that he’s someone law loved very much, and that he was killed by doflamingo. we know how this ends. 

but then cora is introduced as a clumsy mute weirdo who nearly kills law as one of the very first things he does, and we as the audience aren’t really sure how to reconcile that- and then the rest of the flashback is us, along with law, slowly discovering what a complicated and contradictory but ultimately good person he is. something very similar happens with the asl flashback- we know the endpoint of luffy and ace’s relationship, but the flashback is all about how they got there, from attempted murder to willing self-sacrifice. 

i think it’s really cool the way law and doflamingo’s backstories are layered together. they’re characters who exist with a lot of parallels and similarities between them already, which is something they’re both clearly aware of- i’ve mentioned before i think the only real difference between them is that law got corazon where doflamingo got the executives- and presenting their backstories simultaneously only makes that more obvious. 

i’ve always found it so interesting that we get what’s pretty much our only substantial exposition about the will of d direct from a former celestial dragon. it makes sense- cora’s basically the only character we’ve met who both has this information and is willing to share it-  but i don’t know, there’s something that feels very poetic to me about him having this information that’s clearly been suppressed and hidden by the dragons and willingly choosing to share it in order to help protect law, a D, who should technically be the very enemy he was once taught to hate and fear. 

i really like corazon. 

it fucks me up that we can tell the exact moment cora dies from the moment law starts making noise again. 

this might be a controversial take? i’m not sure. but i like baby five. i think her and sai’s relationship is really sweet, and people might complain about her getting off easy or whatever but i’m honestly glad she gets a happy ending after being thoroughly emotionally abused and broken her entire life. and on a lighter note, she’s also just a fun character to watch through the whole arc- the running gag with her crying whenever law glares at her is still one of my favorites in the whole series. 

the shot of robin’s bloody back is a favorite of mine, because it’s a reveal that doesn’t get lingered on at all, and yet at once it gives the entire proceeding scene a lot more weight when we understand just how much pain she must’ve been in the entire time. and yet she never even flinched or faltered while protecting rebecca. nico robin is very, very strong. 

there’s something so deliciously fitting about diamante’s final fall ending with him cracking his head on scarlett’s grave, and something so lovely about kyros and rebecca finally getting their proper reunion there, when neither of them ever really got a chance to mourn.

law’s line about the strawhats trailing nothing but miracles in their wake is one of the first ones i always think of when i think about the strawhats in general and luffy in particular, mostly because it’s so true. from the very beginning, the strawhats have been doing the impossible, from sailing to the sky to breaking in and out of the world’s greatest prison, and law saw that and staked all his hopes on it and they did not let him down. 

also i think it’s very cool of law to, when held at gunpoint and down an arm, grin, flip doflamingo off, and tell him to eat shit and that luffy is going to kick his ass. love that for him.

i think dressrosa does a very good job of making the victory against doflamingo equally law’s and luffy’s. they cooperate and trade off fighting him throughout the arc to great effect, and i think it’s pretty clear that neither of them could have tackled the massive challenge of dressrosa alone. 

while the final fight is luffy’s, it’s made clear that that’s only after law’s done absolutely everything he could and spent the majority of the arc distracting doflamingo, keeping him occupied, and even fucking shredding his insides with pure radiation before finally needing to tap out. i think it’s a good balance, given that luffy is the protagonist but law’s grudge against doflamingo is the driving force behind the entire arc. 

conqueror’s haki clashes are always very cool, pretty much regardless of who or where or why, but the one between luffy and doflamingo is a favorite. 

one of the things that’s always impressed me about one piece in comparison to other shounen series is how it handles its powerscaling- in that it does it well with a gradual increase and villains who vary widely in strength instead of every arc necessarily needing to be bigger and better than the last- and i think the way it handles powering up the main characters is a big part of that. 

through the entirety of one piece thus far, i’d say luffy has had three major power-ups- second and third gear in enies lobby, haki at the timeskip, and gear four here in dressrosa (an argument could also be made for ryuuou in wano, but i think that’s less major than these others). this helps prevent runaway powerscaling and also makes new power-ups feel like a genuine event, which i really like. 

i once referred to luffy as ‘hopebringer’ in a conversation with friends, and it’s a descriptor for him i think sums up really well how he manages to save so many people while insistently not being a hero. luffy inspires people, inspires whole countries, starting all the way back with coby in romance dawn. it’s one of the reasons i think it’s fitting how thoroughly he’s associated with the dawn. 

doflamingo is very, very scary. which is interesting, because he’s indisputably less powerful someone like kaidou, but at the same time i find him a much scarier villain, and i think it comes down to doflamingo’s gleeful, wanton cruelty. not that kaidou is in any way shape or form a nice person, but our first introduction to doflamingo is him forcing marines to attack each other just because he’s a little bored. he hurts people just because he can, and finds it funny. 

