#luis is the white one

[cosmic-walkers]

leon being italian and luis being spanish like ....those are the two most likely and unlikely white euopean people to pair together, it makes them perfect.

who is more catholic out of the two? the only correct answer is luis, whereas leon is an agnostic ex catholic lmao

[lesbianwyllravengard]

Brown Hispanic (or Hispanic-coded) characters who an alarming amount of the fandom considers to be white

Like are y'all okay.

[sillystringsimpsons]

Hai!! What headcanons do you have for the capos (like Louie, Legs, and Johnny)? (If you don’t wanna share that’s totally fine <:3)

I would love to share! Here's some designs and basic headcanons I made for my AU :)))

If you have any specific questions I'd love to yap :3

Interactions HUGELY appreciated <3

[kingoftheclaudes]

Propaganda

Marquis Don Luis (Anthony Adverse) - Literally the only good thing about Anthony Adverse. Man is literally a peacock in human form who's good at sword-fighting. I stan men in breeches. Him and Gale Sondergaard were such good baddies!!

Paul Delambre (The White Tower) - He's such a sad little loser omg. Like they just left him out in the snow (couldn't be me lmao). Mad scrungle energy tho.

This is round one for The King of The Claudes tournament and other matchups can be found here!

Additional Propaganda under the cut!

Marquis Don Luis

Paul Delambre

[pikabysss]

My entry for day 8 of Serennedy Pride Week: the finale.

The final hold. Small art plus an ultimate ramble

Watch out! Black and white mild gore and spoilers for Resident Evil 4 2005 (even though I don't think I need to warn for both)

Luis death in Resident Evil 4 (2005)

I was really surprised when Leon rushed to Luis and grabbed his hand. It caught me off guard because I'm not used to the hand grabbing being portrayed so accurately to the american culture like that. I consume a lot of japanese media that prioritize japanese culture. Extensive hand holding in Japan is usually seen as romantic. That's the moment I started really to ship Luis and Leon.

However, with my biased view aside, this scene, even if abrupt, is so well orchestrated in Leon's body language. I could see all the care put in that scene more than any other scene in the game. I watched a war movie when I was younger. A man noticed his brother being shot and went to his side. He grabbed his hand with a strong grip and even went for some kind of kiss (something more like a CPR. It was a multicultural movie, but those men were americans.

Europeans and Americans are just more touchy overall than asians (this is based on my obseravtion of those culture.) So, when Leon strongly gripped Luis' hand, I later thought about that man that lost his brother in that movie. The way he hold his hand just showed how much he cared for him.

What really is special with Leon's personality, is that he acts cold, but he actually really care for human life. He is tourmented when the two cops died, when Krauser dies, when Mike dies... but having to see the death of Luis just before his eyes, just next to him, that's why he gripped strongly to his hand: he wanted to feel that human life until it dropped, make sure that Luis had the most comfortable death he could have had despite it being so unpromptus. Leon offers himself as his last human hold, acting as a family member or a lover for him.

Now, I don't know if you noticed, but after Luis gives his last breath, Leon is visibly frustrated or sad. He backed off, but he kept Luis' hand in his until he needed to let it go, getting too far from him. Leon doesn't do that with Krauser.

This scene is very touching despite being a bit sudden. The way Luis died just like that made me laugh, but the moment after of Leon holding Luis' hand, trying desperately to help, asking him not to talk so he could breath and live for a little while longer.... Leon, not wanting to let go of Luis' hand, all little details that are just so beautifully crafted. Too bad the build-up to it was disappointing. Still, the scene by itself stays beautiful

[leon-on-the-froggy-chair]

im telling yall i feel like Luis would really like those yeehaw ass fringe jackets

you know the ones

[bioshzrd]

Heya!

I was just wondering what your Resident Evil gender and sexuality HCs are, if you've got any?

Thank you! :)

I THOUGHT I ANSWERED THIS BUT IT MUST HAVE SLIPPED MY MIND OOPS

this is silly / mostly joking but explanations in tags , also every single character I like is trans in some way shape or form

[yurozo]

holidays headcanons (resident evil)

┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐ characters: chris, leon, jill, claire, rebecca, carlos, luis, ada, wesker warnings: mentions of alcohol, some swearing.

a/n: i know this is late but all the recent love for the restaurant au inspired me!! check that one out here! love u pookies and i hope you had a great holidays <3 if you want me to cover anyone else, or have any other suggestions for au's please let me know! └─── °∘❉∘° ───┘

chris redfield:

this man comes for one reason and one reason alone: the food. you best believe chris redfield is grabbing two plates piled sky-high and scarfing it down before the rest have even served themselves. because of a particular incident involving leon and a nerf gun, chris has been banished to the kids table for the foreseeable future. he gets to sit there with (baby) sherry in a shitty little plastic barbie chair that claire bought off amazon-- the legs are bowing under his weight and are clearly destined to snap during some point in the night. as for the games, chris takes no part in it. why? he's stone cold passed out in the lazyboy. i'm talking full on snoring, scratching at his chest, mouth open, and drooling asleep. nothing is waking that man up from his food coma, other than literally firing a gun three inches away from his ears.

as for you, chris softens a little bit. he'll reluctantly indulge whatever you want to do, even if he's grumbling about it a little the whole time. this man is a practical gift giver, unless claire gets involved and gets you something indulgent in chris' name. if it were up to chris alone, he's replacing whatever you have that's worn down or unusable. he just wants to see you comfortable and stress-free, and he really doesn't have the mind for other things.

leon kennedy:

respectfully, he's the typical white dad of the group. he eats a good amount of mashed potatoes and roast beef, downs a couple whiskeys, and he's out for the count. there's been a couple occasions that he's gotten a little too rowdy, and relentlessly barraged the dinner table with whatever one-liners or borderline traumatic stories that come to his mind. he's fine, he swears, it really was funny that time he almost got blown up.

god forbid sherry grows up and starts bringing partners around the place, leon takes it upon themselves to act like her personal bodyguard. he'll sit in an armchair and stare daggers at them every time they so much as touch her, and it takes a while for him to warm up to them. for the games, do NOT ask that man to play charades. honestly, it will just be embarrassing for the both of you.

leon really does try his best when it comes to you. his gifts are usually something you eyed while out with him somewhere, which he very sneakily bought while you weren't looking. however, he's downright terrible at hiding it for you if he buys it ahead of time. you have to just act surprised and loving about the whole thing, and leon's putty in your hands. there's always a hand around your waist when you're in the vicinity, and leon loves to brag about your title in casual conversations. (eg. "yeah, my wife/husband is a pretty good cook. it's no big deal")

jill valentine:

jill's been banned from helping in the kitchen for five years. it's not her fault, honestly, she got a little too distracted sharing war stories with the others that she forgot the yorkshires were still in the oven. she'll happily eat everything though, or bring a store-bought dessert if need be. every single year, she takes photos of chris passed out in the armchair until she can make a photo album to gift him. there's a framed photo of chris mid-fall after the barbie chair finally gave way that's hanging above the fireplace, courtesy of her. also likes to take lil sips of leons whiskey when he's not looking since he always brings the good stuff.

she claims that she doesn't get into the games, but she gets super intense about charades to the point that everyone's reluctant to team up with her. she's shouting answers like there's a ticking bomb that will go off when the time runs out, and she'll scold you if she thinks your acting performance wasn't oscar worthy. she's flinging around a beer can during the whole thing and nearly soaking everyone in the vicinity.

