#Leon kennedy x black oc

[winksasleeplesseye]

reunio (six)

SUMMARY: While Leon and Ashley are off on their own adventure amongst the vast castle, Amara, Luis, and the reluctant Ada are off on their own journey within the castle walls. A hunt and a reunion ensues. But, the chaos isn't over yet.

WORD COUNT: 7k (no edits, we die like men)

WARNINGS: some item hunting, angst, flashbacks and conversations and violence

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1999

The wallpaper was a bit dated, gaudy for sure. All of it in its 70s glory. The floral green upholstered couches and almost painful salmon pink of the accents and decor made Amara’s eyes hurt. 

Paired with the two suits currently occupying the couches. They looked just about excited as postmen at Christmas. Only here out of obligation to the young girl temporarily staying here. It’d been a tough first year, reestablishing normalcy to a girl who’d had less than a normal life proved to be far more difficult than expected. Another reason they’d called her here, beyond their allotted visits. 

The older woman, Mrs. Hoffman, was sweet but one could tell she ran her home with a tad bit of an iron fist. If it wasn’t already clear, this woman was strict to Sherry. 

Treating her as though what laid inside her could be fixed.

Stupid. Fucked up, really.

They’d become two of a kind. Amara knew what it was like to be uprooted quite often, never quite having stability to really put much stock into making friends, sure, she’d try but never quite knowing when they’d be off to the next place made it hard to keep in touch. 

Sherry had been in limbo, both Amara and Claire argued that this much moving around didn’t do much for her. 

Amara leaned against the doorframe, Sherry not yet made aware of her being there as she rummaged through a storage container of cassette tapes. Even from her sitting position on the floor, Amara could tell she’d hit a bit of a growth spurt in her absence. 

The soft melody of an older song played in the cassette player as Sherry clicked it on. The Jackson Five. 

Hmm, she was impressed that Sherry even knew them. 

The song was Got to Be There. Huh, how fitting. 

“Aren’t you a little young to be listening to such old songs?” Amara makes her presence known, the smile Sherry wore is enough to make her have one in return. 

Pushing herself off the ground, she practically jumped into her arms. “Amara!”

“Sherbear! Careful now, my ribs are still bruised from the last hug you gave me,” she jested, ruffling her hair. “How’s Hoffman treating you?” 

“Like a fucking dictator.” There’s a particular heavy emphasis on the curse word. It was definitely new to her. 

“Hey, watch that language.”

“Sorry. It’s just—“

“Yeah, I know.” 

They wanted her here to quell Sherry’s frustrations with going from place to place. One could say she was essentially in the system. Considering how this country operated, no one wanted to be there but Sherry had a strange predicament to start. The cards didn’t really line up in any of their favors. 

Unfortunately, soon enough, she’d be under the care of Derek C. Simmons. 

It was the last option the government had. Amara had fought tooth and nail with the decision but there wasn’t much leverage on her part. Couldn’t exactly go against her own deal, really. 

That man in question had something about him that made her stomach turn. He was like Irons 2.0, a general creepy vibe radiated from him that she didn’t like. He seemed the last person qualified to truly care for Sherry. 

“When am I gonna get to stay with you?” She has a puppy dog look in her eyes. “I’ve never been more bored in my life.”

“Sorry kiddo, but I still have no idea,” Amara answered honestly, shoving a hand into her pocket. She didn’t want to crush the girl’s hopes. Wait. She almost forgot. “Sheesh, Sherry, your keychain!” 

“Where from this time?”

Sherry had developed a strange knack for collecting keychains much like a mother collecting mugs from her kids in their many travel adventures. Amara thought it sweet and just about the funnest thing to pick up on her missions, the others assigned with her would make fun that she’d take the time to stop into the most touristy places just for a “silly” keychain but to see Sherry’s eyes light up as she looked over the fun designs made it worth it. 

“Italy, can’t you tell by the moped?” Amara pointed out the cartoon, an over-exaggerated man speeding away on his blue Vespa and the damn near kismet colors of brown cobblestone streets against a teal-blue skyline on it made it one of the more artistic keychains she’d picked out for the girl. 

Sherry, a little too perceptive for her own good, seems to notice Amara’s overall demeanor underneath the smile she wore. 

“I’m not staying here much longer, am I?”

“You know, in another life, I’d like to think you’d be a detective the way you pick up on so much,” Amara sighed with a sad smile, going down to eye level with the girl. 

“When?”

Her head hangs low, she can’t say it…not directly anyway, not while seeing the sadness that would spring to the girl’s eyes. 

“Next week. With Simmons.” 

Amara inevitably looked on the bright side. Having someone as “important” as Simmons as her guardian guaranteed that no perceived threats could get close to the girl. The only threat that she could think of was Wesker (only second to the very government themselves). After the mansion incident and RC, Wesker’s body had never been recovered so that formed the only logical conclusion to come to that he still walked among the living. 

“He gives me the creeps,” Sherry fiddled with a loose hem on her t-shirt, “a lot of creeps.” 

“I won’t fight you on that, kiddo. But, he’s just about the safest option for you now and you know Claire and me fought hard on that choice.” Amara explained. “There’s a quote I heard once that went a bit like this…in any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing.” 

“This feels like the wrong thing.” Her voice is small. 

“It’s better than nothing, right?” Amara noted. “Besides, it’s not like I’m going to just up and leave and never see you again. You’ll always have me, we are two of a kind after all.” 

Present 

Amara wandered through the grandiose halls of the castle, in search of an item—a blue Butterfly to be specific—to aid Luis in creating a new suppressant and at the same time pondered on the notion of getting Sherry a castle keychain.

This mission had her thinking a lot about the past few years considering she had not one, but two familiar faces from Raccoon. And if Leon was any indication, they’d been…difficult to say the least. 

He was always pretty, but damn, he looked exhausted.

She never thought about her own struggles with sleep nor the other problems that arose too hard, barely breaching the surface. Just put them down as nights filled with distant voices on TV and ramen. The beauty of compartmentalization, she’d punch it down any chance she got. She rubbed her back gingerly, feeling a knot beneath her fingertips. A constant almost hunger sat in her stomach and it gnawed and bubbled like bile in her throat. 

“Definitely need a hot bath after this.” Amara scaled the wall. Silently wishing she had Ada’s grappling gun. 

Amara surveyed the room once she entered, gun at the ready, listening for any special guest that was too keen on choking her out.

Clear. 

She lowered her gun, putting it back in her holster. “Thank fucking God.” 

“Now, let’s see about a blue butterfly.” 

The collection room sat below one of the castle battlement towers so it was pretty clear how little whoever ran this place cared less about preservation, should it have ever come under attack. 

Her hands slid across the displays. The floor creaked under her weight with every cautious step. For a moment, it was as if she were at a museum, slowly gazing over different exhibits. Something about these items fascinated the curiosity deep down.

A letter stood out on the table next to an animal skull, almost too convenient if Amara had to guess. 

Her eyes skim the letter—a diary entry now that she looks closer—and it reads: 

Preparator’s Notes

The collection master is a tacky and lousy boss! He leaves all the dissections for me to do! Even if he does bother to come here, all he does is gawk at his three favorite specimens in a particular order before leaving. 

There’s nothing special about them anyway! Why only look at those three specimens when we have that prized butterfly to admire?

A good researcher would know such things. 

She now noticed the lock, images were the code to unlock it. Seriously? What was it with the damn puzzles? 

She walked around the room about three times. By the third time, her vision blacked out momentarily and a pain struck inside her ribcage. It sent her to her knees.  “Fuck sake, knock it off.” Amara almost wanted to punch herself in the chest but thought better of it. Was this what Leon and Ashley were going through too? 

The more negative part of her thoughts drifted to the smallest possibility of them failing. Small, but ever present. 

A puppet to a parasite. No control over her own body, her own thoughts. Controlled by some unknown figure. 

A particular twist in her gut made her feel like any contents in her stomach could come up. She didn’t want to stomach that for either one of them. Or herself for that matter. They didn’t survive everything thrown their way so far to give up now. 

Stand on your feet, girl. One of her trainers would say after a breathtaking blow would damn near make her keel over. Amara would wave a hand dismissively (tears threatening to spill from her eyes), thinking maybe just maybe she wasn’t cut out for it after all. But that was too easy. 

“Amara? Hanging in there?” Luis’ voice from her radio shaked her out of her thoughts.

“Define that, and I’ll let you know,” She pathetically pushed herself to her feet. “How’s it coming with the ingredients?” 

“Just need yours and we’re good. I’m all about taking it slow, but maybe hurry it up?” 

“So I've saved the best for last?” Amara wiggled her eyebrows. “I’m honored.” She turned the lock a few times, the crudely drawn images on it denoted the animal skulls she had examined. 

A satisfying click comes from it as it opens the display. A perfectly preserved blue butterfly. She weighs it between her fingertips, careful not to let it break. “This better work for all the trouble you gave me.” 

There’s a silence from the comms but she can still hear the sounds in the background on Luis’ end. “Luis, I’ve got it. On my way.” She hangs up shortly after.

Amara is more than ready to get the hell out of here but another letter catches her eye. 

Preparator’s Notes 

The collection master has yet to examine this painting. Lousy boss that he is. After my thorough examination, I’ve decided to have the painting moved to the gallery in the hall with the three-headed statue for display. 

I’m sure the castellan, or someone, will appreciate its rather unusual nature. 

“Two birds, one stone.” 

That had to be pure happenstance that the very last painting would be among the collection of the other rather stereotypical pieces that Amara expected on the walls. She racked her brain, retracing the steps it would take to get to the gallery quickly while also delivering the butterfly to Luis. 

Her watch read 7:35 pm. Amara lifted her eyes to the sky and for the first time, she noticed how dark it truly was. Almost a whole day had passed? 

Los Illuminados really had them on their toes for hours. And yet, here she was, fighting against the clock against a mind-controlling parasite to burn a painting. Shit, she needed to get her priorities straight. 

After having traversed a few of the castle walls (narrowly avoiding encounters with the black robes), she noticed Luis as he carried a wooden box. Amara could only assume those were his tools. 

Ada came up along the path not too long after her.

Amara handed Luis the butterfly, perfectly intact. Ada followed suit and handed him the ink and other items. “That should be everything.” 

Luis dug in his pocket, a small tube of sorts held between his fingertips. The Amber. An almost heady, painful reaction came over both women in its presence. Amara could see black veins as they crawled up the exposed skin of her hands. Her vision turned damn near kaleidoscopic. Her reaction is instinctive. Clawing at the fabric of her sleeve as if she felt the parasite squirming in her veins. 

The habit wasn’t wholly unfamiliar to her. As the G infection took hold of her six years ago, she remembered the spine-tingling pain and the way her nerves almost numbed to nothing. At random intervals she’d press a hand against her right arm to feel that her touch still registered against her skin. That she hadn't been overtaken by the virus. 

“Shit…the parasite must be reacting to the Amber."

"So, that's the Amber? Not exactly what I expected," Amara spoke. It was small, a mere tiny piece of what seemed to be something broken off a larger block. The parasite was minuscule within the resin of yellowish-red tree bark. Like it had been naturally occurring for quite some time. 

She had only learned a few things in her trek to get the Butterfly. The castle's history was in papers that laid haphazardly all over the various rooms of this place. They clearly had no problem with letting an outsider such as Amara learn their history. The Plagas had been here, naturally occurring within the village before the cult had come to deliver what they thought was...salvation to the villagers. Of course, then, it had no name, and the villagers searched for anything that would rid them of this "plague." 

Amara couldn't exactly blame them. How easy it was to go along with this lulled state of prosperity. 

But, it was false. A pyrrhic victory as they had given up their free will and their bodies to something truly grotesque. 

"It's coming," Ada spoke softly, a hand against her temple. 

An inhuman screech came from nearby. Amara's reaction isn't physical, so much as it is visual at the sight of...she can't even begin to describe it. Its face denoted that of a bug of sorts, gnarly claws extended out from underneath the robe it wore as it towered over all three of them. 

She never looked away, careful not to blink for fear of this disgusting thing lunging at them. Doesn't even flinch as this thing gets closer. Her first thought isn't even fighting this thing, it's going after that painting while she still had the chance. Clearly, it's after Ada and she guessed the suppressant could wait. Her second thought was catching up with Leon, now that Luis had recreated it, maybe she could tell him something good. 

With that in mind, experiencing a brief sense of deja vu, she ran toward the Grand Hall. "We'll meet up again soon!" 

"Head towards the mines!" Luis shouted back as he helped Ada away from the creature. 

The Grand Hall is just as Amara expected. Though, entirely too damn quiet for her liking. An elegant chandelier hung above her head, illuminating the hall with more than enough light. Marble statues lined the path and a plush velvet blue carpet leading to the staircase laid beneath her boots. Mud now stained the carpet and for a brief second, she felt bad that such quality was ruined by it. She would have loved to spend some more time wandering this place but she had to remind herself that she was here on a mission. 

Still, her eyes follow along the opulent archways, ones also cast in stainless marble. 

"If I were a gallery, where would I be?" Amara posed the question to herself. She pulled from her knowledge as a high school student, the history nerd inside her surely squealing at the chance to use what others deemed "useless" information. 

Castle galleries were usually nestled toward the back, better to keep their intimacy and the state of exclusivity to the ones who lived there rather than outwardly make them known. 

Plus, they offered their telling of the family's lineage and history beyond just the books. Not that Amara was particularly, fervently interested in learning about whoever ran this place now (she only learned by chance), considering the zealots followed the orders of their castellan and well, their castellan didn't like guests. 

That was another thing she'd learned. Ramon Salazar ran the show around here and didn't seem pleasant, based on what she read. 

A Spanish nobleman, descended from centuries of warriors, born to Diego and Catalina Salazar. 

She hoped she wouldn’t have to meet him, but she also wondered if Leon and Ashley had encountered him. Salazar sounded like…what was it that the servant called him? A Pulgarcito.

Fuck being impolite and imposing on his castle. Like, seriously? He threw acid on the face of one of his servants. He clearly fits right in with Los Illuminados. Catalina had allowed their influence to take hold and take hold of her son and while Amara could certainly understand the need to protect their flesh and blood, a parasite would be the last thing she'd give a child to "protect" them. Honestly, getting the chance to rid him of one painting was doing him a favor. 

The gallery is not as she expected. It's actually rather nice, at least the little shit had taste in art. Like she were one to talk, just about the only thing she ever owned art-wise was a knockoff Basquiat (before it was burned to a crisp in '98) but examining the paintings, she could still see the brushstrokes and dried paint laid upon the canvasses. The smell still hit her nose...huh, oil paint.

Most people couldn't stand the scent of paint but Amara found it quite fragrant, it made her miss her set-up at her new apartment. In the corner of her bedroom meeting the slanted windows to the floor, giving her a view of the city as she would let her paintbrush across canvases. 

She certainly would be committing the room to memory. Its vibrant apple-red carpets, marble flooring, and gold-framed displays were worthy on their own to be painted. Of course, they needed to get out of here alive first before that would happen. 

There it is. 

The painting. 

All its glory laid out before her. More of a macabre display than anything else and it all was mere inches from her fingertips.

Yet, a weird feeling wriggled up her neck. 

This is way too easy. 

Amara quickly scanned her surroundings at every angle, God forbid a spike or something dropped down on her head.

Her first steps when encountering one of the paintings on her missions were to document them. Preferably with a camera or something. Each one of the paintings needed to be documented, not only for top brass but for record purposes.

Amara’s eyes scanned the length of the frame. Shit. 

She was beginning to wish she had actually kept the mini camera from her last mission. 

How in the hell could she document this? 

As if a lightbulb shone above her head, she frantically ripped open the pouch (just short of tearing it apart) on her leg. If she couldn’t take a photo, she could damn well draw the picture, right?

Well, a more rudimentary version, at least. 

Kneeling to the ground, she places her notepad onto her thigh. A quick once over of the painting has her examining the more basic ideas of it as she began her outline.  

There wasn’t exactly the luxury of time. After a few minutes, she raises the notepad to the light. Amara turns her lips down in a judgmental manner.

Crude but good enough.

Could be better. 

Now, it was time to destroy the real thing. 

She managed to get the painting off the wall but she hadn’t accounted for the fact that maybe, just maybe, there had been a weight mechanism to deter thieves. The hall becomes shrouded in darkness, a particularly loud thud comes from the entrance she came from. 

“Shit!” She laughed humorlessly. “This is just delightful.” 

And it only seemed to get more delightful as Amara heard the heavy footsteps and shifting, grating sound of what had to be steel or iron plates. 

Just as she turned around, she only had a half second before she moved out of the way of the business end of a heavy sword. Sparks from where the sword hit the floor momentarily lit up the space. Part of her wanted to take a closer look at the knight that had just reanimated to attack her but the other part of her—and frankly, the more logical—pushed herself out of its way. 

Her stomach turned, a tightness constricting around her ribs as the knight wobbled and stumbled towards her, sword dragging against the carpet. 

Amara conferred with herself for a moment. Clearly the darkness was a trigger for it to come to life and attack so maybe light would be just the thing to stop it? It’s at this moment that she remembered she does have weapons at her disposal, namely a flash grenade she found lying around earlier.

She quickly enacts her idea–her only idea–to toss a flash grenade near it just as it raises the sword once more to swipe at her. The room is covered in the brightness white light, briefly fucking with Amara’s vision. A disconcerting little scream (screech?) sounded off from the knight and when her eyes readjust, she finds the armor in pieces on the floor and viscera around it. 

Moving closer to it, she stands over it and for some reason all that comes to mind for her to say is: “You are no knight in shining armor.” 

Amara realized how stupid it sounded only afterwards in the silence, but decided not to chastise herself. 

Some of Leon’s tendencies to quip had left an imprint on her brain.

With an eye roll, she stepped away from the armor and focused on the bars locking her in. In proper Indiana Jones fashion, she swiftly replaced the weight of the painting with a seemingly heavy chalice that had escaped its display during the knight’s melee. The bars lift from the entrance.

“Now,” she moved towards the sword, taking it in her hands, “time to actually destroy this painting.” 

Needing no preamble, Amara plunges the sword into the canvas. Dragging the sharp sword through the image with no rhyme or reason. The artist inside her cried a little at ruining of such a nice canvas but it was for the greater good. After the painting is practically shredded, Amara can faintly hear the sound of gunshots resonating within the halls. The only answer that made sense shouted in her head. Leon and Ashley. 

Dropping the sword, she propelled herself in that direction.

Amara followed the noise to find more of the castle goons were on Leon and Ashley like bees to honey. One had Leon in their clutches, choking him out while another attempted to grab at Ashley. Within moments, Amara dispatched both with efficiency. 

Both drop with unceremonius thuds but that sends Leon and Ashley’s attention towards her. She can’t help but smile.

“You know, if you needed the assist…I would’ve come sooner.” 

“Amara!” Ashley couldn’t fight a smile as she stepped over the bodies to meet them halfway. Leon sat on the ground, still recovering his breath. “Need a hand?” 

“Thanks.” Leon took hold of her outstretched hand, pulling him up to stand once again. “Where have you been? Where’s Luis?” 

She looked back towards the way she came briefly. Luis could handle Ada’s infection. Hers seemed more urgent. 

“It’s a long story, really long. He said he’d meet us in the ballroom.” 

Amara really didn’t want to divulge everything from start to finish in the time they’d been apart. Better to be given grief later by Leon. 

“What about you two? Anything interesting?”

The pair share a look. She can only imagine what that meant. She raised her eyebrows briefly before throwing her hands up in defeat, “I’m better off not knowing. Anyways, what the hell are you two doing now?” 

“Well, we’ve been trying to get a-head of the game,” Leon picks up what seems to be a golden lion statue head, his voice is deadpan, but it’s clear he’s attempting to lighten the mood.

Amara looks at Ashley, “Has he subjected you to this this whole time?” 

She chuckled a tad, “Get this. He paid me a compliment not too long ago.”

“Consider me shocked, I thought Leon the Grouch  over here had a heart of stone.” 

It doesn’t escape Amara’s notice that a corner of Leon’s mouth slightly quirked up. But just as quick as it had come, it was gone. “If you two are done, I’d like to get a move on.”

She waved a hand at him. “Oh, don’t get your holster in a twist.” 

They trailed behind Leon as he made his way back towards what seemed to be a three headed statue. Sans the one he currently held in his hands. The mechanism quietly slots into place at the final piece being attached but something about it seemed particularly off. Things couldn’t be that easy this evening. 

She doesn’t hesitate to voice that. “Well…that seemed way too easy. A bit…disconcerting actually.” 

As if right on cue, Ashley pointed and yelled out, “Leon! Amara! The stairs!” 

Both of them follow where she pointed, finding more of those stupid zealots coming after them. Everything after that happened so quick, it almost gave her whiplash.

Her heart pounded against her chest and reverberated in her ears, though she wasn’t sure if it was sheer terror or adrenaline kicking in. A healthy mix of both, probably. 

But, if there was one thing she learned in all her training, she had to do the hard things scared out of her mind.

Leon swiftly aimed his gun at them, ready to take them all on as Ashley stood closer to the pillars to give herself proper distance. 

Amara followed suit with the former. Better two guns than one. 

But just as quick, she heard a click from a switch and a familiar thud. A gilded cage surrounded both her and Leon. Leaving Ashley vulnerable. They were trapped.

“Run! Now!” Leon swiftly commanded through the bars to Ashley in a tone that Amara hadn’t heard from him before. (Though, to be fair, she’d never seen him in a mission setting until now).

They briefly shared a glance before turning their attention to the threat.

Two of their zealot friends had somehow joined them within the golden enclosure. 

She leapt out of the way of a scythe, just barely scraping at her ankles. 

Through the bars, a flaming arrow scraped against her arm. Trying not to wince, she unloaded a few rounds into the zealot with her good arm. She slid between their legs. A quick slash of a boot knife, then a disgusting spurt of red at the zealot’s ankles.

She had to be sure. 

It was a shame the higher ups couldn’t see what a pair these two were. Both worked with an efficiency and a finesse even within the barrier of the enclosure.

The zealot laid at her feet, guaranteed they would not get back up. Blood seeped onto the marble floor beneath.

There was almost a deafening silence except the lock of flames emanating from torches nearby. Amara could only breathe a sigh of relief. 

But, that didn’t stop her from being brought back to reality. Her arm. 

