#overheard in raccoon city

[ladyantiheroine]

Ada: No one can hurt you if you detach yourself from everything and avoid becoming emotionally invested in anyone.

Leon Kennedy, approaching: Hi.

Ada, sweating: shit.

#overheard in raccoon city #resident evil 2 #aeon #leon kennedy #ada wong #leon x ada #resident evil

[so-mordor-itis]

Eye on You

“give peace a chance, let the fear you have fall away, i’ve got my eye on you. say yes to heaven, say yes to me.

if you go, I’ll stay.. you come back, I’ll be right here. like a barge at sea, in the storm I stay clear, cause I’ve got my mind on you”

I told you I'd write a drabble but uhhhhh this ain't no drabble- @unhealthy-leon-brainrot

1998.

Leon loved differently back then. He loved in a way a 21 year old man freshly graduated from college could. He was giddy whenever the person in his interest would smile at him, would give him any time of day. His hands would become clammy, and his heart would race as if he were still a teenager. Sometimes, he truly felt like one at heart. That his soul was trapped in that time period, and it wouldn't ever leave.

It's why when he met you for the first time, and when you smiled at him as if nothing could go wrong, his face burned, and his heart almost burst right then and there. You were a brilliant flame, and he felt like a small candle stick awaiting to be lit.

He asked you out in a sputter of words, hating himself immediately after listening to them tumble. Leon didn't want his nervousness to show. He had been practicing for weeks in front of bathroom mirrors and sometimes in the Officer's Academy shower, hoping nobody overheard him. He wanted it to be perfect because that's what you deserved.

You giggled, and somehow, his heart both fluttered and sank. Your eyes glittered with an emotion that made him slightly hopeful. "You want to take me out on a date?"

"Yeah," he replied, all too quickly. "If you'd like to that is--only if you'd like to." He wished he could stop himself from talking, but he couldn't.

You smiled at him, and dammit there went the last of his coherent thoughts. "You know what? Sure. I don't have anything interesting going on." You laughed again, looking away shyly. "I can't say no when you're looking at me like that."

"Like what?" Leon asked, though he fully knew what you were talking about.

"Like I'm the only thing on your mind," you responded. You were fidgeting with your shirt, and Leon wanted nothing more than to grab your hands and hold them.

You weren't incorrect, either. You were on his mind a frightening amount. This affection for you was a buzz in the back of his mind, a throb in his chest.

You still said yes.

"So it's a date?"

"Yes, it's a date."

He swore he grinned from ear to ear, and he saw you return it.

--

The day he was supposed to pick you up, he never did. You were more worried than disappointed. Leon didn't seem like the type of guy you ask you out, gazing at you as if you created the sky and the stars, and then drop you like a hat. Despite the bitter part of you wanting to think he ditched you, the rational part knew better.

He called you hours later, apologetic and broken. "I'm so sorry. Something... something came up."

"Forget the date," you quickly muttered, surprised at how swift the words left your mouth. "Are you okay?"

He was silent for a bit. "Not really."

"Where are you? I'm coming to you."

"No, wait," Leon called your name almost in a plea. "I don't want you to drag yourself into this."

You weren't backing down without a little bit of a fight. "Leon, please."

He paused before stating he was in a hospital outside of Raccoon City.

--

Leon knew he loved you after that. He never admitted to himself until he was sure, but he couldn't prevent that innocent crush from growing into something more powerful.

You became a firework, blazing in his lonely, starless sky. You had always been.

2004.

He liked to believe he still loved the same. Wanted to love the same as he did all those years ago. His heart pounding and his palms becoming clammy, blue eyes full of innocent love.

He knew he didn't.

Leon was reserved now, awkward with his affection, hesitant with his touches yet still craved it. He hated that you had to watch him develop--no, perhaps devolve was the better word here--this trauma response. This training, this work, it all collapsed on top of him, and sometimes he felt as if it would eventually crush him.

Yet, some part of you still saw his old self. That stupid, lovesick boy who craved your attention the way a puppy would a scrap of food. You still gave him love, still kissed his scars, still told him sweet nothings when he broke down crying because the pressure was too much.

He once asked you if you were okay with all of this still, okay with him. You gave him your usual smile, the one that made him weak and touched that lovesick boy deep down. "You're stuck with me, Leon. I gave myself to you the day you asked me out. I'm staying. No matter what happens, I'm here."

He kissed you hard that day. Harder than he ever had. Placing a promise against your lips that he would always come back to you. No matter what.

--

You often wondered what he would do without you. If he would crash and burn the moment you turned around, if the night terrors would claw at his throat and suffocate him.

It was hard, watching him suffer mentally when all you could do was give him words of affirmation. Reassure him that the nightmares weren't real and that you were truly there with him and not bloodied up and dead.

Those moments made the good ones feel like precious gifts. Not just for you, but also for him. You carried them in your heart and held on to those when the bad days would storm over his head.

You remembered one of those good days so clearly, so vividly it never failed to make you smile. One day, while looking over some files, Leon had fallen asleep. His glasses--the ones he usually only used whenever he was reading important work files--were scrunched against his face, pushing up against the bridge of his nose. You remembered walking into his office, snickering a little at the sight. You sighed, shaking your head. "What am I going to do with you?"

You approached him quietly, as if the smallest movement would ruin his peaceful slumber. You grabbed the rims of his glasses carefully, pulling them off his face so he'd be more comfortable. As you did, you caught a feel of his soft locks and couldn't help but lightly smooth between your fingers. You took note of his facial features; his cheekbones were more rigid, and the shadows of his eyes were sunken in. His hair was even a bit darker, looking dirtier blond than it had when you first met. Still handsome, that would never change.

The urge to kiss his forehead had you twitching, but you didn’t want to disturb him. Especially since he had probably been staring at documented words for who knows how long.

You moved to quietly nudge yourself away before his sleepy voice mumbled. "Gonna go so soon?"

You blinked, looking down to see his eyes were now open. Still hazy from his rest. You practically beamed at him. "Didn't wanna wake you."

Leon sat up, stretching a little before putting his glasses back on. "Guess I must've passed out. These reports practically put me to sleep. I can't believe this is part of what they pay me for."

You attempted to catch a glimpse of whatever was on the document, but he placed them flat on the table when he caught you.

Leon snickered. "Classified. Sorry, baby."

You pouted a little. "Can't I help my boyfriend out a little?"

He stood up and stretched more, popping his back. "Not if it means you getting in trouble by seeing the reports. I'd also get in trouble, and we definitely wouldn't want that."

"Man, and here I thought I'd be able to see the famous missions Leon Kennedy goes on," you teased.

Leon just rolled his eyes as if you two had had this discussion before. You have. You just like to see him smile. Distract him as much as you could.

"Become an agent, then we'll talk." He took off his glasses and put them back on his desk. He placed his gaze upon you, and you could feel the adoration in his eyes. He still looked at you as if you had created the sky, the moon, the stars. As if you were his sun and he orbited around you and only you. You would never get over it.

Leon mimicked the action you were doing earlier and parted your hair from your cheeks so he could kiss your forehead.

His work phone rang loud, interrupting the moment. Leon sighed and kissed you quickly against the lips before the obligation to his duty forced him to go answer it.

"Kennedy. Yes, sir."

You observed his body language as he discussed with his superior. His shoulders went rigid, his eyes focused as if he were already on the field. He was prepared for whatever they were about to tell him because he had to be.

He hung up after a minute of giving affirming hums and a variety of yeses. Leon plopped his phone on the documentations and gave you an apologetic look.

"Don't worry about it." You shook your head. You knew what he was about to say. He didn't even need to tell you anything out loud. His eyes told the whole story.

"I really don't deserve you," he mumbled. "Makes me wonder how you do it."

"Because I love you." You said simply. "I'm here to stay, remember?"

--

|Tags:|

@seraphiism , @uhlunaro , @izuniias , @honeyfict , @konigbabe , @leonskillshot , @airanke , @muffimtv , @justonemore-fic , @mandalhoerian , @tosuckmyweenis , @boundinparchment

#resident evil x reader #resident evil 2 remake #resident evil imagines #resident evil 4 #resident evil #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy resident evil #leon x you #leon x y/n #leon x reader #my writing

[ellieslaces]

FADE INTO YOU.

featuring: rookie!leon x fem stars agent!reader

synopsis: a collection of headcannons in which rookie cop leon has a crush on the reader, who’s a s.t.a.r.s agent

content warnings: harsh language; allusions to smut; make-out sessions; flirty reader; mostly wholesome content; canon divergent

notes: i was inspired by @darling-i-read-it when i saw the post abt Leon having a crush on a STARS agent and oml i haven’t stopped thinking about it so here i am yet again

now playing: Fade Into You by Mazzy Star

• Leon had just started his position as a rookie cop at the Raccoon City PD and he’s always given the worst little tasks and assignments

• one day though - about four days into his first week - he passes the STARS office on his way with boxes to the storage room and almost drops them all

• he sees without a doubt the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen in the STARS office, laughing at something the guy beside her said

• he has to pull himself together and take the boxes to storage room, his little heart hammering so fast the whole time

• Leon finally being introduced to you and the rest of the STARS team the next week when he’s instructed to take some paperwork to the STARS office

• he fell in love immediately when you walked to him, smiling widely, and taking the papers while introducing yourself

• he can hardly keep himself together as you walk him around the STARS office and introduce each agent to him

• he falls even harder when you scold each one, telling them all to be nice to him because he’s new

• after that, Leon always finds himself gravitating toward you any chance he gets — in the copy room, the kitchen, the shooting range

• you thinking he took a liking to you because you were one of the only ones who didn’t give him a hard time and to be honest, you didn’t really mind. he was sweet and totally lovable

• Leon honestly found it so insane how you were an absolute menace around the station

• like you would go around the office and flirt with a few officers to get them to do a task for you that you really didn’t want to do in the first place

• of course it always worked and they were all suckers for you

• and if he thought you were a menace on a daily bases, oh he was so surprised at how bold you were at holiday parties

• you would dance to the music in the most inappropriate ways possible for a work party

• and for some reason, it made him like you even more

• he also loved how you’d wear headphones with a walkman on your belt, and sing along, and dance to the music while you made copies or just walked around the station

• his crush on you was so bad, like next level bad

• in fact, you didn’t pick up on his crush on you at all. it was Jill who did. she never said a word of course, but she could just tell

• Leon always felt a little jealousy when he saw you talking to another agent, like Chris

• he knew you were out of his league, but he couldn’t help the hot jealousy in his chest as he would watch you laugh at something Chris said

• of course, he didn’t know that you’d rejected Chris when you first started working there and he asked you out a few times

• oh but Jill does. she loves to tease him for it, always reminding him of how you brutally shot him down

• and the teasing quickly becomes a problem when Leon walks by the STARS office one day and overhears Jill’s teasing

• of course, all Leon’s lovesick little brain processes are the words Chris, crush, and your name

• he doesn’t talk to you for two weeks. he ignores your jokes, your teases, your playful flirting (which he never ignores)

• until you finally get it out of him two weeks later in the shooting range

• he stammers and tells you he overheard Jill talking about you and Chris, and he likes you but it’s okay because he knows you don’t feel the same way, and you and Chris would be good together

• and you almost break then “oh, Leon, i don’t like Chris. Jill just likes to tease him because i rejected him when i started working here”

• Leon is obviously stunned “oh, uh, you don’t? sorry, i shouldn’t have said all that now i feel bad and -”

• “no, Leon. don’t feel bad. i actually kinda like you too you know…” you smiled sheepishly — which is pretty rare for you to be nervous

• Leon’s eyes widening to an unnatural size as he grins “you do? really? i didn’t think you’d like me i’m just a rookie.”

• “whether you’re a rookie or a trained professional, i like you. you’re really sweet and i know you’d treat me really well.”

• after that, you two start dating

• which is so fucking weird because a lot of the guys in the station — STARS and non-STARS — have been hitting on you and Jill since like the dawn of time

• it’s a little tense for Leon for a little while because a few other guys are even resentful you fell for a rookie and not them

• but of course Leon won’t say a word to them, so when he’s not around you put them in their place and tell them to leave him alone or you’ll fuck them up

• they are all obviously a little scared so they listen and start being nice - or as nice to a rookie as possible- to him again

• Leon always being so nervous and worrisome when you go in assignment

• seriously, he’ll worry himself to a point where he can’t sleep and he’ll nod off at his desk during the day

• when you finally get back, he always tells you how much he missed you and how worried he was and how he never wants you to leave him again

• but of course you always go on assignments. it’s a cruel cycle really

• you realize you were right — Leon did treat you so well. like a fucking princess honestly

• you believe you were so lucky that day when the lieutenant forced him to take paper work up to the STARS office

• Leon being literally the sweetest and best boyfriend you ever had and always making sure you’re okay and happy and safe

• but how could you not be happy? Leon is literally perfect to you and you couldn’t be happier with anyone else

how you can support Palestine! 🇵🇸

#leon kennedy #re2 leon #rookie!leon #rookie!leonkennedy #re2make #resident evil #rookie leon kennedy #raccoon city #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy headcanons #leon kennedy x fem reader #lupinsslut

[mychoombatheroomba]

Weakest Links

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 35

You aren't the only one left broken after the test, as Leon soon learns.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

Leon felt numb as he closed the door behind him, leaving you alone in that room. 

All he knew was that he wished he could have been there for you tonight. He wanted to stay with you. He wished so desperately that he could have been with you for longer, because the last thing you needed right now was to be alone. He’d only spent a few minutes with you before you’d asked him to leave you be. 

“I’ll be fine. Just go.”

You’d told him that, and it hadn’t been the command that had stung, but the strain in your voice. The ice creeping back in that made a winter’s morning of your words. 

He blinked his heavy eyelids and clenched his fists, feeling so utterly defeated. Defeated because there was nothing he could do to help you, no way to take back the blow and no way to fix what had been broken. 

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to find Reed and Hellman and . . . and what? What could he do? Rage at them? Tear into them the way Krauser had? 

Krauser. The man who’d been so cruel in his training thus far, but not like this. Who’d so often said that you needed to be ready for anything. Who’d not told the rest of the squad about Raccoon City and the bioweapons that destroyed it because he’d been ordered to be silent. 

Krauser, who had looked fully prepared to kill Reed the moment he arrived. Who had carried you so carefully from that abandoned prison. 

Krauser. 

That was who Leon set out in search of, ignoring the exhaustion in his bones, the aching of his bruises as he walked. 

He could hear the Major’s guttural voice as he crept forward, and the cooler voices of Reed and Hellman interspersed between bouts of scathing anger. Leon tucked himself against the wall as he listened, because he needed to know why. Why you and the rest had been made to suffer like that, and what it meant now that these men were here. A test, Krauser had said. 

And it was what he continued to growl as Leon overheard the words spoken around the corner. 

“. . . if that would be easier-”

“No.” Krauser. His voice was just as angry as before but strained. Like he was backed into a corner and had resigned that he couldn’t fight his way out. “They’re my men. It’s my responsibility.” 

Leon’s brows pinched together at what he was hearing, his gaze fixed on the floor at his feet as he listened. 

Reed’s voice - one that sent Leon’s chest tightening in anger - came next. The fear that Leon had seen in him back in the other room seemed to be gone, because his voice was back to that apathetic drawl. “And the Sergeant?” 

Leon looked up, because there was only one Sergeant they could be talking about. 

And his rage only flared as Reed went on. “With injuries like that-”

“Choose your next words very carefully,” Krauser warned, and Leon tensed at the utter ferocity in his tone. He couldn’t see the Major from where he hid around the corner, but he could feel the anger even from there. 

Reed seemed to heed the words, and there was a pause before he spoke again. “I only meant that training with that injury will be impossible. Not until it heals.” 

“An injury you are responsible for.”

It took everything not for Leon to speak up. To reveal himself and tell these bastards that you were stronger than they knew. That even the injuries they’d inflicted on you wouldn’t stop you. But Krauser, for the second time today, defended you where Leon wasn’t able to.

“I’m already giving up too many men for the sake of your bullshit. It will heal.” 

“I hope it does heal,” Hellman said, and again he sounded genuine, just as he had back in the main room of the infirmary. As if he hadn’t led the torture of fifteen people. As if what he’d done was forgivable. “We will need every able body we can get.”

“Then let the rest stay,” Krauser said, and again Leon felt something in him sink. “They can be trained-”

“You know we can’t risk that. Not with the information they’re going to be given. Not when they’re going to be pitted against an enemy that doesn’t care about rules of engagement or human ethics of any kind. If they broke for us, they will break under that pressure too.”

“You fucking tortured them for three fucking days. You don’t throw someone into a knife fight with no training and expect them to do well.”

Three days? They’d been in there for three days?

Reed scoffed. “An interesting stance to take, given your own training methods thus far.” 

“I’m trying to prepare them-”

“Major,” Hellman interrupted again, his voice just as calm and collected, “we have our orders. All of us. Whether we agree with them or not. You agreed to this.” 

A beat of silence in which Leon felt his fury sharpen. He’d agreed. Krauser had fucking agreed- 

“Not everyone who broke,” Krauser said after a moment, a plea disguised as a command. “Keep the ones who held out until the end at least. Soto and Kennedy.” 

Leon froze, eyes wide. Soto and Kennedy. Valeria and him. She’d broken too. Like him. And now Krauser was trying to convince these men to let them stay. To keep training to fight nightmares.

Was he afraid of being included in those sent home? Yes, he supposed he was. There wasn’t much for him to go back to, anyway. This had been the alternative to prison. The penance for knowing too much, for uncovering secrets buried beneath a now-ruined city. Become useful or become silent, that had been the choice. So, if Reed and Hellman were making Krauser send people home - the ones who’d failed . . . had that time in an abandoned prison just been a prelude to a life spent behind bars?

Were you going to be left alone again? 

“It’s a risk, Major-” 

“Then take it. Kennedy already knows all the shit you’re going to be telling them anyway and Soto is one of my best. She can learn. They both can.” 

“Soto gave up information about her squad,” Reed declared. “And Kennedy withheld information from federal investigators following Raccoon City. You want weak links to stay?” 

“I want you to let me worry about my own men. Soto is a good soldier. She’ll be a valuable asset. And Kennedy has more experience dealing with Umbrella than anyone here. You said we need as many men as we can spare.” Desperation, when it came to Jack Krauser, seemed to take the form of tension. Words strained to the breaking point. Leon didn’t know what to think as he heard the Major defending him and Valeria.

Nor did he know what to think when he heard Hellman sigh. “Fine.” 

One word, and Leon’s future in STRATCOM was secured, for better or worse. 

“I’ll offer again, if you’d rather we tell them . . .”

“I said I’d do it.” Leon had spent the last few months hearing Krauser’s voice. It had always been self-assured. Steadfast. Now, as Leon listened to it, he sounded defeated. “In the morning. They deserve their rest tonight.”

“As you wish,” Hellman said. “We’ll get settled in then.” 

Krauser just grunted in response. 

“We’ll meet tomorrow to discuss next steps.”

“Fine.”

Another moment of silence. 

“Major,” Hellman went on, “I’m sorry. Truly.” 

“Apologize to my men, not to me.” 

Another beat before Hellman bid Krauser a goodnight. Footsteps heading away from Leon. Two sets. The sound of a door opening. More silence and then-

“Fuck.” Krauser swore. 

Leon didn’t wait long enough to hear anything else, retreating back to the main room of the infirmary. He’d come in search of a fight, he supposed, but hearing the utter defeat in the Major’s voice, he found that will silenced. 

⧫⧫⧫

Leon had never imagined that the bare-bones barracks would be a welcome sight, but as the squad filed in that night, he found himself almost relieved to be back. Almost, because one person was missing. One bed wouldn’t be filled tonight . . . and likely not for many nights to come. 

The doc wanted to keep an eye on you, so Krauser had agreed that it was best for you to stay in the infirmary. For how long, Leon wasn’t sure. 

You’d been smiling when you left Fort Benning but now . . . 

Then again, so many of you had been smiling, and those smiles had died slow deaths behind bars, drowned and beaten away. 

And still, those weren’t the worst pains that had been suffered. Leon could see that much in his squad’s eyes as everyone settled in for the night. Krauser had tried to get everyone to eat some food on the doc’s advice. Leon, despite the starvation that had set in behind those bars after three days, had barely any appetite. 