when you start coming around for the holidays, jill visibly relaxes. she can let a lot of her guard down, and everyone likes to give her shit about how lovesick and happy she becomes. she's also a victim of the practical gift giving trait, but occasionally she likes to buy you something just because she thinks you would look nice in it. but there's always an extra gift at home that she won't let you open in front of the others, she has to maintain some sort of dignity.

claire redfield:

her and rebecca are the only reasons this tradition goes on for as long as it does. rebecca does most of the logistics, claire is the one who keeps that ship running while it's happening. the two of them are such a scary pair when they want shit done, that everyone else just has to follow along. claire is the one that banished chris to the kids table, but still lingers around to keep an eye on sherry and make sure she's eating enough. when sherry's old enough to bring partners around, she's the welcoming one, and will secretly jab leon in the ribs whenever he starts acting up.

claire likes to experiment with the games every single year, usually after incidents or fights break out. white elephant got banned after four different people just bought gift cards to the gun store (im assuming this exists there, im canadian). she's shaking the box of names aggressively at anyone who tries to get away, and will tip chris right out of that damn chair. they rarely get to be together with all the missions, so help her god they're going to enjoy it.

you're the first person claire actually brings around. sure, she's had relationships, but bringing you around to family christmas is a big deal. and don't worry, everyone else will tell you just how much of a big deal it is. you're the first person she tells everything too, and on the drive there, she's giving you a full run down on what she thinks of everyone (claire has very strong opinions). for gifts, she loves to buy you things. her favourite gifts are outfits either you can wear on her motorcycle, or matching clothes she painted herself.

rebecca chambers:

the holidays are a stressful time for her. not only does she have to cook for the most ravenous group of people that definitely do not cook for themselves enough, but she has to make sure they don't kill each other during it. despite that, dinner is always amazing, and the desserts are just to die for. she takes a special pride in her desserts, and if a couple extra supplements sneak themselves into the dinner, she definitely does not know anything about that. one of the few things that gets her through the holidays is the extra sweet hot chocolate and egg nog concoction that she makes for herself. leon tried it one time by accident and nearly gagged at just how sweet it was.

rebecca is very into the games and gifts section. it's the one time she gets to sit down and relax a little bit, and she does love how intense everyone gets about the whole thing. she's just happy that everyone can get together, and maybe relax after everything that's happened. despite her enthusiasm and smarts, she is downright terrible at charades. her answers are always way too complex for the minute they have to guess whatever she's miming. how the hell is anyone supposed to guess t-011 from hand gestures?

rebecca is by far the best gift giver out of the bunch. whatever she buys you is well-thought out, personal, and helpful. she likes to have you hang around the kitchen while she cooks, and will always feed you little spoonfuls under the guise of taste-testing. really, she just wants to make sure you eat, especially before chris can get his grubby little hands on the entrees.

luis sera:

leon invited him a total of one time, and luis had just become a permanent fixture of the whole thing. you best believe luis is bringing a karaoke machine and performing bad renditions of holiday music complete with an improvised choreography. he tried to bring leon into it one time, and nearly got roundhoused so hard that rebecca had to take them both out like misbehaving dogs. despite that, he always brings around a home-cooked entree to dinner, which rebecca appreciated greatly. luis also has the tendency to spin great tales about what he did during the year, which are definitely all lies.

in part two of the party, luis likes to be a little tipsy for the whole thing. who can blame him, he likes a party. just don't get him talking about his work, he'll talk about it for hours with increasingly complicated language that only rebecca can understand. like her too, he also gets really into the games section. luis is mentally keeping track of the stores, and will argue with anyone that tries to get the one up on him. i mean, he really deserved the point on the last one, so what if he buffs the numbers a little?

luis love to brag about you to all the others, you're his lovely partner and somehow agreed to date him, how could he not? his gifts for you are always a little extravagant, because he wants everyone else to know just what a good boyfriend he is. you're also the reason why he got chewed out over pda during the holidays. luis is just not the kind of man that can keep his hands off you, it's the season of romance.

carlos oliveira:

he's the one person who rebecca allows in the kitchen. carlos is always willing to help, and he'll even do it with a cheesy little apron on. it just makes his ass look nice, and these people deserve a treat on the holidays. god forbid carlos, leon, and jill are sitting together for dinner. they're throwing around the worst jokes known to man, and cackling loudly the whole time, especially if they're a couple beers deep. he's used to a big family, so this kind of gathering is right in his element. he makes sure there's enough food and drink for everyone, even if he's next to chris in eating it all.

another victim of getting too into the games. he likes to have fun and joke around, so he's definitely energetic, but doesn't take it too seriously. carlos is ultimately there to have a good time, and if a pretty woman is telling him to play, he's definitely not going to say no. he's relaxing back in his chair, beer in hand, yelling out suggestions and laughing loudly.

for you, he's just happy to bring you around and show you a good time. you don't have to worry about a damn thing during the holidays, carlos is doing everything so you can just lay back and enjoy the festivities. your drink is empty? carlos is already up and heading to the fridge. you want more dessert? there's another plate already in your hands.

ada wong:

no one really knows the reason she's here. people suspect she found out the location through her own means and just started showing up. or that wesker invited her for insurance reasons. she'll offer to help in the kitchen, and they always turn her down because she's definitely overdressed and they don't want to risk her getting dirty. during the dinner, she just like to witness the inevitable trash fire, or chatting quietly with luis about whatever work drama happening with him.

she's not playing any games. don't ask her. ada will give you a mean glare until you leave her alone. she wants to sit there and watch the wreckage and drink her little drink, she is not playing charades even if there's a gun to her head. get her to gossip though? she will happily engage in telling you dirty secrets about everyone else ( no one can figure out how the hell she knows these things).

ada's rigging the whole thing so you win. she wants to see you happy, and you'll be even happier when you see what she's got you. again, there's no way to tell exactly how she knows what you wanted, but you can be sure you're getting it. and it's in a pretty box, carefully put together and wrapped with a red bow. there's also a mistletoe in her pocket, for when she can finally get you alone.

albert wesker:

no one knows who invited him. no one knows where he is the whole time (he's in the bedroom, pointedly avoiding everyone else). he'll come down to dinner, eat his food, say nothing, and go back upstairs. he's also not going to engage in any sort of ugly sweater tradition, he's wearing all black, and god help anyone who tries to get him to wear anything else. wesker will speak up about his open disdain for chris, but it's quickly shut down by rebecca before he can start a fight.

he doesn't really come around all that often. he prefers to do his work, have his own celebration, and pretend all these people don't exist. after certain events, he becomes a bit of an unspoken topic amongst everyone else-- just a person that used to come around thats' been replaced by their new family.

the only way he'll do anything for the holidays is if you're there. yes, he's going to complain and say he has better things to do, and he would much rather have your own private celebration, but he'll reluctantly do it if you bother him enough. he's giving you his present in private and away from prying eyes, because that relationship is just between you two, not these other people unworthy of even looking at you. whatever you tell him you want, he'll buy. money's no object for him, and anything that will make you happy while he works on other things.

[zer0pm]

Imagine both Leon and Luis offering you their jackets when you start shivering.

“You cold?”

“A little bit, but nothing I can’t handle.”

You say this with your teeth chattering and it was clear on Leon’s unamused face that he wasn’t buying it. The blonde sighs, hiding a slight smirk before his lips return to his characteristic frown.

