tedious-gaymers

[tedious-gaymers]

I’m turning into a cartoon wolf and making train whistle noises

[tedious-gaymers]

*feral gay demonic screeching*

messing around with simon's face again...

[tedious-gaymers]

AU where everything is normal except V looks like this...

Yes, that's V's mouth and eyes... (my screenshot, please do not repost/use for ai garbage ❤️)

IF YOU DO NOT RESPECT MY "DNI" I WILL PERSONALLY MESSAGE YOU MYSELF AND (politely) TELL YOU TO RESPECT PEOPLE'S DNI.

[tedious-gaymers]

So I’ve got a request a Franco Barbi x reader where they were his lover from before he was captured but now they’ve ended up in the trials as a reagent (assuming they can even remember each other) maybe some angst/hurt/comfort as a imagine or one shot whatever would be better for you!! ♥️♥️♥️

One request coming up! I got carried away with this, and you've officially turned me into a bit of a Franco fan which I did not expect. That's what listening to dialogue for an hour straight will do to a person, I guess. Regardless, I hope this is what you were looking for!

Presently in the Past (Franco x Reader) [Requested]

🐑 ♡ I lost the footage to make a Franco gif, anyone wanna play to get it back ♡ 🐑

You can't remember anything about your past, but your past remembers you.

Explicit, Graphic Violence, F/M, M/M, Other/M, Tag(s): Trauma, Human Experiments, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Drug Use, Needles, Memory Loss, Angst, Hurt/Some Comfort, Blood, Violence, Death, Explicit Language, Obsessive Behaviour, Possessive Behaviour, Pet Names, Cuddling, Flashbacks, Oneshot, Ambiguous Gender Reader, POV Second Person

Find it on ao3 ♡ WC: 6,432

Disclaimer: Easterman's introduction to the trial, and the first paragraph of the story were written by Red Barrels. I recommend reading Barbi's comic first if you haven't already!

Thank you to an anonymous user for requesting this! This is very much my first time writing Franco - hope he's written well ♡

CIA ASSET AT A BAR SOUTH OF MIAMI CONFIRMED FRANCO BARBI'S INVOLVEMENT IN AGENCY ACTIVITY IN CUBA. FRANCO DEEPLY ENTWINED WITH EXPAT/COUNTER-REVOLUTONARY CUBAN COMMUNITY IN FLORIDA.

STATEMENT FROM LAST KNOWN FROM CUBAN-COUNTER REVOLUTIONARY ASSOCIATE CONFLICTS WITH CIA ASSET. FRANCO IS HINTED AT LEADING DOUBLE LIFE BETWEEN ROMANTIC INTEREST AND CAREER.

ATTEMPTING TO CONFIRM.

“Maybe he didn't expect someone to like him,” Clyde muttered. 

His attention hadn't left the shot of Wolf’s Milk that had been made for him. The mere thought of sickly sweet taste forced his insides to turn. Like the wild goose hunt he was on, he wasn’t about the forget it any time soon. And just when he thought he had some semblance of understanding, it had come out that Franco was attempting to hide his involvement with a potential lover. 

He had done a good job too, despite him running his mouth in supposed privacy.

Finding said lover was useful if they could, yet Clyde was close enough to Franco that he preferred the time and resources went towards his target. 

“You can say that again. Looking like that I'd give up, but that man… He's got tenacity. If you want to call it that, anyway.” The agent put down the freshly cleaned glass with a sigh, and he waved off a patron. 

“I can chase up that lead for our mystery friend if you need, but the shop’s closing soon, so it's best that you're leaving. Good luck finding your guy. Nasty piece of work that one.” 

Atropine. Benzedrine. Chloropromazine. LSD. Nitric acid. Glass. Knives. Needles. Drills. 

So many things had dowsed, punctured, and been absorbed by your skin.

If you could take stock of how much abuse your body had suffered, you would have died many times over. Yet the cocktail of drugs that flowed through your veins mixed with the very same abuse to create a near perfect blank slate. 

You knew who you were. You were one in the same with the person in the mirror. You shared your history with that reflection and no one else. 

Yet sometimes when you looked at yourself, you felt like someone else. It was only ever a brief flicker of emotion - a feeling that you replicated in the decor of your space - but you held onto it when you felt it. 

Hell, you encouraged it when you could. 

Waiting to go into a trial was not one of those times. 

Your focus remained on the reagent who sat in the lobby with you. Whereas you sat on one of open tables, he sat on the floor by the stairwell. His hands flit about his body which rocked back and forth from the repetitive tapping of his feet on the ground. The cries of other unfortunate souls beyond your rooms sent him further beneath the stairwell to the point that he was nothing but a shadowy figure. 

You suspected he was new.

It was a horrible fate for someone new to be stuck with you too. While the others took their sweet time waking up, you had checked every room. There were four of you in total still within your lobby. The other twelve had left to go to their own trials. So you were left to decide whether you asked the newcomer if he wanted to follow you into the depths of Hell. 

Doing trials alone was not the answer. It was rarely the answer in the facility, and the people you saw alone were alone for a reason. They scared you more than some of the freaks they released into the trials.

Your trio was one man short.

Yet you were experienced, and experience meant more pain.

“Hey,” you called out. 

A muffled yelp. 

“Hey, it's okay,” you soothed as you rose from your table. Each movement was slow, and you held up your hands. Before you even reached the stairs, you crouched to make yourself smaller to him, skirting your hand along the floor to steady yourself. 

“Who are you?” the stranger barked at you. His voice was fractured. It never settled on a pitch, nor could one emotion truly determine the tone.

Even in the darkness, enough light reached him to caress the edges of the tears that fell down his face. 

You told him your name then asked for his while you sat beside the stairwell. With your hands crossed over your knees, you hugged them tight and waited for him to respond. He eyed you from his hiding spot perfectly still as opposed to how he had been a few short seconds ago.

“I don’t remember-” he choked. “I don’t remember my name.” 

There was not much you could do except watch him repeat that statement over and over again in floods of tears. When he started to hyperventilate, you guided him with his breathing to the beat of your fellow reagents coming down the stairs. When they saw the scene, they agreed to take him with you. 

Sure, it took a lot of convincing to have him step into the shuttle with you, but he did.

And you gave him a nickname: Franco.

He seemed happy with it, and you were grateful to get the name out of your head. The others knew that was what you called the soft toy you kept on your bed, but you didn’t care. It was one of those silly things you fixated on - one that was better than some of the things other reagents found comfort in. 

Like cattle, you were herded into the chairs without any other thoughts about what you should have been doing. It was a routine. One that you explained to Franco. You warned him about the clamps on the chair. Then you warned him about the TV and the gas. 

How could you tell someone to brace for the torment you were about to endure though?