How could he eat, when it was clear that this had all happened because Krauser had kept his word. He’d tried to get clearance the proper way to tell his men what happened in Raccoon City, just as Leon had asked him to. How could he eat with the knowledge of that settled on his shoulders? How could he force food down when he’d come so close to yet another change in his life? What would have happened if Krauser hadn’t gotten Hellman to let him stay? He’d been so quick to dismiss the thought of being discharged before but now, when faced with the real threat of it . . .

But it didn’t matter. He and Valeria had been spared that. 

Valeria, who had not eaten until Krauser ordered her to. Who had sat at that table, staring blankly into the food in front of her, looking up when she felt Leon’s eyes on her and then quickly looking away. Seeing her like that . . . even after three days of little food or sleep and too much pain, Leon was worried for her. What had they done to her to make her so empty now?

She gave up information about her squad. What information? What had she told them? 

Leon didn’t know. But the two of them didn’t eat much. The food was never any good, anyway, so their trays remained mostly untouched.

The same was true of most everyone else, and it felt like the tables in the mess hall were surrounded by ghosts more than people. That didn’t change now, as Leon and the others changed from their bloodied, dirty clothes. How many of them would be told tomorrow morning that their time here was at an end? That all their hard work, all their dedication and service would mean nothing? Leon slipped a fresh shirt on, his hands shaking, his mind well past fraying and set to unraveling instead.

He’d suffered worse. He had to remind himself of that. 

Keep it together. 

You get to stay. You’re not the one in pain. You’re not the one lying alone in a hospital bed. You’re not the one that will be stuck there for who knows how long- 

“How’s Sarge?” 

Alenko couldn’t have known the question would just further crack Leon’s resolve. He meant well in asking it. He cared enough to do it, even if the worry in his voice was beaten out by utter fatigue. Still, it made Leon frown because you were not fine, though you’d assured him otherwise. He knew that for damn sure. 

So, he just shook his head. “Hurting,” he answered simply, the word digging its hooks into him, barely assuaged by the words you’d spoken to him as he left the infirmary. 

“Leon,” you’d called after him. “It’s not your fault.” 

Didn’t change much, in Leon’s eyes. 

Alenko nodded, sitting on his bunk, the one next to Leon’s and shaking his head. “Why the fuck would they do that?” he wondered aloud, running a hand over his face. 

And then, finally, it was Valeria who spoke. For the first time since you’d all been freed. For the first time in a long while. “Because they knew you’re friends,” she murmured, like the words pained her, and Leon felt something drop in his gut. 

“Soto gave up information about her squad.”

Just as at dinner, Valeria wasn’t able to meet Leon’s eyes and that only made that feeling of dread worsen. 

“Valeria,” he breathed, and she clenched her jaw. 

“I told them,” she forced out, her bruised face drawn into an empty expression. Leon, in the meantime, couldn’t hide his expression of horror, the stab of betrayal in his gut. Familiar, that feeling. The difference was that Valeria was bad at hiding her guilt. “They asked about you two, so I told them you were friends.” She shook her head, no doubt feeling the weight of the rest of the squad listening in, Alejandro and Shinoda and Williams and all the rest staring at her in shock. Maybe that was what made her finally look towards Leon. “I didn’t think they’d . . .” 

His bottom lip trembled, his body giving him one last surge of energy. “Why?” he demanded, overcome with fear because if she’d told them anything else . . . if they knew-

Valeria met his eyes, though, and Leon was met with a side of her he never thought he’d see. He stilled as he saw her eyes shining, even as she tried to fight the tears back. “Because they had a letter from my mom, and they said they’d let me read it if I answered them.” Leon winced, not just for the sheer pain in Valeria’s voice but for the fact that they’d almost broken him in the same way. The letter from Sherry, the promise of knowing that she was okay . . . “I guess she’s sick. That’s what they led with and-” she cut herself off, shaking her head. Her voice wavered as she spoke again. “I’m sorry. Okay? I had to know she was okay.” 

Williams was at her side in an instant, wrapping an arm around the other woman’s shoulders. Or trying to. Valeria pushed her away, and Williams just bit her lip but ultimately let her have space. 

Leon could only stare. What else was there to do? Could he condemn Valeria for what he understood? Maybe, but when he’d come so close to answering their questions, to giving up Claire . . . he’d broken when the person he cared for most, the person he’d loved, had been in pain. 

How could he judge Valeria for that? 

“It . . .” he looked down, feeling like the world was spinning around him. “It’s okay.” How could he ask if she’d told them everything? How could he find out without letting everyone else in the barracks know what was between you and him? 

Valeria must have known his worries. Of course she would. “I didn’t tell them anything else,” she promised. She wasn’t talking just about the rest of the squad, he knew, but the secret she’d kept for him and for you. As Leon looked up at her, he found no reason to doubt her. “I keep my promises.” 

He believed her. It settled his nerves, albeit slightly. “Okay,” he nodded. 

The rest of the evening was spent in silence. Sleep came to him quickly when he lay his head down but was taken just as fast by the memories of screams from behind iron bars. A man pleading for help only to have his head crushed behind a gloved hand, his screams twisting and morphing until it wasn’t that man anymore. 

It was you. 

The sound of the man’s bones breaking became indistinguishable from your own. You were screaming and Leon could do nothing about it, reaching for you through the bars of his cell, unable to stop it. 

He awoke from the dream with a jolt, his damaged body protesting as he sat up in his cot. The room was dark, but with the light streaming in through the windows he could make out the shapes of his comrades as he looked around. Normally, he would look for you and even now, he felt his eyes go towards your bunk only to find it empty as expected. What he did see, though, just one bed over, was enough to make his heart ache. Williams’ bunk was beside yours, and the lamplight highlighted a muscled arm reaching out towards the opposite side. 

And a pair of hands joined together in the space between the two beds. 

If either Williams or Valeria were awake, Leon couldn’t tell. Either way, they held onto each other in the dark, and Leon smiled at the sight. 

A smile that turned bitter, because all he wanted in that moment was to be able to do the same with you. 

⧫⧫⧫

You didn’t really remember falling asleep, only that you were alone when you did. 

You didn’t stay that way. You were never alone in your dreams. Your comrades came to you, just as they always did. 

Dead faces, dead eyes. 

So many dead. 

So much pain. Pain as you felt ice in your throat that turned to water in your lungs. Frenzied fingers trying to rip you apart that turned to fists crashing into your face. A blow with a gloved hand coiling back and then connecting with your ribs . . . and a knife coming away dripping red, leaving broken flesh and bone behind it. 

That was all it took for you to wake, and that pain stayed with you as your ribs protested your movements. 

Broken.

They were broken. 

Were you broken too? 

“Knew you wouldn’t be asleep long.” You hadn’t expected to have company out of the dream. You hadn’t expected Major Krauser’s harsh voice to greet you when you woke. As it was, you blinked, your lips parting as you tried to push yourself up - tried not to cry out as you moved. 

Focus on something else. 

The sunlight coming in through the windows. 

The red of Krauser’s beret. 

The movement of the doc from the Major’s side to your own. 

He helped you sit up, murmuring for you to take it easy, kid. 

There were a few moments then, where the Doc checked in on you, helped guide you carefully back down on the bed, where you were reminded of a day not so long ago, and not so dissimilar to this one. A day where you’d awoken in a hospital bed with broken ribs and Major Krauser standing vigil over you. 

That first time, though, he’d looked happy to see you awake at last. Now . . . now he just looked tired. 

“Here,” the Doc tried to hand you some pills and a glass of water. Painkillers.

You shook your head. Pushed them away. “I’m fine.”

There was only a debate for a second or two before Krauser’s gruff voice interrupted. “Don’t be stupid,” he said, his arms crossed over his chest, looking into your eyes with worry. “Take the damn meds.” 

It wasn’t a request. So, you found yourself downing the water the Doc handed to you to wash the pills down. When you lay back down, you were struck with a feeling, one you had hoped never to experience again. 

Weakness. 

You hated Krauser’s concerned gaze, and you hated the thoughts that you imagined were lurking just behind that stare. Thoughts of how your injury would set you back. How you couldn’t fight, couldn’t train . . . because that was all you could think of, too. Even after Leon’s attempt at comfort last night. Comfort wasn’t what the Major would offer you now, though. You felt sure enough of that. Even more so when, after a moment, he shifted his weight and looked up at the other man in the room. 

“Give us a minute, Doc,” he murmured, and the grizzled medic just looked back at him with a nod. He left the room, and Krauser watched him go. The Major’s mouth was pressed into a frown, and he met your eyes with some effort. “How you holding up?” he asked. 

If you were feeling better, you might have given him a look. You might have made a little joke about how you were feeling just peachy. 

As it was, though, you just clenched your jaw. “I’m fine, sir.” 

Krauser’s brow lowered, but he didn’t contradict you. Didn’t tell you to stop bullshitting him. He just looked at you for a while longer before he growled, shaking his head and stepping off to the side. “Son of a bitch,” he hissed out, his fury poorly contained.

You wanted to tell him that his frustrations weren’t helping you, but you knew damn well this wasn’t just about you. 

“How is everyone else, sir?” you asked. No one else had been sent to join you last night, so you assumed that there were no serious injuries. Just you. That didn’t mean that everyone was alright, though. 

Krauser all but confirmed that with his eyes before he answered. “Tired,” he admitted. “Same as you.” 

Except not. 

Not the same, because you were stuck here. You were going to be stuck in the med bay while everyone else-

You’d already beaten that thought to death. No sense in carrying on with it. 

But still . . .

“Did you know?” you asked, your voice quiet. You looked up at him, and you hoped so sincerely that his answer lined up with the image you had of the Major in your mind. You hoped that all the times you defended his harsh methods to Leon weren’t about to be thrown back in your face. “Did you know they were going to do this?” 

Krauser’s answer was immediate. 

“No,” he shook his head, meeting your eyes. “No, I didn’t know. We came looking for you all when you missed the rendezvous. Found the Humvees abandoned. I thought it was Umbrella at first, but no. Just that bastard Hellman.” You’d had the privilege of seeing the Major lower his guard before. It had been in a hospital then, as now. It let you know that the regret in his voice was genuine. 

It was enough for you. 

“Okay. And Reed?” you asked, remembering the agent’s name. The man who’d broken your ribs for a second time. 

The man you, at present, most wanted to kill. Maybe because, in your dream, his face had morphed into an even more impassive mask, one with red lenses over the eyes. 

If Krauser’s tone was any sign, dead was about all he wanted Reed to be, too. It seemed neither of you would be getting what you wanted, though. “He and Hellman will be staying on base with us.” You’d never heard the Major quite so bitter as he spoke the next few words. Part of you had expected that, though. It was just the sort of cruelty you’d come to expect from the universe. “They’re going to be training you all, the fuckers.” 

“And you?” you found yourself asking, eyes wide because you didn’t want Krauser cast to the sidelines. Whatever complicated feelings you had about the Major right now, you were sure of that. 

Krauser’s face softened at your worry, and he shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere. Just have to split the time between my shit and theirs. Orders from upstairs. Those were the terms.” 

“Terms?” you blinked but realized what the negotiation had been about.

“Yeah,” Krauser nodded, giving a bitter smile. “I got them to agree to hand over everything about Raccoon City, Finland, all of it. Everything they have on Umbrella and their bioweapons. They just needed to make sure they could ‘trust everyone getting the information’.” He shook his head, silently telling you that he thought the concept was bullshit. Or maybe it was the information itself. Maybe his frustrations were with more than just Reed and Hellman. Maybe the system as a whole. And maybe . . . “So they’ll know. The ones left, anyway. You can thank your rookie for that.” 

Even now, even with how much pain you were in, with all your worries pressing you into that hospital bed, you shook your head, finding it in you to defend Leon. “This isn’t his fault,” you said, your voice strong. Stronger than it had been in days, because you knew Leon should share none of the blame for this. 

Krauser’s eyes darkened and for a moment you thought he was going to fight you on it. So, you held his stare, trying to meet his conviction as best you could. Lying down was never a good way to put up a defense, but you did what you could.

And in the end, Krauser exhaled and nodded. “You’re right,” he said, but something in him had shifted. You could see it. “But that doesn’t change the fact that four of your squad will be sent home today.” 

Your eyes widened. Four. Four of you, no doubt those who had failed the “test”. 

“They wanted you gone, too,” he went on, and you felt your heart still, your blood chill. “You’re staying but . . . the calls on that aren’t mine to make anymore. They think someone isn’t a good fit, they send a note upstairs, you get reassigned. So you need to do everything you can to make them think you’ll be an asset if you want to stay, you understand? If you can’t train physically with the rest, you pay attention to what they teach you with all that spy shit. You learn everything you can, and you show them you need to be here.” 

You nodded, his words stoking something in you that you hadn’t been able to do for yourself. Fire. Determination. You knew he was right, and the thought of focusing on whatever those bastards had to teach you was better than the thought of sitting in a room for six weeks, letting your mind plague you. 

Krauser’s words were the spark. 

You didn’t feel better, you didn’t feel good, but you had a goal. You had something you could do, and that was almost enough for you to set aside the fact that you’d been dealt such a setback. 

You nodded, light returning to your eyes.

“I will.”

Krauser pursed his lips, and a slight shift in his expression was all the warning you were given. 

“You need to stop screwing around with the rookie, too.” 

Just a few words and that rekindled light died. 

You stared at Krauser dumbly, your mind stalling like a bullet had just gone through you and your body hadn’t quite realized it yet. 

“What?” 

Krauser didn’t look impressed by your confusion. “I’m not blind and you’re not subtle. Either of you.” 

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck-

“Reed and Hellman aren’t blind either,” Krauser went on, his eyes never leaving yours. “If they catch the two of you sneaking around, there will be consequences, and I’m losing enough men as it is.” 

You just continued to stare, feeling that old fear seeping back into you. He knew. Krauser knew. But the way he was looking at you . . . you couldn’t place the emotion on his face, even knowing him as well as you did. 

“I know that’s not what you wanna hear right now, but if you want to stay, if you want to take this fight to Umbrella, you can’t do it outside of STRATCOM and you can’t afford distractions.” 

If there was much of anything in your stomach, you might have felt like being sick because your secret was out. If it ever was a secret to begin with. You shouldn’t have been so stupid. You shouldn’t have done anything, you shouldn’t have given in to that need. Everything would have been easier that way, neither of you risking anything more than your lives. No risk of trouble . . .

But why hadn’t there been trouble? 

You looked up at Krauser after a moment, your new revelation pushing past the fear. “How long have you known?” 

Krauser, despite the disappointment you could discern in him, was still proving otherwise hard to read. He’d never looked at you like that before. Not that you could remember. “Since after assessments,” he admitted, and again you felt your stomach drop. So, that day when you and Leon thought you’d narrowly avoided a premature ending to things, he’d known. He’d known all this time and yet . . .

“Why didn’t you report it?” 

Krauser looked at you then, with that same strange expression. One you couldn’t really assign a name to. When he answered, his words were muted. Forced. “You think I wasn’t young and stupid, once? I know what it’s like to want that.” 

Was he . . .

“You’re going to fight shit the world’s never seen before,” he went on, and you could scarcely believe this was Jack Krauser you were talking to. “So long as it didn’t impact your judgment or your service, I don’t care who you’re fucking. You wanted to screw around with the pretty boy?” he spat the nickname bitterly, not with the same teasing affection you would use. “Fine. But these men will not share that opinion with me, I can guarantee you that.” 

Your throat felt constricted, your brow tied in knots. He . . . he was right. He was right but god, you didn’t want him to be. You couldn’t let Leon just slip through your fingers. 

But you may need to. 

“Don’t be stupid because it feels good,” Krauser advised, his words still quiet. “The earlier you learn that lesson, the better.” 

Again, you were silent, because that was all you could be. You looked away from the Major. The man who’d saved your life, who you respected more than any other man alive. The man who kept his gaze on you, just as unknowable. Just as strange. He knew there was nothing else to say, just as you did. 

“Get some rest,” he said, just as he had the night before. 

Then he was gone, leaving you to feel more alone than you’d been in a long time. 

⧫⧫⧫

Andersen. Shinoda. Lawson. Osborn. 

Those were the four that Krauser called to speak with the next day. The four that had broken. The four that would be gone, come tomorrow. 

They weren’t people that Leon was close with. Not really. But he’d trained with them. Lived with them. Learned from them. And because Reed and Hellman deemed it so, they would be sent back to wherever they came from. Leon watched them go, knowing full well what would happen to them. What could have happened to him. Had they been spared, in the long run? They would never have to know the horrors that awaited the rest of them. Was it better to have broken? 

No. Not for him. Not for you. 

So he held his head up as Hellman stepped in front of the squad - what remained of it. Eleven where there had been fifteen. “The Major and I agreed that you be given today to rest and recuperate,” he said, and Leon’s eyes hardened at the mere sound of his voice, and his body tensed. Like it was bracing for what was to come. “Tomorrow, we will begin.” 

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Chapter Index

A/N: Sorry for the delay! Been very busy this week (and also brainrotting over Dune Part 2, cause damn). Writing vibes for this one were "Major Crimes" by HEALTH, "So Far" by Ólafur Arnalds, "In Between" by James Marriott and "Heal" by Loreen (special shoutout to my lovely readers for the last two as recommendations!)

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #resident evil #between the bones #gender neutral reader #leon kennedy x you #no y/n #jack krauser

[susie-dreemurr]

Fuga Impossível: A story summary for The Gringos

I’ve been seeing people (mostly non-BR) get confused over Cellbit and Tazercraft’s references to their old prison break series, Fuga Impossível, (Impossible Escape) which is canon to their character in QSMP. As they discuss it in some story parts, including Cell’s recent letter to the boys, I thought that it’d be helpful to do a little summary! This is basically the Tazercraft wiki page for the “enredo” (plot) but translated and with a few differences.

Plot summary, from beginning to end, below:

Pac and Mike planned to infiltrate a museum in a big city to steal a valuable diamond, the plan being Mike's. However, almost at the end of the mission, the police end up finding and arresting them, and Pac and Mike are taken to the police station, where they are questioned by Detective Marrone, who makes them give themselves up and sends the two to sleep in prison. Upon waking up, Pac discovers that Mike has knocked out a guard, so the two decide to escape via a helicopter, but are caught by Marrone. Not even the efforts of Pac and Mike's lawyer, trying to clear them of the charges, reversed the situation; Pac and Mike end up being taken to the great prison of Alcatraz.

Arriving there, they are introduced to the prison director, Davi, and see the prisoner J.V trying to escape, but he is quickly recaptured and taken to the cell, which is next to Pac and Mike. The three end up becoming friends, and later, while staying overnight, they meet Cell (Cellbit), another prisoner (so called by the cell phone he carries) with many contacts, who offers them money and protection. It is noted however, that J.V distrusts Cell due to his dangerous and violent ways.

Pac, Mike and J.V start making their prison break plan; they intended to use a pickaxe stolen by Pac and Mike in the mining area, swapping it for a plastic one made by J.V, and escaping through the toilet pipe. Unknowingly for them, Cell overheard everything that was said and tells Pac and Mike not to trust J.V. It turns out that Cell then sends the police officer Felps to search the cell of the two for the pickaxe, but he does not find it. Cell then confronts them, saying that he wants to run too; Pac, Mike and J.V reluctantly agree.

They set the escape date for the next day, but on the same day, J.V, who was in solitary confinement, escapes, and makes a hole in Pac and Mike's cell, with the intention of starting the escape before and thus avoiding Cell. When J.V tries to plug the hole he made, Cell surprises him, stabs him and, after getting them to show him the location, betrays Pac and Mike, fleeing alone in the minecarts (later it would be seen that Cell was caught by the guards). At J.V's funeral, Mike finds a letter, where Jv says he suspects Cell, and tells them to look for his companion Guaxinim (Racoon), a very sneaky prisoner. They speak with Raccoon, who agrees to join them. Pac, Mike and Raccoon go to Cell's solitary cell, but discover that he has already been released. They then decide to go to Cell's cell to steal his cell phone. Arriving there, they try to steal the cell phone, but Cell finds them. However, Raccoon discovers that the cell phone has no signal, and Cell threatens to kill them if they tell anyone.

