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hades-in-bloom · 4 months

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Bitten Lips

a/n: happy Astarion brainrot—two silly blurbs for both Tav (#1, w/ Spawn A) and The Dark Urge (#2, w/ Ascended A) using the same keywords (see the title; like, also don’t ask how and why, pretty please). Summaries and additional warnings per blurb below. As always, proceed at your own risk. Minors DNI! Masterlist xoxo

spoilers for Act 3

warnings & contents [for both]: depictions of self-harm (non-suicidal); mentions of blood; the reader could be any gender; Tav/Durge could be any race or class; age gap (hard not to with a 200-years-old vampire); could’ve been a headcanon

[1] : lucky one

Spawn!Astarion Ancunin x Tav!Reader

summary [1]: Tav is nervous, and somehow it makes Astarion climb a wall.

+warnings & contents [1]: unadulterated comfort with a pinch of anxiety; silly bad habits driving Astarion insane; cheeky Tav

soundtrack [1]: måneskin — honey (are you coming?)

***

Astarion snaps when you bring wandering fingers to the bottom of your face again.

“Stop it,” the elf demands, mouth pressed into a thin line as he attempts to keep his frustration in check. You wince slightly, picking a string of dry skin from your wounded lips once more without realising the gravity of your actions.

“Sweet hells,” Astarion grumbles. “Why would you do it? It’s disgusting.” A bizarre mix of annoyance and worry is almost palpable in his well articulated voice. He’s seen worse sights, but you hurt yourself—that’s what he finds appalling.

As thin blood gushes out of a fresh rip on your lip, unadulterated guilt floods your essence instantly. You feel your cheeks heat up, and anxiety crooks your fingers, while you finally realize how sore your lips are since you kept violating them repeatedly in the past half an hour, agitated and a little bit overwhelmed. A prospective of turning into a mindflayer with no lips whatsoever soon down the line would make anyone nervous after all.

Astarion gives you a long stare, so you look away and mumble, “I’m sorry.” To be honest, you didn’t expect him to pick up on your silly bad habit; no one ever pays that much attention to it—there are always bigger problems to tend—but somehow he does notice.

Your tongue runs across your bottom lip, and you taste metal.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” The vampire frowns, his voice rising an octave. He frets, however hides the feelings behind a playful facade everyone’s been so used to. “Otherwise you’re ruining that pretty face of yours for no reason.”

He asks difficult questions, so you huff, unsure of what you’re supposed to say. You’ve never been great at talking about your feelings, bottling up your emotions deep down instead, where no one would ever think of rummaging.

“You didn’t expect me to always be a damned ray of sunshine, did you?” You revert your gaze to him reluctantly.

To be fair, usually you’ve smiled inappropriately often. If there were any expectations in this regard among the party members, you are the one to blame for it.

“Gods, no. Also, too much sun is bad for my health, so...” Astarion shrugs off your cynicism without a second thought. “You do you, lover.”

The pale elf’s stare lingers on you way too long for your liking, mildly unfounded uneasiness growing inside you. You want him to drop it; you want him not to care, when you don’t have answers for him. Of course, it’s too much to ask. You lose your patience at once, rolling your eyes in defeat.

“You won’t let it go,” you acknowledge, and his lips curl into a faint smile in response.

“I will if you stop doing that,” the pale elf retorts with a hint of desperate outrage as your finger innocently slides over your sore lip unwittingly, probing before the next torture.

You turn your obsession into advantage, and there’s a mischievous spark in your eyes. “I won’t be able to stop by myself.”

He catches up almost instantaneously, with his gaze fixated on your bloody, tortured lips now for all the wrong (or right?) reasons.

Astarion eliminates the distance between you two with a shameless smirk forming on his face—the smirk you knew quite well.

“Darling, aren’t you lucky,” his voice sings, and he wraps his arm around you, pulling your bodies close, leaning forward meaningfully. “I might just be willing to help you out.”

[2] : broken one

Ascended!Astarion Ancunin x Consort!Dark Urge!Reader

summary [2]: Astarion’s partner falls a victim of their dark urges once again.

+warnings & contents [2]: Durge is durging; mentions of murder; mild descriptions of death; unhinged kisses; implied power struggle?

soundtrack [2]: bella poarch — villain and dutch melrose — runrunrun

***

Tonight the palace giggles in your voice, and It can only mean one thing. Astarion hears what you did well before he steps into the bedroom, blood champing under the sole of his exquisitely made shoe. Right there, in the epicentre of massacre, your figure is hunched over maid’s body, now lifeless. Her head hangs limply from your lap, while your twitching fingers are sorting through strands of gore stained hair.

Astarion takes stock of the committed atrocity for one moment before he begins to approach. “What a mess,” he sighs, slightly wrinkling delicate features in annoyance, making his verdict. “Why, little love—this one is particularly sloppy.”

You have not come to senses yet to argue; there is a dreamy, unsettling smile on your face as you glance at your beloved glassy-eyed. Astarion smiles tenderly in return, his fingers gripping your chin to lift your head.

“Poor thing,” the man cooes a tad condescendingly, seizing the moment, when you are incapable of biting back.

Animalistic grunt escapes your throat, and you snarl, but the vampire lord holds you in place tightly. He covers your bleeding, bitten in heat of the urge lips with his own, fangs dragging over your sore skin, making you gasp, almost weep instead.

