#shoottheminthehead

[bastardsunlight]

They've not said it, but Leon is all but moved in and living with Chris. He sleeps in his bed every night and that morning, when Chris is downstairs making coffee and breakfast, he's left a very small black box open and containing a black ring on the nightstand next to Leon with a note.

Leon, Consider this... Whatever you want it to be. I'd do it the sappy Chris Redfield way, but I have a hunch you would scrunch your nose at me and laugh. I also know how you usually feel about commitment and you know that... I'm not getting any younger and how I feel about commitment. So... Is it an engagement ring? A nice ring from your boyfriend? A reason to run out of my house screaming and never return? You decide. Regardless... I want to marry you and I'm downstairs making you breakfast with coffee. Join me when you finally decide to wake up if your answer isn't running out screaming. In which case... I'm eating your bacon, Kennedy. Love, Chris

Scrunch my nose? His first thought is addled as he’s just awoken. Do I really do that? His bleary blue eyes scan the note, trying to process it fully, but his brain has simply latched onto this little bit of himself Chris has noticed and noted. Why does this one line make his heart thump? He feels a hand rise to his mouth and the irritating prickle of tears in his eyes.

The last time—god, it all fell apart, hadn’t it? Adam, Leon thinks. What if I lose Chris the same way? I can’t… But a counter argument rose like a great sea beast, swallowing the doubts in a tsunami of reassurance.

He is Chris Redfield. The only man on earth harder to kill than you are. Leon reaches for the ring and slides it on, delighted at the fit. He holds it up in front of his eyes and feels his pretty lips pulling into a smile. Grabbing the first shirt he finds draped over a chair, he tosses it over his head and heads hastily follows the smell of breakfast.

“Y-yes—I…” He feels his words catch in his breath, standing, barely dressed in the kitchen doorway, his eyes misty. “Chris… I…”

#response #GROSS DO IT AGAIN #sinday #chreon #strongarmed #shoottheminthehead #noonegetsleftbehind

[bastardsunlight]

"So, Leon... Pumpkin carving?" Krauser flashes a knife. "Or are you wanting to be my canvas?"

"Talk dirty to me, big man," comes the response and his own knife is out in a flash. There are pumpkins, but if these two keep it up, they will be discarded utterly.

#response #metaltango #shoottheminthehead #ex socom

[bastardsunlight]

grip for Leon

“Look at me,” Chris rumbles above him, a hand caressing Leon’s cheek. With an arm tossed over his eyes it is difficult, but Chris repeats himself and Leon’s grip shifts. Jerking his hips a little, Chris brings another cry from Leon’s pretty, parted lips, blue eyes hazy with pleasure, half-lidded and practically rolling. Reaching down, Chris grasps the man’s chin and gently forces their eyes to meet. “I love you,” he whispers. “Don’t ever forget that.”

“I’m—I… hnmnn… Chris, I…” The way Chris is rolling his hips makes it almost impossible to speak and Leon laments his inability to form a coherent sentence or he’d tell the man this exactly. Instead, he nods and cries out in the affirmative as the big man speeds his pace and the headboard of the bed begins to drum rhythmically against the wall.

Grip meme

#just went full send on that one #nsfa #chreon #shoottheminthehead #noonegetsleftbehind

[bastardsunlight]

Though he could be a monster at times, today wasn't that day, laying his head down on Leon's shoulder with a soft rumble. Really, all he wanted right now was attention.

“Hmn?” Leon shifted a little and straightened, lifting his eyebrow and then tilted his head to better regard the man. He knew better than to ask stupid questions like “are you okay?” Krauser would tell him if it was something he needed to know.

#response #shoottheminthehead #metaltango #ex socom

[bastardsunlight]

[ HEAT ] (for Leon)

[ HEAT ]:      while in the middle of a make-out session, sender pushes the receiver up against the wall, unwittingly heating things up even more.

Leon’s hands grope and grasp anywhere they can reach, digging his fingers in, hoping to mark and bruise. Their mouths press together, hard and hungry, a moan escaping his lips only to be swallowed by Chris’s ravenous kiss. Without warning, the big man hoists Leon into his arms and the agent’s long legs wrap around his waist as his back hits the wall. He grunts a little and that too is consumed in the fiery hunger of Chris Redfield’s lips.

