#re: eat the [x]

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

You belong to me

Summary: reader is a female police officer that began to have a friendship with someone who got sent to help with a case. But things took a dark turn…

Warning: Manipulation. Kidnapping. Stalking. Gaslighting. Stockholm syndrome. Power dynamic. Power abuse. Emotional abuse and distress. Guilt-tripping. Isolation. Emotional blackmail. SMUT. Creampie. Handjob. Blowjob. Oral (m receiving). Reader is toxic. Leon is a victim. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

Word Count: 4,193

A/N: since it’s October, I wanted to try something different. We’ve all seen the fics where Leon is the toxic one but what about the reader? This is my attempt at toxic reader.

“My honey I know, with the dawn that you will be gone. But tonight, you belong to me,” - Tonight You Belong To Me, Patience and Prudence

When you were young, you looked up to the heroes of the world. The police, the firefighters, etc. It all fascinated you and you found it in yourself to want to help others as well. It was all an innocent dream that started when you were just a little girl and now here you are, working as a police officer in the city’s infamous police department.

People come and go, new faces everyday. It’s filling out paperwork and writing reports about incidents you’ve been called to. Sure, you’ve had your share of the donut and early coffee rounds, but nothing beats cruising in the patrol car.

You’ve never been an obsessed type of person, you just took a really good liking to things. Video games, music, books–they were all just common interests. But something about your job was so exciting. It wasn’t just helping people, it was the necessity to feel the rush flow through your blood through car chases or when you venture into a building with your flashlight out searching for criminals. At the end of the day, it felt amazing capturing the bad guys and throwing them in a cell.

It was a normal day, nothing too out of the ordinary. You were called to a crime scene in a neighborhood in the middle of your night shift. You were the first of your squad to arrive and there you saw an unfamiliar man. He wasn’t a police officer but he seemed like the real deal.

“Ah, Officer L/N,” said the police commander as he motioned for you to come forward, “Let me introduce you to this guy. He’s done nothing but save the country countless times. Meet Agent Kennedy, he will be assisting us tonight.” Agent Kennedy was tall with blonde hair and blue eyes. Skin pale with a few freckles adorning his face.

Agent Kennedy nods and extends his hand to you for a handshake, “Nice to meet you, I hope we can work with no issues.” You nodded and took his hand in return for a firm handshake before letting go, “Pleasure to meet you as well.”

“So,” Agent Kennedy said as he looked over at your boss, “What’s the situation here?” The police commander then began to walk inside towards the house you had parked on the side to, “There’s been a suspicious call to the precinct,” he said as you and Agent Kennedy followed him inside, with Agent Kennedy letting you enter first.

“Lady down the street said that there was yelling and she called to make a noise complaint but then she said it all got quiet so she decided to check on the people who lived here,” he said as he walked the two of you to the living room. Upon reaching the living room, the floor’s carpet was drenched in blood and the walls had blood spatters around them. You grimaced at the sight but Agent Kennedy simply narrowed his eyes, his blue eyes jumping from blood spatter to blood spatter around the room, “Any clue about the victim?” Kennedy asked.

“Female. Early thirsties,” the police commander began to describe, “5 foot 5–the other neighbors said that she was a sweet lady but that her boyfriend wasn’t much of a gentleman. When we first came to check, the body was missing and there was no weapon on sight. It was as if someone had murdered her and took her body with them. We tried contacting the boyfriend but he’s been MIA for a while now.”

Your eyes wandered around the room, how could anyone do this? Sure, there is no certain proof that the woman’s boyfriend could’ve done it but it was a lead right?

“What about the boyfriend’s records?” You asked, “If his record states suspicious activity or other charges, then we’d know by then, right?”

“No,” Agent Kennedy replied right before your boss could, “This doesn’t seem like something a felon would do. Usually felons who are trying to save face try to avoid getting in trouble with the law. This is something completely unrelated to the victim’s relationship.”

“Then what could’ve caused this?” the police commander asked. Kennedy kneeled on the ground, his eyes inspecting the bloody carpet, “An amateur. This is probably just the work of someone trying to prove that they can kill.” Kennedy stood back up again and looked at your boss, “I’ll have a few of my men search the house, there’s been other cases like this that we have previously looked at and I think this is just another one of those.”

You furrowed your brows, “So you’ve dealt with this killer before?” you asked, to which he nodded, “Yes. But I can’t say anything. It’s a government case.”

It was a long night but thanks to Agent Kennedy, he made it run smoother than you had anticipated.

Agent Kennedy…

What a guy.

-

For the days that followed through, balancing minor incidents and the big case on your plate, you’ve met with Kennedy more than a few times. It was as if it was a coincidence. You saw him at a bar, in the police station, in the store–quite the few times. But you were polite in each encounter. You smiled, you waved, you even initiated conversations with him. And he was kind to you in return.

You were happy, life was great.

You’ve even stopped him several times when you saw him on the road.

“Hey, just a reminder to turn on your lights,” you’d say as you’d lean against his car door.

“Make sure your license plate gets renewed, you’re lucky I’m a nice officer,” you’d say with a friendly smile.

Or sometimes you would meet in your office for the case and talk.

“You know, you’re lucky I’ve been just giving you warnings on the road,” you said as you sat on your desk with him sitting across from you. He smirks and shakes his head, “It’s like you’re always there. Are you secretly following me?”

You laughed and it was your turn to shake your head in denial, “I’m too busy to follow you around. Plus, what’s the harm if I did? I’ve been helping you avoid a ticket, haven’t I?”

He nods and laughs, “Yeah, I guess you’ve kind of been like a friendly officer.”

“I’m for the people,” you said as you laughed with him, “I try to help as much as I can. I’m not a saint, but people can do good, right?”

“Yeah… they can,” he muttered and leaned back against the chair he was sitting in, “No but seriously, I’ve been seeing you around more often than lately. I’m not saying it’s weird, I appreciate you giving me tips and warnings but–I mean, is it even allowed?”

You laughed again, “It’s a small town, Leon,” you said, “I’m busy everywhere and plus, no one has to know. There are millions of things happening at once in this place. Me not giving you a speeding ticket is nothing worth mentioning.”

Everything seemed to be going well for you. You’ve grown closer to Leon ever since you started that case. Sure, you’ve seen him more frequently but it was pure coincidence, right?

-

Leon was sure something was going on. He’s been seeing you more frequently and you stopped him at random times. He’s grateful you haven’t given him a ticket but he can’t help the growing suspicion that you’ve done this so frequently. His worries only grew after that day in your office.

He was never a man to take things lightly. He’s always thought things through and was a smart and confident man. At some point he began to feel guilty because he could see just how hard you work around the station. You’ve taken shifts but you always kept a smile on your face, it made him feel shitty for thinking so poorly of you.

You were sweet and kind, always wanting to help people just like him.

But there was just something in his gut telling him to watch out.

“Y/n,” he said in surprise when he found you next to his car. You turned and smiled at him, “Hey, Leon. Haven’t seen you in a while, just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He forced a smile and nodded, “Yeah, I-uh-I’m fine. Just been busy with the case. Jane Doe, you know?”

“Jane Doe,” you repeated quietly. There was a silence between you two, one that he didn’t know if it was suffocating or intimate. He’s never been good with the ladies after all.

“You know,” you said softly, “I’m here if you ever need to talk. I’m the only one who can really understand you. I’ve seen things no one should see. I’ve been through hell and back before and I know how it feels like to be stuck in this dark place,” you said as you pointed to your head.

His face fell and he stared at you in silence.

“Therapy doesn’t work. I know everyone says that but when has therapy ever worked for you? You have this distant gaze, Leon,” you whispered as you took steps forward towards him, “I’m the only one that can see the pain you feel everyday.”

He furrowed his brow, “Why are you saying this?” he whispered. You smiled, “Because I want to help. I’m your friend.”

-

The words were glued to his mind and now he felt more uneasy but something in your words spoke out to him. He’s never really had the chance to heal, not after Raccoon City. But he’d never say that your words were doing things to his mind. You showed kindness no one ever has, you spoke to him in a caring voice, and you were never his enemy.

He’s never seen someone so… friendly. At some point he found you too friendly but then he’d feel guilty for thinking that stuff about you.

He shouldn’t have been paranoid of you, your eyes and your smile were ones of an angel.

Leon doesn’t have a family and he’s never had a real friend before. Something in him felt warm and odd.

“I’m your only friend here, Leon,” you said as the two of you sat on a bench just right outside the front of the police station, “No one ever listens and if they do, they’re lying. When someone says they care, they don’t. They have to show you that they care like I have. I care about you, I really do. You don’t need those fake friends, you’ll be okay with me. Small circle beats a bigger

circle in terms of a social life, right?”

