#leon kennedy ficlet

[courtofparrots]

Serennedy Pride Week Day 1: First Kiss

A little ficlet of Leon and Luis recovering in the hospital post-Spain

When Luis got hurt- when it looked like he had died- Leon didn’t think he’d be able to bear it this time. 

Don’t get attached he’d repeated to himself, but he hadn’t been able to help it. Not with Luis, anyway. Not with that loud personality, that charming smile, that- everything about him, really.

But Luis hadn’t died as he’d just come to find out. For once, Leon didn’t have to bear another loss, and now he didn’t know how to act.

He stood motionless in the doorway to Luis’s hospital room in some BSAA-owned facility in some corner of Europe that they had been dumped at for medical attention after the chopper had picked up him and Ashley. He’d overheard talk of another man being pulled out of Valdelobos and brought here, allegedly the only other survivor found that night. He was positive it wouldn’t be Luis. With Leon’s luck it was probably Krauser, or worse. He was so sure that when he walked into the room and saw Luis there, covered in tubes and tape and the slow but steady beep beep beep of a heart monitor indicating life, Leon had simply frozen.  

A pair of gray eyes drifted open, and Leon thought he might have stopped breathing then. A sleepy smile pulled up the corners of Luis’s mouth as he caught sight of Leon, “not dead, eh?” he croaked, snapping Leon out of his stupor. He skulked over to the bedside of the beat up Spaniard, pulling up a chair and sitting down at a reasonable distance.

“Who? You or me?” Leon asked, as nonchalantly as he could, twitching his hand in the direction of Luis’s where it was pressed against his side with an IV needle poking out of it, covered in tape that would be sure to yank all of the thin black hairs out when it was removed. He thought better of it before he could actually touch him, and let his hand drop back to his side awkwardly. Luis tracked the motion with his eyes.

“Me.” Luis said, scooting his hand to the edge of the bed and weakly raising his fingers, moving them shakily toward Leon’s dropped hand. Leon did actually reach out this time, if only because he didn’t like the way Luis was straining. He slid his hand underneath the Spaniard’s and began to rub back and forth across tan fingers with his thumb in a stilted motion, attempting and probably failing to be soothing. It was nice. The weight and warmth of Luis’s hand in his own, a simple yet invaluable reminder that Luis really had made it, even in this subpar condition.

“I wasn’t sure I was going to make it for a moment there,” Luis chuckled, “although maybe I should have been worried about you, too. You look like shit, Sancho.”

Leon couldn’t help the smirk that tugged his lips at that, “I promise you look worse.” 

They settled into companionable conversation for a moment, Leon still holding Luis’s hand- the same one he’d held when he thought Luis was experiencing his final moments, he realized. Luis told him about the extent of his injuries, a collapsed lung and lots of lost blood, and Leon filled Luis in on what happened after he left the mines. How he’d saved Ashley, and killed Saddler, how they managed to cure their plagas with Luis’s equipment.

“By the way,” Leon said after a lull, curiosity thumping in his chest, “you said we were almost something. Before Krauser stabbed you. Almost what?”

Luis looked sheepish for a second, before finally replying, “Friends. I was… I was going to say we’re almost friends.”

“Friends? It feels like a little more than that,” Leon said, flicking his gaze down to their joined hands, “doesn’t it?” 

He felt his face heat up as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Luis’s eyes were wide when he looked back up, searching his face for something. 

Maybe the hospital wasn’t the right place for a confession. Maybe thirty-six hours together and several near-death experiences didn’t qualify a bond like the one Leon felt spark in his chest every time he looked at Luis. 

Leon had tried not to get attached but he hadn’t been able to help himself. There was something there with Luis, that he hadn’t felt in… maybe ever. Leon wasn’t going to just let it go without saying anything, not when he had Luis back and safe. He’d blame it on the pain meds the doctors had given him, or temporary insanity, or something if Luis didn’t feel the same way.

The beep beep beep of Luis’s heart monitor sped up slightly. 

“What?” He asked, in barely a whisper, “more?”

“I mean, if you wanted,” Leon said, clearing his throat, “I wouldn’t mind trying. To be more, I mean.”

Luis seemed to surge forward suddenly, before wincing and falling back onto his pillow with a pained groan like he had momentarily forgotten he was badly injured. Leon took his cue.

“Easy there, Don Quixote.” He murmured, rising out of his chair and leaning into Luis’s space, one forearm braced on the pillow beside Luis’s head, a palm placed gently on his warm cheek. Leon let his eyes drop down to Luis’s lips and then back up, letting the question show in his eyes.

“Leon,” Luis rasped, “if you don’t kiss me right now, I am going to hurt you, and probably myself in the process.” 

Leon smiled into the kiss when he finally pressed their lips together, joy and relief settling behind his ribs. Luis was alive, he was okay, and he wanted to try being more. He wanted to try with Leon. 

He broke the kiss when the heart monitor turned shrill, a constant beepbeepbeep that made Leon worry he’d disconnected one of the many tubes from Luis’s body on accident, or that he was hurting him somehow.

Luis simply glared at the heart monitor as he let his head drop back onto the pillow. “Pain in my ass,” he muttered at it, “spilling all my secrets.”

Leon actually laughed; the whole situation suddenly made him feel so light. “Feeling a little excited?” He teased, and Luis blushed. It was insanely cute. 

