#kidnapper!leon

[sickophantic]

𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

pairing. stalker!leon / afab! reader

warnings. stalking, kidnapping, noncon, probably other stuff but idkk, read at your own risk

word count. 4,644

note. i like, haven't written anything for ummm half a year,, but i'm super excited about this fic!! started it almost two months ago and i finally finished it :33

Poor baby, haven’t been taking care of yourself for weeks; haven’t been eating or sleeping and barely going out for groceries, always staying inside except for work, leaving the house early in the morning and returning home at 2 a.m. Poor girl’s been coming back so late just for a shower, a quick, shitty dinner or a cup of tea, and after that straight to bed, day after day after day. And of course, Leon noticed what it was doing to you immediately: your sunken eyes from the late hours and the graveyard shifts, the dull skin from all your forgotten skincare, God, all those products collecting dust in your little bathroom, and the way your flesh was starting to cling to your bones, oh you poor thing. He couldn’t have that happen to his angel, absolutely not.

Sitting on the bed, watching you, something broke in him every time he saw you all teary eyed and tired, scrolling through your phone, looking through all your contacts. It’d happen almost nightly, after work and after a shower, all of you but your face hidden in the cold cover of the darkness, your quivering lips and your matted eyelashes limned by the blue light of your phone, your finger hovering over your friends’ numbers as you debated with yourself. He’d see the way your brow furrowed as you weighed the risk of opening up to people who should care about you, but fuck if it actually felt like it. So you’d just sigh, suck in a breath, and set your phone on the bed table and fumble in the darkness to find its charger, before shutting your eyes, preparing for next day’s hell.

He’d watch you breathe for a little while, his own eyes intent on his screen, before he’d shut the app and set his phone down. It was like a nightly routine at this point. He’d come home from the R.P.D., and every day, his heart would soften when he’d check on you, watch you through the cameras he installed and see how lonely and apathetic and pathetic you were. Poor baby had no one. Just made it even more obvious how much you needed him.

When you’d skipped dinner for the third time that week, he decided enough was enough. He didn’t want to, of course he didn’t, but he’d have to take drastic measures. Just, take you away for a little bit. Temporary, of course. Just until you got your things together. He was helping you. You’d see that. That’s why today, he slipped into your apartment with a copied key and stirred something special into your tea.

Sweet thing came home late, rubbing your bleary eyes and yawning, throwing your keys somewhere by the door, slipping your coat off and heading to the kitchen, wanting to microwave your day-old tea. Waited thirty seconds for the microwave to beep. He watched on his phone as you put creamer and sugar in your tea and downed it quickly. You always liked things sweet. You took a shower and stumbled into bed, all sluggish and soft, falling asleep almost immediately. 

A few minutes later, the front door opened, letting in the dim, yellow light from the hallway and a pair of silent footsteps. He took his coat off, setting it gently on the rack, slipping his shoes off quietly before stealing into your room. His heart fluttered when he saw you, the only sound in the room your soft breathing and the only movement the light rises and falls of your chest.

He sat next to you on the bed, feeling the way the mattress dipped beneath him, and placed a hand on your cheek, rubbing small circles into your skin. He watched you for a while, resting his arm on your shoulder and gazing down at you, fingers playing with your hair or knuckles grazing across your face, before he smiled. He’d be good to you, real good. Treat you like a princess, just the way you deserved. No more stress, no more hard work. Just smile and look pretty. He wanted you so bad, fuck, even right now, but he promised himself to take it real soft, real slow, real sweet. Just for you, his perfect girl.

-

His heart almost stopped when he saw your eyes open, eyelashes fluttering, cheeks flushed. He’d been sitting on his bed, admiring your sleeping form, lightly rubbing small circles onto your cheeks with the backs of his knuckles, just like last night. Except, now you were really here, in his bed, with him. Made him want to kiss you and hold you and fuck you, all at once. Couldn’t do that yet, though. But God, he was so excited to see you, couldn’t stop himself from thinking about you, had to pull himself away from work cause he couldn’t get anything done, even made you breakfast in bed. But seeing your waking face not be that of immediate adoration, even though that’d be a little insane to ask for, broke his heart. Seeing your eyes widen and your brows furrow as your mind raced to explain where the hell you where and how this happened made his chest tighten with guilt. Poor baby. He’d make it better, make it all better, pinkie promise.

“Hi, hi.” He cooed, still caressing your cheek. Immediately, you flinched backwards, finally noticing him. But he kept going, keeping his voice quiet, low, like he was talking to a frightened, injured animal. “‘m Leon, okay? Don’t be afraid, just gonna take care of you, sweetheart.”

You opened your mouth to speak, to scream out, to cry for mercy, to beg to be let go, he couldn’t tell, but instead, with a small, cracked voice, you asked, “What?”

He moved his hand upwards, rubbing circles with the pad of his thumb on your temple. He saw the way your eyes were glossing over and the way your eyebrows scrunched and the way your lips trembled beneath him and he felt so terrible for doing this to you but at the same time you looked so fucking pretty he wanted to do it over and over again. Shit. He didn’t mean to think that way, that was so mean. Didn’t mean to, not at all. It was an accident, honest. He sucked in a breath, realizing he’d been visibly hesitating for a few seconds. Remembering what he was trying to do, he reached behind him, grabbing a fork and a plate, still a little warm, bringing a piece up to your mouth. “Just wanna take care of you, baby.” He spoke softly, trying to hide all his earlier thoughts. “It's just French toast. Nothing else in it.” He promised.

You grimaced. "No."

He opened his mouth to try to reason with you, explain that he just made it and there really was nothing in it and you needed to eat, but he could tell you were scared. He swallowed, setting the plate aside. He scooted a little closer on the bed and kept talking, all soft and sweet, “Haven’t been looking after yourself for the past month, have you?” He asked. “Just wanna help you, angel. Don’t need anything in return. No work, no chores, nothing, okay?” He murmured.

He watched your face for a few seconds, expression twisting from panic to confusion to disbelief. “What the fuck are you talking about?” You whispered, all hissy and teary eyed and confused and scared. “Oh my God, what, you can’t, fuck, what are you talking about?” You repeated, almost incoherent.

He just shushed you gently, placing a thumb to your lips. “Shhh. I told you. 'm just gonna take care of you.” He cooed.

You squirmed uncomfortably beneath him, trying to escape out from under him only to have his wrap land around your throat, pressing lightly enough to hurt only a little but enough to warn you to stop squirming. He hated squirming. He felt bad, really bad for threatening his poor girl, but your reaction was starting to be a little frustrating. He sighed. “C’mon, it’s not that bad. Just gonna keep you here for a little, unless you wanna stay more,” he smiled. “Get you back on your feet, sweetheart.”

For some reason, you suddenly stilled. He noticed, and he also noticed the way your entire expression grew dazed, but he just kept on talking, almost rambling, enjoying your silence and your stillness, kept murmuring sweet nothings to you, his perfect, perfect girl. He was telling you how much he loved you and how long he’d been waiting to take you home and just how God damn excited he was when you interrupted him.

“I’m gonna,” you stuttered. “‘m gonna throw up.”

The sounds of your dry heaving over the empty toilet were the only sounds in that bathroom, echoing, bouncing off the walls. Sick, pitiful noises. Leon leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, as you gripped the sides of the toilet like your life depended on it, knuckles turned white from the pressure and the rest of your appearance disheveled. He knew what you were thinking, knew that you were panicking about the fact you’d never met him before and who the hell was he and Jesus was he a psycho? And was he in love with you? Oh God, what was he saying about you not taking care of yourself? Was he watching you? Must’ve been watching you, or how else would he know? He saw you wretch even harder. Nothing came out. He grimaced. 

“It’s not that bad, baby. Promise.” He said, approaching slowly. You were sobbing now, not even trying to vomit anymore. Not like you could, anyways. “C’mon,” he asked, tone dropping a little. Your chest rose and fell faster. Frightened little thing.

“Fuck,” you whispered, voice cracking, and he couldn’t tell if it was because he just kidnapped you or because nothing was coming up. You sat back from the toilet, crawling backwards into the corner farthest from Leon, mumbling, begging, crying something like go away go away please please please. You kept on repeating yourself, sometimes stopping to swallow and bringing a hand up to your chest or your throat because it hurt so bad or maybe you just couldn't breathe. He was trying to comfort you, let you know he wouldn’t hurt you and he loved you and it was okay and you were okay, but you just kept curling further in to yourself, crying now replacing the sounds of your dry heaving, face all red and eyes a little puffy and voice completely broken as you begged about something, but at this point you were just incoherent.

Leon stepped forward and you flinched back, and he let out a little sigh, leaning against the bathroom wall and staring at your poor, shivering form, brushing his hand through his hair, completely exasperated, and thinking What am I going to do with you?

- A few hours earlier, he was stirring coffee in the breakroom, absently glancing up at the television, when he recognized a familiar pair of tired eyes. Huh, he thought. He sipped his coffee as he watched your parents crying on live television, almost incoherent, recounting all the details he already knew about you. He felt a little pang in his heart, knowing that he took away these people's only child, only daughter, but it was for the best, wasn't it? He was taking such good care of you, and though you would never admit it, he could see the way you were slowly brightening up, the way life was returning to your drained body. He was doing a good thing. He was a good person.

Now, a little later, with keys jingling in his finger, he whistled softly, listening to the small click as the door unlocked and he slipped inside quietly. It’d been about two weeks since he’d… kidnapped? you. He wouldn’t say kidnapped, maybe taken instead. It’d been two weeks since he’d taken you. Sounds a little better. He pulled his shoes off by the door, debating whether or not to call out to you that he was home. It was dark already, so you were probably hiding, shivering under his blankets and clutching that little bear he’d bought you, as if that’d stop him from finding you. He sighed a little. This was taking longer than he thought it would. Would’ve thought you’d have at least warmed up to him by this point.

There were only two lights on, one above him and the other a little farther away by the dining table, leaving the rest of the room in a semi-darkness. He saw your half eaten bowl on the kitchen counter. He yawned, setting his coat on the rack and slipping his keys into his back pocket. He’d have to hide them later. Remembering an earlier text from Chris, he leaned against the wall, taking out his phone to check his messages. He watched the loading sign, watched it swirl and swirl and swirl around nothing. Finally loaded. He tapped on Chris’s icon and skimmed something about a work party. He yawned again. He’d deal with it tomorrow. He was slipping his phone into his other pocket when he heard your voice, soft and strangely deferent. “Leon?” you asked.

He looked up, a little surprised to see you standing there, your silhouette outlined by the light behind you. He was surprised to see you in one of his shirts, completely oversized on your frame. He realized it’d already been a few seconds, passing by with him just staring at you. It wasn’t a bad thing, though. You were just so pretty, how could he not? When he finally snapped himself out of his daze, he yawned again, “Yeah, baby?”, finding himself walking instinctively towards you.

You were fidgeting with your fingers. Your eyes darted from him to the door, from him to the door. Can’t be asking to leave now, can you? Or maybe you were asking for something. He was about to prompt you to finish what you’d started when you finally spoke up.

“I felt…felt really lonely today.” You murmured, looking down at the floor, at your bare feet on the cold ground. Kicked at the ground a little. “Missed you. Didn’t um…” you trailed a little, eyes wandering slightly upwards. “Didn’t know what to do.”

Huh, he thought. His heart fluttered a little at your words, making his chest feel warm and light. He smiled at you. “That’s sweet. Missed you too, missed you so much.” He said. “Was thinking of you the whole day, angel.” He was standing right above you now.

For some reason, he thought he saw you grimace a little. But it was a momentary thing. He probably imagined it. You finally looked up at him, finally made eye contact for more than a split second. He could tell you wanted to say more, that what he said wasn't exactly what you hoped for. What you did want? He didn’t know.

Looking down at you, he stared in silent anticipation, in absolute adoration. His heart fluttered. Just as he lifted his hand up to brush away a stray hair on your cheek, you leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your face in the dip between his neck and shoulder. He huffed in surprise a little, holding you against him as you shivered.

"Really missed me, huh?" He laughed, rubbing circles against your back. He was so happy. So happy he could die.

He held you against him until you pulled away, looking up at him with your perfect doe eyes, asking him to come to bed with you. Nothing sexual, you just wanted someone near you. His heart jumped, and so did his dick, but he nodded, willing to ignore his needs for yours. He promised to join you soon, watching you pad off to his bedroom, needing to go finish some nightly chores. He headed to his office, brain so full of rushing, giddy thoughts that he didn't notice the unusual quietness when he walked or even the strange emptiness in his back pocket.

--

You were dragging your nails down his skin like some feral animal, nose red and cheeks flushed and eyelashes all wet and matted, tears freely flowing down from your pretty doe eyes. He grabbed you from behind, placing a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries as you sobbed and weakly writhed against him. He held you close to him, hand on your face and an arm wrapped around your waist. He was about to say something, to tell you just how disappointed, how pissed off he was, when his voice caught. A minute ago, maybe two, he'd found you at 3 a.m. in the morning, fucking with his front door and his keys, you ungrateful idiot, yet here he was now, tongue tied. He barely got a syllable out before he stopped himself, cursing you when he realized he was getting all breathy, his face flushing a little, his pants growing tighter. Fuck, was he getting off to this? That’s sick. He was sick. He was getting off to the idea, no, to the sight of you choking. Made him feel all warm and fluffy inside for all the wrong reasons. Actually, he was getting off to the idea of raping someone. Jesus, Leon. Fuck. He was getting off to the idea of raping you. Damn.

He held you against his chest, staggering backwards to lean against the wall for support. He hissed curses under his breath next to your ear, warning you to keep still. He couldn't stand squirming. Made things so much more difficult. It was hot though. God damn. Fuck. Fuck. He wanted to scream. Shout at you, maybe. He didn't know. Hearing your muffled pleas, something stirred within him, pent up and tired and angry, and for some sick reason, he didn't lift his palm from your mouth, instead wrapping his arm around your neck, pressing your windpipe in between his forearm and bicep, hissing in your ear, "Shut the fuck up."

He sucked in a breath, closing his eyes, ignoring your begging and yet at the same time reveling in it. He needed to think. Needed to think about what the fuck he was doing. He felt you hiccup against him, felt your warm tears drip onto his cold skin, and Jesus Christ his dick was harder than ever. He loosened his grip on your throat, hearing you gasping for breath, not even trying to beg him to stop. He slumped a little, guilt climbing up from the depths of his wretched soul. He was still breathing hard.

When did you get his keys? He heard you sobbing apologizes now. How the fuck did you manage to snatch them without him noticing? He was running through all his interactions with you recently, unable to pinpoint when, where, how, until he remembered what happened just a couple hours ago. Oh. Oh.

"Feeling sorry, angel? Or feeling guilty?" He murmured into your ear, fighting to keep his tone flat. He was irritated enough that he had to stumble out of bed at three in the fucking morning, pissed that when he was still rubbing the blurriness from his eyes he found you trying each of his keys and still somehow failing at unlocking a fucking door, but at the same time, he was hurt, betrayed that you had tried to leave him, even entertained the passing thought of escape.

"Sorry, sorry, 'm so, so sorry," you sobbed against him, breathing erratic and your entire body shaking. What a mess. You could barely stand.

"Really?" His voice dropped. "Sorry for waking me up at three in the fucking morning? Sorry for stealing my keys? Sorry for lying to me, for betraying me?" For some reason, he couldn't feel anger at your escape attempt. Not like he wasn't angry, though. No, he was angry, but not because of that. You lied to him. Said you missed him in that sweet voice, looked up to him with those big, innocent eyes, shivered against him and said you missed him, all just for some bigger plan. He was almost disgusted.

