Misc Re4 Remake Stuff Because Im Patiently Waiting And Normal About It

Screaming, crying, throwing up, going mad even

Bloody Angel

Plagas Leon Kennedy x Reader

Summary: Leon made it back home to his best friend he hasn't confessed to yet, injured like every other time he comes home from a mission. But these injuries prove to be to much for you or him to handle.

Words: 3655

Additional tags: 18+, idiots in love, major angst, hurt/no comfort, minor and major injuries, medical stuff (wound care, mentions of stitches), horror, body horror, blood, gore, graphic descriptions of death, suicide, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Author's note: uh... this was supposed to be like Loverman but sweeter and fluffy. Not this! But I was inspired by @uhlunaro's HOST and DECAY and it went on from there (I really hope you like it!!)

And a fun fact! I cried while writing this - I've never done that over my writing before. This fic has ruined me!

Leon was gone for over a week, thrown into the abyss and barely made it through in one piece. But the mission was finally done. He got Ashley home safely to her family and he made it back home to her. His best friend and roommate, though he wished for more but wouldn't say anything. He couldn't say how he really felt, she deserved someone who didn't disappear for weeks or months at a time with almost no contact. Yet even without knowing how he really felt she was always the light at the end of the tunnel, an angel.

He walked into the house, all the lights were off besides the bathroom one. (Y/N) had to be asleep, at least he hoped. He kept his steps light, discarding his jacket, tossing it on the floor near the door – it could be dealt with in the morning, when he wasn’t so tired he couldn’t think clearly. He undid each strap, taking off the holsters and leaving them on the table to deal with later. All he wanted to do was to fall into bed and not think.

He walked past her room, pausing for a second when he heard movement, wondering if he should say something before she found out in the morning.

"Leon?" (Y/N) asked quietly, turning in the bed and getting up from the bed as she realized who was standing in her doorway. It felt like a dream to see him here again after so long.

"Yeah, it's me," Leon replied. He didn't comment on her state of undress, teasing her like he normally would, standing on his feet took most of his focus. Everything hurt and he just wanted to see her again, to sleep comfortably.

"Are you hurt?" She asked, walking over slowly and taking his hand. The same question as always. It was a greeting of sorts, the first words typically out of her mouth every time he showed back up. No hi, no I missed you, no what happened. She never asked what he did, what his job was, even though he could tell she desperately wanted to know and he was grateful. She saw enough of the aftermath, she didn't need to know the details.

"If I said no would you believe me?" He asked sarcastically, standing still as she grabbed his hand. It was no use to stop her once this started, not that he actually wanted her to stop touching him.

"If you weren't covered in blood, possibly," she replied, looking down at his blood encrusted knuckles. "Where?" She asked, looking back up at him. How she still was still gentle with him despite all the times he annoyed her he didn't know.

"My left arm and side," Leon answered, knowing it was useless to hide any injuries, no matter how inconsequential. "Bunch of bruising on my back too. I don’t think anything is broken."

"Okay," she said, pulling his hand and leading him to the bathroom. He followed along wordlessly, allowing her to work, to move him around however she needed. He sat down in the chair she brought in and began to remove his shirt, trying not to aggravate his injuries further. She placed her hand on his, stopping him so she could do it.

Once she got the bloody shirt off, she tossed it on the floor, turning her attention to the large lacerations on his arm. It was clear he had tried to deal with it, though she couldn't tell if it was dealt with during a fight or if it was just his typical shitty attempt. She frowned at the sight but said nothing. She knew the only answer she'd get from him was "you do a better job" despite how much it frustrated her. She was convinced he did it on purpose just so she would keep taking care of him – an awkward attempt at keeping her around as if she was going to leave. A thought that had never crossed her mind.

Leon watched her as she moved around, grabbing the one box she kept on the sink filled with medical supplies. He knew there were others left around the house, but this one was clearly left here for him. It was always fully stocked and she always had odd colours and patterned bandages. He briefly wondered whether she did it on purpose or not, but knowing her it was on purpose.

