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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 1 year ago

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Poets and Painters (Midday) - Wolffe x Reader [Mature Fic]

Warnings and Information: In desperate need of just one day to take his and his men's mind off the war, Plo Koon orders that everyone make a stop on a relatively uninhabited planet in a peaceful sector of the galaxy to… have a picnic? Just what does he have in mind? A certain flint-gray Commander is finding it hard to believe that they're just on the planet for a day of R&R in the middle of a war, so he isn't letting his guard down. Perhaps someone will help Commander Wolffe find some way to help him relax before the day is over… 2nd person POV. Reader is undescribed save for minor details like personal touches to a uniform, and has a gender-neutral alias. Allusions to canon-typical violence, mention of injury and loss, and Plo just being a dad to the 104th Battalion in the background. Swearing. Discussion of more adult themes and some lewd jokes the more the fic progresses (this is not an Explicit fic but it is Mature; Minors please DNI). Takes place on a fictional planet.

Word count: 4,665

The trick to keeping Commander Wolffe from prowling the edge of the clearing like a caged animal had been surprising. To everyone.

Allowing him to watch you work keeps him seated on the hill beside you, where he does not worry his brothers or Master Plo Koon by continuing to make lap after lap. He had left your side once, to take a look at something the Clone pilot Warthog had to show him, and then did a little shiny-wrangling (namely Soapsuds) because they were too close to the forest for his comfort, but he was quick to return.

He's not much of a conversational partner, whether that's out of respect for you to let you concentrate, or simply a product of his personality. When he has something to say, Wolffe keeps it brief.

"I'm not that pale."

"But your scar is." you reply with a gentle smile and a soft laugh, carefully adding traces of a lighter flesh-tone to the vertical stripe of scar tissue in your sketching of the Commander. You keep your pressure light on the page, and make your best efforts to keep the strokes in roughly the same orientation. The smile gives way to a frown the longer you fill in the length of his scar on the page. Your heart hurts for what happened to him at the hands of a dark Force-wielder. What her blade did to him. "I imagine it was quite painful, to lose your eye…"

"Yes." Wolffe replies in a clipped voice, suggesting to you that while he does not want to dismiss your sympathies, he clearly must not want to talk about this with someone he does not know, either. You feel a tug on the lapel of your uniform, and the gloved pad of his thumb brushes over something. Oh. You'd forgotten about that. "You added a wolf's head into your uniform, Arcadia?" He's changing the subject. And that's okay.

That's more than okay.

Glancing down best you can, you see the sloppy replication the flint-gray Commander refers to. The thread used for the head is a steely gray, the stitches are almost invisible and camouflaged in the color of the uniform, save for the eyes in your favorite color. It was meant to be practice for repairing holes in your clothing, you explain. "For emergency situations. I wanted to see if my stitches would hold up after being washed. I completely forgot it was there." You don't explain why you went with the image of a wolf. You won't need to, in his presence.

It's easy enough to guess why this would be the animal, of all possible choices available to you in this galaxy, you would stitch into your lapel. The name surrounds you. Wolfpack. General Plo's callsign is Wolf Leader when they engage in battle by starfighter.

It is the name of the man next to you - granted it bears an additional forn and an esk.

Wesk-osk-leth-forn-forn-esk.

Wolffe.

"It held up well." he compliments you, releasing the fold of the lapel and assuming his silence once more. Degree by degree, you are seeing he is not eternally gruff or cold with you, or anyone: merely a man made stoic and far more vigilant than before by war. In his vigilance, he continues to visually sweep the field for signs of trouble or mischief.

Maybe, while he's distracted…

You stealthily swap out the current coloring pencil in your hand - a deeper skin tone - and pluck out the Lamp Black pencil in the mix, drifting your hand lower down the page until the end of the pencil was now lined up with the loosely defined crotch and codpiece of his armor.

Maker alive let's just get this over with.

The body glove is going to be innocent enough to fill in, but defining the shadows around the pubic bulge in his kit will be faster. Just keep it quick and be discreet. Work fast. Hope no one sees. Hope no one asks.

Your pulse screams in your veins when he clears his throat - loudly - next to you, and you are so certain he is now trained on you, and acutely aware of where your pencil is. "Hm-mm…" Oh kriff me sideways. "Excuse me," he apologizes, clearing his throat again softer this time, "didn't mean to startle you, but I was trying to catch Suds' attention." Thank the Maker he didn't look when he apologized. Just a few more marks to finish shading in the codpiece, and then you can start on the body suit. "O-oh. Is he wandering off again?"

"Looked like he was about to."

Still breathing down their necks even from here? "Y'know-"

"As their Commander I am going to look out for my brothers, Arcadia." He sounds neither happy or unhappy with what he assumed you would say. And it's fair of him to assume that, in a sense. You only wish he didn't have to feel so defensive.

"I understand that," you promise him, and for the moment, you set down the pencil in your hand so you are not dividing your attention between the artwork and Wolffe. "and I wasn't telling you to stop, either. I only wanted to warn you that, I think, General Plo Koon seems worried about you, that something is keeping you from enjoying yourself."

To his credit, he gives your words a moment of quiet contemplation. Whether that's to consider the truth behind the words you said, or to come up with an explanation of sorts, Wolffe remains silent and still like the forest that surrounds you on all sides. What secrets does that forest hold? What lives within?

What will you find other than sap and blood on your palms when you pull back the thorny branches?

"I don't believe we're here just to relax for a day." Commander Wolffe admits with a heavy look of guilt and uncertainty. "I think the General has other reasons for bringing us to Little Archossi, and he won't tell us."

"Reasons? Like what?" You pick the pencil back up, and return to the slow, gradual task of adding color to the page. You're going to give him time to think. Time to answer, if he even wants to. He may not. Warning him that he's possibly made his General concerned about him seems to shake him down, somewhat. "I'm sorry."

It's reflexive, apologizing for upsetting him. That seems to pull him out of his silence, for the moment. "Don't be, Arcadia. I'm not going to fault you for having good intentions. Or a good eye."

The kri-?

In dawning horror, you see and fully realize where your pencil lead is. And looking over at him, you see that he does too. "I-I'm so sorry, sir…" You admit that you hoped he wouldn't notice, and that adding the necessary shading and color around areas that carry their shares of suggestive and sexual imagery and connotations would have been completed with as little attention drawn to it as possible. While you're not exactly ashamed to have drawn those parts of him, you feel a bit awkward to have him take notice of your work when you add the color.

Half of his mouth quirks in a smile, an expression of his respect, understanding that took guts to admit. "That's nothing to apologize for. It's just part of the art, Arcadia. A little "awkward" would only be understandable. Would you feel better if I purposely didn't watch?"

Well, seeing as how you're almost done with the inner thigh, you don't see much of a point to the gesture in this part of the progress. But, he did offer. And this seems to be what's keeping him seated in the grass. And what's keeping Plo Koon freer to spend less time being concerned about his diligent commander, and more time in showing his troops more aspects of Kel Dor culture and history, it seems. (Orchid keeps asking questions that Tack could easily answer about Dorin, and it serves as a neat little lesson for some of their newer shinnies. Plo is certainly grateful for the curiosity that allows him to be a teacher, rather than a fighter, today.)

You shrug lazily, laughing softly under your breath. "I'll leave that up to you, sir. At this point…"

Wolffe chooses to keep an eye on his brothers, so you make the process of shading the inner thighs quick, while being careful not to get sloppy. You're not trying to recreate a master painter's work here in the first page of your sketchbook, but you don't want to look at this one day and become filled with the urge to tear it out because all you can see are glaring imperfections, either. That's nothing but a fanciful daydream of making so much progress in your artistic prowess that you would ever be struck with such a thought, of course.

You are preoccupied with a war against the Separatists: when would you ever have the chance to make regular progress and impressive strides without backsliding and the natural degradation of your skills when you do not use them? You're a small part of the busy crew that keeps the Triumphant running smoothly.

People constantly need you. And that's all well and good, but sometimes you find yourself running into the same problem over and over again that crews of this size inevitably face: when you, who provides the help, needs someone, who is there for you? Do you turn to another crewmate who is already up to their neck in all the problems they juggle? Turning to one of the Clone troopers is ill-advised, no matter how much they swear they don't mind lending a hand or an arm (or two) to assist.

You've been doing fine aboard the Triumphant; better than fine, in fact. But that worry claws at you, sometimes. I'm here to help everyone. But if I needed help, who would I go to?

Who does the Commander go to when he needs help, come to think of it… General Plo? Or maybe Sergeants Sinker and Boost, if the matter was a little closer to the heart, something he believed was best kept between brothers?

Who does Wolffe turn to in his hours of need, you wonder.

You need to rest your wrist, and soon. You have just a little more of this tree's canopy to color in though, and then you're calling it good. You've been working on this "sketch" for more than three hours with the Commander at your side. You want to have this done soon. You want to go check out some of these things other crewmates have been laughing themselves silly over for the last hour that leave them gasping and wheezing for breath, clutching their sides and drying their faces. You're burning to know what's so funny, why they keep calling your name to come see.

Curiously guessing over and over what General Plo's reaction will be when you show him this amateurish endeavor in outdoor art drives you to continue, however. Just a few more tiny, feather-shaped leaves… Wolffe notices the sharp twinge in your face, and the uncomfortable spasm in your fingers as you adjust your grip around the Sunflower coloring pencil.

"Getting painful?"

"Just a little." you admit, knowing if you pause now, you will delay when you pick the pencil back. "I'll manage."

"Making art shouldn't bring you pain, Arcadia."

You scoff, just slightly. "Physical pain? Agreed. But emotional pain, that's another matter. Don't worry, I'll be done soon, Wolffe."

He asked you to call him Wolffe a short time ago. It wasn't exactly necessary to call him Commander or Sir all the time if you had him sketched out on your page quite like… that. His legs parted and bent at the knee - flat in the grass out in front of him. Wrist of the left hand resting just on the surface of his thigh, with his hand hanging limp just inches from his groin. You were generous enough to draw his fingers in a more neutral position than how they had looked in reality… Otherwise, if his soldiers and brothers got a hold of the sketchbook, there's no telling how many jokes you'd have to hear about making it look like their Commander was jerkin' it in front of you.

Calling him "Wolffe" would do just fine when it was just the two of you alone on this hill. Perhaps he felt it was only fair if he was calling you by your name. You had no title or rank, like him. You are just a humble part of the crew, but he assured you no less important than one of the soldiers.

It takes all of us, he said. That's how we win this war.

You've come to the home stretch, feeling the ache in your fingers deepen with every tiny skritch and shwoop! as you methodically color in your work leaf by leaf. "Just one last, little leaf," you promise, "and then I'm done."

"Not going to sign your magnum opus, Arcadia?" Wolffe prods a little teasingly. He's smiling at you now, even. Hours ago, he was somber and battle-ready, no smiles, no nonsense. Now, he's beginning to make small jokes. "Should add a signature so future museums know who to accredit this to."

"A leaf and then a signature." you chuckle warmly. "Future museum… Honestly." He only offers a shrug in response to that, and you take it to mean well, you never know. "What, you're trying to tell me you think this would honestly end up in a museum gallery one day?"

He shrugs again, gazing off into the distance, into the forest. "Overheard one of the boys in the mess say something about the notion once. Something they read. Some kind of commemorative effort made by one planet to make sure they never forgot their bloody history by way of art and song and poetry inspired by that time. Evidence of a time best not repeated, but not forgotten either."

Such an insightful and wise thing to be said so casually, poetically, and yet, there's a weighty truth to every syllable and enunciation.

We doom ourselves to repeat the past when we do not remember it and do not teach it anymore. When we allow ourselves to forget, the shades of rouge we sop the bristles of our brushes in will not be in the rich scarlets of Dathomir, or the forever-burning rubies of Mustafar, it will instead be with blood.

When we have enough evidence, it silences the naysayers and the fools. It validates the choking and trembling voices that say I have tasted the bitter blade of war. I have stood before the yawning maw of nothingness it leaves in its wake. I will never be the same. You do not have the right to tell me that I am some kind of paid actor.

If they were conspiracies, do you not think I would be among the loudest of your prophets who tout these twisted claims in the hopes of converting another?

"Fascinating. Thinking something like that will come of the Clone Wars, Wolffe?" You've finished the drawing, now. Taking an ink pen, you jot down your signature in the tidiest handwriting you can manage in the lower right corner, making note of the date for good measure. You'll think up a creative title for this later.

There's a third rising and falling of the shoulders from the man sitting beside you. "It's too soon to tell."

"That's fair." you reply, gathering up your supplies to put them back into the bag for safekeeping. "But you just know, if it does happen, the Separatists aren't gonna like the art." You have faith that the Republic will prevail. How could it not when the soldiers who fight for the Republic are some of the most courageous, persevering people you know? (What will come of them after?)

You're likely right about that, he agrees with a throaty chuckle. The Separatists will not like losing this war, and they'll like the art even less. "I can only hope… that it will not just be the Jedi who are…" Wolffe grows silent next to you. He's not certain what word he wants to use to best explain his thoughts, he admits plainly. There are too many. Too many answers that are right, but he struggles to find the one thing that is most correct out of all of them.

Given what Tack has told you, the answer is obvious. "You're hoping that the galaxy will remember the Clones were a part of this conflict too. That the galaxy won't forget the sacrifices made by your brothers, and they won't forget how many lost their lives. You probably hope that when the free peoples of the galaxy remember the Jedi, they remember you, too. Both must be appreciated together."

"You're probably right," Wolffe concedes firstly, "And you're too wise beyond your years, Arcadia." Strangely philosophical, he tells you, for how old he guesses you to be. Maybe he's the right one this time, thinking to yourself on his words.

Maybe he's not the only one hoping that when this war ends, no matter the outcome, those who served as a part of the Grand Army of the Republic will not be a forgotten topic ten, twenty… even forty or fifty years down the line.

Tack has made a breakthrough in his mysterious flower just before Master Plo is free to come take a look at the sketch and color work you've completed, and concern for his men takes precedence. You would not blame him in the slightest if he forgot he expressed interest in seeing what you accomplished with art materials given to you as gifts. Because of your station with the crew of the Triumphant with a secondary speciality for risk assessment, you're involved in this discussion with the researcher and his commander and general.

Right now determining the risks posed to the men of the 104th matters more. Art and philosophical pondering will have to come later.

Tack explains to both Commander Wolffe and Master Plo that he thinks the smatterings of blue flowers that dot this clearing here on Little Archossi are known as Dinocaeruleus anthos. By their common-name, you know that these flowers are a warning. A silent, unassuming danger for all their beauty and silky blue petals.

Terrible blue flower.

"You can make toxic honey with these flowers?" Wolffe asks more to himself than Tack, as he reads ahead in the compiled information. Plo is taking his time to read the information on the screen of the datapad in his hands. To make sense of this, the Jedi is being thorough.

"Poisonous, Sir, more accurately." Tack makes the correction habitually, and Wolffe does not take it personally. He knows that Tack knows what he meant, and given his aptitude for analytics and other such sciences, his researcher is not correcting him to be a smartass. "But, yes, you can make bad honey with these flowers depending on what pollinators you harvest from. They are not wholly dangerous on their own. Eat it, it might make you feel nauseated due to natural bitterants. Touch it to more sensitive dermal surfaces and it will prove a powerful irritant."

From a short distance away, you hear the voices of Orchid and Soapsuds, Tack's batchmates (you assume), commenting on what the four of you are discussing in the shade of the tree you spent the morning sketching. "So what Tack's saying is don't stick your d-" The speaker finds himself with the other's hand anxiously plastered against his mouth to shut him up in a hurry. "Maker alive, shut up!" Soapsuds warns him, "Orchid, why are you so vulgar?!"