At other times headstrong and fierce, able to fight back against his caring tyranny, at this point you are exhausted. You cling to his embellished doublet with the last of your strength, pleading, surrendering yourself at his mercy.

“My lovely consort,” Astarion mutters with affection, satisfied with your obedience to the point of one’s disgust.

The pale elf kicks back maidservant’s body with his foot and picks you up in his arms, holding tight to his chest as he carries you to your shared bed. You can feel the urge leaving your body, taking your consciousness away with it.

“It’s going to be over soon, my love.” Astarion whispers soothingly, although you can’t hear him anymore. “It’s going to be over soon.”

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hades-in-bloom · 5 months

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The Bigger Person

Spawn!Astarion Ancunin x Redeemed Dark Urge!Reader

summary: after saving Baldur’s Gate, Astarion and his partner descend into the Underdark to take care of Cazador’s misdeeds. All seven thousands of them. Was it something the elf truly wanted to do with his freedom?

spoilers for Act 3/Pale Elf and Epilogue

warnings & contents: teethy fluff; established relationship; comfort, sass, and class; hints of existential crisis; the reader could be any gender; mentions of trauma; some hugs; assumed drow or half-drow background of the reader but could be any race

a/n: I am kinda terrified of writing for Astarion as I respect Larian’s work SO MUCH (so Larian, please forgive me, if I ever do this goofy dagger-happy love wrong). This blurb came out of nowhere as I was bored during my long ass flight. As always, proceed at your own risk. Minors DNI! Masterlist xoxo

soundtrack: miley cyrus — used to be young

***

You watched Astarion from afar as elf was basking in the azure light of a Sussur tree. His pale skin glowing, eyes half-lidded—one of, if not the most beautiful sight you’ve seen in your entire life. Radiance of a Sussur flower might have been the closest thing to the sunlight the vampire spawn had now, after the ever-protecting tadpole was gone.

It was barely a couple of weeks since the Netherbrain crushed into the Chionthar. The exhausting journey was finally over. Your thoughts for a moment went to Gale—how was he fairing now, taking into account his condition? And what any of you was supposed to do with your lives now, after saving the world?

You shook off your guessings by and by—only to notice that it was Astarion’s turn to stare at you. His smooth lips curved into a mischievous grin.

“My once murderous little love, what were you daydreaming of?” The man wondered as he stepped towards you, stretching out a hand for you to touch, inviting you to feel the soothing coldness of his forever-young skin. The elf tilted his head a bit, curiously; studying you.

“You seemed… far from here.” Although his tone was lighthearted, you could see concern in the wandering gaze of garnet eyes. After all these weeks traveling—and now living— together, you could read him quite well.

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled before coming to your senses; a gentle, slightly teasing smile appearing on your face. “I was stalking you, actually. You fit quite well with the Underdark, you know.”

Astarion didn’t seem to object your observations.

Obviously.

“Well,” he gestured abstractly, pretending not to care, although he cared quite a bit. “You don’t say, my sweet. Although I'd assume that my features should look aesthetically pleasing in most of the attention worthy places.”

You couldn’t keep a straight face as you laughed, enjoying his lazy attempts to hide a proud smile.

“Behave, Astarion. There are kids in the close vicinity, after all.”

The man changed in the face and let out a soft groan. “Seven thousand of them,” he muttered with slight annoyance in his voice.

Despite grimaces Astarion made regularly, you could see him enjoying it—taking care of the murderous horde of vampire spawns to whom the elf showed mercy in the palace. He was their mentor, their leader now—a counterpart to what Cazador was, the monster that created them all. Now so much better than him.

“I blame you,” Astarion continued in the meantime, playfully pointing a finger in your direction. “That’s all your nasty influence. Be the bigger person, dear!..” he passionately—and painfully accurately—mimicked your tone of voice while saying the last piece. You, though, weren’t offended in the slightest. You liked him even more when he dared to show the silly side of his complex, wounded personality.

You felt his hand crawling around your waist as he huffed next to your ear shortly after. “Why should I be a bigger person, darling, when I can be happy and petty?”

You snorted. “I don’t think you’re holding back on pettiness, love.”

His smile stretched across the skin of your neck in a silent, although eloquent enough reply. None of you said a thing for quite a while, staying motionless close to each other with heads buried deep into your own thoughts.

“Thank you.” You blurted out eventually.

Astarion shifted, looking into your face with his eyebrow raised. He was visibly confused.

“Thank you for choosing this. Choosing them.” you continued as you met his gaze with yours. “Instead of your… freedom.” You struggled to find a better word for that.

Astarion didn’t seem to be convinced; didn’t seem to follow at first. “I’m free,” he replied gravely. “The bastard is dead.”

You shook your head slightly. “You could’ve been anywhere. Doing anything,” you retorted with care. “But you’re here instead.”

His facial features softened as he understood why you were saying what you were saying. There was a pinch of truth in your words—he spent some time thinking about it, too, after you’ve both descended into the Underdark and began building this fort; the safe harbor for Cazador’s cursed—as although perpetually hungry vampire spawns now, these people deserved to have a place to call home, no matter how dangerous or uncivilised per human standards it was.

