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Leon Kennedy x male reader
Summary: The virus is in Leonâs blood and a temporary stabilizer youâve found in the ARK keeps the worst of it at bay. There are, however, some side effects that the lab notes never mentioned and when his eyes lock onto you in the dark, itâs clear the infection left him with a new kind of hunger.
Tags: No use of Y/N. Male reader. Badass Leon with his hatch. Overprotectiveness. Power imbalance. Age gap. Older man/younger man. Manhandling. Infected Leon. Top Leon Kennedy. Bottom male reader. Desperate Leon. Size difference (heâs big). Breeding. Blowjob. Anal sex.
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Words count: 7500
The interior of the ARK facility had a kind of wrong purity to it, surgical white from every surface reflecting the sterile glow of overhead luminars recessed into the ceiling panels, light diffused through frosted glass so evenly.
It made the proof of violence impossible to hide with the blood that looked almost black against all that white.
Streaking along the corridor walls in long hand-shaped smears where someone had tried to drag themselves away from whatever caught them, speckled the floor tiles in radial bursts, dried flakes scattered.
A shattered data tablet lay near the wall, its glass fractured in a spiderweb pattern, one corner still blinking a dying red notification light.
You moved through it carefully, boots whispering across the polished floor, stepping around a toppled medical cart whose stainless trays had spilled syringes and sealed vials across the ground.
Everywhere there was now white ruined by the evidence that something had gone catastrophically wrong.
A smear of viscous dark fluid ran down one laboratory door where something with claws had dragged itself through it, another corridor bore deep gouges carved into reinforced composite panels.
Ahead of you, Leon walked point, broad frame filling the corridor, tactical boots stepping with instinctive precision. The matte black of his combat suit contrasted brutally with the sterile brightness of the facility, reinforced panels hugging the powerful shape of his shoulders and arms.
Still putting himself between you and whatever nightmare waited around the next corner.
He slowed before a cough tore out of him and Leon staggered one step before catching himself against the wall, a heavy palm slamming into the pristine white surface hard enough to leave a faint smear of blood where his glove brushed it, shoulders hunching as another cough wracked his chest, deeper and harsher now.
Immediately at his side, your hands caught his arms before he could push you away.
Beneath the fabric of his suit the muscles there were still enormous, dense with strength even now but the tension in them was strain, his body fighting itself.
âLeonââ
âIâm fine,â he muttered hoarsely, voice roughened by the cough.
âYeah, you look fantastic.â You muttered flatly, sarcasm slipping out automatically with how much time you spent with him, dry and sharp.
Leonâs familiar ash-blond hair hangs long on the side of his face, brushing his jaw in uneven layers that look less styled and more chaotic, strands clinging to his temple. It falls forward when he tilts his head, shadowing eyes that arenât the bright rookie blue from Raccoon City you were once told anymore but something colder and dulled by years of guilt and gunfire.
The lighting hits him from above and slightly behind, carving his face into hard planes, emphasizing the deepening lines at the corners of his mouth and the faint creases at his brow.
Thereâs stubble along his jaw on top of skin smeared with dirt and dried blood.
Heâs not just tired but worn thin, brows knitted in when something hits him emotionally rather than physically.
Thereâs a quiet pain in his eyes, shoulders rounded just a fraction, posture not defeated but heavy.
The tactical suit clings to him in all the right ways, black and matte with reinforced panels over those broad shoulders and large arms. Itâs scuffed and scratched near the forearm, fabric pulled tight over muscle thatâs still very much there despite the exhaustion.
Thereâs dried blood crusted near his wrist, not fresh enough to glisten, just dark and stubborn.
Along his forearm veins stand out first, too dark and thick, branching in unnatural patterns beneath the surface as if ink has been injected and left to spread. They spiderweb from his wrist upward, splitting and rejoining in jagged paths that donât follow normal anatomy. The flesh around them looks inflamed, faintly swollen, mottled in bruised shades of violet and sickly gray-green.
Parts of his arm look rougher, subtly ridged, like scar tissue layered over itself, while other areas appear unnervingly smooth, waxy, as if the infection has polished the skin into something artificial. The grime and dried blood only make it worse, caught in the shallow grooves, emphasizing how uneven the surface has become.
When he flexes his fingers, the tendons shift beneath that corrupted patterning and for a second it feels like the veins move a beat too late, pulsing on their own rhythm rather than his heartbeat.
The side of his face is even more striking.
It creeps up from his jaw toward his cheekbone, discoloration there not just in bruises but almost charred at the edges, dark veins branching toward his temple. The skin pulls slightly tight along his cheek as if the infection is constricting it, giving that side of his face a faintly hollowed look.
There are faint fissure-like lines tracing through the infected area and the lighting catches those lines, turning them into pale streaks against the darker corruption, making the whole thing look almost crystalline in places, something mineral forming beneath his flesh.
The sclera of his eye isnât fully overtaken, but slightly bloodshot, faint capillaries more visible, giving him a fevered intensity less human and more predatory.
âCome on.â Pulling his arm over your shoulder.
âI said Iâmââ
âYou cough blood again and Iâm duct-taping you to the wall,â you muttered. âMove.â
He sighed but you felt the little more weight leaning into you than he technically needed along the slow exhale that left his chest afterward.
Together you pushed forward through the corridor until the lab entrance appeared ahead.
A sterilization chamber separated the hallway from the main research wing, a transparent passage framed by thick sealed doors. As soon as you stepped inside, the system activated with a mechanical chime that somehow still worked despite how many years itâs been there inactive.
Rows of recessed nozzles extended from the walls and ceiling before cold mist blasted downward, causing you to flinch hard as disinfectant sprayed across your shoulders and face, the sudden hiss echoing through the chamber.
Leon let out a tired chuckle, head dipping forward slightly as he muttered, voice gravelly with exhaustion.
âNice to see maintenance is still on schedule.â
âShut up,â you mumbled.
He chuckled again but it cut off halfway through when pain twisted through his ribs and forced a grunt from him as you helped him through the chamber.
âYouâre cute,â he murmured quietly, âwhen youâre worried.â
A wet screech stopped any possible remark to leave your throat, echoing from the darkness of the lab ahead.
The lighting beyond the sterilization chamber was different, emergency illumination bathed the interior in deep red, casting long shadows across the rows of overturned equipment and shattered glass.
A creature crawled along the ceiling with horrifying ease, body had once been human but now looked like anatomy stripped down to build the perfect predator. Muscle fibers lay exposed across its torso, crimson tissue stretched taut over a skeletal frame and head split open into a grotesque blossom of bone plates to reveal a glistening brain that pulsed faintly under the red light.
No eyes and a tongue that uncoiled from its throat, impossibly long and slick with saliva, tasting the air as it moved.
Guiding Leon down slowly and carefully, using the shadow of a toppled containment cabinet and the thick bulk of a reinforced analysis terminal as cover.
Leonâs weight leaned heavier into you as you lowered him.
Even weakened he was still solid, the sheer density of his body making the careful descent difficult as your hand remained braced against his shoulder while your other arm helped control his descent so he wouldnât hit the floor too hard.
Another cough hit him, starting deep in his chest before his shoulders jerked violently as the sound ripped up through his throat, one hand flying to brace against the floor as another cough followed immediately after, blood splattering across the white tile.
It looked almost black in the dim red emergency lighting, thick droplets spreading into uneven shapes as they hit the floor. Some of it caught on the edge of his glove where heâd instinctively tried to cover his mouth, crimson staining the fabric along his knuckles before dripping down to the tile below.
âLeonââ crouching immediately in front of him, one hand gripping his shoulder, fingers pressing into the reinforced panels of his shirt while he spat another mouthful of blood onto the floor, breath hitching as he wiped his mouth roughly with the back of his hand.
For a second he simply sat there breathing hard, then he lifted his head.
âJust go,â he rasped, voice scraped down to something rough and gravelly by pain and exhaustion.
âYou shouldnât be here.â
Your grip tightened automatically.
âIâm serious,â he continued, already shifting his weight forward as if preparing to push himself up again. âYouâve seen whatâs in this place.â
He planted one hand on the ground beside him.
âYou stay and youâre just risking your life for nothing.â
His muscles tensed as he tried to rise in a familiar stubborn force.
He barely got halfway up before your hands slammed down onto his shoulders.
âSit.â The pressure you applied wasnât violent and under normal circumstances there was absolutely no way you could have forced Leon S. Kennedy back down like that.
After all, he was stronger and heavier after decades spent fighting things that didnât belong in the natural world.
Right now though the infection had drained too much from him and the moment you pushed, his balance faltered.
He sank back down against the cabinet with a low irritated grumble vibrating in his chest.
âRookieââ
âItâs been one year.â The words left your mouth before he could finish and Leonâs jaw tightened faintly.
Keeping your hands planted on his shoulders, fingers curling slightly against the black shirt as if daring him to try standing again.
âOne year since I got this job,â you continued, voice quieter now but no less firm. âOne year since they assigned me to you.â
His dull blue eyes shifted upward to meet yours, red red emergency lighting painting faint shadows across his face, catching along the sharp lines of his cheekbones and the tired creases at the corners of his mouth.
That infection spreading up the side of his face made the moment even more unsettling, darkened veins branching toward his temple.
âDo you know why I took this job?â you asked, question rhetorical.
He simply watched you and, despite the exhaustion clouding his features, his gaze remained focused and steady. There was something faintly curious in that expression now along with another thing almost reflective.
A small grunt left him meant to push you to keep talking.
Your thumb shifted slightly where it rested against his shoulder.
âI took it because all the people we met that had been ruined by the virus deserve someone trying to help them.â Gaze drifting briefly toward a shattered observation window across the lab. Behind the broken glass the remains of a medical testing chamber were visible, restraint straps hanging loose from a surgical chair that had been torn partially out of the floor.
ââŚthey didnât deserve what happened to them. Had I been here before all of this, I could have saved all of them.â
You looked back at Leon.
âSo right now?â Your grip tightened again. âYouâre my priority.â
He stared at you for a long second, dull blue of his eyes softening just a fraction before the corner of his mouth twitched faintly despite the smear of blood still staining his lips.
âPriority because I plan on keeping you alive long enough to remind you about this for the rest of your life.â Your tone shifted just enough to let the smallest hint of teasing slip through the tension.
Leon blinked slowly. âYou mean the part where you saved my ass?â
âExactly.â You leaned back slightly âImagine how embarrassing thatâs going to be for you to get saved by a rookie.â
His breath left him in a weak huff that might have been a laugh.
âI was just resting my eyes.â Despite everything, the faintest ghost of Leonâs usual dry humor flickered through his voice.
The blood smeared across his mouth shifted when his lips curved into a tired smile.
Your words had stirred a memory of twenty-eight years ago from his young self rookie cop stepping into Raccoon City for his first day on the job with a town already crawling with the dead.
âI want to find out whatâs happening here.âYour voice hardened slightly. âAnd stop whoeverâs behind it.â
For a moment neither of you said anything, then Leon sighed through his nose.
ââŚFine.â His head tipped back against the cabinet. âDo what you want.â
There was a quiet acceptance in his tone now, not surrender exactly but more like the reluctant acknowledgment that he knew stubborn determination when he saw it.
And that right now it looked a lot like the version of himself he used to be.
You rubbed his shoulder once more, the worry in your expression hadnât gone anywhere.
If anything it had deepened.
But you stood up anyway, pistol sliding smoothly into your hand as you turned toward the darker half of the laboratory.
Rows of research stations stretched ahead beneath the pulsing red lights. Broken monitors flickered weakly on some of the consoles, displaying fragments of corrupted data logs and diagnostic readouts. A containment tank near the center of the room had shattered completely, thick biofluid still pooled around its base in a reflective puddle that smelled faintly metallic.
Somewhere out there claws scraped slowly across steel.
âStay here.â
Leon shifted slightly against the cabinet.
âI didnât have anything else in mind,â he muttered dryly.
You gave him a small nod before moving forward, footsteps careful and measured.
Blood pooled in shallow puddles that reflected your light in trembling shards, dragging marks and worse, the soft shapes that your mind tried not to name at first because naming them made them real, slick residual organs crushed into the seams between tiles as if the building had tried to swallow them and failed, pale coils of intestine like wet rope flung across the floor, a torn section of lung tissue stuck to the base of a wall where it had dried into a leathery crescent.
Your gun stayed trained forward, arms locked the way Leon had drilled into you until it became a reflex you didnât have to think about, flashlight in your off hand painting the corridor in stark flashes and every time the beam slid upward you felt your skin tighten, because the ceiling had a Licker up there.
Body pressed flat against the panels, hooked claws embedded into the seams between tiles as they made noises that were less vocal and more mechanical, small wet clicks and throat-scrapes that sounded like someone chewing on a mouthful of knives and every so often a long tongue slid out and tasted the air in a slow searching sweep.
No eyes tracked you, yet you felt watched anyway, because their heads tilted minutely whenever a sound shifted in the environment or a drop of blood fell somewhere far off.
Your ears did half the work your eyes couldnât, parsing the space for the faint scrap of claws relocating, the hallway narrowed toward a junction where the wall panels bore scarring.
There were zombies there, skin pallid to the point of chalk, stretched tight in some areas and sloughing in others, as though the body couldnât decide whether to dry out or melt. White pustules studded their shoulders and necks, swollen nodules intact and glossy with others ruptured into crusted, powdery residue.
Around the jawline and cheekbones, the flesh had gone waxy and beneath it you could see faint branching vessels that had turned a sickly bluish-gray. One of them had pustules clustered along the collarbone and up the side of its throat like a grotesque rash, when it turned its head toward a distant sound the lumps shifted with the movement, heavy and semi-fluid beneath the skin.
The other was worse, patches of its scalp and forehead riddled with those pale growths and one swollen pustule near the temple had split open, leaking a milky, stringy seep that dried in flakes along the side of its face.
They stood in the corridor with slow and uncoordinated sway of corpses still pretending at balance, mouths hanging slack and teeth looking too clean against that white skin, hands flexing in tiny spasms, fingers twitching as if the nerves were firing randomly.
Beyond them, a small medical suitcase, hard-cased, white with a bold green cross on the top. It sat among scattered tools and broken sterile packaging, the corner of it smeared with a thumbprint of blood like someone had grabbed and dropped it while running.
That suitcase might have been a miracle or a trap and you didnât have time to argue with either possibility.
The problem was the zombies were between you and it and the Lickers above were the kind of problem that didnât care about your plans.
Your flashlight beam slid over a side table near you, its surface cluttered with overturned specimen trays and a cluster of empty flasks and reached slowly, fingertips closing around one, feeling the lightness of it. Your body stayed angled so your gun remained forward, muzzle hovering on the corridor line where the zombies stood, because if they moved fast you needed to answer faster.
Taking a careful breath before flicking your wrist and the flask sailed in a short arc to strike the nearer zombie on the side of the face with a sharp crack. Glass burst, shards embedding into dead tissue, one piece sticking at an angle out of its cheek like a grotesque ornament.
The zombie reeled back, head snapping to the side and for a moment it paused.
Mouth opening wider than it should have as it began to lurch forward with sudden purpose.
Above, the Licker reacted instantly and it dropped from the ceiling, landing on all fours and its head snapped toward the zombie, tongue lashing out in a taste-snap, saliva stringing befote it lunged.
Claws tore into the zombieâs torso, shredding through that pallid flesh and the swollen pustules alike, ripping them open so white seep sprayed and mixed with dark blood.
The Licker disassembled it, limbs torn free with sickening ease, one arm flung aside to slap against the wall and slide down leaving a smeared red stripe. The zombieâs head snapped back and then the Lickerâs claws hooked under the jaw and yanked, splitting the neck, corpse collapsing into pieces, twitching reflexively while the Licker kept moving, because it wasnât finished but only redirected.
The second zombie made noise, a wet frustrated moan, shuffling toward the commotion, drawn by instinct more than hunger and the Licker whirled toward it.
Using the moment you became smaller and quieter, slipping along the wall, knees bent, shoulders low, minimizing your profile, keeping your flashlight beam angled downward to avoid painting yourself in light.
The suitcase grew closer and you kept stealing glances back. The Lickerâs claws made their own awful music and you forced your brain to categorize the sound, to decide whether it was staying with the zombies or drifting toward you.
You reached the workstation where the suitcase sat, hands moving with careful speed, pulling it free without letting it scrape. The latches were stiff, but you didnât open it here, not risking the little metallic snap echoing in the hallway but just secured it against your body, grabbed the handle and backed away in the same low careful posture, eyes flicking again toward the corridor behind you where the Licker continued its violence.
By the time you slipped back through the junction and into the safer shadow near Leonâs hiding spot, your heart was pounding so hard you felt it in your throat.
Leon was where you left him, but he looked worse, sitting slumped against the overturned cabinet, head tipped slightly forward, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth in a thin line down his chin, catching on the stubble there.
One gloved hand was braced on the floor as if heâd tried to push himself up and failed.
When you approached, he lifted his head just enough to acknowledge you, eyes half-lidded, dull blue catching the light.
âLet me guess,â he rasped, voice rough and thin, âyou found the gift shop.â
You swallowed the surge of relief that tried to turn into something shaky. âShut up,â you muttered automatically, already dropping to one knee beside him.
