Summary: After retiring Leon decides he want to take care of you in every way possible
Tags: Leon x fem reader, fluff, similar age, married couple, mention of reader working at DSO, post requiem
Word count: 2600
After around 30 years of government work could Leon finally get to retire. Something that he had looked forward to in ages. He still couldn't believe that he is nearing his fifties. There was no denying that Leon used to be scared of growing old, but after finding you a couple of years ago he was no longer afraid of the thought.
Watching the two of you getting more grays and wrinkles was something he now looked forward to. You and Leon had met through work, you mostly handling the desk jobs at DSO and Leon of course being the federal agent that he is.
Even though the both of you had pretty different jobs the two of you seemed to always be busy and you had therefore also decided that kids wasn't something for either of you, both enjoying being the cool aunt and uncle with the best gifts.
10 years later and after surviving Raccoon City once again, Leon retired and transformed into your so called "housewife". Now there is no longer any dust collecting in the corners of your house and no more laundry that you so deeply had to force yourself to do. The house was now permanently spotless and everything had its own place.
It's not like Leon didn't help with any of the chores before retiring, but its was hard to help when he wasn't home more than half of the time or deeply tired after his last mission, his muscles too sore to help around.
Leon had always deep down loved the idea of putting together a hot meal for you after you come home from work and you getting greeted to a house smelling like that lime cleaner that he swore was the best of the best. It wasn't necessarily something sexual for him, but just the thought of taking care of you warmed his heart so dearly.
Leon had all of his life sucked at cooking, to the point where he needed your guidance frying an egg or cooking pasta. Because of his job, he had spent a decade of his life relying on the frozen dinners he bought at the supermarket just down the corner.
But after retiring Leon made sure to become the greatest cook of all time, as you claimed. He did that by taking multiple cooking classes each week whenever you were at work. technically it was actually your "designated" chore for around 20 years before he took over, not wanting you to lift a single finger now that he finally had the time to take care of you.
As you walked into your house you were welcomed by the smell of Leon's delicious cooking.
You often teased him and called him your " pretty housewife", even though you both knew that you deep down loved this domesticated version of your husband you thought you'd never see.
After taking off your coat and putting your keys in the bowl by the entrance of your house, you walked over to him and greeted him by wrapping your hands around his midsection and rock from side to side as he did the dishes he used for making dinner, while he rested his cheek on yours while humming along to a song playing on the radio that you reminded you of when you first became a couple 20 years ago.
After so many years of him being by himself and having nothing truly consistent in his life, it was a good feeling for him to get to take care of you every single day. Taking care of you was never something Leon dreaded or had to muster up the energy to do, he would in fact do it with the widest smile on his face.
As you stood there holding him, you felt his cheek vibrate as he said "mmmh hey sweetheart, how has work been?" in his manly deep voice that gave you butterflies even after all of these years together.
You kissed his cheek and gave his bicep a small squeeze while you thought, before saying "good, it had been a pretty chill day since I'm the one responsible of having to train the new employee" as you made your way to sit on top of the kitchen counter, getting a better view of your pretty husband.
Ever since Leon stopped working and even a long time before that, he tried to convince you to retire, not wanting you to stress about unnecessary stuff, since he could easily cover it.
But you loved your job, its wasn't like it was super stressful. And that would you even spend your time on if you retired?
Leon ended up convincing you to get your hours reduced, so you could spend more time together and your job therefore had to find a replacement for your role which you had to train. She was really nice and you made a pretty good job showing her around the DSO building while making small talk, getting to know her a bit better.
"That sounds nice sweetheart" Leon said as he started setting the table "do you mind stirring in the pot real quick?"
You gave him a sweet smile, hopping down the counter to begin stirring the sauce. No matter how long you have known each other your smile would always make his stomach flip and his heart feeling warm with his love for you.
Leon had made your favorite since it basically was a tradition that he would make it every friday which happened to be today. He had made that rule as a way to celebrate that the week was over for you, making it clear that the next couple of days would be all about relaxing and about the two of you.
After putting the last plates and pots on the table, Leon said " Why don't you go sit at the table and get started sweetheart" as he took of his apron off and hung it on the hook right by the counters. You had bought it for him as a joke when you celebrated his retirement with all of your friends, but after a couple of weeks later and he started using it every time he stepped into the kitchen and you loved seeing him in it.
You go sit down at your standard spot, opposite for him, starting to give you both your usual portion of pasta and sauce, giving Leon a bit more than you due to his bigger appetite.
After dinner you and Leon would always go on a little walk before getting ready for bed. You had started doing this after Leon had read that in one of the magazines he had staring reading. They claimed that it was a great way to getting calmed down, get some more exercise and but also to get some better circulation in your body.
These last couple of years you and Leon was starting to feel the both of you getting older by the day, and you had therefore both made the decision to try and live a healthier lifestyle than you both had in your younger days.
You would walk around the neighborhood and talk about anything and everything, but your main topic was usually about you getting updated on your shared friends.
Leon had all of this free time that he wasn't used to, and he had no idea on what to do. It was like he could do anything he wanted to but at the same time he had no idea on what to do. He had multiple times tried to pick up some hobbies but none of them really interested him, and he would therefore result in visiting his friends.
Claire had recently settled down and gotten a child, which Leon would babysit from time to time when Claire had something important to attend to while her fiancé, Micheal, was at work.
Before becoming close with Grace and Emily he always felt awkward around kids, not knowing what to say or do with himself, but ever since he had slowly become more comfortable around them.
He was also very interested in finding out who Chris was currently seeing, almost everyday having a new theory on who the lucky lady might would be.
It was honestly nice to hear Leon talk about other stuff than work or about the next time he had to leave for a mission or training.
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As you finished your usual walk around the neighborhood, Leon put his hand on the small of your back guiding you inside the house before taking off your jacket for you and putting it back where you took it from.
"I'll go draw us a bath if that's alright?" he said as you had taken of your shoes, he gave you a little peck which you gladly returned while you rested your hands on his shoulders and held you around your waist.
"sure, baby, I'll pick out some clothes for us" giving him a kiss before pulling away.
Making your way up the stairs and into the bedroom, before taking 2 of Leon's shirts from the closet, one for you and one for him, and of course one of Leon sleep pants that he insisted on wearing to bed, even in the summer.
Leaving the bedroom and now walking into the bathroom where Leon was standing shirtless, filling up the bath with warm water and mixing it with your vanilla soap.
He had made you both a tea that stood on the side of the bath. The tea helped you both get sleepy for bed. It was the one Leon's old doctor had recommended he could take with some of his prescribed medicine, years ago when he used to struggle a lot with his insomnia. It was a Chamomile tea blended with passionflower, giving off a strong aroma in the bathroom.
After you both got undressed and as Leon got settled in the bath, you couldn't stop starring at him laying there.
You had always loved his toned and muscular body, but after retiring he had toned down the training to three times a week instead of every day due to his very strict program, resulting in him gaining a little more fat on his stomach almost giving him a little tummy bulge where there once were toned abs with very prominent veins around his v line.
You loved seeing this more relaxed version of him, and you adored his body even more now.
"Take a picture, it will last longer" Leon teased and gave you a small chuckle, giving your ass a small smack, now laughing even harder now because of your embarrassed reaction.
"Sorry" you said lowly with a smile on your now blushed face. You know that he loved feeling your eyes on him, but your reaction were purely because of being caught red handed.
As you got into the bath, sitting in front of Leon, he took his arms around your stomach, and pulling you closer into his chest. You exhaled a long sigh. Leon rested his chin on top of your head as you head fell on his broad shoulder, were there was a small scar Leon refused to talk about. From the form of the scar you expected that it was from his job, but not wanting to press Leon about it you have never gotten the story about it, like you had about some of his other scars.
After a few minutes of holding you in silence, letting you let all your muscles relax against him, he began washing your legs with a clean washcloth he had found while you were in the bedroom, slowly making his way up your body, pinching your nipple quickly making a soft chuckle. You swat your hand against his bicep as you feel your cheeks get warm.
You were not new to Leon's teasing, he would in fact do it every chance he could, even in front of your friends or colleagues, but never making it noticeable for any one other than the two of you.
After you both had washed up and as the water got colder and your fingers starts to prune, you both agreed that it was time to go dry up and get ready for bed.
You both started get dressed in Leon's attire, his shirt instantly greeting you with his smell and gracing your bare mid-thigh. Ever since you and Leon moved in together you have always worn Leon's clothing. You loved it, and Leon did so too. He loved knowing that his smell would bring you comfort and a feeling of safety even when he weren't there.
Before moving in together you would always steal multiple of his shirts whenever he had to leave for a mission, rotating which shirt you would wear every couple of days when his smell would wear off and remind you of his absence.
Meanwhile Leon put on his pants you got the toothbrushes ready and started brushing your teeth, soon after Leon joined in, making a silly face in the mirror you almost didn't catch. Leon was a child at heart which was deeply hidden behind his usually brooding presence and stone face.
Bringing out you skincare from the sink drawer, after rinsing and flossing, you began washing your face before layering the different products you used, finishing it all by covering your face with a thick night cream. Leon had watched you for a couple of minutes, waiting for you to be done.
Every night you tried to convince Leon to use some of your moisturizer, but he always refused, claiming that it wasn't necessary since he already had plenty of wrinkles.
You tried to explain to him that cream usually was only used to help the skin from drying out, but he still refused, now claiming that he didn't like the feeling of cream on his face, which you didn't blame him for, understanding the sensory discomfort it could bring out.
Leon was quick to get into his side of the bed after you started putting each bottle back in the drawer. When you finally finished up in the bathroom you walked back into the bedroom, making sure to turn off the light before getting in beside Leon, resting you head on one of his still gigantic bicep that also had veins running all the way down from his hands, while cuddling closer into his chest.
Leon rested one of his arms around you, while breathing in your smell of shampoo and conditioner from your hair. After some slow minutes of Leon watching your face becoming more relaxed resulting in many of your wrinkles getting smoother, and how you get that little pout as you would reach REM, also feeling his own eyelids grow heavier with every breath he took before falling asleep with you safe in his arms.
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This is so basic, boring and prob ooc, but oh well lmao
But i was honestly thinking about making a part 2 where they maybe babysit Emily or Claire's child?
Prompt: June 6th - Therefore I Am - Billie Eilish / “I don't think I caught your name”
Character: Leon Kennedy
I know it’s short but please let me know your thoughts and reblog. Also, would love to discuss any ideas these little snippets inspire!
Love you! 💞
"Sir!" You call out as you stand up. "Hey! You dropped some... Thing."
You look down at the chain in your hand. The charm is a piece of jagged jade. Sharp but smooth.
"Sir?" You follow the man down the street as he stomps on.
You catch up and touch his sleeve. He flinches and turns. It's only as he sways and the scent of alcohol wafts from his leather jacket that you realise he's drunk. No wonder he didn't notice.
"You... Dropped this." You hold out the necklace.
He looks at the piece of jade and his lip curls. "Good riddance." He growls.
"Oh um..." You murmur, surprised at his reaction.
He sighs and drops his shoulders. His green eyes are sleepy. Even sad.
"Don't worry about it." He snatches it and you let go of the chain. "Thanks."
You nod, "you're welcome."
You back up and turn around. He clears his throat.
"Hey...I don't think I caught your name." He says.
Genre- emotional, fluff, fantasy? Drabble? Bittersweet, Random thoughts huhu, idk maybe an au where you are not real; and neither he is, and you two always meet in a dream, I am so tried but hey I wanted to deliver this, it might not even be good bwhahah, grammatical error or just badly written idk.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
You were the dream; leon didnt know or learnt how to wake up from, or you became something he never wanted to end.
sure at times, he remembered you clearly, sometimes your eyes, sometimes your soft voice, how you tilted your head at him; like a golden retriever puppy, or sometimes you were the warmth that resided in him: but as long as it was dark or night, because that was the only time you were real.
Cruel, wasnt it?
But fate usually is.
He remembered how sometimes you were just there, listening to him, looking into his eyes, talking to him, holding him, and every damn time he had a dream like that, he would wake up drenched in sweat.
And one thing always stayed the same after those dreams: it hurt the same, sometimes even more, like there was a void inside him that kept growing, and the only thing that ever seemed to seal it shut, even briefly, was closing his eyes and seeing you again.
That was only when that abyss inside his chest would be satisfied.
He always remember after you fade into the back of his mind, your voice a distant echo, tears falling down his cheeks, a chest so damn tight as if he experiences a grief of something he never had. And that was the only truth, he never had you.
because again you weren't real atleast not in the way he wanted you to be.
Yet; he formed a kind of bond with you that was impossible to ignore.
And like an addict drawn to his only source of relief, he kept coming back to you. Every damn night, he looked forward to meeting you again.
Because sleep was the only place he could find you, the only place where he could be with you, and everytime you helped him in ways reality never could.
And tonight was one like that too, he was tired, angry, and hurt, after something bad at work, another fight with his superiors leaving him agitated.
And you were part of his frustration too, because he hated that you were just a dream, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not have you; he could not even tell anyone that he was in love.
Because what he would even say? That he is in love with someone who is a dream. It sounded ridiculous. Even in his own mind.
And everytime he thought about it; they left a bitter taste on his tongue.
But still it was also the only truth; only piece of dream he could hold onto, because in the end?
It led him to you.
Though he could not deny it—loving a dream felt like a divine punishment, a cruel one at that. And yet, he still wanted every lash of it, because you were the result of it.
And tonight he didn’t want to sleep, nor did he want to see the one person he wanted the most--yet he did it anyway. “I shouldn’t... do this,” he muttered as he lay down.
sleep came regardless, not because he wanted it to, but because his body refused to listen; it craved you like a madness he couldn’t control.
And just like that, he slipped into that numb state, into a world that felt painfully familiar yet far too different at the same time.
When he opened his eyes, he was back in that familiar room, the familiar scent of you lingering in the air, now etched permanently into his memories.
And just like that there you were again, sitting on your bed; giving him that sweet smile you always did.
And seeing Leon, you slowly stood up from your place, finally making your way toward him but to your surprise, he stepped back before you could even close the distance.
"Stop." Leon said firmly, though his jaw was clenched tightly; his fingers curling into fists at his sides.
You knew he was different today.
Leon knew it too.
Because tonight? Leon was tired of it all; and he wanted to confront you, because that was the only way to get some answers.
“Leon… are you okay?” you asked, your voice laced with concern. Though it only seemed to unsettle him further, whether it was anger or something deeper, hurt he refused to name.
"Stop doing this..." leon said finally, running a hand through his hairs.
"Stop doing what?" you asked; though confusion was etched at every line on your face.
“Pretend… that you’re real,” Leon swallowed, then a moment later let out a bitter laugh. “Because it hurts.”
Your expression softened, instantly, and you murmur, "Leon…”
“No.” His voice sharpened, like his composure was hanging by the thread, “Don’t do that.”
As he said it; he finally sank to his knees, like a man who just gave up on living, and your heart clenched at the sight of him like that and without thinking.
you were there in an instant, reaching for him. But this time, he didn’t stop you. Tears gathered in his eyes, and he hated it Leon had never liked being vulnerable, but here he was, breaking in a place where dreams made distance meaningless, and yet still made it feel painfully real.
“I wake up every time,” his voice breaks at the edges, “Every. single. time." A hesitant pause. "And you’re still not there.”
"You are not real," Leon said, shaking his head. But you shifted in front of him, lifting your hands to gently cradle his face in your palms, your eyes meeting his as you held his gaze. He looked down at the floor for a moment before slowly meeting your eyes again, a vulnerability in his expression that he hated showing to anyone.
"I am real to you, and you are real to me, Leon." You said feeling your throat bobbing up and down with emotions.
“That’s not enough,” his voice came out cracked, breaking as his tears finally fell down his cheeks. Your heart broke again; at the sight, shattering itself in million small pieces, and you gently wiped them away with your thumb, feeling your own tears forming and slowly slipping down as well.
"I can't control it, leon."
“And that’s the part that hurt me the most,” he said, looking dejected as he continued. You didn’t interrupt him, you just let him speak, and both of you now a mess of tears as your breathing turned uneven and your vision blurred.
“I keep coming back to you anyway,” his voice dropped, rougher now. “Every night, I look forward to it… and then I wake up and try to act like I’m not insane for doing it.”
“You are not insane, Leon,” you said gently, trying to hold onto whatever composure you had left.
“I hate waking up,” he admitted, ignoring your words. “Because I remember you’re not mine to keep, and it twists like a blade inside my ribs—and yet I keep pushing it deeper.” He was breathing harder now, his voice breaking even further. “I want you to be real…”
"You know thats not possible" you said swallowing hard as his intense gaze burns inside you.
“I know,” he said, his eyes stinging from all the crying he had done; and he held you closer to him, his grip tightening as if he was afraid you might disappear. He swallowed again, struggling to steady his breath. “But I don’t know if I could survive it anymore,” he admitted quietly, resting his forehead against yours as his voice broke at the edges.
"Wanna know something, leon?" You said.
"Yes.." leon hummed.
“I can only see you when I dream too,” you whispered, your voice breaking completely. “So it’s both of us…"
After you said it silence swallowed the room. Leon stared at you like his brain had finally stopped protecting him from hope. "What?” his eyes widened.
You laughed weakly through tears, wiping your face like it would fix anything. “It’s not just you,” you whispered. “I wake up and you’re gone too. Every time. I just… forget faster.”
Strange, isn’t it? Leon thought to himself, how two people who didn’t even know each other could still love one another so deeply, with no hope of ever truly being together. But your words pulled him back out of his thoughts.
“I thought I was going crazy,” you admitted. “I thought I was making you up because I missed someone I never even had.”
“That doesn’t make sense…” Leon murmured, his grip loosening on you as he stepped back and slowly rose from the floor. Your chest sank in disappointment, but you simply nodded to yourself before steadying yourself and standing up as well.
"I know, its crazy but I only remember feelings, you." You continued, "But I stopped making sense of it, because as long as I get to see you thats enough for me."
His breathe finally steadies as he realizes it isnt just him. It happened with you too. And the way you held yourself as you admitted that... you were braver than him.
Or maybe you accepted a reality where he wasnt real.
But he knew had to as well but how could he? Because any reality without you isnt a reality at all.
Its just a delusion Leon and you have to carry.
He let out a shaky breath, then gave a small, watery laugh. “So what does that make us?” he asked.
Your lips trembled. “I don’t know,” you whispered. “Maybe we’re just… stuck in each other’s dream.”
Another broken laugh escaped him. “Sounds cruel.”
“It is.” you confirmed.
Silence fell after; absolute, pin-drop silence. Then Leon let out another bitter laugh, low and broken, before stepping toward you. In just a few strides, he was in front of you again, stopping so close it felt like there was no space left between you at all.
“If I wake up this time…” he said carefully, “will you still be there?”
You shook your head slowly. "No.”
Leon nodded slowly, his fingers hovering over your jaw, his touch hesitant, like even brushing you properly might make you disappear.
“But—” you added quickly closing whatever distance has left between you both, your voice softer but certain. “I will come back when you sleep.”
And you finally leaned into his touch. Leon’s hands settled fully on your cheeks, cradling your face carefully in his palms as if you were something fragile he’d been afraid to hold too tightly.
His gaze softened, and his voice came out barely above a whisper. “You’re so warm,” he said.
"You are too."
Leon breathed sharply before removing his hands from your face and reaching for your hands instead, as though he was afraid the world itself might reject the idea of you.
His fingers brushed against yours hesitantly, careful--almost reverent, as if even that small contact needed permission to exist.
And for the first time, neither of you argued with reality. Because there wasn’t one that made sense anymore.
And there was only one reality; that was real for you, now, and it was, this.
Now as you stood in solace gazing in each other’s eyes, only the space remained between you and him; where you sleep and wake up where you kept finding each other again and again.
Leon closed his eyes briefly. “If this is a dream,” he said softly, “don’t wake me up yet.”
You squeezed his hand tighter. “I won’t,” you whispered.
And just like that, you were together; if not in reality, then in dreams that held you both like angels stepping on clouds, soft and fleeting, yet the only place you truly found each other.
plot: reader is feeling depressed so she texts leon asking him to come over
It's gotten bad again. You sent your boyfriend a text: "Baby, can you come over?" He responded immediately, as if he was waiting for you to text. "On my way."
15 minutes later, the doorbell rang. He lived close but not too close. Gosh, did he overspeed? You opened the door, hair messy, eyebags, overworn pajamas. He stood there, slightly out of breath, eyes soft and searching your face.
He gently pulled you into a hug. "My angel…" he kissed your cheek while rubbing your head. You couldn't help but tear up. He hugged you tighter. "Shh. I'm here. It's okay." He always comforts you because he can't stand seeing you like this.
You went into your bed with him. He pulled you closer, wrapping himself around you like the safest place in the world, peppering your shoulders with kisses. Your head rested on his chest, breathing in his cologne. "We'll stay like this for a while, then I'll wash your hair, make you dinner, and we're gonna watch whatever you want. Okay?" He kissed your head softly, his lips lingering just a moment longer.
"Okay." You said quietly. Your tears slowed down at his words. Then you tilted your head up to look at him. "I love you." That's all you said. And that was all he needed.
"I love you more, angel." He gave a small, lingering, soft kiss on your lips while tucking your messy hair behind your ear. "I'll always be there for you. You're my everything. Never forget that.” He pulled back, brushing your cheekbone with his thumb, then your lips, sensing you.
You nodded at him, then tucked your head back into his chest, breathing him in, feeling the steady warmth of him. It was safe. "There you go." He rubbed your back softly.
“Roost to Condor One and Condor Two.” Hunnigan said in my ear piece. “I’ve identified a route to the lake. Look for a large windmill. There’s a path on the far side of it.” She instructed. “Windmill. Copy that.” Leon said. “And be careful. Roost out.” Hunnigan said before hanging up.
I walk over to the burnt wooden sigil, gazing at the charred body of the officer. “These people are sick.” I sneered as I give a look of pity to the deceased officer. Leon places a comforting hand on my back and I look over at him then looked down for a moment of silence.
“C’mon, let’s go.” He said and I nodded before we headed off to a path on the left of the church. Pushing past a large gate, we followed the path to another section of the village, including the large windmill.
”There it is.” Leon said as he looks up at the windmill. “One step closer.” I said and we continue on to what looks like the more upper class of the village as there were larger houses with a barn and a few farm animals.
We headed towards the windmill and saw a gate blocking off the pathway we needed to go. “Course, that’d be too easy.” I grumbled, rolling my eyes. We head up a ladder and found a lever, which Leon pulls and opens the gate.
We headed back down and walk through the opened gate. “I’ve been meaning to ask. How’s Jill doing?” Leon asked me as we begin walking across a bridge. “She’s good. She’s actually with Chris right now trying to find Oswell Spencer.” I said. “The C.E.O of Umbrella?” Leon asked and I nodded.
