sooo since re9 leon is back are we getting another fanfic like little moments but with that version of leon? 👁️👁️ i like the angst with smut im sorry 💔
YALL STILL REMEMBER LITTLE MOMENTS??? That was like 2 years ago 😭
First off — thank you. And secondly…
Hit me with requests! That’s kinda all I have motivation for at the moment. But I have been thinking about doing a character insert/rewrite for RE2 (Leon x OC) But that is a little different to what I have posted in the past since I usually do character x reader.
If that’s something you guys would be interested in though, let me know! And/or throw some requests at me 😘
you know i gotta hit you with The Angst™ to welcome you back 💜:
what do you think a letter or phone call might be like from Leon, with the infection getting as bad as it did, and him going into ARK knowing damn good and well that he wasn't planning on walking back out alive (especially in *that* ending...)
How did you know I’ve been wanting some angsty Requiem Leon ideas to read and write? *twirls hair*
I hope this is okay! I haven’t written for anyone other than myself for a HOT minute. But also! Plot wise: If you want something more… confrontational, let me know 🤭
One Call Away - part 1(?)
The door to PANDORA is covered in his blood. A mixture of red blood and black infection spilling down the translucent, yellow-tinted door and pooling on the floor by his limp hand. Zeno stands somewhere on the other side, guarding Elpis, waiting for Grace. Waiting to unleash hell on Earth.
Leon doesn’t know if he will be able to win this fight. Even if he could manage to push himself onto his feet, and force himself through the door, he knows he doesn’t stand a chance against Zeno. His speed, his regenerative abilities, his strength… Leon can’t even sit up straight as he slumps against the door, wheezing and coughing up more and more blood.
He’s not making it back home.
He wants to make sure Grace makes it out of this alive. He wants to make sure Elpis is destroyed. That Umbrella stays dead and buried. Even if it means he must be buried with it.
Even if it means never seeing his wife again.
He groans in pain as he reaches into one of the many pockets of his vest, unzipping the small compartment and pulling his phone out. He hasn’t been able to contact Sherry since entering ARK and he knows he won’t be able to contact his wife either, but it doesn’t stop him from trying. He’ll be damned if he dies without trying to hear her voice one last time.
His breathing is laboured and rough as he navigates through his phone and finds her phone number. He looks up in the top corner to see there’s one bar of reception — maybe a figment of his imagination or maybe the universe is throwing him a bone in his final moments. Either way, he presses the green button and weakly holds the phone to his ear, listening to it ring.
He wipes the blood off his chin with his gloved hand, staring at the walls bathed in a yellow glow. The phone keeps ringing. He grunts in pain and exhaustion as he shifts his weight, reaching behind to find the ring in his back pocket. He never wears it on missions, not wanting to risk losing it or getting it covered in blood and guts and whatever else he usually finds himself covered in after these types of adventures.
He tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder, bringing his gloved finger to his mouth where he bites onto the fabric and frees his hand. He spits the glove onto the ground, knowing he doesn’t have much need for it anymore, and the phone finally stops ringing as he stares at the silver band resting on his bruised, black-veined, rotten-looking palm.
“Hello?” The line crackles, unstable, but it’s there.
“Mrs. Kennedy,” he greets, keeping as much of the exhaustion and pain out of his voice as possible. He doesn’t want to worry her, even though receiving a call from him in the middle of a mission never warrants good news… Hell, he’s never called her in the middle of a mission before. Which can only mean one thing.
He can hear how still she is, how she holds her breath. She knows what this is. She knows what this means.
“Are you okay?” Her voice is unsteady, already knowing his answer, but she asks it anyway. Leon finds himself chuckling faintly to himself. He can barely move his own body, he can taste nothing but blood, simple things like breathing have become a painful, torturous, and excruciating experience. Each breath like a sharp knife digging further and further into his lungs.
“Me? Never been better. Just missing your voice is all,” he quips, but there is some truth to his words. He’s dying in some underground lab filled with monsters and viruses — possibly one of the worst places he could find himself — a place that’s soon to become his tomb.
And yet he can hear her voice. His favourite voice. And suddenly he doesn’t feel so alone.
“I’ve been missing you. You’ve been gone for far too long. Do you have any idea how cold it is when you’re not in bed with me?” she chuckles. It’s wet and forced and he can tell she’s trying to be brave for him. Just as he is doing for her.
