#in this tag resides fanfiction

[pencil-n-pen]

Princess ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

⊹‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

leon kennedy x fem!reader

Summary: Being an independent woman and a full time student is all fun and games until final’s season. Luckily, your not-quite academic rival Leon Kennedy is there to pick you up when you fall.

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cw: Female pronouns and description used for reader but nothing detailed (no skin color, eye color, hair type, body type, etc.) This is basically just an x reader for my independent eldest daughters who do nothing but their absolute best all the time everyday and deep down want a hot guy with beefy arms to let them relax for a minute. So i guess expect the related issues that come with being an eldest daughter?

Tags/tropes: hurt/comfort, dom! leon if you squint, leon’s very touchy, leon being a gentleman!! probably ooc, i kinda struggled finding his voice :/

wc: 3.3k

a/n: wowee so i’m not rlly looking to be a full time author or anything but i could NOT get this idea out of my head and i figured i could give back to the tumblr fic community <3 here’s to everyone who wants hurt/comfort without smut, incest, or a needlessly specific reader! hope everyone’s recovering well from finals!

— ‎ ‧₊˚ 𓂃౨ৎ

The first time it happened, it honestly, truly, was an accident. A mistake, if you will. You would never willingly fall asleep on a random guy at a party. That is all kinds of bad for a number of reasons.

However. There were some… extenuating circumstances.

Finals. They’re a make-or-break for the first semester. Mostly just a break. In the sense that you contemplated how upset your parents would be at you if you dropped out and if the subsequent disowning would be worth it.

You did finals the same way you did everything. You worked. Studied. Borderline obsessed over it. Romanticized it so you could push through when the other’s resolve started dropping. Stayed home. Your friends bemoaned your “no-fun attitude” but they’re crying over their grades and you’re not, so.

Well. Actually you’re definitely crying over your grades, almost every day in fact. But not because they’re bad. Just because you’re tired. Really tired. The kind of tired that makes people have public breakdowns. But you can’t afford to have a public breakdown because you have to succeed at college and you have to work in order to stay on top of your bills and be able to send some money home to your family and make sure you have time to call your parents and make time for your sister to call you and vent because you didn’t have a you at her age and you wish you did so you have to be there for her and your friends need you to be there for them not to mention planning for how you’re going to use your degree after you graduate and—

Most of the time you try not to think about it.

So finals were over. And everyone wanted to celebrate. And you did, you promise. You’re totally the party girl type. Totally. (Maybe if you say it enough times it’ll come true?)

You don’t hate parties. You like dressing up and going out. It’s fun! It’s just… not your idea of an unwind. Not after you nearly ran yourself into the ground for a month straight for the sake of academic validation. You’d prefer to sleep for 72 hours straight. And maybe watch a movie at home in the sweatshirt you cried over your textbooks in. Maybe over a glass of wine? You’re not really sure. Relaxing never really goes well for you. It’s either depression-bed-rotting or full productivity.

Needless to say, you weren’t exactly thrilled to find yourself at this party. You’re not really sure how your friends convinced you.

But you’re here, in makeup and an outfit you like (you’re thankful this isn’t one of the ‘put on a tight dress and dance’ parties) and you just honestly want to go to bed. It’s a house party, so it’s not nearly as crazy as some of the other parties you’ve been (read: dragged) to, but still.

You’re on the couch, ignoring the smell of alcohol in the air and pretending the pounding baseline of the music coming from the speaker in the kitchen isn’t starting to give you a headache.

Ada Wong, a girl you’ve hesitantly dubbed your party friend, is sitting on your left, while the guy you can never quite tell what he is to her, is sitting on your right.

Leon Kennedy.

On a good day, Leon Kennedy is a smart, brooding, annoyingly capable guy who you share some of your classes with. On a bad day, he’s the bane of your existence. On a really bad day, you fantasize about all the ways you could kill him and turn the experience into a really good term paper.

It’s complicated. You’re smart. He’s smart. You tend to clash because neither of you like backing down from a challenge.

But right now, in this moment, at this party, the only thing you can think about is how fucking tired you are and how warm he is.

The music is so loud it drowns everything out in your brain. The few thoughts that make it through the overwhelm of sound are fuzzy and staticky. The cling and slip around in your head like syrup. The worst parts about parties are, funnily enough, working to cancel out the main reason you can’t fall asleep in your own bed at night: overthinking.

That and the fact that you haven’t sleep in forty-eight hours. An energy drink and an iced coffee count as a full nights sleep, right? You’re sure the heart palpitations are normal.

You manage to keep up with the steady flow of the group conversation, but as the night wears on, talking becomes harder and harder and just plain processing the words being said slowly turns into an impossible task. At some point, someone else squeezed onto the couch— you think it might be Chris? Ada did say he was coming late— so now you’re pressed against the one and only Leon Kennedy, and he’s radiating heat like a furnace.

Like you, he opted for a slightly more casual approach to the house party. Of course, he’s a guy, so his wardrobe was probably never that big, but still. It’s nice to see someone else in a sweatshirt and jeans.

You at least put on your favorite jeans! You call them your hot jeans, for self explanatory reasons. So what if you’re wearing an oversized sweatshirt? It’s cold!

You jolt in place, not realizing your eyes had slipped close and the conversation had continued on without you. Something prickles in the back of your head. An instinctual sort of thing.

Don’t fall asleep in public places.

Don’t fall asleep at someone’s house you don’t know.

You know the owner of the house, you think. You’ve been here once or twice. But you don’t know everyone at the party and where your friends have gone because they’re not in the group talking here and you should probably stand up soon, to wake yourself up, don’t let your friends down, don’t be that girl who falls asleep at the party, don’t—

You jolt again.

Wake up. You tell yourself. Leon’s looking at you out of the corner of his eye, but you ignore it.

It feels like a record skip. You’ll blink, and the conversation isn’t the same as when you first closed your eyes. The song isn’t the same. Were the lights always this bright?

“Whew!” Ada whistles from above. When did she stand up? “Someone’s got final’s exhaustion written all over their face!”

The group laughs and you do too, but it sounds different. Leon doesn’t. Why isn’t he laughing?

You jolt again. Harder this one. A full body shake. You wince as your knee knocks into Leon’s.

“Sorr—“

“Stop that.” He grumbles, and oh. A warm, solid hand snakes around your waist and pulls you closer. Closed to that warm, stupidly comfortable side.

This is wrong. It’s Leon. It’s Leon. You can’t. And this is a party, and your friends are here—

“Stop being stupid,” You can feel his chest rumble from where your cheek is pressed flush against it, and when did that happen? He picks up your left arm and drapes it across his stomach, then picks up your right arm and wraps it around his lower pack. “Squeeze.”

You listen, and wow. Who has time to go to the gym this much and be an academic rival? You feel like you’re slacking. Maybe you need to make time to get some—

“I can hear you thinking,” He says, voice deep and rumbly. It’s honestly a miracle you can hear him over the music. It’s probably because your face is pressed against his chest. If you strain, you can feel the dull thud of his heart.

“You have a heart?” You say, half-delirious with exhaustion. It comes out more as a question than a statement

“Mhm,” He rumbles. “I am in possession of one. Great observation princess.”

You frown into his chest. “Why are you always so mean? You call me that stupid name. I’m not a princess.”

“I’m not mean. Whoever said princess was a mean nickname? You decided that on your own.”

“Then how come you call me that?”

“Because,” He huffs, repositioning to a more slouched position that’s more comfortable for your neck. The arm tightens around your waist.

It’s nice. It’s possessive. Protective. No one’s ever really done that for you before. Usually it’s you doing the protecting.

You don’t want to relax. You can’t. You can’t.

“Because,” He continues, “Princesses need to be taken care of. Especially smart, stubborn princesses who never pause for one second. Not even when they should.”

You should get up. Apologize for how weird you’re being. Have another coffee or energy drink. Join the party. Do something that isn’t this.

“Go to sleep,” He says, his voice like a warm blanket settling and slipping into your mind. “Nothing‘s going to happen to you while I’m here. No one is going to be mad at you for sleeping. And if they are, I’ll kick their ass. Go to sleep.”

It’s easy to give in after that.

You sag, boneless. Like a puppet with it’s strings cut. You inhale deeply, breathing in the deep, rich scent that’s distinctly Leon.

Just for a few minutes. Because Leon’s watching. He won’t let something happen to you. Just for a few minutes. You’ll get up soon. You will.

He tucks you closer to him. “Sleep.”

You’re out like a light.

—

“No way, she’s actually asleep?”

“Holy shit Leon, did you drug her?”

“I did not.”

“Well, thanks, for whatever weird magic-spell you cast. Seriously. We’re all starting to get worried about her. She doesn’t take any breaks and she doesn’t let anyone help. Last week a librarian found her asleep on the printer. Fully standing.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m going to start inviting you to our apartment if it means she’ll actually get some fucking sleep. It’s unsettling finding her in the same position as when I left like, six hours beforehand.”

“Don’t worry. She’s in good hands.”

—

It’s horrific, running into him in the library.

What makes it more horrible is the fact that you’re ugly crying silently in the English textbook section, because it’s always empty. You’re ugly crying in the English textbook section of the university library and Leon Kennedy just walked into the aisle.

You sniff, lifting your head from your knees to stare up at him from the ground. He has a knack for finding you at your lowest, it would seem.

“We’ve got to stop seeing each other like this, princess.”

“Oh?” You sniff hard, running a hand across your face as if that will clear up your red rimmed, puffy eyes, the tear tracks on your face, or the flush on your nose. The action at least wipes away the snot. “I wasn’t aware you ever fell asleep on me at a party. Did I ever find you crying in the English textbook section of the library?”

He tilts his head. “Why the English textbook section? It’s one of your best subjects.”

“It’s the emptiest section. Plus, anyone looking for an English textbook at this hour isn’t going to bat an eye at me.” You wrap your arms around your legs and hug them to your chest. “What are you doing here?”

“One of your roommates called Ada. They said you haven’t been home since this morning. They thought you might’ve been at hers, or with me.”

You snort. “It’s like they don’t even know me.”

He rolls his eyes. “I think they were hoping you’d be there. I think anyone who knows you knew you’d be here.”

“Crying in the English section?”

“In the library, dumbass.”

He stalks forward, leaning back against the bookshelf across from you and sliding his hands into his sweatpants pockets.

“Tell me. Is your pathological avoidance to asking for help conscious or not?”

You kick out, one shoed foot catching him in the shins. “Dick.”

He shrugs. “Just want to know. I can’t exactly gloat over scoring two points above you if you’re not in top form. I want a fair fight.”

“Is that what you're here for?” You ask suddenly, everything in your body going rigid. “You think this is funny?”

“No,” He says calmly. “I’m here because you’re being stupid again. You know what’s not healthy, or smart?”

He gestures to you. You, sitting on the floor, tears drying on your face. “This. Going out to parties to make your friends happy when you should be at home, sleeping. Studying for so long you end up looking like your boyfriend of eight years just broke up with you. Come on, princess. Where’s those brains you brag about?”

“They’re up here,” You tap your forehead. Against your will, your eyes burn, tears welling up, your face tightening. “And they’re tired.”

You drop your head into your hands, forgoing your silent crying of earlier in the place of open mouth sobbing. You can’t help it. You’re just so tired. So done with it all. With trying to keep up, with trying to make space, with trying to make time. With doing your best and it not being enough. You’re tired of being tired.

“Annnd there it is. Come here.”

He lowers himself to the floor next to you, tucking you close in a similar fashion as that night at the party.

“Come on, same thing as before. Hold onto me. Give yourself a minute.”

You wrap your arms around his middle, same way as last time, burying your face into his shoulder. Someone could see. Someone you know might see you crying and think—

He reaches a hand up and pulls the hood of your sweatshirt over your head.

“There. Now no one can see your face. Stop worrying. Just cry, princess.”

You sniffle. “I’m getting snot on your sweatshirt.”

“It’s had worse on it.”

“Gross.”

You can practically feel the eye roll. “Can you stop being dirty-minded and focus on something productive? Like crying? Or not crying, if that would make you feel better.”

You shift, so your head is lying against his shoulder instead of smashed into it like before.

