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ghosts-cant-sleep · 3 months ago

Note

unrequited love with male reader having feelings for Leon but Leon has feelings for Ada

i've hoarded your name in my mouth for months

leon kennedy [re4] x male! reader warnings: yearnmaxxing, mc is awkwardly put into a pre-existing scene but its okay but the intention is for you to feel uncomfortable, i listened to a lot of kimya dawson while writing this. so. notes: anon you single handedly found every single trigger word in my brain, i owe you all my worldly belongings

fem dni

"Who was she?" His voice scratched against his throat, creating an awkward, unpleasant sound, mouth dry and weak with lack of use. At this point, [Name] was just begging to have his feelings hurt.

But he couldn't keep his focus in check. Like a thirsty hound in sweltering heat, eyeing its bowl of water, Leon sat right across from him. Their desks shoved together, wires of their respective computers entangling themselves, stuffed in the space between them.

Leon's eyes are reluctant to meet [Name]'s, his chin rising before his gaze catches up. The warmth from the desklamp and the blinding blue light from his computer meet on the planes of Leon's face like a painting. They catch in his hair, casting it in it's hues as tousled locs fall over his brow, highlight the contours of his cheeks, deepen the creases beneath his eyes while his brows pinch together. He considers the question for a moment, pen stilling mid letter. "She...?"

[Name]'s pen anxiously rolls between his fingers, palms growing clammy, making his skin feel sticky. He wanted to take the question back as soon as his eyes met Leon's. He didn't mean it, he didnt really want to know, but the question had plaqued mind for weeks now. He didn't care how badly the answer would hurt him. He just needed an answer.

"Uhm, like that woman, I mean. The, uh, the one from Spain." Dread swells in his throat. He tries to clear it with a dry cough. His hands slip beneath the table in a way he hopes is casual, palms drying themselves against his jeans.

He pretends not to remember her name, like it'd make the truth easier to bear, like the sound of her name falling of Leon's tongue hadn't been rotting in the back of his mind since.

He can't even begin to comprehend where his mind had managed to twist all of this the entire time. It made him feel sick, embarrassed to even think about. Leon was his coworker at the least and a good friend at most. How can a single man manage to be that delusional? Twisting every little meaningless moment into a sign, a glimmer of hope for whatever deluded rom-com he thought this was.

But god, he really swore sometime that he could feel it-- really feel it.

During late nights just like this, catching up on whatever boring bureaucratic paperwork their missions came with, alone in a dimly lit office, muttering to each other like every word that left their tounge was some grave secret, leaning over desks, smiling like fools, nearly nose to nose.

"Oh."

Spain wasn't a mission either regarded fondly. They never spoke on it, not to anyone, not even to each other. Grotesque bodies twisted into horrid creatures better left to the imagination had burned itself into their brains. There was a unique sort of fear it'd conjured up in the pits of his stomach. That feeling came back every so often, waking him in a cold sweat, a shriek of fear catching in his throat as he meets his empty, desolate bedroom. It was a shit show.

"I mean, you don't have to like, tell me or anything-- I'm sorry for asking, it's not my place, I was just... I don't know."

Nauseating notions of love and affection had been harbored behind [Name]'s ribs. The lines of want and need blurred indefinitely whenever his eyes settled on Leon, whether it be the lines of his back as he moved, or the small grin he tried to force back to keep up whatever dorky 'cool guy shtick' he thought people fell for.

The impulse to let his thoughts be known, to scream and shout, to hum them through through a shakey melody, to sob them out into Leon's lap, grew stronger and stronger whenever [Name] felt the heat of Leon's body against his own. Fingers brushing together in a breath of a touch, bumping against each other as they walked, crammed together into whatever impossibly inconvenient vehicle they had at their disposal; knees knocking together, shoulders squished, broad back against chest.

And he nearly did let it all out. They'd been through many near death experiences together, yet this one was the breaking point. This one was the one that scared [Name] down to his bone.