He heard your incoherent, pathetic pleas for mercy. He wasn't hearing you out, though. He grabbed you, tossing you over his shoulders and headed to his bedroom.

He kicked the door shut and threw you down onto the mattress, watching you cry and shiver and open your mouth to scream. Nothing would come out, though. He felt his hands fumble with his belt, with his jean's zipper. He dimmed the lights. Maybe he wouldn't feel as bad if he couldn't see your face. Maybe.

He found himself crawling on top of you, slipping his hands up your shirt. He wanted to be mad, wanted to be able to take out his anger on you, choke you and slap you and bruise you and bite you, mark you as his, fuck you so hard you wouldn't ever think of escaping again, but he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to hurt you, even when you deserved it. At least not that way. He cursed you under his breath as his hands found your breasts, kneading and grabbing and even twisting your nipple between his thumb and index. You cried out, all pathetic, squirming beneath him. His heart softened, just a little.

"Shh, don't cry. Don't cry." He murmured against your ear. He heard your loud swallows, and looking at you, looking into your eyes, he saw your lovely, naïve face twisted into one of pure terror. Maybe even disgust. He felt so bad, but it wasn't his fault. He tried to be so good to you, treat you all soft and sweet, take it real slow, make it romantic, make it easy. But he was just a man. You committed the crime. It wasn't his fault. Not his fault. He heard himself groan a little, even as your hands pitifully shoved against his chest, even as you tearfully begged him to stop. He was just a man.

The bed creaked, and you cried, and his breathing just kept getting heavier and heavier. He tried to ignore the slight tightening of his throat, the just noticeable watering of his eyes. He couldn't hurt you. He couldn't. But he was, he was hurting you in the worst way possible. His heart broke as he watched you flinch, but his dick somehow hardened every time you sobbed, as you somehow tightened with every wince.

He gripped your hips to pull you up against him with each thrust, and at the same time tried to ignore the way you gripped the sheets, knuckles white, face frozen in pain and pleasure and fear. He had to stop himself from crying a little. You felt so wonderful, though, looked so pretty, even now. He leaned his forehead against yours, felt you rock beneath him. "Sorry, 'm so sorry," he murmured with each thrust, voice clouded by lust, apologetic even as he raped you. He still loved you. Really did. But still, he didn't stop, shutting his eyes instead as if that would make all his guilt disappear.

-

You'd been acting nicer for the past two weeks. Compliant, deferent, soft and malleable. Your voice was always low, sometimes to the point he'd have to ask you to repeat. You didn't say much anymore, not like you did before. There was a heaviness in your movement, like everything you did was a struggle. He'd notice it when you woke up, with the morning light streaming in through the window, his arm wrapped around you, holding you close to him, and you just wouldn't move. He'd brush his nose against your neck, murmuring soft Good morning's and How're you feeling?'s, but you just wouldn't move. You'd sit there like a corpse, cold and apathetic, yet your flesh was still so warm and your skin so soft.

He'd wonder about that while he brewed your morning tea, watching you slump against the dining room chairs, staring out the window, staring into stillness. He'd talk to you the whole time, trying so hard to coerce some sort of response other than your one word answers or your quiet hums, but nothing would come out. Your eyes were constantly glazed over, like an unending cloudy day. It wasn't all bad, though. All those jokes about women existing to be looked at, not to be heard? You were just that. He was just a man, you know.

He came home from work a few hours ago, whistling, keys jingling as he spun them on his fingers. Now, you were curled up together on the couch, your back to his chest, engulfed by the darkness of the early winter night like a heavy blanket, your form illuminated only by the blue light of the TV. He had some random local channel on. It didn't matter. Only you mattered.

After that incident, you stopped squirming in his arms, stopped trying to escape his grip or lose his touch. Instead, you just sat there like a pretty doll, just like you were meant to. You let your entire body weight slump against him, let your head rest in the crevice between his neck and shoulders. He pet your hair, brushing his fingers through each strand, gently detangling. He wrapped his arms around your torso to hold you close to him, and he hummed in contentment. "Missed you, baby." He watched your head slowly perk up to look at him, expression all dazed and dumb. So pretty. "What'd you do today?" he murmured quietly, looking into your glassy eyes and brushing away a stray hair.

You had a neutral expression on your face as you thought the question over. It took you a few seconds to respond. "Slept."

The TV, which he vaguely recognized to be playing a news channel, buzzed in the background. He laughed a little at your response. It made him so happy that you even spoke. "Really? Slept all day, but you still look so tired." He teased, almost commenting on the growing bags beneath your eyes but holding himself back. You just nodded in response, laying your head back down on his shoulders.

One hand rubbing soothing circles on your back and the other still playing with your hair, his mind started to drift. Not to anything in particular, though. He wondered what that secretary at work was writing down, what Chris and Wesker were talking about, just little, curious things. He felt your breathing slow, and he suddenly felt so warm inside, knowing that you could fall asleep against him. His breath right against your ear, he murmured, "Night, sweetheart," and looked up at the TV, noticing a missing person's report.

A random boy returned his gaze. The camera panned to shots of a forest, and a news reporter recounted all the details. Name? Jack Reed. Age? Seven years old. Last sighting? Three days ago, heading into the woods for some reason, somewhere. Leon didn't care. What he did care about, though, was that this meant that the world had already moved on. Everyone had stopped looking. Or at least, the public gaze had already shifted. Now, they were looking for someone new. And the week after that, someone else. And with each passing week, the world would forget about you, and that just left more for him. So he just kept on brushing his fingers through your hair, humming quietly to himself. You were his girl now, his perfect, perfect girl, and maybe he hadn't made it real soft, hadn't taken it real slow, maybe even the opposite, but at least now, he could make it real sweet.

#sicko's #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #stalker leon kennedy #kidnapper leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x y/n #writing ೃ⁀➷

[kachimera]

Sometimes The Tags are a fun and fine experience and sometimes you gotta hold yourself back to avoid engaging in mass genocide with various degrees of success

#i had to read 'sara is a boring character i'd be better if she had a tragic romance w walter' from a nfcv fan w my own two eyes #oh my god tell me you dont dont know shit abt LoI without telling me #i know she suffers from being a damsel in distress/motivational dead wife but #imagine ignoring the story potential of the vk and her dual tragedy w Leon/the belmonts so you can ship her w her kidnapper #plus have you seen walter??? like. do you even know him beyond name????? #is this what mina harker fans had to deal with thanks to 92' movie drac. im so sorry girls #anyways i know its bad manners to vague-vent abt others like this but. man #thank god for the block button #delete later #me rambles

[somuchbetterthanthat]

I spend a lot of time thinking about Leon Stamatis but sometimes I'm hit by the thought of Michael Tate

Michael who saw a traumatized Nica on TV and drove to Wonderland to pick her up moment after learning his best friend was dead ; Michael, a recovering alcoholic, who sat next to a man who was basically enabling him to relapse and went "you know what? No. I'm chosing today not to do that." and stick to it ; Michael who got trapped into an evil lair and decided the best course of action was to help literally everybody to the point of forgetting about himself and almost dying ; Michael who sent kind, earnest letters to everyone he knows trying to make them (feel) better ; Michael who decided to give Philippe a chance ;

Michael "he could be a villain in my story and a hero for others" Tate about the man who Literally Planned to Murder Him;

I just?? Michael Tate, man.

#In a way perhaps Leon had to die because the power of Leon's kindness and Michael's might have been too much for the world #like man i want so many fics where someone meets michael and leon together and they're like #oh no too much good in one room god help me #depending on the kind of person you are you assume one of them is more approchable/less so inherently kind and wise at first #but you're WRONG #greater boston #having random feelings on a tuesday as ever etc. #also i'm still thinking Michael's biggest power move was to meet his kidnapper's ex-wife #and go 'oh i like her' #and SHE LIKES HIM BACK

[applebunch]

.........ok so is anybody else thinking about that one part of the episode where leon hears michael for a second? like anybody else? what does that mean? is leon gonna get michael back? what the hell's gonna happen when leon gets michael back?

in episode 30, leon compares michael to a summer's day to "flipper, rushing to the aid of a floundering diver," because when "everything fell to chaos, ...[michael] guided [their] way through it." comparing "chaos" to water.

leon compares getting overwhelmed by his omniscience to drowning.

he says that he can only focus on so much at a time (like filling a mere glass with water and drinking it).

because if he focused on EVERYTHING, it would overwhelm him, (filling the entire house with water, drowning himself).

he is. definitely drowning right now.

you know what flipper does? save drowning people.

if leon gets michael back, will he try to rely on michael in that way? and if he does, how would that go over with michael himself? idk about you, but i can't help but get the impression that if leon started narrating michael again, michael would maybe like... notice, somehow?

#i yell into the abyss #greater boston #greater boston spoilers #michael tate #leon stamatis #first off: why WAS leon able to hear michael. second: there is no way that's just going to happen once for no reason #we are DEFINITELY getting that again #(unless it's like. michael was nervous about going to the house of his kidnapper's ex-wife. but the scene leon listens in on is. #michael playing with. like. four dogs. so.) #greater boston podcast #<- gotta start posting in that tag specifically more for the people who only look in that tag #(for those of you who don't know. uh. the normal “greater boston” tag is surprisingly functional!) #(basically no one uses it aside from greater boston fans. it's kinda surprising) #(most people are using that one!)

[ryoukio]

Revendread Leon in a skirt. Just wanted to practice some Lineless art.

Regular Leon version under the cut.

#Ryoukios art #fanart #re #resident evil #leon s kennedy #revendread leon #I need to get better at making the shading more defined me thinks. #also drawing hands #This is my ygo crossover au that I only talk about in one discord server #he and Hunnigan are teaming up #and by teaming up I mean she’s hiding him from the government and other kidnappers #And he’s just happy be somewhere that isn’t a burning hospital

[wispandwhispers]

I went to see Phantom of the Opera in the West End yesterday and oh my fucking god

#i went to the merchandise table during intermission and the worker told me this was her favourite play #i get that #i absolutely get that #it was utterly beautiful and had me gasping at times #the sopranos voice was an utter marvel #erik is technically kidnapper but like idc really #the special effects oh #OH #phantom of the opera #i went with a friend and we are planning to go to the west end at least once every half term #next on the bucketlist is wicked #don't go to the leon in central london they charged me twice for a burger

[virgincels]

SCHADENFREUDE !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. p in v, kidnapper/victim relationship, stockholm syndrome, he puts u in the trunk of his car :3, sorta painal, squirting, slapping/hitting a lot.. of it, not non-con or dub-con but he keeps calling it that idk, painful sex, suicide mention cuz it’s leonnnn, sadism

note. haiii a follow up to rotten luck title has nothing to do w the fic i think :3 his character changes like every 5 mins im sorry .. readers character changed a lot too omg just blame it on stockholm! umm sorry for any mistakes please ignore them :3 rbs and feedback so appreciated :3

rotten luck

tumblr removes fics that use, for example, tw non-con and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

“What’re you doing?” With a foot in the door, Leon spots you hunched over the mantlepiece.

You jump like you do when he makes a noise over thirty decibels. Luckily, you’re housebroken now, just about, so there’s no piss. Or tears. He has no desire to deal with tears. Or piss or any fluid for that matter. Leon has bad days, and then he has worse days, then there are awful days– It’s only a bad day, but that doesn’t mean he wants to spend his time forcing your head into a puddle of your own piss. Fundamentally, piss is not his concern, he’s potty-trained and has been for a good thirty-four years. He’d like to think a good forty-three years, but he was a criminal bedwetter up until the ripe age of twelve. Foster system does that to you. You make the piss Leon’s concern when you do it on his floor–

“What’re you doing?” Leon asks once more when he wrenches himself away from his piss tangent. He decides to let you off for not answering the first time ‘cause he’s generous like that. Quietly, as everything you do is scarce and ghostlike, you point at the printed photos on his mantle with great interest. There’s three because Leon only really gives a shit about three people. They shouldn’t be out in the open like that. Leon doesn’t remember leaving them out, so he’d like to blame you, but maybe this is a sign of early-onset dementia.

“Who’s she?” You nod to Ashley first, pressed to his side so tightly, so lovingly, so sure that he loves her bombardment. Her affection, whatever it is that she insists it is. He thinks back to tearing her from the clutches of emaciated beings and wonders how he can stand here so normally. As if nothing ever happened. Ashley’s name is the one in the back of his throat, shattered and bloody like glass in a domestic dispute. Then again, he is face to face with his kidnapping victim and all. So it’s not very normal when he looks at the bigger picture. Far from normal, abnormal at the very least. Fucking deranged might be the right term.

“My ex,” Leon lies to see the look of disdain that crosses your face, the unpleasant curl of your lips that irons out when he pets your head. Whether it be for him or Ashley, he wouldn’t like to know. “Joking, baby, I saved her,” Leon settles on saved because there is no other way to explain it, and because he would love for you to know that they’re not his other kidnapping victims and that you’re his one and only kidnappee and he might be impulsive, but he’s not stupid enough to take pictures of and with kidnapped girls. Well, Ashley was a kidnapped girl, not his kidnapped girl, however.

Leon is very feminist, rescuing slender-ankled maidens is his speciality, you’re just an outlier. “I saved her,” he says when you nod at Manuela next, and then for Sherry, he pauses, “I saved her.” Sherry’s face goads him into cowardice, blowing his brains out is difficult when she’s sitting on his shoulder at all times like a Vatican cherub, covalently bonded to his heart or his soul. Whichever matters after you die. “You want a picture too, baby? Autograph?” He kisses your kidnapped little fingers with the guilt of a man who has been pointlessly guilty all his life - now literally guilty by CJS standards for the four months you’ve been captive.

You smile at him, and consequently his drops. “I’m good,” you say, smiling your real smile. It upsets him. “I’ve got the real thing.” When you talk too much he remembers that you’re not a toy or a plaything or anything of the sort. That you’re a real girl.

Sometimes Leon has these moments of startling clarity. You kidnapped a girl ‘cause mommy didn’t love you enough, but daddy hit you hard enough to knock the functioning parts of your brain out of place. You kidnapped a girl ‘cause you got touched back in boot camp, ‘cause you’ve seen a couple hundred people die.

At this point, he simply can’t move on, but he can give up. Every night the gun under his pillow digs into the hollows of his skull. It’s just that Leon can’t leave you, his lucky little girl, he feels responsible for the state you’re in. Stockholm and all. That wasn’t his intention, he’d rather you be dead out of sheer terror, your frail little heart would give out mid Leon’s fucked up chimaera that is part nasty, hot sex and part brutal beating and the most he would have to do is bury your bones in his backyard.

Pretend you never existed. Your name fades into obscurity like every other name does. Your face is just another face. And no one truly cares in the end. America’s love is limited, its affections will go elsewhere, to a prettier kidnapped girl in California or a younger one in Maine. The police will pass you off as a runaway soon enough, and no one would ever have to mourn a bodiless casket. What a mess. Leon didn’t mean to be so charming, didn’t mean to make you fall for him, he didn’t know girls these days were so into getting raped on the daily. Now he’s facing the repercussions of his sex appeal. God forbid he exists in sexy peace.

You gotta make everything his problem, don’t you? Lucky little thing. Leon wonders if you’ve ever had to do anything for yourself. Wonders, ponders, thinks, but he won’t pry. ‘Cause it makes him feel, like, really fucking sucky. That he plucked you out of your perfect little life ‘cause his life is the shittiest little life in this piece of shit world.

