Hi!! If you’re reading this, then you’re most likely into Creepypastas. So am I!!! What a coincidence!!
I’ve recently written the story of my own oc, and i would love to share my work with the rest of the community.
I’m not the best writer, i know that, but i want to express myself and get this story out there. :]
Last thing before i get on with the story!!!
A few things to note is that it is quite short i think, compared to other creepypasta stories at least. And another is that my oc is meant to be paired with for ticci toby. He will be in the story briefly but it’s not explicitly stated what their relationship is so take it as you want to. (I will ship them dearly but thats just me)
English is not my first language!!
That’s all!! Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated ;)
January 1st, 2000
The sharp clicking of heels was all the little girl could focus on as she trailed on behind her mother, small hand in her tight grasp.
This was part of the usual routine for 6 year old Veronica Hills, walking the pristine white halls of what she presumed to be some sort of private hospital, with her mother.
It was always empty when she was here, no patients in sight, just people in white coats scurrying around like their life was on the line.
And maybe it was. See, her parents were well established scientists, praised for their work in the field. They had the say around here, and Veronica knew well that they didn't like being dissapointed.
She knew that she was only a vessel for their project, their next big revolution in science.
"Pick up your feet, Veronica." Her mothers stern voice echoed through the hall, and the girl straightened her back, paying more attention to the way she walked.
She frowned once they reached the heavy steel door, her mother pushing it open with ease and ushering her inside. "Just a check up. Sit down on the bed, I'll check your vitals." She ordered dryly.
The check up went as usual, typical fpr the average 6 year old. Until her mother turned crouched down to her height, hands resting on her knees. "You need to start talking, Veronica." She said firmly, but was met with nothing but silence.
Veronica averted her eyes, staring down at her feet swinging off of the table. She's always had trouble speaking, practically mute and only able to talk to people she trusts. That was the thing, her parents were basically like strangers, cold and easily agitated. They didn't see her as their daughter, meerly a test subject - they didn't even love eachother. They married for social status.
Her mother clicked her tongue in annoyance, standing back up to her full height. "You do realize that you could have anything you wanted, right? If you just spoke."
Veronica gave a shy nod, hands bunched up in her lap, throat feeling tight. She wanted to speak, of course she did. But she couldn't.
~~~~
November 5th, 2008
Hands stuffed into her pockets, 15 year old Veronica Hills made her way around the courtyardof her school, ducking her head slightly to make sure she went unnoticed.
School was never easy for her, grades average at best and communicating with teachers or her peers a living nightmare.
Her speech got better with age, but it was still difficult to get the words out, stumbling and stuttering over words if she tried to speak up, never loud enough to be heard.
She perked up slightly when she heard a soft thud in front of her, a boy walking ahead of her dropped his wallet.
Seeming to not have noticed it, cursing under her breath she picked it up, building up the courage before hesitantly tapping him on the shoulder.
He spun around, dark brown eyes trying to make out her intentions, he frowned, letting out a small huff. "A-are you going t-to-" He paused, stuttering over his words a couple times befpre continuing, "-To make fuh-fun of me?" He held his hands close to his chest, worn out bandages wrapped messily around his hands.
Veronica paused, she recognized the boy. Toby Rogers, an underclassmen just a year below her. She frowned. It was hard not to notice him, poor guy constantly getting picked on by their peers.
She shook her head, struggling to get the words out of her mouth. "Um..." She blinked, awkardly holding up the wallet for him to see. "You...you dropped this." She finally forced out, internally cringing at how meek and quiet she sounded.
Toby raised his brows in surprise, reaching out with his hand to take the wallet from her hands. "Thanks." He mumbled, haphazardly shoving it into his back pocket.
Veronica nodded, eyes trailing off as a shiver wracked through her body, the cold november air harsh against her skin.
"Oh, h-here." Toby shrugged his jacket off his shoulders, holding it out to her. "You look cold a-and..." He trailed off awkardly. "I can't really...f-feel the cold anyway."
She smiled gratefully, taking the jacket from him and slipping it on. "Thank you."
She only saw him one other time after that. He'd stopped going to school and she ran into him in the street that next summer. He sheepishly explained that he was getting homeschooled now, and she wished him well.
The next time she saw him was on the news three years later.
~~~~
September 21th, 2011
Veronica always felt a certian sense of dread on her birthday. Every year was one closer to her fate. She's heard her parents talking about it, found notes in her dads office when she was little. Her 18th birthday was today, and they were ready to start.
Her parents were always very vague about what their project even was. Something about a new species they wanted to create, it made a pit form in her stomach on what that could mean. But she's accepted it, she hasn't done any significant in her life. No love, no job, no aspirations, her whole life has been leading up to this day.
And she was terrified.
She stayed in her room all day, as long as she could, trying to keep her mind busy untill the inevitible. Until her father padded down the hall and cold her to follow him.
She took a slow breath, pushing herself up from her desk and following him out her bedroom door, down the stairs, and eventually down the basement.
The grimy walls were painted a blinding white, a white that reminded Veronica of the hospital her mom would take her to. in the middle of the room stood a tall hospital bed. There stood a tall fullbody mirrior as well as a messy whiteboard off to the side, barely coherent words scribbled down in dried out marker. She could faintly make out the words "mermaid species"but the rest was like gibberish to her.
She took another deep breath, until she felt a presence behind her. Before she could turn around she was already knocked out.
When she woke back up, the first thing she noticed was the searing pain rippling all throughout her body. Her breathing was heavy, panic shooting through her body as she sat up.
She looked around the room, parents nowhere to be seen as she stood up from the bed, legs wobbly like a fish out of water as she padded over to the mirror.
Her breath hitched when she saw herself, skin turned a pale blue and her hair a dark navy. Teeth now razor sharp and peeking out over her lips just a little. Long, siren like ears and gills on her neck. She turned slightly, quickly spotting the long shark like tail perched on her small of her back.
The experiment worked. And she lived through it.
What did they do to her?
~~~~
November 5th, 2014
It's been three years since Veronica's life was flipped upside down, and it's been hell ever since.
Her parents have been parading her around like a zoo animal since, winning multipile medals and getting endless praise while she suffered through the changes she endured.
It was hard. She was no longer fully human, and was gawked at every moment of her life. People paid to go into her house, she how she behaves, how she lives. It was exhausting.
She's been taking more walks in the woods to escape it all, walking until the sun went down and up again. Occasionally she's find papers stuck clumsily to trees with a thumbtack. She brushed it off as kids trying to be creepy.
Until they started appearing everywhere. And they started getting more personal. Things that no one but she knew about herself. She was getting headaches and she could've sworn that she saw a faceless being in the trees.
Whatever this was it was giving her signals. Whispering to her and never leaving her head.