"I have to clean it," she muttered, grabbing a damp cloth and moving closer to him, her hand holding onto his bicep underneath the laceration.

"You don't need to do that," he replied as she dragged the cloth over his skin, the cloth turning red as she cleaned off the blood. Leon knew what she was doing, why did she always warn him? Not that he didn't appreciate it, it just confused him.

"What, clean it?" She asked with an eyebrow raised, looking up at him for a moment.

"No, warn me. I know what you're doing."

"It's a habit. Would you rather me ignore you the whole time?" She replied dryly, pulling away long enough to rinse the blood out of the cloth. "Lift your arm a little," she ordered as she moved closer again, going to clean the smaller wound on his side. He did as she asked, keeping quiet as she worked.

She finished up cleaning the blood off, tossing the now dull red cloth into the sink and washed the blood off her hands. "Are you staying?" She asked quietly, turning to the box to grab bandages and other supplies. She hoped he would, but she also needed to know whether she needed to stitch him up. The wounds weren’t as bad as they first appeared and could heal easily if left alone – but only if he could rest.

"Yeah, I'm off for a while," he said with a sigh. He hoped he was, they said he was but his vacations always got cut short. Maybe this time would be different.

He watched her, noticing her hands hovering over the pack of needles. He didn't think his injuries were bad enough for stitches, but she always knew better than he did with this. He never argued with her, she knew how to deal with this better then he did.

"Good," she said, trying to hide a smile as she grabbed a roll of bright pink bandages and a jar of salve. "You're lucky then, you don't need stitches," she added.

"Or you're lucky, you mean," Leon muttered, his lips twitching into a smile as he noticed her light up at his words. She was terrible at hiding her emotions from him. He knew she was happy he was sticking around, that it wasn’t just because she disliked stitching him up.

"Maybe it's both," she muttered, kneeling down so she could see his side properly. "I hate stitching you up," she added, slowly wrapping the bandages over his wounds. 

He said nothing in response. What could he say - sorry? He wasn't sorry. She was the only one he trusted to do this, the only one who he knew would do this no matter how shitty he was to her. Not that he ever meant to hurt her. It just happened sometimes. He didn't have a choice when he had to leave, even in the middle of the night.

"Now turn around, I need to see your back," she said as she finished wrapping his arm and stuck a figure underneath, on the uninjured side, testing the tightness. He held still long enough for her to move her hands before moving around, showing her his bruised back.

"What the hell..." she whispered, dropping the roll of bandages and it rolled over hitting his foot. "Leon, what happened?" She asked quietly, placing her hands over the dark veins and bruising all over his back. His back felt hot to the touch, too hot for just bruising or a strain. His entire back was nearly purple, any veins near the surface of his skin black and she could just barely see them move.

"That bad?" Leon asked dryly, pretending to ignore the fear building up. Trying to hide that he felt like she'd just slapped him, that his throat didn't close up in fear at her reaction.

She never reacted like that - not even when he'd walked into her home and collapsed, nearly bleeding out on her before she could get him up off the floor. She'd call him a dumbass or some random, made up insult while gently taking care of him. She'd snap at him when he told her he left his wounds so she could deal with them then hug him and threaten him if he never made it back to her.

She never showed fear, not outwardly. Not when she was coated in his blood, so close to out of her depth, so close to nearly being unable to help him. His blood nor being able to see into his flesh never made her panic. No matter what she stayed calm, always the calming presence in his life. Soft hands and words, never fear or real anger when he needed her help.

If she was showing it, it was way worse than he thought.

"Leon, do not lie to me. What happened?" (Y/N) asked, keeping her voice steady, though he could hear her voice crack a little. She moved her hand over the darkest spot on his shoulder blade. There was no room for arguments, it was a demand.

"I got… infected. But I'm fine. I was cured, nothing to-" Leon began, getting cut off by her.

"What did you get infected with? Virus? Parasite?"

She was too damn smart for his own good.