Fingers moving over the latch of the suitcase as you flipped it open.
Inside, an injector filled with a solution that glowed faintly even in the red light, a cool and pale teal cast.
Beneath it lay a sheet of paper, edges wrinkled, with smeared bloody handprints on one side where someone had grabbed it in panic and left part of themselves behind. You unfolded it carefully, eyes scanning the text with the urgency of someone reading a bomb manual while the timer ticks.
Umbrella Biochemical Research Division
Internal Memorandum â Experimental Compound Summary
VRS-17 is a peptide-based regulatory compound engineered to attenuate uncontrolled viral replication without inducing full viral suppression. Unlike traditional antivirals that aim to eradicate or neutralize pathogenic agents, VRS-17 functions as a replication modulator, selectively binding to viral polymerase complexes and inhibiting exponential genomic duplication.
In vitro testing indicates that VRS-17 reduces mutation cascade events by approximately 62â74%, effectively preventing aggressive phenotypic restructuring while preserving host-viral equilibrium. Tissue necrosis rates decline significantly under administration, and aberrant cellular hypertrophy is markedly stabilized.
Notably, VRS-17 does not reverse metabolic amplification effects associated with early-stage infection. Elevated ATP production, enhanced muscular fiber density, increased nociceptive thresholds and heightened endocrine activity remain largely intact. Neural integrity and higher cognitive processing are preserved, provided the compound is administered prior to systemic destabilization.
Endocrine monitoring during trials revealed sustained increases in adrenal and gonadal hormone output consistent with infection-stage physiological enhancement. However, aggression-linked limbic overactivation was reduced to manageable thresholds, suggesting that VRS-17 primarily dampens catastrophic neurodegenerative escalation rather than suppressing heightened baseline function.
Subjects under VRS-17 stabilization present with:
⢠Maintained structural morphology
⢠Controlled vascular distortion
⢠Preserved motor coordination
⢠Elevated but regulated metabolic output
The compoundâs efficacy window remains finite, requiring periodic redosing to maintain viral equilibrium. Prolonged absence may result in re-escalation of replication activity.
Further study recommended long-term symbiotic viability in high-resilience hosts.
Your eyes lifted from the paper and saw Leonâs eyes shut, his head had tipped sideways, resting against his shoulder in a posture that looked too much like collapse and not enough like rest.
Line of blood at his mouth had lengthened, a fresh dark droplet sliding down to his chin.
Your heart sank so violently it felt extremely painful.
âLeon,â you whispered, voice suddenly smaller than you meant it to be.
No response.
The fear that surged up flooded you with clarity and terror in equal measure, making your hands move before your mind could finish debating.
Grabbing the injector, tearing open the sterile seal with your teeth and shifted closer to Leon until you could see the subtle pulse at his neck.
You didnât want to do this, not trusting Umbrella or anything in this building.
But you trusted the alternative even less.
Pressing the injector against the side of his neck, under the jawline where the skin was still mostly uninfected, thumb hovering for half a second before you pushed and the needle sank in, depressing the plunger and watching the teal solution disappear into his bloodstream.
For a heartbeat nothing happened and the silence was so loud you thought you might have killed him.
Then a harsh cough jolted through him, shoulders tightening as breath forced its way back into his lungs and you exhaled a breath you hadnât realized youâd been holding, shaky relief flooding your limbs.
His eyes opened slowly, heavy-lidded at first, unfocused, then sharpening as he blinked and tried to understand where he was.
âLeon,â you murmured, leaning closer instinctively, one hand bracing his shoulder again. âHey. Hey, donât move.â
He tried anyway, a stubborn twitch of his body before you pressed him back gently, voice low and urgent.
âTemporary inhibitor,â you whispered quickly, the words tumbling out because you needed him to know you hadnât just injected him with random hope. âItâs supposed to keep it from⌠from getting worse. It doesnât fix it, it just buys time.â
Leonâs mouth twitched faintly as if he wanted to make a comment but before he could, a sound reached you both that made every hair on your arms rise.
Click-click-click.
A slower rhythm now, claws on tile of the Licker approaching.
As if the facility wanted to make sure you understood how unfair it was, you heard another sound layered beneath it, dragging shuffle and wet groan of those white-pustule zombies refusing to stay dead.
The Licker had been attracted right to your direction.
Protect Leon
You moved instantly, rising to your feet with your gun in hand, body slotting between Leon and the monster, flashlight beam painting the floor where blood streaks led like a trail.
A zombie lurched into view first, arms extended and head tilted, mouth opening in a wet gurgle. Its skin was chalk-white, pustules bulging near the jaw and shoulder, and its eyes were filmed over like cloudy marbles.
Gunshot would be the equal of a dinner bell for the licker.
So you surged forward instead, fast and quiet, closing distance before it could fully register your presence and a knife flashed in your hand before it got plunged through the soft tissue under the jaw, forcing it deep, pushing through cartilage and bone with a sickening resistance, sharp end biting into skull until it met the brain.
The zombie shuddered, a full-body spasm that vibrated through your grip, and then it went slack. You let it drop carefully, easing it down to avoid the thud.
Turning too late as the second zombie slammed into you with sudden force, both of its hands crashed onto your shoulders, fingers gripping hard enough to bruise and it drove you backward into the edge of a lab table. The impact knocked the air from your lungs in a sharp hiss and your gun skittered out of your grasp, clattering across the tile and sliding out of reach.
The zombie leaned in, mouth opening wider, teeth snapping inches from your throat as you shoved against its chest, arms trembling under the strain, trying to keep its weight off. It smelled like sour disinfectant mixed with rot, the sterile scent of the facility trapped inside a corpse and curdled.
Your knife was still in the first zombie across the corridor, unreachable without letting this thing get close enough to bite.
Your mind raced in search for leverage or a tool but all you saw were scattered instruments, broken trays along a cracked monitor.
The zombieâs teeth snapped again closer before a wet crunch from an impact that drove deep echoed in your ears.
A hatchet head had buried itself into the side of its neck, sunk in almost to the haft, splitting pale flesh and ruptured pustules, dark blood and milky seep spraying outward in a hot mist. The zombieâs hands loosened reflexively as its body tried to process what it couldnât understand.
Leon was back on his feet.
His posture wasnât perfect, still heavy with exhaustion and marked by the infection crawling along his arm and face, but his grip on the hatchet was solid, forearm muscles standing out beneath the shirt and the dark branching veins along his skin pulsed.
He pressed harder into the wound heâd made, twisting his torso with a brutal controlled motion and the zombieâs head separated from its body in a violent arc.
Blood geysered upward from the open neck attached upward to nothing, a high-pressure spray that spattered the white wall behind, turning the sterile surfaces into a red mural. The head hit the floor with a dull rolling thud, jaw still twitching while the body collapsed.
Leon didnât even look at it, gaze focused solely on your reflection of shock and gratitude that tangled together tightly.
Dark veins branching, discoloration creeping along his cheekbone, fissure-like lines catching the emergency light, but his eyes were clearer than before.
âLeon,â you breathed, confusion thick in your voice. âYou⌠youâreââ
A sound cut you off when the Licker emerged.
It crawled into view low and fast, claws clicking against tile in a staccato rhythm, tongue tasting the air, finding Leon standing between its prey as the tongue shot out, fast enough to blur.
Leonâs hatchet flashed up and the blade met the tongue with a wet chop, severing it mid-lash and causing it to fall on the floor still twitching like a dying snake,
The Licker shrieked in a high sound, rearing back, claws scraping the tile, exposed brain pulsing under the red light.
Leon swung the hatchet down with full-body force and slammed into the exposed brain with a sound like splitting fruit and the Licker collapsed instantly.
Leon hit it again and again, short brutal strikes until the twitching stopped and the creatureâs body became only meat in a puddle of blood.
When the carcass finally lay still, Leon straightened and turned toward you.
Protect Leon
Up close the combination of exhaustion, infection and violence made him look almost inhumanly intense, the red light carving his face into sharp planes, highlighting the darkened veins at his temple and the blood still smeared at his mouth.
He took a step toward you, then another and the shadow of his bulky frame swallowed yours and one of his huge hands shot out and grabbed the front of your vest. The impact shoved you backward, hip hitting the lab table behind hard enough to knock a breath out of your chest.
He raised his hatchet and swung it down fast through fever and adrenaline as the blade slammed into the reinforced polymer surface of the table.
Splinters of laminate cracked outward under the force of the blow, fine white dust puffing up from the point of impact where the hatchet lodged deep.
Leon hunched over you so abruptly and completely that your entire field of vision got filled with his broad chest caging you in, the heat of his body slamming into you like a furnace, breath blasting across your cheek in ragged pulses.
His breathing echoed against your skin fast and heavy with an effort that came from trying to hold something back.
Seconds passed long enough to feel like minutes.
ââŚyou alright?â His ruined and gravelled voice scraped the air between your neck and his mouth.
Barely nodding as an answer, a low humming sound left your throat before you could stop it.
He exhaled sharply like he was trying to calm himself but failing spectacularly.
His head lowered, jaw brushing your cheek before lips touched your neck and every nerve in your body fired at once, vision strobing white for half a heartbeat. Leon inhaled against your skin, animal-like draw of breath and exhaled harder as his lips dragged lower, leaving heat in their wake.
ââŚglad youâre okay.â Voice vibrating directly against your throat.
Both of his hands planted onto the table on each side of your hips, caging you entirely, slotting you between his massive arms, chest pressed into yours, sturdy and burning.
You managed a breathless question âHow are you feeling?â voice embarrassingly unsteady and he answered with a grunt that vibrated through his whole body.
ââŚgood. Better.â Another breath, harsher.
The bulge trapped in your pants pressed directly into the dense shape against the front of his.
Your hips had barely twitched but at the contact Leon hissed through his teeth.
His hips snapped forward involuntary and the size of him slammed against you. Huge even through the fabric, a monstrous outline that dragged against your own through the friction of clothing.
A gasp tore out of your throat and Leon groaned into your neck, on the edge of losing control.
For a man you thought was going to tear you apart in an instant, the attention felt terrifying and absolutely devastating.
ââŚâm sorryâŚâ He leaned in again, lips finding your neck, breath shaking as he whispered into your skin, arms wrapping tighter around your frame. Biceps bulging, veins thick and dark from the late stage of infection, heat radiating off him like a furnace.
âCould be the side effect of whatever the hell I injected in ya.â
Leon scoffed against your neck, body pressed even closer, chest crushing against yours, lips smearing heat across your pulse point.
âSide effects?â His voice went rough ââŚweird. First time Iâve heard of something that makes me wanna fuck you this badly.â
Your cock jerked hard in your pants.
ââŚI could⌠spare some time. Yâknow. After allâŚyouâre only in this state because of me.â
Leon didnât even pretend to think about it.
âThen get on your knees.â His voice dropped to a husky growl right in your ear.
He pushed himself back two steps, enough space for cold air to hit your body where his warmth had been. You hated the loss immediately.
Eyes shining from hunger focused entirely on you.
God, youâd definitely let him devour you.
Dropping to your knees fast enough to feel it, adrenaline made you numb to the sting. Your hands rose to work his zipper, palms warming immediately against the obscene bulge swelling between his colossal thighs and Leon inhaled sharply above, a pleasant, guttural sound rumbling low in his chest.
Big and warm hand sliding to the back of your skull as you freed his cock.
It smacked your lips on its way out, heavy enough that you felt the weight reverberate through your jaw.
Head swollen dark red, leaking already from sheer arousal.
Just the tip alone forced your mouth into an O shape and you barely had time to think before you were taking him into your mouth, tongue flattening and lips stretching wide around the girth that felt impossible.
Leon groaned at your dedicated effort, fingers tightened in your hair while you worked him with your tongue by licking under the shaft, circling the head and swallowing around every forward push of his hips.
He hissed through clenched teeth, hips jerking forward, pushing more of him in while your jaw ached, tongue hot and slick around the heavy weight of him as his cock throbbed against your palate.
Then both his hands took hold of your skull to start fucking your throat, need overriding restraint as each thrust drove further down your throat with the blunt head alone clogging your airways, gag reflex spasming as you choked around him and the vibration of it made Leon snarl softly above.
ââŚthat what you wanted?â
All you could give him back were wet, muffled moans vibrating along his shaft, tears pricking your eyes as he took your throat. Your hands clutched his solid and massive thighs as he built a rhythm that used your mouth like it belonged to him.
âAlways knew you had a thing for meâŚâ Low grunts and harsh exhales poured from his mouth
Shame and desire crashed inside your stomach all at once, heat flooding your face even as your throat tightened around his cock stretching your mouth open.
He groaned again and thrusted deeper, using your throat like it was the only place he could breathe.
Your moans came out strangled around the thick length occupying a place meant only for vital things, saliva dripping down your chin, throat working desperately around him as he drove closer to release.
Possible to tell by the way his thrusts grew sharp uncontrolled.
ââfuckââ a deep grunt followed by a curse, holding onto him tighter, throat relaxing as much as you could just as Leon buried himself to the base, groin trembling against your face as he came, pubs there tickling.
He spilled directly down your throat in heavy pulses that forced you to swallow to keep up, his cock twitching violently against your tongue as he groaned loud, head tipped back, infection-dark veins standing out along his neck.
Swallowing the flood he offered until there was nothing left and his breath shuddered, grip loosening as his hips dragged back, letting his slick cock slide from your throat with a wet sound that made your vision blur with need.
Huge gulps of air shuddering through your aching throat, your lips smeared with the thick greyish-white residue heâd pumped down your throat. Dragging the back of your hand across your mouth, smearing the remaining slick across your lips before looking up at him.
Leonâs chest was still heaving, sweat and blood beading along the cut of his clavicle, infection-black veins standing out like dark lightning across his throat.
He was hard again, hanging heavy and twitching with eager life despite the orgasm you just gave him.
Something starving flickered behind his eyes and a grunt left him.
Before you could react, his hand fisted your hair tighter and he hauled you to your feet like you weighed nothing. A few minutes ago heâd collapsed bleeding on the floor, now his strength had returned.
You stumbled into his chest and he caught you effortlessly, hand framing your jaw, fingers spanning your cheeks, other pair of thumbs dragging through the slick on your face as his mouth crashed into yours.
Lips burning, breath ragging and fever-warm as he forced your lips apart and shoved his tongue into your mouth, ravaging the place to take a taste from the mix of saliva and the residue of his own release still coating your lips. Low grunts in junction with desperate hums spilled down your throat.
Your hands shot up to his broad shoulders, fingers digging into thick muscle, fabric of his tactical shirt stretched tight across them. He pushed you backward with the weight of his whole body, pressing you into the lab table until the edge bit into the backs of your thighs.
His hands were everywhere, one tore down your zipper while the other shoved into your waistband.
Pants yanked hard down your legs and cold air hit your skin.
With a single violent sweep of his arm he cleared the table, glass vials shattering as they hit the floor, computer monitors crashing down in explosions of sparks and broken circuitry. The destruction barely registered over the sound of his breath punching against your mouth as he pulled you up onto the table like a ragdoll, bare ass making contact with the cold lab surface.
Leon stepped forward, slotting himself between your legs in one possessive motion, chest pressed into yours again in full weight, still kissing you starved for your mouth, tongue delving deep, lips crushing yours until you were panting into him.
His hands gripped your thighs and dragged them wider, lifting âem until you wrapped them instinctively around his waist. Fat cock back in presence as it pressed against your hole, teasing you with the heavy weight of the head alone, smearing pre-cum against your skin in thick warm trails.
You gasped into his mouth and Leon swallowed that gasp whole.
He didnât stop kissing you until he pulled back enough to gather the mix of saliva pooling between your lips and his.
He brought two fingers to your mouth.
âSuck.â
Immediately your lips wrapped around them, tongue swirling, own saliva mixing with the remnants of your kiss and when he pulled them free they glistened, pressed quickly against your entrance and slid inside with slow force that made your thighs clamp around his hips.
You dropped your head against his chest right against the hard plane of his pecs and Leon kissed the top of your head.
One finger followed by two.
Thick and calloused units working you deeply, curling at the right spot to make your breath stutter against his shirt.
His other hand braced on your hip, thumb stroking almost tender before he pushed a third finger in to stretch you wide around the brutal size.
âYouâre doing so goodâŚâ he muttered, voice ruined and dark ââŚso tightâfuckâjust let me inâŚâ
When he felt your body starting to loosen and yield to the stretch of his fingers, he pulled them out slowly, slick noises filling the space where emergency lights flickered overhead.
Emptiness unwelcome but soon enough a new candidate made his presence known as the large and slick crown pressed directly to your entrance.
Too big even with the efficient work done to help it in.
Leonâs hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head up so you had no choice but to look at him, infected veins pulsing dark across his cheek and further altering his eyes burning hungrily.
âBreathe,â he whispered, voice low and ragged.
You barely had time before he pushed in, head splitting you open inch by inch, forcing your body to accommodate it, burn deep and overwhelming. Leonâs grip tightened, one hand holding your thigh open, the other braced on the table beside your head as he sank deeper.
Your back arched as a strangled sound tore out of your throat.
âKnew itâknew you were made for meââ He didnât give you time to adjust, snapping his hips forward, burying himself deeper in a single brutal thrust that rattled the table and shoved your body upward with the force.
