#the bsaas golden boy

[chxckandmxte]

Prompts For The Heavy Hearted (Angst) || Accepting

@alphateamsfinest​ sent: “Is it getting bad again?”

Bad, was just the simple term for it, but it was much worse than that. Ever since his life began to spiral downwards, every single day, he felt like another part of him died, and his body was slowly killing itself, the stress, overwhelming thoughts filling his mind with questions making him wonder, just how long could he keep this up, he was already sick of his job, among several other things that added to the stress. 

The fact that this fight he joined three decades ago was still going strong, at this point, it just seemed like it would never end. He hated his job, for fighting constantly, year after year, only for all the work he’d done to wipe the viruses out over the years, all be in vein -- you took care of one virus, only for some other madman with several screws loose, to just come up with a new one entirely, it was all the same old shit.

Sitting around at a bar like he was on most of his days, Leon was sitting in a usual spot, a table across from the window so he could blankly stare into it, especially when his thoughts would become too loud before the booze did it’s job in numbing the pain, and making him feel something, he’d take the burning of the liquor in his throat over anything else, especially with where he was at in his sad excuse that was currently his life. Sitting at the table, the agent slams back a large swig of his liquor, downing the entire glass.

Just as he was refilling his glass, the chime of the pub bell rang, signaling that another customer had walked in, Leon had been here for three hours already, lots of people came in and out of the place while he sat there keeping to himself like he always did, so he didn’t really pay it any mind, that was, until he heard a familiar voice talking to him. Slowly, he turns his head to see that it was none other than BSAA Operative Jill Valentine, honestly, he was pretty surprised to see her here. There was no way she knew he was here though, so if anything, this was probably some sort of coincidence.

A cocking of his head to the side as whiskey-soaked parted to speak.

[{ ☣ }] - “Bad, ain’t even the half of it.” He replies in spite, helping himself to another sip before blue eyes revert back to look at her.

[{ ☣ }] - “What are you even doing here? A dive bar like this, is the last place I’d expect to find the BSAA’s golden girl.”

[lechiita-miilk]

Oh, look who it is! The BSAA's golden boy and Dr. High-hopes… 😒🥃

[bitchface24-7]

Leon S. Kennedy - Character Analysis

I know that the whole training to become a government agent for the DSO via blackmail was horrendous. Nightmarish. Abusive.

But can I add that Leon being an attractive, 21 year old probably made it so much worse.

Imagine being Leon S. Kennedy, freshly surviving an apocalypse as your first day on the RCPD. You’ve seen horrors and dealt with things only seen in fiction, you’ve made a friend out of a worried young college student and the daughter of the scientists responsible for the destruction of Racoon City.

You’re taken into an interrogation room, still in your filthy police uniform and the bullet in your shoulder hasn’t been checked yet. You’re given one option. Work with us as a BOW killing machine or we send your friend to jail and experiment on the 12 year old. And if we don’t get the results we want… we may have to dispose of her.

You became a police officer to protect the public, the innocent. So you do just that.

You sign your life away.

Now in training you’re abused mentally, physically, and emotionally. People don’t take you seriously at all. Constantly being looked at with sneers, or unwanted appreciation.

You have to chip away at the last little bit of your innate goodness to survive here. You can no longer be that bright eyed, excited kid that finished top of his class at the police academy. You have to become, you have to be the soldier you slowly invented as the night in Racoon City progressed.

You’re not given any time off to properly rest. You’re the DSO’s top agent; you don’t have a choice.

Mission after mission, it seems never ending. The horrors you’ve faced keep piling up to the point you can’t even remember the good memories; the normal memories you experienced before September 30th, 1998.

People expect you to be perfect. The DSO’s Golden Boy. You can’t even have a small vacation in peace before colleagues bug you. Your FOS Hunnigan, the BSAA, TerraSave.

And people wonder why you’re best friend is the bottom of a bottle. It’s the only friend you actually have (at least in your mind it is)

[spaceclefairy]

Trouble

Pairing: Chris Redfield/Reader

Prompt: "You're in trouble now."

Tagging: @verbo-volant​ happy birthday buddy ;D

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

Meetings aren’t really your thing. You don’t have the attention span for them, and you certainly don’t have the patience to sit still for that long.

Chris appears to be in the same boat as you - he’s been staring idly at his phone for a solid twenty minutes. He has long since stopped listening to what the BSAA board members have to say (you keep hearing words like funding and finances, which are squarely above your pay grade). Chris is not meant to sit at a table listening to reports of finances - Chris is meant to punch boulders and shoot things. (He’s fine with that, especially if he never has to hear the word fundraising directed even tangentially at him.)

You’re sitting over at the far end of the table from Chris - just far enough away that you can’t catch his eye and make a face at him. He hasn’t even looked up from his phone, not once.

Which gives you an idea…

You lean back in your chair so that no one could possibly peek over your shoulder to see what you’re doing. That picture you took last night but never sent would do nicely… It’s you half-naked, laying in bed. More of a confidence booster than anything you would send to anyone, but, hey, it still looks pretty damn good. You’re sure Chris isn’t going to be terribly worried about the mediocre lighting or the fact that those panties certainly aren’t your expensive lingerie if he can see your tits.

You double-check to make sure it’s Chris you’re sending it to, then hit send. You lean back in your chair to gauge his reaction.

You can tell when he’s gotten it. He doesn’t look up at you, barely even registers he’s seen it - but the flush that starts to creep up his neck is worth it. 

He’s quick to type back: Stop.

You elect to ignore his command. Instead, you send him another picture. This one is a nice view of you topless, reclining back on your bed.

That one makes him glance up at you with a sharp warning look. It’s too fast for anyone to catch if they’re not looking directly at him, but, of course, you are looking directly at him. You catch yourself before you start grinning.

He types back: Seriously, cut it out.

You can’t resist ribbing him just a little bit (especially because you usually get what you want when you do, which is Chris fucking you stupid when you get home). You type: Afraid you won’t be able to stand up after the meeting?

Yes. Quit.

You don’t quit. Instead, you send him another picture. This one is a downward shot of your hand in your underwear, fingers clearly caught inside of you. There’s a nice, prominent wet spot on the front of your underwear, and a wonderful top-down view of your tits. (You’re quite proud of that one.)

Chris doesn’t respond this time - doesn’t even look over at you. Instead, he puts his phone face down on the table and reclines back in his seat, thick arms crossing his broad chest. He looks unimpressed by the goings-on of the board meeting - very much like it’s time to wrap it up.

The board members take that as a clue that their golden boy is done listening to them talk.

Once the meeting is adjourned, you gather up your things and head out, Chris falling in step behind you. You fight back a grin, but you can’t help it. You love teasing him - it’s become something of a hobby for you over the past few years.

You’d known Chris since before the BSAA. Quite frankly, you miss the Chris you used to know - the one with the easy smile and cocky attitude and the sweetness behind the tough-guy exterior. (But, of course, you love this Chris - the gruff, seasoned Chris you’d reconnected with, who, yes, still has a little bit of sweetness left in him just for you.)

You place your hand on the doorknob of your office-

“Keep walking,” Chris says low in your ear, just loud enough for you, and only you, to hear.

You keep walking.

Chris’s office is on the other side of the hallway from yours, a little more secluded than the rest. It usually remains fairly untouched but for the occasional maintenance person, as he’s not generally in a position to come in to the office. (And even when he does come into the office, it’s usually late at night so he can write his reports in peace.) 

He stops you at the door and reaches around to open it, ushering you inside. You hear the click of the lock behind you, clear as day.

“You’re in trouble now,” Chris says in little more than a growl. “I told you to cut it out.”

Chris guides you forward with a hand on your back until the fronts of your thighs touch the edge of his desk. He towers over you, dwarfing you by comparison.

“Did you? Must not have gotten that message,” you reply, stifling back a giggle. “How’d you like walking back to your office with that massive boner you’ve got?”

Chris puts his hand on the small of your back and guides you forward until your elbows hit the top of his desk. He braces himself over you, hands on either side of your arms. You can feel him pressed up against your ass (massive is an understatement), hard and insistent. He’d obviously enjoyed your pictures.

“Can’t wait until we get home?” you tease. You, of course, don’t want to wait until you get home. You hope he’s not messing with you, but you’re pretty damn sure he’s not playing around. “Feels like someone really liked those pictures.”

You hear, rather than feel, him unbutton his pants and yank the zipper down.  He reaches around to unbutton your pants and yank them down as well.

“Since you want to be cute,” Chris says, knocking your feet apart with the tip of his boot, “you’re gonna take me right here, just like this.”

He clamps a hand over your mouth, and you huff against his hand. 

“And you’re going to be quiet while I fuck you, yeah?”

You huff again, but it turns quickly into a moan when slides his hand down the front of your underwear, a la the picture you’d sent him, and parts your lips to play with your clit. You twitch, involuntarily pushing back against him, and he grinds himself against your backside. He hasn’t dropped his underwear yet, content to play with you until your legs are trembling.

“I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth,” he warns, “and if you make a sound, I’ll stop and leave you just like this. Nod if you understand.”

You nod.

Chris takes his hand away from your mouth and slides it up your shirt. His hand is warm, fingers calloused, and he makes short work of yanking your bra down without bothering to try to take it off of you. He cups your breast and rolls your nipple between his fingers, pinching and pulling. You grab his arm for leverage, leaning into his touch.

And yet, you don’t make a sound. You know he’s serious when he says he’ll stop and leave you just like this (he’s done it before).

He dips his middle finger into your cunt - you push back on him, silently begging for another. He gives you two fingers, pumping them in and out of you until you’re dripping down his hand. You can hear how wet you are; in the silence of the room, the sound of Chris fingering you combined with Chris’s short pants is deafening.

It’s not until you squeeze his arm and your cunt starts to flutter around his fingers that he stops fingering you, leaving you just short of coming. You drop your forehead against the desk, letting out a long sigh of frustration.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” Chris chuckles. “You’ve got to work for it.”

Chris slides your underwear down and drops his, too. He takes himself in hand, and you feel the blunt tip of his cock press against you. He doesn’t push himself in - he just drags the tip of his cock along your slit until it catches on your clit and back up again. You could cry. You might cry if he doesn’t hurry up. You push back on him, hoping to make him move faster.

“Someone’s greedy,” Chris says, and it occurs to you that you may have fucked up teasing him the way you have. He circles your clit with his fingers, the head of him still pressing right up against your entrance. “You want my cock, princess? I’ll let you talk just this once if you tell me what you want.”

You waist no time telling him what you want.

“Fuck, Chris, please,” you whine, but you have the wherewithal to keep your voice down, “please fuck me.”

“That’ll work,” he chuckles, and pushes himself in.