relating to my earlier comment about hope, i really like how the whole country comes together at the end to cheer luffy on and count down to his return. it makes it feel all the more triumphant when it does, especially for the citizens of dressrosa who’ve been suffocating under doflamingo’s rule for years and can finally, finally see freedom.

other people have put a lot more thought of the symbolism of doflamingo’s eyes and glasses than i intend to, but i’ll settle for saying that it’s the breaking of the glasses, before anything else, before the birdcage even vanishes from the sky and everyone is safe, that shows us that, at long last, doflamingo is well and truly defeated. his glasses break, and so does his power. 

i’ve written a longer post about it before (here) but it’s a recurring motif that one piece’s worst villains are those that steal people’s freedom, including, in the cruelest cases, the freedom to express their emotions openly. we see it with koala and the celestial dragons, with the failed smile fruits in wano, and here, too, with kyros. and, much like koala, triumph for him means finally being able to cry. 

i mentioned it back in the first post, but i’m so, so happy rebecca and kyros get the happy ending they deserve. they’ve both been fighting a war that they never should have had to for years and years, and they both deserve to get to just live, now, peaceful and quiet and together and surrounded by flowers. 

i really dig the note dressrosa ends on. it’s happy, of course, obviously, with the liberation of the country, kyros and rebecca’s happy ending, the creation of the grand fleet, even law getting some degree of closure through his talk with sengoku, but it also leaves this massive, gaping question- what now? 

in a way, doflamingo’s speech here follows up on law’s new era speech from punk hazard. luffy and law have just thrown a major wrench into the delicate power equilibrium of the entire new world, and we have all these characters out there who might be affected, who might want to take advantage, who might try to seize the throne. 

[starlightrows]

The Lady’s Guards

Pairing: Boba Fett x reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Mild blood and injury, some hurt/comfort, lots of domestic bliss and fluff, I really just like writing Boba with a feisty little wifey

Summary: Din brings Grogu to visit you and Boba on Tatooine, but you run into some trouble when you try to take him out for a day of shopping

AN: Lots of people really seemed to like my OC’s Tems and Rhys, so I wanted to write a little more with them! This can be read as a stand alone or a part 2 to The Lady of the House

You return to bed but find that you’re no longer tired enough to fall back to sleep. Instead you just enjoy the warmth of Boba’s skin and the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. When you can’t stand to lay still any longer you shift carefully out of his embrace and slip out of bed.

It’s not often you’re awake before him so you take advantage of this rarity. You put your robe back on, and sneak out of your chambers heading down to the kitchens. The maids are scurrying about preparing breakfast, and prepping for the larger more substantial meals later in the day.

“Good morning,” you call out softly from the top of the stairs. Everyone stops what they’re doing and turns quickly to address you. A small chorus of “my lady” and “good morning”’s greet you as you descend the stairs.

“I was hoping to help make breakfast and serve it to my husband in our chambers this morning if that’s alright,” you smile. You’re welcomed into the kitchens and allowed to help as one of the maids makes the batter for hot cakes. When the cakes have finished baking, you garnish the tray with fresh fruit, and fresh brewed caf.

Fearing for your ability to carry all of this food, you recruit one of the maids just to help you carry everything up to your chambers, and thank her for her excellent help before dismissing her and pushing through the doors.

Much to your delight Boba is still asleep when you come in. So you have time to set the table with the hot cakes and caf before climbing back onto the bed to kiss him awake. When he’s roused enough, he returns your kisses and mumbles out a good morning.

“Made you breakfast,” you nip at his cheek “and hot caf”

“Hmm, you made it?” He asks, sitting up a bit to glance over your shoulder at the table, laid out with breakfast as promised.

“Mhm, woke up a bit early, decided I wanted to spoil you my love,” you tug at his arm, pulling him with you to get out of bed. He indulges you, sitting at the table and accepting the plate full of hot cakes and more importantly the steaming up of caf.

Over breakfast you recount the events of last night, about the guards alerting you to the intrusion, the alarm on his ship, and Din hailing over the coms.

“Hmm, did he hail twice?” Boba asks draining his mug of caf

“No, just the one as far as I know” you reply, using your finger to collect a drop of sweet syrup from the hot cakes and licking it off.

“Then it’s not an emergency. Would you mind returning the com after we’re finished here? I’ll see to the intruder,” he places his plate back on the tray and reaches for the bowl of fruit. You’ve just about finished your breakfast and stack your plate as well.

“Of course darling,” you answer, kissing his head as you pass behind him to pick out something to wear for the day.

“Which guards should I see about the intruder?” He asks abandoning the fruit bowl in favor of following you to get himself ready as well.

