emmie. @rohansdisciple - Tumblr Blog

Jan 18

𓊆ྀི󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠 ୨୧ ˖ ࣪ . . . 11k. resident evil au w some relation to the game. black fem!reader ◞ lowercase intended ◞ re4!leon + krauser mod ◞ violence / combat ◞ readers a lil stubborn◞ rough sex ◞ unprotected ◞ leon’s stern + protective ◞ titty sucking ◞ oral ꒰ f + m ꒱ ◞ throat fucking ◞ manhandling ◞ pet name usage ꒰ princess , good girl , baby ꒱ ◞ spitting ◞ neck grabs + spanking ◞ dirty talkkkk ◞ leon’s pov ig ◞ praise ◞ leon whimpers cs i say so ◞ multiple orgasms ◞ squirting ◞ minors aren’t welcomed! reblogs & comments are appreciated <3 𓊇ྀི

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ꒱ . . . this is the longest fic i’ve written in a longgg time lolz. i was fighting for my life tryna finish it. adding this as one of my first submissions for kinktober ! here’s some visuals for theme <3

january eleventh, two thousand-five.

the world is dying before his eyes. everyday seems hopeless. ever since he’s taken the duty of becoming an officer, he’s never known rest. battling the dead in the overthrown town of raccoon city, the bioweapons created by umbrella brought destruction to the world he knew now. the president of the united states has now issued a contingency plan to sterilize raccoon city to guarantee the prevention of spreading the current t-virus running rampant.

the streets are deserted, their once-thriving energy now replaced by a ghostly silence. the few buildings still standing seem like monuments to decay—the shattered windows, broken walls, and scattered debris speak of the horrors that have unfolded here. leon keeps a watchful eye on his surroundings, always on high alert. a colt m1911 drawn and ready to fire at any moment. the silence is eerie, the only sound being his footsteps in heavy dark boots echoing softly on the cracked pavement of the road.

he moves with precision, purpose in every step. his mission: retrieve the president’s daughter before the u.s government executes operation sterilization—obliterating raccoon city and everything in it. to know that this town had less than seven hours before it disintegrated felt unreal. it’s been hours since he’s set out after leaving the white house in search of baby eagle. sadly, no luck. after sifting through muddy waters and rainy skies along with the packs of undead lurching out from villages to land attacks . . nothing.

“hunnigan. do you copy?”

the static is strong as his informant breeches through, a sigh of relief passing through him after he’d tried his best to clean out his radio after being knocked to the ground into a puddle of blood and god knows what else by an infected. he’d hoped his immune system was out of this world.

“leon! thank god,” she’s fading in and out, the worry in her tone prominent. “i couldn’t reach you for hours. is everything alright?”

“i’m fine. got caught up in a shit pile. no sight of baby eagle yet. what’s the president’s move?”

“he’s not right, leon. i . . can’t explain it. it’s almost as if he’s losing himself. i can’t convince him to stop this. you have to find her.”

“no kidding,” leon scoffs. “bastard couldn’t even wait for me to find his daughter before —”

then . . . a scream.

low, guttural, human. coming from an alley off to the side. the muscles in his body tense up, even after years of training, suffering, and loss. something as simple as a scream brought him back to his rookie days. through turmoil and frustration, he follows the sound into the narrow confines of the dark alley, the noise getting closer.

“talk later. see if you can find more intel on the military’s coordinates. i’d like to be as far away from destruction as possible.”

“got it. be careful.”

beep, a disconnect.

between a vine covered, shattered glass toyota pickup truck laid a woman struggling to pull herself from an area where she was lodged between the vehicle and a fallen billboard. he finds her—bloodied, limping, one arm pressed against the wall for support. a fresh wound on her leg, could maybe be from one of the infected. she's facing away from him, her back rising and falling rapidly with every breath taken in agony. she lets out another shrill cry after managing to pull herself free, collapsing to one knee, the leg of her pants torn, blood soaking through the fabric.

that's all it takes to snap him into action. leon holsters his gun and strides forward, closing the distance in long, determined strides.

"hey—" he says, voice firm but not unkind. "you're hurt.”

he crouches in front of you, blocking your view of the alley's opening, shielding you with his body just in case another infected shows up.

"can you walk?" he asks.

“don’t touch me!”

the shout takes him aback, a hint of sternness embedded in the tone. leon blinks, hand still outstretched, not taking it too much into offense. the harshness of your voice could simply be a natural reaction of fear. you’re glaring at him—eyes hard. despite your injury, your chin tilted stubbornly. she's not one to be intimidated easily, it seems.

he lowers his arm, studying you with curiosity. "i'm not going to hurt you," he reassures, voice even. "you're injured. you need help."

“i don’t need your help, i can take care of myself.”

it’s snippy, your response. again, he brushes it off, already making it up in his mind that he wasn’t leaving you behind. not by a long shot.

"clearly." he deadpans, gesturing to your leg.

your glare intensifies, but you can't deny the truth in his words. your legs are trembling slightly beneath you, the pain of your wound no doubt making it difficult for you to stand upright.

“what happened to you, were you bit?” leon questioned.

without hesitation, he’s pulling out a switchblade from his pocket to cut open the area where the wound is visible so he could observe. it’s a deep gash. punctured to a point where he could see layers of inner flesh. your face twists in agony, trying to bat his hand away, but he doesn’t relent.

“gotcha real bad,” he continues to search. there’s no telltale black veins spreading. not a bite. good.

you kiss your teeth. “bastard tried to get me ‘n i got caught falling through the gate. got stabbed by something . . i dunno.”

“it's not infected,” he concludes, releasing your pants, letting the barely-there fabric fall back over the wound. his eyes meet yours again—sharp, assessing. “you’re lucky. if that thing got you with even a claw, you’d be a brain-rotted host.”

unable to say anything, you only stare at him with a mix of defiance and wariness. the pain in your expression is clear, jaw clenched and trying to hold back a wince with every movement.

“yeah, well. this one couldn’t get me.”

that much he could figure. the glint in your eyes betrays a history of hard experiences. you’re likely used to fending for yourself, relying on no one. or perhaps endured betrayal. it's a dangerous way to live, especially in these times, but leon knows trying to convince you of that will be a pointless endeavor.

“look, you can’t be out here. it’s nearing dark,” he rises to his full height, scanning the alley entrance one more time before turning back to you. “i’ve got a safehouse two blocks east. it’s walled, stocked. no infected inside—yet. been a few days since i’ve been.”

leon waits for a rejection, scanning you from head to toe. he wouldn’t be surprised if you stood up and walked away, your pride a bit strong.

“no thanks, like i told you, i can take care of myself. i was just out food hunting.”

"food hunting?" he repeats, skepticism evident. "you're injured. you can't even walk without limping, and you think you're g’na find food?"

the scoff that you make in response is both sarcastic and infuriating. he's trying to help you, and you’re acting like a petulant child refusing to accept assistance.