You sigh with relief, and drop your forehead back onto the desk while Chris bottoms out inside you. He stills so you can adjust to his size - though, to his credit, he did a fantastic job of prepping you - and waits for you to give him the go-ahead. You nod, and he takes that as his cue.

Chris wraps his hand around the underside of your thigh and hikes your knee up onto his desk. You choke at the angle, the feeling of such fullness catching you off guard. He keeps one hand wrapped around your thigh while the other catches you around your waist to keep you steady. He fucks you like he does everything - thoroughly and precisely - filling you up and pulling out, thrusting into you until you’re biting on your own hand to keep from crying out.

He lets go of your waist and braces your chest just under your breasts, guiding you upright so you’re standing with your leg up on his desk, back pressed to his chest. His lips meet your ear, warm and sweet.

“How’s that, sweetheart?” he asks, voice low, making you shiver. “You can talk now, just keep your voice down.”

“Ah - good, so good-”

Christ thrusts up into you, and you drop your head back against his chest. He feels so good pressed up against your back, solid and heavy, enveloping you in his arm. He grabs your chin, turning your head gently towards him so he can kiss you.

“You ready, baby?” Chris asks you. You can feel him grinning against your lips. “Are you close?”

You nod, at this point simply unable to speak. You clench down on him rather involuntarily, but it proves your point. You’re right there on the edge, faster than you would have liked to be, but his fingers had done most of the work to begin with.

“Me, too,” Chris says. 

He guides you back down so you can brace yourself on the desk. He grips your hips, driving into you, all but slamming you back on his cock. He’s not gentle, and you don’t want him to be. He knows well and good what you like and how you want it, and he is more than happy to oblige your preferences.

You can distantly hear yourself panting right alongside Chris. You should probably be a little concerned whether someone outside can hear you, but you’re too far gone to care. If anyone outside can hear you, they can simply mind their own business.

His fingers dig into your thighs as he drives into you, and he pants your name, mindful of the volume. “That’s it, that’s it - you take me so well - so tight-”

Chris presses his fingers to your clit, stroking in tight circles, and you’re done. His cock is heavy and thick between your legs, stretching you and fucking you thoroughly. You all but choke to keep yourself from crying out as you come, biting on your hand to muffle the noise. 

That’s it for Chris, too, and he spills himself inside you when he comes, holding you flush against his pelvis, still wrapped tight around his cock. You sigh, letting out the softest little moan, when he pulls out and zips himself up. He’s going to be dripping out of you until you can get to the bathroom to clean yourself up.

Chris eases you up into a standing position, this time facing him, and gives you a soft kiss on the forehead. “You cannot send me pictures like that in the middle of a meeting again.”

“If you think I’m going to stop sending you pictures in the middle of a meeting after that, you're wrong, darlin’.”

[loen-kennededy]

You called Chris BSAA’s golden boy and Rebecca Dr. High Hopes so any names for Claire, Jill and let’s say Wesker?

Well, I don’t really know Jill and Wesker much, but I call Claire “Red Riding Hood” sometimes or just “Red”.

[euthoriaz]

HEY WHAT'S UP PEOPLE!! So sorry for being kinda inactive within the Cleon/Resident Evil fandom. BUT GUESS WHAT?!

THEY ALL ARE IN 1 MOVIE! And it's like one big reunion😭.

This is not a drill, guys.

I REPEAT. THIS. IS. NOT. A . DRILL.

Fans have been asking for Ada/Carlos/Billy/Sheva/Barry or basically every other RE characters to be in a movie TOGETHER. But this is just the beginning, folks. Let Capcom takes some baby steps cause I can see their effort in trying to hear us. On the other hand, we should be grateful for what we have right now (AKA THIS) rather than nothing at all.

I never once thought that Capcom would do this and making our wish comes true! We've been waiting for a long time. Even YEARS for this😭.

This, folks, in my humble opinion, is what a true fanservice is🥲👍🏻. Good move and marketing from Capcom! They know how to make such a powerful scene and poster to promote this movie!

Don't mind me attaching this again (cause I'm freaking excited😭).

This folks, this poster right here will always be iconic and historical for Resident Evil fans (both new and old generation).

I can't wait to see Leon and Jill interaction!

How do they meet?

Is Chris involved in them meeting each other?

Or is it because of the whole BSAA vs Government sort of thing?

SO MANY QUESTIONS I HAVE AND SO MANY DAMN SCENARIOS ALREADY PLAYING INSIDE MY HEAD JUST BECAUSE OF THAT.

Also, I mean yes I know that Leon and Jill will meet (I was shocked😂) B-BUT CLAIRE???? ESPECIALLY REBECCA?!! THIS IS BOTH OF THEM WE'RE TALKING ABOUT.

ALL. IN. ONE. MOVIE.

WHAT THE HELL IS GONNA HAPPEN IN DEATH ISLAND?

Something serious definitely happens if ALL OF THEM ARE POINTING THEIR GUNS LIKE THAT.

It's mortifying to see them taking action yet wonderful at the same time😂 Whoever the enemy is, they're a complete idiot for not throwing their ass out the second they see them like that💀

Like helloooooo??? Sir, Ma'am, for your informations, we have Chris a.k.a the boulder master, Leon our golden boy with that amazing hair, and I don't think I need to start with the women😂

If anything, HOW DOES EVERYONE MEET AT ONE MOMENT? CAPCOM BETTER PREPARE SOME GOOD STORYLINE RIGHT THERE AND NOT JUAT MAKING THEM MEET COINCIDENTALLY. That'd be weird💀

AND BASED ON THE SCREENSHOT, IT SEEMS LIKE THEY'RE GIVING CLAIRE SOME ACTIONS AND NOT SIDELINING HER!! Yay for this😭

AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST, (the most important part for me and other Cleon shippers😂)

Claire and Leon.

CLAIRE AND LEON.

THIS IS YOUR CHANCE CAPCOM,

YOUR DAMN CHANCE.

DON'T FREAKING RUIN IT😭

To see both Claire and Leon talking to each other or even have moments together will always make me happy. Over the moon precisely.

I-IF WE'RE EVER GONNA HAVE SOME CLEON MOMENTS-

I-MY HEART-😭

WELL WE BETTER BE THO😆. IT'S ABOUT DAMN TIME. I'll cherish their moment, even the slightest bit, seconds by seconds. Hoping that we see both of them getting closer to each other because of the reconciliation😭. Just give me some Cleon moments please Capcom😩

There. I said it.

Thank you for coming to TED talk☺

[charcuteriecrab]

let the rain fall (I don't want you to)

A Resident Evil anon request

This wonderful anon requested Chris and Leon's first kiss, so, of course, I had to do it. This one got a little away from me, but I'm glad I spent as much time on it as I did.

Tags: Chreon, Breakfast, First Kiss, Pre-Relationship, A smidge of angst, but Leon is always like that so, No Beta, 2 OC's just to create a plot, Oh yeah, there's barely any plot, it's just breakfast fluff

Rating: T (to be safe? Leon doesn't have a high opinion of himself. Oh also he swears so)

Word Count: 3275

This takes place in the void after Vendetta but don't ask me when.

Leon loved breakfast. Everyone close to him—not that there were very many—knew this. What most people didn't know was that he had never been asked to get breakfast with anyone before.

Until now, he supposed.

He had just gotten off a mission with none other than Chris Redfield, the BSAA's 'golden boy' as he liked to call him. The man was heavily built, large biceps carried by rock-hard muscle, his body akin to a beautifully carved statue. Leon had planned on sleeping for the next week off in some rundown motel, drinking away his exhaustion, but Chris insisted on taking him out for food the morning after they got back.

The moment the man had said "breakfast", Leon knew he couldn't say no, despite how much he wished to pass out on the shitty motel cot.

Which led him to where he was now, being practically dragged along by Chris down the street, the morning sun dousing the man in an orange glow, his tanned body almost glistening like morning dew. He was wearing a green hawaiian shirt and black cargo pants, contrasting against his own blue jeans and simple t-shirt. Leon had foregone a jacket since it was so warm out that day.

"C'mon Leon, the place is just around the corner."

Leon groaned, forcing his feet to walk a little faster to reduce the pressure on his shoulder. The man's grip on his hand wasn't painful, but every place their skin touched sent electricity to his brain, nerves flaring.

Leon had had a crush on the elder Redfield for years at this point, but never felt confident enough to tell him. Not to mention he thought the man was as straight as you could be. Claire never mentioned him being with another man, not that he had talked with her in a while, he supposed. Maybe he should give her a call later, maybe ask her about Chris if he had the courage.

"Where are we going again?" he groaned.

"You said you wanted breakfast, right?" Chris said, slowing for a moment to look back at Leon, his eyes warm and soft and Leon's knees almost buckled at the sight. "You're going to have to trust me with this one."

Trust. Sure, why the hell not? Leon found himself smiling despite the shake in his hands and nodded dumbly. Every moment he stood in Chris's presence sent his heart pumping wildly and he hoped that the man couldn't feel his racing pulse in his palm.

Leon walked a little bit faster, some of his fatigue washing away as anticipation settled in his chest. He was no longer being dragged, but Chris still held onto his hand. He tried not to jump to conclusions—this was a friendly outing after a mission. Chris didn't like him. There was no way. Leon was too prickly to let anyone get close, much less entertain the thought of romance.

Fuck, maybe this wasn't a good idea.

Just as he thought about attempting to slip away, Chris stopped walking and stood, bringing Leon to his side, an arm wrapped around his shoulder. "This is it!" he exclaimed, smiling. 

Leon looked up at the building, trying to ignore how close he was to Chris's chest. It was a small cafe, large windows making up the majority of the front wall; if he squinted, he could see a few people at booths, eating and talking to one another. He could smell the strong scent of coffee from the outside and he found his mouth watering already.

Leon shook his head slightly, turning to the man at his side. "What is this place?"

"I found this little cafe a few years ago by accident, stumbled in after a long mission and nearly passed out. The owners saw me, probably a little peeved, and gave me a cup of coffee on the house." Chris laughed. "From then on I always try to stop by for a meal if I'm in the area."

The mental image of a sleepy Chris stumbling into a sweet little cafe like this made warmth spread through his chest for reasons he couldn't explain.

"That sounds really nice."

Chris chuckled, "You have no idea. C'mon, I'll introduce you."

Leon found himself once again being dragged along, but this time he didn't try to stop it. The door opened and a small bell rang out from above the hinge, the men stepping inside. The smell of coffee was much stronger inside and he could hear the sizzling of eggs and bacon. Looking around, he was surprised to see how open it felt despite being a small establishment. There were a couple of round tables surrounded by wooden chairs with floral cushions and cyan booths lining the walls. Tall palms towered in each corner and various succulents dotted the shelves next to black and white pictures, the frames old and weathered. A few people were eating, but none of them paid any mind. 