“Oh, sorry my love, I’ve been sworn to secrecy on that matter,” you throw him a teasing look as you hold up one of your more comfortable day dresses, while he begins putting on his own robes for the day. You glance in the full length mirror, deciding that this was indeed what you wanted to wear today.

This pulls him up short, and he gives you a quizzical look. There are no secrets between the two of you, at least, not like this.

“Keeping secrets from the King of Tatootine my lady? That’s a dangerous game to play,” he’s only half dressed himself but he stops to watch you undress, and struggle with the front fastenings on your day dress.

“I’m well aware, my love but nevertheless, I gave them my word. Just go down to the dungeon and ask the guards on duty to see the one and only prisoner we currently have,” you walk towards him, and throw up your hands begging for his help to secure the ties. He didn’t expect you to hold firm on your secret, he honestly thought you’d been joking the first time.

He takes the ties and knots them properly with his surprisingly nimble fingers “Cyare, why can’t you tell me?”

“They asked me very specifically not to tell you,” you shrug. His hands still over your hips when he’s finished, holding you in place.

“Why?”

You laugh placing your hands over his and removing them gently, so he can get ready too “My darling, even your staff are intimidated by you. The pair of them were absolutely terrified you’d tear their limbs off and feed them to the rankor if you found out they entered our chambers,”

“I pay them to alert me to security breaches!” He grumbles pulling on his tunic, and beginning to secure his armor in place with your assistance.

“That’s what I told them. Promised them you wouldn’t be angry. They wouldn’t hear it, practically begged me on their knees to keep quiet about it,” you shake your head, securing his vambrace on.

“Better to be feared than loved,” he gripes, you lean up on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek.

“Hmmm... lucky you are both feared and loved,” you smile sweetly. He grins, catching your chin between his fingers and tilting your head to kiss your lips. Tasting the remains of the sweet syrup you’d spread over your hot cakes.

Later while Boba is seeing people on business, you take the time to sit down and hail Din over the coms. He answers after a minute or so of waiting and switches on the hologram function. A massive black eye comes into the viewfinder.

“Too close ad’ika,” Din pulls Grogu away from the camera, and places him in his lap as he sits down. Grogu waves, seeing your face on his end of the screen.

You wave back and smile brightly, “Hello my little green bean!” You coo

“Sorry about last night,” Din says sheepishly “Forgot about the daylight difference between Tatooine and Mandalore. I hope I didn’t wake you guys up or anything,”

You wave him off good naturedly. “Oh don’t worry about that. I was just worried something was wrong,” you say, lightly prompting him to explain the reason for his late night call.

“Nothing is wrong, really. I just have a couple things I need to talk to Fett about. And I was hoping to bring Grogu for a visit in a couple rotations,” he admits

“Absolutely! I’ll have to check with the big man, but I’m quite sure none of his appointments for the next couple days are urgent enough to take president over a visit from the Mand’alor,” you joke

“Well let me know if he says otherwise, but we’ll be there in two days time,” Din tells you, taking Grogu’s little hand and manually waving it at you.

“Will do. Bye baby! I’ll see you soon,” you give Grogu a little wave before shutting off the com.

Boba has no objection to Din and Grogu coming for a visit, and he delights in your enthusiasm to spend time (and spoil) your nephew. And in two days' time, they arrive on Tatooine as promised.

Immediately you confiscate Grogu from Din, and whisk him away to play and explore the palace, leaving Boba and Din to talk business and catch up.

The second day of their visit you ask Din if he would mind if you took Grogu out of the palace and down into the city for a day of shopping and fresh air. Din doesn’t seem to mind, trusting you wholeheartedly. But Boba insists you take guards for your safety as well as Grogu’s. It’s a small measure to ask and not an unfounded request given the type of people that still hang around Mos Eisley, so you accept his request.

“Why did it have to be us?” Tems moans as Rhys starts up the land speeder.

“You’re not even a little excited? The Lady chose us herself! That means she likes us!” Rhys says “Plus we get to drive the boss’s speeder. Tell me you aren’t at least a little excited about that,”

Tems actually is kind of excited, it’s a really nice speeder. But it does not outshine how nervous he is at the thought of being responsible for the safety of not only Boba Fett’s feisty, headstrong little queen, but also the son of The Mand’alor.

“We just have to be careful Rhys. The safety of the Lady and the child is way more important than a cool speeder,” Tems says sliding into the passenger seat. Rhys brings the speeder around to the front to the palace.

“I know that,” Rhys snips at him, coming to a stop at the palace door where you wait with Boba. Tems gets out of the speeder and holds the door open for you. You quickly press your forehead against Boba’s helmet and slide into the speeder, holding Grogu close in a wrapped silk scarf against your chest.

