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wo-onu · 2 years ago

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╰₊✧ ﾟ⚬𓂂➢ [yandere!men in your harem x reader]

* ・✦⇢ contents :: wherein one day, the seven men in your life, decided to put aside their differences and pass you around. [reverse harem] [3,065 words]

* ・✦⇢ warnings/cw :: general yandere themes, filth, sexual themes, you’re getting used and passed around, slight dacryphilia, slight degradation, some m undertones (one of the concubines), smut !!, mention of violence (not to darling or the concubines), possessive behaviour, edging, overstimulation. those who are not of age (minors) dni !

* ・✦⇢ additional notes :: hello everyone! this is my first time (attempting) to write gn!reader smut so be kind ㅠㅡㅠ i am honestly not very sure if this is how you do it or if it’s written well enough but since a promise is a promise, here it is. do let me know if this is okay though ! now is the time i would greatly appreciate feedbacks regarding this since i want to know whether or not everyone liked it (or if you didn’t). hopefully, i was able to do it well and can convey what i wanted properly.

* :: this post is gender neutral and no explicit body parts are particularly mentioned for the readers, therefore, everyone is free to read it! although, if i missed it or something, let me know! because as far as i know, no particulars were ever mentioned. reader is smaller than all concubines tho ! if i missed any warnings/tags lmk!

* :: likes/reblogs and feedbacks are always appreciated! my ask is open for reqs~

CAN YOU STAY UP ALL NIGHT? FUCK ME TIL THE DAYLIGHT !

• the first one loves tormenting you. not in a sadistic sense, but more likely because he couldn’t get enough of you. raised in a holy kingdom where he spent most of his days training to become a paladin, and taking an oath to never let desire rule his life until he found a person whom he will spend the rest of his days with, he was eternally glad that he found you after fulfilling that oath. in his mind, if he were to see you in the premise of the holy kingdom, he wouldn’t be able to keep up the lifestyle he grew accustomed to. with his unlimited stamina, he kept going and using your body for both your pleasures. you remember how once, he fucked you for three days straight, only pausing between meals and catnaps (bath times are spent with him still inside you and depending on both your patience, you either just warm his cock until it’s over or you both end up fucking once more). you wouldn’t have believed your body was capable of having that much stamina— despite already having an above average one— it was all thanks to his healing powers. once he starts noticing your tired, fucked out form, he quickly provides your body with healing energy, and continues once your body regains its normal level. he’s a very eager man; so enthusiastic and so very attentive to your needs. he’s had you writhing in pleasure all by yourself before he even takes you, peppering your entire face with kisses until he gets to your neck and trails it with open mouthed, wet kisses. once he gets to your chest, he’s marking you like a madman while calling you the sweetest of names and singing praises, yet somehow, it all feels so inherently filthy coming from the very holy looking man. he fucks you hard and fast, as if afraid that if he slowed down even for a nanosecond, you’d disappear. he torments you with his insatiability, all the while, the only thing you could ever think is where and how can he learn to be this filthy?

• the second one loves taking his time. contrary to the very first time you did it with him, wherein he came undone before he even began fully touching you, the following times he took you, he savoured every inch of you like he has all the time in the world. and his hands calculatingly takes you apart; his large hands pressing at your thighs and spreading them apart. caressing your entire body until you’re whimpering and gasping for him. in full honestly, he is severely obsessed with how small you are against him. the visual drives him absolutely insane. from his entire physique, down to his cock, everything. revels in the way you suck his cock the most, even if he doesn’t admit it. he loved the way you struggle to take all of him in your mouth and how much you indulge him when he requests you maintain eye contact. he needs to come in your mouth, making you swallow all of it, at least twice before he’s lifting you up, making you bounce on his cock while standing up. he needed to leave a Mark on you, wants to ensure you’ll be able to still feel him even after he’s done with you. then when he’s fucking you, he loves the way he can hold both of your hands with only one of his hand, pinning it above your head as he watched you struggle take all of his cock inside you, completely entranced. but he especially loves the way you ride him, or tell him what to do. he loves when you take full control despite the size difference between the two of you. but he becomes an absolute heart-eyed fool when you’re on top of him, telling him how good he feels inside you. he also loves the way you make his cock sore, so sore. he loves the torture on his overstimulated dick, moaning at the feeling of you tightening around his already sore cock as you continue to bounce on top of him, riding out your high. he finds it rather difficult to leave you then, and the sweet pain of the proof of a little too much love making, concentrated at the tip of his abused cock.

• the third one drags you to filth with his mouth as he hammers into you. “you might be the most noble of them all in this empire, your highness,” he smirked, “but right now, you’re nothing but a filthy whore waiting for everyone to have their turn with you.” and you know it shouldn’t make you clench harder or make your back arch even more so you could take him even more, but it did. and as your body further betrays you, you tried to suppress the lewd noises you were making. “tell me, does your imperial father know that his most trusted knight and the commander of the imperial guard fucked your throat raw and had all of his cum swallowed, not a drop getting out of that greedy mouth of yours?” he taunted you, “or perhaps, you’re already aroused before we even began because your head was already filled with such obscene thoughts unbefitting of your status while you’re supposed to be focusing on the grand meeting?” and instead of answering him, you only made a noise of protest when he slowed down his pace. “answer me or you don’t get to come.” he stated, eyes serious. “i’ll come inside you again and again,” he said while pushing on your abdomen, “but i will stop every time you feel like coming.” he mocked your begging gaze, already spilling his seed inside you as he did so, a little smirk on his face as he proves just how much he meant all his words. he’s a sly one, while he’s not much into too much kinky stuff, he loves the way your eyes tear up whenever you’re desperately in need of an orgasm, or when the pressure of his cock is too much for you to handle so he teases you and your body until he hears you desperately begging, your previous attempts of not wanting to cease control, all but forgotten. gets drunk in the way you crumble underneath him.

• the fourth one has a lot to give, whether it’s room to breathe, praises, or when he’s filling you up with all of his cum. his big, calloused hands massaged your body as he infused a bit of magic to take away the fatigue he’s beginning to see. he eases the tension in your body, expertly moving his hands to your pressure points so you could feel relieved; despite how kind he’s treating your body, however, all he could whisper is, “how filthy, your highness,” he smiled sweetly, “you seem to enjoy being passed around us like this... was being with one of us not as satisfying anymore now that you’ve tasted this? if you enjoy it this much... maybe we, as your men, should put all our differences aside and use you like this more often, hmm?” his taunt could only make you softly grunt, burying your face in the crook of his neck, he laughs mockingly as he teased you some more, hands dangerously falling lower on your back. next thing you know, the hands that were expertly relieving your soreness, are now expertly moving onto even filthier places, caressing your body. feeling his finger against your tight hole, you let out a small gasp. he whispers, “now, now. be good for me, darling.” as he takes his stretching you for him and makes sure you’re ready enough. as he prepares to enter you, you could only wince as you recall how big this man holding you right now is. how is it possible that most of the men in your little harem has a cock to boast about? but your thoughts are cut off when he swiftly moves inside you; filling you up so, so perfectly. he’s got you completely weak that you slumped against him, mewling, telling him to move for you. then he does. and he’s whispering the sweetest praises he could give you, eyeing your other men provokingly, displaying you to everyone and gloating how good he can make you feel— especially, how easily he can make you submit all control to him. and as you let out a needy whine, chanting ‘yes, yes, yes’ like a prayer to whatever it is that he’s saying; whether it may be if you’re good for him, want his cock, or if he should fill you up with his cum. he has you mindlessly whimpering, while his teeth refuses to let go a section of your neck as he relentlessly pounds into you. and you beg for more, so he has you settled on your back, pressed in half, to ready you for the oncoming load of his cum and more to come. he has truly achieved fucking you stupid. so he coos at you, almost sincerely, telling you how much you look good for him this way, looking so stupid as you can only beg him to fill you up with cum, his thrusts never once slowing down. then he has you cumming, your legs shaking uncontrollably, spasming around him making him groan lowly, with your throat aching from a broken scream you let out. after a few more rounds and he pulls out, he watches his cum oozing out of you, pushing his fingers in to keep it back. overall, despite his godly hands and honey coated praises; he’s the one who wants to break you, he craves your body and wanted to make it submit to him and him alone, he loves the way your voice can’t even come out as your brain loses all its function and can only focus on the pleasure he can bring you.

• the fifth one loves depriving you. he’s a tease but unlike the others, he doesn’t do it as much. he’s got your eyes covered with the finest silk, something he couldn’t have easily obtained with his current status. as he takes you from behind, grasping and fondling your ass, he’s got his pair of psychic hands pin you to place. he finds out your little fetish of being held down and being helpless against someone as they take you to be very interesting, and something he can do— quite often at that. he didn’t care how much you whined when he upped his pace thrusting into you. the view of your ass jiggling every time he pounded into you harshly, blindfolded and held down was a sight to behold. instead of asking you what you want or even giving you instructions on how he wants you, he’s doing it himself; handling you as he makes you give absolute submission. he would do you in any way, form, or position that he’d like until you’re reduced into a mere blubbering mess. and whenever you try to catch up to him and move by yourself, his hands are already on you— psychic or physical, depending if one is busy doing the other. he loves the way you can utter such obscene language, cursing to death as you try to whine for an orgasm. “such a needy little thing, your highness. it’s truly unfortunate for others that only we get to see you this way. we’d have to have anyone who are not us never see you, nor hear you lest they wanted their eyes gauged, or tongue cut off as no one can ever know how lewd our perfect little royal highness is.”

• the sixth one, despite being a virgin, made you feel so good that you wondered whether or not he was telling the entire truth when he confessed never touching anyone sexually before you. with his innate flirtatious nature, and glib tongue befitting of the top merchant that he is, it totally could’ve fooled you. as the richest man in the empire, he has all the resources to know how to make someone feel good. and good, did he make you feel. the travelling merchant only got better as your escapades continue; if you’ve ever met a worshipper, he has to be it. he goes feral whenever he sees you in any pretty clothing— in this case, any and every clothing— and will not be able to resist you in anything. his confidence gets a huge boost whenever you chant his name in a whispered prayer, clutching at him tightly as he makes you ride out your own release. his love bites are more akin to vampire marks, he loves leaving it when he can and he absolutely loves it when you give up wearing something that can expose them. he loves the idea that he is the sole person who knows why exactly their precious little highness is wearing a high neck even if it is scorching hot. sometimes, he bites hard enough to draw a bit of blood. splurges on recording orbits from the magic tower so he can capture you during your sessions. when he can’t stay and has to be away from you because of how demanding his duties can be, he watches them and let’s himself cum at least four times. he made a rule that if you’re away with each other and touches yourselves thinking of the other, then you must send an emergency communication alert to the communication orb to ask permission if either of you can come. has a hobby of picking up your limp body by wrapping a hand around your neck as he fucks you from behind. as you whine out, “i can’t... i can’t take anymore,” he hushes you softly, lowly encouraging you to hang on a bit more, that you’re being so good and that he will make sure to reward you greatly for being so good for him.

• the last one has a propriety glint in his eyes, after all, he’s stopped time for every single one of you just so they could properly use you without minding how long they’re taking. one look at him and you know, how impatient this man right now is. he settled you on his lap, a quick healing spell casted upon you. then you started grinding on his thigh, turned on with his twisted expression of possessiveness, jealousy, and impatience, your hands trying to muffle the sounds of your own pleasure. in retaliation of the intense jealousy he’s experiencing, he’s not letting you reach the high you so desperately wanted. he heard you whimper a soft plea, shifting closer to him as you did so. he adjusts you, now with your back facing him, and his arms wrapped around you, one on your chest and the other on your inner thigh, fingers needlessly teasing. then, he starts pleasuring you once more, strangled moans as you pray to whatever gods out there for him to let you come. still, he continued to just tease you near your end, torturously stopping just before it drives you over the edge. he continues to do this until you’re a proper mess; desperately gasping for air, panting, and letting out the neediest whines. still dazed as he finally compliments you for doing well and listening to him. to you, his voice and everything in within your vision is hazy, you can’t make out what he’s saying or what anyone is doing; all you can feel is his warm, hardened cock poking your back and the ache of wanting to finally cum. so he doesn’t waste anymore time and drives his cock into you and he lets himself bask on the feeling of your tightness around him, the squelching sounds that came from your joint bodies driving him feral and making him thrust into you with unbelievable pace. his once prim, proper and elegant face is gone, only unadulterated pleasure is left as he enjoys taking you. he kept powering into you, only focused on ravaging you so completely that all your inhibitions would dropped, too; so utterly destroyed that you’d feel mastered, owned, and consumed by him. “are you close? i can feel you squeezing my cock so tightly, darling. but you have to wait—“ you let out a whining sob, a protest that you don’t want and are not willing to wait even a second longer for your approaching climax, and he chuckled, the annoying bastard. “don’t worry, all you need to do is wait for me. i want us to come together, darling. you’ll do that for me, won’t you?” soon, your orgasm has finally came; and you came with an almost violent tremor wracking your whole body. you felt him grabbed a handful of your hair, you let out a small hiss as you felt the room go cold. then he’s drilling his cock into you even more; every forward slam of hips unapologetically violent. feral. and unrestrained. he couldn’t slow down as he felt your orgasm wrack your entire body. he forcefully turned your face towards his, “yes, take a good look at who’s owning you now, your highness” his tone insolent, he couldn’t slow down his pace at all. soon, your reaching another high, this time, you can feel just how intense it would be and anticipation clawed at you. his hands weren’t gentle, nor were his mouth as he trailed bites along your upper back. when it came, the burning stings of pain only pushed all sorts of your hot buttons, highlighting the indescribable pleasure he brought you. he slammed into you one last time, then began emptying himself inside you, “come, your highness,” you didn’t think you could come again as your first orgasm has been so intense, but it did. if your first was intense, now you’re coming in an explosive orgasm, wrecking you from the inside out, shattering you into tiny little pieces and sending all of you crumbling. you felt so sapped out of energy, your orgasm— so explosive and devastating— pretty much drained you so entirely. you slumped on your bed, shuddering and fighting to breathe, your brain completely shutting out. and you barely registered as he picked you up gently to sprawl you over his chest while he lay on his back.

those who chose the reverse harem fic, here it is! thank u for the feedback on my og post. im not sure if you wanted to be tagged so do tell me if you want to be untagged: @nebulosa-lady , @beyzaakadeku , @aineloveslatte1 , @a-person-with-many-likes , @msvaniilabean , @ccurheart.

#yandere oc #male yandere oc #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere drabble #male yandere #soft yandere #possessive yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #yandere smut #yandere x reader #yandere x you

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outmakingmoonshine · 9 months ago

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I wrote this in the tags on this post by @sydcarmyfan pointing out that Carmy has touched all of Syd’s tattoos and they asked me to make a post about it, it's kinda long so I've put it under a cut.