”I thought he was dead.” Leon said. “From what she told me, they think that was just a cover up. So they’re searching through every clue they can get to make that bastard pay for what happened to Raccoon City.” I said as we come upon a stone archway with a loaded wagon blocking it.
Together we push the wagon out of the way and walk through it before I spoke again. ”And you wanna know something? She didn’t want me to go on this mission.” I said and Leon gives me a quizzical look. “Why’s that?” He asked me and I shrugged.
“I guess she’s just being the protective older sister. I told her I was going on this mission whether she liked it or not.” I said. “Why didn’t you stay back?” He asked me and I chuckled. “And leave you here with all of the fun? No way. Besides, you of all people know I can handle myself.” I said and Leon starts to laugh alittle. “Yeah, I know.” He said as we continued on.
We ran into some problems here and there, getting ambushed by the villagers as they would pop out of nowhere and attack us. But luckily, Leon and I took them down with ease until we come upon a large cabin by the lake. “This the place?” Leon asked and I shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt to check it out.” I said as we heard loud banging coming from inside.
We enter the cabin and follow the noise to the back, where a man was hitting his hammer on the ground. He stops and turns to us right before Leon shoots him in the head. Walking over to the dead guy, we saw he was hammering planks over a trapdoor. So we remove the planks and lift the door open to drop down into the darkness.
We pull out our flashlights and walk along the path until we heard some rustling. Turning a corner, we saw a large sack bag was moving. Leon unties the rope at the top and pushes it down, revealing to be a man with long dark hair, tan skin and tape over his mouth. I rip the tape off of his mouth and he groans in pain.
”That hurts, you know?” He remarked, with a Hispanic accent. “Seemed like you really wanted to talk.” I said. “How observant, señorita. Now, say — you got a smoke?” The man asked. “You know, those things will kill ya.” Leon said. “Oh, well, maybe just untie me then?” The man asked and he starts to struggle but stops, his eyes looks past us as a look of horror appears on his face. “¡Joder! Not this guy!” He exclaims and we heard loud footsteps behind us, which made my heart drop.
Leon and I turn around to see a tall man with gray skin, a long beard and wearing a long black cloak and a hat. “Who are you?” Leon asked the newcomer. The large man starts to walk towards us, so Leon and I pull out our guns, aiming at him. “Stop right there!” I shout but the guy slaps our lights and weapons out of our hands then grabbed the two of us and tossed us at some crates.
I groaned from the impact and I started to feel dazed. I tried to fight the drowsiness but I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness. But before I was completely gone, I saw the man coming towards us with two syringes in his hands.
*3rd Person POV*
Sacrificial lamb.
You will receive our most sacred body.
It begins now.
Leon startles awake from a vision of a hooded man. Getting his bearings, he finds himself stripped of his jacket and in a completely different room with his hands handcuffed and chained above his head. “What the fuck?” He mutters and pulls on the chain. “Hey, stop it!” Another voice said and Leon looks over his shoulder to see it was the man he and (y/n) found tied up.
“Oye, Yanqui, got a name?” The man asked him as Leon turns around and tries to find ways to out of this predicament. “Leon.” He replied, plainly. “Quiet type, eh? I’m Luis Serra. I guess — you, me and the señorita you were with — picked the wrong spot to vacation, eh?” Luis asked as Leon looks around the room, noticing (y/n) was absent.
“Where is she?” Leon asked him. “They took her into another room. That’s all I know.” Luis replied, causing Leon’s heart to drop at this. Becoming anxious to find (y/n), he started yanking on the chain, which cause Luis to move forward a bit. “Hey, stop it! You move, I move…and I’m beat up enough as it is!” Luis exclaimed while Leon looks up and notices a pulley system which didn’t look very secure. He tugs on the chains again and saw it wobble.
”I can see your thinking.” Luis said as Leon turns away and pulls on the chain some more. “Bet you’ve been in spots like this before. My guess…you and your partner are here looking for someone?” Luis asked but Leon ignores him, continuing to pull on the chain to break them free. “One more guess. Maybe…some missing señorita?” Luis asked and this makes Leon pause.
He turns to Luis. “A young girl?” He asked then he yanks the chain, pulling Luis closer to him. “Talk. Now.” Leon demanded. “All right. See, heard chatter about moving a señorita.” Luis said. “Moving her. Where?” Leon asked him. “Who knows? But later, saw some men dragging someone…to the old church.” Luis said while Leon yanks on the chain a few more times and breaks the pulley, causing Luis to fall on his back.
”Mierda…” He groans and gets back on his feet. “Hanging with you? Not healthy —“ Luis said when one of the villagers comes up behind him. Leon jerks the chain, pulling Luis out of the way just in time before the villager could stab him with his scythe. Luis rolls away while Leon gathers up some of the chain and wraps his around his left hand, then picks up the chain and whips the man in the face.
Leon runs up to the villager and wraps the chain around his neck then yanks it, choking him. He tries to attack Luis and Leon but they were too far out of the man’s reach as Luis pulls back to make the chain tighter. Leon then raises his right leg and slams his knee against the chain, bringing it down on the ground and breaking the man’s neck.
The villager drops to the floor and Luis was jerked forward by the chain. He then starts to dig in the man’s pockets until he found the key to free himself. “Hey, we’re not done here!” Leon shouts as he starts to walk up to Luis, who backs away and raises his arms out. “Later, amigo!” Luis said, smiling, and tosses the key aside as he leaves. Leon glares after him then runs to pick up the key and unlock his cuffs.
Gotta find (y/n). He thought then he noticed his weapons were gone. Shit. They took my gear. He thought, annoyed, and he goes up to a table to see a knife at the table and grabs it. “Hang on, (y/n). I’m coming.” He whispers, leaving the room.
*(y/n)’s POV*
I startle awake after having this weird dream, or vision, of this hooded man with glowing eyes and became more alert when I realized my arms were raised above my head. My hands were cuffed and attached to a chain that had me hanging a few feet in the air, my feet barely touching the floor. I took in my surroundings and noticed I was in a small cell-like room, and there was no sight of Leon or even that guy we found.
“Fuck.” I whispered and I try to think of anyway to escape but there was nothing to work with, only the crank that had control of my chains which of course I couldn’t get to. My shoulders… I groan to myself as I felt my shoulder tense up from being raised for however long it has been. Then I hear some commotion and I look up to see the cell door open and a couple of the villagers walk in.
”Shit!” I shouted, raising my right leg up to kicked one guy in the face, knocking him back. The second guy started to run at me and I bring both of my legs up this time, both feet hitting him in the chest as I kick into the wall. The first guy gets up and comes at me again, so I raise my legs up and wrap them around his neck.
He tries to swing his knife at me but I did my best to dodge the slashes as I squeeze my thighs tighter and tighter around his neck to choke him. That’s when the second villager starts to come to and get up. “Seriously?! Wait your turn!” I shouted annoyed, as I continue to suffocate the man around my legs.
But then Leon pops up behind the guy and stabs him in the neck while I jerk my legs to break the other guys neck. I unwrap my legs and the guy falls over dead, as I let out a sigh and look over at Leon. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.” I flirted. “You okay?” Leon asked as he goes over to the crank. “Yeah, never better.” I said as he moves the crank to lower me down on ground, landing on my feet.
I pull my arms down in front of me and felt a soreness in my shoulder. Gonna be feeling that later. I thought as Leon comes over, pulling out a key from his pocket to unlock my cuffs. “You know when I said I want some wild adventures in our relationship, this isn’t what I meant.” I teased, gesturing to the chains, and he scoffs out a small laugh. “I’ll try to remember that.” He said as I remove the cuffs, rubbing my wrists.
I look up at him, gazing at the face that I was afraid for a moment of losing, before I hugged him and he wraps his strong arms around me in returned. “I’m glad you’re okay.” I said. “Glad you’re okay too.” He said and we pull back alittle to look at each other before he leans in and kisses me, lightly, on the lips. “Some first date, huh?” I asked when we broke the kiss. “Some first date.” He echoed and takes my hand as we leave the cell.
“Condor One and Two to Roost. I’ve located Baby Eagle.” Leon reported to Hunnigan and I raise an eyebrow at him. “It sounds like she’s being kept in some church.” Leon added. “Great! That’s good news.” Hunnigan said. “I heard it from this guy we met. Said his name is Luis Serra. There’s something fishy about him. I need you run a background check.” Leon said. “Wilco, Condor One. I’ll see what I can find. In the meantime, make your way to that church.” Hunnigan said. “Right. I’m probably due for a confession anyway.” Leon jokes and I snort a laugh. “Condor One and Two out.” Leon said and he ends the call.
”Luis Serra?” I asked. “Yeah, our friend that was in the bag.” Leon said and I nod as we navigate through this old factory. Then we come upon a large hole in the wall and saw a table with our weapons on it. “Hey, there’s our gear.” I said and we made our way around to that room.
Unfortunately the door that lead to our gear couldn’t be opened. “Looks like we need to find a lever.” Leon said. “Okay...” I said and I look through the door to see another door at the other side that was bolted shut. “I bet its on the other side. If you could open this door, I can unlock the other one to let you in.” I said. “Got it.” He said and makes his way over.
Couple minutes later, I saw Leon on the other side. “Okay…here it goes.” He said and I saw him turning the lever and the door in front of me lifts opens. I quickly made my way inside and he lets go of the lever, shutting the door behind me. I open unlock the other door for him and we gear up.
We walk out of the room and come upon a large metal door that seemed to be locked. “Fuck…I guess we...” Leon started to say but then we hear a loud buzz sound and through the bars of the door, we saw a hooded, masked man, with a backpack on his back. “Over here, strangers.” The man said, in a strong cockney accent, and he walks away. “Who’s that?” Leon asked. “New friend, maybe?” I said, shrugging, and we walk through the door.
“Unfortunately the gate you need to get to can’t be opened.” The strange man tells us. “Okay…? Why even bother…?” Leon started to ask by the man speaks. “Fortunately for you two, I have the emblem to open it right here.” The man said, pulling out an Hexagonal emblem out of his backpack.
”What’s the catch?” I asked the man, suspiciously. “No catch. Free of charge, dear lady.” The man said as he hands me the emblem, which had an emblem of a bird on one side. “Why help us?” Leon asked him. “I’m just a helpful man, stranger.” The strange man said then he begins to walk away. “Wait! What’s your name?” I called out but the man walked around a large tree and disappears.
“Huh?” I said and Leon hums. “Well, that was weird.” Leon said and I shrug. “I kinda liked him.” I said and Leon chuckles, lightly. “Yeah, you would like him.” He said, heading for the gate the man told us about. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked him, walking up behind him. “Just that you like weirdos.” He said. “Are you calling yourself a weirdo now?” I asked and he gives me a look of disapproval and I giggled as I put the emblem into the indentation on the wall by the gate.
A small lever pops up and I grab it, turning it to open the gate for us. “After you.” I said to Leon and he scoffs. “Gee thanks.” He said and I chuckle as we head through the gate.
After walking down yet another path and taking out some villagers, we come upon this large house with a large locked gate nearby. We figured a key was nearby, so we enter through the large door of the house. Inside, revealed a large dining room with a small kitchen on the left and a doorway to the hall next to it and another one across from us.
“Not too shabby. Someone is showing up their neighbors.” Leon remarks as we walk around the room for any type of clues to where this church is. We then headed up stairs and come upon a large door at the end of the hall. Going inside, it looked to be the master bedroom.
We look around and I notice a large painting of a man with a hood that was concealing half of his face. His robes almost looked like a priest’s robe with the silver lines and a large gold cross hanging off his sash belt. But what took me by surprise was that he looked exactly like the man in my vision.
”Found a key.” Leon said and I look over to see him holding up a key that was oddly shaped like a dragonfly. “Okay, that’s something.” I said and we turned back to the door, Leon walking in front of me, only to be greeted by the large bearded man again. Both of us jump at this and fire our guns at him, but it was like they were having zero effect on him as he entered the room then kicked Leon who flies back and hits me.
Both of us hit the ground and we scramble to get up but the man grabs us by the neck, his right hand on Leon’s neck and his left hand on mine as he raises us up in the air, walking towards the window. We struggle and fight against his grip as he looks us in our eyes then a small smile appears on his lips.
”Your blood has accepted the Gift.” The man said as he continue holding us up. Then several gunshots sounded out, distracting the man and he tossed the two of us aside. Leon and I cough and gag while the man looked out the broken window then leaves the room without another word, like we weren’t even in the room anymore.
”Gift…in our blood?” Leon asked before he and I shared a look. I don’t know what the guy meant but I know one thing: that doesn’t sound good.
Genre : fluff, yearner leon, soft leon, blood, Idk, romance, HEA, long chapter, angst? Hehe
Summary : This was supposed to be an easy assignment. Just another mission with you; his one sided crush: it was supposed to go like -- kill zombies, gather information, go back to hq and all done. At least, that's what Leon thought was supposed to happen.
But when unexpectedly Leon gets hurt and the moment he lay there, fatally injured, feeling his strength slipping away; none of it mattered anymore.
Because in those final moments, all he could think about was you. And the love he had carried in silence for years.
WC - 6.5k
Note : English ISNT my native language; so expect grammatical errors, spelling mistake; or sentence issues, this is my second request! And I really had fun writing it, thank you anon for your request!
Doing this oneshot, based on this request, thank you for giving me such a wonderful idea, anon. Expect mistakes and badly written stuff 🥲
Leon checked his phone for what felt like the millionth time, only to find it was still 3:47 a.m. He groaned loudly and threw his phone beside him, and felt already exhausted despite not having done anything.
Because he was supposed to be asleep by now and wake up around 6 am, for the mission, leave his apartment by 7 a.m. and reach the assigned location by 8 a.m. sharp.
Yet as he lay in bed with his back pressed against the mattress and his phone abandoned beside his pillow, all he could do was watch the minutes crawl by at an agonizing pace.
Damn it.
Because for Leon, this wasn't just another mission. It was more than that. It was a mission with you as his partner, his one-sided love. And God, right now he felt like some fourteen-year-old kid waiting for the next day so he could go on a picnic date with his crush.
Except it wasn't a date.
Hell, it wasn't even close to one.
It was just a routine mission that happened to be assigned to both of you.
Which rarely happened, much to Leon's disappointment, and he never had the guts to ask why.
Instead, he pretended it didn't bother him. Pretended he didn't look forward to every mission with you a little too much.
Pretended he wasn't secretly checking assignment lists in hopes of seeing your name beside his. But every time it happened, every time the two of you were paired together, Leon found himself looking forward to the mission far more than he should have.
And the fact that a twenty-seven-year-old man was acting like this.. was honestly embarrassing, but what else was he supposed to do?
But for six long years, Leon had been acting like this pathetic idiot whenever it came to you.
With a long, tired sigh, he finally sat up in one fluid motion, the bedsheets shifting with him as he settled at the edge of the bed. Resting his elbows on his knees, and slowly he buried his face in his hands for a moment before rubbing them down his features.
But then a thought tugged at him. Maybe he could at least make himself a coffee or two and get ready early. It wasn't like he was getting any more sleep anyway.
So, without wasting another second, he pushed himself out of bed and wandered around his apartment, trying to keep himself occupied. Yet no matter what he did, the same thought crept into his mind again and again.
It wasn't his fault.
Not really.
.
.
.
Because six years ago, you had walked into the DSO office, and the moment you did, Leon's met your gaze and his breath had caught in his throat.
Sure, you were gorgeous, that was one of the things about you; but as time passed, he realized you were so much more than that.
You were kind, generous, caring, your clumsiness was adorable, you were always willing to help someone, always willing to go out of your way for others.
God, Leon could barely get a sentence out around you for nearly two years, and it was only after you kept talking to him anyway that he finally managed to relax enough to hold an actual conversation.
Then it turned from simple admiration into something far more dangerous. At first, it was simple things like how hardworking you were, how ambitious you were, how you were always the first person willing to help during a mission.
Then it became the smaller things. The way you tilted your head when you were thinking. The way your nose scrunched whenever something annoyed you. The way your eyes closed completely when you laughed from the heart.
The way your smile showed every single one of your teeth without a trace of self-consciousness. The way you clicked your pen repeatedly whenever you were nervous. The ridiculous amount of whipped cream you insisted on putting in your coffee. The way you gave your full attention to whoever you were speaking to using your hands and body.
Honestly, the list was endless, and if he started talking about everything about you every little thing you did, it would take months to complete it, and even then it still wouldn’t feel enough. He wasn’t even exaggerating at this point; there was simply too much about you to ever fully put into words.
Hell, if he had to tell the deepest darkest secret truth he held in his heart..?
That most of the times even watching you talk to Carlos sometimes made something painful tighten inside Leon's chest.
And that was how bad it had gotten.
Yet he still kept his distance. Because something inside him wasn't ready not for this, not for whatever feelings you brought out of him. Or maybe it was just cowardice, Leon didn't know anymore but maybe just pretended not to.
So for six long years he did the same thing: noticed you, admired you, stayed polite, and never crossed a single boundary.
Even if, sometimes, having that boundary crossed was all he had ever wanted.
And overtime he told himself it was enough to see you smile at him. Enough to stand beside you. Because there were things in his life, things he had seen that made him reluctant to drag you into whatever mud he was buried in.
The truth was that he couldn't do that to you.
And yet, if it were for you, or even without you asking a single thing of him, Leon knew he would walk through hell itself without hesitation.
Those thoughts followed him as he took a quick shower and brushed his teeth. Since he was already awake, he figured he might as well make use of the extra time. Eventually, as he wanted before, he made himself a coffee and settled into what had quietly become a ritual over the years.
Sitting on the edge of his bed with a warm mug cradled in one hand, Leon unlocked his phone and opened the folder he never let himself think too hard about. It was filled with photographs of you collected over the years, some taken during team celebrations, some during missions, some where you stood beside him smiling, and others where you had no idea the camera had ever been pointed your way.
It probably would've looked creepy to anyone else. Maybe it was.
But Leon couldn't bring himself to care, because somehow, that was how six years had passed for Leon: stealing little moments, collecting small memories, and convincing himself they were enough, hearing your voice over comms was enough.
And maybe it should have been.
But they were not, not really.
Still some nights, when the apartment was too quiet and the loneliness settled too heavily in his chest, Leon found himself wishing for things he had no right to want.
Things as simple as seeing your name on his phone. Hearing you laugh from the next room. Him cooking for you. You waking beside him, knowing he could reach for you and not have to pretend it meant nothing.
Leon sighed at that thought.
He knew he had been in a lot of bad situations throughout his life. He'd stared death in the face more times than he cared to count. But somehow, being in love with you without knowing what to do about it was its own kind of disaster. Maybe it was the worst situation he had ever found himself in.
And yet, not a single bone in his body regretted it.
Just then, as he was wrestling with his thoughts, his eyes landed on the clock.
6:00 a.m. Sharp.
Leon nearly laughed in relief, now there were only two more hours left until he got to see you, hear your voice, and spend an entire mission by your side. The realization sent something dangerously close to solace flooding through his chest.
Without further ado, he started to get ready by wearing a fresh set of clothes, his jacket, with a satisfied sigh Leon glanced in the mirror, and sprinkled a few sprays of cologne on his neck and wrists, and just like that another hour slipped by.
Before leaving, Leon gave himself a mental pep talk, reminding himself that this was just a mission. A routine operation. Nothing special. He would spend a few hours with you, complete the objective, and then go home.
At least, that's what he told himself.
But what Leon didn't know was that he was completely wrong.
Eventually, he left his apartment, locking the door behind him before heading toward his car. The drive afterward was far too quiet, but Leon found that he didn't mind.
Reaching over absentmindedly, he turned on the radio and ended up playing one of your favorite songs without even realizing it. It filled the car softly as he drove, and the entire way there his thoughts drifted back to you; your laugh, your smile, the sound of your voice over comms, and the way you somehow managed to make even the worst days feel a little lighter.
By the time he arrived at the ruined facility, you were already there waiting for him. Standing near the entrance with the morning sunlight catching the edges of your silhouette, you looked almost unreal. That's what leon thought as he embrace your entire being through his gaze.
You were dressed entirely in black, tactical gear resting on your waist, your comms resting comfortably against your ears, you carried yourself with that familiar confidence he had admired for years.
But what truly got him was the smile on your face the one accompanied by that small crinkle of your nose that appeared whenever you were genuinely happy.
Leon felt his heart do that stupid thing it had been doing for the past six years. The same thing it always did whenever he saw you.
Leon quickly shook his head, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks at the direction of his thoughts. Unable to stop the smile tugging at his lips, he returned yours with one of his own before parking the car and making his way toward you.
As he approached, you immediately greeted him with a cheerful voice, "Hey!" Your eyes crinkled at the sight of him, your smile widening ever so slightly, and Leon felt something warm settle in his chest at the simple gesture.
Leon couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips. "Hey, partner."
God. Every single time he called you that, he felt like an absolute idiot. You had no idea how much he liked saying it. No idea how many things he wanted to call you something else instead. So he settled for, partner, the safest option available, even if his heart was busy saying things he would never dare speak out loud.
"Ready?" you asked finally, not looking at him as you adjusted your gear, your attention focused on checking the straps and equipment secured across your vest.
"As I'll ever be."
A grin spread across your face as you faced him again. "Good. I'll take the west wing. You take the east."
Leon raised an eyebrow at you, "Bossy."
You rolled your eyes immediately, "Efficient, Kennedy."
"That's not what I heard."
A laugh escaped you, and Leon swore he saw the faintest hint of pink appear on your cheeks before it vanished again, or maybe he imagined it because it wouldn't be the first time.
"Didn't say you don't like it." The words slipped out before Leon could stop them. His eyes widened slightly the moment he realized what he'd just said.
Thankfully, you were already looking down at the mission tablet, seemingly focused on the mission briefing rather than the embarrassing comment he'd accidentally let escape.
Leon nearly groaned.
Smooth. Real smooth, Kennedy.
"Since this is just a routine sweep," you continued, finally glancing up at Leon, "we'll keep each other updated through comms. If either of us finds anything suspicious, we regroup immediately."
Leon nodded, his attention fixed on you far more than the actual briefing. Instead, he found himself noticing the way you spoke, the way your hands moved as you explained the plan, and the tiny crease that appeared between your brows whenever you were focused on something.
It was ridiculous, really. At this point, Leon was completely hopeless.
"Leon?" The snap of your fingers in front of his face immediately pulled him out of his thoughts.
His attention snapped back to you. "Hm?"
"Were you listening?" you asked.
"Of course," Leon replied with a confident nod.
You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. "Then what did I just say?"
"...Something about the mission."
Your groan and it rang out loudly across the parking lot while Leon merely grinned shamelessly, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
Shaking your head, you pointed toward the entrance. "East wing," you reminded him.
"Yes, ma'am." Leon offered a dramatic salute, though the grin never left his face.
