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90sbee · 5 months

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The patrol is over

Leon S. Kennedy x Ashley Graham

2k words. Also on ao3

As Leon and Ashley await for the helicopter to take them to safety, Leon is slowly spiralling, full of concern still. It is then that a ghost from his past decides to visit him.

What can I say, I had this idea already and then I saw Leshley Week... It was like the perfect excuse to write and post this one. Also this fic is quite silly but, hey, I love writing Leon's pov. Also @lightning-hawke is a sweetheart and she made sure that this was readable. Everybody please thank you to this brave soldier who had to face my 3am delusional writing.

Content: All Leon's pov, angsty and sad but also. Cathartic. Ash is asleep the whole time cos baby needed a nap after all that. Spooning, protective!Leon.

Warnings: Hallucinations, anxiety. Mention of guns, knives, zombies. Sleep deprivation. And I think that's it? Yeah, this is actually SFW, for once, haha.

It’s been three hours. Maybe four. Perhaps five.

Leon can’t sleep. He has tried it, though, but his body is still running on adrenaline and anxiety and he doubts that he will actually get some rest today.

Whatever. He has had it worse.

Ashley is passed out on the bed, curled up into herself, softly snoring. Leon blinks, trying to keep his eyes open. Even if his body is exhausted, his mind is still rushing through all the different scenarios in which this could still go wrong, heart rattling inside his chest.

What if Luis was wrong? What if the Plagas is still inside them? What if he ends up falling asleep, body going slump on this old chair and when he wakes up, he has hurt her?

God. Such idea gives him goosebumps, and he sits even farther from the bed.

What if instead, it is her? What if Ashley opens her eyes and tries to attack him?

Leon eyes the knife on the nightstand, the guns on the floor.

He knows he wouldn’t use any weapon against her, anyway. But if she hurt anyone, he’d be responsible.

God. Fuck responsibilities and guilt. It would’ve meant he had failed.

His blood runs cold then.

A failure. Assigned on what was, probably, the most important mission in his life. The president’s daughter involved, and what was supposed to be one of the top agents in the country, ruining everything. Returning a shadow of a woman, a timebomb.

Leon hides his face in his hands for a while, trying to catch his breath.

He knows he is spiralling.

He has to keep some faith: faith in Ashley, faith in Luis.

In himself, even if he is not used to it.

He looks at her, pursing his lips.

She breathes so calmly. Expression soft, features finally having some well-deserved rest. She is so gorgeous too. A soul too kind for him. He feels guilty for refusing to accept her proposal, though he is aware that being her bodyguard would have never actually been possible.

He blushes slightly, knowing that she at least wanted his company for a little longer. Maybe he is not so useless after all. She had also asked him to hold her to sleep, but he had simply shaken his head. “You’ll be fine, I promise. You’ll probably have a better rest taking up the whole bed”.

He sighs, crossing his arms. Leon is not sure how long it will take until the helicopter arrives. He hopes it is soon, because his head hurts and he feels hungry but he can’t leave her side and he definitely doesn’t trust the police officers next door.

No, scratch that.

He wishes the helicopter never arrives.

Because that means it is all over.

His gaze softens as he looks at her, feeling his heart pulling at its strings. For a moment, he considers it. A life with her. Visiting her at the White House. Maybe indeed fighting to accept the bodyguard position, his hand on her back as he keeps her safe once more, the sound of her laugh. The idea of getting acquainted with her shampoo brand, learning her favourite colour, kissing her forehead.

He is spiralling again, but this time in a more dangerous direction. Leon cracks his knuckles, yawning.

There is no point into wasting time thinking of all this. He can’t afford to lose footing in reality. And the reality is forcing him to remember that only a few hours they had both been fighting a Plagas, and he can’t be completely sure that the coast is clear. The mission isn’t over until she is back home, until they both reach American ground.

His foot starts hitting the floor quickly, as his headache gets even worse. He has to keep himself awake, he can’t lose focus.

At any given point Ashley could wake up and look at him with those soft doe eyes and ask anything, anything from him and, god, he’d give her the world, but first… But first he has to make sure that they’re both safe.

She’s make him feel like a worthy prince.

He can’t lose the princess for being careless.

He feels thirsty but he doesn’t even want to move his eyes away from her. His heart picks up when he thinks her chest stops moving up and down, but he realises it is his mind playing tricks on him as she sighs again.

Fuck. He is really losing his shit. He’s been trained for this crap. He barely sleeps anyway.

He curses in a whisper and looks down, grabs the water bottle next to his foot and sits down again.

That’s when he notices there is someone else in the room.

How? How would that be possible? There is no fucking way. It takes him just a second to fucking comprehend what is going on, but in an instant he has his knife on his fist, standing up as he approaches the figure, ready to attack the stranger.

The knife doesn’t hit anything.

Leon stills his movements then, realising that he recognises the face in front of him: the dirty-bloodied uniform, the stupid toothy smile, the look of hope in his eyes.

It’s him. The ghost of his younger version, the one from Raccoon City, stands before him.

“Fuck off,” Leon groans. He knows now that he is hallucinating. “Go away,” he pleads, in a growl, sitting down once more. His fucking head feels like about to explode.

“Buddy, I don’t think I’m going anywhere,” answers the more excitedly voice.

Leon considers replying, but he doesn’t want to wake Ashley up. The poor thing has already gone through too much, the least she needs at the moment is the man that is supposed to keep her safe having a full-on discussion with himself.

Fucking insane. He hides his face in his hands.

It’s not the first time it’s happened, that’s for sure. He’s gone through it all: hallucinations for being sleep-deprived, sleep paralysis after the most excruciating missions.

Most of the times it’s not even monsters, or zombies. Most times it’s people he knew: Annette, Ada a couple of times too. Last time it was Marvin, his body bloody and his eyes white as he swears he could hear his cries of pain still.

He wonders if maybe Luis will join as well, sometime, another painful reminder of his failures.

But himself? This was new.

“What the fuck do you want?” he mumbles. It Is stupid, Leon knows that. But perhaps by talking to this ghost of himself he could get rid of it faster, make sure he can go back to guard Ashley.

“Heh, I think it is obvious what you want,” the high-pitched voice replies. Leon looks up a moment, seeing the rookie sitting on the floor next to the bed, pointing at Ashley.

“Very funny,” Leon groans.

“What? Are you gonna deny it? I’m literally you.”

“Just, shut up.”

Surprisingly, that works. When Leon looks up once more, the figure isn’t there. He yawns, rubbing his temple. Maybe he is gone, for real. Maybe his mind will stop playing tricks on him now. He resumes his watch, his whole attention directed towards Ashley.

He is not even sure what time it is now, but he hopes it won’t be too long. At this point, he is being more of a nuisance than an actual help, a real protection for her. He knows he will have to sleep soon.

Not yet, though. Not fucking yet. He has to fucking hold on, try to keep it together.

“Hey, maybe you should get some actual sleep,” the voice suddenly interrupts him, now coming from next to him.

Leon almost stumbles from his chair, heart racing.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” he half-shouts, and immediately purses his lips, embarrassed.

The rookie, the fucking rookie, sitting down next to him.

“Sorry, just trying to help,” he mumbles.

Leon shakes his head. He doesn’t want to say anything else. He is sure he almost woke Ashley up. He decides to acknowledge this presence, since it is becoming quite clear that it is not leaving for now.

“What do you want? Don’t fucking say Ashley, I swear to God,” he whispers, ashamed.

“Well, you’re the one that should know that. Your brain is literally hallucinating me at this point.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. I can’t sleep yet,” he replies, crossing his arm as he stands up, trying to walk around the room a little, forcing his body not to pass out.

“You look incredibly nervous, dude,” his younger version chuckles, seemingly amused.

“I’m not.”

“Why are you walking around, then?”

“Well, someone has to make sure the president’s daughter doesn’t die on my watch. I’d say that’s some pretty big responsibility,” his heart is about to get out of his chest, and he is sweating.

The headache is now deeper, more annoying.

“She is safe now, Jesus Christ. Give yourself some credit, man.”

“She is not,” Leon suddenly replies.

“She is. Don’t you trust Luis? Do you think he would have lied to you?”

That does stop him in his tracks. Perhaps the rookie has a point. Leon nods, slowly. In the darkness of the room, he looks at his arms. The veins are normal still. He hasn’t had any weird visions since they got the Plagas expelled.

Well, except for the unpleasant vision that his own mind conjures. Maybe even more annoying than Lord Saddler’s ones.

He doesn’t acknowledge the rookie, though, but he comes back to sit on the chair.

“How many hours has it been now?” this ghost insists.

“I dunno.”

“You do know.”

God. He didn’t remember his younger voice being that annoying. Leon inhales, trying to calm himself down.

“Five hours,” he replies after a moment.

“If any of you were still infected, don’t you think the Plagas would have acted up by now? Also, Lord Saddled is dead now. There is no one controlling the Plagas now. All the Ganado died, remember?”

Leon hates that the little kid is right.

“I guess that’s true,” Leon admits.

The rookie laughs.

“She is fine. You don’t need to keep watching over her like a creep. I mean, not that we are being creepy…”

Leon interrupts himself: “Just go to the point, man”.

The rookie looks up at him, glittering eyes full of hope and a gentle small on his face.

“Look, I thought I was the rookie here, but you’re being a whole amateur now,” he stands up, in silence. “The patrol is over, rookie”.

Leon looks at himself. That shadow of himself, too full of hope and of light. He blinks, still processing the rookie’s words… His own words, echoing from and inside his head.

The patrol is over.

Fuck.

He slumps on the chair, eyes welling up with tears. For a moment, he lets himself cry in silence, under the soft sound of Ashley’s breathing. He breaks down a little, feels pity for himself, as well as relief. He dries off his tears with his palm, trying not to be too much of a mess in case she wakes up. He should be strong still. He needs to be.

By now, the headache is unbearable and his eyes hurt, a combination of exhaustion and the tears. But he knows it’s true: they’re both safe. He saved her. Ashley is safe. And even if he can’t have her, if this story ends in a few hours, he can still breathe without regrets. He can even make sure that their last memories together are something pleasant, something nice and comforting.

Leon tries to calm his breathing. He looks up, still curious as to whether the old presence is still there, but not anymore.

No more ghosts in the room. Just Ashley and him now.

With heavy steps he moves towards the bed, dizzy by now. He lies down on the bed and allows himself to breathe against Ashley’s shoulder, timidly holding her from behind. He grips her body close to his, knowing this is the only and last time he’ll have this chance. And even if she is half-asleep, Ashley sighs, content on her sleep, as Leon closes his eyes, finally allowing himself to rest.

The patrol is over and so is their story. But for a while, they can still lie close together, in the dark. Both finally safe, at last.

My brain actually wanted to be mean and make it Marvin instead of Rookie Leon but you know what. I don't need to break my heart like that SO much. Let Leon be angry at himself, it's fun, lol.

#leshleyweek2023 #leshley #eagleone #leon kennedy x ashley graham #leon x ashley #dividers by @/cafekitsune and @/vase-of-lilies #i know this will do bad but i don't care i just like them :3 i want to write for pretty much every leon ship there is tbh hehe #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy angst #mine #writer bee #meli <3

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bracketsoffear · 1 month

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Harrow the Ninth (Tamsyn Muir) "Harrow the Ninth is, above all, really fucking confusing. Roughly every third chapter is actively gaslighting the reader about what happened in the last book. The main character is fucking struggling to maintain any sort of grip on reality all throughout the story, and more often than not, she fails miserably. This is due to several factors, including, but not limited to - sleep deprivation, latent schizophrenia, ruthless emotional manipulation from everyone around her, being full of a frankly alarming number of ghosts from several entirely unrelated sources, childhood parental and religious trauma, and a self-inflicted amateur lobotomy."

Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius (Jorge Luis Borges) "A short story concerning the author and his friend stumbling upon a mention of the Uqbar region in an encyclopedia, a place which is found in no other literature. One of the myths of Uqbar concerns Tlön, a fantastical place where people do not believe in the reality of the material world, and only the most outre scholars would dare suggest that objects have permanence. Objects there "grow vague or sketchy and lose detail" when they begin to be forgotten, culminating in their disappearance when they are completely forgotten. One year later, Tlönian objects begin to appear in the real world. Then a complete encyclopedia of the world turns up, transforming the human understanding of science and philosophy. As the author writes his postscript, the world is transforming entirely into Tlön."

#spiral poll #the spiral #poll #the magnus archives #leitner tournament #Harrow the Ninth #Tamsyn Muir #Tlön Uqbar Orbis Tertius #Jorge Luis Borges

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honey-dont · 1 year

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my freight ocs for freight week!! long post incoming i have a lot of them <3

bonnabelle the milk car

former boxcar converted into a milk car. mostly does short line trips to fairs and stuff. very silly and has no idea what's going on most of the time. loves pink, strawberries, and stuffed animals! tex is her cousin and bff. has a little baby crush on coco

(art by calocera)

tex the cattle car

former boxcar converted into a cattle car. very devoted to his cargo and takes really good care of them! epitome of a good southern boy. will hold the door open for you and then get stuck holding it open for the next dozen people. cousins and bffs with bonnabelle. has a will-they-won't-they thing going on with charley

(art by vanillamouse)

charlemange the autorack

perpetually sleep-deprived and pissed-off autorack. has a silly traffic cone hat. scarily tall (6'5" without hat). gender is ??? but likes presenting more feminine when he has the energy for it. has a will-they-won't-they thing going on with tex

(art by me)

bea the ore jenny

ore jenny who is a very self-indulgent flatdust fan kid :) takes after both her dads! headstrong, energetic, and a social butterfly. forgets to empty her load a lot. missing a tooth. dating luis (she calls him lucho <3)

(art by me)

luis the ballast hopper

a ballast hopper with big dreams! spends most of his time stuck in the yard doing maintenance work ): he has icicle breakers equipped in the winter and gets put on passenger lines to protect the coaches. a little dumb but very sweet and doing his best. dating bea and adores her but is scared of her dad (flat top. dustin is fine)

(art by truthful-tidings)

jerrie the boom car

former gondola converted into a boom car (was originally scheduled to be scrapped but saved at the last minute). work partners and best friends with dolan the big hook and keeps him focused on the job. likes reading! doesn't like humans and thinks stealing from them is always morally correct

(art by magmastar)

#starlight express #stex #stex ocs #freightweek2023 #david.ocs #bonnabelle the milk car #tex the cattle car #charley the autorack #bea the ore jenny #luis the icicle breaker #jerrie the boom car #tumblr wouldnt let me add more than one image for each so you are spared #long post/

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wisecrackingeric-2 · 7 months

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Reposting some fics for @serennedyweek that would’ve worked for Day 1 but I opted to go for fanart instead!!!!

Day 1: Domestic!!

Summary:

Set ten years after the events of Resident Evil 4; Luis and Leon have been in a long-term relationship and finally decided to have a Son.

Only Luis finds out that being a Father reminds him of his a Grandfather more than he was expecting.

So one night when their Son wakes up crying, Luis decides to take it upon himself to comfort both himself his baby.

Fic under Cut!!

Luis wasn’t usually a light sleeper.

At least, he didn’t think he was. Not until he had his own child, that is.

Most nights nowadays were spent sandwiched against Leon or Chris- Whoever was home at the time- With his back facing their chests, and their arms draped protectively over his shoulders. Usually accompanied by one or the others’ legs being entangled between Luis’, too.

The two of them usually came home late, and if Luis wasn’t awake, they’d slip under the covers with him wordlessly- Knowing that they’d probably be forced to wake up earlier than their boyfriend in the morning, anyways.

But Luis didn’t mind. He never minded; Putting up with their grouchy, sleep-deprived attitudes and their constant old-married-couple back and forth banter was more than reasonable for him. Especially after everything.

August 2004 felt like a lifetime ago now. So much had changed and so many years passed that it was impossible for Luis to look back and feel any connection towards the man he once was.

He remembered- extremely vividly- lying on that cold, hard concrete and practically begging for Leon to tell him he was a good person during what he was convinced were his final moments. His mouth was full of blood and he could hardly keep a cigarette between his lips, let alone light it.

He’d asked Leon, in an act of desperation, ‘ What do you think, Leon? People can change, right?’

It was a desperate plea for forgiveness. He wanted to change so badly yet he always still retraced those same habits that got him in that position in the first place. He thought back to his Grandfather in his ‘dying’ moments; And he wondered if he’d be ashamed or proud.

But Leon had saved him regardless. In every way a person could be saved. Not only did he literally shove some kind of miscellaneous herb into his mouth and pick him up to drape his bloody body over his shoulders- But once they’d arrived back in the USA, Leon did everything in his power to make sure Luis didn’t slip into that self-deprecating cycle of guilt and self-pity he seemed to be oh-so familiar with.

Leon proved to Luis that people could change. And not only that, but people were deserving of love regardless of what they have done.

Luis loved Leon in a way that was so undeniably human and raw and vulnerable it almost hurt at times.

The pair of them couldn’t keep their eyes- or hands- off of each other.

Then Luis was introduced to Chris Redfield; Big, friendly, puppydog-like Chris Redfield who so painfully obviously had the biggest crush on Leon it made Luis feel like he was going insane. The two of them would stammer and blush and shift their weight awkwardly every single time they were alone; And, hell, Luis would be lying if he said he didn’t find the guy attractive as all hell. So they approached him about the possibility of Polyamory;

And here they all were, ten years later, so ingrained and fixed in each other's lives that they practically couldn’t be seen apart from one another. Their day-to-day was so domestic- so routine- And Luis wouldn’t have had it any other way.

If you had asked him ten years ago where he thought he’d be in life, his answer would probably be dead.

Past-Luis probably couldn’t have even fathomed being so unabashedly loved, so unashamedly domestic and genuinely happy.

Was he always happy? No, far from it, in fact. There were plenty of nights where he still felt the ghost of Krauser's knife holed in his spine, or the squirming Plagas inside of his chest like a ghost limb. Sometimes his face still grew hot from the memories of his Grandfather burning alive in his childhood home. He found it hard to fall asleep by himself sometimes- So Leon and Chris would always make an effort to comfort him. One of them would be pressed up against his back, and the other laying across his chest. Reminding him with their physical bodies that he was Ok.

Tonight was exactly one of those nights; Luis had been tossing and turning in his sleep relentlessly since he got home and shed himself of his usual Lab coat. Although the agreement with the US government was that he’d tag along with Leon on missions, he found himself working in the Labs with Rebecca more often than not- And of course, that eventually turned into a full-time job after Leon had finally retired.

Still, though, Luis came home later than expected. And the days stress weighing down on him seemed to trigger some deep-seeded memories from his childhood that he’d rather not forget.

That seemed to usually be his brain's go-to trauma response, at least; ‘Flash some memories of your Grandfather while you try to sleep and you’ll be A-OK’.

Luis couldn’t remember when he had made it to his bed- Nor could he remember when Leon had slipped under the sheets beside him- But he hardly slept regardless. He tried counting sheep and snuggling into his partner's embrace; but nothing helped. There wasn’t even anything specific that was causing this lack of sleep. He just.. Couldn’t. He just had to let his brain replay memories of his childhood with his Grandfather like an awfully cruel movie.

So when the sound of his Son’s crying filled the air in an ear-piercing scream, Luis was already prepared and sitting up on his elbows before Leon had even stirred awake.

“ I’ll go get the baby,”

Luis whispered, leaning over to kiss Leon on the temple of his head before forcing himself up straight.

His voice was husky and gravelly, and despite having been awake for at least a few hours his limbs were all still too stiff to avoid a popping noise when they stretched.

Leon responded with a quiet ‘ hhhhrmmphhh’ before he shuffled back down under the covers, pressing the ends of his blanket up to his ears in an attempt to drown out the baby’s crying.

Luis just huffed a laugh at the sorry sight of his tired partner and got up on his feet with a groan.

Standing up to exit their shared bedroom, Luis did his best to tie up his long, graying salt-and-pepper hair in a messy half-ponytail with the hair tie he always insisted on having wrapped around his wrists. Years ago, Luis had insisted to Leon that ‘He wasn’t trying to grow his hair out, he just didn't trust the barbers’.

But ten years later with his hair reaching his mid-back at this point, that was obviously a lie. Besides, Luis liked it like this; From what he could remember, his Grandfather always kept his hair long, so it was sentimental in a weird way.

“ Loooeeeeesss….”

Leon reached an arm out from beneath the blankets to grab at his’, blue eyes blinking slowly to try and adjust to the light.

“ Mwhere are you goin’ love…?”

“I just told you,” Luis chuckled, “I’m gonna go put Matteo back to sleep”

Leon made a noise of protest and tried to sit up from underneath his sheets, pulling Luis in closer by the arm.

“ Nonono, don’ get up, I can go get him..”

“ Sssshhhh, just go back to bed mí amor,”

Luis gently pushed Leon back down onto his pillow with one hand, leaning over to press a sleepy kiss against his lips.

“I was already up. You just go back to sleep, sí?”

The blonde huffed a reluctant sigh but still sunk back under the covers regardless. His lips were pursed in a little pout as he let go of Luis’ hand.

“But you’re always up to get him. Y’know I’m happy to do it once ‘n a while, right?”

Luis paused for a moment, biting his lip as he tried to figure out how he should respond. Leon was half-asleep, a quarter of the way to being absolutely dead to the world; but he was still right.

Luis was always the one to go put Matteo back to bed when he woke up screaming like this.

He always insisted that Chris or Leon stay in bed, go back to sleep; And tonight was no exception. But being faced with the question he suddenly found that he couldn’t actually figure out why.

Luis always just assumed that it was the least he could do in return. Chris and Leon, despite being ‘retired’, were still constantly called into the office or on smaller Ops- Sometimes for days at a time, even. And while Luis had his day job with Rebecca in the labs, they were much more forgiving when it came to time off.

His two lovers had given him the entire world, in his mind. They’d given him a space to live and to grow as a person and they’d given him more love than any other human being had ever shown him; and most importantly, they gave him the opportunity to be a Father. They all were.

He got the opportunity of a lifetime to look after someone just as his Grandfather had looked after him.

So maybe Luis just wanted to repay them in some way.

They always insisted he didn’t need to do that; that him just being there was more than enough.

But that nagging voice in the back of his head never left, no matter how hard he tried.

“I know…”

Was all Luis could respond with, his voice a little deflated in defeat.

“Just… Just let me do this for you, just this once. ¿Ok, cariño?”

“Okay…” Leon yawned, his voice still slightly reluctant as he snuggled his face further into the pillow. And like a light, he was out within seconds.

Luis smiled and huffed a breath of air through his nose at the sight of his sleepy partner. With one final ruffle of his blonde hair, Luis was snapped back to reality when he heard his Son wailing once more from upstairs.

Luis made his way up to the second floor with a slouched posture and dragging feet; he slipped his reading glasses on somewhere half-way up, and was thoroughly greeted by the high-pitched cries of his baby the second the door creaked open.

Matteo’s room was simple; It didn’t need to be very big, after all (And even so, it was bigger than Luis’ old childhood room with his Grandfather.)

The walls were covered in pastel blue-and-pink flowers painted on courtesy of Ashley one weekend, and the roof was littered in pale blue, glow-in-the-dark stars.