He probably should have given Luis and his poor heart a break then, but he was too happy. Instead, he nudged Luis over and climbed into the bed with him, wrapping an arm over the Spaniard’s shoulder so that they could both be comfortable and drawing Luis’s head onto his shoulder. Luis sighed and melted into him, muscles relaxing and eyes fluttering shut. It wasn’t long before he was fast asleep against Leon’s chest.

Leon took in the deep breaths coming from Luis, the way his lips were slightly parted, the contrast of his dark lashes fanned across tan cheeks. He followed quickly into a deep sleep of his own, one of the best he’d had in years.

[possessionisamyth]

Carlos, at his computer: Trying to think of a way to put this lightly. Leon: Uh huh. Carlos, typing: Dear General Gueiser, I want you dead. Leon, slowly lowering the newspaper: Try again. Carlos: Okay…. I would prefer if your absence was punctuated with the appearance of an obituary. Leon: You can't dress that up in professional language. Carlos: I believe our correspondence would be the most punctual if there were someone else in your managerial position due to your untimely demise. Leon: Mi vida. Carlos: If I had to be put on a CIA watchlist for any reason- Leon: Mi vida, please.

[cloakedsparrow]

RE Headcanon: The Things They Left in Raccoon.

Chris left Raccoon City with the sole intention of gathering evidence against Umbrella. He’d packed discreet clothing that wouldn’t draw attention to him rather than his custom embroidered leather jacket or the vests and t-shirts he favored because they showed off his muscular arms. He’d packed practical items and left behind anything cumbersome, like family photo albums or his favorite guitar. He hadn’t thought much about what he was leaving behind because he’d expected to return home after a few weeks or so. He’d expected said belongs -along with his vinyl collection, expensive entertainment system, stuffed bookshelf, well-loved Jeep, and the afghan & potholders his grandmother had crocheted- to be waiting for him when he did. Instead, his entire apartment was destroyed along with the rest of Raccoon.

He’d had renter’s insurance and auto insurance, but it had been quite a hassle to get them to pay out…especially considering the <i>entire city</i> had been <i>wiped off the map</i>. Even then, some things couldn’t simply be replaced. Claire had a single album full of copies of some of their old family photos, but she’d lived in a small dorm-room. Most of what they had left of their parents and grandparents had been stored at Chris’ place. They’d lost it all along with Raccoon.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jill made it out of Raccoon City with a few trusty guns, a brand new friend, and the clothes on her back. They weren’t even her good clothes or favorite clothes. Between coping with everything that had happened at Spencer Manor, being suspended, trying to subtly investigate their corrupted police chief, and then surviving the <i>goddamn citywide t-virus outbreak</i>, laundry hadn’t exactly been a priority. By the time she found herself fleeing from Nemesis, Jill was down to the mini-skirt and strapless top combo she wore out dancing, the designer little black dress her mother had given her as a graduation gift from the academy, or the bridesmaid dress she’d worn at her brother’s wedding. Had she known her apartment was going to be blown to vapor, she would’ve gone with the black dress.

As it was, she’d lost everything. She could probably get back most of the family photos from her family, at least, and things like her favorite DVDs and CDs could be replaced. However, some items had sentimental value that couldn’t be replaced. The souvenirs her parents has brought her from various vacations. Trinkets she’d gathered during her own travels. Photos of friends she’d lost touch with after moving to Raccoon City. Everything to remind her of that entire chapter of her life was just gone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Leon’s family had been killed when he was young and the social worker assigned to grab some of his belongings while he was in the hospital hadn’t known him. She’d been considerate enough to grab the folding frame containing two family photos off his parents’ dresser, along with the book and stuffed dog that had been on his bed, to go with about a week’s worth of clothes. He’d been lucky enough to make it though foster care in one piece, his meager belongings had not. He hadn’t accumulated much afterwards, mostly practical items. He’d rented out an apartment in Raccoon City and dropped off his old, worn mattress and desk when he’d picked up his uniform and signed some final paperwork at the precinct. He later packed up everything else he owned in a couple boxes, stuck them in the back of his Jeep, and he drove to his new home.

He’d ended up abandoning his Jeep after his first ever BOW encounter, and both the Jeep and his mostly empty apartment had been destroyed along with Raccoon City. He’d only had liability insurance on the Jeep and no insurance whatsoever on the apartment. It sucked, but he’d had to start his life over with nothing before. He’d do it again.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Claire didn’t live in Raccoon, and the city had been barricaded off for a couple days before she arrived to check on Chris. Trying to convince her auto insurance agency that her motorcycle had been in the city when it was destroyed took <i>forever</i>. Especially since she hadn’t reported it until a couple months after the fact. Eventually, Leon -as a former RCPD officer with an official contract/schedule and a rental agreement to prove he’d been in the city- had to fill out some forms declaring he’d seen her and her bike in the city shortly before it was destroyed and that they’d fled the doomed city without it. Chris had offered to get her a new bike with his own insurance money, but she’d been determined to get her insurance to pay for it on principle by that point. Plus, he was technically jobless and homeless. He’d need the money more than she did.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Barry had gotten his family out of Raccoon with the belief that they wouldn’t be returning. They’d thought their house would still be there, but they’d still grabbed the essentials and then some. He’d gotten all their insurance forms and medical records. His wife had grabbed all the family photos and the little box of the girls’ artwork they’d kept over the years. His daughters had grabbed their favorite toys, books, and videos. They all packed their toiletries and enough clothes to last them a while.

It wasn’t everything, and he knew it would be a long while before the insurance paid out, but he didn’t care. He had his family. He had Chris and Jill. That was more than enough.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Rebecca had decided to go back to school and study virology after the Spencer Manor affair. She’d already left Raccoon City more than a month before it was destroyed. She’d moved back in with her parents temporarily. She had everything she owned. Everything she needed. Everything except for all the people she’d never see again.