Humid air and muggy water clung thick to his skin, sweat and lake dripping down the bridge of his nose as his hands clutched at the soggy fabric of Leon's shirt. His hair was dripping wet, a few shades darker, put cold as his head fell into [Name]'s lap. Blood violently hacked out seeped into the cracks of the blond's lips.

The boat they resided in swayed and rocked despite the earrie stillness of the water. Blood floated in clouds suspended in the water, surrounding them.

He'd dragged Leon's dead weight out of the flooding boat onto the rickety wooden platforms of the boathouse. The stentch of old, rotting fish surrounded them, yet most suffocatingly, the fear of what Leon was even going through, what he'd failed to let him in on.

[Name]'s hands stayed on Leon. An innocent hand on his chest, making sure it rises and falls, a gentle touch against the thin skin of his neck, a finger hovering over his top lip, feeling the shallow breath hit his skin.

And just like that, the second Leon came to, gasping for breath as his body lurched forward, was the same second [Name]'s mind decided it wouldn't do to hoard that aching yearn that rested heavy in his chest, like it was eating him from the inside out.

"It's fine," his tone feigns indifference, waving off [Name]'s uncertain blabbering with a wave of his hand, silencing him then and there like a well trained dog. His gaze leaves [Name] and settles back on the papers, but his pen doesn't move. "She's just a merc. Met her a few years back."

[Name] hums, fingers fiddling with the folds of his jeans stretched across his lap. He nods, teeth sinking into his bottom lip so hard he almost draws blood. He was better than this. He was more mature than this. He wasn't still some lovesick school boy fixing to throw a fit. Right?

"Yeah, that makes sense." He sounds smaller now. "I dunno, I guess I just thought the two of you were close. Guess I was wrong...?"

"Hm."

Whatever 'plan' he had conceived while trudging their way through that village, letting it furthe waste away behind thick forest had died shortly thereafter. When he saw her.

In a castle acquainted midway between opulence and decay. It stood out in comparison to whatever humble community used to reside on the other side of its stone walls, one built from rudimentary inventions, or brick and wood, of community, of labor. The castles corridors were filled with death, twisting labyrinths covered in marble and gold.

There was a dread that followed him like out of time footsteps as his feet hit the cracked floors beneath him. He tried desperately to ignore it, but it hung over his head like an omen.

It was one he should've paid more attention to, one he shouldn't have pushed to the back of his attention-- focusing instead of the suits of armor that towered over him, on the distant sounds of metal squeaking against itself, on Leon.

In spite of it all, of failure risked at every turn available, of the thick smell of dust and cobwebs, of creaking floorboards, his heart sunk only whe his eyes settled on her.

"You can stop right there, Leon." The lul of her voice was cold, almost bored, but there was a playful fondness settled in her throat.

She was gorgeous. He hated it.

A red knit dress hugged the curves of her form, its ridges following down the line of her body, sleaves following through the elegant length of her arm, stopping just where her hand met her gun.

The leather of her glove squeaked as he grip tightened, the cold barrel brushing against the fabric of Leon's shirt as she stepped closer-- a warning, a tease.

"Wouldn't make me use this, would you?" The heel of her boots clicked against the hardwood. Her hair laid effortlessly perfect, brushing against the base of her neck. It looked soft, framing her face, skin dewy, and flushed. The depths of her eyes, dark and brooding, held Leon in place without even having to face her. the candles, flame flickering against her form, made her glow.

[Name] was offered no more than a glance. He stood there, frozen, foolishly more perturbed by the familiarity held in her voice than the gun she wielded. He was no threat to her. Wide-eyed, dejected puppy dog look he gave her was evidence enough.

Leon's eyes fluttered at the sound of her voice, a deep breath sucked in between his teeth, like he hadn't been able to breathe before he heard her voice-- or maybe it was her perfume in the air. The corners of his lips twitch, teasing a grin. "Well, after six years, that's a hell of a greeting, Ada."

