summary: at what point does the line between duty and forbidden attachment blur?
pairing: older!leon x rookie!reader
a/n: leon looks so good in requiem... what better way to celebrate his scrumptious appearance than with a fic about him? (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡ (apologies for any grammar/spelling errors i'm definitely not writing this at 3am)
The office is colder than you had expected.
It's your first week at DSO headquarters, and the humming fluorescent lights were already giving you a headache. You can feel the eyes on you from the other staff members, quietly whispering among themselves about the "new recruit". You were prepared for the stares and the names, so it didn't really phase you. After all, you hadn't clawed up your way though intense training and exams for nothing.
The door to the interview room opens and you're invited in by a woman in a grey suit, instructed to sit and wait. She leaves promptly, and not even five minutes later the door opens again.
Leon S. Kennedy. You had heard the name many times from your superiors, learning from his example, watching him in training footage, hearing about his missions. He isn't anything how you expected him to be.
He isn't the polished, stoic hero you had seen in the footage. Nor is he the handsome, charismatic mystery man that people gushed about. He looked... tired.
And not just "lack of sleep" tired, but the tired that settles into your bones. His hair is a bit shorter now, and you can't help but notice the hint of silver that catches under the office light. The lines near his eyes deepen when he gives the room a once-over, not out of judgement, but recognition. Like he's seen too many faces here before.
When he speaks, his voice is calm and controlled, almost cold. "Congratulations, rookie. You've made it further than most. Let's see if you can make it further still." He puts your file down on the table, stamping it with a red "approved."
And just like that, you're assigned to him.
~
Your first mission feels like more of a test of endurance rather than a learning experience. You're heading to an isolated facility somewhere in the outskirts of Romania. There have been reports of bioweapon activity and possible survivors.
You're seated in the briefing room with Leon, sifting through files and data. You watch him as he looks through the briefing, fingers brushing over a digital map as he traces a route for the two of you through the abandoned villages. You catch the faint scent of coffee and gunpowder when he leans in beside you.
"Remember what you were taught. Keep your weapon low until you know what's out there, but never let your guard down."
You nod, heart pounding harder than you want it to. The nerves start to set in, and you swallow, throat suddenly dry. You knew that what you were going to see when you were on the field isn't normal. Quite the opposite actually. But you still couldn't wrap your head around the fact that such monsters might exist.
You're sure Leon notices your nerves. But if he does, he doesn't comment on it, rising from his seat next to you and patting your shoulder. "You'll be fine, rookie. Just breathe through the nerves. Everyone gets over it eventually."
That night, you're seated in the transport plane, staring out the small window into the dark night. Of course, it was thundering and pouring rain, droplets pattering against the glass. Your gaze drifts when you hear Leon softly humming to himself, polishing his sidearm in the dim light.
He must feel your gaze on him, because he looks up, a brow raised slightly.
"Something on your mind, rookie?"
You freeze, averting your gaze. "No, sir. Just... trying to stay focused."
"Good. Focus will keep you alive." He clips back, signaling the end of the conversation. You don't let your gaze wander again in fear of being spotted, so you shut your eyes, the sound of the heavy rain and the hum of the engines lulling you into a light sleep.
~
The mission goes wrong the moment you hit the ground.
The facility is in worse shape than the reports had explained. The doors are rusted shut, shattered glass in the halls, and the heavy smell of decay clings to the air, making it feel suffocating.
You move in formation behind Leon, every one of your senses straining. Your grip on your pistol is making your knuckles go white, every nerve on edge, and the fact that your flashlight barely illuminated the dark hallway didn't help either. The silence is heavy, too heavy, only being broken by distant drips of what you hope is water and the soft scraping of your boots.
Then comes a sound, a wet drag of something alive.
Leon signals you to hold, and your heart nearly stops. You watch him lower into a crouch and you mirror his position, scanning the corridor ahead. When the creature appears, a twisted, pale, grotesque fusion of flesh and metal? You nearly forget how to breathe.
It doesn't seem to see you, thankfully, but you remain still, praying it doesn't hear anything or turn down the hallway you're both crouched in.
"On the left." Leon orders quietly, eyes remaining fixed on the creature.
You obey before thinking, raising your gun. The first burst of gunfire from Leon's pistol shatters the quiet, your pulse skyrocketing with it. The creature lets out an animalistic roar, and you can't help but flinch. You've never heard something so unnatural in your life.
You take aim and shoot, hitting the creatures side, your shaking hands causing your aim to be off. Leon fires again, finishing off the creature with a few shots to its head. He moves with precision, every shot deliberate and controlled, unlike your nervous spray.
When he confirms the creature is dead, still and unmoving as it lays on the ground, he turns to you. His voice is steady, but there's a flicker in his eyes. Relief? Concern? You can't tell.