Matteo's cot sat tucked up against the wall, and stuffed toys littering the floor where they must’ve slipped off and landed in a maze-like heap. Luis could just barely make out his Son’s silhouette against the bars of the cot;

And Luis’ heart promptly shattered into a million pieces when he saw Matteo reach out his little baby-arms into the sky at the sound of his entering the room.

Luis skilfully stepped over the pile of toys laying across his floor, before pressing a gentle hand against the wooden bars of Matteo’s cot.

Just as expected, the baby had kicked his blankets off- Probably the cause of his screaming- And had his tiny hands balled up in even tinier fists as big, fat tears fell down his chubby cheeks.

Luis cooed in an attempt to keep himself from crying.

“ Ssssshhhhh… ¿ver? Estoy aquí, Teo…”

His words were more for soothing himself rather than the baby as he felt his voice grow wobbly at the sight. Ever since ‘Teo’ was born, Luis became an absolute crybaby- Chris and Leon teased him about it constantly, but never in a mean-spirited way.

Seeing his Son in any kind of discomfort felt worse than any knife to the back ever could; His heart squeezed and all he wanted to do was wipe away those tears forever and never let go of his little boy until he was smiling and laughing again. He wanted to hold and cradle him every second of the day- and if he could, he would.

‘ You’re always hogging our son’, Leon had teased one day, watching Luis bounce their kid against his hip. From beside him, Chris reached over to give Matteo a kiss on the cheek.

‘ Yeah, you never let us hold him’

‘¡Tu idiotas! You can hold him if you want!’ Luis had responded, feeling a little guilty. But his partner's laughter confirmed it was only a joke.

‘ Ignore us, Luis. Teo likes it more when you hold him anyways’

‘He likes it more when you guys tuck him into bed’, Luis had offered, earning laughter from Leon, whose index finger was being held tightly by Teo’s little hands.

Luis was promptly broken out of his trip down memory lane by another sharp, high-pitched scream out of Matteo’s mouth, and although Luis did his best to soothe his Son by rubbing the pads of his thumb across his reddened and tear-stained chubby cheeks- It was no use. Matteo kept screaming and grabbing his hands out into the air, trying to reach for Luis’ long locks.

Through the screaming, Luis couldn’t help but chuckle a little; Teo was always grabbing onto his hair one way or another. He figured it must’ve been some kind of self-comforting baby thing, so he just let him. Matteo hardly ever pulled at it, anyways. He just kinda… held on.

No matter how hard Luis tried to sway his baby boy back to sleep from above the cot, it was all for naught. He just kept crying and wailing, and the longer it went on, the more Luis couldn’t handle seeing his Son in tears like this.

So against his better judgment, Luis cupped his hands underneath his small back and lifted him up with a small ‘ There we go…’, cupping the baby’s head inbetween his hand and elbow, firmly grasping onto his leg with the other.

Luis had very quickly figured out that the usual bouncing and ‘there-there’s did not work on his Son. The motion only served to make his crying worse generally, so the brunette resorted to- extremely softly- rocking Matteo back and forth in his arms.

That only worked for a couple moments before Teo was back to wailing again. This time slightly quieter, Luis noted to himself victoriously. He silently wondered if he ever cried as much when his Grandfather took care of him.

He couldn’t tell if he was just tired and therefor had his emotions dialed up to 100 (You know what they say; Never trust your brain past 10:00 PM) Or if he was genuinely upset by his Son’s crying, but Luis felt practically desperate to get him to stop. He didn’t even care about the noise; Just seeing his little bundle of joy’s face all scrunched up and wet from big, fat tears rolling down his face was infinitely more worrying to him than the noise.

So, as gently as possible, Luis bought Matteo up to his face, and after pressing his delicate little forehead against his, Luis started to place feather-light kisses against his baby’s skin. He placed them so tenderly that his own skin tingled from the sensation. As if Matteo was made from porcelain.

And to Luis, he may as well have been.

Every tiny action, every small breath was met with internal cringing- Luis was so self-conscious of just how unfathomably small Matteo was that even just brushing his nose up against the baby’s was enough to make his heart squeeze in worry.

But, at least there was one bright side; Matteo was slowly starting to quieten down his wailing. Every pillowy kiss against his plush skin forced Matteo to stop howling until eventually his voice was broken down to cracked sobs.

But even that seemed to come with it’s own price; Matteo never stopped crying. Screams were replaced with wobbly little whimpers and whines, and his bottom lip quivered every time those big tears of his fell down his chin.

Luis didn’t even know it was possible for his heart to ache with empathy more than it already had, and he secretly wished Matteo would just start screaming again so he didn’t have to see his beautiful boy sobbing silently like this.

“ Nonononono, no llores niño hermoso, no llores…”

Luis pressed his forehead up against Matteo’s and squeezed his eyes shut, dipping him just a tiny bit so that his long, curly hair would fall over Teo’s head like a curtain; engulfing the baby in darkness even further. He pressed kisses against Matteo’s small nose and wiped away the tears with his own- At least he tried to with his fast they were falling.

“ Deja de llorar por mí, sí? Deja de llorar… Deja de llorar…”

Luis tried to hum in between his words of encouragement, and even though Matteo probably couldn’t understand him- It seemed to be working regardless.

“ ¿Ver? Ahí tienes, no llores nena, lo estás haciendo tan bien… Tan bueno para mí, Teo”

All Luis could do was let his words of encouragement and comfort sink into his Son's skin, even if he couldn’t fully understand them. He hoped that somehow the message got through regardless of their language barrier, that by some miracle, Matteo understood what Luis was trying to tell him and took it to heart.

“ Te amo, Teo. ¿Tú lo sabes? Te amo mucho más de lo que podrías saber. Te amaré pase lo que pase”

Luis couldn’t tell who he was talking to at this point; Matteo or himself. But it didn’t matter either way. His words rung truer than anything that had ever come out of his mouth.

Luis had spent so much of his life lying. He’d spent so much of it running and selling his soul to the highest bidder that he’d almost forgotten what it was like to be so open and vulnerable with someone.

His Grandfather’s cottage, Valdelobos, Umbrella, Los Illuminados; The names blended together in his mind at this point.

He’d spent too long running.

He found out what a true chance at life looked like and it looked like Leon, Chris and Matteo.

Every stereotype and throwaway comment that Luis heard about how staring at your baby is like ‘Love at first sight’ was so unbelievably true; Luis just wished he could express his love in a way his beautiful boy could understand.

But Matteo still remained awake. His tears had almost come to a complete halt with Luis’ soft words, but he was still staring up at his dad with those big, sleepless, curious brown eyes; it made Luis chuckle.

“ No puedo dormir, ¿Oye? Yo tampoco puedo…”

Luis hummed thoughtfully for a moment, methodically running his thumb across Matteo’s soft, thin brown hair before coming up with an idea. He smiled at the thought alone, and almost felt his heart leap out of his throat when Matteo half-smiled back.

Luis began to rock Matteo back and forth as he began to sing a song he just barely remembered his Grandfather singing to him when he was just a boy;

“ Duérmete mí niño, duérmete mí amor,

Duérmete pedazo de mí corazón,”

Luis smiled as Matteo began to quietly babble in response, holding him even closer.

“ Este niño mío que nació de noche

Quiere que lo lleve a pasear en coche.”

Matteo reached out his tiny hands to grasp at Luis’ stubble, running his fingers over the hair as his little eyes began to droop lower and lower. It took all of Luis’ energy not to grab his face and squeeze him with a million kisses right then and there.

“ Este niño mío que nació de día quiere que lo lleve a la dulcería,”

Luis let his eyes flutter shut as Matteo yawned and lulled his head to the side. Tiny even breaths let the brunette know that his Son had fallen asleep- Yet he kept singing, determined to finish the song. Just like his Grandfather always would.

“ Duérmete mí niño, duérmete mí amor,

Duérmete pedazo de mí corazón.”

Once the lullaby had softly ended, Luis just stood there. Cradling Matteo in his arms silently. The only light source being from the small, glow-in-the-dark star stickers on the ceiling. Not a single creak could be heard, in sharp comparison to just a moment ago. The loudest noise in that room were Matteo’s tiny breaths.

Luis didn’t want to let go. Leon and Chris teased him about it all the time, but he truly, truly didn’t want to part with his beautiful boy. He didn’t want this moment to end. A moment that felt so precious and so loving that Luis knew he was bound to remember it for years to come.

Luis wanted to protect Matteo with his whole world- he knew it was unrealistic, and that eventually, his Son would grow up to be his very own person- but that didn’t mean the need wasn’t still there. Luis had seen things that no single human being should have ever experienced, and yet his own baby crying was somehow worse than all of that combined. He never wanted to see Matteo cry again. He wanted to hold him and kiss him and shelter him from anything that could ever hurt him.

Just like his Grandfather had for Luis all those years ago.

That was almost entirely the reason Luis had approached Leon and Chris about the idea of having a child in the first place;

He wanted to be just like his Grandfather.

It was strange. The older he got, the less he remembered of the man- yet the more he missed him like a child. Luis thought about him quite often. And even more so now that he was a father himself.

In retrospect, his Grandfather was hardly there in his life for a very long time. He was only ten- maybe twelve at the most- years old when he had died. Yet Luis remembered as clear as day the way his knees trembled and his fists balled up hard enough for his fingernails to be imprinted onto his palms when he watched his childhood home burst into flames. He stared at that fire until it was nothing but ashes in the morning, quite literally.

Luis had gone through all the stages of grief a million times over. He used to be mad at his Grandfather for hiding that wolf’s bite that inevitably lead him to becoming sick; he used to resent him, in fact, insisting that his work as a biologist would be enough to reprimand it.

Luis used to beg for his Grandfather to come back- and, hell, he still sometimes did. He still cried like the grief was fresh, and he still found constant solace and comfort in Leon and Chris’ arms.

Luis remembered nothing but good things about his Grandfather.

He remembered how the two of them would go fishing on warm afternoons.

How he’d make him tomato soup every night after dinner.

He remembered how wise and intricate his words seemed to seven-year-old-Luis, when in actuality, he was just speaking fancy English.

He remembered how his Grandfather still encouraged his Trans identity and love for Biology despite their circumstances.

He remembered how he’d encouraged Luis’ fantasies surrounding Don Quixote- how he’d recreate the fantastical scenes and read him every version of the books under the sun back-to-front just so he could fall asleep.

Hell, Luis still kept an old copy of Don Quixote in Matteo’s room just for good luck; him and his two partners had even agreed on the name for their baby after seeing the name ‘Matteo ’ in the credits of a Don Quixote adaptation and finding it stuck. Luis hoped someday he’d be able to read his favorite book ever to Teo and he’d enjoy just as much as he did.

When Luis said he wanted to be a father;

What he really meant was he wanted to be like his Grandfather.

He wanted to give that same undying love and affection to another person. He wanted to be his Son’s hero and somebody who could protect him from anything.

He wanted to be there for Matteo in a way his Grandfather never could before he died;

He wanted to watch Matteo grow up and live a full life.

Just like how his Grandfather always wanted.

Luis wanted to be there for Matteo right until the very end.

Luis wanted to be just like his Grandfather for Matteo. He wanted to make him proud.

“ Te quiero mucho, Teo. También habrías amado a mí Abuelo.”

Luis hadn't even noticed he’d begun crying, let alone the quiet footsteps from behind him until a small knock on the door allerted him to another presence in the room. He was forced out of his forehead-touching position with Matteo to look around and see Leon leaning against the doorframe; his appearance tired and disheveled with a soft smile still on his face.

“How’s Teo?”

“He’s good,” Luis smiled, whispering lightly.

“I just got him back to sleep.”

Leon made his way to Luis’ side and cupped his Son’s head with one hand, leaning down to press a gentle, cautious kiss on his head.

Luis’ eyes never broke away from Teo’s face, even as Leon leaned his head against his shoulder. The brunette reciprocated, feeling his partner let out a sigh of relief.

“Where’s Chris?”

