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latolover · 4 days

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PUPPY OBSESSION V

Yandere Leon Kennedy x Reader

Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV — Part V

Y’all wanted it, so y’all got it. Thank you for being so patient and waiting an entire fucking year (Christ, has it really been that long??). And so — without further ado — I hope you enjoy part 5 of this quirky series, tee hee.

This is in HC format.

The reader is gender neutral.

Contains: feelings of paranoia, being hunted, deliberations on murder, Stockholm syndrome if you squint.

↳ ༉‧₊ You woke up to the worst pain in your life.

And that’s no exaggeration, either.

Your legs felt like they were splintering at the bone, and your cheeks stung of tiny cuts. Not to mention your aching joints and muscles.

After a while, however, you managed to sit upright without falling flat back on the ground. And that’s when you decided to assess your current situation;

You had no idea where the fuck you were.

It was morning, at least, so you were able to see the tall trees that surrounded your battered form. The only thing you could hear were the soft chirps of distant birds.

Lost in a forest, you noted. So, escaping WASN’T just a dream…

Part of you wanted to rejoice at this revelation. You were finally free; free from him. After being in that basement for god knows how long, you escaped..!!

But another part of you knew it wasn’t that simple.

You knew he was coming after you. Hell, he was probably searching all night, and even still searching. There’s no way he would just let you hit him with a vase, jump through a window, and disappear into the woods.

You might’ve escaped, but you quite literally weren’t out of the woods yet.

Which is why you found yourself struggling to your feet. It hurt like a bitch (maybe jumping out of a window was a bad idea), but the remaining adrenaline of the night before — mixed with your unwavering determination — got you standing in no time.

If you wanted to remain free, you had to keep moving.

It was the only way.

↳ ༉‧₊ Walking through the woods was a nightmare in itself.

And it wasn’t because your legs ached with every step. Well, that might’ve been part of it, but it definitely was the least of your worries.

Every single sound you heard — every snap of a twig or crunch of a leaf — sent waves of terror through your body. For all you knew, any of those sounds could’ve been him.

God, what if he was following you from a distance? Carefully watching until you took a rest, which would be the perfect moment for him to catch you off guard?

Then again, he probably wouldn’t be patient enough for that. If he saw you, he’d probably waste no time in tackling you or something.

A shiver went up your spine, though you didn’t know if it was the chilly morning air or the thought of him charging at you…

All the more reason to keep moving, you told yourself.

But… moving towards where?

These woods were unfamiliar to you, and you weren’t sure if Leon had neighbors in the woods.

Maybe you could find a nearby town? Or a campsite of some sort? Even a highway would be good enough.

Whatever was closest, you’d find a way to work with it.

Anywhere that wasn’t near him was like heaven, after all.

↳ ༉‧₊ The woods seemed to go on for hours.

And, admittedly, it probably did.

You had no idea how long you were walking for. But the sun was right above your head, meaning it was almost likely around noontime.

Though your rumbling stomach was really the only indication you needed for the time…

Okay, you had to admit; your escape wasn’t so well-thought out. You were so hung up on the actual escape part that you didn’t really think about what would happen afterwards. And that was really evident in your lack of food… which is kind of important for survival.

Maybe I should’ve taken a bit longer to plan…

You shook the thought from your head. There was no way you would spend anymore time in that place. If you had to sleep one more night with him, you might’ve lost it.

… Though, maybe you already have lost it.

Even so, you still had to keep moving. No matter how tired your pained legs were, you had to keep looking for something. There was no time for a break; you couldn’t take a break.

↳ ༉‧₊ Your body, however, had other plans.

By the time the sky was a brilliant orange color, you were practically crawling on the forest floor.

You bitterly thought about how pathetic you must’ve looked; wrinkled clothing caked in mud, dirt underneath your fingernails, hands clawing into the earth to drag the rest of your body forward…

And it didn’t help that your stomach was rumbling louder than you would’ve preferred…

Or that your throat felt so dry…

However, your luck seemed to be turning around a bit when your ears picked up on a soft, trickling, gushing noise.

Water.

The thought of a river or stream nearby motivates you enough to shakily get off of the ground, your legs stumbling towards the promising sounds of nice, cold water.

It didn’t take long before you managed to find yourself on a riverbank, jagged pebbles crunching under your feet as you lurched towards the clear and glittering water.

You wasted no time in cupping your hands and plunging them into the river. The cool water felt refreshing against your hands, creating a soothing ripple effect across your entire aching body.

Was this water clean? Probably not. God knows what nasty particles were swimming around in this unfiltered river water, and you did not want to know where this water was coming from.

But none of that stopped you from bringing your hands up to your lips and gulping it down.

You repeated this action about 5 or 6 times, the cool water doing good to quench your thirst. Despite the earthy taste — and the overwhelming flavor of straight-up river — it was probably the best water you’ve had in a while.

↳ ༉‧₊ It was then that you decided to take a break for the rest of the night.

The sun was barely peeking behind the tree line at this point, and wandering in the dark wasn’t going to do you any favors.

Besides, that little voice in the back of your head that was pleading for you to rest was getting on your nerves.

You cupped some water into your hands once more to splash your face, effectively removing whatever dirt and grime you had collected. The cold liquid against your skin made you feel much more rejuvenated than when you initially woke up.

You also took the time to dip your sore feet into the river to provide some sense of relief. A sigh of relief was pulled from your lips as you looked up to the darkening sky.

Why did it have to be you? Why did this sick fuck have to destroy everything — your promising career, your general sense of safety, your entire life — all because of his borderline psychotic obsession?

Did you piss off whatever god was out there so badly that they decided to punish you like this? Did they create Leon Kennedy to be your own personal demon? Someone that would latch himself onto you like a parasite and drain you of everything you loved?

I... I have to make you love me, his twisted voice echoed in your head. I— I need to make you love me… pl— please— please love me…

Love me…

A distant twig snapping made your shoulders jolt.

↳ ༉‧₊ It was him.

There was something about the way a shiver ran up your spine that made you know.

He was somewhere nearby.

So, as quietly as you could manage, you pulled your feet out from the river and frantically scanned your surroundings.

There was a thick, good-sized tree with a bush next to it that would (hopefully) provide adequate cover should he look your way. Hiding from him made you feel pathetic — you were supposed to be an officer; someone who was fearless and brave — but you had no idea what he was armed with.

Or if he minded cuddling with a dead body.

That’s why you darted towards the tree. You paid extra mind towards the dead leaves on the ground, making sure not to create any sound that would alert him, as you dove behind your makeshift cover.

It was quiet for a few moments. The only sound you could hear was the trickling body of water next to you, and you were starting to doubt yourself.

Maybe it wasn’t him after all…

But another twig snapped — sounding much closer than before — and your stomach dropped completely.

Crunch… crunch… crunch… crunch…

You could hear dead leaves being stepped on by careful feet, getting louder and louder by the second. Your head carefully peaked out from behind the tree and bush as you silently prayed for it to be someone else; anyone else.

But, of course, fate never worked in your favor.

When he came into your field of vision, you had to fight your initial urge to bolt the other direction. But you knew better than to give away your location and have him chase you in your current state.

So, instead, you took notice of his current state.

He was still in his RPD uniform, though it was caked in mud and dirt. His hair was sporting a similar grimy look with dirty blonde strands poking every which way.

You weren’t close enough to admire him in full detail, but you did manage to catch the cuts that littered his face.

As well as the good-sized chunk of porcelain that was embedded in his forehead.

A dark part of your mind felt satisfied at this.

↳ ༉‧₊ Fortunately for you, he didn’t seem to notice your hiding spot.

You watched him slowly the riverbank, most likely trying to pick up on any signs that you were at least nearby.

It felt like hours passed before his head lowered towards the river. His shoulders hitched upwards before sagging downwards; you guessed it was from him heaving a sigh.

Maybe that means he’s given up, you thought. Or at least moving on to a new area.

But any hope of that went out the window when he suddenly dropped to his knees, his hands clutching at the pebbles on the riverbank.

You weren’t expecting him to do that, which is probably why you felt your entire body flinch. Your eyes narrowed as you watched him intently.

What is he doing?

Your question was quickly answered by the front sniffling noises that filled the evening air. Leon’s entire body seemed to tremble as the sniffling turned into full-on sobs.

He was crying.

Of course. Just your luck to have him come to the exact same area you’re in… just to cry.

All you could do was uncomfortably watch him wail into his hands, his body curling into itself.

“… (Y/N),” you could faintly hear him whimper. “(Y/N)… wh-where are you?!”

The way he sobbed out your name crawled underneath your skin, sending a deep chill up your back.

He reminded you of a lost child crying out for his parents…

Except this lost child needs to fuck off, you mentally spat out.

In between his hiccups, you could hear those disgusting I love you’s he would mumble into your ear. The ones that would haunt you during the night, or when he was away at work.

“I… love y-you… I-I love you…”

“I love you…”

It would always roll off of his lips like a prayer.

His wailing soon turned into soft whimpers, which then turned into soft sniffles. What felt like an eternity of his cries piercing your ears was finally over.

He looked as though he was asleep.

Find a rock, a dark corner of your mind screamed. Find a rock that’s big enough to crush his skull in.

Killing him… that was…

Well…

You couldn’t explain it, but something about that idea just didn’t sit right with you.

Which was absolutely crazy to you; this was the guy that stalked you, broke into your house, kidnapped you, kept you in his basement for god knows how long, and tried force his twisted romantic fantasies onto you.

A psycho like him deserves to die, that dark voice reasoned with you.

But…

Maybe it was some sense of morality that was holding you back. To kill another human, well, is a crime. Leon is a piece of shit, but murdering him wouldn’t make you any better. As much as part of you thought he deserves death, you knew it wasn’t up to you to make that call. If anything, if he deserved anything, it was professional help (in a nice padded room far away from you, might you add).

Even so, the dark voice was persistent.

Kill him. He’s done nothing but make your life a living hell. He’s practically hunting you down, for fucks sake, and he won’t stop until he has you again.

And if that ever happens…

God, what would he even do to you?

↳ ༉‧₊ You found yourself in a moral dilemma.

The night was upon you, and Leon remained asleep on the riverbank.

It would be an easy kill, you mused to yourself. If you were quiet enough, you could pick up a rock, sneak up on him, and hit him as hard as you could. Over and over and over again.

But… what if he woke up? What if he managed to grab the rock from your hands, or heard you approach him to begin with? Would you win that fight? Would you be able to outrun him?

And… more importantly… would you have enough willpower to strike him in the first place?

Surely, you would, right? This man is terrible. All of your rage should be bubbling towards the surface, giving you the strength to cave his fucking face in.

But something was holding you back. You didn’t know what it was, but it somehow trumped over your anger and caused anxiety to claw at your mind.

Kill him… kill him… kill him…!!

You felt your hands trembling as you stared down at them.

I… I can’t…

It just wasn’t right. Leon was fucked up in the brain, sure, but should he really die because of it? In his sleep, no less?

It might not be right, but it might be the only way you can get the hell out of here.

So…

↳ ༉‧₊ What is your plan of action?

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latolover · 4 days

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ANON ASKS:

We need a part 4 of puppy Obsession, seriously it's way too good

Y’all are OBSESSED.

But it’s okay, ‘cuz I am too, LMAO.

Yandere Leon Kennedy x Officer Reader

This is in HC format.

The reader is gender neutral.

Content warning: Kidnapping, delusional behavior, mentions of force feeding, slight temper issues, dread, falling through windows.

ARCHIVED POST. @clusterfuck-yandere IS MY NEW BLOG.

PLEASE DO NOT SEND REQUESTS ON THIS BLOG.

— You woke up in an unfamiliar room.

The walls were unpainted and the floor was concrete.

Other than the mattress you were on, the room was empty and the stairs leading up to the only exit looked old.

Were you in a basement..?

You suddenly remembered the events that happened… hours before?

How long it’s been didn’t really matter to you.

What did was that the last face you saw was Leon Kennedy’s.

The last thing he said to you echoed in your mind.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…. I’m…”

Panic began to ebb at your chest.

This was his doing, wasn’t it?

He knocked you out (as apparent by the gash on the crook of your neck) and took you to a secondary location.

