An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/2
Fandom: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Luis Serra
Characters: Leon S. Kennedy, Luis Serra, Ingrid Hunnigan
Additional Tags: Las Plagas (Resident Evil), Leon S. Kennedy Being Infected by Las Plagas, Infected Leon S. Kennedy, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Established Relationship, Medical Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Leon S. Kennedy Whump, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, Luis Serra Lives, Luis Serra Speaks Spanish, Dissociation, Mental Health Issues, The Amber (Resident Evil 4), Implied/Referenced Sex, BOW Leon S. Kennedy, A love Story, Feel Good Angst
Summary:
Leon's Plaga was too developed to be removed with the laser. In the aftermath he was contained in a lab as Luis struggled to find a cure. Two years later Leon has lost hope....but Luis isn't ready to give up on him yet. He can't let him go...even if it means damning them both. Even if he never forgives him.
Musical Inspiration: “I’ll Be Ok” by Nothing More (this song encapsulates all the themes that will be running through this fic and I highly recommend giving it a listen)
Ayknow how andrias is like blue right? and grime is green and sprig is red-ish?
fancy this:
villain anne.
Anne already defeated Marcy by this point and she's tired after the fight but the
(spoiler they kissed to transfer the nightmare into Anne's body)
plot twist is
As Anne gets to finally have hold of the box again the nightmare took over and possessed Anne's body, took away all the power from the box into Anne's body but Anne can't take it. The others ran to Anne as she falls to the ground but as they got closer they see the power leaking through Anne's mouth and her eyes was changing from normal to the nightmare.
hi! could you maybe write something for muriel where the mc hears him talking to asra about how he doesn’t like the mc’s constant touching and how she talks too much, so the mc completely stops touching him and only speaks when spoken to? and maybe the main six realising more and more that the mc is keeping to herself and trying to find out what’s wrong, but she’s deeply hurt and embarrassed? sorry if that is too specific, it’s a dream i’ve had x
I’m gonna take it you want a she/her apprentice for this one? There aren’t any names here but there are gonna be she/her pronouns! Heads up here!
I wrote a little fic for it. First person since I’m still trying to get a hang of second it’s a work in progress XDD.
This is very angsty with Muriel and Apprentice (kinda ooc Muriel? Idk think of this as towards the start of his route. I love him so much this hurt to write)
Also sorry this didn’t go over everything you asked lol this got a little long but maybe I’ll add more later if y’all want ^^!
Requests are open! Fic and headcanon requests open still check out my pinned post for info!
I hope I did this ask justice XDD lol have fun with the angst!
TW: None.
Tags: Angst, tears, hurt/comfort, good friend Asra, great friend Faust. Lot’s and lot’s of angst.
~~~~
My day started like any other.
Woke up to Asra’s soft snoring and Faust’s little tongue blepping out as they snuggled together on their half of the bed. I was a bit groggy and my body ached, but I got up and ready for the day.
Making breakfast I thought about what I would for the day. Nadia and Portia were out. Julian was making housecalls all day, I didn’t know what Asra was going to do but judging by his snores he would be asleep for a while.
A grin broke it’s way across my face as I thought about visiting Muriel. I’ve been meaning to say hi again to the ladies (the chickens) and give Inanna a gift I had made for her a bit ago.
I finished up breakfast and hurried to get my things together. Surprised, I found no Asra in our bed. He must’ve left while I was eating.
It was no matter, I had a mountain man to see! My heart fluttered a little as I thought about him, he just...he made me so happy.
His little blushes, when he actually smiled. Oh that soft smile was killer. I couldn’t be mad or sad when he gave me that soft little smile.
My skin buzzed as I thought about touching him. Running my hands along his arm as we talked (me talking more, chattering on about what was going on in the shop and what everyone was doing while he listened, nodding along).
I seemed to skip on my way to his house, humming a happy song I heard a while back from Julian.
“Hi little Apprentice! How are you?” Selasi called, smiling at me. I waved vigorously, grinning back at him.
“I’m doing great Selasi! Going to see a friend!”
“Would you like some pumpkin bread for the lucky person? New batch is coming out of the oven now!”
I pursed my lips, fighting back another large grin. “Okay! I brought enough for it anyways!”
“Ohh dear you don’t need to pay I’ll make it special for you!”
“Selasi this is a very poor business you’re running,” I chided with a laugh. “Let me pay for it, please.”
He sighed before laughing. “Stubborn as ever, fine. But it’s half off. Just for you.” He winked, making me roll my eyes. I would not win this fight.
I paid for the bread, Selasi handing it to me in a small bundle. The spices wafted up to my face, making me sigh with happiness.
