Metaltango - Tumblr Posts - Page 2
just realized i never reblogged this??
KREON - TROUBLE
or, how Leon Kennedy knew he was fucked.
cw: woundfucking, religious themes if u squint, uhm power imbalance? dead dove do not eat
The first time he’d realized it, he was knee-deep in already, no way out.
About two years into his training, Leon was still called ‘rookie’, although he could slam nearly all of the guys that resided in the barracks, and he could almost successfully disarm Krauser. It was irritating, frustrating, infantilizing. He went through horrors beyond the human comprehension, through what would most certainly be called torture if it weren’t disguised as training, and he was damn good at getting through it all.
Fuck. He nearly even got the major’s approval!
The one day. Singular— single, fucking, day that he’s not fully in touch with his mind, he gets nicked by Krauser’s knife in training.
Krauser’s knives are a reflection of the man. Unforgiving. Perfectly sharpened. Cold and as precise as a surgeon’s scalpel, they cut deep.
It’s not so bad. Sure, it got to the hypodermis, but it’s not life-threatening , not in Leon’s eyes anyway.
Still, it’s protocol to take care of wounds efficiently. A wounded soldier is at risk of infection, and what good is a malfunctioning weapon?
“Sit still, rookie.”
Jack’s- The major’s voice sounds cool, a hiss that snaps Leon out of his clouded thoughts once more, a dark blush creeping into his cheeks. His eyes flick over to the wounded area, then to Krauser’s hands, Krauser’s bare hands.
It feels almost erotic. The two of them are alone, surely not forgotten, but alone. The infirmary is empty, and the only sound is the buzzing of the fluorescent lights above them and the shuffling of fabric, the clinking of the sanitary alcohol bottle against the metal table, crinkling of plastic. Leon’s shirtless, his skin sweaty and wet with sweat, some of it still dripping down his torso. Krauser’s bare hands are a rarity to see. The man never takes off his fingerless gloves, so Leon almost feels a little sense of happiness at the fact that he gets to see the major’s rough palms, the accentuated veins across his skin, the barely distinguishable, nearly invisible bright blonde hairs on the back of his hand and the proximal of his finger. Intimate.
He’s a little enamored with the man’s swift movements.
“You’re a fucking mess today, rookie,” the major says, venom dripping from his tone like a viper’s fangs. “Ought to teach you a little focus.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Like hell you are,” Krauser murmurs. He looks up, eyes meeting Leon’s.
A shiver runs down Leon’s spine. The man is unsure if it’s arousal or terror, but either way, it makes the hair on his arms stand up straight.
He feels the indescribable need to stand up straight, a soldier at attentions under his superior’s scalding gaze, ready to scream out every little flaw in the m—boy.
“Don’t move.”
“Sorry, sir.”
Krauser’s fingers drift over the wound, and his eyes return to it, much to Leon’s relief.
Not for long, however, as the breath is taken out of the soldier, a choked gasp escaping his throat, sounding a little like one of the zombies back in Racoon. A wounded noise, like an animal, like a whipped dog.
He glances down, to see his major’s fingers red with his blood, two of them stuck in the gaping wound, little droplets running down his palm, his wrist.
“Sir—” Leon nearly whimpers.
A sense of alarm washes over Leon, cold water, entering every little crevice, every little muscle tensing up as Krauser removes a finger, humming, as if he was observing some experiment. A series of muffled pants and gasps follow, as Krauser’s fingers continue to caress Leon’s wound with an uncharacteristic gentleness, making the poor boy’s head spin in a terrifying manner. It hurts, hurts, hurts so bad, and suddenly he’s back in Raccoon, and he’s weakly mixing herbs together to heal himself before the damage is too far, hands shaky, saliva slowly trickling from the corner of his mouth as he’s too fucking exhausted to close his jaw and swallow, the cold, unforgiving hands of death ready to gently trace over his eyes, forever closing them, forever trapping Leon in the hellhole that is the RPD building.
He doesn’t even realize he isn’t breathing right, eyes glazing over as Krauser, the cruel bastard, takes some sort of sick satisfaction in seeing Leon’s lost little gaze, unsure where he is, flashbacks coming back like it’s a damn rave and the beat just dropped.
He can’t breathe he can’t breathe and the wound hurts it hurts where is he he’s in raccoon he’s in raccoon he’s going to die he’s going to become one of them and no one will ever remember him and he’s going to be another faceless victim and he’ll never become a cop and he’s going to fucking die—
He’s trembling. Why is he trembling? Training, training, training. People shake when they lose too much blood. He’s lost blood. He’s lost blood? He doesn’t— what? Where is he losing blood? Where? Where is his body?
He feels his tremors but he can’t feel his hands or his feet but he has to get moving or they’ll eat him, or they’ll turn him, and the bile is back in his throat, and he’s being restrained, oh god. OH GOD.
He kicks, but he can’t focus, but the lights aren’t right and they’re too bright, too cool, they’re—
A slap. A gasp. A- A J…Jack Krauser.
He’s panting like a dog as he stares at his superior, eye to eye, icy blue meeting icier blue, a big, wet hand on his sticky face.
“Back with me, soldier?” the rough, scratchy voice sounds, pins prickling Leon’s skin. He’s not there. He’s not in Raccoon, he’s not in Raccoon, he’s not in Raccoon, he’s not in…
“Soldier,” Krauser repeats. “Back with me.”
Leon swallows. Hard. His lips part, and they’re dry and chapped, dead skin flaking on them. He doesn’t realize that until his major’s eyes flick down to them, then back to Leon’s eyes.
