smuts gonna be next chapter…😈👅
re9!leon w annoying rookie agent
LEON KENNEDY x fem!reader (part 3)
— sfw content
summary; leon blows up on you after the mission, causing a tense atmosphere between the two of you.
warnings; a little bit of angst, comfort, grumpy old man leon, jealousy issues, description of blood and pain, no beta read we die like luis, sexual tension lowkey
part 2
The air feels heavy as you pant, bile collecting in the back of your throat. Your shoulder is throbbing, your head is dizzy from the fall you took, and your legs are barely keeping you up. Leon has his arm around your waist, helping you walk beside him as the two of you stalk down the long hallway. The pain in your stomach is unexplainable.
Blood, gore, and horror cover the walls. You can hear Leon’s heavy breaths, feel his eyes glancing at your shoulder every few seconds. The tension had amplified. You had messed up and put both of you at risk.
“Keep your hand on your stomach, don’t pull the wood out, you’ll worsen the bleeding.” He whispers, tightening his hold on your side. “Stabilize the wood, okay?”
You nod weakly, your throat drying up. The pain was paralyzing you. It hurt so much, having a dislocated shoulder and a stab wound.
“It hurts.” You whine, leaning against him more, resting your forehead against his bicep. He inhales deeply and provides a structure for you, arms wrapping around you.
“You got stabbed. And dislocated your shoulder. You’ve somehow done worse than me.” His hand reaches down to adjust your hold on your wound. You let out a pained moan, legs threatening to buckle.
Your fingers shift, brushing against your open wound, making you yelp loudly. He stiffens and glares down at you, his anger increasing. “Don’t touch it! It’s an open wound—“
“M-My fingers slipped!” You shriek back.
Just then, an incoherent growl is heard down the hallway. Something inhumane, the heavy footsteps shaking the walls. Both of your faces pale, and Leon is quick to move.
“We can’t fight like this. We need to hide. Now.” He grabs you firmer, practically carrying you as he rushes down the bloody hallway. He rounds the corner, spotting a door. He pokes his head in, gun raised, before pushing you in. He follows in suite, shutting the door slowly.
The door shuts with a soft click, leaving you both in darkness. The room is small, and you can feel the shelves around you trapping you in. You barely have room to move or breath.
You gasp gently as your back suddenly hits a wall, a firm body pressing you in. A pained noise leaves you; he’s quick to react, sliding a hand over your mouth.
“Shh.”
You look up at him through your lashes, trembling in pain and a new found emotion. He’s so close, his scent filling your nose. You could feel every crevice of his hand against your skin, fingers twitching at your soft cheeks.
His eyes carefully drag down to your wound, where you’re clutching at the piece of wood. His eyes harden at the notion, hand moving from your mouth just slightly for you to talk.
“You’re holding it wrong. You’re gonna kill yourself.”
“How do I—?”
Gently, his free hand moves to press your shirt around the edge of the wound, not letting blood slip out. “Around it.” He mutters slowly, his lips moving right next to your ear. You inhale deeply, eyes fluttering at the pain.
The sound of the monster grows closer, footsteps stopping right in front of the door. Your heart drops to your stomach as you watch the shadow of it appear underneath the door, disorientated grunts leaving it. It lingers for a minute before slowly disappearing down the hallway, the echoes of the footsteps quieting down. Eventually, it’s just you and Leon.
“It’s gone.” You say, voice muffled. He hums in response, slowly moving away. He gives you one last glance before turning the knob of the door, cautiously poking his head on.
The two of you slip into the hallway unnoticed, slipping past the B.O.W. You make it outside, where Leon immediately clicks at his comms frantically.
“Sherry? Sherry? We have a problem. Hamsters been stabbed, shoulder dislocated.”
You blink, turning to face him. Through the intense pain, you managed to hear that small part. Hamster? Your code name was hamster?
He grunts as Sherrys voice fills his ear, alerting him of the choppers location. He nods along to her voice before muttering a small, “Condor one out,” before turning back to you.
“Ten minutes. Can you stay with me for ten minutes?” He steps closer, wrapping his arms around you again. He walks you over to a large boulder, gently sitting you down. He kneels down, lifting your shirt and examining the wood still shoved deep.
His warm hands rip a piece of cloth off his shirt, pressing it against the side of your wound. He shushes your whine, “I have to do this. Gotta keep it stabilized. You’ll be okay.”
“Am I gonna die?” You croak.