Damn arrows. Amara checked the sleeve of her sweater, that fiery arrow cut through it straight to her skin. Blood sat at the surface of a fresh cut and stung more than the countless other scrapes she’d acquired over the years. 

She examined the surroundings more clearly. An array of the black-robed zealots lay haphazardly around the space of the cage. 

Only she and Leon remained standing. 

Now Ashley had to fend for herself, something that Amara hated to think about. She briefly put herself in the girl’s shoes. Thinking about how scary this whole ordeal was without the necessary tools and training that the two of them had. 

She gingerly rubbed a thumb over the wound, smearing the blood onto the inside of her sweater. It’d heal. 

Just like every other wound. Part of her “experimentation” before they loosened her leash noted the G virus had granted an almost protective ability over certain types of wounds. This was one of them. 

But, with the added intruder swimming in her organs, it was almost as if this ability were halted. The pain stayed and the cut still bled. 

“You alright?” Leon asked, immediately taking gentle hold of her elbow to examine her. Amara found herself doing the same—something she’d been doing a lot since reuniting with the pair. Besides the mussed hair, dirt, and other grime, Leon looked just about as unscathed as when he’d first arrived. Except for the wound on his hand, she didn’t see it but one could ascertain from the blood on the grip of his gun.

“I’ll live. Just a scratch. Now, let me see your hand,” Amara held out her own. Leon scrunched his eyes in confusion. “What?”

“I’m no gun aficionado, but guns don’t make your hand bleed through a glove, Leon.” She gestured once more, “Now, hand please.” 

He hesitantly placed his hand in her palm. She took her time to remove his glove, the cut through it more obvious when looked at directly. Sheesh, how’d he do that? 

“Do I want to know what you did?” She asked, half joking and half serious as she met his eyes. 

He scoffed, “Will it make you feel better if I tell you?”

“Hmm, maybe.”

“Ashley tried to stab me.” He stated, as if he were describing the most mundane thing like the weather or something.

“She what?” 

“It’s not what you think…something…or someone took over her,” Leon looked as though he was still trying to piece it together. “I, at least, had—ah—the sense to stop her—shit—before she took an eye out.” Leon hissed as Amara rubbed alcohol along the cuts. 

“All it cost you was some flesh.” Amara looked away briefly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there… to help.” 

“I’m a big boy, I can fight my own battles.” 

“You don’t have to fight them alone, you know? I don’t want you to,” She admitted. “Being alone, it’s not a nice feeling-” 

“Amara—“

“And you won’t ever be alone. Not when you have me. Okay?” 

Leon pulls away the second she finishes cleaning the wound, and a heavy sigh leaves him. 

“It’s not that simple,” he spoke faintly. 

“Why not?” She asked just as quietly, ready to lay it all out considering they weren’t leaving the cage anytime soon. “Why can’t it be?”

“Is this really the time for this?” Leon is cold, cutting in his tone. It’s obvious to Amara that he’s trying to deflect. The more direct, the more indirect people became, she realized. 

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen you in—what? Six years? Now is as good a time as any,” She barked, she could feel herself running hot with anger. “I guess the message has been pretty clear and I was too stupid to see it.” 

Leon pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes more than likely annoyed to even have the conversation especially right now. 

“I stayed away for a reason, Amara, and not for whatever reason you think I have.” 

“Tell me.” 

“Because you deserve normal. A normal life. Normal everything.” The frustration is clear in his voice, but his voice remains at the same level. 

“And you don’t?” 

“Has anything since Raccoon shown that I do?” Leon gestures briefly.

“Leon, I don’t know if you’re aware but…shit’s been fucked up for me too since then. Doesn’t make the both of us any less deserving of something good.” 

“I can’t take that risk. I need you to be safe.”

“From what? The world? The government? I’ve never needed protecting, Leon. I’ve needed yo—“

You. That’s what she was going to say: that after everything, she had no one to turn to. To tell about everything and that would understand and he was the one person, her person… and he wasn’t there. It devastated her in a way she couldn’t fathom. But none of that came out, because his mouth was suddenly covering hers.

Was it a way to get her to shut up or to distract her from the topic, or both? 

Amara panicked at first, muscles stiffened, standing frozen, but his hand was on her cheek, the other wrapped gently around her neck, and she was suddenly kissing him back. 

Her arms fervently wrapped around his shoulders, crushing her front against his. Her hands thread through his hair, messing up its carefully styled appearance, making it a bit more disheveled, but it wasn’t enough. 

She wanted to dishevel all of him. 

Realizing they both needed to breathe at some point, Leon pulled away first, looking down at her. The thumb on her cheek traveled to her lower lip, tracing it.

“Don’t you realize?” Leon whispered, and she watched his lips, “The reason I need to protect you so badly is because I’m in love with you?” 

Her breath hitched at those words. Amara hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear them. 

“I’ll be damned if I let myself be another part of your suffering. You don’t deserve that,” He repeated himself as if he were trying to convince himself more than her. 

“And what do I deserve?”

“Better than me.”

“I think I can decide that for myself,” she spoke. “Leon, you’re worried about the risk, but what about the guarantees?” 

“Amara-“

“Leon! Amara!” Ashley’s voice echoed from higher up. It quickly separates the two as they both search for where it came from. 

Amara cracked a smile, her first in what felt like hours, though it was brief. 

From her vantage point, the voice seems to come from a gated door at the nearest balcony. “Ashley? Are you okay?” 

“…Yeah, hang tight, I’ll get you guys out of there!” 

The sound of her boots gets farther and farther away but Amara can’t help but feel a weight lifted. 

They both nod their head in understanding despite her not being able to see it. She had to give her some credit, she’s a smart cookie. She moves towards the statue, deciding to sit down for once.

“Sit with me?” Amara asked him innocently. He couldn’t do anything but oblige. 

Were it any other place, not surrounded by corpses, he’d think it romantic to sit under a statue. Huh, maybe this is their romantic?

Her words made the gears turn in his head. When he sat next to her, she laid her head on his shoulder. Leon cherished any sort of contact she’d give him, god knows the last time he’d known a gentle touch. 

He’d spent a lot of time alone, by choice. Having anything even remotely close to a “close” relationship with anyone was a risk. It’s probably why he’d gotten such a reputation around the office according to Hunnigan. Leon never really cared for the gossip or the attention he got. 

He never really divulged anyone in his love life prior to Raccoon and after. At least, he tried to. Hunnigan certainly pestered him enough. He’d only let himself slip up once in mentioning Amara (not by name, of course). 

She certainly teased him enough about it before this mission, but it was easy to tell that she worried about him. Leon would constantly wave her off, wave her off, wave her off until she gave up. 

But now, Amara offered a new perspective. One he never thought to consider. 

He always thought about the risks of it all and became quite familiar. What if he died on his next mission or even this one? Never got to see Amara again, something he couldn’t exactly face head-on. What about the guarantees? What if he could prove himself wrong? Do this kind of work and have someone to come home to?

Leon knew it was too soon to retire now as a government agent (not that they’d let him), but he’d imagined it—well, he didn’t imagine beyond a certain point these days. Just getting to the next day with a pulse was good enough. But a part of him—deep down—had yearned for that silly white-picket-fence life when he was more idealistic, more bushy-tailed, more the bright-eyed rookie he’d left behind in Raccoon City. Buried under the remains of a forgotten city. 

He could see that now as if Amara had unlocked it from the deepest recesses of his mind. The guarantee of someone to confide in, someone happy to be with him, happy to come home with him. 

“Get out of your head,” Amara nudged him with her elbow. “Is this a bad time to ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Are you…seeing anyone? You know, it’s been…six years.” 

“I just kissed you and said I’m in love with you, is that not answer enough?” 

“Maybe? People kiss people all the time—“

Leon sighed. “No, I’m not. You?”

“Don’t laugh. But no.” A strange giddiness came over him at this information. But still, he found it insane that that was even the case. Her? Of all people? 

“No? I find that hard to believe.” 

“Why?” 

“Why? Look at you, any man would be insane to not kiss the ground that your feet walk on.” 

“Huh, then would that make you insane?” 

Damn. She had him there.

“That’s debatable.” Her laugh is brief, it’s nice. Leon wished he could bottle it up. 

“Fucked up circumstances aside, this is good.” 

“Yeah.” His reply is terse. 

“How have you been?” Leon stares straight ahead, genuinely thinking about the question. But something inside wants to retract, dial it back in fear of revealing too much. Vulnerability isn’t exactly his strong suit. Too much of his life had become classified information. 

Awful. Terrible. Like nothing seems right. 

“I’m alive, usually counts for something,” he quipped.

“It does, so working directly under Graham, huh? How’d you manage that?” 

“Well, they asked me and I couldn’t exactly say no.” 

Amara nodded in understanding. She knew too well but he couldn’t fault her for asking. More curiosity nagged at him for what she had been doing for six years. He knew that she’d become a top agent but not exactly how that came to be. Training, a few covert ops, and Operation Javier all came to mind for himself. 

He shuddered to think what they’d had her doing. What about the past six years was fucked up for her? 

“So, uh…what about you?” 

She looked away. “I’m sure you’ve read the file.” 

He noticed her blinking rapidly as if she were trying to clear something from her vision. 

“A file only says so much.” Leon ran a hand across her forehead, still checking that she was okay. “Jesus, you’re burning up.” 

“Damn parasite.” She cursed, leaning into his touch. “Your hands are still cold.” 

That alone made Leon become more alert, and back into focus mode. She felt unnaturally, uncomfortably warm. He abruptly stood up, carefully pulling Amara up with him so that could better assess her. Holding her face between his palms, he scanned every inch of it even as her brow furrowed in obvious confusion. 

“Everything okay?” 

“I hope so.” 

That's when he noticed a brief twitch and almost jerk, he had to catch her before she all but collapsed to the floor. He recognized it, the parasite had to be working hard to take Amara down. He hated to call it a shield, but considering the G virus, she still looked just as sorry as the rest of them but it had to be fighting just as hard to keep her at "optimal" performance. Like a machine. 

She dug a hand into his bicep, eyes scrunched close while her other hand pressed against her temple. She’d been having the visions too, seeing and hearing that hooded figure in her head. Trying to lure her in with his almost sinister, charming words. 

Leon could only wonder what he’d been filling her head with. Whatever it was, it was bullshit. 

Amara seemed as though she had come up for air, the vision had passed. “Give me a fucking break.” 

“Couldn’t agree more,” Leon sighed, turning his head in the direction of where Ashley had called out to them. He really hoped that she was alright. For now, he basked in the closeness with Amara, curling his fingers around hers briefly.

Something about it was strange…foreign almost. 

Physical touch didn’t exactly fit into his busy schedule. Which in hindsight is incredibly…sad (something that Hunnigan doesn’t fail to remind him of). 

“Leon?” Amara softly spoke.

“Hm?”

She snickers a bit to herself, “I may have fibbed a bit earlier.”

He furrows his brows, turning his attention from watching the outer perimeters of the cage to her. “About?”

“Dating someone.” 

Leon’s response is swift. “Don’t tell me anything.” 

Amara jokingly scoffed. “Seriously? Why? Think you’ll get jealous?” 

“I won’t bullshit you and say I wouldn’t…because I would, insanely.” And it’s the truth. Leon always thought honesty is the best policy but that doesn’t stop the slight heat creeping up his neck in embarrassment. 

“Well, rest assured, it’s much like the antiques in this castle. Ancient history.” 

“How thoughtful of you to tell me,” Leon deadpanned. Much like with their resident Spanish heartthrob, Leon couldn’t exactly stomach the thought of anyone else wrapped up in Amara’s arms. Besides, right now, they needed to get out of this cage.

“Now, can you focus?”

“Hey, you’re the boss here,” Amara put her hands up in surrender with a knowing smirk. 

Just then, Leon could faintly hear footsteps from above. Of course, neither he nor Amara were aware their momentary reprieve was coming to an end. 

[larvamars]

«it's a date, then?»

[melanatedeuph0ria]

welcome to my page !!☆

hiiiii & welcome to my melanatedeuph0ria!! for ab a yr or 2 now, i’ve been mainly reading fics on tumblr on characters like rick grimes, spencer reid, toji, etc. (nonblk characters mostly let’s be fr..) and throughout those yrs, i’ve been noticing a complete lack of..

BLACK POVS.

“well, if the fic just says ‘reader x (character)’, couldn’t you just use your imagination to insert ur race?? 🤔”

while this IS true, i feel like us as black & poc readers should have the opportunity to read some fanfics that makes us feel SPECIAL & RECOGNIZED, in aspects such as our skin, hair, & realness without it being stereotypical or just having us feel defaulted to a white pov. (also without it being just SMUT cmon y’all)

also, we all know rick grimes luvs some MELANINNNN ‼️🗣️

so, with that being said, i am here to bring justice to my fellow blk readers who needed a lil spice in their reading, so the imagination part could be a bit easier 🫶🏽

SOME of the fics i make will be poc x reader, others will be just x reader & up for interpretation !!

NOTE: this is NOT me saying black readers ONLY want black-centered fics, nor is this me placing black readers in a box, NOR is this me putting down “x reader” fics!! this is me saying that, although i do enjoy fics without a specified race most of the time, sometimes i feel like having fics catered to poc are special as well because there aren’t many on this app to call our own!!💗

ty for sticking around until the end, and im hoping to start writing fics soon !! 🌷🌸

[iluffyouxo]

ρℓυм αηԃ ѕυցαя || ℓєση ѕ. кєηηєԃу

Resident Evil 4 — leon s. kennedy x black, female oc

There was something in his boyish look as he stared into space, a hand stuck in between the tresses of his ash blonde hair.

Next to him, on the table, sat a half-empty glass of Hennessy and, in front of him, the tv displayed a show Sigrid had forgotten the name of.

Not that it really mattered.

She could tell he wasn’t paying attention to the background laughter and characters’ smiles shown on screen.

Rather he was glancing behind it at the window which faced a high view of the city line that met the downcast of the evening sky.

Leon had returned from his trip to Spain quicker than Sigrid had anticipated.

It had been a rather dull, grey afternoon spent cleaning indoors—though, in that late hour, the winds began to moan and the rain crashed against the window panes—when Sigrid opened the door to a drenched and noticeably jaded Leon Kennedy. “Oh, Leon…”

It was her usual greeting upon his typical unannounced arrivals.

Though, she never knew the context of his trips, she knew that they were important and never questioned why or how he was leaving for some no-name town in another country in the earliest hours of the morning—or be it the middle of the night.

The two weren’t dating, the two weren’t lovers, they were only roommates that had survived the same tragedy. Roommates that held the same trauma. It was best that they didn’t fall in love.

(Even if Leon had already broken that unspoken rule).

She didn’t really have a right to know. He could walk right out of her life, and it wouldn’t really matter. They weren’t even best friends—that title easily belonged to Chris and Claire.

However, that didn’t stop Sigrid from getting to know him better than the back of her right hand.

Leon had a huge sweet tooth, and the one weirdest combination that never failed to cheer him up was her mom’s sugarplum cake.

And she was currently plating a slice on one of her more aesthetically designed plates. “Here, Leon,” Sigrid hands him the plate, “I made you mom’s cake.”

He glances down at the plate in his hands before placing it on the table in front of him and giving her a quick nod in gratitude…or acknowledgement.

Sigrid sighs, planting a quick kiss atop his head, “I’m gonna be gone for a few days to visit my aunt. You’ll be okay, right?”

Sigrid knew he wouldn’t. After the five years of being roommates with each other, it took only a few months for her to gauge the fact that Leon had an abandonment issue—a severe one at that.

In the recent years there have been a few times that Leon knocked on her bedroom door (most likely after awakening from a nightmare) at the hopes that she was still there. That she hadn’t left him behind. And he’d sleep on her floor without a word of granting explanation in the morning.

Leon looks up at her, pale blue eyes glossed over, and his lips parted in an attempt to speak. “I…” What exactly was he going to say? No? He couldn’t keep Sigrid from seeing her family. That’d be selfish.

(Even if his second mind told him to say no. Even if he wanted so badly to tell her to stay).

“Ummm…yeah, I’ll be fine,” his voice cracked. “I’m no Boy Scout in need of babysitting.” The dim-witted joke catches Sigrid off guard and she huffs out a laugh. “Then, I’ll leave the house to you and your terrible jokes.”

Leon returns Sigrid’s halfhearted laugh with a small grin. He liked it when she made fun of his idiocies.

Leon leaned against the doorframe, watching as Sigrid pulled out a large suitcase from under the bed. It hadn’t been touched since they had first moved in together. Her tight coils had been pulled into a high afro puff and he thought it looked like a crown atop her head.

He had come back to her hair dyed a pearl blonde and it was pretty, a nice contrast to her dark brown skin. His own ash blonde didn’t fit him well since his skin and eye color was already pretty pale. Leon just guessed he was meant to be a somber and dry person.

“Hey, Leon.” He blinks out of his daze, turning to look up at her. “You’re crying.”

Leon lifts a hand to his cheek…oh, my face is wet. He uses the back of his wrists to wipe at his eyes. “…Sorry.” Sigrid was already in front of him, though, forcing his hands away and using her thumbs to brush his cheeks. “You said you’d be okay.”

He downcasts his blueberry gaze. “Leon…you lied to me again, didn’t you?” Of course she knew the answer to this. But, obvious questions were the only way to get him to talk. “I’m…no, I won’t be okay. Sorry.”

With a sigh Sigrid reaches around his shoulder, Leon instinctively flinches, to rest her fingers in the thin strands of light grey tresses. Sigrid begins pushing his head down leading him to lay his head on her shoulder. She sighs again and leans her head against his gently. “Just ask me to stay, my aunt will understand.”

Sometimes he forgot how sympathetic—or, rather, perceptive—Sigrid is. Despite her dominant demeanor and introverted attitude. It was the main reason why the pair lived with each other in the first place.

She could apprehend the feelings of his, considering Sigrid had also survived Raccoon City just a year prior. The imagery daunting and fresh. They had been interrogated by the same secret service (though, he had been the only one recruited by them).

With his attraction seemingly evident by everyone but her and Sigrid’s own kindness they had decided to take up an apartment somewhere in the suburbs of Washington DC. And they’ve lived with each other for the past five and a half years. Even so, sometimes he does forget why he likes her because it just feels…right to have this fondness weld up.

“I almost died, again; I almost didn’t keep my promise to not end up a Leon pancake.” Sigrid genuinely laughs at that, “You’re so silly, Leon.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles into her oversized hoody. It smelled of morning dew and woody sage. The fragrance was completely Sigrid Monroe. “I think that’s why I like you.”

Leon quickly jumps out of Sigrid’s embrace at her remark. She smiles, “And I know you like me, too.”

Before Leon can respond back Sigrid takes his hand in hers. “C’mon, your sugarplum cake is waiting on you.” Leon decides to keep quiet and grin. Sigrid’s said everything, anyways. No sense in ruining a good thing.

[navstuffs]

Nude painting class

Pairing: RookieRE2!Leon x BustyF!Reader

Summary: You and Leon continue meeting in weird circumstances.

Warning tags: au, written with busty/curvy reader in mind, but anyone can read it, SMUT MINORS DNI, nudity, blowjob (m receiving), mask/hidden identity, cum, nudity, tiny cum play, deep-throat, switch!leon, leon loves your tits, ingrid is my oc

Author's Notes: hiiii! my husband gave the ideia (again) for the second part of traffic stop (spoiler alert: he gave the idea for the third/final part as well and it is THE BOMB!!). HABEMUS smuuuuuut! which i want to remind you all, i am no expert, and i hope to continue improving (since for the final part i will def need it)! hope you have fun reading it!

part 1 | my leon's masterlist

"Nude painting?"

Your friend Ingrid nods her head, excited. You look at yourself: short floral dress, make-up-ready. That wasn't exactly what you had in mind when you came all the way from Raccoon City to celebrate Ingrid's birthday. You came to have fun, get wasted, and end up in some strange man's arms. Not to paint.

"What happened to the Ingrid that loved drinking and partying?" Ingrid simply shrugs, resting against the passenger seat from the rideshare app. Well, it is her birthday, not yours.

"What about you? When are you leaving Racoon City?"

It is your time to shrug now. You decided to stay when Ingrid and most of your friends moved at the end of high school. You never thought of moving away.

"I love you, but Racoon City has nothing in there. It is a small town everyone leaves as soon as they can. What possibly can keep you there?"

A sudden pair of blue eyes crosses your mind, and you feel your face heating up. Ingrid opens a smirk, holding you in the arm.

"Wait, wait, there is someone?" You bite your lips, shaking your head.

"No, there is no one!" Ingrid holds into your arm, pressing you to tell her.

No, there wasn't. You only met Officer Kennedy once and never saw him again. It is not like you were looking hopeful at every police car that passed. Which you weren't. Or wondering if Leon was thinking as much of you as you thought of him.

You try to take Officer Kennedy out of your head for tonight. He is probably five hours away, doing who-knows-what. You are there to have fun.

-x-

Chris crosses his arm, watching Leon walk back and forth, both already dressed in robes. Chris has a malicious smile on his face: he was the one who convinced Leon to do this. Leon needed the money to help pay for his college anyway.

"I swear, you are fine! We are like, what? Five hours away from Racoon City? Who the fuck would see you? And you are going to be wearing a mask anyway!"

Leon knows this. He knows he is very far away from his workplace, yes, he would be wearing a mask to hide his identity. All of that should serve to ease Leon, but it doesn't. He has this strange feeling inside of him, growing since he arrived. 

Before they leave their locker area, Leon is handed a black full-face Venetian mask. He has his hair back with gel, making it all spiky. They are taken to the paint room, Chris giving a thumbs up before they enter the main room.

Leon is trying hard not to place his hands in front of his dick when he gets to the room, although he is still technically covered. There are around twenty to thirty women in front of blank canvases, all eyeing them up and down. His job is to pose and maybe walk around. Easy peasy, Chris mentioned, and you don't even have to talk.

Leon lets his eyes glance around the room. Most women are excited, talking with each other. That's when Leon notices a woman he never thought he would see right here, his heart beating fast against his chest. One that has not left his mind since the traffic stop.

Leon could not believe his bad luck.

-x-

Ingrid is vibrating with excitement when the models start to come out. You warn her to ease on the wine, but Ingrid says it is her birthday, so she can do whatever she wants. Your eyes went from the stronger one with dark hair to the leaner blonde one, hair pulled back with gel. Why did you feel like you knew him?