Luis broke the silence, desperate for some conversation. He felt like he was about to burst into tears if he didn’t talk soon.

“He’s staying with the Winter’s tonight, remember?”

The brunette just hummed at Leon’s response. Ethan Winters; the name sounded familiar. He was pretty sure they were expecting a child soon, too. Chris seemed to be very protective over him; Which seemed deserved after what he heard they’d been through. Luis hoped he’d get to meet them someday.

Another beat of silence.

“…Luis?”

Leon finally spoke up, his voice soft; as if their tender moment was made of porcelain.

“…Are you Ok?”

“I’m fine.” Luis was quick to answer. Too quick. Leon gave him that look and his partner was forced to relent, shaking his head slightly with a small smile. If he wasn’t smiling, he’d probably be crying.

“I will be fine,”

Luis corrected himself. Leon always knew when something was up, and Luis didn’t have the heart (or the energy) to try to lie. He wore his heart on his sleeve in his old age.

“I’m just… I don’t know. Difícul de explicar. Words don’t seem to cut it.”

“I understand.” Was all Leon said in response, snuggling further into the crook of his neck as his hand remained on Teo’s head.

Luis was grateful Leon didn’t try to pry further.

The silence between them, however, was too much for Luis to bear. To keep himself from breaking down and potentially waking Matteo up, he gave his Son one last kiss on the forehead- letting it linger for a couple moments- before slipping him back into his cot and pulling the up blankets over him.

‘ Buenes noches, niño hermoso”

He whispered, running the pad of his thumb against his cheeks for a beat before he reluctantly pried himself away from his sleeping Son.

The second he turned around to face Leon, it was like all of the night's anxieties and grief caught up to him in an instant; his body suddenly felt like lead and his eyes stung with tears.

He could barely make out Leon’s expression in the darkness, but he knew from gut instinct alone that it was one of sympathy.

“ L-Leon…?”

Luis whimpered, his lips quivering as his eyes welled up.

“ D-Do you think my Grandfather w-would be proud of me…?”

Leon’s posture softened in an instant.

“ Oh, Luis…”

Luis couldn’t hold it together much longer; he collapsed into Leon’s arms in an instant, feeling awfully small and vulnerable as he cried silently into his partner's shoulder. He could hear Leon murmur some reassuring words from above him, but he couldn’t make them out; the blondes chin rested atop his head as his arms squeezed him tight, rocking Luis back-and-fourth in an attempt to soothe him.

Luis, ironically, felt a little bit like how Teo must’ve been feeling just a moment ago.

“You wanna know something, Luis?”

Leon finally said loud enough for him to hear, pulling away just slightly so he could cup Luis’ face in his hands; wiping away the tears from his cheeks.

“Your Grandfather would be so, so proud of you. I know that for a fact. He would be over the moon for you”

“B-but w-w-what if I’m n-not doing e-enough for T-Teo? I-I j-just w-wanna be like m-mí A-Abuelo..-“

“You’re doing more than enough, Luis. You’re going so above and beyond you have no idea. Listen to me,”

Leon grabbed his chin and forced him to make eye contact.

“You’re not alone. You understand? You have us. And if your Grandfather were still alive, he would be by your side and telling you what an incredible job you’re doing. You are the best Father, understood? Your Grandfather would be so proud of you.”

That was enough for Luis to break down into tired, open-mouthed sobs against Leon’s chest. The two of them had to return to their own bedroom to keep Matteo from waking up; But it was worth it.

Luis stayed curled up against Leon for the entire night, having his hair combed through by his partner's hands as he cried against his shirt.

Luis eventually fell asleep. And for the first time in quite a while, he actually had a decent night's sleep.

He had Leon. He had Chris, and he had Matteo.

He promised to himself that he would make his Grandfather proud.

He would be a good Father to Teo. He would do anything for his beautiful boy.

And nothing in the world could ever change that.

#ericswriting #serennedy week 2023 #serennedyweek2023 #serennedy week #serennedy #luis sera fanfic #luis serra fanfic #leon s kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy fanfic

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que-serra-serra · 9 months

Text

[Serennedy] Quality Time

Leon gets back from a mission and finds the night to be full of surprises. Rated Explicit | 5k words | ao3 link

Leon stared at the sight before him and considered whether he was more sleep-deprived than he'd initially thought.

After a week-long mission, coming home to his apartment in the middle of the night and quietly opening his bedroom door, he’d expected to see nothing but darkness or at most a reading lamp that was left on by mistake.

Not a naked Spaniard handcuffed to the headboard and sprawled out on Leon’s bed.

“Buenas noches, querido,” Luis said, a way too smug smile on his face considering the situation. “Would you like to join me?”

Leon kept staring. The clock radio did indeed blink 2:30 AM, and there was no explanation for how Luis had managed to either handcuff himself or even know Leon was coming home at this hour.

Luis’ smile faltered as he sat up straighter on the bed. “Mi vida?” he asked, voice lowering into something more gentle. “We don’t have to; I only wanted to surprise you.”

“You surprised me, all right.” Leon felt the corner of his mouth pulling up in a smile. “Please tell me those aren’t my STRATCOM-issued handcuffs.”

Luis laughed and immediately relaxed back against the bed. “What can I say?” He winked. “I do so enjoy defiling government property.”

Leon huffed a laugh even as he started shucking off his weapons and armor.

“Mm,” Luis commented, licking his lips. “Such a dangerous man here in my bedroom. What will you do to me, agent?”

"Depends," Leon said. "Are you gonna be good for me?"

Luis' eyes darkened with lust—Leon had set the tone for the evening, and Luis looked to be on board.

"There's little I wouldn't do for you, cariño,” Luis murmured.

Leon knew all too well how much he meant it.

As far as the rest of the world was concerned, Luis Serra Navarro had died three years ago, in a village in northern Spain amidst the chaos that had been caused by the parasite he'd helped to develop.

For much of the first year, Leon had thought the very same thing. He could barely even remember getting back to the States and being awarded medal upon medal for returning Ashley safe and sound. He and Ashley were only alive because of Luis’ kindness, and a part of Leon had died right alongside Luis in that mineshaft. He’d grieved for months, drowning himself in work and alcohol to dull the pain.

Until a mysterious figure had appeared in front of his apartment complex. And as Leon caught a glimpse of that infuriating smirk he never thought he’d get to see again as Luis told him “A little red-dressed birdie said to tell you 'You're welcome' and 'You owe me big time'," it was only years of training that allowed him to calmly invite the man up for coffee instead of breaking down cursing and yelling right there in the street.

Leon scarcely even cared what strings Ada had pulled to get Luis out alive and without any paper trail to boot. For the past two years, Ada would contact them whenever she wanted them for something—usually Luis' knowledge, but sometimes Leon's STRATCOM intel—and both of them knew not to ask for further details. Leon was still shackled to the US government but after Raccoon City and Project Javier, he didn't have any illusions that he was working for the good guys. Ada wasn't much better but at least she'd given Luis a chance at redemption and given the world a brilliant scientist in the fight against B.O.W.s.

But most importantly, she'd given Leon back one of the few people he'd ever called a friend.

“Dios mío, you are such a tease,” Luis complained. He was straining against his handcuffs while Leon stripped slowly, lost in his thoughts. “I'm starting to regret chaining myself to the bed.”

Well. A lot more than a friend, these days.

“Oh, really?” Leon said, finally stepping out of his underwear. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice about touching my stuff.”

"Come here and touch my stuff and I may consider it," Luis shot back.

Leon rolled his eyes but crawled into bed to straddle Luis nonetheless, hips hovering over Luis' abdomen.

"Mm, now that is a lovely view," Luis teased, staring up at Leon with a cocky smile.

But after all this time, Luis no longer bothered to hide the pure adoration in his eyes and Leon no longer pretended that it didn’t make him want to kiss Luis every time he saw it.

And that was what he did even now, leaning down to claim warm lips in a steady kiss, not missing the way Luis eagerly tilted his head up to meet him halfway.

Leon’s fingers brushed through the silky soft strands of Luis’ hair. His hair had grown long in his self-inflicted exile in Leon’s apartment, and after one time when Leon had heard him grumbling that he’d chop it off with kitchen scissors, Leon had yanked Luis' head back by his hair and kissed him and kissed him until Luis got the memo and laughed, “Alright, alright, mi amor, the hair can stay.”

These days, Luis mostly kept his hair in a low ponytail or haphazard bun, especially when he worked: usually compiling his knowledge about parasites and dirt on Umbrella and leaking the documents anonymously online. Most evenings, Luis would sit by his desk and chew on the butt of a pen, loose strands of hair escaping the hairband and falling into his face while he ruminated on problems way beyond Leon's understanding.

Leon may or may not have interrupted numerous important research sessions by grabbing Luis’ pretty hair and guiding his head down to wrap that smart mouth around something much bigger than a pen. Coincidentally, those were some of the few times Luis agreed to take a break, so Leon saw it as a win-win.

This time, however, Luis’ hair was loose, and during the kiss Leon's fingers mapped out how the dark brown waves cascaded over Luis' naked shoulders.

Leon was already half-hard by the time he pulled away from the kiss. Luis leaned forward to chase after his lips, only to be stopped by his restraints.

"Not fair," Luis huffed, glaring at the handcuffs fastened over his head.

“You really didn’t think this through, did you?” Leon asked.

“I didn’t know it would be a three-hour event!” Luis said.

“Hmm,” Leon said, then thrust his hips forward so his hardening dick slid against Luis’ chest to get some friction. “I was thinking four hours.”

“Mierda,” Luis cursed, tugging on the handcuffs as he watched Leon’s erection slide between his pecs. “I forget what a demon you can be.”

Leon hummed and kept leisurely grinding against Luis’ chest, easily working himself to full hardness. His tip was already starting to leak and smeared pre-cum into Luis’ chest hair in filthy trails.

Luis groaned and arched into him, making Leon’s cock accidentally slide over his nipple. When that only made Luis moan louder, Leon did it again, this time deliberately.

“Oh, querido,” Luis murmured as Leon's wet cock toyed with his nipple. “Fuck me.”

“No,” Leon said.

Luis whined yet his hips shamelessly kicked up off the bed, betraying just how much he enjoyed the denial.

Leon loved when Luis got like this. The first few times a then-vanilla Leon had been asked to push Luis around in bed, the nights had mostly ended in both of them snickering at his terrible attempts at dirty talk or the spanking that wouldn't even hurt a fly. But after some time—and more than a few demonstrations from Luis—Leon realized that praise worked just as well as degradation and the promise of pleasure was often much more effective than the threat of pain.

Now they were at a stage where a tumble in the sheets could range from either of them getting roughly fucked against the nearest surface to simply laying back and getting pampered with sweet words and gentle touches. But after two weeks away from Luis on a shitty mission, Leon couldn't deny that this was exactly what he'd needed; he couldn't control where he was sent, how long he was gone, or even working for the damn government in the first place.

But here and now, he had full control of Luis' pleasure, and it was an intoxicating feeling.

“I wanna ride you,” Leon decided.

Luis cursed under his breath and his head fell back, thudding against the headboard. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“Not interested in getting you killed again,” Leon said before he thought better of it.

Luis’ face softened. “Mi corazon, we have been over this. It wasn’t your fault.”

Leon bit back an argument. They’d never agree on where the blame should be placed for that fateful day of Luis’ near-death. Leon didn’t think his guilt would ever truly disappear for having left an unconscious but not dead Luis in that horrible place, but at least he could make sure Luis never had to go through anything like that again.

“I'm just glad you're here,” Leon settled on. He leaned in for a kiss and cradled Luis’ head, fingers brushing gently through his long hair.

Luis moaned into it and sweetly kissed back, caressing Leon’s lips with his own and coaxing Leon’s tongue out to play. Arousal pooled heavy in Leon’s gut and he slipped his tongue between pliant lips, Luis making a deep sound of pleasure that shot straight to Leon's cock.

