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✻Brett ✻27 ✻She/her

✻Hopelessly in love with several fictional men 🧡

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[scarletmika]

Unequivocally : ̗̀➛ Johnny Storm x Reader

Pairing: Johnny Storm x Witch!Reader

Summary: The Fantastic Four thought they were done dealing with cosmic threats after the defeat of Galactus. That is, until you crash-landed in Gramercy Park. Except, you aren't a threat, and Johnny Storm might be head over heels in love with a woman who couldn't care less for his flirting...again.

Warnings: little steamy but nothing major, making out, so much god damn fluff, some angst, some adult themes mentioned, strangers to friends to lovers, Johnny is a massive flirt, star-crossed lovers, slow burn, bittersweet ending but there will be a sequel, SPOILERS! for The Fantastic Four: First Steps, MCU spoilers, female reader but no characteristics described, reader kind of has PTSD, maybe some incorrect stuff regarding the 60s and how it worked but it's a fantasy world, VERY lightly edited so apologies for any mistakes

Word Count: 24,720 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here

READ PART 2: Irrevocably : ̗̀➛ Johnny Storm x Reader

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧

 “He’s late,”

Johnny Storm was barely paying attention to the conversation happening around the dining room table of the Baxter Building. Instead, he dug his hand even further into the Lucky Charms box, popping another handful of the cereal into his mouth.

Sue shot him a look across the table, half of the bits of cereal falling from the side of his mouth to the table. His only response was an incredulous look her way, which was met with an affectionate eye roll from his sister.

“He probably just got caught up with something,” Sue tried to calm Ben’s nerves, bouncing little Franklin in her arms as he babbled out nonsense of some kind. That was enough to bring a smile to Sue’s face, her lips pressing a kiss to the side of his little head. “You know how Reed is.”

“Ben’s got a point, though,” Johnny chimed in, as the giant rock hand of his friend swiped his cereal box from his hands. With a defeated sigh, he decided he wasn’t going to start a fight over it, turning his gaze back to his sister and nephew. “Last time he was late for Sunday dinner it’s because you were pregnant and he was having an existential crisis. As much as I enjoyed that crisis, I think we’ve dealt with enough in the last few months.”

He wasn’t wrong, and he knew it. They all knew it. A year later and the aftermath of Galactus and Shalla-Bal still hung in the air. The implications of intelligent, threatening life out there in the universe casting a shadow over every news broadcast across the globe.

“That’s exactly my point,” Ben high fived Johnny from across the table, turning his gaze to Sue as well. “If he’s this caught up with something to miss family dinner, that means he found something.”

“And we all know when your husband finds something, that spells trouble for the rest of us,” Johnny lit his hand on fire for added effect, lips pursed as he waved the burning flames around gently in the air. “For example…cosmic radiation.”

It was clear that Sue wanted to argue with the pair, but Johnny knew there was no arguing with them. Their point was made, and that smirk on his face creeped in as Sue sighed, rising to her feet with Franklin situated on her hip.

“Alright, fine. Let’s go see what he’s up to,”

The chorus of cheers shared between Ben and Johnny from behind was surely making Sue roll her eyes once again. Any moments that Johnny was given to bother his brother in law in the lab was a win in his book.

Following his sister into the elevator, Johnny snapped his fingers in Ben’s direction as they descended toward the lab floor.

“10 bucks says it’s another alien woman,”

Ben’s groan sounded through the elevator, bouncing off the walls. Short laughter from Sue mixed in with it, even as she shook her head in response.

“Johnny, just because the first one dumped you, doesn’t mean you can go chasing after any alien woman in existence,”

“She never dumped me, for your information. She heroically sacrificed herself to save me because of her deep, profound love for me,” the shove Ben gave Johnny’s shoulder pushed him into the wall of the elevator. All he could do was shoot the rock man a glare, following his family out of the elevator and onto the lab floor, but not before pretending to grab at little Franklin’s nose to make the baby laugh. “Plus, I think it’s about time little Franklin got an auntie. A cool one.”

None of them were prepared for the mess of a lab they were stepping into.

Papers scattered the entire floor, from the workstation to the chalkboards. Those chalkboards had a thousand equations scattered across them: some scribbled out, others circled over a hundred times. Poor Herbie was frantically moving throughout the room, trying and failing to pick up every piece of paper that he could and bring some form of organization to the room.

“Uh, Suze,” it was Ben’s voice that cut in first, the trio stood just outside the elevator doors in mild shock at the state of the lab that was usually pristine. “I think your husband may have finally lost it.”

“That or he bought some drugs and tried them for the first time,” Johnny tacked on in a mumble that still got him an unimpressed look from his sister.

Johnny wasn’t wrong, though, and neither was Ben. Reed Richards looked like a certified mess.

He stood at the far end of the lab, moving between workstations at the deep blue tables lining the area in a half circle. He typed viciously, new data points mapped upon the screens adorning the walls. The middle screen, the largest, held a map to the entirety of New York City, markings appearing every so often in certain sections of the city before disappearing.

Even as the group approached, Reed never moved from his place, still typing away as he mumbled to himself.

“Reed,” Sue spoke up, just as her husband stalked across the floor once more.

The freshly written upon papers in his hands fell to the ground the second he laid eyes on them. Hair slightly disheveled, tie almost entirely undone, Reed Richards looked as if he had been rocked by a hurricane.

“Something is coming,”

Those were all the words he had to say. Johnny felt as if the air had been knocked from his lungs, as if all the oxygen in the room had been sucked straight out. He heard the sharp intake of breath from his sister first, before Ben stepped forward.

“Reed, what are you talking about?”

Ben quickly had multiple papers shoved into his hands as Reed gestured to the large screen showing the map of New York. One of the workstations beeped as the scientist quickly logged whatever data his system had just mapped out, another blip appearing on the screen that Reed pointed to desperately.

“For the last fifteen minutes, I’ve been tracking these energy signatures,” the map zoomed in on a focused location of the city. “They’re appearing at strange intervals. They started just a minute or two apart, but have grown to be just seconds apart now. All contained in an area between 24th and 17th street, in conjunction with Park Ave and 3rd Ave.”

“Gramercy Park?” Johnny chimed in, crossing his arms over his chest. He cocked his head slightly, looking at the map and the park that lay directly between the streets his brother-in-law had just named off. Honestly, he was still trying to understand what it was he was looking at, or just understand Reed’s mental state as a whole. “Maybe your baby proofing didn’t work and the Wizard is just out of prison.”

“That was my first thought as well, but the energy signatures proved me incorrect,” Johnny only rolled his eyes, running a hand down his face at Reed’s inability to take a joke. “These energy signatures are different, even more so than those of the Herald. It’s a culmination of dimensional energy–energy that’s being pulled from the fabric of the universe itself–it matches with energies given off by planets, or even stars themselves. But there’s another component to it, something so inherently not scientifically explainable that I can’t understand.”

Johnny shared a look with his sister and Ben, and even a look with confused little Franklin, before Sue chimed in.

“Okay, so there’s some weird space energy in the area-”

“Energy that has organic life woven into it,” Reed emphasized for those standing in front of him. He crossed the room back to his desk, pulling up a clear imaging of the energy itself from a nearby street camera that happened to catch the pulse. It was like a burst of blue strands, interwoven, pulsing and dousing the surrounding area in color, before it blinked away. “This energy beats, like a heartbeat. It moves organically, as if being pushed and pulled by someone. Compare these scans with a simple energy scan of any one of us, anyone in New York for that matter, and the fundamentals match perfectly. This isn’t some cosmic energy seeping into our earth for a moment, there’s something attached to it, something causing it. It’s forewarning something–someone.”

The lab grew quiet, the weight of Reed’s words hung in the air. For Johnny, they hung a little harder.

The last time something–someone–showed up on this Earth, he’d almost lost his family, lost his nephew. He had lost his sister, even for just a brief moment, but that was enough. Enough to never want to be put through this again. Johnny’s jaw clenched at the memory, his gaze flickering back to the screens.

“Why’s the park empty?” he questioned, gesturing to the live feed of the park from security cameras placed around light poles. “It’s not even 8 at night.”

“Suspicious activity in the area over the last week. I spoke to the mayor and had a curfew put in place out of an abundance of caution,” Sue chimed in.

“Okay, so another space alien is coming,” Ben clapped his hands together, the sound echoing as it drew everyone’s attention to him. “We threw the devourer of worlds through a portal to deep space…let’s just do that again.”

“This isn’t Galactus,” Reed muttered, voice just loud enough to be heard by everyone in the room as he turned back to the screens before him. “This is something else.”

Before anyone else could speak again, another pulsation of blue energy directly in the center of the park this time. Bigger than the others, strands of energy moving and beating in the air. Growing brighter, bathing the park in light.

The power of the building flickered for half a second before the live feed into the park cut off suddenly. Reed tapped incessantly, trying to bring it back, but it was no use.

“Reed…what is that?”

On the main screen, right in the center of the park on the New York City map, was one single blip of energy. Unlike the other blips, this one didn’t leave. It held steady.

“Johnny-” his name had barely left Reed’s mouth before Johnny was at the windows of the lab, swinging them open before streaking through the air in a blaze of red and orange.

No one was threatening his family again.

Gramercy Park wasn’t far away from the Baxter Building, especially not for a man who could light himself on fire and streak through the air at speeds humans couldn’t comprehend.

The park and every surrounding street was quiet the second his feet touched down on the pavement, flames dissipating from his body with a single thought.

The trees rustled above him in the night time breeze, stray leaves breaking off of the branches and falling to the ground. In the distance Johnny could faintly hear the usual sound of New York traffic, the muffled sound of sirens streets and streets away.

Straight ahead of him, down the path, laid the circle of greenery and flowers planted around the statue that sat in the middle of the park.

When he approached the center of the park apprehensively, flaming fist at his side ready to attack, the last thing he expected to see was you.

Pacing back and forth until the point he was sure you’d burn lines into the ground under your feet, you were glancing up at the sky over and over, muttering something to yourself. He cocked his head as he creeped closer, taking in the clothes that adorned your body: a pain of jeans adorned with so many tears and holes he couldn’t comprehend why you were still wearing them, and a tight fitting shirt that plunged way too far down your sternum to be considered decent to wear…anywhere. He wasn’t sure he’d even seen a woman wearing a shirt quite that revealing before.

His foot hit a single branch littering the pavement, ten feet from you now, before you froze and spun on your heels to face him. Johnny was pretty sure every bit of oxygen in the air was ripped away the second his eyes locked with yours.

Well, fuck, you are the prettiest fucking woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

It was the only thought capable of filtering through Johnny’s head. Reed must have gotten something wrong in his data, been tracking something that didn’t really exist, because there was no way that you were the blip that had appeared on the map. You were just another New Yorker–a drop dead gorgeous one, at that–who was out past the mandatory curfew…even if the clothing you bore threw him for a loop.

You didn’t look scared of him, his hand still burning with flames at his side. He could see the way your eyes drifted to the fire, head almost tilting in curiosity, before you glanced back at his face. Your hands were held out at your sides, fingers flexing as if you were prepared to defend yourself if the need arose. 

Johnny wasn’t going to hurt you. You were a civilian, one who should be in her home during this curfew. Just another normal civilian that he would definitely be coming back to this area for the following day so he could figure out where you worked, or which cafe you visited most often so he could orchestrate a way to run into you again-

His watch beeped, that familiar alert sound. Johnny’s eyes tore themselves away from you for just a second to glance down: an energy reading, matching the same one from Reed’s lab, pointed directly at you.

Way to go, Johnny. Get the hots for yet another alien woman that’s probably here to destroy your world and kill your family. Nice job. Way to go. Ben totally isn’t going to make fun of you for this.

“I’m not usually one for telling strong, pretty women what to do,” Johnny quipped, flames igniting on his other hands, both now burning bright at his sides. “But you’re out after curfew.”

“Curfew?” you had practically barked out a laugh, and fuck Johnny hated the fact that even your voice was pretty. Even as it was dripping in disbelief. “Yeah, right. I haven’t seen a single curfew ever go into effect in this city through the multiple alien incursions it’s seen.”

Johnny cocked his head immediately: multiple alien incursions? Given that Shalla-Bal was the only alien he’d watched descend into Times Square, he was utterly confused.

“Makes sense–given that you’re another one of those alien incursions–that you don’t know about the curfew,” flames burning just a tad bit brighter, crawling up his forearms, Johnny raised his hands in your direction as he took a cautious step forward. “I’d prefer not to hurt you, doll, so why don’t we do this peacefully and you just come with me?”

It happened in the blink of an eye. Johnny’s eyes never left you as your head tilted just slightly, a flash of blue crossing your eyes as your fingers twitched at your sides, before suddenly his arms were enveloped.

Like a casing of blue tinted energy, pulsing around his hands and up his forearms, the flames that ignited Johnny’s skin were extinguished in moments. Blue eyes shooting wide open, he shook his hands frantically. Willing himself in his head, telling his flames to ignite, but they wouldn’t. Every wave of his arms did nothing, the blue energy unmoving and shifting with him.

“No use trying, pretty boy. There’s not a single ounce of oxygen in the air around your arms right now, so I suggest you keep the flames at bay because I’d prefer not to do that to your entire body,” you shot back at him. With a single wave of your hand, the casing of energy dropped from around his arms. Johnny let the fires reignite for just a moment, confirming that he could indeed use his power again, before his wide eyes shot back to you.

“...I’m going to be so honest, I can’t tell if I’m terrified or completely turned on right now,”

“I’m, also, not an alien. I grew up upstate. And, why does Gramercy Park look so…weird?” Johnny’s comment was ignored, even though it was a valid question that he was trying to work out in his head. He instead watched you spin around on your heels, pointing around the park and up toward the surrounding buildings. “I know I haven’t left the Sanctum in a few days, but I feel like I would’ve heard construction. That building was never white, that one–wait, how did they build an above ground subway system? That wasn’t there three days ago when I got in, and I know for a fact the city doesn’t have the budget for this.”

In all of his life, Johnny Storm had never been more confused. He’d sat through countless lectures from Reed about matters of organic chemistry that he didn’t understand in the slightest, or cooking lessons from Ben that ended in him shoving his hand deep into a box of cereal, and this was more confusing then all of those combined.

Your clothing, something just about the way you talked and looked, whatever the hell this blue energy was it looked like you were controlling–and what the hell was a Sanctum?

“Back up…the Sanctum?” Johnny chose to start there as you turned back to him. He chose to keep his flames at bay, having a gut feeling that if you really did want to cut off the oxygen around him you could, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with that. “Isn’t that, like, some type of Church thing? Are you from some weird alien cult?”

“I literally just told you I wasn’t an alien. The Sanctum Sanctorum, over on Bleeker street? You know…Wong, Stephen Strange, the Masters of the Mystic Arts?” you must have seen the confusion on his face grow, because Johnny could see the moment your back seemed to straighten. “Wait, you have no clue who they are? Actually–beyond that–you have powers. How do I not know who you are?”

“Great question, sweetheart. The Fantastic Four kind of just saved the world a year ago, so I’m about as lost as you are,”

Johnny wanted to be apprehensive, wanted not to trust a word you were saying. He wanted to be cautious, to put his walls up, because the last time someone had come down into his world like this, he’d almost lost everything.

But you weren’t Shalla-Bal. You weren’t standing on a silver surfboard, speaking with confidence and heralding the end of the world.

No, when Johnny looked at you now, he saw pieces of himself. Of little him, hugging Sue, losing their mother forever. Of the version of him that came back to Earth over four years ago forever changed: confused and scared. The version of him that locked himself away in Building Q, charring the sheets and everything around him as he cried, trying to understand what was happening.

“I meant what I said, by the way,” Johnny cut in, that usual charm infiltrating his words. You were still the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, and he was curious, more curious then he was the moment a woman coated in silver appeared in the air. You had his full attention, even if he was still trying to figure out who the hell you were, but he hoped showing off his charm would ease the tensions a bit. “You’re a very pretty woman…and I might be turned on right now, the jury is definitely still out on that one. Took my breath away when I first saw you, and you could literally do that if you wanted to. That’s hot.”

He watched as you huffed out the semblance of a laugh, still teetering back and forth on if he was a danger to you. Given the fact that you had demonstrated your ability to cut off his oxygen…he was hoping you wouldn’t see him as a threat anymore.

“Ah, a charmer, aren’t you? Knew someone like that, been awhile since I’ve seen someone so brazenly flirt with a woman,”

“Oh darling, that’s my whole brand,”

You hummed across from him, but he caught your body language. Slightly more at ease, not as rigid anymore.

“The Fantastic Four?” your eyebrow shot up, eyes still wide with confusion, but slightly less apprehensive than before, as you brought the conversation back to that name he’d dropped. “Bit of a pretentious name to give yourselves.”

“That was all the fans,” Johnny shot back with a hint of a grin. A ghost of a smile seemed to find your mouth as well, and Johnny mentally cheered to himself that it seemed he was able to convince you he wasn’t a threat to your life.

“Fair enough. The Avengers was chosen for us…I feel like I would’ve heard about another new superhero team being formed in our absence, though,”

Johnny’s confusion was back again as he mulled over your words.

“Avengers? What are they, some superpowered band?”

It was your turn to mull over his words.

“You…you don’t know who the Avengers are?”

There was a whirl through the air as Johnny watched you glance behind him. He turned too, eyes landing on the familiar blue of the Fantasti-Car landing behind him on the pavement, Sue, Reed and Ben stepping out just moments later, practically running down the pavement toward him.

“Johnny-!”

“No, no, wait!” he called out frantically, glancing back at you again. Your hands were rigid at your sides again, fingers flexing, eyes narrowed in a terrified glare in their direction. He glanced back at his family, holding out a hand for them to stop just behind him. “She’s not a threat, I swear!”

Ben’s thunderous steps came to a halt, his head thrown back to the sky as he let out the loudest sigh in the world. “Johnny, seriously, you can’t keep falling for every alien woman you meet-”

Johnny didn’t let him finish, spinning back around to face you. His eyes pleaded with you, hoping you would see his hesitance to hurt you, feet shuffling forward a few steps. You took one back for each step he made forward, that same blue energy dancing around your hands once again.

“I really don’t want to hurt you,” you spoke, voice steady and loud enough to carry through the air. Your eyes glanced past Johnny, to his family. “Any of you. It’s not who I am, that’s not what I do. But if I have to, I will.”

“We won’t,” Johnny promised, taking a glance back at his family. Ben seemed unsure, Reed apprehensive, but Sue watched him. Curious, unsure of what he might do next. He glanced back at you. “I won’t. We’re just as confused as you are right now.”

You laughed. “I really doubt that.”

Reed brought a device out from his pocket, that same alert that came from Johnny’s watch ringing through the air as he pointed it in your direction.

“It’s coming from her,” Reed announced. Johnny tried desperately not to roll his eyes and make a comment of ‘obviously’ toward his brother-in-law. “These readings are coming from her. I was right: she’s controlling this dimensional energy, bending it to her will.”

Johnny hung his head with a sigh, still mulling over making a comment as he turned his gaze back to you. It was apologetic, accented with an eyeroll, one that brought a hint of a smirk back to your face. It worked, though, as you dropped your hands, body relaxing once more as Johnny confirmed for you once again that they didn’t want to hurt you.

With a single flick of your wrist, the device in Reed’s hands was enveloped in that same energy, wrapping around it and carrying it over to your hands before their very eyes. Johnny froze, along with the three directly behind him, as they watched it happen.

“Not energy–well, not technically–it’s magic,” you explained, never taking your eyes off the device in your hands as you fiddled with the controls. “This thing is…so strange. It looks like such a primitive piece of tech but functions so modernly. Did you get this from Stark Industries? Is this some old prototype of Tony’s that Pepper sold you?”

“I designed it,” Reed answered after a moment. You hummed, flicking your hand again as the device made its way through the air and back to Reed’s hands. “Stark Industries, are they a foreign company? Do you work for them?”

Johnny watched that confusion bubble up in your features again, tinged with nerves now. He caught it, the way your leg began to shake as the pacing you’d been doing when he first showed  up resumed once again. All he could do was watch.

“T-This doesn’t make any sense. I’ve never heard of you guys, everything about New York looks different, you don’t know the Avengers, hell you don’t even know who Tony is!” you laughed, incredulously this time, as your eyes locked with Johnny’s again. “This has to be a joke, right? A-Are one of you Wong in disguise, trying to teach me a lesson for opening a book to perform a spell that I wasn’t supposed to touch-”

You stopped in the middle of your sentence.

Johnny took another step forward the second you cut your own words off with a gasp. Hand flying up to cover your mouth, your wide eyes never left him as he took a cautious step forward.

“We just want to help you. What are you talking about? Help us understand,”

“The Book of Vishanti,” you said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, like the four standing in front of you were supposed to understand it. “Wong thought I was ready for powerful light magic, h-he invited me so that he could show it to me, so that I could learn from it. I should’ve listened to him, I shouldn’t have snuck down there-”

Sue stepped up to Johnny’s side. He watched his sister, the easy look on her face, the understanding in her eyes, as she spoke softly to you.

“What happened before you showed up in this park?”

“I touched the book without him, I thought I could teach myself things without him,” you spoke quickly, shaking your head frantically. “I could barely read the spell and yet I performed it anyway. Either I fucked it up, or I did it right and I didn’t know what I was doing because…this isn’t my earth. It can’t be, not with all the differences.”

Reed and Ben joined either side of Johnny and Sue now, all four of them staring down at you in front of them as you came to a realization of what had truly happened.

Through it all, Johnny just couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Curiosity pulled at him, more than it ever had before.

“What are you saying?” Reed chimed in.

“I’m saying this isn’t my universe…I think I accidentally traveled the multiverse, and I have no idea how to get back,”

❤︎

Performing a spell from the Book of Vishanti that you couldn’t yet read was, in hindsight, probably the worst idea that you had ever had in your entire young adult life.

When the Sorcerer Supreme believes that you’re ready to handle a book such as that, lined with the most powerful magic and spells and knowledge of light magic that have ever existed…it’s not hard to get an ego about it and jump the gun. You could already hear the berating you’d get from Wong, the things that Steve would’ve said to you if he was still around, the things that Sam most definitely would say to you when you got back to Washington.

If you ever got home, that is.

It was a thought you tried not to dwell on. Every night, as you closed your eyes, you saw them. The ones still here, the ones taken from you even as you fought with every ounce of you to save them all. The final look in your best friend’s eyes before she destroyed the version of herself that she had become, destroying what felt like a piece of you in the process. All so you could wind up in a world without any of them, a universe so far away from your own, nursing what felt like a shattered heart as you tried to find a way home.

You cried enough every time your head hit the pillow of the bed that wasn’t yours, you wouldn’t let the tears find you during the day too.

To their credit, the Fantastic Four were the most welcoming and kind group of people you’d ever met. If a strange woman basically crash landed in your universe, claiming to be a witch, you too would probably have hesitated. But here you were, a week later, having taken up the space on the unused guest floor of the Baxter Building at the insistence of Susan Storm. Trapped in a universe so similar to your own, but so different.

You weren’t alive in the 60s of your Earth, but now you got the chance to experience it firsthand…with a twist. It was strange how retro and yet futuristic this Earth was. The technology was advanced, sometimes more advanced than anything you had seen in your own universe, and that was all thanks to Dr. Reed Richards. You had thought that Bruce Banner and his 7 PhDs was the smartest person you would ever meet, but Reed and his 18 Doctorate degrees blew him out of the water by miles. But beyond the advanced technology of the world, everything else was still so primitive.

The clothing was different, more modest and brightly colored than anything you were used to seeing before. The hairstyles were different, sometimes shorter, almost always poofier than they were in the 2020s. They talked differently, the music was different, everything felt so familiar and yet so wrong at the same time.

This little team, this family you had stumbled upon, had been nothing but helpful, even if they were still wrapping their minds around the idea of the multiverse. The protectors of their Earth, the only superheroes this universe had compared to the plethora yours seemed to have, but some of the most down to earth people you had ever met. Reed Richards was abrasive sometimes, but curious, asking a thousand questions when you would venture out of the guest floor about your magic and the scientific properties surrounding it and its composition. Ben Grimm was kind, giving you space, but always dropping off something to eat on the guest floor for you every day. Sue Storm was kind and bright, strolling in with confidence and her son, Franklin, perched on her hip, filling your closet with an array of clothing to wear so that you would be comfortable.

Johnny Storm followed you like a puppy dog, hanging off every word you spoke and popping up in every corner of the building you found yourself in, much like he was now.

“Find anything in there?”

You rolled your eyes, tossing the book borrowed from the city library onto the coffee table of the guest floor living room. It landed with a thud on the multiple other books that Sue had picked up for you before you glanced over your shoulder, seeing Johnny stalking toward the couch you were sitting upon from the elevator.

“Just more confirmation that witches don’t seem to exist in your universe, except in the fairy tales," you shot back with a sigh. Your gaze turned to the floor to ceiling windows adorning the wall before you, giving you a glimpse of the New York skyline as night crept in on it, the sun dipping below the horizon line in the distance. “Which leaves me with exactly what I started with: nothing.”

Johnny hummed, hands grasping the back of the couch from beside you as he too glanced out over the skyline. The record player in the corner played some Elvis tune, something to fill the silence.

“Can’t you just, like, do the spell again to get home?”

“If I knew what spell I did, probably,” came your answer as you glanced over to him, finding his blue eyes already watching you. “No clue what spell I did, so without that I have no means of traversing the multiverse.”

Your gaze watched him as he left the couch, stalking across the room toward the record player. Another eye roll left you as he plucked the Elvis record off the turntable in seconds, muttering something about how that record ‘wasn’t good enough,’ before combing the collection beside it for another one.

This wasn’t the first time he’d done this over the course of the week. It felt like Johnny Storm practically lived on this guest floor with you: he’d brought his dinner down every night to eat with you, lounged around the living room while you searched through book after book, and had gone through every bit of clothing his sister had procured for you and made comments about which ones he thought you’d look best in (spoiler alert: it was every single item).

You didn’t entirely mind. His presence felt like a soothing balm over the pain that still sat within you, his ability to joke and make anyone around him smile, able to slap a bandaid over what felt like a gunshot.

“What’s music like in the 2020s?” he called out from across the room, settling on a Bob Dylan record instead that he dropped the needle down onto. “Does everyone have giant record collections now, ones that would rival my own?”

“Music is…much different than what you’re used to now,” was the response you settled on, chuckling slightly as you tried to imagine the man across the room listening to the likes of Eminem or even Taylor Swift. Taking a sip of your drink settled on the table in front of you, you dug your now dead cell phone out of your pocket, waving it around. “We listen off our phones, can connect headphones to them wirelessly. Vinyl collections are usually just collections now, not typically used to play music.”

Your cell phone was plucked straight out of your hands by Johnny himself, who had crossed the room with impressive speed. With a chuckle, you shook your head at his antics, leaning your head against your hand as you watched him inspect the dead device.

“I should tell Reed to invent this thing. Have to use that big brain for something useful,”

“And somewhere in Chicago, I can hear Martin Cooper crying that his invention is about to be stolen,”

Johnny tossed your phone back onto the cushion next to you without another thought, plopping down right next to it. Head thrown back against the back of the couch, he turned to look at you again with a giddy grin.

“Ignore the little talking box device for now, can you show me more of your magic?”

That was the question Johnny had asked at least three times a day in the week you had been on his earth. It was cute, the way his eyes would light up with excitement like a little kid every single time you showed him something new. That sparkle in them, the grin that lit up his face every single time, as he’d beg you to show him again.

You tried not to focus too much on how cute it actually was.

“What haven’t I shown you at this point?” you laughed, smile bright, though you already knew the answer. There was a neverending stream of things you could show him.

“There has to be something,” he sat up a little straighter, leaning even more into your personal space now. “Come on, I have a witch sitting in front of me. I thought those only existed in movies and books. You can’t blame a guy for being interested, baby.”

Ignoring that pet name that so easily fell from Johnny’s lips, you took a quick glance around the room. Acting as the centerpiece of the table sat a fresh bouquet of wildflowers, curated by Sue herself and brought up as a gift. Leaning forward, you plucked a single daisy from the bunch, leaning back and holding it in the space between you and Johnny.

Your eyes never stopped watching him as that familiar swirl of blue magic seeped from you, enveloping the delicate flower. The thin, white petals merged together into five beautiful petals, the white coloring fading into an enchanting ombre of orange and pink. Then, as fast as it started, your magic dissipated and the blue hue that lit up Johnny’s face disappeared.

He took the new flower from you with the brightest of grins, a sight that stirred something deep within your chest you were keen to ignore. He took a single sniff, eyes glancing back to you as his smile slipped into a charming little smirk.

“What did that poor daisy ever do to you?”

“It wasn’t a Plumeria,” you shot back with a slight laugh, plucking the flower from his hand and slipping it back into the vase. “They’re my favorite flower.”

“Noted,” he casually stretched his arm over the back of the couch, resting it over the portion directly behind your head, as that charming smirk grew even more. “Want them incorporated into the wedding decor, or should I pin one to my suit jacket so you can see it while we stand together at the altar?”

With a bright laugh, your hand met his face, pushing him back slightly as you rose from the couch, sauntering over into the kitchen with your empty glass. You could feel his eyes on you with every step.

“I have to hand it to you, Johnny, your flirting this past week has definitely gotten more brazen with each passing hour. Be careful, you might fall in love,”

“Too late, that happened when you first turned around,” shooting a glance back at him on the couch, he dramatically flopped backward on the cushions, pretending an arrow had just struck him in the chest. It was impossible not to shake your head and laugh at the sight. “I took one look at you and thought…wow, that’s the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

You hummed in response, pouring yourself another glass.

“Does your charm and your flattery typically get you places with the ladies?”

“Depends, is it working right now?”

Ben had warned you about Johnny’s charming personality and what would surely be incessant attempts at flirting, but you hadn’t thought the man would be as persistent as he had been this past week.

You’d taken to keeping a running list in your head of some of your favorite lines of Johnny’s that he’d thrown your way.

Are love spells a thing? You could put one on me and I wouldn’t even notice: I’m already too far gone for you, baby.

Do you think you fell into our universe because you and I were made to find each other?

Before you head back to your universe eventually, we should send you back with the last name Storm. I think it fits you nicely.

Each one had made you laugh, and you begrudgingly had to admit that most of them were quite cute. It helped that Johnny Storm was as charming as they came.

From the moment you had laid eyes on him in that park that night you’d known it. This man was a heartbreaker, a face that girls across the world surely had hanging on their bedroom walls and were fawning over. Magazines called him a playboy, his personal fan club, The Flaming Hearts, swooned at his feet over how he was the ideal man women should strive for. You saw why they fawned: Johnny was attractive, anyone with eyes could see it. Perfectly swept to the side blonde hair, blue eyes that felt deeper than the ocean, and the charm and wit to have you laughing into the night.

He could flirt all he wanted, but it was going to take more than a flirty comment and a pretty smile to make you feel a thing. Johnny Storm wasn’t the first charming man you’d ever encountered, and he surely wouldn’t be the last.

“Sorry, pretty boy,” you shook your head, finishing off your glass that you’d just poured before dumping it into the sink for later. “Takes a little more than superficial flattery to butter me up.”

“I’m pretty sure you just called me pretty, that has to count for something,”

“It doesn’t,” you shot back, leaning against the island counter as you looked across the room toward him. Johnny was rolling off the couch in the most unelegant way, hopping back up to his feet to lean against the other side of the counter from you, shooting you a wink.

“You know what they say–denial is the first step to falling in love,”

“Acceptance. The quote ends in acceptance,” you barked out another laugh, shaking your head as the man as you stood up straighter. “Now, what did you actually come up here for, or was it just to bother me?”

Johnny clapped, eyes going wide as he seemed to remember exactly why he’d come upstairs in the first place.

“Right! It’s Sunday, family dinner night. You’re invited, and I was volun-told to come and get you,”

“Of course, because I’m sure you really protested being given that job,”

As charming as ever, he shot you another wink as he banged his hands on the table.

“You already know me so well, darling,”

“Are the pet names necessary?”

“Why, are they making you swoon?” yet another wink was shot at you.

“Johnny, I’m sure your charm works on just about every other woman in this universe. You want me to swoon? It’s going to take a lot more than that,” you pointed toward the shirt on his body, the bright blue logo over his chest shining in the light. “Plus, wearing your own team merch all the time? How superficial of you.”

He feigned hurt over your comment, looking down at the logo himself.

“I’m just representing the team. Plus, it’s comfortable, like our suits are too,” Johnny instantly snapped his fingers, eyes wide again as he giddily smiled toward you across the counter. “Your suit! You’ve never shown me your superhero suit! Come on, I’m dying with anticipation here, baby.”

Even as you rolled your eyes, you indulged his request. With a single flick of your wrist, your clothing shimmered in blue tendrils of magics, transforming it into the suit you knew like it was a second skin. Reinforced black and blue fabric that trailed high up your neck and down to your wrists, down your waist and finally tucked into the black boots that sat directly below your knees. That shimmering silver “A” still sat on your belt, something you were never able to part with.

Johnny let out a low whistle, teeth biting into his bottom lip as his eyes scanned you up and down over and over again.

“Hot damn…remember that comment I made about being turned on? Yeah, yeah this is doing it for me,”

With yet another eye roll, something you were learning you did quite frequently around him, you waved off the magic and dissipated the suit once again. The look you shot at him was anything but impressed, even if you were trying to hold back laughter.

“Why are you like this?”

Before some other flirty comment could fall from his lips, the elevator dinged across the room, its large doors sliding open. Neither of you were expecting it to be little Franklin Richards stumbling out on his tiny, wobbly legs.

Tufts of blonde hair on his head, blue eyes wide as could be, a happy little smile overtook his face as he spotted the two of you in the kitchen. His little hands clapped together, incoherent but otherwise happy babbles falling from his lips.

“Frankie! What has your mom told you about playing with the elevator, little guy?”

Johnny was across the room in seconds, sweeping Franklin into his arm with a single swipe. The laughter of little Franklin echoed through the room as Johnny dipped him, practically holding the little guy upside down, before spinning him upright. The little boy wearing a matching grin to his uncle, the man he could practically be a twin of, continued to laugh as Johnny pulled his shirt up, blowing a raspberry directly into his stomach and muttering something about how ‘magic babies never listen to their mothers.’

The skip your heart did at the sight was enough to have the beginnings of a flush crawling up your skin. Maybe his charm didn’t work on you, not his flirty jokes, but this? Seeing the side of Johnny Storm that the media didn’t see, the part that wasn’t the persona he played up for the world, was enough to bring a soft smile to your face and to fully understand why people across the world fell for him so easily.

Willing the blush to go away, desperate to hide the evidence that you did, in fact, find this man cute, you stalked across the room until you came to stand beside the man and his laughing nephew. They both turned to look at you, looking like twins with their bright smiles and blue eyes. Another round of giggles fell from Franklin as you swiped your finger over the edge of his nose slightly, pushing past them both toward the waiting elevator.

“Well, come on then. Guess I shouldn’t be late for my first family dinner with the Fantastic Four,”

In all honesty, you needed Johnny to put Franklin down. He looked too adorable, making faces at the little boy as he pressed the button for the main living area on the elevator. Franklin just continued to clap, babbling nonsense.

“You’re good with him,” you cut through the silence after a moment, smile still soft as you watched the two of them beside you in the confined space.

Johnny glanced up, an air of sheepishness finding him as he laughed lightly, looking back at Franklin. The little boy was watching you once again.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? Always loved kids,”

Bringing your hand up between the two of you, with a single thought you let a little ball of blue magic appear along your fingertips. Franklin’s eyes widened, following the movement of the little ball of magic as you rolled it around your fingertips, dancing it around his head and back to your hand.

Your eyes flickered to Johnny after a moment. His head rested against the wall of the elevator still slowly moving its way down. His smile was soft, softer than you’d seen it look at you before this week, his eyes holding a gentle pensiveness as they watched you.

“What?” you questioned lightly. He shrugged, adjusting Franklin on his hip.

“Nothing. You’re just good with him, too,”

“Well, he’s not the first baby in my life,” you answered, the edges of your smile dropping just a fraction as you thought about her. The little girl that was only, what, 6 years old now? Brown hair and eyes just like her father’s, the wit and sass to match it. Universes away from you, a little piece of someone you used to hold so dear that you may never see again.

“Whoever you’re thinking about,” Johnny was more observant than you gave him credit for, picking up immediately on the thoughts that seemed to plague your mind, even if he didn’t know the full extent of them. His fingers lightly grazed your cheek, an action that you so wished didn’t feel so nice. Comforting, warm with the heat that burned within him, brushing a strand piece of hair back behind your ear, tucking it there. You met his gaze, burning with a quiet determination. “You’ll see them again. We’ll get you home.”

Ignoring the slight flutter behind your ribcage, you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, you’re suddenly content with letting me go? I remember Ben telling me yesterday that you were planning to keep me trapped here forever,”

His laughter echoed into the living room as the doors to the elevator pushed open, allowing the three of you to step out into the room fully. Ben was hard at work in the kitchen, calling out things to their little helper robot, Herbie, who zoomed around the kitchen at his command. Reed’s arm stretched out across the room, setting the table without ever leaving the kitchen, his other arm wrapped around his wife as Sue laughed at something he said.

“Oh I’ll help get you home, but there are conditions to your departure,” Johnny shot back, walking alongside you toward the dining room. “The one non-negotiable is that you have to leave unequivocally in love with me-”

“Whoa, that’s a big word for you, Johnny-”

“You also have to leave admitting that I’m the most charming man that you’ve ever met-” he cut back in, cutting you off after you had cut him off.

“I mean, you’re definitely on your way to joining the ranks of Tony, Quill, and Joaquin-”

“You also have to leave with the last name Storm,” Johnny spun, back facing the kitchen, as he shot you a wink. “We can negotiate that one. I don’t want to rush our wedding, but I’d prefer you go back home with it. A little something to remember me by.”

Sue Storm was quick to slap Johnny on the shoulder as he dipped into the kitchen, practically tossing the laughing baby into his sister’s arms, before ducking around her to dip his hand into the pot of sauce that Ben was working to season. His rocky hand whacked Johnny on the shoulder, who pretended to crumble to the ground in pain as Ben cried out “you haven’t even washed your hands!”. Reed’s arm stretched across the room, coming between the two and pushing his brother-in-law to the other side of the kitchen without a word, trying to maintain a semblance of peace.

Sue sighed, pressing a kiss to her son’s head, before she turned to you: still standing still, frozen in place by the dining room table, watching the events before you unfold with a smile you couldn’t hide if you tried.

“Welcome to family dinners,” she told you with a laugh, Ben once again yelling at Johnny in the background as he dipped his hand into a cereal box. “Before you ask: yes, it is always this chaotic.”

The chaos was nice, it almost felt like home. A home you hadn’t known for years now. Watching them, you could almost picture them all, the family you used to have: a flash of Natasha’s red hair in your head, the sound of Steve’s laughter, Tony’s quips that Sam always met back just as quick, Wanda muttering to you about how you worked with idiots.

Johnny’s eyes met yours again, a soft smile and a playful wink sent your way before he ducked out of the way of Ben’s arm again, and that was somehow enough to soothe that ache in your heart for just one night

❤︎

“I know people usually look exhausted after leaving Reed’s lab…but you were down there for two hours. I’m surprised you’re alive,”

Stalking across the room into the kitchen of the Baxter Building, you faked a laugh in Ben’s direction, dipping into the fridge for a bottle of water to nurse the headache you could feel approaching. The man let out a laugh at your actions, shaking off his oversized trench coat and tossing it over toward the dining room as he placed the multiple paper bags in his hands down on the counter.

“I am, too,” you shot back at him, hopping up onto the island counter beside him to sit. Ben just laughed at your antics, rifling through the bags on the counter from the market down the street. “He asked for more blood tests, so I consented even though I told him he’s not going to find any answers to why I have magic in my blood.”

“And did he?”

“NO!”

Ben’s laugh thundered through the room as he put some of the groceries away in the cupboards. Returning to the island counter, he dipped into a smaller, white paper bag, producing a small sleeve of paper holding a warm cookie within. The headache you felt coming on almost completely dissipated the second the sweet smell filled the air.

“Good thing I grabbed some of these, then. Eat, before you pass out from blood loss,” you didn’t argue, taking the gooey chocolate chip cookie from him with a smile and sinking your teeth in. “It’s from Maisie’s. Figured it was about time I showed you the best cookies in town, not sure how I held off for two months.”

Two months. It was a time period you tried not to dwell on. If you thought too long about how long you’d been stuck in another universe with no way back home, you were sure you’d start spiraling more than you did every night that your head hit the pillow of the guest floor. The guest floor that was slowly just becoming your floor.

If you thought about it too long, you’d remember how you were starting to forget the sound of Sam’s laugh. How this was the longest you’d gone without visiting Pepper, how Morgan was probably asking where you were. You hadn’t put flowers at Nat’s grave in so long, you could only hope her sister had gone and changed the flowers.

“Well, it’s quite good,” with a slight shake of your head, you sent Ben a strained grin, enjoying the taste of the cookie. It wasn’t a lie, it was quite possibly the best cookie you’d ever had. 

Ben hummed, holding your gaze for a moment, before he smiled. It was soft, but you could see it woven in: the pity.

“Thinking about home?”

You swallowed, both the bite of the cookie you’d taken and the lump that formed in your throat.

“Yeah…always am. I hate how good you are at reading me, by the way,” Ben chuckled at your comment, returning to putting the rest of the groceries away in their designated spots. “Reed offered to invent multidimensional travel again today.”

“Did you say yes?”

“No, I turned him down like I do every time,” Ben returned as you shook your head with a wry laugh. “It sucks because I know he could do it, he’d have me home within a week. But multiverse traversal spells exist, they have for a very long time, which means they obviously don’t blow a hole in the space-time continuum. I don’t need Reed to accidentally blow a hole in the entire multiverse just to get me home.”

Ben hummed. Placing one hand on the counter, his other rocky hand laid across both of your legs, delivering the slightest of squeezes in comfort that he was able to. You looked up, meeting his eyes, and practically melted under the kindness and comfort in them.

“You’re going to go home, I promise you that. You’re homesick: it’s where you belong, it’s full of the people you love, and we’ll get you back there. But think of it like this: you’re in a different universe, how many people get to experience that? Take it in, enjoy it, learn from it, eat all the Maisie’s cookies this world has to offer. The people you love will still be waiting for you back home, no matter how long it takes to get there,”

He moved away, his hand sliding back down to his side and he returned to the groceries. But his words stuck with you, hung in the air, settled deep within you.

The quiet hung there in the room for a moment as you just watched him, placing cereal box after cereal box on a shelf near the fridge. He met your gaze again when he turned around, rocky brow raising in question as you let a sigh slip past your smiling lips.

“You remind me a lot of Steve,” Ben waited, letting you collect your thoughts, never pushing. “He always knew what to say, especially to me. That’s how it feels talking to you a lot, like I’m talking to him again. I…I miss being able to talk to him.”

“Well, you can talk to me anytime,” he motioned his hand toward the cupboards of the island counter blocked by your legs. Sliding off the countertop, you stepped to the side as he bent down to put another bag away. “Who do the others remind you of?”

You mulled the question over in your head, grabbing a bag from the counter and helping Ben place the rest of the groceries away across the kitchen.

“I think Reed has to be Bruce, simply because they’re both too smart of their own good. Sue reminds me a lot of Natasha, with the way she takes care of everyone. Nat was quiet about it, but she was always picking up after the boys. Johnny…unfortunately reminds me of Tony. He’s got his same sass, wit, charm and flirtatious nature,”

Ben waved his hand in the air, a grimace on his face.

“Please, no, I don’t want to think about there being another Johnny out there in the multiverse,” you laughed, catching the bottle he threw in your direction to slot into the fridge. “Speaking of matchstick, where’s he at? He’s usually attached to your hip, what with his whole plan of whatever he calls it-”

“Ah, you mean Johnny Storm’s Complete Guide to the 60s?”

It was the dumbest name in the world, but given that Johnny had named it, you weren’t surprised. He’d taken it upon himself to give you a complete guide to what the 60s were like, with the added footnote that the weirdly futuristic 60s they lived in was bound to be different than the 60s of your own universe. Johnny had claimed you were too ‘cooped up’ on your floor of the building, and it was time you got out and ‘lived a little’ since you were here.

Johnny’s guide to the 60s began with bowling. He’d been so excited, sliding into those custom shoes for the alleyways, that you didn’t have the heart to tell him until you were beating him by 70 points in the 8th frame that bowling was very much the same game in the 2020s.

“No, that’s unfair!” Johnny had called out, mouth dropped open as he pointed an accusatory finger in your direction. The manual scoresheet in his hand was all but crumpled at this point. “You didn’t tell me bowling was still a thing!”

“To be fair, Johnny, you didn’t ask,” was the only response you could manage through your laughter, grabbing your ball once more and aligning yourself with the lane in front of you. “Bowling is very much still around, and very much the same game. I guess you just aren’t as good at it as you think you are.”

You weren’t laughing long, a spark of heat igniting along the back of your hand just as you let go of your ball. Your hand jerked immediately at the feeling, sending your ball rolling straight into the gutter. Mouth dropped open, it was your turn to point an accusatory finger in Johnny’s direction.

“Hey!”

“Leveling the playing field here, baby,” he teased, skirting by you as his fingers bumped your chin slightly, before he grabbed his own ball as his body was racked with laughter. “Now, let me show you how good I really am at this game.”

Johnny’s own laughter was short-lived. His ball made it halfway down the lane before coming to a sudden stop along the slick surface, surrounded by a hum of blue magic that flicked it off into the gutter. His betrayed face turned to face you, met with your smirk and hand held out toward the ball. You only batted your eyelashes at him.

“Hey, if you’re going to level the playing field with powers, then I am too. It’s only fair,”

“Oh, I’m going to show you fair-”

The laughter that poured out of you mixed with a shriek the second Johnny practically tackled you, throwing your body over his shoulder like it was nothing and parading you down the alley, highfiving little kids along the way as you could do nothing but laugh, smile never slipping for a second.

Go-Karting, on the other hand, was definitely a little different in the 60s. The karts themselves were much different, a lot less structurally sound at times and incapable of doing the speeds that you knew Johnny really had wanted to drive them at. He had claimed to win the race fair and square, even as you pointed out that he’d gone as far as to melt one of your tires right before you crossed the finish line.

Record stores, golfing, roller-skating, you named it and Johnny dragged you off to do it. He filled every moment with vibrant stories: the record store was one that Sue liked to take him to when they were growing up, golf was something he fell in love with after coming back from space with powers, and how roller skating was something he swore he’d never do, but the smile on your face the entire time had been well worth it.

The diner had been your favorite. Griddles & Waffles, nestled deep in the heart of Queens. A 24/7 joint that sold breakfast and breakfast only, a beloved place by locals. Johnny had been awake into the early hours of the morning that night, the only one still up, diving into a box of cereal buried in the kitchen when you screamed. The next thing you knew, he was practically diving out of the elevator onto your floor as you shakily grabbed a glass of water in the kitchen, eyes wide and panicked as he informed you that he could hear you scream floors away. One look at the state you were in and he was shoving you into the hoodie he was wearing and shoving you out of the building and into his car.

“You took me to a place with waffles in the name, and you ordered pancakes?”

Johnny’s eyebrow shot up, half of the stack of pancakes in front of him practically shoved into his mouth as he pointed the fork in his hand in your direction.

“Don’t you ever diss these pancakes, you hear me? Best flat pieces of dough in the entire state of New York,”

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly under your breath as he barely got his words out through the food in his mouth. Taking another bite of your own waffle, it was easy to get lost in the decor of the diner. Bright colors, shiny metal gleaming under the lights, it looked exactly like the recreations that existed in your own universe. The simple thought of home brought your frown back in seconds, and Johnny was instantly snapping his fingers.

“No, there’s no frowning in Griddles & Waffles, you hear me?” you rolled your eyes, but that simple thought weighed heavy on you, lips still pulled into a frown. Johnny made some motion toward the waitress before he leaned into the table toward you, drawing your gaze to him and his waiting, patient, gentle eyes. “Honey, I’m surprised that scream didn’t wake anyone else up. What’s wrong?”

“It was nothing. Just a nightmare…a memory of a day I don’t like thinking about,” you tried to deflect, shoving your fork around your plate, scraping it against the ceramic. Johnny’s hand caught yours, his eyes still soft and gentle, as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze until you relented. “It’s…I don’t like talking about it. I don’t get nightmares about it often anymore, but when I do, it feels like I’m there again: in that forest full of nothing but blood and dust.”

The blonde hummed, fingers gently rubbing small circles into your knuckles. His skin was warm, unusually warm from the heat that coursed through him, the feel of it on your skin bringing a sense of comfort. Then, he took his hand away, holding both his hands out like he was presenting something, that dazzling smirk of his lighting up his face.

“Have no fear, because Griddles & Waffles has the perfect cure for sadness!”

The waitress came back, sliding a single tall glass onto the table between the two of you with two straws tossed down onto the tabletop. You glanced at it: one large, over the top, classic chocolate milkshake with a large cherry resting right on top. You looked back up at him, your eyebrow raised this time.

“A milkshake? At two in the morning?”

“Have some faith in me, baby,” Johnny teased, slipping the two straws into the shake with ease. He took the cherry between his fingers, easily biting off the majority of the fruit as he twirled the stem between his teeth. Your eyes flicked down for just a second, to the stem between his lips and the hint of red juice that covered them, before your skin flushed and your eyes were back on his. “This is about to be the best milkshake you’ve ever had, and it’s going to cure every bit of sadness in your body.”

Johnny was known for exaggerating, but you indulged him anyway. With a short eyeroll you leaned in, taking a single sip from the straw pointed in your direction. Johnny waited, his smile wide and bright as his fingers tapped against the table, the sound echoing through the mostly empty diner in the middle of the night.

“...alright, it’s pretty damn good,”

His cheer echoed through the diner, the waitress shooting him an unimpressed look as his hands banged down on the table. Another round of laughter slipped past your lips as you shook your head at his antics.

“See? You have to trust me more often,” Johnny teased, leaning in to take a sip of the shake from his own straw. “These milkshakes are the cure to sadness.”

You didn’t have the guts in that moment to tell him the shake didn’t cure anything. No, you felt lighter simply from that boyish grin and the laughter that fell from Johnny Storm’s lips, something you weren’t keen to admit quite yet.

“Talking about me, baby? I leave you alone in the lab for a few hours and you miss me that much?”

As if hearing his name from floors away, Johnny Storm himself came strutting straight into the kitchen, charm rolling off him with every step he took. That smile of his was as bright as ever, eyes wide and full of mirth.

He practically skipped up to your side, tossing the box of food in your hand somewhere onto the counter. Cradling your hand in his, he brought it to his lips without another thought, pressing a featherlight kiss to your knuckles. His gaze never wavered from you the entire time.

With a roll of your eyes, though paired with a smile full of affection, you shoved him off, placing the box of food he’d just tossed away into its rightful place as you shot him a look over your shoulder.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Johnny. Contrary to what you think, you are not the only thing I’m thinking about,”

“You see, but that implies that I am one of the things you’re thinking about,” his response came easily as he made his way over to Ben, stealing one of Maisie’s cookies from the bag before he could be stopped. Ben only let out a sigh that could probably be heard from the other side of the city. “Nevermind that, though, I came here on a mission. The sun is setting and we’ve got a 40 minute drive, so get upstairs and attempt to look even cuter than you already do, if that’s possible.”

Exchanging a quick look with Ben as Johnny walked backwards out of the kitchen and back into the living room, you both looked back at the blonde moments later.

“Get ready for what?” you questioned. “To go where?”

“Long Island, sweetheart. Your guide to the 60s continues tonight,” he paused at the stairway, one hand on the railing and the other pointing across the room toward you. “Meet me in the lobby in ten minutes, got it?”

You considered arguing, but the truth was, you didn’t want to. Every one of these excursions with Johnny so far had been fun, had been enough to fill that little hole in your chest for a fleeting moment, and right now you wanted that more than anything.

“Alright, ten minutes,”

He clapped, beginning to move up the stairs as he practically shouted across the room.

“Good girl. It’s a date-”

“It is not a date-” your words fell on deaf ears as he went sprinting up the stairs, yelling out a distant “It very much is a date!” from the next floor. It was impossible to ignore the heat spreading in your cheeks at his words, though.

The silence of the room only hung there for a minute before Ben’s laughter filled it, echoing off the walls. Shutting your eyes for a moment, you let out a deep breath, trying to understand the enigma that was Johnny Storm sometimes, before patting Ben on the shoulder as you moved toward the elevator.

“Well, wish me luck on whatever this next excursion is. Hopefully it doesn’t involve him almost whacking me in the head with a golf club again,”

“You’ll be just fine,” Ben called out from the kitchen, speaking through his laughter. You could clearly hear the underlying teasing tone to his words. “Have fun on your date-”

“Benjamin, don’t start with me!”

It might not have been a date, but that didn’t mean you weren’t going to try. There really was no reason to, though: Johnny had seen you at your worst over the last two months. Always arriving on your floor sometimes at the crack of dawn with an idea for the day, startling you before you even had a chance to wipe away the mess of tears streaking across your cheeks from yet another nightmare you’d just awoken from.

It wasn’t a date. Just because you chose the cutest pair of pants and a sweater that the closet full of 60s style clothes offered didn’t mean anything. Not a damn thing.

You hated to admit how good Johnny looked in just a simple grey sweater and some slacks. Strutting toward you through the lobby of the Baxter Building, employees already sent home for the day and leaving the lobby bathed in silence, he let out a short whistle as he came to a stop in front of you.

“You say it’s not a date, but you sure do look nice,”

“That’s because your sister filled my closet with all nice clothing,” you shot back.

Johnny hummed, eyes still scanning you up and down. Eyes finding yours again, he held out his arm to you, just as he typically did on these little excursions.

“Come on,”

Hand resting in the crook of his elbow, the cool night air sank deep into your bones as you stepped outside. Johnny’s hand was quick to find the handle to the passenger side door of his custom blue Corvette, swinging it open and taking your hand in his to help you into the leather seat, just as he always did. 

The leather made a noise as you shifted, buckling yourself into place as Johnny cooly slid into the driver’s seat. One hand rested on the wheel, the other drumming along the knob of the gearshift as his foot hit the gas, sending you speeding out of the drive of the Baxter Building and onto the roads of New York.

“What’s today’s adventure?” you asked after a few moments of silence. Johnny’s grin simply brightened, his glance finding you beside him for a second before his fingers turned the knobs of the radio on, filling the call with music as he continued to cruise down the streets he knew like the back of his hand.

“That’s a surprise, sweetheart. Just enjoy the drive,”

It was easy to enjoy it. The same city you’d grown up in, yet so different at the same time. Every building looked new, the atmosphere felt lighter than New York had for you in years, everything about the city you knew so well felt different. The lights, the skyline, everything still felt like home as you crossed the East River, flying through the streets of Brooklyn and eventually Queens.

The heaviness eventually found you, though, just like it had every day for the last two months. As city lights shone off the windows of the Corvette, bathing you in its light, your mind still wandered back to memories. The first time Tony had driven you upstate to the new compound in the passenger seat of the god awful orange Audi. The quietness that came with the blip, the way the entire city fell still. The sweeter moments, like dragging your best friend from the compound late one night and sneaking into the city, sitting along the Brooklyn Bridge to admire the lights.

“Hey,” those memories came to a halt, Johnny’s hand brushing across your knee, settling there with a gentle squeeze. “You’re thinking hard over there.”

You hummed, head still resting on your hand as your elbow sat against the window of the car door. You let your eyes settle on his hand, just watching the way his thumb drew circles into the side of your knee.

“Reminiscing on my New York, that’s all,”

“Ah, getting homesick,” the sight of Johnny nodding was just barely visible out of the side of your eyes, His hand slid from you, joining his other hand on the wheel. “You’ll go home, back to your futuristic universe eventually, I know it. Then you can forget all about us in this little universe.”

The radio was blaring a Frank Sinatra song, something much too slow for the night time around you. The song crackled through the speakers as you glanced over, observing the side of Johnny’s face. For a man that hid behind such an extravagant persona for the media and the fans, you could see right through it. That hint of sadness in his own features, woven into the creases of his eyes and the lines around his lips, at the thought of you leaving.

I fall in love too easily, I fall in love too fast. I fall in love too terribly hard.

“I think you’re underestimating how much I will miss you guys when I go home,” you told him simply, the music playing lightly through the speakers. It really was that simple, it was the truth. “I’ll miss you guys a lot. I’ll miss you.”

Johnny’s hand seemed to tighten along the steering wheel for just a second, so quick you almost missed it. Those blue eyes glanced over at you, catching your gaze. His features were riddled with something you couldn’t understand, but could see how gentle it was, until his charming smile was back, wiping away any trace of the strange emotion you had seen.

“Careful there, little witch. It’s starting to sound like you’re falling unequivocally in love with me-”

His laughter filled the car, overtaking the sound from the radio as your hand reached out and shoved his shoulder, your own laughter mixing in with his own.

“You’re fucking impossible, Johnny Storm,”

Of everywhere that you could’ve thought Johnny would be dragging you to, a drive-in theater was the last place you would’ve imagined. 

The entire stretch of lawn buried deep within the heart of Long Island was packed with cars of all different kinds, vintage ones you had never seen in person. There was a group of teenagers crowded around one of the cars, hugging their friends and talking animatedly between each other. Some couples walked through the lines of vehicles, giggling together under their breath as they carried their food from the little stand off to the side.

Johnny pulled the car to a stop in one of the last remaining spots, side windows immediately rolling down to allow the sound from the mounted speakers to infiltrate the car. Night had set in, an announcement projected onto the large screen that the movie would begin soon, as you turned to find Johnny already watching you with a wide grin.

“Come on, don’t tell me you’ve been to drive-in theaters too?”

“They’re still a thing, but I’ve never been,” was the response you gave, a small laugh falling from your lips as he excitedly punched the air. “I have always wanted to go to one, though”

“Then your wish, princess,” in his usual dramatic fashion, Johnny stole your hand in his. With a kiss placed to your knuckles, he was already halfway out of the car before you could truly process the moment. “Is my command. Be right back with the snacks.”

You watched him the entire time he was gone. From the moment he slipped out of the car to ordering something from the snack stand, you watched. Even as the young girl working behind the counter seemed to fangirl at the sight of the Human Torch in front of her.

His charm was stupid most of the time. Little one liners, flirtatious jokes, touches that were all but friendly in nature. You didn’t care for a single one of those moments. It had been awhile, but you’d seen Tony use the same tricks. In the briefest of time you had known Peter Quill even he had tried it. Those moments meant nothing to you, but these did.

Bringing you breakfast in the morning just so you didn’t have to be alone. Dragging you around the city to participate in a thousand activities on the off chance that you hadn’t done them before, once again so that you wouldn’t feel alone and left with your thoughts. Hearing a single scream from you, seeing a single tear, and dragging you through New York in the middle of the night just to see you smile again. Those moments worked on you–meant something to you–more than you wanted them to.

The moment he was swarmed by a bunch of little kids trying to leave the snack stand didn’t help the turmoil you felt inside either. Johnny didn’t complain, not once, simply balanced the food in one arm so he could lean down and high five one of the girls, ruffling the hair of another little boy standing right next to her. He smiled wide, you could see the shake of his chest as he threw his head back in laughter, igniting his hand quickly as the kids all clapped and gasped in awe at the sight of their own personal superhero. There was a news reporter nearby, calling out for a photo that Johnny happily posed for with the kids, leaving them with one last story that had them all looking up at him in awe and adoration.

You hated the stutter that occurred in your heart. You weren’t dumb–you knew what it meant. Johnny Storm was charming, handsome, a literal superhero that had captured the hearts of the entire world. He, also, was the most down to earth man you had ever met sometimes, more observant than you gave him credit for, and too sweet for his own good.

If you thought hard enough, you could almost hear Wong’s voice in your head, scolding you for slowly falling for a man from an entirely different universe. The definition of a man you could never have, never meant to be yours.

“Got swarmed by some little kids, had to make sure I showed off the flames,” Johnny’s voice broke through your thoughts as he slid back into the car, passing a bag of popcorn over the console and into your hands. Just as he did, the large screen in the lot changed, the beginnings of the movie beginning to play as some of those teenagers from earlier began to clap and holler. “Just in time.”

Shaking those thoughts from your head, trying to will them away, you brought your gaze back to the screen. The opening shots of the credits, directors names and actors names plastered across the screen as it dove into the first scene without hesitation, situated on some mountain with hoards of people who were dressed for an even more vastly different time period than now.

“Spartacus?” a questioning glance was thrown Johnny’s way from you as you took a quick bite of your popcorn. “An action/adventure movie was your choice for a drive-in movie date?”

“Hey, you’re the one who said this wasn’t a date,” Johnny retorted, meeting your glance as he took in another handful of popcorn himself with a cheeky grin. “Besides, I didn’t peg you to be a romance movie kind of girl.”

“On some occasions I can be,” you gave back with a shrug. “A good action movie is definitely more my speed, though, so good choice.”

“What can I say, I know you,”

He did. He really did.

It was barely an hour into this three hour movie when your mind finally began to drift off again. Legs curled up on the seat under you, your own popcorn bag finished off and discarded at your feet as you reached over to steal from Johnny’s own bag, you found your thoughts leaving the movie once more. But instead of thinking about home, about the people you lost or the ones waiting for you to come back, you found them on Johnny once again.

Watching the side of his face quietly, you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him mouth some of the words to the movie under his breath, almost mimicking the accents of the actors themselves. It was enough to elicit a small giggle from your lips, bringing his gaze from the movie over to you instead.

“Are you quoting this movie word for word?”

“Hey, don’t knock it. I happen to really like this movie,” your giggles persisted, even as Johnny reached into his bag and tossed a handful of popcorn in your direction. “You should see Ben watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s, he could probably act that entire movie out for you. Don’t tell him I told you that.”

“You’re both such dorks,”

“Come on, don’t you have a movie you can quote?”

You hummed, letting the question sit with you for a moment, memories rushing back over you.

“Not a movie, but a show. Full House,” Johnny’s gaze never left you, the movie long abandoned in his eyes for a moment. An idea sprang to mind, your head tilting ever so slightly as you shot him a grin. “Want to see it?”

Excitement crawled into Johnny’s eyes immediately, his head nodding as he sat up straighter in the driver’s side seat.

You took a deep breath. Holding up your hand to the door beside you, that familiar blue magic seeped from your fingertips as that same color glowed in the irises of your eyes, crawling along the interior of the car until it reached the windshield. Your eyes were watching Johnny once again, the absolute wonder in his eyes as his windshield shimmered in blue, before the screen through the windshield changed before your very eyes: gone were Kirk Douglas and Laurence Olivier, replaced instead by John Stamos and Bob Saget in that iconic kitchen of their San Francisco home.

With another flick of your hand, the speaker at your car switched, playing the sound of the show you were now broadcasting instead of the movie.

“Don’t worry, no one else can see or hear this. Just us,”

Johnny was barely paying attention to what you said, too busy dipping his head in and out of the window in shock and awe, the screen beyond the windshield still playing Spartacus while within the confines of the car your tv show was playing.

“You…I don’t know how you do it, but you somehow get hotter every time you use your magic,”

Laughing, you reached into his popcorn bag and threw an unpopped kernel at the side of his head. Resting back into your seat, arms wound around your knees, you found yourself lost in the scene before you on the screen.

“This was one of Wanda’s favorite shows,” after a minute of silence, engrossed in the scene, you told him. You could feel Johnny’s eyes watching you instead of the show. “She always liked older shows, like Bewitched or I Love Lucy. We used to watch this one all the time in the compound, whenever Steve didn’t have us training constantly.”

Johnny didn’t say anything for a moment, just watched you.

“She was your best friend, wasn’t she? I don’t think you’ve ever said her name,”

“That’s because it’s hard to talk about her,” finding his gaze again, the gentle comfort shining in his gaze washed over you, as if draping you in a blanket. Swallowing the lump in your throat that always formed when you thought too hard about her, you offered him the smallest smile you could muster. “Just a few weeks before I wound up in your universe, I lost her. She lost herself to dark magic, let it consume her, so like the brave woman she was, she chose to protect the world from herself.”

Your words hung in the air, neither of you speaking for a moment. The scene from the show continued to play out before you swiped your hand through the air, dissipating the magic and letting the picture and sound of the movie return to the screen and the little speaker. It hurt too much to relive those moments.

“Hey, do you think by showing me a show that hasn’t come out yet in my universe, this will mess up, like, space and time? Like, what if I go pitch this show to Hollywood real quick and get it made a whole decade before it’s supposed to get made?”

The car got quiet, the only sound being the audio from the movie still playing through the speakers. Raising an eyebrow, entire face contorted in confusion, soft  laughter sputtered out of your lips at the simple comment.

“I…what? Johnny that…” his smile grew, as did your laughter as you struggled to get your words out. “Johnny, that doesn’t make any sense?”

“I’m aware,” his hand reached out, thumb and index finger pinching your chin between the soft pads of his fingers. Your breath caught, laughter dying down as you just stared at him, as he drew small circles into your skin, heat blooming under his touch. “You were getting sad. I just don’t like seeing you sad.”

Johnny’s words were so sincere. Not a hint of his usual charm, not a single signature Storm smirk in sight, just genuine affection. Genuine care for you, for your thoughts, for the way your memories made you feel.

The idea of never going home again hurt, but the idea of leaving the Fantastic Four? Of never seeing Johnny Storm again? That was starting to hurt even more.

Even as his blue Corvette was parked in front of the Baxter Building again late that night, headlights flickering off and plunging the car into darkness except for the street lights around the building, your eyes kept flickering back to him.

Driving through Queens, you no longer thought back on the memories of walking through the city one night with Steve when you were younger. Now, you thought about the diner, about the smile on Johnny’s face as he watched you try that milkshake in the dead of night. As you crossed over the bridge into the city, you didn’t think of the nights you and Wanda would sit on the edge and watch the city lights, you instead watched the way the lights danced over Johnny’s skin through the glass.

The elevator of the Baxter Building popped open on the floor of the main living room. The building was quiet, just a lamp in the corner by the staircase to the bedrooms lit up, everyone else fast asleep.

Johnny stepped out of the elevator, pausing just barely still in the doorway. One arm leaning on doors, keeping them open, you both just stood still and watched one another for a moment.

“For a not date, this very much felt like a date,” you threw at him after a moment. Those blue eyes of his lit up, smile lines etching themselves into his skin as his little grin grew immediately.

“Oh sweetheart, this definitely wasn’t a date. Our first date would be a lot different, trust me,”

You hummed, taking a step forward in the elevator, eyes never leaving his. There was barely space left between the two of you now. Johnny's sharp intake of breath was evident, the smile on your lips growing as you ignored every little voice in your head telling you this was a terrible idea.

“What would our first date be like?”

Surprise crawled into his expression. Eyes wide and bright, the smile on his face warped into something you couldn’t quite place. The hand tucked into the pocket of his slacks crawled forward, gingerly placing itself against your waist. Not pulling you closer, just lying there: steady, grounding, present. You didn’t push him away.