Like the above post mentions the placement of Carmy's hands on Syd's back in 2x03 puts them directly over the broken wishbone, the three of swords tattoos and the anchovies

If the hand placement is deliberate then it specifically places his hands directly over the tattoos that relate to him/their love story the most. The broken wishbone, he’s fulfilling her wish/dream by making her his partner in The Bear and kinda breaking it by being “shitty”, there's something in there about "wishing on a star" too... and the three of swords which the SydCarmy meta writers have written about much better than I can. (And also the anchovies tattoo but I have no idea what that's related to yet, although Carmy does have a fish tattoo so that's how it relates until I know more lol.) This touch on these two specific tattoos happens in a scene which is arguably the start of him breaking her heart and her wish…it's the first time she sees him after he ditched her at Kasama and after he tried to avoid Claire but caved to her hounding him on the phone so whether Syd's aware of Claire yet or not, the wall has already been torn down and the ball's already in motion. It’s also when he starts to ditch working with her on their joint wish/dream, kinda breaking her "wish" of working on it with him.

It's worth noting that the point of a wishbone is to break it so this might not have a negative connotation and could just relate to him being so focused on getting that wish for her while...on the other hand..literally..he’s breaking her heart while trying.

@sydcarmyfan pointed out when Carmy placed his hand on Syd's back in 2x02 he also touched her other two tattoos, which was during a scene/montage when they were both more comfortable and relaxed around each other, being more open about their personal lives, history, family etc, and those other two tattoos seem more related to Syd’s family life/history. The car with mom on the license plate and the c’est pas grave tattoos. So the themes of the tattoos he touched in each scene also relate to the themes of their dynamic within that scene.

The car is obviously about her mum and maybe something to do with driving to Sheridan Road? Idk yet but my theory on the c’est pas grave tattoo (which translates to “it’s not serious/it doesn’t matter/nevermind”) is it relates to whatever reason Syd feels like she needs to hide or ignore her feelings like they “don’t matter” or they’re “not serious” to anyone else but her…or maybe she doesn’t even allow herself to take them seriously and that’s why she just swallows her disappointment and internalizes and suppresses her feelings all the time.

I don’t think Syd’s ever really been emotionally nurtured because the version we see now of Emmanuel as the devoted father telling stories of her mother lovingly doesn’t really add up. If he was that loving devoted father making her smile and laugh so animatedly while she was growing up why is she so emotionally avoidant now? There’s a weird distance in their relationship like she has a huge wall up when she's around him, even more than around when she's around Carmy or Marcus tbh. He obviously knows her better, he raised her so he can see through her and confront her about more things but she still never really lets him in and he never seems willing to push enough. I get the feeling he wasn’t really there for her as a kid and he learnt to be a decent father too late. I also get a vibe from him like he feels kinda guilty about something / has regrets / kinda feels like he failed her. Idk he seems to walk on eggshells around her imo like he's very careful what he says to her and how he words things with her. He definitely feels the distance between them and it bothers him more than it bothers her. You can tell he tries to connect with her, but she’s always the one who’s resistant.

My theory is the distance is because he became an alcoholic after her mom died because he couldn't cope with losing her. Maybe Syd spent most of her childhood feeling neglected and alone, like no one cared about her and what she wanted or needed so she learnt to suppress her emotions and now she just keeps following that pattern because she doesn’t know any different. By the time Emmanuel got sober it was too late, she'd already learned this toxic way to cope with all the feelings of loneliness and rejection. And she's still so wounded by his neglect that she only gives him a surface level relationship now.

She’s also lowkey disrespectful to him in some ways or she just lacks the respect you would expect her character to have for a father who is clearly trying and we know Syd isn’t a disrespectful person. Definitely not to be disrespecting her only living parent and kinda dismissing him the way she does for no reason. So I think there’s something important we don’t know about their dynamic.

I also think this could be why she cut Carmy off from asking about her dad in 2x02 because he already said something like “at least he was there for you” and I don't think she wanted to explain that maybe he actually wasn’t.

There’s a reason that the main point of Emmanuel's only scene and dialogue inside the restaurant in 2x10 was to reveal that he doesn't drink and I don't think it was just to highlight the contrast between him and Donna because it would've made more sense to have donna show up as a drunken mess outside The Bear if they wanted that contrast so badly but she seemed sober when talking to Pete.

(Here's where I insert my headcanon that Emmanuel & Donna have already met at al-anon meetings and he’s been integral in her recovery so far, probably not even realizing they are future in-laws.)

I think Carmy's gonna find out Syd had a very similar childhood to him but she was actually going through it all alone. While he FELT alone she really WAS alone dealing with an alcoholic parent with no siblings to understand or to just share the emotional and psychological burden with and all he's been doing is dumping pressure on her that she didn’t really ask for...but she wont tell him directly that she crumbles under pressure, she tried to tell him a story to let him know she crumbles under pressure with the Sheridan story in 1x05 and again with the pasta/Ragù story in 2x02 but he consistently keeps leaving her alone to fend for herself with a major workload when the whole reason she came to The Beef was to work WITH him and spend time WITH him. That’s what Syd values, that’s what makes her happy. Quality time and food are her love languages, these things are the way to her heart and this anxious white man is bending over backwards trying to make her happy BY AVOIDING HER TO WORK ON HIMSELF SO HE CAN BE ENOUGH TO MAKE HER HAPPY😭😭 He's trying but he's so clueless and Syd won't give him a clue!

#sydcarmy #carmy x sydney #syd x carmy #sydcarmy meta

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forest-hashira · 9 months ago

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Lucky Shot

I'M BACK AGAIN i have just been on a roll with writing lately but you know what? i'm not complaining lol. anyways, this is my second entry to @kentopedia's "Love Through the Ages" collab! you can find my first entry here, but be sure to keep an eye on the masterlist for the other entries!!! this is the first time i've written solo suguru/reader so. be nice to me pls. also plese check out this art by @/diosaurr! i had already started writing this fic when they posted it, but three separate people tagged me in it knowing i was writing the fic so i want everyone else to see it, too!

read on ao3 here | wc: ~2.7k | cw: fem! reader (i know who am i???), outlaw!suguru, saloon girl!reader, gun violence, mentions of blood/injury, mentions of death. if those things will upset you i suggest you give this one a pass!

Maybe you should have listened to your father after all.

He’d told you countless times that traveling west, especially without a family or close group to help you out and keep your best interests at heart, would be difficult at best and dangerous at worst. Especially for a young unmarried woman such as yourself.

But you had always been headstrong and stubborn, and your father had always been a worrier, so you assumed he was exaggerating to discourage you, his eldest daughter, from following your dream and going out west. You secretly saved up money for months, and at the first given opportunity to leave your family and head west, you’d taken it, leaving only a goodbye note for your parents and younger siblings when you slipped from the house in the early hours of the morning.

Turns out, your father wasn’t exaggerating. Joining a party as a solo traveler had proven even more difficult and dangerous than you could have anticipated. You managed to make it out west, just like you wanted, but you had no money to your name, only the clothes on your back and two other outfits in a bag as you walked through the town, wandering from business to business, asking for work; you’d nearly wept with relief when the saloon owner said you looked like you could have some potential as a saloon girl, after you cleaned up.

He’d provided you a boarding room above the saloon and a new outfit – the ones you had weren’t up to his standards – up front, and while you appreciated it, you also knew he’d be taking that out of your pay until he decided those things were covered, which you could only guess would be never.

Despite the strings that came attached to your new job, things weren’t all bad. You got to know people in the town pretty quickly – the ones that frequented the saloon, anyways – and you were always in the loop about local “news”, most of which was just gossip.

One character of particular interest in the local gossip was a man named Geto Suguru. When you’d asked what was so interesting about him, you’d gotten some questioning looks, until you’d said you had only just recently moved out west. After you were shown his wanted poster, though, you began to understand.

He was one of the most – if not the most – attractive man you’d ever seen. Dark hair that fell past his shoulders; thin, almost cat-like eyes; and even in the poster, there was a sly look on his face.

Not only that, but he was wanted for robbing stagecoaches, stealing money and jewelry from rich people who gave into his – apparently – intimidating presence. He was also known for spending that money generously in towns all over the west supporting local businesses; plenty of women from across the state also bragged about the jewelry he would gift them, simply because he thought it looked good on them.

After spending weeks hearing stories – that you were certain had to be at least a little exaggerated – about this pretty outlaw and staring at his wanted poster, you resigned yourself to the fact that you would never see him with your own eyes.

So you couldn’t have been more surprised when you watched the man himself walk into your saloon without any sort of fanfare or dramatics and sit at the bar.

You stared at him, eyes wide, until he gave you a small smile.

“I’ve heard you’ll catch flies if you leave your mouth open too long,” he said, smooth voice lilting with amusement.

Realizing he meant you, you quickly snapped your mouth shut, your whole face burning with embarrassment. “You try meeting a living legend when you’ve only lived in the area for a couple months, see how you react,” you snapped back. When you realized what you’d said, you opened your mouth to apologize, but stopped when you saw the way his eyes sparkled with interest, one perfect brow arched in your direction.

“Feisty, aren’t we?” he chuckled. “I think I like you already, new girl.”

“What do you want to drink?” You turned away from him to grab a glass, hoping he didn’t pick up on how flustered you were over the nickname.

“Surprise me.”

You straightened at that, and now it was your turn to arch a brow as you looked him over. His expression never wavered, his head tilted slightly as he waited to see what you decided to serve him.

With a quiet huff, you turned your back to him, looking over your selection of liquors. Part of you wanted to serve him the cheapest, nastiest drink you carried, just to see if he would actually drink it or demand another drink, but ultimately you decided against it. Instead, you reached for the top shelf, grabbing the unopened bottle of some fancy imported scotch your boss had just gotten in a couple days before.

“Opening a bottle just for me?” Geto asked, still with that playful tone. “Well now I feel special.”

“Don’t make me change my mind,” you threatened, turning as if to put the bottle back in its place.

He held up his hands, as if in surrender, and you set the bottle down on the bar to grab a glass, though you took a brief moment to admire how strong even just his hands looked.

Setting the glass in front of him, you broke the seal on the bottle, then intentionally poured him about three times as much of the amber liquid as you were supposed to. Your boss could yell at you about it later.

Geto lifted the glass, tipping it towards you slightly in thanks, before taking a sip.

Just as you were about to speak to the outlaw in front of you again, the saloon doors swung open in your peripheral vision, and you looked up to see the sheriff walking towards the bar.

“Afternoon, sheriff,” you greeted him, glancing briefly at Geto to see what his reaction was, and you were only a little surprised that he had no reaction at all. “Your usual?”

The sheriff tipped his hat to you, sitting down at the opposite end of the bar from the bandit. “Please and thank you.”

With a nod, you placed the bottle of scotch on the counter behind the bar, then grabbed another glass and the brand of whiskey the sheriff always drank. You walked down the length of the bar, setting the glass in front of him and pouring his drink – the expected amount of liquor for him, unlike the bandit down the bar – before you walked away to put the bottle back.

You felt hyper-aware of the two customers at the bar, worried that any second now the sheriff would recognize the outlaw and all hell would break loose, especially when the other patrons at the tables in the building were always itching for some sort of fight, just because they thought it was entertaining.

In the end, though, it wasn’t the sheriff that recognized Geto, it was another customer that walked up to the bar to get another drink.

“You look familiar,” the man drawled, narrowing his eyes as he analyzed Geto’s face as best as his intoxicated mind could manage.

“I get that a lot,” the outlaw answered evenly, not sparing the man a second glance.

“No, I’ve definitely seen you somewhere before…” he trailed off, scowling, his gaze wandering until it landed on the handful of wanted posters hung on the wall beside the bar. His eyes lit up with recognition, and you swore you felt your heart drop to your stomach.

“You’re that stagecoach robber!” the man exclaimed, turning back to Geto; out of the corner of your eye you saw the sheriff turn to face the commotion.

Shit, this is bad, you thought, placing the man’s beer on the bar in front of him, though he was far beyond caring about the drink anymore.

“I’m pretty sure you have no proof of that.”

“That’s your face on the poster,” the man insisted, then turned his attention to you. “Don’t you think?”

“It looks like it could be a lot of people,” you replied lamely, grimacing at how obvious of a lie it was.

The man scowled at you. “Shoulda known better than t’ask a whore,” he spat, slurring his words a bit. “Whores always lie.”

Almost before he finished speaking, Geto grabbed the man’s collar and slammed his face down onto the bar. “Apologize to her,” he said, voice calm but eyes sharp with anger.

You blinked in surprise at what had just happened, and once you processed what had been said to you, you found that you were quite offended, and also quite pleased that this outlaw had taken up for you so quickly.

“Like hell!” the man protested, struggling against Geto’s hold. Even with his head forcibly pressed to the bar top, though, the man managed to pull his gun from his holster.

The scene before you seemed to slow impossibly for a moment: the sound of the gun cocking, seeing it aimed at Geto, the man’s finger going for the trigger. Then suddenly everything was back to normal speed, and the outlaw used his free hand to shove the gun to no longer be aimed at him just as the trigger was pulled.

You turned your head to see where it landed, and you watched in horror as a wound burst into existence in the sheriff’s shoulder, blood soaking into his shirt in an instant. He let out a shout of pain, clutching at the wound with his hand.

“You rat bastard!” the man shouted, working to cock his gun and aim it at Geto again, but the outlaw was quicker, pulling out his own gun, pressing it to the man’s ribs, and shooting him almost before you could process what he was doing.

There was a wet gasping sound from the man, and when Geto’s hold on his collar was finally released, he dropped unceremoniously to the floor, his gun sliding out of his hand. You couldn’t tell if he was dead yet or not, but he certainly wasn’t making any effort to get off the floor.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the sheriff draw his own gun and aim it, but it was in his non-dominant hand, so the bullet did not hit the robber as the sheriff intended; instead, it shattered the whiskey glass on the bar in front of you, and you dropped to the ground in fear.

With your hands over your head, you kept as low as you could. You couldn’t see what was happening anymore, but from what you could hear, at least half of the other patrons of the saloon had joined in the gunfight. Stray bullets hit the wall behind the bar, shattering multiple bottles of liquor, including the fancy bottle of scotch. My boss is going to be so pissed, you thought, an oddly practical thought to have in the midst of hiding and praying you weren’t accidentally shot.

Almost as if summoned by your thoughts, a bullet tore through the front of the bar, sticking in the cabinet about six inches from your head. With a shriek, you scrambled aside, towards the end of the bar; maybe if you were lucky, there would be time for you to slip out of the building without being caught in the crossfire.

You scanned the building as quickly as you could while keeping yourself hidden, not wanting to make yourself any more of a target than you already were. Bullets were still flying, leaving no chance for your escape, and you cursed under your breath; you were going to be stuck here until everyone ran out of ammo.

As you looked around, you noticed the first man that Geto had shot, a pool of blood slowly growing beneath his torso. His chest still rose and fell slightly, but his eyes were glassy; he was alive, but he was not long for this world. Suddenly, you remembered that he had dropped his gun when he had fallen, and you scanned the area around him for it, finding it a foot or so from his outstretched hand.

Deciding to run the risk of getting shot, you lunged for it, gripping it tightly in your hand once it was in your grasp. You’d never held a gun in your life, much less shot one, but having this one in your possession made you feel a little less cornered, a little less helpless.