Selasi laughed, waving me off as I headed back to the forest. “Have fun up there apprentice!”
I waved back with a large smile. “I will!”
It didn’t take long for me to get to the forest and begin my trek through it. My cloak got caught on a few branches but it didn’t do anything to sway my mood. I was determined to stay happy today.
Today was going to be a good day.
Turning against the now beaten path, I spotted Muriel’s hut. I picked up my cloak and started to run, the chickens running around my feet, cooing at me. I bent over to run my hands along their backs. Their feathers were so soft, almost like silk.
I wondered if he used a charm when bathing them, or maybe they just were taken care of so well their feathers reflected it.
“Hey ladies, can you point me in the direction of Muriel?” I asked, one of the chickens squawking like a reply.
I nodded, pretending to understand. “Oh! He’s inside his hut? Thank you darling I’ll head there right away.” Another squawk. “And bring food out. Don’t worry.”
Tucking the bread into my side, I made my way to his door. I wanted to surprise him with the pumpkin bread, he seemed to like it a lot. Even asked Selasi for the recipe (the former replying with a wink saying ‘that’s a family secret’)
I could hear muffled voices when I got to the door. The door was cracked open. I tensed, magic sparking at my fingertips.
Then I heard Asra’s voice and relaxed. I smiled again. He was here! Great! He would be ecstatic over the pumpkin bread I brought.
I snuck closer, listening to their conversation. It sounded heated. I stopped moving. “-I just hate how touchy she is!” Muriel’s voice.
I froze.
Was...was he talking about me? I was the only person to touch him as often as I did but...
“Muriel she doesn’t mean any harm by it! She’s just friendly!”
“Yes but I don’t like it when she gets so close to me like that. Like she’s always got to be touching me or she’ll die.”
I froze.
When Asra dropped my name my blood ran cold in my veins.
“Muriel she’s just being friendly. She loves you and she loves being around you. Touch is how she communicates that!”
“Yes but she talks so much and I never can get away. She always so touchy and always talking. It makes my head hurt. What if I want to be alone?!”
Asra let out a small sigh. “I understand. I know what you’re feeling but Muriel please understand she loves touch and she loves having conversations with you.”
“She just talks too much. Touches too much. It’s all too much.”
Each word was a knife to my heart.
I did talk too much. I did touch him too much. And he hated me for it. Of course he hated me for it.
Tears sprung up in my eyes. I didn’t know any of this. He never told me any of this.
I thought he was fine with it, used to it!
It just hurt so badly.
Swiping at my eyes I turned and started to run. I dropped the pumpkin bread along the way but I didn’t care. I just needed to get away from them. Away from Muriel especially.
I let out a choked sob, tree branches scratching my arms and my cheeks. My tears fell faster and faster, my stomach curdling. All hopes for a good day were dashed.
Tripping on a branch I went sprawling, my cries getting stuck in my throat as I pushed myself to sit upright. My hands were scratched up and they stung but I didn’t care. My cries were silent, my chest heaved and my body trembled.
There was a cracking of twigs to my left. I tensed, but it was only Faust.
Friend?
I sniffed. “I’m fine Faust. Go back to Asra.” She flicked her tongue at me.
Friend hurt!
“Faust I’m fine.” I snapped. She blinked, and she stopped swaying. I wanted to bite back my words. Just because I was hurt and upset didn’t mean I could make her feel like that. “Faust I’m...sorry. I just...”
Muriel? Touch? Friend sad.
I nodded. “Nailed it right on the head.” She slithered closer, curling onto my lap. I ran my hand along her head and down the coil of her body.
Faust help.
“I don’t know if you can help...Muriel hates me. I’m so stupid!” My hands shook. My head was starting to hurt. Dizziness would soon set in. My hands, arms and face were still bleeding.
Friend not stupid! Friend smart!
“Friend hurt another friend by not picking up body language clues.” Faust looked down at my bloodied palms.
Friend needs help.
I smiled, tears rolling down my cheeks. “Yeah. Yeah. I’ll just go home. A-And sleep.” My voice cracked as I spoke. “I want this all to be a dream,” I whispered to the snake on my lap.
The day had just started and I already wanted it to be over.
Faust curled around my arm. Faust come with friend.
I got to my feet, my legs shaking under me. I’d go home, clean up, sleep...and then....figure something out from there.
“Thank you Faust,” I said softly making my way home.
~~
The days after that moved slow and sluggish. Asra watched me, concerned with my wellbeing. I didn’t eat much. And I was sleeping more.
I knew he knew. When he brought back the cheesecloth the bread was in I knew he knew.
He didn’t mention it. We only went about our days.