"Can we touch them?" Ingrid interrupts your thoughts, excited.

"We can NOT touch them, Ingrid! Not if you want to get kicked out of here!"

You hear screams and claps around, and when you turn back, they take their underwear off. Well, great you lost the strip tease. Your eyes go from the brown-haired one to the blonde. Well, it seems he was hiding some muscles in there.

Your eyes go down to his abs, and it stops just above his pubic hair. Should you dare to look more? Oh, fuck it. It is Ingrid's party, you are there to have fun, you remind yourself. You look down at his cock, and you gulp, staring at it a little longer than you should.

"Okay, I get the brown-haired one, you get the blonde one," Ingrid whispers, startling you.

Your stare finally crosses with the model, and he is highly interested in you. You immediately look away, cheeks heating up, focusing on your canvas. You grab the first brush and paint you find and start painting.

The following two hours feel long for both you and Leon. You must look to draw your model, but if you had glanced three times during that time, it would have been too much. Ingrid, half drunk by now, kept her eyes focused on him every time he passed. You barely moved, his leg brushing lightly against your back.

"I think he likes you," Ingrid whispers, covering her mouth.

"Ingrid, he does not!"

"He keeps passing here, staring at your tits. I think he is getting hard as well."

"Ingrid, he isn't staring at my tits!" You say more loudly than you should. Ingrid slowly turns away, and when you go back to your side, Blonde's cock is literally inches away from your face. You don't move, paralyzed, analyzing from the corner of your eyes. He has some pubic hair in there, not entirely shaved (which gave him more charm). You watch as it suddenly twitches in your line of vision, making you lick your lips.

You hear a low clearing of the throat, and you look up, a very intense blue eyes staring at you right back. With your cheek heating up, you lock in his gaze, wondering what would happen if you shove his cock down your mouth.

"And class is up! Let's see what you did, people!" The teacher announces, waking you and the model for your trance.

He quickly moves away from you as you stare at your horrible paint, half of what was supposed to be a human body done in there. Ingrid's paint looks much better.

"Hey, yours look good!"

"You can focus more when you aren't flirting with your model!"

"I was NOT flirting!"

-x-

Leon slams the locker door open, frustrated. It is far away from Raccoon City, Chris said, you will be fine, he said. And yes, Leon would have been fine if he didn't find himself in front of the woman who had been pestering his mind for the last couple of months. Leon had lost count of how many times he fapped for you, your boobs on his mouth, your tits around his cock, as you took him in your mouth, your boobs bouncing as you rode him.

"...bathroom? Oh, shit, I am so sorry!"

Of course, it had to be you, lost on your way to the bathroom and entering the model's locker room instead. Blonde has his back turned against the door. You can't see his face, but you notice as he quickly grabs the mask before him in the locker. Your eyes start going down to his jeans pants and the line of his underwear. Neither you nor he move until you mutter, embarrassed.

"I am really, really sorry."

"I don't think it was an accident. You came here looking for something, didn't you?" Leon tries to mask his voice, going deeper. Inside, he is freaking out. What if you run away screaming, pervert? He is a cop, for Christ's sake! He has stopped you in traffic before, this would be so unethical in levels he didn't even know of.

You stay quiet until Leon hears the door closing and being locked. He turns around, and you look timid by the door, looking anywhere but him, rubbing the front of your dress with your hands.

"Come here. Sit." Leon says, pointing to the bench in front of him. Leon is thankful you don't look up as you sit. You would notice his nervousness, even through the mask, his hands shaking.

He first looks at your cleavage, a tiny part of your green bra poking. Leon wants to touch and grope them, feel them against his hands, but he holds himself back. Leon gently grabs your chin to look at him.

"I saw the way you looked at me in that class. I know you want me, don't you?" You nod, forgetting about Ingrid outside or that you could get in trouble for this. Leon opens a smile, but you can't see it. "Then come on. Open your mouth. "

Leon doesn't have to say twice. You open the button of his jeans, pulling down his underwear with your shaky hands, causing it to fall altogether. He is hard already, leaking. You waste no time shoving down your mouth.

"Shit. Fuck. Li-like that," Leon groans. Not even in his wildest dreams he thought he would have your pretty lips around his cock. And it feels much better than he imagined in any of his fantasies.

You start to move your head down Leon's length as you go deep into your throat, and Leon thinks he can't survive much of this. Leon looks down at you, pulling your dress down and your bra up much rougher than he intended to expose your boobs. Surprised, you moan as Leon places his hand on the top of your head, keeping you moving. 

Your boobs are finally in his view, and he can't believe it. They are exactly as he remembers. Leon watches you rub your legs against each other when he gropes one of them. He could cum like that.

Leon starts bobbing your head up and down, trying to keep his moan as low as possible. The small locker room is filled with his whimpers, and you know you will never forget about them. He is rough but gentle at the same time, making sure you are not gagging and leaving you space to breathe.

"I am clo-close. So close," Leon stutters, and you think you heard that voice somewhere before. "I want to cum all over your boobs."

You nod, your wetness asking for your attention, but focusing on Leon for now. When Leon thinks he is close, he pulls his dick out of his mouth with a plop, and Leon releases his cum all over your tits and bra. You watch, astonished, as the man in front of cums, moaning loud. The only thing you can properly see is his blue eyes rolling, making sure he covers your boobs with his cum.

When he is done, he looks down at you, his breath noisy against the mask. Leon's breath hitches when he sees your index finger pass on top of his cum and take it to your lips, licking it clean. 

Oh, you wanted to kill him.

With a sudden shot of lust into his blood veins, he lifts you up and makes you turn around. On all fours for him, legs spread apart, your hands support themselves in the walls before you. You are soaked, Leon notices, soaked because of him. When Leon places a warm hand against your ass, a sudden knock on the door makes you both jump.

"Hey? Is someone here still?" The voice of the manager of the place sounds curious by the door.

Silence.

You hear the insistent knock, looking at Leon over your shoulder. He lifts his hand up, motioning for you to stay silent.

"Still here," Leon answers.

"Going to lock the building in less than ten minutes, man! Hurry up!"

"I will be out soon!" Leon answers.

The steps start going away, and you suddenly remember Ingrid. Has she even left? With all strength in the world, you straighten up, your hands going to your bag. There were at least three missing calls from her and five text messages wondering where you are. Decided, you start organizing yourself, not even looking at the man before you. You look around for a towel or anything you can clean yourself, and Leon offers you one. 

"Thanks." You clean your boobs, deciding what to do about your bra. With a sudden decision, and to make you remind you of him, you take it off, placing it on his hand. You smirk as he stares at you. "So, you can remember tonight. Remember me."

You pull your dress up, and Leon watches as your nipples hard against the fabric. He doesn't want you to go, he wants to touch you more, but Leon occupies himself, pullings his underwear and jeans up. You two stare at each other for a moment before you nod.

"Well. It was nice, mhm fun."

Say something, Leon. Say anything. Don't let her go like that. Leon doesn't say anything, simply watching you leave, a little disappointed, the door closing behind you with a click.

Leon throws the mask away, finally giving a good breath. His forehead is sweaty, and he could barely breathe on that thing. The back against the cold locker calms him. Leon finishes organizing himself, feeling a little sad you didn't recognize him from before. How would he be if he was wearing a mask? Leon didn't want to be recognized. Leon shakes his head, ignoring the sad feelings on his chest. He let himself go too far.

It is time to forget you.

-x-

Ingrid is sitting down by the parking lot alone. You apologize a hundred times, and she is furious, thinking you got killed or kidnapped before she calls the rideshare app. You promise you will pay her back when you see a motorcycle coming out at the side of the building. 

The man wears a dark helmet, and you just know by the clothes that this is the model you gave a blowjob. He seems to stop, watching you two alone in the parking lot, his leg on the ground. Again, that familiar feeling is in your chest. He seems to be waiting on something, his stare focused on you and Ingrid. Like he is keeping an eye on you and Ingrid, all alone in that parking lot, late at night.

"Come on, it is here! No more letting you out of my sight tonight!" Ingrid grabs you by the arm. You shot one last look at him before getting into the car.

With a sudden realization and the motorcycle passing fast in the opposite direction, you remember why you felt so familiar: the model had the exact eyes of Officer Leon Kennedy.

[praisethegabs]

AKRASIA

ID!Professor!Leon Kennedy x Student!F!Reader

euphoria masterlist

summary: you met him during a party, and it was a one night stand for both of you. (un)fortunately, it turns out he's your new college history professor, and neither of you expected that.

warnings: age gap, reader is in college and in mid 20s while Leon is in his 30s. NSFW content, delicate to rough sex, p in v, oral receiving (both), praise kink, degradation kink (eventually), use of pet names (bunny), vaginal fingering, masturbation, cum swallowing, dom!leon and sub!reader. leon is insecure af. oc named chloe as the reader's best friend.

word count: 5684k

a/n: this is a new mini series I'm writing since I had a hard time with creative blocking, and I'm taking this very slow just in case.

AKRASIA is the state of mind in which someone acts against their better judgment through weakness of will.

You sat in your cozy room in the apartment you shared with your best friend, Chloe. The pale evening light casts a warm glow over the mismatched posters adorning the walls. Your textbooks were spread out across your desk, a mountain of assignments awaiting your attention. But Chloe, your vivacious best friend, had other plans.

"Come on, my lovely pumpkin," Chloe pleaded, tossing a colorful scarf around your neck as she perched on your bed. "You can't spend another Thursday night buried in textbooks. It's the first college party of the semester, and you've been MIA for weeks!"

"Chloe, you know I have that history essay tomorrow morning. I can't afford to waste any more time." You sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"But it's not just any party, it's Jake's party! He's practically begged me to convince you to go. And you know he's got a major crush on you." Chloe's bright green eyes twinkled with mischief as she leaned closer.

Your cheeks flushed at the mention of Jake, the charismatic guy from your history class. You had caught him stealing glances at you during lectures, but you were too wrapped up in your studies to think much of it. Besides, you already had your share of a "bad girl" period. Now, you need to finish your obligations.

"I don't know, Chloe," you hesitated, twirling a pencil between your fingers. "I feel so out of my element at those parties. I used to get drunk just for fun, but I don't do that anymore"

"Sis, that's what makes you unique. Besides, I promise you'll have fun. And who knows, maybe Jake will be your study partner for that history essay or whatever you need. It's a win-win!" Chloe chuckled, tousling her auburn curls.

You bit your lip, torn between your dedication to your academics and the allure of a night filled with laughter, music, and maybe even a spark of romance. You glanced at your textbooks, then back at Chloe's eager expression.

"Okay, Chloe. I'll go to the party. But only for a couple of hours, and you owe me a serious study session tomorrow." Finally, with a hesitant smile, you relented.

"Deal! Now, let's get you ready. You're going to look stunning, and I promise you won't regret this." Chloe's face lit up with triumph as she jumped off the bed.

As you both began raiding your closet for the perfect outfit, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement mixed with a touch of nervousness. Little did you know, this college party would mark the beginning of an unforgettable chapter in your life.

After a shower, you stood in front of the full-length mirror, twirling in your black cocktail dress. Your reflection grinned back at you, the dimples on your cheeks deepening as you admired your outfit. The cocktail dress that Chloe picked up for you, which she said it looks beautiful on you. She was perched on the edge of your bed, her perfectly curled auburn hair cascading over her shoulders.

"You look amazing, sweetie" Chloe gushed, adjusting her own outfit. "This party is going to be epic!"

"Thanks, Chloe. I can't believe you really convinced me to go to this college party." You laughed, the excitement bubbling within you.

Just then, your phone chimed with a familiar notification tone. You picked it up, your heart sinking as you saw the message. It was from Matthew, your ex-boyfriend. The name alone sent a shiver down your spine.

"What is it?" Chloe asked, her eyebrows furrowing with both concern and curiosity since you had a strange expression on your face.

"Hey, I know it's been a while, but can we talk? It's important." You sighed, your fingers trembling slightly as you read the message out loud.

"Oh no, not him again. What does he want now?" Chloe's expression shifted from excitement to concern, her voice sounding annoyed for a moment. She really hated your ex.

You chewed your lower lip, feeling torn between responding and ignoring the message. You hadn't spoken to Matthew since your messy breakup a few months ago. Your relationship had ended in bitter arguments and hurtful words.

"I don't know," you replied, your voice wavering. "Maybe it's something urgent. I should at least find out."

"Honey, I've been looking forward to this party for weeks, and I had a lot of trouble to convice you to join me. You can't let him ruin our night. Besides, he had his chance to talk when you needed it." Chloe shook her head, her green eyes filled with worry, and her face with evident disapproval. She really cared about you.

You sighed again. It was really difficult to put your past behind, especially after everything you had with Matthew.

"Look, you go first, and I'll meet you there." You glanced at Chloe, hoping she would give up and just leave you to take care of your ex-boyfriend on your terms.

"Do you promise?" Chloe asks, with those big green and puppy eyes, which she did every time she wanted something.

"Yep, I promise." You nod your head and smile when Chloe screams like a little girl, hugging you tight.

As you watch Chloe leave your shared apartment, your entire attention returns to your screen. You felt a wave of buried feelings returning slowly, leaving you with the hard choice in hands. You hesitated, your phone still in your hand. You knew Chloe was right, but curiosity gnawed at you.

"I'll just send a quick reply. Let him know I can't talk right now." You muttered to yourself, deciding what was best for you at the moment. You typed out a short message, your fingers tapping the screen rapidly. "Can't talk now, Matthew. At a party. We'll talk later."

But as soon as you hit send, your phone chimed again, this time with a call from Matthew. You watched the screen light up with his name and number. Your heart raced, torn between answering and turning it off.

Instantly, you pictured the image of Chloe in front of you and what she would say at this very moment. She would, of course, curse him a lot, and then, as your best friend, she would say something like, "Ignore it, honey. You made your choice. Let's not let him ruin our night"

And again, she was completely right.

As you entered the place, the pulsating beat of music washed over you, drowning out the noise of your own doubts. The college party was in full swing, with colorful lights flashing in time with the rhythm, creating a kaleidoscope of patterns on the walls.

You weaved your way through the crowd, your heart pounding with anticipation and a hint of anxiety. Your best friend, Chloe, had convinced you to attend, promising a night of unforgettable fun. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for Chloe's familiar face amidst the sea of strangers.

You finally spotted Chloe near the makeshift bar, holding two red plastic cups filled with a mysterious concoction. Chloe grinned when she saw you and waved you over. Chloe joined you, your tension slowly giving way to excitement.

"Oh, you made it!" Chloe shouted over the music, handing you a cup. "This is the famous 'party punch.' Drink up!"

You hesitated for a moment, then took a cautious sip. The sweet, fruity mixture danced on your taste buds, and you couldn't help but smile. Chloe always had a knack for finding the best drinks.

Feeling the alcohol mess with your mind and following the rhythm of the music, you two chatted and laughed as the night went on, your voices blending with the raucous sounds of the party. You watched as people swayed to the music, their bodies moving in sync with the beat. It was a wild and chaotic scene, but there was an undeniable energy that you couldn't resist.

"Come on, let's dance!" You grabbed Chloe's hand, leading your way to the crowd, letting your body follow the flow.

You swayed to the beat of the music, your body moving sensually with the rhythm as colorful lights flashed around you. The college party was in full swing, the pounding music reverberating through the entire place as students danced and mingled. You, feeling adventurous and carefree due to the alcohol in your organism, held a red plastic cup in one hand and scanned the crowd for someone intriguing. Your eyes settled on a tall, ruggedly handsome man who stood out from the rest of the college-aged crowd.

As you glanced around the people, your eyes met those of a striking man across the dance floor.

He was, obviously, a few years older than the typical partygoer, exuded an air of maturity that drew your attention. He leaned against the wall, his brown hair falling effortlessly over his forehead, and his piercing blue eyes scanning the room with a hint of amusement. He was an enigmatic figure who seemed to easely blend into the college scene while maintaining an air of mystery. For a moment, you thought he was too old to be there, but can you blame the man for wanting some fun? Despite the age, he was very handsome.

And his eyes were locked specifically on you.

Your eyes locked for a moment, and you felt a flush of warmth spread across your cheeks. You couldn't believe that this stranger was actually looking at you. A burst of self-confidence surged within you, urging you to take action.

You couldn't resist the urge to approach him, so you casually sauntered over, a playful smile curving your lips. You didn't let their age gap deter you; after all, age was just a number, right?

With the music pulsing through your ears, you decided to seize the opportunity. Hopefully, you could put the blame on alcohol and say you weren't thinking right — despite the fact that you weren't that drunk. You made your way through the crowd, not even seeing Chloe around, your heart pounding in your chest as you approached him. The closer you got, the more you noticed his rugged charm and the intensity in his piercing blue eyes.

"Hey there," you said, your voice carrying a hint of confidence as you leaned closer to be heard over the music. "You seem like you're in the wrong party. This crowd is usually reserved for broke college kids."

"Hey," he replied, his voice just loud enough to be heard. He then leaned in closer, his expression intrigued but slowly changing. Leon turned his attention to you, a bemused smile playing on his lips. "Well, maybe I'm just here for the youthful energy. It's refreshing."

You laughed, your eyes sparkling.

"Or maybe you're just trying to relive your college days." you said, taking another generous sip on your drink. At this point, you weren't caring about anything else.

"What makes you think I'm not still in college?" Leon raised an eyebrow, his expression teasing.

"Because I've been around here long enough to recognize someone who's seen a few more semesters than the rest of us." You chuckled between another sips, leaning even closer, your faces just inches apart.

"You're perceptive, aren't you?" Leon's lips curled into a grin, and he took a sip from his own cup.

"I have my moments. So, Mr. Mysterious, what brings you to our humble party tonight?" You nodded, your flirtatious energy in full swing. At this point, you were regretting your decision to stop with alcohol because you could never talk to a man like him the way you were doing.

"Well, I heard there was someone here I couldn't resist meeting. Looks like I found her." Leon's eyes held a glint of intrigue as he leaned in slightly.

Your heart skipped a beat at his response, your flirtatious banter taking an unexpectedly genuine turn.

"You're quite the charmer, aren't you?" You asked him, feeling a sudden heat rush over your body like a wave.

"Only when I'm talking to someone as captivating as you." Leon leaned in a bit closer, his breath warm against your ear.

After a few more drinks and flirts, you decided to ask what was eating you inside. Of course, in the next morning, you wouldn't remember anything, and you could live without regrets. Chloe was having fun with a bunch of friends, so why couldn't you just do the same? You were so horny at this moment that you were willing to have fun.

"So, it was my impression, or were you practically eating me while I was dancing?" You provoked him, drinking another sip from whatever Chloe said it was.

He almost spit his drink, completely shocked by your question. The old man looks at you with curiosity, but then, a slight smirk appears on his lips. Those beautiful blue eyes that never left yours made your body shiver, and that smile, well... that smile of him almost ripped yourself in two parts.

"How presumption of yours, huh?" He replied, still smiling, his lips meeting his glass again.

"It wasn't presumption, it was true," you said back, sounding cocky; you didn't care, and you had the balls to do so.

"Well, I might have done that. Who knows?" He says, his voice softly husky, almost low, like he did on purpose to provoke you.

"Well, lucky for you, I might have enjoyed that," you said, leaning closer to his ear, enough to whisper to him and enough to make him smile.

It was amazing what alcohol did to you. Honestly, you weren't this type of slutty horny girl, but let's face the truth; your ex-boyfriend was an asshole and the last time you had sex with someone with your age, it was a terrible experience. Maybe someone older could handle the job well? And besides, you both knew you wouldn't see each other again.

"You know, this party is fun, but I have a feeling the night could get even better." He leaned closer, his voice a soft murmur in your ear, and he seemed to think the same as you.

"Oh, really? And what do you have in mind?" You turned to him, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes.

Leon grinned, his confidence growing as your connection deepened.

"How about we leave this noisy place and head to my apartment? It's not far from here, and we can continue our conversation without shouting over the music." He suggests, and you had the certain he was thinking the same thing you were.

You hesitated for a moment, weighing your options. The party was completely wild at this point. Everyon, with no exceptions, seemed drunk enough, but the prospect of spending more time with this stranger and handsome man seemed far more appealing. Plus, there was an undeniable attraction that had been simmering between you two all night.

"You know what? I think that's a great idea. Lead the way." You replied with a playful smile and finally decided what you wanted.

Leon offered his hand, and you took it, allowing him to guide you through the lively crowd. You both made your way out of the crowded house and into the cool night air. The stars above shone brightly, and the distant sounds of the party slowly faded into the background.

As you two walked together, Leon couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. The decision to invite you to his place had been a bold one, but it seemed like the right choice. The night was filled with possibilities, and he was eager to explore where it would lead.

When you both reach his place, it's just a matter of seconds before he grabs you by your thighs, pinning up against the wall, kissing your neck desperately. Your hands meet his hair, holding so tight that between his kisses, he groans a little.

"God, you're so beautiful" he moans softly, leaving marks on your skin, to remember you that he was there.

"Stop talking, handsome" you said, now biting his earlobe, making him moan again. You were feeling something between your legs, and you couldn't tell if it was yours or his. "And just fuck me"

"That's what I intend to do" he whispers, still holding you by your thighs, leading you to his room, not caring about the mess he did along the way.

Your body falls graciously on his mattress, and he removes your black dress, throwing it somewhere inside his room. He removes his belt so quickly, like he really wanted this. You can see his cock inside his underpants, which makes you smile.

"Do you like the view, huh?" He provoked, sucking his fingers and making them touch your already wet pussy. "Is this all for me?"

"Shit" you moan louder when you feel his fingers circling around your pussy, tasting you. You sighed with pleasure, leaning back your head, biting your lower lip.

"Don't worry, we have all night" he whispers, his wet lips meeting your skin between kisses, making your body joint and shiver.

You feel him sucking and licking your left niple, his hand holding your other breast while his other hand was still circling slowly your clit. Your moans were so loud, so pornographic that you knew his neighbor would here your scandal. But God have mercy, he was very talented with his hands.

And then, without any warnings, you finally feel him inside, slowly sliding between your legs. You groan, letting him know you needed time to adjust to his size. Your nails found their way into his skin, leaving scratches that would take time to heal — a reminder about this night.

