These are just little stories that I wrote - there were rules for it: where you pick a fandom/character/etc. and put your ipod on shuffle and write a drabble about it/them/etc. until the song ended.
THESE ARE YAOI RESIDENT EVIL ONE-SHOTS.
NONE OF THEM ARE OVER T.
Just keep scrollin' just keep scrollin'
Until you get to the stories. You may want to know the info about each story first. (Pairing - Song and Time isn't important.)
I decided to do it, but I liked most of the outcomes and I thought most of you would enjoy reading them. Consider them VERY short one-shots. Additional information is below as followed. Look up the songs on youtube if you have the time. Enjoy.
1.
Pairing: Billy Coen X Carlos Olivera (for my best friend, sorry if it's Crack in your eyes. XD)
Song: Stolen – Dashboard Confessional
Time Of Song: 3:19 (Went a little over to put it in italics.)
2.
Pairing: Chris Redfield X Albert Wesker (I cheated you guys – I used the first part of my best friend's and I's RP, but it took me the amount of time to get it, copy and paste, fix up a few things. I play as Wesker and she played as Chris. Please forgive me for I am a cheater. Sorry to leave a cliffhanger, too. ;;)
Song: Pieces – Sum 41
Time Of Song: 3:02
3.
Pairing: Chris Redfield X Albert Wesker
Song: Pretend – Number One Gun
Time Of Song: 2:49
4.
Pairing: Joseph Frost X Brad Vickers
Song: Calling You – Blue October
Time Of Song: 3:59 (Took a little longer for italics.)
5.
Pairing: Leon Scott Kennedy X Jack Krauser
Song: Enemy – Fozzy
Time Of Song: 4:28 (It took me a little longer, when the song ended the thing made no sense so I gave myself another minute to finish.)
6.
Pairing: Brad Vickers X Joseph Frost
Song: Take Me Away – Avril Lavigne
Time Of Song: 2:57 (More time needed for italics/strike.)
7.
Pairing: Chris Redfield X Albert Wesker
Song: Drag - Placebo
Time Of Song: 3:21 (Additional for italics and corrections.)
8.
Pairing: Carlos Olivera X Billy Coen (Once again – for my friend.)
Song: Can't Be Saved – Senses Fail
Time Of Song: 3:07
9.
Pairing: Leon Scott Kennedy X Jack Krauser
Song: Please – Ludo
Time Of Song: 3:18
10.
Not completed yet.
1.
The stubbles on his face tickled his beloved; oooh.
How sweet this reunion was to the two males. The mercenary was torn away, held captive within his own dirty job – or as the opposite man of the pair would call it. I'm a man for hire. As once said – perhaps many times would the words dive from his tongue into the ears of another? Though once for sure.
Ahhh…How did we meet again? Why do I love you like a man should a woman? Why, I ask you?
Because, babe, I'm me. And me is irresistible. Me is who you wish to be; not running from the law. You could call me your other shadow.
His fingers glided gently past the skin on his arm – or more like ink. The large tribal-like tattoo that graced his muscles seemed to radiate, seemed to bask in all of its glory.
You don't need ink stains on your arm to prove you're powerful.
Whoever said that?
You're already beautiful.
The ex-marine just smiled as warmly as a stone-cold convict could, "Olivera..."
2.
Since his escape from the Mansion in the Arklay mountains, Chris Redfield had been fully aware of Umbrella and Former S.T.A.R.S. Captain, Albert Wesker's plan in developing the T-virus. His recent efforts to destroy Umbrella and find his sister, Claire Redfield, led him to a facility on Rockfort Island.
Earlier Chris had received a letter from Leon S. Kennedy telling him that Umbrella had him under surveillance. He also stated that Claire was currently there searching for him, having no luck.
Unfortunately, by the time Chris arrived, Claire had been 'long gone'. Or so Wesker had said. Everything went downhill from there.
Chris sat alone, deep in thought, in the small cell inside the penitentiary atop Rockfort island. He wouldn't have minded much if it wasn't for the fact that he was in there because Wesker ordered it. Chris was absolutely certain he would enjoy being feasted on by zombies, having them gnaw away at his flesh and eat his insides, rather than spend his time locked up completely at Wesker's will.
He looked around himself at the concrete walls that once held in the experiments of Umbrella. Chris shuddered at the thought. With a sigh he shifted and laid himself on the grimy floor. Filth was unavoidable in that place.
