#v: Crimson Executive

[hopelessbaddays]

when the men are red

and disguised

[soullessdianthus]

can i request ghost x reader, kind of like an enemies to lovers/hatefucking type situation 🫣 can be as kinky as you like. thank you <3

A/N: I'm living for this trope with Ghost! Because I believe he could be absolute douche sometimes, but at the end of the day, he would just drown you in sweet affection. (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

Warnings: enemies to lovers (idiots in love), implied age gap, angst???, smut (p in v, slow and gentle sex, unprotected)

Word count: 4.2k oops

It felt like literal eternity serving within the British Army. But in reality it’s only been three years since you enrolled. Since the very beginning of your personal excursion along the nine circles of hell, the devil was looming above your head – Lieutenant Riley. 

God damn bastard. 

Around a year ago Captain John Price was selecting only a few privates to see if any of the “fresh blood” was fit to join his special forces. You happened to be one of the lucky soldiers. 

During this intense year of service you managed to get promoted to a sergeant, allowing you to be more independent during missions than a rookie or a private. To be honest, you were amongst the youngest sergeants out there in the army, along Soap MacTavish. 

You were good. That’s what Price told you at the end of the selections. You weren’t as strong as men larger and taller than you, but you catch up in the different fields. Swift yet seamless in the way you moved, quietly. A good aim and fast ability to evaluate the situation. 

Sometimes your biggest flaw was panicking during shootouts. Especially when your team was getting slaughtered, one by one and your cheeks were splashed with thick, warm blood. If not your slightly strayed aim and heavy breathing no one would even know. 

You were extremely young for such missions Captain (or Laswell) sent you on, so honestly, the way your body reacted was a basic human reaction to such stress and trauma. 

And there he was, a man soaked in crimson, his skull mask remaining untouched. Ghost walked right by you inside of the helo, when Soap tried to console you by nudging your arm. 

You felt his dark eyes looking at you with scorn, disappointment maybe. Ghost never praised you, not once, even if you saved their arses. All of them. 

━ Pull yourself together, sergeant. ━ Lieutenant snarled, before sitting down on the opposite bench. 

━ Ignore him, lass. He’s just a grumpy sad man.

Johnny was more than right about Simon Riley being a sad man having a sad life. Perhaps that’s why he got so used to crushing each bundle of joy in his life.

You thanked God in situations like this, that there was always Soap or Gaz to ease the tension between Lieutenant Riley and you. Because no matter how much you acted unbothered and tough or how much you tried to ignore his hatred towards you, Ghost’s attitude was painfully scratching your heart. 

Obviously you made some mistakes, all of them had. You were just humans at the end of the day. So whenever you tried to impress the others, looking out for friend’s approval, you were struck by his empty stare full of pity. 

You hated to admit it to yourself, you never wanted to, but you couldn’t just treat him indifferently. There was some fucked up part inside of you that didn’t want to let him go. And it only brought more pain.

There was no logical explanation why Ghost despited you so much. You were humble about your job or abilities and overall polite (well, most of the time, lately you began to talk back to the grumpy Englishman).

But what you didn’t know was that Ghost was actually jealous. 

He couldn’t stand how quick it was for someone as young and fragile as you to climb to the sergeant’s position. Ghost didn’t possess the features you had – the way you made friends so easily among the comrades, how you practically every time executed your job without a slip up or how you put a spell over Soap, Gaz and even Price. They were all fond of you.

Once, when you got hurt, Ghost couldn’t help but to trace the dripping blood from the cut on your cheekbone. The blood trickled down your soft skin over the curvature of your face, which he involuntarily found pretty for a woman. The crimson substance dripped down your chin and onto the cleavage of your shirt. 

Simon swore, he could see your round, full breasts through the tight shirt. Only then he snapped back to reality. Since then he hated himself even more for casually showing such fragility. Ghost couldn’t let you be his weakness. The ghost had none. 

But all you could see in this situation was that your lieutenant was disappointed with you. That you managed to get hurt on such an easy mission. “Such a failure in his eyes, am I?”, you thought to yourself.

The other time, when you followed him along the concrete wall, trying to flee the ambush, Ghost happened to be just too close to you. His broad shoulder touching you almost constantly. 

His presence didn’t bother you, until the lieutenant's tight grip over your upper arm barely cut the blood circulation in the limb. He yanked you backwards so hard, you nearly stumbled. 

━ Have you lost your fuckin’ mind? ━ Ghost growled in a raspy voice, making sure you weren’t shot. He brought you close to his own body, too close. You could feel the warmth of his body, almost welcoming you into embrace. Almost.

━ I got it covered! ━ His gloved hand snatched up to cover your mouth at once.  Both of you stilled upon hearing the enemy walking past your cover. Simon retraced his palm only when he was sure the danger was gone. ━ You’re insufferable, Lt.

━ Congratulations, the girl finally noticed. You want some cheers or a confetti thrown? 

━ Would like one actually ━ you agreed with a pathetic shell of a man, wasting all of the strength not to tell him to fuck off ━ but not from you. Let’s move.

Ouch, that had to hurt his fragile ego. But Ghost wondered why it actually made his blood boil. Why your little back talk got him riled up. 

For years he got used to hearing insults or miserable comments from other soldiers. So why did he feel truly insulted when it came to you and your filthy mouth? He felt similar to a parent who failed to put their child into their place. 

So he desired to torment you a little more. However, this decision ended differently than usual, when he toyed with you, mocking each aspect regarding your life.

This time you smacked him across his face, when you were back in the helo taking a few soldiers back to base. One too many malicious comments from the lieutenant and you snapped. 

Of course you regretted being so carried out by emotions, but slapping Ghost across his stupid mask gave you a sense of relief. Bastard deserved that.

You were surprised when one of the women in the barracks told you that Ghost is asking for your presence in his office. That it’s urgent.

It has been a couple of days since “the incident” and since then you hadn’t been forced to spend time with him, not in the training area nor in the cafeteria. 

You jumped out of your bed and pulled on the high trail shoes and stuffed the legs of your pants inside of them. There were many ideas coming to your mind, why he requested your presence. Perhaps, the little disagreement in the helo was too much. Maybe the Captain was there with him, ready to reprimand you for such disrespect towards the Lt?

Who knew, the only way to find out was to go and see for yourself. So you did. 

The base seemed more empty than ever before, most of the soldiers being sent away on missions. Or on a training grounds, far from the main building. 

So you walked with a steady pace down the hallway until your eyes managed to read the label “Lt Riley” on the doors. Before your hand reached for the handle, you acknowledged the state your body was in – wrist and slender fingers shaking, skin inflamed. Were you afraid of this confrontation? What was wrong with you?

A loud sigh left your mouth and your chest collapsed. You knocked twice and entered the office only when you heard his voice “come in”. 

━ You wanted to see me? 

━ Come, I might need your help ━ such foolishly selected words made your heart skip a beat. You closed the door behind and walked closer to where he was sitting. ━ Fill those just like the example here and then put them aside. 

Ghost pointed to the one singular sheet of paper already filled out and your eyes wandered on the massive pile of those you were supposed to complete. The similar stack was on the lieutenant’s right. 

━ And you can’t do it yourself? ━ You raised your brow, looking in a questionable way at him. Ghost sighed, rolling his eyes.

━ Can’t you just do what your told?

You grabbed the folding chair and set it next to the grumpy man. You carefully watched his reaction as you did so. 

━ Soap wasn’t available?

━ He’s on a deployment, somewhere in Urzikstan ━ the man wearing a balaclava with solid skull sewed to it explained briefly. ━ Besides, I needed a woman to help me out with this.

━ Oh wow, didn’t know you were a sexist. ━ A surprised huff slipped out of your mouth, when you got comfortable on the plastic chair next to him. He sneaked a peek at your wiggling hips and felt a sudden wave of heat.  

━ Fuckin’ hell ━ he cursed, passing you the pen. ━ You think Johnny or Gaz know how to sign their own name? At least you know how to write, yeah?

━ Look, you just said something nice for once. 

A not so fake, but forced smile twisted your face as you accepted the pen he given you. 

━ Don’t flatter yourself. 

━ Nothing coming from your mouth is flattering, Lt. 

Within the last spoken sentence you began filling the papers out just as he instructed. The task itself wasn’t difficult, just repetitive. 

Minutes passed as you sat next to Ghost in silence. Only the sound of paper sheets being moved around intervened with the quietness. You unknowingly started to chew on your lower lip, distracting the man sitting beside you. But how could you know this, he just hummed from time to time, God knew why. 

The tension between the two of you started to fade out as you felt more comfortable spending time with him. Work time of course, doing important things, but in a secluded room and all alone. 

Your somehow guilty mind didn’t want to leave the business unclear, there was a need rooted inside of you that needed its explanation. 

So you gathered enough bravery and finally spoke, breaking the silence. 

━ You’re in a mood for talking, sir? 

━ Not particularly ━ Ghost replied, eyes still glued to the documentation in front of him. ━ But since you addressed me properly… What do you want?

He was right. Maybe it was the first time you addressed him with “sir” since the beginning. 

━ I’m not looking for trouble, alright? But, what is your problem? Why… ━ you paused for a second, your own gaze drilling into the pen you were gripping so hard between your fingers ━ are you so harsh to me? 

━ What did you expect joining the military, eh? Would you like a special treatment? 

━ An equal treatment would be great ━ you emphasized on the words, sinking further into a plastic chair. ━ See, you don’t even understand. 

Why were you sitting there, listening to him taking out his bitterness on you? There was far more you deserve in life than this. You did nothing wrong to be treated as such. 

━ I tried getting along with you, Simon ━ you continued after a moment of silence. You were so focused on the confusing feeling in your guts, that you missed the part when he stopped working to look directly at you. And the sadness painted on that pretty face of yours. ━ I really did. But you're pushing everyone away and that’s not my problem. So don’t dare take this out on me. 

His short, but rough laugh echoed in your ears and blush of humiliations covered your cheeks. There was even a hint of you crying in a matter of seconds, but you kept your act together. That’s what he told you so often, right? 

━ Jesus fuckin’ Christ. ━ The lieutenant muttered, your face twisted in pure anger.

That’s it. That was the fine line. 

Suddenly you stood up, pushing the chair with the back of your thighs. It almost fell down with a thud, but you caught the backrest quickly, before it could actually happen. 

Did he just laugh at you? 

━ What the fuck is wrong with you?! ━ You let the emotions emerge to the surface, raising your voice at the masked man. But despite the wrong he did, what Ghost said to you, you couldn’t find a dash of hatred towards him. It made you feel sick. ━ Why do you hate me so much? I didn’t do anything wrong!

Ghost stood up from his own seat and out of the sudden his larger body caged you in between him and the solid desk. The Englishman placed his hands on both sides of you, over the countertop, taking away the possibility of you escaping. Slipping away through his fingers.

He pressed his chest and whole front of his body into your back. To your (and his) surprise, you didn’t even flinch. Ghost’s head was leaning next to your left ear. The significant skull mask staring directly at you. 

━ I can’t stand your presence, sergeant. It makes my blood boil, especially when you laugh. Because it… ━ he paused, inhaling sharply through his teeth ━ you make me feel things. Though, I’ve no hatred towards you, Y/N.

A confusion overwhelmed your body, when he didn’t snap back or when he didn’t bother to be mean towards you further than that. Your heart was hammering inside of your ribcage.

