Requesting Adam Glenn/reader. Contains spoilers for the movie!!
Do you remember the part in the movie where Skeletor stabs Adam with what's left of the Sword of Power and he messes with Adam's mind a bit, looking in on moments of his life on Earth and playing up his insecurities? Well, I wonder what would one of those scenes may have been like if Adam had not been single and instead had had a steady, loving girlfriend on Earth.
Skeletor probably couldn't humiliate him and play on his insecurities here in the same way he did in the other scenes, so how might that have differed? What would Skeletor have to do to manipulate or corrupt a memory that is good and positive? And would reminding Adam about the woman he left on Earth without getting the chance of saying goodbye to be a mistake if the goal is, at least in part, making him want to just accept his death and die?
Shattered Memories
A/N: It was interesting getting to rewrite a scene to both keep the original themes and to introduce new ones! This is a bit short and sweet and thats mostly because I rushed the parts that I wanted to stay the same from the movie... like we know what Skeletor says in the office and what the sorceress says in the death scene, I wanted to write what I thought would change :)
Adam was thrown back by the force of the sword breaking, his body crashing against the floor in an explosion of pain. He couldn’t breathe.
The sword of power had just shattered like glass. It was supposed to be the vessel of Grayskull’s power; it wasn’t meant to do that. And if the sword of Grayskull wasn’t enough to defeat Skeletor, Adam thought as he landed, what was?
He saw it as he tried to move. The hilt of the sword lay with a jagged edge near Skeletor’s feet, and with dread Adam watched as the villain stooped to pick it up. With the staff in one hand and the so-called ‘sword of power’ in the other, Skeletor began to stride towards Adam, who desperately tried to claw away, his entire body aching with the effort.
He couldn’t become He-Man without the sword. And if he couldn’t be He-Man than he knew that he would surely die.
Skeletor mocked him as he approached, setting his staff down to free a hand, “Well would you look at that,” His glowing red eyes traced the jagged edge of the sword, “It seems your sword is worthless. Nothing more than a cheap toy to play with…” His eyes moved from the sword to Adam as he finally reached him, stooping over him “How curious without it… what are you?”
Adam felt bile and fear rise in his throat at the taunts. He hadn’t said goodbye to you before he left. He had assumed that he’d be back to see you again.
“Whom are you?” Skeletor continued to taunt, “Let’s have a look.” With that, Skeletor’s taloned hand landed on Adam’s head, ripping at his hair, and burning like hellfire against his scalp. Adam writhed as he tried to pull away, but he was sure if he pulled any harder that his scalp would come right off. All he could focus on was the white hot blinding pain that seemed to engulf his entire being, there was not a thought in his head until-
The pain recedes. Not entirely, just enough. Adam opens his eyes to find himself on the sidewalk in front of a bagel shop.
He knows this bagel shop.
A girl runs out with a small brown paper bag clutched in her hand. Its you. Of course its you. And for a moment Adam forgets the danger, the pain, the broken sword, because he is seeing the day he met you through his eyes again and you look just as beautiful as he remembers. The sunrise of the early morning hits you just right and he swears that if this is what death feels like then he’d rather be dead.
You end up in front of him, slightly flustered and slightly winded, and all Adam can do is grin at you.
You held the bag out to him like a lifeline, “I saw you take it off your order because of the price,” you took a couple of breaths, trying to steady your heart, “but I think they’re really good so I wanted you to have one.” You looked at him with such sincerity that Adam was ready to drop everything, quit his job, forget the sword, just so he’d have enough time to enjoy this bagel with you.
But he still feels the twinge of pain in his scalp, and all of a sudden the memory is interrupted by a taloned hand snatching the bag right out of your hands. Adam’s heart is filled with despair as he remembers exactly where he is and exactly what is happening, and as he sees the illusion of you smile over at the shadow next to you.
“Dear boy… tut tut,” Skeletor drawled, tracing a claw over the curve of your face, you standing unbothered, “losing sight of your goal for such a pretty creature. If you hadn’t lost focus to pursue her, perhaps you would have arrived in time to save your poor daddy or your poor planet.”
Adam tried to turn and run, to get away, from the vision of Skeletor stroking your cheek, but before he could take a step, he was slammed back into the floor of Castle Grayskull, scalp once again burning with the heat of a thousand wicked suns.
“It… wasn’t like that.” He grunted through the pain. And he meant it. He hadn’t lost track of his goal. He just found someone to share it with, someone who encouraged him… someone who believed him. You surely had spurred him on with your kind words… right? He was here because of your help…. Right?
Skeletor gripped ever so slightly harder, “No?” He slammed Adam’s head back into the step.
Again, the pain receded, and Adam forgot where he was for a second, only a second before he recognized… a date with you. Maybe not the first date but he couldn’t tell because it was a spot you always came back to. It was a fancy-looking restaurant that was near his apartment, and you had gone on multiple dates there all the way up to a couple of nights before he had returned to Eternia. His eyes scanned the place, even recognizing the waitress who was taking an order nearby.
“…Adam?”
And there you were, sitting across the table wearing a dress that he had helped you pick out. You were watching him fondly, no malice in your eyes.
Adam took one last glance around the room before responding, “Yeah- yeah sorry, what were you saying?”
“I was just asking if you’ve had any luck finding the sword yet. You made it sound like you had a lead the other day?” You giggled at him; arms folded in front of you as you awaited his response. Adam thought that he’d never heard you giggle. Not like that at least.
Adam blinked and you were gone, and in your place was Skeletor, who didn’t hesitate to rise to his feet and snake one grimy hand back into Adam’s hair, dragging him from his seat and through the restaurant.
“You left her,” he snarled, “you’ve betrayed her for your planet and you’ve betrayed your planet for her… and now you’re left with nothing.”
Skeletor took a moment to glare into Adam’s eyes, “You’ve never deserved either of them.” And he slammed Adam’s head back into the floor.
And the pain receded, and Adam was staring at a sterile white ceiling. His boss was above him, her grin spread from ear to ear. This time Adam knew that something was wrong. He didn’t have time to brace or react before Skeletor strutted into the room, continuing on with his beratements.
“…What even is this place.”
Adam let out an exasperated breath, “Human resources.”
And suddenly the pain wasn’t in his scalp, it was in his neck. Skeletor had gripped Adam’s neck with the superhuman strength of a space villain and had him suspended off the floor. Adam could only pray to whatever god was left to let him just die.
Skeletor spat insult after insult at him. But Adam felt his veins turn to ice when Skeletor drawled, “Eternia isn’t your home… it’s a dream of something you’re not.”
And Adam was slammed back into reality, awoken with a burning hand still in his hair, and his sword still gripped in Skeletor’s hands, and wish to have said goodbye to you still flickering in his panicked mind. His mind raced. He didn’t deserve to say goodbye to you. He didn’t deserve the trust of his people. He had tried to serve two purposes, two worlds, and he had failed both in the most damaging way he could have managed. He had left you without a word. He had given his people hope that he could not follow through on.
Skeletor snarled, breaking Adam’s racing thoughts, “And that dream...” Skeletor stabbed the sword straight into Adam’s chest, “is over”
Whatever he had thought of the boiling scalp, Adam had no words to describe the pain of getting stabbed with a broken sword. Pure agony ripped through his entire body and his mind felt as though it had been wiped of every thought but the pain. He barely even processed being tossed in the air, nor landing heavily against the stone of the sword’s altar. His whole body felt heavy and Adam couldn’t think of anything but the need to close his eyes and sleep.
The pain receded. Adam opened his eyes and found himself on his bedroom floor, feeling completely numb both physically and emotionally. His drawings lay scattered around him and the sun filtered through the window with the same golden glow that it had held when he had first met you. Adam had no will get up. He thought that he’d lie there forever, waiting for you to get home from work and come through the front door to greet him. He’d wait forever, Adam thought, even if it was always in this spot, you at work, him missing you, because that at least meant that he was missing someone who was meant to come back to him.
You open the door. Adam doesn’t even have the energy to sit up, but he sees that you’re wearing casual clothes. It must not be a workday for you.
“Everything all right Adam? I heard a noise in here.” You said it so casually, as if he had never abandoned you. As if you just wanted to make sure that he was okay.
From the floor Adam mutters not unkindly, “I think that I’m dying.” He still can’t process the fact; without the pain it just feels like existing.
He sees your eyebrows furrow slightly, “That sounds like it must hurt.” You say gently after a moment
“It does.” Adam feels a lump in his throat at your mere presence. You’re just a dream. You don’t know that he’s dying. You don’t know where he is.
You take a small step towards him, “Is there anything that I can do to help?”
Adam shakes his head on the floor, “I don’t think so.” He says your name as if it’s the last time he’ll get the chance, “I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for Adam. Sometimes things just happen.” You said as you noticed something on the floor, you stooped to pick it up, “Here. It looks like you dropped this one. It would be a shame to step on it.”
And with that you turned and left Adam alone. He holds up to see which drawing you had seen, and Adam sees a bird. Lowering the drawing, there is actually a real bird.
“Leave me alone” Adam groaned from the floor, covering his eyes as if not seeing the bird would make it go away.
The bird did not go away.
“Get up.”
Adam felt tired all the way to the bone, “There’s nothing left for me to do. Eternia has been destroyed. I left her behind on Earth. I have nothing.” Death would be a mercy to him, Adam thought.
“You have the power.”
“No. Not anymore. The swords broken.”
The bird talked to him slowly, asking him to repeat the words he says when he holds the sword up.
“I have the power” Adam says, trying to figure out why it mattered.
“That’s right. You have the power. Not the sword, you. I chose you. In the hands of the past champions, the power has been brute strength, but in yours it becomes so much more. It is understanding. It is empathy. It is humanity. She saw it in you. I saw it too. That is why I chose you as the vessel Adam.”
“I am the vessel.”
“Now you’re ready.”
A glowing light began to emit from Adam’s chest, and he knew that he was going back. And he knew that he was going to fight- for Eternia, for the universe, and most importantly for you. He had to get back to you, and he’d be damned if anyone, skull face or not, was going to stop him.
And he was going to keep fighting, as long as he needed to, to keep the universe that cradled you in it safe.
The reason Leon Kennedy works so well is because he is equal parts gentleman and deeply unwell, which means every sweet gesture comes with the undertone of a man trying very hard to hold himself together.
Like, because he's polite: he opens doors for you, walks on the outside of the sidewalk, remembers how you like your coffee
But because he's unwell: he checks every exit constantly, he needs to hear your voice after nightmares, little things become huge things with him
And that's the thing. The romance isn't that he would die for you. Lots of characters would die for you. The romance is that he's trying, every day, to live for you. And some days that is clearly the harder thing.
For example: you mention offhand that your car has been making a weird noise. Three days later he hands you the keys back and says, "Should be good now." You find out he spent his only free afternoon under the car teaching himself how to fix it from a repair manual because the thought of you breaking down alone on the side of the road made him physically ill. He never tells you that part. He just asks you to text him when you get home. Immediately. Every time. Forever.
A/N: love me an acts of service husband. Speaking of, today is my second wedding anniversary and I FORGOT hahahaha. I'm gonna be in trouble later. Guess he gets the oldest gift around *ties up hair in a scrunchie*
Leon rarely cries probably. But when he does, he doesn't want other people to see. Exhaustion and sleeplessness just pushes it for him sometimes. He's just being human.