Pinned against a wall

#response #chreon #strongarmed #noonegetsleftbehind #shoottheminthehead #sinday

[bastardsunlight]

[ TRAINING ]

[ TRAINING ]:     during a sparring match, sender ends up pinning the receiver against the wall.

What Leon lacks in size and strength, he more than makes up for in agility and flexibility. Jack Krauser seems determined to test the limits of this. He wants Leon to be able to defend himself and escape if he needs, of course, but there’s obviously no harm toying with the kid.

Leon feels himself tossed completely off-balance, grabbed, and forced bodily against the nearest wall. Krauser has one arm pinned behind him. The other is pressed against that same wall as he arches and tries to escape the hold. His cheek is slick against the wall’s surface—he is sweaty; they’ve been training for a few hours now—and his heart hammers in his chest as he feels the grip of a hand upon his hip.

He groans quietly and bites his lip. If the hand wanders, what of it? They’ve worked hard today… maybe a little downtime won’t hurt.

Pinned against a wall

#metaltango #ex socom #response #shoottheminthehead #nsfa #kinda???

[bastardsunlight]

Hawker suddenly retches violently and steadies herself on the wall -- it might be comical, the way she rather resembles a cat expelling a hairball, until there's a flicker of something that might be actual distress.

It only lasts a moment, however; she's accustomed to straightening out physiological malfunctions herself (and she's had her share, having perfected her dual mutation alone and with precious little room for helplessness) and so in a rather grotesque display of self-reliance a single black tendril extends from her mutated hand and is shoved, a little roughly, down her own throat to dislodge the cause of the episode.

She snatches it out again with something very like disgust for a creature who has seen many horrific and mutated things and is rather frightening-looking herself; something small and black and twitching smacks with a plasticky sound against the concrete and when the gun light of the silent Apex beside her falls upon it, the harsh blue-white beam glints off the feebly scrabbling legs of what is undeniably a very sickly young Plaga -- as strange as the notion that such a thing can be sickly might be. Its tiny, chitinous body is burned and malformed in places, as if Uroboros sought to consume it before ultimately rejecting it.

Sixteen's boot is upon it almost as fast as it can be identified, the force of the driven heel enough for Chris and Leon to feel even at their distance. His expression as he looks at Hawker is unreadable behind his mask, but must resemble concern to her, because she spits, laughs uneasily, and remarks,

"Wrong neighborhood, Jiminy Cricket."

Her own goggles are pushed back, and it is clear she is avoiding Leon's eyes as she retracts the tendril, resumes the normal use of her support hand beneath the triple barrel of the Hydra, and presses forward.

They both see it—both nearly feel it—as the thing is extracted and crushed with extreme prejudice. The way Leon’s body tenses is something else they both feel, though he is reticent to admit it. He feels a steadying hand on his lower back, but nothing more than that, as Chris nods to him ‘you okay?’

‘Yeah,’ comes the silent response, communicated with eyes only, ‘let’s get moving.’

It’s clear from his expression that Leon wants to laugh. Sarah Hawker is a comedy genius, even at the darkest of times, but this thing… this is something else. Still, it cannot stop him a few yards down the corridor.

“You ever seen Poltergeist 2, Hawk?”

#response #chreon #implied #eelhawk #or is it #lightninghawk #I cannot recall #vehxmence #shoottheminthehead #thumbsupgunsout

[bastardsunlight]

"No, you're drunk." "Agent Thorne" fixes his pale blue gaze upon Chris Redfield in a convincingly level and accusatory manner from the other side of the whiskey glass he has just drawn back from his lips. As with most of his few words, the intensity is such that one might believe him, had he not just briefly regaled the other man with some rather delightfully incriminating sentiments of his pertaining to one Sarah Hawker -- as if the vicious, chemical-burn scars he wears from jaw to chest do not hint at precisely what manner of reckless behavior he would engage in on her behalf. Chris can drink with the best of them, to include one blessed with Apex's enhanced processing power (of alcohol, namely), and perhaps at this game, the former Left Hand is content to let him win.

"Besides, you're not one to talk. ты любишь его -- plain as day." A sly grin creeps across the Apex's face as his eyes tick, ever so briefly, to Leon. "A rare thing in this trade, yes? -- to complete yourself." His eyes drift to the door for at least the fiftieth time tonight, awaiting the boisterous entrance of the victorious Hyena and her minimal away team, back from a rather profitable convoy bust. The three of them had started celebrating early, and it had been taking less and less convincing to drag Thorne away from whatever he was doing in the armory as of late.