Pac and Mike decide to use the money (given by Cell when they entered the prison) to pay a prison gang to scare Cell. However, the gang they paid off (Rayquaza) was actually Cell's own gang. Pac, Mike, and Raccoon decide to tell Guard Felps about Cell's cell phone not having a signal, but Cell kills Felps and steals his gun. Then there is a gang fight between Rayquaza and a rival Cell gang, and the other prisoners take the opportunity to make a rebellion. Pac, Mike and Raccoon take advantage of the situation to escape and Raccoon reveals that J.V took advantage of his escapes to build a raft for them to flee and would take Raccoon along in exchange for protection. They find the raft, but Cell (who overheard the three's conversation) surprises them, making them take him.

The four leave Alcatraz Island, but the raft that Jv designed starts to sink because it was only designed for three people. Pac, Mike, Raccoon and Cell then decide to stop on an island. Raccoon was an engineer, so he was assigned the role of repairing the raft and discovers that even if he fixes it, it will still only hold three people. With that, Cell, who has a gun, lets the 3 decide which of them will die. Raccoon later checks his gun and discovers that it only has one bullet — Raccoon then starts to repair the raft, but everyone is starving (except Cell who had gotten some apples from a tree and Raccoon), and Pac and Mike believe Cell would be feeding Raccoon just because he knows how to fix the raft. Suddenly, a police helicopter appears; the group manages to hide the raft in a nearby cave without being seen, and a short time later the helicopter leaves the island. Meanwhile, Cell manipulates Pac, Mike, and Raccoon into thinking they are betraying each other. Mike, who took Cell's knife, stabs Pac, but Raccoon appears and the situation is cleared up. With the three of them knowing this, they trick Cell into thinking that Pac and Raccoon wanted to sacrifice Mike. The three go to a cave to make the plan, but Cell discovers the lie and presses the button at the entrance to the cave, thinking of locking the three there, but the button locked Cell himself in a trap. Cell threatens to kill them with the gun, but Raccoon tells him to keep the bullet for himself. Pac, Mike, and Raccoon exit through a hole behind the cave, abandoning Cell. On the way to the raft, they hear a shot fired by Cell (it is not known if he committed suicide). Finally, Pac, Mike and Raccoon leave the island on the raft, making an impossible escape

#qsmp #qsmp cellbit #qsmp tazercraft #qsmpblr #qsmp translations #fuga impossível #q!cellbit #q!pac #q!mikethelink #mine

[raccoonfallsharder]

future projects.

back to the main masterlist

below you can find the stuff i am working on, in order of (hopeful) release date. i have a lot of simultaneous projects so these will be coming out slowly over the coming months. thank you for bearing with me ♡♡ you are shinier than a lilac bush full of fireflies and more precious than pocket-sized pegasuses.

i am hoping to be done with current works on the following timeline: windfall 𖤣𖥧𖡼⚘.˚⭑ ~ june/july 2024 florescence ❀ ~ august/september 2024 cicatrix .⋆☁︎ :･꧂~ october 2024

may-june 2024

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip. angst, comfort, & fluff | rocket & wanda | multipart headcanon | word count: 1,370. for @hibatasblog During a watch party for Avengers: Endgame on Twitter, Markus revealed the idea to team Wanda with the Guardian of the Galaxy captain actually made it into several versions of the film's script. "We had whole drafts with Wanda on a road trip with Rocket," Markus wrote, "but after the Vision plot in Infinity War, nothing we came up with was anything but wheel spinning for her character." CBR

june-july 2024

warm compress ☾.༊·˚⋆⭒ fluff | no use of y/n | gn reader | oneshot | word count: pending. you've taken care of rocket when he's been hurt in the past. when he comes to visit you and finds you tired, in pain, and less-than-receptive to company, he decides to return the favor. can be read platonically or romantically.

WARNINGS: reader is experiencing abdominal pain attributed to hormonal/ovulation cycle. reader cries at one point.

･:*𑁍✧˚₊ overheard on the bowie 18+ only MDNI | no use of y/n | f!reader | oneshot | word count: TBD. rocket laments building the bowie with such thin walls between bunks. ie, you haven’t been able to get off in a while, and your neighbor knows it. [preview]

july-august 2024

᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊°.⋆｡✶˖ evasive maneuvers ⌖˖✶｡⋆ expansion: practice (day 9) of °˖✧♡kinktober 2023 18+ only | no use of y/n | f!reader | ?? | word count: pending. providing more context and, uh, follow-up. title may change.

untitled Domestic Scenes in Space Travel finale. 18+ only MDNI | no use of y/n | f!reader | length pending | word count: pending. The Nineteenth & Twentieth Visits. Series Finale. based on Guardians of the Galaxy (2019).

love is blind: andromeda 18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 5 parts | word count: pending. rocket has broken out of twenty-three prisons. this one will be no different. slow burn + probable smut with feelings. mcu/comic medley (kinda au?)

september 2024

⭑.⋆๋࣭✪ hot local dads in your spaceport ✪⋆๋࣭ ⭑ undecided rating | no use of y/n | undecided reader | ?? | word count: pending. born of this statement i made ages ago and think about daily: daydreaming about quitting my job and running away to outer space. i’d live in a city in a giant floating skull and i’d run a street-food stall for the neighborhood. i’d teach the local sentient tree how to play stardew valley, and just fucken recklessly hit on his hot dad every chance i got

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺☀︎ sunshine ☀︎ ⋆⁺☁︎⋆₊⊹ expansion: sunshine (day 15) of °˖✧♡kinktober 2023 18+ only | no use of y/n | f!reader | ?? | word count: pending. after what was intended to be a one night stand, rocket & sunshine reader navigate the awkward aftermath of being new crewmates. oops.

october 2024

★♫｡°𝄞☕︎✎▤ other duties as assigned▤✎☕︎ 𝄞°｡♫★ 18+ only | rocket x f!oc | ?? | word count: pending. natasha romanoff is an administrative nightmare - a fact that does not go unnoticed by the (interim) captain of the milano. First she demands that the remaining two guardians of the galaxy be reachable via a primitive terran messaging system, and then she can't be bothered to read the frickin' emails. thank fuck she's hired a new assistant. mcu-based, slight au, begins five months post-snap; rocket x oc email romance/LDR (lol); slow burn + probable smut with feelings.

#aspirations #rfh fanfic #future projects #guardians of the galaxy #rocket raccoon #rocket raccoon fanfiction #gotg fanfiction #gotg rocket #rocket raccoon x oc #rocket gotg #rocket raccoon x you #rfh masterlist

[mandalhoerian]

NO TIME TO DIE | leon kennedy x oc | 1

pairing: leon s. kennedy x oc word count: 6K~ warnings: graphic descriptions of gore and violence, mentions of type-1 diabetes, negative thoughts, slight mention of suicide, its resident evil you get it chapter summary: A private investigator who digs graves instead of information almost gets shot in the head by a rookie cop who was ordered to stay away from the city, and somehow it's salvation. READ ON AO3 ! CH. 2 ☆ NO TIME TO DIE MASTERPOST

The last quarter of September in Raccoon City brought as a present the purifying smell of rain blessing the soil, Vera knew its name — petrichor, the kind neighbor lady Sarah Lakin who grew vegetables in her own apartment calls it as such, and Vera had no reason to doubt; her hands always smelled fresh and earthy with a permanent thin line of rich black soil underneath her nails, the taste of the dishes she brought over for monthly neighborhood get-togethers could be found absolutely nowhere else. All-organic is the name of the spell she said she cast as Vera was busy stuffing her mouth with peach cobbler, and her kind eyes sparkled with that magic she was talking about too. The eleven year old Vera was fascinated with the knowledge (and the peaches, before she had to be forced to take her insulin, that is). 

The last time she saw Sarah, the woman's fingers were coated with blood, her usual neatly trimmed nails torn and gnawed on — nauseating smell of long-forgotten meat in a broken freezer oozed from her instead of the green freshness,  her eyes milky and glazed over. All-organic products, in the end, did near to nothing for her flesh falling apart, unable to stick to her bones anymore. 

The irony of her being vegan was not lost on the girl. She’d returned from death with the same primal hunger for raw meat as the others. Deep past the horrors of the apocalypse and dead men walking, somewhere beyond the point of acceptance and apathy, it was morbidly wrong to see the woman’s own principles twisted like this as if it was hell’s own punishment itself. Vera grimly wondered where she was searching for a bite of human flesh right now. If she’s lucky, someone would have come along to put her out of her misery already. 

The poor bastards she is trying to bury in the middle of a downpour are fortunate in that sense, if she dared to look at it from a half-full glass sort of perspective, at least. Marvin told her to close her heart to it and not think about how she knew every single person in the police station she opens a grave for, so she was trying to.  

Unfortunately, she remembered. The names of all the poor souls she had to bury were etched into her soul.

Vera supposed she was desensitized to everything by now, the only scary truth remaining to her was how fast she ended up adapting to survive in such an extreme situation and lost her empathy in the process. Her body didn’t want to wail and cry anymore, so it had turned that part in her off completely, as easy as turning the lights off. She was on autopilot, (unfeeling, insensitive, a hole in her very being in the shape of a grave where her heart is supposed to beat), having accepted there’s not much she could do for anyone other than fulfill the final duty to their mortal remains. Handling the role of the gravedigger allowed more room for other officers to do their jobs, so she gladly had taken it. (To the bitter end.)

It’s haunting now that she felt absolutely nothing, it didn’t even seem real what she was doing right now. The man she all but had kicked in the hole, Jonathan Alberta, is a drunken father of two who regretted not being there emotionally for his children back in the day, she’d overheard when he was over at her old house with Marvin at dead of night one day, sobbing to his coworker about wanting to undo his mistakes, to undo how he treated them in the past. She had listened to him being such a proud dad about their achievements, his only humble complaint was wishing he’d been there in the commemorative photos, too, with big congratulatory bouquets in hand and their favorite chocolates (April loved Kit-Kat Senses, and Archie, Cadbury’s Fuse) in full cartons as the prologue to the presents he wanted to give them.. 

He had wandered off in delirium chasing his supposed children the last he was sane, despite the fever and the infected wound, nobody could stop him from going off on his own, an elephant straying off its herd to die quietly.  

When he came back, it had taken two bullets to the noggin to put him to rest. Around the time that happened, Vera hadn’t given up on running around the station in order to fix the comm equipment until the last moment, she wasn’t there to witness the carnage. It had broken her just the same, though. Marvin was of the same opinion it was for the better she didn’t see him that way. 

Sweet was how she remembered Jonathan. He gave Vera the best candies in moderate amounts just so she could at least have a taste, knowing she felt bad about not being able to eat to her heart’s content because of her diabetes — one out of ten times leading to an insulin shot afterwards but man was it worth it. He was the best door to trick or treat. Best customer for girl scout cookies, too. They say this was his way of coping since his wife used to lock the pantry to keep the children out so they didn’t eat unnecessarily and barely allowed them snacks, he kept a stash with him just in case but could never stand up to her, only left with searching for the lowest calorie alternatives so she wouldn’t throw a fit.  

To his very last moments as human, he had supplied the young survivors who’d taken refuge in the police station with sweets from his secret stash that not even members of the S.T.A.R.S. could find the location of in a traditional game they called The Heist. Jonathan's only objective during those moments was bringing out his fatherly side to cheer them up and keep the spirits high, he wasn't merely a police officer, he was a father to those who needed comfort.   

The sweetest man ever. He just wanted to survive to get back to his family and not live in regret until the day he died.  

Vera looked down at his covered body, hollow inside. The rot momentarily faded into a candied whiff, but it was blown over immediately. 

Don’t think. Thinking slows you down. Slow gets you killed.

She tuned out the distant sounds of metal rattled by the unending effort from the undead, it was white noise at this point, and gathered her focus. The most troublesome right now was how heavy the earth was, half-mud already. The shovel got stuck and didn’t move an inch. Her arms ached and burned from digging, she hadn't closed the grave even halfway yet. Bodies wrapped with white cloth and secured with ropes were waiting to receive proper respect post-mortem, littered around like toys around the west courtyard. It weighed on her chest that she couldn’t work faster and they had to lie around, alone and downtrodden in death. 

Vera slipped in the mud and almost fell to her knees. The fishnets would do nothing to protect her skin from getting cuts and they didn’t even know if this thing also spread from blood contact. Marvin’s voice in her head lectured her in that tone about how it was almost November and why weren’t her winter clothes out yet? 

She would have dressed more appropriately for the zombie apocalypse had she known this was coming, in her defense, no calendar for these kinds of significant days were released by the ye olde Umbrella. At least it was black jean shorts instead of skirts she liked so much to wear, and a baby pink turtleneck cold shoulder top. It could have been worse. They’d given her a black raincoat and a standard cotton blanket for the night to go along and that had been enough.

The chunky knee-high patent leather boots kept sinking in the mud the more it rained and they weren’t heeled, even with that Vera first and foremost had to struggle with her footing before having a go at shoveling. By far, this was the closest she came to crying because the damned soil just didn’t want to work with her—

Vera let out a frustrated yell and stabbed the shovel down, and at that very moment, the loud clang of the front gate being slammed crashed into the silence. Her clammy hand, sweaty or just wet from the rain, she didn’t know, closed around the stick of her shovel in dread, the short fingerless fishnet gloves were soaked all the way through either way and stuck to the cracked wood's splinters, she could swear her heart was going to beat out of her chest.

If by some blind luck the undead had barreled their way through, there was no barricade between the cemetery area and the entrance, Vera would have to slam them away with the shovel to run past and get to safety. No use in fighting them with the intention to kill, she couldn’t, anyway. Her mind was already calculating the scenarios as she stood still as a tree, ready to spring to action as soon as she decided on what course to take. 

The silhouette of a man strode forward from the gate toward the doors to the station; he didn’t stumble, no drag to his walk, only flighty panic. No other followed him in, so the only explanation was the guy shutting it behind him. 

Another survivor. Finally, a fucking a human. 

(An intrusive thought: Wonder how long until I bury this one too.)

Disgusted, she waved off the poisonous gas swirling above her head, took a couple steps forward and raised her hand to wave to him. “He—”

A loud bang echoed in the courtyard. 

Vera froze as if she were a paused recording, not understanding what had transpired for a couple seconds.  

Huh?

The fucker had shot at her. 

And thankfully, missed. 

A smooth and youthful voice rang out, it had a stifled tremble to it. “Stop, I’ll shoot!” 

What kind of bullshit—

“You already did, asshole!” She all but screamed, still spooked about almost getting gunned down, the stress and fear radiated from the sentence. 

There was a considerable amount of distance between them and the horrible guttural noises of the undead, but Vera did hear him say, “Oh my god,” to shakily and quietly, it'd left him in a weak whistle evaporating into the November cold, immediately after he started jogging to her in alarm. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I just thought you were — like them, I, I didn’t think. Shit, holy shit, are you okay? Please tell me I didn’t hurt you, fuck. Oh my god.” 

Surprisingly considerate of him after the shit he pulled. 

It was kinda funny hearing someone ramble while running. Especially because it happened right after she almost got shot. Her brain had to be fried, she actually started chuckling just as the man — young man, he sounded boyish— hit the brakes right in front of her with no reaction at all to the scenery, which she thought was because he didn’t quite pay attention to from the shock of nearly killing a civilian. 

But hell, it was someone living, breathing, alive. How wonderful it was to be talking to someone new, and that they weren’t alone, it wasn’t just her, Elliot and David and Marvin and oh, it got hope bubbling in her chest and warmth back into her limbs. This guy could play target with her anytime if it meant he stayed by their side, helped them get things moving, and stayed perfectly unharmed until the end. 

That got her genuinely grinning. To think she was just about to angry-cry a minute ago. “I’m good. No holes, no grazes. I’m still standing. Thank god your aim sucked ass, right?” Vera unlodged the shovel from the mud, making it fly a bit before catching it. “Think you scared this one out of its wits, though.” 

“You sure? It could be adrenaline talking.” In the dimly lit courtyard, she could barely see the details of him, but he was looking up and down at her, hands hovering over her arms, not sure if he could touch her or not. Polite, huh. “It’s too dark, I can’t see. How about we get inside and I take a good look at you?”

Vera agreed with the guy’s idea to go inside, she had to show him around — show what was left, it would be great to have another mind to join the brainstorming about how to get the hell out of here soon, so she walked ahead and he followed after her, it was oddly reminiscent of a puppy. “Believe me, I would have gone down immediately if that bullet nicked me slightly.”

Behind her, he cursed under his breath, stifled and angry. “I’m really sorry, those things out there, it was insane, and I thought—”

Vera snorted. “Don’t worry about it, I understand.” They finished climbing the steps to RPD’s door, and she stopped and turned to him with her fingers over the handle. “The next time you have to shoot me, though, don’t miss. For your own sake.”

In that moment, she could make out some of his features obscured by shadows, he had unbelievably pigmented blue eyes that had widened upon her implication — he looked just as he sounded, gentle. “I’m not— you’re not— I wouldn’t—”

“Relax,” Vera jokingly pretended to hit his chest, but her hand didn’t touch the guy at all. He deflated with a long exhale. “I wouldn’t do that to you, random guy. I’d take myself out first before turning into one of these.”

With that, he simultaneously choked as Vera opened the doors to the police station. The sooner he got used to it, the better. Vera had found humor in a time like this horrified and angered people, but it also eased them and calmed their nerves even though they tried to hide it behind offended responses. If she succeeded in making him feel a bit better, then it was a win for her.

“Jesus,” he sighed. “Don’t say things like that.”

“What, you’d rather I eat you?” Vera immediately ran over to the front desk to scrub the mud off her shiny boots, shook her raincoat off and draped it over the mahogany. Her trusty shovel leaned over the desk as well, it didn’t matter mud was dirtying the place, not anymore.  “You must like people being all over you. Naughty.”

He basically sputtered. “I do not—”

Either he spoke in chopped, unfinished sentences or it was Vera’s own tendency to cut people off in the middle of what they were saying.

She finally looked back to point at him and her breath got fished right out of her mouth the moment she saw him with all his glory bathed in golden light. Her finger waved at him. “Hm, didn’t expect that.” 

Dude was ethereal. How the hell did he have such defined and sharp features with a killer jawline, yet looked so youthful and soft? It was a sin that he was dressed for a trip to the church with these looks. His blond hair, parted from the side, looked it’d be so smooth to the touch, he had to be conditioning that, could say he was modeling for some agency and she would believe him — Vera hadn’t seen any man this pretty before. The couple zits on his face did no work in blemishing the beauty, it only meant that he was in his late teens or early twenties, he had that naïve aura to him.

It randomly dawned on her that he had made it from the fully infected city to the police station, on his own, with no injury nor scratches. He was just soaked from the rain, and a little bit disturbed was all — Vera remembered the shame of shaking like a leaf caught in a storm for hours after barely getting away with her life from one undead, screaming her voice off until Marvin got her out of there into RPD and just cried as the situation escalated from bad to all hell breaking loose. Everyone and their mothers were just the same, all things considered. What cloth was this guy cut from?

She couldn’t imagine him making his way through the literal apocalypse, too young, eyes too innocently clear and big, no frown or stress lines, he was simply squeaky clean. Men rougher than him hadn’t been able to make it, consumed by the hoard of the dead, and all this guy had was a single gun. Was he simply that fast? Too good at stress and panic management? Right off the bat he appeared benign and incompetent at anything related to violence, too cloud soft and golden dawn.  

“I don’t appreciate these kinds of jokes,” he said, getting her attention back. So he had taken what she said as a quip and not Vera being stunned at his looks. It was for the better, of course. The secondary surprise was being scolded by a guy she’d just met. “Nothing’s gonna happen to you, I’ll make sure of that. You’re safe with me, I’ll get you out of here.”

Hah, that sounded cheesy as hell. Thank you, I guess, random guy, not like the entire population turned into monsters or anything trying to do just that. 

“Well, aren’t you the hero Bonnie Tyler was looking for,” Vera gave him a half-hearted smile, slowly walked up to him under his observant, anxious gaze, and offered her hand. “Vera Kaplan, wish we could have met under better circumstances.”

“I have to agree with you there,” he nodded, giving her a firm handshake, his palm was surprisingly warm when he had just stepped off the cold weather outside. “I’m Leon—”

Vera had to gasp. “You’re Skennedy?” 

Leon blinked. “Who?”

She let go of his hand. “The rookie!” 

Vera had taken to calling him that after she was asked to assign him his personalized email and couldn’t understand what kind of surname Skennedy was supposed to be. Apparently the font in the file was too small and the blanks between the letters were minimized so much that she didn’t see the dot coming after the ‘S’. Marvin made fun of her endlessly after she made the mistake of asking him. Miss genius can’t read, he’d laughed, literally folded too, in fact. 