Featuring Daniela Moretti, @loveiscosmicsin and @theycallmedarling's OC as Leon's wife. Set sometime between RE6 and Requiem. And yes, I gave him a wolf cut.
leon, who has a crush on you but refuses to admit that he has a crush on someone as a full grown man, who brings you breakfast each morning because you always have a sour look on your face when you get a stomachache from having nothing but a coffee.
leon who passes by your office to "ask you a question about this report," sees that your mug is running low, and makes you another coffee without asking, just the way you like it.
leon who waits for you at the end of the day, even if he's supposed to have gone home hours ago, just so he can walk you to your car. because the smile you give him when you say thank you is what gets him up and into the office each morning. and maybe he's hoping that one day he'll have enough courage to meet it with a kiss.
the s stands for service. leon [acts of] service kennedy
A- angst I F- fluff I S- smut I C- comfort I H/C -comfort
wedding ring I @topsytervy I F I your husband can't find his gloves for the latest mission he's been sent on and he refuses to leave without them
clingy I @/topsytervy I F I your boyfriend doesn't know the definition of personal space after missions, not that you mind.
bring him back I @/topsytervy I A I things aren't looking to good for your boyfriend on his mission so he decides to call you.
drabble I @simple-dorito I A
just can’t get enough pt2 I @tulipsbymybed I A + F + S I Leon's fresh out of the academy and into the Raccoon City police department-and he's still a virgin. Not only that, but he has almost no idea what what sex even is. Then he meets you, and his body starts wanting things. Or, the first 3 stages of Leon Kennedy learning about his body.
a moment of hesitation I @froggibus I H/C I leon has always kept you at arms length in order to protect you, but after leading the two of you into a trap, the cracks start to show and feelings come to light
in with the snowfall I @/froggibus I A + C I Leon's out of town and you can't sleep. You call him seeking comfort, but you're only met with dismissal. What now?
stay I @/froggibus I S I Leon shows you that his commitment issues don’t apply to you
the second choice I @/froggibus I A I after losing Ada, Leon can’t get her off of his mind—and can’t stop comparing you to her
when the dust settles I @/froggibus I C I after a gruelling mission, Leon takes care of you
the three times you share a bed I @/froggibus I C + F I two times you sleep in leon's bed, and the one time he sleeps in yours
drabble I @xoxomaeby I F
afterlife I @m6cabre I A + C
late nights I @/m6cabre I F
alone again I @flimsily-flimsy I A I You knew this would be the last mission for you both with the virus and no clear cure. What you didn’t expect was for yours to advance so fast, leaving Leon with a heartbreaking dilemma.
relax babe, i got you I @screaming-potato I A + F I Tracking your husband down was no simple task but reuniting with him and joining him on his mission made it all the better. They just didn’t expect you to be like him…just with enhanced abilities.
i keep crawling back home I @old6urgundy I A
better than ever I @f41ryb0nes I S I Leon comes home from Raccoon City feeling better than he has in ages, and he knows just how to show you.
pervert!leon I @/f41ryb0nes I ~S
wake up call I @ariiadnes I F
older boyfriend!leon pt2 I @dollyivy I F + S
biohazard I @dollyzdaydreamz I F I a video game company reaches out to the dso, asking to use agents mr. and mrs. kennedy as face models for their upcoming action horror game called biohazard. while your husband is reluctant, you, being a lover of video games, are more than ecstatic to accept the offer.
nudelates I @/dollyzdaydreamz I F I you and your friend are goofing around when you two decide to test out a tik tok trend: call your husband and tell him you accidentally signed up for nude pilates…with a male instructor who won’t give you a refund.
the work dilf I @/dollyzdaydreamz I F I after a long day of work at the dso, you were streaming when a subscriber admits they embarrassed themselves in front of a crush. to make them feel better, you tell them about the time you embarrassed yourself in front of an older agent, who you just so happened to have a fat crush on.
bringing home hope I @millimeraki I H/C + S I You’re waiting for the call that will make you a widow. And then the front door opens.
drabble I @saintlea I S I Leon, who immediately after being cured of the T-Virus, showed up to his ex-wife’s house.
frosted brushes I @plutotheplum I S I an ill-timed snowstorm leaves you snowed in with a less than enthusiastic federal agent.
blurred lines pt2 I @/plutotheplum I S I you’ve decided to get intimate for the first time with your boyfriend, and who better to ask for advice than his best friend?
socks and kisses I @/plutotheplum I S I a spontaneous shopping trip has leon re-evaluating his friendship with you.
take all my love I @/plutotheplum I S I to your chagrin, you get partnered with an irritating DSO agent who happens to take an interest in the case you're working on.
rookie!reader pt2 pt3 I @aliidarling I A + F I leon never treated a rookie differently than he would treat an equal. that is.. until you come along.
i still dream of violence I @escapic-mezzanine I A + C + ~S I When a young married couple disappears, who could be better at investigating the case than a pair of special agents used to working together and known for their high efficiency? Well, probably nobody, but someone clearly ignored the fact that one of them should retire a long time ago, and they are both too good at their job to rot in rural America. Not to forget the questionable nature of their professional relationship and mutual tension.
a little confused I @cosmicasteroid I F
radio silence I @alloftheimagines I A I leon needs to hear your voice one last time.
comfort I @jelly--doughnut I C
leon’s crybaby rookie pt2 pt3 I @leonarchive I F I there’s not a single day that goes by without leon questioning how.. exactly you got this job, but he has a sneaking suspicion that your looks certainly helped your application. respectfully, of course. he was assigned to be your mentor, was he happy about it? not really. did it help you were easy on the eyes? yes!
the kennedy dilemma I @/leonarchive I S I leon hasn’t been able to feel one of life’s greater pleasures in years; cumming balls deep into a cunt he’s hammering into..
every girl has her turn I @/leonarchive I A I there’s no fight, no betrayal, no screaming match. just the gutting realization that leon’s attention has already started drifting somewhere else.
get it while it’s hot I @/leonarchive I S
lavender and cinnamon I @cui-nisi I S I You work at a high-end spa called Exotic Luxuries where you’re assigned to take care of the alluring and mysterious Leon S. Kennedy. But late-night sessions can lead to more than just a regular massage…
shut up mom prank I @uramakimochi I F I in which yours and Leon's teenage kids decide to pull a prank from TikTok on him.
leon vs. superglued jar challenge I @breathings-of-the-heart I F
quarter-zip I @girlwithadragonheart I F + ~S
zombieboy pt2 I @the-archxr I S I As Leon starts to feel the initial effects of las plagas, Luis fills you in on a little secret about the disease that could potentially help out your partner.
(we’re) on fire I @/the-archxr I F + S I There’s a bad desire aching deep in your bones. And in light of your recent divorce, you’ve come to realize that there’s only ever been one person who can cool it—the man you call home.
candy hearts I @ovaryacted I F I It was Valentine's Day at the precinct and everyone was giving out candy grams for their secret admirers. Who knew that one piece of candy would have so much of an impact?
lovers rock I @h4neypot I F I 4 times the team notices something's up with leon and the 1 time they figure it out (spoiler: he's married)
drabble I @saetiate I F
hate that i love you I @praisethegabs I A + F I Leon can't stand seeing you around him. You know how much he hates you and you like having fun with it. Things get worse when the two of you get lost during one mission, with no comms to call for help. Leon blames you for everything, until he revels something he shouldn't.
call and return I @mirrormauve I H/C I Leon has strict orders from you not to call when he's out in the field, even if it's safe to. But something feels different this time.
drabble I @lil-yearnings I F + S
forever night stand I @midnightsummerrain I S I You move to a new city, preparing to start your new job at the DSO. On one evening, you decide to go out for a drink to ease your mind. You end up hooking up with a handsome stranger, thinking it’s just a one-time thing. However, on your first day at work, you discover that the handsome stranger is actually your new superior
blurb I @luveline I C
blurb I @/luveline I F
AO3
nice to date you I @/fippsey I S I You need a cover—fast. Your manipulative ex boyfriend is 60 seconds from walking into the bar you just ran into and you need help. Lucky for you, your eyes land on a head of fine hair and set of broad shoulders alone at the other side of the bar.
5 + 1 sharing a bed I @/dimerization I F + S I You're a DSO agent and have been Leon Kennedy's partner for over a year now. Hunnigan's never messed up a hotel room booking for the two of you before. Normally, sharing a bed with a coworker would just be annoying, but there's a bit of a hitch this time - the thing is, you sort of have a crush on Leon. It'll be fine, you tell yourself; you're a secret agent - you deal with more stressful situations than this on a daily basis. It's not like it's a problem that he's tall and handsome and brilliant and a crack shot and has beautiful eyes and... ugh. Surely fighting bioterrorists and BOWs is more difficult than sharing a bed with Leon for one lousy night. Right? Right?
what’s in a name I @/fairybones I H/C + S I It wasn’t that Leon hated his name, not at all. He just hated hearing it. It was always followed up by someone asking him for something. So you tried your best to extend your kindness to him, and to only use his name in positive ways. But maybe you ended up being too kind, and creating too much space in your life for him.
for once in my life (let me get what i want) I @/harunovella I A + F + S I leon knew this story all too well, the frantic screams of horror, the hoards of bodies terrorizing the environment surrounding him. he had survived this, time and time again... except this time around, he had you. an innocent bystander caught in the midst of chaos. he just never expected saving your life would lead him to fall so deeply in love with you.
Wow, thank you so much for adding Forever Night Stand to the list! I feel honoured being mentioned along so many other talented writers and their great stories 🥰🥰🥰🫶🏻💖
⤷ summary: you and leon attend your routine, post-mission debriefing with your superiors; afterwards, a question from him in the elevator has you rethinking what you thought you knew about what he felt for you. spoiler alert—he finds the courage to ask you out. (4.5k)
⤷ pairing: leon kennedy x female!reader
⤷ genre: friends to lovers, mild slow-burn
⤷ tags: RE9 Leon Kennedy, reader is his mission partner, reader is in her early 30s, unresolved tension, slow-burn-ish relationship, mentions of blood and psychological tests, mentions of hospitalization, slight self-deprecating thoughts, comfort, lighthearted banter
🚏masterlist | part one ᝰ.ᐟ
After your mission, the whole plethora of protocol began.
You woke up to a resounding alarm that signaled your start for the day—a debriefing later this afternoon and mandatory follow-up screening this morning. While your muscles ached in protest as you got up, feeling the lingering remnants of your exhaustion from yesterday and the two days you’ve spent with Leon and your other colleague who must be recovering in the hospital right now.
For a second, you just stared at the ceiling, your routine rumination kicking in.
The events of the previous night returned slowly, and then all at once. Fluorescent hospital lighting, the smell of antiseptic wafting in the air, waiting alongside Leon for any update on your injured colleague while neither of you had the energy to say much of anything, except allow your actions to speak on your behalf.
It doesn’t escape your mind—the way he’d tended to you. You only just realized how attentive he had been, and you aren’t entirely sure if you preferred to be the subject of his attention, if not amongst other things. You can still feel the ghost of his touch on your forehead, the phantom sensation of his lips lingering on your skin.
Reaching up, your fingers lightly graze the spot he’d touched with his mouth. At the memory, your heart throbs beneath your chest, and you silently reprimand yourself. It was far too early to be dealing with this, but you figured you could use making sense of it all because you’ll be seeing him later, and you need to act normal about this.
But seriously speaking, what even is normal about yesterday?
Letting you sleep on his shoulder, tending to your wound, kissing your forehead, telling the driver to go easy on the road for you—what did it mean? What does it mean to you, but most importantly, what does it mean for Leon?
Deciding to brush away your thoughts, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, squinting at the brightness of the screen.
Your heart skipped a beat as you noticed a message from Leon sitting near the top of your notifications.
Leon (6:49 AM)
You alive?
Despite yourself, you let out a quiet breath of amusement at those two little words.
You (6:52 AM)
Barely.
What time’s the screening again?
You’re surprised when you see the typing bubble appearing almost immediately after you’ve sent your reply.
Was he waiting? A voice in your head filtered through your thoughts, but you brought yourself back down to reality when he replied.
Leon (6:53 AM)
9 in the morning.
Don’t be late or they’ll never let us hear the end of it.
You could practically hear the dry exhaustion in his voice through the screen regarding what awaited you for today. Truthfully, you weren’t looking forward to it either, but it’s not like post-mission clearances were negotiable. They were mandatory, as far as you were concerned, despite not being exposed to any B.O.W. during the scope of your mission.
Field clearance at the hospital had only been preliminary—it was a rushed contamination scan, checking of your vitals, and enough questioning by the personnel to ensure neither of you were actively infected. It was just the beginning, because the real evaluation came afterward, which awaited you in the DSO headquarters at exactly nine in the morning.