“well when i started my day i sure didn’t think i’d be ending it with a gash and a limp, so.”

“well you have it now, how’s that working out for you?” leon crossed his arms, towering over you.

“a little cut isn’t g’na hold me back. i’ve been on runs for months now. alone. i’m positive i’ll be okay. don’t worry about it.”

he crouches again, eye level. not touching, not pushing—but close enough so that you can see the seriousness in his gaze.

"look . . i'm not asking you to trust me. but, i am telling you—this city burns within the next six hours. you want to be alive tomorrow? then come with me."

that makes your eyes widen, brows lowering in confusion. “burn? what are you talking about? it’s already gone to shit given we got the living walking dead eating goddamn human flesh.”

he sighs. “the government. they’re going to sterilize raccoon city. total nuke bomb. it’s a last minute strategy. a shit one at that.”

“what the fuck?” it comes out breathless, your gaze falling to the ground. “h-how? how last minute? how’d you even find that out?”

leon’s voice was low, but his words were sharp. there was no time to sugarcoat. he’s got weight on his shoulders enough.

“names leon s kennedy. i’m a federal agent for the d.s.o — originally worked for the police department of this city,” he introduced himself in proper, trained manner. the realization slowly settling in your eyes that he was actually serious. “i was sent out here on a mission to locate the president’s daughter beforehand — no luck so far. i’m only telling you because i can’t bare to see anyone else die.”

the admission slips out before he can stop it. low, raw—unlike anything he’s let himself say in years. he looks away, jaw tightening. that softness? it’s a weakness. one he can't afford.

“look, i know i can’t save everyone, but i need to try. so come with me . . or don’t. but if you're still here when the bombs hit? that’s on you."

you hold his gaze, stubborn as ever. he can see the reluctance in your expression, the internal struggle of pride versus safety. you’d be assed out trying to haul yourself back to your hideout. there was no point rejecting.

to his surprise, you huff, and accept. "fine. but don't expect me to thank you."

"i wasn't, princess." he replies dryly, rising to his full height and offering his hand to help you stand.

eyeing it, you allow him to hoist you up, leon keeping a steady hand by your waist to prevent you from toppling over. his eyes follow your form as you hold on to him, taking in the snug fit of your black leather pants. they’re tight, damn near leaving little to the imagination, highlighting the curves of your hips and thighs. gaze drifting to the flash of white at your chest—a halter top with lace trimmings, the upper buttons undone, teasing hints of the skin beneath with a matching leather jacket to cover extra skin. there's a tattoo peeking from under the fabric of your pants, just below your hip in cursive that he can’t make out.

leon averts his eyes, focusing on keeping his hand steady at your waist, supporting you.

“you good to walk?”

“yeah,” you mutter, testing your weight on the uninjured limb. “i can walk.”

though he isn’t convinced, he lets you be, shifting closer to your side so he can reach across your back and drape your arm over his shoulder.

“lean on me,” he leaves no room for argument. “not taking no for an answer.”

reluctantly, you lean on him. his body is warm like a furnace, full of muscle, much bigger than you as he held you in his grasp protectively.

“what’s your name?”

“꒰♥︎꒱.”

swallowing, you focus on your surroundings, really not looking forward to dealing with another infected. neither does he. moving forward to make your way out of the alleyway, leon stays alert. gun drawn again, eyes scanning every shadow for movement with precise calibration. he knows this city better than most. and he knows what’s waiting in the dark.

but now . . it’s not just about completing his mission anymore. it's about keeping you alive.

leon’s gaze flickers down to your thigh where he notices a holster he hadn’t seen. black strap hugging the curve of your leg, a compact handgun snug in it. he should’ve expected nothing less from someone who’s survived this long by themselves, or so he thinks. he didn’t know your story. he adjusts his grip around you, keeping you steady as you both move step by painful step. the city groans around you, distant screeches and guttural cracks of creature-like tones echo from ruined buildings and lots.

“you any good with that?” leon nods toward your gun without losing sight of his path.

“better than you think.”

a grin tugs at his lips despite the clear indication of sass in your voice. “we’ll see about that.”

he glances sidelong at you, appraising. despite your clear pain and stubbornness, there's something in your expression that intrigues him. determination? strength? he can't quite place it.

your face is set in a grimace, each step causing a sharp intake of breath as the wound continues to bleed. but you’re not complaining. not begging for mercy or asking for a break. you’re just pushing through, eyes fixed straight ahead with a guard up.

"we're almost there," leon utters, voice gruff but carrying a subtle edge of reassurance. "it’s just around the corner. that way we can get you patched up before you start gettin’ dizzy.”

he knows you’re exhausted when you have nothing to say, not even a nod or a huff. it’s etched into your features; tiredness. as you round the corner together, he can see the safehouse in the distance—a looming silhouette against the backdrop of a ruined city. he hurries the pace, urgency seeping back into his steps.

“almost there," he repeats, more for himself. "just a little farther. .”

you stumble, nearly falling after tripping over your own two feet. it’s clear the loss of blood was beginning to weaken you. he tightens his grip, pulling you closer. “i got you, hold on. . atta girl.”

finally leading up a steep hill, leon’s going cold from the sight he’s revealed. the safehouse gate hangs crooked, splintered wood and twisted metal betraying the violence that took place. he tenses instantly, every muscle in his body going rigid as he pulls you back behind him with a low growl of agitation.

"stay close," he orders, voice tight. his gun is up and ready, scanning the open courtyard.

inside, the wooden barricades once sturdy are shattered signs of struggle. blood streaks the ground in dark trails leading toward the entrance. the door to the main entrance is kicked in . . half-hanging off its hinges.

“no fucking way.”

he exhales sharply through his nose—damn it. all that prep work gone to waste. then, movement. a guttural moan echoes from within.

infected bodies stagger inside like shadows—three of them, maybe more lurking deeper in darkness, but they haven’t spotted them yet.

“shit, just my luck,” leon groans.

his eyes dart down to your leg, one glance at that bleeding wound tells him you can't outrun this fight if it goes sideways.

"you still think you can take care of yourself?" he challenges softly, not mocking now . . testing what's left between defiance and survival instinct.

you’re worn out, definitely only running on adrenaline right now. but there’s no way you’d risk getting yourself killed after surviving this far.

“i can handle myself.”

nodding once, leon’s pulling you behind a stone pillar as a shield. “prove it then,” he whispers, wanting to keep his voice low, reaching for your holster to unclip and hand you the weapon. “keep your shots clean. headshots only. it’s a quicker kill.”

“i know the drill. i got it.”

he takes position beside you, back against the wall, gun raised and ready to aim. “on three?”

verbally, you’re silent. nodding in agreement. maintaining your focus.