You heard Astarion letting out a reluctant sigh as he came to terms with his own decision once more.

“This was the right thing to do.” The elf concluded at once.

Mild aversion to his own heroism that manifested itself in his whole appearance in that particular moment made you giggle suddenly.

“My, my. Who thought you'd be up for doing The Right Thing the first time we met.”

The elf gave you a friendly, tad fiendish stare as he rolled his eyes, and you scoffed as he spoke. “Not that you were a paragon of virtuousness back then either, being your daddy’s scion.” You made an unamused face that made him smile.

Astarion reassured you then with playful seriousness, letting his lips and teeth slide affectionately to your neck. “Don’t keep your hopes up, darling. Now my quota of the rightful deeds is fulfilled for the upcoming century.”

You smirked as you locked him into a hug, not believing a single word of what that man just said as you felt him hugging you back.

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hades-in-bloom · 5 months

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Today Astarion called my Durge his “sweet, conflicted villain” and I can’t get over it.

(My third playthrough, never heard this line before.)

#why is he like this #there is a star in his name for a reason #astarion ancunin #astarion #astarion x dark urge #durgestarion #bg3 #bg3 spoilers

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hades-in-bloom · 8 months

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Scars

Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

summary: thinking of Leon’s scars (with a little bit of touching).

warnings & contents: fluff; assumed older Leon (more of RE6 and Vendetta, although I keep using ID! to illustrate); could be age gap, could be none; lots of cuddling; mentions of violence (sorta); the reader could be any gender; no mentions of y/n

a/n: a blurb, because I can. As always, proceed at your own risk. Minors DNI! Masterlist xoxo

soundtrack: billie eilish — when the party’s over

***

Leon’s figure was resting on top of the bedsheets, his bare back exposed to one’s curious sight with his features relaxed, while he was catching up on hours of sleep he was deprived of this week; thanks to another one of those excruciating missions. You couldn’t hold back a small smile; he looked so peaceful, lying there with disheveled dirty blonde hair and not a glimpse of worry on his face—something you would die to see more often after everything he has endured.

You were doing your best to stay as quiet as humanly possible so you wouldn’t wake him up when your gaze got drawn to the network of scars, interspersed with moles, scattered across his pale skin. There were a couple of fresh bruises flourishing into purple and yellow blobs, too, adding to a rich picture. You winced like you could feel his pain. You’d never get used to seeing him this way—seeing him hurt.

Your touch was lighter than one of a feather when your fingers slid over one of his scars, tracing its shape slowly, with care. This one seemed to be old, fading away over the years, thus one of the rarest ones—as there were many more those anew, coming in different shapes and shades of pink. It didn’t matter, though, how many of them were on Kennedy’s body—you knew them all, keeping the count.

You pulled your hand away in a swift motion as you felt Leon stir. He was still half-asleep when he opened his eyes a crack, his gaze fixed on your features. You looked guilty.

“Hey,” he muttered hoarsely with a faint smile. He didn’t sound irritated—rather exhausted. “Can’t keep your hands off of me, sweetheart?”

You chuckled softly as you eliminated the distance between the two of you, and then rested your head on the edge of his pillow. His hand immediately wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you up.” You pressed your lips against his forehead. You kept your voice barely above the whisper, hoping he’d be able to go back to sleep.

He hummed, “It’s okay,” with his eyes almost shut again, as his mind stayed in the half-place between awakeness and dreams. His thumb caressed your side mindlessly, soothing himself down.

You put your hands on his back in a kind of hug, feeling the bumps of his scars under your fingers.

“You have never told me their stories,” you said quietly, cradling him with your touch.

Leon’s body tensed slightly, his face now hidden in the crook of your neck. His warm and even breathing sent shivers down your spine.

The man became silent for a moment, taking his time before he replied, “I don’t believe these are stories that I should make you listen to.”

He preferred not to bring his work home.

You didn’t insist—you have always respected his choices. You left a kiss on his temple while Leon hugged you tighter.

“I’ll listen to anything you’d be willing to tell me, handsome.”

He smiled; you could feel his lips stretching out on the skin of your neck. It wasn’t a trust issue; Kennedy could tell that much—but he needed time to gather the courage to drag you into his waking nightmare.

“Maybe one day, sweetheart,” Leon sighed deeply, his tone calm as he admitted; his eyes now closed. “Maybe one day.”

You spent the next minutes running fingers through his hair until he drifted back into a blissful sleep.

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hades-in-bloom · 8 months

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It's still art, lovely. If it's created by hand & hard work, it is art to me. Don't sell yourself short x

It takes me a forever to reply, but—thank you sm for this 🫶 xoxo

#sweethearts ❤️#anon ask

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hades-in-bloom · 8 months

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Delicate (Nightmare)

Dr. Jonathan Reid x Reader

warnings & contents: smut; mentions of blood; mentions of unaliving; no plot; no mentions of y/n; just a blurb.

a/n: so once Louise, one of NPCs, asked if “vampires can even fuck;” I spiraled from there. Chances are it’s not a high-quality smut either due to how inexperienced I am in writing this genre lol As always, proceed at your own risk. Minors DNI!!