Me only talking to Faust in fractured sentences. Whenever I saw Muriel I kept silent unless he spoke first.
I never touched anyone, keeping my hands curling into my sides, tucked into my arms.
Just not touching him.
He seemed to notice my behaviour with a wrinkle in his brow and a small huff.
I didn’t care. I didn’t care.
I didn’t care about how my skin ached without touch. I didn’t care about how I wanted to cry every time to open my mouth to give a short answer to a question or conversation.
I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. I didn’t want him to hate me.
Yuri is such a Bitcoin(I was challenged not to curse for 24 hrs don’t mind it :)) she deserves that threat 😂 I’m so happy they stood up against her tbh you should be directing like a drama or something I would personally rate ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️~~~~⭐️star anon⭐️
its okay! she is a bitcoin i agree^^ and geez if i did,,,,, yikes that would be a mess
We all know that Hanahaki disease is a disease where a flower grows in the chest of someone with unrequited love, by what if that trope got even more angst?
Empty Hanahaki is a disease where one suffers from loneliness. Unlike Hanahaki, Empty Hanahaki doesn't cough up petals; it just grows it's vines until they suffocate their host. Whereas Hanahaki disease has it's signature petals, there are no warning signs to Empty Hanahaki. The person with this disease cannot be cured until they feel as if the are no longer alone.
It was a cold winter night, and we curled in the wooden seats of a small café, sipping on mocha and lattes; warming our bodies from the biting cold. Looks traveled from eye to eye, slowly landing on me. I knew what they meant without even having to think. Wasn't that the look we all gave Taehyung before he jumped, out of our reach forever? Yet I wasn't about to jump. Instead, I felt like my feet were nailed to the floor, and each step became a fight between me and what held me down. I was trapped, an Icarus without wings.
‘Yoongi, please listen to us’, Jin's mellow voice grazed my ears, barely a whisper in the void that was my mind. They’re always kind of muffled, things like that. ‘You cannot keep doing this, you are chaining yourself to something you don't want to become’.
Was I? After all this time, was I still unable to let go of the past? I looked at Jin with dead, unemotional eyes and slowly moved them towards the other guys: Jungkook, Jimin, Hoseok, and Namjoon were all watching me in silence. Was I letting them down? Was I becoming something other than myself?
I stood up, fastening my jacket and picking the old tattered book that I had left on the table. I couldn’t stand there much longer, knowing the harm was done. Addressing Jin once again, I spoke with robotic words, ‘I'll be taking my leave. Enjoy your coffee, and be careful when you go back, it's late already’.
As I started walking away, I could barely catch the hushed and shaky whisper that left Jungkook's lips.
‘Did we lose him too, already?’
I turned around and tried my best to act like I had not heard Jungkook's words. Everyone looked expectantly towards where I stood, waiting for me to do or say something.
Waiting for me to be.
I grinned while speaking smoothly, although this too felt alien to me, ‘Don't worry you all, I'll be there for our usual meet, same place, same hour. Now I have to leave, and you too should be on your way soon. It's a promise, alright?’.
I lied.
•••
As I laid on my bed, hours after meeting the boys, tossing and turning, my mind became clouded with thoughts that I couldn't control. Time after time, when night came, I would repeat the same words over and over again: "Did I choose to let go, or was I pushed away? Did I even try to hold on, or did I let the breeze carry me away slowly?"
Maybe Jin was right and I was losing myself in the past. Maybe I was just going crazy...
I decided to get rid of the past. I stood up from my bed and held myself up with the help of a drawer beside it. I could barely stand, but I willed myself to fight the oncoming fear.
“Not now,” I thought, “It doesn’t matter now, so not now.”
My mind kept spinning around and I felt like I was about to puke, but I had to keep going. Everything else didn’t matter. I just had to. Using my hands to find the way through the dark room, I looked for the light switch.
Trembling hands turned on the lights, and I was blinded by the light a few seconds. “Keep going, keep going, keep going!” I kept screaming to myself, fighting off the dizziness, the burning tears quickly approaching. I wanted to stop, I wanted to run, hide. I couldn’t. I went up to my closet and threw open the doors, looking for a backpack. Clothes, shoes, and hats flew around my room as I threw everything out, there was no use in being patient and tidy, there was no use in waiting anymore.
I grabbed my backpack, the one I had shoved into the very back, and started shoving things that I found necessary: clothes changes, a pair of tennis shoes, my cell phone, earphones and charger, and my wallet. Everything else, I left behind. It didn’t matter anymore. I didn’t matter. As I was turning to leave the room, a strange sparkle caught my eye. Something illuminated by the moonlight that desperately grasped in from outside my window, trying to bring me some light. Was I calm now? Was it over?