[kennedysharper]

leon scott kennedy is actually a hopeless romantic loving and very physically affectionate when not in public or around close friends send tweet

[venomvalley]

For smut week I know we all love the mind blowing leg shaking stuff but I feel like Leon’s the type of guy to do some goofy shit. Imagine reader and Leon just annoying each other or doing something stupid while doing the do because they love each other so much. I have this vivid image of like. Lazy morning sex and Leon reaches over to get a sip of coffee while literally pounding away and then he gets yelled at by reader because that’s NOT what you do! God he is so fucking stupid I love him

this made my heart explode so i just wrote down a bunch of moments instead of one single ficlet. (ive had this in my drafts for a week its time to release him)

18+ only

I.

The hazy warmth of sleep blankets you, and Leon’s already handsy. He slips fingers beneath your shirt, trails them over the curve of your belly, teases the line of your sleep shorts. Yes. Yes, please.

You’re cognizant enough to reach for the lube on the nightstand. He’s leaving this morning, won’t be back for weeks—gotta skip a few steps. 

He fucks you like he’ll miss you. Rolls you onto your stomach, spreads the cheeks of your ass, and slides in. Slick and tight and—

His cellphone rings. You twist your head to glare at him, a silent threat in the narrowing of your eyes. Do not. Do not, Leon—

“Kennedy speaking.”

You stuff your face into the pillow when he sharpens his thrusts, curls a hand around your hip to keep you still. The voice on the line comes through muffled and low, but you can’t make out any words. Trying too hard to keep quiet, and this seems a game to him. How far can he go, how good can he fuck you before you crack. 

“Right. Right… of course, sir.”

Heat coils in your gut, quickens your breath, and the position of your body and his hips force him right up against sensitive nerves. Fuck. Fuck, he’s got you right where he wants you. 

“Yes. I’ll be there.”

You whine into the pillow, chew on the fabric to silence your noises, until he says goodbye and slides both hands up to your shoulder blades, pressing you into the bed.

“Sorry about that.” Only now does he allow his voice to shake, his breathing to heavy. “A change of plans.”

You can barely focus with his hips slapping against your ass, the noisy glide of his cock making you clench around him. Can barely rub two braincells together, being fucked like this. “Fuck—what was it?”

“You get to keep me another day, I’m afraid.”

That pulls a laugh from you, and he digs his face into your shoulder, curls a hand around your waist, presses a kiss to the pulse of your neck.

“God, how horrible.”

II.

Set the scene: he’s bent you over the kitchen island, ten minutes in from a date. Has you stripped from the waist down, hips pressed up against the lip of the counter, pounds you until your body jolts.

You spot the takeout cup filled halfway with your post-dinner milkshake. You’re thirsty from all the moaning, and it’s probably melting. Why wouldn’t you reach for it? Take a little sip?

But he acts like you’ve committed a crime. Stops in his tracks, bottoms out inside you and says, “What are you doing?”

“I’m thirsty.”

“You’re gonna cut your mouth on the straw.”

“Then go slower.” You glance back at him, lips bitten between your teeth to keep a smile at bay, and the purse of his lips ruins the effect of his glare. “Want some?”

He exhales a sigh but takes the cup anyway, and you turn back around to balance against the countertop when his thrusts continue, deep and heavy and slick, and you reach between your legs to caress and massage and stroke—so close—a little more—

He slurps through the straw, and you think he’ll stop once he realizes, but he doesn’t. He keeps going, and you lose focus, the edge of your orgasm.

“Leon.”

“What?”

“Can you stop?” You turn to glare at him, and he hands your milkshake back to you. Completely empty. “Seriously?”

“You distracted me,” he says, a little breathless, red-faced, and you can’t stay mad at him. Not when he slips a hand between your legs and leans forward to suckle a spot on your shoulder, mouth ice cold from the milkshake. “I’ll make it up to you.”

III.

“Leon! Stop tickling my feet!”

“I can’t help it. They’re right here.”

Oh, yeah. What a fantastic idea. Reverse cowgirl, a new position, a kindness from you to give him a good view. And he’s gone and ruined it.

He runs his fingertips down your sole yet again and you cackle, kick him awkwardly in the side. On accident, you swear.

“Leon—“ you move to slide off his length, and he grips tight to your waist. Panicked.

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop.”

IV.

You’ve a mouth stuffed full with his dick, and all he cares about is the fucking movie playing on the television. You’ve seen it before—it’s not even good, but for some reason he’s been enraptured. 

You manage to draw his attention back for a few minutes, and just when he starts getting into it—pretty noises, face darkening with blush, thighs tensing—he’ll glance back up. Pat you on the shoulder. Say, “Wait, this part looks good.”

Unintentionally edging himself, and it would be hilarious if your jaw wasn’t aching at this point.

Halfway through the movie, you decide to give up and get off your sore knees. You join him on the couch, and he doesn’t even notice. Gives you little more than a short glance and a smile.

But he makes it up to you once the credits begin to roll.

[herbs-and-poultices]

A few nights ago I had a random thought, and it accidentally spawned a ficlet. Oops?

Fandom: RE2-ish? (I only know these characters and their stories from the h/c fanfiction and a cursory glance through the fanwiki, but they keep sticking in my brain)

Efforts towards accuracy of any kind (canonical, medical, realistic, etc) were minimal

A little hospital bedside vigil. Very soft, mostly comfort, because that's what I've been needing lately.