Chris led him to the back where there was a counter and an old register, manned by a short, aged woman, wrinkles crinkling the corners of her eyes. She smiled at them sweetly, lightening up when she saw Chris.

"Chris Redfield! Oh how nice it is to see you, my boy," she gushed, moving out from behind the counter to hug the man. Leon stood off to the side, awkwardly. "I see you brought a friend with you!"

Leon smiled slightly, a little uncomfortable, but gave a wave to be nice. 

Chris pulled away from the woman, turning to Leon. "This is Mrs. Canta, and her husband Mr. Canta in the kitchen."

As he said that, an elderly man, presumably Mr. Canta, stepped out of the kitchen, spindly white hair and a hair net doing nothing to cover his sunburnt scalp. "I recognize that voice, is that you, Chris?" He squinted, glasses slightly askew.

Mrs. Canta spoke up, "Yes, it is dear! And he has company this time."

"This is Leon, I promised him breakfast and I knew I had to take him here. Best breakfast joint I know."

"Oh, Chris don't joke," she chuckled.

"You know I'm not."

The woman shook her head fondly. "Take a seat and I will come over with some menus for you boys."

Chris nodded, still smiling, before looking at Leon and gesturing at a booth in the corner as if asking. Leon shrugged, nodding. He didn't care where they sat. He just wanted some food. His stomach growled at the thought and he hoped Chris couldn't hear it.

They sat down across from each other and Leon tried to relax. The cafe was nice and quiet and it was secluded from the main roads, traffic slow and far between. He appreciated that, preferring a less chaotic area. Now that he was forced to face Chris, he nearly blushed, noticing that the man was looking at him already smiling that smile he always sent his way. It was something uniquely Chris and it sent butterflies through his stomach. No, no. He wouldn’t allow himself to hope.

"You ready for the best breakfast of your life?"

Leon smirked, raising his eyebrows. "That's high praise, Redfield. I have been to plenty of good breakfast places."

Chris laughed heartily and Leon thought it was like music to his ears. "You won't be disappointed."

"I'll hold you to that."

Mrs. Canta stepped up to their table, still shorter than them when they were sitting, and placed two menus as well as some napkin-wrapped silverware. She asked what they wanted to drink and Chris ordered an orange juice. Leon ordered the same but also got a coffee. 

When the woman stepped away, Leon smirked at Chris. "So the renowned BSAA captain likes orange juice?"

"It's the superior juice, Leon, also you ordered it too." He gestured to him.

"I never said it wasn't good." Leon would have ordered alcohol if he could but they didn't serve it. Orange juice would have to do for now. Resisting the urge to sigh, he changed the topic. "So how's Claire doing?"

"Good. Doing what she always does, trying to save her corner of the world."

Leon chuckled. "Of course she is." He thought about their conversation after the fiasco with the previous Defense Secretary Wilson and Penamstam and felt a stab of guilt. He didn't mean to hurt her like that but knew going public with that information would have done more harm than good.

"Do you guys talk?"

"...Not as much anymore. I was actually planning on calling her at some point today or tomorrow." He turned his attention to the menu, avoiding Chris's gaze. They had a semi-small selection, but everything they had sounded pretty good. They even had waffles.

Chris also looked over his menu, not seeming to pay that close attention. Maybe he already knew what he was getting since he had been there before. "That sounds great, I'm sure she would appreciate that."

Leon wasn't so sure, but he would do it regardless.

Mrs. Canta came by again, their drinks in tow. The glasses clinked against the aged wooden table, orange juice bright orange and pulpy. The color reminded him of the sunrise from earlier, although the sun was well above the horizon at this point, the light streaming through the windows slightly less bright than before. He could see a few people walking down the sidewalk.

"What can I get you boys this morning?"

Chris spoke up first. "I would like the triple stack chocolate chip pancakes with a side of bacon, please."

The woman nodded, smiling, then turned to Leon expectantly.

"I would like the toast and eggs, sunny side up with bacon and sausages."

She nodded again. "Alrighty, anything else for you two?"

"No, I think we're good, thanks," Chris smiled.

The conversation continued slowly, the two talking about the mission, about embarrassing things they knew about Claire, and about each other. Ever since New York, Leon wanted to spend more time with Chris but never knew how to approach him. He hadn't had the opportunity to have an actual conversation outside of whatever mission they were on and he was greatly enjoying it. He didn’t get the chance to hang out with friends often, and he had an even harder time making frends to begin with. A lot of people thought he was mean and unlikable, some called him annoying. 

Sometimes it was just easier to act cold.

Their food came and Leon practically devoured his, Chris following suit. The man’s pancakes were plate-sized and fluffy, covered in whipped cream, strawberries, and maple syrup. His bacon was crispy, almost too crispy for Leon’s taste, the pieces crumbling in the man’s hand. Leon’s breakfast spread came, one barely-cooked egg laying on top of two crispy pieces of toast, the yolk, seasoned with salt and pepper sliding across the whites. His bacon was cooked to perfection, slightly chewy but not overcooked enough to melt in your mouth immediately like Chris’s and the sausage was fried deliciously as well. They both focused on their food, not speaking much until they were both finished.

He had to give it to Chris, this breakfast was some of the best food he had ever had.

The sunlight began to fade away as they ate, the sky clouding and casting a shadow over the earth. Leon didn’t mind it too much. The cafe was just as warm and comfortable regardless of the weather outside. A pitterpatter of rain began to fall, splattering on the window, the water streaming down the glass until it pooled at the bottom. Leon sucked in a deep, relaxing breath, watching Chris over his coffee. The man was finishing up the last bit on pancake, scooping up as much of the leftover toppings as possible, shoving the fork into his mouth. Leon would have normally thought it disgusting, but instead he found it adorable.

Once Chris leaned back with a sigh, Leon put his mug down, the glass clinking against the table. “You ready to go?” He figured Chris wanted to go do something else now that they were finished. He was sure there were other people he wanted to talk to before their small reprieve was done.

The man looked at him, a flicker of an emotion he couldn’t discern on his face for a moment before being replaced by a soft smile. “I’m ready if you are.”

Leon nodded, pushing himself out of the booth and to his feet, watching Chris struggle to get out due to his larger than average body. He nearly laughed, but caught himself. He waited off to the side while Chris paid, giving Mrs. Canta a hug and sharing a few words he couldn’t hear before coming back to Leon. They shared a look before heading out the door.

The rain was more of a sprinkle than a pour, but they were going to get soaked if they stayed out for too long. “Did you still want to walk?” he asked, scowling up at the sky before wiping his face in annoyance.

Chris hummed, crossing his arms. “It’s not too bad right now, we could walk to my place if you wanted.”

Chris’s place? He was inviting him to his home? Leon felt like he should decline, but then the man held out his hand and he found he couldn’t say no, just like before. He needed to get his feelings under control before he got hurt. It was only polite to help someone get out of the rain. “If you don’t mind, otherwise I can wait for a cab and go back to the motel.”

“Nonsense. You could be waiting awhile, and besides, I still wanted to hang out if you were okay with it.”

Leon froze, not really sure what to say, so he eventually said, “Okay,” and grabbed onto his extended hand. Fuck.

Somehow, Chris’s smile widened further and he squeezed Leon’s fingers once before dragging him across the street. He held his breath and forced himself to keep walking forward. Once they crossed, the man let go, and he felt like he could breath again. The rain fell on Leon’s long locks—he needed a fucking haircut—and streamed into his eyes. He shook his head before pushing his bangs back away from his face. He wasn’t a huge fan of the rain. Between Raccoon City, Spain, and his general poor circulation, he had more than one reason to hate it, but he found it wasn’t too bad if he got to spend the time with Chris, surprisingly. 

Looking over, he realized that the man was thoroughly soaked, water dripping from his shirt and fingers to the ground, his hawaiian shirt tight to his skin and exposing every curve of his muscles. Leon let him lead, since he couldn’t remember where exactly his apartment was, but he was having a hard time not checking him out. Chris deserved more respect than that. He shook his head again, but this time it wasn’t because of the rain.

“We’re friends, aren’t we, Leon?” Chris suddenly said, not stopping.

The question threw him off and he didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Yeah, I think so.” Chris was one of his favorite people, but telling him that would probably scare him off. The man was so selfless, so determined to save people and never leave a man behind. No matter how many people he lost, he never gave up. Leon envied him for that. Every time he lost someone, he fell deeper and deeper into despair. If he was honest with himself, he was scared to lose another person. Who would it be next time? Claire? Chris? 

He would never forgive himself.

“Then why do you avoid me?”

Leon stopped, and Chris did too, turning around, frowning. He opened his mouth—

“Don’t say it’s because you’re busy. You and I both know that’s a lie.”

Fuck. 

“I don’t-” he started, looking away. “I don’t know.” What was he supposed to say? That he was intentionally ignoring the man’s calls? Rejecting every invitation because he was scared?

In an instant, Chris was in front of him and Leon forced himself to look at the man, blinking away the rain. He wanted to take a step back, to run away back to the motel like a coward, but he was frozen in place, holding his breath. 

“You’re my friend, I want to hang out with you more, get to know you.”

“No you don’t,” he growled. Chris didn’t know what he was talking about. 

“Yes, I do.”

“No,” he snarled, “you don’t. I’m not worth it.”

“Let me make that decision for myself.”

Leon stepped forward, getting in Chris’s face, emotion twisting in his chest. He was done beating around the bush. “All I cause is pain and loss on those around me. Everyone dies, Chris. I’m a curse.” 

There was a long moment of silence, and Leon deflated, his forehead falling against Chris’s chest, the sound of the rain the only thing he could hear over the roaring in his head. “I don’t want you to get caught in it,” he murmured. Rainwater streamed into his eyes and he scrunched them shut.

A hand on his cheek gently lifted his head up and Leon opened his eyes quickly, breath catching. Chris looked down at him with such sadness it sent guilt stabbing through his lungs. “And what if I you’re wrong?” he said softly, brushing some of the rain off Leon’s face with his thumb. The touch felt like fire against his skin.

Leon didn’t know what to say, so he kept his mouth shut, trying to calm his racing heart.

“What if I want to get to know you regardless? What if I want to hang out more, what if I don’t care if you’re a curse or not?”

The distant sound of thunder rolled over them and Leon shivered, not entirely due to the cold. Their faces came closer and Leon could feel the man’s breath on his face, warm in the chilled air. Leon breathed through his mouth, lips parted slightly. In an instant, they came together, Chris’s mouth on his, lips pressed together, and Leon groaned as the man’s hands found their way into his wet hair, gripping enough to cause pressure but not pain. This kiss only lasted a moment, but it left them both panting, holding onto each other as if their lives depended on it.