"Parasite," Leon answered after a moment, looking over his shoulder at her. He expected her to be upset, to be furious at what hurt him but he never expected to see fear. "What-"

"You didn't get it all out then," she cut him off, looking up at his face. "Hang on, let me," she trailed off, turning and grabbing a hand-held mirror and holding it up so he could see.

It was just like before.

Dark veins scattered across his back, the bruised, achy feeling, the lethargy, all the beginning signs except coughing up blood. Though the more he thought about it, he briefly remembered the coppery taste when he'd woken up on the plane on the way home. How did he not realize sooner?

He couldn't say anything, his voice failing him as he stared at his back in the little mirror.

The parasite was still in him.

"Leon-"

He jumped up, turning around to back away from her. "Don't, you can't," he snapped, backing away towards the bathroom doorway. He had to get away from her before he lost control over his body again. Now he had no idea what to expect if it happened – Saddler was dead, how could the parasite in him even survive without the dominant parasite?

"Leon, it's okay," she replied calmly, holding out her hand to him, trying to calm him down. "We can handle this." He could clearly see how she'd wriggled past all his walls like this, how she always did with her animals. Even panicking, he wanted nothing more than to go to her. He didn't know how she did it. "Leon," she said softly, her hand still held out to him as she took a step towards him, then another and another until she was touching his arms. "I'm going to help you, I'm not leaving."

Leon stared at her for a moment before giving in, wrapping her tightly in a hug. He knew there was nothing to be done now - the parasite matured too much now, but he almost believed something could be done with her words.

"It's going to be okay."

He clung to her, shaking slightly as he tried to wrap his mind around this. There was no going back now, the lab had been destroyed and the procedure didn’t even work. He was out of options but to stand here, holding onto her tightly until it became too much.

***

It took only a few hours for the signs of infection to become noticeable and debilitating. Dark lines snaked around his body and he’d coughed up more blood than he ever had previously.

The bathroom became his spot for now, he couldn’t get far before coughing up more blood and he forced himself to not make more of a mess than he already had after accidentally vomiting on himself after a bad coughing fit.

The pain only got worse as the minutes went by. His back felt like it was on fire, like someone kept stabbing him but the migraine was the worst part, at least right now. The coughing fits caused a headache on its own but the migraine from the infection made it so much worse.

"Get away from me," Leon hissed, weakly pushing her away as he fell to his butt on the bathroom floor. The pain was overwhelming, he could barely speak. He was thankful he was already kneeling on the bathroom floor, he didn’t know if he could handle more pain from falling.

"Leon, stop. Let me help," (Y/N) said calmly, kneeling down beside him and placing her hand on his arm. "I'm not afraid of you, you're not going to hurt me."

"What if- what if I do?" He whimpered, pressing his forehead against the cool floor. The coolness helped soothe the blinding migraine, though it did nothing for the other pain. If he could move his limbs he'd push her away, run, anything to make sure she didn't get hurt or worse, infected. 

But (Y/N) was just as stubborn as he was, maybe more. His weak attempts to wiggle away from her grasp just ended with him pressed up against her side, wrapped under her arm.

"(Y/N)," he groaned, writhing on the floor more, the pain in his back becoming unbearable. He couldn't move his right arm, the shoulder refused to move despite how hard he tried. It felt like he was being controlled like a puppet. The Plaga both the strings and hand, forcing him down and taking what it wanted.

The writhing black mass under his skin shifted and rippled underneath, slowly growing darker and pushing upwards, blotting out the dark veins on his back.

"I'm here," she said softly. "I've got you," she pulled him closer, lifting his head up onto her thigh to keep him from hurting himself more. There was nothing she could do now but keep him as comfortable as possible.

Leon groaned again as the blackness under his skin got closer to the surface. One last push and it burst through his skin, a large tentacle-like appendage with a sharp claw laid on the floor beside him, twitching limply. Blood poured down his back and over (Y/N), coating everything. 

"It hurts," he whined, his arms giving up on him as he fell to the ground, going limp over her lap.

"I know," she murmured, as she carefully wrapped an old t-shirt around the appendage and pressed down, hoping to slow the blood loss. She didn't know how he was even still with her with the amount of blood he'd lost, let alone speaking, though she didn't show that outwardly. "You're going to be okay. I'm not letting you go." She said firmly, leaving him no room to argue.