There would be bloodwork, neurological testing, and even a visit to the shrink for a psychological assessment—all of which was just standard DSO protocol after every mission, whether or not you’ve been exposed to a possible infection.
Your phone buzzed again before you could get up from your bed and start your day.
Leon (7:03 AM)
Need coffee before this.
What’s your order? I’ll grab yours along the way.
You don’t know what it is about his message that makes your lips curve into a small grin, but you allow yourself the smallest of smiles before you end up sending him your coffee order anyway.
It had become routine between the two of you to face these protocols together, and at first, you were daunted by the intensity it proposed. Field clearance meant you were going to be evaluated at every aspect of your well-being, and while you didn’t like being subjected to such scrutiny, doing it with Leon felt a lot like comfort.
At least someone understood. He understood.
You went about your day, showering before putting on your clothes—your usual office clothes for when you’re in headquarters and not on a mission somewhere across the globe. Because you were partly rushing to get to the office before nine in the morning, you forsake breakfast and promise yourself a hearty meal for lunch before the real debriefing begins.
It takes you at least twenty minutes to arrive at the main DSO headquarters because of slight traffic buildup along the way. Thankfully, the taxi you hailed knew how to navigate the bustling streets and had you enter the office building just fifteen minutes before the screening began on the 13th floor of the building.
Once you step out of the elevator, you find Leon leaning against the wall, holding a small tray with coffee cups in one hand, while his fingers are occupied with a small plastic bag filled with… food?
But your eyes weren’t focused on the coffee or the bag.
You were focused on him.
Him, and that devastatingly, annoyingly attractive suit of his that he was wearing, as if it was custom made for him. It fit right around his shoulders and showed less of his arm muscles, but you could still sight them from underneath the fabric. A few buttons of his dress shirt were undone, and you could see the tiniest peek of chest hair beneath it.
Your mouth was somehow… dry. When did he suddenly become so attractive in your eyes? You’ve always seen him in his suit before, especially during debriefings, but what made this time stand out among the other times?
“Hey,” he greeted you as soon as he saw you, which snapped you away from your train of Leon-related thought. You blink, realizing he was staring directly at you now. “Thought you’d be late.”
You swallowed hard. “Uh… there was traffic buildup along the way.” You manage to say before regaining your composure. “Is that for me?” you point towards the coffee.
Leon nodded, handing you the cup. “Careful, it’s a bit hot.” He warned you gently, but you take it anyway.
You sip from the lid, the soothing warmth of the coffee running down your throat and into your empty stomach, which you know you’ll regret later. But then…
“I got you a croissant,” Leon suddenly says, handing you the plastic bag. “I didn’t know what you liked so I just got a plain one.”
“Oh.” You take the plastic bag from him, peeking inside and seeing a croissant wrapped in paper. Your heart skipped a beat at the kind gesture, and you sort of don’t know what to say, except, you blurt out the words before you think of them. “Thank you, that’s very sweet of you, Leon.”
He gave you a small smile, a tiny smirk on the corner of his lips. “Don’t mention it, Y/N. You need to eat something before they throw us to the lion’s den.” He said, almost jokingly.
That made you exhale a quiet huff of amusement.
You follow him as he leads you to a row of chairs near the examination room. Sitting next to him, you set your cup of coffee aside before you take a bite from the croissant, the scent wafting through the air. It was warm and soft and freshly baked, and it immediately satiated the hunger you’ve been feeling ever since you left your apartment.
Leon sat next to you before he brought his phone out, thumb hovering over the screen as he read through a few more texts. You sat quietly next to him as you munch on the pastry he had gotten you, a gesture that made your stomach flutter more than you’d like to admit.
There was at least ten minutes left before you both were called in the company clinic for the bloodwork. You finish your croissant in a couple more bites before setting the wrapper aside, and then finish your coffee in one go. You were about to stand up to throw them to the trashbin on the other end of the hallway, but Leon stopped you.
“I’ll do it,” he offered, taking your cup and his and the plastic bag before walking towards the trashbin. “Just stay put.”
When he returned, you were slightly looking away from him, trying to hide the fact that you’re partially blushing because of his gestures. It probably meant nothing to him, but he was so attentive towards you that even though he’s busy with his phone, he still noticed you enough to know when you’re done eating your food and drinking your coffee. As always, Leon has his surroundings in check, especially you, in particular.
“Did you get some sleep?” He suddenly asked, breaking the silence.
“Not enough,” you answer him with a shrug. “And you?”
Leon made a gesture with his hand, something that mirrored your answer. “Couple hours,” he admitted, almost vaguely, as if he wasn’t sure with his own response too.
You can’t help but wonder what he’s like when he’s asleep. Does he snore? Does he move a lot? Is he a light sleeper, or the contrary? You picture Leon in bed, eyes closed—your imagination does tricks on you and he’s suddenly topless, wearing nothing but pajama pants and the waistband hanging so deliciously low on his—
Oh no.
Your mind was becoming something traitorous—filling your head with thoughts of Leon you’re not even supposed to be thinking about. It fills you with an insane amount of shame, and you cut it out before Leon wondered why you were suddenly blushing beside him. You weren’t going to take it if he did notice. And if he asked, what were you even going to say? That you imagined him half-naked in bed?
Either way, the image of him in just his pajamas lingered in your mind for a few more seconds, before you eventually steel yourself to focus on the fact that you’re minutes away from being poked and prodded by company nurses.
Thankfully, the two of you sit in peaceful, gentle conversation. You talk about your mission and things you may have or have not missed, running through the memory as though it just happened an hour ago. Somewhere farther down, a nurse wheeled a cart past one of the clinic doors. Phones rang occasionally at the reception desk nearby, muted behind glass walls and the hum of low conversation.
“You think Harper’s going to be okay?” You suddenly asked, remembering the state of your colleague who was recovering in the hospital as of late.
Leon’s posture shifted slightly beside you. “They said he’s stable, which is a good sign.” He replied, meeting your gaze.
Although you nodded, there was a subtle knot that remained within your stomach. It was just the reality of your job, an occupational hazard that you should have been used to, but the knowledge that it could either be you, Leon, or another colleague between life or death during a mission left you feeling unsettled.
Images from the mission still flashed unpleasantly behind your eyelids if you focus long and hard enough. You remember crimson staining concrete. The panic of your voice over comms. The sound of a bomb detonating as soon as you retrieved the virus sample from the bunker.
You exhale a sigh, shaking your head slightly to try and dislodge the thoughts from your head, especially before your upcoming neuropsychological evaluation.
“You know… you did good back there,” Leon murmured beside you. He turns his head before looking down at you. “During the mission, you kept a level head. I admire you for that.”
It was so sudden that you barely digest his words, and you only did after a second and a heartbeat. “I couldn’t have done it without you taking the lead,” you reply almost timidly. “Besides, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if we lost Harper…”
“Hey, no. Let’s not think about that,” Leon interjects gently, shifting from his seat so he would be facing you. “You reacted immediately. You were the one who got us out of there. You called for extraction when we needed it A-S-A-P.”
You look down at your lap, suddenly finding it far more interesting than meeting his eyes. “That’s kind of the bare minimum of my job description,” you mutter weakly, hating the slight self-deprecation in your tone.
Despite your words, Leon was still looking at you as if this mission had mattered more than the two of you let on. Like you mattered, specifically. To him, you did. But that was a conversation for a later time.
“You kept everything together, you know. Even when things went straight to hell.” He tells you more sincerely this time, and your throat tightens at the praise.
Still, you try to laugh it off anyway as you’re not used to hearing such words from him. “You’re making me sound more competent than I actually am, Kennedy.”
“I’m serious,” Leon’s voice drops lower this time, a raw honesty lacing each and every syllable of his words. “You don’t give yourself enough credit for it.”
That actually catches you off guard more than the compliment itself, more than the earlier words he’s said to you. You’ve been partnered up with Leon for quite some time now, and you knew Leon wasn’t the kind of person who said things he didn’t mean.
The realization of it settled in a certain warmth beneath your ribs.
But before you could think of a response, a nurse stepped out from one of the clinic doors, holding a clipboard before calling both of your names.
“Agents Kennedy and Y/L/N?”
The moment had slipped away into thin air, but somehow, the warmth of Leon’s words lingered within your mind and heart anyway.
—
After your medical and psychological screening, the formal debriefing began in one of the conference rooms of the DSO headquarters. Your commanding officer was present along with an intelligence analyst, and you sat beside Leon as your superiors began grilling you with questions about the most recent mission.
You were forced to recall every detail, even the ones you may have overlooked. Every detail, no matter how small or miniscule, had suddenly mattered. Because to your commanding officer, everything should be accounted for, even the slightest hiccup or bump along the road.
Though, because of Harper’s injuries and a near-death casualty, several of the senior officials had become more thorough with their line of questioning.
“Walk us through the extraction,” the director said evenly, sitting across both you and Leon in a row of other senior officials, your commanding officer included. “Agent Kennedy?”
Leon leaned back slightly against his hair, though you notice the way his shoulders remained tense. The target was moved approximately twenty minutes before we breached the facility,” he explained calmly. “The bomb—we believed it avoided detection.”
One of the officials glanced at the report. “Our team still hasn’t determined how that happened.” He said, his eyes squinting at the paper.
“The lighting conditions underground were poor,” you explain carefully, hiding the slight tremor in your voice. “Visibility was already compromised before we entered the lower sector.”
That makes your commanding officer look at you. “And thermal?”
“Minimal signature,” Leon answered on your behalf. “The device was concealed beneath the support structure.”
You decide to continue. “Our original entry and exit points were compromised before we even got inside. We weren’t able to locate the device or what triggered it. ” You explained to them, picking at some invisible fuzz on your pants beneath the table.
A man further down the table inspects the report in front of him. “And yet you proceeded.”
That had you resisting the urge to sigh. This was the more difficult aspect of debriefing sessions—you had to endure the snarky, subtle remarks from your commanding officer or other senior officials who always seemed to question your every move. Especially when it’s you who was speaking.
They never bat an eye when it was Leon who was explaining; probably because he was tenured and way more experienced than you were. You were only a couple of years into the role, but you liked to believe you learned the ropes just as quickly as anyone else, if not quicker than the average agent in the organization.
“We adapted to the situation, sir,” Leon answered before you can, calm and steady and oddly reassuring. “Our priority was recovering Harper alive.”
The official narrowed his eyes slightly. “Agent Y/L/N requested emergency extraction ahead of schedule.” He pointed out.
Your stomach tightens slightly at the sudden attention from the row of men looking at you, waiting for an answer. “Yes sir,” you say, loud enough for them to hear.
“Why?”
You straighten up subtly in your seat, conscious of the way these men were looking at you like you were some rookie agent that needed guidance and a lot of training. “Structural integrity was failing,” you explain as best as you could. “After the explosion, portions of the lower level had already started collapsing. Communications were unstable, and Harper was losing consciousness.
The official watches you for a moment. Almost too long, too quiet. It eats away at you, and you’re suddenly nervous about what they had to say. Then, he spoke, “And you believed extraction was more important than completing the sweep.”
“With all due respect, sir, our objective was to get Harper out and alive and safe.”
A heavy, thick silence followed. It wasn’t hostile, but more evaluating than you’d expect. You can practically feel your commanding officer watching to see whether you’d fold under pressure, but you weren’t about to give them the satisfaction.
Instead, Leon spoke, before anyone else could.
“She made the right call,” the certainty in his voice cut cleanly throughout the room, his voice resounding against the sterile walls. Your eyes flick instinctively toward him just as your heart skipped a beat.
The official leans back slightly in his chair, assessing Leon with scrutiny. “And you’re confident in that assessment, Agent Kennedy?”
Leon nodded once. He didn’t even think twice. He never did, not when it came to this. To you. “Yes sir.”
“Even though the mission concluded with one operative hospitalized?”
You lower your gaze briefly, feeling the sting in the official’s words. But Leon doesn’t. He remained a constant, grounding presence beside you. He was strong enough to defend himself, but even more when it came to you.