His hands slid behind your knees and pushed your legs upward, folding you in half beneath him, pressing your thighs to your chest.
It felt like he was stabbing you in the guts repeatedly, position leaving you completely open and helpless beneath the weight of his body as he drove into you with strong and deep thrusts.
Your vision blurred with each impact, Leon braced a hand near your head, the other gripping the underside of your thigh as he fucked you deeper and harsher, his breath hot against your cheek.
His face hovered inches from yours, sweat mixing with blood on his skin.
Yet he kissed you between thrusts.
Broken, panting desperate kisses.
Your own climax hit first, spilling across your stomach and all over the tight black fabric of Leonâs shirt as he kept pounding into your hole. The sight of your release coating him made him snarl and his thrusts grew erratic.
He shoved in deep enough that your breath hitched, grinding his hips forward as his cock throbbed inside you when he came hard.
Hot spurts flooding your insides, filling you until you felt it spill back out around the base of his cock. His grip on your thigh tightened to bruising levels as he emptied himself, chest heaving, face twisted in a mixture of pleasure and infection-driven intensity.
When the last pulse hit, he collapsed forward just enough for his forehead to touch yours.
Leon didnât pull out right away.
He stayed still, breathing like heâd fought a war and barely won while the red emergency lights pulsed faintly against the ruined lab. The sharp, feral hunger on his face slowly softened into something tired and more human.
His hand came up first, cupping the side of your jaw. His thumb brushed along your cheek, almost hesitant.
ââŚHey.â His voice scraped out low.
You opened your eyes, Leonâs were clearer than they had been in hours. Still rimmed with infection, veins dark and branching but present and focused.
âYou with me?â he asked softly.
You nodded and his shoulders dropped on an exhale, not relief exactly, but something close enough that it tugged painfully at your chest.
His forehead pressed gently to yours, the smallest touch, breath mingled with his.
ââŚdidnât hurt you, right?â he murmured.
You shook your head and he closed his eyes for a second, long lashes brushing your skin.
When he opened them again, the determined glint you knew so well had returned.
ââŚwe canât stay here,â he murmured against your skin.
You nodded and be pulled back enough to look at you directly.
âGrace is out there somewhere, we need to save her.â
He glanced down at the mess you both were and a ghost of a smirk softened the exhaustion on his face.
ââŚhell of a timing, huh?â
You let out a shaky laugh as he squeezed your thigh.
okok can i hmm request re9 leon n mechanic!male!reader both in the DOS but R being very against leon taking the vehicles heâs been working on because they always return as a mess, IF they even are returned, n they have a little banter going on, perhaps leon keeps R company while he tries to salvage the car leon just wrecked and leon makes it yp to him with dinner hehe đ
MACHINE HEAD
ę° pairing. leon kennedy x male reader ęą
ę° synopsis. you and leon are both dating and in the DSO; you as a mechanic and him as an agent. you take pride in the vehicles you work on and leon takes pride in destroying them. he finally makes it up. ęą
ę° wc: 2.9k ęą
ę° database ęą
The garage smelled like oil, metal, and heat.
You were halfway inside the hood of a heavily armored SUV, tightening a bolt with a ratchet, when you heard the unmistakable sound of boots walking in like they owned the place. You didnât even look up.
âAbsolutely not.â
There was a pause.
Then a familiar voice, slightly amused.
âGood morning to you too.â
You slid out from under the hood and wiped your hands on a rag, finally looking over.
Leon stood near the entrance, jacket half unzipped, hair still slightly damp like heâd just come in from the cold.
âDonât even start,â you said flatly.
He raised his hands in mock surrender. âI didnât say anything.â
You pointed the rag at him like it was a weapon. âYouâre not taking my car.â
âItâs not your car,â Leon corrected, already stepping closer.
âIt becomes my car the second I have to rebuild it from scratch after youâre done with it.â
He stopped beside the vehicle, looking it over like he was already picturing himself behind the wheel. âThatâs a little dramatic.â
âDramatic?â you echoed. You tossed the rag onto the workbench and walked up to him. âLast time you borrowed one of my vehicles it came back missing a door.â
âThat wasnât my fault.â
âYou drove it through a church.â
âIt was an infected church.â
âThat does not make it better.â
âYouâre exaggerating.â Leon rubbed the back of his neck, clearly trying not to smile.
âOh yeah?â You leaned against the hood, arms crossed. âWhat about the time you brought back the truck with blood in the air vents.â
âThat oneââ
âOr the motorcycle that mysteriously caught on fire.â
âTechnically it exploded.â
Leon immediately looked at the floor when you glared at him. âNot helping my case, huh?â
âNot even a little.â
Silence hung for a moment.
He sighed, glancing back at the SUV again. âLook, I just need it for a few hours.â
âNo.â
âA day.â
âI said no.â
âHalf a day?â
âLeon.â
He finally looked at you properly. You pointed a wrench at him this time. âIf you so much as touch the handle of that door, I swear to god I will report you to logistics myself.â
âYou wouldnât.â He scoffed, leaning his hip against the workbench beside you, folding his arms.
A pause.
âYouâre seriously telling me the DSO doesnât have another vehicle?â
âThey do.â
âAnd?â
âThey wonât give them to you anymore.â
He blinked. âWhat?â
You gave him a tired look and sighed, âYouâre blacklisted.â
âBy who?â
You pointed at yourself. âI filed the report.â
Leon stared at you like youâd just confessed to a crime. âYou sabotaged me?â
âIâm protecting my work.â
He ran a hand down his face. âYou realize Iâm supposed to be on a mission.â
âYou realize I just replaced the entire suspension system on that SUV because someone,â you gestured vaguely at him, âthinks potholes are optional.â
Leon tilted his head slightly. ââŚthey are if you drive fast enough.â
âGet out.â You grabbed another rag and threw it at his chest.
He caught it easily, laughing under his breath. âYouâre unbelievable.â
âAnd youâre walking.â
He looked toward the exit. ââŚthatâs three miles.â
You shrugged. âGood cardio.â
He stared at you for a moment. Then slowly he reached toward the SUVâs door handle. You immediately grabbed the wrench again. âKennedy.â
He froze
.ââŚyou wouldnât hit a federal agent.â
You stepped closer. âWatch me.â
For a second it looked like you might actually try it. Then he exhaled and stepped back, raising both hands again. âAlright, alright.. I wonder what happened to respecting your elders.â
âOh, shut up.â
Leon looked at the SUV one last time. Then back at you. âYou know, most mechanics like seeing their work in action.â
âMy work does see action.â You gestured around the spotless garage. âIt just usually comes back in one piece.â
âYeah.. canât promise that.â
âI know.â You turned back to the engine and grabbed your ratchet again. âThatâs why youâre not getting the keys.â
ââŚthis isnât over,â he said as he walked towards the exit.
You didnât even look up. âBring back the last jeep you took.â
âIt⌠flipped.â
âExactly.â
Leon sighed dramatically as he stepped out of the garage. But just before the door closed, his voice carried back in. âIâll get the keys eventually.â
You tightened another bolt. âNot unless you want to lose a hand.â
             ༶â˘ââŕ¨ŕ§âââ˘ŕźś
Leon stood just inside the doorway, hands on his hips as he looked around the empty space. Tools were neatly arranged, the workbench wiped down, the armored SUV sitting exactly where you left it.
He checked his watch.
You were gone. Briefing upstairs, if he remembered right.
He walked slowly around the vehicle, eyeing it like a predator circling something tempting.
ââŚYou really couldnât just lend it to me.â
He ran a hand over the hood. The metal was still warm from earlier work. You took good care of these things. Heâd give you that. Which made your refusal even more annoying.
He glanced around the garage again.
Leon crouched beside the driverâs door and checked the handle.
Locked.
âYeah, figured.â
He stood again, looking around the space.
You werenât stupid. You wouldnât just leave the keys lying around.
But you were stubborn.
Which meant you probably hid them somewhere you thought was obvious enough that no one would bother checking.
Leon leaned against the workbench and started casually opening drawers. Screwdrivers, sockets, gloves, but no keys.
He shut the drawer and looked around again, eyes narrowing.
âCome on.â
His gaze landed on the rag youâd used earlier, sitting folded on the bench.
Leon picked it up.
Nothing.
Then he noticed something underneath it.
A small magnetic tray with loose bolts inside.
He lifted it and there they were.
The keys.
Leon blinked. ââŚYouâve got to be kidding me.â
He held them up, staring at them like theyâd personally offended him.
âHe yelled at me for twenty minutes and hid them under a tray.â He shook his head, already smiling. âStupid mechanic.â
Leon tossed the rag back onto the bench and spun the keys around his finger as he walked to the SUV. The lock clicked open.
He slid into the driverâs seat, adjusting it automatically.
The engine started with a smooth, powerful rumble. Leon let out a satisfied breath. âOh yeah. Worth it.â
He backed the SUV out of the garage slowly.
Right before pulling away, he glanced once more at the empty workspace.
ââŚIâll bring it back.â
A pause.
ââŚProbably.â
The garage door shut behind him as the vehicle rolled out of the DSO facility.
And about forty minutes later?
The car ran through a barricade.
Leon gripped the wheel, jerking the SUV hard to the side as something slammed into the rear of the vehicle. The armored frame groaned.
âCome on, come on⌠fuckââ
Another infected threw itself against the side door, claws scraping against reinforced steel.
He swerved, sending it flying off the road. The suspension took the hit hard but held.
A sharp turn.
Gunfire.
The vehicle smashed through another obstacle, metal screaming as the front bumper crumpled slightly.
Leon glanced at the dashboard with a wince. ââŚHeâs so gonna kill me.â
The engine revved again as he floored the gas.
Behind him, the road filled with chaos. And somewhere back at the garage, you had absolutely no idea your âperfectly maintainedâ vehicle had just been launched through two barricades, three infected, and a metal gate.
Leon flinched slightly as another loud clang echoed from the rear axle.
ââŚGreat,â he muttered.
             ༶â˘ââŕ¨ŕ§âââ˘ŕźś
The garage lights were still on.
Leon noticed that immediately.
He slowed the SUV as it rolled into the lot, the engine sounding rougher than it had earlier. One headlight was out. The front bumper hung slightly crooked. There was dried blood smeared along the side panel, and the passenger mirror was⌠mostly gone.
Leon leaned back in the seat and stared at the garage door.
ââŚWell shit.â
The engine idled loudly in the quiet night.
He shut it off.
Silence dropped over everything.
For a moment Leon just sat there with both hands on the steering wheel, staring forward like maybeâmaybeâif he waited long enough the damage would magically fix itself.
The crumpled hood said otherwise.
He sighed. âAlright.â
He opened the door and stepped out.
Up close, the damage looked worse. The reinforced bumper had dents punched deep into it. One tire had clearly been forced through debris. The undercarriage had something stuck in it that Leon decided he did not want to identify.
He shut the door carefully, like that would help.
Leon walked toward the garage entrance, keys dangling loosely from his fingers. The door was half open, light spilling across the concrete floor.
Still quiet. That was good.
He stepped inside slowly. Tools sat neatly where youâd left them. The workbench was organized. That same rag from earlier was folded beside the magnetic tray.
Leon approached the bench and placed the keys down.
They clinked softly against the metal surface.
âSee?â he muttered to the empty room. âReturned it.â
He rubbed the back of his neck.
âMostly.â
He turned to leave.
âLeon Scott Kennedy.â
The voice cut through the garage like a blade.
Leon froze mid-step.
Slowlyâvery slowlyâhe turned around.
You were standing in the shadowed corner near the tool cabinets, arms crossed tightly over your chest.
Leon winced immediately.
ââŚHi, love.â
You donât move.
âDonât âhi, loveâ me.â Your voice was sharp.
âYou donât think about it,â you continued. âYou just take whatever you want because you know Iâll fix it later.â
âThatâs not why I do it.â
âThen why?â
Leon hesitated.
âWell?â
âBecause I trust what you build.â Leon continued calmly. âI know if I take something you worked on, it wonât fail on me out there.â
Your jaw clenched. âThat doesnât make this better.â
âI know but itâs the truth.â
You looked away from him, staring down at the concrete floor.
âYou make my job harder,â you muttered again.
Leon sighed softly.
âIâm sorry.â
You didnât respond.
âI mean it.â
Your shoulders were still tense.
He stepped in front of you now, carefully, not touching you yet.
âYouâre the best mechanic this place has,â he said quietly.
You scoffed. âThat doesnât mean I want more work.â
âI know.â
You rubbed your face with both hands.
Leonâs voice softened.
âHey.. come here.â
You huffed. âIâm not in the mood.â
âToo bad.â
Before you could step away, Leon gently caught your wrist and pulled you closer. You stumbled slightly into his chest. âHeyââ
His arms wrapped around you before you could protest properly. You went stiff immediately.
âIâm mad at you,â you muttered.
âI know.â
âYou always do this.â
âI know, love.â
You tried to pull back. Leon didnât tighten his hold much, but he didnât let go either. Your forehead ended up resting against his shoulder.
âI spent two weeks on that thing,â you mumbled.
âProbably.â He rested his chin lightly on top of your head. âYouâre still mad.â
âObviously.â
âYouâre cute when youâre mad.â
You shoved lightly at his chest. âStop.â
âSorry.â He chuckled softly.
Your arms eventually folded between you both, not fully hugging him but not pushing him away either.
âYou drive me insane.â
âYeah.â
âYou make everything harder.â
âMhm.â
Another quiet moment passed.
Leon rubbed your back slowly. âIâll help fix it.â
You snorted. âYou donât know how.â
âI can hand you tools.â
âYouâll hand me the wrong ones.â
âIâll learn.â
You leaned your head back slightly to look up at him.
âYou owe me.â
Leon nodded immediately.
âI know.â
ââŚYouâre lucky I like you.â
Leon smiled faintly. âGood thing.â
You poked his chest.
âDonât steal my cars anymore.â
âCanât promise that.â
You glared.
He quickly addedâ
âIâll ask first.â
âThat doesnât mean yes.â
You stared at him a second longer.
Then muttered under your breathâ
âYouâre such a pain.â
Leon leaned down slightly and pressed a quick kiss to your hair. âYeah,â he murmured.
             ༶â˘ââŕ¨ŕ§âââ˘ŕźś
The garage had been loud for hours. Metal clanking. A ratchet clicking. The low grind of machinery being taken apart piece by piece.
You were half under the SUV again. The hood was open, parts of the front assembly removed and laid out neatly across a rolling tray. The bent bumper sat off to the side, and you were currently tightening something underneath the engine block.
You werenât mad anymore. Not really. The argument from last night had worn down into something softer. A faint annoyance lingered but even that wasnât enough to ruin your mood.
Then you heard footsteps.
You didnât need to look.
âYouâre not taking another one,â you said from under the hood.
Leon paused mid-step. ââŚI havenât even said anything yet.â
âYou walked into my garage.â
âTechnically itâs the DSO garage.â
âYouâre in my half. If youâre in here you want something.â
He sighed softly, but you could hear the small smile in it. You slid out from under the vehicle, wiping your hands on a rag as you looked up at him. He leaned casually against the workbench like he had yesterday, arms folded, watching you.
You narrowed your eyes slightly. âYou look suspicious.â
âI always look suspicious.â
âMore than usual.â
Leon pushed himself off the bench. âYou done for the day?â
You blinked. ââŚWhat?â
He nodded toward the SUV. âYouâve been at it since early.â
âHow do you know that?â
âI asked.â
You squinted at him. ââŚWhy did you ask.â
Leon walked over, glancing at the half-repaired engine before looking back at you. âBecause I was waiting.â
âFor what?â
âFor you to take a break.â
You frowned. âI donât take breaks.â
âYeah,â He said dryly. âIâve noticed.â
You tossed the rag onto the workbench. âWhat are you planning.â
âNothing dangerous.â
âThatâs not reassuring.â
He reached out and lightly grabbed your wrist. âCome on.â
âLeonââ
âTrust me.â
You looked down at your grease-covered hands. âIâm literally working.â
âYouâve been working all morning.â
You huffed but you let him pull you away from the workbench.
             ༶â˘ââŕ¨ŕ§âââ˘ŕźś
About thirty minutes later, you were standing outside a small restaurant downtown. You stared up at the sign. Then slowly turned toward Leon. ââŚFood?â
He rubbed the back of his neck. âFigured it was a safe choice.â
Your annoyance softened immediately. You loved food.
Leon knew that.
âYou bribing me?â
âMaybe.â
You hummed thoughtfully. ââŚItâs working.â
He chuckled and held the door open.
Inside, the restaurant was warm and quiet. Afternoon light streamed through the windows, and the smell of cooked food made your stomach realize you hadnât eaten.
You slid into the booth Leon picked, stretching your legs under the table while he sat across from you. The menus sat between you. You picked one up immediately.
He watched you for a moment.
Your eyes scanned the page quickly, already analyzing the options. He smiled faintly. Youâre still the same, huh?
You noticed him staring.
âWhat.â
âNothing.â
âYouâre staring.â
âYouâre cute when you read menus.â
You lowered the menu slightly. âThatâs.. weird.â
âItâs true.â
You rolled your eyes and went back to scanning the food.
