#and he's coming for things that i LOVE (ghost mod)

[bad-traffic-smp-ideas]

according to oli's new video, player-possessed mobs can still breed...

obviously, I had to tell you, the ghost mod expert, about this new and VERY interesting development!

I've heard......

[mandalhoerian]

lamb to the slaughter | leon kennedy x reader

read part 1: moth to a flame pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader summary: ❛ You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. — Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince. ❜ It's as easy as that three word sentence for Leon to undo a month of moving on from him right after he comes back from Spain. Easy as surrendering to sleep. Eagerness for his uninhibited love makes you forget he isn't one to open up like that in the first place, you should have known the moment he showed up on your doorstep on his own volition that he wasn't your Leon. He'd only come back to spirit you away. Yet, each man kills the thing he loves, as a famous poet would say. But what about when the beloved lets herself be led to the killing? word count: Almost 25K (im sorry) warnings: DARKFIC, proceed with caution. porn with plot, switch leon, yandere leon (kinda? he's infected/plaga leon), lots of smut (face sitting, dry humping, couch sex, rough sex, mirror watching kinda its a window, chained leon, blowjob, tail riding, kinda bondage with chains, creampies, no protection dont be like this kids), jealousy, angst, things go to shit, abduction, leon infects you, protectiveness, confinement, psychic connection through plagas, corruption, consensual arousal-inducing venom. you got the bad ending. lmao dont look at me. we are not seeing the pearly gates notes: 🐑 i say bad ending for a reason, you can accept this as a sequel to moth to a flame or just ignore it! 🐑 leon's appearance here is inspired by the red eyes mod + the mechanic of his superior species is built on what we saw with krauser and all the plaga leon fanart i've seen. though he only lets his tail out and nothing else. 🐑 the pressure of leon's characterization got too much so i threw it all out of the window. now everyone can be equally upset. thank you for all the love, i hope you enjoy this!

🌀 read on ao3!

Leon comes back from Spain a bit different. 

Different is the specifically chosen word here because you’re not accustomed to seeing him like this. It might be you who’s the problem here, but right off the bat something’s out of place to you.

A pattern has been broken.

No contact with him for nearly a month and he appears on your doorstep one night with a dreamy smile on his face you could only imagine a younger, more carefree version of Leon could afford as if all the weight of this world has been lifted off his shoulders, and as if he isn’t here to pick up whatever he’s left behind after your break-up. 

You’re more flabbergasted than anything. He’s absolutely glowing. Healthy. His black compression shirt leaves little to the imagination underneath that leather jacket, and the tight jeans hug his legs in just the right places, your nose picking up the whiff of some rich cologne that would have you normally salivating over him had it not been for the timing. 

A delivery to home directly from your late night daydreams, tempting as a mirage in the middle of a desert, as he intends to be — you’re acutely aware why in the hell he’s dolled himself up at night knowing you’d be either reviewing some documents for work or getting ready for bed, all in your humble, homely peasant outfit. 

It doesn’t feel good knowing what might be the reason. Feels even worse sensing something’s up. 

The thing is… When Leon decides he’s done with ghosting you after the eventful business trips that have him dropping off the face of the earth, it’s almost always in bad shape. It’s rare that he breaks a bone or two, but purple, yellow and green are his colors, along with the sunken, red, and sleep-deprived, exhausted eyes. He comes back to you like a cat seeking refuge from the storm outside, for a safe place to get some rest where he can switch off the survival mode. And you’ve learned to prepare for these rainy days he tends to make his return on. 

This man standing in front of you with take-out dangling from his hand, relaxed and confident with light in his brilliant blues, perfectly silky hair, and a well-rested, handsome face that lacks all the gloom? You almost don’t recognize him. His soft and exuberant voice as he greets you, “Hey,” might as well belong to a stranger. “I look that bad? Haven’t seen you make that face in a while.”

“No,” you refuse automatically, squinting your eyes and trying to wipe the sleep off via rubbing, shaking the initial shock and the whiplash off, your hand tightens on the side of the door. The more entertaining quips have escaped you, such as: ‘More like, haven’t seen you in a while, and that, second.’ But of course your woozy first instinct is to relieve him, and rooting for how Leon can’t look bad even on the worst of days, but that’s irrelevant now, isn’t it? “Sorry, I’m a bit loopy.”

“Ah, shit.” He raises his wrist and shakes it so the sleeve of his jacket would pull back to reveal his watch. “I didn’t realize it was this late. God I am so sorry—”

“No, it’s fine—”

“I bring offerings for your time, if it’s any consolation.” He looks hopeful. God, when has he last been this youthful? It’s blinding. “Have dinner with me?”

You would have jumped at the offer one month ago and done your best to keep him around as long as possible, especially when he’s the best you’ve seen him in a long while — but he’s supposed to be a stranger to you now, an ex. You have tried to move on already, it’s such a betrayal to your overworked heart that the desire to bask in his presence is still strong as ever. 

“Hey, um.” Ever so slightly hiding behind the frame of the door, you watch as his face falls, your hesitance telling everything you can’t put into words out loud. “It’s too late for dinner.”

It comes out weird from your mouth, maybe you should have worded it differently — it feels like it’s not dinner you’re talking about, and him staring with a wrinkled line between his eyebrows as if he’s trying to control his countenance isn’t helping. 

“Should seriously focus on trying to break old habits,” he chuckles hesitantly, a voice crack towards the end of the sentence, and you have to break eye contact. “I forget my normal isn’t normal sometimes. I’m sorry.” 

You fold. 

Not because it’s what you always do, but to get whatever he wants out of the way and get him out of your life as abruptly as he decided to randomly come back today. You want this to be over already. “I’m making an exception for tonight, okay? You can’t come here like this anymore, Leon. Please understand.”

Leon's hopeful expectation slowly fades, replaced by a disappointed understanding. His eyes, once filled with a vibrant light, now dim slightly, and the confident aura that surrounded him wavers for a moment. He takes a deep breath, as if trying to steady himself, before nodding slowly.

"I see," he says, carrying a tinge of sadness, you kick yourself inwardly for wanting to reach out and comfort him. "I didn't mean to intrude. I just... I wanted to see you again… To—to explain, I mean."

His words catch your attention, curiosity sparking a small candle light within you. Despite the whirlwind of emotions and confusion, you find yourself opening the door wider, gesturing for him to step inside.The way he visibly relaxes, shoulders deflating and the flash of an involuntary relieved, tiny smile on his face before he follows you inside makes your chest contract in endearment. 

This is a grown man you decided to let go. This grown man walked out on you. This grown man made you lose years of your life. This grown man doesn’t need your protection, you shouldn’t want to hide him in your ribcage, you’d be taking in a fish instead of a bird. 

The aroma of the take-out food fills the room, teasing your senses and reminding you of all the shared meals and late-night conversations you used to have. Memories flood your mind, threatening to break down the walls you had carefully built to protect yourself.

God, it hurts. He brought your favorite that he doesn’t like all that much. 

You go ahead and settle at the dining table, the take-out boxes placed between you and where he usually sits — where he used to sit whenever he came over, your base instinct embarrasses you. And as you open the containers, you look back to see what’s taking him so long or if he’s left to wash his hands, and notice that he’s just standing there in the hall, engulfed by the shadows, looking alert in the direction of the living room. You can’t see his face. 

“Is everything alright?” you ask, weirded out by how tense he is suddenly. 

He turns to you, and the kitchen light reflects strongly in contrast from his eyes precisely because he stands in the dark, like some cat. “It… smells.”

“What?” You walk over to him, mortified, trying to pick up what he’s talking about. “Is it the floor cleaner? I changed it to lavender recently. What, you don’t like it?”

“No, you… You—” He takes a few slow steps away from you as if you said something hurtful to him, awe and betrayal taking over his features. 

“Leon,” you try to reach out, confused. 

He’s looking you up and down, the weird shock he went through transitioning into perturbance. “Who is it?”

“What are you talking about—?”

“There is someone else?” He points towards the living with his chin, a look of devastation twisting his forlorn features, arms basically flattened to his side. “You brought them here and— and—”

An icy wave of chills wash over your body. “How do you know that?”

“Because it smells.” He brings a hand up and puts it on his middle as if it’s hurting, alternating between rubbing his nose and down to his chest again, like he doesn’t know what to do with his body. “Shit.”

Leon's reaction takes you aback, his sudden accusations leaving you bewildered. This is the most ridiculous thing you ever heard, what is he, an animal?  “Smells? You smelled him?”

You can’t fathom how he could have possibly known about someone else in your life, let alone the details of their presence in your home.

He gestures with his hand and slaps it back to his side, pressing his lips into a thin line before speaking. “Wonderful.” 

Never in a million years would you have expected to see Leon get bothered by another person in your life. He just isn’t the type to react, this has happened before because of course you tried him, to see if he’d get jealous the way you did — he didn’t, something about you having the right to be with anyone you want and that he can’t stop you. This was early into your ‘arrangement’ — where the line was blurred between hanging out and sleeping together, and you were naive enough to bring the scattered, floating letters between him and you together to define the word. 

This right here has to be about something else, bitterness maybe, that you could move on from him. It gets you worked up, blood slowly heating up. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. We’re not anything, Leon. Not anymore.”

Leon's gaze hardens, and for a moment, it seems like the fragility of hurt and anger flashes and trickles in. He sharply inhales, his chest rising and falling as he tries to steady himself. "I know we're not anything." He flexes his jaw, turning his face to the side in self-inflicted disappointment. "And I’m the reason, that’s on me. But damn, it’s only been a month and I’ve been miserable while you—"

You take a step closer, looking to find the middle ground in all of this. "While I’m just going about my life.” Confusion swirls in your mind as you struggle to comprehend Leon's reaction.You hadn't anticipated such a visceral response from him. You don’t know why the next second you’re trying to smooth things over to spare him, there’s no need. But you still are doing it anyway. “And he and I are friends—"

He tilts his head, something entirely cold and hostile under unreactive stoicism squares his shoulders, it’s that perpetually uninviting face of his that scares everybody off. His nostrils flare, but his voice is low and smooth. “Friends that fuck on the couch?”

“How did you—” It’s the cold chills again. “This is getting weird. How can you know that?”

Leon's eyes narrow, and the tension in the room becomes almost palpable, your nervousness almost makes it like the blue of his irises are brighter. He drops to a low, dangerous tone, but he isn’t doing anything to be threatening, so why?—. “It’s dangerous, you know? Letting unknown guys into your home. Who knows what they have in mind? What they want to do to you?”

“Sex, Leon,” you bite back, a bull to red into your apprehension, thinking why in the hell should you be intimidated when he’s being the weird one, you still have to hear about how he knows about your relations. “We had sex. Don’t be dramatic.” 

He laughs in a way you’ve never seen before, and suddenly it’s making sense why you felt like something was wrong when you opened the door to him. Maybe he’s drunk on something different today and it’s influencing him. Different liquors have different attitudes. 

“I, on the other hand, have to still hear about how you know. Have you been spying on me?”

“I apparently should have.” 

“Excuse me?” You shake your head, trying to rationalize the situation where he is practically lacking, lost in his own head, his usual personality is currently unavailable to the call for reasons unbeknownst to you. He is a calm guy. Reasonable. You don’t get where this immaturity is coming from, anger-related or not. “Leon, you can’t just go ahead and talk lightly of invading my privacy! I don’t want to joke around right now!”

You should send him away to talk later, or both of your hearts are going to break ugly tonight.

Leon's gaze doesn't waver, his eyes narrowing with a mix of concealed pain and anger. "No, I wasn't spying on you," he retorts sharply, giving you the information you want to know. "But it's hard to miss when the person you care about moves on so quickly."

So he must have seen something? He came back from Spain earlier than you thought? Was this visit about interrogating you all along? 

You hate the way your hands warm up immediately with his admittance to caring about you, even though he will never outright say that he likes you or anything more. It’s unbelievable that’s what your heart decided to pick up on instead of literally anything else right now. 

The hall feels suffocating. It's as if the air itself has turned tar-thick. You take a step back, and escape into the kitchen, trying to gather your thoughts amidst the rising storm of confusion.

“I thought you wanted this. Why would me moving forward be a problem?”

“Because I can’t.” 

You want to yell at him. Why should that be your problem? He wanted this. You prepared yourself because he was perpetually with a suitcase in his hand, so much so you can’t imagine his visage otherwise.

Be calm about this. You’re a grown adult. 

"I don’t understand.” Hands grabbing at the handles of a chair, you spare a glance at him over your shoulder. "I thought we would give each other space, go our own ways."

A bitter laugh escapes Leon's lips, devoid of any humor. "Space? That's just another word for running away, isn't it? And haven’t you immediately found someone else to run towards? That’s how important I was to you, huh?"

The accusation stings, and you struggle to find the right words to defend yourself, his honesty coercing the affection out of you within the ice of self-preservation. "Leon, it's not like that. I’m trying to navigate my life, this isn’t me trying to get back at you or hurt you."

He runs a hand through his hair, frustration carved into every line of his face. "Well, congratulations. You succeeded anyway."

This is getting ridiculous. You don’t know how to handle the situation because he never put you in one like it in the first place. 

How are you the guilty one? How is the blame on you, now? Why? Being with him was slow torture, loving him was a doomed gambit, and now he has the gall to make you into the bad guy — for what, prioritizing yourself for once? 

The silence hangs heavily between you, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the city outside. It feels as though the foundations of your bond are crumbling beneath the weight of unresolved emotions, the connection you once shared now seems fragile, teetering on the edge of irreparable damage that you’re not sure you want to let go even though it really is the best solution to let it be. You remember how you told him that break-ups don’t always have to end in fights, it seems how the afterward would be like hasn’t crossed your mind at all. 

“Ironic of you to say that,” you mumble, turning away from him with a disbelieving smile, hands on your hips. 

“What?”

“I said,” you turn around, cold anger freezing your features in a silent mask. “That’s rich coming from you. Running away, I mean. All this time I’ve known you, you’ve run away from me—” With each example you give, you take one slow step towards him. “From intimacy, from a deeper connection. I know you couldn’t help but be away for your job and that’s not the issue here.” You stop right in front of him, seething, looking up, doing your best to keep your shit together as you shake a finger at him. “But you don’t have the right to accuse me of running away.” 

He just stands there like a statue. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t look away. As if this means nothing at all to him, forever the unaffected, desensitized man that he is. You have to flatten your lips to keep them from quivering.

“I’ve had to chase you like some race horse while you were sitting right next to me,” you jab that finger into his chest, not to get something out of him, but because the floodgates were finally open. “I have betted on losing dogs this entire relationship.” Another jab. “I let you treat me like a doormat.” Jab. “I gave you the patience and understanding some mothers wouldn’t give to their children—” And it finally ends with a slap with the back of your hand on his wall of a chest. “Because god smite me I made the mistake of falling in love—” A fucking joyful, pretty sparkle in his eyes that has his eyebrows lifting. It bloods your boil like nothing else. “—-and all of this for you to come into my home and pick a fight over who I fuck after breaking up with me?” You push him — or, rather, try to push him further back into the hall, and when it doesn’t work, raise your arm to point to the door. “Get out.”

Leon's jaw tightens as he stares at you and you see it jump, his gaze piercing through you, ablaze. He tries to grab you by the elbows but you shake him off. “Sweet girl, I—”

The nickname has you on the edge of crumbling and you ricochet back as if burned. “No, nuh-uh,” you rapidly shake your head and one hand at him, eyes burning, deliberately looking at his shoulder not to make eye contact. “You don’t get to call me that anymore. No. Just go. Get out of my house.”

The room plummets into an agonizing quietness filled by the heavy breathing you’re doing your best to stop from shaking as Leon stands there, his hand still lingering, frozen in a futile attempt to reach out to you standing in the light of the kitchen, and him in the shadows. The absoluteness of your words is the hammer of a judge about to fall on his head, sharpened by your anger and the shattered remnants of your flightless hopes. 

You never wanted this. It had ended so peacefully, why was he back as a vengeful ghost bringing the worst out of you — why now? Why?

Finally, Leon lowers his hand, his gaze falling to the floor. There's a momentary lowering of his guard that flickers across his face, a crack in the armor he usually wears. "I know I messed up, and I've been running away. But it's not because I don't care, it's because... I'm — I couldn’t give you anything. Not anything you deserved. Not everything I wanted. And I couldn’t face any of that without having to confront I needed to get out of your life," he says softly, caked with remorse and self-hatred. “Like being somewhere between life and death, I didn’t know what to do, how to move forward.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you feel your anger momentarily waver, you’ve seen the pain in his eyes before, the demons that haunt him from his past — you understand, you understand. In every reality possible, you’d understand, even when you don’t know. “I know, Leon.” The acknowledgment leaves you pained, but this time, don’t give anything in consolation, don’t justify the harmful outcomes of his escapism just so he wouldn’t be scared and pull himself back. Yes, you know. But that’s it. It has to be enough.  

“I want you to also know — I’m not that man anymore.” He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out tentatively, but you flinch away, unwilling to let him touch you, and he stands right at the threshold of shadows bleeding away into the light streaming from the room behind you. 

"Are you seriously about to tell me you changed, Leon? Really? No, I know you," you assert, your voice tinged with skepticism and a lick of frustration. Folding your arms across your chest, you wait for his response, your gaze fixed on him, brows furrowing but a slight smile souring your lips. “But I’ll humor you. Tell me, what could have possibly happened in such a short amount of time, because I’m not having it if it’s about us separating—” It’s mean, the way you outright grin at him, one small part of you regrets laughing at his face when he’s declaring he’s changed, but you can’t stop the poison from wanting to sink into his skin, from wanting to see yourself affecting him. “You, my late blooming pupa, had two whole years to break out of your cocoon. Don’t even waste your breath.”

Leon meets you head on, unfazed by your demeanor, it makes you feel like a child when you were in the right, brings sense to you that this was Leon you were trying to hurt, you knew he wouldn’t give you excuses some man after some piece of ass would — the hurt is bringing the girl out of you that wants to maim as she has been maimed, and he just stands there and takes it as if he wants to show you he’s had way worse before. It isn’t fair.

He takes a moment to steady himself, his hand unconsciously fidgeting with the edge of his jacket as he prepares to explain, raising his hands up and tracing the invisible line of the veins inside his wrist. His body language conveys a distant sense of sincerity. 

"I received a gift that opened my eyes," he confesses, his voice carrying a brooding, yet grateful significance. His eyes momentarily drift, as if lost in memories of what transpired. His fingers continue to rub along the veins, he’s recalling something, it’s not a self-soothing nervous habit that betrays his inner turmoil.

Your skepticism wavers, switched with a curious glimmer. The lamb sees the slaughterhouse and thinks it’s home again. You unfold your arms, inching closer as you invite him to elaborate. 

"It saved me. Gave me a new life. Changed me.” He pauses, looking far, far away again. “It changed everything," Leon states with a sense of conviction. He stands a little taller, his demeanor transformed by the profound impact of this revelation.

Your eyes flit in rapid blinking, captivated by his warm, honest intensity. A welcoming, pleasant surprise lingers on your face as you take in the magnitude of what he's sharing.

"Changed everything?" you question, holding back your wonder and uncertainty in fear of disappointment. Your body involuntarily leans forward, drawn in by where he’s taking this.

"Yeah. For good this time. Because I’m not… bound anymore, I’m not trapped. For the first time in forever, I know what it’s like to be truly free.” 

“Oh…” You begin to speak, but words escape you. He is uninhibited, truly elated, that soft smile on his face doesn’t carry the anxiety of what comes next. This is a first for Leon Kennedy. When you remember you mocked what might have happened to him, it fills you with shame. So, something truly wonderful did happen — could happen. It has to do with his job, that much you know. No wonder he’s insisting things have changed, what he does for a living is what haunts him like a shadow, after all, you couldn’t be more aware of that. “I’m… I’m happy for you, then, Leon. I don’t know what to say.”

“You’re not wrong for doubting me. I did.” He looks down at his arms, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I believed I had changed before, you know — had been changed, whatever you wanna call it... Because I had to," Leon admits with introspection. He pauses, searching for the right words to convey the depth of his experience. 

"Then someone I know told me no, you haven't, you just think you have. And both of those options are worse than each other in retrospect, don't get me wrong,” his voice cracks slightly, revealing the conflict within him. There's a flicker of nostalgia and longing. 

He takes a steadying breath, his eyes locked onto yours, conveying a yearning for understanding. This is the most open he’s been with you, the most you’ve seen of him, you’re hypnotized.

"I envy who I was in 1998, but I don't want to be him. The me one month ago is superior, but he was miserable and fucking blind," Leon confesses, the air around him somehow gravitating towards him, becoming hard to breathe because of how hard he’s frowning. Self-deprecating. And his eyes are on you again, back to the moment. “You wanna know how I know I’m different now? I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything.”

He steps forward, into the kitchen, into the light, and shadows dance on his face, and you know what this is — the cat has decided he wants pets, seeking to butt his head into you to initiate contact, and you step backward with the sudden panic sinking in your stomach, but he keeps advancing the more you back off. 

“I’m not afraid anymore,” he rasps, and you make a small sound at the back of your throat. “Not afraid of what I want. Not afraid of wanting. Not afraid of what comes next.”

“Leon—” you interrupt, hands shooting forward, hovering just between you two, feeling his body heat, but terrified of touching him in fear of what might ignite inside you if you do. 

But he catches both your hands, intertwining your fingers and pinning them on two sides of you on the counter the moment your hips hit the lip of it, and you’re immediately steaming underneath your skin, shutting your eyes and turning your face away as his body snuggles in, flush against you. 

“It’s pathetic, the person I used to be—” he breathes, a gentle invitation, a subtle beckoning, though his words are harsh, he’s uttering them so sweetly like it’s a love letter to you, and hot wind from his words licks the side of your face, you can feel the feathery touch of his lips moving a hair’s breadth from your cheek. Your heartbeat is hammering. “He would have bitten his tongue and gone right back home to lick his wounds. Never see you again. He would think it’s what’s best for you, that he’s protecting you this way.”

You swallow, and he chases the motion, head following the movement. His nose caresses the column of your neck, the sigh that escapes his lips echoes the hidden depth of his desires, an unspoken language of pining. 

Your breath catches in your throat as Leon's increasing body heat and tantalizing weight knead and melt you like dough, his words moving you from within, his proximity creating a charged volume that crackles with tension and desire you were fighting so hard to deny. Every fiber of your being is acutely aware of his presence, his warmth pressing against you, and the raw defenselessness he's revealing. 

You missed this. You missed this. You missed this. 

The blood coursing through your veins sings to him, sings for him, and you’re alive again after one month of absolute emptiness, and hate him for doing this to you.

Love him for coming back. 

His grip on your hands tightens, and you can feel the tremor in his touch, mirroring the intensity of his emotions. “Look at me.” 

You know you don’t want to, because if you were to see him right now, what he’s showing, what he’s finally allowing you to see, you wouldn’t know how to look away ever again — don’t want to hurt.

Your own heart races in response, fear and anticipation swirling within you. And he places his knuckles on your chin, gently guiding you to face him, “Don’t look away.”

Your glazed over eyes lock with his in a moment that feels suspended in time.

"Leon..." you murmur with a blend of longing and caution. The weight of unspoken possibilities bursts in color in the air between you, begging for acknowledgment.

He nuzzles closer, his lips grazing your skin with feather-light touches. Your body reacts instinctively, a tremble washing through you as his sigh tickles your neck. It's as if the world around you fades away, leaving only the magnetic pull between you, drawing you inexorably closer. It’s sweetness so intense it’s trying to hold back the bitterness, a muzzle on a hungry dog’s jaw. 

His voice, a whisper against your ear, is temptation, a pied piper. "I don't want to make the same mistakes anymore. I can't keep denying what I truly want, what my heart desires. I can’t lose you. I’m not losing you. Not like this. Please."

The admission electrifies the mood. Time stands still as you process everything, mind foggy, your own desires intertwining with his. It's a precarious precipice you find yourselves on, teetering between the past and the mirage of a future, between fear and the possibility of something more.

“That’s awfully self-centered,” you laugh weakly, not knowing if this is you unable to look away from his lips or unable to bring yourself to meet his gaze. “What if it’s too late? What if that ship has already sailed?”

He nudges your nose with his, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. “You don’t want me? Look into my eyes when you tell me, then.”

In that moment, you make a choice. With an upsurge of courage, you do as he asks, searching his need-darkened patience waiting for you, and you let your guard down. Closing the remaining space between, your lips find his in a tender yet fervent kiss, an unspoken consent that verbalizes everything. 

God, you want this man with all your being. One moment of vulnerability, the confirmation you needed for so long from him was enough to melt all your walls down and conquer without war — the things you let him do to you… 

What was tenderness from you ricochets back from him as desperation, he licks into your mouth like a man starved, and a sigh shudders from Leon, you feel it roll through his entire body. He catches your waist in a tight, unyielding grip, his touch conveying a scared need to hold on to you, as if to make sure you're real, and not a fleeting dream. 

“Fuck, I want you so bad. Never wanted more in my goddamn life.” The pent-up tension and unspoken emotions flow between you, igniting a flame that burns brightly, dispelling any doubts or regrets. “Let me have you. Please, let me have you.”

“Give me half of you, and I’ll give you half of me.” His lips, soft and warm, melded with yours in a passionate embrace, separate with a wet pop. “How’s that for a start?”

Leon's lips attempt to dip into yours again, but he wavers to a panting stop, leaving a lingering, ticklish warmth in their wake. His declaration, filled with a mix of intoxication and determination, spills forth. “‘ll give you all of me,” he mutters, his kisses raining down upon your skin in a frenzy of affection. “—Give you all my love. Want all of yours, too.” 