“The Regent,” he spoke softly but certainly, eyes never straying from yours. “Exclusive little dance hall just a few blocks away. Live band every night. You’d look just as beautiful as you always do, and I’d get to spend the entire night spinning you around in circles. Making you smile, watching you laugh, holding you close. That would be our first date.”

You hummed, stepping just a hair closer to him. His fingers flexed along your waist, squeezing ever so slightly, as one of your hands came to rest on his chest, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Sounds like you’ve thought about this,”

“Every night since the moment I realized you weren’t a threat that was coming to destroy my entire world…again,”

“I don’t know,” you teased, hand curling into the fabric of his shirt. “According to Sue, you’re kind of into that thing. I could always coat myself in some shiny silver paint if that does it for you.”

He huffed out a puff of air in laughter, tugging you in until you were pressed to his chest in the doorway of the elevator.

“No, you just have to be you. The pretty little witch that could cut off my oxygen supply with a flick of her wrist is all I need. All I want,”

Your eyes trailed down, along the bridge of his nose, until they settled on the pink of his lips. As you spoke, you never looked away from them.

“When would this date be?”

“Tomorrow night, 8 on the dot,”

“That’s so soon, eager?”

“Extremely, I’ve only been thinking about this for two months,”

Your laughter was soft as your eyes finally trailed back to his, only to find them settled on your lips in turn.

“It’s a date, then,”

His blue eyes found yours, shining with an affection that made your knees week. The hand gripping your waist trailed up, fingers dancing along every curve of your body, until it curled around your cheek to cup it within his hand. The heat of his skin bloomed through yours, sending a single shiver down your spine.

“You know,” his voice was low, eyes blown slightly wider than they had been before, as his eyes quickly darted back down to your lips for a moment. “This would be the moment during the date where I’d probably try and kiss you.”

Even with the flutter of butterflies through your chest, head feeling lighter than it ever had before, your lips curled into a wide grin. Eyes glowing blue for just a moment, a small burst of magic left the hand resting on his chest, pushing him backward and out of the elevator doors.

Johnny’s wide eyes watched you as he caught himself, steadying himself on the ground as he stared at you with a dumbfounded smile. You only returned the look, pressing the button for the guest floor without ever breaking eye contact.

“Guess you’ll have to try your luck tomorrow night,”

Even with the amount of bravado laced into your words as the elevator doors swung shut, cutting you off from Johnny’s captivating gaze, nothing could quell the swell of emotion building behind your chest at the simple thought of the blonde man who’d managed to capture your heart without even really trying.

❤︎

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you want to go on a date with matchstick. I mean, he’s my buddy, he's a great kid, but come on. There’s no one waiting for you back in your universe?”

Ben’s comment earned him another affectionate eyeroll from you, along with a deadpan look shot across the kitchen island counter.

He was deep into making a fresh batch of cookies that he had been given the recipe for, the little old woman he’d met claiming they could match the quality of Maisie’s cookies. Reed was skeptical of the recipe, trying to offer advice from further down the counter, but Ben waved him off every single time.

Little Franklin was sitting in his highchair at the counter between you and Sue, babbling incoherently as he played with the little pieces of cereal laid on the counter in front of him. You were simply flicking the little pieces around with little tendrils of blue magic, Sue laughing every single time Franklin tried to catch a piece and you yanked it away.

“No, Ben, there’s no one waiting for me back home,” was the answer you gave the man, never looking up once as you continued to toy with the food on the counter. “Being a superhero for most of your life kind of makes dating an impossible situation.”

“I, for one, fully support this,” Sue chimed in, rising from her chair to refill Franklin’s bottle on the counter. She passed behind you, reaching out to help smooth down the white long sleeve blouse along your shoulders, forcing you to adjust it along your waist where it was tucked into the navy blue slacks she had helped you pick out earlier on. “This is the first time I’ve seen Johnny so head over heels for a woman in a way that might just stick. He worships the ground that you walk on, I love to see it.”

“It helps that you could kill him if you really wanted to,” Ben threw in for good measure, ducking the slap that Sue tried to land on his shoulder. “Sometimes I think it’s a secret kink of his-”

“Okay, I don’t want to hear about what kinks my little brother may or may not have,”

You laughed at the antics you had grown so used to from the group in front of you. Franklin got upset with the constant moving of his little cereal bits, grabbing a handful and tossing them toward you. Wide eyed at his antics, you grabbed onto his tiny hand, blowing a raspberry into the palm of his hand as his shrieks and giggles sounded throughout the room.

“Reed, I’m surprised you don’t have any comments to add in,” you threw in the super genius’ direction. “Nothing about how we’re from two different universes, or how this could blow up the entire multiverse?”

“I’ve been taking notes regarding it, actually,” Ben’s groan sounded through the room the second Reed said it, pulling a notebook out of his back pocket and flipping it open. “Your genetic makeup, based on previous tests, seemed to align with ours, but that doesn’t mean that fundamentally there isn’t something woven into your DNA that doesn’t match with ours. There’s also the idea that, given you’re from two different universes, you were never supposed to meet, so if you managed to fall in love there could be an unforeseen breakdown of the fabric of the-”

Sue’s hand immediately clamped over her husband’s mouth, giving him an unimpressed look, as she shot you the brightest smile she could manage. She slid the now refilled cup for Franklin across the counter to you as you caught it, laughing under your breath at the entire situation as you handed it over to the little boy beside you who made grabby hands in its direction.

“What Reed means to say is that you’re good for him, and honestly, we haven’t seen you as happy as you’ve been the last few weeks since you started spending more time with him. Since you got here he hasn’t done a single PR nightmare worthy thing. I think Lynne might want to get you the keys to the city for it,”

“What are we getting my girl keys to the city for?”

Maybe his charm never worked on you, his endless flirtatious moves and jokes. But in this moment, as he descended the stairs into the living room and your heart stuttered over several beats, you finally understood the hoards of women across the universe that had Johnny Storm plastered across their walls and their hearts.

The navy blue button up he adorned clung to him, almost slightly too tight on him as the fabric pulled in the creases under his arms and by his waist. It was tucked into a pair of white chino pants, accented with navy blue dress shoes. His smile was bright, cheeky as it always was, his hands clasped together behind his back as he made his way across the living room.

Taking a semi-shaky stand on the strappy heels that Sue had helped you into before, you met him halfway across the room, a hush having fallen over the kitchen as you felt their eyes watching every movement both of you made.

Johnny’s eyes trailed up and down your body the second you came to a stop in front of him, taking in the navy blue of your pants and the white of your blouse, before he cheekily shot you a wink.

“Twinning on the first date? What’s the slang they use in your time for that? Couple goals, wasn't it?”

“Couple?” your eyebrow shot up. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Storm. You have to earn that.”

“Oh, I’ll earn it,” his hands finally unclasped from behind his back, thrusting out toward you. “For you, gorgeous.”

A beautiful bouquet of flowers: Plumeria flowers. Glittering in an ombre of pinks and oranges, taking you back to one of those first nights on that couch just a few floors away. 

You took the bouquet in your hands, eyes never leaving Johnny’s as you inhaled the sweet scent that wafted from the petals. The adoration that shone in his blue eyes sent your heart into another flutter.

“My favorite,” you responded.

“What, did you think I’d forget?”

“Kind of,”

“Give me a little more credit, darling,” he lifted one of your hands from the bouquet, cradling it in his as he left a kiss along your knuckles. “When it comes to you, I don’t think I could forget even if I tried.”

“Can you two leave for your date and go flirt elsewhere? My god, this is painful to watch,”

Sue laughed at Ben’s comment, and you joined in. Johnny shot the man a look, flipping him the bird that you were sure was being shot right back at him from behind your back.

Sue saddled up to your side seconds later, plucking the bouquet from your hands with a soft smile.

“I’ll put these in water for you and leave them upstairs,” she shot her eyes to Johnny, narrowing them. “Treat her well or I will cover for her when she drags your lifeless body back later tonight.”

Too busy laughing, you never even noticed Johnny’s eye roll toward his sister. The only thing you could comprehend as he pulled you into the awaiting elevator was the feeling of his fingers slipping into the empty spaces between yours, intertwining your hand with his.

It felt right. Too right for two people who should have never met one another.

The Regent was situated just a few blocks away from the Baxter Building, the perfect distance to walk straight there. You weren’t complaining, not with the way Johnny gripped your hand like he was afraid you’d pull it away, every so often tugging it gently so that your body fell into his,  arm brushing against his arm.

“We fought with Moleman–well, I guess he prefers to be called Harvey–right here,” he pointed out just a few blocks from the Baxter Building, gesturing toward the blocked off area right beside a small park. There were fences up around what looked like a giant hole in the ground with just the very top of a building sticking out of it, signs indicating ‘keep out’ to everyone that walked past. “He runs Subterranea, the whole civilization under New York.”

“There’s an entire city under this city?” you questioned, looking up at him in alarm.

“Oh yeah, you guys don’t have that?” he quirked an eyebrow toward you as you shook your head in response. “He stole the entire Pan Am building, sinking it down into the ground before we could stop him. Been years and they’re still working on what to do with it.”

You took a single glance around: 45th Street and Park Avenue. The familiar intersection made you smile, one that Johnny seemed to understand all too well. Taking a quick glance around to  ensure that there weren’t too many people watching, you slipped your hand from Johnny’s in order to tilt his head to look at where the building used to stand. With a single wave of your fingertips toward his temples, blue seeping into his eyes, you could see the moment they widened at the sight you were projecting to him.

“In my world, this was the site of the Avengers tower,” you could see the glamour you were showing him, but you knew it like the back of your hand. The tower that hung high above the skyline of the city, the shining ‘A’ that matched the one hanging from the belt of your suit. “It was Stark Tower, until Tony decided to fashion it into a base of operations for the team after the battle of New York.”

The vision faded, the traces of your magic leaving Johnny’s eyes, as they turned back to look at you. His hand found yours again without hesitation, fingers tangling with yours again as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him.

“How do you possibly get cooler and more interesting with every passing thing you tell me and show me? It’s not fair,”

Johnny filled every second of the walk with story after story. A diner on the corner that he’d rescued a little girl from during another fight in the city, and the way she’d hid behind her father shyly the second he’d dropped her back down on the ground. Another diner just a block away that he’d dragged Reed to after he’d locked himself in his lab for upwards of 48 hours, not having eaten a single thing to the point where Sue was concerned he’d just pass out on the floor in front of his chalkboard. The bakery that sat underneath a row of apartments that Johnny was convinced had the best pie in the world, but Ben still argued there wasn’t a single bakery in the world that could compare to Maisie’s over on Yancy Street.

Before you knew it, you were standing before The Regent. Elegant, sign shimmering and lighting up the darkened sidewalk before it. One single man stood at the door, surveying the area. With one look to Johnny, he nodded his head toward the door to grant him access.

Stepping into that room felt like entering an entirely new world. Light wooden floors that matched the light wood of the walls, which were decorated themselves with photographs upon photographs of couples and celebrities dancing and performing on the stage. The stage itself was beautiful, shining bright at the end of the room as the lights illuminated the band that was currently engrossed in some Elvis song that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. The walls were all draped with velvety red curtains from the ceiling to the floor, accenting the dimly lit room, dance floor, stage and bar in color. Couples, friends, groups all mingled about, dining at the tables elevated at the back of the room, mingling along the walls, and dancing together in front of the stage.

“Of everything you’ve dragged me to these last few months,” you spoke up, voice rising to be heard over the music as the band switched songs, playing a cover of River Deep - Mountain High now. “This is the most 60s feeling thing yet.”

“And that, sweetheart, is why I saved it for a proper date,” Johnny appeared in front of you, your hand still clasped in his, as he tugged you forward. “Come on!”

Your laughter rang through the room as Johnny pulled you into the throws of people, finding an open spot among the crowd on the floor.

He spun you, that smile never dropping from his lips as you twirled in circles. Each twirl left you dizzy as the song played on in the background, the groups of people around you clapping along to the beat from the band. It was inevitable that you’d eventually stumble in the heels you weren’t accustomed to. Johnny’s arm was there, like you somehow knew it would be, curling around your waist. He dipped you, cheekily pretending as if it was all meant to happen, before spinning you back up onto your heels and pulling you into his chest.

“Come on, I can’t have you tripping and falling for me just yet,” he teased, hands holding yours as he spun you out once again just to pull you right back in.

“You try dancing in heels!” you shot back at him, earning a bright laugh from the man still dancing you around in circles. “We never danced like this at Tony’s parties.”

“I thought you said he threw a lot of those,”

“Yeah, but they were more stand around, drink, and talk parties than dancing,” you took a single glance around the room, at every woman being danced around by their friends and their partners. Swishing skirts, some almost touching the floor, loosely hanging from their bodies. “Not that the dresses I was forced to wear would've allowed for dancing. Too tight fitting–the one had a slit almost the entire way up my thigh.”

Johnny’s hand tugged you in at that moment, your chest flush against his. His lips skimmed over the edge of your ear, voice husky as he whispered into it just loudly enough for you to hear.

“I need you to not give me a mental image of your 21st century clothing while we’re in public, honey,”

A laugh bubbled from your throat as you pulled back to see him fully. The ways his eyes had darkened just slightly, the blue of his eyes almost completely overtaken, had your stomach doing a flip. But it wasn’t enough to stop the slightly sadistic smile that overtook your lips.

“Why? It’s so much fun, seeing you all worked up,” you let your fingers touch his jaw gently, nails dragging down the expanse of his neck and to the small bit of skin just barely visible along his collarbone, before you pushed away from him. “Come on, let’s get drinks!”

You could just barely hear his groan of “You’re going to be the death of me,” behind you as he followed you diligently through the crowd, his hand finding the small of your back within seconds so that you were never quite far from him.

Seated on one of the barstools, sipping gingerly at the drink Johnny had procured for you, it was impossible not to watch Johnny. 

The way he animatedly retold a story about how they’d been invited to a fundraiser years ago in a dance hall, how he’d talked Ben into getting up onto the stage to dance. The way he so enthusiastically greeted those around the bar that did recognize him, as they slid in little comments about if you were the “mystery woman” that the papers had begun to pick up on over the last two months. He deflected them with ease, remembering many of those that said hello to him, asking such personal things about their families, their jobs, as if they were his best friends.

Your laughter spilled into your drink as the band played their own version of The Twist, and Johnny chose to demonstrate his moves directly in front of you. He smiled wide, eyes never leaving you, as he mouthed the words in your direction, following along with the dance every other person in the club was doing along with him.

“Johnny Storm: a superhero, an avid golfer, a lover of space, and now we can add dancer to that extensive list,” you teased, taking the final sip of your drink before leaving the empty glass on the counter behind you. “Do you frequent these dance halls a lot?”

“When I was a teenager I found my way here pretty often,” he answered easily as the song came to an end, the room cheering out and erupting in applause for the band. With one arm, he leaned against the counter beside you, looking up at you. “I wouldn't call myself a dancer, though. Just had enough practice to be semi-decent.”

“Practice, huh?” you questioned, just as the band started back up again. “How many girls have you taken dancing before?”

The band kicked back up, their next song already ready to go. You recognized it immediately: that same Frank Sinatra song that had played in the car through Long Island barely 24 hours prior. Johnny only smiled softly, standing out in front of you with his hand outstretched toward you.

“None. Promised myself that only one woman would ever have the pleasure of seeing me dance. Now, will you do me the honor?”

It wasn’t a line, not one of his usually charming, flirtatious lines. Not the way in which he said it: so genuinely, so vulnerably. You slipped your hand into his without a second thought.

Johnny guided you back out onto the dance floor, finding another open space among the couples around with ease. His arm slid around your waist, resting there as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You didn’t want to dwell on the fact that it really did feel so right, in a way you had never felt before.

His hand pressed firmly into your lower back, holding your body close to his. You could feel that unnatural heat that radiated off of his skin through the layers of clothing that adorned your body. One of your arms found its place around his shoulder, hand curled around the back of his neck and tangling just slightly with the hairs that laid there. Your other hand was clasped in his, taking in every bit of warmth that seeped from his palm into yours.

I fall in love too easily, I fall in love too fast. I fall in love too terribly hard for love to ever last.

“Can I ask you something?” you asked him quietly, nose just barely brushing along the edge of his jawline as you danced together, swayed back and forth across the floor with him.

“Anything,”

“You didn’t have to trust me that day in the park. You could’ve assumed I was a threat, taken me out. Instead, you took me in,” you closed your eyes, leaning in just slightly as your nose brushed over his jawline once again. “Then, you took it upon yourself to make me feel comfortable, to not let me feel alone in a universe that isn’t mine…why?”

“I mean, from the moment I saw you I thought you were pretty, but it was because I felt like I was looking at me,” Johnny’s answer was simple. No charm, no jokes, just the truth. “I saw myself for a moment, the me I was when we came home from space with powers. Confused, angry, terrified of what I had become. I didn’t know what to do. You looked so lost, so alone, and you continued to look that way every day. I didn’t…I didn’t want you to feel alone. I didn’t want you to feel like I did when I came home that day, when I felt like I had to lock myself away. It didn’t help that…I kind of fell for you along the way.”

Any hesitation in your heart, any thought in your brain still telling you that this was a terrible idea, that it could never work, melted away in that single second.

My heart should be well schooled ‘cause I've been fooled in the past. And still I fall in love too easily, I fall in love too fast.

“Can I ask you something?” he tacked on as your brain and heart still searched for a way to respond to him. All you could give him was a nod, one he could feel from where your skin touched his. “I’ve been flirting with you every day since we met. What made you finally say yes to a date?”

“Because I wasn’t saying yes to Jonathan Storm, the Human Torch, one of the four protectors of this Earth,” you told him simply, leaning back just slightly so that you could catch his gaze as you spoke, bodies still swaying back and forth to the swell of the violin. “I was saying yes to Johnny. The flame boy who decided to trust me. The guy that does the dumbest shit just to make his nephew laugh. The only one who’s made the pain of what I’ve lost lessen these last few months. I didn’t fall for all the bravado, or the charming lines, I just fell for him.”

Your confession was laid bare, as was his. He didn’t say a single word. Johnny simply smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to the crown of your head, before letting his eyes close and his forehead rest against yours. You followed suit, mirroring him, simply existing in the space within his arms.

My heart should be well schooled ‘cause I've been fooled in the past. And still I fall in love too easily, I fall in love too fast.

What felt like hours later, while also feeling like no time had passed at all, you found your hand clasped in Johnny’s once more. Roaming the streets of New York in the cool air of the night, a giddiness present in each of you that could only be compared to the feeling of pure childlike wonder and joy.

All you could think about was how right it felt, being with him. Having his hand in yours. Being in his arms. Universes separated you, but in this moment, you felt as if you had never belonged somewhere more than you did right now.

“Okay, okay,” Johnny forced out through his laughter, leaning into you as you turned another street corner, trying to find the next question to ask in the long line of questions you had been throwing back and forth. “Favorite fight that you had with the Avengers?”

“Oh god, I don’t know if I can answer that,” you responded easily with a laugh, shaking your head at the thought. “None of them were really fun, they all kind of left immense damage in their wake. One ended with me locked in a high security prison in the middle of the ocean for a short period of time, so, I guess that was fun.”

“That…that sounds like the opposite of fun,”

“Oh, it was. It sucked immensely,” he shoved his shoulder into yours for the comment. “Okay, my turn. Favorite memory with Reed?”

“When he asked me permission to marry Sue. I thought he was going to piss himself, I’ve never seen the man look so nervous,” Johnny laughed, tugging on your hand to bring you in closer to his side again. “Okay, how about your favorite thing you can do with your magic?”

Now that was a show instead of a tell question. Dropping his hand, you slid into the space in front of Johnny on the side walk, shuffling backwards against the pavement. He cocked an eyebrow as you shot him a tiny grin, before your hands at your sides began to glow in that familiar blue as your body lifted off of the grow by just a few feet, uncaring for anyone that could possibly see you in the area.

Johnny stopped in his tracks, dumbfounded as his wide eyes looked up at you. He sputtered for a moment, trying to find his words.

“Wait–you could fly this entire time, and you didn’t tell me?”

“You never asked!”

Johnny’s body ignited in flames, a sight you’d sparingly seen over your time in their world. From the chest down, every bit of him burned in those bright orange and red licks of fire as he, too, flew above the ground before you, back to being level with you once more.

“We could’ve been flying everywhere instead of driving!”

“Well, let’s just have some fun with it now,” you shot back with a wink, before propelling yourself upward. “Keep up, flame boy!”

The chill in the New York breeze was a familiar feeling, beating against your face as you propelled yourself up into the air, flying along the edge of the buildings. Johnny followed along right beside you, the heat of his flames fanning out over you and cancelling out the chill that night air brought with it.

His eyes never left yours as you spun around a corner of the building, propelling yourself further up into the air. You looked down, watching him with a smile as you hung there high above the buildings and the city of New York. Johnny joined you in seconds, hovering just in front of you. The clouds practically kissed your body, the city so far down below you both, leaving you alone together among the clouds.

You could see it, the glint in his eyes, the way they flickered down to your lips for just a second before glancing back up, pretending as if they’d never strayed away. He leaned in, and you let him for just a moment, before letting your body fall backward and freefall through the air back toward the city.

His laughter echoed through the sky as he flew down after you, following the sound of your own laughter. He saddled up to your side, flying down alongside you once again before you took a sudden turn, propelling yourself toward the rooftop of a building just barely in the distance.

Your feet touched down on the private rooftop moments later, magic dissipating from your fingertips as you landed, taking in a deep breath as the rush of flying left your body in one fell swoop. The rooftop garden you’d landed in was clearly one for a private residence, somewhere you probably shouldn’t have been, but you didn’t care. Not with the smell of the flowers invading your senses, the glint of the dim fairy lights strung around the roof bathing you in their light, and the view of the Baxter Building dead ahead.

Johnny’s feet touched the ground just moments after you, the sound of his shoes hitting the flooring alerting you. Spinning, he was standing just a few feet away, watching you with a little smile as he shook his head with laughter.

“You might be insane,”

“Sorry,” your giggles fell into the mix with his own laughter. “It’s been a minute since I’ve flown. I’ve missed it.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever flown with someone on a first date,” Johnny countered, taking just a few steps forward toward you. “Unless you count Shalla-Bal throwing me off her surfboard in space, but that wasn’t really a date.”

“Guess this was a first for both of us, then,”

You matched his steps, barely a few feet between the two of you now. Johnny didn’t make another step forward, though, didn’t close the space separating you. 

His Adam’s apple bobbed, his foot tapped against the ground, and his hands clearly didn’t know what to do with themselves.

“What’s wrong?” you asked gently, even though you could practically see the nerves rolling off of him. He laughed, shaking his head as he glanced to the ground for just a moment, before back to you.

“I…I’m kind of nervous, if you can believe it,”

You hummed, taking the initiative to step up into his space, barely a few inches separating the two of you now. Your eyes never left him.

“Why? I thought the charming Johnny Storm had been on a bunch of first dates?” you teased.

He laughed breathily, eyes darting to your lips for just a second.

“Not ones that mattered…not like you do,”

You barely let him finish his sentence before you curled your hands around the back of his neck, tugging him down to you and slotting your lips against his.

It was short, but poured every bit of passion into it that swarmed through your heart and your head. Your lips moved against his just slightly, still testing the waters as the heat that coursed through his skin and into yours felt as if it was sinking straight down into your bones. Johnny’s lips were soft, supple, a shaky breath leaving his lips and fanning out over yours the second that they touched for the first time. Something in your head clicked at the feeling, something that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, making you light-headed as your fingers just barely curled into the hair kissing the nape of his neck.

It was you that pulled away first. Barely a few inches away, the heat of his body still filling the air between you. His blue eyes bore down into your, wide and full of awe, lips slightly parted. A smile stretched across his face first, a matching once crawling across your own as you let your hands fully dive into his hair.

Johnny moved first, hands enveloping your waist and tugging you until your body was almost one with his, his mouth devouring yours in a kiss that had your knees almost crumbling to the ground.

Those heated hands swarmed your body desperate to touch every single expanse of you that they could in the way you were sure he’d thought about, in the way you never wanted to admit you sometimes dreamed about. Goosebumps crawled across your skin with every move of his hands, with every flex of his fingers and they pressed into you. His lips moved against yours like a starved man, slick with spit as your mouth opened to him, letting him invade every bit of you that you could, his tongue slipping just barely in and grazing over your bottom lip. A moan fell–from you or Johnny, neither of you knew–but the sound only spurred you both on.

His hands tightened their grip around your waist, holding him to you like a possession, one he couldn’t bear to lose. Claiming you. Your hand wound into his hair, tugging to elicit a groan from him, as you let your other trail down to rest over the patch of skin just barely visible under the single unbuttoned part of his shirt.

When your lips finally broke, soft pants filling the air between you, neither of you dared to look away. You couldn’t. It was like being in a trance, being pulled to the man in front of you almost magnetically. He leaned in, pressing a series of soft pecks against your lips, hands still flexing across your hips with each little peck that sent the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy.

“This is crazy, right?” he muttered out between kisses. You hummed in response, matching each kiss of his with your own through your grin, hands still carding through his hair.

“What, falling for each other when we come from completely different universes?”

“Exactly that,” he responded, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, before his forehead rested against yours. Those blue eyes bore down into yours, a soft smile over taking his kiss bitten lips again. “I don’t care much, though. Not when it just…feels so right.”

Your smile matched his in seconds as you leaned forward, stealing yet another kiss that flooded your body with warmth.

“Me too,”

Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t so crazy: falling for someone universes away from you. Even universes away, maybe Johnny Storm was always meant to be yours, always meant to be the missing piece to your incomplete puzzle.

❤︎

Johnny Storm had been called many things over the years by the media. A playboy, a womanizer, noncommittal. They were all wrong.

He preferred the term hopeless romantic, especially when it came to you.

Especially in this exact moment, leaning against the doorway of his bedroom in the early hours of the afternoon to see you sprawled out, tangled in the covers that were halfway off his bed. You looked as if you belonged there, and in Johnny’s eyes, you did. There was nowhere else that you belonged than right by his side.

Crossing the room quietly, trying not to disturb you, he gently placed the glass of water he’d ventured into the kitchen for down on the bedside table. He got distracted, as he typically did, at the sight of the polaroids splayed out across the wooden table. Taking them gingerly in his hands, terrified to ruin them, the smile that crossed his face couldn’t be wiped away.

You wrapped in his arms along the Coney Island beach in the early hours of the morning. One of just you, sprawled out in his bed in nothing but one of his button downs that fell down to your thighs. You on the couch, Franklin curled into your lap as you read him a book. His favorite one, sneakily taken by Sue late one night, wrapped in his arms on the balcony of the Baxter Building, lips pressed together through smiles.

He loved you. Johnny loved you more than he ever believed he could love someone in life. Multiverse be damned, you were it for him. You were meant to be his and his alone, and he was hell bent on loving you to the fullest extent every single day that he could, knowing someone could come along and rip you away at any moment.

But the universe had given him a year. An entire year to love you in every way that he could, to prove to you that you were it for him. He thanked whatever being out there in the multiverse he needed to every single day for the time he’d been given with you.

Johnny crawled onto the bed, tugging the comforter down from around your shoulders so he could fully see you. His pillow was clutched between your arms, the space in which he usually occupied. His white t-shirt, bearing the 4 logo that you’d made fun of him for months ago, covered your body, falling to the middle of your bare thighs.

He leaned in with a smile, pressing kiss after kiss to the bare skin of your arms he could see, trailing down to leave heat filled kisses to the bare skin of your thighs. He’d barely left three there before he could hear your giggle, body flipping over onto your back so that you could look down on him with a raised eyebrow and a grin.

“You left me,” you teased with a fake little pout. “I had nothing to hold but a pillow.”

“I’m so sorry, princess,” Johnny mumbled through his smirk, pressing yet another kiss into your thighs. His hands traveled up the sides of your legs, pushing his t-shirt with them as his kisses trailed further up the expanse of your skin. “How could I ever make it up to you?”

“I-I don’t know…round three doesn’t sound that bad,”

Johnny hummed through his laughter, mumbling a quiet “I love you” into your skin. He knew you could hear it, though, he knew that you knew it.

He reveled in every little noise that left your lips, every puff of air that was on the cusp of being a moan as he lavished every inch of your skin in a kiss.

“Look, you’re both adults so I try not to tell you what to do, but it’s the middle of the afternoon and–JESUS CHRIST, JOHNNY!”

He’d never sprang away so fast, throwing himself so hard to the side of the bed that he fell straight off of it to the floor with a thud. Your laughter filled the room as he crawled back up the side of the bed, your hand covering your mouth to conceal your laughter and the comforter pulled back up your legs.

Johnny immediately shot a glare at his sister, standing in the doorway of his room with her eyes covered by her hand.

“Sue, you have no one to blame but yourself for this–”

“You could have closed the door! I don’t need to see you doing all of that, my god,” Sue shook her head, peaking between her fingers to finally see that there was nothing happening, before dropping her hand. “Reed wants you in the lab for a few more tests, okay, he promised those would be the last ones this week. Just…look decent and meet us down there, okay?”

She grumbled the entire way out of the room, muttering comments about scarring her for life.

Johnny only rolled his eyes, throwing himself back onto the bed to hover above you. Nothing could ruin his mood, not when you looked up at him like that, smile bright and eyes full of adoration.

“That’s the third time this month she’s done that,” you managed to speak through giggles, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. “She’s going to kill us one of these days.”

Johnny only hummed, ignoring the comment. Instead, his fingers trailed down your neck, grasping the chain of the necklace that rested against your chest, a little charm of a Plumeria dangling off the end. His Christmas gift to you, one of the many you received as you were showered in them by his entire family. He pressed a kiss to the flower, looking up to you, only to see that same soft look in your eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered out, leaning in to capture your lips in his before you could speak back. He could feel you sigh into the feeling, your fingers dancing over his cheek lightly as you kissed him back just as softly.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back against his lips, before your hand rested on his chest with a little push. “But we’re going to go down to that lab because if we stay here another second, Sue is going to be walking in on a sight that she really doesn’t want to see.”

Johnny groaned, but relented. Falling back to his knees, his hands wound under the covers to your hips, pulling you up to your knees quickly on the bed. His mouth found yours in an instant, cementing another kiss there just for good measure.

“Round three after, right?”

It was your magic this time that pushed him, sending him tumbling back off the bed as your laughter rang out through the room.

“If you can behave, then maybe,”

Still clad in his t-shirt, having thrown on the old pair of ripped jeans you’d arrived in this universe in over a year ago, Johnny tucked you under his arm the second you stepped out of his bedroom, unable to go a second without touching you in any way shape or form. You never complained, even leaned into him as he pressed a kiss to your hairline.

“Lynne was able to get us reservations at that one restaurant you’ve been wanting to try for tonight, by the way,” he told you as you stepped into the elevator, hitting the button for Reed’s lab instantly. He grinned at the way your smile brightened, eyes turning to look up at him.

“Oh my god, that new one in Times Square?”

“That’s the one,” Johnny shot back. He let his arm fall from your shoulders, letting it wrap around your waist. His hand found the edge of his shirt, dipping beneath it so that his hand could press against the skin of your bare back. “Thinking maybe afterward we could go for a little fly around the city, sit down on the Brooklyn Bridge for a little while.”

Your hands cupped his cheeks almost instantly after he spoke, pulling him into a kiss. A feeling Johnny was sure he would never grow tired of, never get enough of.

“It’s a date,”

Stepping out into Reed’s lab, the entire team was gathered around. Reed was fussing over a machine, just as he normally was, with Sue trying desperately to calm him down. Ben was entertaining Franklin over on the couch, reading to him one of his favorite books.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” Reed called out, ignoring the doting of Johnny’s sister as he waved you over frantically. “I just want to run a few more tests for this week. I changed some of the parameters, I just want to make sure that we have all of our bases covered.”

You gave Johnny’s hand a quick squeeze before crossing the room, sliding into the same chair you always sat in for Reed’s tests, presenting your arm for the usual blood draw. Reed was convinced that it was necessary to test your blood, to do weekly scans of your body, to ensure that there were no lasting effects on your from staying in the wrong universe for an extended period of time like you had.

Johnny joined Ben and Franklin over on the couch, leaning down to leave a little kiss on his little nephew’s forehead, one that left the boy smiling and giggling.

“Johnny,” Franklin was barely able to say his name, stumbling over most of the letters, but he heard him loud and clear. He ruffled the boy's hair with a laugh, kneeling down in front of the couch.

“Hey buddy,” Johnny glanced over at Ben, at the smirk on the man’s rocky mouth, and raised an eyebrow in question. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Love just looks good on you, kid,” Ben teased.

Johnny shot a look over his shoulder, straight toward you. Smiling in that chair, laughing at something Sue said, as Reed drew the blood from your arm with a practiced ease for his various tests.

“Nah, it’s just loving her,” Johnny glanced back at Ben, a hint of a sheepish grin on his lips as he shrugged. “I don’t know how to describe it, man. She’s just…I think she’s just it.”

Ben smiled, that knowing one that he always had, as his rocky hand came down to pat Johnny’s back.

“I think so too. You deserve this, matchstick. You were practically made for each other,”

Johnny agreed. He was trying to decide mentally if one year was too soon to officially make your last name Storm like he had promised months ago.

The quiet, the lightheartedness that filled the lab, couldn’t stay forever. Not when the alarms across the room began to blare.

Every head shot up at once, turning to look down the length of the lab to the computers where the alarm was blaring. Reed shot to his feet, taking a step in front of Sue as you ripped the needle from your arm in seconds to join them.

“Johnny-”

“On it!”

He’d practically sprinted halfway down the lab at that point, pulling up the alarm system at the designated workstation. That same map that had foreshadowed your arrival blinked on the screen, the same blip that showed your arrival in Gramercy Park blinking on the screen–right on the Baxter Building.

“It’s the same readings as when she got here,” Johnny called out down the lab, eyes frantically darting back and forth between you and Reed. “The blip, though, it’s right here on the building-”

There was sound from right beside him, startling him. Johnny whipped around, little sparks of yellow and gold flashing in the air beside him.

He instantly took steps back, shuffling backward and away from the growing sparks until his legs hit the back of the couch. Ben stood somewhere behind him, holding Franklin protectively in his arms. Reed held onto Sue across the room from where Johnny stood, keeping her at his side, as you stepped up in front of them: eyes glowing, magic dancing at your finger tips.

Until those sparks of energy grew, larger and larger, until they formed the makings of a small circle. Johnny could hear the second your breath caught, that glow in your eyes fading and the magic at your fingertips vanishing in seconds as you took another step forward.

“O-Oh my god…”

The sparking circle grew, almost the size of an entire person, before it stabilized, and out of what Johnny could only assume was a portal stepped a man. Older, tired, short hair and the remnants of cuts along his face. Body draped in elegant robes of purple and yellow he’d never seen before. His eyes darted around the room, before they landed on you, and he let out the loudest sigh Johnny had ever heard.

“Oh, thank god-”

“WONG!”

You’d practically flown across the room and into the man’s arms. Wong hadn’t wasted a second, hugging you back just as tightly as you cried, holding onto the man for dear life.

Johnny froze: Wong. He’d heard that name before. You talked about him all the time. The Sorcerer Supreme, the man you were supposed to wait for before you performed the spell that had landed you here in the first place. Johnny felt his heart break at the realization. He could feel the eyes of his sister on him from across the room.

His time had finally run out. Home had finally come to take you back from him.

“When I tell you that you aren’t to touch the Book of Vishanti without me, it is not a suggestion,” Wong scolded, hands clasping your shoulders as you violently wiped your tears across the room. “I already had to deal with Stephen breaking into the restricted section years ago, I do not want a repeat of that again. Do you know how difficult it is to find your energy signature through the vast multiverse?”

“I know, I know,” you nodded your head, before shaking it back and forth. “No performing any spells from an ancient book without your supervision. I got it.”

Wong nodded once, before his eyes finally glanced over the rest of the room. They settled on Reed and Sue, Ben and Franklin, and finally on Johnny.

“Do I need to worry about-”

“No, no, they’re friends. They’re practically family,” you assured the man, turning and gesturing out to the room. “This is the Fantastic Four. They’re essentially the Avengers of their universe…”

Your words trailed off as you finally met Johnny’s eyes again. He could see it, the moment that the realization seemed to settle in over you like it already had for him, and he thought his heart was going to break all over again.

From the corner of his eyes, he could see the glance that Wong sent between both you and him. A knowing one, one that spoke volumes without having to speak at all. He sighed, the sound ringing through the otherwise quiet lab, as he squeezed your shoulder.

“Five minutes,” Wong told you gently, his gaze drifting back to Johnny for just a minute. “There’s no telling if your time here has done any damage to the time streams. We need to get you home…I can give you five minutes.”

You only nodded, tearing your eyes away from Johnny. There was no arguing.

He knew this day would come, even if selfishly he wished it never would.

His eyes never left you as you crossed the room, practically flying into Sue’s arms. Johnny felt as if his head was under water. He could see your lips moved, Sue’s lips moving, but he couldn’t hear a word either of you said. 

In his head, Johnny could guess what you were saying. A thank you for taking you in, for taking care of you, for all the times Sue had helped you dress for a date or taken you out into the city with her. He was sure Sue was thanking you for simply loving her little brother.

Reed pulled you into a tentative hug, short but still sweet. You didn’t exchange many words, but he could make out a “thank you” on his brother-in-law's lips.A thank you that simply encompassed everything, everything that he was sure Reed struggled to say.

Johnny saw your tears again when you stepped into Ben’s arms finally. A conversation that he was sure detailed the many early morning trips you’d made to Maisie’s together, or the late night talks that happened on the couch over drinks as some movie played on TV.

Franklin’s cries pierced the air, his hands making grabby motions toward you as he cried. You placed a single kiss to his head, walking away before you broke down.

Finally, you stood before him. Mascara running just slightly, tear stains littering your cheeks and down to your chin. You mustered the smallest of smiles that you could for him, albeit watery. Johnny tried to do the same, feeling the lump in his throat beginning to form.

“I thought I had three rules for you before you went home,” he managed to say, trying to swallow back the burning need to cry. You laughed, though the sound almost sounded like a sob, as you nodded your head.

“I’m leaving having accomplished two of those things. I guess that counts as a win,”

Johnny nodded, the beginnings of a sob almost bubbling out of his throat. Like two magnets pulled together, you fell into his arms. Head buried into his neck, Johnny’s one hand curled into your hair, tears slipping down his cheeks and soaking into the skin of the side of your head as your own tears soaked into his neck, your cries muffled by his skin.

“I love you,” he muttered into the side of your head, pressing kiss after kiss to your skin. “I don’t care. I love you. I love you more than anything.”

You pulled away, those red rimmed and watery eyes finding him, as you cupped his cheeks in your shaking hands.

“I love you too,” you whispered, stealing a kiss from his lips that took every bit of breath out of him. Your next words were whispered against his mouth. “This isn’t goodbye. I promise.”

Johnny managed a laugh, stealing another kiss as he gripped you as tightly as possible, hoping if he held on tight enough you wouldn’t slip away.

“What, you’re going to find a way to defy the multiverse to see me again? Abandon your home?”

“For you? Yeah,” you answer was short, meaningful, determined, definitive. Johnny believed every word. “I’ll see you again. And next time, I won’t have to leave. Because you’re my home, too.”

Johnny managed a smile, hoping it was as comforting as he wanted it to be, as he stole one last kiss. Not a goodbye, he wasn’t sure he could handle a goodbye. He wasn’t sure he could handle the idea of never seeing you again. This kiss was a promise. To what? He wasn’t sure. Maybe just a simple promise that he was yours.

“I’ll be counting the days,”

He couldn’t bear to look down at you again, afraid if he kissed you again he’d shove Wong back through that portal and find a way to hold you here forever. Johnny settled for a single kiss to your forehead, accented with the tears that were still running silently down his cheeks, before he let you go.

You slotted yourself back to Wong’s side, wiping at the tears that stained your cheeks. He placed a hand on your shoulder, and even Johnny could see how much it pained him to do this to you. He caught the slight flick of your hand, though, the slight burst of your magic, so small he wasn’t sure at first if he’d seen it correctly.

The room was silent as you and Wong stepped back through the glittering gold portal and onto the floor of the other side. Your eyes met his one last time, a watery smile crossing your lips, before it closed.

And in the blink of an eye, you were gone. Gone as if you’d never been there in the first place.

Franklin’s cries were still the only thing he could hear in the room, No one dared to speak, dared to break through the air, as Johnny’s eyes stayed locked on the last spot you had stood in.

“Johnny…”

He turned, tear filled eyes meeting with his family. The heartbroken look on Ben’s face, the conflicted look on Reed’s, and the absolute pity that shone through on Sue’s. She took a single step forward, but Johnny waved her off immediately, shaking his head as he wiped at his tears, forcing a smile.

“I-I’m fine. I just…I just need a minute,”

No one rushed after him, and he was thankful for it.

The entire elevator ride back up to his room was done in a daze, in a haze of emotions. His vision was blurry the entire time, but no more tears fell. He wasn’t sure he had more to cry.

Stepping into his room again, he felt like he could muster a few more tears. The bed was still unmade. The scent of your perfume, one you’d picked a few months ago with Sue, lingered in the air. Your clothes from the night before were strewn over a chair by his record player.

It was the only sign that you had, in fact, existed here in his universe. You weren’t a figment of his imagination.

Approaching his bed, wanting to bury himself in the lingering scent of you, his breath caught.

Lying there, on the unmade sheets, was a single flower. A single little Plumeria, remnants of blue magic dancing over and around its petals. Right below it? That same Polaroid Johnny loved so dearly.

He clutched it in his hands, willing himself to be back in the moment: holding you on the balcony that night, kissing you, telling you he loved you. As he did, your magic seeped across the bottom white edge of the photo, scrawling your handwriting across the bottom.

Unequivocally yours.

That, alone, was enough to bring a smile back to his lips.

Multiverse be damned: you were his. There was no one in this life or the next that Johnny Storm was convinced he could love more, just as there was no one that could love you the way he could.

In that moment, he knew for a fact he’d see you again. And next time, he was never letting you go.

[kittyflanders]

–ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴄɪʀᴄʟᴇꜱ

╰┈➤ pairing: Leon S. Kennedy (RE9) x fem!reader ╰┈➤ word count: 8.1K ╰┈➤ summary: Reader is an anxious, new nurse at Rhodes Hill with a horrible sense of direction. She's working a 16-hour shift when it all goes very wrong. Luckily for her, Leon Kennedy is there too. ╰┈➤ w a r n i n g s: 18+, strangers to lovers ig, SMUT, female reader, no use of y/n, no mention of reader's appearance but reader has a terrible sense of direction and is very shy/anxious, mentions of panic and anxiety attacks, body horror, zombies, blood, gore, violence, a few time skips, alcohol mention, excessive one liners, making out/kissing, one pet name, handjobs, fingering, p in v, missionary. ╰┈➤ a/n: baby's first leon fic after literal decades of having a big sticky crush on him!!! BE GENTLE!!! i tried not to mess with the canon events of re9 too much, but if i did, it's all for the sake of reader and leon eventually being together. as always, no AI was used in this and my works are NOT to be used to train ai, chatbots, etc. banners by @/saradika-graphics, @/adornedwithlight and @/uzmacchiato

↓ fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

You're on hour thirteen of a sixteen-hour shift and your heart is racing, fluttering within your chest at a dangerous rate. A cold, antiseptic smell pervades your nostrils, a smell that you'd previously gotten used to in the three months you'd been working at Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center. Now, though, you are suddenly focusing on the clinical odor again. But it's not just that. You're acutely aware of everything else; every little twang and creak makes your muscles tense up, and you cower further into the corner you've tucked yourself into.

As you crouch between two rolling carts, hugging your knees, you replay what you saw. 

Code Six had blared over the speakers, and it was like a blanket of chaos and trepidation settled over the center in an instant. You'd run back down the hallway to find someone—anyone. You were still new, and even though the code calls had been gone over when you were first hired, you were blanking on protocol. 

Fear does that. 

You weren't sure what had triggered the alarm, but you knew it couldn't be anything good. When you rounded the corner, one of the doctors —Dr. Hart—was doing what could only be described as eating one of the new assistants. His pale face was buried in her bloody chest cavity, and the most horrible, wet, squelching sounds filled the empty hallway as he took bites out of her, digging into her insides with his bare hands like he was trying to find a prize in a cereal box.

It could've been you. It easily could've been you. 

Keeping your eyes on the grisly sight before you, you'd backed up, one careful step at a time, feeling blindly along the wall for a handle. Finally, after what felt like ages, the cool metal bumped into your palm, and you almost breathed a sigh of relief. Keeping your eyes on the dark hallway, you pushed the door open and ducked inside. 

But now, you're alone.

The realization hits your chest like a semi, and the crushing weight punches the air out of your lungs. You'd backed yourself into a literal corner, and there was nowhere to go from here. You didn't even know where you were. Everything looked the same in this stupid facility; you had a hard enough time finding rooms when you were of sound mind. Just this morning, you somehow ended up in the first-floor laundry room when trying to find one of the supply closets to do a restock. 

Hopeless. 

You adjust your body nervously; your shoulder catches the pole of one of the rolling trays in just the right way, sending it clattering to the floor. Metal tools, syringes, and other supplies spew across the white tile. The sound is deafening. 

Fuck.

It only takes a minute. The sound of a body slamming against the window jerks you from your petrified and anticipatory thoughts. A deep, guttural gargling muffled by a thin pane of frosted glass and wood fills your ears, and you look up to see the blurry outline of Dr. Hart, slamming himself against the door over and over again. His face is smeared with the assistant's blood, and it transfers onto the glass with every hit. You press your back against the wall, trying to shrink into it and disappear. 

"….go away, go away, go away…." you whisper, panic making your voice quiver.

He doesn't. If anything, he doubles down on his efforts and hurls his body against the door again, groaning loudly. 

"GO AWAAAAAAAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!" Hot tears stream down your cheeks.

Two heavy gunshots suddenly ring out, and Dr. Hart slides away from the window, leaving a slick, messy streak of blood across the glass. The silence that follows is only disrupted by your ragged, terrified breaths. The door opens with a slow creak, and in response, you wrap your arms around your knees and tighten every muscle in your body, prepping for an oncoming demise. With a pathetic sniffle, you bury your head between your knees and hold your breath. Maybe if you don't move, if you don't breathe, they won't see you.

"Hey." A deep, gravelly voice—but a coherent one. One you don't recognize.

A black, tactical-looking boot steps closer to you, and you flinch, wrapping your arms somehow tighter around your shins. 

"Easy." 

You can't respond. Fear riddles your system, and you are frozen in place like a deer in the headlights of a quickly oncoming car. Quivering. Digging your nails into the flesh of your calves. Teeth chattering against each other even as snot drips from your nose. 

"Look at me… it's okay." 

Something in his voice pulls you from your terrified stupor; you lift your big, wet eyes to him, and open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He looks at you. Hard. You look back at him and wipe your tear-stained cheeks with the backs of your hands. 

"I'm Leon Kennedy. DSO. It's okay."

DSO…. your brain stutters on the thought. Why's he here?

The older man stands above you, gun lowered at his side. His dark blonde hair has fine streaks of grey in the angled cut. Age wrinkles his features slightly, but there's a determined spark in his blue eyes as he looks at you, scanning your body meticulously. He's handsome. Looks like he knows what he's doing — like he's been here before, but you don't recognize him. You don't know him in the slightest, but a blanket of safety settles over you as he approaches you.

"You okay? You get bit anywhere?"

You look yourself over apprehensively, as though you weren't sure, as though you don't remember what happened. "N-no… I… I ran. Dr. Hart… he… ate…" 

"Yeah. Looks like he has terrible bedside manner," he replies, cutting you off. "Where's the closest exit?"

"I… don't actually know." 

Leon furrows his brow before looking away from you, backing up to gaze down the dark hallway. He pauses to listen before stepping back to you. He looks at your badge, then brings his gaze back up to yours. "You work here."

"Yeah. I've only been here three months… I… I still use sticky notes to find everything…"

"Right. Guess we're learning together."

He takes one hand from his gun and extends it towards you, and twitches his fingers inward, signaling for you to use him as leverage to stand up. 

You hesitate. He does it again and nods his head once. You're on the verge of tears again, and you know he sees it, so he takes another step closer to you. Reluctantly, you unlatch one of your hands from your shin and lift it. A terrible, gut-wrenching groan echoes from down the hallway, and your attention snaps to it. His focus doesn't falter, though; it stays locked on you.

The groaning sounds closer, and Leon's fingers close around your hand, pulling you up firmly. The feeling of his warmth also pulls your attention away from the ever-approaching sound. The strength with which he does it is too much for your trembling knees, and you stumble towards him. Leon reacts—large hands grip your shoulders, steadying you. It's then that you see he can feel just how much you're actually shaking, and he steadies you, holding the meat of your shoulder, giving you something to shake against. For a moment, you're stuck looking into his bright, almost fervent eyes.

It's almost like he feels it, and the very corner of his mouth tweaks upwards slightly. "You're okay. Stay next to me."

You nod and wipe your snot and tears away on your sleeve. Leon's hand drops away from your shoulders slowly, hands trailing down your arm as he moves out the open door. You, not wanting to be separated from him for even a minute, hurry after him into the hallway. It's silent. The raspy groaning has faded behind you; whatever it was, it went a different way. 

Admittedly, you're glad that you have someone else to guide you. Everything looks the same. Leon moves in a precise, tactical way, clearing all the corners before urging you forward, and eventually, you gain some confidence in where you're going; something in your mind must've triggered recognition. 

You haven't taken but three steps to the left when Leon's hand grips the back of your lab coat, yanking you back beside him. "We've gone that way."

Your gaze drifts down the hallway, then back to him. Confidence draining from your voice, you whimper uncertainly. "No?"

He breathes a sigh. "I'm starting to see how you get lost every day."

"B-but, I think… I remember that hallway."

"Yeah," he replies, steering you firmly to his left, but somehow still gently. "…so do I. Which is why we aren't going down it again. C'mon."

The hallway you turn down instead is illuminated and reeks of iron and that same antiseptic smell from before. Leon pauses to listen, and so do you. 

An odd, disconcerting rhythm fills the hallway. 

Slap-drag, slap-drag. 

It echoes against the walls. It sounds wet and weighted, and sounds like it's coming closer. A few seconds pass, and a figure emerges, rounding the corner of the next corridor, moving heavily and lopsided, almost lurching forward instead of walking. She's wearing blood-smeared scrubs and looks seriously wounded. It doesn't take long for you to realize that there's more blood than there should be. The gait is the same as Dr. Hart's was as he lunged at the assistant. Wrong. She's missing an arm from the elbow down, muscles and tendons hanging in limp ribbons, and the source of the off-putting sound is revealed; she's dragging herself and the mangled limb along the wall, an instinctive action of steadying herself. 

"Don't look at her fa—"

It's too late. His voice penetrates your brain a second too late. You've already looked at her features, and fearful recognition contorts yours. Though the bottom half of it is covered in blood, jaw hanging off to the side like it had been forcefully broken that way, you immediately realize who you're looking at. 

"O-oh my god," you breathe, still whispering. "I know her. That's Ella, sh-she's an RN like me." 

As though the utterance of her name triggered something—of whatever was left in her infected, addled brain— her head snaps up towards you two. Clouded, milky eyes dart in your direction, and a wet, gurgling moan drops from her mouth as she lurches forward. A little too quickly. 

"Looks like her shift is over." He says, low, raising his gun. 

You grip Leon's shoulder tightly, lips popping apart in a silent gasp. You want to tell him to stop, that she's a good person, but as he aims his gun and sets his shoulders, nothing comes out. You, regrettably, know what comes next. Your gaze drops to the floor, your head resting against his shoulder. The feeling is more pacifying than he probably knows, but as the sound of a single shot rings out, you still shake uncontrollably. 

BANG

Your entire body flinches, and your ears ring like bells. You bury your face in the dark leather, inhaling the smell of it and him. Tears well up in your eyes. She was your coworker. She was sweet and kind. And now she was dead. 

"Come on, we have to keep moving." 

The silence hangs heavy between you two, and Leon shifts his shoulders as he moves, ducking around another corner. You cast one final glance at the blood-spattered corpse of your coworker; there's a messy, gaping hole right between her clouded eyes. You run after him, your shoes pattering against the linoleum. Your eyes fall to his backside as he walks, and you take note of the hand axe that is strapped to his lower back. Somewhere, deep in your brain, you take note of the curve of his back and the muscle of his ass, too. 

"Leon?" You ask. 

He slows his gait slightly, cocking his head to the side to listen to you.

"There's a service elevator somewhere. The janitors use it." 

He smirks ever so slightly. "Somewhere is helpful." 

Your brows pinch together, insecure, and you wring your hands nervously, feeling useless. "I-I'm sorry."

He notices this and pivots, angling his body towards you. One hand comes down on your shoulder, giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze. "Relax." 

Leon turns back around, clearing the corner again. 

By the time you hear the gurgling behind you, it's too late. Someone's hands latch onto your shoulders, yanking you sloppily backwards away from the corner. You let out a deafening scream, struggling forward, trying to keep your exposed neck away from the infected's mouth. You can't even see who it is, but maybe that's for the better. Leon pivots, fast as lightning, and aims his gun. He moves back and forth with you, trying to get a clear shot. He exhales a frustrated, steadying breath. 

Your screams are constant as you try to dislodge your attacker. Their hands clamp down on you tighter, pulling you ferociously. Your arms flail forward, reaching for Leon desperately, and his fingers wrap around your wrist, acting as an anchor. A shot fires. Your ears start ringing again. Another shot, and finally, the grasp on your shoulders starts to fall away. Not fast enough, because Leon pulls you against him hard, letting the zombie fall forward at your feet with a sickening thud. 

The warm, hard planes of his muscled chest through his shirt are the most comforting things you've felt all night. At first, you don't even realize you're moving up his body, wrapping your hands around his neck. It's wholly driven by instinct and a misplaced sense of closeness with him—you're responding to your life being saved for a third time. And maybe the fact that he's really handsome. Maybe.

You stand on your tiptoes, and press your mouth against his. Though he doesn't respond right away, his lips are warm, and his stubble prickles against your chin, sending a chill down your spine. You lean into the kiss, and feel them twitch forward, brushing against yours with an intimate closeness—a whispering note of a man who wants to indulge in kissing you back—before he wraps an arm around your waist from behind, and pulls you gently backwards. The action is intimate, but there's another intention buried underneath. 

"Hold that thought," he says, low and raspy. There's a promise in his tone, and it makes your stomach muscles clench harder with want. You want to shake your head and go back for seconds, but the way that his forehead wrinkles with concern halts you. "Your arm," he says then, looking down at your left. "Let me see it." 

"Huh?"

You look down at your arm then, and all the warmth drains from your face. Just below the shoulder, there's a large, blackish blood stain tainting the stark white of your lab coat. Your stomach sinks with fear; you aren't sure if it's your blood that's seeping through, and the thought petrifies you. For a moment, you're frozen. Leon reaches for you, but before his hand gets to you, you snap back, swallowing hard.

What would you do if you had been bitten? Your brain conjures up the worst possible images it can. Torn, throbbing skin. Skin separating from muscle. Infected, bursting pustules. Sickly black veins spidering up and down your arm. 

"Sh-should I take everything off? Wha-what do I do?" The question is genuine. Your fingers close around the bottom hem of your sweater and thermal shirt underneath, lifting them up just enough to expose your stomach. Leon's blue eyes flick down to the skin for a moment, then back up to your face. 

He shakes his head reassuringly. "Lift your sleeve." 

You drop the clothing back down your stomach and hesitate again, not quite ready to find out if you'd been bitten. You roll your lips inward and bite down, focusing on the dull pain the action brings instead of what's about to be revealed.

Your fingers close around the edge of your lab coat sleeve, pulling it slowly up your arm. The fabric gathers and tightens around your bicep, but eventually, the spot where the bite should be is revealed. There's redness, but no broken skin. The infected hadn't bitten hard enough to puncture all the layers, and you're suddenly thankful that it was a freezing, raining night. Besides that, the center was always kept frigidly cold, anyway. You'd chosen to dress warmly that night, and it had possibly just saved your life. Again. At this point, it's becoming a problem, and you're altogether embarrassed by it. 

Leon is perceptive. You can tell that much just from the concerned, dialed-in way he looks at you. He can read you like an open book. 

Embarrassing. 

"C'mon. Stay close." Leon looks down at his left palm for a second, and you strain to see what he's looking at, but he quickly closes his fist tightly. As he begins moving forward again, he talks. But not to you.

"Sherry," he says suddenly, replying to something you didn't hear. "Yeah. Thanks for that."

A beat. "He must've triggered an outbreak. The center is overrun with infected staff. I found a survivor." Another pause. You craned your neck to see if he was talking into a radio, but saw nothing. It must be an earpiece. He did say he was DSO; they wouldn't send their agents in unmiked. "She's fine."

He looks back at you for a fleeting second before returning forward, his gun aimed at the oncoming hallway. Leon motions for you to stay close.

"Do me a favor, would you?" 

A pause. The only sound is the steady steps of both of your feet as you move down the hall.

"Send another agent to pull her out. I'll head to the main exit now, but I don't want her getting hurt." The statement was weighted, and though he wasn't begging with this Sherry woman, you could tell it was a plea. A plea to save her, because I couldn't save the others. Just by looking at him, you could tell he'd had a long career of as many defeats, of heartbreaks, and failures as he had triumphs.

Your chest seized for three reasons: one, he didn't want you getting hurt, which was incredibly endearing. Two, he was going to stay? That thought wasn't as appealing and made your stomach roil with anxiety. The third was more insecurity-driven; you were probably slowing him down. 

Several minutes pass without either of you saying much. His steps are hurried, and you're constantly picking up your own pace to keep up with him. 

Should I apologize?

His voice shatters your thoughts; he's asking for an ETA and confirming details that sound muddled to you. You're exhausted from the repeated adrenaline dumps. As you exit into a larger hallway, Leon scans the area before turning to you. 

"Listen. The agent will take you to the nearest hospital..." 

"Mercy General," you finish, on autopilot. 

He nods, agreeing. "Once you're cleared…"

Leon rounds a corner, and you genuinely do recognize this area. It's the entrance. You heave a breath. 

"…you can go home."

Home, you think. Home, where your bed and cozy blankets are, and where infected staff members aren't. Home, where you can schedule appropriate and needed therapy sessions for what you've just experienced. Home, though… where Leon won't be. 

"Yeah," you murmur, a very obvious melange of relief and disappointment. Leon looks at you. Hard. As he did before, but this time, there's something heavier in his ocean-blue gaze. Something you want to ask about, something you want to reach in and pull out. Instead, he gives your upper arm a comforting squeeze and moves past you to pull the front door open in one fluid motion.

His honey-thick voice mixed with the sound of the rain outside is heavenly. "You'll be okay. The only thing you should be worrying about right now is what you're having for dinner." 

You offer him a half-smile, even though your heart isn't in it. He urges you out into the rain. "C'mon. I'll walk you to the car." 

As you begin descending the steps, he pulls the door shut behind him—a safety precaution, no doubt. He's not letting anything inside out. 

"This is Agent Donovan."

You shake his hand, politely. He opens the back door, and with a final look to Leon, you slip inside. The inside of the agent's car is warm and dry; a stark contrast from the outside. You immediately scoot over to the window and press your nose against it. Silhouetted against the massive structure of the care center and the rain, Leon talks with the other agent for a moment. He pats his shoulder hard before walking back inside Rhodes Hill like it's just another day at the office, and you imagine, for him, it is. 

The driver's side door opens and the man slides in, pulling the door shut with him. 

"I'll be taking you to Mercy General," the agent starts, his voice curt and professional. He's not as warm as Leon was. "Buckled in?" 

You make eye contact and nod as you secure yourself with a click.

The ride is filled with a practiced professional quietness. He knows you probably don't want to talk about it, and he wouldn't be at liberty to answer any of your questions. Eventually, you zone out to the sound of the rain and thwip thwipof the wiper blades. 

The rest of the ride was a blur, and so was actually getting inside the hospital. The Agent did most of the talking, and his words were met with lots of nodding—looked like they expected you. 

From one fluorescent prison to another… 

"Ma'am?" 

You blink, and focus on the DSO agent before turning to the nurse. "Sorry. What?" 

"Your ID. I need to see some identification."

Your hand moves to retrieve your ID, but you remember with a wave of panic—all your belongings are back at Rhodes Hill. As you pat your coat pockets frantically, anxious thoughts of how you'll get home fill your mind. Thankfully, your keys jingle in the right one, and the weight of your phone flops against the pocket on your left. You heave a sigh of relief.

You reach for the Rhodes Hill badge at your breast pocket and pull it forward on the reel. "This is all I've got, unfortunately. Everything is back at the care center." 

The nurse looks at the badge, nods, and jots down your name. "Follow me."

"I'll wait for you in the car." 

"Thank you," you reply before heading after the nurse.

~

Three and a half hours later, you're telling Agent Donovan to have a good night, and unlocking the door to your apartment, which is just outside of Wrenwood city limits. 

At the hospital, they decontaminated you with a freezing chemical shower. Took a staggering amount of blood. Ran tests. Concluded that you weren't infected in any way, shape, or form, and sent you on your way with a stack of discharge papers and a number to call if any peculiar symptoms started to manifest within the next few days. 

Spoiler alert: they don't.

Instead of suffering from biohazard exposure symptoms, the next few days were spent in your pajamas, scouring job sites and calling facilities in an attempt to find a new job because it's safe to say that you won't be going back to Rhodes Hill. The nightmares are vivid, though, and horrifying. They wake you up every night. Definitely something that requires some good, old, outpatient therapy.

Around 5:00 PM on a Friday, your phone rings. You run from the kitchen to the living room and lean over the coffee table, looking at the illuminated screen. It's a number you don't have saved as a contact, one you don't recognize. Thinking it might be a possible lead on employment, you slide your thumb across the screen and bring the phone to your ear. "Hello?" 

"Hey," a gravelly, warm voice says. "How you holdin' up?" 

"Leon," you breathe, recognizing the tone immediately. His name tastes sweet on your tongue, like honeycomb, and you hope that he can't hear the desperation in your voice. "I'm… okay. How are you?" 

A chuckle. "I've had worse days."

"I'll bet you have." 

You don't even question how he got your number yet, and instead plop down on the sofa and lean your head back. "I'm so glad you're calling me." You pause to wrinkle your nose in a cringe, realizing how pitifully desperate that sounds. "I mean, I'm glad you're okay. I was worried." 

The conversation lulls, and Leon picks up the slack by abruptly asking if you want to grab a drink tonight. Your stomach does a flip, and you pace yourself, taking a moment to answer before agreeing. 

You give him the address of a small but cozy bar near your place, on Juniper Street. After agreeing on a time, you hang up and let the phone drop from your hand like it weighs a million pounds. The butterflies in your chest are beating their wings against your ribcage, and you kick your feet excitedly. There's nothing that said this was a date or anything like it, but you can't help but jitter at the concept of seeing Leon again. Better yet, seeing him in an environment where you both aren't, quite literally, fighting for your lives.

~

"You're already here," he says, palming the middle of your back. It's a polite move to go for the mid-back, but the size and warmth of his palm feels deeply intimate to you. "I hope I'm worth waiting for."

You swivel the stool to meet him, your eyes glimmering. You want to tell him that you would've waited all night to see his face again, but again… the desperation is embarrassing. "It's okay, I haven't been here long." 

You follow him as he moves to your side, settling onto the stool, his movements heavy with fatigue.

The bartender comes back over, rubbing a white cloth over the side of a glass. "What can I get you two?" 

Instinctively, you look to Leon. 

"Bourbon." 

The bartender turns to you, expectantly. "And you?" 

"I'll have the same. Top shelf stuff. I'm paying." 

Your eyes flit to Leon; his brows are high on his forehead, and the smallest smirk plays over his lips. "You're paying, huh? I'll have to fight you on that later."

Later, you think, aroused. You wave the comment away and rest your head in your hand. "As a thank you… y'know, for saving my life, what, three times?" 

Leon shifts his neck. "All part of the job." 

"You know… I was thinking. How'd you get my number?" 

He looks off to the side before catching your gaze again. "Had a friend do a little digging on Rhodes Hill staff. Had to follow up, make sure you were okay." 

You don't have to be a genius to hear how falsely uninterested that sounds. You hold back a smile. "Oh, is that what this is—just following up?" 

"Could be." 

"Could be?" 

He barely nods, but you pick up on it. Your body unconsciously leans forward slightly, bringing yourself a centimeter closer to him. His usually dry wit is laced with a tease, almost like he was leaving the true intention of this meetup to you. Fuck. Leon's eyes hold yours with an iron grip, and the butterflies hammer away at your ribs again. He's so good at it. All of it. 

The bartender returns with your glasses and sets them carefully in front of you. The deep amber liquid sways inside the ornate, crystal glasses. "Enjoy."

You take your glass first, clink it against the side of Leon's and take an embarrassingly large sip, eager to let the bourbon numb the noise in your head. After swallowing, you look at him with a sheepish glance and dab the corners of your mouth with your fingertip. "I guess you're handling this better than me." 

"Yeah, well, that wasn't my first rodeo." Leon reaches for his glass, but doesn't lift it yet; he just swirls the amber liquid around in the bottom of the glass. You wonder when 'his first rodeo' was and debate asking about it. 

Instead, you take another sip, savouring the burning feeling. For a moment, neither of you says anything, opting to just stare at each other, studying every inch of each other's faces. You passively wonder what he looked like younger—you can still see that bright glimmer of youth in his tired eyes—but quickly decide that the age looks really good on him. You'd always had a penchant for older men, anyway. 

"So. Is it a normal trauma response to kiss someone in the middle of a bio-engineered outbreak, or should I apologize for whatever happened back at the center?" 

For a few seconds more, Leon doesn't say anything. The stoic DSO agent seems to falter, but the weakness is quickly replaced with a deep, vibrating chuckle from him. You relax against the edge of the bar, running your finger along the rim of your glass. 

"I gotta' be honest with you. Most people scream and run. Kissing is definitely taking initiative." 

After a sip, he sets his glass back down on the table. The little thud sound is so mundane, but it's comforting after hearing nothing but gunshots and inhuman screams and gurgles. 

"As for the second part of that, no." 

"No?" 

He shakes his head once. "No. I'm not a guy who's gonna' make a woman apologize to me. Especially not for kissing me." 

"Such a gentleman." 

He shrugs.

You think for a moment. Chew on the inside of your cheek, and finally, blurt out what's on your mind.

"I think you called me because you couldn't stop thinking about me."

"Is it that obvious?" He laughs, and there's a barely detectable shiver of nervousness between his breaths. "I guess I'm not as subtle as I thought." 

He finally takes a bigger drink. You watch as his Adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows. Before you realize it's happening, you're leaning forward again, bracing yourself on his thigh, just above his knee. Leon looks down at your hand, almost surprised. Darts his eyes back up to you. 