Maybe his own house?

With shaky legs, you got up from the mattress and crossed your arms for heat.

God, it’s cold down here.

Before you could start making your way over to the stairs, the door flew open.

The sudden movement and loud bang it created made you jump.

Leon’s head popped through the door way, eyes wide in his own sort of panic, but then immediately relaxed when he saw you.

“(Y/N)!!”

The cheerful tone of his voice made you sick.

He stumbled down the stairs after taking the time to close the door behind him. It was like he was in a hurry to reach you (adding to your wave of sickness).

“I missed you so much,” he whined, pulling you into a bone crushing hug. “You we’re still asleep when I had to go to work, and I didn’t want to leave you, but I had to, and… and…”

You stood there stuff as a board as he started to sniffle.

Was he seriously going to cry?

Willing to do anything but awkwardly stand in his arms as he cried, you decided to ask more important questions. “Leon… where am I?”

His glossy eyes took a confused look; like the answer was obvious and you should know.

“Home.”

— You’re not allowed to leave the basement.

After initially waking up, you pleaded that he let you go.

“Leon, please… let me go back home..!”

“(Y/N), you are home!”

He brings you breakfast and dinner every day, usually consisting of big platters.

At first, you didn’t eat these meals.

What if he did something to them..?

But Leon noticed you weren’t eating very quickly.

“Do you feel sick? Come on, (Y/N), you have to eat..!”

It didn’t take long before he started to force feed you.

“I don’t want you going hungry,” he’d say as he shoves a piece of bread down your throat.

(At least you found out the food wasn’t poisoned or anything.)

Escape seems very slim, since the only door there has some sort of lock on the outside.

It just won’t budge, much to your despair.

And it only opens when Leon’s home…

No matter how much you begged him to let you go, he was adamant on keeping you here.

“You kept running away from me… I… I didn’t like that…”

So, the solution in his mind was to kidnap you and bring you to his own home.

So he could stare at you…

Follow you…

Sleep next to you…

All in one place.

You can’t run anymore.

He’s quite literally cornered you.

— He’s always in the basement with you.

As soon as work is over, he’ll run down the stairs and act like he hasn’t seen you in ages.

“(Y/N)!! I missed you!!”

It’s very common to see him a bit teary eyed as he holds you in his arms.

He’ll lay you both down on the mattress, inhaling your scent like a drug.

And he doesn’t even take the time to change out of his uniform…

The two of you will lay down for hours until he goes upstairs for a bit.

Then he comes back downstairs in his nightwear and lays down for bed.

And, of course, he’s got you trapped in his arms.

“I love you,” he’ll mumble. “I love you so much…”

It’s like his prayer at night.

The adoration in his tone makes you squirm.

He always has his hands on you when he’s there.

Hugging you, playing with your hair, a firm grasp on your wrist, you just can’t weasel out of his touch.

Any time you do, he just pulls you into him further.

“Stop moving so much,” he giggles.

It’s like he doesn’t even realize you’re trying to escape him…

And the staring.

God, the staring.

The thing that was your first red flag since the start of this nightmare.

His eyes are now on you every waking hour.

And he can afford to do that now, too.

You’ve gotten used to it, but it still creeps you out when you look over and see him just… staring.

Staring with that lovesick look in his eyes.

It’s as if he’s…

“A lovesick puppy.”

Just like some of the other officers told you at work.

— Making you love him is his top priority.

That’s why he gets upset when you show even the slightest bit of resistance.

Maybe you flinched when he took a step towards you.

Or pushed him away when he hugged you.

Or called him sick when he offered to bathe you.

“… You don’t love me…” he’ll whimper out as if he just realized it. “You don’t… why… why don’t you love me?!”

His brows will furrow together and his fists will clench.

“WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME?!”

Was he expecting an answer from you?

“Leon… kidnapping someone isn’t going to make them love you…”

He seems to consider your words.

“… Make…” he echoed. “Make…”

The dry chuckle that left his throat petrified you.

“I… I have to make you love me… I— I need to make you love me…” he sinks down to the floor, head in his hands. “I… need you to love me… pl— please love me… love me, love me, love me—”

He’ll then lunge for you.

“LOVE ME!! I… I’VE DONE EVERYTHING FOR YOU!! GOD, WHY WON’T YOU LOVE ME?!”

He’s got you pinned to the mattress, his head on your shoulder.

“Please… please… I love you so much… I love you— I-I love you!! I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you—”

You never say you love him.

You only awkwardly pet his hair, in fear of him doing something drastic…

— Your questions about the outside world are always ignored.

Anytime you ask, he acts like he didn’t hear you.

“Has anyone noticed I’ve been missing?”

He only snuggles in closer to you.

“Have I even been reported as missing?”

He begins to draw circles into your shoulder.

“What about work?”

He starts to get an irritated look on his face.

“Leon, answer me!”

“They’ll take you away from me,” he finally snaps. “I don’t want that to happen!”

Though it didn’t exactly answer your question, you could feel your stomach drop at his words.

“Someone’s going to start looking for me,” you threatened in a low tone.

He gives a blissful sigh. “No… no, they won’t…”

And, as the days go by, you start to believe that he’s right.

— He gives you gifts a lot.

Trinkets, flowers, chocolates, you name it.

He’s doing what he can to get you to love him.

Something that became very common after his first temperamental episode is him returning to work with a giddy smile on his face and a gift in his hand.

God, you’d think he’s a dog retrieving things for his owner…

Unsure, you’ll take the gift and look at it.

“Do you like it?? I picked it out just for you!”

A plastered smile will find its way on your face as you nod.

“I knew you would,” he cheers. “I love you so much!”

He’ll also begin to get you clothing as well.

While you’re grateful to finally have a change of clothes, it comes with the price of him… well… trying to bathe you.

“Leon, I can do it myself!!”

“But I wanna help…”

By the grace of god, you manage to convince him to to stay outside of the bathroom (after he carried you upstairs and you debated on making a break for it).

The bathroom is small and doesn’t have any windows to escape from, and he seemed to take the precaution of hiding away anything sharp or heavy.

You doubted hitting him with a shampoo bottle was going to work.

So, with a sigh of defeat, you began to get into the tub.

Washing yourself felt therapeutic, since you hadn’t done it in forever.

It was also a few relaxing moments to yourself without your captor crushing you in his arms.

Meaning you could plan your escape without distractions.

That sicko closes the basement door as soon as he opens it.

So… what if you wait right at the top of the stairs?

But he would probably grab you before you could slip around him…

That meant you needed something to surprise him with…

You were about to look around the bathroom again for something, anything, you could take without him noticing —

— until you saw Leon’s head poking through the door, staring at you.

“JESUS CHRIST,” you yelped.

That man has no sense of privacy…

— You requested flower vases.

You just wanted to decorate the room better, that’s all.

And what better way to do that than to showcase the flowers he would constantly give you?

… The half-dead, wilting flowers?

(Anytime you inquired if he was ever going to throw the dead ones away, he would look offended.)

(“Those are my gifts to you, (Y/N)! I would never!”)

Surely, he would comply with your request, right?

As it turns out, he actually did.

“Of course! I’ll pick some up after work tomorrow!”

Sure enough, he did.

A few big vases for the giant bouquets and a few small vases for the flowers he picked himself.

He even got you some fresh daffodils.

After watching you place your flowers around the basement, he pulled you into his lap.

“It looks great, (Y/N)!”

You gave him one of your fake smiles as he rubbed his cheek against your neck.

I just have to endure this hellhole a little longer…

— You prepared everything as soon as he left for work the next day.

He was working from 8 to 7 — you knew that — but that didn’t stop you from getting ready.

This was it.

This was the day you were escaping.

So, you emptied one of the vases of its flowers and practiced swinging it.

Different styles were attempted; you could uppercut him, smack him sideways, kick him and then hit him…

But you decided the most effective way was to just hit him on top of the head and run for it.

You might’ve looked a bit silly doing nothing but swinging an empty vase around.

But there was only one shot at taking him by surprise.

You had to make it count.

Dread built up in your chest as the hours passed by.

What if it didn’t work?

What if you missed his head and he recovers from the initial shock?

What if knows what’s your planning and is prepared?

No, you scolded yourself. This was going to work. This HAD to work.

A shaky breath left your lips.

He was due to be home any minute now.

You crept up the old stairs and stopped at the last step.

The vase you held in your iron grip trembled as you tried to keep your hands still.

Adrenaline made your heart thump in your ears.

You were getting out of here.

Even if the plan didn’t play out like you wanted it to, you were gonna fight tooth and nail to escape.

Besides, you didn’t train at the police academy for nothing.

The sound of a jingling lock made your heart rate spike; there he was.

He was home.

3…

You lifted the vase.

2…

It was now or never.

1…

The door swung open.

When his surprised face came into your field of vision, you slammed the vase down on his head.

And then you ran.

Not taking time to notice how the glass shattered into pieces or your captor’s grunt of pain, you shoved him out of the way and ran like a bat out of hell.

You bolted down the halls as your eyes scanned for an exit. A front door, a back door, an open widow for fuck’s sake, anything.

“(Y/N)!!”

Oh, fuck.

Heavy footsteps got louder, and you feared you wouldn’t be able to open the front door in time before he grabbed you.

So, you zipped up the staircase and hid in one of the rooms.

It was a dumb idea; you knew it was a dumb idea.

But what else could you do?

“(Y/N)…!! (Y/N), WHERE ARE YOU?!”

You quickly looked around the room to see that it had a window.

As quietly as you could, you rushed over to it and began to pull it open.

Comeoncomeoncomeoncomeon—

You almost sobbed in relief when it was wide enough for your body to fit through.

But the drop…

It looked so far down…

2 stories looked a lot scarier when planning to actually jump.

What if you landed on your head or broke your neck?

ThumpthumpthumpTHUMPTHUMP.

“(Y/N)—? NO!!”

Fuck it.

You swallowed down your fears and jumped out before he could grab you.

The fall down was only 3 to 4 seconds long, which gave you little time to tighten your muscles and prepare for impact.

Hitting the ground hurt like hell and it knocked the wind out of your lungs.

In fact, you lungs felt like they were crushed.

But you remembered to cover your head, and the worst of the pain was mostly your feet and ankles.

Even so, it still took you a couple seconds before you could even move.

I lived, you cried out in your mind. Holy shit, I LIVED.

As miraculous as it sounded, you survived the fall.

Tears of relief almost began to pour down your face. A grateful sob left your lips (though it might’ve been a sob of pain) and you felt the urge to kiss the ground.

But it wasn’t time to celebrate just yet.

“(Y/N)!! OH MY GOD!! (Y/N)!!!”

You managed to look up to see Leon staring out the window, a horrified expression on his face.

He seemed to be debating on jumping out the window himself.

However, decided against it and quickly disappeared from sight.

He was coming after you.

You had to run.

Getting up was a pain in the ass; you wouldn’t be surprised if you broke a bone or two.

But you managed to crawl to your feet and stumble across the backyard.

You told yourself you were going to get out of here, and you damn well meant it.

Adrenaline was your only energy source at that point as you pushed yourself past trees and dead logs.

Running as fast as your throbbing legs would allow, you weaved through the woods.

Branches hit your broken form and leaves cut your cheeks, but you could barely feel the pain in your panicked state.

Over the logs, cut through the bushes, duck under that branch.

Those were the only thoughts that filled your mind.

You didn’t know how long you were running, but it was nightfall by the time you tripped over a lifted tree root and fell to the ground.

Get up, you told yourself. Come on, get up!!

But your body wouldn’t listen.

It was too exhausted to move.

So, you let your eyes flutter closed, hoping he wouldn’t find you tonight…

490 notes · View notes

latolover · 4 days

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ANON ASKS:

I binge read your Puppy Obsession with Leon and i am HOOKED! if its not much trouble, would you do a pt 3? cant get enough honestly 🍄🍄

If Leon Kennedy doesn’t become the poster boy for this blog, I’m suing.

I’d also like to take the time to thank everyone for your support! I’m glad you guys really like my stories, and I’ll be sure to continue writing!

Yandere Leon Kennedy x Officer Reader

This is in HC format.