It was telling her to do unthinkable things, to harm her parents and everyone in that town that has done her wrong. She couldn't hold it back any longer.
She wrapped the dark jacket around herself tightly, it still fit all these years later. She padded into the kitchen and slipped a knife into her pocket.
Her parents were first. She snuck up behind her mother, clasping a hand over her mouth before slitting her throat.
Her mouth felt dry, the throbbing in her head worsening and her body moving on autopilot as she trailed to her fathers office.
She swallowed nervously as she creaked open the door, blood splattered across her face.
"Not now, Veronica. Can't you see I'm busy?" He mumbled scruffly, eyes focused on his computer screen before looking up. His eyes widened one he saw his daughter, covered in blood and knife clutched tight in her hand. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He pushed himself out of his chair, backing away once she stepped closer.
"This is your own fault, dad." She frowned, brows furrowing. All her repressed anger lashed out as she sprinted towards him, sinking the knife into his abdomen over and over again until he collapsed.
She took a few steps back, vision blurry as she turned to leave the study, exiting the house.
She remembered who stared, who payed, who pried and proded. And it was over in a flash.
The next thing she knew she was stumbling back into the forest, tall slender entity in front of her. Though he had no face, he appeared satisfied, reaching his bony hand out to her.
Veronica gulped, taking his hand as her head throbbed with pain, before she was infront of a mansion.
The slender figures hand still in hers, she noticed someone chopping wood out front with an axe, her paused, and turned to look over at them, dark brown eyes spotting the jacket almost instantly.
Written on the tag inside were the initals Toby R.
Humans are imperfect, and gross, and any normal body function can give them complexes. Sometimes it feels so very lonely to like these characters – they have the fictional character kind of perfection, where we only see them in the best light. In an effort to bridge that gap, here’s some headcanons about their flaws.
Not only do you have my permission, but I also encourage you to reblog this with your own headcanons ! Add some or create some for characters that I didn’t explore !
A big thank you to those who answered my post asking if you would be interested in these headcanons and encouraged me to write it : @hircines-hunter, @if-dreams-do-come-true, @doriancmajor, @fauna-stray, @wannabe-rotten-sunflower !
WARNING : I didn’t hold back or romanticize this. Some of these are straight up gross. But I think we all do gross things.
Characters: Leon, Chris, Albert, Ethan, Carlos, Luis, Krauser, Heisenberg.
Leon S. Kennedy
Stinky feet. Has to spray his shoes twice a day.
Doesn’t change the sheets nearly as often as he should. He hates doing it and he doesn’t care, and he rationalizes that he doesn’t sleep there often enough to warrant the effort.
Used to have terrible acne as a teenager and still has acne scars on his face and back. Used to wear foundation to hide them when he was younger ; the stubble in Requiem is his new way to do so.
Picks at his nails (sometimes with his combat knife).
Honestly terrible at small talk. He relies a lot on witty one-liners because he has no idea how to be casually genuine. He feels insanely awkward every time. Weather talk at the bus stop is his worst nightmare.
Looks for his phone when it’s in his hand. This happens a lot, with mutliple objects.
Completely clueless about any internet culture. Doesn’t actually care. Your unimpressed grandpa. He does feel lonely when surrounded by people talking in memes.
Greasy hair. Needs to wash it almost every day, with special shampoo.
Chris Redfield
Sweats like a sinner in church. Like full on drenched. He has a big wardrobe, only because he needs to change shirts all the time.
Pees in the shower. He thinks it’s just more efficient and the soap’s going to wash it all away anyway.
If he lives alone, he also pees in the sink in the middle of the night when he’s smoking at his window and too tired to go to the toilet. Will sigh contentedly while doing so.
A little insecure about cigarette breath, so he always has tic-tacs with him. Doesn’t realize that it just makes a very strong mixed smell of menthol and nicotine.
Bad case of RBF. Scares children and old ladies. Will not admit it, but he is a bit sad about that.
Bad short-term memory outside of life and death situations. Needs to write everything down. His notes app is full and his google calendar is stuffed.
Falls asleep in front of the tv, full dad mode. We’re talking neck fully bent over the back of the couch, mouth open, loud snoring and maybe even drool.
Thinks only PS1/PS2 era games are good, everything else is trash.
Suggested by @wannabe-rotten-sunflower and I agree : his colon can’t handle spicy food very well, even if he likes spicy. Will regularly drop bombs in your toilet.
Albert Wesker
Thinks he has a small dick and is angry-insecure about it. If you talk about it you get punished.
The glasses aren’t for show. He has bad eyesight – astygmatism. He won’t admit it.
Huge fan of garlic, to the point that sometimes his sweat smells garlic-y.
Stress-induced psoriasis. He has to slather himself in lotion every time he takes a shower or washes his hands.
Anger issues even before Umbrella – he got kicked out by roomates for putting his fist through the walls one too many times in college.
Only listens to instrumentals, no singing whatsoever. Feels very excluded from every discussion about music because of that.
Talks during movies/tv shows/theater/whatever.
Genuinely terrible at video games.
Bad circulation : cold hands, cold feet, varicosed veins. Has to wear socks in bed during winter, otherwise his feet will stay ice cold through the night.
Carlos Oliveira
Stretch marks. He hit a sudden growth spurth in his teenage years. Doesn’t like to show them much. Would rather you didn’t look at them for too long.
Family trait has his hair going white fairly young. He’s very insecure about that and colors his hair. He doesn’t feel like he has lived enough to be « old » yet.
Rinses the dishes with water and deems them good enough to eat with again, unless the water isn’t enough to remove all the food.
A bit of a fratboy diet. He has a physical enough job that he’s always famished and also too tired to cook.
The kind of man who lets the dog lick his mouth and kisses you right after.
Lactose intolerant + can’t give up pizza = this man will destroy your bathroom once a week.
Needs to do 2 things at once to be focused, otherwise his mind will wander.
Can’t read an analog clock to save his life.
Chronic oversharer. You’ve known him for half a day and he’s already telling you about his childhood trauma.
Luis Serra
Abandonment issues that he deals with by being suave. If he attracts people like flies but also doesn’t open himself to an actual, deep, emotional relationship, he’ll be safe. He’s actually completely terrified of being in love and honest and vulnerable with someone.
Literal ugly duckling. He used to be the kid bullied for his appearance, but then puberty turned him into a swan. When he looks in the mirror, he alternates between feeling like an incubus and seeing all of his flaws from childhood that didn’t completely disappear.
Still has acne spurts from time to time, and he can’t help but pop all of his pimples.
Don’t ask him for his last bill. It’s in the growing pile of papers that he swears is organized.
Mental health dependant on cigarettes.