There is a pointed sigh from Commander Wolffe that is aimed at the two of them. Don't make me come over there. Behave yourselves in front of the General.

Plo makes no indication that he's noticed the situation occurring just out of reach. You have to imagine he hears Suds and Orchid wrestling with each other in the grass, now, though, and is ignoring it. "Arcadia and Tack, in your opinion, will these be enough cause for concern to consider returning back to the ship?" Plo wonders aloud. The Kel Dor returns the device to the researcher, and folds his hands together in an act of deliberate contemplation, resting them against his stomach.

Tack looks at you, and you at him, then the Commander. There is a look in his eyes, both the stark silver and the warm vandyke brown, that reads to you as a surrender of control.

I will carry out your judgment.

Tack scoffs and shrugs, his arms thrown wide. "Honestly, General? I don't know enough. I'd need more time to determine through more analysis and comparison. This is only one search result for one flower it could possibly be. But it was enough of a match to make me get the Commander while he was talking with Arcadia." Enough of a match to send him into a tizzy over it. Tack had tripped coming up the hill in his haste, trying to ask if - from where he was sitting - the Commander noticed anyone messing with the blue flowers.

We have a potential problem! had Wolffe on his feet faster than engaging a hyperdrive. And then there was a flurry of questions. Was it contact from the planet's inhabitants? Has someone gotten hurt? Are they needed to assist another battalion? Where's the General?

He has the look again, now. Worry. The inner anxiety is eating him alive. Tack doesn't know. So what about you?

"I see…" Master Plo hums. "And what are your feelings, Arcadia? What do you think about the situation?"

You think. What do you think about this situation? Is it worth double checking the matches for the flower, to make sure that it really is Dinocaeruleus anthos? Are the men really going to be so flippant as to disregard any kind of warning put out about these flowers if they are the Dinocaeruleus, or worse yet, a far more harmful flower? (Not necessarily, but you have to consider that warning the troops that this flower can have detrimental potential invites the opportunity to inflict it.)

There is one thing that is already clear to you, at least. "Tack should first make sure these flowers are what he thinks they are before we make any kind of advisory, General. That is my opinion."

Another thoughtful hum. "Interesting. And why is this your opinion, little one?"

"We should avoid unnecessary panic. Until we know for sure what these flowers are, I say we don't say anything. We invite unnecessary risks by making the men paranoid." you suggest, glancing first at the Jedi, and then the flint-gray Commander to his left. They had every right to accept or disregard your counseling as the commanding forces of this battalion at the day's end; you hope they will consider it at the very least.

"I'm in agreement."

"Then we will do as Arcadia advised, and we will let young Tack take more time to confirm his findings. Until then…" Plo trails off, nodding decidedly. Thank the Maker. Tack dismisses himself in a hushed, hurried tone. If he's going to spend more time pouring over information on the Dinocaeruleus anthos, he shouldn't dawdle. The Jedi kindly wills the benefits of the Force to guide the researcher before he turns to address you once again. "Have you made use of the gifts given to you since we last spoke?"

Blinking with a mild start, you realize that Plo has changed the topic. "Oh, yes, I have. Let me go get my sketchbook from my bag, sir." You scoop the entire bag from the grass, re-tucking your datapad among your things as you extract the book and turn it to the necessary page for his convenience. "Here."

Taking it carefully in his hands, the book is cradled like a priceless relic as his eyes must trace over the page. Once more your property is treated with such care and respect by the Force-wielder. "My… Arcadia, you have quite a gift."

The action is perhaps more childish than professional, but you cannot help but duck your head at such praise, fearing to meet his gaze should he see how flushed your face is. It is not the heat of the sun above you, denoting that it is now high noon, that makes your face burn. You're never quite sure how to accept a compliment.

You opt for humility. "Oh, it's hardly that great, General Plo… I wouldn't say I have a gift… just… a-an attention for detail." And that much is true; dedication to detail is why you spent hours on a simple "sketch" to begin with; why you took so much care and effort to get everything done the best you could. The form of Commander Wolffe's armor. The curve of his jaw and the roundness of the ala of his nose. The correct texture of his hair within the typical haircut many of the Clones have.

But though gentle insistence, the General repeats his sentiment. "Attention for detail is no less of a gift, Arcadia. In war it is a mark of wisdom, in art, it is a skill." A skill that has made for a very fine portrait of the Commander. "Have you seen Arcadia's work yet, Commander Wolffe?" He offers the sketchpad with an invitation to have a closer look, though it isn't necessary.

"I watched Arcadia add the colors, yes." Wolffe confirms. "Quite the process."

Not to mention a strain on your wrist, but one well worth it for the praise given to you from the Jedi, and now many of the men who have congregated to come and suss out what's going on. "I can only imagine… Even gone through the trouble of adding proper shadows to such… rich color."

Sinker and Boost smile softly, not quite sadly (but certainly somber), when they take note of the color of paint their commanding officer wears when you allow the book to be passed around so everyone is welcome to have a closer look. They hold it longest out of everyone, looking at this artistic replication a little more closely than most.

"The ol' maroon, eh? Think it's meant to depict another time, before Abregado?"

"But he's drawn with the scar, Boost."

"Ah, yeah, good eye. Missed that bit."

You timidly clear your throat to draw their attention, and explain that of all the colors, you didn't have gray. "I didn't want to leave his armor naked, either." Not when you went through the trouble of adding the face of the wolf and the other design to each of his shoulder pads, or the unique shape of his visor when you drew the helmet next to his hip.

You would not deal him further, small cruelties by stealing the colors out of his coat completely. These markings he has chosen for himself mean something to Wolffe. The color he wears now is a mark of mourning. The color in the pages of your book will serve as an homage.

You have not forgotten your brothers. You will always carry them with you.

Hmmf. Are you a poet now too, Arcadia?

No sir. Not really.

You're uncertain where the words came from. Borrowed from something you read once? Did you perhaps hear the General say these words once upon a time? You can't recall what inspired you to say such a thing.

But you'll remember the change in his gruff exterior, the way in which he was quieter than quiet for just a moment, and he pivoted in the grass to better face you and make you his equal.

It's only the two of us here on the hill, Arcadia. Call me Wolffe, please.

Don't have a fic taglist for the time being, but I'll likely start one soon if I can figure out how to make those forms some people have since I write a variety of stuff. For now, though, if you'd like to join a taglist for specific types of fics (example: just TBB-centric or just TCW-centric (or both)) don't hesitate to ask. 🩷

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slifarianhawk · 1 year ago

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Chapter 25: Two Matriarchs (NORMAL P.O.V.)

Sitting at my desk, I clicked off and deactivated my connection to the B.S.A.A. terminals. Chris was clearly not in a good place and needed some comfort. I hope Barry, Claire, or the copy of my plans against Spencer would soothe him.

As I waited for Albert to arrive with that harpy Excella , I decided it would be best to have Agent Nighthawk in the office as backup. Did I think Albert would allow me to get hurt? No, no, I did not. I just think a little intimidation would be helpful.

I pressed the button on my comm choker, activating it.

"Agent Nighthawk respond." I ordered.

"Yes, commander?" His voice responded quickly.

"Come to my office. I have a feeling the new visitor will be trouble, and I would like your assistance in the matter as my backup." I said, standing up from my chair and walking over the marbled ebony cabinets in the corner of my office.

"YES, MAM!" He said loudly.

"No need to shout hun. See you soon." I ended the comm link.

Opening up the cabinet, I pulled out a tray with a vintage light blue decanter with gold angel fish with six matching glasses. Inside the decanter was Pheonix Corps. special strawberry brandy. I also had an unopened imported bottle of Kunohs orange osmanthus wine as well as an unopened bottle Disaronno and Johnnie Walker blue label, which I knew was Albert's favorite. Pulling them out of their hidey hole, I placed them on the tray as well.

Carefully, I brought the drinking set out and placed it on my desk. Tucking away my keyboard, laptop, as well as the monitors. I placed the cups along the desk. With utmost care, I covered the desk and drinking set with a black silk sheet. The proper meet and greet was more important, and if it went well, drinks would be served.

"I am here, m'lady." Nighthawk said, entering my office holding a five gallon bucket of ice,"White Queen said you would need ice, so I grabbed you a big bucket full from the kitchen before I came to your office."

The kid smiled. His unruly neck lenght blonde hair was slicked back almost how Wesk normally had his. He was wearing a charcoal grey jacket with an aquamarine tee shirt, black jeans, and his standard issued combat boots.

"Wow! kid, you're looking sharp today. This is perfect. I want to see your files from project a.c.r.o.h. you look so much like my husband it's shocking." I said, taking the bucket of ice from him," please take a seat. Archer will be here soon with Albert and that bitch Excella. However, my plan is simple, and you'll see that soon enough. Now, if you'll turn around so I can get changed."

Agent Nighthawk turns and faces the wall. I quickly changed into my battle suit that was crafted from carbon nanotubes and spider silk. Perfectly bulletproof and stylish to boot. I placed my corrective purple shades on as well as my black leather duster coat embroidered with blue silk flames. I pulled my long deep brown hair up into a ponytail. Lastly, I stepped into black snake skin three inch wedge heel boots.

"OK... Hawk, you can turn around now. I'm ready for this meet and greet with Ms. Gionne, " I said, walking over to him.

"That's good, m'lady, and it seems they are almost here." He said, pointing at the window, revealing Albert and Arjuna walking up the stairs being followed by Excella and Steve.

I quickly zipped over to my big office chair and sat down. Turning away from the door, I gazed over set agent Nighthawk and motioned for him to come stand next to me. He followed the order I silently provided in just the nick of time.

White Queen appeared as the door opened. Archer walked in first, followed by Wesker and Steve. Excella walked in last.

"Albert, where is this asset you keep bringing up? I must admit the Pheonix Corps. is an amazing organization, but would they help us with oroboros. They seemed to be aligned with the UN." She stated.

White Queen spoke up, "All of your questions will be answered here in a moment. Arjuna, please introduce our lady to Ms. Gionne."

Archer smiled and bowed, "Yes, White Queen, welcome to the final room of our tour. The heart of Pheonix Corps, this is the office of our mistress. The former vice captain of the Raccoon City special tactics and rescue services Alpha team, Umbrellas former top researcher in vaccines and anti viral procedures, UBSC Agent number seven hundred forty-eight, goddess of the new world and wife to commander Albert Wesker, our matron and leader, the Pheonix herself, Lady Tabitha Ellise Redfield Wesker."

I turned in my chair and stood up. Brushing my bangs away from my eyes. My wicked smirk plastered across my face as I stared deep into Excella's horrified eyes.

"So.... so... you were?"shuddered out Excella.

"NOT so much of a filthy mutt now am I deary. Hahaha.... worry not, dear heart. I hold nothing against you. I could have killed you the moment I laid my eyes on you, but I didn't. After all, that's not what my daughter Alistar would want. I understand you found her corpse. I want to thank you for being her home to me and Albert." I took off my shades, revealing the deep blue sapphire like eyes.

Albert walked forward and stood next to me, "Excella, my dearheart here has a deal for you."

"What is this deal? What what can she give me that I don't already have? I have Albert and our research. I don't need anything more. So tell me what you can offer me?" She huffed, turning around, starting to walk out.

"Well, how about me not exposing Tricells' recent transgressions against the UNs anti bioterrist regulations." She turned around, horrified as the realization just hit her.

"You wouldn't dare! do you know who i am. No one would turn in trecell over

petty reason, like not building a work relationship." She said, walking towards me.

I laughed, amused, "If you think I'm not that petty, just ask Wesk. However, I have damn near infinite resources and connections as well from the B.S.A.A., the connections, even Nato and the UN. I have decades of research from umbrella and access to files that Wesker doesn't. I'm currently have an army of around two thousand soldiers, all with B.O.W. training. To think you would think I studied up on you when I found out about irving was connected to Tricell. Born to the Gionne family, Excella was a child prodigy. Graduating from high school at the ripe age of sixteen and college at twenty. She gained a bachelor of science degree majoring in genetic engineering. Valedictorian at that. Now you are an assistant to my power-hungry sadist of a husband. I love him dearly, but I can tell you, and I share that fact in common. Now I'll cut you a deal, one that will be hard to refuse."

I saw Albert smirk.

"Gentlemen, let's give my dear lotus and Excella some privacy." Wesker said, motioning for the men to leave.

"No need, Albert. I want to make sure you hear what is said. That way, I know she'll stay loyal to this contract. You did tell me she's loyal to you to a fault. Let me hear this deal you've concocted. " Excella smirked, sitting in one of the chairs.

"Simple and straight to the point, I like that. This is a four part deal, and I'll have the legal team draw up the contract for three parts. The last piece will be between me and you, Excella." I said, sitting back down in my office chair.

"But of course, I'm not an idiot. Now, let's hear these terms." She said in a very business manner.

"First of we don't rat each other out to the UN, B.S.A.A or any other authority." I said.

"That's very much agreeable." She said seething, "What else would you like out of this?".

"We share resources between Tricell and Phoenix Corps. This will include but not be limited to research, viral stabilizers, soldiers, the works, whatever you need that we can provide, and the same co yndition is applied to you at tricell." I stated, grabbing a dark blue fountain pen and paper writing out the conditions and signing by each one.

"I promise you the resourses of my branch of Tricell,and I'll contact my family and have the other branches reach out as well." She said, signing next to each of my signatures.

"Lastly of the main terms, we stay out of others' way and try to rule side by side the new world uroboros will usher in for us." I said, standing up and extending my hand out.

She stood up and took my hand in hers, "Then it's settled."

"Not quite. All but Archer leave this room now that's an order. Albert, I'll discuss this with you later, but for now, this is my base. You will listen to me. " I said, pointing to the door, "Do you have any objections, Ms. Gionne?"

"Yes, I'd rather have Albert in here rather than one of your flunkies. It's only fair since you are his wife, after all." She smirked.

"Excella, I will stay, but first let me talk to my dearest lotus in the hall." He said, pulling me out the door.

When we were in the hall, Albert backed me into a wall and pressed his lips against my neck. Pinning my shoulders, he stared into my eyes. He flashed his signature smirk with his eyes glowing. His cologne rolled into my nostrils.

"Since when did you become such a devilish negotiator, my dear lotus flower." Albert murmured into my neck, planting a kiss on my lips mere seconds after speaking.

"Being Sergei's lapdog for all those years did have some advantages. Like learning how to manipulate the situation. However, you my love, are still leagues better than I. Now I'm going to offer her a deal she can't refuse for her to possibly be our third. Then, when we are ready to cut her lose, we test uroboros on her. The final test of her worthiness." I let out a dark chuckle,"but we both know what we will find there."

"My lotus's petals have really darkened. Let's go finish this negotiation, I have a treat for you when this is over." He said, lifting me into a gentle kiss searing with ferocity.

I could tell he was holding back. The sadist I know he was was loving the fact I had to play nice with his chosen subordinate. I had to be his delicate little flower, who obeyed his every command. He had a lot to learn about the new me.

I followed Wesk back into the room. A smirk wide on my face. Excella seemed interested in what I had under the black silk sheet. I swiftly took my seat, ripping off the black cloth revealing the beverages.

I poured Excella and I a drink from the strawberry brandy and Albert a drink from the Johnnie Walker, " Arjuna, Steve, agent Nighthawk, please leave us. I'll call ya'll back over my comm link." I said as the young men left the room.

"Now, what is the last part of this deal that you are proposing?" She asked as Albert slinks up behind her and strokes her face,"Albert!?"

