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venomvalley · 2 years ago

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RIPE FOR THE PICKING (II)

pairing: ID!leon kennedy x gn!reader

summary: Your fake marriage is going strong and plans are set in motion. But things are never peaceful for long, and an attack from Umbrella leaves you scrambling amidst the unknown.

words: 7.6k

warnings: body horror/corpses, blood and injury mention, smut at the end so this one’s 18+!!

notes: this chapter was a beast and idk if i managed to pull off what i was trying to set up but im just here for the ride besties!!!! same as u!!! themes are hard!!!

>> PART ONE

Phase Two of your plan:

Well. Not that simple, now that you think about it.

Contact HQ. Link Carl Voerman to dealings in America. Acquire Carina’s information. Find Nolan Reed.

But you have an outline, a plan to move things forward. Namely, Carl’s emails. Provided to you in black-and-white ink, paper-clipped neatly inside a manila folder. Courtesy of his wife.

She joins you for a dinner of take-out and fancy, bitter wine—the kind of shit that rich people only pretend to enjoy. But it does the job well. Severs the anxious edge, allows you to relax.

Tonight is the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen her. Stripped down to barren bones, ripped of her high-class façade. Dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, sneakers she left at the entryway. No need for on-guard mind games when you share a common goal.

“Carl’s out on one of his escapades tonight,” she says, accent more casual, each vowel elongated. Her natural voice, you presume. “Won’t be back until tomorrow evening.”

“Were you a spy before or after you decided to marry?” Leon asks, stealing a piece of steak from your take-out container. Snarky in tone, half-assed in care, and you cut him a warning look.

“After, actually.” She chances a quick glance up before ducking her head. “I loved him, once upon a time. Before I knew what he was.”

You lean forward on an elbow, food moved aside to enable Leon’s indulgence. “And now?”

“Before this is over, I want him either dead or in jail.”

Neither you nor Leon say a goddamn word.

Amongst his emails, you find a link to various companies trading information, private dealings with CEOs, but he’s done well to cover his tracks. Simple names, most spoken in code, much like what you personally found on his computer.

Nolan Reed haunts you.

“A fake name, as you assumed. But I’ve seen his face.” Now sat on the couch, your spine straightens. Beside you, her eyes darken to fire-fanned pits. “You give me what I need, I’ll tell you everything I know.”

From the entryway, Leon scoffs. “Trust me, we’re trying.”

“And I know you’ll succeed.”

She has you by the balls. Twists a little for good measure. And now that you aren’t coerced into agreeing (an arguable oopsie on your part), you understand just how anti-bigger-picture her goal is. But you know better. Umbrella is every bit a hydra: cut off the head and three more grow back, branch off with their chaos.

It never fucking ends. Gotta sever the limbs, too, it seems. Carina might just have the solution to the problem, but there’s a bigger issue at play. Injure an animal and it scurries away to hide. To heal.

You’re gonna need one very tactical, very large rock. Kill it all at once.

You wake in the middle of the night to the blaring ring of a phone, your burner cell sat on the nightstand. Too early for whoever decided to chat. Leon jolts from a deep sleep, cusses a groggy mangle of words just as you roll over to answer.

Before you can even speak, Hunnigan begins. “Hope the two of you had a nice sleep. We need you alert and ready in twenty minutes.”

That wakes you.

“What’s going on?”

“An agent from Global Operations will be there shortly to debrief you.”

Global Operations? What the fuck are they doing all the way out here?

The line goes dead, then you jump from the bed sheets and sprint for the dresser. Leon quickly follows, spouting off questions as you remove the false backing and find your gear.

“Hunnigan said that Global Operations is in town.”

“They planning something?” he asks, grabbing the clothes you toss his way.

“Apparently. I’m guessing they need our intel.”

“For what?”

You’ve seen each other stripped down before. This is nothing new. Still, you can’t help the burst of modesty that digs into your nape. He’s seen you before. It should be fine.

Should be. These circumstances provide you with a new set of challenges, fresh hoops to jump through. Shit, when was the last time you got laid? Way before this whole mess, and now you’re stuck. Hypothetically, if you decided to jump into someone’s bed—maybe a cute stranger with a smart mouth—it wouldn’t be cheating, but yes it absolutely would.

Okay… Okay, yeah. So maybe this means something after all.

After a trip to the bathroom and a quick dressing, Leon comes to adjust the straps that pattern a criss-cross over your thighs. “Jesus—how did you tangle these so bad?”

Large fingers slot between jean and leather, and you lose a bit of your sanity during his process of twisting the straps. The most intimate he’s ever touched you, and the contact remains brain-melting.

With a resigned huff, he admits defeat.

“Leon, it’s fine. I’ll fix ‘em on the way.” With a sharp grin, your eyes lock onto the breadth of his shoulder. “But your holster isn’t any better.”

“I’ll fix it on the way,” said with raised brows, almost mocking in tone.

He stands to his full height, stretches his mouth into a perfect mirror of your own expression, and you have a decision to make. A very important, very time-sensitive one.

Fuck it. You slant your lips over his, curl a hand around the back of his neck, muss up the soft hair you find there.

And then it’s over. You step away to sheathe your knife, then holster your gun, and he scoffs from over your shoulder. “Was that one practice, too?”

You turn around to shoot him a sickly-sweet smile. “Of course, my dear. You never know who’s watching.”

He doesn’t believe it, and you don’t expect him to.

The agent sits tall enough inside the unmarked car that his hair would no doubt touch the ceiling—if he had any. A soldier sits on either side of him, armed to the teeth with weaponry.

“I bet a summer breeze feels amazing with… ya know,” Leon motions to his head. “Like when you stand on a balcony without underwear.”

The entire car of people turn to look at him, and he clears his throat, shimmies a bit closer into your side.

Agent Moriando replies with a blink before settling back into the conversation. “Anyway,” he says, voice a raking gravel, “here’s what we’re working with.”

“It was a compliment,” Leon mutters into your ear, and you comfort him with a pat to the back of his hand.

“I know, honey.”

Moriando hands over a set of well-worn papers, and you wonder how many hands they’ve passed through. The edges creased, dog-eared, ripped at one corner. Probably a hundred at this point.

The contents, however…

“Oh, you’re fucking kidding me,” you breathe.

Two days ago, a town nearby experienced an isolated attack, approximated at five thousand civilians affected—either already succumbed or anticipated to be. Method of infection: waterfall via helitanker. A first. You gotta give them credit for creativity and discretion.

But here’s the kicker: the helicopter was U.S. owned. Who signed off on the distribution remains a mystery.

“Your new Umbrella friends are suspected to be responsible.” You and Leon share a look, and Moriando gives a single chuckle. “What the hell’s taking so long, by the way? It’s been five months and you’ve found nothing.”

“No, we have. But apparently,” Leon leans back in his seat, crosses his arms over his chest, “STRATCOM didn’t think you were important enough to know about it.”

At the agent’s glare, you dive head-first into damage control. “What my partner means is: our mission is highly classified.”

“So what is this important information you’ve been sitting on?”

Leon decides to remain silent, and turns to you for answer.

“We found evidence that Carl Voerman, a wealthy exec, is involved in a secret Umbrella project. He also has experience working alongside B.O.W.s.”

“Do you think that’s our guy?”

“No. He’s just financing it. One of many others, most likely.”

“But you have leads, I’m guessing.”

Both you and Leon nod, and you say, “We’re playing the long game, sir. A mission like this requires patience and hyper-vigilance.”

“Those bastards are ruthless,” Moriando says. “I can’t say I don’t admire your loyalty to the cause.”

“Thank you, sir, but people’s lives depend on our success. We don’t really have another option.”

No pressure. No pressure at all.

The aftermath is worse on the ground. Bodies of all ages litter the streets, some curled in on themselves, some face-down, and the worst—flat on their back, more decay than matter, flaking flesh, missing lips and noses and eyelids.

The streets have been cordoned off, tents spread out as makeshift treatment centers—a guise for strapdown-style quarantines. The BSAA, local police, and military all gather together in small groups, sharing animated discussions and moments of silence and whispered gossip. They wave you through each blockade you encounter.

You swallow down rising bile, choke back a gag, and Leon comforts you with a squeak of his gloves between your shoulder blades. Says, “You never really get used it,” beneath his full-face respirator.

“Thanks for the reassurance.”

“Where Umbrella’s concerned, there is none.”

There it is. Within the ocean-tide of his eyes, a glimpse into the past. A bone-deep exhaustion ten years in the making.

Given what he’s witnessed, what he’s personally survived, you don’t know how the man goes on. How he still stands on two feet. But maybe that’s it, right? He’s seen Umbrella’s injustice firsthand, escaped the decimation of Ground Zero. How could you not keep fighting?

But maybe there’s more to the story, hidden within the blacked-out sentences of his personnel file.

You wish to know it all. Everything.

A team from the BSAA touches down shortly after you scope out the damage. With them, a leading expert in virology—a direct recommendation from the Commander himself.

Doctor Abernathy as he introduces himself, an older man, squirrely by nature, loud and fast-talking beneath his own mask.

“For this strain of virus, there are two methods of infection: skin absorption and respiration via water droplets.” He leads you through the town in the direction of his new outpost while two soldiers flank each side. Both you and Leon follow behind. “The first few hundred civilians were infected via the former, but we suspect the death toll to rise toward a thousand by morning.”

“They’re dying?” Leon asks, supporting your nauseous form with a hand wrapped tight about your bicep.