Chris was the one to break the silence. “Still up for coming over?”

Leon wanted to laugh in his face, but instead he smirked, looking up at him with affection he didn’t have the energy to mask. “You’d have a hard time keeping me away now.”

Chris smiled, this time flushed, face red. “C’mon, let’s get out of the rain,” he said, pulling away slightly. “We can talk about this,” he gestured to them both, “when we get home.”

Leon nodded, extending his hand in invitation this time, and Chris took it without hesitation, smiling wider. “Only if you promise we get breakfast tomorrow.”

“Are you admitting it was the best breakfast you ever had?”

“I never rate a place on first impressions.”

Chris laughed. “Then I guess we will have to pay Mrs. and Mr. Canta another visit.”

They walked along the sidewalk, the rain letting up a little, sunshine peeking through the clouds. And this time Leon and Chris held hands the whole way, side by side until they reached Chris’s apartment. They would have to talk about what their relationship was turning into, but for now, they relished in each other’s company, finally content.

[youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms]

Cross-legged In The Dim Light They Say, "What A Sad Sight,"

Words: 1084

Warnings: language, regret, Chris being a dick lowk, insecurities, maybe ooc Chris and probably bad writing

Resident Evil Masterlist Main Masterlist Join My Taglist

Chris is PROBABLY OOC (as I suck at not being able to keep them from being OOC)

Was nearly named "Does Your Husband Know The Way That The Sunshine Gleams From Your Wedding Band?"

Chris and Reader have been together since like 2003, married since 2005 (so obv 2010)

Not Proof-read and I think it can be seen every once and a while (I know you can see where my brain couldn't function how to write the scene so I just guessed and hoped for the best)

Loosely has themes from the songs "right where you left me" by Taylor Swift, "Headfirst Slide into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet" by Fall Out Boy

Anywho, enjoy

Love Z <3

She sat at the table, waiting for him to show. She had been there for an hour already. He was late. Again. Of course, she knew that she shouldn't have gotten her hopes up. Afterall, it was Chris. And with Chris work always came first. Even over his relationships.

Even if it was his 5 year wedding anniversary. Even if he had promised to show. Promised that he wouldn't flake. He always did.

Work always came before anything.

She sighed, she knew what the people around her were thinking. What the workers were saying when they knew she wouldn't be able to hear. This wasn't the first time he had flaked at this restaurant. Leaving her stranded and by herself.

She looked down at her wedding band, noticing the way that it reflected in the lighting. She ran a hand through her hair before looking at her phone, seeing if there was any update from him or someone else at the BSAA. But there was nothing but radio silence. Her previous texts continue to be unanswered.

"Are you ready to order, miss?"

She gave a tightlipped smile to the server, "Just give me a few minutes. I'm waiting for my husband to show."

"Very well, I'll come back in a few minutes to see if he's shown."

Y/N nodded, she could sense the pity that was laced in the server's voice. She did nothing as she watched them walk away. God, she felt so pathetic. It was ridiculous to think he'd show. They got Jill back a year ago and he was so involved in making sure she was healing properly. Caused him to miss all kinds of dates.

Her birthday, Claire's birthday, Christmas, their anniversary last year, and now their anniversary this year! All things that he never missed before. She watched as time passed on her small watch. Watched as he still didn't show.

So when the server came back, Y/N gave them a small smile before asking for something to go. That she guessed something tied him up so she'll just take it home to him. They nodded and took her order.

God, she just felt even more pathetic.

She just wanted to go home and go to sleep at this point. Go home and forget this entire night. Forget and pretend she never heard the workers whisper about what a sad sight this was. She just wanted to go home and pray that her husband had been called away and he was unable to tell her.

--------

She silently opened the door to her their place. She was mentally tired. All that she wanted to do was curl up and cry. She felt pathetic. But why wouldn’t she? Chris bailed. No text. No call. No warning.

He did what he always did when work called.

But she knew that she couldn’t be angry. She never could be. Not at him. She knew he really had no choice. He was their golden boy. They needed him. Needed him more than they needed her. She sighed as she placed the bag of food on the table. It was ridiculous. Truly it was. 

She silently walked back to the bedroom, wanting to get out of these clothes that felt like they were constricting her. She felt ridiculous. Ridiculous for thinking he would be able to make it. For even agreeing to his plan. Her hands had a small shake to them as she unzipped the back of the dress. She wondered why she even bothered anymore. Why she ever believed that he would be there. 

She carefully removed her undergarments, not wanting to toss them in the bin, she left them with the dress on a pile on the floor before grabbing pajamas to change into. Once the clothes were over her body, she carefully removed all of her jewelry, ignoring the jingling keys and the click of the front door unlocking again. She just wanted to get some sleep at this point. Forget this night ever happened. 

When she reached her wedding ring, she stared at it. Did he even love her anymore? Everything felt like a never ending battle for him to remember she was there. That she was right there. She shook her head as she removed the ring. She didn’t want to think about that. 

“Y/N?” She glanced over to his body in the doorway, “What’re you just now getting undressed for? It’s nearly 11 at night. You’re usually in bed by now when you’re off.” He came over to wrap his arms around her waist, but she pushed him off her. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, “Nothin’.”

“That’s a lie darling.” He reached out to her, “What’s wrong?”

She ignored his question as she walked into the bathroom. “There’s food from Jerry’s on the table.”

“Yeah. I saw. Why’d you go there for food?”

She tossed a washcloth in the sink and turned the water on. “We had a reservation for 8, remember?”

She heard the sharp intake of air he took when the words left her mouth. “Fuck.” The sound of his feet were heard as he walked in the bathroom. She saw the look of guilt over his face when she saw his reflection in the mirror. “Was that today?” She could hear in his voice that he already knew the answer.

So she gave a simple nod. “But it’s fine. Used to it by now. Tipped the server really good for having to put up with me waiting for so long.”

“I’m so sorry, I totally forgot we had a date planned for tonight.”

She shrugged, “Don’ care.” She grabbed her bottle of sleeping pills and popped one into her mouth before swallowing it. “Just wanna know if you even know why we had it.” When he stayed silent, she pushed past him and to the bed, collapsing onto it as she already felt the sleep taking over her. She yawned, “5 years strong now.” She grabbed her pillow and held it, just like she had done many nights when she was alone. “But I get it, work is important. I’ll let you finish whatever paperwork you have. See you in the morning.”

“Y/N--” He had started, but he knew it was too late. Sleep had already overtaken her body. He mentally cursed at himself as he looked up at the ceiling. How could he have been so stupid and forgotten?

What could he do to get her to forgive him?

[blueysobssesions]

Vendetta!Leon Kennedy x Reader (Angst)

Reader dies on part 2 or 3

"Finally, we got a vacation..." Leon sighed, grabbing the bottle of alcohol almost empty for how much Leon was drinking... Surprisingly, he can control it?. He filled up his glass with alcohol and drank it. "Someone's happy" you giggled. You were happy that the both of you finally got a vacation after so many horrible things happened. But, you were worried about Leon... Is drinking alcohol all he does whenever he has a free time? Yes you know he can control on how he can get drunk but still! That's not right. "I'm happy the both of us got a vacation but, it  doesn't mean you can drink almost an hour?" you were worried for him. Leon lets out a chuckle, he finds it cute when your always worried about him. "Just one last drink, I promise. We can go on a date after this, how's that sound?" winking at you making you laugh. His flirtatious antics... gosh, it always makes you all flustered easily "Promise me that, won't you?" you said "Of course, I-" he was interrupted when the door of the bar suddenly opened, the both of you can hear footsteps and then stopped "Careful, you don't want to scare the locals" Leon said, he didn't have the intention to look behind him. "Chris?" you stand up from your seat seeing Chris with Rebecca "Rebecca? What are you doing here?" Chris only smiled at you and then looked at Leon. You have the feeling that something... something will interrupt the both of yours vacation sadly "It's a little early to be that deep in the bottle Leon" Leon let out a chuckle hearing Chris, turning around "Well look who it is! The BSAA'S Golden Boy and Doctor High hopes! . . . The hell do you want?" "Leon..." you said softly"It's better for you Y/n to stay out of this" Chris suggested, 'Stay out of this?' you been though a lot too! Don't act like I didn't Chris!. You sighed and just sat on the chair and wait for what shit is going to happen. "I got a job and we need you both to help us" andd there it is. What even is Vacation? Rest? Never heard of it "Chris... Me and Leon are currently on a Vacation... And it's quite rude to interrupt it

" you said "I'm sorry for the both of you ruining your Vacation but this is serious" Rebecca was now the one who spoke. You sighed again "Don't worry Y/n, I still promised that date" Leon said looking at you hoping he would make you a bit more less worried "Let's talk about Los Illuminados" Rebecca said walking towards the counter, placing a suitcase and took a seat besides you. "Remember the type of BOW'S they were using?" she asked Leon "It's so long ago I don't even remember" Leon said "Y/n?" you shook your head "Nope, if I did I would already spill it out" you then heard Chris's footsteps going besides Leon who is still holding an empty glass "So what? Your just going to sit around here another week and do nothing?" Leon chuckled "Really? your only thinking about that I'm always in a bar drinking? I do some shit too Chris" he growled. "Hey! Another bottle here!" Leon waved at the female waiter but Chris wasn't having it "Cancel that" "Hey, who the hell-" "ENOUGH LEON!" Chris shouted slamming the table. Leon didn't even flinch when he did that. You were about to stand up but Rebecca placed her hand on your shoulder "It's okay Y/n..." she said, looking at her seeing her smile. So, you sat back to your seat. "What do you want, Redfield?" "What do you want Leon?" this is making you stressed out. This wasn't suppose to be happening on your vacation! The two of you were supposed to be enjoying the vacation. The both of you wanted to stay away from what's happening but of course BSAA needed a help. You then saw Leon taking out a pocket wine? 'You gotta be kidding me Leon...' he then opened the cap and was about to drink it but Chris grabbed his arm "Cut the shit, Leon" Leon moved his arm away from his grasp "Guys, come on... Were sorry to interrupt the vacation for the both of you but, we wouldn't be here if it wasn't serious. We think you might have intel and we need it. Now" Rebecca explained. Leon looked at you, your head looking down not talking. You weren't talking that much and you don't want to neither Leon. Leon sighed "What Intel?"

Part 2 will be posted soon because I'm currently not on my free time.

[cremationstayshun]

Kiss with a Fist - Chreon

Summary: If one thing was certain, is that Leon S. Kennedy knows how to push buttons. Something from the beautiful man that was Chris Redfield was better than nothing, right?