"You okay?"
You nod, though your hands tremble around your gun.
"Good." He says, lowering his weapon. "You did well. Remember what I taught you. Don't let adrenaline make decisions for you."
"Okay. I'll remember." You whisper, mentally storing that note away for later. When you catch his gaze to continue moving, you see something else there. Something softer.
But it's gone before you get a good look.
~
Weeks passed, missions blurred together, and before you knew it, you and Leon were going on almost every mission together. The DSO knew that if they wanted a job done, you two were the best pick.
Of course, Leon never got any easier to read. He was patient when it mattered and distant when it didn't. He kept every single wall up around you, as if any sign of vulnerability would compromise every mission.
You kept quiet about it, watching and learning more and more after every mission. You learned quickly how to move silently, how to anticipate threats, and how to keep fear from making you freeze. Leon didn't praise you often, but when he did you knew that you were doing well.
Once, during a debrief, you caught him glancing your way while you spoke. Not critically, but almost thoughtfully. When you finished, he simply said "good work", but it left an unmistakable warmth blooming in your chest.
You kept telling yourself it was just respect. Professional acknowledgement, nothing more. But there were some moments, very rarely, when the air shifted around you.
Like when he corrected your grip on a rifle, his hand steadying yours for just a second longer than necessary. Or when he brushed past you in a narrow hallway, his voice low as he told you to stay close.
He never crossed a line, and deep down you knew he wouldn't. But still, you couldn't help but wonder if he felt it too — the quiet tug between the both of you, a tension that neither of you wanted to acknowledge.
The turning point came during a mission in Berlin.
You'd been separated after an explosion tore through the lower levels of an underground lab. Your radio had been damaged, cutting you off from HQ as well as Leon. You stumble through flickering corridors, vision swimming with debris dust.
When a shadow appears beside you, you raise your weapon on instinct, letting out a spray of gunfire. Luckily, none of your shots hit, and a hand catches your shoulder through the dust.
"Easy. It's me." Leon's calm voice cuts through the haze, easing your racing heart, and your shoulders sag with relief. He's breathing hard, face smeared with dust, but his grip on your shoulder is firm. "You're okay. You did good."
You try to answer, but nothing comes out but a cough after inhaling so much dust. He guides you down to a safer hallway, letting you compose yourself while he checks you for injuries. His touch is hesitant, almost like he's scared of what he might find.
"You're bleeding." He points out, spotting the gash on your temple.
"It's nothing." You answer quickly, clearing your throat. Leon laughs at your comment, shaking his head.
"Hey, that's my line."
When you look up, his eyes meet yours. His gaze is tired, yes, but warmer than you had ever seen it. And for just a heartbeat, the walls between you seem to almost fade. The sound of the distant fire, the stench of smoke and burning machinery, it all fell away.
"Leon..." You start, but he blinks, whatever passing between you vanishing as quickly as it came. He clears his throat, taking a step back.
"Let's move. We're not safe here." He says and you nod, following his lead, but the tension between you is thick with everything left unsaid.
~
Things changed after Berlin.
You never brought it up again, but you definitely noticed Leon's slight change when he was around you. He became quieter during missions, but more watchful. You caught him double checking your angles, making sure nothing could touch you, always scanning for any injuries once you were on the transport flight back to HQ.
You also noticed him lingering near you during debriefings, or standing just close enough to make sure his presence was known, but not enough to make anyone look twice.
Once, after a night of cleanup, you caught him outside the safehouse, leaning against the railing and staring at nothing. You contemplated even going out to talk, but your feet pulled you over before you could tell yourself to stop.
"You're out late. Shouldn't you be sleeping by now, old man?" You tease, trying to keep the mood light but internally cringing at yourself.
He gives a small laugh, the corner of his mouth tugging into a half smirk. "I'm not that old. Just wanted to get some fresh air. It helps quiet the mind."
You pause, still leaning against the doorway. "Quiet the mind?" You repeat, not quite understanding. "Like what, some sort of meditation?" You joke, but there's no real bite behind your words.
He doesn't answer really, just laughs a bit before falling silent. You don't push further, staying standing and following his gaze out over the small town you were staying in.
After a moment, he finally speaks, his voice quiet. "You've come a long way, rookie."
You shake your head, laughing softly. "You can drop the 'rookie' now. I've been in the field for long enough."
He glances at you, his lips tugging into a half smirk. "Not sure I can. It kinds of suits you."
You roll your eyes, but the sound of his quiet chuckle makes your heart clench, and you mentally curse at yourself. But he continues, his voice a touch softer.
"You remind me of who I used to be."
You pause, watching him closely as his gaze shifts away from you, and you catch a faint glimpse of regret in his eyes. "... Before what?"
"Before Raccoon City. Before everything changed."