A waiter dropped off water glasses before walking away again. Leon leaned back in his seat. âThis is also because I havenât been giving you much attention lately.â
You looked up again. He rubbed the back of his neck again, gaze shifting briefly to the table. âI.. canât even remember our last date.â
Your menu lowered completely now.
Leon sighed quietly. âWorkâs been⌠a lot.â
You knew that already. You saw the missions, the late nights, the days where he came back looking exhausted. Still, hearing him say it made your chest tighten a little.
âYouâre busy,â you said.
âThatâs not an excuse.â
You shrugged slightly. âIt kind of is.â
He shook his head. âYou deserve better than that.â
You stared at him for a moment. ââŚYou took me to lunch.â
âIâm trying.â
You leaned back in your seat now, studying him. Leon looked more relaxed than he usually did on base. No jacket, sleeves slightly rolled, hair still messy like he hadnât bothered fixing it after waking up. He looked⌠normal.
âYou planned this?â
âYeah.â
âWhen?â
âLast night.â
You blinked. Leon smiled faintly at your expression.
The waiter returned. You slowly turned and began to orderâvery enthusiasticallyâwhile Leon watched with quiet amusement.
When the waiter left again, you rested your elbows on the table. âYouâre lucky I like food.â
Leon chuckled. âI know.â
âYouâd be in bigger trouble otherwise.â
âI figured dinner was safer than buying you another car.â
You pointed at him immediately. âDonât buy me a car.â
âWhy not?â
âYouâd pick something terrible.â
Leon looked offended. âI have good taste.â
âYouâre old.â
He rolled his eyes.
âBut,â you said, reaching for your water glass, âthis almost makes up for the SUV.â
âAlmost?â
âYou still owe me.â
Leon leaned forward slightly. âIâll keep taking you out to eat until it does.â
You raised an eyebrow. ââŚThat could take a while.â
âIâve got time.â
You looked at him for a moment. Then finally smiled back.
đŤđŻđŹđđ˘đŻđąđś đŹđŁ đŤđŹ đŹđŤđ˘ đ˘đŠđ°đ˘
Leon Kennedy x male reader
Summary: What's worse? Once-human monsters caked in blood and hungry for flesh⌠a towering doctor who kept you locked inside Rhodes Hill Care Center since you first began remembering things⌠or the man willing to do anything to have you all for himself?
Tags: No use of Y/N. Male reader. Dark Leon S Kennedy: dangerous, lethal and charming. Flirting. Possessive behavior. Overprotectiveness. Gore. Protective Leon Kennedy.
âłđśđđâŻđđđžđđ - gif
Words count: 6000
Rhodes Hill Care Center had never felt like a place built for healing.
Even before you understood what hospitals were supposed to be or learned from overheard staff conversations and the fragmented mutterings of other patients that normal places did not keep people behind reinforced glass and keycard doors.
Something about Rhodes Hill was wrong.
Its corridors were too bright in some places and too dim in others, fluorescent panels humming overhead with a nervous, air carrying the layered scent of antiseptic, old mop water, latex gloves, metal trays, stale coffee gone bitter on nursing desks, along the colder smell you could never quite name as a child but knew now as medicine.
Your âroomâ sat in the lower level, one of the smaller observation units set behind thick glass panels framed in dull institutional steel, walls painted an almost-friendly off-white that yellowed under artificial light, a color someone had once selected believing it would soothe unstable minds.
Not that it worked.
Thin seams ran between wall panels and in the corners you could see where years of repeated cleaning had worn the finish down to a smoother, shinier sheen.
A small vent high above the bed exhaled a steady stream of cold air that smelled faintly of bleach and dust. Every few minutes it clicked as the system cycled, a sound so familiar it had become part of your pulse.
The bed was narrow, white and too firm, made with military precision by nurses who tucked the sheets so tightly that slipping beneath them felt like being packaged.
Pillow thin enough to flatten beneath your cheek in seconds, a rolling metal stand stood near the wall for IV bags even on the days you were not hooked up to anything and there was a monitor mounted outside the room behind the glass, its dark screen sometimes reflecting your own shape back at you at night when the hall lights dimmed.
The door was not really a door in the way doors should be, more a controlled access panel with a magnetic lock and a detector, meant to be opened from the outside, except on the rare days someone remembered or decided that a supervised walk would keep you cooperative.
Tonight the room seemed smaller than usual.
You sat on top of the bed, knees bent, bare feet against the stiff sheet, listening.
The routine had stretched too far.
Usually by this point someone would have come, a nurse to check your vitals with clipped efficiency.
Another to ask the same useless questions in the same practiced voice.
Then maybe, if the day had gone the way Dr. Gideon liked and if whatever numbers or samples he wanted from you had satisfied him, you would be granted a little freedom, a reward dressed up as treatment with few supervised laps through Rhodes Hillâs inner corridors or, on especially rare evenings, time in one of the common areas where the long-term patients drifted around bolted furniture and muted televisions.
No one had come today.
Hours had passed, ache in your back from sitting too long, growl of your stomach and constant creeping shift of thunder somewhere far above the buried concrete levels of the facility.
A same routine had ruled your life for as long as memory could hold.
Wake, needles, questions, testing, silence and observation.
Another tray of food slid to you with as little conversation as possible, another evening listening to footsteps beyond glass.
Ever since the first days you could remember clearly, Rhodes Hill had been your world. The basement units had been your house before you knew houses belonged above ground.
The other patients, unstable and unpredictable in ways that could turn frightening without warning, had still become the closest thing to family you had. Not because you understood the true meaning of family, but because you understood presence and the way some people looked for you when they were frightened.
Understood the woman who enjoyed attention and sang beautifully, enjoying hearing her talk profoundly of anything she wanted as you learned progressively everything about life.
Understood the man with bandages around his eyes who you offered as the substitute for (his eyes) while he moved inside the place with that medical auctions for drip and grumbly whined to you about everything.
Although he was easily irascible, describe the way deep down he seemed to like your presence whenever you had the opportunity to step out of your âroomâ
Dr. Gideon liked to phrase it differently.
Therapeutic social exposure, he called it when he allowed you out.
Baseline interaction opportunities.
He liked making cages sound clinical.
Sometimes he had you brought to one of the exam rooms where the counters shone under surgical light and the tray instruments lay arranged in exact rows. There he would take always more blood, tapping a gloved finger against your vein with a patient sort of fascination before the needle did itâs thing.
On his kinder days, or the days he wanted something from you that cooperation would get faster than restraint, he would let the suggestions of the others sway him. A nurse would mention fresh air in the atrium levels, doctors chiming in would say increased privilege might produce better behavioral outcomes.
And then you would be allowed out.
Never alone but always with eyes on you, by it from a nurse, an orderly or security.
Even then, those walks had meant everything. The polished corridors, sharp turns where one department bled into another and glimpses through reinforced windows into rooms that smelled of chlorine or medicine.
Would it really hurt to go out and take a look around?
Maybe you could check in on your friends if they werenât already in bed.
Sliding off the bed soundlessly and dropping to your knees, feeling the cool change from contact with smooth floor even through the thin fabric of your white pants. Lower yourself all the way to flatten yourself and reach beneath the frame into the shadows where dust gathered in gray ribbons and forgotten things sometimes hid, fingers finding the taped underside of the support bar exactly where you had left it.
Peeling the tape free and drawing out the bracelet you had kept and constantly used throughout the years.
White plastic, slightly yellowed with time, with the embedded amber yellow chip still intact under its smooth surface. An ID bracelet from a newcomer girl who had arrived disoriented and terrified.
You had stolen the bracelet in the confusion of her first week as she came to check on your vitals, quick hands and quicker panic, afterward she had vanished from your orbit as so many people in Rhodes Hill did.
Moved, perhaps, or taken elsewhere.
You had felt bad in your own way, a small sour knot of guilt that never fully dissolved, but guilt had not stopped you from hiding the bracelet or using it.
Thanks to her, you had slipped out on late nights when the lower ward ran thin on staff and half the building seemed to doze under storm-heavy skies, wandered the sleeping corridors and traded whispers with the few patients still awake.
Shared contraband snacks, laughed quietly in laundry alcoves and sat under the emergency stairwell lights listening to stories from people whose memories came in cracked pieces.
That was as close to belonging as you had ever gotten.
You crouched by the door and pressed the bracelet against the outside-detection point built into the panel seam. It took a few seconds of stubborn pressure and angle adjustment before the reader acknowledged it, followed by the tiny mechanical click, one of the most beautiful sounds you knew.
The lock disengaged and you backed away instinctively as the door slid open with a muted hydraulic whisper, breath catching in your throat from the thrill of it even after all these years.
The basement was so claustrophobic at times, floor polished linoleum and walls lined with occasional observation windows and storage closets.
Thunder grumbled above the concrete earth as you moved quickly.
You knew where to place your feet to keep them quiet, knew where the camera blind spots curved near the corners or which stairwell door on this level complained if opened too fast. In a few moments you were climbing from the basement, hand gliding over the cool rail, pulse ticking faster as you emerged upward into the broader heart of the facility.
The main lobby looked different at night, large enough to suggest the illusion of openness, furnished just well enough to make visitors believe in Rhodes Hillâs polished mission statement if any real visitors still came. You had memorized its shape over years of stolen glances and supervised crossings.
âExcuse me.â
The voice struck surprised and immediate across the lobby.
âWhat exactly are you doing out here?â
You turned toward the irritating noise with instant annoyance and found a nurse marching toward you, shoes clicking briskly on tile, expression already pinched into reprimand. You still couldnât remember her name, she had not worked here long enough to sink into your internal map of the place.
She carried a medical record tablet tucked tight in her hands as the irritation on her face came in small precise shifts, flattening of her mouth first, then the slight draw of her brows inward followed by an exhale through the nose that lifted her upper lip just enough to make her look disgusted before sheâd even finished hearing your answer.
âNo one came to check on me,â you said, already defensive. âThis is usually when Dr. Gideon lets me go out.â
She sighed heavily in annoyance, dramatic enough to make sure you heard it. Her shoulders dropped with the breath and her eyes rolled very slightly toward the ceiling before settling back on you. âYou are going to put me in trouble with this attitude,â she said, voice tight with that fake patience staff used when they had already decided you were the problem.
âHonestly, I would expect more discipline from someone who has been here as long as you have.â
Something shifted at the edge of your vision and both of you looked.
A man had just stepped through the front entrance, tall, broad-shouldered and dark jacket still damp from the storm outside, leather catching the lobby light in worn matte streaks.
Blond hair, a little longer than severe professionalism would allow, falling in a loose lock near the side of his cheek.
Face with the kind of rough, worn handsomeness that didnât need help from expression, though there was plenty of it buried under the restraint if you looked close enough.
Tiredness lived around the mouth and at the edges of the eyes, experience sat in the line of his shoulders and the way he moved, balanced and watchful even in stillness.
Dull blue eyes that settled on you immediately.
The nurse straightened instantly.
âMr. Kennedy, welcome. Dr. Gideon has been expecting you.â
His gaze rested on you for a beat longer before moving to her with maddening calm.
âFunny,â he said, one corner of his mouth lifting just a little. âI donât remember getting an invitation.â
The flicker of his gaze came back to yours as if he couldnât help it.
âWell, heâs waiting for you,â the nurse said, already turning, then shot you a look from the side and muttered âyou come alongâ
âCanât have that, can we?â he replied smoothly, and the ghost of a smile remained at his lips as he fell into step behind the two of you.
His eyes cooled when they rested on the nurse after the tone she had used with you, a faint tightening near his jaw that suggested he was filing away details he didnât like.
The hallway beyond the lobby stretched long and clinical, lined with offices on one side and internal windows on the other where blinds were partly drawn, your footsteps and the nurseâs clicks and the heavy, controlled cadence of Mr. Kennedyâs boots created a strange little rhythm through the corridor.
âSo how long have you been working for⌠uh, Dr. Gideon?â he asked.
âNot long,â the nurse said quickly. âI just recently joined the team.â
Lightning flashed beyond the distant windows, bright enough to bleach the hall for a heartbeat. Your shadows leapt onto the wall to your right in stretched black forms and, for that instant, you saw all three of you projected there.
What caught in your chest was how close his shadow ran behind yours, broad and looming and near enough to seem almost joined.
âWe care for quite a few long-term patients here,â the nurse continued, smoothing her tone into strict professionalism. âAll undergoing experimental therapies developed by Dr. Gideon.â
âExperimental therapies?â he repeated.
âYes. Itâs all very cutting edge. The facility keeps a low profile due to the sensitive nature of the research.â
He nodded once, slowly, but you could still feel his attention on you. It was absurd how aware you had become of it in such a short time.
Not because he was the first attractive man you had ever seen, though the sheer difference of his presence in this place gave his attractiveness a sharper edge, but because he didnât looked at you like data or a case file.
Every time you glanced behind and found his eyes already on you, something small and hot tightened under your ribs.
Swallowing turned difficult, air seeming to drag a little thicker in your throat, hated that he could do that with so little effort.
The nurse stopped at a pair of large double doors and ushered him inside a private office, larger than the basement rooms by a humiliating margin, lined with bookshelves, framed credentials, locked filing cabinets and a heavy desk of dark wood polished enough to gleam under the lamp with a fake skeleton nearby.
She turned back to you. âWait here with him. Iâm going to call for Dr. Gideon.â
Then she was gone, large doors closing behind her with a padded thud.
For a moment neither of you spoke.
Mr. Kennedy moved first, taking in the office with the clipped efficiency, gaze skimming the shelves, the corners, the window, the desk. He picked up a framed photograph from one corner of Gideon with his team, all of them posed in lab coats under bright sunlight. He studied it briefly, then set it back down and turned his attention to you.
âSo,â he said. âHow long have you been here?â
Leaning against the large door frame behind, careful not to put enough weight on it to lose your balance and crash into the hallway like an idiot. âForever,â you muttered. âSince I could remember things.â
His eyes lifted to yours fully then. Serious, yes, but there was something gentler tucked into the severity and under all that roughness. The lines in his face made him look harder than he sounded, lock of blond hair falling loose near his forehead and softening the stoic cut of him.
âAnybody from outside ever come to visit you?â
His gaze moved over you again, quiet and unashamed, tracing the shape of your face, pause on your mouth, take in the fragile tension in your shoulders. Heat crept up your neck before you could stop it.
âNo one I know of.â Then, because the words had lived in you too long not to come out when asked plainly, you added, âI was probably abandoned here.â
It had become the explanation that made the most sense after years of listening to others and collecting fragments of their histories. Parents who signed forms, guardians stopping visits, people left behind by those who could not or would not deal with what they had become.
He tilted his head slightly, the loose strand of hair shifting from said motion. His blue gaze stayed heavy on yours and this time the smile that touched his mouth was a little more visible, though no less strange for how soft it was.
âHard to imagine,â he said, voice low. âIâd really like to know whoâd leave someone like you here alone.â
The word hit you like a spark to dry tinder, heat exploded into your chest.
He watched the result with the faintest widening of that smile into a real grin, small but unmistakable, like he was entertained by how quickly heâd unraveled your system.
âAnnouncement: Code Six. Code Six. All staff, initiate emergency protocol.â
The words ripped straight through the charged bubble formed between you and the handsome stranger.
The doors banged open, nurses hurrying back in, visibly agitated now, composure fraying at the edges. âMr. Kennedy, we need to leave immediately.â
âWhatâs happening?â You moved toward her on instinct and caught her shoulder.
Her head snapped toward you, eyes too wide now, breath coming quicker. âWe all need to get out of here. Now.â
She turned toward the hall just as another figure lurched into view behind her.
At first your brain tried to place him as one of Gideonâs doctors because of the ruined remains of a lab coat hanging off his body.
His skin had the sick, waterlogged pallor of flesh gone wrong, gray-white stretched over features that no longer moved properly except in jerks, lips receding from the teeth in a permanent grimace while grayish-towards-the-black tears ran down his face.
His dead fingers twitched on the grip of a chainsaw he had as it was yanked alive and the engine roared.
A large hand seized your arm so fast you barely felt the movement until you were already being dragged back and crashed against a broad chest made of solid muscle.
Mr. Kennedyâs bicep locked across your frame to hold you close, hand on your arm calloused and strong even through the glove.
The chainsaw punched out of the nurseâs back and burst through her stomach in an obscene spray, her mouth dropping open in a soundless cry before the real scream came too late, cut short when the blade tore sideways through tissue and bone. Blood hit the floor in a red fan as her body dropped in a boneless collapse and the sawâs scream filled the office, chewing air and flesh alike.
Leon guided you behind him with astonishing gentleness for the violence of the moment, a firm push at your shoulder that placed his body between you and the thing wearing a doctorâs face before kicking a nearby metal-legged office chair that skidded hard across the floor and slammed into the zombieâs knees, opening its stance just enough.
He moved instantly cutting behind the arc of the chainsaw with a grip still tight on your arm to keep you moving with him.
âI think I want a second opinion,â he muttered while extracting a huge handgun.
He closed the distance on the chainsaw-wielding corpse with insane speed for someone his age. One step, pivot, boot driving into the back of the thingâs leg at the joint. It buckled and hit the floor hard, still trying to turn the screaming saw toward him. The magnum came level with the back of the doctorâs skull and fired.