Acid reflux – he has dead rat breath in the morning.
Throws away the manual because « he doesn’t need it ». Fumes about how they don’t give manuals anymore when he ends up needing it.
Has too much meme knowledge. Will go 6-7.
Ethan Winters
Patchy beard, which is why he doesn’t grow it. Of course, he had an awkward beard phase where he tried to force it to happen at one point that he would rather not talk about.
Receeding hairline. Complexed as fuck about it. Sees it so much more than anyone around him does. Doesn’t realize that if he didn’t bring it up, people genuinely wouldn’t know.
Gets sunburnt in minutes. Has to carry sunscreen everywhere. He feels very silly when he has to be slathered in white just to enjoy a beach day, but he forgets about it soon enough.
Gassy but ashamed about it.
Has been known to sniff already worn pieces of clothing to assess their wearability.
Has a stuffed animal from his childhood in his bedroom. He doesn’t sleep with it but it’s there and it needs to be there. You can take it from his cold, dead hands (except for Rose, who gets borrowing privileges).
Has trouble falling asleep. Will stay up reading or doing something soothing until 3 am frequently. Is very worried that he might disrupt his partner’s sleep.
Cringe in an « uncle trying to relate to the teenagers at the family function » way. Half-awkward half-cute.
Dyslexic.
Panic attacks since the games’ events.
Jack Krauser
Hairy as a bear. He hates it and he spends hours in the shower shaving everything, but he can’t reach his back.
Burps loud. Stays impassible. Simply doesn’t give a shit.
His own stink is comforting to him. Will take good whiffs of his own sweat. Will also sniff you when you finish your workout. Unashamed about it.
Has sleep apnea : snores like a lumberjack until he stops breathing, then jolts awake so violently he smacks/kicks you.
Messy af but can always find what he’s looking for. If you clean up he can’t find anything anymore and gets frustrated.
Only watches historical stuff and thinks all fiction is for children.
Bad with technology in general. Doesn’t have a smartphone but if he did, he’d be the kind of man to type with his index finger.
Will forget to eat when focused on something. Thinks eating/sleeping is a waste of time.
Drinks until he throws up. Then does it again. He somehow looks sober even when he’s blackout drunk.
Karl Heisenberg
Has the biggest eyebags you’ve ever seen. Dark and deep and sinking. The glasses help hide them, even if he says it’s only to protect his eyes from flying sparks when he works.
Doesn’t wash his hands after peeing, unless he really got some on them.
Smoker’s teeth.
Picks his nose sometimes. Also the kind of person to finger-catapult his boogers.
Leaves his trash laying around in the factory, and would do it at home too. Don’t count on him to pick up his underwear off the floor, darling.
Will take a piss through one of the factory windows and laugh while doing it.
Rough, broken hands. Between the tinkering and the cigars, he started wearing gloves too late.
Terrible reading comprehension (he’s too impatient). Pisses on the poor frequently.
Thinks he can assemble ikea furniture without the instructions. He can’t.
Awful sense of style. Do not introduce him to hawaian shirts.
Touch starved but also scared of gentle touch. He feels sick when he’s being cared for.
Notes: since I’m stumped on the zombie series decided to do this request! Def not in love with it but hopefully it’s decent enough for the request:) also I think over 7k words sorry(^｡^) I was imagining re4! Leon
Warnings: angst and some more angst, reader hurts herself, depression, feelings of worthlessness and probably suicidal thoughts, hurt/comfort, probs ooc Leon bc he’s so comforting, blood, past abuse
Time slowed down. The air in the kitchen was suddenly too thick, each breath feeling unsatisfied yet overwhelmingly suffocating. An abrupt intense sensation of heat flashed through you, spreading through your neck, your chest, your face. Sweat prickled at your hairline. Your vision blurred and your hearing became muted, the only feeling you were keenly aware of was the increasingly heavy pound of your heart.
You didn’t think you could breathe, so mentally far away you weren’t even mindful of your progressively shallower breaths. Your unfocused gaze was unable to stray away from the crinkled envelope, fingers so sweaty little damp spots had formed on the paper. You were going to be sick, vision starting to swarm, room starting to spin.
Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. An easy enough pattern to follow so why was it so hard?
There was a sinking feeling in your gut. The kitchen you were in suddenly didn’t feel like your own as your surroundings began to melt away. Nothing exists for you here, solely the overwhelming feeling that something is wrong.
The ticking of the clock was too loud, the distant ringing in your ears a close second.
“I don’t- I don’t get it,” the only words you could form, breath heavy and strained. Unwanted and suppressed memories you fought years to keep buried away flashed in quick spurts in your mind, one after the other.
With clammy hands you ripped the note, feet moving to shove it deep in the trash below unknown substances that would be sure to hide the cursed thing. You paced before slamming your eyes shut and bracing yourself against the granite counter top, knuckles white.
“You’re okay, you’re okay- you’re fine,” you tried, voice choppy and breaking around the edges. It hurt to speak, throat tight and constricting almost as if you had some sort of allergic reaction.
There was a heavy hit to the back of your skull, head forcibly turned at an awkward angle so that your cheek dug into the ground, pieces of gravel cutting soft skin. Fingers desperately trying to find purchase in the ground, no time to fully think through what was happening, there was someone’s hand in your hair yanking your head up. You were pathetically sobbing you think, babbles of things that didn’t make sense tumbling from your split lip as snot ran down your face. He-
Your eyes flew open, throwing yourself away from the counter top so fast your black slammed into the cabinets behind you, rattling and groaning on impact. You looked around the room trying to find those familiar faces. There was no one. Just you.
You raised your hands to shakily cover your eyes, throat burning as you shoved the palms of your hands so deeply into your eyes you saw little flashes of stars. Your cheeks were wet.
Get out of my head, get out of my head, get out of my head.
You weren’t expecting this. There was no time to prepare, no time to ready yourself for the thoughts that would no doubt shake you. You wish you could’ve handled it better, but you couldn’t wrap your mind around the reason for the letter. Why are they doing this? How had they managed to reach you here?
An ugly sob broke free, echoing in the emptiness of your home. You’re not there anymore so why did it still feel like it?
Unsteady fingers dug into your hair, yanking and tugging to feel anything other than what you felt now. Your nails clawed at your scalp.
With no Leon to help you, the feeling of hopelessness persisted and washed over you like a harsh truth. It Felt like you were uselessly grasping on to something that would inevitably go under and no doubt take you with it. There was already water in your lungs.
Sharp cry’s fell from your lips, no attempt to keep them in. You couldn’t even try. The memories that flooded over you had been kept away for so long that they all trampled you at once.