"Feelin' that bourbon, huh?" 

"Shut up," you snap, though there's no malice in it. "I'm fine." 

"You are." 

Your brows fly up on your forehead, pupils dilating with adoration. Did he just call you fine? God, what a dork. A very handsome dork. 

"Are you flirting with me, Mr. Kennedy?"

The alcohol made you brazen, clearly. 

"Is it working?" 

You huff out a breath and bring your finger up between you two, waving it slightly. "Careful, I might kiss you again if you keep it up." 

"Oh no, not another one." He takes a large, controlled sip of his drink, looking at you over the rim.

You make a face at him that makes him chuckle as soon as he puts his glass down.

Any other time, a guy like Leon would've made you roll your eyes. The one-liners, the corniness, the self-assured attitude that conceals a genuinely awkward persona. Your eyes glaze over as they fall to his lips, blatantly daydreaming about what they'd feel like pressed against yours. What was it about him that defied all that? Trauma bonding? His painfully good looks? 

"Stay with me, sweetheart" he says suddenly. 

His words yank you back to reality, your eyes refocusing on his face, and your ears turn back on. A couple is laughing a few stools down, and the chatter of the rest of the patrons fills your personal bubble. As much as you don't want to, you look around you. Nobody is aware of you two, not even the bartender, who is wiping down the bar a few inches away. You turn your attention back to Leon, and swallow hard. 

"I held that thought, by the way." 

Leon looks like he's about to ask what you meant, but you don't let him get the words out. You bridge the gap until your ass lifts off the stool, climbing your hands up both his thighs. With your mouth against his, your lips closing around his bottom lip, tasting faintly of bourbon. The stool's legs tip forward, and Leon feels this, steadying you, gently leveling you back out. It breaks the kiss, but Leon doesn't pull away as he did at the Center. Instead, he lingers in your space, eyes sweeping over your face. 

"Oh," he breathes against your mouth. "That thought."

For a minute, he stays like that. Just existing, breathing in your breaths and exhaling his own into your mouth. You suck in a deep breath, like you were pulling his essence from his lungs. You kiss him again, open-mouthed, and let your tongue graze his. You feel him set himself, withholding something. You pull back. Your brows furrow, your eyes narrowing fractionally. 

"I know my timing is as bad as my sense of direction, but… but you're going to hurt my feelings if you stop kissing me again… that's twice now."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the bartender moving away from your area, a smirk on his face. Leon responds by standing up. Instead of doing what your insecurity tells you he's going to do, he bends down and whispers, his breath hot in your ear. "Not to sound cliché, but… your place, or mine?" 

Like he did when he first found you, his hand extends to yours, asking you to take it. This time, you do, with much less hesitation. Naturally, because the only threat around you is having an audience. 

There's a newfound urgency in Leon's gait as he walks you through the bar and outside.

As soon as the cool night air hits your face, you turn to him, almost sheepishly. "Wherever we decide, you'll have to take me there. I walked. My place is just down the street." 

"You walked? And didn't get lost?" 

Your head snaps in his direction, and your fist lifts to punch him lightly in the arm. "It's a straight shot, not a confusing maze of hallways that all look the same." 

He chuckles before leading you to the passenger side of the sleek, black Porsche that's parked at the sidewalk. "Yours, then. Easy access." 

Without another word, he reaches in the pocket of his dark jacket and unlocks it, pulling open the door with his free hand. The inside is as sleek as the outside, and smells like him. Clean, but with a hint of an expensive cologne. 

When Leon joins you, you straighten up, your hands in your lap. He starts the car wordlessly, the engine purring. Instead of returning his right hand to his steering wheel as he drives, it glides through the air until it comes to yours, in your lap. His warm fingertips graze your nails, then slide upwards to your knuckles. He brushes across them, and an electric shiver dances up your spine. You can do little to hide it, and as soon as you straighten up, Leon notices it out of the corner of his eye. Smirks again. He glides his hand to your thigh, his thumb massaging circles on the outside of it. 

Your head hits the cushion of the headrest. "Leon…" you whimper. Your stomach is tightening, and a telling warmth is settling between your legs, but the scenery flying by the window demands your attention. 

"What?" His hand snakes further in between your thighs, the tips of his fingers squishing between the soft flesh.

"M-my apartment…" You breathe out a sigh. "…right there. On your left."

~ 

Leon barely gets through the door of your apartment before you're yanking him in by his belt and kissing him again. You kiss him with something that breathes hunger and impatience, something that demands sating. The undisclosed tension between you two has finally bubbled over like a forgotten pot of water on the stove. You're thankful that this time, he doesn't push you back and instead leans into the kiss, his hands on your waist. You take the initiative to jump slightly, hoisting yourself up into his arms. 

Leon catches you effortlessly, the broad muscles in his arms barely straining with the addition of your weight. It nearly chokes a breath from your lungs, feeling the unbridled strength around you. Keeping the kiss going, and even deepening it, you wrap your legs around his waist, feeling the core of his stomach clench against your hot center. He pins your back against the front door.

He breaks the kiss to murmur against the column of your neck. "You know…"

You reach down, yanking his face back to yours. "You talk so much." 

He lets out an awkward chuckle, like he's uneasy, and like you've just embarrassed him. Backpedaling, you pepper short, hot kisses along the seam of his lips. "I like it. I like your voice, you can talk me through it, I just…" Another kiss.

Leon's mouth captures yours in a searing kiss, his tongue sweeping along your bottom lip and the inside of your mouth with a precise hunger that makes your core clench violently. "Who's talking now? Huh?" 

"Smart ass." 

He laughs through his nose, the corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk that de-ages him by twenty or so years. It's a smirk of a twenty-something guy, full of cum and confidence, that's about to get the big release. The look in his ice-blue eyes sends an electric shockwave down your spine. 

"Leoooon," you whimper, bouncing your body impatiently against his.

"Alright, alright." He says, setting you down thoughtfully. The lack of contact is unwelcome, but you know it's because you need to move this away from the door and into the bedroom—somewhere he doesn't know. Somewhere you need to show him. 

Your grip tightens on his hand, pulling him down the hall like an excited child. The room at the end of the hall is dark, save for the yellow city light that's filtering in from the window. You crush your lips against his again, inhaling a deep breath of him. The action pushes him against your dresser, rattling the items on top of it. Something feels like it snaps in Leon; a rubber band that was pulled too taut. He grips your face in his hands, caging you in, and groans into your mouth. He bends slightly, grabbing the hem of your dress, and pulls it ceremoniously up your body, until he gets to your breasts. His hands cup them through the lace bra, thumb grazing over the stiff peaks of your nipples. He breaks the kiss to pull the dress over your head.

Gazing into his eyes for a second, you dive back in for another kiss before blindly undoing his belt and sliding the zipper down. The second you aren't kissing him is a second too long, so you hurriedly push the pants down over his hips. 

Leon speeds up the process by pulling the dark shirt over his head and discarding it somewhere on your floor. He shuffles back against your dresser at your body's encouragement. Your fingertips graze over every inch of exposed skin, exploratory and hungry. 

"Huh." He rasps, looking down at your hands. "Guess I'm ready for my physical, nurse." 

The flirty little quip goes unresponded to; you're too enraptured to even acknowledge it. You knew he was strong; you'd felt it in multiple instances, but the way he looks has your brain short-circuiting. Fat, healthy veins wind up his large forearms to the edge of his biceps. 

Now it was your turn for a one-liner. "You know what they say about big veins…" 

Your middle finger follows one up to the crook of his arm. He hums, wordlessly asking for clarification. 

"Good blood flow." 

You both get what you're referencing, and Leon breathes out a short, knowing chuckle.

Your fingers continue their exploration; his torso is riddled with thick, corded planes of muscle. All hard lines and deep ridges, and a peppering of chest hair across his pecs. He's a picture of physical health, and looks like he should be modeling underwear instead of standing in your humble, little bedroom. Speaking of underwear and good blood flow… 

The dark ones he's wearing are doing little to hide his growing erection. Your eyes graze it, devouring the erotic outline. Suddenly, with both hands, you grip his rounded shoulders and spin him around, and push him down onto the mattress, which bounces with his weight. He scoots back a little further onto the bed, allowing you space to straddle him. 

And you do. 

You stay like that, on top of him, for a few minutes as each other's tongues taste every inch of your mouths. Your hands wrap around his neck, sliding up into the soft hair at the nape. Leon maneuvers his hand between your bodies to find your cunt. The lace underwear is saturated with arousal, the gusset of it sliding wetly against your folds. Leon's fingers twitch to life, excited by the discovery, and his thumb grazes your swollen clit. He dips them down to your opening, gathering arousal on the pads of his fingers before returning to the sensitive bundle of nerves. You let out a shrill moan, collapsing into the curve of his neck and shoulder. 

"I want to hear what you want," he rasps against the shell of your ear. 

Instead of words, an incoherent and humiliating babble of sounds and stuttering falls from your lips.

"Yeah? Sounds complicated. I can work with that."

Still attached at the lips, Leon wraps one arm around you and pivots, pinning you against the mattress with his weight. Feeling the muscled, heavy reality of his body on top of yours is very sobering.

You grip the elastic waist of his briefs and pull them down, roughly exposing his aching cock. Though it's dark and between your bodies, your eyes flit down to the visual. The blushing tip is leaking, stringing precum from the slit to your bare stomach. Bravely starting at the base, you run a single finger along one of the thick veins that stretch along his shaft, following it until you get to the tip. Your thumb swipes over the slit, smearing the precum along the head. Leon's breathing immediately changes; once steady, now ragged and uneven. You wrap your fingers around his cock somewhere in the middle, giving him a gentle squeeze, just feeling the swelling throb against your palm. His hips twitch forward involuntarily, seeking friction. They buck his cock into your slick fist, the precum dribbling over your fingers.

He lets out something that sounds like a whimper, and you can't help but smile. "Oh yeah, Leon?" 

He glowers at you through half-lidded eyes, desperately trying to look angry, but with your hand on his dick, he's rendered useless. Your hand moves gradually, teasingly, feeling each bump and ridge of the veins and the squishy, leaking tip. You crane your neck forward to kiss him.

"You make me crazy," You whisper against his mouth. 

"Feeling's mutual." 

You use that as permission to pick up the pace in jerking him off. The precum leaks faster, and you drag your fist over it, smearing it down the length of him. After a few minutes, his large, strong hand finds your wrist.

"S-stop," he groans. "Fuck."

Worried that you were doing something wrong, your motions slow, and you look up into his eyes. His expression looks pained, teeth clenched, breathing rushing out through them. He's not unhappy. He's close. 

"Need to feel you." 

Taking himself into his hand, he presses the velvet soft head against your opening. She gives in willingly, slick with everything he's done to you so far. 

"God damnit," he hisses sharply. His hips don't move, frozen in the sensation. His head snaps backwards, his gaze upwards. For a moment, he stays like that, but you feel his cock twitch against you. 

"What's wrong?" 

"Nothing. You're just so…" When he looks back down at you, his eyes are blown wide, the icy blue almost swallowed entirely by the dark pupils. He looks like he's barely holding back, but all those years of control keep him at bay. He inhales a deep breath and squints, the crow's feet at the corners deepening. "Warm. Wet." 

You wiggle your hips happily, and Leon's lower abdomen clenches tight, chiseled muscles flexing responsively. You hungrily rake your hands over his taut, warm skin and bite down on the pillowy cushion of your bottom lip, staring up into his gaze with a determined glimmer. 

"Fuck me, Leon."

"Don't have to ask me twice. Actually…" he pauses, that dry wit still present. "Say it again." 

Your chest heaves as you lift your torso enough to wrap your hands around his neck and yank him back down to you. Your words are drawn out and dripping with a sickeningly wanton intent. "Fuck…. me….. Leon."

Leon's hips begin to move, slipping his cock inside. The girth of it is staggering, and presses against you in all the right ways. He moves slowly at first, feeling every clench and pull that your cunt gives, like she's trying to swallow it whole. His hands come down on your hips, gripping them tightly, using them as leverage for his quickening thrusts. His jaw hangs slack, his tired gaze replaced by a carnal ferocity that has you leaking out onto him. Every slide of his cock feels like molten lava. He doesn't say anything, too focused on the task at hand. Between thrusts, you titter and press your head back into the pillow. 

"What, no quips now?" 

"I…." he stammers, keeping his rhythm with his hips. His dirty-blonde hair is sweaty and piecey now, swaying back and forth with his harsh movements. He's fucking into you like his life depends on it. The visual is mindblowing, and you want to pinch yourself to see if you're dreaming. You let out a whimper and bring your legs up around his hips. The small adjustment gives him more depth, and he lets out a deep groan.

"Fuck," he rasps as he angles his hips into you. "Fuck."

You reach up behind you, gripping the pillow hard. You let out a particularly satisfied sound, and Leon grunts.

"That feel good?" 

You nod, breathlessly. Your lids flutter, to which Leon responds by gripping your chin softly. "Eyes on me."

The words make your cunt clench around him hard, and he feels that. You see his abdomen clench, and his left hand presses into your hips, angling your pelvis just enough to allow his thrusts to deepen further, the head of his cock hitting your cervix.

Your modest bedroom is filled with lewd noises; the wet slapping of skin, feverish breaths, and moans. 

"Fuck, Leon… fuck!" Your eyes are locked on his, following his earlier demands. He stares back at you, watching every micro-expression you make, watching the desperate way that you cling to coherence as he fucks into you.

He hits a pace that's particularly bullying, and you can't help it when your eyes roll back in your head. Your climax rushes towards you, and you grip his forearms tightly. Tight enough to leave crescent-shaped indentations on the skin.

"Leon, you're gonna' make me…. I'm gonna'…." 

"There it is," he says through gritted teeth. He doubles down and braces himself on his forearms, resting them on either side of your head. With a final push of energy, Leon's hips buck hard and send you over the edge. Your vision goes fuzzy around the edges, and everything is white hot as you clench around him in rhythmic pulses. He follows—quickly and loudly. His back arches, burying his cock as deep as it can go. Every pulse of his own orgasm fills you, and what leaks out the side, he pumps back in. 

As both your orgasms fade, Leon lowers himself down on top of you carefully, still supporting his weight enough to not crush you. But the distance is closed, and it's intimate. Loving. Hazy with post-coital romance.

"Funny," he says, still breathless from your coupling. 

You quirk a brow, looking up at him with expectant eyes. "Funny?" 

He nods. "Yeah. Guess I was good for something besides directions."

You feign offence and slap his bicep, skin against bare skin. 

"Feisty. I can get used to that." 

He dips down, pressing a single kiss against your half-open mouth. The bourbon is long gone, but you're still brazen when you ask Leon if he'll stay the night.

Falling asleep in his arms needs no validation; it's exactly where you're supposed to be.

[lariesographic]

baby things dividers

hearts, reblogs, comments and credits to @lariesographic are definitely appreciated!

[rednnedy]

BIRTHDAY WISH ✹ Leon Kennedy

SUMMARY: You should've never divorced Leon, and you both know it. Now, 3 years later, you've been having sort of like an affair for 6 months. No one knows about you two, but the birthday party Chris convinces him to host may be the final step you two need to become an us again ‼️ NSFW. Semi-public sex, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), slight dry humping, unprotected sex, creampie, breeing kink, prasing. Fluffy aftercare and a bit angsty ✹ PAIRINGS: RE9 Leon Kennedy x Ex Wife Redfield Reader ✹ Find me on AO3 ✹ Find me on Wattpad ✹ My RESIDENT EVIL MASTERLIST 💬 Officially July 31st in my timezone which means (headcanon) Leon's birthday and my birthday too! So officially my first fic posted being 24 :) Long time no see over here, but I really hope you like this one!

No matter how hard you’re trying to make sure no one notices that, once again, there’s something going on between you two… you and Leon are really messing everything up.

It’s his 49th birthday, and even you know your ex-husband had planned not to celebrate it, your brother insisted that he had to do something different because not every day you’re close to 50.

So, not even bothering to argue with him, here you are, in a hotel ballroom that Chris decided to rent, with way more guests than you know Leon’d like to have.

You bite your lower lip when you see him talking to Sherry while keeping one eye on you. You know this isn’t the best place, or the best day, for people to find out that you two are giving your relationship a second chance… or that what it looks like. You’re grateful that your daughter’s traveling with her college friends, because otherwise…

Your attention shifts away from your ex-husband when you hear a man’s voice speaking beside you. You don’t know his name, but you know he’s one of Leon’s coworkers at the DSO. You’d run into him a couple of times at different events the organization hosted for its employees, and even you didn’t remember his name, you did indeed remember his attempts to hit on you even though you were still married.

Now, nearly three years after your divorce, he seems to still have that intention, just like you do.

You go along with everything he says, even though you’re barely paying attention. Your eyes can’t help but stare at Leon, who now seems distracted by his cell phone. You know he’s faking a call when you see him hold it to his ear, but his lips don’t move.

You know exactly what you have to do when you see him disappear.

Seven minutes. That’s how long you’d agreed to spend on one of your trysts, in the restrooms, without raising any suspicion.

“Sorry, I think I have to go to the bathroom… A little emergency,” you say to the man, who’s still standing next to you, and still talking to you.

“Would you like to go to my room when you get back?” he blurts out quickly. “I booked a room for tonight before heading home. You know…”

“I’ve booked one for tonight, too, but thanks for the offer,” you say. You realize he’s about to interrupt you, so you decide to speak again without even thinking about the consequences of your words: “I have company tonight, so… I’m sorry.”

You don’t give him time to continue, nor do you turn around to see his reaction. You simply head quickly toward the restrooms farthest from the room, keeping your head down to avoid being caught… doing whatever you’re doing.

Doing exactly what you’ve been doing with your ex-husband for the past six months.

You can’t stop thinking about your siblings and what they’d think of this. You know Claire wouldn’t mind if you got back together with Leon. Actuallyt, just like the two of you, she didn’t even know why you’d signed the divorce papers. But Chris…

Typical overprotective older brother behaviour with his little sisters.

You step into the bathroom cautiously, looking around to make sure there’s no one else there but you, and hopefully Leon.

“Leon?” you whisper, waiting for a reply. “Oh God, tell me you’re here.” Damn it, it’s not like we’re twenty again that we have to be hiding like this—

You don’t hear the click of the door opening. All you notice’s a hand resting on your waist, pulling you toward the only bathroom stall. Then, lips press against your neck that begin to suck with no care.

“Damn…” your ex-husband murmurs against your temple, leaving a trail of kisses from your jawline to the edge of your cleavage. Unfortunately for you, you can’t stop him. You can only beg for more with every moan that escapes your lips. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you tonight, but you look gorgeous.”

You’re used to his compliments even divorced, but you can’t help feeling a kind of flutter in your stomach with a sense of nostalgia and regret in your chest.

“Do you mind if I take it off?” Leon asks, pulling you out of your thoughts as he steals a kiss from you. “I know I shouldn’t because we have to do this quick, but—”

“What if we save that for later?” you suggest, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him close to you again. This time you take your time bitting his neck, his ear… “That’s why we booked a room tonight, isn’t it?”

He smiles shyly and then looks at you, asking for your permission to continue, just as he always did whenever you had sex. You don’t hesitate to nod, and immediately tilt your head back, feeling Leon’s lips explore your neck once again as his hands slide up under your dress and glide down your thighs until they reach your underwear.

You try to stifle a moan when you feel two of his fingers touching your pussy above the fabric of your underwear.

“Didn’t expect you to be this wet right from the start…” he murmurs.

“What do you want me to say? You look absolutely gorgeous in that suit. Also… it’s your birthday, and thinking that we might get caught… I guess the whole idea of having a secret affair with my ex-husband turns me on,” you joke, even deep down you both know you’re telling the truth.

Leon doesn’t answer. Instead, he breaks contact with your pussy, making you moan in response, begging for him to touch you again.

“Leon…”

“Do you want me to keep going?” you ask. “Maybe I got a little carried away, but if you don’t want to do this here—”

“Please, Leon…” you interrupt him, praying he won’t think you’re too desperate.

He presses his lips against yours. There was nothing else to say, and you both knew it. You gently bite his lower lip as you deepen the kiss while he slides his index finger inside you, fucking you as his thumb takes care of your clit.

With a quick movement, you lift one of your legs and rest it on his waist. He slips in another finger without warning you, keeping going with his movements as you feel your walls tightening more.

Your breathing is ragged. You can’t stop moaning, begging him to keep going, not to stop, to make you come… You also know he wants something else: you glance down at his pants, where there’s a very noticeable bulge.

You’re the one who pulls away even when you were on the verge of your orgasm. But it was his birthday. Without even thinking, you reach for his belt to quickly undo it, but his hands gently grab your wrists, pulling them away from the waistband of his pants.

“Leon…” you complain. “It’s your day. Don’t do this.”

“It’s just that…” he looks down, touching his erection to try calming himself down. “I don’t want us to have sex here. Look, I know it’s my birthday, that I have a party out there that I should be enjoying. I also know we’re divorced and that maybe we’re taking a bit of a risk with this, but…”

He forces himself to shut up, but you can tell from his eyes that he wants to say more. 

“Do you regret this?” you ask him out of the blue, your voice trembling at the possible answer he might give you. “Do you want to call it quits?”

“Yeah.”

You feel a part of you break inside, and you let out a bittersweet laugh.

You knew it. You knew that starting over with Leon was a bad idea, specially considering that—

Once again, his hands grip your waist and pull you toward him. 

His lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s both aggressive and, at the same time, eager. You shouldn’t be doing this after his confession, but you can’t stop your fingers from running through his hair and tugging at it, desiring so much more from him even you know that, perhaps, he couldn’t give it to you.

“I want us to finish all this because I want us to start all over again,” he says the moment you pull apart, his voice agitated. “I want a second chance where we don’t have to hide from anyone else. Damn it, Miss Redfield, if you only knew everything I want to do with you all over again…”

“You sure?” you rest your forehead against his. He nods, stealing a kiss from you. “Leon, you really don’t have to say anything just to make me feel good—”

“Isn’t it my birthday? Chris told me that at 12,” he glances at his watch, “in about ten minutes, I have to go blow out the candles, but you know what the only thing I want is? You.”

You’ve spent enough years sharing your life with Leon first, as friends, then, as a couple, and finally as a married couple with a daughter in her twenties to know that he doesn’t like being the center of attention. 

You know he’d hated the whole idea of Chris’s huge birthday party, but at the same time, he’d given himself the chance to try something new without disappointing his ex-brother-in-law. 

Or brother-in-law.

“Do you want me to…?” you begin calmly, trying not to cross his boundaries or make him think you want anything more than sex with him. You clear your throat and think about rephrasing it better. “Would you like us to slip away, pretend something’s going on… and head to the bedroom?”

“I’ll go first, and then you’ll go.”

Before leaving, Leon gives you a quick kiss on the lips and whispers that he loves you.

I love you.

You lean against the wall for a few seconds, trying to relax while you process everything that’s happened. More than Leon fingering you… the fact that he asked you for a second chance.

He confessed he loves you…

You take your phone out of your purse and check the hour, making sure enough time has passed. Before leaving, you look at yourself in the mirror in the stall: your hair’s a mess, your lips are slightly swollen, and your cheeks are flushed. You’re grateful that your dress still looks the same as when you walked in, except for a few wrinkles.

As you’re heading back to the ballroom to go to the area leading to the bedrooms, again with your head down and walking quickly, you bump into someone who immediately grabs your shoulders firmly, but not too roughly.

You curse under your breath when you realize who it is just from their laugh.

Chris.

“You okay?” he asks, worried. He takes your chin and tilts your face from side to side, looking at the blush on your cheeks. Then he places the back of his hand on your forehead as if to check for a fever. “You’re…” he looks you up and down, “kinda looking weird.”

“I’ve got a headache,” you say quickly, and he seems to get it. When you take a step forward to leave, he grabs your forearm. “Seriously, I just want to go to my room and—”

“Leon’s room, you mean.”

You feel your face go pale. You avoid looking at your older brother as you consider denying it, making up an excuse credible enough to avoid the subject, especially today.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” is all you say.

“Yeah, right…” he chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

“Do you think I’m stupid enough to get back into some kind of relationship with my ex-husband? What am I, a teen?”

“I think you were pretty foolish to divorce him for reasons that neither you nor anyone else understood, but what could we say?” he replies sincerely. “So, on that note… I’m glad to see you two leaving the same place seven minutes apart,” he takes your chin in his hand again and smiles widely when he sees the hickies on your neck. “Seriously… it’s obvious you’re having a good time together and that you’re both comfortable with this. Hope so.”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now, Chris,” you say quickly. “Leon’s… he’s waiting for me…” you whisper, embarrassed, once again avoiding his gaze.

“Oh, I know. Did you really think I was going to make him blow out the candles in front of everyone when he’s always done it just with you and your daughter? Even during the years of your divorce.”

That catches you off guard.

“So…”

“I know you and Leon have been doing this for a while,” he confesses. “Just like Claire, Sherry, and your daughter know… Did you know the party was her idea? So that, in some way, I don’t know how she explained it to me, and I can’t explain it to you either, you could… get back together? Or whatever it is you’re doing…”

“She knew?” you ask, referring to your daughter.

“Not exactly… but she suspected it since… never mind,” he says, giving up and sighing. “She told me a couple of months ago that she was tired of seeing you two pretend all the time when it was clear you don’t act like a divorced couple. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you don’t have to hate each other or anything, but…”

You nod, knowing exactly what he means.

“I didn’t want her to think that…”

“Listen,” your brother interrupts you. 

Without hesitation, you look at him, even though you feel quite embarrassed, just like when you were a teenager.

“I don’t know what you two said or did in there, and I don’t care, but… it’s been a long time since I’ve seen Leon as happy as he looks today,” you feel a lump forming in your throat. “And… it’s been even longer since I’ve seen you this happy as well.”

“Chris…”

“Stop overthinking it. Stop coming up with stupid excuses for your older brother and go spend the night with your husband.”

“Ex-husband,” you correct him.

“We’ll see if tonight leads to another wedding,” you can’t help but laugh. “Come on, go on before he starts driving himself crazy wondering if you stood him up or not.”

You give him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, and immediately afterward you start running all over the venue, not giving a fuck if you’re suspicious or not.

You weave your way through the guests, apologizing when you bump into someone, and bite the inside of your cheek as you feel your heels hurting more. You keep running without forcing yourself to stop, even when you’re on the verge of falling several times.

You climb the stairs leading to the rooms with your heart pounding. Your heartbeat rises when you stop in front of room 333 and realise it’s the suite where you spent your wedding night.

You take a deep breath, trying not to get swept away by the mixed of emotions you’re feeling, and knock gently on the door.

It opens in a matter of seconds.

Leon’s shirt’s slightly unbuttoned, his hair a bit tousled, and he has an expression of nervousness mixed with happiness that, maybe, only you can recognize after all these years.

When his eyes meet yours, you notice how he gradually relaxes; how the straight line of his lips curves until they part just enough to reveal his lips.

“I ran into Chris,” you say out of the blue. “He knows. He knows we’re—”

Your ex-husband closes the distance between you by wrapping his arms around your waist and drawing your lips to his in a brief kiss, resting his forehead against yours as you pull apart.

“Are you okay?” he asks, stroking your cheek with his hand.

“Me? Better than ever,” you chuckle, giving him a peck on the lips.

“I’ve missed you…” now, it’s his turn to steal a kiss from you. “I’ve missed you so, so much,” and another one, “and I don’t want this to happen to us again…”

Leon picks you up in his arms and shuts the door with his foot, slamming it shut. He carries you straight to the bed without a second thought, gently laying you down and positioning himself on top of you, starting all over again to kiss every single part of you.

“Leon, it’s your birthday…” you insist, once again, between soft moans. You sit up a little and try to reach your hands toward his pants. “I’ve already told you: I want to make you feel good…”

“Come on, let me be the one to start.”

Your stomach flutters as he grabs your neck and brings your lips together for the hundredth time that day. Clumsily, he sits up: now Leon’s on the bottom and you’re on top of him, while you awkwardly slip off your heels and he slides the straps of your dress down until your tits are exposed. He takes his time with them, massaging them and brushing against your nipples, making you escape a few moans from your lips.

You reach a hand to the zipper of his pants without stopping your grinding against him, struggling to pull his pants down. Leon sits up slightly until he finally manages to take them off; then, his shirt, leaving him in nothing but his boxers, revealing his huge erection.

You don’t hesitate to run your hands over the fabric, watching it grow even larger at your touch.

“I need you to take that dress off…” your ex-husband says in a broken voice.

“Go ahead. What did you say your birthday wish was?”

Gently, he grabs your ass and lifts  you up a little. You take the opportunity to lift your dress up a bit, sitting back down on him and increasing the speed of the friction against his cock, which’s now fully erect. 

Leon, after a few clumsy tries, finally takes the bottom of your dress and pulls it up. You raise your arms without even thinking, feeling the slight brush of your hands, noticing how your skin’s getting more tingly and how you’re getting wetter.

“You know what else I’d like?” he says, returning to nibble at your neck. Quickly and with the utmost care, he grabs you by the waist, lifting you up with him and laying you down on the bed with your legs hanging off the edge. His kisses now focus on your stomach. “A baby. I know we already have that amazing young woman at home, and that we’re a bit old, but… Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“You’re crazy,” you say, rolling your eyes in pleasure as you feel his tongue flat against your pussy. “Leon, for God’s sake…”

“Don’t you want a baby?” he insists, sliding two of his fingers inside you in one swift motion.

“I think we’ve got enough on our hands with our daughter…” you tug at his hair, urging him to keep eating you out. “We’ve got enough to worry about figuring out what we’re going to tell her now that—”

“She’ll take it well,” he tells you, looking at you as he keeps thrusting his fingers inside you. “But you’re right. Now… I just want to spend a great time with my wife and think of nothing else.”

He pulls on your thighs and increases the friction even more with his tongue, his fingers moving even faster. You notice your vision becoming a bit blurry as he begins to gently suck on your clit with his mouth and a bit with his teeth. 

You feel the orgasm building in your stomach, and you know that Leon, once again, knows it.

He knows you as well as you know him.

“Do you want…?”

He breaks the contact between his mouth and your pussy, but doesn’t stop fingering you, even though he slows down as he sits up.

“I need you to fuck me right now, love.”

You run your hands around Leon’s neck and pull him toward you as he clumsily grabs his cock and lines it up with your entrance, entering you without previous warning and making you let out a moan of surprise.

“Leon…” you cling tightly to his neck as he thrusts into you mercilessly. “Leon, faster, please…”

You wrap your legs around his waist and feel him even more, specially when he listens to you and picks up the pace of his movements. You feel completely lost when one of his fingers finds its way to your clit to stimulate you more.

You don’t know how long you’ve been like this. You let yourself go, completely losing track of time, feeling incredibly comfortable for the first time in a long time.

“I’m going to come,” Leon whispers in your ear, which turns you on even more. “Where do you want me to—?”

“Inside,” you say without hesitation.

And that’s exactly what he does. 

After fucking you for a while longer, Leon finally cums inside you, keeping going until a few minutes later, and with the help of his fingers stimulating your clit, you come too.

You both end up sprawled on the bed, a total mess, but it’s the least you care about.

For a few minutes, neither of you says a word. You’re resting on Leon’s chest, while he covers both of you with the bedsheets, wrapping his arm around your neck and still planting kisses all over your face.

“Are you okay?”

“You always ask me the same thing,” you reply, looking up at him.

“And I’m going to keep doing it.”

He brushes a strand of hair away from your face and then moves his hand to the small of your back, tracing slow figures slowly.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he confesses in a low voice. “Not this,” he hastens to add, referring to sex, “but… us. All these years I’ve tried to convince myself that if we got divorced, it was for a reason. That if I really loved you, and even we were on good terms… I had to let you go.”

You swallow nervously, though you can’t stop looking at him and feeling regret for having wasted time. For not having fought harder for your relationship when there was nothing but the feeling that you were pulling apart. For feeling that you were missing out on each other’s lives by getting carried away by your own ones.

“The only thing I’ve managed to do all these years, despite following that mantra, is to wake up every morning looking for you on what should be your side of the bed.

“I haven’t… gotten over us either. Call me crazy, but… somehow… I felt like I was making the wrong decision when we got divorced, but, as you said… if I loved you, I had to let you go,” the words come out carefully of your lips, even though inside you’re falling apart. “I always kept making coffee for three, and I always had to lie to my daughter and tell her I was taking it to work,” you say, laughing, with tears already streaming down your face.

Leon closes his eyes for a moment and sighs.

It was ridiculous, and you both knew it.

“Chris told me we have to stop acting like this,” you say, shifting a little. Now you’re sitting, your tits exposed with no shame, and your hands reaching for Leon’s. “I don’t want to get married again tomorrow, much less act as if the divorce or our problems never happened, but…”

“But…?”

“I do want that second chance.”

Leon brings your hands to his lips, kissing them, and then kisses you.

“Well, then, let me get to know you all over again. Let me take you on dates, even if they’re a disaster… because I’m a disaster. I want to take you out to dinner without having the excuse of talking about our college-aged daughter’s grades,” you laugh. “Let me make you fall in love with me for a second time.”

“Are you trying to hit on your ex-wife?” you ask playfully, giving him a light nudge with your elbow.

“If you only knew how long I’ve been doing this… but you know I’m terrible at this kind of thing.”

“You’re so corny, you know that?”

“And I know you like it,” you smile even wider, knowing he’s right. “That’s why you married me, isn’t it?”

“That, and many other reasons. But you probably know them.”

He hugs you tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You can feel him trying to hold back his sobs. You, however, can’t hold back yours.

“I’ve never stopped loving you, Leon. And I’ll never stop.”

Your ex-husband pulls away from you, and the first thing you notice are how red his eyes re. He gently takes your chin in his hands and wipes away the tears that keep streaming down your face.

“This time… if there’s a problem, we talk about it. If we get angry, we talk about it. If we feel like we’re losing each other again… we talk about how to find each other again.”

“I don’t want to lose you again…” you whisper, shaking your head.

“And you won’t,” he says, cupping your face with both hands and kissing you. “I didn’t even have to blow out the candles for my birthday wish to come true… and I’m not going to be stupid enough to waste this second chance. I lost you once, even not at all… so I’m not going to risk it all again. If I risk something…” he kisses you again, “it’s us.”

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! Feedback, as well as comments and/or reblogs, are very much appreciated! My inbox is also open in case you want to make a request or talk to me! 💖

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[tokkiwrites]

𐔌 ⋮ 𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐒. 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃𝐘 𓏵 𝐅 ！𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

W.C 7.24K . ╋━ ℜed as my heart. 🎐

𑣲𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ─── You grew up defying the village’s only law: never enter the forest. But the forest gave you a companion, a wolf who never left your side. At twenty-three, forced into marriage with a man you cannot love, the wolf comes to save you, not as you remembered him, but as something far more dangerous.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ᣟ𐚁˳ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : WEREWOLF ! LEON KENNEDY x fem!reader, afab! reader, gothic fairytale AU kind of, little red riding hood inspired, mentions of blood, violence, slight gore, death, arranged marriage, some angst, misogyny, religious symbolism, false prophets, outcast reader, dark romance ???, slow burn, gothic horror elements, age gap ( leon is literally hundreds of years old), morally grey characters, ABO basically (mates, knots, short desc of leons dick), unprotected p in v, virginity loss, belly bulge, cumflation, fingering ( f receiving ), lots of talking, if there's something else lmk !!!

݁ᲝAIᲘ ᲝEᲘU | ˖Ი𐑼⋆ 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐊𝐈 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 🎮 . ᐟ.ᐟ hey yall.. i was gone for an eternity... again... BUT I AM BACK WITH THIS STORY YEPPEEE !! i bring you werewolf leon. its a rewrite of another fic of mine with some changes. i hope you enjoy this tiny world ive built and lmk if you'd like a longer series.

As the full moon settles deep under the hilltops, the sun bloodies up the sky again, signaling yet another day has begun. This cruel world, for what it is worth, has its beauty. A beauty that punishes as much as it blesses, that lures you with sweet words only to tear you apart in the next breath. No child is born into this world without being touched by its cruelty.

And you were no exception.

The village had rules that were written in the marrow of every person, written in every lullaby people sung to children. Never step into the forest, it was not yours to touch.

The trees were old, older than the temple stones, older than the altars where false gods, charlatans pretending to be holy men, now fattened themselves on coin and praise. The forest belonged to others, others who were not men nor beast.

But what does a child care for rules when the air is new with spring and the light pools gold on the green grass?

You saw her first, the little doe. Her flank streaked red, a gash blooming along her side. She stumbled from the underbrush and collapsed just beyond the tree line, sides heaving, eyes rolling white. Without thought and without even fear, your little legs carried you to her.

"Hello.." you whispered, voice small and trembling, hands outstretched as if your touch alone could heal it. Behind you, the village roofs slept in the distance. Ahead, the trees loomed, black spines against the dawn.

And in their shadows, something watched.

You didn’t see it at first, only heard the sound of branches shifting, a low pad of paws on damp earth. The doe’s ears flicked but she did not bolt. Perhaps she understood before you did.

Yellow eyes, twin coals, caught the newborn sun.

The huge wolf stood where the light couldn’t reach, silent. Enormous. His coat was dark, thick, blending with the shadows, but his gaze burned. He did not lunge and he did not growl. He only looked. A scream might have saved you, running might have spared you. But instead you did the strangest, most dangerous thing of all.

"She’s hurt.. Don’tㅡ be cruel!" You clenched your fists by your side.

The wolf tilted his head, as though the words puzzled him. As if even he couldn't understand how one could be so careless and so naive. What a silly girl, he probably thought. Then he stepped back into the deeper dark. He was gone just like that.

The doe trembled under your touch, its warm blood slicking your palms. You cried, not out of fear, but frustration. You had no way to help. Your family’s apothecary was full of herbs, tinctures, salves yet here, in the lonesome forest, you were helpless.

By the time you fetched anyone, the doe was gone. The grass was stained where she had lain, the earth turned over in signs of struggle. And among them you saw pawprints, larger than any normal dog or wolf.

You told no one, but you kept going back since then.

By fourteen, you had understood well what it meant to be silent. The apothecary shelves sagged with jars no one bought anymore, the herbs inside curling into dust. The air smelled like thyme and lamiaceae, but no footsteps crossed the threshold. Only your father’s voice filled the old space, muttering as he ground another root no one had asked for.

You kept your head down, hands busy, because it was easier that way, easier than watching the villagers bow to men in gold chains and red velvet robes, who arrived in their square with empty promises. Easier than noticing how your mother’s eyes lingered on the cracked beams above the counter, as though she were counting how many more days before they collapsed.

When the feeling of it was too much, you went where no one was supposed to go.

The forest was forbidden, yes, but it welcomed you more kindly than the village ever had. The trees leaned low, their branches a shelter. Wildflowers tangled at your ankles, and the streams whispered secrets you never dared tell your mother.

And when you went in the forest, he was there.

You couldn’t always see him. Sometimes he was only a shadow between trunks, or a faint rustle in the leaves. But you knew he was there.

Even when the woods were still, you felt eyes on you. Not cruel, not yet kind. Only watching, maybe curious just as you.

You should have been afraid. Perhaps you were, at first. But children grow used to danger when it becomes a part of their days. You carried your fear like another basket in your hands, which was heavy but it became ordinary.

Once, gathering berries, your hem snagged on a thorn. You tugged too hard and stumbled, and the fruit scattering into the dirt. Hot tears stung your eyes, not for the pain in your scraped knee, but for the waste. It was foolish, yes, yet you cried anyway.

You looked up through wet lashes and saw them, those two stars burning in the shade. The wolf. He seemed larger than before.

You did not run, foolish child. "Don’t laugh at me.." you said. "It wasn’t my fault!"

He tilted his head, and for a moment you heard the faintest rumble.

Your heart beat so loud you thought it might shake loose out of your chest. When you left, you felt lighter. As though confessing your shame to the shadows had eased something in you.

You didn’t tell anyone about it. How could you? No one would believe that the forest had listened to a little girl.

As time passed, so had your hope in the world. For the time will never stop to aid mere dreamers.

The bell above the apothecary door rang, a foreign sound now, and you froze mid sweep, hands gripping the broom so tightly.

Your father's shoulders tensed behind the counter, jaw tight as he straightened the jars of powdered plants. Your mother's eyes flicked toward the newcomers, wary, composed, as though she had been expecting them all of her life.

They were the gilded men, with heads high, and their robes of deep red embroidered with gold, coins clinking as they moved. One stepped forward, hands behind his back, a vile smile on his revolving face.

"Good day." he said. "We have heard of your, how shall I say, services to the village over the years. And we think perhaps we can improve upon them."

Your stomach knotted. You knew these men. Men who hid in holy trappings. Oh, men. They weren't worthy of such title.

"We have what we need." Your father’s words did not falter. "The herbs, the roots, they are ours... We tend them with care."

The man tilted his head, smile widening, his ugly eyes scanning you for a moment, lingering a bit too long before sliding back to your parents.

"Ah, but of course!" he said. "But care alone does not suffice. People desire results. We can provide those results. And in exchange we require only your cooperation!"

Your mother’s fingers twitched, brushing a loose strand of hair from her forehead. "Cooperation?" she asked, trying to calm herself, all though you could see the tears in her eyes.

"What is it you mean?"

The man’s gaze flicked to you again. "A simple matter. We wish to purchase the apothecary. Its location, its resources, and its goodwill with the people. We will provide wealth, advancement, a future."

A laugh slipped from somewhere in your chest. It was bitter. Your hands pressed to your apron as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks.

"A future?" you whispered. "You call it a future, but why does this village feel like a cage?"

One of the other men, who was shorter and more rotund with a bald patch on the top of his head, leaned forward.

"Dear girl.." He glanced at you, as if noticing you for the first time. "You work here?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"She is my daughter." Your father began.

"Oh, yes.. lovely, diligent, though unseen. Perhaps you can assist us in the transition?"

You swallowed. You'd rather die than help. Your throat was dry. You wanted to speak, to argue, to tell them they had no right, that this was your father's work, your mother's dreams, but the words stuck somewhere behind your heart.

"They will take the shelves." you heard your mother mutter under her breath to your father, but the words were lost amid the polished laughter of the men. "They will take everything.."

And then you heard your father's voice, which was sorrowful.

"If we refuse, they will burn us from the village. They will take the apothecary by force, and the people will cheer."

You felt small and hollow, as the men made their terms clear. Coins were counted, papers slid across the counter, signatures pressed into ink that smelled of rot and control.

The tall man with eyes like polished diamonds turned to you.

"You may stay." he said softly. "You shall be the maid. Admirable work, yes." But you did not feel admired.

You felt exposed, like a fish caught in a net. The door closed behind them, the bell ringing one last time. Silence filled the room. You sank onto the floor behind a low shelf, hands gripping your knees, cheeks streaked with tears you hadn’t meant to shed.

"Why did yㅡyou let them.. Why?"

"Child.." your mother said, her voice trembling now "We had no choice. Not anymore. We were lucky to have lasted this long."

You pressed your face to your knees, letting the sobs come. And somewhere beneath those tears the memory of the forest stirred, a place where no gilded man could enter, where no coin could buy or threaten.

Again, you ran.

You ran until the cobblestones gave way to soft earth, until the scent of smoke and coin and polished wood faded behind you. Your legs trembled, from exhaustion, from the hurt of helplessness, the spoiled, ugly taste of despair curling on your tongue.

The trees leaned toward you as you stumbled into the forest, leaves brushing your hair like words comfort, roots rising to steady your frantic steps.

Your breaths came unevenly, sharp and desperate and then you finally fell to your knees on the soft earth.

You buried your face in your arms, letting the tears come freely. You felt it all now. The flowers at your feet, the petals damp with dew. Somewhere nearby, a stream murmured, threading its way through the underbrush. You shivered and pressed your body closer to the earth, curling in on yourself.

Hours passed.

When you stirred, the sky was lighter, pink at the edges of the canopy. You looked around, trying to shake some sense into your sleepy mind.

And there he was again.

He did not approach, did not make a sound. He simply stood there, dark and immense, watching and patient, as always.

You lifted your head, blurry eyed. "IㅡI can't do anything right!"

You pressed your hands to your face again, ashamed. Yet you felt seen without judgment, without ridicule. By him.

More hours must have passed in that stillness. When you dared to open your eyes again, the forest had shifted with the afternoon light. Around you, the petals of wildflowers were arranged into a soft, inviting bed, and beside you lay a small pile of berries, dark and ripe.

Golden eyes watched from the shadow line of trees. He had been guarding.

"Youㅡ did not leave.."

Something swelled in your chest, fear, yes, but something else, too. Comfort. Wonder? Maybe. A connection to something alive and strong in a world that had often been cruel.

You pressed your hands to the ground and leaned forward, face nearly touching the petals, murmuring "I’m sorry.. for everything. I know I cry a lot.."

And for the first time in a long while, curled amongst the blossoms with the sweet berries at your side, you dared to let your wild heart rest, even if only for a little while.

The village shifted around you, but not toward kindness. The apothecary your parents once ran, now a Coin House with no herbs that filled the shelves, no smell of lavender or warm wax, only the faint must of old wood and money hungry monsters. You still worked there, of course.

Villagers came, yes, but not for cures. They left coins pressed into your hands or on the counter, whispered prayers tucked into envelopes, along the little richness they had. They were trusting, hoping, that one day, some return would be made if they gave it all away now. Some profit, some miracle from God himself.

Your father had left a year ago, or more, you lost count of time, claiming he needed to secure more patrons. Even if the apothecary was no longer, he still wanted to sell what was left of it.

No one expected him back, not after three months had passed. After seven moths of him gone, your mother became a ghost of whom she was, counting the little coins left, counting days, counting her strength until it ran thin.

Days came and went, and you were twenty three now, which meant one thing: you were eligible. And the arrangements had already been made.

The man chosen for you was old and cruel, but rich, yet unmoving as stone. Your mother spoke little when she told you. Your father was now gone, so it was your turn to give back for the many years they have raised you, fed you, clothed you.

And so, the day of the meeting came. Alongside him was the richest of them all, his brother perhaps. They looked related, both with shrunken faces and blue eyes, yet with guts huge from the lot of money they ate on the daily. Gluttony and Greed, both stood in front of you.

Greed did not smile, yet his brother spoke softly, as if talking to a child. "Your duty is simple." he said. "Love him, worship him, bear his children, keep to his house. That is your life now.”

You nodded, but the destain in your eyes was clear. You wanted to bite back, rip straight through their jugular, for the taste of ugliness was too much on your tongue and the thorns that pierced your heart were growing.

"What if I do not want to?"

Gluttony turned to his brother in silence, as if considering it. Then, they erupted in laughter, their voices echoing in the empty church.

"You are a child even more so a woman! You will do as you're told." They both laughed some more, as if seeing you take into account what you might actually want was the tastiest meal they’ve ever had.

"Stupid woman."

"Obey, and do not make me repeat myself. You're only but a lowly peasant girl, with no father and a mother on the brink of death. You should feel lucky you were chosen."

You sucked in a deep breath, the wind hitting against the dusty glass windows. You would be damned if you ever cried in front of a hoaxer, not again, not ever. You may be forced to marry that heathen of a man, Greed, but no one could force you to love him.

So that was that. You excused yourself and walked out of the church, the sundown hugging you with its golden light.

Alone, you walked the quiet streets of the village, listening to the distant crackles of lanterns, to the clatter of pots and pans as people were preparing supper.

The forest at the edge of the village beckoned. And you slipped toward it, letting your tears fall freely.

Branches arched above like spires, and the earth beneath you was soft. Somewhere in the shadows, that same presence remained.

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you stumbled over a root. You pressed your hands to your face and let it all go, the sobs coming ragged and ugly. You had nowhere to hide now, but the forest did not judge you for that.

You froze, half blind with tears. He came, the wolf. Closer than ever before.

He came forward until his shadow covered yours, and lowered himself until his head pressed into your lap. Your breath hitched. Fingers hovered, trembling, until instinct overcame fear. You touched him. His fur was thicker, softer than you had imagined all these years.

The heat of him seeped through your skirts, steadying you as though he were more real than anything else in the world.

"I-I do not know what to do.." you whispered to the wolf. "They want to— to marry me off. To him. He is.. he’s cruel, and I’ll be nothing but a caged bird."

The wolf’s chest rose and fell.

"I don’t want to leave. I belong here.." Your voice cracked. "I belong to the trees, and the streams, and the air in this forest, not to him! Oh, little wolf.."

His ears twitched.

"I wish I was brave." you confessed. "I wish.. I could say no. But Mother says we’ll die otherwise. She says I must be grateful."

Your fingers sank deeper into his fur, clutching at it. "They all look at me like I’m a coin to be spent. No one asks me what I want. Not once, not ever..."

The wolf let out a low sound then, a growl that shaked against your hands, your thighs and your chest. "I know.." you said, as if he had spoken. "You understand, don’t you? You’ve been here all along.. You are my only friend."

Silence stretched. You curled forward, pressing your forehead to the crown of his head, your tears dampening his fur. "If you were human, I'd ask you to take me away. Anywhere! Anywhere but here..."

The wolf stilled. If it were human.

There were only seven more days left until the ceremony. People who had never even known you were to arrive, to celebrate the union that would forever bind you to that monster.

You were out in the back garden, looking at the now dead plants your dad used to take care of. This patch of earth had been his pride. It used to be a place full of life, now, the stalks were brittle, the soil dry and cracked. A graveyard of what had been. It was truly horrible how much things could change in so small a span of years.

Some crunching on nearby leaves wake you from your sorrowful trance. You lifted your head, and froze. A man stood at the edge of the garden. A villager. No, he couldn't be one. You knew every face, good or bad.

No, this man was someone else.

Tall, broad, his shoulders filling the space as if the light itself had to bend to allow him through. His hair was light, touched with grey that caught the wan light of dusk, and his jaw was shadowed with rough stubble. His face looked carved from something older than the stone of this earth, something cruel yet tender all at once.

You tried to speak but couldn't. You felt the strangest pull, not fear exactly, but almost recognition. As though your soul had seen him before, but your eyes never had.

He looked at you, trying to weigh his words as to not scare you away, perhaps.

"You live here?" His voice was lower than you expected. It sounded just like thunder.

You swallowed and shaked your head. "YㅡYes." The word snagged in your throat. You hadn’t stammered like this in front of a man since you were a child.

He stepped no closer, though you realized you wished he would. "Strange place for someone like you." he said quietly, his eyes drifting over the dead garden you were mourning.

You looked down at your hands, embarrassed without knowing why. "It wasn’t always like this."

When you dared to look up again, he was already walking away, vanishing into the trees.

He came again, and again. Never with warning, never with reason. Sometimes he asked simple things. Whether you liked the woods, whether you feared them.

Sometimes he said nothing at all, only watched you as though he were reading you like a book. You never found the courage to ask who he was.

But each time he came, your shyness only deepened. His presence made you clumsy with words, made your skin burn beneath his gaze, all blushed and warm like simmering milk on fire.

You always waited for him, in the same place, with that same feeling in your stomach.

He was older, rougher, and oh so handsome, nothing like the boys who tried to snicker at you in the square, or the odious man you were about to marry.

Three days until the wedding, you slipped away to the forest and the wolf was there, as always, waiting.

"I've met someone." you confessed, cheeks heating though no one else could hear what you had said. "The most handsome man I’ve ever seen. It seems like... Like he understands me, even if he doesn’t say much."

The wolf’s ears flicked. You laughed softly, reaching out to pet him. "I must sound foolish, don’t I? Telling secrets to a wolf... But I can’t tell anyone else. Not Mother, not the others. Only you, my little friend."

You brushed your fingers through his fur.

"His voice is so soft and sweet, but so strong.." you whispered. "It feels like I’ve heard it before. Maybe in a dream..." The wolf closed his eyes. The forest went utterly still.

Maybe in a dream.

The second to last day came fast.

The house was filled with people and of preparations. Strangers came and went, voices too loud, hands too busy arranging a future you wanted no part of. Your mother’s face was pale, her eyes darting whenever they met yours, as though she couldn’t bear the sight of what she’d done.

You escaped to the garden, as you always did. The plants were still dead, the soil still barren, but at least here the noise of the village could not reach you.

You sat on your little stool by the fence, skirts brushing the dirt, fingers plucking absently at a wilted stem until it snapped.

And as always, he came.

He lingered at the edge of the garden, that towering frame occupying the fading light. He never crossed into the garden as though there was an invisible wall between you two.

He didn’t speak and only watched you with that unreadable gaze, his arms folded across his chest.

You tried not to look at him too long. Tried not to let him see the way your throat tightened or how your heart was knocking against your ribs.

But the silence pressed on you until you thought you might choke. When at last he turned to leave, something in you broke.

"I will get married tomorrow!" you called. The words tore from your throat louder than you'd meant. You were desperate.

You rose from your stool, fists clenching at your sides. "I do n—ot want to." your voice cracked. "But I must."

Slowly, he turned his head, just enough to glance over his shoulder. In the dim light, you saw the sharp set of his jaw.

"Why must I marry someone whom I do not love?" you asked, your voice breaking into a sob. "Why must I give myself to a man I despise?"

For a long, long moment, he said nothing. Did he even hear you?

"The world is a cruel place, little miss."

He turned his back again, striding away, but his voice you still heard as he walked in the coming darkness. "But you will get your happiness in no time."

He was gone just like that, swallowed whole by the forest. You stood alone in your silence, tears running down your face like a cascade.

The door snapped open behind you.

"What are you doing out here? Who are you talking to?" your mother’s voice cut like a whip across your skin.

You turned quickly, dragging the back of your hand across your cheeks, but it was too late. Her eyes narrowed, catching the redness in yours.

"Is this how you plan to make these plants come back alive?" she snapped, gesturing to the withered stalks around you. "Crying over them?"

Your frown deepened, and you wiped your tears more harshly this time, angry at yourself for letting her see. Angry at the world for making you cry at all.

Her shoulders lowered just slightly. The sharpness in her tone gave way to something softer, as she sighed. "Come, child. It’s dark."

You hesitated, glancing back once at the trees.

"Come inside." she called your name, louder now.

And though every part of you longed to run into the forest and follow him, you obeyed.

The morning of your wedding dawned without mercy.

Church bells tolled in the square. Didn't they know what fate they were striking for you? Your mother’s hands trembled as she drew the white gown over your shoulders.

The cloth was rich, far richer than anything you had ever owned yet it felt like a shroud, heavy and suffocating you.

"Stand still." She whispered sharply. "Do not shame me before them."

You stood stiff as she pinned the veil into your hair. It fell like a curtain of smoke over your face, blurring the world into shadow. When you looked down at yourself, the white was blinding, sanctified but you knew it wasn’t purity they celebrated. It was possession.

"They will see you as a proper wife." your mother began, tying the last ribbon at your waist. "And perhaps you will know comfort. Perhaps not. But you must endure, child."

You turned your face toward her, though the veil softened her features. "Do you call this comfort?"

Her mouth pressed into a thin line. "Do not make me answer that! The world has no patience for women who dream too much."

The door opened. The sound of voices carried from outside, of villagers gathering, the clatter of carts, the laughter of children who did not know better.

Your stomach twisted.

The walk to the chapel felt endless. Each step made you feel as if you were walking to your own funeral. Villagers turned their heads as you passed, some smiling, some whispering behind their hands.

A few looked at you with pity, yet none dared to speak.

The chapel loomed ahead, its spire stabbing the sky. Inside, candles flickered against the stone, throwing long shadows. The priest stood ready, his robes gleaming red and gold. Beside him, your groom waited.

The Greed. He was older than you by decades, his face sagging like wax melted in the august sun. Rings glittered on every finger, but his eyes were small, so sharp and hungry. When you approached, he grinned, a crooked thing of a smile.

"Lift her veil." he ordered to the best man, who was there to make sure you will not try to run away.

The man reached for you, and for a moment, you thought to pull back, but your mother’s hand pressed at your back, forcing you forward. The veil was lifted.

The groom’s eyes swept over your face, down your form, slow and possessive. "You shall give me strong sons." he said.

The priest cleared his throat, raising his hands. "Before the eyes of the God and of men, we bind these two.”

The groom’s hand clamped down on yours, his nails digging into your glove. His smile was a sneer, fat, greedy and assured. The priest’s voice rose again, but the sound was muddied by your own heartbeat in your eardrums. You wished to kill, eat them all alive then spit them out and let whatever God they prayed to do the judging.

"Let no one put asunder what is bound this day—"

The doors exploded.

Wood splintered, crashing inward as a sound like thunder split the air. A growl rolled through the church, low and guttural vibrating the very walls of it.

The wolf filled the doorway.

Gasps, screams, prayers, a flood of voices all at once. His teeth gleamed wet, his eyes burned like molten moons. He stepped forward, claws raking the stone, and the people fell back.

"The Beast!" the priest yelled, holding his relic high. "The Abomination!"

The wolf lunged. The relic snapped like kindling between his jaws, the priest crumpling beneath him with a scream that ended wet as his very bones shattered.

Panic erupted. Guests scrambled over pews, mothers shielding children, men fumbling for weapons they had no courage to use.

The wolf moved through them like fire through dry fields. He was unstoppable, merciless. He ripped one man in half, sent another crashing against the altar with a swipe of his large paw. The whole building shook with the force of his fury.

Your mother grabbed your wrist. "Run!" She gasped, tugging you toward the side door. But the crush of bodies shoved her back. You saw her eyes widen with tears before the crowd carried her away.

The groom shrieked, pushing you aside as he tried to flee, yet his velvet robes tangled his legs. He stumbled, falling hard. The wolf’s head snapped toward him, lips curling back over fangs.

"No—!" the man wailed. "Stay away you monster!"

The wolf’s jaws closed on his neck, dragging him across the stone. His scream ripped through the chapel as blood sprayed the white floor.

The wolf shook him like a rag, bones cracking, flesh tearing, his head barely connected to the rest of his body now.

You pressed against the altar, your veil slipping, your hands shaking, and yet your heart did not cower. Not from him.

The wolf dropped what was left of the man. He turned, his chest heaving, blood matting his muzzle. His eyes locked on yours.

You thought it must be all a dream, surely. But then he began to change. From beast to man.

His form convulsed, stretching, breaking. Bones shifted beneath fur, muscle twisting, reshaping. Claws curled back into fingers, fur melting into skin slick with sweat and blood, the growls faded into a human gasp.

When it ended, he stood before you. The man from the garden.

His chest rose and fell, blood running down his arms, his hands. His eyes, the same golden fire, fixed on you.

The church lay in ruin around you, the floor slick with blood, streaking your once white gown. The cries of the dying were echoing off the stone.

You swallowed. "You.." The word barely scraped out by your lips "You killed them all."

His gaze didn’t flinch. "I spared who deserved sparing." His voice was low "The rest—" He glanced briefly toward the broken benches, the dead people, the corpse of the man you were meant to wed. His lip curled "The rest were vermin."

Your throat tightened. "But you—" you shook your head, tears streaking down your cheeks. "You’re the wolf."

"And you were never afraid."

"I was." you whispered. "At first. I thoughtㅡ I thought you might devour me.."

"Yet.." his voice rumbled "You stayed."

"Why me?" You blinked hard. "Why not anyone else? Why watch over me?"

His breath shuddered as he stopped just before you, close enough that you could smell the copper on his skin. "Because you were never theirs to take." he said. "Because you are mine."

"Yours?"

The corner of his mouth curled in a smile, but heavy, sorrowful. "Do you not feel it?" His eyes searched yours.

"All those nights you spoke to me as though I could answer? All those tears you spilled into the earth, thinking no one cared? I was there. Always."

"No.." Your hand lifted, trembling, and you touched your chest where your heart thundered. "I thoughtㅡ I thought I was imagining it."

"You were not imagining me." He reached then, slowly, taking your hand in his. His fingers were slick with blood, staining yours, binding them together. He lifted it, bowing his head, pressing his lips hard against your knuckles.

You gasped softly, your tears slipping faster. "You’re covered in blood... are you hurt?"

His eyes flicked up, still holding your hand against his mouth. "Would you rather I left you to him? To a life of chains?"

"No!" The word burst out. "I would rather d-die than belong to him."

He released a sharp breath, almost a laugh. "Good. Then you belong to me."

Your other hand rose, cupping his cheek. The blood was now dry. Still, he leaned into your touch, his eyes slipping shut in relief. "Say it."

"I belong to you.."

His eyes snapped open and then his mouth crashed against yours.

The kiss was brutal, desperate, full of teeth and hunger. His hand tangled in your hair, pulling you close, as if he might fuse you to him forever.

Your very first kiss. He has waited for so long.

The taste of his tongue was iron and smoke, your lips smeared with blood, his, yours, theirs, you didn’t care. You clung to him, hands gripping his shoulders as if he gave you life.

"I shall make you mine now."

Your veil had slipped back, tangled with your hair, sticky with blood. The pristine white of your gown was gone, streaked red where his hands had held you, where strangers had fallen. You should have been horrified, undone by it all, yet when his golden eyes burned down into yours, you felt nothing but heat.

"Come." he said, his hand took yours. "This place will rot. It was never meant for you."

He pulled you gently over broken benches and shattered glass. The chapel doors hung open, crooked on their hinges, and beyond them the forest called.

You stumbled once, the hem of your dress catching, but his arm caught you. The chaos around you was nothing compared to the need burning in him.

Outside, the night was waiting. The moon swelled fat above the treeline, its silver light spilling down like a blessing.

He led you into the shadows, further and further, until the screams of the village were only echoes in the wind.

Finally, when the trees grew dense enough to hide you from every prying eye, he stopped. His chest rose and fell, still ragged from battle. He turned to you.

"You do not know what I am." He said.

You swallowed hard, your hand still trapped in his. "I do. You’re my wolf, my friend.."

"Not just a wolf." He looked past you "A man, a beast— both, and neither. Long before your priests, before your coin houses and their false gods, my kind walked among yours. We lived, we loved, we shared blood and bread and fire."

He paused, his breath unsteady. "But men are quick to fear what they cannot chain. So a treaty was carvedㅡ your kind to the villages, mine to the forest. We were forbidden to take wives from you, forbidden to bear children together. It was peace, they said. Peace bought with walls."

"And you obeyed?"

"For a time." His mouth curved, bitter. "Until they stole what was mine." His hand tightened around yours. "You."

"I—I don’t understand."

His other hand rose, rough fingers brushing your jaw. "You are my mate. From the moment you were born, from the moment you stepped into the forest as a child, I knew. Your scent, your voice IㅡI could not keep away. The treaty has no claim on you. No paper signed by frightened vermin can sever what the moon has bound." The forest was oh so still. "You are mine." he said again.

Your lips parted with your heart slamming in your chest. "IㅡI.."

"From the first breath you drew, you were marked. I have circled this place for years, waiting, cursing the gods who made it so I could not touch you, love you.. But no longer."

"You waited for me?"

"I hunted, I killed, I endured. But I did not take a mate. You were mine. Always. Even when you were too small to know, I knew. I could not choose another."

"Then why now?"

"Because they would have bound you to another. Stolen you from me. And I will tear apart the world before I allow that." The ferocity of his tone should have frightened you, really. Instead, you felt the heat pooling in your lower belly. His hand drifted to your throat, just to feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers.

"You are mine." he said yet again. "Mine, as the moon is to the night. Do you accept it? Do you accept me, wolf and man alike?" The forest leaned closer, the wind curling around your gown, whispering and urging you on.

"I do." you blinked up at him though heavy lashes. "I accept you."

His eyes softened, though his grip did not. He leaned his forehead against yours, breath hot against your puffy lips.

"I am yours." you managed.

"And I am yours." he spoke against your skin.

His nose brushed the line of your jaw, a low growl vibrating in his chest. "With those words, you bind me as surely as the moon binds the tide. There is no undoing it, no escape from me now."

"I do not want to escape.." you confessed.

Moonlight slipped between the branches, painting silver over your bloodied gown, over his torn shirt, over the curve of his throat as it moved when he swallowed. He was gorgeous and you were completely bewitched.

He drew back just enough to look at you, his hand still cradling your jaw. "You are trembling." his voice was low. "Is it from fear or want?"

Your lips parted, no answer rising.

A slow smile curved his mouth. His thumb brushed over your cheek. "You shake like a doe cornered in the grass, as the ones you found years ago." he spoke, voice almost like laughter. "But I see the truth in your eyes. It is not fear that has you weak, little fawn."

His other hand slid to the nape of your neck, tilting your face up to him. "Tell me." he said softer now "What is it you want of me?"

Heat surged in your face, your throat tightening. Words gathered, then scattered before they could leave your lips. You looked away.

His hand at your neck tightened just enough to make you gasp "No." He tuts. "Do not hide from me." he said. "Not you, not now. Speak it."

"I—" your breath faltered. His eyes bore into you, demanding, waiting. Shame clawed at you, but beneath it was something far hotter, an ache that made your knees want to give up. "I don’t know what I— what I feel."

He leaned closer, his mouth grazing your temple. "Then I shall tell you. You feel hunger. Need. You want me to put my hands upon you. To make you mine in truth." His lips brushed your ear. "Say it."

"I wㅡant you." you stuttered.

"Again." His voice was firm.

"I want you." stronger this time, though your face was brighter than apples.

His own restraint was fraying. "Good girl."

His hand slid from your jaw, down the column of your throat, over the swell of your breast, pausing as to feel the way you shivered. His mouth was still at your ear, breath ragged, his words sinking deeper than a dagger.

"I will guard you." thumb brushing the edge of your collarbone. "No man will lay claim to you again. No vows but mine, no chains but the ones you choose.."

Your lips parted, your body leaning into his without thought. His palm flattened over your chest, right where your heart thundered.

"You will run where you please, little fawn. The hills, the streams—" His voice deepened almost breaking as his hand swept lower, over the folds of your dress, gathering the fabric in his fist, the buttons giving out. "You will laugh, and breathe, and never bow again."

Your knees buckled, a gasp tearing out of you as his fingers brushed your thigh.

"You hear me?" His voice was demanding, though his lips ghosted tenderly along your neck and shoulder. "You are mine, and I will see you free."

His hands roamed slowly, memorizing every curve of your body that had been hidden from the world all this while. "My beautiful little fawn. " his voice was fire. "You belong to no one but me."

"I.. I've never—" your voice wavered "I've never been with anyone.. like this."

"I know." he breathed, thumb stroking along your waist. "I've waited a long time to show you."

His hands pressed you tighter to him, but his eyes softened as he saw the way you clung to him desperately. "Do you trust me, little fawn?"

You nodded weakly, unable to speak. "You should. You are mine and I would die a thousand deaths before letting a single hair on your head be touched.”

His hands moved, teasing, grazing over places that had never known attention, and your body flinched and arched into it all at once.

"I will show you, little fawn. I will show you what it means to be cherished and wanted and protected...”

He takes your hand into his rugged palm, pressing it onto the hardened form in his pants. You were new to this, yes, yet you knew what that meant.

"Do you feel it? How much I’ve waited for this? For you?" You moan without reason, all shy and teary eyed.