Daring a glance upward, you saw that Geto had turned so that his back was to you and another corner of the saloon. Another patron had somehow managed to sneak around into the outlaw’s blind spot, and was clearly gearing up to shoot him in the back of the head. Knowing you couldn’t just sit there and watch it happen, you fumbled with the gun, your sweaty hands failing to pull back the hammer twice before you succeeded. With no clue how to accurately aim the weapon, you pointed it at his leg, squeezing your eyes shut as you pulled the trigger.

A shout of pain a moment later indicated that you had hit… someone, and you quickly opened your eyes again to make sure you hadn’t somehow hit Geto by accident. Thankfully, you hadn’t. The man you’d been aiming at had taken the shot to his knee – which actually had been what you were hoping to hit when you fired – bringing him down to the floor on one knee.

The shout was enough to alert the outlaw to the threat behind him, and he wasted no time spinning around and drilling him between the eyes. He slipped his guns – you saw now that he had two, rather than one like you had first thought – back into their holsters as the last man’s body dropped to the floor.

Once there was no longer another person blocking you from his view, Geto blinked in surprise, smiling as he stepped over the body and crouched down in front of you.

“You shot him?” he asked, his eyes glinting. The sight made you realize you’d been wrong before, when you’d thought his eyes were catlike in his wanted poster; in person they were foxlike, sharp and intelligent and clever.

“I-I, uh… yeah, I shot him.”

“Have you ever fired a gun before?”

“Not until just now.”

He glanced over his shoulder, taking in the bulletwound squarely in the side of the man’s knee. “You’re a good shot,” he observed, turning back to face you.

“Uh… thanks?”

He chuckled then, a low, smooth sound that made your stomach cartwheel. “You’re welcome.” A beat passed, then another, as he examined your face, though you were unsure what he was looking for.

“What?” you demanded, scowling at him despite the way your hands were still shaking.

“You should come with me.”

“Huh?”

“You should come with me,” Geto repeated easily. “I think you’d be a good addition to my crew. Besides, it really won’t be a good look for you if people come in and see you here with a gun after I get the hell out of here.” There was a slight smirk tugging at his lips, and despite the fact that you probably should have taken his words as a threat, you didn’t.

“What the hell,” you sighed. “It’s not like I have anyone keeping me here.”

“Wonderful,” he said, offering you a hand up off the floor, which you readily accepted. “Get what you need from your room and meet me outside. Be quick, my guess is that someone will come to investigate all the noise sooner rather than later.”

You nodded, brushing broken glass from your dress and your hair as you hurried towards the stairs, unable to hide the grin tugging at your own lips.

Maybe not listening to your father had been the right decision after all.

tagging: @kentopedia @kentohours @mitsuristoleme

#fallon's fics #divider by saradika #jjk x reader #jjk au #jjk fanfiction #jjk fanfic #jjk reader insert #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto jjk #jjk geto #suguru geto #geto suguru #suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #jjk suguru #jujutsu kaisen suguru

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atthebell-moved · 1 year ago

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Updated QSMP AO3 Work Language Stats-- as of July 9th, 2023

Hello! Doing an update to my June 6th, 2023 QSMP AO3 stats post going over the languages QSMP works are tagged with, one month (approx.) later. Feel free to refresh yourself with last month's data, as I'll be referencing it throughout this post.

We're just going to start off with the plain stats, and then we'll do comparisons to a month ago as well as analysis. The analysis will probably be similar to last time, as I don't think a ton has changed. Long post ahead!

Fun tidbits at the start:

QSMP has 2147 works as of today (July 9, 2023)! That's a difference of 714 works from the original 1433 works, so about a 50% increase.

English is still the most commonly tagged language, and its percentage has actually gone up a small amount since last month. Brazilian Portuguese has also gone up to 3.07%, while Spanish has slightly decreased in terms of percentage.

Some new languages added to the mix! There's now one work written in Malaysian Malay, and French finally has some works.

Speaking of! There's now works in all of the four spoken languages on the server :D

I used the same methodology as last time, which was to manually filter by each language I expected to have works, then do the math to make sure I wasn't missing any. You can check the previous post to find that info as well as how I got my AO3 total works stats.

Okay! Now onto numbers:

Getting into the stats:

QSMP Works

[Image Description: A table with three columns; the first lists languages, the second the number of works, and the third the percentage of total works. For the languages column, each language is listed first in that language and then in English in parentheses, and English, Spanish, Brazilian Portuguese, and French are all color-coded to indicate that they are spoken on the server. End ID.]

The most commonly tagged language, like I said above, is English, with 1751 works or 81.56% of total works in the QSMP fandom tag.

The second most commonly tagged language is Spanish, with 317 works and 14.76% of the fandom. Next is Brazilian Portuguese at 66 works and 3.07%.

French has works now! There are 5 works, which is about 0.23% of works in the fandom tag.

And the next four are not spoken on the server, but several are unsurprising (discussed in the previous stats post, but reiterated below): Mandarin at 3 works and 0.14%, Russian at 2 works with 0.09%, Latin at 1 work with 0.05%, Esperanto at 1 work with 0.05%, and Malaysian Malay at 1 work with 0.05%.

Preliminary observations! English, like I said, has gone up a bit in terms of percentage, as has Brazilian Portuguese, while Spanish has gone down. It's not a huge percentage difference, but I'll discuss my limited theories as to why that change might've happened.

The only really new language this month, as French was expected to get works since it's spoken on the server, is Malaysian Malay. I don't know a ton about Malay in general, so I don't want to speak too much about it in terms of population, but if any Malay speakers or Southeast Asians familiar with it have anything to add, feel free! This work is a translation of an English work by the same author, which is rad; I'll talk a bit more about translations below. Otherwise I don't have any particular observations other than wanting to note that it's a new language and I'm happy to see it!

Across All fandoms

[Image Description: The same table as above, this time with numbers for all fandoms across AO3. End ID.]

The most commonly tagged language is English at 10,154,701 works and 89.31% of all works on AO3.

Spanish has 133,743 works and 1.18%

Brazilian Portuguese has 31,218 works and 0.27%

French has 53,917 works and 0.47%

Mandarin has 638,576 works and 5.61%

Russian has 241,121 works and 2.12%

Latin has 165 works and 0.0015%

Esperanto has 106 works and 0.00093%

Malaysian Malay has 119 works and 0.001%

I don't have a ton of new observations for this, as I don't think any changes were all that significant, and QSMP is so much smaller than the total works that comparison is more helpful in terms of indicating which languages are typically used on the site versus commonly spoken languages, which don't always align.

Changes Since Last Month:

[Image Descriptions: Two tables, identical to those above aside from the numbers in each cell. One is the QSMP numbers from last month, as linked at the top of the post. One is the QSMP numbers for this month, as displayed above. End ID.]

Like I said above, English, Brazilian Portuguese, and French have gone up in terms of percentage while Spanish has gone down.

Mandarin and Russian have both gained one work each, and Latin and Esperanto have stayed at one work.

New language! Malay has gained one work, a translation of an English work by the same author.

Time for analysis!

Analysis/Theories:

First thing I want to look at is the fact that Spanish has gone down in terms of percentage, and why that may be. The change is not wildly significant, and the fandom is growing fairly quickly, so I don't think it's a huge difference, but I still wanted to talk about it briefly. My biggest theory is just that as other languages have gained more works, Spanish has not grown quite as quickly in that time. Portuguese went up a bit, meaning its percentage has likely cut into Spanish's, alongside a few others gaining works. Remember that percentages work like a pie chart-- when one percentage increases, one or more of the rest must decrease. I don't have many other theories, and again, I don't think this is that huge of a difference.

French has works now! Honestly, this is completely unsurprising to me. French creators have had far more time to settle in, get involved in lore, and French fans have had more time to get interested in the server generally. Hope to see many more to come!

I don't have any significant analysis when it comes to the Malay fic, other than that I think the nature of QSMP will continue to encourage new fics in new languages. QSMP is about cross-cultural communication and encouraging people to speak their own languages as well as learn about others'; I think it makes perfect sense for people to want to write fic in their native languages, even more so than a typical fandom. Excited to see this continue, particularly in the case of minority and endangered languages.

Translation! I brought this up in the last post, so I don't want to carry on about it too much, but there are still plenty of works that are translations, which I think is very cool. Translation is a huge element of the server and of the fandom and I think it's really lovely that people took on the very arduous effort of translating theirs and others' works into other languages. Massive kudos!

Otherwise, I think my analysis from last time stands-- tl;dr, QSMP is far more likely to have Spanish and Portuguese works than AO3 generally because of the nature of the server, the server members, and the way that Spanish MCYT fandom in particular has grown in the last several years.

Last time I talked about Eng, Esp, and Prt-br speakers being really central to lore, and this time I would just add that I think several French members, namely Baghera and Etoiles, have made themselves significant within lore and just all-around fan favorites, so I hope to continue to see more works in French but also just more works about them in general. Cellbit is still hot, that hasn't changed, and I think the dynamics of streamer attractiveness aren't really something key to this kind of analysis, although they're certainly interesting.

Disclaimers, Conclusions, Final Notes:

I am not a statistician! I just think fandom stats are interesting. If I did any math wrong, please let me know. I also want to note that I'm not doing any particularly quantitative analysis here aside from turning work numbers into percentages, and that is partially intentional, as I don't think there's enough works at this time to do anything really strenuous, just to make some observations.

Going to copy-paste this note from last time, as well, as I think it's an important element about the multilingualism of the QSMP that is less common in other fandoms:

Due to the nature of the server, there is also a huge number of works that contain elements of multiple languages, ranging from a few works to a decent chunk of the dialogue swapping between languages. This is not completely unheard of in fandoms, of course, as there are many fandoms which provide the opportunity for multilingualism, but this is fun to note because it's so present in the canon itself. I would argue there's a decent number of fics that are themselves bilingual/trilingual/multilingual, and I wish AO3 had a way of tagging them as such. I'm not sure if there are any freeforms along those lines, but I have seen some folks noting in their tags that there's some amount of Spanish/Portuguese in them as well as English, and the same goes for the Spanish fics I've looked at.

^ I hope that continues to be a trend in fic, and I think that it continues the spirit of multilingualism both on the server and in the fandom.

Once again, here is the link to the stats as of June 6, 2023, and I hope you all enjoyed looking at these numbers!

#bell.txt #qsmp #qsmp stats #ao3 stats

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alicesadventuresinffxiv · 1 month ago

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What are the most popular F/F Final Fantasy XIV ships?

(*on AO3, as of October 13, 2024)

I like writing femslash, so while I was doing the FFxivWrite challenge, I had the thought: wouldn’t it be fun to try writing each of the top 10 most popular FFXIV F/F ships?

I figured it would be a good way for me to learn to write characters I wasn’t used to, plus hopefully it would mean some of the well-liked but rarely-written pairings would get more fic for them!

But then I ran head-first into the question: what are those F/F ships? I hit some interesting challenges attempting to figure that out, so here’s a post about how I reached my answer!

First things first: I’m using AO3 stats for this analysis, entirely because AO3 has the most robust searching and filtering tools. Trying to wrangle this kind of analysis on tumblr or twitter would be a nightmare, as much as I’d love to know the answer on those sites!

Second, let’s quickly double check my assumption that F/F ships are indeed rarepairs in this fandom.

Yep, if you’re at all familiar with @centrumlumina's work on AO3 stats (which this analysis is somewhat inspired by ^^;), this is exactly in line with general fandom trends! For reasons that I understand intellectually but not in my heart, F/F fics tend to hover at around 6% of AO3 output overall.

Interestingly, this small slice of femslash makes FFXIV more similar to large, broad fandoms like the MCU or MHA (pictured above), and less similar to other online multiplayer videogame fandoms (pictured below). You might think that given its friendly reputation, FFXIV would attract more women and/or LGBTQ+ players and therefore have a higher proportion of femslash. But nope!

(Admittedly, pitting FFXIV against the fandom that contains Arcane feels a little unfair... :P)

So alright, with that out of the way, let’s start by doing the obvious thing. Hey AO3, what are the top 10 relationship tags when searching FFXIV on the F/F category?

[Note: Since the Warrior of Light is typically written as the author’s original character - especially in cases with multiple WoLs - I am combining the WoL/WoL and WoL/OC tags together.]

If you’ve been in FFXIV spaces for a while, you probably already guessed the #1 result! But as someone relatively new to the fandom, I was actually quite surprised. None of my previous fandoms had nearly this much focus on original characters!

Indeed, WoL/NPC ships and OC/ OC ships absolutely dwarf the numbers for any NPC/NPC ships, with the exception of the three largest M/M pairings (Aymeric/Estinien, Emet-Selch/Hythlodaeus, and Thancred/Urianger). Also, given that not everyone tags their OCs using either of the WoL or OC tags (ack! please use tags, your works get lost otherwise!)… you can always expect results for OCs to be an undercount. Woah!

Anyway, since WoL ships are so huge, I decided it made the most sense to give them their own list:

Another thing that surprised me is that male characters in FFXIV are so many times more popular than female characters that genderbent M/M pairings will show up in these F/F lists.

And… I wasn’t quite sure how to count those ships in my tallies.

On the one hand, genderbending (not to mention trans headcanoning-ing!) characters is a fun and often subversive way to approach popular ships. More power to everyone doing it!

On the other hand, part of the underlying motivation for my own writing goal was that I wanted to write pairings that fandom somewhat overlooks.

As such, I went with a compromise: I’m including pairings with canonically male characters in my graphs (those are the pink bars), but I kept the lists going until I reached 10 pairings involving characters who are portrayed as women in the source material.

(There were no nonbinary FFXIV characters which placed on any of my lists, sadly. Apologies to Feo Ul, who is still the loveliest of branches in my heart.)

Other than that caveat, the results here aren’t too far off from my own guesses. Anecdotally, I’d seen that a lot of WoLs are self-inserts for their players, so it makes sense that typical WoL ships are with NPCs that are generally considered to be attractive by the fanbase. Correspondingly, the Reader/Character fics that are somewhat common in other fandoms don’t even rank on these lists, which might suggest WoL/NPC ships are largely fulfilling that niche.

(Something something, FFXIV is a dating sim with combat, in this essay I will…. :P)

Anyway, WoL ships are nice, but what I actually wanted to write were NPC/NPC ships. So let’s add a bunch more excludes to the filtering… and…

Hm. That's interesting. There's a bunch of F/F ships that I know I’ve seen fic and art for that are missing from this list!

Out of curiosity, I did a few searches specifically on these missing pairings, in case they were so rarely tagged as purely F/F (or so commonly shipped alongside a WoL ship) that trying to find them via excludes didn’t work. These were:

Alisaie/Tesleen (20 total, 13 tagged F/F)

Krile/Tataru (14 total, 7 tagged F/F)

Ysayle/Heustienne (5 total, 5 tagged F/F)

Wuk Lamat/Sphene (4 total, 4 tagged as F/F)

[Note: The first number is what I used during the writing challenge last month… which is how I ended up putting Krile/Tataru over Lucia/Hilda. Oops! But the second number is more in line with the rest of the analysis here, so I will use that going forward.]

Seems my expectations were flat-out incorrect! Of these four, only Alisaie/Tesleen makes the top ten. Meanwhile Wuk Lamat/Sphene is a pairing consisting of very new characters... so perhaps it will grow over time!