He nodded, taking your words into consideration, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Lots of people lie nowadays. Can’t ever tell who’s going to stab me in the back.”

“Exactly,” you continued, “Why stress about someone’s loyalty when you have someone that already has proved it. Remember that time I didn’t give you a ticket for speeding or having alcohol in your vehicle? I’m a real friend, Leon. There’s no one else that understands you like I do.”

“Well, I do have some other friends,” he muttered, “they’ve been through the same things I’ve been.”

You scoffed and shook your head, “You’re going to listen to your friends who barely care, over me? I’m the one who has your best interests in mind, Leon.”

“I’m not saying that to make you any less of a friend but you’ve got to admit that you stop me too many times on the road,” he said. You rolled your eyes and looked at him, “You know you’re being paranoid, right? I’ve done nothing but help you, and you’re trying to say I’m some kind of creep. I’m the only one who’s been there for you. You should trust me more than anyone else. Nobody else cares as much as I do.”

He felt bad and guilty for making you think he thought you were a creep. He frowned and looked at you, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you look like a weirdo, I’m just… I haven’t had a real friend in a long time. Probably since high school and that was years ago.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” you sighed softly, your expression turning soft and caring with a small smile tugging your lips, “I understand you were just being cautious and I can’t blame you for that. But don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I care about you and I want to help.”

-

Leon suddenly found himself in a dark room. He blinked his eyes open and saw that he was in a dimly lit room. He tried to move but his hands were tied. Leon was tied down to a chair, his hands behind the back of the chair tied together with rope, as well as his legs tied down on the legs of the chair. Panic surged through him. The room was cold and silent, eerily silent. The only thing he could hear was the sound of his breathing.

He tried to shift around but then his eyes landed on the walls of the room. He furrowed his brow, what the hell was going on? “What the..” he muttered under his breath and then he turned his attention towards the sounds of footsteps descending a pair of stairs. Now he understood he was in a basement.

“Hello,” calmly rang the voice of a woman. Chills ran down Leon’s spine as you stepped closer, making your figure known to him. Why were you here?

“Y/n, you’ve got to help me,” Leon as he tugged at his tied wrists, “I don’t know how I ended up here. Come on, help me–” he grunted as he struggled. But you remained stilled in front of him. Your eyes watching as your calm demeanor took over.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” you said casually. He looked up at him, confusion written on his face, “Can’t help me?” he repeated in disbelief, “Why not?”

“Because I’m the one who did this to you,” you replied. There was no remorse in your tone. YOu were casual and cool, something that made Leon’s skin crawl with goosebumps. He’d never have guessed that you would be the one to ever put him in this situation.

“You see, Leon,” you began as you walked around him, circling him around, “I’m the only you can rely on. You don’t need those other people. They don’t know you like I do. I was only trying to help.”

“Help?” He repeated incredulously, “You tied me to a chair! How is that helping?!”

“Don’t be like that,” you said as you walked back to stand in front of him, leaning down to his face, “You should be grateful, after everything I’ve done for you, shouldn’t you be thanking me? You’re making me feel bad Leon.”

He frowned, his heart aching at your words, “I am grateful for your friendship but I just–”

“Just what, Leon?” you interjected, “Come on, now, don’t be like that,” you continued as you brought a hand to his cheek, gently caressing his face, “You know I’m the only one who’s ever listened to you. I know how damaged you are and I’m the only one who’s accepted you as you are. Look at your so-called friends, they haven’t talked to you. They’re not like me, they don’t care about you like I do.”

He looked up at you with those saddened blue eyes, his head subconsciously leaning into your hand, “But you said you wouldn’t hurt me,” he whispered.

Your thumb swiped along his cheek in a soft caress, “I haven’t, have I?” you whispered back, “I would never hurt you, you know that. It hurts me that you’re doubting me.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered back immediately, “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, I'm just… confused.”

“It’s okay to be confused but you have to trust me. I’ll never hurt you,” you leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, your lips feeling soft on his skin like a soothing balm. But this only made him more confused. He should be angry and attempting to escape but he couldn’t, he didn’t want to betray you like that after all you’ve done for him. He shouldn’t, right?

He closed his eyes and sighed, leaning into your hand as if he was seeking your comfort. You smiled at his behavior, “Look at you,” you murmured, “You’re so deprived of love, aren’t you?” you asked mockingly, to which he nodded. He opened his eyes and looked up at you, “I am…” he whispered, “No one’s treated me as kindly as you have. I… I don’t have anyone besides you.”

“You don’t have to, I’m the only one you need, Leon,” you whispered as you leaned your lips down his face, just right above his lips, “I promise I won’t leave you if you won’t leave me.”

“I promise,” he replied almost instantly, “I won’t leave you. Please…” he begged, craning his head up as if trying to meet your lips. He was desperate for a touch of affection and you were willing to give him that, he wasn’t about to let go of you in the end.

“Please what?” you whispered.

“Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t.”

“Can you kiss me?”

“I can.”

You pressed your lips against his in a short kiss, causing him to whine and lean forward to keep kissing you, “Y/n, please,” he begged again. You smirked and leaned down to kiss him again, this time longer and more passionate. He closed his eyes and sighed into the kiss as your hands raked around his hair, tugging at his blonde strands. Your tongue grazed his bottom lip, to which he let you explore his mouth with.

He was so easy, all he needed was a little bit of love and he was down at your knees for you.

Your hand moved down his chest to his pants. Your palm ghosting over his crotch, you pressed your hand over it. He hissed and moaned, his body going tense before you began to rub him through the fabric of his jeans, “Y/n,” he whined again.

“You want me to touch your dick? Make you cum?” you murmured mockingly, he nodded his head and jerked his hips up into your hand, “Please,” he whispered.

You stood by his side, hand going inside his pants until you felt his boxers. He felt hard and long, almost making you wet. Your hand didn’t stop rubbing him through his boxers, his needy whines and moans echoing through the basement. Then, he attached his lips to your boob over your shirt, his teeth nibbling around the fabric of your shirt.

“Want to suck my tit like a baby?” you mused, he nodded and looked up at you through his lashes, “Yes,” he whispered. And how could you deny him anything when he’s been nothing but a good and obedient boy?

With your free hand, you lifted your shirt and took off your bra, watching as his pupils dilated and immediately latched his lips on your breast. His teeth pulled at your nipple before his tongue flatly dragged over your stiff peak. Your hand on his boxers moved over inside, feeling the skin of his dick on your hands. You pulled it out of his pants and circled your hand around his cock, rubbing up and down from the tip to the base. He moaned against your breasts, the vibrations sending a wave of arousal through you.

He kissed and licked all he could, his lips becoming swollen and your boob glistening with his saliva. God, he could suck your tit all day if you asked him. His moans became short and breathy the more you stroked him, his cock spasmed and twitched as he felt himself near his orgasm and without further notice, you suddenly dropped down to your knees and put his cock in your mouth. He gasped and threw his head back, his lips parting as he moaned every time you bobbed down on his dick. He bucked his hips further into your mouth while your hands massaged his balls, drawing an embarrassing moan from his throat.

Soon enough he came into your mouth, his sweet cum shooting ropes. But you didn’t swallow. Instead, you stood up, hands going to his jaw as you forced his mouth to open. You spat his cum into his mouth and forced him to close his lips.

“Swallow,” you commanded him. He nodded and swallowed the cum you gave him, he was left panting as he looked up at you.

“Good boy,” you purred and kissed his lips and he instantly kissed you back–tasting him on your lips.

“Let’s take these off you, hm?” you said as tugged at the rope around his wrists. He nodded and let you untie him. It’s not like he can escape anyway, where would he go? No one would believe that you, the kind officer, would ever kidnap anyone. And he’s desperate for love and attention, he can’t leave if he wanted because he wouldn’t have anyone to compensate for the lack of love he’s received. He became dependent on you.

As soon as you untied him, he grasped your waist and brought you between his legs, pressing his face on your stomach as he kissed the skin on your belly. You caressed his hair, allowing him to touch and worship you as he wanted.

“You want more?” you asked softly and he nodded against your stomach, “I do,” he whispered.

“Come on then,” you said as you took his hands and pulled him from the chair, “Let’s go to my room. My home is your home now.”

-

It was indeed his home now. He hadn’t noticed but you have, the way he started to leave his things in your house such as clothes and shoes. It was a small change but he slowly began to move in with you. It was such a power trip dynamic that you loved, having this power over him. He can’t ever leave you, where would he go?

