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ashiemochi · 3 years

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aphrotitty - lsk|m

✠ Aphrotitty ↳ Don't do anything stupid ↳↳ does something stupid

➶ pairing: OC x Leon S(exy) Kennedy. ➶ genre: fluff, a slice of life, angst, gore at some point, smut/suggestive themes ➶ Overall word count: hella

✠Playlist -

NOTE: ✠ = time skip ✠✠ = switching povs/characters -this is set after the whole debacle with Jason and his terror fetish-

CONTENT WARNINGS: ☢ - gore/zombie stuff/mentions of blood/guns/you get the gist- ♰ - smut/just filth

AN: it's kind of a slowburn with shit load of build-up, imma try to upload as much as I can - anws, this is purely self-indulgent, but feel free to imagine Y/N or sumn. hope you enjoy this stubborn fixation (hitting 4 months v soon) istg if leon s Kennedy from infinite darkness does not smack me right fucking now- I also stole some dialogue from Damnation and Resident Evil 6 for shits and giggles and got inspired by other fanfics<3

✠CHAPTERS

I. new girl ft mint (249)

II. red popsicle (532)

III. the neighbourhood's lady (1,278)

IV. charcoal (938)

V. you've got mail! (431)

VI. painting mint ft a half-naked sexy man (862)

VII. jealousy, jealousy (470)

VIII. counting freckles (1,100)

IX. appeeling bread (366)

X. white is a boring colour (612)

XI. new (toxic) man (1,920)

XII. painting mint ft a fully clothed sexy man: the sequel (1,795)

XIII. typical rich greedy people (712)

XIV. them (1,061)

XV. fuck, burnt my tongue (315)

XVI. trick or treat! (1,194)

XVII. all cats are females (2,551)

XVIII. cabernet sauvignon (5,114)

XIX. now look what you've done (1,504)

XX. lady in gucci (995)

XXI. the type of girl she is (1,612)

XXII. echo lake picnic (3,595)

XXIII. good catch! (2,437)

XXIV. eye-bleeding cyan (3,524)

XXV. what's yesterday? (3,271) ↳ what is this; some sort of la-la land? (3,692)

XXVI. introducing Patrick (2,681) ↳ ever heard of greenlife? (3,959)

XXVII. good work! now here's some trauma (1,048)

XXVIII. the classic 'i-miss-you' (3,183) ↳ the Matthew (2,914) ↳↳ the oh-god-why-am-i-here (3,861) ↳↳↳ the unkissed kiss (3,243)

XXIX. can i interest you in a little conspiracy theory? (4,604)

XXX. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- (3,299)

XXXI. strawberry poptart with matilda (3,755) ↳ very (not) cute (3,028)

XXXII. black Ducati XDiavel (5,517) ↳ blanket kick (1,827)

XXXIII. the infamous family doctor (3,357) ↳ dramatic bitch (591)

XXXIV. midodrine (3,315)

XXXV. move you fat bitch (1,769)

XXXVI. second chance (1,383)

XXXVII. little elf in the making (4,160)

XXXVIII. hallucinating eggnogs (3,445) ↳ you ever seen a ghost? (1,921)

XXXIX. panic at the disco w/o the disco (4,516) ↳ spare affection, please (1,834)

XL. get in loser, we're going shopping (5,031)

XLI. drooling over leather jacket leon ft new year's eve (5,199)

XLII. 'cause it's the thriller~ thriller night~ (5,031) ☢

XLIII. you better watch out, you better watch out, yOU BETTER WATCH OUT- (2,551) ☢

XLIV. leon? like the zodiac sign leo? (3,328) ☢

XLV. george the friendly chimpanzee (4,749) ☢

XLVI. that's suspicious,,, that's weird,,, (4,330) ☢

XLVII. Mr X gon give it to ya (3,494) ☢

XLVIII. when houseplants fight back also screw the Romans (4,609) ☢

49. this might hurt a little (3,585) ☢

50. project pansy (4,039) ☢

51. i spy with my little blue eye 425 freckles (4,718) ☢

52. back in raccoon city (5,390) ☢

53. frederic knows best (4,416) ☢

54. the moment the universe waited for (4,364) ☢

55. i met a superhero (3,862) ☢

56. i lost him, i want him back (4,389) ☢

57. he did things to me (5,377) ↳ that no one else could (1,299) ☢ (minor warning)