"Isn't it obvious? Excella, my wife is being kind enough to share me with you, but only if you prove your loyalty to us."

"Does that mean? I'll be able to be with you, Albert?" She asked with a shocked expression.

"Only if you truly prove to be a partner to us." I said, handing her a glass of brandy, "Not just him but to me as well."

She gulped fear dripping from her brow as she took the glass i started to offer. "And let me guess, this is the only chance I have of getting with you, isn't it?" She looked up at Wesk.

He simply smirked and stood behind me. Placing a hand on my shoulder, he spoke,"This is all up to my dear lotus, Excella. Prove yourself to her, and your dreams may become a reality." He pulled my hair back, giving me a deep, passion filled kiss, "and from what I've seen, you have a long way to go."

"Unless you'd rather always be alone except those boy toy interns you keep around." I said, sipping my brandy smuggly.

She gulped once again and raised her glass," I accept these conditions."

"To us, the Matriarchs of the Pheonix Corps. and Tricell." I said raising my glass while handing Albert his scotch,"and the hierarchy of the new world."

Hey everyone sliva here quite the twist no? Relax this is not an Excella x reader or Excella x wesker fic. I have plans that run deep for this story. I am giving an advanced warning the next chapter will be dark. There will be two separate cases of torturing. There will be manipulation. There will be gore blood and not good situations. You have been warned for now. I'll also have proper trigger warnings before each part.

My name is Silfarianhawk, and I'm not so far away.

#albert wesker #resident evil #wesker #wesker x reader #wesker x oc #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker x oc #re wesker #Excella Gionne #Excella #tw drinking

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bluntblade · 7 months ago

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WIP Wednesday on Thursday

Thanks very much to @foibles-fables for the tag :D

Currently working on a Star Wars project with a bloody-knuckled Mandalorian OC:

He dived on them, vibrosword snapping to life in his right hand, pistol blazing in his left. The enemy didn't see him until too late, when he triggered a micro-burst from his jetpack to slow down. He channelled the force of his remaining descent into a downward cut which went through an upraised blaster and the trooper aiming it.

He kept moving, kept attacking, a vengeful spectre of ash and metal.

Everything was ash now, thanks to those who'd turned away from the fight.

A point-blank shot of his pistol took another full on the chest. Chunks of armourplast clattered against Week's armour.

Were those Clans proud?

His squad landed around him, striking their own targets, but a shock-baton swung out of the smoke. There was a Death Trooper driving it.

Had they made stands for their own patches of Mandalore? Had they sat and let death come to them, or fled a dying world?

Wesk deflected, giving ground. The bastard was fast, and was attacking again before Wesk could bring his blaster around for a shot. So he caught the baton with his sword this time, the two power fields snapping and snarling against one another, and drove forward. He wouldn't be able to get past his enemy's guard, but as he went his right knee snapped up. The Death Trooper took the cluster of little missiles in the stomach. A fiery gut-punch. He flew back into the murk, trailing smoke and shattered armour.

Had it given them any consolation, knowing that they were purer Mandalorians than those who'd fought to free the world and keep it free?

More enemies, Death Troopers and regulars alike. Wesk cut them down and blasted them off their feet.

Were they sorry? Did they repent their dogmatic error?

Another Death Trooper, wielding baton and pistol. Wesk set him ablaze and set him howling, the sound twisted by the enemy's helmet grille, but it took his pistol and sword to finish the bastard off. He himself took hits, which his armour withstood but stung like searing brands.

He hoped so, but he had a feeling that they'd blame it on the Duchess instead. And Mandalorians like him. The Mandalorians left to fight on in the ruins.

Tagging @dreaminghour, @sinvulkt and @fancyfrey - but no pressure, to be clear

#wip wednesday #my fanfic

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howls-from-wolfe · 2 years ago

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Torment

Bloodlust Beginnings

TW: Lab environment, human testing, animal death, blood, gore.

A few days after the initial injection, Subject 2356 was guided back to the same observation room as before. It was like nothing happened. The white walls and glaring lights made the room painful to look around.

A voice sounded through the intercom system. “Welcome back, 2356. How are you feeling?”

The boy raised an eyebrow. Why did they suddenly care? No. They didn’t care. They just wanted to do their bullshit research. He was just a cow to the slaughter, a plaything, a puppet. He remained quiet.

The blond virologist sighed at the rebellious behavior, turning to his researching partner. “Fine then. Start the recording, Will.”

Will turned on the camera, signaling to the virologist that it was ready to go. The blond spoke out to the room. “April 16, 2008. Subject 2356. Follow up on Project Wolf. The subject seems agitated, not communicating with us. Starting the temperature stimuli adjustment.”

The room began to fill with frosty air, making the boy shiver as goosebumps decorated his pale skin. His hot breath made small clouds as he tried to tough it out. Alas, the virus that raged inside had other plans.

The boy sat on the ground, hugging his knees, trying to hold out as the shivers ravaged over him. He could feel his hair growing as it brushed against his clothes. Nausea came in waves, making him salivate wildly. His sharp nails dug into his skin as he held himself, trickles of crimson leaking from the wounds.

No.

He refused to succumb to this virus. His joints and muscles ached as he fought the war within.

Fight as he may, the boy was in a losing battle as he laid on the floor. The virus took over, transforming his body as grotesque noises erupted from him.

“WESK-A-A-R!” He gargled out, recognizing the voice from the intercom. Was it in anger? Pleading? Desperation? It was hard to tell from either side of the glass.

Rough pants and pained groans came from him as his body grew in size, ripping his clothes.

The dynamic duo watched from behind the glass, silently observing. “A divine specimen, wouldn’t you say, William?”

The researcher nodded, not taking his eyes away from the subject. “Add the scent. See what he does.”

Wesker spoke to the room. “Adding the blood scent stimuli.”

2356 panted heavily as his mutated body laid on the cold tile floor. A soft hiss pierced his ears, making him reach up to cover them. A sharp scent hit the subject’s nose, slowly rousing him. His body still ached, but the scent made everything take a backseat. The subject searched the room, letting out huffs as he went.

A low growl came from him as more of the scent flooded his sensitive nose, practically hijacking his brain. The subject prowled about the room, his nose leading him to a vent in the corner near the floor.

Fortunately, or unfortunately for the subject, the vent was welded pretty well into the wall, and his claws were too big to fit into the narrow slats. He growled as he dug at the wall, trying to get to the source, before a more fresh scent hit his nose.

2356 looked around the room, trying to find the source before a ceiling panel slid open, dropping a bloodied deer with a loud thud. The creature stumbled to its hooves, pausing as it noticed the predator in the room. Its blood slowly oozed down its belly and to the white floors.

The subject licked his lips before taking off after it. His overgrown nails made him slide on the smooth floor, allowing the deer to get away once, but he wouldn’t let that happen again. 2356 lunged, catching its rear leg between his iron jaws and raking down its sides with his claws.

A loud snap rang through the room along with a screaming bray from the deer as it tried to free itself. The subject reached to the creature’s chest, clawing his way through and manhandling its heart. The room fell silent for a moment before the subject began tearing at the deer’s warm flesh, enjoying a feast.

“Fascinating.” Wesker crossed his legs under the desk. “Let’s continue observation on another day.”

#pre fog wolfe #howls from wolfe #backstory

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ivy-loves-chocolate · 3 years ago

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Gently slides in here. Hello,,, if its ok can we have something about how wesker and his s/o cuddle to fall asleep?? Its,,, my one weskness. Thank u. 🥺

Note: It’s been a while since I’ve done asks and I missed it sm 🥺. Anon i think this is one of my weaknesses now as well haha;

Type: headcanons, with a small fic at the end;

Warnings: fluff.

Ko-fi: if you want to support me, visit this link. Thank you!

Enjoy!

Text dividers

♡ He will be very clingy once he gets home, a total opposite of how people expect him to be. He misses your touch during the day, so he will recover from the absence at home. He can’t be all sweet with you in public since his authority is based on the type of the“unapproachable guy” and being all cuddly will damage his reputation, and people might lose respect or see him as less threatening.

♡ This doesn’t mean he doesn’t crave your touch during the day. There are days, awful, tiring days when everything seems to work against him when all he wants is to fall in your arms and stay there. He feels safe, knowing that there is one place in this world where he doesn’t have to be always powerful and self-assured. In other words, he feels safe to be vulnerable with you. This is when his human side comes to the surface.

♡ Cuddling is a powerful energy booster for him. Yes, the big scary maniac needs a hug from time to time but he doesn’t ask verbally. Instead, he’ll either curl up in his s/o arms with his head resting on their chest as the sound of their heartbeat calms him down, or he’ll pull their body closer to him in a tight hug. His big arms will fit perfectly around his s/o’ body.

♡ Another thing that calms him down is your scent, so he’ll either fall asleep with his nose deep buried in your hair or at the base of your neck. He’ll be the big spoon most of the time as he likes to cover your body with his as if he is protecting you. He’ll always fall asleep whenever you two cuddle, he doesn’t have a favorite position. As long as he feels your body pressed tight next to him, he’ll fall asleep in no time.

Wesker was playing with a strand of your hair between his fingers, while you were pressed over his chest. He was holding your body in a tight embrace like he was afraid of letting you go.

“Sweetheart.” You said while fidgeting in his embrace. “Can you loosen up a bit?”

“I’m so sorry, dear.” His arm loosened up around your waist and moved to your hip. You finally could breathe. This new grip seemed to be more favorable to him as he muttered.

“Thank you.” You snuggled a little closer as if there was more room, but you were so glued to his body that even an outsider could notice there was no more space left. However, it’s a good thing that you were in your intimate place, where no one can observe you, where you can strip off your day-to-day masks and be yourselves in your intimacy. Albert loved when you would snuggle like a small kitten. It made him feel wanted but not only for his fortune and power but for his presence and humanity. You made him feel human, to come at peace with his vulnerable self.

Your arm stretched to cover more of his waist as you were trying to get more comfortable. Wesker stopped playing with your hair and turned on the side, moving the arm that was on your hip under your neck so he can grab your shoulder, while the other went to wrap your waist. He pulled you close, so close that you could hear his rapid breath. Your leg went over his waist as well, with arms resting on his chest. After a few minutes, you felt his breath going slower and his grip loosening once again. He fell asleep, and you were to follow soon.

#resident evil #albert wesker #albert wesker headcanons #fluff #ask #anon

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garbria · 2 years ago

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Situation starters: Bloody in an alley with young Cor? Pretty please!

Cor leaned his forehead against the brick, closed his eyes, and took a shaky breath. He forced himself to concentrate on the feel of the rough texture scratching against his face instead of the fire in his stomach, but he was only partially successful. A few stray tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes, despite his best efforts, as the pain spiked everytime he shifted.

Godsdammit.

He was supposed to be better than this. He needed to be better than this. He was the newest member of the prince’s retinue, and he couldn’t fuck up like this.

They had stopped at Lestallum to restock, and Wesk had wanted to wander the market to get some rare ingredients. Regis was looking for some new lures. Clarus was looking for new books, and even Cid was on the lookout for spare parts for the Regalia. Cor had just followed behind them, bored. He didn’t care for stuff, he was just there to drive the car and fight monsters.

But then he noticed someone following them. No matter which direction they went, the same person was just a few feet behind him. He had glanced at Clarus to see if he saw them, but he was engrossed in an argument with Regis over something stupid. So Cor had dropped back, intending to confront their stalker.

The man ducked into a backalley, and Cor followed. The man attacked Cor as soon as Cor entered the alleyway, as expected. Cor deflected the blade, and struck out with his fist, mindful of Wesk’s admonition that it was easier to get information out of them if they were still alive. But the man had a partner that Cor hadn’t seen, a ragged figure Cor had dismissed automatically. The partner grabbed Cor from behind, lifting him by the neck. Cor had bitten the man, and the man let go with a scream. But the distraction had been enough for the first man to stab Cor in the gut. Cor was able to twist at the last second, so it missed his heart, but he still lost his breath as the knife slid into him.

The man behind him grabbed him again, and Cor pulled out his katana, no longer worried about keeping them alive. He pushed the man who stabbed him away, slicing him with the katana, then turning to stab the man who was behind him. They both dropped, no longer threats. But the knife was still in his stomach, waves of pain radiating from it made worse by his movement.

So here he was, holding himself upright by sheer will and the assistance of a wall, trying to figure out his next move. He should go find the others. He should deal with the knife in his gut. He should do anything but just stand here, which is what he was doing. He could feel the warmth of the blood as it leaked out of the wound, but the rest of him felt so cold. He was just lucid enough to know that was a bad sign.

No, he could do this. He just needed to remove the knife and pull out one of their potions. Regis had given him access to the armiger for this sort of thing. He could use the practice anyway. He gripped the handle of the knife and pulled before he could think too deeply about it. The next thing he knew, he was on his knees in the alley, staring at the trash scattered around. The warmth down his side had turned into a flood, and he knew he should be worried about that, but his attention was stolen by papers on the ground. Was that a menu for that restaurant Wesk wanted to try?

Time seemed to fade, along with his vision, but suddenly there were hands on his shoulders and a familiar face shouting his name. He heard glass breaking, and Cor shivered as the magic took hold.

“Cor! Cor! Are you alright? What happened?”

Cor shook Regis off and stood up as the pain faded, thanks to the potion. “These people were following us, but I took care of it.”

“I can see that,” Wesk said, eyebrows raised as he surveyed the scene. “Cid, why don’t you take Cor back to the hotel while we handle this?”

Cor made a face, but knew better than to argue when Cid gave him that look. They headed back to the hotel as Cor dreaded the coming lecture.

#whumpwriterforlife #cor leonis #ffxv #regis lucis caelum #weskham armaugh #my fic #bby cor #canon typical violence #blood and injury #bby cor has a bad time #we all have off days #XD #cid is going to give cor the talk about waiting for back up #not for the first or last time

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awlwren-writes · 2 years ago

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6 on the kiss meme for Cornyx in the Smoke and Mirrors au XD

Sorry to take so long; the words were in open rebellion. I blame Cor. Kiss #6: "...on a falling tear"

Cor had been a soldier a long time. He had lost a lot of friends, a lot of comrades. He had gotten used to having nightmares. He had a routine. He got up, he either did stretches in his kitchen or took a stroll around the block – just something to center himself in his body, nothing that would really feel like fighting or a mission – and then he would make himself a cup of tea and drink it slowly while reviewing the layers of security protecting each of the people he loved. Sometimes he would write letters to Cid or Wesk to review in the morning and either burn or send along. Sometimes he would write letters to Noctis or Nyx to set aside for a time when he might not be here and they might want to hear the words he could never directly tell them. Sometimes he would write letters to Clarus or Regis, raging about fate and his frustration at not being able to help them in the ways they needed. Those he always burned.

And then he would wash his mug, rinse off in the shower to wash all the feelings away, and go back to bed and try and get as much sleep as he could so he didn’t get anyone killed the next day.

The routine had had two major changes over the long years he’d been the Marshal of the Crownsguard. The more recent was the introduction of Nyx into his life and his bed. Now when he went about his routine, he did so as quietly as possible to let Nyx rest more. Before then, he’d sometimes played music and danced all by himself for his exercise, but now that just made him lonely, and when he was lonely he was tempted to wake Nyx up dance with him and missed him more when he wasn’t there. It was worth the loss, though, for the way his pillows smelled like Nyx when he went back to bed.