Luis wasn't the only one getting impatient.

Eager to move things along, Leon pulled away from the kiss and reached for the bedside table, only to notice that their favorite lube had already been conveniently placed on top of it. He cast Luis a pointed look and was met with a leer and Luis wagging his eyebrows.

Leon snorted. “Whore.”

“Ha!” Luis barked out a laugh. “Guilty as charged.”

Leon got back into position straddling Luis, lube now in hand. He squirted some on his fingers and unceremoniously reached behind himself, shoving a finger into his ass and grimacing at the feeling of wet and cold that came with room-temperature lube.

“Mmh, let me see,” Luis said, craning his neck to try to look around Leon.

Leon smiled faux-sweetly as he pushed in another finger. “No.”

Luis groaned, likely in frustration as much as arousal. He whimpered when Leon started moving his fingers, the wet squelch audible in their small bedroom.

“Please,” Luis said. “At least let me help.”

Leon shot an unimpressed stare at Luis’ restrained wrists.

“Yes, but…” Luis’ brow furrowed, before he perked up. “I still have a perfectly good tongue.” Luis winked and licked his lips and Leon’s fingers stuttered inside his own body.

He could vividly remember the times he'd gotten intimately acquaintanced with Luis’ tongue: either Luis quietly murmuring that he’d take care of him while kissing and licking at Leon's most intimate spots, or those other times, with Luis beautifully pliant under him as Leon held him down until Luis was practically sobbing, begging Leon to sit on his face—

Leon cleared his throat. “Another time.”

“Joder, at least give me a taste,” Luis pleaded. “Leonito is looking awfully neglected. You can multitask, can’t you, mi príncipe?”

Leon’s slightly flagging dick twitched in interest. “Fine.”

He shuffled closer until he was kneeling in front of Luis' face, cock jutting out towards his mouth. Luis craned his neck and pushed forward as much as his restraints allowed, moaning shamelessly once Leon fed him the tip of his cock.

Luis immediately started bobbing up and down the shaft, but Leon's hand tightened in his hair and pulled him off.

"Stop," Leon said as Luis whined in protest. "Stay still."

Luis visibly swallowed before nodding. He opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, hungry eyes never leaving Leon’s cock.

Leon didn’t even try to resist the temptation. He held Luis’ head steady by the roots of his hair and thrust his hips forward, deliberately missing his mark and sliding the head of his cock over Luis’ cheek to smear pre-cum on the skin.

Luis moaned but didn't move, just like Leon had ordered. That kind of obedience deserved a reward.

Leon’s thrust into the welcoming mouth was accompanied by a deep groan from Luis. He tightened his lips around Leon’s shaft and teased the underside with his tongue, making Leon forget himself and make a couple aborted thrusts into that incredible feeling of wet, tight and warm.

"Fuck, your mouth," Leon cursed.

Luis whimpered, his eyes having slipped shut as he eagerly sucked down Leon's cock in time with his thrusts, and Leon only then remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He shoved two still-slick fingers back inside his hole, a surprised moan falling from his lips at how much better it felt with Luis’ mouth pleasuring him at the same time.

Leon kept going at his leisure, shallowly fucking Luis' mouth with one hand gripping his hair and the other steadily pumping two fingers into himself. Every few thrusts, the head of his dick would slip out and smear more pre-cum over those pretty lips, making Luis' flushed face even more of a mess.

"Good job," Leon encouraged, angling his dick back inside Luis' mouth and finally pushing deep. "Now take it all."

Luis whined brokenly, throat working as he fought his gag reflex, then moaned and swallowed around Leon's cock as he got used to the feeling.

Once he was satisfied with Luis' efforts, Leon pulled out of his mouth and reached behind himself to grab Luis' cock, thrilled to notice it hard and leaking without even having been touched. Luis whimpered as Leon roughly stroked up and down to spread lube and pre-cum down the shaft, and then Leon was moving down Luis' body to hover over his cock.

Luis was already panting, his skin flushed from his ears all the way down to his chest and only highlighting the slick mess Leon's cock had made on him. When Leon didn't immediately move, Luis bit his lip and looked up at him with pleading eyes, hips canting up towards Leon's ass.

“Oh? Did you want this?” Leon asked. He sank down just the tiniest amount, making Luis' cock slide along his crack and catch on the rim of his loosened hole.

"Yes," Luis moaned. "Yes, Leon…!"

Leon lifted off again. "Then beg for it."

"Mi amor, mi vida, por favor," Luis babbled desperately. "I need to feel you, I missed you so much—please, please sit on my cock!"

Leon's dick twitched at seeing Luis so desperate, arousal curling dark and heavy between his legs.

"Well, since you asked so nicely…" Leon said, then slid down on Luis’ cock in one smooth motion.

Leon grunted at the stretch and Luis moaned, unrestrained and open-mouthed. Luis' entire body trembled and his hands clenched into fists in the cuffs yet he stayed so very still, not fucking into Leon without permission.

"That's it," Leon murmured, quickly adjusting to the familiar feeling of Luis inside him. "Stay right there, and I'll make it good for you."

Luis' eyes slipped shut and something in his body gave, relaxing under Leon and in his restraints.

Leon rewarded him by starting to move, setting a slow pace that dragged Luis' cock deep, small surges of pleasure licking up his spine at every delicious slide in.

Luis was warm and solid underneath him, completely silent save for his heavy breaths. There weren't a lot of things that could make Luis' perpetually yapping mouth shut up, but the endorphin rush of being completely at Leon's mercy often seemed to do the trick.

When Leon dropped down hard on his cock, Luis' eyes shot back open, looking up at Leon desperately.

"M-mi amor," Luis said brokenly.

"You're doing great," Leon reassured, stroking Luis' cheek. "You feel so good. Stay just like that."

Luis exhaled shakily and his eyes fluttered back close.

His body properly adjusted to Luis' size, Leon decided to start riding him in earnest. He leaned back and braced his hands on Luis's thighs, settling into a quick and shallow rhythm of fucking himself down on Luis' cock.

"God—fuck, you're so good," Leon panted.

Luis let out a quiet sob, wetness pricking in the corner of his eye as Leon went completely at his own pace, using Luis to pleasure himself.

"You feel perfect, you're…shit," Leon gasped, throwing his head back and he grinded Luis' cockead against his prostate. "Such a good boy."

“Yes, yes, yours,” Luis sobbed, his head lolling back against the headboard. “Your good boy.”

“Damn right you are,” Leon said, a half-smile twitching on his face before he sank fully down on Luis’ cock and his face went slack with pleasure, feeling Luis so deep inside. His nails dug into Luis' thighs as he practically growled, "Mine."

Luis made a broken sound pulled right from his very soul, shooting straight to Leon’s dick.

“Please,” Luis begged, hands balling into fists in the handcuffs when Leon wasn’t moving. “I’m so close.”

“No,” Leon said, making Luis moan as his cock twitched and swelled even more inside of Leon. “You’re not allowed to come until I say so. I'm gonna ride you and make myself come on your cock, and you're gonna lie there and take it like a good boy. Got it?”

"Yes, yes!" Luis said, body thrashing in his restraints. “Ah, mi amor—ride me, please, use me!”

Leon shuddered in arousal from the unashamed desperation in Luis’ words and body. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to keep denying them both; he already felt like he was teetering on the edge and only seconds away from coming, even though they’d barely gotten started.

“I will, don’t worry. I know you'll feel amazing,” Leon promised.

He lifted himself up and picked up a quick and rough pace of bouncing on Luis’ cock, Luis moaning loudly under him.

“Shit, Luis, you’re so good for me,” Leon said, working his body up and down. “A good boy with a perfect cock.”

Luis sobbed and feebly tried to meet Leon’s thrusts. “Harder, Leon, por favor!”

“Okay,” Leon said, and he could almost see the surprise on Luis’ face before it was replaced by slack-jawed pleasure, Leon fucking himself harder and faster onto Luis’ cock.

“Yes!” Luis practically screamed. “Oh, Leon…cariño, you’re so—so wonderful, so beautiful, so…” Luis trailed off in a groan, biting his lip as his eyes squeezed shut.

Leon knew that telltale sign of Luis’ impending orgasm and came to a full stop right away.

“No, no, no…!” Luis wailed. “Why!?”

“Told you,” Leon said smugly. “You’re not allowed to come yet.”

Luis groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, flopping his head back dramatically. “You are evil.”

“That’s not very nice,” Leon said, starting a languid pace of grinding down on Luis’ cock. “Is that any way to treat a guy you’re balls-deep inside?”

“That depends,” Luis said, half-glaring at Leon. "Are you actually going to ride me now, or just keep going like an abuela in her rocking chair?"

Leon huffed. "Last time I checked, you had no say in that matter."

And that was when Leon heard the clank before firm hands grabbed him by the hips.

“What the—” Leon had time to say before he was lifted and fucked up into hard, a groan punching out of him.

“You were saying?” Luis smiled up at him and then thrust again, making Leon’s nerves sing from pleasure.

Leon looked down and indeed saw Luis’ hands gripping his hips, with dark red marks around one wrist and the handcuffs dangling from the other.

“You—” Leon gasped at the rough pace Luis set with his newly acquired leverage. “You asshole, I thought you were supposed to be helpless!”

Luis smirked devilishly and paused enough to grind his cock against Leon's prostate, making him choke on a moan.

"You didn't even check the locks before letting your guard down,” Luis said. “Getting sloppy, agent."

“Fuck,” Leon moaned at another thrust, “you.”

“I offered, but you said no.” Luis grinned. “Come on, cowboy. Ride me like you mean it.”

Leon glared and had half a mind to protest just because Luis was being a brat: he could easily overpower Luis and cuff him back to the bed. But Leon's dick was aching and his body was alight with pleasure from Luis fucking up into him, and he really just wanted to come already.

“Then buckle up, fucker,” Leon spat. He raised himself up and let gravity do the rest, sinking down on Luis’ cock just as Luis thrust into him, making both of them moan.

They quickly found a rhythm; Leon riding Luis for all he was worth and Luis bucking up to meet him, driving his cock deep inside Leon and pushing them both closer and closer to the finish line.

Leon was too far gone to care about the noises he was making, moaning loud every time their hips met. His thighs burned with the effort and a thin layer of sweat coated both of their bodies, the obscene slap of skin against skin echoing in their bedroom.

“Oh, fuck,” Leon grit out as the pleasure inside him coiled tight. “I’m close.”

“Yes,” Luis groaned, his grip tightening on Leon’s hips. “I want to see, want to make you come—mmh, mi amor, let me see you come!"

Leon groaned and dropped his hand to tug on his cock, barely getting in two pumps of his fist before his body exploded with pleasure. His cock pulsed and shot ropes of white over Luis’ stomach and chest, his ass rippling around Luis’ cock still pistoning in and out. For a few precious seconds, Leon's mind whited out in pure bliss.

When Leon came down from his orgasm and back to reality, he was seated balls-deep on Luis' still-hard cock. Luis was cursing and begging in a mix and Spanish and English, not able to fuck into Leon with him being dead weight on top of him.

“Mi vida, mi sol, Leon, por favor! Please, I’m right there!” Luis pleaded.

He always did beg so beautifully.

"C'mon," Leon urged, lifting his hips to allow Luis to keep fucking into his spent hole. He grabbed a handful of Luis' now-sticky chest hair to steady himself. "Give it to me."

"Fuck," Luis sobbed, his thrusts into Leon's body erratic as he chased his orgasm. "Leon…!"

Luis made such a pretty sight: sweaty and trembling from how close he was to coming, his long hair a halo around his flushed face from where he'd slid down onto his back after the handcuffs were removed.