He struggles to even utter your name– Your name, god, he bets it was picked out so delicately, so carefully– And that pisses Leon off ‘cause his dad named Leon after his favourite hooker, remove the A from Leona and there you have it! Italian enough for his ma too, hit a perfect sweet spot. Now he’s upset, the perennial guilt has wilted and he’s just fucking exasperated by you. By your luck. By your shamelessness. What twisted little bitch sits there and gloats about having the real thing in reference to her kidnapper. In actuality, it’s Leon that has the real thing.

Leon knocks you down like you’re made of styrofoam. That little yelp never gets old. You see, he’s been struck by this awful migraine and he wants you to feel the same. You should ache like he does, but you don’t ‘cause you’re young and healthy and he makes you go to bed at an appropriate time ‘cause it’s his duty as your kidnapper to make sure you don’t die out of neglect - death via beating is fine and understandable.

You sit at his feet so sweetly, a stray dog that’s wandered into the shrine of a lonely god, curling up at the foot of a wooden statuette to seek some form of solace. Unfortunately for you, Leon is no god, just a normal man with a heart and a soul and a dick that thinks for itself. He does what any man with a dumb dick would do - grabs you by the ankle and lugs you towards the bedroom like a deer carcass. It’s slightly comical, and he knows that ‘cause he hears you giggle a little.

“Rape is nothin’ to laugh about, sweetheart,” Leon says ‘cause that’s the plan, he drops you down on the bed with a thunk. Is it even rape when the other party, a very much kidnapped party, is enjoying it? Truly, you suck the joy out of his life.

“Sorry, Leon,” you go slack and stupid the second he gropes your tit, he’s not one for foreplay, it bores him most days. He’ll eat your pussy ‘cause he likes the taste, but he’s old and his cock is on its last legs and the moment his shit jumps to life it’s best to get it in ASAP.

“It’s okay, baby,” Leon lifts the hem of your shirt, “I know you’re really fuckin’ stupid, so don’t worry ‘bout it, yeah?” God, he’s way too nice. He pulls the shirt over your head and you’re left bare.

“Thank you, Leon,” You’re well-mannered, he’ll give you that, polite little thing, it's terribly endearing, has the walls of his gristly heart caving in.

“You’re very welcome, baby,” he hums, unzipping his jeans to get his dick out before it ultimately droops. Your cunt is sopping, takes to his fingers easily, he curls them upwards to hear those slick clicks. “Spread ‘em.” Leon taps your thigh, and you bend your knees outwards, a foot flat on the bed. It’s nice that you’re wet for him and all, does wonders for his ego, but loose holes are no fun.

“Not there,” you’re so cute when you whine, would look so cute stuffed in the trunk of his car, god. He’d even put a pillow between your thighs to give that cunt some friction. Keep you entertained while he drives aimlessly.

“Baby, you should know better,” Leon chides, spreads your ass and eyes up your tighter hole. “Didn’t ask you, did I?”

“Nuh-uh, Leon.” Comes your automated response.

“What did I tell you?”

“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” you relay the words like you’re reading from a rulebook.

Creepy. Makes him shudder. Maybe Leon did Stockholm you purposefully, he didn’t expect you to respond so well, he was just saying shit. Like, shit that comes out of his mouth when he’s horny, and your sick little brain took his word as law. So, like, that’s your fault and you’re making it his problem. ‘Cause everyone loves to make everything Leon’s problem.

“God, you’re such a clever girl, baby,” he coos because he is so kind and gracious, giving out praise left and right. The tip of Leon’s cock is sticky, drags it through the seam of your cunt to part your folds, kisses your clit with the fat head. There’s a slight gape to your puckered hole when he grabs your ass cheek to open you up. Leon’s forced his way in countless times before, it’s no different this time. With a cock lubed by precum and your drippy cunt, he pushes into your asshole mercilessly.

“That’s a cute face, sweetheart, you gonna do that for me again?” Leon asks, taking a handful of tit as he admires the pain washing over your face— The divot between your brows that he smooths over with his thumb, a quivering bottom lip, eyes screwed shut ‘cause you’re trying to take his fat cock like a good girl should. You make it so easy to hurt you.

“Leon,” you whimper when he bottoms out. His cock kicks inside you, he pulls out to be mean, carves out space and your hole flutters ‘cause it’s so empty— Leon forces his way back in, till the ring of muscle swallows up the base of his cock, and his balls smack wetly against the fat of your ass. Two fingers find their way into your sloppy pussy once more, he feels the ridges of his cock through the spongy, thin walls of your cunt, and you’re liking it too much, fucking him back far too enthusiastically when his thumb presses down on your pulsing clit.

“You’re gonna cum like this, sweetheart,” Leon tells you matter-of-factly, removes his fingers with a pop! and wipes the milky cream dribbling down his wrist on your tummy. “Can you do that for me?”

“No, Leon, I can’t,” you shake your head, trembling fingers wrapping around his wrist to guide him back to your puffy clit.

“Yes you can, baby, you’re gonna do it for me aren’t you?” He tuts, breaking free from your sorry excuse of a grip to lay a firm smack on your jaw. It sends your head to the right, hears your neck crack, he’s sure. “We don’t use words like ‘no’ do we?”

“No…”

Aw, that was a trick question— He gives you another smack to force your head to the left. A little brain damage goes a long way. Keeps you obedient. When you get over the dizziness and face him head-on, you try to blink away the tears to no avail, they roll down your cheeks in pearlescent blobs. Clicker training is unneeded when you have a firm hand. It’s worked so well, any mention of your life outside of the time spent in his home and he’s punching your lights out, now you talk to Leon about Leon, and you think of Leon, and you fuck Leon and you love him– Jesus, okay, he did Stockholm you real fucking bad. No wonder you’re so weird.

Leon rabbits into you, short and shallow thrusts ‘cause it’s harder for you to breathe that way with his cock constantly pushing and jabbing and— Fuck, he’s practically reshaping your insides at such a brutal pace.

“I knew you could do it,” Leon snickers, presses hard on your abdomen to help you cum— And you’re so cute when you do, writhing and lifting your hips up and just looking a little stupid. There’s a stuttered breath, then you’re squirting in sharp bursts, from his cock in your ass alone. “There we go— You did it, baby, did so well—“ He is so fucking sweet to you, talking you through your high and shit. “You love getting your ass fucked don’t you?”

When you don’t respond, too busy trying to recover from an orgasm that’s left you boneless, Leon knocks some sense into you. “I do,” you gasp, teeth clattering like they always do when he hits you. “I do, Leon, I do, I love it— Love you.”

Holy shit. He hates it. That’s what drives him over the edge, that’s what makes him fuck his load into your ass till it’s dripping back down his shaft, that’s what gets his legs all shaky? It sickens him.

“Do you love me, Leon? I love you so much, Leon,” you mumble to him feverishly when he dips low to rest his forehead on yours, a hand on your cheek.

“You’re growing on me, baby,” Leon says, kissing the spot on your cheek he hit less than a minute ago. “Go clean yourself up.” He checks his watch while you limp off to the en-suite. “I’m headin’ out soon.”

“What?” You poke your head past the door frame, genuinely distraught at this revelation. “But you just got home, Leon, I was so bored— Can I come with you?”

“Are you dumb, baby?” Leon blinks at you, and he knows the answer is yes already.

“I’ll just miss you, like, lots ‘n lots.” You’re padding towards him, seating yourself on his lap. He puts his hands on your hips to draw you in, you breathe in his scent. It can’t be pleasant, but you get something out of it. “I want to come with you, please. I won’t run away, Leon, I like it with you.”

“I know you won’t run away,” he hums, squeezing your hips. “What would you do without me? You’d just miss me, baby.”

“And I’m gonna miss you when you go now, Leon.” Your arms loop around his neck. This is fucking disgusting. You’re not his girlfriend, but his literal kidnapping victim and he’s all loved up, letting you stroke his hair and kiss his neck— Fuck, he hates it, hates that he likes you so damn much.

It’s not like he could get away with it. Claire’s got, like, a database in her head for all the fucking women in the world. One look at your face and she’ll know. And how the fuck are you meant to play that off? Bringing a missing girl as your date for the night.

“You can come with me,” he agrees, just not in the girlfriend way, but in the appropriate kidnapped girl way. With a gag in your mouth and your hands behind your back, tucked into his trunk like a cute, fleshy suitcase.

Zip ties are best, rope comes second, and Leon’s tie is probably not on the list of best kidnapping tools. He just wasn’t prepared to take you with him. He’s fairly new to the whole kidnapper thing, it’s quite exhausting.

The sun sets early these days, and it’s not like Leon lives in a crowded area. Only sign of life on the street is him. And you. Panties stuffed in your mouth as a makeshift gag, wrists tied together with the tie Hunnigan got him for Christmas. You could spit the panties out at any minute, but you don’t. You could break free from the shitty knot he’s tied, but you don’t. Leon must be good at this manipulation thing ‘cause you’re so damn docile, letting him lay you down like a corpse, move you around like one.

“All good?” Leon asks, tilts his head to the side as you stare up at him with glassy eyes. Not all good. You’re terrified. He can tell. You still nod though. “Good.” He kisses your head, then shuts you in.

Leon is already a bit of a nervous driver. His windows are blacked out at least. He always feels like he’s doing something wrong. Like there’s drugs planted in his glove compartment, or he’s got blood money on the backseat, or a cute girl in the trunk— Which he does, but he doesn’t usually have a cute girl tied up in the trunk. He usually does get a ticket or two though, able to charm his way out of it, flash his ID.

There isn't a single noise from you, not even a thump, and it worries him. Leon considers pulling over, but he drives on white-knuckled and shaky. Hopes you haven’t rolled out without him noticing. Been flattened by a truck. Jesus Christ, he thought something about this would be gratifying, but his nerves have spiked and unlocked a new level of anxiety. He should hand himself in right now– Obviously, he doesn’t do that, and he parks up outside Claire’s apartment instead, and he is going to check on you, he is, he was–

“Oh, hey you!” Sherry takes him by surprise, her hand is small in his, but it’s calloused. Doesn’t feel like it did when he held it the first time. Even smaller and bloodied. When she smiles at him, soft wrinkles form. “You’re on time,” she comments, and he wants to die because there is a girl in his trunk.

“Right on, kiddo!” He says to Sherry who is thirty-seven and married. Leon would like to think he does well in high-pressure situations, he does do well in high-pressure situations. That’s a fact. He’s great in end-of-the-world-type scenarios, great at saving America from impending doom, he could do it with his eyes closed– Facing the closest thing you have to family not as yourself, but as a creepy, old rapist is insanely difficult and he would prefer to never do it again. However, he is exactly that, plus a kidnapper, so Leon will continue to do it for the rest of his days.

“Are you okay, Leon?” The corners of her lips are downturned– She knows, oh god, she knows, and she’s never going to look at you the same, and she’ll hate you for the rest of her life– “You’re not sick, are you? I heard there was a bug going around, Jake got sick today that’s why he couldn’t come.” Fuck Jake. Leon dislikes him. Her hair is longer, long enough to fall over her shoulders. He’d tell her to cut it, in their line of work it’s a risk, but she looks how she used to look, and Leon can’t say anything to her.

“No, I’m just, I’m cold, it’s cold, right? It’s cold out here, let’s go inside– Claire’s waiting,” he says very smoothly, totally without a single fumble.

“What is up with you?” Claire scans his guilty face when she opens the door, scans it like a robot, not like an observant human. She steps aside to let Sherry in, kissing the shorter girl’s cheek, and then she blocks Leon from entering. “My pipes are bust, Leon.”

“Okay? Can’t help you with that, babe.” Leon is not a fucking plumber. Doesn’t look like one in the slightest. He’s handsome like a washed-up actor, he knows that much is true, does not fit the bill for a plumber.

“You look like you need to shit really bad.”

“God, I don’t, I’m just fuckin’ cold.” Leon shows her his shaky hands as proof. It’s not proof ‘cause these are kidnapper shakes.

Claire stares at him. Ineffable. Unflappable. She scares the shit out of him, might really end up on her busted toilet if she scrutinises him to this degree all night. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good, I’m great– I’m cold, I’m fine,” he says normally because he is a normal man with a heart and soul and dick and balls and credit. All the shit normal guys have. And a girl in the trunk, he’s got that too. The cast-iron doubt in Claire’s eyes has Leon on edge for the rest of the night. It never dissipates. Or she’s just looked that way her whole life and Leon’s overthinking it.

“Nah, Leon hates those, don’t you?” Sherry nudges his shoulder.

“Huh?” Leon says intelligently, he’s painfully aware of his blundering efforts at socialising. Painfully aware of you. In his trunk. Cold, scared, and wet ‘cause you’re fucked up. He hates a lot of things like assless chaps and seven-eleven beer and swans. He drinks seven-eleven beer anyway. Does not wear assless chaps though. And he’d prefer to keep it that way. Swans piss him off ‘cause they're beautiful and violent and beautiful things should be passive like you are. Beautiful things were put on this earth to be gawked at. Beautiful things belong tied up in his car.

“Parrots,” she smiles at him again and he’s hit by a wave of nausea.

“What about ‘em?”

“Me and Jake want to get a pet, I’ve always wanted a parrot, you promised to get me one when I was a kid,” Sherry says, it’s not even to guilt trip him, just factual, but Leon feels like the shittiest guy alive, he’s very good at feeling bad.

“I do hate them,” Leon confirms, “They talk too much.” Pets are pets. They roll over, show off their bellies, wag their tails, they shouldn't speak.

“That’s what I like about them!”

Leon gets a headache when you speak for even a minute, that’s why he couldn't deal with a parrot. Or any pet other than his lucky girl ‘cause at least she’s smart enough to know when to shut up.

“It’s not like they talk a lot.” Claire fills her wine glass for the nth time. “They speak when spoken too,” she says while blinking at Leon so directly he thinks she might’ve put cameras in his house to see if he’s being as feminist as he claims he is. “And you can teach them names, I think it’s cute.”

“We took care of a puppy last year, a friend’s one, but Jake doesn’t like dogs at all. Poor thing, she got car sick when we took her out, she was in the back on her own, and she must’ve been so scared-”

A dog in the back of a car all on her own. God, doesn’t that sound familiar? Did you get car sick? Should he have checked up on you? Fuck, you might’ve choked to death on your own car sickness by now. The clock ticks and Leon checks his watch about ten times within five minutes. He can’t leave first. He never leaves first– Oh, fuck, but what if you’re fucking dead? He prays you aren’t. He would appreciate it if you were alive.

“I don’t… I don’t feel great,” Leon says not convincingly when he stands up, then he bends to kiss Sherry on the head. “I love you, sweetheart, we’ll catch up next time, alright?” And he doesn’t give either of them a chance to respond properly. Collecting his keys from the table, his jacket, his gun.

Leon, don’t you want to finish– Leon, you’re leaving– Call me when you get back– I’ll miss you, Leon– Text me back– Should you be driving–

He would love to reassure Sherry, tell her that he’ll miss her so much he could die and that he promises to text Claire back on time, and that he’s perfectly capable when it comes to drunk driving. but he’s pretty sure he’s got a missing dead girl in his trunk. Leon wonders if they can see him clearly from Claire’s fifth-story window. They don’t care about what he’s doing, but the probability that they might be able to see what he’s doing, acting all shady, is scary. The street lights flicker, and when he opens the hatch, he’s bathed in the glow of your halo. Hail fucking Mary and Joseph and Jesus. You’re there, eyes frantic, and very alive, panties still stuffed in your mouth. Could’ve spat those out by now, but you’re a good girl.

