We Go Way Back | Leon Kennedy x (fem!)Reader
Summary: It's been 6 years since the outbreak in Raccoon City and you now work for the BSAA to try and justify all that you saw all that time ago. On your latest mission, you run into a familiar face, but neither one of you admits that they remember. Word count: 3.8k Warnings: smut! (18+!!!), angst attempt, feelings!!!, clueless reader and clueless leon, sassy/bratty leon (i tried), violence, swearing, gore(ish)
Part 1 | Part 2
“You ready, Rookie?” Chris asks.
It’s a cruel joke on his part really, not that he knew what it had meant to you before. You were simply the last agent recruited six years ago and the nickname stuck. Though, that was before the BSAA was recognised as it is now.
It’s hard to believe it’s been that long since the outbreak in Raccoon City, but there’s not a day that goes by that you don’t think about Leon Kennedy. The man that took his first day as an Officer more seriously than some people take their whole career. The man who sought safety for strangers before himself.
You see him in the faces of strangers, you hear him in the words of friends. You wonder if they look or sound similar in any way, or if you have just begun to forget him. Both are a sad reflection of the way that your heart aches a little, not knowing what happened to him or where he is now.
Of course, the critical thinking part of your brain tells you you’re being ridiculous. You had known him only for a matter of hours, but those hours spent together had come after the most hellish and hopeless week of your life. He was a beacon of hope in the impenetrable darkness of Raccoon City and whilst you had left the city behind you six years ago, the gloom had followed.
At first you had been relieved, simply to survive, but it didn’t take long for the guilt to creep back in. The words you spoke to Leon echoing in your memory ‘Why me?’
Days were spent keeping as busy as possible. Nights were spent avoiding sleep.
After a couple of months, you decided it was time to actively join the fight against Bio Terrorism. To make a difference. What you experienced during the outbreak couldn’t be for nothing.
“As I’ll ever be.” You’d barely gotten any sleep last night, but new intel had given you a location for an active lab, potentially run with Spencer’s involvement. It was an exciting possibility, for sure, but a dangerous idea to go chasing him. Even more dangerous to be going with the last remaining members of the S.T.A.R.S Alpha Team, whom he wanted dead.
“We’re just investigating, no need to worry just yet.” Redfield responds.
“Investigating with top of the range body armour and big-ass guns.” You quip.
“Precautionary.”
“They’re never just precautionary.” You mutter to yourself as you follow him out of the car to the rendezvous point.
The sun is setting on the approach to the library, a grandiose building that stands out against the almost two dimensional storefronts that surround it. “Is this supposed to be discreet?” You ask Chris, alarm bells ringing almost immediately.
“Rook. Do you read me?” Barry’s radio transmission breaks through your analytical gaze. Rook was your call sign and another unfortunate reason the Rookie title stuck.
“Bishop. I read you. What's your status?”
“The front door was open.” Barry hesitates, you look at Chris. “It's quiet. Too quiet.”
“Stay vigilant. Over.”
“Someone knew we were coming.” Chris affirms, eyes trained on the rooftops.
“And they didn't even have the courtesy to roll out the red carpet for us, shame.”
“Be careful what you wish for.”
You follow Chris through the worn white door, the creak signalling your arrival to not only your friends but possibly everyone in a two mile radius.
“Woah.” You say under your breath, walking past a decorative table, a stray book placed face down on its dusty surface.
The inside is just as luxurious looking as the outside. The floor and the shelves seem to be made out of the same rich mahogany wood. The shelves seem to go on forever round the outside of the room as well as upward, over two floors. The stairs are lined with a plush green runner, worn only in the middle from light usage, a heavy contrast to the clear aging of the rest of the building
Chris signals for you and Jill to check upstairs. You nod, pistol ready, leading the way with Jill in tow. You use the carpet to your advantage, softening the approach of your footsteps in the event of company - but so far, no such signs.
At the top of the stairs, you notice a picture of a man with two greyhounds. An unusual decoration for a library, giving you pause. The plaque reads ‘Professor Norman, Florence and Siera’. You narrow your eyes at the gentleman, a familiar suspicious look to his eyes. At face value however, you're struggling to pinpoint a name beyond the given ‘Norman’. John? James?
You move onwards, putting a pin in your bad memory, following the railing, past the shelves, casting a glance down to the lower level.
Chris comes out from beneath you, shaking his head to signify no present company. As you turn to continue, Jill gets your attention by clearing her throat and nodding her head towards a door, cracked open only slightly. Unusual amongst all the other shut doors in the room, closed for appearances if nothing else.
You reposition your hands on your gun before approaching the door. You push it open with your foot and aim your gun at the doorway.