"You've been so good," Leon murmured, his voice low and sated from his own orgasm. "So, so good. I want you to come for me. Can you do that, Luis?"

Luis exhaled hard and nodded fervently, cock pounding into Leon at a fast and rough pace.

“Yeah, I know you can." Leon smiled. “Now be a good boy and come inside me.”

That seemed to do the trick. Luis's hips stuttered and threw his head back with a broken wail, cock pulsing and emptying inside Leon as he finally found his release.

It was one of the hottest things Leon had ever seen. Despite just having come and his body tingling with oversensitivity, Leon's spent dick twitched happily at the sight of Luis' orgasm.

"Dios mío," Luis panted once his dick was done pumping its release inside Leon. "One of these days, you will actually give me a heart attack from sex."

Leon huffed. "Then maybe don't handcuff yourself to the bed next time."

Luis sighed and laid his head back against the sheets, a satisfied smile on his face. "I regret nothing."

Leon smiled and rolled his eyes, settling in for the afterglow. He could feel Luis’ cock softening inside him but he wasn’t about to move—he always liked when they were joined as long as possible.

Leon's hands ran down Luis' come-streaked torso possessively. Luis wasn't as firm as he used to be—not being able to leave the small apartment without a heavy disguise and triple-checking that nobody was watching would do that to a man—though Leon suspected Luis used some of his weights for vanity reasons. At least to the extent that his old injuries allowed; you don't take a dagger to the lung and keep your full athletic prowess.

Leon didn't care if Luis was muscular or not. The fact that Luis no longer had to run for his life on the daily was a definite plus, and the softening lines around his waist spoke of the new cooking hobby he'd picked up: mostly because he didn't approve of Leon's diet that consisted solely of ready-meals and protein powder, because "Mierda, Leon, my abuelo will come to haunt me if I don't feed you real food."

Home-cooked meals had helped Leon put on more muscle, while it had maybe made Luis a little softer around the edges. Leon might be a little obsessed with coming home to find Luis puttering by the stove, making some dish that Leon always fucked up the pronunciation of, cursing at the lackluster American ingredients and sometimes even wearing an apron and looking like…like a kept man—

"Marry me," Leon said and promptly nearly threw himself off the bed in mortification. He had not meant to say that out loud!

Luis just chuckled. "Ah yes, let me simply rise from the dead, make same-sex marriage legal in this state, and then call your boss, the president, to ask for his blessing." He smirked up at Leon. "My dick scrambled your brain good, hm, querido?" Luis asked, like they were simply sharing a joke and not deciding the future of their entire relationship.

Leon's ears were flaming red. He'd thought about this for quite some time, but this definitely wasn't the best time to be having that conversation, with Luis' deflating prick still lodged in Leon's ass and his come drying in Luis' chest hair. But Luis seemed to think this was only the post-nut euphoria speaking, and that was just flat-out wrong.

“I mean it,” Leon said, making Luis tilt his head quizzically. “It's just…I don't know how to explain it.” He sighed in annoyance at his shitty communication skills; he really should have prepared some kind of speech for this. “I hate being away on missions and not knowing when I'll be coming home.”

Luis smiled. “Oh, mi corazon. You may be a prince, but I am not a helpless princess—no matter how much you insist on me growing hair like Rapunzel," Luis said, making Leon huff a surprised laugh. "As much as I enjoy our time together, if you were here all the time, I doubt I would get anything done.“

Leon sighed. “That's not what I meant."

No matter how much he loved Luis, sharing an apartment this small 24/7 would probably make them both go stir-crazy. At their core they were both independent people and though neither of their lives were currently ideal—with the whole "Luis being legally dead" and "Leon being blackmailed into his job" thing—they still made it work.

Hopefully they could make this work too.

“I want a promise," Leon tried again. "Something to remind us that no matter what happens, I'll always come home to you. And I can just…touch the ring and know I have something to look forward to, and—and you can see yours throughout the day and always remember that I…" Leon swallowed and forced himself to go on. “That I'm yours. And you’re mine. I, uh, I mean if you want to.”

Leon cringed at his clumsy speech. But before he could apologize, Luis' expression softened and his warm hand came up to cup Leon's cheek. Leon had trashy mission stubble and probably looked like death, but Luis still looked at him like he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

“You are mi vida—my life,'' Luis murmured. “I have been yours from the day we met. Though our friend was the one who brought me back from the brink of death, you are the one who saved me from myself.”

Leon swallowed the mess of emotions bubbling up in his throat. If he was less emotionally constipated from all the shit in his past, he'd probably be crying.

Luis, however, had no such issues even despite his traumatic past, and was laughing a wet laugh as the hint of tears shimmered in his eyes.

“Look at me, blubbering like a fool,” Luis chuckled. “I must be getting emotional in my old age.”

Leon smiled and leaned in for a kiss, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Luis' ear. “Not old,” he murmured. “And that's my fool you're talking about.”

“Ah, cariño.” Luis' smile was wobbly and his voice thick with emotion. “I don't know how you always manage to make me swoon with such simple words.”

“It's because I love you,” Leon said, kissing Luis' cheek, then the corner of his wet eye. “And I'll always love you. You're it for me, Luis.”

The sob finally broke free from Luis' throat and then Leon was being shoved backwards, crashing against the soft mattress and a very clingy, silently crying Spaniard pressing close and kissing him all over, murmuring disbelieving ”estupido, idiota” in between the fond ”mi sol, mi vida, mi precioso.”

Leon smiled and relaxed into the embrace, brushing his fingers through the now-messy and slightly sweaty hair of the man he loved.

He knew that they wouldn't be able to make it official and that a ring would be too inconspicuous in his line of work. But the only two people who needed to know the extent of their promise were in this room, and Leon had never been one for bureaucracy anyway. They could get tattoos or even pick simple keychains for each other—the specifics hardly mattered.

All that mattered was that they were both just as eager to spend the rest of their lives together.

#serennedy #luis serra #leon kennedy #re4make #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil #que fic

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unprocione · 11 months

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➤ * 𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗘 ( @emile8 ) 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑎 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑡 ❝ 𝗛𝗢𝗠𝗘. ❞

✦ WHAT MAKES A HOME? A home is a place of refuge. A person’s most personal belongings are kept in a home, and it’s where a person feels safe and accepted. A home tells a story and expresses a person or family’s interests. To create a home requires an emotional connection and sense of belonging, not physical things. A house can be a home but a home can’t be a house. You can live in a house that doesn’t feel like a home. Or you can find “home” in a house that isn’t yours because home isn’t a physical construct, it’s a feeling. To be a home, it needs to feel comfortable, like a place you belong to and are at peace with. A house may be decorated with the nicest furnishings money can buy, but that won’t necessarily make it a home. The feeling of “home” can’t be bought. It’s an intimate relationship we have with the personal space we live in. A home reflects who we are, our personality, and how we choose to live our lives.

* while i know the above pictures from resident evil: damnation are likely of a hotel room, based on the construction & context, i'm choosing to think of this as leon's bedroom on purpose for personal characterization.

✦ WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO LIVE IN A ❝ SPARTAN ❞ LIFESTYLE? A spartan lifestyle or existence is very simple or strict, with the minimum of luxuries. Living a spartan lifestyle means embracing simplicity and self-discipline, and focusing on developing physical and mental strength, buying and using only what is needed to accomplish your task. No spare rooms, no extra cars, no fancy meals, no desserts, no frills. Additionally, it is important to remember that living a Spartan lifestyle does not mean living a life of poverty or deprivation, but rather one of simplicity and self-discipline. The lifestyle is very basic because all efforts are devoted to the military and to the state.

Simplify your possessions and living space. Get rid of anything you don't truly need and focus on keeping only the essentials.

Embrace physical fitness and challenge yourself to push your limits through regular exercise and training.

Practice self-discipline and self-control by setting rules and boundaries for yourself, and holding yourself accountable to them.

✦ WHAT DOES MINIMALISM SAY ABOUT YOU? A minimalist person is someone who has a simple, uncluttered lifestyle, someone who seeks simplicity, usefulness and clarity. They don't believe in owning things for the sake of owning things — they only keep what is truly important to them. Minimalists are often very organized and efficient and find satisfaction in pursuing meaningful relationships and activities. They pursue a lifestyle that focuses less on material possessions and more on what they value in life – what makes them happy.

✦ PERSONAL TOUCHES.

* framed photographs of dear friends & loved ones. pictured: claire redfield, ada wong, patrick devlin, ashley graham, helena harper. not pictured: jack krauser (frame is facedown), manuela hidalgo, sherry birkin, ingrid hunnigan, & luis sera.

* an unknown monstera, a pilea peperomioides, and a peace lily.

✦ PLACES OF INTEREST.

* weaponry workbench, vinyl record player, kitchen w/ cookbook storage, bedroom barcart, leon's weapons locker, & external home gym.

✦ HEADCANONS.

leon resides on a private and rural property in maryland, a good distance away from the city.

leon's residence is more house than home, more of a place to sleep than a place to rest. he's more at home in a familiar chain hotel than anywhere else, preferring to vacation over spending time in his empty house.

leon's absolutely pathetic at home maintenance, preferring to call in plumbers or electricians as needed, but he's also an absolute clean freak, the place is spotless, like scrubbing tile grout with a toothbrush on his hands and knees spotless.

prior to the disassembly of the anti-umbrella pursuit & investigation taskforce, leon & bruce mcgivern were bunkmates, both living in a barracks building provided by the organization.

leon prefers to live remotely, having become somewhat of a recluse, his home sheltered away from main roads & prying eyes by acres of forest.

leon has two locks on his bedroom door, and doesn't sleep with a sound machine, both in case of any scenarios involving possible intruders. the glass in his windows is also bulletproof, for the same rightfully paranoid reasoning.

leon doesn't get delivery. he doesn't get takeout. he doesn't do fast food at all whenever he has other options. leon grew up in a home where more often than not they had fast food for dinner as both parents worked and it was cheap and easy, and now that he has a home of his own, he prefers to cook for himself at every chance, mealpreps, and experiment with recipes when he has time. his tupperware collection is impressive. he would probably marry his air fryer if he could legally. leon kennedy, disgusted by a cheap hamburger to the point of nausea, but says he could really go for a steak right now when confronted with a rotten bovine carcass.

leon's first houseplant was his monstera, purchased after the events of resident evil: damnation, which he keeps by his bedside window. leon's second houseplant was his pilea peperomioides, purchased after the events of resident evil: six. leon's most recent houseplant is his peace lily, purchased after resident evil: vendetta. leon keeps all three of his plants in his bedroom.

the interior of leon's home is sparsely decorated, with very few personal touches, such as the vinyl record player, his plants, cookbooks, and photographs of his loved ones.

leon has a collection of cookbooks, some of which are in different languages.

leon's sink stays crowded with hair care products.

leon never really unpacks when he’s home, and it shows in the meticulous magazine perfection of everything. he spends more time in hotels than he ever does at his own home. leon is out of touch with civilian life, he’s never too comfortable, constantly on guard in the silence of his own empty house, unable to shut his mind off due to his post traumatic stress disorder, and so he doesn’t nest, so to speak.

leon is at his most comfortable at home while in the dark, with a bag of popcorn and a stack of movies to binge his way through.

leon keeps a ducati xdiavel & a white ford crown victoria in his garage. he added a gunsmith's workbench / armorer's bench to his garage during his furlough in 2009 while working on the design & construction of the sentinel 9 handgun.

leon prefers to sleep a thin, fleece blanket, and that’s it, a higher than average body temperature keeping him warm throughout the night. when the bed is made properly, it’s made with duvets and multiple pillows and quilts, and it’s all entirely for show, in a bedroom emulating normalcy ripped straight from a catalogue.

leon cleans out his refrigerator as soon as he hears that he has another assignment to tend to, to prevent spoilage while he’s away (he has a very sensitive sense of smell), so when he comes back, he immediately hits the grocery store on the way, no matter how tired he is. he definitely tries to carry his bags all at once.

leon doesn't have expensive taste, not even in alcohol. all of his belongings and furniture are of good quality, but not by any means designer or luxury items.