“Uh, it’s S. Kennedy, actually.” Ah great, he had a perfect smile, too. “How do you know me? You work here?”

“No, my dad. . .” 

The welcome sign they hung in the west office flashed in her mind, cheery and celebratory against the bloodbath underneath. Leon's now deceased co-workers had worked so hard to get it to stick and not fall off. Marvin’s excitement to have youngblood in the force crept up to the surface, spoken in passing conversation over lunch at Jackie’s, he had a particular pride that this new rookie was top of the graduates in his police academy and chose to ride over here instead of any big city — according to the report, he could have applied anywhere and would be welcome with open arms. Something about boys like him being eager to obey orders and so desperately wanting to prove themselves that they’d work extra hard, Marvin explained. It had to be the Arklay ‘murders’ that pulled him in, a moth to a flame. An unsolved mystery was a newly discovered undisturbed gemstone mines to people like him, Vera thought, and once upon a time, her as well.  

WELCOME LEON.

One hell of a welcome party, this was.

She cleared her throat. “He’s the lieutenant here, you’ll get introduced soon.” Vera paused, looking around. Marvin would have come over as soon as they entered but she hadn’t noticed the absence from being too occupied with Leon. “Speaking of which, where is he? He's been gone for a while...” 

It made her antsy when he disappeared without telling Vera where he was going. Her automatic action to that had transformed overtime into checking the security cameras to track him down, and that’s what she did now, circling the reception desk and hunching over the Toughbook to look over the tabs one by one, her heart picking up its pace. The undead and some abomination the other officers lost many of their own to were sensitive to noise, as they learned from painful consequences, it could be deadly to page him at any moment without making sure the precinct was safe first.

With Leon hovering over her shoulder and watching Vera expertly navigate the layout, instead, they found Elliot, running away from one undead, and her eyes followed the man while Leon sucked in a surprised breath. “We have to get him out of there.”

“Wait,” she whispered, it had no correlation to directly affecting Elliot’s situation, but it was out of reflex. “I’m looking for—”

“David! Marvin!” Elliot’s frantic, static-surrounded voice came through, he was looking directly at the security camera and showing them his notebook. “You there!? Vera was right! I found a way out! It’s in here! Send reinforcements! East Hallway!” 

“Shit, he did it?” Vera mumbled, all muscles locking in place at seeing the undead basically throwing himself over the officer. For one moment, there was nothing but the freezing thought he was bitten, but he managed to push it off and rain bullets on it before getting away, seemingly unscarred. 

“Hey,” Leon called to her, taking out a Heckler & Koch out of its holster carefully. “I gotta find that guy. You stay here and stay safe, alright?”

Fear jumped to her throat, but she pushed it down. Vera couldn’t handle facing the undead, partly because of the primal fight or flight instinct locking her down the place, she wasn’t equipped to control that part, and definitely not trained enough physically, just knowing the basics of handling a gun. The other part of the reason and what rendered her useless even with a gun was simply the fact they were people she knew — those souls being stuck in an eternal cage of diseased rot plagued her constantly, Vera couldn’t bear to hurt any of those innocents, she ran instead. She had to run. Cowardice was a disease. 

But at the same time, she couldn’t live with herself if Leon went by himself and got devoured too, Vera couldn't let him be fucking eaten alive and turn into one of those things, there was nobody else left, this was it. She had to suck it up for his sake, it was time she woman up already. “I could come with, you don’t know what’s waiting for you out there, better not stay separated.”

First flickers of stern determination flickered in him. “Absolutely not, I’m not putting a civilian in danger.”

Vera’s spine straightened in response to that, little hairs in the back of her neck standing up, and she looked him dead in the eye — she was a tall girl, and Leon was only two inches taller at best. If there was something she hated more than Umbrella in the world, it was authority, someone obnoxiously giving orders, trying to get her to do what they wanted. “What are you going to do if I tag along, arrest me, Officer?”

His expression soured, but professionalism took over. “You’re taking this the wrong way. I’m trying to protect you, I have to decide on what’s the best course of action here. If I can minimize the damage done, I will do so.”

“How am I taking it the wrong way? I’m not any safer here, and you don’t know shit about what went down in this hellhole. If you thought outside was bad, imagine what being locked up with these things is like, there is no escape, how are you going to watch your back on your own if you’re cornered? And trust me, you’re going to get cornered and overwhelmed. You’re not ready for this.” She emphasized the last sentence. “You need all the help you can get.”

“With all due respect, ma’am—”

Vera made a disgusted sound at the honorific. “Ah, c’mon—”

“You don’t know my capabilities and you certainly don’t know me.” He was not budging, stubborn for a man who looked as harmless as him. “I’ll be okay, my safety is not the concern here. What I’m responsible for, is you, and I cannot put you at risk. Let me do my job.”

Vera had fight in her still. “We have to stick together to survive, what job? There is no job anymore. No station to be a cop for—”

“We are wasting time here.”

“Because you’re being stubborn about it!”

“I’m also thinking about your father, did you not say he wasn’t here?”

Vera shut up at that, suddenly realizing that Marvin was still absent. 

“See?” Leon said, annoyingly not uptight at being right, but filled with concern, stupid sweet. “You have to wait for him here, if he comes back and you’re not here or just outside, he’ll go looking for you.”

That was an easy win, no arguing with that. “Fuck, fine,” Vera grumbled, “Take this then.” She opened the storage chest right next to the Toughbook’s stand and took out two walkie-talkies she’d been working out to minimize the output sound. “I’ll cover you from over here and tell you if anything’s coming your way.”

A small smile graced Leon’s lips, he inspected the walkie-talkie Vera put right in his palm, intrigued by the pink color, and looking over the buttons. “Alright, I can work with that.”

“Fasten it to your pocket here, it’ll get in the way of shooting.”

He nodded, getting into focus. It suited him, defined the sharper features better. “East hallway, right?”

“It’s right here,” Vera took him by the elbow, and showed him a route in the map of the first floor she opened, drawing a line with her finger over the monitor. “This is the east hallway, now I don’t remember which areas are locked because they had to shut the entire wing down, it was overrun by the undead at one point… I don’t know where he could be heading to but I’ll tell you if I see him. Until then, you just follow the hallway without getting distracted. And be fucking careful.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Leon got to moving with quick steps, rolling his shoulders in nervous anticipation.

Vera smirked. “It’s the other way.”

His steps stuttered as he made a sharp left, making a beeline at the shutter door with the “KEEP OUT” sign on it. 

She had to tease as he cranked the lever, standing behind him. His neck had gotten redder. “You sure you’ll be okay without me?”

“Positive,” Leon said, eyes fixated on how the door refused to open further and the glistening pool of blood smeared all over the floor. 

“I’m feeling bad about the snow white sneakers.”

Leon huffed, crawling inside from the small opening, voice strained with the effort and the repulsion of basically rolling over in semi-dried blood. “Be glad you’re not coming with me, then!”

“Don’t get blood on my walkie-talkies, I just made them!” She whisper-shouted at him, Leon was getting up, having finished his messy venture to the other side. Vera heard his low chuckle. “I’m going now, okay? I’ll be watching your back.”

His voice echoed. Nice acoustics, she mused. “I feel better already.” 

Vera basically ran over to the Toughbook, but her ears did pick up Leon saying, “You got this,” to himself. It was endearing as much as it was irritating, she could have escorted him. But Marvin. Goddamnit. 

Innocent assumption, she threw the mental ball in her head. No gunshots, no overactive shuffling, Marvin wasn’t discovered by the undead, he has to be around and safe, no movement in the cameras mean a good thing.

She watched Leon’s figure illuminated by his flashlight move ever-so-slowly and carefully on the screen, brows furrowed. Sinister assumption, they got him while she was digging outside and he’s collapsed somewhere in the station. 

She would have heard it. Marvin would have used his gun nonetheless. 

He was okay the last time they talked through the radio as she bitterly escorted the UBCS soldiers to the supposed Nathaniel Bard — he wasn’t there as she’d told the nicer guy, Carlos, and his buddy Tyrell had the audacity to mansplain to her the opposite as if she wouldn’t know about the poor people who took shelter here. The only thing holding Vera’s hostility at bay was Jill’s instincts on people and the rational part of her brain keeping it simple, Jill had decided to trust Carlos, so Vera dubbed him the clueless good guy in her head, she didn’t hold it against him that their intel had been clearly falsified. Marvin and she kept in contact after those guys left and she safely got back to the main hall, but by then, he wasn’t around, and the only decision to not marinate in her own acidic mind was to keep working on the graves in the front — the rest of it was history. 

The Marvin inside of her spoke out once more. Don’t think. Thinking slows you down. Slow gets you killed.

Leon finally decided to speak to her. “You see anything?” It had to be nerve wracking going through the gory remains of the slaughter alone, Vera just knew he wanted to speak instead of being submerged in his own frantic thoughts. This was why she insisted on going with him. Nobody could ever be ready for that. 

“Just dead bodies ahead, no strange movement. It’s fine, I got you.” 

The “Thank you,” came from the bottom of his heart. She couldn’t bear to tease him and flaunt the ‘I told you so’s when he sounded half-terrified, half-self-assured like that. Had he been less prettier and less adorable, her reactions would be different. There was something about Leon that spoke to her nurturing side, it was the legacy of her orphanage days, she assumed. 

Vera looked through the cameras once again. “No sign of Elliot. What hole did he crawl into?”

 Loud rustling, a clunk and a shaky breath. 

“I see that you’re in the press room. He’s not there.”

“I know, just looking for anything useful. No harm in being thorough.” Technically, not true. “And hey,” He made a disgruntled noise. “Just found bullets….”

On a dead body. 

To think this was Leon’s very first day as a cop. He had to be a different breed for keeping it together, no really, what was wrong with him? No special training existed in any police academy for any of this. Maybe, it was because of her. From the very limited time she knew him, it was clear that he was dutiful and earnest, Leon could have been trying to not lose his shit for Vera’s sake. Which was admirable in hindsight, he wasn’t a whole psychopath like Irons to be actually enjoying this. 

“Keep it moving,” she told him. “You don’t want to linger on what you see for too long. Don’t be too much in your head about it.”

“I can’t help it,” Leon appeared in the hallway’s feed again. “All of these poor people… They did nothing to deserve this fate.”

She scowled, her shoulders slouching. “I know.” Her tongue clicked against the back of her teeth. “Hey Leon, um, you might want to prepare yourself for what you’re about to see.”

He tensed. “Zombies?”

“No. A bloodbath.”

He must have already stumbled on it, Vera heard the hiccup of horror. “Jesus…”

The walkie-talkie picked up the sound of another person’s screaming. “—pen up! Hurry!” Vera put the device flush into her ear out of instinct despite the fact it’d do nothing. “—goddamn door!”

And he was out of her sight by disappearing into the watchman’s room, it was a blindspot. Vera impatiently began to fiddle with the keyboard. “Leon, what’s happening?”

He didn’t answer her, whomever he was talking to, the response was meant for them. “I’ll get you out!”

Her heart scrunched and thudded against her ribcage painfully. Please don’t be Marvin, hell, please don’t be him. It was horrible to think that, to be exposed about how she’d gladly let it be Elliot instead of her father. She had turned into a monster, and it was way worse than the man-eating undead kind. “Is it Elliot? Leon?” 

The skirmish continued as she stood there, eyes wide as saucers, only able to listen to the screams and left with her wild imagination to picture what could be happening. “—lease! Help me!”

It was Elliot. She hated that it relaxed her even the miniscule amount, bile raised from her empty stomach. 

Leon was agitated and unnerved. “Gimme your hand! I got you. Gimme your other hand!”

Vera leaned forward and put her elbows on the table, resting her face between her forearms in exhaustion and pulled on her hair from the roots. They were going to lose Elliot, too. “Shit.” 

The loudness of blood curdling cries turned all the noise into static and she couldn’t make out what Leon was saying, or doing. All feeling escaped her limbs, prickling needles of numbness quickly spreading through her body. Vera was of no use, practically listening to a man dying, and an innocent rookie who just got here witnessing this outright. 

The quiet afterwards sunk in, the calm before the storm hovering around the space between them, and false peace before a predator struck. The quality of sound was back, Leon sounded seconds away from vomiting. “Oh my god… Jesus Christ…”

Vera knew then that Elliot was gone. How was she going to explain this to Marvin? He was slipping from her fingers with each person she lost to the gaping blackhole of this disease, the shine of his eyes had went out the moment there weren't any civilians left to protect. Vera wished he'd blame her, be angry at her, anything to draw out some semblance of life in him and spark the hope that she would get him out of here for sure, out of spite to Umbrella if not some heroic, noble (lost) cause to protect and shield others. She was so afraid he'd just give up and let himself be taken away in grief. 

“Leon, are you okay?” She sniffled, rubbing at her dry, tired eyes. “I can’t see you.”

“I’m okay.” There was regret in that sentence, a resentment that he was okay. It didn’t settle well with Vera, but she understood where he was coming from. 

A loud noise boomed directly next to Vera’s ear, and she nearly flung the walkie-talkie away. 

“Shit!” 

Gunshots came from the right side of the building, Leon was raining impeccably planned bullets on something and it was controlled on his side, Vera had seen enough panicked and disoriented, frantic shooting from trained cops in the time she spent locked up in this station. There was no way this professionalism came from a rookie.  

She didn’t surmise if he was this much of an expert at how to handle these things, he’d also know that the noise was an invitation to every fucking undead sprawled around in the precinct, Vera had to warn him, she was looking at a lot of movement in the shadows, squinting at the screen and gripping the walkie-talkie like her last line of life. “Leon, get back here, immediately! The noise is drawing in all the undead around you. Don’t try to fight all of them, they’ll surround you like a forest fire, just run!”

“On it!” His labored breathing and the fast progress of the light coming from his flashlight told her he was booking it back to the main hall. “Jesus! They’re everywhere!”

“Don’t look, just go, go go go!” Adrenaline was kicking for her too, she ran towards the shutter, a rock from a slingshot, but at the last minute, darted towards her shovel and went back after getting it. “I see your light, you’re almost here!”

Thank fuck he stared crawling back in and she held his arm to pull him, but some other force stopped her efforts. An undead had latched onto Leon’s leg. He let out a yelp. “Come on! Goddammit!”

No, hell, no, Vera couldn’t afford to lose another person, it didn’t matter if they just met, she couldn’t see another human suffer an ending such as this! She pulled with all her might when out of nowhere, another hand joined her, and Leon was finally ripped away from the source. 

She stumbled backwards and in front of her was the reliable back of her father. Vera could physically melt in that moment from all the weight that was lifted from her shoulders. He was here. Unharmed. Smashing an undead’s skull with the shutter door like it was a walk in the park for him.

Vera closed her eyes and pressed the heel of her hands on her eyes to hide how much they were trembling, and slid down the wooden rails, stabilizing her breathing. 

“Got it!” Marvin said. “You’re safe…” His usual warning and foreboding voice now made Vera happy. “For now.”

“Thanks…”

“Marvin Branagh.”

“Leon Kennedy,” he panted, desperate and disturbed down to the core from whatever had gone down in the watchman’s room. Her heart was being squeezed. “There was another officer… I-I couldn‘t… I couldn’t…”

“I’m sure you did what you could, Leon,” Marvin said, tone wobbly, and Vera lowered her elbows to her knees, blinking a couple times to get back to her senses and calming her heart palpitations. “Don’t beat yourself up about things that aren’t in your control.”

Vera couldn’t stop herself from laughing in a self-deprecating manner, and was about to talk back.

About to. 

Before she saw the bloodied and battered up state her father was in. 

Vera swore she almost went into hypoglycemia from how her vision blacked out the moment her eyes landed on him. 

#leon kennedy x oc #leon s kennedy x oc #leon s. kennedy x oc #resident evil oc #oc: vera kaplan #story: gravedigger #era: no time to die #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy fanfic #shai's writings

[barakittens517]

PT. X: The End

Summary: In which the lost has, at long last, been found.

Words: 2,237

Warnings: n/a

Pairing: Morpheus x gender neutral reader

Notes: holy shit we finally made it :') massive shoutout to anyone that made it this far! hopefully i'll be posting a *refined* version of this on AO3 soon. mucho mucho love to all of you <3

Tag List: @ponyboys-sunsets @i-am-not-a-raccoon-anymore @memento-mora @freedomsofdream

The way back to the Dreaming is silent. Morpheus heads straight for the library, leaving you in the throne room alone. It’s quiet- too quiet. You wait a moment before sneaking in after him. The dream lord doesn’t notice as you duck behind one of the bookshelves, tiptoe-ing quietly towards Lucienne’s desk. 

This is the second time you’ve eavesdropped on Morpheus. You have a quiet moment of reflection for the fact that you have never overheard good news. 

No matter. Once you figure out how the hell to get back to the waking world, you’ll never have to worry about Morpheus or Lucienne or anyone ever again. 

“Ezra may have been a dead end,” Morpheus admits. “The Corinthian is gone, so what power would he have here?” 

Lucienne tilts her head towards his coat pockets. “My lord, he’s not entirely gone.” 

Morpheus pulls the tiny skull from his pocket, holding it at a distance like some scene from Shakespeare. “You cannot be serious.” 

Lucienne nods. “It is the last of him. If you destroy it, you’ll be destroying everything he had an influence on. Including them.” 

“Not all of them,” Morpheus corrects her. You had been taken from the Dreaming, unfinished. You shudder at the thought of being reduced back to what you were. At this rate, you’d be better off destroyed entirely. 

“I think you should speak with them first, my lord. Whatever choice you make will directly affect them, permanently.” 

“I think…”

You miss the rest of their conversation in favor of putting yourself as far from the dream lord as possible. To exist is one thing, but to make him choose between The Corinthian and you?

The answer is obvious. 

You know the dream lord is proud of his creations, and assume destroying The Corinthian was something akin to an unforgivable act. It had been hard enough, watching him crumble to dust in the auditorium. 

There was at least hope, with The Corinthian, that he could be made again- better, stronger, even kinder perhaps. 

But with you? You, with such a cruel joke of purpose, and you’d spent over a hundred years being quite the opposite of a perfect partner. What use is there in starting now? 

You follow the cobblestone path outside of the castle, walking as far as your feet will take you. You take the time to bargain with your conscience- dying is the best you could wish for. It will hurt, but it will be temporary. 

And Morpheus will be better off with someone new. A completely different blueprint, a brand-new dream that will never have known life as a weapon.  

Gods, what a nightmare. You had to give The Corinthian credit, if only a little. You never imagined your purpose being so world-changing. Say you had destroyed Dream of the Endless? What would have happened then? 

You’re so caught up in thought that you don’t even hear Morpheus calling after you. The city is far behind you, and looking down you find yourself standing in a field dotted with pink carnations. 

Fiddler’s Green. 

“Ellis!” Morpheus calls again, and he’s next to you in an instant. “What are you doing out here?” 

“Getting one last good view in, I guess.” 

Morpheus sighs. “It does not have to be the last.” 

“It does. It does, ‘cause I’ll be damned if I make you pick between me and him,” you snap. “It’s not fair.” 

You sit with a huff down in the carnations, folding your knees to your chest. Another magnificent sun is setting over the hills again. 

Morpheus quietly sits next to you, watching as you pluck the nearest carnations to bits. 

After a few minutes, you stop and sit still. “Can I see the book again?” you ask. 

Morpheus pulls the hardcover book from his coat and hands it over. You leaf through the pages once more, looking for your rough draft.

You had hoped to see what you were meant to become- one last look before the end. And there you are, unfinished. The lilies in the column still make your stomach turn. 

Morpheus watches you carefully, quietly. The sunset has cast a rose-gold hue onto everything, and he’s struck by how beautiful you look. His own creation. 

The moment is ruined by the sound of tearing paper. You’re careful to avoid ripping out the other pages, but it isn’t right to have your failed existence in a book of proud accomplishments. 

“There,” you say, handing the book back to Morpheus. He’s speechless. “Now you can start over, right?” 

You’re overwhelmed by a sense of freedom, and of the end. This is it for you, and you should be allowed such an act of bravery. 

“Ellis, that’s not-”

“Start over,” you interrupt. “I’m serious. Make somebody perfect from the start. And maybe don’t leave ‘em unfinished for too long.” 