"You are the surgeon's knife, and where you meet flesh, blood and pain must follow. We are the surgeon's medicine, who regulate pain and death. Poison the supply of those who would ease pain, and we will let you out."

There were no words shared between the group, only the terrified whimpers of Franco beside you. He cried out at the images that manifested in the fog. The suffering was unique to the reagent, and you stared forwards in disgust with bile in your throat. It was impossible to drown out the sheer panic beside you. 

Instead, it became part of your nightmare. 

A woman staggered towards you. Her body was outlined in the needles that clothed her skin. They touched every part of her, bouncing to the irregular rhythm of her steps. She tripped, tumbled, and fell into your lap - your eyes shut in an instant to block out the sensation you knew wasn’t there. You told yourself that the weight that hit you wasn’t real. 

It wasn’t real. 

It wasn’t real.

She wasn’t really there.

Franco’s cries were a white noise that tore through your skull like the nails that dug at your tattered slacks. It was too much. Unable to help your morbid curiosity, you allowed your eyelids to flutter open. 

The pulse that pounded within your chest threatened to cease. Tension gripped at your body, and a man held your legs with a similar zeal. Chipped nails belonging to the pasty skin sunk into you. Bloodshot eyes met yours, yet they didn’t seem to hold any hatred. They watched you with a warmth you hadn’t seen since you entered the facility and a smile to match.

You felt like you were looking in the mirror again. Familiarity swelled within your chest, and frustration compelled you to tears the second your wrists crashed against the metal restraints. 

He was gone in a blink. 

The shuttle stuttered and ground against the rails, coming to stop. You mustered up a brief smile for one of your fellow reagents at the concerned look she shot you. She still asked you if you were okay though while the other checked in with Franco. 

“I'm fine.” 

You were. If you didn't know why you were so upset by your vision then there was no reason why you couldn’t be fine. If anything you were good. Maybe even great. 

Despite the way your guts churned, and a dull ache beat against your head, you were exhilarated. 

You recognised that man. You didn't know who he was, but you recognised him, and he was a part of whoever you were before. 

He was your answer.

The first thing you noticed was the water. Amid the boxes and televisions, you were lost to the sound of water lapping against something. It seemed you weren’t the only one who noticed it too. 

“What is that?” your friend asked. There was no telling if he was talking to himself or not as he passed by you. Franco lingered by your side while your group headed to a nearby set of railings.

“I knew it!” your friend exclaimed. “It’s water. They got water in here.” He proceeded to laugh at the sight before him when he turned to see a pier extending beyond you. 

“Fuck - this is…” you watched as he looked around the walls plastered in the image of a distant city, and you noted the way his expression strained under the weight of his thoughts. “It’s too real.”

Nothing else was said. He continued onwards past the viscera not a few steps ahead of him. You allowed yourself the chance to peak over the railings, and the water seemed hypnotising in the way it calmed to near stillness. Something must have fallen in seconds prior to your arrival for it to have made a sound. 

You decided you weren’t going to stick around to find out what that something was.

Franco twitched when your body collided with his. He’d frozen. Fight or flight’s third sibling had no place in the trials, however, and you felt your heart sink at the sight of his vacant stare. You weren’t sure if he had clocked out for good already when he probably hadn’t seen a dead body up close yet.

A once over of his attire led you to almost regret bringing him along as you leant down to remove your shoes. The action caused Franco to return from the depths of his mind, and he watched you with intense focus. 

“Put these on,” you told him. 

With two shoes placed before him, he did so with ample tenderness. Maybe he'd suffered from splinters already. It was a thought that repulsed you given you now had no protection against that fate. 

“Thanks.” 

You nodded at him and took his hand to guide him along. 

“Ignore what you see. Focus on what we're doing,” you said. 

Enforcing this yourself, you closed yourself off to the world around you. It didn't matter that the wood bit at your soles, nor did it matter that blood that wasn't your own caressed every pinprick sized wound you endured down there. There was no face you made when you felt something compress under your weight and burst with a squelch. 

You continued - plain and simple.

There was little in the way of danger along the pier. Just a couple of stragglers that muttered to themselves. Nobody disturbed them. When you drew near the gate, things changed, and your steel willed determination waned at the sound of nearby pleading. 

“Salvatore Cargo,” you parroted from a sign in a bid to soothe yourself subconsciously. 

The pleading only grew louder as the gate was lifted. One by one, you slipped underneath to find the source of the cries. Two men hung above you like the countless decaying fish strung out to dry long ago. Except they were very much alive and terrified. 

Their fear was your own as you knew the sound likely drew attention, and sure enough a shoulder connected with you. 

So it began. 

Your friend collided with you to prevent an ex-pop from gutting you on long talons. You were forced back into a crate, and you acted on impulse. Around you, your friends scrambled to fend off the attacker. Franco froze once more. 

Taking his hand, you snatched a bottle from a shelf and launched it at the ex-pop to distract them. It gave your friends enough time to run, something that was feral and frenzied when lives were on the line. 

Your heart pumped. Unable to keep up with your pace, Franco staggered behind you. Directions and quick observations sounded out from your friends like gunfire. 

Without them, you would have missed the safe zone. 

You threw Franco into a slot and pushed your way into another. As the click resounded, you nearly fell out the other side. Franco knelt on all fours beside you, and you wrapped your hands around him to pull him up. There wasn't anything going through your head as you dragged him to his feet towards the nearest desk.

All you wanted was for him to be okay. You pulled him down into the cramped space beneath the desk on instinct. He was hyperventilating again. The sounds of movement around you let you know that the others were on their way upstairs. 

Meanwhile, you held Franco close to your side. 

Each shudder of his body shook your own. ‘Calm’ wasn’t exactly the state you could describe him falling into, but he fell silent soon enough. It was just in time for you to catch the latest disturbances upstairs. 

A voice different to your friends sounded over the now frantic cries of the hung men. The first gunshot made Franco smack his head against the table in fright. The second was cause for concern as you realised that you had in fact heard a gun. 

The screams were silenced, and the voice was too muffled for you to make out what was being said. 

It belonged to a man. That much you knew.

You peered over the table to survey the scene. The safe zone was still in tact. The lockers beside you didn’t seem disturbed, and the partition was still up. A third and fourth gunshot rung out, however. 

Whatever was happening wasn’t finished. 

The shill scrape of metal on metal filled you with dread - the partition nothing but a memory in the span of a second. You were being told to continue.

“Come on, hey. We’re going to make it through, but we need to move,” you told yourself as you grabbed Franco’s arm and pulled him from his hiding spot. Your friends all but fell down the stairs in their panic to tell you what you already knew: whoever was stuck in the trial with you had a gun.