***

The flimsy hospital bed in his lavish cabinet squeaks with a certain rhythm underneath the weight of two bodies, and you whimper as your legs attempt to close after one more thrust. Jonathan groans like an animal, and you feel his sharp teeth grazing along the delicate skin of your neck. He doesn’t bite—each time he leans down to your throat, dragging his tongue across it from time to time feverishly, he entertains the thought of sucking you dry but ends up building up the tension further instead, teasing both of you relentlessly. Adrenaline rushes up your veins as you doubt at moments if his willpower would be enough to keep you alive throughout this fling.

His bloodshot eyes are half-lidded as his hips push into you harder, and he forgets about having inhuman strength for a second—enough not to break you but making your body shudder, nevertheless. You open your mouth for another hopeless cry, but you get no opportunity to get louder as the good doctor presses his palm on your mouth, shutting you up for good.

“Quiet,” Reid grunts through his greeted teeth.

Right. You are in the hospital; after all, the patients need their rest.

You fist the worn-out bedsheets instead and attempt to bite his hand in the unbearable heat his touch installs upon you. He replies by digging his sharp nails into your thighs, so you squirm and curse eloquently, although your words are muffled; a shy drop of blood streams down your thigh as his grip on your body tightens. You bet he can smell it—so he gasps and shivers a second later, his movements erratic, and your eyes roll back into your scull as he pushes you over the edge. Hard. Climax makes your mind go blank, and before you get too loud, you feel his hand squeezing your neck—just enough so you’d choke on your cry.

The good doctor keeps his hand on your throat for a couple of moments more as he follows you suit and lets himself go next—like the bloody gentleman he is—and your hips falter as you feel his orgasm, your nails risking to tear the skin on his wrist for air access. Reid sighs hoarsely—and at once loosens his grip on you sharply, fearful of injuring you, as soon as he starts coming to his senses after the intensity of intercourse.

You gasp and cough while filling up your lungs with oxygen again as he leans onto you with no control over his body weight.

Soon, his hand starts trailing up your leg soothingly, counting all the wild marks he left on you tonight. Jonathan then breathes onto your neck and presses his lips under your earlobe.

“I’ll patch you up,” he promises affectionately. His voice sounds hoarse and slightly broken.

You slide your hand over his shoulder blades in acknowledgment as you groan breathlessly, too frazzled to react in any other way.

#vampyr #dr. jonathan reid #jonathan reid #jonathan reid x reader #x reader #imagine #jonathan reid imagine #reader insert #smut #x you smut #x you #drabble #vampyr imagine

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hades-in-bloom · 8 months

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But First, Coffee

Post-DI!Leon S. Kennedy x Corp Exec!Reader

summary: Leon is after his next target when he encounters a not-so-cooperative informant.

warnings & contents: older Leon (as per usual); could be age gap, could be none; accidentally plot-heavy and a dialogue heaven; mentions of smoking; Leon doesn’t do one-night stands; hints of power play; the reader could be any gender; might be turned into series (? big question mark).

a/n: this one just wrote itself as the pairing dynamic bugged me for a while—I haven’t seen it anywhere yet, but nudge me if I’ve missed anything; I think Leon might enjoy being bossed around a bit (for his own good, also by someone who isn’t Ada)—and as he can easily boss back, too. Overall, desperately clinging to my last brain cells. As always, proceed at your own risk—and let me know if this smaller font is unreadable. Minors DNI! Masterlist

Also—holy smokes, folks—this blog hit 100+ follows! Might sound insignificant to some, but it just blows my mind. Thank you so much for reading! xoxo

***

‘I haven't seen him. I wasn't paying attention. Please, I have more important things to attend to,’ you begged repeatedly—until a cop who was torturing you gave up. She knew she couldn’t keep you in the interrogation room for longer, so she had to let you out—eventually. You never thought that your morning run would end up with you in a police department.

‘We’ll have a short break,’ she sighed, giving you a stern look. ‘You may grab coffee next door; I'll call you back.’

You breathed out an irritated ‘Great,’ and took your chances, making your way to the only coffee machine in your vicinity. That one looked abused by thousands of hands eager to get a dose of instant caffeine.

‘You’d be better off drinking plain water than this,’ you heard a chuckle from your right before you noticed a tall man leaning on the nearby wall, watching you. He was dressed casually–heavy boots, dark jeans with a straight fit, and a probably expensive leather jacket; his sharp gaze trained on you, attempting to look into your soul—luckily for you, some of your employees were convinced you had no soul, so you left unfazed by the efforts.

You chuckled back at him. ‘Fair, but I don’t think that even this swill of a drink could worsen my situation.’

‘You don’t look like a local,’ you mentioned aloud, and he smirked in reply.

‘Good eye—I’m not. Well, not anymore,’ he confessed, stepping towards you. He didn’t seem to be planning to give you more details about himself, and you weren’t in a hurry to ask—or, instead, you didn’t care—yet.

‘Well,’ you gave him a look full of friendly irony, ‘if you’re not my knight in shining armour who can get me the hell out of this interrogation immediately, so I won't lose my job, I’d rather get on with my coffee.’

You turned your attention to the visibly overused coffee machine so you didn’t see how his eyebrows rose up a little, and a slight smirk touched his lips.

