#and the side story of leons search to find them

[twistedapple624]

Idea for an alternate ending:

Merlin gets Arthur to the lake in time and manage to save him.

They spend the night by the lake just talking, like they have been for the past few days, and realise that neither of them is ready to return to Camelot. For various reasons. They decide to take to the roads instead, just disappear, together.

Eventually their (few remaining) friends start to worry and the queen sends out her knights searching for them. Maybe Gaius points them towards the lake and maybe the knights find a neat pile of Arthurs belongings nearby, like his armour and cape (To heavy to carry and to easy to identify) and just assumes the worst. They knew Arthur was injured, and now presumably dead, but where is Merlin? Perhaps the grief was just to much for him? Perhaps he went home? But Hunith hasn't seen him either.

They are both gone. And life moves on.

Until a few months later when rumors start reaching the castle, about two heroes helping people throughout the realm. A fighter and a sorcerer working together using their skills to take out different threats from low life bandits to magical creatures attacking people.

No one really suspects anythingat first, but Gwen sends out her knights to find these two heroes. To confirm the rumors and if so offer a reward for their bravery. And maybe see if they would be willing to join forces?

It's not until Sir Leon hears a description of the two that he start to wonder.. A blond sword fighter with blue eyes and a regal nose who talks like a noble? A dark haired sorcerer also with blue eyes and a wide infectious smile? And they are constantly bickering and insulting each other? It couldn't be? Could it?

Trying not to get his hopes up Leon still doubles the search efforts.

No matter what they do though the knights seems to always be one step behind the two. Always gone before the knights reach the village or town they just saved. Missed them by a few days, a few hours down to mere minutes.

Somewhere along the way Leon hears about The Kiss. Told by an eye witness who saw the blond grab the warlock by the front of his tunic, haul him in and kiss him fiercely for almost getting himself killed (again, the idiot <- Arthurs note).

And suddenly things are making alot more sense. Why they never came back. Why they are staying away and don't want to be found.

He never tells Gwen. Or anyone. But that is the day Leon starts pulling back, cutting down on the search. Telling everyone it's not worth it, it has been over a year ( several years?) and there are more important things for the knights of Camelot to do then chasing ghosts. It's better if people start moving on with their lives instead. They are not coming back.

An undecided amount of time later Leon finds himself drinking alone in some random tavern in some random town, in an unknown part of the kingdom. When two cloaked strangers sit down uninvited at his table. And as he looks up their hoods fall back to reveal two very familiar and very dear faces.

Merlin grins widely. 'We heard you were looking for us?'

[thevelvetvampyre]

Pink lace - Raymond Leon x stepdaughter reader

Summary: Raymond finds his stepdaughters lacy thong and has a *hard* time accepting how much she’s grown.

Warnings: angry sex, face fucking, age gap, slight incest, he’s aggressive😍, squirting, ROUGH, p in v , small sprinkle of ‘daddy’ and ‘little girl’ but not much, general adult content and smut (one small mention of story line / time as money reference) no context at all basically just porn - no foreplay just basically desperate angry fucking

I feel like this is shit xx

🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒

Tutting as he rummaged around the pile of dirty laundry to find his favourite black pullover, your stepdad Raymond was growing agitated at its lack of presence in the basket.

Flicking the fabric around as his wrist threw countless pieces of material, he internally complained about your mother and her inability to wash his clothes on time.

Useless bitch.

Huffing out as he stopped his search, his eyes remained on the pile as he furrowed his brows at the baby pink that slightly peaked out around the surrounding darkness.

Blinking at the pop of colour for a few seconds before reaching in and pulling the fabric out, his eyes widened as he clenched his jaw at the lacy, soft pair of pink panties in his fingers.

Slightly rotating them in his hand as he continued to pinch around the hip, the vein in his neck protruded as his blood pumped in disgust.

His face heated up and his teeth grated, ignoring his hardening cock pull at his core as he analysed how slutty the panties were, how pathetically thin the material was and how the size of them were a lame excuse for underwear.

Knowing they didn’t belong to your mother as she stopped making an effort to arouse him way too long ago, he swelled under his waistband as he pictured your young, tight body in nothing but the soft lace he held in his fingers.

His anger flushed across his skin as he thought he raised you better than this, better than an easy whore who wore close to nothing to cover her cunt under her clothes.

Clenching his jaw painfully shut and fisting a ball around your panties, he turned around and stormed through the hallway to your bedroom.

“What do you call these?”

The door swung open and his voice boomed through your walls, shooting your head up in fright as his intrusion into your room was aggressive and heart pounding.

Looking up at him, he stood proud with your panties dangling in the air and your cheeks flushed a warm red, embarrassed that your stepfather was showing you your own underwear and questioning your choice of undergarment.

“A thong? Really? I didn’t raise you to be a whore!”

He dropped his hand and furrowed his brows at you, shaking his head in disbelief as you sat on your bed hoping the sheets would suck you whole.

“Why are you touching them!”

You blurred out, your voice louder than what you had intended.

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me…”

He held his finger up and you pouted at his tone.

“If your mother wasn’t such a useless wife I wouldn’t of found these.”

He spat through his teeth and spoke his words like venom, a strong vibration of hatred bouncing off of him as he spoke.

“I’m a grown woman! I can wear whatever-“

You crossed your arms as you defended your clothing choices, wishing he’d just drop it and leave you alone as per normal.

“Yeah? You’re a grown woman huh?”

He spoke sarcastically and waved his hands to his sides in unison to his words, mocking and belittling you in your own room.

“Yes! I can wear whatever I want.”

You stated yourself obviously, his face cringing in disgust at your proud words.

“Grown enough to dress like a slut?”

Your cheeks deepened with his words, thrown off guard by his explicit language.

“Grown enough to be wearing practically nothing around your cunt?”

He started walking closer to your bed, your core heating up as you’d never seen him so seething before.

Covering your ears in response to his filthy words, he held your panties up in front of him and cocked his brows in irritability to your lack of responses.

“Stop! Please… stop.”

You squeezed your eyes yet felt your cunt pool in your shorts, a confusing mix of arousal and humiliation to his harsh words.

“Disgusting.”

He threw your panties onto your bed and you snatched them, removing them from his sight in hopes he would soon leave your room after making his point so clear.

Unfortunately, he turned to your dresser, stomping down as he ripped open the top drawer and widened his eyes at the array of lace, pink and white that coated the base of the wood.

“What’s this?”

His words were sharp as he pulled out a white corset.

“Fuck… what’s this?”

His words sobbed, now pulling out a sparkly pink bra your mother got you when you turned 16.

He continued to rip out items of lingerie as his face pulled into a more disgusted look than it was a few seconds prior, contradicting his leaking, pulsating tip at just how soft and plush your lace was.

You watched as your expensive panties and bras were chucked onto the floor, the humiliation stinging your chest as with each piece he pulled, the angrier he seemed to become.

“Oh my god… stop!”

You screeched at him. He stopped instantly but remained paused in his position for a couple of seconds before dropping his hands slowly off your drawer and turning his neck onto you.

His hair was falling in his face and his cheeks were flushed, his irritation proving apparent on the cringed look on his face.

“Is this what you wanted?”

His voice was soft and quiet now, pulling your back up straight as it jarred you to see him so emotional.

He was never not emotional, just he didn’t have a good relationship with your mother anymore. Fuck, did anyone? She hadn’t even been home for the past few days, unsure of her whereabouts created tension between you and your stepfather that you didn’t dare address or talk about.

“Is what what I wanted?”

You spoke through exasperated words, tired of his fickle mood and unnecessary anger.

“This…?”

He turned around and walked fiercely towards you, reaching down to his crotch and grabbing his thick, throbbing cock.

“Is this what you wanted?”

He walked over to the side of your bed, pulling you by your hair to sit on the edge and grasping your scalp violently as he shook you to his words.

“To see your step daddy’s hard cock in your face?”

He held you inches away from his groin, his fingers wrapping around his painfully obvious veiny shaft. Your cunt dripped at how deliciously huge he was, feeling his heat so close to your face made you burn an internally feral heat to your core.

“N-no.”

You muttered out, licking your lips as they swelled and your face heated with arousal.

He groaned a throaty growl as his fingers pressed further into your scalp. Panting slowly as he felt his cock grow angry in impatience.

“Fix it.”

He spoke through his teeth, shaking your scalp to bring you closer to his erection.

Moving as fast as you could as soon as he gave you the green light, your delicate fingers worked on his zip and shook his jeans down, watching as they pooled at his ankles and biting your lower lip in anticipation.

Pawing desperately at his piping hot, clothed cock he groaned and rolled his head back, his eyes rolling with his neck and his jaw clenching in an attempt to hide his animalistic groans to your soft touch.

Feeling at his erection through the cotton of his underwear, your cunt was leaking onto your bed sheets as you had waited so long to finally feel him.

Ripping his waistband away from his hips, his massive, needy cock sprung out and landed close to your face, a squeak leaving your lips as he looked even bigger free than he did behind the prison of his underwear.

Opening your mouth slightly to take his salty, pre cum covered tip in your mouth, he swung his head down and furrowed his brows as his jaw dropped at how cute you looked with your stepfathers cock on your lips.

“Oh fuck… suck your daddy’s cock.”

He mumbled through a groan, listening to his instructions you took a couple of inches of him into your mouth.

Just after his tip was wrapped in your wet lips through your delicate, soft sucks, he gripped tighter at the back of your head and snapped his hips forward.

His balls were on your chin and you gagged around the size of him, your nose on his pubic area as your eyes swelled and you sobbed out through your nose.

You squirmed beneath him as an acid kicked in your chest, his huge cock breaching your neck and suffocating you as he groaned at how tight your throat was.

“Oh baby…”

He pulled his hips out and flexed at the string of spit that followed, his brows knitting tighter together and his breath leaving his lungs.

“Fuck!”

He winced, snapping his hips forward once again and slamming his tip well past your tonsils.

Grunting at the feeling your mouth around him, he continued to grasp at your hair till your scalp stung as he fucked your throat violently, snapping his hips forward in a painful force and dragging his cock out even faster.

You began suffocating as your eyes poured with pained tears and your palms rested on his upper thighs.

Your plush room was filled with sounds of you gagging, sobbing and his groans. Your spit began to pour outside your mouth, dripping liquid out your cunt and mouth simultaneously.

“Look at you go little girl…”

He grunted through quick pants, praising how well your throat was taking his cock as he repeatedly slammed himself into the back of it.

“Taking me so well.”

His voice was possessed with growls.

You thought you may pass out, your eyes rolling at your lack of breath and the sting in your scalp, your nose running and spit pouring as he fucked the hole in your face with no sympathy.

After fucking your mouth for what felt like hours, he dragged his hips out and his pulsating tip bounced in front of your face, glistening with his pre cum and your saliva against your pretty fairylights.

Quickly reaching past you, he lent over and grabbed your panties you attempted to hide from him earlier.

Shoving them in your mouth and as you muffled ‘mhm’ at the taste of yourself, he shoved your shoulders down onto the bed and began stroking his swollen cock at the sight of you whoring yourself out to him.

“Look how fucking easy you are…”

His knees stood strong as he watched over you, your eyes brimming with tears from his violent thrusts and your pussy leaking out onto the bed.

He let go of his cock and hooked his fingers under your shorts, ripping them from your body and groaning at your dripping cunt that glistened beautifully in your room.

“Such a slut.”

He spat his words, your muffled moan leaving a wet spot on the cotton in your mouth.

Dropping his body over yours, his hand fell next to your face as his neck stayed down to watch his tip get soaked by your desperate, leaking cunt.

“Oh yes… soak my fucking cock.”

His voice was low as he dragged his tip along your aching slit, needing his cock to fill you and fuck you till you hurt.

You muffled through the used underwear in your mouth and your brows furrowed, wiggling underneath him to attempt to show him how needy you were for him.

Grasping at one of your hips to keep you still, he grunted angrily and snapped his eyes to yours.

“Don’t be so fucking desperate.”

He spat on your face as he scolded you, your eyes swelling at his words and your core aching impatient for him.

Stroking his tip once more from your clit to your hole, he sunk into your cunt and your back arched at the feeling of him stretching you out.

Dropping his head into the crook of your neck and feeling his groan vibrate into your skin, your eyes swelled as he rolled deeply into your body.

Pulling his palm from the side of you to your mouth, his head remained in your neck as his hand covered your already cotton gagged lips.

Pulling his hips out as you shook at the feeling of his huge cock leaving your tight hole, your pussy swelled around him and clenched as he pushed into you once more.

“So fucking tight princess…”

You felt his legs shake as his hips met yours once again, his cock filling you to your tummy and leaving you fuller than you’d ever felt.

Pulling out and slamming into you once more, his pace fastened as he furiously fucked your tight cunt and moaned in sync to your clenching walls.

Feeling the knot in your groin heat up as your orgasm chased you, he felt your body tense and fucked you in the same spot, hitting the soft point inside of you as your sobs became deafening.

Feeling the heat come undone, you squirted and leaked aggressively against his lower stomach and your walls filled with a loud wet, squelching noise as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.

Convulsing under him, you shook violently as the rush ran over your skin, your stomach sticking to his with each thrust.

“Making such a mess around your daddy’s cock.”

His eyes pulled up to meet yours, admiring the way you looked cock drunk beneath him.

He groaned and his neck fell forward once more, his eyes meeting the back of his head as you fluttered around him.

Tears were pouring out your eyes as you muffled a scream into the cotton, your knuckles turning white from how hard you were grasping at the sheet below you.

Pulling his head up once more to meet your eyes, his face was red and flushed as his eyes were wet and lips moist.

“Let me hear those- oh fuck- pretty moans baby.”

He ripped the cotton out your mouth, a large sigh escaping your lips now that you could finally breath.

You moaned loudly, whining in pain as his cock continued to plough into you unforgivingly.

“Yes- yes… fuck!”

His strokes continued to fuck you as they turned sloppy and weak, his balls tightening as they emptied his cum into the back of your walls.

The sound of you moaning sent him over the edge, spilling his seed into you as you bounced on the bed beneath him.

“God- gonna have you dripping my cum all week.”

His voice was husky as his hips snapped into yours for the last time, holding them close to your skin as you felt his cock flex inside of you.

You watched his face blush and his brows furrowed, a slight sweat glistening over his skin as his lips were swollen and wet as he came hard inside of you.

A choked moan left his lips and his eyes squeezed, a look that could be mistaken for pain is what you would’ve thought he was feeling if he wasn’t shooting his thick, white liquid into the back of your pussy as he did so.

Leaving his softening erection inside of you, he rested his forehead on your chest as he breathed heavily in an attempt to catch his breath.

Your sticky stomach was connected to his and your room filled with the smell of sex and sweat. Grunting, he pulled out of you and rolled next to your panting body.

“Don’t let me catch you with those again…”

He turned his neck to look at you. Your pussy stung against the cold air as his violent thrusts had split you in two.

“Unless if that’s all you’re wearing.”

Suddenly, your mum not being home was a good thing. Laying there as you stared at him next to you, a grin grew on your face as his cum trickled out of you.

[tinyavenuesailor]

Crack Fic! Where Everyone thinks Merlin is the reasonable one.

Everyone loves Merlin and thinks he’s the sweetest person, who couldn’t hurt a fly. So, they’re all annoyed when they see how Arthur treats him. The King is constantly overloading his manservant with work, ordering him to do massive tasks and coming up with ridiculous excuses to keep Merlin from taking a break. So, the knights and others constantly try to find ways to pull Merlin away from Arthur’s side and give him a break but Arthur always finds a way to mess up their plans.

Gwen and the other maids sometimes try to help Merlin with his chores

Gwen: Arthur you can’t actually expect Merlin to clean the entire throne room by himself

Arthur: *shrugs* Yes. I’m hardly asking him much

Gwen: It usually takes five maids to thoroughly clean the throne room. It’s ridiculous to ask one person to do so much work and then, to place Lancelot as a guard to make sure none of us can help him. 

Arthur: Lancelot wouldn’t have to guard anything if you all weren’t so ready to disobey my orders. I said Merlin will clean the throne room ALONE and that is final

Gwen: I never knew you could be such a cruel person and to Merlin of all people

*Gwen storms off*

Gwaine, Leon, Percival, Elyan and some of the other knights try to steal Merlin away to the tavern to relax

Gwaine: Come on Princess. I’m sure you can survive one night without Merlin 

*Gwaine tries to pull Merlin to their side but Arthur grabs hold of Merlin and pulls him back*

Arthur: Need I remind you, Merlin is my manservant and doesn’t have time to play around. He still has very important duties to complete

Elyan: What could he possibly have to do at this time? Most servants have gone home for the day?

Arthur: Well Merlin is the King’s manservant as I keep reminding you and still have very important things to do

Gwaine: Like what?

Arthur: *pauses* For one, he needs to clean the mess he made in the closet

The knights: *trying to process the bullshit Arthur just told them* 

Arthur: *crossing his arms, 100% serious, daring them to challenge him*

Merlin: It’s fine guys really, probably next time *pulling Arthur and himself back into Arthur’s chambers and locking the door*

Or when something terrible happens to Merlin like the time he got kidnapped and everyone went into full panic

Arthur: *staring hard at Lance* Merlin’s been kidnapped?

Elyan: They ambushed us out of nowhere and before we knew it they were off with him.

Leon: Don’t worry sire, I’ll gather a search party immediately to have him found.

Gwaine: We’ll make them sorry they ever thought to mess with our Merlin

Arthur: *holding up a finger and turning to Lance again* Merlin’s been kidnapped?

Lance: ..... That is the story

Gwaine: Princess, have you not been listening. We need to hurry every second counts. 

Arthur: I heard, just wondering why he couldn’t have chosen a better day to get himself kidnapped

*Everyone gawks at Arthur in disbelief*

Basically, everyone thinks that Arthur doesn’t appreciate Merlin and that their cinnamon roll deserves better and formed a protection squad to help Merlin get the treatment he deserves.

Meanwhile in Reality....

Arthur knows about Merlin’s magic. He is fully aware of how powerful Merlin is and finally sees that his manservant isn’t an idiot. He’s just a bloody madman.

===In the throne room=== 

*Arthur and Merlin both staring at a dark purple swirling vortex on the floor*

Arthur: *takes a deep breath* Merlin, why is there a hole in my throne room?

Merlin: Well, it's not a hole. It’s a sort of gateway to the dark dimension.

Arthur: Oh, okay. Why is there a gateway to the dark dimension in my throne room?

Merlin: ..... I can fix it

Lancelot: Arthur, I heard you- *looks down at the menacing purple gateway on the floor and then back to Arthur and Merlin* 

Lancelot: Should I go guard the door?

===After Gwaine, Elyan and Percival tried to take Merlin out for drinks===

Merlin: You know we both could use a break. I am a bit hungry. Been a while since I had a drink too

Arthur: Well maybe, we can join them after you explain why my Uncle is tied up in my closet

*Arthur opens his closet doors revealing a tied-up and gagged Agravaine making muffled noise*

Merlin: You told me to get evidence that he was working with Morgana

Arthur: And your solution to that was to kidnap him?

Merlin: What better way to hear it than from the man himself? 

Arthur: What’s going to happen when people realize he’s missing

Merlin: Don’t worry, one memory wipe spell and he’ll be back tomorrow in his chambers like nothing ever happened

Arthur: You told me those spells were dangerous

Merlin: *laughs* Well, yeah, I’m not using it on us

Agravaine: *making muffled and panicked pleads to Arthur*

Lancelot: Sorry, Arthur, Gaius told me that Merlin needed m- *sees a tied-up Agravaine* 

Lancelot: *nods* I’ll go stand guard

=== Arthur, the first to find Merlin after his “kidnapping” ===

Arthur: *folds his arms and looks behind his manservant to see a trail of bodies* Kidnapped?