Right then, let's add Alisaie/Tesleen in, and while we're at it, let's run direct searches on all the potential candidates rather than using excludes to ensure no fics are getting needlessly thrown out.

With those adjustments in place... I reached my final top ten!

Not bad! Predictably, pairings that get more focus in canon (Gaia/Ryne and Sadu/Cirina) tend to place high, as do pairings involving Y’shtola (since she’s a very popular character overall).

As a Lyse-enjoyer, I found Lyse getting 3/10 spots on the list to be pretty funny, as was the heavy presence of Stormblood characters! Apparently I’m not the only one who thought StB was a good expansion for lesbians. :D

There are also a few pairings here that I hadn’t ever considered before doing this analysis. But hey, that was the point of making the list! And trying to figure out the dynamics for pairings I didn’t usually ship did indeed turn out to be a fun writing exercise last month.

So what do you all think, tumblr? Did the results surprise you like they did me? Or did I overlook a pairing that really deserved to be included?

In any case, I hope you enjoyed reading this analysis!

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxiv analysis #fandom stats #fanfic #wolship #femslash #wlw #my ramblings #read more #I was thinking of analyzing race/ethnicity stats too #but boy oh boy attempting that would be like...#multiple nested cans of worms #if there's interest I might make an attempt though!#also it looks like I owe everyone a lucia/hilda fic sometime #hehe

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sapphires-and-silver-linings · 1 year ago

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Half-Life | Chapter Four

You realized then how delicate this all still was.

Pairing: Plaga!Leon S. Kennedy/F!Chubby!Paranormal Investigator!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Mutual Pining, Angst, Sexual Tension, Masturbation, Blood, Body Horror, Animal Injury & Death

Notes: Heeeeey, guys. It's been a minute since I last posted, but here is chapter 4 (finally)! My summer has been more busy and stressful than I ever could have imagined, so I'm happy to finally be able to finish this chapter, which is the longest chapter of anything I've ever written at just over 14k words!!! I keep breaking my own personal record every time I write, it feels like lol. I also think this is some of the best writing I've ever done and I'm extremely proud of it! Not sure when chapter 5 will come out, as school is starting back up for me soon and a couple people I know irl are getting married this fall, so I'll be traveling a lot as well. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it! Let me know your thoughts! (And here's a little behind-the-scenes tidbit: the painting I describe at the beginning of this chapter is actually in RE4R in the grand hall!)

Masterlist | Previous | Next

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

You awoke before Leon, for once.

You couldn’t stop yourself from sitting up on your air mattress and looking at his curled-up form, finally allowed to take in his appearance fully without having to sneak a glance or risk embarrassing yourself and him by getting caught staring.

You had yet to see him so at peace until this moment. He was laid atop his blankets, nearly in the fetal position, one long arm tucked under his pillow while the other was slung across his exposed midriff. His appendages were retracted again and his tail was hanging off the side of the bed, twitching slightly in his slumber. His breaths were deep and even, and his messy blond hair covered his closed eyes.

Never in your life did you think a literal monster could be so damn cute—so damn attractive in ways most humans hadn’t been to you before. Even the ones you dated. You wondered what that said about you.

As you gazed at Leon, you were reminded of the day before, a lovely warmth settling over you like that of the sun spilling in from the window above.

You could feel yourself blush as you recalled him carrying you across the bridge; how he had plucked a flower just to stick it into your hair; the fact he was willing to dance with you in the dilapidated ballroom simply because you asked; the way he played into your little game as you sat upon the throne, faces so near, you could brush your nose against his if you had just moved a little bit closer.

But then he had pulled away, leaving you breathless… and confused.

You weren’t sure why he would humor you with the flirting and the lingering glances and the gentle touches just to distance himself again—why he was holding himself back.

It was maddening, and you struggled to muster the courage to ask him about it or take matters into your own hands. Because, if you were honest with yourself, you were terrified of what it would mean if you did.

Worst case scenario, he would reject you and send you away. It would sting, but you had grown accustomed to the feeling; almost expected it by now. Besides, you were going to leave anyway, weren’t you?

Best case scenario, though? He would reciprocate and then… what? What could come of this? Would you still go home and let this remain as some passionate, short-lived fling? Would you work out how to stay and leave your entire life—friends and family—behind? Or would you come and visit him when you could manage it, living some kind of half-life split between your world and his?

Every outcome you could think of seemed to hurt, and you thought maybe it would be better to keep things as they were; tense but platonic.

However, being with him was so easy. Natural as breathing (when he wasn’t stealing your breath away, that is). Sure, there had been hiccups and misunderstandings. The both of you were stubborn and set in your ways, but you put your differences to rest so quickly.

But god, were you different. The type of different that you thought before meeting him would never work. As a human, he was handsome. Devastatingly so. Could have been a model, had he chosen another career.

And, most notably, he could have had anyone he wanted.

You had come to love your body with all its curves and marks, but you doubted he would even look your way if you had crossed paths in another life.

You knew it wasn’t fair to yourself or to him to compare who he was to who he is now, considering how much he had gone through over the years and his transformation. However, you couldn’t help but think the attention you were getting from him came from loneliness and nothing more.

If anyone else had been just as stupid and nosy as you, he probably would have acted this way towards them in your stead.

Could you so easily be replaced?

Your chest clenched painfully at the thought and you forced yourself to look away from him, eyes bouncing around the room until they landed on the painting hung on the nearby wall.

It was a beautiful depiction of the castle—how it must have looked when it was occupied by people instead of dust and crumbling stone. The colors were vibrant, and a couple in the foreground were walking away from it, arm in arm. You admired it for a long while, feeling a sense of serenity overtake your anxious mind for a moment.

And then memories of the day prior flooded it instead, how you and Leon had spent the rest of the evening making crude wooden frames for the paintings you had “borrowed” from the castle, carefully finding the best places to hang the new pieces on his once empty walls.

Leon acted like he didn’t care, letting you decide for him, but you caught him glancing at the artwork from time to time, a gentle smile on his face at the way they brightened up his home.

You knew once you left he would be lonely again. You hoped if you could make these changes for him it might be enough to keep him content, even for just a little while. And, selfishly, you felt that if you couldn’t have him, you could at least inject remnants of yourself into his life. Maybe then he’d think of you the way you knew you’d think of him until your last breath.

Everything about it was unfair.

You heard a rustle and a quiet call of your name, your gaze meeting the half-lidded one of Leon as he sat up to look at you. He let out a yawn, his impossibly wide mouth gaping open in a way you once thought to be terrifying, those razor teeth glinting in the low light of the morning sun. Now, as he blinked the sleep from his red eyes, you found it more endearing, like the maw of a cat. Precious in all its sharp edges.

“Good morning,” you told him softly, a smile playing on your lips as if you hadn’t nearly worried your teeth through them moments ago.

“Mornin’. You been up long?” he asked as he swept his hair from his face. You wished you could do it for him, but you pushed that thought deep down instead.

“Not long. Was just looking at the painting,” you replied, half-lying as you pointed at the artwork in question.

His gaze trailed up to it, a small grin alighting his bizarrely beautiful features. “It really was a great idea, bringing them back here. Makes the place a lot less depressing.”

“I have those, occasionally,” you joked, pulling yourself to your feet. “I’m gonna start breakfast if you’re interested in something other than fish.”

With a tilt of his head, he asked, “What’re you makin’?”

You smirked as you walked up to him. “You can find out for yourself if you get dressed and meet me downstairs.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, catching you off guard by leaning in close, so tall that even sitting down he was the same height as you were standing. “So demanding, bunny.”

You scoffed. “Forgive me. Please get dressed and meet me downstairs. Better?”

“Baby steps.”

Splaying your hand against his chest, you teasingly shoved him, “Whatever. I’ll just cook without you.”

He grabbed your wrist, clawed fingers cool against your skin, causing a shiver to run through you. “C’mon, you’re breaking my heart here.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes, pulling slightly against his hold. “Then be good and do as you’re told.”

He sighed dramatically, releasing you from his grip. “Yes, ma’am.”

You grinned triumphantly, gently tapping your finger against the tip of his nose. It caused him to scrunch up his face in a way that made you laugh, and then you turned on your heels and strolled to the door.

You glanced back at him as he stood and stretched. “Bacon and eggs, by the way.”

“Now that’s something I can’t pass up.”

“Figured.” And with that, you were on your way.

You kickstarted your morning by brushing your teeth and washing your face in the sink, then quickly got dressed so you could begin working on breakfast.

Leon was swift to join you, staying out of your way as he would be little help with his claws but keeping you company regardless. You made sure to leave his eggs runny and his bacon undercooked to abide by his more primal eating habits.

Soon enough, the two of you were at the table, sitting across from each other as was becoming the norm. It all felt so… domestic.

“Got any plans I need to know about?” he inquired after emptying his plate.

You swallowed the bite you had been chewing, glancing out of the nearby window. “It’s a nice day out. Pretty warm for autumn. Would that lake trip I mentioned yesterday be out of the question?”

“Don’t see why we can’t. And there’s lots to see. I think you’re going to have a good time.”

“With you? Always.”

You could have sworn a faint pink rose to his face, but he was quick to stand and place his used dishes in the sink, so you couldn’t be certain.

After a quick prep for the trip, you headed down to the lake, Leon helping you get onto the boat, which rocked violently as you stepped onto it, to your dismay. He chuckled as you grappled his shoulders to steady yourself, slowly lowering onto the bench beneath you.

“Not too keen on a swim, huh?” he teased you.

“Not fully clothed, at least,” you muttered in reply.

He simply smirked at that but didn’t respond.

Leon smoothly directed the loud motorboat to the first location you had agreed upon back at the house, which was a small cave that held a wooden shack inside. It was such a strange little place, but you liked to hear the echo of your voices bounce off the cave walls, as well as the sound of the boat gently slapping against the dock.

The headless statue with the dark stains on it—that looked an awful lot like old blood—made you uneasy, but you could see yourself camping out at a place like this.

After that, Leon said he was taking you to what he called “chicken island”, which made you laugh.

“Can’t imagine why they’d call it that,” you mused.

“It had chickens there if you can believe it,” was his deadpan response.

And he didn’t lie. Although the birds were no longer present, many rusted cages full of straw nests were stacked across the small area and worn feathers littered the ground. There wasn’t much to it, as he had warned, but you felt the need to at least say you had been to such a silly place.

He then took you into another cave, pulling up to a large dock with only your flashlight as a guide. You climbed up the ladder to the deck above—a place that you had passed through to get to the lake in the first place—to sit on a crate and eat your lunch.

Time was passing rather quickly while out on the water, and you worried if you spent too much time dawdling, you’d have to come back the next day and waste precious hours you could be doing other things.

The end of your visit here was coming up sooner than you’d like, after all.

You were halfway through your sandwich, giving the room a more intense sweep, when your eyes fell upon the elevator in the corner. You had pointed it out before, but Leon wasn’t keen on using it, as the generator keeping the thing in service had long since lost fuel.

Apparently, there had been a shooting range with moving targets on the floor below, to your bewilderment. There was also one inside the castle and another in the mines beneath it, though Leon told you it was too dangerous to trek the old shafts.

You glanced at the counter next to the elevator and a thought came to your mind. “Hey, Leon, you said there were moving targets in the shooting range, right?”

He looked at you quizzically but nodded, mouth full of sliced ham.

You giggled at the sight, but continued your questioning, “So if they were moving, was someone controlling them?”

He swallowed thickly before answering, “Yeah... This guy I just referred to as ‘The Merchant’. He popped up all over the village while I was trying to save Ashley. Helped me a lot by selling me supplies. He was in charge of the shooting ranges around here.”

“How did he know where you’d end up in time to set up shop? And how did he avoid getting infected with the parasite?”

Leon clicked his tongue. “Your guess is good as mine. He was… weird… but he did me a solid, so I figured it would be best not to ask questions. Even sold me some things to live on after I turned. He never came back after that.”

“Do you wish he did?” you asked, unable to stop yourself from prying. It was a bad habit, you knew, but you couldn’t help it.

You wanted to get to know Leon in every capacity, even though leaving would only hurt worse if you did. You must've been a masochist, then.

He sighed wearily, crossing his arms. “If I’m being honest… every day I wished someone would come back. Didn’t matter who. Used to lay awake at night and think about Claire or Ashely or Ad—” he paused at that, and you were going to ask what name he was about to say when he continued, “Anyway, I used to imagine them coming to find me. Just to say hi, I guess. To see how I was doing. But they never did. Not that they should. I told Ashley not to come back for her safety, and to not tell anyone I was alive. Don’t know why I hoped she’d break her promise.”

“Well,” you started, reaching over and wrapping your fingers around his hand, “at least I’m here.”

“Yeah, and I’m glad for it, even if it's just for a week.” He was staring down at your knuckles and you wanted nothing more than to coil your arms around him, but you refrained.

You considered him for a long moment instead, all your overthinking from earlier being tossed out of your mind as you promptly made a decision, saying, “I could always come back. Make this a yearly trip or something.”

His gaze jumped up to your own, then, shock evident in his pale features. “And why would you do that?”

You let out a huff of laughter. Was he really that clueless? Well, you weren’t about to give him the full truth—that you were utterly infatuated with him—instead replying, “Because I’m your friend, aren’t I?”

“Friend,” he repeated, voice low. Was there a hint of disappointment in his tone, or did you imagine it? “Yeah, I guess at this point, you really are. But I don’t know if it would be a good idea for you to come back.”

“Why?” You felt hurt by that, but you tried to hide it behind a nonchalant attitude, attempting to sound more curious than bitter.

“We’re wasting daylight,” he said instead of answering you, standing up from his crate. “We should keep moving.”

You stood up, too, confusion and frustration circling in your head like vultures. “Fine, but this conversation isn’t over, Leon.”

“Hm,” was all he replied, already making his way to the boat before you even finished zipping up your backpack.

The short trip to the other side of the cave was one full of awkward silence. You didn’t want to show that you were annoyed, but it was difficult to mask it while he was giving you the cold shoulder.

You realized then how delicate this all still was. A few days together was not enough time for him to fully open up to you. You were upset, but he had a stormy history—one he wasn’t keen on sharing.

Whether it was to protect himself from the vulnerability or spare you from the weight of his past, you didn’t know. But you wanted nothing more than to assure him that he meant something to you. That he could trust you.

You kept your mouth shut.

Despite the change in attitude, Leon was still quick to help you out of the boat. It was something you appreciated, given your apparent lack of sea legs.

Your concerned thoughts were replaced with a renewed sense of awe, though, as you shone your flashlight over the cave walls and rushed forward. Leon simply followed behind you while you explored the place, as he made a habit of doing since your arrival.

You found another headless statue stained in dark brown, to your disgust, but not much else resided in the labyrinthine tunnels.

You went back to the boat, and as you were about to leave the area altogether, you pointed out another small dock nearby. “What’s over there? Can we go?”

He seemed hesitant, shoulders tensing, but he eventually nodded, pulling up alongside it.

Once on solid ground, you were swift in finding a painting on the cave wall, which was a large and very old map of the lake with what looked like a whale in the center.

“What is that?” You asked Leon, the uneasy silence from just before fading as your curiosity took root in its stead.

He grimaced as if remembering something terrible. “Del Lago. Giant fish monster in the lake. I killed it, though, so don’t worry.”