Whilst expecting someone to be behind the door, you were not prepared for who you saw pointing a gun right back at you.
You blink. Dirty blonde hair. Blink. Blue eyes.
“Rookie!” Chris’ shout from below is meant for you, no doubt, but if anything were to confirm the identity of the man in front of you, it’s the way he responds to the call - his head turning sharply to the lower level.
It feels like years pass in that moment alone as he pauses before turning back to look at you.
The hidden entrance to the Police Station was not the last time that you saw Leon that night.
He had been retracing his steps to find substantial evidence of Umbrella’s involvement in the outbreak and found himself, once more, in the parking garage under the Police Station. He noticed the way the chassis of the cop car moved as he walked near. He knew it couldn’t be Infected, they wouldn’t be so concerned with being seen. When he opened the door to see you curled up on the back seat of the car, he was frustrated you had not made it out, but was selfishly glad to see you.
He got in the car beside you and shut the door gently. “What are you still doing here?” He whispered. He was scared. You both were. All of your strength was falling away in front of you with the things you had seen and heard. You told him about the little girl you met on the way down from the Police Station, and the mutated creature that had followed. The eyes on its limbs haunted your memory as you relayed everything to him. “Hey, hey.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s okay.” He said. You hadn’t realised that you were crying. “I’m here.”
He drew you into his chest in a hug, smoothing his palm over your back, up and down, slowly. “There you go.” He felt emotion catching up with him as he listened to your sobs. “I’ve got you.” He said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. The feeling of his lips drew you out of the safety of his arms momentarily. Looking up at him, wide eyed, he only wanted to take the pain away.
He didn’t know if it was the right thing to do or not but he did it. He kissed you like the world was going to end, because maybe it was. His hands held your face steady as he chased your lips with his own, moving in synchronicity. He pulled you towards him then, so fiercely that you had no choice but to move up and over him, onto his lap.
You winced, a complaint from the wound on your side. He flinched, afraid he had made it worse. “Can I take a look?” He asked, but you hushed him with another kiss before pulling your shirt off. “W-what’s that for?”
“You wanted a look.” You smiled.
“You’re impossible.” He laughed, his thumb coming up to the edge of the injury in a thoughtful assessment. It was a little red, but it would do.
“You’re impossibly cute.” You teased him.
“You think?” He looked up at you earnestly and you kissed the question off his lips.
You found yourself moving against him easily, in rhythm with each caress of your tongue against his. As you continued to rock against him, both of you began communicating in a mixture of light breaths and heavy sighs. He groaned into your mouth as you hit his clothed cock in a particular way that set him on fire.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah?” You moved again, slower, feeling him the same way he could feel you, right where you wanted him. His head fell to the side, inviting you in.
You littered kisses on his skin, light and lovely, in admiration of his strength and softness barrelled into one.
He sat up, his eyes clouded with arousal and frustration as he kissed you forcefully before leaning back. “God- this is so-” His kiss-swollen lips sparked amusement too joyful to suppress - your laugh broke through his frustration, making him laugh too. “Sorry, I just mean-” He leant his forehead on yours. “I wish we had more time.” You licked your lips, savouring the taste of him. “And a bed.” He groaned.
“I wish we had more time too.” You moved your head away just slightly, looking up at his beautiful downcast expression. “But let’s make do with what we have.”
They’re all the words he needed to remove only as many clothes as necessary to be inside you. The car rocked and your limbs knocked in haste, fear and lust.
He kissed you as you leant back in the back seat, hovering over you in the tight space. With all the preamble, you were already wet for him. He slid his cock inside of you with ease, and both of you breathed a sigh of relief. All of this was far from over, but the safety you found in one another was enough to let the walls crumble, if only for a moment.
His hips fucked into you quickly, a surprise that coaxed a sultry moan from the back of your throat, and only spurred him on more. Leaning on one arm, he used the other to wedge between you and the car seat, splayed across your back to draw you nearer. He began kissing your neck and whispering words of worship into your ear.
How beautiful you were. How strong you were. How capable.
The closer you got to the crescendo, the closer you were approaching reality and fear that awaited you. Leon came before you could process the tears that had begun welling up in your eyes. You kissed him through his high as he shuddered and moaned into your mouth until he was spent.
Whilst his thrusts slowed, he still tried to carry on to get you there too, but the moment had passed for you. “Hey-” You squeezed his forearm. “It’s okay.” Your eyes were glassy with tears as he slowed to a stop, kissing the tears away at the corners of your eyes.
“I’m sorry.” His eyes bore into yours as he watched the conflict in your face. “Is there anything-” You shook your head. He pulled out of you and wrapped himself around you as best he could within the confines of the cop car.