I walked towards the open drawer and moved the shirt that, in my frenzy, had ended up covering whatever was inside.
The drawer was full of photos, notes and cheap stuff that reminded me of the guys. For a moment, I felt my determination faltering, but I snapped out of it and continued looking the tears freefalling as I did. The object that had caught my attention was a silver ring, only a band, hanging from a chain.
Was it Taehyung's? The memories of him are now blurred and spread all over the place. I hesitated before hastily grabbing the chain and hanging it around my neck. This time, nothing could stop me.
I took a last look at my empty, dark apartment and breathed in the scent of home. There was nothing but air to breathe there. I closed the door and left the keys in their usual hiding spot, maybe to convince myself that things were still normal. Maybe because I still wanted to come back.
I walked away and towards my parked motorcycle. Fixing the helmet over my head, I realized it: There was no turning back this time.
As I sped down the empty streets, every passerby seemed to ooze danger, and every dark alley was covered in menacing shadows. I was afraid.
I'm glad I stumbled across your tumblr. Whenever I'm having a bad day I'll go through your tumblr. Thank you for putting a smile on my face. Your angst is amazing and inspiring.
I love feeding my fans the most delicious angst! I’m super glad I am able to influence positively your day ^___^
I’ll keep the angst coming!
As if I would ever be able to stop ;P
Here, let me give you a tasty bit of a super angsty thing I’m working on: a Soulmate AU where people are tied by red strings.
(more angst under the cut!)
When Madara arrives to the Nakano river for their weekly meeting, it’s to find that oaf of Hashirama moping, sitting on the rocky bank and swinging his naked feet into the water, a dark expression on his face.
Madara’s thoughts immediately go to the last time he found his friend like this and his heart lurches in his chest – that time Hashirama had just lost a brother. Did the only brother he has left…?
The Uchiha might snark and vehemently deny any affection for Hashirama in the other’s presence, but the boy with the atrocious bowl-cut and a heart full of dreams of peace has become his best friend. The thought of Hashirama going through something as awful as losing another brother – the last he has left – pains Madara.
Hesitantly, he approaches Hashirama, standing right beside him. “Hey, Hashirama,” he says, looking down at his friend. “What got you so down?”
Hashirama cranes his neck to look up at him, and Madara is immensely relieved to see that he isn’t crying – it can’t be that bad if Hashirama, prone as he is to tears, isn’t actually crying but only sulking.
Hashirama opens his mouth, already shaking his head, but Madara cuts him: “I don’t want to hear any bullshit about how ‘it doesn’t matter’. I asked, and you are going to tell me what’s bothering you.”
Hashirama frowns, black eyes meeting brown ones, but after a second he sighs and gives in, shoulders drooping. Madara inwardly cheers at being able to shake his friend from whatever dark pit his mind fell into.
“It’s Tobirama. Last week he saw his red string for the first time,” Hashirama says in a quiet, sad voice.
At the mention of the red string of fate, Madara’s eyes automatically fall on his own one, tied in a neat bow at the base of his right pinkie. The string sways with the gentle wind, Madara’s eyes following it until it blurs and seems to vanish into thin air.
Seeing one’s red string is supposed to be a joyous experience – it’s the proof that somewhere on this green earth, at the other end of that string, there’s someone who is their soulmate, a person who is a perfect match for them. Madara looks back up at Hashirama, and a question rises unbidden: in the face of such an auspicious happening, why is Hashirama so sad for his brother?
Is Tobirama’s string cut?
The thought makes Madara feel ill for a moment, and he can’t help but cradle his right hand and his own string to his chest. The thought that one day he might wake up and see it devoid of the slight tension pulling it, dangling limp and lifelessly - he can’t even bear to think about it, that his soulmate might die before he even knows their name. (His name, because Madara at fourteen already knows where his interest lays.)
“Is…” Madara sits down beside Hashirama, observing him carefully for any signs of distress that might confirm his theory. “…is his string cut?”
Hashirama violently startles at the suggestion, cradling his left hand to chest much like Madara did just a moment ago – his string is likely tied to his left pinkie, then.
“No!” he shouts, horrified – but then he hesitates and looks away, kicking the water in frustration. “Maybe it would be better if it were.”
Madara can’t even wrap his mind around that – how can Hashirama hope for his brother’s soulmate to die? “Explain, now,” the Uchiha orders, frowning.
Hashirama sighs again, picking up a stone and turning it between his fingers. “The thing is that Tobirama’s string isn’t tied to his pinkie,” he says, holding up his own left little finger.