"one . . " he breathes, finger on the trigger.

"two . .”

and then, a loud crash from inside as one of the infected knocks over debris.

" . . three."

he's already moving before the word can fully leave his lips. his long strides bring him out into the open, gun raised. he takes the first infected head-on, a precise shot cracking through the air.

the creature collapses, falling to the ground in a heap. now or never. he ducks low as the second infected charges toward him, dodging the grasping claws and snapping teeth of its deformed face.

the zombie swings an arm, nearly clipping him. he ducks in time, throwing the side of his body into the creature and driving it back. it snarls and flails, enraged by the failed attack.

“nice try, grandpa,” leon snips.

the zombie roars, stumbling back a step. leon takes full advantage of its unsteadiness, firing off two quick shots—one to its kneecap, the other to its head. it drops on the spot, collapsing to the ground with a dull thud. three down. hopefully the last of them. he straightens his stance, listening closely for more movement. silence.

then . . the soft shuffling of footsteps coming from the main shelter. something's in there, and it's bigger than the others from the heaviness of its footsteps.

leon turns toward you, his eyes narrowing. "stay here," he commands, voice firm and unwavering. "i’ll handle whatever’s in there."

you go to open your mouth to protest—to argue, to insist that you can handle yourself. but the look on his face stops you. you could still recognize the difference between bravery and stupidity. this is his area of expertise.

you nod once. "be careful."

"always am." he responds dryly, the corner of his mouth curving into the hint of a smirk.

he moves quietly toward the entrance to the shelter, gun raised and eyes scanning the darkness within. the inside of the shelter is in disarray. furniture overturned, bedding clawed apart, everything broken and scattered. whatever came through here left a path of absolute destruction.

a low, menacing growl from the far end of the main room resounds suddenly. leon tenses, his grip on the pistol tightening. he advances slowly, cautiously, every movement calculated. the growl comes again, deeper . . louder. whatever’s making that noise isn't small in the slightest. he moves deeper into the room, the source of the growl becomes clearer. a hulking shape takes form in the shadows—tall, broad, deformed. even bigger than the zombies outside.

leon's heart pumps in his ears, adrenaline coursing through his veins. this isn't good. the creature lets out a sharp, piercing screech, launching itself forward with unnatural speed.

“awe shit!” leon doesn't hesitate. he dives to the side, rolling across the floor as claws swipe barely past his head.

the creature slams into the overturned couch where he was standing, enraged by the miss. it whirls, its milky eyes fixed on leon with feral intensity. leon scrambles to his feet, bringing his gun up as the creature lunges again. he squeezes off three shots in rapid succession, aiming for its head. the creature roars while charging again, swiping with one massive hand. leon manages to dive out of the way in time, barely avoiding the impact.

he tries another shot, aiming for the creature's face this time. still no effect.

"damn it,” he grunts, dodging another swing. "bulletproof freak!”

he's at a disadvantage, and it's starting to show. the zombie is larger, stronger, and seemingly immune to his attacks. leon has to stay mobile, keep dodging and weaving, hoping for an opening to find a weak spot. the creature comes at him again, swiping wildly. this time, leon's not fast enough. a blow connects with his side, the force of it sending him flying across the room.

he hits the ground hard, air rushing from his lungs as pain explodes across his ribcage. he groans, trying to push through the agony to get back on his feet. the action causes worry to ensue, gasping as an unknown emotion weighs on your heart at the sight of him injured.

“leon!” you shout from the doorway, voice cracking with genuine fear.

he hears the soft patter of your footsteps approaching.

“don't come in!” he yells through gritted teeth, still trying to get up.

and of course, you refused to listen. instead, you limp toward him, face set in determination despite the pain radiating from every movement. the creature turns its attention to you, sensing the new threat. it takes a step forward.

"no!" leon shouts, struggling to his feet. he can't let you face this thing alone. not when you’re already hurt. not when you could die trying to save him.

before he could act, a loud crack echoed through the room, leon’s pupils bursting at the sight of the infected jerking violently from the damage, roaring out a screech to which the both of you cover your ears to block out the intensity, before its collapsing forward. silence falls over the shelter, broken only by ragged breathing.

leon turns slowly, heart pounding. standing in the doorway, newly obtained shotgun smoking, it’s you. you lower your weapon, face strained and sweaty from pain and effort. he stares at you, a mixture of relief and concern coursing through him. you’d completely disregarded his orders—put yourself in danger to save him.

"i told you to stay outside," he says, trying to keep his voice firm even as his ribs threaten to buckle with every breath.

“what else was i supposed to do? let you die?” you scrunch your face up with annoyance. “don’t be an idiot.”

leon’s now half-glaring, half-in . . awe? his ribs ache, body screaming from the impact, but all he can focus on is you. standing there, wounded and defiant, gun still in hand like some vengeful angel of survival.

he’s feeling weird . . he doesn’t like it.

"could've gotten yourself killed," he growls, limping closer. each step sharp with pain, but he refuses to show it. "stubborn as hell."

you don’t back down, just lifting your chin like you’re daring him to argue. and damn it . . you’re right. he’d be dead if not for that shot.

a beat passes, and it’s heavy with unspoken things. leon exhales sharply through his nose and mutters: "guess we're even now."

your lips twitch, almost smiling. almost.

before either can say more—a distant rumble rolls across the city skyline. deep, mechanical, indestructible. his blood runs cold. dammit, how much time has passed? he’s unsure. he turns toward a nearby broken window just in time to see five or so military helicopters soar over raccoon city’s edge —the first sign that operation sterilization has begun earlier than expected. he’s running out of time.

“shit, we need to find hiding.”

"underground," he snaps, already moving toward you. "there’s a subway tunnel half a block west — sealed maintenance entrance. if we can get inside before the blast wave hits. .”

“no, i checked that route long go. its blocked off by rubble. i have a place.” your jaw is set, reaching for him to offer support even while limping yourself.

the city around feels heavier now, the air thick with impending doom. another distant rumble echoes closer this time. his eyes narrow, sizing you up. there's a certainty in your words that he can't ignore.

". . . where?"

"there’s an old farmhouse up north," you say, wincing as you take another step together. "still standing. basement's reinforced — i’ve been residing there.”

leon hesitates. he doesn't like deviating from his plans. especially not with the clock ticking. you meet his gaze, steady and unflinching.

"it's either that," you mutter, “or you can stand here and argue while we both get incinerated.”

there was no time to argue.

"lead the way," he says finally.

huffing and shifting your weight against him, you mumble , "about damn time you listened."

and with that—limping, bleeding, battered but alive—the two of you move north together.

𐔌՞. .՞𐦯

staggering through ruined streets, moving as fast as injuries allow, each step feels like a test of endurance. every breath a mix of pain and determination.

"how far?" he manages after what seems like an eternity. the city feels eerily still. like it knows what's coming.