You prided yourself on being strong, independent, selfless. But they took everything from you. They stripped you of your being, from ever being confident of who you were, of who you thought you could become. Every ounce of who you were was taken time and time again from you with no regard for how you would fair. You’d spent so long trying to survive them, you didn’t even know what was left of you.
Things has become better with Leon who you devoted to keeping in the dark about the real reason of your struggles. Leon had his secrets and you had yours.
From the months he had known you, he had rebuilt you from the ground up, slowly but steady, reinforcing you with a solid foundation that could supposedly withstand anything. It was embarrassing how wrong you were.
With one measly letter, they managed to ruin what you worked so hard on. They were like fingers digging into a bruise, a welt, salt on a wound. You didn’t even care how they had succeeded in finding your address.
Panic and misery turned into a gut deep rage. You wanted to curse yourself amongst the shattered sobs that filled your own ears, but you could barely form a thought other than to breathe.
Every reflection of yourself was scars on a body that taunted you, a body that never truly felt like yours, and sure as hell not your home. Every battle you’d endured had been a solo loss, maybe a rare few a solo victory. But you knew you weren’t the one winning. They’d done irreversible damage to you, damage so deep you knew you’d live with it forever. It clawed itself out. The grave was too shallow.
The hits, their words. So many foul insults hurled at you, none for good reason. You could never place exactly what you had done, other than the misfortune that you happened to be the youngest and a girl. Weak to begin with, weak to the end. Nothing to defend your honor, your dignity- purely doomed from the start.
They had crucified you, condemned you, chewed you up and spat you out like you were rot on tongue. You must have left a bad taste in their mouth.
Shaking your head, your fingers clawed into your face, desperately trying to feel anything other than the tightness in your chest, the burning of your throat. The apartment was quiet, fan humming and tv playing an old rerun of Leon’s favorite show.
Even now you felt pathetic, unsure if it was because of your own volition and thoughts or the insecurity they had instilled in you. Made you believe what they created of you.
No. You’re not that anymore. You’re here.
Leon was your lifeline, the one and only thing that kept you afloat. You’d never been able to admit to him quite what your brothers secretly were, what they hid beneath their strong dedicated demeanors that painted them out to be men of good faith. It was sickening how well they could hide their black souls, truly wolfs in sheep clothing.
It didn’t matter that you knew to your core that Leon would never leave your side, never question what you said. But the thought of Leon not believing you, the idea that statistically there was a chance he might side with them or realize what you really were made bile burn up your throat. You couldn’t risk it, rather hide in silent suffering than expose the people Leon thought he knew best. If you lost Leon, you’d have no one. The choice always seemed clear to you, no matter how badly the words wanted to spill from your tongue.
Long time no see sister. Hosting a dinner next Friday, 7:30 pm. Would love to see you.
Blunt enough to be open to interpretation, they’d be disappointed if you didn’t see right through it. You’d been scalded before. A little ditzy dumb doe eager to make amends, craving a relationship with ruthless wolves that wanted nothing more than to rip their fangs into your throat.
It was always easy for them to target you and blame you. You made the perfect victim, always too understandable and far too kind for your own good. The type of kind that had you putting others before you, constantly at your own expense. It was laughable how easy you were to figure out.
Their abuse was a lifestyle you never thought you’d get out of, hoping you’d die young to slip through their fingers, but life had other plans and you had learned to live with it. You could be better them, move on from them, love someone who would pour into you just as you do for them. But it would be stupid to think you could forget.
Coughing, you tried to catch your breath, sniffling and wiping the snot from your nose, too lazy and distraught to care. You stumbled over to the couch, legs unsteady and electricity still running through your veins. You needed to sit before you passed out.
Leon’s shirt was large on your frame, bare feet padding on the wood floor as you sat in the deepest corner of the couch, tucking into a ball to keep yourself small. Your arms squeezed around your knees, hanging on to the feeling.
You needed Leon. He was the air in your lungs, a deep breath that grounded you and enveloped you. Your safety blanket.
You had to learn to lie to him when these episodes popped up, making it out to be some ptsd from past missions. You weren’t completely lying, but you couldn’t find it in you to admit it. He didn’t need to know the real reason and he didn’t deserve to feel that dissonance. He once knew your brothers, for fucks sake, it was how you met him. You couldn’t do that to him.
You turned up the volume of the tv, praying it would drown out some of your mental doom spiraling. It felt like you were in a never ending fog, unable to do anything other than mindless motions. Your eyes felt puffy, strands of hair thrown astray and some stuck to the wetness on your face. Leon would return tonight, tired and beat. You needed to put yourself together, for him.
The noise of a door creaking open jolted you from your unintentional nap, head jerking up from the awkward bent position against your shoulder, sore muscles in your neck and back screaming at how fast you moved. The tv had automatically paused, stuck on an ‘are you still watching?’ page. You were still now uncomfortably balled up on the couch, arms limp by your side with knees tucked up. You blinked hard trying to clear the sleep in your eyes.
“Hey baby, I’m back,” a deep voice cooed, so gentle and tender with you despite him being the one who deserved all the care. You blinked again, watching Leon shut the door and softly pad over to you. “Leon, you’re home,” you whispered in relief, realizing the apartment was dark now, day turned well into evening. “Are you okay? How did it go?” You croaked, and you grimaced at how weak and scratchy your voice sounded.
His eyebrows softly furrowed and a look of concern flashed across his face. He kneeled in front of you on the couch, an arm resting on his knee while the other pulled at your leg to stretch it out. His hand stayed. “Yeah pretty I’m okay, went really well actually. Are you okay?”
The living room light downplayed how worried he looked, lightly masking his full emotion. You mentally scolded yourself for falling asleep. If you had time, you could’ve been prepared, mask perfectly into place and mind as clear as it could get. Instead you almost felt like you were getting whiplash, as if instead of a nap, you blacked out and now you’ve just spawned back in.
A sharp quiet inhale. “M-mmhm.” You didn’t trust your voice, watching his head slowly bob, not in response but as if he was observing and studying the results. “Yeah?” Leon didn’t believe you.
You couldn’t look right at him, hoping he’d take your quietness and inability to keep his gaze as confusion from just having woken up from a nap. Guilt nibbled away at you, not from lying to him but how you couldn’t currently provide the rightful and deserving care to him. He deserved to be looked after and immediately here he is, looking after you.
It wouldn’t be long before he realized how worthless you were and the thought sent a shiver down your spine. How could you advocate and fight for yourself when you felt the same?
“Hey,” he sternly but lightly spoke your name to bring back your attention on him. “Hey- come back to me, what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” His voice was like syrup, smooth and sweet as you let it reel you back in.
A barely there smile formed on your face like clockwork, well practiced. “I-I’m sorry, Leon. Just super out of it today- didn’t mean to fall asleep and just-just a weird dream. Promise, honey.”