You’ve seen death before, but your dealings with Umbrella involved the living—the people catalyzing the destruction. Never fared well around gore.

“Dropping like flies, almost a domino effect. It seems that Umbrella had reason to choose such an isolated area.”

“Because they weren’t trying to start an outbreak,” Leon snaps. A quick conclusion that leaves you staring. “It was a test to see how well their virus is progressing.”

His knowledge on this subject far surpasses yours, and something akin to pride soars through you. A match made in USSTRATCOM heaven, like Hunnigan had said. **

But this affects him on a molecular level. All the death and the decay and the helplessness. The fingers around your arm tighten.

He’s seen enough. Too much.

Up ahead, Abernathy nods. “Those were my thoughts, too. Which means that someone is likely keeping an eye on the area.”

“You think they’re still in town?” you ask, glancing between the two men.

“Where they can’t be traced or become infected themselves.”

“Underground,” Leon answers easily, before shooting you a weary look. “Trust me, it’s always underground.”

Your eyes crinkle at the edges, a laugh teasing on the end of your tongue. “Like rats.”

“Exactly.”

After a long walk, Abernathy welcomes you to the outpost—and you immediately ask for something to wretch into.

The doctor exhales a sigh. Says, “You eventually get used to it,” over the sound of your coughing.

“You should never have to,” Leon whispers to you, kneeled at your side, a palm patting soft at your back.

Eventually, the nausea dissipates. A surprising feat, given the smell of metallic decay that seeps through the tent’s thick walls. Abernathy takes the stool near the opposite wall, facing two desks—one for a mountain of paperwork and the other for a laptop and a microscope and various medical instruments. You don’t inspect the setup closely. Too busy trying to reign in the hammering of your skull.

Leon helps you to your feet, and a soldier forces a bottle of water into your hand. You thank him with a tired huff.

“This is outsourced, right?” Leon asks, eyeing the condensation that drips from your palm.

The soldier nods, expression hidden behind his full-face mask. “Of course. There’s no way we’d risk drinking anything within fifty miles of this place.”

“Good.”

A long guzzle of water later, and Abernathy waves you out, citing his need to work in peace. One of his soldiers leads you to another tent, larger than the last, already busy with the herd of people pouring in and out.

“This is the man you wanna talk to. He can give you a better debrief on suspects.” The man turns on his heel and strolls back the way you came.

Inside, everything’s a mess. Discussions of containment, detainment, shifting blame, delegating responsibilities. Leon shares with you a wide-eyed glance behind the plastic screen of his respirator.

A voice bellows out, calls for order. You’ve never heard a group fall silent so quickly.

Beside you, Leon exhales a laugh. Mutters, “Things just got interesting.”

You know Chris Redfield when you see him, and the dispersing crowd provides a perfect view. Head Honcho, Countermeasures Expert, Day One Umbrella Enemy. A legend in his field. Shit, a legend in everybody’s.

Who can blame you for being a bit starstruck?

When you approach his desk—paperwork seems a common enemy amongst personnel—he nods in greeting. “If it isn’t Leon Kennedy.”

Leon shakes the hand he offers. “In the flesh.”

Then the Captain turns to you. “And you are…?”

Chris Redfield is intimidating close up. Tall and bulky, fit with a permanent scowl that seems more personal than it probably is. You wonder what he’s had to witness, too.

“This is Birdie,” Leon says. Curls an arm over your shoulders, edges you forward with a flourish of pride.

“It’s Nightingale.” You shoot Chris a weary look. “Please don’t listen to him.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve heard the stories.”

“From your sister no doubt.”

Chris pauses a moment, imperceptible to any other eye, but you witness the softness that overwhelms his features. His love makes you a little soft, too. “Amongst others.”

Beside you, Leon bristles. Regarding Chris’s comment, nothing significant stands out, which means there’s a history here. One you’re wholly ignorant to.

As such, it’s none of your business.

“Anyway,” you say, nodding plainly to the papers scattered about his desk, “what do we know about the people behind this?”

“This has Umbrella written all over it, that we’re sure of. As for specifics, we have a few individuals in mind.” Behind his own mask, his eyes crinkle at the corners. You think he might be smiling. “All thanks to your intel.”

Ah, hero worship. What a beautiful, embarrassing thing. You can never admit to anyone the sunny smile his words create.

“Ya know, I originally wanted to stay in the military, but they thought my talents could be used elsewhere. I liked to flatter more than fight, they said.”

Chris huffs out a laugh. “Were you the one who got a squad to surrender after ten minutes and a pot of coffee?”

“It was more like thirty, but yes. That was me.”

“Then they made the right choice.”

Ah, hero worship. A rosy blossom of warmth, rudely interrupted by the reintroduction of Leon into your basking bubble.

He sidles up next to you, ghosts a hand down your spine before remembering himself and pulling away. “Well, this has been fun, but we should probably talk strategy.”

You miss his touch, and the skin sears from where he pulls away—a phantom pain.

The strategy: you and Leon go in first. A bigger group would draw attention, scare away your little rat hiding in the tunnels. Chris and his team give you thirty minutes before they storm in after you. Long enough to find the suspect.

It’s a good plan. Redfield knows what he’s doing, and so does Leon. You’ll be fine.

During the hour-long trek to the sewers, Leon strays a fair distance on the opposite side of the empty, cragged road. You reign him in again, and again, and again, but akin to magnetic likepoles, you continue to repel each other.

Maybe it was the thing Redfield said. Maybe you pissed him off somewhere along the way. Maybe he’s just too deep in his own head.

Regardless, you trail after him. Catch him by the arm. “You’re moping.”

“I’ve never moped a day in my life.”

“You don’t gotta lie to me, ya know.”

His mouth pinches at the corners, brow furrowing. “Death likes to follow me. Been that way since I was little.”

“I’m guessing the Captain reminded you of that.”

At the sewer entrance, he stops. Turns to look at you. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

A bit of you melts at the statement, confounded by its sincerity. You wonder how many people he’s lost in this fight, how many souls he’s sent off. How many funerals he’s attended. In the grand scheme of things, the rotting bodies he once called friends and colleagues and even family are just a drop in the ocean to the scale of Umbrella’s destruction. Maybe that’s what haunts him the most.

Regardless, you understand the weight of death. How well it siphons, sings, sinks to some unkempt pit where the good ones always end up—dewdrop memories that always, inevitably fade over time.

He can’t see your impish smile, but you paint it on anyway. Hope that he hears the jest in your voice, that you could never blame him. “If I get hurt, it’ll be of my own volition, thank you very much.”

A stubborn grunt from the back of his throat. “Glad to hear it.”

The sewer blisters with darkness the deeper you travel, despite the reprieve of both flashlights, but your mask thankfully dulls the smell. Something lurks just beneath the water, knee-deep and murky. Teases gooseflesh on the back of your neck. Each drip of the stone ceiling jolts you. Not even the comfort of your gun in hand quells the intrusive haunt of your presence.

Whatever lives in here wants you out.

“I’ve never done well with the unknown,” you say, barely a whisper within the looming walls. Rounded much like an archway, as long and desolate and maze-like as a catacomb.

Okay. You’re freaking out a bit. A lot, actually.

“Ever been in a sewer before?”

“Never.”

“Luckily for you, I’m a fantastic tour guide.”

Up ahead, the water splashes. Nowhere to go but a small lip of land on each side, barely wide enough to plant your feet. Nowhere to go at all, then.

Leon braves the danger first, form relaxed as he sidesteps his way toward the surfacing bubbles. As if he’s done this, been here a thousand times. Because he has.

He glances over his shoulder, holds a hand toward you as the water wells and wanes—

then silence.

An overwhelming, eerie calm.

Leon keeps his gun raised, poised toward the waterway’s intersection.

Silence then chaos. You blink and he’s gone, instead a splashing path carved out by a large, scaled tail.

You chase down the trail through the maze-like labyrinth and thank the BSAA gods for the protective gear. Would’ve been infected long ago with the way you trip and splash through the thickened sludge.

But who are you kidding? You would risk it for him anyway. A scary thought, that. One you have no time to dwell on given the circumstances—he’s probably already drowned somewhere, and you’ve delved far enough into the sewer that bodies crunch underfoot. Rotted hands float on the surface of jelly-esque water. Each step like sloshing through mud.

The trail ends at a ramp of sorts, leads into a clawing darkness that not even your flashlight penetrates. On the back of your neck, gooseflesh rises. The water tugs you forward, down, into the gaping maw of whatever awaits.

What would Leon do? **Shit, he would brave the unknown, slide headfirst into its depths. But you aren’t that fearless. Harbor opposing skill sets for a reason. You talk your way out of confrontation, have only seen mutations and B.O.W.s through the lens of fake credentials and test tubes.

But he’s your partner, and he’d do it for you.

Sliding down the ramp is a surprisingly dangerous journey, what with the pot hole that catches your foot and sends you flying asshole over elbow. At the bottom, your side smacks into the grating, and all the breath expels from your lungs in one heaving cough.

As you rise to your knees, pain a searing ache throughout your torso, a mourning wail echoes from somewhere out of sight. Inhuman, a slight growl to its edges.

Get up. The pain hasn’t set in yet.

Get up. You’re okay.

The wall keeps you upright as your feet follow the one-way path laid out before you. Down here, you find no streams of water but puddles fed a continuous drip from cracks in the stone above. They land on your mask and you clear the condensation with a wipe of your glove.