Your obsession with him was successful. This was all you wanted from the start. You’ve had eyes for him ever since he got assigned to help you and your team on a murder case.

And now he’s on your bed, naked and thrusting into you from behind as you bent over with your ass in the air. His hands on your hips as he was on his knees behind you on the bed. Your hands held the bed’s headboard, feeling it slam against the wall everytime he plunged deep into you from behind. His cock leaving and entering with force, as if trying to prove his loyalty to you. He was like a dog, in a way. The tip of his cock grazed your cervix, causing your eyes to roll back and a moan to slip past your lips. He groaned and whimpered, feeling his cock get swallowed by your tightening walls.

“Y/n,” he whined as his hands moved to your waist, gripping your body tighter, forcing your body on his cock. Pushing and pulling you as his hips did the same, the sound of skin slapping echoing loudly around the room.

“Fuck–” he cursed under his breath, “You’re so tight. I’m gonna–”

“Don’t stop,” you moaned, moving your body on him to help him. He leaned down to bury his face on your neck, pressing open mouthed kisses on your skin as his chest pressed against your back. His hand released your waist to squeeze at your bouncing breasts, “Pretty,” he murmured into your ear as he squeezed your tits again.

His thrusts became sloppy as you neared your organism, he could feel the way your pussy began to throb and it was sending him on a frenzy. When your sweet nectar came around his cock, coating him wet and making sinful squelching sounds, he couldn’t hold himself back and he slammed his hips against your ass and came deep inside you. His dick throbbed as he shot his rope of white cum inside your pussy.

His cock softened but he didn’t move, both you were left panting and trying to catch your breath. Your bodies sweaty as the room smelled of sex. When he pulled out of you, you brought your hand down to your cunt to collect his cum and put it back inside, he groaned at the sight that he just watched and he couldn’t believe he just came inside you.

“Aren’t you going to clean me up?” you asked and he got snapped out of his thoughts. He quickly nodded and got off the bed, “Yes–hold on.”

He went into the bathroom and got a wet towel, then he came back into the room and cleaned you of his cum. After discarding the towel, he joined you on the bed and cuddled you.

“I love you,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest. You smiled and huddled into his chest, “I love you more.”

[imrllytootiredforthis]

sub yuta okkotsu agenda 😔

no bc i got THOUGHTS, i got so many thoughts about my babygirl named yuuta okkotsu, you don't even UNDERSTAND how badly i want him

him in the movie-*aggressive eye twitch*, his big sweet innocent puppy eyes-fuck it just *short circuits*

AND THEN afterwards when he's his anxious, tired, emo self (me too fr), like he's still just my cutie patootie and it's a literal CRIME how little sub fics of him there are bc take one look at that baby AND TELL ME that he is a daddy dom in bed-you'd be lying to yourself and me-and we do not tolerate lying in this house

no but fr, he is not domming for his life. a service top-perhaps, he would still cry a lot though and if you were making HIM fuck YOU he would beg for you to just take over, his arms shaking on either side of your head as he tries to make you feel good. because it's not the same like this-he wants you to fuck him, he wants to ride you as your hands grope over his body, he wants to pinned against a wall and fucked hard and rough within an inch of his life.

babyboy just wants to be loved and taken care of by his so

[theoldkyokodied]

(Slides over even more Re-Animator doodles to you)

Bone Apple teeth!!

Edit: DISCLAIMER: Before you decide to watch Re-Animator, make sure to check for content warnings, there is a scene that a lot of people choose to skip!

[pippytmi]

Your ennemies to lovers prompts make me think so much about kacy during S1. I appreciate all of your Kacy fics and love the emotions you manage to create with your writing. I was wondering if you would be interested in writing a story that combines prompt 4 and 6?

It is an unspoken rule that when the DIA is involved in a case, Lucy needs to be kept far, far away.

At least, that’s how Jesse rationalizes trying to keep Lucy away from DIA Officer Whistler. He cites repeated complaints to Tennant (undeserved ones), numerous whisper-shouting matches in the halls (all Whistler’s fault), and ending in the middle of tense stare-downs more often than not (obviously biased). So really, it’s a no-brainer that Lucy indignantly ignores Jesse’s pleas and makes it her mission to give as good as she gets.

“Good morning, DIA Officer Whistler,” Lucy tells her sweetly this morning, having been waiting outside the elevator just to catch the briefly-perplexed, then immediately-annoyed expression on Whistler’s face.

“Special Agent Tara,” Whistler says curtly. “I was told I would be speaking with Agent Boone today.”

“He’s busy,” Lucy says. “Small mishap with his car.” (She’d let the air out of his tires, actually, just in preparation for today).

Whistler’s expression does not waver. “I’ll speak with Special Agent Tennant, then,” she says.

“Or,” Lucy says, following as Whistler begins to stalk through the bullpen, “you can discuss the case with me. I haven’t actually been briefed on why you’re here, but if you give me two minutes…”

Whistler comes to an abrupt stop, and Lucy nearly knocks them both over; Whistler has to grip Lucy’s arm just to keep her from falling on her face, and when Lucy meets Whistler’s gaze, she sees—strangely—a kind of uncharacteristic apprehension that Whistler never has. Whistler drops Lucy’s arm like she has been burned, and her voice goes quiet when she says, 

“It really would make more sense to discuss clearance with your boss. It’s a time-sensitive matter.”

“Oh.” Lucy tries to hide her confusion, but it’s a halfhearted attempt at best; usually, the back-and-forth with Whistler is inevitable (and maybe even slightly thrilling). Whistler never just…gives up. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” Whistler says, already heading towards Jane’s office with renewed intensity. “Excuse me.”

Lucy is practically rooted in her spot, bewildered, and she watches as Tennant beckons Whistler inside before shutting the door. “Huh,” she says aloud. “Weird.”

“What’s weird?” Kai comes in carrying coffee, and he freezes in place as he, too, realizes what Lucy is looking at. “Damn. DIA’s here already? We haven’t even been briefed on the case yet.”

“Apparently it’s ‘time-sensitive’,” Lucy says, complete with air quotes and everything. “Think this means Whistler will actually give us something for once?”

“I’m not holding my breath,” Kai yawns, offering Lucy her cup before he wanders over to his desk. “Hey, where’s Jesse?”

(Lucy decides not to incriminate herself by answering that).

By the time Whistler and Jane emerge, both Kai and Lucy are pretending to be working and Jesse is just barely bursting through the doors. Jane doesn’t comment on either; instead, she waves her arms to get everyone together and begins her spiel about how they need to work with DIA and be a happy team or whatever. Honestly, Lucy is kind of tuning out the pep talk and is instead studying Whistler—everything about her body language screams discomfort, from the stiffness of her shoulders to the sharpness of her set mouth. And when she catches Lucy staring, all she does is quickly look away.

Weird.

Later, after they've been fully briefed and Jane dismisses them to do boring grunt work, Lucy tries to edge closer to Whistler and ask what exactly DIA needs to be here for. But when Whistler sees her coming, she makes a beeline towards Jesse instead, and Lucy is left frowning at their backs.

At first Lucy doesn't think too much of it. Jesse is probably handling the precious, redacted DIA files that point them to the possible suspects in this abduction case. But then, after Lucy is tasked with talking to their kidnapping victim's husband, she tries to be polite and ask Whistler if she wants to sit in. A gesture of goodwill, really, to make Whistler feel like she’s part of the investigation. 

“Hey Whistler, do you want to get in on this?” Lucy waves her case file enticingly when Whistler emerges from the break room. “We can do a good cop/bad cop routine. Obviously we know who's who in that scenario, but if you ask nicely I might consider flipping you for bad cop.”

Whistler blinks at her. “What?”

“I'm going to interview Sergeant Nguyen’s husband,” Lucy clarifies. “Want to help?”

“That's not in my job description,” Whistler says, brow crinkling in deeper confusion. “And I have to go talk to Tennant.”

“Again?” Lucy asks this question to the empty space where Whistler used to be. Except this time, Whistler is not being invited into Jane’s office. No, Whistler is just walking away, and pretending to get a call so she has an excuse to exit the hallway.

In an instant, Lucy is pissed off. Here she is, extending an olive branch, and Whistler is acting like she's too good for it. Fine—if Whistler wants to avoid her, then two can play at that game.

Ernie patiently listens to Lucy explain all of this once the interview with the Sergeant's husband gets them nothing. “So that’s why you're hiding in here,” he guesses. “Because Whistler doesn’t want to fight with you like usual.”