The reader is gender neutral.

Content warning: Excessive stalking, paranoia, dread, breaking and entering, obsessive behavior, Leon being Leon, being rendered unconscious.

ARCHIVED POST. @clusterfuck-yandere IS MY NEW BLOG.

PLEASE DO NOT SEND REQUESTS ON THIS BLOG.

— After that night, you decided to pack your things.

You just didn’t feel safe staying in your own home anymore.

Food, clothing, electronics, pistol, gear, and…

You noticed your tooth brush was damp from recent usage.

… Maybe a new toothbrush.

After checking that you had everything, you got in your car and headed to the nearest motel.

You kept checking your backseat, the rear view mirror, even the pedestrians you drove by.

There’s no way in hell you were taking any more chances.

The motel conditions weren’t the best — there was the feint smell of cigarettes and you didn’t dare think about what that substance on the couch is — but at least you were guaranteed safety for a while.

You stayed in your room for the entire day, constantly checking the windows, bathroom, closet, and under the bed (you learned your lesson) every 10 minutes or so.

Every car that passed by on the road caused your heart to jump, and every car that actually pulled into the motel pumped adrenaline into your veins.

The occasional footsteps that you heard outside your room made you clench your pistol tighter.

It was another sleepless night for you.

— You practically begged your fellow officers for patrol duty over the phone in the morning.

The first couple of people you asked turned you down, but you were lucky enough that Officer Ford was willing to switch with you.

“You’re a life saver,” you sighed.

Ford asked you if everything was alright, to which you lied and told him there was nothing to worry about.

“Well… if you say so…”

After he hung up, you sank to the floor.

Now to avoid running into Leon.

You got ready for work and made sure your belongings were secure. If he found a way to break into your room, you didn’t want him going through your stuff again.

Then, making sure the door was locked, you drove to work.

Avoiding Leon wasn’t too hard, much to your relief.

All you had to do was sit far away from him during the briefing, practically sprint to your patrol car, and begin your patrol with Officer Phillips.

“You take patrol a lot, rookie,” she chortled.

“I find it calming,” you shrugged.

That was technically true.

Anywhere without Leon was immediately calming.

When the day was over, you sprinted to your car and drove back to the motel, taking the precautions you took before initially arriving at you temporary home.

You checked to see if anything was out of place. A bit of reassurance was present when you saw everything was right where you left it.

That didn’t stop you from checking the room, though.

You kept looking under the bed, peaking into the closet, searching the bathroom, and peering out the windows for hours.

The clock read 11 pm when you checked the time.

After no evidence of Leon turned up, you sat down on the bed and leaned against the headboard.

He isn’t here, you told yourself. He isn’t here.

You began to audibly mumble that like a prayer.

— You woke up the next morning feeling the slightest bit refreshed.

After what felt like ages, you finally got some rest.

It felt weird. You were so used to your eyes feeling heavy that you forgot what it was like to actually sleep.

There was no doubt in your mind that he was still looking for you, but all that mattered was he hasn’t found you yet.

At least, that’s what you thought.

Because that’s when you noticed the meal laid out for you on the small table.

Store-bought muffins, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, cereal, it was like a buffet.

You knew you didn’t make any of this last night.

And it was all semi warm, meaning it was made recently.

It didn’t take long for you to begin searching the room with your pistol.

Thankfully, you didn’t find him anywhere. He must’ve left a little while before you woke up.

But how the fuck did he get in here without you noticing?

Where you just that tired last night??

The thought of him somehow unlocking the door, sleeping next to you, and making you a meal without waking you up made a shiver travel up your spine.

Lord knows what else he did.

Cursing yourself for sleeping last night, you began to pack your items and load up your car.

The food that was left for you was thrown out (you’d hate to waste a perfectly good meal, but you just didn’t trust it).

You sat in the car for 20 minutes or so (after checking the backseat again), debating on your next move.

Do you relocate to a new motel?

No… what’s the use if he can find you within 24 hours? And would constantly being on the move upset him?

As much as you could care less about his feelings, it’s probably not the smartest idea to upset the guy who keeps finding ways into your house.

You also figured staying with someone else was out of the question for the same reason. What if he assumes things?

Besides, dragging other people into your problems was a dick move.

So, if you can’t switch motels or stay with someone, what now?

— You decided to figure out what to do after work.

Even though you dreaded the idea of seeing Leon’s face, you didn’t want to spend the rest of your career hiding.

Who knows; maybe he has patrol and you’ll get to file reports in peace.

Much to your relief, your hypothesis seemed to be correct. He wasn’t at his desk at all.

The tension from your shoulders seeped out of your muscles as you sat down at your own desk.

Almost an hour passed of you quietly doing your work, and never have you felt so grateful while reading over a complaint about a patrol car’s sirens being “too loud.”

Officer Douglas decided to drop by for a small exchange.

“Gettin’ work done, (L/N).”

You offered a smile. “What can I say? I try.”

He picked up a file and skimmed over the first paper in the stack. “Too bad Kennedy’s not here to help. Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“Isn’t he out patrolling?”

Douglas shook his head. “Nope. Called in sick.”

You felt your stomach drop.

So, he wasn’t here it all.

That meant he was home, right? Trying to recover from whatever sickness he had?

If he even had a sickness..?

The senior officer noticed how shaken you looked. “Everything alright?”

After a few moments, you assured him that you were fine. Just that you “suddenly remembered something.”

He didn’t press further and wished you good luck with your reports.

But barely got any work done after that.

All you could think about was what Leon could possibly be “calling in sick” for.

— You drove back to your own home after work.

As much as you didn’t want to — hell, it made you sick to your stomach just standing on the doormat — you knew you had to.

He was in there.

There was no doubt he was in your home.

So, getting your pistol out, you braced yourself for entry.

This was it.

You were gonna catch him.

And make him leave you alone by force.

Your hand hesitated on the doorknob for several minutes, heart thumping in your ears, before throwing the door open.

Upon entering, you noticed how clean the house looked.

Dishes were cleaned, the floor was vacuumed, the slight scent of air freshener was even present.

Guess you found out the reason why he took a sick day.

Your entire house was spotless. No dirt, no dust, not even a small piece of lint was seen.

When you looked at the windows, however, you found one singular blotchy smudge.

Like someone’s breath was hitting the window.

And it look rather recent.

He was waiting for you.

“Alright,” you called out, checking the (spotless) bathroom with your pistol. “I know you’re here, Leon.”

You got no response, but it’s not like you were expecting one.

“There’s no point in hiding, damnit. Come out and fucking face me.”

The only sound through your home was your own footsteps.

“Wow…” you dryly chuckled. “You’re brave enough to break into my house and sleep next to me. Where did all that confidence go?”

A feint thump that came from your room caused you your body to jolt.

Of course he was in there…

“You know, I can’t but to think… why me?! Why not that pretty redhead who wanted to work for the FBI, or the handsome tall guy with the Caribbean accent?”

Adrenaline caused your heart to pound as you stared at your bedroom door.

“You’re fucking sick, Leon Kennedy. I hope you burn in hell.”

You then kicked the door open.

He wasn’t out in the open, to both your relief and disdain. He was probably hiding under your bed (your neatly made bed, might I add) or in the closet.

God. You didn’t want to check either.

But, gathering your courage, you decided to check the closet first.

The door creaked open as you practically threw it off the wall, and you held your pistol out with a ready trigger finger.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the copious amounts of photos hanging up in it.

“… What the fuck…”

There had to be at least 100, covering the closet from top to bottom. You couldn’t even see the wall behind it all.

Photos of you from the police academy.

Photos of you at the cafe or store.

Photos of you in your car.

Photos of you sleeping.

Photos of you at the motel.

Photos of you in general.

It was getting harder and harder to keep your stomach at bay.

While you were staying at the motel, he made your closet into his own picture gallery. You couldn’t stop staring in horror at this psycho’s creation.

Just as when you were about to tear your eyes away, though, your ears picked up on the slightest creak.

A surprised yell ripped through your throat as you could feel hands grabbing you from behind. You immediately began thrashing and kicking while your body was being pulled against someone’s chest.

“LET ME GO,” you screamed. “LET ME GO!”

Pistol now ripped from your hand, you found yourself trapped under a body as you desperately tried to escape your attacker’s grasp.

“I love you,” that sickening voice cried. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love—”

You managed to punch him in the face and wrestle out of his arms. A whine of pain sounded while you reached for your gun on the ground.

Just as your finger managed to graze it, however, he pulled you by the ankle away from your weapon.

“FUCK,” you hollered, looking back at him. “LET GO, SICK FUCK.”

No matter how much you kicked at his face, his iron grip didn’t release you. You were back in his arms as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t hurt me,” he wailed. “Pl… please don’t… I love you!! I love you, I— I… Please… I love you—!!”

His tears soaked your shirt as you continued to fight against him. “EAT SHIT,” you spat, kicking away from him and slipping out of his grasp.

Before you could get to your feet, Leon quickly reached for your pistol and pointed it at you.

That got you to freeze in your spot.

“D… don’t make me,” he pleaded, tears streaming down his face. “I don’t want to, I don’t want to, I don’t want to— I…”

Deciding it was best to reason with him, you slightly put your hands up. “Then don’t.”

“B… but… y-you’re running away, and—and I don’t want you to— and— god, why don’t you love me?!”

You didn’t know what to say.

However, silence didn’t seem like the right answer. His eyes got dark as he thrusted the gun’s tip at you. “WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME?!”

Was this how you were going to die? In your own home, shot by your own gun?

Would people even know who killed you?

Surely, there’s enough evidence to pin Leon at the scene. His DNA had to be everywhere by now.

Fuck that, you bitterly screamed in your head. I’m not dying here!!

“Leon,” you began, voice shaky and weak, “you made me feel unsafe. You know this is illegal, right?”

His expression was unreadable. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking in that twisted mind of his. “I did it for you,” he whimpered. “I did everything for you… I love you… I… love you…”

“Then don’t shoot,” you coaxed. “Put the gun down if you love me so much.”

More tears poured down him face. The agonizing sobs that came from his throat was almost too much to bare. “O… okay…”

The relief that washed over you when he lowered his gun was euphoric. You almost collapsed to the floor.

He was going to let you live.

Surely, he was.

Maybe he would even let you go if you were lucky.

But, just as the thought crossed your mind, you felt something hard hit the side of your neck.

It knocked the wind out of you and shocked you to the core.

Before you could even process what just happened, your vision began to fade into the darkness.

The last thing you heard before going unconscious was Leon’s babbling and crying.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…. I’m…”

503 notes · View notes

latolover · 4 days

Text

THATGOBLIN ASKS:

I fucking loved that Puppy Obsession for Leon. Would you be willing to do more on that one? Like maybe after they graduate and Leon gets partnered with reader and things escalate to reader thinking they see Leon in their room watching them sleep or things around the house moving or missing to feeling like someone's in bed with them? Feel free to adjust or add to it as necessary foe creativeness!! 🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡

Your Halloween themed hearts please me. I shall tend to this request immediately.

This is also in an alternate setting where Leon’s first day as an officer didn’t get totally fucked over by zombies (though I still think that’s the funniest shit ever. “Hope this is gonna be a great day! Oh, shit. Zombies. What the fuck—”).

Yandere Leon Kennedy x Officer Reader

This is in HC format.

The reader is gender neutral.

Content warning: Stalking, breaking and entering, dread, a discomforting bedmate.

ARCHIVED POST. @clusterfuck-yandere IS MY NEW BLOG.

PLEASE DO NOT SEND REQUESTS ON THIS BLOG.

— You thought the nightmare at the police academy was over.

After 6 months of constantly being paranoid, checking over your shoulder, and changing your locks three times, it was time to graduate.

You couldn’t wait until you were transferred over to a department far away from him.

After talking to every sergeant, you were almost guaranteed to end up in different stations.

Right?

After pulling into the parking lot of the Raccoon Police Department and getting out of your car, you couldn’t help but let breath of air.

This was it.

Your first day of the job.

Though you still felt a bit nervous, they almost took a backseat for the overwhelming relief you felt that he wasn’t here.

When you walked into the building, you were met with congratulations and pats on your shoulder.