The longer you walk, the louder the cries become. Your adrenaline stays spiked, stays a choking heartbeat as you stroll along. Nothing hurts yet, but there’s anticipation for both beginning and end.

You pass by a break in the wall, large enough for you to fit through, and past that: a white-coat man, tall and dark-haired and young in the face, pacing beneath a collapsed ceiling. Beside him stands a lithe creature, half-reptilian for all its scales and large tail, stalactite hackles rising upon your notice. And behind them you spot Leon, suit dripping wet, face bloody beneath it, sat in a folding chair.

Against the wall, you spot a desk with two separate laptops: one with a clear view of the streets above via security cameras, and the other with a set of three different graphs, though you fail to read the small text.

Huh. Leon was right.

You think you might be in shock. Taking the whole your partner was kidnapped by The Enemy and a monstrous creature thing way too well.

“Here to save your husband, I suppose?” asks the man, face stretched into an expression you can’t quite place. Almost hospitable, if you can believe it.

“I was hoping to.”

He laughs, and Leon leans forward to rest his elbows on shaking knees, no doubt chilled to the bone. But the sight of him alive renews your energy, makes you stand a little straighter.

A part of you wishes to impress him, and you blame it on the adrenaline. The fish-out-of-water situation you’ve found yourself in.

“Carl said you were a spitfire. I can see why.” At your broken sigh, he nods to you, angles his head in question. “That was quite a nasty fall. Would you like to take a seat?”

“I’d like to get out of here, actually.”

Then, the pout of a lip. “I’m hurt. You don’t want to woo me first? Maybe talk me over to the good side?”

The creature circles behind you, nudges you forward with a sharpened muzzle, and you obey until you’re a few feet away from where Leon sits and the man stands beside him.

Already, the man’s face has begun to change, deep red burns peeling away to decay at his hairline. The runoff has made its way down here, and breathing all that infected air in. Well. You’re surprised he still remains intact.

Behind him, the cameras onscreen trigger movement. Chris and his team breaching the sewer entrance. Something the scientist fails to notice, enraptured as he is by you. But this is good. You can use his preconceptions to your advantage.

A wave of calm washes over you, a familiarity that soothes chattering bones. Keep him busy, get him talking. This is what you’re good at.

“How are you still so unaffected? By the virus, I mean?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would, actually. I’m quite interested in how Umbrella operates these things.”

He takes a moment to answer, but eventually motions around the room. “This is how. Testing. Testing viruses, testing antidotes, testing our little friends.” He then waves to the creature still stood at your side, a strange clicking sound swelling its throat. “I think he likes you.”

“What a coincidence. I’ve always wanted a bioweapon as a pet.”

Leon huffs out a laugh, and the scientist’s expression shifts. Not exactly anger—disappointment, you suppose.

“He’s quite a good boy, actually. He follows commands well.”

“Why didn’t he take me, then?” you ask.

“Because I knew you would follow.”

A valid point. If he’s heard of you through Carl, then he knows the nature of your relationship. Or more accurately, he thinks he does.

“So why haven’t you killed us?”

“Maybe I miss having company. Maybe I wanted to meet the two people my boss has talked so much about.”

There it is. He realizes his mistake the same time you do. Get people talking long enough, ask nonsensical questions, and they always slip up.

“Carl’s your boss.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He stares at you a long moment, eyes wide, jaw tense beneath the skin. But the damage is already done. Carina’s information—Nolan Reed—is within reach.

In another life, you think he would’ve been a better person. Charismatic enough to do good and do it well. Any outcome but this, left to rot inside some catacomb of filth. Umbrella never planned for him to make it out alive.

“Listen,” you say, stepping closer to him, and the creature hisses in defense. “You obviously have a conscience, and that’s something we can’t afford to lose.”

“Apologies, but my loyalties lie elsewhere.”

“I don’t think that’s true. I think you know that they never planned for you to leave this place alive.” You glance over to Leon, slowly blinking behind his mask. Something toxic wells up the back of your throat, seeks to comfort him with clawing fingers. But you cast the urge aside, need to focus. “There’s a much better place for you. A place where you can finally do good.”

“Where I can be a slave to the government?” From the corner of your eye, Leon lowers his head. “No thank you.”

“As if Umbrella’s any better? At least we aren’t hurting people.”

“You hurt more than you think.”

“We aren’t the ones killing thousands with man-made viruses.”

“Neither am I. But are we not products of the same system? Doing our higher-ups’ bidding?”

You remain silent. He’s right. Undeniably. Not everyone associated with the Umbrella symbol is bad, the same way not everyone representing the government or the BSAA or the military are good. Just cogs in one very broken, very unfair machine. You had a choice—a lot of people don't receive the same luxury.

“No. You’re right.”

In response, he nods his head, and there it is. The adrenaline crash. The pain that lances up your side, that shallows your breath.

The scientist will die soon, and the poor creature along with him. Victims in two very different ways, yet the same. Is he catalyst or scapegoat? Which would be easier to accept? That he damned thousands of innocents, or that he, too, fell prey to honeyed words and galaxy-sized dreams. Like Mary or Carina or the other spouses.

You don’t know.

Redfield’s team bursts in, and the creature is downed before you can seek solace beneath the table. The scientist is taken out in handcuffs. Leon stays seated.

You can’t help it. You fix his hair with a soft hand, spread your lips into a comforting smile. The man is hauled off, taken in for questioning. The hard part—the who—will soon be over. You can breathe for a moment.

“You okay?” you ask, eyeing the swath of blood smeared across his temple and congealed in his hair.

He heaves a shrug, post-adrenaline in the way exhaustion bears prominence behind his eyes. “Head wounds bleed. A lot. I’m more concerned about you and that fall you took.”

He soothes gentle fingers down your side, and your breath catches on a hiss when he hits a spot rife with tenderness. “Cracked ribs at the worst. Not much I can do besides rest.”

Just outside of town, Doctor Abernathy sends you into quarantine. A harsh hosing down, a change of clothes, a checklist of symptoms to run through. Leon leaves with a diagnosis of a minor concussion, and you with three cracked ribs. Both of you require tried and true rest. The best medicine in the book.

On the drive home, a long four hours later, both of you remain silent. Sunrise threatens the horizon, peaks of gold behind sawed-off mountains and spotty trees. The start of autumn a few weeks out.

Six months on Saturday. Almost an anniversary at this point, less a celebration than a reigning of reality. You’re alone again. Thrown to the wolves, a little lamb on unsteady feet.

You wonder how old the scientist was. If he was even a scientist at all.

In the seat beside you, Leon stirs awake. Wipes his eyes with the heel of a palm, winces when he catches the medical tape holding the gauze in place just above his eye.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more help back there,” you say. The words just come out, because you look at him and his bruised arms and his injured head and you see failure. “I might’ve made things worse, actually.”

You were scared. Terrified. If you had been faster, then maybe… fuck, you don’t know anymore.

He takes a moment to look at you, and then he smiles, and you know what’s coming. “I’m not used to playing the damsel in distress. It was kinda fun.”

“Did you really think I was gonna come rescue you?”

“Never doubted it.” He stretches best he can in the small space then turns back to face you. “The flips were a nice touch, by the way. But you should probably work on your landing.”

You breath slow through your nose to suppress a laugh, and the clench of your stomach aggravates sensitive bones. “I will never step foot in another sewer again. You can handle the fighting next time.”

“Not so much fighting as I was drowning.”

“Yeah. I thought you died.” His face softens, and you reach over to pat him on the knee. “Glad you’re still with me.”

“That’s sappy, even for you.”

“I am not sappy.”

“No, I like it. The other agents I’ve worked with have these big sticks up their asses. It’s nice to work with someone who still remembers how to be human.”

Oh. Huh. That’s… well. Sweet. Tooth-rotting, actually. The nicest thing he’s ever said to you, you think. And you aren’t sure how to respond.

Regardless, the silence that follows is comfortable.

You’re back home by late morning. Dead on your feet, impossibly sore, but alive. After a quick change of clothes, the two of you pass out in bed then wake sometime after dark.

He meets you in the kitchen, nursing a pack of sliced turkey and a glass of water. The snack of winners, you suppose.

“I was thinking earlier, and I’m honestly surprised,” he says. “You sure know how to sweet-talk.”

You take a seat on the couch nearby, reality still rosy at the edges from your long nap. “It’s my job, remember?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to be so good at it. Almost charmed the pants right off me and I was just a witness.”

“I can be charming when I want to.”

“That makes two of us.”

He pulls a fifth of whiskey from the shelf and two glasses from the cabinet and you know your night’s done for. You’ll be drinking half the bottle.

“Leon, you can’t drink with a concussion.”

“Well, the ibuprofen in the cabinet isn’t cutting it, so this is the next best thing.”

You think to argue but then remember the hellish day he just had. Fuck everything, both of you deserve it. Just this once.

Leon collapses onto the couch beside you, head lolling against the cushion. He doesn’t say anything and neither do you. What is there to say? Just another trauma piled atop so many others. You’ve heard and said it all before. He’s exhausted and so are you.

The first two glasses go down easy, desperation clouding the bitter burn that steals your breath and settles deep within your chest.

He stares as you fill your glass a third time, eyes a drilling pressure. Curious yet tentative.

“Just say it,” you whisper, and a warm palm rises to rest heavy on your knee.

“I just.” He exhales a sigh. “It’s always hard the first time, so if you need to talk…”

“You’re here?”

You look to him with a weakened smile, lidded eyes, and he nods. Says, “Yeah.”

