Like A Solid 60% Of Weird Fandom Tropes Were Invented By Women Who Needed Slightly More Avant Garde Ways

ok then... I desire your thoughts on mer!Leon. Go!

Omg wait.. i haven’t thought about this one before but!!!!!

He’s pretty, and he knows it

His shoulder length hair is so very blond, bleached from him lounging in the sun all day.

His tail is blue around the edges and more green/teal in the center.

His shoulders are broad and muscular and his skin is so tan (he’s Italian, of course he tans well)

Despite being confident and suave, he’s definitely a little shy when it comes to actually speaking to human women, and not just making eyes at them.

Speaking of his eyes, they’re such a deep blue, matching both his tail and his home

His top half is completely human, aside from a set of gills just below the curve of his jaw. Sometimes when you reach out to touch his face, your fingers brush against them and he shivers.

He’s adventurous, in every way possible, from asking you to meet him in the most beautiful secluded spots you’ve never knew existed, to the first time he asked to kiss you.

He wasn’t exactly sure how interspecies relations would work so he didn’t even bother thinking about it, but he has absolutely no problem eating pussy.

He’s so upset he can’t go live with you. As much as he hates to admit it, he fell in love with a human.

Brings you shells and little trinkets he finds to remember him by when you’re apart. First thing he brought you was a vase he had found bc he thought it was pretty. It was an ancient Roman amphora. The local authorities do not know you have an artifact on your dresser.

Another time he brought you “his hardest oyster stone”. It was a Nokia.

Loves to go on cute little dates with you

You rented a boat once and he begged to get up there with you, but as soon as he left the water he freaked out and jumped back in.

Maybe one day you’ll move to a small fishing village so the two of you can be as close as possible, who knows.

Gentle Giant

Warnings: piv, oral (f recieving), fingering, size difference

You shriek as your giant husband throws you onto your shared bed, launching himself after you. He catches you as you almost bounce off the mattress and into the floor, pulling you into the safety of his arms. A contented sigh falls from your lips as you snuggle deeper into his broad chest. Jonathan’s breath is warm as it feathers your hair to tickle the back of your neck. You let out a soft giggle and roll over to face him. Despite his calm and collected demeanor, his pupils are blown and his eyes are a deeper blue than usual. You know that he won’t initiate unless you’re totally oblivious to what he wants, so you give him a soft smile before slipping out of your night clothes and moving to straddle his wide waist. “Hm, I thought you’d never figure me out,” he hums, placing himself over you. “We’ve been married for a while now, perhaps I should stop being so shy about these things,” he ponders, leaning down to brush his lips against your neck. “But then again, I like it when you undress me like you do.” His voice drips with gentle teasing as you move your hands to unbutton his shirt and slip it off his broad shoulders. His whole torso is muscular from years of wrestling and Rugby. You push his pants down his hips and he repositions himself to remove them completely.

He lets out a low hum as he brushes his hand up your thigh and brings it to rest on your hip. “Johnathan it’s okay, I promise,” you giggle, guiding his hand to press against your arousal. “Hm, if you say so. Already so wet for me darling, just look at you,” he praises, circling the pad of his thumb around your clit. Johnathan wraps his free arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer and burying his nose behind your ear. “I love you so much,” he breathes, pressing his lips to your jaw. A soft whimper falls from your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck and urge him up to kiss you. He complies to your silent demand before slipping down the bed and resting his head on your thigh. You gasp as he wraps his arms under your knees and pulls you towards him, his face just inches from your pussy. He teases your entrance with his tongue before once again focusing his attention on your clit. You grip his hair and arch your back as he slips two fingers into you, maling you suck in a sharp breath. He works you through your first orgasam with ease, despite how inexperienced he acts when trying to initiate.