All these months, he kept pushing you away with his repulsive attitude, just because Ghost didn’t want to allow anyone closer. His heart was cold, so how come you managed to stir something in him? 

In a cold-blooded killer?

━ You’re better than me. All those atrocities we experienced, didn’t change you into a fuckin’ killin’ machine. A monster. Because you shouldn’t end up like me. 

His right hand, not wearing any glove, slowly raised in the air until it reached your face. With the outer side of his palm and knuckles, the more scarred one, he caressed your features. The outline of your cheek and jaw, the curvature of your lips. 

Your body instinctively leaned into his touch, into the tenderness it craved subconsciously. You would never imagine Ghost was capable of such intimate acts. 

━ You’re not a monster, Simon ━ your mind was eased, yet body was inflamed with something more. The skin craved more answers, more clarifications. An assurance. ━ Just an idiot. 

He chuckled softly, his chest tensing for a moment. You could feel it through the layers of clothes that separated you from each other. 

His hand left the side of your face. The lieutenant removed his balaclava along with the skull mask. You knew it, because he placed it on the desk nearby, just in your sight. He was exposing himself to you. He wasn’t fucking around this time. He was serious. 

━ Look at me. 

Ghost tone was firm, a bunch of words sounding like an order. And like a good soldier you followed this one. 

You slowly moved around, before leaning against the desk again, but this time you were facing him – Simon Riley himself. Not Ghost. Not a shell of a man. 

His face was covered with many scars and memories, it was true, but you would never say that it mutilated him anyhow. He was still handsome, especially with his messed up blonde hair sticking to his forehead. 

You didn’t even realize when the corners of your mouth twisted warmly at this sight. You couldn’t devour it for so long, because he grabbed both sides of your flustered face and pulled you into a passionate, deep kiss. 

Something he was restraining himself from for so long. It became agonizing. 

Your fingers shot up, surprised by the sudden grasp, filling the hollow depth between Simon’s knuckles. 

This shouldn’t feel good, this should have tasted like a sin. He was in a way your superior, he was older than you and he made you believe you were his demise. Which in a way you were. He was ready to throw aside his grumpy mask, if that would make you smile more often. 

Simon thought he would never expose himself like this, show his vulnerability to anyone. Until he met you. 

The breathing between each kiss became a heavy panting – lovers stealing the air from each other. He has clearly shown how much he craved your closeness, the smell of your skin and the taste of your tongue. Something that was so prohibited for a long time. 

━ I still can’t comprehend this, Simon. I really thought you hated me. You’re not playing with me now, are you?

You needed answers, you couldn’t just simply fall for his words. You were not a silly girl anymore. Maybe unintentionally, but during the last couple of months with such stupid behavior, he made you question a confession like this. 

He abused your trust.

There was a feeling in your starved heart that Simon didn’t mean to use you or to hurt in any way, shape or form. But perhaps, due to his own life experience, he couldn’t express his emotions or desires otherwise.  

Simon Riley was a strange, secluded man. 

━ ‘m not. I’m sorry. But the way you fell for my teasin’, priceless. 

Simon chuckled into your sensitive ear as he revealed the truth. When his warm breath tickled the skin over your neck, you tried to shield it from him, before Simon latched onto it like a bloodsucking leech. 

He stepped closer towards your figure trapped in front of him, but only when he bumped into you, he realized how excited and bothered he got. How his trousers became instantly tighter against his manhood. 

━ Fuck. ━ He murmured out, head hanging low in shame. 

━ Simon ━ your sweet voice snatched him back to reality from the depths of his worried mind. You clung to his chest, pressing against his toned body, hands sneaking over his frame. ━ Would you like some help? 

Fuck.

Simon barely managed to swallow his own saliva, when he nodded his head. He wanted to hold you, to have you. Entirely. To leave shady stamps over your skin, so the next morning you would remember this confession. You would remember him. 

━ Not so tough now, aren’t we? ━ You jokingly said, when the lieutenant managed to relax a little bit. When he quit being ashamed of his boner. 

━ You’ve put a spell on me, damn vixen. 

━ Keep telling yourself, Lt. 

The blonde man, still with the smudged black paint over his eyelids, squeezed your hip for a moment, before he reached for the thick blanket from the little, old couch. He unfolded it on the ground and you stepped closer.

Ghost grabbed your smaller hand and guided you to get down on your knees along with him. Your glossed eyes, shimmering with lust followed his handsome face. The face that he kept hidden for so long. 

It was a matter of seconds, before the two of you clung to each other, lips connected with desire. Sloppily, you took some clothing off of him and yourself – like heavy, dirty shoes, his warm jacket or your trousers. 

Your curious eyes noticed his tattoo. It wasn’t the first time you managed to sneak a peek, but it was a first look from this close. 

Simon laid you down onto the plaid blanket and sat on his knees between your legs. His broader shoulders leaned over you, casting a shadow beneath. You kept his face close, leaving a trail of kisses over his features. His short beard tickled you here and there.

━ You okay? ━ He asked, sounding a little concerned that the things progressed so fast. But your eager nodding dispersed the worries away. 

━ Still mad at you, it’s all. 

━ I’ll apologize then. 

Simon unzipped his pants, before he slid them slightly down the thighs. You noticed the bright, short hairs over his meaty legs, prior to him grabbing the sergeant and pulling closer to his groin.

He managed to maneuver your far more delicate form with no struggle, it amazed you how aware Simon was of his strength. 

He smudged the flush tip of his hardened length down your now exposed slit. You gasped at the sudden touch there, pressing eyes shut. The soldier kissed gently over your fluttering eyelid and continued pushing forward with his hips. 

When his stomach brushed in a swiping motion against your softer belly, you suppressed a mewl by biting onto your lip. Simon continued thrusting into your heat in a gentle way. In a way, you wouldn’t think that someone who hated you so much would do.

The blonde man propped against his right forearm, placed next to your head. You could clearly see how his bicep tensed with each movement. Simon’s other palm wandered over the side of your body, fingers counting the ribs under the skin. 

In fact, he was so delicate his touch almost tingled. 

Your thighs squished his sides, when the lieutenant speeded up the rhythm of the thrusts. You felt the crude way your bodies were connected and found pure, primitive pleasure with such an act. 

How Simon moved within you, how the sex itself was passionate yet not painful, the way he made you feel secure and protected between his arms. In his arms.

When you opened enough for him, a couple of cute moans slipped from your mouth just as he pressed his forehead against yours. 

━ Simon. ━ You whispered, the ecstasy of the moment becoming overwhelming. 

You leaned for a sloppy kiss. No, not one. You wanted more. He kept holding himself back, waiting for your initiations. 

So when you welcomed him inside your mouth, he clung to it tighter. The coiling pressure in your tummy grew stronger, making your fingers numb.

━ Si–Simon, I–

You didn’t have to finish the sentence, he already knew. The lieutenant could read you like a book. His favorite one. 

━ Fuck, me too. ━ He groaned through his teeth, feeling his cock twitch inside of you. 

Your hips bucked vividly into him, when you nuzzled your head into Simon’s neck – exactly where it meets with the shoulder. His scent was heavy in the air. The sound of his loud breaths filled your ears. 

━ Don’t stop, don’t stop. ━ You chanted whispering, slowly drifting yourself into upcoming orgasm. 

So when the coiling feeling of climax snapped inside of you, you let out a breathless moan. Your slender fingers squeezing around Simon’s arm and shoulder, lower half of the body spasming uncontrollably. 

The lieutenant nearly lost himself within the divine sensations your body provided him with. Simon’s shoulders tensed, thighs flexed and he continued to lead you through your pleasure, meanwhile chasing his own. 

And finally, when you started becoming limp on that plaid blanket beneath with a final, eager thrust, he climaxed too. His hips shuttered, mouth fallen agape while riding through his own peak. The Englishman muttered your name on repeat for a moment as his length throbbed.

Simon was so preoccupied with blinding delight that he hadn’t noticed when your hand cupped his jaw, another one sneaking onto his occiput, slowly rubbing circles. 

━ You’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’. ━ He declared amazed, carefully resting down his body over yours. 

You still, up to this moment, couldn’t believe what just had happened. The months of rage and scuffles ended in his office, on the floor. Nearly naked. 

His scent was stronger than ever before – a specific brand of aftershave or a cologne? Nonetheless, it smelled like burned wood, like a campfire on a summer night. Perhaps maybe because of that you felt safe in Ghost’s embrace. 

Since you laid down your head on his chest, he couldn’t stop touching your hair. The lieutenant played with the loose strands of it, flicking between his coarse fingers. 

He had already given you his warm jacket, which you gladly put on and snuggled against his side, like a big teddy bear. One of your shaking legs, hooked over his. Simon pushed you even closer with his arm wrapped around your back. 

━ So ━ Simon spoke softly, making sure you hadn’t fallen asleep prior to it ━ you still angry with me, eh?

━ Still debating about that, Lt. 

━ Quit teasin’, bonnie. 

You giggled like a foolish teenager again, your head adjusting on top of his chest. The lieutenant placed his palm over yours and you could observe how his ribcage was opening up and slowly falling down. 

God, this shouldn’t feel so good. 

━ Simon, shouldn’t we finish the reports? 

━ Yeah, in a minute. Let’s stay like that a lil’ longer.

[solitablvd]

The Blood Moon

**Minors DNI**

Pairing: Vampire!Javier Escuella x Vampire Slayer!Reader

Summary: With the blood moon's crimson glow tapestrying over the night, you, an experienced vampire slayer on the hunt, find exactly who you're looking for.

Warnings: Human/Vampire Relationship, vampire smut, vampire bites, unprotected p in v, v fingering, marking, blood sucking/drinking, partial mind control, making out, nsfw

Word Count: 3.6k AO3 Link

The wooden porch let out a creak under the heel of your leather boot as you shifted to lean against the railing. The scene before you was a grim, but unfortunately familiar one. Wooden casket, red roses, and tears. You had been in the game so long you had become numb to these situations now.

“For all people are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of the Lord endures forever, just as the memory of dear Grace. Blessed be the life of Grace Barlow, who now lives in eternal peace. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.” The priest gives a final sign of the cross to the crowd before him. You allowed your fingers to move from your head to your chest, then shoulder to shoulder before bringing the rosary that laid upon your chest up to your lips for a final kiss in unison with the crowd.

As the service finished, you made your way down the porch steps as those who were once sitting in rows began to file into the grieving family’s home to await the burial. Walking down the short aisle, you nodded to the priest as he passed you by.

Taking a deep breath, you approached Grace’s husband, Peter. He stood above his deceased wife, staring down at her with eyes red from everlasting tears. As the spurs on your boots clinked, he glanced briefly behind him at you before shifting his attention back to his wife. “You made it.”

You nodded, joining beside him, “Apologies for missing the first half of the service Mr. Barlow. A farmer just North of here said he saw a mysterious male figure near his barn last night. Then found one of his goats with the blood completely drained from it in the early morning. Had to bring in a priest to bless the place, but anyway— I think it might be who you’re looking for.”

Before he could respond you looked down at Grace before you. Her face, though flushed from all its color, looked peaceful. She wore a long, lavender dress, with a matching ascot that was no doubt placed to cover the scar she received from her assailant.

“May I?” You asked Peter. He nodded somberly, placing a gentle hand on Grace’s ascot and pulling it down slightly to reveal her neck. As you suspected, the scarred fang marks were still visible on her pale skin. Her skin was ice cold, but you had touched enough deceased bodies to remain indifferent. You brushed your fingers over the scar.

