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praisethegabs · 10 months ago

Text

OLDER

leon kennedy x reader

synopsis: he's getting older, and he knows that. not believing in luck or in love, leon finds himself in a position of complete misfortune. he convinced himself he's not worthy of love, but that changes when he meets you.

warnings: angst with fluff ending, age gap, leon is very insecure about his age and the reader. strangers to lovers, mentions of smut, ptsd, alcoholism, depression, suicidal thoughts. reader is very delicate, kind, and patient. there's parts from the vendetta book and a few scenes from re6. it starts with re6!leon and ends with di!leon

word count: 15k

a/n: guess who's back? to celebrate the 1 year re4r anniversary, I decided to post this one shot I was working for almost two months. I'm into my angst era again. also i wrote this based on this analysis i read, which made me think about the broken part of leon for a while, also this fic contains part of the vendetta book. feel free to leave comments, reblogs, tips, or positive critics. they're always very welcome ❤️

I. THE WEIGHT ON HIS SHOULDERS

Life can be a bitch sometimes.

This is what he says to himself when he finishes another bottle of whiskey. Every day, when he opens his eyes, he tries to stay positive, hoping his day will be different from his usual schedule; in the end, it is always the same bullshit. Over and over again. No apparent ending; always his solitude.

But someday it must end, right? He can’t be fighting B.O.W.'s for the rest of his life, can he? Maybe someday he’ll finally settle down and have a peaceful day. Maybe, on this day, his nightmares will stop, and if he’s lucky, he’ll sleep for the entire night. No one can blame him for dreaming of a perfect life, and no one can take this from him.

The government made him their slave, their deadly pet that follows and obeys every rule and command, and forced him to risk his neck almost every week to keep their country safe. What a bunch of assholes, he thinks to himself. Thing is, Leon hates himself for what he was forced to become.

There is so much pain. So much suffering. He only wanted to be a cop — nothing more than that. He wanted to deal with simple things — not bioterrorists ready to blow up the entire world, not grotesque mutations that defy the natural order of things. Certainly, if he had a choice to go back and change that night, he wouldn’t go to Raccoon City. He would've stayed in his cheap hotel room; he would have obeyed Marvin’s orders to not go in there.

But now he’s something else. The rookie cop who had to survive that night died. He can’t even recognize himself anymore, and sometimes, he blames himself for it. No more than he blames the government for it; if he could go back…

His days are filled with this emptiness — the sensation that he might never see his happy ending. Ada? Yeah, sure. He knows he can’t trust her, and God knows where she is or what she’s doing. He was so naive to fall for her like he did. While on his free day out of the office, he finds himself with a certain envy of happy couples. He can’t stop thinking: why can’t he have the same? Why can’t he be happy for once?

Getting older sucks. At this point, Leon thinks and has already convinced himself that he doesn’t belong to anyone and that he won’t be able to have someone. To experience love and being loved, he wants to be wanted. He’s getting older and still doesn't have anyone by his side. That’s the price he pays for having this life, and he still blames the government for taking it from him. He doesn’t remember the last time he actually felt something for someone, and at this moment of his life, it doesn’t matter to him anymore. Leon had already accepted the fact that he'd die alone. Maybe he’ll get a cat to keep him company. Since he’s not much of a dog person since Raccoon City, maybe he’ll name her a cute name; who knows? That’s probably the closest he’ll get to having something waiting for him at home.

Leon doesn’t remember the last time he actually felt happy. Since Raccoon City, he doesn't know what happiness means, and sometimes, on very rare occasions, he envies people around him. He feels like his entire life has no purpose and no meaning, and he’s completely faded to emptiness, to a sad existence based on killing bioweapons and serving his country. Does he feel proud about it? No, he doesn’t.

It’s been a very long time since Leon felt pride. That feeling died and is now buried in the remains of Raccoon City, inside that police station where his life turned upside down. Now he’s only an empty shell of what he used to be. He’s rotting inside, craving something he knows he can’t have, and there’s nothing but a void inside him, consuming every inch of him.

After serving his country for years, he started to get used to the idea that maybe he wasn’t made for a happy ending, and he shouldn’t bother with such things. He can’t afford the luxury of being with someone, because it means being vulnerable, and it also means he would have to open himself to things he swore he would never feel again. No, thank you.

Things at work aren’t exactly the best, either. Years ago, Leon started to question himself about whether the government cared about their people, especially the ones he had to kill in order to save others. Leon couldn’t forget what happened in Spain — the entire village he was forced to end so he wouldn’t die. Perhaps they could’ve saved them; possibly they could’ve had a chance; maybe if… and this is where he dozes off thinking about the infinite possibilities.

After what happened in Raccoon City, Leon knew he had lost faith. He knew things would never be the same after everything he saw that day. Sometimes, he finds himself thinking about Annette and William Birkin. He feels his body shivering when he remembers he had to fight for his life, clinging to something bigger than him. Survival.

II. RINSE AND REPEAT

He has no social skills, and doesn't know how to interact with people anymore. It all feels weird and uncomfortable, and it makes him feel terrible. Sometimes he feels like he’s stuck in time and can’t have a proper conversation with someone normal. The worst part of his life is that he feels he’s carrying a weight on his shoulders that it wasn’t supposed to be his in the first place. He has the weight of the world with him, and there is no one to help him through it. Life made him depressed, cold and distant. Life has built him this way; he's shaped himself into something he’s not, and he can’t find himself. He’s lost.

Leon can’t stop having nightmares about Raccoon City.

At this point, he just accepted that they wouldn't go away. It feels like he’s trapped inside his own mind, and there’s no turning back. Sometimes at night, he keeps looking at his ceiling imagining a different life, where he was a cop and happy. Usually, his nightmares are so dark and deep that when he wakes up, he finds solace in the sunlight, feeling relieved that he survived another night. When he doesn't sleep, when he’s too scared to close his eyes, he cries quietly, protected by the walls of his room, searching for assurance and a promise that everything will be fine. It doesn’t always work, but now he knows he can control his fears, and somehow, it helps him feel safe.

This time, his mission nearly got him killed. His entire body was full of bruises and wounds, and every part of him hurt. He felt his body swallowing a little, and he felt terrible again. He has blood under his nails, and he washes himself at least three times to make sure there’s nothing more on him than the burden of being a slave for the government.

Leon is paranoid; he can’t stand the fact that he has blood on his hands. If he sees a spot, he’ll clean it until there’s nothing left, and maybe he’s now too obsessed with the idea of being clean. It makes him feel sick to the bones, because he knows what he does and what it means. He knows that this guilt won’t be washed away like the blood on his hands, and certainly won’t get away from his head like it does from his clothes whenever he launders them. It’s a pretty shitty routine, but he’s used to it.

Now he finds himself in a very dark place; he can’t eat without feeling guilty. He can’t do the basics of his chores because he can’t stop thinking about his life, regretting every decision he made. Everything he does seems mechanical, like he’s repeating the process over and over again, a perfect killing machine that has no one to care about. On Fridays, he finds himself sitting on his couch, in complete silence, holding an empty bottle. He knows he can’t drown himself in alcohol, no matter how much he wants it or how tempting it sounds, because the liquid doesn’t affect him anymore. It doesn't make the pain go away or silence the horrors he saw during his life.

After three weeks inside his house, locked inside his room, Leon woke up with a strange feeling inside his chest. Something was telling him that this day would be different, like a big change would happen. For the first time in weeks, he decided to leave his place for a simple walk. He could do that; he could walk into the market and buy some real food or maybe get a haircut. He felt that he was able to allow himself to have an ordinary day.

After taking a long shower, Leon decided to wear cozy and comfortable clothes. He was so used to his brutal routine that he almost forgot what it was like to have a normal day, but this time, he was willing to try something different. He took a deep breath before leaving his house, and when he felt the soft, cold breeze reaching his skin, he knew he could do that.

Step by step, Leon found himself walking towards the market, even enjoying the lovely view he had from his neighborhood. He doesn’t remember it to be so… gray. Sure, he knows what winter is, but he doesn’t remember the last time he actually stayed at his home during the winter. His lips turn into a small smirk, and he thinks how silly he is. When he reaches the small market, which is more of a store, he walks slowly, looking at what he might be buying - he’s done with frozen food. He stops at the veggie section and keeps looking at it, confused.

“These aren’t fresh” a sweet voice is enough to wake him up from his trance. He looks in that direction, and all he sees is you.

“How can you tell that?” he asks you in visible confusion, which makes you smile. And that smile was enough to sparkle something oddly inside him.

“Color, smell, texture,” you explained, still smiling and showing him a fresh vegetable. “This one is fresh."

"Thanks,” Leon replied awkwardly, taking the vegetable from your hand and placing it in his basket.

“You don’t come here very often. I know almost everyone who comes to buy food here,” you said next, glancing at him with curiosity.

“I… have a busy schedule,” he says, still sounding awkward.

“Really? Well, you should definitely take some time to buy healthy food. I’m pretty sure you do a lot of workouts to keep your body in shape” you giggle, noticing the size of his muscles, which makes his face turn red.

“I’ll keep that in mind” Leon managed to say, although he wanted to dissipate from Earth.

“I can help with that” you suddenly said, analyzing him more carefully.

“With what?” Leon frowned, already feeling his heart beating ten times faster.

“I noticed you’re having difficulty with your right arm, which makes me think you got it hurt. If you’re planning to buy more, I can help with your bags” you offered, very polite and kind, catching him by surprise.

“Thanks” Leon says, finding himself smiling, which is unusual.

At first, having some company after so much time alone made him think it was strange. He wasn’t feeling ready to have a small conversation, but you didn’t seem bothered. In fact, you were enjoying walking to this stranger's house in complete silence. Fifteen minutes later, you were in front of his house in an awkward silence between the two of you.

“I guess this is it” you smiled at him, and Leon found himself lost in your smile.

“Yeah. Thank you” he said for the fifth time, which made you giggle a little.

“Anything for a customer” you said to him, giving him his bags. “My parents are the owners, so…”

“You don’t seem too old” he said, and after a second, he felt more weird. “I mean…”

“Nah, it’s ok. This isn’t the first time people say I'm younger than I look”. You smiled again, thinking that this old man was very silly and cute. “I’m 25, don’t worry”

“I’m Leon, by the way” He finally says his name to you, stretching his hand in a very educated way.

“Nice to meet you, Leon” you said before shaking his hand.

Leon took at least three weeks to return to the market.

His initial thoughts about you were that he definitely felt weird in your presence. Maybe he felt that way because of his lack of social skills and because he really sucks when the subject is social conversation. He caught himself thinking too hard about the visual and evident contrast between the two of you; you were young, bright and smart, with a great future ahead of you, and plus, you came from a loving family. Leon, on the other hand, was an orphan used and abused by the government, their pet and a man who only knew pain and brutality.

However, you were the first friendly face he saw after years. The way you were smiling and giggling at his awkward answers, it definitely made him feel something he thought he would never feel again. It was like you found the rookie cop inside him, and despite the fact that he barely said something, he felt normal around you. And that was more than enough. How could it happen so fast?

“How can I help you?” you said before noticing it was him. “Oh, hi”

“Hi” Leon is welcomed by that smile of yours. “I… um…”

“You came to buy more veggies?” you ask, still smiling at him. You think it’s cute to see him without any words.

“No… I just came because I’m looking for food seasoning” Leon said, his face slightly turning red. “I’m trying new recipes, so…”

“Yeah? What have you been trying?” you ask with sudden enthusiasm, leading him to the part with seasonings.

“Nothing too risky” he answers vaguely, following you closely.

“What kind of seasonings do you like?” You turn back to face him as you show him the shelves with different types of seasonings.

“I’m more into spicy flavors” Leon tells you, his attention going to the shelves.

“It suits you” you said, giving him some space. You saw him smiling again.

"How does spicy seasoning suit me?” he asks with a hint of curiosity.

“You might think I’m weird, but… seeing from outside, you look like someone with a rough agenda and, apparently, whatever you do is dangerous. Personally, I think you suit perfectly spicy things” you said, hoping it would make sense.

“I think I got your point,” Leon said, and then he found himself smiling for the second time.

“Lucky me, right?” you laugh, walking back to the cashier. “Is this all for today?”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Leon nods, grabbing his wallet to pay for the seasonings.

“How’s your arm?” you ask, taking his money and counting it.

“It's better. I had to take a few painkillers, but it’s definitely better” he said, avoiding you for a few moments.

“That’s great. I know a few herbs to help with the pain” you said, giving him the change from his purchase.

“How so?” Leon asks with another hint of curiosity.

“A great sorcerer doesn’t reveal her secrets” you wink playfully at him. “You need to earn that, soldier”

“And how could I earn your secrets, great sorcerer?” Leon asks, enjoying your playful mood.

“Maybe you can invite me for dinner and show me your cooking skills” you shake your shoulders and, for the second time, catching him by surprise.

“You would love that, wouldn't you?” Leon said, and a slight smirk appeared on his lips.

“Who knows?” You wink playfully at him, with another suggestive smile on your lips.

The world has gone to hell, Leon thinks to himself.

He starts to contemplate everything that has happened to him. When did this madness begin? It was back in Raccoon City? Oh, no. It is way older than that. Maybe his collapse started when his family died, and he was left an orphan; what happened in Raccoon City wasn’t really the beginning of his nightmare. It was the cherry on top of the torments that would become his life.

Now that he’s coming back home from another mission, he can’t stop thinking how his life could’ve been if Umbrella had never happened. If those bioweapons were never created, defying every natural order. He looks outside his window, and he just can’t stop blaming himself for Tall Oaks.

What has become of this world? Leon thinks. Where did I go wrong?

His life is an entire mistake. It just goes on and on. His family first, then Raccoon City. Tricell, Los Illuminados, Uroboros and, finally, that nightmare at Tall Oaks. Leon takes a deep breath. He feels his hands shaking and closes his eyes, forcing himself to forget. How silly he is!

The future is a hell that’s only getting worse.

III. THE PAIN OF REMEMBERING

You weren't expecting Leon to find the note with your number that you left on his seasonings, the same way you weren't expecting him to call you.

However, something about him got your attention the minute he stepped foot inside the store. He wasn't like anything you had seen before; he was definitely something else.

After almost four weeks since the last time you saw him, you got a call from an unknown number. It was pretty late at night, but your curiosity won the battle within you, and you had to pick up the phone. With a groggy voice of sleep, you saw the number and frowned.

“Hello?” You ask, followed by a big yawning. It was one in the morning.

“Hi… um, it's Leon” he says with some urgency, to which you jump from your bed. “I'm sorry to wake you up”

“No, don't worry. I wasn't sleeping” you lied, forcing yourself not to yawn again.

“I know it's late, but… I was thinking about that dinner…” he says, sounding somehow hopeful. “Maybe you could come later and… talk?”

“Yeah, sure. Can you pick me up?” You ask him, and a smile appears on your lips as you answer him.

“Of course. At seven?”

“At seven, it is,” you smiled again.

As soon as the call ended, he was in complete shock. For some reason, Leon felt you wouldn’t accept his invitation, especially after being alone for so long. His heart was beating faster inside his chest, and he had to remind himself that it was just a casual date between… two friends? Could you possibly be his friend?

Leon felt anxious, something he only felt when he was on his missions.

Suddenly, the mere thought of having you at his home with him sounded terrifying. He felt like it would end in a complete disaster, and you wouldn’t see him ever again. Then, Leon had to stop and calm himself down, knowing it was his trauma trying to get the best of him. After everything he went through in his life, being able to trust someone proved to be a difficult task. He felt scared, and his mind was racing with thousands of different thoughts, each worse than the other.

Betrayal is the word that defines Leon.

He was betrayed before and multiple times, which left him with a lot of insecurities and traumas to the point he feels that he can’t trust anyone, which led to another set of insecurities. Leon feels that he isn’t enough anymore, that he can’t provide the proper attention someone might need from him, and that he can’t be in a relationship because of his problems. The truth is, he can’t be in a relationship until he leaves his trauma behind, and he knows it. That’s the easy part, but the hard one is how to let it go.

Later that day, Leon finally had the courage to clean his house. He needed some motivation to get rid of his depression, and nothing was better than finally allowing himself to have some company besides his solitude. His house smelled pretty good, everything was clean, and his furniture was even shining. He opened the curtains, and the sunlight entered his living room. He took a deep breath with the fresh air that came inside, and smiled, feeling somehow proud and happy.

At seven, you were waiting outside the store, scrolling through your phone, when you saw Leon approaching on his motorcycle. You were gorgeous, wearing a beautiful dress and covered by a black leather jacket — the perfect contrast that suited you well. Leon was completely mesmerized by the sight of you - so beautiful, he thought.

“Hey, there” you waved at him as he parked next to you.

“Hi,” Leon replies, sounding embarrassed. “You look beautiful”

“You too, handsome” you said playfully, taking the helmet from his hand and sitting behind him, your hands holding him tight. You didn’t notice the small blush on his cheeks.

"Are you okay back there?” Leon asks you, making sure you were fine before starting the engines.

“Yeah, I’m fine” you said, nodding your head, and smiling when he started to drive his bike to his place.

You two didn’t take long enough to reach his place. Leon offered you his hand so you had support to get out of his bike, and he even opened the front door for you. He led you inside his house, and everything inside was enough to show you the kind of man he was; his home was big, but simple. He had a lot of comfort there, but it seemed like he didn't spend much time at his place. You saw some photos at the fireplace, a few when he was younger, at some training camp with his possible friends.

“How old were you when you took these?” you asked him with curiosity.

“I was twenty-one” he said, grabbing the wine and the glasses.