“Congrats. (L/N), right?”

“Welcome to the RPD, rookie.”

“You survived training!”

All of their nice words caught you off guard. You weren’t expecting to be so well received.

Sitting down at one of the desks, you waited for the briefing to begin.

About 10 minutes of small talk with senior officers passed before a bit of commotion began.

“Oh, you must be the other rookie! Welcome to the RPD.”

“Congrats on getting through the academy.”

“Aren’t you the one that graduated top 10%? Impressive.”

That caught your attention.

Turning around to see who the other rookie was, your heart dropped to your stomach.

It was him.

Leon Scott Kennedy.

— He somehow managed to transfer to the same police department as you.

You didn’t know how he did, but he was here.

How the fuck…

Did your request mean nothing to the sergeants at the academy?

Or did he somehow manage to talk his way into being transferred with you…

Almost immediately, his eyes found yours.

You wanted to vomit at how they lit up.

After thanking the other officers for their kind words, he plopped down in the vacant seat next to you.

“Officer (L/N),” he giddily greeted.

After a moment of pure panic, you managed to form a tight smile. “Officer Kennedy.”

One outgoing senior officer brought up how she heard the two of you came from the same academy.

Leon answered that you two did before you could even think.

“I’m sure you both are already pretty familiar with each other then,” she mused.

More familiar that I hoped.

Small talk began between her and Leon, leaving you to let the reality of this situation sink in.

You were stuck with Leon Kennedy.

For as long as you worked in Raccoon City, you were stuck with him.

You couldn’t help the feeling of dread that consumed your mind.

— He still continues to stare at you.

It’s practically the academy all over again, only the two of you were actual police officers now.

If you’re going through reports, you can bet his eyes are on you.

And the dreamy sheen they take on causes a shiver to travel up your spine.

“You know, you’ll get through these complaints faster if you actually look at them,” you’ve said on multiple occasions.

He apologizes and looks down at his work, but it only takes a few seconds before his eyes are back on you.

Jesus Christ.

After a while, you’ve just given up.

What’s the point if he never listens to you?

And, of course, he still follows you around.

You keep your belongings close to you at all times just in case he tries to steal anything again.

It doesn’t help that he tries to lend a hand every second of the day, though.

“(L/N), I can help you with tha—” “No.” “… Are you—” “Yes.”

The other officers talk about how cute it is that you have your own lovesick puppy.

If only they know the full extent of the “sick” part of that.

— The only moment of peace you get is when you’re out patrolling.

Rookies have to ride with senior officers, meaning you and Leon couldn’t be in the same patrol car.

You almost praised whatever god was out there at this revelation.

Leon, however, was less thrilled.

You tried to ignore the pity that you felt when you noticed the sad eyes he had (how could you pity the guy who’s the root of your paranoia?).

One senior officer you were paired with brought up how “close” you and Leon seem.

“Guess you could say that,” you dryly scoffed.

— You try to get patrol duty any chance you get.

Almost your entire week was filled with patrol duty at one point.

You’d try to switch out jobs any chance you get.

“Douglas, what do you have next week?” “Patrol duty, mostly—” “Switch schedules with me.”

The chief is very familiar with how often you do this.

“Switching out for patrol duty again?”

Anything to avoid HIM.

Leon takes notice of this as well.

You can tell he’s not happy with it at all.

The senior officers talk about how grumpy he’s been lately.

“It’s almost like he’s waiting for the day to end.”

Which is odd, since Leon’s absolutely dedicated to being a police officer.

— You start to see him outside of work.

After an entire week of patrol duty, you hoped that Leon would get the message and leave you alone.

However, he just found other ways to be near you.

If he can’t at work, why not outside of work?

If you’re sitting at a cafe, you’ll start to get that familiar feeling of being watched.

If you’re out doing some shopping, you’ll “randomly” run into him quite often.

Even where you live, you’ll notice a man with a familiar hat and jacket lingering around.

It’s gotten to the point where you stay home as much as possible.

But you should’ve known that wasn’t enough.

— Things around your home get misplaced.

You didn’t even notice at first, if you were being honest.

The stress of work and your “admirer” distracted you from how your drawers had one less clothing article every couple of days.

Or how your dirty laundry looked as if someone went through it.

Or how your closet had all its contents moved to one side…

After a week or so, however, you began to pick up on these small things.

Did you leave your toothbrush out of the holder?

You didn’t recall making your bed earlier…

Why did you leave a glass of water out before you left?

These strange occurrences became more and more frequent as the weeks went by.

— You began to feel like you’re being watched while you sleep.

It’s something that you’ve tried to ignore, since you think it’s the stress getting to you.

Even so, you still can’t help but look around your room any time you wake up in the middle of the night.

You start dreaming of him standing over your bed, staring down at you.

And once you swore you actually saw him in your room.

But he was gone in a blink of an eye, and you were left to believe it was only a hallucination.

You were just tired. That’s it.

You really needed to catch up on sleep.

Nothing more.

That didn’t stop you from storing your pistol in your nightstand, though.

— Your bed feels… weighted… at night.

This began a couple nights after seeing him in your room.

Though unconscious, you could feel your bed slightly jostle, along with the mattress slightly dipping.

Like something was added to it.

Or someone.

It wasn’t an issue you bothered to be too worried about, though. Maybe you were imagining it?

But the feeling of someone’s eyes burning into your skull felt intensified, despite your attempts to ignore it.

Like the eyes were only a couple inches away from your head…

No. You had to be imagining it.

Stress was getting to you, so of course you were going imagine something like that.

Besides; any time you woke up, no one was in your bed.

Even so, you wanted to make sure.

One night, you decided to fake sleeping to see if you catch him in the act.

An hour went by, and you started to think that there wasn’t anyone sneaking into your bed after all.

The more time that passed, the more you realized just how ridiculous the idea sounded.

Someone breaking into your house? Just to sleep next to you?

Maybe it was time to see a psychiatrist.

You couldn’t help but feel relieved, though. At least this meant you were safe.

That’s when you heard your closet door slightly creak.

You were suddenly frozen solid.

A few moments passed before the creaking of the closet door continued, and you realized something was opening it.

Or someone.

Your ears could barely pick up on the soft footsteps that got closer to your side of the bed.

Then you could feel a pair of eyes on you.

His eyes.

You almost flinched when you felt something against your cheek.

It took a few seconds to recover from the initial shock before you realized what it was;

His hand.

And it was caressing you.

Alarms were going off in your head about how lovingly it felt.

What felt like years was most likely only 30 minutes before he stepped away — almost hesitantly.

You prayed that he was leaving, but your stomach dropped when you felt the bed dip next to you.

He’s been sleeping next to you this entire time.

Or, at least, lying down next to you.

You tried your best to stay perfectly still as his eyes bore into the back of your head.

Just how long did he take to stare at you every night?

And, how long has he been in your closet?

And — probably the most important question — how the hell does he keep getting in your house?

You didn’t get any sleep that night as you felt him lightly play with your hair.

And, when it was morning, he left.

What the fuck were you supposed to do now.

— The next time you came into work, you decided to face him.

It made you sick to your stomach just thinking about laying eyes on him, but it’s not like you have evidence that it was him in your bed.

Hell, you didn’t even see if it was him.

And it sounded a little pathetic that you, a police officer, was considering calling the police.

His eyes immediately lit up when he saw you, making your stomach churn.

“Officer (L/N),” he practically cheered. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you!”

That’s a fucking lie.

But you didn’t want him to know that you knew it was him just yet.

I mean, this guy sneaks into your fucking house at night.

Lord knows what else he’s capable of.

“Officer Kennedy,” you said with a forced smile. “What have you been up to?”

“Work,” he sighed. “There’s been a lot of complaints filed recently.” He then gave a yawn. “It’s really tiring.”

You hummed. “Up to anything outside of work?”

His shoulders tensed a bit. “Um… nothing much. Do you want to help me go through these reports?”

He changed the subject so fast, you barely had time to even process what he said.

“Sure,” you mumbled, sitting down at the desk across from him to lend him a hand. “You look awfully tired. Sure you’re not up to anything?”

“… I have sleeping problems,” he answered after a small pause. “It can be hard to sleep at night.”

“I get that,” you mused, voice laced with fake sympathy as you skimmed over a report. “I’ve actually been having trouble sleeping, too.”

Leon crooked his head to the side. “Nightmares?”

“Something like that,” you scoffed. “I get the feeling that someone’s watching me. And it’s almost every night.”

An unreadable expression flashed across his face. “Really?”

“Yeah. Whatever monster or demon is doing that, I wish it would stop.” You shrugged nonchalantly. “I get at least an hour of sleep every week because of it.”

The guilt that settled onto Leon’s face told you everything you needed to know.

It was him.

Not like there was any doubt, though.

“Sorry to hear that,” he responded in a small tone. “Maybe… maybe you’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

Your heart felt as if a thousand pounds got lifted off of it. Did that mean he was gonna stop?

It was less satisfying than cornering him to admit it, but at least this meant you could quiet literally rest easier in your own house.

“Yeah,” you responded with a hint of genuine relief. “Yeah, maybe.”

— That night, you debated on checking the closet.

Despite it sounding like he was stopping, you were too paranoid to take that chance.

But what stopped you was the thought of him actually being in there.

What happens then? Do you just tell him to leave?

What if he doesn’t leave without a fight?

You decided to take your pistol out from the nightstand, keeping it trained on your closet.

This was it; you were finally going to see if he was there.

After a few deep breaths, you quickly threw the door open.

It was empty.

The relief that washed over your body was euphoric. You almost melted into the floor.

So, you put your pistol back in its place and got ready for bed.

Once you were settled in under your sheets, you felt yourself drifting off.

It was going to be a goodnight’s sleep for once. No need for paranoia, no need for fear, just a night where you can catch up on some overdue rest.

But then you heard shuffling noises from underneath your bed.

Before you could even process anything, the bed gently dipped once again before an arm slinked over your waste.

There’s no way.

There’s no fucking way.

A jolt of electricity went through your body when you felt someone nuzzle closer to you.

You were petrified as you felt them inhale your scent.

He knew you were going to check the closet, didn’t he?

So he hid under the bed to be safe.

You were silently cursing yourself at how stupid you were. Why didn’t you think to check under the bed?

Perhaps it was the initial relief of him not being in the closet that made you careless.

Now here he was, sleeping right next to you.

Was this his idea as a safe alternate to staring at you?

As he pulled you closer to his chest, your thoughts were racing a million miles an hour.

You had to call the police.

But there was no evidence that he’s even doing this.

Besides, you were the police.

Then that meant you could fight back against him, right?

But how well would that end up?

He’s already trapping you to his chest.

Besides, you didn’t even want to thinking about fighting against one of the top 10% from the academy.

Perhaps he’ll let you go if you ask nicely enough?

…

If it wasn’t for the risk of disturbing your uninvited bedmate, you would’ve physically shook your head at that thought.

Hours ticked by as Leon slept next to you.

You still wide awake, thinking about what the hell you could possibly do.

However, there was no clear answer that would be immediately effective while maintaining your safety.

All you knew was one thing was certain;

Maybe it was time to install cameras in your home.

547 notes · View notes

latolover · 4 days

Text

Puppy Obsession — I

Yandere Leon Kennedy x Police Academy Student Reader

This is in HC format.

The reader is gender neutral.

Content warning: Slight stalking, unnerving behavior, implied breaking and entering.

ARCHIVED POST. @clusterfuck-yandere IS MY NEW BLOG.

PLEASE DO NOT SEND REQUESTS ON THIS BLOG.

— You thought he was kind of a weirdo.

I mean, no one can really blame you. Despite how his eyes had an adorable naïveté to them…

… or how attractive he was,

the staring thing was a bit creepy.

— Ever since the first day at the academy, you could feel his pale blue eyes burning into your head.

Through PT, drills, classroom instructions, the shooting range, even lunch, you could always feel him staring at you.

It was becoming a problem.

A BIG problem.

And it didn’t help that he always found a way to be near you.

Physical training? He’s doing push-ups right next to you.

Drills? You can practically feel him breathing down your neck as you march.