“Hasn’t been that long.” It’s about to be much… much longer.
“Any amount of time away from you is too long, Leon.” He can hear the smile in her voice, but he can also hear the wobble of her bottom lip and the lump in her throat that she’s forced to keep swallowing. He wonders if talking to her at this time is doing more harm than good. Is it better to have a final moment? Is it better to say goodbye? Or is he just being selfish and hurting her more?
He feels his lungs squeeze painfully as another wave of coughing hits him. It’s too sudden for him to hang up or mute the call as he throws up more and more black blood. He holds the wedding ring tightly in his hand, refusing to dirty it or tarnish it with his sickness or anything thats not as pure as his love for his wife.
He hears her sniffle and choke on a sob as he violently coughs some more, fighting for air. He holds the phone away from his face so she doesn’t have to hear him so closely as he spits up more blood and groans in frustration. It hurts like hell, it feels like his lungs, his heart, and his entire chest is going to collapse with each cough. He feels a rib crack under the pressure, clenching his jaw tight and fighting the urge to make a pained noise so his wife doesn’t fear for him any more than she already is.
The coughing finally subsides after the puddle of blood beside him has doubled in size.
He brings the phone back to his ear, opening his mouth, ready to apologise, but she speaks first.
“Old age finally getting to you, huh?” She teases, making him smile and chuckle in disbelief at her audacity. His sides ache as he laughs, but hearing him laugh makes her laugh, and even though it’s layered with sadness and grief and pain, it’s still music to his ears. The best gift she could give him before he leaves her behind on this earth.
“Yeah, guess I should’ve taken more vitamins.” He won’t tell her the real cause of his coughing and vomiting, but they both know damn well it’s not his old age that has him in such a state. He hopes she never learns what’s really wrong with him. That, if there’s a funeral for him, she is left blissfully unaware to the cause of his death. He hopes she imagines his death as peaceful and painless. Maybe looking at a sunset rather than the sterile walls of an underground lab in Raccoon City.
“What else have you gotten up to, besides skipping your vitamins?” The smile in her voice sounds more genuine now.
“Oh, you know. Just saving the world.” His smile is more genuine now too.
“You do it so well.”
“Yeah. Well, at least I’m not in China this time.”
“Not a fan of Chinese food?” She teases down the crackling phone line.
“How dare you.” He sasses and she laughs as they remember the few details that he was able to disclose to her about his impromptu trip to China with Helena. Nothing about that trip was as delightful as seeing the sites or enjoying Chinese food. Instead he was crashing a plane, aiding Sherry in a fight against a large bio organic weapon, and fighting regenerative monsters out on the street… just a name a few.
“Leon!” A new voice calls to him from down the hall. Footsteps can be heard approaching him, the shine of a flashlight bouncing off the walls. Grace. She’s okay.
“Mrs. Kennedy… I gotta go,” he breathes and it hurts terribly. He knows that once he hangs up, he will never hear her voice again, and she will never hear his. He wants to say goodbye, to tell her to move on and live a happy life without him. That he doesn’t have any regrets. That he cherishes every moment he’s spent with her. That he believes he has lived a long and happy life, even if it didn’t quite end the way he wanted it to. He never got to grow old with her and have a family with her — not that he felt like he could in his line of work. But the option was always nice.
And now all his options are floating away as he takes his final breaths.
“That’s twice today that you’ve called me Mrs. Kennedy…” He can practically hear her tears splashing on the floor of their home, even through the crackling phone line. He can hear the forced smile, the way she furiously wipes her cheeks and pretends that she isn’t falling apart at the seams. Their comforting and strangely normal conversation brought to a halt as they’re both reminded of the impending doom.
He doesn’t want her to be sad. He doesn’t want their last moments together to be full of heartache and tears. Which is probably why he refuses to say goodbye.
“Just remindin’ myself that I was lucky enough to marry you.” He looks down at the ring still clutched in his palm, hoping she didn’t catch on to his use of past tense... He knows she does, and he knows it hurts her just as much as it hurts him.
“I love you.” He tells her. Firmly. Definitively.