Merlin: Well they did try to kidnap me. I just decided not to resist. 

Arthur: *sighs* Is everyone dead?

Merlin: I was supposed to leave someone alive?

Arthur: *rolls his eyes* Come before I have to explain how my “innocent”, “weak” manservant took out a group of mercenaries.

Lancelot: *already standing guard* 

[astracora]

EVER's Tool

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc (Sylus POV/MC POV)

Warnings: Hurt/No Comfort, Angst, Talk of EVER Experiments and Torture, Violence, Gore, Spoilers for multiple anecdotes and all current story.

Word Count: 10348

Written: 10th January 2025

Notes: Established-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. A lil AU almost, set after cat curse and turning point. I had the mental image of EVER making MC into a personal weapon, using the fact their memories reset so it's easier to manipulate them. I also think about the line that 'sincere emotions are hard to forget', and how the LADs are basically EVER's worst problem when it comes to controlling them. As a side note, I fucking hated Leon when I read the anecdotes, so so much. The creepy way of calling a child 'little bomb' just set me wanting him smacked in the face. So I'm channelling that dislike into ruining his day. The way I screenshotted so many main story things to pull into this. It's upsetting... I had to double check so much stuff cause I have a terrible memory. My final lil note is I have no idea how MC's resonance works, but there was a line in one of the anecdotes that EVER wanted it to absorb Xavier's, so I've run with the concept.) I have no idea if anyone else will care about this lil brain thread, but hey, have at ye. Will there be more? Gods only know. Now I can finally sleep its 2am and my brain refused to let me rest.

Now Playing: Bite Marks, by League of Legends (ft TEYA)

Masterlist AO3

Next ->

Missing for months now… He's reached out to every source he can find. Has sent Mephisto all over Linkon, the N109 Zone, beyond.

He has looked in every shadow, every dark hole he can find. He has searched and searched, and still found no trace of you. He has never felt this powerless, this lost, to have all the resources of Onychinus and still unable to find answers to the only question he really cares to have answered.

How can you have disappeared? Vanished on him, on them, when you have built a life together? The house has emptied, the halls are quieter, the bedroom you all share is hard to sleep in.

It is like they have acquired ghosts. Griefs that will not rest, that cannot settle… because they have no answers. No response, no way to seek you out to soothe open wounds, and apply salve to scars.

He cannot stop, he cannot stop looking. He looked for you through time, and space, he will not stop now.

If you are out there, he will find you, and bring you back home. To them.

He did not vow and share his soul with you, to lose you.

He has spent most of his days looking, and searching. When he is not forcing himself to keep being Onychinus' leader, he barely sleeps for investigating. If he stops for a moment he thinks of an empty bed, and cold sheets. Of limbs no longer tangled with his. Of fingers no longer soothing through his hair.

Sylus cannot bring himself to tremble and to crumble, he does not have time. Not when the answer has fractured his home. His loved ones.

He watches Xavier hunt, carry out his job. Kill and fight. Mindless and driven, because he wants to protect the Linkon you cared about too. He wants to keep his blade busy, so that his mind does not wander. Then, Sylus knows he searches and he looks. Under rock, across desert, in the mountains. Everywhere his missions take him, he searches.

He comes home empty handed, and tired, but never seems to sleep properly anymore. Restless and unsettled, no matter how often someone soothes his hair and holds him. Xavier sits in the cycle that Sylus knows they cannot break.

He has tried to reach out to Rafayel, the fish beached and unbreathing. He sits in his art room and stares at paintings he cannot finish. Empty canvas and snapped paintbrushes. There are days, he tears them, dry sobs in his chest, eyes burning for tears he can't quite shed. He splatters paint up walls, and stares at what remains. His hands cut and torn from violent actions.

He finds no inspiration, and he ignores all of Thomas' calls, and he sits as the doctor tends to damaged skin, and clings to hands to keep himself grounded. Whispering things that he doesn't want them to hear. Fears of it being his fault. They can only respond with tight arms, and affirmation. It is not, they're sure. It is not.

He watches Zayne pick up more shifts than he should handle, only home when forced to be. Sinking into work, and sleeping in call rooms. When he does return, he waters plants you have left behind, feeds the cats outside the house that seek you out, and keeps your things neat. He traces trembling fingers over photo frames, looks through albums, and reminds himself. So he can stop mistaking every hunter he sees as you.

His sleep is more uneven, and he trembles awake with nightmares, hands reaching out for comfort, and clinging to chests to cry. To weep, to shake. He cannot find solace no matter where he looks, and Sylus can only offer presence and love because he does not know where the solace is found either.

His home is torn and hurting, and he cannot fix it. He will not stop trying to fix it.

He has to fix it.

It is a late night, ninety-two days after your disappearance, when Mephisto's feed flashes. He watches, and he waits, and he sees a flash of familiar white hair and jagged scar down your cheek, through your mouth.

His hand tremours in front of the screen, as he reaches out with tentative fingertips. As though he can reach through it, and pull you through…

His legs force him up before he can second guess himself, before he can waver on the edge of unsurity. Before he can hesitate to long to miss you. He calls the prince, and he leaves. On the first winds of hope, since you vanished.

—-----

The prince stands alert outside the building, while Sylus breaks in. It is old and condemned, the same kind of building that collapsed down around you. Landed you in hospital as they put you back together.

It is not a place he would normally spend his time at. Yet he trusted Mephisto's eyes better than he trusted most things.

The perks of a robotic bird, that he has upgraded even further after your disappearance. Desperate, though he isn't sure he can admit that. Not without falling to pieces, as he digs and he digs and he searches.

Sylus is quiet as he ascends floors, his mist drifting up walls and through broken door frames. Seeking and searching for the familiarity he can never mistake. No matter how many floors he climbs, he cannot feel you. Cannot seek out the sparks of gold he knows so well, and the soul that cannot complete without his. He finally approaches the final door, and pushes it open. An apartment in ruins, but the smell of acrid blood hits him. Familiar and cloying. It does not appeal to his sense, nor to his hunger.

He looks at the walls, where blood has splattered, across the floor where bloodstains mark it. There is a body, throat cut, arm torn partially off. It takes him a second to assure that it is not you, but it is a second too long. The fear drops his heart before he can pick it back and place it where you placed your own.

Approaching the body, he cares little for the blood on his hands as he rummages through pockets, inspecting the wounds. Another stab mark through the temples. A dagger, curved. Familiar. He's seen it before. Designed by the fish, for you to use, adjusted lightness for the metal of your arm. Replacing the trusty claymore he used to witness you swinging with abandon.

Cleaving through enemies.

Cleaving through him.

He presses his fingers against it, assuring himself that he is not seeing what he wishes to. It would not be the first time he has caught glimpses of you in shadows, in alleys and chased the ghast. It is never you, it is always a cut into an already fragile heart, and he rights himself quickly.

To keep moving forwards.

This, however, he is not mistaken about. So he takes photos, sends them to the fish to evaluate, to the prince to be on guard. That someone is here, with your dagger. If it is not you, it has been stolen from you.

He will greatly enjoy cleaving through whoever has taken something precious to you. To lay their dirty hands on something that is theirs. His home, his family.

Footsteps approach him, and he hears a song he knows is yours. The notes though, they are buried in dust. The tune is not familiar. Your feet shouldn't make that noise, your heart is too familiar to him to be mistaken. To be misheard.

He whirls as a knife flies past his head. Stabbing into the broken sofa behind him. Sinking into moulding fabric. Releasing a smell he wishes he hadn't experienced. It fills the air as you step forwards, twirling a dagger around your fingers like he knows you've seen him do.

Like he taught you when you poked fun at him, asked him how he made it move so smoothly.

'Is it a crime lord aesthetic thing?'

'You have quite an image of me.'

'Am I wrong?'

'You just haven't looked closely enough.'

You are a flash of light, and a chill. A ghostly vision against the dilapidated backdrop. The dagger is dripping blood with each spin, splattering it against the floor and against your clothes. Black and loose. Harness over shoulder and around your chest.

You look as you should, jagged scars and crooked lips, mismatched eyes, arm of meta-

His eyes halt and hold on your form, there is no metal. He looks at the twisted carapace of a wanderer. Segmented into a limb, and long clawed fingers. Sylus feels as though he is staring at his own limb, long ago. When his claws could cut through your flesh with ease, and he could not feel the heat of your skin properly through his own.

It is black and twisted and cracked. Like a well used tool.

It is not yours.

It is not yours.

Yours was silver, painted by the fish, well worn and trusted. A tool as well as a part of you. A shield and a weapon in one.

It could trace his face gently, and swing a dagger with ease.

This is not yours.

The chill that you bring becomes ice down his back. It feels like the cut of a sword through his skin. Tears away at flesh and bone. Your eyes are empty, there is nothing in them but the glow of a gold he recognises. The resonance lurking under skin like a serpent waiting to strike. He levels his look on the dagger, and then back to your eyes. Seeking something out. Seeking you out.

You're in there, you have to be in there.

"Did you forget to check your phone, kitten?" He manages, but his voice is weak and cracked. He wants to grab you, to tell you it's fine, as long as you're safe now. He reaches out, and barely pulls his hand back quick enough before the dagger slices through where it was.

You tilt your head, then look down on the floor, "I was curious to know who sought out my target." The smile is crooked, it's wrong, it's twisted at the edges and broken. Like the horns he cut off years ago. "You're not on my list though."

It's a dismissive shrug, and a turn away. As though he is a stranger… as though he means nothing.

He barely holds the growl, though he is not angry, he advances on you, moving himself out of the way when your dagger darts out again. "Claws out kitten? Watch it, you could hurt someone." He manages, voice low, but pulling his tone to heel. He looks down at you. Reading at the empty gold glow, looking for something. Anything.

Disgust even, if there is disgust… you know of him.

There is nothing. Empty and cool. The abyss he should recognise but it is nothing he has seen before. Like you are missing. Like your body is empty.

You look back at him, unflinching, unbothered, watching him stare at you. It is the EVER symbol on your collar, he notices, it is like a brand against you. It is the flaming fury in his chest. It is not you.

It is them.

"Are you done?" You offer, stepping back out away from him, so he grabs your arm. The twisted skin against his flesh. Warm and pulsing under, but hard as stone. It is a painful thing to touch. It is not yours.

He looks at it, stares, and as he goes to speak, you tug it away from him. Spin, and kick him in the side.

The force makes him see stars for a moment, falling to knees. He gasps before he rights his body, before he forces adrenaline into his veins to catch the next kick you aim at him. The gold glitters under your skin, as you attack, and the leg he catches shakes his limbs. Throwing it away from him, as you spin and back away.

Sylus stands, and advances as you back up further, "That wasn't particularly nice, Kitten, we were having a chat."

"You shouldn't grab someone you don't know. It's impolite." You growl back, showing canines, and narrowing cool eyes at him.

Don't know.

He almost laughs.

He knows you, more than he knows himself. He knows you because you are part of him. He has lived with questions for who he is all of his life, has struggled to decide who he should be and who he is. You? You he knows.

He knows every piece of you, inside and out. He will always see you.

This is not you.

This is them.

"Then we should get to know each other." The words burn to say, and he reaches his hand out, ready to pull you to him. With skin, with mist. He cares little. He will capture you again, and he will make you wake up from whatever nightmare EVER have placed you in.

"I have orders, you're not part of them." You incline your head. He's used to a smile accompanying such an action, a tease, a lilt in your voice. Yet you are flat.

Then with the elbow of the wanderer's limb, you smash the window… and fall back.

He follows, on quicker feet than he has ever moved, melding into mist. Over the edge of the fall, watching you fall back. He has caught you so many times in his life. On the winds, with his wings, with his EVOL. He has followed you over the edge of many cliffs.

He will follow you over any others.

As he reaches out, you twist, hand on his wrist, pulling and turning, so that his back is to the impending floor. "You're determined." You snarl, actually snarl at him. His EVOL catches the dagger you aim for his chest, pushing it back, and he grabs your other arm, keeping the claws from closing around his throat.

You sink your teeth into his hand, biting down hard enough to draw blood, tearing at his flesh like he is a piece of meat you could devour.

The pain shoots up his arm, but it's not important. His wounds can heal, and while you can kill him, you have not levelled that fiend blade at his chest yet. Getting you back is all that matters, no matter the blood seeping down his wrist. You have bitten him before. You have come for him with daggers. You have shot him in the heart. Stabbed him through his joined heart. Cursed him.

Every drop of his blood that you bleed is another drop that belongs to you.

"Want to mark me that badly?" He laughs. He can only hope the prince has rested enough to hear the shattering glass. That he is still capable of hunting.

Your resonance bursts out of the wrist he holds in his mist, shattering it, and you kick, pulling away. Reaching out with claws to grab at the building. Grooves left behind you, as you slow your descent, he watches the gold shimmer again. Watches as the limb hardens further, claws thicker, digging deeper.

Spitting blood from your mouth, as you do.

He slows, balances himself. Without wings he cannot hover, can only slow his descent by a margin. His mist reaches out to yank you back. Into arms that cage around you, tighten around ribs he would normally be scared to break.

He holds, tight, and squeezes as much as he can. He feels you writhe, an angry cat held in a grip you do not want. Clawing and scratching. Willing to draw blood to escape. He feels the jagged claws of your hand grab at his wrist, digging into his flesh, tearing. Your EVOL bursts, and shatters, but it cannot shatter his bones, and he keeps the grip as you fall with him, as he ties you to gravity with him.

"Get off!" You growl, fury in your tone, and he's glad to finally see something from you. Some spark of who you are, even if it's angry and violent and vicious.

He sees a flash of light reflected off the glass of the buildings, and then he is caught and swiftly righted. Alongside a curse, and a huff.

Sylus turns to Xavier, who makes to speak before his eyes focus on you. Yowling and clawing. He reaches out a hand, only to have it knocked back by mist, "Don't. Your wounds don't heal like mine."

You snarl, "No, go on, let me slice you up." Claws flexing against the flesh you're serrating.

He'll heal. The pain is harsh, and burning. He's fought wanderers, but they don't have your mind. The knowledge of where to slice, the strength behind your anger.

"Starlight?" Xavier's voice does not waver often, he is used to seeing things that have hurt him. He has killed people who once followed him, he has fought those that were his loved ones. He has blood on his hands that burn to feel, but can never be washed off. Now, he wavers, watching someone who wears your face, but hisses and snarls to bite and snap. To cut and rip.

You kick back, into Sylus' shin. He avoids the second one, he knows is aimed to break his leg. Squeezes harder to creak your ribs. "EVER did something to them." He manages, using the mist to move the mark on your collar so Xavier can see it. He watches a jaw tick, the muscles jumping, blue starry eyes turn to ice, and focus on the point.

"We need to get them back." The prince approaches, and Sylus tightens his arms once more. If you have to be knocked out to get you back, well he can live with that. He's done it before. Hand around your throat, watching the life flickered in your eyes. Can your disgust hurt him more than the lack of any personal acknowledgement?

It is too soon for him to think, as you let out a snap of teeth at the prince, then smash your head back into his nose. The pain jolts up into his skull, so you reach your hand up, grab him by the hair and yank, then snap back one more time.

He's fought you before, he knows you. He knows you can beat him, he's been pinned by you in a test match before. Watching the glee in your eyes, seeing the fire at your victory. He has watched you practice swordsmanship with the prince. He has seen you cross daggers with the fish.

Everytime, you are cunning, you are ready to win. Everytime joy lights up your face if you succeed. Thrilled and happy to learn and improve. Crooked smile and bright eyes as you thank them for taking time for you to clash with.

It is not joy that lights your eyes, it's savage and it's gleaming. You do not extend your hand, or press a kiss to his cheek in your victory. You let him fall away from you, as blood sprays, and then you reach out with a clawed hand to rip at the prince's chest.

As soon as both have stumbled back, you turn, and you disappear.

Sylus' patience is strong. He has lived a long time, waiting, and living, and managing. It is when he has his prize so very close, that his desperation comes through. It was moments where he asked if you truly wanted him. Voice trembling and begging.

To touch, to taste, to hold, to seek pleasure with.

It was times when he had found you at last, growing impatient to feel your resonance against him. Moving too quickly, too desperately. Seeking memories locked behind a seal. Greedy for his beloved to look into his eyes and see someone worthy of flowers again.

It is the moments where he waits for your missions to end, and the message that you are returning, that he can no longer sit still.

It is when he saw your new home for the first time, a life built where he was not a monster, a family where he had nothing. Need bubbling to the surface to paint it in colours and fill it with song.

His patience has held until the last moment where relief is in sight. That it shatters, and it demands.

As he holds his bloody mangled arm, and spits blood on the floor, it breaks into shards. As he reaches out to Xavier, checking the wound, turning his face to check for others, he tears his already torn shirt to hold to the jagged claw marks.

As his fingers tremble and he shakes at where he is holding, he reaches for where his patience has gone and finds a small boy with broken horns. The absence of his calm, built on the back of his agony, lost to the fear and the doubt that circles his head.

It is the memory of the empty eyes, and the snarl that he can still hear in his head, the warm body in his hands, even though you had not been you.

You were finally so close, and now you are gone.

A hand tightens over his, the prince pulling his focus, and reaching up through the pain to ease tears that can't fall out of his eyes, "They're alive. We can find them again." He bites out, warming the chill in Sylus' hands, and waking him from the nightmare.

He will, and he'll melt every EVER building until he does. Rip the rot out by the roots, and become what Philos sneered at him for. A calamity.

Their evil is similar, afterall.

—------

He does not find any joy or relief in the information he brings back. As he watches the doctor stitch Xavier closed. Waving off his assistant. He eases the pain with his EVOL. Part of him wants to feel it, a reminder. You were there, he had you, and he let you go.

It does no one any good for him to be useless, or deeply wounded. So while the moon is still high, he repairs the damage, pushing his nose back into place. You'd told him it was beautiful, he hopes you still thought so when you returned. As the blood stops, and his wounds close, he leaves the room to shower.

The heat as high as it can go, to sear his flesh. It leaves his skin pink, as he finally turns the water off. Seeking out clothes that don't bear the ruins of your violence. When he returns to the living room, the prince's stitches are complete and bandaged, and the fish is looking at the photos he sent.

Before you tore at him like a beautiful and horrifying monster.

Had it been you, he would have welcomed your dagger and your claws.

He will not die to EVER's machinations. They will not make you their tool.

When he dies it will be because you have chosen willfully to cut through his chest and his joined heart. It will be your choice to sever your curse, and scatter his soul to the wind like the petals of deadly flowers.

Sylus eases himself into the sofa, leaning back and taking the fish's head into his lap with ease. Fingers finding purple locks and smoothing them out as they look at the photos.

He won't comment on Rafayel's feline-like purrs. He is too tired and worn. His heart hurts more than his arm did. "It was really them?"

"It was kitten, alright… Their body at least."

Zayne helps Xavier ease into a new shirt, cool hands sliding down sore skin, and turns his head to speak, "You think EVER are controlling them?"

The fish snorts, eyes narrowing, flames at his fingertips, "Is it surprising, after everything they've done?"

"That wasn't my question. Nothing they do at this point would surprise me, but controlling a person is…" The doctor flinches, and Sylus can see it. The image of you. Cold eyes, claws extended, tearing through Zayne's jugular. Blood splattering over your face, but you don't blink, or flinch. Simply move onto the next.

"Their eyes were empty, doctor. They didn't recognise or care when they saw me or the prince. They wanted to hurt us to escape… They didn't care how."

He finishes with the shirt and rubs at his forehead, trying to ease a headache that brews. It is better a headache, Sylus thinks, than him focusing on the aching pain in his chest. The fear of someone being broken by EVER. Experiments that defy morality. That twist and snap and destroy anything worthy of protecting.