Love. He said love. 

Someone must have hit you over the head, you feel like it, all breath is knocked out of your lungs.

Leon pulls back only inches when he feels you freeze in his arms, and you see it in his eyes — he doesn’t try to hide it… 

And you realize, you’ve seen the ghost of this look before, the shyer one, the more apprehensive, curt one that was prone to hiding away. The pure adoration on his face makes him look younger, like a whole other man. 

Yet, you ask. It’s all you’ve ever wanted from him, only a passing acknowledgement and you’re a sunflower bending over backwards with the first rays of the sun. "You love me?"

Your stomach does a summersault at feeling his heart miss a beat.  "Y... yes?" he stutters, his voice rising. "Yeah."

All that romantic talk. All the insane things he said, and it’s scary to him when the word is spelled out loud. 

The room goes completely noiseless for a moment, your ribcage might as well explode at this point, and then he lets out an audible sigh, trying to calm himself down. "Is that so strange to you?" he adds. "Is that... something you... don't want?"

He knows what you feel. Known it all along, danced around it for both your sakes. Yet, he’s still asking — exposing that defenseless underbelly of his that reveals he thinks he’s unlovable, not worth it, skeptic that someone could want him in that way. 

His eyes stay locked with yours, but some of his confidence seems to have drained away. All that's left is his look of pure, unbridled infatuation, and the expression of genuine, unwavering honesty.

Your mouth seems to have gone dry, heartbeat picking up, stomach swirling, looking at him like he's out of this world, eyes flying everywhere on his face. No words come to mind for a good while. It’s a slow blooming flower at first, but the beaming of your smile takes him aback. “It’s all I wanted,” you practically exhale. 

He makes a small noise of relief and chokes out a smile. 

As your lips mold together again, a new symphony of sensations unfolds. His kiss has the devotion of held-back hunger, lips seeking and exploring every contour of yours, and you surrender completely. To how he desires you, to the intoxicating pull between you, letting your inhibitions fall away. There is only the searing heat of his touch, the intoxicating sweet taste of his mouth, the mint from an already discarded gum and something uniquely Leon, and the synchronization of your combined breaths.

He moves downwards to take nip at the corner of your mouth and then your chin, a soft hum escapes from deep within you, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure he makes you feel by the littlest of sensualities.

“Leon…” Your hands find their way to his tousled hair and a waft of his shampoo fills your nose, you pull him closer, yearning for more of him. The room fills with the heady scent of desire, starting to pool deep in your stomach drop by drop.

He bites down on your jaw, knowing just how to make it pleasurable and not hurt, and you gasp out loud. “Sweet girl, my sweet girl,” he chants. His lips find their way to the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing a path of feverish kisses and gentle nips. “My sweet girl.” Each sensation sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, leaving you rasping and yearning for more. 

You arch into him. His hands, now guided by a primal instinct, roam freely over your body. They explore every curve and dip, tracing the contours of your silhouette as if committing every inch to memory. Fingers dance along your spine, leaving a trail of delicious shivers in their wake, before finding solace in the small of your back. 

With a firm yet gentle grip, he lifts you effortlessly, placing you on the counter, the cool surface contrasts with the scorching heat that burns even your palms up as he slots between your legs immediately afterwards. 

With a delicate yet possessive grip, his hands glide along your upper thighs, and a needy warmth trickles down to the crevice he grinds his crotch against, the roughness of his jeans delectable against where you need him. 

Your own hands, emboldened, mirror his actions, eagerly exploring the planes of his chest, nails dragging through the fabric. Overwrought fingers interchange between pulling on his leather jacket and the compression shirt that hugs him so tight it won't stretch. “Get this off."

A low growl reverberates deep in Leon's chest as your hands keep hungrily tugging at his clothing, seeking to peel away the layers that separate you. “In the kitchen? That impatient for me?” 

Ah, he’s trying to embarrass you. Not going to work. “Shut up you hypocrite, you made me come on your thigh in broad daylight, in the kitchen.”

“I don’t remember you complaining,” he grins against your lips, and you feel him grow bigger, straining against the cage of his jeans. “God, you were so fucking hot using me like that. Want to see you more — pleasure yourself more — in front of me. I was about to make a mess of my pants like some teenager, just looking at you and,” he rocks both of you upwards as he babbles, and your hands glide down to cradle his flaming neck, your eyes closing, head spinning with his words. “Your pussy on me, shit. I still feel it.”

“Stop running your mouth and get these off then,” you half-heartedly order, not at all an attempt to hide how turned on you are and practically dying to feel him already. 

He opts to tease, “What the lady wants, the lady gets,” like he’s only doing it because you asked him to, but he willingly complies, his movements hinting to be fueled by a shared hunger and a desire to feel your touch against his bare skin.

The leather jacket slides off his shoulders, revealing the sculpted contours of his chest, accentuated by the tight shirt that clings to him. And in one motion, that’s also off, you don’t even get to watch how his muscles ripple and flex, but your hands are on him right after, groaning at just how high his body temperature is, how wildly his heart is beating underneath your palm.

Your mind short-circuits at something foreign wiggling underneath your palms on his chest and not at the way he’s sucking red flowers on the underside of your thrown back chin. 

Your mind can be playing tricks on you, because you swear you can feel something move underneath his skin that’s not tendons, but before you can dwell on it, his lips, now free from their exploration of your neck, capture yours once more in a searing kiss, filled with a soulful need, an unspoken plea for more, as if he wants to consume every ounce of you. 

“Can’t believe kissing alone feels this good,” he says. “I could just do this all day. Have you on my lap, underneath me, above me, and just.” Your lips are teasingly bitten and tugged on. “Have this to myself.”

As his hands continue their tantalizing journey along your thighs, inching higher, you find yourself surrendering to the exquisite sensations. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, craving more friction as the restlessness grows tighter. 

The hardness of his crotch presses against the heat between your legs, creating a delicious ache that demands to be satisfied. He hisses and sighs into your mouth. “Fuck, I can’t wait. Hold on to me.” 

Leon has his arms locked tight around your legs clamped on his legs the next second, and begins to carry you out the kitchen as you hold onto his shoulders, once again in awe of how easy it is for him to manhandle you like this without at least grunting. 

You think he’s taking you to your bedroom and worrying if you left it too messy, but where you find yourself sprawled on your back instead, is the fucking couch in your living. 

The couch your one night stand had his way with you on. 

You sense a subtle shift in the currents of his shadowy gaze bearing down on you, in the flicker of his eyes, in the tightening of his jaw, that you glimpse a revelation you have not anticipated hidden beneath layers of charm and composure, the shifting of tectonic plates beneath calm waters. It’s uncharted territory. A dormant beast awoken from slumber, his demeanor betrays an unfamiliar greedy intensity that enthralls you. Once soft, subtle adoring nature of his, now holds a smidge of territorial longing, as if he yearned to claim you as his own, to wrap you in the cocoon of his desires, the undercurrent untamed, raw, unfamiliar — both to you and him. You’re no stranger to his intensity, his passion, but this is foreign to you. 

With surprised anticipation, you laugh to hide the nervousness. “I didn’t know you could be jealous.”

“I didn’t know I was capable of it either.” His big palm comes down on your stomach, fingers fanned out, and it drifts up as if he’s just taking you in, with some pressure sinking into you, and your shirt rides up because of it, exposing your stomach all the way to the beginnings of your lower ribs. “Of this much need to monopolize.” 

He hooks a strong arm around your waist and tugs you a bit up to meet his descending mouth to your revealed abdomen, leaving wet kisses and kitten bites all over, teasing by faking you out that he’ll go higher to play with your aching breasts, the tip of his nose touching the bottom curve of one and then going lower. Either way, it’s your loss, heat keeps pooling in the ever-so-hungry pit as your panties become uncomfortable already. He knows how to build you up.  “It’s so ugly in my head right now because of this goddamn smell—and all I think is what I’m looking at right now was seen by another man. Wanna fucking tear into you to get rid of it.”

You quip, “Does he smell that bad?” amused, an attempt to distract yourself from how easy he has you, hands finding his hair again and tugging, eliciting muffled groans from Leon, but the promise of roughness thrills you, the shiver going through you perking your nipples up. You honestly didn’t know he had this much of a sensitive nose up until today, goes to show how little of himself he showed you in the past. 

“He reeks.” He drags his blunt nails through the line of your waist soothing it with feathery, tickling, lazy strokes of faint pleasuring zaps as he bucks into your clothed core, drawing hisses and gasps from both of you. The rough zipper line of his jeans accentuated by his hardness hits just the right spot, you could do this forever — gosh, you have a wet spot in your panties, it feels gross but it’s so warm and it’s so good — 

Oh you love the way his eyes darken, the way his voice deepens ever so slightly when things you never thought would come from him in a million years are sent your way, goosebumps awaken all over you at the, god, you can’t believe you’re saying possessiveness. “We could, you know, get it reupholstered. If you’re paying for it—” 

“I have a better idea,” A devilish smirk curls at the corners of Leon's lips as he lifts his head from your abdomen, eyes glinting. His grip on your waist shifts to the waistband of your pants, teasingly tracing the edge. “How about instead I reclaim it so you won’t be able to sit on it ever again without getting so hot and bothered by what I did to you here. Hm?”

His touch sends invigorating currents coursing through your body, pooling desire between your thighs. You arch your back, wordlessly urging him to continue. and he kneads your hips, digging into your flesh with a delicious pressure. “I’ll make my sweet girl so fucked out stupid she forgets any touch that came before me.” He squeezes once and your cunt just throbs. “Only remembers my name.”

Fucking hell. 

"But if it bothers her, I'll consider reupholstering," he continues, a hint of playfulness there. "She’ll just have to pay in other ways."

A mischievous gleam dances in your eyes as you match his playful banter. "Oh, I have a feeling I can think of a few ways to make it worth your while," you purr, your fingers still tangled in his strands, urging him to bring his lips back to yours.

“That right?” Leon's chuckle reverberates through his chest, vibrating against your skin. He leaves a trail of heat and moisture on your stomach as he climbs up, capturing your mouth in a hungry kiss, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth with a fervor matched only by his growing desire.

His heat washes over you, and your breath hitches as you struggle to control the rising tide of need, and you can’t stop the small whine from escaping when he tempts. “How would she like it?” with hooded eyes, you see him imagining — thinking, living the filth out in his brain and not hiding it from you at all. The thought of being completely consumed by him, of surrendering to his desires, sends a torrent of suspense coursing through your veins.

With deliberate slowness, his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your pants, grazing over the sensitive skin of your lower abdomen, and you nod fervently, wanting Leon to stop with the leisurely approach and just fucking throw you around or bury his fingers into your pussy already — “Use your words sweet girl.” He chuckles when he sees the delicately restrained agitation of yours, his touch is both gentle and possessive, his fingertips tracing maddening circles that dangle you over promised pleasure.

His piercing stare ensnares you, a captivating force that renders you powerless. His inquiry lingers, emphasized by his almost restlessly eager fingers massaging your skin, akin to a tantalizing vow of sensual delight. In this very instant, a revelation dawns upon you—Leon's unchained greed does not arise from insecurity alone; rather, they stem from an unquenchable thirst to know you’re his, to conquer every fragment of your being and eliminate any shadow of uncertainty.

In a flurry of emotions, your words spill forth, infused with a potent blend of yearning and submission. “Take me, I want you to take me. Wanna feel only you…” Succumbing to the irresistible yearning surging through your veins, you surrender yourself to the overwhelming craving that courses within you. “Any way you want.”

His jaw falls open slightly in shock, like the shape of language has left him, hold stilling around you in an iron grip — the way his cheekbones get slightly pinked gets you bucking up to him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smile, extending your arms at him like you’re asking for a hug. “Make me forget however you like.”

His chest expands with the big breath he sucks in, a guttural growl escaping his throat, a primal sound that makes him feel almost inhuman with another trick of the light that makes his veins appear darker, dancing, almost, as he pulls you up, leaves you dizzy with how quick he reverses your positions, it’s his back on the plush cushions now, one knee bent a little bit and you on top of him, straddling his lap. He’s looking up at you, and you flash to how you had him exactly that way before he left for Spain.

“Sit on my face.”

You blink a couple times. “What?”

His fingers catch the band of your pants and underwear. “I want you to ride my face.” The small grin that breaks out on his face after licking his lips is downright sinful. “Wanna be fucking suffocated by you.”

“Will you be alright—”

“It’s nothing to me,” The persuasion is nonchalant, like he has experience being waterboarded and it’s something trivial. “I said I’d make you remember me whenever you sit on this couch, didn’t I?” 

His request is bold, ramming the boundaries of your comfort zone, there’s the fear of crushing him and there’s the embarrassment of how he’d receive your weight, yet overcome by the part of you that craves to fulfill his desires, overtaken by how he always wants to give pleasure and not take it. 

You slowly rise from his lap, and he momentarily releases you from his hold. Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for the waistband of your pants, undoing them and sliding them down your legs, along with your underwear, his dilated pupils are fixated on the silvery thread of your arousal stretching. Your heartbeat quickens, a flush heating your body up at the deep assertion of, “Attagirl. Come here.”

With a deep sigh, you find the courage to surrender to the experience, encouraged by how much he seems to want this. You shift your position, allowing him to steer you to straddle his face, your knees sinking into the soft cushions on either side of his head. Your core hovers tantalizingly close to his waiting mouth, aching for the pleasure he promises to deliver. 

Not knowing when his hand sneakily crawled between your legs, you are caught by surprise when he drags a finger through your slit, gathering the moisture and spreading it around. “This all for me?”

“Hmmm,” you confirm, heartbeat shooting straight downwards, pulsing against his finger. “All for you.”

“Don’t be shy, take a seat,” A deep rumble vibrates in his chest, he’s looking drunk already, and you twitch upwards with the way hits your wetness, then, he’s massaging the tension of your thighs holding your body up. “All of your weight, sweet girl. Don’t hold back. Just sit. I promise I’ll make you feel so good, it’ll feel so good, just—” He raises his head to lick an galvanizing stripe right where you want him and you moan, the experience all the more elevated by being able to see how his eyes flutter close as if he’s feeling in and the focused pinch of his eyebrows. 

Trembling legs weakened by his begging, you begin to lower yourself onto him, the searing, wet warmth of his breath against your sensitive, aching folds making you gasp. His hands guide you and you hold onto his bulging biceps, his touch firm yet gentle as he helps you find the perfect angle, anchoring you in place. 

“Le – ah! Leo—n!” You can’t even arch off from the couch when his mouth dives into your tender cunt, only able to throw your head back and tremor in place because he has you in an iron grip against him, fingers sinking into the plush of your hips the moment he hears the stutter of your sweet whining. 

He hums, and you feel the vibrations reverberate inside you, mouth hanging open when his tongue delves in, as well. 

“So good — shit…” You fall forward, hands finding purchase on the armrest of the couch, your nails digging into the fabric as his skilled tongue dances against your most sensitive parts, exploring and teasing with an expertise that leaves you respiring, a particularly shocking jolt of ache striking and leaving your vision with dancing stars when he gently nips at your clit with his teeth, your hips spasming, but unable to even squirm in peace because he won’t let you move away from him. “That! That — ah, yes, yes!”

He is just delighted and it shows in his excited panting when it gets you to start rocking your hips in sync with him, and after a while, falling back and letting you take control of the pace. 

He traces delicate patterns against your most intimate parts, setting a pattern and then breaking it, building you up and pulling you back down, teasing and exploring with a fervent hunger. “That’s perfect — yes, Leon, you’re making me feel so good, you’re — hmm! —”

The groaning moan is swallowed by an even prettier whine when you pull on his hair, it wasn’t the intention to get him to do this, you were just particularly feeling good, but you try again, and he shudders this time, a more restrained version of the sound, you swear, literally makes you gush. 

“You sound — you sound so pretty moaning from making me feel good— So pretty—” You can’ complete the sentence as he sucks on your clit, only able to babble. “So pretty, so pretty…!”

You absolutely weren't expecting being accidentally called pretty would be the final straw to start palming himself against his jeans and fucking dry hump his hand, leaving only one hand to hold you down, and he wraps his entire arm around your waist to staple you to his mouth, you feel the veins and the flexing muscles on your skin from how much strength he’s using, and it’s enough to heighten the throb in your cunt.. 

“You’re gonna come in your pants from eating me out?” The bucking of your hips becomes harsher, faster, the coil in your stomach tightening just from seeing his blissful mien and urgency of his hip thrusts, walls contracting around his tongue. “That’s so fucking sexy—”

The pleasure builds, spiraling higher and higher, each flick of his tongue sending you higher and higher, his ability to read just when you get close is exquisite, and you enjoy him slowing you down, each flick and swirl of his tongue pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy, but not quite getting you there, his own hand matching that pace and edging himself on, as well. 

The world narrows down to the sensations between your legs, the sound of your own moans building in speed and pitch mingling with his fervency, a blast of heat building deep within you unexpectedly fast, like dropping from the peak of a roller coaster, a wildfire spreading. “So close, so close, so close so closesoclose!”

You cry out his name as your pleasure crescendos, he holds your gaze the entire time through it, an explosion of sensation that engulfs you in waves of ecstasy, your voice mingling with his muffled groans of satisfaction against your sensitive flesh, body oscillating with pleasure, every nerve ending electrified by the intoxicating completion Leon provides — and he laps everything up, 

He does not give you one single break. 

The next second, you’re knocked on your back, and then flipped on your stomach like a ragdoll, and he shoves you up toward the other armrest of the couch until you have to hold onto it and hold yourself up — and you have to, from how much your thighs are trembling. You don’t even have the time to look back after hearing the frantic fumbling of his zipper being pulled down before feeling his rock-hard length gliding through your puffed and abused cunt, and a pained whine shakes your body as you snap your knees shut. “Leon—Leon—I can’t—”

“You can,” he coats himself in your dripping wetness, and you’ve accidentally created more friction for him by snapping your legs together, he’s just dragging himself against you, not entering, but pushing strong enough that it gets you to shake and squirm to get away, but he hooks one arm across your torso and grips your shoulder, pulling you up so your back is flush against his sweaty, burning chest. He extends an arm and places his hand just beside yours for support. “You’re so perfect taking everything I give you. My sweet girl, always so good to me, so gorgeous — just look at you.”

He gently nudges your chin up to get you to look at something, and —

You are looking straight at the reflection of yourself in the window ahead, Leon’s chin on your other shoulder, he is also staring, watching you there — both of you look so fucked out already. 

He seems to be in a more of a drunken daze than you are, his hair is so sexily messed up as if it was deliberately styled, the fact that it was you has you clenching around nothing. You hiss when the head of his cock slips in momentarily, only to slip out as he keeps the motion of sliding back and forth,  teasing, edging, your moans become softer, yelp-ushered, and shorter.  

“Look how pretty you are,” he nips at your earlobe, looking straight into your eyes in the window. You see the raw desire etched across your face, the sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, and the unbridled lust that courses through your veins — the sight of yourself, lost in the throes of passion, sends a rush of arousal through you. 

He begins to bite and suckle at your neck and shoulder as the edging persists, the tension within you, yet again, beginning to stretch beyond belief without a snap at horizon, your whole body is quivering at how fast it’s coming down on you. 

“I’m gonna— Leo–n, please, please—!”

You’re teetering on the edge of ruin, the need for release becoming all-consuming. You cling to his well-built, thick arm holding you to his chest, seeking an anchor amidst the overwhelming pleasure. A particularly sharp bite at the most meaty part of your shoulder makes you cry out and he begins mumbling in your ear, needy, and keeps up the same pace just for your pleasure even though he sounds so needy. “Come for me, I want it, pretty girl, come on, give it to me—” 

With a final plunge, Leon relinquishes the tease and thrusts deep inside you, filling you completely to the hilt, and your vision goes completely white as pleasure crashes over you in a wave of intensity, your body attempting to thrash around with the force of your orgasm, his chest shudders at your strangled cry. 

He stays buried deep within your convulsing walls and just breathes and softly hisses as you come down from your high, following you as you fall forward to rest your head on your forearms on the armrest. 

He plants kisses on the ball of your shoulder, trailing a line all the way to the other one, and then coming back to your nape. “You okay?”

You whine in response, completely blissed, and feel him jump inside you.

He sighs with force. “Don’t rile me up like that just yet.”

“‘m not doin’ ‘nything…”

“You don’t know what you do to me.” His chest rumbles from how thick and deep his voice lowers, albeit in affection. “You could be watering flowers or something and I’d go out of my mind for you.”

You weakly sputter in laughter, heart expanding nonetheless. “Watering flowers?”

“Yeah, I mean—”

“Couldn’t you have chosen something mundanely and unconsciously sexy. Like, I don’t know, sitting and reading a book?”

He scoffs, but you can tell he’s tiredly endeared. “Reading is sexy to you?”

“Well. You squint your eyes and clearly need glasses but the concentration is definitely hot.”

“I don’t need glasses.”

“You do. Leon, baby, you squint when you’re trying to read—”

“Maybe because I’m trying to understand what I read—”

“You don’t understand anything you read, then? Because you do it all the time.”

“That’s ridiculous, I’ve never had a problem with my vision.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah, sure, dumb jock of mine.”

He responds with one singular fast and shallow thrust, testing the waters, lips curling up against your shoulder at the sweet sound rising from you. “You must have gotten the rest you needed if you’re sassing me.” 

“Fuck—” you hiss at the stretch, so delicious, stings so good. “Leon, can we just—”

“No,” He presses you forward, squishing you, and one of your hands digs into the armrest and the other one on his forearm that lines like a special pillow just for you to bury your head in. Your teary eyes accuse him in the window, your mind playing tricks on you again and makes it seem like they flash a deep red at you like some demon in your imagination. “Eyes on the window, watch me.”

He starts torturously slow, setting a lazy ebb and flow, the tip of his cock aimed to hit your G-spot every time he inches into you, his fingers are curled underneath your chin and still making you watch, but you can only look at how feral he is marking your neck like he’s some vampire, sucking and popping noises spreading around your body in ripples, and behind your tears, you can see the red eyes still on yours.   

“Faster,” you sob, feeling like you’re about to pass out from yet another building orgasm but know ultimately that’s not going to happen and it’s just how well he wrecks you. 

He moans obscenely into your ear, completing that with a delighted hiss as your nails mark his forearm laced with defined veins. “Gonna come for me again, huh? How many minutes has it been, and you’re gushing already? Are you just that perverted or is it me?”

“Yes, you, it’s you.” You throw your head back and rest it on his shoulder, and he lowers the fingers on your chin to hold you by the throat against him, putting slight pressure with at the two sides of your neck — not cutting your airway, but the blood flow to your brain, plunging you into cloud-soft, pleasure-fueled fuzziness.

“Inside?” he asks for permission, strained. His thrusts pick up, not shallow, but brutal all the way, and so do your whimpers. “Can I—” 

You can imagine the sensation of the warmth of him spilling into you. You’re so thankful for actively looking for hook-ups before this and getting on birth control for it. “Yeah, inside, come inside me—”

He bites down again, it has to be a new favorite thing for him, and he reaches down to circle your clit, pressing and playing, gentle and then sharp. 

You feel a familiar fullness growing, and clench yourself up, it makes Leon hiss. “Bathroom—” you choke, panicked. “We have to stop, I have to—”

He doubles the finger on your clit and you squeak, squeezing your thighs together — something’s coming and he keeps hitting that spot over and over and over again — you’re going to fucking wet yourself — “Leon, I’m serious, I’m gonna—”

“It’s not what you think it is,” he says, reassuring, caring, peppering kisses everywhere.

How is he so sure! 

“No, no, I can’t— Leon, Leon, Leon, Leon!”

Third time, third time it’s something else, you can’t, you can’t—

“You can.” He grunts, smothering your squirming by his weight. “Go ahead sweet girl, just like that. You’re doing wonderful, I got you. Let it go. Let it come.”

You hear the brief spray of something, the trickle of liquid between your thighs and the intermittent whining of his as he comes inside, but you swear you fucking pass out for a good fifteen seconds from how the coil of pleasure detonates in your core and shatters your consciousness in a foggy haze.

You fucking squirted. 

Didn’t even know you could do that. 

He made you because he was jealous.   

“Asshole,” you cry-mumble, trembling like a leaf. “My couch.”

He just laughs. His eyes are still glowing red in the window’s reflection. 

You’re too sleepy for this.

You’re dreaming that you’re Leon. 

It’s a weird nightmarish vision bleeding pulsating black at the edges probably fueled by imagining him as a mean demon ravishing you yesterday. 

One moment you’re looking down at yourself suffering in your sleep at the backseat of a car, head resting on his lap, some blond man even buffer than Leon is driving the car, you can see the outline of a scar at the side of his face and you call him Major Krauser; and the other you’re intensely gazing at yourself in the bathroom mirror, eyes are still red, but this time, there are dark veins mapping all over your body, all over your face, and they’re pulling back and moving.

You startle awake to an unfamiliar bedroom, a dull ache in your chest, weak and absolutely sick to your stomach that it feels like your guts are restlessly moving around. 

“The hell?” Just where are you right now? This isn’t your home. “Leon? Leon!”

Soft, muted hues adorn the walls, casting a serene ambiance that envelops the room, but you’re far from calm, the tight feeling in your chest pushing up into your lungs. Gentle lighting, emanating from carefully placed fixtures, are dancing upon the surfaces, creating a mockingly soothing ambiance with a faint scent of cleanliness, mingling with freshness.