#» 🕊️ ﹕ the means only justify the ends. (study.) ❧#» 🕊️ ﹕ to protect ， to serve ，‘til death do us part. (headcanon.) ❧#thank u for sending this in emile!! :)#god i love leon. i know people have tried to help him decorate his house before and his reply is always 'but i don't really /need/ that...'#it's not about need my guy!! you're giving serial killer energy!!

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languidangel · 7 months

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Ohmygod ohmygod. I'm so sleep deprived but I called out of work so it's fine. I kinda did a quick as fuck playthrough (took me six hours with the breaks I took because I'm bad at videogames) and I have some thoughts SEPARATE WAYS SPOILERS AHEAD:

I didn't think they would retcon Ada saving Luis, it was more so something I just really HOPED would happen but the fact she was RIGHT THERE and still went after Krauser? In character but disappointing. I guess her character arc is a slower one. Although maybe she just assumed that what Luis said was true or Leon could help him idk.

WESKER AND ADA OHMYGOD?!? I SAID THEY WERE FUCKING AS A JOKE BUT CAPCOM SAID BET! THEYRE FUCKING FUCKINH OHMYGOD?!?!?!

Whatever shit with the one thing (I think U3 in the original but I'm not sure if it was given a different name here) was...somewhat anticlimactic. I can see the different strain not needing radiation to kill it but I think it would have been more interesting if Ada coughed it up way later in the game.

No Wesker OR Krauser boss fight wtf.

WHAT THE FUCK WAS WITH WESKER JUST SITTING OUT ON A BOAT AND MAKING ADA DO EVERYTHING?!?! JUST TO SHOW UP SOMETIMES WITH A GUN LIKE "hey wifey :3 btw if you don't get my amber I'll shoot you" ??????

No Ada background story :(

The jacket bit was kinda cute. But also?!? Why does the merchant need it???? Hello??? I guess it probably is expensive lol. Poor Leon.

THE LUIS AND ADA DANCE SCENE HOLY SHIT I ALMOST FORGOT LUIS FLIRTED SO MUCH. THE MOST BISEXUAL MAN EVER OML. Anyways...AND THE TIED UP LINE????? I LOVE THEM TOGETHER ACTUALLY THEYRE SO CUTE!!!

I think people have already mentioned this but Krauser??? Is here??? Why???? How the fuck did he even hear about Los Illuminados? He's (supposedly) not working for Wesker????

"fly, my pretty" ADA I WILL BE SUCH A GOOD SPOUSE, YOU ARE SO ADORABLE EVEN IF YOURE A LITTLE MORALLY BANKRUPT BUT LISTEN OKAY

God and her fucking melee moves, she serves cunt this entire DLC.

Okay now for the bit that will make people mad. I'm SO SO happy with how they changed Ada/Leon's relationship. I actually really disliked aeon and somehow them having what feels like a more natural relationship given Racoon City...made me actually consider that ship. Like I actually felt the weird sort of longing that they both had for each other that I didn't enjoy in 4 original or 6 (omg 6, that needs its own rant post) Ada is clearly still attracted to him but she has to be forced to see him having gotten over her, at least to whatever degree Leon can get over anything, especially seeing him with Ashley. Ohmygod. There's a lot of subtext I'm reading into but her watching them after she wakes up on the cot, I could feel the conflicting emotions there even though Ada didn't say shit about it, because she wouldn't.

How DARE you make me fight more regeneradors Capcom

I wanted more Ash/Ada interactions and the one we got was okay but I feel like with how little Ashley actually saw Ada, a lot of her questions to Leon don't...super make sense?

Anyways I will be playing it again sometime, it was really good. I definitely missed some things.

#revr spoilers #separate ways spoilers

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sarahs-secrets2 · 10 months

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hi, all my In Your Wildest Dreams lovers I have a question!!!

so i got an anon about adding in other re characters to the story and i've thought about ways i could incorporate a few of them! i don't want to make it like im just adding them for no reason but i think having the "other" LI a re character would be fun!

i know i had it as "lord thompson" which was purely bc I was sleep deprived and picked a random last name

soooo if you guys have a preference as to who it is (luis, chris, etc) lmk! whoever seems the most popular or whoever i pick I'll go back and edit chapter 2 to fit!

#sarah’s secrets 2

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theartistknownaslymond · 1 year

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Whumptober 2022 day 29

Still hanging on, still determined to finish the list!!

Sleep Deprivation | Defiance | “Better me than you.”

As per @stripedroseandsketchpads These all feel intensely Francis but idk how exactly

They do and they are. I’m not sure this fic actually hits any of them directly, but I have confirmed with @erinaceina that these prompts are all bang on for the vibes of this particular scene. It’s Checkmate, Francis thinks Sybilla and Richard have drowned - then he thinks just Richard has. Sybilla just wants to know why he won’t come home.

It’s a bit of a direct scene re-write - the dialogue follows fairly closely to Dorothy. But I tried to give it as much of my own twist as possible. Not much in the way of CW, but Francis is tired and has been drinking, there’s reference to the ferry disaster, he thinks he’s lost his closest family and he’s got a pretty awkward relationship with them rn. Francis also has a bit of suicidal longing in the background, and some dissociation going on. Big emotional whump, rather than physical - that’s the intention, anyway.

---

The sky was still dark when Archie pulled up at the cordon. The world seemed upside down, lit from below by the flashing blue lights of emergency vehicles, by the torches held by gendarmes over rain-smudged passenger lists, by the brake lights of the cars of relatives parked higgledy-piggledy around as they tried to learn what had happened to their loved ones.

Archie tried to hand him an umbrella but Francis was already out of the door, not moving quickly, but with a steady, intractable purpose. He seemed to watch himself open the car door as though from the other side of a piece of foggy glass - like his life was continuing within a terrarium and he was standing, sleep-starved and numb, on the outside. Not even the heavy rain that began to soak his t-shirt seemed to really reach him as he strode towards the nearest gendarme.

He was recognised - the man's look of harassed concern flickered, and he smiled at the rock star Lymond, like this celebrity appearance had been just the relief he needed from his miserable work. No doubt he was familiar with Lymond's recent charitable exercises, and he suggested, "You're here to help with the handing out of the blankets, Monsieur?" He gestured towards a van with its back doors open, where a group of volunteers were marshalling blankets, umbrellas, warm drinks and food for anyone who didn't need to be bundled away to hospital immediately.

"Ah, non," Francis hesitated, hoping to recognise any of the huddled figures standing under huge golf umbrellas and sipping from steaming polystyrene cups. "J'ai...j'ai eu du famille à bord de lui. Je...je ne sais pas..."

He was surprised at how calm his voice sounded - like a recording, almost disinterested. But the gendarme blanched.

"Euh, mon dieu." The hand holding the pen above the clipboard flinched, as thought his reflex was to make the sign of the cross. He wiped futilely at the rain on his brow and straightened his shoulders in a belated aspect of professionalism. "Nom et prénom?"

Francis spoke the names of his mother and brother with robotic clarity, and watched the young officer grimace as he tried to peel apart the sheets of paper he held. They were turning to papier-mâché before their eyes, tearing in sad wadges of ink and wood pulp as the gendarme's wet fingers fumbled with them.

He tried to shake them apart and succeeded only in tearing the bottom clean off a number of sheets. He muttered a curse and poked at the part of the list he'd uncovered, and then looked up at Francis with round, excited eyes.

"Madame Semple? Elle vive!"

He could not find Richard's name, but Sybilla - Sybilla was alive. Francis swayed under the pressure of the rain and gasped. He felt like he'd taken a blow to the chest, or like a fault had opened down his sternum and the news of Sybilla's survival was pulling him apart in one direction as the absence of Richard wrenched him open in another. He managed, breathlessly, to thank the man and then turned to find Archie.

After stumbling through the the rain aimlessly for what seemed like an unforgivably long time, Francis finally discovered his friend - he was handing out blankets and hot chocolate, and he didn't hesitate to force a cup of the latter into Francis' freezing hands.

"She's at the hospital..." was all he could mumble in return, his lips numb, his stomach clenching rebelliously at the thought of sustenance of any kind.

Archie guided him back to the car. He leaned over and pulled Francis' seat belt across his chest, even as Francis sat there clutching the scalding hot cup of chocolate and rainwater, his blond curls dripping into it with each shiver of his body. Archie drove them safely but with efficiency to the hospital building and trusted Francis to make his own way from the drop-off point while he parked up.

No other friend would have shown such faith in him then, and Francis was relieved to be able to avoid the negotiations another might have insisted upon. He dropped the untouched cup of chocolate into a bin and walked to the desk.

The receptionist stared at him as though he'd crawled from the Channel himself, but she apologised and said that Mme. Semple had been discharged and had gone to her hotel.

There were only so many options, but Francis' first guess was correct. He knew her tastes and her budget, he knew something of her memories for the career she'd had, and Archie helped him make it to her room when dawn was still yet to break.

He'd supposed that she would be resting, but the concierge was adamant that she had just called for coffee to be brought up to her and that she would welcome a visit from her dear son.

Her only son, Francis thought, standing outside the door to her suite. Her only child. Eloise had dissipated into a winter's night and now Richard had been snatched by the storm. And no matter how he'd tried, how near he'd come and how many maelstroms he'd been drawn into, Francis was still here. Still standing outside his mother's door knowing that while she wouldn't be disappointed to see him she really ought to have been.

She opened the door shortly after his knock and he was surprised to see her dressed and put together. The clothes were as immaculate as ever: black cashmere skirt and black silk blouse; black court heels and black scarf tied in a pussy-bow at her throat; sapphires and mother-of-pearl and the scent of home and safety.

She did not say anything, and she did not smile. Her skin was nearly as pale as her pristine white hair and her blue eyes looked faded in contrast with her black eyeliner. The last time they had met, Francis had refused to say a word to her, and now she exercised her prerogative to do the same, keeping her lips tight and her expression unreadable.

"I'm sorry, you didn't need to see me," Francis said, and the control he'd had over his voice earlier was gone. He observed this with the same detachment as he'd done before, but the barrier between life and the observation of it had grown weak, and he felt on the precipice of falling in.

"Nonsense," Sybilla beckoned him inside with a muted gesture.

He didn't seek a hug so neither did she. He stared savagely at the floor as he passed her and ran a hand through his sodden hair. He looked at the little coffee tray on the low table by the window and wondered at the hotel's callousness in sending up a set for two. He felt himself shudder, felt his limbs weaken - it was as if he was being drawn back into his own self despite every attempt to resist it.

Finally, he had to look at her again, feeling his eyes wide and his breathing heavy. "I'm so sorry. Richard - he didn't...?"

Sybilla's back was to him as she eased the door closed. She turned, tossing the white waves of hair over her shoulder, and she sniffed back some emotion and rubbed at her pink nose with a tissue. "Where did you hear it?"

Francis told her about the gendarme. There was a slight gap in the drawn curtains and he stared through it at the corpse-grey light of day-break. "I'm here to help with anything you need. Were you travelling with any of his staff?"

"Sit down, Francis. Look, take some coffee. For heaven's sake - a towel," Sybilla stepped into the ensuite and emerged with a folded, fluffy bath sheet.

He looked at the chair she offered but did not take it - he was soaked through, so he accepted the towel instead and merely hugged it to his chest beneath folded arms.

Sybilla took her seat and poured the coffee out. "He had two advisors with him. Jonty and Mac. There's been no news of either. I've called their families."

She looked up at him, the sugar-tongs poised over his cup. "How many is it, these days?"