"a few blocks more," you reply, face pinched with concentration as you cut through an alleyway. "just around this corner . .”

the trees loom overhead, their gnarled branches twisting like skeletal fingers against the ashen sky. the air grows colder as you leave the city behind, footsteps crunching over dead leaves and broken twigs. an unnatural silence blankets the forest—no birds, no wind. . . just the weight of what’s coming.

"this place gives me bad vibes," leon mutters, arm still draped around you for support. his eyes dart from shadow to shadow—trained to spot danger before it strikes.

"yeah, well," you huff beside him, limping forward with gritted teeth. "it's not exactly the virgin islands.”

traveling further through the dark canopy of this goddamn forest, the farmhouse appears at last. weathered ivory panels showing its age, big, timely — could be old built. eerily homey. it’s surrounded by vines and moss dancing around its body, areas of it cracked, looking like it’d crumble from a singular renovation.

“home sweet sanctuary!”

pushing on together, both of you reach the farmhouse's front porch. the wood creaks under combined weight—old and weathered, but still solid enough to withstand the years. . . at least for now. leon leans heavily on the rail, taking a moment to catch his breath as you fish out a set of keys from your pocket.

it’s definitely an old house, walls rusted with paint peeling and floors creaking with every step. crooked portraits hang up the path leading up the staircase — faded faces watching like silent sentinels of a forgotten past. dim interior cloaked in dust and shadow. floorboards groan underfoot as you step inside, the air thick with isolation. leon scans the living room—blankets draped over a few broken windows, couch neat and rugs swept clean. a couple of candles laid around. he could tell you tried to make it work.

it’s safe.

“it’s right here through the kitchen.”

you find yourself watching him unintentionally, the quietness that suddenly falls between you both giving your mind some time to process that this random man would now be your survival partner. a hot one, at that. you’ll admit it.

“right,” he’s nodding, muscles shifting as he steadied himself against a dining chair.

toward a far area behind the pantry lies a secret door, yanking open a hatch built into it reveals a steep staircase leading down into darkness.

"basement's down there,” you motion with a hand. “stocked with food, water, even some medicine."

he raises an eyebrow. “you really thought of everything.”

"no," you correct. "i just didn’t want to die."

he nods in understanding but says nothing. can't argue with that logic. leon manages to help you down the rickety steps, supporting your weight while descending into the cellar. the air is stale, heavy. . but safer than outside. he glances around once reaching the bottom, taking in the space. bare-bones, just like she said. a small cot pushed against one wall, cans of food and bottles of water stacked neatly underneath.

"you've been living down here?"

"every night for the past three months," you reply, leaning against the wall. your face appears drained, drawn from exhaustion and blood loss.

"and no one found you?"

"guess i'm harder to kill than they thought."

“they?” he raises a brow in question.

“not important.”

“hm,” he hums, the level of concern lifting once more. “let’s patch you up before you pass out from blood loss.”

he doesn’t even ask for instructions before he begins sifting through cabinets to find a first aid kit, releasing a thankful sigh when he does.

“you don’t have to —”

“yeah? then who will?”

“i need to shower first. can’t have grime in wounds.”

"you're in no condition to stand in the shower," he says bluntly. "let me treat your leg first."

“the patch is just g’na get wet, that’s a waste of supplies. i’ll be quick.”

the bone in leon’s jaw moves. “shower then,” he practically shoos you off, caressing his temple with frustration.

you can’t help but laugh, shaking your head and limping toward a curtained-off area in the corner. "bossy bastard."

once you’ve disappeared, leon could finally release a breath, running a hand though his hair and resting his hands on his hips. dealing with you is like dealing with a damn cat — stubborn, independent, and impossible to predict. he glances around the cellar again as the sound of running water from the makeshift shower fills the quiet.

the place is functional, but it's lacking . . anything personal. just the bare essentials for survival. and yet you’ve been living down here for months. alone. a small, fragile thing like you fighting to live each day. he knew nothing about you, of course, but he worried for you. maybe it truly was the cop buried in his soul.

the waters running for a while, washing yourself free of every speck of dirt, blood, and musk. flinching from any contact to your wound. you chose to take a cold shower to keep yourself from fainting due to the steam, and your lack of nutrients. brushing your teeth and getting all cleaned up before stepping out. to your stupidness, you’d forgotten to grab an outfit. of course, pajamas were out of the picture, as much as you wanted to rest. now knowing a nuclear force will disintegrate your hometown at any given minute left you anxious.

groaning to yourself, you’d wrap a towel tight around yourself before emerging from behind the curtain. you didn’t think too hard on it, not like he’d really care if being honest. the worlds dying, and you might die. the last thing on your mind was to freak out about a man seeing you naked. for leon’s breath to hitch at the sight, said otherwise. even bruised, tired, and wrapped in a simple towel, you look . . pretty. water droplets sticking to areas of your collarbone and neckline, to the dark curls in your hair draping over your shoulders, tendrils sticking to the sides of your face.

“sorry, didn’t grab any clothes.”

leon clears his throat, eyes dashing away quickly, hoping he didn't stare too long.

"feel better?" he asks, voice slightly gruff.

you nod, securing the fabric tighter around yourself, inner unfazed nerves now taunting you.

“want me to grab you something?”

“yes, please. there should be an outfit inside that chaise over there.”

leon nods once, turning his back to you to find the clothing you mentioned. after grabbing it, he turns back and catches sight of your wound.

“give me your leg. i don’t want it going any longer unmedicated.”

huffing, you decide to listen to him just this once, moving to sit on the edge of the cot, wincing slightly as you lift your leg onto a crate nearby. beads of water drips from your body onto the floor, glistening under the dim light. he kneels in front of you once more, first aid kit on standby and hands steady as he dries and disinfects the wound.

"hmm," he makes a noise, blotting at the wound carefully with a sterile gauze pad. "infection hasn't set in. lucky girl.”

you damn near blushed at the way he said that, almost sounding like a pet name, a slight purr in his tone when enunciated.

“ow!” you go to wince, a pout dropping on your lips when he applies an antiseptic solution. “owie! that hurts.”

"relax, stay still,” leon’s voice is stern, looking up at you briefly and grabbing your leg to hold you down.

“hey, i’m injured! be gentle with me.”

“so am i,” he counters, pausing to lift the side of his shirt and showing the deep purple dressed on his ribcage, bruised up from the hit he took. the olive tone of his skin along with the strong path of abs you now craved to fully see making your brain whirl. “don’t see me whining.”

as he drops his shirt, you blow a raspberry to not only get yourself together, but to try to learn patience and gratitude. maybe even a little sincerity. it’s not that you didn’t have it, but due to the nature of your current environment, it was hard to keep that up.