The first major change had been the tea he used. He’d started out with just a basic herbal tea he had vaguely recalled someone telling him was good for helping sleep when he was a kid. But one of his comrades had come over to drop off some paperwork for…something. He didn’t even remember anymore. Anyway, they had come by and made fun of his tea collection, calling him a superstitious septuagenarian, and Cor had rescinded his offer and kicked the laughing soldier out of his house. The next day he’d found a collection of fine teas from Cavaugh proper in his inbox, and he’d gotten a different variety every year on the dot.

It had proved to be a useful addition, as not only were the teas excellent, it helped to serve as a benchmark of what year he was in, a tether he could trace back to other memories of things that had happened, good and ill, since he’d started this blend and grounded him in the reminder of what was real and important. Nyx, once he’d started to come to Cor’s apartment for more than just waiting around while Cor changed into casual clothes, had offered detailed critiques of each blend and helped him use up some of the back-logs of the ones he hadn’t quite finished when the year was up, but Cor tried not to think that hard about them. He just liked them, as he’d liked each one.

Tonight, as he stared down in horror at the cup he’d prepared as he so often had before, the tea was just an awful reminder that his nightmare was all too real. Titus Drautos was the man behind Glauca’s mask, and had betrayed each of them and all the glaives under his command too many times to count, and nearly caused both Nyx and him to die less than a month ago. That wasn’t just his brain playing out worst-case scenarios, it was a literal flashback.

Titus Drautos, who had given him this tea.

It was like with his routine interrupted, he couldn’t move on, literally or figurative. Cor sat staring at his cooling tea, feeling the tears leaking out one by one against his will but was helpless to do anything about either. Titus had been his friend, and Titus had tried to have him killed. Tried to kill him himself, multiple times. Titus had given him this tea, and Titus had let Nyx be poisoned. Poisoned and starved and beaten and all but broken. Titus had continued this little joke and support and vital part of Cor’s life for twenty years, and every single one of them he had been working against everything Cor loved. Cor’s tears turned to full-blown sobs, and he tried to muffle his gasped breaths into his palm, turning away from the damning cup and box of tea. Titus Drautos didn’t deserve his grief. And if Cor hadn’t been smart enough to figure out what was happening, he didn’t deserve to mourn the world he thought had been.

That’s where Nyx found him, shoulders heaving and throat aching from suppressing the noise, his free hand in a death grip on the table. “What’s wrong, Cor?” he asked, limping over on his crutches.

Cor shook his head, fighting harder to control his breath, to get himself under control. He was better than this, and Nyx didn’t deserve the extra stress. Cor hadn’t ever suspected Titus, hadn’t been able to prevent Nyx from getting hurt, and now he’d made him get up in the middle of the night and come get him when Nyx couldn’t even walk without pain. What was he even good for anyway? He turned further away as if he could hide what was happening and tried to force his breathing to calm down. This wasn’t helping anyone.

“Oh, Cor,” Nyx said softly, voice thick with his own pain. “I— Just let it out, I got you.” Cor shook his head but couldn’t stop the tears. Nyx hobbled by him and squeezed his shoulder hard, then rubbed it back and forth a few times, facing toward the kitchen so that Cor had some semblance of privacy. “I got you,” he repeated with one last stroke along Cor’s shoulder, before snatching his mug and hobbling off to the kitchen in what in any other circumstance Cor would have admired as an impressive show of dexterity.

There was the sound of running water and what was presumably his mug being rinsed out, and then something being wrung out before Nyx headed back. Cor had calmed enough by that time that he could hear it, at least, even if he couldn’t yet open his eyes or lift his head. He scrubbed at his eyes before he tried to muffle himself again, ashamed of the almost hiccupping breaths that came after most of the tears were gone.

Nyx eased himself into a chair and stoked a hand along the side of Cor’s face a few times, then back down across his shoulder. “C’mon, Cor, breath for me,” he coaxed, and Cor shook his head more out of stubbornness than any disagreement. Nyx forced out a chuckle and moved his hand to Cor’s chest, rubbing circles there until Cor’s breathing had calmed and he could pull his hands away.

“There you are,” Nyx said fondly. “Now are you going to let me have my turn helping you?” Cor nodded mutely, voice still not cooperating yet.

Nyx seemed to take it as his own cue for silence, because he lifted a warm, wet towel to Cor’s cheeks without another word, gently wiping away the tear tracks before drying his face with what felt like Nyx’s sleep shirt. Cor’s mouth quirked up without his input, but it was kinda funny; of course Nyx hadn’t thought to get a dry towel as well.

“Ha ha,” Nyx mocked, but he was clearly somewhat amused at his own expense as well. “I was worried about you, not thinking that far ahead.” There was a swoosh and then a wet thunk as Nyx tossed the used towel back into the sink, something Cor would normally object to but in this case saved him several exhausting steps with his bad leg.

Cor opened his mouth to say something about times like this being the reason Titus didn’t trust Nyx’s planning skills but cut himself off before he could say a word. He could feel the tears coming back and tried to turn away, angry at himself. Nyx stopped him with a firm hand on his jaw, and then there were warm lips on his cheeks, kissing away the traitorous – ha! – tears. “Its okay to cry, you know. At least that’s what you told me. Were you lying to me?” he teased, his own voice thick. Cor shook his head and was rewarded with another kiss to each cheek and Nyx’s other hand coming up to stroke his hair.

“Then everything’s fine, Cor. I’m here as long as you need me to be.”

So Cor just let himself breathe through the pain, not trying to talk or do anything but lean on Nyx’s strong hand and listen to the air moving in and out of both their lungs.

A small eternity later, Cor leaned back and blinked open his eyes to see Nyx smiling wryly at him in the dim light from the kitchen. “There’re my blue eyes,” he said, voice still low and soothing. “Though I have to admit, red is not your color,” he added, voice and smirk sharpening. Cor figured he had used up his childish points for the month and so resisted sticking his tongue out at his boyfriend, or, more accurately to Cor’s actual childhood, biting him. Instead, he lifted his lip to show his disapproval and levered himself to his feet as Nyx snickered at him, then followed suit more slowly.

Cor reached out a hand to cup under his elbow in support as Nyx sorted out his crutches, earning himself a fond smile before Nyx started his slow way back to the bedroom. “Now c’mon. Shower time for you. I don’t want to disrupt your routine,” he threw back over his shoulder.

“No, we couldn’t have that,” Cor agreed as he turned to follow, ignoring the tin of tea still out on the table. “That would be the worst.”

“The absolute worst.” Nyx agreed, still stubbornly leading him on.

#and get some answers #ffxv #cor leonis #nyx ulric #cornyx #smoke and mirrors #my fics #garbria #ask games #an extra scene to tide you over #sorry for any ooc-ness from Cor

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whumpwriterforlife · 3 years ago

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Could I please request shaking and shivering with Cor? Your writing is so good!

Yes you can! Here you go, shaking and shivering with young Cor!

Shaking and Shivering

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV

Characters: Cor Leonis, Regis Lucis Caelum, Clarus Amicitia, Weskham Armaugh & Cid Sophiar

Whumpee: Cor Leonis

Word count: 3790

Warnings: Sickfic

Can be found on ao3 here

-----

“Wakey, wakey, Sunshine,” Clarus’ voice broke through the sleepy haze surrounding him and then there was a foot nudging him.

Cor grumbled and buried himself deeper into his sleeping bag. His head felt stuffy, his body aching in a way that made him want to do nothing but close his eyes and drift off again.

It was a luxury Clarus didn’t grant him.

Suddenly the world tilted, eliciting a startled yelp from Cor as he scrambled to hold onto the sleeping bag as Clarus dragged him out of the tent by the foot-end of the sleeping bag.

“Hey! You’re buying me a new one if this one gets torn!” He ended up sounding more whiny than anything as he swore at the Shield. Clarus dumped him in front of the fire unceremoniously and laughed as Cor tried — and failed — to smack him. Cor pouted.

“Ah, just in time for breakfast,” Weskham said from somewhere to his left, and Cor turned his head to see him walk over with a bowl of something in his hands. “Here, have some.”

Cor quietly accepted the bowl and peered down at its contents. It was oatmeal with nuts and fruit toppings. Normally he would have been ecstatic about it — it was definitely better than the weird sludge-like ratios they sometimes had — but he didn’t feel hungry this time. He poked some of the fruits with a spoon. Knowing Weskham, or any other of those damn motherhens, they wouldn’t let him get away with skipping the meal. With a resigned sigh, Cor shuffled his way out of the sleeping bag. He instantly missed the warmth of it as he settled down on one of the chairs surrounding the fire.

Regis gave him a curious look from across the fire but said nothing as he dug into the oatmeal. Cor pulled his legs to his chest, ignoring the dirty look Weskham sent his way at that, and slowly started working his way through the oatmeal. At least it was warm if nothing else.

“You’re looking awfully pale this morning. Are you feeling alright, Cor?” Weskham asked as he sat down in the chair next to him.

“I’m fine,” Cor replied and rolled his eyes. It was just a bad day, a minor cold at worst. There was no reason to worry the others with it when he could handle it.

“Are you sure?” Regis asked. “You do look off today.”

Weskham seemed to take this as an invitation to reach over to touch Cor’s forehead. Cor slapped his hand away and sunk deeper into the chair with an unhappy grumble. “Leave me alone. I’m fine.”

Clarus’ eyes narrowed. “Cor...”

Regis put his hand on Clarus’ arm and shook his head. “Let’s finish eating. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“Fine,” Clarus said and shrugged off Regis’ hand before going to get himself breakfast.

Cor stayed silent as they finished eating, barely even greeting Cid as the man appeared from who knows where. He scooted his chair slightly closer to the fire as a shiver raked through his body. It was late Fall, the beginning of the Winter really, and he blamed it on that. He still didn’t have a thick jacket, partly because it was a hindrance in a fight but also because of the cost. Hopefully they would get to the warmer parts of Lucis soon so he wouldn’t have to worry about getting one.

“What’s the plan for today?” Cor asked when the last of the bowls had been put away. They were all still sitting around the fire, watching as the sun rose higher in the sky.

“Well, while you were still sleeping and wasting daytime, Clarus and me went over to a local tipster and got ourselves a few hunts. Nothing too bad but enough to pay for Regalia’s repairs,” Cid told him and sent a glare in Regis’ direction at the last part. Cor snickered. It was the second time Regis had wrecked the Regalia since they had left Insomnia.

“Oh give it a break, Cid, that was hardly my fault,” Regis huffed and got up from his chair.

“You hit a parked car,” Clarus pointed out as he watched Regis disappear into the tent. “The only other car on the lot.”

“It shouldn’t have been parked there!” Regis protested.

“Whatever you say,” Clarus shook his head with a smirk.

Cid looked at the two of them for a moment before rolling his eyes. “The first job is to take care of a pack of saberclaw. According to the map, it takes thirty minutes to drive there and another thirty to hike to their last known location. From there, we’ll head towards Malmalam Thicket for our second hunt.”

“What’s the second hunt?” Cor asked, half dreading the answer. He had hoped the day would be easy, one he could spend sitting in a car, but of course that couldn’t be the case. At least, if he had done the math correctly, he would be able to get a few hours of sleep on the drive to Malmalam Thicket.

“Seadevils,” Clarus told him with an unsettling grin. He was just as much a daredevil as Cor was, even if he was better at hiding it. “Should be fun.”

Cor suppressed a groan. Neither hunt would be exactly easy and there would be no room for slip ups. He got up from his chair. “Right.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Weskham clapped his hands together and nodded. “We should all pack up so we can be on the road as soon as possible.”

Cor grabbed his sleeping bag from the ground and vanished it into the armiger without even bothering to roll it up. He got a few weird looks for it but ignored them as he went to grab his things from the tent.

“I’ll just go wait by the car.”

“No you don’t,” Clarus said and grabbed him by the back of his jacket before he could leave the haven. “It’s your turn to take down the tent.”

Cor yanked his jacket out of Clarus’ grip and glared at the man. Clarus glared right back at him.

This was going to be an awful day.

----

Cor felt like death warmed over. His feet felt leaden as he tried to keep up with everyone else as they hiked towards the Maidenwater Bridge and the second hunt of the day. He buried his face into the crook of his elbow to suppress a cough. Fortunately he was far enough behind the group that they didn’t notice. His condition had only worsened throughout the day. He was cold, frozen to the bone. He was wearing two long-sleeves and the thickest jacket he had — which admittedly wasn’t all that thick — but he was still shivering. His head felt stuffy and he was having a hard time focusing on anything. None of this was exactly good when hunting.

Cor was still committed to making it through the day. What kind of ‘guard would he be if he couldn’t do his job because of a little cold? There were so many people that doubted him, that were just waiting for him to fail and fall, many of them his fellow Crownsguards. He wasn’t going to give them that satisfaction which meant he would just have to power through the rest of the day, one way or another.

“Eos to Cor!” Cor’s head jerked up and he saw Clarus looking at him over his shoulder. The Shield gave him a pointed look. “Keep up, we’re almost there.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Cor rolled his eyes but took off in a jog to catch up to the guys.

He hoped the Seadevils wouldn’t put up too much of a fight. He had heard of them and knew roughly how they acted when engaged but he had never actually fought them. At least the Saberclaw pack hadn’t given them much trouble. No curatives had been used and no one had gotten injured. Well, no one if they didn’t count Regis tripping over a tree root when they had been on their way back to the Regalia. That had been hilarious.

They soon arrived at the bridge. It didn’t take long for them to see the Seadevils. There were five of them just chilling on the shoreline on the other side of the river. Cor pressed his lips into a thin line. They were larger than he had expected. Still manageable but more annoying.

“Well those look vicious,” Regis remarked dryly.

“Those jaws look like they’d have no trouble snapping any of us in half,” Weskham nodded as he scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I suggest we all exercise caution when approaching these creatures. Regis, my research indicates they’re weak to ice elemancy.”

“Excellent,” Regis grinned and Cor glanced at him just in time to see his hands flash light blue. Clarus patted him on the shoulder with a laugh and summoned his broadsword. They were both way too excited about this hunt. Cor would have most likely been right there with them, all ready to fight, if he hadn’t been feeling like shit.

“Let’s get this over with before sundown, don't wanna be stuck out here when the daemons come out,” Cid told them, sounding as grouchy as ever as he started crossing the bridge. Clarus grabbed Regis and was quick to follow him.

Cor sighed, pulling out his katana from the armiger as he walked after the trio. He only made it a couple of steps before there was a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to see Weskham looking at him with worry. “Yeah?”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Weskham asked him. “You’re all pale and don’t quite seem to be your usual energetic self today. If you need to-”

“I’m fine, Wesk,” Cor told him, more forceful than he needed as he pulled away from the man. He needed to see this through and could rest when they were back at camp. “The others are going, I don’t want to fall behind.”

Weskham pressed his lips together, clearly less than happy with Cor, but said nothing. Cor took that as his cue to pick up the pace to catch up to everyone else.

Regis and Clarus had already thrown themselves into the fight like the adrenaline junkies that they were and Cid wasn’t far behind them with his trusty spear. Cor jogged down to the shore, ignoring how lightheaded and out of breath it made him feel as he attacked the Seadevil closest to him.

He let his training and instincts take over from there, striking and slashing wherever he could as he avoided ending up a snack. The teeth on those things were large and sharp. If that wasn’t enough, they also shot water out of their mouths with pressure that would easily knock any one of them over. Cor hissed as he twisted out of the way when one Seadevil lunged at him, its jaws snapping shut with a downright terrifying snap. He staggered, barely managing to keep his balance. Adrenaline was a huge help, possibly the only thing keeping him upright at this point, but he was lacking his usual finesse.

It became even more evident when he was forced to evade yet another attack. He staggered, the sleeve of his jacket getting torn in the process as he yanked it out of the beast’s maw. A hand on the shoulder stabilized him, and he craned his neck to see Cid behind him.