That left him with twins, bearing scars. Inside and out. Who thought death would be an entertainment worthy of hunting for great prey.

That made you a child with a broken heart and a grandmother who didn't look close enough at what she did to you. Her morality flexible, because of your broken, twisted memory.

The doctor is a moral man, who believes in the power of medicine and science to save and protect the sanctity of life. That has rejected every offer for using his knowledge to twist that boundary. Who stares into the face of loss and believes dying in control of yourself, is better than living as a ghost or beast. Who has healed every wound you have held, and stitched up every injury.

Who nurses your heart, no matter how fragile it can be, or how much work it is.

What EVER stand for is so strongly opposed to the doctor, that Sylus can watch the tick in his jaw. The pain in his eyes. The tremble in his hands. The snowflakes drifting from fingertips, and the chill arching up his hands.

Rafayel removes himself from Sylus' lap, reaching over with heated hands and takes icy ones. Easing the cold back slowly, as the doctor fights for control over an EVOL that is soothed by you. It is a slower process with the fish, but it is worth it, as the chill recedes and the heat returns to the doctor's skin.

His trembling slows before it ceases, and he removes his glasses to rub his eyes, "Thank you."

The fish shrugs, sitting down next to him, ready just in case he is needed. Sylus looks down at his hand, flexing it in his lap, as he thinks about you taking his hand, pulling him forwards. No matter who he has been or will be, your hold has not wavered. It is his job to pull you back.

"We have a target." The prince exhales after downing a glass of water, looking over at him, and he nods, thinking. He can narrow down the search, look for traces, documents, records. EVER have always been simple to understand. Their methods are outdated to gain traitors, their experiments never stopped, no matter the state of the N109 Zone. No matter what destruction they left in their wake.

So he just has to find the thread back to you. While he has no intention of bloodying the doctor's hands, he has a fish who has killed those responsible for his people's suffering, a prince who has hunted any who dared raise a blade to you, and himself. A dragon whose treasure has been ripped out of his palms.

It is a foolish mortal that steals from a dragon.

—--------

Your return to their compound is slower after you've exercised that new EVOL you had been fed. It sticks in your maw, like a bitten on bone. It is uncomfortable, untrained, and aching. Your shoulder aches, your arm is covered in blood, and you need to clean your dagger.

The door swings open as you push through, slamming your fist on the wall to find the light. It brightens the room and you look down. Muscle and flesh in the grooves of your arm, sticking into the carapace. Stuck under segments. The feeling is a violent rejection. You rip the thing from you, throwing it across the room so that it smashes an unused lamp. Splattering some of the gore across the scientists whiteboard.

It is not really satisfaction at the viscera painting pristine EVER surfaces, but it is something. Or it is until a throat clears behind you.

"Little bomb, you should really behave yourself in the labs."

The feeling turns to biting fear, before you grab it by its throat and remind it. You do not fear foolish men. You do not cower to his slimy, disgusting voice. You do not run, or hide. You are not a child.

He is nothing.

You are a weapon.

"I don't recall you being the one I answer to, Leon."

You move through the room, seeking out the sink, and splashing water over blood on your clothes with one hand.

"Is the new attachment that unpleasant?" He points, indicating the weapon you had thrown. "If you want something better, we can provide it?"

The scoff isn't entirely in your control, but it does narrow the man's eyes, "You can't provide me much of worth Leon, don't act like you have any more power here than I do. It just needs cleaning. Drop it in a bucket. I'll care about it later."

"You're in a worse mood than normal, did you even carry out your orders?"

You round, dagger in hand and flick its tip under his soft throat, the tip pricking into skin, and bare canines, "When have I ever failed a job?"

He watches your hand, the dagger, then looks into cool, icy eyes. You can feel the resonance flickering, angry, uncontrolled. It is always harder to control some days. Like the sensations and the feelings are too hard to read, too uneven. You think about it failing when that man with white hair had you in his grasp. Refusing to help you break, to make yourself stronger. The panic of being held, the anger at being weak, the fury that breathed fire into your chest.

You do not know who he is, but you will slit his throat if he shows his face to you again. Tear his throat open with your teeth and drown in his blood.

"Kitten, tch." You hiss, pulling away from the scientist watching you with fear flickering in his gaze. "Starlight… What world do they belong to?" You spit at the floor, clearing more blood that still feels caught in your teeth.

"Seriously? Can you stop that?" Leon looks down at the blood now splattered on the floor, mixed with saliva.

"Clean it up if you're so unhappy. I'm going to clean this mess off me." You push past him, heading deeper into a compound that does not feel like anywhere you want to be.

"Stop, you have another order."

"Give it to me later."

"I'm here now, little bomb. You may as well listen."

It bubbles, it burns. You despise him, you don't really know why. You looked him in the eye when you opened yours for the first time and hatred and disgust and fear, embedded so deeply in your chest that you almost threw it up onto him. Leon greets you with his greying temples, and his sickening glimmer in his eyes as he stares at you, and he calls you little bomb.

It tears at your nerve and chews at your heel.

You want to tear his throat out, but you won't drink his blood. He is sullied, and disgusting…

But you have orders.

"What is it?"

"A doctor, he's wanted to do work here."

"Then offer him money, and immortality, I'm sure he'll jump at the chance." You spit again, this time aiming for Leon's shoes.

He rubs a hand over his face in response, looking at you like he is seconds away from locking you in a cage. You want him to try. The feeling is under your skin.

'Kitten'

'Starlight'

It simmers and burns and you want to cut and rip.

If he wants to try to tame your fury, he is welcome to try. To send you to one of EVER's toy boxes. To jolt you, and burn you, to remind you who holds the leash. Maybe the pain will shake out the feeling in the back of your gut. Maybe they'll put you in a ring, and watch you fight someone else like you. A tool, a weapon. Maybe you'll let someone pierce your chest for once. Spilling blood over the floor. Seeking escape in the splattered walls.

'Kitten'

'Starlight'

It lurches in your brain, words you don't remember, and irritation that has no place. "What on earth happened out there?" Leon finally asks, watching you wary. Good. Wary is good. Wary is careful.

"Your target had friends." You snap, dagger twirling around the skin of your hand, unbothered when it catches on fingers that don't move fast enough. The pain grounds you, washes out the voices, so you run a finger over the blade, and watch the scientist. He looks away from the blood and you almost have to laugh.

He can torture you, but he doesn't want to watch you bleed on his floor.

"Did you deal with them?"

"They weren't on my list."

"If they were there-"

This time you do nic his neck, dagger fast. His EVOL is worthless, pointless, and has no way to stop you. Not like the mist, not like it curling around your wrist like warm fingers.

"I follow my orders, Leon. They weren't on the list." His blood trickles down his neck and the scent is sour. So you push him away, turning and walking off, even though he protests, hand covering his throat, "Send me the name. I'll capture him."

The walk through the compound is full of people whose names you cannot remember, whose faces you see every time your feet carry you through halls. There are rarely new faces, a close iron grip held over tools in a grand scheme. The dagger twirls and twists, and you are given a wide berth.

Unicorn, Subject 001. It is an easy title to hold. Thanks to it hanging around your neck like a noose, you are unbothered by others. It is like you are a beast that they keep their chains around, but no one is willing to feed you from their hand.

They would rather throw flesh through the bars, and run away.

It is fear and disgust, you muse. As it should be. As if any of them are better than you.

It is bitter hatred that bites at your heels, that reminds you of every experiment, of every time waking up on a cold table, chest flayed as you are dug around in. Heart pressed and prodded.

It is your orders that keep you off that table. You are useful now. If you stay useful, you don't have to wake up in a cage.

It is the closest you can get to relief here, as though the sick doesn't swirl in your stomach still. There is no one to seek out for help, you are alone.

'Kitten'

'Starlight'

Your snarl is unbidden, and you shake your head like a cat trying to shake out fleas. As if that will shake out the ghost of voices, for fools who get in your way. Bright red molten eyes, tinged in glossy tears, and star blue constellations, gazing at you in wonder.

No one has looked at you like that.

The scientists have stared at you in greed, in hunger, with curiosity. But it is not wonder, it is hungry and cruel and brings pain.

You stomach and you move forwards.

These voices will fade, you will not see red and blue eyes again, and you will forget the curling mist. 

As you enter the room you have been given to clean yourself up, the photo on the side stares back at you. A man you do not recognise, but whose name is etched into the frame. Caleb, your family… You do not remember him, your memories do not summon him. He has died, they've told you. Cut out of your life by people who stand against EVER.

Your home destroyed, so now you stay here. In a compound with cold walls… and a box of a room that cannot be filled because you own nothing. Except a photo frame you have been handed, and the clothes you are to wear when working.

You think you feel grief at the concept of not having him. You think that there are moments where something aches so deep in your chest that you can't find an answer to it. Like you are missing something integral. Seeking something out, but can never find it.

Sometimes in the shadows, when you enter and forget to turn on the lights, you think you see plushies along pillows… you have seen some with them on their desks. They are not for you though, you do not even know where you'd begin to find one.

There is a cold broken feeling in your chest, whenever you turn the lights on and they are gone. Just a mirage from a mind you think is fractured by the tests. You don't know what the feeling is, but it hurts, so you move onto another job, and move forwards.

You wonder if Caleb would look at you with disgust, to see no recognition in your eyes, to see you, with dagger in hand and blood splattered over your mouth and face.

Or was he like you? A tool to be used.

It is a question that has no answer, the dead don't speak. You will never find out. You will never have a voice answer you back, questions you speak out loud, when the room is too quiet and too cold.

So you scald your skin with heat in the shower, and burn away the remnants of the memories of voices calling out for you, and the pain. As the blood rushes down the shower drain, and leaves you as close to clean as you can get.

—------

Leon is cleaning up the blood when you return to the lab to pick up your arm, it is hours later, but he seems harried. Hair falling out from where he normally slicks it back.

You debate saying something, but decide against it, especially when you see that the gore has been scrubbed from your arm. A job you did not wish to have to handle. Even thinking about it, makes you think of the feeling of muscle under your claws. The hissed pain through clenched teeth. The arms pressing around your ribs, tight but wary. Like you would break under them.

You strap it back on, and spin the dagger in practiced claws in relief. No nics, no cuts. You don't remember who taught you, you never taught yourself. It eases you though, something familiar. A motion that is practiced and quick.

"You can get a better weapon than that, you know." Leon sighs, standing, relieved to be finished removing the mess you'd spread. So that he experiments could continue on. His finger points over at the dagger in your claw and you watch as he throws cloth into bucket.

The way he looks at the dagger makes your hand clench around it, slipping it back into its sheath at your side, and glaring, baring canines. It feels like an open wound. To be separated from it. Like it is as much a part of you as… your arm…

Itching in the back of your neck, a feeling of wrongness. It is not your arm.

Silver, and painted. A beautiful red fish swimming over metal.

You shake your head, pulling away from Leon before he can get his hands near you, or near the tool at your waist.

It is yours. It cannot be replaced. "It's killed enough of EVER's targets to be a fine weapon. Perhaps you should be replaced instead."

The bite does not agitate the man, but it does satisfy the little voice asking you to snap him. A little. There is no response but you are done with him, until a question gnaws.

Like a little beast at your heel. Demanding something.

You're not quite sure what.

"Why won't the doctor join you?" You ask, pushing some equipment to the side none too gently to sit on a table.

"Stop throwing things around, we need those." Leon snaps, "Your temper is too short, little bomb."

Your laugh holds no humour, it is a choke of a noise, that means nothing, "You call me that, and expect my fuse to be long? Unluckily for you, Leon, you are the only one who doesn't fear to talk to me. So you are to bring me orders, and answer my questions. If your things are in the way, that's not my problem."

He rubs the space between his eyes, and for a moment you get a flash. Forests, and snowflakes. Drifting through branches and alighting on white petals. Blending, and freezing, then falling.

Pushing his glasses back up, he speaks, "He doesn't agree with the tests we are running."

"You think capturing him will help?"

"I think capturing him will make him less likely to help, but surely the order came for a reason."

You scoff, but shrug, "Can't imagine what they could offer him, that means enough to make him agree. I suppose all of you science types have a price though. Something they can tug at to make you abandon your souls."

His voice is cold when he speaks, and you watch the spark of irritation. It's rare, he tries to keep his calm false mask, but sometimes. You can poke and prod. Like he is a beast you want to see bite. White hair ruffled and soaked as he laughs through-

You blink, and Leon returns to his bespectacled brown hair, and brown eyes. He speaks but you don't hear, and you push off the table, waving a hand, "Whatever." You don't want to hear it anyway, whatever he has to say won't remove the scalpel. Won't ease scars that don't disappear.

Won't mean you can lay down a clawed arm of beasts that they experiment on.

You're not too different you suppose, if you were maybe your arm would have rejected your body. Demanding something closer to home. Instead it follows your demands, moves smoothly, easily. You were told it was the ideal weapon and tool, and using it has certainly made missions easier.

It does not mean you wish to see it more than you have to.

Fabric catching on the segments of hard stone-like skin. Every sensation through it feels like it's felt underwater. Distant and abstract. A picture you can't fully see.

You step through the hallways, flexing the clawed hand carefully, as you approach the testing rooms. Inside is the usual, an old man with goggles on his head, greying brown hair. Wrinkles. He pushes the goggles up as he looks over at you, "Phi, I need my check." You approach.

His chuckle is low, and he eases you. There is something about him that is familiar, against all other backdrops of the compound. This man is familiar.

Sometimes if you stare at him for long enough, you can hear his voice telling you to stay calm.

You're not sure what it means, if he was there during your hazy wake-ups that you barely remember. Just the pain of the pressure on your heart.

"The Unicorn has wandered over finally. Come on then, you're weeks late." He indicates the black reclining chair beside him.

It normally grates at you, Unicorn. It is not a name, it is a subject title. You don't remember if you've ever been called anything else though. If any other name has ever mattered to you.

'Kitten'

'Starlight'

'Cutie'

'Darling'

They swirl and then you shake, like a dog shifting water from its coat. You will not drown to voices.

The chair is cold to the touch as you lie back, but Philip's hands are steady and careful. He checks over you, scans with his tools, checks your EVOL levels. "How are the new additions?" When he asks, you can actually hear concern. It's rare… it's not offered often. He is here just to manage your health, to track it. Leon is here as your keeper.

He proclaims that he knows you best. His little bomb. His reason to be in that lab. The core in your chest is his proudest test subject.

You think about the 'additions'. EVOL's fed into your resonance, powering it, making it more useful. You think about the pain, the snarling voice that wishes to devour and swallow. You would tremble at the sensation of the heat in your core. The ripping and tearing. The gold enveloping, and the rippling power that explodes outwards.

Broken glass and twisted shards of metal.

You think about how hard they are to control.

You think about fiery red eyes watching you as you fall, and the resonance failing to come to your hand at will.

You think about heat from skin like a memory you could grasp if you tried hard enough.

You think about when it finally answered you, so you could leave the call of snapping beasts at heels behind.

Questions left unanswered. Blissful ignorance, so your heart does not shatter. You don't want to know the origin of the fever or the broken splinters.

There is nothing on the other end of the thread.

"Temperamental." You finally answer, "They're harder to control than just my resonance is. I can't call them at will."

He nods, jotting things down, as he reads. As you look at his goggles, you see a leather jacket reflected in it, but when you turn there is nothing there.

Perhaps not sleeping is leaving you as useless a tool as Leon is.

A problem to solve later, when you can finally chase out broken parts of your brain, and swallow something to ease the screeching behind eyelids.

"You need to practice with them."

You huff, turning your head away, "I didn't need to practice with my resonance, what kind of tool can't be used straight away?"

When he doesn't answer, you return your gaze to him, watching as the man frowns. Staring at his tablet, like it holds news he does not want to see, but the tablet is empty. "Phi?"

He looks up, wavering eyes, and tired bags. He also does not sleep, you remember. You've never had it in you to ask why. If he's as haunted as you are. If this place keeps him from escaping his nightmares. You could ask, or you could dig for information… You do neither.

You always do neither.

"Your tests are fine, you should get some rest though, and make sure you take your medication. Leon said you've skipped it for two days now." He extends a hand with pills shaken out into them. Suppressants, for the core in your chest. To stabilise it.

You've taken them since waking up. They taste bitter, and they stick in your throat.

You grab them out of his hand, and throw them back. You feel like spitting them back up into his face, but manage to swallow them down, relieved when he has water prepared. You down the bottle, easing the sensation of the chalky taste, and run your tongue over your teeth to clear the residue.

It's no surprise to you that Leon would rat you out. Like he thinks he is your keeper. Like he owns your soul, and your body. Not just the warden responsible for your pain. The object of your abject hatred.

The cool of the seat starts to burn, so you pull up and step away. Shoving one hand into pockets, claw loose at your side. "Anything else?" The man asks, his expression becoming warmer, a smile loose on his worn lips. The familiar feeling sparks in your chest, and you wish you could ask.

Maybe if you ask you'd understand.

If you ask, you wake up from a nightmare, and you're not sure if the outside is better.

So you shake your head, "No, see you." and turn on a heel, leaving as quickly as you can. You can't thank him, you can never thank him. He is the only one who does not treat you like something to cut open for experiments, and you cannot thank him.

Because it is a low bar to clear?

Because you should not have to thank for that?

Because you blame him too?

You do not go to find food, though there is a cafeteria. You don't need to stay here. With the cold walls. Stared at by wary mad scientists.

You have a job, you can always do some research. Something that requires the movement of your feet, and the use of your brain. Something to distract from the feelings that bubble and overflow. That leave a lingering bitterness in your mouth like chalky medication.

That make you look over your shoulder, and not focus on the target.

It is an agitation you cannot shake out, so you have to focus it.

Your feet take you back to Leon's lab, but his lab coat is over the chair, as his tools are left behind. So you dig into his pockets, and pull out his wallet. Relieved to find cash, and not just card. You could figure it out, but it's always a pain.

Instead you take all the cash he has to hand, and leave, throwing his wallet back on the table.

If he wants to demand a punishment, he's free to. If you get results, he's less likely to get what he wants.

You want to watch him chafe under the pressure.

—------

Linkon is familiar in a way you aren't sure how to word. You've been told you lived here, that you lived with Caleb in a house in a nice little neighbourhood, before it was taken from you. You've walked to the area before, and while you sometimes can feel heat against your skin, you cannot quite bring the image to mind.

Like you're staring at a static tv screen. Sometimes there's a shape you think you can make out, but it could just be the broken image, flicking so fast you've fooled yourself.

It's like desperately grabbing at something, only for it to slip further under sand. One thing you do know, however, is that your feet travel before your brain focuses. That you pass by things called kitty cafes, and hesitate for a moment. Looking through glass, and wondering what it is you're seeing. You almost entered once, before dread settled somewhere in the pit of you. Pushing you back.

A warning.

So you simply look through the windows, to watch the small creatures and the floating OTTOs that tend to them.

It is enough. Perhaps.

The acknowledgement of something that you enjoy. Or think you enjoy. Perhaps you played with Caleb.

Before he was taken away from you.

Would he be able to remind you of things you have forgotten? Records of things you should know, photos of times you'd spent together? Would he be able to spark the image if he stood before you?

Your memory just a casualty of EVER's saving your life… It is a low price to pay, you've been told. That memory can sometimes be reclaimed. That your life cannot.

You cannot help but feel like a haunted ghost though. Sparks and flashes with abstracts and feelings you can't explain or name. Things that lurk along the edges but cannot be grasped. You have nothing for yourself, but the jobs you are given, and the titles you cannot shake.

Perhaps if you keep following the path, you'll find an answer at the end of it. Even though you want to turn from it. Run the opposite direction. Would the answer even make you happier? Or would it make the feelings worse?