“Here,” he says, shrugging out of his thick, fur-lined jacket. In doing so, the strong definition of muscles on his arms and chest came into full display and you couldn’t help but note every sculpted line. Those years of secret government training did wonders for his physique and the tight navy shirt left little to the imagination. Your overactive thoughts nearly run wild when his arms flexed out of his sleeves.

Remembering yourself, you shake your head. “Thanks, but won’t you be freezing?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Leon says with a slight smile, his gentle tone echoing yours when you tried to save face in a surprisingly teasing manner. For as long as you’ve known the blond, he was rarely warm and gentle. His stern, straight-laced demeanor and dry sense of humor often overshadows his kinder, sociable qualities. So to see him so openly considerate was a rare treat. This unexpected side of him stirred feelings inside you that are not at all unwelcome, but you found yourself at a loss for words.

He takes his jacket by the collar and offers it to you with an encouraging look that said that he wasn’t going to take “no” for an answer. You breathe out an air of defeat, reaching towards him. Against your will, your eyes roamed over the thick veins of his strong forearm and bicep appreciatively, and you tried to recover by quickly looking up. That was a mistake. He was no longer wearing a grin, but the heat within his eyes intensifies when they meet yours. You felt your cheeks burning under his knowing gaze.

Your fingertips (unintentionally) brush against his as you grabbed hold of the faux fur and was about to accept the weight of the clothing in your hands until you felt something warm and heavy drop around your shoulders. It took you by surprise and you look over to your side to see Luis standing next to you- sans leather jacket.

The Spaniard had his signature lopsided smile on his handsome face as he adjusted the stitched leather around you, making sure that it would not fall. It gave you an opportunity to look him over as well. You knew he wore a white-buttoned shirt, but now that he wasn’t wearing his jacket, you can see how nicely the fabric fitted on his frame.

For a man who considers himself the brains of your group, he was impressively cut. While Luis wasn’t as strongly built as Leon, he had a lean, well-defined waist that would have otherwise been hidden from sight with his jacket on. The sleeves of the shirt hugs his long arms nicely and his broad frame tautly stretches the thin creases that ran across the fabric, accentuating the exposed portion of his scarred chest. It became apparent to you then that Luis left the few buttons undone for reasons beyond just visual appeal.

The dark-haired man chuckled beneath his breath as he caught you staring. “Take mine, my friend. I’ve kept it warm- just for you.”

“Luis,” you started, trying to keep a straight face, “aren’t you worried about getting sick?” Your consideration came from a genuine place of concern and it showed in your voice, but you couldn’t argue the relief you felt wrapped inside the warmth provided by his jacket. You thought the leather would do little against the chilly weather, but surprisingly, it felt wonderful on you- most certainly because Luis’ heat formerly occupied it and the thought of you surrounded in said heat made your already feverish blush deepen.

“Y no te preocupes por mí.” He assures confidently. “I grew up in these parts. This weather doesn’t affect me one bit, so I insist.”

The man doesn’t give you an opportunity to respond.

“Unless…” Luis pauses for a second, playfulness glinting in his grey eyes. He then steps closer to your front. The movement forces you to reflexively let go of Leon’s jacket, leaving it to hang in the other man’s hand to allow room for the Spaniard to step in between you. Now only Luis stands in your full view, his eyes locking yours, all while maintaining his charming grin. “We come in close. Like this.”

The devilish man wraps a daring arm around your shoulders, nudging you closer to him but not forceful enough where you couldn’t pull away if you wanted to. You subconsciously didn’t want to and allowed him to bring you in, stopping to where your chests are merely a hair’s breath away from pressing against one another.

“This way we can keep each other warm,” he continues with a wink. “A good idea, ¿sí?”

Your ears pick up an annoyed scoff and you look over Luis’ broad shoulder. Leon stood with arms crossed, his bored eyes casted to the side as if finding something interesting in the distance. He already had his jacket back on, much to your disappointment.

Before you, Luis wears an amused smirk, addressing the blond without looking at him with faux intrigue, his focused gaze still resting entirely on you. “Something funny, Sancho?”

Leon ignores the obvious jab, “Just making mental bets on how long you’ll last before you start running your mouth. So far, I’m leaning towards two minutes.”

This made the Spaniard take a step back to turn his body sideways, arm still resting around you. Luis hums thoughtfully.

“Such harsh words for a squire,” he dismisses the counter with a casual shrug, squeezing your shoulder. At the time, you thought it to be a warm gesture, not once detecting the possessive undertones blatantly on display at the action. “Never underestimate a knight’s resilience. Or his endurance.”

If you had paid attention, you would have noticed the two men glaring at one another. You would have caught Leon’s challenging snarl and Luis’ taunting gaze. But no, you were too busy settling into Luis’ jacket, slipping your arms into the sleeves and zipping it closed around your form.

Ashley’s voice calls out to the three of you, announcing that she found something. Without a second thought, you start stepping towards her direction, separating yourself from Luis’ heat. You missed the frown he wore at your absence and by the time you looked back at him, he had on his usual charming smirk.

“Thanks for the jacket, Luis. I’ll give it back, I promise.” You say graciously, causing his grin to widen to a genuine smile. You then stop before Leon, also offering him a grateful look as you patted his chest. It was meant to be an amicable touch but the contact sent jolts of electricity from your palm to your chest. His body exuded an inviting warmth that made you hesitant to withdraw as you spoke trying to keep your voice level. “And I appreciate the thought, Leon. You’re always so reliable.”

You missed the subtle redness in his cheeks then too, willing yourself to give space and continuing to move to Ashley’s location. Both men are left staring after you, longing evident in the pools of silver and blue. After what seemed like an eternity of tense silence, Luis is the first to speak up.

“Dos minutos, mi culo.” He grumbles, a hint of amused irritation in his thick accented voice.

Leon snorts in turn. “That was generous.”

[vangelini]

Boyfriend For The Night (Part 2) | Spencer Reid x Reader

Part 1, Finale!

Summary: After a few too many drinks, Spencer takes you back to your place, and you say something you might regret when you sober up…

Tags: fluff, more pining idiots, BAU!Reader, Fem!Reader.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption

Words: 2.3k (whoopsie)

|

“Reid is my boyfriend, for the night,” you smiled, taking a sip of your drink. It was, supposedly, just for the night, but Spencer liked the sound of that.

And, admittedly, so did you.

“Just for the night?” Morgan laughed, his bright, white smile teasing you two.

“Well, we’ll see how he does and go from there,” you joked. Reid couldn’t help but laugh a little at your comment.

“Well, I intend to impress,” he rubbed his thumb along the back of your hand, laughing under his breath while looking down at you. Penelope hit Morgan on the shoulder, drawing his attention toward Reid’s little look of love. He just laughed, turning back to his conversation with Hotch.

“Those two are so screwed.”

The night went on as one usually does. Some of the team split off into different games, dancing, or their own little conversations. You and Spencer were of the latter group.

“I can’t explain WHY The Princess Bride is my favorite movie, it just is!” You feigned defensiveness, leaning into the seat behind you, laughing. “Why don’t your profile it out of me,” you smiled at Spencer. He laughed, taking a drink of his club soda.