“Maybe, if we keep this in you for too long.”
“So take it out!” You frown, glancing worriedly down at the cloth pressed against you, which was quickly turning scarlet.
“You stup—“ He huffs sharply, “We take it out now, you’ll die of blood loss. We don’t have the right equipment. Jesus Christ, what am I gonna do with you?”
Another childish whine leaves you before you suddenly hiss in pain, shriveling up further. He shifts closer, holding you against him tighter. You wished the situation was slightly different, that you weren’t in critical condition but still in his arms.
His closeness, his breath, scent, fabric of his clothing, it’s all overwhelming. He’s so close, large muscles grounding you in so all you can feel is him. Distracting you from the stabbing pain.
After a few more minutes, the sound of a loud rotor starts to ring out throughout the terrain, cutting through the stiff silence. It appears in the sky, slowly lowering down until it’s landed, dust and debris spinning around. Several agents jump out from the side doors, moving with precision and urgency.
A man in a crisp white coat—a doctor—rushes to your side, pushing past everyone else. His hands, steady like trained, help you onto the chopper carefully.
Leon heavy gaze lingers, unyielding, feeling his anger resurface. He climbs in beside you, keeping close to you. His shoulder nudges yours. His warmth soaks into you.
“Agent Kennedy, there’s room in the front—“ An agent speaks up, voice professional.
“No, I’m fine here.” He cuts him off.
Silence follows. They start the engine, slowly lifting back into the air. The doctor checks all your vitals as Leon taps his foot against the floor, his movements anxious and impatient. Every passing second, his anger and worry swirls beneath the surface of his hardened expression, growing.
Leon’s heavy boots make loud thuds as he paces the small room, the while looming walls and the sickening stench of the hospital making his gut churn. He hated being here after missions, it was a reminder that someone he was in charge of got hurt.
His hands flex into fists as he finally turns towards you, scanning your appearance. You were cleaned up, bandaged up and drugged up with pain killers. A thin tee shirt, white bandages wrapped around your abdomen, your arm in a sling with a small bandaid on your cheek.
The sight of you only makes his anger grow.
Silence hangs over the two of you for another long minute, before he finally speaks up, his voice sharp and stabbing you.
“You’re not ready for this.” He says, “I don’t care what you have to say. You’re not ready for this.” He steps closer, gaze hardened down at you.
Your brows furrow in surprise, faltering. For once, you don’t have any whitty remarks or shitty jokes. You’re caught off guard.
“What? I went— I went through training, for like, years!”
“Years,” He scoffs, “and you fell for a fucking trapdoor.” He steps closer with a scowl, “You strayed ahead of me, after I clearly told you to stay behind me. Now, because of your recklessness, you have a stab wound and several other injuries!” He groans loudly, turning back to rub his temple tiredly.
He doesn’t want to yell at you, but your stupidity was driving him insane. Trapdoors was Lesson 101, it felt like. And listening to your god damn boss.
“Oh, come on, it was hidden.” You complain, straightening your posture on the hospital bed. “What, you want me to develop X-Ray vision? Fly?”
He turns to you slowly, eyes darkening.
“Are you seriously joking around in a time like this?” He grits out.
“I didn’t say that,” you snap back, frustration bubbling up despite the pain. “I made a mistake. Big deal. You did too.”
“What?”
“Your first mission. You got shot in the leg.” You remind him. His teeth grit at the reminder. What was your damn obsession with his case files?
He stares at you for a long minute, something dangerous flickering behind his blue irises.
“That’s different.”
You furrow your brows.
“How?”
“Because I wasn’t incompetent.” He snaps. His words hit deep, and you sit there in shock. He faces you fully, words unrelenting. “You’re a damn liability.”
“You can’t just say that.” Your voice cracks as you attempt to sound strong. “I worked hard to be here. I trained my ass off. I’m ready, I promise.”
“I believe you will be one day,” He sighs, voice draining from anger to tiredness as he finally turns away, picking up his coat. “But not now. You’re off the team until I say otherwise.”
“What?” You watch helplessly as he moves.
Leon is already halfway out the door, stopping just to remind you that he’ll be driving you home tomorrow. The hospital was keeping you overnight to make sure everything was safe and healthy in your systems before letting you go.
The door clicks shut behind him, leaving you alone in your thoughts and heavy guilt. Tears fill your eyes, and you curl up on the stiff hospital mattress, bottom lip trembling. You fight off the sobs, but they win in the end.