“S…Sorry, sir.” his weak voice sounds, as he goes nearly limp.
His major nods, letting go of his face, of his wrists. And oh, how absolutely terrifying it is to realize how easily he just restrained Leon, both wrists with one hand, face in the other. Massive hands, the major has. Cold, rough, experienced. And how terrifying it is that Leon relaxed dangerously fast when he recognized the man. Stronger, a wolf wearing a shepherd’s coat. And oh, Leon’s a little tainted lamb, barely good enough for slaughter anymore, comforted after tumbling down the hill, pushed by the same hand that pet him.
Nothing is ever quite as sobering as the realization of how vulnerable you let yourself be in front of a python, his presence contracting around yourself, suffocating, stealing the life out of your lungs, ready to eat you whole.
It takes another 40 seconds for Leon to realize it’s his own blood smeared on his cheek, on his wrists. His own blood staining Krauser’s hands.
It’s sickening. It shouldn’t comfort him, the way the other man is so easy-going with Leon’s shattered body, damaged carcass. He resumes patching up Leon’s wound, not paying mind to the dirtied infirmary sheets beneath them, or Leon’s torso smudged with the liquid.
It reeks of iron.
The older man resumes the action of patching up Leon’s wound, and if there wasn’t blood all around them, Leon would call himself insane and tell himself he hallucinated his superior fingering the cut on his abdomen, like a tender lover. He would think himself filthy, freakish. He would convince himself that his attachment to major Krauser went too far, and he would force himself to try and get a little distance, only to be immediately drawn back in, like a vice.
The alcohol stings, and it’s a welcome feeling, connecting Leon’s soul and mind back with his body. The stitches hurt worse, turning his troubled mind back into a haze, as Krauser carefully inserts the needle in his skin, the thin thread closing the skin back up. He’s left with a dull ache as Jack disinfects it and the area around it once more, for good measure, and applies gauze to it, making sure it sticks with a bandage.
“Get some rest, Kennedy,” the rough voice commands.
“Yes, sir,” he murmurs, his mouth dry, his throat scratchy, his hair sticking to his skin.
He’s left sitting there for a long while, staring at the door. A dog waiting for his owner? A child no longer crying after left alone?
He stays still, until his eyes get as heavy as the weight of his sins, and the gentle caress of sleep finally shuts them closed, beckoning Leon to lay down.
As he sleeps, he lies still.
Still waiting. Still longing.
He thinks he knows. He’s not stupid. But he’s naive.
He’s still in trouble. Of course he is.
But still, it’s like a siren’s calll. He drowns in the little waves of pain that shoot from the very wound Major Krauser’s touched. It feels tantalisingly relaxing, alarming almost.
Leon Kennedy knows he’s doomed.
It’s another thing to realize it, though.
a/n: halloo this is my first post :3 pls keep in touch bcs i will post more ( x reader, etc.) havea nice day!!
"b-b-b-b-but you cant ship them!!! their dynamic is problematic!!!" waaaa waaaaaaaa im smashing them together like barbie dolls and no one can stop me ooo im making them kiss they're getting married now they're having sex ooooooo
this song was literally them ????
i have made like a billion more videos like this god help me
when the power’s not powering 😔💔
jokes aside tho i can see why he became obsessed w power after losing his arm. i mean bro was indeed a whole machine during like 15 minutes of screen time there. impressive.
POWER !
another song that’s literally them but pls don’t shit on me if you don’t think the song fits as it does get confusing and complicated if i really think hard about it and it is what it is
(i ain’t reading allat incoming:)
i’ll leave the interpretation to whoever’s watching this. to make it short basically i just used the remake scene for an og storyline edit. the point that i wanted to get across in this one was how (in the original setting) Krauser definitely was sour about Leon especially after losing his arm. like the whole governments special boy thing, not letting Manuela die and all that, while he lost his arm and is getting discharged afterwards kinda losing his purpose (talking about purpose i have another one for that specifically i think so stay tuned if anyone wants to know but even no one would care imma still post it cuz i love my kreon study TT). they were comrades which are supposed to be kind of equal in most aspects, not major and one of his men, so i definitely see why Krauser is not able to let this one go. a lot of his motivations came from envy and his ego. i know i wouldn’t say he wanted to “be” Leon but i just did it for the sake of the lyrics :p i also mixed in the scenes from the remake not because they align with the plot i was going for but because i mean have you seen that death?? anyways if you get it you get it i’m so bad at expressing what i mean without a clear head, it’s 3 am and i have an econ test tomorrow 💀 so if you see the vision as i do, thank you. but if you don’t that’s totally fine pls don’t hate on me i’m just some girl tryna have fun w a video game xx
Tch, you're pretty good. But once I've memorized your attack pattern, we're making out sloppy style
🖤 METALTANGO WEEK (JULY 14-20) PROMPTS 🖤
Welcome back MetalTango shippers! We hope you can join us again in celebrating Krauser and Leon 🖤🤍
Text version under the cut!
DAY 1: BOOT CAMP || FIRST ENCOUNTER || CANNIBALISM || PUBLIC SEX DAY 2: WEAPONS || REUNION || CAPTURED || TOYS DAY 3: REPRIMAND || ARGUMENT || AGE GAP || GANG BANG DAY 4: PUPPET || LOYALTY || REVENGE || THREESOME DAY 5: BETRAYAL || LETTERS || GORE || MASTURBATION DAY 6: DOWNWARD SPIRAL || TOXICITY || TATTOO/BRANDING || ORAL DAY 7: UNHEALED WOUNDS || ALOOFNESS || POISON || LINGERIE/WOMEN’S CLOTHING