“You need to be more careful, kid,” Cid told him. Then he was off, back into the fight.

Cor shook his head and muttered a curse under his breath. He was starting to feel a hint of frustration at how badly he was performing.

“Cor!”

Cor spun on his heels at Clarus’ shout but a heavy weight collided with him before he could see the situation. He gasped, his foot catching on a rock as he tried and failed to recover his balance. His katana disappeared in a flash of blue, a startled yelp escaping his lips as he fell into the freezing cold water.

He gasped for breath. The icy water soaked through his clothes in an instant. He couldn’t breathe. Cold. It was so cold. His whole body felt stiff, and he tried to push himself onto his elbows to get out of the water but they gave out from beneath him. He was shivering worse now.

“Regis get him out of here!”

There was sloshing as someone ran into the water and cursed at the coldness of it. A moment later there were hands propping Cor into a sitting position. Regis said something, his eyes tight with concern as he looked at him but Cor was too busy catching his breath to register the words. Regis threw his sword and his grip around Cor tightened. The world lurched in and out of focus and Cor’s stomach churned dangerously. Then they hit the ground by the bridge, away from the fight.

Cor screwed his eyes shut, a strained noise slipping from his lips as he shivered violently. “Regis-”

Regis pulled him into a better position and started tugging off his jacket. “We need to get you out of these wet clothes.”

“But- but the h-hunt,” Cor pointed out. He was still struggling to catch his breath, his teeth chattering together.

“The others can take care of it, we need to make sure you won’t get hypothermic.” Regis stated sternly and threw Cor’s jacket aside. Cor frowned softly, almost tempted to whine as he looked at the rock pile where his jacket landed. It was his best jacket and Regis had just thrown it away like it was nothing. Cor was about to turn and tell him to fetch it but he was overtaken by a coughing fit. He whimpered.

“Cor, look at me.”

Cor’s gaze flicked over to Regis, only to flinch when he reached over to touch his forehead. He tried to move away but his stiff muscles refused to obey him.

“Shit, you’re burning up,” Regis cursed as he pulled his hand away. “Have you been sick this whole day? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It’s nothing,” Cor shook his head, regretting it when he was hit by a dizzy spell.

“It’s clearly not ‘nothing’!” Regis retorted. He ran a hand through his hair and muttered something unflattering under his breath. “Astrals, that explains a lot. We just thought you were mad at Clarus for what happened in the morning.”

Cor made a confused noise.

Regis sighed. “We’ll talk about this later. We still need to get you out of those wet clothes and away from here.”

The good thing about the armiger was that it made carrying items easy and was always accessible. Regis helped Cor out of his wet clothes quickly and into a pair of warm sweats and a coat he happened to have lying around — floating around? — in the armiger. Cor had tried to tell him he could do it on his own but the way he was shaking told Regis otherwise.

“How’s the kid?”

Cor looked up to see the rest of the guys walking over to them, having taken care of the Seadevils.

“The ‘kid’ is right here.” He glared at them but the effect was ruined when another shiver shook his frame.

“He’s running a fever,” Regis said. “Been sick the whole day most likely if not longer.”

“Could you guys stop talking like I wasn’t here?”

“You what?” Clarus asked, brow furrowed as he looked at Cor. “Is that true?”

Cor shrugged. It was no use hiding the truth anymore. “Yeah, but it’s-”

“And you didn’t think to tell us? Do you realize how stupid that was!” Clarus exclaimed as he cut him off. Cor clenched his jaw and dropped his gaze to the ground as the Shield continued, “Your job is to keep Regis safe and then you just neglected to tell us-”

“Clarus,” Regis admonished him.

“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you!” Cor snapped, getting to his feet even as he swayed dangerously. Regis was quick to take him by the arm and stabilize him. Cor didn’t brush him off. “If I had told you, you would have left me behind and been one man short! I did my job, I wasn’t going to let a minor cold take this from me!”

At the end of his tirade, he felt all the energy drain out of him and faltered. Regis wrapped both of his arms around him to keep him from falling.

Clarus opened his mouth to say something but Regis silenced him with a sharp look.

No one said anything for a moment but eventually Cid broke the silence. He shook his head as he glanced at each member of the group. “The sun won’t be up for much longer. We need to find a haven.”

“No, we’re going back to the car,” Regis said as he pulled one of Cor’s arms over his shoulders and wrapped his other arm around his waist. His tone left no room for arguments. “We’re finding a motel for the night.”

“We’ll need to move fast then.” Weskham walked over to where most of Cor’s wet clothes had been discarded and picked them up. “The roads are perilous at night.”

“Right, we should get going then,” Clarus sighed. He crossed the gap between him and Cor, sliding the kid’s hand over his shoulders to support him from the other side.

Cor had a childish urge to push Clarus away after the outburst but he had very little energy left. He shivered, taking a shuddering breath as they started walking. His feet were stiff and sore, as was his whole body, and Regis and Clarus ended up having to support most of his weight. They kept up a steady stream of chatter and made Cor participate so he didn’t fall asleep. At a few points during their trek to the car, they had to stop when Cor got overcome with violent coughing fits that left him unsteady and gasping for air. It was clear that his impromptu river bath had only made his condition worse.

They eventually got to the Regalia, where he was safely tucked to the back seat with Weskham, Regis, and their best-equipped first-aid kit. They denied Cor the warm blanket in it which elicited a barely suppressed whine out of him.

“You have a high fever,” Weskham kindly informed him, as if Cor hadn’t been aware of that before the stupid thermometer had beeped with 39,4 °C. “We need to get your temperature down, not up.”

“I’m cold,” Cor complained as he wrapped his arms around himself.

“You just feel cold,” Weskham replied as he dug through the first-aid kit for something.

“Same difference.”

Regis snorted and patted Cor on the shoulder. Cor pouted. At least one of them was having fun.

A moment later Weskham pushed a water bottle into Cor’s hand and offered him two pills. “These should help lower your fever. Take them and drink as much of the water as you can.”

Cor took the pills as ordered and managed to down nearly half of the water before giving it back to Weskham. He then pointedly ignored everyone in the car, except for Regis and his comfy shoulder that was acting as his makeshift pillow, as he closed his eyes. It didn’t take long for the steady rumble of the car to lull him to sleep.

He stirred an indeterminate amount of time later when a car door slammed shut. His nose scrunched up and he made a soft, disgruntled noise at being woken up. Someone chuckled above him, and it was then that he realized he was not in the car anymore. It took a moment longer for him to pick up on the fact that someone was carrying him. If he had had any more energy, he would have been mortified, but as it was, he could barely crack his eyes open to see it was Regis.

Regis looked down at him, a playful smile on his lips. “Go back to sleep, Cor. We just arrived at the motel.”

Cor blinked at him blearily as his brain registered the words. He licked his lips and frowned. “I can walk.”

“Of course you can,” Regis stated matter-of-factly but didn’t even pretend to put him down. “And I can carry you.”

“Just let him do it, kid,” Cid said. Cor craned his neck to see the man walking a few steps behind them. “Reggie can and will outstubborn you this time.”

Cor huffed. Regis carried him into their motel room and lowered him on one of the beds. He closed his eyes and flopped down on his back, only for his head to snap up a moment later when he felt hands tugging on his boots.

“What are you doing?” “Taking off your shoes,” Clarus said, rolling his eyes.

“I can-” Cor started and went to sit up.

Cid pushed him back down. “Wesk wants you to take it easy, so take it easy.”

“I can take off my own shoes!” Cor grumbled but didn’t try to get up again.

“Let us take care of you for once,” Regis said as he sat down next to Cor. Clarus muttered something about how it would have been nice to have some help with the boots but Regis ignored him. “You’re our brother, we want to help.”

Cor turned his head to look at Regis. He wondered if the fever was making him hear things. “But-”

“But nothing,” Regis cut him off. “You worried us today, Cor. You could have been badly injured. We know you’re as stubborn as can be, but we need you to tell us if you’re sick or injured in any way. Out here we’re on our own and need to take care of each other.”

“I’m sorry,” Cor sighed.

Regis smiled. “It’s okay. Try to get some rest. We’ll wake you up when we have food.”

Cor hummed, eyes falling shut once again. Regis helped him get under the covers and Cor offered no complaints this time. When he felt Regis start to rise, he reached out to grab his arm.

“Regis? About the brothers thing.”

“What is it?”

Cor smirked. “Cid’s old enough to be my grandad…”

There was a crashing sound somewhere in the room, followed by swearing. “How old does that brat think I am?”

“Probably sixty or something,” Clarus muttered in amusement.

“Listen here, Amicitia, I could-”

“Cid! Clarus-” Regis began but the words turned into incoherent mush as Cor drifted off. Hopefully the motel would be still standing when he woke up.

#badthingshappenbingo #shaking and shivering #final fantasy xv #ffxv #cor leonis #hurt cor leonis #regis lucis caelum #clarus amicitia #cid sophiar #weskham armaugh #sickfic #fever #coughing #whump #my writing #young cor leonis #hurt/comfort #soft ending

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whostarlockeda03 · 3 years ago

Note

Cor?

I may or may not have forgotten I reblogged an ask meme lately and been confused as heck by this ask for a while XD

First impression: Hmm, so. My first impression of Cor was not all that flattering, in all honesty. I was watching my lovely friend TheDarkestDandelion play through the game, and I hardly had my head around who was who in the chocobros when we reached that cutscene. So when I first met Cor, it was just oh hey woah! The protagonist's life went to hell in a handbasket overnight and here is this dude on a phone call like "So, you made it. FYI your dad really is dead."

I was like wowwwwwwwwwwwww. This guy.

Impression now: Cor is such a good guy! I can't - He's just - He joined the guard at thirteen and survived a fight with a literal living legend and did well enough that said legend remembers him thirty years later and he got taken in by Regis and worked for Mors and IT GIVES ME FEELINGS because how can they tell us all this and not give us more of Cor like square why?!!?!?! There's so much depth to him that we never ever get to see which is nice because we get to write fics about it but also sad because we so clearly got robbed.

Cor's been through so much stuff (even only going off what is canon) I just wanna give him a bazillion hugs.

Favourite moment: Honestly at the end of the Cerberus fight at the end of the game. "Perhaps we'll meet again... at daybreak." absolutely destroyed me. 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

Idea for a story: Oh I have so many ideas. So many! I have nine more ideas for my Cor series I Will Be, and that doesn't even take into account all the other ideas I have for him. Oohhh to pick one to tell you about...

Okay, I'm a long way off posting this one, but I have an idea for a dark!Cor au where Drautos wasn't the only traitor that managed to sneak into the king's inner circle, except now he's there, Cor kinda sort of really doesn't want to kill the enemy king, because's actually he's kinda.... nice?

Unpopular opinion: Hmm, not actually sure how unpopular this opinion is, but I like to think that underneath all the stoicism that Cor's actually a hot mess of a guy stumbling through life with absolutely no clue how he managed to end up where he is and what to do now he's there. He's the very epitome of a competent dork.

Favourite relationship: For me, this depend entirely on the situation, but my favourite one would probably have to be CorNyx, thanks to @ertrunkenerwassergeist's fic Heart of Thunder , notavodkashot's fic The Sun is Out, The Day is New and Summertime_Poet's fic Shelter from the Storm (@murderous-coffeebean)

You guys are all amazing writers and I wholeheartedly recommend all their fics!

Favourite headcanon: Young Cor doesn't know what to do with kindness. He just... he had a rough start in life, and the concept was foreign to him, right up until he got forcibly adopted by Regis, Clarus, Cid and Wesk. They are kind to him, always, and he does not know how to respond to this.

Also that he's the one that rescued Prompto!

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pathoscleaved · 4 months ago

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@bound-valour sent:

Reverse + [not yet] : sender’s muse edges receiver’s muse

↳ nsfw, kinda kinky symbol prompts

CHRIS IS AN EXQUISITE MASTERPIECE SPLAYED BEFORE HIM: LAYING ON HIS BACK, WRISTS BOUND TO HIS THIGHS, ROPES CROSSING ACROSS HIS PERFECT FORM, ANCHORING HIS LEGS SO HE CAN'T MOVE AWAY FROM THE ATTENTION OR AFFECTION. Redfield is prey, caught in Albert's lovingly-constructed red web of hemp rope he'd dyed and tempered himself. The pillow and sheets beneath him are black, Chris's sunkissed skin so peachy next to such a dark background. And the man is already sweating and writhing, making attempts to not show just how much pleasure he was in - not wanting to give Bert the satisfaction. But he is more than satsified seeing who he considers his equal beneath him, trying to test the binds.

"Oh, Beloved," he whispers hotly at the shell of his ear, "you're mine. All mine." A wet stripe is licked from his earlobe down to the hot column of Chris's throat, where his pulse is rabbit-quick against Wesker's tongue. It's like a drug: the rush Albert gets from having Chris like this.

In a teasing gesture, Albert steps back to follow the rope with his eyes. His masterpiece was almost complete; he'd already made sure to add some ropes around Chris's ass, so when he slid into him, Redfield would feel the rope press against him. And on certain thrusts, his nipples would be stimulated by the chord - Poor Chris had little movement with his wrists to his thighs, and he was so open. . .

Now, all that remained was for the thinner rope to wrap around that flushed cock. Albert kneels before him, a grin lifting one corner of his mouth.

"You are so handsome for me. So perfect, Chris."

Wesk's tongue traces the underside of his head, and slowly, Albert winds the rope around the base of his shaft. Not too tight. Just enough for pressure.

Orange-gold embers burn as he watches his reaction, hungrily soaking it in. Chris's breathing is a little more laboured, and it's so endearing. He tugs his cock up with the rope, mouth seeking the seam of his balls. Albert licks along it slowly, and then mouths and sucks at each one before he ties a few knots across them.

"I'll take care of you," he whispers, mouthing at Chris's balls again, now that they're covered in rope, "but you are only going to come from my cock. Do you understand?"

In a devious movement, Albert leaves a small, dark hickey into the tender flesh, and seeing the purple mark on the seam when he pulls back, he gives a satisfied hum of delight. Chris is twitching, leaking from his cock practically like a faucet.

"Mine," he whispers, taking Redfield's cock in hand. Albert presses slow kisses to it, as worshipful as he is trying to edge him. When he craves the weight of him on his tongue, Wesk flattens the pink muscle and instructs Chris to fuck his mouth. Seeing him strain is so satisfying - he can't, he's tied.

Being a little cruel, Albert gives him little flicks, and then, with mischief dancing in his eyes, Wesker takes him into his mouth in one go, the quick glide enough to make Bert groan and twitch against the corner of the bed. He sucks, hard, desperate to feel tension surge into Chris's legs - a telltale sign he was about to finish - so he can ruin it.

"Tsk, tsk."

A few swirls of his tongue and head bobbing, and Albert pulls off of him, grinning. Instead of release, Chris gets the rope further tied around his cock, weaving over it and emphaszing the head.

Wesker kisses along the ropes and knots, just to watch Chris's further reaction. And when he's satisfied, Albert stands, pulls Chris to the edge of the bed, and stands between his thighs. He wets two of his fingers, making a show of it, and then he's tracing Chris's hole slowly, just to make him ache.

"Have to reshape you, anyway," he murmurs, index finger dipping into that pucker to stretch it out. "Been too long since you knew the shape of my cock, hm, Beloved?" The second finger dips in and twists. Albert grinds against some of the ropes on Chris's right thigh to relieve some of the pressure. His free hand, however, moves to card through his lover's hair.

"You're going so good for me. I love you. Breathe deep. Let me in."