You grabbed a half-full coffee cup from under the machine and then turned as you heard your name down the corridor. ‘And that’s me.’ You emphasized before walking away. He watched you calmly, his eyes expression unreadable. ‘So long, local boy.’

You couldn’t hear him when he quietly chuckled in amusement as you returned to the officer’s lair.

It took twenty more minutes of unnecessary suffering before the door to the interrogation room swung open.

‘Leon?’ The cop looked surprised as you glanced at the intruder quickly—the local boy. Now, you were intrigued.

‘Jess, sorry for interrupting,’ Leon smiled at the old friend, ‘but I have Chief’s clearance to get this one,’ the man nodded at you briefly, ‘out of this questioning.’ He gave Jess—or, as known by you, Detective Jessica Harlow—an apologetic look. ‘D.S.O. orders.’

The detective sighed and returned him an irritated but tamed look. ‘Fine,’ Jessica glanced back at you. ‘It was a waste of time anyway.’

You couldn't hold back a scoff. ‘Tell me about that.’ Leon gave you a dirty look, although you could see his mouth twitch in a suppressed giggle.

‘Alright, get out.’ He said with a sigh, waving you towards the corridor. ‘I'll explain everything on the way.’

As you stepped outside the NYPD building, you took a moment to examine him. ‘So you are the knight in shining armour.’

Leon chuckled lightheartedly. ‘Oh, I'm definitely not that.’ The man neither considered himself noble nor his usual tactical vest was shiny. From his point of view, he wasn’t a hero type either.

‘Leon Kennedy, Division of Security Operations under the U.S. government,’ he introduced himself, done with the jokes. You held back a moan—so the local boy was a trap—a quite high-flying bird, though. He read you and showed a soft smile. ‘I know you have spent a lot of time with Jess, but I might have a couple of questions more.’ Leon thought he was worthy of the favor after he pulled you out of the interrogation with NYPD hours before Harlow would get satisfied—Jessica has always been thorough. ‘And for a change, they won't be about that theft you witnessed this morning.’

You weren’t excited; he could see that much. ‘Do I have a choice?’ You sighed.

‘Not really,’ Leon admitted honestly. You found him amusing—although the man knew he was in control of the situation, his look was soft, allowing, lacking arrogance you get used to seeing in your line of work, and he was too relaxed to your liking.

‘Can it wait at least?’ You pressed with desperate notes in your tone. ‘I am late to a critical meeting.’

He nodded reassuringly after a short pause.

Although still impatient, you sighed in relief and took a business card out, handing it over to the federal agent. ‘I guess I can skip my introduction.’ You stepped to the side, hailing a taxi. ‘Call my assistant. He’ll match our schedules.’

‘I can wait, but I can’t wait for long,’ Leon retorted as your leg stepped inside the yellow car.

You gave Kennedy a sweet smile before you shut the door. ‘Great. You tell him that.’

Leon was left stunned for a moment as he watched the car riding off deeper into downtown New York.

‘Shit,’ he mumbled with annoyance in his voice—and with a sudden hint of admiration, too.

***

‘I told you—I can’t wait that long.’

You jolted in surprise as you heard a familiar voice and your car door swung open. It was a couple of days since you met him for the first time.

‘I told you to call my assistant,’ you smiled politely as Leon made himself comfortable in the backseat next to you. You gave the nod to a company driver that he could drive on despite the unexpected guest present.

‘Oh, I have called—but the only available slot is three weeks from now. I guess you forgot to brief him on the urgency of our meeting.’

‘My bad then.’ You sighed, showing no remorse. ‘Close the door if you want this conversation to happen. I was just about to drive back home.’

Kennedy followed your advice and shut the door before the car took off.

‘So, what do you want to know?’

You were direct—Kennedy preferred that style of communication. Leon pulled up a picture on his phone. ‘There’s an assumption to believe you should know that guy.’ You tensed a bit as you took a look at the image.

‘I would prefer to have my lawyer present,’ you replied casually, making Leon chuckle.

‘Come on, it’s a friendly conversation. I’m not here to accuse you of anything—I have more important things on my plate.’

You scoffed. While thinking, you pulled up a cigarette case out of your purse and were about to light up one of those when you noticed the man making a slight grimace—it wasn’t his goal to tell you what to do, and you probably wouldn’t have noticed it if you didn’t glance at him at the right time. You shot him a look. ‘What’s that? I saw it.’

‘I just… prefer my clothes not to smell of cigarette smoke,’ Leon replied, his voice gentle but confident. Despite the diversion, he stayed close to the topic. ‘But I'd rather you answer my question than we talk about the dangers of smoking.’

You had to admit that this annoying motherfucker had a style. ‘Great. Otherwise, I was looking forward to being scolded by a stranger.’ Your tone of voice was surprisingly friendly. Leon seemed not to hold a grudge.

You didn't care much about the opinions of others generally—but this time, the unknown force made you slow down and put away your lighter before you got a light out of it.

At last, you entertained his question. ‘The man is Art Rankine.’ You glanced back at Kennedy’s phone, still showing the photo. ‘I had a pleasure to work with him on one of the mergers.’

‘Legion Corp.,’ Leon assumed, and you raised an eyebrow.

‘Good to hear you did your homework. Then I don’t have to break my NDA—and thanks to that one, I’m not sure I can help you much.’