“So young” you whispered, noticing that in some pictures, he was sad.

Leon took another deep breath. Why did this have to be so difficult? Why couldn’t he be just normal for once? Why did everything have to happen to him? You were standing there, so gracefully, observing his old photographs, so young and full of life, with no baggage with you. Someone actually happy and alive. If you knew how much he envies this.

“People say that our eyes are the windows to our soul” you turn to face him, noticing his sudden silence. “Yours are so sad and broken… what happened to your neck?”

Instinctively, his hand reaches his neck, and Leon feels the bandage perfectly secured on his skin, with a small spot of blood. Gladly, it was enough to change the subject, because he was shocked enough by what you said about his broken soul. If you only knew.

“I, um… got hurt on my job. It’s nothing.” Leon tries to avoid speaking about his past.

“It seems pretty bad” you step closer to him, your hand gently touching his bandage.

“It’s nothing… trust me” Leon smiles weakly, looking down. His heart is beating so fast inside his chest that he could explode any time. “I’m fine”

“Then explain why you are so nervous around me” you whispered, now softly touching his cheek.

Leon felt he stopped breathing, like his lungs decided to leave him alone and deal with the matter himself; how powerful your touch felt. It was enough to break every wall he built around himself for years; it was enough to make him break. And it was only a soft and kind touch. He slowly closed his eyes, his breath becoming normal again, and he allowed himself to just feel it.

“I don’t know what on earth happened to you…” your voice is full of kindness as you speak, now seeing him hold your hand as you keep touching his cheek. “But I’m always here if you decide to talk”

Leon was reaching his breaking point.

He was used to being a slave, always using his body, mind and soul to provide safety for the others without them knowing one damn thing about it; he was used to always being alone, to the point that kindness was a strange feeling, almost not existing at all and that he didn’t deserve it. But here you are.

“It hurts to remember,” he confessed, his voice a low whisper. “I tried to forget it, but I can’t”

When he felt you wrapping your arms around his body and your warmth embracing him, Leon felt his eyes getting wet. He was so deeply touch starved, craving something so human, that when he got it, he knew he was going to break. His mind was racing, and his body was trying to process the feeling and react in the proper way. He felt so many emotions at once that he thought he was going insane.

“Please, keep holding me” Leon begs, his arms finding their way through your back as he hugs you back. “Because I know I’ll fall if you let me go”

After that night, it took almost two months until Leon decided to show up at the store to see you again. He felt nervous, but at this point, he realized that, for some reason, he couldn’t stay away from you; he felt that you had some type of magnetism enough to keep him close, which made him feel comfortable, something he hadn't felt in a while.

However, before he went to the store to see you, he needed courage. Leon thought you would be upset with him after being ghosted for almost two months, although he felt responsible for it, since he never told you the nature of his job or why he was so absent. Sadly, Leon was again in a spiral of sadness and depression. His last mission was a disaster, and Leon knew he had no control over his feelings again. He was sitting on his bed, contemplating the bottle in his hands. The curtains were closed, and the atmosphere inside his room was darker. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, and then, he’s there again.

June 29, 2013. Tall Oaks, USA

“It might create more problems than it solves…” the voice of the president echoes inside his head as he points his gun towards the said person.

Leon doesn't recognize the man in front of him, or what he used to be. He keeps his gun raised, his grasp around the trigger getting tight by the second he makes his decision. His voice comes and goes, creating a tense atmosphere around him.

“Bio-organic weapons are a global threat and we are partly to blame…” Benford said once to Leon when he expressed his desire to expose the truth about the Raccoon City Incident. He looks at the living corpse in front of him. Tick tack. He knows what he needs to do. “I’ve always valued your friendship, Leon… It’s time to take responsibility and end this mess”

He shakes his head, somehow returning to his reality.

“Stay right where you are!” Leon said, his voice sounding cracked and angry. The corpse starts walking towards him and as a reflex, his grip gets more tight. “Mr. President!”

The zombie starts walking towards him and the woman next to him. He hesitates for a moment, unsure and sure about what he needs to do. Every part of him screams and begs, trying to find a solution. He knows it’s too late. He can’t save the president, he can’t save anyone.

“Don’t make me do this” Leon gritted his teeth, trying to find any reason to avoid what needed to be done. It happens fast. Adam Benford, the former president of the United States and now a corpse, throws himself towards her. “Adam!” Leon screams.

He pulls the trigger.

And there’s only blood.

He gets out of his thoughts when he hears someone knocking on his front door. It doesn't take too long for him to finally stand up and see who’s there, and, inside his mind, he’s already preparing himself to tell this person to leave him alone, but his entire demeanor changes when he opens the door, and all he sees there is you.

“You’re back” you smiled warmly at him, your cheeks red because of the cold temperature. “I wasn’t sure you were home”

“What are you doing here?” Leon’s first question isn't as welcome as you thought it would be.

“A friend can’t see a friend?” you answered simply, and the smile never left your lips.

“I’m sorry” he sighs, giving you space to enter his place. “I didn’t mean to be rude”

“Don’t worry” you said, removing your scarf and hat. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, I guess” Leon nods slowly, and you notice he’s not entirely well.

“Breakfast?” you ask him, wanting to confirm your suspicions, and he nods quietly.

You had difficulty finding yourself inside his place, since you’ve been there only once. You notice that he’s quiet, and despite that fact, which is completely normal for him, you know that there’s something wrong. So, you decided to go simple with his breakfast. Almost forty minutes later, you came back with a plate full of pancakes, crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, and some orange juice.

He leisurely used his knife and fork to eat the food you made. The careful manner in which he ate wasn’t due to his cautious nature, but rather because he had a terrible hangover that messed with his coordination, and rushing could easily lead to a slip of the hand and his shaking. Leon was a pretty man, and he could easily take on leading roles in Hollywood blockbusters. However, he currently sported a scruffy beard, exuded a weary atmosphere, and radiated fatigue and discontent.

“I think I reached rock bottom,” Leon finally says, but he avoids your gaze at all costs.

“Then I’ll help you get out of there” you said with kindness, your pinky finger interlocking with his.

IV. GRIEF AND BARGAIN

The path to healing isn’t always easy, and now Leon is aware of that.

The year is now 2014 and he’s struggling to forget what happened a year ago. Sometimes, when his mind is quiet, he starts to wonder. Is it possible that there could have been a world without Umbrella and zombies? Leon scoffed and shook off his sweet dreams. A world without zombies? That's something from a long time ago. The future is only going to become a worse hell. Then, he has to remind himself about the great things he has in life. You are one of these things.

Although he has your support, he knows that he’ll only get better walking this path by himself. The winter deciduous forest looked like branches made of human bones. A mixed forest with a walking path spread out. This is a high-end residential area in Bethesda, Maryland, where congressmen and bureaucrats commuting to Washington spend their nights. In the depths of a thicket, there was a slightly open gentle sloping area where the desired building was located. It was a designer house filled with a sense of openness, with all outer walls covered in glass, and it appeared like a model intended to showcase beautiful scenery rather than a place for people to live in.

The luxury was excessive to the point where it seemed somewhat like a toy. Leon had hidden himself in the thicket away from the road and was monitoring the designer house through binoculars with night vision capabilities. It was an unacknowledged fact, but a traitor to the country was living in this mansion. Senator Steven Air, who had sold information to a bioterrorist organization, was one of many government officials who had been involved in the incident in Tall Oaks where the President became a victim of B.O.W. Simmons, the President's aide, was among those who betrayed the government. And Leon still blames himself for what happened that night.

Currently, fifteen members of the Division of Security Operations (DSO) and two stealth drones have surrounded Steven's mansion. It was necessary to capture him and extract plenty of information before bringing him to trial. According to reports from aerial surveillance, Steven was on his way home by car from Washington. The distance from the White House to Bethesda was approximately twelve kilometers, and it would take about thirty minutes if he drove fast. Leon shifted his focus to his shoulder holster with a handgun. Of course, capturing him alive was best, but there was no hesitation in shooting the traitor if he resisted.

Leon suddenly remembers. This is Bethesda. The name is derived from the Bible. From the Gospel of John–

“Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda and which is surrounded by five covered colonnades. Here a great number of disabled people used to lie — the blind, the lame, the paralyzed. One who was there had been an invalid for thirty-eight years."

Jesus healed the man who had been sick for 38 years. God's love and His miracles. Bravo. That's exactly what this world needs in this hell.

"Target approaching."

As he thinks about the Bible, a communication comes through his earpiece. It's a report from the overhead surveillance team flying a drone. A roadway that weaves through a grove of mixed trees was approached by Stephen's white Porsche, an elegant luxury car resembling a graceful white swan. Perhaps dozens, hundreds of people may have died to buy that car. Such is the life of a villain.

"Visual on the target vehicle. Secure upon my GO signal," Leon whispered into his radio microphone. Both the earphones and microphone were of a bone conduction type that excelled in noise resistance. It converts vocal cord vibrations transmitted through the skull directly into voice signals. It was a perfect gadget for special operations where one couldn't make loud noises or miss instructions in the midst of noise.

The Porsche approached the garage.

"GO," Leon said sharply.

At that moment, two SUVs that had been hiding in a blind spot by the roadway started their engines like barking dogs and closed in on the Porsche at tremendous speed, trapping it in a pincer movement as planned. The driver of the Porsche was Stephen's secretary, with a bodyguard in the passenger seat and Stephen himself in the back seat.

Suddenly trapped from the front and back, they were thrown into confusion. Leon wondered – would the bodyguard or secretary resist? There was no doubt that they were carrying guns. He didn't want to give them unnecessary visibility, but he would deal with it when the time came. The agents jumped out of the trees. In the next moment, Stephen's Porsche exploded.

A deafening roar and shock. The high-performance explosive device planted under the car's body lifted the Porsche several meters off the ground, engulfing it in flames. And caught up in it, the DSO's SUVs overturned as well. The window glass of all the cars shattered into tiny pieces, the car bodies twisted and burned the people inside. All six agents from the team on foot, including Leon himself, were blown backwards by the force of the blast. Leon still thinks like he’s floating in the air, an eerie feeling of weightlessness that ended when he felt his body slamming against a tree trunk. In those fleeting moments, his consciousness waned, and it was the closest he had come to death.

Yet, it seemed the Grim Reaper was not yet ready to claim him.

Pain, intense and searing, jolted Leon’s awareness back to life, a grunt of pain escaping his lips. Leon struggled to his feet, and he threw up, retching repeatedly. His consciousness ebbed and flowed like waves, and he knew that rest was essential. Leon suspected that his ribs and collarbone were either fractured or cracked, but, fortunately, his arms and legs remained unbroken. Gritting his teeth, he managed to force his dislocated left shoulder joint back into place, enduring the excruciating pain, as he tried to work out which way was up.

There are bruises littered across his skin, scratches and abrasions where the bark of the tree tore his flesh. The shock of the explosion and the fear of death… an unpleasant feeling of internal organs turning over welled up. No matter how many times he experienced it, he could never get used to the terror of a close-range explosion. The air was knocked from his lungs; his breathing temporarily stopped; his eardrums were about to burst; and his knees were weak. He can barely stand. Leon finally sits up, willing his agent training to give him a sense of urgency even though his body is screaming in agony. The stench of gasoline fills the air, but Leon can barely smell it. His sense of smell and hearing are both almost gone. What the hell happened? Leon asked himself in front of the burning Porsche.

He feels paralyzed.

It was three in the morning when your phone started to ring.

It was an unknown number, and you had to fight the necessity of hanging up; something inside you told you to pick up the call, which you did. It was Leon, and the way his voice sounded on the phone made you aware that something bad had happened. Terrible, nonetheless. You drove to his location, and you found yourself shocked when you found smoke, fire and the smell of gasoline among a lot of government agents and military personnel. You found Leon sitting in the back of an ambulance, his body covered by a blanket, as he was examined by a paramedic. Not only that, but you had credentials to enter that isolated area, and the way those agents were rushing from one side to the other, talking on their phones, made it clear that someone important had died. You made your way towards Leon, not daring to look around, and when you reached him, you saw tears in his eyes. You hugged him tight, like you were holding the world in your hands.

“It’s ok, I got you” you said to him, your words full of assurance and kindness.

Leon refused to be taken to the hospital; instead, he asked you to drive him back home, since he felt he couldn’t do it on his own. The ride back to his place was silent, and you decided to respect his space, although you saw him trying to find solace in something real. He couldn’t stop playing with his finger, showing an elevated level of stress and anxiety. You have never seen him like this before.

“Can you stay?” Leon suddenly asked when you pulled over in front of his house. “I… don’t want to be alone”

“Yeah, sure” you nodded, noticing how vulnerable he was, which was odd.

You heard him groaning in pain once he got out of your car, but he refused your help, insisting he was fine. Knowing him well at this point, you gently held his hand, offering nothing but your support, and Leon quietly appreciated your effort. You helped him sit on his couch and heard him mutter something only he could understand. Judging by the look on his face and the way his hands were still shaking, you knew he was in shock.

“Do you have any first aid kits or something?” you asked him, hoping you would gain his attention.

“I’m fine” Leon replies, his eyes fixated on his shaky hands. You sat next to him, holding his hands and scratching his skin softly.

“It’s ok not to be okay." Your voice is almost a whisper as you look into his blue eyes. “You don’t have to be tough all the time”

You saw him reach the breaking point.

Feeling embraced by your kindness and safety, Leon finally allowed himself to feel his emotions — the same ones he fought hard to bury deep inside him — in the same place he swore he would never visit again. In the cozy atmosphere of his living room, having nothing but you as solace, the brunette agent gave himself a break, and when he did that, his eyes started to get watery.

After Raccoon City, Leon shut himself up so he wouldn’t be hurt ever again. He used to keep his emotions contained; he used to not think of them. He kept everything bottled up, because he knew he couldn’t handle it. Leon was so traumatized that the way he dealt with his feelings was to pretend they didn’t exist, in the first place. After Spain, it got worse. Nightmares after nightmares, the paranoia of still being infected with Las Plagas, everything that came after this.

But here you are, telling him that it is ok not to be okay, that he doesn’t have to be tough, and that it is okay to feel and to be vulnerable. He couldn’t stop sobbing; his hands were still shaking, but he didn't even care about this at the moment. Gently, you started to play with his hair, your fingers slowly going up and down on his head, providing comfort and care — exactly what he’s been missing his entire life.

“I lost them all” Leon started to say through sobs. “I saw them dead”

“It wasn’t your fault” you assured him with calm words.

“I failed them," he says as he looks at you, his blue eyes shining with tears as they fall through his skin.

“That’s not true. You didn’t know the car was about to explode or whatever happened there” You tried to calm him down.

“We were watching him; it was my responsibility to make sure they would be safe… it was my job to ensure that” Leon sobs again, and you can see he’s struggling to breathe due to his anxiety attack.

“Listen, you’re too nervous right now. Come on, take a deep breath with me” you said, hoping he would listen and cope.

Leon nods between sobs and takes several deep breaths to try to calm himself down. You took a glass of water and gave it to him, then you took his hand into yours, whispering words of assurance and kindness. You decided to put him to rest, and it wasn’t necessary to drag Leon into his bed; the moment you step foot inside his room, you can see how severe his depression is. Successfully, you were able to lay him down and remove at least his boots. Leon curled into his blankets and muffled his sobs with his pillows.

“Do you want me to stay here until you fall asleep?” you ask, sitting on his bed with him, moving his hair from his eyes. He nodded silently.

Slowly, his sobs turned into sniffs, and Leon finally fell asleep. It took almost an hour to calm him down completely, but now he was safe and sound into a peaceful slumber, or what appears to be. You don’t recall exactly when you fell asleep on his bed, but you certainly remember when you woke up to the sound of his screams. Leon never told you about his nightmares, and you weren’t expecting that. His chest was drenched in sweat, and he seemed like he couldn’t breathe. His eyes were filled with fear, and he was shaking head to toe.

“Fuck” Leon mutters, his hand running through his hair.

“What happened?” you ask him after turning the lights on.

“Just a nightmare…” he whispers, trying to calm down again.

“How frequent are they?” It was a bold question, but you needed to know.

“Every night” Leon ignores your glance, focusing on his shaky hands again.

“Here, drink it” you give him a glass of water with sugar to calm his nerves. You already had that glass with you the moment you went with him to his room.

“Do you even like me?” Leon suddenly asks you.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re so kind, beautiful, and young, with so much in your future” Leon sighs heavily. “Why would you be with a… broken man like me? I have nothing to offer but traumas and the big baggage of my shitty life”

The pressure you put on biting your lip was so intense that it was enough to cut your skin and make it bleed.

“Who says you have nothing to offer? I don’t think that’s true. You’re a wonderful person, Leon. I can see it every day when you come to see me at the store. The way you smile whenever you are around me, the way your eyes shine…” you said to him, hoping it would be enough to give him some comfort. “I don’t see you as a broken person or a man with the baggage of a shitty life. I can’t imagine what must have happened to you, and I know it must be difficult and hard because that's what I see, but, Leon, the darkness around you doesn’t define who you are. Whatever life did to you, it doesn't dictate your present or future."

No matter how many kind words you say, it isn’t enough for him. Leon blames himself for what happened, and you know he won’t forget it so soon. How can he? Those men trusted him and followed him, and now, they’re all dead. Leon thinks he should’ve saved them, even though he knows he couldn’t guess the car was about to explode.