It was a point of debate as you manourved through the environment towards the next stage of the trial. Even as you hauled pounds of drugs from a cart between one another - the gun outweighed any opinions or thoughts on your given task. How did you combat a gun? Could you take it from the unknown assailant? Were the ammo stashes anywhere?

Nothing useful came of your frantic whispers to one another, and while you took time to search for resources, you decided to help Franco out. It changed the subject at least to something more productive. 

“Battery packs go in like this,” you explained, showing him how to work his ESOP. “As for this, if you ever step on a mine and there’s gas - or you’re gassed because it can happen, one puff. That’s all you need. It’ll take it all away.” 

You snatched a brick for safekeeping, but no explanation was needed for Franco. He understood its use the second it was in your hand. It seemed he learnt quick too, repeating back what you’d said to him on the way back to your rendezvous by the drug cart. 

“I’ve got this,” your friend said. He took out a thin tube you recognised all too well and placed the needle to the edge of his arm. It sunk beneath the surface. You were ready to move again.

Things were going smooth for such an advanced trial. 

That’s what you thought as the cart was heaved along at a brisk jog. You eyed the surrounding area from the boat to the fish market, and you agreed with your friend. It was getting very real. 

Too real, in fact. 

The stench of rotting fish and past reagents left you nauseous. 

“Right this way, please.” The mannequin pointed you in the direction of a weird tool, and the group immediately fell into disarray. 

“No - geez, another fucking thing we can’t deal with right now,” one of your friends hissed. The other picked up the unfamiliar device. She pressed the switch on the side, yet nothing happened.

“Symbol decoder, it says - look,” Franco managed, “aim it at the uh, at uh-” he trailed off as he waved his hand in the direction of yellow paint nearby. The first attempt didn’t work, but as you crammed around the corner, everything became clear. You had to line up the image. 

The device whirred as the roulette of potential combinations locked in far too slow for the sense of urgency you all felt. 

Eight, seven, four.

You were left with Franco as the other two rushed over to the vault and input the code. Nothing could have prepared you for what happened next though. 

“It’s mine. It’s God damn mine, and I’ll skin, salt, and fuck any ruptured scumbag who tries to take it!”

You weren't in the trial. For a second too long, you were somewhere else. In your head, on a dock, you didn't fucking know. All you knew was that the voice stirred something within you. Somewhere - you'd heard it somewhere before. Where? You couldn't remember. Maybe you hadn't even recognised it, but the strength of the familiarity was enough to shake you. 

Somewhere. Someone. 

In the blank space of your head that you could feel, you knew he was there. It made you want to claw at your scalp and peel back the flesh. If you shattered your skull then everything would spill out. Or would you end up dying in a disappointing pool of black tar instead?

What if you forgot everything? 

“-you alright?” Franco asked, and your attention snapped towards him. 

What did you do to deserve to be taken away from everything you knew? 

You didn't say anything, nodding instead. A hand wrapped around yours, and he gave you the best smile anyone could muster in your circumstances. Fake and pained. 

“Let's go,” he said. You nodded again. 

Your friends caught up, and you were given an extra decoder. The space before you led to multiple darkened passageways. 

Cattle cars displayed the symbols you needed to find like some sort of messed up children's game, and you were left with Franco. It was decided as a team. You went left. They went right. With a mental note made of the symbol you needed, you beckoned to Franco to follow. 

So began your search.

All the while, you searched your mind for memories attached to that voice.

Franco gasped from the pain his night vision goggles caused him when he pulled them over his eyes. Thankfully, it was a pain you had forgotten, but you could sympathise with him. The section beside the train was incredibly narrow with no visibility. He had no choice but to wear them if he wanted to see.

You navigated around a corner with no luck finding a star. Then you navigated around another corner to find nothing useful either. But then a light from another cattle car caught your eye. Yellow paint lit up like fireworks the second you lifted your goggles.

The star was there. Part of it anyway. Both of you moved towards the part of the puzzle you had found, and you glanced around for its missing half. It had to be in front of you if needed to line them up, but where?

The answer was on a barrel. 

“Got it-” you breathed, holding up the decoder. It sprang to life, and you jolted when Franco bumped into you. 

You were going to ask if he was okay when he told you he had heard something. Against the buzz of the device, you had failed to listen for anything else. How could you when your attention was divided between some stupid star and fragments of your past? But when you focused you could hear it too. 

Breathing. It was heavy. Strained. It had to be him. Unless it was another ex-pop there was nobody else it could be.

He wasn’t getting any quieter either, and you looked back at the decoder to see it had stopped on one number. You waved it in front of you, desperate for it to work. You were so close to being able to leave - you could get it before whoever it was making their way towards you reached you.

They could turn and leave. It was a gamble that you were willing to take. 

If you stayed you could see him.

“Go hide-” you snapped, and Franco hesitated. “Go.” 

“Who is that?” That voice. You froze when Franco finally moved, and he brought you with him onto the car much to your dismay.

“My dad send you? Think I'm fuckin' scared of you?” Franco guided you to a barrel and instructed you to get inside. 

You did, albeit you were slow. The voice lulled you into a trance, and you wanted to know who it was. His face was all you needed. Just one peek. That was it. Fingertips rounding the edge of the barrel, you peered over the top to see Franco cross the train towards a barrel on the other side. 

He ran right past the opening and fell in unison with a bang. 

The sound of the gunshot continued to ring in your ears, and you stared in horror at Franco. He was alive -  a strained groan spilled from his lips as he rolled over to grip his leg. The bottoms he wore were red already, but the blood began to seep from between his fingers. 

“Found you, fuckin’ rat-” the voice cooed. “Try fuckin’ runnin’ now, cocksucker.” 

The stranger came into view. As he stepped into the light you could see everything. It was him. 

He was the man in your vision.

Your answer.

And still nothing made sense. Even as you took him in, you couldn't place him in your memory. But you could see the situation was dire. 

“Gonna cry? What a fuckin’ coward,” the man said, and you shot up from the barrel. With a blind rig, you weren't much use, but the brick in your pocket was. 

“Franco - move!” you cried out. Both men looked at you, and you launched the brick at the stranger. 

It was a perfect shot. 

“Shit - my fuckin’ head!” 

You leapt from the barrel and almost careened over with it as Franco threw himself to his feet. He cried as he did - falling down when he tried to make the jump from the car. 

When you landed beside him, you didn't get very far. A hand snatched at your neck, and your body was pulled back against the car floor behind you. 

“Must be one of those roaches - the fuck do you think you are usin’ my name like that? You-”

He was Franco.

You let out a whimper at the sensation of your spine being pulled against the car's floor and upwards. As if it couldn't get any worse, a gun pressed to one side of your head, and a face the other. The proximity forced you into stillness at the feel of the real Franco’s breath against your ear. 