When you feel comfortable enough with him, you nod slightly, and he starts to move between your legs, penetrating you so softly and yet so caring. His eyes observe you, sometimes his lips meeting yours in a smooth kiss, and sometimes moaning in your ear.

You follow his pace, and when you notice, he's moving faster inside you. One of his hands holding yours so tight that it's almost impossible to escape his grip — which you don't intend to do. You wouldn't mind be his bitch for a night.

"You're taking me so well" he moans again, leaving marks on your breasts and smiling as his hips hit yours harder.

"Oh, fuck..." you moan again, biting your lower lip and closing your eyes, already feeling a wave of pleasure running through your body.

"Oh, be a good girl for me" he teases, his free hand circling your clit again, making your body joint.

And he kept teasing you for a very long time. Each time you were close to orgasm, he stopped what he was doing to make you beg for him and your pleas were almost insignificant to him, despite the fact that he was enjoying seeing you beg to cum.

"Please, let me cum" you begged again after the fifth time he denied your orgasm. You were almost crying at this point, unable to hold the ache in your pussy. "I need you, please"

"Such a baby girl begging for me" he said, smiling and starting to circle you clit again, making you whine. "I'll let you cum if you take me in your mouth right now"

He stood up on the edge of his bed and you crawled into him, opening your mouth to put his cock inside, sucking him while your hands massaged his balls. You can hear him moan, grabbing your hair to force you to keep sucking him. You started to tear up, gasping while his cock was inside your mouth.

He didn't care.

You kept sucking him until he released his cum inside your mouth and he didn't had to say anything. You swallowed him, like the good girl you were. And with his smile of approval, you knew you earned your time. He made you lay back in his bed and started to suck your clit, tasting yourself in his mouth.

"So good" he said, holding your thighs against his shoulders, sucking you, licking your wet pussy.

"S-shit" you moan again, holding his sheets with violence, wanting desperately to cum on him. Your moans get higher and again, you started to feel the warm pleasure in your body.

"Cum for me, baby" he orders smoothly again, giving the attention you required, his tongue doing such a great work on you.

Finally, with his approval, you had the liberty to release yourself. You felt something hot coming out of you at the same time that your body reached the peek and you finally had the orgasm of your life. You had to control yourself, your body almost collapsing while his mouth was still between your thighs.

And after you had your orgasm, releasing your cum on him, he smiled at you, licking his lips to savor you and then crawling his way to your side on his bed.

"You're okay?" He asks, going to his bathroom to grab paper to help you clean yourself. "I hope I wasn't that hard"

"You kidding me?" You ask him, cleaning yourself from the mess he did. "You were great, I'm impressed"

The moonlight cast a soft glow through the curtains, filling the room with a gentle, silver light. Leon and you were laying side by side on the cozy, disheveled sheets, your breathing slowly returning to normal.

Leon turned toward you, his eyes filled with tenderness as he reached out to stroke your hair, his touch feather-light.

"Are you okay, really?" he whispered, his voice filled with concern.

You smiled, your eyes shining with a mixture of contentment and affection.

"I'm more than okay. That was... amazing." You said honestly to him. And it was entirely true; despite his age, he was the best sex you ever had.

Leon's smile mirrored yours as he continued to run his fingers through your hair, tracing soothing patterns along your back.

"I'm so glad to hear that," he said. "But I want to make sure you're comfortable. Is there anything you need right now?" He asks, sounding curious and kind. You felt he came from a fairytale. He was too good to be real.

You thought for a moment, then shook your head.

"I just need you here with me, like this."

"I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere," he promised. Leon leaned in and kissed your forehead gently, his lips warm and reassuring.

You two lay together in comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow of their intimate moment. Leon's caring touch and reassuring presence were all the aftercare you needed, a reminder that your connection ran deeper than the physical. As you both drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, you knew that this bond was something truly special, despite the fact that you both also knew it wouldn't happen again.

As the first rays of morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, you groaned and slowly opened your eyes. The unfamiliar surroundings of Leon's apartment briefly disoriented you until the events of the previous night came flooding back into your memory. You'd met him at the party you went with your best friend, and one thing had led to another. Now, you were here, alone in his apartment.

With a groggy sigh, you pushed yourself into a sitting position, rubbing your temples to soothe the pounding headache. Your mouth felt like a desert, a testament to the amount of alcohol you'd consumed the night before. Your bleary eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of Leon.

A folded piece of paper on the coffee table caught your attention. You reached for it, your fingers trembling slightly, and unfolded the note. Leon's neat handwriting greeted you:

"Hey, stranger. I hope you slept well. I had to head to work early, but I didn't want to wake you. There's coffee brewing in the kitchen to help with your hangover, and I left some pain relievers on the counter. Make yourself at home. There's my number if you need anything. Leon"

You couldn't help but smile. Despite the awkwardness of waking up in a stranger's apartment, Leon's thoughtfulness warmed your heart. You stumbled out of bed and followed the scent of freshly brewed coffee to the kitchen.

As you sipped the steaming cup of coffee, the pounding in your head began to subside. The pain relievers helped, too. You glanced at your phone and gasped when you saw the time. You were so late for your college classes.

With newfound energy, you left your phone number on his desk and rushed back to the bedroom, desperately searching for your scattered clothes. You managed to piece together an outfit from the items you found strewn across the floor. It was far from your usual put-together look, but it would have to do.

Once dressed, you scribbled a quick note of thanks to Leon and left it on the kitchen counter. You grabbed your bag and dashed out of his apartment, promising yourself you'd explain everything when you saw him again.

As you hurried to catch a bus to your college, you couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected turn of events. Meeting Leon had been a whirlwind, and while your head still throbbed with the remnants of a hangover, you couldn't deny the spark of excitement and curiosity that had ignited between the two of you.

As you ran down the hall, your heart raced with anxiety. You knew you were late for your history class, but your unexpected encounter the night before had left you disoriented and sleep-deprived. With your disheveled hair and the remnants of last night's makeup still on your face, you approached the classroom door. The chattering of your fellow students stopped abruptly when you entered.

The professor, his back turned to the door, continued writing on the chalkboard. You sighed with relief, hoping you hadn't disrupted the class too much. You scanned the room, searching for an empty seat. Most of your fellow students had already found their places, and the only available desk was in the front row.

You tiptoed down the aisle, trying to make as little noise as possible, and took a seat at the front. The professor turned around, ready to begin his lecture. When your eyes met, your heart dropped into your stomach. It was Leon, the man you had met at the college party the night before, the one you had shared an unforgettable night with.

"Fuck" you muttered in surprise, your face going red like a tomato.

Leon's expression changed from one of stern concentration to one of recognition and shock. You felt your face flush with embarrassment as you realized that he was your history professor. The sounds of your obscenes moans echoed inside your head. You wanted to evaporate.

"Good morning, miss" he said, his voice tinged with surprise, but trying to sound polite. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I...I didn't realize this was your class," you stammered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

The rest of the class watched the exchange with keen interest. You could feel their curious eyes on you. Leon cleared his throat and attempted to regain his composure.

"Well, since you're here, you might as well stay," he said, attempting to sound professional despite the awkwardness of the situation. "We'll discuss your tardiness later. Now, let's begin our lesson on the American Revolution."

As the class continued, you tried your best to focus on the lecture, but your mind kept wandering back to the night you had spent with him. It was going to be a long semester, filled with more than just history lessons.

At the end of his class, you were so nervous that you felt you could explode right there. Leon hesitated as he watched you from across his desk, where he had papers and books strewn haphazardly. Your presence filled the room with an electric tension, one he couldn't deny any longer. You were his student, and you both knew the boundaries you both had crossed were dangerous. And when everyone left his room, you stood up to leave as well, until you heard his voice.

"Sit down," he said, his voice trembling slightly as he gestured to the chair in front of him. You took a seat, your eyes locking onto his, searching for answers.

You never felt this nervous before. You were shaking, and your palms were sweating cold. You wanted to disappear forever.

"We need to talk about last night," Leon began, his gaze never leaving yours. "What happened between us was a mistake, and I shouldn't have allowed it to happen."

Your lips quivered, but you remained silent.

"I'm your professor, and you're my student. It's against the rules, and it's unethical. I can't let this continue." Leon continued, his voice softer but resolute.

You looked down, your fingers nervously playing with the edge of your notebook.

"I know, Leon," you finally replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't deny that I felt something for you. It's more than just physical attraction."

Leon's heart ached at her words, his inner struggle evident. God, this was so wrong, and yet, his mind was a battle over what was right and what was wrong. He couldn't deny he felt something for you too — something he thought he would never feel again.

"You don't understand, I like you too," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I also care about your future, and I can't jeopardize it."

You raised your eyes to meet his once more, tears glistening.

"What are we going to do, then?" You asked, feeling sad and, somehow, pathetic. You met him the night before, then why were you feeling like this?

Leon sighed, his resolve crumbling.

"I don't know" he confessed, his voice filled with regret. "But we need to find a way to move past this and focus on your education."

Your eyes locked in a shared moment of vulnerability, the unspoken desire still simmering beneath the surface. Leon had tried to convince you it was wrong, but his feelings for you were undeniable. The battle between his heart and his principles had only just begun.

"I think it's for the best if we keep this as it should be. I don't want to risk anything" Leon said, his voice sounding sad for a moment. "And I'm sorry, but we can't see each other like that again"

You nod and then leave his class. You made your way back to your apartment, wanting a shower, because you felt you could drown yourself in the water and forget everything that happened. He was your professor. You knew it was wrong, but for God's sake, why him? Why did he have to take you to heaven and then throw cold water on your head?

"What the hell happened?" You heard Chloe ask as soon as you enter your apartment. You completely forgot about her.

"I met someone last night" you explained, avoiding details. You were still feeling the effects of the hungover.

"Really? I bet it was good... you didn't even come back home, you naughty girl" Chloe teases you, laughing. "Have you heard about the new history professor? He's really hot"

"Yeah, I got late for his class" you sighed, laying on your bed with Chloe right behind you, excited about the new professor. If she only knew...

"No shit? Lucky you, he's cool. I've heard he was at the party last night and left with someone. I wish I was that lucky" Chloe kept saying, sitting on the small armchair in your room.

"And they saw who this person was?" You asked in panic, suddenly glancing at your best friend, which you regretted immediately.

"No fucking way... it was you!" Chloe almost screams, surprised and then, throwing a pillow on your face. "I can't believe you were banging the new professor!"

"In my defense, I didn't know!" You said, defending yourself. Deep down, Chloe didn't care. She wanted to see you happy. "I found out this morning... but it's okay. He doesn't want to see me"

"Too bad for him. You're too much for him, anyway" Chloe smirks, being the supportive friend you needed.

Chloe always had the ability to make you feel better with few words. You were really thankful for having her; so, you decided to do what he wanted. For the next few weeks, you watched his classes and noticed that, sometimes, he was glancing at you.

How could you both forget that night?

It was almost impossible. He made you feel so fucking good and you wanted so bad to be with him again. You even fantasized having him fucking you all over again, making you completely his. God, this was very hard. They've always said you will always want more intensely what you can't have, and they are so right about that.

And then, after one month since that party, Leon couldn't avoid that anymore.

He felt the urgency to talk to you, to smell your perfume or see your smile. He was going insane for not having you the way he did that day. Why was he feeling like that? He couldn't tell. But it felt good.

"May I have a word with you after class? It's about your essay" Leon says, closer to you and sounding very professional.

"Yes, Mr. Kennedy" You nod your head, already feeling your heart skipping a few beats and your body shaking again.

That was it.

After class, you remained sitting, waiting for your colleagues to leave his room. He avoided your eyes until there were just the two of you. Your breath was heavy, and instantly, you were feeling the heat on your body.

"What is it you want to talk with me?" You ask him, breathing nervously.

Leon gets closer to you, enough to make your body shiver. You look at his blue eyes and the image of him fucking you plays in your head like a movie.

"I shouldn't do this..." he whispers, his breath reaching your face smoothly. "But to be honest, I don't give a shit about morality anymore"

And then, he finally kissed you like he meant that.

It was everything you needed to know. He wanted you, and you wanted him. This could end bad for both of you, but you didn't care. You were weak, and he was weak as well. And right now, he wanted you more than anything.

[roseglazedlens]

⦑ THE FUCKING DEAD ⦒ RESOLUTION [PART 5]

➠ series masterlist | ⏪part 4 | ⏩part 6 |

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓┇𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑┇𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐅𝐈𝐂┇𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 LEON S. KENNEDY / CARLOS OLIVEIRA / JILL VALENTINE / ADA WONG X AFAB GN! READER As the rescue team retraces footsteps of their MIA agents, they find out the virus is more than what it appears. Waiting to be opened like a pandora's box inside this eerie mansion. NOTES: 🔞18+ READERS ONLY - NO MINORS🔞 descriptions of blood, zombies, injuries, death, realistic dolls, virus, fire weapons, rotten food, and mould. mentioned pegging. many action elements, a little closer to the plot reveal. includes two minor oc's in the unit. written in chris and rebecca's pov (reader is mentioned, not present). 8.7 k words | reblogs appreciated!

EMPLOYEE QUARTERS – 3:02 AM.

Who knows since when, the front door entered by the last squad is bolted shut, windows on the first and second floor barred. Inspection around the perimeter reports none of the side doors can be budged. Except one, secretly veiled away through a narrow, overgrown path only accessible from the backstreet.

An inconspicuous door can be found at the end of the passage, made of the same stone brick wall attached onto the thick mahogany door, vines enshrouding the exterior.

Presumably, this is the employee’s entrance. Much less glorious than the fountain driveway view where an imaginary doorman invites you into the residence by the ten-feet-tall double doors. This entry desperately needs weeding; the door is worn, rusted metal handles and weak hinges signal negligence in maintenance for years.

Chris, leading in first with his impromptu rescue squad of six, pushes down the copper handle, and lets it swing out. Wood squeaks slowly until the hinges fully extend, thudding serenely to a stop.

From within, a hollow void. Not a sound, nor a creak to be heard from the blackness of the echo chamber besides the six footsteps. A cold chill like a woman’s breath blows onto their necks from the outside, slowly swallowed by the thick odour of mildew and mould.

Someone rummages for a light switch, clicks it, and clicks it the other way again. Power’s out, of course. Chris presses on his earpiece, and just as he thought, communication to the outside is already fizzing into distortions. There will be no one from the outside to rescue them once they venture into the thick of this freak house.

They turn on the flashlight attachment on their rifles for convenience. It’s going to be difficult navigating through the dark, and vital for the unit to err on the side of caution. Who knows what ambushes Arias had conjured for an unwelcomed surprise, knowing his guarded nature.

“Agent Chambers. Do we have location?” Chris asks.

“I can’t track our exact location until the GPS is fixed. But I can tell you that the unit should be around south-east of the mansion according to their last known coordinates, which is approximately… that way.” Rebecca draws out an old-school compass from her pouch and points towards the left side of the hallway according to her device.

“Thank you, Chambers.” Chris states blankly. Rebecca taps her head down to acknowledge once. The air is damp with bitterness, only felt between them.

The front of the entrance invites them to a mudroom with a wide nook sweeping along the broads of the wall. The inner wood panel is enveloped by speckles of mould; more than half of the hangers are still occupied. Chris traces a thin sheet of dust along a puffer jacket.

“Captain, take a look at this.” A thick Hispanic accent gravels out. The figure behind Chris is almost as tall as himself. His face concealed but his personality undeniable focused and direct. Chris vaguely remembers the man’s name through a rushed introduction, Gabriel, sent by B.S.A.A.’s South American branch as a gesture of goodwill.

Gabriel points to the vague darkness behind himself. Chris turns away from the racks, directed into the lounge room around the corner. It is adorned with modest furniture: a few couches, a television, openly connected to the kitchen, and long dining table.

Above the table, there lies a bitten sandwich with splotches of green mould, mugs drank only halfway and meals abandoned before they were done. Leaving the uncut vegetables, dairy, raw beef, as they were for the inhabitation of fungi.

Everyone in the room right now is grateful for Rebecca’s last-minute idea for the masks to give them some coverage for the stench.

“November 19. Tch, all the food had expired five months ago. What a waste, tch.” This voice is deeper in timbre than Gabriel’s with a tendency to click his tongue at any inconvenience. He must be the other assigned unit, Miguel.

“That week was the first A-Virus attack in the world.” Rebecca comments solemnly. Can there be such a coincidence?

“Whatever they had to do, they left in a hurry.” Chris glances around the room once more. What business could they have to evacuate so suddenly?

“A-Are they going to be o-okay?” Nerves are getting a hold of the rookie; the flashlight circle from Johnny’s rifle is visibly shuddering. “What if those m-m-monsters got to them?”

“Can’t be since there’s no struggle. Like they’d blipped in time.” Mike suggests the possibility by recreating the events with his free hand, even uttering a fainted pooof! drifting into the silence for sound effect.

“Nothing had been in and out of this place for a week. Whoever’s left might be starving.” Unless all the employees had left way earlier. But there is an aching dread in Chris’ gut that fears this may not be the case. Just like the other MIA agents who are somewhere in this lodging. There must be more to this story.

“Search for any survivors in the area and stay in line of sight. Don’t ever split up.” Chris orders, looking directly into the darkness of the narrow hallway beyond.

“Yes, Captain!” Five voices bark in response.

- - -

It feels like they had walked for an eternity, through a series of sharp turns, with no visual signs of the end, only mould growing thicker and thicker the further they venture. It was the same portrait, same console table, decorated by the same damned tablecloth over and over again.

On top of the white laced cloth, there is always a baby, barely three months old.

It shook Rebecca in the beginning until she notices the infant is completely still. It’s only a doll. A very realistic one at that, dressed from head to toe in pink and frills.

After what seems like the tenth doll, the discomfort in her brews whenever Rebecca passes by. She can’t help but notice how glassy their eyes, how those irises and pupils look too damn realistic. Like real human eyes, staring. Like it can cry. Every time light hits those pearly beads, whatever light the darkness can spare anyway, Rebecca swears the doll is looking directly at her each time. She wonders if she had gone crazy.

Perhaps it was one of Arias’ secret hobbies… like Arias’ pegging fetish she unfortunately discovered in the depths of a gossip forum. Hey, it’s not her place to say what a billionaire can or can’t do for recreation if it isn’t harming anyone… besides his own crack, maybe.

That took her mind off the creepy temporarily. Nobody else seem to mind, or if they did, they didn’t say a thing. Chris in particular—his mind never left the objective.

“Anyone home? This is B.S.A.A. We’re looking for survivors. Any survivors? Survivors, please show yourself.” Chris announces their presence at every door that meets him along the corridor, bellowing out to make survivors known of their rescue.

But only the echo of himself returns his call, corridor after corridor, room after room, in the humble living quarters that is nothing more than a bunk bed and two desks. Not a soul nor a zombie in sight. But they haven’t given up yet. There is still plenty of the mansion unexplored.

The next door they encounter is different, standing out prominently against the rest with its steel surface, while the rest mahogany wood. And despite this whole area already zoned off from general access, a sinister sign on top warns that this place is off limits to even most employees.

The six of them look at each other and decide silently in unison to investigate inside.

LABORATORY – 3:17 AM

Chris is the first to enter the laboratory, stepping inside the darkness without hesitation to encourage his subordinates to follow suit without fear. Some sticky sensation is caught between their soles, leaving their every footstep. Mike notices first, and he aims his flashlight onto the ground.

Blood red pools, splattered across the bleached tiles in trails like spider lilies, painted across white coats of motionless bodies only several feet away from them… fifty of them. Beyond that, a daring splash of struggle across the mighty propane tank hulking over the centre of the laboratory.

Rebecca winces at the sight; her first time witnessing such a bloodshed. Chris notices, bringing a step forward to shield her from the sight.

“What the fuck happened here…” Chris growls. Before he can take another bloodied step, he hears someone making a retched groan.

It was Johnny, tightening his vocals to hold back a scream, but instead, it erupts into a high pitch shriek of fear instead.

The bodies react to the sound, starting to move. At first, only slight like the trick of an eye. Then, the torsos rise in isolation, head turning slow almost 180 degrees, eyes affixed on the intruders. Their skin ashen grey, veins and arteries pop out freshly, where the stench is the most putrid here.

All six soldiers ready their rifles. Avoiding big movements, slowing their limbs backwards to the way out. The zombie hoard of many dozens in front of them matches their pace, unsure whether friend or enemy.

Something falls. Slipping away from Rebecca’s back pocket, a metallic cylinder case—long and thin, that a ballpoint pen will fit perfectly inside. It crashes onto the floor, a light thud. But in the quiet room with nothing but hostile hisses and crackling of bones, the zombies pounce at the same time at the sign of confirmation.

Gunshots fire, without restraint, bullets whizzing across the room, taking aim. Shots pierce into the desaturated skin, but no blood manifests from those wounds. The water source that pumps into their hearts had dried up a long time ago. Even bullets hitting directly into the skull merely stuns them temporarily, and they rise back onto their feet in no time.

The unit is very effective and spares little ammunition for the unnecessary—but they are solely six humans in an army of undead. They can’t hold them off forever. If they are cornered, that’s it.

Rebecca, however, has her eyes set on something else instead of the massacre in front of her.

My case…. Where is my case! She thinks as her eyes dart around the ground in desperation, between legs and fallen bodies. Something shiny under a chair peeks out in the corner of her eye.

There it is! Despite every fibre of her gut opposing her, Rebecca advances further inside to retrieve it at all costs. She doesn’t dare to stray her eyes away from the container, fearing it will escape her again. Someone kicks it; the metal leaps and rolls near the lab console next to the large cylinder tank.

She makes her way over and tries to lay her rifle on top of the console. It slides due to its slanted surface, so she leans her rifle against the tank for support.

Some of Rebecca’s right palm brushes the metal sheet, and immediately, a stinging heat like a million thorns set her hand ablaze. She flings her arm away, winces, and notes the parts of skin that contacted the tank is patched red with small cysts forming.

The propane tank can easily fit 200 gallons inside. With closer observation, she can hear the flow of water bubbling, churning in its mechanism, pushing out steaming sounds. Rebecca notes that the tank is connected by ductwork.

“What’re you doing, Rebecca!?” Chris explodes, and Rebecca jolts in place, bringing her consciousness back to the present where she remembers they are amid a zombie attack.