“I wish I could heal your soul so you wouldn’t suffer anymore, but I can’t” you sigh, then look at his hand. “I wish I could fight all of your demons, but I can’t do that. I’m here and I don’t intend to leave you alone”

After holding his hand, it was the first night Leon actually slept without any more nightmares. When he woke up the next morning, he felt his eyes heavy and he instantly remembered how he cried the night before after his entire squad was murdered. Then, he also remembered that you were there with him the whole time. Finally, he noticed how strange that feeling was - the feeling of being comforted instead of comforting others. It was a strange feeling indeed, but it was a good one.

Lazily, he stood up from his bed and decided to look at himself in the mirror, washing his face and taking a moment to see the collateral damage caused by the bomb. There were a few bruises and cuts on his skin, but huge purple marks on his shoulder, which he dislocated. It still hurts, but it’s enough to keep him in the real world. He’s still alive.

“Morning, princess” you greeted him in his kitchen. “I made breakfast”

“You shouldn’t worry about that, y’know?” Leon says, leaning against his cabinet.

“Too late for that. Now is my job to worry about ya” you said, opening the cabinet above your head on tiptoe, which made him smirk. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, I guess so” he says, nodding his head and helping you get the cornflakes. “Thank you… for sticking up with me last night”

“You know I care about you, right? Since day one” you glance at him with a warm smile. “I really do”

“I care about you, too” Leon blushes slightly. “More than I can tell”

You know Leon pretty well at this point and you know he has trouble speaking of his feelings. You know he can’t express himself properly, and you ain’t stupid. You know someone has hurt him before and you understand why he is the way he is. Fortunately, you are very patient, and that’s enough for now, because you don’t mind giving him time and space.

“I can look at your wounds; maybe I can help” you offered, finishing preparing the breakfast.

“This means I finally earned your secrets?” Leon asks, a small smile on his lips, as he references the conversation you had with him a few months ago.

“You surely did." You nodded, smiling. “Let’s eat first, then I’ll take a look at it”

Leon seemed to enjoy the breakfast you made for him, and, for the first time since you two met, he genuinely seemed happy. However, you knew deep inside he was trying and fighting hard to hide his true feelings; losing his squad certainly shattered him inside, and caused more damage to him than you could ever imagine.

Leon is a master when it comes to hiding his feelings. All over the years, Leon had built around himself an impenetrable shell, not allowing anyone to get closer, and all of that because he is scared of being hurt again. However, if the explosion never happened, if his men never died the way they did, Leon wouldn’t be pretending he’s fine when you know he’s not. The damage is so intense that you’re afraid he won’t recover. It’ll always be there with him, rotting inside him.

You weren’t expecting so many wounds all at once, but when he took off his shirt and you saw his bruised skin, you took a deep breath. He had so many marks, so many stories. You wanted to ask, you wanted to know, but Leon wasn’t ready to share it yet.

“I got this one back in Raccoon City” Leon quietly says, pointing to the scar on his left shoulder. “I got shot”

“How did this happen?” you decided to ask him as you gently cleaned a few cuts he had.

“I was helping a woman named Ada Wong to get a sample of G-Virus, and only a scientist named Annette Birkin had this sample. We were trying to find her and, when we did, she started to shoot Ada. I jumped in front of her, that’s why I got shot” Leon sighs, recalling the events that happened in the sewers.

“This Ada seems very important to you” you smiled at him, cleaning the other cut he had on his neck.

“She was, but it was a long time ago” Leon avoids your gaze. “Not anymore”

“She was the one that hurt you?” you ask him very carefully.

Leon didn’t answer, but his silence speaks for himself. You can see the extension of the damage and how Leon still struggles to deal with whatever happened between him and Ada. He stays silent, maybe trying to understand how his life turned into this mess. Then, he starts to count every time he was betrayed before until this very moment. His blue irises meet yours and all he feels is… peace. There’s no inner storms inside him, he feels completely at ease.

“If I ask you a favor…” Leon suddenly says, changing the conversation.

“What do you need?” you ask him without hesitation.

“Could you come with me to the morgue? There’s something I need to do” Leon sighs, preparing himself for what’s about to happen.

“Of course. I’ll tell my parents I’ll go to the store later” you nodded, quickly picking up your phone to text them.

Leon partially felt guilty, but you were so willing to go with him that he changed his mind after you helped him dress himself — the way he dislocated his shoulder still hurts and he has difficulty with it. You drove to the morgue and judging by the interior of the building, you found out Leon was some sort of agent working for the government. You were able to read the name of the organization. Division of Security Operations.

“So you’re a badass agent, huh?” you ask with enthusiasm as you walk next to him.

“I wouldn’t say I’m a badass” Leon chuckles, still feeling tense.

“Well, if you put your neck at stake to save your country, then you’re definitely a badass” you added, giving him a warm smile.

When you both stepped inside the morgue, he reached out for your hand, seeking any support you could give him. The back wall was a box-shaped cold storage room, and a row of dissecting tables lined the spacious room. And on those dissecting tables were numerous body bags. It's a body bag with the DSO logo on it. Do they really need a logo even on something like this? Irony floated within Leon's chest. Are they planning to sell products with the logo on them, like DSO-branded body bags, DSO-logoed cigarette cases, DSO-logoed pass cases...?

He walked between the body bags to the sound of his boots. Unlike normal bodies, the victims of b.o.w - related incidents were usually sent for examination to specialized research institutions. Although this time the cause of death was due to a bomb, not a zombie attack, the instruction from above was to send the bodies to various laboratories, so they followed suit. This DSO branch’s mortuary was a relay point for passing the bodies from the scene to the laboratory, like a baton in a relay race. It wasn’t easy to simply bury them in a graveyard. The morgue itself wasn’t scary, but the corpses were scary because they stimulated the imagination.

“Would they suddenly start moving? Would I end up like this too?” Leon thinks to himself a little bit loud, enough for you to hear him.

“You won’t” you whispered, squeezing his hand to let him know you were there.

Watching the corpses closely would cause a moment where the elongated shadows would appear like monsters. However, that was before Raccoon City. He had seen too many moments where the dead came back to life.

“I’m not scared of the mortuary anymore; recently, I’ve been thinking about it a lot” Leon frowned as he moved towards the back while swirling his thoughts. He thought he heard a sound from there minutes before.

“What do you mean?” you ask him with curiosity as he approaches one of the bags.

“I was constantly thinking about death and ending everything. I was depressed and thought I had no hope left” Leon confessed, his eyes locked on the body bags in front of him. “But now… I don’t think about that anymore”

He glances at you, finally. Slowly, his eyes meet your hand while you’re holding him and there’s a small smile on his lips, then his blue irises find yours again.

“I used to be scared of the morgue… but coming here with you… is something else” Leon says next. “I couldn’t do this alone”

“I’m glad I can help” you said to him with your usual kindness.

But he stops and turns his attention back to the body bags and sighs. His entire demeanor changed and suddenly, he found himself fighting hard to keep doing this. He needed that. He owed his men at least this final goodbye.

“What kind of adult did I want to become when I was a child?” Leon thinks to himself as he approached one of the body bags.

The zipper was slightly open, and the body bag seemed like it was about to move any moment. It’s common for something that seems like it’s about to move to actually move.

Leon carelessly closed the zipper. Was it because of the sharp sound that, suddenly, another body bag bounced behind him? Inside the body bag, the zombie was wiggling and struggling. It seemed unhappy, as if it had been woken up from a deep sleep by force. Leon pulled out his gun from his holster and squeezed the trigger.

“What kind of adult did I want to become? I definitely didn’t want a life like this”

V. ACCEPTANCE

After everything that happened with his squad, Leon knew he needed time off of his office. Decided to get his mind off everything and take a break, Leon chose the Rocky Mountains in Colorado as his destination. Instead of going there alone, he thought it would be good to spend more time with you, mostly because he felt safe around you and due to the nature of his job and everything he saw, he needed to feel that safety only you provided him.

You had to explain to your parents why you would be going on a vacation, but they understood with no problems; they didn’t know about Leon because you were fearing some trouble because of the age gap, so you felt they weren’t exactly ready to meet him. How could you explain to them you were apparently dating a man eleven years older than you? It would be one hell of a surprise.

It was 9 a.m. in the mountainous area near Rocky Mountain National Park, located in northern Colorado. The national park was about a two-hour drive from the state capital, Denver. Along the way, there were several viewpoints where numerous travelers parked their cars to enjoy the scenic beauty. Even in the mountainous region of the Rockies, the mountains around this area were not exceptionally high. They were just before the tree line, covered with spruce and fir trees on the subalpine slopes. The forest appeared like a beautifully groomed brush, while wildflowers bloomed modestly, sheltered by large rocks.

“This place is incredible” you sound mesmerized by the incredible view from the hotel.

“You haven’t been in places like this before?” Leon asks you with curiosity.

“I barely leave my house” you chuckle, leaving your bag on the bed. “I just work at my parent’s store and go to college”

“It feels like I’m dating a baby” Leon chuckles, also leaving his bag next to yours.

“We’re dating, huh?” you teased, taking off your sneakers.

“Yeah, we are” Leon nods his head, smiling. “I know I haven’t officially asked you, but I’m too old for that”

“It’s fine, old man. I’m just messing with you” you said, playing with his fingers.

“Old man? Now I’m offended” Leon teases back, smiling.

“You said it first” you replied to him, your hands reaching his brown hair. “By the way… I have something for you”

Leon glanced at you, frowning. The mischievous smile on your lips immediately told him you were planning something. He sat up on the bed and kept his eyes fixed on you, waiting patiently for whatever you were about to do.

“I got you a birthday present” you said with enthusiasm, catching him by surprise. “I know I’m a few days late, but I wanted to give you something for your 37th birthday”

“You didn’t have to” Leon whispered in shock as you gave him the small box.

He unwrapped the present you gave him and found a beautiful dagger, silver and shining, also pretty sharp. Leon knew immediately that you probably paid a lot on that and he felt bad. He took a deep breath and glanced at you.

“This was very expensive. You shouldn’t waste your money with me like that” Leon says to you.

“It’s a gift. You can’t give it back” you said to him, a hint of playfulness in your voice as you insisted for him to keep it.

“That’s not fair” Leon complains, laughing softly.

“It’s pretty fair to me, though” you said to him, smirking. “It’s just a dagger, not a diamond or something related. I know your job is kind of dangerous and you might need it”

“Okay, you win. I’ll take it” Leon sighs in defeat. “About my job… I know I haven’t been extremely open about it, but…”

“It’s okay, I don’t want you to feel forced to share this with me if you don’t feel ready” you stopped him before he could finish his sentence.

“I wish I could be more open to you” Leon glanced at his hands, feeling bad because of that.

“Start simple and small. You don’t have to tell me absolutely everything at once” you placed your hand on his shoulder, petting him.

“Simple and small? How could I do that?” Leon frowned at the idea. He always thought it was impossible to open up about his trauma.

You pondered for a few moments, thinking about a way to help him talk about his issues in a positive way.

“Start with something like… why don't you like dogs?” you suggested. A while ago you noticed Leon had a certain aversion to dogs.

“I… um… I was attacked by dogs in Raccoon City. They weren’t common dogs, they were infected, something like that” Leon found himself surprised by the way he spoke about this issue so easily. “Then, at Spain, I had a few encounters with wolves also infected with a parasite, monstrous things”

“See? That one was pretty easy” you said, encouraging him to keep talking. “Wanna try to say something else?”

Leon thought about your question for minutes; inside his head, everything that has happened to him was like an endless movie. The trauma, the pain and the events that seem to be haunting him to this day. It was hard to pick one, but then, he reminds himself of your words of being simple and small. He takes a deep breath and quietly, he convinces himself that he can do this.

“Back at Raccoon City, it was my first day at the force and I was 21 at the time” Leon starts, his eyes focused on something else. “I was late, but I think that’s why I’m still alive”

While he was telling you the horrors he saw, you gently placed your hand on his, to let him know you’re there for him. It was a simple and kind gesture, but for him, it meant the world. Leon was only familiar with danger and brutality, so having you by his side providing comfort was enough to penetrate the depth of his former persona. It was enough to rescue the rookie cop buried inside those walls.

“After that night… everything changed. I’m here because of what I did to survive and I’m not exactly proud of it. I can’t stop blaming myself for my past actions, but…” Leon suddenly stops, taking another deep breath.

“You can’t control everything around you, Leon. And not everything that happens to us is our fault. You couldn’t know you were going to be stalked and nearly killed on your first day… you didn't know that there was a virus outbreak in Raccoon City that night…” you said to him, placing your hand on his shoulder. “You need to understand that this isn’t your baggage to carry. What happened that day wasn’t your fault”

Leon had your words playing on repeat inside his head. Even though he was early in the morning drinking his sorrows away, he was still thinking about what you said. He also felt partially guilty for leaving you asleep in the bed while he was drinking, but the other part of him told you knew him pretty well and you wouldn’t be judging him for this. His head was a roller coaster and at this very moment, he wasn’t at the top.

Leon sat on the first floor of a lodge-style hotel in the rural town. The hotel was two stories tall, made of reinforced concrete, but designed to resemble traditional log construction. There was only one waiter and one chef, making it far from a trendy establishment — a rather run-down place. He was having breakfast in the first-floor restaurant. Though the restaurant wasn't popular, the food was decent. Approaching footsteps came from behind him — two sets of them.

"--To come fully armed to such a peaceful town," Leon said without turning around.

"Leon S. Kennedy, the ace of the DSO, a special agent organization directly under the President of the United States," a voice replied.

Finally, he turned around to see Chris Redfield and Rebecca Chambers standing there.

"Chris and... oh, the renowned expert in biohazard research, Professor Rebecca Chambers. What do you want?" he asked.

"It's work. Cooperate," Chris said in an uncompromising tone.

Chris and Rebecca sat across from him. And it was noticeable that he wore an annoyed expression.

"I'm on vacation."

"...In the past, while protecting the President's daughter, Ashley Graham, you fought and annihilated the cult group Los Illuminados. They were using special bio-organic weapons called Plagas," Chris said.

"I've forgotten about that old stuff," Leon replied simply.

"Do you plan on loafing around in this town for another week?" Chris asked.

"I don't know what will happen in the future," Leon retorted.

"Beer, please," Rebecca chuckled at the reference to an old movie, while Chris wore an unamused expression.

Leon called over a passing waitress with a casual wave to place his order, but Chris interrupted him.

"Cancel the beer."

"No, it's not canceled."

“Come on… what the fuck?!”

"I don't need any more alcohol."

"Cut it out. What's going on?"

"That's my line."

The waitress looked between the two of them suspiciously and before walking away. Eventually, Leon pulled out a flask from his back pocket and took a swig as a substitute for the additional order that couldn't be fulfilled.

"You–!" Chris leaned forward.

"Enough, both of you," Rebecca interjected. "--Leon. We apologize for disturbing your vacation. However, we need the information you possess," Rebecca said.

Finally, Leon showed a willingness to listen.

"...What's the situation?" he asked.

Chris and Rebecca had to explain to him what happened earlier at the university. The case was simple. Glenn Arias was a new threat and they needed to stop him at all costs. However, they didn’t know how Leon was suffering inside; they couldn’t know about the recent events. Leon wearily intertwines his gestures and continues,

"Just before I took my vacation... I was involved in a DSO mission in Bethesda to apprehend a treacherous senator who was selling internal information to a bioterrorist organization."

The disgusted irritation was evident in his movements, his expression, and his voice.

"You know..." Leon begins. "Here's the thing: the informant we used betrayed us. We fell into a trap instead. A massive explosion killed many of my colleagues... and then there was the incident with the resurrection of the corpses you guys were involved in... It's all a mess,"

Leon explains, letting out a heavy sigh. It's a sigh that escapes unintentionally, like a burden he carries.

"I had planned to become a police officer in Raccoon City. It was my dream job. But on my first day, there was a massive zombie outbreak, and from there... it never stopped," Leon pauses and shakes his head. "I've been fighting this whole time. There's no end in sight, and it only keeps getting worse. Have I been living just to fight zombies and the people who create them?"

"What are you trying to say? That you don't want to cooperate with us?" Chris asks.

"It's not that..." Leon's tone is uncertain, "Well, maybe it is."

With a hesitant tone, Leon continues

“What exactly is our goal? How far do we have to run? Do we have to keep running endlessly? The villains keep coming, one after another, while the good people keep dying. Maybe it's better to lose our minds."

Then, Chris found himself forced to explain to Leon what they were facing. He showed pictures of Cathy White, the agent that was turned into a bio-weapon. And worse, her son she killed. He showed the photos taken during the autopsy and how Glenn turned people into something else purely because of power.

"Killing him is the goal," Chris declares.

"That's only your goal, not mine," Leon retorts, his voice filled with resentment.

Tension fills the air between them once again.

"Hey," Rebecca interrupts, breaking the silence just as she did before. "So, Leon, you're exhausted," Rebecca points at Leon and then gestures to Chris. "And Chris, you're frustrated. There's one thing both tired people and irritable people have in common."

"What do we have in common?" Chris asks in response.

They both look at each other with a wide-eyed grin.

"You only think about yourselves," Rebecca replies.

"I–" Chris tries to interject, but Rebecca continues.

"Chris, all you talk about is wanting to kill Glenn Arias. After helping me, you didn't say a single word mourning the sacrifices of our colleagues. Leon, you're acting like a college student in their moratorium period. People get tired of running. But if we stop running, more people will lose their lives."

Rebecca takes out a trigger-activated needleless syringe from her small bag. In front of the bewildered duo, she abruptly presses the syringe against her left forearm and pulls the trigger, causing her blood to collect in the test tube attached to the syringe.

"I'll tell you something important. We're already infected," she says.