“Ah, a Spanish Nessie, then,” you teased despite your horror at such a concept. “Must have been old, if this painting is anything to go by.”

“Its body sank to the bottom of the lake pretty much as soon as I downed the thing,” he said, looking up at the depiction of the creature. “It’s almost a shame, what happened to it.”

“Why, cos you killed an ancient majestic beast?”

He turned to you with a smile. “No, cos I wasted all that meat.”

You laughed and he chuckled in response, the awkward tension from earlier finally giving way to the easygoing banter you enjoyed so much.

“C’mon, there’s more to explore,” you urged, grabbing his wrist and pulling him along.

Near the mural was a shrine with two large hands sticking up from the cave floor, a head sitting in either stone palm.

Well, that explains the headless statues, you mused.

You moved on quickly after that, the cave giving way to a forested path. You made a face as you skirted past a sacrificial altar, gripping Leon a little tighter.

After having to crawl underneath a tiny gap in a stone formation, you made it to a fork in the path, a small building to your right, and a winding trail to your left.

“What’s over there?” you asked Leon as you pointed to the trail, leaning down to wipe the dirt from your clothes.

He seemed to freeze before responding a little too quickly, “Not much. And that cabin just leads to another dock. We should head back to the boat.”

“Oh, c’mon, we’re already here! Might as well take a peek!” you chirped, marching onto the trail.

Leon didn’t argue, but he was tense as he followed you up to the end of the path.

You were more than a little confused by what you found there.

“Graves?” you questioned aloud as you looked upon the two crosses made crudely of sticks, names carved into the wood. They weren’t next to each other like you’d expect, but spread apart and angled toward the center of the dead-end path. “How strange. The only other ones I’ve seen were in the church cemetery.”

“Yeah, strange,” Leon muttered behind you, sounding almost… nervous? You wondered why.

You leaned down to the cross on the left, barely able to make out the name “Luis Serra Novarro” on the wood. An old lighter was on the ground beside it. You wondered if it even worked anymore with how long it looked to be sitting there.

You then crouched before the other cross, “Major Jack Krauser” etched messily upon the surface.

“Well, his name isn’t very local-sounding,” you joked of the latter.

Leon didn’t reply, but you were too distracted by what was dug into the ground in front of the cross to comment on it. It was a large knife with an engraving of a snake on its rusted blade.

“Wow, that’s cool,” you mused, reaching out to pull it from the dirt. It felt like a waste to leave such a well-crafted weapon just sitting there.

“Stop!” Leon barked, lunging forward and yanking your hand from where it brushed against the scales.

Shocked, you pulled away and stood up, taking a step back at the snarl on his face. “Whoa, what’s wrong? The thing booby-trapped or something?”

He sighed, his expression turning weary instead of angry. “No, just… would like to respect the dead.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Respect the dead? You piled up human corpses at the entrance to the village. Not sure how that’s exactly—” You stopped mid-sentence, realization hitting you as you took in the miserable look on Leon’s face. “You… you knew these guys, didn’t you?”

He grimaced at your words but slowly nodded in response.

“Who were they?”

Leon crossed his arms over his chest tightly, as if to hug himself, before jerking his head to the grave on the left. “Luis helped me and Ashley. He actually saved me from him, too,” he said, looking at the grave to the right. “He was killed by that very knife.”

“Why bury this guy next to your friend if he murdered him?” You were flabbergasted by this whole thing, desperate to make sense of Leon’s strange actions.

He winced at that. “He was my mentor. Trained me to be an agent in the first place. Without him, I don’t think I could have survived.”

“What caused him to change?”

Leon decided to plop onto the ground, his tail whipping in agitation along the dirt. You joined him, sitting cross-legged beside his slouched figure, waiting for him to say something.

“He was betrayed by the very country he fought to protect. His whole unit was wiped out and he was badly injured, unable to fight like he used to. He ended up going MIA and joined the cult. They infected him with the Plagas, too. I had to fight him. I had to—” he stopped to take a steadying breath, “I had to kill him. With that same blade. His blade.”

“I’m so sorry, Leon,” was all you could offer him, placing your hand over his and squeezing gently. He closed his claws into a fist and squeezed back.

“I buried Luis first,” he began. “Had to go into the mines to retrieve his body, ferry it out here. Then I went to the island on the other side of the castle to find Krauser. The whole place had collapsed in on itself, but I had hoped I could get to him. Dug in the rubble for days, but… couldn’t find a body. The knife is all I had left of him, so now it’s here.”

“I see,” you said quietly, staring down at the muddled reflection of Leon’s dirt-covered leg in the rusted blade. “Why’d you place their graves so far out of the way?”

“It’s secluded. Quiet. Peaceful,” he replied, head tilting towards the sky and closing his eyes. “Figured I would bury Wolfie here, too, when he eventually dies. Just thought it would be a good place to…”

You saw him swallow back his words.

“A good place to what?”

He sighed and shook his head before looking at you, those red eyes so hauntingly melancholy, it made your heart ache. “A good place to rest.”

The two of you sat quietly in the dirt, simply holding hands and watching the breeze ripple through the foliage surrounding you.

He’s right, you thought, comforted by the shade of trees, yet still able to make out the blue of the sky above, it is a good place to rest.

You knew Leon grieved the life he once lived, so evident in the way he carried himself—the way he spoke. But this kind of loss was news to you. You never realized just how much weight he carried.

You were determined to lighten the burden in any way you could.

“Come on,” you told him, finally standing. “We have one last stop, don’t we?”

He didn’t need your help to get to his feet, but he still took your outstretched hand, giving you a small, grateful smile when he towered over you once more. “Yeah. We do.”

Before you knew it, you were back on the motorboat, heading straight to the center of the lake for your last location.

You had seen the old, half-sunk fishing vessel from the shore, but wanted to explore it last for the hell of it. You were glad you made that decision, hoping that spending more time on the calm waters might lift Leon’s spirits.

He came to a stop at the port of the large wooden boat, gracefully exiting onto the dilapidated vessel before reaching his hand out and pulling you onto the algae-slick deck with him.

“Careful,” he warned, releasing his hold on you. “The boards are pretty damaged. Wouldn’t want you to fall through.”

“Yes, sir,” you teased, but you took your time walking around, just in case. You heard him chuckle as you shuffled slowly forward, giving him a lighthearted glare in response.

There really wasn’t much to see of the place, only able to access the front of it.

You leaned against the railing of the bow after a brief sweep of the area, looking out onto the blue, blue water. It was beautiful, and you could see why Leon would spend hours fishing out here beyond catching a meal or two.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, finding him leaning against the front of the cockpit, his eyes already on you. You wished you knew what he was thinking when he looked at you like that. You hid your blush by turning back around.

You placed your hands on the railing, a light giggle escaping you as a thought crossed your mind.

“What’s so funny?” he questioned, and you knew he was smiling without needing to face him.

You tapped your fingers on the wood. “You ever see the movie Titanic?”

He scoffed but didn’t answer, instead stepping closer. Before you knew what was happening, he had gently tugged your arms up, holding them in the air as he leaned down to place his chin on your shoulder. Your breath was caught in your throat by the proximity, his own tickling your cheek.

“Was this what you had in mind, bunny?” he asked you, voice low and teasing in a way that made your stomach flip. You kept your arms up as he slid his hands down to rest on your waist and you wondered if you would pass out from your inability to pull oxygen into your lungs.

You needed to get yourself together, so you forced out a nervous laugh before saying, “If only we had Celine Dion playing in the background. I think we’d be dead ringers for the remake.”

Leon laughed heartily. “I can’t imagine they’d do a remake of such a nineties classic.”

You giggled, turning slightly to meet his eye. “They remake everything these days.”

“Well, I don’t think I have what it takes to play Jack, but you’re pretty enough to go on the big screen.”

Oh.

That compliment made heat flood your whole body, though you didn’t want him to notice it. “What are you talking about? You’re practically Leo DiCaprio two-point-oh.”

“Mm, maybe ten years ago,” he mused, pulling away from you, to your chagrin. “C’mon, we should head back to the house.”

You pouted as you turned to face him. “But I don’t want to yet!”

“Well, there’s not much left to do out here,” he replied, as if coaxing you to follow his lead.

But that wasn’t exactly your style, now was it?

Instead, you let your hair down from its messy bun, kicked off your shoes and socks, and yanked your shirt over your head.

Leon’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as you stripped in front of him, pulling your jeans off and leaving yourself only in your underwear. You could tell he was trying not to stare, focusing solely on your face as he choked out, “What the hell are you doing?!”

Still, you saw his gaze drop to your bare skin. You felt utterly exposed, but you weren’t ashamed.

In fact, you felt good.

You felt free.

You sat on the railing of the boat, smiling wickedly at him as you flipped your legs over the edge. “I told you if I was going to have a swim, it wouldn’t be fully clothed, didn’t I?”

Before he could say anything else, you plunged into the water.

It was so cold, you locked up for a moment, your body shocked by the sudden change in temperature. You stayed under for a few seconds, willing yourself to adjust before breaching the surface.

You wiped the water from your eyes, blinking up at Leon as he hung off the bow of the boat. It looked like he was about to dive in after you, as if he was worried you wouldn’t come back up.

His concern for you warmed you right up.

“Are you serious?” he interrogated, breathing out a sigh of disbelief. “You said it was too cold to bathe out here, but you’ll take an afternoon swim?”

“Definitely too cold for a bath,” you replied, nodding sagely. “But you should still come join me!”

“Absolutely not. You’re crazy, you know that?”

You smiled, all teeth. “What was your first clue, sweetheart?”

He scoffed. “You showing up here in the first place, probably.”

“So…” you began, “you should learn to expect the unexpected. And jump in. I know the cold doesn’t bother you, Leon.”

He sighed, staring over at the shore for a moment before turning to face you once more. “Fine.”

You whooped in victory as he stepped back from the railing, and then bit your lip as you watched him pull off his shirt, revealing his lean, taut upper body. His legs were obscured by the boat as he tore his pants from them, but you got a good look when he leapt onto the ledge of the bow. You had to crane your neck to take in all of him, grazing your eyes up his muscled form, covered only by boxer briefs.

Before you could stare for too long, he dove into the water behind you, and you covered your eyes as it splashed up in a small wave.

He quickly rose to the surface, flipping his blond hair from his face.

“See? Not so bad,” you told him, paddling closer to where he was treading.

“Guess not.”

You were about to speak again when you felt something large slither along your leg. You yelped, pulling your body away from the sensation. “Oh my god, something just touched me!”

Leon shrugged. “Probably just a fish.”

“No, no, it was definitely a snake!” you told him, eyes staring down as if you could see into the dark water.

“It’s possible. There’re vipers in the area, I told you that before.” He seemed to be taking joy in your distress and you glared at him angrily for it.

“Leon, if that’s true, I need out RIGHT now.”

You began to swim towards the motorboat, suddenly very over this whole situation, when something touched your leg again. You screamed as it wrapped around your ankle, pulling you under the water.

You weren’t under for very long, whatever it was almost immediately releasing you. You sputtered as you pushed your head above the surface, panicking.

But then you heard Leon laughing hysterically nearby, and the realization that he was just screwing with you hit you like a brick.

“Oh, you asshole!” you yelled, wading back over to him and shoving his chest in rage.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just had to,” he told you between laughs.

“Yeah, you will be.” With that, you splashed his face with water, feeling smug that you got him before he could use his arm as a shield.

You splashed him a few more times until he lunged toward you, grabbing your arms, “Okay, we’re even now. Happy?”

He released you and you pretended to think about it for a moment, easing closer. Your faces were mere inches apart, and you wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss him. You weren’t sure how the action would even work, considering his protruding fangs, but that didn’t stop you from wanting to find out.

He seemed to edge nearer, and you wondered if he had the same idea.

But your nerves got the better of you.

Instead, you jumped up and shoved his shoulders down, dunking him completely under the water.

It was your turn to laugh as he came back up, his wet hair covering his eyes. “Now I’d say we’re even.”

He pushed the strands from his face and shook his head, chuckling. “Yeah, I deserved that.”

Before you could say something else, the sky seemed to darken suddenly. You still had a couple hours of daylight left, so you glanced up, confused. You saw that clouds had converged over the sun, looking awfully heavy.

Something splattered against your forehead, and you wiped it off, realizing it was a raindrop. Several more began to fall on and around you, and you knew it was time to head back to shore.

You and Leon quickly got dressed as the sprinkle of rain turned into a steady shower, dampening your once-dry clothes. Still, you made the time to glance at Leon’s cute butt as he leaned down to pull up his pants, and when you turned to put on your own, you could feel his eyes on you too.

Thankfully, Leon decided to head back to the cave, the rain only coming down harder as you finally entered it. Leon moored the boat, and the two of you hurried through to the quarry.

A flash of light streaked across the sky as you reached the church, the echoing BOOM that followed it making you jump out of your skin. You must’ve looked like a wet chihuahua with how you shook, both from the sound and the cold rain seeping down to the bone.

Leon turned to face you, his expression concerned. He got close, placing his palms against your arms. “You’re freezing. C’mon, let’s get you home.”

Despite your misery, you couldn’t help but feel warmed by his words.

Let’s get you home.

He said it like it was yours, too.

He grabbed your hand, tugging you along as you rushed back to his place, knowing it was still quite a trek.

You finally made it to the house, and you doubled over as soon as you crossed the threshold, panting heavily from practically jogging the whole way. You were shivering violently, your teeth chattering as you finally caught your breath, when you felt Leon lay his hand across your back.

“Hey, you should get changed. I’ll start a fire,” he urged, eyes soft as he looked at you.

You nodded, doing as he said, wringing your drenched clothes over the tub before hanging them on the sides of it.

Feeling slightly better, you went back into the main room, seeing that Leon had pushed the dining table over and moved the couch in front of the fireplace, where a stack of logs was piled in the hearth.

He was struggling with the matches again, so you gently took them from his hands, alighting the kindling yourself. He simply nodded at you before you sat down on the couch and reached your hands towards the slowly growing flames.

“You’re soaked,” you told him. “Go change. I’ll make dinner when we warm up.”

He smiled down at you as he stood, stroking the top of your head. You never wanted him to stop. “Be right back, then.”

You were finally losing the chill as he returned, sitting down beside you, his tail draped between you on the seat.

Another loud crash of lightning made you cry out, flinching.

“Whoa, there,” he said softly. “You okay?”

You grimaced. “Yeah, I’m not… the biggest fan of storms. I like the rain when I’m cozied up inside, but thunder and lightning… I don’t know. It freaks me out.”

“So you’re afraid of heights, snakes, and storms. Anything else I should know about?” he asked lightheartedly.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not afraid of heights, just falling off a shoddy bridge, thank you very much. And snakes only scare me when they’re venomous and I think they’re slithering around my leg.”

His tail flicked up as you stared pointedly at it, the movement incredibly cute to you. He could really be just like a cat sometimes.

“I stand corrected. Just storms, then,” he teased.

The conversation flowed to other things, but looking around, you realized with sudden concern that Leon’s dog wasn’t nearby. “Hey, where’s Wolfie? Was he upstairs?”