The bite of a vampire.

“I didn’t get a good look at it.” Peter began, “It was late. I–I told Grace not to go out so late, but she—” His voice shook. “She went anyway, almost as if she was bewitched by that—”

“I understand.” You nodded earnestly. “Not to worry though, if the same one was lurking just North of here, he can’t be too far.” You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’ll take care of it.”

Peter took Grace’s hand once more before muttering, “You better. I am paying you after all.” He placed a final delicate kiss on her skin before closing the wooden casket altogether.

With the shut of the casket you gave a solemn goodbye before turning away, making your way through the family’s home. The sorrowful faces that gathered had no effect on you. They had once upon a time, but that was long ago. When you first began vampire slaying, every case felt personal. You made promises to grieving masses that you couldn’t always keep. Over time you had learned how to steel yourself against the pain of others. You were given your task and you executed these tasks with nothing less than precision and duty. Leaving the residence, you lifted yourself onto your horse and made your way Northbound.

On your journey, you stopped by the local gunsmith in the town of Valentine to ensure you had the right supplies for the night’s hunt. Hunting a vampire would take more than prayers or garlic as many often believe. You hitched your horse, gave her a sweet pat and entered the gunsmith to a familiar face.

“Ah, the vampire slayer.” The shopkeep, Ralph, smiled knowingly, “You haven’t been here in a while. The usual I suppose?” You answered his question affirmingly. He went to the locked wooden box on the wall to grab your ammunition.

“I’ve been out in the plains near Blackwater.” You explained, “I caught word of a woman who was left for dead just outside the perimeter of her home just South of here. Had two holes in her neck. Widower offered to pay me a sizable amount for the bastard’s head.”

Ralph placed a box of pure silver bullets in front of you. “Well, this should do the trick alright.” You picked up one of the bullets to examine it while Ralph continued. “Take the whole box, you might need it; heard it’s a blood moon tonight.”

Your mind began to race as you replaced the lead bullets in your revolver for the silver ones. A blood moon meant the perfect night for hunting a vampire, but for all the wrong reasons. Any vampire out on a blood moon would no doubt be looking for a body to feast on which meant the hunt shouldn’t take much time. The energy of the blood moon however, would also amplify their power. With this in mind, you placed your revolver back into your holster and kept the box of the gleaming bullets.

You began your journey on horseback, heading further North into the West Grizzlies where you suspected the vampire would continue heading, based on where he was last seen. You crossed over the Dakota River and ventured into the increasing vision of trees.

You slowed your horse down to a trot as you spotted tracks of drying blood on the dirt ground, shining in the golden glow of the sunset. The sunsetting meant your time would soon become limited. You hopped off your horse to follow the tracks on foot. You kept one hand on your holster, ready to draw at any given moment before coming across the source of the blood.

The trail of blood led to a large rock, where behind it laid a lifeless doe. The doe appeared gaunt and discolored. This was no work of any ordinary predator. The two holes on the animal’s neck only proved your theory. You brushed your fingers along the two apertures, the blood was still tacky. He couldn’t be too far.

You continued on the trail, slowing your horse to a stop once the sun had finally set. You took out the sharp knife in your holster, holding the edge of the blade to your palm before taking a gasping breath and slicing into yourself.

“Fuck,” You whispered with a wince at the familiar pain. The cut was not deep, but enough to draw a bit of your crimson blood for your next step. You grabbed a white linen handkerchief out of your satchel and first wiped it along your neck to catch your scent. You then used the fabric to wipe the trickling blood off your palm. Once the fabric had been smeared with enough blood you tossed it to the ground below you: the perfect bait.

You strayed from the trail to head into the line of trees to set up a camp for the night, allowing whatever blood was left on your palm to trickle onto the ground below. The light of the moon had already begun to shine, appearing darker than any traditional night. Soon the light would shine red with the blood moon.

You stoked your fire, wanting the smoke to attract your unwanted, yet desired visitor, and rinsed the dried blood from your palm with water from the nearby stream.

The howling of the night’s wind grew as the time passed, the moon becoming a copper version of its original self. You remained seated alongside your campfire, staring at the dancing flames and leaping embers. Your vigilance persisted as the moon grew more and more red through the night, until it was eventually so vivid that it reminded you exactly why it was called a blood moon. The moonlight shone on your makeshift campsite, but was not exactly the inviting kind. The stream nearby now looked like a stream of blood flowing in the shape of veins. The ground before you that was once brown now appeared a wine-red hue.

The nearby rustling of leaves caused you to snap your attention to the line of trees ahead of you. You attempted to spot any figure of some sort, but before you could there was another rustle of leaves behind you. You quickly whirled to face where the noise came from. He was circling you like a predator stalking its prey.

You gulped, but kept a brave face as the snapping of a twig whipped your attention behind you once more. This time you stood quickly, facing the line of trees. In an instant, the creature appeared standing before you.

The vampire was far more elegant than you were used to. Clad in black jeans and a white button-up shirt, saturated in the moon's glow, he wore a long black duster embellished with gleaming golden buttons. His hair was meticulously tied back, effortlessly framing his regal features. His eyes were dark, with a glint of red that you briefly wondered was from the shine of the moon.

“I believe you dropped this, miss.” He spoke, his words coming out like silk as he presented the white handkerchief soiled in your blood. He flashed a smile and even in the scarlet-tinted night you could see the knifelike edges of his fangs.

A beat passed as you contemplated your options. Shooting wasn’t one, at least not yet; he’d easily evade any bullet with the speed he’s displayed, perhaps it would even make him more combative. Your revolver remained in the holster hanging off your hips as you made your next move.

“Oh— it must’ve fallen on my ride.” You spoke innocently, maintaining distance between the two of you.

“Perhaps,” He shrugged nonchalantly, keeping his gaze steady as he looked you up and down.

“Perhaps not.” He allowed the handkerchief to slip from his fingers onto the scarlet floor as he sauntered slowly towards you, “A chance encounter with a vampire sl—”

Those words were your signal to quickly draw your weapon, the metal barrel now aimed directly as his chest.

He stopped in his place, raising his hands in surrender with a smoky chuckle. “Let me finish.”

Instead, you cocked the hammer of the revolver, raising another chuckle from the man, “Ay, no, no. Amada, you don’t want to do that,” His playful, yet alluring demeanor continued. His words were laced with an enticing charm that you were trying to ignore.

As he looked down the barrel of your weapon, you met his gaze once more. His eyes bore into you with what you could only describe as an insatiable desire. The glint of red in his eyes intensified as he spoke smoothly, “You’re not going to pull that trigger.”

You felt your hand stiffen involuntarily against the cold metal. You gasped lightly with realization— he was manipulating your mind. His entrancing words began to echo in your mind. Your finger shook against the trigger as you attempted to resist his unearthly enchantment. This supernatural compulsion was one you had only ever heard of, but never encountered.

You widened eyes only seemed to elicit another smile from the vampire, his tongue quickly brushing over the edge of one of his fangs, “What? Never seen it before? My little trick is… quite something, isn’t it?”

He kept his eyes connected with yours as he made his way beside you. You felt frozen in place, your weapon now pointed at the dark line of trees. He stopped when he was at your elbow, not close enough to touch you, but the pull of his nearby presence was beginning to feel intoxicating.

“Drop it,” He whispered. You felt the words continue to echo in your mind as the weapon slipped right through your hand, dropping onto the floor. His gaze felt magnetic. You couldn’t look away, but you knew this had to be the source of this supernatural compulsion.

As your hands fell to your side, he stepped in front of you. You felt your roles reverse. He had now disarmed your weapon and your will with only a few enchanting words and a fixed look. You stood in silence under the tapestry of the scarlet eclipse; he was thinking, but of what?

The vampire’s gaze broke for only a second to look down at your lips. In the red moonlight they appeared very tempting to the vampire. Though you didn’t know it, he felt entranced by you too. In a way that he knew couldn’t be supernatural, as you were only a mere mortal, yet he felt as though you had bewitched him somehow. His mouth opened to speak once more, but when his eyes flickered back to yours, they found them already closed; for in that instant, you had shut them tightly, halting his entrancement.

You had broken his compulsion of your mind, yet you still felt caught in his undeniable allure. You didn’t move, not to push him away, not even to grab the silver stake laying by your crackling fire. You wanted to remain as close to him as possible.

“That’s a beautiful necklace,” He spoke again. As his voice brushed against your ear you could hear that he had now moved behind you. Without your sight you allowed yourself to focus on his voice. He spoke sultrily, his words leaving you wanting more. Could he be suggesting what you thought?

Your silver rosary plastered against your chest reflected brightly against the moon’s crimson glow. No vampire could touch the cross’ wearer without getting their skin scorched. He wanted you, that was clear now. He ached to touch you, but couldn’t as long as the rosary remained a barrier on your body.

You allowed your eyes to flutter open, turning only your gaze back towards him. This time you willingly looked into his eyes, wondering if he felt the same burning desire you did. His lips parted as if he were going to speak again, but closed in silent contemplation.

Tenderly, he reached out for your fingertips. Before you could register his touch he was recoiling with a sharp wince as his skin felt the searing of the cross. Your eyes widened in shock, wondering why he’d risk getting burned. You look down at his fingers, the tips now a scorched black, then back up to him with sympathy. Your compassion was unexpected as you felt an odd sense of admiration for his action.

“It’ll be worth it,” He reassured you in a murmur, “Just for one touch.”

A blooming sensation filled your body, your cheeks flushing at his words. You could feel yourself pulse with want— with need. You both remained silent as you raised your hands to unclamp the necklace. Your heart raced as you let the rosary slip off your chest onto the wine-red ground below.

He took one of your hands in his and you felt his touch for the first time. His touch was cold this time, yet held an ethereal quality. He pressed a tender kiss against the top of your hand, then held onto it as his kisses traveled delicately up your arm. Every kiss was intoxicating and filled with his passion. As his lips pressed against your shoulder, he slowed, allowing you time to tilt your head to give him complete access to your neck.

“I think…” He muttered against the bare skin of your neck, his breath sending a thrilling shiver down your spine. His lips grazed you as he continued, “I deserve a taste.”

An involuntary, trembling moan escaped your lips as his began to kiss your nape ever so gently. You looked up to the blood red moon, its deep red glow reflecting onto both your bodies. You gasped lightly as he nipped you lightly, holding himself back from devouring you altogether.

You brought your hand up to caress him as he continued to kiss hungrily at the crook of your neck. You craved more of him, pulling him in closer to let him know you needed more. He groaned against your neck as his hands began to explore your curves. You arched your back against his touch. He rubbed his hands over your breasts, then moved down to your hips to press your bodies closer together. His touch was sending a burning sensation throughout your body, you could feel yourself begin to throb at the feeling.

He used his hands to turn you to face him, keeping his hands rubbing up and down your hips in harmony with your arms now placed on his biceps. He kissed up your jawline, eventually finding home against your open lips. He kissed you hungrily as you returned the carnal lust. He was addicting, like nothing you had ever felt before. You moaned against his lips with desperation.

You hooked a leg around his waist, pulling him in closer. The movement was all he needed to effortlessly lift you, his hands getting lost in the ruffles of your long skirt as you cupped his face to kiss him deeply, your lips growing more and more needy.