Could Caleb really have cared about someone Leon calls little bomb? Could a tool be more than itself? Or were you both tools?

Perhaps it was easy to exist, because neither had anything else to claim.

If that were the case, you think you could accept it. At least then you would not be alone, surrounded by things that want to twist and snap and break and bend you. Make you into a weapon sharper than a dagger.

You still await the moment they pierce your skull with a sword, so you bear the horn of the beast, they're so proud of naming you after.

It is the smell of sweets that draws you to a cafe, and you are relieved that no one bothers to look at you for your arm. Though you have passed at least three people with panda costumes, so you think perhaps, this is a low scale of concern for Linkon residents.

As you enter, money in your pocket, you rattle off as many cakes as you can read, and afford with stolen cash, and then ask for a black coffee.

You pause, and then correct yourself. Cream, two sugars.

You can see it placed next to your head on a bedside table, you can hear a snort of disgust against your neck. You shiver, the sensation of lips on the back of your neck making you scratch at it with sharpened claws.

The blood that catches at the edges, makes your panic rise, but no one is looking at you. Couples too caught up with each other, groups laughing, and people alone working. Linkon, you decide, is an interesting but strange place.

At the compound you are stared at. Watched warily. There is no step you can take where you are not eyed, as though you could begin howling and snarling at a moment. You wonder if they fear you will turn into a wanderer. Will the core in your chest make you as horrifying a beast as the Myst's that EVER manipulate? Augmented protocores giving them powers beyond understanding?

It is an interesting thought. You hope if that happens, someone will silence you quickly. Lest you lose even the semblance of you that you have.

As you find your way to empty chairs, stuffing a macaron into your mouth, hunger tearing at your edges, you feel the aggravation and sensitivity calm somewhat. The itch easing, and the feelings leaving you be.

'Food is important, sweets can fill your heart as well as your stomach.'

The voice isn't familiar, it is a whisper on the edges. It does not bite at you though. The edges softened down, no longer sharp and broken. So you stuff more into your mouth, unconcerned with the world around you. Sating the beast that purrs as you feed it sugar.

As you finally stop starving your body, though you still refuse to let it sleep. Perhaps the confectionery will do for now.

With one hand you continue to claim sugary treats, while the other flicks through information Leon had sent you.

Zayne Li, cardiologist. Highly respected, has rejected offers of work over sixteen times.

You can't imagine why he'd suddenly decide to take up EVER's offer, if he has steadfastly rejected every time they had tried. Perhaps they finally had enough money for him. Money, equipment, a curiosity. It was always something that summoned the science types into EVER's hands.

They never fought or rejected for long. Denied enough opportunities, they would come running. Desperate.

Ice EVOL, uncontrolled, appears to create backlash when used.

Ice shards, tearing through skin, ripping into flesh, and rattling air from the chest. You choke on a sip of your drink, spitting the coffee on the table as you rub at your forehead. You can feel the cold on the tips of your fingers, and you aren't sure why.

It is not one of the EVOLs that was fed to you.

Just more static, things that don't belong to you, that won't stop haunting your vision. The lack of sleep has to be the reason.

Still, to have an EVOL you cannot control… That hurts you when you do. You think of the ones that aren't yours, that have been devoured by your resonance, and you rub at the space over your chest.

The core in your chest will eat anything it can grasp.

The file gives you his main location, Akso Hospital. Kidnapping a doctor from a hospital, would likely result in more mess than you want to deal with. You'll just have to follow him to somewhere else when he leaves.

Surely he has a home.

Why it's not in the file is a question you will have to ask Leon later. You'd expect them to give you more than minimal lines.

It is not as though you will fail… failing means tests. You think of isolation rooms. Of fighting people haunted, with protocore syndrome. That shatter when you fight back. You think of the agony in your limbs when they poke and prod.

You think of shocks, and scalpels. You think of what EVER means when they make you their tool. When you are their test subject.

You think of how, even if you run, they will always be able to find you.

You think of how pointless it is to fight back, when they break you down.

You think of their buildings in Linkon, office workers who mill about with their symbols on their chest.

You think of the news reports you hear, with their technology selling to everyone you pass.

It is an encompassing web, and you are barely a fly.

EVER have reminded you, that being a tool is better than breaking.

You're unsure if that's true, but you know that death never seems to save you. You have plunged your beloved dagger into your chest, trying to cleave the core out, but woken up on a table. Unsuccessful, reminded of your place.

You are hazy, if someone stops you, if you're always being watched that they can grasp you before. You wake up though, staring around you, and it continues. You continue. Dagger in hand, EVER's mark on your collar, and given orders.

It is as you lean back, finished with your bounty, sipping the last of your coffee, that the door swings open.

"I don't think now is the time to eat sweets."

"And I know you're not feeling great, when you can say that doc."

Static.

Like in that broken down apartment building. Staring at a man who looks like a ghost to you. Slowing your dagger long enough to look.

Crackling along the edges, filtering through your vision. Overlaying so many images against the other. It is noise and it is broken images.

It is a force of a wall you cannot break through.

You look, as two men enter. Tired, drawn eyes. One you know by the file in your hand.

The other, you know by the signs and posters.

Zayne Li and Rafayel Qí.

It is an easy thing to sit and watch as the one rubs at his eyes, and the other nudges him, hand easing strain from back.

They do not know you. No matter if they pick out the symbol on your collar, there are countless EVER employees, and your face is only known to the ones you're ordered to kill.

And now capture.

Still, your eyes want to move away. Looking at them hurts. The static is loud, and the feelings are back. An uncomfortable ripping at the fabric of what's inside you.

So you stand to leave, hoping you can pull away and come back another day. It is no use tracking a man when he has company, for all you know the artist is a bodyguard in his spare time.

Complications are not worth testing with.

It is the movement of your chair, and the way you stand, grasping at your chair to push it back in, that draws their gaze to you. It sends a chill down your spine, as they look.

As forest green eyes and burning pink and blue stare at you. Wavering.

You are hit with the static, louder now, pushing down on your head, trying to drown you. You want to cover your ears, but you can't. You can't stand out. You can't be odd. Not out here. Not more than you already are.

No one has looked, or cared. So you put one foot in front of the other, and it shatters the silence.

"Cutie?"

"Darling?"

It tears at the fabric, and it rips at the gauze. The open wound in your chest. You feel the ice though skin, the water in lungs. There is a sensation of falling, and an aching where you land.

They approach, and you wave off. Claw in the ground trying to right yourself, pull yourself together. Remember what you're supposed to do. Get out, leave. It doesn't matter if they remember your face… It won't matter when you knock out the doctor and take him back.

Even if the artist remembers you, EVER can cover it up.

They've never failed to do so before.

You just have to get out. To find your feet.

Why is there so much static?

Someone kneels by you, and a cold hand touches the claw digging into the ground. It cuts through the carapace, rips at the seams. You pull away, and it gives you enough shock to cut through, to give you a door. You back up, and shake your head, "I'm fine, sorry."

You don't look at teary eyes, or stop long enough to be grasped at, you don't want to know why they looked at you, or saw something.

You don't want the static.

You just have to get back, and do your job… Then shake out the voices who call out names that settle softer than Unicorn.

[mo0nfairy]

Bro when they remade the game of re4, Leon made me want to just....do anything for him. He's just- so- AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH.....You know? And thinking of him as a yandere made me giggle and kicking my feet

part 2. part 3. part 4.

tw :: yandere!leon, obsessive!leon, alcohol, kidnapping, drugging blood, being chained up, insinuations of suicide.

⸺ ommgggg !!! i've been playing the game bit by bit in my free time and im actively going batshit over this man. so here are some of my thoughts……………….

you met leon during the events of RE2 in raccoon city. you ever heard of scary dog privilege? that was basically him with you the entire night. your personal bodyguard, your guard dog. he saved your life over and over and over again until you both practically lost count. however, once you both survived the night and the sun arose, you went your separate ways (much to his dismay). law enforcement and the government were attempting to track down survivors, due to their theories of them having links with umbrella. you had absolutely nothing to do with it, obvi. so, to avoid it all, you vanished. and for 6 long, insufferable years, leon has lived without you. countless therapy sessions, solace in alcohol, and numerous partners who didn’t last longer than a month, nothing could make him forget you.

now (knowing your luck), you just so happen to be one of the missing hikers the police officers speak of in the very beginning of RE4. you were taking a daily stroll through the woods to meditate before you were kidnapped and brought into the los iluminados cult. fortunately for you, you managed to evade being infected. however, you have still spent the last week in sheer misery. running from the village-folk, dodging hidden bear-traps, and scavenging for any crumbs you could consume. you can only dream of the shower you'd take after this nightmare, where you can scrub your skin of the grime, blood, and god knows whatever substances have stained your form. you did befriend a lone wolf, however, so that's a plus!

leon just so happens to be in the same area you're in, only with intentions of saving the president's daughter. he had hoped that by becoming a secret agent, he would be able to manipulate the provided resources and find you. before he knows it, leon soon wakes with a gasp, finding his hands above his head and his wrists chained together. he yanks the chain down, only to hear a quiet voice whisper "hey, quit it!" that voice. leon springs to his feet and turns to verify his suspicions, the sudden movement behind you scaring you into doing the same. he gasps your name in disbelief, before he falls into awed silence while staring at you in complete captivation. you have no fucking idea how much he missed you. all these years of searching for you, dread satiated through him at the possibility of you being dead. leon knows in his heart he would not have the strength to live if you had truly been gone forever. but now, there are no worries. the light of his entire life is alive and by his side! exactly where they belong.

on your end, however, was a complete different story. that night 6 years ago was now an entire blur. umbrella had managed to hunt you down mere days after the event, drugging you with a variety of different remedies. their efforts succeeded and had caused you to almost completely forget that night. your brain has only been able to scrutinize the blood, the death, and the groaning and screaming of undead figures around you. weekly visits with your therapist are helping you disinter forgotten pieces, but leon wasn't present in any of these newfound memories. so, when this stranger whispers your name into the air and stares at you as if you had just descended from heaven itself, you aren’t able to connect the dots.

a smile, one that could rival the sun, breaks out on the face of the mysterious blonde. tears brim in his honeyed gaze. "oh, god. you have no fucking idea how happy i am to finally see you!” holding his hands out, he takes several long strides towards you to engulf you, to where you take several steps away from him.

"who the fuck are you?" his world shatters, "how do you know me? are you the one behind this shit?" your eyes are full of confusion and uncertainty. a major contrast to the look of heroism and gratitude you gazed at him with ages ago.

without another breath, leon pulls the chain towards him, causing you to spring forward. your wrists are tied above your head and your feet are practically dangling off the floor. there are now mere inches in between you and this man. and the look of sheer horror on his face is unforgettable.

"look at me…” his eyes feel like bullets stinging into you, tears spilling down his cheeks. “it- it's me, angel! it’s leon! leon scott kennedy, i worked in the RPD that night 6 years ago.” his breath hits your face as he desperately recounts the worst night of your life. “y/n, i saved your life. and you saved mine. don't you remember?"

leon’s hand cups your face, skin hovering over yours, almost as if he were afraid to fully touch you. his face scrunches up from the sobs racking through his body.

“don’t you know how much i still love you?”

you finally have the revelation that whoever this 'leon scott kennedy' is was with you that night in raccoon city. you also conclude that you are most definitely not getting away from him so easily.

n e ways.... i went wayyyy to overboard with this, but like i said, i've been having some THOUGHTS about re4 and our golden boy. also some other characters too, hehe…………

if you'd like to see more, pls don't be afraid to send some asks in !!

[sereinreality]

making a luis lives au and having it lead up to re6 so i just want to write down my ideas so far

- ada saves him without a shadow of a doubt. somehow, someway, she gets him off the island and takes him to a hospital to heal while she spends those next couple of months making plans. when luis is properly healed, she would offer one of two options; either work with her or she’ll leave him some things but they have to keep little to no contact. luis obviously goes for the first choice.

- they definitely bond over the course of time they work together from re5 to re6. i like to think their similar backgrounds, history, and goals bring them closer together. luis would always try to find a reason to throw festivities, he’s very insistent on celebrating ada’s birthday or any holiday.

- luis’s nickname for ada is “mariposa” she rolls her eyes every time he says it but she genuinely loves it

- they do a lot of moving around which means time to kill and lots of stories. luis likes to play a game where he tells a story and ada has to guess wether it actually happened or he just made it up. most of the time he’s lying but argues “you never know! maybe someday it will be true!” it makes ada smile. luis tries to make her smile as often as he can.

- luis didn’t change in terms of making jokes. he figures there’s no point in falling to despair when you’ve been given your last chance so he makes the most of it. it annoyed ada at first, thinking that luis wasn’t taking this seriously but upon closer inspection, she realized he’s grown way more cautious than before. she excused some of the teasing after that but never backed down from some back and forth

- ada and luis are like soulmates in the way that they are two sides of the same coin. where there’s one, you’ll find the other. they are connected by coincidence but they treasure it. more than anything, it’s a deep understanding between them. everything they did to survive, to get out of their respective situations, the choices they made, and the loneliness they felt. luis swears that as long as he lives, ada will never feel alone again. ada says likewise. both of them mean it with their whole heart.

- under NO circumstances can leon learn that luis survived. it’s a depressing truth they both understand that if leon got the smallest hint of luis’s survival that he would begin a manhunt to find him. they have too much work being carried out that cannot be compromised. that doesn’t stop luis from searching for leon’s name in government files or papers, he keeps up to date with anything where he’s involved. what can he say? the knight misses his prince.

- that being said leon does not handle post valdelobos very well. he still has luis’s lab key which he keeps in a box tucked away somewhere. sometimes the smell of smoke brings him back to spain and the mines where he lost someone he’s grown so close to in just a small amount of time. it shouldn’t break him as much as it does but it’s something that stays in the back of his mind. leon feels like he missed something. that there was an opportunity open to him that he failed to see, it could have been something but now he’ll never know. the door shut in his face just when leon realized what was being offered to him.

- once he saw don quixote displayed on a bookstore window with a lovely red cover and bought it immediately. it sits on his shelf collecting dust, leon hasn’t had time to read it or so he says.

- the trio do reunite in re6 but more importantly, luis catches wind of some of the stunts leon had been pulling and their first interaction after years was luis marching up to leon as he backs into a wall. luis is shouting in spanish, probably complaining about leon not prioritizing his own safety, then switching to english so he can yell in a language leon understands. it was here that he catches leon’s face. he’s so much older now, worn out like leather. leon looked exhausted but he also seemed so amazed? confused? whatever it was, he looked softer now and his eyes widen a little. he simply says, “you’re alive?”

[ikeromantic]

Leon, Bookstore, Marshmallow

Leon goes out in search of a book the Belle is reading so he can understand her better. Approx 1000 words of the lion being such a sweet lamb. IkePri New Years Event story!

Leon took a deep breath, steadying himself. This was it, he thought. His moment of truth. His amber gaze took in the seemingly endless shelves of books. Somewhere amidst the leather covers and gold lettering lay the book he sought. All he had to do was find it. 

Well, find it and read it and understand what the Belle loved about it. But one challenge at a time, hm? 

The prince adjusted his collar, uncharacteristically nervous. Then he walked down the first aisle of shelves. He wasn’t sure how these things were organized. Hopefully by title. His calloused fingers traced along the line of titles as he read through them. Cooking Herbs. Life in the Garden. A Kitchen Garden Primer . . . Ok, definitely not this shelf. 

He shifted his attention to the other side. “No. No. Mmm.” Not this shelf either, Leon thought. Just a bunch of bird books. The next aisle beckoned him, the hope that perhaps her book could be found here. 

It would have been so easy to give this task to a servant and simply wait for delivery, but he wanted to be the one to pick the book off the shelf. To buy it, and bring it home. He wanted every step to be him, his effort and time. Because . . . Leon cleared his throat. Focus, he thought. 

“Good afternoon, sir. Did you need help finding something?” 

The voice surprised him, but of course the shop would have an attendant. He turned to find an older man, his wispy white hair combed back, a smile on his face, and ink on his fingers. Leon smiled. “I am.”

The elderly bookshop owner smiled back, a kindly smile. “Do you know the title or author? If not, I can also find the book if you know what it’s about.”

“I think the title is Destined to Love? I’m not sure about the author. It’s a romance though.” 

“Destined to . . .” He eyed Leon, taking in the fine clothes, the sword at his hip, the warrior’s callouses on his hands. “I do have a copy. But I must apologize, sir. I cannot sell it to you. It’s reserved and I do not know when I will receive additional shipments from Kogyoku.”

Leon’s brows rose. “It’s from Kogyoku? I didn’t know.” 

“I have several other titles. Perhaps another book?” The old shopkeep gestured to a shelf on the other side of the store. 

The prince shook his head. “It has to be that one.” He fixed his amber gaze on the shopkeep. There was an intensity in his eyes that he was unaware of. The weight of an emotion unacknowledged. A passion unrequited. “I need that book. Tell me what I can do to change your mind, Mister . . .?”

“Akatsuki.” The old man frowned, stroking his chin. “If I may ask, my lord, why does it matter so much to you?” 

“Please, call me Leon.” He patted the old shopkeeper’s shoulder. “Have you ever wanted to know everything about someone, Mister Akatsuki?”

He nodded slowly, studying the prince’s face. “Everything?”

Leon’s smile grew. “Everything. What she likes, or doesn’t like. The thoughts she has when she smiles. What makes her frown. Her favorite color. The perfume she wears. Her dreams.” His voice was gentle and full of warmth, a purr of pleasure just thinking about the Belle. He could see her in his mind’s eye, curled up in a garden chair, book open in her lap.

“And this book will teach you these things?” Akatsuki looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

“It will teach me something. She is reading Destined to Love now, and she smiles so happily when she does. Yesterday, when she closed it, she held the book to her chest for a moment and looked so - so beautiful.” Leon took a breath, his heartbeat speeding at just the memory. 

The old shopkeeper had a twinkle in his eyes as he pursed his lips. “Was she now? That sounds about right.” He sighed and tugged at his chin. “I suppose there’s no help for it then.”

“No help?” The prince wasn’t sure what Akatsuki meant. “Please. I need that book. There must be some way to -”

“Come here.” The old man gestured for Leon to follow. He took him to a backroom where several wood boxes sat in tall, narrow stacks. “I need these out on the floor and open. Start with that pile there.” He pointed. “I’ll tell you where they go.”

Leon grinned. “Thank you so much, Mister Akatsuki! You have no idea how much this means to me.” He pulled the shopkeep into a hug, surprising the old man. 

Akatsuki chuckled and patted his back. “See if you thank me in an hour, hm?” 

The prince set out every crate, opening each one. It was no easy task and he was sweating under his fine coat ten minutes in. An hour in, his arms started to ache. Two hours later, as he set out the last crate, his muscles felt tight and hot. This kind of lifting was nothing like swordplay or horse riding, and he was pretty sure he’d be stiff tomorrow. But it was worth it. 

He grinned at Akatsuki as he set pried the last crate open. “What’s next?”

The old shopkeeper laughed. “Energetic, aren’t you? But I’m afraid that’s all I need help with today.” He fished a thick book from his apron pocket. The cover was dark leather, the words inscribed in silver along with a trail of falling cherry blossoms. Destined to Love. “I believe this is the wage we agreed to?”

Leon pushed his hair back from his face and used his sleeve to wipe away the sheen of sweat. “You have no idea how much this means. Thank you so much.” He was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

Akatsuki smiled back, the creases beside his eyes crinkling. “Just remember, the sum of what a woman wants cannot be contained in any single book. Talk to her. Listen to her. Treat her like a princess.”

“Better, even.” Leon took the book reverently. It was thick and heavy in his hand, weighted with more than just the freight of its cover and pages. “Thank you again!” He hurried from the shop, his heart singing.