“You've got a city to save.” The words spoken into his chest were the last thing you ever wanted to say, but if you didn’t let him go then, you never would have.
Your jaw is locked half-open and unmoving. Suddenly you feel twenty one again, scared and excited all at once, your heart hammering against your chest. You try desperately to drink in his face, to quench your thirst for the memory of his outline, because what if this moment is as temporary as the last?
His brow sits low atop his features, fixed in a permanent frown, so different from the smile you remember. His features are sharper than they used to be, from his nose to his jaw, a face of marble with blue and purple hues painted under his eyes. Stoic and serene as though chiselled by Michelangelo. Not to mention his build. His arms, on show in a blue t-shirt, are substantial, to put it lightly. His hair is blonder, brighter perhaps from exposure to the sun, or maybe he dyes it. It’s longer too, it suits him, but god do you want to push it out of his beautiful face.
“Leon Kennedy.” He says, eyes locked on yours. You’re searching his eyes for any sign that he knows who you are whilst he silently hopes you already remembered his name.
“USSTRATCOM?” Chris’ voice calls up from the lower floor, taking Leon’s attention off you for long enough that you allow your unaffected mask to slip.
“How’d you know?” He lowers his gun. You do the same.
“Chris Redfield. I know about you.”
Leon barks a not-so-kind laugh in response.
The group reconvenes at ground level, less raised voices and cause for suspicion that way.
Leon reveals his team received a tip regarding bioweapon activity here but so far, he hadn’t seen anything more than dusty shelves. “Similar to what we heard.” Chris affirms.
“Are we not considering the possibility of a set up here?” You ask him.
“With what outcome?” Leon aims his question at Chris.
A pain twinges in your chest. Your past intertwined was beginning to unravel. He’s standing against the wall, his arms folded, guarded. He’s deep in conversation with Chris but you can’t bring yourself to listen anymore.
The book on the table catches your attention again. Though the library is old and dusty, everything seems to have a place. Except this.
You pick it up and turn it over in your hands. Jack and the Beanstalk. Jack.
It’s Jack Norman in that photograph. University lecturer and founder of Il Veltro.
“Were these guys here when you arrived?” You catch Leon’s question through the muddle of your connecting thoughts.
“Get down!” Chris shouts, just as bullets begin firing through the glass.
You curse as a bullet clips your shoulder, forcing you swiftly to your knees. You just know there has to be something else. Something more to this place. You screw your eyes shut, fighting off the fear that tries to overtake you in moments like this. You try to focus on something else, anything else to stop the pending panic attack.
Jack and the Beanstalk. Jack Norman. The green stairway, like a beanstalk. The picture at the top of the stairs. With the greyhounds.
“Cover me!” You shout, pressing your free hand to your shoulder in a bid to find relief for the pain, making your way up the stairs, two at a time. Bullets are still flying in and out of the windows. Barry and Jill taking one side whilst Leon and Chris take the other.
Lifting the picture off the wall you find a keypad sitting in a recess that had been hidden by the frame. Four spaces, underlined, indicate a four digit code. You can't be sure how many attempts you have to enter the code, or what will happen if you enter the wrong one, but you have to try.
Your first attempt is wasted on the publication date of the book in your hand. A disappointment to say the least.
You discard the book as you try to think of some other connection to Veltro.
The door smacks open, no one is yet visible in the frame of the doorway, but you know they are there. Chris and Jill fall back in unison, aiming at the doorway as they walk backwards up the stairs towards you; towards higher ground.
“It’s Veltro, Chris!”
“What? How’d you-”
“I’ll explain later. What’s a good four digit code for these fuckers?”
“Something to do with Dante? They love that guy.” As he reloads his shotgun, a grenade is thrown into the entryway of the library.
“Get out of there!” Jill’s plea is aimed at Barry, specifically, and he follows his orders with no hesitation, climbing the stairs.
“Kennedy.” Chris’ voice is commanding - it’s the reason he has taken the lead on all missions since before the BSAA - but Leon doesn’t listen.
The grenade begins to emit a smoke shield as three men approach, clad in gas masks, of course.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Leon grumbles. As the smoke begins to swirl, you can still make out the shape of his body as he takes his knife out of the sheathe on his belt and runs towards the front man, lunging at his neck. The man is too slow to move, his vision likely obscured by the small goggles in the mask. As such, he takes the hit, falling back into the men behind him.
He clutches at his neck with a howl. Leon turns his body away from him slightly before swinging his leg up into the air and kicking him in the centre of his chest, sending him falling to the ground, between the two men who still stand, for now.