“Ain't no fuckin’ way,” he huffed beside you, and you looked at the Franco on the floor who was trying to crawl beneath the car.  

“One of a God damn kind,” your assailant said. 

The aggressiveness he held in his voice shifted into something more joyous. He carried an excitable air around him as he let go of your neck, and he jumped from the train. The mood was shattered when he landed on an injured leg, and the shriek that erupted from beneath the train must have been heard trial wide. 

“Shut your whore mouth!” 

What were you meant to do? 

As two shots fired off into the Franco beneath the train, you were faced with the Franco who had inspired the nickname. And he had killed a man. There was nothing else you could have done but run. You were a credit to your own survival as you did, but you mourned two losses. 

One of which tailed after you.

“Where do you think you’re goin’? Are we playin’ games? Kiss and chase?” 

You sped towards the drug cart at breakneck speed. It seemed Franco had a hard time keeping up with you as his breathing became more laboured. He shouted after you and began to talk to himself when he lost sight of you.

There wasn’t any time for you to explain as you crashed into your friends. 

“Did you get the drugs?” one of them asked, and everything came crashing down around you. They asked about Franco. You felt yourself slipping as the thoughts struggled to form on your tongue.

“Gone, no - he’s gone. Franco got him.”

“What do you mean Franco got Franco?” You didn’t have a response to the question as you fumbled for anything. Each word that unceremoniously left your mouth felt like chewing on dirt. Franco killed Franco. Franco was the name of the ex-pop they had seen. 

The silence that fell after you finished spoke volumes. 

You could see it in their body language. The way that they didn’t move, yet their eyes danced across you. Muscles tightened like coils ready to spring. They didn’t say anything, but you felt their judgement. 

While you tried to convince yourself it was just guilt, you knew why they would take suspicion with you.

You understood why. 

“C’mon out, orsacchiotto, I wanna make sure it’s really you,” Franco called out. His tone was playful despite the weasely undertone of something else that dripped through. Whatever it was was primal. “You got more friends you want to introduce me too? I’ve somethin’ for ‘em too.” 

A metallic bang erupted from one of the trains as if something hit a wall, and you flinched. 

“I know where the code thing is, I got one of the numbers before Franco appeared - I can lead you to-” you were cut off by a hand against your mouth. Your friend had lunged forwards and covered it with his head turned. He let it slide down, and ran a hand over his own face, refusing to step back.

Then he gestured behind you. “Go on, lead the way.” 

You did - going back in the way you came. At the same time, it seemed Franco hadn’t given up his search, and his words damned you beyond the judgement you had already suffered. 

“D’ya remember those cold, cold nights when I used to keep you warm?” You weren’t sure if you wanted to remember.

“I’d give anythin’ if you’d come cuddle up to me. Baby’s lonely.” Whatever you were to him was more than a friend.

“I know what you want - zuccherino for my zuccherino - too bad it’s locked away. I thought your mommy taught you good manners… All you gotta say is please…” Yet there was a bite of hostility in his voice. 

“Don’tcha miss me?” 

You did. Deep down inside, despite the way your body screamed at you in all the confusion and pain, you missed him. 

You wanted to stop running.

With a shaky hand, you held the decoder up to the star symbol. 

Nine, three, zero.

You stared at the void between the floor and the cattle car knowing there was a fresh corpse there. Your friend went to the vault to open it up, and you waited beside the edge of the car. 

But it wasn’t silent.

Your name spilled from nearby. Close. It was close, yet you couldn’t see anything. The sound of shuffling and debris being pushed out the way forced you back into the cool steel of the cattle car. From the safety of your light, darkness opened up before you. So you let the goggles slide over your eyes. 

There, opposite you, was Franco. You were witness to him as he crawled through an opening in the wall on all fours. He was swift to his feet and quicker to train both barrels of his shotgun on you. A broad smile decorated his sunny expression, and laughter bubbled from his throat at your reaction to him.

“Bang!” he exclaimed. “Caught you.” 

There was movement inside of the car.

“And another fuckin’ rat,” he muttered. “Am I not enough? You gotta bring these dumb fuckin’ fucks into my work? My house?” 

Your heart was in your throat, and the lack of sound from the train alerted you to the fact that your friend had stopped moving. He was playing it safe. He wasn’t going to leave you was he? He was going to leave you with Franco. 

Regardless of if your friendship still existed or not, you were going to try at the very least to let him do that.

You were fine. 

“Wait,” you blurted out. “I don’t remember Franco, I don’t remember anything at all.” He stopped dead in his tracks. You glanced at the way his finger toyed with the trigger on his shotgun, and then you met his eyes.

“I don’t remember anything at all,” you repeated as everything began to unwind into sadness. “They put this fucking thing on my head, and they force me to do things I don’t want to do.” 

You gripped at your night vision goggles, the bolts embedded in your skull. Franco’s head lolled to the side with narrowed eyes, and you had his full attention.

“Who?” he asked.

“Who what?” 

“Who the fuck is making you do anythin’? Is it those scumbags that are runnin’ around?” You shook your head. “Nobody fuckin’ tells you what to do. You’re not some fuckin’ whore…” 

Franco’s expression contorted as his fist tightened in on itself. He shook his head and strode over to the car. You watched as he slammd the butt of his shotgun against the train, cursing each time. Each sound sent shockwaves through your poor nervous system, and you felt feint from the amount of adrenaline that coursed through your body.

“Fuck!” Franco repeated. “Why the fuck is nothin’ makin’ sense today? Shit’s so confusin’. Give me strength, somebody.” The gun was pointed at you in a casual gesture far too dangerous for your liking.

“Baby’s got to put on his big boy pants. I’ll be comin’ back for you, oh, don’t you think I’ll forget, but first…” 

You couldn’t stop him from leaving. He hopped onto the train, and when he left it, it wasn’t long before you heard the gun go off.

Lupara. 

That was what he called it. You remembered.

Unable to control your tears, you let them stream down your face like you fell to the floor. When there was a scream from near the drug cart, you cried out louder in unison. Knees brought up to your chest, you buried yourself into your own makeshift darkness. 

Nothing could reassure you as your head pounded from the memories that tried to break through into your conscious mind. 

It hurt. All your friends were dead. 

And the man who murdered them came back to you with a spring in his step.

Apparently, one summer before Franco had to leave for Cuba, in the light of the rising sun you’d both gone to the docks together. Nobody else was really up at the time, and only the waves disturbed you both. Nothing had been planned, it was more of a spur of the moment thing, but you enjoyed it none the less according to him. 

He explained to you in great detail how you’d made plans together to get ice cream and spend the whole day lounging there. Nobody was going to move either of you unless you decided to go yourselves. It was something you wanted to do, and he was happy to oblige since you were willing to give him everything he wanted in return. 

