Resident Evil Four - Tumblr Posts

never getting over this... THE SHADING IS SO IMPRESSIVE??

Leon kennedy is so fun to draw

Bloody Dove

You didn't know the effect a vampire's eyes could have on you, or your life. Fooled yourself into thinking you were his pretty little dove, didn't you? Well, all pretty things must rot eventually.

a/n: aight... so... uhm... @eyesofsix UR ART WILL FOREVER HAVE ME IN A CHOKEHOLD... LOOK WHAT U MADE ME DO 😔 this one's short and sweet like u <333

the second pic in the banner of leon is by them, go check them out i cannot tell you how talented they are all my moots are so talented i cant anymore 😭

tw: mentions of blood, character death, gore, stuff like that i dont know if i can classify this as dead dove actually but just in case!

wc: 1.3k

The night was cloaked in darkness, the type only a small, secluded village could offer. The moon hangs low in its humble abode, accompanied by twinkling stars as its silvery light casts eerie shadows that dance up to you, interrupted by an occasional passing car.

It’s so quiet you can hear the wind whispering eerily outside. 

Equally eerie is the man leaning against the light post, eyes reflecting light like twin stars that never leave your motions as you approach. It’s unsettling, to say the least, so after a few minutes, you turn to glare at him.

“Do you need something, sir?” you hiss.

“You’re out late,” he remarks, voice smooth and velvety, carrying a hint of amusement. There’s something hypnotic about his tone, an intensity that makes it hard for you to respond, and his expression tells you nothing more.

“I'm traveling,” you reply grudgingly, trying to make it obvious that you don’t want any small talk.

But his gaze is fluid, languid, uncaring. “Strange time of year to be traveling.”

“Yeah, well, I hear Canada is pretty nice right about now,” you grumble.

Surprisingly, that sparks a soft laugh from him, something unsettling when compared with his mysterious demeanor. The man's lips curl into a sly smile, his eyes glinting with an unknown intent. 

"Aren’t you funny?" he murmurs. 

On second thought, maybe booking a taxi would be better after all. But just as you’re about to pull your phone out of your pocket, he says something that startles you enough into hesitating.

“It’s become far too deserted, here,” he whispers, almost to himself, so quiet you might’ve missed it if you weren’t strangely tuned in to his voice. “It’s been so long since we’ve had a visitor.”

“I’m not staying for long,” you mutter back, almost as soft.

“Leaving so soon?” he attempts, chuckling dryly. You glance at him through the corner of your eye, admiring how his hair falls in neat waves over his eyes, reaching the corners of his lips, when pulled back reveal unnaturally sharp canines. 

“Mhm,” you say absentmindedly, eyes fixed on his teeth. He catches you watching, and his sly smile widens, revealing what, now exposed to more light, resemble glinting fangs. 

“I might just melt," he purrs, his voice sending a sudden spike of heat spearing into your stomach. “Watch your wandering eyes, darling. They might land a sweet girl like you into unwanted trouble.”

“Trouble?” you say, thoughts slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. “What kind of trouble?”

“Why don’t I just show you? After all, I have you right where I want,” he says, twisting to look at you, eyes softening at the corners, mouth quirking up. “You’re bolder than most, I’ll give you that much.”

"Thanks, I guess," you say, shaking your head to clear the strange haze that falls over your thoughts. "I’m not interested, though."

"Not interested?" he repeats, eyes narrowing. "You’re asking for it with those eyes."

"I’m not asking for anything," you reply firmly. "My attention just wandered for a second. It happens."

"Happens, you say?" His tone remains light, but a tightening around his swirling eyes betray his irritation. "I suppose keeping your eyes to yourself happens to be a good idea, no?'"

“I think I will,” you say defiantly, dipping your chin, not as a sign of submission, but of arrogance that you hope irritates him enough to keep him away from you.

But the silence that stretches the minutes into hours only adds to the guilt that slowly drips onto your back, drenching your shirt, an unpleasant feeling that craves to be satiated.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I mean it, sir-”

“Leon,” he interjects, letting his head fall against the metal of the pole. “Please. Not sir.”

“Leon,” you finish, testing out the name on your tongue. It rolls through your mouth like a sweet caramel, or the iron tang of blood. What? “I, uh, didn’t mean it. Really.”

For a long moment he says nothing, studying you through tawny wisps of hair that escape his neat, uniform lines. Then, with obvious reluctance, he shrugs and flashes a cocky grin that fails to reach his eyes. "As you wish, little dove. No harm done."

Of course, no harm done is never the end.

Not for you. You convince yourself that you have control over everything.

But those eyes…

How could you ever say no to those eyes?

<><><><>

Your opulent surroundings seem normal, as if silently mocking you, the tales of your past seeming to drip from the pearls of blood, running into crimson rivulets from where Leon’s teeth pierce your skin.

“You don’t put up much of a fight, do you?” he muses, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, smearing your memories across his face. In some twisted way, you admit he looks good. “I might start to assume you like this little game we’re playing.”

His eyes refract the little light that passes through your own, turning them an odd shade of green, emerald against your pale skin.

“You shouldn’t, you know,” he whispers, breath tickling your neck, fanning across your strained muscles. “Give in, this quickly. What would happen if someone else got their hands on you?”

The idea seems to spark through his mind, the consequences, everything that might happen, just as he says it. His fingers curl around your arm, and something’s switched.

You wonder why he has such an effect on you, why he’s gotten you helpless under his touch, just the ghosts of his fingertips everywhere. Your aunt must be wondering where the hell you are.

Heaven, you think, intoxicated on a feeling you can’t grasp the word for. Your life drains from every star he pecks into your scarred, far from pristine skin that seems to stretch for miles, being marked like a map.

Leon’s lips find the mountains, follow the rivers, murmur soft, loving compliments against the lakes and ponds between your legs, pooling everything that you feel, caged in his arms and legs, spread out for him to explore.

"Trouble seems to find you regardless, my dear. Perhaps it's in your best interest to remain… unfound, for now,” he suggests.

"And what would keep me from running?” you muse, mind already floating to another plane of existence, staring back down at you, ascending through dimensions.

He smiles, small and mirthless. "Trust is a luxury. I would like to think that you would enjoy being with me forever, no?" His voice sings like bees buzzing, like their sticky honey in your ears, dripping from his tongue, sweet like his words and the pout of his lips as he shifts to nose your chin. 

“Think of how sad I would be if you left. It isn’t healthy, growing so attached to a little dove I’ve met so quickly and must release so soon.”

So you’ve become his anchor to peace, kept in the room of his heart, if only for a moment while you sing cries of pleasure. You can tell from the desperation clear in his voice, close to falling apart, that it’s been quite a while since this has happened.

But before you realize it, your short life soaks his sheets, painting your story in a redundant shade of ruby that sparkles in the moon’s smile.

And you slip from his embrace, the bloody, broken dove he carved you into with his fingers, sharp arrows that shot you from the night sky.

<><><><>

 He doesn’t notice the roll of your eyes until it’s too late. Until you’ve gone limp in his hands, cradled in his arms. He doesn’t understand why you aren’t responding to his gentle nudges until he presses his nose to your throat.

There is no movement. No pulse.

It feels as if the world is his symphony, his to keep, to cherish. Everything around him stills and takes a breath, watching you in your dying glory. 

Leon sighs wearily, slightly disappointed.

He had hoped you would’ve lasted longer than that.