The hospital feels strange during the daytime. The sun is coming in through the windows, pale and sickly as it washes over the polished floors. The antiseptic scent fills your nose. It’s almost eery, knowing that so many lives were lost within these walls. It's quiet in a way that feels wrong.
You sat in the lobby, waiting patiently for your ride home. Leon. He had told you he’d pick you up, so now you sat, discharge papers on your lap, arm in a sling, all bandaged up and waiting.
He was late.
Your eyes glance at the clock, the small chime annoying you. Your shoulder aches, your stomach feels uneasy from the hospital food, your stomach numb from the harsh drugs they put you on.
Footsteps near your left ear, and you turn quickly, expecting Leon’s presence. But you should have known it wasn’t going to be him; they weren’t heavy. They were light and casual.
Next to you is a young man in a nurse’s uniform, offering a small smile.
“Rough mission?” He looks you over. His voice pulls you out of your thoughts, driving your attention to his brown eyes. His expression was open, sympathetic, looking down at you like you weren’t an annoyance. Like you actually meant something.
And he was cute.
Your fingers trace the edges of your bandages as you respond, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. You had been too tense, over-thinking every little moment of your life for the past twenty-four hours. Talking with a cute boy wouldn’t hurt anyone.
“You should see the other guy,” You joke, scooting to make room for him. He hums and plops down next to you, cracking open a bag of chips. Your eyes scan his attire, speaking again after a few seconds. “You’re a nurse?”
“Mhm. In charge of the West Wing. I, uh, was the one who left your breakfast tray this morning in your room.” His cheeks flush warmly, and it’s refreshing. No gruff huffs, no tense awkward silence, no frustration or stress. But, even in the lack of his presence, you still thought about him, your thoughts wandering to the older man. Even in this quiet comfort, he controlled you. You couldn’t help but wonder where he was. Why was he late?
The conversation flows smoothly between the two of you. You learn his name is Ethan. He's worked here for about six months. It's unguarded and easy, and for the first time today, the knot in your chest slowly loosens. You can breathe, you’re not trying your best to please him, to make him proud.
It feels normal.
Almost.
Until the air in the room shifts, the young nurse’s gaze trails behind you. The sound of heavy footsteps enters, and your heart shouldn’t skip so many beats, but you can't help it. You're quick to turn around, making eye contact with his blue eyes, staring down at you and the nurse.
And like that, the ease of the conversation disappears, leaving a stiff silence.
“Am I interrupting something?” His voice rings out. It's smooth, calm, deep. Deeper than Ethan. He’s bigger in every aspect, face scrunched with wrinkles from decades of hard work and trauma. It's not your best moment, admiring Leon in front of the boy who was just flirting with you, comparing the two of them in your head. But you can't help it.
In the end, Leon held a chokehold on your heart.
“No, I’m coming.” You force out, stumbling onto your feet, papers held loosely within your fingers. You look up at him, taking in the look in his eyes. He seemed calm, collected on the surface, but you knew the look in his eyes. Anger, frustration. Brow furrowed with the usual stress he held around you.
“C’mon.” He mutters lowly, already turning away. The moment his back is turned to you, a sharp pain shoots up your side, causing your legs to buckle and send you toppling over. You’re expecting to hit the land face-first, but a part of you hopes one of them will catch you. Two fit men by your side, it's not too much to ask for.
Leon is quick, catching you in his arms before Ethan can even think about it. His reflexes are tenfold of the nurse; more trained and precise.
“You alright?” He chokes out, hands firm around your waist, helping you maintain balance. He’s gotten awfully touchy the past few weeks, brushing against your shoulder or patting your head when you do a good deed. A weak nod escapes you, and Leon only slightly relaxes. His gaze shifts to Ethan expectantly.
Ethan works quickly, crouching to lift your shirt and check your bandages. It's almost embarrassing, two attractive men so close, caring and attentive to your needs. You hope your cheeks aren't too red.
“Did you feel your stitches pull?” He asks worriedly, looking up at you. He had pretty lashes.. And during this, Leon's hand flexes around you, as if he could hear what you were thinking. Your thoughts were really not the most pure right now. Two men, one hotel room—
“No, ah, just a cramp.” You mutter weakly. Ethan nods along, pressing down gently, before pulling away and fixing your shirt.
“Okay, that's good. It was probably just a normal muscle cramp. You must have gotten up too fast.” He grins warmly, “So eager to leave?”