You would hold his hand and drag him around to show him all the things you loved, and he would tell you that he loved you. 

Love was a word that felt like choking up sawdust when he said it. Love never worked out for him. It wasn’t his thing, but he said it anyway. He recounted how you were so innocent to him. 

He never told you how he pictured the shoreline coated in red. Intrusive thoughts flashed the image of you lying before him all mangled and pretty with your face stained in blood. You never needed to know because he couldn’t do it.

No, you were different. 

There was nothing but joy on your face as he’d followed you along that beach. It was hard for him to explain, but ever since you had settled into something together, he’d chased after that feeling of being wanted like he chased you along the sand. 

You humiliated him in your own way by making him think he truly belonged.

And you’d done it again.

Still in the same spot that you had fallen to beside the car, Franco sat with you. He waved his feet back and forth, swaying his body side to side while he looked at you. You hadn’t come out of your self imposed cocoon yet, but you had a single eye on him too.

Things had been ironed out to some degree. 

Obviously he’d asked you what you remembered before he told you a few bits about your past, and while you couldn’t be certain what was true or not, you wanted to believe him. At the point you were at, you prayed that it was true. Something about him soothed the ache in your head.

He was undeniably charismatic, and you weren’t going to deny the fact that you felt drawn to him. 

Then the important question of what you were doing in his territory with the others came up again. There was little he could have done to hide the irritation in his voice as he spoke about you being around them. He wanted to know why you were helping them. If you were anybody else he would have killed you, yet you had a chance to explain.

Franco understood to some extent, despite being frustrated.

He told you that he felt great - better than he’d ever been - but things were off. Seeing you made everything that much sweeter, yet that didn’t change the fact that he too was having issues with his memory.

Déjà vu he called it. It felt like the same shit everyday with different faces.

When you’d told him you were kept by faceless men in laboratory coats and given orders, he mentioned he’d seen some people like that behind glass. It was clear the worlds you were living in were very different. To him, the docks were real. To you, it was an experiment.

Things had gone quiet after that while you pieced together the shards of your past until a hand found your arm. Fingers walked up it and poked at your cheekbone. Franco shifted himself into a kneeling position with his body turned to you, and you lifted your head at the way he searched your soul with his gaze. Without even speaking, he was searching for something in you.

“Not gonna leave, are you?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to leave, but I’ve never tried to stay in a trial before without doing what I’m told. What if they come to get me?” 

“Then they’re fuckin’ dead. Think they got a chance against my Lupara?” Each word was spat with pride like he could see them cold already. “Hey-”

Your pulse quickened as Franco pulled your arm from your leg. He supported it in between his hands, and he brought your knuckles to his mouth.

“You’d never leave me,” he hummed against your skin. “No - no, I knew you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t abandon your baby.” 

The contact left you flustered as your mind raced over the implications that you were very much his old partner. You didn’t even know if you’d ever separated. Most likely not, if he was going to treat you the way he was. It was strange to feel his kiss against your hand. Not unwelcome, but it was strange.

As he told you that he wanted to feel your arms around him, you crossed your legs and opened yourself up to him. Surreal was an understatement to have him crawl onto your lap without the need to be prompted, and you were delicate in the way you pulled him towards you. 

When his head rested on your shoulder, you decided to stop trying to process everything. 

“Back where I belong…” you heard Franco sigh. 

The weight of his body kept you grounded in the moment. An overwhelming sense of comfort washed over you at the contact - something you had sorely missed - and you let it happen. There was so much you wanted to ask Franco, but for the time being, you savoured the affection he showed you.

He made everything feel better.

“Well shit,” Clyde sighed as he placed down Easterman’s report. He bet Avellanos was going to have a field day with the information they had been given. It was a small world, but even he hadn’t been able to track down Fraco’s supposed partner in the height of his investigation. 

Turns out all they had to do was pick up people from the streets, pluck them from their homes, and they’d get lucky.

THE PREMATURE END OF THE TRAIL WHICH RESULTED IN THE DEATH OF THREE REAGENTS WAS BOTH DUE TO FRANCO’S OWN AGGRESSION AND THE NATURAL FLOW OF THE TRIAL. YET THERE WAS A CATALYST. 

WE FOUND HIS OLD FLAME. THE FOURTH REAGENT BEING FRANCO’S ROMANTIC PARTNER CAME AS QUITE A SURPRISE, AND I THOUGHT YOU’D BE INTERESTED IN SEEING OUR FRIEND IN THE FLESH. I HAVE RECONSIDERED THEIR POSITION AS REAGENT MOVING FORWARDS, BUT WOULD LIKE TO INVITE YOU TO DISCUSS THESE OPTIONS FACE TO FACE. 

UNTIL THEN, FRANCO AND THE REAGENT HAVE BEEN SEPARATED.

[tedious-gaymers]

Fuck The Bad Thoughts Out (Leon Kennedy/FTM!Reader Smut)

DO NOT USE MY FIC FOR AI TRAINING!

MINORS AND AGELESS BIOS/FEM READERS GO AWAY! THIS IS NOT FOR YOU! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!!!

IF YOU DO NOT RESPECT MY "DNI" I WILL PERSONALLY MESSAGE YOU MYSELF AND (politely) TELL YOU TO RESPECT PEOPLE'S DNI.

Content Warning: daddy kink/br33ding, unprotected sex (PSA: Testosterone is not good as birth control! Please use a condom during penetrative sex!)

Terms/pronouns used for reader: He/him + good boy + hole

"Darling? Can you come here for a sec?" Leon says, walking into your bedroom. You stretch before you get up.

"Everything ok..?" You ask, following him out.

"I just.. wanted to talk to you about something. I'm worried."

Leon's eyes held some sort of.. Sadness in them. You were confused, and worried. Leon's arms wrap around your waist as he brings you closer. He brings his hand to your chin, lifting it so you could meet with his gorgeous, icey blue eyes. His grip on your chin is a little tight, but comforting nonetheless.

"I don't like how you've been talking about yourself, babe." His tone is teasing, yet firm. "I'm sorry Leon.. I just.. I can't.." You sigh. Tears welling in your eyes. Leon sighs, hugging you tightly to his chest. "I know. Maybe I can't stop them from running around in that beautiful head of yours. But I can distract them..?" He says as he looks down at you. You look up in return, seeing the suggestive smile. "You mean..?" You feel your heart flutter at the idea. Just seeing the look in his eyes.. Gods.. It made you excited. Leon chuckles, leaning forward towards your ear.

"I'll fuck those thoughts so hard right out of you, until they're leaking out with my cum." He purrs in your ear. Your face flushed red as you feel his hot breath hitting your skin. You feel your face burning as he pulls you towards his bedroom.