You can blame it on the alcohol tomorrow, but a gnawing yearn nicks at the base of your skull.

Fuck it. Just this once.

You fall into his side, and he wraps steady arms around you, and he presses a kiss to your temple, and your tears stain the fabric of his shirt—but it means nothing.

At least he’s here. Who else but him do you have? Can you trust?

Nobody.

“Can I admit something?” you ask, a hand spread over his ribs, each inhale grounding. A perfect guide, a pathway to calm. The whiskey’s done its job with dulling the pain, and you sag in relief. Relax a little heavier into him.

He nods, the scruff at his chin prickly against your forehead.

“I am so unbelievably lonely. I mean, I have you, but we can only trust each other and it’s… it’s wearing on me.” You pull away to regard him: exhaustion sallowing his features, eyes carved-out and hollow, a bruise formed along his cheekbone, the gauze sat just above his eyebrow. Your thumb ghosts over his bottom lip. “I just wanna go home.”

Home home. Not this false life you grow more comfortable with each time you wake. With Leon at your side. Cuddled against you, sharing breakfast, kissing away your anxieties.

I’m here. If nobody else cares for you, I do.

And it’s so easy to believe. Easy as thought, as your beating heart, as hunger or thirst. But this life you’ve made, the lies you spin—they mean nothing.

Still. Still, you succumb. To the thought that maybe the mission affects him just as much as you. That somewhere within, feelings bud and grow and nurture and sometimes they make it so fucking hard to simply breathe.

You’ll return home and Leon will resume his workplace attitude and that thought should not hurt as badly as it does.

But it’s the alcohol talking. It has to be.

Why does that hurt the most?

“We shouldn’t be here much longer,” he says. “Not with Carina’s help.”

You fall silent. Tuck your brow against the curve of his neck.

At least you’ve stopped crying.

“I should not have drank tonight,” you say, little more than a whinging grumble. “I’m being too honest.”

His chest jolts with a huffing laugh, and your lips spread into a smile against his shoulder. He replies, “What’s that saying? A drunken mouth speaks sober thoughts?”

Late into the night, he sleeps soundly beside you. Shirtless as usual, an arm cradling the pillow beneath his head, turned toward the window. Away from where you curl up beneath the sheets.

He prefers for you to hold him. Never says it, but he sleeps more soundly with you pressed against his back, an arm slung over his waist. The nightmares fail to reach him here, like this.

You find a deep scratch neighboring the knots of his spine, and a deep-down part of you aches for him. His suffering. Those blacked-out lines in his file.

You trace along the bright pink edge with a thumb, his skin sleep-warm to the touch, peppered with freckles, and he never stirs.

The next morning, he kisses you over a cup of coffee. Lingers at your side for the better part of two hours as you make breakfast then eat then clean up the mess.

He wishes to say something, works up the nerve. You know him well enough by now.

“Do you regret coming here?” A question you expected. “With me?” His addition, however…

You pause mid-cup-wash at the sink. The water heaves as you drop both items in your hands then turn to face him. To give him your full, unwavering attention.

A conversation, months in the making, has to take place.

“Of course I don’t. Why would you think that?”

He offers no answer at first. Simply stares off toward the floor, arms a thick shield across his chest.

You remember everything from yesterday despite the haze you witness your words through. And then it hits you.

“If it’s about anything I said yesterday, please don’t listen to me. I’m a dumbass when I’ve been drinking.”

“It’s not just that. It’s…” His words trail off and you see in his eyes the shutdown.

“Leon, I don’t know how I could’ve done this without you.” His shoulders sag, and you reach for the dish towel beside the sink to dry off your hands. “Did somebody say something?”

“Nobody had to. But it doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.” You hold up your left hand with a wide grin, and the ring gleams beneath the window’s morning sunstream. “Married, remember?”

It’s a good cover-up until you can figure out where he stands in all this. Feelings and such. They love to ruin perfectly good things.

He tosses his head as if speared by irritation, and you wish to snatch those words from the air and swallow them down. When he removes his ring, turns it between thumb and forefinger—forever yours—you deflate.

“We’re fighting a losing battle. You know that, right?”

You’re no stranger to the heart of disillusion. In a field such as yours, it bears prominence. Flays people alive. So much bad in the world, and you’re only one person. Can’t possibly snuff out all of it. So you understand his point. He’s fought long enough—too long.

But you like to believe that there’s a cathartic ending to this, whenever and wherever that may be. If not, then why fight at all?

“We still gotta try,” you say. “I’m tired of Umbrella turning people into victims. Aren’t you?”

A little close to home, but you need to reign him in. Can’t risk losing sight of the goal. Not when you’re this close to the finish line.

He closes his eyes, fingers curling around the ring, and his face pinches a moment before he relaxes, almost resigned. “You already know my answer.”

The house lay quiet this late at night, and you could almost find serenity in the dim-lit hallways and creaking pipes if not for the paperwork you search through, passed off by hands belonging to Carina’s second-in-command.

Captain Redfield’s findings. A link between Carl Voerman and the United States, as testified by the captured “scientist” who, you come to find out, joined the organization to follow in his father’s footsteps. Always a cycle to be continued, and never a chance to break away until it’s too late.

He was nineteen.

But you digress. Can’t think on it too hard.

Part one of phase two: complete.

Leon passes by the dining table an hour into your reading. Grabs a glass of ice water, takes the seat to your left. He lands heavy in the chair, blows out a breath. Readies himself for conversation. Something darkens his eyes, leaves his hands restless against the chilled glass.

“What you said a few nights ago. About being lonely.”

A pull of your lips, barely there. Nostalgia, in the way only whiskey-forgotten memories can be. “Leon, I was drunk.”

“But did you mean it?”

You fingers pause amongst the papers, and you look up at him. Hope and pray that you hide the severity of your longing. “Yeah.”

He nods. Leans both elbows on the table with a resigned sigh. “So am I.”

Something settles between you then. A tension not unlike the lead-up to a first kiss, or the moments before a heartfelt confession. A shift that pockmarks change.

You’re holding your breath.

“Maybe we can figure something out,” he says, eyes tracing the edges of each paper you hold.

“Well. Marriage is about compromise, after all.”

He breathes out a laugh through his nose. “That it is.”

There’s not really a compromise at all. Instead, an unspoken agreement that leads you to your shared bedroom. A frenzy that strips you naked and lays you upon the sheets and fuck—he kisses you like he actually loves you.

You ask to ride him. It’s been a while, and you’ve never minded a stretch, but you prefer to control the pace. You also don’t think his head would appreciate all the exertion.

The eye contact happens and then it doesn’t. Over and over again. The bounce of your hips is slow, and everything is slick and tight, and his fingers brush against your waist only to remind himself of where he is, who you are. Nothing but letting off some steam: that’s what this should be.

You refuse to hide your pleasure. No sense in it when you were dripping for him before he even touched you. His breathing staccatos each time you swallow him up, and you couldn’t fight the clutch of your insides if you tried.

“This okay?” you pant, pace quickening. Maybe it’s been too long, maybe you’re too goddamn sensitive, but the drag of his cock lights a fire at the base of your spine. Your eyes threaten to roll back into your head.

“Yeah.” His jaw clenches as you work him over with a grinding roll of your hips, and his palms soothe over the top of your thighs—the cold metal of his wedding ring scorches your skin. His eyes glue to the sight, to the pinpoint of his pleasure. “Feels good.”

You swallow down a sighing moan and try not to collapse atop him. It’s been so long, and his eyes roam your body like he wants you, and he looks so good like this: red-faced and focused and messy-haired. The intimacy seeks to flay you alive, break you open, rip you to pieces.

He meets your gaze and you almost wish to cry when he doesn’t look away. You feel tender. Mushed by mallet. He whispers your name and you shatter into fractals of fractals. “Very good.”

Someone kisses first, and you cross a threshold of no return. Indelible nothingness. A hand rises to the nape of your neck and you moan pitifully into his mouth and he meets your hips thrust-for-thrust. Carnal need in its purest form. Lust.

This means nothing.

He feels amazing, perfect, you could die like this—but it means nothing.

The next morning, when the smoke’s cleared and the hormones have balanced out, you sneak glances at each other from across the kitchen table. Neither of you mention the sex, but you don’t have to. A bruised blotch of skin sits proud on the curve of his neck. You walk with a slight limp. There’s an air of pride to the room.

The aftermath should be awkward, but it isn’t. You’re married. You’re a married couple who now fucks. Maybe now, people will stop questioning your authenticity.