You rolled your eyes so hard he was surprised they didn't get stuck, then you turned away from him. Before disappearing, however, you flipped him off over your shoulder and stuck your tongue out at him.
Leon's smile widened immediately.
God, he was gone.
And then, just like that, you disappeared into the west side of the ruined facility while Leon headed toward the east, still smiling like an idiot long after you were out of sight.
Focus on the mission, Kennedy he told himself because that had been his strategy for six years.
As Leon moved deeper into the abandoned facility, his footsteps echoed faintly through the ruined hallways. He swept each room carefully, checking for any signs of life—or death as he kept his weapon raised and his senses alert.
Then his comms crackled and immediately, warmth spread through his chest. “Leon, I've got eyes on the west corridor. No movements yet.”
Your voice flowed through the earpiece, calm and fierce.
And just like that, Leon could picture you perfectly. Focused and professional. It was one of the things he admired most about you. You could be relaxed and funny one moment, but the second a mission demanded it, you became completely locked in.
Leon adjusted his grip on his weapon as he moved through the crumbling corridor, keeping his steps steady and low. “Copy that,” he murmured. “Stay on overwatch.”
A brief silence followed before your voice came through again. “Be careful, Leon. Something feels off about this place.”
Your tone was softer this time, carrying a hint of concern that made Leon's chest tighten immediately. It always happened whenever you said anything that sounded even remotely worried about him.
“Always am,” he replied casually, even though the warmth spreading through his chest made it difficult to sound nearly as unaffected as he wanted.
"Still," you said, your voice crackling softly through the comms, "keep me updated."
Leon hummed in response and continued deeper into the facility.
Then everything went wrong as it always does.
Just as Leon pushed open a broken door, his attention slipped for the briefest moment. It was all the opportunity the infected needed. The creature lunged from the side of the doorway, far faster than expected, and raked its claws across his torso.
Excruciating pain exploded through his side as the claws tore into his flesh, slamming him violently into the wall. A sharp hiss escaped him as the impact knocked the air from his lungs. Blood immediately began soaking through his jacket, spreading rapidly across the torn fabric as a burning agony radiated through his entire body.
Your voice cracked through the comms, urgent and demanding. "Leon! Are you okay?! I heard some noises. Answer me."
Despite the pain Leon was enduring, the panic in your voice almost made him smile. "I'm fine," he gritted out, shoving the infected away before putting a bullet through its skull.
But Leon knew he wasn't fine; infected tore through some vital organ of his he was sure of it.
The infected's body collapsed instantly; in front of him, and Leon tried to steady his breathing. But it didn't felt steady; it kept getting heavier by each passing second.
"Leon, talk to me," you demanded.
He opened his mouth to answer, but a wave of dizziness crashed into him instead, stealing the words before they could leave his lips. His gaze dropped to his side, and his stomach sank immediately.
The blood was spreading across his jacket far faster than he liked, staining the fabric dark red with alarming speed.
That was...
Bad.
By the time he stumbled deeper into the room, his legs were beginning to feel unsteady. He pressed himself against the nearest wall before slowly sliding down it until he was sitting on the floor.
The world had slowly started to tilt.
His vision blurred at the edges, as the hallway seemed to sway around him. His every breath grew heavier than the last, and it took all his concentration just to remain standing. Then the comms crackled again.
"Leon!"
Your voice burst through the speaker, sharp with panic.
The sound alone made his chest tighten. You rarely sounded like that. Not for anything. Yet now there was unmistakable fear in your voice, and somehow that frightened him more than the blood pooling beneath his jacket.
Your voice sounded farther away now."Leon, respond!"
He exhaled shakily. "S…still here," he managed.
But in reality, he didn't feel very "here" anymore. Instead he felt he wasn't even in this world anymore, everything around him seemed distant, muffled, as though he were listening to it from underwater.
His hand remained pressed firmly against the wound, desperately trying to stem the bleeding, but it didn't help much. Warm blood continued to seep between his fingers, and with every passing second, he could feel his strength slipping away.
Through the haze, your voice broke through the comms again."I'm moving to your position. Hold on."
"No," he rasped immediately, forcing the words out. "Don't... call for backup."
"I will, but the tech isn't working here. The connection is bad. Please don't close your eyes. I'm coming to you now." The panic in your voice was impossible to miss.
And Leon couldn't help the lazy smile that tugged at his lips as he heard your footsteps echoing through the comms.
God, you're always so stubborn.
Then the comm connection cut out entirely.
Leon let his eyes close for just a second.
When he opened them again, he saw you standing in the doorway. For a brief moment, he genuinely thought he was hallucinating. Between the blood loss and the dizziness clouding his mind, seeing you there felt almost too good to be real.
But no.
There you were.
His smile widened faintly. Your brows furrowed the instant you spotted him, and without hesitation you broke into a run straight toward him.
It would've looked almost cinematic under different circumstances but right now it just seemed tragic.
Within seconds, you reached him and dropped to your knees beside him, immediately assessing the wound with practiced focus.
Your hands remained steady as they worked on his wound, but Leon could tell you were panicking.
He should've felt guilty for noticing it. Instead, something warm settled in his chest. Not because he was hurt; God, he would've preferred almost anything over that but because it meant you cared.
Maybe not in the same way he cared for you. Maybe not with the kind of love he'd carried for years. But you cared nonetheless, and somehow that was enough. And your eyes betrayed you despite your efforts to stay composed.
Leon caught the worry hidden behind them, the tears gathering at the corners that you were desperately trying to hold back, and for a moment he found himself smiling through the pain.
"Okay," you muttered, already shrugging off your black jacket and pressing it firmly against his wound. "Okay, stay with me."
Leon blinked up at you and let out a weak chuckle. Because even like this, even bleeding out on the floor of some ruined facility, with pain tearing through his side and his vision threatening to fade, all he could think about was how close you were.
"It's not bad," you said, clearly lying to him perhaps to keep him from worrying, perhaps because you were trying to convince yourself of the same thing. But your voice cracked halfway through the sentence, betraying you instantly.
Leon should've lied too, should've smiled and told you he was fine. But he didn't have the energy for it anymore. "It is bad," he said simply.
Your jaw tightened immediately. You adjusted your grip on the makeshift bandage of your jacket, pressing harder against his side.
The pressure sent another wave of pain through him that made him groan in pain, but somehow it was your voice that made something strange happen in his chest. "...No no you are gonna be okay."
God.
That did something dangerous to him. Even through the pain, Leon found himself lingering on your panicked expression. He shouldn't have thought it, not now of all times, but there was something oddly endearing about the way you were fussing over him.
"You look adorable when you are all panicky."
God what was he saying, but fuck it, if he is gonna die as well as say it.
A shaky breath escaped you as you looked at him. "What?" you asked confused.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Leon's mouth. "Yeah," he said quietly. "It's kind of distracting."
That earned a broken laugh from you but it was more of a half laugh, half sob. You pressed the jacket tighter against his wound, though your hands were trembling now.
"Stay with me," you ordered firmly.
Leon tried to keep his eyes open, but the edges of his vision were already blurring. "I am."
The moment his eyelids started to droop, you softly slapped his cheek. "Hey!" you breathed, patting each side of his face gently, "Open your eyes. Wake up."
Leon groaned weakly. "...You're not supposed to be here."
"What?" You asked.
He swallowed painfully and glanced away, his gaze drifting toward the floor. For a moment, he seemed almost embarrassed despite the blood loss and the pain tearing through his side. "I don't want you to see me like this," he admitted quietly.
For a moment, all you did was stare at him, then disbelief flashed across your face. "Leon, you are such an idiot."
Despite everything, he laughed, which instantly turns into a painful grunt.
You shook your head furiously and adjusted your grip on him again. "I called for backup. I don't know when they'll get here." You pause for a second and your voice wavered again. "But you're staying awake until they do. Do you hear me?"
Leon looked up at you and saw the tears gathering in your eyes. He saw the fear you were trying so desperately to hide, and the way your hands refused to let go of him no matter how much blood stained them.
For the first time since he'd been injured, he felt something dangerously close to relief settle in his chest. Not because he was hurt, not because things were going to be okay but because you were here. "Yeah," he whispered softly.
Your hands paused for a moment, and something in your expression shifted.
"Leon..." Your voice was quieter now, but no less firm. "You know, when I joined the agency, you were the one I looked up to. Honestly, you still are."
Leon blinked slowly, swallowing hard on the air between you and him.
You swallowed too and continued before you could lose your nerve. "You're brave. Braver than anyone I've ever met. You've gone through things most people wouldn't even dare to think about, and somehow you're still here." Your grip tightened slightly on his wound and he wince. You apologetically look at him and loosen your grip on the wound and continue, "You're still standing. You're still helping people."
He could not believe what he was hearing his eyes widening as he slowly processed your words.
A shaky breath escaped you. "I researched you, you know. Before we started working together. I read every report I could find, every mission record they would let me access." A faint, tearful laugh left you. "I wanted to know who the legendary Leon Kennedy really was."
Your eyes met his, and his eyes started to glisten too.
"But you know, all I found was someone who keeps carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and still shows up every day to save people."
Your voice cracked, you didnt know why you were saying it maybe it is to keep him alive, but it didnt change the fact it was the truth you have hidden for years, "Because, Leon, you're the kind of person who will always be..." The words caught in your throat. Suddenly, they felt far too dangerous to say out loud. Your gaze dropped briefly before finding his again. "Someone..." you tried once more, but your voice failed you. The confession hovered between you, unfinished yet painfully obvious. Your breath get stuck in your throat as you guide your hands towards his before giving it a firm squeeze.
"Who is important to me."
Leon glanced at your hands and his heart beats way too rapidly. And before he could ruin it by staying silent again, your words starts to wrap themselves around his ribs like a tightening coil.
They slowly settled somewhere deep inside him, somewhere he had spent years keeping locked away. No one had ever said those things to him, not like that. Not with tears in their eyes. Not with hands trembling as they fought to keep him alive.
For so long, Leon had been the one who carried the hurt, the one who kept moving forward because there was no other choice. Yet here you were, looking at him as though he was something worth saving.
The feeling hit him harder than the pain tearing through his side. And as he lay there, bloodied and exhausted, all he could think was that he needed to tell you. Needed you to know. Needed to confess. Before it was too late.
Leon swallowed painfully, his gaze never leaving yours. "I need you to know something too," he said quietly.
Your eyes widened instantly.
"No, no, don't talk. Save your energy," you warned, tightening your grip on him as if that alone could keep him here.
He ignored you.
Classic Leon.
A faint, tired smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I don't think I'm getting out of this one clean."
"Leon!"
The sharpness in your voice echoed through the room.
But Leon simply shook his head weakly.
"No." He swallowed hard, fighting through the pain. "Listen to me."
Something in his expression made your protest die in your throat.
For the first time since you'd reached him, he wasn't trying to reassure you. Your hands stayed pressed against his wound.
His voice was weaker now. He took a slow, painful breath, as though even speaking was becoming difficult. "I've had feelings for you for a long time."
Your entire body froze.
For a moment, you forgot about the blood, the mission, the collapsing facility—everything.
Your lips trembled.
"Leon..."
"Let me say it, partner," he interrupted softly. There was a faint smile on his face, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Because, truthfully, this hurts like hell."
He paused, fighting for another breath.
"If this is the last breath I take," he said quietly, his gaze never leaving yours, "then it won't be in vain as long as I spend it near you."
Your eyes immediately filled with tears and you opened your mouth to speak but Leon swallowed hard and gave a weak shake of his head.
"No," he whispered when you tried to stop him again. "If I don't say it right now... I don't know if I'll ever be able to."
The words landed between you like a shockwave for a moment, all sound seemed to disappear. Your chest tightened painfully, your breath catching somewhere in your throat as you stared at him. The confession felt impossible, unreal, something you'd imagined a hundred times but never truly expected to hear.
"I.. I.. am in love with you."
There he said it. He thought, he doesn't care anymore if he lives or die. Because now he got to say it. And instead of feeling panicked he feels strangely safe, then almost a relieved exhales escaped him.
Your lips parted, trembling slightly. "You... you're serious?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.
“Yeah,” he muttered, a shaky breath escaping him as pain laced through every word. “Fuck, it hurts like a motherfucking bitch.” He gave a weak, strained exhale before laughing weakly. “Sorry…i know its a bad timing.”
Your grip tightened on him immediately, as if refusing to let him slip any further away.
Leon gaze at you and something in his expression softened, despite everything. “…It’s okay,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to say anything back.”
That made your eyes flash. “What?”
“I said it because I needed to,” he continued. “Not because I expect—”
“You think I don’t feel the same?”
Leon blinked slowly. “…What?”
Your breath shook. “You think I don’t—Leon, are you serious?”
For the first time in a long time, Leon Kennedy looked completely, utterly stunned.
You swallowed hard. “I love you,” you said. “I have for a long time too.”
“Leon… I loved you,” you said, your voice breaking as the words finally spilled out. “The moment you were hesitant to even talk to me, I thought you weren’t interested, so I just kept it friendly… I didn’t know what else to do.”
Your grip tightened on his hand as tears blurred your vision. “I kept pretending it was fine. That it didn’t matter. That I could just… stay close to you like that.” Your breath shook. “But it always mattered. It always was you.”
You swallowed hard, looking down at him through trembling lashes.
“I just didn’t think you’d ever feel the same.”
That actually got a real smile out of him. “I thought I was imagining it all,” he admitted softly.
“You were not,” you whispered.
“So we both were scared, and spent years like that?” you whispered, voice breaking as the realization settled heavily in your chest.
“Better late than never… right?” Leon groaned.
You nod you were actually sobbing now, “Stay... with.. me..,” you said again, and this time it wasn’t an order; it was a desperate plea. Your voice broke around the words, fragile and desperate as you held onto him like letting go would mean losing him completely.
Leon’s eyes softened. “I’m trying,” he said.
And for the first time since the mission started He believed he might actually get the chance to stay. “No—no, stay with me, Leon—”
“I am with you,” he said softly. “Even if I don’t make it out.”
Tears flowed freely down your cheeks, your eyes squeezing shut as a pained sob escaped you. “Don’t say that,” you whispered, your voice breaking.
“I’m not afraid anymore,” he added.
That made you shake your head harder. “You’re not allowed to leave me.”
Leon ignored that comment and instead his gaze softened, his breath uneven as he held your hand a little tighter. “Because…” he whispered, pausing as if gathering the last of his strength, “I get to tell you everything."
And for the first time in his life, Leon Kennedy let himself close his eyes without fear.
And the last thing he knew was your hands around him holding on desperately, refusing to let go and your voice breaking as you screamed his name again and again, as if sheer sound alone could pull him back from the edge.
.
.
.
When he woke up hours later, it was because of your uneven breathing and the steady beep of the machine beside him. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the harsh hospital light, the room slowly coming into focus.
When his vision finally cleared, the first thing he saw was you asleep in a chair beside him, head resting near the bed, his chest swelled with emotions and he noticed your fingers still wrapped around his.
Leon exhaled slowly and relief hit him so hard it almost hurt. You stirred too finally, blinking awake. When your eyes met his, everything seemed to stop again but this time, it didn’t fall into silence.
Leon let out a weak breath. “…Hey… partner,” he murmured softly.
Your eyes filled instantly. Then you leaned forward, gripping his hand tighter like you were afraid he might disappear again. “I love you, Leon Scott Kennedy,” you said, your voice shaking but certain, like you needed him to hear it now that he was truly here to listen.
Leon closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if letting the words settle somewhere deep inside him. Then he opened them again and smiled faintly. "I love you more than eternity itself, partner,” he whispered.
And you let smiled through your tear-stained face.
And this time as he looked into your eyes his hands reaching up to your face to wipe away your tears, Leon realized. It wasn’t an ending.
It was the beginning of something he never let himself believe he’d get.
(Admiral and Commander pursue you across the seas while you follow the trail of the scepter. But freedom comes at a price.)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Word Count: ~ 10k
Rating: T - Pirate AU, found family, fantasy elements, love triangle, mutual pining, more of Resident Evil men yearning catastrophically, emotional hurt/comfort, hopfeul/happy ending (you end up with only one of them hehe guess), appearance/mentions of other RE characters (new character in this part and a RE9 Leon cameo)
Author's Note: Wow, this took me like, waaay to long I apologize 🥺 Also sorry for being MIA lately (some might've noticed). Unfortunately, I've been dealing with some health issues and have been focusing on this (worst hyperfixation ever). So sorry if this last part is garbage lol. I wanted to finish what I've started though! I hope to get better soon so that I can be more active again 💕 And I will NOT begin to write something that will be a 30k fic again (she said not believing herself). Thank you lovelies for all your patience and also YAY CLAIRE I'm happy she is part of this in celebrations of the Veronica announcement 🥳 All the love 🥰
The creak of wood, gentle swaying, tired waves – and a mind wide awake.
You had given up on trying to sleep quite some time ago and instead sat upright in bed.
Friendly moonlight spilled through your cabin, its beams one of many signs of the calm sea outside. No trace remained of the violent storm from some time ago.
With your gaze fixed on the endless ocean beyond the window, knees drawn up and chin resting atop them, your thoughts circled back to what had happened in Port Nesta – to Leon.
As though you could summon the feeling of his lips all over again, your fingertips brushed over the spot where they had touched your own. Where he had whispered the promise of a free future.
Would he truly be able to leave his station and duty behind? What had changed his mind so suddenly? Your tale of magical artifacts and shared adventures?
It had never been your imagination – that Leon felt something for you. The realization filled your stomach with both excited butterflies and an inexplicably heavy ache. Could you really be the one to pull him away from the very thing that had anchored him all these years?
You felt like crying. You had fought for your life – but in doing so, you had placed both Leon and yourself in an impossible situation. What were you supposed to do from here? Would you sail the seas and eventually die upon them – without him?
Better that than remaining chained to the land, with him forever within reach and no chance at a life of your own.
A long breath escaped through your nose as you stretched out your legs and pushed yourself from the bed. There was no point spending hours alone with your thoughts in the gently rocking bow of the ship.
Uneven wooden planks met your bare feet, not cold thanks to the warm summer air surrounding the vessel. Even so, you draped a newly acquired scarf around your shoulders before slipping out of your cabin.
Only the sky outside your window revealed that it was still the middle of the night. Beyond the sounds of a typical ship, the Nemesis rested in silence – no danger, no whispers, only the ship and the sea.
Past the cabins of the others, up one deck and beyond the storage hold, fresh, mild sea air greeted you on deck.
There was something magical about it. The way she cut gently through the waves, carrying you safely across the water beneath a sky filled with stars. You never grew tired of admiring that black curtain above - unbroken by houses or lights. Only the Nemesis and the vast darkness above and below her.
With the clear air came clearer thoughts. The wind played softly with your hair as you stood by the railing, letting yourself be enchanted by the view. This felt more like home than the grand palace ever had.
“Can't sleep, princesa?”
His voice should not have surprised you, and yet it pulled you from your thoughts enough to make you jump.
The captain of the Nemesis stood upon the quarterdeck at the helm, his figure softly illuminated by the moon. His eyes were fixed not on you, but on the black horizon ahead. One hand rested loosely on the wheel – there was no need to steer in a night this calm.
“Looks like you can't either, Captain,” you replied, amusement soft in your voice. “Shouldn't Jill be at the helm right now?”
The smile on Carlos's face stretched a little wider. His shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath.
“Told her to get some sleep. Wanted to have a moment with my ship. But, uh –,” before you could tell him you would leave the two of them alone, his gaze shifted toward you, “ – this is even better company.” He spoke the words quietly, almost affectionately. Maybe even a little shyly. Unusual enough for him that a quiet laugh escaped you.
“Come on, I wanna show you something.” Carlos motioned for you to join him atop the quarterdeck. Not that there were many boundaries aboard Carlos Oliveira's ship – but somehow the path to the helm always felt special. Usually only Jill and Carlos stood there.
From this vantage point, the view of the ship and her path through the water was perfect. You felt one with her. With her gentle movements, her wooden groans, the whistle of the wind through the sails – as though she were speaking to you.
“What is it?” you asked through the peaceful atmosphere.
“Ever wanted to hold her?” He nodded toward the wheel. “The helm, I mean.”
Surprised, you looked over at Carlos. He smiled at you, one side of his body open toward you, one hand resting upon the wheel.
“You sure?” you asked, though you were already moving closer. Never in your life had you imagined steering a ship. Simply steering wherever you wished. Complete control over your course.
“Wouldn't have offered otherwise. Here.”
Carlos took your hand and gave it a gentle tug, positioning you in front of him. You held your scarf firmly around your shoulders while his fingertips slid over the fabric, down your forearm and toward your other hand. Hopefully he couldn't feel the goosebumps spreading across your skin.
You had never truly been alone with him before. Never in such silence. Never so free beneath an ocean of stars. It did something to the air between you. Something that made you swallow.
Your eyes followed his hand as it guided yours upward and settled it upon the wheel, connecting you to the Nemesis in a way usually reserved only for great captains and sailors.
The nervousness faded into the background the moment you touched the smooth wood. A content sound vibrated softly in your throat. You were steering a vessel.
Carlos remained behind you, both hands now resting on the wheel as well, enveloping you within his space the way he so often did. It felt like a symbiosis only possible at sea. The two of you at the helm, the Nemesis beneath your feet. You suddenly understood so much better why sailors loved the ocean.
Moonlight fell across the barely moving wheel just perfectly enough for you to notice the letters carved into the wood.
“Pursuer of Stars,” you read in a whisper. Your fingers drifted from the soft fabric of your scarf to the uneven wood of the helm, tracing the carved words, understanding their meaning – and somehow not understanding it at all.
“The stars – ” Carlos began behind you, “ – have always been my most trusted companions. More so than for many sailors, I'd like to think. Do you know much about their ways?”
As he spoke, he shifted slightly closer. Only a little. But enough for your scarf to lose its hold around your shoulders and slip down with the softest swoosh. Gone was that last protective barrier of distance between you. Never before had you stood before a man like this – wearing nothing but your nightclothes, a long white shirt with short sleeves. It wasn't uncomfortable. It was simply different, realizing how completely yourself you could be. Even dressed like this, you felt no danger.
“Only a little,” you answered calmly, keeping your hands on the wheel as your gaze lifted toward the sky. The stars glittered above you. You stretched a hand upward as though you might pluck one from the heavens, but instead pointed toward the nearest constellation that caught your eye. “I know the Great and Little Bear. Ursa Major. And Polaris.”
“The most important star there is. Always points north.” Carlos's voice dropped lower as he gazed at the stars alongside you. Peace settled over you – and hopefully over him as well. “Do you know your zodiac constellation?”
You shook your head. “I taught myself astrology. Not exactly proper for a princess to study the stars.” You offered a rueful smile.
“When's your birthday? I'll show you your constellation.” Carlos immediately put words into action. He leaned farther forward, his broad chest brushing lightly against your back. You did your best not to shiver. There it was again – that strange vibration in the air. Was it familiar? It hummed and shimmered as you felt his warm breath near your ear. You held your own breath.