Leon weakly moved on her, shoving his face on the floor again, needing the cool tile against his forehead. It did little to ease the migraine but he had to try something. The pain was the worst he'd ever felt and there was nothing he could do about it.

She could see another dark spot on his back move, this time on his left shoulder. It moved quicker than the first did. She placed her hand over it, hoping the coolness of her skin would ease the pain but he didn't react to it at all, as if he didn’t even recognize there was a hand on his back. The skin began to tear around it as the dark mass got closer to the surface, pushing its way out.

After a moment it burst out through his skin, causing him to grunt in pain, weakly writhing as it fully emerged from his skin. He didn't have the energy to do much more than twitch as the pain from it overwhelmed him again. It caught his attention when he felt resistance on the appendage suddenly disappear. As if something was holding it back broke.

He laid on (Y/N)'s lap, panting and trying not to hyperventilate.

"Leon…" (Y/N) gasped, the breath forced out of her lungs as she looked down at her chest in shock. The large sharp claw had pushed through her hand and chest, limply hanging down her back. The pain was maddening, yet all she could do was sit there in shock, staring at him, mouth agape.

"(Y/N)!" Leon screamed, yanking himself off of her in horror. What little air was left in her lungs was yanked out as the appendage was torn away, tearing her chest up more, pieces of lung and flesh caught on the sharp tip. All she could do was stare blankly at Leon, her hand resting on her chest, blood pouring over it. He could see through her.

"No, no!" he whined, forcing his limbs to move to drag himself back to her. The pain was overwhelming yet he didn't care. He had to get to her. "I'm sorry, I…" He wrapped her in his arms, her body growing cold against him as more blood poured over him. 

"I love you," she whispered, barely able to make her lips move. Darkness creeped in the corners of her vision, the rest fogged over. She couldn't see Leon now, just a blur of red from their blood. All she could do was hope her confession was enough.

"I love you," Leon murmured, tears falling down his cheeks and onto her face. "Don't leave me, please. You can't!"

(Y/N) raised her hand weakly, placing it on his cheek. It took every ounce of strength left to hold her arm up long enough to touch him, her arm falling back down, leaving a bloody hand print on his skin.

Her body twitched as she wordlessly cried out. Limbs twitching uncontrollably, albeit weakly, she squirmed in his grasp. Leon held her tighter, refusing to let her go despite her slipping through his fingertips.

She cried again, head tossed back and only the whites of her eyes showing. A pitiful, broken sound no living being still clinging to life made.

Then nothing. She slumped down, completely limp in his arms. An empty husk.

"(Y/N)! No, please," Leon cried, holding her limp body tighter. He knew she wouldn't respond but it didn't stop him from trying to wake her. She had to still be with him. She promised she'd never leave him dammit!

Leon laid there sobbing, his head resting in the crook of her neck as her body lay draped over him. He kept a tight hold on her, refusing to let her go even after the bleeding stopped and he was covered in her blood.

Her skin was ice cold by the time he laid her body down on the floor in front of him. She almost looked peaceful now, laying down, eyes still open but dull and lifeless, almost angelic. Blood coated the floor and their bodies, painting her as a bloody angel, left to die from his mistakes.

He didn't say a word, forcing himself to his feet and stumbling to her bedroom. He threw everything out of his way, the mirror on the back of the bedroom door falling and shattering when he shoved it open. The shards of mirror cut into his feet, though he paid no attention to the cuts. None of it mattered now. All he could think of was to grab her desert eagle left in its case under her side of the bed. 

Silver Ghost was closer, left on the kitchen table, still in the holster, just a few steps away from the bathroom floor. Left there until she had patched him up, awaiting his attention, just like every other time. But it wasn't any other time. It had to be her pistol. He didn't know why, maybe a sick sense of justice, that something of hers would fix this, maybe just because it was hers.