“are . . are you okay?”

leon chuckles out a breath. “yeah, definitely. i’ve got scars for days.”

you try not to react to his rough touch on your skin. it’s been a long time since a man’s touched you, face flushing up from the strong feel of calloused hands grazing your skin. despite your tough exterior, you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be, leon spotting the dilation in your eyes as you watch his hands almost . . needily.

“don’t get used to this," he says quietly, securing the last of the wrap around the gash. "patching you up, taking care of you. . don’t get cute.”

“oh, please. you want me cute. bet it makes you cocky knowing you’ve gotta damsel to protect.”

“so now you’re willing to submit to me?”

his touch lingers a second longer than necessary on your leg, both hands wrapped around you with a medium grip, fingers brushing lightly against warm skin. the two of you eerily go silent at the same time, as if waiting for something. then, broke the ice.

" . . you okay?" he asks, voice low—gruffer than before.

"fine," you mutter quickly, pulling your leg back and looking away. but the way your breath goes inordinate gives you away.

he doesn't push. just rises to his feet, towering over you once more. the air between you feels heavier now, charged with something unspoken.

"you should get dressed," he says finally. "before you catch a cold.”

“uh, yeah. i’ll do that.”

you turn away, reaching for the folded set of clothes and walking away to change.

leon swallows, mindlessly wandering around the room before he’s leaning against the wall and closes his eyes for a second to think. the city’s going up in flames in hours, he hasn’t found the president’s daughter, and now there’s a possibility he’ll make it through the night — with you. yet, that’s all he can think about, is you.

“so, how come one of the president’s d.s.o agency soldiers, or whatever, was sent out to save his daughter by himself?”

he opens his eyes again, finding you standing there in low rise cargo shorts and a black, laced camisole. it all fits like a second skin, outlining every curve, every muscle. pushing up the soft pillows of your chest, necklace resting just between the supple texture.

he has to look away again.

“in fact, that’s pretty reckless for someone of his status. also, it doesn’t make sense when he has full use of artillery.”

clearing his throat, he focuses on the question. "i was sent to find her under the president’s command since i’m fully qualified. the rest is confidential.”

“i need more than that,” you deadpan.

“if the president were to announce to the entire world that his daughter’s been kidnapped, sending out military force in the process, how do you think citizens would react?”

“hmm, got a point,” tapping your finger on your lips, you study him closely, a curious gleam in your eyes. “well, since the rest is confidential — how about you? why’d you join the agency. you said you were a rookie cop when all of this went down. were you recruited on honor?”

“that’s invasive,” the answer is blunt, and your eye twitches. he notices.

"what?" he asks, harsher than intended. "you expect a sob story?"

“i feel like there’s more than you’re letting on. it’s not like i’ll have anyone to tell.”

leon ponders for a long moment, jaw tight. the dim light casts shadows across his face — hard lines, harder past.

" . . you really w’na know . . about me?” he asks, voice not quite soft, but not as guarded as before.

you nod once, waving your hand as a signal for him to hurry. “tell it all, kennedy.”

he’s exhaling slowly, shifting comfortably against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. he doesn’t know why he feels he can be vulnerable with you. it’s strange.

"i was coerced into joining the government’s agency,” he admits, blinking slow.

“and how does one become coerced into that? sounds hard to believe since you’re so bossy.”

his eyes flick up to yours, almost amused despite the tension. “pointing fingers, huh?”

you roll your eyes. "just answer my damn question."

he nearly smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. "i had a partner, her name is sherry. we got ourselves into a situation and after years of putting shit together, i had found out a dark secret that played a part in the reason our world is what it is now.”

silence.

“what could be worse than umbrella?”

leon’s voice drops, face straining at the information sealed into his brain. it boils his blood to this day.

you frown, processing, seeing his reaction — it really was obvious. it didn’t take much for you to catch on. “wait, if you found intel, and the government coerced you into working for them . .” you enunciate slowly. “you weren’t — threatened, were you?”

"i planned to expose the government's complicity with umbrella to the public," he finishes coldly. “them finding out about that caused not only myself to be threatened with murder, but sherry. i wouldn’t let them touch her, so i kept my mouth shut and surrendered.”

it’s a deep cut, genuinely. it almost has you dissociating. to think of the countless lives lost due to the secrecy of the government. family, children. friends you’d known for years. this man you met today, ironically, could’ve saved the world had he gotten the chance to expose the government for their sick involvement. swallowing the truth, you try to keep your anger in check.

“and just when you think we’ve been conditioned to place our trust into the system —” a deep exhale falters, you’d endured so much, and now knowing this? it was heartbreaking. “we were being lied to. and now they’re trying to wipe out their evidence.”

silence falls between you again, thicker now, tangled with secrets and trust neither meant to give.

then, you snort softly, trying to ease the sudden pain. "well. . guess we’re both running from something then."

he can't help the ghost of a smile at your dry humor. "guess we are." he replies, some of the edge gone from his tone.

the air in the cellar feels suddenly less heavy, the truth, as jagged as it was, seems to have built a strange bond.

"i wanted to serve my country, and in a weird way, i still do. because people need me. do you think i’m an idiot for that?” there’s a softness in his tone when he asks this, the sincerity is clear. “do you think me abiding to threats was cowardly?”

“it’s a little fucked up that you had to deal with that,” you mutter, leaning back against a wall. “i don’t think it makes you a coward. however, it’s also fucked up knowing the world could’ve been saved had your intel been broadcasted. could’ve gone out in sacrificial fashion.”

he laughs softly. "that’s a compliment?”

you shrug. “yeah, it is. you want to save people, that’s who you are and who you’ll always be. you were betrayed and it wasn’t your fault.”

that was heartfelt, it was clear. leon appreciated that.

“now’s your turn.”

immediately, you wave your hand in protest. “another time, you’re making the room sappy.”

"you're a real pain in the ass, you know that?"

you smirk faintly. "it’s a gift.”

leon can't help it—he laughs again, low and rough. it's been a long time since he enjoyed bickering with someone.

"you've got a smart mouth, baby."

as if that didn’t make your face hot, you come back with a quick rebuttal. "yeah? g’na handle it?”

he looks at you—really looks, and something unspoken passes in the air. not just survival anymore, but something deeper. the world outside might be ending, but down here, in this dim, forgotten cellar? for the first time in years. . he feels alive. feeling his body break from layers of ample toughness. now progressing into forbidden arousal.

“hm,” he tuts. “princess likes to joke.”

you swallow, almost unconsciously. "stop calling me princess."

icy blue irises glint in the low light. "oh? what would you have me call you, then? sweetheart? ‘cause you’re far from sweet.”

trying to hide the way your heart’s hammering against your ribcage, you roll your eyes. crossing your arms and pouting next. "i’m sweet, swear. call me sweet.”

he chuckles, not fooled for a second.