CW: child pov

“Alright,” Claire murmurs, voice muted to match the efficient quiet of the post-surgical ward. “I'll be there in twenty.” She closes the phone with a click, then looks down at Sherry. 

“Its about my brother. I have to go for a few hours. But you can stay here, if you'd like.” As she speaks she leads Sherry through the door and into the hospital room. Sherry unconsciously sticks to the mahogany-haired college student at the same distance of two plastic chair armrests that over the past hours has come to feel natural - or as natural as anything has lately - as they step around the bed towards the chairs beside the curtained window.

Side by side, Claire wraps an arm over her shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze. Sherry looks up into her warm, sad smile. “You could come with me if you’d rather, but I'm afraid you'd mostly be sitting alone in the office reception. There's a vending machine and a coffee machine and a couple decade-old magazines, but not much else.” Sherry leans in a little bit closer. Of all the things she could want right now, what she least wants is to be alone. Alone with the lumbering hordes of zombies, ghastly imitations of the men and women they had once been; alone with the masses of misshapen flesh that mutated before her eyes into grotesque monsters beyond her wildest nightmares; alone with the terrible shrieks and snarls, the rasps and moans, the sickening squish and menacing shuffle of footsteps that haunted their every movement through the shell of the city she once called home. “The doctor said Leon should be waking up in an hour or so. I'm sure he would appreciate having some company.” 

Leon, Claire calls him familiarly. Leon S. Kennedy, RPD, at your service, he introduced himself to her when they first met; his voice and half-smile were wry, but the nod he gave her was solemn as an oath. All the grown-ups Sherry knows, aside from Mommy and Daddy, are “Doctor”s or “Professor”s or “Mister”s or “Misses”s. She’s probably heard some of their first names in passing, overhearing her parents chatting casually with their colleagues or teachers greeting one another in the halls, but in her mind first names are only for kids, playmates. Even college students like Claire are pushing it. Adults have important grown-up titles for their important grown-up business. So to her, he is Officer Kennedy.

Outside the partly closed door, there is a soft click-clack as a nurse rolls a cart past, followed by a knock and a cheery greeting at a door across the hall. A bird chirps in the tree outside the window. She swallows and bobs her head in a nod. Not really alone, here.

“Good.” Claire pats her shoulder, then releases their partial embrace to back her into one of the thinly-padded chairs. “I'll be back before the end of visiting hours.” On her way she pauses at the bedside, tucking the thin blanket up a little higher and smoothing it out, leaning in to murmur something inaudible; then with a whisper of air from the doorway she is gone.

The flat faux-leather cushioning would be an improvement on the bare hard plastic of the waiting room furniture, if everything didn't feel cold and menacing. The clean sweatshirt Claire found for Sherry is soft and pleasantly dry against her skin; any other contact, other than the hands of her new friends, still feels as though it could dissolve into a hunk of gelatinous writhing flesh or sprout razor-sharp fangs or explode in a spray of gore under her touch. Curling away from the chair back, she pulls her feet up onto the seat and wraps her arms over her knees, resting her cheek in the crook of her elbow. 

Her view is a narrow window between her forearms and blonde bangs. Blurred reflections of blue and teal and lilac slide under the door, keeping time with brisk steps. Now and again another cart goes by with a whirr. Nurses. Doctors. Regular people. Sherry tilts her head to glance around the little room, stopping at the monitor by the bed. On the black screen, colorful lines trace out neat rows of mountains and valleys, up, down, up and down. She doesn't understand the numbers that blink beside them, but the steady dance of the lines is soothing.

After a time, it could have been minutes or it could have been an hour, her eyes start to roam again, tracing the loops in cords and wires coiled behind the screen. Most of them end in empty plugs dangling in the air. A few seem to lead into the wall out of sight. The last one she traces down, down, eventually running alongside a clear plastic tube from another nearby machine with some bags of liquid, over the heap of blankets, and finds herself for the first time properly taking in the figure on the bed.

The cord from the monitor ends in a sensor taped to one finger of his right hand where it lies open at the edge of the mattress; the clear plastic line disappears under the back of his hand. Officer Kennedy is laid on his right side to keep pressure off his injury, one knee bent, right arm stretched out at an angle, face tipped slightly towards his chest as he has unconsciously curled in on himself. His left arm is immobilized at a right angle in a sling strapped over his good shoulder and around his back. The black padded fabric is stark against the cream-colored blanket, the robin-egg blue of the hospital gown, the washed-out tones of his skin. The white edge of a surgical dressing is visible where the strap tugs at the neckline of his gown.

A head taller than Claire, at his full height he towered above Sherry; his squared shoulders and firmly-planted feet stood between her and so many blood-crazed hollow-eyed zombies and horribly mutated monsters, wicked claws and gnashing teeth and slashing knives that would have torn her in two. He was a grown-up, the only one in their little band of survivors, a person who knew things and did things, full of decisiveness and the weight of responsibility. And with the heavy tac vest and duty belt that added bulk to his frame, the gun that fit so naturally in his hands, and his once-sharp uniform emblazoned with the insignia of the Raccoon City Police Department, he was more than that. He was the arm of the law, he was Order and Protection personified. She never felt so small before as she did during those terrible days, and Officer Kennedy was larger than life.