Classroom instructions? He’ll always manage to snag a desk near you.

Shooting range? In the spot next to you.

Lunch? It’s guaranteed he’s at the table behind you.

— The other trainees are definitely well aware of his behavior.

It’s not like he’s subtle, with him staring at you in broad daylight.

Some think it’s just an adorable little puppy crush.

And, on the surface, they aren’t entirely wrong.

It’s just him looking at you with adoration and wanting to be at your side, right?

Maybe he just looks up to you, thinking of you as a role model.

Anytime they catch him staring at you, they’ll usually do a bit of teasing, causing his cheeks to slightly burn.

“Thought you passed your middle school crush phase a while ago, Kennedy.”

There are a handful of trainees that call you lucky, since you’ve gotten the attention of one of the top police academy students.

Not to mention one of the most attractive students, too.

— But some find it just as creepy as you.

Like the guy who happened to catch a glimpse of Leon’s phone lock screen.

It was you.

Walking to your car.

Seemingly unaware of your picture being taken.

That’s kind of a red flag.

There’s also that one female trainee who saw Leon stuff a jacket in his duffel bag.

Right after you said you lost your jacket of that same color…

Others just find it unnerving that he finds time to stare at you for almost the entire day.

One dude joked that he probably finds time to stare at you 24/7.

You did not like that inference.

A lot of pitying looks are thrown your way when Leon’s hovering near you.

It’s nice to know some people have sympathy for you, at least.

— Things go missing a lot.

Pencils for jotting down notes during classroom instructions will mysteriously disappear from your desk.

Gear like your pistol holster won’t be where you last put it after PT.

Even clothing articles from your locker go missing, never to be found again.

You’ve gotten the reputation of “the forgetful cadet” amongst the sergeants because of this.

At first, you thought it was just the other trainees playing a prank.

There’s no way you could lose track of yet another packet of sticky notes.

But then you start to realize just who recovers these items almost every single time.

Leon Scott Kennedy.

After a minute or two of checking around your desk, you’ll feel a tap on your shoulder and see that he’s holding your pencil.

“It rolled off your desk,” he’ll say with that same giddy smile.

Frantically looking around for your holster — and cursing yourself for setting it down “for just a second” — your name will be called, followed by Leon holding up your holster.

“I think this is yours,” he’ll say with a bright expression.

In fact, one time, you remember confronting a trainee who’s notorious for stealing other people’s sticky notes.

“Oh, look,” they said. “Maybe your dog found them.”

You turned around to see Leon holding your pack of sticky notes in his hand, a proud smile on his face.

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

— As stated before, your clothing articles are never to be seen again.

Shirts, jackets, sweatshirts, they all seem to vanish without a trace.

Again, you thought it was just the other trainees playing a prank on you.

But then that female cadet who saw Leon shove a jacket in his bag spoke up.

“I think your culprit is that Kennedy guy.”

At this point, you weren’t surprised.

The thought of him somehow getting into your locker still majorly creeped you out, of course.

And, of course, there was no way you could confirm your suspicions.

All you could do is ask around about your missing clothing items, hoping that they would turn up without having anything to do with Leon.

But your suspicion were only got stronger when you caught him with a familiar looking hoodie under his arm.

— You decided to finally confront him.

“Is that my hoodie?”

Leon’s shoulders slightly tensed at your question. “Huh?”

“I asked if that was my hoodie,” you said.

“Uh, no,” he answered, pushing the hoodie further under his arm. “Wha— why would it be your hoodie?”

“It just looks awfully similar to the one I lost a couple days ago,” you explained with a skeptical tone.

“Well, it isn’t,” he defended. “It’s mine.”

The way he started to get aggressive made you feel slightly uneasy.

“I was just asking,” you clarified, “since clothes from my locker have been disappearing, and—”

He interrupted you. “And you think it’s me?!”

At this point, a small crowd was watching this exchange.

“It just looked like my hoodie,” you professed. “That’s all, man. Sorry for upsetting you.”

You then decided that a hoodie wasn’t worth agitating one of the academy’s top students.

That could get ugly fast.

Before you walked away, though, you caught a glimpse of the guilty expression on Leon’s face.

He looked like a puppy that just tore up a couch.

You bit back your desire to ask him any further questions.

When you got home that evening, you walked into your room to see a mass of clothes on your bed.

You brushed it off as laundry you dumped on your bed that morning.

But then you noticed the jacket you lost a couple weeks ago, the training shirt that mysteriously disappeared when you changed for drills, and — more importantly — the hoodie Leon claimed wasn’t yours.

It all somehow ended up in your room.

You then decided it was time to change your locks.

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latolover · 5 days

Text

Chance

part two of a Razor piece

Part 1

Warnings: creepy behavior, mentions of death, kidnapping, threats of violence, dub con bordering on noncon, smut, graphic depictions of violence

You hadn’t felt right since you entered the game.

It wasn’t in a way that you felt sick, but more along the lines of having a bad feeling of something that had yet to come. It was something foreboding that kept you on edge and made you jump at the slightest noise, and yet you couldn’t place why that was.

Odette had teased you about it, but had also assured you that it was only because Greed Island was such a different game than anything else out there and promised that you’d get used to it eventually.

You didn’t get used to it, but you did your best to hide that fact, not wanting to make your friend worry over you.

Greed Island was pretty quickly proven to not be as user-friendly as some people had made it out to be. You both had second thoughts about playing this game when you heard of someone who had died in the middle of one of the towns. That, along with the guy who had ambushed the two of you and stole your cards not too long after you had started, made the both of you seriously reconsider playing this game. You would have left had it not been for a man named Jet.

He was the leader of another, larger group of nen users who also worked for your employer and was happy to let in new members as long as you were able to pull your weight. You and Odette seemed to meet his standards, so he let you join. There was safety in numbers, and even if doing so wouldn’t allow you to keep any of the more substantial rewards for yourself, you didn’t have any repeats of having all of your cards stolen, which you appreciated.

Weeks passed, and even though you were in a relatively safer position with your friend and a lot more people that you could call allies, that foreboding feeling wouldn’t leave. It had dulled a bit, sure, but it never went away.

Keep reading

#I've read this 40-50 times....#iconic

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latolover · 6 days

Text

: ̗̀➛ ALL OR NOTHING. yan! aventurine / gn! reader

it's a nice feeling to finally be on the winning side, feigning fairness when all the winning cards are in his hand. but it's not like you can fault him for cheating. after all, you who has nothing chose to challenge him, the one who will gain everything.

( overarching theme of sl4very, anim4l cruelty, anim4l death, bl00d, graphic description of violence, hinted obsessive behavior, im unoriginal and stole kafkas spirit whisper for reader ) + 7.5k words

"It's just a bet," he suggests, as if this gamble won't cost you your everything. "Juuust a bet. Exactly what are you so scared of?"

He sits laid back in his plush velvet chair, twirling a cocktail as he enjoys the finest luxuries in life. He is clad head to toe in the finest clothing, dressed like a peacock waiting to impress. You, on the other hand, feel more like the peahen— dreadfully drab in your rags and no choice but to watch as the peacock flaunts his feathers. You are knelt on the ground, but your eyes show no submission.

"I'm not crazy, gambler," you bite. "I know the IPC. They are full of shit. And you, Aventurine." Your eyes set on him with hatred. "You're the smelliest of the lot."

Aventurine, the gem of lies and luck, sighs dramatically. "Pup, you know I don't like it when you're so vulgar, y'know? I'm giving you a chance at freedom, so you ought to at least treat me at least a little bit nicer. I'm not the one who shackled you, so I don't understand what the aggression is all about."

"You're the reason why I'm here in the first place!"

"No, Jade was." He presses a finger to your lip and you'd bite it if it weren't for the annoying bind you were under. "Jade came across you and thought you and your talent would make for a nice gift. You were a gift and I'm just the receiver. So don't go barking up the wrong tree, pup."

"So." He leans back into his couch and shoots you a sly grin. "Up for round one?"

You are lost.

The meaning of Paths and their symbolisms are lost on you. You don't care for Aeons— no one on your home planet was. You were busy diving in dumpsters for a scrape of food, tricking your 'friends' into sacrificing themselves for you, and killing whatever was left of your humanity just to make it to another day. You walk on no Path but yours.

You don't even know which way you're going. So you are lost.

You think Aventurine is lost too.

He has every detail of his facade practiced. His gait is relaxed enough to not be intimidating, but not sloppy enough to be called out as bad posture. He talks in a smooth voice that eases fools and makes enemies wary, his smile is charming to sway the opponent into another gamble, his hair is fixed to frame his pretty face, and he chooses words that cannot be turned into loopholes. He is Aventurine. But he is not himself.

He does not care for the Preservation, but he rejects the Elation. He is on his own Path too, but he knows the destination he must reach— his 'End'. In that way, he is different from you, because you know not your journey or your ending. Still, he is just as lost as you.

But he makes a darn good show of not seeming that way. Right now, you watch as he throws the dice on the table, and the whole table watches with bated breath as they turn. A six and one— he lost the bet to the other's six and five. They cackle gleefully as they collect their earnings from Aventurine. They have chips upon chips on their side of the table while Aventurine's winnings are cut in half.

"I think I'll call it a day, pretty boy," the gambler cackles, greedily eyeing his earnings and possibly dreaming about the cash he's made tonight. "Even a gambler knows when to call quits, right?"

Aventurine pouts. "Aww, so soon? C'mon, the night's only begun! Who knows, play another round and you might just end up with more money than you have right now~"

The man laughs again, obviously not fooled by his pity act. "Boy, I'm not as addicted as you are. I know when to stop instead of letting you bleed me out dry." But Aventurine isn't fazed; rather, he snaps his fingers and you lower your head as you step to his side.

"Well, we can't have that, can we? [Y. Name], be a dear and persuade this gentleman into another round with me."

A glow of your eyes. Then you fix the man with an eerie gaze as you say, bright and clear, "Hey, you: Play another round with my master."

As if in a daze, the man's eyes cloud over and sit right back. Another round later Aventurine wins all his losses back and more, leaving the other gambler's side naked and bare of chips. The man is barely out of his stupor when he realizes what just happened— that he's fallen for a trick and now he's ended up with no money to even cover his lodgings— but you and Aventurine have sauntered out of the casino doors by the time he's begun cussing you out.

"Ha! That was fun." Aventurine shrugs off his jacket now that you're in the car and raises an empty champagne glass to you. "You're a good partner, [Y. Name]. Honestly, that Spirit Whisper of yours is such a nice trick. Just like that Stellaron Hunter, right?"

"... Kafka?"

"Yes, her. Enigmatic woman, isn't she? A bit ironic how those with such a powerful ability ended up as slaves. Her as Destiny's, and you as... mine." He gives your collar a little tug and you growl in warning, but you inch closer to him anyway. "So. Gambling. You up for that round?"

You scoff and grin at him with all teeth and no mirth. "You really think that a Cornerstone would bet on their slave's freedom?" Aventurine's own grin grows wider. "C'mon. Even Pteruges-V has better lies than you."

"Ah, right, your homeworld. No wonder you're so brazen all the time, even to your superiors. I forget that fear is a foreign concept to you people. Still," he raises your chin with a finger. "If you're so fearless, why not bet on a gamble? It's not like you're scared."

"There may be fools from my planet that you can trick with that taunt, peacock, but I'm not one of them. I'm fearless, not stupid. And with the way you're so eager to involve me in this bet, I'm beginning to suspect that you need this more than I do." You push him away. "So, no, master, I won't indulge you. I'll bide my time and look for an escape. Just like I've always had."

"And what?" He looks at you from behind his sunglasses. "Will you kill me to gain that freedom?"

You flash him a sharp grin, now amused. "Of course you'd think that, master."

The smile on his face is wiped clean. You really are a brazen thing, you.

Jade has always mentioned how soft Aventurine is on you. A dog of your attitude should merit a little more disciplinary action and even the good Doctor has told him this once or twice after seeing your arrogance despite the collar around your neck. "Your dog bites more than it deserves," Ratio scoffed while you made an action of biting him behind Aventurine. He frowned in displeasure. "You ought to make it learn a lesson or two."