“Why do you care if I feel better?”

Why do you care?

He shrugs against you.

“Told you,” He pushes your hood back a bit, tapping you on the forehead with his pointer finger. “My competition’s no fun if she’s not taking care of herself. How else is she gonna kick my ass?”

“I can take care of myself just fine. I don’t need you to swoop in here, Leon.”

“Mhm,” He says. “And i’m sure you do great at it, considering you’re still alive and kicking my ass at those stupid socratic seminars. Consider this… self-care. In the face mask, getting your nails done way.”

“Who taught you self care?”

“Ada. We have face mask nights.”

You jolt up. “Is she—“

“She’s not my girlfriend, we’re not fucking, no she’s not going to be upset or care in any way about this. Calm down.”

You begrudgingly settle back against him.

“If anything,” He continues. “She’ll be excited to see you at more parties in the coming months.”

You frown. “I never said—“

“You only go to parties if your friends physically drag you or when you feel confident enough in your grades and the general state of your life. It’s really easy to tell which version of you shows up to the party. It’s the way you dress.”

“How so?”

He shifts slightly. Guilt twinges in your stomach as you realize how uncomfortable he must be.

“You wear your pick-me-up pants when you’re dragged there. The ones that make your ass look great.”

You sit up with a gasp. “My hot pants?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that what you call them?”

Your brain catches up to the rest of what he said. “Hold on. Did you just say—“

“I said what I said. I’m assuming there’s a reason you call them your hot pants.”

He smirks, and you flush.

“Moving onto more pressing matters,” He tilts his head at you. “You have two options this evening. Either I take you back to your place and you sleep in your own bed, or you come to my place and we binge watch the Oceans movies until you fall asleep.”

“How did you know I like the—“

“The icebreaker for club thing. You said they were your favorite movies.”

You look up at him. “You remembered?”

“You were wearing your hot jeans.”

“You’re the worst.”

He scans your face for a moment, eyes sparking with mirth and a little something less innocent. “Maybe.”

You sigh and lean back against him, exhaustion from all your crying hitting you at once.

“Nuh-uh, no sleeping here. You gotta pick one. My place or yours?”

You frown into his shoulder. “Ugh. Fine. Yours, but only because I wanna watch the Ocean’s movies. You better not have a disgusting frat house.”

“I do not. I do have popcorn and ice cream.”

“Ada bought those, didn’t she?”

“Nope,” He says, nudging you with his shoulder to stand. You clamber in gracefully to your feet, your head starting to pound. “Chris likes to have movie nights. It pays to be well stocked.”

Your cheeks warm as a large, steadying hand finds its way to the small of your back. “How many of my friends are you friends with?”

“I was friends with them first.”

“Ass.”

He chuckles incredulously. “For having friends?”

“Yes,” You say, letting him pull you to his side while you walk to your table where you left your stuff. Probably not the best idea to leave your entire net-worth unattended, but whatever. You were going through it. “How dare you.”

“Mmm. I see. My apologies, princess. I’ll tell Chris and Ada.”

“You get on that.”

You can’t help but smile as he helps you pack up your things, passing you items across the table and carefully zipping up your pencil case.

“Don’t touch my papers, I have a system.”

“Is the system absolute chaos?”

“Shut up.”

Once everything is packed up, you zip up your backpack, but before you can sling it on, Leon’s arm darts out and snags it right out from under you.

Your expression grows pinched. “I can carry my own bag, Leon.”

“I know you can.”

“Give me my bag.”

“No.”

You groan. “Why do you want to carry my bag?”

“See, there’s this thing called chivalry—“

“Oh my god, shut up. When have you and chivalry ever been synonymous?”

He shrugs. “Ever since I met the girl in the hot jeans who regularly kicks my ass academically.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Mmm,” He hums, wrapping an arm around your waist and walking you towards the doors to the library. “And you’re stubborn. Come on. Brad Pitt and George Clooney are waiting for you.”

You sigh dramatically, hiding a small smile in your hand.

Maybe you could get used to this.

masterlist | next part

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

[lipglossanon]

Red Flags and Long Nights

Real Dad!Leon S. Kennedy x daughter fem!reader (one shot)

hello hello 👋 this is the fic written for the milestone celebration poll winner (real dad taking accidental viagra); big big thanks to all of you who have gotten me here!! 💜 💜 I’m so thankful everyday that you guys choose to read/like/share/interact with my fics and just me in general! 🥰 so without further ado, I hope you enjoy this one shot!!!

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, INCEST, dead dove content, dad/daughter incest, groping, slight cnc, dirty talk, breast play, oral (m receiving), kissing, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie

not proofread 😅 some of it was written while sleepy so hopefully it makes sense haha

title from Red Flags and Long Nights from She Wants Revenge

<<prequel: Oh By Gosh, By Golly>>

One day, your mom calls you up out of the blue wanting to talk about planning a family vacation this year. Somewhere with sandy beaches and clear blue water. Something over an extended weekend once everyone can take off work. She’s already talked it over with your dad and he’s agreeable as long as it doesn’t cost an arm and a leg. 

As she talks, you pull open your calendar and look over your work schedule. Once you find a date that works, she promises to text you the details of the Air B&B she plans to book. You bid her goodbye and hang up the phone, quietly excited about a beach trip even if it is with your parents. 

You keep busy as you slowly count down the days; long graduated from college but still struggling to find work in your major, you’ve had to settle for any job opportunity that will pay the bills. Luckily enough, you were hired to work at the local post office. It’s not a glamorous job by any means, but you do get federal holidays off and your boss is pretty lenient with you. It’s a cinch to put in your PTO for the extended weekend you plan to spend with your parents. 

The morning you drive down to the beach house is pleasant; it’s early enough you miss out on a bunch of traffic which helps you save enough time to splurge a little and grab some coffee. Following the GPS, you get to the beach house in the afternoon with plenty of sunshine left to enjoy. Your parent’s car is already parked outside so you don’t have to worry about figuring out how to unlock the joint.

You grab your small suitcase and make your way into the lovely three story home. As you walk up the gravel sidewalk, you take in how secluded the area truly is and how lucky your mom was in getting such a nice place. You’re pretty sure it cost out the ass, but hey who’re you to deny such generosity?

The door swings open before you touch the handle and your mom pulls you into a hug. 

“Oh honey, I’m so happy you could make it!”

Breathing in the perfume embedded into your brain from childhood, you give her a quick squeeze back before pulling away. 

“Me too,” you smile, “this place is amazing!”

She laughs and moves further into the house, looking back as you follow along behind after closing the door. 

“A friend of a friend owns this place so it was pretty easy to get. Even your father can’t throw one of his little hissy fits about the cost,” she rolls her eyes and you breathe out a laugh. 

“Where is he?” You look around but only see the open kitchen leading off into the dining room. 

“Down at the beach,” she points to the sliding glass doors on the other side of the living room, “I told him I wanted to stay up here for when you arrived.”

You nod and smile at her again, “Thanks, I appreciate it. I’m gonna go put my stuff up and change then we can head down ourselves.”

She nods, “There’s a handful of bedrooms on the second and third floor. Your dad and I are staying in the master down here so you have your choice of rooms.”

“Nice, be back in a sec,” grabbing your luggage, you climb the stairs to scout out where you want to sleep. 

You pick a cute room on the third floor; it has a little balcony with a couple of chairs that gives you a fantastic view for miles around. You toss your clothes into the dresser and quickly change into your swimsuit. Grabbing a towel and some sunscreen, you slide on your sandals and make your way back downstairs. Your mom, wearing a big floppy hat, is already standing outside the sliding doors. 

You chatter with each other, just catching up on your day to day, while you both make your way down the little path that leads out onto the beach. As soon as your sandals hit the sand, you see a huge beach umbrella. 

“Glad to know he won’t burn,” your mom laughs, toeing off her own sandals to walk barefoot over to your dad. 

Following her lead, you take off your sandals and carry them over to the blanket underneath the shade of the umbrella. 

“‘Bout time,” a groggy baritone meets your ears. 

“Shush, Leon, it didn’t kill you to nap on the beach now did it?”

Your dad just mumbles a reply to your mom before raising up. He squints over at you, eyes heavy lidded from sleep as you set your stuff down. 

“The drive okay?”

You laugh and finally look over at him, “It was fine.”

His blue eyes sharpen as they read your expression before darting down to give you a once over. Your nipples tighten against your will and his gaze seems to linger there for a split second before flicking back up to your face. Plastering on a fake smile, you sit down and grab your sunscreen. 

“Want some help with that?” Your dad nods to the little bottle in your hands. 

“S-sure.”

You kinda hope the ground splits open to swallow you whole, but instead you just move over to where your dad is sitting up on the blanket, hand outstretched to grab the sunscreen. 

“Well while you two do that, I’m going to go take a dip,” your mom beams at you, completely leaving you alone to wallow in this newfound awkwardness. 

Keeping your back to your dad, you feel his broad calloused palms drag the slick lotion all over your back and shoulders, deftly massaging it in. For the last few years, there’s been a line of tension between you and Leon. An accidental kiss under the mistletoe where you both used too much tongue to be appropriate (any tongue isn’t appropriate but you’re blaming the alcohol everyone had been drinking).  

Since then, you’ve both watched the other. Glances too heated to be innocent, brushing against each other unnecessarily… and now with his sun warmed hands rubbing across your back, your brain empties as your body buzzes with arousal.

It’s why it takes a second for you to realize that your dad has moved on to rubbing in the sunblock across your ribs and over your clavicle. His hands come up and cup your breasts, stiff nipples showing through the fabric. 

“Gotta make sure to get everywhere,” his breath gusts past your ear as his hands slip under your top and massages the fat of your breasts. 

“Ohh,” you whimper quietly, cunt pulsing warmly in time with your heartbeat.  

He squeezes and rubs across your soft skin, fingers plucking at your stiff peaks until you moan brokenly. 

“Dad,” your breathy exaltation has him pinching and twisting your nipples before groping your breasts roughly in his hands. 

“‘M almost done,” he licks the shell of your ear and your thighs twitch, “you’ve got such nice tits, princess. Don’t want’em to burn.”

You press your hand over your mouth to muffle the whine you let slip. With one last harsh pinch to your nipples, he lets go, scooting back away from you. 

“Should be good to go,” he grins at your dazed look, “don’t keep your mom waiting.”

Shaking your head, you blink rapidly and slowly climb to your feet. As you pass by Leon, his hand reaches up and smacks your ass hard. 

“Be a good girl, okay?”

“Y-yeah, dad.”

You pad out to the ocean, waving to your mom as she looks for seashells in the shallow water. Wading out far enough for water to hit your chest, you finally let yourself sigh out loud. 

“What in the fuck?!”

You rub wet hands over your face as you gaze out onto the horizon. Flirting is one thing, but getting felt up by your dad is definitely crossing the line. You shiver, clit still throbbing as you reach down to press your palm against your cunt. Even as messed up as it may make you, you wish he would’ve slipped his hand down and fingered your pussy. 

The sun glaring off the water makes you squint even as you enjoy the scenery, trying your best to squish all the other thoughts and feelings you’ve had in the past half hour down into a little box you can open later. It works for a time, until the squinting becomes too much and the glare is driving sharp little needles into your brain. 

Leaving the water, you make your way over to your mom as she scoops up more shells with a net. 

“I’m gonna head in, got a bit of a headache,” you wince as the sun bounces off her watch into your eyes. 

“Let me walk with you,” she frowns, “you’re looking a little washed out.”

You nod and follow her back up to the beach blanket, eyes skirting over where your dad’s lounging reading a book. 

“We’re headed up to the house, do you need anything?”

Your mom grabs her bag and your stuff as your dad sets his book down onto his lap. He looks at you then back to his wife. 

“No, once I finish this, I’ll be heading up, too.”

She hums and takes you by the arm, helping guide you back to the house since the pain beats a tempo behind your eyes and makes your vision a little blurry. Once in the house, she helps you upstairs to your room. In doing so, she makes sure to stop in at the bathroom on the bottom floor to point out the migraine medicine in the cabinet.

Entering your room, she sits you down on your bed. She tucks you in and makes sure to close the blinds before walking back into the hallway. Turning, she gives you a concerned look.