In mere seconds, your dress was completely off, ripped into rags by his strong hands. You were flush against a tree, flowers wet of rain dancing at your bare feet. Though the wind blew, your body was hot all over, this strange, new feeling leaving you wanting more.

"I do not wish to scare you away." He finally speaks again, his pants coming undone and slipping past his knees. "You need to understand there is nothing human about what is about to happen."

You nod, though you can feel your toes curling into dirt. You look down and saying you were shocked would be an understatement. He was utterly enormous, tip red and angry, base bulbous, pulsing. Is this what all men carried in their trousers? Ah, wait, but he was no man.

Your shy eyes meet his again and he smiles. "Do not fear. It may hurt at first but then, I promise, it will feel just as heaven."

Rugged hands make their way up and around your hips as his face stays flush against your tender chest. He was ready to devour you. The wolf man looked up into your eyes, and all of the things you felt this instant caused your fears to melt away, just as you had in his embrace.

Gently, he laid you down onto the flowers below, the wet petals cold against your burning skin.

You looked like something out of a dream, skin glowing in the moonlight, hands covering your breasts, legs barely closed. Your pretty eyes searched, long lashes clumped with tears and dry blood. You looked unreal. Erotic. And all his.

"Spread your legs for me." it wasn’t a request, it was an order. and you obeyed. Spreading your legs you give him a full view of you dripping cunt, and the wolf man throws his head back with a low groan.

He kneels in front of you on the earth, pulling you so that your thighs are right over his, your puffy lips now on full display. Two of his digits make their way up to your mouth. "Suck." you comply.

After that was done, his calloused fingers make their way between your folds, gathering up the juices you've been dripping. "My gorgeous." You whimpered softly and he shushed you, rubbing small circles on your plush thigh with his other hand. He pushes one of his fingers slowly inside, and you can immediately feel it. It didn’t hurt, not yet, it was just strange and new. The second finger comes quick after and he starts pumping, moving them in and out as his lips made contact with your swollen bud, lapping up at the nectar of you. So sweet, the wait was worth it. Your eyes stay wide open as this new feeling washes over you, and you can't help but be ashamed as you let out sounds you didn’t know you could make. He hums against your sopping cunt, eating as if he starved for years while his fingers kept moving faster, faster.

You mewl and writhe before it all comes to an agonizing stop. He pulls his fingers out, looking straight down at you. Keeping eye contact, he licks them and you're sat there, mouth agape. Before you can protest he shoves those same two fingers into your waiting mouth, his other hand now fondling one of your breasts.

"Such beauty, I could only dream of it. Thank you for letting me have you this way, eternally."

You hum around his digits, trying to pull him closer by his waist. He smiles, squishing your face with the sleek fingers he had in your mouth seconds ago. "Impatient girl." Your muffled whimpers only seem to please him.

His broad hand presses flat to your stomach, sliding lower until he’s teasing the entrance of your flower with his leaking tip.

He smirks at the dazed parting of your mouth, the flush creeping down your chest.

The hand at your breast squeezes once rough, before sliding down to hook your thigh high around his hip. You stumble, caught only by the sheer size of him pressing you into the tree behind you.

"Look at you." he breathes, eyes roaming. "Shaking for me, and I’ve barely even started.."

His cock drags heavy against your thigh, hot and insistent. He groans low at the contact, the sound beastly.

"I’ll split you open on this cock, little fawn.." he growls, lips brushing your pebbled nipple. "Fill you so deep you’ll never forget what it feels like. Every time you walk, every time you breathe, you will remember tonight."

His length slid against your soaked folds, teasing and pressing against them but not entering. Your breath hitched, thighs trembling as you tried to buck closer. He only chuckled holding you pinned with maddening patience. This is the cruelest you've seen him so far, you thought.

"Oh.." Your nails dug into his shoulders with useless resistance. "Pleaseㅡ" you whispered.

"Please what?" He tilted his head, grinding the thick head of his cock against you, just enough to make you cry out. "Say it, little fawn."

Your cheeks burned, your voice cracked. "Please, inside! Iㅡ I need you inside of me!"

"Do you want my seed inside of you?" His words were sharp. "Do you want to be bred full of my pups, so everyone in that wretched village knows who you belong to?"

Shame and heat tangled in your chest, and you sobbed. Your legs wrapped tighter around him.

"Yes!" you gasped, frantic tears streaking your face. "Yes, please, I want itㅡ I want your pups."

Thats all he had to hear. He thrust, hard, splitting you wide, dragging a cry of pain from your lips. He tries to kiss your tears away, whispering soft sorrys as he lets you adjust, but he can hold himself back so long while you squeeze so deliciously around him. "My, my, what greedy cunt you have, pretty.. Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

He moved a bit shallow at first, ragged control making his body shake. But soon the beast broke loose.

His hips slammed forward, burying himself to the hilt, the sound of flesh on flesh ringing sharp in the night. "Oh, g-god.." You clawed at him, overwhelmed. "I am your only god, l-little fawn." You could feel him in your stomach, the sheer size of him forming a small mound in your belly.

My what hunger.

Each thrust was forcing a whimper from your throat. Your legs were now up on his broad shoulders. "TㅡToo much!" you gasped though your legs locked tighter around him, keeping him there.

"No. Not enough." he growled, breath hot against your ankles. "I’ll give you every drop. You’ll take it— you’ll take all of me, yes?"

He bit down on your shoulder, hard enough to break skin and enough to leave a mark. His pace turned brutal, unrelenting, like he was carving his claim into your very bones.

Yet even as your cries broke in his ear, he murmured "I’m sorry, my sweet."

Your body gave in before your mind could catch up, heat sparking low in your belly, your cries changing into something else entirely.

You didn’t even realize you were begging until the words spilled out shameless. "Please— Oh, don’t stop, don’t stop!"

He wasn't going to stop. Not anytime soon at least.

Each thrust was a strike of thunder, his hips slamming into you until the bark of the tree dug into your back leaving bloody marks.Your nails scored red trails across his shoulders, pleas spilling broken from your lips between sobs and moans you could no longer tell apart.

His breath came ragged, harsh growls rasping from his throat with every plunge. He pressed his forehead to yours, sweat and blood mixing where your skin met.

"You feel it, don’t you? How tight you are— how you take me? You were made for me, look, look how you are swallowing me whole."

He bit down on the tender place beneath your ear, pulling another moan from you as his hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise.

"I’ll fill you" he swore, voice breaking rough and desperate. "I’ll put my pups inside you, make you heavy with me." He grunts.

Fluster burned your cheeks even as you nodded wildly. "Yes—yes, please, I want it, oh, I want you to!"

His rhythm faltered, hips grinding harder, deeper, drilling into you with no mercy. "Oh, my brave, brave girl.." The wolf huffs.

The sounds tearing from his chest were no longer words, only ragged growls. You felt him swell inside you, thicker, stretching you wider than before.

"WhㅡWhat is happening?" your voice broke with panic, unsure if what you were feeling was right. He buried his face against your neck, teeth grazing your skin where he had bit it earlier.

"Don’t fight it. You’re mine now. All of you. I will keep you filled until it takes."

The pressure inside you built unbearably. You whimpered, pussy clenching around him. With a few more moves of his hips he came undone. his knot swelled fully, locking you to him, stretching you open around the thickest part of him. Pain lanced through your body until were crying out with each frantic jerk of his hips.

"Ah—don’t, I—" Your protest dissolved into a sob as his hand cupped the back of your head, forcing your gaze into his large eyes.

"Yes." he growled, forehead pressing hard against yours. "Take it! Take me, carry me!"

The knot throbbed inside you, his release flooding deep, searing heat that wouldn’t stop. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

"Mine. My little fawn. You’ll never escape me now. This.. Oh, you are my gift of the moon.."

The world was still. Just the two of you tangled together beneath the watchful moon. you felt so full it was almost unbearable, yet your body no longer fought him.

He started brushing the tangled hair from your face with one palm, the other smoothing across the curve of your back where your skin was scratched.

"You did so well. My brave fawn."

Tears stung your eyes, but he kissed them away, mouth gentle now, where as moments before it had been so wild and beastly.

"I’ll never let you go." he pressed another kiss on your swollen lips. "The forests, the rivers, the hills.. they’re yours, all yours. And I’ll guard them. I’ll guard you. Always."

"Stay? Please..stay with me."

His smile was small almost boyish, and so full of warmth it undid you more than his savagery ever could.

"There is nowhere else I’d ever go"

[millimeraki]

The exclusive Masterlist for our favorite government-issued white boy 💕

♠ 500 Days Of Death (4 Parts, Rated E)

[RE2R!Leon / Fem!Reader] Abstract: You find yourself amidst the chaos of the Raccoon City outbreak, barricaded in inside the depths of the R.P.D. with no way out, until a colleague who shouldn't be there appears at the last second.

♠ Safe And Sound (Rated E)

[ID Leon / Fem!Reader] Part of Kinktober 2025 - Prompt: Somnophilia Abstract: During a restless night, Leon can't help but be drawn in by how peacefully you are sleeping next to him.

♠ Late Night Talks (Rated T)

[DI Leon / Fem!Reader] Part of Flufftober 2025 - Prompt: Late Night Talks Abstract: Sleep is out of the question when there's still so much to learn about your boyfriend Leon S. Kennedy

♠ Milli's Missionverse (3 entries to date)

[RE9!Leon / CIA Agent!Fem!Reader] The home of my Leon Kennedy × CIA!Reader universe

♠ 9 Days To Requiem (event, 4 entries)

[RE9!Leon / Fem!Reader] My contributions to 9 Days to Requiem

♠ Dinner Reservation (Rated E)

[RE9!Older!Leon / Fem!Reader] Abstract: Leon got a reservation at an exclusive, upscale restaurant. You make it a point to dress up for the occasion - Maybe a little too well.

♠ Morning Haze (Rated E)

[RE9!Leon / Wife!Reader] Abstract: Watching your husband sleep so peacefully gives you an idea. Just how deeply is he really sleeping?

[redpagetabs]

ALL OF MY SENSES | Leon S. Kennedy

Part 1

Pairing: Post-RE4!Leon (28) x Fem!Reader (27). No established relationship

Synopsis: The year is 2005. You were hired as a field analyst at USSTRATCOM and have your eyes on an elite field agent named Leon Kennedy. The first mission you’ve been assigned to has you meeting new faces and running into Leon more, who happens to be on the same team as you. You find yourself learning whether coworkers can also be friends, and fighting against your growing desires for the handsome agent on your team.

Tags/CW: MDNI, smut (fantasies while f masturbating, eventual full smut in future parts), slow burn, angst, fake relationship, grinding, physical touch, cursing, annoying ex bf, new characters, immersive story, friendships, workplace, eventual canon-typical violence in future parts, reader is very aware in most cases but has a hard time telling when other people are into her

WC: 11.1k

AN: My debut fic!! This is my baby and I’m so excited to share it with you. Feedback is welcome and appreciated. Especially with the tags, I want to make sure I tagged everything right.

Grab a snack, get cozy, and come with me to fall in love with Leon all over again. ❤️

Spotify Playlist: All of my Senses | Leon Kennedy Mix of more current songs that fit the vibes and 2005 top hits. If you use a different platform for music, feel free to create a playlist there with the same songs and link in comments for others if you like! More songs will be added with future parts of the story.

You've been working in security for the government for a few years and were recently recruited into a top-secret position in the United States Strategic Command, USSTRATCOM for short. The majority of your experience is in analysis; gathering information from field agents, consolidating it, and reporting your findings to government officials to inform their next steps. However, this position requires you to get your hands a little more dirty. You'll be expected to join agents on their field assignments and gather information they may have otherwise missed. You were told the field agents are primarily responsible for eliminating safety threats, though with the unavoidable safety risks that come with this position, basic self-defense training is your first assignment.

The training sessions have been one-on-one with lower-level field agents from various security branches. It's been going well actually, apart from the constant soreness due to your muscles moving in ways they aren't used to. Today, you've been paired with a man around your age named Dustin. He's been a bit more handsy than the other agents, but you chalk it up to his teaching style and the more difficult work you've been doing today.

On a water break, your eyes travel around the training room, glancing at the other agents engaging in their own workout sessions. You've had your eye on one agent in particular, Leon Kennedy, an elite agent who reports directly to the president and has completed unimaginable missions. You'd heard his name come up from time to time in your last position, but didn't know he would be as...attractive as he is. He's been your preferred eye candy during these training sessions, and your eyes are slightly let down when they don't find him in the training room today.

"Ight, let's get back to it," Dustin's words snap you back to your training.

Today, you have been practicing striking in order to create space between you and a potential attacker. Dustin has been able to dodge most of your attempts thus far, and sometimes he even counters them, wrapping you in holds. You're doing what he tells you, but it's just not working out. You start to wonder if you're too slow for this.

"Again," Dustin orders.

Your stance and footing follow his previous instructions, and your dominant hand tries to find his eyes to stun him. Once again, he intercepts your arm and puts you in another choke hold, his face too close to yours.

“C’mon, not again,” he says with the slightest smile, breath against your cheek.

You try to wriggle free, and after many seconds too long, he releases you.

"What am I doing wrong?” You ask, frustration starting to show. “I feel like I'm following everything you told me perfectly."

"What exactly did you tell her to do?" The question comes from an unknown voice behind you. You turn around and see... Leon Kennedy.

"Uhh, hey Kennedy," Dustin starts. His tone seems nervous.

Leon's face is still written with inquisition, waiting for Dustin's answer.

"I'm just teaching her basic striking moves, like I was told to today," Dustin finally responds.

Leon turns to you, eyebrow raised. "What did this guy tell you to do?"

You show him the movements as you speak the instructions you were given.

"I think I just need to be faster," you finish.

Leon moves his focus back to Dustin after your demonstration, his brows furrowed and his tongue pushing up against the back of his bottom lip. He turns back to you and says with a head shake, "Alright, your training's done for today."

"What?" you respond, confused.

"Forget everything you've learned today, go home, and get some rest. You can start fresh tomorrow."

Did you do something that wrong? Training had been going decent enough until today, what gives? You look at Dustin and back at Leon, eyebrows pursed together in confusion and worry.

Leon picks up on this and offers, "You didn't do anything wrong. It's teacher error."

"Oh," your eyes nervously dart to Dustin and back to Leon. "Um... I guess I'll get going then." You nod and head towards the locker room.

Before you go through the door, you glance back to the two men and see Leon seemingly berating Dustin. Weird.

Your training concluded after a couple more weeks, though Dustin was never your trainer again. Seems it was in fact teacher error, because when you learned striking with another trainer, you picked up on it much more easily.

Now that training is over, your coordinator has your first field placement for you. The TLDR of it is suspected cult activity around an abandoned Umbrella facility in rural North Dakota. Before you and the team are sent out there, you have to attend some informational briefings to get caught up on the situation and make plans for executing the mission. The team consists of you, two other field analysts, and three agents, one of which happens to be Leon Kennedy.

You listen intently in these meetings and participate when it makes sense, but you have to admit you also enjoyed drinking up more glances at Leon in this setting. His stoic demeanor draws you in like a moth to a flame. That aside, this cult shit seems pretty fucked up. The mission ahead of you will be no joke, and quite the introduction to this new position of yours.

After one briefing session, Leon comes up to you as you're walking to lunch. "Hey, sorry to break up your training session a couple weeks ago," he smirks a little. "I'm Leon."

You laugh politely, "I'm sure you had a very good reason, Leon. I'm [y/n]. It's nice to formally meet you."

"Likewise," he nods. "So, what do you think of everything so far?"

"It sure is...something. Gonna be one hell of a first mission for me," you chuckle.

"Ah, I can relate to that," Leon responds.

"What was your first mission like?"

"Well," he begins, "my first—and only—day as a cop was the day everything went down in Raccoon City."

Oof. "Oh wow, that is quite the start," you exclaim with an exhale. You’re familiar with the grave details of the horrors that took place there, which were concluded with a missile strike that leveled the city. "I think your first mission might have mine beat. I can't imagine what that was like."

"Well to be fair, we don't really know everything that awaits us in North Dakota," he counters.

"What a comforting thought," you laugh and widen your eyes at him. He returns a chuckle and looks to the ground. His hands are in his pockets, arm muscles accentuated from his wrists to the sleeve of his t-shirt. He reminds you of ice, hard and cool.

"You want to grab lunch with me? I'm going to the café down the road," you offer.

"Nah, I brought my own lunch today. Thanks though," he replies.

"Alright, well I'll see you at the next briefing," you smile and wave before heading out the door.

Another day, another round of briefing and planning. The current session is nearing the end, and one of the other analysts, Cal, a man maybe a bit older than you, is going on about one of his past experiences. It's not even really related to the subjects that were discussed in this meeting, and you're not entirely sure why he's talking about this. He’s done this in other meetings as well. Either he has an elevated sense of self-importance, or an unfortunately impaired sense of situational awareness.

"It was incredible - on my left was agent Ramsey eviscerating the colossal spider, and on my right - the vial we were looking for. You probably can't tell from just looking at me, but I've got some experience in lockpicking. I knew I had to..."

Your chin is resting in your hand and your mind is drifting as the story keeps falling from his mouth with no apparent point, or end, in sight. You take this opportunity to steal a glance at Leon, the smallest of which would be far more satiating than this guy's monologue.

When you look in his direction, however, you find that he was already looking at you, his chin also resting in his folded hands. Your eyes flick back to Cal, feeling as if you'd been busted, but then they slowly find their way back to Leon, who is still looking at you. You smile lightly behind your fingers and raise your brows at him as if to ask, ‘you too?’. He raises his in return and subtly rolls his eyes. You send yours back to the analyst, where they remain until someone points out that it's lunch time.

You head to the door to leave the conference room, excited to decompress with your daily café run, when you're stopped by Cal.

"Hey, newbie," is what you hear from behind. You turn your head to look at him and offer up a "hey" back, and he catches up with you as you're exiting the room.

"Hearing a story like mine probably would've freaked me out if I were in your shoes, and I totally didn't mean for that, so I want to apologize if I scared you. Not every mission is that intense, I swear," he raises his fingers in 'scouts honor'.

It didn't scare you at all actually, but you don't want to make him feel bad. "Oh, don't even worry about it. These briefings are really helping desensitize me to the kinds of sights my future seems to hold," you laugh coolly.

"Oh, but I didn't even finish my story, sweetheart.” Your eye twitches. “I can catch you up over lunch, though I must warn you - it might push you over the edge if you aren't mentally ready."

So an elevated sense of self-importance it is.

"Thank you, but I actually-"

"[y/n]? You coming?" A voice reaches you from further down the hall. It's Leon, walking towards you.

"Um-" you start,

"You're a slow walker. Let's go, I'm starving." Leon adds.

Gathering what he’s is doing, you respond, "Oh..yeah sorry, was just finishing up with Cal." Seems Leon got the situational awareness that Cal was spared. You turn to the analyst, "I'll have to take a rain check, I'm booked for lunch today."

"I don't mind joining you guys for lunch, can fill you both in on the rest of the story then," Cal responds.

"Thanks Cal, but that won't be necessary. I've gotta go over some new-hire stuff with [y/n]. Be seeing you at the next briefing." Leon’s words shut down any future attempts Cal might have made, and he grabs your hand to speedwalk the two of you out of the building, muttering more about how hungry he is.

Leon releases your hand once you make it outside and looks down at you. His eyes are squinting from the sun, and he's wearing a knowing smirk.

You burst out laughing, and he joins in with a few laughs himself.

“Dang, there’s those elite agent skills I’ve heard so much about,” you start.

“It’s why they pay me the medium bucks,” he responds, making you giggle again.

"Come on, we better get to the café before he catches up," you say casually, but deep down you’re really hoping he joins you this time.

The corner of Leon's mouth lifts. "I suppose I kinda have to join you now, don't I?" He puts a hand over his brow to shield his eyes from the beaming sun while he looks at you.

"Well, how else am I gonna get my new-hire information?"

"Ah, good point. Guess we better get going then."

The walk to the café started with light conversation about food, and evolved into heated debate about the best coffee order.

“I’m telling you, I get an iced caramel latte from every coffee place I’ve gone to ever, and you can really tell the vibe of the place from how they make theirs. I’ve never had a latte from one place that tasted the same as a latte from another place.” You argue soulfully.

“And I’m telling you, black coffee, maybe with a smidge of creamer, is the only reasonable way to determine the quality of an establishment. You can’t fight me on this.” Leon retorts.

“Oh I promise you, your facts and logic are no match for what I feel in my heart. So, it’s actually you that can’t fight me on this.” 

The bell on the door jingles as you open it to enter the café.

“Ah, there’s [y/n]. Same thing today, I venture?” The barista with the cool tattoos you see almost every day greets you.

“Hi, yes please. And whatever this guy wants - I owe him one.” You motion to Leon.

“Yeah, I don’t think so lady.” Leon protests with a shake of his head, and you’re not that surprised. But lucky for you, you’re still in an arguing mood.

“Oh please, just let me thank you this one time. You have all your life to buy your own black coffee with a smidge of creamer.”

“Nice try, but you really can’t fight me on this one,”

“What can I get for you, sir?” The barista interjects, probably done with this back and forth.

Leon looks up at the menu, and you sneakily slip the barista enough cash to cover your and whatever Leon’s order ends up being.

“I’ll take a medium coffee and a grilled chicken wrap, please,” he states as he pulls out his wallet.

“Great, you’re good to go then,” the barista responds.

Leon hands the barista cash, and the barista waves it away as Leon registers what they had said. He looks at you with his brows furrowed together in question. You smirk and turn on your toes to go sit down at a small table with two chairs.

Leon joins you at the table. “You get free food here or something?”

“Nope, just slipped the barista some money while you were looking at the menu. Don’t worry, I included enough for a tip, too.” You give him a wink.

“Oh, you’re trouble,” Leon huffs.

“Hey, you can get me back another time. No pouting.”

“Fine.” Leon crosses his arms and sits back.

“...It looks like you’re pouting.”

“I’m plotting my revenge. It’s different.”

“Fine.” you smirk and mirror his posture.

After a few moments of feigned juvenile silent arguing, your food and drinks arrive.

“Wanna try my latte?” You offer.

“Sure, if you try my coffee.”

“I can already tell you I won’t like it.”

“Same goes for yours.”

You stare at each other.

“Fine let’s do it.” You say.

You switch cups and both contort your faces once the drinks hit your tongues.

“Oof, that’s hot. And so bitter it sucks the joy from my tongue. You willingly drink this??”

“Yours is so sugary I’m surprised it’s not called caramel milk with coffee flavor.”

You switch cups again and sip your respective drinks.

“Much better,” you say in unison, chuckling at the accidental jinx.

You both start going to town on your food. Your eyes gaze outside the window while you sip your latte, observing the bustling street and how it contrasts in comparison to this peaceful moment inside the café. Sitting in silence with Leon doesn’t feel awkward at all, and neither of you rush to say something to fill the empty air.

Perhaps because the air wasn’t actually empty. The atmosphere during your time together today has been surprisingly easy and playful. It feels almost natural being around him. You want to know more about him, but you’re also enjoying soaking up whatever this moment already is. Plus, it’s not like this is a first date or anything in which get-to-know-you questions are swapped. Hmm, it would be nice to go on a date with Leon…

Nope, head back to the present. Coworkers are off limits. You blink a few times to get yourself back out of your thoughts and look back at Leon, who is also gazing out the window, a sliver of a light reflection bouncing off his cheek.

“What do you think of DC?” You ask. “Probably a bit different from Raccoon City, hm?”

Leon’s gaze remains out the window. “Well I’m not actually from Raccoon City, that was just my placement after graduating from the police academy.”

“Ah, so really, you’ve only been to Raccoon City for a day.”

“Bingo.” He continues looking out the window. You get the feeling that this isn’t a preferred topic for him, so rather than pressing further, you think of a way to steer the conversation.

“The busyness of the city is nice sometimes, but part of me wants to live in a small, rural community,” you start. “Not too realistic with our jobs, though.”

“Yeah, not really, unless an hour-plus-long commute interests you.” His eyes float back to you.

“Yeah that’s a no from me,” you respond.

You take the last bite of your food and Leon does the same.

“Should we finish our drinks here or on the go?” You ask.

“Woah there, we haven’t even gotten to your new-hire information,” Leon responds.

You huff a laugh. “You serious?”

“Super serious.”

You study his face for any signs of sarcasm. “Interesting. Well, hit me with it then.”

“On second thought, this might not be the most ideal setting. Drinks to-go it is.” He nods and stands up with his drink.

“Sir yes sir,” you gesture a salute and follow Leon out the door.

The two of you make it back to the building and Leon leads you to his office at the end of a hallway, giving you a nice view of his muscular back. Shut up.

The office itself isn’t anything special, apart from the fact that he has his own office. Sure beats the cubical farm where you do your work. The room is dimly lit by a single desk lamp.

“I normally just work with just this thing on, can’t stand the hum of the fluorescent lights. But I can turn them on if this is unsettling,” Leon offers.

“No I’m with you, if I had the option my setup would be the same.”

Leon motions for you to take a seat in the chair across from his desk, then sits in his chair after closing the door.

“So, what’s this important new-hire information you got for me?” you inquire, genuinely curious.

“Hey now, I never said it was important.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. He smirks in response.

“I just thought I could give you a brief overview of our team members.”

“Ooo, that would be great actually,” you respond, eager to learn more about your coworkers from Leon’s perspective.

“We can start with Cal, since the two of you are already best buds.”

You glare at Leon, earning another smirk from him.

“Guy’s a great analyst, but he doesn’t always know when to stop talking. If he finds–or makes–his way into a topic he wants to talk about, you’ll probably be stuck there for the next 20 minutes. Unless you’ve got some finesse.”

“Like the kind you demonstrated earlier,” you point out.

“Well, typically I go for the other option: not caring if I offend him and telling him to scram.”

“Cold.”

“Necessary,” he corrects. “And I think he’s used to it at this point. I recommend starting early to set a precedent.”

You sigh at the thought.

“Teresa is also a great analyst, and pretty much the opposite of Cal. She doesn’t talk often, but when she does, it’s relevant and helpful. She’s definitely a thinker.”

“Seems the two balance each other out,” you observe.

“You could say that. Teresa is also the oldest on the team and has a lot of experience in the position, so she’d be a great person to go to for advice if you need it.”

“Good to know, thank you,” you nod with appreciation. “How about the agents?”

“Jasmine is full of passion and energy. She seems to have really found her calling as an agent. You can always trust that her actions come from the motivation to make things right.”

“She sounds like a good one to look up to,” you say.

“Definitely. And she prefers honesty and directness, so don’t tip-toe around things with her.”

“Noted.”

“And I know the least about Vincent since I’ve only been on one other team with him, but from what I’ve seen, he’s a solid agent who gets shit done. He seems to prefer to do things independently, but he works well on a team, too.”

You soak in all this new information. “I really appreciate this, thank you.”

Leon nods.

“I think you’re forgetting an agent, though,” you point out.

He raises an eyebrow briefly before he realizes you’re talking about him. “Ah, Kennedy.” Leon leans forward, placing his elbows and forearms on his desk. “Whatever you do, do not follow him into his office.”

Your mouth falls open with the corners slightly upturned. He laughs, which causes you to start giggling as well.

“Oh, and I believe there’s one more analyst you missed,” you note, coyly.

Leon smiles and sits back in his chair. “Ah yes, I’ve worked with her the least, but from what I can tell, she’s settling into the position nicely. Her coffee taste is questionable, but nothing that can’t be fixed.”

You stand up from your chair and point at him, “I don’t want to be fixed, you bum!”

Leon smiles again, “Bum?” He grabs at his heart in faux pain and you turn on your heel to leave. 

Stopping at the door, you turn back to him. “Seriously though, thanks for today. I’ll see you at the next meeting.” You smile and exit the room.

Back at your apartment that night, you’re sitting on your couch watching one of your guilty pleasures and munching on popcorn. You’re not fully paying attention to the screen though, as your head is somewhere else thinking about the activities that the day had brought. You had a lot of fun during your time with Leon. He’s a funny guy underneath his icy demeanor. You find yourself hoping to develop a close working relationship with him.

Just then, your phone buzzes, shaking you out of your thoughts. You glance at the screen to see it’s your ex. Again.

“wyd?” The text reads. You don’t plan on answering it. Back to your show.

A couple minutes later, another buzz. “[y/n], I miss u.”

You let out a voluminous sigh. You don’t have unlimited texting, though it’s not like it would matter if you did, since the last fifty messages you sent him telling him to leave you alone have obviously not had an effect.

Buzz. “1 mistake shouldnt separate soulmates” 

You laugh out loud reading that one. You respond, “youre right. cant wait to find mine”. You could cough up 10 cents for that text.

Buzz. “babyyyy”

Eyeroll. Eight months. It’s been eight months since you caught him cheating and immediately ended things. Eight months, and he still isn’t leaving you alone. You’re exhausted, and there is no part of your heart, mind, or body that still wants anything to do with this man.

Buzz. “i know how 2 get u 2 forgive me ;)”

He can’t be serious. How you spent two years with him and not seen through the bullshit, especially given your line of work, astounds you.

You move to get ready for bed and try to distract yourself with your thoughts. You find yourself wondering if Leon is in a relationship and what his history is like. You wonder how he treats a woman, and start fantasizing about how he might treat you. What sort of things make him squirm, and what his touch might do to you…

Your core is heating up as these thoughts persist. It’s also been eight months since you’ve been intimate with someone, and your body longs for that type of connection again.

Now you’re snuggled up under your covers, lights off, phone silenced. Sure, coworkers are off-limits, but there’s nothing wrong with a little fantasy. You allow your dirty mind to run wild. 

You’re under Leon’s desk with your lips around his throbbing cock. His breaths are getting heavier as you bring him closer to the edge. You start touching yourself in response, letting out moans while your mouth is full of his hard member. Leon pushes his chair back, taking himself out of your mouth, and lifts you up to place you on your back on his desk. He rips off your bottoms and leans his body over yours to make out with your raw lips while he lines himself up at your dripping entrance. He pushes himself in, and you break away from the kiss to let out a moan.

You start touching yourself under your pajama bottoms.

He ruts in and out of you without giving you time to adjust to his length. You grab onto his bulky arms that frame your body as you attempt to take him all in. Leon’s grunts mix with your moans of pleasure. He speeds up his thrusts and you start making tight circles on your clit. The grip of your walls around his cock increases in response, and his pace starts to stutter. Both of you are close. A few more pumps, and Leon spills everything inside of you with a breathy grunt.

Your fingers bring you to your own release.

It’s the last day of meetings before the team officially puts the plan into action, and there’s only one meeting left. You thought you’d be more nervous once you got to this point, but after what has felt like endless amounts of briefing and planning over the last few weeks, you’re ready to just rip off the bandaid. 

The meetings have also allowed you to become more familiar with your teammates. Each member fulfills the duties of their roles eloquently, while bringing their own unique skillsets to the table. After getting a feel for the group dynamics during the first week of meetings, you seemed to find where you and your skills fit into the big picture. It’s been kind of magical actually; being a part of a team in which everyone is working towards a common goal, and seeing plans and backup plans materialize from the information, ideas, and experiences shared by the team members. Your previous work in security had been much more independent, and you’re beginning to quite like the kind of work involved in this position.

You can’t get too far ahead of yourself, though, because despite the amount of planning that went into this mission, no one knows exactly what will be waiting for your team once you get there.

“Alriiight, ready for the last one, [y/n]?” You turn to see Jasmine approaching your cubicle with a bounce in her step, and places her hand on your shoulder while she awaits your answer.

“Just about,” you answer before saving your document and locking your computer. “Alright, let’s get in there.” You stand up and start walking with Jasmine to the conference room.

“So, how’re ya feeling about the fact that your first mission is practically within reach now?” Jasmine asks flippantly, but her question is threaded with genuine interest.

“Honestly? Not nearly as anxious as I thought I’d be. Not sure if that’s good or bad,” you huff a small laugh and look at Jasmine.

She looks back at you. “Doesn’t have to be good or bad. Just let it be.” She looks forward again and shrugs her shoulders. “Even if you get more nervous as we get closer, you know what needs to be done and can get through it. Don’t let your thoughts stop you from action.”

You nod shallowly and breathe in as you think about her words. You both stop walking as you reach the door to the conference room.

“Just my two cents,” she adds and looks at you, placing her hands on your shoulders supportively.

“Thanks Jasmine, that means a lot.”

She nods. “Alright, let’s get in there.” You both walk into the meeting room.

Leon and Teresa are both seated at the table already, along with the dispatch coordinator who will be going over the travel plans with the team.

“We’ll get started once the last two show up,” the coordinator states.

At the table, Teresa is nose-deep in a folder, Jasmine appears to be texting on her cell, and Leon is leaning back in his chair with his legs spread, hands behind his head and eyes closed, looking like a straight-up model. Because of course.

You’ve continued going to the café for lunch as normal, though Leon hasn’t joined you again. The guy really likes his packed lunches, and probably more so his alone time, if you had to guess. You don’t blame him–lunch decompressions have always been a high priority for you as well. You also haven’t necessarily asked if he wanted to join you again. The two of you have continued to exchange pleasant greetings, which now contain a sliver of more connection thanks to the one-on-one time you spent with him last week.

You then hear chatting from down the hall approaching the meeting room. Cal walks in, seemingly in the middle of another story, and Vincent at his side, looking for all the world as if he’s been drained of his life force. The two take their seats, and the dispatch coordinator gets right into it, casually cutting Cal’s story off.

“Okay team, let’s get started on this right away so we can get you out of here as soon as possible.”

“Want to get rid of us that bad, hm?” Jasmine jests.

“Knowing you agent Powers, you want to get onto the next step the most,” the coordinator fires back at Jasmine, looking at her over his glasses.

“Yeahhh, you right,” she admits and leans back in her chair, inviting the coordinator to continue.

The coordinator clears his throat. “I’ll give you the grand overview. The folders in front of you contain all the extraneous details you could possibly need.” He gestures to the folders and continues. “Your flight out of DC leaves at 6:03 AM on Sunday, so you’ll need to get to the airport pretty early. No partying Saturday night,” he glares at Jasmine once again over his glasses. Jasmine rolls her eyes.

“You’ll have a layover in Chicago for about an hour, then your flight to Bismarck will take off at 8:11 AM, central time. You’ll land in Bismarck around 10:30 AM, where you’ll pick up the two vehicles you’ll be taking to your hotel, about 3 hours away. Leon will be driving the Jeep, and Jasmine will be driving the 4Runner. Check-in at the hotel isn’t until three o’clock, so you may decide to explore the surrounding areas a bit leading up to that. Or take an extended lunch on your way up, I don’t care.”

Hearing all of this is suddenly making it feel more real. You feel a tiny pit in your stomach starting to grow, but keep your focus on the coordinator.

“After three, you’re free to check in. Each of you have your own rooms, so you’ll of course have to check in one at a time. From there, the mission is at the mercy of you and your plans.” The coordinator looks up from his notes and around at everyone listening.

You breathe in more deeply, silently.

“Oh, and we have you booked there for five days, but if you need longer for whatever reason, reach out and we can get the departure plans adjusted.” The coordinator concludes. “Any questions right away?”

The whole team remains silent, even Cal. You’re digesting the information, but don’t have any glaring questions on your mind.

Vincent is the first to respond. “None from me. Thanks, Tom.” Agreement and additional thanks from the team ensue.

“Of course. I’ll give you folks some time to review the folders and I’ll hang out if you have any follow-up questions.”

After going through the folders and asking Tom a few clarifying questions, the team began engaging in chitterchatter amongst themselves. Tom wished the team luck and excused himself from the meeting room.

“Feels weird that we won’t be coming back here on Monday,” you note.

“Yeah, and on top of that, we get to work on a Sunday,” Leon adds sarcastically.

“I think you mean traveling and road tripping with friends on a Sunday,” Jasmine corrects.

“Coworkers are not friends,” Vincent chimes in.

“Aw c’mon, you’re my friend, Vinny,” Cal puts his arm around Vincent’s shoulder. Vincent shuts his eyes in defeat.

“Coworkers can be friends,” Jasmine shoots back at Vincent. She then gasps as if she’s thought of a brilliant idea. “We should do some teambuilding before we take off on Sunday.”

“Jasmine, it’s three o’clock and we’re all pretty much ready to go home for the weekend,” Leon mentions, begrudgingly.

“I second that,” Teresa announces.

Jasmine groans. “People, it wouldn’t be one of those boring work teambuilding exercises.”

“Then what would it be? I am leaving the walls of this building no later than 3:30,” Leon presses.

“I’m leaving now,” Teresa goes to stand up, and Jasmine promptly pulls on her arm to make her sit back down.

“Nope, no one’s leaving just yet. Hear me out.” Jasmine’s eyes dart around intensely across all team members. “We are all going clubbing tonight.” Her announcement is delivered matter-of-factly. She closes her eyes, folds her arms, and sits back in her chair, awaiting the fanfare.

“I am SO down!!” Cal slams his fists on the table.

“Not happening,” Leon responds.

“Yeah I’m definitely leaving,” Teresa moves to get up again and Jasmine presses her back down.

“Come onnnnnn,” Jasmine groans. “Hear me out again,” she pauses. “It will be…fun.”

“Oh you should’ve started with that, count me in,” Leon replies.

“Really?!” Jasmine perks up.

“No.”

Jasmine’s head falls back and she lets out another groan. “I’m sorry everyone, but I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer. As your team leader-”

“We don’t have a team leader,” Vincent interjects.

“As your implied team leader in spirit,” Jasmine continues, “a night to let loose and get to know each other better and have FUN is exactly what this team needs before shit gets serious again.”

“I’m with Jasmine, need I remind you all that we could literally die on this mission?” Cal adds. You observe everyone else on the team groaning in response, even Jasmine.

“Too far, Cal,” Jasmine responds.

“Oh I said the forbidden phrase,” Cal waves his hands in the air frivolously, “but as much as we hate to admit it, it’s true. I’m not saying we need to be reckless because of it, but we do deserve some fun.”

It’s silent for a moment, then Jasmine adds, “and I think a night like this is especially important since we have a brand new team member,” she looks at you, “all the more reason to have some bonding time, plus it’s two freaking days until [y/n]’s first mission ever, which is a major cause for celebration.”

The team has shifted their focus to you which causes your face to feel hot. You look around at everyone, and their silence tells you that they’re all actually thinking about the possibility. You sense that your input will move the needle one way or another. You’ve only been clubbing a couple times and don’t drink often, but you can’t deny that you think it would actually be fun. You’ve enjoyed your time with the team so far, and it would be nice to get to know them better outside of the professional setting. And you can’t argue that celebrating before your very first mission seems fitting. Especially since…y’know…you could……die…

Vincent speaks up with a sigh, “Well, it’s not like I had other plans tonight. If that’s how [y/n] wants to celebrate, I’ll tag along for a bit.”

“What do you think, [y/n]? You in??” Jasmine asks, seeking your stamp of approval.

You take a breath in, considering all of your previous thoughts. “You know what? Yeah, let’s party tonight.”

“YAAAAA that’s what I’m talking about!!” Jasmine cheers, raising the roof.

You look to Leon and Teresa, who have yet to announce their final attendance choice.

“Fuck it. You only get one first mission. I’ll join.” Leon states. Your heart flutters in response, against your mind’s will.

Teresa sighs, “I am too old for this.”

“You only have to come for 10 minutes and I’ll buy all of your drinks for you,” Jasmine quickly proposes.

“Deal.”

“YESSSS THAT’S MY TEAM!!” Jasmine roars, standing up and flexing her arms together in celebration. You giggle at her excitement, which is very contagious.

“Scooters, eleven PM, and if you don’t show, I will pluck out all of your nose hairs one by one.” Jasmine winks, throws up a peace sign, and trots out of the room. The rest of the team looks around at each other.

“God, that’s so late,” groans Teresa.

“I could actually use some nose hair plucking,” Cal adds.

It’s a little after ten PM and you’re digging in your closet to find something fitting for tonight’s occasion. You’ve done up your hair and makeup more than normal, but as anticipated, you’re struggling with what to wear. Since graduating college, your outfits have been much more professional-leaning, and you’re starting to wonder what your current style even is.

Your phone buzzes, prompting you to remove your head from your closet. A text. 

It’s your ex. Who else would it be? “club hoppin downtown” Another buzz. “come dance with me 2nite ;)”

You blink at your phone screen a few times. There are several clubs downtown, the chances of running into him are slim, right? Your hand involuntarily finds your nose hairs.

You force yourself to snap out of it. “Nope, you’re not ruining a perfectly fine night, Bradley,” you say aloud. You’re both adults, he just happens to be…himself. Which isn’t bad for most people, but Bradley is an exception. 

Shaking the bad vibes from your head, you return to your previous problem - your outfit. Digging into the depths of your closet, you stumble upon one of your favorite little black dresses from college. Little black dresses are always in style, you think to yourself. Let’s just hope she still fits…

You slither into the velvety minidress, guiding everything into place. It’s tighter than you remember, but it’s on. Looking in the mirror, you notice how the dress hugs your womanly curves more than it did the last time you wore it, the tiny specks of glitter shimmering as you turn to check yourself out. The fit makes the dress look more suggestive than it once felt on you, but you actually like it. The heels you reach for are red-orange ones - also from college - that add the perfect pop of color. You add a necklace, bracelet, and earrings to complete the look, along with your favorite perfume. 

Buzz. Another text.

“Oh my god shut UP!” you plead with your phone. However, when you look at the screen, you see that this text is from Jasmine.

“need a ride? got a friend to dd for me tonite”

With your apartment being in the heart of downtown DC, you’re actually within walking distance from Scooters. But the heels…yeah maybe a ride would be nice.

“that would be amazingggg” you reply.

Buzz. “kk send me the addy”.

You respond with the name and location of your apartment complex and resume your preparations for the night.

“Thaaaanks Joshy,” Jasmine says as she closes the door of her friend's car. The car drives off into the night, leaving you and Jasmine standing outside of Scooters, Jasmine now getting a better look at your outfit. “Woah girl, you look HAWT. See, this is why teambuilding is so important. How else would I have known you were a bombshell?!”

You giggle at her compliments and shoot them back to her, “You kidding? Did you see yourself before you left?”

She pulls you in for a side hug, “Awww this is the best. Let’s get in there now.”

The music is blasting and the bass is booming as soon as you enter through the doors, the sensations becoming stronger the closer you get to the main area of the club. Lights are flashing in various shades of blue, red, green, and is that purple? A smoke machine fills pockets of the dance floor, and the DJ is guiding the crowd through the waves of the current song. You observe all sorts of people on the floor; packs of girlfriends, groups of guys, and pairs of people dancing and grinding up on each other.

“Let’s grab a table first, maybe someone’s already here,” Jasmine suggests. You nod and walk with her to the booths that line the walls.

“I don’t see anyone yet…” Jasmine notes, “but it’s still a little early. Let’s sit here and I’ll text everyone where we’re at.” Both of you sit down at an empty booth and Jasmine starts punching away at the keypad on her phone. She’s a fast texter.

You continue your observations of the scene, when you notice Cal tearing it up on the dance floor.

“I see Cal,” you giggle. “He is not neglecting any of his limbs out on that floor!” Jasmine follows your gaze and smiles with amusement.

“We can let him do his thing while we wait for the others. You good here while I go grab some drinks for the table? I’m gonna need one for Teresa as soon as she gets here.” Jasmine explains.

“Yeah I’ll hold it down for us,” you reach for some cash from your purse. “Could you get me a long island please?”

Jasmine declines your money with a wave. “Let me get you this one to celebrate your first mission,” she says with a smile.

“Aw, thank you Jasmine,” you respond gratefully.

“Of course. BRB!”

You return your attention to the pandemonium within the club. You’re not usually one to directly participate in social settings, but you’ve always enjoyed watching and being involved from the side. And in a place like this, there isn’t a shortage of sights to take in.

After a few moments of looking around, you notice Vincent and wave him over.

“Hey, long time no see,” you jest when he approaches the table. 

He huffs a laugh in response. “Can’t believe I actually let myself get talked into this.”

If you had to guess, he appeared to be in his early thirties. Partying was probably a thing of the past for him, if he ever partook in the first place. 

“I know, this isn’t usually my scene either, but it did sound kind of fun,” you admit. The tables are far enough away from the music that you don’t have to scream your words, but you do have to speak louder than normal.

Jasmine returns with the drinks, managing to hold hers, yours, and Teresa’s in her hands. “Oh hey Vincent! I would’ve grabbed one for you if I knew you’d be here when I got back.”

Vincent chuckles, “I don’t know if you could have.”

You graciously accept your drink and start sipping on it. Jasmine sits next to Vincent in the booth after he scooches over. She asks him if he’d run into Cal yet, and the three of you admire Cal’s dance moves from afar.

The song transitions, and you see Cal making his way to exit the dance floor. At the same time, Teresa approaches the table. She’s wearing a cocktail dress, a denim jacket, and low-top converse.

“Clock starts now,” Teresa reminds Jasmine that she is only staying for ten minutes.

“Already got you your first drink,” Jasmine motions to the glass and Teresa takes it promptly. She’s downing the liquid surprisingly fast. “Oh, and clock starts once everyone is here,” Jasmine winks.

Teresa takes a break from her sipping to glare at Jasmine, who shrugs at her cheekily. You move in the booth to allow for Teresa to sit next to you, but before she does, Cal sneaks up from behind her with a “boo!”. Teresa didn’t move a peep and shot an unamused glare at Cal, causing the table to start laughing.

“Hey chums! Finally you’re here, I’ve been killing it out there,” he says, slightly out of breath with his hair clinging to the sweat on his forehead.

“Oh we saw you, we didn’t want to interrupt your magic,” Jasmine responds.

“So generous,” Cal bows. “Just waiting on Leon then?”

“Yep, should be here any minute now from his text,” informs Jasmine.

“Okay, I’m gonna get shots for everyone,” Cal makes a beeline to the bar.

Your drink seems to be going right through you, so you offer Teresa to sit down in your place while you take a brief trip to the restroom. As you’re walking off, you hear Jasmine update Teresa that her timer starts once you’re back from the bathroom, even if Leon shows up before you.

You move with the bumping of the music and between the rays of colored lights as you carve your way to the restroom. As you’re looking around, you see a familiar-looking silhouette that sends a shiver up your spine, its owner looking a lot like your ex, Bradley. Just perfect. Guess you’ll be practicing your stealth skills at this teambuilding. You make sure your face is never within his view and keep your back to him as much as you can, sliding between groups of people until you successfully make it to the bathroom unseen.

After doing your business, you knew you’d have to exit the bathroom just as stealthily. Operating on the assumption that Bradley is in the same spot, you use the same methods to attempt to go unnoticed once again. While your head is crooked to the right, you accidentally run into someone that was coming from the left. Oh god, do NOT be Bradley.

You turn to look at the person so you could apologize, and see that it’s…Leon. Your heart flips in your chest and your words get stuck in your throat for a beat.

“-oh god, Leon, I’m so sorry,” you manage. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Stepping back, you get a better view of him. He’s wearing baggy, dark wash jeans and a tight black t-shirt that accentuates his muscles perfectly. He looks mouthwateringly hot. Your eyes return to his, and you see his find yours at the same time. His lips are parted, and his words take a beat to come out, too.

“[y/n],” he says, then a brief pause and blink. “No, I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking either,” he lets some air out in a short laugh that breaks some of whatever tension was just there.

Another brief moment passes as you both look at each other, then you say, “We should get to the table, come on I’ll show you where we’re at.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The two of you arrive at the table and you say, “Look who I ran into on my way back.”

Leon says “literally” out of the smirk in the corner of his mouth, just loud enough for you to hear. You suck in your lips to prevent a giggle from escaping.

Jasmine and Cal celebrate Leon’s arrival, and Jasmine promptly notifies Teresa that the timer will start once Vincent gets back from the bar. Teresa groans and takes her shot in one gulp.

“Heyyy, we were all gonna do shots at the same time,” Cal complains to her, the two now seated together. You squeeze in next to them, and Leon next to Jasmine.

Vincent soon returns with his drink, which prompts Leon to go get his own from the bar. Teresa puts her forehead to the table before Jasmine says anything this time.

Upon Leon’s return, the six of you are now–finally–sitting together at the table.

Jasmine picks up her shot, “to teambuilding, and to the most kick-ass team in the country!” Everyone clinks their shot glasses together, including Teresa with her empty one, and knocks back the burning liquid.

“To teambuilding!!” echoes Cal. “This certainly beats the actual teambuilding I did with my last team, oh boy is that a story. We-”

“I think it’s time to go dance,” Jasmine cuts him off. You and Leon stand up to let the rest of the team out of the booth.

“I’ll join you guys in a moment, I just need a little more alcohol in my system first,” you laugh lightly, sitting back down.

“Fine, but I expect you out there SOON,” responds Jasmine.

“Same, need more drinks” starts Teresa.

“We’ll stop at the bar on the way over, your clock is ticking and I need you dancing.” Jasmine protests and grabs Teresa’s wrist. Teresa’s limbs and neck go limp in agony.

“I’ll hang back with [y/n],” Leon decides, sitting back in the booth as well. “Still gotta work on my drink, too.”

“Fine fine fine. Everyone else, bar, then dance floor,” Jasmine declares, and the group gets on their way. Vincent makes a playful concerned face back at you and Leon as he follows.

The both of you chuckle and turn your attention back to your drinks. 

“Whatcha drinking this time?” you ask.

“Whiskey,” he takes a sip. “You?”

“Long island. Was crushed when I found out they don’t serve lattes.”

Leon lets air out of his nose into his glass as he takes his next sip. You catch your gaze floating to his biceps, to his forearms, his wrists, and his fingers which hold his drink, then snap your attention away to take a sip of your own.

“Some teambuilding, huh?” Leon smirks.

You chuckle. “Definitely the most…interesting teambuilding I’ve been a part of.” Leon nods and takes another sip.

“It’s fun being with everyone, I’m just not much of a dancer,” you continue.

“Hah, right there with you,” Leon responds.

You start to wonder how old everyone is on the team. Jasmine and Cal in particular have so much energy. "Random question," you start, "do you know how old everyone on the team is?" you ask curiously.

"Hm, I've got a general idea but I could be wrong," his eyes trail off as he thinks. "Teresa is about 36, Vincent about 34, Cal around 32, and I know Jasmine is 30 because she celebrated her thirtieth recently."

"Wow, I totally thought Jasmine was closer to my age or younger with the amount of spark she has," you say.

"Yeah, I think that will always be a part of her," Leon responds. "How old are you?"

"27."

"Ah, I remember those days," Leon says fondly.

"Damn, how old are you?"

"28."

You laugh and punch his arm, earning a giggle from him.

Sending your gaze to the dance floor, you see the group entering the crowd and beginning to move with the music, Cal powering up his limbs. Your view becomes dark when a figure steps in front of it. When you look up to find its face, you are greeted by none other than…Bradley.

“I see you got my text,” Bradley says with a smirk that makes you want to barf.

“Not by choice,” you say and turn your attention back to your drink. “Don’t you have anywhere better to be?”

“Can’t think of anywhere better than with you, princess,” he retorts.

Exhaling with frustration, you place your hand on your brow and move it to your temple in a feeble attempt to separate yourself from this man. You send your gaze across the table to Leon, who looks like he is trying to connect the dots.

You then get an idea. A bad idea, but your inhibitions have been getting weaker with every sip, so before you can stop yourself, you look back at Bradley and say,

“Can’t you see I’m here with my boyfriend?” your hand gestures to Leon, though you can’t bring yourself to look at his face. “Please, for the love of god, go bother someone else.”

Bradley laughs boisterously. “Boyfriend, huh? You moved on pretty fast.”

“Eight months is a bit longer than zero, hm? I recall you ‘moving on’ while we were still together.”

“Babyyy, you know it didn’t mean anything,” Bradley begins to pout pathetically and you let out a groan, returning your head to your hands.

“Buddy, I think it’s time to leave,” Leon speaks up. You dare to peek at him. He’s looking at Bradley with a stern, yet calm face.

Bradley responds, “This is a public establishment, I can hang out wherever I want. Wanna do something about it, tough guy?”

Leon stands up stoically, his toned frame towering over the 5’8” Bradley. “Sure, want to take this outside quick?” he asks, nonchalantly.

Bradley backtracks with his hands up defensively, taking one step away from Leon, “Woah woah woah, I wasn’t talking about anything like that.”

“Ah my mistake, your message wasn’t very clear,” Leon takes a step closer to Bradley. “So let me make myself clear. Leave me and my girlfriend alone.”

Your jaw falls before you can catch it and you bring your hand to cover your mouth. Leon accepted the role you thrust upon him immediately and with grace, and you’re over here swooning internally at his friendly favor. Get it together.

“Yeesh, guess neither of you are fun,” Bradley starts to leave the table. “Who comes to a club to just sit and talk anyway? Losers.” Namecalling is all that unfortunate man has at his disposal.

Leon rolls his eyes and sits back down in the booth once Bradley is out of sight.

“Leon, I am so sorry for throwing that on you,” you begin. “Totally unprofessional of me to do to a coworker,” you start trying to overexplain, another sign that points to your increasing intoxication.

“Hey,” Leon interrupts, “totally fine, guy seems like a real douche.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” you complain, sinking deeper into the booth. “I think you really scared him off though, so he might actually leave me alone tonight. Thank you, so much.”

“No problem at all.”

You take a long sip from your drink, which is almost gone. “I almost didn’t come when he texted me telling me to come to the clubs tonight. I just can’t get him off my back no matter what I try. I was worried if he saw me, it would only add fuel to his constant pursuit of me.”

Leon nods, taking another sip of his drink as well. He doesn’t say anything, and you’re worried you’ve been talking too much. 

He breaks the silence. “Want me to help get the message across?”

Does he mean punching Bradley or? “I couldn’t ask that of you, you’ve already done more than enough.” You avert your gaze back to your drink.

“You can ask that of me, and I would be happy to assist.”

Looking back up at him, you ponder for a moment. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

After finishing the last of his whiskey, Leon sets his glass down. “He might’ve been right about one thing,” he looks you straight in the eyes, “if we’re a couple, we should be out there dancing - together.”

Your heart skips. His words reach your ears, but not your brain.

Leon must see your gears turning and adds, “I’m just saying, we could play the part for a little longer, dance for a bit within his view, and that should show him that you are not to be fucked with anymore.”

You continue thinking, but in understanding and consideration this time. It does sound like a great idea, but dancing with Leon…

“We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, I’m just-”

“Let’s do it.”

Leon laughs, “yeah?”

“Yes,” you stand and finish your drink, setting your empty glass on the table with determination. “Come on, my darling boyfriend, join me on the floor,” you extend your hand to him.

A smile grows on Leon’s face before accepting your hand and standing up with you. “Of course, my dearest girlfriend,” he bows and you giggle in response.

The two of you make your way to the dance floor, careful to not catch the attention of your other coworkers. Thankfully, the crowd is large. You both look for Bradley to make sure he will have a view of you. After a minute, you’ve located your target, and you position yourselves perfectly within his sight while still being in the rest of the crowd and away from the team.

“Sooo…” you look at Leon, nervous about the incoming next step.

“Ready?” he asks. He doesn’t seem nervous, which helps ease your own nerves. It’s just pretend.

“Ready.”

The music hits a wave and Leon’s hands reach for your waist, then yours for his shoulders. You start moving your bodies with the song, both pairs of eyes looking down to watch both sets of hips try to find the beat. Playing a part. Playing a part.

Finding the rhythm, you raise your head and he raises his. You’re looking up at him, and him down at you, and both of you smile and let out a laugh. His once-blue eyes now reflect whatever colors the LEDs are blinking.

“We’re doing it,” you say, impressed with yourself.

“Yeah we are,” the playful smile still across Leon’s face. "And don't look now, but he doesn't seem happy."

You chuckle eagerly.

The two of you continue moving your bodies with the music while holding onto each other. His shoulders feel big and sturdy under your grip, and his hands are strong yet careful against your waist. For some reason, neither of your gazes have left the other’s face. 

As the music keeps mixing in the air, you see his eyes slowly transform from playful to lidded, at the same time as his lips drip from a smile to parted in reverence. A shift in energy you feel, too. Your hands become softer on his shoulders, unbound and gliding around more freely, and the movements of his hands mirror yours, melting into your sides and moving softly up your back. Under the spell of the DJ, your hips become inches apart and your hands trace his shoulders, chest, and the base of his neck. His return to your waist, float to your low back, then find your hips, gently moving them with the beat, and you link your fingers behind his neck in return.

Leon leans in to your ear, “want to make him extra mad?” He pulls back to look for your response.

If you’re honest, you’ve forgotten all about Bradley. Your whole body is swelling in the ecstasy of the moment and all you want to do is whatever Leon has in mind. You nod.

As if on cue, the music catches another wave and Leon guides your hips to turn around. Your back is against his solid chest, and your ass is brushing his pelvis. His hands resume their gentle guiding on your hips following the currents of the song, and your body sinks back into the rhythm. 

Leon leans in to your ear again, and with a low, careful voice, asks “is this okay?”

You turn your head to look up at him. “Yes.”

His eyes lock yours in place, and your hips move more deeply into him. His hands trace lines between your hips and your sides with the motions of the music. You feel like an instrument in his practiced hands. A magnetism continues to pull the two of your gazes together, an electricity buzzing between your bodies. You blink slowly and deeply as you take in the melodies coursing around you. God, has club music always been this sexy…?

“What-” you and Leon stiffen at her voice, “-on Earth is going on here?!” Jasmine asks with astonishment and a shit-eating grin.

Just like that, the enchantment you were in was broken, and the two of you crashed back into reality. Your bodies separate and you exchange a brief look with Leon before turning to explain the situation to Jasmine. However, your words get stuck in your throat again.

“Oh! Yeah, we- it’s a funny story actually, um,” you try to begin. Your face is burning and you don’t understand why you’re so nervous considering the situation has a reasonable explanation. “Sorry,” you take a breath and walk a little further from the commotion so you don't have to yell your words. “My dumbass ex is here and he wouldn’t leave me alone at our table, so I panicked and told him that Leon was my boyfriend.”

“And that led to grinding?” Jasmine questioned, still smiling cheekily.

Leon speaks up, “well, even after that, the guy still wouldn’t leave until I kinda…threatened him,” he grimaces, and you interrupt to continue,

“And he hasn’t left me alone since we broke up, so we decided to make it CLEAR to him that I’m not to be bothered anymore,”

“Which led to our current situation,” Leon concludes smoothly.

“Huh,” Jasmine’s smile yet remains, “that was some pretty convincing work.”

“I’ve heard Leon was a top agent,” you respond with a coy tone to disguise your continued shaken state, “and he definitely used those skills tonight.” Leon huffs a laugh in response.

“Damn, I must’ve missed the sexy dancing training,” Jasmine winks and turns on her heel. “Come on, you two really have to dance with us now.”

The DJ transitions between songs and you desperately need to cool off before you can find yourself ready to dance again. Yeah, you’re warm, but your core is still on fire and it definitely should not be on fire. “I’m so sorry, I just need to run to the bathroom once more, alcohol goes right through me…” you overexplain and Jasmine lets out a groan. “But I promise I will sprint right back here!” You dart towards the bathrooms before Jasmine can protest.

There’s no doubt that the alcohol is coursing through your veins now, and your steps to the bathroom are a bit less graceful than your last trip there. Though you wonder how much of the loss of coordination is due to the alcohol and how much is thanks to the dancing. You feel sick from the pent up lust and need a cold shower, or dick, immediately.

You make it to the restroom and hold yourself up from the counter, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your face is flushed and your eyes give way to the alcohol at work. You take a few deep breaths to ground yourself, and run your hands and wrists under cold water.

It was just pretend. It was just pretend. It was just pretend.

You feel like a creep for reacting this way to Leon’s friendly gesture, which makes you feel overwhelmed in a new way. Guilt. Fuck. Get it together.

You take a few more careful breaths as you try to redirect your mind to the original purpose of the outing tonight. Building relationships with the team members. Celebrating the start of your first mission. Having FUN.

After slowly becoming more and more steady, both in mind and in body, you finally feel ready enough to get back out there and make good on tonight’s purpose.

You open the door to exit the bathroom and see Leon standing a few feet away, apparently waiting for you.

“Hey,” you say with an expectant tone, wondering what he’s doing over here.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” You sense he has more to say, but he hesitates. “And, I’m sorry if the dancing was too much.” His eyes meet yours, and you can see concern written in them.

“Oh my gosh, don’t be sorry at all!” You begin, shocked he would even feel the need to apologize in this situation when he’s been nothing but helpful. “I’m truly sorry for bringing you into this mess in the first place,” you drop your gaze. “I hope I didn’t ruin our teambuilding by making things weird,” you utter bashfully and look back into his eyes.

Leon shows a hint of surprise in his reaction to your words. “Of course not, I suggested we dance in the first place.”

You consider his words. So, does he think the dancing was too far? Does he regret it?

Your head shakes off your thoughts and his words. “We should really join the group on the floor, lest we’re looking to lose some nosehairs.”

Leon huffs a laugh. “Yeah, let’s get out there.”

The whole group celebrates your arrival to the floor. All six team members have formed a mini circle and are finally dancing together. After about twenty, maybe thirty minutes, your body has loosened up and you move more freely. You’re having fun, and even more fun watching your soon-to-be friends express themselves to the music.

Jasmine is by far the best dancer - no surprise there. Her body moves in sync with the beat and her limbs are not shy taking up space. Cal’s limbs also take up space, though not nearly as gracefully. He’s even faux-grinded up on Leon and Vincent a couple of times. Vincent has let loose more than you were expecting, but in a more rigid and contained way than Jasmine and Cal. What you were not expecting was Teresa. Not only has it been well over ten minutes and she’s still here, Teresa has indulged in more drinks than anyone else in the group and has apparently been using them to fuel the borderline breakdancing moves she’s ripping out. They don’t flow as effortlessly and are rigid in their own way, but the woman is moving in dimensions that don’t follow the x, y, or z axis.

As for Leon, you haven’t dared to look at him as much, out of the guilt and embarrassment you couldn’t fully rid. But in the glimpses you did sneak of him, he appeared to be trying to let his limbs get heavier and looser with the pulses of the music, though remaining pretty contained overall.

Vincent is the first to initiate the end of the night, which prompts Leon to tag behind. Their exit brought your attention to the tiredness that had been growing in you. You ask Jasmine if she knows when her friend will be picking her up and if you can still hitch a ride. Teresa complains that everyone’s leaving too early, and Cal agrees. Yet, the end of the night still unfolds.

You make it back safely to your apartment, throw your heels to the side which had been removed upon stepping foot into the building, and flop face-first onto your couch. All the lights are off, the only source of illumination being the glow of the city and the numbers on your oven clock. You shut your eyes for a moment.

Final Notes: Thank you so much for reading! I would love to hear your thoughts and feedback if you'd be inclined to share. Dividers are thanks to @diviniyae!

[littledisasters]

POINT BLANK | CH. 1

Series masterlist AO3 Pairing: RE4!Leon Kennedy x CIA!Reader Summary: You’ve spent your career being the hand that sweeps the world's atrocities under the rug. You’re cynical, you’re tired, and you’re definitely too old for Leon Kennedy’s brand of heroics. There are rules to this job: Don’t get attached. Don’t hesitate. Don’t trust anyone. You break all three somewhere between a dive bar, a hospital room, and Leon Kennedy looking at you like you’re something worth saving. Content: 18+, graphic descriptions of violence, eventual smut, second person POV, no use of Y/N, age gap (older reader), coworkers to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, angst, hurt/comfort, awkward Leon, almost kisses, romantic tension, sexual tension, survivor's guilt, eventual smut, avoidant attachment, past trauma, patching each other up, Comment or DM to join the taglist

October 2006; Langley, VA

The fluorescent lights of the Langley briefing room vibrate at a frequency that feels like a drill pressing into your temples.

You slide into the chair next to Evan, the plastic creaking under your weight, and don’t even bother to take off your sunglasses. The dark lenses are the only thing standing between your splitting headache and the sterile, blinding whiteness of the room.

If the CIA brass expects you to sit through a joint task force meeting looking like a poster child for federal efficiency, they should have given you more than twelve hours on a cargo plane to wash the dirt out from under your fingernails.

You slouch back in the uncomfortable, padded chair, casting a thoroughly miserable side-eye at Evan, who looks entirely too pristine. He is sitting there, tapping away at his encrypted tablet, smelling faintly of laundry detergent and a functioning eight hours of sleep. 

It is deeply offensive.

You lean back, cross your arms, and let out a long, audible sigh that telegraphs exactly how much you want to be anywhere else.

A few STRATCOM members are already scattered around the mahogany table, looking far too polished for nine in the morning. 

Then the heavy double doors swing open, and the atmosphere in the room shifts instantly.

Am an walks in, and you can practically hear the collective indrawn breath of the room's junior analysts. 

He’s dressed in a navy suit, moving with a controlled, athletic grace that screams overachiever. Blond hair, slightly too long to be regulation-perfect. Blue eyes that scan the room quickly—not lingering, not searching for attention, just… clocking exits, people, angles. 

Habit.

He makes the less experienced members of the team turn their heads like he’s a celebrity walking a red carpet. 

To them, he’s a living myth, a ghost story made flesh.

To you, he’s just the guy who’s about to make this meeting thirty minutes longer than it needs to be.

He doesn't play into the attention, though. In fact, he looks slightly uncomfortable with the way the room has gone quiet, offering a small, almost apologetic nod to the senior staff as he makes his way to the only empty chair. 

He’s not swaggering; he’s just... some guy. A guy who happens to look like he’s stepped off a recruitment poster, which only makes your current state—caffeine-deprived and cynical—feel more haggard.

You know the file, though. Everyone in the building does.

Leon S. Kennedy

Raccoon City survivor. STRATCOM’s golden boy. The President’s personal silver bullet for every bio-organic nightmare that crawls out of a test tube. 

He sits directly across from you, his blue eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second with a sincerity that feels out of place in a room full of sharks.

You know the type of man they say he is.

You’re a lot more interested in the one who just sat down like he’d rather be literally anywhere else.

“Tell me we’re not on babysitting duty,” you mumble to Evan, barely moving your lips. “I thought STRATCOM had their own nursery for the ones with nice hair.”

Evan doesn’t even look up from his tablet. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. And why the fuck are you wearing sunglasses indoors? You look like a hungover bodyguard.”

You tip the glasses down just enough to fix him with a bloodshot stare. “I am hungover. And jetlagged, Evan. Which explains the sunglasses, the mood, and why I might bite the next person who speaks above a whisper.”

Without a word, Evan slides his steaming cardboard cup of coffee toward you.The rich, bitter scent of dark roast hits your nose, and for a fleeting second, you feel a faint surge of genuine, gentle affection for the man.

You blink at the cup, then at him. “You’re going soft on me,” you tease, your voice a raspy shadow of its usual self. “Next thing I know you’ll be knitting me a cardigan.”

“I’m just trying to keep you from becoming homicidal,” he counters, still looking at his screen. “For once, I’d like to get through a joint task force meeting without a formal HR complaint. Drink the caffeine and be a professional.”

You take a sip. The bitter heat does wonders for your soul, even if it doesn’t touch the headache.