Shot detonating the room at the revolverâs bark and the zombieâs head burst apart in a spray of bone fragments, blood and gray matter that painted the wall behind it. The body spasmed once and collapsed, chainsaw clattering loose from dead hands and skittering across the floor in a wild grinding spin until it finally choked out.
Your ears rang, too much had happened but fate kept firing more catastrophe towards you as snarling came from behind.
The office side door shuddered as more nurses and doctors in the same state as the chainsaw welding one was, shoved through with jaws working and hands clawing.
Mr. Kennedy stooped, caught the fallen chainsaw by the handle once the chain stopped whipping and hauled it up with caution, the engine coughed as he yanked and it came alive with a vicious buzzing roar.
He stepped forward, face nearly unchanged and set into an hard and stoic calm that somehow looked even colder with a blood-slick chainsaw in hand.
Before fully engaging the oncoming dead, he looked back at you quickly, eyes sweeping over you head to toe, checking for injuries.
When he found little more than shock, something in his features eased by a fraction.
âStay behind me,â he said, voice rough. âWouldnât want that handsome face getting hurt.â
It should not have landed in the middle of all this.
Then he turned and met the first zombie, chainsaw carving upward into its torso with wet violence that drowned the creatureâs snarl under the engine scream. Flesh split and blood sprayed hot across the desk and rug.
He drove through it without hesitation, letting the dead body open like a book fall to the ground in a puddle of infected blood before he wrenched the blade free and swung sideways into the next one.
The second corpse lost an arm at the shoulder in a spinning burst of black-red droplets and staggered, still advancing on blind instinct, only for Leon to step in and bury the chain deep across its middle. The body opened with gruesome resistance, then gave way. He shoved it off the blade with a jerk of his arms and pivoted around the third as it lunged, using its own momentum against it.
Blood sheeted over the floor by the time the last corpse dropped in two collapsing halves, the office looked less like a workplace than a butchered shrine.
You had ended up on the floor without remembering the moment you sat down, legs who had simply given up while staring at the ruin all around while your mind lagged painfully behind your eyes, trying and failing to fit what you had just seen into anything a human nervous system should be expected to accept.
Leon crossed the ruined office and lowered himself to one knee.
Blood speckled his jacket, fine spray dotted one cheek, hard planes of his face were still there, still stern and almost intimidating, but his hand when it came down on your shoulder was careful, voice scraping at an effort toward gentleness.
âYou alright?â
You nodded, but the motion broke something in your throat when a sob tried to come with it, swallowing it down badly, hands shaking.
Getting back to full height he offered you one of his hands which you took.
Even hauling you upright while the other hand still controlled the heavy chainsaw, he made it look easy and when you stumbled the slightest bit, his body automatically adjusted to steady you.
âOne hell of a first night together,â he muttered, mouth pulling into another dry and crooked almost-smile again.
Leonâs blood-flecked hand was still wrapped around yours when he moved towards the heavy emergency doors locked down by a lattice of metal braces.
Leon stepped forward, eyes narrowing once at the obstruction, then down at the chainsaw in his hand as if measuring one problem against another.
âStay close,â he muttered, voice low and rough before bringing the chainsaw up.
The engine snarled back to full life in his grip with a vicious mechanical scream. He set the spinning chain against the middle brace, both hands steady on the weapon as the teeth bit into steel and orange tongues of fire spat from the point of contact in molten bursts, a storm of sparks showering outward and ricocheting against the walls in blistering little comets that showered over him in sheets, catching for an instant in his hair, hissing against the leather of his gloves, spitting harmlessly off his jacket and the hard line of his jaw.
He shifted to force the chain deeper, teeth chewing through another brace as orange spray intensified near the center seam.
A harsh metallic crack came from inside the housing, a jolt that kicked through Leonâs arms and then the front half of the tool split, blade assembly sheared away in a blur of smoke and slammed into the floor several feet off.
By then his other hand was already moving, Requiem drawn with smoothness together a compact flashlight snapped up in his off hand.
With a kick the metal keeping the door closed disintegrated completely.
The beam of light punched forward and tore a pale path through the darkness beyond the parted doors.
He barely turned his head enough for you to catch the hard edge of his profile and the blond strand hanging near his temple.
âStay close,â he said again.
âAlright,â you swallowed and managed, though it came out smaller than you meant it to, more breath than voice.
You kept so near behind him that every step made you aware of his size, eyes snagging lower where there was a hatchet secured against the lower side of his back.
Its edge was darkened by fresh blood near the tip, sitting against the tight grey fabric stretched over his hips and thighs, making the contrast almost unfair. His pants fit too well not to notice, hugging the powerful build of his lower body in a way that made every shift of his bulky frame the more eye-catching.
He kept moving, gun raised and light steady.
âSo,â he murmured after a few silent steps, his whisper pitched dry with sarcasm, âthis one of your doctorâs therapy side effects?â
You stared at the line of his shoulders under the tight shirt and stuttered a little when you answered. âIâI donât know anything. I swear. They never told me anything.â
He made a quiet noise that might have been acknowledgment.
âYou can keep going?â he asked without looking back.
Terror had your heart in a fist, hands still shaking and the shard of broken bottle youâd picked up downstairs now dug cold and awkward against your palm.
âYes,â you whispered. âI can do it.â
A tiny chuckle, more vibration than voice, nearly lost under the hum of the flashlight and the far-off alarms.
Due to him having his back to you, you caught only the edge of it.
âGood,â he said. âLucky for you, youâre cute. Makes you easier to trust.â
Heat flooded up your neck and into your cheeks so fast it almost hurt. In the dark you were grateful he couldnât fully see it, though part of you suspected he knew anyway.
âAre you a cop?â In a hushed voice, because your brain had found the first thing it could grasp.
His shoulders shifted almost imperceptibly and then a short laugh escaped him, dry and worn.
You remembered one of the patients on your floor with bandages around his eyes after an incident the staff always retold with too much relish.
He had attacked a police officer during some uncontrollable episode years ago and afterward, before they sedated him, had rambled to you about what cops looked like after asking him what they were and he had laughed so hard he cried.
âUsed to be,â he whispered back, missing the way his face tightened briefly at that.
Nothing in his tone invited more questions and you understood that clearly enough.
Farther ahead, the corridor opened near an alcove where one of the wall switches or breaker panels had malfunctioned. The overhead lights there flickered on and off in erratic rhythm.
In the center of that broken strobe stood a figure wearing elegant clothes, skin the same dead, water-swollen gray as the others.
âTurn them off,â he rasped.
Click.
âToo bright...â
Click.
âTurn them off turn them off turnthemoff.â
Each flicker constantly made his frame twitch.
Leonâs arm shot out across your chest without looking, a silent bar of muscle halting you instantly.
Stay.
The message came through even before the slight angle of his hand reinforced it.
He slipped forward silently, flashlight beam dropping enough to keep from flashing directly across the zombieâs ruined face.
The hatchet came free from his lower back in one smooth pull while the zombie kept clicking the switch before Leon drove the weapon into the side of its neck.
Not a clean chop but a brutal sinking bite that buried steel into stiff tissue and half through the vertebrae. The zombie convulsed, fingers spasming on the switch so the lights flashed madly and Leon planted his weight, bicep swelling hard beneath the fabric as he forced the wound wider, using leverage and pressure as a tearing crack came, then the head came off.
It separated in a nauseating burst of blood and ruptured tissue, a geyser of dark arterial spray blasted upward from the stump in a violent fountain, pattering the wall, switch panel and floor. The body remained standing for the smallest impossible fraction of a second, pumping blood into the air from a neck attached to nothing, then folded and crashed sideways into the wall before sliding to the ground in a twitching heap.
Leon flicked the hatchet down to shake some of the blood free, then gave a tiny curl of two fingers without even really looking back at you, absurdly casual for a man who had just decapitated a once-human being with one arm.
Hurrying after him, carefully stepping around the corpse. Even on the floor the body still twitched, muscles spasming in ugly little aftershocks as trapped chemical energy and dying nervous discharge rippled through tissue that had not yet accepted it was finished.
âDo you know where Gideonâs office is?â he asked, not turning around, pistol staying raised and flashlight beam drifted with every measured step.
The tight shirt clung to his back in darkened patches where rain and blood had soaked in, shoulders broad enough to block half the hall. Each time he extended the gun, the muscles in his arm and chest shifted under the fabric with dense, heavy definition, bicep flexing as he adjusted his grip, large enough that the pistol in his hand looked almost secondary.
Nothing about him looked soft and yet he had checked your injuries twice already and kept placing himself between you and every horror in this building.
âDo you think Dr. Gideon is involved in this?â Asked after a moment of hesitation.
He turned his head just enough for you to catch part of his profile, lock of blond hair falling down the side of his face, brushing the stubble at his cheek with the motion.
âHow about,â he murmured, thick with sarcasm, âfor now I ask the questions and you answer them?â
That shut you up immediately, focusing instead on remembering on the times you had been brought through upper levels under escort or the few escape attempts that had made it farther than they should have.
âTop floor,â you said at last. âI saw him there before. Near the upper offices.â
Leon gave a quick nod and kept going, flashlight carving a narrow visible path through the suffocating dark.
After another stretch of hall, he tilted his head slightly and touched something at his ear.
âSherry,â he said. âIâm getting close to Gideonâs office. Maybe I find something there.â
A womanâs voice answered in your earless emptiness, crisp and controlled, carrying the faint backdrop chatter of keys tapping quickly somewhere far away. âIâm surprised you didnât ask me to find it for you.â
No speaker on the wall or person in sight, just the small device in Leonâs ear.
Leon glanced sideways and found you already staring at him with open curiosity, mouth of his edging up a fraction.
âManaged to find someone to help me out,â he said.
âYou found someone in that facility who isnât infected?â Sherry asked with genuine confusion.
Leon grunted approval. âGot there in time.â His side glance flicked over you once, warm and wicked in a way that made your stomach jump. âSaved the most handsome one, too. Honestly, if heâd turned, I probably wouldnât have minded him jumping on me.â
Your gaze dropped so fast it almost hurt your neck, heat slamming across your face again while staring very intently at the floor as you followed him, gripping your pathetic glass shard harder than necessary.
Over the comm, Sherry made a quiet sound of disgust that still somehow carried amusement under it. âThat is absolutely not the update I was looking for.â
You could practically hear the small scoff and the headshake behind her words, somehow even you could tell she was smiling despite herself.
âContact me if you find anything,â she said and the line clicked dead.
The stairwell entrance came into view ahead, its push-bar door half open and emergency lights bleeding thin red along the frame.
Leon stepped toward it first, then a huge hand shot out from the darkness behind and lifted you clean off the ground.
One moment your feet were on the floor, the next your body was dragged backward against a mass of strength so overwhelming it made panic white-hot and immediate. The shard of glass nearly fell from your hand as fingers clamped around your upper torso and pinned your arms awkwardly as you kicked uselessly in empty air.
Dr. Gideon didnât change into one of the mindless dead exactly, there seemed to be the same sight of the infection on his whole body but retrained his intelligence. He had always been tall, now the corruption seemed to exaggerate it, making him loom with grotesque emphasis.
Veins dark as spilled ink climbed the side of his neck and vanished beneath the collar of that torn coat, skin gone ashen and uneven, split at the temple, drawn tight over sharper bones.
âWhere do you think youâre going?â he asked you first, rotten breath still carrying the dry, educated cadence you knew, only now threaded with something spoiled.
Then his eyes cut to Leon.
âAnd Mr. Kennedy,â he said, almost pleasantly. âYou shouldnât take other peopleâs things without asking first.â
Your whole body flooded with adrenaline so hard your vision narrowed, without thinking, you drove the sharp broken bottle neck backward into his arm.
It punched into the flesh above his wrist with a wet crunch and sank deeper than you expected. Gideon hissed, but not in pain, more annoyance, grip barely loosening.
Leonâs magnum shot cracked through the hall with force as the round hit Gideon in the head and snapped it violently backward, the impact so brutal you heard it before you fully understood it. Blood burst outward in a thick arc, droplets and heavier spatters painting the wall. Gideonâs hold failed all at once and you dropped hard to the floor, catching yourself badly on one arm, pain flaring hot from wrist to elbow as your shoulder jarred.
Scrambling up immediately and ran straight to Leonâs side as he was already sighting the gun again, stance squared, expression gone glacial.
The barrel smoked faintly in the flashlight beam.
"Sorry, doc. Guess that answers the custody question."
Said doctor answered with a roar, wound on his head knitted not perfectly but unfairly fast. Torn flesh shivered and pulled together, cratered ruin of bone sealed beneath a fresh spill of blood that cascaded down his face in dark streams.
Leon fired again.
The second shot from the magnum punched Gideon back a step, chest twisting with the force.
Then Leon turned his head sharply toward you.
âRun,â he said. âIâll be right behind you.â
Running out of the hallway and into the bright white spill of the main lobby higher floor abruptly after the corridorâs suffocating dark, polished floors flashed beneath your feet.
Then metal bars dropped behind over the path you had taken in a thunderous sequence.
You spun just in time to see the hallway begin to close off even further as a reinforced wall panel descended from above.
Leon was still on the other side.
He had turned at the sound, Gideon somewhere beyond him in the dark passage. For one sliver of a moment, before the closing barrier cut him away, his gaze found yours through the narrowing gap, tension hardening around his eyes in concern before the wall sealed shut.
Suddenly, completely, you were alone.
Note: This was originally planned as a oneshot, but this first part alone ended up much longer than expected âď¸. Let me know if you'd be interested in seeing a continuation.
summary - the saja boys do a terrible job at taking care of you when you're sick
warning - fem reader, possessive behaviour, swearing, sexual tension, spicy content
w/c - 4,5K
a/n - sorry for the delayed chapter I was on holiday, pls correct me if there are any mistakes, comments, reblogs and likes are much appreciated, hope you enjoy!
âPlease Jinu, you really don't have to do thisâ, you pleaded, grabbing his hands in an attempt to stop him from lifting up your trousers. Unfortunately, his grip was much stronger than yours, so he easily held your hands together to stop you.
âIf I don't do this, your wound will get infectedâ, he explains whilst holding out the cotton bud laced with antiseptic, and you shudder in fear. Dance practice often led to a lot of injuries, but you still found the stinging pain that came with disinfecting a wound unbearable.
Once the soft material hit your skin, you shifted back against the sofa and bit down on your lips to suppress the pained whimper that planned to breach through.
Jinu looked up at you with pity before rubbing your exposed leg in comfort, âI know, darling. I know it hurts, but please bear with it just a little longer. Can you do that for me?â
The way he said it, almost as though he was begging, made you unable to resist, and you gave him a weary nod and sucked up your breath, preparing for the agonizing pain you were about to experience.
The hands surrounding you provided a distraction from the sharp pain coursing through your knees. After Baby had finished drying your hair, he'd taken a spot on the sofa right next to you, and was replaced with Mystery, who was now brushing your hair.
Mystery never failed to surprise you, from being a fan of yours to being good at styling hair. You saw a side to him that his fans would never even dream about.
Romance sat next to you, holding your hand for comfort, allowing you to squeeze it when you were in pain. Abby was busy making ramyeon in the kitchen, and of course, Jinu was attending to your knees. For the next couple of minutes you suffered through the pain, using the boys as a way to distract yourself. Seeing them distressed by your suffering comforted you, which motivated you to bear with the pain a little longer.
Jinu started to pull down the hem of your trousers, and you let out a sigh of relief, realizing he was finally done. You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to see Mystery holding up a mirror. Looking at it, you saw how your hair was filled with all kinds of flowers, woven through the strands in an almost harmonious way.
âMystery, this is so cute. I didn't know you knew how to do hairâ, you gush, watching the way his ears became red from the compliment.
âRamyeonâs here!â
Everyone turned around to see Abby walking in holding a tray full of cup noodles. He came to you first and held out the tray in front of you. You gave him a warm smile before taking the noodles and waited till everyone was sat down with their noodles before digging in, slurping down the noodles with excitement.
Ever since the phone call with Baby, you've been eating a lot more than usual, and dance practice had left you famished, so you definitely needed the meal. Each of the boys started talking to each other, leaving you alone in your thoughts. Your mind couldn't help but drift back to the encounter from moments ago.
That kiss.
You kept trying to avoid thinking about it, not wanting to make things awkward between you and your new friend, but it was almost impossible.
Subtly, you turned to Romance, watching him rake his hand through his perfectly styled hair. You watched in awe at the way he would speak to Abby. His voice, level. His face, perfect. Not a single imperfection anywhere.
So why would someone like him kiss someone like you?
Whilst talking his eyes swiftly moved to you and you quickly looked back down, praying he hadnât noticed you staring.
Something about the way Romance looked at you, the way it made you feel. All of it was so foreign to you.
It was a warm, but suffocating feeling. The way, not just Romance, but all of them, made you feel was similar to the feeling of floating through warm water. You just felt free. But to you, it wasn't enough.
Despite being surrounded by people who have treated you better than you ever have in your life, you just couldn't help but want more. You felt selfish, knowing you couldn't just accept the love that they'd already given you.
But when you were kissed, it felt as though that selfish desire trapping your heart had been set free, and your desires had finally been met. You wanted more from these boys, but you didn't exactly know what.