Leon hissed out her name like he'd rather be rid of it, but it was an obvious farce. [Name] had grown to know very well the same lilt of fondness and longing that very clearly had wrapped their stubborn hands around Leon's neck. It was obvious, even in the tiniest ways.

It made him feel sick. He just stood there and watched, lips parted like he'd ever had something useful to say in the first place. He watched like an idiot while these two... Hell, he didn't even know.

It was utterly loathsome how well they fit together. When they spoke, when they moved, predicting every breath with practiced eased-- No, not even practiced, but something else, something worse, like second nature, like it was thoughtless. They just knew.

Each strike was just narrowly ducked beneath, leather squeeked beneath a calloused grip, a hand closing around her thin wrist, pulling her close, and empty threat of a blade against her neck, the same way her finger hadn't once grazed the trigger.

"Try using knives next time." Something about Leon's hand on her nearly set [Name] off right where he stood. Ot was firm but far from harsh or cruel. It was savoring, reverent, relieving to have her skin against his, even just like this.

"Not a bad move." A grin ghosts her features. Try as she might to fight it off, it settles beneath her skin, eyes crinkling, and [Name]'s sure her pulse beneagh his hand quickens the same way his always did. "Very smooth."

"So who are you working for this time?" Even Leon's own voice carries the weight of desire. Desire not like how [Name] yearned day and night, but like light tease, like flirty smiles, like foreplay.

"Oh, Leon," his name drips of her tongue like a poem, pain and reluctant covertness and heat all heard in the breath she sighed out. Her head lulls to the side, blinking in his gaze like a cat. The look they shared more than made up for what they'd lost in the six years, whatever the hell that was even supposed to mean. "You know I don't work and tell."

Everything else feels fuzzy.

At that moment, he felt as though the castle walls were crumbling in on him, burying him beneagh rubble and dust, the ground ready to fall beneath his feat and swallow him into the earth. He wished it did.

Something about that woman was easy to get suck in someone's head. Her voice, ao soft, so painfully sensual, striking down the center of his brain like ear bleeding static he wished would stop.

Even his own gaze couldn't stop from following her form out the window, her eyes meeting his in a fleeting glace of pity. Fucking pitty.

Was he really that obvious? How desperate he wanted Leon? Hell, how desperately he wanted to be her, just in that very second? Maybe, just maybe, if he were a girl just half as pretty as her, if he had her confidence, her shiny black hair, that voice, if he were here, then maybe Leon would want him back.

He feels like a child as he keeps a lump stuck down in his throat. It's almost painful. He doesn't trust himself to not speak, for his voice to stay steady, for his desperation to not make Itself known.

His jaw clenches as his teeth grind together. Neither of them deserved the senseless anger that reared it's ugly head inside his gut, but anger was easier to feel that disappointed. He braves himself a glance towards Leon.

Leon, who without a word, picks up his discarded gun off the floor, like nothing had even happened. Whose gaze first settles on the empty window, its framed panes swinging in the breeze, the [Name]'s, and there's nothing when they finally lock.

Quick as that, the realization dawns on him. All those late nights they spent together, hours stretching into the early morning were just work, all glances were just eyes aimlessly wondering in a need to cure boredom, touches, fingers brushing, shoulders knocking, all just mistakes, all fleeting moments were just that. Fleeting moments, not meant to extend past that brief second. They meant nothing.

Whatever sappy speech he'd prepared was stuffed back down his throat. He'd sooner die than hurt himself by entertaining the idea of him and Leon, so he clutched at his chest, feeling everything writhe beneath his skin, desperate, yearning, wanting. They clugged up his lungs, swollowed back like thick tar as they crept up his throat. He'd either suffer or allow them to die behind his mouth, drowning to silence himself, letting it weigh his body down further into the ground.