You and Evan watch the STRATCOM contingent out of the corner of your eyes.

“I thought he’d be taller,” Evan whispers, nodding subtly toward Kennedy.

You snort directly into your coffee, the sound muffled but sharp enough to make a STRATCOM staffer a few seats down look over in disapproval. You flash the suit a venomous glare until he looks away. 

“I just hope there’s some actual skill behind that pretty face. I’m too old to be a glorified nanny. If we have to pull him out of a fire, they better pay me double.”

“There must be something to him,” Evan muses. “The guy’s been through enough viral hellscapes to be a walking petri dish. If he wasn’t good, he’d be a zombie or a puddle of goo by now.”

You let out a dry, cynical breath, staring down at the dark swirling liquid in your cup. Evan isn't wrong, but decades of watching tactical operations dissolve into chaotic bloodbaths because some suit in Washington wanted a political win has completely eroded your faith in the system. You’ve seen too many "heroes" get chewed up and spit out by the meat grinder of black ops.

Evan glances at your empty hands, then back to his screen. “Speaking of the devil... did you actually review the briefing documents I forwarded you?”

You lean your head back against the rigid spine of the chair, closing your eyes behind the comforting dark barrier of the shades. “Didn’t have time between the shit brass keeps pulling out of their collective asses. They had me running a three-week marathon through the Bolivian brush tracking a phantom lead that didn't exist. My brain is fried, Evan.”

Evan sighs, a familiar, fond sound. He slides his tablet directly into your lap. “Well, look at it now. Tell me what you think of the extraction protocol.”

You crack your eyes open, pulling the tablet up and scrolling through the classified tactical mapping for the upcoming raid on an European crime syndicate. Your eyes skim the coordinates, the perimeter deployment, the estimated response times, and the structural analysis of the target compound. 

Within thirty seconds, the sheer, unadulterated stupidity of the plan makes your blood pressure spike. It is an absolute bottleneck. A tactical suicide pact written in neat, Arial-font bullet points.

“What do you think?” Evan asks, though he clearly already knows the answer.

“I think it’s a shitty plan,” you say, your voice flat and definitive. “The moron who drafted this is clearly huffing glue. I’m going to have to give them the benefit of my very thorough expertise.”

Evan lets out a dry, raspy chuckle, shaking his head. “Expertise? Is that what we’re calling it now? You’re clearly the personality hire on this team. I’m the one who does the actual work around here.”

“Shut up and let me look at how many ways they're trying to get us killed,” you mutter playfully, elbowing him lightly in the ribs.

While you are staring down at the glowing screen, your blunt words echoing softly in the quiet room, you feel the distinct sensation of eyes on you. You casually tilt your head up, your gaze tracking through the dark tint of your sunglasses.

He had clearly caught your comment about the glue. But instead of the typical, defensive puffing of the chest you usually get from high-ranking male operatives—instead of the offended, stiff arrogance of a man whose reputation had just been casually dismissed—he looks entirely intrigued. 

One of his eyebrows is slightly arched, a faint, almost imperceptible trace of amusement dancing in his blue eyes. He leans back slightly in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze steady and assessing as he watches you handle Evan’s tablet. He isn't intimidated by your abrasive, foul-mouthed demeanor at all. If anything, the slight, curious smirk hovering near his lips suggests he finds the absolute lack of corporate filtering refreshing.

You hold his gaze behind your lenses, dryly noting that at least the kid has a sense of humor. 

At the front of the room, the Deputy Director clears his throat, the sound amplified by the briefing room’s microphone as he taps a button on his remote.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's get down to it," the Director says, his voice flat and bureaucratic as the main projector screen flickers to life. A massive intelligence dossier populates the center display, dominated by a stark, stylized graphic of a mythological beast—three heads, a serpent's tail, a predator's posture. "Over the last fiscal quarter, our joint intelligence web has flagged a rapidly expanding shadow organization. They utilize this creature—the Chimera—as their formal sigil, and the intelligence community has formally dubbed them the Chimera Syndicate."

He clicks to the next slide, revealing high-resolution satellite imagery of fortified black sites and intercepted cargo manifests. "This isn't your standard black-market cartel. The Chimera Syndicate has recently taken up dealing BOWs on a massive scale across European sectors. They are actively acquiring fractured Umbrella assets, securing refined viral strains, and selling bio-organic weaponry to the highest international bidders. And that brings us to their primary distribution hub."

He clicks the remote again. The projection screen behind him flashes to a highly detailed, brightly colored tactical overlay of the primary target compound in Eastern Europe. He begins to drone on about standard insertion protocols, tracing a neat little red line directly through the main courtyard. He speaks with the smooth, unearned confidence of a man who has never had to wash a colleague's blood out of a pair of combat boots.  

As the details of the operation spill out of his mouth, the last frayed threads of your patience finally snap.

The insertion point is a funnel. The secondary extraction route relies on a bridge that your own intelligence reports indicated was structurally compromised three weeks ago. They are practically rolling out a red carpet for the Chimera Syndicate's heavy artillery.

You lean over to Evan, not even bothering with the concept of a whisper. “This is bullshit.”

The entire room goes dead silent. The air conditioning unit suddenly feels incredibly loud. 

The Deputy Director freezes, his red laser pointer trembling slightly against the digital map on the wall. Slowly, he lowers the remote and turns his head, glaring at you over the wire rims of his spectacles with a look of radiating self-importance. It’s the exact kind of bureaucratic condescension that usually makes you want to reach into your jacket for a flask. 

“Officer? Did you have something you wanted to share with the rest of the group? Or were you too busy admiring your own reflection in those glasses?”

He expects an apology. He wants you to shrink back, to mutter a sorry, sir and let him finish his fantasy of a flawless victory.

But you’ve been in the dark too long to care about his ego.

“I said,” you repeat, sitting up straight and pulling the sunglasses off your head, “this is bullshit.”

The Deputy Director’s face transitions into a delicate, dangerous shade of mauve. “You are forgetting who you are speaking to, Officer,” he says, his teeth clenched so tight you can hear the enamel grinding. “This is a highly sensitive tactical operation engineered by top-tier military minds.”  

“No,” you fire back, leaning forward and slamming your sunglasses onto the polished wood table with a sharp, echoing crack. “You’re forgetting who you’re speaking to. Twenty-five years of service in black ops. Unmatched field experience. You brought me into this circus for my expertise, so you’re damn well getting it. This plan isn't an operation—it’s a fucking suicide note.”  

A few years ago, a comment like that would have gotten you escorted out of Langley by armed guards. But you have built a reputation heavy enough that even senior leadership cannot simply dismiss you or pretend your record doesn't exist. 

You’ve survived the kind of clean-up jobs that keep these directors awake at night, and they know it.

Before he can order you out, you stand up, stepping up to the edge of the long conference table. You point a finger directly at the glowing projection screen and systematically begin to dismantle their beautiful, pristine plan.  

“Look at your primary insertion point,” you command, your voice echoing off the sterile walls. “You are funneling three separate tactical teams right into a cross-section of overlapping kill zones. The syndicate has elevated sniper perches on the north and west ridges. If you drop the teams there, they’ll be fish in a barrel before their boots even hit the mud.”  

The Deputy Director opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off with a brutal wave of your hand. “Furthermore, whoever drew these perimeter lines completely ignored the existing ventilation and maintenance routes running beneath the sub-level labs. They appear right here on the 1998 Umbrella blueprints, but I guess looking at older schematics was too much fucking work for your analysts.”  

You lean over the table, glaring directly into the Director's eyes. “Your planners are assuming the enemy is going to behave predictably and according to conventional military rules. These people are dealing bio-organic weapons. They don't play by the Geneva Convention.”  

The Director’s face goes from mauve to a deep, embarrassed crimson as he realizes he has absolutely no data to counter your points, because every single word out of your mouth is entirely, undeniably correct. Around the table, the other military officials suddenly avoid eye contact with him, quietly nodding and adjusting their papers, silently acknowledging the massive, fatal flaws you are exposing.  

“So go ahead,” you finish, tossing your pen down onto the table. “Send them in through the front door. And then you can be the one to explain to the families why their sons and daughters are now sentient, mutated piles of sludge.”  

You sink back into your chair, breathing heavily, the thumping in your head returning with a vengeance.

Evan leans over, rubbing his temple. “Always the same shit with you,” he whispers, though there’s a fond, weary undercurrent to his voice. “You could at least try to soften the tone, you know? Just once? For the sake of my blood pressure?”

You turn your head slightly, a small, sharp smile playing on your lips. “I could soften it, Evan. I really could. But I just don't give a fuck anymore. Seen enough crap that makes Guantanamo seem like a great retirement destination.”

The front of the room is silent for a painfully long moment. The Deputy Director looks at the screen, then at his notes, and finally clears his throat, his posture deflating. With an incredibly grudging, bitter nod, he addresses the room. “We will... take these variables into consideration. The briefing is paused for sixty minutes while we recalculate the insertion vectors.” 

“Of course you will,” you murmur, leaning back and tapping your pen lightly against the table.

Evan exhales, a long, weary sound. “You know, one day they’re actually going to throw you out of one of these rooms. Permanently.”

You shrug faintly, a playful glint returning to your eyes now that the pressure is off. “Then they shouldn’t invite me. I’m a terrible guest.”

He snorts under his breath.

Across the table, Leon Kennedy is still staring. 

He isn’t offended. 

He looks captivated, his blue eyes wide with a mix of shock and dawning respect. There’s a faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he’s fighting the urge to grinright there in front of his superiors.  

He looks like a man who has spent far too many years surrounded by tightly wound politicians and yes-men who are too terrified of losing their pensions to speak the truth—and he’s just realized he's sitting across from a kindred spirit.

You catch his eye, hold it for a second to make sure he’s paying attention, and give him a quick, mischievous wink.

Leon blinks, completely caught off guard. A faint, genuine flush of color creeps up the collar of his shirt and colors his neck. He looks down at his folder, clearing his throat awkwardly as you turn your attention back to your coffee, thoroughly satisfied with the morning’s entertainment.

──────•✦•──────

The tarmac at the private airfield in the Eastern Slav Republic feels like a sheet of ice, the kind of cold that doesn’t just nip at your skin but takes a personal interest in your bone marrow. As the transport plane’s ramp hisses open, the Eastern European wind rushes in, smelling of jet fuel, pine needles, and the vague, metallic tang of an impending storm.

You pull the collar of your shearling jacket up against the chill, stepping down the ramp onto the frost-heaved asphalt. Your boots crunch on the thin layer of ice already forming over the puddles. Instantly, that familiar, leaden weight settles deep in your chest—the crushing boredom and cold dread of another black ops circus kicking off in a corner of the world that God forgot.

A few yards away, Leon Kennedy is hauling a heavy tactical crate off the hydraulic lift. He handles the weight with an easy, fluid strength, his biceps straining against the fabric of his dark tactical shirt, but his head isn't entirely in the game. 

Ever since you verbally castrated the Deputy Director back at Langley, the boy has been walking on eggshells around you, trying to solve you like a puzzle he can't quite piece together. He’s clearly used to two types of people: starry-eyed rookies who treat him like a plastic action figure, or stiff STRATCOM suits trying to measure their dicks against his file. 

He isn’t used to a woman who treats him like a regular peer and tells his bosses to shove their tactical maps where the sun doesn’t shine.

The local contact, a grizzled man named Yuri with skin like cured leather and a suspicious twitch in his left eye, waits by a rusted-out UAZ. He looks ready to bolt the second he sees the American “advisors” unloading crates of high-tech hardware.

The STRATCOM team leader is already smoothing his tactical vest, preparing to march over and deliver some textbook, aggressively formal diplomatic introduction that will probably make the poor bastard leak information out of sheer panic.

You don't give them the chance. You bypass the handlers entirely, stepping past a stack of gear, and walk straight toward Yuri, your posture losing the aggressive, combat-ready edge you hold in the briefing room.

“Zdrastvuy, Yuri,” you say softly, your Russian rolling off your tongue with ease. You place a gentle hand on his forearm, your eyes softening. “We heard about your brother. I am truly sorry. No man should lose family to these monsters.”

Yuri freezes, his defensive posture melting instantly. He looks at you and sees the empathy there—the genuine, weary kindness of someone who has seen too many brothers lost.

He nods slowly, his eyes brimming with a sudden, shaky trust. He wipes his nose with the back of a dirty glove and begins to speak rapidly, the words spilling out of him in an anxious, desperate torrent of Russian. 

He points a trembling finger toward the jagged white peaks rising in the distance. He tells you everything. He details the exact paths the Chimera cell has been using to move their crates into the foothills, the approximate headcounts, and the strange, guttural noises echoing from the abandoned mining shafts at night. He is trusting you with his life because you had the decency to treat him like a grieving human being before treating him like an asset.

From the corner of your eye, you see Leon stop what he’s doing. He’s holding a tactical vest, frozen mid-motion, watching the exchange.

You can almost hear the gears turning in his head: Who is this person?

One minute you’re a human buzzsaw in a conference room, and the next you’re comforting a terrified informant in his mother tongue like a saint in tactical boots.

He is visibly, utterly stunned. The cognitive dissonance is practically short-circuiting his pretty blond head.

You finish the exchange with Yuri, promising him that his village will be bypassed in the coming sweep, and turn back toward the team. The professional mask slides back into place, though your inner monologue remains as cynical as ever.

Great. Now all I need is a coffee and a lobotomy to forget the smell of this airfield.

Evan is currently cross-referencing a digital manifest next to a stack of ammunition crates and looking predictably miserable about the temperature.

You don’t say a word as you walk up to him; you simply reach into his tactical jacket pocket with the practiced ease of a pickpocket, your fingers finding the familiar rectangular shape of his cigarette pack and the cold metal of his Zippo.

“Hey,” Evan grunts, not even looking up as you flip the lid and spark a flame. “You know, those things will fucking kill you one day," he grumbles, crossing his arms against the biting wind. "And for the love of God, you are a government employee. Buy your own damn cigarettes for once."

You flick the Zippo open with a sharp, metallic clink, shielding the small flame from the bitter wind with your palm as you light up. You take a long, deep drag, the harsh smoke burning beautifully in your lungs, before blowing a neat gray cloud into the freezing air. You wink at him through the haze. 

"Why would I buy my own, Evan? Using your supply is significantly more cost-effective. It's called resource management."

"You’re a parasite," Evan grumbles, though there’s no real heat in it. "A highly armed, middle-aged parasite."

You shoot him a sharp, playful grin and nudge his shoulder with your elbow. “Consider it a fee for my charming company. It’s a bargain.”

"Your company is a recognized hazard to my physical and mental health," he snorts under his breath, turning his attention back to the tablet, though the distinct, affectionate twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth gives him away completely.

You feel that heavy gaze on you again. You turn your head just enough to see Leon still watching you, his expression a mix of bewilderment and something that looks suspiciously like intrigue. 

He looks like he wants to say something—probably some heroic one-liner about the mission or a polite comment on your linguistics—but he seems to realize he doesn’t have the right opening.

You catch his eye and let the smoke drift out of the side of your mouth, giving him a look that’s equal parts Can I help you? and Try to keep up.

Instantly, the legendary Leon S. Kennedy completely loses his nerve.

His cheeks turn a faint, tellsome pink against the freezing cold, and he abruptly rips his gaze away, suddenly becoming profoundly, intensely interested in the adjustment strap of his left combat boot. He starts pulling at a buckle that doesn't even need adjusting, his fingers working with a nervous, clumsy speed that is entirely uncharacteristic of a top-tier federal agent.

You watch his sudden, burning embarrassment, a sudden bubble of genuine, suppressed amusement fluttering in your chest. 

You take another drag of your cigarette, hiding your smirk behind the smoke.

Poor guy, you think, suppressed amusement bubbling in your chest. He’s a legend in the field, but he’s absolutely out of his depth here.

This is going to be a very long, very entertaining week.

──────•✦•──────

Leon adjusts the weight of his tactical vest, the Velcro snapping with a sharp, rhythmic sound that matches the pounding of the blood in his ears. 

He feels like he’s trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing. He’s seen a lot of things in his time—monsters that defy biology and politicians who defy logic—but you are proving to be a different kind of anomaly. 

One minute you are a hurricane, dismantling a Director’s career with the surgical precision of a scalpel, and the next, you are crouched in the dirt, speaking Russian with a softness that seems to physically soothe a trembling informant. 

It’s a jarring duality, a shift in frequency so fast it leaves him with a lingering sense of vertigo.

Evan follows his line of sight without a shred of subtlety, his gaze drifting over to where you stand by a rusted armored truck, looking entirely too comfortable for a woman in a frozen wasteland. A knowing, weary flicker crosses the older officer's face, the look of a man who has seen this particular brand of fascination take root before. 

“Careful,” Evan says dryly, his voice cutting through the whistle of the wind. “She bites.” 

Leon huffs out a quiet breath, the vapor clouding in front of his face. “Yeah, I got that impression,” he mutters, thinking of the way you’d winked at him after essentially lighting the briefing room on fire. 

“Good,” Evan replies, shifting his weight. “Then you’re ahead of most people.”

There’s a beat of heavy, cold silence between them as Leon hesitates. He shouldn't ask; he’s a professional, and he has a job to do that involves BOWs, not interpersonal psych-evaluations. 

But against his better judgment, he finds the question slipping out anyway. “She always like that?” 

Evan raises an eyebrow, a skeptical glint in his eyes. “Like what?” 

Leon gestures vaguely toward you, his hand dropping as soon as he realizes how transparent he’s being. “That. The... the 180-degree switch.” 

Evan looks back at you again, watching as you flick ash into a metal tray with a flick of your wrist, looking completely unbothered by the fact that you are the center of gravity for every set of eyes on this tarmac. 

“Depends,” Evan says after a moment. “You mean the part where she terrifies people in meetings, or the part where she talks a scared informant off a ledge like it’s nothing?”

Leon exhales through his nose, the cold air stinging his sinuses. “Yeah. That.” 

He’s trying to reconcile the blunt instrument he saw at Langley with the gentle soul currently promising a Russian man safety. 

“Both are real,” Evan shrugs, his expression unreadable. “People are rarely just one thing, Kennedy.” 

Leon frowns, unsatisfied. “That’s helpful.” 

Evan gives him a look that is pure CIA ice. “I’m not here to be helpful. I’m here to make sure she doesn’t get herself killed doing something reckless.” 

Leon’s gaze snaps back to the older man. “Reckless?” 

Evan’s mouth tilts into a grim, knowing shadow of a smile. “You’ll see.”

The warning is far from reassuring, but it fuels the fire of Leon's curiosity. 

As Evan moves off to check the perimeter, Leon finds his feet moving toward you before he can talk himself out of it. 

You are still leaning against the truck, the cigarette tucked between your fingers, looking like you belong in a vintage spy film rather than a bio-hazard containment zone. 

He stops a few feet away, feeling that familiar, slightly clumsy charm of his start to misfire. “You know, I’m starting to think you have a twin,” he says, trying for a smooth tone and landing somewhere near 'vaguely confused.' “Because the person who nearly made the Director cry in D.C. didn't seem like the type to hold hands with local informants.”

You turn your head slowly, a curl of smoke drifting from your lips as you look him up and down with that devastatingly dry, self-assured gaze. Leon feels a sudden, sharp urge to check if he has something on his face or if he’s standing in a puddle. 

“It’s called multitasking, Kennedy,” you reply, your voice a low, melodic contrast to the harsh wind. “You should try it. It saves a lot of time on paperwork.” 

Leon lets out a short, dry laugh, leaning his shoulder against a stack of crates to hide the fact that he’s slightly off-balance. 

“I usually stick to one personality at a time. It's less confusing for the monsters I shoot.” He pauses, his blue eyes searching yours, trying to find the seam where the two versions of you meet. “Which one is the act?”

You take another drag of the cigarette, your eyes softening just a fraction, though the sharp intelligence behind them remains. 

“Neither,” you say simply, exhaling the smoke into the gray sky. 

You flick the ash away and step closer, invading his personal space just enough to make his heart do a weird, uncoordinated stutter. 

“You’ve been at this circus long enough to know that being a ‘golden boy’ is its own kind of mask,” you murmur, your tone shifting into something terrifyingly perceptive. “Am I right?” 

Leon feels a hit of genuine, stinging recognition. He’s spent years being the hero, the survivor, the flawless agent, often at the cost of the man underneath the leather jacket. He looks down at you, realizing that for all your sarcasm and sharp edges, you are seeing him with a clarity that most people miss. 

“Maybe,” he admits, his voice dropping an octave. “But I usually wait until the second date to get profiled.” 

You let out a genuine, raspy laugh—a bright, surprising, beautiful sound in the miserable gloom of the airfield—and pat his upper arm with a hand that is surprisingly, comfortingly warm despite the freezing cold.  

“Don’t flatter yourself, Kennedy,” you tease, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m not profiling you. I’m just trying to see if you’re actually as interesting as your redacted file claims you are.”  

As you pull your hand away and walk off to rejoin Evan at the command vehicle, Leon is left standing entirely alone in the freezing wind. He stares at his clipboard, completely tongue-tied, realizing that for the first time in a very long time, he is the one who has been left entirely caught off guard.

──────•✦•──────

The sterile, flickering lights of the facility hum with a low-frequency buzz that sets Leon’s mind on edge, the air thick with the antiseptic tang of chemicals and the metallic stench of old blood. 

The raid was supposed to be a surgical strike—in, out, secure the samples—but as the sirens begin to wail, Leon knows the "plan" he’d defended back at Langley has officially gone to hell. 

He is moving through the corridors with his gun drawn, his senses dialed to an eleven, when the wet, rhythmic slapping of flesh against metal echoes from the ceiling vents. 

Before he can even shout a warning, a pair of Lickers drop from the shadows, their raw, exposed brains glistening under the strobing emergency lights and their elongated tongues lashing out like whips.

Leon’s instinct is to dive in front of you, as he prepares to shoulder the brunt of the assault, but you are already three steps ahead of him. 

You don't scream. You certainly don't freeze. 

Instead, you drop into a low crouch, your movements fluid and practiced, and unleash a controlled burst from your submachine gun that catches the first creature mid-leap. 

You move with a lethal, terrifying grace, pivoting on your heel to put a round through the second creature’s skull just as it lunges. 

As the monsters slump into twitching heaps of gore, you don’t even look winded. You simply glance over at Leon, who is still half-poised for a heroic rescue that wasn't needed, and offer a devastatingly calm smirk. 

"Don't worry, Kennedy. I can actually shoot," you say, your voice dripping with that dry, playful sarcasm that seems to be your default setting. "Try to keep up, pretty boy."

Leon finds himself completely stunned, a sudden, ridiculous wave of heat rushing up his neck at the nickname. 

Pretty boy. 

Christ, he’s a federal agent who has stared down a Tyrant, but you managing to call him a pretty boy in the middle of a biological weapon ambush leaves him feeling more flustered than he cares to admit. He clears his throat, quickly lowering his weapon from its defensive arc and sliding into a low piece of concrete cover right next to you.

"Nice shooting," he quips, his breath coming in short, controlled bursts. "Did you try asking them politely in Russian first? Maybe they just needed a hug and a cigarette."

You reload your weapon with a metallic clack that is entirely too smooth, your eyes fixed on the door as you raise an eyebrow at him. The flickering light catches the sharp, confident line of your jaw, and Leon finds himself momentarily distracted by the fact that you look incredibly good in the middle of a warzone. 

"If I wanted to chat with a monster, Kennedy, I could have stayed in Washington," you shoot back, your tone perfectly flat and unimpressed. "At least these ones don't pretend to have a soul before they try to eat you."

Leon lets out a short, startled chuckle, shaking his head as he prepares to breach the next room. 

He realizes, with a sinking sort of clarity, that he is wildly out of his depth with you. He’s used to being the most capable person in the room—the one people look to when the world starts ending—but you don't look to him for anything other than a little bit of entertainment. 

It’s frustrating, bewildering, and, if he’s being honest with himself, completely intoxicating. 

Leon moves with you through the flickering dimness of the lower laboratories, his boots crunching over shattered glass and spent brass casings. 

The facility is a graveyard of failed ambitions and bio-hazardous waste, but every time the emergency strobes pulse, his eyes find the back of your head or the steady line of your shoulders. He finds himself attempting to bridge the silence, his social skills feeling about as refined as a flashbang. 

"So," he starts, his voice echoing slightly against the reinforced concrete walls, "is the 'pretty boy' thing a standard CIA field designation, or do I get a special badge for that?" 

He’s trying for suave, but it comes out with that distinct, earnest Leon Kennedy awkwardness—the kind that usually works on college students or younger agents, but seems to bounce off your skin like a ricochet. You don't even turn around, though he can hear the unmistakable lilt of a laugh in your throat. 

"It’s a temporary rank, Kennedy. Don’t get too attached to it; you’re one bad hair day away from a demotion," you reply, your tone dry. 

Leon huffs a small, self-deprecating smile, adjusting his grip on his weapon. 

"Tough crowd," he mutters, though the frustration is entirely surface-level. Beneath it, he’s enjoying the friction, the way you refuse to let him settle into his usual rhythm.

As you push through a set of heavy, hydraulic double doors, the air clears slightly. You find Evan waiting in a secure junction point, leaning against a console with a rifle slung over his shoulder and a look of profound boredom on his face. 

"Hey, you," Evan calls out, his voice raspy from the recycled air. He looks you over with a clinical, brotherly eye, his relief manifesting as a grumpy grunt. "Glad to see you're still kicking. I wasn't looking forward to filling out the paperwork for a new partner." 

You stop for a second, shifting your weight and giving him a stern look.

"What, you doubt my survival skills now, Evan? After fifteen years of me pulling your ass out of the fire?" You ask, your voice dripping with faux-indignation. 

Evan doesn't even blink, his gaze shifting briefly to Leon before returning to you. "Frequently," he replies without a beat. 

You shake your head, a genuine, fond smile tugging at the corners of your mouth—the kind of look Leon hasn't quite earned yet—before you gesture toward the dark corridor leading to the main server room. 

"Look lively, boys. We've got a virus to steal and a long flight home," you call out over your shoulder, already moving forward into the gloom.

Leon stands there for a moment, watching the way you navigate the shadows with a confidence that borders on the supernatural. 

He’s supposed to be the seasoned veteran, the one who’s seen it all and done it all, but you’ve managed to make him feel like he’s back in Raccoon City—uncertain, outclassed, and desperately curious. 

He watches the sway of your tactical belt and the way you check your corners with a lethal, effortless grace, and he realizes he’s in so much fucking trouble.

It’s a ridiculous sensation for a man of his age and standing, a schoolboy crush wrapped in a layer of professional respect and a healthy dose of "what the fuck is wrong with me," but as he follows you into the dark, he can't bring himself to mind. 

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[pickleeeeeeeeee]

old friend

re4! leon kennedy x dso! reader

MDNI !!

summary: when you get a job at a top government agency, you reunite with a man you never thought you'd see again

wc: 11.8k

tags/warnings: eventual smut, unprotected sex, no use of y/n

a/n: my first re fic and my longest fic yet! i hope you enjoy :p

at twenty-five years old, you have your bachelors in journalism (minoring in biology), and your masters in journalism as well, both from northwestern university (chicago born and raised!). you also have extensive firearm and self defense training, something you decided to pick up because nothing else sounded interesting enough. while all your friends picked up pottery, or pilates, you decided to do something a little more… niche. this is what led you to your chosen career path.

 you networked a lot in college, and met a lot of important people. one of these people was able to get a good word in for you at the division of security operations, and that is how you landed your first job post-grad that wasn’t cashiering or waiting tables. 

from there, you packed up your things and moved into a small apartment in washington d.c.. a job like this, one would think, would be incredibly hard to get, especially since you work directly under the president of the united states, but for you, it was actually quite simple.

the president asked the american people what they wanted to see. the response? they wanted to know more about bioterrorism. bioterrorism was a massive issue, not only in the united states, but all around the world, and yet, the average american knew virtually nothing about it. 

the chief of the dso decided that in order to gain the trust of the american people, something that was incredibly difficult after the events of raccoon city, he would hire someone that could capture the real, raw, and terrifying things that its members go through on a daily basis. one of your favorite professors at northwestern is a former cabinet member, and still kept in touch with a lot of government employees, so he referred you straight to the white house. i mean, your skills made you a perfect match. your studies in journalism, and your portfolio from working at your school’s newspaper, your brief studies on biology, where you learned about various viruses, and your self defense skills meant there was almost nobody else that was as qualified as you were.

fast forward to today, it’s your fourth night in your new apartment, and the night before your new job at the division of security operations. nervous was an understatement. you paced around your living room, freaking out about how your first day would go. you were the first of your kind. there was nobody else at the agency, or any federal agency, that had a job quite like yours. you worried about if you would get along with your coworkers, if they were tough and strict, as the job would require, or if they were more laid back. you were also worried about the job itself, you had some experience reporting, but self defense? essentially none. you believed you were trained for the situations they would put you in, but that was just in theory. what if your first mission was something totally insane and life threatening? would you be able to handle it?

you like to think of yourself as an independent, confident person, but this move has been more difficult on you than you thought it would be. hopefully that changes once you start your new job and get the hang of everything. i mean, you’re a rookie, they’re not gonna send you somewhere insane for a little bit.

you get tired of pacing, and look at the time to see that it reads 9:00 pm. you decide it's probably time to go to bed, even though you doubt your nerves will let you sleep at all. you talked to your family and friends earlier, and they all wished you luck from back home, but you wished that they were with you in d.c.. after doing your extensive nighttime routine, you get into bed, turn your white noise on, and close your eyes.

some time, and some tossing and turning later, your alarm goes off and its 6:00 am. you’ve never been one to take a long time getting ready in the morning, so after a quick shower, outfit change, and breakfast, you’re out the door at 6:30. you don’t live too far from the pentagon, but after a short and silent drive, you get there about 15 minutes before you’re supposed to, just in case anything goes wrong.

parking is easy thanks to the permit they sent you in the mail, and after an annoyingly long security process, you find yourself inside the largest office building in the united states. a few ‘where do i go’s’ later and you’re at the door you need to be at, and you’re five minutes early. once you open it, there’s no going back. you take a deep breath, your last moment of silence before what could be the rest of your life, given that you like your job, and they like you. 

you sigh, “here goes nothing,” you whisper to yourself, before scanning your brand new identification badge and entering the bioterrorism wing of the pentagon. you hear a quiet beep before gently pushing the door open, your warm palm shaking against the cold metal door. 

you are greeted by various sounds, chatting, typing, and papers printing. so. many. footsteps. you didn’t realize how many people actually worked to fight against bioterrorism. so many people, and yet, the american people knew nothing about this? that’s why you were here, you suppose. in front of you were an inordinate amount of cubicles, and offices lined the sides of the incredibly large room. you wonder if you’re gonna get your own office, or if you’ll have to share a space with others.

you don’t realize how long you’ve been standing at the door until a man comes up to you. he is dressed incredibly well, wearing a suit tailored exactly to his frame. he’s not super old, maybe 40s, but by the look in his eyes, he’s definitely seen some things.

“chief matthews,” he says to you, extending his hand to you. you take his hand, and shake it gently. “you must be our new recruit.”

“in the flesh,” you respond, forcing a smile. it’s not that you’re not excited, you’re just so nervous that it’s showing up on your face. “nice to meet you.”

“nice to meet you too, agent. there’s no time to waste, let me show you around.”

you smile once again as he turns around and gestures to all the cubicles in front of the two of you.

“this is where all the paperwork happens. reports are filed and stored safely into folders for easy access. it sounds mindless and boring, but this agency wouldn’t run without these guys.”

he begins slowly walking through the cubicles. you follow directly behind him.

“as you’ll notice, there's plenty of offices. me and you, we work for the dso, but because the work we do goes hand in hand with that of the bsaa, everything is almost just mixed into one big agency.”

he lowers his voice, “don’t tell any of the bsaa agents though, they like to be in their own little world.”

just as he says that, a tall and incredibly large man comes out of a nearby office, speedwalking.

“speaking of the devil,” chief matthews exclaims, “here comes a bsaa agent now!”

the tall man is about to walk by the two of you when he stops dead in his tracks, “me?” he asks?

“yes you,” responds matthews. he looks at you, “chris redfield, a top bsaa agent.”

chris raises his eyebrows, “no shit!”

you look at him, “nice to meet you.”

he nods, “you too. gotta go.” he walks away very quickly as the two of you just watch.

“agents tend to get very busy around here, something you will learn quite fast.”

you laugh nervously, “how busy?”

matthews bursts into laughter, “that is hilarious! how busy? well you’ll just have to see, my friend.”

you laugh with him, internally panicking. he finally catches his breath as he continues giving you an incredibly detailed tour of the wing. from the cubicles to the offices to the break room, you might actually be able to get around without asking for help. the last stop of the tour is a small office with your name written on the door and the words ‘chief journalist’ written underneath it.

“well, this is your new home!” matthews says with more enthusiasm than you would prefer.

you step up to the door and inspect the plaque with your name and title on it, “chief?” you ask him.

“of course you’re the chief! who else would be?”

“i- i don’t know actually.”

“exactly. you’re the first of its kind. you are actually making history, i hope you realize that.”

a small smile forms at the corner of your mouth, “i never actually thought about it that way.”

“well you better,” he says, “you’re about to be famous.”

the small smile immediately disappears. famous? obviously you’d be famous. you’re the first ever chief journalist at a government that people have been begging for information from since bioweapons were invented. your findings are going to be read and/or watched by people not only in the united states, but all over the world. you might even become a household name soon. good god.

“you okay?” matthews asks, noticing that you’ve zoned out. 

“perfect, yeah.” you say, quickly to avoid suspicion.

“great, well how about you get settled in your office, and i’ll-” he is cut off by his phone ringing. he furrows his eyebrows, and takes his phone out of his pocket, “excuse me,” he says before answering and stepping away.

while he’s on the phone, you open up your office and look around. it’s not the biggest, but it’s big enough. with enough string lights you could make it the perfect atmosphere for writing about your gruesome findings. how aesthetic.

“what?!” you turn around to see a frantic chief matthews. you furrow your eyebrows and take a few steps forward. “that can’t be right, are you sure?”

all you can do is watch him as he paces back and forth on the phone until he hangs up. once he hangs up, he looks at you, eyes nearly popping out of his head, “come with me,” he says, all the enthusiasm previously there now gone.

you drop your belongings onto your desk and follow him as he hurriedly makes his way through the wing.

“is everything okay?” you ask.

“the president’s daughter was kidnapped.”

“what?”

“the president’s daughter was kidnapped and is believed to be in a remote village in spain.”

“oh my god.” you have a million questions, but you decide not to ask them, because you don’t want to push. the two of you stay silent until matthews reaches a room that you had just seen on your tour, the conference room.

he quickly swings the door open to reveal various agents (dso, bsaa, and fbi)  and bioweapon researchers sitting around a giant rectangular table with the president himself at the head of the table. you’re a bit starstruck, but obviously, you keep that to yourself.

the president’s eyebrows furrow when he sees you, “where’s kennedy?”

“he’s on his way, mr. president. and this is our new recruit, the journalist,” matthews answers for you.

“nice to meet you agent, it’s unfortunate that it is under these circumstances.”

you nod, “nice to meet you too, mr. president.”

“alright everyone, we can’t wait for kennedy, have a seat.”

he spends the next twenty minutes talking about how his daughter, ashley graham, was marked absent from her classes at the university of massachusetts, and that it prompted concern from her professors, as she had never missed a day of school before. reports of secret service on campus were also made, which was unusual as there were no secret service agents sent by the president. these secret service imposters were said to have abducted ashley, and her whereabouts were unknown until american intelligence operatives tracked her location down to a region of spain known as valedobos. 

the president looks at you, as you jot everything he just said in a small notepad that you carry around with you everywhere.

“you got all that?” he asks.

“most.”

“good, because this is your first mission.”

your eyes go wide, “wha-”

“you and another agent are going to be sent to spain, as soon as tonight hopefully, and you will be tasked with the mission of bringing my daughter back to the united states.”

you begin to sweat. this is your first mission? “mr. president if i could just-”

“your job is to document everything. audio, video, written reports, you will document everything you see and bring it all back here, along with my daughter, safely,, so that the american people can see what bioterrorism is really like.

suddenly, the door to the conference room swings open. you are too busy suppressing a panic attack to turn around and look at who just showed up.

the president stands up, “look who finally decided to show up.”

“i am so sorry, i read the briefing on the way here. i’m all caught up,” the unknown voice says behind you.

chief matthews looks at you, “hey, you alright?”

you nod vigorously, “yep. i’m great.”

“good, because i’d like you to meet your new partner.” he stands up, prompting you to do so as well. you begin to turn around slowly when you hear, “this is agent leon kennedy.”

you pause. you know that name. “leon?” you say, finally turning around. 

he looks at you with his piercing blue eyes like he’d just seen a ghost, “no fucking way,” he says, his voice deep.

matthews looks at the two of you back and forth, “you two know each other?”

you and leon look at each other, eyes wide and speechless.

“y-yeah, we do,” you finally say, breaking the silence.

“great,” the president says, “now go save my daughter. your flight to spain leaves in two hours.” he then walks out of the room, along with the rest of the agents who need to get back to their desks in preparation for the mission.

you and leon both grew up in the chicago area. you met him when you were an eighteen year old freshman in college, and he was a 20 year old attending the chicago police training academy. with your sudden interest in self defense, and his need to go above and beyond his peers at the academy, you both met at a training center in the city, where the two of you had gotten pretty close.

you would see each other multiple times a week for months, and despite not even getting each others phone numbers, you had considered each other to be friends, and made it a point to train together multiple times a week.

he had finished his police training, however, and told you that he was going to start working for the raccoon city police department. everything happened so fast, and after he had left, then came the events of raccoon city, and you had no way of contacting him, so you assumed the worst.

you couldn’t believe that he was standing in front of you, alive and well, and you especially couldn’t believe that he was your new partner. he looked like himself, but with a tougher exterior, like there was just something off about him. he also looked incredibly handsome, but that was the least important thing of this entire situation. 

matthews looks at you, taking you out of your thoughts, “i know this is crazy. but this is your time to shine. you heard the guy, document everything, and… be careful.” he looks at leon, “both of you.” 

you nod, staring into space, still in disbelief at everything that just happened in the last twenty minutes.

matthews begins heading towards the door before pausing and looking back at the two of you, “you’ll both get a message soon about the flight details, but in the meantime, go home and pack,” he says, before leaving the room.

you stare at the floor, anxiously. “i thought you died,” you say, before lifting your head up and looking at leon.

“i’m sorry,” he says, quietly, “i wanted to reach out. i tried. i contacted so many different people, but i just couldn’t find you. i even called the training center, but they had told me you left, and that your information was no longer in their system.”

“training with other people wasn’t fun.”

a small smile forms on leon’s face. he looks down, looking as though he is trying to gather his thoughts. “i can’t believe you’re the new recruit, i mean i should’ve known.”

“it’s crazy isn’t it…”

“you ready for this mission?”

“i kinda have to be, don’t i?”

“you’re gonna do fine. trust me.” he looks at you, and that tough exterior you noticed before was already fading. “i’m glad you’re here.”

“i am too.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

the door to your apartment slams shut as a dramatic sigh escapes your mouth. “fuck.”

you quickly pull your phone out of your pocket, going immediately to your contacts and calling your mom.

ring.

ring.

ring.

you hear a faint click on the other side of the line, “hello? did you get off early?”

“i’m going to spain.” your voice is quiet. you trail off.

“you’re going where?”

“spain.”

“for work?”

you swallow, loud enough that the gulp is heard on the other end. there’s the answer.

“you’re gonna be safe, right?” your mom asks, her voice nearly breaking.

you’ve already worried her enough with the tone of your voice alone, so you clear your throat, ready to answer her with confidence, “yeah, of course i am.”

“good.” your mom answers, with less enthusiasm as you had hoped. “are you gonna call dad?”

“yeah, right now.”

“okay, well, i love you.”

“i love you too.”

click.

with your phone screen back to your contacts list, you call your dad.

ring.

ring.

ring.

“hi dad.”

.✦ ݁˖

the hum of the small government issued jet that you were currently in sounded much louder in your head than it was in real life. granted, military jets operate at much higher speeds than commercial planes, and, therefore, are louder than them, but the sheer magnitude of your racing heartbeat was making it worse.

leon sat across from you, his tough exterior back. he looked out the window, even though there was nothing but clouds for miles. it was almost like he was a different person than the man you spoke to in the conference room several before. i guess it was necessary if he was to go out and kill zombies.

both you and leon were outfitted in tactical gear. he wore a leather bomber jacket, navy blue compression shirt, black tactical pants, and combat boots. you also wore black tactical pants and combat boots, but opted for a long sleeve black compression shirt, and a black softshell jacket over it. 

next to leon was an abundance of weapons such as a handgun, shotgun, machine gun, and enough ammo to last a month. you also had a weapon, but only a handgun. it was made clear during the meeting that leon was going to do a majority of the combat  on this mission, while you would stay behind and do your journalistic duties, such as record footage and take auditory notes that you could go back to later (it would be too time consuming to hand write notes on a mission like this). your handgun was to be used purely if necessary for self defense. you prayed that you wouldn’t have to use it at all.

a small hiccup of turbulence takes you out of your thoughts and back to this incredibly unique reality that you have been put in. for the second time since this plane took off you grab your equipment bag and set it on your lap. anything to distract you. you open it up, just as you did before, and take everything out one by one, just to make sure that you have everything.

camera.

extra lens.

audio recorder.

handgun ammo.

protein bars.

yep, you’ve got everything. just like you had everything the first time you checked. leon turns to look at you, for the first time since taking off. he sees you inspecting everything you brought with you.

“you good?”

you nod vehemently, choosing not to respond. seeing him cool, calm, and collected is making your anxiety so much worse. how is he okay right now?

you know the answer to that, actually, because he’s probably done this a million times. you don’t know exactly what happened that day in raccoon city, but knowing he survived makes you wonder how many other things he's survived since then. you wouldn’t dare to ask what he went through that night, but there were many sleepless nights after the fact where you would hope he was okay. 

“you still do that, huh?” leon’s voice cuts through the silence (if you ignore the sounds of the plane).

“do what?” he looks down at your knee, which is bouncing at a speed higher than that of the plane. you stop it. “oh. have i always done that?”

he nods, “there was one day at the training center where you had gone in on a day you didn’t usually train. i think it was because you thought you bombed a midterm and wanted to blow off steam. you did it then too.”

“oh my god you remember that day?”

he pauses, almost as if he’s said too much. “i do.” his voice gets quiet.

you laugh to yourself, well, you exhale through your nose, if that still counts as a laugh. you look back at leon, now making eye contact with him. “how’d you start working at the dso?” you ask, hoping you aren’t prying too much.

he sighs, not knowing where to start. “it was just after raccoon city. i was detained the next morning, october first, by the military. i guess they had seen something in me after surviving, and they encouraged me to become an agent.”

you wince at the mention of raccoon city, not knowing you would bring up the traumatic event. “encouraged?”

“to put it lightly.”

“do you like your job?”

“define like.” you shrug, not knowing how to respond. he sighs, “i like helping people. i like trying to stop the spread of bioterrorism. i don’t like seeing it, though. the innocent people who’s lives are taken by a stupid fucking virus. it sucks.”

“i can’t imagine what that’s like.” you say, feeling bad that you might have put a damper on his mood.

“soon you won’t have to imagine, unfortunately.”

you huff, your shoulders dropping, “great.”

he softens. the same way he did in the conference room. “hey. we’re gonna be in and out of there. okay?”

you nod, “okay.”

he notices a slight voice crack from you, and decides to change the subject to stop you from freaking out even more. he’s always noticed these things, even when you two knew each other in the past. it’s hard to tell what he’s feeling most of the time, but it’s easy to tell when he cares about someone, even if he doesn’t want people knowing.

“how have you been?” he asks, sincerity in his voice.

a quiet laugh escapes you, “i’ve been good.”

“what’s so funny?” a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“i know you’re trying to be normal right now, but this is so weird. like, looking at you, and speaking to you, it’s so weird.”

“good or bad weird?”

“i haven’t decided yet.” you tease.

he laughs, like actually laughs out loud. you’re taken aback. you reunited with leon not long ago, but you noticed a significant change in his personality. when you knew him before, he was really smiley, which is hard to believe given his current state. the two of you used to actually get distracted during training because you’d be doubled over in laughter over something that wasn’t even that funny. seeing him laugh now just felt out of the ordinary.

“so just good?” he pries.

“well, the move has been a lot. i miss my friends and family. i’m excited about the new job though. after we get home safely of course.”

“we will,” he interrupts.

“i am a little nervous about the aftermath though. y’know, after whatever i document gets published and the whole world knows my name. our names.”

“yeah, that’s gonna be a little odd. excited for people to know the truth though. especially since our government hasn’t been the most truthful when it comes to bioweapons.”

you nod, you hadn’t thought about that before. “good point.”

“you like the city so far?” he asks.

“truthfully,” you begin, “i haven’t seen too much of it. except for the grocery store near my apartment and the ikea.” you moved to dc not too long ago, and have had no time to do anything fun.

leon takes a deep breath, “i could… show you around if you’d like,” he says, almost nervously, an emotion you hadn’t seen from him yet.

you smile, “that’d be awesome. thank you, leon.”

“yeah, for sure.” he says that like he’s brushing it off, like it’s no big deal. it’s not a big deal, he is just being friendly, but for some reason his kind gesture means a lot more to you than he thinks. it’s here when you realize how much you actually missed him and your guys’ friendship. you were so afraid of being alone after moving to a new city, but it almost feels like you and leon are picking back up where you left off six years ago. maybe things aren’t so bad.

more turbulence rattles through the plane. the two of you look out the window and start seeing small bits of land. just a few more minutes until landing. your stomach begins twisting once again. “how long do you think it’s gonna take?”

“no more than a few hours,” he says. “given we don’t run into any problems.”

“problems?”

he clears his throat and sits up, “yeah. like bio organic weapons. y’know..?” his voice trails off and he sounds like he’s trying to change the subject.

“what do you mean, like zombies?”

he shakes his head, furrowing his eyebrows, “no. we’re definitely gonna run into zombies.”

you sit up now. “so what the fuck are bio organic weapons?”

“oh you know… they’re like these… genetically altered monsters that militaries use.”

“monsters…”

“yeah. there’s all different kinds of b.o.w.’s. they didn’t teach you about this at the agency?”

your head falls to the side. you’re dumbfounded. “today’s my first day in case you forgot.” 

“shit. sorry.” he shakes head. “we’ll be fine.”

.✦ ݁˖

you were fine. that was until running into a fucking bio organic weapon.

the mission had been going pretty well so far. it started with you and leon being dropped off near a remote spanish village by two police officers, and from there, the two of you set out to find ashley. you explored the village that you were near, and it was pretty peaceful until los illuminados cult members ambushed you and leon. he had it handled though, obviously. like your boss said, you were there to document. leon fought off the infected villagers while you took pictures and videos, and basically narrated what you were seeing into your audio recorder. it’s not to say it wasn’t a little freaky, though. you’d heard of people like this, but seeing it in real life was almost unreal. you trusted leon though so you weren’t panicked. 

from there you explored this rural part of europe, going deeper into the village, crossing a lake, and finally finding ashley in a church. she was quiet, reasonably so. she was only twenty years old being kidnapped by a cult leader in spain. definitely an original experience. 

you and leon also found out why she was taken in the first place. the leader of the los illuminados was a man named osmund saddler. he took ashley and planned to infect her and send her back to the united states, hoping she would infect others, and therefore the virus would spread throughout the entire country. 

the problem with this was despite you and leon finding ashley, she was already infected by this point, and so was leon, as saddler expected him. so, instead of escaping, and going back to the drop off point, you and leon had to find out how to get rid of the virus before it progressed.

since ashley was infected before you and leon arrived to the church, the virus had already been progressing in ashley’s body, and she had already begun showing violence every now and then. she even somehow took leon’s knife off his person and tried to stab him with it, which was unsuccessful. it felt weird having to narrate all of this, but it was your job, and you wanted to fulfill your duty of informing the american people. 

thanks to biologist and former employee of saddler luis serra, you knew exactly how to get rid of the virus. luis worked with saddler doing research on las plagas, unknowingly contributing to illegal human testing and bioweapon development. feeling remorseful for his actions, he wanted to help leon and ashley remove the virus from their bodies so he told the three of you how to get to an underground lab containing a machine that can remove the parasite. well, the three of you were currently in the lab, and a regenerador stood in front of you. 

this thing was absolutely horrifying. at about seven and a half feet tall, all white, and a face straight out of a horror movie, you were genuinely afraid for your life.  ashley hid in a nearby room with the door locked (which probably wouldn’t do anything to stop a regenerador), while leon and yourself had to take it down. 

it didn’t move too fast, but you could tell it was strong. upon entering the room it was hanging out in and screaming at ashley to get out and find somewhere safe, leon began shooting at it with a submachine gun. you took out your handgun and started shooting at it too. 

the shots slowed it down, but not enough. “leon, what do we do?!” you yelled, above the deafening sound of the shots being fired.

without blinking, he threw his semi-automatic shotgun. “use this.”

you catch it, but you look at it like it's a foreign object, because to you, it is. “i’ve never shot one of these before!”

“just make sure your stance is solid. you’ve got this.”

you shake as you make sure your grip is strong and you aim at the monster in front of you. leon continues firing shots, trying to slow it down, but it is still somehow able to stand up. you notice leon getting fatigued, thanks to the parasite in his body. you have to do this.

with your finger trembling as it hovers over the trigger, you gather up the courage to pull it. in doing so, you deliver a lethal blow to the creatures abdomen, but you’re also thrown a few feet back. you don’t totally fall over because there’s a metal table to catch your fall, but thanks to the sheer force of the gun going off, you knew there’d be a massive bruise going down your back. you hunch over for a moment in pain, but the regenerador is still alive, so you ready up for another shot.

you pull the trigger once more, this time preparing for the recoil and you hit what you think is the creature’s main artery. you can’t really tell if it has a similar anatomical set up as a human being. the regenerador finally falls to the floor and does not attempt to get back up. blood begins pooling underneath its now lifeless body.

leon stops shooting and now that the adrenaline has worn off, you start to feel the pain on your back. you make sure to engage the safety on leon’s gun before letting it fall to the ground and leaning on the very table that you were knocked into. 

“oh my god.” you whisper to yourself, trying to catch your breath.

leon slowly walks over to you, his body covered in black veins, “are you alright?”

you quickly stand up, wincing. you don’t want him to know you’re hurt, especially since he is in a much worse position than you are right now. “yeah, definitely.”

“do you think i don’t know you?” he looks at you, seeing right through your bullshit. “you did good.” 

you half smile. “thank you.”

you quickly snap a photo of the dead regenerador and go find ashley. from there, the three of you find the machine. after two successful and very quick operations, the parasite is out of ashley and leon, and you are all able to escape the island and destroy it in the process.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

after a long and surprisingly peaceful flight, the three of you finally touch down in the nations capital. the peace doesn’t last long, however, as air force one landed at joint base andrews in maryland, you are greeted with an abundance of press. cameras, microphones, yelling in your face, the whole ordeal. the government was kind enough to let the three of you stay in your own separate hotel rooms and get some rest before heading back home, so you look somewhat put together. 

no amount of rest or preparation, however, could have prepared you for such a large crowd when getting off the plane. ashley graham is literally the president’s daughter. the first daughter, if you will. but a crowd of this size, asking the most personal questions to a girl that just got kidnapped, was just plain disrespectful. you couldn’t even comprehend a single thing that was being said to you, so everyone just decides to keep their mouths shut.

aside from the actual secret service agents surrounding you guys, you and leon act as bodyguards, shielding ashley from as many camera flashes and stupid questions as possible. eventually, you’re all hauled into a bulletproof suv where your next stop is the white house for a quick press conference, and then hopefully home.

“holy shit,” you say, quietly. “what the fuck was that?”

“i- i don’t know. i didn’t think there would be that many people there,” ashley replies, her eyebrows furrowing.

“are you okay?” you ask her, hoping the attention didn’t spook her too much.

she nods quickly, “i’m okay. this is just weird.”

“super weird,” you add on, with a smile. she smiles back.

the quiet humming of the car is the only sound in the small space. not even the radio is on. you look over at leon, and his classic furrowed eyebrow permanent frown look is plastered on his face. you’re gonna have to get used to seeing him like this. you’re gonna have to get used to seeing him, period. 

you’re also going to have to get used to this fame, if you can even call it that. normally journalists are just a name on an article, or a face you see on the local news station every once in a while, but this was different. not only were you going to be writing articles and publishing images and videos from your missions, but your face was going to be plastered everywhere. before leaving for spain, you even caught a glimpse of the breaking news segment announcing the disappearance of ashley, and your brand new identification picture that you had to take for your new job sat right next to leon’s picture on the tv as they announced who was being sent to rescue her.

eventually, you arrive to the white house, thankfully without the cameras this time. for now…

you, leon, and ashley are escorted inside and straight to the press briefing room where you all stand side by side. as even more journalists set up, a makeup artist walks over to you and begins patting your face with powder. she quickly moves on to leon and then ashley.

you look over at him. he’s locked in. it almost makes you wonder if he’s done this before. he’s done missions before, obviously, but with this amount of coverage? surely not.

“leon,” you whisper.

within a millisecond he whips his head towards you, his face softening immediately. does he always do that when he talks to you?

“hm?”

“have you done this before?”

“what, with all the press and stuff?”

you nod.

“nope,” he answers, deadpan.

you’re taken aback by this, “how are you so calm? knowing that you’re about to be on television for millions of people to see?”

he shrugs, “not sure.”

you roll your eyes at him and go back to facing the small crowd in front of you.

you can’t see it, but it almost looks like a small smirk forms on leon’s face at your reaction. it quickly disappears when the press secretary walks in and everyone, except you ashley and leon, takes a seat.

this is when the cameras begin rolling.

.✦ ݁˖

the press briefing was a blur. there was so much talking, and so many meaningless questions you were asked that you had to answer to the best of your ability. one journalist asked you why you were sent on a mission so dangerous even after having practically no experience. he even had the nerve to insinuate that you could have gotten yourself or the others killed. it took everything out of you to not cuss him out on national television, and to instead smile and reassure the country that you were trained for this. plus, you had no choice! if he had a problem with it he could have just asked the president himself.

you finally walk through the doors of your small (but cozy!) apartment and throw your duffel bag onto the floor before throwing yourself on the couch. you hadn’t looked at your phone since before you left, and honestly, you were afraid to do it now. you hesitantly take your phone out of your pocket and you power it on, waiting for the plethora of notifications you knew were about to show up on your screen. 

suddenly, the screen lights up, and sure enough, the homepage of your phone is flooded with notifications. theres texts from family members, of course, and best friends, but even people you haven’t spoken to in years. ex talking stages, mutual friends from high school, the people you did a group project with in college, everyone was reaching out to you. 

you can’t say you’re surprised, because when a picture of you, leon, and ashley getting off the plane is on the cover of every major newspaper in the country, and your press conference is being broadcast on the biggest news stations in the world, people are going to be curious. it didn’t stop you from feeling incredibly weird and uncomfortable, however.

you take a deep breath before opening your phone, ignoring all of the texts from people that you thought you would never talk to again, and immediately facetime your parents. they answer before the first ring even ends. they’re sitting next to each other on the couch of your childhood home, their faces full of relief.

“hi guys,” you say, anxiously.

“hi baby,” your mom says.

your dad adds on, “hello, sweetheart, we are so glad that you’re okay.”

you smile, and tears begin to form in your eyes.

your mom furrows her eyebrows, “what’s wrong? did something happen?”

you quickly wipe your eyes, “no, i just miss you guys.”

“we miss you even more, if you can believe it,” your dad reassures you, “you should have seen us when we turned on the news and there you were!”

you laugh mid crying, “you guys watched that shit?”

your mom is in shock that you would even ask a question like that, “of course we watched that shit! are you crazy? you did so well up there. i cannot believe it,” she looks at your dad, “we cannot believe it. we’re so proud.”

“thanks guys, seriously. i love you.”

“we love you too,” your mom looks at the time, it’s about 5:30, “well we are gonna let you go for now, you’re probably in need of a nap, and i have to start setting up.”

you fight back a yawn, “i don’t need a nap, also setting up for what?”

“having some friends over, nothing crazy. also, you look exhausted, take the nap. call us tomorrow, okay? we can’t wait to hear about your trip.”

your dad cuts her off, “i don’t know if i would call it a trip.” 

she cuts him back off, “well, it’s a work trip!”

you finally cut them both off, “okay guys, i love you, bye!”

you wave to each other and hang up the phone. you have a fairly similar phone call between you and your best friends from back home, which takes even more out of you. normally, you’re the most talkative person in the world, but right now all you want is to be left alone.

you place your phone beside you, letting an incredibly long yawn out. maybe you do need that nap. you let your head fall back and close your eyes. you need food, and a shower, but your couch is just so comfortable it’s making your eyes close on their own.

just as you feel yourself drifting into a nap, your phone rings.

“oh jesus christ.”

you pick up your phone to see who it is, and it’s a number you don’t recognize. you figure it’s probably someone you knew in high school or something, so you decline the call and put your phone down. it rings again almost immediately, so you huff before picking it back up and answering the call.

“hello?” you sound more exhausted than you’d like.

“did i wake you?”

you know that voice anywhere. you sit up.

“leon?”

a pause.

“yeah.”

“no, you didn’t wake me.” you’re actually happy to hear his voice.

“good.” he also sounds tired.

“how did you get my number?”

“well, i am a federal agent.”

you laugh, “and a creep.”

you hear what you think is a chuckle from the other end of the line.

“i just wanted to see how you were doing. after everything.” there’s genuine concern in his voice.

“i’m okay, i think.”

“you think?”

you sigh, “this is so fucking weird.”

“i know. believe me, i’m not used to this too. i have people i haven’t talked to in years asking me why the fuck im on tv.”

you gasp, sitting up, “me too! like, how inconsiderate. i’m not answering any of them.”

“good idea,” he says, “so you’re okay? even after what you saw? you’re not freaked out?”

“oh i’m totally freaked out, like i’m not sure i’ll be able to sleep tonight, but i’ll be fine. eventually.”

“you should have seen me the first time i saw a zombie, i was terrified.”

“you? terrified? i find that hard to believe.”

“oh come on, you remember how i used to act back in chicago.”

“yeah, but you were practically a kid, still learning.”

“you’re still learning too.”

“i am NOT a kid.”

“i didn’t say you were! but this was your first mission, and it was an insane one. i know you’re still scared of all that shit you encountered, but if you made it through this, you can do anything. and i mean that.”

you smile to yourself, “you do?”

“course i do.” he sounds confident in his answer.

“thank you leon, seriously.”

“anytime.”

there’s a bit of an awkward pause.

leon decides to break the ice, “so what are your plans for the rest of the day? sleeping?”

“probably,” you say, “relaxing before the dreadful task of writing my report and picking out what i want to publish. it’s gonna be so difficult going through all the photos i took. i’m not looking forward to it at all.”

leon clears his throat, “...i can help you, if you want.”

“really?”

“yeah, i mean, you’ve never written a report before, so i can give you a rundown. and we can look through the photos together. if you want.”

“i would love that, leon. oh my god i feel like a weight was just lifted off my shoulders.”

he chuckles again, “we can do it tomorrow, okay? at the office.”

“perfect. thank you. so much.”

“you are so welcome,” he says in a cocky tone, but you can tell he’s joking.

you hang up the phone. there’s a grin on your face, but you’re not sure why. i mean, he’s literally just a coworker. right?

all of the exhaustion that had taken over your body before this phone call has completely disappeared, and you’re wired now. you take advantage of this, so you quickly unpack everything from the mission, throw in a load of laundry, and take a quick shower before crashing and ordering food delivery to your apartment. the only thing that sounded appetizing after spending the last day encountering, talking about, and constantly thinking of the undead was taco bell, so taco bell it is.

you get your food and put on some random vlog you found in your youtube recommended, hoping it will take your mind off of things. after eating, you’re really tired now, so you speed through your night routine and get in bed.

you can’t stop thinking of the mission, but you also can’t stop thinking of leon. it must be because he’s just being so kind to you. you’re living in a new city, working a new (batshit crazy) job, of course he would be nice to you, he’s leon kennedy. he’s nice to everyone, even though judging by his looks, it may not seem like he would be. you find yourself being reminded of the friendship you and him had so long ago every time you talk to him. 

underneath that hard exterior is the same man you knew back then. incredibly kind, and although you refused to admit it to him back then, incredibly funny as well. you wonder why you haven’t seen him talk like that to anyone else. it’s probably nothing. you just reunited with him not that long ago, and you haven’t really seen him interact with anyone else, so you must just be thinking about things too hard. something you’ve always been good at. you try to push these thoughts away, and once you do that, you finally fall asleep.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

shockingly, you actually slept pretty well. not one nightmare about a horrific virus infecting you, being eaten alive, or any other terrifying scenario. you actually slept in a little bit, feeling more rested than you thought you would have felt.

you check the time on your phone to see that it’s already 6:25, which means you have five minutes to get out the door. your eyes widen and you immediately jump out of bed.

after a quick outfit change and no breakfast you’re out the door and driving to the pentagon. you didn’t even have time to do your makeup, which isn’t a big deal, but it would definitely make you feel better if you didn’t look completely exhausted at work.

speaking of work, why the fuck would they have you come in right after escaping death. the reports, yes, but you easily could have done it at home, on your couch, in pajamas. 

nevertheless, you arrive to work and go through security, which you are now realizing is something you’re going to have to do every single day you go to work. once you reach the entrance of your wing, you take a deep breath, scan your id card, and walk inside. 

to your surprise, nearly everybody in the office halts whatever conversations they were having and turn their heads towards you when you walk in. agents, interns, even the janitor looking as though they’ve seen a ghost, or better yet, a zombie. you pause, looking around, looking equally as horrified as everybody else.

around the corner comes chief matthews looking excited as ever. he walks up to you with a grin on his face. everyone goes back to doing their work once they see him.

“well well well, if it isn’t our new hero,” he says.

you clear your throat, “hero? i don’t know, i was just doing my job.”

he leans closer to you, his voice a whisper, “excuse my language, but you and i both know that’s bullshit. you and leon are heroes.”

a small smile appears across your face, “thank you, chief.”

“now go get cracking on that report, we need it before the weekend.”

you nod, “yes sir.”

you finally make it to your office, that is, after walking through the cubicles of your coworkers and feeling their eyes on you. you slowly turn the door handle and open the door to be greeted by leon sitting at your desk. not expecting him, you jump back slightly.

“jesus!”

“sorry, should’ve let you know,” he says, inspecting your sparse desk.

“it’s fine, just wasn’t expecting you is all.”

“weren’t expecting me? what about that report?”

“i wasn’t expecting you to be sitting in my office and at my desk,” you clarify.

outside your office are two more agents, both women, ones you have yet to be introduced to. leon gestures towards the door as a way of getting your attention.

“you have visitors.”

you turn around and see the two agents. you let yourself out of your office, leaving leon inside.

“hi!” you say to the two women.

“hi! we just wanted to introduce ourselves to you. we’ve heard so much,” one of the women says, “i’m claire. redfield.”

the name rings a bell, “nice to meet you, claire! i think i met your… brother? a few days ago.”

“yes! chris, he’s my brother,” a pause, she gestures to the woman next to her, “and this is jill valentine.”

“hello, you’re insane, by the way,” jill says.

“oh please,” you say, trying to sound humble, “it’s… okay i guess maybe i am a little insane.”

claire and jill laugh, you join them.

“that’s what i’m talking about!” claire points to your office behind you, “what’s the deal with that.”

“with what?”

“with leon,” she says, looking into your office and seeing him still sat at your desk.

“is there a deal?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“you guys just seem awfully close,” jill interjects.

you finally realize what they’re talking about, “oh! yeah, me and him trained together and we were good friends, before… y’know.”

“raccoon city?” asks claire.

you nod, slowly.

“no shit,” she says, “that was the day i met him.”

your eyes go wide, “you were there too?”

she nods, “yeah… well i guess that makes sense why he talks to you so much.”

“what do you mean?”

“leon is… quiet,” jill says, “he just tends to keep to himself most of the time, not really talking to other agents unless absolutely necessary.”

“we saw the two of you talking on your first day, and during the press conference,” adds claire, “it just isn’t really something i’ve ever seen him do with anyone at the agency. with the exception of my brother, actually.”

“really?” you ask, looking behind you before facing the women again.

“yeah,” claire says, “you guys must have had a pretty solid friendship back then.”

“i guess so.”

“we should probably get to work, huh?” jill asks claire.

“yes, definitely,” claire replies before turning to you, “it was nice meeting you, and great work out there.”

you smile, “thank you, it was nice meeting you too.”

they walk away, leaving you standing in front of your office door by yourself. you shake your head, there was no way they were serious about leon. he really doesn’t talk to anyone else? there was only one way to find out.

you head back into your office, where leon hasn’t moved a muscle.

“you ready to get started?” he asks.

“yeah,” you pause, “hey i have a question.”

“hit me.”

“what do you do for fun around here?” you ask, trying not to sound suspicious, “i just- i feel like there isn’t much to do in the city, and was wondering if you and some of the other agents ever just go out and decompress… i guess.”

“i don’t usually kick it with the other agents, but there’s museums you could-”

“why not?”

“i’m not interested in that.”

“even at work? i mean, i just haven’t seen you really talk to anyone.”

“no sense in conversing when there’s work to be done.”

“you’re conversing with me, aren’t you?”

he opens his mouth, trying to think of what to say, “you’re different.”

“different how?”

“you’re just different, that’s all.”

you nod, not wanting to push, “well, let’s start looking through everything.”

and that you did. the two of you spent the entire day in your office, sorting through photos, writing reports, and doing so while trying to ignore the short conversation you and leon had in the morning.

you were afraid to look through the pictures you took, afraid that one look at the mutilated b.o.w. you snapped a photo of was going to bring you right back to that moment, but for some reason, the photos gave you no reaction.

it’s almost as though you were distracted. you tried to pay attention, you really did, but there was something preventing you from being able to fully focus on your work. perhaps it was exhaustion, or a state of shock, or… a secret third thing.

it could not have been him, surely not. you were friends, the same way you were friends all those years ago. nothing has changed! he looks a little different, older, stronger, tougher, but deep down you knew it was the same leon kennedy you had known in chicago, and you certainly weren’t interested in him like that back then.

except, you might have had an innocent little crush on him six years ago, but that means nothing, and it has absolutely no relevance now. you were practically kids. now, you’re both adults, with serious jobs, and no time for childish crushes. judging by leon’s change in personality since the last time you saw him, it was clear that he would have agreed with you.

work comes first, especially in your field, which makes this whole internal dilemma pointless. you work for the united states government, and yet, you’re spending your time worrying about something that, in the grand scheme of life, doesn’t matter.

“do you wanna stop for the day?”

his sultry voice snaps you out of your thoughts. you look at the time and realize you should have been home by now.