Looking back at Romance, you could still see him, staring at you with those blazing eyes. Soon, your eyes trailed down to his lips, and you couldn't help the feeling of wanting them back on you. The memory of his lips consuming yours brought shivers down your spine.
A wave of insecurity washed over you suddenly once you realized how creepy you were being. You quickly slammed your noodle cup down and stood up, turning everyone's attention to you.
âI really should be going nowâ, you hurried out, âthank you for your hospitalityâ. You rushed to the door before being stopped by Baby, who was holding out his phone in front of you.
The first thing you noticed was the phone charm hanging off the side of his case, and you could feel your heart warm at the gesture. When you looked at the contents on the screen, you could see the weather app showing that it was going to rain for the entire week.
âDon't goâ.
You looked back up to see his usual nonchalant face, but behind those eyes, you could see the pleading look buried beneath the layers. Turning around, you saw the others with the same look, each standing up, ready to stop you from leaving them.
Five very strong, eager men praying you'll stay with them.
Now that's definitely a unique experience.
You let out a tired sigh before accepting your fate. There was no use arguing with them.
Plus, it's not like you didn't want to stay.
âFine, fine, I'll stay the nightâ.
Cheers erupt from the boys, and youâre immediately dragged back to the sofa.
âââââââââââââ
You woke up, feeling the ground below you significantly softer than what you were used to. Typically, you'd wake up to a sharp pain coming from your legs as a result of one of the mattressâs springs digging into your thigh throughout the night. But the mattress you were on felt as light as a cloud. Once you opened your eyes, you knew you weren't in your room, judging from how large it was, and fear shot through you.
Where were you?
You got out of the bed to inspect the room, only to be met with a wave of dizziness. Your body felt hot, and your vision was slightly blurred. Some of the memories from last night surfaced back into your mind, remembering how you'd fallen asleep on the sofa after watching an incredibly boring movie with the boys.
Considering the unfamiliar location, you must still be in their house. Despite the pain coursing through your head, you went to look for them, feeling lost without them in the maze of a mansion.
When you managed to find the staircase, you could hear the sounds of chatter coming from downstairs, and you knew it was them. Tightly, you gripped onto the staircase railing, still feeling dizzy, and advanced down the staircase.
Once you finally reached the kitchen, you could see the boys, still dressed in their nightwear. You let out a sigh of relief, glad you didn't wake up too late. Although upon further inspection, you noticed the lack of shirts coming from both Abby and Jinu. Quickly, you looked away from them, not wanting to become distracted by the layers of muscles trailing down their torsos. When you were about to say something, you were interrupted by a sharp pain pressing against your throat, making you release a fit of coughs, turning everyone's attention to you.
âHey guysâ, you muster out weakly, before letting out another strangled cough.
The cough, the dizziness, the burning up. You were surprised it took you so long to realise that you had caught a fever, probably from being drenched in the rain.
The Saja Boys were quick to surround you, each plastered with massive grins spread across their cheeks; they were a little too excited to see you.
âAre you feeling better now?â Jinu asked, holding onto your shoulder once he noticed you swaying slightly, âYou ended up fainting. Not sure if it was because of the movie, or because of something elseâ.
Before responding, you looked outside to check on the weather, and to your dismay, it was still raining.
Curse that weatherman.
âI think I'm fine now, but my head feels kind of warm. I probably have a feverâ, you admit, taking in the panicked expression coming from the boys. When you were about to reassure them that it wasn't anything serious, you felt yourself being picked up.
It was obvious who was picking you up, evident from the tight grip coming from the large hands that filled around the curves of your skin. Abby had carried you in a way where staring at his bare chest was unavoidable. It was clear just how much he worked out from just how large his torso was compared to yours, and the way his abs would glisten in the light.
You still didn't understand what made Abby love carrying you so much, but if it pleased him, then you'd let him. Plus, you were starting to get used to it just as much as he was.
He carried you all the way upstairs, the others following behind. You didn't bother asking where you were going, already knowing the answer. Despite how resistant you were before, you were slowly getting used to the way the boys would care for you. Although it was strange considering the short time that you had interacted with each other, you couldn't deny that you also felt the same wave of protectiveness with them.
He laid you down gently on the bed and tucked you in, leaving you staring up at him and the others. âWe'll be back soon, just restâ, he whispers, brushing a stray hair off your face and leaving you alone.
Since they're definitely not letting you go, you figured you'd get comfortable and sleep a little more.
âââââââââââââ
âCome on, Baby, hurry up. What if she's dying?â Jinu panicked, shaking him violently whilst Baby growled in frustration. âI don't understand this human stuff, don't blame meâ, he grumbled out, eyes locked on the screen in front of him.
âWhat is a fever?â
âIt sounds like she's dying. Should we take her to a hospital?â Mystery chirps, his voice on the edge of tears.
The boys turned to him, his worries starting to spread to them. When you passed out last night, they assumed it was either you needing rest or the boring film that was on, so they just carried you to a spare bedroom, thinking nothing of it.
Although they did argue over the idea that you should sleep in a much larger, more fancier room with one of the boys. But in the end, they decided that that would be your decision to make, once you were conscious. They didn't want you waking up thinking something else happened.
In the morning, theyâd noticed how quietly you were speaking and even the way you were standing seemed off, but theyâd brushed it off as being because youâd just woken up, not because of this âfeverâ. The demon boys still had a lot to learn about humans.
âHer symptoms all match up, it just says she needs lots of rest. She's not going to die since it's not that badâ.
The others let out a sigh of relief, comforted by Babyâs words. They figured this had to be the result of yesterday's events, and concluded that something like this would never happen again.
âI'm going to do more research, just make sure she's in bedâ, he says and goes back to his phone. As soon as the boys heard that, they all rushed towards the staircase, pushing and shoving each other, hoping to be the first one to your room.
After a struggle, Abby had finally made it to the guest room and was about to unlock the door before being tackled by a breathless Romance â fighting was definitely not his strong suit. Mystery soon followed, even attempting to bite Abby's hands to prevent him from unlocking the door. They each wanted to be the first one to see you.
Because they had been so distracted, they hadn't noticed Jinu coming up from behind and unlocking the door for himself, sending each of them flying into your room. They all laid on the floor, groaning in pain at the impact of tumbling over each other. Once they noticed they were in your room, they were quick to get back up.
â(Y/N), where ar-â, Romance was interrupted by a hand covering his mouth. He looked to where Jinu was pointing at and saw your sleeping form, tucked into bed. Seeing this, each of the boys quickly quieted down and slowly approached you.
They took in your peaceful form, the sounds of your calm breathing going in and out felt like a soothing melody. It was their way of knowing that you were safe.
Jinu noticed how your blanket wasn't covering you fully and carefully pulled it forward so it reached your shoulders. Seeing as he was so close to your face, he felt compelled to kiss your cheek before leaving with the others.
âââââââââââââ
In the background, you could hear muffled chatter coming from behind the door, and you opened your eyes to take a look at your surroundings. The first thing you noticed was that the number of pillows and teddy bears surrounding you had greatly increased from when you were first here.
Did you accidentally steal these in your sleep?
The door started to open, and in came Jinu, cautiously holding a tray with a bowl on top of it. His attention was so focused on it that he hadn't noticed you awake and staring right at him.
âHi Jinuâ, you greet and almost burst out laughing once you see him jump up, almost dropping the tray in his hands. âSorry for startling you, is that for me?â
If you had any more energy, you probably would've gotten up to help, but you knew he wouldn't have liked that, considering he brought it all the way up here for you.
He gave a warm smile and a nod before setting the tray down on the nightstand and moving towards you to feel your forehead. Even though you knew how touchy the Saja Boys were, you still couldn't get used to it, and you felt your face start to slowly heat up at the close contact.
âHmm, you feel warmer than beforeâ, he pondered curiously, before seeing how your ears were a slight shade of pink. Once he realized what was going on, he held in a laugh and replaced it with a wide grin.
âHere, this might helpâ, he says as he sits on the bed with you and brings the tray over to your lap. Looking down, you could see a bowl of what looked to be porridge and a small plate on the side filled with some berries. The berries looked fresh, as though theyâd been freshly picked, the porridge on the other handâŚ
Not only was it burnt in some areas, but it somehow had a light shade of purple to it, making you almost afraid to eat it. You looked up at the innocent smile coming from Jinu and gave him a tight grin before looking back down at the concoction.
It's the thought that counts (Y/N), you chanted over and over as you took a small spoonful and directed it towards your lips. The scent of the burnt oats tackled your nose, and you almost gagged at the smell.
Once again, you gave Jinu a hesitant smile before ultimately taking a bite and swallowing as quickly as possible, attempting to minimize as much damage to your taste buds. However, it was in vain once you could feel the taste of the charcoal bits along your throat, and you let out a strangled cough.
Jinu quickly panicked and reached for the water off the nightstand and handed it to you. You grabbed it from him, needing to wash down the bitter taste before it left a permanent mark on you.
âI'm guessing that was because of the feverâ, Jinu said confidently, and you quickly nodded, not wanting to leave any doubt in his mind.
You didn't want him feeling bad after he made a meal just for you. Although you prayed he would never try to cook again, the next person might not be as nice.
From outside the door you could hear some chatter and watched in surprise as Baby burst through the door with Mystery behind him. Baby took in the scene before turning to look at Jinu with an angry expression, âJinu, why did you give her that?!â
Jinu stood up from the bed, just as angry, âWhat do you mean? I gave her exactly what the website told me to give herâ.
âNo, it was soup, you idiot. Now she's probably going to get more sick because of youâ.
Jinu looked at you, checking to see if you looked any sicker before turning his attention back to Baby, âSoup? Not a single website talked about soup. Plus, she seems fine to meâ.
âI heard meat was goodâ, Mystery perks up from behind Baby, leaving the two demons to look at him in disgust. Where did he get that information from? they thought.
You started laughing at their childish behaviour, drawing their attention back to you. Watching them, especially Baby, getting so worked up over something so silly was adorable. "You guys really don't know anything about taking care of someone, do you?"
They all looked down in embarrassment. Demons didn't get sick the way humans did, and when they did, it usually ended with death, which is why the boys had been so paranoid about your fever. The fear of them losing you and the promise they made to protect you was something that had been haunting them ever since they came to know you.
You turned to Jinu apologetically, âThe fever must've made me lose my appetite", you lied and moved the bowl away from you. Once Jinu realized what you meant, he rushed over to you to remove the tray from your lap.
âI'll make you some tea, that'll helpâ, he says before making his way towards the door.
âNo, sheâs supposed to drink milk!â Baby argued as he followed Jinu out the door, leaving you and Mystery alone together.
The air became slightly awkward after a couple of seconds of silence with him just staring at you from across the room. âSo, did you like your gift?â you ask, hoping to break the uncomfortable tension between the two of you.
You were confused when he started making his way towards you until you noticed the familiar items hanging from his ears. The earrings you had bought for him replaced his usual ones, and upon further inspection you noticed he even wore the rings and bracelet you gave to him. Every piece he wore was a silent confession, a way to show just how much he cared for you.
â(Y/N), are you feeling better now?â he asks, his voice low, whilst prowling closer and closer to you. Oblivious to his sharp gaze, you answered cheerfully, âA lot better thanks to that nap! My head is still a little warm, but it should be fineâ.
âFine?â
Had he not heard you? you thought.
âYup, I'll be fineâ, you repeat, still unaware of the dangerous look in Mysteryâs eyes behind the veil of his hair.
You hadn't even noticed how close he was to you until you suddenly felt a weight atop of you. Mystery had pulled you down on the bed, making you fall into the soft comfort of the pillows. When you looked up to confront Mystery you were taken aback at the sight in front of you. Because of the position you were in, his face directly above yours, you now had a clear vision of his face.
His eyes glowed a gorgeous, almost unnatural shade of violet, which beamed under the darkness of his hair. Above his left eye, you could see a silver piercing along his brow, matching the other ones in his ears.
The way Mystery was looking at you, it was as though he wanted to devour every inch of you. â(Y/N), I'm jealous, so fucking jealousâ, he breathed out, his face inches from yours. âI've not been able to sleep, eat, or breathe without thinking of youâ.
Your body was frozen in place, your mind in a frenzy of confusion and fear. What did he mean? What was he jealous of?
Noticing your curious gaze, Mystery answered for you, âIt should've been me. I should've been the one to take your first kissâ.
At Mysteryâs words, your mind drifted back to what Romance had said.
âYou're just jealous I did it firstâ
Hearing Mystery's words, seeing the look in his eyes, you knew it was true. As much as you wanted to deny it, he was jealous. His eyes burned with desire, a mix of hunger and lust, for you. Just for you.
Although you still couldn't understand why. A lot of things the Saja Boys did confused you, from being overly friendly, to taking care of you, and especially to Romance kissing you.
You could see Mystery's breath become ragged as the memories were brought back to him, âI knew you first, I was there for you firstâ, he pants, bringing his face closer to you. âBut itâs fineâ, he pauses, âeven if I can't be your first, at least I can still have youâ.
He swiftly brought his lips to yours, digging hungrily into the skin of your lips. You could hear the deep moans coming from him with each movement of your mouth. The sensation of being so close to you felt like heaven to him. There was a time when he could only fantasise about this moment, dreaming of it, longing for it, begging to be near you. And now it was real, and it was so much better than heâd ever imagined.
When you finally came to your senses, you tugged at his shoulder to get him to stop, only to be met with sharp teeth biting your lips, forcing a gasp to escape you. That gave him the opening he needed to seal your mouth with his tongue, covering each crevice of it, leaving it completely under his control. You could only shut your eyes and embrace the pleasure you were given.
Soon you felt his lips leave yours, and a wave of disappointment hit you before being thrust back into pleasure when he started kissing down your neck. He started from the top before going further down, almost reaching your collarbone. Once he got tired of kissing, he moved on to biting random spots along your neck, marking and claiming you as his own.
You gripped his hair for support, attempting to control yourself from making any noise that would provoke him any further. Being an idol meant avoiding the opposite gender as much as possible, so youâve never experienced anything like this before, and Mysteryâs eagerness left you too scared to want to take it any further. He was like a starving animal, finally finding its prey.
It felt like hours before he was finally finished, each second unlocking a new feeling within you. Mystery moved your chin, forcing you to look at him, âYou've not done that with anyone else, right?â
Your voice was rendered useless, so you could only respond with a shaky nod. He gave you a wide grin before lying down next to you and spooning you from behind. âI'm so happyâ, he begins, as he wraps his arms around your waist and brings you closer to him, âsharing with the others is a pain, but I'll bear it for youâ.
After a while, you heard the soft rhythm of Mysteryâs breathing and knew heâd fallen asleep.
You were certain your fever had only gotten worse.
âââââââââââââ
âSo, this is your way of destroying the honmoon?â
The members of the Saja Boys stood below the demon king in shame as he mocked them.
Gwi-Ma had known all about the activities that were going on with you and the Saja Boys, and he found it both pitiful and amusing. How could demons like them hope to love a human like you?
Once the honmoon was destroyed, leaving the demons to take over the earth, there would be no place for you, or your âloveâ. You would grow to hate the Saja Boys for taking away everything you care so much about.
âI just don't understand how some random girl is going to help you defeat the hunters. Go on, Jinu, explain it to meâ, he commands, focusing his attention on Jinu.
Each of the members turned to Jinu, all awaiting his response. He looked up at Gwi-Ma, his eyes filled with certainty. âHer soulâ, he says, walking towards the king with confidence, the others looking at him, confused. âItâs the purest soul we've ever seenâ. Jinu turned back to look at the shocked expressions coming from his members, before looking back at Gwi-Ma. âAnd once we consume it, we'll gain enough power to defeat the HUNTR/X easilyâ.
Jinu could hear a gasp coming from behind him, but he continued to look up at the demon king, needing to show just how serious he was about this plan.
Gwi-Ma howled in laughter, enjoying the idea, knowing just how much suffering it would cause the Saja Boys. He couldn't wait for the Idol Awards.
Bzzz đ hey it's still me đđ here's my second request đđđ
Okay so. Stupid idea I giggled about yesterday at 3am. Polysaja x reader, right? And reader is in a silly mood, coming up with names for this strange thing they got going on.
"Ah yes. Just me, myself, and my five lovers. My Herd of Husbands. My Pride of Partners. Make way for my Circle of concubines."
And it just doesn't stop. I have a few more but I think the most ridiculously fitting is the Congregation of Cucks. You're welcome.
Thank you for the request! Your ideas were so funny that i had to use them lol. Here you go!đ
đSaja Boys â The Naming of Boyfriends
-----------------
It started with a perfectly innocent couch sprawl and a few too many metaphors.
You were lying upside down on the couch, feet hooked over the back cushions, head dangling off the edge. Jinu had long since learned not to question your blood circulation decisions, but your wordsâyour words still stopped him cold.
"Me and my Pride of Partners," you said wistfully, eyes unfocused like a noblewoman mourning a war long lost. âMy Loyal Legion. My Brood.â
Jinu froze in place at the kitchen counter. âYour... your what?â
âMy Brood,â you repeated with regal confidence, reaching dramatically toward the ceiling. âBecause truly, what else could I call you five? We nest. We bond. You all look vaguely like you'd kill someone for me.â
Jinu blinked. âIâthank you?â
He tried to walk away, but you kept going.