[nzeldahime]

His Puppy (RE2!Leon x Reader)

Oh look, a finished one shot fic !! Started as a drabble for my dear friend @leonspuppy and turned into a whole story (oops #sorrynotsorry) /-\

Synopsis: You go out with Leon & some work friends, things get a little uncomfortable so you leave and Leon has to comfort you at home

Notes/Warnings: my first fic! (posted at least), mention of bullying (@reader, not coming from Leon), gender neutral reader (no pronouns), lots of crying/sad vocab, fluff/comfort, no use of “y/n”

You had just wanted to get along with Leon’s friends and agreed to a night out with them. The two of you had decided to leave the work get-together early when you had ended up the victim of a scream attack. One of his coworkers had gotten a little too drunk and tried to make a fool of you in front of the unit. They kept on saying how Leon was too good for you and you were just a lost dog following him around. You couldn’t take it and started crying right then and there, another thing for them to pick on you about. Leon did his best to step in, which was him getting in between you two and telling them in a stern tone, “that’s enough.” He then took you by the hand and pulled you out of the building, the sound of that coworker’s yelling fading into the crowded bar. 

Now, Leon’s hand was holding onto you just as strongly as when he rescued you from that awful situation. He held it the whole way home, even in the car with one hand on the wheel and the other gripping you tightly; he only let go to help you out of the car, then it was right back to your hand. Tears were streaming silently down your face as Leon led you back to your shared apartment. As he carefully guided you up the stairs, he took glances back at you, a twinge of pain showing on his face as he looked at your tear stained cheeks. 

“P-please don’t cry, babydoll. We’re almost home,” he said with such concern. He almost sounded like he would cry too.

When you reached the door to your place, he stopped to peer into you once more. You didn’t want to look at him, make him see the pained expression you wore and your eyes trailed downwards, looking down at your feet. His hands found the sides of your face, making you face him. You couldn’t help but look into his baby blues and you broke down once again. The tears wouldn’t stop, you let them take over, and the whole ordeal turned Leon into a nervous wreck. 

“W-whoa, hey, I’m sorry, what did- did I do something?” You just kept crying and fell into him. He held you, a little bit confused, but was as delicate as possible while he reached into his pocket for the house keys. “I-I can’t find em,” you heard him muttering to himself, “dammit, where’d they go?” 

You tried your best to calm down enough to search within your own pockets. You stayed pressed against his chest, fumbling till you found the keys in your jacket pocket. Although without the strength to speak, you pulled away from Leon enough to place the keys in one of his hands. 

“You always were more responsible than me in most things,” he said in an attempt to lighten the mood. You sniffled, wanting to let out a little bit of a laugh, but the tears continued to flow. When he realized that was no help, he ushered you through the door after unlocking it as quickly as possible. 

Leon reached for you, taking the jacket from your shoulders and placing it on the hooks by the door along with his own. In the next instance, he gathered you into his arms once more. You continued to cry into his chest and he made gentle shushing sounds as he navigated your mushed bodies to the bedroom. He managed to sit you both on the bed, still holding you close. He placed a kiss on your head.

“I’m sorry if I can’t do more for you right now,” he spoke into your hair. “I wish I was better at this kind of thing.” He then began to stroke your hair, gentle comforting pats to your head in hopes to comfort you more.

“Y-you don’t think I-I’m a d-dog, do you Leon,” you questioned between sniffles and hiccups. You felt him pause his movements and grow a little tense, causing you to look up at him. He had an apologetic look on his face as he looked down at you. 

“I didn’t mean for you to think I was petting you! I just- I thought it would be soothing or, su-something,” he stammered, trying to get out an explanation. Now you couldn’t help but smile a little. 

“I liked it,” you stated. Relief washed over his expression. 

“Should I … keep going?” 

You hesitated, but then nodded. He continued his movements, his fingertips weaving through your hair and sending slight goosebumps on your skin at the sensation. You sighed in relief, your breath hitching as you stopped a sob from ripping through you. A few moments of this went by as you melted further into him with each touch.

“I like to think of you more as a puppy I can take care of.” Leon’s voice was low, almost a whisper, his words filled with a caring tone. He chuckled a little and added, “In a good way.” You smiled into his chest.

“I wouldn’t want to be anyone else’s puppy,” you replied, your voice slightly muffled. You felt him chuckle again, the slight vibration against your face making you smile more. You wrapped your arms around his waist and squeezed lightly.

“Thank you, Leon.” 

He pulled away slightly, arms still around you, but enough so he could see you. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“For what?” You let out a giggle.

“For making me feel better, silly man.” 

You could see a slight blush on his face as his eyes looked elsewhere, avoiding eye contact. He was so cute, you couldn’t help yourself and pressed a kiss to his cheek. That got him turning redder and he immediately became flustered. He stood up, clearly nervous and lost on what to do next. 

“I uh - I should probably take a shower. Been a long day and what not,” he forced out. He was almost tripping over his own words as he made his way towards the bathroom. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

After Leon had finished up, you went to shower soon after. When you both were comfortable and ready for bed, you got snuggled up under the covers. He had an arm under you, resting his hand over your shoulder as you leaned your head on his chest. 

“I’m sorry about my stupid friends,” he said out of the blue. His tone was defeated. It all caught you by surprise, your heart skipping a beat as you recalled the encounter at the bar. 

“I know he was really drunk,” Leon continued, “but that doesn’t excuse the way he talked to you. I’ll have a talk with him at the station next time I see him.” He leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of your head. “You don’t deserve that kind of talk. You’re more to me than they’ll ever know.”

You almost teared up at his words, so much happiness filling your heart. Bringing your arm over his middle, you gave him a light squeeze. 

“They were right about one thing,” you teased. 

“And what’s that?” 

“You’re definitely too good for me.”

Leon laughed and embraced you. His arms wrapped around you, enveloping you, pressing you tighter against him. 

“I love you, my little puppy.”

[14muffinz]

Whoops! It seems like twin-sync leo has run off to who knows where! Have you seen him?

[this answer is a collaboration with the original asker. the parts in april's perspective are mine, and the parts in donnie's perspective are hers. I hope this still makes some semblance of sense]

~~~

April nearly crashes into the turtle, just barely managing to catch herself in time. Maybe running around the arena isn't the best idea, but, well, she's gotta find her brother somehow.

After stumbling into an alternate April, Donnie blinked a few times in surprise, sure he knew there was other April's, but there weren't too many around in here.

"Uh, no, I don't think so," she says. She might have, for all she knows, but with how hyperfocused she's been on finding her own, she's spotted plenty of different ages, heights, eye colours, and so on. She hasn't focused to hard on anyone in purple, though, and thus she can't help but startle when she realises that this Donnie seems to have slider markings on top of his own. (She should probably be used to weirdness by now, but there's something especially off-putting about seeing something unknown in one of her brothers. "Have you seen my Leo?"

A moment too late, she realises that he probably doesn't know what her Leo actually looks like.

After registering her question he grimaced slightly as he spoke, “Ah… well maybe?? There's a shocking amount of blue here actually..” he ended his statement with a nervous chuckle.

April huffs, figuring she might as well take a bit of a breather. "No kidding. At least my bro's will be able to catch up with me if they don't have any better luck, I'm sticking out a bit I think."

She figures that they're probably still looking for Leon. She can't exactly imagine any of them giving up, unless they do something stupid like trying to use their ninpo to aid in the search.

"I wonder if there's a better way at catching their attention here than just running around aimlessly. I went to the, uh, lost and found corner earlier with my bros, but that place seemed to make it worse than better, to be honest. And, like, this is a really good opportunity to find my brother, since he's been missing for a while, so I can't just…" she trails off, then winces. "Right, sorry, you don't need my life story. Did your brother run off while he was here, or have you been looking for him the whole time?"

Donnie tilted his head to the side as he began recounting the earlier events that lead to Leo running away, “So we may have made friend while we were here, and he thought it would be fun to introduce one of HIS friends to US…” the striped turtle paused for a second “…which wouldn't have been a PROBLEM if he wasn't so… menacing, to put it lightly.”

The purple-clad turtle looked back at April with a nervous expression, “And he kinda… ran off at the sight of him…” the turtle sighed in frustration, “and apparently he got REALLY fast cause I couldn't catch up to him..”

"Ah. Good luck finding him, I guess," she responds awkwardly.

He then directed the question back at her “What about you? Has your Leo been missing long?” He asked.

April nods in response to his question, shoving her hands into her pockets and wrapping one hand around the fidget cube that she's got stored inside. She starts frantically tapping at buttons while she says, "Uh, yeah. He's been missing for over a year at this point, and we haven't had a lot of leads. He just... up and left one night."

It's not really the whole story. It's his missing arm, the one that's still in beta and specially made for fighting at that. It's the nail marks in Draxum's table, as though someone had frantically gripped it, and how Big Mama has been on their asses for months about a robbery that never even happened.

"When we got here, we realised that a lot of other reunions were going on, so we figured that he had to be here somewhere. But so far, no dice. The costumes really aren't helping any."

he took in her response and said “Oh, well my Leo was trapped in another dimension before this whole thing started, but we could still talk, sometimes at least.” He got quieter as he spoke, truly thinking about going a whole year without ever knowing if Leo was even alive… finally came to a resolve with a determined expression, empathy filled eyes looked back to the alternate version of his sister.

"That's good," she says weekly, forcing herself to push down the jealousy that builds. She'd give anything to talk to her missing brother right about now, but she isn't going to allow herself to get upset over something she's glad someone had.

He offered her a hand and with a smile he spoke “How about we team up and look for him together?” In his mind he resolved that his own Leo would be okay for a little longer.

April smiles and nods, reaching out her non-fidgeting hand to shake his. "I'll help find yours too, y'know. It's only fair. The more eyes the better, and all."

When they release the handshake, she grabs her phone out of her pocket, quickly flipping over to a folder full of comfort videos with her and her family. They'd made it shortly after the Kraang Incident, when emotions and separation anxiety were running rampant, and it's been getting tons of use since Leon vanished. She scrolls over to a group photo, taken just a few weeks before he'd gone missing, and shows it to the alternate version of her brother. "This is my fam, so that you can help look. I don't really know if I need help looking for my brothers, since supposedly we'll get tossed back home when all this is over, but... I don't know, it seemed important, I guess."

She twists the cube in her pocket, starting to toy with another side. She's definitely sure that the clicking of the button is now audible, but doesn't particularly care.

Donnie did his best to not acknowledge the faint, but still audible, clicking he heard in an effort to not stress April out any more than he may have already.

Looking towards the picture, he made sure to commit the faces- but in particular Leo's- to memory so he could accurately search alongside her.

As they searched, Donnie encouraged and contributed to telling stories of their respective Leos in an effort to lighten the mood.

~~~

Thanks for writing this with me, was a blast!

@tmntaucompetition

[dear-satan]

Sugar

Leon S. Kennedy x fem!Reader

note: hello! it's my first post here and I'm slightly stressed, hah. I hope you like and warmly welcome this short story with Leon. I apologise for any mistakes and will try to correct them soon kisses

The warm rays of the sun broke through the leaking blind, illuminating the small but very cosy bedroom. One by one, the streaks of light reached the clothes carelessly thrown on the ground entering finally the frames of the double bed finally illuminating the face of one of the two people sleeping in it. A quiet murmur broke from Leon's lips when nature decided to wake him first. His eyelids slowly tilted adjusting his vision to the sudden light falling on his face and the first thing he saw was your sleeping face hiding in his chest. Tangled strands of your hair adorned the white pillow on which you lay in various sights and curves which he admired for a moment. He met you quite by chance, doing his usual grocery shopping. He couldn't find the flour he needed that day in the kitchen and, seeing no shop assistant on the horizon, he asked you for help. To this day, he remembers the confusion on your face quickly replaced by a genuine smile when you pointed him to the right aisle. God. He fell in love with it instantly and it became his goal to see it every day.

"Morning, doll" his soft lips rested on the top of your head "Coffee?"

"Mmhm…" you muttered quietly rolling over to the other side. Yes, wakefulness was not your forte as Leon had found out many times before. More than once or twice he had tried to drag you out of bed in really different ways, starting from making breakfast to dousing you with water or pulling you out from under the duvet by force. After so many unsuccessful attempts, he finally realised that he was unlikely to ever win over your love of sleep.

He got out of bed, immediately slipping on a pair of sweatpants lying on the floor. He immediately directed his steps to the kitchen, which was connected to the living room, and put the water on and then began searching through the cupboards for mugs. It wasn't that it was his first time at your place or that he visited too infrequently to remember where what lay. You just loved rearranging and even in the middle of the night you could move a sofa from one end of the flat to the other suddenly thinking that its previous place was the wrong one. It was the same with the positioning of objects in your flat. Every now and then, when Leon was welcomed on your doorstep, he would find a different place for the dishes, towels and even his clothes that he had left with you. This was your little deviation, which he also managed to get used to.

Finding the cups at last, he poured the powder he had poured into them earlier with water and milk and then reached for a container standing nearby, pouring two teaspoons of sugar into his drink. Although he was generally a tough guy he loved sweet coffee and didn't understand how you and some people could drink it without adding a little sweetness to it.

"Good morning." your sleepy voice enveloped his heart and the warmth of your hand rested on his bare chest as you embraced him from behind.

"Woah… I'm in shock baby. It's not even eight o'clock yet and you're already out of bed." he laughed as he stirred the drinks with a spoon, which he promptly threw into the sink "Are we having some kind of holiday today?" he turned and placed a welcoming kiss on your lips.

"I had to go to the bathroom." you explained while giving yourself a kiss and then hugged him tightly. His strong, addictive scent teased your nose making you feel like hugging him over and over and over again. He was like a drug to you, so when he was still away on police training, you wore his clothes without throwing them in the washing machine until they really needed it. So now that his academy was over and there was a week to go to Raccoon City you gloated over his scent as much as you could.

"Right, force majeure." he giggled handing you a warm drink in your favourite pink mug.

With love in his eyes, he watched as you warmed your hands against the vessel to drink some of the beverage seconds later. He did the same, but instead of the sweet taste spilling over his tongue, he felt a sickening, salty-sour taste irritating his taste buds.

He turned around quickly spitting the drink into the sink "What the…" he twisted his face in a gesture of disgust "After all, I sweetened it."

"Leon, sweetheart… What did you pour the sugar from?" at first he didn't understand your question and his irises involuntarily flickered towards the container from which he sweetened the coffee. When you followed his lead you laughed shaking your head. You set your mug down on the counter and then pulled out a white container from one of the cupboards with the word 'sugar' written in bright pink. "I guess I forgot to tell you that the sugar has also changed its place." you giggled at which he just rolled his eyes.

"Yeah… I guess you forgot."

[sillylittlegay]

Resident Evil – Oneshot [Luis Serra Navarro X GN!Reader]

Pronouns used for Reader; They/Them [2nd Person view]

Warnings; None (I think, it's just pure fluff with some sexual undertones at points)

Summary; The Reader was trying their best to just get through their and Leon's mission to save Ashley Graham, yet a certain former Umbrella researcher tries his best to get their mind off of everything happening.

Authors Notes; Luis Serra, the guy I thought would just be a side character yet I absolutely fell for him after seeing the chained up scene in its full glory.

This was partly inspired by this imagine! (It's great, read it, it's adorable.) There needs to be more Luis Serra stuff out there, he's such a sweet and interesting guy everyone pls

As always I apologize for any mistakes! I cannot speak even a tiny bit of Spanish so Google translate and other stories are my best friend for this one, do tell me if there's anything entirely wrong!

Nothing could prepare anyone for the horrors Leon and his partner had encountered in this Village. Being together definitely made things easier, but having to split everything they found was a pain. All that together with the fact that they had gotten separated so early on made you nearly call Hunnigan and tell her to leave Baby eagle to die. But you didn't. You knew you'd get through this, one way or another. All you had to do was find Leon, get Ashley and then get as far away from this place as possible.

Finding your partner however deemed as harder than you had initially thought. While you had been knocked out and chained up somewhere alone, Leon was nowhere to be seen and getting out of that hellhole was hard enough. Worse was that all your stuff was missing and once you did find it after escaping death multiple times, you had to find out that your gun was totally and absolutely broken. »Fuck this shit, I fucking hate this, I want to go back fucking home.« You cursed to yourself, hoping you'd get to Leon while only having your knife as usable weapon. You didn't even notice the Spaniard behind you, who deeply wondered how he ended up finding two Americans in one day.

»You good?« Luis asked, lifting his hands into the air when you turned around and pointed your knife at him. »Don't come closer or I'll stab you.« you slightly waved your weapon around, anxiety rising in your chest as you saw the stranger chuckle. »Hey, you know that Leon guy?« Luis asked, taking a cautious step towards the other. »I know where he is if you're searching for him.« He then added. You cursed under your breath, beginning to question just how much you could trust this random guy. »Well then, tell me where he is.« You demanded. Luis laughed softly in response. »I'm Luis, by the way, and the last time I saw your pal he was tied up with me in the old factory.« He grinned at the shorter once he realised that nothing he had just said had made sense to you. You didn't know of any old factory, nor how to get through this godforsaken village without getting murdered or heavily injured by the downright crazy Townsfolk. Not that you'd tell him that though. »I could bring you there–« Luis started, interrupted by you heavily sighing. »Absolutely no way, Luis. God knows what you're up to.« You stated, already stashing all your things away in the various pockets of your vest and hip bags. »What I'm up to? I'm no villain, mi amor.« Luis huffed, intently watching every little of your movement. »You know, I may suck at Spanish but if you ever call me that again I'm putting a bullet through your head.« You scoffed, only slightly taken aback by the strangers words. You had figured he'd be on the weirder side the moment you laid eyes on him – simply by the fact that he seemed to not be freaked out by the shit going on in this village. You didn't even notice Luis mocking "with which gun" as you already walked away from the stranger, determined to somehow find your way.

A few hours later the two of you sat in a somewhat safe house. You had taken a break from searching Leon and Luis had followed you around like a lost puppy, mostly because you didn't let him tell you where to go but he just wouldn't leave you alone either. You didn't fully mind though, the Spaniard had proven quite helpful when it came to taking out the freakish townsfolk. You were almost glad he had a gun and knew how to use it, if it wasn't for Luis' snarky remarks about how he was probably better at shooting than you were. It made your blood boil, really. But you didn't dare say anything, too scared that he might leave you to rot with only your knife to defend yourself. »You know, mi compadre, I have a good feeling about this house. We'll probably find Leon swiftly after this break.« The dark haired hummed, casually playing with his lighter. »Hope so.« You answered, absentmindedly watching the way his fingers danced around and led the small silver thing over his knuckles. It was almost captivating to watch. It was only once you heard the screams of townsfolk outside that both of you shot up, running towards the old door and immediately seeing Leon and Ashley running towards you.

Seconds later both were safely inside, though you were worried about the masses of people outside. »We must've killed hundred or something by now how the fuck are there still this many?« You grunted, already taking safety precautions and barricading the windows. »How should I know?« Leon huffed back while taking anything he found useful. »Where's your gun.« He then wondered, sounding more mad that you didn't have it on you than worried. »Got busted when they got our asses.« You answered, showing him your knife. »Only thing that kept me alive.« You added, swinging it around a bit. Luis was heard mumbling something about you being ungrateful. »Shit. You go get Ashley safe, the idiot and I are gonna handle this one. We'll get you a new gun later.« The dirty blonde Agent nodded at you, signing you to get away as fast as possible. Luis now proved useful once again, silently showing a quick way out of the cabin the four of you were trapped in, giving a quick and rather safe way outside. Together with Ashley you crawled through, praying to whatever god that was willing to listen to keep them safe.