‘I would question that all of your encounters with Mr. Rankine were covered by the NDA.’ The man smiled, giving you a look. You felt your cheeks getting warm. ‘Am I right?’ Leon tilted his head while keeping eye contact. After a moment, you returned a dirty look at him.

‘We dated. Fleetingly, if I may add,’ you admitted reluctantly.

‘Good. As the merger was closed recently, I'd assume you still have his private contact?’ Kennedy asked.

You felt like you were falling into the James Bond-esque rabbit hole, and you didn't enjoy it.

‘So the all-knowing Leon Kennedy knows I slept with the man but couldn’t get his number?’ You didn't hold back on sarcasm, but it left the federal agent unfazed.

‘Something like that,’ he retorted. ‘I need your help to set up a meeting. That’s all I ask for.’

You scoffed. ‘You request me to contact my ex, and then you call it a small favor?’

‘That’s the best offer I’ve got.’ Leon admitted. ‘I’d rather we establish this partnership quickly.’ Oh, you knew well what that meant—a very gentle threat of making you spend a lot of money on your lawyer. It annoyed you as much as, to your amusement, you found it hot.

You sighed.

‘How do you want the meeting?’

You could see his watercolor eyes light up in satisfaction.

‘We can talk about it tomorrow. Care to give me your personal number?’

You took his mobile phone out of his hands before quickly typing in your number and calling your cell.

‘I am saving you under a horrible name,’ you warned the federal agent, and Leon let out a chortle.

‘Flattered. Now, I can get off right there,’ he nodded at the closest street corner. Soon, the driver stopped there for a moment.

‘So long, local boy.’

You watched him get out of the car, observing his features unintently—and then, by accident, you caught himself staring at his lips for a quarter of a second.

He noticed it.

‘Buy me a coffee first, sweetheart,’ he smirked before closing the car door as he exited the vehicle.

You realized you were holding back your breath after a while—you shook it off right after, finally putting a cigarette into your mouth and briefly cursing under your breath while you lit it up.

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hades-in-bloom · 8 months

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I'm sending this ask to my favorite writers to get to know them - what inspires your art? 🌞♥️

So before we start calling my writing “art,” I have to make a warning that I'm always writing from my mobile phone and don't spend much time proofreading these blurbs of mine lol

But honestly, thank you 🩵 I just enjoy writing, it helps me deal with my anxiety—and Leon is way too interesting of a character to leave him unnoticed.

Thank you so much for reading!

xoxo

#anon ask #ty <3 #sweethearts ❤️

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hades-in-bloom · 8 months

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Just finished reading few of your works and they are SO GOOD!!! You have a replay great writing and Leon’s characterization, and I love it so much 😍😍 - @konigbabe

@konigbabe OMG THANK YOU!! It brings me so much joy that all of it (or most of it 😂) is actually readable lol And this goofy blonde motherfucker stole my heart (help), I dunno what to do with it (nothing?). Thank you so much for reading 🩵

P.S. I read it a while back but I’m obsessed with your Single Dad Leon AU. Damn, a masterpiece 🫶

#not really anon ask #ty <3

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hades-in-bloom · 8 months

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Hiii, just wanted to pop in and say “Have a wonderful day” 🫶🏻

🫶 Have a wonderful day yourself! Thank you for hanging around 🩵

#sweethearts ❤️

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hades-in-bloom · 8 months

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ik that its just fiction but please dont slap a suicidal person after they just tried to commit suicide😭

Thank you, Anon! Yes, please don’t y’all in these situations 🙏 Tbh I even went ahead and left a quick note on the story, too.

Also, I hope it comes across in “Shower Thoughts” that it’s mostly about ideation with means, not an attempt. Although our boy tends to fall into destructive behavioral patterns, I doubt he'd go ahead with harming himself.

🩵

#anon ask #leon kennedy #leon s. kennedy

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hades-in-bloom · 8 months

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Shower Thoughts

Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

summary: Leon has just returned from another soul-crushing mission—and you didn't happen to be home yet.

warnings & contents: heavy angst, our sweetpea is hurt; suicide trigger/thoughts; implied severe depression; assumed older Leon; implied military training on the reader; more hurt than comfort; mentions of death and violence, and blood; could be read as age gap but could be none; the reader could be of any gender; there's light at the end of the tunnel.

a/n: I was craving some angst but didn't plan it to go that far; oh well. Our sweet boy deserves all the happiness though—but author is a bitch. Also, I don't believe Leon would be seriously considering harming himself, but I do believe that he's an empathetic human being kidnapped in his youth to do a shitty job, so there could be a moment of weakness; otherwise, “we owe it to the people who died alongside us, so we have to continue living.” As always, proceed at your own risk. DNI minors & if mentions of suicide affect you. This is a work of fiction and shouldn't be used as guidance on how to behave in similar sensitive situations. Masterlist

***

Leon rubbed his hands under the hot tap forcefully, willing to wash off the blood; the water coming off his fingers was clean for a while, but he seemed not to notice it—after all, there was always blood on his hands, whether others could see it or not. The man only stopped when the touch started to hurt, his abused skin red from friction.