"What?" Leon's expression tightens in response.

Rebecca continues speaking in a tone reminiscent of a teacher addressing a poor student.

"The truth is, it's difficult to estimate just how many people have been infected by Arias' new virus. The problem is, we don't know the identity of the trigger that activates it."

As she speaks, Rebecca removes the test tube from the syringe and seals it with a cap.

"The virus is activated by something only Arias knows. When that happens, the dead rise, and living humans become bio-weapons."

Rebecca glances lightly at Leon.

"If things continue like this, this city will eventually become a living hell. There won't be any safe places."

Leon remains silent, averting his gaze.

"Just so you know, a prototype of the antivirus has been developed," Rebecca says. "It actually worked on me. However, the effectiveness of the antivirus is unstable without knowing the conditions for the activation of Arias' virus. When to administer it and how long it remains effective..."

Rebecca then places the sealed test tube into a small protective case and puts it on the table.

"My blood should provide valuable data. If I die, make sure it reaches a reputable research institution that you can trust."

"You're not in danger. We'll protect you," Chris says firmly.

"What?" Leon asks, confused.

"It seems like you're misunderstanding, BSAA soldier," Rebecca lightly dismisses Chris's assumption.

There’s a slight smirk on Leon’s lips as he hears that.

"The forefront of pandemic response is not the BSAA, but the research field. How many doctors and colleagues do you think I've seen die in conflict-ridden African countries or small Middle Eastern nations used as testing grounds for bio-weapons?" Rebecca questions.

Chris tries to say something in response, but his voice gets stuck in his throat, and only faint breaths escape.

"After I left the team, you two might have fought against plenty of mad scientists. But science can only be countered with science. Unless benevolent technology advances, we will never have a chance of winning. We fight not only for ourselves but for others. Have you both understood at least a little of what I'm saying?" Rebecca asks.

She stands up and adds, "Cool your heads," before leaving her seat.

"She's a great woman," Leon comments.

"We can't handle it on our own," Chris remarks, watching Rebecca leave, and he and Leon exchanged a wry smile.

And then, here it comes. The urge to talk about what happened one year ago.

"Leon, China was tough," Chris says, referring to that incident.

"Yeah, it was like a zombie version of Black Hawk Down." he nods in response.

"At that time, I wanted to quit the BSAA so badly," Chris admits, surprising Leon, "After getting involved with Umbrella, I witnessed too many deaths. We..."

Chris trails off. His expression was heavy, as if lead had settled in the depths of his heart. Then Chris realized: Why does it make me so angry to see him like this? He was too much like his old self.

"It makes you want to quit... makes me want to quit," Chris says, emphasizing his point. Leon falls into silence. And Chris delivers the final blow. "But, the moment we quit, all of our subordinates and friends will have died in vain. We are the survivors of Raccoon City. We carry that burden."

Chris falls silent, and the air becomes still. The waitress looks annoyed by the silence. For a few moments, there’s nothing but the said silence.

"Leon, I always thought you were a cheerful guy no matter what," Chris breaks the silence.

"No one is like that," Leon replies, “Well… I’m not. I've always been a stress-tolerant guy. I've been able to do what I've done because of it. But now look back on it. In Tall Oaks, I killed the president.”

"Technically, you had to save the President infected with the virus," Chris quickly adds, trying to provide some context.

“But,” Leon shakes his head, "But the fact remains that I pulled the trigger, I shot him, and I was even suspected of assassinating the President afterward. Although I managed to clear my name, the mastermind behind that incident turned out to be the President's aide. The DSO was once called the 'Sword of the President,' but now it sounds ironically fitting."

Chris remains silent, attentively listening to Leon's words.

"Chris," Leon continues. "I've returned to active duty, but every time I face the new President, I feel anxious. I can sense his unease as well. The President's aide had sold his soul to B.O.W. terrorism. Who's next? The Secretary of Defense? The Vice President? What's become of the foundation that supports the soldiers in the field? They keep using us, while the higher-ups continue to flounder, grow bloated... They only think about shifting blame onto others."

He pauses for a moment. There’s so much pain.

Leon furrows his brow and lowers his voice. "Perhaps the reason entities like Umbrella persist is that our society harbors a fundamental evil... I can't help but feel that way now."

Even agreeing with this stupid mission, Leon can’t go without saying goodbye. He feels guilty, but the moment he sees you, everything feels completely right. He sat at the bed, watching you perfectly asleep, imagining what kind of dreams you were having. Leon sighs and shakes his head.

“Hey, sweetheart” Leon says when he sees you waking up.

“Hi” you whisper, rubbing your eyes.

“Listen… something happened and my colleagues need me. Will you be okay here?” he asks you, his thumb trailing your cheek.

“Will you come back?” you ask him, sounding a little groggy.

“And leave my baby girl here all alone? Of course I’ll come back” he smiles sweetly at you.

“Ok… I’ll be here” you nodded your head, closing your eyes to go back to sleep.

Something about you made him see, for the first time, the bright side of things. Maybe it was the fact that you were younger than him, and also the fact that you were full of energy - he was just an old and bitter man. But, hey, he’s learning how to cope with every shit that has happened to him.

Before you, Leon was ready to die.

He was ready to embrace death, he already had made peace with his inner demons. But everything changed when you came into his life. Suddenly, he thought he could live and find happiness and death wasn’t in his thoughts anymore. It was like you were able to bring him back from his darkness. He wasn’t rotting inside. You were able to rescue him from himself and return the light he needed.

But if he thought he wasn’t close to death, he was wrong. Leon never thought he would face something like Glenn Arias and come close to death, but he had his job to do. Chris needed his help and Leon finally found closure to something that was weighing on his head; the death of his squad wasn’t his fault and he found the real culprit. He found the peace he was desperately looking for. And he was able to see another sunrise and come back to you.

It was a repetitive cycle. Leon recently started to wonder if anything he did was futile. That's why he took a vacation and drowned his sorrows in alcohol. It was a kind of protest, perhaps. A protest against the grand concepts of this world and destiny. A statement of "I’m not going on like this forever, I’m not going to do it," or something of that sort. But fate was cruel. In the end, human life rarely goes well by one's own choices. Perhaps humans are merely chosen by fate without their consent. Yet, Leon now felt that it was okay like that. Being chosen doesn't make him a hero by default. He becomes a hero reluctantly because he was chosen. And that's fine.

The merged form approached Leon with an eerie growl, swinging its massive fist. Leon leaped back to dodge it, and the merged form's punch shattered one of the spires on the rooftop into tiny fragments. It had the destructive power of a construction hammer, with each strike resembling the impact of a tank cannon round. Leon intentionally slid and jumped into the merged form's feet, thinking that at such a large size, close range might become a blind spot. He positioned himself beneath the massive body, lying on his back and firing his handgun. The shots were practically point-blank, but they were still deflected by the hardened muscles and exoskeleton.

"Doesn't matter," Leon muttered involuntarily. "I'll do whatever it takes, even if it's futile. Today's a good day to die anyway."

The merged form kicked out.

The enemy's movements were deceptively swift, and Leon was sent flying as if hit by a car. His body tumbled through the air until it finally collided with a gargoyle statue, coming to a stop. The impact was so intense that his breath nearly ceased. However, the merged form continued its pursuit. It threw a straight punch, a blow that would surely result in instant death if landed, but Leon managed to evade it with a jump. Not only did he dodge it, but in mid-air, Leon twisted his body and unleashed a spinning kick. His boot-clad foot connected with the grotesque face of the merged form.

Whether it would have any effect or not didn't matter. This strike was my will. Of course, a kick from a mere human wouldn't have any effect. The merged form retaliated with its opposite hand, grabbing hold of Leon.

"Gah!" A groan escaped Leon's throat involuntarily. The massive fist tightened around him like a vice, and within a few seconds, he felt himself being crushed like a tomato.

"Leon!" Chris emerged from the penthouse.

In his fading consciousness, Leon thought about you. The way you smiled whenever you were with him and the sweet perfume you love to use. The way your hands embrace him at night, helping him sleep safely, without any nightmares to harm him. And then, he doesn’t want to die anymore. Please, God, don’t let me die this way.

Chris picked up the fully automatic handgun that Arias had dropped along the way and unleashed a barrage of bullets at the merged form. For a brief moment, it seemed like the merged form's focus shifted, and its grip loosened slightly, but that was all.

Was my life meant to end here, crushed by this grotesque monster? Leon wondered, his pessimism threatens to shatter him. Leon wasn't the type to easily get this depressed or overthink things too much. Still, he felt more than a little exhausted.

What kind of adult did I want to become when I was a child? I never imagined I would be burdened with the stigma of assassinating a president. At least, I didn't want a life like this ― It doesn't matter what I want. There's no such thing as a person who can live the life they desire. Arias must have felt the same way. In the end…

VI. ABSOLUTION

When he came back, you noticed something inside him had changed.

After the fight with Arias, Leon noticed that life was much more than death, darkness and depression. At least, he started to think like that when he almost got killed. And his only thought was coming back to you. No, he couldn’t die like that and leave you alone. His arm was injured, but he was alive. And he was back.

“What happened to your arm?” you asked him when you saw him entering the room.

“Remember that day in the morgue when you told me I was a badass government agent?” Leon asks you back, sitting on the bed next to you.

“Yep, I do” you nodded, starting to massage his tense muscles.

“Well… I’m not this kind of agent. I work under the president’s orders. I fight bioweapons for a living… since that hell in Raccoon City” Leon sighs, finally opening about his job.

“Bioweapons? Like zombies and shit?” you ask him with curiosity.

“Worse than zombies, but yes” Leon nodded with a slight smirk. “It’s dangerous, and this time I nearly got killed… thing is, my job requires a lot of my time, it forces me to not be around for God knows how long. It scares me because I don’t know if you can live this chaotic life with me…”

“Wait, wait, wait… slow down” you held his hand and squeezed it softly. “Everyone deserves a second chance in life, Leon. You were alone for too much time and I don’t mind if you need to go somewhere else to fight bioweapons. If this means I get to see these pretty eyes of yours and this sweet smile every time you come home… I’m willing to live this chaotic life with you”

Leon couldn’t believe your words. After being deprived of something so human and getting used to it, Leon felt he was about to explode. It was too much for him to handle. At this point, he knew perfectly he was experiencing anxiety. But it was a good one.

“I don’t want you to get hurt. If we do this, I’m gonna get you wrapped up in something bad someday… and I’ll never forgive myself if this happens” Leon tells you, sounding extremely worried.

“I know you won’t let anything bad happen to me. And besides, I can take care of myself. I made self defense classes” you laugh sweetly, a symphony to his ears.

“Are you sure?” Leon asks, and those big puppy eyes of his wanting nothing but assurance.

“Honey, if this wasn’t true, I wouldn’t be here” you chuckled, kissing his forehead.

After what happened, you decided to introduce Leon to your family as your boyfriend. But before that, you convinced him he needed to improve a little. Getting rid of the alcohol was the first step. He started to see a therapist and work harder on his issues, which influenced a lot of your relationship. He was more happy and willing to do things he and you both liked. One year after that incident with his squad being killed and his mission with his friends, you noticed he was ready to meet your parents.

“I’m nervous” Leon tells you when you both were entering your home.

“Why? It’s not like we’ve been dating secretly for almost three years. Besides, they’ll think you’re cute, don’t worry” you giggled at him.

“I’m not so sure about that” he muttered, following you inside your parents place.

You could clearly tell how anxious he was. However, he always felt at ease on your side, and it was like you had the power to make him relax, like nothing could harm him and the world was finally at peace. When you stepped inside the house with Leon right behind you for a Christmas dinner, your parents were already expecting both of you.

“Mom, dad… this is Leon. The guy I was talking about” you introduced him to your parents with certain expectations.

“You clearly got my taste for man” Leon heard your mom whispering to you, which made his cheeks turn red.

“So… um… how long are you two hanging out?” your dad asked and you glanced quickly at Leon.

“Three years, I guess. We met at the store” you tell your parents. “I didn’t tell you before because Leon has a busy schedule. He’s not always in town, so…”

“Well, moonpie, if you’re happy, we’re happy too” your mom says with a gracious smile on her lips.

Leon wasn’t expecting to be so welcomed into your family, but the fact that your parents treated him so kindly melted his heart. He got himself thinking about the dinner for at least one week, mostly because part of him was still thinking it was weird to receive so much kindness and affection, especially coming from a real family. He wasn’t expecting to be playing cards with your dad while you and your mom were in the kitching talking about girl’s stuff, but it was enough to make him see he made the right choice. That it was okay for him to finally experience love.

“I like your light brown hair now that you finally stopped dying it” you said, sitting between his legs in the living room.

“My emo era is over” he chuckles sweetly, like a melody.

“May it rest in peace” you made the signal of the cross. “

“Changing the subject, tomorrow I gotta go to San Francisco. Work stuff” he says to you, softly kissing your neck.

“Yeah? Am I getting some gift?” you whisper, feeling the shivers down your spine with his lips against your skin.

“Do I ever go on a mission and come back empty handed?” Leon asks you, his soft lips pressing more against your neck and you can feel him softly biting you.

The thing is, Leon is like a porcelain doll. He needs to be treated with softness and kindness, because deep down, he is vulnerable. The way his lips met your skin was a clear sign that he was ready for you. He was finally ready to be yours. However, loving Leon also needed patience, and after three years, you could tell he wanted that too.

“Do you want to do this before you leave, handsome?” you ask him teasingly, holding his hands as he keeps kissing your neck.

“Yes, I do,” he nods, almost moaning in your ear.

He gently took you to his bedroom, the place was almost a sanctuary for him. He laid you down on his bed and removed his shirt, and this time, he didn’t seem ashamed of himself. You stood up from his bed and sat him on the edge, your hands trailing down his skin like he was a roller coaster. He closed his eyes, his breath soft and calm, although he anticipated what was about to happen. Leon craved for you.

“I’ll take care of you” you whispered, leaving soft kisses across his neck and chest.

You sat gently between his legs, your sweet and soft fingers removing his pants and reaching his already hardened cock. He sat there, observing you with those big and blue puppy eyes, like he was savoring your image. When you took all his length inside your mouth and gently started to suck him, Leon felt he was in heaven. It felt so good, so powerful.

Tears started to fall from his eyes and he cried. Not because you were hurting him, dear lord, of course not! It was because he finally felt that he deserved to be loved. Your tongue did an amazing job on his cock and when he came, he felt his body at ease. Leon moaned with the sudden sensation, it was stronger than he last remembered. But it was because of you.

“I love you” he says when you touch his face, wiping his tears.

Loving Leon needed patience, you knew that already.

However, living with him brought new challenges that you weren’t expecting at all. He would be gone for weeks, then he comes back out of nowhere. He always forgets to send you a message to let you know he’s coming back, but that’s okay, because his lack of patience to deal with technology amuses you. He always sends an emoji out of context, which makes you laugh and you find it very cute when he gets disappointed for misunderstanding those little and yellow faces. He’s getting there, don’t worry about that.

When he’s at home, things turn out differently. He always helps you with the chores, likes to tease you whenever you’re cooking his favorite meal and at the end of the day, you two are together on the couch watching some silly movie while he complains about it and softly scratches your leg. Sharing a domestic life was something he never thought he would have, not after everything he went through alone.

Now that he's back from whatever he did in San Francisco, you have another job to do. Tend to his injuries. It’s a small sacrifice to pay whenever he comes back hurt; this time he has purple marks all over his body and face. You don’t ask what on earth happened, because you know he can’t really give details, but at least he’s safe and sound with you again.

“Stop moving, old man!” you tell him, trying to clean a small cut he had on his neck.

“That hurts,” Leon replied back, flinching slightly.

“I know, but someone has to clean it” you rolled your eyes, applying a Barbie band-aid on his neck.

“Please, don’t tell me I got the Barbie thing on my neck” Leon closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Next time I’ll get you a cat one” you wink playfully at him.

After so many death experiences and the inner wish of being dead, he’s glad that he found the absolution that he always wanted. He looks at you with amusement, part of him finds it hard to believe that he’s so lucky to have you, but the other part is glad that you are real and you love him for who he really is. You took every damaged part of him and loved with such intensity that it was enough to bring him back from that dark place he was at. He forgave himself, allowed his soul to heal and to be loved. Life had gifted him with the second chance to live, made him see the beautiful things again. You took him in when he was on the lower part of his life, and your love brought him back. He knows he’s getting older, but he doesn’t mind spending his days with you, because you are the only thing in his life that makes sense.

And he’s fine with that.

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eluminium · 4 months ago

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sometimes i think about how absolutely BANGER Gem's villain aesthetic was in Secret Life. Like, she's got this whole vibe of infection and disease around her and it slaps so hard. First you got the End portal stuff with her arm and eye when she goes Yellow (alongside the implication of her ripping out her own eye to use for the End Portal) and later you have her as Patient Zero for the boogeyman/zombie outbreak. And she kills just as indiscriminately as an epidemic would, including her own allies when they offer themselves to her. Hell, she kills Scott TWICE and technically kills Impulse twice too, once by her own hands and once when Bdubs kills him right in front of her to continue the spread of the curse.

And then you combine all this with the idea of her being a deer and it just gets better. Not only are deer prone to uncanny valley vibes, but they're also extremely susceptible to Chronic Wasting Disease, aka Zombie Deer Disease. Which is scary as shit, like all prion diseases. It literally eats away at the brain and leaves the animal a husk. And it's completely incurable, 100% fatal, and spreads easily (not to humans though, thank fuck.)