He wasn't necessarily your most average power hungry villain. One could say he was far from being an average human, having a sort of mutation linking through his veins. If that wasn't the worst, his lack of a personality sure did the trick. Although that may be harsh, Albert Wesker had SOME redeeming qualities, though others seemed to disagree. He was just a well organized man, which was how he put it.
What didn't mix well with Albert Wesker - revenge. The man seemed to carry plenty of hatred along with him, and what was worse was that he didn't let it go so simply. This has been proven greatly, and relates to a certain S.T.A.R.S. member - Chris Redfield. How he loathed the younger man, one could say with a passion. A passion that wouldn't subside. And it was sheer bliss that his men succeeded in capturing the little twerp.
Wesker took stern, graceful steps through the hallway, two of his men on each side of his shoulders, giving him the latest status report, giving him each detail they thought Albert should know. His shaded eyes leapt up to the door, where Chris was sealed in, and just the pure thought of getting the revenge he so ached for urged on a devious smile, followed by a soft chuckle. The men practically perched on his shoulders were ordered to evacuate once the door knob was turned (after the security locks were released, of course). This was going to be a bittersweet moment, he already knew.
Chris could hear metallic clanking beyond the door, bringing his face into an immediate scowl. He swore that if it were Wesker beyond that door, he would murder that son-of-a-bitch as soon as he entered.
The doorknob turned with a metallic grind and Chris jerked up in response, reaching for his gun in his holster. His hands touched no metal, only leather. Those men had taken his only form of protection from him when he had been unconscious. He looked up to the door scowling, hopefully allowing Wesker (or whoever it might be) a glimpse of his hatred.
The moment those shaded eyes of his registered the younger male, his grin had evolved into that usual, cold smirk he normally flashed when satisfied. The look on the brunette's face was just simply priceless, oh how he would savor that look.
"I see you're awake, Chris." His voice was rather husky, low and possibly ravishing. He used his usual toned volume, the chuckles that held in his throat made his sentence seem more harsh. He seemed almost emotionless (meaning that if he was attacked, he would show no real sign of a worried expression), although one could easily tell he was amused judging by his tone, "From what I was told, you weren't taken down so easily. Bravo, you have impressed me once more."
3.
He whispers in your ear.
It sends many chills up and down your spine. His voice is thick; it's dark… much like his heart seems to be. The words that graze on the tip of his tongue are sharp – you can't help but wonder if the actual object that rests behind his teeth is just as sharp as his words makes it out to be.
They might as well be.
His long, skinny fingers reach the base of your brunette colored hair, and he bites down hungrily on the sensitive area of your neck – like a starving artist would with paint. Your younger mind is takes a trip through the lust drizzled sensations that dwell inside of your veins. You scream at the sudden tingle as his teeth taps the blue string that holds your blood in place and keeps the cells in motion.
He's a beautiful older man, and you are his ex-cadet. A beautiful man with unique, reptilian eyes that burn with anger, and lust.
You are nothing but a play thing to him – an action figure that reads FRAGILE on the back of your neck.
4.
There's something that I can't quite… explain.
I'm so in-love with you…
… you never take that away…
"You make me feel…" the short-haired brunette opened his mouth to speak, a few words gliding off the tip of his tongue and landing into the air for all those around to hear – which wasn't much. One. Two people. Vickers himself – and Frost. Vickers and Frost… ".. you make me feel…" The older one repeated his words, his yellow tactical vest being toyed with between two fingers and a thumb – the pockets were being abused, along with Brad's thoughts. He wasn't yet able to find just the right words.
"You… me… argh."
"Something wrong?" The blond haired male cocked his head to one side of his shoulders, many strands that stuck out of his most precious red bandana followed along. "You alright there, Chicken Heart?"
"G-god… I-I just…"
Each word squeezed out from behind his teeth, and his tongue danced behind his lips as he continued to ease out the words, "Joseph…"
Oooh; just a few more steps. Take them.
"You make me feel…" He couldn't repeat it again, not one time. No more. "… like I don't have to run away anymore."
His fingers twiddled with his thumbs, and his bottom lip was now being sucked on by himself,
"… like I have nothing to be afraid of anymore."
5.
"Jack…"
"And when did I tell you it was alright to call me by my first name?" The stronger male looked across the table, his cold eyes danced oh so romantically with the scar that held glued to his face, "When? I asked you a question, Kennedy."
"Never." The smaller man squirmed in his seat, not able to watch the other's facial features do the tango with one another. He was attractive, but it was hard to keep eye contact with someone as cold-hearted as him.