Leon shoved the bed sideways and grabbed the case, fumbling with it as he forced it open. He grabbed the pistol and a single bullet before stumbling back to her body. His legs barely worked and he kept tripping over his feet, though he forced his body to keep moving. He fumbled with the pistol as he loaded it. His blood covered fingers made it nearly impossible, it taking far longer than he ever had before.

"I love you," he murmured, dropping to his knees beside her, tears still falling down his cheeks. He sat in front of her, wanting to keep his eyes on her lifeless face. Her eyes stared blankly at him and he wanted to look away but he had to face her.

His last memory had to be of her.

He raised the pistol, the cool, blood covered metal almost soothing the blinding migraine. He pulled the trigger, a loud gunshot rang out, disrupting the silence.

He fell forward onto her, muscles twitching uncontrollably, yet he was silent besides the quiet gurgling as he choked on his blood. The pistol fell onto the floor loudly, landing near her thigh, just barely touching her. Eventually he stilled, laying limply on her just as she did him.

They'd never be apart again.

Kinktober Day 12: Somnophilia

With Polnareff

Cw: somnophilia (obvs), overstimulation, creampie, oral (f recieving), fingering (f recieving)

The last month and a half had been absolutely grueling for Polnareff. Sure, he’d been away from time to time, but never this long, and his trips were never that dangerous. It was safe to say that Polnareff was more than happy to finally be home, to finally be able to let his guard down and see his lady again.

He had returned home around midday, surprising you as you put away groceries, quietly coming in and helping you finish before saying anything. You had screamed in fear, and then excitement as you realized the intruder was your Jean.

“Jean,” you called, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into a deep kiss. He’d backed you against the refrigerator and kissed you until you couldn't see straight before pulling away and greeting you. You had spent the rest of the day catching up with Jean-Pierre and fussing over him, treating the remaining scrapes and bruises that littered his body. You had also cooked his favorite meal for him, despite his protests that you don’t have to lift another finger for him.

The two of you had gone to bed, both thoroughly exhausted by today’s excitement , cuddled up against each other, sleeping in what Jean called ‘French style”, though most just called it sleeping nude. He wasn’t particularly wrong though, Southern France was known for its nude beaches. You fell asleep thinking about how the two of you would have to go on vacation to Nice again now that he was home safe.

Polnareff had woken up early the next morning, sighing contentedly knowing that he had nothing to worry about today except what to wear and maybe what drink he would have with dinner. The rising sun was a rich orange color as it began creeping through the blinds, allowing Polnareff to take you in, tracing his fingers down your side, admiring the slopes of your body, running his large hands along the curve of your ass and down your thigh, eliciting a soft sound out of you. Suddenly he felt as if he had neglected you the night before. A beautiful woman, his beautiful woman had waiters on him all day and he hadn;t even had the decency to eat her out. Where were his manners?

The two of you were very comfortable and sexually liberal when it came to each other. and the list of things you had agreed against was quite short, nothing that would ruin the sheets, mostly . He remembered all the time he had woken up to you giving him sleepy morning head, your plush lips wrapped around his cock, whimpering softly as you bobbed your head, making strands of your messy hair fall in your face. He could always return the favor.

He thought about how much he had missed you as he let his hand fall lazily between your thighs, nudging them apart just enough for him to slide his fingers right where he wanted them. His pointer and ring fingers traced along your labia, while his middle finger dipped between your folds, gathering some of your arousal and returning to slide along your clit, drawing another whine from your lips. When he was finally satisfied with how wet you had gotten under his touch he moved from his place behind you and eased himself between your legs, kissing up and down your thighs before, burying his face where he wanted to be most.

Polnareff was always content to eat pussy, but this was different. It felt like it had been forever since he had made love to you, and he had spent his entire trip terrified he wouldn’t make it home. But he had, and now he was here, listening to the soft sounds of pleasure you were making above him, and the way your thighs squeezed his head and your hands pawed weakly at the sheets had him throbbing and unconsciously pushing his hips into the mattress as he eases two fingers into you. God, you were making such a mess on his face, but he didn’t care, he didn’t want it any other way.