Leon’s brows furrowed at that, standing and glancing around the room. “No… he wasn’t. He usually doesn’t stay out when it storms.”

“Is he okay?” you questioned.

Leon crossed his arms. “I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe staying somewhere out of the rain.”

You nodded, though you worried for the poor dog’s safety.

As you promised, you made dinner—a roast, actually—and you had never seen Leon so excited by something you had cooked thus far (though he wouldn’t touch the potatoes, onions, and carrots that simmered alongside it).

As you worked on washing dishes, you saw Leon staring out of one of the windows, and you knew he was looking for Wolfie. You finished the chore, walking into the main room to stand beside him.

“He’s never been gone this long,” Leon stated with a frown.

You worried your bottom lip. “Maybe… Maybe we should go find him.”

Leon glanced at you, then, brow raised. “I’ll go find him. You should stay here.”

“No way,” you argued, already pulling on your hiking boots. “I’m not letting you go out there alone.”

“You could catch a cold, and that bear is still around. Besides, you hate the thunder and lightning, and it's only getting worse.”

“Well, I’m worried about him too. I want to help.”

He sighed as you stood upright, seeing the determination in your eyes. “Fine, but dress warm.”

You nodded vigorously. “I have a raincoat and a jacket, don’t worry.”

You quickly ran to your luggage, throwing on your hoodie, sliding the raincoat over it, and grabbing your flashlight from your backpack.

You met Leon at the door, the two of you heading out into the dark.

You kept your arm braced above your brows to block the rain from your eyes, the hoods of your jacket and coat pulled over your head still not enough to prevent the onslaught, raking your flashlight over the ground as you and Leon called Wolfie’s name.

You didn’t know how long you were in the storm, and although the clothes on your top half helped to keep you dry and warm, your legs were getting soaked through. You pushed past the discomfort, your concern for Leon’s animal companion taking precedence.

The look of worry on his face was compelling enough to keep moving forward on its own.

You were near the church again, calling out the dog’s name as loud as you could, getting desperate to find him safe, when you heard Leon gasp beside you.

“What?” you questioned.

“This way,” was all he responded, bounding through the woods at a speed you could barely keep up with.

Leon was taking you deep into the forest, and you could focus on little else but his darting form as you followed him, afraid to be left behind in the dark.

You thought you were gaining on him when you tripped over a root, cutting your knee as you fell to the ground, hard. You were quick to pick yourself back up, sprinting after him and gritting your teeth against the pain.

You lost him, though, the realization filling you with panic. You just continued running in the direction you saw him taking off, calling after him frantically.

The thunder rumbled deafeningly from above, making you cower in fright, but you knew you had to keep going. The darkness seemed to encroach upon you, the torrent of rain pelting against your whole body hard enough to hurt.

You don’t think you had ever felt this afraid.

To your relief, you finally caught up to Leon, but it was short-lived when you took in what was ahead of you.

Leon was crouched over, and you could hear him muttering in distress. Before him was Wolfie, laying motionless on his side, four streaks of dark red seeping out of his white fur.

You rushed forward, dropping onto your injured knee, not caring how badly it stung as you assessed the animal in front of you. He was still breathing, thankfully, and letting out quiet little whimpers. The wounds looked deep as you appraised them, wondering what could have done this to him.

As if reading your mind, Leon growled, “It was that damn bear.”

You didn’t respond as he stripped his shirt off, easily ripping it into strips. They were soaked through with rain, but it was better than nothing.

“Here buddy,” Leon reassured Wolfie as he grabbed his own tail.

“What are you doing?”

Ignoring you, he gently pricked the barbed end into the dog’s side, who yelped and writhed at the feeling before near-instantly relaxing.

“Kills the pain,” is all he offered as you looked at him in shock. He then shoved the strips of cloth into your hands. “I’m gonna lift him up and I want you to wrap these around him, okay?”

He’d only ever been this serious when protecting you from that bear two days prior, and you swallowed before nodding in response.

You began to carefully slide the first strip over one of the gashes, about to tie it off, when Leon interjected, “Tight, but not too tight.”

“Got it,” you said, fingers shaking as you followed his direction for each wound. You weren’t sure if it was the cold or the nerves but you managed it well enough.

When you were done, Leon stood. Wolfie was held in his arms, the dog’s blood smearing against his bare chest. It made your stomach twist with unease.

“I have bandages in my first-aid kit,” you told him as he began the trek back to the path, trying to keep up with his long, hurried gait.

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” Leon said. “We can change the bandages, but I don’t know if he’s… I don’t know if he’ll make it.”

You couldn’t reply, tears pricking your eyes at the thought.

Leon’s voice wavered as he continued, “I know he’s old. I knew I’d lose him eventually. But not like this. Not this soon…”

You pushed back your tears, sadness giving way to conviction. “After we replace the bandages, I’m gonna take him to the vet, okay? You’ll have to carry him to my car, but I think if we’re fast, we can do this.”

“What if he dies on the way there?” Leon asked miserably, “I don’t want to be away from him in his last moments.”

“I know it’s a risk, but we have a real chance of saving him, Leon. You told me to trust you yesterday, right? Well, now I need you to trust me.”

He seemed so conflicted but eventually nodded, his features solemn. “Okay. I’ll trust you.”

You reached over and squeezed his arm comfortingly.

God, I hope I’m right about this.

+++

It had been a long time since Leon felt this afraid.

He had lost everything once, and was forced to spend a decade trying to survive the hole that loss gouged out of him. Just a void sitting inside his chest, the edges slowly creeping out to devour what was left.

Wolfie had been there for him in ways humans never were. Even when he wasn’t this grotesque monstrosity, he would rather die than burden someone else with his innate brokenness, preferring to mask it with his need to help or his oftentimes cynical sense of humor.

The truth of the matter? He didn’t know who he was when he wasn’t useful to someone. When he wasn’t a protector. He had never felt so unmoored, going without this self-imposed purpose to drive him forward.

Wolfie had renewed that purpose a month after his transformation, when Leon was at his lowest. He limped up to him with a swollen leg after being bit by a viper, clearly recognizing him despite his mutated features. He had done all he could to nurse the poor dog back to health, and Wolfie hadn’t left his side since.

He sometimes wondered if it was fate that brought them together again—if he allowed himself to believe in something beyond the mundane—but he had renounced god and any other spiritual bullshit ages ago.

He looked down at the dog in his arms, no longer in pain due to his venom’s painkilling properties, but his breaths were still concerningly shallow. He wanted nothing more than to sprint full speed back to the house but worried the movement would only exacerbate Wolfie’s injuries.

He wasn’t completely sure he was okay with letting you take his dog from him—not wanting to miss any precious time he might have left—but he agreed that it was worth a shot to bring him to the vet clinic, even if he couldn’t join you.

He glanced over at you, your teeth gnawing into your bottom lip as you silently walked beside him, and was at least glad you were here with him in this nightmare. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to do this alone.

Eventually, you made it to the house, and he moved aside to let you open the door for him. You both rushed into the building, you grabbing your first-aid kit and a pair of scissors.

You were quick to find the proper bandages, and Leon just held Wolfie’s body out so you could cut off the bloodied strips of his shirt and re-wrap the wounds. Your hands were shaking, but you were careful and methodical, so he didn’t comment on it.

When you finished, you grabbed a blanket and a towel, laying them on the dining table so Leon could bundle the dog tightly inside to protect him from the rain. It was a bit of a walk to the hunting lodge, after all.

You moved away to wash your hands and find your car keys, but Leon could only stare down at your leg as you came back into the room. There were mud and grass stains, which he expected, though he was caught off guard by the knee of your jeans being torn, bright red trickling down your shin in a small but steady stream.

“What happened to your leg?” he questioned, unable to recall when you could have gotten the injury.

“Oh, it's nothing. I just tripped when I was chasing after you. Nearly lost you completely because of it, but I found you pretty fast,” you told him nonchalantly as you packed your bag.

He felt his stomach drop at your words, realizing that he hadn’t once looked back to check on you during his mad dash to find Wolfie. The thought that you were hurt and lost in the middle of the woods during a storm that scared you, and he just left you there, making bile rise to his throat.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. I should have waited for you… I didn’t even know you weren’t behind me anymore…”

You shook your head, smiling at him, but the expression couldn’t hide the exhaustion in your eyes. “It’s okay, I promise. You were worried about Wolfie. I don’t blame you.”

“It’s not okay,” he seethed, his own self-hatred pooling into his chest. “I left you alone in a storm! In the dark! What if that bear was still around, huh? It could have killed you and I left you there, with nothing to defend yourself with!”

“Leon, I’m fine. Nothing happened beyond this little cut.” Your voice was calm and he wished he could hate it. Hate you for how you could talk him into or out of almost anything.

It had been mere days. He didn’t know you, and yet he trusted you implicitly. Trusted you with the life of his only companion.

And then, when he asked you to trust in him, he had sabotaged it in an instant.

He didn’t respond, knowing he might say something he’d regret, so he only watched as you quickly rolled up your pant leg to blot and disinfect the cut. He disliked seeing you in pain, witnessing the way your face screwed up as you used peroxide on the small wound—heard the hiss you made as it bubbled up on your broken skin.

You were wrapping one of the extra bandages over it when Leon looked out the window, the storm only hitting harder as the hours passed. “Maybe we should wait it out. You shouldn’t be driving in this.”

You sighed as you unrolled the leg of your jeans, walking over to stare into the dark with him. “Under normal circumstances, you couldn’t pay me to go out in this weather. But I don’t think we have time to waste, Leon.”

You both glanced over at Wolfie on the table, wrapped up and hopefully comfortable in the blanket. Leon had no choice in this if he didn’t want to lose his dog.

He was meant to protect him and now he was sending him off with someone most people would call a stranger.

Any quality of his that could be halfway useful in this situation, and he wasn’t even there when Wolfie was attacked. And now his only companion was bleeding out on his dining table and he could do nothing to stop it but put him in someone else’s care and hope he lived.

Leon had all this strength, all these heightened senses. His entire body was deemed a weapon. And yet he couldn’t even save his dog.

What was the point of any of it, then?

And what would he have done if you weren’t there to help him? Watch Wolfie slowly die, helpless to prevent it?

Worse still, what if it was you who had been attacked?

He imagined your lifeless body lying in his arms, frightened eyes wide and staring off into nothing, drenched in blood that wouldn’t stop pouring out of you, and he could do absolutely. Fucking. Nothing.

“Come on, Leon. We have to go,” came your gentle voice, pulling him out of his dark thoughts.

He only nodded in response, grabbing Wolfie and heading back out into the downpour, beyond the safety of his home.

The two of you trudged in silence through the village, the storm raging above your heads. He could practically sense your anxiety coming off of you in waves, but you were doing your best to remain stoic. He didn’t know if it was to calm yourself or him, but he appreciated the attempt.

Finally, you made it to the hunter’s lodge, and you spoke up as soon as the door shut out the torrent. “I was wondering, how did you know where Wolfie was? Back there in the forest?”

“The storm dampened it, but I could hear him whimpering from the path. When I got close enough, I could smell the blood.”

“Right, super senses. Thank god for ‘em.”

He glanced at you sharply. “I’d rather have stopped him from getting hurt in the first place.”

“Hey, I know this sucks, but he’s alive and he’s going to stay that way if I have a say in it.”

He really took you in at that. Your face was wet, strands of your hair sticking to your forehead, but the fire in your eyes…

He had no way to know if things would work out the way you wanted, but your conviction—your unyielding, infectious hope—quelled the needling fear, if only for a moment.

He might not believe in god, but angels must be real if you were standing beside him.

You made it to the car shortly after, Leon gently placing Wolfie into the backseat as you threw your bag into the passenger side and sat behind the wheel.

You turned the ignition, the vehicle roaring to life as Leon looked down at you, urging, “Please be careful. I might lose Wolfie, but I can’t lose you too.”

“I will be. I promise.” Before you closed the door, you glanced back up at him, asking, “What are you going to do while we’re gone?”

He clenched his clawed hands into fists, feeling the sharp edges dig into his skin as he grated out, “I’m going to kill that fucking bear.”

You looked shocked by his words but nodded in agreement. “Okay. Good luck.”

And with that, you closed the door.

Leon stepped back to let you drive off, knowing that the fate of his companion was out of his hands.

He exhaled harshly and turned on his heels, ready for the hunt.

Now this is what he was good for.

Shifting onto all fours, Leon was quick to shed his more human qualities for the sake of the kill, sprinting faster than he ever had on his legs alone. He focused solely on his senses to direct him through the downpour and to his prey, feeling his claws digging into the wet earth below.

As he had told you earlier, the storm dampened his abilities, but that wouldn’t stop him from reaching his objective.

In fact, it only made him more hellbent on completing it.

It took him nearly an hour to find where the massive animal was lurking: a cave not far from where he had found Wolfie bleeding into the mud.

Despite its size, there was not much of a fight as Leon latched those deadly teeth of his around its throat and ripped. It barely had time to even register him launching at it before it was wheezing and choking on its own blood.

In this form, Leon was too proficient at killing. A part of him—deep, deep down—wanted to take his time tearing the beast limb from limb, listen to it roar and whine in agony before he finally put it out of its misery.

When its jilted movements eventually stilled, blood coating the cave floor and Leon from his mouth to the knees of his dirty pants, he stumbled back into the wall and closed his eyes tightly.

Vengeance. It was something he understood, but he didn’t see the point of it. Blood for blood’s sake never sat right with him. He only sought to kill out of necessity—to survive.

And yet, here he was, bloodlust finally fading as the bear’s large corpse laid before his weary gaze.

He could pretend all he wanted that this was an act of protection, a means to prevent further attacks in the future, but the sadistic glee he felt when his teeth sunk into warm flesh… there was nothing to excuse that.

This bear was simply living as it was born to do, even in its aggression.

Maybe Leon really was losing his humanity. Not a descent into a mindless killing machine, but a dissipation of self—fully aware of his own cruelty, but basking in it instead of rebuking it.

He wasn’t sure which version scared him most.

He had to make this worth it, then. He had to alleviate this burning shame and break apart the guilt sitting heavy in his gut like a stone.

And so, with care, he carved up the carcass of the once dignified beast and devoured it, leaving only bones and fur in his wake.

It was the only form of reverence he could convey.

He dug a shallow hole in the mud beside the cave, laying the gory remains inside before covering it once more.

The storm had finally started to clear as he finished the task, the scent of petrichor not quite able to hide that of blood.

Unsure of how long it would take for you to return with news of Wolfie’s condition, he rushed over to the hunter’s lodge to wait out the hours.

They passed slowly. Agonizingly. All he could do was curl in on himself and sit just inside the door of the old building, wet with rain and blood and mud.

He once thought his initial transformation was the worst he had ever felt, that it was rock bottom. Before that, it had been what transpired in this village. And before that, it had been the disaster of Raccoon City.

He realized bitterly there was always further to fall.

He wasn’t sure why you were so adamant to befriend him like this. To help him. Was this pity? Was Leon some charity case for you?

But then he thought of the way you smiled at him, the look on your face as he joined you in the cold water of the lake, the way you drifted to him like you were caught in his orbit and couldn’t fight the pull.

The thought that maybe, just maybe, you felt the way he did… it was a jolt across his slumped form.