He didn't say more, silence falling over the two of you again. The wind carried the faint scent of rain, and you pull your jacket tighter around you, taking once last glance at Leon before heading inside.
You had wanted to ask what he meant, but his expression said he wasn't ready. So you didn't.
~
The final mission came without warning.
An emergency call, a late night briefing, and deployment within the hour. Of course it was Eastern Europe again; you joked to yourself that you should start a sticker book for every European city you go to.
The mission wasn't anything complex, just a suspected resurgence of BOW trafficking. You had been through much worse, stuff straight from nightmares, but something about the way Leon looked that night unsettled you. He seemed distant, more distant than usual, and surprisingly withdrawn. His words were all protocol, but his eyes lingered on you more than once, as if he was memorizing details.
When you landed, the mission fell apart faster than expected. The intel you had received was wrong and the ambush came hard and fast, nearly separating you and Leon in a storm of bullets and roars.
You follow Leon through the ruins of an old church, boots ponding against the loose concrete, heart pounding in your ears.
"Go left!" He shouts, covering your flank. You turn - too slow. A creature resembling what used to be a human lunges at you, claws digging into your flesh. Pain flashes up your arm, causing you to see stars, and making you stumble. Before you could react, Leon was there, dragging you back, his weapon roaring until the thing fell.
"Dammit, you okay?"
You nod through the pain, your hands trembling as blood soaked through your shirt, dripping from your fingers and staining the stone crimson. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." You say through gritted teeth.
Leon grips your shoulders, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Don't say that. You're not fine." For the first time, his voice cracked. Not with anger - with fear. You had never seen him look like this ever, not towards anyone.
"Leon-" You begin, but he shakes his head, already fishing out a wad of bandage from one of his pouches, tying it around your arm to stop the bleeding.
"Stop. Don't talk to me with that voice." He bites out, his hands moving fast. "Don't let me watch another rookie - another partner go down."
You freeze at his words. This isn't just about you. It was about the ghosts of his past, ones that still haunted him.
"I'm not going anywhere." You say quietly, though your head spins and sweat beads on your forehead as your body fights to stay conscious. Leon shoves some pills in your hand for you to take to ease the pain, and he lets out a slow breath, hands dropping to his sides.
"Stay here. I'll be back."
You nod, slumping against a fallen wall of concrete, waiting and listening as Leon finished combing through the rest of the village, eliminating the remaining threats.
When he returns, the village is silent except for the faint fires crackling in the distance, or the sound of crows coming to pick at the remains of the infected villagers. Your injury throbs in time with your pulse - the pills Leon had given you had helped you remain conscious and stop the bleeding for now, but you still winced in pain with every breath, your arm hanging limply at your side.
Leon is kneeling in front of you, changing out your soaked bandage with another one he found while rummaging through the abandoned houses. His movements are quick and controlled, but you can still see the slight shake of his hands.
"Hold still." He says, voice tight.
"I am holding still." You quip back, managing a faint smile. "You're the one shaking."
He shoots you a look, the kind that usually meant 'not now', but this time there's no sharpness behind it, only fear.
"This shouldn't have happened," he mutters, "You were behind me, I should've-"
You cut him off. "It wasn't your fault."
"Doesn't matter." He presses harder on the wound, and you hiss in pain. His jaw clenches, and he curses under his breath. "You're losing too much blood."
You can tell he's in survival mode, running on pure instinct. The quiet, deadly focus that comes with years of seeing too many people go down. But under it, you could almost see something else, something raw and unguarded behind the walls he puts up.
"Leon..."
He doesn't say anything, tearing off another piece of bandage and wrapping it around your arm, just for it to soak through almost instantly. You reach for his wrist, catching it and making him freeze.
"Hey, look at me."
He pauses for a second, almost as if he's debating whether to listen, before looking up at you. You see it instantly, the way his mask had slipped, even just a little. You saw everything he didn't say - the exhaustion, the guilt, the fear of losing one more person he'd sworn to protect.
"I'm not dying here." You say, your voice steady despite the searing pain in your arm. "You taught me better than that."
Something flickered in his expression, a mix of disbelief at your words and hope. He huffs out a quiet breath that could have been a laugh, or maybe just the sound of him slightly relaxing for the first time in hours.
"I should've stayed closer to you." He says, quieter now. "It could've been worse, you could have-"
"Died?" You finish, smiling faintly. "You'd miss me."
He lets out a breath that sounds like a curse. "Don't joke about that."
You tilt your head, studying him. The furrow of his brow, the streak of dirt along his cheek, the exhaustion set into his features like it had always been there, though you knew there was once a time where he was a bright rookie, just like you. You wanted to tell him that he could relax, that he didn't always have to carry the world on his shoulders.
Instead, your voice is quiet when you speak.