Amongst your palpable insatiableness, he gracefully pressed you against a tree. You moved your hands down and began frantically undoing the lace of your bodice. Feeling your hands, the vampire took the liberty of assisting you by yanking at the lace, pulling it off of you easily before tossing it onto the floor along with his duster.

He took his lips off yours only to turn his attention back to your neck, grazing it with careful passion as he worked his way down to your collarbones, and lifting you higher to nip at your breasts. You threw your head back against the tree in pleasure, arching your back against what you could feel was his hardening cock below. He kept one hand beneath you, supporting his hips to keep you pinned up against the tree, but allowed his other hand to slip between your thighs

Your nails raked across the back of his white button-up shirt as you gripped him desperately, the burning fire becoming overwhelming as his fingers pushed past your undergarments to play with your wetness. He continued to suck on your breasts, marking you as his own. The combined sensations left you pleading for more.

“Please,” You whimpered, arching against his fingers, begging for him to enter. You felt him smile against your skin, his eyes flickering up to yours with contemptment at your desperation.

He gave in, letting one of his fingers slip into you. You trembled at the feeling, gripping him tighter. He moved his finger up and down at an achingly slow pace, enjoying how you threw your head back, looking up at the red night sky, muttering please, please, please as if you were pleading to God for more. He answered your prayers by gently slipping another finger up into you. He moved up to nip back at your neck, enjoying the vibrations that came with your needy moans.

The scent of blood he got from your neck became dizzying for him. He moaned deeply against your neck, pulling back, but keeping his forehead pressed against your collarbone in what appeared to be frustration.

“Eres una dulzura,” He breathed out. He slipped his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his lips to taste sensually before reaching down to undo his jeans. He swiftly pushed his already hardened cock into you with fervor, causing you to let out a sharp gasp. With that, you pushed your lips back against his hungrily and raked your fingers through his hair.

You arched your back against him as he continued to pound into you. His rhythm quickened with approval as you grew incoherent against his lips. He let his hand slip down to rub your sensitive clit in circles, causing you to buck your hips with eagerness as you began to moan noisily at his touch. He didn’t let up, keeping in time with his thrusting as you felt your bodying nearing its peak.

His pace quickened as the pressure within him increased, needing release. He grunted against your neck, knowing he wouldn’t last much longer. With a final thrust, you felt him still inside you as he reached his climax, the hot liquid filling you fervently as he rode out his high. He groaned loudly as he moved his fingers quickly against your clit as you let him know you were going to come too.

Just as you reached your peak, you felt his fangs scrape the delicate skin of your neck before puncturing your skin completely. You cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure. The bite sent a powerful force through your body as you reached your climax. Your body clenched with intensity as he sucked on your neck with an insatiable hunger. You quivered against him, clinging onto his body for support.

He roughly brought his mouth away from your neck, as if holding himself back. He panted heavily, the blood— your blood— dripping from his fangs. His tongue quickly brushed over his lips to collect the dripping blood as he didn’t want any of it to go to waste.

He slipped himself out of you before gently placing you back onto the ground, though you remained leaned against the tree behind you for support. He continued to plant sinfully slow kisses along your collarbone as you breathed heavily, looking up and silently praying the red moon above would forget to go down and keep this night eternal.

[melodygatesauthor]

A Long Night

Blue Jones X f!Reader

Not Beta-read - Requested by @campingwiththecharmings

Summary

Head Orderly, Blue Jones, comes into your room with a new medication that you don't recall being prescribed by your psychiatrist.

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, sex pollen, dubious consent, patient/orderly sex, power imbalance, orderly Blue, asylum Blue, reader is asylum patient, unrealistic amounts of cum, no refractory period, cum smearing, messy sex, p in v creampie, coming in pants, porn with a little plot, rough sex, spit kink

Word Count: 2.9k

Head Orderly Blue Jones was in your room right as you were waking up. You noticed how he closed the door and locked it behind himself, pulling the privacy cover over the little window you used to look out into the hall of the asylum sometimes. This was unusual, and immediately you felt that nagging in the back of your mind that you should be looking for an escape. You’d been so well behaved since you arrived; there was no reason for him to be in your room.

Your gaze fell to his hand, noticing that he had an inhaler he’d brought with him. He approached your bed slowly, looking at you with a smug grin, which to you meant he was up to something horrible. Blue was known for his lewd practices within the asylum. He looked down at you as you climbed off the bed and stood in front of him, trying your best to appear unafraid.

“Good morning.” He looked over the inhaler before turning his gaze back to you, “it’s time for your medication babygirl. There’s this new one the doctors want you to take.”

“My psychiatrist didn’t say anything about that,” you protested, “I’m not taking it.”

Blue pressed his lips together tightly and then licked them, narrowing his eyes on you in a threatening way. You knew that look, and knew that nothing good could come after it. He tilted his head to the side and huffed out an irritated sigh. You gulped harshly, feeling the fear pool in your gut like a heavy weight. He wasn’t above psychological and physical torture to make girls behave, and you knew that. Regardless, you had no idea what the contents of that inhaler would do to you, and you were determined to keep it that way.

“I do so much for you. I know you know that.” His tone was soft and yet still laced in a horrific darkness. “Why are you going to start acting up now? Huh?”

He licked his lips again, face getting so, so close to yours. His voice was rising, along with his very obvious aggravation at your disobedience. Blue didn’t like any sort of defiance, and you weren’t giving him what he wanted. You kept your eyes on him, despite your mind telling you to look away. You were afraid that if you lost sight of him for even a second, he would strike.

“Come here.” He said roughly, reaching out and grabbing your jaw in his strong hand. 

One of your hands reached up to grab his wrist as he brought the inhaler toward your face, and your other hand desperately latched over his enclosed fist. You struggled against his strong grip, grunting while trying to pry his fingers open. You knew that whatever was inside the canister could spell your death. You had to find a way to overcome his strength.

“Come on!” He yelled, “you’re going to take this whether you want to or not so-”

You got the upper hand, kneeing his inner thigh, and managing to steal the inhaler from his hand. You were squeezing so hard over the apparatus that you activated the canister in his face by mistake. A dark crimson cloud puffed out of the inhaler and you watched Blue breathe it in entirely.

The room became deafeningly silent. He let go of you, and you dropped the inhaler on the floor with a loud clunk. He glared at you for a moment, clearly trying to process what had just happened. You had no idea what you just did, but understood that this couldn’t end well for you. Either you’d just killed him, which meant you were going to get lobotomized or outright executed, or you did something that was going to hurt him and he was going to make you pay for it later. You covered your mouth nervously, eyes widened in terror.

Blue pursed his lips at you, agitation etched in every part of his face. He was still alive, and he didn’t seem to be in any pain. You felt a little relief. He shook his head slowly, sniffing while he brushed the backside of his hand under his nostrils. His gaze stayed on you, like a predator looking at its prey. His eyes trekked over your torso and to the floor before shooting back up at you. You gasped involuntarily and stepped back.

“You really think you did something there don’t you babygirl?” His tone was taunting. You really fucked up.

“W-what was in that?” You asked anxiously, failing to keep your voice from trembling.

You watched Blue’s cheeks started turning a shade of dusty pink while he removed his jacket.

“Fuckin’ hot in here isn’t it?” He tossed his jacket onto the floor, leaving him in only his white tee.

“It’s-it’s not that hot.” Your voice sounded vacant while you stared in awe.

He licked his lips hungrily while he looked at you. You watched his pupils dilate, making his eyes appear black. Blue paced slowly, airing his shirt out and keeping his eyes trained only on you. You started to back up toward the wall. If only he hadn’t been occupying the space between you and the only door out of there, you might’ve been able to make a break for it. He followed you while you continued backward, trying desperately not to trip over yourself.

He lowered his gaze, looking up at you from beneath his lashes.

“I need to fuck you, gonna fill you with everything I have,” he spoke in a low growl. His wide shoulders were heaving with each breath, “come here.”

His words hung in the air and forced a panicked breath to escape your lips. You were getting closer to the corner of the room, and once he had you there you knew you were done. You saw him reach a hand down to grab around the hard bulge in his pants. He dragged his palm over his erection while he drew nearer to you. Blue moaned at his own touch.

You shook your head, “no, Blue, please.”

Whatever was in that inhaler was clearly making him aroused, more aroused than he could handle. You remembered suddenly that it was originally intended for you. You knew he’d slept with some of the other girls in the facility; a lot of them had talked about it. It would be a lie to say you hadn’t thought about it yourself, and the idea of him taking you was exciting. They all talked about how fucking good he felt and how big he was. Judging by the shadow in his pants, they weren’t lying. This wasn’t how you wanted it though. In his current state, Blue was going to cause you real harm, you could see it in his eyes.

“Stop walking away from me and come here,” he said between gritted teeth, pointing his index finger at the ground.

“No.”

You darted to his left, thinking foolishly that you might be able to get to the door in time, but he grabbed you, pulling you back against his chest. You shouted and wriggled desperately while he brought you to the floor, managing to pin your flailing hands above your head with only one of his. His fingers were scalding hot against your wrists.

He buried his face in your neck while he talked to you in a low growl.

"I know you've been talking to the other girls about how bad you want me, now's your chance babygirl so just shut up and take it." His free hand was grabbing the waist of your pants and fighting to pull them down.

You noticed that he was eagerly grinding his hips against you, sliding his clothed erection against your inner thigh. You couldn’t move, he was pressed too tightly against your body and when you tried to yell he picked his head up and slotted his lips on yours to silence you. Blue stole your protests until they turned into moans, continuing to thrust himself over you. His kissing was sloppy and drool started coating your chin. He was nearly vibrating, as if his entire body was surging with electricity.

“When I get into those fucking pants, gonna fuck you wide open. You’re not even gonna remember your name when I’m done with you.”

Blue let out a strangled sound as his body shook violently. His mouth was open on the side of your face, spit rolling down your cheek as his hot breath punched out of his lungs and onto your skin. You felt the wet spot that formed between your legs where he’d been prodding against you. He came in his fucking pants. Blue Jones  was so worked up that he came in his goddamn pants.

“All that for you to just…” you sniffed out a laugh, feeling foolish for panicking so hard.

Relief washed over you. You’d been truly afraid that Blue was going to hurt you. When he’d said he was going to fuck you wide open, you thought he might actually deliver on that promise. You tried to push him off of you, but he was still holding onto you tight. His eyes turned up and met yours, gaze still hooded in lust.

“Stay still,” he ordered, letting go of your wrists, “I need more.”

He started tugging at your pants again, but you took that opportunity to slide back and foolishly try to run again, another big mistake. Blue got up quickly and grabbed you by the back of your shirt. He was strong, made even stronger by the mystery medication he’d inhaled, and dragged you back to your bed despite your protests. He pushed you down face first into the mattress and closed in behind you.

“I told you to stay still,” he repeated in a low growl, “I’m not done playing with you yet.”

He pulled your pants down quickly. You felt him fumbling while he rushed to do the same for himself. He didn’t even have a chance to slide them off before he was pressing the thick head of his cock to your entrance. You had a feeling that you weren’t going to be able to get away, even if you did manage to get him off of you and make it to the door. Surely it was locked, and the key was in his long discarded jacket on the floor. You were trapped there.

He plunged himself deep into your wet heat and started fucking into you ravenously. His hands were painfully grabbing onto your waist, leaving divots in their wake. You held onto your bedding tight, balling it up in your fists. When he said he was going to fuck you wide open he meant it. You’d never felt anyone so big or so…good. Despite your initial fears, he was hitting all the right spots and sending you into a dumb-fucked state that you couldn’t shake.