He throws his knife into the air with a spin before grabbing it and plunging it into the neck of the man on the right. But as he does that, he uses his left leg to wind up another powerful strike to the man on the left.
As the man on the left falls to the floor, Leon reaches for his pistol and fires a shot to his head before yanking the knife out of the guy on the right.
When Leon turns back to face you all, his expression is unchanged. Something about that whole performance makes you want to kiss him, passionately. You turn back to face the keypad in the wall.
“What?” He asks as he walks up the stairs, aware of everyone’s eyes on him, except yours.
“What was that?” Chris’ question was meant to convey disappointment, but you knew he was impressed. You’d heard it before.
“Efficiency. We now have less of a time crunch for whatever the hell this is.”
“Whatever the hell-?!” You turn to cuss him out, but think better of it. Breathing out slowly. “Well, any suggestions for whatever the hell this is would be appreciated.” You can’t help the way you speak through gritted teeth. You’re not sure if it’s the pain in your shoulder or the pain in your ass (Leon). “I already tried the publishing date of Jack and the Beanstalk….don't ask.”
“Something to do with Dante, specifically the Canto, I think.” Chris amends his earlier thought.
“What about the publication date of that?” Barry suggests.
“It’s too vague, I couldn't narrow it down for sure.” You answer. “1300’s or something?”
“Try that.” You resist the urge to remind Leon about his manners and key in 1300. It beeps joyfully. “There you go.” His soft, patronising tone appeals to a part of you you don’t care to think much about, as a neighbouring bookcase moves out of the way to reveal a hidden room.
But just as the doorway opens, more people arrive outside the library. “I don't think they're here for their selection of contemporary works.” Leon remarks as he prepares his gun once more. You would laugh if he wasn't suddenly so infuriating.
“You two go on ahead.” Chris orders, stopping Leon in his tracks as he looks between you. “We'll handle this and be right behind you. Radio on up if there’s any problems.”
“I can think of at least one.” Leon mumbles. You choose to ignore him.
Chris, Jill and Barry move out, back towards the door, whilst you and Leon take the ladder down the hatch in the centre of the hidden room. It's probably twice as deep as the library is high, but a pretty low stakes journey, which is good, because your shoulder is starting to ache.
You try to shrug it off as you aim your pistol at the first door.
“I’m not sure this was a complete set up.” You say more to yourself than Leon. “I think something is definitely going on here but they thought they’d get us before we’d find whatever it is they’re hiding down here.”
“We won’t find out if we keep standing here - you need me to take point?”
“Be my guest.” The interaction feels bitter, the action selfish. But as he walks through the door, focusing his attention on scanning the room, he uses his body to hold the door open for you to follow.
“Thanks.” You mutter.
Leon heads for the computer situated at a desk in the far corner, whilst you work on opening up the lockers. Nothing. Bullets. Nothing. “There’s usually something better in these things.” You lightly kick the last locker before turning back to Leon.
“At least it isn’t a body. I’ve found one of those before.” He says as he flips through a notepad on the desk.
“Looking for a password?” You ask, looking over his shoulder.
“No, his grocery list.”
A noise erupts from the room next door and both of you stand up straight with your weapons aimed at the door. Except you can’t stand up all that straight with the wound on your shoulder.
“You’re smart.” Leon appraises, unusually.
“Yeah, and you’re a smart ass.” He laughs like he means it. His tongue dampens his lips as he regains composure.
“But when were you going to tell them you got injured?” You turn your head to look at him whilst he stares down the door.
“What are you talking about?” Your brain immediately turns to the injury on your abdomen, the one that he helped patch up, the one that never quite healed right.
“Your shoulder.” The noise on the other side of the door gets closer.
“Oh I-” You swallow. “It’s fine. I’m capable, I-”
The door crashes open, and the frame around it crumbles.
In the hole in the wall stands a frog looking creature, vaguely non threatening till it shows its long claws and sharp teeth. You switch immediately to your shotgun as Leon fires his pistol at his head, unfortunately ricocheting off reinforced layers of scaled slimy skin.
You pump the shotgun and aim for the softness of its underbelly, just as it leaps towards you, claws first. One shot and it flies backwards towards where it came from, another and it stays down.
“Look at you, Miss Capable. Aren’t you impressive?” You blush, your body and memory betraying you. “But I still think we should take a look at that shoulder, don’t you?”
I gave myself a hard time for this one, I hope I haven't left evidence of the 24th draft and I hope you enjoy this continuation of my lil Leon Kennedy Series <3 also Noah Kahan title bc emotions!!!
feedback, reblogs and all that stuff appreciated, have the best day
love, tj