“I—“ The phone line crackles in his ear, and before his wife can finish her sentence, the line disconnects and he’s met with a sudden, deafening silence. He’s lucky enough to have heard her voice one last time. However, he‘s not lucky enough to hear those three little words again. But he knows she loves him, and that’s what matters. He doesn’t need to hear it to know it’s true.
He just wishes he could’ve been given one more little gift before he goes.
Grace’s footsteps become closer and louder, until she finally appears in the hallway. Leon feels a lump form in his throat and a stinging sensation behind his eyes, but he forces it down. His job isn’t done yet. He has to keep going, until he can’t go any further.
He knows he’s not making it out of this lab, but he will make sure Grace gets out.
He finally slides the ring onto his finger, the comforting weight feeling like a piece of his wife is right there with him. Maybe he will be lucky enough to see her one more time as his mind replays all of his memories before it finally shuts down for good.
Maybe in another life, he will get to grow old with her.
Hi there! I just wanna say that I love your writing it’s so good 🫶 anyways I can’t stop thinking about Leon coming back from a mission terribly hurt, and the reader just worries over him and takes care of our sweet boy 🥺 giving him the love and comfort he deserves 🫶 stay safe out there and remember to hydrate! 🫶
Firstly, thank you for the sweet and kind words, anon 💜 you’re precious
Okay so I changed it up a little bit just because I have a longer fic in the works that’s exactly this request lol, so keep an eye out for that one! This one is more… moody? And the love and comfort is more... frustration and argumentative. Hehe
And I imagine RE6/ID Leon for this one but you can imagine who you want!
WARNINGS: wounds/gore, if you're squeamish then maybe don't read just to be safe. Reader is also kinda a bitch, but we all know Leon loves his challenging women lol
“Hey, kid. Mind if I come in?” He asks, already slinking his way inside your home, his hand clutching his right shoulder that was scratched and torn up, leaking blood down his leather jacket and spilling small droplets onto your floor as the blood slid down his bicep and trickled down his fingers.
“Leon, go to a hospital. You’re making a mess,” you grumble, shutting the front door that you had just opened to greet him, and turning around to glare at him with your arms folded over your chest.
“Nice to see where your priorities lie,” he quipped with a hint of humour in his voice. “I’ll clean up any mess I make, I promise.”
You watched him as he made his way to your bathroom, grumbling to yourself as you looked at the floor and saw the trail of blood that he was leaving behind him.
You’ll have to mop again. Even though you just mopped the floors this morning... Maybe you wouldn’t care about the mess if Leon was actually dying. However he loved to come to your house to patch himself up after, almost, every mission. This wasn’t a once off, this was a reoccurrence.
Last time it was broken ribs, which you got into a fight with him about. You were determined that he go to a hospital and seek actual medical attention, but he was adamant that he was fine and would heal on his own. The two of you had a screaming match— well, you screamed, he was pretty calm the whole time. You were paranoid that he would pierce a lung, and then what would you do? You had no medical practice aside from when he would visit, you’d have no idea how to help him. Turns out all he needed was some ice and lots of rest, so it wasn’t too bad.
The time before that, he had a pretty severe concussion. Which again, resulted in the two of you fighting about if he should or shouldn’t go to a hospital, but the night ultimately ended with you forcing him to stay awake so he didn’t die in his sleep. You realised fighting would probably make his condition worsen and he was too stubborn to give up and go to a hospital so you lost a lot of sleep that night, keeping him awake by talking since watching tv would also worsen his condition. So Google says anyway.
The time before that it was a dislocated shoulder. The time before that it was a nasty slice on his thigh that desperately wanted to get infected. The time before that— well, you get the picture. You are Leon Kennedy’s personal nurse whether you like it or not.
“Hey, kid. Come here,” he called out to you from inside the bathroom and you sighed heavily, ready to see whatever injuries he had. It was going to be bad and you were going to yell at him to go to a hospital and he would refuse and you would end up helping him. Rinse and repeat.
You made your way to the bathroom, dodging the drops of blood on the floor so you didn’t walk even more of a mess throughout the house. “I keep telling you, I’m not a fucking doct- oh fuck!”
The moment you saw him, you stumbled and fell back against the bathroom door, feeling your stomach drop while bile rose in your throat.