You are on the plush bed, adorned with crisp linens and plump pillows, the centerpiece of the room, with bedside tables holding the essentials within arm's reach. Ahead is a cozy seating area with its comfortable armchairs and a snug loveseat and a work desk, strategically positioned near a well-lit window or a dedicated reading lamp. This awfully looks like a hotel room. 

He emerges from a door, and you see the glimpse of a bathroom behind him before he shuts it behind him. “Hey, you’re awake.”

The anxiety of the gap in your memory dissipates the moment you see him.

“And confused, where is this? Why don’t I remember getting here?” You grimace and prop your body to sit up, pressing the heel of your hand to where your heart is, his eyes flicker to the motion, eyebrows dropping down. 

He sits on the edge of the bed, faintly smiling, trying to hide his worry. “You were sleeping.”

You reach for the bottle of water sitting on the bedside table to your right. “And why did you feel the need to bring me somewhere while I was asleep?”

He eerily looks mysterious for a second. “You remember me talking about the gift I was given?”

“Yeah..?” 

“I’ve shared it with you.” 

“Oh-kay…” God, that water was heavenly. You weren’t aware that you were parched. “Is that why I feel sick? Did we go out last night and get blackout drunk or something, is that it?” 

“You feel sick?” You stop playing with the plastic bottle when his face hardens. “You shouldn’t be hurting, why…”

“Can we dial it back a little?” You raise your hands, remembering your priorities. “Leon, where are we? I can’t be here, I need to go to work, there is this article about the Spanish guest President Graham has dropped everything to meet with today and I need to get it out—”

“I’ve called in for you. You’re good.” 

Well. 

It was truly the right call to make given just how weird you’re feeling, just on the precipice of getting badly sick, you’re grateful he took the initiative for you but it wouldn’t have been bad to be told before he did this. The newspaper could have caused big trouble. “I would have appreciated it more if you asked me first.”

Leon looks genuinely bothered, you don’t know if it’s because you’re telling him off. “Sorry about that, I had no time before—”

“Time for what?” 

“Well…” He trails off, lost in thought. “How about I start from the beginning?”

“I’m more than happy to listen, but first, where are we? Spoilers are fine.”

A voice you don’t know abruptly cuts in and makes you jump. “Spain, sweetheart. You’re in Spain.”

Why the hell is there a stranger in your room?

“Who the hell are you?” You pull the covers up even though you’re not naked and dressed in a casual outfit you have no memory of throwing on. His presence in this room feels like a security breach because you’re in bed. “Why are you — Leon, why is—“ 

“Krauser.” Leon shoots up from his seat in urgency. “I told you to—”

What he said registers suddenly. “Spain?” You’re unbelievably alert. It’s the guy you saw in your dream, driving the car. Leon calls him the same name you heard in it, as well. “Leon, who is this, what is he talking about?”

His chest puffs up in concentrated dejection, misery engulfing him as he looks at you, mute. You ask him with your eyes to tell you the random guy in your room is kidding, but he doesn’t. 

You edge closer to the other side of the bed like you’re some scared animal. “What the fuck is going on?”

The glare he gives to the guy would have scared you shitless had it not been for the shock you’re going through. “Get out.”

This isn’t a prank. 

You finally explode, hands gripping the linens in a tight ball, heart beating a mile an hour. “Listen, I would like to be spoken to! Spain? Can you please explain it to me already!”

“Your boyfriend has given you the Las Plagas parasite, and you’re here to go through the initiation ceremony, so to speak. You’re to be presented to our Lord. Sorry, kid.” A pitying chuckle. “Should have had better taste in men.”

Huh.

Huh?

The very military-looking man, with the beret and the outfit and all, says it with the most fed up and serious intonation ever that a loud, ringing, involuntary laugh comes out from you and rings in the room, but something in your stomach hurts from the force of it, so you double down in pain, gasping. Something moves in you. “What… God, fuck, ow…”

You clutch your abdomen, the pain intensifying with each passing moment. It feels as though something is writhing inside you, twisting and contorting with a sickening energy. It’s foreign. Doesn’t belong in your body, you’re about to hyperventilate. 

Your mind struggles to process the gravity of the situation unfolding before you. Spain? Parasites? Initiation ceremony? It all sounds like a macabre nightmare, but the agony coursing through your body is alarmingly real.

You don’t know when Leon moved to get to you, but he is next to you all of a sudden, supporting you, eyes widening with concern, his earlier mysterious demeanor crumbling away. He moves swiftly, his hand reaching out to prop you. "Easy, take deep breaths, it’ll pass, I promise, I’ve got you," His voice drips with something icy as the person he’s addressing changes. “You told me that shit would take away her pain.”

Major Krauser watches the scene unfold with a mixture of detachment and sympathy. His presence is imposing in his stern countenance. "I told you it would make it easier," he interjects, gruff. "The worst of it is over. Superior species process differently than the regular one."

“Can’t we just—”

Fear grips you like a vice as you try to comprehend the magnitude of what is happening. "Why... What have you done to me?" you manage to make out, wavering with both pain and confusion.

His hands move gently, yet frantically to caress your arms in attempts to comfort you through the pain. “I saved you.”

“Oh, you are gone in the head, rookie.”  

Leon looks scary, a barely contained rage just under the surface, gripping you tighter. 

Your mind races, trying to make sense of the fragmented information you've been given. It all feels like a nightmarish delusion, an absurd reality you've been thrust into.

What’s going on? Just what’s happening right now?

Gasping for oxygen, you manage to choke out a question, desperation just beneath. "What kind of sick game is this?"

Krauser, stoic and unyielding, interrupts with a dispassionate tone, his eyes fixed on you with an unsettling intensity. "It's not a game. Lord Saddler seeks vessels, chosen ones who can carry the power of Las Plagas. You were chosen, through Leon."

You reel back, disbelieving. "Chosen? Lord Saddler? Leon, what in the world—"

Leon's gaze turns somber, regret across his face. "I made a choice, so we could be together. So you would be protected." He becomes pleading. “The world is about to change forever—”

Oh what the fuck.

You begin to cough uncontrollably, slapping a palm on your mouth, whole body wrecked by the velocity of the fit.

There’s blood when you remove your hand. 

“Oh, god,” you whimper, but the spillage of blood also marks the ebbing away of the pain, it’s gradually fading.  

“Make her drink it again. It should be fine, three days have passed.” 

Major Krauser, the enigmatic man who claimed you had been infected, remains stoic but watches your distress intently before leaving the room from another door. 

Three days. Three days? You slept for three days?

“I want to go home. I want to leave.”

Leon sighs, visibly sad. “I know, sweet girl, but I can’t let you go anywhere right now.” 

“Why!” You yank away from him, crawling to put some distance between him and you. You trust Leon, you see that he is loyal to you, but can’t stop freaking out. “Then explain it to me! What the hell is Las Plagas or whatever the hell it’s called! Just what did you do to me?”

“First, you have to know I’m — I was a government agent. I work to wipe out bioweapons, the kind in Terragrigia. That’s the basic gist of it, anyways. Spain was a mission. To save the President’s daughter.”

“What.”

Throughout the long and agonizing day, you continue to plead with Leon, hoping desperately that he will release you from your confining prison. Each time, he feigns sympathy and expresses apologies, but his determination remains unyielding. The realization that the man you love has become your captor sinks its fangs deeper into your psyche, a tormenting truth that threatens to shatter your sanity.

Moved to a more luxurious room, attended to by servants who treat you as though you were some revered figure, you feel the suffocating weight of your captivity. Leon, on the other hand, freely comes and goes, moving about with an air of authority and control here in this unknown location. 

The stark contrast between your roles within this twisted dynamic only further amplifies the madness of the situation. It becomes increasingly difficult to maintain your composure when everything around you appears normal, yet you are trapped, on the verge of losing your grip on reality.

Leon's attempts to justify his actions, delivered with a soft and soothing cadence, only serve to deepen the chasm between the man you once knew and this deranged version standing before you. He speaks of a global project involving the parasitic vaccination of the entire world, claiming that he only sought to protect you and longed for your reunion in this new world order. 

According to his words, everyone will be connected through what he refers to as the Holy Body, and he brought you here to shield you from the chaos that looms outside. He even speaks of defying some enigmatic figure known as "their Lord," as if he had waged a battle for your favor against him.

It’s insane. He’s insane, but looks perfectly okay saying all of this stuff. Leon wasn’t like this one month ago, it’s Spain that changed him, the dots connect themselves — the gift that he talks about wasn’t a gift at all, he was most likely infected against his will like you were, and now believes in the batshit crazy nonsense he’s talking about like it’s gossip over tea.  

You realize quite a bit late that this is a cult because of his perfectly ordinary demeanor. He’s Leon and you trust him, and it stalls your thought process. 

You have to repeat it over and over again to process it.

Leon took you against your will, to a fucking cult. 

They even have a name for god’s sake, Los Illuminados — the ‘servants’ are cultists. It’s easy to fall into the normalcy and accept it the way Leon puts it, like some fairy tale, like telling you about news from another country. 

With the new knowledge of his past, you don’t know to be in awe of him or terrified, your whole relationship unraveling in transparent context littered between the lines as you rediscover who he is as a person and why he did the things he did — but definitely lean towards the latter the more you can’t get through to him to let this stop already, it becomes more clear to you very quick there’s a certain instability to him now that wasn’t there before, something dark as if he’s balancing himself on the razor’s edge of control, it swims closer to the surface whenever you mention you want to go home. 

The Leon you remember was gloomy at times, yes, but he was also rational, calm, and grounded. He was unyielding in the face of adversity and never subscribed to such ludicrous beliefs. The dissonance between the Leon of the past and the current incarnation, who mindlessly parrots the teachings of the cult, leaves you utterly bewildered. You struggle to reconcile the two versions, grappling with the question of who he truly is and why he committed these unthinkable acts.

In these moments, when Leon reverts into the preaching mode, his gaze becomes vacant, as if he is merely regurgitating the words he has been fed. It is only when his attention turns to your well-being that glimpses of the man you love flicker to the surface. 

The conflicting emotions within you reach a boiling point, leaving you paralyzed and unsure of how to proceed.

The gaping divide between the Leon you once cherished and this altered persona rattles your very core. Fear grips your heart as questions swirl in your mind. What now? What lies in store for you? The uncertainty looms like a dark cloud, casting shadows of doubt and despair over your fragile existence.

The answer and possible salvation comes to you in the form of a man, a mysterious figure who materializes from an entry point to the room you had no idea was there. 

The dim light casts eerie shadows on his face as he greets you with a slight bow. 

“Who are you?”

“Luis Serra, Princesita. Your only chance.” He nods, lighthearted, but you see the weight of his seriousness. “We don’t have much time. If you want to get rid of the parasite, come with me, I’ll explain on the way.”

Why do you feel like all you do is being swept with whatever current washes down your way? 

It’s bizarre to be running away — from Leon, of all people. Go with this random man number two, where? To do what? What happens to Leon, then? 

Thrown off by his sudden appearance, you try to assess the situation, searching for any signs of deception or ulterior motives. 

Despite your apprehension, something about his urgent demeanor and the glimmer of hope in his eyes instill a soft landing for trust in him, you feel that he can help you somehow — but there is the obvious elephant in the room. “What about Leon?”

“I’m doing this because he asked,” Luis replies, his words carrying a sense of loyalty and commitment. They have some sort of history you don’t know. 

Without further delay, he administers a serum, providing you with a temporary respite from the torment inflicted by the parasite Leon’s infected you with. It offers relief, albeit temporary, buying you precious time before the inevitable returns in Luis’ words.

You decide to go with him and see where this path leads, you have nothing better to do, can’t see any way out of this. 

He motions for you to follow him, leading you through a concealed passage that winds its way beneath the labyrinthine corridors of the cult's stronghold — a castle, as you’re shocked to take in. The path is bleak, the air heavy with a musty scent, but you push forward, driven by pure survival instinct to get away to safety.

Luis starts explaining not too much into your journey, hushed, he has all the answers you needed in the first place, quick to the point. "Las Plagas are ancient organisms with a malevolent sentience. They infest and control their hosts, erode their will and sanity. They were made to be… weapons to be harnessed by Los Illuminados. Those who succumb to it become pawns of their leader, Saddler, carry out his agenda. Slaves to his will. They don’t have their minds intact, just flesh prisons to obey his orders."

Your first thought is of Leon, the horrible sinking feeling unspun in your stomach. 

Luis knows what you’re thinking. “Leon… and his buddy Krauser are exceptions. They possess what’s called the superior species, newly engineered.” He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head at the same time, like he’s contemplating a good business deal. “That means free will. To a degree. Their parasites are connected to Saddler, so their bodies can be controlled, but not their minds. Not entirely. They’re not like the inferior ganados. That’s why he was able to seek you out with his own volition.” 

The realization that Leon is trapped within this nightmare strikes you like a blow, your heart sinking with each passing moment. "He isn't controlled?" you inquire, hope blossoming in your chest. "Can you save him too?"

Luis's response is filled with regret, his eyes reflecting a sorrowful truth. "I'm afraid he's beyond saving," he confesses. "The procedure I have can only remove newly hatched eggs, and Leon... well, he's already been consumed by this darkness."

The words reverberate through your mind, the horror of the situation fraying your soul. "But... I can't just abandon him!" you protest, determination and anguish trying to overpower one another.

"You'll be gone forever too if you don't," Luis warns. "It's now or never. If you hesitate, if he catches even a hint of your trail, it will be over."

“You said you were helping me because he told you to.”

“Before he was lost, yes, he made a final wish.” Luis softens, and you realize he’s grieving, too. “He told me to take you as far away as possible from him if he ever were to try and get you involved in this mess. Because he would never do that to you in his right mind, so he said. A total romantic underneath all that ice, eh?”

He would never do that to you in his right mind… 

You flash back to three days ago, to his words, to how he said he loved you, all his adoring, the broken dam of affection and how he didn’t hold back anymore. 

He wouldn’t have decided to go through with opening up to you like that had it not been for the parasite’s influence? 

Uncertainty dangles heavy as you fight with the bitter reality you thought was a dream come true, the heart-wrenching realization that the man you love has been ensnared by the very darkness he sought to protect you from — that only giving into it broke his control of keeping away from you emotionally.

Regret etches itself onto Luis's face as he observes your inner turmoil. "I'm truly sorry, Princesita," he offers with empathy. 

The moment hangs suspended, an agonizing choice looming before you, as you weigh the love you hold for Leon against the desperate need to escape the clutches of this cult. 

You don’t want to leave Leon, even when there’s something clearly wrong with him that can’t be fixed, but on the other hand… 

“Can you honestly tell me he isn’t the man I know?”

“He is less and more.” His tentativeness bleeds into the clearest possible simplification he’s able to give you.. “But isn’t the same.” 

“So what do we do? What should I do?”

You still cannot wrap your head around your whole world flipping upside down, can’t comprehend you have to leave Leon behind, you barely processed him being an agent. You’re stalling. Hesitating. And deep down in your heart, you know why. It’s because you don’t want to go. 

Leon is still Leon. 

But you’re terrified. 

 "The choice is ultimately yours to make. But I implore you to consider your own well-being and the chance to break free. I know that’s what he truly wanted."

“I—”

But as you open your mouth to respond, a sudden, excruciating pain shoots through your head, causing you to cry out in agony. It feels as if someone has driven a searing spike into your skull, rendering you momentarily incapacitated. Your body crumples, and you find yourself on your knees, clutching your head, desperately trying to block out the piercing ringing in your ears.

Amidst the torment, your consciousness is abruptly whisked away, transported to an ethereal realm. It is a dream-like state, observing the world through the lens of another's mind. The golden chandeliers cast a cascade of shimmering light upon turning corners and ornate doors, as the person you are connected to races frantically through the maze-like passages.

The frenzied movement abruptly halts, and your vision pulsates in tandem with the rapid beat of a heart. It’s Leon’s voice echoing through the recesses of your mind, a hidden depth of anger and desperation at the heart of his control. "I feel you," he utters, a slight tremble of heartbreak. "You're in here. I know you're listening. Where are you? Why did you leave?"

Realization dawns upon you, a profound understanding that you are inhabiting Leon's thoughts, sharing his fears and confusion. The sheer intensity of the experience overwhelms you, and you cry out, "No, make it stop!" Your consciousness briefly returns to the physical realm, tears streaming down your face, the pain of the connection too much to bear. "It hurts!"

The ethereal realm engulfs you once more, Leon's emotional turmoil swirling around you. His voice billows with remorse and longing. "It might... Things might have escalated a bit too quickly," he confesses, his tone laden with regret. "It's my fault, I got too cocky, too impatient. But I never wanted to scare you off. I only ever wanted to keep you safe. You have to trust me and open your eyes so I can do that, sweet girl, okay? I'll come get you. We’ll talk it out. You can’t run."

Confusion intertwines with the pain coursing through your being. Leon's words perplex you, as if there is a hidden meaning beneath his pleas. "My eyes?" you utter, the question hanging, unanswered.

Luis gets so loud that you’re brought back to your location for a split second. “Shit. Do not open your eyes!”

Leon hears what he says somehow — and it suddenly comes to you that if you’re in his head, he is also in your head. “Luis. I should have known.”

You feel a sharp pinch at the side of your neck that cannot even compete with the tremendous headache, and the vision begins to crumble, Leon getting fainter — his presence fading away, the last you hear of him is a furious and equally anguished, “Goddamnit, no!” before everything goes black.  

Luis detects the stirring of your consciousness before you do, and as your awareness is brought back from the dormant state you were in, he calls to you in the darkness surrounding everything. “Don’t open your eyes yet.”

You shift around, feeling the coolness of a rough surface against your back and the firmness of the stone floor beneath you. The silence is broken by a peculiar sound—an unsettling symphony of metallic echoes. Chains. Accompanied by Luis’ feet shuffling around, they slither across the ground, you can almost envision their length, extending and coiling, like serpents of iron, their echoes intertwine, creating an eerie melody because you can’t see them. 

“What are you doing?”

Luis's response is calm and purposeful. "Setting the scene," he explains. The sound of nails being hammered into stone with an underlying jingle punctuates his words, causing you to jump in surprise. "For Lancelot seeking his Guinevere."

The pieces start to come together, albeit slowly. "You want to trap him," you realize.

Luis acknowledges your understanding. "Wonderful, Princesita," he praises. "You catch on fast. Leon is connected to you somehow, and we can't progress if he sees through your eyes. So, we need to create an illusion."

Confusion and concern overflow as you question the feasibility of their plan. "But Leon is... He could be listening right now."

Luis dismisses your worries. "Do you feel that he is sharing your head at the moment?" he asks. The uncertainty in your response betrays your lack of knowledge. "Ey, you'd know," he asserts. "That means he isn't present. Perfect."

Doubts linger in your mind as you consider the risks. "Will it work? He's... well, I recently learned he's an agent. I don't think it'll be easy."

"Whose side are you on?" he teases, playful. But when he senses your unease, he quickly reassures you. "No worries, I get it. He's better with the ladies, I've learned."

You can't help but feel a pang of guilt. "Luis..."

He brushes off your concerns with understanding. "I'm almost done here. He's supposed to think you're alone, so you can't look at me when I tell you to open your eyes. I'll be hiding. Don't talk to me, don't acknowledge me, just wait."

Curiosity gets the better of you as you ask, "How are you going to..."

Luis's response is concise and determined. "It won’t be me who’s doing it. It will be you. I will be your distraction.” You hear his footsteps approaching, and something small but heavy being placed on the floor just beside you, hidden from your line of sight. “You’ll hide when he arrives, and when the time comes, I want you to shoot. Don’t worry, it’s a tranquilizer gun. Wish me luck so he won’t kill me on sight, eh?”

It doesn’t take long for him to signal you. 

You open your eyes, the darkness giving way to dimly lit surroundings. The scene before you is carefully arranged, meticulously designed to deceive. The chains that previously echoed through the room now come into view, hanging ominously from the winch on the ceiling, you follow the line with your eyes to see the other end is secured to the stone wall by a circle of nails. The clinks and clanks reverberate, amplifying the tension.

Luis is nowhere to be seen, but his presence lingers, a silent reassurance that you're not alone.

In the deafening silence, doubt gnaws at you, and you question the madness of your current circumstances. 

You’re unsure of what you truly desire, unable to look over how you really just found yourself going along with Luis's plan, not because it feels right, but because your mind is clouded, unable to think clearly. You feel like a reluctant child, accepting the path laid before you simply because it seems to be the only option available.

Uncertainty presses heavily upon you as you contemplate the impending encounter with Leon. Fear grips your thoughts, entwining with the deep-rooted emotions you still harbor for him. Despite the revelations and warnings about his true nature, your heart remains entangled in a web of love and trust, the idea of seeing him again evokes a conflicting mishmash of longing and apprehension. 

You find yourself yearning for his presence, against the knowledge that he is not the same person you once knew when the mere thought of his return conjures a happy expectation of hope within you, a desperate desire to be whisked away from the nightmarish reality that has unfolded — deep, deep down, you pine for him to be the savior, the one who can shield you from the horrors of this supernatural ordeal he inflicted upon you himself.

Yet, simultaneous fear engulfs your soul, you question your own liability, knowing that you still trust him, still harbor the potential to be swayed by his words and actions. The thought terrifies you, the notion that you might have readily agreed to his plans had he presented them differently, had he explained the sinister truth of the parasite in a more inviting manner. It's a terrifying realization, the awareness of your own susceptibility to his influence, and despite everything, he’s the only anchor you can hold on to not be swept away into that chaos. 

You want him to enter the room, to make everything right again, tell you all of this is a nightmare you made up in your head because in the real world you still miss him, and at the same time you also fear what his arrival may entail.

As if attuned to your thoughts, a prickle in your mind disrupts your musings—a subtle trickle of awareness, the sensation of being watched by an invisible presence sharing the same space as you.

So you wait, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of the impending confrontation with Leon bearing down on you. Every second feels like an eternity as you strain to listen for any sign of his approach. The air grows heavy with anticipation, and your senses are on high alert.

Suddenly, a noise echoes through the chamber, a faint, careful creak of a door opening. Your breath catches in your throat, he was so deadly silent infiltrating the building this basement is in, and you scramble to crouch and hide behind stacked boxes facing his direction, praying to god he hasn’t heard you. 

His eyes search the room in  a hardened gaze, a mask of determination, scanning every corner, every shadow with professional coldness. 

Leon cuts through the silence, as if he’s been hurt by you somehow. "Come on, I know you’re here, you don’t need to hide from me, I’m just here to talk.. Don’t be afraid of me.”

Your heart aches at the sound of his voice, you fight back tears, reminding yourself that this is necessary, for both his sake and your own — you can’t crumble right now, absolutely dreading what actually hearing him out would do to you. 

Luis emerges from where he’s hiding, unknowingly coming to your rescue, stepping forward with calculated confidence. "Looking for someone, Leon?" he asks, dripping amused intrigue.

"Where is she?" Leon demands, and you’ve never heard him like that before — that bone-chillingly cold and intimidating, menacing, low tone is downright terrifying. 

“Not even a hola for your old friend?” 

Leon fucking pulls a gun on him and your heart jumps to your throat. “Where. is. she?”

Luis raises his hands in a placating gesture, a sly smile playing on his lips. "No need for violence, my friend. I'm here to help."

Leon's grip on his weapon tightens, his suspicion evident. "I don’t need your help anymore. Tell me where she is."

Luis chuckles softly with a trace of mischief. "Ah, the stubbornness of a man in love. But I'm afraid your Princesita is in another castle."

Anger flashes in Leon's eyes, his frustration mounting. "Don’t bullshit me Luis, I know she’s here. What are you up to?"

Luis takes a step closer, sympathetic as much as he’s purposeful. "I've done what you asked of me. She's safer without you." 

Leon's face contorts with disbelief and fury, threatening to consume him. "Safer? You have no idea what you’re talking about. There is no safer place on earth right now than by my side. The world's about to go shit. The President is down, and the impending mass vaccination is nothing but a precursor to chaos. Do you think this is some deranged lover’s obsession? No."

With hopeless resoluteness, Leon continues to pour out his frustrations and fears. "Someone, be it the WHO, Terrasave, or the BSAA, someone will eventually expose the truth about the parasite spreading through medicines. And when that happens, all hell will break loose — do you understand the scale of what I’m talking about? The illusion of a smooth and controlled resolution is nothing more than a lie, and we both damn well know it."

Emotions wash over Leon, leaving him vehement and exposed, self-deprecating, raw. "I may have failed in my mission, and I may have failed everyone, but I refuse to let her become a mindless puppet like those villagers and cultists. I won't let her perish chasing scope after scope for news articles that’ll get her killed. She's all I have left." His voice quivers with a defeated tenacity and desperation, he shakes his gun at Luis. "So yes, I made a choice. It's the right one. It's the only one. A choice where I can be with her, where she can stay safe. A choice where I become the monster, but I can’t care less about the consequences anymore. So, get out of my way, Luis, and take that getaway chopper of Ada's while I'm still giving you the chance. That a good deal?"

“What happens when Saddler loses?” Luis sighs through his nose, totally unaffected by all that talk. “What happens if you die on that hill?”

His question lingers for a moment before Leon responds, less baleful and more mournful, even accompanied with a strange sense of happiness. "I know the end. As long as I get to die in her arms, it doesn't matter."

In that instant, something within you snaps. The anguished anger and the raw empathy you feel for Leon flow through your veins, overpowering any rational thought. Without hesitation, you make a decision that feels both natural and inevitable — to shoot the tranquilizer. 

You pull the trigger, the dart finding its mark with an unsettling precision, and time slows as you watch it puncture his skin, him flinching with a hand clamping around the dart and yanking it out, his wide, red eyes finding yours as you stand up, the realization dawning in his eyes. 