"I'm not joking."
The silence that follows is almost unbearable. The wind shifts, carrying the faint scent of gunpowder and rain. You can hear the distant whir of an approaching helicopter - extraction, maybe. But neither of you move.
He should’ve gotten up. Called it in. Kept things professional.
He didn’t.
Instead, Leon stays kneeling there, his hand still pressing against your arm, his other resting on the dirt beside you. His eyes search yours like he's trying to find an answer he doesn't want to admit he needs.
You feel it before it happens - the pull. That fragile, impossible tension that had been building since the day you went on your first mission together. You knew he felt it too by the way his breath catches and the way his shoulders tense like he's fighting something.
"Leon…"
"Don't," he says softly. "You don't - you don't know what you're asking."
"I'm not asking for anything."
He lets out a shaky breath. "You're twenty years old, kid. I'm-"
"Fifty-one." You say, almost teasing, though your voice trembles. "I can do math."
That almost makes him smile. Almost.
Then his hand lifts, slow and uncertain, brushing the dirt-streaked hair from your face. His fingers linger against your cheek, rough and warm, and you find yourself leaning into the touch before you can stop yourself.
He shouldn't. You know that. He knows that. But the look in his eyes says that logic doesn't matter anymore.
When he speaks again, his voice is barely a whisper. "You scare the hell out of me, you know that?"
You blink through the haze of pain. "Because I got hurt?"
He shakes his head, jaw tight. "Because I care."
The words hang there between you, fragile as glass. You don't move, and neither does he, as if the slightest disruption could break the moment.
And then - slowly, like gravity itself had made the choice - he leans in.
The kiss is hesitant, broken at the edges. His lips brush yours like a question he's afraid to ask, like he wants to stop but can't bring himself to pull away. You can taste the salt of sweat, the faint metallic tang of blood, and the quiet ache of everything that had gone unsaid.
When he pulls back, he doesn't move far. His forehead rests against yours, his breath uneven.
"This shouldn’t have happened," he whispers. “"You’re my trainee. My responsibility."
You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your ears. "Then why did you do it?"
He closes his eyes. "Because I can’t lose you."
Your heart twists from pain, from fear, and from something dangerously close to hope.
"You won't."
He pulls back just enough to look at you again. Whatever walls he had left were gone now, stripped bare by exhaustion and something deeper. His eyes search yours, gaze desperate and longing.
Then the radio crackles, interrupting the moment and bringing you both back to reality.
"Chopper inbound," a voice reports. "Two minutes to evac."
Leon's gaze doesn't waver, but you see the shift, the moment the soldier in him reassembles the pieces. He exhales slowly, stepping back just enough to break contact.
"Save your strength," he says, voice dangerously soft. "We’re getting you home."
You want to say something, anything, but your body is too tired, your vision too blurry from all the blood loss. The only thing you can hold onto is the ghost of his lips against yours and the promise in his voice. As he lifts you carefully into his arms, your head rests against his shoulder, and you can feel his racing heart under you.
The helicopter’s blades begin to roar overhead, wind whipping through the air and scattering ash and smoke around you. You feel his grip tighten, protective and desperate as he carries you towards the chopper.
In that fleeting moment, as he loads you into the back, watching as the medic on standby tends to your wound, you couldn’t help wondering which would break first: his duty… or his heart.
summary: when the city needed spider-man, he showed up. when she found out the truth, Caleb finally let her in.
pairing: spider-man!caleb x reader
art credits
The cafe was quiet, save for a few quiet conversations or someone placing their order. This was always your go-to spot to hang out with Caleb. The coffee was good, the pastries were even better, and the cozy atmosphere never failed to serve as a relaxing break from the bustling city.
Caleb sits across from you, fingers lazily tracing the rim of his coffee mug as he silently watches you eat one of your favorite pastries. You feel his gaze and you look up at him, causing him to avert his eyes with a small smile.
You could see the exhaustion in his eyes, as if he hasn't slept properly in days. Which, knowing him, wasn't unusual. He always gave you excuses that he was up too late playing games, or going over stuff for his internship. But lately, you couldn't help but feel that something was off. There were always some times where the excuses didn't really add up.
"It's crazy how Spider-Man showed up on the bridge last night, right?" You say, resting your chin on your hand as you watch Caleb's gaze return to you. "He held it together like it was nothing. And he saved so many people."
Caleb offers a half-smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, he always shows up at just the right time, huh?" He looks out the window, his jaw tightening as if he was holding back words. "I'm just glad you're okay. I told you that it's not safe to go out that late."
You watch him carefully, taking a sip of your drink and chewing at the straw. "Yeah, yeah. I know. But I got hungry and couldn't help it." A comfortable silence settles over both of you, but you can't help but notice the conflict in Caleb's gaze. Reaching across the table, you nudge his arm.