#nsft cw #boundvalour #valourbound. ( dear heart of mine )#EXCUSE WESK HE WENT OFF #IDK FEELS LIKE BU TIME

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birth-fic-lover · 5 years ago

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Modern day rapunzel

Stephenie Prince couldn't tell you what made her look up the day she moved into her new home. It was a home her parents owned, they offered it to Stephenie to live in whilst she was studying. As she parked her car into the drive she had noticed a old woman getting into a hurst. The flowers around the coffin read Son, Stephanie felt for the old woman to have outlived her child. But as the hurst drove away Stephanie went to the back of her car to start bringing some of her belongings. As she did so she looked up into the attic window of the house next door and saw a woman sitting on the window sill looking out.

Stephanie didn't want to stare for too long so she kept going back and forth to the car for each time her eyes kept finding the woman's window. As she went for the last box this time when she looked up she noticed the woman's looking right at her. Their Eyes locked for a second before the woman in the window disappeared behind the curtain.

That evening Stephanie couldn't get her out of her mind, she wondered why she hasn't been going to the funeral. The old woman next door hadn't returned yet, maybe she could visit them both tomorrow both to introduce herself and and say that she was sorry for their loss.

Stephanie went into the garden wanting to to check out the shed before the summer sun went down. As she slipped into the garden she could hear a beautiful sound, she could hear singing from above her. As she looked up up she noticed the attic from next door had another window at the back, the beautiful woman was once again sat on the windowsill but this window was open. Song she was singing was in a language Stephanie did not understand.

Forgetting about the garden shed Stephanie went further into the garden so that the woman could see her. As soon as the woman's eyes locked on Stephanie she stops singing, she was about to retreat when Stephanie call up to her.

"Wait I just wanted to introduce myself, can I come over?" She asked.

But the woman just looked panicked, she shook her head.

"Do you not speek English?" Stephanie asked.

"I do" the woman called down in a English accent, she thought for a second. "I'm kinda trapped up here, I couldn't let you in even though I'd love too".

"Trapped? Like a prisoner? Should I call the police?" Stephanie asked.

"NO" the woman shouted the panic returning to her face. "the police never believe me, the old lady who lives here she knows how to to spin a tale in her favour".

Stephenie thought for a second, she then noticed that if she put her hands and see in the gaps in the brickwork she could climb up. Something compelled her to test the theory, despite the woman's shrieks of shock she climbed up and up until she reached the woman's window.

But she wasn't prepared for what she saw, the woman had long blonde hair but she also had add a gentle Curve to her belly. It was obvious she was expecting.

"She has you trapped up here in your condition?" Stephenie asked in amazement.

"Yes, but I have the feeling once this child is born she will have no more use for me".

"What do you mean?" Stephanie asked

"That old woman got me as a child, I never knew my mother and father. I went to school and had a normal life, until I came out to her. She wasn't pleased and and eventually came up with the plan of me having a child with her only son hoping this would straighten me out once the motherly instinct hit."

"So he forced himself upon you on his mothers request?"

"No he had to do it, his mother watched us. We were friends, we both hoped I wouldn't become pregnant. But as you can see I his mother got her wish."

Stephenie then put the pieces together "but he is now dead".

"Yes, his mother thinks I killed him by pushing him, but in fact he was trying to to help me escape when he slipped on the stairs and fell. Its clear once the child is born she will take her revenge on me".

"Why don't you escape with me?" Stephanie offered "come next door".

But the long haired woman shook her head "I don't want to risk my childs life".

"Well then let me visit you at least" Stephanie offered.

So started the visits every night, as the women got to know each other they found themselves getting closer. Stephanie would tell Rachel, for that was the woman's name, about her daily classes. As Rachel's belly grew so did the two women love for each other.

Stephanie brought Rachel books on pregnancy, it seems that Rachel was definitely bigger than the average pregnancy. But they both knew that without medical assistance they wouldn't truely know why.

One day as Stephanie climbed into the window she saw Rachel sitting solemnly on her bed. "I've been thinking, maybe I should try to escape again. I need to see a doctor, even knowing a due date would be helpful. With my belly so big I can no longer be sure."

Stephanie nodded, "if that's what you would like to do". Inside she was celabrating, knowing the child would not be taken from Rachel, and both would be safe with her brought her much joy.

But now they had to work out how to smuggle a heavily pregnant woman out of the locked attic. Stephanie knew she would have to do it that night, Rachel looked like she was due any day now. Her belly had dropped and her dress was straining agsinst her abdomen.

So Stephanie returned under the cover of darkness, she had a plan. She grabbed her tools and turned off the power in the house next door, she then herd the old lady fumbling about in the dark. Stephanie had planned to to pretend to offer help to the old lady, hoping to then steal the keys to release her love. But as she knocked on the door she herd the old woman fall. Stephanie froze, she saw that the window was open so she crept into the living room. She used a torch to find the old lady knocked out, Stephanie knew she could let the woman die. She called for an ambulance before grabbing the keys from the old lady's hand, rushing she unlocked the attic door.

"Quickly, the old lady fell. I couldn't leave her so an ambulance is on its way, but we need to be gone by then."

Rachel only nodded guided by only Stephanie's torch light, they made it out the house and into the one nextdoor. All this excitement and nervousness had made her belly ache.

But as they sat catching there breath Rachel looked up, "you need to go back, the ambulance crew, they will ask how you found her. You need to tell them you were worried so broke in and called for them, go wait for them and show them to the old lady."

Stephenie knew Rachel was right, but she didn't want to leave her. "Okay I'll be back as soon as they take her away".

As Rachel hears the front door close she feels it, the first proper twinge in her womb.

"No no no" she thinks rubbing her large belly in small circles, shd sits down on the sofa hoping not having gravity pull her heavy womb lower would help. This was not the time, she had to hope this was just the braxton hicks she had read about. Even if it wasn't she had planty of time, Stephanie would be back soon.

Rachel looked around the room that was unfamiliar to her, but 20 minutes later she gasps taken back by the power of the next pain. She tries to soothe her now hard belly, as the hours tick by they feel like days. The pains keep coming and Rachel starts to worry about if Stephanie is coming back. Unknown to her the paramedics ask an unwilling Stephanie to accompany the old woman in the ambulance.

Stephenie sits as the ambulance rushes though the traffic, her hands in fists resting on her knees. The paramedic working on the old lady looks at her, for a second. "Don't give up on her yet, I know its scary. You got to her in good time".

"How do you know?" Stephanie said not talking about the old lady but Rachel. She felt so bad leaving her, she was so fragile and she wanted to protect her and the unborn child.

When they arrived Stephanie hoped she could get a cab back to the house, but the nurses asked her to start filling out paperwork. It took hours, they said that they needed her to stay on the premises while they operated on the old lady.

She couldn't even call as Rachel didn't have a phone, she felt in her gutt she needed to get home.

Whilst Rachel had watched night become day as she had felt her contractions increase in both frequency and strength. She had managed to climb the stairs slowly, her legs wesk from pain and from being held in the attic for so long. She found the bedroom, she had hoped she could rest the pain away. She thought if this was real she needed to build her strength anyway. But she hardly slept, she felt uncomfortable and heavy. Plus the contractions kept her on edge, she cradled her belly in her arm.

She tried to keep her breathing even, she tried to not think about how large the child was inside of her. The idea of having to deliver this child alone scared her, she hardly knew what she was doing.

After a while longer she accepted that she would have to do this alone, she hoped Stephanie wouldn't mind her delivering on the bed. "Gaaaaaaahhhhhh" she moaned letting out the moan she had been holding back.

She felt her belly squeezing in on itself again and she got on her knees head on the pillow, "gaaaahh gaaaaaahh gahhhh" she gasped at the pain. She tried to catch her breath after it finished, she feared how long and painful the labour would be with such a large child. She wondered if Stephanie would be sad to miss the event, she had tried to hold back but she knew this baby would be born that day. She wondered what had happened to Stephenie, but she had to focus on her child.

Rachel felt a lot of pressure and tried an experimental push, but nothing inside her shifts. The pain get worse and worse until she is howling from it, she just wants it all the stop. The fear from it all makes her tense, she wishes it was just over as she labours with the child she had never planned for.

Then too her relief there is a pop inside of her womb and fluid gushes out, for the first time in hours she smiles. She remembered from the books she read this was good, this meant the baby was coming.

The next contraction urges her to push and Rachel is more then happy to oblige, she bares down and feels the head slipping out of her womb and into her birth canal. She takes of her soaked underwear and her other clothes wanting to be comfortable. She then starts to move position, so that she is now proped up by the head board her legs spread wide.

Rachel couldn't help wriggling on the bed, she curled around her massive stomach as it hardened once more before trying to return to her position back against the bedframe.

She decides that such a big child will need strong pushes, she takes deep breaths and bares down as soon as she feels the urge. To her surprise the baby slides fully into her birth canal, she keeps following her instincts.

"Naaaagggghhhhhh" she moans as she pushes again, she feels herself bulge as the head starts to emerge. Her entrance feels like it has a pulse, with the next push the head is crowning.

She puts her hand between her legs and pushes into it, as she pushes the mass in her hand grows. She feels the head pop out of her and she hopes that this will all be over soon.

She can't believe that she is doing this, the wet head sticks out of her. On the next contraction she battles the shoulders, "gaaaaah gaaaaahhh GAAAHHHH ho ho hooooo". It takes all her strength to keep going, she sobs as the shoulders cause her agony.

With a final might push the baby arrives in a gush of birthing fluid, Rachel picks up the baby careful of the umbilical cord. She hits the child between the shoulders and uses her mouth against his to suck out anything that could of got caught. Suddenly it starts crying and pinking up, she rests him on her chest. Cuddling him close he starts to quieten, Rachel can't help but gasp when suddenly the child whose head was against her breast found her nipple and started to feed. He wasn't as big as she thought he would be, but from how fast he had got used to feeding she felt like that would change.

She smiles feeling the bond between herself and the baby grow, she starts to feel a ache in her womb grow. She at first thought it was the after birth, she shifts off the bed wanting to find somthing sharp to cut her son's cord.

But as she stands she feels something within her womb shift, she leaned against Stephanie's dressing table to steady herself. She lets out a groan as she feels the urge to push come back, she saw some nail scissors and used it to free herself from her son.

She puts him down and rubs her belly, she didn't enjoy the feeling of her womb squeezing something down returning. As she gave a push she felt something hard a familiar travel down her birth canal. She knew instantly as she rubbed her still inflated womb, that there was another child waiting to be born.

While keeping an eye on her first born, Rachel walked around the room trying to encourage the surprise second baby to be born. Gravity pulled the child down alongside her pushes, she widened her legs to receive the child.

Rachel feels her kness bend as she pushes, "Gaaaaahhhhh naaaagggghhhhh" she moans as the baby moves though her aching birth canal. The contractions speed up again not giving her much time in between to recover.

As she swayed her hips her hands gripped her rock-hard abdomen as it tightened around her unborn child, she moaned as she felt the baby’s head drop lower with the aid of gravity.

When she finally gets the head to start emeging, she felt like she couldn't take it anymore. The head slowly began to push her entrance until it bulged into a tear drop shape, she felt between her legs and felt a little bit of the child head. It renewed why she was doing this, she bare down with all her strength. The head pushed her entrance out as it moved out the head started to dangle. Rachel doesn't stop pushing just wanting the baby to crown, her perseverance is rewarded when the head has fully slipped out.

As a shoulder slips out she feels fluid slipping out, she keeps pushing until the baby is born in her hands.

She looked at her son on the bed and the daughter in her hand, just then the door opens and Stephanie rushes upstairs. She is greeted by the sight of her new family.

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slifarianhawk · 8 months ago

Text

Chapter 44: reassuring memories

It's been roughly three months since Albert and I had departed from Jake's and HUNK's presence. Things were strained between us for a moment. It was as to be expected in the basic psychology of our situation. We pretty much rushed back to try and find some sense of normalcy after just over eight years of the detrimental rift that had been the path our lives took.

While we did spend our evenings together, we weren't really doing much but discussing the Uroboros project and its research. Every now and again, we'd talk about the little ones. Albert still seemed always on edge. I read the files on the mental hijacking Spencer had done to the Wesker children. I could see the consistent anxiety on his features. It was more prominent now than when he was in Spencer's clutches in raccoon.

He stood on the balcony of our residence in the African base. His golden hair gleamed in the sunset as his back faced me. I heard a deep, frustrated sigh part from his lips. I had just placed the plates from dinner in the sink and sauntered over to the large sectional next to the door.

I was about midway into my second trimester, and gods, were we being cautious. Steve had me on weekly checkups. I knew it was slightly due to age, but the biggest concern for us was how Angelis and Uroboros would affect our little ones' growth and development. So far, with what we've seen, it's been more like a pregnancy someone in their mid to early twenties would have. There were a couple of discrepancies that we believe could be attributed to my infected status. The first is that the amniotic sac seemed to be thicker as the ultrasound images weren't as clear, and the images show a space between where child one was resting and the actual uterine lining. The second is that the children were developing at a seemingly abnormal rate.

There were no signs of sibling resorption, which was a fear both on the back of mine and Albert's mind. The little ones just seem to have random rapid development spurts and the periods of next to no development. Albert and I put together a theory that the virus was actually slowly going through the D.N.A. and building our children more selectively than having one hundred percent being decided at conception.

I placed my hand on my now pretty well-rounded abdomen. I was about the size I was when I was nine months with both Alistar and Jake. I let out a slight chuckle. The past few months went by like a blink of an eye. I knew Albert's mind was on a seemingly endless time crunch to fix this world, and the more my belly grows, the more it seems to take its toll. I felt a little movement against my hand. With a small smile, I chuckle once more.

"Wesk, my love? Come join me on the sofa. They're moving about." I say over my shoulder, noticing him turn towards me.

"It is about the time they seem to get restless." He said an unusual amount of gentleness in his voice.

He stepped back into the apartment, closing the sliding door behind him. He was wearing his typical collared shirt, but he had it unbuttoned to just below his chest, and he wasn't wearing his belt that he normally didn't take off until we were doing our nightly routine.

He sat on the cushion directly to my left, and to my surprise, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his chest. He was breathing slightly heavier than normal.

"What is going through your mind, Wesk?" I said, staring up into his glowing eyes that weren't shaded for once.

"I was just going back to our wedding, my precious lotus. How many things have changed and how little we have actually come." He said his other hand now just above my own on my tummy.

It was as if the children could sense that Albert was there. As soon as his hand was fully rested, I felt three different little shuffles. I heard a completive hmm from Wesk.

"They know when their father is near. I can't wait to actually see them and hold them." I smile, nuzzling my face against his chest.

"I know, dearheart. Personally I am just waiting for next Saturday to arrive. To see you in a lovely bridal gown once more walking towards me down an aisle, a bouquet of lily's and carnations in your hand waiting to take mine at the end of your stride. But unlike the vows I made to you fifteen years ago, the promises I make to you this time are for eternity, my goddess." He whispered in my ear.

I hum contently, we were doing different vows this time. They were based on some interesting one we watched recently but agreed that before we say them, we would give our new oaths to each other and bind them with the vow.

"To be your warm spring sunlight that awaits you at the end of your harsh winters blizzard." I lightly smile remembering our wedding.

"And to be your stalwart shield there to guard and stand affront all that would dare to harm you." He whispered back, a pained expression flickered across his eyes for the briefest of moments,"you my lovely lotus never let that leave your heart as you did as you promised. You came back at the end of my most dreadful winter. You brought me the brightest joy i have experienced since that day so many years ago."