You want to cry when it’s relief and happiness that comes first to him upon seeing you as if on instinct, and confusion and hurt wash over his features next as he sees what’s in your hands. It's a sight that cuts through your heart. He staggers, toward you, his body fighting against the encroaching numbness, as if defying the very fate that befalls him. With outstretched arms, he reaches for you, fingers trembling, yearning for connection amidst the sense of betrayal. 

Yet, despite his desperate efforts, his strength fails him. His legs give way beneath him, and he tumbles to the ground, his reach falling short. You watch, your heart splitting in two, as he crumples in a heap of confusion. His fingers graze at where your presence is, a touch that never finds its mark.

In the waning moments before unconsciousness claims him, his eyes search yours, pleading for answers that you struggle to provide. You stand rooted to the spot, grappling with guilt and anguish, questioning the validity of your actions, second-guessing the choices that have led to this heartbreaking scene.

As Leon finally succumbs to the claim of the tranquilizer, his body surrendering to the oblivion of unconsciousness, you're left with your final commitment, crystal clear. 

Your heart was set on this from the start. You were just too scared to admit it. 

You’ll stay with him in this darkness.

Leon’s all alone here, knows he’s doomed by the narrative, can’t leave — and all he thought throughout that was you and what would happen to you. 

You can’t leave this man in the solitude of tragedy, with the first ever selfishness of his was seeking you out despite himself to protect you. No moment has solidified his love for you more than this. How he thinks of you tremendously. 

You can’t not love this man. You can’t bring yourself to obey his wishes and abandon him.

The lamb doesn’t want to leave the slaughterhouse. 

With a heavy yet determined tone, you utter the words that seal your fate. "Go, Luis."

Luis protests, filled with concern and a touch of reluctance. "You can’t—"

Tears well up in your eyes as you gaze at Leon's unconscious form, lying helpless on the cold ground. The depth of your emotions overwhelms you, but you gather your resolve. "I can't abandon him now. Not after everything he's been through. He needs someone by his side."

Luis hesitates, torn between honoring your wishes and his genuine concern for your well-being, making a final attempt to persuade you. "I understand your heartache, but you're risking everything for him. Are you sure about this? There's so much at stake — you’ll become just like him, you know? You’ll never be able to leave Los Illuminados and go back to your old life."

“You don’t get it do you? It’s true that I'm scared, Luis. Scared of what lies ahead, the stuff you’ve talked about is straight out of a dystopian novel. But I'm more scared of losing him in all of this.” It haunts you how he said it doesn’t matter if he gets to die in your arms, no regard for his own well-being and health. Leon has never cared for himself enough, that much you know, but to think his entire system has collapsed like this, to the point where he’s let himself go entirely and came to you while wounded… It’s something you can’t turn a blind eye to. A cry for help you can’t ignore. “He looked for me in this chaos. Underneath all of the excuses of protection, Leon’s just scared. He doesn’t want to be alone.” You can’t look away now that you’ve seen everything. “I can’t go back anyway after knowing this. I’d never forgive myself. It's better to face whatever’s coming with him, no matter what horrors it holds.”

“There’s absolutely nothing I can do to change your mind?”

The fact that he’s set on doing this and looking out for you until the last second because he has promised Leon and is truly concerned warms your heart up. “You really should catch that ride before it’s too late.” 

“You’re making a mistake.” His concern mingles with a touch of admiration for your unwavering will. “But he’s hell of a lucky bastard to have you by his side throughout it all. This is the sacrifice of your life, I’m not joking. And I hope it’ll be worth it.”

He’s not like you, and that’s okay. You actually admire and envy his sense of self-preservation overweighs his loyalty and promise to Leon, that’s how a normal person should be. But the situation is far from normal, and you’re infected by a mind-altering parasite for fuck’s sake, and you’re not even sure you’re going through the quarter of what Leon has. 

“Thank you Luis.” Touched by his understanding, you reach out and take Luis's hand, gratitude shining through. “For everything.”

A somber atmosphere settles in the room as Luis grows more melancholic. He takes a deep breath before making his final request. "Before I go, there's one last thing I want to ask. Considering we don't know how he’ll react when he wakes up, I think it's best to be cautious. We should chain him up, just to be safe. I don't want him accidentally hurting you in his confused state."

You hesitate, unsure about the idea of restraining Leon, but Luis's earnestness compels you to consider it. "I don't think he would ever harm me..."

Luis interrupts gently. "Oye, let me worry about that, Las Plagas is unpredictable and dangerous. Do me this favor, it’s the least you can do to pay me back, yeah? A little caution won't hurt. And if Leon questions it, you can blame me. I can handle it from a safe distance out of his reach in the comfort of my luxury ride."

With Luis's words echoing in your mind, both of you set to work, struggling like you’re trying to roll a boulder up a hill with the weight of Leon's unconscious body. The effort is tremendous, sweat pouring down your faces as you maneuver his unexpectedly heavy frame. 

Exhausted from the strenuous task, Luis hands you the key, his face flushed with exertion as you finally finish securing Leon in chains. The room is filled with a heavy silence, punctuated only by the sound of your own labored breaths.

As the unvoiced question of what happens now makes itself known between you two, caught in the tension between Luis’ desire to stay and the necessity of his departure. His words come out disconnected, hesitant, obviously having an awkwardness that comes from bidding farewell under such circumstances. "Well..." he begins, trailing off as he struggles to find the right words. "It was a pleasure to know you, Princesita." His smile is half-hearted, betraying the mixed emotions within him. "I hope we never have to meet again."

The unexpected humor in his remark catches you off guard, and a genuine laugh escapes your lips, the sound reverberating through the room, mingling with the faint clinking of the chains as Leon stirs behind you, his presence a constant reminder of what you’ve decided to get yourself into.

Luis's insistence breaks through the brief moment of levity as he implores you, his eyes flicking between you and Leon's kneeling form. "Take care of him," he urges, a sense of responsibility coloring his words. "And yourself."

You offer him a reassuring smile, endlessly thankful for his guidance in getting you to realize Leon’s perspective. "Will do. You too, Luis," you respond, nothing but warmth in your heart for him as you acknowledge his efforts. "Don't feel bad about not being able to help us, please? You've done all you can."

He nods once, his features a blend of bittersweet defeat and acceptance. With a final glance, he retreats into the shadows, his presence fading away. The room feels emptier without him, and sadness washes over you, a stab of guilt for potentially failing him now that you are left alone with your thoughts and the finality of the decision you have made.

The room remains shrouded in an eerie silence, broken only by the faint sound of Leon's steady breaths and the gentle rattling of the chains that bind him. 

Your gaze inevitably falls upon him, bound and unconscious before you. 

The sight of him, held captive by the chains, elicits strange emotions that defy explanation. There is an undeniable allure that emanates from his restrained form, drawing you in despite the chaos that surrounds you. It is a conflicting blend of fascination and revulsion, a cocktail of sensations that confound your senses. You should be consumed by panic, overwhelmed by the dire circumstances and the looming threat of the parasite within you. Yet, in this moment, a strange calm settles within your being. Is it the influence of the parasite that dulls your anxieties, or is it a resolute acceptance of the path you have chosen?

Despite the restraints that hold him captive, there is an undeniable attractiveness that surrounds him, gluing your eyes to the sight before you.

Kneeling on the floor, Leon’s muscular physique is accentuated by the susceptible position he finds himself in, the chains tightly holding his wrists above his head, rendering him defenseless and at your mercy. His sculpted arms, stretched taut and slightly strained, display the evidence of his strength even in his helpless state, veins beneath his skin appear more pronounced, as if awakened by the touch of captivity and the strain of gravity. His tousled locks of blond hair cling to his forehead and darken in shade where they meet with sweat, adding to his prettiness. Even in his unconsciousness, there is a magnetism that emanates from his chiseled features — strong jawline, cheekbones, and glistening lips that have known both determination and tenderness. The pinch of his eyebrows low over his eyes adds a touch of rugged toughness, contrasting with the vulnerability imposed upon him by the chains. His chest rises and falls rhythmically, betraying the calmness of his unconscious state. Light and shadow dance across his defined torso, revealing the slopes and curves that bear witness to his physical prowess. 

It is an unintended pull that arises from the juxtaposition of strength and exposure, dominance and surrender. The image of Leon bound and kneeling, his arms raised and secured by the unyielding chains, creates a powerful visual dichotomy — a captivating blend of control and submitting, strength and fragility.

You didn’t know you were into BDSM. Is this what it is? Why the hell does he look so mouth watering in chains to you when there are more dire matters to feel about — you are being a giant pervert about an unconscious man. Sympathy, desire, and protectiveness intertwine, blurring the lines between what is right and what is alluring. In this moment, you are both drawn to his physical presence and compelled to ensure his well-being, torn between the magic of his bound form and the urge to set him free to not let your thoughts run further.

You have no idea how much time passes before Leon's eyes flutter open, blinking away the haze of unconsciousness, and you stand up from where you were sitting, hands clasped before you in an anxious gesture, fearing his reaction. Panic briefly flashes across his face when the drowsiness clears enough for him to notice he’s bound by heavy chains, his arms held aloft and his movements restricted — the harsh tug on the chains makes you jump and that’s how he spots you standing nearby, concern etched on your features.

"You’re okay," Leon breaks the silence, his words a murmured astonishment. It's not a question, nor is it a statement of certainty. It's an observation imbued with gratitude. He's taken aback, as if his mind is struggling to comprehend that you are here with him at all. That’s the first thing he worries about? That’s what he cares about? “You stayed.”

The corner of your lips tugs upward in a soft, bittersweet smile. "Yeah, I did," you reply. The way he looks at you, as if you hold a small piece of his shattered world together, tugs at your heartstrings.

Leon’s more wary and threat-seeking when he brings up the stranger. “Luis?”  

You start playing with your fingers. "He left.” A pause. “It was my decision.” 

He sits up straighter, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Is… that so?”

It’s so bizarre having a serious conversation with him in chains now that you’re living it. “I’m… I’m sorry for the chains, I, Luis, uh—”

“No, I get it.” He says it like it’s a given and he doesn’t mind it — and that’s when you’re reminded again that he’s a specially trained agent, that’s where the attitude weirdly used to these kinds of things has to come from. “I haven’t given you a reason to trust me.” He gazes at you, his eyes betraying remorsefully hidden emotions, voice dropping down to a low whisper. “Yet you stayed anyway even when I’m like this. I never thought... I never expected anyone would ever, for me… You know.”

Your heart is a soaked towel and he has just wrenched it dry. The way he sees himself physically hurts. "I couldn't leave you, Leon.” You sniffle, head shaking as you confess, revealing your devotion. “I could never leave you."

He reaches out, his restrained hands straining against the chains, as if longing to touch you, to reassure you of his own unwavering devotion. But all he can offer is his words. "That’s all I’ve been terrified of," he admits. It stays unknown to you if the subject of the sentence is you leaving him or you not leaving him. "Ever since I caught myself falling for you, that’s what all this has been about and — this shit inside me amplifies the worst in me, and you’re still here. Damnit.” 

Tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision, but you refuse to let them fall. "Leon, you are not alone in this." You want to kiss away all worries and fears he keeps to himself, now in front of you in all of their intricate, overthought glory. "I made this choice because I believe in you. I believe in us."

His gaze intensifies, searching you for any trace of doubt or unease. But all he finds is unwavering faith, and a love that refuses to be shaken. "I don't deserve you," he murmurs,  barely above a whisper. All of a sudden, the tiredness you know all so well pushes down on him. "Not after everything."

A soft smile graces your lips, a gentle warmth spreading through your entire being. Luis is wrong. He is definitely wrong — this is Leon, and he’ll always be Leon. "And I don’t deserve your love." He immediately looks like he’s going to disagree on the spot, but you don’t give him the chance. "But here we are anyway. I'm here, no matter what. I’ve made my choice. If you’ll have me too—"

The tension in his shoulders eases slightly. "I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe," he vows, engraved with purpose. Just the way he says it could be added to a resume, the self-confidence and intentness of a professional in his field behind the power. "I'll prove to you that I can be the person you deserve."

"Leon, I already know the person you are. And I'm not going anywhere."

Leon's widened gaze inflames, breathing becoming more labored as he hangs his head down and nods a couple times while hiding his face from you. “Okay.”

You didn’t expect that to make you burst out laughing, and his head shoots up when he hears your laughter echoing in the chamber. “Sorry,” you cover your mouth, turning around to not let him see and think you’re mocking him. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you.” You manage to turn it down to snickering, screaming at yourself to stop already. “It’s just… that was so unironically you and… God, help. I don’t know why this is so funny to me—”

“Okay...”

“Stop! Stop saying okay.” You laugh again at his intonation, pushing the back of your hand against your nose. “That’s all you can say?”

Some sort of fascination surfaces beneath his stoic mask, like he’s someone who’s hearing the birds chirp for the first time. “Actually, I have a lot to say, but…” You watch him rise, his height allowing him to hold his chained wrists on his waist level. He reaches out with his shackled hands, beckoning you to come to his side, yearning for a connection, “You’re too far away for it.”

You jokingly tease. “Will you be a good boy?”

It has an immediate effect on him, sweet adoration stains into something suggestive, lingering between you like a charged current, and you can feel the shift in his demeanor, the warning tilt of his head, the faint red shine swallowing the blue of his eyes, the chains rattling as he grabs onto them in a tight, restrained grip, body tensing, a coiled energy barely contained. 

As his voice emerges in a single, sharp syllable, a low and husky whisper, “Don’t,” it sends a shiver all over your body. The words are measured, deliberate, and carry an undertow of caution that both entices and warns. It's a dark invitation. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

It’s not just you. 

You’re both fucked up. 

And you take a step closer, closing the distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest, and he watches you like a hawk. “I’m just asking a question.”

His eyes glow with an intense crimson hue in response, piercing through the dim light, making you halt when there’s only about five feet left between you and him. Black veins spread across his skin like intricate patterns of ancient curses, marking him up. And extending from his lower back, a large scorpion-like tail emerges, its barbed stinger poised in the air, and just as how the spine is a series of individual vertebrae, small bones stacked one upon the other, his tail too is articulated, allowing it to curl like a snake, curving and undulating with an eerie grace, almost as if it has a life of its own.

It dances through the air, floating towards you, its presence both beguiling and unsettling. You watch, apprehensive and curious, as Leon manipulates his tail, rotating it to show you every angle. As he nudges you gently with it, an unexpected tenderness shines through his alien appearance. "It won't hurt you," he emphasizes, a soothing reassurance. He looks like a creature plucked from the pages of a fantastical novel, but his care for you remains undeniable. "Try touching it."

You observe the chitinous exoskeleton, marveling at its texture and the otherworldly allure it possesses. "Will you feel it?" you ask, a snap of fidget in your curiosity.

Leon's eyes meet yours, a flicker of a mischievous smile playing at the corner of his lips. "That's a dangerous thing to want, don't you think?" His words carry a double meaning, an underlying invitation to explore the depths of desire that lies beneath the surface. In that moment, you realize you've unknowingly become a participant in his intricate game, a delicate dance of discovering boundaries.

"Leon, half-insect or not, I would want every part of you," you confess, unapologetically honest and smoking with desire. A swelling of boldness overtakes you, fueled by a mix of desire and affection. You take a step closer, your hand reaching out to grasp his tail. The texture surprises you—smooth and warm, defying the expectations of a creature born from nightmares. Leon's tail jerks slightly in response to your touch, the connection between you both sending a jolt of static through where you’re touching, and he is momentarily stunned, his ardor momentarily subdued by your unabashed declaration. “I want you, always.”

"Alright, alright. You made your point," he interrupts, a flicker of bashfulness visible beneath his attempt to maintain a composed facade. The teasing spark in his eyes is replaced by a rare sentiment, his emotions laid bare before you. "Well. " Some sort of self-consciousness fogs his expression as he looks down. "Though I do feel the same,"  he concedes, pink creeping across his cheeks.

But you're not finished. You close the remaining distance between you, your eyes locked with his. "Leon, I love you." You pour your heart into those three words, stronger, unmoving, louder, hoping he understands the depth of your affection if he hasn’t gotten it yet.

He looks away for a brief moment, his gaze fixated on something indiscernible, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. "Yeah," he mumbles softly, almost lost in the space between you.

Undeterred, you reach out to gently grasp his face, turning his gaze back to meet yours. "I love you," you repeat, scolding him that he’s not taking you seriously. You want him to hear it, to understand the magnitude of your feelings.

A flicker of surprise crosses his features, quickly replaced by something akin to relief, leaning into your touch as if you’re the coolness he needs on a hot summer day. He likes hearing it from you, that much is clear, but the unfamiliarity of the sentiment leaves him momentarily at a loss for words. "Okay," he finally responds, his voice a soft affirmation.

You're about to reprimand him, demanding that he say the words you long to hear in return before you unchain him. But before you can voice your frustration, a sudden wave of dizziness crashes over you, throwing your world into disarray. Your vision blurs, the room spinning and tilting on its axis. You desperately blink, hoping to clear your sight, but the disorientation only worsens. The force of gravity seems to intensify, tugging at your stomach and weakening your legs, causing you to stumble forward. The pain strikes you with a merciless blow, knocking you off balance and into Leon's waiting arms. Your hands, once cradling his face, now find purchase on his shoulders for support.

"Hey!" The weight of your limp body causes Leon to follow you down, sinking to his knees just as you do. However, the chains that bind his arms above his head prevent him from fully supporting your torso. In a swift motion, he maneuvers his tail to secure your body against his, stopping you from falling backward. Your head lolls on his shoulder, basically shaking against him.

"Hang in there, come on," he pleads, trying to reach you. "Talk to me, what's happening?"

Struggling to keep the pain under a manageable level, you reply briefly, not wanting to talk. "I don't know... Felt… dizzy..."

"Shit, okay," he curses softly, his concern deepening. "Does it hurt?"

You just make a curt sound, wanting him to let it go and keep yourself from flopping like a fish out of water on the ground from how it’s ripping you apart. 

“I gotta know if it does. Can you tell me?”

You’re suffering, how does he not see? Does he need verbal affirmation that badly?

“Yeah,” you say behind gritted teeth. “Sure does.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to sting you, alright? Only a drop of venom into your bloodstream,” he explains as merciful and comforting as he’s able in your state.  “You’ll feel a pinch but it’ll relax you. It might put you in an… aroused state because of your parasite, but you’ll no longer feel pain — it’ll feel good. I’ll take care of you.”

The mention of the potential side effects of whatever he wants to do to you makes your brow furrow in confusion, but there's no time to dwell on it. The pain has become unbearable, hacking at your every thought. "I'll feel good?" you question, dying for any kind of escape from the burning.

"Yeah," Leon affirms, a tenderness that reaches deep into your soul. "You'll feel good."

A stream of questions floods your mind, but Leon interrupts before you can voice them. "Not now," he interjects, pressing the syllables with more stress and emphasis. "Will you let me take care of you?"

His distress resonates with your own need for relief. "Yes," you respond without hesitation. "Yes, okay. This pain is killing me, just do it."

With a swift movement, his scorpion-like tail hovers near your exposed nape, its barbed stinger poised and ready.

"I promise, it'll be over soon," Leon whispers, dead set on his goal. "Just hold on."

The venomous tip of his tail makes contact with your skin and a sharp pinch sends a jolt of sensation through your body, but the initial pain subsides almost instantly, replaced by a soothing coolness that spreads from the injection site. It's an odd sensation, the venom working its way through your bloodstream, numbing the pain and replacing it with a peculiar mix of relaxation and heightened sensitivity.

A soft exhale is pulled from your lips as the effects continue taking hold, the relief washing over you like a gentle wave, and you melt against Leon, wrapping yourself around him, having automatically sought him out on pure instinct. He carefully adjusts his sitting and goes down on the balls of his feet to allow you to crawl on him, ensuring you're comfortable, his tail retracting to support your back for a more comfortable embrace.

"You're doing great," he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody amidst the chaos. "Just let it take effect, I’m here."

The heaviness in your limbs dissipates, replaced by a newfound lightness, as if a mass has been lifted from your body. The world around you becomes hazy, the edges blurred as the arousal Leon had warned about intertwines with the relief spreading through your veins, 

It begins with a tingling warmth that spreads across your limbs, akin to tiny sparks dancing on your flesh, and then, the heat gradually intensifies, caressing your senses with a gentle yet invigorating burn that awakens every nerve ending. But amidst the rising warmth, the usual wave of the venom’s coolness follows, like a frosty breath gently kissing your skin. The burn and the coolness entwine, creating an annoying race of who gets to be on top. The heat stimulates your awareness, drawing attention to how good it feels to have Leon’s strong body against you, how you would like more, how you want to explore this new form of his as he’s ribboned up like a present before you; but simultaneously, the coolness acts as a tranquil connection to reality, tempering the fiery sensations with its gentle touch.

Leon’s unique smell underneath your nose pours into your circulation from your heaving lungs, you snuggle in to get more of his scent, in the crook of his neck, right behind his ear… You can’t help but rub your head against it like it could somehow pass to your own body — it’s all instinct, the space of your head pleasantly misty, the feeling of only wanting to get closer wiggling enthusiastically inside. You notice your hands are on the move later, running up his sides and his back, only when you feel the ripple of bumps on his spine following your fingers gliding up and down as if responding to your touch. 

“Leon…” He sucks in a sibilant sound when your nails run down his back, momentarily shivering against you. “Leon…”

“Yes, I’m here.” It’s his tail that cuddles you against him because his hands are unavailable. “What do you need, sweet girl, hm?”

How do you say you want to fuck his brains out and do as you wish with him as he’s chained when he can’t retaliate, and how turned on you’re getting by the minute? “I need you.”

You hear the chains rattle and glance up briefly to see his hands balled up in the restraints. “How do you need me?”

His tendency to take things slow and enjoy the augmentation of need as it builds up is a formidable adversary to the you of the present, the frustration is testing the limits of your endurance. There’s something carnal in the way you want him right now, eating away at your patience for playing games with him. 

You rise on your knees still framing the outside of his thighs, and taking advantage of the small difference of height it gives you, yank his hair back to make Leon look up at you, his eyebrows arch upward in an arc, the ascent giving away the shock, and his mouth falls agape, lips parting to release a whispered exclamation “I don’t need this dirty talk, I want your dick in my throat.” You stare him down, catching your reflection in his red eyes and see that the same blight webbing him up is also infesting you, shining in your eyes in the same shade of crimson as his. You simply don’t care. “Is that a satisfying answer?”  

His chin lowers, leering lascivious, and you swear the veins on his face become a more prominent shade of black. “Jesus Christ.” He yanks on the chains, the harsh sound higher in pitch with the power behind it. “Gimme the key.”

“Nooooot gonna.” He leans towards you when you scooch away from his lap, but is unable to chase you fully. You fixate on his crotch, mouth watering, throat anticipating taking in his shape, phantom soreness reminding you what’s coming. You reach out to his thighs and place your palms on his knees, running them up awfully slow, feeling the rigidifying limbs under your touch. 

“Huh? Hey, what do you mean—” He’s stuck between trying to get up and staying that way for you. “What, you’re not untying me?”

“Shut up, I’m in heat right now.” You pop the button of his jeans and bring down the zipper, palming his half-hard bulge above his underwear. “Stop complaining.”

His hips jolt up into your hand, eyes fleetingly rolling behind his head from the satisfying contact, and his cock continues to swell up in your hand, straining against the confines of his briefs. “I’m not complaining — ”

You yank his underwear down, his head popping free and dangling, you bring the underwear underneath his hips along with his jeans with a little help from him rising up and allowing them to slide down better. “You brought this on me, so I’ll feel good the way I want to. Stop. Talking.” 

Chuckling in an underestimating mirth, he’s in the middle of saying, “Yes, ma’am—” mockingly when you lift the edge of his top up to shove the crumpled fabric into his mouth, exposing the carved dips and curves of his chest and stomach. He’s rendered shellshocked for only a second before he lukewarmly glares at you, that’s how you know he doesn’t hate it and only acts like he does. That interested swishing of his tail would be enough to break the chains, but he doesn’t attempt it at all. A silent communication passes between you two, that this is an extension of the role-reversal sex you had the day he left for Spain, and he makes it clear he’s down for whatever you want to do with him. 

Without breaking eye contact, you kiss down his chest and the pads of your fingertips glide along his heated, soft and firm skin, and slow down when you reach the plane of his pronounced abs that tense with each lick and open-mouthed nibble from you, the tautness increasing when the way down from his navel and the path you follow along the veins end up becoming torturously unhurried. 

He has to breathe from his nose, and you pick up where he is on the scale of impatience from his control breaking for it to seep into how sharp or deep they become 

You decide to go on your stomach for now,  letting him remain perched, the coldness filtering into your clothes from the ground not really all that important compared to drinking in all of Leon’s crumpled microexpressions. 

A satisfied noise rises from him as you take him into your hand and give a couple pumps and purposefully stick your tongue out to let your spit dribble considerably on it for better slip and slide, he’s starting to get red in the face. 

And when he thinks it’s about to start with the usual opening of getting him in the mood by the standard jerk-off and the buildup from there, you catch him off-guard by taking him all the way into your throat in one go, concentrating to keep your gagging and choking at a manageable bodily response that won’t make you recoil and start coughing — and surprisingly, it doesn’t hurt, whatever’s in that stinger of his is making everything feel different, you are actually scratching an itch at the back of your throat with Leon and it feels so fucking good to give him head and hearing him respond so eagerly to it. 