His jacket was off and hanging over the shower door while his shirt was half off, hanging around his neck and his left arm as he had freed his right arm. Though it wasn’t the lack of clothing that disturbed you, it was the pair of tweezers he was digging into his bloody shoulder, clearly trying to dig something out.
More blood was gushing down his arm and the sickening squelch of him digging around inside his own flesh made you very light headed.
“Hey, come here I need an extra pair of hands.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“Come on, I can feel it, I just can’t get a hold of it. Need that bad boy outta me before I can stitch it up.” He barely looked at you, instead frowning deeply at his shoulder while he dug around his own flesh.
You were going to kill this man with your own bare hands.
“Bullet wound?” You ask, swallowing the bile in your mouth.
“Not sure.”
“How are you not sure?!”
“Just— help me would you?” He sighed, giving up on the task at hand as he took the tweezers out of his shoulder, handing them towards you. Both the tweezers and his fingers were covered in blood, warm and sticky. You wanted to cry. Or scream. Or punch him. All of the above.
You took the tweezers and grabbed the open bottle of rubbing alcohol off the bathroom counter, spilling some over your hands and the small tool. Leon watched you silently, sitting comfortably on the closed toilet lid, man-spreading and slouching as if he didn’t have a gaping hole in his shoulder.
“I hate you so much, just FYI,” you told him as you placed one hand on the top of his shoulder to steady him and yourself while the other hand with the tweezers came up and slowly dug into the hole. Leon hissed, probably because of the antiseptic, but he was soon calm once again. The man had probably been through so much pain in his life that this felt like a breeze.
“You wouldn’t be doing this if you hated me,” he smirked, watching your face while you were very focused on finding whatever it was that was inside his arm so you could get it out safely. And also not throwing up on him as the squelching noises of the tweezers moving around inside him made it very hard to control your stomach.
“Maybe you hate me then. Having me do this for you even though you know how much I hate it, when you could just go to a fucking hospital.” You grumbled, frowning at his arm. You could feel the small piece inside him, scraping against it with the tweezers, you just had to grab it and pull it out without accidentally pushing it further inside.
“That’s not hate. That me being selfish,” he looked away from you, his smirk dropping and his eyes hardening. “I trust you more than some stranger to poke around inside me with a pair of tweezers.”
“You shouldn’t. I have no idea what I’m doing.” You huff.
He was silent then but not because he didn’t have a response. He was more focused watching you pull out a small golden bullet from his arm, that was slightly crumpled from the impact at which it was fired.
“Well what do ya know? It was a bullet,” he sighed heavily, though relaxing further into his seat. The both of you looked closely at the piece that was once in his arm, but now sat firmly between the pincers of the tweezers.
“What the fuck else would it have been?!”
“Trust me you don’t wanna know.” He scoffed. “Anyway, time for you to stitch me up.” He clapped his hands once, wincing at the pain that shot up through his arm as he did so. He leaned forward slightly and rested his elbow on his knee.
“Leon. I’m not a doctor,” you huffed, dropping the bloody bullet into the small trash can beside the toilet. You then dropped the tweezers into the sink and ran some water to rinse them off. “I understand you trust me more, for whatever reason. But this isn’t fair. I hate doing this. I hate seeing you like this.”
“I thought you cared more about the mess I was making in your house.”
You rinsed your hands in the sink next, watching Leon’s blood swirl down the drain. Though his snide comment had you shutting off the water and turning to look at him with a hand on your hip and an unamused look on your face.
Leon parted his lips and avoided your gaze, sighing as he realised you weren’t in the mood for his playful attitude.
“I’m sorry,” he shook his head and grabbed a handful of toilet paper to start wiping away the blood on his arm. “I know I shouldn’t put you through this. I know it’s unfair on you.”
You crouch down in front of him and place your hand on his knee. “Tell me why you do it. Why do you come to me instead of a professional?”
Leon continued to clean his arm, avoiding eye contact with you but the fact that he was being quieter and softer now made your frustrations ease a little. He was acting more unlike himself and more like a soldier, hardened by the many wars he faced.
“When I’m out there on the field,” he pauses what he’s doing and looks up, but he doesn’t look at you, instead his eyes remain distant, unfocused. Maybe lost in a memory. “I look forward to this. Spending time with you. It’s not the best circumstances I know, but after seeing the shit I see... coming back to see you is like a breath of fresh air. I guess I just wanted to be selfish about something, you know?”