“Where, then? His big toe?” Madara asks, trying to make a joke – and he winces at his own failed attempt when Hashirama grimaces and shakes his head. His friend’s eyes are wide and shining with unshed tears when he looks up at Madara, miming choking himself by pressing his thumb and forefinger into his neck. “It’s tied around his neck - like a trap noose, trying to choke him. He says he can breathe just fine, but it’s tied so tightly it cuts the skin and it makes him bleed.” Hashirama’s hand leaves his neck to clench into a fist, knuckles white and bloodless.
“His soulmate is hurting him and I can’t do anything!” he shouts, chucking the stone into the water with anger.
Madara is frozen with horror, gaping. For the very symbol of true love to hurt someone- it’s unthinkable, it’s so wrong it feels like an abomination, like the corruption of something pure and holy the kami gifted them with. “How is he taking it?” he asks quietly, and Hashirama sighs again, carding a hand through his short black hair in obvious frustration.
“He’s Tobirama, how do you think he’s taking it?” he asks in return, his voice dry and rough. “He pretends it doesn’t bother him. He says this is simply a reminder that this soulmate business is just a weakness for a shinobi anyway.”
Hashirama often talks of his little brother, and from his description Madara got the picture of a stubborn little genius who takes too much after the old generation - those world would not be strange coming from his own father’s mouth.
“Does he really think that?” he wonders aloud, and Hashirama gives a bitter chuckle - a sound Madara would have never imagine his friend could make. “That’s what fathers wants to hear, and Tobirama gives it to him.” All tension seems to drain out of Hashirama, who deflates and leans against Madara, his head on the Uchiha’s shoulder. “I think he wants to believe it. Granny said that a string like that means that his soulmate hates him and will likely kill him.” Hashirama makes a tiny sound of distress. “How must it feel to know that your soulmate will never love you but hate you, and try to kill you?”
Madara represses a shiver, squaring his shoulders - he generally doesn’t like physical closeness, but in this precise moment Hashirama’s warmth is very welcome to chase the ghost of death away, and he doesn’t shake the older kid off.
The Uchiha heir doesn’t have an answer for Hashirama. He looks down at his red string and tries to picture it. Picture seeing hate glowing in the eyes of the man at the other end of it, seeing him brace a kunai rather than opening his arms to greet him and- And he quite can’t. It’s wrong, wrong, wrong.
Then he thinks of Izuna, who is Tobirama’s age and has yet to see his own string. He pictures seeing blood well on his throat from an invisible tread, choking him like a dying hare in a trap noose and-
“You need to find his soulmate and kill her. Or him, whatever,” Madara says, voice hard, and the irony of the role reversal isn’t lost on him.
Hashirama freezes against him, going completely rigid. “What…?”
“It’s the only way,” Madara says, standing up. “You can‘t let your brother die. Ask him to swear he will tell you when he meets his soulmate, then kill them.”
Hashirama jumps to his feet, eyes wide and shocked. “How can you ask me to kill Tobirama’s soulmate!”
Madara bares his teeth to his friend, the picture of Izuna’s dying smile in the forefront of his mind - kami knows how often that vision has haunted his nightmares. How can Hashirama not feel the same fear crushing his heart? “I don’t need your grandmother to know that a red string hurting its owner isn’t a good omen! How can his soulmate love him, when their string is killing him! Are you really going to risk Tobirama’s life like that? It’s your duty to protect him! If his soulmate doesn’t kill him, they are bound to hurt him in other ways. Are you going to stand there and let it happen!?”
Hashirama pales, taking a step back - at the ripe age of almost fifteen, he of course must know all the ways humans can hurt each other, physically or not.
“You only have one brother left,” Madara says quietly, and he can’t quite tell if he’s talking to his friend or himself. “Are you going to let him die too?”
Hashirama is silent for a long moment, then shakes his head with decision, his brown eyes never leaving Madara’s black ones, making a silent promise: I won’t.
[continues with a damn lot of angst, because by the time Madara and Tobirama brush each other’s naked skin and see that they’re bound by the same string, Izuna is long since buried and Madara’s hate for Tobirama is an obsession.
There’s a certain, perverse justice in this: their string appeared when they were kids, it was choking Tobirama long before he killed Izuna and thus earned Madara’s hate. Does that mean that Madara was fated to hate Tobirama? That Izuna was fated to die like he did?In the many sleepless night Madara soldiers through, he learns to make a sort of hateful, grieving peace with that.
If Izuna was fated to die, then Tobirama is fated to suffer. The Senju’s pain won’t bring Izuna back, but it eases the darkness rotting Madara’s soul, and that’s enough. Madara will hurt him, will drive him to a painful, slow death.]