However, nothing could change what he was. His nature, it was a vicious one. And someday, you might not survive the animal that unfurled inside of him—through him.

Whatever happened after tonight, he knew one thing: his only escape was death.

He would simply wait out the end of your trip, selfishly wanting to wring out any joy he might find in your company, and if Wolfie survived the night, he would send him home with you to live out the rest of his days. He was certain you would take good care of him, provide for him better than Leon could ever hope.

But, he was reminded, Wolfie might not survive.

And it was Leon’s neglect that was to blame.

Useless, useless, useless, he repeated like a mantra in his head.

He never imagined he’d have more to lose than he already did. More to ruin.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, the dawn breaking up the night. The sun’s warmth upon his skin did little to lighten his mood—as it burned more than soothed—but then he thought of the way your soft flesh felt against his and he nearly fell into a dream, eyes drifting shut.

He shot up suddenly at the sound of an approaching vehicle, though, his misery morphing into an all-consuming apprehension.

Was he prepared to grieve?

Your car finally pulled up near the lodge, and he rushed to the side of it, his heart palpitating as he stared into the backseat window.

He saw Wolfie laying there, breathing slow and steady.

He was alive.

Leon had never felt so relieved.

He turned to face you as you opened the door, looking up at him with tired eyes.

Your expression turned to full-blown concern when you took in his appearance, reaching out to touch the blood staining his bare chest. “Are you okay?”

Leon placed his fingers over your hand, holding it close to him, the warmth of it more of a balm than the sun ever was. “I’m fine. It isn’t mine.”

You sighed, eased by his words. “You found the bear, I take it?”

He nodded solemnly. “It won’t bother us anymore.” You didn’t reply and he looked back at Wolfie’s unconscious form once more. “How did everything go? Will he be alright?”

“It went great. He got stitches and a blood transfusion, and they kept him overnight for observation. Went ahead and got him a few shots when they said he was in the clear this morning. He took it all like a champ.” You dropped your hand, to Leon’s chagrin, grabbing your bag from the passenger seat. “They told me to change his bandages every few hours and monitor for any infection. Gave me antibiotics and a few days' worth of painkillers. He should be just fine.”

“What did you tell them about the injury?” he questioned, suddenly concerned by what information you might have let slip in your distress.

“Don’t worry, I told them he got attacked while I was out camping. No specifics, I promise.” A look of realization then dawned on your features, to his confusion, before you began sifting through your bag.

You then pulled out a blue collar from its depths. It jingled as you held it up to Leon, shot tags dangling behind a bone-shaped one at the front, sporting the dog’s name and what he assumed was your number.

“Picked this up before I took him from the clinic. Hope he’ll wear it,” you said, shrugging as you stood from the car.

A flood of emotions washed over Leon, then, namely an overwhelming sense of gratitude for what you had done for him. It went deeper than the collar in your hand, deeper than even saving his dog.

You had faced a storm for him, soaked to the bone and afraid. You suffered being lost in darkness with an injured knee, even if it was only briefly. You drove through a torrent and stayed up all night to make sure his companion would live. You witnessed him covered in blood and filth and you reached out…

You were always reaching out.

Before he could think it through, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. He felt your plush body pressed against his hard edges—heard the way you gasped in shock. You almost immediately settled into it, though, holding him in turn despite the drying grime flaking onto your clothes.

“Thank you, for everything,” he murmured, face buried into your neck, the natural smell of you drifting to his nose. It was all at once sweet and grounding.

There was so much more he wanted to say, but this would have to suffice, the words caught in his throat.

“I’d do it all again in a heartbeat,” you whispered, your small hands sliding across his back soothingly.

The warmth of you made him ache, made his eyes burn, never wanting to let you go.

He knew he must.

The walk back to the house was a silent one, the only sounds the rainwater dripping onto the ground and the squelching of mud underfoot, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The two of you were just exhausted and still reeling from how the night had spiraled to near tragedy.

Leon glanced down at Wolfie’s sleeping form in his arms, so drugged up on pain meds he likely wouldn’t wake for anything. He gave the dog’s head a gentle stroke, beyond relieved that, for now, it wouldn’t be the last time.

The three of you entered Leon’s home, deciding that you would bring Wolfie’s bed and blankets downstairs, nestling them beside the fireplace to keep him comfortable and prevent him from exerting himself more than necessary once he was up and moving again.

Once the dog was settled in, Leon could only stand and stare, worried that if he took his eyes off of him for a moment, he might die in his absence.

“I’ll make you up a bath, Leon,” you said quietly from the kitchen, already bringing a large pot to boil on the stove. “You could really use one.”

He sighed, finally dragging his gaze from Wolfie so that he could level it on you. “Don’t worry about that. I can just clean up at the lake.”

You huffed indignantly, approaching him and taking him in—in all his filthy, monstrous glory. “No way. You need a nice hot bath, and that’s that.”

“You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?” he replied, scoffing good-naturedly. In truth, the thought of you caring for him like this made his heart beat a little faster.

“Oh, I know,” you said with a smile, one that was so sweet, he would hold on to the sight of it for the rest of his life, “but it’s what you like about me.”

He found himself chuckling for the first time since last night, always so surprised by your ability to pull him out of his misery.

“Not the only thing,” he said lowly, fingers twitching at his sides to reach out and touch you again.

Your cheeks flushed pink at his words, but you shook your head and laughed. “Go on, sit down for a bit while I finish what I started.”

He wanted to argue—to assist you in your task—because being waited on like this was something he had never been used to. Instead, he did as he was told, plopping down next to Wolfie on the floor and petting him to pass the time.

He had almost fallen asleep again, unable to fight his eyes from drooping closed, when you called to him, informing him his bath was ready. He stood and stretched, yawning as he met you at the entrance of the side room.

“Here,” you told him, a pile of his clothes, a towel, and a washcloth in your arms, “knock yourself out. Well, don’t really.”

He took them gratefully, smiling at your ridiculous comment as he thanked you and disappeared behind the corner.

He quickly shed what was left of his tattered clothes, dropping them haphazardly onto the floor before stepping into the tub and lowering himself in the water.

It was hot, but it didn’t burn. In fact, it was rather soothing as it lapped at his skin. The tub was almost too small for him, however, his knees peeking out of the water from having to fold his long legs.

It was cramped but not completely uncomfortable. He sunk in a little further, letting out a pleased sigh.

This was definitely better than the lake, that was for sure.

Before he could relax fully, he caught sight of something on the side table next to him. He turned his head and instantly regretted it.

It was a makeup mirror you had brought, and it was angled in a way he could stare directly at his own reflection.

It made him flinch.

He didn’t look away, however, gritting his teeth against the image of himself he had loathed from the moment he transformed. But not only was he faced with his monstrous visage once more, he could now see the blood and dirt caked onto his skin, exposing him for what he truly was.

Something that was meant to kill.

He fought the urge to shatter the glass, not wanting to destroy something that belonged to you, instead leaning over and turning it away.

As he laid back in the water and began scrubbing the grime from his body with the rag you had provided for him, a barrage of thoughts overtook his tired mind, all of them relating to you.

He couldn’t bear to look at himself, yet you rarely took your eyes off of him.

He was disgusted by his own existence and the form he was forced to live in, yet you treated him like he was normal. Like he was a person.

He quickly finished bathing, the water starting to cool, but he was in no rush to leave, allowing himself this moment of peace and to think.

He rested his clawed hand against his chest and could still feel where your small palm had been placed there, could still feel the way your flesh gave under his tight hold when had embraced you. The warmth that radiated from your very being.

His hand lowered mindlessly as he lingered on the image of you stripping bare to him on that boat, offering him your impish little smirk and batted lashes over twinkling eyes.

It lowered further as he thought of your lips, wondered how they’d feel against his skin—how soft they would be.

He hissed as his hand gently wrapped around the base of his cock, almost shocked to feel it was already achingly hard.

Leon couldn’t remember the last time he had touched himself like this.

In the beginning, he worried he would hurt himself, what with the small daggers that were his new fingers. Eventually, he dared to wander—carefully, of course—and soon it was one of the few things human left of him, to have this libido to relieve. But as the years passed and his body changed, he hardly had the urge.

And now here he was, fisting his cock at the thought of you.

He held back a groan as he slid his thumb across his slit, imagining it was your tongue instead.

He could picture your pretty eyes looking up at him as you took him into your mouth, how you’d tease him with kitten licks and the gentle scrape of your teeth until he was begging you for more, how you’d pull away just to level him with that mischievous smirk you wore so well before you’d cave and take him to the hilt.

Leon gasped as he picked up the speed of his pumping fist, lifting his hips above the cooled water, trying to avoid sloshing it onto the floor with the motion.

He then thought of your cunt, how sweet it would taste as he laved it with his tongue—mused about what precious little sounds he could pull from those plush, kissable lips of yours. He could almost feel how your fingers would card through his hair, yank it to get him closer to where you wanted him; how he’d tease you the way you did him before finally conceding, your desperation for him almost more delicious than the very essence of you that he fed upon.

He grit his teeth as he neared the edge, fighting to hold back.

Too soon. It was too soon.

He paused his movements, taking in a slow deep breath to calm his rapidly beating heart, letting the wave of pleasure that nearly crested over him fade to a lapping tide.

His mind slipped back into his fantasy, then, needing to finish what he started before he was driven mad with desire.

He imagined you underneath him now, bodies flush together, the head of his cock sliding against you—not a taunt but a preparation for what was to come.

He wondered how tight you’d be as he pushed inside, how warm and wet and inviting, squeezing his hand as he emulated the scene from his head.

How well would you take him?

Although much of his body had changed over the years—grown—what sat beneath his belt had not. This was not a concern for him, however, having been well-endowed even for a human man of his former stature. In fact, he almost seemed more… proportionate… now.

Would he be too much?

Or would you plead for him to go harder and faster? Deeper?

Leon couldn’t stop the near growl that escaped him as he imagined the way you’d cry out into the crook of his neck, his name like a breathless prayer against his skin. He could feel you wrap your legs around him, scraping your nails across his spine hard enough to draw blood.

He was on the precipice once more, but this time he didn’t hold back.

He thought of you looking into his eyes as you came undone beneath him, wide and full of unshed tears, overwhelmed by the euphoria coursing through you. His body shuttered at the idea of your walls tightening impossibly around him, pulsing and wet.

He managed to bite back the whine that clawed up his throat as his cock twitched, his seed spurting across his chest and stomach.

He collapsed back into the tub, his mind so gloriously blank and full of fuzzy warmth as he caught his breath.

And then the realization hit him.

He had just masturbated. To you. While you were just on the other side of the wall, without even a door to fully separate the room.

He was flooded with remorse, then, wondering if he had managed to keep quiet enough so that you wouldn’t hear or suspect his reckless sin against you.

He stilled, listening intently to any sounds in the house, his inhuman ears able to pick out the overlapping breaths of you and Wolfie over the whistling wind outside, right there in the dining room.

He swallowed the lump of shame that formed in his throat and roughly wiped the spend from his flesh, the harsh scrape of coarse fabric a small punishment for his transgression.

As he dried himself and changed into sleepwear, he wondered how disgusted you’d be with him if you knew just what he was thinking.

Surely, you’d never look at him the same.

He wanted to blame his exhaustion from a sleepless night, but he knew deep down this was bound to happen eventually. Your very existence was a temptation to him, after all.

He took a steadying breath before he finally turned the corner to face you, pleasantly surprised and more than a little relieved that you were fast asleep, curled up on his couch with a blanket draped across your legs.

He smiled softly as he approached you, all worry forgotten as a swell of affection replaced it.

You looked so sweet laying there, head resting upon the pillow you must have brought from upstairs and your pressed hands, your breaths puffing out a strand of hair hanging over your mouth. Leon quietly chuckled as he tucked it behind your ear and pulled the blanket up and around your shoulders to keep you warm before standing upright once more.

He knew as he gazed upon you that regardless of whether you returned his feelings or not, his own might never leave him. He would have to make his peace with that.

He sighed, closing his eyes tightly before opening them once more, deciding that was a problem for later.

He then sat beside Wolfie, checking on him briefly before laying down right there on the floor, exhaustion overtaking any real need for comfort. Not like he hadn’t done it the first night of your arrival, anyway.

As he drifted into a deep slumber…

He couldn’t help but dream of you.

+++

The night had been a long one.

You had sat in the emergency room of the vet clinic with Wolfie for hours, watching as they tried to keep him alive.

You would never get the image of his terrified eyes out of your head, looking to you for help or for comfort as people he didn’t know surrounded him while he couldn’t even move.

You didn’t let your tears escape until they told you he was stable, locking yourself in their bathroom across the hall and sobbing into your hands, the events of the night finally catching up to you.

He would live.

You weren’t sure you could forgive yourself if he didn’t. You wondered if Leon would have.

Oh, Leon, you thought worriedly, I hope you’re okay.

You wished you could get ahold of him somehow to let him know Wolfie was alive, aware of the fact that even if he owned a cell phone, the village had no service anyway. You were half tempted to drive out to see him and tell him the news, but you didn’t want to leave Wolfie alone for that long.

You then recalled the bear and Leon’s promise to kill it, hoping desperately it didn’t hurt him. You didn’t know what you’d do if you drove back just to find him bleeding out in the mud like he had found Wolfie, the thought piercing your heart like a bullet.

To calm yourself, you replayed the day in your head, focusing only on all the good parts.

You thought of how he opened up to you at his friends’ graves, how he held your hand as you sat in the dirt together.

You thought of how he slipped his palms across your waist on the boat, how he spoke so lowly in your ear, how your faces got so close in the water.

You thought of how he stroked your hair while you sat by the fireplace, the affection so freely given it was as if he couldn’t stop himself from touching you.

You thought about how concerned he was for you when you returned to the house after finding Wolfie, how he was upset you had gotten hurt and lost in the woods and blamed himself.

And then you thought of what he said before you left for town:

“I might lose Wolfie, but I can’t lose you too.”

Those words were looping in your brain over and over.

You knew he was just concerned with your safety, that he’d probably feel guilty if something happened to you while you were trying to save his dog, but the way he said it… The way he looked at you…

“I can’t lose you.”

It was like he meant it.

Despite your anxiety, you managed to nap a bit on the bench outside of the observation room, asking the veterinarian to wake you when Wolfie came to.

In the morning, while he was still out cold, you took a brief stroll outside of the clinic, making your way into the neighboring pet shop to bide the time.

As you passed the shelves of toys and supplies, your eyes caught on a large blue collar, realizing that it was about Wolfie’s size. You held it aloft as you considered buying it, thinking it was almost silly to put a collar on a half-feral dog.

But then you thought of the other outsiders that might appear in the village every so often. You worried they might dog-nap Wolfie for his friendliness or kill him for his intimidating appearance, deciding it may be worth the purchase, just in case.

Besides, Leon seemed drawn to the color blue, if the majority of his shirts and his preference regarding the castle’s art was anything to go by. It was oddly endearing imagining the scorpion man and his wolf-dog matching in such a way.

After buying it and getting an engraved name tag, you returned to the clinic, petting Wolfie and offering him soft words of encouragement as the vet gave him some much-needed shots.