“I'm not hiding,” Lucy scoffs. “I actually came here to discuss…” She lamely grabs the top file on his desk, flipping it open to the first page. “Timothy Summers. Hm. Yeah, I think he's our guy.”

“Great,” Ernie says. “So an arrest is imminent, then?”

“Oh, definitely. That's why I'm here…with you…for our next move.”

“And how does the fact that he's been dead for six months fit into this?”

Lucy pauses. “You couldn’t have just told me that?”

“It’s literally underneath his picture. Deceased.” Ernie jabs at the file with his finger, and Lucy smacks him with it. “Ow! God, you’re mean when you fight with your girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Lucy’s voice comes out several octaves higher than it should. “Why would you say that?”

“Uh, lots of reasons.” Ernie pops open a box of candy on his desk, offering Lucy a sympathetic red vine which she numbly accepts. “Everyone can see it. Honestly, I thought you two were going to start going at it on Kai’s desk the other day when Whistler broke the news that we were off the Dominguez case.”

Lucy’s jaw drops. “Because we were arguing?”

“Intensely arguing,” Ernie corrects. “Kai and I placed bets on who would kiss who first.”

“Are you serious? She hates me.” 

“Does she?” Ernie continues chewing on his red vine before whispering conspiringly, “Or does she secretly burn for you?”

Horrified, Lucy ditches the candy; surely, that must be the reason she suddenly feels sick to her stomach. “Forget it. I’m going to hide somewhere else.”

“So you are hiding. I knew it! Hey, can you—”

Whatever Ernie wants, Lucy doesn’t stick around to find out. She decides she’s going to find Kai instead, see if he has any actual leads in the case.

Except she ends up bumping into Whistler again. Full-on body contact this time, even—Whistler jerks backwards, Lucy tries to jump into the wall, and really it's a wonder it doesn't end in catastrophe.

“I'm sorry, I…” Whistler trails off when she sees Lucy. “Um, Tennant said I had to talk to Ernie about Sergeant Nguyen’s finances. Is he here?”

“Yeah, he's in there.” Lucy gestures vaguely over her shoulder. “The tech-nerd talk is all yours. I need to go talk to...other people. About things.”

Whistler nods awkwardly, still waiting, and Lucy belatedly steps out of the doorway in order to head back to the bullpen. Okay, so, Operation Avoid Whistler is officially off to a bad start.

But when she catches up to Kai, he has a much better idea of how to spend their time, and it also guarantees Lucy can avoid Whistler perfectly.

“Sergeant Nguyen was last seen at a Vietnamese restaurant two blocks from here,” Kai says. “Do you want to go check it out? Maybe we'll get something the police didn't.”

Lucy’s spirits are immediately lifted. “Yes. I could go for a banh mi,” she says dreamily. “Ooh, and some spring rolls.”

“I'm…pretty sure we're not allowed to order food from our suspects.”

“We don't know if they're our suspects,” Lucy reminds him. “And besides, spring rolls never kidnapped anyone.” She pats him on the shoulder reassuringly. “Give me five minutes and I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

It ends up being closer to twenty minutes to update Jane on their next move, but Jane does give her blessing to investigate (and bring back lunch). Lucy has a pep in her step the entire way out to the parking lot, where…Whistler is standing.

Lucy notices her first; Whistler is facing the ocean, hand cupped above her forehead and frowning at something. She looks so serious—and out of place—that Lucy almost considers asking what’s wrong. Key word almost, because she is still on avoid-Kate-Whistler-mode, and she makes a mad dash to Kai’s car before Whistler can spot her.

Kai yelps when Lucy yanks the door open with, admittedly, a sense of urgency that is a tad unwarranted. “What—?”

“Drive, Kai,” Lucy demands, and he immediately starts up the engine, but he eyes her warily all the same.

(Unfortunately, Lucy makes eye contact with Whistler through the window as the car peels out of the lot, and she groans and sinks low in her seat.)

“What was that?” Kai ventures to ask. “Are you and Whistler fighting?”

“For once, no,” Lucy says. “She’s been avoiding me. So now I’m the one avoiding her.”

“Well did something happen?” The drive is quick, and before they know it, Kai is easing the car into a parking spot. “I know you two get…uh. Really passionate sometimes.”

“Because she hates me,” Lucy reiterates, feeling like a broken record at this point. “So I hate to break it to you, but you and Ernie are not going to collect on any bets related to kissing.”

Kai winces. “You know about that?”

“Yes, Kai, what the hell? I expect this from Ernie, but from you?”

“Any way I can make it up to you?” Kai asks weakly.

“Buy me lunch and we’ll talk,” Lucy says, and Kai—newfound meddler that he has proved to be—can at least follow instructions beautifully.

The restaurant turns out to be a dead-end case wise, but their menu is grand; they order too much food and bring enough lunch for everyone. (Even Whistler).

But when Lucy ever-so-casually mentions this, Jane just shrugs and says,

“I told her to stick around for you two, but she said she had to finalize some reports.”

“Wow,” Ernie says around a mouthful of noodles, “that’s dedication. Turning down free food just for work.” He pointedly raises his eyebrows at Lucy, who in turn tries very hard to glower at him with just her eyes.

“Good for her,” is all Lucy has to say about that. Jane gives her a curious look for the comment, but thankfully doesn’t ask.

“Hey, Lucy,” Ernie says suddenly. “I left my tea in the lair. Can you do me a favor and bring it to me?”

Lucy—still cradling her precious, half-eaten banh mi—has to do an actual double-take. “Why can’t you get it?”

“Because I have a cramp…in my leg…and you love me,” Ernie says. When Lucy stares back at him, unimpressed, he tries again with: “And I’ll owe you?”

“Fine,” Lucy sighs. “But you’re being so weird.” Suspiciously weird, even, but his scheming doesn’t click until Lucy is actually opening Ernie’s door and—“Oh.”

Whistler lifts her head at the intrusion, her stunned expression likely a mirror of Lucy’s. “Special Agent Tara,” she says.

“Whistler,” Lucy says slowly. “What are you doing in here?”

“Ernie said I could borrow his computer,” Whistler says. “DIA wants me here until we get a ransom demand, and I wanted to get some work done.”

“Ernie let you borrow his computer,” Lucy echoes. “Willingly?”

“Yes?” Whistler tilts her head questioningly. “Sorry, did you need something?”

Lucy knows she should be looking for Ernie’s tea. She also knows she should probably ask Whistler about it. But all that comes out is: “You know, we brought lunch for everyone.”

“Thank you, but I had lunch already.” Whistler glances back down at the computer screen, tapping away at its keys in a silent dismissal, and in an instant Lucy has had enough.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

The mechanical typing falters. “I’m not.”

“You’re working with everyone else on my team but me,” Lucy says. “That kind of feels like you’re avoiding me.”

“Maybe I felt like getting actual work done for once.” Whistler looks up again, this time with a deep-set frown on her lips. “And I wasn’t in the mood to fight.”

“Hey, you’re the one who fights with me!”  Lucy argues. “Literally, from day one. You yelled at Jane about me in front of everyone.”

“Because you stole a sensitive report which you had no clearance for!”

“Actually, I read it upside down while you were talking about how I didn’t have clearance for it,” Lucy counters. “No stealing required.”

Whistler’s jaw clenches. “That is not any better.”

“But it means I’m not a thief. I’m just…you know, crafty,” Lucy says. “Come on, haven’t you ever bent the rules a little to break a case?”

“I don't break cases,” Whistler says flatly. “I protect intel.”

Lucy rolls her eyes. “Fine,” she snaps, exasperated, “you’re a saint and a better person than I am. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Are you—what is your problem? That is not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?” Lucy lets the words hang between them in the ensuing silence. She doesn’t even realize that she has placed her hands on the desk in challenge—barely any space between them now—until Whistler is hastily standing up.

Even as tall as she is, Whistler’s voice comes out incredibly small. “Nothing,” she says finally. “Please forgive my…gross unprofessionalism. Clearly, I have overstayed my welcome.” She steps out from behind the desk without even bothering to close whatever she’d been working on, and Lucy sees red.

“Oh sure, just run away,” Lucy huffs. “Go ahead! Prove you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I haven’t been—”

“I’m sick of playing this game with you!” Lucy cuts her off.

Whistler doesn’t move an inch. “What game?” 

Dammit. Ernie is most definitely in her head. What the hell; it’s not like Lucy has anything to lose. “The game where we pretend we don't like each other,” she says firmly. “You’re an asshole and I like to piss you off, but obviously there is something else here and I’m not crazy. This is—”

Honestly, in the back of her mind, the most Lucy expects is more denial. At worst, she expects Whistler to march out of the room and report her to Jane again. She certainly does not anticipate Whistler yanking Lucy in to kiss her breathless—just for a brief, dizzying moment—before pulling away.