He couldn't help but be relieved for all the wrong sorts of reasons when that damned island finally went up in flames. It warmed the cast sea surrounding them now, at just the safe distance from the destruction.

That sluggish mess in his chest swelled and bubbled and screamed as he saw Leon. His hair caught the glow of the rising sun stretching its rays out behind the horizon , the water reflecting back in the grayish hues of his eyes, the sleep that pulled heavy at his lids, the bags beneath them, that reluctant look of relief. A tired grin played at his features, crooked teeth peaking out behind a crumpled smile.

Leon similarly peered over his shoulder, right back at [Name] and just... Looked.

#*doesnt post for another 6 months*#resident evil x reader #resident evil #resident evil x male reader #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 x reader #resident evil 4 x male reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x male reader #leon x reader #leon x male reader #x male reader #male reader

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theoldoor · 6 months ago

Text

oh god their hugs… THEIR HUGGSSS AAARRRGGHHH (beats and punch the wllas and dies) (more rambles down below pls read imsick)

theyre so tender and gentle with one another im actually sick and i want to die and i want them to die and i want them to i want them t

FUCKKK THEYRE NOT EVEN CANON i didnt write for aventurine and fenrir to be canonically together romantically and everything i post about them is literally just me acting like a fellow shipper and as if fenrir was canon “theyre so canon” but i literally wrote them to not be canon this post is just going to be indulgences, headcanons abt them bc i know they wont act like this but please let me have some crumbs im literally yearnmaxxing rn

i know i posted this yesterday but i want to expand more on it because yesterday i was in a rush while making that post RUGHGHUG

you know boothill visits talia every now and then, he’s a galaxy ranger and talia from what i’ve seen is going to be western themed or at least like steampunk/western/rdr2 type shit so he’s going to crash by. Fenrir, is there of course, with Hermia. Fenrir has been taking care of Hermia alone for all the years he had been in Talia - Boothill met Hermia once, and she reminded him a lot of how he was when he was younger but she was left alone unlike him being in the care of Graey and Nick. Boothill knows he shouldn’t get attached to the girl, but she was just a little child, so for the short time he had been there he would come visit Avidity often to check up on her - he does miss his daughter.

Though, he when he returned another time, he saw Fenrir. He hated Fenrir at first, considering his cold-blooded and indifference to the situation Avidity was in at the time. However, he would also see how gentle and caring Fenrir was when it comes to Hermia, and then he sees - Fenrir was a survivor, doing everything to live in Talia - especially in such a rugged clan and yet he didn’t let that overshadow his humanity. It’s a hard thing to accept about Fenrir, how he could be so cruel and yet so caring. He was still inherently bad, even if his reasons explains it - it doesn’t justifies.

I want for boothill and Fenrir to have that father-son relationship and Fenrir is Hermia’s brother. You know a little happy family. (IM FUCKIN SICK I HATE FOUDN FAMILY I HATE FOUND FAMILY I FAHATE TAKHTAHHAHTHE). Fenrir is the ‘cool older brother’ who gets you in silly troubles and is awfully attentive and Aventurine would come in later and keep him in line so that he wouldn’t cause too much silly shits.

I never knew Nick and Graey dynamic, but I guess it’s something of the same. Nick being the one who taught Boothill how to ride horses and yk the outdoorsy stuff while Graey took care of the gentler and more domestic skills for Boothill. (theyre so bestfriends am i right) - I could see Nick being the Fenrir and Graey being the Aventurine lol and Boothill seeing them together- it’s kinda like. Even in the worst, there will be humanity. Aventurine and Fenrir are both inherently bad and had blood on their hand, but that doesn’t mean those same hands can care and heals.

i NEED THEM DEAD and theyre literally just comforting each other and taking care the others sh wounds im going to jumpp and die

fenrir would be the type to do some stupid shit or say something so outrageously idiotic that makes u forget u were supposed to have a panic attack i love them i will expand more on this… tmr’s post….

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