It’s a joke, but it still stings. If Morpheus had never left, who's to say you wouldn’t have had the perfect life? 

The skull in Morpheus’ pocket feels like it’s burning a hole through his coat. There is so much he wants to say, and so little a chance that you would even listen. You’ve already made up your mind. 

He pulls the trinket out anyways, watching your jaw drop in recognition. Frustrated, you play it off like another joke. “You could even make him your partner.” 

“I want you.” 

The words hang in the air between you, tinged with an endless yearning. Your heart flutters at the thought of what might have been. 

“I can’t stay like this,” you say quietly. 

“Then don’t,” Morpheus replies. His grip tightens on the skull, and a large crack appears to split above the jaw. 

You reach for his arm, panicking when he squeezes even harder. “Dream, cut it out. You’re scaring me.” 

“I do not mean to scare you. This is not a difficult choice for me, Ellis.”

“And what, I don’t get a say in it?”

“You do not have to stay here. But at least let me do this for you.”

“Okay,” you say quietly, releasing your grip on his arm. You sit in silence for a moment, preparing yourself for the worst. “Will it hurt?” you ask. 

He looks at the last piece of the Corinthian for a moment, and the dozens of pressure cracks spider-webbing around the cranium. Before he can answer, you reach for his hand again. 

“I don’t care.” 

You squeeze as hard as you can, and within moments the little skull is crushed to bits of sand. For a moment, nothing happens. You can hear Morpheus holding his breath, waiting. Hoping. Praying, even. 

A faint tingling sensation, like pins and needles, begins prickling up your arms. You look down to see the bones of your forearm revealed, the skin of your hands wisped away to skeletal fingers. Without a mirror, you can only assume the rest of your visage has been reduced to what it was before Ezra Lillin came into your life. 

Empty eye sockets. Flesh stretched taut over your skull. Your left arm is missing in its entirety. For once, you’re afraid to look at the dream lord- not because of what you can do, but because of what you are. 

“Ellis,” you hear him breathe out, finally. 

“Hi.” You’re embarrassed, shockingly, to return to your previous form. You refuse to look away from your hands, refuse to finally meet the eye of the dream lord. 

Morpheus is speechless. Seeing you now is like a hundred years had never passed. Here you are, his soulmate, exactly as he had left you. The rare view of a second chance.

The silence is deafening, for a moment. Morpheus breaks it with a simple question, one you had never once considered. 

“What would you like to be?” he asks. 

Yours, I want to be yours, please- “What am I supposed to be?” your voice is foreign once again, raspy and new. 

Morpheus motions to the shreds of paper in front of you. “I would not know. I never… never got any farther than that,” he answers. 

“That’s okay.” You’re quick to reassure him. “I… I don’t mind. Will it bother you? If I look the same?” 

You could almost swear you hear him breathe a sigh of relief at the thought. “Not at all.” 

He takes the sand from his coat pocket and carefully pours it into his hands, working quickly to form the missing pieces. A sweet breeze floats through Fiddler’s Green, and the sand blows with it, materializing the flesh that covers your bones. You watch in amazement, and within moments you’re almost complete. 

Just missing the eyes. 

“The most important part,” Morpheus comments, and for a moment you’re drawn back to Ezra’s shop, to the Corinthian. He had said the exact same sentiment, albeit for wildly different reasons. 

The dream lord looks around for a moment before picking two morning glories from the path from the field. Carefully, he holds the flowers out to you.

“What do you think?” he asks. 

“Are they going to be purple?” you ask. 

Morpheus laughs, the sound ringing in your ears. “Would you prefer a different color?” 

You shake your head. Internally, you’re ecstatic. “No, they’re perfect.” 

Morpheus nods. He pinches the rest of the sand into the center of the two blooms, balancing them carefully in one palm. “Alright,” he says, “Tilt your head back.” 

You lean back on both arms, looking up to the sunrise setting over Fiddler’s Green. “Like this?” you ask, looking over slightly. 

Morpheus nods, brushing the loose strands of hair away from your face. “Just like that,” he repeats quietly. 

Gently, he places the flowers on each of your empty eye sockets. You would be irritated by the feeling if you weren’t so focused on the dream lord being so close to you. You’re certain he hears the breath hitch in your throat as he leans over. 

He places a hand over your eyes, and for a moment, the world goes black. You’re briefly struck with the thought of something going wrong. 

“I c-can’t see,” you stutter, panicking, and Morpheus takes his hand away, reaching for yours. He gives it a reassuring squeeze.

Still black. 

“Ellis,” you hear him say with a laugh, “You have to open your eyes.”

You turn to him, eyes closed. “That’s it?” you ask incredulously. 

“That’s it.”

You reach for both of his hands, holding them in front of you. His palms are warm and rough. 

“Are you looking at me?” you ask. 

“Ellis,” he says, “Look at me.”

And you do. 

His irises are whirlpools of inky black, dotted with the same galaxies you’ve seen in the night sky of the Dreaming. You still get lost in them, but for once there are no flashes of sin, of regret, or despair. 

Just the god of dreams, looking back at you so lovingly that without a second thought you lean forward, crashing your lips against his. He reaches gently to cup your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. 

You’re struck with the overwhelming sensation that this is where you are meant to be. You tug his collar to pull him closer, wishing it never had to end.

After a moment, he pulls away slowly, both of you breathless. The nervous butterflies in your stomach are going absolutely haywire, and you can’t help smiling like an idiot. Morpheus has an almost identical look, and if Fiddler’s Green could speak, he would tell you both how absolutely, dumbfoundingly lovestruck you look.

He settles for cultivating the red and yellow daisies that bloom in a small patch between you and the dream lord.   

“Would you like to see them?” Morpheus asks, fabricating a small pocket mirror out of thin air. 

You nod. He clicks the mirror open and hands it to you, watching as you take a deep breath to steel yourself from visibly reacting. 

The morning glories have transformed into deep violet irises, with flecks of a lighter lavender. The edges are ringed in a pale gray. You watch yourself tear up at the sight, at how beautiful they are. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly, closing the mirror as a tear spills down your cheek. Morpheus hesitates for only a moment before brushing it away gently with his thumb. 

“Anything,” he answers, just as quiet, “for you.” 

You’re overcome with a flood of emotion, an outpouring of love and gratitude and fucking relief.

You’re not a weapon anymore. 

You won’t hurt anyone, not even Morpheus. 

Especially Morpheus. 

You wrap your arms around his neck in an embrace, almost falling into his lap when he sits back. You settle in sideways, your head tucked into his chest. He keeps an arm around your waist, his chin resting on the top of your head.

“You are welcome to return to the waking world,” he offers quietly. “Although you will always have a place here, with me.”

You ponder for a moment, what it would be like to have a normal life on the planet. For over a century, it had been the only thing you had wished for, more than anything. 

But you know now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, this is where you belong. Where you have always belonged, close enough to hear your soulmate’s heartbeat. 

“What if I want to stay?” you ask. 

Morpheus pulls you even closer, pressing his lips gently to the top of your head.

“Then stay.”

<3

#morpheus #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #dream x gn!reader #the corinthian #netflix sandman

[silverghcst]

❝ leave it alone. you are out of your depth. ❞  

Prompt - @iknowwhataradiois

The cracks within Raccoon City were already beginning to appear, paper thin and yet sharp all the same. A looming threat hanging above the clouds, threatening to thunder and shatter the glass. Everyone had just about cleared out for the night, Leon one of the only exceptions, finishing up some last minute reports before running to deliver them to the chief. Except, the chief was preoccupied, voices carrying down the stairwell he had been climbing. Heated shouts bounced off of wood walls and high vaulted ceilings. Umbrella, the Arklay Mountains, suspension, wrapped up in neat little bows, tying a question to each end.  

Firm intent to sweep all of it under the rug, to never have the public hear a word of it. Take time off. It sends his mind reeling. Leon, even with his brand new badge and uniform, the rookie in training, had his eyes rudely opened to how amiss the police station had become. There’s the slam of a door, hurried steps clicking against marble, and he sees her, one of the S.T.A.R.S officers, Jill Valentine.  

He had to be fast to catch up to her, even faster to explain himself, only to be told to stay out of it. He was out of his depth. And she was right, with only having a week of experience to his name. A wolf in sheep’s clothing was implied to lurk within the herd. Appearing more as a shepherd, as the guiding light for the city, the cure for the disease. If what he overheard was the truth, how could he ever hope to fight against that?  

But it just wasn’t in him to leave it alone.

“I can’t do that. I’m not going to just walk away and pretend I didn’t hear anything,” Staying firm, not backing down from the clear warning, from an officer who knew more than him, “I didn’t mean to pry, but I heard enough of your conversation with the chief. If you could even call it that. It... Struck me the wrong way, of how dismissive he was of your case.” 

There was more to this story, something much bigger than the both of them waiting to strike from the shadows. Eyes dart around the near empty station, suddenly all too aware of anyone who could be listening, as his voice lowers considerably for her ears alone. 

“I want to know what the hell is going on around here, why he shut you down like that, why the incident in the Arklay Mountains is being buried.” 

“I just... I just want to help.” 

#iknowwhataradiois #へ ノ ( answered ) #(sorry this got so long!) #(no need to match length ^^') #(also let me know if I have to change anything!)

[bnhxx]

A little something that’s been kept up in my drafts for wayy too long now! I this post on @hex-touchstarved and I was like, this!! I’m running with this one and then promptly lost all motivation to continue it nnsdjkfjkf

Character: Leon S Kennedy (Resident Evil, Dead by Daylight)

Ship: Leon S Kennedy x Reader

Genre: Suggestive themes, but not too spicy!! 18+, minors DNI

Warnings: Not too much about from the suggestive themes, a bit of humiliation? It goes both ways tho 😳

Something was wrong. Most of the time, this would hardly come as a surprise; you were stuck in an endless torture realm. But today your fear wasn't placed in the next killer you were facing off in trials.

It was the way you woke up from your....less than pure dream with a certain raccoon city police rookie, only to a hear rustling that was far too noisy for the occasional crow. The type of rustling that you hear right before a fellow survivor crawls over to help you finish a gen. To help you heal from your dying state in a precarious position... Someone was there? You let out a groan as you tried to push the thought to the back of your mind-surely you weren't too loud, were you? God, imagine if you'd called his name out loud.... Best to clean up and find the survivor yourself before your thoughts continued to make that blush on your face deepen.

You peeled out from the makeshift camp area over to the dim light of the fire. You were betting that if anyone heard you, which you were definitely sure by now that someone did, their reaction would say a lot if you locked eyes with them in particular. Jesus, you really couldn’t catch a break here, could you?

As your eyes scanned to faces around the campfire, you recognised a couple of missing faces-Ace, David, Nea and Yui were missing from the group- the next trial must have happened right after the last.

Jake also wasn't present-God, does that mean it was Jake who overheard your little dream? No, that wouldn’t make sense. Jake is silent as a mouse crawling around the forest. If he did overhear you, you'd probably never hear anything from it again from him-but the thought of his disappointed glances made you slink back into yourself a bit.

"Oh, there you are! We were just sharing tips by the fire while you were gone," Kate's voice called you from your investigation.

You took a seat in between Kate and Claudette. Claudette offered you a kind smile, and nodded to the conversation at the fire.

"That new pair Leon and Jill just got back from their trial a while back," Your back stiffened at the mention of Leon's name. Again, your eyes glazed over the survivors frantically- a few gave you a nod, most were busy sharing tips to notice you, and Leon, the man who had all but occupied your dreams last night-

Leon was smirking at you.

You inwardly cursed at your luck. They said Leon had just returned, maybe....No, they returned a while ago. The only reason you'd left the campsite to go to your tent and take care of some...stress management was because you knew the man that had been the cause of your sexual frustration was in trial. You must have fell asleep some time after, and then.... Good God, it really was Leon who caught you, wasn’t it? And if his smug ass face was anything to go by, he didn’t mind it one bit. 

"Everything alright there? Leon went to check and see if you had gone far, but you were just asleep," Claudette's soft voice pulled you from your frantic thoughts, and you managed to compose yourself and turn to give the healer a smile.

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm still waking up from that good dream, I guess," You turned to look to Leon directly as you said it, raising an eyebrow when his cheeks reddened and he averted your intense gaze. Claudette, sensing the tension between you and the rookie, offered you a nervous chuckle. You turned back to her and continued to speak to clear the awkward tension that had settled between the three of you.

"I suppose it was about time I woke up, though. How did the last trial go?" Relieved, Claudette gave a soft sigh. Having caught on to Claudettes discomfort, Kate began to fill you in on the last trial.

Maybe you should be more embarrassed about this, but...if only Leon didn't react the way he did, maybe your reactions would've been different. So the rookie wants to dish it but can't take it? Such a blushing schoolboy. It made you want to see how much of your teasing he’d stand. He’d have a good idea of it depending on how long he was listening into your frisky little dream.

Well. Maybe making him keep his mouth shut wouldn't be so much of a hassle for you after all. A familiar voiced perked up from Leon's side of the campfire.

"Actually, maybe now that your here you can teach Leon that handy perk of yours," Jill was, in fact, walking up to your little group at this moment, said rookie in tow. He looked a bit like a puppy being told off behind her, now that you think about it.

You nodded to them both. If Jill was giving you an opportunity to talk out your mortifying experience out with Leon, you were ready. Hell, maybe you didn't even have to be worried about it. He was biting his lip now, but straightened himself with a cool expression as you caught his gaze again. Good. You’d managed to brush your embarrassment off well enough to face him, you think. You weren't harming anyone with a simple dream- it was his fault for deciding to be a peeping tom.

"Sure thing!" Jill smiled, and brought you closer to pat your back. As she did, she whispered just loud enough for you to hear.

"He's been bugging me about you since we got here, you know," You blinked as you pulled back, and Jill took your seat. Oh? This was news. You held back a satisfied smirk, and cleared your throat. You turned to meet Leon's wry smile.

"Lets get going, yeah? I'll need some space to demonstrate this one," He nods his face still slightly flushed, and gestures for you to take the lead.

You can still feel Jill's smug grin burning into your back even as the two of you moved away from the chatter of the campfire.

------

"You're a quick learner, Leon," he gives a sheepish smile, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders.

"What can I say? I have a damn fine teacher," You chuckle, at as your laughter slowly dies down there is an inexplicable weight in the forest. Leon clears his throat, and when you look back at him he's wearing that same smirk he wore at the campfire. He takes a step closer to you, and you feel your spine straighten. You have to stop yourself from taking a step back.

"You know, it's inappropriate to be having those kinds of dreams about your students. Calling their name out like that...you might have to give me some extra classes if that’s how your planning these lessons out," You let out an audible breath to silence the curses your dying to let out. God, you even called out his name?! Suddenly the patterns embedded into your shoes look a whole lot more interesting.

A part of you kind of still hoped it wasn't him who caught you uttering his name in the heat of your dream, that it was just some noisy bird rustling around near your tent. You couldn't help but blush- he'd at least had the dignity to call you out alone. He’d taken this moment of boldness to walk up closer to your figure- when you looked back up, he was right in front of you. His eyes held a light mirth, and that shit eating grin was plastered so pretty on his face- you kind of wanted to kiss him right then and there, embarrassment aside- surely that would shut him up-

"I can keep a secret, y'know. For a price,"

Ooh, he's been such a tease, acting all cocky and daring to make you feel uncomfortable for having a wet dream about him. Who did he think you were, some horny flustered teenager?

No. You were owning up to it, here and now. Playing on this whole fawn act was getting boring quick. With a raised eyebrow and sly grin, you closed the distance between the two of you. You let out a triumphant hum as you heard his breath hitch. Gently, you guided his chin closer to your lips and kissed him. He let out a yelp, but kissed you back so eagerly it was like he was the one who'd been fantasizing about this in his dreams.

You parted with him and he frowned at the innocent smile you gave him in return. You snaked your hands up to his hair, giving it a soft tug as Leon relented with a groan. Gently craning his neck to the side, you kissed his skin gently at his neck.

"This wasn't quite what I had in-oh!" You bit down, gently sucking on his neck. The complaint must’ve died on Leon's tongue, because all that was left was the cute, soft whimpers you’d heard in your dreams. Much better. A hickey ought to shut him up for now. After kissing the now reddened mark on his neck, you pulled back with a grin.

"Its what I had in mind. In fact-why don't we skip to those-extra classes-and I show you exactly what we did in my dream? Since I know-you're more than just a voyeur," You suggested in between kisses.

"Uh-yeah!- I-I mean, yeah, sure..." He managed to stammer out in between your kisses to his chin, neck, collarbones. So cute.

If the flustered blush and soft whines were anything to go by, you'd say you did a pretty good job of shutting him up.

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #is this fluff? im calling it suggestive uehehe #dom this man!!! im still salty over the original re:2 leon kahsjsbshs #wOmEn #forever ingrained into my brain 🥲 #i accept the remake as canon leon and hes a bottom bc i say so 😤 #but he would ACT like he knows what hes doing #he doesn't #re:2 #re2 #re2 leon #re2 leon x reader #also jill coming in clutch as a wingwoman #dbd leon #dbd #dead by daylight x reader #dbd leon x reader

[ladyantiheroine]

“Golden retriever bf and black cat gf”

Their names are Leon Kennedy and Ada Wong. Learn some manners.

#overheard in raccoon city #aeon #golden retriever bf #black cat gf #leon x ada #ada x leon #ada wong #leon kennedy #resident evil

[tg-headcanons]

Ghoul Culture Headcanons

It’s common for ghouls to be more “aggressive” in heavily populated cities, but that’s just a natural result of territorial people close together. In smaller towns that are less overrun by doves, supportive groups like anteiku are more common

Most ghouls keep pets, when everyone you know can die any day, having a friend that the CCG has no reason to kill is nice. There’s the usual ones like cats and dogs, but since they hunt in alleys and backroads so often, plenty bring home raccoons and possums they found in the trash. It’s a free friend!

In the privacy of their homes, it’s perfectly acceptable to have their kagune out to help with simple tasks or just relax.

When ghouls are young, it’s normal for them to play games involving their kagune to teach them better control. Rinkaku and bikaku kids would try grabbing things with them, ukaku and koukaku kids would try to dribble balls with them, everyone has some fond childhood memory of these games.

Couples will sometimes get matching or complimentary masks

Different nations have slightly different subspecies of ghouls, and because of this, the cultures around them are effected. Plenty of legends and folktales are due to a few rare bioluminescent ones or oddly shaped kakuja. Mothman? That’s just Brian messing with the locals.

Speaking of kakuja, everyone has strong opinions on them, but most are simply afraid. They will be avoided out of fear since they’re seen as a threat by others, and most Ghouls will avoid cannibalism when starving for fear of being ostracized as well

Each RC type has stereotypes. Ukaku are known as quick and pretentious, koukaku are known as strong but stupid, rinkaku are known as energetic but promiscuous, and bikaku are known as being hardworking but rude. Everyone knows these stereotypes but has no idea where they came from

There are several more instincts besides the violent ones, more often then not, just plain weird. One of these is the wish for an enclosed space that feels safe, so any ghoul dwelling has one. For some it’s a pillow filled closet, for others it’s a small table with a blanket over it, and for some it’s just a cardboard box. They’re like cats that way, they’re also like cats in the sense that they will hiss at anyone who approaches their safe space.

When a ghoul cares about a human, they will scent mark them by rubbing their neck against them. This is a sort of dibs, and hunting a human that’s been marked is a huge dick move. Even territorial ghouls won’t hunt their enemy’s marked human

Ghouls will pick up shiny things, they just gotta. Bottle cap on the ground? Fuck yeah taking that home. Corpse has a polished pocket knife on it? This day has gone from good to great! Everyone’s house has a spot where they hoard their shiny garbage

Most grow up learning sign language, almost every ghoul knows it because it’s so useful for communicating without being overheard

Due to their status as apex predators, what would be considered ADHD in humans is normal in ghouls. They evolved to be hyper vigilant and good at taking in as much stimuli as possible as quickly as possible. They tend to befriend neurodivergent humans more easily than neurotypical ones since they can bond over the little idiosyncrasies that effect them both

Kakuhou are erogonous zones, and because of this it’s seen as risqué to have them uncovered in public

Coffee shops have historically been a gathering place, anteiku is one of many. When a ghoul arrives in a new place, it’s good to know if any of these shops are around

Adoption and mixed families are common, since the CCG and other ghouls are constantly killing spouses and parents before their children are old enough to care for themselves, it’s understood that whatever family that kid ends up in, that’s their family now. In the eyes of any ghoul that sees them, Hinami and Kaneki are normal siblings. Who DOESN’T have a few siblings from dead parents?

#tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul headcanons #kaneki #ken kaneki #hinami fueguchi #worldbuilding

[chika-the-terrible]

1. He can breathe fire

Chris Redfield was not a big party guy. He would go to shindigs and such if it was like an office party or something, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. Claire knew this very well, yet she continued to invite him to Sherry’s party, as she had every year. And since it was Sherry, Chris didn’t mind as much. That still didn’t make him a party-loving extrovert, though. He kept to himself much of the time as the party went on, only ever stepping out of the shadows to greet other guests or give hugs. Sherry in particular loved his hugs, comparing him to a teddy bear. It never failed to make Chris blush. The only person that Chris didn’t mind spending time with at these parties, however, was Leon.

Like him, Leon didn’t enjoy being around a lot of people. He was a loner and kept to himself. He never snuck away from the party, really, but stuck to the shadows, keeping an eye on things when you didn’t even realize he was there. But mostly he always kept a close watch on his daughter. Chris knew from Claire what had gone down in Raccoon City, how she and Leon were incredibly close to Sherry after the event. Chris also knew that, shortly after, Leon and Sherry were sucked into some kind of government thing, preventing them from saying much about what they were doing these days. At least they still kept and touch and were able to host parties like this.

Chris perked up when he heard Claire call for everyone to gather. It was almost time for the candles to be lit. But the cake wasn’t on the table. It had been there a second ago. He glanced around curiously, soon catching sight of Leon with the cake and heading into the house.

“What’s Leon doing?” he asked, sliding up to Claire. The woman shrugged.

“We can’t find any matches. Leon’s gone to look for some. Probably wanted to make an entrance for Sherry, too.” That made sense.

“I think I’ve got my lighter on me.” said Chris, “I’ll go save him some trouble.” He moved away. He followed Leon’s path inside. The kitchen was on the other side of the house from the backyard and so Chris had to wind his way through the halls to reach Leon. He paused, however, as he came closer. There was no sound of Leon opening drawers to look for matches or even the sound of a match scraping or lighting. In fact, Leon seemed to be coughing. Chris knew that it was probably nothing but he couldn’t help just peeking around the corner. After all the stuff he’d been through, it was a natural response.

“This is harder than I remember...” Leon murmured. The cake was sitting on the island in the middle of the kitchen and he was standing above it, hands resting on the sides of the piece of furniture. He was leaning over the cake, appearing to be coughing on it? Leon shook himself, eyes sliding closed. He then began to hold his breath. Chris frowned. What was Leon doing? A blush began to creep up Leon’s neck, such as if he had been embarrassed, but something wasn’t right. Then smoke began to curl out of the other man’s nostrils. He opened his eyes and blew on the cake. Instead of a breath of air, a wisp of fire exited his mouth. It passed over the candles and they quickly caught, lighting up the cake. Leon smiled.

Chris froze. What had just happened? Was Leon--he didn’t even want to imagine this--a B.O.W.? And no one realized it? But it couldn’t be. For one thing, no B.O.W. Chris knew of could breathe fire. And certainly none he had encountered still had their mind in tact. Yet this could be a whole new thing. Chris’s window of thinking, though, was growing shorter, seeing as Leon was grabbing the cake and moving back towards the garden. And Chris was in the way. He ducked into a side room as quietly as possible and peeked through a crack in the door. Leon passed by, looking completely normal. The flush and smoke were both gone and he even had a smile on his face.

Chris didn’t leave the room until he was sure Leon had exited into the garden. Should he say anything about this? From the few words he’d overheard, apparently Leon was used to breathing fire. What could that mean? It made Leon even more of an enigma than before! Chris rubbed his face. For now, just this once, he’d let it go. However, he would make sure to keep an eye on the other man from now on. Even if Leon wasn’t a B.O.W., these abilities were serious business. And Chris was determined to get to the bottom of it in any way possible, because he knew Leon wouldn’t want to answer the truth if he knew someone else knew about this little ‘trick’ of his.

Chris moved towards the garden and heard the Birthday song being sung. He joined in as he slipped back into the garden. No need to make Leon suspicious. He briefly wondered if the cake would be infected because Leon was blowing on it but then decided not to make a move. Leon knew what was going on with himself. If he was afraid he would spread whatever he had, he wouldn’t have been near anyone. So, for now, Chris had to trust that Leon knew what he was doing.

Oh, this was gonna end well.

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

What started this idea

#dragonborn au #au #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #writing #my post #not posted #chris redfield #pre-RE5 #5 + 1 things

[rainythefox]

Nightfall (CH.16)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1, slight-AU/Canon Divergence. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her  brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of  cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling  upon dark secrets. She can’t call the law; Wesker is the law, and she  can’t tell Chris. She is trapped…Claire/Wesker & Slight Chris/Jill (There’s Wesker & William Bromance too lol). Rated M for smut, language, violence, adult content.

AO3 Link

Chapter 16: Mine

Warning: this chapter contains lots of smut. You’ve been warned, okay? Okay! :P Because of this, only the first section of the chapter is available on Tumblr. Please follow the link to AO3 to read the rest. Thank you! :)

Okay, she knew her luck had taken a big dump recently, but this was ridiculous! If she thought the university job was difficult, she promptly changed her mind. That was a walk in the park compared to this. Claire stared at all the people. The exquisite party was happening at the ritzy Orient Restaurant on the second floor of the most luxurious hotel in the city, Central Hotel.

There had to be close to a hundred people here! The whole restaurant was closed to cater for the invitation-only event. Why did she even assume this “Christmas Party” was going to be just a group of rich, old dudes bragging all night? With how her luck has been, she should've known better!

Claire gaped at the man beside her who was unfortunately the closest thing she had to a friend at the moment. She recalled William’s little “briefing” on the drive over here.

“The party’s not gonna be that big. Just a simple “get in, get out”. You’ll be home in no time! Actually, you’ll probably be at Al’s home in no time!”

He was still rubbing his arm where she decked him.

“This is nothing like how you explained it!” she hissed.

But the mad scientist only half-heard her, his eyes lit up as though he was a kid about to enter his very first amusement park. Something in here was on his kill list because Claire overheard he wasn’t a stranger to parties, at least not to parties like this that could get him something he wanted. 

William was actually quite handsome all cleaned up in his suit. Claire had grown accustomed to his usual disheveled appearance that made him attractive in his own way.

He grinned slyly. “Oh relax, sweetheart. You’ll be fine. Most of these people are total bores…losers just out trying to feel important. They got nothing on you!” He winked at her. “You know what to do, who to find. Ada’s on your earpiece and Al and I are here to watch your back. Don’t worry. Al _definitely _won’t let you out of his sight. Just…don’t distract him too much. I need him focused tonight.”

“Are you fu-”

“Erica!” William nearly squealed, waving both arms and abruptly abandoning her. “Is that gown designed by Broca’s aphasia? Because I’m speechless!” 

Claire glared at the fickle bastard as he ditched her to join some other people standing around talking and drinking. She was on her own for now.

“Forget about him, Claire. Just focus on getting to Bennett. Best not drag this out longer than we have to and risk exposing ourselves,” Ada said on her earpiece.

“Okay,” she mumbled, and got into character, her natural Redfield bravado and assurance making it easy to stroll through the party like she owned the place.

It was a beautiful Asian restaurant. Most of the dark tables were accented with candles and glasses. The lounge-like chairs were colorful and comfy, and the tall ceilings gave way to soft LED string lights, oriental paintings and sectioned lattices. In warmer seasons, the same kind of setup could be seen on the massive balcony, but it was currently closed off.

She felt many eyes on her as she started her objective. But she only cared about one set of eyes as she discreetly scanned the place for them.

This many people here was both a blessing and a curse for her mission, and it could go either way real quick at any time. More people meant no room for mistakes, too many eyes. But on the other hand, this many people distracted amongst themselves could make it easy to get away with nearly anything.

Claire soon found the eyes she had been seeking, felt the familiar, pleasing burn on her skin they always caused. She traced them to an area with more people, where a grand, gold statue of Lord Yama sat. Directly in front of the god of death, Wesker was encircled by a small group, mostly beautiful women, and he charmed them effortlessly.

The younger Redfield had to keep herself from staring, also charmed by his chameleon smile, good looks, and striking black suit. Her nerves tingled from simmering blood. She couldn’t believe it. She was actually jealous?! Claire was angry with herself. How could she possibly feel anything of the sort over the man that was blackmailing her?

Besides...she knew Wesker well enough by now to know that it was all pretense. She was sickened and enthralled by how easily he could deceive and influence people. Ada was right. His calculating mind, his clever tongue, those were his deadliest weapons; not his hands, not his gun.

The statue of Yama was simply a backdrop to the true god of death in the room. His admirers probably had no clue and listened intently. The women batted their eyes, pushed out their chests, even the ones who had dates. And those men did nothing about it, perhaps too enthralled themselves or maybe it was the fact that Wesker had an uncanny ability to make most men around him submissive.

He may have looked like he was paying attention to them, his eyes concealed behind black shades, but Claire knew he was watching her. All of her. Every breath, every step, he was in complete tune. Something about that lit a fire in her belly so fierce, she trembled.

The jealousy she felt instantly crumbled. It didn’t matter if those women were rich or prettier or dressed in nicer dresses. They meant nothing to him. Not like she did.

And why was that, exactly?

Claire frowned, faltering mid-step, eyes still locked on Wesker across the room when she should've been moving on. She had some suspicions, if her gut and Ada and William were anything to go by. 

More importantly, why do you care?

“Claire?! Earth to Claire, hello?”

“Huh?”

“You aren’t exactly being inconspicuous staying in one spot drooling over Albert.”

Claire’s face flushed and she briskly walked away with a huff. “I’m not drooling!”

The first place she needed to check for her target would be the bar. Typical. It was in the back of the restaurant, low-lit, a massive, semi-circled bar with a marble countertop up against an airbrushed wall depicting a dragon floating through the clouds.

“Whatever you say, hun.”

Claire bit her tongue, taking a deep breath. “I was just happy to see him chatting up other women. Less problems for me.”

Ada sighed. “Claire, fishing is beneath you. First, they aren’t his type. More importantly, Albert detests easy women.”

That wasn’t her intention. “I wasn’t-”

“Unfortunately and fortunately for you, you are his type and are as difficult as they come. I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but you’re as close to obsession as he’s going to get romantically.”

The only fortune she could come up with was that it was unlikely Wesker would kill her. But obsession through people with sociopathic and psychopathic tendencies like Wesker were never a good thing. Her life might be spared at the end of all this...but at what cost?

Claire briskly pushed that thought aside, something cold and heavy dropping in the pit of her stomach. She needed to focus on finding Bennett and getting this over with. That was her excuse. After all, she wasn’t ready to acknowledge that her own growing infatuation would likely veer her into her captor’s arms for good.

She looked around the bar area. There were all kinds of high-status people attending Bard’s Christmas party. Doctors, politicians, city officials, even Mayor Warren and Chief Irons were here.

She recognized Mueller from Raccoon University having a casual conversation with the man that had to be her target. A picture was never granted, but a detailed description allowed her to quickly analyze him. It had to be him. Tall, average build, auburn hair and an anchor beard. He chatted with Mueller with a drink in his hand.

Just as Claire stepped their way, a strong grip snatched her wrist. She was spun around, coming face-to-face with Nathaniel Bard. He looked fine since the anaphylaxis she put him through with the shrimp, but the creep wasn't happy one bit with her, still keeping a painful grip on her arm.

"I knew I'd see your face again, girl. What happened at the university is all your fault."

Claire glared at him. "You're gonna be hurting more if you don't let me go right now."

The music and all the guests chatting around them helped conceal her threat from eavesdropping ears but the Spencer Memorial doctor heard her clearly.

He considered challenging her, lips pursing, but soon let her go after his eyes scanned the numerous faces within the party. "I know you're working with those two bastards. You have no idea how much harm you’ve caused me and several of my colleagues. Lowery was a good man, understand? He had a family. And now I’m trapped doing those two psychos’ bidding.”

“Maybe you aren’t the only one who is trapped.”

“Well then there’s more to your pretty face, isn’t there? They wouldn’t risk it otherwise.”

Who the fuck did this guy think he was? Claire clenched a fist, as it took all of her willpower not to break his damn nose. She had a job to do here. If she caused a scene in the middle of this party, especially with the man hosting it, then she could kiss her freedom and potentially Chris’s life goodbye.

She did let him in on what he was narrowly missing out on by grabbing his hand and twisting it slightly, squeezing hard on a pressure point. Just enough to make it really hurt, just enough to get her point across while looking like she was just holding his hand to nearly everyone else. “If my life didn’t hinge on fulfilling this job, you’d be on the floor with a broken fucking face, do you understand me?”

“Damn, Claire. I like your style,” Ada chimed in.

The younger Redfield ignored her and smiled, showing the guests they were having a pleasant conversation. Bard hissed in pain, quickly nodding. Claire released him and he jerked his hand away, shaking it off with a grimace.

“Listen, I’ll make the job easy for you. Just...do what you need to do and get out of here. Take those assholes with you. And never show your face at one of my social events ever again.”

“I’d love to, but it’s not my call. But...I have a feeling you know exactly who you can talk to about that.”

Bard scowled, rubbing his injured hand. He muttered something under his breath and motioned her to follow him, heading towards Bennett and Mueller in the back of the bar. “C’mon, and follow my lead.”

“Ugh, he better not screw this up.”

Bard put on a welcoming smile once they reached Mueller and Bennett’s table. Mueller recognized her, but didn’t say anything. She barely got a moment’s glare from him before he flashed Bard a guarded look, as if asking “what are you up to now?” The two men stood and the doctor shook their hands.

“Mr. Bennett! I trust you are enjoying the party? What kind of host would I be if I was neglecting my honored guest?”

He looked to be in his thirties maybe. His smile was warm as he nodded. He noticed Claire nearly right away, and there was a definite reaction of some kind. Attraction, she guessed, immediate infatuation. Great…

“Oh yes,” he said in a European accent. “I am grateful to you and Greg’s hospitality. You’ve made being so far from home much more bearable.”

“Good, good! It’s a shame your business partner couldn’t join us this evening. But I’m sure he had his reasons. You two are busy men, after all!”

Bennett nodded, composed yet amiable. “That we are. I’m sorry, but I have to ask, who is this beautiful young lady you have with you?”

Bard didn’t skip a beat in his front, presenting her with a grin like she was a piece of treasure up for auction.

“I know, stunning right? This is Elza. She’s one of my...assistants.”

The European man held out his hand with a handsome, friendly smile. It could’ve fooled anyone, and it almost fooled her. But her gut constricted at the last moment, her first indication something wasn’t right about this guy.

He took her hand and kissed it softly. “It is my utmost pleasure, Miss Elza. I’m Stephan Bennett. Please, just call me Stephan.”

Claire put on the sweetest smile she could muster, batting her lashes. “The pleasure’s all mine, Stephan.”

He looked her over, and although he was an attractive man, it made her skin crawl.

“Has Greg taken you up to your suite yet?” Bard asked cordially. “I’ve left you a little treat as a thank you for choosing to stay the night in Raccoon City’s famous Central Hotel!” 

Bennett ripped his eyes from Claire and shook his head at the host. “No, sir. I got the keycard to the room earlier, but wanted to check out the party before retreating for the night.” He presented a friendly, almost sheepish smile. “Honestly, I’m still a little messed up with the time zone changes. I didn’t think it would affect me this much.”

“That’s not a problem. My assistant and I will escort you up there. There’s a little bit of business I’d like to discuss with you anyway,” Bard replied.

“What about your party?”

“Eh, they’ll entertain themselves! Greg will take care of things while I’m gone. It won’t be but a few minutes.” Bennett glanced at Claire, expression unreadable, and Bard quickly added. “My assistant is completely trustworthy, don’t worry. She knows about our research.”

Bennett nodded, relieved. “Alright, lead the way, Nathaniel.”

Claire was uncertain what to do as Mueller shook hands with Bennett and bid them good night before heading for the bar. Her job was to stick a bug on the European businessman, probably so Wesker and William could track him straight to Aaron Roth. Leaving the party just tossed her whole plan into the garbage. This just got way riskier.

Nothing like winging a mission where my life’s literally at stake. What’s the worst that can happen?

“Great,” Ada whispered in her ear, not helping Claire’s gut feeling. “Wesker’s watching and listening through your piece. He says it’s fine. Just get that bug on Bennett without him knowing.”

Was that supposed to make her feel better that Wesker said it was fine? And how exactly was he able to do that anyway? That just made her earlier conversation with Ada a lot more awkward...

With a slight tick of her jaw, Claire composed herself with a friendly smile and followed the two men out of the restaurant and into the fancy, historical hotel.

They went to the lobby, a grand room with high ceilings, bright lights, and expensive carpet and decor. The elevator ride to the fifth floor seemed extra crowded, even though there were just three of them. Bard and Bennett chatted normally about their lives and careers. Claire didn’t like the frequent glances Bennett gave her. She waited for an opportunity, stayed vigilant with that inkling sprouting in her gut.

It got worse when Ada told her she lost visual on her from their location.

Wesker’s making you do this alone because he wants to see how you do, said a small voice in the back of her head. She didn’t have proof, but she wouldn’t put it past him.

She gave vague answers when Bennett asked her something, either curious and flirting or digging and deceiving. She wasn’t exactly sure.

Bennett scanned his card and held the door open to the big, two-bedroom suite. Bard strolled right on in but Claire hesitated, not wanting to put her back to these men. When she did, she felt his eyes all over her, and when he closed the door, he purposely brushed her to get by.

They stepped into the spacious living room first, accented with a bar and impressive kitchen. There was a home theater set up in the den, opposite a wall of glass that displayed downtown Raccoon City. Dark buildings silhouetted within soft glows of lights of all colors. Speckles of white rained down softly outside.

“You meant it when you said this suite had a view,” Bennett stated, drawn to the panorama.

Bard gave her a look, dipped his head in the direction of his “guest”, as if urging her to get her business done. Claire glared at him as he turned off to the bar instead.

“Yes, I did! And over here, something just for you, Mr. Bennett. Your favorite wine. All the way from home!”

“I don’t like this. Are you okay? Cough if you are.”

“How thoughtful of you, Dr. Bard. Thank you. You’ve gone out of your way to make me feel at home here.”

Claire didn’t like it either. She looked around, keeping up her appearance as she joined the men at the bar. She didn’t see any danger, but something like it was lurking about. Whatever it was, she was fine for now.

She coughed. “Oh, excuse me.”

Bennett watched her more than Bard, but she still couldn’t read his expression. Bard took the fancy bottle out of the container of ice. “Shall we have a glass while we talk?”

“Yes. I’d like that.”

That clicked an idea in her brain. Claire put a hand on Bard’s arm, mustering up the realest fake friendly smile she could handle, looking between the two men under thick lashes. “How about you gentlemen take a seat, get comfortable? Let me serve you.”

Bennett’s smile held something darker, but it was gone in a flash. Bard looked at her funny, but composed himself and slowly put the wine down on the counter. “Of course, Elza! You’re always the sweetest thing! Come, Stephan, over here.”

“What do you have planned, exactly?” Ada asked. “Ugh, I hate going by sound alone.”

Her cohorts had lied to her, she realized. William promised Wesker wouldn’t let her out of his sight and Ada said she would watch over her. Wesker didn’t say much to her before the party, but disclosed if she did what she was told, she would be fine. She was alone here and certainly felt something other than “fine” was coming her way.

The doctor and his guest went to the lounge chairs nearby, sitting across from each other. It was the perfect way for Claire to bug Bennett without him knowing. She opened the white wine and poured their glasses, giving them time to get settled in their seats and start talking. The more distracted they were, the better. It also gave her a moment to get the tiny tracking device ready.

The younger Redfield served Bennett first. She caressed her fingers up his arm, across his shoulder, stopped at the back of his neck, squeezing his collar gently. Her flirtatious smile was enough to distract him from Bard when she handed him his drink. She didn’t remain long, crossing to Bard and giving him his drink with the same smile, the same caress that made her skin crawl. She left them and returned to the bar, gathering up the wine bottle and ice bucket and placing them on the table in between the two men.