The sound he makes despite holding his shirt up with his mouth is choked and powerful as his hips jerk forward and pushes into your mouth, his guttural whine stutters from Leon as you swallow around him. He can’t talk and respond or tell you how you’re doing, but all the pretty noises, from gruff groans, to desperate humming, and restrained moaning tell you all about how he’s feeling. 

You run your nails along the skin underneath his naval and the muscles there jump, the bobbing of your head picking up unexpectedly as you’re literally working to rip his climax off, and he doesn’t feel it sneak up on him, breathing getting more rapid and panicked at how fast you’re wrenching it out of his dick and unconscious shallow thrusts meeting your movements right in the middle — you know exactly when he’s about to come from the slight swell of his dick in down your fluttering esophagus and the tightening of his stomach. 

That’s when you stop and take him out with an audible pop, your lips puffed and red, eyes teary. It twitches before slapping against him and his shirt falls from his teeth in an agonized and disappointed groan as his hips stutter forward in an attempt to search for friction, the fucking saliva trail connecting his lips to the fabric makes your heartbeat swoop downwards. “Why? I was right there!—”

You bat your eyelashes at him, blowing cold air on his denied arousal. “I know, baby.”

“You…” His lips draw back in the middle of a low sound at you gripping his base and giving the head kitten licks, alternating between swirling your tongue around and focusing on sucking the tip only. “Ah, what the fuck.” Your tongue delves into the slit of his head and precum gushes forward, his teeth are exposed in a breathy sharp hiss and a jolt.  “Yeah, that’s it… Shit.” 

The view of his fat chest and his strained, sweat-glistening strong neck swallowing is divine, you pick up the momentum again just to see him get worked up enough to throw his head back for the sight of his striking Adam’s apple, the black veins are doing something else to you that has your insides flipping.

You catch the glimpse of his tail swishing in the air, curling at tandem with your movements. You try taking all of him again to see how it’ll move and the sudden stop and trill has you wanting some friction between your legs. “Fuu—ck, your mouth is a vision, full of me.”

You lick along the bigger vein trailing up under his cock. “Does it feel that good?”

He only nods and thrums a small shudder, but you don’t let him off the leash just yet. “How easy.” Leon’s eyes snap open at the audacity. “Being chained and played with like this…” You give him a particularly harsh pump and the chains jangle because of his sudden tug. “Letting it happen because you want it so much. Desperate to be fucked.”

The degradation alone gets him to pulsate in your hand a couple times, his brow wrinkles as if he’s suffering. “You like this.” You drag a sluggardly strong grip up his weeping cock and his tail whips the ground. “Say it.”

His muscles tense and release, creating a rhythmic movement beneath the surface of his groin upon your teeth getting into the mix. “Shit — I love it.” His arms flex, causing his shackles to rattle. “Everything you do — everything you do to me feels amazing. Keep going, nearly there, I’m about to—”

You hum around him, and he clearly feels the vibrations, rising his hips in an unbelievably hot fluid movement and cursing under his breath, ruby-stained eyes glassy and feverish and mouth thinned and bit from inside. His thighs caging you begin to shake, and you’re made aware he’s close again. 

And this time, it’s him who knows you’ll pull back when he needs it the most. “Oh no, you don’t.” 

Something coils around your torso and pins you in place so his dick can’t slip out of your mouth, you struggle for air and attempt to pull back, but Leon barges in on your alarm, hoarse and gravelly. “Easy, it’s just me, don’t worry.”

Your hands grasp to the fabric of the jeans on the inside of his thighs, finally able to comprehend he used his tail to bind you — surprisingly gentle yet immovable, it doesn’t suffocate you, nor hurt you in any way. 

Mouth still around him, you look up to see he’s watching you, possessing a smoldering zeal, hunger a glint on a knife’s edge, shadow of a sly smile dances upon his lips, a knowing smirk, a sense of assuredness amplifying how he has you, one that reveals all that he’s thinking and claims control from your hands. With every heavy breath he takes, his chest rises and falls, revealing the heightened state of his arousal, and it seems his irises glow a shade darker crimson, a pulsating energy radiating from him, a palpable magnetism that ignites a fire within your own being.

“I’m going to move us around, stay still.” 

He makes sure to remove his erection from your mouth without hurting you before it’s with a natural predator’s grace he rises and stands up, his tail maneuvering you around to sit on your knees right in front of him, and you can only gape as he wraps the excess of chains around his wrists so they don’t get in the way, his forearms and biceps pop like they belong to a god like this. 

“Pretty mouth, waiting just for me.” At this height, he’s able to reach down and run a thumb along your bottom lip and push in, rubbing through the length of your tongue, fascinated.  

The giant appendage, then, unwinds around you, but much to your astonishment, doesn’t slither away, the thinnest end sneaking its way between your thighs instead and your legs clamp around it, but the drag forward defying your refusal has you squeaking. God, the jointed nature of it, like some weirdly shaped anal beads, is acting as periodic zaps moving against your heated sex. It even has the strength to fucking lift you up. Your panties are going to be ruined at this rate. “Leon, what—”

“Wanna make you feel good too.” You’re boosted up when it gives you a particularly harsh press, stars shooting everywhere in your vision with the delicious press not just focusing on one area, but rolling through your clit and dipping to make your entrance contract. “I’ll move it, you focus on taking me.”

Fuck, this is basically the thigh riding from before but on another level, that’s so hot —  

His manacled hands wrap around the angry red of his cock, the size of his hands so titillating fisting the length. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth, is that okay?”

You reflexively swallow, mouth watering instantly. “Please. Please.”

“Such a good girl, begging for my cock down your throat. I can’t refuse when you plead like that.” He rewards you by a rich thrust of his tail forward, your eyes closing in delight, you’re sure that a wet spot is forming with all that moving around. “Open up.” 

You obey and loosen your jaw as much as you can to let him set the pace, hands grabbing on the moving appendage between your legs in preparation to be used like some glory hole, but unlike your aggressive start from before, Leon is much more deliberate and unhurried in bottoming out, your head is swimming in a sea of dizzyingly gratifying smog, white and blanked out as he pleasures you through it. 

You get so lost in it that he sharply hisses and caresses your forehead with shaking hands and has to warn, “No teeth, sweet girl. Relax… Yeah, just like that. You’re doing so well, so perfect, making me feel so good.” 

You don’t mean to mewl around him the way you do, but his praises are so sweet as if he’s always getting his dick sucked for the first time, makes you feel appreciated, makes you feel special. 

Tears are streaming down your face, saliva drooling down your chin, you’re sure you’re gonna have a sore throat after this, and that sight would be ugly and messy to you, something you wouldn’t want to show anyone, needlessly embarassing, but it spurs Leon on, he craves prettying you up as he says, loves that you become a mess just for him — and you had missed all of that being a sign of neediness before all this. He loves the feeling of being special just as you do, loves that he’s able to get you filthy like this. 

“Shit — can’t believe I get to have this forever, now… Never thought… Never—” He breathily laughs, the sound turning into a wanton growl as your throat constricts through his drawn-out, unrushed thrusts. He’s babbling like a man in a confessional, speed beginning to pick up, the movement of his tail also reflecting the frenetic climb, sending your snowballing itch spiraling into completion. “Don’t care what happens anymore — don’t care, don’t care, only need this—sah, fuck!”  

His hands hastily rest on top of your hand to keep you in place and you whine and squeal, his stretch digging impossibly further down, a long groan echoing in the chamber at the same time of something metallic shattering and falling off with incredible strength, Leon’s hips twitching in place with your nose buried deep in the fuzz of hair at the base of his cock. Waves of warm spurts drizzle down your esophagus, and you don’t taste anything, but have a go at swallowing on instinct, and it coerces a strained, debauched moan out of him. 

His tail moves to pull you away from him and you sit back on your heels, shaking more so from your impending orgasm being pulled right under your feet like a rug because of the abrupt halt of the rhythm, unable to stop the coughing, wrapping a hand around your throat for dampening the soreness, and before you know it, his lips have taken the place of your hand, smothering your neck and your face with kisses. 

“You did so good. A fucking angel of sin — for me only.” He doesn’t hesitate to entwine his tongue with yours tenderly as if it’s a honeyed treat to lap up, his gratitude and enthusiasm running high as before. The way he speaks into your mouth gets you pressing your legs together to ease the painful, sweet throbbing between your legs. “You were amazing, sucked the soul out of me, holy shit.”

A whiny, “Leon,” and a tug on his shirt is all he needs to know you need him.  

“I know sweet girl, I have you.” His tail sneaks around your waist again, loose in case of your refusal. In the corner of your eye, you see the winch fastening the chains on the ceiling is squashed on the floor, yet his hands are still bound. “You trust me to make you feel good, right?”

“Yes, always.”

“You can say no if you don’t like this.” The sensation of being moved so easily by something alien is frightening as much as it’s arousing when it’s coming from Leon, your anticipation is about to drip down your legs at his tail gently propelling you up to stand on both feet steadily and turning you around so your back is facing Leon. You are bent down from the waist, and the fear of falling makes you jump, but the appendage is fully supporting you, almost making you float, you could stand on your tiptoes with full body weight and you wouldn’t crash on your forehead. “Is this alright?”

You are about to break down in a series of tremors from how much this is turning you on. “Yeah.”

His hands run along your tailbone. “I’m going to chain your wrists behind your waist. That okay?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

“Tell me if it’s too tight.” He doesn’t need to reach for your hands, you align them to rest on your waist on top of each other. He does adjust them a bit and sets you straight after you crane your neck to take a good look at what he’s doing — you’re only able to get a single frame of him unwinding some of the restraints around his wrists to bind them around yours, affectively connecting both your shackled wrists together in a short line of chain. One of his hands grabs and tugs, securing his tail around your torso a bit better at the same time. “How is that? Any discomfort?”

“It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Can you please just fuck me already, I’m about to die.”

He lets you go to slide two fingers up your clothed pussy, your folds quite literally pulsing at the contact. “It’s burning up —- you want to brand me, huh?”

You don’t indulge in his running mouth, just wanting to enjoy the fiery pleasure his fondling fingers light in their wake. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He switches to pulling your pants down together with your panties, but not all the way down, making it hang in the middle of the most supple part of your thighs, efficaciously getting them to act as yet another restraint, this time, around your legs so you won’t be able to part them. Two digits easily slide inside and you yelp, held in place mercilessly. “Fuck,” he says, faintly, a subdued composure, the voice going straight to your pussy and making you clench over his fingers. “You eat me up so eagerly. That hungry, sweet girl?”

Your head’s tingling and buzzing from all that rush of blood in this position, everything gets more overwhelming when you bow your head. You just want him inside you. “Please…”

 You pitifully moan at the loss of your fingers, and the brief squeeze of his tail is comforting. “I’ll relieve you.” The replacement of his bulbous tip running through your lower lips is enough stimulation for your toes to curl inside your shoes. 

You’re shaking with the release of your anticipation, and he curses. “Fuck, you’re sucking me in.” The same chain that binds you both rattles when he grabs your bound wrists, your eyes widening at how his tail also simultaneously pulls you towards him to sink into his girthy length, working together with his hips. 

He’s working you. Using you. Manhandling you, drilling you into him like he’s using a fleshlight as he pleases and everything feels so euphoric, your mind descending into a foggy, floaty bliss despite the tears of instant gratification; the whole burden of responsibility, decision-making, and external pressures melt away and only he exists, and the ecstasy Leon’s spoon-feeding you.

He checks in on you, pulling on your binds, voice tight. “Feel good, sweet girl?” 

“I wa—” You hiccup, followed by a trembling whimper, wanting something for your neglected clit, you can’t reach the threshold like this, you keep rising but not enough. “I wanna come, please, let me—”

“Sshh.” His tail is circling you, like a snake twisting around its prey, and you don’t get it at first that he’s getting more of it into the grip for the fat and curling part of his stinger to be able to reach and roll over your unattended, swollen nub. 

Your mind is so sunken into the pleasure you can’t even worry about the barbed part getting near your vulnerable parts, but he’s an expert at making it knead just the way that gets you uninhibitedly screaming. “I got you, I got you.”

Your legs collapse beneath you, his tail carrying your entire weight as your climax fractures within you unexpectedly, not even taking some time to grow and spread and take time aching — it just explodes, making your body convulse in aftershock shudders, unable to contain your palpitating sobs. 

“Ah, Jesus Christ, fuck!—” The clamp of your cunt around Leon also dropkicks him into his own orgasm, shooting straight into your cervix. He rams into you a couple times before he bottoms out to the hilt, his chained hands having yours in a death-grip, staying like that until the twitching of his cock subsides and he starts going soft. 

When you come to next, the chains are completely gone, broken and shattered on the floor, even. Your clothes are straightened and he sits cross-legged on the ground, his back to a wall, and you’re on his lap, tightly hugged by him, still struggling to catch your breath. The view of his muscular arms around your waist is a delight, as always. 

“I feel disgusting,” you say. A sense of discomfort washes over you, amplified by the lingering physical sensations of sweat and fluids. Your face contorts with a mix of satisfaction and unease, the need to cleanse yourself from the stickiness that clings to your skin uncomfortable.

“I think that was amazing.”

You snort. “Not that — I mean, I want to take a bath, everything feels so sticky.”

Leon plants a kiss to the side of your head. “I’ll take you.” 

He probably means somewhere you can clean yourself, but you can’t help but ask. “Take me where?” 

He pulls you in to snuggle better, resting his forehead on your shoulder, tired but playful. “Well, there’s this castle.” 

He still hasn’t told you all that much about what’s going to happen. There is no salvation from the parasite inside you anymore, it has its home in you, but you know you’re not a captive, not when you share the same chains as him. “After our visit, can I—can we return home, then?”

“I…” The sentence dies as it starts. “I don’t think that’s possible. Not for a while.”

“Because you won’t let me?”

“Because I don’t know what Saddler will want with you.”

He knew the consequences. 

Something inside you makes you change your mind — no, he chose the lesser of two evils for you knowing what was coming. 

You can’t bring yourself to blame him, this was meant to happen — you were meant for this gift, meant for this fate, to carry this creature, share it with him. You feel less doubtful and sure of this now, feel the same red of Leon’s eyes, the black of his veins, you shoulder the agony together. 

Your common sense gives a last breath as it fades into non-existence. “We’re fucked, aren’t we?”

He chuckles, shielded and spiteful. “Yeah.”

“But you still wanted me by your side.”

“I was worried.”

“You were lonely.” He succumbs into a muzzled silence, and you try to reach out once again. “At least we’re together, right?” 

“Yeah… Together in this hell.” You don’t get to see what kind of face he’s making. His deep voice is raspy, and despite his contrition, he’s holding onto you tighter than before. Failure is a shame upon him, and he doesn’t let himself be comforted. “I’m sorry for bringing you down with me.”

“I’d burn for you, anyway. I don’t care.”

He’s brusque and uncompromising. “I wouldn’t let you burn.”

“Then I’d burn with you.” You turn in his lap to look him right in the eyes — his red meets your red. “Together in this hell, right?”

Lambs to the slaughter. 

[cookiescribble]

Flufftober Day 26: "I can't find it"

(gif source)

A/N: i had a different idea for this fic but then it got lost in the ether so uhhh have this instead. Happy almost halloween everybody! thank you for being so patient with us omg. These are gonna be a little out of order as we play catch up- mod ghost

Ship: Gale Dekarios x GN!Reader

Summary: The only reason Gale’s tower in waterdeep was even semi organized was because of you, but that didn’t stop him from misplacing even the smallest of things.

“Where is it, where is it!” Gale groaned, shuffling through his mess of a desk in the morning light shining down on him from the open curtains leading out to the balcony. It was early morning, much earlier than when you usually awoke, but the warmth of Gale slowly fading to the cooler room temperature shook you from sleep. So now, you padded out to find him scrambling like a mad man and muttering to himself. 

“What in the hells are you looking for?” You whispered with your voice rough from sleep, gently resting your hand on his shoulder now that you were close enough to touch him. It had apparently startled him, though, since he was so entranced by his search that he didn’t hear you approach. “By Mystra’s eyelashes, when did you get over here?” He exclaimed, clutching his chest like a grandmother with her pearls which made you giggle uncontrollably.

You shook your head at him, gently brushing a strand of hair away that had fallen into his eyes. “I’ll answer your question when you answer mine.”

“Oh—I was looking for one of the grimoires that I needed to take to the academy with me. I’m not…entirely sure where it may have run off to.” Gale scratched at his head while he spoke, looking past you and around the room until you cupped his cheeks which made him stop entirely. 

“Alright, take a deep breath, and then describe the book and then we can look for it together, yeah?” You suggested, to which he nodded while taking a slow and deep inhale. For a moment, he let himself savor the feeling of your touch on his face and the gentle silence of the room. Sometimes, he desperately needed a second or two to just breathe, especially when he’d gotten himself worked into a frenzy. You knew that about him, as well as the fact that he wouldn’t be the one to do it himself, so this was a simple way to sort of reset him, for lack of a better term. Gently forcing him to slow down and think. 

Gale’s dark brown eyes slowly opened again as he sighed just before speaking again. “This…may come as quite the surprise to you, but the book is leather bound.” Before you could comment on just how many leather bound books the wizard owned, a smirk cracked his face and made you realize he wasn’t quite finished talking yet. 

“Right, go on,” You playfully rolled your eyes at him, turning around in his hold to set your sights on the room before you as you felt his hands slide across your waist. His arms then settled around your waist as his chin came to rest upon your shoulder while he continued to speak.

“The front cover also has an engraving of a rose on the front, with ancient runes scrawled underneath.” You could almost picture the book in your mind as he described it, as it was one he carried with him most days. 

After a moment of careful consideration and a thorough glance at the room, you put your hand over his arm that was around your waist before speaking, “…My love, have you checked your study? You usually take it in there after a full day of teaching at Blackstaff.” You asked, turning your head just enough to look at him. 

Without another word, his face scrunched in concentration as he whisked off to the study a few feet away. A few moments later, though, he emerged once more with a wide grin on his face as he held the book over his head, clearly victorious. 

“Have I told you how much I love you?” Gale gave a wistful sigh as he approached, his arms once again looping around you. 

“Once or twice, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again,” you chuckled, your own arms encircling his neck to pull him ever closer as he kissed you. 

Gale let out a laugh of his own as he pulled away, “I love you.” The way he said it always felt like he was falling for you all over again, like you hadn’t been married for over a year. 

“I love you, too, you goofy wizard you.” You teased him lightly, leaning your forehead against his. 

“Goofy?? You make your husband sound like some sort of loon!” He sounded incredulous, but the smile on his face told you all you needed to know about how he felt when you said that. 

“Yes, but you’re my loon, which is why I’m allowed to say such things.” You grinned mischievously, though quickly distracted as he gave you another short yet sweet kiss before rushing off toward the academy with a promise of returning home later. 

[b1rds3ye]

AASAABSJS I'm so glad your requests are openn!!!! I seriously love the way you write for the characters! I think your writing is so in character an ARHBAHHA 😍😍🤩🤩🥰🥰SO may i request how the 141 boys react when the see their s/o has made them in the sims? Like they see him and his s/o in their little sims family. Idk I thought it would be cute.

Love you! Don't rush and take care of yourself 💗💗💖💖💋

I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME ALMOST TWO MONTHS ASDKFJASDKF MY BRAIN WAS NOT BRAINING WITH THIS PROMPT

Look, It’s Us!

How the 141 boys react to you making you, them and a potential family in the Sims (+ other little gaming shenanigans)

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Genre: Pure Fluff

Word Count: 1.2k (~400 words each)

A/N: Gotta confess, I’ve never actually played the Sims before ACK-

Captain John Price

It’s not often, but Price will occasionally play the Sims when he truly has nothing else to do. He’s not particularly creative with it though, just lets the game randomly generate a character and then lives their life with the quirks they have. Still, good fun!

John figured you’d play the opposite to him, testing the limits of the game and torturing your Sims with that simultaneously wonderful and terrifying mind of yours - beyond the army John doesn’t have the creativity to turn Sims into experiments that violate human rights. So imagine his pleasant surprise when he notices you playing relaxedly with a whole family that looked like you and him, taking the greatest care in making sure everything goes well

“Having fun there, love?” he smiles, looking over your shoulder. When you zoom in on the little Price you made in the Sims and then comment how it’s not nearly as handsome as the real thing, he swears you’re single-handedly warming up this jaded heart of his

He could watch you all day as you tinker on the game, but he naturally acts as your anchor. He doesn’t care if this is just a Sims version of you, you are not hijacking that spaceship and blasting off to god knows where! Ultimately he can’t stop you but the conversations that have come out of your antics are very entertaining

John nods along as you animatedly talk about the little virtual family you made. Whether it’s the family itself or your choices in customising the home, he’s listening and he’s remembering. He might not have infinite money like when you’re playing with cheats but it’s in his nature to give you his all, and he won’t stop giving until he’s made an imitation of your dream on the screen

Simon “Ghost” Riley

He hasn’t touched the game, he’s not particularly interested but he’ll definitely be around you when you play. Simon will be doing his own thing, but upon hearing the signature background music of the Sims you’ll see the slightest bop of his head

It was one day, he walked past you, his eyes flickering on the screen while you zoomed up on a character with features suspiciously like his. He watches silently as you zoom out, and there’s a character that looks like you as well and- is that a kid?

“Looks nothin’ like us,” he says simply at the family. “Not my fault you don’t have an imagination,” you stick out your tongue. “I’ll install some mods for more customisation.” He was just cracking a joke but it’s endearing how seriously you take your virtual counterparts

Simon doesn’t just observe the family, he also observes the rest of what you’ve customised. Is that your dream house? Ah, it seems you like that style of furniture. Simon will keep that in mind the next time you have to go shopping, or will find small gifts for you with the same general aesthetic

Has the uncanny ability to speak simlish - or at least replicate the sounds. It sounds straight from the game, you have no idea how he picked it up or why. If you ask he says it’s because “you’re bloody addicted to playin’ that thing”. All you know is that if one of the Sims shouts out something Simon will actually grumble out a response under his breath

Your Sims family has become a little mental vision board for Simon. To keep fighting to return home, to slowly but surely clean up the mess that is his broken mind until he can guarantee a future with you that is equally as tranquil and colourful as the little pixels on your screen

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Johnny loves his action and exhilarating games, shooters, horror, you name it. As such, he doesn’t play Sims much but if he does, he’s treating his randomly generated sims as human lab rats

Roasts your character customisation to hell and back. Johnny’s gripping onto you, shaking you back and forth, dramatically whining about how his eyes aren’t that specific shade of blue, his mohawk isn’t that big and you’ve got his nose all wrong- what are you doing?!

He’ll complain but if you actually give him controls he’ll customise his own character to look noticeably worse. Just don’t ever give him access to this game because he’ll also make your character look nothing like you

That being said, Johnny gets really into the little family you’ve made. He’s actively discussing with you the furnishings that should be used in the house, if your virtual child should be a ghost hunter or a fortune teller, and if you need a bathroom break he’s ensuring no one sets the virtual house on fire

You better not tell Johnny that you’ve added pets into the virtual family because Johnny is already out the door to the nearest animal shelter. If there are things that these stupid little Sims have that is easy to get or Johnny already wanted, he will get

At the odd moment, you’ll catch Johnny getting quite sentimental over the game. Working in the army is chaotic, never mind his actual role as demolitions expert, it’s hard for him to ever imagine a day where he settles down. But watching you fret over whether this virtual couch should be placed on the left or right side of the living room has him looking forward to that day (by the way you should put the couch towards the back)

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle has honestly tried every game under the sun if it’s casual and entertaining enough, from PVP shooters to laid-back simulators. If you’re not playing Sims, then he will be. But if you’ve beaten him to the punch he doesn’t make you stop, only sitting back and watching you keenly, commentating and giving you suggestions

He’s actually been part of the creative process since Day 1, when you made Sims versions of you and him, he tried to find the character customisation features that best resembles yours, but could only lament that he couldn’t make your Sim look as good looking as you

He loves starting off the game where your respective Sims are strangers, going through all the motions of wooing you all over again, proving to you that no matter the context Kyle will win your heart. You may have to comfort him with cuddles if your Sim version rejects his Sim’s advances though

Once your Sims are together, this little flirt will tell you that your Sims need more kids knowing full well what that implies

Kyle likes provoking you a little, discreetly suggesting using the ugliest pieces of furniture available in making your house. When you bite back that you’re going to make sure this house looks perfect, he’ll eventually relent after begging with his signature puppy-dog eyes

He’s memorised some of the Sim’s spoken dialogue, particularly the romance lines spoken in that exaggerated flirty tone. He’ll say it to you out of the blue sometimes, causing you to burst out into giggles

The game is all fun and, well, games, but it doesn’t stop Kyle from looking forward to the future. You might not have access to the grim reaper, you may never be able to build a pool surrounded with toilets in real life, but he’s excited to create his own little home and family with you, whatever it may look like

Call of Duty Masterlist

[crowandmousewritingco]

Water Cooler Courting

Pairing: Frankie (Catfish) Morales x gn!reader

Words: 1.4k

Rating G: (brief mention of divorce)

Summary: There's a new coworker that catches the eye of a certain salesman.

Author: Mod Mouse

Notes: This is my entry in AU August challenge by @punkshort and got the prompt of coworker!Frankie. I hope you enjoy this cute little drabble!

You didn’t think an office job was for you, but when you started working in advertising for Standard Oil, it was honestly the best job you could’ve asked for. The working environment was idle for your working patterns. Most of your team was amazing and you could feel yourself getting in the grove of your daily work schedule. 