“The casualties would’ve been significantly worse if we stayed underground longer,” he answered smoothly, almost without blinking. The confidence in his tone had goosebumps rising on your skin. “Agent Y/L/N recognized that before I did.”
The room goes quiet. So much so that you can hear a pin drop in the silence. For the first time since entering the conference room, you realize Leon isn’t just supporting your decisions. He’s actively standing beside them.
He’s standing right beside you.
—
The debriefing lasted longer than you expected. By the time you exit the conference room, it was already a little over five in the afternoon. It started a little over twelve noon, and dragged along far more than you and Leon ever liked.
Both of you walk in silence. Leon mentioned grabbing something from his office and you wanted to tag along for the sake of walking with him. After everything you’ve endured in that conference room, the air between the two of you solidified into more than just camaraderie. More than just a partnership built through years of shared missions and closed calls and shared proximity in cramped spaces.
Something has greatly shifted, and you’re unsure if you want to acknowledge it yet.
You trail along him while he quickly grabs something from his office—you didn’t bother asking him what it was. He only opened the door for you and told you to make yourself at home, even though you barely stayed for five minutes. You just looked around; the space was almost bare of any personal effects, only a couple on his desk and nothing more.
“You ready to leave?” Leon asked eventually, while you were leaning against the doorframe, watching him with a softening gaze.
You nodded. “Yeah.”
The walk back through the halls feels quieter now. It wasn’t awkward or anything, but something had definitely changed, even through the silence of your feet padding across the floor. The weight of everything said earlier in the debriefing and before that lingered between the two of you, woven carefully into every wayward glance and every reminder of your proximity.
By the time the elevator doors slid open, most of the office floor had already emptied out for the evening, leaving just the two of you in the metal box. Silence hummed softly around you, alongside the mechanical descent of the elevator, and it was soothing, somewhat.
You’re very hyperaware of Leon standing beside you. The way his cologne lingered in the air, something expensive and unique to him. The way he looked slightly disheveled which made him appear softer somehow. Less like an agent, and more like simply… Leon. A version of him that only you get to see.
A version of him that belonged to you.
The thought startled you enough that you almost missed it when he spoke.
“So…” Leon starts, rubbing the back of his neck briefly as he glances at you. “Are you busy tonight?
Your head turns toward him immediately. The question appeared casual, but the slight tension in his shoulders and the way he avoided your gaze gave him away.
“That depends,” you answer carefully, fighting the smile threatening to form on your rosy lips. “Why?”
Leon glances toward the glowing elevator numbers on the console before looking back at you. “There’s this place nearby,” he said with a shrug. “Figured we could maybe grab dinner together?”
“If you want to, that is.”
You answer him before you could even think, the words tumbling out like a race between your heart and mind. “Are you asking me out?”
Leon blinks once, as if he wasn’t expecting you to say it out loud so directly. Even you were taken aback by your sudden straightforwardness. “I mean…” He exhales quietly through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching upward, almost subtle. “That depends.”
You fold your arms loosely across your chest, trying and almost miserably failing to suppress your amusement. This was the first time you’d seen Leon like this, and you’re not sure how to react. “On what exactly?”
“On whether you say yes or you embarrass me in this elevator.”
A laugh slipped out of you before you could even stop it. As you did, you noticed Leon’s shoulders ease at the sound of your laugh, and it didn’t occur to you that this was something he’d be jittery about.
“You're nervous,” you point out then, a realization and a curiosity packed up in just two words.
That earned you a look from him, almost unreadable, but it seemed… honest. “Believe it or not, asking out someone I’ve been partnered with for years is a little different from field work,” he muttered dryly.
You immediately feel something warm bloom within your chest, radiating across your arms and limbs and settles deeply in the pit of your stomach. The feeling was akin to a flutter, and something tingly all in one.
The elevator continues its slow descent, blissfully unaware of the fact that your entire world feels slightly off kilter right now. The air in the elevator is thick with something you don’t know yet, but you feel yourself smiling.
“So this is you asking me out,” you tease him softly.
Leon looks at you straight in the eye, his lips twitching into a small smirk. “Yeah,” he answered smoothly. “It is. What are you gonna do about it?”
You tilt your head slightly, pretending to think about his offer, even when you already know the answer yourself. “Hm…” you hum softly. “I guess I could say yes.”
“You guess?” His brow raises a bit.
“You’re awfully demanding for someone who was nervous thirty seconds ago,” you say as a laugh escapes you before you can stop it.
Leon huffs quietly beside you, though the corner of his mouth still threatens to curl upward. “I wasn’t nervous.” He said in his own defense.
You grin at him. “Sure you weren’t.”
The elevator continues descending—slow and steady, while something lighter settles between the two of you at last. The silence that overlaps for a second or two is comforting, almost as if it had existed between the two of you ever since.
“So?” Leon prods after a second, his voice softening this time. “Is that a real yes?”
Your teasing softened immediately at the question, because beneath the dry humor and the smirk on his lips, you can hear the hints of uncertainty that coated every syllable of his words. Leon was being careful, if not hopeful around you, and that somehow endeared you, that he was cautious about this interaction you’re both having in the elevator.
You then decide to step a little closer to him, close enough that your shoulders brush against each other. “Yes,” you tell him, craning your head to look up. “Yes, we can grab dinner tonight.”
And the next night, and another.
For a second, Leon just looked at you.
Then, that smile of his reappeared—small, genuine, and enough to soften every sharp edge of exhaustion that had been left on his face since the debriefing. He looked younger somehow, more handsome, rough around the edges but absolutely good looking.
You were certain your heart just skipped a beat, just as your stomach began its gymnastics within you. Fluttering like an erratic butterfly.
It was only then that you realized—you were already at the precipice of falling.
You had only hoped that Leon would be waiting to catch you when you took the leap.
⤷ a/n: i wrote this on a whim so i'm sorry if there are any grammatical errors (no beta read done here) 😭 i'm glad i was finally able to finish this, despite being hung up on a few parts for a few days. anyway, i hope you like it! i'd love to hear about your thoughts and feedback, so please feel free to send me an ask, comment, or message me! 🤍
part 3 is already in the works! also, i'm thinking of ending it at part 4 or 5 since i don't want to drag it out. but what do you think about it so far? let me know 🫡
the tag list for this mini series is still open. let me know if you want to be a part of it!
thank you for reading, have a wonderful day ahead! 💐
⤷ summary: after a mission gone slightly awry, one of your colleagues got heavily wounded, prompting an emergency surgery. you and leon sit in the waiting room, anticipating the worst, but the quiet intimacy provides a comfort neither of you want to acknowledge just yet. (3.9k words)
⤷ pairing: leon kennedy x female!reader
⤷ genre: comfort, mild slow-burn
⤷ tags: RE9 Leon Kennedy, reader is his mission partner, reader is in her early 30s, both of them are mildly injured after a mission, mentions of blood and wounds, comfort, unresolved tension, slow-burn-ish relationship
🚏masterlist | part two ᝰ.ᐟ
You glance at the clock for the nth time, trying to distract yourself from the thoughts that threaten to consume you in the stillness of the waiting room.
It’s awfully quiet, save for the staff passing by the area, the quiet shuffle of footsteps of people who were also waiting for something to happen. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, but it still feels as if the world was holding its breath, not just you.
Or Leon, for that matter.
He sat two chairs away from you, and he hasn’t moved too much ever since he arrived once he explained the situation to his superiors through a quick phone call that sounded less like an emergency, and more of a formality in this line of work.
The two of you had just gone back from a mission along with your other colleague who was currently in the operating room after he nearly got obliterated by an unsuspecting bomb that turned everything into bits and pieces of shrapnel. Thankfully, you and Leon had reacted quickly, calling for extraction before you even realized your colleague was losing so much blood.
After your superiors were notified, all three of you were immediately taken to the hospital. The surgery began two hours ago, and the silence that had elapsed since then was beginning to bug you, because there was so much to be said about what happened earlier, except, it was truly an oversight. The bomb that had detonated had been hidden away from sight, thus making it more difficult to decipher in the dim conditions you were already faced with during your mission.
Thankfully, your directive had been accomplished—you managed to secure the sample of a degenerate virus that was about to be sold to a black market to create more bio organic weapons.
But this happened at the expense of your colleague, whose family was sure to be worried sick. Your superiors had done the work to explain the situation to his family, and you’re sure they will be swarming up the waiting room in a while.
For now, however, it’s just you and Leon.
He had his elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped with his head bowed just a little—almost in defeat if not exhaustion, or perhaps a mixture of both. It was the kind of stillness that felt as though he’s holding himself together in your presence.
You glance at him. His jacket was gone, and his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, exposing the veins that ran along his skin. There’s a faint smear of something crimson across it—something dried. Or not. But perhaps he had just not bothered to check after the adrenaline had worn down and had been replaced by a silent contemplation.
Again, the clock on the wall ticks and you’re vaguely aware of how it’s become a rhythm that fills the silence. You don’t like it. The stillness, the silence, the quiet anticipation for some good or bad news—it all felt out of your control.
You bounce your leg a little, a habit of yours that gives your nerves away. You look at Leon once more, before you look away.
“Hey,” you say after a few heartbeats of silence, your voice softer and quieter than you had intended.
Leon doesn’t respond immediately. For a second, you think he never heard you, but then he exhales quietly, as if he’s coming back from somewhere else in his mind.
“Yeah?” came his quiet, steady response. Leon glances at you once, before turning away. There’s a certain dread laced in his tone. Something that mirrors you.
Then, you slightly hesitate. The question you want to ask sits heavily on your tongue, and you're unsure if you should even voice it out.
It’s not as if the two of you left the scene unscathed. If anything, you’re sure you’re sporting a few cuts and wounds, maybe even a bruise on your side that left you sitting stiffly. But these all seemed secondary to the state of your colleague inside the operating room. His life was on the line.
Leon, on the other hand, wasn’t very vocal about his injuries. Maybe he hasn’t noticed it yet, or maybe he has. Either way, you’re unsure if you should point it out.
Instead, you say, “you should probably get that looked at.”
There was a beat of silence before Leon glanced down at his arm as if he’s seeing the wound for the first time. Then, he looked back at you, his gaze partially softening when he looked at the state of you—disheveled hair, dirt and grime on your cheeks, and a nasty cut on your forehead that you’ve barely acknowledged.
“It’s nothing, Y/N.” He answered you, and you’re fully aware of how he’s suddenly scanning your frame like some detector made to discover wounds and bruises.
You shift uncomfortably in your seat as he looks at you. “Of course it’s nothing.” You mutter underneath your breath, but you’re sure he heard you.
Leon exhales a huff, not quite a laugh but almost. “I’ll live. You, on the other hand, should get that cut on your forehead cleaned up and checked before it gets infected.” He tells you as if his words are your new directives.
“It doesn’t hurt.” You answer him back, your gaze focusing on his arm and the way crimson stains his honeyed skin. “But I could say the same to you.”
A tiny smile curves on his lips as he hears the stubbornness in your tone. “Fine. We’ll both stay here then.”
That makes you smile a bit.
Silence settles again between the two of you, and this time, it lingers slightly.
Somewhere down the hall, a door opens. You hear the footsteps approaching, and you nearly stand up in your seat, until you hear a voice calling out a name that isn’t yours or your colleague’s. Leon’s gaze shifts toward the sudden sound of it instinctively, sharp for a split second, then he eases down when he realizes it’s not who you’re waiting for.
You notice it—the way he seemed on edge, earlier until now. He didn’t even have to say it. Some time early on, when Leon became your assigned partner, you had learned to read his tells, his little habits and quirks. Yet somehow, he’s still unpredictable to you.
The words escape your lips before you could even stop yourself from asking.
“You think he’ll be okay?”
Leon doesn’t answer immediately. You notice his jaw tightening just a bit as his eyes drop to nothing in particular, as if he’s searching for the answer himself too. You know he’s not one for blind, empty promises, and even something as simple as reassurance feels too complex given the gravity of the situation right now.