“Feels so good babygirl-fuck,” he rasped from behind you, snapping his hips against your rear, “hope you’re ready for a long night. This would’ve been a lot better for you if you’d just taken your medicine like you were supposed to.”

You couldn’t speak, you could only make unintelligible noises while you drooled into the mattress. Blue was enjoying this all too much, you could tell by the way his hands trekked over your skin. You felt him lean forward, pushing you down further, nearly flattening you. His lips touched your spine through your shirt.

“Take this off,” he didn’t stop grinding into you while he pulled your shirt up to your neck, “take it off.”

You reached up, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it on the floor. He leaned over and wrapped his arms around you, his hot skin burning you to your core.

“You’ve got the tightest little pussy babygirl-fuck-I’m just gonna fill you up over and over okay? Just gonna-oh-fahh.”

He was coming again, and this time you were too, the way the head of his cock dragged over that spot deep inside of you was maddening. He was twitching wildly into you, cum squirting over the sides and down your thighs in a hot dripping mess. Blue kept fucking through it, never slowing his pace even though you started yelling for him to stop. You were feeling oversensitive and you needed to catch your breath.

But he wouldn’t stop.

He pulled out just long enough to turn you around, grab your sides and shove you back onto the bed. He climbed over you, smiling and licking his lips while he positioned himself between your cum-sticky legs. He hurriedly took off his pants now, murmuring something about how they were in his way.

“So pretty, all fucked out, my pretty babygirl.” He dove into the hollow of your neck hungrily, “n-need more.”

“M-more? I can’t take-oh fuck.”

He was inside of you again, slamming his hips at an unforgiving pace that left you grabbing onto the sides of the bed for stability. You were oversensitive, and you felt tears streaming down your cheeks. He ripped his shirt off without slowing his thrusts. Blue fell forward, pressing his sweaty chest flush against yours. You could feel his heat burning against your breasts.

“I can’t stop, don’t you understand? I can’t stop until you’re full. Gotta make sure you’re good and full. All mine. You’re mine, okay?”

His breath was shaking and ragged as he crashed his mouth into yours with a force that made a muffled scream escape your lungs. You felt his tongue glide over the seam of your lips. He wasn’t asking nicely for you to open yourself up to him, he was demanding. You complied, what else could you do? He was flattened against you, trapping you in place.

He kissed you like a man starved. You could hardly breathe with how heavily he was panting into your mouth. You turned your head, gasping for air desperately. His hand flew up and grabbed your throat. His nearly black eyes darted between yours.

“Open your fucking mouth,” his voice was like gravel in your ear.

You obeyed, knowing your options were limited, dropping your jaw down as far as you could. He squeezed around your windpipe with his strong hand, choking your airway while he dropped a glob of spit down over your tongue. You arched your chest up, panicking when you couldn’t take in a full breath. He finally loosened his fingers and you gulped in what little air you could before he started kissing you again.

He shuddered a moan into your mouth, tongue finally softening, melting into yours repeatedly. You felt his cock hardening with his third orgasm. He whined this time when he came, and you tasted his salty tears as they fell down his face, sliding over your tongues.

“Just feels so good, feels so good baby,” he kissed you again, lips smacking noisily, “your little pussy is squeezing me so tight, oh you’re just loving this aren’t you?”

You were. It had taken you a moment to get over the initial shock of him taking you so suddenly, but you had to admit that it felt mind-numbingly delicious to have him fucking you so hard, and wanting you so desperately. You felt your own climax hit again like a wave crashing over your body and making you go limp. Your mind went white while he dragged his thick shaft on that sweet spot repeatedly. He was still so fucking hard, and showing no signs of stopping. You tried to push him off of you now, the oversensitivity making you feel like you were going to go into cardiac arrest any second.

“Please, please it’s too much it’s-ah!”

He pulled out of you, and you felt his hot cum gush out of your cunt.

“Just making room, not enough room,” he was panting like a dog, cupping his hand under your hole.

You watched in awe as he brought a huge handful of the white, sticky substance up and held it over your torso. You were in awe watching it drip between his fingers. He slapped it onto your abdomen before thrusting himself inside of you once more. His eyes were half hooded when he looked at you again. You bit your bottom lip against the ache, trying not to cry out and alert the entire asylum.

He pressed his chest to yours again. The slick of his cum was sliding your bellies against each other with each forward snap of his hips. Blue’s face was buried again in the crook of your neck, kissing and whimpering while he fucked harder.

“It’s too much!” You cried, trying to push him off of you.

“Shut the fuck up.” He said harshly against your ear, “you’re done when I say so, and you’re not done until I’ve emptied every last drop I have into you, got it?”

You gasped when he nipped your earlobe.

“Y-yes Blue.”

“Good girl.”

AO3 LINK

Blue Jones Masterlist

Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed): @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @my-secret-shame, @alexxavicry, @ryebreadsworld, @welcometostayingawake, @jake-g-lockley, @campingwiththecharmings, @steven-grants-world, @bloodredwolfsbane, @minigirl87, @peachbear-art, @poppyflower-22, @dameronshandholder, @y0urvalent1ne, @ninebluehearts, @gay4magneto, @midgardian-witch, @loki-hargreeves, @kittyofalltrades, @welcometostayingawake, @thatmomwitchfriend, @abbessolute, @campingwiththecharmings, @romanarose, @grumpyahjumma, @moonknightly, @pimosworld, @purplefancybitch

[splatixboi]

Promoting my canon divergent Fangxin Guoshi fic again. (In hopes that I’ll be motivated to work on it.)

V !!Link Below!! V

“Gathering Your Scattered Petals”

A partial, & more gruesome, retelling of Tgcf, beginning from the arc of Fangxin & Lang Qianqiu...

“After the events as Fang Xin Guoshi leading to his execution by Lang Qianqiu, instead of being buried alive in a coffin for 100 years with a stake through his heart, Lang Qianqiu opts to cut and scatter Xie Lian’s body far away to get rid of him for good.

He is unaware of Xie Lian’s ex-godhood, his shackles, and how they keep him alive no matter what injuries he faces.”

…Leading up to the discovery of the banished former God’s severed hand, by none other than one Crimson Rain Sought Flower.

(I’m sorry if this promo post is too long and cluttered, I was just trying to make it look more appealing and eye catching. 🥹 Anyways, if you’re reading this I hope you enjoy the fic, comments are always appreciated. <3)

[nedlittle]

everyone give it up for another year of flops, disappointments, and failures!! i read some absolute dogshit this year and now i have to share my suffering with the rest of you

the bangalore detectives club by harini nagendra ⭐

Why go through all the trouble of setting up that plot thread only to retract it at the next possible moment? That's not even a red herring. That's padding for a mystery that apparently took 13 years to cook and still came out fucking raw.

vampires of el norte by isabel cañas ⭐

Isabel Cañas writes like she's being held at gunpoint by a thesaurus.

the plague letters by v. l. valentine ⭐

I have read books with nonsense plots and books with horrible characters and books that read like a first draft done on the back of a napkin in crayon, but never, NEVER EVER have i read a book where the author decides to sprinkle in the fact that one of the protagonists can see ghosts at the halfway point.

yellowface by r. f. kuang ⭐.5

Yellowface, more than anything, rings hollow as a critique of privilege when written by someone who went to an elementary school where one year cost more than all four years of my university tuition combined.

everyone knows your mother is a witch by rivka galchen ⭐.75

Overall, I do not recommend this book except as a sleep aid.

manhunt by gretchen felker-martin ⭐.75

I weep for the potential Manhunt would have had if Gretchen Felker-Martin's Internet access had been cut off while she was writing.

the petticoat men by barbara ewing ⭐.75

This is a book your mom mentions she read for her book club because she wants you to know that she read a book about gay people.

the crimson ribbon by katherine clements ⭐⭐

The issue isn't that Clements decided to make Lizzie Poole gay. She decided to make Lizzie Poole gay so that her eventual execution would be more tragic. This isn't even a bad-faith reading of the text.

a rustle of silk by alys clare ⭐⭐

you don't need to be good at your job or care about what you're writing, you just have to have enough ideas to be able to wring every shred of life from your original gimmick until publishing decides they're no longer interested.

lovers at the chameleon club, paris 1932 by francine prose ⭐⭐

Francine, you did not make up those characters or events. You changed the names after reading a couple of history books on Paris.

[mrxcreepypastamadness]

Here's my official reveal of King Virtual, no it's not King Candy/Turbo from Wreck-It-Ralph, at all.

King Virtual

Inspired by: Mr. Virtual created by Stupendous Snart

Appearances:

• Candy Land (Original King Kandy)

• Friday Night Funkin': Sugar Rush Madness V2

• Jubileena's January Night Massacre (Upcoming)

• Vs. Sugar Hallow FNF Port V1 (Cancelled)

• Candy Land: The Great V1RTU4L Experience (Upcoming Candy Land Creepypasta)

• Curse of the Crimson King (Upcoming)

• Friendly Enmity (AU upcoming.)

Aliases:

• Mr. King Virtual (most commonly/Non-Canon name)

• King V

• King Vlad the V

• Vlad

• Vlad the Halocaust King

• The Crimson King

• Various Fake Identities

Affiliation:

• Torri Ferdinand (Police officer/Enemy)

• Sammy Henderson (victim)

Age:

• 63 (at time of death)

• 102

Species:

• Human (formerly)

• Poltergeist

Gender: Male

Height:

• 6'3 (Human)

• 14'5 (Current)

Weight: ???

Eye Color: Black

Date of Birth: 666 A.D.

Date of Death: October 13th (Day of his execution ordered by a new King that saved everyone from mass extermination.)

Place of birth: ???

Occupation:

• King/tyrant ruler of his crimson kingdom (Formerly)

• Serial Killer

Debut: Friday Night Funkin': Sugar Rush Madness

About:

King Virtual is a Virtual Boy oriented EXE inspired by Mr. Virtual. He is the antagonist of the upcoming horror series "Curse of the Crimson King" and "Candy Land: The V1RTU4L Experience".

Biography:

King Virtual was once a normal king and a tyrant simply under the name "Vlad the V", he lived a life of struggle and torment before one day he snaps, burning down his whole entire kingdom and watching the halocaust of those he knew die before his very own eyes, the screams of his subjects, servants and peasants caused him a sence of pure bloodlust and euphoria, and this down life of a sinful act, becoming a ruthless dictator and serial killer once again under the alias of "Vlad the V", his killings would involve him mutilating his victims in various ways, and carving a large satanic temple symbol on their chests before burying them in secret locations.

His killings caught attention to King Thomas Ferdinand the III, who immediately took action, started a war in hunting a psychopath, who, after months would eventually be caught in October 13th, the war would lead the king to Vlad into the dungeon where he can be current held for awile until his Judgement Day, where Vlad the V would be eventually executed, burning him on a stake he was tied to, and eventually Vlad the V would bring a curse upon everyone where he would be possessing a Virtual Boy console, where they would be showing of the latest "Virtual Boy" System.

Unknowing to Torri Ferdinand, Vlad the V's soul would become tethered to the system in death, transforming a red gangly and seemingly shapeless poltergeist.