“I’m going to head into town. It’s about an hour's drive from here so I won’t be back til later. If you need anything, call, okay?”

You hum in reply already drifting to sleep in hopes you’ll feel better once you crash for a few hours. The nap helps and by the time you come to, your headache is completely gone. Waking up is a chore however; it takes you a minute to realize where you are, eyelids sticking together, gummy with sleep. 

Raising up on your elbows, you reach over to the side table and grab your phone. Eyebrows pinching together, you blink sluggishly until you can read the time. It’s only late afternoon even if it feels like you’ve slept through the night. Climbing out of bed, you change before leaving your room with a plan on grabbing some water from the kitchen. 

It’s noticeably quiet as you finally step out on the bottom floor. Your mom must still be gone since you don’t see her shoes by the front door. 

“Fuck.”

You hear the muttered curse from the half open bathroom door that you’re walking past heading to the kitchen. 

“Everything okay?” 

You slowly press the door all the way open and your dad fumbles with a towel before placing it over his lap as he sits heavily down on the edge of the tub. 

“I thought you were out with your mother,” he bites out, tone sharp.

“No,” you frown, leaning against the doorjamb, “I had a headache and took a nap. Are you alright?”

He blows out a breath and scrubs a hand over his face. 

“I’m fine. What time did she say she’d be back?”

You shrug, “Couple of hours I think. I don’t really remember.”

“Goddamn it.”

“Should I call—“

“No,” Leon nearly shouts, “no, don’t. It’s not a big deal.”

“Dad, I can help I just need to know what’s wrong,” you step closer into the bathroom. 

He laughs without any humor, “Sure.”

You go to ask him why when your eyes catch on the bottle sitting by the sink. It’s similar to the migraine medicine you saw in the medicine cabinet earlier, the one your mom pointed out if the nap didn’t get rid of your headache. Who knew your dad needed help getting it up?

“Did you..?”

You trail off, feeling awkward and nervous and disgustingly turned on to think your dad’s dick is hard underneath that flimsy towel. 

“Yes,” he sounds tired, “I thought it was the other medicine.”

“Ohh,” you bite your lip, brain completely in the gutter as your eyes drift down to his lap, “I mean, I can still help.”

It seems insane but your dad’s not stopping you as you shuffle closer to stand between his legs. His blue eyes stay steady on yours as you kneel in the floor, knees digging into the soft rug in front of the tub. Leon tugs his briefs down and his cock slaps against his stomach, precum drooling from the head. He’s so hard, the foreskin has drawn back from the tip showcasing how red and swollen his cock has gotten from the medication. 

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, eyes greedily taking him in.

“Fuck, don’t look at it like that,” he groans, hands gripping the tub so tight his knuckles blanch.

“You’re just really big,” you press the dough of your thighs together, trying to put a little pressure on your throbbing clit, “you’ve got the fattest cock I’ve ever seen, dad.”

You watch as precum blurts from the tip to drip all down his length while he moans low in his throat. 

“Christ, you’ve got a filthy mouth,” his pupils are blown as he gazes down at you, “since you like how big my dick is, sweetheart, why don’t you show me, hmm?”

Your tongue licks up all the precum leaking down his dick before softly suckling on the head.

“Oh fuck, that’s it,” he grunts, “suck that cock.”

Moaning, you bob your head down, tongue tracing the thick vein you can feel on the side as you sink down inch by inch. Your dad pulls out to trace your lips with his drippy tip, smearing precum across your mouth like sticky gloss. You moan and press a kiss to his dick, tongue lapping at the crown until he’s rocking back into your mouth. Humming low in your throat makes his cock kick in your mouth, precum coating your tongue.

“Damn, so good,” he groans, hand smoothing across your jaw, cradling it as he pulls his cock out, “never get head from your mom anymore. Feels so good.”

More slick wets your panties as you mewl, throat clicking as you swallow around his thick length. You hungrily suck his cock, tongue circling his head before dipping into the slit to taste more of his precum.

“Like sucking me off, sweetheart?” he tosses the fringe away from his eyes while he rocks his hips, pushing himself deeper into your throat with smooth strokes until you gag heavily. 

“Love that, choke on it a bit more and I’ll be spilling down your slutty throat.”

Thick strands of saliva bridge between your mouth and his dick like shimmery spiderwebs as he slips out. You moan when he ruts his cock across your tongue. Leon groans and reaches down to tap his cock against your lips before feeding it back to you. Whining, you suck him deeper into your mouth, licking across the head before messily bobbing your head further down his thick length.  

“I'm about t’cum, swallow it all up, princess,” he thrusts a few more times before pulling out until the tip is sitting fat and heavy on your tongue. 

Leon grunts and moans as hot thick spurts of cum fill your mouth. Swallowing quickly, you try to keep his cum from spilling out around your lips, but it ends up leaving a sticky mess to drip down your chin in thick strands. 

You watch as he groans, stomach flexing while you suckle on the head of his dick, making sure to not miss any of his hot jizz as his balls empty into your mouth. After giving the tip of his dick a kiss, you pull back and wipe the spend from your face with the bottom of your shirt. 

Your cunt feels soaked, panties sticking to your pussy lips as you shakily stand onto your feet.

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

Your dad stands up beside you, cock still hard and leaking, making you whimper. Pulling his briefs back up, he leaves his shorts and shirt lying on the floor. He grabs you by the forearm and leads you out of the bathroom and all the way upstairs into your room.

“No surprises if your mom comes home early,” he informs you, pushing you further into your room followed by closing and locking your door. 

Heat radiates from your cunt, more slick dripping into the already soaked gusset of your panties. Leon shoves you back onto your bed before climbing on top of you, kissing you heatedly as he sinks down onto your body. You wrap your legs around his waist while you run your hands through his messy hair. You're so turned on you can’t think straight anymore. 

“Thatta girl,” he coos, pulling back to drop kisses across your neck, “can’t wait to feel your wet little pussy, baby.”

You whimper and pull him back up into another kiss. This time he licks into your mouth messily, spit dripping from the corners of your lips to slide down your jaw. You feel him grind his cock against you before pulling away. 

He sits back on his haunches and slips his briefs off, maneuvering until he can toss them into the floor. Next, he leans forward and grips the bands of your panties and shorts. You help him, shimmying to move your clothes down off of your legs. As he moves those into the floor, you slip your shirt off and let it too fall onto the pile of clothing. 

“God, love your tits,” he groans, shoving his face into your breasts, mouth licking and biting every inch of skin they come across. 

His mouth suctions around a nipple, tongue teasing the stiff bud as he tweaks the opposite one with his fingers. 

“Dad,” you moan, nails digging into his scalp.

“What?” He coos, “your dad can’t show his appreciation?”

A whine rasps from your throat and Leon laughs meanly before biting the swollen bud he was sucking. With a grunt, he moves across your sternum, leaving hot open mouthed kisses across your chest until he can suckle and tease the other nipple, fingers plucking and pinching at the now wet one. 

Your hips writhe, leaking cunt dragging against his stomach as his cock grinds against the cleft of your ass. 

“Gonna let daddy stuff your tight wet cunt?” He chuckles as your eyes flutter as he lathes your nipples with broad swipes of his tongue. 

“Yes,” you whisper, “wanna feel you split me open. You’re so big.”

Whining on the last word, you rock down, feeling his tip catch against your pussy lips and driving you crazy. 

He growls and sits back on his heels, taking his cock in hand to smack it against your clit. 

“So slutty,” his pupils swallow the blue of his eyes, “want daddy to stretch this little hole out? Show you how a real dick feels?”

Nodding along with his words, you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, teeth sinking into the plush skin.  

“Goddamn,” he mutters, spitting in his hand to slick his cock before pressing the head against your soaked heat. 

Using his thumb, he presses his cock down so the tip slides into your hole. Keeping it there, he rocks against your hips, sinking inch by inch into your pulsing cunt as his thumb keeps his cock steady. Pulling halfway out, he flexes his hips and thrusts forward faster than before. 

“Even your mom doesn’t let me go raw anymore,” he chuckles, bottoming out so fast you choke on air, “so this is a real treat, sweetheart.”

“Ohh god, dad,” you moan, voice high as he starts sliding his cock in and out of your pussy, rough thrusts that make your breasts bounce. 

You whine when he grinds against you, his pelvis rubbing over your swollen clit just right. His balls smack against your ass on every thrust, the loud plap plap plap of skin driving your arousal even higher. 

“Dad, fuck, s’too much,” you gasp out another whine, head feeling dizzy as your blood rushes, arousal making your pulse feel heavy in your throat. 

He groans and drops his weight down on you, bare skin sticking together from the sweat building between your bodies. Leon kisses across your neck, mouth grazing your skin with barely there nips that makes your pussy flutter around his cock. 

The thatch of hair at the base of Leon’s cock grazes your sensitive clit, sending little electric shocks of pleasure that brings tears to your eyes. You feel so good, you can’t stop the slutty noises from leaving your mouth. Rutting into your body, your dad’s fat cock grinds against the spongy spot along the front of your cunt. Slick gushes from your pussy as he hammers your g-spot so perfectly you can’t help but squeeze him tighter and tighter. 

“Princess,” he murmurs in your ear, “is this little pussy gonna cum? You’re so soft and wet— I can feel you tightening up around me. God so much tighter than your mom, can’t believe I’ve been missing out.”

His words push you over the edge. You babble out little chants of dad, dad, dad until a guttural moan spills from your throat, thighs jumping as your pussy clamps down on Leon’s dick like a vice.

Your low moaning twists into a scream as his hand sneaks down to rub and tease your clit. Instead of your orgasm tapering off, it ramps up, gaining speed until it hurtles you into cumming again. 

“Aww, she’s gripping me so tight,” Leon mocks sweetly in your ear, “yeah, that’s it, sweetheart.”

“Dad,” you whimper, tears clumping your eyelashes, “dad, please.”

A moan rumbles from his chest and he humps your cunt faster, cock never pulling completely out as he ruts inside your slick pussy walls. Half a dozen thrusts more and he’s growling down at you, pressing his cock balls deep into your cunt, thick cum spurting from the tip of his dick to stuff you full.  

“Oh so tight, baby,” he sighs, hips pressed against yours as he spills inside your snug little cunt, “your little pussy fits me like a glove.”

Shuddering, your walls milk another small load of cum from his heavy balls and he pants noisily against your clavicle. He presses up onto his forearms, hips swiveling to pull his cock halfway out before sinking it back inside, a mix of your creamy arousal and his spend making a ring around the base.

“Good, huh,” his laugh tinges on mocking, “don’t worry, ‘m not done with my daughter’s cute pussy, gonna keep you here for as long as it takes.”

After that, it’s all a pleasurable blur. You're unsure how many orgasms your dad has given you at this point, but you know he’s only had three and his cock is still so thick and hard. 

“Think this one will be it, princess,” he grunts, hoisting your limp thighs up, the bend of your knees slotting perfectly over the bend of his arms. 

You can only pant in reply, mouth as dry as cotton. He notches the head of his drooling dick at your entrance, dragging the tip up to smear the cum from his last creampie all over your used cunt. 

“One last load for your greedy little pussy,” he grins down at you, “then we can take a shower.”

He sinks his cock into your sore pussy at the same time he leans forward, pressing your sweaty bodies together. Your eyes roll back as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, thighs shaking against his arms. 

“So deep,” he groans, “best cunt I’ve ever fucked and to think it belongs to my sweet daughter.”

Your pussy spasms and clenches down on his thick length as you cry out. Brain melting pleasure seeps down your spine as he pulls out to grind across your g-spot before fucking back into your cunt roughly. 

“S’good, dad,” you mewl, mouth drooling as he hammers his cock into your sensitive hole, “so good.”

“I know,” he croons, “I feel good, too. Not g’nna be able to give up this sweet little pussy. She grips me too good, baby, I’m gonna want her all the time.”

Another orgasm slams into your body, pussy pulsing and sucking his cock into your hole as your head thrashes against the bed. Leon’s hands grip your wrists to push them down against the bed so you don’t scratch him. 

“Fuck, milking your dad’s cock like you’re made for it,” he groans, humping into your pussy with deep strokes until you’re crying from overstimulation. 