“Fine,” he set his drink down, turning to you. “I think…” he leaned down, leveling his eyes with yours, glancing between both of your irises. “I think it’s probably because, ever since you were a child, you’ve been escaping with fantasy,” he sat up. “It would be safest to assume you identify with Buttercup, that you long for someone close to you to come sweep you off your feet and solve all your problems,” he narrowed his eyes. You looked gently up at him. “But,” he sighed, leaning back. “Knowing you, I’d say you like Westley,” he smiled. “You grew up less wealthy and have worked your whole life to protect the people you love. It’s a movie that makes you believe there’s hope in the world,” he took a long sip of his drink.

Your jaw hung open in shock. “When did you learn so much about The Princess Bride,” you smiled, leaning your head on your hand.

“Garcia made me watch it,” he shrugged, laughing.

“Okay, fine…” You took a sip of your drink, head spinning a little. “So what’s your favorite movie, then, hm?”

He didn’t hesitate before responding, like he had clearly been wanting to talk about it. “L’age D’or,” he spoke with his hands. “It’s a-a seminal surrealist film that was actually co-written by Salvador Dali,” he smiled wide. “It used Dali’s classic absurd style and shocking imagery to critique the bourgeoisie and the Catholic Church. It, uh, was so controversial, actually, that it led to riots and bans,” he continued on about vignettes and taboos, but you just stared at him with a smile, eyes glazed over with pure adoration. Some time after he went on about Luis Buñuel’s other works, you realized you were absolutely whipped for this nerd.

You must have been off in la-la-land, because Reid got a little closer to you to get your attention. “Are you okay?” You snapped up.

“What, yeah, I’m good,” you smiled, smoothing down your slacks. “I’m gonna get another drink,” you smiled nervously, standing up a little too quickly. You stumbled a little, causing Reid to reach out and steady you with his hands. Morgan noticed.

“Hey, Pretty Girl, how many of those have you had?” He gestured to your glass.

“Probably too many,” you smiled half heartedly, realizing you were likely a little more than tipsy. You also started to notice how tightly Spencer’s hands steadied you. “It’s getting late, anyways, I’ll go call a cab,” you started to reach for your phone, but Spencer stepped in.

“Hey, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Pretty Boy is right,” Morgan added. “Someone should take you home.”

“Guys, Im an adult, I don’t need a babysitter,” you laughed, speech slightly slurred. Yeah, you were definitely drunk.

“It’s fine, I can take her home,” Spencer gave a tight-lipped smile to Morgan. He turned to you, ignoring Morgan’s small, concerned smirk. “It’s not safe to go home alone while inebriated,” he took his hands off of you, and you noticed how he flexed them a little. Interesting. You would have to analyze that in the morning, maybe when you weren’t so intoxicated. He pulled his crossbody bag over himself and grabbed your hand, leading you from the booth. “I’m still your boyfriend, for the night,” he smiled.

You couldn’t help but giggle at him.

“Okay, okay, whatever, pretty boy,” your hand tightened around his. The nickname felt different, coming from your lips, he thought. Somehow, it seemed like less of a nickname and more of an observation. He shook it off. “I don’t live far from here, we can walk,” you spoke as you both stepped out of the bar, the biting cold air hitting your skin. You wrapped your arms around Spencer’s, his biceps wrapped up nicely by his cotton sweater. You smiled, and, you couldn’t see it, but so did he.

“Sounds good,” he barely squeaked out, just content to be settling into your touch.

The walk was peaceful, passing by a river or a park, street lights illuminating the sidewalk. They cast a warm glow on the night, shining in Spencer’s eyes, glimmering as he glanced down at you stumbling by his side. The breeze was slightly shielded by Spencer’s towering figure. He relished the feeling of your grip, a sense of security he didn’t know he craved. And, for a moment, it really did feel like you two were a couple.

He helped you up the steps to you apartment. “Such a gentleman,” you joked. He laughed lowly.

“I’m trying to make sure you don’t eat concrete, but if you’d rather I didn’t-”

“I’m kidding, i’m kidding~” you slurred out, pulling out your keys. It danced around the lock a few times, since your vision was blurred, but with some help from your temporary boyfriend, the door pushed open and you were met with the warmth of your apartment. You couldn’t help but sigh, throwing yourself down on the couch. Spencer locked the door behind the two of you, watching you kick off your shoes.

“You should take your contacts out before you fall asleep,” he put his bag down. “Sleeping with them in can increase your risk of infection up to eight times,” he more than scurried over to your kitchen, filling you up a glass of water.

“Speeence, that’s so much work,” you threw a throw blanket around your arms.

“I know, sweetheart, but I don’t want you coming in to work tomorrow with dry eyes and corneal damage,” he set the glass down on the coffee table, kneeling in front of you. You were so tired, you didn’t notice the nickname. He didn’t seem to, either. “Come on, you need to take them out,” he reached for your arm, taking a hold of your wrist. His voice was gentle, laced with a genuine concern, and his touch was reverent. As you looked down to where his sturdy hands held you, you realized, for a moment, how deeply you cared for him.

He knew alcohol made your inhibitions nonexistent, but he didn’t expect you to start crying. “Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong,” he grabbed the side of your face, wiping a tear off your cheek. His hands were just so soft, it made you tear up more.

“I-I don’t know,” you sobbed out. You really didn’t know.

“Hey, it’s okay, drink this,” he handed you the glass of water. As you took a sip, he moved his hands to your knees, soothing small circles into them. “Why are you sad?”

You sniffled, looking down at his face. His brows knitted together, eyes beaming up into your own. You could have SWORN you saw his heart beating against his sweater. “Because I love you being my boyfriend, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t,” you were a little embarrassed, but you were drunk, so it barely mattered.

Spencer’s heart rate spiked, and a rosy tint started rising in his face. “You don’t mean that,” he soothed, voice just above a whisper.

“I do,” you looked straight into his eyes. They were glazed over in something you couldn’t describe and probably never would.

“According to research, a-about 63% of people have admitted to saying something they regret while intoxicated,” he reasoned out, holding onto your hand.

“Another study found that 54% of those confessions are things they genuinely feel, Spence,” he realized you clearly weren’t out-of-it enough to not hit him with his own statistics. He couldn’t speak, and he really couldn’t think either. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, eyes dancing around your face. His heart jumped up and down as an innocent desire swept through his veins.

Did you really mean that? Was he not the only one who stole small glances in the bullpen? Was he not alone in his heartbreak when watching someone else flirt with you? Surely, this was a symptom of the alcohol. Maybe-

“It’s so hot in here,” you broke the silence, breaking away from him. He swallowed hard, eyes moving hesitantly away from your face.

“I’ll uh, I’ll change your thermostat,” he stood up, moving towards the hall.

“Thank you, Spence,” you lied down, sniffling once more.

He gave up on having you take out your contacts or change your clothes. He just spread another blanket over you, shutting off the lights. He even took the liberty of setting your alarm. Before he left, he heard you mumble a small, “Good night, Spence.”

He smiled, sighing.

“Good night.”

—

“Hey, Pretty Girl, didn’t have too much fun last night, did you?” Morgan laughed. He couldn’t see you rolling your eyes under the sunglasses that shielded you from another migraine.

“Ha-ha,” you set your stuff down. “That’s me laughing at your funny joke.”

“Honestly, I’m shocked you didn’t show up with Boy Genius, this morning,” he crossed his arms. “Leaving together from the bar, going back to your place-“

“Derek, nothing happened,” you huffed. At least, you THOUGHT nothing happened. The events of the last twelve hours were an honest blur.

“Okay, okay, I yield,” he threw up his hands, going back to his own work. You turned to see Spencer walking in at about the same time.