He bit his lip, hands wandering up your calves to lightly massage your knee. “You can tell me,” he whispered and you felt your heart strings tug. You lightly groaned as you pushed yourself to sit upright, lifting your palms to cup both of his cheeks. Only one had a scratch, and you gave a genuine smile as the thought of him kicking ass popped into your head.
“Leon,” and you brushed your thumbs back and forth over the apple of his cheeks, strands of blonde hair falling over his face. “I know, baby. I’m okay. Now go shower and I’ll make you something to eat yeah? I cooked earlier,” you hummed, leaning in to press a kiss against his inviting lips. He hummed back, so easily distracted by your affection.
Chuckling into the kiss, you patted his shoulder. “Alright stinky, go,” you chuckled and he jokingly scoffed, standing with a groan. “Ouch,” he played offended bringing a hand to rest over his heart. You rolled your eyes and stood, making your way into the kitchen, eyes automatically landing on the closed lid of the trash can that hid the thing that ruined you.
While Leon showered, you mindlessly went through the paces of heating up dinner, clock already showing that it was after 8 pm. Without Leon in the kitchen, you couldn’t help as your thoughts kept drifting back to the letter, to your brothers, to the things they did to you.
You went through the movements, sauce pan heating up certain contents, water boiling, a cutting board with chopped veggies. You didn’t fully pay attention to anything. The surface was covered in some clutter, and in the midst of mechanically and harshly swiping things off and hastily putting items away, there was a loud thump of something flying off and hitting the floor.
You froze, eyebrows furrowed as you wondered what made such a loud bang. Sizzling noises filled the air and the bubbling of boiled water screamed, alerting you it was done but you paid no mind. Marching around to see the fallen objects you cursed as your eyes land on Leon’s items that you didn’t realize were on the counter.
Phone faced down and keys splayed on the floor.
You flew to the floor, the back hand sending you tumbling. “Are you fucking serious? You broke it you dumb-”
You shook your head, nervously kneeling down to reveal the damage. Oh fuck.
Leon’s phone screen was shattered. Your heart dropped, eyes glazing over as you stared at what you had done, mind panicking on how you could fix this before leon saw. You held his phone with both of your hands, trembling as you felt tears well up in your eyes.
“Was-was an accident, I swear- I’m s-sorry!”
Leon’s voice called your name. Your breath hitched. You were frozen to the spot.
Your hearing was overwhelmed with noises yet simultaneously drowned everything out.
You flinched to yourself hearing Leon murmur a curse. You didn’t dare move your head, but let the noises of the stove bring you back. The dinner- his dinner.
He turned off the heat, unbothered by his now burnt dinner and completely over done noodles, water having poured over and taken out its own flame. It didn’t process to you, the only thought as you stayed glued to one spot is how royally fucked you were.
Back from a mission and you’ve not only just shattered his phone, you fucked up his dinner. He had every right to take his anger out on you.
A tear broke past your waterline and the saliva in your mouth was thick. Your heart raced, eyes wet and unfocused.
What have you done.
A hand cautiously rested on your back and you gasped, throwing yourself forward to crawl away from the incoming hit, dropping Leon’s phone again the process. You turned back, finally freezing when your eyes landed on Leon, hair dripping water droplets onto his t shirt.
He was frozen, staring at you like he had actually just wounded you. You swallowed, quickly shaking your head as your fingers curled into the floor. “Sorry, so- I’m so sorry,” you hastily mumbled not quite making sense. Once more, Leon squatted down to your level.
You quickly crawled to where his phone was, picking it up. You sharply inhaled, preparing yourself for the hit you’d receive when he saw what you did. No amount of apologizing or crying would save you. It never worked.
Hands shaking, a small hiccup fell past your lips. You kept your face directed at the ground, arm reaching out to hand him his phone. “I ruined it.”
You inhaled as you felt his hand softly take it out of your grip, but you didn’t look. Didn’t want to see the anger that would take over him, didn’t want to watch his beautiful face contort into hatred directed at you. Always directed at you.
“Baby…”
Unaware of the hand that had reached out to cup your face, you flinched back, a small yelp unintentionally flying out of you as calloused fingers softly caressed your cheek. Leon froze again and you finally gained the courage to look up at him, hand now hovering inches from your skin.
It’s Leon. You’re okay you’re okay so why does it feel like you might die?
You shook your head to clear the thought. “I’m so sorry, Leon. It won’t- won’t happen again.”
With everything you could muster, you put together what has to be the shittiest smile in the world. A small barely there attempt as tears continued to streak down your face.
Leon’s mouth was gaped open, eyes staring into yours as he tried to wrap his mind around your behavior but failing. Did you seriously think that he would hit you?
You’re glued to the spot. Waiting. He’s not completely sure for what. He’s always tried to help when he would notice you losing yourself, but he’d never seen you like this. So ready for a punishment you didn’t deserve. He tucked the thought away for later.
“Can I touch you?” Leon whispered breaking the silence, voice so quiet he wondered if you would be able to hear it. You’re looking at him, but you’re not quite there. Your eyes were glazed over and the streaks of tears felt like a punch to the gut. There was nothing else he wanted more than to see you happy.
You gulped. Your brothers usually just swung first.
You didn’t trust your voice, hoping that a nod would suffice as an answer and not interpreted as defiance and disrespect. A hand smoothed your hair back and it took everything in you to not wince away. Leon’s free hand that previously hovered over your cheek, moved agonizingly slow to rest against your skin, thumb rubbing away your tears.
“Can you stand?”
You nodded. Leon dropped his touch, hands going to lightly grip around your biceps to help you off of the ground. You stayed silent, even as his hands returned to their position on your face. He mumbled your name.
“Come on pretty girl, look at me, I’m right here,” Leon cooed, tilting your chin further to look right at him. Even now, you'd get shy from how deeply and intensely he stared at you.
“I’m so sorry Leon.”
If Leon was fucked up he would have laughed at you, at how ridiculous you sounded apologizing over something so trivial when you knew him better than that. Knew you could do absolutely anything to him and he'd say thank you. He never wanted to see you look at him like this again.
“Baby I don’t give a fuck about the phone. Fuck, I'll go buy a new one and you can shatter that too," a hand resumed its stroking on your hair, petting you as if you had done something good, as if you deserved to be rewarded for your behavior.
“I broke it. I ruined your dinner. I fucked every thing up. You just got back-" you spat, feeling tears well up in your eyes again at how pitiful and useless you were.
You'd always been like that. You were a waste of time, going out of your way to help someone, only to fuck it up so much that someone else would have to clean up your fucking mess, over and over again, you proved to be more trouble than you were worth.