“T-That's nice,” you managed after he pointed out your constellation among the stars.
“What?” Carlos chuckled softly. “Did I finally manage to distract you, princesa?”
The words were almost purring, though they carried the same amused warmth as always.
“You? Distracting me? Never.” You somehow managed to keep hold of your thoughts. But with him still standing so close, his torso against your back, his arms on either side of you, the humming in the air refused to stop. And a warm feeling had begun to spread through your stomach, one you really shouldn't have been feeling. Not here. Not with him.
“Wanna bet?” Before your eyes, Carlos produced the closed compass.
You knew that if you took it now, it would lead you anywhere except the island holding the treasure you sought. That was a wager you could only lose.
The compass felt heavier than it should in your hand as curiosity convinced you to take it anyway. You knew you should want it to guide you toward the freedom waiting for you. But –
When you opened it, the needle spun briefly in a circle. You had to know, had to know what was happening to you. Carlos remained close at your side, his gaze fixed upon the compass as well. The needle adjusted itself, then pointed directly ahead – along the very course you were already sailing. Relief escaped you in a slow breath.
“Hm,” Carlos murmured. “Looks like I owe you one after all. You really are incredibly good at focusing.”
“Seems so...” you answered quietly, disbelieving, but mostly proud. Your desire for freedom had not been overshadowed – by nothing and by no one.
At the same time, a strange urge bubbled up inside you – the urge to apologize to Carlos. To the man who had saved you from a life chosen by others. Shouldn't you be grateful to him? You didn't voice the thought. You could decide for yourself how to feel about all of this, always – you knew that now.
Carlos startled slightly when you turned toward him with a liberated smile, your hands clasped behind your back instead of resting on the wheel.
“Am I still distracting you?” Amusement sparkled in your eyes as you looked up at him.
He blinked, as though uncertain what he was supposed to do next – also unusual for him. For a moment he simply stared, caught like a startled deer in lantern light, before finally collecting himself and lowering his shoulders. The easy smile returned to his face. He bent his elbows and stepped back into your space, forcing you to take a small step backward until the wooden wheel met your back.
“Maybe a little,” he hummed. He was close, but his body no longer touched yours. He was a gentleman like that – and you knew exactly why.
“You know what?” he asked, his dark gaze steady on yours. You held it, even as gentle warmth blossomed across your cheeks despite yourself.
“I lied,” he confessed.
Your eyebrows shot upward in surprise. “Isn't that what we pirates usually do?”
His more serious expression immediately broke again and he let out a quiet laugh. “Stop distracting me. I said – I lied. I am a mighty jealous fella.”
Your stomach flipped. “Well, uh, technically you never said you weren't jealous,” you countered nonetheless.
“I see how they had their hands full with you,” he shot back playfully. “Having fun twisting people's tongues?”
“On occasion.” You shrugged. “But I know.”
He looked at you questioningly.
“I know that you are jealous. I can see it in the way you look at us. I mean, the way you watch over us whenever strangers are around.” The realization became clearer as you spoke. “It's not about other men, not about some chasing Commander. It's about us, your crew.”
You watched his gaze melt. His wild black hair shifted with the tilt of his head. His lips parted slightly as he drew a sharper breath. Rough fingertips hesitantly touched the base of your neck – not bold at all this time – and a spark of electricity raced down your spine.
For a second Carlos inhaled, intending to start a sentence – then he stopped himself and settled on different words:
“It's different with you.”
You sucked in the smallest gasp. Ashley had been right. And Carlos's fingers closed gently around your chin, his gaze resting on you, soft and restrained and forward all at once. This couldn't possibly be happening – and yet it did as Carlos pressed his lips to yours.
Contrary to everything you had come to expect from Carlos Oliveira, the way he kissed was gentle. Warm. Passionate in a way only he could be. The man who had rescued you. The man burning with a love of freedom. The man beside whom you could be anything you wanted to be. There was a familiarity to him, a goodness so pure that you never doubted the sincerity of his heart.
As you closed your eyes and leaned into the kiss, silently giving him permission, Carlos leaned into you as well. Your bodies touched, yet one of his hands remained on the Nemesis – even though your combined weight already kept the wheel steady.
His lips grew bolder, his hand slid into the nape of your neck, fingers slipping into your hair, keeping it from blowing between you in the rising breeze. Again and again he found you. For a moment you thought he might pull away – but then his mouth sought yours once more.
The taste of rum tingled on your tongue before his ever touched it. And when it finally did, his hand guiding you deeper into a consuming connection, it felt as though you could become intoxicated on it. The scent of cedarwood rushed into your nose, the pirate filled your senses.
It was almost instinctive when your arms rose around his neck and your heels lifted from the deck, pressing yourself closer to him. He held you securely, an arm wrapped around your waist, his lips never leaving yours, breaths stolen somewhere in between.
A huff escaped through his nose as something untamed surfaced within him. Once more his larger body maneuvered you backward until the wheel pressed against your back. Through your thin clothes, you could feel every shift of muscle beneath him, every tension, every release. The movement sent tingles racing across your skin and curling low in your stomach. It wanted more, but another voice remained.
The same voice that seemed to be singing through Carlos's mind as well, because he murmured against your lips: “Wait, wait –”
Losing his warmth was disappointingly unpleasant, you had to admit. He pulled away, lips and body – putting a little distance between you. His eyes were full of scattered thoughts and primal instinct, his breathing coming in short pulls. He swallowed.
“I don’t – usually get involved with my crewmates. Not a good idea.”
Your own breaths came just as unevenly, excitement flickering through every part of you. Carlos's restraint only convinced you further. He was right.
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
A hint of embarrassment joined the warmth in your cheeks. You broke eye contact, but no matter where you looked, you only saw him. Wild hair, a well-kept beard, a sailor's shirt fluttering in the sea breeze, loosely laced, revealing the strong lines of his chest and the soft dusting of hair beneath.
“But –,” he gently tilted your head back toward his intense gaze, “– you would make the best Pirate Queen, eh?”
A little bit of joy returned to your system and you laughed softly. “The runaway Princess turned Pirate Queen. I like that.”
You would never have become a queen anyway. Here, as a freebooter, you might actually have a chance. What a thought.
“You remind me of someone I once knew. Very much like you.”
Carlos studied your face, his gaze wandering here and there, a faint smile lingering on his lips.
“Another princess?”
At those words, his eyes widened.
“Maybe the one you were guarding back when you were a soldier?”
It was painfully obvious. You and Ashley had been right about that too.
Carlos straightened, contemplating his words for a moment. Then he let out a snorting laugh. Running a hand through his hair, he let it settle at the back of his neck.
“Mhm. The queen, actually.”
There was no trace of anger or disappointment in his eyes, nor a sign that he was trying to lead you down the wrong path. You relaxed. He wasn't playing games with you, he trusted you, just as he trusted his entire crew.
“Great woman,” Carlos continued. “Very open-minded. Liberal, if you want to call it that. Loved the sea. Took me in when I had nowhere else to go.” His gaze drifted away as though he were remembering better days. He smiled. “I suspected her of being a mermaid at one point.” His smile turned wistful. “Didn't save her from what came.” His eyes found yours again. “How did you know?”
You let out a breath and lifted your shoulders. “A princess knows her soldier. I'd wager the others have suspected it too.”
“You girls are something else.” He smiled softly. “Only makes you more lovable.”
He took a moment to glance at the compass and make a slight adjustment to the course.
“So what happened?” you asked curiously.
Carlos's jaw worked as he stared ahead.
“Sorry, I just –” you began, uncertain whether you wanted to force him to revisit a painful memory. “It's strange, a soldier turned pirate. Especially if you liked your queen that much. Was it the king?”
“Damn right it was the king,” Carlos confirmed. “It's not a particularly long story. Happened within a matter of days.”
“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to,” you said carefully.
“It's fine.” His gaze drifted back to you. “It's nice having someone know me. Should we take a walk?”
He secured the wheel with a rope so it wouldn't drift off course on its own, then made his way down from the quarterdeck and onto the main deck with easy steps. The Nemesis wasn't enormous, but she was large enough for a quiet stroll through the night, the calm atmosphere softening the edges of the story Carlos was about to tell.
“It was a disease like any other – or so we thought. It spread through the townsfolk first. People started dropping like flies. We were sent to help – or so we believed. But then –,” he absently touched the rigging, “the order came. We were supposed to kill them all. Every man, every woman, every child – until the disease was gone. And I –,” his fingers tightened around the rope, “ – I couldn't follow this. I went to see the king and stop the madness. But by the time I returned to the palace, it was already too late. The disease had reached there as well.”
By now you had reached the bow, standing by the railing and looking out across the sea.
“It wiped out the kingdom faster than we could comprehend. That's how the city I once called home died. Its king fled like the coward he is. How I survived, only Poseidon himself knows.”
“But now you're searching for a scepter that makes people forget,” you mused aloud. “Not to get revenge?”
Carlos shook his head.
“To forget myself. I just want to forget. The suffering, the screams, the bodies, my survival.”
You placed your hand over his. He didn't pull away. And so you stood there together in the middle of the night, aboard his ship, sailing toward a chance to erase the weight you both carried.
“Ship approaching from starboard!” The call echoed down from the crow's nest.
Leon immediately looked to the right, expecting – and somehow not expecting – to spot the vessel with red and white sails upon the horizon.
He and his men had been following it for days. The last they'd seen of the ship, it had been cruising comfortably along the horizon, faster than the Nightingale and seemingly unconcerned by the fact that half the world was searching for it. A ship carrying princesses and noblewomen – all of them sailing toward a way to make the world forget.
If he captured this pirate and got his hands on that artifact, what would he do? Would he let the world forget both of you and spend the rest of his life crossing the seas at your side? It was a ridiculous dream you'd painted for him. Too beautiful to be real. Almost more beautiful than your lips. Almost.
How could he possibly return to a life that forbade him from having you? He had to catch up to you – and perhaps have a word with this Carlos.
Brown's boots thundered up the stairs to the quarterdeck beside him.
“Sir. It's the Admiral's ship.”
“I can see that, Mister Brown. Let's make sure the Admiral receives a proper welcome.”
Leon felt his stomach tighten. The Admiral's appearance could only mean one thing: A direct order from the king he could not anticipate.
The flagship of the fleet labeled Tyrant of the Sea, sailed alongside the Nightingale. Leon's men lined up on the main deck, standing straight and saluting as the gangplank was lowered. Leon and Brown joined the formation.
Across the planks strode the Admiral of the Royal Fleet – long white coat, meticulous grooming, perfection. Compared to him, Leon felt like a vagabond after weeks at sea.
“Admiral Wesker,” he greeted him with a salute. “What brings us the honor of your visit?”
Admiral Wesker, the highest-ranking and most respected man in the Royal Fleet, took his time answering. He drew on his pipe and lazily released the smoke into the air, letting it drift around his face before gesturing toward Leon with the stem.
“As you can imagine, Commander Kennedy, I am here on the king's orders.”
The heavy steps of expensive boots crossed the deck with ominous precision, stopping directly in front of Leon and Brown. The atmosphere tightened – something dangerous hung in the air.
Wesker halted directly before Leon, took another pull from his pipe, and deliberately exhaled the smoke straight into his face. Leon forced himself not to react, not even to flinch. He merely closed his eyes briefly against the foul-smelling smoke.
“The king has serious doubts that you are fulfilling your duty, Commander.”
Leon followed the Admiral's movements with narrowed eyes and a carefully maintained poker face.
“On what grounds has the king reached that conclusion?” he asked evenly. “We are close on the heels of the pirate ship that abducted the Princess.”
“Oh, we know.” Wesker's voice was calm, slick, cold. “We know you were already close. So very close.” He held two fingers a small distance apart, illustrating exactly how close Leon and his men had come to Carlos Oliveira's ship. “But you let her slip through your fingers, didn't you, Commander? Back in Port Nesta?”
Leon's heart dropped into his stomach, though nothing showed on his face. How did the Admiral know about Port Nesta – how much did he know? Had one of his own men talked, or had Wesker gathered the information on his way here? Leon prayed it was the latter. He had to trust his men.
“There was a storm,” Leon explained evenly. “We were forced to seek shelter in Port Nesta. If the Princess was there, we never saw her. We had to be careful not to expose ourselves.”
Wesker didn't buy a word of it, that much was obvious. Still, all he had were his suspicions and whatever testimony he'd gathered. Leon had been disguised. Anyone questioned could have seen a man – or not seen one at all.
The Admiral chuckled quietly. “If you say so, Commander. But we both know you're holding back.” Another pull from his pipe. “We will be joining the chase from this point forward, Commander. To ensure...that no further mishaps occur.” A thin smile touched his lips. “Consider it an opportunity to see the Princess returned to safety more quickly.”
Leon had no choice but to watch as the Admiral turned away and crossed back onto his own ship, his men saluting as Wesker departed. Leon clenched his fist so tightly it trembled.
“Your orders, sir?” Brown looked at him expectantly.
With superhuman effort, Leon pressed his lips into a thin line and looked from Brown to the rest of his men.
“Follow the Admiral's ship,” he answered stiffly, already heading toward his cabin. Just before entering, he stopped. Without turning around, he added, “If I discover that any of you are responsible for this situation, I'll personally make sure you're forgotten by the world and swallowed by the sea.”
Inside his cabin, Leon paced restlessly, frustrated, desperate. Now that the Admiral was involved, there was no decision left to make. No ending where you got your freedom and he got his peace. Wesker's ship would outrun the Nightingale and find you first.
Leon stared down at the map spread across his desk, tracing the rough course of the pirate vessel. Carlos, you, the all-female crew took a straight path toward the southeast. Was that where you would find the artifact you had spoken about? Something capable of making people forget? “
Curse it all,” Leon sighed.
“We got company! Two ships from the south! Looks like Navy!”
Claire stood high in the crow's nest, telescope pressed to her eye.
Every head on deck turned toward the horizon. Two ships; one large and imposing, the other behind it, visibly struggling to keep pace. Two rows of oars jutted from the larger vessel's hull, driving rhythmically through the rough sea.
“The Nightingale,” you recognized immediately. And ahead of it – “The Tyrant of the Sea...”
“Say what?” Carlos turned toward you.
“That's the fleet flagship.” Your stomach tightened. “We're in trouble.”
You pushed away from the railing and looked around frantically for an escape route. A sudden spark shot through your system as you spotted the shallower waters ahead.
There!” You pointed forward. “We can lose them there, near the reef. She's much larger than we are and won't follow us through those waters. The Nightingale –” You trailed off. The Nightingale might make it through, but you weren't worried about that. Leon commanded that ship.
“Why the panic?” Ada asked thoughtfully, studying the approaching vessels. “Is the crew really that dangerous?”
You looked around at the questioning faces. “Think of the most dangerous person you've ever met.” Your expression grew even more serious. “Admiral Wesker is worse.”
Every encounter you'd ever had with the Admiral had terrified you. And the stories were worse – how he relentlessly hunted pirates and criminals across the oceans and sank every ship he pursued, never leaving survivors – never taking prisoners, ever. Your father had never exaggerated those stories. Hopefully Leon was alright.
“I've never had much interest in meeting someone more dangerous than my mother,” Jill commented dryly as she headed for the quarterdeck.
“Aye. Or my mother,” Carlos agreed.
“You don't know your mother,” Jill shot back.
“Imagine how very dangerous she could be.” Carlos nodded with complete seriousness, mouth turned downward and eyes widened dramatically.
Jill, pausing on the bottom step leading to the helm, snorted briefly, gave her captain the attention he was demanding – and after rolling her eyes, she sprinted upstairs.
Carlos watched her go before turning toward Grace, who had been observing the entire exchange. He pointed after Jill. “Maybe I should use her as the benchmark instead.”
Grace rewarded him with a small smile.
Apparently that was all the validation Carlos needed, as a moment later he barked loud enough to make you, Ashley, and Grace jump.
“To your stations, ladies! Full sails into the wind and head for shallower waters! Let’s outrun them.”
Just as he pulled out the compass to study the course and everyone frantically began to get the ship moving, a cannon shot rang out from far away.
Leon was hit by a surge of alarm so strong he wanted to shake himself.
“Is he crazy?” he muttered from the forecastle. Only Brown heard the bewildered words. How could the Admiral order a cannon fired? “That’s our Princess on that ship.”
“I imagine he intends to sink the Nemesis and fish the Princess out of the sea,” his First Officer guessed.
“And the other noble daughters, they –” Leon snapped his mouth shut.
Admiral Wesker could not find out who else was aboard that ship. If he learned which daughters were there, he would hunt you forever, eager for the glory that would come with capturing the pirate and “rescuing” the women aboard. Only that wasn't what any of you wanted.
“Commander,” Brown pulled Leon from his thoughts. “The Admiral is signaling for us to sink the ship.”
Leon looked toward Brown, past him to the Admiral’s vessel where flags relayed the order. Then he folded his arms and faced forward again.
“Prepare the cannons, then.”
Another cannonball slammed into the water beside the ship. So far none had hit you – but it was only a matter of time.
“Why is your pretty Commander shooting at us?!” Jill called while maneuvering the ship as straight as possible, weaving just enough to throw off the enemy's aim.
“He has to!” You secured a line with a sailor’s knot – the same pretty Commander had taught you how to tie it. “It’s an order from Admiral Wesker.”
“Looks like his men are terrible shots, though,” Claire observed. “The cannonballs from the Nightingale keep landing nowhere near us.”
“We can make it!” Carlos shouted, helping with the sails himself. “Keep heading for the reef!”
Your gaze drifted toward the pursuing ships. You could only make out tiny figures, but you were certain you could see Leon aboard one vessel and Wesker standing at the bow of the other. Did Wesker’s presence change anything about the plan?
One cannonball finally found its mark, tearing away part of the railing and made Ashley, Grace, and you yelp in alarm.
“Ey, my ship!” Carlos protested. “’m gonna kill at least one of them.”
“Let’s reach the reef first and then we’ll see,” Jill replied.
By some stroke of supernatural luck, you managed to escape without taking any further damage. As expected, the Tyrant of the Sea couldn't follow you into the shallower waters – at the same time, the Nightingale made no move to pursue you there either, apparently operating under very specific orders.
“Drop anchor, we're far enough away from the cannons now,” Carlos ordered while checking the compass. A satisfied grin stole across his face. Then he looked up at his crew and raised the compass into the air. “Actually, we seem to be exactly where we want to be.”
“You mean –?”
Followed by the others, you moved closer to study the compass. The needle spun wildly in circles.
“W-Wait –” Grace spoke up. “We’re actually here?”
“And right on time,” Ada chimed in. “It’s a blood moon tonight.”
Amid all the chaos, Carlos had been watching the compass. Had he really been keeping track of your course the entire time? Had he known you were headed exactly where you needed to be? Or was it simply Carlos’s absurd luck once again – being in the right place, at the right time, under the right circumstances?
“We are so close.” Claire’s voice was barely more than a whisper carried by the wind, awestruck.
You understood her completely – as did everyone else who now exchanged looks filled with conflicting emotions – excitement, uncertainty, determination.
Tonight would decide your fate.
For the rest of the day, you kept watch on the Nightingale and its larger counterpart. Neither vessel attempted to move closer or fire at you again. It seemed they intended to wait until thirst and dwindling supplies forced you out of the safety of the reef.
Little did they know you were exactly where you wanted to be. The only problem? They would see wherever you chose to make landfall.
You stood beside Ashley at the railing as the moon slowly rose overhead. Together you gazed into the darkening sky while its color gradually deepened into something darker, redder.
“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Ashley remarked in awe.
“Neither have I.”
The blood moon seemed to possess the same pull as the ordinary moon, only amplified a hundredfold. Its steadily deepening crimson hue felt like proof of the magic hidden within the world – if only one knew where to look.
“I just wonder what's supposed to happen –”, you mused, followed closely by a startled gasp as the ship suddenly vibrated beneath your feet and waves began to rise, rocking the vessel violently.
“Hold on!” Carlos’s voice rang out from the quarterdeck as the swaying grew stronger, threatening to throw everyone off their feet.
Ashley and you grabbed onto the rigging. From the corner of your eye, you saw Jill clutching the wooden railing of the quarterdeck, and behind her Carlos, both hands firmly on the wheel, determination written across his face. You could only hope Grace and Ada had found something solid to hold onto as well.
Groans and moans rippled through the ship as the sea opened up before your eyes, bathed in the blood-red glow of the moon.
Suppressing the rising panic – what if you all sank into the endless sea and ended up on the ocean floor? – you watched as land emerged directly beneath and in front of you. First came stone; then the mouth of a cavern appeared; and finally, a stretch of pale sand rose into view, forming a sandbar upon which – thankfully, as you quickly realized – the Nemesis had come to rest.
“We're running aground!” Claire called down from the crow's nest.
“At least not on the rocks!” Ada remarked from somewhere near the forecastle.
And she was right – you could just as easily have been skewered on the jagged stone formations surrounding you.
Instead, the wood settled, the waves stopped crashing – and the Nemesis came to rest atop the sandbar. Ahead stretched a long, narrow path leading all the way to the massive, ominous cavern. The blood-red light reflected off slick algae, scattered shells, and a few unfortunate fish flopping helplessly where they had failed to escape before the island rose from the sea. Together it all blended into a breathtaking golden glow.
The entire crew moved to the railing, before them the thing they had been searching for.
“We have to be quick now,” Ada remarked, glancing over her shoulder. “Our friends are going to get curious about whatever just appeared in front of them.”
Carlos nodded. “You're right. Let's get our hands on the scepter and then we can lose them. And then…” His words trailed off as he – as you knew – thought about how he might soon forget his terrible past. The thought made your stomach ache; that he wanted to erase the very things that had made him who he was.
The others merely wanted the world to forget them. Then again, you couldn't truly understand what he had endured – perhaps starting over without the memories of a former life was sometimes the kinder option.
“Grace, Ashley, Claire – you stay on the ship,” Carlos ordered. “The rest of us are going searching.”
Claire was the only one who looked ready to protest, but Carlos cut her off with a raised hand and a gentler voice. “Claire, I need you to bring the others to safety if we don't come back.”
It was obvious that he trusted her and wanted Ashley and Grace to be safe. For a brief moment you wondered why he was bringing you,but quickly realized you were probably the only one who knew his secret.
Claire closed her mouth and nodded silently.
“Be careful.” Ashley pulled you into a tight hug.
“You too,” you murmured, savoring the closeness while feeling a strange sadness, as though saying goodbye to a sister.
“When we come back, you'll all be free women.” Carlos flashed a confident thumbs-up and motioned for Ada, Jill, and you to follow.
You had expected many things – deadly traps, the sea collapsing back over your heads, even the possibility that the entire story – the myth, the legend – would prove to be a dud and that beyond the magically appearing island there would be nothing more than an empty cavern.