“You’re always so good for me darling,” he coos, crawling back up the bed to lay beside you. “Do you want a taste?” He extends his fingers towards you. You gingerly take them into your mouth, sucking them clean, earning yourself more praise from the giant man holding you. “Now, on to the main course hm,” he hums, moving to hover over you. You reach your hands between the two of you to line him up with your entrance, then using it to clutch at his hip as he slowly pushes himself inside. “J-Johnathan,” you breathe, clutching at his broad shoulders, searching for something to ground yourself with “You alright sweetheart?” You bite your bottom lip and nod, encouraging him to start moving. His pace is slow and rhythmic, pushing all the way in before pulling almost completely out and starting anew. You would be lying if you said he wasn’t well endowed. Everything about this man was perfect, why shouldn’t sex with him be too? Once you fully adjust to his size, something you still took time to do, even after four months of marriage, you wrap your legs around him and urge him to speed up. He leans back and holds your hips as he thrusts into you, admiring you. “Hm, look at how well you take me, darling,” he hums, pushing down on the bulge in your lower abdomen, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips. He lets out a groan and pushes down again as your walls flutter around him. “Cum for me sweetheart, you’re being so good for me, now come on,” He encourages, reaching down to massage your clit again. You come undone in his hands and he follows not long after. He pulls out and moves to get a rag to clean you up with, but you pull him back down into the bed with you. “Jojo, I’m naked, if you get up I’ll get cold,” you laugh, hugging his arm. That's all the convincing it takes for him to lay back down and pull you into his warm chest.

autism be damned my girl can operate a wrecking ball

Right Enough for Me

CW: no outbreak, murder, domestic violence, descriptions of violence (Joel’s the good guy, I promise)

This fic is based off the song Wait in the Truck by HARDY and Lainey Wilson

Joel Miller liked to believe that he was a good man, that he tried his damndest to do the right thing, but as he sat in his truck parked by the bank of the Colorado looking down at the still-warm pistol in his trembling hands he’d wondered if he’d done wrong. In the eyes of the law he had, sure, but morally, truly, was it wrong?

He sighs as he climbs out of his truck and walks into the river until it lapped just below the tops of his work boots. It was eight a.m. on a Tuesday. There were no sunbathers, nobody playing in the water, nobody to see him wind his arm back and hurl the gun into the river. Hopefully the lifeblood of Texas would take his sins far east and spill them into the Gulf.

As Joel made his way to his jobsite he couldn’t seem to keep his mind from running. Part of him wanted to clam up and try to forget what he’d done, but another part wanted to clear his conscience. If he went to a confessional they weren’t allowed to go to the cops, but the penance they’d give wouldn’t absolve him. He could probably confide in Tommy, he was sure to understand, but what if he didn’t? Instead he just sighs and wipes the nervous sweat from his brow and goes to decide today's agenda. Despite it all, despite the horrible, horrible events of the morning, he was still the first one to work with ten fresh boxes of Carpenter’s nails and the crisp receipt to go with them. Maybe things would be okay.

One Month Earlier

A knock at the door raises Joel from the breakfast table, wordlessly ruffling Sarah’s hair as he passes on his way to the door. He swings the door wide and lets a dopey smile spread across his face when he sees you with your usual beer can sized rollers still in your hair. He takes notice of the split in your perfectly lined lips.

You weren’t prideful, but he knew you’d be humiliated if he mentioned it. He’d been there before, after all.

“Mornin’ Darlin’,” he greets, waving for you to come in. “We’ve still got plenty if you’re hungry,” he offers, gesturing to the dining room table where Sarah was strategically drizzling syrup onto a sausage link.

“Nah, I’m alright. Already ate with JP. I’ll take some coffee if you’ve got it though”

“Alright then.”

You give him a smile and join Sarah at the table while Joel fixes your coffee just how you liked it, sliding it in front of you before disappearing upstairs.

“Y/n,” Sarah questions, looking up from her plate.

“Yeah kiddo?”

“How’d you meet my dad again?”

“I grew up down the street, but we met ‘cause of you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You was real little when I started watching you, ‘bout three I think. Your dad needed someone to watch you and I’ve been your babysitter ever since.”