It seemed like your prayers had been hurt, both Leon and Luis made it out safe, not a scratch on either one. You were more than glad. If one of them had gotten hurt – you're sure you wouldn't have forgiven yourself. Leon led the lot of you to a... rather shady looking merchant.. but you forgot that once you saw all the wares he sold. It almost felt like you were in heaven, surrounded by the most wonderful weapons you have ever seen. In the end though it was Leon who picked out a gun for you, as he was getting fed up with your thousands of questions on which one was shooting the fastest, reloaded the fastest and so on. The new gun now comfortably hanging in your holster, you were almost satisfied with whatever was going on. Almost – if it wasn't for a really talkative and flirty Spaniard. Luis seemed to never really stop talking, about the weather, how the gun fitted perfectly into your holster, what else would perfectly fit into your holster - the list was endless and you tried your best to ignore it. If he was only talking nonsense, you could easily do that too, but with the way he brought simple pet names and light touches into the mix you were inevitably getting more and more distracted. You had guessed someone would notice, given the fact your shooting got sloppy and you let get the townsfolk get way too close to you – luckily Luis was a knight in shining armour and helped you out, not without snarky remarks of course. »Ay, gotta be more careful, wouldn't want you to get hurt, corazon!« A crooked grin hung on the Spaniards lips. You cursed under your breath and tried your best to focus on the enemies and not Luis' pretty eyes.

Unsurprisingly, Luis had left your small group after a short while, going on his was to find some weird medical stuff for Ashley – you had been too busy staring at his lips to properly listen to whatever he had been saying. It probably hadn't been interesting for the mission anyway, you were sure. »Got something on your mind, Agent?« Leon mocked, lightly nudging your shoulder. You scoffed. »Fuck off Kennedy.«, the dirty blonde was shoved away quickly and you tried your best to keep your face from heating up. It was undeniable that Luis had an effect on you. A big one at that. Yet, for some reason, you had hoped Leon wouldn't notice – it was embarrassing enough to know it yourself. Leon chuckled at your reaction. For the short time he had known you, he already had you all figured out. Little did he know this little thing you had going on with the Spaniard was soon going to bring him to his last string of patience.

It started with the calls. Constant calling, bickering about how Luis missed you and endless teasing with non child friendly undertones. Leon could hear everything. Every giggle of yours, every single word of the Spaniard. He wished he could rip off his ears just to make it stop. It was almost hurting him that's how sugar coated the flirting of you two was. By now Leon had understood that some of your conversations with Luis would follow him into his nightmares and he tried his best to not rip the communication device from you and angrily stomp on it like a little kid that didn't get what it wanted. He composed himself. Until the two of you met Luis again, Ashley having been kidnapped yet again and you constantly giggling at Luis' words – the dirty blonde just couldn't do it. »Oh for fucks sake will you two just fuck already. It's awful hearing the two of you act like drunk teenagers.« He scoffed, leaving you and Luis rather puzzled – and embarrassed.

Luis and you stood like that for a good minute, your face red while he started laughing like a maniac. »Guess our friend isn't too fond of us, no?« The Spaniard laughed, a soft expression in his eyes as he looked at you. »His... Advice... wouldn't be the worst one, eh?« the dark haired added, evidently teasing you as you gasped and hid your reddening face in your hands. You were used to Luis' flirting, used to him being a menace, but Leon saying that wasn't something you needed today. »Settle for a nice dinner after we get out of here, Luis.« You answered through gritted teeth, embarrassment obvious in your voice as you went to catch up to Leon.

What you didn't see was the wide, goofy smile on the Spaniards face at your words. Oh just how determined he was to treat you to the best dinner you had ever had, just to see you smile and giggle.

[bre-meister]

Congratulations. I genuinely hope you do very well with your finals. Must be a relieve to be done with them. I wanted to ask whether you could do a Leon and Claire writing. Specifically like a second part to your writing when Claire was kidnapped in revelations 2. Like a reunion with Claire and Leon once she is back and they see each other again. Have a nice day!

Before we get into this fic let me just say that I have 0 idea how long Claire was gone. I searched high a low and could not find an answer. I'm guessing somewhere between like 2 weeks to a month if you consider the time it took to get them to the island, set them all up, the events of the game to take place, and who knows how long she was floating out there before she was found. I guess what I'm saying is I intentionally left the timeline vague so it's up to your interpretation. Either way, anytime without Claire for our little family is hell!

I know this is a reunion fic but angst under the cut! You have been warned!

The news of Claire’s rescue came much like that of her capture. Leon had been busy. Between work and juggling the girls at home he rarely had time to check his phone or messages. 

So much has happened since she's been gone but, at the same time, time has stood still. Leon had gotten into some sort of routine with the girls. He got them up in the morning and ready for daycare. Every once in a while Cathy Burton would come to stay for the day if Izzy was being particularly fussy about having to go to daycare. He’d go to work - mostly paperwork and training new recruits although Hunnigan has hinted at a new case coming down the pipeline that he probably wouldn’t be able to pass off to someone else. He’d deal with that when the time came. Next was pick up and dinner. Most days he didn’t have the energy or patience to cook while trying to wrangle two rowdy kids. Usually, some sort of takeout was in order. 

Chris came by often - sometimes with an update on the case and sometimes just to spend time with his nieces. Leon knew Claire’s disappearance was just as hard on Chris as it was him in many ways. The girls were both a good distraction and a great reminder of the amazing woman they were going to find. They had to find her. There wasn’t any other option.

It was one of these days where Leon was functioning in this new, hopefully temporary, normal. Trying to get a baby and an almost four-year-old to bed on his own. Baths were had and stories read and Leon was finally ready to sit down to finish some work so he could go to bed as well. He took a position in the hall outside of Isabel’s room - a tactic he’d developed to keep the little girl in her own bed. He’d stay there on his laptop for about a half hour or until he was sure she wouldn’t try to sneak out for one reason or another. His already energetic little girl was finding it hard to sleep knowing that her mommy was somewhere out there - a habit he’d been sharing with her as well. 

When he finally made it back to his own room Leon barely had enough energy to shower before collapsing on his side of the bed. He didn’t bother pulling the sheets back and getting into bed properly. He'd taken to sleeping on top of the comforter with a blanket. It may have been irrational but something about getting into bed without Claire just felt…wrong. 

He closed his eyes trying his best to get to sleep. In the back of his mind he thought he might actually accomplish this tonight considering how bone tired he was. Or, he would have if not for his phone incessantly vibrating on his nightstand. Leon had forgotten that he’d placed it there earlier in the evening. Rolling over he picked it up to a barrage of missed calls and text messages from Chris. Leon froze. If Chris had been trying to get in contact with him like this it could mean only one of two things and Leon prayed to any god out there that it wasn’t the more negative of the two. 

He was broken out of his reverie by a loud knocking at the door. Immediately he jumps into action. As he passed by his daughter’s rooms on the way to the stairs Isabelle poked her head outside her door. 

“Who is that, Daddy?”

“I don’t know, Princess. Go back to your bed, ok? I’ll come tuck you back in when i’m done.”

Izzy didn’t look convinced but the promise of another story assuaged her enough to head back into her bed. Leon waits until the door closes and is sent running down the stairs at another round of knocking - this time more insistent. 

He peeps through the blinds to see who is pounding away at his door at such an hour and is surprised by what he sees.

“Jill?” His voice is understandably confused as he opens the door and ushers her in.

“I came as soon as Chris called. He said you weren’t answering so I thought I should just drive over here.”

“It’s Claire isn’t it? Is she -” his voice breaks, “please tell me she’s…”

Jill’s genuine smile is all he needs to know. He’s crying and hugging her before he can stop himself. When he realizes what he’s doing he pulls away quickly, suddenly remembering that Jill doesn't really appreciate people encroaching on her personal space without asking. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know -”

“It’s ok Leon. I understand.” She pulls him back into another hug.

After a moment, Jill gives Leon the location of the facility where Claire is currently being treated. She urges him to go. He protests slightly. He just got the girls to bed he can’t leave right now.

“I already thought of that,” Jill says as she motions to a small duffel by the door he hadn’t noticed earlier, “you’re gonna want to take some time with her and make sure she’s ready before you bring the girls into that situation. And I can help prep them from this end too.”

“You’re right. I need to grab some stuff first - clothes, my phone. And Izzy! I have to talk to her. She was still up when you knocked and I promised her an extra story to get her to go back to bed. I have to talk to her before I leave. And -”

“Leon!” Jill grabs his shoulders and forces him to end his rant, “Take your time. Do what you need to do, ok? She’s safe now. She’s not going anywhere.”

So that’s what he does. He packs a small bag quickly - a skill acquired over the years of having to pack up and leave at a moment's notice. He creeps into Olivia’s room to make sure she’s still asleep before going next door to tackle the difficult obstacle that is his eldest daughter.

When he explains the situation, Izzy is out of bed and running to get her shoes and coat to come with him in seconds. As much as he knows it’s going to break her, he tells her she can’t come.

“But… I wanna see Mommy!” her lip starts to quiver and her eyes water. 

Leon encourages her to come closer. When she's within reach, he picks her up and places her on his lap.

“I know, princess. But Mommy needs a little time to get better before everyone can see her, ok? There are a lot of doctors making sure that she's going to be back with us as soon as possible and that means she can’t have a lot of people around right now. So I'm going to go make sure the doctors do their job and aunt Jill is going to stay here with you.”

He can tell Izzy isn’t happy about the situation but she doesn't push the issue either. Intesead, she quietly asks to get tucked in before he leaves and Leon happily obliges.

“I’ll try to come back tomorrow and check on you guys but while I'm gone I need you to help Aunt Jill look after Livy. Can you do that for me?” Leon asks.

“Uh huh,” she answers quietly.

“I love you, princess,” Leon kisses her head.

“I love you too, Daddy,” her eyes are already drooping before she finishes her sentence.

______

When Leon walks into the heavily guarded facility Jill directed him to, he's immediately concerned. He has to flash his DSO credentials to get through the front door and is then instructed to wait for Chris to come to fetch him. 

“What’s going on?” he asks as soon as he sees the burly man round the corner, “Why is she here and not in a hospital? You and I both know she's going to need medical attention”

“And she’s getting it. The best of the best. But she also needs to be quarantined.”

“What do you mean quarantine?”

Chris fills him in on everything. On TerraSave and Neil Fisher. On the virus that Claire and the others were infected with. The fact that most of the people she’d be stolen away with died on the island they were kept on. Claire had an antidote and she was going to be fine but protocol stated she needed to be quarantined for a little. He is given permission to speak with her through a wall of glass. He’s warned that she's still weak and recovering - it might be hard to see her like this. And Chris tells him her mental state is even worse.

“Moira didn't make it out. She blames herself for not being able to protect her the most, really beating herself up over it.” 

“Oh,” is all Leon can muster. 

He feels several emotions at once. Relief that his wife was one of the few who did make it back. Sadness that Barry is probably somewhere mourning the loss of his daughter right now. Guilt that he's here celebrating that he isn’t in a similar situation. And fear. He hates to admit it but, he’s scared he may have celebrated too soon. Claire may physically be here, safe. But Leon isn’t dumb to think that everything is going to go back to normal. She experienced horrors on that island. He’d be more worried if she was acting unscathed. 

When he finally sees her, he doesn't know what to say. She’s laying in a hospital bed hooked up to a bunch of wires and machines all monitoring various things. She looks small, malnourished. When they finally make eye contact, her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. 

“Hi,” she says, voice staticy through the speakers.

“Hi,” he says back, voice shaky. 

He wishes so deeply that he could hold her in his arms and he voices as much to her.

“Me too,” she says, “I could really use some of your strength and goofy optimism right now.”

Leon hasn’t felt like that guy in so long. The type of guy who can joke and laugh in the face of danger. Who believes that everything will work itself out as long as he sticks to his guns and does what he knows to be right. After all, he did just that and ended up with his wife taken from him - left alone to raise their two daughters. But she’s back now. He won’t have to do it on his own. And for Claire, he puts on a smile and prays that it seems genuine.

“Soon,” he says, “and I'll never let you go again. Although I might have to fight Izzy for that honor though.”

“Claire smiles for the first time. A real smile. Then, as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. She breaks down in tears. Leon tries to talk her through it but he doesn't think he’s much help.

“I left her there. I couldn’t save her. She’s probably dead. God Leon, what if it was one of our daughters? What if it were Izzy or Liv? I can’t look him in the eyes knowing I left his daughter there to rot!”

She’s in full hysterics but Leon knows the man she speaks of is Barry. He can’t blame her. Can’t tell her that what she’s feeling is wrong because if it were him, he would feel the same. He tries to tell her as much - that it’s ok to feel that way and that he knows Barry won’t blame her. In the end, an orderly dressed head to toe in protective gear comes in to sedate her. He feels like he should be upset at that but honestly, he’s glad that she can get some rest even if he knows it will probably be fitful. 

______

After a few days, Claire is moved to a lower security area of the facility. She is no longer in quarantine and the motley crew of survivors they call a family take turns coming to visit her. When Barry makes his appearance, Leon steps into the hall to give the two some privacy. He can hear both of them crying together through the door. When he comes back in after Barry leaves, he notes that Claire at least looks a bit better. She is still definitely haunted by the events that took place on that island but she doesn't seem to be as weighed down as she was before. 

“We’re going to find her,” she says in that determined way she’s known for.

“I know you will. And I'm right here to help and support you. Whatever you need.” 

She smiles and him - really smiles at him. For the first time since she got back, Leon feels like it might all end up alright. There’s a long road ahead of them, probably with a ton of bumps and detours, but he knows that in the end, they’ll find their new normal. Because there is no going back to the old normal.

__

When the girls are finally reunited with their mother, Clare is still in the hospital but she has recovered significantly. She no longer has a myriad of machines taking up space around her bed and most of her injuries have begun to truly heal. 

Seeing Isabel run to her mother fills his heart with a joy he didn’t know existed. He couldn’t imagine being in Barry’s shoes. Even the thought of never being able to see either of his daughters again would ruin him.

Izzy and Claire are both crying. Oliva, who is held in his arms, looks almost confused at the situation but nevertheless reaches out for her mother when she hears her voice. Leon wouldn’t dare come between Claire and the girls. He stands back and lets them all have a moment together.

Olivia's babbles are the only sound filling the room until Isabel finally breaks the silence.

“I missed you Mommy! Don’t go away again!”

“I won’t, baby. I promise. Not for a while.” Claire is clinging onto Izzy just as desperately as Izzy is to her. Maybe even more.

“No! Never!”

“I…” Claire trails off not really knowing how to answer. She looks to Leon for help.

He crouches down until he’s at their level. Putting a hand on his eldest daughter’s back he speaks words he knows she will not like but still need to be said.

“She can’t promise never, Izzy. I can’t either. That’s our jobs, remember? We talked about this a while ago. Mommy isn't going to go anywhere for a good while but eventually, she might have to leave for a little bit but she’ll always come back.”

“Always?” she asks, and Leon knows she's speaking to both of them.

“Always” they both agree.

Leon knows they probably shouldn’t have. Who knows what the future holds. In their line of work, they could never make promises like that. You never knew what the next day could bring. But, just like that night when he was at his lowest, as Leon looked at his family, finally complete again, he felt ok feeding Izzy this one lie. It would help her sleep better at night, even if it meant more sleepless nights for himself.

[winksasleeplesseye]

File #011 - Epilogue

City of the Dead

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x OC

Word Count: 5.5k

Summary: Having escaped Raccoon City, Amara, Leon, and Sherry now face their next biggest obstacle: the US Government. Deals are made, and lives are forever changed, but not without one last goodbye, for now.

Warnings: a tad bit of talk about religious trauma, some violence

Previous Chapter

The start of October started like any other October. Except for the four people who stood outside of Alien Coffee Motel. A chill came through the air that wasn’t there only hours ago. Leon and Amara stood back as Claire gave her goodbyes to Sherry. 

It was kind of inevitable that Claire would continue on her original path. Finding Chris was what she came to do and nothing could steer her otherwise. Amara understood that innate need to look after her sibling despite the disaster of a call she tried to make last night, had she been in Claire’s position, she’d searched high and low for Monet if she couldn’t find her. 

Maybe post….this, after she’d gathered more of her thoughts, she could give her another call.

Chris had rarely divulged all the parts of his life to Amara, but she knew that Claire was all he had. In that aspect, she envied that. Well, not the orphans part but the closeness that comes from relying on one another, Claire seemed the type to walk through fire for anybody but especially for Chris. 

“I’ll be back, I promise,” She hugged Sherry one last time. 

She walks over to Amara and Leon, an almost sad smile on her face. The former doesn’t hesitate to pull her in for a hug. “I’m sure you’ll find him, stay safe, alright?” Amara said, still clinging to her. 

“Same to you. All three of you.”

“Sherry is in good hands, trust me,” Leon reassured her. They waved her off, watching her walk away until she became a speck against the horizon from the direction they came from. 

Amara sighs. “I really hope she’ll be alright.” 

“Don’t worry, she’s tough. You both are,” Leon takes hold of her hand, his other holding Sherry’s hand. “Come on.” 

—-

They walked and walked for what felt like hours, a slight but earthy, balanced scent wafted the air. There was a definite undertone of car exhaust and skunk too. Helicopters flew by every few minutes. Cars sped past them, sending particles of dust and dirt toward them. A shiver ran down Amara’s exposed skin. Yeah, it’s definitely October. 

There is something about it that calmed Amara. Except for the exhaust and skunk, those were gross.

Abraham gave her a map of the city and the surrounding area. If she was right, if they kept on this way, they'd make it back near the other side of RC soon enough. 

A sinking feeling sat in her gut, but it was more like a rock. It wasn’t like they could even begin to discuss it all, Leon somehow seemed to pick up on that from her. Their brief, shared glances held more than just a simple look when Sherry asked them anything about the situation. It was better, in the long run, to protect Sherry from their side of the story, considering what Claire told them about the orphanage and Irons (out of Sherry’s earshot, of course), she didn’t need to shoulder the burden of two adults. 

Amara still needed to fucking shoulder it herself first anyway. Then there was Leon. 

In the morning, they got dressed, unmussing everything that had been mussed–in better-fitting clothes, thanks to Tabitha–and ate their first real meal in what had been days for Amara. The small boxes of stale Lucky Charms and one day out-of-date 1% milk were like a five-star dish to her stomach, that was for damn sure. The silence between them this time was more comfortable but there was a nagging inside her to ask him what this made them. 

Everything was a mess, and yet she was worried about labels. Shit, she needed to have her priorities straight. 

They had words for this sort of thing.

A few of them she liked while others annoyed her. What occurred over the course of those hours forged something that made them look past the banalities of life and the trivial decisions that come with it. No one else would probably ever understand the tough choices they all made within the depths of that lab, a shared trauma if she ever knew one. And then last night, Amara physically connected further with Leon in a way she hadn’t in a while with anyone. 

So she didn’t want to ignore it forever. Ignore the feelings he had pulled from her that left her feeling like time was yielding and all her dreams came true. 

She picked up on Leon’s silence as well. The last thing he’d really said was back at the motel, he seemed in deep thought since then. Amara wondered if he was thinking about things just as much as she was, she half expected him to utter at least one silly thing like the cheeseball he’d been occasionally down in the lab whilst they walked but she could definitely understand why he wasn’t. 

Thirty minutes went by before another set of cars broke over the horizon. In the middle of a particularly child-friendly conversation about adopting pets between Sherry and Amara.

“Hey, look!” Sherry pointed ahead of them. “Maybe they can give us a ride?”

Amara squinted into the distance, trying her damnedest to make out what the cars looked like. They were nothing but a blurry mirage, taunting her with their mystery. All she could tell was that they seemed a bit more uniform than your average line of cars, and maybe a tad bigger. But then again, what did she know? Probably just her imagination running wild.