Whistler tries to apologize, but Lucy doesn’t let her; she is once again determined to give as good as she gets (in a very different context). Lucy pulls Whistler right back in, grasping desperately at her face and stretching as fall as the tips of her toes will allow. 

It seems to reassure Whistler in any case, who eagerly slides her hands along Lucy’s back and melts against her. Maybe it's the months of pent-up aggression between the two of them, or maybe it's the knowledge that Whistler is an actual human being, or maybe it's just the ghost of the faint touch of Whistler's fingertips underneath the hem of Lucy’s shirt, but the kiss gets really intense really fast.

Lucy debates sliding her own hand under Whistler's shirt—see if she is as serious in her bra choices as she is in pantsuits—but then Whistler flicks her tongue into Lucy’s mouth and she cannot possibly be expected to focus. It's intoxicating and exhilarating and…

“Wait, wait,” Lucy regretfully manages to twist away. “We can't do this.”

“Right,” Whistler says, nodding rapidly. “It would be a mistake.” She's clearly trying to school her features into her usual stoic demeanor, but her efforts are completely undermined by her kiss-swollen lips and the obvious flush on her cheeks.

“What? No, I meant, we can't do this here,” Lucy says. “You think it would be a mistake?”

“Not if…you don't,” Kate says, almost like a question.

“Are you seriously going to throw yourself at me but not even say what you feel out loud? I think you're addicted to fighting with me,” Lucy decides.

“I didn't throw myself at you, and—if anything, you're the one trying to fight with me!” Kate exclaims. “Every day I come in, and you're there trying to undermine me. I've been trying to keep my distance for both our sakes. Obviously our working dynamic is…less than ideal, most of the time.”

“I'm not trying to undermine you. I'm just trying to get you to loosen up a little maybe,” Lucy says. “Which…okay, might be annoying. So I get why you're an uptight asshole sometimes. No offense!”

Whistler frowns. “Some offense taken.”

“Oh, it's fine,” Lucy says. “The asshole thing is unfortunately very hot. Ernie may or may not have had a point.”

“What does Ernie have to do with this?” Whistler looks horrified now.

“Not like—Ernie and I don't sit around discussing how hot you are,” Lucy tries to save face. “He just suggested that we might…you know…jump each other at some point.”

“You're not making this any better.”

“Then forget Ernie,” Lucy says. “Take him out of the equation entirely. Do you also find me unfortunately hot?”

“I wouldn’t call it unfortunate,” Whistler says. “But. Yes?”

“Okay, so…” Lucy trails off. “What are we doing here, Whistler? Do you want to walk out of here and pretend this never happened?”

“No.” Whistler steps forward hesitantly. “That’s not what I want. I…I like you, Lucy. And I know this would completely ruin our working relationship, but—”

“Shut up about work,” Lucy says, dragging Whistler back in for another fervorous kiss, delighting in the fact that Whistler certainly isn’t fighting her now.

(Lucy’s phone buzzing, however, does effectively kill the mood.)

“What is that?” Whistler is instantly back into work mode, smoothing her hair haphazardly as if someone is about to walk in any second. “Is it about the case?”

Lucy unlocks her phone with bated breath. “Maybe we finally have a ransom call,” she says, before the familiar face in her text messages proves otherwise. “...nevermind, it’s just Ernie. He wants to know if we’ve ‘kissed and made up’. I’m going to tell him we’re going to have sex in his chair.”

Whistler half-coughs, half-chokes. “Are we?”

“Obviously not,” Lucy says. Then, thoughtfully: “But I’m technically still on lunch. Did you drive here?”

“Yeah, I have a company car,” Whistler says. “Do you have another lead?”

“No, but I do have thirty minutes to spare,” Lucy says cheerfully. “Get your keys. We’re totally going to have sex in your company car.”

Whistler turns very, very red. “I…don’t think my boss would like that.”

“Fine, then we can make out in your company car,” Lucy amends. “But you’re going to have to leave first. Kai and Ernie have a bet going about us, and I don’t want either of them to win.”

“Your team has a strange obsession with your love life,” Whistler tells her matter-of-factly.

“Eh, could be worse,” Lucy says. “Jane could get involved.”

Whistler—marginally disheveled—manages to crack a smile. “Let’s not let it get that far,” she suggests, brushing one final kiss against Lucy’s mouth with a resigned sigh. “So…are we keeping this between us for now?”

“I guess so,” Lucy says begrudgingly. “Think you can keep on fighting me in front of everyone?”

Whistler shrugs. “Are you going to keep being an asshole?”

“Wha—hey, no fair! You’re the asshole. I’m the good-meaning, happy-go-lucky agent who just wants to keep you human,” Lucy says, poking at Whistler’s cheek until her smile grows even more.

“Challenge accepted,” Whistler says, smoothly tucking a strand of hair behind Lucy’s cheek before casually making her exit. 

Lucy places her hands on her hips and wistfully watches her go. This day has gone absolutely nowhere she expected it to, but dammit, she can’t be mad.

(Especially when her phone buzzes again with another text from Ernie. All it says is: NOOOOOO 😭).

[momhwa-agenda]

[3:30PM] Seokmin

You giggle in between moans, enjoying the sensation of Seokmin's large nose pressing against your clit. You think of pushing his face further to deepen his tongue in your core while grinding against his nose, but you remember Seokmin strictly prohibited you from using your hands for now. 

If you as much as laid your hands on him at any moment, he warned you that he wouldn't let you come at all. Your boyfriend showing dominance was undeniably a turn-on, but you always struggled to keep your hands to yourself. You'd beg --- after all Seokmin smirked when you begged him for something in bed once --- but you were too scared of not being able to come. 

And then you felt his hands grab at your sides, giving you exactly what you craved, you were on the verge of tears. The pleasure ran deep and intense, especially as you heard the sounds of Seokmin slurping down your juices. "S-Seok…" you moaned, trying to tell him that you were close. This only made him devour your sex profusely. It's as if the air was sucked out of your lungs, vision turning white. meanwhile Seokmin was taking in all your juices from your climax whilst grinding your body to his face, not wanting to waste a drop.

･:*.⋆❀⋆.*:･

Taglist: @daisyvisions @midnightfantasiez @kitschun @snowflakewhispers

[pers3phone399]

sorry babe can't talk rn i'm letting another fanfic completely overtake all of my waking thoughts

(it's "Methyl Nitrate Pineapples" and its sequel "Cherry Bomb Alchemy" by @fablecore (razbliuto on ao3) if you like One Piece OC stories and one (1) emo Surgeon of Death you should go read it too)

[crimescrimson]

Resident Evil Eating Shit Cam Volume 1: Resident Evil 0 (Billy) | Resident Evil Remastered (Jill and Barry) | Resident Evil 2 Remake (Leon) | Resident Evil 3 Remake (Jill) | Resident Evil: Revelations (Chris) | Resident Evil 5: LIN (Chris and Jill) | Resident Evil: Revelations 2 (Claire and Moira)

[xstarkillerx]

me when donnie writes nasty dom smut about how tyrannical anakin can be as a sexual partner bcos he’s traumatized and deranged 📸📸📸

yes this is about your chastity ashtray bit

aye yai yai imagine what you’d go through if he caught you trying to rub yourself hopelessly using the very contraption he forced you in

i wonder what you did to deserve being put there in the first place asmsksmdmxm 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Read this at 2:00am when I was supposed to be up by 4:00am, I've since taken time to mull things over🧘 spoiler... he get's meaner (implied consent). Oh and if you're a smoker, pretend you're not, for the next 973 words (I really didn't mean to end up writing that much)

Cruel and Unusual Punishment (ramble)

So yeah I reeeeally feel like I can see the look on his face when he sees you, like it's right there in my minds eye OK. His eyes are dark, but the corners of his mouth twitch the way they do when he's holding something back, you know, a smile, a witty remark, some vulgar thing on the tip of his tongue, whatever. But he's amused by you, so he takes a seat on one of the chairs in the room and you're left tentatively rocking your hips against whatever you were humping a minute ago. Because really, what's more embarrassing, stopping because you've been caught or continuing with him in the room? The answer is, being unsure of which action will get you into more trouble and he loves that he can see it on your face.

You feel a push against the curve of your spine though, warm but ghostly in the way the force always feels, and it guides your hips forward. Back. Forward. Back. And of course you still don't feel anything, but the motion is provocative enough to get you lost in it for a moment. When you risk a glance at him though, he isn't looking at you; he's got one hand up to use the force, but his eyes are focussed on the lighter burning the end of the cigarra between his lips. He doesn't often smoke. It's a prop more than anything, something to further sour him for you when he feels like being mean.