“Jean,” you whine, your hands finally finding his hair and tugging at it gently. He can’t tell if you’re still asleep or not, but he doesn’t care because it's obvious that he’s making you feel good. Finally he decides he can’t take it anymore and and carefully crawls up the bed, resting his weight on the one hand whole the other rubs up and down your side as he dips his head down to kiss your neck, leaving a sloppy combination of your arousal and his saliva as he does. The hand not supporting him moves between your bodies and finds his sensitive erection and lines it up with your entrance, easing into you slowly and groaning when he bottoms out inside you.

He sits up and rests his hands on your waist, his fingers wrapping around your hips and his thumbs rubbing along your belly as he slowly rolls his hips against yours, feeling how wet you are and how well you take him. It’s enough to drive a man to madness.

“Fuck,” He breathes, fighting the urge to just pound into you, but this was about you after all.

“I missed this so much, Jean,” you whisper, drawing his attention away from how horny he is.

“Me too. How long have you been awake, mon chou?”

“Long enough, now come on,” you tease, bumping your hips against his, making him drop his forehead to yours and groan. “Do you want me on top?”

“No, this is about you,” he hums, pulling out and teasing his tip against your clit making your body jerk at the sensation.

“I see. From behind then,” you question, rolling your hips away from him and sliding your leg up to give him a better view of your ass.

“If that’s what makes my lady happy,” he replies, flipping you over and pushing back into you smoothly, one hand squeezing your hip, guiding you into his thrusts and the other pushing a palm into the small of your back, letting him have a deeper angle.

Before you know it you’re a shaking mess beneath Jean, pathetic noises falling from your lips every time his hand brushes against your skin, drool pooling on the mattress beside your head. Every move you make is jerky and uncalculated and your hips rut back against his involuntarily, further overstimulating yourself.

Jean pulls out of you slowly, groaning at the sight of cum oozing out of you, a mixture of his pleasure and yours. It was enough to make him want to go again, but he wasn’t sure he could do that without your brain melting out of your skull, so he just lays down beside you and pulls you back into his body. You whine at the contact, but quickly relax into his arms.

“How was that, mon Coeur,” he questions, brushing your hair from your face and wiping as much of the drool away as he could with his thumb.

“Mhh, Jean, it was s’good,” you slur, grabbing onto his forearms tightly, still trying to ground yourself despite Polnareff’s body pressed against your back. “Was too good.”

“Never heard that one before, I’ll be sure to stop when you tell me not to next time.”

“Jean,” you whine, tilting your head back to get a glimpse of your messy-headed lover.

“I’m kidding, I’m always a servant of love,” he laughs, pulling you closer.

“Jean?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sleepy again.”

“Then we’ll just stay in bed.”

Tramp stamp Leon mod has me thinking…

He’s definitely the type of guy to have arm tats.

He was a young man in the early 2000’s so one arm would probably be tribal, lots of smooth lines coming to sharp points, snaking down his entire arm. The other arm is entirely bare, save for his daughter’s name on his bicep.

He likes to keep it simple but after years of debating, a Chinese style dragon slithers up his toned side, accentuated by the muscles there.

He just looks so good

Not to be TMI but…

I heard a new song for the first time while getting my hair done the other day and that shit has me cooking up something DEVIOUS

Reblog if you think fanfiction isn't a waste of time.

Reblog if you think it’s a good way to practice writing.

Reblog if you have made friends because of fanfiction.

My sister called it a waste of time and I want to prove her wrong.

could you put your longer fics under a read more?

Yes! As soon as I can get tumblr working on my laptop again I’m going to go back and fix that and also some formatting issues

realizing i have. two settings when it comes to leon

1. tie me to a tree menace levels of horny. need him so bad i could kms why isn’t he real

2. forty two page dissertation dissecting every line of dialogue he’s ever said and how each relates to the complex facets of his personality, the extent of his trauma, and expands upon his backstory. my screen is wet because i’m crying. he’s literally a real person

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. They’re siblings your honor

misc re4 remake stuff because im patiently waiting and normal about it