As they got closer, she noticed the dark green of the paint, the boxy shape of the cars, those weren’t just regular cars. They were military. A convoy. Humvees, if she wanted to be more technical. Had Leon been right? 

She had known them like the back of her hand, seen plenty of them on bases before but they usually weren’t in motion. Not going that fast. Especially towards her. 

The trio stopped short in their tracks, Amara got closer to Leon, talking in a hushed tone. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

He looked at her, eyes darting between the cars and Sherry. Speaking up for the first time in a while, “It’ll be alright.” He squeezes her hand reassuringly. 

Amara smiles at that; she can’t help it. Smiling at him had become something like muscle memory to her: “I sure hope so,” she said, and for a moment she truly believed it. She believed that the convoy that had descended upon them would be their saving grace. That everything would be alright just because Leon said it would be. 

Guns. Shouts. Screams. 

At them. 

Guns pointing at them. 

The situation turned on a dime that made Amara dizzy. 

Heavily armed soldiers surrounded them in the blink of an eye. “Get on your knees, hands on your head!” One of the soldiers barked. All three complied, knowing that any sudden movements could be interpreted as a threat. 

Amara is sure her heart would leap out of her throat from how hard it was beating but she couldn’t show that. Even the slightest bit of fear is enough for misinterpretation for these assholes. 

She knew there was a reason she hated military types. Yes, even though she is also one in some regard. Even out and about or on nights out with Jill, they had—have a superiority complex and the need to do entirely too much. 

This display would go on her list as one of those instances. 

One of the soldiers, sidearm trained on them, held some weird device in his hand. He seemed hesitant to use it. 

“Where did you come from?” He asked, not putting down his gun for even a second.

“Raccoon City,” Amara answered, trying to keep her voice calm. “We were just trying to get out, get away from the outbreak is all.” 

The soldier, even behind a face covering, looked skeptical. “And where do you think you’re going?” 

Amara holds back the smart ass remark at the tip of her tongue, lest she gives the soldier more reasons to hit them in the head with the butt of his gun. She’d been holding back quite a lot of them as of late. 

“We were actually trying to find you,” Leon said. “Guess you found us instead.” 

The soldier, not appreciative of Leon’s words, pressed the device into the back of their necks. Starting with Leon. A green light popped up on the screen. “No infection detected,” an almost pleasant robotic voice announced. 

Shit.

Fuck. 

Shit. 

This is not going to turn out well. The second that device hits either her or Sherry’s neck. They’d know exactly what they are. Infected. Regardless of the cure and antiviral flowing through their blood, it couldn’t take away what had entered their system. 

The national guard must’ve been sent out in the aftermath of the outbreak to patrol surrounding cities, it’s the only logical conclusion that Amara can come to while staring down the barrels of semi-automatic rifles. 

Amara’s hazel eyes slowly settle on Leon. 

She finds his eyes already on her. The tension radiates off him in droves. 

There was no escaping this. The soldier held her firmly in place, she felt the cold prick of a needle briefly poke her flesh. She didn’t even hear the confirmation of what she already knew before they jerked her up on her feet. “They’re infected! Detain them now!” 

Sherry’s screams, tears, and look of sheer terror as they drag her away from both Amara and Leon are ones that she knows she’ll never rid herself of, she tries to fight to escape their grasp even as their vice grip on both her arms is unbreakable in her current state, digging their gear into her back and making it hard to breathe. 

She knows Sherry couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from them. They were all she had. 

“What the hell?” Leon shouts, he tries to rise to his feet but finds a soldier knocks him off balance, knocking the breath out of him momentarily, sending him right back down to the ground. “We just survived a damn zombie outbreak and…and this is how we’re treated…?” 

“Please don’t separate us,” Amara pleaded, even as she tried her hardest to drag her feet against the dirt, hoping to prolong the inevitable. “We’ve just been through hell, we can’t be separated now, please.” 

“Orders are orders,” one of the soldiers replied coldly. “Everyone is being detained until further notice.” 

So much for everything being alright. 

—-

“Your protocols, your orders—whatever—are bullshit, I just want you to know that,” Leon speaks out into the dark, a lone, yellowish light hung over his head and dust particles float in the air. He can just barely make out what is definitely a camcorder on the other side of the glass a few feet in front of him, judging by the lens. 

“Don’t note that for the record,” A man speaks over an intercom. He rolls his eyes, arms crossed over his chest, waiting for whatever comes next. 

He never usually was one to disrespect authority figures, holding them in high regard because they do something most others couldn’t handle, but after the display he’d seen with Amara and Sherry? 

Tough fucking luck getting any respect out of him. 

Leon’s leg had been bouncing nervously ever since he sat down, he’d been a clusterfuck since they’d detained them just outside…was it Crescent Springs? He never caught the exact name. 

All he knew was he wanted to kick his own goddamn ass for barely putting up more of a fight back there; but what exactly could he do against a bunch of armed soldiers? He was screwed over from the start. 

Jesus. 

Pfft. As if he was gonna do any good now. 

This was his figurative cross to bear. All that’s missing was the stakes. If his mother could hear him thinking like that, she’d have probably given him a light smack on his head and a punishment of soap in his mouth.

He tended to avoid Dial soap any chance he got now.

“Mr. Kennedy.” The same voice from before broke him out of his thoughts. “We have the authority to do as we please with you. And the girls.” 

There’s a sick twist in his gut at those words. Just what exactly did that entail? Becoming lab rats for the government for the rest of their lives? Killing him? Fuck that. 

“Leave them out of this, they’re innocents.” 

“Innocents who carry G antibodies. Don’t worry they’re receiving the best of care.”

“And what of me, then? Don’t suppose I have any value to you.” He doubts they’d keep a cop with only one day of experience under their watch. Leon’s thoughts gravitated towards thinking he’d outlived his usefulness more and more.

“Oh, but, Mr. Kennedy, you do. More than you think.” The man states plainly. “Bottom line is, you have the experience we’re looking for.” 

He wouldn’t exactly count surviving a zombie-infested city by the skin of his teeth as experience, probably just some great goddamn luck. “And if I say no?” 

“Considering you care so much about the girls…I’d think it’s in your best interest to accept this offer, should you not want any harm to come to them.” 

He can’t help his eyes as they set in a glare at those words. Is he threatening him? He wanted to be defiant, and go through with saying no but he feels like he knows the alternative. They’d deem them all as having outlived their usefulness, they certainly had no qualms about getting rid of two infected individuals 

They’d kill him. 

Kill Amara. 

Kill Sherry. 

And that was something he couldn’t live with. What good could he do to protect them from such a cruel fate if he was six feet under? 

Leon could be the buffer. The thing that is between them and living their life under a microscope. 

Shit. 

He’d do it to keep them safe. A little price to pay for their freedom. 

“So, if  you want this to end peacefully…you really only have one choice. Work with us.” 

—-

Amara hates hospitals. She hates them so fucking much, she can’t really put it into words whenever anyone asked her to explain herself. Well, hate is a strong word. Dislike is the safer word to use here. But could anyone blame her? Everything was so glaringly white and depressing. And the smell? The hand sanitizer, sterile packaging, coffee, floor cleaner, a hint of blood and fear. All of it combined just gave Amara a headache.

Hospitals are where most bad news was received. A doctor’s office at least tried to make the experience a little less depressing, though Amara’s positive, the colors of puke green and boring beige were now forever ruined for her, not that they weren’t already. 

Anxiety seeped into every aspect of Amara’s life, one physical manifestation being her newest habit, nail biting. She couldn’t exactly help it, being separated from Leon and Sherry and surrounded by doctors in hazmat suits didn’t help to relieve her nerves. The S.T.A.R.S. Team would surely be surprised to see the state she’s in, all of them were mostly level headed—utmost professionals in their respective roles but all of the new developments Amara had been through made her shake like a dog hearing fireworks on Fourth of July. 

She just wanted, goddamnit, for once to not be poked and prodded, examined under a microscope like she was in a Petri dish. She certainly missed Leon too. 

As she already knew, she’d been infected by William Birkin. So was Sherry. The scientists and the doctors didn’t let her forget that fact. They both carried G antibodies and so far, those effects were yet to be seen. She’d yet to see any government agents but she’s positive she’s seen them from the other side of the glass, observing, waiting for the right time to talk to her. That, or take her out, her two options didn’t scream that one or the other were the lesser of two evils. 

The right time by their standards happened to be today. Just as she’d gotten halfway through a bout of wallowing in self pity, something new for her.

“Miss Moore, I hope the staff have been treating you well?” One of the agents asks her. Graves is on their name tag pinned to their suit jacket. 

Amara fights a strong urge to roll her eyes. If this was the staff’s version of well, she shuddered to think what their bad treatment was. She shrugs before answering, “It’s been fine, can’t complain, can I?”

“You could, though I’m not sure anyone would listen,” the other agent answers, seemingly trying to lighten the mood. “I’m Agent Garcia, and this is Agent Graves. I’m sure you have a lot of questions. We also have a lot, as well as apologies for the scene back in the city.” 

“Apologies not accepted. Do you enjoy further traumatizing little girls?” The picture of Sherry’s face, covered in fear, wouldn’t leave her mind. 

“Look, we had to be sure—“

Amara cuts him off, her voice a bit more biting than she’d like. “We weren’t zombies? I don’t know how many people you’ve seen in your life but we are very much intact.” 

Agent Garcia seems to chuckle, Agent Graves seems unimpressed with her rage, a glare morphing into an arrogant smirk, tilting his head curiously at her.

“Miss Moore, you seem to think you hold any position of leverage in how this conversation is going to go.”

Yeah, she fucking hates this guy. 

“Don’t I?” 

Amara is not at all shocked at what Graves is implying. She returns a sickeningly sweet smile back at him, though on the inside, she’s cursed him out many times over. Surviving Raccoon City was no easy feat, but it was a tad naive on her part to think the government would just let them go after everything. But this Graves guy thought he held all the chips in play, he was sadly mistaken. 

“Well—“ Garcia starts to say, but his partner quickly cuts him off, a quick wave of his hand in front of him that pisses Amara off. He must be a real hit at parties. 

“You and the girl carry G antibodies. We can do whatever we please with the both of you, you know that, right?”

“She’s an innocent. Leave her out of this.” 

“Don’t worry, they’re going to take good care of her.” 

“And what of Mr. Kennedy?” It felt strange using such a formality for Leon, but they didn’t deserve to hear his name from her lips. 

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about either of them. You need to be more concerned with your next steps.” 

“What? You going to kill me now?”

“Oh no, you’re far more useful to us alive. The doctors tell us that the G in your system has made you far more resilient than any human, in fact, we couldn’t kill you that easily if we tried.” The grin Graves wears is slimy, she feels gross just being witness to it. “You have the makings of an agent, seeing as you were a…STARS operative, was it?” 

“Yes.” 

“Everything else is figured out. All that really leaves is you…if you want this to end on good terms, the choice is simple unless you’d like to spend the rest of your life in a lab.” 

Her mind drifted when faced with an ultimatum. When this all began, she thought things would be simple…in a more perfect world, maybe they would’ve been. 

The case would’ve been cut and dry. But then Roslynn unknowingly—in extension, maybe John too—had brought Amara into something that was way above her pay grade, her capacity to handle. 

One woman—team—up against a whole corporation, and a cover up. That was damn near impossible. 

Now her own government wanted her to work with them but not on the merit of her skills (despite what Graves said), but because if anymore got out about Raccoon City, it’d paint them in such a light that they’d never recover from. 

She got into this for a reason, this line of work was never going to be a walk in the park. When faced with the other alternative, the metaphor of the Petri dish looked more and more terrifying. A life lived under a microscope, being poked and prodded, watched essentially like a spectacle was no life at all. 

Christ, she didn’t want that for herself nor Sherry. They hadn’t asked for this. 

This was the better option, strategically. 

Not to mention, keeping Sherry and Leon safe. No doubt she’d work out those conditions later but doing this secured their safety, right? 

Fighting the people who did this to her and continue to do this to others made it more than worth it. But there’d be a cost. There always was.

—-

October 5, 1998. 

It’d been a few days, the colors of fall had become more and more obvious to everyone. The vibrant reds, oranges, and yellow blended together to make what most would call the most beautiful time of year, not only that, but the weather dropped significantly. 

Leon would’ve liked to be happy about the change in weather but something about it reminded him too much of what had only transpired only days ago. The freezing, torrential downpour and the chill in the air aren’t nice at all. Another part of him still couldn’t actually believe that it was only days ago and yet life still moved on, a jarring reminder that outside of Raccoon City, most were unaware of it all. 

He wished he could be like them. Blissfully ignorant, numb to it all. With time, he’d probably get good at that. Going blank, thinking of nothing because it was so fucking much to think of everything. 

Leon clung tighter to his jacket, he probably should’ve opted for something heavier as the wine was like a blunt force against his face. 

His eyes were on a constant swivel. Technically, he should've been in training but the second he even got word from his “new” superiors and clearance, he knew he wanted to see her. See them both. Still, he couldn’t help but have that bundle of nerves twisting in his stomach. 

Things moved so quick after he agreed to be part of their program. Agreed isn’t the right word—more like coerced—but he really didn’t want to dwell on it further.

The military hospital sat a little outside New York City. It served civilians and servicemen alike. Mothers and their children sat in the waiting room, men in their uniforms filling out paperwork, a couple of nurses were doing triage and checking in patients at a mobile desk.  

It teemed with more personnel today, Leon looked out of place in his jeans and T-shirt. 

“Uh, hi,” Leon greeted the receptionist at the desk with a small smile, she looked up at him briefly before going back to her computer. “I’m here to see Amara Moore? And Sherry Birkin?”

The whole room paused. Well, at least it felt that way. His words definitely made the receptionist give her full attention.

“Mr. Kennedy?” 

He nodded in response. 

“If you’ll give me just a moment, it’s protocol for that department to go through a few hoops, I’ll be right back, alright?” 

Protocol. He’d become so fucking tired of hearing that word.

“Of course, I’ll take a seat then,” Leon dropped unceremoniously in the nearest chair as the receptionist stepped away to presumably call whoever she needed to call. 

Leon lets the sounds of the conversations around him and the announcements over the intercom become background noise to his thoughts.

Considering now that it’s a waiting game. And he hates waiting. He just wants to see after everything, is that so hard? The red tape and hoops to jump through just to sit down and talk to someone. 

He had been thinking about that night at the motel more than he liked to admit. He wasn’t kidding with himself when he thought himself to be a late bloomer, he wasn’t a virgin by any means but he certainly was a bit inept when it came to sex. 

It didn’t help that his parents raised him on the tenets of their faith. Which meant no sex before marriage, no drinking, no swearing, no taking the Lord’s name in vain. Anything of that nature is pretty much deemed unholy and impure. Expected to be living in one set way because God has a plan for all of them. God forbid they’d miss a church service or forever be the shame of the neighborhood. 

He’d long abandoned it. He’d long been a sinner anyways. Not exactly sure that a benevolent, loving God would have a plan to let someone suffer this much. Putting his faith in others is still a mixed bag but that was for another day. 

Amara was just about the sweetest taste of sin he’d ever had, skin as smooth as silk and lips as sweet as honey. 

As far as worship, he’d kneel at the altar of Amara Moore in communion as long as she’d let him. 

Ineptitude, notwithstanding. 

But, right now, he just wants them to hurry up…this bag of food hidden in his jacket can’t hold out much longer. He isn’t sure she’ll be able to eat it with all the rules but he thinks she probably needs some normalcy. 

Well, as normal as one could get. Completely normal left the realm of possibility when everything came to light. 

“Mr. Kennedy?” He looks up to find a doctor standing by the desk. 

Here goes something. 

—-

Amara really wants to just get out of here. Ever since Graves and Garcia left, she’d been waiting on word about transport. She hasn’t seen Sherry either, she really hopes she’s alright. 

The hospital door slides open, Amara doesn’t have it in her to even want to see who it is. Probably another damn nurse, another damn doctor. 

“You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to be a smuggler around these parts.” 

A bag drops between her legs, leaving a dent in the blanket. A greasy, brown crinkled bag that reeked of high-fat high sodium cheesy goodness. In more simple terms, a cheeseburger. 

Amara looks over to Leon. He’s dressed more casual and way cleaner than she’d seen him. Still as dreamy as ever. 

“You’re a real sight for sore eyes, handsome,” Tears begin to form, blurring her vision just a bit. Leon looks less clear, more splotchy. She doesn’t want something as silly as tears to block her view of Leon but a burst of joy swelled in her chest. She pushes down the surge of emotion as Leon places a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“If I knew junk food makes you cry like this, I’d—“ 

“No, no, thank you, thank you for this!” She opens the bag and, to hell with being ladylike, stuffs her face. 

The taste on her tongue is better than anything. Better than the bland MREs they’d been giving her, she’d suffered enough of those for 15 years. 

Between bites, she gestures for Leon to sit down, using the napkins in the bag to wipe her eyes. He sits carefully on the bed across from her. 

“Hope…you don’t think I’m apologizing for…this,” Amara jokes, moving herself from underneath the hospital covers. At least she’d had the sense to put on the sweatpants they gave her. 

“I wouldn’t want you to, even if you tried.” He still looks at her as if she’d hung the moon and the stars in the sky, even as he wipes the dribble of the ketchup that ran down the side of her mouth. “How are you doing?”

She cleans up her mess, focusing solely on Leon now. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I asked you first.” 

“I asked you second.” 

He chuckles, “I’m doing fine, all things considered.” 

“Well now that you’ve told me that, I can say I’m surviving. A little better now that you’re here,” she takes his hand, taking it to her lips to kiss it briefly. There’s a short silence before Amara asks him about something she’d been thinking about a lot of for the past few days. 

“So…uh, did you see about Racc-“ 

There’s a pained expression on his face as he cuts her off. “Yeah.” 

By October 1, the very day they’d been detained, the situation in Raccoon City had become uncontrollable, and for some reason, the President of the United States authorized the bombing of the city. No hope of any survivors. Except them.

Her whole life in the city now burned to ashes, reduced to nothing. Leon’s promise of new life there too. 

“Guess I can finally say this….thank you, Leon.” She’s not sure if that’s something he wants to hear but she says it anyway. He had to know that his efforts weren’t unnoticed despite it all. 

He shakes his head in disagreement. “I don’t think you should be thanking me.”

“Why not? You did save my life, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but look at where we are now…if I had known this would’ve been the outcome…” Leon sighs, running a hand through his hair. She imagines if he’d been standing, he’d pace the floor. 

She gets exactly where he’s coming from. All too well actually. From escaping the city to now, this was certainly the last thing she’d ever expected. But this is how things were now and they had to learn to live with it. 

She places a hand on his leg, bringing his attention back to her. “Leon, fucked up circumstances aside, you saved me from something way worse. With a bullet in your shoulder, no less. If it weren’t for you or Claire, both Sherry and I would have turned into monsters. We’d have been dead. You have to give yourselves some credit, at least.” 

“I know, but—“

“Things look like shit right now, I know.” A wistful expression stole its way onto Amara’s face. “But—look, I don’t know what those G-men told you about me or even if they made you any promises or whatever, but I’d like to think right now we both made decisions that sucked but in the end…they’re right.” 

If Amara was being honest with herself, it hurt to even say that. The toughest decisions never did make anyone feel like a million bucks. 

Leon looks as though he could break into a million pieces, looking the way she felt. If she could read his mind she’s sure she’d hear him thinking the same as she was. I don’t want them to be right, I’d wish we made the wrong choices.

“None of this is ideal. But on the bright side, I can eventually tell the government to go fuck itself, right?” Amara attempts to lighten the mood, but Leon still holds just about the saddest look in his eye as he tries to laugh. 

“This is a goodbye, isn’t it?” Leon asks, holding her face in his hands. His thumbs running over her cheeks briefly. She smiles only for a moment, there was no really insulting his intelligence. 