“Hey- stop that." He interrupted your train of thought, voice becoming not angry but almost desperate. "Stop it. I don’t care about any of that-I just care about you? okay?" His eyes flickered back and forth on your face, his thumb moving from your cheek to brush against the bottom of your puffy lip.
“I’m okay I promise-" and he said your name. Not a question, not a statement. An order, a finality.
“No you’re not.” You didn't have the guts to respond, fearful of the sobs that would rattle you, unable to trust your legs to keep you up. Leon would keep you steady. You knew that.
A long pause filled the air between you two, Leon trying to find the words to say to get it through your thick skull that you were quite literally perfect to him, that the flaws you thought you carried were what made him so helplessly and foolishly in love with you that he got sick at the thought.
“You know,” and for a moment he was horrified of your response, holding his breath bracing himself. He had only ever wanted to love you as fiercely as you loved him since the first moment he laid his eyes on you. “I would never," Leon's voice cracked, so quiet but anybody that could hear would know that nothing but pain was laced in his voice. "and I will never in my fucking life, ever lay a hand on you. Please," he quietly begged. "You know that right? I would never hurt you. I need you to know that.” He stared at you like you were everything, like you were the air he breathed, like you were the sun on the most beautiful day or a fucking full moon on a cloudless night, he couldn't look away from you and you had no idea. No idea what you did to him.
He could feel his throat tighten as he bore his eyes into you as if the action alone would make you realize what you meant to him.
You bit your lip, gaze dropping to the tiny freckle that decorated the base of his neck. Your lips twitched as you held back a sob. "I know- I know you wouldn't," you hiccuped, strings of saliva sticking to your mouth. "Im-" and he cut you off, grip tightening on your face but only firm, not painful.
"Please," Leon whispered, voice broken around the edges. "Please, don't say you're sorry. Im telling you," and he paused to lean down, pressing his lips to your forehead, letting them rest there for a few seconds before pulling away to rest his forehead against yours, blonde hair a deep brown from how damp it was. "Fuck the phone. The most important thing on there is photos of you and I always back them up. I need you to be okay." You weren't sure if you were going to cry from his words or how horrible you felt about it all.
"I will be. I promise," you whispered, raw and raspy as if you'd spent hours screaming your lungs out.
"I love you. Go sit, let me clean up-" you went to speak, wincing at your other failed attempt that left Leon cleaning up after you. "Nope, not listening, go sit." And it was final as he pecked your lips, your nose, your forehead. A small smile grew on your face at how loved you were, despite being so utterly undeserving.
Days turned into nights turned into days of Leon growing increasingly concerned at your masochistic behavior. The times he'd come home from work knowing you've lied to him about eating, the dark purple circles that painted your eyes proving him and refuting your claim that you weren’t sleeping at night. He wanted to ask you if you thought he was dumb.
At dinner, he'd calmly plead for you to eat not wanting to make you feel like he was making a big deal or being pushy, eyes glued to you as you pushed around food with your fork like it was some sort of muck. He knew you weren't sleeping at night, Leon himself staying up later to pet your hair or scratch your back in hopes your body would have no choice but to give in to the sleep that lulled it.
He had seen you completely destroyed, seen you bleeding out and delirious, seen you at your lowest when you've wanted to die, seen you sick, and still never seen you act so unattached like this. So numb and devoid of life like all your internal wiring had been taken out and revamped to shut down any emotional signal. He wasn't a stranger to wanting to die, but watching you fake every smile while your eyes screamed how you really felt gutted him like a fish.
You had stopped crying, tear ducts so dried out it hurt to blink and felt like your own eye lids might get stuck to your eyeballs. When Leon was home, you'd try- god you swore you were trying, but you were so emotionally drained that even you knew how bad you were doing, unable to keep horribly lying to yourself. You felt so numb you couldn't even come up with some sort of failed fucked up past mission that you could say was haunting you. How do you explain the letter?
Yes Leon, my brothers and your old friends have ruined me so badly that I'll never be the same? That I am so worthless and such a failure that it's only a matter of time before you realize they were right? Oh yeah- and this all was spurred on because after finally regaining my life back, after winning everything because I get to have you, some measly little dinner invitation is what sent me spiraling?
You huffed to yourself. You've never wanted to hurt someone so badly and that someone was you. Wanted to punch yourself across the face or grab yourself by the hair and throw your shitty self across the room breaking your bones. For now, sitting and staring at the wall would do, analyzing every single fault, every little crack that spread out like little lightning strikes standing stark against the lightest of grey room.
You felt a presence walk up from behind you, each step soft and carefully measured with precision as to not scare you. You heard him before you saw him.
"Ready, pretty?" and Leon came into view, clad in a simple black t shirt that perfectly hugged his biceps and jeans that fit his thighs so good. Even amongst your depressive state, your stomach flipped, almost intimidated by how good he looked while you looked like this. You swallowed to clear your throat, words unable to form at the sight of him. You felt like a school girl with a crush.
"U-uh, yeah- yeah, ready," You pathetically stuttered as your cheeks warmed, slowly standing up and blinking hard to rid your eye sight of the sparkles that danced in your vision. The room spun for just a moment, stilling once your hand found its rightful place in Leons outstretched palm, immediately intertwining his fingers through yours.
What was supposed to be a fun gathering with friends felt more like you were a stranger peering into someone's lives through a window. You sat at the dinner table, surrounded by the people who loved you most and all you could do was stare, zoning out at a painting behind Claire's head as they all listened to Jill explain a story. You knew your little front had been a fail, noticing everyone's eyes flicker with concern when you ushered out your umpteenth, "promise, im okay."
Smiling was becoming progressively harder and harder to do through out the night, wishing you could take your fingers and push up the sides of your mouth to mimic the emotion when you needed to. Laughs broke you out of your trance and you blinked hard, inhaling sharply to try and resume your attention the person now speaking.
You focused your gaze and your breath hitched, heart dropping in your stomach and blood draining from your face. Exactly where Chris was sitting now sat your oldest brother, all godly like with a devilish smirk painted on his face looking nothing more than a wolf going in for the kill, canines and all. Your chest constricted, fear ramping through you like you'd just been doused with a bucket of ice, fingers curling in on themselves to imprint your clammy palms with half crescent moons. Bile rose in your throat and you hastily shoved your chair back, wooden legs scraping against the floor so roughly you were positive you left marks.
Every head snapped towards yours as you jolted up, but this time when you looked at your brother, it was Chris, frozen to the spot and staring right back at you with pure concern. You felt so stupid, blood rushing to your cheeks, chest rapidly rising and falling as you stuttered out a just as stupid excuse. You felt Leons hand lightly touch the side of your thigh as he looked up at you, still seated at the table and eyebrows furrowed in worry.