"You ever wonder who he is? Like, what he's really like under the mask?" Caleb looks almost surprised at your question, but his gaze quickly softens.
"I guess. I mean, he probably wears a mask for a reason." He says, his voice quieter now. "It might be the only way he can protect the people he loves."
Confusion flashes in your expression for a split second before you push it down. That wasn't the response you were expecting. It almost felt like he was speaking from experience. Before you could press him about it, his phone buzzes on the table. He glances at it, then stands up so quickly he almost knocks over his chair.
"I- sorry." He mumbles, shoving his phone in his pocket and already fumbling for his coat. "Something came up. I'll walk you home."
You stand as well, pulling your coat over your shoulders and grabbing your drink, eyebrows furrowing. "Caleb, is everything okay?"
He hesitates for a split second, but then nods. "Yeah, just a work thing. It's no big deal."
You notice how his hand is shaking as he thrusts it into his pocket. Not from fear, but adrenaline. You had seen it before, after he had narrowly avoided a car accident last winter. It was the kind of tremor that came from being on the edge of action, from needing to move.
So it was only fair that you didn't believe him.
But you followed him anyway, out into the busy street and cool autumn air. Caleb stayed close to your side, unusually alert. His gaze kept darting to alleyways, rooftops, and passing cars. You could feel how tense he was beside you, every step filled with an urgency that didn't match his earlier words.
Halfway down the block, you stop walking. "Caleb, what's really going on?"
He turns to face you, his expression unreadable and his mouth pressed into a thin line. "It's nothing. I just... need to be somewhere."
You cross your arms, not amused. "You're a terrible liar."
He opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of shattering glass pierced the air, making you jump. Down the street, a black SUV had slammed into a storefront window, smoke billowing from the engine. People screamed, scattering in different directions as another car smashed somewhere nearby. It was clear someone, or something, was on the loose.
Your heart jumped into your throat, and your hands gripped the strap of your purse, knuckles turning white. Caleb immediately steps in front of you.
"Run." He says, eyes never leaving the chaos.
"What- Caleb, no, we need to call someone!" There was another explosion, moving closer this time, and you flinch.
Caleb turns to you, his jaw tight. "No. Go, now." And without another word, he sprints off towards the chaos.
You blink, stunned, only to see him jump impossibly high before grabbing onto a metal fire escape and launching himself onto a rooftop.
A flash of red, then blue.
And then webbing.
Your mouth falls open.
The figure swinging into action wasn’t just anyone. It was him.
"Caleb?" You whisper, frozen on the sidewalk. "No. No way."
Your stomach twists as you watch Caleb move with effortless inhuman speed as he heads towards the danger. The way he moves, it's controlled. Precise. Like he's done this a thousand times.
Because he has.
You stand there, dumbfounded, heart pounding in your ears as Caleb, Spider-Man, handles the danger quick like usual. Once the smoke settles and the street goes quiet other than the worried chatter of bystanders, the silence hits harder than the commotion before it.
Then he turns towards you.
You didn't move. You couldn't.
In seconds he swings over, scooping you up off your feet and taking you to a rooftop a couple blocks away. He lands a few feet away from you, mask still on. For a moment, neither of you say a word.
Then he sighs, low and shaky, and pulls the mask off.
There's no denying it now. Caleb, your Caleb, stands there, his hair damp with sweat, eyes wide and terrified, not of the fight, but of you.
"I didn't want you to find out like this," he starts quietly, voice raw.
You swallow hard, still partially in shock. "You're Spider-Man."
"I am." He shifts, glancing down at the mask in his hand. "I didn't tell you because I thought... if you knew, you wouldn't be able to look at me the same."
"You lied to me."
"It was to protect you."
You step back, just slightly, but it was enough for his shoulders to tense. “All those bruises, the late nights, the excuses… I just thought you were pushing yourself too hard. I didn’t think you were out risking your life every night.”
Caleb reaches out for a second but hesitates, drawing his hand back. “I never wanted you to be involved… I…” He sighs, guilt painting his expression. “I thought if I could just keep it separate, keep you separate… maybe I could have this one good thing without ruining it.”
“But you still did.” Your voice is low, and you look away, a lump forming in your throat.
That breaks something in him. “I know. And I’m sorry. I just… I couldn’t lose you.”
You bite back a snarky comment, letting a heavy silence settle between the two of you. Caleb avoids your gaze, lost in thought.
You take a second to look, really look. The suit, the scratches on his cheek, and the shaking in his hands as he grips his mask. This was the same boy who always insisted on walking you home, who made you laugh when things got hard, or listened when you needed to get something off your chest.
But this was also the boy who fought criminals, leapt off buildings, and carried the city on his back without ever asking for thanks.