Now imagine this diseased horned prey creature hunting and killing whatever gets in its way while infections far beyond its ability to comprehend ravage its body and mind. And everything it kills comes back just as screwed up and terrifying. Very few can fight back against it, let alone slay it. No one is safe, the ones who survive either do so because they're Something Not Human (Grian the Watcher), Already Biologically Dead (ZOMBIECleo) or just got lucky and never got caught (Scott). However, there is one last piece of horror unaccounted for. The carrier, no matter how thin, no matter how much drool leaks from her mouth, no matter how erratic and unholy her behavior, is still aware. Still in control.

There's an independent will behind the spread.

#geminitay #secret life #can you tell i'm still kinda wacky about secret life #the VIBES and AESTHETICS went SO HARD #I warmed up to the whole “zombie apocalypse” with time what can i say #anyways disease is TERRIFYING #PRION DISEASES ESPECIALLY #SECRET LIFE GEM IS SCARY AF FOR THAT. FUCKED UP DISEASED DEER GIRL WHO ONLY A FEW OTHERS CAN GO TOE TO TOE WITH #dose of gem

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cintiri · 1 month ago

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I've read like all 4 docs on ao3 about SY and SJ sharing a body, and I'm soooo not normal about this concept oh my God. So, it's time to ramble about my take on the concept, of course.

Most things I have read have SY transmigrate at his usual date, but... What if he didn't? What if he transmigrated when SJ was a child on the streets?

For the purposes of this, the person who has the most control of the body is based around soul strength, willpower, and collaboration between souls.

In the beginning, SY has very low soul strength, since he just straight up died, but being a child, SJ's is not much better. They both have obscene amounts of willpower, see canon. And at the beginning? Oh, SJ does NOT want to collaborate.

SY hasn't really gotten the whole "baby scum villain" thing yet, and thinks his soul has been glued to a particularly annoying street kid, so he tries to be patient with SJ, but it's not easy! Holy shit, this kid is a turbo brat who hates him! He is constantly threatening to exorcize SY! Like, kid, you can't exorcize me, you're eight. But SY does end up being useful at times, pointing out danger, reading signs that SJ can't, using his adult knowledge to help him as best he can. By the time they get to the Qiu manor, SJ grudgingly trusts and is maybe attached to his weird ghost hanger-on.

And then the Qiu manor hits. It's... Bad. Really bad. Qi-Ge is gone, hopefully to come back to them someday, but someday is not now, and they need to survive the day. Shen Yuan can't get over the fact that this is just a kid, that all of this is happening to a child. He is an adult, maybe he's not the most responsible adult, or the best person to handle this situation, but damn it SY has to do something.

The first time Shen Yuan takes over completely, it's during a beating in the first week. Before, even if SY had some control of the body, SJ was usually able to yank it back at least partially when he wanted to. He was aware of what was going on. But this time, Shen Jiu feels the first few strikes hit his back before Shen Yuan bubbles up, wrapping around him and pulling him down into blissful oblivion.

When Shen Jiu wakes up, it's over, and Shen Yuan is using some meager supplies he got from god knows where to tend to their wounds. Shen Jiu is scared, he didn't know Shen Yuan could take over that completely, but he's also... Relieved. And confused.

"Why did you take over then? If you really could steal my body, why didn't you do it earlier?"

"You didn't deserve that, Shen Jiu. I- how could I see that and not try and help? Not try and protect you?"

Shen Jiu froze. And then, slowly, started crying. Almost immediately SY starts fussing, asking if their wounds hurt too badly, if he needs him to dull the pain more. SJ sniffles, wiping his eyes, and asks; "More?"

Shen Yuan never explains that, but as SJ goes through the Qiu manor, he realizes that he is absolutely not in as much pain as he really should be. It's easier to bear when the pain is shared between the two of them.

The first time that Qiu Jianluo realizes something is off is during one of his lessons. As the brush is placed in Shen Jiu's hands, the angry, venomous child behind a mask of fear fades away, and he is instead facing calm indifference. The characters are perfect, every one of them, even the ones which there is no possible way Shen Jiu should have been able to know.

This pattern continues. Shen Jiu knows things he shouldn't. He is abnormally good at talking circles around guards and other servants, confusing and manipulating them enough to evade Qiu Jianluos summons in ways that couldn't possibly be his fault, orchestrating many of their confrontations with Qiu Haitang around as protection.

Shen Jiu is a good actor, he's smart, he's quick, but he isn't a fully grown adult master poser like our Shen Yuan is. Shen Yuan, number one rules lawyer and actor, is incredibly good at driving Qiu Jianluo up the wall without him being able to retaliate, and when he does manage to get in a beating, SJ/SY is not nearly as responsive to the pain as he should be, and heals faster than he should.

This is because the lovely new flowers that Qiu Haitang has planted in the garden at SJs kind suggestion are a PIDW plant that provides accelerated healing.

Eventually, it's too much, and Qiu Jianluo KNOWS something is up. He calls a rogue cultivator by the name of Wu Yanzi in to investigate the problem, and Wu Yanzi finds, and exorcises it. Shen Jiu is terrified and panicked, and Wu Yanzi, who had seen Shen Jiu's high spiritual potential, places Shen Yuan into a spirit trapping pouch and tells Shen Jiu to burn the Qiu manor to the ground and bring him as much money and jewelry as possible if he wants his little ghost back.

So the Qiu Manor burns, and Shen Jiu joins Wu Yanzi, significantly less willingly this time. Qi-Ge is nowhere to be seen, and Shen Yuan isn't there to save him anymore.

Shen Jiu supposes he will have to save himself.

#svsss #scum villian self saving system #shen jiu #shen yuan #shen brothers #also SY has been taking like absurd amounts of pain #like. scary amounts. to the point where SJ is gonna be fucked up for a bit by the chronic pain that has manifested on him by SY leaving #SJ is in far worse shape health wise then canon #rip #thats the SY stubbornness for you #big brother ghost au

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misswynters · 2 months ago

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Found family

sevika x gn!reader

short drabble.

synopsis. After a fight that resulted in casualties, a child was left alone. Parentless. Seeing yourself in the poor kid you decided to take them in. Sevika however isn’t very keen at first.

a/n. this is mainly for my self and others affected by the happenings of act 2.

Bodies littered the dimly lit streets of Zaun, the metallic tang of blood and gunpowder thick in the air. It was the aftermath of a fight. You navigated the wreckage, searching for survivors, for anyone who might need help. That’s when you heard it, a the muffled sound of sobbing. You followed the sound to a crumbling alley, and there she was. A small girl, no older than seven, sat curled against the wall, her face streaked with dirt and tears. She hugged a stuffed toy. It was a rabbit with a missing ear. She hugged it so tightly, looking like she might crush it.

“Hey there,” you said gently, crouching down to her level. Her wide, tear-filled eyes met yours, full of fear and confusion.

“Where are your parents?” you asked softly.

She shook her head, her lip trembling. “Dead,” she whispered.

Your chest tightened. You didn’t need to hear more. You’d seen it too many times. Lives ripped apart by the chaos of Zaun’s underbelly, families destroyed in an instant. You glanced over your shoulder, spotting Sevika a few feet away. She was standing guard, her massive frame silhouetted against the flickering streetlights. Her mechanical arm glinted in the dim light, a stark reminder of the battles she’d fought and the damage she’d endured.

“Sevika,” you called, turning back to the girl.

She approached, her footsteps heavy, her expression unreadable. “What?”

You straightened, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “We’re taking her with us.”

Sevika’s brow furrowed, and she crossed her arms. “What? No. That’s not—”

“Look at her,” you interrupted, your voice firm. “She has no one.”

“That’s not our problem,” Sevika said, her tone harsh but not entirely unkind.

“It is now,” you replied, meeting her gaze.

Sevika sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. She knew better than to argue when you got like this. “Fine. But this will fall on you.”

The girl, who introduced herself as Lyla, stayed quiet as you brought her home. She clung to you like a lifeline, her small hand gripping yours tightly. Sevika kept her distance, her usual gruff demeanor masking whatever she was feeling.

At first, Sevika was… less than enthusiastic about the little girl’s presence. She grumbled about the added responsibility, about how Zaun was no place for a child. But you noticed the way she softened when lyla looked at her with those big, hopeful eyes.

One night, you found them in the living room. Sevika was sitting on the couch, her mechanical arm resting on the armrest, while lyla sat on the floor, surrounded by scraps of paper and crayons. She was drawing something. A crude but recognizable version of Sevika, complete with her glowing arm.

“That’s you,” Lyla said, holding up the drawing proudly.

Sevika raised an eyebrow, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. “Yeah? Looks pretty badass.”

Lyla giggled, and for the first time, you saw Sevika’s tough exterior crack.

It wasn’t long before Sevika started stepping into the role of protector. She walked Lyla to and from the school you’d set up with some other locals. She taught her how to throw a punch, how to defend herself in case she ever needed to.

“Again,” Sevika said one afternoon, her voice firm but patient.

Lyla wiped the sweat from her brow and squared her stance, throwing another punch at the training pad Sevika held.

“Better,” Sevika said with a nod. “Keep your guard up.”

You watched from the doorway, a smile tugging at your lips. “You’re turning her into a little fighter,” you teased.

Sevika glanced at you, her expression softening. “Someone has to teach her how to survive this shithole.”

“Well someone has to teach her how to live,” you countered gently, stepping into the room.

Sevika smirked. “That’s your department.”

The turning point came when Lyla got into trouble. You were out running errands when the commotion started. A group of men, big, mean, and clearly looking for a fight, had cornered lyla in an alley. You heard the shouting before you saw them.

“You’ve got guts, kid, messing with Smeech’s men,” one of them sneered.

Lyla, to her credit, didn’t back down. She stood her ground, her fists clenched. “Leave me alone!”

Before you could intervene, a familiar figure stepped into the alley. Sevika. Her presence was enough to make the men hesitate. She towered over them, her mechanical arm sparking ominously.

“You’ve got five seconds to walk away,” Sevika said, her voice low and dangerous.

One of the men laughed nervously. “Or what?”

Sevika didn’t bother answering. She lunged forward, her mechanical fist colliding with the man’s jaw and sending him sprawling. The others didn’t stick around to find out what else she was capable of. When the alley was clear, Sevika turned to Lyla, her expression a mix of anger and concern.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she demanded.

Lyla looked down at her feet, her defiance fading. “I just… they were being mean to that old lady. I had to do something.”

Sevika sighed, running a hand through her hair. “You’re gonna get yourself killed one day, kid.”

“Sorry,” Lyla mumbled.

Sevika crouched down, placing a hand on Lyla’s shoulder. “Just… don’t do anything stupid, alright? You’ve got people who care about you now.”

Lyla nodded, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability in Sevika’s eyes. The fear of losing someone she’d come to care about. That night, as the three of you sat around the dinner table, the tension from earlier had melted away. Lyla recounted the day’s events with an exaggerated flair, her hands gesturing wildly as she described Sevika’s rescue.

“And then she punched him so hard he flew across the alley!” Lyla said, her eyes wide with admiration.

Sevika chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re gonna make me sound like a hero.”

“You are,” Lyla said simply, her voice full of sincerity.

You reached over, placing a hand on Sevika’s. “She’s not wrong.”

Sevika glanced at you, her usual smirk replaced by a soft, genuine smile. “Guess I’ve got my work cut out for me,” she said, squeezing your hand.

You smiled back, warmth spreading through your chest. Knowing that Sevika would protect Lyla with everything she had. Even though she initially didn’t even care about the kid. It was a nice feeling to see and feel. The hard headed and stubborn tall woman becoming all soft and gentle for a kid who she barely knew.

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charliemwrites · 9 months ago

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Guilty By Association Commission from the very sweet and patient @soleilak

You (Callsign: Giggles, Gigs for short) are a medic on temporary assignment with the 141. The only problem? You're a former member of Graves' Shadow Company.

Content: Injury, angst, power imbalance, fingering and oral (reader receiving)

“Get your arse in gear, Gigs!”

Already exhausted and aching, the rough bark of your temporary captain urges your heavy feet faster. Gunfire sprays all around – you’re so addled you can’t tell if it’s enemy or friendly. All you know are your orders, a cry of survival in the uneven pounding of your heart. A bullet plows into the ground dangerously close to your foot.

Just a few meters ahead, Gaz curses and tumbles to the ground, hat lost. It’s not even a decision to alter your course. You can’t tell instantly what the damage is; if he’s been hit or just tripped. So you tuck and dive, grabbing an arm and leg as your back rolls across his chest. The momentum gets the two of you up and moving again, adrenaline taking the edge off his weight.

“Get us to the trees and I can run again!” he shouts in your ear.

You settle your blurry vision on the forest line ahead. Blessed cover – and your extraction point just a mile further. Goal set, you push through the pain of bruised ribs, a wrenched arm, and the ricochet of a bullet across your thigh. You wheeze your way well past the tree line, weaving between trunks until Kyle’s palm smacks at your side.

“We’re good, we’re good,” he says.

You grunt as you set him down, give him the quickest onceover in the history of medics. His calf is bleeding, just above the tops of his boots. It’s an ugly wound; it’ll need packing – but he can survive until exfil.

“Where the fuck are you two?!” Price growls through your headset.

Kyle pats your shoulder and takes off again, only the slightest limp indicating his injury. You grit your teeth and try to follow his example.

No one helps you into the chopper when you’re the last on the ladder. You’re not surprised, but it still stings. Salt on the day’s wounds.

Once the heli is up in the air, you scoot over to help Kyle with the wound on his calf. It’s almost hypnotic, the press-wind-press-wind of packing the deep gouge. Almost like unspooling your own tension through the care of a teammate. Every inch of bandage seems to amplify your own pains, though, as the mission high ebbs.

You hurt.

When Kyle’s done, you sit back a bit to assess him for any other wounds. The twitch of his mouth and slight bob of his head tells you he’s sorted, though – and it’s more thanks than you usually get.

“Where the hell were you?” Price demands.

“I got held up, sir,” you admit. Had been ambushed by two men you thought were on another floor. Bad luck, that. Or just poor preparation on your part. Your side twinges as you ease yourself into a seat. “Won’t happen again.”

Price grunts, mollified. “See that it doesn’t.”

You get maybe thirty seconds of peace before Soap’s voice cuts through the tentative peace.

“Gonnae take care o’ that or keep bleedin’ all over Nik’s seat?” he teases. Or at least it would be, if not for the sharp glint in his eyes.

What’s that saying about sins of the father? Well, Phillip Graves was definitely not your father, nor was General Shepherd – though he was old enough to be. In their absence, it seems you’re paying for their crimes regardless.

“Right,” you sigh, tearing off the bottom of your shirt, “sorry, Nik.”

“Just stay alive to clean it up, eh?” he replies jovially.

It’s not much of a joke, but you laugh anyway. You don’t live up to your callsign much nowadays, so you’ll take the levity when you can.

You tie off the makeshift bandage with a grunt and lean your head back, too uncomfortable to doze off.

At least the infirmary is a friendly sight. The staff are always grateful for an extra set of hands – even if they once belonged to a Shadow. And you have a lot of time to help since you’re not encouraged (never mind invited) to any non-professional activities with the 141. Working with the nurses during all that extra time has gained you some friends at least.

Dana is on call when you limp in. She fusses about you looking like the walking dead – then goes on to tell regale you with details from her current first-time watch of the show. The stream of words soothes you in the quiet little treatment room.

“Think we need an x-ray, dove?” she asks, prodding at your already discolored ribs.

“Wouldn’t help,” you sigh, “we can just wrap ‘em and call it.”

“Alright, dear, but you know what to do if it gets worse.”

“’Course,” you answer, summoning a grin, “can’t be keelin’ over before your nephew leaves that tart.”

“Oh, don’t even get me started – you know what she said at Sunday dinner?”

You giggle through her undoubtedly embellished story until she gets to your thigh – and the terrible bandaging.

“A piece of your shirt,” she scolds.

“My bag was too far, and my ribs hurt,” you complain.

“And what are all those big burly men for then, eh?” she huffs.

You shake your head. “I can’t ask them to help.”

Dana scowls past your hip. “Just because you’re the medic—”

“Pardon.”

You jolt in surprise at Captain Price in the doorway. Christ, he takes up the breadth of it too, shoulders brushing the jamb on either side. Even mission-dirty and stern-looking, he’s a hell of a welcome sight – though an unexpected one.

You try to sit up at some semblance of attention, but he waves you off. Can’t say you’re not grateful, unable to help wincing as you lie back.

You don’t notice him pause as Dana washes the wound, too busy sucking air through your nose.

“What’s… the damage?” he asks carefully.

You open your mouth to answer, but Dana beats you to it.

“Contused ribs, sprained shoulder, and a bullet wound to the thigh,” she rattles off. You’re always impressed by the undercurrent of disapproval and accusation she manages to weave into each word. “Not to mention dehydration and sleep deprivation. You’ve been staying up again, haven’t you?”

You clear your throat and turn your eyes skywards. “Oh, look at the ceiling. What a lovely ceiling.”

She clicks her tongue and begins packing the wound as you had for Gaz.

“Bullet wound?” Price asks sharply. Your eyes flick guiltily to him. “Why the hell am I hearing about this now?”

“It’s just a graze, sir,” you reply. “Sergeant Garrick’s was worse.”

His jaw does that thing you secretly (ashamedly) drool over, where it tightens and jumps. You know it’s not good but hey, silver linings right?

He doesn’t ream you out though. Just crosses his burly arms and lets out a long, heavy breath. You’re… not really sure what that means.

“Debrief at 0700 tomorrow, Gigs,” he says, voice unusually subdued.