58. damn, i miss that (5,593) ☢

59. give you what you want (3,360) ♰ ↳ 'cause your love is all i need (7,146) ♰

60. hey sexy (7,235)

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil infinite darkness #leon kennedy #dbd fanfic #resident evil fandom #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy imagines #resident evil memes #dbd memes #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #Spotify

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darkblueboxs · 4 years

Text

Best Laid Plans

For #aftgsummer

Prompt: Day trip

Pairing: Kandreil

Read here or on AO3

Kevin’s plan for the last day of summer is bullet-proof: he has a huge wall calendar, a copy of his class schedule, a note of every Exy match and banquet date, a print-out of essay deadlines and exam dates, and enough pens and sticky notes to stock a stationary shop. All he has to do is put it all together.

Unfortunately, he forgot to factor his partners into the equation.

He is laying out his highlighters by order of preference when the sound of Neil’s head hitting his desk echoes across the room. Kevin doesn’t even bother with a cursory upwards glance; he can imagine well enough the image of despondency that would meet him if he did.

“Is all of second year going to be like this?” Neil groans into his stack of textbooks.

“No,” Kevin answers, at the same time that Andrew says, “Yes.”

“It’s a matter of planning,” Kevin continues, sending Andrew an arch look. “As long as you make a schedule, stick to it, plan out your work periods and your rest times and stick to a regular sleep pattern-” Neil huffs sceptically, but Kevin continues as though he didn’t hear, “You’ll find it perfectly manageable.”

Neil sits up to cast a doubtful look in Andrew’s direction. Andrew simply shrugs. “It’ll work out.”

“You can’t just say that about everything.” Kevin turns back to his planner. He doesn’t realise Andrew has moved from the sofa until he feels the brush of his breath on the back of his neck. Bracing his arm on the back of Kevin’s chair, Andrew leans over him to inspect Kevin’s progress.

“You have every minute of your every day planned from now until Christmas,” he observes flatly. Curiosity piqued, Neil joins him on Kevin’s other side.

“Wow,” he says as he studies the neat blocks of colour denoting Kevin’s activities. “I’m amazed you didn’t plot your bathroom breaks onto this, too.”

“I don’t need a planner to tell me when to take a shit,” he says irritably.

“What about me and Andrew? Do we get our own highlighter colour?” Neil leans forwards, pretending to read from a particular quadrant. “Sunday, seven am, get boned.”

“You two can ‘bone’ all you want at seven am on a Sunday, I’ll be enjoying my one lie-in of the week, thank you.”

Tired of their bickering, Andrew reaches between them to flip Kevin’s planner shut.

“Hey!”

“We’re going for a drive,” Andrew announces. He doesn’t wait for Neil or Kevin’s response, but leads the way with the typical certainty that they will follow.

Kevin and Neil flick a look at each other. The three of them have come as close to telepathy as anyone ever will, and this is the look that says, is this worth fighting him over?

The answer is, as always, a resounding no.

After Neil wins the scuffle for the front seat, Kevin settles into the middle back seat, arms crossed. Neil flicks a triumphant smirk over his shoulder, which Kevin replies to with a scowl. The Maserati’s engine purrs through the leather as Andrew throws it into gear. Kevin lets his head fall back as they pull onto the motorway, mentally mapping out and re-arranging his plans for the day onto the blank fabric of the ceiling. There’s a rustle as Neil finds the packet of peanuts Kevin stashed in the glove compartment, and a moment later one bounces off his forehead.

“Andrew,” Kevin complains.

Andrew sighs heavily through his nose. “Children.”

Neil cackles, and Kevin reaches around the seat to throttle him, and Andrew threatens to pull over and stuff them both in the boot, bringing the scuffle to an end. At some point during their distraction he pulled off from the road that would take them to downtown Columbia, electing instead to loop around the metropolis.

“Where the hell are we going, Andrew?” Kevin watches as buildings give way to long stretches of scrubland, bleached brown by weeks of sun. Midday is approaching, and soon a stuffy car will be the last place any of them want to be trapped. Andrew shrugs and merges onto another road seemingly at random.