"Now, now, doctor," Aventurine had laughed. "Not everyone shares the same sadistic tendencies as you." An image of you collared and shaking on your knees flashes through his mind, and he finds himself gulping. Ratio looks at him like he doesn't believe him.

It's not like he hasn't thought of it, of chaining you to the wall and starving you so that you learn that your attitude has its consequences. You shouldn't bite the hand that feeds you, not when he's been so good to you. But that... that was exactly the line of thought his old master had. That wicked man who put a brand on him and sullied his hands with his wretched man... he couldn't risk turning into a monster like... that.

Aventurine is weak. Unable to let go of past sentiments and memories, he makes it up with his grand display of bravado and high-stakes gambles. He gambles even as he spoils you, laughing at your audacity and even rewarding you for it sometimes, not knowing whether you'll leave him or if you'll stay with him. It is a gamble indeed, but you were worth every risk.

"What do you think of me, [Y. Name]?" The cityscape beyond the window is glowing with Pier Point's nightlife, and his suite provides him a good view of the world beneath him. He glances back at you, stirring his coffee for him. "Your dear master Aventurine. What do you think of me?"

"Annoying, stupid, a fool, an addict, and pathetic." You don't hesitate to badmouth your master. "You lie too well, you think that luck of yours will never run out, and you try to be someone that you can't."

"And who is that someone?"

Your eyes flash. "Someone strong. Someone confident. Someone who isn't afraid to admit his weaknesses and hope that things get better."

"I didn't peg you for an optimist, dear pet."

"Hmph. That's not optimism. I may not know what exactly fear is, but I know that what is holding you back isn't it. You do not fear things, gambler. You stake it all and bet on something so intangible as luck. That can't be fear."

"Then what is it?"

The stare you give him sets his heart off, looking straight into his eyes and giving a grin so devilish and knowing like that facade of his never mattered in the first place.

"You're a coward. A plain, old coward. Nothing more, nothing less."

That conversation had always popped up in his head in the most inconvenient of moments, especially when he was about to get some sleep. His heart beat faster every time he recalled that knowing gaze of yours, invading where he didn't want the world to see and baring his soul right before your very eyes. His facade doesn't work on you.

He could care less. You were the one person he didn't want it to work on, though he'd never admit that out loud.

This meeting with the other Ten Cornerstones could not interest him any less, and it seemed to be that way for the others too. Jade is saying something on behalf of Diamond, again, and everyone is busy doing their own thing. Only Topaz seems to be the one paying at least some attention, and even then she gets distracted by Numby from time to time. Aventurine glances at the clock.

He wonders how his pup is faring while he's away. Ecstatic, perhaps.

"— All evidence leads to an underground network that is scattered among numerous planets, though thankfully all of them are within the same galaxy. I'll be forwarding an email to you all with a detailed report on each of these. Just know that most of us will be likely deported to these countries to break up the—" In the middle of Jade's tiresome monologue, the security alarms start to blare and two officers slam through the doors with looks of urgency. One of them scans the room until his eyes land on Aventurine, and they quickly approach him.

"Sir!" They say, desperate and alarmed. "Your do— I mean, slave! They've– They've escaped!"

Surprise streaks across the faces of the Ten Cornerstones, even Aventurine's. He collects himself when he catches Jade's knowing smile and chuckles to himself.

"Well, I guess this is the master's consequence for not disciplining their pet."

Did he really think you were fucking stupid? Taking on a bet for your freedom... what a bunch of bullshit. He can proclaim about how much he loves a fair gamble, but you know that's only reserved for the people around the table. You are his slave, the one he demeaningly calls 'pet'— you don't have the chance to make your own dealings.

"Halt! In the name of Qlipoth, you better stop while we're giving you a chance." These IPC henchmen were slowpokes, the lot of them. You weave in and between salary workers, crashing trolleys full of wares and coffees and hopping between levels just to shake them off their tracks. By golly, they might be incompetent but Aeons damned they were nothing but persistent.

"Ha, the Devil Hunters were more annoying than them," you mutter to yourself, skidding around the corner only to come face-to-face with two IPC henchmen. They raise their polearms to strike, but with a chilling grin stretched across your face, you say: "Hey, you: Jump."

You don't look back to see whether they made the seven-floor drop.

This reminds you of the nights you spent back in Pteruges-V: making fools out of the prissy rich, jumping across buildings to shake of the Hunters, and using whatever you had to make things go your way. Not everyone had Spirit Whisper, but those who had made good use of it and you sure as hell wouldn't miss a single chance to use it.

Your mind runs with plans as you continue to run away. Maybe you'll find a nice ship to stow away on, hopefully, one that leads to a nice planet that isn't so stuffy and rigid. Maybe like Homberto-σ, out of sight from the IPC and where everyone minded their own business.

For what felt like forever trying to shake your followers off, you finally came to a stop when you realized that only the sound of your footsteps could be heard in this labyrinth of hallways and corridors. Finally having shaken them off, you sigh as you climb up the stairs to the rooftop. 'Just jump down and sneak off to the nearest hiding place you can find.' You tug at your collar and scowl. 'When I escape, not even this collar will matter anymore. Not when I'm somewhere they won't reach me.'

You've escaped so many life-or-death situations before. Escaping slavery is no different.

"Slave [Y.Name], subordinate of Cornerstone Aventurine, you are surrounded!" A voice blares through a megaphone the moment you step onto the roof deck. You hiss as multiple glaring lights settle on you, shielding your face from them and the helicopters' onslaught of wind. "Surrender now before we are forced to take extreme measures."

Through the gaps of your fingers, you can barely make out the men in black pointing their guns at your head, the red hot of the laser making you a point-blank target. You click your tongue. Those bastards tricked you into thinking you were safe. Fuck. You couldn't even be mad. This was all on you.

"Oh, little pup. I guess I really should have listened to them when they told me to discipline you." Aventurine's seedy voice sighs behind you, smirking as he nonchalantly strides up to you. "Did you really have to do all this instead of taking the bet? Do you really hate the thought of playing with me, hm?"

"Fuck off."

"No can do, little one, you know how much I'm obsessed with you, right?" He chuckles, catching your chin between his thumb and index and forcing you to look into his eyes. Those Sigonian eyes are covered by the cloudy purple of his glasses, but even you can tell just how much he's enjoying this mess you've put yourself in. "You know I don't have a need for your skill. I could easily persuade anyone without trying, but I still let you stick around. Pup, I can't just back away from you when you know how much I want you."

You smile darkly. "That's cuz you're a sicko who likes tugging on the chain instead of being in it."

Those pretty eyes of his darken for a moment, embittered by the snarky comment at his past, before his hands trail down to your collar, hooking it with a finger and pulling on it. "Dear, while I usually have the patience for your tirades, I'd rather not do it today. You've humiliated me enough in front of the entire Corporation. So—" Pulling once again on your collar, he starts to lead you to the door. "— Let us depart without much hassle, okay?"

Humiliation sears your nerves like a hot metal, a warning growl eliciting from your mouth as he continues to tug you away from the rooftop. Close, you were so fucking close. Here you are breathing in the fresh night wind, a jump away from freedom, but then these IPC idiots all had you fooled. You don't care how many bullets will embed themselves into your skin, all you just needed to do was get away from this grip Aventurine has on you.

You grab the wrist pulling on you, yanking him towards you. His eyes widen before narrowing again, as if not believing that you still had the energy to fight like you don't have red laser points on your forehead. "[Y. Na—"

"Hey, you: S—"

You couldn't even get another syllable out. Your collar beats a few pulses before it starts squeezing your neck, crushing your windpipes and forcing you down on your knees as you choke on your blood. It sears hot around your neck and you collapse writhing on the ground as you sob and gurgle on your screams and congealed blood.

'WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY ME—' You can only curse and scream inside your head as you painfully thrash on the cement. '— A BILLION BASTARDS IN THE WORLD AND IT HAD TO BE FUCKING ME.'

Darkness is pushing in on you and the pain is making it too hard to go on, but you've always been a fighter. Even if you think that your squirming is pathetic and futile to the onlookers, you continue to tug and pull on the collar like you have a chance. Your ears are ringing and your eyes are too fucking blurry to see with, but the fight doesn't die down.

Aventurine places a soft palm on your hair. Even through the tears stinging your eyes, you can barely make out the faint expression on his face. Damned fucking bastard, damned Signonian, hypocrite and the fucking devil—!

He even has the audacity to look sad for you, as the light slips away from your eyes.

The first round is simple. Play a round of poker with him.

Aventurine hums delightedly as he shuffles the cards with clean and practised movements, looking right at home at the dealer's table he has sitting in his suite. You blankly look at the cards, not even an inch of a reaction from your side. He chuckles as he deals your cards.

"C'mon, look alive, dear." It's almost like he genuinely wants you to cheer up. "Look, I even poured out alcohol for you. It's not everyday that you get to taste Pier Point's most exquisite wine!"

You continue to stare blankly. You haven't given up yet, of course not, but... you can barely bring yourself to move.

When Aventurine is done dealing all the cards, he leans back on his chair and studies his opponent, just like he always has in the past. If you were acting normally, this would have been an easy win. After all, you always wore your heart on your sleeve and abhorred being told to control your emotions. You acted the way you felt— you curse when you anger, you boast when you're feeling smug, and you press your lips together and blush as he praises you for another job well done.

But now. Well. Bandaids cover the seared marks on your neck as well as your head after you've slammed it against the pavement during your delirious fit on the rooftop. Your arms are littered with purples and blues, the aftermath of a disciplinary session that went on throughout the night. Despite the abuse that Aventurine has (rightfully, in his mind) dealt to you, he had made sure to tend to you afterwards.

Settling your head on his lap, combing through the strands as he placed an icepack on your bruises. He hummed you an old children's rhyme from his home planet as you lay limp across the couch. You could barely move, mind unable to process the pain and despair of having an inch of freedom being ripped away from you. He had wiped away the tear that would fall from your eyes.

You couldn't feel comforted at all.

"This will be the first round out of four. Today, we'll make this a bit simple. Five quick rounds of Indian poker. If you're confident that your card is higher than mine, you can bet as much as you like. Not confident? Fold, and that won't count as a round. Loser has the lower card." He raises his glasses to his hair and smiles at you. "Understood?"

"Understood," you grunt. "I'm not a fuckin' idiot."

Aventurine only smirks. It irritates you, but you don't have much fire in you to snap at him.

The room is silent save for the clinking of chips against each other. The two of you cast a chip to the middle of the table. You raise your card to your forehead.

You cast two more chips. Aventurine casts three. You stare at the printed picture on his card and throw in another chip. He throws in another five. You frown.

"Fold."

"Ah~ You should've been more confident in yourself!" Aventurine chuckles as he begins to shuffle the deck to deal another round. You scowl at the Ace of Clubs in your hand, mocking you at your relinquished defeat. "Is a little intimidation all that's needed to make you submit? You weren't this docile before."

"Shut the fuck up and let's play again." He decides to stifle his laugh for the sake of your nerves.

"Raise." Your win, six of hearts to three of spades.

"Raise." Your win, queen of spades to jack of hearts.

"Fold." Could've been Aventurine's, ace of spades to king of spades.

"Raise." Aventurine's win, eight of clubs to six of hearts.

"Fold." Could've been yours, queen of hearts to 10 of clubs.

"Raise." Aventurine's win, nine of clubs to seven of spades.

Aventurine's practiced hands thumb through the cards as he begins to rearrange them again. His glass wine is almost empty, while yours is untouched. The man knows that you don't drink, so why would he...?

"Last round before one of us wins," Aventurine's voice lilts as he throws you your card. "How about we make it exciting? No one is allowed to fold this round." You frown at him but don't say anything. You cast another chip to the table, and he follows suit.

He has a 10 of spades pressed to his forehead, and your fingers dig deep into your skin.

'Oh please, there's other cards higher than a 10.' You remind yourself, but you gulp down your dry throat as your vision zeroes into his card. 'Jack, Queen, King, Ace. Anything. Please.' Aventurine notices your hurried breathing and smiles knowingly. You gulp whatever cowardice is rising in your throat and throw another chip.

"Raise." Fuck it. If this is the last round, then let's just ball.