“Yessir,” you reply dutifully.

As always, a strange mix of relief and disappointment twists in your chest as he walks away. Talking to him is a bit like being under a microscope – if that microscope was ready to brand you a low-down, no-good, dirty, rotten traitor at the first hint of suspicious activity.

You get it, you do. Graves and Shadow Company tried to kill Soap and Ghost, Los Vaqueros, and committed unspeakable atrocities. As much history as you had with him, he deserved what came to him, and Shepherd will deserve the same when he’s found.

Not that your hands were clean before Las Almas, but you drew the line when the orders came. Couldn’t bear to detain or shoot the friends you’d made in Los Vaqueros, or join the hunting party for Soap and Ghost. You’d been labelled a turncoat by your own teammates, thrown into a cell to be “court-martialed.”

Kate Laswell coming to your rescue was a second chance, a small-time miracle that you’ve been determined to earn ever since. In your more pathetic moments, usually in the small, dark, lonely hours of sleepless nights, you wonder how much it will take. How long you’ll be guilty by association.

At least this isn’t shaping up to be one of those nights. You’re half asleep by the time Dana sends you off, arm chilly from the IV fluids she bullied you into. For once, you might get a few decent hours.

Your second surprise of the night comes just outside your barracks door. Soap is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, head back and eyes closed. Awake, though. His index finger is tapping a steady but rapid pace on his bicep.

“Soap?” you say, alerting him. “Did you… need me for something? You’re not injured, are you?”

He straightens up, drops his arms to his side. You pause a noticeable distance away, uncertainty leashing you to the safety of space. Not that you feel threatened. His posture is the loosest it’s been around you since… well, since before Las Almas went to hell.

“’Course no’, I woulda – tha’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh…” You process the strange wording. “Why are you here, then?”

He shifts his weight, a little line appearing between his brows as he seems to gather himself.

“I’m here to apologize.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Look, what I said during exfil – it was bang outta order. You’ve been nothin’ but good to us ‘n I’m still holdin’ on to old shite.”

You shift, adjust the stupid flimsy sling for your sore shoulder. “It’s… not that old,” you reason, “and I don’t blame you, either. Not after everything.”

“Still, ya did the right thing back then – and ya’ve proven yourself half a dozen times over, besides. I’ve got no reason to treat you like an enemy.”

You swallow past the lump in your throat. It feels like you’ve swallowed a grenade; any moment the pin is going to come out and an explosion of gory emotion will splatter the walls.

“Thanks, Soap.”

He grunts something about “not thanking him” and ducks his head, shuffling past you.

“Seriously,” you say, voice strained from keeping it even. “I really appreciate it.”

He pauses, gives you a genuinely kind look. “Rest up, lass.”

It’s the best you’ve slept in a long while – after you cry into your pillow, that is.

At 0700 the next day, you’re in Price’s office, sore but in high spirits. Gaz sat next to you and Soap said good morning at breakfast. Even Ghost seemed less frosty than usual, grunting at you in acknowledgement when you’d sat down.

Of course, the good luck couldn’t last.

The debrief itself is fine. You speak when it’s your turn, listen when it isn’t. About as normal as it gets for a special ops squad.

It’s as the rest of the task force is filing out the door that the other shoe drops.

“Gigs, a word,” Price calls.

You freeze mid-step, shoot Gaz a panicky glance. He glances over your shoulder, snorts, and pats your arm in solidarity. Not as helpful as he thinks.

With a deep breath, you pivot back around. The door closes behind you with a damning click. You can’t even hide your hands behind your back to fidget at parade rest – your arm needs to stay in the sling for the rest of the day.

“We need to discuss yesterday,” Price says, palms flat on his desk.

You tilt your head. Wasn’t that what the debrief was for?

“Sir?” you ask. “If I – did I do something wrong?”

He deflates a bit, big shoulders dropping before he pushes himself up and rounds the desk.

“No, you’re not in trouble,” he explains, “but I have concerns.”

When he gestures for you to take one of the visitor seats, you do. You’re a bit surprised when he takes the other – though you can’t help an appreciative glance while his attention is elsewhere. He practically dwarfs the stupid little chair, and the way he spreads his thighs trying to get comfortable…

“Concerns, sir?” you parrot, trying to corral your scrambled braincells.

“What you said in the infirmary,” he begins, expression solemn, “is that really how you feel?”

“What I said…?” You try to recall anything of note from last night, but most of what came out of your mouth is a blur at best. “What did I say?”

He leans forward, lacing his scarred fingers together. You try not to stare, though the way he rubs at the knuckle of one thumb with the other is distracting. It’s an unusual gesture for the disciplined, determined man you’ve been honored to call captain for months now.

“That you can’t ask us to help you.”

A block of ice drops into your stomach.

“That’s not – I know you guys would help me if I needed it,” you hurry to say.

He gives you a long look. “Then why don’t you ever ask? You were shot and didn’t say a bloody thing.”

You shift, unable to meet his eyes. Can’t find the words to answer. It’s not that you didn’t think you could ask. It just didn’t feel right with the bad blood between you, Soap, and Ghost. Besides, you’re the medic, you’re supposed to be the one fixing everyone else – not the other way around. What use are you otherwise?

You try to explain this to Price, but you sense (from the grim set to his handsome features) that it’s not helping.

“I’ve been a shite captain to you, haven’t I?” he sighs.

You jump. “No, sir! You’re a great captain. I trust you with my life.”

He chuckles, but it’s devoid of humor. Sounds almost self-deprecating.

“I’ve not done a bloody thing to earn it.”

You shake your head. “Sir, you’ve kept me alive for months now. That’s plenty.”

Beyond that, he’s always been fair with you. Doesn’t give you shit assignments or the most dangerous roles in missions. Always makes sure you’re alive and accounted for. Calls you out for mistakes and faults, sure, but it’s for the sake of you and everyone else. He’s been just as ready to pat your shoulder for a clever maneuver or praise a good shot.

“You know damn well it’s not,” he scolds.

You huff, almost amused. “Sir, with all due respect, get off the cross we need the wood.”

His eyebrows jump up nearly to his hairline. Normally, you wouldn’t dream of being so cavalier with Price of all people. Soap’s truce last night gives you the confidence to continue.

“I know you didn’t trust me as a former Shadow at first,” you say, “but you looked out for me anyway. After the first few missions… it seemed like things evened out.”

He sighs and sits back, running a hand down his face.

“Laswell vouched for you – it’s the only reason I didn’t send you right back on that plane,” he admits. A small but genuine smile curls his mouth. “And then you put your life on the line for my boys time and time again.”

You mirror him, the tension in your shoulders easing away with each word.

“I knew things weren’t great with the others, but I thought it was best if I kept out of it. Let you lot sort it out so long as you all cooperated when it mattered,” he continues. “I didn’t realize how bad it got, and that’s on me. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head and lightly tap your boot against his. “It wasn’t the wrong call, sir. I think things are going to get better from here on out.”

He hums, eyes searching your gentle smile for any hint of insincerity. But you believe it, and it must show, because his eyes crinkle as he smiles back.

“Speaking of better,” he says, clearing his throat. “Mind if I take a look at those ribs? Dana had some choice words for me this morning.”

You giggle and tug your shirt from your waistband, hiking the hem up high to show the reddish-purple mottling all over your left side. Price makes a noise of sympathy, easing out of his chair to the carpeted floor. On his knees, he inches closer, leaning in to inspect the damage.

“How’d this happen?” he asks, voice lowering.

His fingertips skim over the edges of the bruises, featherlight. Your voice gets strangled in your throat as tingles race across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Um, hostile kicked me. A lot.”

His eyes flick up to yours, hard as ice. “Dead?”

“Yessir.”

His gaze softens, a proud, smug quirk to his lips. “Atta girl.”

You can’t fully suppress a shiver. It’s not just the gentle, considerate touches. It’s the purring praise from a man you’ve admired and harbored a sizeable crush on.

“Cold?” he asks.

This is your chance to wave it off. To pretend you are not so inappropriately infatuated with a man you thought only tolerated you until a minute ago. A little white lie, you could smooth your shirt back down, and be on your way.

But you don’t want to do that. Not really.

And from the way his pupils are slowly, steadily subsuming his irises, neither does he.

“No, sir,” you whisper.

His slow exhale caresses across your tender ribs.

“Then would you be comfortable if I checked on your ‘little graze’ as well?” It’s a tease, but also a genuine check of your boundaries. Another out, freely and openly given, that only solidifies your resolve to see where he’s going with this.

“Yessir,” you answer, shifting to get at your belt.

Price tsks, though, big hands spreading across each thigh and urging you down again.

“Now, now, don’t aggravate that shoulder,” he murmurs. “Let me help like a good captain.”

You swallow back an embarrassing noise as deft hands unbuckle your belt, thumb the button of your pants open, and drag the zipper down tooth by tooth. His thick, warm forearms rest on your thighs the entire time, keep them spread to accommodate his wide shoulders. He’s in no rush to continue his “checkup,” toying along the length of your waistband before easing it down.

“Lift up for me, darling, there we are,” he murmurs. You gasp softly as his palms brush your ass while sliding your pants down. Then outright squeak as he squeezes a cheek in each hand, a low noise of admiration rumbling in his throat.

“Gorgeous girl,” he chuckles. “Gorgeous arse.”

Your face feels hot as he tugs your pants down to your ankles, though the square of gauze and tape on the back of your thigh is long revealed. It takes conscious effort not to squirm under his hot gaze, praying a wet spot isn’t already visible on your panties.

“Let’s just get this one free…” He works the pantleg over your boot, leaving the other pooled around the laces. “Now then.”

You bite into your lip as he hauls your calf up into his shoulder, propping your leg up to get a clear view of your thigh.

“Not bled through,” he notes, tracing the neat edges of the medical tape. “You’ve been taking good care of it. Well done.”

You can’t help the little twitch that evokes, your whole body reacting to the deep timbre of his voice. He’s not oblivious to his effect on you, a glint in his eye as his bristly jaw brushes the inside of your knee.

“T-told you, it wasn’t too bad,” you manage weakly.

He hums and your pussy clenches helplessly around nothing. His eyes flick down and you know it’s all over.

“And what about this, hm?” he asks. You whimper as his thumb skims the lace edge of your panties. “Have you been taking care of this?”

Flustered and yet so, so turned on, you can only shake your head. He coos in mock disappointment, rubbing slow circles across your labia, closer and closer to where you’re aching and needy.

“It’s alright sergeant,” he soothes, “your captain will take care of you.”

Except he only rubs you through your panties A maddening pressure back and forth along the wet seam of your cunt, never delving deeper. You break down in hardly any time at all.

“Sir, please,” you whine, wriggling. He’s quick to brace you still again, leisurely movements never faltering.

“Please what, darling?” he teases.

“I-I need…” You whimper with embarrassment, squeezing your eyes shut. “I need you to take care of me, please, captain.”

He practically growls as he tears through the hip of your panties, tossing them aside in a sodden heap on the ground. With two fingers, he parts your labia, eyes hungrily drinking in the cream shimmering between them.

“All this and I’ve barely touched you,” he rasps, awed.

You nearly sob with desperation for something, anything. He shushes your fussy little noises with his thumb, dipping into the pool of slick at your entrance. Gets the pad soaked before drawing a line up to your swollen, sensitive clit. Your mouth falls open as he starts drawing tight, firm circles over that bundle of nerves.

He treats your body and your pleasure with all the confidence and competence you’ve come to expect of John Price. It takes shockingly little time for him to learn just how to press, how fast to rub, the patterns and circuits that get your legs shaking. And that’s before he twists his wrist and sinks a finger inside you.

“Practically sucking me in, love,” he murmurs, petting at your walls. You shudder and wordlessly beg for more, rocking your hips. “Need another already, greedy girl?”

He doesn’t even wait for your nod before stuffing you with another, curling and scissoring, exploring. You keen as he finds a sweet, sensitive spot inside you and begins toying with it, his thumb still swiping relentlessly at your clit.

He settles into a rhythm that has you moaning and keening, the heel of your boot digging into his shoulder blade. All the while he showers you in praise and encouragement, the dirtiest compliments that make you clench down tightly on his hand. Your body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending lit up with pleasure.

It’s builds and builds and builds, never quite cresting. You’re near tears when you moan his name, trying to find some leverage or angle to finally tip you over the edge.

“Do you need to cum, doll?”

“Yes, yes,” you cry, “please, sir, I wanna cum for you. Please, I’m s-so close.”

He hums, bracing your thigh with his free hand as he leans in. Your foggy brain doesn’t have enough time to process before he latches onto your clit and a third finger bullies into you. You wail. Your thigh twinges from the dull pressure of his shoulder, but the slight pain only adds a delicious edge to the pleasure.

His tongue swipes across your puffy clit once, twice, three times and you’re gone. You gush all over his hand, his beard, onto the chair. Your hips jerk as he works you over, fingers abusing your g-spot relentlessly despite how tightly you clamp down. Your body feels nuclear, nerves popping like firecrackers.

He only relents when the waves of ecstasy threaten to drown you in overstimulation. He eases his fingers from your twitchy hole, making room for him to lick you clean. It’s loud and obscene, yet there’s no room left for embarrassment anymore. You shiver and pant in the aftermath, your body unravelling into a puddle.

“Wh-what about you?” you ask as he begins straightening out your clothes. There’s an absolutely delectable-looking bulge in his fatigues that you’re dying to get your tongue on.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “If you want more –” (“I do.”) “- then you’ll have to wait until you’re healed up. Non-negotiable.”

You try to pout, but the effort is thwarted when he chucks you gently under the chin.

“C’mon, let’s have a lie down.”

He steadies you as you wobble to the couch off to the side, lying down first and letting you cuddle up between his legs. It’s a comfort more than you would have expected from a clandestine little triste, but you should know better than to doubt your captain. Head resting on his chest, you let yourself drift for a while, lulled by his fingers carding through your hair.

“Price…?” you ask after a while.

“Hm?”

“You didn’t do this just to… I dunno, make up for something, right?”

He huffs. “No, sweetheart. I’ve been arse over teakettle for a while. Staring like a complete muppet when you train.”

You hide a grin against his collarbone. “Good. I thought I’d have to start making things up for you to owe me.”

His chuckle rocks through you, and for the first time in a while, it feels a bit like home.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #commissioned work #john price x reader #captain john price #tf 141 #medic reader #former shadow reader

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thecicadagraveyard · 20 days ago

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Something about Wilson fighting so hard for everyone else but when it comes to his own life he gives up after one singular attempt to survive a little longer. Something about Wilson knowing what his patients endure and begging House not to put him through death in a hospital. Something about Wilson running away with House knowing that he won't have much time left. Something about Wilson considering suffering through chemo for House because they had a nice dinner together. Something about Wilson begging House to tell him that he loves him. Something about Wilson forcing House to accept his choice for the first time in their relationship since the very beginning. Something about Wilson ranting at House's funeral that the only time he needed House, he wasn't there. Something about Wilson absolutely beaming at the sight of his best friend alive, sitting on the steps right in front of him, and being hit with the utterly soul crushing realization that House threw everything away for him and only him. Something about Wilson beginning to ask House "When the cancer gets bad..." and smiling at House's response of "Cancer's boring." Something about Wilson and House living a soft life of domesticity in their last few months together. Something about Wilson knowing that they could have had this for years prior. Something about Wilson knowing they never would have if he weren't dying.

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ratsoupee · 4 months ago

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your seventale au designs feel so accurate is because they all have stripes send ask

Undertale has alot of design motifs that as a character design standpoint, I fucking love, and I want to keep those motifs in my design. Of course the running design theme that 'Children wear stripes on their clothes' is something I wanted to keep, and it was fun figuring out how to incorporate that motif in the children.

Other design notes I realized later on after I did them:

All seven children don't have their hair going longer than their shoulders, they all have some variation of short hair

Tao and Dot's stripe motifs are not as obvious as the rest of them are. They are placed on the bottom half of their bodies instead of their shirts, and are made of few lines with a lighter color (Instead of complimentary colors, or clashing colors). They are also the two who are the oldest/most mature of the group, but they are still kids.

My favourite design is actually Rain. The environment dialogue surrounding Patience is really intriguing, and they always struck me as a child that was only patient out of survival, seen by the dialogue when you interact with the Ribbon, an item that belonged to the Patience Soul. Rain would make themselves small and unseeing, only so they wouldn't be caught in the crossfire.

I always like seeing how other people interpret characters that don't have official canon human designs (See Animation vs Minecraft). It tells a lot about how someone perceives a character, what aspect of a character design is integral to their personality, e.t.c. It's very fun.

#art #digital art #fanart #op talks #seventale #grouptale #undertale #UTDR #undertale fanart #seven souls #Patience soul #kindness soul #bravery soul #undertale au

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lullabyes22-blog · 3 months ago

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Real talk because you are THE resident Silco expert and all your headcanons are 100% correct: why does fandom think Silco would be good in bed? (Or good at sex at all?)

I've seen headcanons about him being a giver, and about his dick game being fire, and while he's a sexy, charismatic man, I feel like he's too... selfish, insecure, and just not a romantic guy. He's also a very bitter, lonely, and angry dude. Idk, it makes sense he would have some kinks but I feel like he'd be too much of a bitch to care for anyone else in bed. I guess he'd want it rough, and I've read some fics where he's a sadist, but I feel like it'd just be a quick fuck to satisfy himself, not a slow, passionate, sensual thing.

idk, do with this what you will.