Right?

Trigger Warnings: Implied sexual assault/rape

AO3

Leon sneered at the lone double bed in the hotel room. He could hear his roommate for the night lumbering in behind him.

"Well at least it's a king," Chris shrugged trying to maintain neutrality with the prickly DSO agent standing next to him. He received a scathing look as a reward for his efforts. Chris took a deep breath to simmer down his exasperation. Their flight back was delayed due to a blizzard, which was currently screaming at the windows outside. While the sleeping situation was not ideal, it was better than staying the night at the airport. As much as he tried to remain civil and gain favor with Leon, the man seemed to push back harder and harder. He looked back to the man who was eyeing up the couch against the opposite wall, his face barely giving anything away. It was enough for Chris to know what he was thinking.

"Oh, come on, are you serious?"

Sharp, blue eyes cut over to him, "what?"

"Why are you so dramatic? We can just share the bed, Kennedy."

Leon did not answer right away, but the pause was barely noticeable. A crease formed between his brows in thought and his eyes darted across the other's face before his face hardened. A vicious smirk fell over his face, instantly setting Chris on edge. He practically sauntered across the room, reminding the BSAA captain of a predator. He came up to where Chris had moved closer to the bed and met the larger man's eyes defiantly. Chris shifted quickly into defensive. He was not about to put up with the DSO agent's shit.

"You that desperate, Redfield? Valentine isn't around, so you gotta shoot your shot at the nearest warm body?"

"The fuck? That's not what I am asking for and you know it. You're so fucking difficult."

"Yeah unlike you. Evidently, it's easy to get in the pants of the great BSAA Golden Boy."

"Better than being the bitch of the DSO who crawls around for any scraps that they throw your way!" Chris' voice has risen in volume at this point, and he was chest to chest with Leon and he felt a prickling in his face as his anger grew. The little fucker remained perfectly calm with his stupid perfect hair and that just pissed Chris off more.

The calm was downright eerie when Kennedy responded, "Yeah, they fucked everything out of me like a cheap whore to keep her safe, and I let them. But at least I was able to protect her because I wasn't hung up on my boss betraying me instead of fucking me."

CRACK

Leon felt the impact but could not register the pain as he was losing his balance. The backhand sent his body into a spiral and he would blame it on exhaustion that Chris actually got a hit on him. His ribs which were bruised from their mission slammed into the arm of the couch which was barely padded. He could definitely feel the sharp edge of its frame jam into his tender flesh. He was thankful that he kept himself from making a sound. It took him a moment to breathe through the pain and when he finally looked back up Chris was hovering over him, hands up and not touching him, and his face pinched in guilt and worry. He opened his mouth, probably about to apologize or ask what he needed or some other dumb caring thing that will just make Leon love the man more. He could not let that happen when he was already so vulnerable. He easily cut the other off, still keeping his cocky persona, "That all you got? I've been hit harder while getting railed on some nice fat cock."

It’s like your pretty boy face was made to be bruised, kid. 

The man cycled through many emotions which were etched clearly in his expressions. Shock, confusion, a strange grimace that Leon couldn't read, and then a grim determination that almost made the smaller man regret his words. Chris pulled him up easily by the front of his shirt. Grip so tight, that Leon can hear the fabric creaking in strain. His eyes burned with a frightening determination. His gaze flicked down to Leon's mouth, but he made no move to press his own against them. He took his other hand and shoved three thick fingers past those slightly parted lips and down his throat, making the DSO agent gag and moan around them. Fuck. Yes. His tongue quickly worked against the digits, trying desperately to memorize Chris' flavour since this will likely be his only chance with how furious the man seemed. His breath was being cut off in a delightful way and he decided then that he would take whatever he got tonight.

"You're right about one thing at least. You really are a cheap whore huh?" He pulled his fingers out of Leon's throat. He coughed and gasped for air, his legs shaking with arousal and something he couldn't quite explain. Drool dripped down his chin but that was the last thing on his mind as he looked up at Chris through hazy vision. The other man looked harsh, cold in a way he had never seen before. Leon's entire body trembled, help up only by the hand gripping his shirt. Leon was struggling with catching his breath, but Chris didn't seem to care, "absolutely pathetic. The great Leon S. Kennedy is such a slut that it just takes the promise of cock to make him listen."

Leon's world tipped off balance as Chris shoved him onto the bed, his back hitting the soft mattress. The plushness off it was a pleasant surprise but he did not have enough time to think about it as Chris' voice sliced through his thoughts.

"Strip."

Leon stared up at the other man for a moment, absently not believing this was happening. Chris, however, was out of patience, "Strip or I'll cut them off."

You’ll do anything to be stuffed full on a nice dick.

The threat was very serious from what Leon could tell. He scrambled up onto his knees and started undoing the buttons of his shirt. Apparently, the man was really fed up. As soon as the buttons were undone, he yanked the material down to Leon's wrists and deftly twisted it so that the man was trapped. He could easily get out if he tried but before he could he was pulled down the bed with the force of the tugs on his pants and boxers. He was quickly exposed to chilled air drafting from the windows. He wasn't sure if it was that or Chris fully clothed and towering over him that caused shivers to wrack through his body. He figured he probably went from predator to prey for the other man, his eyes wide and anxiety forming deep in his gut. It was quickly forgotten, though, as he was flipped onto him stomach and his ass pulled into to air. He tugged at the shirt tangled around his wrists. Leon managed to free then but not without leaving friction burns behind.

"Spread your legs." The command was simple, and Leon could not do anything but obey. Apparently, it wasn't good enough and Chris took a moment to jerk Leon's legs further apart, forcing him to bow his back unnaturally. He knew Chris was still fully clothed and that did so much to make Leon feel even more vulnerable beneath him. A large hand grabbed one cheek and spread it to expose the tight pink hole there. The feeling of cold air sending another shiver through his body. He had to force himself to remember that this was the only way Chris would touch him. He gasped as a dry thumb pushed against the tight ring of muscle, forcing it open. The dry pull of it thrusting in and out soon followed and Leon had to clench his jaw to hold in the sounds that wanted to pour out. He realized he was painfully hard which caused his face to redden. The flow of blood warring between flowing north and south made him dizzy. He felt like everything was swaying around him, adrift at sea and lost in the own torrent of his mind. The sharp pain of Chris' other thumb pushing into him was like the beam from a distant lighthouse.

You’ll spread your legs for anyone, won’t cha?

"If I didn’t already know how much of a slut you are, I do now that I see how loose your cunt is."

Leon could barely believe the words coming out of Redfield's mouth. They were filthy and caused the thump of his heart to be deafening. Leon hadn't had sex since-- well it's been a long time. Either way the words still made feel cheap and dirty, but the arousal was undeniable. In his embarrassment there was no words that he could say to fight back.

"Bet a whore like you doesn't even need lube."

He didn't take the words seriously until he felt Chris lean forward and spit harshly onto his spread hole. He wanted to cry but would not allow himself. As much as he did like it rough at times, this is not what his first time with Chris was like in any of his fantasies. This Chris was someone that he had only seen directed at his most heinous enemies. He was ripped out of thoughts when the larger man pulled his thumbs from his hole and quickly replaced them with three thick fingers. It was all too much at once and the sound that tore from his throat was a strange mix of a moan and sob. He rested his cheek on the bed and breathed raggedly through the painful stretch, pleasure still burning through his veins despite everything. He was given a few rough thrusts that provided no pleasure before they were yanked out.

Tense silence pervaded the room only disrupted by Leon’s ragged breath and the jingle of a belt being unbuckled. Leon could barely move except a slight adjustment to be able to watch Chris over his shoulder, sure the other man could see how much of a mess he was. The larger man’s eyes were impossibly dark, and lust was clear even through harsh downturn of both his brows and lips. The anger was clearly visible. Leon swallowed even though his mouth and throat had long gone dry.

C’mon comrade, I know a slut like you can take it. Don’t you disappoint me, now. 

"Fuck, Kennedy," the words were punched out between thrusts and clenched teeth, the man below him practically sobbing into his arm. Leon felt like he had lost time somewhere, but it was hard to tell with the miasma that was his psyche. His heaving chest was pressed into the bed and hips held in the air by a bruising grip. He was tight, not prepared nearly enough before he has speared on the obscenely large cock of one Chris Redfield. He practically wailed when a large hand came down on his ass.

"You just can't shut the fuck up, can you?"

The words pierced through his haze and doused him in shame.

"Such a whore. Bet you'd let anyone fuck you," Another harsh slap. He had stopped thrusting at the bruising intensity as he leaned down and pushed his mouth near Leon's ear, "You get passed around the office as a cocksleeve? I bet the reason you won't shut that slutty mouth is cause you need a dick down your throat to satisfy you."

I always knew you were mouthy. How ‘bout I teach you how to use it?

Cold was creeping through Leon, taking over the pleasured delirium he was previously in. Chris' comforting warmth, despite the previous harsh treatment, (and really that was Leon's fault anyway) was replaced with a familiar and oppressive weight of a body on top of him, taking what it wants. He wanted it to stop. His throat had closed, and it felt like his jaw was wired shut. He couldn't get a sound out. What had felt so euphoric moments ago speeding towards nightmarish. His chest was tight. He couldn't breathe. Was he even breathing? A hand on the space between his head and neck pushed him deeper into the bed and terror alike. He couldn't even fight back. This is what he had wanted wasn't it? He decided to piss Chris off and goad him into sex. Of course, the man would be rough. He hated Leon and he wanted the mouthy agent just to shut the fuck up.

When Leon tried to speak, all he could get out was a thready and pathetic whimper. He felt so small and weak with spots dancing in front of his eyes. He still couldn't tell if he was breathing, focus having closed in to racing thoughts and flashing memories. Rough, battle worn hands, a gun pressed to the back of his head then those hands around his throat pushing him down, a cold gravelly voice in his ear.

That's it comrade. You're so loose, you fuckin’ cocksleeve.

"Leon?"

Chris had been working up into a good rhythm, enjoying watching the gorgeous agent beneath him squirm on his cock. He never thought he would have a day when he would be able to fall into bed with Leon S. Kennedy of all people. Well, it was more like he had pushed the man, but it seemed that he liked it rough and mean and Chris was trying his best to do that for him. His concentration was broken by a small sound from below him. It sounded different from his previous noises, without a hint of pleasure. It was like ice went through his veins as he looked at his bedpartner.