“we still haven’t finished,” you reply, before getting cut off by a yawn.

leon, sat directly next to you, reaches over and closes your laptop.

“we don’t need to finish everything right now,” he protests, “and you look exhausted.”

“that obvious?” you say, looking at him with tired eyes.

“unfortunately,” he yawns too, “look, you finished the article for the newspaper, and you got a good chunk of your official report done, and you’ll definitely have time to finish it tomorrow before the weekend, so just… go home.”

“thank you for helping me.”

“always,” he says, a small smile at the corner of his mouth, “i’m gonna get going too, i’ll walk you to your car.”

“okay, cool, just give me like five minutes,” you say, beginning to pack up your belongings.

he nods, getting out of his seat and leaving your office. when you hear the door shut, you immediately exhale, like you’ve been holding your breath for the past nine hours.

so he’ll happily have a conversation with you at work, help you with your tasks, and also walk you to your car at the end of the day? you definitely were different. and he was too.

the only thing on your mind now was getting him to admit it. admit that there was something going on that wasn’t just him being friendly, because clearly him being friendly meant ignoring all of his fellow agents unless he absolutely had to talk to them.

although you were hired at the dso with virtually no experience, you still held various skills that made you stand out from the rest. weaponry, strength, agility,  journalism, but arguably the most important skill, intelligence. 

you were a quick thinker, and this skill was going to be put to use out of the workplace.

you were a frugal college student, and now, a frugal post-grad adult. your car was incredibly old, and would stall from time to time. of course, you knew all the different hacks to get it running again, but what if you didn’t? you just had to hope the odds were in your favor.

you meet back up with leon and make your way to the parking lot. for a moment you’re worried more people are going to see the two of you together and be suspicious given leons reputation, but because the two of you stayed so late, there weren’t as many people in the building.

you finally get to your car, a toyota that’s almost the same age as you. leon inspects it.

“cute,” he says, playfully.

you roll your eyes, unlocking your car, “see you tomorrow, leon.”

you get in, say a silent prayer, and insert the key into the ignition. you turn it slowly…

bingo.

the car stalls.

in any other situation, you would have popped the hood, hit a couple things, and the car would have turned on as expected. leon doesn’t know that though.

he’s a few feet away, already walking to his car, but when he hears the sound of your car failing to turn on, he quickly turns around and walks back to you. 

utilising your sparse acting skills, you try to look as annoyed as possible. as he gets closer to you, you exit the car.

“guess i’m taking the metro,” you say while laughing awkwardly.

“what happened?”

“my car decides when it does and doesn’t want to work.” you shrug, “it’s fine, though.”

“what? i can take you home.”

you pretend to act surprised, “it’s okay, seriously.”

“nah, come on. i’ll take you home, and hopefully tomorrow your car starts.”

without waiting for an answer, leon starts walking away. you quickly lock up your car and catch up to him.

“you don’t have to do this.”

he scoffs, “it’s a short drive, don’t worry about it.”

a smile creeps onto your face, but since you’re behind him, he doesn’t see it.

the two of you finally arrive to leon’s car, a black range rover. of course he would have a luxury car. god only knows how much his bi-weekly paycheck is.

he unlocks the car and walks over to the passengers side, opening the door for you.

“how kind,” you say, getting into the car.

he nods, shutting the door and getting in the drivers side. he turns the car on and hands you his phone with the gps open, and you type in your address. the two of you make eye contact for a millisecond when he turns around to back out of the parking spot, and it immediately sends a shiver down your spine.

he also has a backup camera, but apparently he prefers to do things the old school way.

the car ride is quiet, aside from the soft hum of whatever classic rock song is playing on the radio. once his car pulls up to the front of your building, you hesitate.

you didn’t think this far ahead. you wanted to spend more time with him, but you didn’t want to make it weird or awkward.

you unbuckle your seat and just before you give up and get out of the car, you look at him.

“do you wanna come in?” you ask, quietly, almost like you’re embarrassed.

you look away, afraid to hear what his answer may be. he swallows and tries to force down a smile.

“i do, yeah.”

you whip your head towards him, “you do?” a pause, “i mean, yeah, okay.”

the two of you make it into your barely furnished apartment. it’s not a depressing look, though, it’s more minimalist. chic, if you will. you do wish you had some decor around. the only real piece of decor you own is a mirror in your living room.

you can’t help but wonder what leon’s place looks like.

“do you want something to drink?”

leon looks around your apartment. he sure loves inspecting things.

“sure, what do you have?”

you stand in your kitchen looking at the single unopened bottle of wine on the counter.

he notices what you’re looking at and nods, “perfect.”

you pour two glasses of wine and make your way over to your living room, where he stands.

you pause, the two glasses still in your hand. you haven’t gotten close enough to him yet, but you feel a need to clear the air. there’s an underlying tension between the two of you, something that’s been evident since the moment you locked eyes just a few days ago.

“can i ask you something?” you ask, quietly, “and can you tell me the truth?”

you aren’t facing him, rather you’re facing the mirror. he stands a few feet behind you. you look at him through the mirror, and he looks at you. 

he doesn’t break eye contact, but it’s clear he isn’t going to answer your question so you ask it anyways.

“how am i different?”

you turn around and walk to your couch, placing one of the glasses on the coffee table. a few moments later he sits beside you.

you sip your drink, waiting for him to answer, but he leaves his glass on the table.

he takes a deep breath, “i haven’t been the same since that day.”

oh this is serious. you put your glass on the table and direct your full attention towards him.

he clears his throat, “i think people noticed a change in me after that. and it made them feel differently towards me.” he tries to think of what to say next, “i feel like when people talk to me, they’re walking on eggshells, y’know? i walk into a room and everyone goes quiet, like i’m a ticking time bomb or something.”

“i don’t know why they do it. i witnessed horrific things, lost good people, i guarantee if anyone went through what i went through they’d be acting the same, if not worse.”

he sighs, “if the other agents are too afraid to talk to me for whatever reason, whether it’s because they’re afraid of me, or because they don’t want to hurt my feelings, or whatever, why should i talk to them? believe it or not, i wouldn’t mind having a conversation with someone if they just came up to me first.”

“i understand,” you finally say something.

he shifts his body so that he is facing you fully, whereas before he was facing forward.

“with you,” he adds, “you knew me before all of that. you know who i really am, how i act, there’s no pressure talking to you. you’re not gonna tip toe around me like everybody else. that’s why you’re different.”

“of course i’m not, i just- i can’t imagine what that was like for you,” you say, trying to make him feel a little better.

“i’m really happy you’re here. you have no idea.”

“i think i have some idea.”

he smiles, like genuinely smiles. a grin appears across his face, and you try not to react, but you haven’t seen him smile like that in six years. it’s almost like you can see all 32 teeth.

the sight of him makes you break out into a grin, and the two of you start giggling on your couch like kids.

you decide it’s finally time to bite the bullet.

“i missed that smile.”

he rolls his eyes, but you can tell you made him giddy.

“i missed your smile too,” he admits, “and everything else.”

“you’re just saying that.”

“i mean it. and i meant it when i told you i looked for you. every day since i left.”

it wasn’t all in your head. there was something.

you look at him, wondering who was going to say something next. the silence is giving you goosebumps. you can’t look at him, so you look away.

“can i kiss you?” he finally asks.

you look at him once more, and you bite your lip to prevent yourself from grinning again. gotta keep cool!

instead of answering his question, you lean in and kiss him, slowly.

he kisses you back, also slowly. you feel his large hand cup your cheek.

this rhythm continues for a few moments before leon seemingly gets ahead of himself and kisses you harder.

immediately, he pulls back, his face turning red.

“why did you stop?” you ask, sounding somewhat disappointed.

“i don’t know- i didn’t know if you-” he can’t even look at you.

“leon…” you whisper.

he looks at you.

you kiss him again, hard, mimicking the roughness that made him pull away just moments before.

he follows your lead, now using both hands to cup your face.

your hands reach for him, but they aren’t quite sure where to go. you start by cupping his cheeks, and then slowly you trail down his jaw, and then his neck, before reaching his shoulders. 

you hold onto them, tight. you’re so caught up in kissing him that you don’t realize just how hard you’re holding onto him until you accidentally dig your nails into him and a groan escapes the back of his throat.

the sound instantly makes your breath hitch and you quietly moan into his mouth.

you can’t take this build up any longer, so you hoist yourself up and onto his lap, straddling him. you manage to do this without separating your mouth from his. 

you start involuntarily bucking your hips against his, trying to create even the smallest bit of friction to combat the feeling of heat building between your legs.

“fuuuck…” he says into your mouth.

with every passing moment you feel his length hardening beneath you.

you pull away for just a moment, panting, “i need more…”

he nods, eagerly, “what are you doing to me?”

a cocky grin appears on your face as you reach for the bottom of his shirt. you take his shirt off with urgency, and he quickly does the same to you.

he kisses you again, and seamlessly unclips your bra with one hand, because, obviously he can do that.

he pulls away for a moment to admire you on his lap, which makes you shy.

“breathtaking.” it’s all he can manage to say.

you stand up for just a second to unbutton and take off your jeans, and as you do this, leon does the same to his jeans.

now, with you back on his lap, you slowly grind your already damp underwear onto the apparent bulge in his boxers.

you can feel him twitching beneath you as he starts peppering kisses all over your face, neck, and finally breasts. 

he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the stiff peak. this elicits a louder moan from you, and suddenly, the grinding just isn’t enough.

you lean into his ear, your voice a whisper, “fuck me, please.”

“yes ma’am,” he pulls back and whispers back to you.

he reaches down, grabbing the waistband of his boxers, and pulling them down to reveal his cock, which stands basically upright and is already leaking at the tip.

your mouth practically waters at the sight of him.

he looks you in the eyes, seemingly waiting for a confirmation that everything is okay, you nod slightly, which prompts him to grab your panties and move them to the side.

he slowly inserts himself into you, which is incredibly easy for him given your arousal practically leaking out of you. this contact feels euphoric, and you can’t help but let your eyes roll into the back of your head.

you allow yourself to fully sink down onto him, before coming up, and repeating the action.

you continue doing this, making sure that his tip hits your sweet spot every time you bottom out.

your hands lay against his bare chest, while his rest on your hips. he doesn’t guide you, or keep the rhythm going, he simply wants to touch you, and that just so happens to be the perfect spot for him to rest his hands.

he’s happy to let you take the lead. truth be told, he would be happy to do anything for you.

you continue riding him, the two of you spewing profanities that echo throughout the practically empty apartment until you feel the warm feeling building in your stomach.

“i- i’m gonna-” you can barely get words out, the feeling of him filling you can be compared to that of drugs.

“i know, i know. it’s okay,” he reassures.

his voice is enough to send you over the edge, and give you what might be the best orgasm you’ve ever experienced in his life.

your pace continues, your whole body twitching, as a way to not only ride out your own climax, but to also not deny him of his own.

your moans are like music to his ears, and the sound of you reaching your peak allows him to finally reach his. 

you feel his dick twitch inside you, as he groans into the crook of your neck. his release coats your inner walls, and once the both of you are finished, the only sound in the small apartment is the sound of the two of you catching your breaths. 

with him still inside you, you collapse, letting your arms gently wrap around him.

“i don’t wanna fucking work tomorrow,” you say, casually, like he didn’t just fuck you into next week.

he laughs, “i don’t either.”

[f41ryb0nes]

⌖ unconventional methods ⌖

USSTRATCOM was hell, and brutal training made many recruits desperate to blow off steam. For you? That resulted in earning the title of barracks bunny.

But Leon? You liked him too much to reduce him to a notch on your belt, so you avoided him as much as you could since he caught on. Easier said than done being Krauser's top two recruits.

And Krauser? Nothing got past him. He knew exactly what had you both distracted, and he knew how to fix it.

ao3 ⌖ wc: 14.5k ⌖ insp part _ of three’s company

tags: Leon Kennedy/Reader/Jack Krauser, m/f/m smut, cisfem!reader, mostly leon/reader but also spitroasting, repressed feelings, p in v, creampie, degradation, slut shaming, begging, orgasm denial, cockdrunkenness, overstimulation, hair pulling, voyeurism, krauser backseat gaming from the cuck chair, krauser is a sadist, boot kink, dacryphilia, corruption?, slapping, choking, knife play, extremely dubious consent/noncon (reader enjoys/is non-resistant but the dove is in hospice, you’ve been warned)

a/n: I would like to apologize to feminism and also to god. wc is like 80% spice

Personal lives are nonexistent for the poor souls who train at USSTRATCOM; in fact, they’re outright forbidden. But the human will is a stubborn thing, and experiencing constant, extreme conditions makes many recruits willing to do extreme things to fulfill any personal desire at all. Whether it be sneaking a book to their bunk or rubbing one out in the showers, there’s only one rule: don't get caught.

But none are more stubborn than you and Leon Kennedy. It's why you’d each survived the experiences that landed you in military custody in the first place. You’re too stubborn to fail, too hard-headed to die. At least that’s what Krauser always says; that that’s how you both so quickly rose to be his two most-promising recruits

But being on Major Krauser's pedestal came with crippling pressure to keep ahold of his fickle approval. Every trainee lives under his constant scrutiny, and no slip-up is too small to go unnoticed. And his attention, good or bad, isn't something anyone wants to have. 

Krauser stated his goal explicitly on the very first day of training— "I will break you" —and he makes good on that promise every single day. Those who he sees as weak are given extra drills and rounds in the fighting ring until they puke from overexertion, and those he believes in are pushed past their limits, resulting in the exact same end.

So to say that you’re stressed would be a laughable understatement, and you blow off steam in equal measure when you can. And since you’re constantly reduced to nothing but a primal instinct to survive, your vice of choice is somewhat primal as well.

You’re a classic barracks bunny. Sue you for having needs, but there are worse things to be. Besides, all female recruits are on a steady diet of birth control, so the number of risks are relatively few.

Leon, however, didn’t exactly seem to approve. He never brought it up, but you once locked eyes with him as you snuck out of the men’s barracks, and it didn’t take a genius to guess what you’d been doing there at such a late hour. He’d never make you feel bad about it, and you hardly had time to dwell on it in the scarce minutes of the day not spent training or sleeping, but you were sure you caught a sour look of disapproval in his eyes. 

You and Leon were once as close to friends as anyone could be in a hellscape like USSTRATCOM, so if you’re being honest, yeah, you’re a bit embarrassed that he’d caught you like that, and you haven’t been able to fight off the pangs of guilt you feel in his presence now. So although the topic has gone untouched, it's been a little tense between you ever since; just enough to notice but not enough to address. 

Besides, the kind of tension is the only thing that’s new between you and Leon. Tension sprouted within the very first days of group training and had grown ever since, and other people noticed, too. They all chalked it up to being competitive rivals, but it was anything but that. 

You have the fattest, most hopeless crush on him ever. Hell, you’re one bad day or BOW incident away from admitting that you’re in love.

That’s what makes you feel so guilty about the subtle glint of disappointment you keep finding in Leon's gaze now. Wondering what he thinks about you makes you beyond anxious, and you doubt you'll ever have the time or courage to find out.

There’s a reason you sneak off into nearly everyone's barracks but his, after all: you like him far too much to seek him out for a quick and dirty indulgence. Leon means far more to you than a notch on your belt, and you wouldn’t be able to stand it if you put yourself in a position where he categorized you as a hookup and nothing more.

But what cuts the most? Assuming he feels disappointed in you might be wishful thinking. He most likely thinks you’re a whore, that you’re reckless and irresponsible, probably shares all the typical judgments you know get whispered behind your back. 

Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if he hates you with how he’s been acting cold. 

So despite how much you want him and how often you imagine his face while someone else is balls-deep inside, you’ll never invite yourself into his room, much less admit your feelings for him. Plus, it’s kind of comforting to pretend sleeping around will help you get over your crush.

But your vice of choice has more consequences than those of emotional repression. You have to sacrifice a non-insignificant amount of your already scarce sleep hours to sneak around— and today, the exhaustion has finally caught up to you.

Your aim isn't as sharp, you don't anticipate the most obvious counterattacks, and you’re all-around slower on your feet. Careless mistakes that are totally unlike you, big and small. And no matter how hard you try to muster your strength and focus, dammit, you just can’t stop fucking up.

And none of it got past Major Krauser. That results in him keeping you late for after-hours training, but he isn't one to make a recruit suffer alone. Knowing you’ve dragged someone else into it is a part of the punishment in itself. 

So naturally, being the top two recruits, he chose Leon to join you. Just your fucking luck. 

That's how you find yourself here in the indoor ring somewhere after 23:00 hours, the air pushed from your lungs as you crash back-first onto the floor with a knife against your throat for the umpteenth time in a row. 

Krauser is seriously a sick bastard for making you spar with sharpened weapons, by the way, but that isn't breaking news. Just another "privilege" that comes with being his top recruits.

Leon never goes easy on you, either, but this feels different. Like he really does hate you and is taking his frustrations out with each painful blow to your body. The idea doesn't help you focus, and it isn't long before another miscalculation sends you back against the ground, staring at your tired eyes in the reflection of a knife that would've gouged them out in anyone else's hands. 

"You're tired. It’s pathetic. You think the enemy will care that you didn’t get your beauty sleep?”

“No, sir,” you reply through a wheeze as you try to recover your breathing. 

“Again.”

Despite your screaming muscles and the tiredness clouding your head, you stand up at once. You make yourself small as you shift your weight between your feet, poised to move wherever you’ll need to. As your combat knife shines in the gymnasium lights where you hold it in front of you, raised within your fist, you look Leon dead in the eyes and gear up for yet another fight. 

“Go!”

Leon beats you to the opening move. You dodge to the side. For some reason you put your fucking hand out to block him, and it does nothing to stop his knee from reeling straight into your gut. 

You cough and sputter but remain on your feet, stepping back to create a touch of distance to calculate your next move. But you’re more tired than ever now, and your body can’t keep up with your brain. 

As riled up as Leon is, the late hours are getting to him, too.

In a second, he came at you again with a strong left hook. Too stong for an opening blow, especially with a fist instead of his weapon. At last, you see an opening for attack. 

You use his momentum against him, pulling him through by the wrist. He twists sideways to stay upright, and needing to adjust your own balance, you send a sharp kick onto his back. Your eyes widen with adrenaline as it lands just as harshly as you intended; the upper hand finally seems within your reach. 

Or not. He hooks an arm around the back of your knee while your other leg is still mid-kick, and with nothing more than a shove to your chest, you’re on the ground again, pinned in the exact same position as before. 

“Absolutely disgraceful,” Krauser barks. “You’re distracted, rookie.”

You blink once at Leon who’s looking down at you with a similarly confused expression. Although you both fit the title, ‘rookie’ has long since been exclusively reserved for Leon. But you were the one who was called here tonight to be punished; why was Krauser drilling him?

Your knit brows turn to widened eyes as Leon attempts to rise but is stopped by a boot on his back. 

“Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind, pretty boy?”

It’s clearly a trap question, and the pet name is laced with anything but admiration. Leon purses his lips and opens them as he attempts to think of an acceptable answer, but he’s obviously at a loss. You wonder what sadistic plan Krauser has in store as he awaits Leon’s response, and you grow somewhat fearful for the younger man.

Though he speaks with a sure tone, Leon only manages a single word, like he thinks he can get around it by gathering more information first.

“Sir?”

Krauser adding weight to his stance on Leon’s back is all it takes to know it didn’t work.

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“No, sir,” you and Leon say in unison. 

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Krauser spat in your direction. 

“Then tell me,” Krauser continued, his attention returning solely to Leon, “why you’re face-to-face with what’s distracting you, and you can’t tell me what it is. Do you think I haven’t noticed?” 

You get halfway through the thought of “noticed what?” before Krauser pushes Leon down further, so close that the wispy ends of his bangs brush against your cheekbones. You gulp against the knife that still hovers over your neck, but the sharpened edge doesn’t make you feel nearly as nervous as whatever the fuck is happening right now.

You’re used to being in close proximity with Leon in training, but this is entirely different. It’s intimate. Uncomfortably so. It makes your head spin too fast to think about what Krauser just implied.

Instead, your attention is preoccupied with avoiding Leon’s eyes like you’ve been doing for weeks now, but with him this close-range, he’s everywhere, so close that your eyes threaten to cross. You can see every pore on his nose, the moles that constellate his neck, the lines in his forehead where he’ll have wrinkles in ten or so years. 

God, he even looks good this up close and personal. Every detail makes your heart skip and your ears get hot, even in a nerve-racking situation like this. Even when you look away from his stupidly beautiful face, all you can see are his biceps straining as he holds himself over you, flexing against his shirt as he holds himself up against Krauser’s unyielding boot. 

Your adolescent anguish is cut short by Krauser’s attention returning to you.

“That’s why you’re so tired today, isn’t it? From being in this position?”

Oh. Oh no.

A cold wave shoots through you as you realize what all of this is really about. Of course word got around about your late-night escapades; you just didn’t think it’d find its way to Krauser unless he caught you in the act. You now know what a fool you were for ever thinking that.

Krauser and Leon are by far the last people you're ready to address it with, and Krauser just had to bring it up while he keeps you pinned inches beneath the latter. 

It has to be some kind of divine punishment. This is the absolute worst-case scenario. Far worse than you ever could've imagined. The only place to hide is behind the refuge of your eyelids, so you squeeze them tightly shut.

Krauser keeps on twisting the metaphorical knife with a devious laugh that rumbles in his chest.

“You’re awful quiet, rookie. Not gonna defend your lady’s honor? Or, don’t tell me… are you the only one she hasn’t fucked?” 

Your heartbeat turns into a war drum that threatens to beat through your ribs. You're sure Leon can feel it thrum in the air between you. You pray to god in all his mercy to open the ground and swallow you whole, but no such thing will happen.

Leon, however, is praying to a wrathful god to smite Krauser where he stands. He can’t handle it. The humiliation, the intentional offensiveness. The stunning accuracy. Being confronted with it in such a demeaning way. He could maybe take it on the chin if it'd only been about himself, but Leon has long since become protective of you, and he carries your degradation as if it's his own. It's the perfect setup to make him seethe, and Krauser pushes him further with every syllable.

“I asked you a question. Have you fucked her or not?”

Leon’s chest becomes thick with heat as his rage dials up to a fever pitch, nostrils flaring and knuckles whitening around the combat knife. It's hardly at your neck anymore, but you're keenly aware of it.

You're beyond uneasy, but you can’t do anything. You can’t move except to squirm, you don’t have a white flag to raise, and you don’t dare speak out of turn. Anything you say right now won’t be helpful anyway; you’re ultimately the reason you three are here, and any attempt to deescalate would absolutely be thrown right back in your face.

You scream internally to Leon as you see his anger dial up to ten, hoping he’s close enough that if your thoughts are simply loud enough they’ll be able to reach him.

Don’t put yourself on the line for me, you think over and over. But telepathy doesn’t happen to be a weapon in your arsenal, and Leon seldom possesses the ability to bite his tongue. So however reckless it might be, he tries to change the subject by steering it towards an argument.

“Go fuck yourself, sir.”

You wince as you prepare for Krauser to skin him alive, but to your surprise, he doesn’t take the bait. Leon avoiding the question is answer enough, so Krauser coolly clicks his tongue, and his level-headedness makes the situation all the more terrifying.

“Just as I thought. Is that why you threw all those haymakers? Want to keep pinning her down just to get a taste? You know damn well that won’t work on the field.”

It’s insane, the way Krauser can tie anything back to training, but his words hit right where he aimed them, and it’s Leon’s turn to be unable to face you as he tries to keep his cool. Tough work, since Krauser’s on a roll.

“She’s obviously easy; why haven’t you just asked her, Kennedy?”

Leon’s jaw sets tighter. 

“Afraid that she’d reject you?” 

Krauser hits a bullseye. It’s all too clear now that humiliation is Krauser’s goal, and neither of you can leave without it being shoved down your throats. Watching Leon reel between emotions is giving you secondhand whiplash, but it’s only a few seconds before he grits his teeth and lets go of his dignity. 

“Because I—” he swallows hard, “I like her, sir.”

The confession hits you like a battering ram, and for a moment, the room is so quiet your ears ring. 

He doesn’t hate you. He likes you. A part of you could cry you were so happy, but with the situation at hand, how could you possibly be content? It brings on a wave of emotions that surfaces all the ones you’d been shoving down for months.

Feelings like that are impossible to foster in a hellhole like this. Sleeping around is one thing, but romance? What could even come of it being mutual? For those reasons and many more, you’d accepted it being hopeless a long time ago. And now that Krauser knew— and had apparently set this all up because he’d known for a while— you were now sure that he’d brought you here just to murder your dreams in cold blood. 

So there you and Leon lay on top of each other, no warmth or sweetness about it, faced with each other as symbols of your failures to cope. All you can do is wait for Krauser to rip your hearts out and incinerate them so they’ll never distract you again.

“What a goddamn sweetheart,” Krauser tuts, shaking his head. “You’re too soft. And you’re letting it get in the way instead of taking the clear fucking solution.”

The air goes still as you brace for whatever twisted “solution” he might have in mind, mentally preparing to run drills until sunrise or engage in some sick psychological simulation where you’d come to hate each other. Either would be perfectly up Krauser’s alley.

You were once again a fool to think you could predict him. You never would have expected what happened next. 

He crushes his boot into Leon's lower back until his navel is fixed solidly against your center. Hissing at the sudden contact, Leon swiftly pushes away as much as he can, but it isn’t much; although you aren’t quite face-to-face anymore, the Major’s full bodyweight keeps Leon’s lower half trapped flush against you. 

Startled astonishment washes over your face as you realize what exactly it is you feel pressed against you: at some point during tonight’s training, Leon got hard. You hadn’t noticed, but Krauser apparently did. 

Oh my god you feel like an idiot. You were too distracted by your fucking feelings to notice that he was hard. What the actual fuck.

You’re trying not to panic. You’re exactly where you want to be, but it’s in the least conceivable scenario possible. You scan Leon’s face wildly to find some sort of confidence in him that you can hold onto, a muscle memory of the looks you’ve often exchanged to get through training, but he’s just as frantic as you are as he tries to stay still, to not move an inch against you. 

Leon is very keenly aware of the fact that you didn’t ask for this, haven’t said that it’s okay, and the shame he feels at his exposed arousal sits like a death grip around his neck. He has no reason to think you were even interested in him; you hadn’t said anything since whatever the fuck this is began— and if you didn’t want it, what could you even do about it? It felt like a noose around his neck, and Krauser kept dragging him by it, tightening the rope with each syllable he spoke. 

“Close encounters really do it for you, huh? You like holding a pretty girl down, feeling her struggle against your cock? Maybe you’re not such a boy scout; you’re more like me than you think.”

Any thoughts you had about his statement went in one ear and out the other as Krauser moves his heel to rut Leon back and forth against you, grinding his cock smoothly and firmly against your clothed cunt. You nearly choke at the electric current it sends rushing through your core.

Even though Leon isn’t moving on his own accord, even if the inner war he’s waging against himself is written all over his face, he’s pressed so staunchly against you that you feel every twitch of his cock as it grows harder. 

It shouldn’t send a rush of thrill through you, but it does.

You bite your lip as another ebb of downward pressure increases the friction and makes the feeling too bright to ignore. Just as Leon can’t help his body reacting to yours, you’re resistless to the way you unconsciously arch into him. 

“Don’t be so shy. Look at her, she likes it.”

That makes Leon finally look at you head-on, and your face floods with a blush so hot it burns, because it’s undeniably true. You did like it. It felt good. A mental hell alongside physical heaven, but heaven nonetheless.

His hips grind into your core again—shaky, but this time of his own volition— before he raggedly whispers, "Do you…? Do you want me?”

You struggle to keep the intensity of his gaze, but you know what he’s really asking for: the truth. You try to show as much surety as you can as you nod your head against the padded ground, sharing it like a lifeline.

“Y-yeah. Yes.”

Krauser interjects with an eye roll and his trademark condescension. “You’re still too goddamn soft. You still have a knife in your hand, for god’s sake, that’s all the permission you need.”

Twisted fucking bastard, Leon thinks, his grip tightening around the hilt of the blade where he holds it beside your head. He stares straight into your eyes with an intensity that says he isn’t readying it for you. Your gut churns all the same. 

Luckily for you both, the major moves on from it. His boot leaves Leon’s back and he shudders in relief, exhaling deeply as he’s able to part his body from yours. 

It’s a short-lived reprieve as a broad shadow falls from overhead. Krauser looms from above with menacing casualness, thumbs hooked in his belt loops as he cocks his head in amusement.

"Go on, then. Kiss her."

You freeze in place and watch Leon as you remain stuck under him, breathlessly waiting to see if he takes the opportunity, heart pounding as you wonder if he should. 

Leon hardly pauses. An order is an order, and he’s getting used to that, as unconventional as they may be. He huffs, leans in halfway, and then retracts another inch; knits his brows together and shakes his head, either deciding against it or shaking off his last bits of resistance. You couldn’t tell which, at least not until he suddenly closes the distance.

It's the gentlest kiss you've ever received. His plush and impassioned lips skim lightly over yours as he still struggles to take what he so clearly wants. And god, you want him too, and you lift your chin in an attempt to press your mouths closer together, but it’s no use; he retreats just enough to leave you attached by the cupid's bow and a brushing of noses.

Krauser is less than impressed by the soft display. Gripping Leon by the crown of his hair, he admonishes, "I said kiss her, rookie," and all but crushes his face into yours.

You inhale sharply as Leon's lips fuse together intensely with your own. He twitches in surprise, grinding into you again inadvertently. The friction evokes a needy rasp from him, lips parting from the sound just enough for your tongues to meet— fleetingly at first, then reckless and deep as passion wins out against restraint. 

Leon grinds again, this time with intention as you start to melt into each other, having nowhere to go but further into each other’s bodies. Krauser's hand leaves Leon's scalp as he becomes pleased, finally, with his energy. He circles like a shark as he keeps a watchful eye.

Leon becomes more intense as he gains full room to move on his own, like the levee broke for his desire to surge violently and freely, a desire that’d been held back for months of anguish. 

The knife he’d held became forgotten on the ground as his hands grasped for you without instruction, shakily at first, then fervently all around you. His calloused fingertips run across your jawline and down your neck before roaming to your breast, but he doesn't squeeze, not until you arch to push into him yourself. 

It instantly gives him permission to squeeze your flesh firmly, and every movement suddenly becomes urgent. Your tongues clash sloppily, his stiff bulge ruts back and forth against your core, and you can’t help but clamor for him in turn— your thighs hook tight around his waist to pull him further in, to help you relieve the growing pressure between your legs as your head becomes thick with need. 

You nearly forgot Krauser was there at all until he speaks again with a gruff and low tone you've never heard from him before.

"Good. Keep going.”

You can't deny that someone else being in the room turns your brain somewhat mushy. In fact, it turns you on. You're adventurous, sure, but that's a shocking revelation even for you.

More shocking than that, the third party is your major, and he's telling Leon what to do as if he's giving normal orders. Those are ideas you'd laugh yourself sick at half an hour ago, but now here you are, and you feel your underwear slicken with each directive word and the ache to be permitted more.

But unbeknownst to you, that's the first of many things Krauser will awaken in you tonight. Right now, you don't even know how far he plans to take this. But you've spent months being primed to do whatever insane things he demands, and what you do know is that you'd do just about anything to earn more of the young man on top of you. So ever the good soldier, you let your commander lead you wherever he sees fit, and Leon does just the same.

“Take her top off.”

The cool gymnasium air contrasts with Leon's warm hand as it drags your shirt up your torso, leaving goosebumps in its wake as you shuffle to allow him to lift it over your head, lips parting only as long as they need to. Your top becomes discarded somewhere on the floor, forgotten before it lands. 

You tremble under Leon's touch as he roams the soft curves of your stomach, gliding upward until he traces the top hem of your sports bra. He hooks his fingertips under the hem and pauses with trepidation, resting his forehead against yours as he bucks into you. By the look on his face, his trousers are becoming a painful confinement.

Leon waits for permission or to have the rug pulled from under him and be told this is all a sick joke, until Krauser gives the former. Just not before making him sweat first.

“You wanna fuck her, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Leon shudders while looking down at you, relishing the slightest touch he currently has on your body.

“That’s ‘yes, sir.’ How many times have you jerked off thinking about it?”

Leon gulps before answering, feeling every ounce as humiliated as Krauser intended him to. 

“T-too many to count, sir.”

“Then take it off.”

It crosses your mind that no one’s asked if you’re fine with being stripped in front of an audience of two, but you’re not exactly apt to complain about Leon getting you naked.

Leon fumbles briefly with the tight elastic band before it’s whisked over your head and added to the growing collection of forgotten garments on the floor mat. You turn your head to the side, shying away as Leon takes in a full view of your nipples as they pebble in the cool air. But when you look to the side, your gaze lands on Krauser. 

“Mistake” is your first thought. “Was it?” is the immediate second. All you know is that he’s leaned coolly against the edge of the arena rubbing his thick bulge through his pants as he watches intently. The sight makes you feel like you’ve caught on fire, and you quickly look away.

You have no more time to dwell on it as Leon pinches your nipple between his index finger and his thumb, rolling it between them with a reverent sigh at your reaction, then pulling it up and letting it drop. He repeats it on the other side, and your thighs clench around his hips as the stimulation goes straight to your core. 

You can barely stand the teasing, and your hands find their way underneath Leon’s shirt. The feeling of his taut abs does nothing to quell you, though. It only drives home that the current sensations you’re being afforded aren't anywhere near enough. But right as you feel like you’re going mad, it all comes to a stop.

“Sit up, rookie.”

You whine as Leon does as he’s told, your hands leaving the heat of his stomach as he sits back on his haunches, , still with the exception of the labored rise and fall of his chest, his hands clasped behind his back, and your spit still wet on his lower lip. You’re left deprived of all touch, breathless and exposed, brows twisted up with neediness as you wait.

Krauser’s heavy and measured footsteps towards you are menacing. You don’t dare to look until he comes into view on his own, and from the steep angle up that you have, the large tent in his pants is imposing. It nearly obstructs his face as he stands directly over you. 

“Pretty…” He hums as he appraises the skin that’s been exposed on you so far, and it’s perhaps the first kind thing he’s ever said to you. It sounds foreign in his voice, but then he goes right back to his usual demands. “Strip down, all of it.”

You hesitate for a brief moment before sitting up and unlacing your boots with shaky hands, all too aware of the eyes on you as you discard them and lay back down to fumble with your belt and zipper. It feels all the more exposing to be undressing yourself as opposed to it being done for you somehow, and you try to push away the feeling of awkwardness as you raise your hips and push your bottoms down in one go. You keep your knees together as much as you can as you foot them off of your ankles and kick them away beside you, and rest back down, now totally bare.

The cold air is nothing against the heat of their gazes as you lie there totally bare, awaiting the first touch. It comes from the rubber of Krauser’s boot as he parts your legs with it.

If Leon weren’t already on his knees, he would’ve fallen to them right then and there. He practically salivates as your pussy is revealed before him, and every nervous twitch of yours makes your wetness glisten in the fluorescent lights. His hands flex where they’re clasped behind him, and his throat tightens as his cock becomes painfully hard within his pants. Still fully clothed, he feels hot, far too hot, as the first traces of sweat begin to form on his skin from the sheer effort it takes not to dive into you.

Krauser hums at the sight of you and takes the toe of his boot to the soft crease where thigh meets ass, and lets the rubber press onto your flesh to pull your cunt open to them. You whine as you feel your slick pool out as your opening flutters for touch. 

“Look at that,” Krauser muses. “No wonder everyone wants a taste. A pussy like that is just begging to be ruined. Isn’t it, Kennedy?”

What is Leon supposed to do here? Say he doesn’t want to ruin you for anyone else? It’d be a bold-faced lie, and he’d agree with just about anything Krauser says right now if it lets him get what’s being dangled right in front of him.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Your cock even big enough to ruin her? Or is that why you haven’t gotten with her?” 

For perhaps the first time in Leon’s life, he suddenly feels unsure. He’s never been insecure about his size before, never had a reason to be. He knows he’s well-endowed. But the major always has impossibly high standards. What if this is no different? What will happen if he doesn’t meet them now?

Leon gulps before answering with a shaky breath, although he tries to sound more sure. “Yes, sir.”

“Let’s see it then.”

Leon nearly gets cold feet, but seeing you spread before him is enough to throw his modesty to the wind. His fingers are clumsy in their quickness as he undoes his pants just enough to get his cock free, and he hisses at the contact of his fingers pulling it out by the base. He can’t stop himself from pumping it once between his fingers, but it takes nothing more than a disapproving glance from Krauser for him to put his hands back at his sides.

His fists become white-knuckled as his hardness hangs obstinately in the air. It’s framed by his still-on t-shirt falling over his navel, the waistband of his briefs sitting snugly under his balls, and his cock springing free between his parted zipper; not much skin is showing, really, but it’s all the more lewd a sight for it.

“Oh, shit,” is all you manage to breathe out.

Short, dark blond hairs silhouette the base, and his tip is an angry pink as it begins to shine with the emergence of a clear bead of precum. It hangs heavily in the air, jolting up once as he bites his lip in arousal, and you catch sight of the coursing vein that runs up the side. He’s long and so thick in girth, and your toes curl at the thought of him trying to fit it all inside of you.

God, what a fool you’ve been for jumping between barracks for sex that was often unsatisfactory and only a means to an end. All this time, you could’ve had Leon instead.

It’s an undeniably captivating sight, even for Krauser, who inhales through his teeth as he too takes it in with his eyes. But still, he isn’t one to give his praise so easily.

“Not bad. Let’s hope you know how to use it.”

You whine in surprise as Krauser suddenly fixes the toe of his boot into you and slowly circles around your clit, and Leon grimaces as he tastes copper from how hard he bites down on his lip.

“Because if you don’t,” Krauser taunts, “I’ll have to take over.”

Your pulse soars at the prospect, fear and arousal intertangling into one. Whether or not that’d happen lies entirely with Leon, but it could very well be a trap; the same as being told that training could end early if you do well enough, but no one can ever do well enough for Krauser. He gets too much sick pleasure in dangling hope over your head, fully knowing you’ll never reach it and enjoying watching you struggle to anyway, and this situation is no different.

A moan leaves your parted lips as Krauser presses his boot more firmly into your clit and rubs it left to right. He chuckles thinly at your response.

“She really is easy, soaking just from my boot. Fucking filthy.” He glides it up and down to literally rub it in, making your legs twitch as he presses into your clit, then looks at you and nods towards Leon. “You like what you see?”

“Mmhm,” you nod needily through pursed lips as you tremble under the crude ministrations against your pussy your eyes still fixed on Leon’s increasingly leaking cock.

He lands a soft kick to your clit, nowhere near enough to hurt, but enough to feel the threat and a sharp jolt of pleasure up your spine. 

“Yes, sir,” you correct yourself breathlessly.

He spreads your slick a little more, purely playing with it now as he addresses Leon again.

“Don’t let it go to your head. How many cocks have been in here just since training started…? Bet this whore could cum just from my goddamn boot.” 

Krauser finally steps back, leaving you shaking and untouched yet again, your lips pressed into a thin line as you pray the question remains rhetorical. It does, at least for you.

“But you don’t mind, do you, Kennedy? You like her enough that you’re alright with sloppy seconds? Thirds? Twentieths maybe..?”

Leon's chest flares. Your body count has never once factored into his envy. He just wants you— evidently, by any means necessary. And you being degraded like that? It stokes his anger all over again, and he once again fails to bite his tongue, the contempt clear in his tone as he speaks through a snarl. 

“She’s the whore? You’re the one treating your recruits like a harem, sir.”

Krauser seizes Leon by the bangs, making the younger man yelp as he’s yanked forward by the hair until he’s on all fours in front of you, his face inches away from your cunt. Leon hisses as thick fingers pull viciously at his roots and shake his head in front of your center like a cruel owner admonishing a dog.

“Shut your goddamn mouth— put it to good use before I fuck her and make you watch.”

With no precursor at all, Leon is shoved face-first between your legs. You gasp in shock at the suddenness; with no prior warning for him to begin with any sort of finesse, he lands against you with panting, parted lips, his nose is squished down from the position, pressed just beside your clit.

It takes Leon a second to collect himself, though he does so as quickly as possible once he wraps his mind around his position, nose deep in the part of you he’s been starving for the most. 

Krauser continues to hold him there harshly even as he begins to lap frantically. 

“Where’s all that snark now, huh?”

Leon doesn’t answer— Krauser doesn’t pull him back for him to be able to— instead he moans hard at the taste of your cunt.

Your folds wetten with Leon’s spit as his face collects your arousal, and you whine continuously as he sloppily makes out with your cunt. Being constantly pushed into you makes each stroke of his tongue press firmly wherever it lands around and within the whole of your cunt. It drags up and down, drawing quick and sloppy circles around the expanse of your vulva and the soft skin between your lower lips, flicking over your clit at the top and darting fully into your hole at the bottom.

It’s so vulgar and divine, but it’s too intense too suddenly, and your thighs clamp down around Leon’s head. Krauser just presses him in even further and Leon sucks your clit in compliance, flicking his tongue against the bud inside the vacuum of his mouth, and you yelp and tense your legs harder around his face. But Krauser still has one hand free, and he uses it to hold you open by the knee nearest to him, and despite your whining efforts, his grip is far too strong to budge free of.

You groan in relief as Leon moves on from his onslaught of your clit and dig your nails into the padded floor as he assaults the whole of your core instead, all while Krauser keeps your legs spread wide for him.

The wet sounds of his tongue along with frantic moans from you both fill the room as you reel towards your seventh heaven, and Krauser can tell— of course he can. It’d be obvious to anyone that you’re on the brink from the way you increasingly arch against the floor. But the absolute sight of you isn’t the only thing that makes it obvious; you’re finding it increasingly difficult to muzzle yourself and you mumble pathetically between labored breaths.

“I– ah, ahhh, Leon fuck— oh-hh…”

And it’s borderline petulant the way you whine when Leon’s mouth leaves you all at once. Your head shoots up in shock at the loss, looking to see what caused your release to be denied, but nothing had happened except for Krauser’s cruel whim.

You’re equally shocked to see the look on Leon’s face. Still on all fours and held back by his hair, his mouth is swollen, pink, and shining with slick from the bridge of his nose to the cleft of his chin. His moans are light as if he’s breaking fever and his eyes are half-lidded like he’s drunk. His cock hangs neglected between his legs with a thick string of glossy precum connected from the head to where it’s dripped down to the floor. But the most shocking of all is the faint smile that pulls at the corners of his puffy mouth as Krauser pulls his hair a little tighter.

‘How’s she taste, huh?”

“Incredible, sir.”

“Yeah? You taste any cock still in there?”

Leon’s nostrils flare and his mouth opens into a snarl, but before he can spit whatever insult he has in mind, Krauser yanks his head back painfully and growls.

“Better watch that mouth, kid, or you’ll be eating my cum out of her next.”

Krauser sends him back on his knees with a shove to the head and then rises to stand again, jostling his hard-on thickly through his pants as yet another threat. “Or maybe I’ll shut you up another way, eh?”

The silent grimace on Leon’s face is much to Krauser’s amusement as he berates him with a smile, still stroking his bulge.

“That’s what I thought. Fucking ungrateful. I let you eat her out and you’re acting like a damn brat. You think I should let you fuck her? Huh?”

Swallowing his pride, Leon answers. “Please, sir.”

“That’s what I thought. Beg.”

That’s a demand Leon is a touch too stubborn to easily do. He clenches his eyes and grinds his teeth, still reeling from the lack of touch, and twitches restlessly as the words struggle to come.

But Krauser is impatient. He expresses it through a dull backhand to Leon’s cheek.

“That’s an order, Kennedy.”

Although the slap is ultimately harmless (and could even be considered kind compared to the many blows you’ve both received from the major throughout training), a sense of fear shoots through you. You suddenly realize just how badly this could end if it goes south. You’re still keenly aware that this began by sparring with real knives, a testament to how insane your instructor truly is.

But your wires are well and truly crossed, and although you tremble on the floor, it all feels thrilling just the same. You’re just as sick as Krauser, maybe, the way you ache for Leon to submit so he can give you what you need. Luckily for your throbbing heat and unluckily for Leon’s dignity, he complies.

“Please,” he begins through his teeth, “let me fuck her, sir.”

“You can do better than that. You’ve wanted this for how long…? Let her hear it.”

Your breath hitches at the thought that Krauser has seen what you couldn’t all this time. It’s reinforced by the way Leon hangs his head and his brows change from being knit with anger to upturning in a pained plea as he speaks straight into you.

“Please let me fuck her, sir. Wanted to for so damn long, I—” His cock twitches in the air as if to attest to it being true. “Wanna show her why she doesn’t need to sleep around, that I’d treat her better than all of them, that I am better. Tasted so good, she’s so— I just— fuck, I’d do just about anything, major, please.”

Leon looks up to search for a sign it’s good enough while you do a double take at such lewd words coming from his lips.

In a change of tone, Krauser speaks low and deliberately to the young man.

“You’re going to do exactly as I say. And I mean exactly. If not, I'll take over. You won't get to cum and I’ll make sure she never sneaks off into your bed. Understood?”

Leon nods rapidly and whispers the affirmative under his breath. Krauser nods once and turns around as he gives his first command.

“Take your shirt off and pull your pants down enough to do the job.”

As Krauser strides away, you and Leon shoot a look at each other behind his back. It’s perhaps your first unobserved moment of eye contact the entire day, you realize, and the brief moment seems to expand into something big and desperate and warm, like something that’s just yours. Then Krauser’s heavy steps land in the room and urge Leon’s hands to move.

Your eyes float down over his cut figure as his clothing finally joins yours on the floor. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, sure, but never with the opportunity to stare, and certainly never with his pants around his thighs.

Your knees subconsciously part ever so slightly at the whole of him; his ashen hair unkempt and askew from Krauser’s disrespect to it, the valleys and peaks of each muscle on his whole torso and arms, and the kind of cock you thought only exists in porn you have to pay for—all of it flushed pink with pent-up desire for you and you alone.

The abrasive whir of a zipper steals your attention. Your eyes flick to the side and you see the major lean against the wall at the edge of the combat ring, pulling his own cock free as he settles in to watch. You feel like you see something you shouldn’t have for some reason, even though you hardly see his dick at all— and you yourself are naked and dripping on the floor, how can you still be embarrassed? Still, you immediately look away with your heart hammering in your chest.

“Kneel between her legs. Don’t touch yourself.”

You part your legs to make room and the flush spreads up from Leon’s chest to his cheeks as he shuffles forward on his knees. He winces as the head of his cock grazes hot against your folds, but he doesn’t dare to do anything about it.

“Slap it with your cock.”

Leon shudders as he holds the base and brings his head down onto your plump clit twice, pauses briefly, and then does it again and again at Krauser’s encouragement. Wet plap plap’s fill the room along with the sound of you sputtering at the teasing.

You fight the urge to curl your hips to get him to push it in; you know he won’t and can’t until he’s given the go-ahead. But it’s torture for you both as Krauser gives him no further instruction for minutes. Only when you both strain and cry out like you’ll break does he give his next demand.

“Stop.”

Not the one you want. Leon’s hands claw into his thighs to keep them fixed away from himself, and you feel hot all over as the head of his tip rests heavily on top of your clit.

Tense and restrained, you push your luck and start grinding against it, careful not to move to much to avoid detection. But if nothing else, Leon’s whine gives it away. Krauser doesn’t seem to mind.

“What a cock-whore,” he says through a devilish smile as he strokes himself leisurely. “She’s just dying for it. You still sure you can satisfy her?”

Leon can only moan and nod in response, and for once, the lack of formalities is accepted.

“Put it in. Stop when you bottom out. Let’s see how much she can take.”

As sadistic and unorthodox as Krauser’s methods are, the results of them are undeniable in the way Leon follows his orders at once.

He rests a hand against your thigh, his thumb rubbing up and down on the soft skin soothingly, as his other guides his shaft towards your entrance. You hold your breath as it notches there, and he wastes no time before he steadily sinks in with a hiss.

“Good god, you’re tight,” Leon chokes out as the head slips past your entrance.

You nearly wheeze as it does, your nerves on fire as they’re delivered the feeling they’ve endured all the torturous teasing for. The long shaft of his cock is hot against your walls and heavy as each new inch settles in, his girth burning the tight tissues of your entrance as they try to accommodate it. Despite the struggle, you keen into him, all to eager to take more, totally forgetting that when he gets to the hilt, he’ll stop.

Three long, tempered drags of his cock and he’s finally flush inside of you. His eyes roll back as he stills there, breathing harder than ever as he fights against thrusting instinctually. Your legs twitch as you sit with the feeling of his fat tip flush against your cervix, your walls hardly accommodating the whole of his dick, at least not yet, and Leon squeezes your parted knees with a frayed and empathetic look.

“Oh, oh f-fuck…”

Leon wants—needs— more just as much as you, if not more than, but he tries to focus on enjoying what he's presently afforded, and tries not to so much as think about how close he feels to cumming entirely too early.

“Enough sniveling— fuck her hard.”

Leon feels a pang of regret. He'd thought of this moment so many times before, ran through it like a waking dream on lonely nights spent lying awake in his cot. He’d always imagined starting slow, making you cum on his tongue and fingers before he entered you gently to hear your pretty breathless moans; to cradle you in his arms as he rocks into your perfect cunt, to hold you tight and kiss you all over—

—But that never happened, and while he dreamed of making love to you, you were busy getting railed in another recruit's room. Sometimes within earshot.

It’s an easy command to follow; he'll take what he can get.

Leon withdraws almost entirely before snapping in to the hilt. You cry out as he crashes powerfully against your cervix and fills every sweet spot all at once, acute pain sitting right alongside the overwhelming pleasure as your cunt stretches to its limits around him.

“Oh f-fuck, Leon—"

You cry out as he does it again with even more force this time, crashing into you so brutally that you slide back on the mat, but he just grips your hips to pull you back to him to continue.

With each new punishing thrust his navel smacks loudly against your center, and you desperately grasp at his wrists to hold on as you take it, moaning feverishly until your body adjusts to accommodate the brute impacts he delivers. When you do, it leaves only a fierce and overwhelming pleasure, and you arch off the mat like an animal in heat, writhing into and away from the intensity simultaneously.

He develops a rapid-fire rhythm he grunts in time to. It takes so much effort to take that you quickly become covered in a thin sheen of sweat that has you sliding back on the mat all over again.

“Grab her wrists and pin her down.”

Leon does it instantly, nailing you in place with an iron grip, your wrists fixed on either side of your head. It brings a new angle that has his cock beating mercilessly against your inner sweet spot, and with your ability to move being limited, you moan shamelessly as you take the bombardment.

He can’t keep himself quiet either, though he tries— he babbles through wet lips and grinding teeth as his eyes roll back in his head.

“Oh fuck, baby. Your pussy’s so perfect, god…”

Every time you twist in pleasure he hits a new spot that makes you see stars, and when you push against his hands, the fact that he so easily cages you in makes it all the better. But sweeter than anything, him pinning you down makes you face-to-face with him again.

The faces he makes are plucked straight from euro porn, full of lust as his expression contorts with every wanton moan. His full lips are a plump and rosy pink, occasionally being wetted by his tongue flicking over them mindlessly as he works; his blown pupils making his eyes a darker, oceanic shade of blue that you ache to drown in.

You tip your chin up to try and kiss him. God, how you want to kiss him again. And you're so close together, if you could just—

He looks at your lips and slowly closes the difference, and then—

Krauser barks your name, and you're yanked right out of your immersion.

“Look at me.”

You hesitantly turn your head away from Leon and towards your major. Your throat feels thick as you do, and your mouth goes dry as you see what, in the back of your mind, you knew Krauser has been doing the whole time.

At some point he's taken his shirt off and he stands bare-chested some five feet away, leaning against the edge of the fighting ring with a wide stance, his posture emphasizing the sheer broadness of his build. He's pulled undone his pants enough to pull himself out and nothing more, and now you know that truly every inch of him is imposing as he strokes his large cock with a strong, persistent grip.

Even sheathed in his big hands, it looks fucking huge. Perhaps equal in length to Leon, maybe an inch shorter, but absolutely formidable in girth and decorated in thick, bulging veins. Your breath hitches as you watch him tug hard up the length of it, squeezing out a bead of precum before smearing it slowly back down his length.

Your eyes flit between Krauser’s face and his cock, each one too imposing to settle on. He smirks like he knows the look in your eyes, like many people before have cowered in fear at his size, like he enjoys the terror that flashes in your gaze.

“Tell me what you think,” he tells you, holding his cock up by the base as if he’s arrogantly raising a weapon.

You struggle to speak with Leon holding your jaw tight in his hands and his cock striking the deepest parts of you— I mean jesus, it’s hard to even think coherently with how he’s rearranging your guts. But you don’t want him to be stopped more than you feel queasy, so you attempt it.

“I-I… you’re– oh– uh, ahh, big, and—”

Mercifully, perhaps, Krauser interjects with a ragged chuckle. “Cock-drunk already, huh? Try again. Come on.”

You completely and totally are, and it becomes twice as difficult to speak as Leon puts more weight into his hips, forcing your legs wider and barraging his cock at an even deeper angle in, like fucking you harder is all he can offer to distract you in the event you're watching something you didn’t want to see.

Do you want to see it…? You really don't know. You'd never looked at your instructor through this kind of lens before, and only were now because you were being forced to. 

You try again, blubbering through the drool that trickles down the corner of your mouth and onto Leon’s fingers.

“You’re… it’s… oh—” 

The air is pushed from your lungs as Leon sends his next thrust into you with aggressive force, sending your head tipping back as your eyes roll and a loud, wet smack echoes off the gymnasium walls. 

“So fucking useless…” Krauser grumbles. “Can’t take a little hard fucking without turning stupid? Choke her out, Kennedy; give ‘er a reason she can’t speak.”

With a grunt, Leon wraps a hand around the whole of your neck. Not enough to hurt, just enough to press you into the floor by it. Still, his ragged breath shakes in surprise at his own lack of hesitation. 

He’s even more surprised that he doesn’t hate it and that you don’t seem to either. He tests the waters and squeezes a little tighter, drawing a strangled moan from you that clearly isn’t from pain.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he hisses in time with each thrust, swearing more at himself than anything. 

He feels like he’s teetering on the edge of something dangerous. He shouldn’t think this is so hot. He could actually hurt you here. 

Your cunt clamps down on him as you gasp, and something new washes over him. He grits his teeth and squeezes hard.

You sputter silently as your airway becomes constricted and something daunting builds in your core. Your pulse pounds in your skull as the oxygen in your brain grows stale and dies, you feel your muscles locking up, and you know you’d be moaning if you could make any noun at all. 

Your vision slowly darkens around the edges, obscuring the vicious look on Leon’s face that sits in your periphery. In the center of the vignette stands the sight of Krauser’s hand working himself faster. Leon’s hold on your throat and the constant torrent against your inner walls are equally violent, and your pleasure grows violently in response. But all you can do is weakly keen into Leon’s cock as your body becomes completely flooded with unadulterated sensation.

“Slap her pretty face,” Krauser grunts.

Leon does. You’re barely cognizant enough to flinch and can hardly move enough to anyway, but it lands dully; not even enough to sting.

“Oh, don’t fucking insult me. Slap her.”

This time, your cheekbone blooms with heat in the wake of the rough calluses of his palm snapping against you.

“Harder.”

His hand crashes into your face and the whole room starts spinning. 

You’ve taken countless blows to the face before, and many from Leon himself; you knew all too well how hard he could hit. Hell, you’d already have bruises tomorrow from the training session that led you here. But that blow landed utterly uniquely from any other you’d endured. No pain had ever caused this kind of disorientation. 

Vision fixed on the voyeur and your cunt skewered on Leon’s cock, decreasing thoughts as your face tingles and your neck aches under a ruthless grip, lungs burning behind your ribs— clit swollen and oversensitive from each smack of Leon’s navel against it. Your eyes are bulging and body’s locking up, making your cunt grip around him tighter, pushing out a new surge of wetness around him—

Your vision darkens until all that’s left is the brute force of how good it all feels. Every ounce of pleasure and pain compounds into blindingly bright sensation, like white-hot lightning running through your every nerve, growing stronger and stronger as your faculties weaken. 

Your face feels hot as you try in vain to gasp for air, hips working sloppily to try to meet Leon’s pace as he thrusts into your sweet spots over and over. Krauser speaks, but you don’t grasp the words until Leon’s free hand frantically connects with your clit.

“Look at that, she fucking loves it. Go on, make her cum on your cock.”

The grip on your neck lessens just enough to seize a rough gasp of new air as your orgasm rallies. Your back arches so acutely, you feel like Leon’s hold is the only thing stopping you from levitating. Krauser’s mumbling between barks of orders as you tear at the seams—

“That’s it, give her what she needs. Keep her eyes on me.”

Leon captures you by the cheeks to turn your face back towards Krauser. You breathe desperately and watch him while your hands reach haplessly for Leon, nails dragging everywhere they land as you steal ragged breaths through the nose. It’s all so good, so much, and god the mindfuck of it all— your eyes glued to Krauser jerking himself off while another man pistons his cock inside of you, like they're both being cucked somehow as your physical and mental attention is divvied between them. 

It’s all just so insane— the fact that Krauser is getting off to you being split in half and manhandled by your opponent, telling him how and when to fuck you— like Krauser is the director and you and Leon are the stars of his own personal brand of violent pornography.

And it’s a role Leon plays well. He’s grown to be barbaric in his own right, a part of him no one including himself knew existed until now. 

Krauser had that effect on his recruits, and apparently this was no exception: he’d made the rookie into exactly what he needed to be to rise to the occasion. And the result is animalistic, further evidenced as Leon licks a flat-tongued stripe up your jugular and bites down before growling into your hair through sharp teeth.

“Fucking feel me.”

His voice pulls the pin on the live grenade of your arousal, and in seconds flat, you combust.

Your orgasm hits you like a devastating blow to the core, tearing through your body as if somewhere within your center an atom had split in half. You writhe like you’re dying, and high-pitched moans flood out of your pursed lips that are still squeezed taut in Leon’s grip. He has to hold you even tighter just to keep you from falling away, and he puts a hand on your stomach with weight that lets you both feel each time he bulges through your stomach. 

The cracking sounds of his hips connecting with your cunt become wetter and more crude as you gush around him with each shockwave of seizing bliss. Leon starts falling apart himself, moaning wildly as you tighten around him like a vice. He looks down to see the base of his cock covered in the creamy white slick of your cum, and that's enough to make him see stars.

“Oh fuck, jesus fucking christ I’m—“

Cruel as ever, Krauser makes his next command.

“Stop.”

Leon is in a full breakdown as he tries to; he lets go of you to claw his nails into the ground, pained sounds ripping from his chest as he struggles to keep still, but he can’t keep his hips from twitching forward to save his life. He was so close to cumming and he has to force himself not to as he keeps himself bottomed out again, a guttingly difficult task as your walls continue to pulse around his cock as you come down from your high. 

The stakes heighten as Krauser approaches with heavy boot steps, and Leon’s whole body strains as he fights to comply before he gets there. Leon swears under his breath as the tendons in his neck clench and small veins begin to pop against his temple, grabbing your weak body by the hips to fix you on his cock instead of fighting the involuntary jolts of his hips.

“Fuckfuckfuck, m’sorry, I’m t-trying, ahh…”

Krauser stands over you again, pumping his sturdy dick in a firm but leisurely grip at the absolute sight of you two. You can only imagine how obscene you must look lying numb and weak on the ground— you’re still panting as you come down from your high, your wild hair sticking to your sweaty neck and forehead, fucked-out and used with Leon’s cock still stuffing you full while you let your major jerk off above you.

But as downright shameful as you look and feel, Krauser takes his sweet time soaking it in, enjoying the unfiltered vulgarity of it as he pumps himself a hair faster. 

You’re grateful for the time to catch your breath, sure, but the longer you’re there, the more his attention burns. As seconds roll by, your sweat cools uncomfortably on your skin, you regain enough feeling in your body to feel a small amount of what it’s been through, but most of all, you become more aware of where you and Leon connect.

Your orgasm made you twice as sensitive, and the lack of motion is as maddening to you as it is for Leon as he throbs inside your walls. You can’t help but to squirm around for relief, and you can’t help but to moan as the movement drags the head of his cock against your g-spot. 

“Jesus, you still want more? Is one cock not enough? Should’ve fucking known,” Krauser tuts, twisting his fist around the wide base of his dick. “You’ve always been tough. Shoulda known you wouldn’t break so easily. Always making me get my hands dirty…”

He pushes Leon to lean back and out of the way for a thick droplet of spit to fall from Krauser’s lips all the way down to your clit. You jolt at the sensation of it landing, but it doesn’t compare to when Krauser drops to one knee and rubs it in with two firm fingertips.

He massages his spit into your clit with rough fingerpads that move in tight and steady circles, building you towards another bout of sensory overload with calculated precision. You look rapidly between Krauser and Leon and your own body through wet lashes, frantically trying and failing to get a grip. 

It’s all too much, but somehow, it isn’t enough. You need Leon to move like you need air to breathe.

“Nnhg, m-major…” you moan hesitantly

“What?” he says dryly, as if he isn’t causing your undoing. You only manage a throaty whine in response, and he chides you by increasing his speed on your clit. “Speak.”

You try, but your words are bracketed by thick heaving breaths. “Hhha, I… oh, ahh…. p-please…”

Krauser leaves his weighty cock to hang in the air as he adds his other hand to your body, staring at you intently as a high pitched shriek gets caught in the back of your throat. He pinches your nipples one by one before flicking them each sharply, matching his rhythm on your clit, stimulating every part of you continuously. He just smirks as your brain melts in your skull, your mouth falling open with nothing comprehensible coming out of it.

“Please what?” 

You squirm in an attempt to lessen the overwhelming feeling, but he doesn’t falter once, only leaving your clit to dip his fingers around either side of Leon’s shaft to gather your wetness to slicken your sore nub. Leon sputters at the brief yet unexpected feeling and he bucks into you so deep you both choke. 

“F-fuck, I… I need… ahhh,” you whine hard, your head flying back on the ground.

“You can take it. If you’re not gonna use your words, then be quiet.”

You really do try and stay quiet at that, biting your lip so hard you think you might taste blood, but you just can’t.

You can still feel Leon pulsating inside of you, can still hear the sweet sounds of his agonized grunts as you’re brought back to the brink. Leon holds your hips tight for his own sake so he doesn’t cum before he’s allowed, his fingers pressing deeply into your soft flesh to keep you from bucking into him more than you already are, and the dull pain where his short fingernails dig in just add to it all. You’re trembling severely, the meat of your thighs shaking uncontrollably, and it all just feels too good.

All at once, Krauser pinches a nipple painfully and strums you so quickly his hand blurs, and you all but fucking scream.

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Krauser snarls and removes his touch altogether.

It’s easier to swallow your sounds as the sensation fades, but the damage has already been done. Your vision swims as Krauser grabs the since-forgotten combat knife and tosses it to Leon before kneeling beside your head. 

Leon catches it on pure instinct and stares dumbfoundedly at it in his hands.

Krauser frames your face with his thighs and his cock becomes inches away from your face. Close enough to see every short wheat colored hair on his navel, every vein that courses up his substantial width; close enough to smell the salt on his skin, even. 

He guides it to stroke the length of it overtop your plush, drool-covered lips.

It’s fucking denigrating, the way he does it, dragging his cock over your face with a gruff hum as he holds you in place by the crown of your hair. The shocked face of shame you wear only makes him leak with pre.

Krauser hooks his fingers behind your bottom teeth and pulls your mouth open to slap his tip against your tongue, and you shudder at the sweet taste of his precum. Then he lets go and notches the tip between your puffy lips.

Leon watches with the knife still in his hands, a quiet horrification in his tone as he speaks.

“Sir…”

“Hold it against her neck,” Krauser answers like it’s nothing, “or I’ll do it.”

Krauser plugs your mouth with his cock at the same time that cold steel meets your neck.

Leon watches the sight wide-eyed and disturbed. This is going too far, he thinks— but he’s gone too far to stop himself, too. 

Krauser is clearly getting off to the sight of you being borderline assaulted, and Leon is a partner to it. He’s the one holding the flat of a blade to your jugular while your superior sodomizes you, the one who’s still struggling not to cum and wishing he could fuck you fully again. He’s already an accomplice, or more accurately at this point, a willing participant. 

He thinks now that Krauser might’ve actually been right, that in these ways they’re alike. It horrifies him and shatters his self-image, but his cock aches with need regardless.

You’re mindless to it all as you start to suck Krauser off. Your lips struggle to stretch around his girth, your whines are muffled as you take more and more, and you feel so fucking dirty that you rock into Leon without thinking. 

Fuck, you’re actually enjoying this. A lot. 

‘Maybe I am a whore’, you think as your toes curl against Leon’s calves— but how could you possibly care about that right now? You don’t, and you can’t— all you can think about is making Krauser fit inside your mouth so he’ll let Leon keep going. 

Leon is harder than he’s ever been in his life, another fact that has him dumbstruck with himself. He even envies the man for getting to stuff his fat dick past your pretty lips, for being the one who’s making your face twist up like it is.

But the final nail in his moral coffin? The sight of you slowly being face-fucked, struggling to suck such a big dick with enthusiasm, while he holds a knife to your neck… it brings him right back to the edge of release. Not in spite of it— because of it. 

So when Krauser tells Leon to fuck you again with a reminder not to cum until he’s given permission, he does it without a hint of hesitation.

When he does, you’re no longer on planet earth; you’re floating somewhere above it, your senses more overloaded than ever. It takes focus you barely have to keep Krauser’s girth from hitting your teeth as he picks up speed to roughly fuck your face.

Krauser alternates between striking the back of your throat and holding your chin down to push it against the inside of your cheeks, watching his head bulge out your face before continuing his assault on your throat, using your mouth like exactly the kind of whore he’d made you out to be. All while Leon delivers blunt thrusts, each one thumping against the most electric spots inside your cunt, and each harsh snap of his hips cracks in the room like lightning. 

And every few seconds you feel the flat of the blade bump against your neck, a chilling reminder of the control you’re under.

Krauser truly is a goddamn psychopath. That’s never been more evident than now. But it fills you with a certain thrill to be at the mercy of a certified killing machine and his most promising rookie. Both of them are more than capable of causing you serious injury right now, but all their brawn and might is being utilized to ruin you in a way that feels good, and it’s the best, most exhilarating experience you’ve ever had.

Maybe you’re all psychopaths. Maybe Krauser’s promise on the first day of training held a particular purpose for you and Leon. Perhaps the training broke you long ago, and at some point you couldn’t place, he’d reassembled your bleeding hearts into corrupted, submissive subjects, ones perfectly crafted for him to play with, to even enjoy his sadistic demands.

Tears prick at your eyes as Krauser presses himself as far as he can go into your mouth and you choke around him. He’s too thick to take so deeply, and your throat seizes up in rejection. He slaps your cheek just enough to feel it sting as he forces you to keep trying. 

“That’s it, choke on it, bitch.”