You avert your eyes before he gets the chance to look at you again. You hear him stand and loom closer. His force grip migrates to your hip and you can feel the indentation of each finger now, bruising, biting with dull phantom nails. The burning smell grows stronger. It's in your hair now as he blows it above your head.

There is still no sensation, but a growing ache in your torso, a pit in your stomach, and Anakin's flesh hand ghosting its touch at the small of your back. It travels up your body, a gentle threat between the shoulder blade, then neck, splaying into an open-hand cradle of the base your skull. His fingers travel up. You know it's coming; he clenches a fist full of your hair and roughly drags it back. Gasping, neck exposed, lips parted, gyrating like a fucking whore, you know you must look pathetic to him. His smile is sickly as he plucks the ciggara from his lips and places it between yours.

"Smoke it." He taunts. He knows you don't smoke, he knows you fucking hate it but his grip on your hair gets tighter and his head tilts expectantly. He's serious. The coughing fit is immediate and uncontrollable. The ciggara falls, barely missing your bare thigh causing you to flinch and yet his fist doesn't budge. The sharp pain in your outstretched throat grows with every cough, unsoothed by the string of kisses Anakin has begun trailing up the expanse of your pulsing neck.

"Again," he whispers in your ear, taking the ciggara and placing it between your lips once again, "deeper."

"Ani-" you choke in protest between fits of coughing. He doesn't acknowledge you, pre-occupied with entertaining himself with your body: kissing, biting, sucking, groping. Anakin takes a moment to reposition himself, now sitting on the bed he cradles your wheezing frame, your back against his chest.

"one more, please baby, just one more," his voice is gentler than his hands, bordering on pleading as the cold fingers of his metal hand play with your tits. He feels your chest expand as you relent and take a deep drag, and revels in the immediate shudder of another coughing fit. It hurts. It hurts so fucking bad. Your lungs reject every desperate grasp for oxygen, you're sure you're almost purple but the coughs just keep coming.

Anakin buries his face in your hair, leaving kisses across your sore scalp. Gentle, gentle, every kiss, every touch, every sound of sympathy has turned so gentle and your heaving body can't make sense of it. What is he playing at?

"Now," he says, "say sorry." but you can't, not through the coughing, not with the lack of air in your lungs. He brushes the now tangled mess of hair out of your face.

"Say you're sorry," he repeats, colder, more demanding, but you can't even attempt it right now because your lungs are screaming and it makes your eyes sting with tears. You understand the game he's playing now and it's a fucking cruel one.

He's got a hand on your throat now, feeling every muscle move and contraction as the coughing fit finally wears down, his eyes say it for him. Tell me you're fucking sorry, or you'll regret it.

"I'm sorry," you finally muster. Still horse, still sore in the throat.

"For what?" He's rubbing salt into the wound.

"Trying to touch what doesn't belong to me," you can only get it out above a whisper, but Anakin seems to soften after that. The hand at your throat trails upward and gently cups your face, urging you to turn around and look at him. His lips twitch with a ghost of a smile at your tear-filled red eyes and the drool threatening to leak from your bottom lip. He's satisfied with the mess he made out of you.

"Throat hurt?" He asks, sounding just shy of concerned. You nod your head, too sore, too dry, to embarrassed to utter a word. "Open," he urges, his thumb brushing your reddened lips that part for him. Anakin leans in close before spitting right into your mouth and pushing you off of him. As he stands he finds the discarded ciggara and carelessly puts it out on the table.

" If I catch you doing that again, I'll put it out on your skin."

Anakin leaves the room.

Masterlist

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

Phoenixeclipse Reincarnation AU

My au where Phoenix is killed on the journey. There was no way to bring her back no matter how hard the Monkey demons tried.

Her soul wasn't in the Diyu and they couldn't find it anywhere. After wrecking havoc there for months they finally had to admit defeat.

They were heartbroken as they believed that they lost their darling forever. It was only when their son Xiaotian who is going by Mk decides to go to the human city to get away from his overbearing dads that they meet their darling again.

She was as beautiful as they remembered her, but she was so much weaker, her power drained and she was... human.

[shadowcatzone]

imagine being drunk

Imagine being drunk in at in the angels share

Imagine undr pulling up your shirt and whining it's too warm

Imagine being being lying in ventis arms in on a chair in the angels share

And he put his cape around you because you- pulled up your shirt you're basically hal'f naked

Imagine trying to pu pull the cape over your head violently becaus it's warm

Imagine venti desperately trying to pull the cape back down BECAUSE YOUR N HALF NAKED

Imagine looking at venti u angrily but then start smiling and mumble n "no i can't be mad at you: and lying back down only to repeat pulling upthe capr rinse repaet

Imagine going home drunk but venti is soberwith you

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

Femme Fatale

Summary: Leon is a cop that got transferred to a new city in order to investigate the spike in murder cases. However, this isn’t an ordinary murder case. It is a serial killer murdering men.

Warning: mentions of blood, violence, death. !serial!killer reader x !cop Leon. Reader is 21+ (don’t drink under the legal age). Reader is female (hence the title lol)

Word count: 4,483

A/N: HELLOOOOO I feel like it’s been a hot minute since I wrote anything. I’ve been seeing a lot of short smut stories lately and I just wanted to bring something different to the table lol!!! Another murder fanfic with no smut (sorry smut lovers, but if you want a part two, I’ll write one!)

“You’ll wish you never met her at all, you’ll wish you never met her at all,” - Maneater, Nelly Fortudo

Nobody knows the true definition of being a femme fatale. It goes beyond aesthetic, but you use that for your own advantage. Seems like society does play a useful role for your adventures.

They are adventures to you, but the police like to call them "ongoing murders," whatever that meant. So, what if you killed a guy at a bar, he was being sleazy and wouldn't take no for an answer, so you acted out in self-defense. The cops believed you because why would they go against a woman who simply defended themselves? That'd tarnish their name and reputation.

So, you got away with your first murder. Easy as pie.

The memory was still fresh in your mind. You were out, hanging at a bar as you drank your savings away. Some horrible event happened prior to the night and what better way to cheer you up than a couple of drinks.

Of course, a man ogled you from the other side of the bar. Practically undressing you and fucking you in his sick and perverted mind. He was at least twice your age, what a psycho.

He had approached you, offered to buy you a drink to which you declined. Claiming you had too much to drink and had work in the morning the next day. You thought it ended at that as you made your exit, only to have life play an incredible joke at you. It wasn't incredible to you, but maybe to the universe it was.

The man had followed you and pulled into a sketchy and dark alleyway, attempting to drug you by attacking you from behind and stuffing a drugged piece of cloth against your mouth right under your nostrils. But it didn't go great for him, he's a total idiot that seemed to have no idea what he was doing. What a damn rookie.

You jabbed your elbow into his gut from behind, the man momentarily paralyzed which allowed you to swing your bag at his face. He stumbled backwards and fell. But that wasn't enough for you, was it?

No, it was not. It never is.

What is a woman if she can't bring revenge to her own self? And so, you watched as the man fell back against the concrete floor, cursing silently that he didn't hit his head hard enough. No worries, nothing a little help couldn't do, right?

You swore you weren't a violent person but as you straddled the man and beat the shit out of him, you felt nothing but pure bliss. A smile plastered on your face like a permanent reminder to the man that women aren't as easy as he thought they were. Oh, how naive men can be.

Blood covered your knuckles, his face so fucked up and bruised that it would be nearly impossible to recognize him. Until you spotted his driver's silence on the floor and stole it. This fucker needed to disappear and what better way than to do it yourself. You needed no help, you were independent. To hell with the patriarchy!

He was a heavy man, but you managed. You strangled him with the straps of your bag, watching as his face turned purple from the lack of oxygen. His eyes nearly bulging out of his sockets as he gasped and tried to pry your hands away. Disgusting, you thought.

The second he died; you didn't move. You needed to make sure he was gone for good and when he was, you weren't stupid enough to leave him there, oh god no.

You burnt him.

His body was tossed in one of those trashcans where teenagers come and lit fires while they committed underage drinking, for once you were happy those teenagers were of help.

And that was the first time you committed murder, and certainly not your last.

-

News reported the numerous cases of dead and missing men, you cried fake tears and showed fake empathy for the families of the victims but deep down you didn't care. They were all bad in your mind, letting their sons and brothers terrorize and claim what wasn't theirs in the first place.