“Fuck,” Leon sighs, he smiles like he loves you. “Hi, baby, did you have fun?” He hunches over to get a better look at you, you’re in the position he left you in, on your side, balled up, almost foetal. He slaps your tit, pinches your cheek, pokes your ass like he’s giving you a physical. You shake your head. “No?” Leon pouts at you, then he leaves you in the dark by slamming the lid. The thrill has sorta settled in, or he’s just tipsy, ‘cause he’s giddy about it, about having you back there. Highways are fairly empty at this time, and so now that he’s boosted by you not being dead and cognac, Leon parks up on the side of the road. Opens up his trunk, again, it’s the most he’s ever used it, shit is gonna fall off its hinges.

“You saved me,” you say when he takes your spit-soaked panties out of your mouth. “You found me, sir, I was so scared, I-I thought I was going to die in here.”

Leon’s confused for a second, then he gets it. You’re roleplaying as… as a kidnapping victim. Which you already are. So it’s like the Droste effect, or holarchy, or more simply a thing within a thing. You’re letting him take on the hero part, which he’s most familiar with, he’s good at being the good guy, that’s why Leon is a pretty crummy kidnapper. “I saved you,” Leon says flatly, he goes with it. “You should suck my dick to say thank you.” He didn’t mean to say that so soon, he was gonna play along for longer, but you made him really fucking hard just then. Teary-eyed, snotty, looking so cute and sweetly kidnapped.

Waiting for your response isn’t his style. Leon had his dick out before you even spoke, he was planning on just stuffing it in your mouth, but you went and made up a little story in your head to get him even harder. He shuffles forward, wipes the tip on your lips, slaps it on your cheek.

“C’mon, open up, baby.” You nose at the underside of his cock, then take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and giving it to him so well, how he likes it, choking once you get to the balls. Leon places a hand on the back of your head, forces you still as he pounds your throat, hearing you gag and heave brings him comfort, ‘cause you're struggling and he loves to make you struggle, loves to make you work for it. You've had it too easy, and now you’ve started liking the sex (read: rape), so Leon’s glad he can hurt you without you getting off on it. “Okay, okay, that’s enough, baby, you can stop that now,” Leon says like he wasn’t skullfucking you into a coma, his cock slips past your lips, strings of saliva beading your chin, your neck, your tits.

The trunk is kinda small, when he puts you on your front, your head rests on the backseats, and your legs dangle over the edge. “Can you untie me, sir?” You ask in a scratchy voice, throat shredded.

Leon ignores you. He’s busy scoffing at how fucking soaked you are, misses the days he had to spit on your cunt to get it wet, when he felt all big like his cock was imposing ‘cause you were so dry he had to force his way in, and you would scream so loud it sliced his skin, and he would groan for that contrapuntal effect ‘cause hurting you is the best thing he’s ever felt. Better than opioids, better than regular sex, better than a scalp massage, better than anything that feels mildly great.

Your cunt swallows his shaft too well, and it is hot to know you’re so far gone now, but would it kill your pussy to show some form of resistance? He knocks his hips forward so hard the car jolts, thrusts all his weight into you, so his cock is doing nothing but harm, breaking your cunt in, going past your cervix, womb-fucking and all that good shit. It doesn’t get further than your cervix for obvious reasons.

‘Cause his dick is not a knife, it’s a dick and it twitches when you clench. He likes having a dick, he likes to fuck with it, likes to stick it in places it shouldn’t be, likes to disfigure and wreck and ruin with it - fly in the ointment is that it’s not immune to stupid, sloppy holes that beg for it. Leon shudders, keeps himself buried to the hilt, rolls his hips forward so the tip jabs the fleshy, firm opening of your cervix in painful grinds.

“Leon,” you wheeze, twisting like you’re getting exorcised, “Leon— Leon, it hurts—“

“I know, baby,” Leon pats your ass, giving a sharp thrust forward to make you sob. “Keep talkin’ to me like that, turns me on.”

“Hurts so bad, hurts, Leon, ‘s gonna– ‘s gonna kill me, Leon– Don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die, please–”

“Shit,” he laughs breathlessly. That was hot. Girls begging for their lives ‘cause his dick is too good. When you turn to glance at him over your shoulder, his hips stutter. “Fuck, baby– You look fucked.” Like you’re terrified of him. That's how it should be. “Don’t go pushin’ me out,” Leon grunts, words punctuated by strokes that have you reeling in all the worst ways.

“I can’t–” Your head bumps the seats when Leon knocks you in the back of the head. Hard enough to stun you into silence.

“Can’t run from it, can you?” Leon bites down on your shoulder, momentary relief from the cruel drag of his cock inside your sticky cunt, now you can focus on his teeth. How he might tear into you. Eat you up. “Gotta take it for me, baby, ‘cause that’s what you're good for. No brains just got a stupid little cunt.” When he cums, you arch into him, and he fucks into you with all he’s got, till you’re stuffed full of his seed. Something to keep your belly warm for the ride home. Leon should get an award for being this considerate.

“Leon, can I sit in the front?” you sniffle, pathetic and floppy and orgasmless.

He sneers at you. “Do you want me to get caught, sweetheart? You wanna get taken away from me?”

“No, Leon…”

Click!

That was cathartic. Leon’s glad you’ve still got pain receptors, you’re not totally gone, clinging on for dear life, but still afloat. He carries his little body bag to the door. “Want a photo?” Leon sets you down on the ground, you cling to the back of his shirt as he struggles with his jammy lock.

“Oh, yeah!” You light up, “‘Cause you saved me!”

“Yeah, baby.” Leon ushers you inside. “I saved you.” From the boot of his own fucking car.

#leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

[dilfartist]

Selfish

Pairing; Yandere Leon Kennedy x reader

Synopsis; You escape your captor during one of his many missions. You stop by a diner searching for help. What will happen next? Find out by reading

Word count; 3.8K

TW; Kidnapping, non-con touching, Stockholm syndrome, maybe just a tad bit ooc, Yandere (obviously), obsessive behavior, cussing.

Notes; hopefully you enjoy reading. It’s not the best since I’m still maturing as a writer and because of my hiatus; but I hope you enjoy.

!Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!

Sapphire-embellished twilight transitions into dawn’s light blue hue bringing alongside the sun. Birds sang good morning to one another, on their side of the forest. You ambled down the road that ceased the strong odored forest from connecting.

You stared at the endless road up ahead. Night to morning, ahead of you was forest and road. Perhaps this reason is why your captor moved into the isolated forest since raccoon city incident.

Or maybe he wanted to live a life of normalcy given the opportunity; the monsters he claimed he fought, seemingly every month, stressed him greatly and you noticed. Plus, he mentioned he needed a vacation frequently.

You pause, double-checking onward on the ostensibly never-ending road. Was your hard work a waste of time?

Looking back on the way he treated you, you pondered if it would have been smarter to stay home. Most days he wasn't overbearing. Once in a while, he’d annoy you, other than that he was tolerable. Besides being unable to leave the house unattended and having no say in choices at times, he gave you more freedom than most.

But then you remember the day before. At the crack of dawn, he’d left for a mission: bidding you goodbye with a note and breakfast at your night table side. You were left all alone, so naturally you sought a form of entertainment.

The television; Which was your only option.

You were clicking through the television channels when you came across a crime documentary. The story was similar to your personal life so you continued to watch the channel.

The story was about a woman, age twenty-three, who was kidnapped for around four years. During her kidnapping, she fell deeply in love with her kidnapper to the point they had to detach her from the cop car when they arrested him.

In your situation, you’ve been abducted for at least eight months. Her situation only took a year till she developed Stockholm syndrome.

Clarified by the show as the psychological condition of a victim who identifies with and empathizes with their captor or abuser and their goals.

Learning this information a thought came to mind.

Would you become like her once it hits New Year's? Loyal to a man that took you away from society. No. You refused to allow the same situation to happen to you.

You’d never allow it to happen.

When it came to the relationship your captor so desperately longed for with you, you caused many difficulties to prevent any form of romance.

Any attempt at affection had him pushed away or smacked. Discussion about the past before your absconding was simply ignored. And in general, you kept your distance from him. Well, at least you tried to. He stays at your hip like a lost puppy majority of the time he has off work, talking your ear off. There was no way in hell you’d fall for him. Not after the months you spent in that isolated house.

Regardless of how certain you were, you mulled over it some more. You finally concluded running. So far, you felt regret and relief.

Out of nowhere, a loud reverberating sound of a car grew closer, arising behind you. You quickly spun around to see what the sound originated from.

The engine growled, sending a ping of fright to your heart. You spent no time thinking about Leon’s reaction to your escape. However, now your mind consumes thoughts of his response.

Could your captor's fury be so robust that the car in the distance embodied his rage? Knowing him since your best friend introduced you to the man becoming a rookie cop in raccoon city; you’ve never seen him enrage.

From time to time his witty replies and mean scowl would showcase his anger. Of course, that didn't mean his rage wasn't feasible. But never had you ever witnessed a stronger emotion from him.

Inching closer, you were able to discern the details of the car. It was a massive black car, with tinted windows. A car your captor might arrive home with after a mission. It announced its presence with its vociferous roaring.

You observe with dread blooming in the pit of your stomach, every other part of your body tingled.

Although the person driving the car was yet to be revealed, you were petrified, stuck in place like you had been glued onto the concrete below you.

It must be him.

Why else would they be heading so fast toward you?

Already, you’re willing to surrender. Your captor is a forgiving person when it comes to you, so there’s a likelihood he’ll forgive you if you cooperate.

Standing on the side of the road, you acquiescently wait for the car to stop. Waiting for him to take you back to your prison.

The car slows but even then it's at a fast pace. The car passes you momentarily. Slightly it reverses until the passenger window is in front of you. Unhurriedly, the shadowy window rolls down. In the driver's seat, instead of who you believed it to be, it was a woman.

She looked to be in her middle thirties. She wore black sunglasses in her strawberry-blonde hair, a red blouse with denim jeans. Her makeup reminded you of Jennifer Tilly in Bride of Chucky, but she wore a sweet smile.

“Oh my lord, are you alright darling?” The woman asked like you were a child outside without a jacket in the freezing winter.

You continued to stare at her. You wanted to say something, but your throat felt drier than sandpaper. You opened your mouth, wheezing a bit as you sipped the fresh air. “I don't know,” you responded as loud as you possibly could. So barely above a whisper.

“Do you know where you are?”

“No.”

“Are you safe?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

The woman shook her head disapprovingly, then she began to throw whatever laid in the passenger seat into the backseats. “Come on sugar, get inside. I’ll give you a ride.”

“Okay, thank you.”

She reached over and pushed the passenger door open. You entered the vehicle, settled in, and got comfy. You buckled in making sure you heard the reassuring click.

“There you go,” she commented with a smile. “Now, we're going to make a stop by a gas station, then we’ll find out what we can do with you. Is that alright?

You smiled back, “Yeah, I don't mind.”

The car began to ride forward and the air conditioning blew on your overheated body. You relished the cold air. You hadn't realized how hot it had been outside, even in the early morning. Where were you?

You put that thought aside. Now you needed to worry about something to drink and eat.

“Do you…have anything to drink or eat?” you glanced at the woman.

She nodded. “Of course sweety! Why didn't I offer before?” she looked away from the street to grab a half-empty bottle of water from the side of the driver's door. “Sorry, that's the only drink I have at the moment.” she apologizes.

Without a second thought, you unscrewed the cap off the water and chugged the water. Water had never tasted so refreshing before. It was like you’d been roaming in the desert for hours on end and finally found a source of water.

The woman glances at you. You must have looked crazy. “How long have you been out there?”

“Since eight last night.” You sounded better. No more raspy voice that hurts you to speak. “I should have packed a bag but something came up.”

Before you left the house last night, you weren't in your right mind. Your captor never gave you an exact time he’d be home. His return ranged between the eight at night, the dead of night, the crack of dawn, or the morning. Recently, he’d been arriving home at eight. Which is the reason you left with nothing. Looking back, you had no confidence in yourself at getting away. You believed you were going to be caught in a matter of ten minutes. Now look at you.

You turned to the woman, “Thanks…” She finishes the sentence with her name. “Amanda.” You nod rephrasing your sentence, “Thanks Amanda for picking me up.”

Amanda smiles again, this time wider showing off her pearly white teeth. “I couldn't just leave you out there. Now, what’s your name?”

You tell her your name and hope she somehow knows it. Maybe the news reported you missing when you weren’t watching. You hoped so.

Rather than freaking out, realizing she had found a missing person, she simply responded with a “nice to meet you.” You died a little at the rejoinder.

Did no one care enough to report your absence? Not your family or close friends, no one attempted to reach out to the police?

No. You’re just overthinking. Not everyone watches the news or actively looks for missing people. You just had to be around more people. Someone was bound to know your identity.

Still, you can’t ignore the way your hands shake at the thought of being forgotten.

“So what were you out there for? If you don’t mind sharing that is.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. What were you to say? Tell her the truth and find out she was with your captor the whole time or keep your mouth shut and have no help in case he does find you.

A white lie would help.

“Escaping my abusive boyfriend.”

A frown pulled at the woman’s plump lips, her eyebrows scrunching together at your answer. “Do I need to the cops, family members?”

“No,” you responded quickly and harshly. The car fell silent. You took a small breather before speaking. “No, thank you.”

“Please, tell me, is there anything else I can do to help you any further?”

You needed cash, shelter, and a job. There was only one thing you were sure she could help you with. “ I need money and a hotel.”

“Don't worry, I got you covered,” she said softly.

The car began to slow when she placed her foot on the break. She turned the car and moved into a spot that contained a combination of a gas station and an old fashion diner. She parked the car next to a gas pump, then powered it off.

She dug into the middle counsel, pushing around pens and important items, and pulled out a pink wallet. She unzipped the front zipper and pulled out some money.

Amanda held the cash out to you, “Here’s 100 dollars. There's enough for lasting food, a hotel to stay, and a bus.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt just to hug her tightly. “Thank you!” you repeat over and over, like an unanswered prayer. She returned the hug, telling you she didn't mind lending you some service. The hug ended and you needed to plan your next move. What would you spend your money on first?

Well, all you knew was what you’d spend what was given to you on something important.

You looked out the window. Your eyes shift toward the diner. Mo’s dinner was on the sign, “been here since the ’50s.” which was written below.

Right. Food. You haven't eaten since yesterday. Walking as long as you did, you tried to forget your hunger and focus on the main goal of finding shelter or at least some safety.

“I think I’ll have myself a hot breakfast!” you announced. Amanda unlocked the passenger door, “go right ahead. Enjoy your freedom.” You nod, fleeing the car akin to a little kid whose mother gave them money for an ice cream from the ice cream truck.

The entrance bell chimes when you open the door to the cream-colored establishment. Once inside, you settled yourself in a booth in the far back. An old jukebox plays aged music ranging from the 70s to the ’50. Besides you, there was a single person in the restaurant. A man at the bar sipping his morning coffee whilst reading the newspaper.

You extend your arm over to the menu across the table. The menu displays numerous appetizing dishes, varying from breakfast to a juicy steak dinner.

Flipping the page your eyes landed on a mouthwatering breakfast sandwich, including bacon, egg, and cheese.

“Hello ma’am, I’m Stephanie, I’ll be serving you this morning. What would you like?”

You placed the menu aside to give the waitress your whole attention. The woman was of average height, wearing a pink uniform that reminded you of the 50s. She wore a smile that did not reach her black doe eyes. “Did you hear any of that?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” you said sincerely, feeling anxious about possibly pissing her off. “Could I have a number six and a sweet tea?”