He had replayed your words in his mind about a thousand times, maybe more. Did you really mean it when you said you loved having him as your boyfriend? Maybe you said that to every guy who took you home drunk. He thought going through all the possibilities would make it easier to face you, in the morning. He proved himself wrong.

You pulled off your glasses, standing up. As he sat down at his desk, you leaned over it.

“I wanted to say thank you for last night,” you spoke softly, not out of secret, but out of vulnerability.

“It’s no trouble,” he smiled. “I just wanted to make sure you got home safe,” he looked up at you, moving some files around his desk.

“I really, really appreciate it,” you spoke apologetically. “I wasn’t too much… trouble, was I?” You smiled nervously. “When i’m inebriated, my inhibitions tend to…” you trailed off, trying to find the words.

“Disappear?” He smiled, laughing a little.

“Yeah…”

“You weren’t any trouble,” he reassured you, voice steady. “Actually, it was,” he smiled. “It was nice.”

“Nice?” you laughed, feeling your headache melt away at his soft voice.

“Being able to take care of you,” he defended playfully. “I don’t usually get to do that; it’s usually the other way around,” he tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear, looking up at your soft smile. “There was something I wanted to talk about, though…” Your heart skipped a beat.

“Crap, did I do something weird last night? I’m so sorry, if I did, I never-“

“No, no, nothing like that,” he laughed nervously. “You uhm…” he grabbed the back of his neck. He wanted to know if you really felt the same way he did. He wanted to know if you would hold his hand like that while sober. He wanted you. “Would you like to, maybe, get together sometime again?” He squeaked out, smiling shyly. “Maybe, this time, without the alcohol?” You smiled at his offer.

“I absolutely would, Spence,” you giggled out, tapping a nail habitually on the screen dividing your desks. He sighed a sigh of relief.

“Cool,” he pursed his lips together in a smile.

“Cool,” you mirrored him subconsciously.

Maybe it wasn’t just for the night.

(‼️💕THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO REQUESTED PART TWO. REQUESTS ALWAYS OPEN💕‼️)

[blue-eyed-beastie]

A Closer Look at Belle's Book: Part II

In Part I, I went into some detail about the illustration inside Belle's book, but now I want to turn the page, so to speak.

Thanks to the magic of 4K, I was able to zoom in on some details in Beauty and the Beast that I had never noticed before, and this time I wanted to see what story Belle was reading. I've seen theories that it was either foreshadowing Aladdin or referencing Sleeping Beauty, and I myself noticed that it bears some artistic resemblance to Snow White... but it turns out that it has nothing to do with Disney, or its fairy tales.

It's something else entirely, and it's in French!

After zooming in and studying each frame, I managed to make out the following text:

une languissante sirene! Enfin, il sera bientôt heureux, si c'est là ce qui doit causer son bonheur. Je sais que je suis agréable à regarder, puisque j'y ai du plaisir moi-même, et de ce plaisir je ne priverai pas mon mari, au contraire. Je ne sais si je l'aimerai, je l'espère; mais je veux qu'il m'aime lui, et je ferai pour lui plaire tout ce qui lui plaira. Ah! chère Adélaïde, je suis pleine de rêves absurdes et de pensées contradictoires! Je songe à des choses qui me semblent à la fois douces et vilaines, et j'ai des imaginations qui me font rougir en même temps que pleurer! Au moins, je ne m'ennuie pas. Je vis plus en une heure de ces journées que l'an passé je ne vécus en toute l'année. Chaque heure me renouvelle, me grandit et m'épanouit. Je me semble un rosier qui fleur rirait à vue d’œil, je suis fraîche et parfumée; je suis légère et forte: j'attends le bonheur. Paul est plus beau que je ne l'avais encore jamais tu. Il est pâle avec de grands yeux pleins de fièvre et d'amour. Je le trouve sublime quand il s'agenouille près de moi pour me regarder comme en prière. J'ai envie de le prière aussi, parfois, et de coucher ma joue sur ses genoux, mais quand j'ai cette envie-la, je me fâché contre moi-meme et je boude Paul.

Which, roughly translated into English, means:

a languid siren! Finally, he will soon be happy, if that is what will make him happy. I know that I am pleasant to look at, since I take pleasure in it myself, and of this pleasure I will not deprive my husband, on the contrary. I do not know if I will love him, I hope so; but I want him to love me, and I will do whatever he pleases to please him. Ah! dear Adelaide, I am full of absurd dreams and contradictory thoughts! I think of things that seem to me both sweet and ugly, and I have fantasies that make me blush and cry at the same time! At least, I am not bored. I live more in one hour of these days than I lived in the whole year last year. Each hour renews me, makes me grow and blossom. I seem to myself a rosebush that blooms laughing before my eyes, I am fresh and fragrant; I am light and strong: I await happiness. Paul is more handsome than I have ever seen him before. He is pale with big eyes full of fever and love. I find him sublime when he kneels down next to me to look at me as if in prayer. I want to pray to him too, sometimes, and to lay my cheek on his knees, but when I have this desire, I get angry with myself and I sulk at Paul.

By the way, there is one more sentence (maybe even two) at the bottom of the page that is partially obscured by Belle's shoulder and right hand. It may or may not be important to the rest of the excerpt, but for completion's sake, I'll share it here:

Il est ... maintenir un homme dans les ...

Which translates to:

He is ... to keep a man in the ...

Intriguing, isn't it? What was she trying to say?

Overall, the author appears to be an unwed woman dreaming of her future marriage to a man named Paul. Her confidante is someone named Adelaide, but I suspect she is actually writing to herself. Regardless, she is either betrothed to Paul or she longs to be, since she calls him her husband. Perhaps it is an arranged marriage? She goes on to dwell upon his handsomeness, and how she longs to be close to him, but then she gets angry at herself for feeling this way. The last line of the passage is incomplete, but my best guess is that the author is saying that Paul is not to blame for her sulking, so it is not right to keep a man in the dark, i.e. ignorant. I could be wrong, though. In any case, she is conflicted about her feelings on the matter. You could even say that her feelings are "new, and a bit alarming".

I can see why the filmmakers chose this passage for Belle's book.

It may not be a fairy tale, but it certainly has elements from the film. There are references to beauty, roses, imagination, and eyes filled with love, and passion.

Belle:

"Oh, isn't this amazing? It's my favorite part because—you’ll see Here's where she meets Prince Charming But she won't discover that it's him 'til Chapter Three!"

Do the lyrics match the story hinted at on the page itself? No, but I really respect the filmmakers for going out of their way to include this kind of detail in the film. They could have taken the easy way out, by writing out something like "Once upon a time" to echo the opening narration, or used "Lorem ipsem" Latin filler, or even meaningless brush strokes just to fill the page... but they didn't. They chose something in French that Belle herself might have liked to read. And I think that's really cool.

[fratttymatty]

Roots Changed

(All characters are 18+)

Ryan Thornton had always been the quiet, bookish kid. At 18, he was still the same shy, nerdy teenager who spent most of his time buried in science fiction novels, comic books, and the occasional video game. Ryan had come to terms with his place in life: an outsider in high school, an openly gay teen with few friends and even fewer social opportunities. His world was small but comfortable, a safe little bubble in the predominantly white suburb of San Diego where he’d lived his whole life.