Now, though, his face is nearly level with hers, his medium height not so imposing lying down. In the thin hospital gown and light blanket, without his tac vest and holster and belt, his frame is strong but lean, not quite so unshakably solid as a brick wall the way she remembers it from just early this morning. With his sharp eyes closed and his features relaxed in rest, there could almost be traces of teenage boyishness in the curve of his jaw, the cant of his head, the mop of tousled hair falling across his face. A handful of years back, and she might have imagined him at the local highschool, next to the middle school she attended, shooting hoops on the shared multi-purpose courts during his free periods, waiting on the curb for the 5 o'clock bus with a heavy backpack slung over his shoulder by one precarious strap. And she wonders, for a strange moment, if he might have felt… scared.

A flicker of movement catches her eye, and the outlandish thoughts are gone like a leaf on the breeze: a twitch of eyebrows, followed by a few slow flutters of eyelashes. She waits, nearly holding her breath. For several minutes all is still again, and she wonders if she imagined it. But then his brow wrinkles again and he opens his eyes halfway. His gaze is cloudy and unfocused at first, slits of gray-blue flicking about the room - to the window, over the bed, in the general direction of the door out of sight diagonally behind him, then around again, and yet again more deliberately as though it requires effort to take it all in.

Finally his eyes come to rest on her, fully open now, gaze sharpening into focus.

“O- Officer Kennedy.” Her breath comes out in a rush.

Leon, he mouths a correction. 

She can't bring herself to say anything more around the hard lump growing in her throat. 

He curls the fingers of his outstretched right hand, inviting. His lips move again, this time accompanied by broken fragments of a whisper, rough and painful-sounding but kindly. “C’mere, Sherry.” She stands and crossed the few steps to the bed, shaky on half-asleep legs. Atop the blanket, she tucks herself cautiously into the space between his arm and bent knee, wrapping her arms back around her folded legs. A grunt escapes his throat when her sweatshirt catches momentarily on the velcro of the sling immobilizing his left arm, but when her gaze snaps to his face the wide-eyed look he shoots her is so horrified and apologetic, like he startled a sleeping fawn, that she freezes where she had started pulling back and forces a shaky smile instead of the apology brimming on her lips. His expression relaxes, bit by bit, as she settles herself onto the mattress. She tips her head into her knees and closes her eyes, feeling the subtle warmth from his body inches from her own wrap around her like a shield.

Officer Kennedy's hand traces along her back to rub small soothing circles over her shoulder blade. His chin comes to rest on the top of her head, breaths stirring her hair in even, regular huffs. Tension drips out of her muscles, and a soft sigh worms its way out of her lungs. Her cheek sink to the mattress, and she slowly, carefully, lets herself relax into his chest. If she holds her breath, she can hear the steady beating of his heart.

He hums softly, and the vibrations brush her skin where she leans against him. “You're safe now, kid.”

Safe.

[thedecamerone]

↣ pairing – Leon Kennedy x Ada Wong

↣ status – Complete

↣ genre – Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Established Relationships

↣ rating – G

↣ word count – 652 words

↣ summary – When Leon holds her in bed, she presses in close until the empty spaces between them join together and melt away.

↣ read here on AO3

↣ author’s note – If you want to read a ficlet about Leon and Ada getting a rabbit to love, this one is for you <3

[faust-the-enjoyer]

Masterlist

Started: 17/11/2023

Last updated: 18/4/2024

Detroit: Become Human:

Smut:

♡ Hank Anderson x reader:

Tight

Bioshock Infinite:

fluff:

♡ Booker DeWitt x reader:

Helping Fix Up His Wounds

Smut:

♡ Booker DeWitt x reader:

Loving Touch

Silent Hill/ Dead by Daylight:

Smut:

♡ Pyramid Head x reader:

Pyramid Head NSFW headcanons!

Appetite

Elden Ring:

Fluff:

♡ White-faced/White-mask Varre:

His Gentle Hands

Smut:

♡ White-faced/White-mask Varre:

Unblinking Eyes

Call of Duty:

Fluff:

♡ König x reader:

Sick

♡ Keegan P. Russ x reader:

Keegan+fluff!

Move Date Night!

A Sweet Home

Coffee

T-shirt (Dbf!Keegan)

Safe Haven

Sleeping in your arms

Black and Pink

Mascara

Colonel

♡ Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader:

Short ficlet

Binder

Sex Repulsed!Simon x Ace!reader

Promises

Blooming Love

Head-Turner

Promises

Platonic:

♡ Keegan P. Russ:

Nail polish

Smut:

♡ König x reader:

Care

Big Hands

♡ Keegan P. Russ:

Care

Gentle Touch

Kisses (part 1)

Kisses (part 2)

Drunk dbf!Keegan

Jump

More

Double Smash

Pink Heart

Sweet Sounds

♡ Simon "Ghost" Riley:

More

Indulgence

♡ Keegan P. Russ x Logan walker x reader:

The best mentor

Resident Evil 4 remake:

Fluff:

♡ Leon S. Kennedy:

Rest

Series:

♡ Keegan P. Russ x reader:

A Moment of Joy (no order in the series):

Part 1

Part 2

OCs:

Ibtisam "Sam" Joud

-(heart divider by cafekitsune, other divider by saradika-graphics)!