But you had not expected what awaited you inside.
The trek across the sand was long and exhausting, inside the cave a short dark passage. Then it opened into a vast chamber, crimson light bleeding in through an opening high above.
“Hm.” Ada sounded genuinely impressed. “Not even my family's vault holds this much gold and treasure.”
She was right. You had never seen anything like it. Gold stretched as far as the eye could see, a pirate treasure hoard drenched in crimson light. Crowns, coins, jewels, everything glittered around you so magnificently that, for a moment, you were speechless.
“Who would hide this much treasure in a cave that only appears beneath a blood moon?” Jill wondered aloud as she looked around.
“A very smart pirate, I'd wager.” Carlos gestured ahead. “He takes as much gold as he needs – and then his treasure stays hidden and he gets to keep plundering in peace.” His finger pointed forward. “Eyes on the prize, ladies.”
In your awe, you hadn't noticed the raised platform at the center of the cavern. But there it was, upon a small golden hill – a pedestal – and resting atop it, a scepter.
Your heart skipped, your throat tightened. None of it had been a false pirate tale.
You walked between mountains of wealth, past more gold than anyone could spend in a hundred lifetimes, ignoring everything except the thing you wanted most. Freedom.
The scepter was illuminated from above, covered in markings you didn't recognize – engravings from another language nestled between gold and diamonds.
Carlos stared at the artifact in reverent awe, his hand already reaching towards it – but he stopped. His gaze shifted toward the three of you.
“Who wants to do the honours?” A mischievous smile tugged at his lips as he lowered his hand.
The three of you – Ada, Jill, and you – exchanged glances. As the newest member of the crew, it didn't feel right for you to claim what Jill and Ada had spent so much longer searching for.
“Should be Jill,” Ada said, crossing her arms as a small smile appeared. “You've put up with our Captain the longest.”
“Love you too, Ada.” Carlos snorted and nudged her shoulder.
A quiet chuckle escaped her.
“Go on, Jill,” you encouraged the First Mate.
Jill hesitated for a moment, glancing between all of you before her attention finally settled on the scepter. She raised a hand – tentative, perhaps a little fearful, but hopeful. Her fingers wrapped around the handle with a level of focus you had rarely seen from her.
She exhaled. “I can feel that there's something there. That we can do something with it.”
With a soft sound, the scepter lifted free of its stand.
“But how do we use it?” you asked. “Just... wish?”
“We could always try it on our friends right away,” Carlos suggested.
Jill, Ada, and you struggled to tear your eyes away from the artifact. Carlos seemed to have a slightly easier time doing so and turned back toward the entrance.
“Ruh-roh,” you heard him say.
You followed his gaze. The joy that had been filling your chest instantly shot into your throat, flooding your body with adrenaline. Albert Wesker stood at the mouth of the cavern, one arm raised, pistol aimed directly at you.
“Nice little cave you've found yourselves here,” he said in the same emotionless tone you remembered from every previous encounter.
His piercing gaze landed on you. “Princess. I did not expect to find you making common cause with pirates. That is –,” his eyes shifted toward Ada, Jill, and Carlos, “ – a pirate and a crew full of noblewomen, it would seem. I recognize at least three faces.”
His pistol hovered toward Ada. “Ada Wong.” Then toward you. “Our beloved Princess.” Then Carlos. “And Ashley Graham aboard your merry little boat.”
Carlos’s eyes narrowed, his brows drew together, and Ada, Jill, and you grew equally serious.
“What did you do to my crew?” Carlos asked, his voice carrying a sharp edge you had never heard before.
“They are well cared for, don't worry,” Wesker replied. “I will have to have a discussion with Commander Kennedy regarding loyalty after you follow me outside. My men are waiting directly beyond the cavern. Escape is pointless.”
So Leon hadn't told him about the people aboard the Nemesis. Unfortunately, that only made it harder for you to stay calm.
“Admiral Wesker,” you spoke up, though your voice came out closer to a squeak than intended. “Commander Kennedy has nothing to do with this, nor does the rest of the crew. What concerns you is solely my doing. Let everyone go and I will come with you without resistance.”
“We can't allow that.” Carlos immediately stepped in front of you, arm outstretched.
Ada and Jill moved in as well, shielding you from Wesker's gaze.
“Please. You can't put yourselves in danger for me. My dream of freedom ends here.”
“You're one of us now.” Jill looked at you with a crooked smile. “Part of the ship, part of the crew. We're not letting them take you that easily.”
Tears stung your eyes. You would not allow anything to happen to this family because of you.
“And yet you're the ones who took the Princess away,” Wesker's voice echoed through the cavern. “Never mind that. I'm not interested in your heroics. What I am interested in is the artifact.”
He gestured with his pistol toward the scepter, drawing all of your attention back to it. The golden staff still rested securely in Jill's hands.
“I've heard of it,” Wesker continued, “but I never believed it could actually be found.” He came closer and closer – too close – and Carlos, Ada, and you all reached for your swords. He could shoot one of you. After that, he would have to draw steel.
“Hand me the scepter,” he ordered in an icy sing-song voice. “I will simply make you forget you were ever here, all of you. Then it will be as though none of you ever searched for something that does not exist.”
“How do you know what we're searching for?” Jill hissed through clenched teeth.
Wesker laughed, short and mocking. “I know your kind. Rebellious daughters searching for meaning and freedom – until they realize freedom comes with a cost. Sometimes, it’s simply the price of failure.”
His pistol pointed more sharply at your group. “Hand me the artifact and I'll let you live. We will sail back, and I will deliver you to your households. Then there will be only the world left for me.”
“What kind of sicko is that?” Jill asked you, bewildered.
You raised your shoulders just as flabbergasted. “Knew he was a little crazy, but that crazy?”
Carlos and Ada both let out amused snorts.
“It’s four against one, what can you do?” Carlos challenged.
“Well, we're about to find out!” Carlos shouted the words – and then everything happened at once.
You drew your sword, Jill raised the scepter, Carlos launched himself toward the enemy. A gunshot rang out, followed by a cry of “No!” , the clatter of gold echoing through the chamber and then the clash of steel. Carlos hit the ground and rolled down the small golden mound where all of you had been standing. With a startled scream, Jill dropped the scepter and sprinted to his side.
You scrambled to pick up the artifact again so it wouldn't get lost in the ensuing chaos before you could use it the way Jill had intended to. The moment your fingers closed around the golden staff, energy surged through you – mystical, powerful, a force Wesker intended to use for anything but freedom. It told you exactly what needed to be done to make people forget. It was unbelievable, and yet undeniably real.
Only then did your gaze lift toward the fight ahead, where Wesker was dueling the newcomer who had managed to sneak up on all of you amidst the tension.
You gasped, nearly calling his name before catching yourself at the last second, unwilling to distract him. Leon had arrived. He and Wesker were locked in a duel unlike anything you had ever seen. Both opponents were so skilled with a sword that it was impossible to tell who held the advantage – or if either of them did.
A force as powerful as the earth itself pulled at you, urging you to run between them and protect Leon from Wesker.
“It’s a lie!” Leon shouted, his focus locked stubbornly on Wesker. “He’s here alone. Use the artifact!”
Ada was crouched beside Jill and Carlos, and from where you stood, you couldn't even tell whether he was still alive.
Only a few steps away stood the two Navy officers.
You were caught in the middle, panicked and torn apart. How were you supposed to use the scepter now? If you pointed it forward, you would set yourself free. But Leon would forget you. Or should you make the crew forget they had ever searched for a way out – but that would be insane... wouldn't it?
In a death-defying maneuver, Leon seized Wesker's arm and somehow twisted both their bodies until they were facing you. Time froze, only for seconds, yet it felt like an eternity.
Leon’s sea-blue eyes drilled into yours as he held the struggling Wesker in place, just long enough to say with absolute conviction: “Use the scepter. Let him forget, run – don't look back.” He said your name. “I will follow.”
Your breath came in frantic bursts. You shook your head. “You will not! You'll forget all of this too!”
You couldn't. You couldn't do that. He had kept his word. He had risked everything and attacked his superior officer to protect you. Always to protect you. And to be free with you.
“I can’t leave you behind, Leon!”
“You can. You must. It’s all right. You're meant to be free, my Princess.”
“You do NOT use this!” Wesker snarled, struggling furiously against Leon’s grip.
“Do it now!” Leon shouted and you cried out as your arm shot forward, the scepter clutched in your hand. It didn't charge. It simply unleashed itself in a flash.
The next moment you were already at Jill and Ada's side. Carlos was clutching his shoulder in agony. He was alive.
“Can you stand? We need to go, now!”
Ada and Jill hauled Carlos back to his feet. He let out a pained sound but managed to stumble forward with you past the two men.
Leon and Wesker stared blankly ahead, pressing hands to their heads as they struggled to find their bearings.
“We can’t just leave them here. What about the blood moon?” you asked, panic flooding your voice as fear for Leon gripped your chest.
“We have to go. Their crews will get them out,” Ada urged, pushing you onward. And in your fear and regret over what you had done, you didn't have the strength to resist her.
Without their captains, the Navy ships and their crews were powerless, directionless, leaderless. They didn't even seem to know what had happened to the two men and made no move to stop you as you climbed back aboard the Nemesis.
Leon had told the truth. No one had been waiting at the cavern entrance, no one had tried to stop you – but Ada had been right – the crews were already running toward the cave. Straight past the Nemesis, where Claire, Grace, and Ashley had been digging away at the sand beneath her hull to get her back into the water.
“What happened in there?!” Claire cried at the sight of Carlos, covered in blood.
“Will tell you all about it later. Let’s get to open sea and bandage up our captain,” Jill ordered with the same practiced authority Carlos usually carried. By now he was hanging like a wet sack between Jill and Ada.
“'m fine. 'm fine,” he muttered weakly as you hauled him aboard. “Set sail and raise anchor, ladies...”
He lost consciousness just as Ashley rushed over with bandages.
“First stop,” Jill stated as you lowered the flag while setting course for her hometown. She stood on deck with a serious expression, arms crossed, the scepter resting in one hand.
“You ready to let them forget?” you asked with a broad smile. “You deserve it, Jill. The first one of us to be free of everything.”
“Can’t wait to see how it feels for you,” Ashley said eagerly, excited for whatever was about to happen.
“It’s harder than I thought,” Jill admitted, staring thoughtfully at the scepter. “But I’m ready.”
She walked up to the bow from where she would make the whole city before her forget.
“P-Please just make sure you don't accidentally erase their entire lives,” Grace cautioned.
“I'll try,” Jill replied. “Not exactly easy to control. I don't even know if I can control it.”
That statement brought back memories of when you had used the scepter yourself – uncontrolled, without intention. To this day, you still didn't know whether Leon was alright. Or whether he had forgotten his entire existence. Or perhaps nothing at all, and you had merely blinded him and Wesker.
By now, you understood the scepter much better, and Jill intended to try controlling both the artifact and its effects. Emphasis on try.
While Jill prepared herself, you made your way up to the quarterdeck.
There stood your ever-cheerful, steadfast captain. Carlos looked proudly toward Jill, one hand resting on the ship’s wheel, body stretched comfortably, hair caught by the wind.
He beamed when you approached.
“Sure am glad you all convinced me my plan to forget myself was kinda dumb,” he said. “Otherwise I wouldn't get to watch you all finally gain your freedom.”
“Only kinda dumb?” you replied, amused by the softness in his gaze.
He laughed. “Alright: Very, very dumb.” His fist lifted and nudged your shoulder.
You smiled broadly. “We couldn't let you forget the things that made you who you are. The man who freed the daughters of the sea.”
“Your eternal protector, milady.” Carlos gave you a playful bow.
“One hell of a savior, too.” You nodded happily. Just then, a flash brighter than the blue sky illuminated the world around you. Like a wave, it raced through the air toward the harbor ahead and out across the open sea until the eye could no longer follow the magic.
Carlos and you watched the golden, radiant, almost gentle magic travel into the distance.
“You ever think about your pretty Commander anymore?” Carlos asked, gaze fixed on the sea even though he already knew the answer. You weren't his Pirate Queen, and that was fine.
A bittersweet smile touched your lips. “All the time.”
Your boots struck the wooden docks of Port Raccoon with a loud thud. In ten years, the city hadn't changed much. Still the same bright, welcoming town you remembered from back then – before you ran away, before you made everyone forget who you were.
Port Raccoon no longer had a princess. The king had a new heir with a new queen. No daughter. Only an empty space in the kingdom's history.
For ten years, you had never stepped foot in this city, even though it no longer knew you. But now, finally, the thought of something important had been enough to bring you back. The sea and all its adventures had shaped you into the person you were today – but your heart had never belonged to it. Not the way it belonged to those who were now part of the crew. Not the way it belonged to all those people you'd met throughout your voyage.
“So that is it then?”
You looked up toward the deck of the ship that had been your home for so long. There stood Carlos – your captain, your protector, your savior – and beside him his first mate, Jill Valentine, the strongest and bravest of all of you. You had already said your goodbyes. The tears had already fallen, the promises that you would see each other again had already been spoken.
But you'd suspected Carlos and Jill wouldn't pass up the chance to say farewell in private.
“Yes,” you answered firmly. “I have to know. If I'm not back within a day, keep sailing.” You grinned up at them. “A pirate's life.”
Oh, how you had loved the pirate life. Under the flag of Captain Carlos Oliveira, the Nemesis had grown larger and more luxurious, her captain famous and infamous alike for his all-female crew. You had been chased here and there over the years – but never because of noble titles. Only because of the reputation you'd chosen for yourselves.
Carlos grinned right back. The years had barely touched his sun-kissed face. A few more laugh lines here and there, but nothing more. Only evidence of a life well lived. The same was true for Jill. You'd never figured out how she managed to keep her alabaster skin exactly the same.
“Aye, and a bottle of rum.” He mimed nudging you.
“We'll miss you,” Jill said, smiling sadly and encouragingly at the same time.
“And I will never forget you.”
To keep things from becoming even harder for all of you, you turned away and started walking toward town. You didn't look back, only forward, eager to ask about one very specific man.
Your path led you straight out of town, across meadows and fields, until you reached a farm. Someone had told you Leon Kennedy ran it. Leon, a farmer. Not only had he returned to Port Raccoon, he was no longer a soldier. Most importantly of all – he was alive.
Your heart hammered harder and harder the closer you came to the scent of fresh hay, the stables, and the distant whinnying of horses. Closer to the small house beside the barn – a modest but beautiful stone cottage. Oh dear, what if he was married? Or worse, what if he didn't want to see you at all? You were only a stranger.
Your stomach followed with a somersault when you spotted someone standing by the pasture. The man could have been a complete stranger, if only you didn't know his features as well as the back of your hand.
Leon stood beside a black stallion, holding the horse by its halter while inspecting its coat, long fingers brushing through the sleek fur. There was gentleness in his gaze. The same gentleness he had once looked at you with all those years ago. You had never forgotten it.
The years had changed Leon more noticeably. Fine, unmistakable lines crossed his face – the closer you came, the more you saw. The streaks of silver woven through his dark blond hair and the salt-and-pepper beard shadowing his jaw. He was a different Leon – and yet he was still your Leon. The same man who had sacrificed himself for you. If anything, he looked better now – more at peace with the world. More at peace with life.
When you reached the fence surrounding the pasture, he finally noticed you over the stallion's back. His eyes fixed on you, still as blue as the sea. If you ever missed the ocean, all you would have to do was look into them.
Your fluttering heart made one final leap when he spoke – the first time you had heard that beautiful voice in ten years. “Can I help you?”
It was rougher somehow. But still him.
“Uh – yes, I think,” you answered, carefully removing your hat so he could see your face more clearly.
When you looked up at him again, his brows had drawn together. His gaze sharpened, the hand resting in the horse's mane went still. His lips parted slightly as something visibly worked its way through his mind.
“I – I…” You didn't quite know what to say. You had practiced this moment. Thought through every word. But now none of them would come. What if he thought you were crazy?
Slowly, he stepped around the horse, eyes never leaving yours. No longer dressed in a commander's uniform but in worn trousers and a simple shirt, he looked as free as Carlos had on the day you first met the captain. The day your path had led you away from Leon.
You fidgeted nervously with the brim of your hat as he came closer and closer, half tempted to turn around and run back to the Nemesis and sink this entire idea and yourself right along with it.
Only the fence separated you when Leon's furrowed brow suddenly relaxed. His expression shifted. First surprise, eyes widening, mouth falling open. Then it melted into something utterly reverent. Something you recognized. From Port Nesta.
“Oh my God,” he breathed. His hands shot up to cradle your cheeks, then his lips were on yours.
Your hat slipped from your fingers – no longer important – and you wrapped your arms around his neck as you leaned into him – into his rough hands and his soft lips. They were exactly as you remembered. Tucked away in your memories for the difficult days at sea.
And yet his kiss was different. Even deeper, all consuming this time. It left no room for clear thoughts, only feeling. His mouth moved against yours with effortless certainty, as though ten years had never passed – as though he had never forgotten you. Strong arms wrapped around your body and lifted you effortlessly over the fence, drawing you closer. Body to body. Soul to soul. Lips to lips.
You let yourself be swept away by him, your mind blank and unwilling to question any of it. Your knees weakened, but he held you. Held you so tightly it stole your breath.
He pulled back only slightly, just enough to speak between heavy breaths against your lips while looking deeply into your eyes.
“You –” It was the only stunned word he managed.
Beneath your own ragged breathing, you found a whisper. “Do you know who I am?”
For a moment, Leon's eyes darted between yours as though he were trying with all his strength to remember your face. Then he shook his head ever so slightly.
“I don't, but…" His voice softened. “I know you're the greatest treasure. I know I've been waiting for you.”
His words broke your heart and mended it all at once. Whatever you had made him forget all those years ago – he had never forgotten you, or what you were to him.
The next syllables slipped from his lips as naturally as breathing, as though they had been waiting there for years:
“I know I love you.”
“Leon.” Your voice cracked. Tears filled your eyes, paired with the happiest smile you had ever worn. “I came to tell you a tale. Interested?”
He blinked himself free of the trance, loosening his hold on you ever so slightly. His initial confusion gave way to joy, and a contented, even amused smile played across his features.
“What is it about?”
“It’s about a princess and her pretty commander.”
End Note: Because of the Veronica announcement I will disclose that I thought about adding Chris as another Commander personally searching for his sister but that plotline got cut out by my editors (me) haha.
I don't think Chris would be a massive hugger. He hugs when you're upset or needy, but it's not his primary love language.
If you were to randomly hug him while he's doing something, whether he's standing in the kitchen making his dinner or doing something trivial like sitting on the couch on his phone, he freezes for a split second.
Hugging was never a massive part of his life. His parents hugged him before he'd leave for school when he was very young, and Claire would occasionally hug him, especially when she was younger. But, it's never been second nature to him. He usually doesn't hug someone for absolutely no reason.
When you hug him unexpectedly, his first response is to completely freeze for a split second. He's been trained for decades to react to high-stress situations and to be prepared to be hurt or put in danger. His muscle memory is geared towards threats, so a sudden, unexpected touch definitely triggers a small pause as his brain switches from "work mode" to "domestic mode."
Because hugging isn't automatic to him, his return hug might be a little clumsy at first. He wouldn't immediately wrap his arms around you with perfect ease. Instead, he might bring one large, heavy arm up to rest around your shoulders or back, giving a firm, grounding squeeze.
To break the slight awkwardness of his own delayed reaction, he'd probably clear his throat and ask something like, "everything okay?"
If you said something like, "I just wanted a hug," he'd probably let out a soft, surprised huff of air, his shoulders relaxing completely as the last bit of his guard dropped.
A tiny smile would tug at the corner of his mouth as he realized there was no emergency, no bad news, and no underlying problem to fix. He’s so used to being a problem solver and a protector that the concept of someone just wanting to be close to him for the sake of it takes a moment to sink in.
Once it does, he’d tighten his heavy arm around you, pulling you a bit closer against his side. He’d rest his chin on the top of your head for a second or just keep you tucked under his arm while he went right back to whatever he was doing.
He'd probably mutter something like, "alright, fine" as if it's a massive inconvenience, even though the immediate softening of his posture completely gives him away.
A/N: Just a random thought I had. Hope you enjoyed ♡
hii! I hope ur taking requests right now cause I have an idea ive been thinking about for a little bit... leon kennedy x gn! reader whos like a master at cooking. like they graduated from culinary collage type. mabye leon is just getting back from a mission, driving in the Porsche back home and hes getting restless cause all he wants to do is eat reader's cooking.
thank u in advance if u make it, but its okay if u dont!! :D
In Time For Supper
relationshop: leon kennedy x gn!reader
tags: fluff. that's it. and cooking, because of course!
a/n: wonderful idea, anon! i got carried away with this one, and it ended up longer than expected cause it was so fun to write lol
wc: 1.5k
5:50 PM- you begin prep. You cut chicken, season it with salt and pepper, and turn the oven on. Chilies, onions, and bell peppers are sliced in ribbons, and spices are gathered in small ramekins.
Around 6:10 or so, the chicken needs to be browned on both sides before you cook the onion and bell pepper. The chicken goes in easy, sizzling to a honey-colored finish, and you move it to a separate pan. You add the bell pepper and onion next, and you watch the vegetables soften in the pan, smooth pieces of orange, red, and white blending under the golden kitchen lights. You give the pan a short toss, admiring the glimmer of how the glistening vegetables jump. The smell of caramelized onions and lemon greets you, and when the toss lands perfectly without a drop of oil on your hand, you continue shifting the veggies in the pan with a professional sort of manner.
Music plays as you work. Sometimes it's something pop-like; other times, an upbeat hip-hop rhythm. But tonight you've decided on something golden, like those same overhead lights, so the melodic tunes of soft jazz pour from the Bluetooth speaker attached to your phone.
The best way into a person's heart is through their stomach, which is a quote you live and die by without questioning. Food has a way of bridging the gap between people, a universal language shared by everyone. You've seen the magic it plays, food- you've seen years of tension between families melt with a dish shared during dinners, seen awkward first dates blossom into marriages because of a dining experience that they couldn't help but bond over, seen things like these happen over and over again, each like a bandage that heals. It was what led you to pursue a culinary degree, to work in kitchens all over the world, each place's cuisine better than the last, and ultimately to Leon.
How you met deserves its own story, you like to say shorthandedly when people ask, but all you find important about it is that you're together now. You both met on the job, you can recall- you were working at Le Procope in Paris, and he happened to be there because of a mission- and while it was a rather awkward initiation phase, complete with growing pains and lots of extended, thoughtful discussions with each other, you both ended up here, and wouldn't have it any other way.
At around 6:30, you've layered the chilies, spices, black beans, cherry tomatoes, rice, and chicken in a skillet, already baking in the oven, and are bringing gnocchi to a boil in a small saucepan when your phone rings and the music halts to a stop, pausing your flow.