“He’s in good hands,” he says after a moment.
It wasn’t really an answer, you knew. It was the kind of thing that people say when they don’t have a definite answer to give, and while you needed the certainty, you knew Leon didn’t have enough of it to give, especially when your colleague’s being nursed back to health inside that room that you stare at for minutes, hoping it’ll make the operation go faster.
You notice Leon looking at you again. There’s something unreadable in his expression, but it lingers too long for you to say something, but before you call him out on it, he stands up and walks past you, rounding a corner to the nurses station. He probably went to ask about the operation again, you thought. Both of you were already growing impatient.
But when he returned at least a couple of minutes later, he was holding a packet of wet wipes in one hand, and two bottles of water in the other. This time, Leon sits right next to you, handing you one bottle, and then the packet of wet wipes.
“What’s this?” You ask, but taking the item nonetheless.
“It’s for your forehead,” Leon answered you simply. “Figured we should at least try to clean up while waiting.”
You offer him a small smile, one that feels appropriate to the situation. There’s that feeling of endearment welling up in your heart, but you remind yourself it’s just the typical nature of how he acts around you.
Still, you thank him for his kindness. “Thanks, Leon.”
“Don’t mention it.”
You pull a wet wipe from the packet before you bring it to your face, dabbing what you could to get the grime off and away from your skin. Leon did the same, except he’s cleaning around the edges of the wound you pointed out a while ago. You hear him hiss quietly, as if containing himself, and it was so like him to refrain from showing too much vulnerability in a public space.
Even if it was just the two of you in that waiting room at the moment.
“You missed a spot,” Leon pointed out, looking at your face.
That makes your brows furrow. You bring the edge of the wet wipe around the cut on your forehead which makes you wince. “Here?” you ask him, having no available mirror at the moment.
Leon shakes his head. Before you could even ask where, he reaches out and wipes a smidgen of dirt away from your cheek, his calloused touch lingering over the heat of your skin. He holds your face for a second, his thumb wiping away the leftover specks, before his touch settles there.
For a moment, you hold your breath. You stare at him, how his face softens up as he gazes at you, as he takes in the sight of your injury, and you’re briefly aware of how his pupils dilate when he looks at you, then his gaze drifts lower, then back up to your eyes.
“Leon—”
“It’s all good now.” He releases you, and you suddenly feel a pang of loss, a longing for his touch you never knew existed within you.
Swallowing hard, you try to hide the heat creeping up your neck, or the sudden thrum of your heartbeat. “Thanks.”
Leon returns to his earlier composure, focusing on cleaning up his forearms while you sit there beside him, acutely aware of his largeness, his warmth. There was a time when Leon’s presence never bothered you this way, as if you were never subjecting yourself to the scrutiny of being close to him.
But something shifted, along the way.
Maybe it was because of the hours you spent together in the office, time poured over reports and briefings. Or, the proximity you find yourself in with him whenever you’re on missions, where he’s asking you to stay closer and only lets you go when you really need to part ways—the whole divide and conquer thing. If anything, Leon preferred it less when you were away and out of his sight. Though, he’ll never openly admit that to you just yet, won’t he?
Maybe it’s the quiet intimacy you find yourself in after missions. The silence when you’re patching yourselves up, or the relief the two of you feel when it’s another mission accomplished and you’re finally able to call it a day.
Being assigned as Leon’s partner meant a lot of things and it wasn’t nothing to you. Perhaps it wasn’t nothing to him either, but there was just something about the way he treats you that makes you wonder—is there something there?
Surely his offers and invites for lunch, dinner, and coffee mean something?
You aren’t even sure.
Despite this, you’re sure of many things—in the battlefield, on missions, Leon has your back more than you’d like to admit. If you believe for a second you’re alone, he reminds you by making sure he’s always two paces behind. He prefers watching your back. He prefers being able to see what’s ahead, and what’s trailing from behind the two of you. It’s safer that way, even when it’s at the possible expense of his own safety.
Shaking away these thoughts, you lean back the seat and uncap the bottle of water. You take a few reluctant sips, the refreshing water hydrating your parched throat. Setting it on your lap, you tilt your head back against the wall, gazing up again at the clock.
“He’ll be in there for a few more hours,” Leon suddenly tells you, setting the dirtied wet wipes aside and reaching for his own bottle of water. “I talked to one of the nurses. He’ll be okay, but he’ll be in there a while.”
You hum. “I see.”
“You should probably get some rest,” he offered gently. Leon turns his head to look at you, his blue eyes swimming with depth. “I’ll wake you up if anything happens. But you should close your eyes for a bit, get some shuteye while waiting.”
You knew you were in no position to complain. When Leon pointed out getting some rest, you’re suddenly very aware of the exhaustion in your limbs, the way your joints screamed for protest when you stretch or move them. Your legs are aching from all the running, and even your neck feels strained from staring up the clock.
It was second nature for you to refuse. You wanted to tell him that he also deserved to rest, but knowing Leon, your needs were primary to him. He always mentioned that you should always be at your best, and he’ll make sure of it.
Both in and out of missions, it appeared.
“How kind of you,” you reply with a hint of playfulness in your tone. “Always looking out for your junior, Kennedy?”
Leon huffs. “I’m looking out for my partner, Y/N.”
Somehow, that makes you feel flustered.
The way he says it—my partner—feels more serious than he’d let on. You want to acknowledge it, but the moment feels raw and unready for you to say anything more. Instead, you just bite at your lower lip and look away, pretending to gaze at the doors again, anything to deflect the words he’d so casually thrown at you without sparing a thought for your sanity.
Then, feeling the exhaustion take over you, you lean back your head against the wall and close your eyes as your vision blurred over the edges. You can feel Leon’s shoulders touching yours, a steady presence in the uncertainty of the moment.
It wasn’t long before you were dozing off. The way you sat upright wasn’t exactly the most comfortable position, but you’ve learned over the course of over a dozen missions that it was better to get some rest like this than none at all.
In fact, you were sure you were asleep for a while, because when you woke up, you weren’t sitting upright anymore—your head was leaning on Leon’s shoulder. You froze and held your breath at the realization; so much so that it wakes you fully.
You wanted to lift your head almost immediately, afraid to inconvenience Leon any further, but you realize, with the way his breaths are a steady rise and fall, he’s asleep as well. You sneak a glance, and he’s sitting upright for the two of you, arms crossed over his chest while his brow furrows a bit.
It stole your breath.
You were so close to him that you can feel his warmth, can inhale his scent, and even feel the muscles of his arms brushing against your own. You had never been this close to him before, and you felt a sudden gush of giddiness, however subtle, but there nonetheless.
Deciding to take advantage of the moment, you sneak a few glances. He doesn’t look too peaceful while he’s asleep, but there’s a semblance of quiet calm written over his features that makes you want to burn the image of his face in the back of your mind forever. You’ve taken first watch during missions before, and Leon’s never looked like this when he’s closing his eyes.
Furrowed brows… that perfect nose, and even more perfect lips—
Wait, what?
Before you could reprimand yourself for having these thoughts, footsteps approach you and you pretend to be asleep on his shoulder again.
“Mr. Kennedy?” One of the surgeons stands before you.
You feel Leon shift carefully, as if trying not to jostle you.
“Is everything okay?” Leon’s voice was slightly groggy, a raspy husk that tickles you, somehow.
The surgeon starts explaining the condition of your colleague, mentioning that he’s now stable after all that they’ve done to him. All the while, Leon remains still, acting as your pillow and your cornerstone right now, and your heart begins pounding beneath your chest again. It was so easy for him to do nothing but affect you more than you realize, and you’re unsure if you like the feeling or not.
When the surgeon excuses himself, that was your cue to stop pretending to be asleep. You waited a couple of seconds before opening your eyes again, adjusting the fluorescent lights and the scenery around you, sterile and quiet.
“Hey, you’re awake,” Leon murmured, and you felt his breath fanning over the top of your head. You sit back upright, and adjust your position on the seat. “He’s okay. He’s stable.”
You hum, pretending as if you hadn’t heard the surgeon's explanation just moments ago. “That’s really good news.”
“Yeah,” Leon agrees with you, his eyes briefly glancing over you to observe your expression. “Did you get some sleep?”
Of course you did. You were comfortable on his shoulder, and you had hoped you could have more seconds if not minutes laying on it again. It felt right—to be that close to him. It felt safe.
“I did, yeah… thanks for letting me nap on your shoulder.” You say, offering him a small, drowsy smile. “Beats all the hotels we’ve been to, huh?”
The tease makes him chuckle quietly, a reference to your conferences or mission briefings. “Sure. Hospital waiting rooms take the five stars right off the bat.”
That elicits a small laugh from you before you shake your head.
Suddenly, there’s a certain lightness in the atmosphere. Your colleague’s fine, you and Leon are fine, and the mission has been a success without any fatalities. It felt like a relief, and a reward all in one. Especially after you’ve spent at least an hour or two napping on Leon’s shoulder without you even realizing it.
“The company car will be here in a few minutes,” he tells you as he looks at his company-issued phone. “About time we go home and get some proper rest.”
Nodding, you clean up your mess of wet wipes and the half-empty water bottle he’d gotten for you. When Leon stands up, you follow suit, stretching your languid limbs and feeling the ache in your joints—telling you that you deserve to rest on your queen-sized bed in your comfy apartment and shut off the world for at least ten hours before your debriefing in the office with your superiors afterwards.
You follow Leon as you both navigate the hospital corridors and lobbies before you reach the main entrance. Outside, there were two company cars, supposedly taking both of you home—individually.
You don’t know why that bothers you, when usually, you both left separately after a mission. It was only after debriefings that you got the opportunity to linger around Leon or vice versa.
But then, he was walking you towards your vehicle first. He opens the door for you and waits for you to get in, and you don’t miss the chivalrous intent. Before you do, you stand there, not because you’re stalling, but because he looked as if he had something more to say to you. It was written all over his face—you just needed him to say the words.
“What?” you prompt, tilting your head to the side in curiosity.
Blinking, Leon shakes his head. “Nothing. Just wanted to make sure you’re getting home safely.” He murmured, loud enough for the two of you to hear, like a spoken secret.
“I’ll be fine.” You reassure him, though you don’t know why you’re doing such a thing. “The company car will have me snoozing in a few minutes.”
Leon smirked at that. “I’ll make sure to tell the driver to go easy on the road.” He says as if he’s promising you such a thing. “Take care of yourself, Y/N. I’ll see you later.”
Then, before you could say anything, he’s leaning in, pressing a ghost of a kiss against your forehead, lingering just a few millimeters away from your wound. He knew you would patch yourself up later. Just how he’ll do the same when he’s back at his own apartment. But he felt the need to remind you, to tell you that your comfort and well-being mattered to him just as much as his own.
He’s pulling away before you could even react. Leon just gives you a nod, before encouraging you to get in the car. And you do. Wordlessly. Trying to pick up the pieces of your bearings for what he just did, because he’s never done that before.
As soon as you’re settled in the car, Leon gives you one more meaningful look before he closes the door with a thud. Then, he circled the car to the driver’s seat, where he murmured something to the driver before walking towards the next vehicle and climbing in.
You are genuinely so confused, but it’s not like his touch was unwelcome. You were still grasping the fact that he had so bluntly kissed your forehead as if he was bidding a lover goodnight. You weren’t that to him, were you?
At least, not yet.
The thought makes you shudder.
Your mind was already going to various places tonight, and Leon certainly gave you so much to think. But as soon as you arrive at your apartment, you shut the door behind you. It was a little over four in the morning then, and your debriefing’s at two in the afternoon, so you were eager to get in bed.
After washing up as quickly as you can, you change into an oversized shirt and some underwear, before climbing your bed and settling in the sheets. You were ready to drift off to sleep, but your mind has you replaying the moments of a while ago, when Leon pecked your forehead.
You touch the spot he’d kissed, as if feeling the phantom sensation of it all over again. Somehow, just the reminder of it made your heart stutter in your chest as a warmth bloomed over your face. Leon has definitely given you so much to think about, and you aren’t even sure if you’re ready to acknowledge all of it.