[ao3feed-adaleon]

shaving

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/PosQz0h by macrophylla Leon is taking a bit longer than usual in the bathroom. Words: 705, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Leon S. Kennedy, Ada Wong Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Ada Wong Additional Tags: Ficlet, Fluff, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Facial Shaving, Established Relationship read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/PosQz0h

[guiltiestlove]

please no tgaac or aai2 spoilers! 🖤

it’s been a while since i’ve had an nsfw/selfship blog so im a bit rusty! but hi!!

my name is sierra!

im 28 and i would prefer interactions from people 21+ but as long as you’re 18+ it’s fine! (absolutely NO minors interacting with this blog!)

i like to write but chronic pain/illnesses are a bitch so more often than not (if i can make anything at all) im just writing Very short drabbles/ficlets!

this is a sideblog, my main is neverquothraven

im a big self shipper and a lot of this blog will be dedicated to that! right now my faves are simon blackquill (#🖤🪶), klavier gavin (#⛓️🎸), and leon kennedy (#💪🏻❤️‍🩹)

currently all my various writings (drabbles, ficlets, headcanons etc) are tagged #my writing

i looove getting spam notifs so never worry about that <3

masterlist of ficlets:

simon blackquill x gn!reader (convict simon, first time, fingering)

simon blackquill x gn!reader (established relationship, blowjob, facefucking)

simon blackquill x fem!reader (established relationship, facesitting)

simon blackquill x masc!reader (established relationship, y/n is a defense attorney, public-ish handjob)

simon blackquill x fem!reader (established relationship, pre-incarcerated virgin 20yo simon)

klavier gavin x fem!reader (established relationship, brat taming, cockwarming)

simon blackquill x gn!reader (sfw, falling in love, simon opening up)

i also will take short requests if anyone is interested for the following (sfw or nsfw)!! or any selfshippy things in general!

ace attorney

simon blackquill x reader

simon blackquill x klavier gavin

klavier gavin x reader

klavier gavin x apollo justice

klavier gavin x ema skye

godot x reader

miles edgeworth x reader

miles edgeworth x phoenix wright

phoenix wright x reader

resident evil

leon kennedy x reader

leon kennedy x ada wong

dungeon meshi

laios touden x reader

the bolded ones are my favorites and the ones i feel like i can characterize the best :) if theres anyone else you’re interested in, feel free to ask! i have not played tgaac, aai2, re5, or re6 yet though! and i’m only on episode 15 of dun meshi

if you would like to claim an emoji or name when sending an anon ask, please feel free! these are the claimed emojis!

🥩 , 🫚

finally! some common(ish) kinks/ships i dont/wont write:

omorashi

scat

incest/step sibling

yandere

ageplay

omegaverse

doctor-patient rp

vore

kristoph x phoenix

maya x phoenix

blackquill x athena

blackquill x phantom

[the-bar-sinister]

A Little Company for Christmas (1505 words) by VickytheSnake, thesavagesabretooth Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ingrid Hunnigan/Leon S. Kennedy Additional Tags: Ficlet, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Getting Together, Teasing, Flirting, Alcohol, POV Ingrid Hunnigan Summary: Ingrid and Leon don't have anyone to spend Christmas with that year, so they spend it together.

-

Snow was falling on the atrium area as Ingrid Hunnigan made her way from the dark interiors of the facility to to the underground employee parking garage. The little grassy area was a brief respite from the halogen lit, linoleum tiled government building, and if she looked up she could see the silvery moon peeking out from behind the dense snow clouds.

The light caught her glasses, blinding her briefly before she pushed them up and stopped to look up at the moon. It always stood out most on a stormy night, in those moments when it peeked through the gloom.

It made for a pretty good view—and thankfully, a fresh view that had nothing to do with the constant video feeds and text documents splashed across her computer in her office. 

"Hey."

The greeting drew her attention to what she'd dismissed as a shadow. Leon Kennedy, leaning against a pillar out of the way, cigarette in hand.

"Well, Well, Mr. Kennedy. Killing your lungs on your off time from killing monsters?" Ingrid drawled playfully as she shifted to face him while still leaning on the edge of the wall. 

"Yep." He blew out a stream of smoke and smiled at her– a grim smile like a slice of moonlight. "Didn't really have much else to be doing."

Ingrid was pretty sure that Kennedy had an apartment. Somewhere close to the facility. Paid for by the US government. Probably monitored by the US government, too. She was also pretty sure that he didn't have any particular guests to have over for Christmas Eve.

"Sounds like a lonely Christmas Eve, Kennedy," she tilted her head to the side in thought. "Mine's pretty lonely too." 

"That's a shame. I wouldn't have guessed, Miss Hunnigan. I'd always imagined you'd be a pretty popular lady." He looked thoughtful, sucking in another long breath of smoke through his pink lips.

She wasn't 'unpopular' in the office, that was for sure. But she wasn't exactly blessed with a thriving social life, not since college. Government positions in highly secured facilities working with highly classified situations—it didn't exactly give you a lot of space to get out there and find common ground with the average populace, much less hit the club.

She smiled wryly, her glasses tipped down her nose. "You'd think that. If you're not doing anything, Kennedy—I've got a bottle of wine at my place that I've been meaning to break into." 

"Is that so?" The grin returned. "Well, if you need somebody to get rid of a bottle of wine for you, you know I have a great disappearing act for one."

"I've heard all kinds of stories about your ability to make wine disappear," Ingrid laughed, pushing her dark hair from her face. "...and I'd get some company for Christmas Eve for the first time in around 3 years." 

He dropped his cigarette on the icy grass and ground it out with his boot. "You know I can't say no to a lady in need. Not one who needs a wine bottle vanished, or some company for Christmas."

"I'm starting to see why they called you the hero of Raccoon City, Kennedy," Ingrid offered her arm. "Escort me to my car? I'll give you a lift."

He smelled like smoke—she never minded a bit of smoke even if it triggered her own wish for a cigarette—and he was certain to get drunk, but she couldn't help but like her agent in the field. Enough to hide some of his dalliances from strict protocol from his higher ups, even. 