She plants her entire body flat onto the ground, detecting the cylinder stuck under the console through a thin gap. The console isn’t secured to the floor, so Rebecca tries budging it to no avail. It’s too heavy.

Rebecca shoves her arm into the gap; her fingers slid in successfully, but it’s stuck on the protruding bone of her wrist. She outstretches her fingers, the tip of it almost reaching the roundness she is seeking. She just needs a bit more distance.

“Rebecca! Out, now!” She can hear Chris warn from afar. “This is an order!”

“One second!” Rebecca thrusts in a bit harder, and a bit more of her wrist enters at the cost of rough friction scratching her wrist bone. Her nail catches it, and she rolls it underneath the pads of her fingers. Now she just needs to lea…

……Wait. Wait, wait, wait. She can’t leave. Her wrist is jammed. Rebecca can’t take it out even if she uses her entire body weight to lean against the pull. Her face is still planted and vulnerable.

Danger is advancing ever the closer. She can hear it even if she can’t see it. The irregular beats of staggering footsteps increase in volume, snarls getting curious. It won’t be long before she is discovered. But what other choice does Rebecca have now?

As if a sign from above, dim light starts to creep under the table as it lifts, freeing her wrist. Rebecca grabs the case securely into her hand and pulls it back.

Right behind her is Chris, forearm muscles pulsing in tension as he hoists the entire console, slamming it face first onto the two zombies eyeing at them both. They tumble backwards and groans.

Chris’ face darkens with rage, grabbing Rebecca’s shoulder around his arm as if to caution her reckless behaviours, and commands: “You. With me. Now.”

Rebecca, simply glad that she is still alive, nods and lets Chris pull her up in one forceful motion. As soon as Rebecca’s weight is back on her feet, he pushes her along with both arms, propping the rifle under his right arm, tunnelling his vision to the exit. But zombies are visible from all four corners. They are surrounded.

Abruptly, a cold arm wraps Chris from behind, ensnaring the captain in place to serve him on a platter to its zombie friends. Chris squeezes the rifle closer to his sides, and with the strength of his entire triceps, thrust the blunt edge of his bump stock into his assaulter’s torso. He can hear bones cracking, weakening, enough to free Chris of its tight grasp.

With practised ease, Chris adjusts his finger swiftly to the trigger; other hand over the handle in under a full second and fires at the next target leaping his way.

Rebecca wants to help Chris too. She presses down an empty space on her back. She had left her rifle next to the tank still. And now, the HK416 is idly resting behind five limping enemies with no intentions of letting her pass by.

That rifle is practically gone as far as she knows, so she unholsters her back-up pistol, her trusty Samurai’s Edge, tailored to her own needs and got her through thick and thin.

Rebecca knows she isn’t as much of a good shot as Chris is, lacking in almost a decade of combat experience behind Chris, but she kept up a fair deal of gun training and hand to hand combat during her research years for emergency purposes. And now, those skills are coming in handy.

Her shots are careful, only decisive ones of enemies that come between her way to the exit. Always looking over her blind spots in wariness because Rebecca knows one bite from a zombie is all it needs to take her out. She can’t be messing around here.

A zombie leaps directly into Rebecca as she heads checks, baring its fangs and curling its squirming fingers. Too close for a shot, she raises her arms to a block, tossing them aside when the pale hands advance closer to her neck. The nails are sharp, clawing into Rebecca’s skin as she shoves them away. Rebecca front kicks the thing away, and while it stumbles, gave her the perfect opportunity to take out its head in a burst shot.

But no matter how many enemies the two fended off, the path becomes more and more obscured by zombie heads and limbs, leaving no room for breath besides defending their own.

Gunshots other than their own starts firing around them. The other four comrades are clearing the way while guarding the exits.

“Captain! Rebecca!” Mike cries out.  

For a brief second, a window of opportunity surfaces, and their eyes catch sight of the clear line of exit between them and the zombies.

“Run! Just run!” Chris’ voice thunders over the gnarly crew of zombies.

But Rebecca didn’t need instructions for this one. They dash straight for the door, and when they passed, they didn’t stop either.

The others did a head start, already racing away; Chris and Rebecca eventually joining them at the end of the line, with Chris slamming the steel door in their enemies’ faces before he leaves. It will slow them briefly, but that won’t last forever.

The six of them sprint along the corridor, and a loud clang penetrates the air. Zombies had destroyed the entire metal door itself, following right behind, trying to overtake each other, despite the narrow width of the hallway that fits only two people side by side.

The hoard collides and tramples on each other, but their chase is relentless, showing no mercy until each and every one of their prey is devoured. Closing in distance, an inch at a time, but slowly and surely catching up to inevitable fatigued limbs of humans.

“W-We’re not going to make it, Ca-” Johnny, coming first in the sprint, sobs, but he isn’t allowed to slow down no matter even if his heavy backpack weighs him down, no matter how deep his leg sores. The sudden brake will trip everyone behind him, toppling his captain and colleagues together. And it will be all because of him. He can’t stop.

Chris can hear the stomping footsteps grow louder; he can feel it on the floor too, the wooden boards quaking in fury from withholding such strength and speed in the tight path. He turns his head, and the outreached arms of the zombies are within a few feet away from his own neck.

Chris had to think fast—no, don’t think. More time thinking means less action. They’re quickly approaching the end of the hallway several yards away, and beyond that darkness. It can be a dead end too, what then?

Till he hears a chime.

Tick, tick, tick.

He sees it. A grandfather clock propping up on the side of the wall, right before the cloud of darkness. Chris can use that.

First, it was Johnny who made it to the other side of the clock. Then Miguel, Gabriel. Then Rebecca. Then Mike. And when it was Chris turn, he spins his body 180 degrees, meeting the hoard eye to eye.

He claws all ten of his fingernails onto the intricate engravings into the heavy wood. With a heavy shove, pulls the entire seven feet tall clock sideways to barricade the corridor.

All can hear the break of the bell when it crashes and the mechanism within fails. The hourly melody starts playing abruptly in malfunction, failing its fundamental ability to read the current time. Only the crooked and solemn tone resonates throughout the hollow vicinity.

That won’t be enough. They can still crawl underneath, between and over the gaps of the wood. Chris readies aim between the gaps, waiting for the zombies to peek through.

But Chris can’t see any heads. Or any movement, matter of fact. They freeze at the call of the chimes, and after a few seconds, their bodies retreat. Over the gap, Chris can see zombies with their backs turned, returning into the darkness of the hallway once more like they were never there in the first place.

There is a moment of silence, first. A moment to catch their breath. But this moment doesn’t last when Chris storms towards Rebecca, grabbing her forearm, forcing her to take a backwards a step.

“What the fuck were you thinking? You coulda died!” Chris seethes with a face of pure rage; everyone clenches their fists in fear.

“C’mon now, Capt. Go easy on her.” Mike tries to stand between Chris and Rebecca, a valiant attempt to diffuse Chris’ temper, but is unsuccessful.

“No. There’s no need.” Rebecca assures him. This is something between her and her captain. Her own accountability she had decided to take on herself.

“Would you like to explain yourself?” Chris asks, his tone abrasive.

“It was important.” She tries to brush aside the issue. Rebecca can’t tell her about the metal case, not yet. He will be too protective about it.

Chris takes one big step to close the gap, she can feel the heat from his eyes scorching her.

“Chris! I need you to trust me on this!” Rebecca pleads, though it doesn’t provide the clarification Chris wanted at all.

“That’s Captain Redfield to you!” Chris roars, and all sounds turn still.

He pauses, immediately regretting his words and tone. Once again, Chris gazes directly into her eyes that displayed only sincerity. This isn’t like the open book personality Chris knows of her. Something is up. Something Rebecca doesn’t want to share. He can’t push her—what kind of person will that make him?

Only his final thought reaches her ears. “More important than your own life?”

The room turns silent. Rebecca’s answer says a lot without saying anything at all.

The grip tightens on her arm, and Rebecca flinches. This is when Chris sees the state of the arm he is grabbing—secondary burns, bruised wrist, and strips of fresh blood free-flowing from both arms.

“…Get her fixed up.” Chris releases the arm gently, so it doesn’t fall too hard, releasing out a heavy sigh that sounds older than his years.

“Roger, Captain.” Johnny lets down the backpack of supplies with relief.

“Anyone else injured?” Chris queries the group, significantly calmer since his reflection. He casts his eyes over everyone, deliberately avoiding Rebecca’s.

“I think I broke my foot.” Gabriel was running fine before, but after the adrenaline had died down, he begins to feel every pain on his leg. He now staggers and the injured foot is hovered slightly.

“Let me have a look.” Rebecca gets down onto her knees to examine the foot. She advises him to roll up his pant leg. The spot is swollen red and soft, and it flinches when touched. Rebecca asks him to move his ankle: he can’t.

“It’s a fracture. You might not be able to move your leg for a while.” Rebecca pats herself up. “Ice would be ideal here but nothing we can do now. There are some bandages in the first aid. That should help with the swelling.”

“Alrighty, I needa resupply anyway! Those zombies took quite a few mags.” Mike is already three magazines down in his front pouch.

Rebecca needs a resupply too; there should be spare rifle in there for emergencies. Her Samurai’s Edge is reliable, but she needs something stronger if she wants to survive the rest of this journey. She can’t risk turning back and aggravating the zombie hoard once more.

The fresh face unzips the backpack, reaching in. Initially, puzzled, then slowly morphs into the face of horror. His calm searching turns into frustrated shuffling, emptying out the contents of the bag one by one.

Lying on the ground are bags after bags of military rations, counting to fifty bags. After a while, he gives up. Everyone is fully aware now of his royal fuck up. Johnny had picked up the wrong backpack on his way in.

“Come on, rookie! You had one job!” Gabriel starts yelling, losing whatever composure he had just a moment ago.

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, sir!” repeats Johnny’s brittle apologies, fists trembling.

“Qué pinche pendejo eres… tch.” Miguel grumbles to himself, and as an act of self-comfort, massages his hand with each other and feeling the wedding ring on his hand.

“You motherfucker!” Gabriel tries to rise, and almost trips over his broken ankle when he finds it unsteady. Johnny rushes in to support him.

“Mind ya business!” Gabriel flails his arms at the poor child, before lowering himself down slowly through a strained grunt. “I’ve got a fucking broken leg here ‘cause of you! You shoulda be glad I can’t whoop your ass right now! Once this foot is working again, you’ll be sorry!”

“It’s not that bad, really…” Mike tries to console, but this time, it’s more a desperate attempt for self-reassurance.

“Stay out of this, American.” Gabriel snaps back.

“Enough. Both of you. We’ll find a way out of this.” Chris interrupts before things escalate too far.

“Tch. And what do you suggest, Captain?” Miguel scoffs.

There’s no point in changing what can’t be changed. They can only adapt to what they have not. Be it without supplies or ammo. There is always a way around, if it means taking things slow or conserving ammo for their future fights. However…

Chris peeks at Rebecca’s arm. Her skin is turning white from blood loss. She needs first aid, ASAP.

“Let’s look around. Maybe there are supplies.” Chris says.

“There better be. This leg’s not gonna fix itself.”

KITCHEN / LAUNDRY – 3:39 AM.

Johnny had offered to carry Gabriel, but he refused without sparing a glance at the rookie’s face. But he didn’t complain when Miguel haul him instead, all whilst announcing their passive aggression about incompetent American soldiers and how they can only trust each other.

Meanwhile, Chris is focused on getting problems solved than whining about them. There must be a weaponry, maybe medical supplies somewhere in this damn fancy house. If only he can figure out how this foreign layout works.

The end of the corridor spreads out into a large open space, giving them much needed room to explore and not bump into each other shoulder to shoulder. There is a kitchen if they continue straight, enough to fit an army of private chefs with a glass room of wine display proudly to the side.

And towards the right, there is a laundry room. Beside it, a door that hangs a sign: [STORAGE AREA]

Hopefully they will find what they need here.

STORAGE ROOM – 3:41 AM.

For a storage room, it is quite spacious. Cardboard boxes stack high to the ceiling around the room, labelled with its contained items: [CLEANING], [MEDICAL], [AMMUNITION]. They look around potential hiding spots for zombies: there is none. It seems like they are safe for now. And for that, the unit is relieved.

“Alright. Let’s get you fixed up.” Rebecca immediately starts rummaging through the medical drawer. Miguel carries and rests the injured onto a large cardboard box for his treatment, then finds himself in the ammunition box.

This detour is much welcomed by everyone. After restocking what they need, hope has returned—whatever they can afford in the present state of things—uncoiling the tension brewing inside each of the soldiers. Chris can even hear Mike’s good-humoured banter ripples a warm laugh through Gabriel and Miguel. And Johnny is chattering next to them.

Chris relaxes his guard too, finally, for the first time today. As captain, he is always expected to be one to straighten his subordinates. And he does. Sometimes even at the cost of having his emotions get to him. Like just now, with Rebecca.

Sometimes, what the team needs is not just a guy yelling at their faces, but rather someone with Mike’s charm, or Rebecca’s friendliness to light up the room and boost squad morale.

Which Chris appreciated them for—doing the things he can’t do as captain. As captain, he must always remain a respectful distance from his team. He is the most senior member of the squad and must act that way even when situations are dire.

That got him thinking about his old team, still nowhere to be found, where their long history of acquaintance allows the lines of authority to blur. Many of those missions with them are often exchanged with laughs…

Chris bumps his arm onto a table beside him. Atop lays a vintage typewriter, a piece of paper is stuck to it.

It has been an unspoken protocol between S.T.A.R.S to document their adventures on the go, in case an accident occurs, so their stories are remembered and not forgotten. That ritual followed Chris and his team into B.S.A.A. He picks up the note; the ink is still very faintly lukewarm.

To whoever is reading this,

There is something really creepy about this mansion. It’s just too dang quiet. Where on earth is everyone? I know that Arias should be on a plane to a different continent now, so nobody’s home but—

“…Ch-.” A voice can be heard in the air while he reads; he pushes the sound out to focus.

…But I feel a chill down my back. If you’re in this room now, ge—

A heavy hand slams onto the table, winces, then goes back on the table again. The entire forearm is bandaged, and the palm is wrapped in some translucent cling film.

“Chris! I’m talking to you.” Rebecca taps her foot impatiently.

“And I heard you. You don’t have to say my name twice.” Chris looks at her for a second and brings his eyes down back to paper, reading between the blurred lines. “I saw you were tending to Gabriel when you were in a much worse state. You should prioritise yourself first.”

“I actually called you three times!” Rebecca clicks her tongue, crossing her arms now.

Chris shrugs. Rebecca continues when she realises he isn’t going to say anything else.

“I can take care of myself, don’t worry, captain.” She utters the word captain with much disdain that it irks his eyebrow slightly.

“Suit yourself.” Chris pretends to read, but Rebecca is still staring intently, so he asks: “How can I help you, Chambers?”

She picks the paper out of his hands, and declares: “Maybe we should address the elephant in the room.”

“There is nothing to discuss.” Chrisfolds his arms to match hers.

“Clearly there is. Or you wouldn’t be ignoring me.” Rebecca’s voice comes out a little louder than it should, sounding throughout the room as everyone peeks at the duo. Chris doesn’t need an audience for their petty drama, lest appearing unprofessional to his own personnel.

“Let’s talk outside.”

The two promptly walk to the exit, with Rebecca behind Chris so he can’t escape. They leave the room, facing the wet laundry, as Chris closes the door behind him to avoid prying ears.

“Alright, talk then.” He begins, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.For a man like Chris, he can be cold when he is upset. Even among his close ones. But there is still a bit of warmth in his voice, a bit of unspoken openness to listen. But for Chris to be convinced, it is still highly dependent on what Rebecca says next.

“Hey- I just want to say.” All of a sudden not knowing where to start, or when. After trying to get Chris to make peace with her all day, she finally has his attention. But when the moment comes, Rebecca is lost for words. Stuck behind her throat and tongue ice frozen.

“I know you don’t want me here. Putting my life in danger.” says Rebecca quietly.

“Like I said, you are free to do what you want.” Chris deadpans. “…And you did. What’s done is done.”

“Hey, don’t give me that. C’mon, Chris. You know it would be better if I was here. I know this virus better than you do. I’ve been researching this for months, and- and- you know my radio won’t reach you in here with the signal jammed.”

“Everything beyond these doors are unknown territory. Did you forget five of our best agents went MIA here?” Chris releases one long, arduous breath.

Rebecca is silent. She hasn’t forgotten, will never forget if the agents are dead—but doing anything is better than doing nothing. She will rather put her life at risk than the waiting game just to be told her friends are dead. “Yes. I know that. But you need me here.”

“And what I need most, is for you to be safe.” Chris places both hands firmly on her shoulders, sighs, and lets go.

Chris admits; there is truth in her words. The virus is alive, a living subject. They must tread carefully. And who else knows about this virus better than Rebecca? She may be the means of life or death.

“We are still a team. We watch each other’s back. We trust each other.” Rebecca hesitates for a moment, then continues. “…Just like S.T.A.R.S, the good old days.”

Chris tries to push away the betrayal from the back of his mind and focus only on the good parts of the memories. But it didn’t work. The clockwork of life kept running, wondering if the same fate will happen to him once more.

Trust? How long has Chris trusted someone? Put his life on the line of other people’s desires, capabilities? How many people have died trying? When has that ever worked out for Chris? He knows that the only person he can rely on saving himself and others is his own self.

Abruptly, his thought process is interrupted by cheers cascading from the other side of the door. Chris opens the door, and Rebecca’s curiosity peeks inside.

The crowd is cheering at Miguel, passing around bottled water around the circle. In this house trapped with years’ worth of heat, rotted smell preserved in humidity, water is a found treasure to these men. Especially after the laborious sprint earlier, they can feel half of their bodies’ liquid lost, throat turning dry and lips crackling.

Rebecca recalls her discovery about the water supply. She remembers warning the crew about this. Yet through the corner of her eyes, she sees Gabriel cracking open the bottle seal, shimmying his mask out the way, his lips touching the lip of the plastic bottle.

“DON’T DRINK THAT!” She yelps, as loud as she can possibly muster.

And everything happened all at once.

STORAGE ROOM – 3:57 AM

Gas starts to sizzle into the room through tightened air pressure, escaping rapidly into the space. Engulfed in smoke, Rebecca clutches onto her mask, hoping that the cheap material will be sufficient. At the minimum providing a bit of resistance before they remove themselves from the smoke-filled room.  

“Squad! Make your way to the exit!” Chris orders.

Chris and Rebecca guide the team out one by one. Individuals start shuffling out of the mist from within. Johnny comes through first, then Mike, Miguel, and Johnny.

“Captain!” Johnny cries, pointing a wobbly finger into the puffs of smoke. “He’s still…”

Faintly from the haze, a figure manifests, sprawling on the floor. It grunts in fear, choking and coughing with arms extended.

“I… I can’t move! My… my leg…” His facial features slowly uncover from the smoke, and there is Gabriel desperately dragging along his broken foot towards the door. The injured had completely slipped Chris’ mind. He needs to get him out of there, now.

Chris pushes himself inside, but Mike grabs him before his foot makes its way in. Mike utters in grave realisation: “He’s unmasked.”

“I swear to god I’m alright! I swear on my life!” Gabriel cries even louder, swallowing a lump of smoke into his chest, and he chokes. “I didn’t drink the water!”

“Captain… what do we do?” asks Miguel, voice softening in desperation. He knows the answer to that question, but Miguel refutes that option, denying it like a child in the face of loss. “Captain! What do I do?”

Chris does not say a thing, nor it is his place. This farewell is reserved between him and his friend. Then afterwards, Chris must do what must be done.

“Miguel… ¡No me dejes aquí!” They can barely hear Gabriel’s sobs over the continuous hissing, louder through time, breaking free of the closed room to contaminate the air outside too.

That is, until Rebecca cuts in: “It’s not too late. The gas is useless by itself, as long as he didn’t drink the water. He’s going to be fine. But we shouldn’t risk it… Just in case.”

“Fuck this, I’m not leaving him there.” Miguel sprints past Chris and Mike into the white without looking back. They try to grab hold of him before he does anything reckless, but Miguel flings them away. “I’m not leaving him behind. We grew up in the same town. Enlisted together. Same squad for years. I’m not letting him go now.”  

Miguel searches inside the fog, and finding the lightly conscioused Gabriel quivering with his chest on the floor. Miguel hauls Gabriel’s body weight onto his own.

“We’re getting out of here alive, Gabito.” Miguel swings an arm around his friend’s shoulder, pulling Gabriel’s feeble foot upwards and lets his torso limp over himself.

“Tch c’mon, haven’t we been through everything already? I’ve seen you worse when you broke your arm and ribs.”

“I remember that. You carried me all the way back to camp just like this.” Gabriel speaks with a mellow voice in reminiscence. Miguel can hear something clicking its throat, sinisterly gargling the air. Miguel pauses to look around, there is no other presence. Right, he already checked the room. It’s safe. So, he continues forward.

“And we will get through this one too. Your abuelita will be heartbroken if you’re gone. I can’t do that to her.” They are approaching closer to the ray of light at the end of the door. Gabriel falls to his side.  

“Hang on, man! I’ll get you out of here. You can trus—”

Rebecca hears a clack, the sound she recognises to be bones snapping in half. She can’t see where Gabriel and Miguel are, with the fog blurring her sight. The vague silhouettes that can be seen before are now gone.

She leans in, peeking into fuzziness, but Chris’ arm moves in front of her, blocking her from getting any closer. He, too, is cautious of the sound.

“What’s taking them so long?” Mike calls out their names but there is no response from the other end. “That’s it, I’m heading in.”

“Mike, wait!” cries Chris.

Mike steps inside, warily inspecting. When he lifts the other foot, he almost trips. “What the—?” He shifts his leg around some more.

“I can’t move my foot!!” Mike’s shrieks are like little girl squeals throwing a tantrum. He wiggles back and forth to readjust balance with all his might. “Eek! Some slimy shit’s holding me down!!”

“Get it off me, get it off me!” The three of them attempt to pull Mike out and the foot lifts into the air. As if noticing the traction, the mist yanks Mike’s leg backwards. “Fuck shit fuck fuck!! Lord have mercy!!”

What is this power? How can it be this strong? There shouldn’t be anyone else in the room, Chris had already done all the check spots. The only people still in the room are just Gabriel and Miguel. What happened to the two of them anyway?