“Shit,” Leon grunted under his breath and turned off the faucet angrily, his breathing ragged. Others might say that it was adrenaline still rushing through his veins, but he knew it wasn’t it. For how long he’s done this job, he was past the prolonged adrenaline rush a while ago. Leon put his palm over his forehead, barely covering his exhausted eyes; his hands slightly shaking.

How many more people had to die before this shit would end?

He remembered them all, those he couldn’t save, and he only kept counting. Leon knew he wasn’t supposed to—saving ordinary folk was a luxury in his position—but it was hard for him to accept who he had become. The extensive bathroom mirror in front of him, he couldn’t level his gaze to take a look at himself, and when he did, his teeth clenched, and his glance shot into the corner of the reflection—there was his essential gear, a pistol and a knife, thoughtlessly dropped on the bathroom floor.

Suddenly, he felt exhausted. A carnal thought made him blush in a fever—wouldn’t it be so easy? Leon was never the type to look for easy ways out—but he was only of flesh and blood, too; isn't he only human? Despite what reports said about him always being “the survivor” and “the golden boy.” Screw the odds.

He picked up his gear from the floor, his palm sliding across the pistol barrel. Leon counted the bullets left in the magazine with another hand, pulling it back into the grip compartment right after; his facial expression was unreadable, deprived of emotion. In moments like this, the man wasn't sure if he could feel anything anymore.

Wouldn't it be so easy, after all? Maybe after that, he'll be able to wake up from this bloody nightmare.

Consumed by his thoughts, he didn't hear how the keys screeched in the lock of the apartment door, and you came in.

You noticed his jacket on the hanger, and your eyebrows shot to your forehead in surprise.

“Leon?” you called to him, dropping bags full of groceries next to the kitchen island; your body tensed in anticipation. You didn't expect him so early. After his assignments, he usually barged in the middle of the night and not in the light of day. You didn't complain, though. You missed him.

You gently knocked on the bathroom door when you heard muffled sounds from another side. “Hey,” your voice was calm and soothing. “Can I come in? Do you need help?” At this point, you got used to his bruises and stitches, caring only about him getting back home in one piece.

There was something more to his injuries this time.

“Shit,” Leon cursed under his breath again when you stepped into the bathroom, despairing of getting a word out of him. You were worried; he could see it on your face. You quickly noticed his scalded hands, the right one behind his back, hiding something. He looked like a curious teenager who got caught watching adult movies.

“Hey,” his lips stretched into an unnatural smile. “Sorry, I didn't hear you come in…”

“You should've called me,” you scolded him calmly, making a step forward. His body tensed and froze as soon as you stretched your hand toward him, and you held back a frown. “…I would’ve been home in a heartbeat.”

The man’s eyes were bloodshot, his lips chapped, and his breath ragged; and then you saw it—the reflection in the mirror betraying him—his long fingers clinging to the gun. Your mouth went agape, and you dashed forward with a precision of a trained police officer.

“Give it to me,” you hissed, your heart beating in your throat. You were scared—you haven't been that afraid of in ages. Leon gasped, bamboozled, and his hand easily let go of a weapon. You didn’t ask—you slapped him across the face, letting your frustration out. “Are you mad? What were you going to do with this thing?”

You would react differently if he wasn’t hiding it; somehow this bothered you more than anything. After all, Leon should’ve known that you wouldn’t fumble at the sight of a gun, which made his attempts to cover its presence even more pointless.

His cheeks flushed, and he gulped, incapable of looking at you; he was confirming your worst fears, and after giving him a long stare, your hand covered your mouth to stop you from sobbing.

“Moron,” you grunted under your breath. His head got even lower, and you saw a tear falling onto the lightly colored tile. It took you a moment before you grabbed him into an angry, desperate embrace. His hands wrapped around your waist, then one shot into your hair, pressing at the back of your head, pulling you closer. His face was buried into your neck, and his body shook violently as he let himself cry.

You held him painfully close as long as it was necessary. “I am sorry,” you whispered next to his ear while he clung to you like a drowning man to a lifeboat; you sounded hurt and angry—and hopeful. “I am so, so sorry.”

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hades-in-bloom · 9 months

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MASTERLIST

Thanks y’all for reading, sweethearts! Minors, lovies, please DNI – all’s 18+, whether fluff or not.

Leon S. Kennedy [Resident Evil] 🩵 babygirl

Silver Fox: drabble [leon kennedy x reader; man’s getting his first white hair]

Al Dente: drabble [leon kennedy x reader; a big scary federal agent can’t nail cooking pasta]

Shower Thoughts: drabble [leon kennedy x reader; he got home after yet another soul-crashhing mission early]

Quit: drabble [leon kennedy x reader; problem solving for panic attacks took unexpected turn]

Scars: drabble [leon kennedy x reader; thinking of his scars]

‘Till Death Do Us Part: pt 1, pt 2 [leon kennedy x reader; he didn’t show up to his own wedding, albeit having a solid excuse]

A Swim: one shot [leon kennedy x interpol!reader; our favourite drunkard got bothered on self-indulgent vacation]

But First, Coffee: one shot [post-di!leon kennedy x corp exec!reader; leon is after his next target when he encounters a not-so-cooperative informant]

Astarion Ancunin [Baldur’s Gate 3] 💜 🩸

The Bigger Person: drabble [astarion x dark urge; was tending seven thousand spawns in the Underdark something he truly wanted to do with his freedom?]