“Shh, shh, just take it a little more, ‘m about to cum,” he licks into your mouth, biting on your bottom lip before pulling back, “that’s it, take it, take your dad’s dick deep into that hot, greedy little pussy.”  

Hiccuping a sob, your cunt steadily milks his cock as he buries himself all the way, as deep into your pussy as possible. He grunts against your skin as he grinds his dick against your cervix, spilling rope after rope of cum to paint your walls white. The sticky heat makes your clit throb even as your body aches, wanting to succumb to exhaustion. 

The distant question of how your mom isn’t back yet buzzes at the corner of your consciousness. You must slur it out loud cause Leon laughs as he pulls his softening cock from your puffy leaking cunt. 

“She texted you to say she got stuck in a traffic jam and the road’s blocked for a few hours,” he sighs as he slaps his cock down onto your messy pussy, a wet splat that makes you wince. 

“Dad, ‘m sore,” you pout.

“So sorry, baby,” he coos, a grin overtaking his face, “want me to kiss it and make it better?”

Chest fluttering at the thought, you go to agree when your phone buzzes with an incoming call. Leon grabs it to silence it but turns to look at you. 

“It’s your mom,” he chuckles, handing it over to you, “better see what she wants.”

Sliding it open, her voice rings out clear in the quiet of your room. 

“Hey honey, your dad didn’t answer but I wanted to say I’m about five minutes from the house if you wanted to preheat the oven for this frozen pizza I picked up,” she laughs to herself, “well, it was frozen.”

Your dad sits down on the edge of the bed, listening in to the conversation. 

“Okay, sure, we’ll see ya when you get here,” Leon nods at you, “bye, mom.”

After she says goodbye, you put the phone back on the side table. 

“Well we should get cleaned up,” Leon helps you stand on weak legs, “I’ll help you to the tub and I’ll head downstairs.”

“Thanks, dad,” you smile up at him and he drops a kiss on your cheek. 

“Of course,” he leads you out into the hallway, helping you inside the little bathroom next to your room. 

He sits you down onto the toilet, turning on the shower to allow it time to heat up. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss on your temple, “I know it’s all kinds of fucked up, but I still love you.”

Heart beating double time, you give him a crooked smile, “I love you too, dad.”

He presses his lips together, looking like he wants to say more, but he blows out a harsh breath and walks back out into the hall. 

“I’ll handle the oven and your mom, you just come downstairs when you’re ready.”

“I will,” you say as he swings the door shut. 

Sitting there with your thoughts, you let yourself feel. Satisfaction filters through followed by a smidgen of guilt and shame. You hate that your mom is an innocent party in all of this, but you don’t regret letting your dad fuck your brains out. And since this is a complete one off, it’s just a little family secret that you’ll both be taking to the grave. 

Once steam wafts from the shower, you stand up and step into the warm water. You whimper as the heat works on your sore muscles. By this time tomorrow, this will all seem like some really deranged fantasy you dreamt up. Finishing up in the shower, you dry off and make your way back to your room. Getting dressed, you descend downstairs, the smell of pizza growing stronger. 

“Oh there you are! Feeling better?” 

Your mom comes around the counter to feel your forehead. 

“Yeah, I just slept it off.”

She ushers you to sit down at the table and brings the pizza over, your dad following behind with the drinks. Your mom sits to your right and your dad sits across from you both. He catches your eye and winks, making you look down at your plate out of shyness. 

“Eat up, I’m sure you’re wore out from the hard day,” his mirthful tone draws your gaze back up. 

“Yeah,” you clear your throat and take a drink, “it’s been a hard day alright.”

[leons-lady]

I'm gonna hold yalls hand when I say this again

if you're gonna name the reader that isn't Y/N or (your name), or the character saying their name without those two I mentioned if it bothers you

tag it properly as oc x canon. not x reader. that is NOT my name.

(and yes, I will be blocking, but it's still gonna pop up everywhere so I need at least SOMEONE to try and get me.)

[ssaemilyhotchner]

there is so much i have said over the past decade about hotch and emily dancing at the end of 7x24, and yet still so much more i could possibly say.

i frequently come back to how it felt to watch this scene for the first time when the ep first aired - the euphoria, the grief, the claws around my heart.

it was, for me and so many others who were online at the time, the perfect embodiment of what shipping can be for people. the scene in question was, for all intents and purposes, the last time we thought we would ever see the character of emily prentiss again. and so if you really wanted to view it uncharitably, you could have seen that scene as the ultimate dashing of hopes that our ship would ever become canon. but by and large, that's just not how we saw it in real time.

instead, there was this sense of true joy, a perfect culmination, closure, bittersweet and blissful. closure to have gotten them acknowledging each other's tells. smiles, tenderness, attention. it's a date.

and then.

then we got hotch pulling emily to him. we got the juxtaposition of how he looks dancing with beth compared to how he looks dancing with emily - gone is the levity and in its stead is a deep intimacy, understanding, and gentleness that undergirds so many of their interactions throughout the series. (and again, you have to realize, this is before we knew what we know now - that emily would not just return but take up the mantle of unit chief at his request, that she would risk death for him and his son. we couldn't have imagined that then and it was still this clarion moment of yes, this is what we have been seeing all along represented in technicolor on the screen.)

i will always be silly about hotch and emily, but i will also always be so deeply serious about their pairing. i just love them.

[weskie]

To Make Your Heart Sing (Albert Wesker x ftm!Reader)

3556 words, fluff, hurt/comfort, s.t.a.r.s. wesker, ftm!reader, top surgery mention, coming out, main character injury, soft wesker, established relationship | Fic Directory

some truths are simply hard to tell. still, they must be told

You tried your best to keep things under wraps.  

RCPD’s human resources department knew of your ‘condition,’ but the file that landed on Captain Wesker’s desk a year and a half ago mentioned nothing of it.  You were just, well, you.  And that’s all you needed to be.  You were hired and the rest was history.

Or it was supposed to be.  Instead, you found yourself getting into the best of trouble.  Make no mistake, Captain Wesker intimidated you to no end.  Suppose that’s why the first time you turned a corner and the both of you knocked into each other left you a stuttering mess while you tried desperately to help him pick up the stack of paper he’d been holding.  The other officers who had been in the adjacent break room had the luxury of watching with bated breath to see him chew you a new one for such a careless mistake.

But he didn’t. 

The next was when you’d overcooked your food in the microwave, leading to a loud, wet pop and spaghetti sauce all over the insides of the machine. To your embarrassment, your captain was beside the coffee pot, brow arched just above the rim of his sunglasses as you sputtered and chuckled your apologies for both the mess and the noise.

You could’ve sworn he smiled.

Then there was that day you’d been running late.  You called the precinct from your clunky Nokia, begging for forgiveness from your captain.  As a peace offering, you offered to bring him coffee from a local shop, stating that it was “so much better than the liquid tar in the break room.”  His silence had scared you half to death, but his acceptance carried the strangest hint of amusement.  Black with two sugars, he’d told you.  When you’d finally arrived and delivered it, he took it directly from you, fingers brushing yours and making your cheeks light up.

That was the first time you’d ever seen more than a miniscule smirk on his face.  

Not to mention that time you’d pulled overtime and, upon entering to deliver yet another report, you’d found Wesker with his head resting atop his folded arms on the desk.  To this very day, you still had no idea what came over you to retrieve your S.T.A.R.S. jacket from your desk and drape it over his back.  You’d returned the next day to find it neatly folded atop your desk with a sticky note that simply said ‘Thank you.’

When the day came that he cornered you in the break room, black coffee with two sugars in hand from another one of your late mornings, you felt like a deer caught in headlights.

“I want to take you on a date.” 

Your eyes practically fell out of your head and your cheeks went up in flames.  You were stunned.  Captain Wesker was into men?  Not only that, but he was into you? You didn’t know what to say, what to do– anything.  You must have sat there blinking with your mouth agape for minutes before he’d finally just hummed, snagged a napkin and wrote his number down for you.

“If you find it agreeable, call this number later.  We can… work out the details then.”  

Looking back on it, he seemed just as nervous in that moment as you felt.  Not that you could blame him.  You figured he must have observed you for a long time to gauge if you’d be receptive to advances from another man, but the risk was still high– rejection, risk of harassment accusations… all sorts of bad outcomes must have been weighing on his mind.  But, that night, you called him.  Awkward as it had been, you both settled on a restaurant an hour outside of the city to reduce the chances of you two being seen by the others from the station, and the rest?  Well, it had progressed slow and steady, but your secret relationship with Captain Wesker, now simply Albert to you when appropriate, had entered its third month.

Which is why you’d grown nervous.

You didn’t know how to tell him.  At some point, things would progress beyond warm kisses and tender touches.  At some point your… anatomy was going to matter.  You wish you would’ve told him before all of this began and saved yourself the potential heartache of losing what had been the sweetest, gentlest relationship you’d ever had.  You worried yourself sick about it, always careful never to wear tank tops or shirts bright or thin enough that the tone of your chest scars could show through.  Your testosterone shots were easy enough to hide, thankfully.

Albert had been nothing less than a pure gentleman throughout it all, never once pushing your boundaries or showing impatience when you’d shy away from things.  Even the night you’d both fallen asleep on your bed consisted of little more than a hand resting atop the small of your back and your face nuzzled against the comforting rise and fall of his chest.

But, try as you might to hide it, Wesker had picked up on your anxieties.

“Have I made you uncomfortable?”  

Your heart fell through the floor the night he’d asked that.  You swore up and down over and over again that it was nothing he’d done and that you were just dealing with something that you didn’t know how to put into words.  He accepted your answer without question, pressed a kiss to your knuckles, and continued reading the file he'd brought home from work.

Your mind always turned to thoughts of how you were going to tell him, distracting you at the worst times.  Which, of course, put you in a situation where you had no choice in how the truth would come out.

The bulletproof vest had saved your life– for the most part, that is.  Gunmen in a hostage situation had released a young girl, sending her out to run toward the blockade.  She was to be a message, clearly, because they fired at her as soon as she got close.

You bolted out to cover her, mind devoid of sense the very moment you saw one of the men emerge from the building.

You took two to the chest with the first simply lodging into the center of your vest.  The other managed to pierce, embedding in your right pectoral.  You’d laid between squad cars and the steps to the bank for god knows how long, shaking fingers applying as much pressure to your wound as you could muster while the sun beat down on you without mercy.  The next thing you knew, you were being thrown into an ambulance and given the good stuff, and you woke up after who knows how long in a hospital bed.

Your first visitors were Rebecca and Jill.  You’d grown closer with them than most of the others– save for Wesker, of course.

“How are you feeling?”

You simply answer Jill with a lopsided smile and a hum, tipping your head back against the pillow.  “Mm, yup.”

“I don’t think the pain meds have worn off yet,” Rebecca giggles from across the room where she inspects the whiteboard covered with hastily scribbled patient information.

“Lucky him.  Should let Captain Wesker know he’s at least feeling good when we go back.  He’s…”  Jill turns to you with a sweet smile, clearly pondering her words.  “Distraught is a… is a word for how he is right now..”

That, of course, breaks your heart.  He was there when it happened.  Albert saw you go down.  Silly you, covering the girl they’d released…

Your eyelids grow heavier as time goes by, eventually slipping shut while you bask in their company.  When they open again, you’ve got two nurses at your bedside.  Even in your dazed state, you can put two and two together.  Just a change of bandages…

“Hi, sweetheart!” Chirps the woman closest to you while she peels away tape and gauze.  “You bled through so we’re just cleaning you up, okay?”

You simply nod and stare up at the ceiling.  It doesn’t hurt, thankfully, and the only thing you feel is cold air on your chest.  Part of you shudders.  Medical settings could be… complicated with your unique condition.  But you try not to anticipate the worst.

Oh how wrong you are.

“You can come in,” says the other nurse.  “Just replacing his bandages.  We’ll be out in a few.”

The hum in response yanks you from whatever blissful stupor the pain meds had lulled you into and you shoot up in the bed, shocking the nurse tending your wound.

“Careful, baby! You’ll tear your stitches–”

You barely hear her, nor do you feel her hands attempting to coax you back to the bed.  You go down, but not before locking eyes with your one and only.