"I-um- just, just remembered something! I-I'll be back!" You smiled, stepping away from the chair to make your way towards the kitchen that was thankfully separated and closed off from the dining room, taking the time to process what you just saw, who you just saw.
You braced your palms against the counter, leaning forward to tuck your chin down to your chest, frantically pleading to yourself to keep your tears from streaking down your face. You could feel your chin start to wobble and roughly dug your teeth into your lip to keep it from trembling, soon after tasting a small metallic tang.
He's not here. He's not here. He's not here.
You exhaled, fingers flexing as you slammed your eyes shut repeating the same phrase to yourself. Standing up straight, you shakily inhaled, creeping open your eyes as if you'd see him right in front of you. A small creak sounded from behind you and you gasped, eyebrows shooting up as you hastily and fearfully spun around, hand knocking into a glass object that hit the ground with a large smash.
Who you thought might be your brother, was Chris, looking at you with wide eyes and arm still paused in the air from where he was holding what used to be his glass. You felt like a deer in headlights, shaky hand coming to cup your palm over your mouth. Your heart pounded, wave of heat flashing over you, eyes glazing over in fear and panic. You let yourself stare at the completely shattered glass, liquid spilled all over the floor as the fragments shined under the kitchen light.
Look what you've done.
A voice said something but you couldn't focus on what. it sounded so far away you weren't even completely sure it was real.
As you stared at the glass, mind not fully loading to get you to do something, there was a movement from the corner of your eye, a large hand surely coming up to land a powerful hit, maybe it would be a punch this time, or maybe it would grab you by the hair and slam you face down.
You gasped a choked sob, flinching away so violently you stumbled over your own feet like a pathetic uncoordinated child, tumbling right onto the destroyed bits and pieces.
They cut right into your bare knees, lodging into your palms, stabbing and poking but you didn't care, mind going through the possibilities of what your punishment might consist of. You didn't know if you were speaking or making any sense, bawling and rushing out useless apologizes, watching tears drop onto the wooden floor and broken glass.
You let out a sob, the only words you knew that could be interpreted being, "Im sorry, Im so sorry." You were shaking, fiercely now, and unsteady on your bleeding hands and knees, fingers piercing themselves as you attempted to clean up the wreckage with naked hands.
You shifted your knees forward to be able to reach more glass, digging them into freshly untouched shards as the previous bits remained embedded into your wounded skin. Glass digging into glass making your injury deeper and more painful- more deserving for someone like you. Maybe cleaning up the glass could suffice as enough punishment.
Your breaths were fast and heavy, hoarse and almost painful to listen to as your back heaved and arched with every inhale and exhale. Your movements were sloppy and careless as you cried, hands recklessly scooping glass up into your already bleeding hands, piercing them further and further.
oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck. You could see it now, the anger and rage on their faces as they all admit what they've truly felt for so long. Your thoughts bombard you with your brothers, what they would have done to you if they were here, what they would have done to you if you had gone to their dinner.
More ineligible mumbles fell past your lips consisting of broken apologies and what Chris thought sounded like a, "please don't hit me."
He was taken aback, torn between yanking you up or yelling for Leon. He didn’t want to scare you more than he already had. Steps rushed in from behind Chris, Leons voice cutting through his own thoughts.
"What the fuck..." he cursed, paralyzed for a split moment as he watched you sob and spew 'sorry's' as you crawled around in shattered shards, blood now smearing on the floor.
Leon snapped out of it, inhaling sharply as he bolted forward, eyes wide and jaw gone slack at the gut wrenching scene before him, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he watched his girlfriend bleed on the wood floor. He's on the ground in an instant, careful to avoid the glass.
You shot back, head tucked down as your palms drag back through even more remains, crying out that you're so sorry, you won't do it again, and you just won’t stop. He didn’t recognize you like this, blood beginning to travel up your forearm as you hurriedly pushed back your hair, hand accidentally brushing against your cheek leaving a streak of blood in its wake.
With how far gone you were, you couldn’t find it in you to even think about what Chris was seeing or what was running through his head, your usual self who would’ve been mortified being viewed like this. But it wasn’t Chris there and it wasn’t Leon who was kneeling in front of you. Cleaning up broken remnants with barehands that cut and would surely scar your skin was the least of your worries when you knew deep down what awaited you.
Your brothers were ruthless wicked souls disguised in the skin of man, capable of camouflaging their ill intent to exterminate the weak and invaluable of their world just by flashing a bright smile and saying pretty words like they truly meant it. They dedicated their craft to being agents and no one would ever learn their true makeup and nature. All except for you.
Chris hoarsely muttered something about going to keep the ladies away, wanting to give you and Leon privacy.
Without much thought and not a clue on how to proceed, Leon quickly but tenderly reached out his own unsteady hands to wrap them around your forearms and prevent your further movements. He gathered them in his hands, the contact making you go still. The position forced you to slowly sit back on your thighs, eyes glued to the leftover pieces that you missed, proof of the horrible job you’d been doing. Someone else would clean up your mess like always.
Leon shifted his hold, uncurling your fingers and angling your wrist down and away from your body to drop the glass bits you had been collecting in your palm. His jaw tightened as he realized the remaining bits that did not fall, were wedged into your hand. He swallowed, reverting his gaze back to you only to find you looking more horrified than ever, visibly shaking with tear stained and a blood brushed cheek, eyes glossed over and lips swollen from your teeth that had punctured it.
He spoke your name, so softly that he knew it was useless, but he wasn’t thinking, wasn’t trying to get your attention, just so beyond himself he wasn’t sure what to do. He’d been put through so many types of hell and guts and gore and things he’d never mentally escape from and still this topped them all. You felt like someone he couldn’t save, and if he couldn’t save you he’d be nothing.
His thumbs automatically caressed your skin, smearing blood. He shook his head to think, he just needed to think, needed to get you out of here, needed you to come back, needed to clean your cuts, needed you to be okay.
Distant voices blurred in the background from the dining room, out of view, but they overlapped and commingled, panicked and anxious as he heard questions of what to do, is she okay, how can we help, what’s wrong. He appreciated Chris for keeping them away.
There was his own ringing in his ears, eyes tunnel visioned on you as Leon uttered your name again, louder this time. A small flinch was your only response. He scooted forward, careful to avoid the glass, and with calculated caution to not spook you, lightly placed your hands to rest in your lap before moving his hands to cup your cheeks. He quietly begged you, pleaded with you to look at him, whispered your name.
It was a struggle for you to come to, vision switching between the man you loved and the people that hurt you the most, but when your eyes shifted from littered blood drops and broken glass on the floor to baby blue eyes, your reality started to untangle and piece itself back together. A praise fell out of Leon’s mouth as you made eye contact with him, a tear breaking past your waterline. You weren’t sobbing now, just left with the residual outcome of numbness and unease.