One man in particular piqued your interest. A sweet middle aged man who wore the same company hat everyday, who you had seen in sales, tried to make subtle glances your direction. In the breakroom, he peaked over the rim of his coffee cup in the morning only to turn away when you looked over at him. And you knew that he didn’t pay attention to anything that happened in that budget meeting. You had to admit he was cute so you decided to keep an eye on this interesting man. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You have to talk to them,” Benny commented leaning against Frankie’s cubicle. 

Frankie, who was putting all of his concentration into organizing the same stack of papers since the beginning of this conversation, didn't look up at his best friend. If he did then he would have to acknowledge what he was implying. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” 

“Come on man, I saw how they were looking at you during the budget meeting. They were thinking, ‘How much will it cost me to take this handsome man out for dinner?’” Benny responded leaning on the edge of the cubicle. 

“It wasn’t like that. They probably just liked my shirt,” Frankie retorted though he knew it was a flimsy excuse. 

“Give me a break Frankie. You have to at least try. How long has it been since you’ve been on a date?” 

Frankie stood from his office chair and gently shoved past Benny on his way to the files room. Benny had been trying to get him out in the dating scene since the beginning of the year. He swore up and down it’s what he needed, but he wanted to deny that maybe he was right. But Frankie wasn’t gonna tell him that. 

“I don’t need to go out on a date. I gotta concentrate on work and my kid,” Frankie rolled his eyes as he turned the corner. 

Benny groaned. “That’s the same excuse you always use. Remember when you liked that girl from what two weeks ago, and had an amazing time yet you ghosted her.” 

Frankie shook his head as they weaved their way through the maze of offices. “She wasn’t the right fit.” 

“She literally said she wanted to go on another date with you while you were still on the date,” He deadpanned. 

Frankie paused in front of the files room and with a sigh turned to his friend. “Okay maybe that wasn’t my best move.” Benny rolled his eyes and Frankie rubbed his temple. “But it’s not a good time really. I just…haven’t been able to get over her. And who knows. Maybe they don’t want some office romance. They did just start four months ago.” 

Benny sighed. “Okay fine but at least get to know them. They’re a cool person. I talked to them about football for like an hour yesterday. Give them a chance and if things go the way that they do, they let it happen.” 

“Will this get you off my back?” He smirked at his best friend. 

“Only time will tell. But for now I must unfortunately return to my humble abode.” He stated as he walked about. Benny turned over his shoulder and called out. “I better see some flirting happening!”  

Frankie took a deep breath as he saw Benny slip around the corner and set the files in their intended slots. His thoughts were running quickly through his head when he heard a familiar giggle. He turned and saw you joking along with a few of your teammates. A blush creeped into his cheeks and he pulled his well loved hat down as he returned to his cubicle. Dammit you were too cute for his own good. He took a sip of his since chilled coffee and sighed. 

Attempting to work was not happening for Frankie. He had been staring at the blinking cursor for well over 15 mins. All he could concentrate on was that laugh. It rang throughout the cubicles in a way that made his heart skip a beat like he hadn’t felt since he met his ex wife. 

“Dammit Benny being right all the time,” Frankie groaned and stood up from his desk. Maybe water would fix his system. He didn’t even wanna tempt himself with the breakroom so off to the water cooler it was. Hopefully the cold water could wake his system. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A dull thud behind your eyes started to develop as you continued to stare at the design you were currently working on, but god only knows the amount of fights you were having with Photoshop. It was evident that your productivity had greatly decreased, and you weren’t finishing this project anytime soon. You sighed and grabbed your mug of coffee though when you realized you already finished your second cup, you rubbed your temple with your knuckle. 

“Guess I should have water then,” You sighed and stood up from your ergonomic office chair. Not even bothering with the break room you stopped by the water cooler in the corner of the office spaces. You set the coffee up below the blue value and sighed when the familiar bubbling sound as water filled your empty cup. 

“Seems like we had the same idea,” A voice commented behind you and you turned to see Frankie standing behind you. 

You smiled as you turned off the tap. “I ironically couldn’t do another cup of coffee. Had to have water at some point today.” 

Frankie chuckled and leaned against the wall. “I get that. Been tryn’ to kick that habit but you see how well that’s going.” He gestured with his empty mug. 

“Well I’m right there with you,” You smirk and hold up your own mug. 

“I see we’re doing amazing.” 

“Just the best. I blame art school. Four years of late nights in the studio really made me dependent on the stuff,” You grinned. 

“The years spent in the military did the same to me.” Frankie added. 

“Oh really where did you serve?” You asked leaning against the wall so Frankie could have a turn. 

“South America,” He answered, turning on the tap. 

You nodded at his answer. “My brother did a tour in Iraq.” You added. 

“Had more in common then I thought,” Frankie remarked tilting his head to the side. 

A smile formed on your lips. “I guess we do.” You took another sip of your water before asking. “How long have you worked here?” 

Frankie thought for a second as he switched the water off. “I think around 4 years. Got the job a year after I got out of the army.” 

“Was sales something you’ve always wanted to do?” You asked looking up at the man curiously. 

“Maybe not a dream of mine but always wanted something stable to support my kid,” Frankie explained with a slight blush. 

You smile softly and felt your heart flutter. “That’s actually really sweet.” 

“Thank you. I’ve been tryin to give her a nice life, but ya know how life is sometimes.” Frankie rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I really do. My dad always tried his best when it came to me and my siblings. I can tell you’re a good dad.” 

This time Frankie couldn’t hide the blush that flushed his cheeks, and you chuckled. “How about I buy you a coffee sometime? I really would like to get you know you better.” 

Frankie had to blink a few times to process the information he just heard. YOU were asking HIM on a date. He had to shake his head to get his thoughts. “Yes um ya I-I would love that.” He replied quickly. 

Heat flushed your cheeks and you nodded. “How about Friday after work? My friend runs a cute cafe just around the corner.” 

“That sounds amazing,” Frankie answered with a smile. 

“Perfect, I will see you around,” You said as you turned back towards your office. 

Frankie watched you return to your cubicle and he couldn’t help but smile like a love sick puppy. This interaction would fuel him for the rest of the week. He turned to walk back to his office when he saw Benny give him a thumbs up from his office. He sighed. He hated when he was right, but maybe this time he would let it slide.

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Pedro Character Taglist

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges @carusolikey @thebeldroramscal @morallyinept @lady-bess @pedrostories @rivnedell

[thebluester2020]

Humbly asking for your horny Jio rant (≧ω≦。)!!!!

(I am ravenous for even the smallest of crumbs)

Summary: [RSV] Jio NSFW Alphabet (I pick my favorite letters so nothing's in order!) Warning(s): 18+ filth (Im not holding back, y'all have been warned) Kinda nothing tbh I'm literally just spitting from the mouth and hoping it makes sense. Rough Sex + Dub-con(?) (In letter D but it's Jio's imagination), Side note(s): Oh girl/boy/sibling...ANON BUCKLE UP. I struggled writing this ngl, I could write a fucking essay about how much this man means to me but I didn't want to use a ask to just rant away so...this is like a normal NSFW ABC fic but with some humor (my horny rantings) sprinkled in so lol, be on the lookout for those. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

quick side note ; to the poor unfortunate souls that may come across this post don't have a single fucking clue who Jio is. This is Jio from the RSV mod aka the man I'd willingly slut myself out to.

extra note alert ; Before we begin though, I want to make one thing really clear.

I'm biased as all hell toward Jio because I have the biggest thing for elves. Woman, man, doesn't matter to me. If they have pointy ears and are unusually attractive and tall, then I'm all in dude. So with that being said? Please believe me when I say that stars shot from my eye sockets when I learned this man was an elf.

AND THAT'S NOT EVEN THE BEST PART.

A = Aftercare (What they're like after sex)

Jio would be the king of aftercare. His dialogue already implies that him and farmer get freaky on the regular so he'll definitely ask you if you need any water or if anywhere is a little more sore than the usual (in which case, he's giving you a massage that puts professionals to shame). But if you say no to any of these and state that you'd rather just cuddle, he's pulling you closer to his body immediately and whispering sweet words to you as he pets your head until you go to sleep.

♡ - "Drink," The soft-spoken word made you steadily crack your eyes open before, through your hazy vision, you saw Jio standing over you with a cup of water in his hand. You snickered quietly to yourself as you propped yourself on your arm to take it, the crispy refreshing taste of the liquid going down your throat both hydrating you as well as giving your body a jolt of awakeness. And as a delicious ache ran through your body, particularly in-between your legs after you and Jio's love-making session.

Your cheeks started to darken and warm a little at the memory of what you and your husband had done only a few minutes ago. Something that Jio quickly picked up on as he smirked at the alluring sight of you growing more and more embarrassed from your own thoughts. "Something on your mind, my love?"

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

Jio would definitely be proud of his muscles. There's a scene where the farmer openly gawks at him when he's meditating in his spouse area so I think after seeing his spouse so openly drool over him. He'd become more focused on his muscles when he trains and would definitely give the farmer a little show every now and again. As for the farmer, though? As cheesy as this response is, I think Jio would love every part of you, there's no part that he favors really because he thinks your literal being is a blessing in his eyes. This means there's definitely a lot of body worship during sex.

♡ - You felt like you were on cloud nine right now as Jio kissed every available surface area of skin on your body.

Each time his lips would ghost over your skin. The more your thighs twitched with the urge to clench if it weren't for your husband situating himself between them, his hand teasingly petting at your soaked cunt much to your dismay. "J-Jio..." You begged, the sound of your whiny voice making the elf throb in his pants before he looked up at you through hooded eyes. He placed one last kiss on your hand before he responded with a throaty "Yes"?

"Please..."

You hated how you felt yourself throb at the sight of him smirking at you, almost as if he were a fox who just an inch closer to capturing his prey. "Please what, my star?" He turned your hand over to press a kiss in the middle of your palm before he moved down to your stomach, kissing down and closer and closer to the area you wanted him most until he stopped again. "You have to be more specific, begging aimlessly won't get you anywhere."

You pouted. "T-There." You tried gesturing to your aching pussy by grinding forward against his clothed dick, eliciting a sharp hiss from him. Yet, as quickly as you tried to seduce him into giving up on reminding you of his manners, he moved back a little to avoid any more of your tempting ministrations.

"You know how to ask properly, not by acting like a tempting vixen." He pinched your thigh lightly as a warning, a whine escaping your lips as you ran your tongue over them.

"Please...touch my pussy, I-I need you."

His praising smile felt like it could light up your very soul. "As you wish, my star."

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Okay so— I feel like when it comes to Jio himself? He's not big on cumming on you. Since he sees as no less than a goddess basically, in his eyes? Cumming on you is degrading, no matter how much you try to convince him that you're into it. However, cumming inside of you is definitely on the books, he loves it. As for you though? This man is a total Munch Master 365 days out of the year. Want to ride his face until he squirts on you? He's into it. When he fucks you and he sees your slick beginning to drip from your hole and onto the floor, he has to resist the urge to eat you out in order to continue stuffing you full. Your cum is essentially ambrosia to him, he could go hours drinking you down and he's never going to be fully satisfied.

♡ - He couldn't get enough of your sweet nectar.

Your delicious slick that dripped from your needy cunt after just a few minutes of foreplay. Jio would've had a mind to laugh if he weren't so focused on sucking on your clit right now, his arms locked around your thighs to keep you from closing them as you moaned and pulled at his hair, the stinging pain encouraging him to keep going in his ministrations whilst he struggled to try and keep a close eye on you.

But, from the combined fact that his head was swirling from both your taste and his growing lust, as well as his bare cock twitching against the bedsheets, the little friction it had from his grinding against the sheets only did enough to make him needier and needier for your warmth rather than actually getting him off!

Then again, in the face of your pleading eyes looking down at him in a silent bid for him to keep going until you came...

How was he able to deny such an expression?

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He definitely would've had a dirty imagination about you once or twice before you two even started dating. However, they would mostly be along the lines of "Yoba, this farmer is so annoying because they say hi to me every day...let me fuck them to take my frustrations out on them". Now, when these thoughts would pop up, he would definitely try to bury them, to the point no matter how hard his dick if after thinking about it. He's not going to falter and touch himself. But oh boy, does it cause him to start to see you in a new light after starting to think about what you look like under your clothes.

♡ - Typically, Jio was in control of himself much more than this.

He wasn't aware of a single thing in this world that could shake his foundations or make him waver in his beliefs. But...it seemed that you were a unique exception because, for the last few nights since the night the two of you began talking since your victory in the Spirit World. His mind has been...plagued, with certain imaginations that is.

Imaginations that focused on the topic of how annoyed he was of you.

It was infuriating how you didn't understand the words 'Go Away'.

So, in the deepest reaches of his mind, he knew the perfect method to make you understand how much he disliked you. He'd approach you in a forest, perhaps you would already be on your way to talk to him one-sidedly once more, and he'd pull you towards him before smashing his lips against you.

His cock would twitch inside his pants at the sound of your needy moan, eager and possibly elated at the fact that you were finally getting the attention you were seeking from the very beginning as Jio swiftly pressed you against the bark of a tree and flip up your skirt.

"Tch," He click his tongue at the sight of your soaked panties, lightly pinching your backside when you wiggled your ass to tempt him into giving you more. "...Such a needy thing, hold still. I'll give you what you so eagerly want." He'd whisper, more to himself rather than you as he quickly freed his cock and wasted no more time to pull your panties to the side before he stuffed you full in one thrust.

Yet the second he'd begin to move...he'd snap himself of his thoughts.

Now the elf was faced with a new task. To find a way to calm his raging hard-on, he refused to fall into the pit of temptation that he was so certain you were trying to lead him into.

extra note ; Continuing on my last point—

He's. A. Tsundere.

He's. Mean (with that hidden sweet side to spice it all up)

And not to expose myself but I fucking love mean men. And to be honest? I'll go a step further. THEY DON'T EVEN HAVE TO BE NICE??? During the Ridgeside quest line, the first two years of my playthrough revolved around J I O, and with every single mean dialogue he dished my way, I licked right up.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

I think of Jio as a half-in-half case. On most nights, he's super romantic and likes to treat your body as if it was gifted to him by Heaven itself (i.e If you're not confusing the moment for a Wattpad scene then he's thinking he hasn't done enough). On the flip side though, he'll ditch the romance if he's super pent-up or if you're explicitly asking for him to treat you a lil' more roughly.

♡ - His heart felt like it was close to bursting.

Within the dimly lit room of your shared bedroom, the soft sounds of your sexes meeting could be heard as he trusted up into you as you sat on his lap, the two of you sharing a hugging embrace as his cock twitched inside of you at the sound of your moans.

But, his orgasm was steadily becoming an afterthought as all Jio could focus on was you. After all that he had been through in his life, all the sacrifices he's made—

How could he be so lucky to be with you in this moment?

To have your love and attention?

"My love," He panted out, his voice uncharacteristically breathless and whiny as he nearly pleaded for your eyes to be on him. Shakily, you took your face from the crook in his neck to look at him, your hands sliding up his body until they cupped his face. And from that simple action alone, the elf had fallen deeper in love with you.

"Y-Yes" You responded to him, your face somehow warming even more as you looked into your husband's lovesick eyes. A small smile was on his smile and his cheeks as well as the tips of his ears appeared flushed.

Jio smiled as you caressed and held his cheeks before his face fell to rest in the valley between your breasts. "You're so pretty." He sighed dreamily.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation Headcanon)

He doesn't jerk off much, to be honest. (And to be honest? I feel like his libido doesn't really "activate" unless you're around him) Even when you two are in a relationship and I fully believe it's because 1. He's usually too busy/focused on his missions to think of rubbing one out or 2. He has you so if he's in the mood then he'll just go to you. But should you not be in the picture at the moment? He'll just get himself off to a piece of clothing that smells like you or his imagination.

♡ - "Fuuckk..." Jio whispered to himself as he sat on the edge of the bed, his hand slowly stroking his cock as he breathed in the smell of your scent from a shirt you left behind on the bed. The combination of that plus the imagination of your hands being the one on his dick rather than his own...it made for a pretty convincing moment that led him closer and closer to his orgasm.

It wasn't often that the elf masturbated. It wouldn't ever compare to the real thing.

But...when you said you'd be on Ginger Island for the next few days to attend to businesses there, he was expected to uphold the task of keeping things here on your farm in order.

And he'd do just that.

However, he didn't expect that his body would react so strongly to your absence. Even as his ministrations on himself slowly got faster and faster on his cock, going so far as to even spit on his dick to try and poorly imitate your slick and how it'd make your movements faster.

It was dull in comparison.

So dull that as his hands slowed and he came to a stop. All he felt was boredom. "...Yoba," He hissed in frustration.

He'd simply wait until you returned.

final note alert ; I saved my biggest thought bubble for the end so here we go-

Jio is the best-modded husband hands-down. Literally fight me on this. It's hard to convey my thoughts fully without giving concrete evidence (+ the fact that I'm going based off my memory since I haven't done a playthrough of the RSV questline in a lil' bit) but I think that anyone who's on the fence of RSV needs to give it a shot, even if it's just for Jio 💀. Like deadass, the whole reason I started this blog in the first place was to have a reason to rant about this man every now and again before it became a place for me to rant about hot people in general.

To reiterate, I'm biased as hell because I have a thing for elves and mean guys but seriously to anyone who reads this.

GIVE RSV A TRY.

Hot elf guy aside, the character stories in the mod are super good. Like I'd recommend Shiro, June, Ian etc. ANYDAY OF THE WEEK. I can't imagine my modded Stardew without Ridgeside Village so-

YEAH PLAY THE MOD SO I HAVE MORE PEOPLE TO RANT ABOUT THE HOT MEN WITH <33

[whatsupwalnut]

Painland Week Day 2: Myths/Legends

@ deathsankh: lmao does Edwin Payne rly think i cant see him 😂

@ deathsankh: poor kid’s been in hell for 73 years and he comes right back to school? NERD

@ deathsankh: omg he made a friend, i love this for him

@ deathsankh: his lil friend is cute but imma let them cook 🙏

@ deathsankh: bumped into the boys again today, they brought me an offering

@ deathsankh: little girl didnt know she was dead, poor thing

@ deathsankh: i can’t share deets (thanks hipaa) but she died in her apartment and she’s been stuck there for decades

@ deathsankh: they played a game with her and suddenly her soul is calling to me??? okay boys, go offff

@ deathsankh: they thought i couldnt see them BEHIND A DESK lmaooooo 

@ deathsankh: these new kids crack me up

@ deathsankh: the dead boys are still in that apartment, they can’t hide for shit

@ deathsankh: 🏅 congrats to the worst to ever do it 🏅

@ deathsankh: they sent me two more souls in the past month and they’re still scared of me

@deathsankh: we’re colleagues now darlings, have fun out there 💅

@ deathsankh: stop, the little dead boys

@ deathsankh: im obsessed

@ deathsankh: they started a “detective agency” and ive gotten like 16 tributes from them so far

@ deathsankh: and get this

@ deathsankh: they’re calling it

@ deathsankh: THE DEAD BOYS DETECTIVE AGENCY 😂😂

@ deathsankh: like that’s not gunna attract attention from the afterlife

@ deathsankh: i put my contacts on notice, hands off unless they go thru me

@ deathsankh: the night nurse could be a problem but who’s gunna say no to me 💅

@ deathsankh: these boys are lucky i like they, they literally freed a ghost IN THEIR OFFICE tonight

@ deathsankh: like im not gunna sense them hiding on the windowsill 🙄

@ deathsankh: i should have said BOO right before i took Wilfred 😂 but u know im too profesh

@ deathsankh: i guess the dead boy detectives got spooked bc now they’re in port townsend??? 

@ deathsankh: BITCH IM EVERYWHERE 😂😂

@ deathsankh: i gotta call my girl Lilith, she was out there last time we spoke and it’s been too long

@ deathsankh: their little friend kinda reminds me of her

@ deathsankh: these boys stay getting themselves into situations ong

@ deathsankh: i cant talk specifics but that dad was a piece of work

@ deathsankh: im only sorry i couldnt get to him myself.

@ deathsankh: Lilith is Not Doing Well, please reach out if you have her info 🙏

@ deathsankh: shit is POPPING OFF in port townsend

@ deathsankh: why cant these kids take a proper holiday

@ deathsankh: night nurse is ON MY ASS like i don’t already know about this

@ deathsankh: she takes this shit too seriously lmao

@ deathsankh: YO

@ deathsankh: HELL????

@ deathsankh: HITTING UP MY CONTACTS ASAP @DESPAIR KEEP AN EYE OUT FOR A SAD NERDY KID IN UNDERWEAR YOU’LL KNOW THE ONE

@ deathsankh: oh shit what up @simonpages 

@ deathsankh: Thank you to everyone who reached out to Lilith, including the dead boy’s little friend! She’s doing much better now and hell has a new resident :) 

@ deathsankh: NOT LILITH lmao my bad 😂

@ deathsankh: the boys are out of hell but everyone is still sad??? they said their neighbor died but i didnt hear anything? mods????????????????????????????????????

@ deathsankh: this one is out of my jurisdiction gl out there boys 🫡

@ deathsankh: whole squad is back in London

@ deathsankh: the medium’s parents are annoying i need to give them a buzz…

@ deathsankh: NOT LIKE THAT u know i can’t take ppl before their time, but like…

@ deathsankh: they need a lil reminder that im coming :) 

@ deathsankh: i gotta take the night nurse out for drinks bc she is STRUGGLING @ThePrincipal u crazy for this one queen 😂😂 girls night soon?

@ deathsankh: fr tho does nn think i look at all that paperwork bc LMAO

@ deathsankh: the tweedy one loves it tho have fun king

@ deathsankh: like im not gunna approve the asylum paperwork sksksksks

@ deathsankh: omg they got the news and the whole squad is crying in the club 

@ deathsankh: even the night nurse lmao im never letting her live this down

@ deathsankh: maybe i shouldnt have delivered the news personally, i think i almost killed the boys again 😬 my bad yall

@ deathsankh: was anyone surprised the curly one kissed the tweedy one when i told them 😂

@ deathsankh: took them long enough tbh 😻

[aethon-recs]

Love the blog!

Wondering if you have any Tomarry/Harrymort case-fic/mystery recs?

Thanks so much for the ask! I also can’t get enough of the casefic/mystery genre.

Usually I throw together a mix of both WIPs (why WIPs?) and complete fics, but for this set of 15 recs, I selected for fics which are either complete or still actively updating, so as not to leave you on a cliffhanger on a mystery fic! A few of these fics are outright casefics, and a few of these have a mystery component where the big reveal comes to light as the story unfolds. Hope you enjoy!

*

Tomarrymort Mystery Recs

aurora polaris by @aglassroseneverfades (E, 153k, WIP)

Harry wakes up one day with no memory of his past, upon which he’s greeted by a handsome, doting older man named Gaunt who claims that he and Harry have been in a relationship together for years. 

Blood in the wine by @girl-with-goats (E, 31k, complete)

Tom Riddle achieves immortality by the means of vampirism. Enter young copper Harry Potter, fresh recruit from Scotland Yard, sent to investigate the mysterious disappearances of all the young men who uncannily look like him.

Corpse Party: Hogwarts Edition by @robinegberts (E, 67k, complete)

Harry, Hermione, and Ron skip the Halloween feast, only to wake up to a world where the castle isn’t right. It’s cold, empty, quiet. The layers of dust suggest it’s been abandoned for years. And outside the classroom lies the corpse of a girl who went missing years ago. As they wander the halls of this strange alternate version of Hogwarts, they encounter corpse after corpse, warnings left behind by the dead, and for some reason Harry feels they’re being followed.

Dead Leaves on a Wet October Day by @trelloreads (T, 29k, complete)

Harry is a ghost hunter. Riddle Manor is his strangest case yet.

Everything We Dream Can Be Real by @vdoshu (E, 52k, complete)

Harry had a life after Voldemort. He had a family. He had a career. And then one day it was all ripped away when he woke up at Number 4 Privet Drive. Or: Where Harry doesn’t exactly get that chance to do it over again. And things are Not Okay.

Keepsake by IceLynx (M, 5k, complete)

“I am Lord Voldemort, and I have not kidnapped you.” “That's... I should have known that.” Because Voldemort's words ring true, deep in Harry's heart. Harry tries to remember, but the thoughts won't come to him. The more he forces it, the more obvious the gaps in his memories become. “Why didn't I know that?”

Let's Cross Over by @whisprchrysalis (M, 251k, complete)

A hundred years after the end of the Second War, Harry Potter, Master of Death, unwittingly helps the last fragment of Lord Voldemort’s soul escape Limbo. Now, bound to Tom Riddle for the next five years, Harry has to coexist with the man he feared the most. Or: Auror MOD Harry and Tom Riddle strike an uneasy truce and solve crimes together, and Harry has to decide if his capacity to save everyone includes everyone, really.

love seeping from their guns by @purplemineralwater (E, 41k, complete)

Detective Harry Potter is just trying to enjoy his holiday when the tranquility of the lovely cruise along the Nile is shattered by the discovery that Theodore Nott has been shot. He was young, rich and beautiful, a boy that had everything – until he lost his life. Or: Harry investigates some murder, Tom tries to help, everyone has many, many secrets.

No Body, No Crime by @duplicitywrites (M, 20k, complete)

Harry works as a car mechanic in a small town. He and Ginny are best friends, their close bond the product of a traumatic event that scarred them both as children. One day, Ginny confides in Harry that she thinks her husband—the charming, enigmatic Tom Riddle—is cheating on her. A day later, Ginny goes missing. Harry is convinced that Tom is behind her disappearance, and becomes determined to exact justice by any means necessary.