He cocks his head, finding the motion unnecessary in this last round. But he sighs with a smile and plays along, casting his chips into the fray, "Then I'll raise too."

"This is the last round," you say, more so to remind yourself.

"Yep." He leans forward on the table and the fluorescent lights cast a shadow over those alluring eyes. "Nervous?"

'How could you say that? How could you taunt me like that? When you were just like me?'

You strengthen your resolve and glare up at him, the fire lighting back up in those blank eyes. "I hope you go to hell."

You throw your card to the middle, with the rest of the chips.

Jack of Clubs.

Aventurine cocks his head at you, smiling as usual.

"Congratulations, pet."

One would expect that Pier Point was the peak embodiment of wealth and luxury, being the base of the Interastral Peace Corporation. But the brightly something shone the darker its shadows.

Aventurine just so happened to like those shadows, even shrugging off those fancy clothes of his just so that he could find solace in those sleazy bars and play rounds of poker with dead-eyed salarymen and recently fired hopefuls.

The surroundings didn't fare any better. Amongst the dying neon lights, Pier Point's worst neighborhoods featured a just as nasty environment. Drunkards lying beside dumpsters with shattered beer bottles around them, cats hissing at each other in a fight for survival, and abandoned children peeking at them around the corner as they lay in wait for an opening.

Aventurine has shedded his elaborate peacock coat in favor of a simple white button-down and slacks. Despite the simplicity, he still looked out of place amongst the rags, though it made people think of him as a fearless idiot rather than run away at the sight of the IPC's elite.

"Mmm, that robin is indeed very plump," the blonde idiot remarks out of nowhere. "Quite out of place for this kind of area."

You pay him very little attention, mindlessly kicking the broken half of a bottle with your heel. It bumps into a smelly bastard who shoots you an irritated look, but quickly cowers when you return it tenfold. "Maybe it's been feeding on the leftovers of you prissy IPC folk," you spat, taking a look at the fat robin for yourself.

He takes no notice of the slight towards his kind and instead cocks his head at the cat slinking around the corner. "Well. Its health has attracted a rather unwelcome predator." He turns to you, with a mischievous smile. "How about we make this round two? Who will die first, the cat or the robin?"

Seriously? You were betting your freedom on something as stupid as this? You consider the cat— snarling, insipid thing, balding and thin as a stick— then the robin, tweeting fearfully at its perch on the graffitied wall. "Am betting on the cat. Could eat the fat thing while you go on another gamble."

He laughs, sliding on his shades as he walks into the seedy bar. "Then I have no choice but to bet on the poor robin. Let's have some fun before we see the results of our bet."

The cat is lying on the ground, heaving its last few breaths. Its yellow eyes are barely peeking out from its eyelids, probably delirious and starving in its last moments. You poke it slightly with your foot.

It meows pitifully. You instantly feel bad.

It might just be the ugliest thing you've laid your eyes on, but even the ugliest creatures deserve some sort of companionship in their last moments. It hisses weakly when you draw your hand close, but it can't do anything but relent as you stroke its hairless head. It purrs a bit, ragged and breathy, but the heaving of its ribbed chest slows as it relaxes.

"Don't do that," you murmur. "Just... just be quiet. It's okay."

The quiet steps of leather shoes stop beside you, and Aventurine watches on in silence as you comfort the dying thing. His gaze moves from the cat to the robin, still perched on top of the wall with his fat little chest and beady eyes. It hasn't moved from its position at all, just... staring and staring.

"So—"

"I know," you murmur, focus still on the poor thing. "I know, okay?"

The fat robin chirps again, tittering with its mocking chirp, before it flies away into the sky.

Your cat closes its eyes shut, and its skinny chest finally slows to a stop.

Aventurine stays with you for a while as you find a nice spot of earth to bury it.

No matter how much you want to believe your preconceived image of the blonde gambler— irresponsible, materialistic, money-wasting— you can't just make up lies about him in your head when all of his missions end on a win for him. Right now, he's heading for another mission in a galaxy far away again. And like always, he's dragged you along whether you like it or not.

"Come on, you like sightseeing other planets!" He laughs on the space warp going there. "Makes your blood pumping, scouting out the possible planets you can run away to."

"If I can run away," you grumble, not wanting to acknowledge him as you stare out the window and into the starry expanse of galaxies and space. This sight has always unnerved you— a reminder of how small and insignificant you are. How small and insignificant this collar hand on your life.

"It's not like you to be such a downer," he huffs. He pats the empty seat beside him. "Come, come. Drink with me. Ah, but no alcohol though. Don't want you trying to bite my entourage as soon as we get off." He's referring to the time that you had two sips of the lightest alcohol the ship had in stock before you absolutely wasted and decided that running away to the next planet was a good idea.

You grunt but sit on the floor next to his feet. He doesn't dare to correct you but only regards you with amusement before handing you a glass of sparkling water. You've always had this weird insistence of maintaining your master-slave status quo, despite abhorring your status as a slave. You followed his commands to the tee no matter how dangerous but refused to budge whenever he insisted on treating you like an equal.

"Don't get me wrong," you had snapped at him angrily one time. "As long as I'm in this stupid collar, I am not your fucking equal. So don't go around treatin' me like one, got it?!"

"You got the briefing, right? I'll be dismantling an underground operation on our next planet, so I'll be making good use of your Spirit Whisper." You sip your drink and make no reaction. "I'm sure you have no complaints about that, right?"

"Like I have a fuckin' choice."

He laughs into his cocktail. "Right. How could I forget?" Your eyes narrow into slits when he threads his thin fingers through your hair, but you don't make any move to remove them. "Unfortunately, this isn't an operation that I can just charm and gamble my way through, so you'll be doing a lot of heavy lifting. But so long as I have you, my dearest pet, I'm sure we'll be done before we know it."

You fight the urge to give into his tender touch, massaging your scalp as he combs your strands, though your eyelids are drooping now. He chuckles fondly when you rest your chin on the sofa, right next to his thigh. Adorable, how easily you succumb to the smallest of physical affection.

"Just take a nap," he hums. "We'll be there before you know it."

Aventurine's lavish outfit is a stark contrast against the nitty and gritty environment of the gambling den the two of you are staking out right now. Some of the men leer at him when he passes by, their faces painted by sweat and malice, and the promiscuous women bat their eyes at him with painted-on sweet smiles. No one bats an eye at the collared servant trailing behind him.

You try not to wince as you accidentally make eye contact with another slave, them kneeling on the ground with only rags to cover them and you have the luxury to look away as you grip the sleeves of your ironed button-down. You decide to just fix your eyes on Aventurine's back for the rest of the journey.

The next room you enter— less room to be honest, and more... coliseum-y— features a fighting ring where the crowd cheers on two dogs circling each other under the fluorescent spotlights. The other one, bigger and scarred, is baring his teeth while bearing a deep red gash across his body. The smaller one is shivering but giving the same energy back, snarling in intimidation while also sporting a noticeable limp. Despite the darkness of the room, you don't miss the way Aventurine's face contorts into disgust as he looks at the fight and surveys the crowd of spectators.

"Disgusting," he murmurs. You don't say anything back, though you doubt he could hear you amidst all this cheering. You used to bet on dogs too, back in the day. It was quick and easy money, and you had better things to worry about than the fate of some mutt.

While you're focused on the pathetic dog show in front of you, he steps to your side and nudges you with his elbow. "Willing to bet?" He asks, eyes focused on the show. "As our fourth round."

"From the look on your face, I thought you hated this kind of thing."

"I do, but I'm not putting money in the pot like the rest of them. This is strictly between you and me with no money involved." He turns his gaze to you. "So, what about it?"

You study the dogs. They've been circling each other for a while now, and the crowd's been growing more and more agitated by the lack of fighting. You think of the dogs you've bet on before, how the smaller ones had just an equal chance of success at winning as the bigger ones. Unconsciously, you tug at your collar. It matches perfectly with the stupid dogs down below.

"Bet," you huff. "I'm taking the smaller one."

You don't know why. It'd make sense to just bet on the bigger and badder, but maybe it's that ferocity in his eyes even if it's overshadowed by the growling menace that has you feeling for it. It's stupid, you know, betting your freedom on a hunch and emotions. But...

If it could have a chance at winning... then why can't you?

...

... Are you destined to die, just like it?

... Are you destined to die as a slave for another IPC slave?

... Will your death be just as morbid and pathetic as the mongrel, his innards spilling onto the pavement while the winner is pulled away by the collar, with no prize but another day of freedom?

This is round three out of four. You've only won one so far.

The very next round could kill you. Could completely sign away your freedom.

Shit shit shit shit shit. Why'd you have to go feeling sorry for the stupid shit? Why'd you have to empathize with its futile fight? Why'd you have to go see yourself in it? Now you could very much share its fate, dying pathetically serving for people who never cared about you in the first place.

Shit shit shit shit shit. The pressure of the bet has always been at the back of your mind, niggling at your brain. But now you can feel its heavy weight squeezing around your heart, in perfect rhythm with the phantom choking of your collar. If you don't win the next, you could very much—

Something light touches your shoulder and you lurch back like you had been stricken there. It disgusts and scares you, sending both repulsion and fear through your body like maggots wriggling into your system.

With a faltering outstretched palm, Aventurine's eyes widen behind his glasses. He sees something on your face, enough to make him bite down whatever cocky shit he has to say, and turns his back towards you.

"Let's go," he says, just barely audible above the crowd. "We still have a mission to complete.

"This is some silly joke of yours, isn't it?" Aventurine maintains his cool facade, but even then there is disgust in his tone as he speaks to Jade. "Giving a slave to another... you must think this is hilarious."

"Amusing, maybe, but this little one is too precious to let loose in the wild." Jade strokes your head, and while you curse in warning, you don't move to attack. "A user of Spirit Whisper, a rarity even among those in Pteruges-V. Don't you think it'd be better if they served the Amber Lord rather than going back to their pretty crimes?"

"Then give them to someone else." Aventurine turns his back on you and Jade. "Since when did I need help closing a deal?"

"Well, I just thought that you were lonely."

"And you think gifting me a slave of all things would help me?"

"Oh, just give them a chance. I'm sure you'll like this one. Look." Jade raises your chin with a finger, lifting your bruised face to the light. You shoot her a glare, plotting murder in your head, but you don't try to fight back. You might have tried once, probably, and learned your lesson. "Don't you love the fire in their eyes, even after being collared and brutally beaten?"

It is sick. It is sick how Jade can just easily muse about your past abuse to his face. To him. It is sick how the IPC thinks that Aventurine would even be happy about this... gift, let alone accept it.

"I appreciate the... thought." Jade smiles at the barely held back distaste in his voice. "But I'd really rather not."

"Oh, I see..." Jade hums, tilting her head to scrutinize you. "But no one else will accept you since you're too feisty for their liking. So I guess..."

"We'll just have to kill you."

Your face pales. Aventurine has never been quick to turn around.

"Fine. I'll accept," he says with gritted teeth and narrowed eyes. "I'll accept your gift, so just..." He sighs, massaging his temples and waving Jade off. "Go away and let us be."

"Is this some sort of savior complex you have going on?" Despite being a slave, you haven't really learned how to hold that spiteful tongue of yours. Half of the fault lies with Aventurine, seeing how he's never bothered to scold you for it. He looks away from the reports in his hand and smiles at you.

"Oh, whatever do you mean, my dear pup?" Your bitter scowl is pushed down even further at his sweet tone and you scoff.

"I mean," you say, gesturing all around you. "You never scold me, you give me good food, you do all these nice things for me. You don't beat and lash at me like others do. Are you feeling sorry? As one slave to another?"

"Personally, I've never heard of a slave complain about treating this well."

"It's weird." You frown. "It's weird and creepy. All these niceties yet I can tell that you don't even mean half of 'em. Your heart isn't in it. You're just doing it for the sake of being nice. So I don't get it." You cross your arms and lean on the couch, deep in thought. "If you don't even mean it, why even bother?"

Aventurine hums, studying your silent and pondering figure before returning to his papers. You don't follow up your complaints with anything else, and the two of you are left to stew in the silence.

... Why even bother indeed?