But when his mom got a new job and the family moved across the city to a much more diverse, predominantly Latino neighborhood, Ryan didn’t know what to expect. The change was jarring. The new school was like nothing he’d known — crowded, full of energy, and with a culture that felt loud and foreign. The kids here were different, the language they spoke, the way they dressed, the confidence they carried — it was all so much more alive than what Ryan was used to.

In the first few days, Ryan stayed under the radar. He was determined to finish high school without any drama, just getting through the final year before heading to college. But that plan quickly unraveled when a group of the popular kids — the jocks and cheerleaders — took notice of him.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. He tried to keep his head down, but he couldn’t ignore the whispers in the halls, the way people looked at him — the way they sized him up. His pale skin, messy blond hair, awkward stance — all of it screamed “outsider.” It didn’t help that Ryan was the only openly gay kid in the school, and he often felt like an alien in the sea of confident, straight students.

One afternoon, during lunch, the inevitable happened. He was sitting alone at a table when Luis, the captain of the football team, and Sofia, the head cheerleader, approached him with their usual entourage. They towered over him, their presence intimidating, but Ryan couldn’t find the words to excuse himself.

Luis looked down at him, a smug grin on his face. “Hey, you’re the new guy, right?”

Ryan swallowed hard. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“You don’t really fit in here, huh?” Sofia’s voice wasn’t unkind, but it was sharp. She appraised him like a project. “You’re a little too... quiet for this place. Too nerdy.”

Ryan felt his face flush. He had been used to this kind of thing before, but not quite like this. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wanting to disappear.

Luis smirked. “Well, we can help with that. Make you more... like us.” He exchanged a quick glance with Sofia, who gave a small nod.

“I don’t really—” Ryan began to protest, but before he could finish his sentence, they grabbed him by the arms. He struggled, but the group was too strong. Their laughter was loud and mocking, echoing in his ears as they pulled him away from the lunch table, past the curious eyes of the other students, and out to the school parking lot.

“What the hell is going on?” Ryan managed to say, panic setting in as they shoved him into the back of a van.

“We’re gonna make you one of us, gringo,” Luis said, the edge to his voice unmistakable.

Ryan’s heart pounded as the van started moving. “What are you doing? Let me out of here!” But the more he shouted, the less anyone seemed to care. They ignored him, speaking in rapid Spanish, laughing, joking, as if they’d done this before.

The van came to a stop in a neighborhood unfamiliar to Ryan, and they led him into a house that felt more like a base of operations than a home. An older man with tattoos covering his arms stood waiting for them, his expression serious, as though this was just another job.

“Sit,” the man said, gesturing toward a chair in the middle of the room. “We’ve got work to do.”

Ryan’s heart raced in his chest, but he was powerless to fight back. They tied him down, but it wasn’t painful; it was more like they were preparing him for something. The man — who spoke little — went to work, using strange tools and substances on him, altering his appearance in ways that made Ryan’s head spin. His skin, once pale and freckled, slowly darkened, turning a rich olive tone. His features shifted subtly — his jawline more defined, his nose more pronounced. But it wasn’t just his skin that changed.

The most dramatic transformation happened to his hair. Ryan’s once-messy, light brown curls were smoothed out, darkening into a deep, glossy brown. They styled it into a perfectly straight, sharp middle part. It was perfect, almost too perfect. His hair, which had always been unruly, now lay in neat, controlled waves on either side of his head, framing his face in a way that made him look... different.

When the process was finished, they released him from the chair, and Ryan was led to a mirror. He barely recognized the person staring back at him. The face was familiar, but the features were sharper, darker. His hair — sleek and controlled — was no longer his own. The new, confident posture, the athletic build, the deep brown eyes looking back at him — it was like he was staring at someone else.

Luis stood behind him, clapping him on the back with a grin. “Welcome to the team, hermano,” he said, his voice low and proud.

Ryan — or whatever was left of him — looked at himself in the mirror. The old Ryan Thornton was gone, replaced by someone else. Someone new. Someone who looked like he could be a football player. Someone who looked like he belonged here, in this world.

Luis wasn’t finished. “You’re Mateo Hernandez now. We’re not calling you Ryan anymore. You’re one of us, hermano.”

Mateo Hernandez. The name felt strange at first, foreign even, but when he said it aloud, it felt right, like it had always been his. Mateo felt stronger, more confident. He felt like someone who had a place in the world — a world where people like him didn’t get pushed around, a world where his old self didn’t matter.

Over the next few days, Mateo settled into his new life with surprising ease. His old identity, his old life as Ryan Thornton, began to fade. The change was too thorough. The way he spoke was different now. His accent was smoother, more natural, the slang coming to him effortlessly. His new friends, the jocks, the cheerleaders, they accepted him without hesitation. He was one of them now, and they treated him like family.

It didn’t take long before Mateo found himself walking the halls of his new high school with the same confident swagger as Luis or any of the other jocks. He laughed, joked, and participated in everything — the football games, the parties, the casual flirting with the girls in his classes. It all felt so easy, so right. The old Mateo, the quiet, awkward kid who once spent his days hiding in the library, was gone.

Mateo Hernandez was a high school jock. He was strong, he was popular, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel like he was pretending. He was who he was supposed to be.

And as for Ryan Thornton?

Well, Mateo didn’t even remember who that was anymore.

Mateo Hernandez had found his place. And he wouldn’t change it for anything.

[writingwisterias]

Day 9: Predator/Prey

Las Plagas! Leon Kennedy x AFAB! Reader Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Las Plagas, Pred/Prey, Dub- Con, Dom Leon, Slight Breeding Kink, Infected Leon, Rough Sex Masterlist

The castle teryifying enough with the dark hallways, the eerie groan that it made as the wind blew through the cracks. Let alone with all of the enemies that could be around any corner. Or the one currently chasing you. 

Your heart pounded in your chest as you continued to run, fear breezing over your skin in goosebumps as his dark chuckles echoed down the hallway. You weren’t sure what had gotten into him, his eyes darkened, black inky veins spread throughout his skin. You had both been kidnapped in the village according to Luis. However, Luis said only one of you had been infected and couldn't't see who it was during the scuffle, it wasn't clear until now who the person was.

Leon’s grin was sickening as he continued to follow you, chasing you out of the castle away from the room you were hoping to find Ashley in. “Leon stop-” You yelled as you watched him kick open the door you had just shut. He didn’t respond, only increasing his pace. It was humiliating how fast you were sprinting away from him compared to his stroll. 

The cold hair hit you hard as you pushed the large double doors open, stumbling into the maze that was located in the courtyard. Your breath was visible in front of you, the clouds a stark white compared to the darkness of the maze. The hedges russled not helping you calm your nerves as you jumped at every sound. Leon chuckled lowly. You spun around unable to pinpoint the exact location. Your hands shook as you reached for your gun that was normally attached to your hip, cursing silently as you remembered he stole it from you in your first confrontation with him in this new mindset. You could barely see where you were going, the lanterns that were placed around barely did anything.

You waited, listening for anything. Silence only greeted you back. You were sure if it was a comforting thing or made you feel worse. “Where are you going little lamb?” Leon called out, his footsteps now audible. You gasped, holding your hand over your mouth to try and mute the noise. Your steps were near silent, arms tucked as close as you could get them in fear of rustling the leaves. “It’s no fun you hiding like this, I’m not going to hurt you” 

If it wasn’t for the unnerving glare he gave you before you ran off you would have believed him. The maze seemed to never end, each turn more terrifying than the last. His chuckle was louder as you crept around the corner, causing you to freeze in your tracks. His arm was barely visible to an untrained eye from where it was just poking out from around the next corner. You were close. Too close. You hoped the longer this game went on the more inclined the virus would be to drop its hold on him. Which meant hiding from him for as long as you could, or getting far enough away you could at least ensure Ashley’s safety. 