I agree - with nuance 💗

Silco - at least as I write him in FNF - is principally a headfuck. If he's demonstrating an interest in you, then he wants something from you. If he's nice to you, there's a bottom line. No act of generosity comes without strings attached, and every small kindness comes at a terrible price. That aspect of cold-blooded calculus is never far away from his base nature, which splits the world into assets and liabilities, and his own actions into a transaction of cost versus reward.

With that in mind, he excels, not at sex, but at getting his partners to do what he wants them to do. For him, it's one of the many fluid ways of expressing power, and demonstrating his mastery over the subtleties of the human body and mind.

A few readers have noticed that he comes across as very detached and controlled during FnF's sex scenes - and that they read as weirdly voyeuristic. That always delights me, because it's an intentional choice. He doesn't really see his partner as anything beyond a medium to his goals, so his focus is entirely on their physical responses and his own actions. His narration is distant, observational and impersonal, because he doesn't experience sex as something that involves an emotional or empathetic connection. Rather, he's gauging how his target's responses play out on a physical plane, and he's calibrating his own actions to maximise their impact.

To give credit where credit is due, he's very intelligent, patient and observant. There is also some realistic backing to the running gag that Good D is invariably attached to Bad Men. More specifically, Bad Broke Men. Silco has not grown up in a position of privilege or wealth. He has been forced to make use of every available resource. He has survived by the skin of his teeth on a constant knife edge of deprivation, hunger and fear.

He's a scrapper. He's a survivor. He's an opportunist.

And to be any of those things, you need to know your way around people: their wants and weaknesses. That's the foundation for the idea that he's good in bed - that he can anticipate his partner's desires, and respond accordingly. The difference is, his actions have no romantic underpinning. It's a matter of pure pragmatism and self-interest.

In terms of technical skill, he's likely very good at finding his partner's pressure points, both literal and figurative, and exploiting them. But if it were up to him, he'd find a way to turn the thumbscrews with nothing more than a well-chosen word and a cold look. The sex is just a generality, and his enjoyment a function of their compliance.

When it comes to actual intimacy?

My friends, he'd be spectacularly bad.

Not just bad, but skittish, hostile and hopelessly inept. He'd feel like an accomplished stage actor who has to step out onto the boards for an improv class. He hasn't got the right lines, he isn't dressed for the part, and he isn't even sure what role he's supposed to be playing. He'd be so awkward, he'd actually have trouble looking his partner in the eyes. The sum total of his sexual ouvre would devolve into the following comedy of errors:

"What the fuck is this?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Don't touch me there."

"This is going well, right?"

"Why can't I get it up?"

"I can't do this."

"Leave me alone."

"Where are you going?"

"Don't leave me."

"They always leave me."

"Why does everyone leave me?"

And he'd only spiral deeper into self-loathing and isolation. To submit to intimacy is to open oneself up to the mortifying ordeal of being known, and the constant risk of rejection. To Silco, it is anathema. Actual emotional vulnerability during sex would be not unlike attending his own public execution.

But.

Silco is not a one-note villain, much less a one-trick pony. He has a human history riven in deprivation, bloodshed and betrayal. He's remade himself from a 'weak' man into the premier kingpin of Zaun, but that predatory bracing still hides remnants of the soft-natured idealist he once was. In fact, he's the product of a deeply embedded internal conflict between two distinct versions of himself. The one who seeks to burn his enemies, and the one who seeks to save his city. He's also, as demonstrated by his love for Jinx, capable of profound devotion, loyalty, and a deep-seated longing for companionship.

That means the potential for romance exists. It's just buried deep, deep, deep down beneath years of abuse, neglect, trauma, and self-imposed barriers. If he meets someone who can dismantle those barriers, or bypass them altogether and earn his trust, there is a ray of hope.

Sex would still be frightening and uncomfortable, and it'd involve a lot of trial and error. But it'd also have the potential to be deeply healing. Not because Silco would become a better man, but because his partner would make him want to try. He'd also bring the same intense focus, intelligence, and determination to the task that he applies to his criminal empire - which means that, once he does have his sea legs, Silco would have the potential to become a truly giving lover.

It's all about context.

And the context is always: will he take the gamble when he has nothing to lose, and everything to gain?

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #forward but never forget/xoxo #asks #forward (never forget)/xoxo #arcane jinx #jinx #arcane headcanon #arcane headcanons #arcane meta #silco headcanons #silco headcanon #silco x reader

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hellyeahscarleteen · 7 months ago

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New donors needed to help keep Scarleteen’s queer, trans and gender nonconforming sex educators going!

We, the queer and trans, staff & volunteers at Scarleteen spend the vast majority of our time giving support. We very actively maintain a friendly and accessible website full of resources, advice and information, and provide a caring, safe and patient environment in all of our direct services. We continue to make a massive contribution towards sexuality education as a whole, as we have for the whole of our 25 year tenure. Everywhere we go we receive thanks from educators and service workers for the motivation we, and our founder Heather Corinna, have given them to do incredible work in their communities. However, for our daily survival and our dreams of the future, we need support too!

Unless our current trajectory changes we will not have the funding this year to give our volunteers end-of-year stipends to reward their generous efforts, nor bring our codirectors’ wages any closer to industry standard or even industry average rates of pay for their positions and tenure - averages which we continue to undershoot by quite some margin, nor will we be able to reimburse those staff for the many hours they have worked in excess of their basic 30 hours a week. We will also be unable to increase their healthcare benefits which for one disabled member of our team, will have been exceeded 4 times over by actual healthcare costs by the end of the year, which they have had to pay for out-of-pocket.

As part of our annual Pride celebration we are asking you to consider becoming one of the 50 (and fabulous) new recurring donors we are determined to find this week! Please consider supporting a few good queer & trans people to help us continue to deliver queer sex and relationships education, info and support, which remains free and open to all.

Recurring monthly donations of $10 or more are part of the treasured community of donors who give us peace of mind like nothing else can. We will need a further 250 recurring donors at that level or the financial equivalent to keep us on-track for our most modest projections through the coming years, so whatever help you can give us today to exceed our initial target of 50 will be cherished by us more than you can know.

Here’s some ways to help:

If you can become a new monthly donor, please do! We would love to welcome you to our valued bunch of fabulous supporters!

If you are already a donor, please consider tacking on an extra $10 per month, even temporarily, if you can!

If you cannot currently afford to donate an increased amount, or cannot donate at all, please consider reaching out to someone who you think can, so that eventually we can find that new donor. (And if you manage to sign someone up, do let us know so we can thank you!)

If you only want to or can give us a one-time donation we will still be incredibly grateful for that help at any level. We know a thing or 12 about deep financial limitations and having to choose very carefully where you give.

Please go to scarleteen.com/donate to begin your monthly donation, or if you have further questions head to scarleteen.com/contact drop us a message.

Thank you once more for your support and for being your queer/trans/allied/otherwise-awesome self,

Yours sincerely,

The Scarleteam …

of Scarleteen: queer sex ed for all since 1998❤️

#pride #fundraising #sex ed #support #queer sex education #zine #lgbtq community #queer sex ed forever #queer sex ed for all

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pineconnie · 6 months ago

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and good news to the purists ??? they discovered a cure ????? for the SYMPTOMS?? OF? BEING? ALIVE??!?!?!? it’s a painless procedure ??? with a low rate of failure??? but VERY FEW PATIENTS SURVIVE???!!??1!1!??

#WILL WOOD THE LYRICIST YOU ARE OH MY GODDDDDD #will wood #marsha thankk you for the dialectics #the normal album

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kiame-sama · 4 months ago

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Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 6

(Quickly running out of Monster men drawings to use as my chapter pictures. May be a hot minute until I get the next chapter out since my laptop can barely stay conscious long enough to draw another one and I want to only use the monster AU versions of the characters for this series.)