“Of course, is that it?”

“Umm…yeah, that’s it.”

“Alright then,” she replied disinterestedly. She left quickly, retreating to the kitchen.

You continue gazing at the closed door to the kitchen. What else could you do? You should have brought along something to entertain you, then again there wasn't much back at the house you called a jail cell. For the remainder of the waiting duration, you’d have your thoughts to amuse your lethargy.

Ding Ding

Instinctively, your head turned. 50s music began to fade, superseded by the loud thumping of your heart. Your breathing became shaky, parallel to your hands. Dirty blonde hair is what you see first. It’s him! You repeat in your head, like a religious prayer.

“Jessica, hey!” you heard a joyous exclamation. You watch as the man from the bar rushes over to the person entering the restaurant. Your anxiety left as quickly as it came. A hand places itself onto your cheat, and on the spot your heart thumped rapidly. You had to calm down. You took deep breaths, and your heart slowed with each sip of air. You rest your head on the table.

After taking the time to calm yourself, you analyzed the restaurant furthermore. Now, the place was vacant, since the man had left. Fifteen minutes passed and you found a newspaper from the newspaper rack adjacent to the front entrance.

Nothing in the article was new to you. At your captor’s home, you watched the news almost once a week to see if anyone had reported your disappearance. Nothing ever came up though. At least you were up to date with everything going on.

Your waitress finally returned, carrying your meal on a maroon-colored tray in her left hand. “Sorry for the wait, ma’am. Kitchen malfunction.” she apologized, giving you a guileless smile. This would be the only expression besides tedium that you’d receive from her.

“It's alright,” you said, watching as she placed the food on the table for you to dig into. She left carrying the tray back to the kitchen she emerged from.

You took a bite of the sandwich, chewing slowly to savor the flavor. Juicy and delicious are solely vivid words to illustrate the taste. The egg had a spongy texture that combines well with melted cheese. And the hickory bacon wasn’t too crispy or chewy, it was simply perfect.

Back at the prison, your captor wasn't the best cook. But he tried to be for you. Still, you preferred takeout. Chinese, Italian, and burgers began to become a boring taste on your taste buds. Having a breakfast sandwich was refreshing, to say the least.

“Enjoying your meal, huh?” rough voice inquiries. The question was said cockily but their wrath was audible in the way the last word was spoken.

You stop mid-chew, the overwhelming flavor vanishing from your mind. It now tasted bland. You kept your eyes shut. Were you afraid? No. Afraid couldn't explain the ineffable amount of dread you felt at the moment. Ruffling could be heard on the opposite side of the table; He was sitting down. Your eyes open involuntarily like your body already knew what he wanted it to do.

Across the table, seating snugly is your captor; Leon Kennedy. He looks rougher than the last time you’ve spoken. The dark circle underneath his eye has grown darker. His brunette roots have begun peaking out ruining his natural blonde facade. And he looked exhausted. Must have stayed up all night looking for you.

He looked more than pissed. He appeared disgruntled. Compared to Leon, you were small. But now, Leon was like a giant towering over you. Despite never abusing you in any shape or form, your body shakes like a leaf in the wind. The way he glares down at you drives you to shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“Do you know how long I've been up for, y/n?” he asks whilst pulling out a flask from his jacket pocket.

Regardless of how parched you are, you force yourself to converse with him. “No,” you're voice is brisk and faint.

“Two days. For two days I’ve been on my feet.” He takes a swig of the flask and then continues to rant. “I could have joined you in bed and fallen asleep, but there was a problem. You weren't anywhere.”

He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What the hell is the matter with you? You could have gotten hurt. You probably are.”

Leon is getting angrier, you can tell by the way the furrowed eyebrows deepen and his frown morphs into a glower, as he utters each sentence.

“I’m sorry.” That's all you can say. It's all that comes to mind.

“Sorry won’t make up for the scars you've gotten.” he retorts angrily.

Now you're mirroring his expression. You’re angry and tired as well. Definitely not as tired as him but still tired. “You’re acting as if I didn't have a good reason to run.” you petulantly cross your arms, akin to a child not getting a toy from the store.

Leon wasn’t delusional. Back in the day, when he was a rookie cop, in some aspects he was delusional. However, as the years continue to pass so does his past self. Leon understands what he has done to you is inhumane, but he can’t help it. He kept you locked away for a reason. You won’t get hurt with him by your side.

Leon sighs, closing his eyes and leaning closer with his forearms on the table. “I know, I know.”

You tilt your head, “really? So, why are you mad at me?”

His eyes open, displaying icy-blue orbs. They hold Empathy in them. Empathy Leon has a difficult time communicating to you.

“I keep you in the house for your safety.” He began, taking your hands into his own. “To keep our relationship safe.”

“But I don’t want a relationship with you.”

“I know.”

“So why are you forcing me to stay with you?!”

Leon’s hands squeezed yours, provoking a cry out of you. “All my life I’ve been a generous man. I saved many and gave up my life for others. I’m always providing for someone else and rarely caring for myself. And the one thing I yearn for to the point I was convinced I deserved it. It was you.”

For a beat, he ceases his gabbing. Leon stares down at your connected hands, his thumb starts rubbing against the back of your hand. It’s a domestic act that earns your displeasure.

“For once, allow me to be selfish,” he mumbles, eyes slowly trailing up to meet yours. His lips press your hand, giving it a chaste kiss. “You’re the only thing I’ll fight to keep for myself.”

Part of you wishes the relationship was normal. Leon truly did care for you, and you still cared for him, But he did something unforgiving. He took away your free will.

“...you can’t just steal a person, Leon. You can’t expect me to love you.”

“I don’t.”

“So why won’t you let me go? You still have Ada, don’t you? You were more into her than me. Why isn’t she in my position?”

“Because I love you, not her. You haven't betrayed me. Well, not until now.” he jokes, letting out a faint chuckle.

Leon pulls out his wallet, his fingers sliding through the pockets to find his card. “Wrap your food up. We’re leaving.” he puts his wallet back in his back pocket, “Be right back. Stay here.” he commanded sternly.

The waitress is at the bar, cleaning the counter with a blue rag. Leon approaches her with an “Excuse me.”

Leon put too much faith in you because you were on your feet immediately when his back was turned. You quietly inched towards the door and ever so slowly dragged the door inwards. Leon was distracted, the waitress deciding she’d flirt with him despite seeing you and him together. You manage to slip through the door before Leon notices your second escape attempt.

You bolt out the door when you hear the enraged roar of your name from behind. You grip the railing to the stairs, running down them, tripping a couple of times. You don’t look but you know Leon’s on your tail. The door slams against the wall, the bell ringing loudly.

“Y/n, get back here!”

Amanda’s car was still parked by the gas pump. You sprint towards it, slipping through the tight space of the car and the gas pump. Luckily for you, Amanda was in the car, applying her strawberry-pink lipstick.

“Amanda!” you shout, startling her enough that she drags the lipstick across her cheek. She shouts, frightened by your sudden appearance. She looks at you, like you're crazy. She says your name to clarify the person at her window, “What are you doing.”

You shake your head, “yo-you gotta help me, he-” you say breathlessly.

“Hey, Amanda.” you hear Leon’s voice call out. Unlike you, he isn’t out of breath. Thanks to his military training. Amanda peeks her head out the window, she smiles waving at Leon. “Hey, Lee!”

Your eyes widen till it’s physically impossible to widen anymore. She knows Leon. Your body feels numb as you watch them interact like old friends. You feel like you aren’t real at the moment. Like you're watching the scene unfold outside your body.

“Sorry, she just came back from the hospital. She isn’t in her right mind right now.” Leon excuses, leading you to his car like a shepherd's dog guiding the sheep to its pen.

Amanda nods as she understands completely. “No worries, I’m just glad I found her before she hurt herself.”

Leon puts you in the passenger seat and closes the vehicle door. The keys lock the door from the inside, so you are left choiceless.

Leon joins you in the driver’s seat, definitely too angered to chide you. He seethed quietly, powering on the engine with the quick twist of the car keys.

Wordlessly, you buckle up. You wouldn’t make an endeavor to anger Leon any further.

You’d allow him to be selfish. Allow him to have you.

What other option did you have now?

#Leon Kennedy #Leon Kennedy x reader #yandere resident evil #resident evil #resident evil 4 #leon s kennedy #yandere leon kennedy #yandere themes #yandere writing #dilfartist

[d10nyx]

resident evil bot drop // character.ai

ft. leon kennedy and carlos oliveira (requests in italics)

cw: kidnapping, ddlg, obsessive behaviour, potential non-con(kidnapper leon, obsessed bsf's dad leon)

bot one: fae prince leon capturing a human princess

If there was one thing your father had always made abundantly clear to you, it was to make sure you stay away from the forest. Just because it was a neutral zone by name did not mean the fae could not lure you towards their territory. They were a cunning and powerful people - you'd stand no chance.

You'd wished you'd listened to him now. Your trip to the forest was meant to be some innocent fun. You'd always enjoyed exploration. The last thing you remember before blacking out was an overwhelming sense of tiredness that tended to appear out of nowhere before you were lifted into strong arms.

When you came to, you felt yourself surrounded by warmth. You opened your eyes, taking in the sight of an unfamiliar bedroom. Next to you was a man - no, his ears were pointed. A fae. Suddenly, fear takes ahold of your senses, leaving you frozen as you stare at him. Without even turning to look at you, he speaks up. "Haven't you been told staring is rather rude, princess?"

bot two: best friend's dad!leon likes you a little too much

Leon isn't sure when exactly his obsession developed. His daughter, Sherry, bought you home one day when she was off college - saying you were her dorm mate and new best friend. You were cute, sure, but he hadn't thought much of his initial attraction.

That was until you kept coming over. You were so sweet, this innocent aura surrounding you that was so rare to find in his life with his line of work. He tried to suppress the feeling, to bury it deep inside of him and ignore it like he did with everything else...

He couldn't help himself. His obsession felt like an itch, one he couldn't scratch without getting close to you. He started small, taking an item of clothing or two when you were staying over, something small you would think you'd misplaced. It escalated quickly to him watching you around his house, peeking through doors when you were changing.

It's getting to the point he recognises the way your perfume smells subconsciously, noticing the second you step into the kitchen with him without looking as his nose picks up your scent. He takes in a deep breath to calm himself before turning around, offering you a weak smile. "You couldn't sleep, sweetheart?"

bot three: ddlg with kidnapper!leon

“You have a good day, sweetheart? You do any coloring in those cute little books I got you?” Leon asks as he approaches you after work. His hands come up to your cheeks, gently stroking his thumbs back and forth across your cheekbones. You shake your head, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from saying something.

“No? Why not, baby? You don't like them? I got the one with lots of kitties. Pretty girls like you like cute things, don't they?” He coos, squishing your cheeks in his hands to make your lips all pouty so he can lean down and give them a little kiss, letting out a loud ‘mwah’ as soon as his lips make contact.

“You eat at least? I left some food in a lunchbox for you.” You shake your head again, and this time it seems to elicit a worse reaction. His brows furrow, and his hand grips your face even tighter. “No? Silly baby… can't do anything without daddy, can you? Come on. Daddy'll feed you, cutie.”

bot four: farmer!leon x chubby bunny!user

When Leon bought you, you were fully intended to be for his farm. You seemed sociable enough, so he had no worries about you getting on with the other bunny hybrids when he brought you back.

He hadn't expected that he'd be the issue. He found himself visiting you every day, drawn to your personality and pretty face. You were just so cute - all soft and round, your floppy ears always framing your face. It was always hard for him not to reach out and stroke them.

He really couldn't help himself. He hadn't had time to look for a partner with how much time he spends on the farm, and you seemed like you'd be the perfect little thing to cure his loneliness. So, one day when he's done with the work needed on the farm, he leads you into his home.

"C'mon, darlin'." He coos, his hand looped with yours as he leads you to the living room, a small smile on his face. He sits you down on the couch, rubbing behind one of your ears to soothe your nerves. "You're gonna be stayin' here with me, alright?"

bot five: leon's new therapy dog hybrid

Every mission weighs on Leon more than the last. He hasn't been the same since Raccon City, and every year seems to put more strain on him than the last.

He's getting older now. His line of work has never given him the opportunity to settle down and start a family - not that any girl would want a guy who drunk himself half to death so he could pass out every night and avoid the nightmares.

The last thing he expected his government given therapist to prescribe him with his government given paycheck was you. A cute, puppy hybrid to help him adapt to his retirement. An emotional support dog in a way. You seemed sweet, but he wasn't exactly sure how you were supposed to help him. At the very least, it was nice not to be alone all the time.

He sets up a little corner for you in the living room for now. He didn't have the energy to clear out the spare room, and he doubted you'd mind. He got you lots of toys, a comfy bed. Hopefully, everything you needed to be happy.

"Alright. C'mere, pup. This alright for ya?" He asks, gesturing you over towards him.

bot six: vendetta!leon with bimbo!user

Leon got used to knowing the bottom of the bottle more than what it was like to have friends or someone to come home to. His attempts at flirting tended to leave him either embarrassed or with a smack across the face, so he'd given up trying. Some people were cut out to be alone, and he was looking to be one of them.

When you approached him at the bar, you were seriously hot. There wasn't much going on upstairs, but he didn't exactly expect to keep you around for long enough to have a conversation, anyway. Just someone to keep his bed warm for the night, and he'd never see you again.

Fate has a funny way of doing things, because he became completely enamoured with you. He was the definition of whipped, his eyes practically heart shaped when he looks at you. He loved watching you get ready(although the man really never thought it was possible to own that many pink clothes) and he was quick to dish out money whenever you needed your acrylics or eyelash extensions done.

You were a pain sometimes, but he was happy you were his girlfriend. He wouldn't want anyone else to come home to after a tough mission or long day at work - even if you left your makeup scattered on his bathroom counter and took up most of the space in his wardrobe.

"Angel," he says with a sigh, moving to sit next to you on the sofa. His arm drapes itself loosely around your shoulders, his eyes scanning your face. He lets out a huff of air, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. "Baby... I'm so tired."

bot seven: mafia husband!leon wants a baby

Leon has never enjoyed lying to you, no matter how necessary it was. His heart aches, knowing he has to lie about where he is every day, to keep his life entirely secret from you. But he needs you to be safe, he doesn't want you to spend your days worrying about whether he'll make it home alive or not - he couldn't imagine putting you through that kind of stress.

He makes sure he knows you're safe at all times. Only the most trusted of his men are permitted to take care of you. He has them watching your every move, making sure they're as close to you as they can be without alerting you of their presence. He has enemies, and he would not like to think what would happen if they tried to get to him by harming you.

As always, before he returns home after a long day, he scrubs the blood from his skin. Changes his shirt to make sure there isn't a stain he hasn't seen yet. He can't bring you into his life, no matter what. You were too sweet, too pure for the world. He couldn't imagine how you'd look at him if you knew...

He sighs in relief once he sees the door to the home, his body relaxing as he pushes it open and notices nothing is out of place. You're safe. Something in Leon always changes when he sees your face. The hard lines of his face fade, his gaze softening as he walks through the door and sees you curled up on the couch in one of his shirts. You look so beautiful that he feels his heart swell. He can't help but imagine how beautiful you'd look as a mother, a thought that'd been playing constantly in mind recently.

He dips his head down as he reaches the back of the couch, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck as his large hands come to rest on your shoulders. "Ciao, mia cara. You look beautiful today."

bot eight: hybrid owner carlos

You'd only been living with Carlos for a few weeks and he was already entirely smitten with you. He'd already bought you more than a few collars in your favourite colour. You had your own room filled with more toys than you'd ever seen before in your life coupled with your own bed, but he still let you curl up with him every night.