Tems gets back in the passenger seat, and the speeder pulls away from the palace. The trip down into the city doesn’t take very long, and thank goodness for that because Rhys is having a hard time holding his tongue. He wants to ask you a thousand questions. Instead he places all of his focus on driving carefully, listening to you softly speak to the child.

Upon arriving, Tems gets out and opens the door for you again. Tems and Rhys follow behind you at a respectful distance as you Grogu to various stalls and booths at the open air market. Making pleasant conversation with the merchants, buying Grogu snacks and little gifts he shows interest in, splurging on a few items for yourself as well.

As the afternoon goes on, Tems notices more eyes than usual trained on you as you walk from stall to stall. Eyes with ill intent. Something feels wrong, and it’s not just his anxiety. He nudges Rhys and gives him a look. He senses it too, all semblance of the distractible and energetic man he’s used to attempting to corral is gone. Replaced by a headset face, and a firm hand on his blaster.

“My lady,” Rhys addresses you directly. You’re in the middle chatting with a merchant over a purchase, you turn and smile at your guard.

“Yes?”

“My lady, we need to-” he doesn’t have a chance to finish his statement. A shrill cry of a man jumping out from behind a booth wall brandishing a vibroblade towards you cuts him off. Rhys pushes you down, shielding your body with his. While Tems tackles the man to the ground.

You don’t see the exchange, Rhys makes sure of that. He drags you off the floor behind the counter with the shopkeeper, who is cowering in fear. Grogu is whimpering and clinging to the front of your tunic, you hold him securely and try to murmur comforting words to him. You take great care to cover his massive ears, the sounds of your assailant and bodyguard fighting one another fill the tiny stall.

Onlookers in the market either flee screaming, or crowd in to watch. Rhys placed himself between you and fighting. Finally the sounds of the fighting stop, there is nothing besides Grogu’s sobs and the heavy breathing of the victor of the fight.

Rhys gives your shoulder a gentle shake. You look up at him and find his face comforting but stern. “I’m sorry my lady, but we must get you back to the palace,” he takes your arm and pulls you off the ground “now”

Rhys draws his blaster keeping it ready in case it’s needed. You look to see Tems standing at the entrance to the merchant stall, splattered in blood and shouting for the crowd to get back.

“Watch your step, my lady,” Rhys says, tugging you away from the body of your would-be attacker. You draw Grogu in a little closer, and make a point to step around the body.

The pair of them hustle you out of the market, shouting for people to get out of the way and making a show aiming their blasters at anyone that dared get too close.

The speeder trip back to the palace does not take long, Tems looks back on you and asks if you’re injured. You shake your head, and continue trying to comfort Grogu, who’s no longer crying but whimpering pitifully and unwilling to be detached from you in any way.

When the speeder pulls up to the palace both guards disembark and escort you down into the throne room, regardless of whatever business is transpiring down there. The guards on duty seem to realize you will not be kept from the throne room when they see you dirtied and disheveled, escorted by equally disheveled and bloodied guards; they let you pass without question.

The throne room has more than a few guests discussing trade and wage with Boba and Din, with Fennec providing on site security. At the sound of your foot steps descending the stairs, Boba looks up and takes in your frightful appearance.

“Get out, all of you,” Boba’s voice is sharp and clear. The other occupants of the room seem to hesitate, also caught up in the shock of seeing the queen looking so battered.

“That wasn’t a suggestion, leave” Fennec bashes the hilt of her blaster into the duracreet, making a resounding noise that jolts Boba’s guests out of their stupor. They all scramble to disperse, exiting the throne room as quickly as possible.

You quickly move deeper into the throne room, and extend Grogu to Din who’s approaching you anxiously with Boba at his heels. Grogu goes to his fathers arms without complaint and seems to settle almost immediately once he’s placed against Din’s shoulder.

“Take care of your son,” Boba says as carefully as he can manage. Din only nods and disappears down another hallway leading to guest rooms. Boba’s hand jute out, grabbing your chin and tilting your face from side to side checking you for wounds physical or otherwise. Your hand closes over his wrist, and you give him a squeeze and a nod. “Come cyare,” he whispers to you, leading you away from the throne room.

Tems and Rhys have been standing at attention the entire duration of this exchange. When you and Boba leave, they relax slightly. Rhys is ready to bolt, Tems is ready to wretch. But Fennec keeps them rooted on the spot.

“He will be back,” she says “and he’s going to want answers that are clear and to the point. Do you understand?”

They nod.

In your chambers Boba rips off his helmet and frantically checks you again for injuries. Needing to see with his own eyes. You assure him up and down that you’re perfectly fine thanks to your guards.

“What happened cyare?” He asks, holding you close despite your dusty clothes tainting his clean ones. You recount the story to the best of your ability, but you admit he would probably get more useful information from your guards.