Claire eavesdropped on their conversation, but a lot of it made no sense to her. Big research, Sheena and Rockfort Island, Roth, Ashfords, prototypes, T-series. All similar topics that Wesker and William discussed and were involved with.

“You know, it’s strange how all of our business associates keep coming up dead or missing since we’ve been in town,” Bennett said after a long sip of his wine.

Bard grew quiet, confused, his fingers clenching around his wine glass. “What…do you mean?”

The European man looked at Claire, like he knew all of her secrets, not near as charming now. “You know what happened to them...don’t you, Miss Walker? Or should I call you Miss Redfield?”

Claire stiffened, nails digging into the chair arms. She dared not blink, glaring at him, keeping calm, but reeling underneath on how to react. He knew her name. Her _real _name.

Shit!

“Shit!” Ada echoed in her ear. “Claire, don’t do anything rash. Hang in there.”

It wasn’t as though she had much of a choice. She was on her own. Bard’s alarmed face told her everything. He was just as surprised as her, but would be too much of a coward to help her.

Claire took a deep breath. “I don’t know what happened to them.”

“I think Dr. Lowery would say otherwise.”

“How do you know my real name?”

The European businessman crossed one leg casually, swishing the wine in his glass, sharp eyes on her. “All it took was a little digging. You really shouldn’t use your mother’s maiden name as an alias, darling. Especially one as unique as hers.”

Cold steel bumped the back of her head. A gun.

Wesker had told her the same thing. Warned her.

She was careless to use it after not being prepared at the university. Now she was in real danger. The other wolves that Wesker claimed he was protecting her from had stalked her right into a corner. Then again, maybe he wasn’t expecting _this _pack. Or maybe he had and was ready to give her up as tribute for his own motives…

“Uh, Stephan, what’s going on, is t-this necessary?” Bard asked.

“Quiet, or you’ll have one to your head also.” Bennett motioned for Claire to stand. “My business partner, Aaron, would like to speak to you one-on-one, Miss Redfield. You have the time, right? You can help fill the gaps on what’s been happening to our dealings. We’re getting warm, but it seems as though everyone is too afraid to give us answers. Whoever you’re working for, we’ll cut you a nice deal if you expose them.”

Claire kept his gaze, defiant, silent. She had no choice but to comply. She had no weapons on her, no way to hide one in this dress. She slowly moved her hands down to her sides, preparing to push herself up, and felt it. The cold, metal coil of a corkscrew. She forgot she had brought it with her while serving the drinks.

Snatching it up between her fingers, she stood. The man who had the gun to her head pulled her out away from the chair. Bennett rose from his seat, finishing his drink and setting the empty glass down.

Bard shot up as well, looking between Claire and his guest, panicking. “Wh-What are you doing?”

There were two other men in suits now. They must’ve been hiding in the suite this whole time. Although they didn’t have weapons drawn, they were probably packing like the one behind her.

“Nathaniel, lying to me that she is your assistant? After what happened to Simon, I’m shocked. Someone’s got you cowering and afraid, just like Greg. Just like our friend the Police Chief.”

“I-It’s n-not what you think.”

Bennett nodded to the other men. They grabbed Bard by the arms, containing him. The European man pulled a gun equipped with a silencer from his suit jacket.

The doctor fought his captors. “Wait! No!”

Claire stabbed the man behind her in the groin with the corkscrew. He cried out as she spun, disarming him and shoving him away where he tumbled to the floor. She grabbed the bottle of wine and threw it at Bennett’s head just as he switched his gun on her. The bottle shattered on his face.

She didn’t get far with running. Not in that dress, not in those heels, before she was snatched by his men. A bash above her temple instantly made the world spin. Still, she fought, as weak as she suddenly felt.

Bennett was soaked, his face earning a few gashes from broken glass, blood mixing with golden-colored wine. He cursed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He grabbed her neck, squeezing hard.

“You little bitch! You’re lucky Aaron wants to speak with you, or you’d be dead!”

That’s when his arm snapped. Like a twig. He screamed. Claire, her vision still hazy from the blow to her head, realized he was attacked. His men were attacked; she was let go. A few blinks and she saw Wesker using some sort of martial arts to swiftly dispose of them. Not Bennett though. He raced away to his escape while holding his limp arm that flopped uselessly as he ran.

The STARS Captain had killed the other three. In seconds. With his hands. He paused, looking to the door where Bennett had fled, as if deciding whether to pursue him. He was over it in seconds though, grabbing her and pulling her to him. Not as rough as she had expected, but gentle wasn’t really in his nature.

“Hold still,” he commanded. She felt his hand on her head. He must’ve been examining the clout she had received. “Are you alright?”

There was some blood on his hand when he withdrew it, and she felt it trickling in her hair. It must’ve been just a small cut, otherwise it would’ve been all over her face by now.

“Yeah,” she said. And she was. It had only made her light-headed for a minute or so.

The nearby chair squeaked as it scooted on the carpet, and a muffled curse came from the other side. Wesker finally looked away from her, jaw clenching. He marched over to the furniture and kicked it. The chair crashed and skidded several feet away. Wesker seized Bard by the collar and picked him up, slamming him into the nearby bar counter. The sound his body made hitting the granite countertop made her flinch, and Bard’s yelp confirmed it.

“Wesker, wait, please! I d-didn’t know! I didn’t! I swear! He was gonna kill me too!”

“He was,” Claire confirmed. 

She had no idea why she defended the asshole, especially when he didn’t offer her any help before. But she could tell he was telling the truth. Wesker paused, but didn’t look at her, probably contemplating what to do with the doctor as he shuddered in his hands.

“Consider your...contract extended indefinitely,” Wesker growled, and shoved him over the other side of the bar. He put a couple fingers up to his ear, the same hidden piece she had. “Ada, William, we’re finished here. Ada, track Bennett. William, tell Irons he has a mess to clean up with Bard and Mueller.”

Bard got to his feet, shaken, his surprised eyes finding hers. The younger Redfield glared at him, a silent message he understood. She had spared him a cruel fate from the Devil. But she wouldn’t do it again.

She returned her gaze to the three bodies around her feet. The one she stabbed with the corkscrew had a snapped neck. The other two looked as though they had suddenly dropped dead, nothing to attribute to the hands of the STARS Captain. But she had seen it with her own eyes. And although it shouldn’t have, it lit a fierce fire in her lower belly, spreading when his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her towards the door.

The flames were fanned when he whispered in her ear, his hand squeezing her hip. “You did exceptionally well, dear heart. You make me proud.”

When Ada told her Wesker would want to take her home after seeing her in her dress, she had denied wanting him to, denied she wanted to go home with him willingly. But after what she saw, how he held her close to him like she was his, and his alone, how his breath upon her ear titillated her, made her receptive to him only, she could no longer deny it.

Claire wouldn’t be able to stand the drive there. She wanted him. Wanted him to take her. She was a liar; it wasn’t just a one-time fling or a mistake. It was going to happen again. And she wanted it to, and would do nothing to stop it.

#resident evil #resident evil 2 #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fanfic #clairexwesker #claire x wesker #Claire Redfield #Albert Wesker #chris x jill #ChrisxJill #Chris Redfield #Jill Valentine #William Birkin #sherry birkin #Annette Birkin #Ada Wong #fanfiction #fanfic #AO3 fanfic

[rpd-rookie]

Under Her Extra-Large Umbrella - Chris Redfield x Reader (Part 2)

Summary: Chris Redfield’s deception is coming to an end in this second part of the story but not in the way he expected.

Author’s note: This fanfic was supposed to be 2 chapters long, but considering all the things I originally wrote in this second chapter, I chose to cut it in two and write a third chapter to develop the story a bit more . Hope you will like it anyway.

Part 1 is available here / Fanfiction also available on AO3 

Warnings: Angst, Romance, Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Language. 

Wet hair, forehead covered in pearls of sweat, Chris was gazing at you, panting and exhausted, his hot uneven breath tickling your face when you nudged his rear with your ankles to keep him inside of you, still feeling his cock in your core throbbing like crazy after the powerful orgasm he had just experienced. “Damn, woman. Are you trying to kill me?” He breathed out and you giggled “What? Have you lost your stamina?” “No, but I’m afraid you dried me. I’ve got nothing left.” You laughed, finding his naughty words more ridiculous than funny. “I think you’ll have to wait till tonight for round 3.” He pecked your nose and pulled out of you to get off the bed, majestic body glistening in sweat. “I’m gonna go get a shower.”                   “And I’m going to try and find my clothes.” You looked at the mess around you. Both yours and Chris’ clothes were scattered everywhere in his bedroom. A perfect picture of how wild and hot this afternoon alone together had been.                 “Good luck with that.” Chris humoured as he left the room, completely naked. Guess that was a good thing your roommate was not here this afternoon.

You got up, draped in his bed sheet, your body sore and still very hot and sticky. Chris had asked you if you were trying to kill him. Well, as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you wondered if he wasn’t the one who wanted you were trying to kill you judging by the your dishevelled hair and the swarm of dark hickeys he had left all over your chest and collar bones. Oh, he would hear about this!

You started gathering your clothes and Chris’, picking them up one by one onto the floor and the furniture. “Damn, where are my panties?” You cursed as you scanned the room but they were nowhere to be seen. So, you looked for them in the pile of clothes then under the blanket, actually unable to remember what Chris had done with them. Maybe under the bed.     You knelt and peaked under the mattress. There was nothing as well, except a lot of dust and bits of fluff that immediately tickled your nose.                   But as you kept looking under the bed, something weird caught your attention.         There was a sort of red cord hanging in between two slats of the bed base. It made you frown because it strangely looked like the cord of your Umbrella access badge. But it couldn’t be that. You had lost that badge weeks ago, probably in the Metropolitain. Its presence here, especially under Chris’ mattress was simply impossible and completely illogical. And yet, you pulled on the cord anyway.

What a horrible surprise when you saw the card fall onto the floor and realised it was indeed your old badge. How had it gotten here? You didn’t know what to think. But you couldn’t help but hear the same question repeating itself in your head. Why Chris? Why?

The badge in your hands, you sat on the bed, lost in sudden paranoid thoughts that were so unlike you. What if Chris was a spy? What if he was working for Tricell or the Connections? After all, those guys had been trying to compete with Umbrella for years. What if he worked for the Government? What if …         So many ‘what if’ and yet one single common denominator. Chris had betrayed you.

You didn’t know how to process all the emotions you were feeling right now. Burning anger. Frozen shock. Both mixed with a awful sorrow that didn’t seem to want to escape in the form of tears just yet, not as long as you were trying to deny all the conclusions you had drawn and convince yourself that you were imagining things. There was certainly another explanation.

You stood up and started walking in circles in the room like a lion in a cage, whispering to yourself. “Calm down, Y/N. Calm down.” But you couldn’t. And despite all the energy you were using to control your breathing right now, there was that raging uncontrollable panic inside of you growing bigger by the minute.  “Alright, if he’s truly spying on you. There must be something else here. There has to be. Think.” You opened Chris’ wardrobe and started rummaging in it. You sighed, relieved, when you found nothing in it except some dirty clothes that definitely needed some good washing. But it wasn’t enough to soothe your mind and so you pulled the drawer of his nightstand open and immediately threw the contents to the floor. A pen, a watch, cigarettes, condoms and an unsealed letter that you immediately grabbed. “S.T.A.R.S. Office – Raccoon City Police Department.” You read on the envelope and your clever brain immediately made the connection between that address and the incident with the American branch of Umbrella you had overheard at the lab weeks ago. But it was still very blurry to you.

You opened the enveloped without an ounce of hesitation or remorse and started reading.

                                                    “To my amazing S.T.A.R.S. buds,

                 What’s up in the station? Still surviving those long days without me? Barry, are you still crying?                  Me? I’ve been very busy. Spent many nights getting to know my umbrella girl better. Apparently she has some huge project for the both of us. I’m wondering what it can be. She’s so secretive. But no woman can resist Chris Redfield. You know me, I’m worse than a parasite.                    Jill, any news from Claire? ”

You barely knew Chris. But the Chris in that letter wasn’t the one you had spent your days with for the last seven weeks or so. This letter certainly had a hidden meaning and judging by the word ‘umbrella’, ‘project’ and ‘parasite’, it wasn’t very subtle.                 You gritted your teeth, anger slowly getting the better of you, and crumpled the letter in your hand.

“What are you doing?” Chris’ sudden trembling voice made you jumped. You turned around, still kneeled among his stuff, and immediately glared at him. He was standing in the doorframe, wearing only a pair of green sweatpants. His face was pale and you could read a certain fear in his usually very cheerful and relaxed features. “Y/N?” You got back on your feet and approached him, the letter and your badge in the same hand. Chris froze when he noticed them and his heart skipped in beat.                

You didn’t say a word – an ominous calm before the storm – and went too stand before him to look at him in his scared brown eyes. A couple of seconds passed in which you mind struggled to find out what to do right now, not really knowing how to react.   You finally let your impulse get the upper and suddenly, your hand burned Chris’ cheek with a huge slap. You had never hit anyone in your entire life. That was not who you were. But the storm was here and you couldn’t control it.   You violently slammed both items against Chris’ broad naked chest and started screaming and hitting him, lashing out all your anger at him like a fury. “How could you?! You son of a bitch!”     Chris barely flinched and took all your hits in silence, knowing that he deserved them, that he deserved all your rage right now. They didn’t hurt but your wrath against him did. “Answer me!” He could feel a knot strangling his throat. He couldn’t talk. He didn’t know what to say, afraid to make things worse. “Answer me, you asshole!” You yelled and he finally caught your wrists in an attempt to calm you down and prevent you from getting physically hurt. “Y/N, please.” He whispered, holding you still.             “Why?” You asked, huge tears rolling over your face. “Why?” You repeated, begging for an answer, for an explanation. But all you got was silence and guilty miserable eyes. “Are you a spy?”          

“ No … No I’m not a spy. Not exactly.” He finally managed to say. “I’m a cop.” You frowned, finding things always too blurry to understand the situation. “I work at the Raccoon City Police Department, S.T.A.R.S. unit.”     “So you’re not Air Force?” He shook his head. “And you’re definitely not on vacation.” You fell the floor crumble under your feet, afraid of the extent of Chris’ lies and terrified of the consequences that were to come. “I’m on a mission, a personal mission.” He confessed with a broken voice. He didn’t look so strong anymore.             “What mission?”                   “How about we get dressed and sit down to talk about it calmly?” He offered. But you didn’t care you were naked under this sheet right now. And you didn’t care Chris was only wearing sweatpants. You wanted your answers. And you wanted them now. “No. Talk to me now. Explain it to me. Explain the fucking reason why you used me and betrayed me.”

Chris briefly closed his eyes. Hearing those words coming from you were hard to bear even if he had been repeating them over and over in his head since the day he met you. They were hard to bear because hearing them from you was making him realise what he really had been doing all along. They were the painful truth that had finally come to hit him hard in the face.

He tried to catch your hands in his but you removed them as soon as you felt the warm palms against your skin. You didn’t want his affection right now. It repulsed you. “In July, my unit and I were sent on a mission in the Arklay Mountains to rescue the members of the S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team who had gone missing while investigating a series of killings in the mountains. As soon as we landed, creatures attacked us and we took refuge in a mansion but that was just the beginning of the nightmare. My unit was entirely decimated by zombie-like creatures and other atrocities, monsters that had been created by the Umbrella Corporation thanks to what their scientists called the T-Virus.”             You froze. You had heard of the T-virus. You were using it in most of your experiments related to the Nemesis Project. Its existence was top secret. So if Chris knew, then …       “The surviving members of my team and I infiltrated Umbrella’s laboratory to collect evidence. That’s how we realised that Umbrella had failed to contain their virus and that it had escaped the facility, contaminating and killing locals that had been in contact with it. Only four of us came back.” Chris’ voice was so full of emotions. Sadness, grief, anger, guilt. It tied your stomach in a painful knot. “When we told our story to our chief, he refused to believe us. Somehow we understood he was probably corrupted. So I decided to leave and investigate on Umbrella on my own to find all the evidence I needed to end them and bring justice to my team. That’s how I took the first flight to Paris and that’s how I met you.”

You remained still for a while, trying to process the entire story. But even if there was a part of you that was sympathising with Chris and recognizing the horrors he had been through, there was still another part that was so mad at him and deeply resentful. “So you used me for your personal vendetta?” “It’s not a vendetta.” He tried to correct.     “Isn’t it?” You retorted and he sighed, a slight annoyance tinting his despair.

“You stole my badge and certainly spied on me judging by the content of this letter to, I quote, bring justice to your team and end Umbrella. Sounds more like a vendetta than a mission to me. But tell me. I’m curious. What else did you do?”           “Y/N.” He murmured, unwilling to admit that part of the story to you. “Stop Y/N me and answer the damn questions! Why did you want my badge? What did you discover when you spied on me? And more especially why me, Chris?!” He looked you in your begging eyes, feeling painfully sorry. “I don’t know why it happened to be you. I guess it could have been anyone else. But I’ve never…” He cupped your cheeks and you took a step back, trying to reject him, in vain. “…ever wanted to hurt you or use you like that.” A new tear slid along your cheek and Chris dried it with his thumb. “That wasn’t my intentions. I just got bogged down in my own lies and the situation escaped my control … and… I don’t expect your apology.”             “ Good. Cause you won’t have it.” You spat and he looked down, trying to contain his sadness. “You should have been honest with me.”             “ I had no choice.” Chris said in his defence but you would not have it.           “No choice?” You scoffed. “The second you felt like the situation was becoming out of your control, you had a choice. Give up, watch it become out of proportion or tell me the fucking truth!”     “I didn’t want to hurt you.” He confessed and you sighed, exasperated. “You said it already but look! Here we are!” You screamed. “I’m hurt! I’m fucking hurt because of you.” That was harsh yet fair.   “Can’t you at least understand why I did this? Can’t you put yourself in my shoes for a second?” He knew he would not have your forgiveness but he hoped to have your understanding.  

You jaw dropped. “Oh but I do understand, Chris! I do! I know what Umbrella is doing is terrible. I know what I’m doing is terrible. But if you had just talked to me, I would have helped you. We…”             “Helped me?” He harrumphed. “You’ve been creating dangerous monsters in your lab for months. And now you’re talking about doing what’s right? Well by all means, explain Project Nemesis!” He growled, finally starting to show his anger, and your eyes widened.     “Oh so you read my journal as well. Fantastic!”       “Yes, I read your journal. I stole your badge. I sent information to my colleagues and I used you. But what is it in comparison to all the awful things you and your scientists buds have been working on in secret in this god-forsaken lab of yours?! You guys are murderers!” You stared at him, bewildered and feeling insulted but the truth was that he was right and you couldn’t help but acknowledge it. “I feel guilty, Y/N. I feel guilty because I know that what I did hurt you. I feel guilty because I happen to care so fucking much about you despite all the reasons I have to despise you. Guilt is eating me up, day and night. But, tell me. how do you sleep at night knowing you’re creating those atrocities?” “Guess you didn’t read my diary so well, did you?” Your calm was back, your anger certainly drowned in pain and sadness. “You know shit, Chris. But if that’s what you think of me the maybe you should probably get out.”  But Chris refused to move.       “Get out” You repeated with the same tone. He shook his head and opened his mouth to speak but you immediately cut him off. “Get out!” You yelled, pushing him as strongly as you could, but he barely moved. “Get out of my place, Chris!” And he didn’t know why he refused to leave or move from that doorframe. Stubbornness? Denial? Or simply his deep attachment for you?                 But whatever it was, you would not have Chris spend another minute in your apartment. “Fine.” You opened his wardrobe and started throwing his clothes in his suitcase, tears running down your face, as Chris watched you, still and quiet. It was the end. He could feel it in his bones.         You grabbed his suitcase and shoved Chris with your shoulder as you left his room to head towards the main door and throw his stuff carelessly in the corridor. Then you went back to lock yourself in your room.  “And don’t forget your precious evidence before leaving!”

Chris blinked a couple times to keep his tears in his eyes when he heard the door to your room slam shut, knowing that this was certainly the last time he would ever see you or hear from you. And it ached more than what he had imagined. How he wished things had ended up differently.

#chris redfield #chris redfield x reader #under her large umbrella #fanfic #resident evil

[youwouldneverbreakthechain]

Fic: Terra Incognita

Title: Terra Incognita Author: Kairos Summary: Rocket had a very limited number of people he loved, or even tolerated, and most of those are dead. What now? Why bother? And what happens when they come back? Wordcount: 4345 Warnings: Some violence, some language. No sex and no spoilers for anything post-Endgame.