And choke on it you do, with horrible sounds emanating from your throat as he likely bruises it. Your hands grasp for nothing at the overwhelm and Krauser pins the arm nearest to him under his knee, and Leon holds the other down by the bicep before Krauser even looks at him.

“There you go, now you’re fucking behaving,” Krauser pants at you both. “My two most obedient soldiers… hah.”

A thick string of spit connects your lips to Krauser’s tip as he pulls out suddenly, giving you a chance to gasp for air. He slaps its weight against the red welts in the shape of Leon’s hand on your cheek, making the sore skin shine with spit. Your tongue lolls out on its own and he goes right back to skull fucking you, holding you firmly by the sides of your head to keep you at the right angle. 

You moan as his cock vein drags up and down your wet, flat tongue as he thrusts in and out decisively, and your eyes roll back as he starts working your nipples again, catching them in his fingertips as they recoil with Leon’s thrusts.

Leon can’t help it; he can’t stop watching. It brings him closer than ever to breaking. His orgasm has been denied so many times when he’s right there on the edge, and the thought of holding it back again is devastating. So all on his own, he begs.

“Krauser, please, let me… let me cum, sir. I need to, I need—“

And Krauser is all too aware of his staring.

“You like watching me use her mouth that much? Gonna get off to it while you have a knife to her neck? You’re a sick fuck, kid.”

Leon chokes out a sob at the fact and that his plea went totally ignored. But looking between you, Krauser falters too, and he pounds your moaning mouth more wildly.

“Fuck, you’re both crying. You two are so damn dirty.”

Krauser grunts, and nearing his own edge, he makes sure to bring you with him. He reaches over to wedge his hand between you and Leon’s bodies to rub your sopping clit again.

You try to writhe, but you’re too pinned down, and too big of a movement sends your jugular dangerously close to the knife. All you can do is take it, teary eyed and pliant, trembling like an earthquake as you near another peak.

Leon whines as Krauser dips his fingers down to your cunt, but this time, they don’t pass there just to collect your slick. He keeps them fixed around Leon’s cock while he cups your pussy, and each time Leon thrusts, his shaft passes through the tight friction of his fingers. 

He braves a glance down at where you all connect and god, it is dirty, just like Krauser said— and Leon is weak to it. His gut twists as your cunt and the major’s fingers both grip around him, warm and velvety wet and threatening to milk him dry.

Ever the coach, Krauser starts encouraging you both, his steady tone in stark contrast to Leon’s as the younger man starts begging again.

“That’s it, take it. Cum for us so he can get his.”

“Please, oh fuck she’s so tight, m’not gonna make it sir, I—”

“Just a little more, Kennedy, don’t quit on me now. Where’s all that endurance?”

“I can’t sir I can’t, needta cum so bad, oh god it fucking hurts.”

Krauser’s own cracks finally show through, the grumbling under his breath the first sign he has any weakness at all as you suck him off with urgency, trying to catch him up to your contemporary.

“Shit, yeah, suck my cock just like that. Sound so good when you beg for me, rookie, jesus.”

A pathetic sound comes from Leon as his thrusts grow sloppy, and he leans over you on his forearm as his muscles begin to buckle. It makes you feel even more caged in, traps Krauser’s palm against your clit, forces your legs a little farther apart— and suddenly, you snap.

You convulse completely as you cum, and the rough sounds the two men make in response only bring you higher until the pleasure is blinding. Your ears ring and mute the strings of profanities they’re chanting as they feel it soar through you and gush around them, and you’re putty in Krauser’s hands as he pulls out and keeps your slack jaw open.

“That’s it, shit, cum for her, Kennedy, fuck.”

“Where, where—?”

"In her, fill her fucking cunt— ahh, fuck—”

You flinch in surprise at the first hot rope of cum that falls onto your tongue. While Krauser paints your open mouth white, Leon collapses over you, and you thread weak fingers into his sweaty hair as he cries out into the crook of your neck.

His words are only for you.

“Oh god, I’m cumming, I’m– oh, ohh fuck—”

He devolves into a mindless stream of consciousness as he pumps you full of it.

“Shit, you feel s’fucking good, fucking take me.”

And when he remembers the knife in his hand:

“Oh god, I’m so damn sorry.”

You can’t think enough to even wonder what he’s sorry for as you swallow your mouthful of cum, shuddering at the mild tang before suckling the last drops from the head of Krauser’s dick.

All the while, you feel every single drop that Leon buries inside of you, warm in the depths of your cunt and slightly stinging the sore skin at your entrance as tickles escape around his base. It seems like his orgasm will never end; there must be so much of it, and even when you no longer feel new ropes of his cum pooling into you, he ruts it shallowly into your cervix as he shakes with aftershocks. 

It takes a long time for you both to settle, and for lengthy minutes, you just lie there together, eyes closed and adrift. Your whole body is abuzz as you run your hands up and down his back, feeling it rise and fall with his staggered breathing as he lies flush against you, a drunken smile on your face as you come down for good. You sink heavily into the floor, no thoughts whatsoever in your head, and nothing behind your eyes but stars.

Leon too is perfectly exhausted from the way he’s been thoroughly drained, and he’s more than happy to join you in your empty-headed daze. So lie there you do, long enough to be overtaken by fatigue as your blown minds weigh down with sleep, even long enough to forget about what Krauser might be doing. 

Leon rolls off of you, knife clattering to the ground as it slips from his limp fingers, and you open your blurry eyes to see the cause: Krauser’s boot.

Krauser doesn’t look angry at all, more so inconvenienced. He shakes his head at the way Leon’s dead weight falls beside you, too tired to even react to his soft dick slipping out of your sopping cunt.

“Good god…” Krauser mutters under his breath, scoffing at the soft display of you and Leon in a puddle on the ground— an understandably dissonant sight after what you’ve all just done. But it doesn’t cut through your euphoric afterglow at all; Krauser’s disapproval is too familiar to blink twice at even now; if anything, it’s casual coming from him. You even weakly smile until he speaks again with a touch more bitterness in his tone.

“You two look just pathetic.”

Blinking away the stale tears that cling to your eyelashes, Krauser sharpens into view. He’s collected himself completely in the time you’ve been drifting away.

And there you are in stark contrast, completely naked on the floor, your limp limbs in a tangled heap wherever gravity took them, your hair a mess of sweat and frizz— and the most indecent sight of all, the cum drying on the corners of your mouth and leaking out of your swollen folds. 

Leon lies beside you in an equally tragic state: his hair is a disaster, his trousers are loose around his knees, and a final drop of cum leaks from the tip of his sore cock.

No wonder Krauser’s displeased. There’s truly no world where he’d be glad to see his top recruits looking half dead in front of him, especially when he somehow managed to be so unaffected himself.

“Get up before you stain the mat.”

You and Leon are all creaks and groans as you pull yourselves to your knees, not yet daring to try your feet and instead crawling to find your clothes. You fight against your lightheadedness as you sit upright to redress, trying to do it quickly before Leon’s cum spills out of you and onto the floor. You can feel how much there is, and you don’t know if you’ll have the strength to clean it up, which you’d surely be made to if it did.

But in the minutes you have somewhat to yourself, your throat feels tight all over again. You feel like you’re back at the beginning in the exact same predicament as before: How the hell are you supposed to look Leon in the eyes? 

When you’re finally dressed, you stumble to your feet, and you hardly look at him at all before you both shy away. But as you stand in the room on wobbly legs, you find a new predicament, too: What the hell happens now?

You’ve stumbled into completely uncharted territory, and you have only your major to guide you. So on pure routine, you both look to your superior to tell you what to do next. 

It has to be the most hilariously pathetic attempt at standing in formation ever, the way he looks incredulously at the two of you as he shrugs on his olive green overshirt, pausing at the sight.

“You’re both so fucking clueless” he grumbles and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Hit the showers and go to bed.”

You stumble shame-faced through yes sir’s and turn heel to the gymnasium door, and your mouth goes dry with each new step. 

That’s it then..? You have to pretend it never happened without so much as an acknowledgment? You half wish Krauser had shaken you by the shoulders and told you what to think as usual, for him to set right your spinning head.

“Hey,” Krauser calls just before you reach the door. You both look back and wait, your hearts beating in your chest, but he only looks at you. “I don’t like rumors. I better not hear any more. Understood?”

He stares you down sharply with a lift in his brow. You inhale deeply as you catch his drift. “Y-yeah. Understood, sir.”

Krauser calms and nods once, then turns away. You take the opportunity to slip out of the door.

The walk back to the barracks is painfully quiet; neither of you know what to say. Your bootsteps are the only sound echoing in the dim halls, and your heartbeat is the only thing in your ears.

It isn’t a long walk before you reach the fork between the male and female barrack halls. Your steps slow until they reach a halt and Leon lingers behind you. You turn halfway to face him, but nothing comes of it; you both can only stand there with open mouths that don’t say anything.

You stiffly turn away, but then Leon speaks your name quietly and brokenly, and everything unspoken is left in the ellipses. He gulps once and feels his dry tongue cling to the roof of his mouth as he opens it to speak, and a shaky voice comes out that echoes your very same need.

“Tell me it’s okay.”

You turn around and finally manage to look at him, and it cracks your heart wide open. He looks so much like he did when you’d both arrived here, a scared young man who arrived fresh from the horrors he’d witnessed, who’d do anything to keep everything in one piece despite how much he himself needs saving. 

It’s the face you’d first fallen for and fell for all over again as it sharpened into the fierceness he had now. The same face that held you impossibly close just moments ago. 

You fall all over again and crash into his chest at terminal velocity, clinging to him with all the energy you have left in you to give.

“It’s okay.”

You hold each other there in the hall for a long time. Neither of you know what you’ll wake up to in the morning or how the hell you’ll pretend everything is normal, but right now, you don’t need to. You just need to hold each other long enough to know that the other one is there.

When you slowly pull away, your fingertips linger over each other’s before you finally break apart. And with one last breathless look into his blown blue eyes, you head towards the women’s showers.

You squint in the fluorescents and avoid your reflection. You step into the shower while it’s still running cold and let the tension wash away in the water as it grows to a calming steam.

You wash yourself with purpose— it’s well past one in the morning and you don’t have sleep to spare— but your fingers linger between your legs as you clean where you feel the most dirty. Feeling the slick slip of cum against your sore, swollen lips as it commingles with the suds, you smile.

⌖⌖⌖

The next morning, everything seems to scream. The wake alarm. Your muscles. Your head from three fleeting hours of sleep. Your thoughts as you remember the source of your freshly aching body.

The very beginnings of bruises bloom in greens and purples under your skin: on your wrists, your hips, and the distinct shape of fingers on your bicep. Your neck is sore and your cheek is tender, nevermind your throat and between your legs. As nervous as the evidence of last night being visible makes you, there's no cause to worry about the curious glances your comrades give you. It really does just look like you got your ass beat in combat, which is... true enough, you suppose.

Still, you can hardly look anyone in the eyes without your blood feeling hot about the new secret that you're keeping, but you don’t have many chances to.

First formation comes in place of breakfast. You’ve never stood so straight in your life; it wouldn’t be a good day to have Krauser pick on you. Definitely not.

Every time the major’s eyes glance over you, goosebumps prick your skin. You have no idea what he thinks about last night’s events, and so you dread his reprimands more than ever.

And when your eyes catch against Leon's, although you catch a hundred different things in his gaze, disappointment isn't one of them, and it's comforting somehow to know that he's feeling the same dizzying mix of emotions as you without having to ask.

But somehow, despite your cloudy thoughts, your aching body, and the ever-present signs of sleep deprivation, you excel.

And so the day goes on without incident as far as USSTRATCOM goes. You’re well ready for sleep by the time you’re relieved for the night, but you stay awake until you know everyone is asleep.

You take your time standing up from your cot, careful not to make it creak or shuffle the cheap blankets noisily. You watch your bunk mate snore as you tip-toe to the door in your socks. Boots would sound too heavy, and besides, you aren’t going far.

Your heart races as you scamper to the men’s wing and look for the right door, but you can’t seem to find it. Maybe it’s farther down than you thought? You turn back down the hall with knit brows to check the room numbers again. No dice. Maybe you passed it already.

You turn again and freeze as a doors opens and none other than Leon walks out.

There’s still no disappointment in his face, though. This is full-on despair. His face drops and his shoulders sink before he stammers and looks away, ducking back inside his room like he’s the one who shouldn’t be here.

“I’m, uh… sorry, I’ll just—“

“Leon, wait...!"

You cross the distance in seconds flat and catch his wrist just as he’s halfway enveloped back in the dark of his room.

“I… I came here to see you.”

end notes: pls infer that you and leon made sweet, comforting love all night long :) or that he violently fucked your brains out without krauser there to make him hold back. whichever

[lemonlover1110]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐈𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Leon S. Kennedy

Story Masterlist

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x f!Reader

Summary: It was supposed to be a one night stand, but Leon keeps coming back to you for more. There's just one catch: everything must stay the same.

Even after seeing each other in your most vulnerable state, you have to pretend like your friendship with him is all the same.

General Story Warnings: Friends with Benefits, Smut, Angst, Eventual Romance

Chapter 1

[familyvideostevie]

either way

leon s kennedy x reader | 8.2k

Leon falls asleep. You fall in love. 

Warnings: fluff, sleeping, leon being tired and injured and charming, r being mushy and protective of him…five times in a row. canon typical violence, mission talk, off-page suicide by a minor oc, leon’s raccoon city trauma, picture any leon you want

a/n: technically a 4-part prequel and 1-part epilogue to “no matter how it ends.” if you want to read about the mission that brings these two together in all its glorious, smutty detail, check out that fic. this fic references that one a lot!

--

MISSION: ARGENTINA, SURVEILLANCE OF SUSPECTED T-VIRUS MATERIALS TRADE LOCATION

The rain starts at midday.

The sun is there one second and gone the next, everything plunged into darkness like someone simply turned off the lights. The church tower that you're in is on the hill, looking down with a clear sight line to the supposed meeting spot of your target.

But when it's raining, you can't see shit.

"If this roof starts to leak, I'll be pissed," you mutter. "How much longer till shift change?"

Leon checks his watch. He's cleaning his pistol, one leg outstretched and the other bent at the knee, his back pressed to the cold, damp stone. If he feels the chill, he does a good job of hiding it.

"An hour," he says. "If they show up on time."

You press the binoculars to your face and peer through again, but it's a lost cause.

"Bravo team never shows up on time," you remind him. "This is so pointless."

Leon doesn't argue. He even smirks, mouth pulling up at one corner as he pushes the clip back into his gun with a click.

"We know the guy is here," he reminds you. "It's a start."

Your target is a former Umbrella employee who set up shop in a small Argentinian mountain town to allegedly make new viruses. But it's a delicate mission as far as diplomacy goes, so much so that you two, one of the best pairs in the whole damn organization, have been relegated to surveillance.

For now.

"I'm bored," you say. It probably sounds petulant. Usually, missions are not boring. But this is the most laid-back thing you've been assigned so far, and you both know it. "I wish I had a book, or something."

Leon perks up. It's subtle, but you're already fairly attuned to his small movements even though you haven't been partners for all that long. His shoulders roll back. He turns ever so slightly to face you more fully.

"What, I'm not entertaining enough?"

You mirror his position, turning from the vantage point to lean against the wall.

"I don't know, Kennedy," you tease. "Can you do a flip?"

You both know he can do a flip.

He doesn't bite. "You read?"

That gets an eye roll. "I know how to read, yes. Do you?"

He huffs, pleased as he always is when you show some attitude. He's full of it, though it doesn't always rise to the surface.

"I just read The Count of Monte Cristo," he says. "I don't have a copy to give you, but I can tell you about it."

That's just how he is -- sass one second, honesty the next. Leon doesn't say things he doesn't mean. It's like he doesn't see the point in being anything but truthful.

Still, you study him. He's singular, your partner. Better in the field than anyone else, sure, but it's more than that. Leon S. Kennedy is different down to his core, down to the golden heart that beats in his chest.

Sometimes it's just...hard to believe you're a witness to it. To him.

"Okay," you say. If he's surprised, he doesn't show it.

"And you're not going to read it?" he says. Leon likes to do this, you've learned. To check with you. To be sure. "You don't mind knowing what happens?"

"No, go ahead."

Something in him lightens as he talks. He's a good storyteller. He explains the main character’s imprisonment, his escape, the transformation. The revenge, the mercy, the forgiveness. It matters to Leon, you realize. That he gets it right, but also that you understand what it's about. That you learn what he learned, feel what he felt. He wants you there with him.

So you listen. You watch. You drink your fill just this one time.

Because while he's competent and beautiful and so, so good, you're partners. What you're doing here matters, even if it's raining and you can't see shit. And you're best at it when you're with him, so that's how it will be. Nothing can compromise that.

But you're allowed to look. To see the way he talks with his hands the deeper into the story he gets. The way he catches your eye even when you shift around a little. The way he leans forward just a bit and you mirror it, always meeting him wherever he wants to go.

By the end, he's basically resting his chin on a forearm slung across his knee. "But then the very last line --"

"HQ to Alpha Team, come in, Alpha Team."

You both jump, and Leon flips open his communicator. He looks a little irritated at being interrupted.

"Hunnigan, Alpha Team here."

"Bravo Team is delayed," Hunnigan says, her voice unusually staticky over the line. It drags you the rest of the way out of Leon's story and into the present – the mission. "Supplies restock went fine, but the road up is washed out. They're looking for an alternate route."

"Lucky us," Leon says, tipping his head back against the stone. "Thanks for the update."

You feel compelled to get to your knees and face the window again. It's a reminder of where you are, what you're doing.

The silence feels unwelcome. Not unnatural or awkward, but more like you expect it to be filled with Leon's voice. He's never said so much in one go, and you already miss listening.

"So he just...gives up on revenge?" you ask.

Leon nods. "He realizes it's an empty pursuit."

You finally look through your binoculars. Nothing, just rain.

"I admire that," you say. "I guess he wins, in the end. He's free."

"All human wisdom is contained in these two words: Wait and hope," Leon recites.

You turn back to him and meet his eyes. He swallows, looks away. Now he's shy. "That's the last line."

"Do you believe that?"

"I'm not very good at waiting," he says wryly. He picks up his gun, forgotten on the floor in his storytelling, and slides it into his holster. "Or hoping."

You don’t think either of these things is true. Leon is incredibly patient. He is also hopeful down to his bones, even if he won’t admit it. He believes in doing as much good as he can, and he believes in saving people. It’s as much a part of him as his rare smile and piercing eyes.

But he would never say such things about himself. He’s allergic to internalizing compliments.

"Let's practice," you suggest. "I'll start. I hope Bravo team shows up soon."

For a second, you think Leon won't play. But he hums and says, "I hope they're muddy and soaked for making us wait."

"Leon!" you laugh. "How unkind to our fellow agents."

He shrugs. "A little rain never hurt anybody. Your turn."

"I hope...we get a few weeks off after this," you offer. It's impossible to know what will come next. Truthfully, you always miss being in the field with Leon after too long away.

Your partner attempts to look professionally discouraging but fails. "We barely did anything on this one."

"Well, it's not over yet!"

Almost like it was listening, the sky rumbles.

"I hope I sleep on the plane home," he says. It's aptly punctuated with a yawn. After Bravo Team relieves you, it's back to the safe house for a quick hot meal and as many hours of sleep as you can catch. He never says so, but you don't think Leon is a good sleeper. He's too alert, too ready for something to happen.

Maybe he's different in his own space. You wouldn't know, you've never seen it. Never seen him outside of work at all, really.

But you know how he looks now. Tired.

Despite his golden heart and mystifyingly confident attitude, Leon is a man like any other. Now that you think about it, you know he hasn't been sleeping well. You can hear him on the other side of the wall in the safe house, the methodical way he takes apart and cleans his gun, the soft grunts of a workout instead of closing his eyes. Nightmares, maybe. You don't know how to ask.

And telling him he looks exhausted might not be great for his ego. But he's your partner, and your job is to take care of him as much as it is to complete the mission, however you can.

"Get some rest," you tell him.

He frowns. "What?"

"I'll keep watch," you continue with a shrug, like it's no big deal. It is, and it isn't. He's put his life in your hands countless times since you were assigned together, but this is different. You're asking for a new kind of trust.

He blinks at you, unreadable as he comes to a decision.

"Just a little," he says. "15 minutes. Tops."

"Whatever you say, Kennedy," you say with a salute. He huffs, but settles back against the wall a little more, eyes sliding shut.

You're not even sure he'll fall asleep, but before long, his breathing evens out, and his head tilts a little more to the side. He looks younger like this. Less burdened.

If anything came through the door right now, you'd kill it. No hesitation. Just so he would keep looking like that.

MISSION: NEPAL, RECONNAISSANCE REGARDING POSSIBLE NEW VIRUS LABORATORY

Leon has three broken ribs, maybe four, and the extraction point is really fucking far from the lab.

Why did Hunnigan make it so far?

You'd ask her, but both of your coms are long gone. Fried from the blast and smashed to pieces from what came after. Probably 10 bullets left between the two of you, a shitty knife, and two vials of herbs.

Which Leon needs, desperately.

He's trying not to lean his entire weight on you, but you both know he can't walk on his own right now, let alone stand.

You slow your already glacial trudge away from the carnage in your wake and adjust his arm around your shoulders. He's holding his own ribs, stabilizing them as best he can. You keep your gun at the ready between you, just in case. He's trying really hard not to drag his leg.

"We should just walk home," he says. The cuts on his face aren't bleeding anymore, but he's still got crimson smears on his neck. "Shouldn't take too long."

"Oh, yeah?" you say lightly. He can probably feel your panic anyway, attuned to you as he is in the field. This joke is probably an attempt to get you to calm down. "Over the mountains, through the woods, across an ocean, and to Washington DC we go."

"See? Easy enough."

His breath is hot on your ear, head almost entirely lolled onto your shoulder before you start walking again. You can hear the pain in his voice, though he tries to hide it. You glance at him and find his face ashen and sweaty, hair hanging limply over his eyes.

He shouldn’t go on much longer. The sun is already below the tree line, clouds the color of bruises stretching over your heads. You’re really fucked if it starts snowing while you’re out here and you lose visibility.

"Leon," you say. "I think we'll have to stop for the night. The choppers won't come until tomorrow."

"If they're coming," he mutters. It's probably meant to make you laugh, a jab at the occasional disorganization of your jobs, but instead it deepens your already poorly concealed panic.

He's been hurt before. Hell, he got shot in front of you on your second mission together. You pushed on the wound with your own hands. It took weeks for the feeling of his blood under your fingernails to fade.

But this is different. You can't call for early extraction, and you have to survive the night in this freezing abandoned village, an Umbrella lab burning behind you. And he's hurt, and you don't even know how badly.

The noise he made when he hit the wall --

A new thought, sharper and more dangerous than all the rest, shoves its way to the front.

What if Leon dies here, and you have to watch?

"Let's try that one," he says, dragging you back from the edge of your spiral. He jerks his chin down the path towards a ramshackle building. "The top floor has some good sight lines from those windows."

"Can you climb stairs?" you ask. His knee is so fucked you're worried moving even at all makes it worse.

"That's what you're for."

The snow is slippery as you slowly hobble to the two-story building at the edge of the village. 

It’s impossible to stop your brain from going a million miles a minute. You're going to have to double back and cover your tracks as best you can. Maybe you can make a splint for his leg with the shit in your pack and anything left in the building you trudge towards. Should you make him a sled? Could you pull him to the extraction point?

You’ll do whatever it takes to keep that horrible, horrible thought from coming true. 

It takes some time, but you get up the stairs and settle near the window overlooking the main path.

"At least it's warmer in here," Leon says. 

He's slumped against the wall, gingerly taking pulls from your canteen to wash down the herbs he finally swallowed. His forehead is slick and his breathing labored from the effort. "All things considered, it was a pretty successful mission."

You can't decide between watching him or watching the windows, which means pacing between each one and glancing at him every few seconds. It's unlikely you were followed, but successfully completing the mission, injuries aside, feels a little too good to be true. You're waiting for the other other shoe to drop.

"Leon, you got thrown 30 feet into a stone pillar."

He shrugs, then winces. "Just another day at the office."

He rolls his neck, pressing his fingers into it like he can will away whatever aches he's feeling. 

You both get injured in the field all the time. Nothing serious, not usually, and it's rarely enough to require immediate attention. But you also know that Leon sits with his pain. He doesn't call attention to it unless you ask, and even then, you know he downplays it.

But he doesn't lie to you. You don't do that in your partnership.

"Leon," you say again.

He sighs.

"Been better," he admits. "After the stairs up here, I can be pretty sure my lungs aren't punctured. The knee isn't great, though. Hurts like hell."

You walk between the windows again. Did you even clear the room properly? Maybe you should clear the whole building.

"Do you think you have a concussion?" If he does, you can't let him sleep too much, though he needs rest desperately. It's going to be a long night.

Leon says your name in his you’re not being very calm voice. You ignore it. 

"You saw," he continues. "I hit pretty much everything but my head."

Oh boy, did you see.

The whole thing felt like slow motion. The lab was meant to be a virus research facility. You were meant to figure out what they were making and destroy it. But you got there too late -- most of it had been cleared out. Everything important, anyway. Not much left in the way of documents and research, and certainly no staff.

But then you found the fucking plant.

Something left behind unintentionally or on purpose as a trap, you're not sure. What you are sure about is that some virus-juiced up weed caused the otherwise dormant facility to go into self-destruct lockdown. Your coms got fucked, and then you had to figure out how to destroy the plant.

Leon drew its attention while you messed with the door systems, trying to trap it without trapping yourselves. He took hit after hit, his bullets only doing so much against the thick, slimy vines.

You looked up to tell him you found a path to the exit right as the plant managed to hook itself around his knee. It squeezed, and he screamed. You can still hear it.

But that was nothing compared to what came next.

The plant hoisted him into the air by his ruined knee and threw him clear across the chamber. 

He hit the wall with a horrible wet thud before falling to the ground in an unmoving heap.

There are no words for your terror in that moment. Not that you'd ever tell him what it felt like -- you don't lie to each other, but there are things he does not need to know.

The plant turned toward you, thinking its opponent vanquished, and that was its mistake.

You killed that motherfucker. Fueled by terrified rage and capitalizing on the damage Leon had already done, you managed it. And when you finally fell to your knees next to Leon and saw his chest rise and fall, well. There are few better feelings.

But you're not out of the woods yet.

"Yeah, I saw," you say. You check each window again, one by one.

"Can you sit down?" Leon says. "You're making me nervous."

"You don't get nervous."

"First time for everything."

You face him. He looks amused.

"I need to cover our tracks," you say. "Will you be okay for a little? You can have the bullets."

"Woah," he says. Amusement turns to a frown. "Slow down. We saw no signs of staff or guards. 

No one is here. You don't need to cover our tracks. We'll be okay."

The knot in your stomach loosens just a little. Leon is careful in the field. Maybe not with himself, but with intel, preparation, and execution. If he thinks there's no one here, there's no one here. And if he's wrong, he trusts both of you to be able to handle it. He doesn't gamble with your life.

"Come sit," he says. "I'll beg, if that's what it takes."

Somehow, he gets a laugh out of you. "I should make you."

Still, you do as he asks. There's nothing to build a fire with, and while Leon's conviction of your safety is a nice one, you're not totally sold. Best to tough it out until morning.

Leon clears his throat, though it's more of a groan than a cough.

"That wasn't so bad now, was it?" he starts. "If they don't come tomorrow --"

The words fly out of you before you have time to think them through.

"Don't tell me to leave you."

His eyes betray his surprise. A little too wide, brows pulled together in the middle to form a crease you've often thought about smoothing with your thumb.

Embarrassment is hot in your throat. It's important to you to be calm in a crisis, to be able to think through it and come out the other side. But something about this whole fucking day is making you fray at the edges. The echo of his scream, of his body hitting the ground, plays on loop in your mind.

"I was going to say we'll need to find some food," Leon says, slowly. As if you're a deer about to bolt.

"Oh," you breathe. "Okay." You rub your palms on your pants. "You're right."

You need to get it together. You cannot fall apart until it's all over. You're not even the one who is hurt, for crying out loud.

"Hey," Leon says, so soft you have to close your eyes so you don't look at him and reveal everything you're feeling. "I won’t ask you that."

Someday, he might. And if that day comes, you’ll refuse just like you do now. The certainty of it settles in your chest, and it feels right. You’ll never leave Leon Kennedy behind. 

"Good," you reply. "Cause I wouldn't." You dig your fingers into your thighs and make yourself look at him with a smile that only feels half forced. "We can just walk home, remember?"

Leon snorts, then groans.

"Fuck," he hisses. "Damn ribs. Don't make me laugh."

"I'm too funny for you." Worry still simmers just under your skin, but all of this, his words, his laughter, just being near him, it's helping. "You've got a lot of blood on your neck," you say, softly.

The vines were covered in thorns that nicked him anywhere he was exposed. The small slices on his skin are shallow and already clotted, but your hands are desperate to help.

"It's always something."

"Stay still," you mumble. Leon seems to sense your restlessness and allows you to shift closer and clean him up with a bit of water and a bandage from your hip pouch.

"Look," he says, barely wincing as you work. "We got some intel, killed that thing, and the lab blew up. It's cold, sure, but we're inside, and tomorrow morning we'll make it to the field and get a nice, warm chopper pickup."

"You need medical now, though," you huff. The blood comes off easily. He swallows and you feel it against your fingertips. "I'm worried about your knee."

"It's not going anywhere." Leon cups your elbow gently, grounding you. And maybe himself. "We're going to be fine."

He honestly seems confused that you're not as sure as he is, like your fear has thrown him. 

Does Leon Kennedy believe in you that much? He trusts you, you know that. You wouldn't work so well together if he didn't. But he believes in you, in your partnership. The knot in your throat begins to twist into something else, something softer, something more dangerous.

He's not scared at all because you're here. Because you're together.

"Yeah," you allow. "Yeah, we are."

You ball up the bloody bandage and lean back against the wall next to him.

"I'll take first watch," Leon says. He sounds serious about it.

You check the clip on your sidearm and do him the courtesy of not laughing.

"Yeah, right," you reply. "You should rest. We'll have to walk the rest of the way to the field in the morning."

The absence of an argument is no surprise. He's stubborn, but he's able to be realistic. If you're getting out of here, he needs as much strength as he can find.

"The food in medical is going to be so bad," he mutters.

He rolls his head against the wall to look at you. The herbs are working because his skin is a little less pale, his jaw a little less tense. You can only hope he's not in as much pain.

"I'll bring you something good," you tell him. "Sleep, Leon."

He stays facing you, but closes his eyes.

"Fine," he says. "Just a few minutes."

You scoot closer to him so you're pressed together, shoulder to ankle. Leon runs cold, you've learned, but being this close means you can feel the innate heat of him in the otherwise frigid air. Heat means he's alive.

"Body heat," you say, mostly to yourself. "Don't freeze on me, okay, Kennedy?"

"I'll do my best," he huffs. "Just a few minutes, I'm serious. Wake me up if you need anything."

Leon sleeps through the night at your side.

You stay pressed against him with your gun in one hand, ready and willing to do whatever you have to to keep him safe. To get both of you home.

Something has changed. The place in your heart where he lives has shifted, softened, and grown. He is, you now know, essential to you. As fundamental as the blood in your veins, the air in your lungs.

Maybe everything has changed.

That's a problem for later. After you get him to the extraction point, after you see him to medical, after you write up your report and put this mission behind you.

MISSION: GREECE, ELIMINATION OF B.O.W.s AND CAPTURE OF SOURCE

You don't think Leon sleeps for the three days you're in Greece.

It's hard to tell. You feel well-rested each time he wakes you for your watch, which means he lets you sleep too long. And when you take over, he doesn't look like he's sleeping. It's not the soft, relaxed face you now know so well. He's just lying there, waiting for morning to come.

It must be nightmares. You just wish he would try.

The mission itself ends up being kind of fun. Greece is beautiful. Vibrant blue water and endless sky, picturesque beaches and a monastery with the most beautiful stained glass windows you've ever seen. You want to explore properly, to wander the streets for fun, not with a gun in your hand.

The island population evacuated before you arrived, so all you have to do is find the mad scientist billionaire living in the catacombs making B.O.W.s, and kill as many of them as you can on your way.

Bats with tentacles and lizards with thousands of teeth where you wouldn't expect teeth to be. 

Easy, right?

Except for the fact that you have to chase them up and down so, so many stairs.

And Leon falls down most of them.

Thanks to his body armor, he's only a little battered. His ego is probably more bruised than his skin.

But the whole thing takes a lot out of him when combined with how little rest he gets.

You apprehend the billionaire and send him off in his chopper. Your own extraction is quick after that, even if you have to basically haul Leon into the bird. He slumps next to you with a bleary-eyed fist bump.

The island is still below when Leon falls asleep. You turn to say something to him, to see why he's leaning on you with his full weight, only to find his eyes closed and his breathing even.

Just like that.

No nightmares.

Truthfully, this is why you wanted him to just try to sleep. But how would you say that? How would you tell him that you think his body knows he's safe with you just as much as his mind does? That he trusts you so deeply?

It is in this moment that you let yourself think it.

You love him.

Maybe this was inevitable. He's the best man you've ever known. You trust him with your life on a regular basis, and he returns that trust tenfold. You've washed his blood from your skin, relied on his steady aim in the heat of a fight, leaned into his warmth in the darkest, most terrifying places on earth.

Now that you've thought it, there's no going back.

There's no doing anything about it, either. It's too complicated.

Maybe he loves you. You're not sure. It doesn't matter, anyway. You'd never ask him to give more of himself to you. He gives everything to the world already. You won't be another person who takes from him.

So this? A successful mission, the weight of him settled firmly at your side, both of you alive and mostly well? This might be enough.

Leon turns his head so his face is pressed into your shoulder, his hair tickling your jawline. You let yourself lean into him, resting your cheek on the top of his head.

You make each other feel safe. Is that not love?

MISSION: U.S.A., AQUISITION OF ANTIVIRAL MATERIALS

It's too late.

You both know it the moment you arrive.

The pale door stands alone in the middle of the New Mexico desert, almost invisible among the hills of pristine white dunes unless you’re looking right at it. Just as the briefing said it would. A lab hidden from the DSO, from lingering Umbrella hostiles, from everyone. A lab working on antivirals of all kinds, invaluable resources that would be disastrous in the wrong hands.

But the door hangs open.

"Shit," Leon mutters, drawing his weapon. "Looks like we're late to the party."

You follow him through the door and down the stairs. The power isn't out, but the lights flicker when you walk under them like they want to hide whatever awaits you.

It's more bare bones than anything you've seen before. No lobby, no desk. No security room, no floor map. Just a corridor at the bottom of the stairs and doors on either side, all pushed open.

Glass litters the floor, as do crumpled wet papers. There is a sharp chemical smell in the air. You know in your gut that the antivirals are gone.

"No people," you whisper. "No corpses."

Leon nods, face grim. He knows what's gone on here just as well as you do. Whatever small operation was functioning before today is dead to the world. It’ll be a miracle to get any good intel from this place.

"We need to check every room anyway," he tells you.

But before you can start a sweep, someone coughs. It's so unexpected that you both twist on the spot and aim your guns in the direction of the noise.

"Is anyone alive down here?" Leon calls. "We're here to help."

Not entirely true per your mission, but Leon is always here to help. And where he goes, you go.

The coughing stops.

With a quick glance at him, you lead the way down the hall to the door you're pretty sure the survivor – god, you hope it’s a survivor – is in.

The closer you get, the more you hear it -- someone is crying.

The room ends up being an office, small and ransacked. Two people lean against one of the overturned desks.

A man and a woman, the latter crying softly into her hands. They're partners of some kind. You can tell right away. They occupy each other’s space in a way that feels familiar to you, that triggers a deep sense of horror once you put the pieces together. 

These are two people who love each other, and there is no other place they'd rather be, even at the end.

The man has his arm around her, but you can see his face.

He's infected. Not gone yet, but well on the way. Black veins run up his neck into his hairline. If the woman raised her head, you'd undoubtedly see the same.

You glance at Leon, but he's already looking at you, having reached the same conclusion.

"You work here?" Leon asks.

"I'm sorry," the woman mutters wetly. "I'm sorry, we didn't know they would come, we didn't know --"

"What happened?" you press.

"It's all gone," the man snaps. He barely spares you a glance. "Can't you tell? They took it all."

"The antivirals," Leon fills in.

The woman looks up. She doesn't have long left. Minutes, maybe. Her speech is slurred, and her eyes are cloudy, the whites of them spiderwebbed black. You don’t even know if she can see you.

"They... threw a gas grenade down the stairs and... then destroyed it all," she says. "We could hear them smashing vials while we were..."

The woman begins to cough, droplets of blood spraying the ground under her as she heaves. 

It splatters over her wedding ring. Fuck. You were right.

"Shh, Mack," the man tells her. "Don't talk."

She doesn't listen. "Simon," she manages to say, "The files, I--"

The man -- Simon -- rubs at her back until she pushes him away.

“I’m not leaving you,” he says. “Don’t ask me to.”

The words hang in the air. You can hear your own voice saying them back in Nepal.

"Please," she begs.

You take a small step towards Leon.

"What's she talking about?" he says. 

There's no tremor in his voice, but you can hear his horror, his rage. Neither of you can stop what’s happening here.

Simon gets to his knees and reaches for a drawer in the overturned desk. Using a key, or a combination, you're not sure which, he opens a secret compartment with a hushed snick.

And pulls out a stack of files.

"There's no time for us," Simon tells you, holding them out in a shaking hand. The veins in his forearms are steadily turning black. "But you can make more with these. We thought this might happen someday." He glances at his wife and the blood dripping down her chin. "Not like this."

Leon seems frozen in place. It's the worst-case scenario. Two people trying to do good who become victims, casualties, and there's nothing you can do to save them.

You surge forward to take the files. Simon collapses back beside Mack.

"Can we do anything?" you offer.

"Yes," Mack gurgles. "End it."

It's an ask that gives you pause, even after all of your time as an agent. You've killed many B.O.W.s by this point, and your fair share of human beings. It comes with the job. 

It keeps you up at night.

But could you kill someone like this, because they asked you to? To spare them the indignity of turning into a monster?

Leon saves you from deciding. He hands over his gun, and Simon takes it with wide eyes.

"We'll wait," Leon says. His words are shot through with regret. "Outside."

He turns on his heel before the pair can say anything. You think it might kill him to hear a thank you for this.

There's no choice but to follow. You don't want to be here for what comes next, nor should you. 

You shut the office door behind you and find Leon standing in the hall, arms crossed and back pressed against the wall. His eyes are on the floor.

What is there to say?

You stand next to him, shoulders brushing.

And you wait. And wait. And wait.

What does it feel like to die? To sit beside the person you love most as it happens? To be the one who kills them, who ends their suffering? To be the one who keeps them human, in the end. Could you bear that burden?

It's hard not to glance at Leon. For him, maybe you could. For him, you sometimes think you could do anything.

The first gunshot makes you both inhale sharply.

The second, only moments later, is an exhale.

Leon looks up from the floor and catches your gaze. He looks so young and so tired. You're missing something, something big that's making this harder for him. It settles over his shoulders and drags them down.

He heads back to the office and you follow. Of course you follow.

You won't make him do this alone.

The two of you stand in front of the closed door and breathe. It feels like before and after, like there's no coming back from whatever this is.

You squeeze Leon's shoulder.

He reaches for the knob.

The debrief back at base is awful and takes forever. The mission was technically a failure, since you didn't actually get the antivirals, but the files will help immensely. When you're finally done, you amble out of the windowless room into the hall and find Leon waiting for you.

He looks as exhausted as you feel, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He's showered and changed into stuff he keeps around for long nights post-mission, dark sweatpants and a hoodie. He looks soft but weary.

"Hey," he says, straightening up. "You okay?"

You offer him a small smile. "Define okay."

"Yeah, fair enough," he says. He runs a hand through his damp hair. "That was fucked up."

"Yeah." You step a little closer. "Are you okay?"

Leon tilts his head to the side, eyes on your face but not seeing you, not really. He's seeing whatever ghosts are haunting him about this.

"I will be."

"Leon," you say, without knowing what will come next. Just to say his name, to bring him back to this moment. It works, refocusing him, drawing him back to you. You both saw something horrible today. You can feel it in the air -- you can see his distress, the way he's carrying this differently than most other horrible shit you do in this job. It's weighing on him.

"I don't want to be alone right now," you say. It’s no lie, but it’s also disguising what you really want to do – take care of him. After what you saw, you don’t want to leave him alone. "Do you want to come over?"

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he studies you. You try not to squirm. Maybe it's plain as day on your face how concerned you are. Maybe he can see your care for him as easily as you feel it.

"Okay," he says.

It's not that unfamiliar. He's been over a few times when you've been injured over the course of your partnership thus far, dropped things off while you recovered. He even made soup once.

So when you're standing in your kitchen, each holding a sweating glass of water, it's not discomfort you're feeling. If someone asked, you'd say he looks at home in his soft clothes and socked feet, bags under his eyes. More relaxed than before, at least.

"Should we talk about it?" you say.

Leon sighs. "Do you want to?"

No, not really. But the pain in their voices, the horror on Leon's face. The way those two people, utter strangers to you, loved each other in the midst of this fucked up world of viruses and vaccines and corporations that you all find yourselves in. In the face of death, till the very end.

Here, in the safety of your kitchen, looking at the man you love, you think about telling him how you feel. It makes your heart feel like an open wound. You imagine it, what you'd do for him. What you suspect he'd do for you. 

Would it scare him away? How far you would go to save him?

"Not really," you admit. "But it might make us feel better. That shit was nightmare fuel. Not that we need any more of those."

Leon huffs. You still need to shower and change, but this is important. You hop up on your counter. He leans against the cabinets across from you.

"Thank you," he says. "For taking the lead back there. For talking to them."

You wouldn't describe it as such, but you don't say so. You've heard this tone from him a few times before. It's like he's somewhere else.

And he is.

"Did it remind you of something from Raccoon City?" you ask carefully. Not because you think he'll be mad, but because he deserves some care.

You've gotten bits and pieces from him about that day over the course of your partnership. You know how he carries it with him, how his entire life as an agent started there, with the people he lost, the things he saw. You often think about him as a rookie police officer standing as tall as he could against a crumbling city, against threats he couldn't even begin to understand.

You'll never know that Leon, but loving this one means you love him, too.

"Yeah," he replies. He sets the water glass on the counter and crosses his arms. "There was this man who owned a gun shop," he says. "Kendo. He was upset and scared. He told me I was supposed to know something about how it all happened because I was a cop."

The smile on his face is a bitter one. You don't like it, so different from the ones he saves for you.

"I didn't even know how little I knew, at that point," he says. "We're talking to him, and then his daughter stumbles into the shop from the back room. Emma."

You can see where this is going.

"Was she...?" you ask.

Leon nods. "It was too late. He told us to leave them alone and took her back to the room. And then we heard one gunshot. Didn't stick around to hear a second."

You breathe out. "That's...wow."

"A lot of innocent people died that night," he says. "And those scientists today -- Simon and Mack -- they were involved more than Kendo and his daughter, sure. But they were doing good, working against bioweapons. And they died for it."

He says it with resignation, with exhaustion. You know he'll never forget their names. Never forget that he couldn't save them.

"Like us," you tell him. Leon looks confused. "We're doing that, too," you continue. "And we'd die for it, right?”

For each other, you don't say.

He holds your gaze, then nods. “Yeah,” he says. "Don't get any ideas, though."

You smile at him even though his words are serious. "Okay, Kennedy."

Leon stands and holds out his hand for your glass. Your fingers brush in the exchange.

"You know," he says, turning to put it in the sink. "This was nightmare fuel, but I never have nightmares when you're around."

If asked, you'd say it's a strategic move not to face you. Giving you space to figure out how you want to respond.

The perpetual knot of feelings in your chest twists tighter. All those hours he's slept by your side while you watched over him, all those nights without a bad dream, it all sits heavy in your throat. How much it means to you that he trusts you, that he feels safe next to you.

"Really?" you ask, softly. Pretending not to have come to this conclusion yourself. "I'm glad."

Leon turns, blue eyes finding yours once again. He's told you this for a reason, but now that it's out there, you don't know what to do with it. If he feels the same way, if you are similarly essential to him, then what do you even do about it? What would change?

You're too raw for it right now. So you hold his gaze, but hop down from the counter.

"I'm going to shower," you tell him. "Help yourself to anything in the -- well, anything. You know where it all is."

There's no disappointment from him, no deflation. Just solid patience. Leon Kennedy, immovable object. Living weapon. Love itself.

"Take your time," he says.

When you come back, clean and comfortable, Leon isn't in the kitchen.

You find him asleep on the couch.

His face is turned into the pillow, one leg hanging off the side like he hadn't meant to close his eyes, but it happened anyway. It's like telling you the story about Kendo has lifted a weight from him, and he's exhausted from the memories.

All of it -- the entire mission, really -- just shows you what you already know. He trusts you, he feels safe with you. Maybe it's even more than that.

But tonight isn't for dwelling on that. It's for the two of you, safe and together for another day, to rest. Filled with gratitude for that, you brush his hair back from his face as carefully as you can before draping a blanket over him.

When you wake, you're curled up in the chair next to the couch with the same blanket draped over you.

MISSION: DATA NOT AVAILABLE

You usually tell people you like writing reports. It's not as exciting as actually going on missions, sure, but there's something satisfying about looking back on everything you did and explaining it, picking it apart for details and errors and good choices.

Maybe because you and Leon are good agents, which makes your mission reports much easier to write. But this one is taking you forever. And Leon is no help.

The mission, well. 

The mission went utterly sideways. You almost died. Infected with a mystery fever virus and no antivirals to be found, part of you really thought it was the end. That Leon was going to have to watch you turn and kill you.

But he saved you. He saved you by doing the unimaginable -- putting his body on the line for yours. With yours.

And you lived.

And now you know how he feels. How you both feel.

It doesn't mean he's helpful in writing the report, though.

You banished him to your bedroom nearly an hour ago because he was being too distracting. Without his quips and the temptation to touch him every five seconds, you're finally done.

"Sorry to whoever has to read that," you mutter, shutting your laptop. It's almost dinner time. 

"Leon?" you call.

Nothing.

You stand and stretch, the hem of your t-shirt -- it might be his, you're not sure -- riding up a little. Maybe he's got his headphones on.

There's evidence of him all over your place now. His jacket over the barstool, his boots by the door. Two books he wants you to read are stacked on the table, his gym water bottle is in the drying rack. But it's more than that. You know he's here. It's a strange feeling, the safety that comes with that knowledge. Like everything makes a bit more sense, your world righted just so.

You worried before that exposing your feelings would affect your partnership in the field, but you know now that you passed the threshold of a normal relationship a long time ago. You will do whatever it takes for Leon to be okay. It was true then, and it's true now. It's the light that guides your path, the direction your compass points towards. Him, always him.

You find Leon in the bedroom. He's in your bed, shoulders sinking deep into your pillows. A book you got him balanced on his chest, spine cracked.

He's asleep.

He looks younger this way, like he always does, jaw relaxed and brow smooth. His face is turned into the pillow like he's chasing your imprint on it from this morning, echoing the way he’s always aware of your presence when he’s awake. Orbiting you, filling the space you leave him, the answer to every question you’ve ever had.

You just stand there and look because you can. This man who loves you, who protects you, who trusts you. He's given you everything. His mind, his body, his heart, without hesitation. You would have happily spent the rest of your life watching over him, keeping him safe, having his back, and asking nothing in return.

But he loves you.

You sit on the edge of the bed and know he wakes immediately, but he allows you to pull the book from his torso, mark his page, and set it on the nightstand.

"Can I join you?" you whisper.

Leon opens his eyes and smiles easily, a delicate pull up of his mouth at both sides.

"Please do," he says, voice a little rough from his nap. "Mm, come here."

He sinks even further down into the pillows and holds out his arm. You go happily, your head on his shoulder and your leg over his hips.

Leon presses his lips to your hairline and inhales.

"How's the book?" you ask. His heart beats steadily under your palm.

"Good," he says. "Just thought I'd catch a few minutes. It smells so good in here. Smells like 

you."

He says shit like this all the time, now. It always takes your breath away.

"Well, it's my bed," you remind him. He just hums and closes his eyes again. He drags his fingers up and down your arm.

It's a revelation to touch him like this. You never get enough of it, how solid yet pliant he is under your hands. How many times have you wondered what it would be like to do exactly this?

"Can I hold you?" you ask, trying not to sound too shy.

Icy blue reappears between his long lashes.

"Sure," he says. He sounds amused but fond. "Are we sleeping?"

We, always we. Always in step with you, always ready to follow wherever you’re going. 

"For a little."

Leon turns onto his side, showing you his back. You curl yourself around him, puzzle pieces finally back where they belong. Your knee slides between his and his arm rests over yours where it's slung across his torso.

"You okay?" he murmurs.

He might not feel it, but you press your lips to his shoulder blade.

"Yeah," you say. "You?"

Leon squeezes your hand.

"Doesn't get much better than this," he tells you.

You can feel his heartbeat through his back, feel every breath in and out as you match it to your own.

There will be plenty of opportunities in the future for you to keep watch while he sleeps. But for now, you can rest together.

[thelonewolfdreamer]

"If this is the last breath I take, then it won't be in vain as long as I spend it near you."

🪼⋆｡𖦹°🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆｡𖦹°🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆｡𖦹°🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆｡𖦹°🫧

My writing masterlist

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

Pairings: re4!leon x oblivious!fem!reader

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

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.

[genshinluvr]

Shameless

Pairing: RE9!Leon Kennedy x isekai'd!fem!Reader (ft. Grace Ashcroft and Victor Gideon) Summary: Whenever you play Leon's part in Resident Evil Requiem, Leon hears everything you say—from your curses, to your praises, to your reaction to seeing him break open a warped door with his hatchet—he hears it all. Even when you get thrown into his universe, you're just as shameless as you were before you arrived. Note: It ain't a Genshinluvr fic if I don't write at least one fic with an isekai plot. There are snippets of the actual game in this fic, and as the fic progresses, once you/the reader gets isekai'd into Resident Evil Requiem. I had the time of my life typing this out, not gonna lie. It was fun as hell. Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo). Warning: Violence (the usual), Victor Gideon caressing Leon (is that a warning itself?), The Girl, you'll probably get secondhand embarrassment from this fic. Word Count: 9.8k

You're buzzing with excitement, knowing you're going to see the 49-year-old Leon S. Kennedy in his glory after playing Grace's part at the Wrenwood Hotel. You have been anticipating the release of Resident Evil Requiem ever since you saw the trailer for the game. Now that it's in your Steam library, you have been itching to play the game after work.

You're sitting at your desk, knees pressing against your chest as the cut scene plays before you. Your heart is still pounding against your chest after you manage to escape from the infected police officer, Cole. You watch Grace collapse in the strange man's iron grip, her body slumping to the side, and the screen goes black.

"Is it finally happening?" You whisper, leaning forward towards the monitor, and watch the series of police cars slowly appear on the screen, before cutting to a scene where it shows a dead body with strange blotches on the palm of the deceased's hand. Your eyes light up. "It is! It is it is it is!"

The man—obviously, it's thee Leon S. Kennedy—gets up from where he was kneeling and leaves the area that is blocked off with crime scene tape.

"Talk to me. Is this one like the others?" A woman's voice breaks through the sound of pouring rain as the man walks towards the CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS and POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS tape.

"Same black blotches." He ducks under the tape and continues to walk past the police cars at the crime scene.

"And it's not postmortem lividity?" The mission coordinator asks.

"No." He turns toward the area where his car is parked. "No, this is different. That's six now. Six survivors of Raccoon City, all dead from the same thing." The scene switches to the inside of the car.

"Yeah, that's… not good."

"No… No, it's not." The car door opens, and the investigator gets into the car before closing it.

You lean in your seat, biting your bottom lip. God, his voice is so husky. You continue watching the cut scene, completely immersed and enamored by the sight of the man you will be playing as very soon, once the cut scene is over. The mission coordinator proceeds to give additional information to the mysterious man.

You already know who this mysterious man is behind the wheel. But when the bottom half of his face is shown in the rear-view mirror, you audibly gasp and continue to watch the cut scene, watching the man grab his gun and pop out the cylinder, spinning it around before popping it back in, while the mission coordinator continues to speak in his intercom.

The minute the game finally reveals Leon's face, you gasp. "Oh my—Leon, you're so handsome."

For about thirty seconds, Leon doesn't respond to the woman on the other end of his intercom. His eyebrows slightly furrow, his eyes scanning his surroundings. Did he just hear someone else's voice? It's certainly not the mission coordinator. What the hell?

"You there, Leon?" The mission coordinator asks, bringing him out of his thoughts.

Leon nods. "Yeah. I'm here."

"You okay?" Leon can hear the woman raise her eyebrows as she waits for his response.

Leon doesn't respond to her question. Leon glances in his rear-view mirror, checking to see if a random woman may have sneaked into his car, but he sees no one. Leon pushes the start button of his Porsche Cayenne Turbo GT, and the black luxury car purrs to life.

"Send me the address," Leon says, putting his car in reverse and turning halfway. "I'll check it out." Leon puts his gearshift into drive before he drives off into the night.

You stare at the dark screen after watching Leon's car disappear into the night—your mouth agape. You're so glad that you spent $69.99 for this game. You could spend additional money on the deluxe version, but you wanted to finish the game first before deciding whether a deluxe version is worth buying.

You end up playing the game for a little over an hour. You're now on Grace's part of the game, where you need to find a screwdriver for the fuse box in Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center. You didn't know what got into you when you chose to play the standard classic mode rather than casual or standard modern mode.

"God, I'm so stupid. Why am I doing this to myself?" You mutter after Grace grabs the ink ribbon in the room that you unlocked with the Cherub Key. "Limited autosaves, and I need to save my gameplay wisely. Why did I choose this mode again?"

You're roaming around the area as Grace—you're playing in first-person point of view—trying to gather the courage to go to the nursing station. It's so dark that you have to squint to see in the darkness. As much as you want to change the setting to make it a little brighter for you to see in the dark, where's the fun in that?

"It's okay! I can do this! Everything will be okay, and nothing will happen!" You try to give yourself a pep talk, having Grace walk to the nursing station with a tiny lighter in her hand, illuminating her path. Just as Grace approaches the door, a cut scene is triggered, and an infected corpse falls through the door, scaring both you and Grace.

Grace leans down and touches the corpse's neck. "He's dead." Grace states the obvious.

"I would hope so." You mutter, mentally preparing for what's to come.

After Grace moves the man's head, a large hand emerges from the darkness and grabs the infected corpse. Grace lets out a choked gasp, watching in horror as the grotesque monster brings the dead body up to her mouth and bites off the head.

Its eyes lock on Grace, mouth and teeth stained with blood, and it leans towards Grace. You flinch back from your monitor, questioning your choices on playing the game in the dead of night. After the cut scene ends, you immediately turn around and leave the nursing station with the monster at your (Grace's?) tail.

"Come on, come on, come on! Can you please run any faster, Grace?" You panic, shaking your legs as you run to the nearest room that has lights. When you successfully run to Room 203, you turn around to see the grotesque monster at the entrance of the room.

The monster steps into the room, causing Grace to fearfully yell out, "Don't come any closer!"

The monster's gray skin starts sizzling and burning from the lights in the room. It shrieks and steps outside the room. You and Grace watch the monster climb up a hole in the ceiling, leaving Grace alone at last. Just when you thought you were safe, the lights in the room went out, sending chills and shivers down your spine.

You run out of the room, heart pounding against your chest. After you make it back to the nursing station, you grab the med injector and start searching for the screwdriver for the fuse box. You can hear blood pounding in your ears, listening to Grace's shaky breath.

You search around the room and eventually have to move the cart. But before you do that, you move it slightly and open the locker to see a green herb.

"This could be useful," Grace mutters, grabbing it.

You climb onto the cart, grabbing the antique coin from the top of the locker before getting off. You grab the cart and start pushing towards the shelf where you spotted a red toolbox perched on top. Just as you're halfway to the shelf, a metal tray slides off the cart and clatters loudly to the ground, causing you and Grace to freeze momentarily.

You hear chains and shackles dragging on the floor, followed by heavy footsteps that are heading towards the nursing station where Grace is. Out of sheer panic, you grab the cart and move it closer to the shelf, ignoring the other items falling off and crashing to the ground.

You catch a glimpse of the creature through the window, slamming her hand against the glass while walking towards the nursing station. At this point, your heart is in your throat, and you're close to pausing the game and ending it there for the night, but the issue is that you still need to save the game, and if you don't, you have to redo where it last auto-saved.

Once the cart is close enough to the shelf, you climb onto it and grab the red toolbox, unlatching it and taking out the screwdriver. You sigh in relief, hopping off the cart and running to the nearest hiding spot. You extinguish the flames of Grace's lighter, staring at the door while listening to the monster getting closer to where you're having Grace hide.

The monster's hand suddenly appears, grabbing onto the doorframe before walking into the room. It sniffs the air, walking further into the room and looking around. It gets close to where the cart is and lets out a frenzied growl, swiping at the cart, causing it to fly to the desk. Grace whimpers.

You take it as a sign to start running. Before the mutated creature can turn and look in your and Grace's direction, you have Grace leave the hiding spot and start sprinting in the darkness. Since the creature turned the lights off in Room 203, you start running to the room where the typewriter sits. Before you pass the nursing station, the door bursts open, and the monster appears.

You briefly pause the game, staring at the menu in horror. Your heart is thudding painfully against your chest as you try to calm down. You lean back in your seat, heavily debating if you should just stop there.

"But I made so much progress. I have the screwdriver. I just need to find a way to get Grace to go around the monster, run to Room 201, get the fuse from the fuse box in that very room, and run to the other fuse box where I got the Cherub Key."

You take a deep breath and close your eyes. God, this is horrifying. Playing the game in first person point of view makes it even scarier than you anticipated. You give yourself a pep talk before unpausing the game. Grace cries out in fear, freezing in fear when the monster fully reveals itself in front of Grace.

You start mashing the buttons, begging for Grace to start moving or else she's dead. "Come on, come on, come on! We gotta go, or else we're next, Grace!"

As if she heard you, Grace turns around and starts running to the other entrance of the nursing station where the two of you came from. Grace hides near the desk in the nursing station, panting as the two of you wait and listen to the monster walk past the nursing station over and over.

"This is horrifying." You mutter, hands trembling on your mouse and keyboard. "Is the empty bottle even going to work in this situation?" You creep towards the door where the monster burst from, trying to see where it is.

You take the empty bottle out of Grace's inventory and aim for the furthest part of the hallway—close to where the plant was knocked over—and toss the bottle. The bottle shatters, grabbing the creature's attention. It shrieks and charges towards where the bottle landed, giving you and Grace a small window to escape your hiding spot.

You have Grace sprint to Room 201 as fast as she could, but it feels like Grace wasn't running at all from first person perspective. It feels more like a power walk rather than Grace running for her life. Halfway down the hallway, you and Grace hear the monster shrieking and charging towards where you're heading.

"Hurry, hurry!"

Grace pushes the door aside and makes it to the room where the typewriter sits. You sigh in relief, blood pounding in your ears. Grace takes a few steps towards where the fuse box is, only for the entire building to shake and the lights to flicker and turn off.

"We need to get that fuse and get the hell out of here as soon as possible," You say, making Grace go to the fuse box inside the closet. You unscrew the fuse box with the screwdriver, and Grace takes out the fuse, triggering a cut scene.

Grace stares at the fuse, "Alright," she mutters. Grace turns around, and just when she can leave the closet, you and Grace hear a faint thud coming above her. Grace gasps and looks up at the gaping hole in the ceiling of the closet in horror.

Grace takes a step back, eyes still locked on the hole. "Oh my god," Grace whispers.

The monster starts climbing into the room where Grace is, causing Grace to gasp and start panicking. The cut scene suddenly ends, and now you find yourself forcing Grace to turn around and make a run for it to the fuse box where the Cherub Key was located.

The lights shatter, and the building rumbles as Grace runs through the dark hallways of Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center. When you press 'F' at the fuse box, a cut scene is triggered, showing Grace shoving the fuse into the fuse box, pressing the button, and quickly looking back as the security gate slowly pulls up.

You watch Grace drop to the ground and quickly crawl underneath the moving gate. "Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on!" Grace pleads as she crawls through the gate, and the monster appears where Grace came from. You collapse in your seat, sighing in relief, happy that you have gotten through the first (among many) difficult parts of the game.

The monitor goes black before switching to another cut scene—but it starts with showing Leon's Porsche driving through the gate of Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center and to the front. Leon exits the car, and you gasp in awe, completely enamored by the mere sight of Leon S. Kennedy.

"God, he looks so good." You whisper breathlessly as you watch him walk to the door of the facility after closing the car door. "Why can't you be real?" You lament, resting your chin on your knees as you continue watching the cut scene unfold.

Leon stands in the central hall, his eyes scanning his surroundings. It's quiet, too quiet. But despite how quiet it is in the facility, Leon still hears the same voice he heard earlier near the crime scene he left before arriving at the sanatorium. Maybe he's going crazy, and the side effects of the T-virus are starting to get to him.

You watch the nurse appear behind Leon, calling out to him and informing him that Dr. Gideon was expecting him.

"Funny. I don't remember getting an invitation," Leon's sarcastic response makes you snort, shaking your head. Leon hears the faint snort, the corners of his lips barely curving up into a smile.

The nurse continues speaking to Leon, telling him that Dr. Gideon is waiting for him. Leon soon follows after the nurse as she guides him to who knows where. The cut scene continues a little longer, only for the nurse to lead Leon to the rehabilitation ward. The door closes behind Leon, making him turn around. Then the cut scene ends there, and now you're in control of Leon.

You don't move Leon, watching him on the screen and admiring his design. God, the developers at Capcom really went all out for Leon. You spin the camera around, continuing to admire him. Leon looks around the facility, wondering why he couldn't move despite trying to. It's like he's locked in place until someone commands him to move. The nurse is waiting at the end of the hallway, waiting for him to follow.

"Okay, I need to get moving and stop getting easily distracted by Leon," You say to yourself, finally controlling Leon's movements and proceeding to follow the nurse as Leon.

The nurse explains about the facility and what they do at the sanatorium as both Leon and the nurse continue walking down the hall. Leon has no idea where the nurse is leading him, and neither do you, but judging by the map, it's probably to your (mainly Leon's) doom.

"The facility keeps a low profile due to the sensitive nature of the research," The nurse says, walking to the rehabilitation center of the facility.

"Oh, I bet it does," Leon replies, as he follows the nurse throughout the facility.

You hum, eyebrows furrowing at the conversation between Leon and the nurse of the strange facility. "That's something someone suspicious would say," You mutter, face scrunching up. You're so glad that you haven't dealt with any horrors as Leon just yet. "You have a mutated monster stomping around your facility right now, too."

Leon raises his eyebrows at your comment, still questioning if he's going crazy. Leon glances around, then at the nurse, but she doesn't seem to notice anything strange—or hear a woman's voice for that matter—and continues making her way to the room at the end of the rehabilitation ward. Once Leon gets closer to the room and the nurse, a new cut scene starts for you.

You yawn, stretching in your seat, watching the nurse leave Leon alone in the room and closing the door behind her as she leaves. The camera zooms in on Leon, making your face scrunch up.

"God, this Dr. Gideon guy is way more obsessed with Leon than I am," You comment, watching Leon peek at every little thing in the room.

Leon raises his eyebrows at your comment. "Almost as you are? What do you mean by that?" Leon wants to ask. Instead, Leon chooses to stay silent, as saying things out loud would earn weird looks from whoever passes by the room he's in, or could land him in this exact facility.

Little did you know, Leon's searching around for where the voice is coming from. The woman's voice is loud and clear to him, and yet he sees no one. He's alone in this room, but he's been hearing voices in his head every now and then. The voice comes and goes, gushing over him and his skills; other times, the same voice would chime in after someone—who's conversing with Leon—says something.

Leon rests against the desk, reaching for the photograph of Victor Gideon and his medical team that runs the facility. Leon subconsciously furrows his eyebrows as he scrutinizes the image in his hand before setting it back down where he found it. Leon checks the time on his watch, his expensive watch appearing on your monitor.

"That looks expensive, but I shouldn't be surprised. You drive a Porsche Cayenne Turbo GT—that's probably the most expensive thing I've seen you own." You comment, watching the time tick away on Leon's watch.

Much to your disappointment, the cut scene soon comes to an end after the nurse is killed by the chainsaw-wielding doctor. You're soon in control of Leon again and have to kill every infected person in the surrounding area with a chainsaw, which you're not a fan of.

"This thing is a bit hard to wield around. It kind of slows me down, and after Leon plunges the chainsaw into a zombie, I would need to retrieve it again from said zombie…" You sigh, shaking your head. "Oh, shit." The chainsaw drops to the ground and starts spinning out of control.

You force Leon out of the way, trying to avoid getting hit by the out-of-control chainsaw. A zombie nurse charges at Leon with her arms outstretched, trying to grab him. You try shooting the nurse with the requiem gun, but miss.

"Fuck. My aim is atrocious. I am so sorry, Leon. You're supposed to be cool, but I'm making you look like an amateur loser." You frown.

Leon frowns. "Amateur loser? Who are you calling an amateur loser?" Leon mouths to himself, continuing to aim his gun at the infected nurse.

You try shooting the nurse as she gets closer to Leon, but before you can shoot, the nurse lunges at Leon. You let out a choked gasp, assuming Leon is done for, but he ducks underneath the nurse's grasp and shoots her at the back of the head, blood spewing all over the place when her head explodes.

"Whoa!" You gasp, eyes wide in awe. "How did you do that?!" You exclaim, pausing briefly to look at what buttons you've pressed, but you're too busy mashing different buttons to know the actual controls of the dodge he just did.

You unpause the game. "Leon, can you do that again?" You ask yourself, shooting every zombie that's charging at Leon at full speed. How the hell did you do that again? You really need to know what the controls are, or else you won't be able to pull that cool move ever again.

As more zombies emerge from the other rooms in the rehabilitation ward, you shoot every zombie in the head successfully despite having bad aim. An infected doctor lunges at Leon, causing you to panic momentarily, miss your shot, and giving the zombie an opportunity to grab onto Leon and bite down on his shoulders.

"Ah, fuck! I'm so sorry, Leon!"

Leon cries out in pain as he thrashes around, trying to get the zombie to release. You press on your mouse frantically, watching Leon's health bar rapidly deplete at a dangerous pace, the longer the zombie bites down on Leon's shoulders. Leon reaches for his hatchet and attacks the zombie, causing it to back away.

"I really need to learn how to properly parry and aim." You grumble, aiming Leon's requiem gun at the zombie and shoot, only to miss again. "Man, I'm making Leon look uncool, what the fuck."

The zombie lunges at Leon again, and before you can panic, Leon dodges under the zombie's arm and shoots it at the back of its head. The adrenaline dies down, and Leon is left alone in the rehabilitation ward, surrounded by headless zombies.