He can bend you over the goddamn banquet table if they want proof.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #x reader #my fics #series: ripe for the picking

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crescenthistory · 7 days ago

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hi my darlings 🤍 sorry for disappearing on you — a lot happened at once. often i turn to writing when life gets tough, but now i’ve just needed a breather.

i’ve just been hospitalised for a while because of my chronic illness and disability, which was hard, but at least i’m getting the help i need. i’m officially back on the streets! the downside is i’m now too ill to work and am scrambling to get some sort of financial support to pay my rent lols:,)

my lovely lovely dog and companion also passed away. her name was tinka and she is one of the best things to have happened to me 🫂 look at this cutie!! i will miss her always.

i’m alright and will be back whenever i get my bearings — i just had to get off any and all social media for a while. i’m doing better and have thankfully been able to defer my exams, so i’ve only got to crank out some essays, which i can do from my bed 🙏

genuinely from the bottom of my heart, thank you to all the people who reached out! and to the people who kept interacting as if i was here<3 it truly means the world to be faced with persistent compassion like this, all my love goes out to you<33 take care of yourselves 🫶 big hugs xx

#carina chats #it’s been a Month #we’ve also gotten my best friend’s terminal diagnosis more under control and we’re now mostly secure that he’ll live to see his wedding #i’m crossing all my fingers for it #it meant the world to me to finally get my ehlers danlos diagnosis in writing #previously i’ve had doctors be like “yeah that’s gotta be what you have” but no more #weight off my shoulders to finally have it figured out #i’m doing relatively alright mentally all things considered #and seriously. the few times i’ve popped in here it’s truly made my day to see any dms or asks<3 #just noticing someone’s gone or sending them a little love can make such a difference #thank you and i love you 🫶#i hope everyone else is thriving #big hugs

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moonenvvy · 8 months ago

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"thanks again and no worries, i definitely know that i can't afford a new scrape or bruise every day." she was sure that would be a worrisome sight. "are you a doctor or a nurse? or just a very hand person?" she asked with a small chuckle as she brushed off her hands. vivi remembered she used to be so concerned with getting dirty and always presenting as a proper lady, but now it was one of the lowest things on her list of priorities.

"i'm glad that you're alright." carina said with a small smile, relief across her face. "but you should really be more careful." she added with a slight shake of her head, looking at the other. she was just happy that she had been there. "it happens to all of us, but just promise you'll pay more attention? at least i always carry my first aid kit. you never know what might happen."

#saltedair #c; carina #chat; vivi nefertari #injury tw

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pushupcontest · 1 year ago

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19 (and extras) group chat

Part 1: Vic’s phone contacts: Maya: Cap 🫡 Travis: platonic soulmate (bff) 💅💅💅💅💅 Sullivan: Sully 🤢 Andy: Ex boss's daughter 👩🏽‍🚒 Carina: Cap’s wife aka 🐱👩🏽‍⚕️ Ben: Dad 👨🏾 Theo: guy who killed bff’s husband 🖕🖕🖕 Dean: Pru’s dad ⛴️ Jack: Dude 👨🏼 Emmett: bff’s bf 👨‍❤️‍👨 Me 💃: what's every1 wearing to the fundraiser tn? platonic soulmate (bff) 💅💅💅💅💅: Probs just a suit Dude 👨🏼: same Me 💃: boringgggg Ex boss's daughter 👩🏽‍🚒: I’m probably gonna wear a simple black dress Cap 🫡: I am also going to wear a simple dress. Dad 👨🏾: Suit Cap 🫡: Do not forget that plus ones are also invited!! bff’s bf 👨‍❤️‍👨: Travis sm I gnna be your plis one?? Cap’s wife aka 🐱👩🏽‍⚕️: What should I bring to the fundraiser? platonic soulmate (bff) 💅💅💅💅💅: can you bring your special lasagna for me 🙏🙏🙏?? platonic soulmate (bff) 💅💅💅💅💅: and a jacket so we don’t have to listen to you complain about the weather all night :) Cap 🫡: Travis don't bully my wife. bff’s bf 👨‍❤️‍👨: @ platonic soulmate (bff) 💅💅💅💅💅 you didnt answrr my question? platonic soulmate (bff) 💅💅💅💅💅 : we’re literally in the same place right now you can just ask me in person … Cap’s wife aka 🐱👩🏽‍⚕️: Just for that last comment I’m not making you lasagna for two months. guy who killed bff’s husband 🖕🖕🖕: Is attendance for this fundraiser mandatory? Cap 🫡: Yes. platonic soulmate (bff) 💅💅💅💅💅 : @ Cap’s wife aka 🐱👩🏽‍⚕️ nooooo I can't live without your lasagna 😭😭😭 Pru’s dad ⛴️: Can I bring Pru as my plus one? I don’t have a babysitter. Ex boss's daughter 👩🏽‍🚒: Yes please bring Pru! Cap 🫡: Sure. Ex boss's daughter 👩🏽‍🚒: Did anyone hear about the police officer who got arrested for kidnapping a teenage girl? Pru’s dad ⛴️: Yeah I saw that on the news. Cap 🫡: Me too, the way everyone covered it up for him is so messed up. Dude 👨🏼: what????? I didn't know about that!!! Me 💃: don't you watch the news? Dude 👨🏼: I watch the sports channel… Me 💃: … Cap’s wife aka 🐱👩🏽‍⚕️: This is why Maya is dating me and not you……… Dude 👨🏼: … Cap 🫡: … Cap’s wife aka 🐱👩🏽‍⚕️: :) Me 💃: shit the fundraiser starts in 15 mins, i need to get ready Ex boss's daughter 👩🏽‍🚒: Shit, me too! Bye guys! platonic soulmate (bff) 💅💅💅💅💅 : Oh no I don’t have time to put on my new hair gel! Cap 🫡: How long does it take you to put on hair gel? platonic soulmate (bff) 💅💅💅💅💅 : Thirty minutes if I want it to look perfect.

#carina deluca #carina x maya #incorrect quotes #maya bishop #maya x carina #station 19 #marina #group chat #station 19 group chat #jack gibson #ben warren #travis montgomery #theo ruiz #vic hughes #andy herrera #robert sullivan #dean miller #emmett dixon #lasagna

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ryuzakemo128 · 2 months ago

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The Carina's Heart Galaxy

Chapter Two: What The Fuck?

Pairing: Poly!141 x Female Reader/ You

Content Warning: Sex doll mention, female reader is slight unhinged (Soap's Opinion), Female reader loves explosives (Much to soaps fear and delight imo), possible swearing and cussing?. If I missed something let me know.

Words: 1602

Dividers Credit: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Masterlist

Summary: Who knew I’d meet you again so soon?

Who knew I’d meet you again so soon? Here I thought my day couldn’t get any weirder. I spoke to you last night and now I’m speaking to you again. Except this time, you’re in your space themed pyjamas, galaxy socks with cats prints, shark shaped slippers and a shark beanie. Kate said she was important, or rather her brain is. I didn’t know why until I saw you midway through your laser gun experiment round.

The charcoal grey brunch coat hanging on for dear life on your shoulders while your giant full ball of a cat watched with disdain of the noise you were making. The pink collar with the rose gold name tag with Mr. Whiskers in cursive engraved into the metal tag. The regal behaviour from a cat large enough to be the side of a medium sized dog remained palpable.

“Hey! You. You’re the guy I was talking to yesterday. Or am I just imagining things?” you remarked. “I forgot to ask how you liked dessert last night. The chocolate fudge I mean.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at your question and the amount of high energy you managed to summon at the sight of me, “It was rather sweet and salty. Though I am surprised you remember that.”

You looked at me with puzzlement, “Why wouldn’t I remember? That was a pretty intense chat we had last night. Besides sea salted caramel fudge is the best kind of fudge.”

Soap raised an eyebrow at the mention of your favourite type of fudge, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Sea salted caramel, you say? That’s quite the taste you’ve got there, Doc.”

“Specific, but the diner I usually go to at night sometimes. They make the best kind.” You commented. “Sure, the whole diner is a little suspect on the outside. But man, the fudge is the best.”

Gaz nodded, his eyes lighting up with the same enthusiasm. “I know the one. They’ve got a secret recipe. The owner is an ex-navy chef. He’s got a taste for the sweet and salty combination.”

“Yeah. Not too far off from my father’s taste for dipped buttered toast with his porridge.” You quipped with a smirk.

Gaz looked to be reeling in from the conversation we had last night after I returned to the safe house. Whistling an upbeat tune, it took him by surprise, in fact it took them all by surprise. He never whistled like that. Ever.

“What’s got you so chipper?” Soap asked, his eyes looking at me with suspicion.

Ghost looked at me with equal amount of suspicion, he also questioned, “What has you in such a good mood?”

I smirked from ear to ear, feeling the energy in the room shift slightly. You had a certain charm about you that was infectious, even if you didn’t realize it. The way you spoke about your love for science and the mundane yet delightful things in life was refreshing. It was as if you didn’t have a care in the world, despite the chaos that probably swirled in your mind with your job.

“I met someone at the diner.” I told them. It did nothing to ease their suspicions. “Ah, you should have seen her. Beautiful in her midnight blue dress with silver stars.”

“Talking my ear off about quantum entanglement and how she doesn’t believe ‘fate’ exists.” I continued after a breathy pause. “And her car? A gorgeous vintage.”

“The biggest, largest bonus of the entire night? She grabbed my hand, wrote her number with a pink sharpie and bought me dessert before she left.” I was rambling. I knew that. But how could I not? How could I not ramble about the woman that made a lasting impression on me?

You probably could kick my arse, and I’d thank you for it afterwards. A strong woman like you? Rare. A strong and smart woman like you? Even rarer.

It was when they saw you disintegrate a soda can in your pyjamas while your cat looked on with disinterest. Soap saw you shoot the thing in your makeshift shooting range with your makeshift targets made from a stack of empty soda cans. He only found you there after hearing the evil cackle you made from behind the brick fence.

Things started making far more sense after seeing you in person finally. Though the amount of sense wasn’t all that much. The level of unhinged is only amplified by the fact that you couldn’t be bothered to change out of your pyjamas first.

Soap recognised you from an explosive drill you did to ‘get a better handle on things’. He was far too scared to ask what you meant at the time. The grenade you altered and wanted to test out? How you said it was meant to replicate the effects of outer space in a compact form.