“How old were you?”

“Nineteen.”

She grins in response. “Seven years. That’s a long time. Why don’t you marry my dad, he really likes you, plus you’re basically my mom already.”

You cover your mouth in a feeble attempt to not spew coffee all over the naive girl in front of you.

“Honey, you know I can’t. I’m married to JP. He’s a good man.”

Her eyes narrow. “If he’s so great how come I’ve never met ‘em”

“He don’t like rugrats. You done eating?”

“Oh I see how it is, and yes. Can I go watch TV?”

“Go brush your teeth and then we’ll talk.”

“Okay.”

You can’t help but smile as Sarah slides out of her seat and runs upstairs. It was almost seven and you knew she didn’t want to miss the newest episode of Inuyasha. You get up and scrape what's left of her plate into the trash and put it into the dishwasher, smiling to yourself when you hear Joel jogging down the steps in his heavy boots.

“Alright Darlin’, I’m outta here,” he calls, punctuated by the jingling of his keys as he pulls them from their designated hook. “You got her?”

“Always do Joel,” you respond, giving him a lazy grin as you head into the bathroom to finish your hair.

Sarah knocks on the door and you let her in, telling her she can watch TV as long as it isn’t too loud and she already has her backpack together. She thanks you and scampers off, leaving the door open behind her, which was probably for the better since your hairspray was starting to choke you.

After you get Sarah off to school you head to work for another exciting day of taking phone calls and sharpening pencils, then using said pencils to record notes of said phone calls and then do it all over again the next time the phone rang.

Dale had come in again, bug-eyed and skittish as usual, trying his damndest to chat you up despite your obvious disinterest, pressing about how things were with you and JP, if he’d want to have beers with him after work sometime, how your tomatoes were, and on and on. Finally you’d gotten him to get to what he was there for, which was getting his truck's registration update put on file, and you’d promptly shooed him out after everything was squared away.

You’d finally gotten off and picked Sarah up from school, cracking open one of Joel’s High Lifes and propping your bare feet up on the coffee table to watch General Hospital while Sarah worked on her homework. Time crawled on and Sarah finished up and went outside to play on her tire swing before coming in and laying on the floor beside you with her copy of Are you there God? It’s me, Margaret, that you had gotten her last month. You figured you'd stop and get her Starring: Sally J Freedman as Herself next. It was always your favorite.

Around five fifteen you had called JP and let him know that you were going to be late getting home since there was no sign of Joel and he still hadn’t called. He’d gotten upset, so you just told him you loved him real sweetly and hung up and started dinner for Sarah.

Finally Joel got home around six and thanked you for staying late.

When you’d gotten home JP was furious, backing you into a corner and shouting into your face, calling you every name under the sun for God knows how long before he got bored and went back to the couch, demanding dinner and a beer.

JP had been a decent man for so long, you dated throughout highschool, parted ways, reconnected and got married at twenty-four. Things had been falling apart the last couple months and it had you looking for an out, hell you had the divorce papers shoved in your trunk under the spare tire, you were just too scared to tell him what you wanted, scared he wouldn’t let you leave, on the sunny side of a black bag at least. He got in your face like that for some reason or another at least three nights a week, and he'd busted your lip the night before over dinner being late. You knew it was too late to fix whatever you two used to have.

Things cooled off after that for about a week, then he came home drunker than a skunk and when you’d gone to get the mail the next morning you’d noticed a giant dent in his back bumper and that the front of his truck was barely an inch from the side of the trailer. You’d quietly made breakfast and went and woke JP when it was ready. He’d staggered his way into the kitchen and flopped into one of the chairs at the table.

“JP did you back into something last night?”

“What does it matter, woman?”

“You ain’t supposed to drive like that, you could’a hurt somebody, you could’a gotten hurt.”

“Last I checked this was a free country.”

“Last I checked, it's illegal to drive drunk.”

“Its only two miles back from Wyld’s”

“You almost drove through the damn house, JP.”