Mike had enough; he pulls out his handgun and shoots at the general direction of the force. The strength loosens, and they can see the whole foot now and the mysterious force dragging him back.

A bloody hand fastens around Mike’s ankle, fingers tightening sturdily around the soft skin. Another hand appears abruptly and secures right above the other hand. It has a different complexion, a silver coated wedding band over its ring finger. This is Miguel’s ring.

Something can be heard from within the fog, distinctly Gabriel’s voice.

“Mike… we’re having a party in here. Come join us!” The cheerful tone sends goosebumps rushing down Mike’s back.

“Shit! It can talk!?” Chris tries to pull the leg again, but it’s planted to the floor.

“It’s okay, Mike. Let’s have a lot of fun!” This doesn’t even sound like Miguel, but it is his voice.

There’s a bullet hole through its palm from Mike’s shot. It bleeds all over the other hand, still able to grab persistently despite suffering from such a wound.

“No, no, no! This… This isn’t supposed to happen!!” It shouldn’t be possible for the virus to activate only on gas alone, Rebecca was confident about this. It was one of the key implementations of this virus for its remote activation.  

Yet the impossible is right there in front of her, the evidence of the vein-popping, skin-crackling bloody hand lay bare contradicting her every hypothesis.

Mike’s foot stumble further backwards, his hamstring swallowed now. The shrieks are turning into despair, losing his childish tone, becoming more pleading, demanding.

Chris draws his dagger from his holster and stabs straight down into the mist, briefly missing Mike’s foot and directly into both palms, skewering the two hands together. Both hands let go simultaneously, withdrawing into the white once more.

“Now!” Chris orders, and the four of them backs away from the entrance, with Chris slamming the door shut behind. He secures the door with his entire back, feeling the full force of banging. He growls out: “Barricade!”

Rebecca, Mike and Johnny shuffle around, dragging a table, cabinets, chairs—anything heavy to prop in front of the door. Chris stuffs the tiny door gap with vintage draperies to confine the poisonous air, taken directly from the curtain racks itself.

Whatever that is left of Gabriel and Miguel can still be heard snarling, clicking their throats, gargling air beyond the closed door. Occasionally muttering to themselves, pleading the rest on the other side to open the door ever so slightly with their gentle persuasion.

LAUNDRY – 4:06 AM

“I thought I was dead meat for sure.” Mike leans against the other side of the wall, checking his own foot. There is a purple bruise on his skin, but his ankle moves freely. All his joints are fine; nothing is twisted. “Thanks, you guys.”

Rebecca and Chris nods.

“So we lost two, huh…” Mike dry laughs at the situation, even when there is nothing funny going on right now.

There is another moment of silence as each of them thinks about their own fate in this mansion. With their numbers dropped by a third, their chance of survival is looking rather slim.

“Hey, if it helps, I never like those two anyway.” Mike tries to break the suffocating atmosphere with some humour, before a voice that had been quiet for a while suddenly speaks up.

“Gabriel and Miguel wouldn’t have died if he didn’t get false info.” utters Johnny.

“You, rookie?” Mike stops to eye Johnny up and down, who is currently sitting right next to him, with his hands and definitely his ass clenched too. “Defending the guys who yelled at your face?”

“It was ‘cause of my own fuck-up.” Johnny clenches his own fist, guilt dripping through every word. “They shouldn’t have died regardless.”

“In this line of work, people die.” Chris states. It’s a matter of fact. They all knew what they signed up for. “Don’t take it personally.”

“Even so… If they did know about the gas, they would have been alive. At least, Miguel would have been!” Johnny stares directly at Rebecca for responsibility.

When confronted directly, Rebecca hesitates, she knows the blood is in her hands. “This… This is also news to me too… I have read the reports multiple times, there is no mention that A-Virus is capable of such transmission. It doesn’t match up to the research.”

“What if the report was a plant?” Johnny asks. “Arias sent fake data to your email.”

“It can’t be. Each transaction requires a single use security token to grant access to my private cloud storage. This token can only be authenticated via fingerprint recognition. So Leon must have sent the files himself.” Rebecca clarifies. In her mind, her system is impenetrable, mostly…

“And what if he’s dead? Or held hostage? Arias could force his thumb to send whatever he wants.”

Rebecca pauses, then she speaks: “That is a possibility.”

“Clearly, you have not thought of everything.” Johnny leans back.

If Johnny’s theories are right... Rebecca instinctually pats down her back pocket, feeling the cylinder case she tried so hard to save in the laboratory room... then this would have been a waste.

“You—” Chris grabs Johnny on the arm in an uncomfortable angle, squeezing it hard for a lesson. “Enough, kid. I don’t need you going around insulting the best B.O.W. tech I know. She’s doing everything she can. So zip it, focus on your own shit, and follow my orders as I tell you. And I’m ordering you to be quiet.”

“Fine, fine. I got it.” Johnny shrugs off Chris’ hand and rises. “Where’s that same energy to the doctor, huh?” He walks towards a pillar far from the three of them but still within sight.

Chris considered raising his voice, but he drops the idea. Instead, he plops down onto the ground next to Rebecca, patting on her head like he would to his own sister. “Never mind that guy. He’ll lose that attitude real soon. I remember I used to be the same rookie who would talk back to my captain too. Got my ass whooped. Never did that again. At least, not in front of their faces. Maybe I’m going too easy on these fresh ones, who knows…”

A rare moment of gratitude flashes across Rebecca’s eyes; Chris simply dismisses it with a wave. It’s his job to ensure they focus on the present of objective. Not their past, nor their failures. Moreover, B.O.W. techs are more valuable than brawny field soldiers like himself by the hundreds.

Rebecca reaches for something in her bag, and a paper floats to the floor, crumpled from action.

“It’s the letter I took from you.” She should give this back.

He refuses, instead says: “Let’s read it together.”

Trust is rebuilding again, brick by brick.

Chris whistles at the other two and Mike carries himself towards them. Johnny does not move, hand on cheek looking at everything but them even if he did hear the captain. Mike and Rebecca exchange a ‘just let him be’ glance with Chris.

So, Chris unfolds the paper, and reads it out loud, from the part he left off in the storage room.

Get out of there this instant. We think the storage room is booby trapped. I thought the gas was going to turn all of us, but I feel fine. Carlos and Jill though…are off. I accidentally brushed against them, and they felt… cold. When I try talking to them, they seem distracted for a split second. Far off.

Or it could be a false alarm. We don’t know yet. We decided to split into teams for efficiency: Jill and Ada to retrieve the sample while Leon, Carlos shall investigate the pipes. And for me… we’ll see. Once we’re done, we will meet up and get the fuck out of here. I trust Rebecca and the team; we would get through this. We always find a way.

If this is you reading, Arias, get shit on, sucker! The sample will be ours, good riddance to your little game! Justice prevails once more!

There is a hand drawn winky face next to it. Chris and Rebecca scoffs, that optimistic trusting behaviour. So typical of you. And oh, so wrong you were about everything.

“So, the lab, huh? That’s the one by the corridor?” asks Mike.

“Most likely. I know three people was last seen on the ground floor, the others on the top floor. And it’s likely Carlos and Jill to be turned first, according to Leon.” answers Rebecca.

“Could they have split up to divide numbers so they can infect them?” asks Chris.

“That explains why they went MIA. Either infected, or worse, dead.” Mike comments, but none of this is looking too favourable on their side right now.

Chris shakes his head. “I don’t think it’ll be so easy. I know these guys. They’re not the kind to give up without a fight. And these guys are some great fighters.”

Rebecca nods reluctantly. “True—That is, if they know a zombie is among them. These zombies can fucking talk. They wouldn’t have seen it coming. And from what we saw today, they can blend in and entice with their human speech. We have to be very careful.”

What’s to say one of them is not between them now? But she seals her tongue from making such bold statement. Rebecca eyes over a suspicious glance at everyone, including Johnny, checking for any irregularities. None she can notice from a fair distance away.

“But how does the infection work then? Was Gabriel bitten?” Mike asks.

“No, it was only a fracture. The bite marks would be distinct. He only made contact with the ga—” Rebecca pauses.

Her brain starts chugging, like a cogwheel in a complicated mechanism with fragments of facts. Neither of the boys dare to interrupt Rebecca from her thoughts. When she is in the zone, nothing anyone say will get into her head. And it clicks.

“Arias, you sneaky bastard…” She grins. She would kiss her brain right now if she could.

Chris and Mike look at each other in confusion.

“The poisoned water is all around us. It’s the air.” Rebecca elaborates, smiling wide the entire time after her newfound discovery. 

“The air?” Chris and Mike gasps in unison.

“Don’t you think it’s strange that when you stepped inside the house, it’s musty?” She pauses to let the boys think. “But the outside, it’s cool.”  

“Well, there must have been residual heat from the day still trapped in the house.” Mike comments. It seems abandoned for a long time after all.

“What residual heat during April? It should still be dry season in Querétaro. It’s the humidity! Arias had been pumping up the humidity in the house, that’s why mould is everywhere.”

“And how does that tie to—” Halfway through Mike’s sentence, he snaps his fingers. “Oh.”

“The water supply in the humidifier, of course.” Chris grins, nodding his head in approval.

“The bottled water in the storage is bait. It never had anything to do with the virus.” Rebecca points at Chris and does an a-ha! sound. “The tank in the laboratory is actually just a large-scale humidifier, sending the virus through water vapours in the air. All around us. That’s what those employees were guarding.”

“Gabriel was the only one who took off his mask.” Mike hits his palm with a fist. “And Miguel was infected by being bitten. Then why was Carlos and Jill the ones infected?”

“They had all been infected since the beginning.” Rebecca says, which is the scariest part about this whole operation. What would have happened if Rebecca never suggested the masks?

She continues: “How it activates, I have no clue. The speed of activation drastically varies from person to person so far. The A-Virus attacks always happen either immediately, or up to an hour. I wonder if it’s individual resistance to the virus.”

“Regardless! That’s a major discovery!” Mike launches himself up in joy. “My lord, you’re a genius, Rebecca!”

“As long as we keep our masks on, we should be fine.” Rebecca states, for real this time.

“I’ll let Johnny know the good news.” Mike scoots off. It’s just Rebecca and Chris alone now.

Rebecca takes in a nervous gulp now they are alone. She had forgotten to tell him the most important thing. Rebecca owes him that at least. “Hey, Chris… About the metal case…”

“It’s okay, Becca.” Chris shakes his head understandingly. “You don’t have to tell me anything. Only if you want to. Only when you’re ready. Because we’re going to see this to the end.”

“The both of us?” Rebecca suggests with much confidence.

“With everyone. I’ll make sure we all get back home.” Chris reassures, and this time, he can see clearly what lies at the end of the rainbow.

But what they didn’t know, is that during their heartfelt revelation, Johnny had let a tear fall in private, lifting his mask ever so slightly to wipe the wateriness from his cheek.

TFD SERIES MASTERLIST // RESIDENT EVIL MASTERLIST

MY BELOVED BETAS: @scar-crossedlvrs @jellybonbons the plot really boggle my brain i made so many changes last min. my first longfic so forgive me. on the bright side, we're so close to the finale omg!! the next chapter will take me a while, just a heads up! whoever is still reading this, i appreciate you guys for still staying tuned and from the bottom of my heart, thank you for still believing in me. i love you all sm.

TAGLIST:

@jellybonbons @ovaryacted @daydreamrot @madcap-riflette @access--granted

@obsolescent @briermelli @secretiveauthor @ghosty-frog @navstuffs

@slowcryinginthedark @rentaldarling @lesbntired @redvleanli @vinsiliors

@whoisgami @gaylorvader @wxwieeee @eddsthemunson

[faust-the-enjoyer]

Masterlist

Started: 17/11/2023

Last updated: 18/4/2024

Detroit: Become Human:

Smut:

♡ Hank Anderson x reader:

Tight

Bioshock Infinite:

fluff:

♡ Booker DeWitt x reader:

Helping Fix Up His Wounds

Smut:

♡ Booker DeWitt x reader:

Loving Touch

Silent Hill/ Dead by Daylight:

Smut:

♡ Pyramid Head x reader:

Pyramid Head NSFW headcanons!

Appetite

Elden Ring:

Fluff:

♡ White-faced/White-mask Varre:

His Gentle Hands

Smut:

♡ White-faced/White-mask Varre:

Unblinking Eyes

Call of Duty:

Fluff:

♡ König x reader:

Sick

♡ Keegan P. Russ x reader:

Keegan+fluff!

Move Date Night!

A Sweet Home

Coffee

T-shirt (Dbf!Keegan)

Safe Haven

Sleeping in your arms

Black and Pink

Mascara

Colonel

♡ Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader:

Short ficlet

Binder

Sex Repulsed!Simon x Ace!reader

Promises

Blooming Love

Head-Turner

Promises

Platonic:

♡ Keegan P. Russ:

Nail polish

Smut:

♡ König x reader:

Care

Big Hands

♡ Keegan P. Russ:

Care

Gentle Touch

Kisses (part 1)

Kisses (part 2)

Drunk dbf!Keegan

Jump

More

Double Smash

Pink Heart

Sweet Sounds

♡ Simon "Ghost" Riley:

More

Indulgence

♡ Keegan P. Russ x Logan walker x reader:

The best mentor

Resident Evil 4 remake:

Fluff:

♡ Leon S. Kennedy:

Rest

Series:

♡ Keegan P. Russ x reader:

A Moment of Joy (no order in the series):

Part 1

Part 2

OCs:

Ibtisam "Sam" Joud

-(heart divider by cafekitsune, other divider by saradika-graphics)!

[esmestarz]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ INTRO ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

about me ─ ★

esme

she/her

infp

bisexual

i can play on the electric guitar and piano !!

i used to do ballet but now i do belly dancing

i love listening to music esp rap, metal (any type tbfr) and rock, my fav animal is a cat and I'm pretty sure that's it

stuff ─ ★

if you want me to write for a character that isn't on the list feel free to ask me and I'll write for them if possible <3

i will write smut, fem reader, gn reader, platonic and romantic relationships

i will not write rape, incest, gore, threesome, gang bang, male reader, character x character, character x oc, poly relationships, specified race reader

what and who i write for ─ 𐙚⋅˚₊‧

MOVIES ─ ★

black swan

- nina sayers

- lily

diary of a wimpy kid

- rodrick heffley

harry potter

- hermione granger

- harry potter

- draco malfoy

- luna lovegod

- ron weasley

- theodore nott

- tom riddle

scream

- tatum riley

- sidney prescott

- billy loomis

- stu marcher

- samantha carpenter

- tara carpenter

- amber freeman

- anika kayko

- ethan landry

- gale weathers

- jill roberts

- kirby reed

- chad meeks-martin

- mindy meeks-martin

life as a house

- sam monroe

awake

- clay beresford

casper

- casper mcfadden

fight club

- marla singer

- tyler durden

star wars

- anakin skywalker

- padmé amidala

narnia

- edmund pevensie

- peter pevensie

seasquatch squad

- jeremy sumpter

SERIES ─ ★

pretty little liars

- emily fields

- alison dilaurentis

- hanna marin

- spencer hastings

gossip girl

- blair waldorf

- serena van der woodsen

- georgina sparks

outerbanks

- rafe cameron

- sarah cameron

- jj maybanks

- kiara carrera

- pope heyward

- john b routledge

seaquest dsv

- lucas wolenczak

the babysitters club

- sam thomas

- kristy thomas

- stacey mcgill

- claudia kishi

- dawn schafer

shameless

- carl gallagher

- fiona gallagher

- debbie gallagher

malcolm in the middle

- malcolm wilkerson

- reese wilkerson

- francis wilkerson

my babysitters a vampire

- rory keaner

- ethan morgan

- sarah fox

ruby and the well

- sam price

- mina amani

- ruby o'reilly

KDRAMA ─ ★

all of us are dead

- choi nam-ra

- lee su-hyeok

- lee cheong-san

- lee na-yeon

- nam on-jo

sweet home

- yoon ji-su

- lee eun-yoo

- cha hyun-soo

KPOP ─ ★

aespa

- karina

- winter

- ningning

- giselle

twice

- nayeon

- chaeyoung

- momo

- mina

- sana

- jihyo

- dahyun

- jeongyeon

- tzuyu

le sserafim

- sakura

- yunjin

- chaewon

- kazuha

- eunchae

gidle

- soyeon

- minnie

- shuhua

- miyeon

- yuqi

nmixx

- sullyoon

- lily

- kyujin

- haewon

- jiwoo

- bae

new jeans

- danielle

- haerin

- minji

- hyein

- hanni

GAMES ─ ★

the last of us

- ellie williams

fatal frame

- yuri kozukata

- rui kagamiya

cry of fear

- simon henriksson

resident evil

- leon s kennedy

- jill valentine

- ada wong

- claire redfield

- bela dimitrescu

[faun-the-fawn77]

ꜰᴀᴜɴ'ꜱ ꜰᴏʀᴇꜱᴛ🌲🦌

💚Masterlist Here!

💚Commission Info Here

💚Request/Taglist Info Here

💚Artwork!

Boundaries for what I will and will not write!

Will Do:

Smut

Angst

Fluff

Hurt/comfort

Sometimes dabble in SH/sewerslide

Character x reader

Character x OC

Will try to write for all genders

Pregnancy

Won't Do:

SA/Rape

Pedophilia

Scat/piss kink

Abuse

Threesomes(It just confuses me honestly)

Honestly just the most horrid things you could think of and I won't do

Fandoms That I Write For:

✞Hazbin Hotel✞

-Alastor

-Lucifer

-Adam

-Angel Dust

-Husk

-Vox

☠︎︎Helluva Boss☠︎︎

-Stolas

-Striker

-Blitzo

-Loona

-Fizzarolli

𓆸Harry Potter𓆸

-Draco Malfoy

-James Potter

-Sirius Black

-Remus Lupin

-Tom Riddle

✿LOTR/The Hobbit✿

-Legolas

-Thranduil

-Thorin

꧁Jujutsu Kaisen꧂

-Gojo Satoru

-Geto Suguru

-Toji Fushiguro

-Sukuna Ryoumen

✵Stranger Things✵

-Eddie Munson

-Steve Harrington

-Robin Buckley

-Billy Hargrove

𓆩𓆪Supernatural𓆩𓆪

-Dean Winchester

-Castiel

-Sam Winchester

-Gabriel

❦The Walking Dead❦

-Daryl Dixon

-Rick Grimes

-Negan Smith

⚔︎Demon Slayor⚔︎

-Rengoku Kyojuro

-Shinazugawa Sanemi

-Uzui Tengen

✧My Hero Academia✧

-Aizawa Shouta

-Dabi/Todoroki Touya

-Todoroki Shouto

-Bakugou Katsuki

-Hawks/Keigo Takami

֎MISC֎

-Zuko(ATLA)

-Joel Miller(TLOU)

-Buggy(OPLA)

-Leon Kennedy

-Jake Seresin

-Bradley Bradshaw

-Soldier Boy(The Boys)

About Me:

My name is Faun:) pronounced like the baby deer.

I'm in my early 20's

I'm a self taught artist!

I live in Alaska! Fun fact: It's a place that one of the brothers from Brother Bear was named after

My fav colours are cerulean blue and moss green

I have a black cat and his name is Enoki!

My fav food is halibut!

Boba is my go-to drink

I'm in a lot of fandoms(might write for them in the future)

I have seven piercings which are all on my head and four tattoos!

I love to go fishing!

I dye my hair a lot! And I wear the same 5 rings:)

I'm sensitive to hurtful words but I'm working on that

I'm bipolar:)

Please be respectful towards me and those who send in asks! I want this community to be kind and to encourage others!💚

[winksasleeplesseye]

City of the Dead - Masterlist

Description: Amara Moore, a respected member of the S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team, returns from a well-earned vacation on July 26, only to find that their team numbers are not only mysteriously, significantly reduced but are disbanded as well. 

Left with no real reason, and half her team gone alongside the Alpha Team, she’s out of a job until she takes it upon herself to investigate. What she uncovers is more than she could’ve imagined. Which all culminates to September 29. A day that she, alongside the RPD’s newest rookie, Leon Kennedy, will never forget. 

Pairing: Leon Kennedy X OC 

PERSONS OF INTEREST 

Character Bios

Playlist

Moodboards/Character Aesthetics

Character Select: Amara Moore

Character Select: Leon Kennedy

FILES 

File #001 - Conspiracy 

File #002 - Nightmare

File #003 - The Rookie

File #004 - Trade

File #005 - Night Music

File #006 - Lachesism

File #007 - Paradigm 

File #008 - This Much is True 

File #009 - Reciprocity

File #010 - The End of the Beginning

File #011 - Epilogue

[notbadforafailedvessel]

Resident Evil backstory generator

Find out your backstory for the Resident Evil universe! Some scenarios generated won't make sense canonically because it's pretty random, but just have fun! Write down your results (And some head canons if you want) for yourself or an OC and tag me or reblog this so I can read it!