Your foot scuffed against some rubble.“I heard that” He spoke. His voice was loud meaning he wasn’t too far away. You swore your heart was going to beat its way out of your chest, with how fast it was going. The next movements were carefully calculated stepping over any rubble, your concentration purely focused on the ground. Until a hand clamped around your wrist, tugging you backwards. You tripped against the floor causing you to tumble into him. Your hands sprawled out on his chest, your heart dropped at the feel of the compression shirt. A small part of you wished it was the merchant coming to save you. 

Leon now had black veins littered everywhere cascading down his body like water droplets. His hair was sweaty, his pupils blown out wide as he stared down at you with those piercing blue eyes. “Found you” He smirked, lowering his head towards your neck. You flinched as his nose made contact, small puffs of air causing goosebumps to rise as he breathed in your scent. His grip increased almost bruising as he refused to let you go. You twisted and turned desperately trying to free yourself from him as he pulled you closer, his nose now nudging against your pulse point. “Leon- stop” You whimpered, pain shooting up your arm his grip now stopping your frantic movements. “You want this too. I can smell it.” 

“Smell what? What are you on about Leon-” 

He cut you off as his hand began to roam your side, breathless gasps leaving your lips as it finally began to cup your breast. He was gentle with them compared to the hand he had on your wrist. Your sounds were like music to his ears as he continued to grope you. Those pretty little whimpers turned into whines as his thumb grazed over your nipple. “And to think you were running from this” he smirked, pushing you to the ground. Your hands shot out to catch your fall, a gasp leaving your lips as they scrapped along the gravel. Your knees getting the same treatment. He was immediately onto you, his legs trapping you underneath him. His weight crushed you to the floor as he began to suck against your neck. 

You could feel the outline of his cock through his trousers, the way it twitched desperately between your ass cheeks. Begging for your touch. You attempted to move, to squirm away from him. To attempted to use his lust-filled mind as a distraction, but he was quicker…stronger. His hands spun you around, your back now against the cold ground. “You can’t run away again lamb, I caught my meal fair and square” 

His lips began to bite softly against your collarbone, his hands moving underneath your shirt as he pulled it over your head. Leon’s tongue darted out, licking a long stripe from your breasts down to your stomach, sucking against the curves and soft skin that lay just above your waistband. He sighed as your body still tried to squirm away from him, the small rocks digging into your back as he pinned you further into the ground. His clothed erection now rutting against the seam of your trousers. A moan escaped your lips, a blush decorating your skin as you looked at his sicking smirk. “Why are you still fighting?” 

Why were you still fighting? It wasn’t like you didn’t find him attractive, instead, you spent most of your time daydreaming over how he would feel. How his cock looked or how he would hold you during the act. Your body stilled, your legs attempting to spread from beneath him in an attempt to feel more. If he had his way, he wouldn't be doing it like this. He wouldn’t be bruising you with his grip, forcing himself onto you like this. He grinned as you spread your legs, his fingers immediately working on the button of your trousers. He pulled them down your legs, exposing you to the cold again. You shivered against his cold hands as they roamed over your body, his lips capturing your own in a heated yet sloppy kiss. 

You watched as he worked on his jeans, his cock springing free as he pulled his trousers and boxers down in a swift motion. You admired the puffy veins, now a dark black in contrast to the blush pink of his cock, that you knew would just make the perfect ridges as he moved inside you. Leon's fingers swiped against your entrance, bringing his fingers into the dim light admiring the way they shined with your arousal. “Look at all of this sweet stuff…all for me” He whispered bringing the digits to his lips and sucking on them. Your eyes widened at his erotic display, hips squirming desperate for his touch and attention. 

“Such a needy little lamb, I’ve got you don’t worry” He grinned, his tip prodding at the entrance. He groaned, barely able to hold back from thrusting himself in one motion. His cock throbbed as your walls clenched around his head, milking him already before he even did anything. Leon could feel himself lose control, your scent, touch fueling the plagas that thumped throughout his body. You watched his eyes screw shut. Leon’s bruising grip returned to your thighs as he held them towards your chest. He hit deep inside you, your velvet walls clinging to his cock with each thrust. His intention was never to make this pleasurable for you as he relentlessly moved inside of you, a deep animalistic desire to spread his taint, to let you feel the power that coursed inside him. Whenever this was someone else controlling him or the new tainted Leon you would have to learn how to love. 

Your orgasm still approached though, your clit fluttering aginst the whisps of his pubic hair as he angled his hips deeper. His groaned filling your ear as he pressed himself closer, if that was even possible. His balls tightened as he finally spilled himself inside you, admiring the way your walls greedily sucked it up. Leon smiled as he pulled out, his cum seeping out of your pussy creating a small puddle on the floor. 

You however watched as the veins disappeared the whites of his eyes now returning when you met them again. A flash of guilt was replaced with something else as he looked at you, an apology on his tongue. Neither of you had the time to address this, the conversation had to wait until you were all safe again. 

Taglist: @kasueli @luvrgreyy @michellekmsh @miss0giarra @cinnabunnysavvy @redollface @my-loved-figure-skates @luvlouiee @drawboo22 @moth-quasar @nyxxoxo

[solspina]

Omission in Angelism

Luis Dante ⋆˙⟡

a short blurb inspired heavily by a thread by @lemon-russ and @squishyowl that i came across earlier! this isn’t proofread, so i apologize for any mistakes :)

trapped within an endless and grotesque night terror, dante is forced to watch the worst of his fears spring to life. fear reveals his deepest secrets to him, and he may only come to terms with them within the waking world.

warnings: very gorey in the beginning, lots of blood, graphic descriptions of a very bloody environment, reverse hurt/comfort

the pulpy floor seemed to yield with every step dante took forward. blood splashed onto the golden calves of his armor with every sickening squelch the ground made, occasionally accompanied by the snapping and cracking of fragile and decayed bones. trapped pockets of air were released from the endless heap of flesh beneath his feet, emitting muffled gurgling in their wake. the air was thick with the stench of rot and putrescence, and it pooled in his throat with every shallow breath.

this was no battlefield; he had walked through those before and come out relatively unfazed. he had seen the bodies of his brothers, and been able to identify each one by their faces and mourn them as individuals. that wasn’t the case this time. instead, each face engraved into this unholy amalgamation of human meat was indistinguishable. if he looked hard enough, he could make out the shapes of different body parts. hands, feet, arms, faces here and there, all cauterized together into an unholy organic mixture.

and yet he pressed on.

he seemed to walk for what felt like days, each step a thousand pounds heavier than the last. the crimson decay had began to absorb into his armor, soaking his feet with flesh and blood that clung to the elegant gold like it were simply white fabric. with each stain upon him, it spread its will to engage in coalescence with him, to unite him with its rot. voices had begun to speak to him, but they spoke only of his failures, the ones that drove daggers into his soul like knives. “you need to apologize” they hissed at him. “you will never be forgiven” they echoed. “the angel is gone” they declared. “you have nothing left” they told… no, reminded him.

in the beginning, they were merely haunting whispers, barely audible over the squelching under his footsteps, growing louder and more insistent as he limped into the endless unknown every step he took amplified their presence until, their volume had begun to drive him insane, for they whispered even as they screamed curses at him. they spoke of unworthiness, of guilt, of life.