You're pinned down to the bed in a flash, feeling Leon's hard cock pressing against you through his and yours clothing. You whine, his palm pressing against your crotch. You feel his hand pressing hard against you. You grind against his hand, hips lifting up to feel any sort of relief.

"Damn, someone's getting needy." Leon chuckles. He presses his lips against you, grinding his hips into yours. You moan into his lips, digging your nails into his back.

"My sweet baby boy, so good for me.." He says as he's pulling away. His face flushed, catching his breath. He gets off the bed, taking off his belt, and pulling off his jeans. He motions for you to come forward, as he pulls his hardened cock from his boxers. "You remember the safe word, darling?" He mumbles, hand caressing your cheek, while the other slowly strokes his cock.

You nod, practically drooling at the sight.

Leon chuckles. "Well? Say it. Or you won't get what you deserve sweet boy."

"Red." You gulp. He smirks, hand running through your hair.

"Good boy." He says. "Now. Back on the bed. Now." He orders. You obey, moving to get comfortable. He pulls off your bottoms, and chuckles, seeing how excited he had gotten you. He pulls your boxers off. You squirm a bit, feeling impatient as Leon rubs the lube onto himself. He kisses you again, this time it's needy, possessive. You moan out as he presses a lubed finger into you, thrusting it in and out slowly. You whimper, gripping his back as he preps you. He presses another finger into you. His fingers are callused. But that's what made it feel so much better. It was intimate. After a few minutes of this, he speaks up.

"Think you're ready for me, darling?" He questions. You nod.<

You moan loudly as he pushes into you, slowly. You're trembling as he does. "F-fuck baby boy.. So d-damn tight for me~" His voice wavers. Once he bottoms out, you squirm against him, his bare, hot cock filling you up so nicely.

"P-please-.." You beg.

"You want me to move? Hmm? Fuck those thoughts out you?" You nod. Leon smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips as he begins to fuck into you. You moan, arching your back as he picks up the pace, knowing full well you would tell him to slow down if you needed him to. Leon pants, wrapping his arms around your waist as he claims you. "S-shit darling.. You feel so damn good around my cock~" You feel like you're in heaven. "F-fuck.. Daddy.." That sparked a fire as Leon fucks you. He pulls out, flipping you around and fucks back into your hole. "You like Daddy fucking you like this, darling?" His hot breath hitting the back of your neck. "Y-yeah~" You respond. "I'm going to breed you.. Fill you up with so much cum.." His voice was shaky as he picks up his pace, clinging onto your hips.

You feel hot as his cock hits a certain spot, letting out a loud, soft moan, arching your back into him, making you cum, your whole body shaking. Leon picks up the pace, breathing heavily. Leon growls, it was primal. It was obvious he was holding himself back. He picked up the pace, nails digging into your hips. "I'm so close darling. So fucking close. You're such a good boy. Taking my cock so fucking well." He says. You feel your eyes water from the pleasure, your legs trembling as he slams his thick, bare cock into your hole.

His cock twitches.

You moan as a hot, thick substance fills your hole right up. His eyes flutter, slamming in one last time, making sure to breed you properly. As he pulls out, you could feel his and your cum dripping from your hole a little. The feeling was so, so good.

Leon chuckles, plopping next to you, cuddling you tightly to his chest. "You alright? Was i too rough? Hmm?" He mumbles. You shook your head, completely melting into his warm skin. He sighs, rubbing your back. "We'll get cleaned up in about 10 minutes. And then we can cuddle more~" He coos. You smile.

You swore after that, your anxiety pretty much dissipated.

[tedious-gaymers]

I managed to finish that El Rubio one-shot/flash fanfic that I promised. I'll also post it on AO3 later, but for now, it's only going to be found here. 👀

I marked this post as mature just in case. I've seen smut posts that aren't marked, but it doesn't hurt to be safe.

Anyway, enjoy reading a short fanfic of El Rubio getting off with a sex toy. It's also a "porn without plot" kinda fanfic, so the action happens right away lmao. 😏

(GIF below by me)

The blond man knelt down in his panic room and grasped his nine-inch dildo — which was lubricated and sticking to the floor — with one of his hands. Carefully lowering himself onto it, he inserted almost the entire length, the bottom part remaining outside.

He could feel his hole instantly begin to pulsate around it. It left him desperately wanting to get on with the action, and surely enough, it was not long until he did so. He let out a groan as he started to stroke himself and ride the toy, taking it slow and easy with both movements.

His erect dick also throbbed, and a small amount of pre-cum happened to leak from the tip. The sensations within him felt too incredible, especially since he experienced a strong wave of ecstasy from cocaine.

Although he did not use the toy for a very long time, he eagerly wanted more.

Riding it and touching himself slowly seemed too boring to him.

Juan gradually increased his pace doing both. He felt as if the toy was immediately stretching him out, despite not using it for a while. He moved smoothly against it, and it only made his lower body tremble. Though he was shaking a lot, he tried his hardest to stay propped up with his knees and legs. 

The pleasure coursing through him made him feel as if he would lose balance and collapse, but he used what he could of his strength to remain kneeling on the floor.

"Ay... d-dios mío," he moaned.

He still felt his hole and cock throbbing and his legs trembling, and he found himself hyperventilating as well. The cocaine he had taken earlier made his private moment seem mesmerizing yet highly intense. He was also much calmer and less anxious, forgetting that he was chasing down and trying to kill the psychopathic person robbing him, as he was only focused on his alone time.

He had the option to go to his favorite guard, whom he had a sexual relationship with, but he solely wanted to be somewhere isolated. Even then, he sometimes preferred using his dildo instead of fucking another man, as it allowed him to do whatever he wanted when getting off.

Using it to unwind, too, and after a robbery was notably a good idea.

He needed it after all.

At that moment, he began to think about the guard, Manuel. Juan recalled the different times when they'd fuck in the sauna, with the drug lord also offering a higher salary in exchange for their sexual activities. On rare occasions, he would take the bottom role while having complete control and dominance over his guard. He was even a vocal and moaning mess just like Manuel, and both especially enjoyed being manhandled and abused.

He was the perfect fucktoy for Juan.

The cartel boss then proceeded to ponder the times he'd bottom — sweat forming on his forehead, groaning and cursing in his thick accent, and being slapped or having his hair pulled, all while getting roughly fucked by his younger employee.

He moaned at the thought, suddenly feeling an extreme, overwhelming sense of pleasure running through him. He did not know if he was on the verge of orgasm after only several minutes of masturbating, but he wished that his climax was delayed; he simply craved more of his toy and never wanted to finish just yet.

"F-Fuck. I-I better not... fucking cum... yet. I don't... want t-to... fucking... st-sto- ah, sh-shit!"