You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding and you looked down at your hand that was resting on his knee.
He didn’t get to be selfish a lot in his line of work, it made sense that he would just like to be doted on and cared for instead of being the one who cares for everyone else. This was his break, his vacation.
“I guess—“ you swallow the lump in your throat, refusing to meet his gaze, not that he was looking at you as he was quite flustered after what he just confessed. “I’ve been pretty selfish too. I mean you show up with a bullet wound, bleeding everywhere and I... I mean I’ve been pretty bitchy,” You chuckle but you don’t feel very good about yourself.
“Look,” you start, “what if you come see me more often? Preferably when you’re not bleeding. We can watch movies, relax. Give you the down time you deserve. Just... if you have a crazy injury like this, please get it checked out by a professional? That’s all I ask. I’ll pamper you as much as you need afterwards, okay?”
You’ll give him a vacation that he actually deserves.
“I’d like that,” Leon smiles, closing his eyes to take in the warm feeling for a moment longer. When he opened his eyes again, you couldn’t look away this time. His eyes were so blue, so expressive, so inviting.
You’re not sure what compelled you but your eyes lowered to his lips, so soft looking, only a little chapped, probably from being a little dehydrated after his mission, or maybe the blood loss. Either way you felt yourself leaning forward, inching closer and closer.
Until he cleared his throat.
“Do you mind sewing me up? I’m kinda bleeding out here.” He chuckled softly and you felt your face heat up and your eyes widen.
“Oh fuck, right,” you quickly jump to action, finding the needle and thread, cussing silently to yourself for being so stupid. “We could have talked after I patched you up, you know?”
grabbing new writers by the shoulders. it is important to write what you love and to love what you write. if you spend all your time trying to make something other people will approve of you will hate yourself and everything around you. learn at your own pace. you have time. i’m proud of you
this are just some thoughts i’ve been having about Leon. I imagine him to be the type to do something corny while doing the nasty totally ruining the mood.
Like he will be on top of you and all of sudden he will tickle you or even blow air at your tummy to make some fart noise or something 😭, that’s just how I imagine him idk how to make requests i am sorry.m i hope you can work on something like that.
Anyway I love your writing. <3!
I saw “ruining the mood” and ran with it, so it’s not exactly what you requested but it’s… something. I gave you two scenarios to make up for it lol, if you want something that’s just blowing raspberries or tickling, let me know! I’ll gladly do more of these
Top Leon and bottom Leon scenarios 🤭
🔞
Top!Leon
His face buried between your thighs, your fingers gripping at his hair and pulling him closer — you were so close, just a few more laps of his expert tongue and you’d be coming on his face in no time, with your thighs trapping his head in place and convulsing under his touch.
But Leon had other ideas. He likes to take his time with you, edging you multiple times so that when you finally do come, it’s powerful and intense and mind blowing. Plus he had been away on an operation for the last few weeks and had only just got back last night, so he definitely didn’t want to rush.
He pried himself away from your pussy, sitting up on his knees to look down at you with lust filled eyes. His nose, mouth and jaw were covered in your slick and you watched him lick his lips before wiping his face with the nook of his elbow.
“Ah that hit the spot,” he sighs as if he just had a refreshing sip of cold beer on a hot day. You were panting and desperate for a release just a second ago but his silly commentary had you rolling your eyes and frowning at him.
“If you’re going to say things like that, I think you should just keep your mouth busy.”
“What? You taste good?” He defended himself but the slight smirk on his face showed that he knew exactly what he was doing. Part of you wants to kick him, the other part of you wants to sit on his face and stop him from speaking altogether... Maybe there was another little part of you that secretly adored how silly he was.
“I’m never letting you go down on me again,” you huff, rolling over onto your stomach and burying your flustered face into your pillow. Leon was quick to lean down and bite your ass cheek, leaving a ring of teeth marks on you before kissing his way up your spine, over your shoulder, along your neck and up to your ear where he whispered:
“Oh we’ll see about that.”
—————————————————————
Bottom!Leon
Your knees bruised as you knelt on the floor between Leon’s meaty thighs, your nails lightly raking up and down the muscles as your throat constricted around his cock. You had gotten so much better at this, gagging so much less as your throat grew accustomed to his size and shape.