He’d risen sharply from his chair and come around the table, following you as you’d backed away from him. “C’mere, don’t act all scared now,” he growled, catching you by the arm and spinning you to face him and landing a heavy slap across your cheek. His breath still reeked of booze, and the look in his eyes told you that he was still extremely drunk, and that was probably what was keeping him from winding back on you. He was almost never drunk when he’d hit you.

“Teach you to fucking get smart with me again, bitch.”

It had only gotten worse from there, angry red marks became black eyes and hand-shaped bruises around your elbow that you’d so masterfully covered with more makeup than a Rodeo Queen, blotting your eyes when they’d water, and wearing those big sunglasses of yours as much as possible.

Joel had invited you and JP to a cookout at his place later that week and you’d both gone. JP played nice with the Millers and their friends until Tommy jokingly referred to you as ‘Sara’s new mama’ and then he’d dragged you inside, growling accusations under his breath at you while you tried your damndest to tell him that Tommy was just poking fun because you’re always looking after her. You open your mouth to tell him he didn’t mean nothing by it, but before you can speak he’s grabbed you by a fistfull of Texas-sized curls and you don’t have time to put your hands out before your face collides with the cold tile of the kitchen counter.

JP turns you loose and you stagger back a couple of steps, resting against the fridge to steady yourself as your vision swims, tinnitus setting in louder than it's ever been, and you’re vaguely aware of the warm ooze crawling down your top lip.

Finally your vision steadies some and you see that JP is gone. You wipe your nose on the back of your hand and feel around for fractures while you look around slowly, trying to remember where you are when you see Joel standing at the foot of the stairs

“How long’s he been doin’ that to you,” Joel questions, taking your clean hand and leading you into the bathroom, easing you to sit on the lid of the toilet and closing the door.

“It keeps bleeding,” you murmur, complying when Joel puts a wad of toilet paper in your hand and brings it to your nose, gently urging you to look down.

“You need to go to the hospital,” he informs you, steadying your chin and inspecting your eyes.

“I’m okay.”

“He slammed your face into the counter.”

“You seen that?”

“I heard it. You still bleeding?”

“No.”

“I’m gonna go get you some ice, just try to stay awake.”

“‘M’kay.”

He returns with a rag full of ice and gently presses it to your forehead in a couple places before focusing on your nose.

“I love you Joel,” you slur, finally giving into your heavy eyelids.

“No. No, hey. Look at me.” He taps at your cheek, sighing with relief when your eyes weakly flutter open again.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ. I’m calling nine-one-one,” he mutters, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone.

Your hand flies out and grasps his wrist as harshly as you can manage, making your head throb. “No, mhmh, can’t. He’ll kill me if he knows anyone knows.”

“Then we’ll just tell everyone you slipped and hit your face on this sink here, how’s that?”

“I…don’t know.”

“Listen I can keep him away from you, but you’re goin’ to the hospital and that’s that.”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

You don’t remember much of what happened after that, but JP never found out that Joel knew, and Joel was pissed when you’d left the hospital and had him take you back to that trailer instead of letting him take you down to your parents in San Antonio like he wanted to.

“Honey, please let me take you to your mama.”

“Joel…”

“He didn’t even bother to come get you.”

“I gotta be strategic about this. He’s crazy. He’s got boys in Galveston that make it snow all over the state with guns you can’t buy.”

“Fuck, Jesus, fuck. Girl, what have you gotten yourself into?”

“I don’t want to think about it right now.”

“I’ll think about it for you.”

Current Day

JP hadn’t put his hands on you in the week you’d been out of the hospital, which was likely because the bill you’d been sent home with was more than hefty. Life was so close to back to normal, sending him off to work and looking after Sarah, who believed the sink story that Joel had made up for you.

Joel.

You’d finally said it that day, what you’d been feeling all those years but too scared to say, words that could have saved you all this trouble if you’d just said them sooner, sitting there in his bathroom thinking every word out of your mouth would be your last, you’d told him. You hoped he felt the same, but maybe he just thought it was delirium.