You check to see who's calling. Leon.
----
"Good evening," your voice pours from his phone's speakers, "Everything alright?"
"Yeah, just peachy," says Leon, and from his phone he can hear the typical sounds of you bustling around the kitchen: pots are being stirred, something sizzling in the pan, music in the background. Even from here, it already loosens the knot that's been building in his chest.
"I'm on my way back now. We finished up here early." This particular mission took way shorter than expected to complete, but even with the early dismissal, he can feel restlessness starting to set in his bones like an itch he can’t scratch. The Porsche's engine is a low growl that thrums a steady tune as he presses the gas pedal, and the scenery outside the car starts to melt into painted blurs of green and brown.
"Oh, that's good," he can hear you murmur, seeming a little distracted. He doesn't have to think that hard to guess that you're probably holding the phone between your shoulder and ear, your hands busy with what unmistakably sounds like dinner prep. "Well, I've got started on supper tonight, if you can't tell already," you say casually, "I'd let you know what I'm working on, but then that'd ruin the surprise."
A truck with bright headlights passes by, and it makes him squint. "I'm sure whatever you're making right now is guaranteed to taste good."
"Well, of course, otherwise you'd be doing all the cooking, God forbid."
Leon has tried to cook with you, or for you, on multiple occasions. Don't get it twisted- he's fairly decent at putting together something that tastes nice, but he can't do it as you do. He can try to recreate the combinations of ingredients, spices, heat, and time you put together into the dish, but somehow it simply doesn't come out the same. You've got him convinced that you can do some kind of magic when it comes to this stuff- you've got the golden ratio of spice assortments filed in your head, or know how things taste without trying it first- either way, he can't help but be impressed. It's just another one of those things that you surprise him with. He can hear the oven beep from your side of the exchange. “Hey, don’t ‘God forbid’ me. I can cook on Friday night. It’ll blow your culinary-school-Michelin-Star mind,” he quips sarcastically.
“Yeeeah, okay. We’ll see about that.” There’s a loud clatter, and he can hear you swear under your breath. “Dropped something. Listen, I’ll call you back, okay? Or actually, no- how close are you to the house right now?”
He checks the GPS on the Porsche’s console screen. Forty minutes. If he tries hard enough, he’s sure he can make it in half that, because jeez, he really is starving. Surviving off of MREs and water for three days does something to a man.
“I’m forty minutes out,” he says. “I can make it in twenty-five, maybe.”
“Unless you have a get out of jail free card after you get your butt thrown into the slammer for going 90 in a 60, then I suggest you cool your jets there, sir,” you warn him carefully. Little do you know, but he’s actually going 110. He’d tell you, just to prove you wrong, but a part of him advises that the earful of scolding isn’t worth it.
He hmms in consideration. “I’ll be as discreet as possible.”
“Discreet, my ass. There’s nothing discreet about driving around in a two-hundred-thousand-dollar car that’s also going twice the speed limit.” You pause. “I’m not bailing you out this time, either.”
He shrugs. “I can pay my own bail.”
“You’re missing the point.”
“Nah, I don’t think so.”
There’s an incomprehensible string of angry grumbling from your end of the call, and he can’t help but smile a little to himself.
“If you get arrested for speeding, you’ll completely miss dinner,” you point out.
“I guess so,” he concedes.
“Exactly. So don’t be an idiot, and I’ll see you when you get back home,” you say. “Okay, I have to go now because if I keep calling you I’m bound to burn something to a crisp.” He can hear the kitchen faucet turn on. “Okay, love you. Don’t be too late.”
“See you,” he says, and you hang up. The bite of hunger is starting to sink its teeth into him. Yeah, he’s gotta get back already, screw the traffic management system. He can get away with speeding, he’s sure.
It is around seven o’clock when Leon arrives, which means that he absolutely went way over the speed limit on the route back home, much to your dismay, but regardless, he arrives perfectly in time for dinner.
He pulls into the driveway just as you walk outside to greet him, and when you connect the dots to form the conclusion that he indeed did not follow the law on the journey back, you pinch his side with your forefinger and thumb when he pulls you in for a hug. “I told you not to pull that shit again,” you gripe, but there’s no bite behind your words, and you wrap an arm around him.
He kisses the top of your head. “Can’t miss supper,” he says lightly.
He can smell whatever you’ve cooked wafting in through the room. The kitchen is halfway clean; most of the dirty dishes are contained in the sink, the stove is turned off, with a couple of pots still sitting on the burners. He knows he’ll be put on dish duty afterwards, but he doesn’t mind. It’s only fair, anyway.
“Go wash your hands,” you tell him, giving him a light push towards the sink. “Everything’s all set up in the dining room.”
“You got it, boss,” he replies.
When he enters the dining room, you’re already sitting in the chair opposite to him. “Well, don’t be a stranger,” you say, chin resting on your hand, eyes following him as he takes a seat.
You point to a dish filled with chicken, rice, beans, and other things he can’t quite make out. “Skillet chicken with black beans, rice, and chilies.” You point to a smaller container, “gnocchi gratin,” and to a wooden bowl, “And then some arugula salad with lemon vinaigrette.”
“Damn, you didn’t have to make all of this just for dinner,” he says after a second, and like he usually does, he feels a little guilty for not helping with making it, but you tell him the same thing you always say, and it makes him smile every time.
“Yeah, well, you can make it up to me by cleaning up the kitchen.” You push one of the plates toward him. “Now eat.”
Leon never expected to come home to find you asleep on the kitchen counter.
Yet there you were.
Your head rested on folded arms, a half-finished cup of coffee beside you and a note scribbled on a napkin that simply read:
“Waited for you. Failed.”
A tired laugh escaped him.
After weeks away on a mission, he'd imagined a dramatic reunion. Maybe you'd run into his arms. Maybe he'd finally get one peaceful evening without some new disaster showing up.
Instead, you were drooling on his countertop.
Perfect.
Leon quietly set down his duffel bag and walked over. Even asleep, you looked exhausted. You'd probably stayed up far later than you should have waiting for him.
His chest tightened.
No matter how many monsters he fought or impossible situations he survived, coming home to you always felt unreal.
Carefully, he brushed a strand of hair from your face.
Your nose scrunched.
Then your eyes slowly opened.
For a second you stared at him blankly.
Then—
“Leon?”
“Hey, sweetheart.”
You shot upright so fast the coffee nearly spilled.
“Oh my God, you're actually here!”
Before he could answer, you launched yourself at him.
Leon caught you automatically, laughing as your arms wrapped around his neck.
“Missed you too.”
“You were gone forever.”
“It was two weeks.”
“Forever.”
He couldn't argue with that.
You buried your face against his shoulder, and he felt the tension he'd carried for days finally begin to disappear.
Being here.
With you.
Safe.
That was all he wanted.
After a moment, you pulled back and narrowed your eyes.
“You look tired.”
“I am tired.”
“You need food.”
“I just got here.”
“And a shower.”
“You're very bossy for someone who fell asleep waiting.”
You gasped dramatically.
“I was resting my eyes.”
“On the counter?”
“It was strategic.”
Leon laughed again, the sound softer this time.
God, he'd missed this.
Missed you.
Without warning, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
The teasing immediately died on your lips.
Your expression softened.
“So...” you murmured. “You're staying for a while this time?”
Leon wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer.
“As long as they'll let me.”
“Good.”
You smiled.
And finally after weeks in hell, Leon Kennedy felt completely at peace.
Because no matter where the job took him, no matter how dangerous the world became—
summary: Working alongside Leon S. Kennedy means being seen more than you’d like. He notices your routines, your repeated checks, the quiet anxiety you try to hide—and instead of rushing you, he stays. Patiently. Carefully. Every single time.
pairings: leon kennedy x OCD! reader
【WC 1.01k】
Leon Kennedy had spent most of his life learning how to notice things other people missed. It kept people alive.
A twitch before someone pulled a trigger.
A footprint in the wrong direction.
The slight delay in someone’s answer when they lied.
Patterns mattered.
That was probably why he noticed yours so quickly. Not because they were obvious.
Because they weren’t.
You hid them well enough that most people in the agency never paid attention. To them, you were just reliable. Quiet. Maybe a little too meticulous during operations, but in this line of work, nobody complained about thoroughness.
Leon knew better.
He noticed the way you checked your sidearm multiple times before every mission.
Not randomly. In sequence.
Magazine.
Safety.
Slide.
Holster.
Then again.
And sometimes again after that.
He noticed how your fingers hovered over locked doors after everyone else already moved on. How your shoulders stiffened whenever briefings changed unexpectedly. How interruptions seemed to throw your concentration off completely, even if you recovered fast enough that nobody else caught it.
And the thing was—
You looked frustrated every time it happened.
Like your own brain annoyed you.
That part bothered Leon more than he expected.
The first time he almost said something was during a late-night operation briefing.
The conference room smelled like stale coffee and printer ink while agents shuffled through mission reports half-asleep. Someone near the back kept clicking their pen repeatedly like they were trying to drive everybody insane.
Leon leaned against the wall near the projector screen, arms crossed loosely over his chest while listening to the mission outline.
Or pretending to.
His attention kept drifting back to you instead.
You sat near the middle of the table, focused on organizing your papers into neat stacks while the others talked over each other.
Tap.
Straighten.
Adjust.
Tap again.
Your pen lined up perfectly with the edge of your notebook.
Then an agent beside you accidentally bumped the table. The pen shifted slightly out of place. Leon saw the exact moment it happened.
The pause.
The subtle tension in your jaw.
The way your eyes flicked back toward it immediately.
Nobody else noticed.
You quietly moved it back into alignment before continuing to take notes like nothing happened.
Leon looked away before he got caught staring.
“Any questions?” the team leader asked from the front.
Silence.
Then you spoke carefully.
“…How many entry points are confirmed again?”
A few people sighed quietly.
Someone muttered, “It’s literally on the slide.”
Leon’s eyes narrowed immediately.
Because he heard it.
And apparently so did you. Your posture tightened almost invisibly.
The team leader repeated the information quickly anyway before moving on, but Leon saw the way you stopped writing for a moment afterward.
That annoyed him more than it should have.
By the end of the briefing, most agents filtered out of the room quickly, already talking about transportation and equipment prep.
You stayed behind. Of course you did.
Leon pretended to check his phone while watching you reorganize your notes for the second time.
Then a third.
Your brows pinched faintly together. Leon finally sighed.
“Y’know,” he said casually, pushing himself off the wall, “if those papers attack you, I’m legally required to intervene.”
You looked up abruptly.
For half a second, genuine surprise crossed your face before it softened into reluctant amusement.
“…Was that supposed to be funny?”
“No,” Leon deadpanned. “I’m devastatingly serious.”
A quiet laugh escaped you despite yourself.
There it was again.
That tiny change in your expression that made you look lighter somehow.
Leon hated how much he liked being the reason for it.
You gathered the papers into your folder carefully. “You stay after every briefing just to bother people?”
“Only the ones I like.”
The words slipped out naturally. Too naturally. Leon realized it exactly one second too late. Your eyes widened slightly.
So did his internally. Smooth, Kennedy.
Years of government training and that’s what comes out of your mouth?
He cleared his throat immediately.
“I mean—”
“You’re trying to fix your sentence,” you said quietly.
Leon pointed at you once. “See? Sharp instincts. That’s why they keep you around.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“That’s what my therapist says.”
“You have a therapist?”
“No,” he admitted. “But it sounded responsible.”
Another laugh. Warmer this time.
Leon smiled faintly before he could stop himself.
Then he noticed your hands again.
You were checking the zipper on your bag repeatedly while talking to him.
One.
Two.
Three.
Your expression changed subtly after the third check, like your brain finally eased enough to let you breathe.
And suddenly something clicked into place for him.
Not nervousness.
Not superstition.
Something deeper than that.
Leon’s humor faded slightly—not out of judgment, but understanding.
He’d seen anxiety before.
Compulsions too.
Enough to recognize the look in your eyes whenever you got stuck in your own head.
The important part was this.
You were trying.
Constantly.
Even when nobody noticed.
Especially then.
Leon leaned one shoulder against the table beside you.
“You know,” he said casually, “for the record, I don’t mind waiting.” You blinked at him.
“What?”
He shrugged lightly.
“For checks. Re-checks. Whatever.*
Your expression shifted instantly.
Guarded now.
“You noticed.”
It wasn’t really a question.
Leon kept his tone easy on purpose.
“Kinda hard not to when you inspect equipment like it personally offended you.”
A horrified sound escaped you. “Oh my god.”
“What? I respect dedication.”
“You weren’t supposed to notice.”
That hurt more than it should have.
Because the embarrassment in your voice sounded practiced.
Expected.
Leon’s gaze softened slightly.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “I noticed because I pay attention. Not because there’s something wrong with you.”
Silence settled briefly between you.
You looked down at your bag instead of at him.
“…Most people get annoyed.”
Leon snorted softly.
“Most people also think pineapple on pizza is acceptable, so their judgment means nothing to me.”
That startled another laugh out of you.
Mission accomplished.
Leon looked at you for a second longer than necessary afterward.
And maybe that should’ve concerned him more than it did.
summary: A storm strands you and Leon Kennedy in a broken-down cabin after a mission goes wrong. Years of tension, unspoken feelings, and arguments about "resigning for your safety" finally crack under pressure. He keeps trying to push you away. You keep refusing to leave. And somewhere between rain, anger, and exhaustion. Leon finally stops pretending he doesn't care.
pairings: leon kennedy x reader
RIN'S NOTE: I don’t really know where this fic is going it’s basically just me running on empty brain cells and a strong love for men being emotionally down bad. Hope you’re into that too.
【WC 3.19k】
Rain hammered against the trees hard enough to blur the entire forest into shifting shadows.
Your lungs burned as you ran.
Branches clawed at your sleeves, mud slipping beneath your boots while distant screeches echoed somewhere behind you. Too close. Way too close.
Ahead of you, Leon shoved through the treeline first, flashlight cutting through the storm.
“Cabin,” he called over the rain. “Move.”
You stumbled on the incline, your boot catching on a root hidden beneath the mud.
A curse left your mouth as your balance gave out. Before you could hit the ground completely, a hand caught your arm hard.
Leon. As always.
His grip tightened instantly. “You trying to die out here?” he snapped breathlessly.
“You say that like it was on purpose.”
“With you? Fifty-fifty.”
Even in the middle of a nightmare, he still had jokes.
Typical.
Thunder cracked overhead as Leon pulled you upright again, keeping a hand at your back while the two of you pushed toward the cabin through the storm.
By the time the door slammed shut behind you, both of you were drenched.
Rainwater dripped from Leon’s jacket onto the wooden floorboards.
The cabin was barely standing—dusty furniture, old shelves, a couch that looked one bad day away from collapsing—but it had walls, and right now, that was enough.
Leon checked the windows first. Always the windows. You leaned against the wall, catching your breath while peeling your soaked gloves off. Then you noticed it.
Leon kept looking over at you. Quick glances at first.
Your hands.
Your face.
The scrape near your temple.
Like he was checking to make sure you were still there.
“You gonna keep staring at me,” you muttered, “or are you planning to help me start a fire?”
Leon paused near the window. For half a second, his eyes lingered again. Warm brown softened by exhaustion.
Then, finally.
“Was thinking about it,” he said. “But watching you struggle builds character.” You let out a laugh despite yourself.
And for the first time that night, Leon smiled too. Small. Tired. Real.
Outside, something screamed in the distance. Neither of you mentioned how close it sounded.
Leon dropped his bag beside the couch with a heavy thud before crouching near the cold fireplace.
“Alright,” he muttered, pulling a lighter from his pocket. “Good news? We’re alive."
You peeled off your soaked jacket with a grimace. “And the bad news?”
“The couch looks possessed.”
A quiet snort escaped you.
Leon glanced up at the sound immediately.
There it was again—that look.
Subtle enough that someone else might’ve missed it, but not you.
His eyes lingered for a second too long before he looked back down at the fireplace, jaw tightening faintly like he’d caught himself doing it.
The lighter flicked once. Twice. On the third try, the fire finally caught.
Warm orange light filled the cabin slowly, softening the harsh shadows across Leon’s face.
God.
He looked exhausted, yet still so handsome
Wet hair falling over his forehead, sleeves pushed up, dirt and rain still clinging to his skin. There was a fresh cut near his lip you didn’t remember seeing earlier.
“You’re bleeding,” you said quietly.
Leon touched the corner of his mouth.
“Huh.” He looked at the blood on his thumb. “Guess the other guy looked worse.”
“That was terrible.”
“Thank you.”
You rolled your eyes, moving closer to the fire for warmth. Your clothes clung uncomfortably to your skin, freezing from the rain. Leon noticed immediately.
Without a word, he shrugged off his leather jacket and held it out toward you. You blinked.
“Leon—"
“Take it.”
“You’ll freeze.”
“I’m used to it.”
Something about the way he said it made your chest ache. Like being cold was normal to him now. Like exhaustion was something he carried so often he stopped noticing it.
You took the jacket carefully. It was still warm from his body. Leon watched you pull it on, quiet for a moment. Then...
“Looks better on you anyway.”
You looked up.
He was already staring.
Not teasing this time.
Just… looking.
The fire crackled softly between you. And suddenly the cabin felt smaller than before.
You swallowed. “You know, for someone who acts emotionally unavailable, you’re weirdly nice to me.”
Leon leaned back against the wall near the fireplace, one knee pulled up slightly.
“Don’t spread that around,” he said. “I’ve got a reputation.”
“You? Mysterious and brooding?”
“Exactly."
“You made a couch possession joke ten minutes ago.”
“That’s called range.”
You laughed again, quieter this time. Leon’s expression softened at the sound.
Not a full smile. Just enough to make something warm twist painfully in your chest.
Outside, rain hammered against the roof.
Inside, Leon kept looking at you like he was trying very hard not to.
Leon had seen people freeze under pressure before. Seen panic. Shock. Fear.
But watching you laugh in the middle of all this?
That did something dangerous to him.
The firelight flickered across your face while you sat wrapped in his jacket, sleeves covering your hands. Your hair was still damp from the rain, cheeks flushed faintly from the cold, and somehow you still found the energy to tease him like the world outside wasn’t filled with infected nightmares trying to tear both of you apart.
It should’ve annoyed him. Instead, he couldn’t stop looking at you.
Which was becoming a problem.
Leon rested his head back lightly against the wall, forcing his attention toward the windows again.
Focus. He thought
Check exits.
Count ammo.
Stay alert.
Simple.
But every few seconds his eyes drifted back anyway.
To you adjusting the oversized sleeves of his jacket. To the tiny crease between your brows while staring into the fire. To the scrape near your temple that still made his stomach twist unpleasantly every time he noticed it.
You almost died tonight.
The thought hit him again, sharp and ugly.
One wrong second in the forest—
one slip in the mud—
and he would’ve lost you. Leon exhaled slowly through his nose. Don’t do this.
Not again.
He already knew how this story went. Caring too much got people killed. It always did. And after years of blood, funerals, and watching good people disappear, Leon had gotten good at keeping things at a distance.
At least, he used to be.
Then you looked over at him suddenly. Caught him staring again.
“…You know,” you murmured, “most people blink every now and then.”
Damn.
Leon looked away first, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.
“Just making sure you’re still alive.”
You smiled softly at that. Soft enough that something in his chest pulled tight. So instead of saying what he was actually thinking, Leon did what he always did best.
Deflect.
“Well,” he said, glancing toward the storm outside, “if anything breaks through that window, I’m throwing the possessed couch at it first.” A laugh escaped you immediately.
There it was again. That sound.
And Leon hated how badly he wanted to keep hearing it.
The storm had only gotten worse. Rain slammed against the cabin roof in violent waves while thunder rattled the walls hard enough to make the old windows tremble. The fire between you and Leon had burned lower now, leaving the room dim and heavy with orange shadows.
Too quiet.
Leon sat at the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees while he cleaned his pistol with practiced movements. You watched him from across the room.
“Do you ever stop working?” you asked quietly.
“Do you?”
The answer came too fast. Sharp. You frowned faintly.
Leon noticed immediately, but instead of apologizing, he kept his eyes on the gun in his hands.
Typical.
Something frustrated twisted in your chest.
“You’ve been acting weird since we got here.” Leon gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah? Maybe getting chased through a forest by infected psychopaths put me in a mood.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Silence. The kind that pressed against your ribs. Leon finally set the pistol down harder than necessary.
“You almost died tonight.”
“There it is.”
His jaw tightened. “And you slipped.”
“And you caught me.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
The fire cracked loudly between you. Leon dragged a tired hand down his face before standing abruptly, pacing toward the window. Rainwater streaked down the glass, blurring the darkness outside.
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then quietly “You should’ve resigned.”
Your breath caught. Not because you hadn’t heard him before.
But because after all these years, it still hurt every time he said it.
You stared at his back. “Leon—”
“I mean it.”
He still wouldn’t look at you.
“You’re good at this job,” he continued, voice low and rough, “too good. But this life—” he gestured vaguely toward the storm outside “—it doesn’t end well for people like us.”
A bitter laugh escaped you.
“People like us?”
“Don’t.”
“No, tell me.” You stood now too, anger rising hotter than the fire ever could. “What exactly are people like us, Leon?”
Finally, he turned. God.
That look in his eyes nearly ruined you.
Exhausted. Afraid. Furious.
Not at you. At himself.
“At some point,” he said quietly, “you’re supposed to want more than this.”
The words hit harder than shouting ever could.
“You think I don’t?”
“I think you deserve a life that isn’t…” He swallowed hard. “This.”
His eyes dragged across your face slowly. Lingering. Like they always did.
Like he couldn’t help it even now.
“You could still leave,” he murmured. “You could have a family someday. Something normal.” Something inside you snapped.
“And what?” you shot back. “You think I can just walk away?”
“Yes.”
“No, you want me to.”
Silence.
Leon looked away first.
That was answer enough. Your chest ached.
Years. Years of almost-confessions. Lingering touches. Late-night calls. The way he looked at you like you mattered too much.
And still—
still—
he kept trying to push you away.
“You know what’s funny?” Your voice shook despite your effort to steady it. “You keep telling me to leave like you haven’t spent years making sure I stayed alive.”
Leon’s expression faltered.
“You don’t get to care about me this much and then act like I’m better off without you.”
The room went still. Rain hammered the roof overhead. Leon stared at you like the words physically hurt.
“You think I don’t know that?” he asked quietly.
Oh.
That almost broke you.
He laughed then, tired and bitter, shaking his head. “God.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “This is exactly why I didn’t want this to happen.”
Your throat tightened. “Didn’t want what?”
His eyes lifted to yours again. Honest this time. Completely defenseless.
“You.”
The cabin felt smaller with every breath.
Rain hammered the roof like something was trying to get in, but neither of you moved toward the windows anymore. Not after that last word. You.
It hung there between you and Leon like a live wire.