“They saved my life,” you say honestly “and Grogu’s too. They’re good men, and they deserve our gratitude,”

Boba draws you in closer still and rests his head on top of yours. He’s reluctant to even let you out of his embrace, but you pull away.

“Go speak to them my love. I’m safe in these walls. I promise you, I won’t leave our chambers until you come back,” you tell him, cradling his handsome face in your hands. It bothers him how unphased you seem to be, though he knows you rather well, and can recognize that this will be something you process and need help with later on.

Eventually Boba does leave you so you can run a bath and get yourself cleaned up, and he can go get the full story from your guards. Fennec has perched herself on a high stool that sits behind Boba’s throne. A vantage point for her to survey the room. Meanwhile Tems and Rhys have been wringing their hands and coming down from their adrenaline highs.

“We saved the lady,” Rhys mumbled under his breath, excited once more but teeming with nerves. This is worse than the other night, when your eyes pierced his soul and scared the daylight out of him.

“We almost got Lady and the Mand’alor’s son killed in one afternoon” Tems couldn’t help his pacing back and forth across the sandy floor. His clothes were hot and sticky covered in the blood of the man he had killed. And he would gladly do it again for the good queen.

Boba’s presence reappearing in the throne room reignited both Tems and Rhys anxiety and adrenaline responses. But they stood at attention and awaited their fate with knocking knees and chattering teeth.

Boba surveyed the two men. Both strong capable young men, though one had definitely worked here longer. Something seemed familiar about these two, something Boba couldn’t place, though he had a suspicion there was a reason his wife had chosen these two particular guards to escort her down to the market.

Boba sits heavily on his throne, clears his throat and beckons them forward.

“You’ve defended my palace, protected my beloved wife and nephew, and served me well. You both have my gratitude and my respect. Any reward you desire, name it and it’s yours” Boba says “All I ask of you now it the truth. Tell me what happened today,”

At first neither man speaks. Tems finally breaks the silence, but can not find it himself to look Boba in the eye.

“In the market today. I noticed a man following us. He went into a secluded market stall carrying wares the lady seemed interested in. He tried to attack the lady with a vibroblade. I killed this man,” Tems says “It’s been a long time since Tatooine was ruled by a fair and just hand, my Lord. I have lived here since the Hutts ruled the Dune Sea and promoted the slave trade. I am honored to serve you and your worthy cause my lord. I ask for no other reward”

Boba nods, and casts his gaze over to the younger man.

“If I may sir. I took your wife and nephew to safety while my partner dispatched the attacker. I would have willingly given my life to save theirs,” Rhys bows his head in respect, but looks up again to ask his favor “If you are willing to offer a reward for what happened today, I only have one request. I have a younger sister, Talece. She’s smart and responsible, but struggles to find work due to her inability to speak. I humbly ask for her to have a place in your palace. She can cook, clean, serve in whatever way you ask of her, my lord”

Tems shifts his eyes over to his friend. He didn’t know Rhys had a mute sister, or a sister at all. He’d have to ask about it later.

“I’m sure my wife can find use for another maid, bring her tomorrow. If the lady of the house has a need for her, then she is welcome to stay,” Boba nods. He looks back to Tems but addresses them both “Your service and dedication today will not be forgotten. But for now, you are both dismissed and relieved of your duties for the rest of today,”

Tems and Rhys bow low and thank Boba Fett for his generosity, before scurrying away to get clean and unwind from this whole ordeal.

Boba dismisses Fennec as well and tells her to cancel all of his remaining appointments for the rest of the day. He goes back to you in your chambers to find you clean, wrapped in a dressing gown and drying your hair while sitting on the bed.

He removes his armor at record breaking speed, and climbs onto the bed pulling you down with him regardless of your wet hair.

“I suspect I’ve discovered which of the guards came into our room the other night,” he says, stroking your arm. You nod, there’s no point in lying to him about it if he’s already figured it out.

“I like them,” you say “They’re good guards, and good men,”

“The younger one. He’s got a sister, asked me to give her a job,” he tells you

“And?”

“And you’ve got a new handmaiden if you’d like. If not she can join the kitchen staff,” he continues stroking your arm. At this you pull away from him a bit and prop yourself up on his chest to stare down at him. Meeting his deliciously dark eyes.

“For all the fear you strike in the hearts of others, you do seem to have a tender heart underneath your glare and beskar,” you tease him, dropping your head down to kiss his lips

[feeling-weirdy]

**my scarletvision master list**

A giant list of all the drabbles I have written in chronological order for anyone who would like to read from start to finish.  If people are interested in becoming notified whenever I post something, please follow my AO3. 

Please feel free to send in prompts for anything you would like to see added to this list. 

Age of Ultron to Civil War

A Thing Isn’t Beautiful Because... - prompt; “right before or after Vision saves Wanda”; Overwhelmed with emotions, Wanda is filled with grief by the loss of her brother.  Vision tries to help her figure out a way to deal with the loss.