You’d decided to go home for lunch today since you’d forgotten to pack one and your deli meat was about to expire. When you pull into your driveway you’re surprised to see JP’s truck sitting there in the driveway. A dread bubbles up in your belly, but you steel yourself and climb the stairs to your door.

It’s unlocked. Weird.

You go inside and go straight to the fridge, pulling the meat, cheese and mayonnaise out, spinning around and closing it with your hip. As you look up your hands jerk, leaving everything you were holding to the mercy of gravity as you let out a scream. Your right hand reaches out, finding the wall to steady yourself, tapping around, seeking the phone before finding it and pulling it from the hook and calling the cops.

You explain the situation to the operator as best you can, periodically looking over your shoulder to make sure that you’re not just seeing things, but every time you look, JP’s still laying in the bedroom floor, his eyes wide and glassed over, staring directly at you, blood seeping into the creme colored carpet and flowing with the bow of the floor onto the dark linoleum of the hallway.

Finally the cops show up and start their investigation while one officer pulls you outside for questioning. After the investigators have all they need from the body, the coroner shows up and carts JP off.

They told you you couldn’t be there while they continued so you went back to work. You told your boss why you were late getting back and he told you to take the rest of the day, but you couldn’t go home, so you went to Joel’s.

You spend the rest of the time before you have to go get Sarah thinking about a lot of things. Finally your mind settles and you realize that no matter what, he can’t hurt you again and that’s good enough for you.

When Joel gets home you already have dinner made and Sarah’s finishing up setting the table. You can tell by the look of him that there’s some weight on his shoulders, but you can’t place why. You’d surely know before the end of the day. Joel was never one to keep things from you.

He thanks you and asks if you’re staying. You nod and take a seat, gesturing for him and Sarah to fix their plates first. After your own plate is settled, you reach out your hands.

“I think we should pray.”

Joel gives you a funny look but still takes your hand and bows his head. You can feel him knock his foot into Sarah’s and she takes your hand too.

You pray silently and signal your finish with an audible “Amen,” which the Miller’s echo.

“What’s got you feelin’ Grace again, Darlin’,” Joel questions, raising another forkful of meatloaf to his mouth as he speaks.

“Mysterious favors, I reckon.”

He shrugs and tries to give you a smile despite his concerned expression.

“Fair enough.”

After dinner is put away and Sarah’s been tucked in by the both of you, it’s just you and Joel downstairs, sitting at the dining room table in awkward silence, looking up at each other when you can’t stand the silence anymore.

“Joel,” you question, meeting his eyes with your own. They’re darker than usual and the lines around his eyes seem much deeper than they did the day before.

“Yes, Darlin’?”

“JP’s dead. I went home for lunch and…found him.”

“I’m sorry that you saw that. That’s God-awful.”

Something you’ve never felt bubbles up inside you, heavy, sore and unknown, not fear, not anger, but something dangerously toeing the line between them and something positive. There was nothing God-awful about finding someone who had died naturally, sad maybe, but not horrible. God-awful was ruined carpet and a gray splatter across the side of the dresser. Joel knew what you had seen.

It was always Joel, no matter what problem you had, he would take care of it.

“Joel?”

“Yes?”

You drop your voice to a whisper, scared that someone will hear, despite being in his home, terrified that he’d lose it all over you. “Did you do it?”

He drops his gaze from yours. “Did I do the right thing?”

“It’d been me if you didn’t.”

“That’s right enough for me.”

Tears well up in your eyes as they finally meet his gaze again. “I’ll protect you too.”

His eyes fall shut and he sighs, dropping his shoulders.

“No matter what I know you got Sarah.”

“I won’t have to. What’d you do with it? Was it yours?”

“It’s on its way to the Gulf, and no, dug it up on a site last year. Never did know why I kept it. Reckon I’m glad I did though.”