Months after his death, Vlad the V takes the name "King V", a giant phantom which took a twisted form of King Kandy, having renounced his previous life to attain one singular goal, Kill Officer Torri Ferdinand. He wasn't yet aware of his abilities till an unsuspecting Sammy Henderson had played a very system he inhabited, this allowed Vlad the V to follow him, just as he did to his previous victims, which lead him to attempting his old halocaust ways, Sammy would experience months of nightmares and unexplained origins and paranoia, till one day, he was able to see him, then he struck, He mutilated not his physical form, but the very soul that inhabited his body, leaving it a mangled corpse of what once was "Sammy Henderson", in doing this, he was able to replace him and tether his form to the body of Sammy, using it as a vessel, the feeling of flesh, the smell of the air, it was all familiar, but completely foreign to him at the same time, he has returned to the physical plane, and he LOVED it...

But this feeling, this vessel, it would fall short, as only mere days after he attained his new body, it would begin to rot away, the skin peeling off, the face deteriorating into a grotesque smile which matched that of his new face, and then, without any warning, he was back in the headset, he had stayed tethered to the cursed object he had made a curse with, and he was no closer to achieving his goal, however, with a newfound knowledge of his abilities, he would just need to try again, and again, until one day, Ferdinand would die by his hands...

Voicelines:

Friday Night Funkin'; Sugar Rush Madness (Hellish Hollows):

• "Would you like to try again?

"HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!"

• "HMHMHMHOHOHOHAHAHAHA!"

• "Such a Bold Knight in shining armor, yet...such a frail mind...HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

• "Thank you for freeing me...

BOY..."

• "Now you can truly be with your Girlfriend...FOREVER..."

Gallery:

King Virtual (GF form)

[gravesung-moving]

PINNED ( band au sukuna )

Send "PINNED" for your muse to pin mine against a wall. ( @koseigu )

PERHAPS HE'S BEEN a little mean.

truthfully, he's been busy — they all have with tour season well underway. between press events, rehearsals and shows, it's constant action. it's go go go. none of them expected the level of attention BENEVOLENCE attracted, especially not this fast — suguru always suspected that sukuna would be his lightning in a bottle. how right he turned out to be. inspiration once blocked now flows freely into lyrics and beats that set hearts aflame. the bad boy drummer was the perfect element to round out their group's composition.

the consequence of their packed schedule is a sharp decrease in time to themselves. time, especially, between the two of them. in the past, sukuna would simply carve out time where there was none — delaying or canceling press events for the very legitimate emergency known as piledriving his vocalist into the nearest flat surface — but as of late, suguru has cracked down on these indulgences. they can't afford to be seen as unreliable at this pivotal point in their career.

he also may or may not derive a touch of cruel amusement from frustrating his drummer. especially when he has the opportunity to let his touch linger on sukuna's lower back in public. especially when he sports a turtleneck that shows off his arms, or a half-mesh number with a deep, plunging v-neck, just so that he can indulge in the burning glare sukuna shoots him — and return it with a smile, gaze just as dark. in fact, the reason he's been able to get away with it for so long is that they're almost always in public lately. hard to shove someone up against a wall and lock the door when every room available has people in it.

the chase is thrilling, the thought of what lies at the end of it even more so. it staves off the sleep-deprived exhaustion all of them have suffered over the last weeks. but the wolf on his tail is quick, sharp, and the last few times they've locked eyes, the molten heat in that crimson gaze has reached a point that suguru would put somewhere between laser and the earth's core.

needless to say, the rest of the band makes the executive decision to fuck off for the night. they've already had their celebration anyway — drinks in a large half-circle booth with their manager and crew, certainly filmed by a few cell phones, suguru wedged between shoko and haibara across the table from sukuna. he spares him a few long, half-lidded looks, but otherwise the noise of the group is far too loud for them to speak.

utahime mentions something about keeping the party going at her place; suguru excuses himself to tuck in early and make up for the dozens of hours they've all lost in sleep. the knowing look shoko shoots him tells him that she sees right through his easy lie. he makes sure to disappear into the press of the bar crowd, to stay one step ahead of the man he has been intentionally driving insane. he didn't hear the excuse sukuna gave their group before shoving out the door behind him, and he doesn't particularly care. all he cares about is the tension that spills between them like a gas leak nearing a flame as they take the cab home.

his grip on the leash has been choke-tight for weeks on end. as soon as the door closes behind them, he lets go.

a thread snaps.

it's honestly impressive how quickly sukuna has him up against the wall. the force of it knocks the wind out of him, makes his head spin, the slam of body against drywall probably loud enough to earn him a noise complaint at this hour. suguru takes a moment to catch his breath — fuck, that was hot — and gives sukuna one of his slow, infuriating smiles. ❝ what's the matter, ryomen? you look frustrated. ❞

[ryaiga]

WIP- Price x Reader (x Ghost maybe?)

Yes i know there isn’t a title to this, but wanted to see how others think about it. Here’s a small snippet from the first chapter, kinda aiming for 5k words minimum so it’ll take a bit of time till I feel satisfied with the first chapter. Not to mention college started. A/N: (N/N) Nickname, spacers/dividers by @mmadeinheavenn and @imlevis , not my Gif, found it on google.

Laswell had informed him of the prestigious yet silent soldier that was being considered for his team. He’d lost a recruit in an earlier deployment, one he took to heart. Like many from the past, another scar added, that lay permanent by his chest and the haunting that left him shaking and restless at night, another one failed by his very leadership. Making even the unshakeable captain wake in cold sweats and trembling and to his vices in the attempts to be grounded to earth once more. So to hear that he was getting a new member, that was asl or more skilled than the one before, meant that the military was willing to sacrifice yet another valuable asset if it meant that his team was complete from every angle. A well trained sniper, hardy in hand to hand, a versatile team player yet nothing more than your skills were known. Similar to his lieutenant, You were an enigma. Not even a drop of ink was placed about your past and how you came about the military. Your file had a picture, a battle hardened soldier who completed every mission with ease and precision of high caliber, but no other name besides (N/N). You hadn’t been rewarded with a callsign, no one knew enough about you to even give a title to your talents, unlike Soap or Ghost. Price read up on your previous missions, but to his disappointment (or amazement), every debrief on the details stated that no one saw how you executed. It was always done and over with by the time the rest came to you, and it happens within mere seconds. A regal display of crimson red, a mural of your skill assets that leaves even your lieutenant in fear of ever being your enemy. However, No one was ready for what was to come. For you’d gain a title like no other, a prestige as high as the greatest artist known to man, the difference being that it came not from art. But from your ungodly fits to kill and survive, a display left out to strike fear in any person who wronged you.

Price and his team sat in the helo, adrenaline slowly creeping along their nerves as they awaited for the pilot's call to jump. “Hope we get there in time, wouldn't it be good if we found ‘em KIA. Laswell seemed rather fond of the enigma.” Ghost briefly spoke, an utter breath that Price barely caught. Nodding in response, Price wanted to see what you were. How you handled the predicament you were in, knowing full well if it was one of his men, that they wouldn’t even think of breaking. Could he blame you? Not even your company had knowledge that you were against a group of skilled mercenaries guising as cartels selling American weapons on middle eastern soil. He’d seen what they’ve done to the soldiers before you, they never made it home and if they did, it was a closed casket ceremony. Needless to say you were in desperate need of saving if you even want to think of coming out alive. Ghost reminds the rest that they aren’t to hope too highly of your chances, another tag and body bag might be amongst them on their return. A slim chance that you’d even be crawling out that hellscape. It was a bad omen that Price hated, he didn’t like the thought of a rescue being a failed attempt before it even began. Before he could even try to save the person. The helo landed miles away from the building, too many for the team’s liking. It meant time was wasted traversing the dunes, and time was not on their side.

Sorry for any grammatical errors, it’s my first fanfic ;v;  Any feed back is welcomed!

[singeratlarge]

MONDAY MATINEE MUSIC VIDEO: “You Won’t Be Seeing Me Anymore” by Tim (a.k.a. Chris) Andrews https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8bhFTWVNVU  This was recorded in London, but it has a folk-pop California sound that could’ve come from Laurel Canyon or San Francisco circa 1967 (when this song was made). On a cosmic jukebox this track would play next to It’s A Beautiful Day (“White Bird”) and Love. It was written by Gordon Haskell, Tim/Chris Andrews’s former bandmate from Fleur de Lys. Gordon is often noted for his role in an early incarnation of King Crimson, but beyond that he was a prolific singer-songwriter who, after years as a “starving folksinger,” found success with the hit single “How Wonderful You Are” and the platinum album HARRY’S BAR.

The lyrics are about seasonal love, coming from a young man who travels for a long time and leaves his troubled sweetheart behind. The track (w/Gordon on bass and guitar) was produced by Paul Clay (Ace Kefford, Sharon Tandy, early Yes) and Mike Noble (Joan Armatrading, Fleur de Lys, John Kongos). It was the B-side of “Sad Simon Lives Again,” Tim’s first solo single after he’d signed with renowned producer, promoter, and music executive Tony Hall (who’d plugged The Beatles, Carmen McRae, and later inked Black Sabbath’s first record deal). Tim later reverted to his real name Chris and went on as a solo act and a collaborator with Roger Daltrey, David Essex, and Davy Jones (Monkees).

#timandrews #chrisandrews #gordonhaskell #fleurdelys #kingcrimson #harrysbar #California #LaurelCanyon #SanFrancisco #Love #Itsabeautifulday #whitebird #tonyhall #London #Parlophone #singersongwriter #rogerdaltrey #davidessex #davyjones #monkees #johnnyjblair

[hick4hire]

@peppy-jester —

💀

[ cw g/ore ; b/lood ; d/eath ; v/iolence under read more ]

The world keeps going. Despite his failures, despite his losing streak, despite being set on fucking fire— he was back on his feet and back on the job. Locate. Execute. Locate. Execute. If he didn't relish in every kill, he might have been bored by now.

But as it were, the sight of blood, even at a distance, stimulated something in his brain juuust right. The same way some people found popping bubble wrap— everything about the instant the life was choked out of their miserable, pathetic bodies was endlessly fascinating to the hybrid. Stress relieving, even. A pleasant buzz that held him tightly and soaked him to the bones in sadistic bliss. He could breathe easier. As if he'd absorbed his victim's very life force in gruesome, vampiric fashion.

Everything about this job was a routine by now. A list, a formula, a smooth clean checkmark in a box. This target had been no different. A melee kill, bring back the target's watch, and a picture of the corpse. Simple enough. Nothing remarkable whatsoever.

So, when he's sliding the knife into the target's torso, roughly twisting it as the serrated blade parts skin and pierces meat... The last demon he expects to see when he lifted his head was that damned clown that Crimson had tried to sell back to the Prince of Lust.

A few things happen at once: he freezes, a cold jolt of fear ripping down his spine like an electric shock. His gaze darts to the area behind the doorway, past Fizz, eyes wide open, observing every flicker of movement.

His biology makes this a much easier process than it might be for a regular imp or regular loan shark: a special secondary eyelid dropped, made of a membrane sensitive to heat that allowed him to see a sort of overlay for heat signatures. In short, built in infrared.

From what he understood of regular hell beast snakes, this feature was some sort of convenient adaptation of a special organ that most vipers possessed: something called the pit organ that was usually beside a hellsnake's nostril on the snout. As a child, he'd asked his parents about it, but they knew as much about his particular mutation as he did.

He doesn't see any signs of Asmodeus' presence. Fizz was alone, from what he could tell. The fear completely fades from his face, a sneer replacing his brief stunned expression. "Well, howdy. Don't mind me, clown. I'm just finishing up in here."