Uncertain, yet Intentional - prompt; The moment before his ‘I did intend to come in here’ line in episode 8 of WV

Silent Tears - prompt; Wanda really lets herself cry for the first time since Pietro’s death and Vision does his best to comfort her.

Unpleasant Dreams - prompt; Wanda has a nightmare and Vision goes in to check on her to see if she’s alright.

Do Better - prompt;  Vision is unable to save everyone in a disaster which helps him learn a very hard lesson.

Never Again - prompt;  Wanda POV; Vision and Wanda watch sitcoms and Wanda gets distracted

Bugging Out - prompt; “Holy fucking guacamole!”; A routine update goes awry.

Vis, We Talked About This - prompt; “Viz, we talked about this”; Vision tries to distract Wanda without seeming too pushy.

Your Electrifying Touch - Wanda POV; Unable to keep her thoughts contained, Wanda slips up but has to find a way to keep herself back on track.

An Unexpected Surprise - prompt; Vision comes home from a tough mission to find Wanda curled up in his bed.

Practice Makes Perfect - prompt; Vision and Wanda practice in an attempt to help get Wanda’s powers under control.

Dancing Out of Tune - prompt; Vision walks in on Wanda listening to Pietro’s favorite genre and throws him off guard.

Striking Thirteen - prompt; a moment where feelings develop; Wanda can’t seem to fall asleep and looks to Vision for help.

Happy Birthday...? - prompt; Vision gets a present from Wanda for his first "birthday"

Neverending Flow - prompt; Wanda gets a nosebleed

While No One is Watching - prompt; The gang starts dancing, but disappears once uncomfortableness starts to set in once the android and witch start to get close to one another.

Heart Over Duty - prompt; What else makes Vision cry?

Overrated - prompt; “I always thought Mr Darcy was overrated”; Vision’s feelings can no longer be kept to himself.  A novel Wanda suggests causes him to blurt out his confession.

Freezing Circuits - prompt; “Vision tries ice cream” 

An Accidental Moment - prompt; pre CW; While watching television together, Wanda initiates the next step in their relationship.

Civil War to Infinity War

Safe and Sound - prompt; songfic for Safe and Sound; After the destruction in Lagos, Wanda breaks down, leaving Vision to console her the best that he can. 

Distraction - prompt; Wanda POV; Wanda is overwhelmed by the Accords and is desperate for something else to focus on.  Vision is happy to oblige.

A Step Too Far - prompt; Vision offers pizza and an explanation for his actions in trying to keep Wanda safe inside the compound.

After the Storm - prompt; Vision arrives to see Wanda for the first time after the aftermath. 

The Little Green Monster - prompt; Vision becomes jealous of someone flirting with Wanda.

A Spark of Light - prompt; “we could be like sparks of light”; Vision attempts to talk Wanda into extending their little walks to something more substantial.

Can I Change Your Mind? - Vision is unable to tell Wanda goodbye and tries to get her to stay with him.

Three’s a Crowd - prompt; “love triangle between Vis, Wanda and Clint” 

Chicken Soup for the Soul - prompt; Wanda gets sick and Vision helps take care of her

And Life Will Always Be... - Wanda POV; Excited to meet up with Vision again, Wanda enters the hotel room hoping to get a head start but finds her plans are pushed to an instant halt.

Between the Lines - prompt; “that was an innuendo, wasn’t it?”; Vision struggles to understand why Wanda is acting so strangely.

Look My Way - Wanda POV; Tired of spending the afternoon alone, Wanda takes things into her own hands.

Cappuccino or Latte - prompt; “what’s the actual difference between a cappuccino and a latte?”; Vision attempts to make coffee despite his disadvantages.

Short and Sweet - Vision can no longer keep himself back from kissing Wanda.

All to Myself - prompt; Vision jealous of Wanda and Cap America’s friendship; The distance they have created has finally brought Vision to a breaking point.

Getting Caught - prompt;  Wanda and Vision get caught coming home late

Not Ostentatious, but True - prompt; “my love isn’t ostentatious, but it doesn’t make it any less true”; Vision becomes jealous of how others profess their love and he does his best to explain himself.

Purrfectly Happy - prompt; The first time Vision ever sees a cat 

By the River - prompt; UK shenanigans; Vision uses an anniversary as an excuse to create a new memory with something they had never tried before.

That One Thing - prompt; Vision and Wanda discuss their future.

To Grow Old In, V - Vision worries about whether or not his next move is too grand, but is determined to move to the next step regardless.

One Last Moment - prompt; “one last moment”; Vision and Wanda talk about their options should Wakanda fail to disconnect the Mind Stone.