The only sounds you hear are the sounds of the chainsaw and Leon's heavy breathing, his health bar yellow rather than green. Before escaping the ward, you have Leon search around the room for a healing item. You could use the green herb in your inventory, but it's not enough to fully heal Leon.

"It's okay, Leon! You're going to be okay! You're not going to die under my watch, no matter how bad I am with aiming and parrying." You reassure the DSO agent, picking up the mixed herbs from the glass cabinet that Leon broke. After picking up the mixed herbs, you immediately use them, watching Leon's health bar slightly go up.

You continue playing the game until almost four in the morning, only having to end your gameplay after Leon's cut scene with Victor Gideon after your Mom peeks into your room, scaring the shit out of you.

"Why are you still awake?!" Your Mom asks, staring at you in horror.

You point at your monitor, a cut scene of Leon tied up to a chair playing on your screen. Your Mom peeks at your computer and sighs, shaking her head before leaving your room, muttering under her breath about how you need to stop staying up so late.

You turn back to your monitor, taking multiple screenshots of Leon tied to the chair while Victor Gideon is almost sweet-talking to the DSO agent. You stare at Leon in awe, mouth agape. The side view of Leon on? Whew! His biceps are looking extra delicious.

You bite your bottom lip. "God, I would love to sink my teeth into those biceps of his." You lean back in your seat, groaning. "The ladies at Capcom did a fantastic job at designing Leon."

You watch Victor Gideon touch Leon, almost oh-so intimately. The way his gray fingers brush the strands of Leon's brown and silver hair. Ugh. You're so envious of Victor's privilege to even be in the presence of Leon Kennedy. You make sure to take multiple screenshots of Leon—frame by frame.

Leon can hear the camera shutters, raising an eyebrow. It's strange how Victor Gideon is touching him, and yet this voice in his head is swooning over him being tied up and touched by the former T-Virus researcher. Of course, he doesn't hear you mention a single thing about Victor, only about wanting to sink your teeth into his (your words, not his) beefy biceps.

"I don't like how he's touching you, Leon. He's practically fondling you." You grumble. "I should be the one to do that, not him. Just like how I should be the one to lunge at you and sink my teeth into your biceps, not those greedy zombies."

The camera cuts to Leon looking down while Victor Gideon softly says, "Are the answers to your disease here?" after pulling down Leon's shirt collar. Victor leans down, his face not far from Leon's. "Yes…." Victor whispers.

Leon flinches, his face pinching up with disgust. "You know, I do have a question," Leon says, looking at Victor, deadpanned. "When was the last time you brushed your teeth?"

Leon hears immediate laughter coming from you after asking. Leon's tempted to laugh as well, but because of the predicament he's in, he doesn't smile. The smile on Victor's face slips off, and he backs away from Leon and takes a few steps in front of Leon.

Mechanical whirring can be heard from Leon's end as Victor stares at him, zooming in on his face and his eyes. You take a quick screenshot, thanking Victor for being oddly meticulous when it comes to Leon. If it weren't for Victor, you wouldn't have a lot of screenshots of Leon added to your new collection.

The cut scene soon ends with you taking over fifty screenshots (you're pressing down on the screenshot button, taking screenshots of every frame), and you find yourself back in control of Leon. You frown, letting out a wistful sigh. "I'm going to need to find a stopping point and go to bed. Let's trigger an auto save somewhere, and I'll continue when I wake up." You say to yourself.

You make it to where Leon needs to go and stop in front of a metal cabinet storage that's blocking a doorway. You poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue, approaching said cabinet storage with a cheeky smile. Oh, you are going to enjoy this!

You press 'F,' and Leon starts lifting the cabinet to move it out of the way, his biceps and back muscles flexing as he lets out a grunt. Before Leon successfully moves the cabinet out of the way, you suddenly release the 'F' key.

"Oh, fuck, my hands slipped." You say to no one.

It's a good thing Leon's back is facing your monitor because if it were facing his direction, you would've seen an eye roll from him along with a shy smile. Leon knows what you're doing; he's not stupid. You press the 'F' key again, watching Leon lift the cabinet, his biceps flexing underneath that tight shirt of his. Again, before Leon can fully move the obstacle out of the way, you release the keys.

You huff. "Man, my keyboard is messed up. I really need to get a new one because for some reason, it's not lasting long," You say with a shit-eating grin on your face. "I have a bad feeling that this keyboard is going to give me… issues the longer I play this game with a broken keyboard."

"Oh, yeah?" Leon mutters, shaking his head with a small smirk, his shoulders shaking from his quiet laughter. He can get used to hearing your commentary while he's handling the shit show that's happening at Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center.

Finally, after some time, you finally have Leon move the metal cabinet, relishing in the sight of his muscles flexing underneath his shirt, and the sound of his grunts as he does so. Leon S. Kennedy, the man that you are! The autosave button appears in the top left corner of the screen, signaling you to go to bed.

With a heavy heart, you bid Leon goodnight—as if he could hear you—before pausing and exiting the game. You plop onto your bed after the game closes and roll on your bed, eyelids feeling heavy after staring at your monitor for who knows how long. You close your eyes and drift into a dreamless sleep.

A few hours into your sleep, you wake up to the feeling of your bedroom shaking, forcing yourself to crack your eyes open briefly and stare up at the ceiling, still groggy from your slumber. You rub your eyes, mumbling to yourself, and turn over on your right side before going back to sleep. Earthquakes are common, so waking up to one isn't out of the ordinary. Nothing seems out of the norm, but little did you know, this isn't any other earthquake you've dealt with in the past.

That is, until you wake up to someone shaking you nonstop. "Hey, can you hear me? Wake up!" The voice says as the shaking continues.

You groan, trying to turn over and ignore whoever is shaking you. "Not now." You mumble, eyebrows furrowing.

Whoever is shaking you is very persistent, as they continue to do something to try to rouse you from your sleep. The person starts lightly patting your cheek, muttering about how you need to wake up and stop ignoring them. You finally crack your eyes open after a while, vision blurry from your sleep. A blurry face is hovering above yours, but as your vision gradually clears up, your heart nearly falls into your ass.

"Leon?" You whisper in disbelief, mind still foggy from your sleep.

Leon chuckles, sighing in relief. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Good to see those eyes of yours," Leon says, his eyes scanning the littlest details on your face. "I was worried you weren't going to wake up, but it seems like you're not a morning person, huh."

You don't respond to Leon as you slowly reach up and cup his face with both your hands, still trying to comprehend what's happening. Surely this is a dream, right? You did play Resident Evil Requiem for hours before going to bed, and Leon's the last thing you were thinking about before drifting to sleep.

"This is the most vivid dream I have ever had," You mutter, still holding Leon's face in your hands. "Man, it's going to be so disappointing when I wake up."

Leon stares down at you, confused. "What are you talking about?"

You shake your head, head falling to the side before sighing sadly. "This is the best dream I've ever had, and yet I'm going to get a rude awakening very soon once this ends." You lament.

"Aw, man. I think you hit your head pretty hard when you fell," Leon mutters, feeling around your head for a possible concussion.

You blink at Leon. "Of course, I fell for you. Who wouldn't fall for you?"

Leon shakes his head, the corner of his lips curling up. Despite everything, you still manage to be a sweet talker, much to Leon's amusement. Then again, you do think that this is all a dream. Leon's fingers brush a certain area on your head, earning a hiss from you. "I can feel a goose egg forming."

Now that your mind clears up and you're more awake than you were, you come to the realization that Leon is cradling you in his arms—his beefy arms. Wait, that means that his bicep is your pillow. You rub your eyes again, sitting up and looking around to see that you're not in your room. This dream is a bit too realistic for your liking, because why are you in the attic of Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center?

Panic hits you like a train. Your head snaps towards Leon's direction. "This is a dream, right? I'm still asleep in my bed, right?" You start pinching yourself, but nothing is happening. "Oh, my god. This can't be real. This has to be a dream."

Leon doesn't say anything. Instead, he continues to stare at you, taking in every detail of your face, your hair, and your clothes. The longer Leon listens to you ramble, the more he realizes something.

His eyes light up. "You're the voice I've been hearing," Leon says, his arm still holding you up.

His comment makes you go silent. "Pardon?" You press your lips into a thin line. "What do you mean?"

Leon's lips curl up into a smile, shaking his head. "I don't think now is a good time to tell you when you're having an inner turmoil."

Maybe a hug will help you calm down a little, but given the things he heard you say a few hours before your arrival, it probably won't help. But it won't hurt to try, right? Leon pulls you into his arms, hugging you. Your cheek is cushioned against his chest, his beefy arms around your torso, and his chin is resting atop your head.

You wrap your arms around Leon's neck, feeling yourself melting in his arms. God, it feels so nice to hug him. You can't describe what it's like to hug Leon, but you can live in his arms if it's possible. You and Leon sit like that for a while. It doesn't feel weird or uncomfortable to be hugging someone you don't know—a fictional one, to be specific.

It's comforting and gives you a small window to collect your thoughts. You went to bed, but woke up to an earthquake before falling back asleep. Then you're roused from your sleep by Leon, who claimed that you hit your head when you fell. This is all so strange.

"How the hell did I get isekai'd into Resident Evil Requiem? I didn't get hit by a truck." You mutter to yourself, but it's loud enough for Leon to hear.

Leon raises his eyebrows, leaning down to look at your face from the side. "What does 'isekai' mean? And what do you mean by getting hit by a truck?" God, the creases between his eyebrows are so cute. You'd love to smooth the wrinkles over with your fingers.

"I will explain that to you after you tell me what you meant by 'you're the voice I've been hearing,'" You reply, looking up at him.

Leon stares at you for a moment, chuckling to himself. "Alright, alright, I'll tell you what I meant when I said that," Leon caves in.

Leon's not sure if he should look forward to your reaction after he explains everything to you. But hey, you did say that you want him to explain what he meant by what he said, so who is he to deny you? As Leon explains everything, he watches your reaction and body language closely.

The way your face fell was both comical and endearing because now you're covering your face out of sheer embarrassment, but you didn't cover your ears, letting him know that you're still listening despite your reaction. By the time Leon is done explaining, he has a wide smile on his face, the crow's feet at the corner of his eyes becoming noticeable.

You take a deep breath, trying not to have a mental breakdown after hearing Leon's explanation. "You heard everything." You say. Suddenly, you feel faint, but you can't faint in front of Leon. You can't embarrass yourself in front of Leon for the umpteenth time in a row.

Leon nods, still smiling. "That is correct."

"My cursing whenever you get bitten by a zombie."

"You curse like a sailor, but also like a child who was granted permission to curse by her parents." He replies.

You immediately protest. "What! No, I don't!" Do you? Man, this just keeps getting worse and worse for you. "… You also heard my thirst over your…"

"Beefy biceps, me using my hatchet to crack open a warped door, and you claiming that your keyboard is broken when I need to move the fallen metal cabinet in front of a doorway. I can go on, but I'm afraid that you'll have a heart attack if I continue." Leon says.

You hug your knees to your chest. At this point, you're more likely to die from embarrassment than from a zombie bite. You didn't know that Leon can hear everything you say! Does that mean Grace and Victor hear the things you say, too?

You peek at Leon, "Please tell me that no one else hears the things I say." You whisper.

Leon gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You don't need to worry about that. As far as I know, I was the only person who heard your voice. It doesn't seem like Victor heard your voice, and as for that FBI agent—Grace Ashcroft, I'm not entirely sure."

After Leon's explanation, you choose to stay quiet. There's no need for you to embarrass yourself again in front of Leon, right? Leon checks his watch, and when he looks up, you're staring at him with stars in your eyes. Leon is even more beautiful in person. His hair looks so soft and healthy for someone who bleaches his hair often. God, the stubble… You love the scratchiness of it when you cupped his face in your hands.

Leon doesn't say anything; instead, he lets you do what makes you happy and stay sane. His eyes are blue, but they're not nearly as blue as it was when he was in his early twenties. Maybe they're still the same blue, but you would need to get a closer look at it—if he catches your drift.

"I love how you kept your signature hairstyle after all these years…" You murmur, leaning side to side as your eyes continue taking in every detail of him.

"Now it's your turn to explain to me what 'isekai' means," Leon comments, crossing his arms over his chest.

You quickly glance at Leon's bulging biceps before looking back at him innocently. His biceps looked at you first, so it's only fair for you to look at them in return. "Where do I start…" You trail off, tapping on your chin.

So you start explaining to Leon what isekai means, giving him a rundown on it, its origins, and how there's a handful of animated shows (specifically anime) that have this concept. Leon is intrigued, but also confused. The look of confusion on Leon's handsome face is cute. His eyebrows are furrowing, his head tilting to the side while not taking his eyes off of you for one bit.

You subconsciously reach forward and gently press on the space between his eyebrows, smoothing the creases between his brows. Man, even Leon has soft skin for someone who goes through hell. You meet Leon's eyes, causing you to quickly retract your hand before apologizing sheepishly.

"After explaining to me what 'isekai' meant, it makes sense. Is there a way for you to return to your world?" Leon asks.

You frown dramatically. "Aw, you want to return me to sender already? I'm hurt." You joke, clutching your chest playfully. "I thought you would enjoy my company after going through the horrors of having to deal with Victor Gideon caressing you lovingly."

You turn around and face the wall, pretending to be offended by what he asked. Leon shudders at the memory of Victor's fingers brushing through his hair, fingers ghosting over the dark blotches on his neck after lowering the collar of his shirt. That is not a pleasant memory, and he certainly wishes he could erase it.

"Your presence is a breath of fresh air. I'm merely asking because I don't think you would want to stay and deal with what's waiting for us," Leon replies, reaching forward and grabbing your forearm and turning you around to face him.

You can just melt in his arms right now. You've imagined this very moment, but in a different scenario. Leon Kennedy grabs your arm to stop you from leaving, gazing at you with those dazzling blue eyes of his, his eyebrows knitting together as he pleads for you not to leave. And the way he says it? It'll be soft, making you weak at the knees.

"By the way, you never introduced yourself. You know my name, but I don't know yours." Leon adds, pulling you out of your thoughts.

Your eyes widen. "Oh, crap! You're right! How could I forget?" You smack your forehead before introducing yourself to Leon. After telling Leon your first and last name, Leon stares at you while muttering your full name to himself. Heat rushes to your face the longer he does it.

After what feels like forever, Leon smiles and nods. "Your name suits you. I like it. Your parents must've put a lot of thought and love into naming you."

You stare at Leon, mouth agape. Why did he have to say that? Leon raises an eyebrow at you, smiling in amusement. Without saying anything, you cover your face with both hands as heat continues rushing to your face. This man can effortlessly make you blush like a schoolgirl.

You groan behind your hands. "What are you doing to me?! It's not fair. You know you have this effect on me! Damn you, Leon Scott Kennedy!" You whine.

If only you could evaporate right now. Maybe Leon was up to something when he asked if there was a way for you to return to your world, because how much longer can you handle being in the presence of Leon S. Kennedy? The only thing you hear is laughter coming from Leon—his laugh is soft, very gentle. You peek between your fingers to see him shaking his head, a wide smile on his face as he gazes at the wooden floor.

Realization hits you. You're so fucked. There's not a single man in your life—real and fictional—who has made you feel this way before. Until Leon S. Kennedy happened. You love every version of Leon, but there's something about forty-nine-year-old Leon Kennedy. Aside from his looks, there's something that makes you feel so warm and gooey inside when he shows up on your screen.

You look at an imaginary camera, hands falling on your lap before sighing. "I'm so fucked." You whisper, shaking your head in disbelief. "Okay, let's kill some zombies and get the hell out of here."

You push yourself off the ground, feeling around for the so-called goose egg Leon felt on your head, while Leon gets off the ground and brushes the dust off his ass. Leon grabs your wrist, preventing you from finding this goose egg. You look at Leon, frowning.

He wags his pointer finger at you, shaking his head. "Don't search for it."

"Fine." You mumble, lowering your arm, but Leon doesn't let go of your wrist.

You blink at him, looking back and forth from your hands to Leon's face. Leon doesn't say anything and starts looking for an exit with you in tow, his hand still wrapped around your wrist. You will take that as a win because Leon is holding your hand, kind of! You peek at Leon and wiggle your wrist to hold his hand.

You and Leon soon come across the familiar metal cabinet that's blocking the entrance. Your heart nearly sinks into the pit of your stomach when you realize what you're about to face soon. This is strange; you could've sworn that you moved the cabinet before ending the game right there.

"Step back. I don't want you to get hurt." Leon says, gently nudging you to the side, and starts lifting the cabinet.

You press your lips into a thin line and cover your mouth, watching his back muscles and biceps flex under the fabric of his shirt. Leon grunts and starts lifting the metal cabinet. You bite your lower lip, enticed by what you're seeing and hearing.

After a few minutes, Leon successfully moves the cabinet out of the way. He fixes his shirt before pulling out his gun from the holster. Leon turns to you to see you staring at him in a daze, earning an eyebrow raise and smirk from him. You quickly snap out of it, acting like you weren't ogling him just now.

"So, do I follow you into that room or do I wait out here until you finish your, uh, duty?" You ask, rubbing the back of your neck.

You don't know how much has changed since your sudden arrival in this universe, but you're hoping it's not much change, but who knows?

Leon holds his hand out and gestures for you to follow him. "I'm not leaving you behind, are you crazy?"

"For you? Yes." Is your automatic response. You slap your hand over your mouth and squeeze your eyes shut. "I mean, let's go and get this over with!" You say, grabbing his hand and walking through the entrance with Leon in tow.

You're always amazed by your ability to humiliate yourself. This has got to be a new record for you. Once you and Leon step through that door, everything shifts. The atmosphere, the mood, the air, and the sound. You hear squelching coming from the other side of the room.

Think of someone chewing with their mouth open, but multiply that by a thousand. That's how loud it is in person. The squelching is accompanied by deep rumbles. You and Leon trade looks with each other before slowly making your way through the room, making sure Leon picks up ammo for his guns.

Leon stops in his tracks, holding his arm out in front of you before looking over his shoulder at you. "You're going to have to trust me on this, alright?" Leon murmurs.

You look at him, confused. "What are you planning? Should I be worried?" You whisper.

Leon doesn't respond and continues walking towards where the disturbing sound is coming from. You swallow the lump in your throat when you eye the grotesque creature towering over a dead body, feasting on its rotting flesh. The smell is rancid, making your stomach churn.

You grip the back of Leon's shirt, lightly tugging it. "How can you handle a smell like that when you're dealing with these things?" You mutter to him, tempted to bury your face into his back to block out the smell of decomposition and blood.

"When you're constantly out on the field dealing with these things, you'd get used to it."

You raise an eyebrow at his response. "But you recoiled when you caught a whiff of Victor's breath." You point out.

Leon snorts. "Smelling rotting flesh and bad breath are two different things. Besides, who knows how long it's been since he has brushed his teeth?"

"Can't argue with that."

You continue following Leon around the room while he collects ammo for his guns, occasionally peeking from behind him to get a look at the mutated being. For something that large, you're shocked that it hasn't heard you and Leon walking around the vicinity.

"Do you trust me?" Leon asks suddenly, turning towards you.

You falter. "Uh, yes, I do trust you—even though we met not long ago. I'm surprised you trust me despite the things I put you through." You refer to your failed aiming and parrying before you were isekai'd into Resident Evil Requiem.

Leon chuckles, shaking his head. "Of course, I trust you. You're the only one who kept me sane at the start of this shit show." Leon replies.

Leon turns around and aims his gun at the ravenous, mutated creature and shoots it in the head with his shotgun. You flinch at the sound, gripping his shirt hard as you watch the creature stop munching on the corpse and turn towards your and Leon's direction.

Fueled by rage and anger, the chunky zombie roars. "Food! Food! Food!" He growls, getting ready to charge towards you and Leon.

"Hope I'm not next," Leon mutters.

Before you can say anything, Leon quickly turns around, grabs you by the waist, and tosses you over his shoulders before making a run for it. Upside down, you wrap your arms around his waist, whimpering as the monster gets closer to you and Leon. You certainly didn't sign up for this when you got isekai'd, but hey, you didn't sign up to be isekai'd in general!

"Leon! He's getting closer!" You whimper, patting his lower back.

Leon loads his shotgun, making sharp turns to avoid getting grabbed by the ravenous creature. Leon picks up a med injector from a wall that was broken by the monster, along with the shotgun shells and handgun ammo. Leon quickly grabs onto the ladder and climbs up. You nearly flip over if it weren't for Leon's quick reflexes and your iron grip around his waist.

"Are you sure I'm not getting in the way?" You ask, lifting your head to look at Leon. "I feel like I'm adding more weight on you. Metaphorically and literally."

Leon pats the back of your thighs. "You're fine, you're not getting in the way or adding weight on me," Leon reassures you.

Leon quickly puts you down on the platform, fixes his gear, and gestures for you to get on his shoulders by squatting in front of you. You climb over Leon, stomach resting on his shoulders, while your arms are wrapped around his waist. Leon wraps one arm over the back of your thighs, checking to see where the mutated monster is.

On cue, the chunky mutated monster, which you found out is named Timothy from the note Leon read to you, appears at the bottom of the platform. Timothy growls and tries reaching for you and Leon, but Leon shoots him in the face with his shotgun, but Timothy's not phased by it.

Timothy starts climbing up the platform, causing you to involuntarily flinch. "Leon…" You plead, patting Leon's thighs. "We need to move, or else we will be on Timothy's menu!"

Leon tightens his grip on your legs. "Brace yourself."

Before you can process what Leon's doing, you suddenly feel airborne. Your heart is in your throat as you cling to Leon for dear life. Leon lands on the ground with a grunt and shoots Timothy a few more times before making a run for it, loading his shotgun.

The chase lasted five more minutes because Timothy was very motivated to get both you and Leon. Finally, Timothy stops, and blood starts spewing out of the holes and gashes on his body that he received from the shotgun shells and Leon's hatchet.

While Timothy is gushing all over the place, Leon walks to the other end of the room to collect extra items that are lying around before putting you back on the ground once Timothy explodes. You brush off your clothes and turn to Leon, propping your hands on your hips and watching him reload his shotgun before switching to his other handgun.

"You know, when I said that I wanted to be manhandled by you, this isn't what I imagined." You comment.

Leon shakes his head, chuckling. "Don't worry, there will be plenty of time for that. Come on, let's get out of here." Leon gestures for you to follow him as he walks towards the door where the rotting corpse—Timothy's final meal—is lying.

You stare at Leon, mouth agape. What does he mean by that?! Wait, Leon is probably implying other boss fights that are waiting for both you and Leon. You really need to get your head out of the gutter. You follow behind Leon, shuddering when you step in the pool of blood that was once Timothy.

Leon grabs the hand grenade from the puddle of blood and continues walking to the exit. Finally, you and Leon will get to leave this place and face more horrors waiting for both of you. Leon unlatches the door and pushes it open, occasionally looking over his shoulder to make sure you're still following him.

You and Leon come across a wooden closet with a warped door. Leon walks to it, grabs his hatchet, lodges it between the doors, and starts prying them open. You bite your bottom lip, watching his biceps flex as he tries to open it. Once the door bursts open and Leon grabs whatever is inside, you look away, trying to act like you weren't drooling over him.

"Ready to go?" Leon asks, turning to you as he puts the mod on his handgun.

You nod, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Yeah! Are you ready to go?" You ask, looking at him from the corner of your eyes.

"Of course, I am. I'm always ready." Leon says softly, walking past you while gently nudging you to follow him by patting your lower back.

You bite the inside of your cheek, screaming internally. You really need to get yourself together because you're acting like a cat in heat. Leon pushes the red button, and the attic opens; the metal ladder slides down, and Leon starts climbing down.

Once Leon gets off the ladder, you start climbing down, shuddering when you see the amount of blood in the office. The whole time while you're climbing down the ladder, Leon's keeping an eye out while holding out his hands to catch you just in case you slip. You step into the puddle of infected blood, groaning with disgust.

"You'd get used to it," Leon says. "Come on, we need to find Victor Gideon's office."

You follow Leon out of the Chairman's office, on edge about whether zombies are roaming around or not. You don't think there's any zombies roaming around cause you killed most of them when you were playing as Grace. You come across another warped closet outside of the Chairman's office, and you sit back and watch Leon do his thing.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" Leon asks, turning to you after taking the handgun ammo and shotgun shells.

You look at Leon, flabbergasted. "Wha—is a lady not allowed to admire a total eye candy in front of her?" You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "I have had enough of your teasing! Let's find Victor's office." You stick your nose in the air and walk towards the bar and lounge room.

Leon pinches the bridge of his nose, chuckling. "You truly do make this more entertaining than it should be."

The minute you walk into the bar and lounge room, a zombie in a white button-up starts contorting violently while screaming in agony. You walk backwards frantically, bumping into Leon as the zombie gets off the ground and his head morphs into something more horrifying.

"This place is infested," Leon mutters, shaking his head, and aims his gun at the blister head that's running towards both of you. Leon shoots, and the bullet penetrates the zombie's head, causing it to burst, and blood spews everywhere like a water fountain.

You sigh, turning to Leon. "Can you teach me how to shoot one day? You know, in case I have to fight for both of us."

Leon chuckles, shaking his head. "Of course. I can show you when we come across another zombie."

You and Leon continue searching for Victor's office. Instead of having you walk behind or in front of him, Leon makes sure you're by his side at all times because you'd never know when a zombie will sneak up from behind or jump out of nowhere.

As you're both walking up the stairs to the third floor of the sanatorium, you and Leon hear a faint beeping and gurgling from a zombie. Leon hands you his handgun and gestures for you to follow him quietly. Once the zombie is in your and Leon's line of sight, Leon quickly adjusts the gun in your hand, angling your arms a certain way.

"Make sure to have a firm grasp on the gun so it doesn't recoil and hit you in the face," Leon murmurs, his chest pressing up against your back. "Okay, now, you can either shoot the zombie or the red propane tank. I would go for the explosive canister because it's quicker, and who knows how many shots it'll take to kill the zombie."

Taking Leon's advice, you point the handgun towards the red gas tank and shoot. The red canister in the zombie's hand explodes, taking the zombie out with it. You tilt your head up and see Leon's smile as you lower the gun.

Leon pats your shoulders, "Not bad."

"But not good either." You pout dramatically. "Okay, let's go kick Victor Gideon's ass, Leon!" You grab his wrist and drag him up the stairs to another warped door—much to your delight.

Leon shakes his head as he pulls out his hatchet and starts prying the doors open. Once Leon successfully opens the door, you and Leon enter the room and look around to see many bodies with no heads. You immediately latch yourself against Leon, trembling as Leon picks up the paper on the ground.

"Burst their heads if you want to survive."

On cue, you and Leon hear the familiar screams of agony close to the entrance where you and Leon came. This is not what you expected when you got isekai'd into Resident Evil Requiem. Leon shields you from the blister head and starts shooting the head over and over until the zombie finally dies. He leads to the corner of the room where the other zombie lies and takes the shotgun shells and handgun ammo from the vase.

"Do you trust me?" Leon asks, loading his shotgun and handgun.

You nod. "Of course, I do." You answer.

"Good, cause you're going to need to trust me on this." Leon leans down and tosses you over his shoulders just when another blister head bursts through the door to the meeting room.

You squeeze your eyes shut and cling to Leon's torso as he shoots the blister heads and storms the meeting room, where another blister head is getting ready to charge at Leon. This is going to be a long night, and the worst thing is that you're not even sure if you'll return to your world after all this.

Note: I love how in almost every Leon fics I've typed out, I would be kicking my feet and twirling my hair cause I'm having the time of my life typing Leon fics. I completed insanity mode for RE9, and I feel like I've been through hell and back; I finished that game one minute faster than the standard classic mode, somehow. Every time I write a new Leon fic, I replay RE9 because I miss Leon and want to see him tied up. Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3! Read more of my works on my Grand Masterlist, which contains every masterlist I have created! | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories there, too, but who knows? You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like, as a way to show support! ^^ Join the Discord to get future fic updates and connect with other readers, maybe?:) Raccoon City Sanctuary

[midnightsummerrain]

Hiiii! I have never done this before, but I saw your requests open and I had to shoot my shot becuz 😍 I would like to request rookie Leon if that's possible? 🙈 I will give you the freedom to make their relationship whatever you want! But I'd love to read from you an inexperienced, shy, cutie patoot rookie x experienced and confident reader type of smut thing. I can't stop thinking about the blushy adorable guy gaining confidence via becoming a God in the sheets and that confidence rubs off in all other areas of his life and it's all thanks to the reader ooopsie 😊🤍

You're So Gorgeous

(RE2R Leon Kennedy x Female Reader)

Summary: Leon and you spend Friday night together in your shared apartment. What was planned as a cozy evening, soon turns into something spicier once Leon tries to make it up to you for being late.

A/N: Hello 🥰 Thank you for the request! I know it took me a while ehh but I enjoyed the writing process! Since I mostly write RE9 Leon, this was actually such a fun change. It really took me a while to switch from older Leon to young, sweet Leon lmao. He is too innocent and cute, I can’t!! Thank you for giving me this opportunity! I hope I portrayed him accurately. I would love to hear your thoughts on it. Please enjoy! So much Love, Shell xo 

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, FLUFF, oral (male and female receiving), cowgirl position, kinda shy, adorably cute, inexperienced and needy Leon, Reader is a few years older than Leon

PS: Fic title once again inspired by Miss Swift, if you know you know hehe xo

Leon was just finishing up his latest report, typing away on his computer at his desk when Lieutenant Marvin Branagh entered the office.

“Rookie?”

“Yes, Sir?” Leon looked up from the screen, watching his superior walking over to him.

“You ready with that report?” Marvin asked, his gaze dropping to the opened file on Leon's desk.

“A few more minutes, then I am all done,” Leon explained, eager to finish that report as quickly as he could. Not only because he wanted to do a good job, but also because he knew you were waiting for him at home. It was past 10pm already, and he was the last one in his office, yet again.

Luckily, you had been very understanding for him and his job, never once complaining or blaming him for not having enough time for you.

Your relationship was different from the ones he had before. It felt more mature, more like something real. Something that’s gonna last. Or at least that’s what he hoped for.

As if reading his mind, Marvin’s gaze wandered over to the photograph of you and Leon that had been sitting on his desk for a while now. One of his friends had taken the photo after a night out together. You two were smiling at the camera like two lovesick idiots, so innocent, adorable, and almost cheesily cute. It wasn’t perfect, and maybe that was why it was one of Leon’s favorite pictures of the both of you.

“Is that your girlfriend?” He asked.

Leon smiled proudly. “Yeah. That’s my girlfriend. Been together for six months now."

Marvin raised an eyebrow. “The same time you started your job here?” He asked, a slight grin on his lips.

Leon laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “That’s right. I guess I can call myself lucky,” he remarked, remembering the first time he’d met you.

It was after one very late shift at the RPD. Everything was closed down already, except for a small 24/7 diner in the city. A diner you would later officially refer to as “our diner”.

He was still wearing his uniform, completely worn out and exhausted from work. He just wanted to grab a quick dinner and then call it a night.

As fate would have it, you happened to be there as well, sipping on a cup of coffee in the middle of the night. You looked just as exhausted as him and still managed to give him a smile. A smile that would completely knock the breath out of his lungs, as well as making him go weak at the knees.

Normally he wasn’t the type to just hit on someone, especially not when still wearing his uniform, but he decided to give it a try.

It turned out you were into him as well, and yes, maybe him wearing the uniform did help a little, as you would later tell him. What started out as a few innocent dates with lots of laughter turned into a real relationship with deep feelings and trust.

Well, the rest was history.

“Alright. Finish the report and then you can go. It’s Friday evening, and I don’t want to keep you away from your girl,” Marvin chuckled, patting Leon on the shoulder before walking off. “Besides, I want to go home too. My wife and I want to watch the game together,” he laughed before closing the door behind him.

Leon smiled happily, looking one last time at the photograph before finishing the report.

Meanwhile, you were already at home in your shared apartment. It was small and cozy, perfect for the two of you. You were changing into something comfortable, throwing your work clothes into the laundry basket.

It was Friday evening, which meant it was pizza night. A little tradition you and Leon had established after you both agreed that none of you wanted to cook after the busy week.

"Babe, I’m home!” You heard Leon call from the hallway.

“Coming!” You called back, slipping into your shirt before running off to your boyfriend.

When he spotted you, his face instantly lit up, an adorable flush of redness covering his cheeks and neck. His soft hair was a little disheveled but in the cutest way, and you had to contain yourself from immediately running your hands through it. As much as you loved seeing him in his uniform, you almost preferred him like that. With just a simple shirt and jeans but still so breathtakingly good-looking.

“Hey, baby," he said softly, pulling you into his arms.

“Hey” You smiled as you cuddled up to him, inhaling his comforting scent. “You smell so so good,” you mumbled into his shirt.

You could feel the low rumble of his laugh vibrating through you, your head still on his chest. “Freshly showered just for you. Didn’t want to scare you off with the police station smell,” he teased.

You raised your head slightly to get a better look at him. “Would’ve cuddled you anyway,” you grinned.

“That’s what I hoped for." He leaned in for a gentle kiss, cupping your face in his hands. You returned his soft kisses, melting into his touch and holding onto his shirt. Making out with him always felt like something between sweet and spicy. You never knew in which direction it would lead.

After a few more moments of your lips dancing against each other, he pulled back slightly, looking down at you.

“I have a small surprise for you,” he noted.

“Oh?” You looked up at him, curiosity sparking in your eyes.

Surprises had become another tradition in your relationship. The two of you loved surprising the other with little gifts or acts of service in general, no matter how big or small. It had taken on a life of its own, you could say.

You followed his gaze and spotted a box of brownies sitting on the console table.

“Are those-“ You approached the small box, eyeing the delicious and moist-looking chocolate brownies waiting on the inside. “The chocolate brownies from ourdiner?” You asked excitedly.

He chuckled. “Yup. I preordered them during lunch break and picked them up after my shift. I thought that might be a good dessert for later." He smiled.

You gasped, a little choked up from this thoughtful and utterly sweet gesture. "Leon…thank you! That is so sweet of you!” You said, wrapping your arms around him again.

“No need to thank me,” he said with a soft expression on his face.

You gazed at him for a few seconds, grateful for this wonderful human being who had slipped into your life.

“You’re so gorgeous,” you whispered.

“Gorgeous?” He asked, the redness on his flushed skin deepening. A sheepish smile crossed his features as he scratched the back of his neck. A gesture he often did when he was getting a little flustered.

“Yes, you are,” you giggled, peppering his face with kisses, before taking his hand and guiding him to the kitchen, along with the brownies. You started rummaging through the kitchen drawers, looking for the delivery menu from your favorite pizza place.

“I am sorry for being so late again,” Leon mumbled, eyeing your movements.

“I told you, you really don’t need to be sorry. "I understand, Leon,” you smiled softly, looking back at him. He was always so worried about not being there enough for you, when in reality he had been nothing but a picture-perfect boyfriend to you.

Leon was four years your junior, which made him the youngest boyfriend you’d ever had. Initially, you’d believed that you needed someone older, someone with more experience, but over the years you’d come to the conclusion that this wasn’t the case. Men will be men, no matter the age. In the end, it always came down to what mattered the most: personality.

“I would still like to make it up to you,” he said, appearing behind you and putting his arms around your waist, his face nuzzling into your neck.

“Well, maybe I have an idea on how you could make it up to me,” you teased him, biting your lip slightly, which immediately got him flustered. You could hear it in the way he was taking in a deep breath, as if he were trying to build up the courage to act on it.

It was adorable to you how easy it was to get him worked up, even though he tried to hide it, of course. But there was one factor he couldn’t hide.

His hardening member pressed against your backside, fueling the excitement in your body that had started to build. He started kissing you along your neck, his hands wandering higher up to the curve of your breast. “Oh yeah?” He asked in a hushed voice.

He was needy. Very needy, but that didn’t bother you in the slightest. Having someone by your side who worshipped the ground you walked on, as well as your body, sure felt flattering and exciting.

Sex with Leon always felt new and refreshing, and what he lacked in experience, he made up for with attentiveness and care.

Your pleasure was always his top priority, so it wasn’t uncommon for you to talk a lot during sex. He always wanted to ask what you liked, what you needed, and what brought you the most pleasure, and you kind of enjoyed exploring new things together.

“I thought you wanted to order pizza," you whispered, eyes closed as his hands continued their exploration of your body. One hand was fondling your breast; the other was now on your ass, while his mouth was still busy caressing the warm skin on your neck.

“Right now, I want my beautiful girlfriend,” he mumbled, his voice muffled from kissing you. “Besides, you were the one who started it,” he continued.

You held back a chuckle. “It was just one sentence."

“Enough for me,” he said, groaning when you started pressing your ass onto his crotch. You slowly started grinding against his erection and let your head fall back against his chest. His fingers went under your shirt to get better access to your soft skin, toying with the lace fabric of your bra.

With one finger he slipped underneath, brushing over your nipples, which hardened under his touch.

“Leon,” you breathed, tilting your head slightly so you could kiss him.

“I’ve been thinking about you the whole day. Couldn’t get you out of my head,” he muttered between kisses, his touches slowly becoming more desperate as he groped your breasts.

“Oh yeah?” You asked with a hint of teasing in your voice. You wanted to hear more, so much more.

“Yeah. Had to even excuse myself to the bathroom,” he admitted, rubbing himself against your ass to get a little more friction. He could already feel a small, wet patch forming inside his boxers, clear evidence of how pent up he was.

You looked up at him. “Did you-“

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head as if you’d asked the most disturbing question in existence. “No, I just needed a few minutes to cool down. Also, I didn’t really want the others to see my boner,” he chuckled.

Your innocent boyfriend, getting a hard-on just from thinking of you? You were sure this man was an angel sent from heaven.

“Well, I am sure I could help you out with that,” you hinted, slowly turning around so you were facing him.

His usually bright eyes turned a little darker at your words, his dick already throbbing for you.

“And how would you do that?” He asked. If you concentrated, you could hear the slight shiver in his voice.

Slowly, you let your hand drift along his upper body, feeling the muscles tense under his shirt. You stopped at the growing bulge and started palming him through his jeans.

"Mhm." He hummed, holding himself back from turning into a moaning mess from just one simple touch. He couldn’t deny, though, how much he loved it when you played with his cock.

“I could suck you off, do it with my hands, ride you, let you fuck me into the mattress,” you listed in a low, seductive voice, your hands still palming him.

He blinked a few times, gathering his breath. He clearly couldn’t concentrate anymore.

“Fuck, yes please…I-I mean sounds good to me,” he stammered, looking down. He was practically hypnotized by the way your hands worked their magic on him.

“Take me to the bedroom then,” you giggled.

He didn’t need to be told twice. While still making out, you made your way to the bedroom. The first few pieces of clothes were hastily taken off and scattered through your apartment while still kissing each other every chance you got.

Once you reached the small and dimly lit room, you gently pushed Leon towards the bed, making him sit down on the edge.

With your eyes still fixated on him, you slowly knelt down between his legs, now only dressed in your bra and panties. He looked at you like he couldn’t believe his eyes, his mouth slightly agape. You’d done that so many times before, but he would never get tired of this sight.

“You are amazing,” he murmured, letting his gaze wander over your breasts that were hugged perfectly by the sheer lace.

You remembered him getting it for you after a shopping trip together. You’d joked about trying on lingerie, and to your surprise, he was instantly hooked and practically dragged you to the next store. Initially, you’d thought he would be shy about it but it turned out he wasn’t anymore. With every new set you’d tried on, he looked more and more like a kid waiting to open their birthday presents.

You smiled at the memory, starting to trace your fingertips along his abs, seeing them tense the lower your fingers wandered.

Maybe it was just you being utterly and completely in love with him, but you were convinced this was the most handsome man you’d seen in your life.

Teasingly slow, you helped him out of his boxers, letting his rock-hard member spring free, right against his stomach.

You placed a kiss on the tip, smiling when you felt him twitch under your lips.

“Babe…”

“Hm?” You looked up with innocent eyes, watching his strained expression.

“Don’t tease me too much,” he muttered pleadingly.

“Mhm” You slowly leaned a little forward, licking a long stripe along his shaft, from bottom to the top. “Better?” You asked.

He groaned in frustration, and before he could state another complaint, you finally wrapped your lips around him and started bobbing your head up and down in a slow manner. You didn’t apply too much pressure just yet, letting him adjust to the feeling. One hand was placed on his thigh, while the other stroked the rest of his length that you didn’t fit in your mouth. Not yet.

“Fuck….babe…t-that… that feels so good,” he moaned, letting his head fall back. He was so worked up already from the beginning that it was getting increasingly difficult to keep himself from cumming in your mouth right then and there.

He placed one of his hands behind him on the bed for support, while the other tangled in your hair lovingly, guiding your movements just gently.

You swirled your tongue around his tip, continuing with your movements. Drool was already spilling from your mouth, making a mess on both you and him, but you knew how much he enjoyed it. The messier the better. His words. Not yours.

“You look so so good like that,” he praised as you looked up at him, mouth still full with his throbbing cock.

“Ahh…fuck” He whined whenever you were taking him extra deep, a skill he'd appreciated every time. He remembered the first time you'd done it, it had felt like his head was about to explode. And he'd gladly accepted his fate if that meant enjoying this feeling one last time.

“Holy shit…yes” He watched you through lidded eyes as you kept sucking him off, your cheeks hollowing out for a more intense feeling.

His thighs tensed, toes curling, as he felt the familiar tension returning to his abdomen.

You'd gotten to know the signs when he was close, so before you went any further, you decided to slow down a little to let him breathe.

“That is…god…amazing,” he stuttered, stroking through your hair while looking down at you lovingly.

You smiled at the compliment and licked your lips, tasting the lingering flavor of him.

“Anything for you,” you hushed, stroking over his thighs. “How about…I go on top tonight?” you asked after a few more moments.

You had tried out various positions before, but something about riding him while seeing his overwhelmed and blissed-out expression drove you completely wild.

He looked pleasently surprised at your bluntness, blinking a few times.

“Yeah, please! I'd love that,” he nodded eagerly. “But…I want to take care of you first, please,” he added in a quieter voice.

He loved going down on you, not only for your pleasure but for his own as well. He had to admit, hearing you screaming out his name, writhing in pleasure from his tongue, gave him an extra boost of confidence.

Also, if you'd started riding him now, he would have finished within 10 seconds, and he didn't want to risk that. Not tonight.

“Only if you want to,” you said, but you knew his answer already.

“I always want to taste you,” he said, gently helping you up and onto the bed. You felt yourself getting aroused at his words, growing undeniably wet by the minute. 

He helped you out of the rest of your clothes, admiring your bare body.

“You look so beautiful….wow.” The last words were coming out merely as a whisper. He had seen you naked many times before, but he'd never get bored of that view in front of him.

His hands started playing eagerly with your tits, massaging the soft flesh until he replaced one hand with his mouth.

He eagerly sucked on your already hardened nipples, groaning while doing so, while his other hand kept fondling your breast.

“Leon….yes,” you sighed, arching your back to give him better access.

His cock immediately twitched upon hearing his name falling from your lips. He mumbled something in between, which you couldn’t really tell with his mouth being stuffed full. By the way his erection was pressing against your thigh, you were sure it must have been something positive.

Once you lay down, he reached for your legs, opening them carefully to expose your glistening folds to him. He took a few seconds, looking in awe at your wet pussy, before burying his face between your thighs.

The first few times he'd gone down on you, he'd tried to do everything. His movements were everywhere, trying to lick, kiss, and finger all at once, at the same time.

It wasn’t bad per se, not at all, but it was a little eager. Maybe a little bit too eager even. He just didn’t know how to use his skilled tongue just yet. After directing him a little and explaining how you liked it better, he became a total pro, though, leaving you breathless every time. Just like now.

“You taste so so good,” he mumbled between licks, gripping onto your thighs to keep them open.

His flattened out tongue licked long stripes over your cunt, giving you the maximum amount of pleasure.

He occasionally looked up to your face, still licking over your wetness, trying to gauge your reactions. He wanted to study you, see what brought you the biggest pleasure.

Your clit pulsated with every lick, and the more pressure he applied, the wetter you became.

“Is that okay?” He asked, looking up from between your thighs with glistening lips.

“Yes, Leon. It’s perfect…please keep going,” you whispered, holding onto his soft hair, tangling your hands in it.

He smiled as you gently pressed him down again to where you needed him most, and he happily complied.

After a while he suddenly started sucking on your clit, causing a sudden and intense amount of pleasure spreading throughout your whole body.

You moaned, gripping his hair tighter, hips bucking against his mouth as he simultaneously started licking your clit.

“Leon oh god-“ Your climax was quickly approaching, making you feel like you were about to enter another dimension.

He alternated with the pressure of his hot tongue against you, all the while keeping a constant level of suction on your clit until your walls started to clench around nothing. You cried out in pleasure, feeling your orgasm washing over you.

Leon groaned against you, his cock throbbing in need as he heard your moans and whimpers. He licked you through your high, keeping a firm grip on your thighs as you rode against his face. The taste of your arousal sent another jolt of pleasure right to his cock, which was begging for more attention.

He watched as you came down from your orgasm, placing a few kisses along your inner thighs.

“Where did that come from?” You asked, breathing heavily, as you looked down at him still lying between your thighs. He was smiling proudly, like he just won the award for best oral-performing boyfriend. You were sure he’d never done it like that before, and you’d never mentioned the sucking part either.

“Well…” He grinned. “Maybe I read a thing or two,” he admitted sheepishly, looking at you.

“Read something?” You asked.

“After our conversations…I wanted to improve and try something out,” he explained.

You imagined your adorable, innocent-looking boyfriend reading through steamy articles about how to please a woman right, maybe with flushed cheeks even. He was just the best and most thoughtful boyfriend you'd ever had; you were sure of it.

“That was perfect, Leon. Whatever you read, it was great,” you chuckled, taking a few more moments before you got up again and kissed him on the lips. “You’re the best,” you whispered, causing him to smile.

“Now how about my idea….the riding,” you teased with a grin, pushing him down gently.

“Fuck yes…please ride my cock,” he sighed, taking your hands in his to help you straddle him.

You slowly let yourself sink down onto his length, taking your time so you could both adjust.

You sighed, closing your eyes at the pleasant sensation of him stretching you out and filling you completely. Every now and then you were sure you could feel him twitch inside you.

His hands drifted to your hips, gripping them tightly with his eyes closed and brows furrowed.

„You are so tight around me….f-fuck,“ he said shakingly, trying to catch a breath in between.

“Mhm. And you’re so big,” you whispered. Just as you were about to start moving, he stopped you with his hands still on your hips, fingers digging in your skin.

“Can you wait for a minute?" he breathed. “P-please. I don't wanna cum too soon,” he stammered, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“It's okay,” you said, smiling softly, placing your hands on his warm chest and feeling the rapid heartbeat under your fingers and palms.

His gaze drifted down your body—your neck, breasts, and stomach—and ended right at the point where you two were connected.

“It's just that…you're so beautiful and hot and you do all the right things and you feel so goddamn tight around my cock. So w-warm,” he rambled without taking a breath.

You blushed at his loving words and leaned down to kiss him again.

“I love you, Leon,” you mumbled against his lips, hands still braced on his chest.

“I love you too. So much” He groaned when he felt you starting to roll your hips against him. You continued with slow, teasing movements until you switched to actually bouncing on his shaft up and down.

Mesmerized, he looked at you and the way your tits were bouncing with every movement you made. Once you saw his fixated gaze, you took his hands and placed them on your breasts.

“Touch me, Leon,” you urged him gently, to which he instantly complied. He toyed with your soft breasts, brushing over your nipples as you continued riding him.

“Yes, please keep going fuck-“ He felt his cock becoming harder, if that was even possible at that point. At least to him, it felt like it.

You started to increase your pace, hands still on his chest and eyes locked on his face. His cock glided deliciously against your walls, massaging you and hitting just the right spot. Your clit was still so sensitive from your prior orgasm that it felt heavenly whenever it brushed against his pelvis.

The room was filled with the sounds of grunting and moaning and the wet sounds of your wet cunt riding his cock.

“Leon, you feel so good. God…yes,” you moaned, closing your eyes shut as you fucked him faster.

You decided that if he got to try something new, you would too. With every time you bounced on him, you started tensing your pelvic muscles at the same time, causing you to become even tighter around him.

He opened his eyes. “How did you do that?” He asked, completely flabbergasted.

“Wait…that?” you teased, tensing your inner muscles again. His cock twitched, feeling like you were milking him.

He took in a sharp breath, looking at you with glossy eyes.

“That stays my secret,” you winked, doing it again while continuing to ride him. You silently thanked yourself for keeping up with your pelvic floor exercises.

“Fuck fuck fuck…..oh god….” he cursed under his breath as his fingers pressed into your skin while you rode him faster. His hips bucked up to meet your thrusts until you found a perfect rhythm together.

You cried out as he hit your sweet spot again, making it impossible for you to focus on anything else.

“I think I’m gonna cum…I can’t last much longer,” he said through gritted teeth, breathing heavily.

You nodded quickly. “It’s okay, don’t hold back”

“No, I want you to cum again first,” he muttered. If you were in a different situation, you’d surely went for an “aww” but that seemed inappropriate, so you just kept on riding him, moaning his name over and over again.

You watched as he put his fingers on your clit again, rubbing tight circles on you, and within a few more moments, you felt your second orgasm wash over you. Your walls fluttered around his member uncontrollably, and with that you took him over the edge with you.

“Fuck fuck fuck-“ Was all he managed to say as he came, spilling everything he had to offer inside you. You kept moving in sync, helping the other to ride out your highs.

“Mhm, Leon, please, yes,” you moaned, still moving up and down to prolong your orgasm.

After a few more moments, your movements became slower and slower until you stilled, his cock still inside you.

The both of you stayed like that for a while, catching your breath and just staring into each other’s eyes.

“That was amazing. As always,” he mumbled with a satisfied and pleasant expression on his face.

“It really was,” you nodded with a smile, gently stroking over his hot and damp skin on his chest.

“I feel like…you’ll be the death of me someday,” he grinned. “But in a good way!”

You laughed. “Oh yeah? Well, I am working on it." You winked as you got off him. He whimpered when you did so, already missing your tightness and warmth around him.

He extended one arm out, inviting you to snuggle up to him. The aftercare and the cuddling with him were just as good as the sex was. You already knew how caring and protective he was, but he made sure to prove it to you every single time.

Gently, he kissed your cheek and searched for your eyes.

“Did you enjoy it?” He asked hopefully. “Because I really did,” he added in a quieter voice, as if he weren't sure if he should really ask it.

You giggled and turned yourself to the side so you could really see his face. “It was wonderful, Leon. I loved everything about it,” you said encouragingly, laying your head on his chest. “You’re really good in bed,” you added with a smile.

“Ah, not as good as you are,” he said with flushed cheeks.

“That’s not a competition. It’s about how well we match and communicate, not about who has more experience,” you said softly, brushing a few hair strands out of his face.

“That’s true, I suppose." He smiled, brushing his hands gently along your back.

You stayed like that for a while, cuddling and enjoying the quiet, until you heard Leon's stomach grumbling.

You chuckled. “I guess we should order the pizza now, hm?”

“Yes, now I am reallyhungry,” he laughed quietly. “I will order for us, and you can already hop in the shower. I will join you then." 

“Mhm, sounds perfect." You nodded, slowly getting up from the bed.

“You want the usual?” He asked as he made his way to the bedroom door.

“Yes!” You said, slipping into the bathroom that was attached to your bedroom.

“Anything else?” He called after you.

“Only you!”

He chuckled as he heard your joyous response, staying like that for a few seconds and reminiscing on your shared intimacy. You were his world, and he would do anything to keep you happy and safe; he was sure of that.

Final Note: I hope you enjoyed it! As always, feedback is very much appreciated and means the world to me! No matter if its comments, likes, reblogs. I appreciate the support so much. 💗

My Leon Kennedy masterlist can be found: here

If you want to be tagged in future stories, feel free to reach out to me here or in the comments (I have one for Leon and one for Carlos. You can also be added to both ofc 😊)

Also: if you want to, you can always slide in my inbox and have a chat with me 🫶🏻

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[rednnedy]

Fic idea: pregnancy sex with age gap reader and DILF Leon Kennedy. Reader is maybe somewhere in her third trimester, and hasn’t been feeling the greatest lately. Leon comes home early and surprises her with some nice pregnancy sex and fluffy aftercare

EXTRA CARE ✹ Leon Kennedy

SUMMARY: The last term of the pregnancy is driving you crazy, but you're lucky to have Leon, who's really committed to help you in absolutely everything... including sex to help you ease your pain ‼️NSFW: Fluff pregnant sex and aftercare, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), praising, p in v, missionary, unprotected sex ✹ PAIRINGS: RE9 Leon Kennedy x Wife!Reader ✹ Find me on AO3 ✹ Find me on Wattpad ✹ Join my WHATSAPP CHANNEL ✹ My RESIDENT EVIL MASTERLIST

You’d be lying to yourself if you said it was only your back hurting.

It was your whole damn body that hurt.

After a few days where the swelling had seemed to disappear, your ankles were quite swollen again. Every time you moved, even just a little, you felt a sharp pain in your hips. And not to mention your stomach and how bloated you were…

You’d spent nearly three hours trying to take a nap, but it’d been impossible. The baby'd preferred to move nonstop from one side to the other until she finally decided to settle near your ribs, not without pressing so hard against them that, feeling so frustrated and exhausted, you ended up crying.

You hate feeling like this, especially on days like today, when Leon still hadn’t come home and you really needed him.

You move your hand over your stomach, tracing small circles as you feel little kicks again.

“Yeah, I know…” you murmur tiredly. “Daddy should already be home.”

You rest your head against the couch cushion and close your eyes, letting out a sigh that you aren’t sure was from relief or despair. But the moment you hear the sound of keys unlocking the door, your eyes fly open, and you quickly sit up still feeling slightly dizzy.

“Fuck…”

You watch Leon drop the backpack he always carries to work onto the floor beside the entryway table, just like he always does. He runs a hand through his completely messy hair while setting down his keys, then quickly hanging up his jacket on the coat rack before turning his gaze toward the living room.

His eyes find you instantly, and a smile begins to appear on his lips.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says calmly, now taking off his shoes.

“You got home earlier than usual.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs, walking over to you. “I finished earlier than expected. Thank God we’re working with the BSAA and have more people helping with investigations and paperwork, if not…”

Leon sits down on the sofa and wraps his arms around you, kissing your forehead and then your lips. You let out a quiet complaint of discomfort when he hugs you again, enough for him to immediately realize something’s wrong.

“You okay?” he asked worriedly, pulling back slightly.

That was enough for you to feel a knot begin forming in your throat and heat gather behind your eyes. You also feel tears threatening to spill, but you somehow manage to hold them back.

You try your best to pretend you’re fine, though Leon knows it was quite the opposite.

“You’ve had a hard day,” he states.

“I’m fine, Leon,” you lie, your voice cracking when you feel another stab of pain in your hip.

“Of course you are,” he cups your face with both hands and presses a short kiss to your lips. “Come here…”

Leon moves even closer, sliding one arm around your back until his right hand rests on your waist. The other one settles on your belly, gently stroking it protectively the way he’s so used to doing.

You feel the baby kick almost immediately, and you can’t help but look at your husband, who’s smiling even more now.

“Hey there, sweetheart…”

Leon leains in again, kissing your temple before taking your chin in his hand to make you look at him.

“Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

You sigh far too heavily for it to sound convincing you’re okay.

“I’m just tired, really. Just that.”

“Yeah, I know. But…”

“My feet hurt too,” you add, shifting uncomfortably when you feel the baby’s feet pressing hard against your side again. “And I feel huge. Soon you probably won’t even be able to hug me anymore.”

That makes Leon laugh softly under his breath before kissing your temple again.

“You’re huge indeed,” he says sweetly. “But I’ll still be able to hug you even if you get even bigger, so don’t you dare worry about that.”

You shoot him an unamused look.

“You’re huge because our daughter’s in there,” he quickly corrects himself.

Even though all you wanted to do was cry, a faint smile is what ends up appearing on your lips.

“There’s my girl,” he murmurs, now rubbing your belly with both hands. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

You don’t know what to answer because, if you lie to him, he’d immediately know, but if you told him the truth…

Leon immediately raises an eyebrow, clearly knowing exactly what’s going through your mind.

“Love…” he insists.

“I’m not very hungry,” you quickly answer, sitting up a little.

“You need to eat. If not for yourself… at least think about baby girl.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know…”

You answer exhaustedly and way more sharply than you mean to, regretting it immediately.

God, the last trimester of pregnancy’s really driving you crazy. The days feel unbearably long, and you can’t wait for labor to finally start so all of this is finally over even though, of course, the newborn stage would probably even worse.

But, at least, you’ll have your little girl with you.

Leon sighs, clearly worried about you

“Alright. Then I guess tonight I’ll have to take extra care of you.”

“You always take care of me, Leon. Especially since—”

“I know. That’s my job as your husband,” he interrupts. “Besides, why do you think I said a extra care of you?”

Before you can even answer, Leon carefully stands up, making sure not to hurt or discomfort you, and positions himself in front of you, offering you both of his hands.

“Come on. Get up.”

You groan dramatically while he helps you stand on your feet. The moment you’re finally up, you feel even worse than you’ve been all day.

“Oh my God…” you mutter under your breath.

“Does it hurt more? Do you need to sit back down?”

“Just… Can you massage me a little, please.”

Leon immediately places his hands on the small of your back while you wrapped your arms around his waist. He rubs slow little circles with just enough pressure to ease the pain. Meanwhile, you can’t help but lean against his chest, closing your eyes and quietly moaning as you start to feel a little better.

“There you go, love. Feeling better?”

“A bit, yeah. But… keep going, please. I like being like this with you…”

You stay like that for a couple of minutes until the pain almost completely fades, but in its place, you start feeling overheated. You immediately pull away from your husband, already missing the contact you craved so badly during the whole day.

“Hot flashes?”

You nod at Leon’s question and, without an ounce of embarrassment, pull off the oversized shirt of his you’ve been wearing as a nightgown, leaving yourself in nothing but your underwear before heading straight to your bedroom and lying flat on your back on the bed.

Without even being able to control it, and feeling more and more overwhelmed, you start crying.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart…”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, sitting up. You don’t even know how to position yourself without feeling even more uncomfortable, which seems impossible.

“Hey, it’s okay…” Leon moves closer immediately, caressing your face once again. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t know,” you laugh shakily while wiping away your tears. “Lately I feel like a complete fucking mess, and I don’t know how to stop feeling this way.”

“You’re pregnant. It’s normal.”

“I know, but I feel ugly, sensitive, tired all the time, useless… I can’t even do anything by myself at this point of the pregnancy, and it’s getting tiring…”

“Hey, calm down… Don’t say that…”

You try not to let Leon see you completely wrecked, overthinking everything, but it’s impossible because your husband’s doing everything he can to make you look at him.

“Hey, love, just listen to me… Do you really think you’re ugly?”

You look away again, embarrassed, and that alone’s enough to make Leon stare at you with hurt in his eyes, not knowing what else to do to make you feel better about yourself.

When he sees you turn over on the bed and face away from him, the only thing he can think to do is get up, walk over to you, and kneel between your legs, slowly sliding his hands along your thighs until they end up resting on your hips.

“Look at me,” he insists firmly, but softly.

This time, somehow, you end up obeying him.

“I need you to listen to me carefully,” you nod, wiping away your tears again. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. Do you realize that, every time I look at you, all I can think about is how lucky I am to have such an incredible woman by my side?” his thumb brushes away the remaining tears. “Even exhausted, you’re beautiful because you’re giving everything you have so this little person,” he kissed your belly, “can grow. Do you know how proud I am of you and everything you’re doing?”

Leon stands up, sitting beside you, and kisses you.

The kiss lasts much longer than you first expected. When you finally pull apart to catch some air, you end up kissing again just a few seconds later, each of you wanting more of the other.

The pace and passion intensifies until Leon gently guides you onto your back and positions himself carefully above you, one of his hands caressing your belly while the other wanders across your body.

“You’re so beautiful…” he murmurs against your lips before kissing you again. “God, you’re so beautiful, love.”

A soft moan escapes your lips when you feel his trailing along your neck, pressing a little harder on those spots Leon knows too well drive you crazy. At the same time, you feel the hand that’s resting on your stomach slowly and torturously moving lower until it hovers over your panties.

“Leon…”

You can’t stop yourself from trembling when you feel your husband begin to touch you over the fabric, his finger moving too slowly.

“Leon, please…”

You need more from him, and right now you don’t care the slightest about begging for it.

To your frustration, Leon breaks the contact when he feels your hand grabbing his wrist and guiding his hand beneath your underwear.

A desperate groan leaves your lips.

“Are you sure you want to…?” he asks a bit shyly, both arms braced beside you as he keeps looking at you. “I don’t want to…”

“Yes,” you answer immediately, desperate for him.

Leon slowly leans over you again and kisses you.

Your fingers slid automatically into his hair while your other hand moves beneath his shirt, tracing the lines of his muscles.

“Relax, love,” he kisses your lips before slipping your panties off with one hand. “You sure you’re comfortable with?”

“Yes.”

“Pretty sure?”

You nod, and while his right hand begins to touch you gently, his lips slowly travel along your jaw, your throat, every inch of your skin while he keeps whispering praises to you.

“God, you’re so beautiful…”

Gently, his thumb traces circles around your nipple, while at the same time you feel two of his fingers slowly penetrate you, curving just enough to reach your g-spot.

“Fuck, Leon, yes…” 

You can’t help but arch your back in response to the pleasure you’re feeling. Your legs tremble, forcing Leon to kneel in front of you, holding them as he begins to eat you out. His tongue teases your entrance first until you feel his lips sucking on your clit.

“Leon, please…”

“What do you want, love?” he asks, running the tip of his tongue quickly over your most sensitive spot again, then flattening it completely against you, licking you in long, winding strokes. “Do you need anything more than my mouth and my fingers? I told you I was going to take extra care of you tonight. You know I always keep my promises.”

“I need you to fuck me,” you beg, crying out at the end when you feel him slide his fingers back inside you, moving them faster.

“Don’t you like this? Do you really want more?” he insists. At any other time, you’d have played along, but today… he’s driving you way too crazy.

“Please, Leon…” you beg, biting your lower lip. 

Your husband pulls away from you and quickly strips off his t-shirt and boxers, starting to stroke his cock, already fully erect, and carefully positioning himself on top of you again.

He teases you a little longer, running the tip of his cock along your soaking wet pussy, until he decides he can’t control himself any longer and slowly slides inside you.

You both moan softly as Leon begins to thrust into you, slow but steady, but your voices start rising the moment your husband begins alternating between speed and depth, taking you completely by surprise every time he decides to change the rhythm.

“Leon! Oh my God!” you cry out, sobbing with pleasure.

“That’s it, love… You don’t know how much I love seeing you like this…”

Leon grabs your hips as he continues to fuck you and places one of the pillows under your lower back, slowing down to instead squeeze your ass tightly. You feel your pussy start to tighten around his cock as you feel that sensation you know so well building in your stomach.

Your husband slides a hand from your waist and brings it back to your clit, rubbing it quickly, making you feel even more shaken.

“Right there, Leon, yes…”

He licks his lips and a proud smile spreads across his face, slightly flushed.

“You want me to do something else?” he asks teasingly, fucking you harder now. “Want me to make you come already?”

You nod, your nails digging deep into his back as your moans go from being brief and soft to louder, screaming his name clearly.

“Come on, baby, let yourself go… I know you’re almost there… Come on…”

Those words and his fingers rubbing quickly against your clit, along with his thrusts, a little slower but much deeper, are enough to take you to the orgasm. 

You writhe beneath Leon as he keeps fucking you, now a little slower, until he finally cums shortly after.

“Oh my God, Leon…” you murmur as he pulls out of you, heading straight to the bathroom and returning with a towel. He starts wiping you down carefully despite hearing you protest. “Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I’m incapacitated, you know?”

“Of course I know,” he replies, planting kisses from your knee down to the inside of your thigh. You sigh, feeling aroused again but too tired to do anything about it. “But remember what I told you, that tonight—”

“You were going to take extra care of me, yeah,” you finish his sentence. He smiles, and you can’t help but smile back, stealing a quick kiss from him.

When Leon finishes, he lies down next to you, wrapping his arm around you as you snuggle against his bare chest, tracing patterns with your finger as the day’s exhaustion takes over you.

“Feeling better?” your husband whispers against your hair before kissing it.

“Much better. Maybe it’s true what they say about sex in the third trimester helping with the pain…”

“They also say it helps with labor,” Leon adds. “So now you know what we’ll have to do when you’ve only got a few weeks left…”

You stay quiet for a while, exchanging occasional kisses while shifting around beneath the blankets, cuddling closer to each other.

“You know I’d do anything for you, right?” Leon asks, lifting himself slightly without letting go of you.

“I know,” you answer, even though your mind’s trying to convince you otherwise.

“I really mean it, love. I don’t want you overthinking anymore,” he kisses your forehead. “You and the baby are my entire world.”

You curl up even closer against his chest, wrapping your arms around him as if he might disappear at any moment.

“Sometimes… I worry,” you admit. “Lately I’ve been really sensitive, and I know I’m difficult because of all these mood swings. I also know I should control myself more, and I really do, but I don’t know what’s wrong with me that—”

Leon pulls back slightly to look directly at you. You immediately stop talking, embarrassed with yourself.

Your damn mind again.

“Sweetheart, I told you already: you’re creating a person inside of you,” he says gently. Then, for what feels like the hundredth time that day, he kisses your forehead again. “You’re exhausted, and that’s completely normal.”

“It hurts so much,” he kisses your cheek. Then, he places another one near the corner of your lips. “I’m really sensitive, and my head’s a mess.”

He kisses you on the lips, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you.

“If you only knew how much I love taking care of you…” Leon whispers when you finally pull away from him, stealing another short kiss from your lips.

“And if you knew how safe you make me feel…”

He pulls you even closer, his hand moving over your belly while he buries his face in your hair, against your neck, leaving soft little kisses that now tickle slightly with his beard.

“Sometimes it scares me how much I love both of you.”

You feel him disappear beneath the blankets, only for him to press a kiss to your stomach.

“Do you think she’ll have your eyes?” you ask sleepily, snuggling against him when he settles beside you again.

“No.”

“No?”

“I’d rather she had yours. They’re much prettier than mine.”

You laugh, though it quickly turns into a yawn.

“Come on now. Time to sleep and rest. You’ve both had quite a day…”

Leon adjusts the blanket exactly the way you like it and leaves a trail of kisses all over your face before lying down and curling up beside you.

“Get some sleep, mama,” you nod faintly, snuggling even closer against Leon. “If you need anything, you know I’m here.”

“Even if I want you to fuck me rough at 3 A.M.?” you ask drowsily, a small and playful smile forming on your lips.

“I’ll be here for whatever you need, love,” another kiss press to your forehead. “Take advantage of these six weeks to rest before the baby gets here.”

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! Feedback, as well as comments and/or reblogs, are very much appreciated! My inbox is also open in case you want to make a request or talk to me! 💖

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