Fuck…

They’ve got the top of your gown off and there’s no way–

You swallow thickly as your throat closes with a wave of shame.  You shut your eyes to hide the tears gathering within them, listening intently as Wesker’s nearly silent footsteps come to a halt on the other side of your bed.  He sees you.  There’s no way he doesn’t.  He’ll have questions.  Fuck, maybe he’ll just know outright.  Wesker’s a smart man…

You should’ve told him.

You keep your eyes screwed shut for what feels like eternity, even after the door clicks and the nurses leave you to each other’s company.  Neither of you says a word and it’s nearly pure silence until you hear the drag of a chair.  You just about jump out of your skin when his fingertips graze your knuckles, but they don’t retreat.  Instead, he takes your hand in his, lifts it, and presses kiss after kiss to it.

Your eyes crack open, vision bleary from tears and clearing as they spill.  You find him looking at you with furrowed brows and some painful combination of worry and relief written across his face.  His glasses are hooked on his shirt, showing you icy blues with a touch of red in the surrounding scleras. 

“How do you feel?”  His voice is as calm as ever, but, for once, his expression betrays him.

“Like I got shot,” you rasp.  You crack the tiniest smile despite the swirling dread and anxiety filling you to the brim.  You observe him for a minute, looking for something, anything to confirm your fears.

You find nothing.

“Indeed,” he hums, lips twitching at the corners.  “I’m glad you’re in good spirits despite the tears.”

You give a weepy chuckle that turns to tight sobs.  You feel so helpless and pathetic.  You’d almost died and now your little secret had been put on wide display for him.  Part of you figures this is just the universe’s way of telling you to get on with it.  Just finally rip the bandaid off.

You suddenly start to rise from your flat position.  Wesker watches you for signs of discomfort, taking his finger off the bed controls only once you were upright and–

Oh fuck– no, no, no!

They hadn’t buttoned your gown earlier.  The front section falls forward and you scramble to push it back up, holding it in place as you clench your eyes shut and bite your tongue.  His hand leaves yours and your stomach drops, ice shooting through your veins. For a minute, you think he’s leaving, but then–

Snap.  Snap.  Snap.

Your eyes widen, gaze falling to the hands working to pinch together the little buttons that run along the seam at your shoulder.  Wesker leans across you just slightly to repeat the process on the other side.  His scent fills your lungs and you can’t help but take a deep, greedy breath, chin quivering all the while. 

“Would you like to stay with me while you recover?”  He asks softly, taking his seat once more.  “Or would you prefer if I stayed with you instead?”

It’s so earnest that you could scream.  Part of you wonders if he’s just avoiding the elephant in the room.

“I imagine the comfort of your own home would lend itself better to your recovery,” he continues, taking your hand in his once more. “But I am not averse to either choice.”

“Al, you don’t have to–”

“You’ll need the help.”  He says, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.  “I assume you’ve had restrictions like this before.”

That cold feeling runs through your body again. He’s not avoiding it.   

“Yeah…”  

And he’s completely right.  You will need help.  You doubt your restrictions will be as tight as those you had after top surgery, but you did take a bullet to the chest.  Two, technically…

“I want you to think about it.”  Wesker checks his watch as he speaks, rising from his chair with a small huffed breath.  “My break is nearly over, but I’ll try to come by again before visitation hours end.  You should rest some more.”

You let your head fall back against the pillow once again, eyes fixed on him as he pushes the chair back to its original spot.  Wesker approaches your bedside again, hand raising to rest against the side panel controls.

“Up or down?”  He asks, voice soft.

“Mm, somewhere in between please.”  

Your eyes lock with his as you descend.  That same tenderness still dances in his gaze– the kind he saves for you and you alone.  Despite the tendrils of anxiety tugging at your mind, you find such an act soothes you to the core.  Wesker breaks eye contact for a split second to glance behind himself, ever the private man he is, and he leans over you.  His lips press to your forehead first, warm and soft, and his right hand rises to your cheek to thumb at the curve.  He holds that position for a moment, breaking it only to press another to your lips.

“Hm,” he hums, breaking away to glance at the monitor.  He chuckles softly.  “Your heart rate just jumped.”

Oh god, you think it yourself.  You can practically feel your cheeks go up in flames, but you giggle nonetheless at his cheeky little observation.  “Well, you know… handsome blonde guys named Albert do that to me.”

He leaves with a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks, much to your satisfaction.

They keep you at the hospital for another full day just to be safe.  Wesker spent his lunch break with you again, during which he reminded you that he would absolutely be aiding you while you’re under physical restrictions– you need only pick the place.  He’d been positive your own home would be better, so that’s what you opted for.  

Much to your joy, you weren’t excessively limited.  No heavy lifting, no strenuous activity– all the usuals.  You were to have two full weeks off before returning to simple desk duty.  Wesker picked you up, duffel bag of his necessities already packed in the back seat of his car, and brought you home.  Things were stellar until you realized he wanted to do just about every little thing for you, convinced you would cause yourself further harm.  Cooking was out of the question, so he made you meals that you could’ve sworn belonged in a gourmet restaurant rather than your little apartment. And laundry?  Forget about it.  You practically had to wrestle a handful of socks and towels from him so that you could feel less like a deadbeat.  Wound care, though… that was where things got tricky.  Wesker insisted that he be the one to change your bandages, and he did so twice a day, which was more often than was even recommended.

“I said I would take care of you.  What kind of partner would I be if I let you walk around in old bandages, hm?” 

It had been hard to let him do it.  Despite knowing full well he had a clear view of your chest in the hospital, you were still apprehensive to let him see it again.  No questions had been raised in regard to the origin of your scars, but that was somehow worse.  For a time, you figured he chalked it up to some sort of wound obtained in the field, but the day came where his hands wandered and a fingertip trailed the line running beneath your left pectoral.

“I…” You try, swallowing thickly to quell your nerves.

“Tell me about them.” Wesker breathes, finger still running along the ridge, pausing over the parts that weren’t quite perfect.

The worst part of everything?  You know full well you could just walk away and he’d leave it.  Al never pries; he always respects your boundaries.  'No' has always been a complete sentence to him, something you’ve appreciated endlessly in your time together with him.  But, all the same, wasn’t it time you gave an inch?  The man so endlessly patient and sweet to you, despite how he presents himself to the rest of the world, deserved the truth.

So you spill.

“I’m transgender…”  You murmur, words tight in your throat as you stare down to your socked feet.  From there, the rest falls free.  Every little detail.  Childhood woes, adulthood struggles– how happy you were the day you got your very first shot of testosterone and how you felt like you had a new lease on life itself when you woke up from your chest surgery all those years ago.  A tear or two escapes you as you tell your tale, but they’re not the bad kind.  No… they come from something else entirely.  A joy you could never put to words, a cresting wave of pride that you’ve come so far and lived so well despite every bump in the road, a sense of self that felt like wings upon your back…  With every story, you find yourself meeting his gaze more often until you’re looking right into those icy blues.

If Albert is dissatisfied with your revelation, he doesn’t show it.  Instead, he stands before you and listens intently to every word.  Without his glasses, you can see his eyes soften at certain parts, but it's the way his hand doesn’t quite leave from where he’d touched your scar before that keeps you hopeful throughout the entire ordeal.

“And I– I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, I just…” You exhale hard, eyes dropping with the weaning of that miracle burst of confidence.  “Telling people is… difficult.”

“Did you think I would react badly?”

You didn’t expect such a question, let alone for it to be asked so gently.  “I… yes and no.”  You chew the inside of your cheek as you ponder the way to best explain it to him.  “Not everyone is kind about it.  I didn’t think– it wasn’t that I thought you’d be mean about it, I just… I didn’t want you to feel like I was lying to you…”

Wesker’s eyes flit to the side for a brief second.  “I understand.  Though I fail to see how you would’ve lied.”

At that, you let out a breathy little laugh, eyes closing as you shake your head.  “So you’re okay with it?”  You ask finally, hand rising to rest over his that still lingered at your chest.  The anxiety returns and you worry the side of your lower lip between your canines.

“I am,” Wesker hums, offering you perhaps the softest, sweetest smile you’ve ever seen grace his face.  His free hand reaches for the one that hangs loose by your side, holding it tenderly as he leans forward.  At first you think he’s going for a kiss, which you happily prepare for, but he presses his forehead to yours.  You allow your eyes to flutter shut, same as him.  “I’m afraid you’ve stolen my heart, my dear.” He pauses for a moment, brushing his nose against yours. “You are who you are.  I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

At that, there’s simply no helping the way you throw yourself at him, arms wrapping around him as tight as you can without agitating your wound.  He returns your embrace immediately, palms stroking up and down the length of your back, perfectly warm against your skin.  

There’s one last thing to tell him.  Something that’s been in your heart for a while now.  He deserves every truth from you, and you’re all too happy to give it to the man who assigns you heaps of reports at work and makes your heart sing at home.

“I love you.”  You murmur against his collar, smiling big and wide at how his arms tighten around you.  “I really, really love you.”

“Good,” he hums.  Wesker rests his chin atop your head, swaying slightly as if to music that wasn’t there.  “Because I really, really love you, too.”

You giggle at his mimicry, but, in truth, you’re overflowing with joy.  It’s as if the sun itself has risen in your chest to hear those words, but that is simply the effect Wesker has on you.

What bliss to know you warm his heart the same.

[lyavee44]

Saudade [LEON S. KENNEDY X LUIS S. NAVARRO]

oh man, i never posted a fanfic before. im SCARED.

english isn't my first language, so i apologise for any errors in advance. and PLEASE correct me so i know better in the future!<//3

ngl it's a teensy tiniest little bit out of character, i got too silly

ion even ship them but i thought this would be really fun to write

word count - 25k

cw - COVID-19 is actually a B.O.W. (😭), mentions of death, suicidal thoughts, kidnapping, vulgar language, umbrella sucks ass, bad worldbuilding, sort-of coming out on both parts, fluff, angst if you squint, i forgor that benford kicked the bucket in 2013 so pretend he didn't 🙀 i already resurrected luis + re6 storyline is trash let's ignore it for the sake of old man yaoi

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This time, it can be different. It has to.

That is exactly what Leon told himself so many years ago before being sent off to rescue Ashley Graham. True, it sure was different. Nothing in his life could've prepared him for such an awakening, for having sunshine gently cascade over his face just for an eclipse to come moments later. Nothing could've prepared him for the harsh drop that left him chilled to the bone, blinded, and lost.

It's not as if he never loved before per se, he's had his fair share of flings - more or less serious. He's never been in so deep, though. He's never been one to believe in feelings to develop so quickly, either. Or rather, he didn't let himself get those feelings to bloom. Too risky to even think about it. Potentially harmful to himself and the other person. Forget it, Kennedy.

He knows there's more to life than just what he's grown to get accustomed to over the years. The stench of blood and gunpowder was practically undetectable to his nose at this point with how often he's caught onto it. It felt as if any firearm he got his hands on was molded perfectly for his callous palms, it felt natural. And yet, he knows this isn't it. This isn't what life is about, it's not about ending other beings for the sake of saving more. "Saving the world by destroying it, ain't that backwards?" is what he said to someone years ago as well. Goodness, it's been so many years and they're pouring through the cracks of his fingers. They're slipping away faster than his sobriety with every sip. Where did the time go...?

The agent sat there on his bed, right at the coffee table. His hand felt glued to the shot glass, the back of his throat beginning to burn more and more with the sting of pure vodka. He didn't even bother to buy his favourite booze, brandy, he didn't feel particularly deserving of a decent treat. If anything, he was miserable. All the years went by faster than the shots he's been downing for the past hour. While he isn't much of a lightweight, his head was fuzzy. All Leon wanted right now was to never leave his own eerily empty four walls anymore. He didn't want to bother, he just wanted the world to shut off.

And just when he was about to pour another round, his phone rang. The blonde groaned, his brows furrowing. He reached for the beat up device, checking the caller ID.

Hunnigan.

"Great," he rasped out, mumbling quiet expletives and then taking a few deep breaths. He knew better than to be impolite to his fellow support agent. She wasn't at fault for any of this madness anyway. She was just there to team up with him, and he had no business in having her deal with his low humour.