"Albert, my treasure. Do you remember what our first dance was to during the reception? Do you remember the color of the venues walls as we held each other and slowly spun around?" I asked, stroking his cheek.

He let out a resoundingly relaxed breath, "The venue was a deep charcoal grey with mahogany flooring. The rafters were covered with soft white string lights that gently coated the dance floor in the most subtle light. It made your face glow like a starlight. Our song was a testimony to the promise we'd made for each other when you were first sent to Russia in '82, Faithfully by Journey. You never raised your head from my chest during that whole song." He said, rubbing his hand that was along my back through my hair.

"I'm glad you remember my beloved." I sighed as tears slowly slipped down my cheeks, "Surgei tainted those memories for me. Sometimes, when he was experimenting on me or beating me to a pulp, he'd play Faithfully. He gained some sort of sick pleasure from watching me freeze when the song started."

Albert quickly lifted me into his lap and cradled me in his arms. I was able to hide my face as I heard him lightly sush me. He was stern in his tone but resolute in his grip.

"Dry your tears, dearheart." He cooed as his calloused hand ran along the swell of my baby bump, "Think back to that first night we shared a bed together, the night we decided to say screw the standard at the management training facility. When we decided to delve into our intimate selves beyond the meger fingerings and blow job's. Our first times not only at a sexual standpoint but our first time having sex with each other."

I stopped the second he said that and thought for a moment. My tears expodiously stopped as the memory surfaced. The memory took the precipice of my thoughts. The passionate kisses, the heat, and tension between us were still freshly imprinted on my mind.

The way Albert had been slowly building me up with his fingers the week prior, leaving me spaced out and yearning for him to make us whole. My body felt flush against him as the memories of that night washed away the deeply troubling thoughts that were plaguing my heart.

A light flutter under my hand brought me to the present. This was where I was supposed to be. Held by my dangerous beloved curled up in his warm, strong arms as our unborn little ones reach out for us.

It was these moments and the important memories of our that reassured me, the road I walked was right. Challenging is an understatement, but my heart knew that the end would be worth it. Even as a monster, this moment brought me such serene peace.

"Wesk, I have something I need to show you." I said, smiling as I stood up, walking towards our room.

"What is it, my precious lotus?" He asks curiously, following me shutting the door behind us.

I walked over to the closet and pulled out a sealed garment bag, laying it on the bed.

"So it finally arrived then?" He said, running his lips against my ear as I unzipped the thick black plastic cover.

"Yes, I wanted us to see it together. It is not like this is a wedding gown." I smiled as I stroked Albert's jawline, turning to face him, "Pull it out of the bag, Wesk."

And that was exactly what he did. Stepping aside of me, Albert folded the plastic back, revealing a two-piece laced lavender maternity gown. The pieces were perfectly made to expose my very swollen abdomen. The intricate design of the floral lace was made to cradle our little ones. The lavender slowly faded into a soft cream like color along the skirt. While the patterns were shining bright with silver colored thread expertly crafted into the lacy lotus's.

He looked down at my eyes as I looked up for some hint of approval from him. He turned and took my puffy face into his hand. With a couple of strokes of his thumb, he leaned down and captured my lips with his.

"You are still quite a minx dearheart. That you would have our children the center of everyone's attention. Showing off how much you live to serve your god." He whispered in my ear, a deep blush growing across my face,"it's the perfect choice for our renewal, my precious lotus. I can't wait to see you walk down to me in this."

"Soon my treasure. Next Saturday, we will bind ourselves to each other again. I promise I'll be walking down to your arms this time next week." I say as Albert wraps his arms around me and the babies.

"I know, my love. Come, let's get you to a shower so you can rest. You haven't been resting as much as you should be. I know our little ones are as fiery as us both. Even in their unborn states, I can tell they are draining you of your energy." He said, looking at the slightly darker bags under my eyes.

"OK, my love. Will you help me with my back? I could really use someone who knows my body so well that he'd never neglect a single nook and cranny." I said in a luscious voice.

I hear a slight growl from Albert's chest. He took the bait and lifted me into his arms.

"Such a minx indeed, dearheart." He said, walking into the shared bathroom slowly peeling off my clothes and closing the door behind us.

____________

Meanwhile

UNKNOWN P.O.V.

_____________

"It's nearly time birdy. Are you sure you can handle your job?" Alex's voice said through my com.

"If it means saving him, then yes, I'll do as you say you vile woman. To think you'd make me turn against those who care for me is disgusting. I'm only doing this for Archer. Once this task is done, you'll remove that blasted device from my spine, correct?" I said sharply, my tone was a blazing as fire.

"That's correct, I truly must thank my brothers assistant for bringing me such an asset. That chip that surgei designed was flawed and pathetic. However, by studying it and reversing its engineering, I now have you birdy." Alex laughed in my ear.

The barely healed wound along my spine throbs with each peal of her voice. It think I'd be betraying my lady, the one who saved me for her. The one who tried to kill her and nearly killed my mentor.

"Yes, mam, but should you go against our deal or harm your captive in any way, I have no qualms in sending you to your grave even if you are fifty percent of my DNA." I growled fluttering noises shuffling around me.

I couldn't control my mutations very well as my rage was seething.

"Now, now kiddo, that's no way to speak to the one holding the reigns now, is it? The deal is simple, and I'll reiterate it for your dull bird brain. Bring me, Tabitha, and I'll release not only you from my control, but I'll turn your boyfriends brother into your care." Alex said, her tone now dripping with vemon, "however, should you tell anyone or fail, I'll kill your boytoys brother and permanently activate the control device implanted in your spinal column. I will use you to destroy everything you care about. Now I shall expect you at the rendezvous as soon as you capture the target. Do not fail me, Nighthawk."

The line went dead as I sat in the highest tree in the forest surrounding the phoenix corps. I let out an ungodly scream as rage boiled out. My wings, the damn things, furled outward, causing me to lose balance. I quickly dug my rapidly developing talons into the tree trunk, holding me in place.

Damn her! Why did he have to be her sleeper agent? Why wasn't he careful in his last mission? How could he let himself be caught?

"I'm such a fucking failure... Arjuna.....I'm sorry." I mutter under my breath sliding off my glasses.

My yellow eyes were burning from the unrelenting rage filled tears that fell from my stupid face. I knew after this I'd be alone again just like I was during the experiments. Why!?! Why did that awful woman have to be the one whose eggs I came from.

I shook my head and jumped to the forest floor, my face hidden from the light of the moon by the cascade of shade from the trees canopy.

Just like boss, I'm being dragged into Wesker family bullshit. With a heavy sigh, I walked over to my quad parked outside the forest line. Plopping my ass on the seat, I pressed my com.

"Agent Nighthawk reporting in westside forest clear heading back to base." I said my tone cold.

"Understood, captain. Archer is awaiting you in the security office in the lodge." A voice said through the com.

"Roger." I said, disconnecting the com.

I drove back one thought on my mind. Wolf.... he was the one who brought me in. He could be the key to unraveling her plans with the boss, but I have to be careful.

T I'm not going to let you be her play thing like I am.

Hey everyone, Silfarianhawk here. I apologize for the long wait. But I'm back. Mental turmoil aside, things seem on the right track. Hope all have an amazing day. My name is Silfarianhawk, and I'm not so far away.

#albert wesker #resident evil #wesker #wesker x reader #wesker x oc #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker x oc #re wesker #resident evil wesker

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guettaes · 6 years ago

Video

youtube

[GMV] Resident evil Chris and Leon (Chreon) My Demons

finally the video was made by Chris x Leon.I guess I think you have been waiting very much for this. ;) I hope you like it.

Story: The point is that Chris and Leon are going on a mission there, they have been slandered by the mission, and then they have to go on another mission separately. there will be Albert Wesker at the mission site. Leon only needed to find a bag full of viruses. Chris had to look at a building there. Their luck was that they were close. But there was no one Leon found the bag but he found no viruses. Leon informed Chris not to find any viruses and Chris was a little surprised to find nothing. Leon explained that he didn’t understand that he couldn’t find anything, and then they talked a little and then Leon heard Wesker’s little laughter and Leon told Chris that he was here with Wesker. Chris immediately told him to flee from there! Leon had no time to escape and fired with Wesker and Wesker avoided shooting and Wesker quickly defeated Leon and thought that Wesker would take Chris with him and could not take him with him. Chris was quick to go to see how Leon was but he couldn’t find Leon. Chris was very angry. Then, a few days later, Leon’s disappearance had taken Chris to go on a mission and said he was there Wesker Chris quickly took the mission and quickly went there. And Chris found Wesker and asked me where Leon was and what he did to him! Wesker smiled. Wesker told her he’d made a surprise for him. Chris didn’t understand what surprise Wesker had been called by a hooded man to Wesker, and Chris, beside him, showed him with an unknown man and Wesker told him that he was a surprise to him. Wesker took off the hood from the man and Leon was the hooded man Chris let the gun down and Chris was very happy to see Leon and Chris said. I thought you died of Leon … Leon picked up his gun and Chris turned to Chris and didn’t understand why he didn’t recognize it. Wesker told Leon that he didn’t have to worry he could put the gun down. Wesker explained to Chris that he had placed another Plagat in it and now he directed. Chris was very angry and his weapon with Wesker and angrily told him why he did it! Wesker ere told her that her new attempt Wesker went back and told her Leon to cheat on Chris Leon and Bolin went to Chris to bring a knife and quickly went to Chris and Leon fought the last blow Leon became convinced Leon was a strong mutant. Wesker watched them see that Leon was convinced Wesker told him it’s time to go. Leon asked why he knew and why he believed that he had not responded and left. And then Leon went weske. 1 year has passed and much has changed. And the first part is over. If they want another part then a comment.

#resident evil #re #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #chris redfield #chris x leon #chreon #gmv #my gmv #video #video games #my video #my edit #my edits #kennfield

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naberiie · 6 years ago

Text

fit for the 439th

a present (2.8k) for @mandowo, because i love all of the 439th so much and love writing them (and misi!!), especially when they have to deal with a little goblin child named manae elsheva who does what she wants, including trying to sneak onto the mercurial. happy birthday💜

The ship was much larger than she had expected, but that just made the little orange Twi’lek more determined than ever to get on board. It wasn’t fair that their irn'era Amaranth had been able to go so many times, and when she’d asked the troopers who’d come to eat at the Rose Lantern, they’d just laughed and patted the top of her head and said, “Maybe someday, ad’ika.”

Well. Manae Elsheva had decided that ‘someday’ was today.

Behind her, her older brother Dohan shivered at the sight of so many big ships – Jedi cruisers, they’d called them – and all the clone troopers marching smartly around. Manae thought they looked very impressive, but she was ‘specially watching out for the ones with bright purple paint. They were irn'era Ama’s friends, and though Manae couldn’t remember their exact number right now, all she’d needed to remember was the color, and what ship they came off of.

Dohan tugged her hand so that she turned around. He shivered again, his eyes big and scared, as he whispered, “We should go back, Manae. We shouldn’t be here…”

She wrinkled her nose at him and signed, You’re chickening out?

“So what if I am? We’re not supposed to be here, and besides, they’d already promised that they’d let us visit soon!”

Chicken! I’m getting on that ship.

“You’re gonna get in trouble-”

No, I won’t! We know them. She was absolutely confident that they just had to find their friends, and they’d be allowed on the ship, but Dohan was absolutely not convinced.

“We know some of them, Manae.” Her big brother’s eyes darted back and forth across the massive shipyard, the troopers walking across it every which way. Manae wasn’t frightened of it – she was thrilled even just watching the action. She’d never been off planet before, and the troopers who came by the restaurant always had such good stories about the places they’d been – she twisted her nose up, thinking.

No. No, sometimes the stories were sad, but the troopers were always so nice to her. She wanted to see them, and that’s what she was gonna do.

Besides, she had tell Shocker that Henal hadn’t bothered her after she’d punched him right on the nose, like he’d had shown her! Mama hadn’t been too happy when she’d come back home with a triumphant grin and sore knuckles, and maybe a little bit of the bully’s blood on her shirt, but it’d made him stop pulling on her lekku, so ha!

She knew that the 439th were on break now, because irn’era Ama’s friend Jazz had been really happy for the past week, and then been really really happy yesterday, because Null had shown up at the restaurant with some flowers for Jazz (they weren’t real, Manae had snuck over when they’d gotten distracted and investigated the petals. Fabric – but still really pretty).

Anyways. They’d seen her home, and now she wanted to see theirs.

The ship was painted in bright purples stripes, loud and proud and brighter than any of the other ships docked at the yard. She pointed at it excitedly from their position on top of the huge dish-like shipyard – there were other people walking back and forth on the walkway, too, but most of the adults paid no attention to the excitement down below.

She wrinkled her nose again. Grownups.

Manae stood up and started confidently towards the gate, and it took her a good minute to realize Dohan wasn’t following her, like he’d promised he would.

Hey! Come on!

He shook his head, his face dark and angry, and folded his arms, sitting on the bench like a big baby. Manae groaned in frustration, We’ve been planning this for weeks and you’re going to give up now??

He nodded once, firmly, and Manae sniffed in annoyance. Fine! I’ll go by myself!

Some of the purple-painted troopers were walking towards the exit, and Manae stopped, watching them, and all of a sudden her bravery and bravado gone. She thought she would have known some of the troopers, there’d been so many at the Lantern… She fidgeted as they came closer, laughing and smacking each other on the shoulders – one of them had a big huge animal that was the only one who noticed her, and Manae’s bravery turned to full on timidness, because it was big and had lots of teeth and legs… but its eyes were sweet as it watched her watch them.

Plus, if it was with them, it couldn’t be mean. Her shoulders relaxed, and she waved shyly at it.

The animal nudged one of the trooper’s hands, got her attention, and wagged its tail when it looked in Manae’s direction again. The trooper – she stared hard at her armor, but she didn’t recognize it – looked over and saw the little Twi’lek girl watching them curiously from beyond the entrance to their world.

“Hey there, little one! Are you lost?”

Manae shook her head as the trooper came close and knelt in front of her. I’m not lost! I wanted to… and she got shy again, and the trooper smiled at her so nicely that she felt brave enough to go on, I was sitting up there with my brother and I wanted to get a closer look at the ships and stuff, that’s all.

“Ah! You wanted a closer look at the action, huh?”

She nodded, and the trooper grinned and held out a hand. “My name’s Ampersand, what’s yours?”

Manae!

Ampersand regarded her carefully, and then raised one of her eyebrows and gave Manae a crooked smile, “You an Elsheva, by chance?”

She beamed, and Ampersand’s smile grew bigger, too. “Thought so! What’re you doing all the way up here-” and then her eyes focused on walkways behind her, scanning for the rest of her family, and Ampersand’s eyebrows knit together in worry when she couldn’t see Ama, or Mama, or anyone else. “Where’s-”

Manae jumped up and started signing to get Ampersand’s attention so that she wouldn’t get Manae in trouble, I wanted to see your ship! The big one, there, and she pointed over the group’s shoulders, hoping she wouldn’t ask again.

One of the troopers, with long curly dark hair and lots of piercings and tattoos, glanced at the ship, and then back at Manae. They smiled and started to sign, You want a tour?

Any excitement she’d had at the idea of a tour of their home was immediately taken over by the excitement of seeing them sign. She jumped again and signed, Are you Rang? I asked a bunch of troopers who all signed mostly and they said Rang, and Wesk, and Nadi, and some other people, too-

The trooper was laughing, and so was the person next to them. No, no, I’m not Rang. I’m too pleasant to be him. I’m Wesk!