One Year In Every Ten by @saintsenara (E, 165k, WIP)

A decade after the final battle, just when the wizarding world thinks itself safe, a serial killer emerges, leaving a trail of dead women in his wake. Each of the bodies bears a gruesome message for the Aurors. A message which claims the Dark Lord has risen again. All Harry wants is something to distract him from a marriage falling apart at the seams. Maybe his latest plan to save the world, requiring Lord Voldemort to agree to turn his talents in the realm of wrongdoing to solving the case, will be just the thing…

Personal Assistant by @phantomato (E, 10k, complete)

Harry receives a mysterious package. Inside is a ring. A weird, ugly, old one made of gold and some kind of black stone.

Reconciling with Death by Madame_Psychosis (M, 27k, complete)

Featuring a dead girl in a forest, little-soldier-boys, some tenuous grasps on reality, straw mothers, a ghost in a bathroom and, slowly and sadly, kindness from a boy who’s just passing through time.

The Matchmaker by @eris-dawn (M, 44k, complete)

The Matchmaker is a serial abductor whose modus operandi consists of pairing two same-sex individuals together in a coffin, six feet underground - buried alive. He isn't a killer. He's a kidnapper with morals, and Detective Chief Inspector Tom Riddle finds himself obsessed with solving the case. Unfortunately for Tom, the Matchmaker is just as intent on knowing him.

Tom Riddle and the Quest for Vulnerability by lejf (E, 16k, complete)

They found him in an old house, under the stairs. His face was pale and instantly recognisable. aka: Auror Harry Potter has eighteen-year-old Tom Riddle bent over the table barely a day after he becomes his ward.

Wings of Ash by IceLynx (M, 31k, complete)

If eight people going missing isn't cause enough for panic, one of them being found dead might do it. The Ministry of Magic has no choice but accept all the help on offer, including that of former Auror Harry Potter. For Harry, it might be a chance to get his job back, if he can only crack the case first. Surely Harry can be forgiven if he too takes all the help that's offered. Including that of his pet snake, the former Dark Lord Voldemort.

*

[residenthughes]

starting afresh

pairing: leon kennedy x gender neutral reader

word count: 1.3K

tags/warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, re4r leon with re2r haircut/hairstyle

summary: it's been six years since the raccoon city incident. some things change, and some things stay the same (where re4r leon cuts his hair as short as it was in re2r for the first time)

notes: whoever made the mod(s) for leon to have his re2r hairstyle in re4r, no words. just take my money. I'm begging. but if y'all have seen those screenshots/played with the mod yourself, you just know how good he looks with his hair short :((( makes me so soft! hehe

feel like i kind of stepped up my dialogue here, thanks to all the fics I've been reading as of lately 😈 couldn't be more thankful, haha! hope y'all enjoy this and please feel free to let me know your thoughts on this!

“What do you think?”

You’re at a loss for words. Jaw slack and eyes wide. You’re overreacting, you know you are but this quite literally came out of nowhere. It was an uneventful, slow Sunday. As per yours and Leon’s routine, the leisurely day was spent draped in a citrus scented duvet and immersing yourselves in cosy cuddles to recharge for the long week ahead. It was only when your lips ghosted over the rosewood marks of love peppered across the expanse of Leon’s clavicle, hands feverish and wandering that your actions ceased upon the growl of your stomach.

Leon can only laugh, kissing away the flush of your cheeks as he mumbles against your forehead. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s make some food.”

You pout, wanting to beg for five more minutes (like you hadn’t before), bones aching for the pamper the cloudlike bed provides, but Leon’s already leaving you, arms extending up to the ceiling as he stretches. The sliver of afternoon light peeking through the curtains basks his toned body in all kinds of flattering light, muscles expanding and contracting. 

Leon turns to look at you, lips plump with love as the duvet drapes your body like some fine ballroom gown. He swears his heart beats out of his chest. There really is no one as beautiful as you. 

“Race you to the kitchen?” A teasing eyebrow is raised and even though Leon sets himself in motion to sprint, you don’t budge. Not even an inch. 

He deflates, eyes rolling as he pads over to your side of the bed.

“Don’t wanna,” you mumble as you attempt to bury yourself into the bed, cocooning yourself with the dark shadow grey duvet. “Too lazy.”

Leon sighs. “I’ll give you a piggyback ride?”

Your attention is grabbed. You remove the duvet from your face, sly smirk positioning itself amongst your features.

“I’m listening.”

You cupping behind your ear is what does it for Leon. Dramatic as always.

A huff of amusement sounds from him. Considering the extent as to which the man spoils you rotten, you should be babbling for him to recant his offer, carrying yourself to the kitchen before you two move in a synchronised dance practised all the years you’ve been together as you make food. But Leon’s already perched up on your side of the bed, back towards you with his hands behind him.

“Of course you are,” he beckons for you with the flutter of his fingers, an easy smile sent your way over his shoulder. “Now, hop on before your stomach eats itself.”

You follow his lead, as you always do. Hooking your legs around his waist and circling your arms loosely around his neck. You don’t forget to show your appreciation, peppering his nape with kisses that have laughter pouring out of Leon like honey. Once you’re in the kitchen of your shared apartment, Leon sets you down on the cold countertop with the squeeze of your thighs and opens the fridge.

“Shit,” you crane your neck to look into the fridge too. Much like your stomach, it’s pretty empty. “Need to head to the store if we want something edible for dinner.”

“Is there anything for now at least?” You really can’t be arsed to wait to go get some groceries, make a meal and then eat.

“Kind of, but we definitely need to go shopping after this.” Leon states as he brings out the remnants of the fridge. You go to grab the spices from the cabinet and the last of the eggs and stare at your ingredients.

“Let’s get this party started.” 

You groan. 

Leon can be so lame sometimes. Yet so lovable all the time.

-

Once the appetising brunch made with nothing but the utmost of love settles in your stomach, you reluctantly begin to egg yourself on to completing the rest of your weekend’s work and preparing for your Monday back at the office. Blue light glasses perched against the bridge of your nose, you gnaw at the end of your pencil, legs crossed in the way Leon always jokes in the shape of a pretzel. You’ve left quite a bit of work for yourself to complete tonight, so you don’t see yourself leaving your workspace anytime soon.

Leon understands, he always does. Kisses your forehead delicately and murmurs something about getting some stuff from the grocery store for dinner. He’s out the door before you can get a word in. You now understand why he left in such a hurry, understand why he took longer than usual. 

Before you, your longtime partner, with long dirt blond locks that framed the angles of his cheekbones, sports a new hairstyle. Or should you say old. You haven’t seen him like this since you first started dating - bashful young adults about to embark on their journey into adulthood, sweaty palms linked and heart beats in sync. Ever since the ruinous events of Raccoon City, you noticed that with all the scars and burdens Leon carries with him that he never once looked the same. Face gaunt and eyes sunken in. It took a long while before life returned to his eyes. And though you were beyond ecstatic that Leon was seemingly getting better, you couldn’t help but take note of his hair. He never cut it like before. Never. 

Opting for longer strands of his gorgeous hair, Leon always gave a chuckle and said, “thought you always wanted me to grow my hair out,” whenever you asked. It was sweet of him to do so, sweet of him to say, but you and him both knew that wasn’t entirely true. However, you never pried - that was not in your nature, and certainly not evident in all the years you’ve been with Leon. So, you didn’t ask again and when the time came that Leon’s huffs of annoyance filled your ears as he struggled with keeping the strands out of his face, he departed with a smile and cut a mere two inches off his almost shoulder length hair. It remained that way for the next six years.

Now, having grown into his rugged features, the short hair length from all those years ago conjures something else in you. It feels nostalgic but new -  feels right and looks that way too. But more than anything, you feel proud. Proud of Leon and all that he is, all that he’s become despite everything.

“Barber went a bit crazy, didn’t he?”

Oh, bless him. He’s so awkward, so endearing it hurts. Pools of blue avert your gaze, the floor apparently more interesting, fingertip scratching the surface of his cheeks that burn with ruby red. This is a big moment for Leon, you think, but you know better than anyone that he doesn’t want it to be. Just wants your reassurance and all the calmness that comes with it.

Your hands against Leon’s cheeks shift his eyes to yours, getting an eyeful of the absolute fondness that swims in your eyes. He simply drowns in it - knows the glimmer in your eyes signifies the pride that swells in your chest, the tenderness of your touch loving and reassuring. He did well, has always done so well. Deserves his flowers and the whole damn garden. 

“Maybe,” you giggle and your joy is contagious. Smiling with you, Leon feels you twiddle the strands of his hair between your fingers. Slow and gentle - like your love is. It’s so sweet. “But, I’m not mad at it. Not one bit.”

In all the time you’ve been with Leon, there hasn’t been any more than a handful of times you can recall where he willingly leaned on you for support. Not because you lacked the capacity to do so, but because the solitary nature and secrecy of his job kept him from doing so. Facing his nightmares as much as he could by himself, meeting his new nightmares on missions by himself - everything by himself. But in moments like these, where the significance of his trauma can be lost in translation, he surrenders himself to you. Altogether. Unabashed and brave. He couldn’t be more dashing than he is right now, all versions of himself served to you on a silver platter. 

You fall in love all over again.

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

~*~

1. Hi. Thank you for the last itmf, the recommendations made me cry. Again thanks to the hard work of the mods.

Right now for itmf I'm looking for fanfics where Wei Wuxian says "fuck it" to the cultivation world and everyone think "Good riddance" just to end up regretting. Extra points if LWJ goes with him or call out everyone. Similar to "The Line Between Good and Evil" by Dandelion_sama ( Really good fic) @anime-trash-parody

you've heard that melody before by Stratisphyre (M, 65k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, POV Multiple, Multiple Canon Character Deaths, Depictions of depression, Light Dom/sub, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics) maybe? people don't say "good riddance" b/c he cast some sort of blanket amnesia spell, but they SURE DO REGRET IT

wide enough and wild by impossibletruths (E, 64k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Getting Together, Canonical Accidental Baby Acquisition, Families of Choice, References to Depression, Happy Ending, I Swear To God I’m Giving Them A Happy Ending, Overzealous Use Of Imagery, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Well Except WN But He Was Already Dead So, Fix-It of Sorts) he does go back

The Line Between Good and Evil by Dandelion_sama (G, 34k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, What-If, Rebirth, Time Travel, kind of Mass Reborn, reverse uno, Canon-Typical Violence, WIP)

The Best I Can by Zephyr (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 26k, LJY & WWX, wangxian, WWX talking to his donkey, Canon Divergence, Light Angst, Drama, Recovery, Coming of Age, Secret Identity Fail, Friendship, Rogue Cultivator LWJ, Road Trips, POV Multiple, Happy Ending)

focal, filler, and line by bosbie (T, 26k, wangxian, canon divergence, flower shop au, fluff, hurt/comfort, pining, falling in love, WWX is not recognized in Dafan mountain, slice of life, WIP)

🔒 My Reason To Live by HeloSoph (Not rated, 3k, LSZ & WWX, Post-First Siege of the Burial Mound, Child LSZ, He's actually a Wei..., Suicidal Thoughts, Not Cultivation world friendly, Not JC friendly, not NMJ friendly, not LQR friendly, not JGS friendly, YLLZ WWX, WWX Deserves Better, And this time... he knows this..., A-Yuan is the best boy, Parent-Child Relationship, Parent WWX, BAMF WWX, wwx and a-yuan leave the BM..., WWX Leaves The Cultivation World, and they set on a journey to find a new home...)

And They Have Escaped The Weight of Darkness by cosmicmilktea (T, 10k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Memory Loss, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Screw the Cultivation world tbh, The Lan precepts deserves better, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, domestic life, Social justice boyfriends wangxian, Happy Ending)

Home isn’t Where the Heart is. by Hauntcats (Not Rated, 7k, WangXian)

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not Jiāng Chéng Friendly)

( 🔒 but I'm not in charge of sorrow (so please don't ask me when) by Tavina (M, 75k, NHS & NMJ, NHS & OCs, LXC & NHS, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Passive Suicidal Ideation, Found Family, Unconventional Families, Families of Choice, Post-Canon, Post-Guānyīn Temple Scene, What’s a Reconciliation Anyway?, Internalized Acephobia, Depression, Mental Health Issues, An Absolute Boatload of Nie OCs, Background characters and relationships, Intergenerational Trauma, the Horrific Persistence of Memory, NHNS Needs a Hug, NMJ is dead even when he's alive, JGY is also dead but like you get the impression he used to be alive, Sometimes 'just walk out' IS the answer, Non-Chronological, lots of people are dead in this fic and this fic is about why it's not okay) If you’d like another character doing the same thing, ie fucking off and leaving the cultivator world )

~*~

2. Helloooo, can I have for the next ITMF some fics with something like ghost WWX? I know there's a tag but I've seen some fics where the authors don't tag them with that, and some where he's not actually a ghost (more like a memory or apparition?) that shows up randomly in the cultivation world. Both work for me (just no JC bashing please!). Thank you! @jiangclaritybell

🧡 Ghosts Shouldn’t by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 15k, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

asymptotic by chinxe (T, 26k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Pining, for 20+ years as per the course with lwj)

🔒 The Time Traveler's Soul by mondengel (Not rated, 2k, wangxian, time travel, podfic by flamingwell)

🔒 scatter and sunder by silversshadow (T, 15k, XuanLi, WangXian, Temporary Character Death, Canon Divergence)

Teatime with the Dead by Winxhelina (T, 6k, wangxian, Ghost WWX, Love Confessions, Kisses, Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst,bGhost City)

one good thing by Yuu_chi (T, 26k, WangXian, Modern AU, Ghost WWX, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, I swear there really is a happy ending, And an alarming amount of rabbits, [Podfic] One Good Thing by jellyfishfire)

~*~

3.

Are there any fics which feel like this?

Or where wwx feels like this?

Thankyou very much

Also all these arts are by Ibuki Satsuki @constellationdks

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4. Hi! I’m looking for fics where wwx cries in the middle of the night and lwj comforts him and vise versa maybe they woke the other up bc they were sobbing. Wangxian hugs and having emotional intimacy each other. Thank you!

hunters seeking solid ground by Attila (E, 23k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, discussion of canon character death, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Getting Together, Yearning, Literal Sleeping Together, Really Excessive Amounts of Hurt/Comfort) here's a GREAT fic that's all about that

hold me close by gentil-minou (Flyingsuits) (E, 13k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Porn with Feelings, Emotional Sex, Grief, Mental Health Issues, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Character Study, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Anal Sex) If I may plug my own fic, there's a scene where lwj wakes from a nightmare and cries and wwx comforts him

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5. inmf lwj whump. the heavier, the better. happy ending appreciated, but not necessary. Physical whump is nice, but ain't picky. Thank you for the hard work! @jawla-mukhi

Stained With Blood and Tears by FaramirsBlessing (G, 63k, wangxian, LXC/JC, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst w Happy Ending, Hurt LWJ, Doctors & Physicians, Chinese medicine, Medical Procedures, Major Character Injury, Injury Recovery, Pet Names, People cry, Bedside Vigils, nobody dies tho, Sad WWX, Night Hunts, Post-Canon, JC is a good brother, Poisoning, Forehead Kisses, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, WWX loves his husband's hair okay, Cuddling & Snuggling, Delirium, mix of novel and series, so much hand holding, Chaste Kisses, resentful energy, the juniors ship all the adults, they are the humor in this tbh, PTSD, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian)

New Perspective Series by mrcformoso (T, 35k, WangXian, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Fatherhood, Regrets, Flashbacks, POV LWJ, LWJ-centric, Canonical Character Death - WWX, Pining LWJ, LWJ Has Feelings Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī Needs a Hug, Character Development, Dead WWX, Introspection, LWJ is Bad at Feelings, Character Study, Regretful, LWJ Breaking Toxic Cycles, Canon Compliant, LWJ in Seclusion, Post-LWJ in Seclusion, Child LSZ)

a buried and burning flame by otherhippo (hippopotamus) (T, 17k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kinda dark?, Angst with a Happy Ending, does it count as bedsharing if theres...no bed, Imprisonment, Hurt/Comfort)

Across the street to another life by danegen (M, 99k, WangXian, Modern AU, unleashed au, Family Fluff, Set in America, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Addiction, Crime, Amnesia, Ableist Language, another fridged mother, POV Alternating, past wwx/ofc, past wwx/omc, Medium parent YZY, A-Yuan is wwx's biological son, Musicians, Happy Ending)

🔒the map of days by everythingispoetry (M, 20k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Permanent Injury, Recovery, Disability, Parenthood, Character Study, Thirteen Years of WWX's Death)

Alter by Solmae (E, 162k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Drama & Romance, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Rape/Non-con Elements, Gang Rape, Forced Prostitution, PTSD, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, Explicit Sexual Content, Sexual Slavery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Torture) LWJ is kept as a sex slave by the Wen sect

hold me close by gentil-minou (Flyingsuits) (E, 13k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Porn with Feelings, Emotional Sex, Grief, Mental Health Issues, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Character Study, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Anal Sex) LWJ struggles with WWX's death, even after WWX's return

Lan Yuan's War by BurningTea (G, 196k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Angst, Sick LWJ, Hurt/comfort, Eventual Happy Ending)

~*~

6. itmf fic where wwx cheats on lwj

~*~

7. itmf fics about granny wen! any fics about granny wen being a bamf, or being the (grand)parental all of our favs desperately need. looking for feel good fics. some angst is okay, but a happy ending is a must. ty all!

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not Jiāng Chéng Friendly) Not sure if this counts as it's not really about Granny Wen, but she does become sect leader of the Wen Remnants in this & mingles with other sect leaders at a discussion conference

Granny Knows Best by The_Snarkivist (T, 5k, OYZZ/WN, JL/LSZ, Getting Together, Fluff, Accidental Elderly Acquisition, More OYZZ content in 2022 agenda, WN Centric, Let WN Be Happy Agenda, Happy Ending, fast burn, Granny does know best, POV WN, Post-Canon)

~*~

8. hii how are you? I'm in the mood for a fic where either wwx or lwj go incoherent (sexually maybe) and the other takes care of them.

thank u sm for ur work and time!! @mercurygirlwt28

To Know, To Be Known Series by cqlorphan (E, 38k, WangXian, PWP, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, Cock Warming, Multiple Orgasms, Marathon Sex, Under-negotiated Kink, Porn with Feelings, Aftercare, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, sex tears, gratuitous use of names, Begging, this is actually...really soft, Kink Discovery, Post-Canon, Switch WangXian, Cock rings, Rimming, Edging) Lwj definitely goes incoherent a few times!

~*~

9. Please recommend some wangxian mafia au/ dark wangji modern au fics . Moreover Mafia wangji is so hott🥵 @itzweiwuxian

🔒🧡 Rule Number One: Never get attached. by KizuKatana (E, 130k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O, Criminal underworld AU, Fluff and angst, Crime boss LWJ, Rouge criminal genius WWX, Explicit Sex)

to give a snapdragon by suton (T, 1k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mob, Dark LWJ, Minor ZhuiYi, Ambiguous/Open Ending) Short but sweet!

luminous by azuresummer (E, 50k, WIP, WangXian, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominant LWJ, Submissive WWX, Modern AU, Merpeople, A/B/O Dynamics, Dark LXC, Dark LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Protective LWJ, Crime Boss LWJ, Omega WWX, Siren WWX, Merperson WWX, Hurt WWX, WWX Whump, Precious WWX, Spoiled WWX, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Nesting, Scenting, Power Imbalance, Obsession, Kidnapping, Organized Crime, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Excessive Amounts of Tenderness, Pining LWJ, Dark WangXian)

We do have a Mafia / Cop / Detective / Thief comp if you haven't checked it out yet ^^

how to be a heartbreaker by sweetlolixo (E, 105k, WangXian, Modern AU, Sugar Daddy LWJ, Sugar Baby WWX, Dark WWX, Dark LWJ, Pining LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Crossdressing WWX, Seductress WWX, Eventual Happy Ending, Dirty Talking LWJ, They Do Fall In Love and there’s Fluff, Dark!Wangxian, Power Couple, Off the Charts Sexual Tension, Size Kink, Daddy Kink, degradation kink) lwj darker in the 2nd part of this, this one is real good too. 2nd part has ambiguous ending.

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10. Hello! I'd like to make a request for the next fic finder- it's not necessarily itmf, more like "does it exist?" Crossover with tgcf, but focusing on a Guzi and A-Yuan friendship? I've only ever seen 2 artworks (both from the same artist). And I've tried searching, but no luck, does anyone else know if such a story exists? Or is too niche a request? Thank you ❤ @theladypeartree

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11. Hello! I'm in the mood of a fic where Wwx feels hurt/insecure about Lwj not burning paper money to him while he was dead. @annebaneriddle

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12. Hi! For ITMF, could you recommend me a fic where WWX collect children and become their father figure/mentor? I want MXY is one of those children if you can but other is fine too. I prefer if its not modern AU, except if it was modern with cultivation/magic. Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

❤️ Seen and not heard by eatmyass (E, 51k, wangxian, case fic, no sunshot, kid fic, dadxian, strangers to lovers, found family, LWJ pov, pining, fake/pretend relationship, first time, falling in love)

Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste (T, 36k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Adoption, Family Fluff, Kid fic, Family drama, Fluff, [PODFIC] Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste by lunatique)

🔒and having a marvelous time by varnes (E, 108k, WangXian, Yúnmèng Siblings, Sound of Music AU, (i know!!! i know. stay with me on this.), Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Family Feels, spies to lovers???, Protective Siblings, Sometimes You Just Want Your Dads To Admit They're Your Dads, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

13. I'm looking for niche au fics! The more obscure the better: I've previously encountered figure skating, amish, cave diving, and surgeon aus. No WIPS please :) @mostergreentea

Into the Depths by elytchaeke (T, 47k, WangXian, Modern AU, Cave Diving, Slow Burn, not that slow, Speluncaphobia, Claustrophobia, Descriptions of Corpses, Drowning, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Sharing Body Heat, The Inherent Eroticism of Wordless Communication, Corpse Handling) cave diving fic that op is talking about

The Amish AU by bufflehead, goofs_n_gaffs (T, 13k, WangXian, XuanLi, Modern AU, but they're amish, Crack, Not taken seriously, Slurpee Acquisition, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigan, rated h for hector, pitchforks, References to Shakespeare, Cultural Appropriation, of the amish, Fishing, Buggies, Violence Against Chickens, Bad Cooking, Goose Metaphors, First Kiss, Party Host JW) amish fic that op is talking about

Always Be Closing by betts (E, 32k, WangXian, QingXian, Modern AU, America, Office, Kid Fic, Drunken Kissing, Semi-Public Sex, Sexting, Divorce, Falling In Love, Bank Robbery, Secret Relationship, Co-workers) commercial lending au

🧡 Faire thee well by Scrippio (T, 77k, WangXian , ChengQing, XuanLi, 3Zun, Modern AU, Renaissance Faire, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Slow Burn)

[Podcast] New Year, New Pod! jellyfishfire, kisahawklin (G, 2.5-3 hrs, Modern AU, Streaming, MP3, Cold Read, Trailers, Recommendations) @kisahawklin and @jellyfishfire did a great podcast recommending various fic and podfic where MDZS cast have unusual (for them) occupations. I bet a bunch of these would scratch your itch!

there is no limited dimensions by Stratisphyre (M, 122k, WangXian, NieLan, MianQing, WN/Other(s), Star Trek Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Assumed Character Death, Minor Character Death Tags on Each Chapter, references to non-con, references to canonical slavery, (The Orion Syndicate is just really bad okay?), bizarre space mpreg, Implied Future Pairings, Implied NHS/Others, POV Multiple, Accidental Child Acquisition, Found Family, Implied Future 3zun, Genius WWX) Star Trek AU (you don't need any familiarity with star trek to read)

Waiting for Spring Series by thievinghippo (E, 225k, WangXian, Modern AU, Sports, Baseball, Switch WangXian, mentions of past emotional abuse, slight angst, Happy Ending, Pining, Masturbation)

Creatures of Emotion by thievinghippo (E, 33k, WangXian, Modern AU, Rimming, Phone Sex, Blow Jobs, Office Sex)

light a lantern (and guide me home) by xuanxuanwo (ostentatiouslyrealistic) (T, 63k, WangXian, Moth WWX, Witch LWJ, Tea, Plants, Mountains, Loneliness, Curses, Curse Breaking, Melancholy, Friendship, Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Thunderstorms, Fluff and Angst, Minor Character Death, Memories) mothxian/witchji!