“You’re okay, you’re okay, baby. it’s just me, it’s Leon,” he whispered and you could feel your chin start to wobble as you realized that it was true. It was Leon. Not them.
You sniffled, eyes squeezing shut to keep more tears from forming. What have you done. “I’m so sorry, Leon.”
He immediately shook his head as the first syllable fell from your lips, positioning himself closer, warm calloused hands being your only source of comfort. “You didn’t do anything. Nothing to be sorry for. You’re okay.”
He brushed hair behind your ear, fingers trailing over your skin and around the shell of your ear, reminding you that there was someone out there who craved to be gentle towards you, someone who didn’t find joy or pride in kicking you while you were down. The thought made your heart clench, chest tight. There was no words you could speak, a small little broken squeak coming out in place when you tried.
“It’s okay, you don’t need to speak. I’m right here, okay? I’ve got you, we’ll figure this out, okay?” He reassured, time and time again, repeating himself to get it engrained in your head that you’d never be alone, that you weren’t alone, no matter how real it felt. You could only nod.
“Can I pick you up?” Leon questioned, maneuvering to stand up, shoe crunching on glass. You barely bobbed your head, signaling your response as you felt Leon’s strong hands shift to under the pits of your arm, not even grunting as he helped you stand on shaky knees. For the first time, you winced at the stinging sensation of shards lodged into your knees, looking down to see tiny trails of blood began to move South.
“I stained the floor.” And Leon huffed.
“I promise you, no one cares about the floor.” His voice was calm, soft, gentle.
Your hands were awkwardly by your side, not close enough to touch fabric, but fingers splayed open to not push on the glass that had burrowed in your palms. Leon’s eyes stared at the wound, switching between your palms and knees and inhaling sharply, muscles in his jaw clenching every few seconds. You focused on the ripple of skin.
Without a word, Leon’s arms scooped your form up, hands gentle yet firm as one was placed beneath your knees and the other under your back. “Let’s clean you up.” And you heard Chris’ faint voice say something about bandages under a sink, your hearing still muted.
Your hands remained in your lap as Leon carried you through the home towards a restroom, no words shared but the swipes of his thumb against your skin. His chest radiated warmth and strength as you took the first opportunity to lean into him, head nestled into his neck.
He made his way into the bathroom, softly setting you on the too cold counter top to quickly grab supplies and tweezers from the cabinet. When his attention returned to your hands and knees, you saw the faintest shake of his head, embarrassment and disappointment flooding through you at how much of an inconvenience you felt like.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered eyes focused on your lap as your palms rested face up on your thighs.
More hands on your face. “I’m not mad at you, baby. I hate,” and he spat the word like an insult. “Hate, seeing you hurt like this. Why would you hurt yourself?” And his words cracked, voice gravely and rough as his eyes searched yours. You didn’t have an answer.
“Where did you go?” His tone was cautious, curious but confused in what dug its claws into you so deeply that it had your hands raking through glass. You sighed, nerves chewing away at you and his eyes bore into yours. “Past mission? What happened that started all this?” And his forehead pressed into yours.
When you didn’t answer, he silently pulled away, grabbing a rag to wipe away the blood on your face, holding the back of your palm gently to pick out the pieces of glass, apologizing every time you winced in pain. He did the same for your other hand and your knees, placing gauze on them once he was finished. Standing up to full height, he stared at the bandages before whispering out a confession that sounded as if it was stuck in his throat and he had to force it out. “I never want to see you like that again. You scared me.”
“I know.”
Leon bit his lip, shakily exhaling. “I need you to tell me what’s happening. I love you and I’m-” his voice cracked. “I’m scared I’m losing you.” The admission made you wince, made you look away and play with the words in your head.
This is what they would want.
The truth made you sick and as you looked back at Leon, eyebrows furrowed and eyes glazed over as if you were his lifeline, you have never felt more selfish. You’d spent so long getting over your brothers, successfully moving on with your life with the help of Leon who didn’t even know your struggles came from them and not failed missions.
You couldn’t even imagine what you would do if you saw Leon break like you, the image in your head making you want to crawl in a hole and die. You’d do anything for him, you’d die for him, so maybe you needed to be truthful- come clean. And unfortunately that was the hardest one of the three.
You shook your head shutting his words down. “Y-You won’t, I love you. I-,” and more tears welled up in your eyes but you didn’t care about being pathetic, didn’t care about how much you felt like you hated yourself. You loved Leon more than anything and that trumped everything and more. You could not let them win.
“I promise, I’ll explain things soon. I just- just need some time. Thank you for dealing with me.”
He scoffed. “God, my beautiful fucking girl,” and he gave a fake laugh. “I’m not dealing with you, yeah? I love you and I’ll keep loving you until you’re sick of me and want me gone. And I’d still love you after that. I’m not- I’m not okay when you’re not with me. I mean it when I say- I need you.”
“I need you too.” You softly spoke.
“Just- just don’t go back there, okay? You need to hurt something, you hurt me. I can’t take it seeing you like this, I feel like- feel like I’m gonna die,” he explained leaning in to brush his nose against yours, lips hovering centimeters from your own, fingers curling into your hair. “You don’t need to tell me now. But when you’re ready, I’m here. I’m always here for you, baby.” Leon promised, words softly spoken between your lips, breath hot and comforting and everything you’ve ever needed. With the utmost care, he reached for your forearm, so extremely cautious of your injury, and gently placed it over his beating heart. He shut his eyes, licking his lips, slowly leaning in to kiss you, slotting his mouth perfectly over yours in hopes you could feel what you did to him. You felt his heart beat pick up and a tear dropped down your cheek, heart fluttering in your own chest, mind going a million miles a minute as your love for him overwhelmed you- consumed you, made you forget your own name.
You’d drown in his love if you could.
and then they go home and you tell him and he kills your brothers and you fuck and you guys live happily ever after
To all the resident evil writers out there, I know we love Leon, I love Leon too and I’m so happy that he gets all the attention he does. BUT PLEASE, I BEG, write for Carlos, Claire, Luis, Jill, etc. I yearn for fics of them but there hardly are any😭😭
the leon x reader tag scares me. it’s just weird how in so many fandoms people literally glorify abuse, rape, incest, and borderline pedophilia. and it’s even worse when the reader is supposed to be this “hyperfeminine” person when in reality it’s just a disguise for age play. like the reader can be girly i don’t mind. but when you equate them being girly to acting like an actual toddler and sexualizing that is WEIRD. like i block the people who write that as much as i can but it really gets to a point because it feels like those kind of fics are more popular/made more than normal non criminal ones.