Number one, he’s your colleague.
Number two, he’s your insanely attractive, chivalrous, and witty colleague.
Number three, he’s probably just being nice. Right?
You groan against your pillow and force yourself to stop thinking about it.
When you do convince yourself to stop it, you easily drift off to sleep as the exhaustion consumes you. You like to believe that you’re the only one hung up over this, and so, that was enough to make you think about getting enough sleep and rest rather than focusing over whatever Leon has done to you.
Little did you know, however, that somewhere across the city, Leon was thinking about you too.
You are his last thought before falling asleep, and somehow, even in the middle of a dreamless slumber, you still are.
⤷ a/n: if you're reading this, then thank you for taking the time to read this fic! it's a bit poorly written since i wrote it on a whim (no beta read) and i'm thinking of doing a part 2 for this but that's still being decided (though if you want one, let me know in the replies/my asks!)
anyway, i'm not very good with tension and writing slow burn so i'm truly sorry if this feels so rushed 😓 i promise i'll have something more afterwards!
by the way, thank you so much for 800+ followers! this account has grown ever since i started writing here, thank you for supporting my works 💗 i sincerely appreciate each and every single one of you! it means the world to me!
also, my taglist is open if you're interested of being a part of it! moreover, my requests are open as well, but i'll only consider a few since i'm working on other requests, but feel free to stop by and chat and send in anything! 🫶
thank you so much for reading! i'm so excited to share more of my works with you in the future (and quite possibly a series too 👀) have a lovely day, wherever you are! 💖
𝐜𝐰. 5.8k words, cowboy!leon, swearing, mutual pining, gun violence, kidnapping, hostage situation, ambiguous wild west setting, physical violence, gun violence, alcohol, historical inaccuracies, wild west slang, happy ending, character death (antagonists), injury, poorly written gunfight sequence, leon is down bad, reader gets carried, pet names (sweetheart, pretty thing), no use of y/n
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞. i've had cowboy leon on the mind lately and @smokepotgivetop's headcanons have been rotating in my mind for DAYS so go give them a read you will not regret it!!! btw the title is from "el paso" by marty robbins and it's such a good song, give it a listen!! (would you believe me if i said this was supposed to be like 2.5k words max... and i'm really sorry about the old west speech like really really sorry)
Leon stood leaning against the porch column of the general store, arms crossed against his chest, watching the sun creep closer and closer to the horizon line. He’d been there for some time. A few hours, give or take.
You were supposed to meet him there. You always pranced over to see him, already bursting with updates about the hens or what your friends got up to earlier in the morning. Not today, though. Today he was all alone.
He wondered where you were. Well, that was something he did on the regular, but especially in this moment, he couldn’t help but stew in his disappointment. Seeing you after a long day of hard work in the blazing sun was like an ice cold glass of water, maybe better. It was a ritual, a habit to see you every evening. One he looked forward to from the moment you parted ways until the second you came into his view again the next day. You never failed to lift his spirits, to fluster him, to crack open his tough exterior to reveal the charmer inside. You could make him blush like a loller and forget what he’d been saying without even trying.
He was plum mashed. He ached for you. He couldn’t help it.
“Lookin’ for your sweetheart?” One of the regular bartenders from the saloon, heading home after his dayshift, called out. Leon ducked his head, hoping the wide brim of his hat would hide some of the redness creeping across his cheeks.
“It’s not like that,” he mumbled so low that only he could hear.
Of course, it was like that, but not in actuality. He wished he could call you his sweetheart. He wished when you came bounding over to him after his long days of work that you would give him a kiss on the cheek and he would wrap his arm around your waist. He wished you were his, that you’d promise he was the only one for you and that you loved him as much as he loved you. He wished you hadn’t left him hanging, waiting only for you to be a no-show.
The bartender halted his leisurely meandering down the dirt main street. His jaw tensed, then relaxed. “Well, there’s no easy way to say this, pal.” Leon only nodded jerkily, indicating for him to continue. “Heard from a couple o’ patrons that some bandits been eyeing them farms and nicer places just outside o’ town. Couple o’ the folks ‘round there been missing, but the only one ain’t been found yet is yours.” Leon would have been flustered, even a little weak in the knees to hear you be called his if he weren’t so damn worried about what he’d just been told. He took a step forward, posture straightening from where he’d been grumpily slouched.
“You think they’ve been taken?” The bartender sighed and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. His hands came up, empty, in a defeated gesture. Leon knew his demeanor was intense; it came with the territory of being a late arrival to the town and a strong, hard worker that didn’t much care for chitchat. The bartender was just trying to help the best he could, and clearly wished he had more to tell.
“Well… I don’t know much, just what I overhear at the groggery. But it sounds to me like the others were just gettin’ up to no good, runnin’ round out in the grasses and comin’ back late, but this last one never misses supper with the folks, and that’s just what happened yesterday. Been missin’ since about… oh, about shank of the evenin’ yesterday some worries started kickin’ up.”
Leon’s heart pounded. Just about this time yesterday he’d patted your head and started making his way in one direction and you in the other, going your separate ways for supper and sleep. You’d giggled while the sunset had cast a golden sheen across your cheeks, and he’d held his breath to keep his lips pursed and too preoccupied to kiss your cheek before his mind could stop him. Was that the last time you’d been seen by another soul in this little town?
The bartender glanced about uneasily. The street wasn’t empty, but it was less lively than usual around this hour. He conspiratorially leaned forward a bit.
“Heard a prison mine not too far away had a little break-out. Fella passing through was comin’ from that direction and said only a few of ‘em got loose, and they lost their brain, but the brawns are still out somewhere.” He took a step back, seemingly done sharing what he wanted to keep quiet, and shrugged. “I don’t know for sure, but I reckon they could be involved.”
Leon’s jaw clenched. “This fella tell you where to look for ‘em?” The bartender shook his head, putting on a sly grin.
“Fella didn’t tell me shit.” He pointed to his ears. “Just ran his mouth to a couple other patrons after a pair of overalls.” Leon stared. The setting sun beyond the street’s rooftops casted shadows that were only accentuated on his face by the tipped brim of his hat. The bartender’s eyes widened with understanding. “Oh! Naw, he didn’t… mentioned he came from the southwest of ‘ere, though.” He started to head away to his home, presumably. Then he stopped in his tracks, twisting his back to give Leon another glance. “Good luck rescuin’ your sweetheart.”
His yellowed teeth were exposed in a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes, like there was more behind his well wishes that he didn’t let on. Leon didn’t have time to dwell on it. He turned on his heel and moved with purpose.
He needed a compass.
Leon rode out that very night. The folks he was hired by never paid any mind to him taking a horse out for a little moonlight ride when he was too restless to sleep, so with his revolver holstered and his jaw set, he headed off in the direction where he hoped he’d find you unharmed and only held prisoner.
Of course, hope was all he had. If the bar dog was right, your captives were dangerous, and not intelligent enough to understand the importance of your safety—if it really was a ransom they were after. There was no guarantee that they’d fed you, or kept you warm when the temperatures dropped at night, or showed you any sort of decency.
Leon’s grip on the reins tightened. His teeth ground into each other with a force that mirrored his beating heart, sending red-hot rage and adrenaline to every muscle.
In his mind, he could see their striped prison jumpsuits splattered with blood as he pinned them down in the dusty dirt with his thighs, one arm firmly fisting their shirt collars or holding them in place by the throat, the other winding up for another fist to the nose, and another, and another, until there was no possibility of them getting up. No possibility of them laying another hand on you, of getting to look at you, of even thinking of you. They didn’t deserve it. They didn’t deserve your presence even in their minds.
He exhaled deeply through his nose as if to clear the thought. It was, of course, a ridiculous hero fantasy. They probably didn’t even wear the striped jumpsuits in prisons, they probably weren’t fed enough rations to be particularly threatening, and they certainly wouldn’t be trying anything with you again, even if he didn’t beat them to a pulp in his distress-fueled haze. Lands sakes, you’d hate him if you saw that. You’d fear him, and you’d be right to. He wouldn’t blame you, and he’d disappear from your life entirely after that, if it’s what you wanted.
No, Leon would stick to his gun, literally, and for your sake, he hopefully wouldn’t have to use it. Hopefully.
He hadn’t been riding for too terribly long, but the travel was much quicker on horseback. Eventually, at the sight of a small, distant glow, Leon sank his weight into the saddle and guided the horse ever so slightly to the right, veering off course as it slowed to a stop. He was glad his clothes were rather dark anyway, so he wouldn’t be spotted too well in the moon- and starlight. He could barely make out the flickering of a small fire and a few fuzzy figures gathered around.
“Well I’ll be damned,” he murmured to himself, “they really are a bunch of flats.” His hand found the six-gun at his side in anticipation. He couldn’t be certain that these were your captors, but judging by the way his heart was practically leaping out of his chest in that direction, like it would be closer to you over there, he had to take his chances and investigate.
He dismounted and led the horse a few feet to where he took the rope he’d brought and tied it loose and carefully to a small tree. “Don’t go nowhere, Requiem.” Odd name for a horse, he always thought, but no name given by a Bible-thumper could discount the trust he’d built with it over his tenure with the owners. His lip curled in amusement at his command to a horse that couldn’t understand him nor disobey even if it tried. With a pat between Requiem’s ears, he turned and stalked in the direction of the faint light of fire.
Leon had only his essentials; stowed away Bowie knife, holstered six-shooter, alert body and mind. He kept quiet and low in the dry grasses and shrubbery to sneak up, but the closer he got, the more hooting and hollering he could hear. They weren’t trying to be quiet or invisible at all, which definitely explained why they weren’t.
Several yards from the makeshift camp, Leon peered over a clump of wild bushes to get an idea of what he was up against. He could see the fire, small and dying out slowly but surely, unless someone got to tending it. There were two men sitting around it, ill-dressed like they’d been in a hurry and short on options. They were thin and unkempt—not really the “brawns” the bartender had spoken of—but lively, surely calaboose escapees enjoying their first taste of freedom in the open West. They each had a bottle of some pilfered firewater or other, and they’d been at it for some time judging by the considerable amount already gone.
Some piled junk sat behind them, probably also dishonestly acquired. The scene was a damn mess and barely even troublesome; even if the lags were packing iron, they were surely too roostered to land a fatal hit on him. Leon wasn’t one to toot his own horn, but he knew his worth; these guys were no match for him.
Then his eyes landed on you; you sat alone, further from the fire and back against the disorganized haul. You shivered almost imperceptibly in the dry night breeze. Sure enough, you were still dressed the same as the last he’d seen of you, though the garments were certainly worse for wear; dust and dirt clung to the fabric, which was fraying at the edges in some spots. Like you’d been roughed up a bit and your clothes, not built for the adventures—if you could call them that—of the great wild out-there, were struggling to stay in the loving perfection that your mother had hand-made. Some of the sleeve fabric was missing, torn off and peaking out from within your boot. You must’ve had some injury you’d tried to wrap. Leon’s heart squeezed.
You kept your knees tucked close to your chest and gazed off across the land. You paid your captors no mind, your face devastatingly calm and unbothered. Hopeless. His stomach twisted, wondering if you were looking out for rescue—looking for him. He wanted nothing more than for that head to be filled with thoughts of him. Well, except for your comfort and safety. He reckoned he wanted that more at the moment. He wanted it a hell of a lot more.
He was surprised that you weren’t tied up or closely watched. You hugged your legs close, hands rubbing up and down the opposite arms to rustle up some warmth and comfort. He supposed your false freedom was because the bandits were armed and you weren’t, not to mention that foot injury you could be sporting; it would certainly make a solo escape difficult.
Though his instincts urged him forward, to grab you and make a hasty escape, his mind kept him planted behind the brush. He observed the drunks. The one further away seemed to have a better grip on his faculties, whereas the one closer was plum silly. Both could probably focus their attention and dexterity, at least enough to get in the way, if Leon made his presence known, so it would be better to get the jump on them. Leaving them be, unfortunately, didn’t feel like an option.