"Without blood or money."

Chris has rarely been called so thoroughly on the carpet—most people shy away from doing so, given his size and the severity of the gaze in his remaining eye. That eye is bleary with drink and his cheeks are flushed with the pleasure of good company. Leon marvels at the change between Chris Redfield and the Apex called Sixteen—or Thorne, if one is being polite.

Sixteen doesn’t have quite the same vehement dislike of his numerical designation, partially because that is what he has always been and partially, Leon thinks, because he is just now learning what it is to be human, really and truly human.

“When you… break in fucked up pieces,” Chris offers, his gaze also falling on Leon, the corner of whose mouth curls upward and he lifts his own class from his reclined position, “it’s hard as hell to find someone willing to handle ‘em… It cuts, y’know? Not just them… Cuts you.”

Chris is one of the gifted when it comes to his inebriation and his deeper soul tends to bare itself with some eloquence. Leon is listening now—Leon always listens—and nodding. All three of them know what it is to be broken into jagged, dangerous pieces. They’re not whole, not quite. Nobody ever is. But they are complete.

“There’s always blood,” Leon points out, “but… It’s good to bleed for someone or something that’s worth it.”

His voice is a bit clearer as his own subtle mutation handles alcohol like it handles everything else: tanking it and shaking it off like water off a duck’s feathers. Still, he’s feeling the haze around the corners of his vision and suddenly Chris is looking very… very good. He watches Thorne’s gaze move to the door and smiles wider.

She’s his someone.

#response #vehxmence #thumbsupgunsout #shoottheminthehead #chreon #strongarmed #honestly this made me feel lots of things. #eelhawk

[bastardsunlight]

[Hawk] rubs on Leon like a cat, only she’s a 7 ton 4WD Uroboros abomination in the approximate shape of a nightmare so she mostly just pushes him out of the way.

He is encompassed by her mass and engulfed by noodles; his plea for mercy is utterly muffled. He wiggles, however, hoping to irritate or tickle her into submission. This tactic has a roughly 69% success rate.

#response #shoottheminthehead #lionhawk #vehxmence

[bastardsunlight]

[Hawk @ Leon, presumably while casually extending and retracting her hand noodle] fun science fact: I can generate as many of these as you want.

He’s not even going to pretend he’s not interested, looking her up and down.

“As many as I want, huh?”

#response #lionhawk #vehxmence #shoottheminthehead

[bastardsunlight]

Hey Leon... Do the carpet match the drapes?

"Depends on the room" he responds without looking up from reading his son's thesis paper. It's a bit over his head, but he's promised Jamie and by god he's going to keep that promise. Squinting and holding it a little farther from his eyes with one hand, he wonders if he might need glasses. "Clashing is in right now."

#response #shoottheminthehead #jamiroquai my son #I LOVE YOUuuUUuu #sinday

[bastardsunlight]

Has he grossly misinterpreted, or is he testing the definition of sashimi? Whatever the case, Sixteen maintains almost direct eye contact with Chris as he deftly slices off a piece of the salmon fillet and takes a bite out of it, scales and all.

"I... was going to smoke that..." Chris has only recently become comfortable with Sixteen even EXISTING, much less in the same space he is occupying.

"Relax," Leon chides from a doorway. "It means he likes you. If he leaves organs, you're a god."

#response #SLFHSDSDH #thumbsupgunsout #shoottheminthehead #vehxmence #brot3

[bastardsunlight]

a cold November rain

Continued from here with @noonegetsleftbehind

“Guns ‘n’ Roses, huh?” He isn’t judging. He leans into the grasp, moving easily with Chris, enjoying the singing. Leon chances it and leans up, pressing his lips to the other man’s in the dim, warm light. 

“It’s perfect...” His lips are inches away from Chris’s. 

#rp #shoottheminthehead #noonegetsleftbehind

[bastardsunlight]

[ STOP ] (for Leon)

[ STOP ]:     in order to stop the receiver from walking away, the sender guides them back and pushes them against a wall.

He’s not used to being moved with such strength. It is almost otherworldly, which would be alarming except that he knows Heisenberg isn’t exactly human. The motion is relatively gentle, all things considered, but Leon feels there is more to this gesture than just wanting him not to leave.

“...yeah?”

Pinned against a wall

#response #fcrrokinetic #shoottheminthehead #sinday