Birth Month - Figure out who you're related to:

January - Albert Wesker February - Jill Valentine March - Mother Miranda April - House Heisenberg May - Ada Wong June - Leon Kennedy July - Barry Burton August - House Moreau September - Chris and Claire Redfield October - House Dimitrescu November - Rebecca Chambers December - Ethan Winters

First Letter of First Name - What Game Your Story Takes Place In:

A - Resident Evil: Outbreak B - Resident Evil: Revelations 2 C - Resident Evil 8 D - Resident Evil 5 E - Resident Evil 7 F - Resident Evil: Code Veronica G - Resident Evil: Revelations H - Resident Evil 4 I - Resident Evil 6 J - Resident Evil K - Resident Evil 3 (Remake) L - Resident Evil: Code Veronica M - Resident Evil 7 N - Resident Evil: Zero O - Resident Evil: Outbreak P - Resident Evil 3: Nemesis Q - Resident Evil 2 (Remake) R - Resident Evil 8 S - Resident Evil 2 T - Resident Evil 5 U - Resident Evil 8 V - Resident Evil: Code Veronica W - Resident Evil X - Resident Evil 6 Y - Resident Evil 3: Nemesis Z - Resident Evil 4

First Letter Of Last Name - Who Your Partner Is

A - Piers Nivens B - Chris Redfield C - Jill Valentine D - Ethan Winters E - Leon Kennedy F - Carlos Oliveira G - Sheva Alomar H - Moira Burton I - Claire Redfield J - Ada Wong K - Sherry Birkin (Grown Up) L - Barry Burton M - Jake Muller N - Mia Winters O - Leon Kennedy P - Barry Burton Q - Chris Redfield R - Sheva Alomar S - Claire Redfield T - Ada Wong U - Carlos Oliveira V - Jill Valentine W - Ethan Winters X - Zoe Baker Y - Piers Nivens Z - Leon Kennedy

Favorite Color: The Main Villain You're Fighting Against

Red - Nemesis T Type Orange - Albert Wesker Yellow - Chief Brian Irons Green - Mr. X Blue - Mother MIranda Purple - Derek Simmons Pink - Lord Osmund Saddler Brown - Lord Karl Heisenberg Black - Alex Wesker White - Lady Alcina Dimitrescu

Favorite Voice Line (Out of the ones provided): Who You Save

No thanks, bro! (Leon Kennedy) - You save Ada Wong

I'm not gonna die on you and leave you in a cold, cruel, Carlos-less world. (Carlos Oliveira) - You save Jill Valentine

Hmm... Starting to go a little stale (Alcina Dimitrescu) - You save Rosemary Winters

You want S.T.A.R.S? I'll give you S.T.A.R.S! (Jill Valentine) - You save Carlos Oliveira

You were almost a Jill Sandwich. (Barry Burton) - You save Chris Redfield

This is getting old. Saving your ass - That's twice. (Ada Wong) - You save Leon Kennedy

I'm sick of bugs! (Ethan Winters) - You save Mia Winters

I'm going to murder that boulder-punching asshole, but you're first! (Karl Heisenberg) - You save Ethan Winters

Staaaars! (Nemesis) - You save Mikhail Viktor

What're ya buyin'? (The merchant) - You save The Duke

My results:

I'm related to Ethan Winters (I'm hating this already 😒😂).

My story takes place in Resident Evil 4.

My partner is Claire Redfield.

The main villain I'm fighting against is Mother Miranda (after having Ethan as my relative, I think I would prefer to make team with Mother Miranda to get rid of him 😂😂😂 afterwards I deal with her 😌).

I'm saving Leon Kennedy.

Thank you so much for tagging me, @ctitan98! This was fun. I really don't know many RE fans here so I wouldn't know who to tag, but if you see this and you want to do it, go ahead pls!

[aredsunrise]

You're Also The Priority

Notes : It is an Leon S Kennedy x original female character (Charlie Miller) fic. 22 y/o oc. I was bored and wanted to try something. It will probably be almost all about the RE4, so sorry. It is also my first fic and English is not my first language. Also sorry if there is any mistakes! (Part 2 is already on ao3 btw)

Summary : It all started when Ashley and her old friend, Charlie, returned from their school. Before they could understand what was happening, a tough man had kidnap them and took them to Spain. Separate from Ashley, when they arrived in an old, weird village, Charlie made it her mission to find her and get away as soon as possible. This is how an agent, who was supposedly there to rescue her and Ashley, found her.

CW : Angst? - Slow Burn - Canon-Typical Violence - Fluff? - Bad Writing - Mutual Pining - Flirting

Words : 634

Part one

Charlie couldn't remember how she got stuck into a dark chamber. The last memory she had was of her and her friend, Ashley, in a car. Now, all she could do was to freak out because of the lack of light and the room where she was. Charlie felt the old and perforated sheets under her body and the air be muffled by the dust she saw rising when she jumped up from the sofa she was resting on.

"Fuck..." was all she could whisper.

She glanced around, searching for her friend in the dark, using the light of small candles placed in a few places, but nothing. There were only the footsteps of mice that were breaking the silence. She stood up and walked towards the wall, her arms in front of her. When she touched it, she walked to the side of the room to find a door. Her whole body was shaking. A mixture of fear and chills. She was cold - It was cold. Charlie repeatedly bumped into wooden boxes and dusty furniture. Above, there were small candlesticks, papers and even books.

She finally found a door, after a few minutes, and frantically moved the handle. Lock.

"Fuck!" she whispers more loudly this time. She took a few steps towards one of the cabinets to find a key or anything, as long as she could open this stupid door when footsteps were heard from the other side. Charlie backed up until she found a vanity and hid under it. It was filled with cobwebs and covered with a long sheet when footsteps came in front the door. She hoped that whoever this is, they will think she is gone and let the door open. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She felt it ringing in her ears as she could see five people come in with the light on the other side of the room. The first who entered was a man with a long purple cape that was hidden a part of his face and some kind of black dress with a stick with some gross alive stuff on it. The rest seems to be four women with long brown or white or beige dresses and a bag that covered their heads, thanks to ropes rolled up and attached to their necks.

"What the fuck?"

"Don't be scared, my child, come out of your hiding place." Said the man in a tone that was meant to be reassuring.

Charlie didn't move. This man was certainly crazy. And because of that, he only waved his hand and the four others began to search the room.

"Shit."

When they finally found her, Charlie kicked one of the four in the face while another grabbed her legs and held them down. The young girl tried to get rid of the grip of one of them on her body.

"Do not resist my child. You will receive the gift of our lord and everything will be better."

Charlie tried to struggle even harder when she saw one of the women approach a seringue near her neck while another held her head to the side, pressing her cheek to the dirty floor. The needle pierced her skin, causing her pain. She could feel the liquid entering and nausea came to her. The four women's gripp grew weaker as the man's voice sounded for the last time:

"Now sleep, my child. Your task is not over."

Taking a sudden fatigue, her eyelids closed directly thereafter. Her body had risen up and back onto the couch. She realized she was going to have to muster up all her courage because the next time someone will visit, she was going to run away from this shit. She will find Ashley and get out of this crazy place.

[spcewild]

Boundaries & Fandom I will write for !

Just restating games/Fandom I will write for ;

Rdr (1&2)

Re (resident evil - Leon Kennedy, Carlos, Luis Sera, etc.)

SR (Saints row - all main characters [Johnny gat, Carlos, Shaundi, etc.])

COD (Black ops, newer cod games, etc.)

Mortal Kombat (1 & 11)

Borderlands (1&2 + Tales From Borderlands only!)

Spiderman; across the multiverse

TKAM [To kill a mockingbird] (ADULT characters + platonic/parent like relationship w/ others)

DBH [Detriot: Become Human] (any ADULT characters and ADULT androids)

The Walking Dead [Rick Grimes, Daryl Dixon, Shane Walsh, Maggie, Glenn, etc.] (ALL ADULT CHARACTERS)

The Punisher (All ADULT main characters)

The Outsiders (All Characters EXECPT for antagonists/Socs [NOT INCLUDING CHERRY])

Rumble Fish (Motorcycle Boy, Rusty James, Patty, etc...)

Tex (All main characters)

TMNT (Bayverse only)

《☆》

What I refuse to write for:

Character x character, minor x adult, incest, weird kinks, actors/real people including streamers/youtubers (I simply do not want to make them uncomfortable even if they consent to fics abt them..), etc etc. (Pretty much just the weird and illegal stuff <3)

Genres:

Smut, fluff, angst, etc!

Boundaries:

(What I am and am not comfortable with)

What I refuse to write for will either be because I am simply uninterested in writing it, or it makes me uncomfortable. If you are unsure if I am comfortable with writing a certain thing/idea, PLEASE ASK!! I will not be mad! :)

I AM okay with being reblogged! It is very welcome, and I appreciate it! But along with this and reposting my work (which I am also okay with), I must receive credit.

Which pretty much means don't steal my work lol

If you wish to address me in any way, you can refer to me as:

Spce, space, spcewild, and wild. Or any other nicknames you may have for me! <3 (as long as it isn't inappropriate, I do not wish to be referred to in any sexual way)

(Pronouns are listed in my bio if needed!)

I AM also okay with writing what I believe is called a match-up...? (Correct me if I'm wrong pls lmao) where you describe yourself, and oc, persona, etc. And I get to match you up with who I think you match the best with romantically or platonically!

I am ALSO okay with writing for male, female, gender neutral, intersex, trans, and any other LGBTQ+ readers!! I will also include POC readers, chubby, thin, or any body size of reader! Not only this, but if you wish for the reader to have a specific physical quality you want me to write for (and can be an insecurity) pls let me know! :)

Lastly, I am okay with writing for readers with disabilities, mental issues, etc. (Please correct me if I mistake anything when writing for specific things like this! <3)

if anyone has any questions feel free to ask <3

Requests: OPEN

[ashiemochi]

anubussy - iv

✠ Anubussy ↳ sorry, i don't want your touch ↳↳ it's not that i don't want you

➶ pairing: OC x Leon S(exy) Kennedy. ➶ genre: fluff, more angst, gore, longer smut/suggestive themes ➶ word count: no

NOTE: ✠ = time skip ✠✠ = switching povs/characters

prev -> next

Horizon Inn Lincoln, Nebraska.

The change of motels wasn’t new. After every so-called mission, they’d have to find a different motel for her whilst he goes to find a closer place to settle; just to keep an eye out. The drive to Lincoln took about two hours if not more – and she was out all of it.

Her arm was bandaged up along with her hands, and fingers. White patches were also on her collarbone and neck area, and finally, one on her cheek. It was mostly burn wounds, and her body was still healing, urging her to sit and rest just one night.

No rest for the weary. A quote someone so dear to her once said.

Once again, her mind blocked the memory from returning.

The microwave hummed lowly in the background as So Ah jogged up to the wall covered in notes, the map of the city, and finally, the pinboard. As she pinned a new photograph of Glenn Arias on the board, she went ahead and used a red string to connect his photo and Mason’s.

“Glenn Arias… And Mason Cooper…” So Ah muttered under her breath, tapping the red pen on her open palm, “How is the CEO of A-GUA Industries connected to all of this?”

Sighing to herself, she stepped close once again to cross out Mason’s photo, “I wish I gave you a chance to explain your side of the story…” She frowned, guilt rising up her back, “I’m sorry.”

A knock at the door caught her attention and she looked at it, eyes unblinking. It could be anyone but she hoped it wasn’t the same alliance she was running from – and assassinating.

She tossed the red pen onto the bed as she slowly made her way to the door. Her hand reached for the hand-crafted dagger by the door, gulping when the knocks returned. Staying as quietly as possible whilst her body prepared her for an adrenaline rush, she peeked through the hole. 

The BSAA soldier raised a flat carton with a grin, “Pizza?”

Dick.

A cold shower washed over her, relieved as she unlocked her door but kept the hatch. She opened it a little to look at the man, eyes narrowed as if unsure. 

“You shouldn’t be here, Piers,” So Ah reminded, “They might tra–”

“Track you and find out I’ve been backstabbing them?” Piers finished, rolling his eyes slightly, “Please, if they did, they would’ve gotten us long ago.”

“Still,” She pressed on, anxiously looking at both sides of the hallway, “You don’t know how corrupted they are.”

Piers gave her a blank look, gesturing to his face with his gloved hand, “I may have an idea.”

Whilst the mission to save Jake and Sherry over a year ago was a success, Piers had willingly sacrificed himself to save his captain, injecting himself with the C-Virus strain. His body washed up to the surface of the ocean, seemingly dead. Chris had taken him into the unscathed escape pod and was speechless when Piers breathed.

The fact he lived was a complete and utter miracle.

The BSAA was quick to get him fixed. It took six months for him to recover and get used to having a blinded eye. His mutated arm was cut off but left permanent scars all over his side, and neck. Faint ones decorated the side of his face.

People can’t help but stare at anything out of the ordinary, so to lessen the possibility of being stared at like an animal in captivity, they gave him a black eye patch and a metal arm. He’d always wear a jacket and a glove to hide it.

She shifted from one foot to the other, nervous at the possibility but again, she wouldn’t mind the company. The microwave beeped, making her jump a bit and she earned a small snort from the soldier.

She gave him an unimpressed look before shutting the door to unlock the hatch then she reopened it. Piers entered the room as she closed up the door with all its locks, his eye already scanning the place and it landed on the pinboard. 

“Not even thirty minutes in and you got everything set up already, huh?” He mused, a hint of disappointment in his voice but he didn’t seem surprised.

So Ah moved past him and straight to the microwave, “No rest for the weary.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Piers nodded with a deep exhale, “I know.”

He set down the two boxes of pizza and the plastic bag of two drinks. Sitting down on the chair to wait for her, Piers crossed his arms against his chest as he watched her open the drawers for a fork.

Her hair was down, cascading and covering the side of her face. She wore a dark grey plain shirt that was obviously a size or two bigger than her and wide black shorts. A yellow-coloured hair band was around her wrist along with a shiny bracelet that he never saw her take off at all. 

Just like the ring around her finger.

So Ah spared him an acknowledging look as she sat down next to him, stirring and untying the ramen in her cup. He took this as a silent indication to dive in, opening the box and getting the two bottles of soda out – a lime and a cherry.

“So, how are you feeling?” Piers asked, opening his bottle up to take a sip before taking a slice.

“Okay.” So Ah answered, blowing on her ramen then peered at him from the corner of her eyes, “And you?”

He chuckled, “I’m not the one who almost got blown up.”

Ticking her head to the side once, she nodded, “True.”

Piers stared at her silently and she realized he was just concerned. The pathogen in her was getting worse, and they didn’t know why her wounds were taking longer to heal. She set the fork down and took her closed soda.

“I’m fine, Piers. Really.” So Ah offered him a small smile, “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Piers raised a brow as she struggled to open the soda, her bandaged hand shaking a bit but she wasn’t able to apply enough pressure to open it. He reached over with his gloved hand, nudging her hand away.

The soda let out a faint hiss and he tossed the cap onto the table and then leaned back against his chair, letting the silence speak for itself. 

He wasn’t convinced that she was okay.

Her cinnamons darted at him then at the drink, hiding her mild amusement, “Thanks.”

“So Ah,” He sighed as she drank her soda, “I know how bad you want this – but how good will you be if you won’t give your body room to breathe?”

So Ah set the bottle down, eyes lowered down but he couldn’t read her emotions. 

“I… I’ll be okay.” She whispered.

“I know you will.” Piers returned the same tone, “But you have to take care of yourself.”

They let the topic linger in the air. It has been said numerous times. It was like reminding a high school teenager to not overwhelm themselves with school work – except this was a woman from the Han family on a killing spree.

Sure, her body can physically handle all the hits but her mental state can only hold so much remorse. Especially since she had no outlet other than going out to hunt down one of the many men who denied her the life she had.

Piers turned on the TV with the remote control, “Got something in mind to watch?”

She shook her head before blinking, perking up, “Wait, it’s Thursday, isn’t it?”

“Yea – no, we are not watching that movie again.”

“Come on! It’s fun!”

“For you!” Piers retorted, surfing through the channels, “If I have to watch one more goddamn Studio Ghibli movie, I think I’ll get sick and die.”

She rolled her eyes at his overreaction, “It’s not that bad! It’s a good movie about accepting who you are and–”

“And gushing about the guy with the black hair.”

A dreamy sigh escaped from her lips, “Howl – besides, it’s a good art study.” She looked up at him, doe eyes big, “Please?”

Piers relented with a gruff exhale, shaking his head as he switched the channels to the one she wanted. She beamed, a toothy smile making its appearance as she giggled. 

He scoffed lightly, tossing the remote on the table as the movie just started playing, “You better not fall asleep.”

“And miss Howl’s Moving Castle?” She gasped, picking up a slice of pizza, “Never.”

✠

“Howl, I’m sorry I took so long. You’ve been waiting all this time…”

The movie only had a few minutes left. Piers rubbed his eye with a yawn before glancing at the time. It was close to eleven o’clock. Other than the characters talking and the soft soundtrack playing in the movie, quiet breathing was coming from his side.

Piers looked over to So Ah. She was leaning on the table, head resting over her arms. 

She was sleeping.

Of course, she was sleeping – she rarely did.

As gently as possible, Piers shook her awake, “So Ah–”

“Wh–what…” So Ah mumbled, eyes barely open when she pushed her head up, “Did something happen?”

Piers felt something tug at his heart, frowning, “No, we’re safe. Let’s get you to bed, c’mon.”

A drawled whine came from her, annoyed by having to move, as Piers led her to the only queen bed in the room. She lay under the covers, letting out a heavy sigh at the warmth of the thick duvet. 

“You leaving…?” So Ah murmured, her eyes already shut and some would mistake her for sleep talking.

Piers pressed his lips into a thin line, giving her a sympathetic look, “No. I’ll stay right here. You just rest, alright?”

“Mmh–kay…” 

After waiting for a second or two, she was back in her dreamland – or hopefully, it was a good dream.

Soon after a while of cleaning up and setting everything back into its place, Piers sat down on the chair and turned on her laptop. He threw a quick glance at her. 

The girl he had met on her first days as a BSAA soldier was barely there. All the timidity and delicacy that she’d ooze, she still had them. It all changed when he found her in the alleyway, fists and face splattered with blood. An equally bloody broken chair’s leg in hand. 

It was after a few days of their failed undercover mission.

Her eyes were red when she saw him, not even bothering to hide the disfigured face of the man she had just murdered. Piers had to drag her out as she was hyperventilating, her body trembling due to the high adrenaline rush.

When he got her settled in a motel, he received news a week later that a man from the BSAA’s research department had gone missing. He was the coordinator of his team. Whilst everything in him was telling him to turn her in, he knew she wouldn’t go and kill someone for no reason.

And so, the security cameras were wiped clean. Unfortunately, though, the crime scene had evidence of the girl being there. Additionally, the BSAA knew it was going to be her after her secret mission to steal information about the men who operated on her. 

Since then, Piers has been keeping her off the radar whilst assisting her to interrogate anyone who had a hand in the chip behind her neck.

Did he fully support her? Absolutely not.

He wouldn’t have killed Mason Cooper if So Ah’s life wasn’t on the line. In most, if not, all the murders that have been happening, the Han girl was behind them.

Piers only wondered how long was it going to take before she snaps. That whole night was still fresh in his head, on repeat ever since it happened.

✠

POP Fizz Bar. Washington DC, United States. Six Months Ago.

The liquor stung her throat when she took a tip, cringing at the taste of Brandy. The mission to get information regarding everyone who was involved in the creation of the chip was a bust. Although they got the files they needed, it was supposed to be undercover. 

Now the entirety of the BSAA knows it was her.

Trailing her eyes down to the flash drive right next to her new phone, a thought weaselled its way into her head. She could call him; call her husband. Piers had told her that they can try finding the big cheese who was in charge of the making of the tracker when it was safer. 

“There’s no need to make it worse than it already is.”

She could go home and all would be well. Along with the jazz playlist going on in the background, loud laughter and chatter reached her ears. Involuntarily, she looked over at the noisy table only for her world to pause at the only man she recognized from the group.

Alan fucking Browne.

He was the doctor who’d be in charge of her check-ups, but he was mostly focusing on the functionality of the chip rather than her safety. That and his strange fascination with her regenerative abilities, deepening each drag of the scalpel and counting under his breath.

It’d take three seconds for the gashes to heal.

Something was already starting to eat her up on the inside, devouring those rational thoughts. Her cinnamons refused to tear away from his table ogling a woman walking by only to start hooting at each other. And he only barked out another laugh.

So Ah returned her eyes to the flash drive in her hand, trying to fight back any ideas to do anything drastic. On one hand, she could get information from him – that was all she needed. On the other, however, it was too risky. 

A single wrong step in the plan would get the BSAA’s hands on her. That was the last thing she’d need this night.

Releasing a sigh to calm her nerves and ease her mind, she downed the remaining bits of her drink before pulling out the money for her bill. 

Piers was right; both of them can find a different and safer way to get to the bottom of this. The names of the men who were involved in the chip were in the files; others would probably need more interrogation to get to them.

Like the boss of it all.

She offered a small smile to the bartender and got up, slipping her mouth mask on. As she went to move past the rowdy table, for a brief moment, their eyes connected. Forest green and dark cinnamons. 

The cool breeze of summer made her breathe out, tugging her jacket around her as she started walking down the sidewalk. Though it was very faint, footsteps reached her ears. It was late at night and there weren’t a lot of people walking around other than the zooming cars.

Dread washed over her as she turned the corner, hoping it was just someone heading in the same direction but the footsteps remained with hers. Her hand snuck into her pocket and pulled it out, keeping an ear out as she hurriedly sent an SOS to a contact under the name NIVANS.

After returning her phone to her pocket, So Ah moved into a secluded alleyway, nose crinkling under her mask at the stench. The follower made his appearance just as she turned around to face him. It was a dark alleyway, add that to her mouth mask, she should be unrecognizable. 

It was Allan.

“Why are you following me?” So Ah asked, nearly snapping accusatorily as she attempted not to reveal her identity.

Allan only squinted his eyes behind his specs, “Miss Han So Ah?”

That froze her in her spot. 

“I didn’t know you lived around here.”

Her tongue was tied up, not knowing what to do. The tracker was long busted but its instability was what terrified her the most. At any moment, it could kill her. The man in front of her was bigger than her, and she truly didn’t want any sort of confrontation.

She just wanted to go back home – to her husband.

“Have you heard the news?” He noticed hesitance and stepped close, his eyes narrowing for a moment, "The research department went up in flames just two weeks ago. Thankfully, no one really died but we are down two teams in the ER. Do you know anything about that?"

So Ah snapped her eyes to the side and took a step back, her hand gripping her vibrating phone tightly. With a press of her lock button, the vibrations stopped. Hopefully, that was enough to trigger the only man she could trust – other than her husband – to hurry up.

"I'll take that as a yes.” Allan hummed at her silence before offering his hand, “Well, I'm going to need those files back."

"Why?"

"You don't get to ask questions, Han.” He shot back like he usually did whenever she’d complain during her visits at the BSAA’s medic centre, “You listen to the rules and shut it. Now, the files."

She narrowed her eyes down at him into a slitted glare, not saying a word. What the hell would she say?

She was told not to do anything drastic but what could she do now? 

Offer back the only lead they had?

This man wasn’t just a doctor; he served in the military as a soldier. She couldn’t take down Chris or Piers during her training at the BSAA; she wouldn’t be able to fight off a man twice her size.

"Alright, how about this?” Allan took out his phone as if nonchalant, “You give me the files back and I won't whistleblow your ass right here and right now."

"Tell me why you need it back first." So Ah retorted, eyeing his phone then him.