You are a contradiction of sorts. A living, breathing contradiction, paradox and conundrum altogether. “How did you like that grenade I made?” you asked Soap. “I have made a few upgrades since the last version. I can’t wait to show you the progress I made.”

You brought them up on the digital whiteboard on the wall of your lab. The upgrades were: sticky grip, vanta black coating, heavily reduction in shrapnel, a more concentrated burst of energy, the ability to create a small vacuum around it and, my personal favourite, a self-destruct mechanism that would make Q proud.

Soap looked at you with a mix of awe and fear. “Jesus, Doc. That's... That's some serious shit you're playing with here. How the hell do you even come up with these ideas?”

"Regular grenades, grenade launchers, they're all so... pedestrian." You say with a dismissive wave of your hand, a hint of mischief glinting in your eyes. "But a grenade that can stick to surfaces, reduce collateral damage, and create a temporary vacuum? That's a game-changer. It's like bringing a piece of the cosmos into combat."

The room falls silent for a moment, the weight of your words hanging in the air like the aftermath of a supernova. Then, Soap laughs, a boisterous sound that fills the lab. "You're insane, Doc, you know that? In the best possible way." He says, clapping his hands together with the kind of excitement that only a seasoned soldier could muster for something so potentially destructive.

"I named it after the Fibonacci sequence." you told him.

Soap looked at you with bewilderment. "The Fibonacci sequence? As in, the mathematical sequence that appears in nature?"

"Yes. That one." you were buzzing with so much excitement.

Soap nodded slowly, a smirk playing on his lips. "Alright, Doc. You've officially out-nerded us all. A grenade named after a maths sequence that's supposed to replicate space?"

“Just wait till you see my gaming set up.” You stated. Hinting at one of your hobbies you have.

You showed off your gaming set up in the room beside your lab. The framed posters of movies you enjoyed on the walls. The mouse pad with the Doom Slayer on it and your computer had a Lady Maria from bloodborne animated wallpaper on all three of your computer monitors.

The life-sized statue of The Master Chief from the Halo game series. The rug with the Millennium Falcon printed onto it. Though the sex doll you had in the other corner of the room was rather specific, with the j-cup sized breasts, blonde hair, height of 5 foot 3 and brown eyes.

“Is that...?” Soap’s eyes widened, pointing to the doll.

"A sex doll? Yes." you answered.

Soap looked at the doll again, his expression unreadable. "What's the story behind that?"

"Apart from the outfits I put on her to see if it'll look any good on my own figure?" you asked.

Soap’s face was a picture, a mix of shock and confusion. “You dress her up?”

"Did you expect me to leave her naked?" you questioned.

Ghost smothered a laugh with his hand while Gaz's eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere except at the doll. Soap was the only one who remained unfazed, his gaze lingering on the doll with a sort of detached curiosity.

"Truth be told, I'm surprised you even spotted it." you snickered.

Soap’s curiosity grew, “How’d you get into gaming?”

"Older brother." you answered.

Soap raised an eyebrow, "He sounds like quite the character."

"Yeah, but he wasn't into hentai like I am so there." you quipped.

Soap and Gaz exchanged a look, clearly surprised by your candidness. Ghost remained stoic, his gaze lingering on the doll with an unreadable expression. You didn't miss the glances, but you were used to people's reactions to your unconventional hobbies. You shrugged it off, moving over to your computer.

"You guys play games?" you asked, changing the subject. The room felt awkwardly silent, but you didn't mind. It was your space, your sanctuary, and you felt comfortable with your newfound guests.

"Yeah, we've got our fair share of downtime." Soap admitted, "What's your go-to?"

"Bloodborne, Elden Ring, Doom 2016, Doom Eternal, Halo Reach, and, The Evil Within 2." You replied without a moment's hesitation.

I didn't think I would have liked her this much. Though to be fair I wasn't expecting to bump into her to begin with. Sure, you weren’t what I imagined you to be. But I like it better this way. Soap and Ghost assumed you were socially inept as soon as I told them you were a scientist.

I’m just glad I finally met someone with the right kind of madness inside them.

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wethekidnappers · 2 years ago

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Bonus:

Bugs and textures not loading resulted in brunette Julian last night as I play on my Hatsune Miku file

#revon wtf is this #who sew these clothes for you #I was on a discord voice chat during most of these and had fun lmao #they told me to let Carina beat his ass #it worked #no srsly tho why is the cape jacket thing laced together what the hell

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five-bi-five-mind · 2 years ago

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Carina x Reader.

The Italian shows off her possessive and dominant side when she sees reader talking/flirting with someone at the bar.

Preferably degradation first then with praise, wouldn’t mind strap too(on either!) , marking, spanking, overstimulation and edging 😍🙏🏻

Can You Do That For Me?

Fandom: Station 19

Pairing: Carina DeLuca x fem!reader

Words: 5.4k+

Genre: Smut

Summary: Carina has a possessive side and even if you're oblivious to how jealous you're making her, she's definitely going to teach you a lesson.

Warnings: slight degradation & praise; slight dom/sub dynamics; marking; strap-on use (r receiving); a tiny bit of spanking; oversitulation; jealous/possessive behavior; dumbification; fingering (r receiving); oral (r receiving); edging; kinda rough sex; top!Carina, bottom!r; mirror sex; if I forgot something let me know...

A/N: I might have gone a little soft on some of the things you requested but I hope you like this. This is basically just pure and utter smut oops... also wanna note I only have completed one year of Italian so DeepL was my friend.

It was almost entertaining how clueless you could be. Carina watched from a distance as you chatted up a few people around the bar. She hadn’t even left your side for that long before you were surrounded. The gala she took you to was packed with familiar faces, so she had to go be personable and greet everyone who came. You insisted on getting both of you a drink while she went and talked to people you didn’t really know. To be honest, you were a little uncomfortable at these things. Usually, Carina would keep you clung to her side and even show you off a little bit as her girlfriend. However, this time things were a little bit too busy for her to do that. So, despite Carina’s hesitation, you parted for just a few minutes. Of course, the minute you did the one thing she didn’t want happening happened.

There were people on all sides of you, chatting you up and you returned their predatory smiles with an innocent one of your own. Carina couldn’t blame them, honestly. You were, after all, wearing a tight little dress that she picked out just for you. If she couldn’t stop staring at the way it hugged your curves and accentuated your legs, then it would only make sense that others were doing the same exact thing.

Carina couldn’t help the jealous frown she was wearing when she watched as someone ignored your protests to buy you a drink and put in the order anyways. She rolled her eyes when you took it with an apologetic smile. She could practically hear the excuses you were making, “oh you didn’t have to do that” or “that’s so nice of you” or maybe even “let me buy you the next one.” Of course, that drink you were getting for the both of you was forgotten at this point. You were just too surrounded and busy trying to please the crowd of strangers to figure out a polite way to tear yourself away from them.

You poor thing, she thought. You had absolutely no idea that these people were trying to hit on you. She had tried to get you to understand once before that people who act the way this crowd around you was acting wanted only one thing for you: To have you the way only Carina could have you. Of course, you tried to see the best in people and would never jump to the same (albeit accurate) conclusion that she did. Carina even warned you that the way you were dressed tonight would attract attention. Even if she picked it out for you, she still wanted you to be aware of the reactions it could cause in other people.

Yet, there you were totally oblivious and sipping on a drink that someone else bought you. People were closing in on you a little too much for her liking. She decided she needed to do something to change that soon, but maybe she’d wait it out just a little bit. See if you actually would catch on to what was going on around you.

Only, you really didn’t. You kept laughing innocently at whatever bad joke Carina was sure would make her roll her eyes. If she was being honest, you were being a little too friendly toward them for her liking. At this point, you had to know what you were doing, right? Of course, Carina would still bet that you really didn’t.

What made her finally decide to make her way towards you and the group of flirty people that surrounded you was when one of them decided to be bold enough to actually touch you. It was brief. You barely even noticed it, but Carina did. She thanked her lucky stars that she wasn’t stuck in some smalltalk with another colleague. If she was, then they’d probably see the way her frown grew and the twitch of her eyebrow as she tried to keep her cool.

Carina walked over to you with a mission. Not wanting to give this random person another chance to touch you again. No matter how innocent it may have seemed, Carina knew it was this girl’s way of testing the waters with you. All the people around you had obvious intentions, Carina was sure of it, and that intention was to take you home with them. Carina couldn’t wait to flaunt the fact that she’d, of course, be going home with you on her arm and not theirs. The gala still had a few hours to go before it was over. In reality, you two hadn’t even been there for very long at all, but the more Carina thought about how she could gloat, the more she liked the idea of that happening sooner rather than later. Plus, you were really testing her patiences with all of these people. She had a jealous side and, even if you were oblivious to it, you were really bringing it out of her tonight.

“(Y/N),” Carina’s voice called your name from behind the group of people around you. You popped your head up over one of the taller men that was directly behind you, chatting with you and the group. When you spotted her, Carina’s frown immediately vanished and turned into a dazzling smile. She didn’t want you to catch on to her jealous mood just yet. She pushed her way, not so politely, through the group that was around you until she was standing next to where you sat at the bar. Her hand grazed your thigh and she bit her lip to hide the triumphant smirk that threatened to break free when she saw a couple people notice what she did. “Let’s go home.” Carina’s hands slid into both of yours and when you nodded in agreement she pulled you up off your seat.