Clearing his throat, he finally picked up and hesistantly raised the phone to his ear, speaking in a groggy voice.

"Hey there, long time no speak." he tried to sneak in a chuckle, but all that came out was a short, wheeze-like scoff. The last mission he's been assigned to was maybe a month ago, and they hadn't spoken since.

"Really funny, Leon." the woman chided him in her low voice, although her retort held a hint of fond amusement. Despite everything, she cared for him like a friend would, professionalism aside. Speaking of which, she cleared her throat and forced herself to talk about what was at hand.

"Listen, there's something brewing. It isn't looking so good. It's-"

"No shit, Ingrid." he cut her off, his voice more impatient. He mentally cursed himself for snapping, although he already know what was at hand. Just another time he's gonna be getting his hands dirty for the sake of everyone else.

"Come on, Leon! What's up with you now?" Hunnigan exclaimed, already getting fed up with his attitude. "We've got something at hand that isn't looking like a regular B.O.W. It's not mutating phenotypes like the regular ones, it's more like... It's..."

"Sorry, I'm sorry." He cut her off once again, although it was uncertain if he was chiming in or apologising for his earlier behaviour. "No, it's just... Nevermind. Tell me about this."

"Thanks," The other agent huffed in response, shaking her head on the other line.

"It's as if they're coming up with someone to just straight up weaken or kill people." She finally explained as vaguely yet efficiently as she could, radio silence on the other side almost deafening her.

"Leon...?" She felt his hesistation, and it only served to frustrate her further.

"Yea, yea, m'still there," He mumbled, his voice holding a slight tremble to it. While he always kept a level head and quick wit in which he secretly prided himself in, he felt like he'll crumble any second now. He didn't know what was up with him this time, this dread...

"Leon!" Hunnigan yelled, her brows furrowed. "Turn on the video chat, I gotta see if you are in a decent state at all."

He flinched, hating the way it all got to him. He let out a grumble and clicked the video chat feature, his broken front camera displaying him in a slightly blurry picture. And yet, the redness to his nose and cheeks was obvious. Not only was he tipsy, but he seemed... shaken.

"There you are. Now, just listen. I don't know what the hell is up with you, but i wanna see you at the headquarters in half an hour. Not a minute later." The woman's brows were scrunched together, her red, round glasses gently slipping near the tip of her nose.

"Yes, ma'am." He gave her a weak smile, letting out a loud exhale when she nodded and ended the call. He hid his face in his hands, letting out yet another shaky breath.

***

"...And as you can see, it's not a regular bioweapon. All we know is that the Umbrella unit in Wuhan is probably responsible for this. We probably will have to send you and a few other agents to China for further investigation, and hopefully have you eliminate the risks." Hunnigan spoke in a levelled tone, holding a bunch of documents in her slender hands as she finished giving him an overview of the situation, although it was still too vague to take action properly. Leon stood there, really out of it. While he was showered and wearing clean clothes, he felt nasty. He was so tired, so guilty over snapping at everyone, even the kind young man at the lobby. 'God damn it Kennedy, what has he done to you?' he thought, only registering what she was saying. He spared a moment to think about the whole ordeal though, a spark of realisation dawning on him.

"Does that mean they want to... eliminate civilians in an unassuming way? With just a mutated flu, is that it?" He suggested, pointing at one of the reports on his colleague's desk.

Ingrid's eyes widened, she glanced at the document and back at him in bemusement.

"Now that's a... dark scenario. A scarily fitting one at that," She responded, her voice holding a hint of nervousness.

"Didn't we have scarier stuff out there, though? A deadly cold is still better than an ARG-esque rendition of The Walking Dead." He scoffed bitterly, shooting her a glance. Holding onto cynical humour was his only grip on sanity, the last desperate scratch at the border of being in his right mind. He was terrified deep inside, like that boy he used to be. The poor, shaken young man, covered in sewage and blood, forced to kill and hopefully not get killed. He's been running scared for so many years. It all got him want to just have it all flip backwards and let him aim the glock at his temple. He missed the cheery lad he used to be. The spring in his step, the spark in his navy eyes that restored hope in everyone's hearts is long gone.

And yet, his own heart pumped with this foolish, childish virtue.

"Leon," the woman spoke in a quieter tone, putting her hand on his shoulder. "You know you've got this. You've got it all this time. You have this resilience in you that inspires many." She tried reassuring him, patting his shoulder softly. While it was rare for her to drop her façade of stoic professionalism, she sensed it's not something worth being cold over. Like they say, a friend in need is a friend indeed.

"Yea, inspires Benford to make me a slave." He mumbled, although his expression softened at her touch.

"Thanks, Hunnigan. I... I appreciate it. We're in this together, ain't we?" He shot her a more determined look, the corners of his lips twitching up just a little bit further up. The woman nodded, a small smile making way to her face as well.

He really felt grateful for having solace in her, it seemed as they understood eachother without speaking a word. She truly was a friend to him, teaming up with him through the trenches of this rotting world.

Life couldn't be that way until the end. It has to be different someday. It has to.

***

It's been quite a bit since Hunnigan called him in, and there was no actual news. The president dialled him a few times and spoke about this as well, although he was just as confused and frantic as they all were. The ordeal sparked unsettlement in the HQ, and it soon was to spread like a sickening virus to the outside world.

Figuratively and literally.

"Agent Kennedy, I'm afraid it's going to be something we hadn't seen before, I-I need to inform you beforehand that it's a worldwide crisis..." President Benford spoke frantically, it was a bit unlike him. Leon was watching the news while on the phone with him, trying his best to focus on both.

"The countries of British Islands are currently in lockdown due to a pandemic spreading, the citizens are advised to not leave their houses without protective masks on," There it was, the thing everyone was whispering about at the DSO headquarters. It was a hush-hush topic, as no one knew for sure. Or rather, no one wanted to be sure of something like this.

"Well yes, I can definitely figure as much. The UK is already quarantined, ain't it? What about China, then? Wouldn't that make a potential mission harder to even initiate?" The man spoke up, fiddling with an empty glass in front of him. He surprisingly wasn't drinking this time around, though. He secretly hoped that the mission would've been handled differently, without his involvement. It was hard to imagine a different scenario, though. It's the sad truth - whenever there's real danger, he's gotta step in.

"No. If anything, it'll be a bit easier. Civilians will stay home, and your job will be limited to entering the Umbrella facility. You might be sent to Wuhan along a few agents that'll be chosen for the job. We won't make the team larger than maybe three units at best." The older man explained, all while Leon was rubbing his temples in annoyance.

"Sure, easier..." The blonde blurted out quietly, biting his lip. He didn't know what's been getting into him lately, something akin to a midlife crisis of some sort. While still strong and energetic, he was a wreck mentally. Like a reanimated corpse. He shuddered at the imagery, the picture hitting too close to what he's been dealing with during T-virus outbreaks.

"I will pretend i didn't hear that." The president replied in a stern voice, clearly displeased with the agent's demeanour. They were friends, but also on boss-employee terms. That came first, unfortunately.

In no time, languid days of downing whiskey and eating store bought lasagna were cut short before Leon knew it. The man was currently being transported to China with a few other agents. While they did technically form a team, he knew he'll probably have to do most of the dirty work including sneaking into the labs while they corner the scientists. His earlier apprehension and apathy was replaced with a newfound determination: he knew it's just a matter of time for a virus outbreak to come to fruition, and it's not even clear what kind of virus it really is. Nothing he's been dealing with before, yet nothing he couldn't handle. Right?

***

Wuhan, China - 01/23/2020

The blonde man's finger tapped against the barrel of his handgun nervously. It was rare for him to fidget, but something about the whole ordeal was off in general. Day of the Wacko, he thought to himself.

As him and the team were discussing details of breaking in while hiding between a field of some large containers, they came to a conclusion that the three younger agents should hide in strategic spots and eventually corner anyone who gets on Leon's tail, who's going to be responsible for investigating and essentially just sneaking around the enemy's lair. Exactly how he knew it'd go. While he was tired and annoyed, he didn't trust anyone else to do this quite like he did.

"Roost to Condor One." The slightly noisy sound of a leveled mezzo-soprano voice came from his COM, successfully cutting his pondering short.

"Condor One here, we're near the facility's rear gate. Obviously just trying to break in through the gate itself is not the way, we're trying to figure out if there's a way through the sewers, perhaps." Leon responded, keeping his voice hushed as he spoke to Hunnigan. However his attempts to stay discreet were cut short as one of the rookies shouted cheerfully that he found a sewer entrance that could directly lead to the facility. The older agent facepalmed discreetly and another young rookie chided her teammate, her tone also hushed despite the sternness.

"We've got to go there soon. Condor One out." Leon hang up, waving his hand at the rookies and trotting closer to the canalisation entrance in the ground. He wasted no time in asking the young woman for help with moving it aside, she seemed quite toned compared to the other two men they've been working with. Once they could enter, they immediately rushed inside the sewers, the last of the agents clumsily pulling the cover back on once he slipped in as well.

The way inside Umbrella's building wasn't exactly pleasant. The stench of rot and filth was unbearable, it was a real challenge to not slip on some of the disgusting, miscellaneous things on the concrete. Other agents whined under their noses, and Leon couldn't help rolling his eyes.

"When I was your age, I tumbled around worse smut." He quipped, trying to lift the mood. All he got in response were stifled chuckles, and he mentally cursed himself for his choice of words. His embarrassment was short lived once they found a ladder that could lead to the building's rear gate.

Everything else went pretty much according to plan, even Leon's silent vow to not scold the everliving shit out of his colleagues. They were clumsy, they seemed too careless. They're still kids, they've got to learn the ropes, you used to be just like them, he repeated in his mind.

While they managed to break into a cloakroom and get their hands on janitor attire, the older agent began to look for somewhere more private so he could dial Hunnigan. The whole ordeal was so vague, he didn't even know what the hell's he looking for.

"Condor One to Roost, we've successfully broke in. I'm currently trying to locate a lab, although I'm not exactly sure what I gotta look out for," He whispered while tucked away in a bathroom stall, constantly looking around for cameras. Chill out, it's illegal to monitor bathrooms... So is creating bioweapons, and yet here we are, he paled at the thought.

"From the info gathered from a spy, you should head to the third floor and look for room number 3048. That's the place suspected of having a potential new bioweapon hidden there." Hunnigan responded, catching onto his quiet voice and figuring she better be careful as well.

"Copy that. I'll go right away. Condor One out." He hang up, shoving his COM into his pocket and sighing. He carefully listened for a clue of his team's diversion starting so that he could leave and head straight to the point. The plan was to get the attention of scientists on something insignificant so that he could get to point B.

A creaky moan reverberated through the halls, and concerned voices echoed. He chuckled to himself, amused at his colleague's theatrical display. The blonde quickly snapped out of it though, double checking if he's got everything on him and beginning to head straight for the third floor.

It was surprisingly easy, all he had to do was evading a few oddly placed cameras making his way up some stairs. Looks like they're not exactly fit. Tch, the elevator's for pussies, he mused to himself. He was quiet as a mouse, reaching the third floor without even wheezing from extertion it must've taken. The hall was darker than the other ones, and just a few doors had light peeking through the cracks. The most dim, barely visible brightness was right at the spot he was just meant to find - lab 3048. Bingo.

The agent quietly sneaked closer, looking around for security cameras. To his surprise, there was only one, and it only recorded the other end of this hallway. As he walked, he stopped in his tracks right at the large, white door. Was he supposed to just barge in and get attention on himself or what? His hesistation and also his perfectly seamless approach was ruined by his COM ringing, making him hiss out a panicked curse as he quickly spoke to the device, his voice oddly high and quiet.

"Not now, Hunnigan! Not now!!" he pleaded, hearing someone behind the heavy door scrambling frantically. Before his informator even responded, the entrance was swung open by someone.

This encounter had this person fall back to his chair, slumping in it while breathing heavily as a few of the messy documents on his desk were sent flying to the floor.

"Leon, what are you doing here?!" the person shouted, his eyes blown wide.