Somehow, impossibly, they were the same person.
“So what happens now?” Your voice is quiet when you break the silence, and Caleb looks at you, desperate and vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen him before.
“That’s your choice.”
You don’t speak right away, and Caleb doesn’t move.
He just stood there, mask in hand. He wasn’t the smooth-talking, confident guy you joked with at cafe’s, the guy who would give you his jacket when you mentioned you were a bit cold. He seemed… realer. Someone who was carrying more than he’d ever let show.
Part of you wants to scream. But yet another part wants to reach out to him. And in the end, it’s the truth that comes out first.
“I’m scared.” You admit softly. “Not of you… just… of what this means.”
His eyes search yours, like he’s waiting for you to push him away, to tell him that you don’t want anything to do with him anymore.
You continue, voice trembling. “You go out there every night, and I had no idea. You could have been hurt, even killed, and I wouldn’t have known why. I would’ve just… lost you.”
Caleb steps forward once, cautious, like he’s approaching a wounded animal. “There’s been so many times where I’ve wanted to tell you. Hundreds of times. But I kept thinking if I told you it would change things, that you’d see me differently.”
“I do.” You say, looking straight at him. “But not in the way you think.”
He blinks, staying quiet, so you continue.
“I see more now.” You add, stepping closer. “You’ve been carrying this alone the whole time. Having so much responsibility on your shoulders, yet you still show up every time for me.”
Caleb lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for years, and he studies your expression carefully.
“You’re angry.” He says, voice low.
“I am.” You admit. “You should’ve told me. But I think I understand why you didn’t.”
His expression softens. He looks at you, not as Spider-Man, not as Caleb the charmer or the protector. But just… as himself. Tired, scared, but hopeful.
“I don’t want to do this alone anymore.” He says, voice thick with emotion. “Not if you’re still willing to be a part of it.”
You reach for his hand, his calloused fingers threading through yours. His touch is warm, familiar, and you give his hand a light squeeze.
“You’re stuck with me now.” You say with a playful smile. “Mask or no mask.”
Caleb smiles, really smiles. He pulls you close and leans his forehead against yours, and he can feel his heart hammering in his ears. Just for a moment, it feels like his world finally stopped spinning.
~
The city has finally calmed down, the sirens from earlier fading into the distance. The sky was hazy, the sun just dipping behind the horizon and painting the world in hues of orange and pink.
You sit beside Caleb on the edge of the rooftop, just high enough to see the skyline. His mask is off, crumpled in his lap. A cool breeze blows through your hair, and you lean over and rest your head on his shoulder.
Neither of you spoke for a while, letting the quiet hum of the city fill the silence.
There’s something oddly peaceful about the silence now. Like all the noise between you two had disappeared when you found out the truth. There’s no more hiding, lies, or guessing. Just him and you.
He finally speaks, voice quiet. “You still okay?”
You nod, gaze fixed ahead. “Yeah. Still processing.”
“Same.” He says with a short laugh, draping an arm around your shoulders. You glance over at him, taking in his slightly scuffed suit, the small cut on his cheek and how his hair is a bit messy. But he looked lighter, more relaxed.
“Do you do this every night?” You ask softly.
“Most nights.”
“That must be nice.” You comment, leaning into him a bit more.
“It is. Sometimes… it makes everything feel less heavy.”
You look out over the city with him, lights blinking far below. Somewhere, someone else is probably in trouble already. But for now, in this moment, it’s just you and Caleb.
“You’re not alone anymore, Caleb.”
He turns to look at you, eyes meeting yours, and you can see something raw and grateful behind his soft gaze.
“Neither are you.” He says quietly, letting out a slow breath and tilting his head so it rests gently against yours.
The breeze is steady, carrying with it the hum of a city that never really sleeps. But for once, neither of you needs to move.
The rain had been falling since the morning, a steady drizzle that turned the school courtyard into a blur of grey puddles and umbrella tops. You're sitting by the window in an empty class as the other students are outside for their lunch break, your backpack at your feet and a pair of pitifully broken headphones in your hands.
The right earbud had stopped working weeks ago, and you had barely survived with just the left one, but now the left side dangles uselessly from your hands. The wire is twisted into a knot, and you make a mental note not to just shove them into your backpack, no matter how much of a rush you're in.
You let out an exasperated sigh. "Well, there goes my only source of motivation."
"Your headphones?"
You didn't have to look up to recognize the voice. Caleb's tone had a calm to it, the kind that made people stop in hallways and listen whenever he spoke. You lift your gaze to find him standing there, droplets of rain clinging to his hair, his school tie slightly loose as usual.
"What else?" You mutter, shoving them back into your bag in a huff. "The other side gave up on me. Right before math too."
Caleb crouches in front of you, his light eyes soft but curious. "Did you sit on them again?"