Your lashes flutter slowly, nearly in awe.
“No, I—”
“Yes.” Leon finally speaks up from behind you, pulling you back like a child. You squeak lowly as you get yanked, smushed against his side. “She good to leave?” He raises a brow at the younger man, his mere build intimidating Ethan. Leon was more than twice his size.
“Y-Yeah.” He blinks widely. He watches as Leon drags you away, almost sulking.
The car ride is quiet, stiff, your nerves heightened. Humiliation burns at your lungs. A part of you is flustered, a part of you is pissed because he just yelled at you the day before, now he’s acting like you cant interact with other human beings. Having the audacity to keep you away from other men like you were some kid.
Neither of you want to be the first one to speak up, and it’s painfully obvious. The silence stretches awkwardly between you. The engine hums loudly beneath the car. Wind shakes the trees as you pass them. Leon’s quiet breathing fills the rest of the space.
Your eyes glance at the radio, and you hesitantly move forward to switch it on. The sound of hip hop fills the quiet car. Leon twitches in his seat, his eyes drifting from the road to the radio. After a minute, he reaches to change it to another channel.
A slow voice explaining the events of World War 1 fills the car now. Its boring. His voice drives you into a sluggish state. After another minute, you switch it back to hip hop. Leon looks at you from the corner of his gaze, frowning from displeasure.
He reaches to turn the radio off, his movement passive aggressive. Your lip twitches and you look out the window. None of you speak.
The car slows down in front of a red light, and you finally muster up the courage to speak.
“You’re an asshole.”
This definitely catches his attention, his gaze snapping towards yours. He doesn’t argue, he knows he is.
“..Im sorry, about what I said yesterday.” He mumbles, reluctantly facing you with a sigh. “That was rude and unprofessional of me.” Another few seconds of silence pass, and he continues. “You’re not a liability. You’re a little.. slow.. but you’re not incompetent.”
He frowns, watching your expression, trying to read your thoughts. It was hard to read you sometimes, because more than half of the time you spoke before you thought.
And right now, he had no idea what you were gonna say.
“..You hurt my feelings.”
He feels a part of his heart ache at your small words. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to hug you or shake you. You were the epitome of an adorable annoyance; unpredicting, adorable, chaotic.
“I know.” He sighs.
“It didn’t say in your case studies you were a dick.” You grumble lowly, sulking in his passenger seat. His hand twitches on his thigh, wanting to reach over and pat you. So he does.
His hand is warm as he ruffles your hair gently, thick fingers massaging your scalp. Your reaction is fast and immediate, relaxing into the seat like a disgruntled feline.
“Files.” He corrects.
You let out a soft giggle, and he can’t help but smile. A huge weight has been lifted off both of you, and you finally feel like you can breathe clearly.
A sign comes up in the distance, and a grin tugs at your lips.
“Road work ahead?” You start slowly, already holding in your laughter, “I sure hope it does.”
Silence falls again, and you look over at Leon, waiting, who looks more confused than anything.
“I don’t get it.”
Your smile drops, sitting up in your seat. “Because, road work,” You gesture stupidly at the windshield, “the road works, like it’s supposed to.” You blink up at him.
He hesitates before forcing a laugh. “Hah, that’s funny.” He scratches at his scalp. It’s very clear he didn’t think it was funny. Lucky for him, the Porsche turns into your complex just in time. The car rolls through the lot slowly before he parks in front of your apartment, setting the gear into parking.
“You need anything before you go?” He asks you. The question is casual, but it still makes your heart rate quicken.
‘You.’ You want to say, but you know better. Instead, you unbuckle your seatbelt and hum thoughtfully.
“Do you have anything.. planned? For the rest of the night?” The words leave you after a moment, your voice quieter then usual, a little shy.
He raises a single brow, his heart skipping a beat. Were you doing what he thought?
“No.” He says after a beat, staring at you. The air shifts and your lips twitch.
“You should come over, let me cook dinner. I’m a killer cook.” Your eyes read his, and you can tell he needs more convincing.
“You could apologize properly.” Your lashes bat slowly, looking up at the older man, who looked like he was fighting the devil on his shoulder in his head.
He shouldn’t give in. There’s no reason for him to be inside your house. You’re half his age, size, you’re his trainee, his rookie.
But the words leave him before he can help himself.
“Yeah, okay. You got any drinks up there?”
MWGAHAHHAH we all know what’s happening next chapter…
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