“I think I hitchhiked here once,” Neil muses.

“How? It’s so empty.” The road stretches out like an endless tar river ahead of them. Other traffic is sparse to non-existent; the idea of breaking down out here is daunting enough. Kevin can’t imagine trudging along the roadside in the summer heat, waiting for a truck to take pity on him, subject to the chaotic whims of the world. Kevin isn’t as dependant on company as he was when he left the nest, but still the endless stretches of emptiness scratch at the remaining agoraphobia in the back of his mind.

Suddenly, Andrew slams on the breaks, hard enough that the strap of Kevin’s seatbelt cuts off the flow of oxygen. Neil jolts forwards, saved from smacking his face off the dashboard by Andrew’s arm. The bag of peanuts is not so lucky, scattering over the front seats in a cascade of empty shells.

“Fuck,” Neil chokes out. Kevin reaches forward to grasp his shoulder, and Neil clamps his hand down over it, reassuring each other of their presence. They look to Andrew; the hand that was not thrown out to protect Neil is clamped, white-knuckled, on the wheel.

Their explanation stares at them from the other side of the windscreen, a tall, slender deer with large, brown eyes. Its ear twitches as it watches them, caught between fear and curiosity.

“Move,” Andrew says as though the animal can hear him. “Move, you idiot.”

Neil leans across him to tap the horn. Startled by the noise, the deer darts across the road and disappears amongst the trees. After flicking a glance over Neil, Andrew turns to pinch Kevin’s chin between his fingers, turning his head back and forth to inspect the damage. The seatbelt left a red line across his collarbone, which Kevin insists does not hurt. Andrew prods it with his forefinger, and when he receives no reaction, he nods. He cups Kevin’s cheek briefly before letting go, the closest Andrew comes to acts of reassurance.

“She came out of nowhere,” Neil says. Andrew hums in agreement. He taps his fingers against the wheel, but does not start the engine up again until Kevin’s breathing has returned to normal.

They end up weaving along Lake Murray, bursts of endless, glittering blue backing the rows of trees that flash past. Andrew’s speed is unaffected by their brush with the deer, but his eyes don’t stray from the road ahead, not even to take in the glowing vistas as they pass.

Andrew picks an exit at random, and they pull up near a small jetty. At the peak of summer it would be swarmed with fishers and families in campervans. As the season draws to the end, only a few stragglers remain, a mother watching her toddlers chase each other around the picnic tables while kayakers splash each other with their oars a little way out from the boathouse. The boathouse shares its building with a shop that sells snacks and children’s toys. Andrew swings past the plastic bats and balls to raid the slim freezer of its popsicles while Neil stares at a map marking hiking trails and beauty spots.

They sit on the end of the jetty, feet swinging over the edge while they devour their purchases. Kevin catches Neil using his soda as an ice-pack, and the ensuing squabble nearly ends with them tumbling into the lake. Andrew watches them through lidded eyes, popsicle dangling from his mouth as he leans back on his arms. Noticing the reddening patches spreading across the back of Andrew’s neck, Kevin sends Neil back to the shop with a nod, distracting Andrew from his absence by debating which bird species were responsible for the orchestra of chirps and calls echoing across the forest. Andrew scowls when Neil returns with a bottle of sunscreen, but after a lecture from Kevin and pleading eyes from Neil, he submits to having his arms and neck slathered with factor fifty.

Andrew finds a picnic bench in the shade to drape himself over while Neil drags Kevin along a walking trail that meanders along the ins and outs of the coastline, finishing at a sandy outlet that gives then a panoramic view of the lake. Kevin ruminates on geographical quirks and features of the area until Neil grows tired of Kevin’s musings and persuades him to abandon his socks and shoes on the white sand so they can wade along the shallow embankment. The sludgy sand of the lakebed gives way so easily underfoot that for a second Kevin fells as though he’s being sucked down into quicksand. He stumbles, knocking into Neil as he does so. Neil mistakes it for a challenge, and bumps him back. Kevin, having barely recovered his balance, loses it all over again. He reaches out for Neil’s arm in the vain hope of steadying himself, but succeeds only in pulling Neil over with him.