He happened to speak too soon, as his body unexpectedly convulsed more violently than before, causing him to pause his movements with the toy. He leaned forward and propped himself up, his other hand lying flatly against the floor. Breathing quickly, he quivered and shook as a few slow drops of cum left his dick.

Juan lowered his head, still jerking off, as he watched himself finish. He could only let out another moan as the thick, white substance slowly trickled down and spurted from the tip.

He was unable to control his body shaking, too, but he didn't want to ignore or stop it. Besides, it wasn't unusual or out of the ordinary that he was dealing with a strong orgasm. Such a feeling never occurred when he would top or use toys for his cock, but despite having powerful and pleasurable climaxes when receiving penetration, he preferred giving it.

Bottoming or anal play were special occasions for him.

Even when the last drop of cum finally left him, he continued to shake. Lifting his head, he stared at a nearby wall, still gasping rapidly as he waited for the effects of his climax to subside.

Eventually, an idea came to him, making him quietly chuckle. 

"Fuck it. This is too much fun. Another round won't hurt."

[tedious-gaymers]

help me manifest blue pennsylvania

like to charge reblog to cast

[tedious-gaymers]

Y'all, I made a 18+ (only) gen gaming discord server of anyone's interested! (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Remember, it's 18+ only! No minors! And you're required to add your age! ❤️

[tedious-gaymers]

I am heavily kink shaming Coyle 24/7.

[tedious-gaymers]

A "Betrayal" Between Lovers (M!V X Male Reader)

IF YOU DO NOT RESPECT MY "DNI" I WILL PERSONALLY MESSAGE YOU MYSELF AND (politely) TELL YOU TO RESPECT PEOPLE'S DNI.

Cw: mention of fake death/guns/Cussing

"(Y/n).. I can't believe you'd do this to me... After all we've been through.." V seemed to be heart broken, staring at you. The whole fight you had helped him through. And now you pointed the gun at him. You rolled your eyes.

"V... It's just a game.." You spoke. V growled. "You're pointing your damn gun at me you motherfucker!" V yelled.

"Wow V.. Always so damn dramatic.." You said, before firing into V's head. "Hey!! Not fair!!" V called out as the foam bullet hit him in the forehead.

"Jackie was right. You're dramatic as hell." V glared at you, getting his toy gun ready. "Oh you're so dead."

[tedious-gaymers]

Andrew Tate would make a good BioShock villain

Minors/ageless bios DNI

[tedious-gaymers]

Having to ask as a anon because it wont let me ask on my writing account but - my brother gave me the idea to edit stickers onto Vaas and it gave me the idea of Vaas letting his s/o put stickers on his face just for fun. :33

Stickers (Vaas/Male Reader)

Tw: Its vaas. he spicy boi/reference to canon typical violence <3

@lostamongthestarz enjoyyyy (my new frien, pls go follow him, he's hella cool!!)

DO NOT USE MY WRITING FOR AI TRAINING

You find some stickers and decide they would look best on your spicy pirate's face <3

"(Y/n), what the fuck are you doing?" Vaas asked, opening his eyes upon feeling a tickling sensation on his face. You giggled.

"Nooothiiiing~" you said, placing a Hello Kitty sticker on his temple. "You'd better not be putting stickers on my face, Chico." Vaas chuckled. You pressed a kiss to his nose. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Vaas." Vaas yawned, turning to his side, taking you into his arms. After a moment, he froze.

"Amor. How many stickers did you put on me?" He questioned. You smirked, looking at the stickers on his shoulders. "I have no ideas what you're talking about." "(Y/n), how many stickers did you put on me?" Vaas asked in a faux serious tone. You only stared in response. Vaas sighed, getting up and looking into the mirror. You giggled and got up, pretending to escape.

"Tu pequeña mierda! Get over here!" Vaas laughed, gathering you into his arms. You squealed, squirming and laughing as he did. He shook his head in mock disappointed. He sighed as a couple stickers fell of his face. "You love me, you can't be mad at me~" You kissed his forehead, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Unfortunately, yes, I do, mi Carino." Vaas chuckled.

Hope you liked it!! This was fun to write hehe

[tedious-gaymers]

Masterlist

❤️= Fluff

🔞= Smut

💔= Angst + good ending

💔🥲 = Angst + bad ending

⚠️❤️ = Self-Ship fic

~Will update as I post~

Hitman:

Lucas Grey:

https://www.tumblr.com/tedious-gaymers/745272137332424704/minecraft-lucas-grey-x-male-reader?source=share ❤️ cw: alcohol consumption/drunk leon

Resident Evil:

Leon Kennedy/Ada Wong/M!Reader https://www.tumblr.com/tedious-gaymers/745252036664295424/what-do-we-do-with-a-drunken-idiot?source=share ❤️

[tedious-gaymers]

𝙃𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙤, 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜 <3

TW: mentions of r*pe, spicy adult fun time, a*bse, etc. (things I won't write to romanticize, not a fan of any of these)

IF YOU DO NOT RESPECT MY "DNI" I WILL PERSONALLY MESSAGE YOU MYSELF AND (politely) TELL YOU TO RESPECT PEOPLE'S DNI.

𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰, 𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝. 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞.

About Me:

My name is Charlemagne (Sharky) Boshaw, I'm a trans gay man with adhd, and possibly autisim and obsessed with video games and writing <3 I am pro self-ship hehe (not pro ship, I'm not gross lol)

I will not Romanize r*pe/abusive behavior

MINORS/AGLESS/FEM ALLIGNED HUMANS DNI!!! seriously, I am sick and tired of blocking people. You are NOT mature enough. I promise you. Leave me alone.

I will not write anything harry potter/pro r0lwing lol

no incest, pedophilia, etc. (pro shippers fuck off)

I only write male/gn readers! No sexualizing my work pls lmao

Smut is allowed!! Just respect boundaries please!

no bestiality

I WILL NOT WRITE ANY ROMANCE BETWEEN SIBLINGS (THAT INCLUDES CLONES) (example: Lucas Grey + Agent 47)

𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚘 𝟸𝚂𝙻𝙶𝙱𝚃𝚀𝙸𝙰+/𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒 𝚌𝚘𝚙/𝚙𝚛𝚘 𝙿𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎/𝚙𝚛𝚘-𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚗𝚔 <𝟹𝟹 (POLY SHIPS/FICS ARE OK ❤️)

this is an anti-ai (includes c.ai) blog

Tag Navigation:

Tag: Other's fics = fanfictions i reblog that are not written by me

Tag: Smut = adult fun time

Tag: Other's content = content I reblog that I did not create

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Fandoms I will write for:

Cyberpunk

Fallout 4/New Vegas/TV Show

Hitman (newer series, diana burnwood, 47, etc.)