Amara had long known she hated goodbyes. They were too final. She’d dealt with so many before, they’d left a bad taste in her mouth so she never made it a point to say it. She didn’t even know what the future held for Leon or for herself but she didn’t want to just assume the worst, she wanted to hold onto the small sliver of hope that while it seemed their paths were diverging, they’d cross again. 

“Never. I don’t believe in goodbyes, you should know that about me,” Amara responded, placing her forehead against his. “Just think of this as a see you later, how does that sound?” 

“That sounds…perfect to me, Amara.” He sighed again. “Really perfect.” He kissed her softly, then kissed her again with a fervor, making it more than clear he’d been trying to savor the taste of her. Amara was doing the same, wrapping herself around him, not caring where they were as the world faded away even for just a moment. 

The door slid open once again, signaling that the real world had come crashing back in. She pulled away from Leon slowly, drinking in every single part of him, his eyes, his face…everything. 

She didn’t want to forget a single detail. 

“You should get going.…I love you,” she whispered the one crucial thing she’d been holding onto since the lab, and kissed him once again. “I love you. I love you.”

“I love you, too. I love you so much.” He peeled himself reluctantly away from her, heading toward the door, towards Graves and Garcia as they watched the scene in front of them. “I’ll see you later.” 

“I know,” she called, watching him head out the door before she finally burst into tears.

Little did they know, their sense of timing would be so different from one another. 

[phantatrix]

Ghoul! Bruno One Shot

[In the aftermath of a fight with another ghoul, Bruno wrestles with a difficult choice]

Bruno Buccellati led an unusual life, but he wasn’t one to complain. Even when this unusual life knocked him down, he found some sort of opportunity to make the most of it. He’d been doing this ever since he was born. The world wasn’t too kind to people like him but home was the one place where he could find reprieve from the hardships his existence brought him. From the moment he was brought into the world, he knew he’d have a more difficult path, but it wasn’t all bad. 

Being half-human wasn’t all bad.

His mother was a ghoul and his father a human. Bruno liked to imagine their love was like a fairytale. Growing up, seeing his parents swoon for each other and balance their different lifestyles, his heart would swell with joy knowing he was a result of that powerful kind of love. Even when they separated, he still held onto his idealized views of romance. If a human and a ghoul could find love in spite of the odds, then that kind of love was bound to happen for him. Maybe that was the hopeless romantic in him talking, maybe he was just hopeless.

That hopelessness grew over the next several years following his allegiance to Passione. He kept his ghoul identity a secret and he was proud to say that he could pass very well as a human. It would appear that having a stand helped keep up the illusion-- little did anyone know that you didn’t need to be human to have a stand. As long as he could keep that up, maybe he had a chance for some semblance of a normal life. Yet, deep down, Bruno knew that love couldn’t flourish in a life like this. Day in and day out, he could feel himself growing numb to the murders and deaths happening in the community around him, some of which were his own doing. A mindless soldier doing what it took to survive.

When he began forming his own team, his frozen heart started to beat once more. First, Fugo made Bruno discover his own paternal instincts. The kid, whether he realized this or not, taught him empathy again. Bruno made damn sure to try his best to be a positive influence in Fugo’s life. His temper was as volatile as they came but over time, the kid relaxed and trusted him more and more. Then Leone, poor Leone, began to wrestle his way into his heart and carved out a space for himself from the moment he found him in the rain, drunk and depressed. The two of them combined gave Bruno hope, hope that he could care for people again, hope that he wouldn’t stay numb from Passione’s cruelty, hope that he could have his own little family. The three of them were family.

Along came Narancia, who made Bruno’s heart hurt from the state he saw him in. Fugo had found him dumpster-diving for any scrap of food and then discovered his condition was far worse. Bruno helped get him treatment for his eye and ever since, that kid refused to leave his side in spite of his warnings. Still, he couldn’t say he was entirely disappointed in Narancia’s decision; in fact, part of him was glad he could take him into his makeshift family. 

If any of them knew what he really was, god, he couldn’t bear to imagine what would happen. 

When he needed to, Bruno would sneak out of their little apartment in search of food for himself. On the rare occasions that either Fugo or Narancia or Leone would catch him entering or almost leaving the apartment, he had a slew of possible alibis that didn’t make them bat an eye. Whew. Lying to them wasn’t fun but it hurt a lot less than revealing the truth.

He never liked hunting but he had no other options presented to him. He couldn’t starve himself, no, that definitely wasn’t an option. One time he had put off eating for so long that he felt his own sanity and self-control slipping. No no no. He couldn’t risk hurting his family by doing something so careless again. 

One god-awful night, that risk turned into an all-too-real possibility. 

This is where our story begins.

Bruno curled up into a fetal position, hidden away in some alley, assaulted by the rain. Tears melted with the raindrops and rolled off his face. His clothes soaked in his own blood. His eyelids weighed heavily and he wasn’t sure if he could stay conscious for too much longer. His family would be worried sick if he wasn’t home soon.

Dammit.

It would be worse if any one of them found him like this. 

Dammit.

His brilliant blue and crimson red eyes couldn’t make out any of the shapes around him, his kagune positioned itself defensively in case that other ghoul came back to finish him off. He doubted it but he couldn’t be too sure.

Dammit.

How was he supposed to know he would run into that asshole of a ghoul tonight? It’s not like he was looking for a fight. He was just trying to hunt for some goddamn food to hold onto his sanity. Despite his own warning to himself, he’d been careless. The past month and half had been so busy for him that he simply didn’t make the time to eat until tonight. Faking eating human food also didn’t help his case but it does work wonders in keeping up appearances. The sound of footsteps against the wet concrete pulled Bruno out of his wandering mind.

Fuck.

The absolute last person he wanted to see him like this. Long, lilac hair plastered against his face, obscured by the shadow of a dark umbrella. His shoes splashed little puddles in their wake from the far end of the alley. His eyes, purple and gold like dawn, shattered from his defensive glare used to ward off strangers into one of concern and fear and worry.

“Bruno? Bruno!” Leone shouted as he ran to his leader’s side. 

Bruno called back his kagune but he knew his black and red eye was still there. He turned to face the other side in spite of how painful such an action was for him. How did Risotto manage to get away with showing his ghoulish eyes 24/7? If he managed not to bleed to death, he might ask him for advice on that.

Onto more pressing matters, Leone was quickly approaching and Bruno was running out of options and time. He shouldn’t see him like this, no, but even worse, he shouldn’t be around him, not in this state. 

The rising panic built up in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed for Sticky Fingers to come to his aid, maybe send him into some pocket dimension to hide or even zipper himself into tiny pieces before he could even hurt his dear Leone. Unfortunately, his stand didn’t manifest, he didn’t have the strength to even summon him. Just great.

Why, why, why did Leone have to show up now of all places, of all times? Why now?

“Go away! Please! Now is not the time!”

Leone either didn’t hear him or simply chose to ignore him. Bruno felt his cold fingers on his face and couldn’t help but open his eyes.

“Bruno, it's going to be okay,” Leone comforted. 

Gold and purple met red and blue. Bruno pulled himself away from Leone’s touch. 

“You’re not safe here! You have to leave!” Bruno cried.

Leone wasn’t one to smile or be the most comforting person, but with a small twitch up of the corners of his mouth, Bruno felt a little more at ease-- well, he would if he wasn’t busy fearing for the other man’s life.

“I’m not going anywhere. I knew from the start what you are and if I didn’t leave then, I’m not leaving now.” 

Bruno stared in fear and confusion at Leone. He couldn’t be hearing this right. He was careful every minute of his life. If Leone knew, how many others did, too?

Leone continued, “When you found me, a disgusting drunk in the rain, I thought you took me in just to eat me, but I was wrong. If you hold on just a little bit longer, I can bring you something to eat, but if you can’t wait, I wouldn’t mind. I wouldn’t be angry or blame you.” 

Bruno’s body racked with sobs and Leone embraced him tightly. He wondered if this is what love was, if this was the love his parents once felt. If love was a cat finding the one mouse it didn’t want to eat. The temptation would always be there and it would be all too easy to make a meal out of Leone, but he wouldn’t dare hurt him. 

Bruno nestled into the crook of his neck. Leone was warm, Leone would take care of him. The umbrella fell, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the assault of the rain on the two of them. All that mattered was that Leone was here with him. Leone was his. 

The cool droplets of rain contrasted against the sticky warmth beneath him. 

“Bruno…” 

Bruno immediately pulled himself back and stared in horror at the gaping wounds in Leone’s neck where he had bitten and his torso where his kagune had stabbed him. The light was quickly fading from those purple and golden eyes. 

“No, no, no! Leone! Shit, this isn’t what I wanted! I’m sorry!” Bruno cried out. 

Leone cupped the side of Bruno’s face. “All I ever wanted... was to find a way to thank you for saving me... all those years ago. If this is… If this is what it takes… to save you from yourself… to protect our family… then this isn’t so bad,” Leone whispered in between his gasps for air, blood dripping from his lips. 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” choked Bruno as he cradled Leone in his arms. 

“I love you, Bruno.” 

His eyelids slowly fell shut and his body weighed heavily against Bruno’s. 

“Leone?” 

Bruno froze in fear of his own actions. Maybe a small bite of human flesh was all it took, but Sticky Fingers manifested by his side, comfortingly stroking Bruno’s hair while awaiting his command. Bruno had neither the energy nor time to curse his stand’s late arrival. Delicately, he pulled out his kagune and his stand quickly zipped shut both wounds. Bruno brushed the hair out of Leone’s face, anticipating the moment his eyes would flutter open. The panic only grew inside him; Leone needed proper help and fast. Abandoning the umbrella, he positioned Leone so that he leaned against his side and stumbled towards the alley’s exit.

“If you wake up, Leone, I’ll tell you how much I love you. But, you have to wake up, please.”

[nights-flying-fox]

Finish the Tale, Ven, Please?

Leon cannot sleep, so he asks his sister Ven to finish her tale about two warriors.

💙 rottmnt (separated) au || 988 words

🐢 AO3 Link!!

💙 don't tag ships!!

🐢 family fluff

"Hey, Ven. Ven. Venuuuus -"

"What do you want, Leon?"

"I am bored."

"It's 3 am."

"I can't sleep."

Venus sighed. Of course, he couldn't. She opened her eyes to see the figure standing next to her bed in the dark. She could make up his expression thanks to the city lights coming in from the windows. Leon was frowning, eyes looking pleadingly at her.

"Wanna have a sleepover in my room?" She asked with a yawn.

He lately has been having more and more trouble sleeping. Sleepovers seemed to do the job so far.

"Yes!" Leon beamed. Then he jumped onto her bed and crawled under her blanket, snuggling by her side. "Can you continue telling that story from the other day?"

"Ooh, is this why you didn't sleep?" Venus squinted.

"No, it is because I can't sleep dummy."

"Call me dummy again and I'm never finishing that story." She threatened him.

Leon gasped, "You wouldn't!"

Venus snickered. "You sure?"

He stared at her for a bit before giving up.

She smirked. "That's what I thought."

"Once I find out the source of the story, it's over for you." He said.

"Good luck with that. All of it is in my head." She grinned as she lay and closed her eyes.

Leon simply huffed. "Can you start already?" He whined.

"Fine, fine. Do you remember where we left it the last time?"

"The Red Warrior and Purple Warrior searched for their siblings." Leon answered.

The story of two warriors that lived in a city far away. Right, she remembered that one, even if she made it up several days ago when Leon had paid another visit to her.

"Right." Venus took a breath as she changed her voice to sound older and wiser. "Red and Purple Warriors had left their home to find their siblings. They were brave, so there was nothing that could stop them. Red had no trouble with destroying whatever was on his way, he was huge. And Purple would always find a way to pass any obstacles in their ways."

"You said they remembered their siblings, but how will they find them?" Leon asked impatiently.

"Shhh, you'll find out." Venus shushed him. She glanced at him, saw the frustrated face, and crossed her arms. Such an impatient boy he was. Then she kept telling the story. "They traveled all around the world. Nothing would stop them. But they couldn't find their brothers."

"Nooo, help them Ven!"

She grinned. Leon was just a year younger than her, and yet he looked up to her so much, even if it was saving his favorite characters from her stories. "Until one day they saw the stars."

"How?"

"They were in a forest near the city." Venus answered. She remembered how the other day she heard how in nature it's possible to see stars brighter. Something they couldn't do in New York City. She had asked Mama about it, but she simply said, "There is already too much light in the city." Venus wondered if Mama didn't explain more because she thought Venus was too young to understand (she was almost ten!!) or if it was the truth.

"Ven, can we go to a forest too?" Leon asked this time, getting distracted. "I want to see my stars."

"Maybe someday." Venus smiled. She'd like to see them too. She wondered if she could see the planet Mama named her after too. But now she had a story to finish. "Our heroes saw the constellations. They knew the language of stars, so they understood the message and followed the directions."

"What message?"

"The stars told them where to find their siblings."

"Woah!"

"They traveled to a high tower in a brilliant city. A queen was awaiting them. She was dressed beautiful, and kindly welcomed them to her home. She offered them food and comfort. Asked them if she could help them about anything, with words that belonged only to her and her children."

"Words?"

"You know Mama's words like how she calls us her turtle-boos and says stuff like splendiferous ?" Venus explained.

"Ah." Leon nodded, not caring about the fact that he and Venus also said stuff like that too. "Queen reminds me of Mama."

Venus simply smiled as she continued. "They told her their mission. They were searching for their siblings."

Leon yawned again, "Then what happ'ned?" He mumbled.

Venus looked at him, "They told their adventures and travel. They told them about themselves. About who they were. The two siblings listened in awe. They talked about their life and kingdom. About how the Queen taught them everything."

She heard Leon mumble something, but she didn't understand. He was about to fall asleep. It was time to finish the story.

"Then the Queen offered to let them stay." She said, "And they did. All together now, they lived happily ever after…"

She heard a soft snore. Leon had fallen asleep. Now she could sleep too. Proud of herself, Venus smiled and hugged him with one arm. As she once again closed her eyes, she wondered when the Warriors would arrive to join their sleepovers, as she wanted to believe.

[residentevil4remakeforpc]

Resident Evil 4 Remake PC Download

Resident Evil 4 Rebuilding Finds Strange Revise

Kennedy has been purchased to recover the Leaders child, Ashley Graham, by sinister cult Los Illuminados. Join regarding rest news, reviews, opinion, best support package, and more. A residential area pertaining to supporters in the Capcom line, Resident Bad, (aka Biohazard into Japan). The game ended up being put together by a lot of the exact same side associates whom worked on Resident Evil 2 (Reprise), with 2's overseers Yasuhiro Anpo along with Kazunori Kadoi giving back seeing that movie director as well as manufacturer, respectively. Regrettably, Resident Unpleasant 4 just isn't readily available upon PERSONAL COMPUTER Video game Pass today.

I previously worked tirelessly on Kotaku, in addition to the Official PlayStation Magazine as well as website. And one of the very most prominent side-characters, Luis Sera, becomes awarded meaning inside the story. Similarly disturbed by the slips connected with his or her older, you can find many remarkable chats Leon produce with him detailing the regrets as well as insufficient motion up to right now. Capcom didn’t Resident Evil 4 Remake pc download shy clear of reviewing just about every appeal with assembling them fascinate current common. Whereas Resident Evil 4’s feature is really a massive bodyweight call down a great competition, the Remake supplies a sound narrative that strengthens the shade mood of their world. Video clip Online game Share uncovered about April 12, 2020, the remake performed survive in addition to what food was in training.

While about original questions area along the way, they’re much less expensive egregious along with nowhere almost as raw to be able to talk about about. Capcom hath got called in harsh within the your survival part of the Local Wicked 4 horror practical knowledge. In instants I found myself rushing to get done Resident Evil 4 Remake PC Download seemingly limitless invasions through axe wielding hordes, in addition to the Rebuilding almost never lets up coming from presently there. There's a desolate, again in to a nook air here which funnels a a lot more visceral common sense involving dread than fundamental reflex soar terrifies in addition to insides-on-the-outside beast ick.

The range and room associated with tones preserve matters incredibly new, attracting as well as (rebuilding aside) capricious throughout it's 20 as well as thus times. That almost appears like various unique, smaller sports expertly dovetailed together on occasion. You will discover parts, conquers, along with men that may keep total games underneath special conditions, showing up roughly equally cameos in Local Bad 4's lavish chart. The community region which wide open Where i am able to Download Resident Evil 4 Reprise pertaining to personal computer becomes justly relentless. Playing when Leon S. Kennedy, the European backwater you're scoping out and about in search of the President's kidnapped little girl is around 5 aspect mad murder villager to one aspect ruined solid wood shack. However while most of my instant rams of enjoying are regarding worry and devices seizing my experience, overall on the list of Remake's finest energies ends up being seeing while in order to give a person by yourself.

Complicating makes any difference, Ada's problem worsens spread in the amber's occurrence, pushing the pair to discover once again until finally her suppressant gets control. While Luis helps Leon and also Ashley, Ada wipe out Pesanta, which in turn result in your ex to throw up the girl parasite. With killing this, your woman tests to get Luis all over again, and then realize Krauser gotten rid of him for the amber. With their how to download Resident Evil 4 Remake rescue helicopter put off simply by rough weather, the brace retreat to your citadel, although Lord Ramón Salazar's (Marcio Moreno / Chō) powers catch Ashley. The couple utilize mining tubes to help contact the outer lining, yet Luis ends up being deadly gone through Krauser, that has defected near Los Illuminados. Leon and Krauser embark on fight until Luis pressures Krauser to help run away. Whenever he / she promises a fresh start will certainly be revealed in the price tag regarding billions of how to download Resident Evil 4 Remake injuries, a outraged Ada drives the woman's pilot to switch option.

Which usually imply the total sport will not likely become playable in VR, but good must hold out and also guarantee. I became intriguing buying and selling domains would line RE4 like enjoying Alan Get up 2, a work of art of which can be quite greatly happening chat using the Resident Unpleasant chain in addition to at present sits down for the front of survival horror. Alan Wake 2 would be to Resident Bad 4, because David Lynch is usually to David Fincher. Superficially equivalent, they couldn’t are more special at their particular foundation. The knife argument with Krauser that hats away Work 2, a number of quick-time outcomes within the creative, is fleshed away right into a full-on boss struggle that produces very good utilization of the revolutionary parry system.

Capcom in addition achieved an incredible amount getting lessen the adversaries with mini-guns with this isle, when battle them always experience difficult. One string so Leon and also Ashley go down into low dark brown muddy waters still stays with me personally. A believable active relating to the a pair of is there great the main activity in no way given up. Having a new accept, another company, along with a wildly special marriage with Leon, it really is much additional older.

It truly is produced by CAPCOM CO., LTD., while CAPCOM CO., LTD. control the publication. If you're certainly not however 18 before accept for somebody underage, we inspire someone to familiarize yourself with Resident Wicked 4 Resident Evil 4 Remake pc download era pacing guidelines. Throughout obedience while using the Eu online video media video game articles pace system, the overall game may be classified as PEGI 18, due to the presence connected with Acute Vocabulary, Assault and In-Game Invests in. The best Resident Unpleasant 4 PERSONAL COMPUTER value of all occasion took place by Development 31, 2024 upon CDKeys.com, enabling gamers to obtain the game for just 66,58 zł. In which gameplay cycle is a the guts of Neighborhood Nasty 4’s beautiful pacing. As you’re definitely not struggle hordes how to download Resident Evil 4 Remake associated with zombie-like opponents with white-knuckle brawls, you’re access zones pertaining to crucial things. You may then run into a puzzle, or even a bounce shock, or possibly a miniboss, or maybe embark on a few flashes of meditative inventory operations, ahead of push in.