His expression had changed—subtle at first, then sharper. The exhaustion was still there, but now it was buried under something heavier. Something controlled. Something dangerous.
Not rage in the loud sense. Worse.
The kind Leon only had when he stopped pretending he didn’t care. You took a step forward before you could stop yourself.
“I know,” you said quietly and certain.
Leon’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“…Know what?”
You let out a shaky breath, and this time the anger came with it. Years of it. Years of swallowing words. Years of standing just close enough to him to feel everything but never close enough to say it.
“I know what you’re doing,” you said. “You’ve been doing it for years.”
His jaw tightened.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
You laughed once, sharp and humorless.
“You think I don’t understand what this is? You think I don’t see the way you look at me?”
Leon straightened slowly. That alone changed the air.
Less casual now. Less tired. More… him.
“You should stop talking,” he said quietly.
It wasn’t a threat. Not exactly.
But your body reacted anyway. You didn’t stop.
“I know you told me to resign because you think I’d be safer,” you continued, voice rising now. “I know you say it like you don’t care, like it’s just logic, like it’s just some mission briefing—”
“Enough.”
The word cut through the room. Low. Controlled.
But it hit harder than shouting. You froze for half a second. Then something in you snapped.
“No,” you said, stepping closer again. “No, Leon. I’m done letting you decide what I feel.”
His eyes locked onto yours immediately. And this time— No deflection. No sarcasm.
Just intent.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said.
“I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
His voice dropped lower.
“You think it’s just this—” he gestured between you, sharp and restrained “—this tension, this idea you’ve built in your head because we survived a few nights together?”
Your chest burned.
“You think I imagined it?”
Leon took one step forward. Then another. Slow. Controlled.
Until there wasn’t much space left between you and him at all. When he spoke again, it was quieter.
More dangerous.
“You want honesty?” he said. “Fine.”
Your breath caught. His gaze didn’t move.
“I don’t sleep after missions,” he admitted. “Not really. And when I do, it’s worse because you’re there anyway.”
Your anger faltered for half a second.
He saw it. He always saw it.
And it made something in his expression tighten. “I told you to resign,” he continued, voice rougher now, “because every time I think about you staying in this field, I see how this ends.”
Your throat tightened. “That’s not your decision.” His eyes darkened.
“No,” he agreed.
A beat.
Then—
“But I keep making it anyway.”
The room went still again. Rain. Fire. Breath.
That was it. Then you stepped forward again.
Anger breaking into something sharper.
“You don’t get to say all of that and still push me away,” you said, voice shaking now. “You don’t get to act like I’m just some mistake you’re trying to prevent.”
Leon didn’t move back. Didn’t blink.
Just stared at you like he was holding himself together by force alone.
“That’s not what you are,” he said quietly.
“Then what am I?”
Something in Leon cracked just slightly.
“You’re the reason I keep failing at it,” he said.
Your breath stopped completely. Leon looked away first as his jaw clenched.
Leon didn’t move back. Neither did you.
The space between you felt unreal now—thin, fragile, like one breath too deep could shatter whatever control he had left.
His eyes stayed locked on yours.
No jokes now.
No deflection.
No distance.
Just him. And everything he’d been trying not to say for years.
“I told you to resign,” Leon said quietly, voice rough around the edges, “because I couldn’t stand the idea of you not coming back one day.”
Your breath caught. He didn’t stop.
“That’s it,” he added, almost bitterly. “That’s the reason.”
The honesty hit harder than any confession you could’ve imagined. Your anger faltered completely.
“…Leon,” you whispered.
His jaw tightened like he regretted saying it already…but he didn’t take it back.
He couldn’t.
“You keep thinking I’m trying to control your life,” he continued, voice lower now, strained. “I’m trying to survive mine.”
A pause.
His gaze flickered—just once—to your lips again.
This time, he didn’t hide it fast enough.
You saw.
And something in your chest broke open.
“You don’t get to decide that for me,” you said softly.
“I know.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
The fire crackled behind you both, the only sound in the room besides rain and breathing that had gotten too uneven to ignore.
Leon exhaled slowly.
“I’ve been doing this a long time,” he said quietly. “And every time I get close to something good, it gets taken away.”
His eyes softened just slightly.
“That’s what I’m trying to stop.”
Your voice came out smaller than you expected. “You think I’m going to disappear.”
Leon didn’t answer right away. Then, barely above a whisper
“I think I already lost too many people to pretend I won’t lose you too.”
The kind that didn’t feel empty anymore.It felt full. Heavy. Honest.
You stepped closer first this time. Slow. Careful. Leon didn’t stop you. But his breath changed when you did.
“You’re wrong,” you said quietly.
His eyes flickered.
“I’m still here.”
A beat. Then another.
Leon’s hand twitched at his side—like he was fighting instinct.
“You shouldn’t be,” he said, but it came out weaker now. You shook your head.
“Yeah?” you whispered. “Or maybe you just don’t know how to let me stay.”
That did it.
Something in him finally cracked fully—not loudly, not violently—but completely.
His hand came up, slow and hesitant, like he was giving himself one last chance to stop.
But he didn’t. Fingers brushed your cheek first. Warm despite everything. Careful like you might disappear if he wasn’t gentle enough. Your breath stopped.
Leon’s eyes dropped to your face again—slower this time, no restraint left to hide behind.
“…I hate this,” he murmured.
Your heart stuttered. “What?”
He gave a quiet, tired exhale that almost sounded like a laugh.
“How much I want you to stay,” he admitted.
That was it. No more distance. No more arguments.
Just truth, finally out in the open where it had always been sitting between you both.
You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you reached up and gently grabbed the front of his soaked shirt. Pulled him just slightly closer.
A question. Not a demand.
Leon’s eyes closed for half a second. Like he’d been holding his breath for years. Then he leaned in.
And pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.It lingered there…warm, steady, careful. Like he was trying to memorize the feeling before it could be taken away.
When he pulled back just slightly, his hand still stayed at your cheek. His forehead rested briefly against yours.
A quiet exhale between you. No jokes now.
Just him, finally letting himself stay close. Outside, the storm kept raging.
summary: you come back from a mission with leon, furious at how reckless he was, and you spend the next hour following him around headquarters yelling at him. but leon isn’t really listening to the anger—he’s watching how you won’t let him out of your sight, and slowly realizes it was never just anger.
pairings: leon kennedy x reader
RIN'S NOTE: I first came across this idea on tiktok. Her account is @/oglexistar, and I love her sm. She is hilarious. She has a lot going on with her content, so you guys should follow her. While watching this video, all I can think about is Leon, even though her idea is supposed to be Gojo from JJK which is also making me giggle about it too hehe. I hope it was fun for all of you!
【 WC 1.66k 】
The mission had been over for almost an hour.
Unfortunately, your anger had not.
"You are unbelievable."
Leon didn't even look up.
The man had the audacity to be sitting at a workbench in the armory, calmly disassembling his handgun while you followed him around headquarters like an extremely angry shadow.
"You drove a motorcycle through a second-story window."
A click. A magazine dropped into his hand.
"It worked."
"It was insane."
"It was effective."
You stared at the side of his head. Leon Kennedy, apparently, had chosen today to be the most irritating man alive.
"You know what?" you continued. "I don't even know why I bother arguing with you."
"That's a good question."
Your eye twitched. Across the room, another agent wisely decided to leave. Coward.
Leon continued cleaning his weapon as if you weren't standing there mentally preparing several crimes.
The worst part?
He wasn't even trying to defend himself. That somehow made it worse.
"You almost got yourself killed."
"Didn't."
"That's not the point."
"Hm."
That stupid sound. That stupid, knowing sound. You pointed at him immediately.
"Stop doing that."
"Doing what?"
"That."
"Very specific."
"Oh my God."
Leon chuckled under his breath. You wanted to throw something at him. Instead, you followed him when he stood. Of course you did.
He moved from the armory to the hallway.
You followed.
“What you did on the mission is unbelievable!”
Then the break room.
You followed.
“How can you be so chill about this?!”
Then his office.
You followed.
“How can you be such a stupid bastard?!”
At this point, it had become less of an argument and more of a lifestyle.
"You know," Leon said as he walked, "most people celebrate after successful missions."
"We almost died."
"We didn't."
"That's not helping."
"It should."
"It doesn't."
Leon opened his office door and let's you in first as he step aside while you keep throwing curses at him.
You marched right past him. Still talking. Still irritated.
Still completely unaware that he was watching you more than he was listening.
You didn't even notice that he open the door for you first before he follows you inside. A gentleman, truly. The door clicked shut behind him. You barely noticed.
"You jumped off a moving vehicle."
"You would've complained if I stayed on it."
"I would've preferred that over watching you launch yourself into traffic."
Leon dropped a folder onto his desk. Then your gun beside it. Cleaned. Maintained. Already put back together.
You hadn't even realized he'd taken it from you earlier.
"You're impossible."
"Probably."
"You never think."
"I do."
"No, you don't."
"I thought about jumping through the window."
"That is the problem!."
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
You hated that grin. Mostly because it always made him look unfairly handsome.
You continued pacing. Around the desk. Past the bookshelf. Back toward the door.
Still talking. Still venting. Still going.
Leon watched for another minute before finally sighing. Long. Patient.
The kind of sigh a man released when he'd finally figured something out.
"Are you done barking, baby?"
The room went silent. You froze mid-step. Slowly. Very slowly. You turned toward him.
"...Excuse me?"
Leon leaned back against his desk. Completely unbothered.
"I was just asking."
"You were just asking?"
"Yeah.”
Your jaw dropped. "What the hell are you talking about?" His expression remained infuriatingly calm.
"I asked a question."
"You called me a dog."
"No."
"Leon."
"I asked if my woman was done barking."
Your brain briefly stopped functioning.
"Your—"
"Yep."
"That is not the issue right now."
"Sure."
"Don't change the subject."
"I'm not."
"We almost failed the mission because of you!"
"And we also completed the mission because of me."
"You son of a—"
The insult died instantly.
Because suddenly Leon was standing right in front of you. One moment he'd been leaning against the desk. The next he'd crossed the room. Close enough that you forgot the rest of your sentence. Close enough that your heart immediately became uncooperative.
The bastard noticed. Of course he noticed.
He noticed everything.
"What's really the problem?"
His voice had changed. Less teasing. Less sarcasm. Still calm. Still steady.
But now there was something underneath it. Something that made it impossible to keep talking in circles.
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the fact that you've followed me around headquarters for the last hour."
You folded your arms. Defensive. Leon immediately clocked it.
"I was making a point."
"Hm."
"There you go again."
"Baby."
You groaned. "Don't baby me."
"Sweetheart."
"Worse." A faint smile appeared. Mission accomplished. Then it disappeared just as quickly.
"You checked on me in the armory."
You frowned.
"I was getting my equipment."
"You checked on me in the break room."
"You were making coffee."
"You checked on me in the hallway."
Your jaw tightened. Leon tilted his head slightly. The look in his eyes softened. Not enough to be obvious. Just enough for you to notice. And that somehow made everything worse.
Leon didn’t move away. That was the problem. He stayed right there.
Too close. Too calm. Too aware of everything happening inside your head like it was written on your face.
“You’re not angry,” he said again, quieter this time.
“I am.”
“No.”
You huffed. “I literally just spent an hour yelling at you.”
Leon’s eyes flickered briefly over your face. Like he was studying you. Not in a tactical way. Not like a mission.
In a way that made it impossible to keep your thoughts straight.
“That wasn’t anger,” he said.
You scoffed. “Oh? Then what was it?”
A pause. Then, casually—
“Panic.”
Your breath caught. You immediately hated that word. Hated how easily he said it. Hated that it was correct.
“I don’t panic,” you muttered.
Leon hummed. That low sound again. The one that always made your patience snap.
“You do when I disappear from your sight for more than ten seconds.”
“I was not—”
“You were counting.”
Silence. You froze. Leon tilted his head slightly.
“Armory. Hallway. Break room. Office.”
His voice stayed calm. Unbothered.
“Every time I turned around, you were still there.” Your jaw tightened. “That’s because I was still talking to you.”
“Mhm.”
He stepped half a pace closer. Not enough to trap you. Just enough that your brain stopped cooperating again.
“And every time I stopped talking,” he added, quieter, “you got closer.”
Your heart did something extremely inconvenient.
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
A beat. Then, softer.
“Baby.”
That did it. You exhaled sharply.
“Stop calling me that when I’m mad at you.” Leon’s mouth curved slightly.
“I’m not sure you are.”
Your glare should’ve been lethal. It wasn’t. Because he looked entirely too composed.
Too confident. Like he already knew how this ended. “You’re enjoying this,” you accused.
“Maybe.”
“Leon.”
He leaned slightly against the edge of his desk now. Completely relaxed. Completely unfair.
“I like when you talk to me,” he said. That alone made your brain short-circuit.
“…That’s not what I’m doing.”
“It is.”
“No, I’m— I’m yelling at you.”
“Same thing.”
Your eyes widened. “That is absolutely not the same thing.” Leon’s gaze dropped briefly to your mouth. So quick you almost thought you imagined it. Almost.
Then he looked back at your eyes. And your entire argument collapsed a little.
“…You’re insufferable,” you muttered.
“Mm.”
A pause. Then he added, casually.
“But you’re still standing here.”
Your breath hitched slightly. Because that was the problem, wasn’t it? You could’ve left.
You could’ve stormed out of his office. You didn’t. You stayed.
“You always do that,” he said quietly.
“Do what?”
“Follow me.”
You scoffed. “I do not follow you.”
Leon raised an eyebrow. The look said really?
You opened your mouth. Closed it again. Because unfortunately. He was right. Again.
Leon pushed off the desk slightly.
Now he was closer. Properly close. His voice dropped just enough to make it harder to think.
“Say it then.” Your brows furrowed. “Say what?”
“That you’re just mad.”
A beat.
“And not something else.”
Your throat tightened. You hated him. You really did. Because he was looking at you like he already knew the answer.
Like he was just waiting for you to admit it out loud.
“You’re ridiculous,” you said instead. Leon smiled faintly. “Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Mm.”
Another step closer. Now there was barely any space left between you. Not enough to back away without it being obvious.
Not enough to breathe properly.
“You know,” he said, voice lower now, “if this is your way of getting my attention…”
“I don’t need your attention.”
That came out too fast. Too sharp. Leon’s smile widened slightly.
“Oh?”
Your silence betrayed you. He noticed immediately. Of course he did. His hand lifted again. Not to touch you fully.
Just enough to adjust your collar. Slow. Deliberate.
Like he had all the time in the world.
“You’ve had it all day, sweetheart.”
Your stomach flipped. Again. Annoyingly.
“And you still followed me around,” he added softly. You glared at him. Weakly.
“That’s not—”
Leon leaned in just slightly. Not enough to kiss you. Not enough to cross the line.
Just enough that his voice brushed against you when he spoke.
“You gonna keep pretending you’re just angry?”
Your breath caught again. Because now he was definitely enjoying this. Absolutely. There was no way he wasn’t.
“Leon…”
“Yeah?”
The way he said your name this time was worse than the pet names. Because it wasn’t teasing.
It was patient. Like he was waiting you out.
Like he knew you’d fold. And worst of all?
He was right. So damn right.
You looked up at him again. And for a second, you forgot what you were even supposed to be mad about.
Which, unfortunately, seemed to be the entire point.
Summary: You have a routine of writing Leon love letters.
Pairing: re2!Leon x gf!reader
WC/Tags: 1,616 / tooth rotting fluff, love letters, Leon being smitten
A/N: inspired by ‘he’s my dreamboat’ by Connie Francis, for day 5 of @swoon-june ‘love letters’
You chew at the knub of your pen, staring down at the blank piece of scrap paper in front of you. Leon is going to be up for work any second, the hands of the clock ticking closer and closer to 6:30am, his wake up time everyday. His lunch is packed, thermos filled and sitting on the counter beside the keys to his car. All that’s missing now is your love note.
Once a week, you write Leon love letters. You made it a routine after telling him you loved him for the first time, in the dark of your living room after a heated makeout session. You had told him you loved him, that you were in love with him and it scared you that you were only a little over a year into your relationship and you felt like this, but he had said it back quickly, had cupped your face and smiled so wide it looked like it had ached.
Afterward, when he went to answer the delivery at your front door, you had scribbled a little note, ily with a heart under it and had stuffed it in his jacket pocket. The next day he had called you, saying that finding the love letter had been the highlight of his morning.
That was nearly six months ago, and it was a routine you both loved.
You rarely kept it the same, leaving love letters in his cup holder or under his keys. Beside his tooth brush or tucked into his shoes. You liked to change it up, to keep the surprise going, and Leon loved every bit of it.
You also changed what you wrote. Sometimes they were silly, little doodles of hearts and clouds and flowers with fluffy words. Other times they were bone deep, your affection for him rooted in words you struggled to say aloud.
Now as you stare at the blank paper, your mind goes the same; blank. Nothing newly astounding had happened, nothing that needed extra tenderness, but you wanted to do this for him all the same.
You tap the pen against your lip, frowning at the paper. No grand moments to write about, no first kiss anniversary, no “I'm so proud of you” for passing a test or landing a new job. Just… him. Your Leon. The one who leaves his socks in weird places and hums off-key in the shower and always remembers your coffee order.
A small smile tugs at your mouth.
You grab another sheet, crinkled notebook paper, and start drawing: tiny stick figures holding hands under a lopsided sun with rays like fireworks. One has blonde hair, spiky, messy. The other wears glasses, round frames slightly askew. Above them: “Good morning my favorite cop. Thank you for coming home every night.”
Folding it, you press your lips to the paper and slip it inside his lunch box before standing to grab your own mug of coffee. You’re halfway through with it when Leon stumbles into the kitchen, his uniform crisp but his eyes bleary, a little sleep ridden.
“Well hello sleepy head,” you laugh, putting down your mug. “Sure you’re awake?”
Leon blinks at you like he’s seeing sunlight for the first time, hair sticking up in three different directions. He shuffles forward barefoot, uniform perfectly ironed but clearly slept on, his tie a little loose and one button undone.
“Mmm… morning,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep. Without missing a beat, he leans down and kisses you right on the lips. A soft one, slow and sweet despite how half-asleep he looks. He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, eyes slowly focusing now that coffee scent is hitting him full force.
“I’m awake,” he lies through a yawn before reaching past you to grab your mug, not his, and taking a long sip of your coffee like it belongs to him too, which you supposed it does. “I’m up.”
“Sure you are,” you giggle as you study him, and reach up to flatten his hair. “I made your lunch and coffee, it’s on the counter.”
That quiet little joy flashes across his face, the one that only shows when you do something small but so meaningful to him. He turns toward the counter, still cradling your coffee mug like a lifeline.
He sees the thermos first, steam faintly rising, and picks it up, twisting off the lid to sniff. Black coffee. Just how he likes it. No sugar. Then he spots his lunchbox, the bright blue one with dog bones printed on the sides, a gift from you after adopting Rover. His chest tightens just looking at it.
Setting both items down, Leon turns back to you. In two strides, arms are around your waist and pulling you into another kiss, this time deeper, as if every morning could start like this forever.
You hum against him, eyes fluttering shut faintly. He tastes like his tooth paste and your coffee and if his job wasn’t so important you’d ask him to stay.
“You’re going to be late.” You murmur, lips parting as you speak and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue along your bottom lip.
He does, a teasing brush of his tongue that sends warmth blooming down your neck. Leon’s never been in a hurry with you. Even when he should be rushing, like now, uniform half-tied and badge still hanging loose on its lanyard, he lingers.
But the clock ticks.
A distant part of him knows this: patrol shift starts at 7:30 sharp. Chief Daniels has already given him one warning about tardiness after last month’s rain delay, not that it was his fault.
Still, he nips gently at your lip before pulling back just enough to rest his nose against yours again, breathing you in like oxygen.
“I hate mornings,” he whispers hoarsely, and then steals one more kiss because screw punctuality for thirty seconds. “When I have to leave you.”
“But you come back.” You reply and grin, your hand cupping the back of his neck to play with the blonde hair there. “I have to get ready for work too.”
He steps away from your hold, grabbing his keys and coffee in one hand and his lunch box in the other. “See you tonight?”
You nod as you follow him to the front door, placing your hand on the knob. “Should be back by five.”
“I’ll see you at five then.” Leon’s grin is boyish as you open the door, holding it for him. He dips down, kissing you once and you inhale him, the pressure of his mouth on yours like clouds.
Leon steps out first, boots hitting the porch with a quiet thud. He turns back just once before heading to his squad car, a black-and-white RPD cruiser parked at the curb, and gives you that smile. That Leon smile: bright blue eyes crinkled at the corners, hair messy from your fingers.
He raises his coffee in a silent toast to you as he walks away.
You watch him go, the way he adjusts his vest strap while walking like it's second nature now after months on patrol duty; how carefully he places both items into their designated spots inside that pristine vehicle; even how neatly folded down those stupid little air fresheners hang from rearview mirrors, you teased him for putting one up.
When he reverses you give him a little wave and vaguely through the glass you can see him wave back. As you close the door, you realize you’re grinning, again. You always seem to be when it comes to him.
Rinsing out your coffee cup, you stare out the sink window, wondering when he’ll find the note, and wondering if it’ll make him smile. You smile to yourself at the thought.
-
Leon sips from the lip of his mug carefully as he turns into the station before throwing the car into park. Twisting his neck to stretch, he gets out, gathering his items before walking in. He’s greeted by his coworkers and he nods to them, his hair bouncing with the movement before he makes it to his locker. When he opens it, he takes in the picture of you and him on Fourth of July, a sparkler in your hand and a grin on your face. It’s infectious, the way you look when you’re happy.
He places his keys on the hook before opening his lunch box to survey the contents. A sandwich, probably ham, a yogurt and a bag of nuts, with a disposable spoon tucked in the corner.
There’s another item tucked into the side though, and he fingers the paper before pulling it out.
The note is slightly crumpled from being wedged beside the yogurt, but carefully folded, neat creases like you took time with it. Leon’s breath hitches just a little.
He recognizes your handwriting immediately: that loopy G in ‘Good morning,’ the heart-shaped dot over the i.
His fingers smooth out the paper as he unfolds it, and there they are, the stick figures under their wonky sun. He stares at them for a solid five seconds, lips parting into that soft expression you exude from him.
One of his fellow officers passes by and gives him a knowing look. “Love letter?”
Leon doesn’t even snap back or play it cool like usual, he just nods once, quietly proud about something so simple as his girlfriend loving him enough to draw silly hearts on paper every week.