âMy Fellowship of FiancĂŠs. My Bridal Battalion.â
âYou havenât even proposed to us,â he pointed out, grabbing a cup of tea like that might protect him.
âMinor detail,â you said, still upside down. âThe vibe is there.â
-----------------
And somehow, the delusion only grew stronger when you migrated to the floor with Abby.
The both of you were cuddled under a blanket, your head on his thigh while he meticulously peeled an orange. The TV played in the backgroundâsomething educational about wildlife.
You sat up suddenly. âHey Abby.â
âMmh?â
âIf we were lions,â you said, eyes twinkling, âyouâd totally be part of my pride.â
He paused mid-peel. âLike⌠âPrideâ pride? Of lions?â
You nodded. âExactly. Iâd be the head lioness. The rest of you are like, my hot mates who hang around and fight jackals for me.â
Abby tried very hard not to laugh. âSo Jinu is a lion?â
âJinu is a scruffy desert-dwelling scholar lion. Mysteryâs the spooky one who just appears and disappears. Babyâs the young one trying to fight everything. Romance is the flashy, flirty lion who pretends not to care.â
âAnd me?â
âYouâre the tank. You take down buffalo.â
Abby gave up and laughed, orange slice halfway to his mouth. âYouâre so weird,â he said affectionately. âI love you.â
âI love my Pride,â you declared, arms wide. âMy Fearsome Furries.â
âYouâre banned.â
-----------------
Of course, things escalated further once you had a captive Mystery, who was lying on your lap while you braided his hair, half-dozing, catlike and quiet.
âHey Mystery.â
A soft hum. That was his version of âyes?â
âIâve decided I need a collective noun for all of you.â
Another pause.
âIâve tried herd, flock, pack, squad. But none of them feel right, you know?â
He opened one eye.
You grinned. âHow do you feel about⌠a Congregation of Cucks?â
He stared.
You beamed.
His gaze narrowed.
âI just think itâs funny,â you said, continuing to braid his hair like you hadnât just detonated a verbal bomb. âBecause none of you are cucks, obviously. Except maybe Romance when I flirt with the barista. But itâs the irony that sells it.â
Mystery slowly pulled your blanket over his face and vanished beneath it.
âCome on,â you cooed, tugging the edge. âDonât hide. My Little Cuckling.â
A muffled grunt emerged.
You werenât sure, but it mightâve been laughter.
-----------------
By the time you were in front of the mirror with Romance, the naming spree had developed a dangerous momentum.
He was in the middle of curling your hair when you peeked at him through the mirror.
âHey,â you said sweetly. âQuestion.â
âAnything for you, darling.â He tilted your chin gently to reach a new section.
âWhat do you think of being part of my Reverse Harem?â
He blinked. âI⌠would say that feels fairly accurate.â
You snorted. âNo hesitation?â
He gave you a knowing smile in the mirror. âWell. Iâm beautiful, mysterious, loyal, and dramatic. All the qualifications are met. As long as Iâm the favoriteââ
âI was thinking youâre more like the comic relief,â you said with a straight face.
He stopped mid-curl. âExcuse me?â
âYou know. Every Reverse Harem has the one guy whoâs all charm but no rizz. Thatâs you.â
He dropped the curler.
âYou wound me.â
ââMy Cluster of Clowns,ââ you said dreamily, putting your hand over your heart. âLed by Romance, the Fool King.â
He looked betrayed. But he still kissed your cheek and kept curling.
-----------------
Baby, of course, only fueled the madness when he didnât immediately shut it down.
You were both sitting on the kitchen floor, surrounded by snack wrappers.Â
âIâve been thinking,â you said, mouth full.
âOh no,â Baby muttered.
âMe. Five guys. All vaguely obsessed with me. Itâs basically a cult, right?â
He glanced up. âAre you saying youâre the cult leader?â
âAbsolutely. Iâd look amazing in a long robe. And you all already follow me around like youâre afraid Iâll die if left unattended.â
Baby grinned. âYou would die. You ate expired pudding last week.â
âIt was still jiggly!â
âThatâs not a defense.â
You leaned in close, eyes wide with mock seriousness. âTell me, Brother Baby⌠do you have faith in me?â
He stared. âI canât believe you made me part of your personality-based boyfriend cult.â
âCongregation,â you corrected. âOf Cucks.â
He cackled, nearly snorting marshmallow out his nose.
You leaned back, satisfied. âMy work here is done.â
-----------------
Later that night, you gathered them all in the living room and stood on the coffee table with a notepad.
âAhem,â you began. âAfter much thought, Iâve narrowed it down to the top candidates for our official group title.â
Five demon boyfriends stared at you with varying levels of interest and dread.
You cleared your throat.
âA Pride of Partners.â
âMy Bridal Battalion.â
âThe Reverse Harem Dream Team.â
âThe Brood.â
âThe Fellowship of FiancĂŠs.â
âCircle of Concubines.â
âCluster of Clowns.â
âCongregation of Cucks.â
âPoly Pocket.â (you winked here)
There was a long silence.
Romance applauded you.
Abby held up a sign that just said âplease stop.â
Jinu whispered to himself, âWe need a PR team.â
Mystery vanished halfway through the list.
Baby was already making a banner that said Congregation of Cucks '25: One Braincell, Five Demons, Infinite Problems.
âPerfect,â you said brightly. âUnanimous vote. Welcome to the Congregation.â
TAGS: Saja Boys/Dragoness!reader, romance, fluff, hijinks & shenanigans, world-building
TAGLIST: @satansdaughter123 @babysajano1 @ballads-for-kuni @rubyninja1 @cptg00s3 @snowy-violet @sidus-noctifer
CH1
Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN) ((I post early chapters in my Ko-fi page btw~))
Summary: The last thing you expect upon the shutdown of your favorite game is to wake up in a world that's not your own and in the body of your beloved avatar. What else were you supposed to do aside from beating the demon king, usurping his throne, and taking care of his people?
.
.
.
Manage a demon boyband that was originally formed to steal human souls? Well, it seems that you've got a lot of things to fix, starting with becoming a good manager to your very own group of handsome yet hopeless demon boys.
âWe have to find some other energy source to sustain the demon realm. Preferably, something that wonât put targets on our backs from humans. We already have a bad enough rep with them because of everything you did these past several centuriesââ
â...This lowly one is unworthy of your mercyâŚâ
Jinu blinked once, then twice, and yet the image of the small Gwi-ma in your hand getting smaller in what he could only surmise as shame still didnât disappear. Whatever kind of fever dream this was, it still wasnât ready to release him any time soon.
âSorry isnât going to help us get anywhere. I still have to find some way to extract life energy sustainably, and that means I have to go do some research in the human world.â Flicking your fingers, the purified former demon king is thrown back onto his usual spot.
âIn the meantime, purify any souls that may stray here before sending them on their way. No one is allowed to mess with humans, whether by making deals or taking souls. Is that understood?â
It shouldnât be possible for flames to shiver in fear, but all the demons currently present at that moment would swear that Gwi-maâs flame flickered in what could only be fright.
With bated breath, Jinu could hear blood pounding in his ears as you stepped so close to him that he could pick up your scent amidst the stale, dry air of this once accursed land. He didnât know what he expected, but you smelled like a warm hearth in the middle of winter.
Memories that he had long buried seemed to try and claw their way out from the deepest recesses of his subconscious to remind him once again of his sins as countless images flashed in his mindâs eyeâ
â...rely on you to help me get around topside, okay? And donât worry, I wonât get in the way of your practice. When youâre free, thatâs when weâll do some research, but otherwise Iâll be the one supporting you guys as your manager!â You clapped your hands together as your wings fluttered behind you.
â...Did she just say what I think she just said?â
âEither weâre all having auditory hallucinations from being here so long or she really said thatâŚâ
â...Thereâs no way ALL of us are hallucinating, right?â
The resounding chorus of agreements from the crowd of demons was more than enough proof that none of them had misheard. Everything youâve said thus far has been so absolutely absurd that it was getting harder and harder to accept that this was reality and not some sort of trick Gwi-ma was playing to mess with their heads.
âJust because weâre the bad guys doesnât mean weâre âbadâ guys, right? I believe that thereâs more to each and every one of you.â
The silence that followed was deafening as each demon processed your words.
âGiven the right resources, I know for sure that we can turn the dire circumstances of the demon realm around and become so much more. We donât have to just survive anymoreâŚâÂ
For those demons who had been born and raised in this realm, your words were akin to heresy of the highest order. Whereas those who had been former humans felt that you were giving them some sort of false hope when they had long given up.
As one of the latter, Jinu also shared the same sentiment. HoweverâŚthere was that tiny part of himself that he had buried countless times over, that reached out to him again and again begging for a chance to see the light once more.
And now here you stood, a beacon that had already forcibly lit up this hell from the moment you arrived. But even thatâs not enough, as you sought to pull them all into the light with you.
That they were worthy to share the same bright sky with someone like you.
âPlease put your trust in me,â you bow to them as you say this.
If any of them had any doubts previously, it disappears in the face of your heartfelt humility.
For what is your humility but the very antithesis to Gwi-maâs pride?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At the bottom of the stairs with the rest of the demons, a particular water demon was practically flooding the ground with his tears at your display.
The rest of the Saja Boys could only stare in a mix of wonder and awe, especially now that a new future had been opened to them. Becoming actual idols and having you as their very own manager?Â
content warning(s): reader smokes cigarettes, polysaja x reader, reader (me) is lowkey a brat
A/N: Sometimes I pretend what it's like to have someone who loves me and cares about my health. But then I remember that'll never happen because I'm not dateable (but if I were dating someone and they sat me down to try and get me to stop smoking, I'd do it in a heartbeat). This is essentially a self-insert, but I figured I'd share it anyway. Also, I absolutely live for the boys' bickering. I think this is one of my favourite writings as of late, and that even if YOU don't smoke (don't smoke, period), this is still a super cute read.
You sat in your living room, tucked out of the way. The couch and floor are taken up by the five big bone heads that make up the Saja Boys, who are all currently yelling at one another while playing Mario Kart. You donât even own a switch, and when you asked them why they brought it here to play?
âNo offense, but your place is boring⌠if we leave the switch there, we at least have something to do.â
It doesnât really bother you, the apartment isnât meant to fit five grown men and yourself. Which is why most hangouts donât happen at your place, or at least they didnât until recently. At the end of the day, itâs easiest to chalk it up to them wanting to get out, and your place just so happens to be the best place to get away from work.
The sudden spike in volume breaks you from your daydreaming, and briefly, youâre stuck worried about your poor neighbors. Abby and Baby are both arguing, poised to start throwing hands at any second, while Romance and Jinu are stuck wedging themselves between the two. Romanceâs soft voice reminds them that they arenât at home, their roughhousing will only break something here.
Mystery stands off to the side, and the two of you make eye contact. He shrugged and turned his head back to the TV and started the next round, whether they were ready or not. The countdown caught their attention just in time for at least Abby and Baby to stop bickering and focus on Mario Kart.
The dull throbbing in your head from their bickering never goes away, you love the boys more than anything, but when Abby and Baby get into it, you want nothing more than to throttle both of them.
With their attention drawn back to the game, you quietly got up and grabbed your pack of cigarettes and lighter before carefully stepping onto the balcony, silencing their voices the moment the glass door slid closed.
A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you sit down at the small chair and table, the cool air on your face helping ease the throbbing in your skull. After lighting up a cigarette, you sat there, the muffled bickering turning into background noise while you smoked.
Mystery is the first one to notice youâre gone, the sudden scent of cigarette smoke hitting his nose. His sudden, abrupt movement causes the rest to look at him in confusion, which goes ignored as he shoves Jinuâs face out of the way to get past him and heads straight for the balcony.
The balcony door catches your attention, and before you can even finish your hit, the cigarette is being ripped out of your hand and crumpled in someoneâs hand. âHey! Thatâs hot, shit head!â
âSo thatâs why you smell like cigarette smokeâŚâ Mystery flatly replies, opening his palm and letting you grab the now-smashed cigarette.
âWhy else would I smell like cigarette smoke?â
âSomeone else is smoking around you.â
Your mouth opens and closes a few times, unable to find any words of argument as you drop the crushed cigarette into the ashtray. Another arm reaches out from behind you and yanks the pack of cigarettes before you can even grab them.
âJagiya,â Romanceâs voice is soft, but thereâs a tone of concern in the pet name, âYou smoke?â
You know better than to look at him and stupidly did so anyway, Romanceâs crestfallen expression stabbing you straight in the heart. Mystery certainty wasnât helping, looking like a kicked puppy with his bottom lip slightly sticking out. You grab your chest dramatically and look away, unable to look at them.
âAishâŚâ You wave your hand at the two of them lazily. âYou two worry too much, Iâm not gonna just keel over.â
Romance grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you up from the seat and back into the house, while Mystery grabbed your lighter and ashtray, bringing them back inside. The others watched in confusion as Romance pulled you to the front of the group, blocking the TV and earning a quiet âmoveâ from Baby.
âReally, Romance?â
He watched you cross your arms and mimicked your annoyed stance. âYes, really.â
âSomeone want to explain why your flat ass is blocking the TV?â Baby grumbled.
Romance shot Baby a glare, and somehow thatâs enough for Baby to ease up and take it seriously. âDid any of you know that our little soul was smoking?â
âWhat?â
âSmoking hot.â Someone smacked Abby in the back of the head, âowâ.
Jinu looked at you, confused, until Mystery walked over and showed them the pack of cigarettes like it was a show and tell.
One of them says your name, but youâre too busy trying to sink into the floor, even as you gradually try slipping to the ground. Romanceâs grip on your wrist keeps you on your feet. âIâm a grown adult, ah, older than all of you!â You scolded.
âThen why are you acting like a fussy child, trying to slip out of my hold?â The bitter tone in Romanceâs voice has not just you, but the others flinching as if they were the ones being scolded.
Jinu, ever the angel, comes to your rescue, sort of. âHow long have you been smoking?â
âYou havenât always smelt like cigarette smokeâŚâ Mystery tacked on.
You idly fuss, moving your arm this way and that while Romanceâs hold remains firm. âUh, almost a year?â
âWhy?â
The question makes you blush in embarrassment, Romance tugging you forward when you try to hide behind him. âYouâll laugh at meâŚâ
âJagiya, my soul, we would never laugh. This is a serious discussion.â Romanceâs grip loosens on your wrist, and he takes your hand in his, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
âAiyaâŚâ You sigh and rub your face with your free hand. âBoredom.â
âBoredom?â Baby repeats. âYou dead ass?â
Jinu reaches over Abby and shoves Babyâs head down in a crude apology. âIgnore him. What do you mean by boredom?â
âWell,â you sigh, uncomfortably shifting foot to foot. âIâm not dumb, I know smoking is bad. Itâs not something I do all the time, though I have been smoking more latelyâŚâ
âStress?â Mystery chimes in.
âEugh, donât remind me.â You jokingly wave your hand towards the pack of cigarettes, and Mystery crushes the box in his hand. âMy cigarettes! You!â Romance holds your hand tightly, your leg and free arm flailing at Mystery as an empty threat to kick his ass.
âFocus,â he scolded, his free hand coming up to hold your chin in place. âHave things really been that bad that you turned to smoking?â
Unease bubbles in your chest at the forced eye contact, knowing that all of them were staring at you with varying expressions, no doubt judging you. âI mean, I could be doing worse thingsâŚâ His grip tightens on your chin, and your eyes close. âI donât know what you want to hear! You know how I am! I was offered, said screw it and gave it a try, and figured why not. If it works for others, maybe itâll help me, but it didnât!â
Romanceâs grip loosens enough for you to push yourself away from him. You chew on your bottom lip, immediately drawing blood, and back up enough to sit on the edge of the TV console. âIt hasnât done a damn thing but make me feel sick, frankly, itâs a miracle anyone stupid enough thinks that shit helps.â
âYou thought itâd help.â
âNo, I said I gave it a try to see if it did anything. I never once expected it to actually help me, little shit.â
Baby stuck out his tongue and looked at the now-crushed box of cigarettes in Mysteryâs hand. âHow come you donât taste like cigarettes?â he asked, trying to lighten the mood.
You cringe at his question, looking at him in minor disgust. âExcuse me?â
His eyes roll, but the smirk doesnât disappear. âNot like that, I meant youâre mouth. Kissing, dumbass.â
âOh, uhâŚâ
Romance grabbed the back of your shirt at your attempt to sneak away, as if there werenât four other grown men capable of stopping you. âDonât try and slink off, jagiya. Answer his question.â
âI mean, like I said, I donât smoke that often, and itâs not like Iâm smoking a whole cigarette every time. Itâs just a few puffs, plus I brush my teeth afterwards.â
Jinu stood up, startling everyone briefly as he walked over to you and pulled you into his arms. âI think thatâs enough questions for nowâŚâ Romance and he share a few looks, Jinu shaking his head as he finally pulls back enough to let you stare up at him. âNo more smoking, if you feel like smoking, then tell one of us.â He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear and looked between the others.