“dante…”

every noise around him ceased as he heard her voice, choked and raspy behind him. she was no illusion.

sanguinius wasn’t either.

crimson red poured down from her lips like a waterfall as she choked. the angel sat behind her, one hand wrapped tightly around her throat, and the other steadying himself on the ground as he buried his teeth deep into her neck, taking pleasure in her pained whimpering and desperate gasps for air, each sound of suffering a symphony to his ears. her body convulsed from every attempt to breathe, but only blood could escape from her mouth when she exhaled. sanguinius’ fingers dug into her soft skin, undoubtedly breaking the flesh open as red poured from where his nails penetrated it.

he smiled upon noticing dante, upon witnessing his son fall to his knees in desperation as he reached a hand out to touch her, his eyes reflected nothing short of misery upon seeing his personal serf’s skin turn pale and limbs lay limp in the grasp of the angel.

“no…” dante pleaded, his voice trembling with fear and desperation. he knew his pleas would fall on deaf ears, but he could not stop himself. “father please,” he choked out as tears began to flow from his eyes. they streamed down his face, mingling with the blood and grime that covered him in a thick film of the disgusting thing that he walked upon. “she’s all i have left, father” he cried. his voice broke under the weight of grief and fear as he searched for any ounce of mercy within sanguinius’ eyes.

“dante…” she called out again in a whisper mixed with a whimper.

“please!” he begged once again, the tears now flowed unrelentlessly from his eyes. “i can’t lose her, my lord. please!” his voice cracked with each anguished plea.

this was her end. her eyes had finally began to close, and dante got to watch the life within them fade. the angel had only tightened his grip further, digging his nails further into her throat as he absorbed every drop of blood she had left within her. dante began to sink into the flesh amalgam beneath him without noticing. it grabbed him, even as he screamed while being pulled under and consumed. he did not focus on his own sinking. his focus instead on his serf and her final moments of life. “she means…” he pleaded one last time, his voice barely a whisper, too choked by both emotion and the hands around his throat for his words to be coherent. for the first time in his life he wished that he could live a little longer, if only to save her. “everything to me.”

silence had finally befallen him.

“dante?”

“dante!”

she screamed out his name as he jolted awake. he gasped for air, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. the sensation that he was being strangled remained fresh on his neck, his breathing was fast and erratic, each attempt a desperate attempt to fill his lungs as he trembled. his mind still situated on a reality in which she was gone.

no. she was here. she sat in front of him on his bed, holding a cold towel to his head with one hand and wiping his tears with the other. he had cried in his sleep, his fears expressing themselves even outside of his nightmare.

“dante, are you okay? i heard you crying from my room and i-“ he lunged forward without second thought, trapping her in his arms, enveloping the solidity and warmth of her body against his. his tears had begun to soak her shoulder almost immediately, and his fingertips dug into her back so harshly she knew for a fact they would leave bruises.

once her shock had faded, she too held him tightly, her heart breaking at the sight of her master’s anguish. “it’s okay, dante” she whispered, her voice gentle and soothing against the whirring of the flagship’s engines. “i’m not going anywhere.”

she continued to hold him as his heartbeats began to calm, her fingers gently stroking his back in a soothing rhythm. “you’re safe,” she murmured, her words a soft lullaby even up against the hardened exterior of commander luis dante. “we’re both safe.”

“please stay.” he asked, his voice muffled against her shoulder. she hummed in response, in the tone of a question. “stay with me… please.” his request highlighted the true volume of the situation. she and dante were close, and he had been vulnerable before, but never once had he openly asked for comfort, let alone asked to share his bed after one of many night terrors. who was she to deny her chapter master?

she invited herself under his blankets, the mattress already warm from dante’s few hours of sleep. the familiar scent of him enveloped her as she slipped under the covers. before she could even say goodnight, he’d moved closer. his chest found itself against her back, and his arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly as if he were afraid she would disappear. he buried his face into her hair, inhaling the smell of her perfume as a reminder of her presence. she was not gone. she was here.

he mulled over words that guilliman had said to him a few days prior before he closed his eyes once more. the primarch was right. perhaps a serf was no longer a fitting title for the woman who lay next to him. he remembered his nightmare, the vivid image of himself falling to his knees, sobbing, panicking over the thought of losing her. she means everything to me, he’d told himself… told sanguinius… within his sleep.

if the only way of ensuring he got to hold the only person who could so easily ease his terror this close every night was by making her his wife, so be it.

[apoemaday]

All Our Yesterdays

by Jorge Luis Borges tr. Robert Mezey

I need to know who lays claim to my past. Who, of all those I was? The Geneva boy Who learned some Latin hexameters with joy, Lines that the years and decades have erased? That child who searched his father’s library for Exact details, the round-cheeked cherub storms Of the old maps, or else the savage forms That are the panther and the jaguar? Or the one who opened a door and looked upon A man as he lay drawing his last breath, Leaving forever, and kissed in the white dawn The face that stiffens away, the face in death? I am those that are no more. For no good reason I am, in the evening sun, those vanished persons.

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free ✨Masterpost✨

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Rating: General audiences, except chapters 10 (which can be skipped) and 15 both of which are 18+/minors DNI.

Status: COMPLETE (40k words)

Synopsis

It is late summer 1939, when you arrive in Paris from New York to begin a year of adventure. A deal struck with your parents to see a little of the world before settling down and marrying your ‘childhood sweetheart’ Stanley.

You soon find yourself with a spirited young English housemate Eloise, enjoying all that the cosmopolitan European city has to offer…. Until a few weeks later when war is declared. In this newly uncertain world, Eloise’s mother dispatches her brother to bring her home. Your plan is to board a ship back to America… but circumstances conspire to leave you possibly trapped in France with no way home. Eloise refuses to leave the country without you, even as you secretly grow attached to her beguiling brother, Benedict, who is everything Stanley is not.

There appears to be only one solution to your dilemma to ensure safe passage out of the country as invasion seems imminent…  but it will mean your life is forever changed, even when the world is free again.

Built from a story outlined and requested by @amillcitygirl

Chapter Links

Chapter 1 : Sous le ciel de Paris

Chapter 2: La Valse de Paris

Chapter 3: C'est Un Gars

Chapter 4: Le Rideau Tombe Avant La Fin

Chapter 5: Sans Y Penser

Chapter 6: J'ai Dansé Avec L'Amour

Chapter 7: Mon Ami M'a Donné

Chapter 8: Je N'en Connais Pas La Fin

Chapter 9: Partance

Chapter 10: Hymne à L'amour (18+ rating, minors DNI)

Chapter 11: Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien

Chapter 12: Je T'ai Dans La Peau

Chapter 13: С'est Lui Que Mon Cœur A Choisi

Chapter 14: Un Coin Tout Bleu

Chapter 15: La Vie En Rose (18+ rating, minors DNI)

Epilogue: Peace Ever After

Titles: Fic title taken from the song ‘The White Cliffs of Dover’ By Vera Lynn (1942). Chapter titles will likely all be Edith Piaf songs.

Disclaimer: While I have tried my best to research the time period and the history of events, ultimately, this is a work of fiction and may have some factual inaccuracies. This may be due to the nature of the requested storyline and/or the author's unintended errors. Credits: dividers by @/saradika [x], gif by @/captainbucky-yt [x]