Yeah, you became a mysterious symbol for female murderers. Nobody knew who this sudden serial killer was, much less what gender. But it gave hope to the women of the town, the ones stuck in a toxic relationship, the ones being forced to act like a mother rather than a daughter--you gave each one hope.

Right after the murders were set, the dead men would get exposed to the media. One of your victims had illegal pictures in his hard drive and you had no regret in releasing them to the media. As far as you were concerned, they could all rot in hell.

Your killings continued to pile up, each one different than the other to throw the police off tracks and make them start their investigation all over again. Gosh not only were they lazy but also stupid.

Not until that tall and blonde new cop showed in town. He was new but he seemed like a capable cop. You should've felt scared or threatened at the new addition to the station, but you didn't. You only felt amused that they had to bring outside help all because they couldn't figure out that you were the serial killer.

-

"You shouldn't be drinking during the day," a voice rang out from behind you as you sat on the bar stool, drinking away. You turned your head over your shoulder to find the new cop standing behind you. His blue uniform hugging his muscles tightly, his blonde hair reaching just below his ears and his blue eyes staring at you intently.

"It's not heathy," he added as he walked to stand next to your sitting form, to which you raised a single brow and turned your head back forward and took a sip of your drink, "Good morning to you too, Officer."

"Kennedy," he said, extending his hand out for you to shake, "But you can call me Leon if that's more comfortable for you."

You took his hand, shaking it firmly as you noted how strong he seemed to be, "I don't think anyone feels comfortable in the presence of a cop but sure," you said as you gave him a tight lipped smile.

"Can't argue with that," he replied as he took his hand away and watched you drink. There was a silence that overtook the two of you right before he spoke, he seemed rather hesitant.

"What do you know about the murders?" he asked cautiously, eyes narrowing as he stared at you, watching for any signs of... suspicion, perhaps?

"You mean the ones about the guys being found dead in a ditch?" you asked sarcastically, a half smirk reaching your lips, "Heard too much about them lately. It's all everyone seems to be thinking about these days..."

"Well, it makes sense. This killer seems to be targeting men and then exposing them for their... disturbing habits... you don't happen to know about the town's vigilante, would you?" he asked, propping his arm on the countertop of the bar and turned to face you.

You turned your head to look at him, feigning innocence at his question, "No, officer, I haven't learned anything about the serial killer. Everyone's been busy being on their best behavior..." you glanced down at his uniform, admittedly checking him out before you looked back at his face, "And I suggest you do too, have a nice day."

The would be the last time you saw the cop for the time being. You knew he was going to be tailing you from that moment, so you had to be strategic. Maybe you'd seduce your way out of jail but at the same time, isn't a little game of cat and mouse fun?

-

It hasn't been going well for Leon. As soon as he was transferred from his previous station, he's been overworked with the investigation. Sure, he wasn't a real detective, but he was still a cop recommended by a popular chief. In his email he had stated that Leon was "perceptive" and "had an intelligence beyond human comprehension."

Leon didn't know why the chief was so insistent in getting him out of that station and to a new city, but rumor has it that it was because the chief didn't want anyone to discover the affair he was having. He knew Leon would've been the first one to figure it out.

And it worked, because now Leon was sitting in an office, trying his damnest to think about all the murders. Trying to find a common denominator between all of them.

"You look like you haven't slept in days. Reminds me of my wife when we had our first child," a police officer, by the name of Robert, entered the room with two cups of coffee. Robert was his assigned partner, the seasoned detective sent to teach him the ropes around the new station. But Leon didn't need training, he was already good at his job, and he didn't need a nanny.

He offered Leon a cup of coffee, leaning back against the edge of the desk behind him as he stared at the corkboard with evidence and pictures of the murders, strings going left and right as he linked each crime scene to another, "Yeah, well, I don't have either so I'm sure I'll be fine," Leon responded as he took the coffee and sipped it.

"You're really trying to solve this? You know we've been at a dead end for days, right? Half of these will turn cold and get stored down in the archives..." Robert muttered as he glanced at Leon, to which Leon simply nodded.

"Yep, that's exactly what I'm going to do," Leon replied, as if stating the obvious, "Isn't it suspicious how all of these murders are so... different? Too different?"

Robert could only stare at Leon with confusion, "What the hell are you--No, I don't find it suspicious. I actually think we just have multiple murderers."

"You think about 20 people in this town are murderers?" Leon retorted as he raised an eyebrow at Robert.

Robert sighed exasperatedly, "Okay, maybe not, but how are you even sure this is one person?"

"Because the perpetrator has been too careful. See this?" Leon took a picture from the corkboard, a piece of evidence from the crime scene, "None of the weapons have been found. But we know that they were used. There's a slit in this man's stomach, caused by a knife... don't you see? This serial killer purposefully takes the weapon and doesn't leave it behind because they know we can track their fingerprints and it's a game over for them."

Robert was actually a bit impressed but then he scoffed, "Leon, that seems like a stretch. What if the killer doesn't even use weapons? I mean, what if-what if-fuck. I hate when you make sense..." he muttered, which prompted Leon to smirk just a bit.

"I can feel that we are slowly getting closer to solving this. We just need to think like the killer..." Leon muttered right before the lightbulb above his head lit up, "And what better way than to act the part, huh?"

Robert looked at him confused with furrowed brows, watching as Leon took his jacket and started to make his way out, "Where are you going?"

"The only place where guys roam like fish--the club," he said before he stepped out of the room and started to walk out of the station towards his car. Robert could only sigh, wishing he was young enough to catch up to Leon's speed.

-

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you muttered as you paced around your room. Ever since that new cop came into town, it's been hard for you to continue your killings. You're almost sure he's waiting to catch you at any moment and arrest you.

It's been a couple of days since his arrival, but he's been patrolling the places you'd usually go to catch your victim, the bar, the club, hell, even the park!

He was too good at his job and it both pissed you off and stressed you out.

"Fuck!" you yelled in frustration, for the past half year, you've been killing with no problem, but now that going to stop soon enough. You couldn't let the new cop win, this was no longer a game.

This was war.

You quickly dashed to your room, hopping on your bed and getting your laptop. You usually weren't the type of girl to stalk people but screw it, this Leon Kennedy needed to get out.

But to your dismay...he was a decent dude.

Nothing too important stood out. His Facebook was boring, the only pictures you could find were posted by his family. His Instagram was dry, he'd post without captioning his pictures. Who does that?!

You learned he graduated high school at 18, and then graduated from the academy early due to academic excellence and immediately got sent to a police station to work at only 21 years old. He didn't seem to have many friends, but then again, online life was nothing like real life.

But not all was lost. You learned he was 27 years old and single. You could use this to your advantage, to become the femme fatale everyone had been whispering about around the streets.

-

Leon went undercover to the town's most popular night club, he dressed casually and out of his uniform. The last thing he needed was for him to cause more panic than the serial killer had instilled.

"One beer, please," Leon ordered at the bar. The music blasting off from the speakers on the walls, lights down low as lasers and light sticks illuminated the place. People danced around, nothing too suspicious except for the disgusting display of affection by some couples.

"Here," the bartender said as he slid Leon his beer. He wasn't usually a beer guy, but he assumed he need a light drink to push through. vodka and tequila didn't seem fitting for the job he was currently trying to do.

He walked around the club, his eyes glancing everywhere for any suspicious activity. He had found none.

Well not nothing, his eyes landed back on the bar, walking towards it to get another drink and give up for the night. Until he saw you. You were dressed in a tight little dress, your hair and makeup done but he wasn't paying attention to any of that. He paid attention to the way you were talking with a guy.

Now, the idea was still a bit weak in his mind. He had no proof that the serial killer could be a woman but something in him was setting off his buttons of suspicion. Why hasn’t he thought about it before?

Maybe because he had no real reason too. He didn’t mean it, but he thought most murders were caused by men. But he just couldn’t shake off something about you. So he lingered a bit, deciding to forget about the beer and just focus on you.

It didn’t surprise him that you were flirting back with the guy that has been talking to you, he was handsome but not as handsome as himself (his own words). He stood far, making sure not to blow his cover. He hasn’t found anything remotely suspicious so it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on you, right?

That’s when he followed you out the club, the man walking next to you and guiding you to his car. That was weird but he’s heard of one night stands. Personally, Leon wasn’t that type of guy.

The streets were crowded at night and he lost sight of you for a quick second, until he spotted your figure getting pulled into an alley. Suspicious enough? Very much so. He didn’t hesitate to take out his gun from the waistband of his pants, getting ready to defend if anything were to happen to you. He was a cop and a gentleman after all.