He was big but not uncomfortably so, the thickness was more the challenge than the length. Just how you liked it. Perfect size and shape just like the rest of him.
You could taste the saltiness and bitterness of his precum oozing on the back of your tongue. You looked up through your lashes to get a look at your man, his eyes on you, so expressive. He was watching you intently, pupils blown wide and his lips parted as he panted and moaned. There was a cute shade of red dusted over his cheeks as he watched you suck on him.
Your eyes remained on his, darkening a little as you slipped him further and further into the back of your mouth and further down your throat. Your nose nestled in his neatly trimmed pubes as his entire length was buried inside your mouth.
Leon threw his head back and moaned loudly, squeezing his eyes shut. You moaned around him, smirking to yourself as much as you could with his cock keeping your lips separated. He was so cute when he was like this, so desperate but nervous and shy, so needy. You could tell he wanted to take you and use you by the way his hands twitched, as if itching to bury themselves in your hair and force you to suck him at his own pace. But he was a good boy and knew not to touch.
You pulled your head up, focusing on just the tip now, sucking him hard enough to make him see stars. Which he must have since his toes curled and instead of arching back, he hunched forward, shutting in on himself.
So cute, so needy, such a good—
“Holy moly,” he whimpered out in a shaky breath and you couldn’t help yourself. Pulling off of him completely and covering your face as you snickered into your hand. He whined at the loss of contact and started panting heavily as he looked over you in confusion and concern.
“Babe? Is everything okay?”
“Say that again,” you looked up at him and once he saw the smile on your face he relaxed a little, seeing that you were okay.
“What? Is everything oka—“
“No no, before that. What did you say?”
“I don’t remember? What did I say?”
Somehow this was even funnier, he said it without even realising? You can’t help yourself as you start laughing hysterically, your lust and hunger fading away as you cackle and fall backwards onto the floor, clutching your stomach.
“Babe, what— I was so close, can we get back to it? Please?” He begs adorably and you so desperately want to give him what he wants but—
“Oh my god,” you wheeze, “I love you so much, you goofball.”
“What did I say?” He shifts awkwardly in his seat, clearly looking for more friction, still desperate for release.
“Holy moly,” you tell him but in a mimicking tone as you roll your eyes back and pretend to be Leon. His face turns bright red and he immediately turns his face away from you.
“I did not.” He pouts.
“Did too! Don’t tell me you have amnesia, Leon? Holy moly that would be terrible!” You tease, still laughing as you plan to have the next month or so contain those two little words until you grow tired of them.
“My dick’s going soft…”
“I’m sorry I’m sorry! It was just so cute and random. I loved it.” You smile up at him with tears in your eyes, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. He looks into your eyes and you can see the embarrassment, worried you’ve gone too far, but his eyes also show endearment, and you’ve always known he loves seeing you smile and laugh, even if it’s at his own expense. “I’d like to make you say it a lot more~” you whisper to him in his ear seductively, trying to bring the mood back, but he groans.
“I’m going to take care of this in the shower.” He stands up from his seat and covers his flushed face behind his hand as he walks away.
“Aw come on!”
“You can join me if you decide to be nice.” He tried to bargain.
STOP FILLING THE DMC TAG WITH YOUR AI CRAP! I WANT TO SEE STORIES AND ART CREATED BY ACTUAL PEOPLE, NOT SOME SPAMMED UNCANNY VALLEY VERGIL AND SCREESHOTS OF WHAT IS FRANKLY THE SAME BLOCK OF SMUTTY TEXT IN VARIOUS CONFIGURATIONS.
I’ve been always thinking about husband!Leon (maybe infinite darkness or death island Leon, I will leave that to you) just coming home after a long mission, so reader runs a bath and help him relieve his stress in many ways… y’know 👀.
hope you have a great day!! (i’m sorry i am not good at explaining scenarios😭)
I gotchu, sweet anon. I already had something similar in my notes of what I’ve been dying to write, so you just gave me even more reason to 🤭
Might not add smut, just cause it takes me way too long. Plus we need some more Leon Fluff and Angst. There is a shit load of Leon smut out there (which is all amazing I read so much of it lol) I just wanna give some variety! Hope that’s alright with you Anon!