Francis shook his head. "None. Black will do. Do you want me to arrange transport for their bodies when they're found? I...I had the experience last year, with Diccon. I'll do the same for Richard."

Her hand quivered, and a cube of sugar dropped into the cup anyway. "Yes...yes, quite so..."

"Does Mariotta know?"

"I've spoken to her, yes," Sybilla disguised the tremor in her voice beneath the clink of tea-spoon on china.

Francis squeezed the folded towel tight to his body and stared down into the whirling black coffee. "I need to finish the album. I have obligations here. But afterwards - if it's necessary - if there's use for me - "

Sybilla watched him carefully without prompting him to continue. She placed the sugared coffee on the side of the table nearer the empty chair, and then began to prepare her own.

"Honestly - you would tell me, if I could be of use?"

She glanced up again and then tasted her drink. She pulled a face and added a drop more cream. "Honestly? It isn't my place. Mariotta must decide what she can manage and what she cannot."

He felt the towel in his arms growing damp as it absorbed some of the rainwater from his t-shirt, but still he just stood by her table, staring down at the coffee set like it was an elaborate chess-board, laid out mid-game. "Well, I owe her family a debt."

His mother's expression was hidden again as she bent over her coffee. She didn't raise her face this time, but studied the same pieces he did on the table in front of her. "If you put it to her like that, of course she will summon you - likely to care for me, as anything else. Then what will you do?"

Francis at last blinked. He placed the folded towel on top of the empty seat and perched himself on it, leaning forwards with his long fingers laced, his elbows on his knees, the leather cuffs he wore on each wrist growing stiff and uncomfortable from the damp. "Honestly? I don't know. It depends what condition I find the place in. It depends what care I find is needed. But I had hoped to return to the USSR."

Sybilla met his eyes and hers narrowed. She tilted her head a little and studied him curiously before asking, with less tact that was customary, "Is this about that new record agent? You're going back for Ms Çalışkan?"

Francis pursed his lips and his brows pinched together. He took a sip of thick, dark coffee and ground his teeth at the taste. On top of stale wine and hours-old stomach acid it was bitter and vile, even with the unasked-for sugar. "I'd go back whether or not my agent was based there," he answered.

Sybilla turned a knowing look on him. "Now, I may not deserve your trust, but I should still like to know: she remains your agent?"

Francis smiled mirthlessly. "Yes. I find it so much simpler to keep all the essentials in one place."

Sybilla's expression did not alter at his tone. "But you would go back to that...dour, repressive country, whether or not she was there?"

"I would."

She sat back, her elegant hands draped over each arm of the chair, her rings catching a weak ray of sunlight that had mistakenly found its way past both clouds and curtains. "What if I were no longer in Scotland? Would you come home then?"

Francis blinked and shook his head. "It would make no difference," he answered. Small, perplexed divots had appeared between his brows and by the corner of his lips.

"So you will return to Russia unless Mariotta asks otherwise? Even if I died or joined the retirees on the Costa del Sol?"

His eyes narrowed as hers had done, and he worked his jaw, well aware of how she had led him through all the hoops she'd set out. "You don't imagine I wish you dead, or exiled among the living dead and those in hiding from Interpol? Scotland is your home. I have lived there barely half of my life."

"You think I have nothing to hide from Interpol?" Sybilla twitched a brow and took a sip of coffee. "In any case, I might have died today, whether it was wished for or not. And even then, you really would have resisted going back? Does the Soviet cause really mean more to you?"

"No," he said easily and honestly.

She almost hid her smile behind her cup, but then she had to place it down as gratified tears spilled over her lower lashes. She dabbed at them with her tissue, satisfied at this achievement - like when, as a child, he had asked some simple question (why?) that threatened a complex answer, and Gavin had driven him away, telling him to find out for himself if he cared so much, and he had returned, hours later, dust from the family encyclopedias on his fingers and more detail in his research than even Sybilla had expected of him.

"Drink your coffee, Francis," she said decisively.

He picked up two more sugar cubes and dropped them into it, then filled the vessel with cream. It disguised the bitterness so that he was able to keep it down on his roiling stomach, and he twitched the curtain open with a pair of fingers so that he could see the anaemic winter sun splitting the storm clouds like kintsugi in the body of a broken pot.

The weather had not fully cleared - rain spat at the window-panes in sporadic bursts, the telephone wires outside wailed and moaned in the wind, and even the comfortable architecture of the hotel had its draughts. The door dividing Sybilla's suite from the next room juddered and the lock rattled in its cradle.

"All this work you're doing - you don't imagine it can be done as effectively there, as it could be with the freedoms you have at St Marys?" Sybilla watched him staring outside, taking in the lines of care at his eyes and brow, the scrawny, sinewey look of his neck and cheeks, and the bruises borne of sleeplessness below his eyes. "If you cannot be my neighbour then I will leave. I have the gîte. I can go directly there."

He turned to her, his expression so strange that she might almost think he was offended by the suggestion. "I'd have the Edinburgh ladies' art society turn up with torches and pitchforks," he said in a voice that seemed quite unlike his own. "I'd be condemned as the Duke of Sutherland."

Sybilla's tone was severe as she batted his objections aside with a hand. "The Edinburgh ladies can holiday in the Camargue and discover the art beyond their own doorsteps. No one can stop me from moving if I choose."

Francis cradled his cup between his two hands and made the smallest of gestures to contradict her. "I meant it," he said quietly. "There are other reasons I won't go. Whether you're two hours away or two days away, it makes little difference."

He saw the fierceness of her intellect latch on to that one small change in his phrasing: little difference. Not none. Her fingers tightened on her own mug and she sat forwards a little on her chair, her gaze dogged. "So tell me, Francis. What other reasons? What can possibly stand between you and coming home?"

A voice from behind, accompanied by the draught of a door opening, said in a granite-firm tone: "My right hook will stand between him and setting foot anywhere north of Watford! And your grandson and I will certainly stand between you and some demented exile to the gîte." Richard stood in the doorway to the adjoining suite in shirt sleeves and unknotted black tie, his cuff-links loose and his face red. "Apologies, brother - had I spent another minute in the shower you might have been made sole inheritor to the family estate."

Sybilla was on her feet, her cheeks ashen and her eyes bright. "Good lord, Richard!"

Francis felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, the skin of his arms prickle and his chest grow warm. He turned but didn't stand, and stared at the brother who had disowned him last summer, after one defection too many.

He wasn't green-cheeked and swathed in kelp; not bloated and gnawed on by fishes; he bore no injury and no sign of pain. He was as vital and robust as he'd always been: the steady hands offering a boost up to the big tree - or to the biscuit jar on the high shelf - the athlete whose weekend activities were cheered on through the muddiest seasons of the year, the school prefect and debating champion whose speeches Francis had listened to in awe as he paced his room in practice. The beloved performer of the songs the adults wanted to hear: steady, soothing piano and inconspicuous ballads on the guitar.

He was alive and he was standing a few paces from Francis, giving off a smell of sage and citrus from the hotel shower gel, his hands curled into fists and his jaw locked in fury.

Francis turned back, slowly, to his mother and played her exclamation over again in his mind.

Anger. Her voice had been raised in anger.

She was angry, as angry as Richard was - she wasn't surprised for a moment to see him there, on his feet, fresh and ready for anything.

There had been two cups.

He'd not seen Richard's name on the list because the list had fallen apart in the gendarme's hands.

Francis looked up at his mother and understood then the trick she had played.

---

Note: Duke of Sutherland, responsible for a big tranche of the Highland clearances. Not popular in vast parts of Scotland.

#whumptober2022 #whumptober #band au: checkmate #every day i write the book #character: francis crawford #character: archie abernethy #character: sybilla semple #character: richard crawford

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b3llics · 1 year

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queer gta headcanons bc i’m sleep deprived

michael: he/him gay and so deep in denial about it let’s be fr

trevor: she/they/he/it trans bisexual (canon bi)

franklin: he/him* bisexual

- *but doesn’t rly care what pronouns ppl use on him

- him and lamar are bi4bi idc

niko: he/they bisexual, non-binary and demiromantic

- i feel like he wouldn’t care about gender too much he just wants a real connection with someone, yk?

luis: he/she bisexual

- do you think him and tony explored each other’s bodies

johnny k: he/any pronouns unlabeled

huang lee: he/him trans man

victor: they/he/xe genderfluid pansexual

- they started questioning their gender after meeting reni i know it

toni: any pronouns pansexual trans man

CJ: he/him bisexual

- and if i say he got a crush on ryder and woozie then what??

tommy: he/him bi or pan idk which one

claude: they/it/he demiboy achillean

pls don’t hate me it is just my opinion and i’m having fun

#the queerification of my favorite characters is my favorite thing ever actually #like no proof is needed this character is like me bc i said so #i was gonna make this into a video edit but i’m too lazy rn

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genesysofthestars · 1 month

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Day 45

The sound of the bell greeted Luis as he cleaned the counter and prepared for another day in the cafe. “We’re still closed…” he said without looking up.

But it wasn't a customer. “Good morning, Monsieur…”

Luis looked up to see his waitress by the door, all dressed up ready for the work today but… “You look like shit.”

Erina raised an eyebrow and with sarcasm in her tone, she replied, “Why thank you, Mr. Detective. Any more observations you would like to point out?”

Luis began wiping one of the silver spoon dry. “That you seemed to forget that I told you to take a break today.”

“Exam weeks. More sleep deprived students means more customers. And I couldn’t just leave you alone in the chaos~”

He flicked the spoon into the air, like a show-off that he was. “I appreciate that but I can handle it. I always do. You, on the other hand…” Catching the spoon, Luis pointed the spoon to her. “I don’t trust.”

Erina gasped. “After everything we’ve been through…”

The barista and the waitress stared at each other, neither not willing to drop their masks at that moment.

Until Erina gave in. Sighing, she shrugged. “But no, seriously, I'll be alright. I've been through worse than this with less sleep.”

But Luis was not buying it. With one word, he turned the tables. “Irene.”

“Aw!” A small but sharp sting of power flicked by her ear, making her hiss in pain.

“See? Even she agrees with me.”

“Et tu, my other self?”

He chuckled. “Go upstairs and sleep,” Luis ordered her. “Take the morning off at least.”

“Fine…” she whined.

Luis continued polishing his silverware as Erina carried herself upstairs, where he and his little brother resided.

“I'm crashing on your sofa…”

“Hmh.”

“I'm gonna use your Netflix account...”

“Alright.”

“And I’m stealing your ice cream!”

“Stop announcing your heists.”

“Bitch, says you,” she scoffed and stuck her tongue out. “You don’t get to judge me for that.”

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #100 words a day #(oc: erina)

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wisecrackingeric-2 · 8 months

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Summary:

Set ten years after the events of Resident Evil 4; Luis, Leon and Chris have been in a long-term relationship and finally decided to have a Son.

Only Luis finds out that being a Father reminds him of his a Grandfather more than he was expecting.

So one night when their Son wakes up crying, Luis decides to take it upon himself to comfort both himself his baby.

Absolute gut-wrenching Fluff ensues.

((While this Fic is supposed to be read as apart of my ‘Luis Serra Lives’ AU, it can be read as a stand-alone too! It can also be easily read as just a Leon/Luis Fic as Chris doesn’t make an in-person appearance))

A/N: Repost cuz I didint realise until now that I actually haven’t posted the fic itself onto Tumblr!!!! If y’all could check it out on AO3 too that would mean the world,, this work is very sentimental to me and yes I did almost cry writing it what of it

———

Luis wasn’t usually a light sleeper.

At least, he didn’t think he was. Not until he had his own child, that is.

August 2004 felt like a lifetime ago now. So much had changed and so many years passed that it was impossible for Luis to look back and feel any connection towards the man he once was.

He’d asked Leon, in an act of desperation, ‘What do you think, Leon? People can change, right?’