Wei Wuxian Makes a Wish series by natcat5 (M, 119k, wangxian, major character death, underage, madoka magica au, modern w/ magic, time travel, high school au, body horror, self-harm, angst w/ bittersweet ending, time loop, mental instability, suicidal thoughts) incredible madoka magical au

🧡🔒 Night of the Living History (an edutainment special!) by Aerlalaith (T, 51k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Workplace Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Museums, living history, Some Plot, Slice of Life, Injury, a minor haunting) living cultivation history museum au

🧡 A Knight in Shining Armor by thievinghippo (G, 6k, WangXian, Modern AU, Single Parent WWX, Fluff, Meet-Cute)

Falling to the Rhythm by Selenay (E, 128k, WangXian, Modern: No Powers, Dance, Strictly Come Dancing Fusion, Ballroom Dancing, Dancer!WWX, Violinist LWJ, Pining While Dancing, Oblivious WWX, Gratuitous Costume Descriptions, Gratuitous dancing descriptions, Slow Burn, [Podfic] Falling to the Rhythm by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona))

Covered in Bees by ScarlettStorm (T, 8k, WangXian,Modern AU, Beekeeping AU, Meet-Cute, Comedy, Fluff, Bees)

🔒some things go forward by everythingispoetry (T, 73k, WangXian, Modern AU, Hospitals, Teenage Drama, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending)

Wei Wuxian’s Home for Lost Creatures by Stratisphyre (G, 22k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Fusion, Fluff, Single Dad LWJ, Near Drowning, injured animals, First Meetings, Falling In Love)

as if you were a mythical thing by daltoneering (M, 17k, WangXian, Historical, Science Fiction, Magical Realism, Steampunk, Getting Together, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, WWX Master of Clocks)

🧡 Yiling Salon: Hair, Nails and Piercing by TriviasFolly (T, 22k, WangXian, Modern AU, hairstylist AU, WWX owns a salon, Hairstylist WWX, 5+1 Things, Fluff, Experimental Style)

C’est toi pour moi by eatmyass (T, 49k, WangXian, Jab We Met AU, Modern AU, Strangers to Lovers, travelling, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Fluff, Slow Burn, Pining, POV LWJ, Endgame WangXian, All Is Not As It Seems, No cheating whatsoever!, Paris: the city of hate)

🧡 don’t threaten me with a good time by livinginaworldofnoise (G, 60k, WangXian, Modern AU, Great British bake off AU, Script format, Fluff and Crack, Reality TV, Social media)

Welcome to the Great Gusu Bake Off! series by BlackWiresOnHerHead (G, 59k, Modern, College/University AU, The Great British Bake Off AU, Humor)

💖 Pentimento. by orange_crushed (E, 73k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, art conservation, museums, pining, not actually unrequited love, angst w/ happy ending, misunderstandings, smut, major character injury, hospitalization, hurt/comfort, past incarceration, forgery)

always on my mind series by sami (E, 41k, wangxian, LWJ/Others, LWJ & JYL, Modern, references to past LWJ/others, references to past WWX/WQ, Family, Sexual Tension set in the early 90s, Grief, Erratic Gay Superstar Musician LWJ, life is what happens in the in between, Fluff, Children, Pregnancy, not mpreg, Parenthood, Music Videos, LWJ's Gremlin Tendencies, WWX's Gremlin Tendencies, Drag, Daytime Television, Bitches Get Things Done, fictional daytime talk shows, Q&A, Slice of Life, Awards shows, any resemblance between OCs and real people living or dead are coincidental I swear, Communication, and how LWJ is bad at it, LWJ's weirdly wholesome kink inclinations, LWJ's aggressively artistic musical career, References to Major Character Death, Celebrity stuff, Superstar musican LWJ)

🧡 I Don't Want to Debut! by countingcr0ws (G, 56k, wangxian, Modern, Reality Show, Idols, Celebrity, Social Media, Epistolary, Romance, Fluff, Footnotes, Kissing, Poetry, Podfic Available)

You're Home, I'm Home by Pip (Moirail) (E, 8k, WangXian, Modern AU, Ice Skating, Olympics, Falling In Love, Anal Sex, Rimming, Unsafe Sex, Creampie, Ice skater LWJ, Hockey player WWX)

down by the water by astrolesbian (E, 60k, WangXian, Slow Burn, Modern AU, Friends to Lovers, Surfer LWJ, Surfer WWX, Loneliness, complicated family relationships, mention of drowning, but no actual drowning is described, fluff and smut and angst, Reconciliation)

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14. itmf fics set during the cloud recesses study arc, with wwx and lwj exploring their sexualities with each other... basically having sex which is underage, but wholeheartedly consensual and wholesome. just the vibes being them excited cause they really like each other but its their first times, so they want to be careful. bottom!lwj preferred, or with neither topping or bottoming.

~*~

15. itmf lwj being held hostage or used as blackmail

Alter by Solmae (E, 162k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Drama & Romance, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Rape/Non-con Elements, Gang Rape, Forced Prostitution, PTSD, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, Explicit Sexual Content, Sexual Slavery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Torture) (link in #5) Alter works for this request as well since LWJ is being held prisoner to ensure LXC's good behaviour

the field meets the wood by astronicht (T, 7k, WangXian, BAMF WWX, slight whump, Ritualistic Self Harm, Canon Era, Tang Dynasty style, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, salt economics, Post-Canon, [Podfic] the field meets the wood by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona), [podfic] the field meets the wood by jellyfishfire)

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16. Hey, here after a long time. Hope you guys are doing well.

ITMF everyone simping over Wei WuXian. Something like Touch That Body, (It's Not Mine) @tinyfoxpeach

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17. heyy there thanks for your hard work! do you have any fic recs on wangixan post canon married life that's basically fluff? or any fics that wwx is injured or sick and lwj gets worried, protective and looks after him? thanks in advance! :) @aquiver-heart

small mercies by mellowflicker (E, 11k, WangXian, Post-Canon Fix-It, as in wwx doesn't walk away but stays to take care of his zhanzhan, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Getting Together, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Switching)

the lives of birds by bleuett (E, 15k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Domestic Fluff, Gardens & Gardening, Fluff and Humor, Family Feels, Established Relationship, Anal Sex, Rimming, Blow Jobs)

As You Like It by cosmicmilktea (T, 8k, WangXian, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Tea, Finding out preferences, Childhood Memories, Yunmeng trio feels, child rearing, Post-Canon, Very Very Light Angst, Fluff) Such lovely married wangxian. Wwx researching and helping lwj learn what is to his taste (literally, as in tea and food)

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[cactusisconfused]

My brain has yet again made another thought, enjoy.

-

Ghost had heard of day of the dead before, of course, he has. He’d not practiced it, nor thought anything of it really. Wasn’t exactly a man for traditions.

That thought hadn’t really changed until he was sitting in Mexico for his then second time.

Graves had betrayed them, the bastard, and now Soap is who knows where with who knows what injury. On instinct Ghost slips into the darkness, footsteps making no sound and the necks of the shadows split by his knife before sound could arise.

As Ghost moves, waiting patiently to hear something from Soap does he take a moment to pause and look around. It’s late October, Las Alma’s clearly beginning to set up its decor and altars for day of the dead. He slips into a small house he’s found a moment of refuge in. Thats when he sees the alter, a small thing may it be.

There’s a few frames holding pictures of different people, black and white photos, saturated and grainy photos and recent ones. Some of them are of a child, an older lady and man. A cat with a bow tie.

Surrounding the photos are bright orange marigolds. Somewhere, in Simon’s buried memories does he hear his mother from his youth. She had loved marigolds. Loved the color, the shape. He hadn’t realized he had forgotten. Isn’t sure how to feel about forgetting.

Ghost didn’t look for long though, despite the thoughts surrounding his head. He had to keep moving and ensure Johnny got out of all this alive once he finally radioed back.

The thoughts of the altar and marigolds leave his mind for that time being and don’t resurface for a long while later.

.

He and Johnny had gotten into a relationships one unlike the other had ever had and never once would they trade it for anyone else.

It’s when they’re on leave, walking down a street in Edinburgh when Simon peeps a small flower shop, marigolds on display.

He hadn’t meant to stop, truly he didn’t. But his brain could only conjure up his mother’s face and then, for the first time in years, that altar back in Las Almas.

Johnny of course clocks Simon’s sudden stop and his lingering gaze on the folded orange flowers.

“Ye wanna go in there, Si?” Johnny asks quietly, his thumb rubbing the Brit’s hand as they hold each other’s. Simon shakes his head, forcing his eyes away.

“I’m alright.” Johnny can see there’s more than Simon is letting on, but he gives a soft smile regardless and nods. They begin continue their walk, Soap making sure to remember the shop.

.

A few days pass, the autumn wind has truly kicked in as October comes closer to its end. Simon had gone to the gym, Johnny staying home, saying he had ‘things to do’ which awarded the Scot with a raised eyebrow.

When Simon comes back home, he finds the dining room table set with dinner, the lights dimmed and a vase of marigolds sitting on display.

“I saw you looking at them the other day, figured you might like them.” Johnny says with a slightly nervous smile. Simon can’t help but let out a small huff of a laugh, something made out of pure adoration. God Simon loved his boyfriend.

It’s after they eat, now settled on the couch resting in each other’s arms, does Simon formulate the thoughts that have refused to take shape in his head for so long.

“You know of day of the dead?” Simon asks softly, his hand combing through Johnny’s outgrown Mohawk. The Scot mods with an “aye, I have.”

“I was thinking…” Simon starts, his eyes moving to the vase sitting in the table. “We could set up an altar.” Simon says with an unsure lilt to his voice. While Simon hadn’t really participated in traditions in his life, but this one, for some reason bought his attention. He’d never been spiritual, or believed in ghosts or the paranormal- but this thought, to guide your loved ones back home, to spend a holiday celebrating death rather than letting its embrace feel like a freezing grip held like a vice in his mind.

Johnny the ever living man agreed with a level of adoration in his eyes that Simon had to look away. On the eve of Día de Muertos they set the altar together. Setting photos of Simon’s family, all except his bastard if a father and some photos is Johnny’s gone relatives. They lay the marigolds around the altar as well as lighting candles and laying out foods from both their origins and a few hispanic dishes to honor the culture itself.

There’s no great party really, but they sit close together on the couch, stories being told of each face framed with the orange petals. Simon feels closer to those he had loved- still loves than he had in a very long time.

-

This was a lot longer than I had planned. Also is this incredibly late to day of the dead? Yeah, my apologies but I had the thought like- an hour ago.

This, I will be blatantly honest, I projected on. I myself really wish to follow this tradition next year and quite honestly could see Simon following it too.

Anyway I’m gonna go pass out o7

[eowynstwin]

I love how you write and view COD in general, so let’s hear some Ghost hcs

Slightly NSFW.

He’s got more tattoos—his legs have a lot, and he’s got a back piece he’s working on. They’re all black and white, he doesn’t like color tattoos.

On that note though, he learned how to stick and poke as a teenager, and now as an adult he’s actually very good at it. He touches up his own tattoos, and if you’re one of his people he’ll give you any kind of ink you like, as long as you don’t ask for anything other than black ink lol

On the topic of body mods, his dick is pierced. He’s got a Jacob’s ladder. He got it a little before he was recruited into the 141—it was kind of an exercise in seeing if the pain would make him feel anything. It didn’t. (He discovered its popularity in the bedroom later.)

He owns like ten of the same black shirt and jeans. This man is NOT fashion-forward. But you will never catch him in cargo shorts. Even he isn’t that uncool. It turns out he dresses well—if always casually—just by virtue of not making his clothing choices complicated.

So, it’s almost certain he made his skull plate mask, right? Which means he’s got some familiarity with needle and thread. I think Ghost, more than once, has popped a seam in his pants or his shirt, because he’s a BIG boy. And he was raised in poverty, so no fucking way is he going to just buy new ones. So he mends his own clothes. His stitches are rarely pretty, but they’re always solid.

He’s actually a big fix-it guy overall. It’s a byproduct of growing up poor—you don’t waste money on something new if the old thing just needs a part replaced. If something stops working, he takes it apart, figures out what’s wrong, and puts it back together. He’s very efficient about it too—those projects take a day at most. He hates a mess.

As a result, if you’ve been fucking him on the regular (because remember, Ghost doesn’t date), he starts making note of little projects he could get into at your place. Cracks in the wall he could spackle. A door that scrapes at the jamb when you close it that he could rebalance. A coffee maker that takes forever to brew that he could clean out. If you let him do any of these projects, you’re never getting rid of him. (And with the Jacob’s ladder why would you honestly want to?)

I think the psychological functions of these projects are an exercise in trying to fix something to make up for what he can no longer fix. He failed a lot of people—primarily his family. Maybe if he can make your car stop making weird noises when it turns, he’s redeemed a tiny cut of the massive debt he owes to the dead. He does not think like this, I can’t stress enough. It is not a conscious process. But it doesn’t change the tiny relief he feels at making a broken thing work again.

If you ever point out that making broken things work again is kind of exactly the function of the Ghost persona, he’ll disappear for several months.

But he’ll come back. You’ll have to yank an apology out of his teeth, but you can get one out of him if you’re honest enough about how fucking horrible you felt when he left without a word. He felt horrible when he was gone, too. You just scared him, with how you cut to the very crux of who and why he is. That kind of vulnerability is a horror Ghost doesn’t know how to face.

But he stays with you for a long while, longer than he ever has, after he comes back.

[cookiescribble]

Flufftober Day 21: Bonfire

(gif source)

A/N: hi, post con ghost is here to provide you with your next fic live from his bed lol. hope y’all have been enjoying everything thus far!- mod ghost 

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x GN!Reader

Summary: Winding down with not only the party, but Astarion 

After a particularly long day of adventuring, settling in at camp always seemed to make any and all problems melt away. Tonight was no different, however, as you and your companions got yourselves comfortable for the night. There wasn’t quite anything like sitting around a campfire with a group of the people you were closest to in the world, whether you were connected by mindflayer parasites or not.

Gale, being the self-assigned camp cook, made a hearty stew from all of the various things you’d foraged throughout the day which was honestly the best any of you’d eaten in weeks. He was a good cook, and you felt guilty that he had to work with such measly ingredients most of the time, but he had signed up to do it so voluntarily that you assure yourself he doesn’t mind as much as you think he might.

So now, you sat on the ground with a warm bowl in your lap and your friends around you but before you could wonder what you might be missing, you felt a hand gently landing at the small of your back with warm breath ghosting over your ear.

“Miss me, darling?” You heard a familiar voice whisper before you see Astarion sat down beside you.

“Always, my love. Where were you?” You asked softly, his hand gently coming to rest on your thigh as the two of you spoke.

“Never mind that just now, hm? We can talk more about it later, when there’s less of an…audience.” He glanced around the fire, his ears twitching much like some of the cats you’ve seen in the lower city.

“Is it that much of a secret?” You chuckled as you watched him practically hiss at the thought of company. No matter how he seemed to dislike all of your friends, you knew that he truly did care about them.

“Do the lovebirds wanna share what they’re whispering about with the rest of the class?” Karlach yelled from across the fire, making Shadowheart laugh which you couldn’t remember seeing her do before. You feel Astarion tense next to you, showing vulnerability being something he was still incredibly new to.

Before he could speak, you answered loudly, “I dunno, do they?” You saying that made both girls blush in the dim light of the campfire as Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Lae’zel, and Minthara suddenly quieted to also listen to the conversation. Everyone in this camp was a sucker for gossip, you swear. When the roar of conversation around you resumed, Astarion smirked as he leaned in close to you again, “I’m impressed, darling, I must be rubbing off on you”

“Or you’re just bringing out a side of me that was already there.” You returned his smug energy, crossing your arms and leaning into his side as his arm settled easily over your shoulder. No one was paying much attention to either of you anymore, which made it easier for him to be soft with you. Showing any kind of PDA this genuinely felt awkward and stilted for him at times as he was still getting used to someone caring about him this deeply, but it was easier when he was mostly shrouded in shadow or when the rest of the party were wrapped up in other things.

One by one, each of your friends excused themselves to one tent or another and the fire dulled down to a quiet roar compared to what it once was, leaving you and Astarion under the stars together once again.

Speaking of the stars, Astarion was currently staring up at them, watching the night sky as if something was about to fall from it. You didn’t say anything at first, not wanting to disturb him. He had an almost childlike wonder to him right now, watching the stars glint and shine from however many millions of miles away they were. Though, he could seemingly feel your eyes on him, since he stopped only a moment or two later.

“Apologies, I–”

You gently put your finger to his lips, shaking your head, “You don’t have to apologize, the stars are amazing. I want you to be able to love the beauty of the dark as well as the majesty of daylight.” You whisper, resting your head on his shoulder as you add a little more fuel to the fire to keep the two of you warm. For once, Astarion didn’t argue, he just tilted his head back up toward the sky and continued to stargaze. You, however, watched him more than you watched the stars, admiring how the light of the moon mixed with the fire’s glow on his face to make his face look like a masterpiece.

“Do you think I’ll be able to walk in the sun without the power of the parasite again?” Astarion whispered, his voice almost broken and pained.

“I’d like to think so, but I don’t want to promise you something I’m unsure I can give you. We will find a way for you to thrive in this life again, though. You can trust me on that.” You slipped your hand in his as you spoke, giving it a gentle squeeze. He silently nodded, watching the sky as if he was staring through the darkness straight to the gods and begging them to give him a second chance at living.

The rest of the night was spent in mostly silence, sitting by the fire as it slowly died out and you giving him silent comfort mainly just by being there. You eventually fell asleep together, laying under the blanket of fiery stars above you in each other's arms.

[kandisheek]

Cap-Ironman Rec Week 2024

Cap-IM Sunday: July 28th

Prompt: Rec all your favorite works created for one of the Cap-IronMan challenges!

Finishing this week with a bang, here are some of my favorite fics that came about due to the tireless work that the mods over at Cap-IM do for us every year. Please take the time to browse their collections as well, because the talent in this fandom is out of this world:

-- Never Too Late for Love by Sineala

Steve has always believed that a soulbond is a blessing -- a rare and beautiful miracle, joining the thoughts and feelings of two people forever, from the first time they touch. Steve knows he's not going to be one of the lucky ones. He knows Gail isn't his soulmate. But he loves her, even if they're not soulmates, and he's going to do right by her. After the war's over, he's going to marry her, and they're going to settle down. They'll buy a house. They'll have children. He'll see his family again. Maybe Bucky will live next door. It's going to be a good life. He doesn't need a soulbond. He'll be fine without one. Then Steve wakes up sixty years in the future to find that his wonderful life has moved on without him. His family is long dead. His fiancée married his best friend. And the only purpose he has left is leading the Ultimates, a misbegotten team of superheroes with flaws too numerous to count. Steve hates everything about the future -- but most of all he detests Tony, flashy and flirtatious, who embodies everything Steve hates about a world he never wanted to live in. And, oh, yeah, Steve has a soulmate after all: Tony fucking Stark.

-- The Heart of the Temple by CSHfic, VSfic

After an expedition to find an ancient relic goes awry, Tony finds himself magically bound to a Roman soldier who has spent the last two thousand years guarding the temple, and who is now bound to protect him from harm. Stranger things have certainly happened, but Tony is having a hard time coming up with them now.

-- Therapeutic Guidelines by kellifer_fic

"Are you suggesting I get a bunch of bunk beds in here and squeeze us all into one room?" Tony scoffs and the woman just looks at him. "No, wait-"

MORE RECS BELOW THE CUT:

-- A Long, Lonely Time by asktheravens

Steve returned from the war injured in body and mind- and able to see the dead. At loose ends and desperate to get out of New York City, he accepts a fellowship through the Stark Foundation and retreats to a quiet lake house on the grounds of the Stark Mansion. He's supposed to be there to paint, but he quickly realizes that the house is more than he bargained for. Anthony Stark died here a decade ago, but was it an accident? A suicide? Or a murder? Obadiah Stane still lives in the main house just up the hill, and the past casts a long shadow. When Tony's ghost begins appearing to him, Steve becomes more entwined in the dangerous mystery surrounding his death. Even worse, he finds himself falling for a man who died a decade ago... Features lots of ghosts, murder, secrets, and supernatural revenge. Also Thor and Rhodey.

-- Personal Use by dirigibleplumbing

“It’s for. Personal use,” Steve says. Tony deserves a fucking medal for not commenting on that. Fuck, how is he supposed to get anything done after this? Or ever, for that matter. Every time he suits up he’ll know—he’ll know—that Steve Rogers fucks himself with a toy made out of Tony’s armor.

-- On Camera by FestiveFerret

Steve's heart skipped a beat. It was beyond ridiculous to get attached to one of his regular clients but somehow, over the last six months, he had. StarkNakedGenius wasn't logged on for every show, far from it, but he was on for a lot of them, and whenever he was, he tipped like mad.

-- Weighing of the Heart by scifigrl47

Steve Rogers hasn't really had a particularly easy life. He's struggled along, he's proud of himself, he's self-sufficient and capable and he works damn hard. He has friends and a purpose and he's only a few semesters from graduating college. He's managed, but his life has been far from easy. That's mostly because of a slight filing error. The last thing that Steve needed was someone to watch over him. The only thing that his Guardian Angel needs is a second chance to make a first impression.

-- Can't start a fire without a spark by gottalovev

The Avengers might be reunited, but they are holding together with a Band-Aid and a severe case of Tony pretending nothing happened. The superficial truce is shattered the day Steve takes control of Tony's suit and forces him to go to medical in a tense situation. When Tony is ordered to take a vacation, Steve volunteers to go with him.

And two of my own fics:

-- Gift of Consequence

Steve remembers the old wives' tale of the dragon in the mountain, sleeping on a pile of gold. He has never paid it any mind, but when his mother gets sick and time and money is of the essence... he might reconsider believing in fairytales.

-- We Are Briefly Gorgeous

Tony finds himself in a gay bar right after signing his divorce papers, drowning his sorrows. Turns out the handsome stranger that chats him up is just the distraction he needs.

[oscconfessions]

do all the mods confessiony-sonas have different personalities/lore/other stuff? the designs are all really cool and I wanna know more about them :3

Paradox/Posy (or Catalog when they were alive) is from The Nightly Manor! They were alive before sketchpad's appearance and actually died bc of his arrival.

Paradox was your standard librarian, but they also were an mad/evil scientist on the side. Think Doofenshmirtz, comically bad at being evil. Literally no one knew about the deeds they wanted to accomplish.

I'm not sure about the other confessionysonas' lore, but! Thats mine at least.

-🗄️

Boom was a stick of dynamite from the TTR-verse who exploded and perma-died after TARDIS uh.. well, disabled all recovery centers. They were always called Boom, but after death immediately took the chance to change their appearance to what they are now (the explosion, rather than the dynamite, with goatlike features)!

They mostly wanted to change their appearance so people wouldn't figure out what universe they were from, or have no association with it. They have absolutely no love for TARDIS, and has no idea if they're Plot-relevant or even able to be found that way, but they do NOT want to risk it in any way.

They also don't want to get recovered anymore- they kind of like being a ghost!

When they were alive though they were mostly just a normal guy who was a fan of Twisted Turns and tried to get into the reboot once lmao.

-💥 cog comes from a world of what you would call a "dystopian super-technological future", and is one of the lead developers and lead AI/machine learning engineers. long story short AI, robots and what have you took over and killed off most of the universe, the first victim being the object who gave them life! with practically no one left on their universe, there is nobody to recover them, so... yeah, they're just a ghost now. fun fact, the inside of my confessiony-sona is actually cogs office, where they were killed :D - ⚙️

oh i'm a bit late... well! olive(r) is from the ii universe. this is stolen directly from my normal objectsona/selfship lore (democracy decided olipad is canon so i dont feel bad) lol. he is not mephone generated btw! i actually had to do a bit of rewriting because of ii 16 and decided that the rest of the production crew he worked with was generated but him? he simply got a bit lost. and well, long story i've barely written short, he Died. Badly.

now he spends his afterlife doing stereotypical ghost shit, you know standing at the end of hallways and whispering in earshot of the living. just freaking people out. he finds it hilarious.

he wants to go back, but he's accepted that he's just a ghost now. So he's trying to help out confessiony and comicy with this whole "oscc" thing.

-🫒

[aziraphales-library]

love this blog sm, thank you for your work :)

Got any reunion fics, of them being reunited after being worried about each other. Everything under reunion tags seem to be break-up related and I'm looking for more of a hurt/comfort thing

You might be interested in our #kidnapping tag, as those fics often include separation, worry, and hurt/comfort. Here are some non-break up reunion fics...

Quietude by actualchangeling (G)

When the weight of the world had become too much to bear, Crowley had reached out for the comforts of sleep. Now, a year later, coming home to the one being he has ever considered family, he discovers it is easier to share it than to escape it.

Someday I'm Gonna Be Free, Lord by MnemonicMadness (T)

“How have you… whiled away the last two years?” He supposes it is a better conversational starter than Still a demon, then?, if only slightly. The silence shaped to fit where the words my dear might ordinarily go somehow feels even quieter. “Oh, uh, uhm… Yeah, whiling, it’s been a while, lots of… you know. Wiles. A very wily while. You know how it is.” “Yes, quite.” He hesitates, rethinking his answer. “Well, no, wiles aren’t really my department. Blessings, though, and a miracle here and there. It’s been rather peaceful.” Lonely, he doesn’t say. - A tale of love, Love, ineffability, and loopholes.

Lost and Found by Nadare (T)

When Aziraphale is late for a date, Crowley instantly knows he's in trouble. His journey to find Aziraphale will take him to old and new places, as well as reveal what's truly important in the end.

I Jump Off And Into Your Arms But I Can't Trust The Fall by adashofblue (T)

Excerpt from fic: "Akin to a snap of one’s fingers, the world the angel had come to know; his tidy little bookshop and home - was gone, and replaced by a blinding light." Or, Aziraphale falls. Will he be able to escape Hell and return to his husband?

Be My Light by fractalgeometry (T)

Aziraphale has a headache. Heaven has a vendetta. Crowley is very not okay with his angel disappearing without warning. Neither he nor Aziraphale like the dark, or the idea of spending unknown amounts of time away from Earth against their will. Clearly, they have to get back to normal. The problem is, how?

My Favorite Ghost by DiminishingReturns (T)

Decades after the world didn’t end, Heaven and Hell got their war — and nearly destroyed everything in the process. When Aziraphale finally manages to reacquire a corporation and return to Earth, he discovers he was gone longer than he thought and the planet has become unrecognizable. As he searches for Crowley and tries to figure out how he fits in a world that Heaven, Hell, and God have all wiped their hands of, nature works around him to reclaim the bones of an old civilization as the scraps of humanity build a new one. A lush and optimistic post-apocalypse story, told from the POV of an immortal who can't let go of the past.

- Mod D