Cult Of The Lamb

Call of duty (Modern warfare remake series, don't know much about the other games lol)

Skyrim/Oblivion

Far Cry 3, 4, 5 and 6

Bioshock series

Zelda: BOTW

Bendy and the ink machine

Dead By Daylight

Undertale

Minecraft

Resident Evil

Team fortress 2

Mafia

Fictif/The Arcana

[tedious-gaymers]

Minecraft ( Lucas Grey X Male Reader)

This man deserves so much more than what IO interactive did to his character >:((

IF YOU DO NOT RESPECT MY "DNI" I WILL PERSONALLY MESSAGE YOU MYSELF AND (politely) TELL YOU TO RESPECT PEOPLE'S DNI.

Lucas Grey X Agent 47 shippers/proshippers/TERFS DNI

TW: death mention/canon typical violence mention

DO NOT USE MY WRITING FOR AI TRAINING

   "Darling, what are you playing?" Lucas asked as he sat next to you. He seemed tired. You could tell, from the look in his eyes. You leaned into him as you played. Lucas smiled as you did, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. 

   "It's just Minecraft, everything is all.. Blocky. It's fun though." You responded. You felt your heart flutter when he kissed you. "Wanna play with? I can show you how to play." You looked up at him. Lucas sighed, giving it some thought. He didn't have much to do other than sit and watch, taking a quick break from taking down providence, and the death involved. "Alright.. Where's the other remote?" You smiled brightly, and reached to grab the other remote. 

                                     ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"Oh! I Found some coal!" Lucas spoke, happily mining away at the ore. "Oh sweet! Careful though, it's recommend that you mine on a different block next to the one you're mining, that way in case there's lava underneath you won't fall in and die." Lucas froze for a moment, clearly perplexed by your advice. "This is for children..?" You snickered. "Oh man, wait until we meet The Warden." Lucas sighed, playfully rolling his eyes at you. As he moved his character towards the coal, before a loud explosion disrupted Lucas' mining. 

lucasgrey was blown up by a creeper

You held back your laughter as Lucas sat frozen, puzzled. "What the hell was that??" he asked, re-spawning his character into the world. "Creeper. They've uh.. Got explosive personalities." You said. Lucas sighed, giving you his disappointed dad look. "What??" You stared back. "You're lucky I love you, (y/n)." He chuckled. He leaned over to press a quick kiss to your cheek. 

[tedious-gaymers]

What Do We Do With A Drunken Idiot? (Poly!Leon/Ada/M!Reader)

Drunk Leon is an idiot. He thinks he's cheating on reader with Ada, but all three are in a poly relationship. (Tw for alcohol mention/drunk/cheating mention)

Wattpad/AO3:

Leon was drunk, tonight would be entertaining. You got a text from Ada, telling you Leon was a bit drunk. You sighed as you unlocked the front door, ready for the drama. It wasn’t like he would be abusive, he’d cry over tiny things, like the cat being “too cute he had to arrest her.” It was rare that he got drunk now. You walked towards the bedroom and saw them. You saw Leon cuddling with Ada, and whispering sweet nothings to her. The moment you walked in, fear washed over his eyes as he spotted you. “Darling.. I.. I-it’s not what it looks like..” His words were slurred, and his breath reeked of alcohol. “Leon?? Y-you’re not cheating.” You tried your best not to laugh, wrapping your arms around Leon as he hugged you tightly, sobbing. The thing is, you, Ada and Leon were all in a polyamorous relationship together. You sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Leon, come on. Let's get you in bed." You spoke softly. Leon sniffled. "Y-you're not going to b-break up with me?" He asked, like a sniveling child. "No, Leon. No one was cheating on anyone, OK?" Ada took Leon into her arms, leading him back to the bed. Leon's protests fell upon deaf ears, still trying to explain himself. "C-can I have some water?" Leon whimpered. "I'll get it, get him comfortable, Ada." You smiled, pressing a kiss to Ada's cheek. As you left the bedroom, you could hear Leon whining, and crying.

`~`~`~`~` You carefully walked back to the bedroom with the glass of water in your hand. You pushed the door open, and your heart softened at the sight of your boyfriend fast asleep, snuggled into Ada's arms. You sighed, placing the glass down on the nightstand. You snuggled into Leon's back, nose buried into the back of his neck as you fell asleep.

----

"Ada.. How drunk was I?" "You thought you were cheating on (Y/N).." "..Great."

[tedious-gaymers]

🐅 Vaas Montenegro x male!Reader Oneshot Mi hermoso chico 📺

You were sitting on the porch of the hut and smoking. The sun was gradually setting and the silence was interrupted by loud music that the pirates loved so much. You preferred to sit apart from the others, at least tonight. Fragments of phrases in Spanish reached your ears, which for you were just beautiful words whose essence you did not understand. Despite the fact that you have been living on the island for more than a year, you knew only a few phrases in Spanish that helped you in your work and when you went to the nearest village to buy something, but you understood simple conversations very poorly, which was sometimes used by others to make fun of you. Their jokes never hurt you, but every time Vaas spoke in Spanish, you didn't know how to react. Sometimes your comrades looked at him as if he was threatening to kill you with a smile on his face, but when you asked them to translate for you what Vaas said, they refused, sometimes looking at him warily. You stopped paying much attention to it, as well as to some of his actions. He could often put his hand on your shoulder or on your waist, but you perceived it as friendly gestures, ignoring some concern in the views of others. The sound of footsteps brought you out of your thoughts.

"What are you doing here all alone?"

It was Vaas. You were surprised that he left the general fun that was clearly just beginning to come to you.

"Just decided to smoke in silence, boss"

He grinned and sat down next to you. You handed him a half-empty pack of cigarettes, but Vaas shook his head negatively. You weren't going to insist by putting the pack back in your pocket. You were both silent, not in a hurry to start a conversation. You wanted to ask him why he came, but you didn't know how he could react to it, so you kept silent. The music has become seemingly louder.

"It seems the party is in full swing"

"It looks like you want to go to them?"

You shrugged your shoulders.

"I'm quite happy to be here"

"You know, chico, sometimes you can be strange"

"Is that a compliment?"

Vaas just continued to smile mysteriously. His voice broke the silence again.

"Te quiero, mi hermoso chico"

"Boss, you know the only thing I've understood is that you're calling me chico again"

"This time I'll help you make sense of it, so be it"

Vaas took the cigarette that you had been smoking before and, pulling you to him, kissed you. You froze, eyes wide open. Vaas didn't wait for your reaction, interrupting the kiss.

"I hope I explained it clearly enough"

He left, taking your cigarette and leaving you alone. Your face was very red, all you could do was open and close your mouth, trying to realize what had happened. It was at this moment that you realized that you really should finally learn a few more phrases in Spanish, at least to understand what this kiss meant.