Leon was barely moving. He was practically panting, and his breath wheezed out of him harshly. His eyes were distant and unfocused with tears flowing freely down his cheeks. Blood oozed from his lip where he seemed to have bitten it at one point. Chris instantly loosened his grip on the back of Leon’s head as his protective instincts took over. This clearly was not right to him. Even if he had never been with Leon in such an intimate way before, it felt off. He pulled out from the man, dick already softening as his panic overtook him. When he released Leon’s hip he fell limply against the bed. It reminded Chris sickeningly of a marionette with its strings cut.

“Leon?” He crawled up the bed to lean over the man. He did not seem to notice Chris. He tried calling his name again, but there was no response. He lifted his hand to place it on Leon’s shoulder, and before he could the man flinched violently, another small whimper whistling from his throat. His gaze locked on the larger man’s form. Chris still was not sure that Leon was completely seeing him. He reached out again, this time carefully telegraphing his movements. He could tell that the other was tracking his movements sluggishly with his eyes, but the flinch when Chris made contact was much more subtle.

He just rested his hand on Leon’s shoulder and let the man work through his panic with silent support. It took a painfully long time for the smaller man’s breathing to slow to a even a marginally reasonable pace. Chris didn’t think he was fully back to the present, but the panic seemed to dull enough for him to be comfortable with bundling Leon against him. He ripped the blanket from where it was tucked into the bed as an afterthought and wrapped it around both of them. Leon hadn’t lashed out or freak out more, which Chris decided to take as a good sign. He settled in to wait for Leon to come back to reality, the silence leaving space for an unbearable guilt.

[snailvee]

we need to talk about chris's disregard for authority more. bro is not the bsaa's golden boy he never trusted them this is the mf that got kicked out of the military

[sapphire-weapon]

This may be a dumb question but what are your thoughts on Leon and pet names? Cause boy do many fics have him use so, so many. But he seems to like using peoples names? Like when I think about him talking to the various women he interacts with I can only think of when he calls them by name. The only time I can think of is when he calls Ashley sweetheart in og4 and doctor high hopes is him being a bitch. Granted I could be forgetting something.

There's also this moment in RE4make.

But I think it comes from a few different places.

Foremost is probably the fact that a lot of nicknames -- not necessarily pet names -- get thrown around when it comes to Leon in general. Way moreso than any other RE character.

Like, Billy calls Rebecca "dollface" in RE0. Jill has "the master of unlocking." Chris gets called a "boulder-punching asshole." But like. Those are all really isolated incidents.

Leon has the whole "comrade/rookie" thing going on with Krauser. Luis calls him "cowboy" in both versions of RE4, and Remake has him constantly calling him "Sancho." Ada calls him "handsome" in both versions. OG RE4 has Saddler call him "The American Pig." In Damnation, he's referred to by several characters as just "The American."

There's also the whole "knight and the princess" thing that Salazar does in RE4make.

Leon also calls people names when he's trying to be a smartass. There's the whole "The BSAA's Golden Boy and Dr. High Hopes" thing but like. He calls Salazar "old man." There's the whole "Right Hand" thing re: Verdugo. He deadass calls Mr. X "Trenchy" in DSC like 4 different times and I swear to god I still have PTSD from it and, for a while, it was the only thing about DSC I even remembered.

RE4make and Damnation both have him using official codenames for people, as well.

He's also prone to mean-spirited name-calling because he's a fucking child. (Calling Saddler a bastard in RE4make, etc.)

And he's a big softie who, in RE4make, calls the dog "buddy" and "bud."

So, there's that.

I also think that Leon calling Ashley "Sweetheart" in OG really left an impression on a lot of people, because he meant it genuinely/endearingly/was not trying to be an asshole about it, and, to my knowledge, it's the only time in the entire series that any character calls any other character a pet name like that without it being sarcastic (see: Billy's "dollface").

He also says it really, really casually -- like, it just comes out almost by accident -- like, it's what he would've defaulted to calling her if they hadn't been on an official mission together, but they were, so he hasn't been, until he lets one slip out.

So, like.

Historically, for me, when I've written Leon -- I have him call people nicknames when he's trying to be funny and/or a dick. I also have had him pull out pet names when he's trying to hit on someone -- but like, only one and only one time. You can't overdo it.

And I've also had him pull out more affectionate pet names when he's trying to be comforting, but also only in very context-sensitive scenarios, and -- again, only one and only one time.

And then I'm kind of liberal about it during smut. That's when all of the "good girl" and "sweet girl" and "princess" and "beautiful" comes out.

ymmv but that's how I've always done it.

[grnherbs]

Got any good audios for BSAA’s golden boy??

i absolutely do, currently under wip for him! need to find a few more and then I'll post them! just getting past my final uni exam for the year and then I'll be way for active ahaha <3

[loen-kennededy]

are there any nicknames you actually like to be called? or calling other people?

Uh… nicknames for myself? Not really. Only “nickname” I will not accept is Leonard. Personal reasons.

What I call other people? Condescendingly, I call many “sweetheart” out of habit. Used to work great on missions, but being called “sweetheart” by a drunkard isn’t the best feeling for others.

I mean, I do have BSAA’s Golden Boy, Doctor High Hopes, and Red. But only for those specific people.

[saintsofwarding]

EMBRYO

Chapter 13: I Wanna be a Cowboy, Baby

When Rose was ten, after the pony incident had faded to something of a nostalgic memory, Heisenberg had looked at the little girl, wan and pale and noodle-armed, and said, without warning, "Hey. Wanna beat each other up?"

"...What?" Rose had looked up from the book she was only half-reading. Heisenberg was bent over the table, cigar in his teeth, glasses pushed down his nose, working without cease on a snarl of engine parts, cables, and wiring. Tools levitated around him; he'd just pluck one from midair whenever he needed it.

"Kids at school call you weird," he said. "Push you around. I know. You don't tell me about it but I've seen the bruises. I know you don't want to use your freaky tentacles on 'em. Still. That shit doesn't slide with me."

"I'm fine," Rose had protested, but Heisenberg had held up a grease-stained hand, cutting off her next words.

"If you don't stop those little bastards," he said, with a tell-tale growl in his voice to match his ferine grin, "I'm gonna have to. And I'm not gonna be as nice to 'em as you will."

The very real threat of Heisenberg murdering her elementary school bullies had been enough to prompt Rose to accept his offer of combat training. As it turned out, 'combat training' boiled down to 'how to throw a haymaker and survive a hard-core, knock-me-down, blood-in-the-eyes bar fight'. It made sense to Rose, even at the time; he relied on his powers to win every scrap he found himself in, and with good reason.

Still, there was no denying that Heisenberg could throw a mean punch. Hours they spent in the alley behind their grimy inner-city building, Rose nervous at first as he showed her how to hold her wrist, how to keep her thumb outside her fingers so she didn't shatter it- "Not that a broken finger would stop you for long, kid."- but as they repeated the set- punch, knee to the groin or guts, stomp their fuckin' face in- she began demanding more and more, longer and longer, until her muscles ached and her hands hurt and at last she got it right.

Sweaty, hair sticking to her face even in the cool autumn air, she grinned up at Heisenberg and got her hair ruffled in response.

"Good job, Rosie," he'd told her, and flung his arm over her shoulder, hugging her to his side. "Hey, you wanna go eat junk food 'til we puke?"

The kids at school didn't bother her anymore, and didn't squeal on her; maybe getting decked by a wispy little blonde kid they considered humiliation enough.

I've fought worse than you, Rose had thought, remembering a forest howling with snow, the snarls of lycans deep between the trees. The glimmer of their eyes. But she'd never fought people before, ones who could look back at her in fear.

Now, her arms folded over her stomach, her heartbeat ticking the seconds by, she knew she was right back in it again.

"This is the plan," Chris Redfield said. "And I'm only gonna say it once, so all of you, pay attention."

A roomful of BSAA commandos- the entire combatant task force within the temporary facility- stretched before him. They stared at him, at Rose, eyes full of suspicion or resolve. Each one of these people, Rose knew, was prepared to fill her with bullets the second she did something weird. Each one of these people had trained for years to fight creatures like her.

Still, some of the suspicion was aimed at Redfield. She'd seen the kind of man he was from Heisenberg's memories- the golden boy of the people, the soldier who'd stared demons in the face time and time again and come out on top. What had changed now?

Rose shifted in the new and much more practical black pants and jacket Chris had unearthed for her to wear. She had the uncomfortable feeling this treatment had something to do with not only his failure at the village, but his failure afterward, as well. Losing both her and one of Miranda's top ex-enforcers in one fell swoop...maybe it had knocked him down a few notches in the eyes of the organization he worked for.

"I've spoken to HQ," Chris went on. "Because Rosemary here has given me the information I need for me and the Hound Wolf Squad to root out Ouroboros and take them down. It might simply be one head on the hydra, but destroying their Embryo deployment facility here in Regent City will send them a message they can't ignore. Maybe next time, they'll think twice about sending their monsters into the path of civilians."

"You got more info on this plan, Redfield? Or are you all just talk?" called a voice from the crowd.

"Backup from HQ will be here within the hour," Chris went on, ignoring whoever had spoken. Rose tightened her arms around herself, trying not to fidget, chew the skin on her lips, look suspicious. Behind her, between Chris and the door to the room, the Hound Wolf Squad stood at the ready- casual, but Rose sensed their tension. They'd spring into action, a seamless unit, at Chris's command. "Plenty of time to get to the Embryos and blow them to hell. From there, it's cleanup, and we can all go home."

"And why's she not in the cage with the other bioweapon?" asked a woman to the left of the room with a massive burn-scar down the side of her face. She gestured at Rose.

"That's the thing," Chris said.

He glanced at Rose- a tiny, quick dart of the eyes.

A signal.

You ready?

Rose gave a little nod in return.

Sure. We'll go with that.

"Miss Winters will explain the rest," Chris said, and stepped back.

"Sorry, guys," Rose said, and flung out her arms.

Mold exploded from the walls, the floor, from her; it fed and thrived in this dark, dank place, multiplying on itself into a startling mass of writhing blackness. The BSAA commandos burst into movement, orders shouted, curses aimed at the mold, at her, at Chris ushering the Hound Wolf Squad back through the door.

"You got this?" he called to Rose.

"Yeah!" A vast mold-tentacle wound together with another, smaller tentacles weaving between them to form a thick, impenetrable webbing, like she'd done to tie up Sam, like she'd done to block the window at the hospital. "Go get him out! Now!"

More mold sprayed forth, the webbing thickening even as the soldiers hacked at it with combat knives; gunfire rattled from within, followed by a yelp of pain.

"Don't shoot!" Rose yelled. "The bullets'll ricochet back at you!" Her hands splayed, her eyes half-lidded, she sensed the shape of her mold-cage- a rough sphere containing the roomful of people, enclosing them on all sides. Moving her hands, she guided mold tendrils to places that needed reinforcement and snaked them around the limbs of commandos that seemed particularly good at hacking into the tough, oily stuff, immobilizing them.