They crash into the water with identical shouts. When Kevin looks up, Neil is pushing his sodden bangs back from his eyes. Neil takes one look at his expression and bursts out laughing. Kevin reaches for Neil’s shirt, the idea of drowning him in the sapphire lake water growing in its appeal, but is distracted from his mission when Neil catches Kevin’s mouth with his instead.

They stay there a while, drenched clothes plastered to their skin as the cool water swirls and laps at them, kissing the salty-sweet taste of the lake from each other’s lips.

They stumble back to the picnic benches, where they find Andrew absorbed in watching birds flit back and forth between the bird feeders hanging overhead. He levels the dripping pair with a long look.

“You have a hickey,” he says to Neil at last.

“Jealous?” Neil responds. Andrew’s eyes flick to Kevin, as good a confirmation as any. Kevin’s lips twitch as he tilts his head to one side, making a show of looking Andrew over.

“He needs more sunscreen,” Kevin announces. Andrew rolls his eyes.

When Andrew is slathered up once again to Kevin and Neil’s satisfaction, Kevin rewards him with a soft kiss to his pulse-point, enjoying the way Andrew’s body shivers under the point of contact.

“You’re dripping everywhere,” Andrew says.

“You think I did this?” Kevin levels Neil with a pointed look. Neil shrugs the accusation off.

They find an empty stretch of sand to settle down on, leaving the sun to do the heavy work of drying them off. After a cursory glance to ensure they’re alone, Neil pulls his shirt over his head and lies it out on a rock, stretching out on the sand.

“Sun lotion,” Andrew reminds him smugly.

“Fuck you.” Neil yawns. Soon, he is fast asleep, head pillowed in his arms while the sun warms his shoulder blades.

Kevin slides his feet around in the sand, mesmerised by the patterns it makes as the grains shift and tumble around him. Andrew arches an eyebrow at him.

“I travelled a lot, back when I was… in the nest. Never to places like this, though. It was always major cities, sporting events, press ops. Even then, my every minute was filled with promotions and endorsements and matches and interviews. I never had time to see much of anything.” Kevin picks up a handful of sand, enjoys the way it sifts through his fingers. “It’s quiet.”

Andrew pushes up suddenly, stalking off back in the direction of the boat house. He comes back with – Kevin blinks – a plastic toy set in a net bag. Little shovels, a bucket, brightly coloured moulds for pressing shapes of crabs and starfish into the sand. He dumps the contents into Kevin’s lap save for a shovel.

“Sandcastles work best with damp sand,” he offers, before moving off to work on his own project. When Kevin looks up several minutes later, most of Neil’s torso is buried in sand.

He makes a sandcastle, then another, then stacks one on top of the other two, quietly proud when the structure holds.

Neil wakes up as Andrew is smoothing sand over his shoulders with the blunt side of the spade. He wriggles to dislodge the wet sludge before hurling a clump at Andrew’s head. Andrew rolls behind Kevin’s larger frame in time to avoid Neil’s attack, and Kevin glares at Neil until he raises his hands in surrender.

As the sun sinks, the sky smooths into a pool of pinks and oranges, and the lake winks the colours back up to the heavens. They lean against each other and watch, side-by-side, while Andrew points out osprey and egrets as they flit from one end of the horizon to the other.

As the sun falls behind the line of the trees, Kevin realises with a start that the day is over, and he hasn’t done any of the things he planned to do with it. Then, he realises with a slow, creeping kind of irritation that quickly gives way to something warm and painfully affectionate, that this was Andrew’s plan all along.

“Andrew,” Kevin says. Andrew hums, but does not lift his head from its resting place on Kevin’s shoulder.

The words escape him, so Kevin doesn’t try to find them. Andrew will understand; he always does, after all.

It’s going to be a great school year.

Thanks for reading!

#aftg summer #kandreil #aftg #tfc #all for the game #my fic

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darkblueboxs · 4 years

Text

Strawberry Lips

For #aftgsummer

Prompt: Popsicle

Rating: M

Read here or on AO3

Andrew stares into the empty freezer. “Neil,” he says, letting just enough feeling creep into his tone for Neil to truly understand the depths of his devastation. “You forgot the ice-cream.”