"Last round and you only have one win, pup." His sickly sweet voice croons, tapping his perfect nails on the table as he watches your expression. "Are you excited?"

Normally you'd bite back, but today you thickly swallow. The looming sense of doom continues to hammer into the back of your skull, spiking your nerves with every beat and shaking your senses. You can barely feel your fingers. You can barely feel except for the fear coiling around your heart.

"... Yes." You can't even barely say a syllable.

Through the rushing blood of your ears, you can barely make out the sound of your master rummaging through something. Something metallic clicks into place and he slides it to the center of the table. You will yourself to look up—

A shiny revolver lies on the table.

A surprised cry elicits from your mouth and you jolt back. The sight of a weapon is enough to startle your poor nerves now and even more so the expectant look glinting in Aventurine's eyes. He smirks and leans forward.

"How about I make an offer you can't refuse?" Not that you were in a position to do so. "Since this is the fourth round, how about we go all in?"

"Russian Roulette. Whoever wins stays alive—"

—And the other lays dead in a puddle of their own blood.

It goes unsaid, but the moment you locked eyes with Aventurine, it was clear that the both of you were thinking of the same thing. You could ponder upon why the Aventurine would stake his own life over something so trivial as your freedom, but you aren't thinking anymore. All you want is your freedom. All you want is to get away.

You don't think further as you wrap your fingers around the handle of the gun and press it to your temple. You pull the trigger. Only a clean click follows, the chamber changing cases. You slide the gun over to him.

He calmly picks it up and slots it to his temple too. "Why are you so desperate to get away from me, pup?" He cocks his head. "I would give you everything you ask for, should you just ask. I treat you with care and as a friend. Is being with me so bad you'd put your life on the line for your freedom?"

He pulls the trigger. Nothing happens. He slides it over to you.

"Even if you go back to your old life, what would be the point? You'll go back to stealing whatever you can off nobles, treating your fellow street rats like fools and pawns before dashing off to your next victim. Would that give you happiness? Fulfillment? Is that the life you prefer instead of being next to me?"

"Sh... Shut up." You sound drained, but he presses on.

"You can have it all, in the price of a collar. Does it not sound good enough to you?"

'Why... Why of all people is he...'

"Do you really hate being owned by me?"

"Why are you..." You choke on your words, grip around the handle trembling. "Why are you saying those things?"

Aventurine has never seen you cry. Not once. Not even when he had to punish you for running away. You could be weak and beaten, but you never willingly cried. But now...

He raises a hand to cover his smile.

"I thought... I thought you of all people would understand." Tears drop to your lap and your hand lowers the gun from your temple. "The pain, the humiliation of being a slave, of being owned. It doesn't matter how nice you are to me. I just want to be free. Shouldn't that be enough?"

Silence overtakes the room as Aventurine takes in the unfamiliar sight before him. Here you were, his greatest treasure, the most vulnerable than you ever were. Sobbing and weeping with a gun in hand, the pressure of the bet finally getting to you.

He moves. "... So this is it? For your pride?"

You wince, looking at him in betrayal. "You... I thought you of all people would at least understand..." You stay silent, the words forming on your tongue but too afraid to sound them out. Then your expression twists into anger, then resolute determination, before you wipe away your tears and glare at him like you always did. "I was wrong. You're scum. Just like the rest of 'em."

The moment the head of the gun points at his head, the collar clamps down and chokes you till your throat cracks and bleeds. The current of electricity crackling your nerves is just as painful and torturous as last time, but you grit your bloodied teeth and press the gun further.

Aventurine looks dazed, staring up into your bloodied face. If you weren't in such agonizing pain you would have laughed at how stupid he looks.

"[Y. Name]..."

"I hope you go to hell," you hiss through the bloody pain. "And I hope that when I get there, I'll never have to fucking see you again."

You pull the trigger to that beautiful face of his, but nothing happens once again. Fuck. It falls to the ground as the pain overwhelms you and you finally stagger. It lays among the specks of blood on the carpet, along with its empty... case...

Your eyes flick to Aventurine, still caught off guard and staring at you with wide eyes. Hesitantly, he reaches out to your convulsing body and cradles your head. "[Y. Name]..." He says, still sounding dazed. "Why would you..."

"Fuckin'... coward..." You grit out. "I was right... from the very start..."

Aventurine watches as you succumb to the pain and collapse in his arms. Despite being unconscious, the collar continues to shock and choke you, and more and more blood spouts from the side of your mouth and into the carpet. He tries to wipe it, despite it continuing like a fountain, before giving up and stroking your hair as the pain continues to intrude on you in your sleep.

"I know," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your eyelid. "You know it as well as me." He presses a kiss onto the other.

"You were never a bet I was willing to wager."

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latolover · 6 days

Text

Unholy Retribution

Man, writing genshin reminds me of 2022 where the whole Harbingers have just been revealed. Ig it’s time for me to finally fulfil all those requests about this hunk.

“It won’t be long until he comes here.” the dragon muttered, its long and scaly body coiled around the tower in which you were ‘imprisoned’ in. Its slit eyes glanced at you through the balcony, the yellow irises almost blinding you due to the added effect of the sunlight. “What would you do when that happens?”

You looked down and bit your lips. The irony of you feeling safer in a dragon’s clutch than your own knight wasn’t lost on you. True, it’d kidnapped you, a helpless princess from a nearby kingdom. But as a prisoner, you weren’t treated cruelly like you’d expected. The dragon had been confused and wary when you hadn’t yelled for help or begged it to release you during the first few days, although you did question its motive for kidnapping you. Turns out, it had a grudge against Capitano, your strongest knight, and decided to use you as a hostage.

As much as it displeased you, you wouldn’t deny that the kidnapping had provided you with an ample opportunity to avoid Capitano for a while. He was loyal, yes, and powerful. But there was something about him that made you wary. Maybe it was his hollow helmet. Maybe it was his constant silence. Or maybe it was his intense gaze. You felt it even when you thought you were alone. Not to mention, your marriage proposals had decreased significantly after he worked in the castle. Sure, some candidates were annoyingly persistent and subservient, but to think even the good ones were starting to distance themselves from you was no less concerning.

Who knew what Capitano had done behind your back…

“Honestly, I don’t know.” you mumbled. “Maybe I’ll hide or something.”

The dragon guffawed; a loud, mocking kind of laughter that almost shook the earth.

“That bastard is a monster. Hiding is the same as you trying to corner yourself.”

“I… what are you talking about? Capitano isn’t…”

“Ah… You poor, naïve princess, thinking everyone around you is a human.”

You scowled at its patronizing tone.

“Just tell me what you meant!”

“If you insist, Your Highness.” the dragon feigned a bow with its head, eliciting an eye roll from you. “Once upon a time, there was a human knight who loved his princess very much. They were destined to be wed, but alas, a certain dragon destroyed their kingdom. The princess was killed in the process, leaving the poor knight stricken with grief. He tried valiantly to kill the dragon, but the disparity of their strength was too great. And so, he retreated into a dark forest and struck up a deal with the devil. The deal gave him unfathomable power in exchange for his human appearance. All the humans he’s saved feared his gruesome face, so he decided to don a helmet to hide his inhumanity. Despite his seemingly noble nature, he still held onto his anger and vowed to kill the dragon one day. The end.”

Your jaw dropped from its story. Clearly, the dragon was at fault for destroying a kingdom and killing the princess. But you also couldn’t turn a blind eye to the knight’s last resort. Appearance might not be everything, but lots of people were superficial. Regardless of his kindness, they’d only focus on his monstrous looks.

And, honestly, you couldn’t say you were above such a reaction. If Capitano ever decided to reveal his face to you, you wouldn’t know what to do.

“Why… why did you even destroy that kingdom?! If you didn’t do that, you wouldn’t have gained a lifetime enemy, no?!”

“My, the story might’ve painted me as the big bad villain, but it’s not as if the king himself was any better. He was a greedy old man who wanted my riches, and has been sending knights after knights to my cave. I tried to warn him several times, but he refused to listen. So, tell me, which one is guilty here?”

“I…”

Technically, both of them were wrong. But if someone was too stubborn and too greedy, was it any wonder they’d get punished?

“Besides, the princess was a collateral damage. I didn’t intend to kill her, per se, although she’d make a great hostage.”

You sucked in an irritated breath and gritted your teeth at the implication.

“But still, you won’t kill me, right?”

“I won’t, if you’re being a good girl.”

“I haven’t done anything to warrant your anger! You know I–!”

“I know, I know. You’re using me as a shield against that monster’s obsession, and I’m using you as a hostage. It’s symbiotic mutualism, eh?”

You frowned but said nothing. Were all those marriage candidates knew that Capitano was secretly a monster and decided to back down? Or did he threaten them instead? You’d never really witnessed him warning anyone within your vicinity. At least, not verbally. Either he gripped the hilt of his sword a bit too tight or he was quick to draw it against someone. You could’ve assumed it was simply his duty as your knight had you didn’t feel the bloodlust emanating from him like a thick, black cloud.

And, most importantly, did your parents know about this?

No, they probably didn’t. Capitano was a hero who hailed from a distant land, and he’d done your kingdom a great service by slaying enemies left and right. As such, your parents were content with ignoring his idiosyncrasies even if some nobles were uncomfortable with the idea of letting a foreigner living in their land. You wished you could voice your support for those minorities, but you feared the consequences of doing so. Namely, you feared what he would’ve done to you rather than the idea of you being a paranoid princess in the eyes of many.

***

Capitano came at midnight.

You were sleeping peacefully when you heard the dragon’s mighty roar. You woke up with a jolt and rushed to the window after rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes. There, you could see Capitano dodging and striking his long-time foe with unnatural ease and precision. You didn’t see any other knight. He was alone.

This was revenge.

You wondered if your parents had known about this. Obviously, they’d want him to bring you back, but they also expected him to bring some backup in case anything happened to either of you. Perhaps, for the first time, he’d decided to defy their order. There were times when he seemed to obey you more, but then he went ahead and did some shady stuff behind your back.

Judging by the speed of his movements, he seemed as if he wanted to win this battle as quickly as possible. He was secretly fearful, you knew. He probably feared that the dragon had been hurting you all this time. Regardless of whether the dragon killed his fiancée accidentally or not, it didn’t change the fact that it could still harm you easily. Although you’d like to think that the dragon was more honorable than it looked, Capitano didn’t want to see it.

He was desperate, and he was angry.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Capitano finally landed a decisive blow to its heart. The dragon howled in pain, and you watched as it toppled to the ground. You were frozen in horror and awe from the sight of such a fierce battle, even when you should’ve been moving and hiding.

The dragon glanced up at you and smirked weakly.

“Heh, sorry, Princess. I suppose I can’t protect you any longer.”

Your eyes began to sting when it finally succumbed to its fate. The dragon was annoying, yes, but isolation had forced you to be close to your unlikely company. You would’ve bee standing there for a long time, grieving for its death, had you didn’t feel a pair of arms around your body.

When did he get inside your room?

“You’re safe. You’re safe.” Capitano whispered. “I’m so glad…”

“Capitano, you–”

“No need for words. I knew I shouldn’t have made a mistake twice. I hope you pardon me, Your Highness, because I’m planning to fix everything.”

Your heart started to beat faster in dread.

What was he planning to do now?

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I’ll be taking you to a safe place, far away from everything and everyone that might harm you.”

Your eyes widened.

“Don’t be ridiculous! My parents–”

“You don’t need them. If it’s an heir that they want, they can just appoint your sibling or relative as one.”

“What?! No, you can’t do that! I… I worked hard for my position!”

“I know, but it’s not worth risking your safety for such a precarious title. That dragon isn’t the only enemy you had to face, and I’ve killed enough humans to know that they can be worse than beasts.”

You froze. You didn’t know why you were so scared to hear his admission. Of course, he’d killed people before. It was practically inevitable. But there was something about the way he called them ‘humans’ that unnerved you. Maybe because it served as a reminder of his lost humanity. That this person – man – wasn’t a human anymore. Hadn’t been for a long time now. And you were conversing with him as if he was one, just like what you did to that dragon.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to lavish you in such wealth and affection you want nothing more.”

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