You scowl, shoving his shoulder so he almost tips over. "That was one time. And they barely cracked."
He chuckles, the sound low and warm. "You should probably stop buying the cheapest pair from the convenience store, then."
You make a face. "Well, not everyone can afford your fancy model."
"Fancy?" He raises a brow, amused. "These?" He tugs at the black earbuds looped around his neck, undamaged and clearly well-loved.
"Yes, those." You cross your arms. "The sound quality probably makes angels cry."
Caleb looks at you for a beat, then smiles, the kind of smile that makes you feel like he's remembering something that only the two of you shared. "You really can't survive a day without music, huh?"
"Music keeps me sane."
He tilts his head, considering that. "Then you can borrow mine."
You blink. "What?"
"I mean it." He pulls the earbuds from around his neck, offering you one side while tucking the other in his ear. "We can share. You get the left side, I'll take the right."
It takes you a second to process that. "You... want to share headphones? Like, literally?"
He nods, unfazed. "We used to share candy, what's so different about earphones?"
"Um, everything?" You sputter, cheeks warming. "Plus, that was when we were kids. You can't just... we'll be... close."
Caleb shrugs. "We've been close since kindergarten."
You open your mouth to argue, but the steady look in his eyes completely derail your train of thought. He holds out the left earbud still, waiting.
Reluctantly but secretly grateful, you take it. His fingers brush yours for a fraction of a second, and somehow that tiny contact makes the air between you shift.
"Okay," you mutter, plugging it into your ear. "But if you play any of your weird music again, I'm leaving."
Caleb smiles, opening his phone and scrolling through a playlist. "Relax, I have taste."
You lean back against the wall, your gaze shifting out the window, careful not to move too much. The wire of Caleb's earphones hug between the two of you like a fragile thread of connection. The first notes of a soft song fill your ear, and you sit up, recognizing the song instantly.
"Hey, this is-"
"Your favorite, I know." He finishes for you, offering you a grin.
You turn to him, surprise etched into your expression. "You remember?"
"Of course." He looks out towards the rain, voice quieter now. "You used to play it every morning before school. I'd hear it through your window while brushing my teeth."
Your heart did a weird little skip. The two of you had lived next door since forever, childhood mornings filled with sleepy greetings, shared walks to the bus stop, late night talks through open bedroom windows... Somewhere along the way, that childhood friendship had blurred into something softer as you both grew, something that both of you tried hard to ignore in fear of growing apart.
The song continued, and you find yourself watching the way Caleb's fingers tapped lightly on his knee to the rhythm, as if he'd listened to this song on his own a hundred times.
"You know," you say after a moment, breaking the silence. "You're being unusually nice today."
"Am I?"
"Yeah. Usually you'd be teasing me about me breaking my stuff again."
Caleb smirks. "Maybe I'm maturing."
"Yeah, fat chance." You say with a playful smile. "Maybe you just feel bad for the poor girl who just lost her only way to drown out math class."
He laughs, the sound bubbling through the music. "You really hate math that much?"
"It's a crime against humanity."
"Well," he says, his voice going soft. "Guess I'll just have to make sure you survive it."
You turn to him again, catching his steady gaze, unreadable but warm, enough to make you suddenly forget how to breathe properly. For a moment, all you can hear is the shared music, and you forget just how romantic this song really is.
Then the bell rings.
You both flinch, reality pushing away the gentle moment. Caleb stands, offering a hand. You take it automatically, letting him pull you up.
"Thanks for the save." You say, handing the earbud back. "I needed that before class."
"Keep it."
You freeze. "What?"
"You can borrow them until you get new ones." He says with a grin. "I've got a spare pair at home anyways."
"But-"
"No buts. I'd rather you not spend the day sulking without music."
You feel your chest tighten in that painfully sweet way it always did when Caleb went all gentle on you. "You really shouldn't be this nice, you know."
"Why not?" He asks, tilting his head.
"Because it makes it hard to hate you." You comment, slinging your bag over your shoulder.
His smile softens into something that wasn't quite teasing anymore. "Good."
You stare at him, completely at a loss for words. The rain had stopped, sunlight breaking through the clouds just enough to peek through the windows. For a second, it feels like time slows down, the world reducing to this moment, the two of you, and the echo of the song you just shared.
You break the silence with a weak laugh. "You're impossible."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Don't."
Caleb chuckles again, grabbing his bag from the floor. "Come on, we'll be late."
You fall into step beside him, brushing shoulders as you walk down the hall towards the main building. The faint music still played from one earbud in your ear, and you couldn't help but smile.
You don't remember when you had stopped believing in rescue.