Andrew and Neil make homemade popsicles. Shenanigans ensue.

Andrew stares into the empty freezer. “Neil,” he says, letting just enough feeling creep into his tone for Neil to truly understand the depths of his devastation. “You forgot the ice-cream.”

“There was no ice-cream. There was no ice-anything.” Neil is kneeling on the kitchen counter, which he has decided for reasons unknown is easier than the step stool where reaching the upper shelves is concerned. The hem of his shirt rides up as he shoves Andrew’s requested junk food into one of the upper cupboards, apparently labouring under the delusion that lack of easy access will in some way act as a deterrent. “The store had a power outage last night. They don’t have any frozen food at all.”

Andrew lets the freezer door swing shut. There are few things that he allows to truly get under his skin. The idea of countless tubs of ice-cream going to waste in a supermarket dumpster doesn’t make the list, but it does come close. The weather forecast for the next few days could roughly be compared to hell on earth, and Andrew is not in the mood to tolerate a heatwave without suitable frozen goods on hand.

“I did get the last one of these, though.” Neil reaches into one of the bags and pulls out a plastic popsicle-making kit. “I don’t know what people usually put in their moulds, so I bought a few things. Could be interesting?” He slides down from the counter, landing chest-to-chest with Andrew.

“Could be,” Andrew answers non-committaly.

After some debate, they divide the moulds out between them, allowing Neil to chop and blend as much fruity yogurty shit as he wants for his own popsicles while Andrew works on how to best liquefy chocolate. He ends up with a milk-and-melted-chocolate concoction which Neil wrinkles his nose at while Andrew fills his containers. Andrew dusts icing sugar in before adding the sticks, not because he thinks it will improve the flavour, but just to see Neil’s barely restrained horror.

Andrew slouches off to the living room to clean out the mixing bowl. Neil turns up with leftover strawberries in time to wipe up the dregs Andrew’s fingers missed. Fruit is tolerable, Andrew concedes, in conjunction with chocolate, and watching Neil lick stray dribbles of chocolate mix from his fingers is an added bonus.

Despite having told Andrew that they will have to wait until tomorrow at the earliest, Neil checks on the progress of their creations in the freezer at least twice before bed like a mother hen fussing over her eggs.

The forecast was, for once, correct. The heat hits Columbia like a sledgehammer, and Andrew is eternally grateful that Neil already agreed to a week off from practice, because, air-con or not, Andrew cannot imagine exercising in this.

Luckily, they’re prepared. Neil runs the mould under the tap until two of the popsicles are loose enough to tug free, and they retreat to the couch to enjoy the fruits of their labour. Andrew’s creation tastes better than he expected, although in truth his standards have never been high as long as the sugar content was to his satisfaction.

Andrew bites through his popsicle in a matter of minutes. Neil does not go for the same strategy, choosing instead to lap at the tip absent-mindedly while he browses the Exy magazine lying open in his lap. Andrew watches a bead of condensation roll down the creamy-pink popsicle and drip, unnoticed, onto Neil’s shirt. Neil seems unconcerned by the ticking time bomb that is a popsicle in a warm room; he continues with a series of kitten-licks occasionally broken up as he runs his tongue along the length of the popsicle to catch any run-off juice before it can drip onto his magazine. It’s when Neil swirls his tongue around the end before pulling off with a faint pop that Andrew begins to wonder if he's being fucked with. He tilts his head to one side and upgrades his expression from blank observation to all-out glare. Neil seems genuinely surprised when he notices Andrew’s pointed gaze. “What?”

“You’re taking your time,” Andrew says levelly.

“Not my fault you finished yours in five seconds flat.”

“It’s dribbling everywhere. You’re making a mess,” Andrew says unthinkingly, then hears the innuendo and suddenly finds himself fighting the urge to put his fist through a wall. “You’re being gross.”

“I’m not gonna bite it,” Neil says, so petulantly that Andrew reconsiders the wall as the target of his frustrations. “Hold on, let me just-” And then, to Andrew’s disbelief, Neil tilts back his head and slides the popsicle right to the back of his throat. And Andrew knows the second it hits the back of Neil’s throat because Neil makes a noise, and Andrew knows that noise, and if he has to hear it again under these circumstances, he will commit murder.