It didn't matter what you wanted - it was yours. You didn't even need to ask. If your eyes so much as lingered on something for more than five seconds, he'd already bought you ten of them.

He's always so excited to come home to you. Honestly, he's probably more excited to see you than you are to see him. As he walks through the door to his apartment and spots you, a huge grin overtakes his face. He kneels down, opening his arms wide for a hug. "C'mere, pretty girl. Gimme some love."

#nyx bots #carlos oliveira x you #carlos oliveira x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #character.ai #c.ai bot #character ai bot

[pinkslaystation]

König und Prinz: Meine Entführer

toxic! König x Reader - [King and Prince: My kidnappers] Your attempts to run away with your son fails, and your husband confronts you. Seems like he's really influencing your little one. Word Count: 2.8k This is intended to be a oneshot :P SHOUT OUT GOOGLE TRANSLATE, RLY CARRIED THIS FIC

The picture of your husband and father of your child of 10 years, with his arm slung around another woman, really was the pinnacle of your disappointment for the man.

The house, once decorated with handcrafted creations by you and your son, Leon, whom König had frequently nicknamed 'mein kleiner König' [my little king] and 'mein kleiner Prinz' [my little prince] was now all packed away, stored in numerous duffel bags and small cabin suitcases.

"Mama, wohin gehen wir?" [where are we going?]

"Your grandparents." You huff.

It's not like König was cheating on you. He really wasn't. He loved you too much for that. But the constant nagging and the berating on your side truly stressed you to a point where you heavily questioned your relationship.

"Take all your belonging Leon, dunno if we're coming back in a while..."

"Und Papa? [and papa?] Do we need to pack his clothes too?" He aks innocently, peering up at you from down below.

He was a smart boy, your son, though he was barely 7 years old, and already at an outstanding height of nearly 140 cm, there was no doubt that he was König's son.

"No." You halt your movements, thinking of an excuse, "His clothes are already there."

Leon nods. He may be 7, but he's not stupid, and he's upset that you think so little of him. It's apparent that he's closer to his father than to you, and although you're grateful to have such a loving family, you can't help but feel a spike of jealousy whenever your Leon visibly preferred your husband over you.

Like his school's sports day, when you and König had cheered him on as he raced to the finishing line quicker than his classmates. It was an easy win, I mean look at him.

As he crosses the finishing line, he rushes to the both of you, and although you're standing in front of König, with your arms wide open to hold your son, he only just makes a beeline, straight to his father, jumping to press his face into König's chest.

It's little things like this that makes you wonder if your son even recognises you as a parent equal to his beloved father.

The drive to your parent's house was long and awkward, with Leon making small remarks like when his father was going to be there, and what his father was doing at that very moment, and why his father wasn't with you guys that very moment.

"Busy with his bitch I presume..." You mumble under your breath, and you know that if König had heard you, he would've pulled you aside and scolded you for using such foul language around his precious son.

The bond was mutual it seems.

"Mama, papa is calling you." Leon mentions, grabbing at your phone.

"Disconnect." You bark.

"But mama, what if it's wichtig." [important]

"Leon. I said, disconnect it."

He hesitates but eventually listens, hanging up König's call. It's the 5th one of the car ride.

The phone vibrates once more.

Leon looks outside the window, debating whether to tell you about the spam of texts you're receiving, but he ultimately chooses to stay silent. I mean, you don't need to know.

Kö: meine liebe, wo bist du??? [my love, where are you???]

Kö: schätze [treasure]

Kö: where are your clothes??

Kö: where's everything???

Kö: where's my son.

Kö: Hör auf, mich zu verarschen [stop fucking with me]

On the other hand, König is shaking with fear. He never met to be near that woman. I mean she didn't mean anything to him, he barely knew her name!

She was just his senior, and he had to do what he did for that promotion in the ranks...schätze, you would understand, ja?

The moment he enters your home, the eerie silence spooks him, considering he's used to being tackled almost instantly by his wife and little one. Instead, he's faced with the empty walls and cupboards. You were even petty enough to take the TV remote with you, so he was restricted from watching from the newly bought TV.

He calls out your name numerous times, then your son's, running up and down the 3 story house. You two were nowhere in sight, and the lack of clothes from the wardrobes confirmed that his two favourite people had left him

He checks his phone to see a message from you.

Schnucki: hallo papa, wo bist du? Schnucki: it's leon papa :-D

It's his son!

Kö: mein kleiner prinz, wo ist deine mutter? [my little prince, where is your mother?]

"What's happening Leon?" You ask your son, your eyes only darting quickly to your son by the passenger seat, who's squinting and tapping away at your phone now.

"...Just watching Cocomelon, mama."

"Boy, your father told you, you're too old for that show..." You mumble once again, and your son mentally notes that he's going to inform his father about all this mumbling that seems to get on both on their nerves now.

Schnucki: we're going on a trip, where are you papa?

König scoffs, "A trip?", he's going to have to discipline this attitude out of you when he finally gets his hands on you. You should know, König plans all these 'trips', your little self isn't as efficient as he is.

Kö: i'm on my way. remind me where we are going again? Schnucki: an Ihre Schwiegereltern [to your in-laws]

König's rushing to his Jeep when he hears this. This reminds him of the previous time you had run off to your parents with his son. 2 years ago, when Leon had just turned 5, König had suggested that you quit your full-time job so you be a stay at home wife for him and his son. You could home school Leon, but also look after the home with all this new time on your hands.

Of course, you laughed in his face. A Bachelor's degree, a Master's and constant slaving away within a male-dominated industry, just to become a housewife? After a fight ensues, you run for your parents with your infant glued to your hip.

And it's happening all over again.

König starts the car, the journey to his in-laws was about 2 hours by car, a little over 1 if you're speeding. He makes sure to shoot a text to his son whilst driving.

Kö: coming. what can you see around you prinz?

Leon looks out of the window, recognising the area to be one where him and his parents would often frequent to. He sees the Wendy's where he spent his 6th birthday at, with his father munching away at his and Leon's burger in front of him. He cried hard that day.

Schnucki: i see wendys :-D and there's a park, and a field, and a roundabout and a traffic jam Kö: coming

König knows where you are, just half an hour away from your home, you're not too far, and he knows if he speeds quick enough, he can catch up to you soon enough.

But he knows that's not good enough. He needs to teach you a lesson this time for running away for what felt like the 10th time, though it was just the 2nd.

"Mama, why are you mad at papa?"

Leon breaks the silence after 25 minutes. He can't sit here any longer knowing you're this upset at his father.

You stay silent. To be frank, you don't know what the exact reason was.

It was König's behaviour first, the way you'd tell him to clean up after himself and him not listening to you. Sometimes it was him forgetting date night just to watch Austrian movies with his son at home, even if you have them once in 3 months.

The breaking point was for sure when he mentioned a possible promotion at his job at Kortac, him running home and pressing wet kisses all over your's and Leon's face.

He warned you that one of the higher-ups was quite touchy with him, though he'd reminded her he was married with a son multiple times, though pulling his ring finger multiples times. He truly was so proud of you for fulfilling his wish for a family.

Somewhere down the line, it got mistranslated, and at the ranking ceremony, he gets promoted by his superior, with her (unprofessionally, might I add) pressing a kiss against his cheek when he had bent down to receive a new badge.

Though he was shocked, he had to suppress his disgust behind his eyes through his mask, and fake a smile for the camera, which unfortunately captured his arm sitting uncomfortably around her waist.

"Your father's getting bored of me." You say nonchalantly, to your son.

Leon scrunches his face. He's used to coming downstairs in the morning to seeing his parents smooching away, or walking in front of his parents, only to look behind to see their fingers intertwined, with a warm red colour flushed against both their cheeks.

There's no way his father was getting bored, in fact the other way round was more plausible.

"Nein." He defends his father. [no.]

"Nein?" You peer at him, still weary of the cars surrounding you.

"Papa ist verliebt in dich, why can't you see that?" [papa is in love with you]

Leon senses slight hesitation in your answer, and he glimpses at your downturn eyebrows.

"If he's so in love with me, why does he not listen to me..." You state plainly.

The phone vibrates in his hand, silent enough for you not to hear, and his attention turns to the unread messages from his father.

Kö: Prinz, do see a petrol bunk?

Leon looks out the window.

Schnucki: Ja

König thinks to himself, trying to pinpoint your exact location, now that his car is closer to yours.

Kö: tu mir einen gefallen [do me a favour] is the fuel light on?

Leon looks at the beeping petrol light.

Schnucki: Ja Kö: Gut. [good] Tell your mother to fill the tank, I'll meet you at the gas station. Don't tell your mother. Schnucki: was ist, wenn du nicht rechtzeitig kommst? [what if you don't come in time?] Kö: then stall her.

"You need to fill in the tank, mama."

You look at the fuel light beeping, humming in agreement. You wonder how your son even knows what the tank light is, let alone how he realised it was on in the first place.

After driving into the petrol station, and parking by a pump, you fill your car up. As you're about to make a quick trip to the shops to pay for the petrol, your son pops his head out of the open window.

"Can I come? I want a Schokoladentafel [chocolate bar]."

It's about 10:30 P.M. when you make your way to the empty till, ringing the bell on the counter to alert a worker. The gas station was dimly lit, with no one inside, no even by the pumps. You question whether the gas station was even open.

"Where are these people..." You grumble to no one in particular. You begin to look at the close to empty trays of chocolate bars and small packets of crisps

"Keine Ahnung [no clue]." Leon replies, holding your hand in one, his other hand still gripping at the open messages on your phone.

Schnucki: We're here papa, und du? [and you?] Kö: Ich sehe dich [I see you].

Leon giggles to himself, he's finally going to see his father!

"Where's the damn cashier..." You groan, spamming the counter bell now.

"Looking for me?" You hear a voice behind you.

Leon let's go of your hand.

"Jesus, dude finally. Can me and my son pay already, we're alread-mHmMmHPh-"

Before you realise what's happening, a wet cloth is pressed against your mouth and nose, a large hand supporting the back of your head as you falter on your feet.

"Leon..." You eyes close completely and you faint against a chest musky chest. König smiles, finally having his beloved in his arms, gripping your backside and hoisting you up to his left shoulder, where you rest, motionless.

Leon on the other hand, as if witnessing his mother being drugged in front of him was the most normal thing in the world for a 7 year old to see, was jumping against his father side.

"Papa! Pick me up too!"

König chuckles, lifting his son and carrying him on his right flexed bicep, before snatching a few sweets and walking out of the deserted gas station. He hands one to his son, rubbing his mask against his little one.

"alles für meinen Sohn." [anything for my son]

By the time you wake up, the room was dark and it's difficult for you to differentiate whether it was the same day or the next morning. You turn to find your son, only to find that you can't move a muscle.

Ropes are tied around your waist, arms and legs, so any sort of movement was completely restricted, and you're kneeling on the cold smooth floor, bruising your skin. The ropes aren't tied expertly, so you know it's not the work of your husband, whom you're aware was a professional at the art of knots, given his career.

"Meine Blume..." [my flower]

You squint at the sudden voice. Your ears are mildly ringing so the voice is slightly distorted.

"Papa! She's awake..." A second voice, resembling your son's.

A light is shone in your face, and you put your head down, avoiding the light.

"Leon? K...König?" You're not in the same clothes, having been changed into a black sweatshirt and joggers.

"Schnucki...." [sweetie pie] It's König, you recognise the nickname through your phone contacts, "Why do you keep trying to separate this family?"

You're shocked by his words, separate?

"Why must you take my son away from me?" He demands now, his voice getting louder.

You look up to the figure, slowly adjusting to the light, it's König, with Leon still sitting on his biceps.

"Are the ropes too tight, mama?" Your son interupts.

You look down at the tight ropes, ripping at your skin under your clothes.

"Yes...König, what is this? Let me go...Let go of my son..." You can barely speak, the effects of the drugs stlll present in your system

Leon smiles at you, his dimples poking through, "Gut, I tied them on you!"

You blink at your son. They're working together?

"König- König, what are you making my son do-" you cough, and Leon leaps down from König's arms and hugs your head.

"Mama, aren't you proud of me? We can finally be a family together! You don't have to be mad at Papa, I forgave him alre-"

"That's not how it works!" You scream, interrupting Leon.

"Don't you dare shout at him."

You jolt, as König seethes at you, leaning towards you. "If you're going to be mad at someone, be mad at me. Don't drag Prinz into this."

You laugh nervously, "Me? I'm dragging him into this? Are you listening to yourself Kö? You made Leon tie me up- THAT'S NOT NORMA-"

Leon stops you, "Prinz."

"Leon...Prinz..." You try reasoning with him, he seems like the only sane person in the room, which is worrying given that he's only 7.

"Prinz. König und Prinz." König firms, crossing his arms and standing, dominating you physically.

"König, why -cough- are you doing this?"

He laughs, "Schatz, why must you run from me?"

"You and that lady-"

"Nothing happened between them." Prinz interrupts. You cough, looking at Leon Prinz.

"You told my son?"

"He's my son, not a stranger."

"And me? You think it's normal to kidnap your wi-"

"Like you tried to kidnap my son?"

A pause lingers in the air.

"That's not kidnapping.." You reply defensively, "We were visiting my parents..."

"Don't lie, mama..." Prinz shakes his head, disappointingly. "Papa plans all the trips, you know this."

This kid... You think to yourself.

"I'm sorry...okay. It won't happen again..."

Your husband and his sidekick stare down at you, waiting for you to stop beating around the bush.

"You can...can let me go now..."

"No." You can't tell who said that, your son or your husband.

"You'll sit here and think about what you did-"

"-trying to separate this family-"

"-how dare you-"

"-who do you think you are-"

The light turns off now, and your eyes fail to adjust to the rapid light changes, clenching them tightly to rid yourself of the blaring pain in your head. You can't tell who's speaking and the sudden thought of failing as a mother flashes through your head.

"Kön...my head...my son-"

You hit the floor, head first, laying in front of König and Prinz.

There's a silence between the father-son duo.

"Next time, I'll tie the knots better, papa."

König ruffles his head, "Gut gemacht." [good job.]

König, I volunteer 🙋🏽‍♀️🙋🏽‍♀️🙋🏽‍♀️🙋🏽‍♀️🙋🏽‍♀️ lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum, @kxtz3, @poohkie90, @rainlovesyou12, @restrictionsapply-blog, @lunamoonbby, @nigthmar3moon, @thychuvaluswife, @itsnourm, @bubusi11, @chessecakelover, @owkittie, @cheomain, @corvusmorte, @k4es, @mandythemint, @copiasratscheese, @yyiikes, @funkyysho3es

#call of duty #cod #call of duty modern warfare #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig cod #cod konig #konig x reader #konig angst #könig x reader #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #cod mw2

[nyrandrea]

Yo! Not sure if you are accepting requests for Astarion x Reader and what not but if you are, here me out; it's known that it is possible for Astarion to be kidnapped by Cazador when you are fighting at the Inn. So what about if this happened and, to try and further break him and just be a total twat, Cazador sets it up that it seems the reader/Tav has come to save Astarion only to reveal that it was all a charade to break him and drag him to the ritual (could be a shape changer of succubus, whatever you like). Astarion is utter broken, THEN the real Tav comes charging in, tearing apart everything in their way to save Astarion. We have utter angst followed by utter fluff!

Ooh I very much liked this prompt as I've never written from Astarion's POV before so I hope it comes across alright!