Sorry, sorry, sorry, I know this is weird, she thought as she hoisted them into the air, suspending them like trapeze artists from ropes of mold. At last she was done. She lowered her hands, stepping back from the massive sphere of mold that had grown within the room in minutes. She still heard yelling from within, the chop of weapons against the barrier.

Shit. She needed to scare them into stopping, give her and Chris some extra time.

"Don't try and escape!" she yelled, after a beat. "I've seeded the air with toxic mold spores. They're dormant now, but the second you breach the cage I'll know, and I'll cause them to blossom in your lungs and turn you into my slaves...or worse!"

Eveline's laugh echoed in her mind. She shoved it away. I'm not actually gonna freaking do that, you psycho, she told herself, but another part of her wondered if she could.

If she had to, would she enslave someone to her command, like Eveline, like Miranda?

She'd once shut down Heisenberg's ferrokinesis to keep him from killing a town full of people, had only restored it when she'd deemed him stable enough to use it again. Sure, that had been a necessary decision in the moment, but actually making him do things, controlling him like a puppet, was only one or two steps further along that same path.

She gave her head a little shake. One of the commandos had dropped their gun in the initial chaos, a mean-looking black pistol. Rose scooped it up without thinking and shoved it through her belt, then spun on her heel and dashed from the room, after Chris and the Squad.

Chaos met her down the hallways. An alarm blared, a shrill klaxon from corroded warehouse speakers. The non-combatant BSAA operatives who'd accompanied Chris here scurried from her as she ran down the corridors, trying to remember which way had led to Heisenberg's containment cell. All these damn hallways looked the same.

"Where are the guards? Where the hell are all the guards?" one guy was yelling into a radio. Rose came up behind him and slammed her knee into his back, knocking him into a wall. She cracked her boot down on the radio, smashing it to pieces, then spun him around to face her.

"They're a little tied up at the moment," she said. "I'm lost. Where's the metal man?"

"You...you can't intimidate me..."

I don't have time for this, Rose thought. She got out her new gun and pressed it to the dude's eyeball. "Wanna bet?"

He pointed the way.

As she raced down the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time, she felt a rippling impactfrom beneath her, a blast that rained chips of concrete from the ceiling and made the lights flicker like a haunted house's.

That sounded like a really thick sheet of glass going boom. She'd better hurry.

"You!"

The voice echoed to her. She looked down as a man in black body armor charged from the shadows. Before he slid his mask over his eyes she recognized him- the guy who'd challenged Chris earlier, who'd accused him of having a death wish.

"Knew Redfield had gone soft," he yelled, leaping up the steps as Rose stumbled back, fumbling for her pistol. "Too long in the business, huh?"

He drew and fired as Rose wrangled her gun from her side; white agony tore through her hand as it burst like rotten fruit, a shower of blood glistening in the muzzle flash. She screamed; her pistol spiraled over the railing, her mangled hair hanging off her wrist.

As the guy closed the distance between them he unsheathed a massive hooked combat knife from his side.

"You're not a zombie," he went on, "but I figure taking off the head'll do the trick anyway."

He lashed out. Rose barely dodged his swing. His second sparked off the railing, gashing her cheek on its way past; she felt the cold of the cut before she felt the slip of blood down her face.

She jerked out of the way as he spun, stumbling backward down the stairs as he geared up to charge.

"You might look like Winters' kid, but I know a mutant when I see one." He flipped the knife from hand to hand; Rose concentrated, trying to gather her thoughts enough to summon her mold, but her brain was a scrabble of terror and pain, the flesh of her mangled hand twitching, trying to stick itself back together. Come on. The power is a part of you. It's a part of you. "You aren't anything anymore, just like he was at the end. You'll die just like he did."

He lunged; the knife glittered, raised to gash down into her neck; Rose did the only thing her desperate brain could think of, the only thing she could do. She slammed her good hand over his helmet visor and sent the mold right in.

Tentacles tore from her hand, winding under the helmet and into every available orifice. Eyes, mouth, nose; his muffled cry of horror bit off as they filled his airways. Rose sent her awareness into his head; cold enclosed her mind, echoing, shifting darkness, the gibber of thoughts, the pulse of a heart that wasn't hers- let me go let me go let me go-

Quiet.

He went limp. Rose tore her hand backward, mold tentacles retracting, as the BSAA soldier tipped backward, collapsing in a heap to the stairs. Breathing hard, Rose stared. His face beneath the helmet was blackened and slimy, dark blood oozing from his nose and eyes, as if he'd already begun to rot. Her head felt stuffed with wool, all sound muffled.

He was dead.

She'd killed him.

Was she gonna be sick?

No. No. She couldn't be. She couldn't stop now. As she turned, preparing to go on, the corpse began to liquefy and collapse in on itself. Within seconds he was a puddle of black goo that quickly crystallized, becoming nothing more than dust.

The door was still a level below- but that wasn't an issue, was it? Before she could overthink it, Rose swung her legs over the handrail and leaped. Her heart jolted- then her feet slammed to concrete. She sprang upright and pushed through the door, into the hall beyond.

Smoke billowed over her as she shouldered through doors busted off their hinges and into the containment room. She almost tripped over the bodies at the door. The guards, she realized, out cold. Her eyes watered as she squinted through the smoke, toward the mass of smashed glass and off-kilter floodlights pointing off at crazy angles.

The containment cell had been blasted open, a ring of charred floor spreading from what looked like the initial explosion point.

"Chris?" she called.

Someone grabbed her shoulder; she whirled with a scream, but it was just one of the Hound Wolf Squad, a fox-faced redhead in a pair of tactical goggles.

She gave Rose a nod. "Made it out?" she asked. "Nice work, hotshot."

Rose managed a small smile. "Thanks."

"How long until they follow?" Chris called.

He had his gun pointed at Heisenberg, who stood in the slew of shattered glass, staring at him with a slight, smug grin on his face.

"What's a-matter?" he asked Chris. "Is Big Bad Redfield scared?"

"You told me you were gonna kill me slow last time we had a nice heart to heart," Chris said, coolly.

"Yeah, I did, didn't I," Heisenberg said. His grin widened. "Lucky for you I've still got this collar on."

"Take it off," Rose told Chris.

He glanced at her. "No way-"

"Take it off or he's not going anywhere," Rose said. "And neither am I. He'll listen to me."

Heisenberg laughed.

"He'll listen," Rose pressed. She put her hand to Chris's massive bicep. "My mold cage won't hold forever, and sooner rather than later we're gonna get overwhelmed. If you ever trusted my dad, trust me now and take the collar off."

Chris's jaw clenched, but he nodded at one of the Squad, who stepped in, unfolding a little toolkit, and got to work on the collar. Heisenberg tipped his head back, maintaining eye contact with Chris, his grin sinking slowly into a slight glitter of bared teeth.

Rose stood, her good hand raised. Come on. Don't let this all come crashing down. She couldn't stop seeing the dead man in the stairwell outside. Please, please, please-

The collar clicked open.

Heisenberg lunged.

With a snarl of laughter he grabbed Chris by the front of his harness and hoisted him into the air- it looked impossible, improbable, but he did it, a wave of pure magnetism sweeping from him, blasting aside all loose metal objects in the room, sending the Hound Wolf Squad stumbling.

"Attack pattern bister!" ordered the Afrikaner.

"This is for invading my fuckin' factory," Heisenberg snarled, his other hand around Chris's throat, his grip tightening with each word. Chris wheezed, fighting Heisenberg's grip. "For those fuckin' horse pills you shot me with. For being a total- fuckin'- asshole-"

"Heisenberg!" Rose commanded. "No!"

He looked at her. She stood with her injured hand raised, with mold writhing from the wound, pulling together shattered bone and cartilage, mangled flesh and strings of muscle, slicking it all down with a wet, sickening crackle.

"You screw this up now and I swear to god I'm gonna kill you," Rose said.

Heisenberg's eyes narrowed. He looked back at Chris.

His grin reappeared, as megawatt as ever.

"Looks like today's your lucky day," he said, and dropped him. Chris stumbled back; he touched his throat. The Hound Wolf Squad, circling them, lowered their weapons.

Heisenberg ambled over to Rose and gently took her injured hand, now almost entirely healed. "Who did this?" he said.

"Someone dead."

"Good," Heisenberg told her. He stroked his thumb over the wound. "'Cause otherwise I would've had to waste more time hunting 'em down and ripping their fuckin' head off."

He looked up. "Now where the hell is my coat?"

***

The outer wall exploded in a blast of rubble and orange flames. Beyond stretched the greenish gloom of a multilevel parking garage.

As Rose and Heisenberg moved in, the Squad hung back.

"Cover us," Chris ordered them. "But don't get overwhelmed. Get the hell out and to safety if it gets rough, you hear me?"

"You got it, Alpha."

Chris fell into step alongside Rose as the Hound Wolf Squad peeled away, vanishing back into the facility.

"We need to get somewhere high up," Rose began. "That way we'll have the best chances of drawing in the Embryo while keeping it away from everyone else."

"Good call. We'll head to the roof. And then-"

"I got it from there," Heisenberg drawled.

Gunfire rattled from behind them, echoing long through the parking garage. Chris's frown deepened, but he just picked up his pace, leading them toward the elevator. Its controls were dark, and when he slammed his fist into them, nothing happened.

"Shit," he muttered. "Someone cut the power. We'll have to take the stairs."

"Seriously?" Heisenberg said.

He clicked his fingers. The elevator doors crashed apart with the squeal of metal on metal. "Age before beauty, Redfield," he said, gesturing in.

Chris got in, which Rose thought was pretty generous of him.

"You're going straight back in your goddamn cage the second this is over," he said.

"Assuming a monster doesn't bite your head off in the meantime."

A brow lifted. "Yeah? That mean you or the Embryo?"

"Heh," Heisenberg said. "We can get creative."

"Can we not?" Rose said loudly.

"'Course. Sorry, sorry." Heisenberg lifted his arms, straining slightly; high above, the sound of grinding echoed down the elevator shaft, and with a hum and a shudder, the elevator lurched into the air far faster than it would have under its own steam. The parking garage shot out of view, and then they were soaring upward, the shaft walls a blur of concrete and work lights outside the elevator's smashed-open doors.

Rose held on, explaining the plan to Heisenberg. When at last the elevator slowed, coming to a halt with another squeal of metal and the smell of burning, she let go and stepped into the rainy darkness beyond.