"Like Hell, I will.” He barked out a laugh, similar to the one back in the bar, “I'm on a tight schedule, so why don't you be a dear and hand them over?"

She stood her ground, hiding her crossbody purse behind her hands and harshening her glare at him. 

The man huffed, typing on his phone with one hand, "Alright, have it your way."

In an instant, she pulled out her Matilda and aimed at him, making him stop. He noticed her shaking aim and how her finger wasn't on the trigger. She had never shot a human being before; it was always the undead. When it came to fighting against a regular person, So Ah’s top priority was disarming them before knocking them out. 

Never kill.

Her voice was wavering, holding the gun with both hands, "Put the phone down, I don't want to hurt you."

Allan slowly returned his phone to his pocket and started approaching her with a challenging look on his face. He was testing her.

Damn crazed doctors and their sadistic nature.

“How will that look on the news?” He sneered as if he was a reporter, vaguely gesturing his hands into the air like a headline, “The daughter of the Han family murders an innocent man right outside the bar!"

"You're not innocent and you know that." She snapped, referring to her painful check-ups.

He stood right in front of her, boasting, "I was just doing my job."

She asked, taking a step back to put more space between them and her thumb rested on the hammer, "Who are you working for?"

Allan jeered at her, "None of your goddamn business."

Her eye twitched, internally freaking out. Turns out, stalling wasn’t as easy as she thought it was. So, she decided to provoke him and try to scare him off. Turn the tables, if you will.

"Tell me or I'll release the files to the public.” So Ah challenged, attempting to seem unafraid, “How would your boss feel about his whole life crashing down because someone wouldn't cooperate?"

His greens darkened, "Cooperate, huh?"

The gun was smacked out of her hands and before she could comprehend what just happened, he shoved her harshly. She yelped when she fell to the ground, rolling onto her lower back as he cracked his neck, taking off his jacket in the process. He folded it onto itself and put it on top of a closed wide trash bin.

So Ah stared wide-eyed up at him, crawling backwards. The grime of the dirty alleyway clung to her hands and clothes, but that was the last of her concerns – not when her heart was one beat away from bursting through her chest.

“Don’t worry,” Allan chastised, rolling up his sleeves with a smirk irking his lips, “The doctor is in.”

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. OH, FUCK.

Alarms rang around her head like that one Spongebob episode, mini versions of her running around and screaming. Every little plan or idea was being set ablaze by her adrenaline and anxiety.

As he was coming up to her, she nabbed a stray bottle of beer and jumped onto her feet. She swung it at him, but he reeled back to parry and then yanked it from her mid-air. 

Well, shit.

A grunt emitted from her when he pushed her to the wall, the hit causing another mild zapping up down her spine from her tracker. Before she could move, a hand gripped her neck hard and lifted her up. She wheezed in air, eyes growing teary at the loss of oxygen when even the tips of her shoes were frantically trying to keep touching the ground below.

Allan’s lips twitched into a scowl of disbelief, staring her down as her hands were gripping his arm and wrist in a feeble attempt to get sips of air.

“And this is supposed to be one of the DSO’s top assets?” He asked, raising a brow, “How embarrassing of Adam, bless his soul and whatnot.”

“It’s a shame how weak you really are when there’s that shit virus in your bloodstream.” He tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes, “Someone else could’ve put a good use to it.”

He glanced down at the bottle in his hand and shattered the bottom of it next to her head. She yelped and flinched at the glass breaking.

He neared it next to her face and pressed the sharp tip against the apple of her cheek, an insane glow in his eyes. 

"I think your checkup is long overdue, hm?"

In one swift moment, she felt something cold and painful slide across her cheek, making her cry out at the stinging sensation. His intent eyes stayed trained on the gash, uncaring about her whimpers. Just as she expected, she could peek at the faint counting on his lips.

Then his eyes blinked in subtle surprise when the new scar closed up as if nothing had ever happened.

“Five seconds…” Allan muttered, chuckling, “Guess you won’t be useful to us any time soon.”

“It’s your damned bug in my spine,” She spat, swallowing thickly.

She yelped when his grip around her throat tightened as if attempting to touch his thumb with his middle finger at the back of her neck. Her eyes boggled open, her breathing restricted. Allan only let out a small huh and loosened his hold just a little to let a glimpse of oxygen into her body.

“How fascinating…” He uttered with a smile, “The pathogen is attempting to push the chip out – which is why its regenerative ability is slowing down by the second.”

The hand holding onto the half-broken bottle seemed to harden in giddy and he tilted her jaw up, forcing a hitched gasp from her at the feeling of the sharp edge tracing her collarbones. It stilled in the centre of it.

“Let’s try this again,” Allan suggested with little to no choice.

Letting her adrenaline take over, So Ah’s hand hurriedly shot down to the scabbard around her mid-thigh and she yanked out her dagger. The blade sunk to the hilt into his side, earning a loud yell of pain.

His hand released her throat, allowing her to fill up her lungs with cool oxygen. In the midst of her haze and utter fear, she swiped the dagger across his thigh, sending him to the ground with another shout. 

Her knees crumbled under her, coughing harshly as she tried to gulp in the air as much as possible before her body would pass out. In her panicked fit, she yanked down her mask as if it was hindering her.

“Oh, fuck,” She heard him wheeze frantically, “Oh, fuck, shit, shit, shit!”

So Ah looked up at him, finding him gripping his waist and his thigh, blood coating his once-white t-shirt and denim pants. For someone whose whole profession was around blood, he sure was panicking as if he had never seen blood before.

Rage was covering her vision, and her whole body was triggered back to her old days in the lab. Her skin was on fire as she stood up, stumbling a bit with her hand rubbing her neck. Allan looked so pathetic on the ground, panting heavily as he tried to stop the bleeding.

His shaking hands didn’t know which one to pay more attention to.

No words came from her as she approached him, catching his attention at the blood dripping from her knife – his blood.

“Wait, wait! You want information, don’t you?” Allan waved his crimson hand at her, a desperate attempt to stop her, “Whatever you want to know, just – call nine-one-one. Please–”

“Who’s your goddamn boss?” She snapped.

His breath came out trembling, “I–I don’t know – we get indirect orders on what to do, and that’s it!”

She narrowed her eyes down at him, clearly suspicious about his answer, “The chip – how do I get rid of it?”

“I… I d–don’t know, okay?” He stammered then visibly panicked when she located her gun on the ground, especially when she picked it up, “P–please, just listen to me! I’m going to die out here if I don’t get help!”

So Ah wouldn’t look at him, staring down at his bleeding wound as she holstered her gun and knife. He was desperate enough to lie to gain more time to attract attention at this point.

Instead, her unreadable cinnamons landed on a worn-out wooden chair. 

“L–look, I know we got off to a wrong start. I won’t tell anyone about this, I swear.” Allan tried to wave the white flag, flinching when she slammed her foot down on the chair, “We could just turn the page an–and, drinks are on me. Yeah?”

All she could see was red, slowly picking up the broken leg chair. Her knuckles were whitewhite at her tight grip. She approached him with nothing but pure hatred in her eyes. 

“I’d rather drink paint.”

“Waitwait, no–!”

✠✠

A curse left through his lips, his hazel eye staring down at his phone intensely. Her location was pinged less than five minutes ago. He tried calling her, hoping it was accidental but when her line went dead, he knew it was no mistake.

She was in danger.

His car roared to a lower hum when he parked it around the corner of the POP Fizz Bar. Running his fleshy hand through his hair, Piers hopped out of the car, keeping his handgun tucked into his belt under his shirt and jacket.

He looked around him, his heart pounding erratically in his chest as he tried to locate her. Nada. 

“Goddamn it, So Ah. Where are you?” He muttered under his breath, taking out his phone once again to check her location. She was around this area, but where exactly.

Distant yelling reached his ears and his feet were quick to follow it. The last he had heard were interrupted pleas just as he rounded the corner, stopping at the beginning of the alleyway.

His eye refused to blink at the gut-wrenching sight. The girl who had pinged an SOS was on top of her assailant. The swinging of what seemed to be broken wood was endless, tainting it with blood. The same crimson substance splashed and splattered onto her clothes, hands, and her face – Jesus Christ, her face.

It was contorted into such blood rage and fear, yet those strong emotions didn’t hide the way her tears swelled up in her eyes. 

“Hey, hey!” Piers rushed into action to get her to stop, “That’s enough, So Ah!”

His arms went around her waist to drag her away from the man and he looked at him to try and find out who he was – except his face was disfigured. Any facial feature was either busted or drenched in blood.

“Let me go!” So Ah screamed when her weapon dropped to her surprise, writhing in his hold and he muffled his huff, “Don’t fucking touch me!”

“It’s okay, it’s me. It’s me.” Piers turned her around and held her upper arms to still her, “Hey–”

She refused to listen, her brain at an all-time high with panic. He could tell she was reliving days she wished they didn’t exist – he didn’t know what though. She was still in an adrenaline rush from being in danger.

When she wouldn’t quiet down, Piers knew he had to take control of the situation before any unlucky bystander thinks it was a girl in trouble and comes to investigate only to see the blood bath that same girl had caused.

“Look, look,” Piers flipped up his eye patch and then held her face firmly, forcing eye contact, “It’s me.”

Her struggles ceased as she whimpered, looking at the familiar kind honeyed eye and the other clouded one. Her chest was rising and lowering rapidly, clearly trying to get down from the intense emotions. 

“Piers…” She uttered quietly, blinking at the sight of him then trailed her eyes over his shoulders to where she once was. 

Piers saw her pale right in front of him, especially when she looked at her hands. Tremors made it hard to focus along with her eyes were blurred by caged tears.

“W–what… No…” She whimpered, shaking her head profusely in denial, “I didn’t…”

Piers frowned deeply, apprehensive eyes looking over at the body. She wouldn’t have murdered someone in cold blood. Seeing her frantic state concluded that it was fear. She was pushed to do this.

Just like that, her laboured breathing made her words incoherent, hyperventilating. She was stammering and stuttering, hiccuping at her sobs as tears streamed down her cheeks with no control. 

Piers returned his eyes to her, pressing his lips into a thin line and flipping the eye patch back on. He peeled off his bomber jacket and helped her slip it on, the sleeves being long enough to cover her bloody attire and her hands.

“C’mon, let’s go.” He pulled her along as he started making his way out of the alleyway.

“Piers,” She cried, unable to tear her eyes away from the body.

He interrupted her, “Don’t look back. Just keep going.”

His only priority was to get her out of there before the cops – or God forbid, the BSAA – show up.

That night when they had to reside in a motel to keep her hidden, through her hiccups, she explained how it all happened. To her, it was a red haze clouding her senses and setting her skin on fire as if reopening all the wounds that were once healed. 

The Han girl couldn’t speak much though, rushing to the bathroom to empty her guts at the mere memory of that alleyway. Piers had to sit by and watch it all happen.

She wasn’t a bad person. She didn’t want any of this – but for the sake of keeping both of them safe, she had to do it.

And he blamed himself for not getting there on time.

✠✠

Silver Spring  Maryland, Washington DC Present day.

He vividly remembers his life flashing before his eyes. In the bright light's void, a white woman approached him slowly. Her features were blurred by the veil but he could just feel that she was smiling softly at him. 

Her hand was held out for him.

It was all comforting, a huge sense of relief from the world’s burden on his shoulders. His body was growing lighter by the second and the man couldn’t do anything but succumb to the peaceful sensation – like a cool breeze washing over the dancing grass.

His fingertips barely brushed the woman’s hand before black ash covered her bit by bit. The ash floated away in the void, having her whole body turn into dust. The darkness was starting to replace the bright place when heavy arms went under his arms and dragged him away.

His breath was starting to quicken but all he could smell was black smoke. The woman he once saw was gone – and that was when he woke up.

Sort of.

Leon forced his eyes open as much as he could, seeing the blurred smoke of the explosion. The fire was still licking the air up above and he could hear muffled grunts and whimpers above him. 

Though injured and disoriented, he felt someone pulling him further from the scene as much as possible. A low groan emitted from Leon, head lolling and that was when he was dropped to the ground. The ringing in his ears hurt his head as he trailed his eyes up to see who was the mysterious man.

Despite not being able to focus just yet, he could make out that scrawny man anywhere – Patricio. His arms were hugging the suitcase of the evidence they had collected about the B.O.Ws. 

His lips parted to say anything but could only manage to hiss through his teeth as he pushed himself up. Leon gripped his side where his lower ribs were, flinching at the dull pain. His senses were slowly returning and his radio croaking to life got his attention.

“HQ to Kennedy. I repeat. HQ to Kennedy. Requesting report. Over.”

Leon couldn’t answer, eyes unable to look away from the aftermath of their truck up in flames. Several men were scattered on and about, some missing chunks of their bodies. They weren’t moving.

Panting heavily, Leon could only stand there, sweat dripping down his temple while the radio crackled to life once again. Distraught had never been more evident on his fallen face.

“HQ to Kennedy. Back-up is on the way. Over.”

God fucking damn it.

[pupmusebox]

-

[ Final Fantasy ]

Zack Fair Sephiroth Cloud Strife Genesis Rhapsodos Kuja Vincent Valentine Noctis Lucis Caelum Prickly(Cactaur/OC) Skylar(OC) Nicholas(OC) Tobias(OC) Rafael(OC) Prompto Argentum Ignis Scientia Gladiolus Amicitia Cecil Harvey Luneth Arc Ingus Kefka Palazzo Zidane Tribal Vivi Locke Cole Edgar Roni Figaro Sabin Rene Figaro Cyan Garamonde Gau Shadow/Clyde Setzer Gabbian Squall Leonheart Zell Dincht Irvine Kinneas Vaan Rufus Shinra Tseng Reno Rude

[ Pokemon ]

Togekiss/Hibiki(OC) Gallade/Shinobu(OC) Mimikyu/Tabb(OC) Mewtwo/Vero(OC) Lugia/Calin(OC) Ho-Oh/Kasai(OC) Arceus/Kadavul(OC) Lunala/Artemis(OC) Solgaleo/Apollo(OC) Necrozma/Lux(OC) Dialga/Ruka(OC) Palkia/Rozovo(OC) Giratina/Izael(OC) Latios/Taylor(OC) Latias/Quinn(OC) Rayquaza/Daven(OC) Groudon/Reese(OC) Kyogre/Kaiden(OC) Jirachi/Nova(OC) Deoxys/Alec(OC) Shaymin/Sage(OC) Victini/Flynn(OC) Genesect/Briar(OC) Volcanion/Rex(OC) Magearna/Cleo(OC) Diancie/Blair(OC) Melottea/Wren(OC) Wes Ethan Silver Red Green Adaman Rika Piers Allister Gladion Drayton Crispin Giovanni Archer Petrel N Harmonia Maxie Archie Volo Cyrus Brendan Wally Steven Stone Wallace Lucas Barry Saturn Lucian Flint Buck Riley Hilbert Cheren Nate Hugh Calem Lysandre Elio Guzma Chase Rei Kieran Arven Atticus Giacomo Ortega Grusha Larry Hassel Jacq Salvatore Saguaro Prof. Turo

[ Persona ]

Naoya Toudou Tatsuya Suou Makoto Yuki(P3 MC/Protag) Ryoji Mochizuki Jin Shirato Takaya Sakaki Shinjiro Aragaki Akihiko Sanada Yu Narukami(P4 MC/Protag) Yosuke Hanamura Naoto Shirogane Kanji Tatsumi Tohru Adachi Teddie Akira Kurusu/Joker(P5 MC/Protag) Yusuke Kitagawa/Fox Goro Akechi/Crow Futaba Sakura/Oracle Ryuji Sakamoto/Skull

[ Golden Sun series ]

Issac Garet Ivan Alex Saturos Felix Piers Agato

[ Legend of Zelda ]

Link Zelda Sheik Ganondorf Midna Zant Kafei Vaati Shad Auru Sidon [ Sonic series ] Sonic Tails Knuckles Dr. Eggman Rouge Shadow E-123 Omega Silver Victor Espio Charmy Emerl Chaos Metal Sonic E-102 Gamma Black Doom

[ Animal Crossing ] Tommy Timmy Isabelle Tom Nook [ Vocaloid ] KAITO MEIKO Len Kagamine Gakupo [ Megaman Series ] Megaman.EXE Lan Hikari Eugene Chaud Protoman.EXE Baryl Colonel.EXE Iris Zero(Rockman Zero) X Zero Spider Bass.EXE

[ Fire Emblem ]

Marth Ike Soren Sothe Ranulf Tibarn Naesala Reyson Volug Zelgius Robin(M) Chrom Morgan(M) Gerome Inigo Corrin(M) Byleth(M) Claude von Riegan Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd Hubert von Vestra Seteth Rhea Shez(M) Arval

[ Splatoon ]

Kit/Captain 3 Drey/Agent 4 Zeke/Agent 8 Kyte/Neo Agent 3 Agent 1/Callie Agent 2/Marie DJ Octavio Pearl Marina Shiver Frye Big Man

[ Stardew Valley ]

Sebastian Sam Shane Elliot Alex Harvey

[ RWBY ]

Adam Taurus Qrow Branwen Salem Cinder Fall Winter Schnee James Ironwood Penny Polendina Weiss Schnee Whitley Schnee Blake Belladonna Yang Xiao Long Ruby Rose Lie Ren Ozpin Jaune Arc Sun Wukong Mercury Black Neptune Vasilias Fox Alistair

[ Fate ]

Ritsuka Fujimaru Ozymandias Gilgamesh Caster Gil Proto Gil Kid Gil Setanta Cu Chuluiann Proto Cu Caster Cu Alter Cu (Culter) Archer Emiya Shadow Emiya Alter Emiya Diarmuid Ua Duibhne Saber Diarmuid Aiden(OC) Aouregan(OC) Arthur Pendragon Immaru(OC) Izar(OC) Lugh(OC) Connla(OC) Achilles Chiron Romani Archaman Bazett Fraga McRemitz Asterios Fuuma Kotaru Merlin [ Fullmetal Alchemist ] Edward Elric Alphonse Elric Roy Mustang Envy Greed Maes Hughes [ Black Butler ] Sebastian Michealis Claude Faustus [ Devil May Cry ] Dante Nero Vergil [ Resident Evil ] Leon S. Kennedy

[ Trigun Stampede ]

Vash Nai/Knives Nicholas D. Wolfwood [ Homegrown Pet ] Hector Eli Pierce(OC) [ Elevator Pitch ] Protag Coworker [ Dead Plate ] Vincent Charbonneau Rody Lamoree [ Diabolik Lovers ] Ayato Sakamaki Laito Sakamaki Kanato Sakamaki Shu Sakamaki Reiji Sakamaki Subaru Sakamaki Yuma Mukami Ruki Mukami Kou Mukami Azusa Mukami Shin Tsukinami Richter Karlheinz Kino

[ Mystic Messenger ] Zen Yoosung 707 Jumin Han V Unknown/Ray [ Piofiore ] Dante Falzone Nicola Francesca Henri Lambert [ Fandomless OCs ] Draco Noire (Vampire) Aristaeus (King Bee Demon) Leo Cooper/Chase

[ Genshin Impact ]

Zhongli Venti Aether/Traveler Kaeya Diluc Albedo Tartaglia/Childe Itto Alhaitham Gorou Tighnari Cyno Xiao Wriothesley Neuvillette Il Dottore Pantalone Il Capitano

[ Honkai Star Rail ] Caelus/Trailblazer Blade Boothill Adventurine Dan Heng Gepard Gallagher Dr. Ratio Jiaoqiu Jing Yaun Luka Loucha Moze Sampo Welt [ Jujutsu Kaisen ] Satoru Gojo Yuji Itadori Sukuna [ Dragonball series ] Goku Gohan Android 17/Lapis Cell [ SpyxFamily ] Twilight/Loid Forger

[ YGO ]

Yugi Moto Yami Yugi/Atem Seto Kaiba Joey Wheeler Dartz Rafael Mahad/Dark Magician Jaden Yuki Syrus Truesdale Chazz Princeton Bastion Misawa Zane Truesdale Atticus Rhodes Aster Phoenix Jesse Anderson Jim Crocodile Cook Yusei Fudo Jack Atlas Crow Hogan Astral Kite Tenjo Trey/Micheal Arclight Quattro/Thomas Arclight Quinton/Christopher Arclight Reginald Kastle/Shark/Nash Rio Kastle/Marin Ray Shadows/Vector

[ Digimon ]

Tai Kamiya Yamato ‘Matt’ Ishida Koushiro ‘Izzy’ Izumi Daisuke Motomiya Ken Ichijoji Takato Matsuda Lee ‘Jen’ Jianliang Takuya Kanbara Koji Minomoto Koichi Kimura

[ Obey Me!/Nightbringer ]

Lucifer Mammon Leviathan Satan Asmodeus Beelzebub Belphegor Yuki(OC MC) Xavier(OC) Diavolo Barbatos Simeon Solomon Luke Raphael Thirteen Mephistopheles Michael Mael(OC) Dante(OC) Caius(OC) Silas(OC) Ignatius(OC) Samuel(OC) Belial(OC) Raguel(OC) Theodan(OC) Neo(OC) Zephyr(OC) Kuro(OC) Asura(OC) Meagera(OC) Astraroth(OC) Gardonus(OC) Lilith(OC) Cerberus

[ Twisted Wonderland ]

Azul Ashengrotto Vil Schoenheit Riddle Rosehearts Malleus Draconia Idia Shroud Leona Kingscholar Jade Leech Floyd Leech Jack Howl Ruggie Bucchi Kalim Al-Asim Jamil Viper Ortho Shroud Ace Trappola Deuce Spade Trey Clover Cater Diamond Epel Flemier Rook Hunt Lilia Vanrouge Silver Sebek Zigvolt Divus Crewel Dire Crowley [ Undertale/Deltarune ] Sans Paparus Mettaton Frisk Kris

[ Nexomon ]

Omnicron Ulrich/Grunda Nadine/Ventra Fenrir/Fona Merida/Arqua Deena/Nara Zetta/Luxa Nexolord/Metta Solus/Omnisun

[ 7th Dragon III: Code VFD ]

Yuma Kisaragi Yamato Mishiru Jet Sakaki Yuujin Nabaru Bastian Renstu Kirino Kirika Mei Nami Aogiri Urie Nio Misha Azerin Katanako Chelsea Citorin