Bitten Lips: double drabble [two different scenarios with astarion x tav and astarion x dark urge, featuring bitten lips]

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hades-in-bloom · 9 months

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Al Dente

Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

summary: he might be of Italian descent, but he still can’t nail cooking pasta.

warnings & contents: assumed older Leon, but could be of any period; assumed age gap, but could be none; reader could be of any gender; fluff with attitude and smth that could be considered a prelude with grabbing and kisses; mentions of drinking; no pasta recipes, really, just stupid banter; a little bit of manhandling

a/n: am not Italian, so please let me know if I’ve committed any blasphemy. Also, this is one silly piece of writing because I’m de-stressing and can’t write anything serious, but am also obsessed with Leon tapping into his Italian descent. As always, proceed with caution and at your own risk; minors DNI! Masterlist

***

‘Oh, I swear…’ Leon mumbled, taking a look into the deep cylindrical pot that was cooking on the stove; the water boiling merrily. Kennedy sighed; he got distracted for a few minutes while taking a call from D.S.O.—which seemed enough for a batch of pasta to turn into goo.

Again.

Leon huffed out a bad word, lifted the pot from the heat, and dropped it straight into the sink without any attempt to retrieve its doughy contents. The man cracked open another beer bottle and took a sip, visibly consumed with heavy thoughts; the number of beers had perfectly correlated with the number of unsuccessfully cooked batches of pasta. Although Leon has never encouraged food waste, this time the big and scary D.S.O. agent refused to give up, steadily losing his sobriety with each try.

You watched him suffer for quite a while, half through the bottle of wine yourself—because grabbing popcorn would be too obvious and undoubtedly rude, although the show was getting more entertaining by the minute; Leon’s frustration was evident.

‘How’s it going?’ you hummed from behind his back. You did your best to hide your smirk.

Leon groaned. He knew you were having a laugh; who wouldn't in that situation, anyway.

‘I’d rather shoot a horde of zombies,’ Kennedy mumbled. He took another sip of his beer and hummed, assessing the situation. ‘Also, I'm running out of pasta.’

You were convinced he deserved the roast; however, his genuinely concerned facial expression made you chuckle.

‘Should we take a break?’ you tilted your head slightly, watching his reaction.

‘We?’ Leon raised his eyebrow, giving you a side-eye. ‘I am getting tortured. What exactly are you doing?’

You thought about it briefly; took a sip from your wine glass.

‘I guess I should be qualified as moral support?’ you assumed.

Leon scoffed, then couldn’t hold back a chuckle. He turned around, facing you; his eyes trained on your features then.

‘I bet you don’t know how to cook a proper al dente either.’

‘You bet?’ wine was your liquid courage, so you might have been too venturesome at that moment. Neither of you complained, though. The man of the hour was intrigued. ‘What if I were to cook you the nicest al dente pasta you’ve ever eaten, Kennedy?’

Scott snorted in a friendly manner and folded his arms over his chest.

‘Ever eaten is a bold claim, sweetheart,’ he teased, his smile growing wider. ‘My family were immigrants from Italy, you know that, right?’

You shrugged his comment off light-heartedly.

‘If I lose, I lose, right? And you could claim your prize,’ you smirked. Oh, you had no doubts he was interested.

His gaze bore into yours for a second; then his features relaxed, although you still could see his shoulders tense—you let it slip.

‘Alright, go forth and forward,’ he smirked; his stare spoke volumes. ‘I will start thinking of what you owe me in return when you screw it up.’

You quickly cleaned up the kitchen countertop, allowing clean water to boil one more in the cooking pot while you measured two portions of store-bought pasta.

Leon watched your actions over your shoulder before you felt his large palms on your hips.

‘Nicely done,’ he murmured from under your earlobe.

You knew he wouldn't be able to play fair; he wasn't big on losing, whether major or minor—and you cooking pasta al dente better than him, taking into account his heritage, was a below-the-belt insult to him. Thus, he didn't mind deploying desperate measures.

‘That’s cheating, Kennedy,’ you muttered, putting the batch of pasta into the pot.

‘I don't remember me touching you being against whatever rules,’ he hummed, placing his lips on your neck. Your heartbeat fastened. ‘Fairly, I don't remember us discussing any rules.’

‘You’ll regret it when I win,’ you claimed. Leon glanced into your pot once again. ‘A couple of minutes more…’ You hummed.

‘How do you know the perfect timing?’ he moaned into your ear. You smirked.

‘Who knows, maybe it would be awful…’ you teased, and he shook his head.

‘No, it won’t,’ Leon concluded quickly and, by lifting you up, grabbed you onto his shoulder. You squealed, losing the ground from under your feet, and clung onto his t-shirt from the back in an attempt to keep your balance.

‘Oh, you fiend!’ you watched him turn off the stove before dragging you into the bedroom. ‘That was our dinner!’

‘I think you're right—we should take a break; maybe, we could order pizza…’ he hummed. You groaned in response, helplessly hanging from his height, his hand holding you tight right under your asscheeks.

Leon let you slide from his shoulder onto the mattress in the bedroom, hovering over you in the next second. His lips barely touched yours when he smirked and watched you blush then.

‘…after I finish with the appetizer.’

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