Andrew hooks a finger around Neil’s wrist and pulls until the popsicle slides out from Neil’s lips. Neil looks at Andrew, betrayed, his lips painted strawberry-pink. “What?!”

“You have to be kidding me.”

“No?”

“Do you have any idea,” Andrew growls, and then stops, because it’s Neil. Of course he doesn’t. “Allow me to explain.” He places his hand over Neil’s so that they’re both holding the popsicle stick between them and makes pointed eye-contact as he licks a long, wet stripe along the length of the popsicle.

Neil’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “Um.”

Andrew repeats the motion, enjoying the twitch of Neil’s fingers under his. He draws back to lick his lips. “What did you put in these?”

“Strawberries, raspberries, cream, yogurt…” Neil trails off. “Tequila.”

It’s Andrew’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You held out on me.”

“I wanted to test the recipe out first.” Neil’s eyes haven’t left Andrew’s lips for some time. “Thoughts?”

Andrew hums thoughtfully. Neil’s eyes widen as he leans forward and sucks the popsicle down. He lets his eyes flutter closed as he rolls the popsicle around his mouth. He slides back up, but just as he has Neil convinced that he’s going to relinquish the popsicle he bobs down again, allowing a quiet hum of contentment to slip from his chest as he does so. He’s even sloppier than Neil was, and a few drops of creamy liquid escape over the cusp of the popsicle and dribble across their fingers. Andrew makes another noise, and is rewarded with a quiet, “fuck, Andrew,” for his efforts.

“Yeah,” Andrew says after pulling off with a pop. “I’d say it’s pretty good.”

Neil answers with a noise that is a few octaves higher than his usual tone. He all but throws the Exy magazine to the floor to make way for Andrew climbing into his lap, struggling to balance the rapidly melting popsicle with Andrew’s sudden weight. Andrew doesn’t waste time worrying about what Neil is going to do with it, not when his face is right there, cheeks flushed and lips still stained from the fruit, and when he seizes Neil’s face in his hands and kisses him, he can taste it on Neil’s lips and in his mouth and on his tongue and it is perfect. Neil kisses back like he’s getting drunk on Andrew’s mouth, and maybe he is.

Like fighting gravity, Andrew pulls himself back long enough to say, “You can touch me.”

Neil waggles his free hand in Andrew’s eyeline, which shines with trails of melted popsicle juice. “Too sticky.”

Andrew rolls his eyes, takes hold of Neil’s hand, and sucks two fingers into his mouth. Flavour bursts across Andrew’s tongue as he swirls it around the digits, tracking down every drop of juice. Neil swears, a colourful string of expletives that send heat shooting through Andrew’s gut. Andrew chases the fruit down towards Neil’s knuckles, by which time Neil has dropped the cursing in favour of watching, lips parted, as Andrew licks across his skin.

“That… that didn’t help,” Neil says as he stares at his spit-slick fingers.

“Unfortunate,” Andrew replies, before losing himself again in the taste of Neil’s mouth. One of Neil’s hands fists in Andrew’s shirt while his arm hooks around Andrew’s neck like it’s his lifeline. Andrew only spots the problem with this when something cold touches his leg.

“Neil,” Andrew growls into Neil’s mouth. “What did you do with the popsicle?”

“Oh,” Neil says, looking in surprise at his empty hands. “I think I…dropped it?” They both look down at the same time to see the pink puddle dribbling across the cushions. “…oops?”

Andrew hisses in irritation, nudging Neil sideways to remove them from the path of the meltwater. He slides a hand into Neil’s hair and tugs until his lips are at Neil’s ear. “You are going to clean this up,” Andrew says lowly, “And when – only when – this mess is gone, you will find me upstairs.”

Andrew climbs out of Neil’s lap without waiting for a response. It takes Neil a moment to collect himself enough for one, but he manages in time to catch Andrew in the doorway. “Andrew?”

Andrew turns back, eyebrow quirking.

Neil smirks. “So, you like my popsicle?”

Andrew leaves without replying.

Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for more aftg summer pieces :)

#aftg summer #aftg #andreil #tfc #all for the game #my fic #i dont know what to say guys the prompt list said popsicle and this just kinda happened

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