You take his rough hand in yours and squeeze, giving him a soft smile as you get up from the table. He follows without hesitation.

“Joel, I gotta get going.”

“You ain’t scared of me, are you,” he questions, his expression pained, his eyes silently pleading with you.

“I’d never be scared of you, no matter what you do. That day in the bathroom, that wasn’t the concussion talking. I meant what I said.”

Joel’s breath catches and his hand tightens around yours, lifting your arm even with your shoulder. Your fingers stiffen instinctively, and then relax as he presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist and then lets go.

You start making your way to the door and like always, he follows, opening the door for you and leaning on it. His face lacks its usual crooked smile, it’s somber as you step out onto the porch and turn to face him.

“Thank you, Joel.”

“Darlin’?”

“Yes, Joel?”

“Will you pray for me?”

“I’d do anything you asked me to.”

“Be safe gettin’ home, okay?”

“Always do” you call, making your way down the walkway to your car, noticing how Joel watches from the door as you duck in, only closing the door when you start backing out of the driveway.

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.

Thank you so much!! It really means so much to me when people let me know that what I write resonated with them in some way.

/gen

Leon Kennedy is traumatized

I love the Leon fluff as much as the next guy but

He’s a great boyfriend but sometimes he doubts himself so much he makes himself distant.

He’s always the big spoon because he can’t imagine not being able to protect you, even while he’s sleeping.

Most of the time it’s hard for him to sleep, so he just lays there holding you, stroking your hair and reminding himself that you’re real and you’re safe. Usually that’s enough to relax him enough to finally be able to fall asleep.

After being with him for so long you’ve learned to tell when he’s having nightmares and wake him up before he wakes himself up. If he starts himself awake he either holds you so tight you can barely breathe, or gets up and locks himself in the bathroom, but either way, he doesn’t speak.

Begs you not to leave him, even though you’ve never even thought about it. He’s so scared he’s going to push you away and make you leave. He needs you to know that he needs you.

Physical touch is very important to him. He worries that if he’s not touching you you’ll disappear. When you’re at home he leans against you while you sit together, or he wraps his arms around your waist from behind, chin on your shoulder as he watches your hands work on whatever it is you’re doing.

In public he’s always holding your hand, or if you’re out to dinner he stretches his leg out to be able to rest it against one of yours.

When he cries, you hold him, squeezing his shaking shoulders and telling him that everything’s okay, that he’s safe.

When he has to go on a mission he makes sure to hold you extra tight before he leaves, and you always promise you’ll be right there waiting for him.

Sometimes he just calls Ashley and hangs up as soon as she answers, not wanting to really talk to her, just making sure she’s actually alive and safe.

It takes him weeks to decompress from a mission. He’s always on edge, jumping at the smallest sounds. He pulled a knife on you once while he was cooking because he didn’t hear you come in.

He was absolutely inconsolable after that, he just felt so guilty. He almost left you because he was scared it would happen again and he would actually hurt you

Considers therapy but realizes it’ll never work because everything that’s happened is classified.

Develops a bit of a drinking problem the older he gets. It’s just gets so much harder for him to bounce back mentally the more he goes through and he doesn’t know what to do.

Hopes he’ll live long enough to retire, but also kind of hopes he’ll die on a mission, but not really, but maybe you’d be better off without him, but he’d still feel bad leaving you behind.

I know the polls over, but the results? Ashley would totally be trying to get the Mary Kay pink Cadillac

Poll: Which female Resident Evil character is most likely to fall for a pyramid scheme?

I had a different poll planned for today but the thought of this actually happening made me laugh so here it is.

Falling for a pyramid scheme could happen to any of us... right?

No?

Well, it's gonna happen to one of these gals.

"Winner" goes on to face the "winner" of the male poll so make sure to vote in both!

yeah uh... don't do this :)

I’m so fucking toasted but I hope this makes sense

Fyi guys I'll never write anything explicit for Damian Wayne bc I see him as my son that I tuck into bed and smooch on the forehead every night.