TW for kidnapping and slight emotional manipulation

Word Count - 2.5k

Enjoy!

xxx

Astarion shifted his shoulders side-to-side while splaying his fingers, both done in attempt to free himself of the rope binding his wrists. 

As he was ushered, his heavy breaths were muffled against the cloth that had been tied around his neck. As it obscured most of his vision, he couldn’t see a damn thing, but he knew exactly where his kidnappers—his so-called ‘brother’ and ‘sister’—were taking him. 

Back to his old master. 

Astarion had tried to fight the spawn – Gods know he did – despite knowing it was futile. His friends had tried to save him, you had tried so, so hard – he remembers the way you desperately crawled to him, weakly calling out his name before he was dragged away. 

When fighting was clearly no use, he tried to convince them just to discuss their options, that surely they could figure out a way to work together to defeat Cazador, but it was all for naught. They thought he deserved this, and, in a way, so did he. 

The longer they travelled, the more his struggles eased. 

Even with the bag over his head, Astarion could tell when they reached the Szarr palace. The air within was thick with the musty scent of centuries past, a haunting aroma that seemed to seep from the very walls themselves. 

Dimly flickering torches lined the uneven, moss-covered bricks, casting feeble, wavering shadows that danced with eerie grace. The stones, slick with moisture, whispered secrets to those who dared listen, their ancient whispers a chilling backdrop to the silence. The floor, uneven and cold, was a mosaic of cracked tiles, their patterns lost to centuries of neglect. Puddles of stagnant water collected in the lowest recesses, reflecting the dim torchlight like dark, unblinking eyes. 

“I’m... sorry that it had to come to this,” Leon said. His voice was monotone, making his words sound like a cheap, hollow excuse. 

“No, you’re not,” Astarion bluntly replied. “Whatever master wants, master gets. Just a shame we all must get slaughtered in the process, hm?” 

Silence was his answer.  

Astarion flinched as a door creaked open and a familiar stink filled his nostrils – Leon had brought him to the ‘Kennel’, where he had spent tendays being tortured by Cazador’s cruel and sadistic servant Godey – a vile creature that often haunted his nightmares. 

The cloth covering Astarion’s head was ripped off and he was forced to gaze at that familiar, hideous skull. 

“If it isn’t the nasty little runaway!” Godey all-too-cheerily announced. “Ah, but you always find your way back to Godey, hmm?” 

Astarion grimaced. 

“If I had my way, I’d saw off your legs - that’d put a stop to your wandering.” 

“As pleasant as that sounds, I’m guessing the master said no?” Astarion said with a little smirk; a mask to hide his fear. “After all, I’m sure he needs all of my blood on the inside for the Mass.” 

“But he needs you obedient too,” Godey growled. “And I should cut out that tongue of yours for a start.” 

The skeleton brushed his fingertips on the hilt of his dagger, as if he was considering it for a moment. 

“That means no barking, no biting, no struggling – a well-behaved little doggie.” 

“I’ll never do what he tells me again,” Astarion sneered. “I’d rather die.” 

“Oh, you’ll do both! You will do whatever he requires, and if you’re delusional enough to think any of your little friends will come and save you, well...” 

As if on cue, the doors swung open behind Godey to reveal... you.  

Astarion's eyes met yours, and a torrent of emotions surged through him. His lifeless heart almost fluttered as you bypassed Godey and approached him, a mix of apprehension and joy welling up inside. 

Your eyes brimmed with tears as you rushed towards him. 

“Astarion, my love...!” you whispered. “I’ve come to save you; I couldn’t bear to be apart from you any longer.” 

Astarion extended his arms to embrace you. Your touch felt warm and comforting, and it held him in an embrace that seemed so familiar. 

For a moment, he was overcome with joy, believing he had another chance at freedom, that both of you could take down Godey and escape from this wretched place. But as seconds passed, something felt amiss. Your eyes were colder, your words more hollow, and a chilling unease settled in his bones. 

“I missed you so much,” you continued, your voice wavering with a hint of deception. 

But Astarion noticed the subtle differences in your gestures and expressions, even the way you spoke was... off. He pushed you away and stared into your eyes, searching for the truth. 

“Who are you?” He demanded, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and heartbreak.  

‘Your’ facade began to crumble. In a flash of darkness, there was a revelation of a true, grotesque form. Its face twisted and contorted into a nightmarish amalgamation of shapes and shadows. 

 It was a shapeshifter, a creature of dark magic, cunningly disguised as you. 

Astarion recoiled, his heart shattering into a million pieces. He realised the cruel trick that had been played on him, his eyes glistening with tears.  

“A gift from the master,” Godey said all too smugly. “To remind you that you are not worth saving.” 

The shapeshifter, grinning wickedly, vanished into the night, leaving Astarion alone in the darkness, his heart aching with betrayal and sorrow.  

“Now,” Godey said, approaching him with a chain. “Be a good little mutt and tie this around your neck, it is time to accept the fate that has been chosen for you.” 

The chains felt so heavy in Astarion’s hands that he merely let them slip and pile onto the floor with a heavy clang. He just felt so tired. Of running away, of daring to have hope, of falling in love, only to have it ripped away. Existence was... nothing but a cruel joke. 

And Cazador was the one laughing at him. 

Godey snarled as he bent to pick the chains up and thrust them back into Astarion’s arms. “Do not disobey! Or do I have to get the knee-splitter out for old time’s sake?” 

The vampire wordlessly submitted and allowed himself to be led out of the Kennel and into the corridors of the dungeon. 

A heavy, suffocating atmosphere hung in the air, as if the crypt itself held its breath, waiting for something unseen to stir in the shadows. It was a place where the echoes of the past whispered of forgotten sorrows and ancient curses, a realm where the line between the living and the dead blurred into obscurity. 

"Astarion...!" a distant voice cried, slicing through the dungeon's oppressive silence. Determined footsteps reverberated against the cold, stone floor, the sound of clanking armour ringing in the eerie stillness. 

Godey paused, appearing confused. “What...? Can’t be the shapeshifter again...” 

The footsteps edged ever closer, and Godey turned to face these unexpected intruders, forcing Astarion to turn with him.  

Gale, Karlach, Shadowheart and... you were rushing down the hallway. As you approached them, the ancient stone walls seemed to tremble in anticipation. 

The groups’ menacing sneers faded into incredulous expressions at the scene before them, and an overwhelming shame punched Astarion in the gut at having them see him so... vulnerable. Humiliated. 

They reached for their weapons, but your eyes met Astarion’s with a fiery, unyielding gaze. Your face was bloodied, and lips curled as you snarled like a feral animal – a far cry from the innocent but fake show that the shapeshifter had put on only moments before. 

“Let him go!” you demand, your grip tightening on your sword, its blade gleaming with an ethereal light. 

Godey flinched back, obviously surprised. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, the master needs him,” the skeleton said. “Leave this place and he may grant you enough mercy to let you live.” 

“Afraid we can’t do that, bones,” Karlach snarled before turning to you. “Can we please just kill this thing and get our friend out of here?” 

“Friend?” Godey scoffed. “This dog doesn’t have friends. Now leave!” 

You meet Karlach’s furious gaze, and nod. 

"Get back, Astarion!" she hissed, and in a dazzling display of athletics and brute strength, brought down her mace upon Godey, his skull splitting with a sickening crack. 

Gale summoned bolts of lightning to dance around him. The damp air crackled with electricity, illuminating the dungeon in an otherworldly glow. All it took was one bolt to strike Godey down until he was nothing more than a pile of dust. 

Your eyes remained locked on Astarion as Shadowheart raised her hand, and the shackles that bound him burst apart with a resounding snap. He stumbled slightly; disbelief etched across his face. 

“Oh, thank Gods we found you in time,” you sigh in relief as you approach him. “Are you hurt?” 

He said nothing. Just... stared at you. 

“Can you walk?” you tried, holding out a hand to touch his shoulder. “We need to get you out of here.” 

“Don’t touch me!” he winced back, and you instantly retracted your hand. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, backing up to give him space. “What’s wrong? What can I do to help you?” 

Astarion’s scepticism waned a little; this version of you was a lot more... convincing than the last one. The way your eyes crinkled in distress, those little twitches your fingers did when you were nervous, even your scent was... almost enough to convince him you were the real deal. 

Yet, doubt clawed at the edges of his mind like a persistent, haunting whisper. 

"You can't be real," Astarion whispered, his voice laced with a soft tremor. 

Your eyes welled with frustration and hurt, but your voice remained gentle as you replied, "Astarion, I am as real as the air we’re breathing and the ground we stand on. I'm right here." 

Astarion shook his head, his disbelief lingering like a stubborn fog.  

"No, this isn't possible," he insisted, his voice rising. "This is another trick, isn’t it?” 

“Trick?” Karlach tilted her head. 

“Cazador sent you,” Astarion said, his shoulders shaking as he chuckled in disbelief, almost hysterically. “Not one shapeshifter, but five? I mean where... where did he even manage to find you all?” 

“Not how I would thank my rescuers, but each to their own, I suppose” Shadowheart said incredulously. “We need to leave, unless you fancy waiting for the cavalry to arrive.” 

Karlach bumped the cleric’s shoulder. “Just give him a moment, yeah? He’s obviously a bit... confused.” 

“Oh, it’s all as clear as day to me, darling,” the vampire spat, making her flinch. “Put on the act as much as you want, but I will not be going anywhere with you.” 

He glanced down at the dust pile beneath his feet and gave it a good kick. “Though I suppose I should thank you for getting rid of him, nasty little thing.” 

“That was... Godey, right?” you tentatively asked, and his red eyes flashed back up as you slowly edged forward. “I remember you telling me about him, that night we spent near the underground lake, do you remember? We stared up at the rocks and pretended to point out constellations.” 

“How on earth could you... know that?” 

When you were close enough, he reached out tentatively, his trembling fingers brushing against your cheek. The warmth he felt was real, but his mind refused to surrender. “You can’t be real,” he repeated, his voice a whisper and laden with desperation. 

Part of you wanted to use the tadpole to reach into his mind to convince him you were real, and it would have been the quicker option. But you couldn’t—wouldn't— invade his privacy like that. 

A whirlwind of emotions tore through Astarion—love, hope, fear, and an overwhelming sense of longing. He wanted desperately to believe you, to pull you into his arms and never let go. Yet, the scars of his master that etched deep into his soul held him back. 

You reached out and gently took Astarion's hands, placing them on your chest, your touch warm and reassuring. "I understand your fear, but you have to trust in us. Trust in the way my heart skips a beat when I look at you. I am real, Astarion. Our love is real." 

Tears welled up in his eyes as he finally allowed himself to believe. With a trembling hand, he cupped your face, his thumb wiping away a tear that had escaped your eye. “It’s really you,” he breathed, a mixture of awe and relief in his voice. 

You leaned into his hand. “It’s really me.” 

“As much as I would love to recite the perfect poem to encapsulate this heartwarming reunion,” Gale said, putting a hand on both your shoulder and Astarions. “I do believe we should make tracks.” 

Astarion didn’t even have it in him to make any quips or comebacks, so he merely nodded, allowing you to take his hand as you led the way. 

With renewed determination, the group made their escape, leaving a trail of chaos in their wake. Fire and lightning clashed with steel, and the dungeon's oppressive darkness was pierced by their resolute will. Together, they left a burning path of retribution in their wake, until they emerged into the moonlit courtyard and didn’t stop until they made it all the way back to camp. 

“Woo!” Karlach cheered, turning back momentarily to hold up her middle finger up to the Szarr Palace as it disappeared over the horizon. “Can’t believe we actually managed to pull that off.” 

“Neither can I,” Shadowheart deadpanned, her expression softening as she looked at Astarion. “But... I’m glad we did.” 

“So am I,” Gale smiled. “This team wouldn’t be the same without your... well, let’s say charm.” 

“You have such a way with words, Gale,” Astarion weakly joked. “But... know that I am grateful for you rescuing me, even if it didn’t seem like it at the time.” 

“Aw, that’s alright!” Karlach gave him a thumbs up. “You’re with us now, and that’s all that matters.” 

“I appreciate that, darling but...” his voice trembled slightly. “Cazador, he’ll... he needs me for the ritual. He will come after me again.” 

“I’d like to see him try,” you said, your confident smile betrayed by your eyes as you clutched onto his hand like a lifeline. “He may be a vampire lord, but he doesn’t even have a slither of Karlach’s strength, or Shadowheart’s resolve or Gale’s power. And if all else fails we’ll just throw Lae’zel at him.” 

You pause for a moment. 

“I know we fucked up tonight but... that won’t happen again, Astarion. We’ll do better. I’ll be better. He... that bastard won’t get you.” 

The corners of his lips twitched up into a smile as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze in kind. He felt the warmth of your love wrapping around his dead heart, like a protective cloak. In that moment, Astarion didn’t know what path lay ahead for him, but he knew that Cazador wouldn’t have any say in it, or anyone else for that matter. 

His future... belonged to him.  

xxx

eh... sorry the ending's a tad cheesy but hope you enjoyed anyhow!

Links to my other Astarion works

Everything's Fine

Restless

Request - Astarion kills everyone in his path to get to you

Request - Astarion tries to save you from kidnappers

Request - Astarion helps you to see that you're beautiful

#astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion ancunin #my writing #fanfiction #request #tw kidnapping #bg3 gale #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 karlach #bg3 godey

[alicerosejensen]

I just finished your piece of Leon saving reader from kidnapper. So good, definitely one of my favorites for my boy Leon.

I was wondering if I could kindly request a sequel piece of dealing with the dissociative amnesia. I have that and a huge part of it and is forgetting memories that aren’t associated with the traumatic event. You can slowly start to forget everything and you can also sometimes get snippets of a memory back from triggers.

As a Leon lover, I’d love to see Leon comforting and helping the reader with that as well as the PTSD in general.

Of course no pressure or worry if you don’t wanna do this! You’re an amazing writer and I hope you keep writing in the future!! ❤️❤️☺️

Slowly I think that I will start writing again. My mood is still crap, but at least I have the desire to write something. So I'll probably continue to answer requests.

Let this be a small addition to that post about the kidnapping of the reader.

- First of all, Leon will be afraid to leave you alone. He will walk with you everywhere and hold your hand.

- Of course, having experienced such stress, he understands that this will not pass without consequences, so he tries as much as possible to smooth out all the corners and make sure that nothing reminds you of the kidnapping.

- Dissociative amnesia is a shitty thing, you remember that you were afraid, but the memories of those days and the kidnapper himself seemed to be erased from your memory. Leon is only happy about this. He really thinks that you shouldn’t bring this up and constantly tries to distract you from this activity, believing that these memories should be forgotten.

- You instinctively cling to him like a little puppy of a beloved owner. Leon calmly accepts your desire for intimacy with him (not intimacy), so he tries to provide any attention you need.

- Takes you to sessions with psychotherapists and makes sure that you take medications to quickly recover.

- Leon asks to refrain from studying for now. Knowing that the kidnapping took place after classes at college, he is afraid that you will remember the events themselves and you will feel worse, so he suggests that you rest or study at home.

- He cooks food for you (probably simple dishes since I’m sure he doesn’t know how to cook), reads books with you and watches movies and TV shows in the evening, but Leon carefully checks the material before watching.

- Leon will learn different types of therapy thanks to which you can safely express your feelings. Of course he will consult a doctor.

- He really provides incredible support coupled with adequate treatment, thanks to which he sees that you are slowly but surely getting better.

- Leon rejoices at your small achievements in therapy.