Read it on Ao3 here.

“So what did you think of Earth?”

In the moments after Groot slipped through his fingers, the battleground became a graveyard. That wasn’t so bad; what was a graveyard but a place of remembrance? Rocket would have stayed there, just remembering, but it changed again. Time kept moving, people kept reacting, and the battleground turned into what it had been before Rocket had ever seen it -- a stretch of savannah that belonged to the nation of Wakanda, a nation of Earth.

The people changed too. They had been brothers in arms, and now they were Terrans. It shouldn’t have mattered; Rocket had never had his own kind anyway, but there was something unsettling about an entire world that was populated by just one sentient race. They all had the same biology, the same history, the same prejudices in spite of it. They all called him a raccoon. He never bothered to make one of them show him some justification for it.

Thor was the only exception, and Thor was broken. It took only a few days of sheltering with the so-called Avengers for Rocket to realize that he would never have a real friend among them. His only hope was for the survival of some part of his family, and that was no hope at all.

He held on anyway, long enough for Nebula to win her throw of the dice and make it down to Earth to confirm everyone else’s loss. It was as hard for her as it was for Rocket, he realized. There had been a time that understanding another’s pain would have been beyond him, but that was from before he had met Quill and the others. Losing them didn’t erase the way they had changed him. Nebula needed him now. He needed her.

“So what did you think of Earth?”

In the early days, once Thanos had been executed, all of Rocket’s work was done alongside the Avengers. They explained as much about their world as was needed for him to help reconstruct it, and they asked him whatever they thought they needed to know. The same went for Nebula, but since she and Rocket were usually together and she looked more like them than he did, they asked her first. 

There was plenty of living space for everyone at the Avengers headquarters, but Rocket didn’t officially claim a room. He strung up hammocks near his current projects, or found beds that nobody was using. Sometimes he fell asleep in Nebula’s room, which contained a few achingly familiar weapons that she had salvaged. She never remarked on it, though she tossed him a blanket if he needed one.

One day, Rocket finished updating all of the power sources in the building, and for the first time, was left with nothing to do. Instead of lowering himself to asking someone to help keep him busy, he took a walk outside and began to cross the expansive lawn. Footsteps soon took up behind him, and he didn’t have to look to know that it was Nebula.

At the edge of the property he stopped, sniffed the air, and said, “So Quill grew up here.”

“No wonder he never chose to return,” Nebula rasped.

Rocket’s impulse was to agree, but he knew that looking out to a distant city from a secluded compound wasn’t seeing a world. He hesitated, then ventured, “I might go check it out.”

She betrayed no emotion. “We could take a vehicle.”

Nebula drove. The transport units that Terrans used were mostly earthbound, difficult to maneuver and impossible to adjust for greater comfort. As soon as they had reached a living town, Nebula parked, and they left the car to explore on their feet.

Of course there was nobody but more Terrans, and few enough of those. They gawked, some shouted, but none approached, apparently too full of fear or apathy to investigate the foreign species in their midst. A Flerken strolled by, which raised Rocket’s hackles, but Nebula explained that they were called cats here and that none had ever been known to use its deadly power.

Quill’s frequent boasts about his home planet seemed to have no basis in reality. Rocket hadn’t expected much anyway, but he had been harboring a small secret hope that something would remind him of his late human friend. All of that, apparently, was back at the base. Even the music that the Avengers played was more like Quill’s than whatever was now drifting out of someone’s apartment window overhead.

That made sense, he had to admit. The Avengers were more like Quill than the other Terrans in almost every way.

“So what did you think of Earth?”

Rocket knew the real reason that Quill had never returned to his home, although he suspected that Nebula didn’t: like everything about Quill, it had to do with his mother. He had said more than once that he would never be able to set a foot on the planet without grieving for her all over again. 

When the team was still together, Rocket had quietly wondered how true that really was. Maybe it was an excuse for something else, or maybe Quill thought he meant it but would have changed his mind if he ever found himself on Earth again. 

What would Quill have thought about this version of Earth? About the Avengers? 

Rocket still didn’t particularly like them, but he tolerated some better than others. Rhodey had a kind of pragmatism to his despair; his grief was shared and not personal. When Rocket gave him engineering tips, he listened. Banner was intelligent, for a human. His goal of fusing his two personae into a single mind and body was one of the only ideas on Earth that had interested Rocket for its own sake, and Banner didn’t mind him coming into the lab to observe. 

Tony Stark had earned Nebula’s respect, which was enough to get Rocket’s too, but he was never around and the Avengers said he wouldn’t be back. Something about having a baby. That made Rocket think about Groot, so he tuned out every time it was mentioned.

The Terran that Rocket saw most often was Natasha Romanov, which he found unfortunate. She was as subdued and miserable as any of them, but she retained a detached amusement over anything she found incredible, and that included Rocket. When she spoke to him, it was after a brief pause, as if each time she had to convince herself all over again that he was real. He overheard her referring to him as “the raccoon”, long after she had learned his name. She turned all her attention to Nebula when he was standing right next to her.

All of that was typical enough to be barely worth the notice, though, and he found he didn’t want to get back at Romanov even if she were openly laughing at him. Everyone had to find something to not be subdued and miserable about.

For him it was Terran food. They had a knack for combining their meat and produce and grain and artificial flavors into unexpected and delicious snacks, and Rocket tried whatever was available and liked most of it. He seemed to like it more than the Terrans did, actually. They were all so goddamned picky.

One of the first times that he heard any of the Avengers laugh was when Rhodey gave Rogers some kind of candy that made him crease his brow and turn it over in his hands. “Marshmallow...Peeps?”

Rocket pricked his ears. He loved marshmallows.

Rhodey shrugged and ambled over to the monitor where he always checked the daily statistics. “It’s the week after Easter, they’re practically free. What, you didn’t have Peeps in your basket back in the old days?”

Rogers shook his head, smiling. “I think I’ll pass. Nat, you want these?” He tossed them over to her without waiting for an answer.

“Not even if you paid me,” she retorted even as she caught the cellophane-wrapped packet out of the air. She barely spared it a glance as it travelled in a smooth arc from her hand to the nearest wastebasket. 

The humans began reminiscing about the holidays of their youths, so Rocket took it upon himself to liberate the Peeps from the pile of crumpled paper they were sitting on in the basket. The packet hadn’t been opened, but it still smelled strongly of sugar. He tore off the plastic and pulled out one of the soft pink shapes inside, inspecting it with his hands and nose.

“Rocket, man,” said Rhodey suddenly, just as Rocket was stuffing the sweet blob into his mouth. “That is nasty.”

Rocket swallowed and glared. “Wastin’ good food, that’s nasty.”

“Yeah, but from the garbage?”

“I wouldn’a had to get it outta there if one of you dweebs offered me some before you trashed it.”

Rogers sat up straighter, his mirth fading. “I’m sorry, Rocket. Should have thought of that.”

Rocket shrugged. “Don’ matter.” He bit into a second Peep, glad that he wouldn’t have to share them, but the atmosphere in the room had changed. His ears flicked back and forth, sensing that the humans outside of his line of vision were trying to have a silent argument with gestures and facial expressions.

Not Rhodey, though. “I can get you more of those things,” he offered. Rocket nodded emphatically, unconcerned about whether this was going to become a running joke for them.

As he was leaving, absently licking sugar from his hands, he saw Romanov shoot him a quick but unmistakably disgusted look. It was a relief to find Nebula again, although there was no chance she would have understood why he liked the Terran candy. Nebula had never enjoyed any kind of food, as far as he could remember.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, after they had both been silently engaged in their own engineering tasks for a few hours. “Y’know they don’t need us here, right?”

She nodded. “Where should we go?”

“So what did you think of Earth?”

They went to Xandar. Rocket knew that it wouldn’t be easy to see it again, and it wasn’t, but there was work to be done there.

Rhomann Dey’s wife and daughter, he learned, had been taken by the Snap. Dey himself was among those slaughtered by Thanos’s army when it had come to retrieve the Power Stone. The wave of rage and hatred that swept over Rocket when he heard the news was stronger than anything he had felt in months, though still a dim reflection of what he had felt before this new reality had begun to sink in. 

It was energizing, in a way, and he channeled it into restoring the planet’s technology so that the remainder of its people could have some kind of comfort to rely on. They were grateful, in their deadened, glassy-eyed way, but Rocket wished that they blamed him and demanded satisfaction. He explained who he was to anyone who didn’t know, detailing the story of how the Guardians had defeated Ronan but left the Orb instead of keeping it safe from Thanos, and how he was the only Guardian left to atone for their mistakes.

They simply didn’t have the heart to care. Sometimes they interrupted him just to ask when he thought the television would be back on.

“I dunno what else to do,” he said quietly to Nebula, one day when they had retreated to the Benatar, which was the only place they could bear to live. She had been going through the same thing that he had, but moreso. When she told the Xandarians in no uncertain terms that she had last come here as an enemy and a killer, it barely raised eyebrows.

“Keep moving,” she answered promptly. 

They went to Contraxia, Tetra, A’askvaria. Everywhere it was the same. People accepted the help they gave, asked for nothing more, cooperated as needed, and showed no will to survive. Rocket and Nebula ended up spending much of their time chasing down opportunistic criminals, although their stated mission was still research and exchange of information with the team they had left on Terra.

One other, the woman they called Danvers, was moving freely around space. She was both powerful and knowledgeable about the universe outside of one little solar system, and that made Rocket curious about what she could accomplish. Before long, though, it became evident that damage control was all she had in her arsenal, just like him and Nebula and the Avengers and Stark with his baby and absolutely everyone else. Danvers was just one more Terran, and she didn’t even listen to good music.

By the time Rocket was summoned back to Earth, he didn’t have any expectations of hearing an idea with even the possibility of providing the slightest chance of a meager improvement on the current state of reality, but it didn’t matter. It turned out that Earth wasn’t any worse than anywhere else.

“So what did you think of Earth?”

The battle was raging all around him when he found them. Drax first, broadcasting his presence with mad laughter. Rocket dispatched the enemy between them to catch his eye, hailed him through the smoke, and moved on with a grin he couldn't have dropped if he tried. 

Mantis was nearby, as he had expected. She reached up with one bared hand, timing it just right for Rocket to reach down and touch her fingertips as he leaped overhead. She laughed in sheer delight, which he transmitted right back to her as it echoed through the empathic contact. 

He saw Quill and Groot at the same time, apparently right after they had found each other. They were hugging, and though it only lasted for a second, Rocket’s first impulse was to cuss them both out for dropping their guard in the middle of a battle. Quill should know better. Quill was a seasoned fighter. The only time he ever left himself so open was...was when he was overcome with emotion.

Rocket’s anger ebbed away, and he watched the two of them without letting himself be seen so he could cover them until they broke apart and went running back into the fray. It wasn’t hard to decide which one to follow; Groot needed him. He had been alone when he died and must have come back alone, scared and confused.

But when Rocket caught up to him, he only looked happy -- and determined. “I am Groot!” he insisted, extending a branch to point out the next enemy he wanted to slay. Rocket had never felt so proud in his life. 

He stayed by Groot’s side for as long as he could, though still keeping an eye out for Quill. The chance for a real reunion, even the split-second kind he had had with the others, seemed to keep slipping away. The first thing that Quill said to him, between heavy breaths, was, “Did you see Gamora?”

Rocket shook his head, dazed. Gamora was dead with no chance of resurrection; Nebula had told him about it. Had Quill gone mad?

“No. Listen, you gotta gimme a lift. I figured out this move with Rhodey, if you got the jets on your boots I can--”

Quill opened his mask, and Rocket saw his eyes for the first time, frustrated and wild. “Who’s Rhodey?” he demanded. “Forget it, there’s no time. Captain America’s in command, he’s the one with the shield--”

“I know who Captain America is!” Rocket snapped. “That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you!” 

The rest of the discussion was cut short; they both had to get into formation and there was no efficient way to make it work together. It didn’t bother Rocket that this had been their first conversation after so long, but it did bother him, even as he spotted Rhodey and jumped onto his back for the move they had invented, that it might be their last.

So what did you think of Earth?

Quill started packing up the Benatar as soon as Stark’s funeral was over. Rocket was sure he hadn’t even begun to process what happened, let alone taken a moment to explore his roots. 

“So you meant it, huh?” Rocket asked him after completing the final check on every gauge. “You really don’t wanna be on Terra.”

“Of course I meant it,” Quill muttered, tossing a sack into the hold. “Why, do you?”

Rocket knew better than to respond to what was obviously a sarcastic question, but he did have a silent, unexpected brush with doubt about his answer. On one hand, he couldn’t wait to leave Earth; on the other, there were a few goodbyes coming that would be harder than he had expected. 

Rhodey was standing solemnly outside the hatch, eye level with Rocket, halfway up the steps. “You ever need anything, you just ask,” he said.

Rocket laughed. “From Earth? Yeah right.”

Rhodey laughed along, but wouldn’t withdraw the offer. “You just ask,” he repeated. He handed Rocket a packet of Peeps, and then he was walking away, waving flippantly. “Catch you later, mister ringtail. Keep an eye on Thor.”

Rocket didn’t realize that Quill had been listening until after the Benatar had left the solar system. It was quiet, almost meditative, if you were into that kind of thing. Quill was in the frontmost seat on the right, Rocket on the left, and everything felt so right. 

“Was that guy an Avenger?” Quill asked in that too-casual tone he used when he was feeling pissy about something.

It was a tone that Rocket hadn’t heard in five years, and there was no way he could have reacted the way he used to, with rolled eyes and a barb. He wanted to cry for joy, just being here again, sitting next to this sulky idiot. Instead he grinned and replied, “Eh, they call all of ‘em Avengers now. Probably even us.”

“I’m not an Avenger!” Quill protested. 

As he was getting even more upset, Rocket was feeling even happier. “Who cares? The job got done. Nobody’s tryin’ to tell us we ain’t Guardians.”

Quill’s voice dropped under his breath. “Figures.”

“What?”

“Nothing. You’ve got other friends now. It’s fine.”

It was stupid as hell but it was still funny, and even a little bit touching. Rocket let him change the subject to their flight path, and then Thor came in and started telling some off-the-wall story and it was a while before Rocket and Quill were alone together again.

But the next time it wasn’t funny. They were charting a routine supply run, and Rocket had to keep correcting him because of all the ways that the routes and businesses he had known had changed over the past five years, not to mention the various upgrades to the Benatar itself. Quill’s fuse kept getting shorter and shorter until finally he unstrapped his holster and slammed it onto the table, blasters and all, like that was the only gesture that could match his words. “Fine! You want Thor to be captain so bad, Thor’s captain now!”

Neither of them had been saying a thing about Thor, or who should be captain. The topic hadn’t even come up since they had left Earth. Rocket bared his teeth. “Whatever’s got its claws in you, Quill, you better start dealin’ with it. The rest of us did already.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to deal with it? Gamora’s the only one who ever understood me, and she’s dead! And now there’s another Gamora out there somewhere who doesn’t know us and hates my guts! And you - you -”

Rocket was down on all fours on the table, his fur bristling under his clothes. “Me what? Me went through hell all this time while you got to skip past it? Had a family one day and then nobody but Nebula the next? Gave everything I could to try to get you losers back?” 

Quill crossed his arms and locked eyes with Rocket. “Yeah,” he said, making it sound like a challenge. “All of that.”

There was a short but echoing pause. Rocket stood up. “I’m still here, Quill. Gamora’s not the only one who understood you. She never was.”

“After that battle…” Quill’s voice broke slightly, and he swallowed and took a deep breath before going on. “I saw the way people talked to you. How they respected you. And I thought, man, it took us four years to get to know each other that well. And then I thought, oh, right. They had five.”

That wasn’t news. Rocket had done the math himself, counting the days since Thanos won, and dismissed it as meaningless trivia. But the idea that the Terrans had respected him? Why would they? 

“I get it, y’know,” Quill stated bitterly. “Why the Avengers and all of them didn’t like me. If you feel the same way, I get that too.”

Rocket tilted his head, genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re all still mad because I screwed up the plan on Titan. Stark probably told everyone how I flipped out because...you know.”

“That’s your problem? Friggin’ mushbrained…” He inhaled, then bellowed, “THOR! Get your royal ass in here!”

Thor didn’t hurry, but he did come. He was looking better, although his depression had taken a toll on his body and his full recovery would take time. “Hello Rabbit, Captain Star-Lord,” he said, nodding to each of them. “Is there a cause for concern?”

Rocket jerked his head at Quill. “Yeah. Look, I need this moron to know what you did while he was gone, so just interrupt me if I get anything wrong, okay? Like, we all caught up to Thanos in the Garden and we’re debatin’ what to do with him and you just decide to swing your fancy axe and kill him dead so’s we never get any more answers outta him, is that how you remember that?”

The jovial expression that Thor had been wearing vanished. “Yes,” he replied. “That is how it happened.”

“And then how about when you and me are in Asgard tryin’ to snag the Reality Ooze and the whole future of everything depends on us and that’s when you have your meltdown ‘cause I guess it’s all about you in the end?”

Thor nodded solemnly, but Quill, plainly aghast, muttered, “Geez, dude, let up…”

Rocket shot him a glare. “You think you’re the only one who screwed us all over? This here’s a friggin’ god, calls down lightning an’ shit, and he still blew it. Why are we keepin’ him around, huh? What makes you think he’s gonna be a better captain than you?”

Quill gave Thor a hard look, then turned back to Rocket. “Maybe you’re the one who should be our captain.”

“Right,” said Rocket sarcastically. “Because I’m the one who never made a mistake. You’re a clown, Quill. Think back a little.”

As memories of life with the Guardians played openly across Quill’s face, Rocket took the chance to confront his own past. He had been born in a laboratory and raised by scientists who had barely acknowledged his capacity to feel pain. With everything that had happened, it no longer seemed so important, but he clearly remembered the days when he had thought that all he could be was what they had made him. Time hadn’t taught him differently. The Guardians had. 

Thor stepped forward and put a hand on Quill’s shoulder. He spoke softly and with infinite kindness. “I was the king of my people. I chose to abscond. I have no desire to take your place, Peter Quill, and it’s you that your people need.”

“They need each other. Not me.”

Hearing those words from Quill was as painful as death, and Rocket knew what that meant: there must be some truth to them. The team was fractured. Groot was Groot and Drax was Drax, and Mantis could bypass hours of heartfelt talk with one touch. But Gamora had left an open wound, and Thor was welcomed by all but still an outsider to the ones who had been gone.

Most of all, Rocket and Nebula now stood apart from the others. They had grown. They had changed a little, maybe a lot. It didn’t matter to Rocket, so he didn’t know what to do when he saw how it mattered to Quill.

“Yeah,” Rocket heard himself saying. “Five years without you, an’ I survived it. Never woulda thought it myself, but I guess that’s proof I didn’t need you.”

Thor’s eyes were wide; Quill’s were bloodshot and unfocused. “Are you…” He paused and inhaled deeply. “Are you going to go back and join the Avengers?”

“Like hell!” Rocket growled. “I’m a Guardian of the Galaxy, not some pansy-ass Avenger, no offense Thor.”

“None taken.”

“There’s nothin’ left for me on that d’ast planet. Just bad memories. People dyin’ who I didn’t want to die. You oughta get this better than anyone, Quill.” Rocket raked his claws through the fur on his head. “If you don’t, then why did we leave?”

Quill’s response was plainly automatic, and it took a second for his brain to catch up to his words. “Because my mother--!” He blinked. “Oh.”

Thor was grinning broadly, all of a sudden. “Well,” he announced, “I think I’ll go and have a salad.”

After he had left, Rocket and Quill were left staring at each other for a few moments, and then finally, both sighed and sat down at almost the same instant. 

“Five years, man,” said Quill.

“Still waitin’ for you to ask what I was doing all that time,” Rocket replied.

The laugh that Quill let out was as real and familiar and sweet as his anger had been. He sat up straighter and asked with cautious eagerness, “So...what did you think of Earth?”

Rocket felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, making his whiskers twitch. He cocked an ear at his friend. “You ever had a Marshmallow Peep?”

#rocket raccoon #mcu fanfiction #gotg fanfiction #guardians of the galaxy #post-endgame