The agent stood there, not even reaching for his gun with how shocked he was. However, his stunned expression quickly gave way to fury as he stormed to grab the man by his shoulder, pinning him harshly to the desk's corner as he grabbed his firearm and pointed it at his head. The man hissed, his brows furrowing, even though he only flailed a bit to try and squirm away.

"Luis, what the fuck?! Was that whole ordeal staged? Are you still working with that mad woman?! You bad fucking liar, how could you do this," he rasped, his ocean blue eyes piercing into the Spaniard's brown ones in utter rage. His grip on his shoulder never lessened, mercy barely holding onto him by a thread.

Luis Serra Navarro. There he was. Not blown up somewhere in the Valdelobos mine, being remember by Leon as a remarkable example of self fueled redemption and determination. There he was, putting utmost care to working for the very company that ruined many lives, ruined Leon's life, crawling back to eat from their hands like a pathetic bitch. Yes, that's what he is, a bastard mutt that betrayed him.

And yet, a twinge of something bright tugged at his heartstrings. He's alive and well. Right in his arms, just inches between them. This childish hope alongside a whirl of questions flied around his head like a bunch of wild bats, the more regretful and frustrated ones mixed with the more... exciting ones, in a way. Did he miss him? What was he up to? Has he thought about him? How did he stay so sweet?

"Amigo, let me explain-" Luis wheezed out the plea, his expression full of remorse. He yelped quietly, his eyes squeezed shut when Leon only snarled in response.

"I am NOT your amigo. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is that some sick joke? Was the cash worth more than your honour?" he mocked him sternly, gripping his shoulders until his knuckles were white. Deep inside, he was terrified and basically screaming at himself to drop the gun. He didn't want to shoot, not at him. Betrayed or not, it's still Luis. Very real and very much still himself. His soft brown locks pulled into a tiny bun at the back, the perfectly sunkissed skin, his stubble grown just a little more than usual. Just like he remembered.

"Mi vida, please! I-" the scientist coughed, shaking. He looked like a wet dog, to put it lightly. His state was worrying. The eye bags he normally had were way deeper and darker in hue. His hair was messy and a bit oily. His normally syrupy lips were chapped. Did he really remember them as syrupy? God damn it, but they never kissed. Why was he even thinking like that?!

Sighing, he lowered the gun and slightly lessened the grip on Luis' arm. He nodded at him, although he was moments from snapping again.

"Back in the mines, it was a terrible deal with me. Ada-"

"Of course it's Ada. Is it all her bribery? Don't you have your own mind, your own view?" Leon cut him off with something akin to resentment and sadness in his voice, scowling as he shook the handgun menacingly.

"Sancho, Sancho... don't think about it like that. She paid good money for saving my life. They restored most bodily functions, although my nervous system is still quite, uh, jodido." The Spaniard offered a bashful grin at the last part, hoping to light up the mood. However his next admissions weren't so cheery.

"I'm gonna be straight with you. It was either getting back to working for those bastards, or death and no chance of ever starting over." Luis deadpanned, his head hanging low. He looked ashamed and miserable, his defeated expression making him almost unrecognisable.

Leon's hand trembled as he lowered his weapon down to his waist, then hooked it in its place and came up to engulf his long lost friend in an embrace, earning a loud squeak from him.

"Ay, ay! Careful...!" The brunette whined, a bit surprised, although in a pleasant way. He quickly melted into the clumsy hug, patting his back.

"I'll get you out of here. You'll see." Leon spoke in a hushed tone, repeating reassuring words to his long lost friend, lost love perhaps. He never believed in feelings developing so quickly, yet everything they did together only ensured him that they've got to stick together.

"But-"

"No buts, Luis. Listen, you're better than this. You know you are," Leon whispered against his neck, pressing his cheek against his. He hoped it wasn't too... obvious. It'd be weird if he swung that way. Or if himself did as well. Doesn't he sway there already?...

The Spaniard shuddered, his head spinning. He was truly touched, his hand slowly trailing down to hold the agent by the waist.

"Listen, we can cooperate. I will tell you everything about the project, as I'm sure you're there for our little... cold." He began speaking, his lip all bitten from unease. He was grateful to run into his old mate again, yet the circumstances only reminded him of the time when he was still a fishy creep to Leon.

Leon loosened, pulling away with a confused expression before realisation downed on him, his jaw agape.

"So you're responsible for the COVID-19 outbreak...?"

"No, well, yes, but not quite," The man fumbled, with the hem of his labcoat, looking away.

"I was forced into the project under the threat of my past being exposed to the general public. I wouldn't hired in any other lab. I would probably be turned in for cooperating with terrorists. I didn't want to rot in Alcatraz or some other hellhole, but being cowardly isn't so great either..." He rasped, his voice full of remorse.

The blonde man looked down to his friend's gloved hands, the sterile scent of the lab mingling with his spicy, tangy perfume made him dizzy. In an oddly pleasant way at that. He scoffed quietly, raising the man to his feet.

"Listen, I have a plan. I'll pretend to capture you and deliver you to the US. Then I will convince the president to make you work for the S.T.A.R.S. researcher team."

"So I'll technically be held hostage, is that it...?" Luis sneaked in an uncertain giggle, shooting Leon a worried smile.

"No, dumbass. It's not a bad fate, trust me. I can absolutely get you out of legal consequences. My connections better be useful for once," Leon huffed, giving him a pat on the shoulder. He was determined to save his friend, score in the eyes of Benford, and maybe even...

He bit his lip, turning his head aside stubbornly and grabbing handcuffs from his belt. Luis shot him an alarmed look, but Leon only gave a nod in return and gestured him to stay still.

"Just let me do this. And dramaturgy will be much appreciated," He quipped, coming closer to restrain the brunette man, his hands behind his back now. He let out an indignant huff, shooting him a playful glance.

"Now that's one way to shortcut a date, Sancho."

Leon spluttered, giving him a smack to the hip.

"What- nevermind, let's just go. Pretend you're resisting," he murmured, grabbing Luis' wrists and dragging him to the exit, he also had his pistol ready to open fire, his focused and stern expression back in its full glory.

"Ah-a, there he is. Leon The Professional." Luis chuckled, winking smugly. All he got was a scoff in return, his wrists getting yanked harder.

"Just shut up. I wanna kidnap you properly," he muttered, squeezing the scientist's hands together.

"So much for a compliment..." Luis complained, pouting like a child.

***

The next few hours were a whirlwind of shooting up the damn place, successfully taking out quite a few guards and securing the SARS-COV-2 sample for further information. The other units cheered, shooting mockery at Luis every now and then. The Spaniard clenched his teeth, sitting through the constant jabs to his ego. Leon wasn't exactly pleased either, wishing he could just hold him instead of keeping a hawk's eye on the cuffed man. Hold him? What the fuck? He shook his head, unaware of the fact that a certain brown-eyed Hispanic 'hostage' was returning his concerned, fond gaze.

***

"Kennedy, what were you thinking? Bringing an enemy to the White House, is this some kind of joke?" president Adam Benford lamented, constantly pacing his office as Leon stood there awkwardly, holding his friend by the cuffs firmly yet gently.

"He could be a valuable asset, look at it like that," he began to nervously defend his plea for hiring Luis as the US government's bioweapon researcher, although the words he uttered burned. He didn't like referring to him as an 'asset', not even one bit. It gnawed at him to refer to his be- his friend in such a condescending way.

"Sure, because he knows all about it firsthand." Benford pointed out bitterly, glaring at the sheepish Spaniard before him. His head was hanging low, deep breaths escaping him.

"I... Mister President, I truly want to help. I was blackmailed, and I wish to-"

"Death is a better fate than rotting away in Umbrella HQ!" Benford deadpanned, the following silence hanging so heavy it could fill a deaf person with dread. Luis flinched, his head turning to the side as if he's been slapped.

Leon's brows furrowed, his grip on Luis' hands lessening just a bit. No, he isn't having it.

"You're not wrong, yet you must understand that Doctor Serra isn't a bad man. He was a great comrade back in Valdelobos, and..." He retorted defiantly, not relenting. He was dead set on freeing his friend at all costs.

"He betrayed you, Agent Kennedy. It's not what a good person would be up to." the president spoke with a desperate tinge to his tone, doing his best to just lead his best unit away from such a reckless idea.

"There's something you don't know, though. I was there when COVID-19 was created. It's not as complicated to me, I... I could figure out a vaccine," Luis spoke up at last, his voice scratchy from the scarce use of it for the past ten hours or so.

"In the eyes of a global pandemic and so many casualties so far, you're just now thinking about taking action? Is it remorse, or just a bastardly calculation to save your skin?" the president was seething, his words coming out as a low growl through clenched teeth.

"Adam, come on!" Leon begged, resorting to a first name basis with the representative figure of the United States himself. They are on good terms, sure, yet he's still a higher-up. Not only to him, hell, to everyone.

Benford sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It wasn't going to be a quick chat, that's for sure.

***

After long debates, weeks of house arrest and special force surveillance on Luis, a decision has been made. He's been assigned to cooperate with doctor Rebecca Chambers, a skilled genius among the S.T.A.R.S. scientists. Beat up, neglected in terms of health, with his old stab wound still restricting his movement somewhat, Leon made it his mini mission to nurse the Spaniard back to health. Well, he had nowhere to go, and he was assigned to look over him, keeping it in his apartment was the wisest choice...

Luis Serra Navarro was a free man who started a new life. Proud of himself and yet still guilty of contributing to the worldwide crisis, he worked like a busy bee to create an optimal kind of vaccine. Doted on and looked after by his amigo, he couldn't help but feel warm inside at the mere though of him. The blonde man's hair was already darkening as he aged, his bushy brows were always furrowed, yet he looked somewhat boyish still. Angelic, if he was allowed to think that. His Italian heritage came as a great surprise to the Spaniard, resulting in light-hearted teasing and playful quips in broken Italian. Luis' jokes sometimes brushed against the thin line between banter and flirting, and while the subject of them was pretty clueless, he did get that weird flutter sometimes.

***

Sitting with his legs crossed by the large window, Luis stared down at the dusky sky, sun setting behind many buildings of Washington DC. He sipped tea, unwinding after a long 24 hour shift of relentless work over the coronavirus shot. Leon was in the middle of cooking up a decent carbonara. His hispanic roommate often scolded for not knowing his way around the kitchen, saying how it's disgraceful for an Italian to suck so bad he could burn water in a kettle. While not letting it show much, the agent's ego was deeply wounded. He was dead set on proving he could replicate the hearty meals from his childhood. Whew, his childhood... Rough and cold, being tossed around and shoved aside as he was born into the Kennedy mafia, confessing it all to Luis was quite the hard candy, to put it lightly.

After twenty minutes of quiet noises reverberating through the small apartment, Leon was slowly stepping closer to his friend's side. Shaking his head, he forced himself to sit on the floor as well. He hated being 'improper' or however he put it, but his beloved's habits felt like the law.

Speaking of which, his eyes lit up at the sight of toasty food and his... saviour, so to speak. He hummed in approval when he sat by his side, nodding and whispering softly.

"Muchas gracias, mi estrella. It smells scrumptious." He smiled fondly, grabbing a fork and taking a bite of fresh carbonara. His eyes widened, and he hummed while shoveling a few more forkfuls of food, much to Leon's amusement.

"Did I improve that much?" he asked in a teasing tone, eating his portion more slowly.

"It's delish, Sancho. You've come a long way, I'm proud of you." Luis sighed in contentment, practically inhaling the food.

His words made Leon's heart stir, a bit of hesistation giving way to a shoot of confidence. He didn't know what got into him all of a sudden. He set his plate on the floor next to them, earning a puzzled hum from the Spaniard. The small noise morphed into a soft yelp when Leon leaned in closer, his forehead pressing against Luis' with his eyes half lidded. They stared deeply into his hazel ones, a low purr escaping him.

"So did you, Don Quixote. I'm proud of you as well," he whispered, his nose brushing against his. The blonde's freshly shaved beard contrasted with the brunette's scruffy stubble, making for a nice completion. Like polar opposites, they gravitated towards eachother. Leon's cold navy eyes were full of this spark that everyone thought was dead and gone.