The imp in Striker's claws has been pinned down to the floor, Striker's knife still embedded into them. They're squirming and struggling, but Striker doesn't pay it any attention. The desperate clawing at his arms was laughable. He twists the knife further in with a satisfying crunch, staring unblinkingly at Fizz.

"Well, What're you doin' this side 'a town? Didn't think your biddy'd let ya go free range just yet." Striker's grin is wide, something crazed and gleeful entering his eyes. He pulls the knife up out of the imp's chest and with a casual, graceful motion, cleanly slits their throat. He grabs their arm, ripping the watch off them. One checkmark. Two checkmarks. Two boxes ticked. Only one left. Better not take too long with the clown.

"...You ain't gonna do nothin' stupid, are ya, Fizz? You don't got that fight in ya." Striker doesn't even say it aggressively: he says it like he's making small talk about the weather. "I saw ya back in that warehouse, yack. Y'r a performer, not a fighter. Wanna do some shadow puppets for this poor fucker?"

A cruel snicker before he backhands the target, who's miserably choking on their own blood and flopping like a fish. "Better yet, you can feature in his final photo. Bet that'd sell to your freakish fanbase, huh?"

Striker stands up as the body beneath him finally goes limp. "Tch. You seein' this shit? This fucker didn't even properly scratch me. Can you believe that? Our kind was made by Wrath. Satan, for fuck's sake. But ohhh no. Y'all grandparent's left t' the other rings n' got right cushy, didn't ya? Livin' in those big cities, slavin' away for Overlords and royals. Pathetic." He spins the knife in his hand with such force the black blood is flicked off it. "You, though, you're the worst case I've ever seen." Striker takes several slow steps forward, eyes glowing brightly.

"Run." Striker leans forward slightly. His body language shifts to show just how prepared he is to burst into a sprint. Fizz wasn't get out of this without a little game of cat and mouse.

[rukimakino-heirofheart]

🔥 Digimon

🔥Homestuck

🔥Your choice

🔥 Homestuck: Rose/Kanaya is unbelievably fucking boring. Especially in a VN containing a ship as strong as Vriska/Terezi, it's hard for me to believe rosemary managed to get as big as it did, because it genuinely feels like half its fans are making shit up. Like. Okay. Conceptually, I can vibe with the idea; Kanaya is blatantly using Rose as a substitute for her old flame since they're both manipul8ive Light players, and Rose is cool with that because she's obsessed with the idea of being obsessed with. But like???? Nobody ever executes on this???? Including Hussie herself???? It's just a huge wasted opportunity and it feels like half the fandom wants to pretend it's not.

🔥 Digimon: *inhales*

Adventure 99 has almost no redeeming qualities and it's unreal just how far the quality spikes the moment you cross over into 02.

Ruki should have been the main protagonist of Tamers. Takato is built to be a side character, not to wear the goggles.

Dukemon is a bad design, Crimson Mode is even worse, and the fact that he's the only primary color to get a Super Ultimate entirely due to Royal Knights shilling just feels insulting.

Jian doesn't feel like a member of the main cast; he mostly just seems to be there so the Primary Colors have a direct line to the Wild Bunch.

During the D-Reaper arc, Tamers' writing quality takes a very noticeable nosedive and doesn't recover. It's inconsistent as hell (Juri especially), the ending is just kind of Stuff Happening, and the choice to separate the partners last-second was kind of pointless.

The Royal Knights arc of Frontier is leagues better than the Cherubimon arc preceding it.

Despite the Xros Wars anime being very bad, Hunters is good, and Tagiru is a good character.

Adventure 2020 is nowhere near as bad as people like to say it is, and its flaws are completely unrelated to the shit the people on Reddit like to sling at it. Treat it on its own terms as a V-Tamer/Frontier fusion and you'll have a great time.

[kyoya18]

🎃 October Movie Fest 👻

“Fresh” (2022)

Phew. We’ve got a lot to unpack with this one. Story line, acting, pacing, and general insanity with just a dash of dark humor, this one brings a lot to the table (pun intended). And yea, my slight (immense) admiration for Sebastian Stan may help my overall rating, but I really think this was well written and was intriguing enough to keep my eyes glued to the screen. The plot twist was frankly amazing, the planning and execution scenes were satisfying, and the cuts between the brutal scenes and the escape scene really hit home with making the comparison between survival and depravity. The ending left a few questions, such as how’d our main character get back home, where’d the other bad guy at the end go, did they manage to bring the other people involved down, and who is paying for all of our therapy? Honestly though, this one is worth the watch, but I’ll leave that up to everyone else to decide.

Alphabetical Movie Checklist:

- [x] A: Apollo 18

- [x] B: The Boogeyman

- [x] C: Crimson Peak

- [x] D: Don’t Listen

- [x] E: Escape Room

- [x] F: Fresh

- [ ] G:

- [x] H: Hatching

- [x] I: It

- [x] J: Jeepers Creepers Reborn

- [ ] K:

- [x] L: Lights Out

- [ ] M:

- [x] N: No One Will Save You

- [ ] O:

- [x] P: Pet Sematary

- [ ] Q:

- [x] R: Run.

- [x] S: Skinamarink

- [x] T: The Tank

- [x] U: Underwater

- [ ] V:

- [x] W: The Wretched

- [ ] X:

- [ ] Y:

- [ ] Z:

Bonus Films:

- [ ] 1:

- [ ] 2:

- [ ] 3:

- [ ] 4:

- [ ] 5:

[fawnsflowerbed]

Hiii! I've been trying to find a blog that could execute this well n I feel like you'll slay hehe. I was wondering if I could get a leon x reader with it being angst to fluff? :3 I'm a sucker for happy endings/things being fixed omg. I was wondering if you could create a oneshot/scenario where leon and the reader are arguing or something (you can decide what they're arguing about or if it starts out where things are fine then leads to that) and it escalates to him raising his voice a little which makes the reader burst into tears? And he's just kinda like 'omg why did I do that im so stupid' and so the fluff comes in with him apologizing and making up for it n stuff. (I'm a really sensitive n emotional person, so any slight raise of tone, I'm gonna bawl n hide in my room 😭) I was hoping you could also kinda make the reader like literal sunshine x leon type beat, bc I'm a v extroverted n outgoing enfp 💪🏻💪🏻

Also it'd be re4 leon! (Remake him is just so...) n please make it as long as you want, if you can! The more the merrier hehehe 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Ahhhh yes!!!! We love some re4 boy with a large heaping of angst to fluff!!!

After a slip up during a mission, Leon finds out that shouting at his sunshine often leads to rain. Luckily enough, he’s willing to bring an umbrella next time.

Word count: 2,472

Warnings/content: GN reader, 2nd person (you, yours), re4 Leon, swearing, overall angst but sweet ending.

━━━━━━━━━━❂━━━━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━━━━❂━━━━━━━━━━

“So, you wanna explain what that was?” Leon’s jacket was tossed halfway across the room as you entered his apartment - your apartment. He was upset. Both of you were upset. But him especially. You could tell because he had his ‘agent Kennedy’ voice on. The one he used when the rookies fucked up.

“I don’t know, I was just-”

You were fighting with your own tongue and teeth to get your answer out. Leon wasn’t usually an angry person. Not towards you, anyway. But you’d slipped up on your last assignment - a hunt in Annecy, France. Despite being new to the DSO and still getting your footing, you’d been partnered up with your boyfriend for the latest mission. Thanks to his exceptional reputation and overall cool under pressure attitude after the incident in Spain, it wasn’t new for him to teach the rookies the ropes.

You’d both under anticipated just how many bioterrorists and B.O.Ws there would be, though. Backed into a corner with one bullet in the gun. All out of grenades, too.

“Fall back and wait at the drop off area, I’ll stay and cover you. Do not approach any of the hostiles. Got it?” He’d said, readily gripping at his knife.

You’d nodded silently.

But you’d found an opening while sprinting down one of the stone paved alleyways, catching a quick glimpse at someone coming up behind Leon as his back was turned. Sure, he could hold himself in a fight. But he looked outnumbered. Tense. You’d acted on instinct instead of backing away like he’d strictly ordered you too. A quick bullet through their skull threw their body into the clean bricks of the building, now stained with crimson red and organ splatter.

But then they all turned to you. Somehow cognitively realised you were weaker and significantly smaller than Leon - who’d now found ammo in a corpse’s pocket. You could see it behind their fogged pupils, the way they fixated on you like predators at prey.

That’s when you got jumped.

You sighed out a little to keep your composure. Your own jacket was now discarded, although in a more civil matter as you’d hung it on the coat rack next to the front door. “I was just trying to help.” It was all you could really say. It was the truth, but it still didn’t feel like enough.

“You trying to help almost put you and a lot of other people in danger. You know that right?” Hasty hands undoing the straps on his tactical gloves, he didn’t look at you. He just tossed them next to his fur lined corduroy jacket as he lectured on.

You exhaled shakily, your own hands reaching down to undo the laces on your thick leather boots. At this point you felt at a loss for words.“Of course I do but-”

He finally turned to look at you, to face you with that stoic look he often wore during interrogations. You were caught up in your own questioning, it seemed. But this time he didn’t want to get any information out of you. He wanted you to listen. “If we hadn't gotten back-up reinforcements, the blood would’ve been on our hands Y/N. What if that horde got out into the street?”

Frustration began bubbling up into your spine. “I get it, okay?”

“I don’t think you do.” Leon turned his gaze to the side for just a moment with a head shake. He closed his eyes, sighed, and then spoke once more as if contemplating his next words. “Director Winston was right, you’re not cut out for the field yet.”

Your brows furrowed in shock. You’d worked hard to get on the field, and now it felt like it was all for nothing. “What? Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not. You disobeyed a superior. If I didn’t make that clean shot when you were jumped we would’ve both been killed.”

“But we weren’t, and that’s what matters!”

“It was too close of a call.”

“And what, that makes me incompetent?”

Those soft baby blue eyes had sunk into nothing but loud thoughts turning into louder words.

His demeanor finally snapped in half, breaking his vow of stone as he threw his hands out in anger. “It makes you a liability!”

You flinched back at his words and volume. Especially the volume, the way his voice suddenly swept into a boom that hit every wall around you, as if making it shake. His voice was so loud that it actually felt like the room shook, and that scared you so badly. In a way it made your ribs jitter in an instant. Made that familiar sting behind your eyes begin crawling up on you as you stared at him in nothing short of shock.

Shock, and potential fear.

Dead silence.

Conflicting emotions were rising and rising, hands now beginning to shake as tears formed in your eyes. Your expression was nothing short of devastated, a hand reaching up to cover your mouth as if you were to scream. But no noise came out.

It all hit you at once.

And Leon noticed it too.

“Fuck, no- love I didn’t-”

You were gone before he could finish his sentence. Quick, hectic steps through a haze of welling tears. You heard him take a step from behind you, as if he were about to go after you, before hesitating. He didn’t know whether to run or give you space. To hold you and apologise profusely, or sit quietly next to you just so you knew he was there.

He knew you were a sensitive soul behind a joyful exterior. This little dancing sunbeam in his life. Sunbeam who pressed kisses to his chin in the kitchen as he sat waiting in front of the warming coffee machine. Sunbeam, who went along with his playful banter before leaving for a mission. Sunbeam who hummed little songs to themselves as they brushed their teeth. That squealed out and laughed when he swept them up. That kissed him with every ounce of love they had to offer. That made him feel alive again after years of misery.