Wandavision sitcom AU

Love Me Tender - Vision tries to make a special night for Wanda, hoping to make up for the Mr. Hart fiasco.

Support - prompt; Vision offers his assistance as Wanda struggles with her pregnancy.

Cravings - prompt; Wanda’s weird pregnancy cravings; Vision struggles in the kitchen while trying to keep up with her cravings.

Perfectly Molded - Wanda POV; prompt; Vision wearing gray sweatpants.  That’s pretty much it.

Back to Bed - A pregnant Wanda is sick and Vision struggles to take care of her.

Prenatal Upset - prompt; A pregnant Wanda doesn’t feel sexy and Vision is more than happy to prove otherwise. 

Melting in the Rain - prompt;  Wanda goes into labor and is cool as a cucumber leaving Vision to panic alone.

Nerves of Steel - prompt; Vision gets so caught up in himself that he phases through a piece of furniture and doesn’t even notice 

Painting for Mom - prompt; sweet dad!Vision moment; The boys craft gifts for Mother’s Day.

Yellow Brick Road - prompt; Vision and Wanda help the boys go Trick-or-Treating

The End of the Road - prompt; part 2 to Yellow Brick Road

Movie Night: Titanic - prompt; the family watching Titanic

Peace and Quiet Shattered - prompt; The twins attempt to make a little robot and are having trouble until Vision steps in and fixes it with ease.

Halloween Spooks - prompt; Vision getting scared by Halloween animatronics

Unable to Compute - prompt; Tommy and Billy do something stupid and Vision has a hard time understanding why

post Wandavision

A World Without Color - A series of prompts following White!Vision as he learns more about who he was so that he can move forward.

post Infinity War AU

Make it Real -  A series of one-shots, and possible story, following the traumatic events of Infinity War in an alternate universe where Wanda and Vision are alive and traumatized.

Random AUs

Bidding for Attention -  Tony has a bachelor auction and Hope Van Dyne bids on Vision to upset her dad for fun and then Hope and Vision hit it off and keep hanging out which makes Wanda realize her feelings for him have changed.

Pt 1

[blueburds-but-swtor]

The Path Ahead; part 4

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Finally giving Altrethir and Ashara more well-deserved time together! I had fun with this chapter and spent a little extra time tweaking it. Hope yall like it <3

“I sense your uneasiness, Altrethir,” said Ashara, breaking the silence of their meditation. As he gave her no immediate reply, she took the opportunity to pry further. “You didn’t just ask me to join you for meditation.”

“You are correct,” Altrethir murmured as his eyes slowly opened. “This was our only means to get away from the base without drawing suspicion.”

Ashara’s brows furrowed, “Suspicion?”

“I would like to hear your thoughts on a concerning matter.”

“If it’s whatever’s troubling you, then absolutely.”

Altrethir exhaled a deep sigh from his nose, shifting atop his knees. “The traitor within our ranks: I have them narrowed down to a small list of individuals.”

“You must have been working hard. It’s been less than a week since the whole incident on Iokath.”

“I have spent every free moment of my time investigating.” All things considered, it was quite obvious who this traitor was. Still Altrethir’s gut churned with every piece of evidence he collected.

“Who’ve you narrowed it down to?” Ashara asked.

“The only individuals who were directly involved with the superweapon scheme: Empress Acina, Lana, and Theron.”

“Acina has a history of being deceitful and manipulative. It’s got to be her.” Ashara then gestured to him, “Maybe Thexia isn’t the ally she preferred. Her loyalty to the Empire was put into question in the past, but yours never was.”

“You suggest that Thexia has grown to be too much of a wild card for Acina’s own comfort?”

“In a sense.”

“I do not believe loyalty is what concerns the Empress, rather, she seeks powerful allies. Allies who both benefit from a mutual goal, not particularly loyal to one another. Thexia and I both hold substantial amounts of power; physically and figuratively. Eliminating one of us would have no benefit to her, nor the Empire.” Altrethir glanced to his friend, her brows furrowed and lips pressed thinly in thought. “The reason for this incident,” he continued, “I believe goes beyond mere faction wars.

“You understand that this matter was only to be kept between Thexia, Lana and Theron, but Theron enlightened me of the situation regardless. Thus, I have only received his end of the story. He claimed to have been fixing a power cable in the eastern hallway at the time of the attack.”  

Altrethir retrieved his holodevice and produced an image. Ashara looked to it, observing the angles as it slowly spun. “The power cable in question,” Altrethir elaborated, “claimed to have been damaged by the droids. It has been sliced through with a blade.”

“What type of weapons did the droids use?” Ashara said, catching on.