With your hand in hers, Carina pulled you out of the gala. When she turned back and smiled, you thought it was just a kind gesture towards yourself. Really, Carina was just grinning at all the jealous faces she saw as she walked out with you in tow.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

When you got home you suspected nothing of Carina’s jealous mood. In fact, you were totally oblivious to her silent stewing as she drove. Yes, she was quite smug that she got to disappoint some people when she walked out of the gala with you, but that didn’t quite get rid of the jealousy that was coursing through you. She couldn’t help it really. You were just so clueless to other people wanting you. It was her job, at least in her mind, to fend off all that unwanted attention you sometimes get, but anytime she did that she would be left with this overwhelming feeling of possessiveness. That feeling would always eat at her until she had the chance to put that energy to good use.

Carina watched you as you walked around the house in that dress of yours like she was a predator and you were her prey. You had no idea she was following close behind as you went to the dresser of your shared bedroom with the intention of getting out of your fancy dress clothes for the night. With your heels off you already felt a little more relaxed from the evening. You started pulling off random parts of your attire. Your necklace, you laid delicately on the dresser top. Then for your earrings, which of course Carina also picked out for you. You paused for a moment, noticing from your view of the mirror that Carina had slipped into the bedroom with you. What you didn’t notice was the look in her eye as she stared you from the door.

As Carina watched you start to reach for the zipper at the back of your dress she decided now was the time to make her move. “Do you like seeing me jealous?” Carina’s voice came up from behind you. “Hm? Do you like playing this little game?”

“Carina, I-“ You looked back at her in the mirror as she approached you, a little taken aback by her sudden mood. The look she was giving you caused a shiver to run up your spine. “I’m not sure what you mean? I wasn’t playing any games.”

“Then why…” She reached you finally, stopping right behind you. Her hands slipped around your body and immediately ran up your chest to practically grope you through your clothes. “Why did you let so many random people hang all over you tonight, if it wasn’t to make me jealous?”

“I didn’t-“

“Shhh,” Carina cooed. “It’s okay, bambina. I know you like to frustrate me. You like the way I touch you after you’ve tempted me, don’t you?” One of Carina’s hands moved up to grab your chin, forcing you to look straight at her from the mirror. “You love playing these games, so that by the end of the night I’ll fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked. Am I right, my love?”

You were honestly speechless, but not because you were shocked by her behavior. No, you knew this was something that Carina liked to do. Get all jealous over other people being near you, only to get to go home and stake her claim on you. No, you were speechless because between the way she was practically manhandling you and the way she was looking at you already had you weak in the knees.

“I’m waiting for an answer, bambina.” She leaned in to whisper in your ear. Her lips grazed the shell of your ear as she spoke and your eyes fluttered closed at the sensation. Carina just smirked at your reaction before dipping down to trail her lips from your jaw to your neck. “You just love all the attention you got tonight, don’t you?” She let go of your chin to move her hands to your arms, running her fingertips up and down them slowly.

“I’m sure you knew how crazy it would make me when one of them touched your arm like this. Am I right?” She pressed her body closer to the back of yours. “Or when they got a little too close to you like this…” Her fingertips stopped to wrap around your wrists. With her grip, she suddenly pulled both your hands forward until she had them pinned flat on the dresser.

“C-Carina, I wasn’t doing that on purpose.” Your brain was really struggling to think of responses for her. The truth is, you really weren’t. You had no idea that you were making her jealous. Yeah, when someone bought you a drink you had an inkling she would not love that you accepted it, but you also didn’t know if she even was paying attention to you while you were at the gala. Something tells you, she saw all of it. Especially with the way her hands squeezed around your wrists and how she was practically forcing you to bend over the dresser with her body.

“It’s a little too late for excuses, mia cara,” Carina whispered before you felt her teeth close down, not so gently, on the most sensitive part of your neck. You let out a gasp at the mildly aggressive way Carina was being with you. No doubt there would be a very visible bite mark on your neck for a few days. It’s going to be interesting to explain that away when you go out in public. “I’m just going to have to remind you…” Carina paused to run her tongue over the fresh bite mark. “...that no one else can have you.”

Carina’s eyes ran down your body from the mirror before meeting yours again and when they did you saw how blown her pupils were. You were in for it tonight, that much was obvious, but you honestly didn’t mind. If anything, it already had you a little wet just from the anticipation.

“Keep your hands there,” she ordered before releasing your wrists. You nodded and looked back down at her hands as they began to push up your dress. She stopped when your dress was pushed up above your waist, completely exposing your panties. Embarrassingly enough, they already had a wet patch from how worked up you’ve gotten by Carina’s behavior. It did not go unnoticed by her.

With one finger, she ran the tip of it down your panties and between your folds through the fabric. “I knew you enjoyed seeing me jealous,” She tsked as she repeated her action. Your head hung low as Carina put pressure onto your clit through your panties from just her finger. Her cockiness at already getting you so desperate for her was going straight to her head. Her fingertips played with the elastic to your panties and she looked back up at you. “Look at me, principessa.”

You willed your head to look up and again met her eyes through the mirror. She gave you a wide grin, proud of how obedient you were already being for her. “I want you to look at yourself when I touch you. Know that tonight is the result of your actions.” With that, Carina slipped her fingers into your panties and immediately began circling your clit. Your hips jumped at the direct contact she was making, but soon you were pressing yourself into her touch.

Small sighs of pleasure left your lips and Carina was soaking in every little reaction she pulled from you. When she moved her fingers lower and traced your entrance with her fingertips, she could feel the anticipation practically radiating off you. Her fingers slid in with ease and once they did, she looked up to see that you were still doing exactly what you were told.

With a steady pace, she started to pump her fingers in and out of you. Your wetness from all of her actions had already completely ruined your panties, but honestly with the way she was touching you, you didn’t really care.

Your fingers curled against the dresser, trying your best to grip at it, while also keeping them right where Carina told you to. Her fingers kept moving in and out of you and you could already feel your legs beginning to shake. Carina pressed herself into you more until you were almost completely bent over the dresser, with your head barely able to stay up to keep focused on the mirror.

Carina leaned herself fully over you, her free hand going to your hair to push it out of the way of your neck before she reattached her lips to the skin there. There was definitely going to be more than one mark now, but that was what Carina loved to do. After nights like this, where she was in a particularly possessive mood, you’d always be left covered in little reminders of what she would do to you. You weren’t complaining much, you just didn’t love the process of covering them.

When Carina started to feel the telltale signs of your orgasm approaching, she had a wicked idea. Without warning, she pulled out and backed away. It took you barely even two seconds to start whining about the loss of contact. You were so close. “Strip and get on the bed,” Carina ordered. “I want to taste you.”

She stood back and watched, biting back a smirk at the pout you were currently wearing. You still did as you were told almost immediately though, removing your dress and your now ruined panties while still on shaky legs. With a shy look towards her, you walked over to the bed and crawled onto it.

“Lay down, bambina,” Carina said as she stalked towards you. “And spread your legs. I want you open for me.”

Immediately, Carina could see the blush on your face. “O-okay,” you mumbled as you did exactly what you were told. God, Carina loved the way you instantly listened to her every command tonight. It made her feel that much more smug that she went home with you on her arm and not any of those other people. You were just so deliciously eager and ready to please.

When Carina knelt between your legs, you watched with awe at the look of desire in her eyes. The need to claim you was so intense in Carina, that even you could feel it. Her hands went to your knees, spreading your legs open even farther. She watched as your thighs glistened from the wetness that dripped down them while she had her fingers inside you. Her mouth watered in anticipation of what she was about to do. She couldn’t wait to taste you, so she didn’t.

Your head fell back on the pillow the instant Carina’s tongue made contact with your pussy. She took one long, slow lick up your folds before wrapping her lips around your clit. Your eyes squeezed shut and both your hands flew to her hair as she sucked on your clit like her life depended on it. You couldn’t help the way your legs shook and squirmed at the intensity of the feeling.

Carina’s lips finally detached from your clit, but her tongue began to trace circles around it. With her tongue still brushing over your clit, she glanced up at you. As much as she loved seeing you totally out of control of your reactions, she wanted to make it hard for you.

“No, no, no.” Carina pulled back from between your legs. You whined and leaned your head back up, your eyes pleading with Carina to keep going. “I want you to look at me while I touch you. Understand?”

You nodded desperately, just eager for her to restart what she was doing with her tongue. Carina dipped her head back down and began lapping at your clit again. Her hands slipped from where they held your legs open to move under your ass. With her grip on you, she encouraged you to move your hips with the rhythm of her tongue, squeezing you when you caught on and obliged.

Carina looked up at you again from where she was between your legs and the sight itself had you close to the edge. You forgot already what you were told and your head started to lean back the moment she took your clit into her mouth again. Carina was quickly bringing you to the edge with just her tongue and the way your hips kept moving against her mouth was making everything overwhelming in the best way. But then it all stopped way too soon. She noticed that your head had dipped back down onto the pillow and her mouth left your clit. You let out another pathetic whine and looked back down at her.

“What did I say, bambina?” She scolded, leaning away from you. “Can you not do this one simple thing? Is it really too hard for you?”

“I- I can,” You pleaded. “Just keep touching me. Carina, I was so close.”

“You only get to cum if you do what you’re told.” Her tone was stern, but you knew she was absolutely loving the way you were responding to her.

“I’ll be good,” you reassured. “I’ll do what I’m told.”