"cute," he replies smoothly. "but now i’m thinking 'brat' fits you better."

you’re not backing down, now looking for a challenge.

“can you tame me, then?”

voice strong despite the sudden racing of your pulse, leon is pleased by that, humming and looking you up and down, a foot pressed against the wall, his brain trying to register if this is playful, harmless flirting, or you’re trying to get him to break. he wasn’t that easy, not at all. but, he did have a gripe for being taunted.

“seriously?”

“so serious.”

“mm,” he can’t seem to sum up words, or really, he didn’t need them. body language spoke for him, outing him in fact. a tongue digs into the gummy of his inner cheek as he then says, “what?” it comes out smooth, calculated, a honeyed taunt as the sapphire pigment in his eyes darken. “you want me to pin you down and fuck you?”

the pit of your belly swims with neediness, brain fogging up the moment he begins to approach you slowly, boots heavy and thumping, as if when he caught you, he’d keep you from running. with dirty blonde hair sleeked back, you can read the overtake of dominance on his face. it’s been building up, for sure. could’ve been from the second he started looking at you, to years of no sex, to the frustration of being on guard every day of his life.

stature towering over yours felt suffocating, but you weren’t afraid, you were weak. wanting to be in his skin, the substantial heat he carried, even his weight — strong muscles, lean body, just dying for him to drop all of his strength on you.

“speak up. you run your mouth any other time, what’s wrong now?”

that makes you crumble, whimpering out a breath and nervously bringing your hand up to your neck to clutch, the musk of his scent wafting around you. batting your eyes, you exhale and lower your eyes to his lips. pink, soft lips you craved to be on yours.

“you w’na be handled, right?” leon whispered, his voice making you press your thighs together to ease the aggressive throb.

“yes.”

“w’na be sweet to me?” breath now mingling with yours, he lowers his head so he’s eye level before giving you a hard peck to precious lips, your body melting from his teasing touch.

“yes,” it’s weaker now, your tone. eyelids lowering in desperation, fingers grabbing the ends of his shirt to scrunch into your fist.

he kisses you again, lingers it a little and detached when you try to kiss back. “w’na let me use you?”

“yes, i need it.”

“you need it,” he replies sternly. “so do i.”

a muscle in his jaw twitches, eyes slit in focus as leon removes your hand and replaces it with his own, gripping just tight enough for control, fingers splaying to cup the nape fully in his grip. his eyes flick down, noticing the way your breath hitches the closer he gets to your lips again.

he’s rough when he breathes, using the grasp to his advantage and backing you up against a nearby wall, your feet stumbling but he’s got you, he wouldn’t let you fall.

leon’s unraveling the leather of his heavy belt, and your heart speeds up in the matter of seconds from excitement. the need to push his dick in your throat burns in his eyes, and that’s ultimately clear when he’s forcing you to kneel and pressing your shoulders flat against the cold concrete. figure looming over you with broad shoulders, veiny strong arms and furrowed brows. body adorned in gear and hands touching the side of your face covered in fingerless tactical gloves — fingertips warm. he does something to your body you’ve truly never felt before.

"open up."

you hesitate, just for a moment, still trying to collect thoughts—then obey, lips parting slightly.

"c’mon, you can show me better. let me see it,” he instructs quietly, the tone biting with rouse.

moaning without conscious, you open it further, sticking your tongue out and opening the column of your throat to him, eyes low and waiting. leon itches to stick his fingers in to feel how tight it is, dick just throbbing at the thought. so, he does. taking an index and pointer finger to slide onto the velvet of your tongue before he’s reaching the ring in your esophagus. pushing in and out as tears begin to rise in your sockets. leon’s inhaling deeply, unzipping his pants and wrapping a tight fist around his cock he unsheathed through the fabric.

it’s thick — pink, like his lips. fighting its own weight as it curves just a smidge downwards, seeping with gooey precum.

"good job," he murmurs, voice lower, thicker. it almost scares you. he’s twisting his wrist after emitting a ‘puh’ sound as he spits on his dick from an upright position. “now stay like that."

he watches you closely, eyes raking over your face—the slight, cutesy widening of your eyes, the subtle pulse at your neck, the way your lips part even further at his praise. he’s been holding back what he’s been wanting to do.

"see how well you listen when you try," he whispers, fingers gently tilting your chin up to hold your gaze. “that’s what good girls do. keep that up.”

muscles are taut in his black tshirt, leon exhaling sharply as he sits the weight of his dick on your tongue for a feel, swiping it side by side, even up and over. it’s aching. so, he taps the tip three or four times on it, releasing his hold and letting it spring in front of your face. you don’t question anything he does, just letting him have his fun.

grabbing either side of your head with big hands, leon’s pushing his hips forward so he’s alas, sliding into your mouth. it’s not just need, it's hunger. passion buried under duty and survival. something as small as a tight suck and swallow made him desperate, needy even. your eyes widen as he pushes forward, gag reflex flaring, tears pricking at the corners.

but, he’s careful, hands cradling your head to keep you steady before he’s stretching his legs further apart to catch a good angle, thrusting into your mouth with his balls mushed to your chin.

"easyy," he murmurs, tinged with restraint. "breathe through it. use your nose.”

you whimper around him, fingers clasping together behind you as you arch your chest forward and press your thighs tight, all muffled and helpless — that sound alone nearly unravels him.

"m-mm, that’s right,” he growls low, thumbs brushing lightly over your jaw as he slowly pulls back just enough for you to catch another breath.

then—he watches you with dark intent.

"again."

you whimper again, this time in understanding, finding your rhythm and pressing your tongue flat on the underside of him, swirling around his shaft before subconsciously forming a tight seal with your lips, sucking and moaning. his hips twitch just a fraction—but he holds back from going too deep. for now, wanting to watch you.

"gotta nice mouth, baby," he growls, one hand threading through your hair with approval. “suckin’ it real good.”

your moans come out muffled and beautiful, just the way he likes. drawing your head back and forth as salvia builds up, allowing you to take him in and out quicker. it’s wet and sloppy, twisting your head and pulling him back in till he’s in your esophagus, nose touching the fabric of his cargos over and over.

"gooodd," he growls, thick with satisfaction. "close to bein’ sweet, ꒰ ♥︎ ꒱.”

leon pushes forward out of impatience, cock filling the hot cavern of your throat. he’s laying his forehead on the wall, using you like his personal use of a toy and delicately fucking himself in and out. with rough hips, he’s gliding in and out, hips twitching as the heat engulfs his shaft. he grips your hair, a silent command to keep looking at him. a breathless chuckle emits when you do.

you’ve never been looked at like that, felt like this before . . and you can feel yourself submitting to it. giving him everything he wants, everything you have to offer, because he's giving you something in return.

safety. need. desire. control . . but also understanding. because he understands you like no one else ever has.