Sunbeam who grinned at him when they finally passed their physical examination, securing their position in the D.S.O.

But he’d seen how you flinched back when Director Winston was disciplining some poor rookie.

That should’ve been his first sign. A sign of your sensitivity to that side of people, that anger.

You were shutting the bedroom door behind you and locking it before he could contemplate it any longer. As soon as the lock flicked you were slumping against the nearest wall, hand pressed up against your mouth to try and calm down. But like a drain pipe bursting, it all hit you in a tidal wave. Knocked the wind from your lungs as you sobbed out lowly, almost choking as if sinking into the salty current of a whirlpool. Part of you still tried shushing your blubbering, tried silencing every bawl from leaking eyes and a quivering bottom lip. You didn’t want him to feel guilty.

But fuck, what he’d said. How he’d said it. How loud he’d been.

It hit you where it hurt.

So you balled up against the clean painted walls of your bedroom, probably just as clean as the ones in France before being splattered with bioweapon blood. Eyes now scrunched shut to try in a feeble attempt to block that thought out. So with limp hands and shaken bones, you stripped out of your mission gear and got into a soft sweater with some comfortable sweatpants. Suitable depression attire, as you’d usually call it in your mocking nature. But now you were burying your nose into the green fabric of the jumper, watching your tears seep stains into the woven threading. You resumed your usual spot against the wall, and as soon as your back pressed against it the tears started up again.

Not even a second later there was three soft raps against the wood of the door. No word spoken, just a knock. A silent question that you eventually answered, hopping up on your knees to click the lock out of its place before slumping back down. Your head hung back to rest at the wall, eyes closed as your eyes kept weeping.

Leon’s presence was both felt and heard as he crept through the doorway and shut the door behind him gently. Just the sight of you on the floor, looking disheveled and above all else hurt, made the pain in his chest just that much heavier. He didn’t know what to say.

“Hey.”

You sniffled, wiping your eyes with the back of your sleeves before turning to look up at him standing above you. “Hey.” Your voice was rasped and shaky.

He licked over his lips nervously. Still not a clue on what to say to you to make this any better. “So, I fucked up.”

You gave him a broken chuckle in response. “Yeah.”

His pace had completely changed from spry anger to calmed, soft worry. Eyebrows creased as he went to sit down next to you, resting his stiffened back against the wall. Now it was Leon’s turn to struggle to find the right words. His mouth ran dry.

“I didn’t mean what I said, by the way. It- it’s not that you’re a liability.”

You just shrugged a bit. Fuck, you looked exhausted. Not even bothering to look in his direction. You just stared upwards, as if focused on some imaginary object hanging from the ceiling. “But I am.”

“No you’re not, and that’s my fault for ever putting that thought in your head. And you’re not incompetent, either. You’re still new to this. And I’m not mad at you for what happened, I just..”

“Just?”

He gave his head a soft shake, eyes shut with a soft spoken response that had you finally facing him.

“I’m so scared that I’ll lose you.”

You couldn’t give him a response. All you could do was stare at the ever mighty Leon Kennedy opening his heart up to you once again. Showing you every wound and fear as if it were another scar on his back that only you were allowed to see. Only you were allowed to try and heal.

This had affected him as much as it had you.

“I’m all good for myself getting hurt out there, don’t get me wrong.” He continued. “But if you’d gotten hurt - or god forbid you…”

Your hand went out to his shoulder, brow creasing in worry despite your tears still falling absentmindedly. It was like your body had taken the reins on this one.

“I’m- I’m terrified, Y/N.” He whispered it like a secret, staring down at the carpet with a shaking head. “You are one of the only good things in my life. Hell, you’re probably the best thing. And knowing that it might happen while I’m there - me, who’s meant to protect you not just as your boyfriend but as your partner - it- it scares me.”

You offered him a sad half-smile, rubbing a thumb over his shirt carefully. “The Leon Scott Kennedy is scared?”

He gave you a weak chuckle, his own hand resting over yours. It was his own way of saying he had you in that moment as he still didn’t know how comfortable you were with being held.

“Petrified, sweetheart. And I’m sorry I didn’t say that sooner. That it came out like…that.”

Once again left speechless, all you could do was nod in response. Then his hand moved from yours to hold your face. “Hey.”

You were both falling into that same pattern. “Hey.”

He bit at his cheek before continuing. “I want you to know this. Even if you’re new to all of this, that doesn’t make you a burden, or a hassle. It just- it scares me so much. When I saw that- that thing jump you I just couldn’t think straight. It’s like something kicked me out of gear. I felt so helpless, knowing if I missed that shot or wasn’t quick enough I might’ve lost you. That you’d get hurt beyond healing. You are the most important thing to me. It’s- it’s my job to keep you safe, Amore.”

A broken laugh crept from your throat. All it took was that sound to put Leon’s mind at ease, watching how your eyes slightly crinkled with your smile.

“You’re busting out that nickname at a time like this?” Another sniffle. He always used it whenever he needed a smile out of you, a laugh. Mostly because you loved to tease him about the fact that despite his Italian-American genes he somehow managed to burn water.

He gave you a slight smile that tugged at the corner of his cheek. “Just trying to ease the tension. Is it working?”

One last sniffle before wiping the stray tear from your face using your sweater sleeve. “Yeah. Yeah it is. I just-”

You could feel your bottom lip wobbling again, blinking back another wave of tears. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Oh, sunshine.” He softened up for you, a gentle arm dragging your body towards his so you could rest your face against his chest with every weak sob. He never stopped rubbing your back, muttering quiet comforts into your hair until the wave passed and you calmed down once more. What you had yet to realise is he was willing to sit on the floor for hours with you in times like this, just to make sure you were okay.

Wiping the last of your tears away with his thumb, he reached down to take your hand in his. “So, here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna take the rest of the week off-”

You began protesting. “Winston will-”

“Winston can kiss my ass for all I care. I messed up, so I’m gonna make it up to you, okay?”

You knew you weren’t winning this argument no matter what. So instead you settled back against him. “Mhm.”

You could practically feel his smile of victory, a hand smoothing over your hair in short soft strokes. Leon sat his chin on your head

“Why do you call me that, anyway?”

“What? Sunshine?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought that was obvious by now.” He chuckled a bit. “You know about everything that happened to me. Everything I’ve seen. It’s been dark. Really dark. But no matter what you’ve stuck by my side, you’ve been my light. And god, the way you bounce off the walls, love. I’m not the only one you light up. You should see how much happier everyone has been ever since you joined the team. You’re just so outgoing, so willing to love. I love that about you. That and so much more. You’re my sunbeam, y’know?”

Your face scrunched up in questioning, to which Leon chuckled. “Does that make you my moonlight or rain cloud or what?”

He just smiled fondly, pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, and pulled you closer so your tear stained face could bury in his chest.

Because right now nothing was more important to him than the person in his arms. The one he would protect for the rest of his life.

No matter what.

“It makes me whatever you want me to be, sweetheart.”

[flgproductions]

'bwwrrriiiIIIIIIIIIIIIII-!!'

All the hundred eyes across the core of the Assault Caretaker suddenly shine a piercing, violent crimson as 30 of them stared down at the Dwarf below. It was clear as day that a machine can express emotion, now. For this one was PISSED BEYOND BELIEF.

'BFWROOOO-!!'

The one arm that remained un-tethered by the dwarven chief of the marines is violently thrown at Red from above!!

Dread Barons Chief: " K r - ! ! M O V E ! ! "

The Chief retracts the head of his blast-spear from the head of the tendril he had torn through, and attempted to rush forwards to save the little color-coded miner from the clutches of metal death!

But for some odd reason, the Miner himself was... not even TRYING to run?! Did he not believe he could escape from--

' K A - C R A C K S S H H ! ! '

. . . In an instant.

Faster than anyone could comprehend.

Power Scale Red... was now several feet in the air. From where he was previously laying on his back, witnessing cold metal death on rapid-approach, he was now twisting around horizontally through the air like a sideways tornado with his pickaxe in hand.

The head of the tendril that was just about to puncture and execute him was now smashed upwards and inwards, aimed towards the ceiling with one of its three prongs smashed and bent into the outside of the limb like a finger that was bent unnaturally backwards. The metal, flattened. Sparks flying from the heavily damaged chunk of machinery.

After a full 3 seconds were taken to fully process what he was witnessing? The chief's elephant-like sprint was suddenly cut short. Watching in silent surprise and confusion at what he was witnessing, same as all his brothers who were still separated.

' D O O F ! '

Some time after... Red lands down on the stone floor in a 3 point landing, pickaxe held off to his right. Vibrant cyan sparks flashing from the metal.

Red's armor. It was... different.

The dragon decor on the shoulders. It was... pulsing. With steam radiating off from under the folds of metal that were its scales. The eyes of the serpant were... glowing as well. The same cyan that the pickaxe was radiating. Even more steam emanated from its now wide-open mouth to boot.

Rows and rows of lines of bright cyan energy cascaded through the black bio-metallic material of the under-armor, almost appearing like mechanical veins with a bizarre power coursing through.

All of this power seemed to be pouring into the rest of the armor...

From the belt buckle on the front. It's own serpant-emblem, as well as the two arches on both sides that lock the belt together, had begun shining brilliantly with the bizarre power that now amplified the armor tremendously.

Red brings his head up to stare the beast down, a bright shining star emerging in his visor for but a moment.

The demon of steel... moved back.

(just gonna carry on our story, pretending that mc's vacation never happened in-between. "ahem") . . .

Blue: "Ouuuugggghh... C-Control? ...C-Can ya read? Agh--... Wh-What in the bloody blazes WAS that? Th-Think I hit my head pretty hard from--

. . . What the...?" . . .

Death cratered into the room from above.

In a flash, the ceiling had been smashed through.

. . . In the blink of an eye.

50 Dread Barons had become 42.

8 Marines, crushed into bloody metal paste under a massive black-steel laser-core-infused drill built by the Rival Machines.

A drill that was as wide as 4 drop pods combined, carrying a black-steel box into the depths of this world that was the size of 5. Marked from top-to-bottom in Rival Glpyhs and Patterns…

Any barons that weren't crushed like tomatoes were thrown to the cave floor, dazed. Staring up at the enormous box.

Even the Power Scales and the Chief were floored by the crash-down of the box… rubbing at their visors to get the dust out of their vision.

Red: " . . . What. In. This galaxy?" Yellow: "What is that...? 'S massive!" Green: "The Barons! They were...!" Blue: "Red? Red, what-? What do we...?" Dread Baron Chief: " . . . B r o t h e r s . M Y . B R O T H E R S ! " Seeing the fate of his soldiers, the chief of the Barons began to shake with a believably unfathomable rage. Red: " . . . Control. What... what're your readin's sayin'?"

Management has been alerted. We’re awaiting orders. I’m scrambling another platoon of Marines as exfil, but the odds of them getting there before that… thing… reduces you to a fine red mist are low. I’d also recommend getting away from the Chief- you’ve heard the term seeing red? He personifies it.

Good luck, Miners. Rock and Stone.

[wolfofrocket]

@shiirakeru

“Red!” Blue hums, circling him as if he were some new toy. “Did you miss me? Why were you gone for so long? I was so bored!”

“Giovanni had sent me personally on a mission he needed his best field operative for. And of course I missed you! Arceus, I wish you would’ve been there! It was so boring for the most part.”