The trooper who was in charge of watching over the animal – who wasn’t leashed, and was just patiently sitting by their feet – said, “I’m Half-Arc, and this is Trooper. I gotta get it to the training facility, so I’ll have to bow out of the tour.” He smiled at Manae as Trooper sniffed near her, and said, “Have fun, okay? Don’t get into too much trouble without me.”

The other troopers nodded and said their goodbyes, and then Manae took Wesk’s hand in one hand, and Ampersand’s in the other, and tugged them back towards their ship as hard as she could.

Ampersand set down her tools and as she was cleaning up, Wesk let Manae examine the freshly inked tattoo on their arm.

Manae was very careful not to touch it, because it looked like it had hurt – but Wesk hadn’t even flinched, not even a little bit, and that had been very impressive. It was much smaller than any of the tattoos they already had, just a little bit of shading on one they’d already had, but Manae had promised not to freak out if they let her sit and watch.

“What’d you think about that, kid?” Amp asked, smiling as she took off her gloves and discarded the used needle. “Pretty cool, right?”

Manae’s hand hovered over Wesk’s arm – she was sitting on their lap now, their arm held out so she could see it better – and she bent a little closer to examine it. The ink was much darker than the rest of the tattoos that she had seen, the skin a little puffy and stretched, but Wesk and Ampersand looked proud of their work.

You stabbed them a bunch of times with a needle! And it didn’t even look like it hurt! She finally signed, absolutely delighted. You were very brave! She told them sincerely, and Wesk gave her a big grin and a two-finger salute.

She laughed and returned it, and then Ampersand did it, and she saluted Ampersand, and they were all laughing when the doors to the medbay slid open and two more people walked in. Wesk and Ampersand nodded to them, still biting down on their laughter, as a Jedi and another trooper – with fancier, bigger amour than the others – walked in.

As soon as she saw who it was, she was sliding off of Wesk’s lap and running full-tilt towards them, skidding to a halt just before the amused angel and the quiet man next to him.

The General – Misi! – recognized her as soon as he saw her, and he laughed in delight, and Manae suddenly remembered Ama telling her that Misi was an angel and when he laughed he glowed, just a little bit, and she beamed at him as he came over and squatted in front of her.

“Hmm. I don’t know about you, Chyth,” he said, talking to the man standing behind him, “but it looks to me like rookies are getting shorter and shorter every day.” He winked at her, and she pressed her hands to her mouth to hold back a laugh.

“I should say so,” the Captain – Chyth – said with a straight face, looking down at her – but when she gave him a shy smile, the corners of Chyth’s mouth twitched up in amusement. “She’ll be good for sneaking missions, I suspect.”

Manae’s chest puffed up in pride at that. That’s right! Dohan and I wanted to see where you all lived but he chickened out and went back home but since I’m much braver than him I went ahead and did it anyways!

This time, the Captain gave her a real smile. Misi laughed as he watched her hands fly and then he patted the top of her head fondly. “Well, welcome to the Mercurial, Manae Elsheva. You’ve been given the grand tour of our ship, huh? What do you think?”

I liked the place with all the littler ships! And Wesk also showed me where they and Ampersand do their tattoos, and how they do it, and I also liked the big rooms where you all sleep! She tapped her chin, thinking a bit more.

He was still grinning, and shifted so that he was sitting cross-legged in front of her, so she sat down, too. Ama had told her Jedi were much less serious than people always said they were, but Manae thought she was just thinking of Misi when she said that. She didn’t really believe they’d had a food fight when Ama had gone on her assignment with them. Wesk and Ampersand leaned against the walls as he asked, “You liked all those bunk beds?”

She nodded fiercely, It’s like a sleepover every night!

“That’s one way to put it,” Ampersand said cheerfully. “Except imagine that it’s just your siblings, and some of them snore really, really loudly.”

Wesk made a face, sniffed and turned their nose up at that.

As Manae laughed, Misi looked her in the eyes and asked the dreaded, inevitable question:

“Manae, do your moms know you’re up here?”

She suddenly remembered that Jedi could read minds, and her face twisted a little bit, and he laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think they do, huh?”

She considered trying to lie again, but then sighed and shook her head.

“Well, we just gotta let them know you’re okay, alright? I bet they’re worried.”

Dohan probably told them where I was, so maybe we don’t have to do that?

He tapped his finger on his chin for a moment before shaking his head, “You know me! I’m all about accountability, and properly reporting, and responsibility and all that. We’ll just give Ama a quick call, okay?”

And Manae, who could definitely feel the looming sentence of grounded for life over her head, drooped a little as she signed Okay, fine. They’re gonna be mad, though… she warned him, but he just smiled again and nodded in thanks. Manae took Wesk and Ampersand’s hands, watching as her adventure started to come to a close.

As Misi pulled out his holo, they started swinging Manae back and forth, their big strong hands gently holding onto hers. As she laughed in delight, she could hear irn'era answer the holo with: “Hey – Misi – I can’t talk right now, Manae’s missing and we don’t know-”

Manae could also hear her moms in the background of the call, and her gut twisted in guilt – they sounded mad, and scared, and she didn’t like it when her moms were scared.

“She’s up here with us, Amaranth,” Misi said simply, and irn'era blinked before the holo was grabbed out of her hand and there was Mama. “Manae is where?”

Wesk snickered behind their hand, and when Manae looked up at Ampersand, the big trooper just grinned and winked at her. Misi straightened and nodded, “She’s on the Mercurial, we have her here-” and before Manae could shake her head, Misi was angling the holo to show her mom exactly where she was.

There was a beat of silence, and then Mama exploded in super-fast Ryl, “Manae! Dan fic geo hiko donah, gan go ktei ootay dan fic elan vil Dohan ohk go bee geo ea, dan toyid go fic asary ar elan bo Amaranth, dan fic ar rinkan nolelu? Do ohk cei penisla, I’m coming up there right now-”

Irn'era took back the holo from Mama, who went on ranting and raving, and Manae shrank back a little. Wesk looked down at her and gave her a gentle reassuring smile – which was impressive, because they had a lot of metal piercings and things on their face – and signed, Hey, she’s just worried about you. She’s glad you’re safe, that’s all.

Manae sighed morosely and signed sadly, I’m gonna be grounded for the rest of my life…

Wesk and Ampersand found that very funny, and Ampersand put her hand on Manae’s head – careful to avoid the lekku, just like Manae had told her – and said, “We’ve all been there, ad’ika.”

Manae threw her hands up as irn'era and Misi continued to talk, I’m gonna be a wrinkly old lady with wrinkly old lekku that drag on the FLOOR by the time I’m not in trouble anymore! She dragged her hands down her face and stamped her feet, just pretending to be mad. And her new friends found that even funnier, even though it was one-hundred-thousand percent true.

Misi hung up with her irn'era and turned around, hands on his hips and grinning broadly down at her before he knelt to her level. “Well, you’re a bit of a troublemaker, huh?”

Manae smiled as big and as innocent as she could, and Misi looked up at the quiet man with darker purple paint than the others and said, delighted, “She’s a natural fit for the 439th, huh?”

The quiet serious man, the Captain, gave her a stern look-over and then a short nod. “I’d say so, General. Fits right in with the rest of these chakaar.”

She didn’t know what word he’d said, but it had made every else laugh, so she laughed too, as big as she could, and that just made them laugh harder, and Manae thought that being grounded for two straight months (with extra dish washing duty) had been very well worth it.

Wesk had been right, though – when her moms finally arrived, with a very sheepish Dohan who wouldn’t look her in the eyes, because he’d told on her and gotten her in extra trouble – Mama dropped to her knees and pulled her tight to her chest, babbling things like “Thank goddess you’re safe, I was so scared-” and “You’re going to be washing dishes until you’re fifty, young lady, why in the stars would you try to sneak into a government facility-” while Manae’s other mom gave Misi and his troopers a whole basket full of snacks as thanks.

Ampersand gave an appreciative whistle as she eyed over the treats, and then she winked at Manae in a way that very clearly said You’re welcome back any time, little one.

And Manae gave her a secret grin and a thumbs up, and made plans to visit them again.

Two months wouldn’t be that long. She’d see them all again, and soon!

Nothing would get in the way of that. Not if she could help it.

#naberiie writes fanfic #campaignverse #misi #oc manae elsheva #oc wesk #oc ampersand #also couldn't resist sneaking in yet another trooper appearance askjdhdkfjgdf i love the strills so much #me: gremlin child! gremlin child! gremlin child! g

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carolyncaves · 6 years ago

Text

Side Quests [800]: Bar Crawl

Gladio + Regis, for anon

[Let’s assume the drinking age in Insomnia is 18.]

‘A simple plainclothes detail’, that’s what Dad said. He just had another obligation that night. Could Gladio cover it?

‘Yeah, of course’ seemed like the only answer.

Now, Gladio stood as rigid as the peak of his hair and as sharp as the line of his undercut, watching His Majesty King Regis full-send a pint of beer while the bartender looked on, shaking his head with clear bemusement.

“Don’t see many gents your age on a bar crawl,” he observed.

“I drank them all under the table years ago,” King Regis replied with a smile. He set the pint glass on the bar with enough paper crowns to cover the drink four times over.

The bartender quirked an appreciative eyebrow. “Good luck to you.”

King Regis touched the brim of his worn baseball cap, a hint of a salute, and then he was making for door. Gladio jumped to follow him.

He’d never been on a solo detail with the King before. He did it all the time for Noct, but somehow this was different. He felt like he was either going to explode with pride or come apart from the stress.

King Regis didn’t have his cane today, and his limp was as understated as his outfit. A shirt, a vest, and the most boring jeans on Eos. They’d started as early as they could – to beat the crowds, King Regis explained, and so he’d have plenty of time at their last stop. Apparently the proprietor there was some kind of friend of his.

Two down, five to go.

“You’re old enough to drink, aren’t you, Gladio?” King Regis asked, edging over on the sidewalk so a flock of young people could go around them.

“Yes, sir.” For three whole weeks, Gladio didn’t add.

“Perhaps I should buy you a round at the next establishment, in congratulations.”

“I’m on duty, sir,” Gladio said gravely.

“I could make it an order, if that would help,” King Regis said, some kind of glimmer in his eye.

Gladio felt a sliver of panic. If the King ordered him to do it, was he supposed to obey? Shouldn’t he still refuse?

“That’s quite a look,” King Regis said, even though Gladio’s been pretty sure he had his face under control. “Don’t worry, Gladiolus. I won’t compromise you with that dilemma.”

The stops went pretty quickly – dive bar, gastropub, rustic-chic. King Regis was proceeding with steady purpose, trying to get where he was going, and he didn’t really seem affected by the drinks. Maybe it was his magic, or maybe at his age he’d built up a decent tolerance.

At the second-to-last stop, the bartender was a woman, maybe the King’s age or older. King Regis claimed a seat at the bar, and Gladio once again took a position at his elbow. Not quite standing at attention the way he wanted – they were trying to keep a low profile, within reason – but ready, so he could keep an eye on the room and react fast if he needed to.

The bartender served the King a cocktail – the bar’s specialty – and gave Gladio a once-over. “Is he your son? If he’s drinking, I’ll need to see some ID.”

“He’s my nephew,” King Regis said, the word rolling off his tongue so easily it caught Gladio off guard. “And he won’t be having anything. He’s here as my designated minder. Tasked to make sure I don’t fall off a curb or wander into traffic.”

“Bah, kids, they think anyone over forty is an invalid. You don’t look old enough to be senile yet.”

The King smiled. “His father’s behind it. He means well, but sometimes I can hardly get him to let me out of his sight.”

“Suppose that’s what family’s for.” The bartender took the King’s credit card. “Anyway, good luck closing out the circuit.” She glanced at the name on the card, then looked hard at King Regis. Gladio tensed. King Regis quirked an eyebrow. “Your Majesty,” she added pointedly, before she went and rang up the tab.

If her hands were a little less steady when she came back with the check, King Regis didn’t say anything – and he wrote a big number in the tip line all the same.

It was three blocks to their last stop, and by that point the Insomnian nightlife was picking up speed. A big group of women came down the sidewalk, chatting and laughing and probably at least halfway down their punch cards themselves, and Gladio had to usher the King into the lee of a trashcan and some newspaper machines to let them pass.

“Sorry, sir,” Gladio muttered.

“It’s quite all right, Gladio. Unless one of them pulls out a particularly sharp nail file, I think we’ll make it in good time.” The King’s face sobered. “Though I suppose you’d take it for me, if you could.”

“Of course, sir,” Gladio said gravely. He was prepared to do it. Had been for as long as he could remember.

King Regis looked up at him. Every hint of mirth was gone from his face. “You’re painfully young for it, Gladio. I hope you won’t take that the wrong way. But I think I would prefer to let Noct grow up with you at his side than see your life spent for an old man’s.”

That was maybe the plainest Gladio had ever heard the King speak. He didn’t know what to say. What to think, even.

“Never mind,” King Regis said, that easy smile back in place. “I’m in my cups, it seems, and saying things I shouldn’t. Why don’t we get where we’re going, and then it will all be moot.”

“Yes, sir,” Gladio said, and he led the way.

The last stop was a bar that was having its grand opening. It sported the same logo that was on the top of the King's punch card, so maybe they were sponsoring the bar crawl to promote. It looked like the kind of place that would have locally-sourced ingredients and fancy custom cocktails. The smell of delicious food blew out the doors as they entered. The King smiled widely at a man behind the bar, maybe the owner, who smiled widely in return. Gladio didn't catch what they said in greeting, though, because the other bartender looked like ...

Not 'looked like'. The other bartender was his dad.

The owner let out a booming laugh. "And this must be him, the younger shield you’ve been telling me about. Six, Clarus, he looks just like you."

"Thirty years removed," King Regis chuckled. "Gladio, this is Wesk Armaugh, one of my former retainers and a very old friend."

"And an absolute bastard," Dad added, completely straight.

"Don't listen to him," Wesk said, as he and King Regis both gestured for Gladio to take a seat at the bar and Gladio – helpless – obeyed. "He just thought I would forget about the offer he made me a few years back."

"A few decades back," Clarus corrected.

"To be fair, it was less an offer and more a derisive remark,” King Regis said. “Something like 'Sure, Weskham, you'll open a restaurant in Insomnia and I'll tend bar.'"

"The joke's on both of you. I said it so he'd make me eat my words. Don't know what's taken him so long."

Gladio hoped he didn't look as dazed as he felt. The King shook Wesk's hand warmly, and his dad was crossing his arms and scowling in a pleased way, and they all looked like ... friends. Close, comfortable friends.

Gladio suddenly felt a strong disorientation. Like he was in two places at once. Or maybe like he'd slipped through time. He wasn't sure in which direction.

Wesk crowed over Gladio a little, clapped him on the shoulder and asked him those routine questions real adults always asked when they seemed to know you a lot better than you knew them. Gladio liked Wesk – his first impression of him, anyway – but with the King and his dad looking on, he felt more on-duty than he had all night. Eventually Wesk and King Regis got drawn into a conversation with each other and Gladio could take a breath.

There was a hard, smooth noise – Dad sliding a beer toward him across the pristinely polished bar. "Good work tonight," he said, before leaving Gladio alone to go to badger his friends.

Gladio felt kind of buzzed even before he took the first sip.

#my fic #fanfic #ffxv #gladio #regis #gladiolus amicitia #regis lucis caelum #i went wayyy over on this one bc i was having too much fun #anon whoever the heck you are #thank you #i'll post this on ao3 later #but the jeopardy fics are rightfully tumblr-debuts #(and if you can find the main post i'm still taking prompts)#(i'll fill them sometime this century)#ffxv jeopardy

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