“fuckk,” he’s got his mouth dropped open, lifting his knee so it’s rested against the wall, pulling your neck up and fucking your mouth to chase his pleasure. your slobbers and gags only amp him further. “yess, baby. you feel so good, baby.”

now he’s whimpering, hearing those moments of weakness leaving his breath felt unreal, your hips beginning to grind in your spot, eyes blurring and throat sputtering around him. you can’t bare it any longer, as much as you wanted to. finding yourself frantically tapping at his arm to alarm him, leon clenching his jaw. thrusting once slowly, twice more with a roll of his hips as if he’d forget how it felt, before pulling free. gasping loud and catching your breath, saliva trails down your chin, slithering down the softness of your tits. lips pouty.

“mmph,” the way you lick your lips and roll your waist into your wandering hand that finds its way rubbing your clit makes his brain overload, balls dripping with the beautiful trace of you.

“don’t fuckin’ do that,” leon threatens, “i won’t control myself.”

that makes you smile. “you don’t have to. let it all out on me.”

there showed a scowl on his gorgeous face, swiftly picking you up off the floor and running his fat tongue over your lips as he moans, grinding his dick against your stomach before gifting you with another slow kiss. it encapsulates you both, leon rotating his waist while you lower your shorts. then, he’s taking you towards the cot where he lays on his back and pulls you to sit on his face.

veiny hands slam down on your ass with both palms, moaning and shifting yourself comfortably above him, his tongue wet and hot on your clit as he captures it with a heavy lick. instantly, your eyes are white, scrunching your brows and dropping your mouth.

“o-ohh, fuck,” your whisper is whiny, peeling your shirt from your skin since you suddenly felt overheated, straps slipping off and the top bunched at your midsection.

leon’s grunting in your pussy, smoothing his palms all around the flesh of your ass as he’s slurping up every single drop you give. lifting yourself a bit, you begin to bounce your ass down on his face, leon heaving and kissing on your clit. every kiss resounds loudly, guttural noises enveloping from him while you grind and whimper, neck exposed to the air as you’d thrown your head back.

“babyyy, y-yes,” shuttering, you’d still your hips as he continuously swatted your ass, shaking it in his palms. “ohmygodd — leon.”

“mhmmm,” he drags out, stroking his tongue harder before his fingers find their way sinking in through tight, sloppy gummy walls. you find yourself grabbing at his bicep, indenting your nails harder as his long fingers pounded into you.

leon’s practically humping the air from repetitions of his name falling from you in broken whines and cries. dick jumping and furiously leaking with precum from its burly tip.

“꒰♥︎꒱, seriously. keep that mouth shut.”

“whyy?” you sniffle, jolting above him, stomach mushed to his face so you couldn’t read his expression.

“because it fucks me up.”

leon’s curling his tongue into you now, rocking you on his face as he fucks you open with it, lips engulfing your buzzing clit while he lands more heated smacks to your flesh. your body is stuttering, leon lazily dropping his arms back and reaching to entwine his fingers with yours so you lock on to him. you’d lower your face to suck on his fingers that left the aftertaste of you. clutching them tightly, you guide them to your love handles he fondles and uses to pull and slam you up and down on his face. keeping your back arched and elongating gasps.

“leonnnn! f-fuck, keep fucking meee!”

his groans are muffled by your pussy, because that’s how deep he’s got his face in it. chin slick with your nectar, gulping it down and sliding his tongue hard.

“cum on my tongue, ꒰♥︎꒱. she’s so fucking good to me. give it to me.”

tears well in your eyes when you finally give him what he wants, the coil in your tummy breaking as you shut down and gush into his mouth. it’s been so long since you’ve known what this felt like, shuddering from the harsh pulsating that your clit reacts from.

“t-thank you,” you gasp out, keeping your hands fomented to his.

he can’t help but grin at the praise, loving nothing more than that. “don’t say thank you now. we’re not there yet.”

carefully, he’s using your bond to lift you up to rise, standing above him before he’s helping you down to your feet — back to looking up at him like a puppy.

“turn around and stay there for me,” he’s twirling his finger in a circle, his hand snaking around your waist to guide you anyways. becoming an increasingly impatient man, which he didn’t like. didn’t know what it was.

leon’s dragging a wooden chair closer to you, hands burning on your skin as he smooths them around every inch of you, lip tucked between teeth before he’s using them to nip at the buds of your nipples gently, cupping your full breasts in his hands to suck on after. sucking on your lower lip, you bunch your hands at his shoulders, pressing yourself against his mouth. the fun thing about this is that you can never tell what he’d do next. he worships you, and it makes you blush all over.

kneading your tits, you help him by laying your palms over his, squeezing while he licks, bites, and kisses with a full, open mouth. slurping the peaked buds and giving you a midnight glare with his eyes.

“leon, please. please fuck me.”

“there you go calling my name again. it’s already g’na get you fucked.”

leon’s taking a seat on the chair behind you, making you stand straight, balancing his foot on a bar decorated on the underside of it. he’s slightly leaning the chair back and leveled off the floor to some degree, just enough so he can bring you down on his dick. a glob of spit drops on it from his own mouth, spreading and coating himself for extra lubricant.

“put it in you.”

and you do just that, reaching behind to wrap your hand around it, feel him pulsate before rolling your hips down to pull him in to you. you keep your posture standing up, knees slightly bent, the chair high enough, and leon big and tall enough to reach you. keeping one foot planted on the ground, he’s spreading his thighs wider to slip his dick in and out of you teasingly slow. you crumble in his touch, hiccuping as he stretches you open and makes you full.

“nnh,” he can barely speak, more broken sounds ensuing. his hands dig into your soft skin as he fucks you, each thrust steady yet greedy. he’s holding you rougher as he hisses and plunges his cock quicker, walls clenching tightly around him to which he reacts by kissing your spine. “f-fuck, that’s a good pussy.”

you can’t speak either, biting your lip and tossing your head back as he brings you up and down on his cock with needy pounds, skin clapping and the fabric of his pants rubbing against your pussy. eyes rolled to the back of your skull as you do nothing but sob and scream, nearly drooling from it all.

“sound so fuckin’ pretty,” he grunts, munching at your hips like he’s starved. you shudder from his form of affection and desire for you, melting in his capture, juices sticking to your inner thighs and his balls as they plop against your clit. “mmgh, b-baby, you feel too fuckin’ good on this dick.”

“mmph, you fill me up s’good, baby,” you whine in response, weakened by every delicious drag.

then, out of nowhere, a call breaches through on his watch.

“leon, are you there? do you copy?”

goosebumps arise on your skin, going to press your hand to his chest to get him to stop, but he refuses to let up. turning your head to catch his gaze, he’s visibly telling you to shut up. then, keeps moving. you squeak when he pats his fingers against your pussy, rubbing on the small bud while he digs farther with his dick. unexpectedly, you begin to gush around him, and it hits his muscular inner thighs and even the floor.

leon’s going blind while you hold in your noises.