Everyone shared a nod before staring expectantly at you. âOkayâŚâ
Tensions in the room still lingered, and in an attempt to lighten the mood, Baby waved his half of the controller around. âAlright, now move your asses out of the way. I wanna get back to kicking Abbyâs ass.â
âI got ahead of you, jackass!â
âOnly because lover boyâs flat ass blocked the TV!â
You didnât need to look up at Romance to know what expression quickly consumed his face, his skin briefly flickering out of the corner of your eye. âIâll show you flat, munchkin.â
Jinu pulled you out of the way and returned to the couch, tugging you along. He ignored your curious expression and sat down. When you did not attempt to move, he pulled you onto his lap and made himself comfortable. Or as comfortable as one could get with three people arguing over a dumb game two meters away.
Mystery threw away the pack of cigarettes before taking Abbyâs spot and sat beside Jinu, pulling your legs up onto his lap. His fingertips idly stroked at your ankle while you melted into Jinuâs hold, an unknown weight leaving your shoulders.
Now, a new weight fell on your shoulders. What on earth were you going to give your neighbors in apology for their loud asses?
Can I request hcs for Saja Boys reacting to his fem s/o telling him that she's flustered when he introduced you as his girlfriend because you never dated anyone else before him please?
OOPSâDID I SAY GIRLFRIEND?
You, flustered beyond repairâ
and all five of them, so stupidly proud to call you theirs.
pairings - Jinu x reader, Abby x reader, Romance x reader, Mystery x reader, Baby x reader.
type - headcannons | 1.2k words
warnings -
JINU SAJA
⢠Jinu doesnât mean to say it out loud. It just⌠slips.
⢠You were standing near the rest of the Saja Boys at a press thing. Someone offhandedly asked who you wereâmanager? stylist?
⢠And Jinu, very quietly, kind of under his breath but still audible, says "Sheâs my⌠girlfriend."
⢠Heâs testing the word out for the first time. Like it still tastes new.
⢠Everyone hears it. YOU hear it. JINU hears himself. Immediate panic.
⢠Tries to casually sip water and ends up drinking from an empty bottle.
⢠Doesnât look at anyone, especially not you.
⢠Heâs mentally screaming: 'WHY DID I SAY THAT? WHY OUT LOUD? WHY HERE? WHY EARTH??'
⢠Meanwhile you're not holding up well either, Face hot. Ears on fire. Your fingers twitch like youâre not sure whether to hold his hand or flee the country.
⢠You whisper, "You canât just say that!"
⢠You nearly trip over your own feet backing away from the attention.
⢠He looks so guilty. So red. "I didnât mean to embarrass you," he mutters, tugging at his sleeve.
⢠You keep glancing at him, then looking away.
⢠backstage, he quickly rushes over to you.
⢠He gestures vaguely toward you. "you're my girlfriend. I think. Are you? I mean, you are, right?"
⢠Then immediately regrets all his choices and stares at the floor.
⢠You try to say something like, "
⢠You surprised me today," but it comes out like "Youâsurprâmeâthingâughh."
⢠You know youâre gonna replay that moment in your head forever. Every time someone says 'girlfriend,' you short-circuit all over again.
ABBY SAJA
⢠He says it SO LOUD. So PROUD. Zero warning. Zero subtlety.
⢠Youâre just hanging out near the Saja Boys, sipping your drink, doing nothing suspicious.
⢠Romance asks innocently, just eyeing you with that fluttering lashes. "Whoâs she?"
⢠And without skipping a beat, Abby grins and boasted "she, is MY girlfriend."
⢠Like itâs the best news heâs ever shared. Like he just won an award.
⢠You spit out your drink. Choke. Stare. Sputter. Make a strange dying-kitten noise.
⢠Youâre blushing so hard it radiates off you like a heatwave.
⢠"What? You are my girlfriend?" He looks genuinely baffled. Did he say something wrong? Did he mess up?? He thought he was being romantic!
⢠"You donât wanna be?" He pouts, already ready to crumble.
⢠You try to pull yourself together, but itâs impossible with the way heâs still looking at you.
⢠hiding behind your hands, trying to pretend youâre not seconds away from melting into a puddle on the floor.
⢠oh he loves it, will definitely use it to tease you.
"Girlfriend," he says again, whispering now.
"My girlfriend."
"My pretty girlfriend."
"My smart, warm, amazingâ"
⢠"ABBY!!" You shove a pillow over his face.
ROMANCE SAJA
⢠The cafĂŠ is small and dreamyâfairy lights in jars, rose-shaped pastries, latte art that looks like swans.
⢠He picks the table by the window, because 'the light hits your eyes better here.'
⢠You share a dessert. One fork. One plate. He insists on feeding you a bite or two, of course.
⢠Youâre already flustered. Like, before he even says anything.
⢠The cafÊ owner comes over to check on you two. "You two are adorable. Are you a couple?"
⢠Youâre about to mumble something incoherent like "Iâuhâweâreâuhâ"
⢠"Yes, and sheâs my girlfriend."
⢠You literally freeze mid-bite. Fork in hand. Mouth slightly open. Brain not responding.
⢠You drop the fork. It clinks. Your eyes shoot to him in absolute panic.
⢠He just calmly sips his rose latte. Like he didnât just drop the most heart-stopping sentence of the week.
⢠He gently pulls your hands away the moment you hid your face, smiling like youâre made of moonlight. "Donât hide. Youâre so pretty like this."
⢠He kisses your knuckles. You let out the tiniest gasp.
⢠Every time you try to speak, your voice comes out in little startled hiccups.
⢠Romance keeps feeding you bites of cake with extra sweetness in his eyes, like heâs rewarding you for surviving the moment
⢠When the server returns, he says it again.
⢠Not for show. Just naturally, like itâs the most obvious truth in the world. "Weâll have one more of those to share. My girlfriend likes this one."
MYSTERY SAJA
⢠Mystery doesnât talk much. Ever. Not in public. Not around the boys. Maybe not even around you, unless itâs quiet.
⢠He prefers to actâholds your wrist when you walk too fast, rests his head on your shoulder when youâre sitting together, steals your hoodie and stares until you take the hint.
⢠So when he brings you into the practice room? No one expects him to say anything.
⢠The boys are stretching, joking, messing around. Abbyâs trying to stack water bottles on his back. Jinu clocks you first, raises an eyebrow like, "You brought your little friend?"
⢠He slides his hand into yours. Glances at the others.
⢠Calm. Blank. Unbothered.
⢠Then says, in that sweet voice. "Sheâs my girlfriend."
⢠The silence is instant.
⢠Baby literally stops mid-stretch and goes, "Youâre kidding."
⢠And you? You forget how to breathe.
⢠Eyes wide. Mouth open. Heart beating like a war drum.
⢠You werenât expecting words. You definitely werenât expecting a title.
⢠The others wonât let it go.
Abby: "Since WHEN???"
Romance: "I KNEW it. The hoodie sharing. The snack feeding. The staring. THE STARING."
Baby: "Tch. You really let Mystery beat you all to dating first. You all disgust me."
⢠His expression doesnât change, but you can feel how proud he is.
⢠Like heâs been thinking it this whole time and finally decided to say it out loud.
BABY SAJA
⢠Babyâs lounging on the couch in the Saja Boys dorm, hoodie half-off one shoulder, hair messy, drink in hand.
⢠Youâre behind the camera at firstâjust helping (aka babysitting). Heâs reading comments, making sarcastic replies, doing little eyebrow wags when people say he looks hot. You snort. Bad move. He hears it.
⢠"Come here." You shake your head, but he's already moving, arm outstretched, grabbing you into frame like a cat with a toy mouse.
⢠You stumble onto the couch beside him, wide-eyed. "B-Baby! Iâm notâ!"
⢠Too late. You are now Live.
⢠Fans are exploding in the chat.
sajadaily._ :WHOâS THAT??
zoeyluvsmystery : SHEâS SO CUTE HELLO??
đ|artists : wait wait WAITâ
⢠Baby grins like heâs in a romcom and youâre the main character he just tripped.
⢠"Everyone say hi toâŚ" he pauses, dramatic, looking right at you. "...my girlfriend."
⢠You go into full ERROR 404 mode. 'WhaâIâIâexcuse meâ!"
⢠Your entire body heats up. You freeze. Your voice squeaks.
⢠The chat goes feral.
⢠He boops your nose while you sit there, mortified, eyes wide, mouth half-open. "Weâve been dating for a while,â he adds casually. âShe steals my hoodies. And my food. And she kicks in her sleep, by the way."
⢠You smack his arm. He gasps, overdramatic. Making that adorable baby face infront of the camera. "Ow!"
Note : my shaylaaaas, i love them sssOOO MUCH and ik yall do too.
Any thoughts on the Saja Boys X protective reader? Like, theyâre normally calm, chill and soft but the minute someone tries to fight or start a problem, theyâre ready and will swing if necessary.
This reader isnât afraid to throw hands and the Saja Boys have to hold them back.
Hopefully I interpreted this right, sorry if not! Genuinely loved writing this tho hehe, I'm not super confrontational myself, so it was fun writing a reader who'll serve up knuckle sandwiches... >:)
(Also cracking up w/ this cover image, I'm just imaging rage-baited reader as the water demon FQJDSKFALS HAHA)
Saja Boys w/ a hot-headed / 'take no shit' reader:
Jinu:
He was used to seeing you carry yourself with a calm and collected composure. You were always nice and friendly to him and others, so he never really thought twice about it.
That is, until the grocery store incident.
You were reaching for the last package of your favorite snackâyour hands were already around it, picking it upâwhen some middle-aged woman snatched it from you, nearly ripping it open in the process. Needless to say, this did not fly with you.
Jinu was stunned to say the least when you snatched the package right back, your expression suddenly confrontational and fierce as you told the woman off.
Things started to escalate when the entitled woman wouldnât back down, and Jinu was jolted into action once the shock of your personality-switch wore off.
Cue him trying to mediate, a little panicked by the stares you all were getting with this public scene. Finally, he just mutters a stiff apology to the woman, dragging youâand the snack you were death-grippingâaway.
Once youâve cooled off a bit, heâll try to lighten the mood, teasing you for being âhangry.â
âRemind me to stay on your good sideâŚâ
Abby:
He genuinely thinks itâs so funny when you get all riled up! Has half a mind to just let you kick whoeverâs sorry ass was foolish enough to tick you off.
Heâll let you go off on anyone, but the moment it starts to look a little hairy, heâs pulling you away before a punch gets thrown. Heâs not about to let things get physical and risk you getting hurt.
Heâs pretty strong, so he has no issue hauling you away even as youâre fighting tooth and nail to go claw your opponentâs eyes out. If youâre particularly feisty, heâll even heft you up on his shoulder to physically carry you out of the fray.
Heâs grinning the whole time though, loves that you can hold your own in an argument.
He trusts you to take care of yourself, but donât expect him to just stand by if some jerk starts messing with you. Heâs intimidating, so youâve got scary dog privilege.
Because heâs an ass, heâll annoy you when heâs bored just so you might snap at him with that fire he loves so much.
Baby:
Heâs fairly indifferent and nonchalant to most things, not really giving much weight to those who might try to set him off kilter. On the contrary, heâs usually the one whoâs getting under peopleâs skin with very little effort, much to his infinite amusement.
Though, despite his affinity for mischief and goading people, he tends to do it less so with you. The perks of him liking you, I guess.
If someone manages to tick you off, he doesnât really bother trying to step inâheâll just watch with mild interest. Heâll only pull you away or intervene if he senses you might get yourself hurt or in some hot water, otherwise heâs content to just let you loose and watch the chaos unfold.
He thinks itâs funny when you give someone a verbal lashingâŚyouâre good at it too!
You could step in and slap a drunk asshole at the bar for harassing some poor girl, and when some panicked stander-by runs up to Baby like âdonât you know them?! Do something!â Babyâll just shrug and be like âeh, the guy kind of deserved it.â
Romance:
He enjoys both sides of your personalityâthe soft and calm parts, and the fierce and aggressive parts. Itâs like fire and rain, and he thinks the contrast is something to admire.
That said, heâs pretty good at avoiding your wrath, and at helping to deescalate things. He can talk you down with practiced ease, and help you decide when a confrontation is worth it or not.
Heâs thankful for this superpower of his, because he definitely worries that you might get in over your head one of these times.
Not that he doubts you canât handle yourselfâŚbut what if you run into the wrong person? The other day, he heard on the news about some road rage that turned fatal. There were crazy people out there!
Heâs plenty content to just listen to you rant with his cheek leaned against his palm, watching your cheeks get rosy with agitation as you recount how your coworker kept acting terrible and getting on your nerves.
After a while, youâll notice that he has this dreamy smile on his face, and itâll catch you off-guard. âWhat?â youâll ask, confused and thrown by the expression.
And heâll smirk and sigh adoringly. âNothing,â heâll say, and then ask you to continue.
Mystery:
He can read your emotions pretty easily without you having to tell him anything. Your body language, your tone, your expressionsâŚhe knows them all, intimately. He also tends to feed off of your emotionsâŚso when youâre calm, heâs calm. When youâre riled up, heâll get riled up too.
Itâs not something he consciously doesâbut heâs attached to you, and this will come with certain peculiar behaviors. He gets protective, so if someone disrupts your peace, heâs quick to go up to bat and defend you.
Deescalation? Huh? Whatâs that?
Heaven forbid you get into an argument with someone, because the second he senses you tensing up, heâs going feral. Growling, hackles raised, physically putting his body between you and the perceived threatâŚ
If your wrath isnât enough to scare off the poor soul, Mysteryâs unhinged behavior in addition is definitely going to have them backing down and turning tail.
His show of solidarity comes from a good place, but heâll usually end up even more agitated than you by the end of it⌠and youâll have to compose yourself and calm down for the both of you.
This can get tiring overtime, since you just want to feel upset sometimes without having to worry about how heâll react.
TAGS: Saja Boys/Dragoness!reader, fluff, drabble
CH2 | Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)
((I post early chapters in my Ko-fi page btw~))
Summary: The last thing you expect upon the shutdown of your favorite game is to wake up in a world that's not your own and in the body of your beloved avatar. What else were you supposed to do aside from beating the demon king, usurping his throne, and taking care of his people?
.
.
.
Manage a demon boyband that was originally formed to steal human souls? Well, it seems that you've got a lot of things to fix, starting with becoming a good manager to your very own group of handsome yet hopeless demon boys.
It started as familiar whispers, and the next thing Jinu knew, he was back in the demon worldâŚor at least what should have been the demon world.
The first thing he noticed was that it was bright. So bright that it was almost as if he was back in the human world during daytime.Â
The second thing he noticed is that Gwi-ma was nowhere to be seen. Rather, someone else stood in his place.
The third thing Jinu realizes is that you are no demon.Â
How can you be a demon when you bear none of the markings? None of your features were remotely similar to this worldâs denizens, and heâd been here for 400 years already!
The two pairs of massive, ivory-colored feathered wings on your back practically dwarfed your own, much smaller form. To him, you looked more like an angel who had lost their way in this desolate wasteland.Â
âYou must be Jinu.â Even your voice was too soft to ever belong to a demon. What sort of luck must you have to end up here of all places?
âSorry for the rough landing, but this one said it was the quickest way to call you hereâŚâ As you raise your hand to him, a white flame flickers to life in your palm, and an all-too-familiar voice comes from it.
âMy apologies, mistress. It is the only way this unworthy one knows how to call on him.â Gwi-maâs unmistakable voice comes from the ball of flames, but it lacked all of its normal malice and arrogance.
âWell, thatâs definitely gonna be one of the things weâll have to change here. So far weâve livened this place up with some good lighting at the very least. Still, itâs a bit tooâŚdesolate for me,â you pouted as you looked at your surroundings, eyebrows furrowing in distaste at the poor state of the demon world. âItâd be good for us to start planting trees and work with the land here. I know I have some seeds that can grow in somewhat uninhabitable environments like thisâŚâ
Jinuâs eyebrows were about to fly off of his forehead with how high they were getting with each odd statement that left your lips. Because what did you even mean by planting trees and other seeds here? This was the demon world, so nothing can possibly grow here!
âMistress, souls incoming!â Exclaimed one of the demons as six balls of light raced towards you from the demon realmâs sky.
Before they could reach you, all six souls stopped barely a foot away from your form. As if you havenât already turned his world upside down already, your next set of actions fully solidified your position as an anomaly in his demonic heart.
With Gwi-ma in one hand, you used your free one to cup all the souls and brought them together. âCleanse away their impurities, then guide them to the spirit realm so they may rest and perhaps enter the reincarnation cycle. Itâs the least they deserve after such an untimely end.â
âBy your will, milady.â
Not just Jinu, but every demon present at that very moment held their breaths as they watched this miracle occur before their eyes. The former demon king, who had been stripped of his authority and miasma, was now willingly preparing souls to cross over to another realm.Â
When those souls rose up in the air again, their color had lightened even further, becoming pure white. Then, they shot up into the sky once more, heading towards a place that no demon could ever follow.Â
Gwi-maâs insatiable hunger for souls had been seemingly tempered, and all that was left was a flame of renewal, of rebirth.
âFrom today onward, the demon realm will no longer feast on mortal souls.â
Change was coming to the demon world, and Jinu didnât know whether it was for the better or worse.
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