With the utmost care, taking another long, dreamy look at you, Leon reached into his holster and pulled out his revolver, positioning it to where he could aim through a gap in the shrubbery before him. Your captors let out roaring laughter at something one of them had said and Leon took the opportunity to mask the click of him cocking the hammer. He kept the barrel trained squarely on the one further away; he was entirely facing Leon’s direction, so it was a small mercy that he was so distracted. With a smooth pull of the trigger, he fired, landing the bullet straight into the heart.
You jolted and damn near toppled over at the deafening crack, the remaining captor dropping to lie flat on the ground and roll over in the dust a moment before rising to his feet with little coordination, swaying as he gripped his own revolver in his hands. He spun wildly, pointing the barrel everywhere he looked, but especially in Leon’s direction. He could tell roughly where the shot had come from, at least.
“Alright, ya goney! Ya gone coon! Show yer sorry ass!” He hollered, voice wavering under the shock and alcohol. He cocked his own hammer and pointed the six-shooter at you. Leon’s every muscle tensed, heart stopping. “Better not hang fire or I’ll bed this ‘un down before ya even know what hit ‘em!”
Leon leapt to his feet, standing tall and fearless on the outside despite his pounding heart within. He cocked again on his way up, his own barrel steady on the captor’s head.
“I wouldn’t try anything reckless. That dog won’t hunt.”
“Leon,” you breathed through a sigh of relief. His eyes flickered to you momentarily, the hard line of his pursed lips softening into a subtle smile before his jaw was set again, focus entirely pinned on the man pointing his revolver at you. He could give you all the attention and reassurance you wanted—needed—when you were safe and headed home.
“Yeah? What’re ya suggesting?” Leon’s lip curled. The mush-head had fallen right into his trap; his attention had been redirected and his shooting arm drooped lazily. Leon pulled and the drunk slumped back to the ground, head lolling weakly on his neck and steadily spilling blood onto the dusty ground below. You winced at the sound of the shot, curling further into yourself, but when you realized you were still alive and unharmed, you laughed shakily, a relieved toothy grin beginning to pull at the corners of your lips.
He’d meant to negotiate. Leon didn’t enjoy taking lives; he much preferred saving them. He didn’t know those men. They could’ve been innocents for all he knew, and he’d knocked them both into a cocked hat like they had it coming. His still thundering heart seemed to think so; there was no way they’d been law-abiding folk, no way they’d meant you anything but harm, especially with the way the second one had jumped to point the gun at you. No, he’d done a good thing, or at least the best for the situation, he figured.
Leon spun his weapon in his hand before he deposited it in his holster. It was a flashy and pointless gesture, but he just took down the two outlaws that had been giving you trouble with no sweat, and you’d gotten to witness it all; he was feeling good—great, even—and there was nothing to lose by showing off for you a little more.
He dropped to his knee at your side. His strong hands came to rest gently on your upper arms, holding you as if to reassure the both of you that it was real, that the threat was gone. His eyes scanned over you before settling on your own.
“You stood me up today,” he chuckled, breaking the tension. You poked the brim of his hat, tipping it askew. He frowned, but the expression held no real disdain.
“Well, I was waiting for a brave cowboy to come rescue me.” Leon straightened his hat and flushed, thankful that the fire was behind him and the night dark enough that you couldn’t tell. God, he wanted to kiss you. He would’ve, maybe if the situation were further away in distance and in time. If you weren’t still quaking slightly and hunched against a dusty, tarnished case of who knows what. If the moment were right for a proper confession of just how soft down on you he really was.
“Guess I’m your huckleberry,” he settled on. One hand drifted from your arm, down to your hand to grasp it firmly yet gingerly and lift you up to your feet. He shifted his weight back, ready to rise.
That is, until he heard the clicking of another hammer being pulled. Leon’s head spun; you were most definitely unarmed and there had only been two lags at the fire, their bodies still laid unmoving and their annexed clothes steadily reddening to the left of him. He must have miscalculated. His right hand flew to his holster, not yet removing the revolver but lying in wait. He angled his head up and got an eyeful of bad news.
Towering behind you was a burly, bearded man in dark leather. He was a real menace; his face was scarred and smudged with dark gunpowder. His hat was tipped low, brim almost obscuring his fervid eyes. His clothes were just shy of practical, somewhere almost closer to flashy, and his spurs, useless to a horseless owl hoot like himself, were decorated with ornate engravings that shone in the firelight. Leon knew immediately that he hadn’t earned them; he’d stolen them as a prize, a trophy of having slatted a respectable cowboy. His large fist was enclosed around his six-shooter, barrel pressed to the upper side of your skull.
Your neck craned, trying to pull away from the contact, but there was nowhere you could go, especially if you didn’t want him to fire. Your eyes screwed shut, lip wobbling despite your efforts to appear still and anything short of terrified. In your joy at seeing your savior you’d forgotten that the worst wasn’t over yet. Leon ground his teeth.
“Let’s not beat the devil around the stump,” the outlaw drawled roughly. “This ‘un’s worth a hefty sum, I’d say. You want ‘em still kickin’? Better post the pony.” The stress lines on your forehead deepened. You opened your eyes, wide and hopeful, silently pleading with Leon. He pursed his lips and looked away, fingers digging helplessly into your flesh.
“Ain’t got scuds on me.” A hushed, choked sob escaped your throat. Clearly, there was something about this man that scared you, much more than the others. This one had his grubby hands wrapped unyieldingly around your heart, keeping out the lightness of the world. Leon needed to be careful and play his cards right.
“Better scurry on back to town, then, and bring somebody who’s got some, ‘less you want this ‘un gone up the flume.”
“I wouldn’t point your plow handle there. Damaged goods don’t sell for much.” The outlaw snarled with an oddly casual lilt. He did lower his gun, but only to then redirect it toward Leon’s head instead. You would have sighed in relief if it hadn’t been one worst case scenario swapped for another.
“Shut yer cock holster.” Apparently, he could appreciate Leon’s humor but not let him get away with it. Leon shrugged. His hands rose into the air and he stood slowly, stepping back and watching the scene before him closely. He needed to appear like he was going to comply, like he was going back to town to bring a pretty penny for your safety. The outlaw’s stained, crooked teeth revealed themselves in a dark but pleased smile. Leon bit his tongue to keep in a clever taunt.
Then he leapt into action.
In the blink of an eye his hand had found his revolver again and he raised it, pulled the hammer, and ducked to a squat to avoid taking a hit while he fired at the leg of the owl hoot.
“Out of the way! Cut stick!” He yelled at you. You clambered away, sneaking around the junk pile and toward the remaining embers of the fire to avoid the scuffle.
The outlaw howled and buckled upon the bullet lodging itself just below his knee. He fired at Leon in return, and would’ve taken out his shoulder if the cowboy hadn’t barrel rolled out of the way. He pulled and shot again, closer this time; he sat crouched near the feet of the hulking figure. He, too, pulled and spun wildly on his good leg to locate Leon, whose dark vestments proved more useful than he thought in a dark night shootout.
He was able to dodge Leon’s shot by swaying luckily out of the way, the bullet whizzing loudly past his ear and grazing his hat, but things were getting too close for comfort; Leon was down to two rounds, the outlaw four. He hadn’t remembered to bring anything to reload; everything was in his yannigan bag with Requiem.
A shot landed in the dirt just to the left of Leon. He pulled himself up to a lunge and pushed off, looping back around the bushes he’d hidden behind previously to come back to a strong stance a couple of yards in front of the outlaw.
“Ready to cash in?” Leon jeered. He cocked and part of him wished he had a double action instead, but there was no use in thinking about it then and there. The longrider barked a laugh, pain lacing his breaths. He wasn’t too bad at maintaining his fearsome dominance in the face of a challenge.
“Guess we’ll see how the cat jumps.” He fired, Leon spinning out of the way and firing back. The longrider had the upper hand now; Leon missed and was down to his last shot. He glanced around frantically; he still had his Bowie knife to fall back on, but this wasn’t much of a close encounter, so it wouldn’t be a smart move to wholly rely on it. The dead meat still had their guns on them but they were too far to reach.
Leon let the owl hoot take another shot at him and miss before solidifying himself into an infallible stance. He cocked and raised his six-shooter, aiming for the smug, devilish grin before him.
“You wanna dish? You’d better be ready to get served.”
His arm was steady, his target perfectly aligned with his aim. In a swift, smooth motion, he pulled the trigger to fire his last shot not even a second before a bullet whipped past him, just shy of his neck. Leon faltered, heart rate surging traitorously. His grip unsteadied just enough that he lost his flawless aim, the bullet flying to lodge somewhere in the outlaw’s gut. It was better than nothing, but it didn’t save his skin. Maybe now he could get up close and personal with his knife. Maybe.
He didn’t have to, though, because another shot spiked the outlaw’s arm from the side, causing a brief distraction for Leon to duck behind the shrubbery, holster his shooting iron, and watch as a few moments and a click later, his heart, too, was pierced—almost dead-on.
Leon watched, jaw agape, as the fearsome longrider staggered and dropped to the ground in a pile that squelched mutely when the blood-soaked fabrics of his clothes were pinched between lifeless limbs. Leon’s head whipped to the left, where he saw you.
Your hair was wild and there was gunpowder smudged along your jaw, but you were laying in the dust beside one of the dead bandits, chest-down and propped up on your elbows, gripping his plow handle in your hands. You breathed heavily, a wild shine in your eyes.
“Shit,” Leon gasped. “Didn’t know you were such a good shot.” You dropped the canister like it burned. The back of your hand swiped across your clammy forehead, smoothing away any flyaway hairs. Leon felt his every muscle relax and he sagged into the ground, finally taking a good, long inhale. He righted his hat, it having been jostled out of place in all the hubbub.
“Luck of the draw,” you chuckled breathlessly, rolling onto your back and staring up at the stars above. Leon rose to his feet and approached, taking in the sight of you.
Despite the dirt and slight scrappiness of your clothes, despite the lingering thunder of fear and adrenaline coursing through you, despite your ankle that had taken a licking, despite the tears building in your eyes, Leon thought you were the sweetest sight he’d ever laid eyes on.
He crouched beside you, taking your hand in his. “Any other sonkeys around here you need to tell me about?” You shook your head. Your lips wobbled. The intensity and danger you’d just been through must’ve been catching up to you.
“You came to get me.”
“Sure did.” He couldn’t help but grin at your soft tone. “Town ain’t the same without you.” He rose to his feet, waving for you to take his other hand too so he could pull you up. Once you steadied yourself, you sniffled, wiped your face, and shot him a look.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to make a mash on me.” His touch ghosted over your back, twitching slightly. He met your gaze, moonlight catching the blues of his eyes in the dead of the night. Nerves be damned, if there was a time to tell you how he felt, this seemed to it, with the way you were setting him up.
“And what if I am?” He hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten until he felt your breath catch and briefly halt its fanning across his lips. His brain short-circuited. You smiled, leaning back into his touch. He guided you closer on instinct.
“Then I think,” you started, trailing your fingertips over his cheeks and jaw, “you should come find me tomorrow and ask all official-like to wait on me.” He sank his head into your hands. You were teasing him. After all he’d done to rescue you, he couldn’t get a straightforward swoon out of you.
“Same place?”
“Same as always. I’ll be there this time.” The soft, reverent way you touched Leon after he’d killed two men—and hell, you’d killed one yourself—melted his heart. You didn’t give a continental what he’d done, you cared about him. There was no need to hold back anymore; if his hands or lips itched to touch you, why should he fight it? He didn’t need to worry, not when you looked at him like he was the stars in the sky. Maybe you’d always looked at him like that. Maybe he’d been too blind to see it. He angled his mouth into your palm, pecking the center.
“Gotta get you home first. Folks’ll be plum glad to have you back safe.” You looked around, brow furrowing in uncertainty.