"Dios mio..." Luis whispered, enamoured and captivated with the sight before him. He took in every small scar, every mole and birthmark, everything about the Adonis' offspring before him.

Leon's hand cupped his face, and he planted a tiny peck on the tip of his nose. It was barely there, yet it held more than just a pleasant gesture. It meant closure. It meant tenderness. It meant something that they both didn't dare to say out loud.

***

Leon was never exactly up for forming a family. He's quite good with kids, also he adores and loves women, sure. Both him and Luis have a reputation of being cheeky and flirty all the time. And yet, this feline magnetism in both of them didn't clash, it merged. With Leon's tenderness that mixed with smugness and Luis' carnal and candid demeanour, they completed eachother. And that's what made it a match made in hell we call our planet.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────

[justaz]

post magic reveal, post magic ban lifted, arthur gets to see merlin in all his glory and somehow falls deeper in love with him than he ever thought possible. merlin who is free and accepted and loved and ecstatic by it all, but there's that thought lingering in the back of his mind that only half of their destiny has been fulfilled. magic has returned to camelot but albion is still fractured in many different kingdoms, many of which are still holding onto the hate that uther spread which is seeping into the very fabric of the earth itself. druids and magic users and even magic creatures are still persecuted all across the realm and yeah camelot opened her arms to them but not everyone trusts it (justifiably).

arthur who is choking on the sheer amount of love he has for merlin and promising himself that he'll tell merlin, he'll confess, even if he feelings aren't reciprocated. merlin will know. merlin who has been chewing on an idea for some time now and is planning on bringing it up to arthur. its night as merlin is dressing arthur for bed and they're both quiet and tense. they break at the same time and end up speaking over one another. arthur allows merlin to go first since his nerves are eating away at him. then merlin speaks of leaving.

arthur feels his nerves rot and decay and fall into a bottomless pit. merlin is rambling about how every magical being in albion is still being targeting by various kingdoms and as the prophesied emrys, magic incarnate, druid king, should he not be doing more to help? he doesn't want to leave arthur's side, but he does want to help his people. he's seen only a fraction of the atrocities committed against them and he wishes to protect them, give them somewhere completely safe, a kingdom of magic so to speak. he promises that he'll only be gone for as long as it takes to establish a kingdom (a year? two? three?) but he promises to write and visit often...as long as arthur gives him permission and allows him to leave his service for the time being.

arthur of course agrees, half unhappy about it but completely understanding. surely, out of everyone, he is the one who can understand the weight of responsibility weighing on merlin's shoulders. he mentions that merlin will need someone with experience wearing the crown to guide him. plus, balance. merlin was always there for arthur, guiding him on how to be a better man, a great king, someone worthy of the praise he constantly spewed. it's only right that arthur gets to return that by helping merlin establish a safe haven and home for his people. and politically, camelot being the first kingdom to recognize merlin's and establish some trade agreement or treaty with them will strengthen merlin's kingdom's status and send a message that camelot stands with magic.

merlin smiles wide and asks what arthur was going to say. the king hesitates before biting his tongue and requesting that merlin bring up the honey cakes that had been prepared earlier that night. two of them. since merlin was no longer in his service, he didn't have to stand by and watch arthur eat - not that he ever did, the idiot loved to steal his food. shamelessly!! he never even tried to hide it. they both sat at the table in his chambers until late in the night, nibbling away at the sweets, chasing it down with wine, and chatting away.

arthur wasn't able to confess, but it did not change his feelings. if anything, merlin's heart and the decision he made only added fuel to the raging inferno of love and devotion within arthur. he knows that merlin will keep in contact and will return to his side one day. he gets through the tough days/nights by rereading merlin's letters and imagining seeing him again in royal garb and donning a crown.

[geddy-leesbian]

With the passing of his father, Leon inherits a farm in a sleepy little town. For reasons he doesn't quite understand, he quickly becomes a little bit obsessed with a young man named Luis who splits his time between playing guitar under a tree, zipping around on his beautiful steed, and doing what can only be described as "mad science." Unfortunately, Luis has been thinking about moving back to the city. But maybe Leon can convince him to stick around…

[putrid-sex-machine]

hopping on kink-tober criminally late. let’s see how many i can get done ^_^

(i decided go mash/swap prompts and lists for my own convince) (i shortened the prompt list even further bc i missed so many days </3 sorry gang)

14) collaring/pet play/praise kink/humiliation || re2r leon kennedy x masc!reader

15) size difference/marking/hunter-prey || werewolf chris redfield x afab gn!reader

16) cock worship/masturbation/swallowing/cock warming || ID leon x gn reader

18) mask kink/amateur porn/role play || ghostface chris redfield x gn!reader

19) suspension/mirror sex/sex toys/dirty talk/breath play || leon kennedy x afab masc!reader

20) anal/praise kink || re6 leon kennedy x amab fem!reader

21) cunnilingus/threesome/piercing/double penetration/voyeurism || chreon x masc reader

22) thigh riding/knife play/bruising and bite marks || vampire!leon kennedy x gn!reader

23) face sitting/lingerie/overstimulation || DI leon x gn afab!reader

24) anonymous sex/sensory deprivation/leather/bondage/pet play || chreon gay bar au

25) dub-con/monster fucking || older!leon

28) fucking machine/sex pollen/dub-con || re6-DI/older!leon kennedy

29) branding/uniforms || metaltango

[judasiskariot]

Writers WIP Poll

Got tagged by @forget-me-maybe 😃 thx, I like this one😊

Rules: Make a 24hr poll listing the titles of every WIP you want to work on. (It’s fine if you only have one, still make a poll for the vote count). Whichever WIP title gets the most votes, write 1 sentence for every vote received.

YOU CHOOSE:

I tag @anacdoce , @pinkberrytea , @alpydk , @medra-gonbites , @damadisangue , @nihilistikal

[saturnplaza]

✩•̩̩͙˚𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍˚•̩̩͙✩

(updated)

Hiya :p My name is-- Saturn//Jayde They/Them I'm non-binary =] ALSO I'M QUITE GAY 🩷💛💙

I YAP ALOT, I LOVE TALKING AND I'M A SUPER HUGE NERD -- I love Ryan Ross, The entirety of My Chem, Resident Evil Two, SO SO SO MUCH MORE I CAN'T KEEP TRACK OF IT. IF YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT I'M INTO JUST STALK MY BLOG XD PLEASE SEND ASKS AND INTERACT WITH ME, I LOVE INTERACTING WITH PEOPLE WHO LIKE THE SAME THINGS AS ME AND WHO ARE COOL!! I LOVE INTERACTING AND MAKING FRIENDS IN THE FANDOMS I'M IN --- On that note...

I AM IN ALOT OF FANDOMS TOO MANY TO RECALL

SOME THOUGH, ARE:

(TOP FIVE ONLY CAUSE WE'LL BE HERE FOREVER)

BANDS: ✩ My Chemical Romance ✩ Panic! At The Disco ✩ Fall Out Boy ✩ Peirce The Veil ✩ Periphery

VIDEO GAMES ✩ Resident Evil (all) ✩ Silent Hill (2 & 3) ✩ Life is Strange (BTS & 1) ✩ Red Dead Redemtion (1 & 2) ✩ Detroit Become Human

MISC. (Mostly shows//Movies) ✩ Creepypasta ✩ I am Not Okay With This ✩ The Goldfinch ✩ Shameless ✩ Quackity (On the VERY rare ocasion)

I do alot of things -- I'm all over the internet.

LINKTREE!!!

-- I Write --- I Edit --- I Do Art --

WRITING

Writing is a big thing for me, it always has been-- I've always had the urge to be creative or get my thoughts out and well that's what I do.

I write alot of things I write:

FANFICTION -- (Yikes...)

FANDOMS I WRITE FOR:

 (This list will be updated as I go)

--------------------------------------------

Resident Evil:

Leon Kennedy

Carlos Olivera 

Ada Wong 

Claire Redfield 

Jill Valentine

Detroit Become Human:

Connor RK800

Gavin Reed

Life is Strange:

Chloe Price 

Nathan Prescott

Max Caulfield 

Bands (More to come)

Ryan Ross (P!ATD and The Young Veins)

Vic Fuentes (Peirce The Veil)

Kellin Quinn (Sleeping With Sirens)

Mikey Way (My Chemical Romance)

Frank Iero (My Chemical Romance)

Pete Wentz (Fall Out Boy)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

!!NOTES!!

I Mainly write X reader but I can dabble into pairings as long as they’re legal, not creepy, make sense, etc. 

MASTERLIST AT THE BOTTOM

!!ALSO I AM A MINOR I DO NOT WRITE SMUT!! (I will write very close, it can  get spicy but I stop it at a certain point)

ALL OF MY FANFICTION GETS PREMOTED ON THIS BLOG AND POSTED ON MY:

A03

https://archiveofourown.org/users/SATURNPLAZA/pseuds/SATURNPLAZA

I ALSO WRITE ON LIVEJOURNAL !!!

If you are more intrested in more intamite writing, or blogging this is where you'd want to be--

https://saturnplaza.livejournal.com/

SOCIAL MEDIAS

TikTok -- https://www.tiktok.com/@saturnplaza : 

I EDIT WOOO WHOOO. I have always loved editing and I am pretty good at it (I may just be biased cause its myself) --- I edit alot of random things I'm into --- Fair warning my upload times do very --- But I am very active with moots and fandoms ---

Tumblr -- You don't need a link we're on my blog: AH YES, my infamous blog where I yap about the most random shit cause I am the queen of yapper town. I am very active and intarct alot with people.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

!!ALSO I'M LITTERALLY RED ROOT GERARD WAY!! ------------------------------------------------- MASTER LIST UNDER CUT

MCR:

ALL: TRAUMA BRINGS LOVE AMONG OTHER THING CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO

P!ATD:

RYAN ROSS: MY KIND OF SABOTAGE IT MAY BE WRONG BUT IT FEELS RIGHT

[luis-serra-kennedy]

Chapters: 1/2

Fandom: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Jack Krauser, Leon S. Kennedy/Luis Serra

Characters: Leon S. Kennedy, Jack Krauser, Luis Serra

Additional Tags: Musician/Actor!Luis Serra, Songfic, Song: Don't Talk To Strangers (Rick Springfield), Infidelity, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Trans Leon S. Kennedy, Knifeplay, Vaginal Sex, Riding, Abuse, Semi-Public Sex, Unsafe Sex, Leon and Luis are both just stupid sluts, Luis Serra Speaks French, Luis gets his dick sucked in a recording booth, Luis also gets bent over a keyboard and pegged, Submissive Luis Serra, Dominant Leon S. Kennedy, Submissive Leon S. Kennedy, (He's dominant with Luis and submissive with Krauser), Smut, Song: Alyson (Rick Springfield, Lil bit of transhobia from krauser because he's awful in every possible way, Abusive Relationships, Mildly Dubious Consent, Coercion, Eventually leon will leave krauser's abusive ass i promise

Series: Part 1 of Homewrecker Luis

Summary:

Are you really a homewrecker if the “home” you're wrecking is more of a toxic dumpster fire?

OR

Leon doesn't realize he's in a toxic relationship and his boyfriend is bad in bed until he gets a taste of Luis.

[tappioca]

y’all ever re-read your own fic just to check if you missed something for your notes for the ending and you find some of the most “he just like me fr” lines you managed to write about your fave (thank u, muse)

link to it, if you’re into that kinda thing. mid as hell writing sorry but anyway heed the tags plz lol

[crowtrobotx]

Chrysalis Ch. 22 is up on AO3!

[citrine-elephant]

Chapter 4, my friends.

The Grizzled Grizzly Bear.

It has been hours since Leon went M.I.A. Captain Chris Redfield of the BSAA jumps into action soon after being swallowed by insecurity and after being tipped off by Agent Ingrid Hunnigan of the man's radio silence. He couldn't shake the omen within the missing agent's cryptic request for help, and now there was reason to head that warning. Guided by an unwavering loyalty, the soldier is drawn into the fray to investigate Leon's disappearance. Chris navigates his anxieties, and his feelings, into the mouth of Hell to ensure Leon's safe return.

[resident-rats]

Rating: Explicit

Summary: All alone on a military base, Leon makes an unconventional friend.