He linked his arm with hers, and the cold evening felt just a little warmer as he closed the distance between them.

-

Later, the moon had passed behind the clouds, but Ingrid's apartment was full of warmth and light. The first wine bottle had well and truly vanished, and Leon's smile had lost some of its smirking quality. They had moved from the kitchen to the living room where she'd plugged in some spare lights she'd halfheartedly pinned up the week before. More colorful light illuminated the room along with the warm buzz of alcohol inside her, and she flicked on the television and dropped herself near him on the couch with the remote.

"How much of a festive guy are you?" 

"Festive?" he chuckled. His jacket was off, hung in the corner, and he was stripped to his shirt sleeves, his feet up on her coffee table. "I wish I could say more so, but my old man wasn't much of a holiday guy when I was a kid. So I never really got in the habit of celebrating."

"So I shouldn't bother asking if you want me to put on some cheesy holiday flick? No Grinches? No Peanuts?" she asked with an amused edge to her smile. "...or should I try to muster up enough cheer to inflict them on you while you're drunk?" 

He smiled and waved his hand. "Inflict away! I wouldn't be unhappy to find out what I've been missing– especially if you have another bottle of wine somewhere for my magic trick's encore."

"An encore hmm? Planning on crashing on my couch then?" she flicked on the television and navigated the channels to see what might be on. "I'll see if I can scrounge something up—-it'd mean I had company for Christmas too~." 

"What can I say, it's a comfy couch." He scooted a little closer to her. "And the company's good, too. But you better be careful, if you don't kick me out, I might get the wrong idea."

Ingrid's cheeks flushed just a little…she'd let her hair down from her bun, and had a few drinks—she'd let herself relax around him.

At this point, she wasn't sure what sort of 'wrong idea' could be gotten from such an obvious message. She rested her shoulder against him with a hum. "That'd be terrible, wouldn't it?" 

"You tell me." Leon's flirting was as subtle as his sense of humor, it seemed. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

She scoffed quietly, before settling against him and selecting 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas'. "I think I might be overstating how much of a disaster it'd be. A little." 

Leon grinned his sly little grin. "How would you feel if I tested that?"

"I didn't take you for a scientist," Ingrid leaned towards him with an amused smile. "Alright, I'm interested in putting it to the test. Why not." 

"Since I've got your permission." He chuckled and moved in quickly for a kiss, pressing his lips to hers– and clearly waiting for a reaction.

Ingrid briefly froze up—she expected him to be bold, but somehow he still took her by surprise—but she didn't pull away.

Instead, she leaned into him with a quiet hum and surprised him right back by deepening the kiss to the taste of red wine and peppermint candies. 

Once she started kissing him back, all trace of his own stiffness and hesitation melted and he put his arms around her, sucking at her lips and tongue for a long moment before he let her go.

He gave her a coy look, and teased. "Why Miss Hunnigan, you're… beautiful." 

Ingrid caught her breath, brushing her hair back and away from her face with a huff and a raise of her eyebrow. She was flushed—a little breathless too—but couldn't help the smile as she leaned against him again. "I am, it's about time you noticed that. You're alright to look at yourself." 

"Me?" He chuckled. "I'm surprised you'd let a mangy stray like me in here. Surprised– and thrilled."

"I've always liked dogs," Ingrid's smile took on a teasing edge. "Maybe I think I can somewhat housebreak you." 

"In that case, since you're letting me stay, I'll take my boots off while you scrounge up that bottle of wine. And then you can tell me all about this Grinch guy." 

He stood up, and pulled her to her feet along with him, letting her fall against his chest.

Ingrid fell against his warm, strong chest—just as flushed warm as she was with the wine and the kiss—and looped an arm around him to steady herself. 

"He's a green man who hates Christmas and commits a series of violent B&E's." 

"Sounds like I'll need to get my old cuffs out and arrest him then." He grinned and pecked her on the cheek, dragging her toward the kitchen once she was steady on her feet.

If he was this affectionate after one bottle of wine, Ingrid could only imagine him after two. She laughed, leading him into the kitchen with a squeeze around his side. 

"No, no. He learns his lesson after a massive cardiac failure, an—well. That's a spoiler. I'll let you experience it for yourself."

She leaned in and kissed his cheek as they passed the threshold. She couldn't help but be a little excited to find out. 

[downinthehull]

Masterlist;

a masterlist of all my posts for my fandoms! (will be updated regularly)

shows, movies, musicals, and games

Shows:

9-1-1

cg!chimney moodboard

9-1-1: Lone Star

little carlos reyes moodboard

Abbott Elementary

little janine teagues moodboard

little ava coleman headcanons

Galavant

little king richard headcanons

My Two Dads

cg!michael taylor moodboard

Our Flag Means Death

little jim headcanon

small!stede headcanons

small!stede headcanons p.2

Unfinished fic/ficlet (small stede)

little frenchie ficlet

little roach ficlet

easter ficlet (little!izzy, frenchie, and jim)

sleepy izzy ficlet

little ed waking up

little izzy tin can drabble

little ed drabble (cg izzy)

little izzy and ed cowboy drabble

little izzy drabble (mama stede)

little izzy in stede's nightgown

little izzy in the bath

little ed and izzy playing in leaves

little izzy in the garden

cg!stede fixing up izzy's stuffed animal

Schitt's Creek

tiny ted mullens headcanons

random thoughts

Smash

tiny tom levitt moodboard

Superstore

cg (dina, garrett, glenn & jerusha) headcanons

more random headcanons

cg kelly watson moodboard

Ted Lasso

cg roy kent moodboard

Movies:

Glass Onion

little (blanc, peg, whiskey) headcanons

Little Shop of Horrors

little seymour krelborn moodboard

Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium

little henry weston moodboard

Renfield

little renfield headcanons

little renfield moodboard

vent reg renfield moodboard

little renfield paci edits

West Side Story

little maria moodboard

Musicals:

Legally Blonde the musical

little emmett forrest moodboard

Games:

Red Dead Redemption 2

little arthur morgan headcanons

baby arthur morgan (cgs hosea and dutch) hcs

little dutch van der linde headcanons

little hosea matthews headcanons

little micah bell headcanons

Resident Evil

cg!ethan winters headcanons

baby ethan winters headcanons

little leon kennedy headcanons

little leon kennedy (gets a boop)

little leon kennedy (with a pacifer)

The Walking Dead

cg!lee everett moodboard

[cloakedsparrow]

Resident Evil Headcanon: Music

Chris likes classic rock. His favorite is Led Zeppelin but he listens to a lot of bands in this genre. Due to this, he will partially accept the blame for Claire’s Queen obsession. Considering he paid for them to get matching custom jackets, he should probably accept more of it. He prefers vinyl and has an impressive collection. His friends usually buy him records for his birthday, or any time they see a rare one for a good price.

Leon likes 90s-2000s rock. Chris and Claire refer to his tastes as ‘sad rock to kick ass to’ and he can’t really say they’re wrong. He still buys CDs (and has a couple each that Claire, Chris, Ashley, Sherry, Jill, Rebecca, and Sasha like even though he doesn’t share their tastes) but doesn’t have all that many, just his favorites. He also has a well-kept but old stereo system in his apartment that he frequently uses for both news and to listen to music.

Jill likes pop. She used to try to keep her tastes a secret, thinking it didn’t fit with a STARS officer, but then she killed the Tyrant at Spencer Manor and later, Nemesis in Raccoon City. Now, she sings Celine Dion off-key while prepping for an op and blasts Britney or Cher from her headphones while working out at the BSAA gym, confident that she is the biggest BAMF in any room she graces with her presence no matter what she’s listening to. She went full digital early on.

Barry’s musical tastes are all over the place; rock, rockabilly, country, big band, blues... However, his daughters all agree it’s ‘old man music’. He’s fine with this assessment and has liked every track and playlist they send him.

Rebecca either listens to the cheeriest of bubblegum pop or gangsta rap. There is no in-between.

Claire likes 80s rock and old-school glam rock. Queen is her favorite, of course, but she also likes artists like Prince and Bowie.

[sexy-opium-ravioli]

Resident Evil Masterlist

Smut(18+!): 💥

Fluff: 💐

Ficlet: 🌱

Angst: 💀

Headcanons: 🍄

Multi-chapter: 🥀

X Reader: 🌿

Non-x reader: 🌵

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist (Minors dni!! 18+ content only baybes <3<3)

Leon S. Kennedy:

Photo Booth (Stepbro!Leon s. Kennedy)

Morning Sun (Stepbro!Leon s. Kennedy)

Gentle Tides

[whatamonsterfudger]

gonna to write a whole bio soon, just using this as a placeholder for now, and will edit it later. 

- love love love some characters, obsessions or not. my usual fixations are ghostface (more often danny johnson), thomas hewitt, brahms heelshire, vincent sinclair, bubba sawyer (a lot of that family actually ASDFGHJKL but mostly him); recently fixated on simon "ghost" riley and könig (ghost is my stink!! brainrot too real). other cod characters debatable ASDFGHJKL,,,, as far as non-slashers go yk? also leon s. kennedy, chris redfield, and some more i'll list later.

- i am a chronic michael myers hater, tho sometimes i'll reblog fanart involving him. i'm on the fence about rz!michael, that's a whole other conversation.

- i'm absolutely a monsterfucker and will rb ficlets and fanart. beware LOL

- any posts i make will be labeled with #mf speaks; any stories, drabbles, headcanons, etc. will be tagged #leon lilts; any art i draw (will be reblogged from my main) will be #mf does art

I'LL BE BACK TO WRITE MORE, BYEEEEE 💕💕💕

[venomvalley]

hi bestie… that ask you got about chreon x reader upset the brainworm and it would not let me go so i wrote a lil ficlet! u can read it here maybe itll give u inspo hehe BYE MWAH - heartrrot

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/49025779"><strong>comedown</strong></a> (1074 words) by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartrrot"><strong>heartrrot</strong></a><br />Chapters: 1/1<br />Fandom: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Biohazard%20%7C%20Resident%20Evil%20(Gameverse)">Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)</a><br />Rating: Teen And Up Audiences<br />Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings<br />Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Chris Redfield, Leon S. Kennedy/Reader, Chris Redfield/Reader<br />Characters: Leon S. Kennedy, Chris Redfield<br />Additional Tags: Polyamory, Angst, Emotional Hurt, mild comfort im sorry, They all have issues, chris is emotionally constipated (as usual), not proofread but! we move on<br />Summary: <p>a mission gone wrong leaves Chris to grieve another, and that always leaves him cold, impossible. You’ll have to live with that.</p><p>(idk how to describe this but its just a little angsty blurb for this new brainworm that is chreon x reader!! enjoy!!)</p>

OH MY GOD IM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH SPRINTING TOR EAD THIS!!!!’