“What about all this mess? Bunko artist over there”—you gestured to the limp, paling longrider further away—”had a whole lot of shit that ain’t his. Didn’t even earn those nice rib wrenches,” you added quieter, and Leon felt his heart hum with the knowledge that you’d remembered what he’d told you about spurs and cowboy ranks once when he’d been talking about anything and everything just to keep you around a little longer. “They’d look better on you.”
His lips pursed and his head shook. “I couldn’t.” You shrugged.
“I’d say you earned them, but what do I know?” You huffed and raked your eyes over the junk pile. “Guess we’ll just let the sheriff know a bunch of outlaws are out here dead as doornails and surrounded by their loot?”
Leon stilled. He silently prayed that these outlaws had been wanted—alive or dead—because he hadn’t thought about consequences when he’d shot them, and he certainly hadn’t consulted anybody, much less the sheriff, before setting out to retrieve you. He was a charmer when he wanted to be, though. He figured he could come up with something, or at the very least talk his way out of it if push came to shove.
“Guess so.” Like earlier, his hands came to rest on your arms, tenderly rubbing up and down. His eyes took on an intense sharpness, scanning over your form. “Are you alright?” He asked, voice serious with utter sincerity. You sucked in a deep breath.
“Yeah. Yeah, I am. My ears are ringing and I screwed up my ankle a little trying to run yesterday, but it’s no trouble. I keep most of my weight off it.” Leon’s expression didn’t waver. You exhaled and continued, “Well, they didn’t feed me much and I didn’t exactly get good shut eye, and I’ll be honest, I was scared shitless, but tomorrow morning I’ll be right as rain. Promise.”
Leon sighed, seemingly satisfied and sufficiently soothed by your vow. Then, without warning, he dropped to scoop you up and hoist you over his shoulder.
“Leon, what the dickens?”
“Long walk to the hoss,” he replied simply. As though it were obvious, the only logical option, to carry you. You would argue, but you were tired and more than ready to be back home with good food and a warm bed, so you let him have his way, sinking into his grounding hold.
His arm stayed warm and heavy over your back, feeling for the rise and fall of your breaths and the familiar sensation of your clothes against his palm. He couldn’t ignore the ache in his chest at having you so close. There wasn’t any closeness that would satisfy him, he figured, like he needed to live in your skin to always be near. He supposed he’d have to settle, though. Having you tossed over his shoulder, clinging to the back of his shirt and slumping calmly into him was pretty damn heavenly.
He lowered you softly once he reached the tree where he’d left Requiem. The horse stomped its hooves in place as he untied the rope, ready to be off and get back to the stable. Returning to your side, Leon hesitated. He looked into your eyes and tried to make out your expression in the dark. You felt your face warm under his scrutiny.
“What?” Leon let a small smile creep its way to his mouth.
“What do you mean, ‘what?’ Pretty things are for lookin’ at.” If his attention had flustered you, his comment had you swooning. You averted your gaze. “Gonna lift you up now,” he warned. Then, he did just as he said, seating you before hopping on himself. He took the reins in his hands and you wrapped yours around his middle, laying your head between his shoulder blades. “Get comfortable. The ride’s not too long, but you need the shut-eye.” You hummed in response, trying to nod but nuzzling him instead.
He guided the horse to turn around, scanning for landmarks to lead him back as it trotted along. The sky was starting to lighten just a touch, orange streaking along the horizon and dragging into the lighter blue that was spreading by the minute. The events all seemed to hit him at once; the long day, the agitating evening before setting out for the longer night, all to culminate in this moment; watching the sun rise in the distance while you held on tight. He hoped you couldn’t feel his heart beating so strongly, but he figured you could. Then again, hope had served him well thus far. Wouldn’t be too bad to lean on it again now and then.
Accelerating Requiem once he found his path, Leon relaxed his mind. Your fingers tightened in his shirt, hugging his waist snugly. He craned his neck to look over his shoulder. You ducked quickly; you’d been watching him, it seemed.
“You know I—I really am sweet on you,” he murmured. He’d been soft around you many times before, but he’d never felt so bared, so open and exposed. He swallowed. “I mean it with my whole heart.” You smiled into his back.
“I ain’t giving you the mitten tomorrow, if that’s what you’re worried about.” His laugh was airy, whispering through his teeth.
“I ain’t worried about a thing. Not anymore.” A pleasant shiver ran down his spine when he felt your lips on the back of his neck. They were gone as quickly as they’d brushed the exposed skin just above his kerchief, but the sensation lingered. His mouth twisted in an uncontainable smile. Not even the birds singing in the trees could drum up a sweeter tune than the one his heart beat to whenever you were near. You had that magical sort of effect on him, and it was multiplied tenfold by the sugar you were giving him.
The sun kept rising, casting its rays across the vegetation and landforms of the great outdoors. A new day was dawning, not just on earth, but in Leon’s life; he was stepping into the future with you at his side. His mind drifted back to the bar dog who’d told him of your disappearance just yesterday afternoon; he’d gotten his sweetheart back. He’d gotten you back, and he didn’t care a continental what the world had in store to throw at him. He wasn't letting you go without a fight.
even though he doesn't say anything when you do it, leon loves when you'll just come over to him on the couch or in his office and sit on his lap. he talks to you just the same as if youre standing there, as if it's the most casual thing in the world. his hand squeezing your thigh once you're settled and staying there. he'll just continue doing whatever he was before, even if it's a little tougher now with you on him. the challenge is well worth the reward. just the fact that he accepts your presence in whatever way you want to give it to him is enough to know how much he loves it. the way his arm automatically lifts for you when you come within a foot of him, the kiss he leaves on your shoulder. the small smile on his lips and the way he pulls you just a little closer is far more descriptive than any words could say.
Hi!! I love your writing! I feel like Leon missing the birth of his first child due to his missions is very real and would like to request a short angsty and/or fluffy fic of that if you have time? <3 perhaps a younger Leon between RE4 and RE6ish?
thanks so much! this is such a good idea, i totally agree that it would be a thing. i reaallly leaned into the fluff with this one. hope you like it :)
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
f!reader x post-re4!leon
cw: pregnancy, birth mentioned (non-graphic)
The fourth day was always the hardest. The body began incessantly seeking food, water. Any adrenaline present in the days prior was exhausted; the lack of proper sleep an ache that only continued to grow against the need to keep moving.
It didn’t help that you were all he could think about. Nearly 37 weeks pregnant, sore, tired, struggling to do much of anything in your third trimester. Usually independent to a fault, you relied on him for so much more now—much to your annoyance—but he’d taken it in stride. Enjoyed it, even. And work had been miraculously slow, allowing him more time with you, to help, to bask in preparing for something other than his own potential demise for once.
Until now.
There was no apology for the interruption to his life—there never was. A simple call, vague instructions borne from even more ambiguous intel, and he was pulled from you when you needed him most.
It’s this thought that has him swiping a hand over his face as he leans against the cracked concrete of the wall behind him. The hall, so quiet that it echoes with his heavy breathing, is deserted, shafts of moonlight casting an inconsistent glow through the wide breaks in the ceiling. A place to rest, recollect, then move on.
He brings his canteen to his lips, sipping, conserving the last of what’s left until god knows when he’ll find more.
The sudden crackle of his earpiece clangs through him in the silence, communication having been so spotty the last few days that he’d grown too used to his own thoughts for company.
“Leon?” The voice on the other end is so sweetly familiar that he sighs, eyes closed, head falling back against the wall.
“Hunnigan. Finally.”
“Are you ok?”
“The usual. Nothin’ new.”
“Thank god. Sorry, we’ve been working hard on the comm failures. It’s been chaos here.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
Silence stretches. So long that he nearly breaks it, not ready for another extended blackout, before there’s another burst of static.
“Leon, something’s happened.”
Rarely, if at all, did he panic—any reaction not calculated or practiced hammered out of him by years of intense training and experience. But it sears through him now at Hunnigan’s barely restrained urgency, settling a tight fist in his gut.
“Tell me.” It comes out harsher than intended, and Hunnigan, despite herself, falters.
“We’ve been trying to reach you, but the blackouts—“
“Don’t. Just—please.”
A pause, loaded, then: “Your wife was taken to the hospital yesterday. Premature labor. Updates are… infrequent, but we’re trying. The latest is that she’s stable and progressing.”
Sick. He was going to be sick. His canteen skids where he discards it, head in his hands, fingers snagging as he pushes them backward through his hair. The rare urge to scream, to rip at the concrete beneath him, forces a deep exhale through his nose. Another.
Hunnigan eventually speaks through his distressed quiet. “I’m sorry.”
He knew that the apology wasn’t solely for the situation, but also the truth of it: he couldn’t leave. Extraction now could take days. The mission was too important, there was too much at stake. Fighting it, as much as the desire to do so was tearing through every inch of him, would do nothing if not delay him even further.
Helplessness takes hold. Then resignation, determination.
“Can you have a team ready even if we go dark again? I’m getting this done.”
Her response is soft but sure. “I’ll do everything I can.”
—
Two days. You labored alone, nurses and midwives your only support, their check-ins infrequent enough that they didn’t count for much at all.
You thought of him through the pain. Imagined it was his hand on your back, his voice in your ear as you groaned, screamed, and fought through the marathon that was bringing life into the world.
And at the end of it all, the warm, small thing placed on your chest, declaring herself as yours, as his—the curve of your brow, his soft, full lips. Perfection in its purest form, meant to be witnessed in tandem but instead held by you alone.
They kept you both for observation. She was early, but only just, so she remained with you, this tiny reminder of him. She was a comfort while you waited, hoped, to hear any word of how he was doing.
When the door opens on your third day in hospital, you don’t even look up from where your daughter rests on your chest, expecting, as it had been each day, another nurse performing their daily rounds.
In absence of the familiar greeting, though, your eyes flit to the door.
Leon stands beside the curtain, bandaged on one arm beneath his black t-shirt, but whole. Alive. And looking uncharacteristically unsure, awe and apology warring on his face.
Tears, quick and heavy, spill down now familiar tracks on your cheeks, and you shake with the suddenness of your shock.
Then he’s there, carefully folding you into him while mindful of what you hold, your face buried into the crook of his neck, his head leaning against yours. You grip the back of his shirt, one hand on the bundle in your arms.
“I’m so sorry,” he exhales into your ear, holding fast as a quiet sob chokes out of you.
He pulls back just enough to cup your cheek in his palm, thumb banishing the tears there in a gentle stroke. “I am so sorry.”
The profound grief so plainly contorting his features threatens to rip your heart from your chest.
Nodding, you bring your hand to rest atop his, unable to voice everything you’d endured, felt, and thought the last few days in the breath of a single moment. Instead, you smile, slight, running your thumb over his knuckles. “I know.”
He looks inclined to say more, but his eyes, soft where they take you in, trail down at the light, noisy breathing from your chest as if dragged by an invisible, all-encompassing force he’d only just realized.
You fight to contain yourself as his expression changes, awestruck, almost afraid.
“Want to hold her?”
The barest of smiles tugs at the corners of his lips, and his eyes don’t leave her as he nods, accepting the tiny, swaddled bundle when you move to place her into his arms.
He stands then, one hand supporting her neck, the other supporting her bottom as he lifts her face closer to his, like he needs to take in every bit of her.
You feel a renewed prickle at the corners of your eyes and you blink, unable to help your light laugh as you watch them, witnessing in real time what you’d been imagining for the last three days.
His eyes are glassy, silver rimming his lower lids as he chokes out, “God, she’s beautiful.”
Then, gaze to you: “That’s all you.”
You laugh again, overwhelmed, ecstatic. “I disagree. She’s so your child.”
The grin that splits his lips is one you’ll remember as the brightest you’ve seen from him. It morphs into something softer as he brings her head to rest on his shoulder, his chin dipping to lightly touch it.
And when she nestles closer, her comfort plain, Leon looks to you again, that silent apology returning.
“I never would’ve let them send me if I knew.”
You incline your head, tired, resigned. An argument, if there was one, for another time. “It’s the life I chose, Leon. We knew the risks. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”
He shakes his head, unconvinced, but says no more, beginning a tentative tap against your daughter’s back and murmuring quietly to her as she stirs, then settles into him.
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