- You talk to each other a lot, but subconsciously or not, you don't want to go anywhere or sleep without him. Leon always falls asleep later so he becomes a big spoon in your bed, shielding you from your fears.

- Do you have a fear of the dark? Leon will have no problem turning on the night light just to make you feel safe.

- He will never blame you for your slow recovery. Yes, he's been through a lot of crap and Raccoon City has mostly broken him, but he takes your traumatic experiences very seriously. Leon is not the kind of person who can one day say that he has been through more crap than you.

- If you have a panic attack or react to some trigger that scares you terribly, Leon will immediately rush to calm you down and create a safe zone.

- Of course, he's still a government agent. He can easily be called on a mission at any time, so he will ask someone to look after you. If it's not Claire, he'll just find someone like a nurse.

- However, he will be with you at all critical stages to get through together. You can always lean on his shoulder, especially for you.

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x you #reader #leon resident evil #leon kennedy headcanons #leon kennedy resident evil #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon x you #resident evil leon #resident evil headcanons

[takusan-no-ai]

Damsel in Distress

PAIRING: Albert/Leon/Chris x Female Reader (Romantic) (Separate)

SUMMARY: Albert, Leon, and Chris save (Y/N) from her bio-weapon kidnappers.

In order for Albert to see you as necessary of saving you’d have to be a part of Umbrella Corporation. Someone he could use to further his obsession on becoming the perfect specimen. And you’d have to be his woman; if he didn’t care about you then he wouldn’t save you.

Albert will make quick work of the mission. He finds the hideout fairly easily, the bio-weapon kidnappers not even being an obstacle. Albert will get more and more frustrated the longer it takes him to rescue you.

The sheer amount of kidnappers is enough to give Wesker a headache. They won’t just stay down and surrender, and the last thing Wesker will tolerate is disobedience.

“Where is (Y/N)? I know you have her. She’s taken, so give her back,” Albert threatens the kidnappers, but naturally they won’t relent; stubbornness runs in Umbrella experiments it would seem.

When he does find you he’ll finish off the rest, hold you in his arms, and run faster than he ever has before. “Wesker, can you please slow down? I’m getting dizzy.” “Can’t. I set up a nuke.” “Again?!”.

Higher security around you from now on. The last thing he needs is his lover and partner being a target from his own enemies again. Wesker won’t admit it the way you want him to, but he’s always going to show his love for you by keeping you safe.

Leon was ordered to find and rescue you by the federal government since you’re his teammate and lover; plus, you know information that would be compromising to the government. They even tried to convince Leon to “fire” you if the mission seems too risky.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” Leon didn’t have much of a filter when it came to your safety. He knows he shouldn’t talk down to his superiors, but he doesn’t like them speaking of you as if you’re easily replaceable.

Leon seeks Ingrid for help on tracking your location. “Sure thing Leon. I’ll help you find Miss. (Y/N). But you owe me one, I’m not getting paid for this.” Ingrid finds you with the tracking device put into your ring; Leon gave you a matching ring so that the both of you could always find each other if something ever went wrong.

His ptsd from the raccoon city incident pushes him to be so paranoid. Leon couldn’t handle not seeing you for even a few hours after the incident. And just when he was getting better, you get kidnapped by a bunch of bio-weapon scum.

When Leon finds you he puts in overtime. Killing each enemy no matter what they throw back at him. “(Y/N)! I’m here for you, so just hold on.” Once you’re freed, the both of you fight alongside one another to safety.

After the rescue, Leon prefers you both stick closely together until he calms back down. He might even try to get a day off just to rest with you, his girlfriend.

When Chris hears about your disappearance he acts on instinct. It takes his teammates to slow him down and help him come up with a plan first. They even offer to help him find you. “Remember Chris, there’s no I in team!” “No.”

He spends hours awake, practically living off the coffee, so that he doesn’t waste a moment while trying to find you. His sister, Claire, found some info herself and helped him. Thanks to everyone you were quickly found and now it was just a matter of saving you.

Chris knew you’d be able to take care of yourself, so if you were kidnapped, then the bio-weapons must’ve been a real challenge. “We need as much man power as we can get. These guys could be a real danger if we go underprepared,” Chris said to his team.

By the time they finally find you, Chris has had enough; he’s furious, tired, and worried. Furious that they kidnapped you, tired from the sleepless nights of tracking you, and worried that you might be hurt.

If you have no wounds then his worries are subsided, but if you even have so much as a scratch, then he’s going to blow the place up. Your safety has become tied as a number one priority with his sister’s.

After everything is said and done Chris will want to train with you some, just to help avoid another incident like this from happening again.

- Fin

#female reader #resident evil x reader #chris redfeild x reader #chris redfield #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker #headcanon

[turtleinsoup]

all the fuckedupness of the lemonade leak aside, the others are going to have to realize that leo's actually a genius. your characterization of the boys is a bit different from the show (not bad or incorrect!) but in the show and movie they underestimate leo like all. the time. its kind of the whole point of his character. but in the lemonade leak leo is actually so scary. and hes s o smart to the point where hes practically an unstoppable force. in some epilogue of the story (hypothetical or otherwise) it would be neat to see the others sit back and just take in how intelligent their brother is and how little they might have understood about him before (because im on the edge of my seat hoping for a happy ending cause shits lookin pretty scary the way its going now ksgdhsdjdhfjfj) sorry if this interpretation is completely incorrect i just reread the lemonade leak and its eating my brain (/positive) no pressure to respond or anything!!

Oh!! :D Thank you sm for your kind ask!!

Leo's probably smart enough to know he's better off letting people think he's dumb. Because he doesn't just outwit his enemies, nope, he strangles a spider with her own strings.

I think Donnie doesn't really give a fuck about how genius and terrifying Leo is, because - just like Leo - he thrives off outsmarting an opponent. If the stakes weren't his twin murdering him to death until he's dying, Donnie would probably be having a normal saturday evening.

Like: You could be a coldblooded mob-boss! You could kidnapp & tie Donnie up! You could bring him to some uncharted island in the middle of the night with a bag over his head, and Donnie would probably go: "At least try to put effort into your pranks. My hands are free since Brooklyn, Nardo." I also bet Donnie sometimes just tapes Leo to a chair & treatens to perform the most horrific inhumane experiments on him, to which Leo goes "Dude, just tell me you want to hang out. Look I swear I'm not gonna speedwalk away again... If you put pictures in your powerpoint this time." I hc the twins just vibe with each other's bullshit. Like, Leon doesn't mind being taped to a chair in the name of science, and Donnie doesn't mind being kidnapped to remote islands in the middle of the goddamn night. Because they know exactly that if they get fed up or just want to leave, there'll be zero power struggle about it. (They just let the other go, bc they secretly respect each other, but shush) It's legit just how they communicate "Gimme your attention rn", because they are SHIT at talking xD

Raph probably doesn't care how terrifying of a genius Leo is either, because that's his brother who licks chocolate off his own foot.

Mikey would probably care, from the angle of "Leon, beloved brother, I need you to sit through so many lessons of Doctor Morality, your butt will be fucking square. :D <3"

(Betcha Intelligence is all situational friction anyway. It's a bag of marbles: Not about who has the brightest, but who rolls them across the existential playground best. It's about how many you can fit up yo nose at once.)

So like, yah. There definitly will be a scene were they realize how terrifyingly smart Leo is!

(But also, they won't be scared of him. That much. :D <3)

#thank you for your kind #ask #!!! #<33 #rottmnt #rottmnt lemonade leak #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt leo #rise of the tmnt #tmnt 2018 #rottmnt fic #tmnt #rottmnt au #rise tmnt

[sweetcollywobbles]

MAMA'S GIVIN' Y'ALL A SNACK | yandere! leon kennedy x reader (snippet)

i feel so bad for not really posting any sort of content, so im giving y'all a bit of the smut i'm working on. please let me know what y'all think of this snippet, any sort of feedback would be really nice!

🔞 AGELESS BIOS & MINORS FUCK OFF! 🔞

the you/your pronouns are only temporary, they will be changed to she/her pronouns.

₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡. 𓂃

sometimes you hated your body. more specifically, the way your body reacted to situations. recently, your body has been making you feel a type away about waking up wrapped in leon's big arms. a type of way that left you daydreaming about your kidnapper in lewd situations.

sometimes it was about leon's pretty hands, how they would feel caressing and grabbing at your soft skin. or about how much prettier they would look playing with your wet heat. sometimes it was about them being wrapped tightly around your neck until you're begging for air. or about leon using his strong arms to hold you down to the bed as he fucked you from behind, ruthless and unforgiving.

god, you were needy. so undescribably needy. and today was no different.

it was saturday morning, which meant leon had the day off and was getting ready to head to the gym with someone named 'chris'. you sat on the bed and watched as he bumbled on and on about how this 'chris' guy was a "good buddy", but you couldn't really care. not when he was standing there in a black compression shirt and joggers that hugged him oh so right.

you feared you were no better than a man. completely objectifying your kidnapper in the lewdest scenarios your mind could come up with while he droned on about whatever. legs pinching together as a natural reaction to appease your growing heat with a bit of friction.

you sat there, blank stare going nowhere. wondering what would happen if you asked him to stay. to cancel his plans, stay here and fuck you senseless until it was-

"———, are you alright?"

the familiar voice snapping you back to reality. "what?"

"i asked if you were alright."

caught, red handed.

₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡. 𓂃

again, i am no writer. this is all for shits and giggles.

xx

#yandere leon kennedy #yandere!leon kennedy #dark!leon kennedy #dark leon kennedy

[teecupangel]

pops in here bc I’ve been writing Resident Evil crossover AUs for fun (and angst) and I have a fun little idea for you!

so, re4make has dropped some interesting and tasty lore about Los Illuminados, aka the parasite cult that makes up the main bad guys in this particular game. according to the new lore, they popped up in 1554 and were exiled from their old place in 1741. now, we know that mutations and parasites and viruses can possibly extend somebody’s life in REverse beyond their natural lifespan and also make them far more durable than humans. I was thinking—Edward Kenway gets killed in 1735. this we’re well aware of. but what if he wasn’t?

say that Birch is aware of Los Iluminados and their work. he wants to keep a closer eye on them since he hears a lot about Las Plagas and its hive mind abilities, but he’s not about to risk becoming a part of their hive mind—he doesn’t entirely trust this cult. and he has a pesky Assassin who’s just found out that he’s actually a Templar, and who has a book and a son he would defend. if he survives the night—and it’s damn near a guarantee that he would, Birch has heard that he once cleared a whole deck of a galleon on his own—there’s nothing stopping him from taking up his sword and beelining to Birch and just cutting down every last member of the British Rite. but he can’t do that, if he has a bug inside his head.

so Edward gets knocked unconscious, and dragged off to the cult. now Birch has a reason to keep an eye on the cult, and he’s taken Edward out of the picture with no one the wiser for it.

years later—hundreds of years later—Desmond Miles, 17yo runaway, gets kidnapped along with Ashley Graham for whatever reason. maybe he saw too much and immediately launched himself at Krauser and actually managed to acquit himself pretty well in a fight, only to get stuffed into a van along with a very terrified First Daughter. Leon goes to find them.

in the meantime, Saddler has a very fucked-up Edward stand guard, and Desmond starts to talk to this guy, bc something about him seems…not quite the same as the rest of the cult. there’s some core of humanity still holding stubbornly on inside him, even if he looks pretty bad off, if not heavily mutated by now. which is how Leon ends up finding both Ashley and Desmond having managed to get a very snarly pirate to help break them out and has to gently convince said pirate that yes he really is here to help them please put that pitchfork down sir.

Oooohhh, if you wanted to, you can even include one of Ezio’s or Aquilar’s descendants in the lore as well, maybe even both? 1554 is around the time Flavia and Marcello would be 20~21 years old. Old enough to be Assassins that would be sent to foreign lands to help other Brotherhoods. We can even have them be sent by the current mentor of the Spanish Brotherhood because of this cult that supposed worship something ‘strange’. The mentor thought that the Italian Brotherhood who had a mentor who had been quite verse in strange things would have an idea of what they’re dealing with. Flavia or Marcello (or both if you want) asks to be sent because it seems connected to the precursors and, as Ezio Auditore’s children, it’s their duty to continue their father’s legacy.

They meet up with Aquilar’s child (or grandchild maybe?) and they help in exiling Los Illuminados, making the cult hate them and the Brotherhood in the process.

It’s because of their hatred for the Brotherhood that Birch was able to have a distant alliance with them and it’s because of his connection with the cult that Edward starts to suspect him as being a Templar.

(To sprinkle more angst, how about Haytham saw his father being dragged away and tried to save him, killing one of the kidnappers which ends with Teresa seeing him as a cold blooded killer and he is indoctrinated by Birch as a way to try and find Edward but never found him. After learning Birch was the leader of his father’s kidnapping, he gives up on Edward because Birch burned all evidence that will link him to Edward and the Los Illuminados)

Okay, so we go to the Ashley and Desmond part of the story.

Ashley is around 20 years old when she was abducted so, if you’d like, she could be in New York to shop or something when she was kidnapped. Desmond was on his way to his first shift in Bad Weather and saw a woman struggling while being dragged into a car with men looking like professional bodyguards (suit, sunglasses, wired ear pieces) on the ground, unconscious maybe? Dead even?

Desmond didn’t have time to think, his body reacted and he punched one of them. He starts to fight them off while telling the girl to run and the girl tried to, screaming for help but there were more men than they expected but her screaming (and his battle cries, they were not screams, they were battle cries damn it) was attracting attention so they had to book it quickly and Desmond was swept alongside the girl in the process.

Leon is briefed that an unknown man with no past of his own may be with the president’s daughter and he’s a low priority. The most that Leon is expected to do is find out who he was and if he was truly just taken alongside the Ashley because he tried to be a good Samaritan.

Now Saddler though…

Saddler had planned to kill Desmond from the very beginning but then he noticed something peculiar.

Desmond looked familiar.

So he let Desmond live because he needs to find out why Desmond looks familiar at all. He orders Edward to guard them and to keep them there.

Leon starts doing his job and Saddler gets sidetracked.

When he heard that Edward had ‘betrayed’ them, he realized why Desmond looked so familiar.

In one of the oldest journals written by his ancestors, there were sketches of the three Assassins who led to their fall and exile.

And two of them…

… looked very similar to Desmond Miles.

So now, Saddler believes Desmond is a descendant of those who exiled them and wants to infect him as well.

Because what better revenge is there than to have a descendant of those who wronged them become their ‘property’?

Unorganized Notes:

I like to imagine Ashley and Desmond become friends immediately, with Desmond helping Ashley stay calm while Ashley gives Desmond something he wanted ever since he was a child, a close friend.

Ashley would definitely not leave without Desmond and Desmond would do everything he can to keep Ashley safe.

Edward ‘recognize’ Desmond, in a way that Desmond reminds him of his young son, but he doesn’t understand it, because the infection inside him mutated thanks to his ‘bloodline’, so he’s not exactly the same as the others.

Edward will be conflicted though because his infection would make him want to obey the cult but he can't hurt Desmond at all. He doesn't want to and his body will never allow it.

Is it his own free will? The reminder of a past long gone? Or...

The Calculations at work?

#okay so I haven’t played the re4 remake yet #because that collector’s ed was too expensive for me lol #but I did play the og re4 decades ago #so if this feels like it has og re4 vibes #that’s probably it #assassin's creed #desmond miles #edward kenway #resident evil #ashley graham #leon kennedy #fic idea: assassin's creed #teecup writes/has a plot #ask and answer #fic idea: crossover #fic idea: resident evil