Carina was satisfied enough with that answer and to your relief, her head dipped down again. This time, though, one of her hands left your ass and you felt her fingertips again circle your entrance before sliding in. You groaned and felt your back arch off the mattress at the feeling of her tongue on your clit and her fingers fucking into you, but you never looked away. You kept your eyes glued to the way Carina’s head moved as she sucked on your clit. The way her fingers curled inside you already had your body quivering around her. She was fucking you like her life depended on it and you were already so close twice already, so now it really wasn’t going to take long.

Carina let go of your clit with a pop. “Do you want to cum, bambina?” she asked.

You nodded your head fervently. “Use your words,” she ordered, her fingers curling and hitting the spot she knew you loved before you had a chance to respond.

A moan escaped your lips and your hands tightened in her hair. It took you a moment, but finally you regained some control. “Yes,” your voice was hoarse as you spoke. “Please, I want to cum.”

“Good girl,” Carina mused before pumping her fingers into you even faster. At this point it was incredibly hard for you to keep your eyes on her, but you still managed. Even with your thighs shaking around her head and your body moving in a messier rhythm with your orgasm fast approaching, you still wanted to be obedient for her. “Cum for me, mia cara.” And after two more strong pumps of her fingers, you were suddenly falling apart around her.

Carina pulled back from between your thighs, but kept her fingers inside you. She enjoyed the way she could feel your walls tighten and convulse around her and got lost for a moment in the way you looked coming down from your high. But she only allowed herself to enjoy that for a brief minute. She had more plans for you tonight, and she still hadn’t quite worked through the jealous mood you put her in.

After another moment she pulled her fingers out of you and your body shuddered at the loss of contact. You finally let your head fall back onto the pillow and closed your eyes, trying to catch your breath from how good she just made you feel. Your recovery from essentially being edged until you could cum took all your focus. So much so, that you didn’t notice Carina leave the bed for a moment until she returned and grabbed your legs again.

Yet again, she moved you so that you were open for her. Your head popped up in curiosity to see what she was doing. Honestly, you had a feeling it wouldn’t just stop at one, but you still wanted the chance to take a breath before Carina subjected you to whatever she had planned next. What you didn’t expect was her fully nude with a new, bigger than you were used to, strap-on to be hanging between her legs.

“Carina, that might be too big.”

“It’s okay, bambina,” Carina cooed. “We’ll take it slow.”

You gulped, but with the hopeful look Carina was giving you, you wanted to do your best to please her. So, with some hesitation, you agreed, trusting Carina to take care not to hurt you.

“I need you to relax for me,” Carina said as she moved to crawl over your body. “Can you do that for me?”

You nodded again, opening your legs more for Carina to have room. Your eyes were glued between Carina’s legs. It wasn’t the biggest strap-on you’ve ever seen, but it definitely was still something you were new to in general. Usually, Carina preferred to use her fingers so she could feel you as you came for her, so to use toys was somewhat rare. But then again, you knew Carina was in a mood to really see you fall apart beneath her, and you were sure when she started to fuck you with that, you would instantly become a mess beneath her.

Carina lined the toy up to your entrance, her eyes locked on your face to watch for any signs to stop. You showed none and she started to push in. She took it slow, just like she said she would. Your body tried to relax so you could take in more of the toy and eventually, she bottomed out inside you. You were tight, that much was obvious, but even so you immediately felt the pleasure of being filled more so than you were used to.

Your body trembled slightly underneath Carina, but seeing the way you were taking her so well broke something inside her. Without much warning, Carina pulled out of you almost completely, before snapping her hips back into you. You cried out at the sudden change in pace, but it wasn’t a bad thing. Your hands went straight to Carina’s hips, holding her there as she pressed her hips harder into yours, trying to bury herself deeper inside you. After a moment, Carina did the same exact thing again, drawing a loud groan out of you. She was mesmerized by your reactions. Once she thought you were pretty used to the feeling of this new toy, she set a steady pace, moving her faux cock in and out of you. Her lips attached themselves to either of your nipples as she went, switching off between the two. When she wasn’t toying with them with her teeth, she was leaving marks all over your chest, alternating between hickeys and bite marks. You weren’t even trying to muffle any of the sounds she was causing you to make. The sounds of your moans plus skin against skin as she fucked you filled the entire apartment.

Carina sat up without warning, her hands grabbing your hips and pulling your legs to hook around her own waist so she could fuck you deeper. Your eyes rolled back and your hands flew to grab a fist full of your sheets. She was keeping her pace, but the way the toy hit you deeper than you were used to had your head swimming. You could feel Carina’s nails dig into your skin, no doubt leaving more marks on you, as she held you at an angle to keep fucking into you deeper.

Again, she was pushing you towards that edge, only this time you both knew you were too far gone to ask to cum. Luckily, Carina accepted this happily if it meant that she could see you so fucked out for her. She sped up a little, making you move your hips into hers with her grip on you as she kept going. Your body was shaking again and you were reaching your peak once more. You could only hope that Carina would let you cum immediately this time rather than draw it out.

Thankfully, she did. As she kept going, it finally became too much and you came undone all over her strap. She didn’t even give you a minute to come down from your orgasm. Before you even really knew what was happening, Carina slid the toy out of you and flipped your body on the bed.

“On all fours,” She ordered.

“Carina, I don’t think I can-”

“One more, bambina,” Carina pleaded, already moving your own knees so that you could be positioned the way she wanted. “Please?”

You just nodded and tried your best to get in the position she asked for, your body still shaking from your last orgasm. Soon, you felt Carina’s hand come down on your ass and your body jumped. She grabbed at your ass for a second before moving herself to yet again position the strap to circle your entrance.

“Bellissima,” Carina practically growled, her hand coming down on your ass one more time. You just whimpered, already eager for what was in store, even if you were feeling a little spent. Finally, Carina entered you again and your head hung down as she immediately started fucking you with a strength you weren’t exactly used to when it came to her.

When she said she was jealous tonight, she was incredibly jealous and that much was clear in the way she was laying claim to you. Her intentions were to completely ruin you tonight and she was doing an excellent job at it. You weren’t the only one lost in the way she was fucking you. The sounds you were making and the way your body shook beneath her had her absolutely floored. If she could, she’d fuck you all night long. Maybe you’d be too spent for that, but she was at least going to try.

Her hips pounded against the backs of your thighs with a force that had your hands slipping from where they propped you up on the bed. You were moaning and whining her name as she kept fucking into your pussy from behind. The whole time Carina was moaning out things in Italian that you could only assume would translate into something filthy. It was embarrassingly quick how close you were to coming already, but Carina was fucking you with a ferocity that had you dizzy and all you could do was moan and struggle to stay in the position she had you in.

With a few more snaps of her hips and another couple slaps of your ass as she fucked you, you were coming on her cock yet again. You let out a pathetic whine that echoed through the room as you came and the way your arms were holding your body up failed you. Your face hit the pillow and you panted into it, your ass only in the air by Carina’s hold on your hips. Carina didn’t pull out though, instead she slowed for just a second before starting her pace again.

“I-I can’t,” you whined. “Not again.”

“Yes, you can, mia cara,” Carina grunted as she kept fucking her strap into you. “Please, please give me one more.”

You whined as her hips continued to push into your own from behind, but still you nodded. Despite already feeling spent and sensitive, you still wanted to please and the way she was practically begging you to let her keep fucking you had you ready to do just about anything.

With the nod of your head Carina went even faster. Your face pressed into the pillow and you felt a tear fall from your cheek at the overwhelming sensation of her still fucking your already overly sensitive pussy. The feeling of it all was almost too much and your body hadn’t stopped shaking from the last orgasm. Your hands were grabbing at the sheets and your cries as her cock hit deeper inside you were muffled by the pillow. Carina had a firm grip on you and it was as if she wasn’t tired at all with the sheer consistency and power behind each pump of her hips.

Your eyes squeezed shut as Carina put even more force into the way she was fucking into you. Your walls were yet again quickly tightening around her cock, but she loved the way she could tell you were close to coming again. She also loved the way you were so quick to agree and let her push your limits, even if just a little bit.

Your thighs burned from the way Carina had them spread and from how long they shook from each orgasm she drew from you. All your muscles felt more sore with each orgasm as well and now, as she fucked you into yet another one that was fast approaching, you were well aware of your every nerve. Another tear fell down your cheek at the almost painful pleasure you were in and your hands trembled as you were seconds away from your orgasm.

Carina put all her strength into fucking your pussy and after just a little more, you let go again, coming harder than you probably have before. Finally, finally after just a minute, Carina pulled out.

She let go of your hips too and the rest of your body instantly collapsed onto the bed. Your chest heaved and you turned your head on the pillow for more air. Carina stayed knelt over you for just a moment, taking in the way you looked beneath her. Honestly, you were never more beautiful than you were in this moment, naked and spent on her bed. Covered in her marks, with your thighs glistening with your own cum. She loved when she got to see you like this.

After a moment, Carina moved so that she could lay next to you on the bed. Her arms wrapped around your still, slightly trembling body. Your breathing steady as she held you in her strong arms. It amazed you that she seemed totally fine and not tired at all. Especially when she was fucking you with all her strength behind it. Either way, you enjoyed this soft shift in her and nuzzled closer into her chest.

“You did so good for me, bambina,” Carina praised. “But now, let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”

You hummed an agreement into her chest before she got out of bed and slowly pulled you with her. As you let her lead you to the shower, your legs still weak from all that transpired, you couldn’t help but think you should get her jealous more often.

A/N: once again I feel like I want to emotionally wreck Carina so… send your best angst requests…

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