"Correct yourself then, comrade, I'm waiting."
"Krauser."
"As you were saying?"
The younger shifted his weight to one side of his body, one leg crossing over the other in an attempt to make himself more comfortable. This meeting wasn't so great.
"Why did you do it?" Why did you betray me like you did? Why did you plot against me. Why did you make me have to… hurt you. Why… aren't you dead yet? I thought I killed you.
So many questions – each individual wanted to be brought up and answered by this being before him. This muscular, supreme man that he had been friends with so long ago. And in a sense, he still was.
"I'm a mercenary." Idiot. "It's something that I don't believe you'll be able to understand – you're still a kid." In my eyes.
"You didn't have to fake your death, kidnap the president's daughter… and…" Hurt me like you did.
The bigger one chuckled, saliva was thrown as he shook his head left to right. As injured as this human being was, he seemed to get around. He was still alive. Leon couldn't believe it, after all that has happened to this strong man; he wasn't human, no, not anymore.
"Still as naive as ever." It was partly true – actions spoke louder than words. But somehow, his simple observation took a deep dagger and impaled Leon Scott right through the chest.
6.
All I do is hide.
I wish that it would just go away.
What would you do… if you knew?
His fingers twitched. He felt nervous, he felt alone. Why, was there a real reason? Only he knew, nobody could understand the indescribable pain the cadet was feeling. He could see; he saw. Those dogs.
No. Those things that looked like dogs. There was no doubt – those Doberman weren't natural. They ripped apart his… one piece by another. Jill Valentine. His respect for the female was shattering, each and every second she stood there, flabbergasted with a gun in her hand. She could have done something about his death; she could have shot those things. Perhaps the blond could have had a chance to live, they could have taken him to safety, and nurture him until he was well enough to re-join the force.
Dammit all. He could have lived. He could have.
The pilot was baffled – just as shocked and scared as Valentine was against those monsters. She. She was rescued. Chris Redfield had a kind heart – and they were both rescued by their once captain, Albert Wesker. He was scared; his comrade was gone and there was nothing he could do to help.
He fled from the scene once witnessing such a tragic death. He felt empty. He would return… later.
7.
He's… sheer perfection. Oh captain – my captain.
How I wish I could be like him – exactly like him. He's so cunning. His training techniques stun me and leave my knees to buckle each time I hear him call my name. I want to run my fingers through his natural, sunny blond hair and kiss away his anger and frustration. I want to whisper to him that I will always be his best man and will always follow him no matter what. I want him to know that he is the best possible captain a cadet could possibly ever ask for. Those sunglasses would be the first to go if I had to lay a finger on him.
I want to see those beautiful eyes of his.
The color and the texture of his skin intrigues me for some odd reason. The pointed end of his nose looks ravishing – he's magnificent.
The way his lips form when he smirks makes my insides melt and I feel like rubber; I'm missing my bones and I feel as if I could fall any second from then. Oh how I wish he would use those long fingers of his to undo my green tactical vest. I want to feel his muscles on mine – Oh Captain. I am nothing compared to you. Won't you teach me how to be worthy?
8.
I'm a man on the run.
An ex-marine just finding a place to hide-out.
There is a large tattoo on my arm – don't mind that.
Mind if I hide out here for awhile?
... No. As long as you clean up after yourself.
It happened like that – never did one think feelings would begin to bloom and bees would attract to the new petals. The pollen. The stinging bee would soon be drawn to the beautiful flower newly in bloom, and suck on the pollen to take to its kingdom and set its new formed honey in the full collection.
The mercenary was kind enough to allow a fugitive in his own captivity. He didn't mind, he had grown attached to the muscle on the man's body, walking around in a towel with his hair drenched in shower water – the water he paid for to keep them both clean.
I hate to be a burden.
No. No not at all.
I'll make it up to you, Olivera.
9.
"I love you."
"…nn… yeah."
Kennedy loved the way his beloved slept – he was so precious. He really was. The way his bleach blond hair slicked back. The short strands tugged back and always revealed his forehead. Unlike his own – the bigger male always seemed to enjoy pushing each strand that held in the front of his eyes behind his ears when they exchanged each other's lips. He seemed so tender with each kiss; yet his exterior appearance could leave one guessing.
He seemed to mumble gibberish plenty when half asleep – he was so cute,
"Krauser…"
The older man opened one eye, peeking at his smaller lover, "… what is it?"
His gaze caused Leon to half-giggle, his voice not feminine enough to be considered one completely, "Nothing."
"Go to sleep."