The rain finally subsided as you made your way back to the village, your nerves still alight despite Wolfie’s improved condition.

When you finally pulled up to the dirt road near the lodge, you were overjoyed to see Leon appear beside the car.

Your heart was in your throat, however, when got a good look at him, his face and still-shirtless torso covered in dirt and so much blood.

You couldn’t stop the instinctual need to touch him, reaching out and placing your hand against his stained chest. “Are you okay?”

He gently laid his clawed fingers across your knuckles, pressing your palm into his skin, as if your very being was a solace to him. “I’m fine. It isn’t mine.”

Your relief at that was palpable, beyond overjoyed that he was perfectly safe. Though, the blood had to come from somewhere, and it wasn’t all Wolfie’s. “You found the bear, I take it?”

Leon’s eyes seemed to darken, but he nodded, replying, “It won’t bother us anymore.”

The answer was jarringly cryptic, and Leon seemed more upset to admit he killed the bear than you would have thought, considering how eager he was to do it before you left.

You shook away your thoughts as he asked you questions, the conversation turning to Wolfie’s health.

You then recalled your purchase at the pet store, pulling it out of your bag and waving it in front of Leon. “Picked this up before I took him from the clinic. Hope he’ll wear it.”

You stood from the car, ready to get back to the house and take a nice, long nap, when Leon wrapped his arms around you, to your utter shock.

He held you close to him, the strength of it enough to feel your bodies meld together, but not enough to hurt you.

It took you a moment to register it all, short-circuiting at the feeling of him against you, but you eventually hugged him in return, shivering as he tucked his face into the crook of your neck and let his breath fan across your skin.

“Thank you. For everything.” His voice was tight in his throat and it made your heart ache to hear it.

It was the least you could do, a part of you deep down blaming yourself for what happened to Wolfie, because you had kept Leon out longer than he wanted. What if Wolfie had only been in the woods waiting for the two of you to come back? Maybe if you had agreed to return to the house before the storm hit, none of this would have happened to begin with.

Instead of saying that, you only replied, “I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”

It was still the truth, as you would do anything to protect this half-man and his dog—willing to suffer more than just a nasty cut and a sleepless night if it meant they were safe.

Leon pulled away, to your despair, and grabbed Wolfie, the three of you heading back to the house.

As you set up Wolfie near the fireplace, you couldn’t help but notice the way Leon wouldn’t take his eyes off the sleeping dog, and although you understood it, he needed to wash the blood and grime from his body and get some much-needed rest.

If your night had been rough, you couldn’t imagine what his had been like.

He argued against you making him up a hot bath, but you wouldn’t hear it, telling him your decision was final.

“You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?” he said in faux annoyance.

You replied, smiling, “Oh, I know, but it’s what you like about me.”

“Not the only thing.” The words and the way he said them made a tingle run up your spine, but you were quick to shoo him off, taking a deep breath as you went about your task of filling the tub.

You changed quickly into your pajamas before sending Leon to his bath, flopping onto the couch with a quiet groan after fetching your pillow and a blanket from upstairs.

You thought that maybe you could sleep forever as you shifted, getting comfortable on the old piece of furniture. You wanted to wait for Leon, though, staring up at the ceiling in quiet cogitation.

Despite your fear that you were the reason Wolfie was out in the storm in the first place, you couldn’t understate your role in saving his life. Had you not been there, Leon wouldn’t have been able to do anything, and you could sense the distress that caused him at the realization.

You worried deeply about what might happen after you leave.

A stray tear escaped your eye and you battled the awful thought of one or both of them dying out here in this village, all alone, with no one to call for.

Wolfie was old and this place was dangerous. And even if Leon ended up being fine physically, you knew his loneliness would eat him alive, especially with the inevitable loss of his dog an ever-looming threat.

You squeezed your eyes shut, wiping them to stop you from crying.

You thought about Leon’s smile instead. Thought of his voice and his laugh and the way he looked at you. Like you were normal. Like you were important.

You could still feel the way his arms wrapped around you, how safe you felt. How cherished.

You sighed deeply, turning over to stare at Wolfie, watching the slow rise and fall of his side as he breathed. You reached out your hand to him, gently stroking his head, his fur soft and warm.

You wondered as your eyes drooped shut and your mind began to fade to unconsciousness, your fingers slowly falling away from Wolfie’s form:

How could you leave them now?

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

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 2 years ago

Text

All Clones Go To Heaven

Crosshair & Mayday

Summary: The aftermath of the avalanche on Barton IV from Mayday’s perspective. (written in third person limited)

Pairings: None

Characters: Crosshair, Mayday, Mayday's Squad

Tags & Warnings: angst, hurt, comfort, death, afterlife, may also cause uncontrollable crying, apologies in advance

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Notes: A companion piece to this post. I don’t know anything about the lore behind the Star Wars afterlife, so if you do, please no hate! It’s just fanfiction. As always, please enjoy 💚

It’s cold. It’s dark. It’s heavy. These and numerous other thoughts floated around Mayday’s mind as he laid motionless under the frigid snow. The pressure and weight of the icy precipitation crushed his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He was fully engulfed in a tundra prison.

He inhaled and exhaled slowly, just as he was taught in training as a cadet. Never panicking for even a moment. He flexed his muscles to move his arms and legs in an attempt to escape, but they wouldn’t budge. The weight and angles of the pressurized snow were too great to overcome.

This is it. He resigned. I’m finally going to die here on this mountain, just like my squad. Can’t say I didn’t see it coming. He wrestled with his mind, trying to not think about death by suffocation, until his thoughts finally landed somewhere else. I hope that clone got out. I can’t have another one die on me.

It didn’t take much longer for his senses to begin fading away. The asphyxiation was taking its toll on him. He lingered in and out of consciousness, hoping at any moment that death would stop toying with him and just take him. Death was such a tease, and not the kind he liked. Much unlike his former men, who were chronic pranksters.

However, as he lay there, nearing death’s edge and reminiscing the days when his squad was together, he heard a muffled sound coming from above. One by one, small fragments of light pierced through his snowy covering. Just as hope of a rescue brimmed from the surface, he passed out.

Mayday started to crawl back into consciousness as he felt hands lifting his torso. He grunted as his lungs began to fill with oxygen once again. He felt a hard object behind his back and could hear someone speaking, but couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. His brain was still scrambled from lack of oxygen and the pain around his torso slowly increased.

“Come on,” Crosshair prompted as he attempted to lift the commander out of the snow. “We have to move.”

Mayday grunted again, this time from the pain of his crushed chest. Each breath was an excruciating endeavor as his lungs attempted to expand inside his broken ribcage. He knew he had no chance of surviving in his condition and all the pulling was not helping.

Through forced breaths, he spoke to the young clone. “Go, I won’t make it.”

Not missing a beat, Crosshair put the Commander’s helmet on his head and shivered out a soft. “We don’t leave our own behind.”

The old and worn helmet wasn’t much protection from the elements, but it was better than nothing. At the minimum, it kept the howling wind out of his ears and made his already labored breathing a bit easier. Nonetheless, the journey back to the outpost would be a perilous one and neither clone was promised survival.

Still moving in and out of consciousness, Mayday could feel his body being pulled out of the snow. The blunt movements were painful, but he didn’t have enough energy to fight the young clone’s efforts. He felt his left arm wrap around Crosshair’s shoulder as he was lifted to his feet.

They moved along the mountainside slowly. The air was gusting and frigid, but his chest burned like fire. He knew he was critically injured, and most likely bleeding internally, but that didn’t stop the young clone from dragging him along through the deep snow.

They stopped every so often to catch their breaths and reposition themselves, even though no position was comfortable. As they trudged along through the night, the wind began to howl and the snow stung like daggers against their prone bodies. A blizzard was coming and they needed to find shelter quickly.

Crosshair led the limping pair to a small outcropping on the side of the mountain, with barely any protection from the storm. Mayday could feel the young clone’s body pressed tightly up against his, huddling them together as best he could while they waited it out. He could barely open his eyes, but he would never forget the fear on Crosshair’s face.

Come morning light, the duo started again towards the outpost. This time Crosshair gave Mayday his sniper rifle as a walking stick. The make-shift crutch did help a little, but Mayday knew it wasn’t going to be enough. He wasn’t making it out of this situation alive, even if they did make it back to the outpost.

They marched forward, both clones breathing ragged, half frost-bitten, and on the verge of death. As they crested the last hill, Mayday, through glazed vision, could see the outposts' platform. Maybe they were going to make it. Maybe they would survive this. Maybe they live to fight another day.

“About time you two returned,” the Lieutenant sneered as the two ragged clones staggered forward and fell to the ground.

“He needs a medic,” Crosshair exasperated as he removed Mayday’s helmet.

Mayday coughed as the blood pooling in his chest crushed his lungs. It’s alright, son. He wanted to say to reassure the young clone.

“I see you didn’t retrieve the crates,” the lieutenant huffed in disappointment. “Which means you failed your mission.”

You mean we failed our suicide mission. Mayday jested to himself.

“Did you hear what I said?” Crosshair pleaded. “Help him!”

Once again, wishing to convey his thoughts to the young clone, but unable to, he let the words loose in his mind. It’s going to be okay, kid. Clones die all the time. I’ll be fine.

“Certainly not,” the lieutenant sneered. “That would be a waste of the Empire’s resources.”

A resource. That’s all we are to them. Things. He wished he could muster the strength to convey his thoughts out loud, but his breath was gone. I hope you remember this, Crosshair. Don’t become a tool of the Empire like me. You’re worth more than that.

“You...,” Crosshair breathed out in desperation, “he’ll die.”

Mayday coughed again, more forceful than before. He could feel his life slipping away second by second. This was it. His breath was leaving his body one last time. Goodbye, kid. He thought one last time before drifting into death’s arms.

It was dark once more, but this time, it wasn't cold. No, this time was different. Mayday found himself standing alone in pitch black. He swiveled his head but couldn’t see anything. It was an endless void as he turned around in circles, trying to gather intel on his new surroundings.

However, like any good soldier, he started marching forward. To where, he did not know. To find what, he was uncertain. But he knew he had to start moving. There was an internal compass somewhere deep inside his soul that guided his footsteps along an invisible pathway.

As he continued his journey through the darkness, he began to feel warm. It was an odd feeling and contrasted what he had known for the past year on Barton IV. Nevertheless, it was inviting, calming, and effortless. His body felt lighter and his skin began to tingle. He was being lulled.

Without warning, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he sensed a presence ahead of him. His first instinct was to grab at his weapon, but there was nothing there. The shocking realization that he had nothing and was nothing set in. All his gear was gone and he was vulnerable.

He took a deep breath and stepped closer to the presence. He couldn’t make out what it was, but it was definitely other-worldly and not something he had run into before. He cocked his head to the side and squinted at a tall figure outlined in a dull silvery light. He stepped closer to investigate.

“Welcome, Mayday,” the looming figure spoke with a booming voice.

The clone commander was taken aback as his hands started to tremble in front of the presence. “Who are you?” he asked.

“I am the Maker,” the tall figure answered as it bowed its head low to meet Mayday’s gaze.

“Is… Is this death?” Mayday asked with hesitation. He didn’t know how he knew to ask, but something inside him prompted it.

“Yes, it is,” the Maker answered.

“I see,” Mayday said as he brought a hand up to pull at his beard in thought. “Are… Are my men here?”

“Yes, they are,” the Maker answered again.

“Sir, can I see them?” Mayday asked with excitement and expectation in his voice.

“Perhaps,” the Maker answered. “It depends.”

“Depends on what, sir?” Mayday asked.

“On your judgment,” the Maker answered deeply.

“Judgment?” Mayday rhetorized in confusion.

“Yes,” the Maker continued. “All who pass through my domain must be judged. So tell me, Mayday, why should I let you pass on?”

The clone commander thought about what to say. It was a tough question and not one that any clone ever thought about in their lifetime. Clones were lab creations, made to be disposable. Did they deserve to live a happy afterlife as much as any other lifeform?

“I didn’t do much to deserve much, sir,” Mayday began. He shook his head and sighed. “I was bred to kill and created to die. And I… I lost my entire squad. My brothers followed every order I gave them and died. Their deaths are on my shoulders. So, perhaps, I don’t deserve anything.”

The Maker shifted its fluid form into a pondering posture as it looked into the depths of the clone commander’s soul. “But were you a good soldier?” the Maker asked.

“I’d like to think so, sir,” Mayday answered semi-confidently.

The Maker straightened its posture and once again loomed its large silvery figure over Mayday’s tiny frame. Mayday took a few steps back, in awe of the enormity of the Maker’s presence.

“Commander Mayday,” the Maker’s voice boomed as the clone flinched. “A clone you were created, a life-form you are no less. You followed your orders and served your men well. They gladly laid down their lives under your command as each one spoke highly of your leadership.”

Mayday cracked a small sad smile. “They did?”

“Yes,” the Maker answered softly.

Mayday let out an anguished sigh. “They were good men. Some of the best.”

“As are you,” the Maker pointed out. The Maker paused and let silence fill the room as it peered further into the soul of the clone standing before it. “I will now pass my judgment upon you.”

Mayday straightened up at attention, ready and willing to accept whatever judgment the Maker had for him. All he hoped for was to be reunited with his men, wherever they were. Or if not, then at least be at peace knowing they were safe from any further harm.

“Mayday,” the Maker boomed. “I judge you as a good soldier. Loyal, brave, strong, and true. You did well in your short life and you earned the love and respect of many around you. I now grant you access to Paradise. Enter and join your brothers in peace.”

Mayday smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. He was going to see his men again. Before his thoughts could trail off any farther, a vertical light in the middle of the dark void showed forth. He put his hands up to shield his eyes at the brightness, as the light grew wide, like doors swinging open.

He slowly put his hands down and looked into the bright light. He hesitated for a moment, but the Maker prodded the clone to move forward. As Mayday came closer to the light, he could see a group of figures standing together, bathed in the golden light from where they stood. It was his squad.

Mayday ran forward, eager to greet his men that he missed so much. Tears brimming in his eyes. It really was the most glorious sight and all he could have ever asked for. It was them. All of them. They were there waiting for him, their leader.

“Commander!” one of the clones yelled in excitement as they waved their hand in the air. “What took you so long?” The clone beamed with joy.

“You’re late!” another clone yelled. “Uh, I mean, you’re late sir!” The squad laughed.

“Thank goodness,” one of his men breathed out in a sigh of relief. “We were getting bored without you and these four idiots have been such a handful.”

“Come on in and join us!” another one of his men shouted in excitement. “Hexx and Veetch are already here and getting way too comfortable.”

“Aw, yes!” the last of his men cheered. “The squad is finally back together again!”

Mayday chuckled and without even trying to keep his composure, cried. His squad, his brothers, his family, were back together again. Finally, they were home. Mayday lunged forward and brought his entire squad into a big group hug, toppling them over like bowling pins.

“Hey boys,” Mayday smiled and leaned into the embrace. Desperately clinging to each one as tight as he could. “Glad I could make it.”

As the group got up and walked back into the bright light of Paradise, each crying, laughing, and falling over the other, Mayday took one last look into the void and remembered a certain clone. I hope you find your squad too, Crosshair. Then, turning with a big smile, he followed his brothers into bliss.

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