Warnings; multiple yanderes, platonic yanderes, romantic yanderes, monster AU, eating Humans mentioned, more AU history, Cater is not having a very Cay-Cay day, food is an excellent way to bring groups together, Fauns, Satyrs, Kelpies, Crow Fae, Unicorns, Water Nymphs, vampire bats, dragons, cervitaurs, Raiju, Mermen, Cecaelia, Gnolls,

~~~~~~~~

Lunch finally rolled around and you were surprised that Ace and Deuce had actually taken Trey's words seriously and accompanied you to classes. Ace had loudly complained about his volunteering for a little bit but once he saw how many students actually took an interest in you, he stopped complaining and started viewing the task as a kind of important role only he could do. Naturally, Deuce was far less irate about the situation though there were times he almost came across as a punk when it came to others trying to harass you. Both had adjusted well to being around you and come lunch Deuce was actually taking pride in explaining things to you.

"-and that's what makes Fauns different from Satyrs."

"So Fauns are the nicer version of Satyrs?"

"For the most part. Satyrs are known for being loud and always wanting to fight-"

Ace cut Deuce off, shoving an uncooked carrot into the Faun's mouth to silence him. You had seen the two interact and you got the distinct feeling that the Faun and Satyr had more of a brotherly relationship with one another. Where they both had different personalities, when they did agree on something it was practically a law to them.

It was fascinating to hear that these monster men had similar names to the mythical creatures from your world and you wondered why such an overlap existed. Maybe the Humans from your world did interact with this world in the past, or maybe it was just a coincidence. Still, it seemed almost too close to be mere coincidence.

"Anyway, now that Dunce here is done talking-"

"You know my name is Deuce-"

"Like I said, now that Dunce is done talking, I have questions for you, (Y/n)."

You almost laughed at the back and forth banter of the two Goats- Faun and Satyr respectively- as their voices fumbled over one another. Truth was, you had been expecting far more questions than the few they threw at you between classes, so now was as good a time as any to ask.

"Okay, what do you want to know?"

"So, you don't have magic? Like, at all?"

"No magic whatsoever. Where I came from, magic is a myth and no creatures have magic."

"Okay. But how do Humans survive? No horns, no claws, nothing to protect themselves from bigger creatures."

"We make weapons. I know you all have bows, arrows, and knives, we have the same. Guns too, but I haven't seen any guns used here."

"Wait, what is a gun?"

"Basically an automatic bow that fires little pieces of metal using explosive powder that needs a spark which launches the metal through their target."

Ace seemed almost excited by your vague explanation of a gun, opening his mouth to ask you another question. His voice died in his throat as his gaze locked onto something behind you, prompting you to turn around to look at whatever it was that had unsettled Ace.

Standing not too far from you was the large figure of the Horse-man Trey. Ace told you he was a Kelpie, but you just couldn't make that connection seeing as he looked like a big white horse and not a water kelp-horse like Kelpies were supposed to be. He was clearly making good on his threat to check in as he approached you with a patient smile on his face.

"Hello (Y/n), have Heartslabyul's first-years been adequate guides for you today?"

"Yes. Grim doesn't even have to try half as hard to keep me safe now and I haven't been late to any of my classes other than the first one."

Trey gave a genuine smile at this, nodding his head as he was pleased to know his choice had been a good one. Seeing the centaur made you wonder about Cater and what may have become of the air-head student. In some ways, you worried asking would have a negative effect, but you were so curious you couldn't help but inquire about him.

"So... What happened to Cater?"

"He is being dealt with by the Headmage. He's lucky he isn't going to get expelled for what he did, but once the Headmage is done with his punishment, he's going to be turned over to Riddle."

"Is Riddle mad about all of this?"

"Well... I actually haven't told Riddle yet. He has a short fuse and isn't going to take Cater's actions well, especially since he asked both Cater and I to protect you if we happened across you. Odds are Cater is going to be collared and kicked out of his room for the foreseeable future."

This made you frown in contemplation at the prospect of the Red-haired student being punished too harshly. Though you were upset Cater took photos of you without asking and likely set several poachers on your trail, you didn't want harm to come to him. Sure, he was stupid and made a stupid choice, but he shouldn't be hurt or kicked out of his home for it.

"... If he is kicked out of his room, is there anywhere else he can go?"

"No. Riddle is very strict about rule-breakers being banned from the dorms so long as they have one of his collars on, and most other dorms aren't keen to house a student that isn't theirs. He's probably going to be sleeping in the Heartslabyul lake if Riddle doesn't ban him from there too."

The morality of the issue weighed on you and made you worry about the ditzy redhead. Though you didn't really trust Cater or his clearly impaired decision making skills, you still felt like he deserved basic decency despite his actions. You knew firsthand how the creatures that lived around campus were genuinely terrifying and dangerous, so you didn't want him thrown to the metaphorical or actual wolves.

"Can... can Cater stay in my dorm?"

Your question earned you several dubious looks from the Goats and Trey as if you had grown another head or said something unhinged. Even Grim had to pause his hesitant raw veggie medley- the only thing the cafeteria served today- to stare at you in surprise.

"You- you want Cater in your dorm? Why?"

"Well, it wasn't like he knew what he was doing was bad, and I don't think he should be left outside for his poor choice."

"(Y/n), do you realize how vicious poachers are in Twisted Wonderland? You will be hunted every moment of every day because Cater couldn't keep himself from posting you to that stupid Magicam app he is obsessed with. The second you are unguarded you will be attacked. The Headmage is even considering assigning Sam and Vargas to your dorm just to make sure poachers can't get in, or even moving you to Diasomnia so Malleus can protect you. I don't think you understand just how seriously we need to take your safety."

"I'm just a Human though, I'm not a princess or someone important. Why all the fuss?"

Your comment made Trey let out a long and exasperated sigh, his gaze leaving your confused form as he tried to keep in mind just how new you were to their world. Humans were never just Humans in Twisted Wonderland, and them simply dying out has made a far felt ripple in the history of every known species. For so long, so many species had adored and tried to protect Humans, but even they couldn't save the fragile species from the hunger so many magic users had for their very flesh.

Most things in the technological realm and cooking realm- pastries and phones included- only existed because Humans led the way to them being invented. Even now, technology has been mostly stagnant for over a hundred years with only the Shrouds having any aptitude as far as advancements were concerned. Trey himself had Humanity to thank for his family's bakery and the many cuisines local to the Queendom of Roses.

"(Y/n), Humans have never been 'just Humans' to us. Maybe to Sunset Savana, but never to the Queendom of Roses. Even Briar Valley had laws in place to protect your kind from everyone else. I get you may not understand it, but compared to most other species, Humans were better than most in the emotional and critical thinking department. It was Humans creating new inventions, coming up with unique ideas, and above all else, peacekeeping between the various species and races to the point they were called Beast-Tamers. Most wouldn't even speak to their Fae counterparts until Humans got the two to interact amicably."

You were somewhat surprised to hear all of this, having been under the impression that Humans were mainly pets to the other species. It was interesting to hear what Humans were credited for and that despite all they did to help, they were still hunted as food until extinction. The few from Savanaclaw you interacted with had been both sides of the spectrum of threatening you or being peaceful to you and it made you wonder just what kind of species were still keen to get a taste of your forbidden flesh.

"Honestly," Trey continued, "I wouldn't be surprised if several Kingdoms and Queendoms sent ambassadors to take you away from Night Raven for your own safety. I just know the international law makers are going to have a field day the moment it becomes common knowledge that you're here."

It made sense that Trey was stressed about this, you knew from your own home how aggressively endangered and near-extinct species had to be protected, but you still felt Cater shouldn't carry all the blame. If it wasn't Cater, it would have been someone else. Just because he was the fool to do it first didn't mean that others wouldn't have tried or succeeded in the same endeavor.

"Still, if he gets kicked out of the dorms tonight, will you at least tell him I will let him stay with me?"

"If you really want me to," he sighed heavily, "I guess I can tell Cater about your offer. I won't tell Riddle though, knowing how that Unicorn is, he will actually harm Cater for even thinking about taking shelter with you after what he's done."

~•§•~

"HE DID WHAT?!"

Riddle was beside himself with rage and even stomped his hooves against the marble floors of the Headmage's office, almost cracking the stone with his rage. Cater was trying to sink into his chair and hide from the Sophomore Housewarden who was beyond the point of furious with the water Nymph. Not only did he get a dressing-down from the Headmage, but he was going to be thrown at the mercy of his own Housewarden who was known for being an absolute hard-ass on rule breakers.

"It wasn't like I was trying to target her! I just-"

"SILENCE! YOU WILL SPEAK WHEN SPOKEN TO, CATER DIAMOND!"

The firm tone Riddle used made Cater shut his mouth and bow his head, trying to avoid upsetting the Unicorn further. There was no way he would be able to go back to his room at this rate and odds are he would be sleeping in the forest if Riddle had anything to say about it. Plus, he still had that essay to write for Trein that was due tomorrow.

"He apparently took a selfie with (Y/n) and posted it to Magicam with hashtags indicating she is Human. By the time I got him to delete the post, it had been downloaded several thousand times. Since then I have already received a call from the Royal Sword Academy Headmage to confirm a Human lives here now, and what we as the heads of our schools can do to protect her. No doubt representatives from Briar Valley and the Queendom of Roses have already been dispatched and will arrive on the island soon enough, not to mention how many poachers are likely on their way here as we speak."

Cater knew how upset Riddle was given the fact the Unicorn's horn was humming loudly with magic and the Unicorn himself was a bright red. Things really weren't coming up Cay-Cay today.

"OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!"

~•§•~

You felt a bit more comfortable with the school as a whole by the time classes had finished for the day. Practical Magical Theory was an interesting class, even if you really didn't have the faintest idea what they were talking about. According to Ace, you were lucky you didn't have Flight Class because there was a high chance you wouldn't be able to participate in the class itself. Still, you were happy to have a moment to let things settle down for a bit.

Ace and Deuce walked you to your dorm, but had been called to Heartslabyul by a quick text from Trey, leaving you alone in the dorm with Grim. Despite the beginning of the day being an absolute wash, the rest of the day hadn't been too bad. It was around this time you decided you may as well start on making some dinner. You could hear Grim's stomach growling already as you both went to the kitchen.

"Are you gonna make something good like you did for breakfast?"

"I'm going to try to."

"What are you gonna make?"

"Well, I was thinking we have the stuff here for a really nice soup-"

You were promptly cut off by the Kitchen door swinging open with a loud bang. Clearly, you were going to have to tell the professors or even the Headmage Crow about securing that side door given how it had already been used twice by others seeking to get into your dorm. Luckily for you, those that walked through the door had at least two familiar faces in the group.

"Sorry for interrupting," Lilia called out, happily making his way over to you in an almost bouncy gait, much like a bird hopping around, "hope you don't mind I brought Malleus, Silver, and Sebek too. I heard one of the Heartslabyul students blew the whistle on you being here in NRC. Figured you could use a bit of extra protection in case any poachers try their luck. Besides, the nest here is just as big as Malleus' nest in Diasomnia."

It was then Malleus spoke, his voice a deep rumble in his chest as he looked over you.

"They will not lay a hand upon my hoard without paying with their lives for such a transgression."

It was clear the Dragon was not happy with the events that took place and he seemed to be quite content claiming you as one of his Hoard. When Lilia explained it to you last night, apparently the moment Malleus decided he was adding someone to his Hoard, he became extremely attached to that person and would even become violent in their defense. Given the way others talked about him, he must have been a genuinely frightening and powerful person to command such fear and respect.

"... So does that mean I'm making soup for all of you or..?"

"If you don't mind. I certainly want another bite of your cooking, (Y/n)!"

Lilia took his perch back on the counter and swung his feet, seeming rather impish and almost childish in his behavior. You just shrugged and nodded, gathering enough ingredients to feed the group several times over. Your hope was that there would be some left over for you to take during lunches. As nice as it was to have raw foods once in a while, you'd rather your meals be cooked.

Grim clearly only trusted Lilia and sat next to the Bat to watch you bustle around the kitchen. He even let out a soft purr when Lilia began to pet his forehead and ears. Where you would have scolded them for sitting on the counter, it wasn't like you didn't have enough counter space already. Starting the broth and preparation was rather simple for you and it was clear those standing around you were keen to watch you prepare the soup.

"(Y/n)," Grim meowed, "where did you learn to do all this fancy stuff?"

"Humans usually cook their food. So I just learned while growing up. Of course there are some things you can have without cooking, like a sandwich or a fruit salad, but most big meals are better cooked. Now, that doesn't mean every Human can cook well, but most are good enough at it."

"So does that mean I can have more of the food you cook?"

"Like a bigger portion? No. But you will always get to have some of whatever I make, okay?"

Grim purred loudly at this, his face lighting up with an excited smile. Clearly the little creature was pleased with your arrangement even if it meant he had to go to boring classes with you. The food was absolutely worth it and he got to sleep in a mountain of pillows and blankets after a long day. It was all way better than the hole in the ground he occupied when he wasn't actively running for his life before he met you.

Once you got most of the soup started, you knew it just needed to be covered and cooked, listening idly to Lilia talk with the others about the events of breakfast and the Gnoll that invited himself in. It was when you finally got this moment that you took a good look at the other two visitors who were either Silver or Sebek, seeing as Lilia didn't point out who was who.

Much to your surprise, one of them reminded you of the Kelpie and Unicorn you had met earlier but he had an obvious three point antler rack attached to his head. His lower half was that of a reindeer and was fairly fluffy compared to the short coats of the Kelpie and Unicorn. Part of you wanted to test if he was as soft as he looked, but you figured it would not be considered appropriate to pet him.

The second new face was an almost canine like man with pale green hair that was slicked back and spiked up at the ends. His eyes were intense as was the apparent scowl that held his features, two sharply pointed dog ears atop his head. Bright yellow-green eyes tracked your every move and regarded you with as much curiosity as you regarded him. The similar medium length tail fur swayed lazily as his tail slowly began to wag when you looked at him.

The soup was beginning to smell rather good and it was clear four of the five others in the kitchen were taking note as they occasionally sniffed the air. Lilia, Grim, Silver, and Sebek were clearly keenly interested in the scent but it was Malleus' behavior that caught your attention. Instead of sniffing or lifting his nose as the others did, his forked tongue slowly slid from between his lips like a snake as if he were tasting the air. You almost laughed at the oddly reptile behavior before his gaze suddenly snapped to the door of the kitchen.

Standing in the doorway was a curious looking man that seemed to have fins on the sides of his head. His almost scaled skin had a kind of faint green tint to it with intense blue undertones, his eyes being two different colors with the right one being a pale gray and the left one being a bright gold. Atop his head were tousled blue-green locks with a singular black stripe that crossed over his forehead above his left eye.

"Oya, it seems I'm not the only one with culinary interests. Apologies for intruding, but the lovely smell drew me in. Would you mind telling me what it is you're making?"

You were surprised to see the almost Fish-like man despite how polite he was being with you. Instead of hopping in to defend you, Lilia looked at you for what you wanted to do with this interloper. Malleus seemed rather keen to rid you of this newcomer's presence but you held up a hand to stop him from acting. Part of you worried this new visitor was dangerous, but because he was wearing a school uniform you figured he was just another student.

"Soup?"

"... May I ask what kind?"

"Only if you tell me your name first and what you were doing around my dorm."

"Ah, forgive me. It seems in my haste to get to the heart of the matter, I forgot my manners. My name is Jade Leech, I'm the Vice-Housewarden of Octavinelle. I'm going to assume from your appearance you are the highly talked-of Human now living on campus. Azul informed us that you would be remaining here for the time being. As for what I was doing, I am rather interested in the foods that grow wild above water, so I was out gathering some mushrooms to sample."

He lifted the foraging bag that hung over his shoulder, showing you the contents within. He was right in that he had gathered up a fair few number of mushrooms and there were several that you actually recognized. You were no master of mushrooms- of course- but you still recognized a few species that were safe for you to eat, seeing several button mushrooms among the many gathered.

Those would be great in the soup you were making, and it was early enough that you could add them right in and they would cook just fine.

"Okay, Jade. I believe you were at least out gathering mushrooms which is innocent enough. I'm actually curious if you wanted to trade for some of those button mushrooms you have, they'd go great in the soup I'm making. In return I'll tell you about it and you can have some to eat if you'd like."

Jade actually seemed to brighten up at this, his smile becoming less strained and his expression smoothing from the stressed way his brows had been pulled together. It was almost as if he had been wanting to ask for some soup but was far too polite to actually inquire. He nodded and set his bag on the counter, letting you pick out the little rounded white mushrooms from the selection he gathered.

"I'm quite partial to the cuisines the different kingdoms have to offer. Rare as it can be to find those who are masters of their craft, I would still like to sample the meals above the ocean waves. I would be grateful for whatever knowledge you can share with me. It isn't every day that someone adept at cooking graces this school."

"Hey," Grim interrupted loudly as you set to dicing the mushrooms, "that's my Hooman you're talking to! She only cooks for me, but I'm kind enough to share with all of you. Don't forget it, got it?"

Jade gave a rather patient simper to your primary companion, resting his right hand over his heart in an almost polite gesture.

"But of course. I'm simply interested in learning to make such meals for myself. I'm certain Azul and Floyd would be keen to taste such a wonderful smelling dish."

This seemed to satisfy your little companion as he nodded with a pleased smile, watching you add the mushrooms to the rather large pot you decided to make the soup in. Thankfully it was a cauldron type pot made for cooking soups over firepits. The fire so dutifully warming your meal crackled pleasantly even as you stirred the bubbling mixture.

"Do you want to ask them to come over, Jade? I made way too much. Honestly, everyone here could all have a bowl, a second bowl, and I would still have enough soup for the rest of the week. I think I went a little overboard in the food department. Should have probably started with a smaller pot, but we're already this far..."

Jade seemed surprised at this, but nodded respectfully and pulled out his phone. You were curious just what Jade was as you really hadn't seen many fish-men during your day, but you weren't going to ask him. If he wanted to tell you what he was, that was his business. Didn't make you any less curious though.

"If you're certain? I'm sure Floyd will be thrilled to have something new to try. He doesn't like some mushrooms, but I don't believe he has tried the ones you've selected, and he certainly hasn't tried cooked mushrooms yet. Azul may try to heckle you into a deal, however. He is always looking for new ways to improve the Monstro Lounge."

"Yeah, of course I'm certain. I offered, didn't I?"

He nodded and began tapping away at his phone, but Lilia seemed rather keen to speak up. The Bat had been listening keenly to the conversation and felt he needed to make himself clear to the notoriously crafty student.

"If Azul threatens (Y/n) or tries to force her into a deal, we will have more than a few problems, understood?"

"He is aware. Believe it or not, those of us from the Coral Sea are actually quite fond of the legacy of Humans. Even Floyd has been babbling excitedly about meeting (Y/n) here."

"That's right, Humans were popular among the various merfolk kingdoms. You all even have a famous story involving the mermaid princess falling for a Human and joining him on land."

"Yes. She struck a deal with The Sea Witch to gain legs she could use to dance for the Human man she fell in love with, too bad the deal didn't hide her gills or fins though. Still, the Human loved her."

You listened to the conversation as you stirred the soup, glad that all of the flavors seemed to be coming together rather well despite the large amount of food you found yourself making. Judging from the conversation Lilia and Jade happened to be having, Jade was a Merman of some kind and apparently Mermen were one of the 'safe species' for Humans to interact with. Though you knew not to judge an individual by the species, it did put you at ease to know he was one of the safer ones.

It was as you were taste testing the soup that the door to the kitchen once again flew open as another visitor invited themselves in. It was offical now, four times proved it was far too easy to get into your dorm through that door. Maybe Lilia would be able to fix it for you, or Malleus seeing as Lilia said it was the Dragon who had mostly fixed up your current abode.

"(Y/n), you're an absolute angel! I thought I was going to have to sleep in the woods once Riddle temporarily banned me from Heartslabuyl! He won't even let me sleep in the lake even though I'm a Lake Water Nymph because of what happened. You believe me when I say I didn't mean to put you in danger, right?"

Cater had thrown himself at your feet, holding onto your legs as if he were some abandoned pet seeking shelter from a blizzard. Around his neck was a thick metal collar that extended out to the sides in black and red colors, forming a heart-shape that locked in the front with a golden and black padlock. He was careful not to get in the fire that was dutifully cooking your soup even as he groveled at your feet.

"O-oi! What's the big idea with everyone coming in that door? It's dangerous to leave that thing unlocked."

"That's what I'm saying! So much for protected and safe with that thing in here."

You couldn't help but slightly grin at Grim as he voiced your own concerns out loud. Lilia simply regarded the door, snapping his fingers to close it as a large metal bolt affixed itself to the door before clicking into place.

"There. Now it can't be thrown open anymore. But why is Cater here? Cater, when did Riddle collar you and why?"

Cater seemed to realize there were others standing around you as he suddenly straightened up, clearing his throat and taking several steps back from you. He tried to play off the desperate display he had just shown and was failing miserably. Cater looked much worse for wear than you remembered him being and you genuinely began to hope the Unicorn hadn't actually harmed the ditzy redhead.

"Well... I may have 'accidentally' posted a picture that told everyone that (Y/n) was a Human and was on NRC grounds, but I totes didn't realize it would put her in danger! Honestly!"

Lilia's bemused smile almost instantly fell away into a glare as he regarded the man standing by your side. You added a bit of salt to the soup as you wated, watching the thick broth bubble and roil with vegtables and diced meat. There were a lot of things you could do in that moment, but something told you it was best to let Lilia handle this situation.

"And what did you think was going to happen, Cater?"

"Tbh, I thought that I would just get a follower count boost and everything would be fine. The Headmage and Riddle sure made it clear I was wrong for thinking that. Lessons learned!"

"It only cost us the safety of the last Human left in Twisted Wonderland."

"I said I was sorry!"

Everyone except Cater seemed to be exceptionally upset as they all glared at him, making him duck behind you as if you were the best shield from their rage. You just let the tall student try and fail to escape the ire of the others. For once, a polite knock came at the kitchen door, breaking off the aggressive staredown taking place.

"Hey, why are we here, Azul?"

An almost sing-song voice hummed from somewhere on the other side of the door, prompting Jade to walk over and open the door for who you assumed to be the two he was talking about. In strode a rather lovely looking man with snow-white hair and shining mauve blue eyes hidden behind thin framed glasses. Around his face were lovely and intricate black markings that reminded you quite a bit of the tentacles of an octopus. Behind him lumbered a rather tall man who almost looked identical to Jade if not for the swapped eye color and slight difference in height.

"We're here because Jade told me there is a profitable venture to be had and I am not going to miss out on this chance to make the Human's acquaintance, Floyd."

The shorter one hummed in a smooth voice and you almost giggled at the rather fact-of-the-matter tone that the white haired one spoke with. You felt it was safe to assume the rather lovely man was Azul and the near identical to Jade fish-man walking with him was Floyd.

Floyd almost made a show of sniffing the air, following his nose to where you stood in front of the pot of soup, watching him curiously. Once his gaze fell on you a wide grin overtook the slight frown he had been pouting with. You could see the way his eyes trailed over your figure due to the bright yellow of his right eye highlighting his pupil as it darted up and down.

"Ne ne, what is such a cute little Shrimpy doing this far above the water? You're so small I just want to squeeze ya."

He took a single step towards you and this seemed to be enough for the two- Silver and Sebek- to suddenly intercept him with swords drawn, creating an 'X' that blocked the tall Merman from approaching further. It was more than a little surprising to see weapons suddenly drawn, but maybe you shouldn't be all that surprised. Lilia did say he came over to guard you again and even brought the others for the same purpose.

"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt them, I just want a little feel on if Shrimpy is as soft as they look!"

"Floyd, that's enough. She was polite enough to allow me to invite you and Azul over and she is quite the rare specimen, you can't threaten her so casually and expect those guarding her to not be upset."

"I didn't threaten, I just said I wanted a big ol' squeeze."

"Same difference where you are concerned."

"Eh, you're so boring sometimes, Jade. Anyway, what is Shrimpy making over there? Smells good~!"

You were stunned at the almost aggressive behavior from Floyd given how calm and level headed Jade had been thus far. Maybe it was just a quirk of Floyd's to be a little more hands on than others. It honestly made you glad to know your self-appointed guards took their task seriously as they still refused to let the large Merman near you. Speaking of your guards, Floyd didn't seem put off by their aggression in the slightest and almost seemed amused by them as if it were all one big game.

Tension was thick in the air as the almost aloof Floyd smiled at you, watching you grab several bowls and begin ladling out ten total servings. You were not really all that surprised when there was still more soup to go even after you filled enough bowls for yourself and the ever increasing number of guests.

Maybe you were right to make so much after all. Hopefully your surprise guests had all shown-

"Why is the door locked? Hey, Human, I smell food in there! I already ate all the Dandelions from this morning! Can I have some of whatever you're making? Please? I'm starving out here."

Peaking through the windows to the kitchen was a familiar grizzled muzzle of the Gnoll you had met that morning. Ruggie was staring with those unsettling bright blue eyes and you were unsure if you wanted to laugh or scream. You scolded yourself in the back of your mind, remembering that animals would often return to places if they were given food prior and no doubt the Hyena man sought to do the same.

"Should I let him in, (Y/n)?"

Lilia asked, eyeing the lock on the door as Ruggie began to loudly whine and cackle for attention. You just sighed and nodded, knowing the Hyena wasn't going to leave now that he knew there was food ready and waiting just inside.

"May as well."

The Gnoll was quick to enter once the door opened and he happily grabbed one of the ten bowls, immediately scarfing down the soup without even glancing at the now large group of men standing in your kitchen. You didn't bother offering a spoon to Ruggie as it was clear he didn't need or want one. Despite the odd group that had gathered under your roof- technically it was the school's roof, but now wasn't the time for semantics- they all seemed keen to dig in when you passed out the bowls.

Getting yourself a bowl- seeing as Ruggie had taken one of the ten- you were able to finally take in the meal of your labors. It wasn't half bad and those button mushrooms added just the right earthy flavor that really brought the soup together. All of your visitors clearly liked the soup as well and Grim was the first to ask for seconds.

"Miss (Y/n)! This is a fantastic meal! I don't think I've had such flavors in anything I've eaten before! I would only think a meal from my liege could possibly taste better!"

"Sebek," the white haired one interrupted the shouting one, "you don't need to yell at her."

"I'm talking at an adequate volume, Silver. You dare say this meal isn't divine?"

"That's not what I said at all."

Lilia giggled as the two odd characters argued, hopping off the counter to serve himself another helping of the plentiful soup. Despite the absolute lack of respect for your personal space they all seemed to share, you couldn't help but smile as well. The many men you had met were odd and so unique in many ways but none of them actually seemed all that bad once they relaxed and got talking.

Maybe these monsters weren't as monstrous as you thought when you first met them. Hopefully their worries of poachers would just prove to be worries, but you knew you weren't truly safe yet and anyone could be a threat if they genuinely wanted to be. You just hoped there wasn't another shoe waiting to drop on your peaceful evening.

~•§•~

"Trey?"

"Yes, Riddle?"

"Invite (Y/n) to tomorrow's Unbirthday party. It has become rather clear to me that no one can look after her the way the Queen demands, so I will step up and take on that task."

"Riddle..."

"She will be safe with me, I will do whatever it takes to ensure it."

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #my monster au #twst monster au #Humans Are Extinct TWST AU

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