He tucks it gently into his breast pocket, right over where his badge sits, and closes up his lunchbox with new energy, and a grin pulling at his mouth.
x
Divider @pixopix 
AO3 link
Leon K taglist: @yours-truly-andrea @causeofmykoophoria
Summary : Leon wants to make his little girl proud by doing a backflip but he is no longer 27
Warnings : etablished relationship, no age gap (Leon 52, reader is 49), reader is a girl, mention of pregnancy, fluff, cringe?, they have a little girl, little angst, "old" parents (Leon and reader)
Parking : dad!Leon Kennedy x mom!f!reader & daughter!Leila
Notes : It's the continuation of the small series of life in Leon but "old", hope you like it <3
——————
Leon is now 52 years old, he no longer has the physical strength and flexibility he had in his twenties, but he never really noticed it thanks to his missions. He trained a lot, did sports, paid attention to his diet then during the missions he did not feel his joints creak and his back tense thanks to the adrenaline that passed through his body non-stop. After he returned from his mission which was normally to find answers about his illness, in the end it lasted several days and he almost died, he decided that it was his last mission. Then he returned to Raccon City, where it all began for him, finishing on this mission could make him turn a big page in his life.
Then when he learned of your pregnancy a few days after his return, he knew that it was now that he had to lay down his weapons. He never really knew if he wanted children later, in reality, he wanted them but for him he didn't deserve them and who would want to have children with a man like him?
You.
You with your beautiful eyes, so beautiful that he got lost.
You with your beautiful hair that shines in the sun or that sticks to your angel face when it rains.
You with your body that he only noticed later, this body that he wanted to discover from the first days you met.
You with your laugh that soothes his thoughts and relaxes his shoulders, like your hands by the way.
In short, you.
During pregnancy, Leon was rather calm, he was excited and was already starting to build a cradle when you had told him the day before. He began to panic when the months passed and your belly came to impose itself, for him you had become some very fragile and sexy things obviously not on the wrong side, he just had the impression that when your pants were above your belly, the elastic slaughter your baby through your belly... You must have had a conversation about that, because his anxiety and paranoia stressed you out.
Apart from his over protection he was attentive, you could ask for anything. Even if it was the moon he would have asked the government for a piece for you.
At the birth of your little girl- Leila. Leon cried, discreetly, but you saw the small drops on his cheekbones marked, which did not help your crying either.
You always thought Leon was a dad girl- you has seen in with sherry and now grace, and by having one, it turned out. She was his princess, he played with her, fed her, gave her her baths, changed her diaper... With every interaction he could have with his daughter, he jumped at the opportunity.
During the first 3 years of parental life, you fell in love with Leon Kennedy again.
When you wake up you realize that your husband is not by your side, which saddens you a little. You still stay in bed a little to enjoy the sweet morning. You hear Leïla's laughter downstairs with little boom boom that follow them... What's going on?
Your curiosity takes over and you get up, before getting out of bed you quickly aerate the room and very quickly make the bed and go down the stairs. When you get downstairs you understand that your daughter's little boom and laughter come from the living room, you go there and come across a rather...comical scene.
Leila is sitting on the couch, her teddy bear in her arms while she laughs at her father, who does squat jumps... You can't help but laugh at the scene that attracts the attention of the two most important people in your life.
"What are you doing, Leon?" Leon stops, already sweaty and out of breath. Leila jumps off the couch and jumps into your arms at the millisecond your voice resounded in the living room. You lifted her in your arms and kissed her cheek.
Leila answers instead of her father "Daddy shows me the things he did before saving the world!" You sneer a little and turn to Leon who feels like he has lost all the respiratory capacity of his lungs.
"You know, he could do much more things when he was younger, sweetie. Age has taken away a lot of abilities from him..." You says these words to tease him a little, which works. "Hey, I hear you, babe." He approaches you to place a kiss on your forehead, your cheeks blush and your heart runs a little, even after so many years his touch and affection still affects you so much.
"What was he doing before, Dad?" Leila's big blue eyes shine with curiosity, she wants to learn more about her dad's past. You think and say softly.
"He trained for hours, he went running in the morning, he stretched every time he got out of bed...and the missions in general that he asked his body for a lot of strength and cardio!-" Leon said nothing and looked at you only with an amused smirk, amused that in your point of view he was almost sexy when in reality he came back covered in sweat asking you for massages- even in his youth he asked for massages.
"-Oh and he also did a lot of somersaults!" Leila's big blue eyes widen and her pink lips form an O. "Woahhhh-" She turns her head towards Leon and jumps into your arms. "Dad, dad do a backflip!" The excitement was easy to read in Leila's eyes and voice, she wanted so much to see her 52 year dad do a backflip without stretching and regular training as before.
You grimace a little at the idea, already imagining the worst. "I'm not sure it's a good-" Leon won't let you finish your sentence. "Don't you believe in your dear husband, love?" He raises an amused eyebrow and shifts a little putting himself in the hallway of the hall to have space.
You follow him with Leila still in your arms, almost exploding with impatience. "Leon...Are you really sure?"
Leon shrugs his shoulders with a nonchalant smile. "Backflips can’r be forgotten, like cycling." He sends you a wink "You're talking to a former government agent."
In reality, Leon wasn't sure what he was doing, but how can he say no to Leila's big eyes similar to yours- Leila only has the color of his eyes, but she clearly has your look.
Leon clears his throat and rubs his hands and thighs. Go old man, you still have it
He swings his arms from front to back between his knees. You turn your head away and close your eyes not wanting to see this, while Leila applauds her father. "Dad, dad, dad!"
To Leon's surprise, he falls back on his feet with a big smile, but with his hands on his knees. Leila jumps out of your arms to run towards Leon "You're so strong, Dad!"
Leon smiled proudly. "I know my darling, you will have the same strength when you are older-"
Clack. It's only straightened, nothing more.
You who looked at him again see the slight change in expression on his face, the way his lips tighten and how his breath cuts off. You refrain from jumping on him out of concern, but fortunately, once her father's show is over, Leila goes back to the living room.
You're heading towards Leon. "Leon, what's going on? And don't tell me anything." Leon quickly cancels the option of not saying anything with his head and sighs, but he hiss while breathing, one of his hands comes to join his lower back.
"Um, I think I blocked my back..." His cheeks are a little pink with embarrassment. On your side, you hesitate between laughing and sighing... so you make a mixture of the two.
You gently wrap your arm around his lower back to help him a little and say. "I told you what, old man."
Leon frowns and then smiles quickly amused. "Be careful what you say, you might regret it." This time a whole laugh escapes your lips and you say more softly so that Leila doesn't hear.
"Avoid it, you will get your back, again, stuck in bed like the last time." Leon widens his eyes, shocked. "Hey! That's not really nice."
The following week was hours of sessions with the physiotherapist and the osteopath, the same two that he had seen when his back was blocked for the first time.
Pairing: Boy dad!Chris x Boy mom!reader
Word count: 3227 words
Warnings: none!
Plot: Chris Redfield is not panicking. Carrying every grocery bag by himself? Normal. Reorganizing the entire house? Reasonable. Reading medical articles at three in the morning because you mentioned a headache once? Completely justified. At least, that's what he keeps telling himself. Unfortunately, the closer fatherhood gets, the harder it becomes to ignore what's really hiding beneath all that preparation: fear.
A/N: Chris being overprotective over your pregnancy is my favorite thing after he told Leon he was overreacting 🤩, and the conversation about Piers has me crying 😭 hope you guys like this chapter ❤
P.S: I posted this chapter a little bit earlier because this weekend is the summer festival at my hometown, so 🙂 tomorrow's posts will probably follow the normal schedule ❤
Taglist: @picaroh @mmjazzbar @plumeria1 @newlybiscuit @cakeofhorrors (let me know if you want to be added!)
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January had settled over the house in a quiet, pale kind of cold, the kind that seeped through the window frames and made everything feel slightly softer, slower, like the world itself was holding its breath. You had noticed it first thing in the morning. Not the cold exactly, Chris had already adjusted the thermostat twice before you'd even opened your eyes, but the way the house didn't feel like yours in a subtle, almost imperceptible way. Things were still where they always were, and yet not quite. The kitchen counter was clearer than usual. The medicine cabinet looked… reorganised. Even the living room had a faint sense of order that hadn't been there before, like someone had tried to impose structure onto comfort.
You stood barefoot in the doorway, watching Chris move around the kitchen with the kind of focus he usually reserved for situations involving firearms, hostiles, or imminent disaster. He was currently inspecting a box of cereal as if it had personally offended him. “This expires in March.“ He said flatly. “It's cereal.“ You blinked. “It still expires in March.“ He repeated. “Chris, it's January.“ You said, pointing at the calendar hanging on the wall. He didn't look up. “You're not eating it if it's close to expiring.“ You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Chris.“ He finally glanced at you. “What?“ You couldn't help laughing a little. “I'm pregnant, not made of glass.“ You said. The fact that Chris had told Leon so many times he was overreacting over anything about parenthood and now looked at a box of cereals like it was going to explode any moment was kind of hilarious. You sighed, walking into the kitchen. “You have to take extra care of yourself.“ Chris said. You opened your mouth, then closed it again, because arguing with Chris Redfield when he had decided something was physically pointless. He had faced bio-organic weapons with more flexibility than he approached the concept of you lifting a single grocery bag. Instead, you just watched as he picked up the grocery list, already rewritten in his handwriting, and added something else to it. You squinted, “What did you just write?“ He didn't look at you. “Nothing important.“ He said, tapping the pen against the counter. “That is never reassuring coming from you.“ He didn't answer, which meant it was absolutely something important.
By the time you left for the supermarket, Chris had already turned the outing into something that felt suspiciously like preparation for a controlled operation. You tried to ignore it at first. You really did. But it was hard when he kept scanning the environment like someone might jump out from behind the fruit aisle. “Honey, it's just a supermarket, not a war zone,” you muttered as you walked beside him. “It has slippery floors.“ He said immediately. You looked down at the supermarket tiles. “They're dry.“ You pointed out. “People spill things.“ He said as he grabbed a pack of fresh strawberries. “People also exist everywhere. Should I stop existing?“ He glanced at you briefly. “Don't be dramatic.“ You almost laughed.
The first real sign that this was going to be a long trip came when you reached the bags. You picked one up instinctively, already turning towards the car. Chris took it from your hand before you even processed the movement. “Hey-.“ “I've got it.“ He said. “It's one bag.“ You complained. “I've got it.“ You watched him pick up not just your bag, but all of them. Every single one. Like he was lifting equipment for deployment. You stared at him. “Chris, I can carry a grocery bag.“ He shook his head immediately. “It weighs, like, two pounds.“ You exhaled through your nose, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. “No.“ He said firmly as he started walking, carrying all the bags in his arms. “You look ridiculous.“ You followed him, incredulous. “I don't care.“ He said. “That's not the point.“ He paused briefly at the car, loading the bags into the trunk with precise efficiency. “Then what is the point?“ You opened your mouth and closed it again because you weren't entirely sure.
That evening, the house was warm in a way that felt almost too controlled. Chris had adjusted the heating twice more after dinner, and you were starting to suspect he had memorised the entire building's insulation pattern. You sat on the sofa, curled slightly under a blanket, watching him move around the living room with that same restless energy he's had all day. Not frantic, exactly. Chris never looked frantic. But contained, focused, like something inside him was constantly recalculating outcomes you couldn't see. “You're staring again.“ You said eventually. He stopped. “I'm not staring.“ He replied. “You were absolutely staring.“ A pause. Then he walked closer, slower now. Less movement, more presence. You tilted your head. “What?“ He didn't answer immediately. His eyes flicked down to you, then lower. To your stomach. It was still too early, barely anything visible yet. A change more felt than seen. A fact that existed more in words than in shape. His hand moved slightly, then stopped. “Can I…?“ He asked quietly. The question surprised you more than anything else that day. You nodded once. “Yeah.“ His hand settled carefully against your stomach. Carefully wasn't even the right word. It was like he was afraid of applying pressure to reality itself. Like too much contact might make something break. He went still. Completely still. You watched his face change in ways that were almost too subtle to name. His jaw tightened slightly. His breathing shifted, barely noticeable unless you were close enough to see it. “I can't feel anything yet.“ He said quietly. “It's too early, idiot.“ You laughed. He nodded once, but didn't move his hand. Not immediately.
A second passed, then another, like he was trying to memorise the idea of this moment rather than the sensation of it. Eventually, he pulled his hand back slowly, like it weighed more than it should have. “Still real enough.“ He said. It wasn't a question, it wasn't reassurance. It was something else entirely. You looked at him for a long moment, watching the way he didn't quite meet your eyes after that, as if the connection had shifted something he wasn't prepared to examine too closely yet. “I'm fine, you know.“ You said softly. He nodded again, watching your fingers intertwine with his. “I know.“ But he didn't sound like he believed in certainty.
Later, you noticed him again. Because Chris wasn't subtle when he was trying not to be obvious. He was in the kitchen, then the hallway, then checking something in the bathroom that didn't need checking. You watched him pass through rooms like he was patrolling boundaries that didn't exist. Eventually, you called his name. “Chris.“ He stopped immediately. “You're spiralling.“ You leaned against the doorway. “I'm not.“ He excused himself. “You checked the heating twice.“ You tried not to laugh. “It felt inconsistent?“ He explained as if it were common sense. “That's not even a thing.“ He didn't respond. Which was, unfortunately, also a response. “You're doing that thing where you think you can control everything.“ You said softly as you walked closer. “I can control most things.“ He said. “Not this.“ That landed differently. You saw it in the way he shifted slightly, just enough to give away that the words had gone somewhere deeper than the conversation. For a second, he looked like he might argue. Then he didn't. Instead, he just nodded once and moved past you into the kitchen like the conversation had been filled somewhere he didn't have immediate access to. But you knew him well enough to recognise that silence wasn't peace. It was containment.
It was sometime around three in the morning when you woke again. The room was dark except for a faint, cold glow coming from the side of the bed. You turned your head slowly. Chris was sitting upright, phone in hand. “…What the hell are you doing?“ You mumbled, voice rough with sleep. He looked up immediately, caught. “I'm…” he hesitated. “Research.“ You blinked, once, twice, incredulous. “At three fucking am?“ He hesitated again, and that alone said everything. “Chris.“ You pushed yourself up slightly, squinting at him. “Rebecca said headaches are normal,” he said quickly, still avoiding your gaze, “but I'm just double-checking.“ You stared at him. “You're reading medical papers at three in the morning because of a simple headache?“ You said. “It's not just that.“ He tried to defend himself. “Then what else is it?“ He didn't answer. You exhaled, rubbing your face slightly. “You can't just Google your way into preventing everything bad from happening.“ You said tiredly. “I'm not googling.“ He replied flatly. “That's not the point.“ He finally looked up at you properly then. And there it was again, that controlled intensity, the kind that didn't come from panic exactly, but from something tighter, sharper. “I just need to be sure.“ He said quietly. “Sure of what?“ A pause. “That I'm not missing something.“ The room felt smaller after that. You studied him for a moment. The phone light made his face look harsher than usual, but his eyes weren't. Not really. They looked tired in a way you hadn't seen often enough to recognise immediately. “You're not missing anything.“ You said gently. He didn't respond. So you added, softer, “you're just trying to outrun uncertainty.“ That made him still. Not defensive, just still.
The next few days were even quieter. Not because Chris had magically stopped worrying overnight, if anything, you were fairly certain he had simply gotten better at hiding it. After catching him researching pregnancy symptoms at three in the morning, he'd spent most of the days pretending everything was perfectly normal, which, in Chris' language, actually meant he was absolutely not normal. You were sitting on the couch after dinner, a blanket thrown over your legs while some random show played in the background. Neither of you was really watching it. Chris' hand was resting on your stomach again. You were beginning to notice it had already become a habit, not a conscious one, though. Sometimes he'd be sitting beside you, and suddenly his hand would be there, like he needed the physical reminder that this was real. Suddenly, you tilted your head against the couch. “Have you thought about names yet?“ Chris' thumb stilled just for a second. “Already?“ You shrugged. “I'm not saying we have to decide now.“ You said softly. “But you've thought about it.“ He let out a quiet sigh. You smiled immediately. “I knew it.“ That earned a small huff of amusement. You knew him too well. His hand remained where it was, warm through your shirt.
For a few moments, he seemed genuinely thoughtful. Then his gaze dropped, and something in his expression changed. It wasn't dramatic, most people probably wouldn't have noticed. You did. Because you'd seen that look before, a thousand times before. The smile slipped from your face. Chris didn't say anything, he didn't have to. Your chest tightened slightly. “Piers.“ The name hung quietly between you. Chris stared at your stomach for several seconds, then barely nodded. “Yeah…” His voice came out rougher than expected. Neither of you spoke after that. You didn't push, you knew better. Knew how carefully he handled memories like that. Like touching broken glass. “I think about him sometimes…” You admitted softly. That finally made him look at you. “I know… I've seen you staring at the photograph in my office whenever you cleaned.“ He said quietly. “I wish he were here.“ The words hurt more than you'd expected. Because it wasn't just about missing him, it was about all the things he would never see. The things he'd never get to be part of. Chris swallowed, his jaw tightened. “He would've been unbearable.“ You smiled softly. “He wouldn't have stopped until I retired.“ Chris said, a small smile tugging at his lips with the thought, a real smile, the kind that always felt a little bittersweet when it came to Piers.
For a moment, it almost felt like he was there, like the memory of him had settled beside you on the couch. Then the silence returned. Gentler this time. Chris looked down at your stomach again, his hand shifted slightly, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet. “I thought about it.“ You waited. He took a slow breath. “Using his name.“ There it was. No hesitation, no pretending, just pure truth. Your eyes immediately filled with warmth, because admitting that couldn't have been easy, especially for him. “You don't have to-.“ “I know.“ He cut you off before you could finish your sentence. “What if we have a girl?“ That got a laugh out of him. A genuine one. “Then I imagine she'd be pretty annoyed.“ You laughed too. The tension eased right away, but Chris' smile faded after a moment. “He deserved to be here.“ The confession was so quiet you almost missed it. Your heart broke. Because that was it, that was the real wound underneath everything else. Not the name, not even the grief, the fact that Piers had been robbed of a future, of moments like this, just so that Chris could live. You reached over and covered Chris' hand with your own. “He'd be so happy for you.“ Chris closed his eyes briefly as if hearing that hurt, as if hearing that helped, maybe both. When he opened them again, they were fixed on your stomach, on the future, on everything waiting for him. And after a long moment, he squeezed your hand. “Maybe.“ You leaned into his side. “He would.“ This time, Chris didn't argue, and for him, that was as good as agreement.
You stayed there for a while after that. Curled against Chris' side, his hand still resting over your stomach while the television continued playing unnoticed in the background. Neither of you brought up names again, there would be time for that later, months of it. For now, the future felt close enough to touch and impossibly far away at the same time. Eventually, the conversation drifted elsewhere. The evening moved on, life moved on, January moved on. And unfortunately for you, Chris' paranoia moved on with it. Just little things, constant ones. The sort of things that built up over days until you found yourself staring at your husband in complete disbelief. “Did you take your vitamins?“ You looked up from the book in your lap. Chris was standing in the kitchen doorway. “Yes.“ You replied. He looked at you for a few quiet seconds. “…Today?“ You lowered the book slowly into your lap. “Chris, you watched me take them.“ You answered. “I know.“ He said, crossing his arms. “You literally handed them to me.“ You bit the side of your cheek to prevent yourself from smiling. His expression remained completely serious. “Just checking.“ You groaned.
It kept happening. Every day seemed to introduce a new concern. One morning, he became convinced the driveway was too slippery, another day, he spent ten minutes reading the ingredients list on a box of crackers. You once caught him researching whether stress levels could affect pregnancy outcomes. The irony of that particular search nearly killed you. Then there was the chair incident. A completely ordinary chair. You had stepped onto it to reach something from the top shelf while Chris was taking a shower. By the time your hand touched the cabinet handle, Chris had somehow appeared behind you. “Absolutely not.“ You nearly jumped. “What the hell-.“ “Get down.“ He said immediately. “It's a chair.“ You complained. “Get down.“ He repeated, already sounding like a dad scolding his daughter. “Chris.“ You tried to negotiate. “The answer is still get down.“ You stared at him. He stared back. Neither of you moved. Eventually, you climbed down purely because you were too busy laughing to continue the argument. Chris did not appreciate that.
The thing was, none of it came from a bad place. That was what made it impossible to stay annoyed for long. You knew why he was doing it. You knew what was hiding underneath all of it. The late-night research, the constant checking, the inability to relax, the fear. Still, that didn't mean you weren't going to make fun of him. Especially because you'd witnessed something very similar before. One evening near the end of January, you were sitting together in the living room when the realization finally hit you. You looked up from your phone, then at Chris, then back at your phone with a conversation with Leon's wife, then at Chris again. Your eyes narrowed. “Oh my God.“ Chris immediately looked suspicious. “What?“ A grin spread across your face. “I don't like that grin.“ Chris said. “You don't even realize you're doing it, do you?“ His suspicion deepened. “Doing what?“ You sat up straighter. “Leon.“ Chris froze, his reaction said it all. Your grin widened. “No.“ He warned. “Oh, yes.“ You said, already laughing. “No.“ He warned again. “You've become Leon.“ A look of pure offense crossed his face. “I have not.“ He said immediately. “You absolutely have.“ You laughed, actually laughed. Because this was too good.
For months, ever since Sammy had been born, Chris had been relentless, absolutely relentless. Every time Leon worried about something, Chris had something to say about it. Every single time. “Leon, relax.“ “Leon, she's fine.“ “Leon, she's not made of glass.“ “Leon, stop hovering.“ You had heard all of them repeatedly. And now? Now, Chris was interrogating you about vitamins he had physically watched you take ten minutes earlier. You pointed at him. “Do you remember telling Leon he was being dramatic because he bought three different baby thermometers?“ Chris looked away. Already a terrible sign. “That's different.“ You immediately burst out laughing. “How?“ You asked between laughs. “It just is.“ He said, clearly annoyed. “Chris.“ He folded his arms, the universal sign that he knew he was losing. “You weren't pregnant.“ You blinked, then laughed even harder. “Oh, that's your defense, Mr. Redfield?“ You kept laughing. “It makes sense.“ He vaguely defended. “It really doesn't.“ You argued. “It does to me.“ You were still laughing when Chris muttered something under his breath. “What was that?“ You asked curiously. “Nothing.“ You looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He sighed heavily. “Don't tell Leon.“ He mumbled without looking at you. For a second, there was silence, as if you were considering. Then you laughed so hard your eyes watered. Because that was it, that was the real issue, not being compared to Leon, not being caught. The fact that if Leon ever found out, Chris would never hear the end of it. And judging by the horrified look on his face, he knew it too.
For the first time all evening, a reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. You leaned against his shoulder, still laughing quietly. His arm settled around you automatically, protective, warm, familiar. Overprotective to an almost ridiculous degree. But familiar. And as January slowly came to an end, you couldn't help thinking that maybe Chris wasn't trying to control everything. Maybe he was just learning, one anxious day at a time, how much he already loved, somehow he hadn't even met yet.