But as he approached the isolated alley in which he last saw you, it was unexpectedly dark and quiet. Leon’s steps were slow and quiet as he walked further into the alley, his gun aimed and pointed in front of him in case something decided to jump at him. Luckily nothing did.

Although he did hear a sound. What was that? He wondered as he stepped deeper into the alleyway. His shoes rubbing off the cracked concrete floor until he was met with a horrific sight.

The man that had tried to take you to his car was found dead on the floor. He immediately dialed emergencies and went over to the man, it all happened to quickly and his eyes darted around to try and find you.

-

You knew you were being followed that night at the club and your suspicion was correct when you saw the familiar sight of a certain blonde man on the reflection of a car’s window. He’s astute, too astute for his own good.

Much to his dismay, the man you killed died on the way to the hospital so he couldn’t give out a statement of who had attacked him or what happened. But Leon wasn’t going to rest until he found you, was he?

You debated flying to another country, turning your back and leaving for good. But something stopped you from doing so. What about your job? What about your family and friends? They wouldn’t believe you if you went abroad in your own for no specific reason.

Curse you Leon Kennedy.

-

After that night, he’s been practically living in the station. Evidence piling up but he had no solid evidence that it was you who committed the crimes. His word alone couldn’t be trusted for two reasons; he didn’t even you actively attack the man and his opinion as a cap was already biased! He was in a pickle. It didn’t help that the higher ups pressured him into speeding up the case, they wanted the culprit to get caught already as all the men in the town cowered in their homes. Scared that they would be next.

Not so fun when the shoe’s on the other foot, huh?

He knew he shouldn’t but he did anyway. His stalked for your information, sneaking into the town’s city hall to retrieve your files like birth certificates and such. Turns out the police didn’t hold these documents, the city hall did.

He had found your address and immediately began to drive to your place. He needed answers and he didn’t care that he was breaking police code. He knew it was you, you had to be involved in this somehow.

As he approached your place, he wanted to pound at the door like they did in FBI movies but he knew he had to act civil since he had no real evidence to base his suspicions on.

Once the door was opened, he noticed your startled expression, almost catching off guard by his sudden visit. And he wasn’t even wearing his uniform, “Officer,” you said as you stood by your door, “To what do I owe the pleasure…?”

“I saw you,” he said, jumping straight to the point, “The night that man died—you were with him. I saw you walk out of the club with him and then somehow, he died.”

His eyes were piercing daggers at you, almost as if he wanted to peek into your mind and read your thoughts.

But you only stared at him silently, Leon was too smart, “I didn’t feel good and he called me an Uber,” you lied casually.

“You didn’t feel good, huh?” He huffed in amusement, glancing away for a second before he looked back down at you.

“Yeah, I got drunk and started to feel sick. He did me a favor,” you continued with your lie, knowing damn well you weren’t sick at all.

He hummed and nodded his head once, nibbling his bottom lip as he stared at you with an analytical gaze.

“Take care, then,” he muttered, taking a step backwards, keeping his eyes on you. As if telling you that he was on to you. He was going to uncover your secret.

-

When he left, you felt as if the world almost stopped. Your heart was hammering inside your chest, your breathing labored as you thought about what the hell just happened. Damn you, Leon. You really know how to use that brain, huh?

You couldn’t just stop the murders, that would only give Leon more proof that you were the serial killer he was after. No, you needed to keep killing to stray him away. You did it with the other cops, couldn’t be that hard.

-

You’ve killed, but you killed less men. The police had advised individuals to remain in their homes after curfew. That it was dangerous with a serial killer still on the loose.

It was all so stupid. You were serving revenge to all the women who fell into the traps of men and here comes a man to stop you.

That’s when it hit you, what if you tried to kill the officer himself?

No, you couldn’t. That would only sell you out.

But what you could do was send him a message.

On your next victim, you planned it differently. Instead of the clean and simple murder way you usually go with, you decided that you’d be messy. Make him confused, make him believe that the serial killer was a scared person. That would shove him away from you for a while, right?

When Leon arrived at the crime scene, he saw the blood splattered around the brick walls of behind a convenience store. The body dumped inside the dumpster, his body slashed with knife wounds and face beaten up. You tried to make it seem like a man committed the murder, men were messy, right?

Unfortunately for you, in the midst of your perfectly messy murder, Leon had found CCTV footage of the whole thing with your face showing. This was solid evidence to finally get you.

-

And that’s how you ended up at the station’s interrogation room with your wrists cuffed to the table. The room was cold, grey, and bright. Almost looking like a hospital. Modern architecture kills artists.

“So,” Leon started as he sat across from you, files laying flat on the table, “Care to explain?”

“Explain what?” You feigned obliviousness.

“The murders, the blood—everything?”

You held back an eye roll, he had caught you and there was no point in lying, was there?

With a defeated sigh, you leaned back against the chair you were seated on, “I was… only trying to help,” you began quietly.

“Help? By committing murders and bringing terror to the town?”

“You don’t understand,” you immediately responded, a bit frustrated that he didn’t get to understand, “I killed those men because they’re nothing but a waste of space,” you spat bitterly.

He sat there in silence, brows pinching together as he crossed his arms over his chest, letting you continue. There’s no going back when the cat’s been out of the bag.

With a sharp inhale, you continued, “Those men, they do bad things. Prey on women and take advantage of them… I was tired, so, so, so tired, officer…” you whispered.

“When I realized that a man had tried to drug me and take advantage of me, something in me snapped and I knew then that I couldn’t sit back and let him do whatever he wanted to me. I refused to become an object for horny men that can’t keep their dick inside their pants,” you muttered, leaning forward as your eyes narrowed at Leon. You weren’t blaming Leon but he understood your motives.

“So you took it upon yourself to get rid of these guys…” he muttered, his head slowly nodding as he let the information rest in his mind.”

“I did,” you admitted, “I had to.”

“You had to?” He repeated as his eyebrows raised.

“Yes—you don’t understand what it’s like to fear for your life just because of your gender. I didn’t choose to be born this way so why should I let people treat me like shit?”

“I understand where you’re coming from but hurting other people will only hurt you,” he said quietly as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, “How much longer did you think you could’ve kept going, hm? You’re a smart girl, Y/n, you deserve better than jail.”

His words were sincere and for a moment, your walls came down. He was right, in a way, how much longer could you have kept killing people before it caught up to you? Before you lost your mind? You didn’t even think about that.

Silence took over and he sighed softly, looking you over with pity. You were young, smart, and had a bright future ahead of you. He almost felt bad for wanting to catch you this whole time. Almost.

“What’s done is done,” he finally said, breaking the silence, “You committed unforgivable crimes…” his voice trailed off.

“But you had a good reason for them,” he muttered and pulled the files back towards him, “You were defending yourself and your friends during these occasions. It was self defense,” he said firmly, as if he was changing your story.

Wait, what?

The files in his hands held the pictures of you violently killing people, but never once did he actually open that file. Instead, he made up a story for you…

“Why?” You whispered, staring deeply into his eyes. He shrugged and stood up, “Everyone’s been on their best behavior, right?”

-

It’s been a few days since you’ve been questioned. Leon had gotten rid of the evidence and instead made up new ones that led to the story he fabricated for you.

It was all surreal.

Never once in your life, you would’ve thought a cop would help you. You felt shocked, baffled, and confused. But a part of you was grateful. You should’ve known the court system of this town was just as careless as the police station before Leon came because all they did was give you a slap on the wrist and let you go. Once again, not wishing to have their reputation tarnished.

You’ve stopped your killings, for obvious reasons. But, you were glad you’ve lived your five seconds of fame. Even if your identity was never exposed to the public.

You owed it all to Leon. Too bad he had left town. He returned to his city, claiming he had some unfinished business (most like with his chief for throwing him into this town so unexpectedly).

Part of you missed him, it was fun while it lasted, right?

[offbeat-manga-ships]

TORA WA RYUU WO MADA TABENAI. / 虎は龍をまだ喰べない。 / THE TIGER WON'T EAT THE DRAGON YET by Inaba Hachi / 一七八ハチ • chapter 7

[virtualxchaos]

Title: Mischief

Fandom: Resident Evil

Pairing: Wesker x Leon

Rating: Mature

Chapters: 3 (complete)

Words: 4,843

Summary: "Oh god," fell out of his mouth without permission, too stunned to move as Albert fucking Wesker stopped a few feet away from him.

Wesker smirked. "Correct."

[heartplaces]

Friends can mean a lot of different things.

[carcarrot]

am i allowed to have not great teeth if i just ask really niceys