The rooftop of what looked like a warehouse complex stretched before her, slick with rain, Regent City a blur of light over its edge. She pulled up her jacket hood and followed Heisenberg to the middle of the roof, the two of them watching the skies. She didn't miss the slight hitch in his walk, the way he winced and pressed his hand, briefly, to his chest. She didn't point out the obvious. They both knew he was still hurt.

From below-

Shouts. Commands. The hiss of radio static.

"Dammit," Chris muttered. He drew his sidearm, checked the magazine, reloaded it with deft speed. "We got incoming."

"Come on," Rose whispered. Her nails cut into her palms. If this didn't work, if the Embryo didn't show, if the BSAA backup Chris had called got here before they brought this whole thing down, they'd all three of them be locked up so tight there was no hope of freedom for them.

But if it does-

If they don't-

Maybe Heisenberg sensed what she was thinking, some scrap of connection giving him insight into her head. Maybe he just knew her all too well. He was looking down at her, now, not at the sky. His eyes winked in the light, pupils glimmering an eerie green.

"Almost Halloween," he remarked.

"Uh-huh."

"What you wanna do this year, kid? Carve turnips?"

"Pumpkins."

"Turnips," Heisenberg insisted. "To keep away the evil spirits. So you don't wake up with your wolf-sick mother chewing on your toes."

He had, as well, an unusual grasp on holidays. He'd tried to celebrate things like 'Midwinter Tithe' and 'Wolf-Milk Moon' when she was a child, had decorated for these days with garlic blossoms and candles, black feathers and wreaths of red ribbon. It was one of the few times she'd seen him reverent, and had moaned how she didn't want this, she wanted the same stuff her friends and classmates celebrated.

"Fine," she said now. "Turnips."

"We'll watch something gory. Something real sick and twisted."

"I'll ask the girl at the video store for recommendations."

"Hey," Heisenberg said. "Since this whole Sam thing seems like a bust, maybe you can ask her for her, uh, number, or, uh, whatever it is you kids do."

"Yeah. Sure."

"Sorry about all that, anyway."

"I'm not sure it would work out in the long run."

"Yeah, well." He paused. "Rose."

"Mm-hm."

"Whatever happens-"

"Don't," Rose said, softly. She took his thumb and squeezed it, briefly, like she had when she was a child, her hands too small to hold anything else. "Save it. Okay?"

He nodded.

"Okay, kid," he said, his voice so soft she barely heard it through the rain.

"Here they come!" Chris roared.

The sound of metal breaking, of a command shouted over distance; Chris dived behind the elevator and fired, the crack of his gunfire echoing across the rooftops. Heisenberg shoved Rose out of the way, closer to the edge of the roof. Metal particles whirled into a cyclone around them, glittering in the light pollution.

"Over there-"

"Find and contain the bioweapons! If they attack-"

"Shit! Again?"

A howl echoed through the rain, through the chaos of the gunfight, Chris somehow holding off the entire retinue of BSAA commandos. Pressure swept the roof. Massive wings flashed through the low clouds, underlit by the city lights. Another shriek split Rose's head. Her heart hammered, her adrenaline spiking.

With a look at Heisenberg, she flung herself to her feet. He was at her back; he tore a piece of corrugated metal off the rooftop as the BSAA opened fire. Bullets hailed off the makeshift shield- not as many as their could have been; half the gunfire went toward the skies, keeping the Embryo back. Rose didn't want to keep it back. She leapt onto the railing and stood in the freezing, gusting rain, her arms outstretched, Heisenberg pulling more metal around them, making a bigger and bigger shield, lightning arcing between the plates.

"Come on!" Rose screamed. The Embryo's shriek echoed back to her, as if in answer. "I'm right here! Come and get me!"

It swooped from the clouds without warning: an instant of shadow, and then it was there, wings unfurled, its mouthparts splayed, the muzzle fire illuminating it from within so its translucent matter seemed to glow with ruddy light. Rose dived out of the way, and Heisenberg whirled into her place, jagged metal shards at the ready.

With a snarl he sent them at the Embryo: not to kill it, not even to incapacitate it. They sliced through the blobs of tumorous matter on either side of the thing's neck and bent, forming a kind of collar.

If we kill it, another one will take its place, Rose had told Chris. We've got to stop it at the source. Stop Ouroboros' Embryo program once and for all.

So?

So- we don't know where these monsters are coming from.

She'd given him a hard grin.

But the monsters do.

"Chris!" Rose screamed, turning to scan the gunfight. He was there, hunkered down behind cover, raining fire on the incoming BSAA. "Now!"

"You go! I'll follow you when I get these bastards off your tail."

"Don't die," Rose called.

He saluted her. "You too, Winters."

Heisenberg grabbed the back of her coat, his other hand outstretched, lassoing the Embryo in place with the strength of his power alone. It clawed at its collar, but the metal bit deep into its matter, mutagen and acid raining to the city below.

"Hang on," Heisenberg said, and leaped. Rose yelped; they sailed into empty air, pulled along by his magnetism. With a clang he landed on the Embryo's back, boots adhered to the collar like he had with the tank-plane's wing.

He circled his finger and another piece of metal whirled into a length of cable, rough and barbed. He lashed it to the collar as Rose hung on around his neck, clinging onto him like a baby monkey.

She yelped again as Heisenberg released his control over the Embryo. Its massive wings beat down; the rooftop fell away, beast and Heisenberg and Rose rocketing higher into the sky.

The monster bucked and twisted, trying to throw them off, but Heisenberg kept them stuck tight. He cackled as they soared higher and higher, all the way from his guts, an unbridled sound of pure, maniacal joy.

"Yee-fuckin-haw!" he yelled. "Look at me, Rose! Look at me! I've tamed the beast! I should have done this to Dimitrescu years ago! Ha-HA! Imagine the look on those fool villagers' faces when they saw me riding their dragon countess into the middle of-"

"Yeah, I bet it'd be great, please let me down."

"Oh yeah." He released her. She slid down him and onto the collar. It was just wide enough to kneel on without touching the monster's acidic flesh. The edges of the collar were just beginning to blacken and crumble. She hoped to god they'd have time to find its den before the collar disintegrated entirely.

She'd clamped two pairs of thick handcuffs around her upper arms and ankles when she got dressed in her new clothes, smuggled to her between the T-shirt and pants thanks to Chris. They hummed against her skin as Heisenberg kept his control on them, holding her in place on the Embryo's back.

When she'd explained the plan to him on the elevator, all he'd said was, "We're gonna ride that thing?"

"Yep," she'd said, tensely.

He'd grinned in return. "Sold. Let's fuckin' go."

Sometimes she wanted to bash his head in with a shovel. Other times, though, it was really, really easy to like him.

They careened through the sky. The wind resistance was murder, like ropes pressing her arms to her sides; Rose grit her teeth, mold writhing around her forearms, forming a thick layer over her skin.

She pulled forward and pressed her hands to the back of the Embryo's neck, onto flesh.

See, Rosemary? I knew you could do it.

"Shut up, Eveline," Rose spat, and with a screaming effort, she shoved her mind into the Embryo like a knife into butter.

She'd expected resistance. Monster impulses. Something weird.

She hadn't expected memories.

They washed over her, a flooding, drowning deluge. She lost the edges of her physical body, flung into the depths of her own mind. White-coated scientists, seen through hazy pink liquid. An endless winding maze of white corridors. The movement of waves glimpsed through a porthole. A number, emblazoned on dark metal in white paint. Hands- her hands?- pallid and dark-veined, covered in sensors. The agony and fear as her body sloughed away from itself, as it was torn apart by some mistake in its genetic code, its mutation too violent.

A song, a voice, winding through the memories, stitching them together. A little girl, lost in the dark forest...

A voice, dry and bored and masculine. The girl's DNA is too unstable. She's powerful, but there's not enough cohesion between her original makeup and the new biomatter grafted onto her by the genetic recombination.

A new voice, a woman's voice, strained and desperate. Just...just let us keep working...I know she'll be enough!

The first speaker gave a heavy sigh. An interesting specimen, to be sure, but I think our efforts are better expended elsewhere...

Wait! The second voice again. Wait. I know what we can do. Where I can find you a perfect hybrid. Believe me. You don't know how special he is.

Rose came back into her body with a raw gasp. Her heart pounded.

"Heisenberg," she yelled.

"What!"

"Veer toward the ocean! I know where we can find them!"

The Embryo screeched as he drove the metal spikes deeper, giving it a lash down its left side with the sparking end of the cable. They hung a right, scraps of cloud whipping through Rose's hair as they dropped in altitude. Regent City burst into view, the ocean stretching beyond, the lights from the docks drawn long as candle flames over the water. Rose's stomach lurched as the Embryo's wings angled, bringing them into a steeper descent.

Under her knees, the acid crept up, and up, and up the collar.

They didn't have much time.

"There!" she cried, pointing to one of the long industrial docks that stretched out into the water. "Take us there!"

They landed with more grace than the tank-plane; that wasn't saying much. The Embryo drove down its wings as the last moment, claws screeching on the concrete, bashing past unloaded cargo containers and a row of parked cars before it finally rolled to a halt.

It wasn't done. It shoved upright on its wing-knuckles, snapping its vast jaws.

Its tongue burst from the depths of its mouth. Heisenberg jerked back as it whipped around toward them. A slash of his arm sent a shard of metal through it, severing the tongue at the base. The movement proved too much for the collar. It snapped with a twang; Heisenberg grabbed Rose and bailed. They crashed to the ground as the Embryo whirled, blood and acid spraying from its mouth, and screamed.

Rose squared up to fight, Heisenberg at her side. But something was happening to the Embryo, something weird. There seemed to be something caught in its throat; it made exaggerated hacking movements, like a cat trying to cough up a hairball.

"Now that's messed up," was all Heisenberg, said as the Embryo hacked the- whatever it is- onto the pavement, and Rose saw with dawning horror just how right he was.

[attackpoodle]

3, 6, and 18? :D

3 - Piers. We been knew.

In the nicest way possible, Leon, Chris, Claire, and Jill aren't getting any younger. I mean, in the current timeline, they're all either in or flirting with their sixties. I really thought when they introduced him (I played 6 after Village) that he and Jake and Sherry were going to be like, the next generation. The next lot of protagonists. The soldier, the merc, the agent. But no. They fucked it.

6 - Oooh....I'd have liked to have played Mia so I could yeet her off a cliff. I don't like her.

Aside from her....maybe one of the Lords? I'd love to get a bit more backstory, even like a Visual Novel, on them.

18 - Pretty much anything Leon says in 6. Love Matt Mercer. But my top two are: "And I lost over seventy-thousand people, including the President, because of Simmons!" and "Welcome to the club. You get used to it."

Honourable mention to: "Oh, look who it is! The BSAA's Golden Boy and Doctor High Hopes! What the hell do you want?"