“Vibroknives, conveniently. But the width and depth of the cuts are what caught my attention.” Altrethir then opened his backpack and pulled out a vibroknife. “Taken from one of the droids in the control room. I inspected every one of their knives, concluding that they were all identical. The blades are long and thin,” he traced the blunt end of the knife with his finger for emphasis, “but the cuts are short and wider.”

Ashara observed the knife and the holo image. Granted, it was difficult to truly determine the damage from a mere image. “So one of the droids didn’t damage the cable. It was the assassin, then? They were trying to create a distraction to draw Theron out?”

“In some manner, yes. Contrary to Theron’s claims, the droids were not the ones who destroyed the cables. That much is true. I also investigated the superweapon’s systems—as much as I could, anyway. I had difficulty sifting through the fried circuits, but I digress.” Altrethir then pulled out his datapad and scrolled through his notes. “The coding the droids of Iokath use follow its own self-created programing. Thankfully, SCORPIO left enough of the coding within the Gravestone for me to begin understanding it.”

Coding and slicing were never his strong suits, but over the course of time he spent with Theron, he’d learned the basics and more. He understood where to start and what to look for between the lines.

“When the superweapon charges up, the room undergoes an intense lockdown protocol. Nothing may enter or exit. Only the GEMINI droids, even ARIES, could override the system.  

“But there aren’t any GEMINI droids on Iokath?”

“No,” Altrethir muttered disdainfully. He briefly recalled the event in which Thexia cut down SCORPIO before she could merge into the planet’s system. Truthfully, he thought, that was the reason Iokath had become as chaotic as it was now: it lacked coordination, a sole voice to listen to. The droids ran without guidance or goals. While SCORPIO wasn’t one to be trusted, at least she could have kept the droids under control.

“Even if there was another way to override the programing, it was never tampered with. Here,” he gestured to a line of code that he highlighted in his notes. “There is never any implication that security protocols were lifted. Meaning our suspects are those who were already inside the control room when the assassin struck.”

“So the assassin was already waiting when they arrived,” Ashara said in slow understanding.

“Perhaps. In regard to the self-defense system, here,” Altrethir turned to another page of notes. “Six battle droids are to awaken and eliminate the threat of any tampering with the terminal. Meaning that when the control terminal is damaged or at risk of being harmed—or perhaps if it is already damaged—the droids engage. Theron said he was fighting droids while Thexia was already conversing with the superweapon.

“He did not mention fighting droids when they both entered the chambers, but I do not believe they did. I can recognize remnants of Thexia’s fighting in a heartbeat; not a single one of those droids were sliced in half, decapitated, or crushed by means of the Force. And thus, Theron’s claims contradict the programing of the superweapon.

“Our traitor is no one else than my dear Agent Shan.”

Ashara blinked. Her gut tightened, knowing what significant pain her friend must have felt. “I see why you’re so uneasy now,” she muttered. “I’m sorry, Altrethir. Have you felt his guilt through the Force?”

“Not much. He’s masked his emotions well over the past few days, further drawing my suspicion. Coupled with the evidence, our traitor can be only him.” Altrethir leaned forward, bringing a hand to his mouth then drawing his fingers down his chin in thought. “But my involvement in everything was intentional. He brought the matter to my attention, after all. I fail to yet understand why.”

“The SIS had him on all sorts of undercover missions, right? Maybe he has to keep extra quiet about this one.”

“The SIS has not recruited him for such a mission.”

“How do you know?”

Altrethir hesitated. He glanced to Ashara but kept his head in place. “They already have an agent of the Republic working undercover for them. They wouldn’t require another, not one to do something as drastic as this.”

“What are you talking about?” She kept her voice low but there was eagerness in her tone.

“I allied myself with the Republic. I refuse to become a slave to the Empire again. My agreement in joining Acina was a ruse. But, for now, I work in absolute secrecy for the Republic. I trust you, Ashara, as I have for many years. You must not tell anyone else. Not even your own allies of the Republic, and especially no one else from our old crew.”

Her expression was one of pleasant surprise. A short huff of a laugh escaped her lips as if in disbelief. She gave a quick shake of her head and a shrug of her shoulders, “You’re for real? I mean—stars, I’m relieved that you’re not returning to the Empire. But to join the Republic? How did you manage to convince them?”

“I shall tell you someday in a more secure setting. That is where I would like to drop the matter, please.”

“Of course. So, Theron,” her smile slowly faded. “He’s pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes but yours. What are you going to do about him?”

“I shall continue things as normal. Outing him directly as a traitor will not end well for anyone. I do not believe his intentions are malicious; his assassination attempt on Thexia was orchestrated to be non-lethal. The voltage the superweapon produced was created to short-circuit droids, not to kill humanoids. This was intentional.”

“He’s still on our side.”

“Yes. There is a deeper layer of this situation that I’ve yet to uncover. I shall remain ever observant. And I would like for you to as well, Ashara.”