“hunnigan . .” he pants, gloved hand covering your mouth. “now’s not a good . . time,” leon grits, regaining his eye sight.

“leon, you’ll want to hear this. baby eagle has been found and returned safely to the white house. military enforcement are pausing the eradication of raccoon city. however, the president needs you to report back immediately. it’s not sounding too good. i’m worried.”

the news makes his jaw clench, your eyes widening in shock all the while trying to keep yourself silent. his movements never stop, gyrating his waist and slamming rougher this time. he’s mad. you can tell by the huffs he releases against your neck.

“copy,” he grunts, nose flaring. a gasp falls from you when he swiftly stands to his full height, keeping your back pressed to his hot chest, the chair knocking to the ground before he’s wrapping his forearm around your midsection and fucking you faster. “i’ve gotta handle somethin’ real quick . . i’ll get back to you.”

face scrunched while he keeps his dick hitting that sweet spot within you, you can’t help the long drag of a moan after he ends the call. he’s bear hugging you from the back, fucking you even harder as he huffs by your neck, whimpers spewing past his lips. leaning closer, he slicks his tongue over your pulse point up to the back of your ear, kissing and moaning on your skin.

“ohmyfucking—g-god. rightthere, rightthere.”

choking on your sobs, he strains behind you, your mouth dropping as your hands trail to hold onto his knees, bouncing yourself back to meet him thrust for thrust. stomach shuttering and a bead of sweat trailing down the valley of your chest while whispering his name like a spell. it seemed to really rile him up, as you’ve come to know. his dick is hitting all the right spots, taking you just the way he needed to. aching for such a long time and finally fixing it.

“baby, want you to cum in me. fill me up.”

“jus—m’fuck. almost there,” he’s slurring his words now, fucking you in rough, almost jackrabbiting motions the closer he got to his orgasm. but it felt good like that, especially knowing he’s about to cum, grabbing at your tits and molding them while you laid your head back on his shoulder.

“mngh, leon,” you chew on your lip, whimpering his name each time he stretched you open. “l-leon . . m’gonna cum! s-stay right there, pleaseee.”

leon’s grabbing your chin, turning your face to kiss you and moan into your mouth, that feeling in your tummy happening again before you’re cumming around his cock, clamping your walls tight and crashing down in waves of cries.

“yeahhh,” his voice is deep as he mumbles against your mouth, sucking your lips and swatting your ass before he’s moving a hand to grip your neck. the build up in his stomach happens just as quick, rushing his tongue over yours whimpering out, “nngh, cummin’ baby, just for you.”

it’s hot when it fills you up, your moans synchronized as leon grinds his sharp hips against your plush ass, gasping and twitching as he’s spurting cum all in it. he holds you close still, laying his forehead on your back and gently kissing there.

neither of you knew what to say in that moment, choosing to stay in silence to really let what happened settle, and prepare for what’s about to happen next. he kissed you one more time, slowly disconnecting before you’d disappear to clean yourself up, switching and getting himself cleaned.

as he sits at the wooden chair where he fucked you on, the tingle still resides everywhere in your body. knowing you needed to get your head straight going forward. it was just a one time thing, didn’t need to be discussed. is what you tell yourself. as you watch him tie a knot on his boots, he’s raising his head to catch you staring, a pistol in your hand you load up with bullets before tucking it into your leg holster.

“are you okay?”

he asks it first, although you were more worried about him given the recent news.

“i’m coming with you. i don’t want you going alone. whether you like it or not, we’re partners now.”

leon only looks, the stubbornness returning in your eyes again, knowing you would not take disapproval. he chuckles, standing up and mentally preparing himself for the oncoming mission.

“partners,” he iterated, replaying everything that just happened in his head, even the entire day with you. he could deal with that, for now. but you’d surely be more than just partners.

smiling, you nod. “cool, now lets go. we’ve got at least a hundred and thirty-six miles to cover. should take us two days to reach d.c. i’ve got a vault full of supplies we need, even weapons.”

“you do understand the danger of being with me, right? it won’t be easy trying to overthrow the government. i need you to be prepared for that.”

“i already signed up for it the moment the government ruined our world,” you answer sternly, leon’s face showing nothing but content. “i have nothing holding me back. therefore, i am fully prepared.”

and that he couldn’t argue with.

leon approaches you, observing your presence before he’s playfully knocking a closed fist against your chin, hating how wide you smiled at each other afterwards.

“what, kennedy?”

a beat passes before he speaks up. “don’t let what happened make it weird between us, yeah?”

“i won’t, it won’t be.”

“okay. . . let’s go then.”

hours had passed since you left the farmhouse. you packed only what you needed: medical supplies, ammo, guns, and enough rations to last. you moved fast but careful—through backroads lined with abandoned cars and twisted trees. leon had gotten back in contact with hunnigan after his abrupt hang up. she informed the two of you that there’s been nationwide faceless broadcasting of the president announcing his desire to resign, even mentioning his daughter being taken captive, and his failure to protect his country. guilt tripping ths nation is what leon calls it.

it was all happening too fast, and none of it made sense.

"if the president’s gone dark . .” you trail off quietly as you crept past a ruined gas station under moonlight. "but someone’s using his voice on comms, why hasn’t congress been involved? they’re just allowing him to resign?”

leon’s jaw clenched. "either they’re using him as a puppet, or it’s just a ploy to get to me, just so he’d make himself look innocent.”

you glanced at him, feet scuffling through leaves. “i don’t understand how the president’s daughter was returned safely. he sent you out to find her. who could’ve brought her back if it was a hush-hush mission?”

“i have no clue. all i know is that i’m a target. with the information i know, and my failure to protect baby eagle . . i can easily be on the radar. if he gets rid of me, there’s nothing to be revealed.”

“you’re planning something stupid, i fear.”

"just keeping you on your toes."

you rolled your eyes, but there was warmth behind it, trust built now. you were allowed to let your guard down with him. by dawn of day two, you reached lincoln memorial—its grand steps cracked and graffitied, but still standing like a defiant echo of order lost. from there, one block east, the white house loomed behind armored barricades manned by black-clad troops. it was going to be tough trying to get inside.

leon had to think on his feet, running out of time. crouched low beside you under cover of rubble-strewn trees.

“we get inside,” he whispered, crouching low beside you, gripping his sidearm tighter. “find who's pulling strings and reveal what the presidents been hiding. you stay close to me, i’ll protect you.”

“we protect each other,” you turned slightly toward him, fire still burning behind your eyes.

and when both of your fingers brushed before parting for stealth positions? neither of you let go right away. because you felt safe with each other in this dying world. you’d have to survive together now.

little did you both know, you’d soon murder the most powerful man in the white house.

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