Maybe it was the first night when you heard the villagers chanting in the dark. Their voices were sickly and inhuman, your blood pounding in your ears while Leon had said "Stay behind me." Maybe it was when you saw what the Plaga did to their eyes, that hollow, marionette stare that made you wonder if the parasite just revealed what was already inside people.
But you had tried to believe Leon when he had told you that he would get you both out of there. That you just needed to hang in there for a bit longer and they would send a helicopter after you. You believed him because Leon always sounded so sure.
You had learned quickly that Leon carried the world like a punishment. Every decision he made was a calculation, and every choice an echo of orders that never stopped replaying in his head. And when he smiled, it was never for long.
Still, when he looked at you, there was something softer about his gaze that was softer, more human. The way his voice softened when he said your name, how his hand would brush against yours when he handed you more ammo.
Those tiny bits of normalcy in the nightmare became everything to you.
Once, when you were catching your breath behind a crumbling wall, you had asked him, "Do you ever think we have a choice? To leave this life behind, start fresh, follow our own dreams? Or are we just... pretending we do?"
He hadn't looked at you. He just wiped the blood from his knife and said quietly, "Pretending's all we got to keep us going."
You tried to laugh, but the sound had gotten caught in your throat.
That was the moment when you realized that Leon Kennedy didn't believe in happy endings. He had abandoned that way of thinking long ago, and focused only on survival.
~
Then everything had happened in a blur. You were captured, fighting the best you could. You screamed his name until your throat was raw and you didn't even recognize your own voice anymore. And when you woke up in the cold, damp room, your body hurt and your mind had fogged with whispers that weren't your own.
You didn't know what they had done to you, only that something inside of you didn't feel like you anymore.
But you still remembered Leon's voice, steady even though you had just been ripped from him. "I'll find you. I promise."
And you wanted to believe him, even as the world tilted and darkness pulsed behind your eyes.
~
He did find you. Of course he did.
He always keeps his promises, even when they break him.
When he bursts through the door, gun drawn and eyes wide with desperate relief, you almost forget about the thing crawling under your skin. You almost forget about the chanting in your head.
He drops to his knees beside you, hand trembling as it finds yours.
"Hey, hey, it's me. You're okay. I've got you."
You smile, or try to. "You're late."
A bitter laugh bubbles from his chest, and you swear you see his eyes wet with tears for a split second before he blinks them away. "Yeah, sorry about that. Got a little held up."
As his hand brushes your face, checking for injury, you see his expression falter. You see it in his eyes, the realization and understanding of the truth.
Something is wrong.
You want to tell him not to look at you like that, but your voice doesn't want to work anymore. Your chest feels heavy, every breath sharp and foreign.
"Leon," you manage out, "it's okay."
He shakes his head, standing abruptly. "Don't. Don't say that."
But you can see the guilt already sinking in, the same way it always did when Leon realized he couldn't save everyone no matter how hard he tried. The illusion of control shattering.
He's trying to save you, but you're already gone.
You don't remember the exact moment your heart began to slow, only that the world began to quiet. The air had softened somehow, as though the chaos had finally grown tired.
You watch Leon's face, the panic, the denial, the anger. You want desperately to reach up and tell him that he's done enough, that it's not his fault, that he should stop fighting it for once.
But your fingers don't want to listen, only twitching at your side. You blink slowly, a shaky sigh leaving your lips. Leon's saying something, you can feel the vibrations of his voice, but you can't make out the words anymore. Everything's soft, muffled, and slowly fading.
So you just look at him one last time, the man who carried too many ghosts, who gives everything to keep one more person alive. The man who taught you that sometimes love isn't about saving someone, but sometimes it's just about being there until the end.
And in that moment, you realized what the illusion of choice really meant.
It's not about survival, right or wrong, or who makes it out alive. It's about the cruel truth that no matter how much you fight against it, the world will decide things for you.
Your last thought before everything went still is Leon's face. The way his eyes searched yours, desperate and afraid, full of love he never got to say aloud.
You wanted to tell him it's okay. That you aren't angry.
You wanted to tell him you're grateful he stayed until the end.
But you didn't get the chance.
~
The rain kept falling long after your heartbeat had stopped. Somewhere, far in the distance, an explosion echoed. The cult was gone. The president's daughter was saved. The mission was over.
Leon sat on the jet ski, Ashley's arms around his waist for leverage as they rode off towards land, the morning sun peeking over the horizon. He doesn't look back once. He couldn't.
Zayne always kissed you like he was a starved man. His serious facade would crumble and he’d hold you like you were delicate porcelain, his lips on yours, tasting faintly of sweets.
And today is no different.
Your back is pressed against the front door, Zayne caging you against the wood with one hand circled around your waist and the other cupping your cheek as he kissed you.
You had been gone for a couple weeks, just on some work trip, and had decided to surprise Zayne at the hospital since you had gotten home two days early.
“I missed you.” He mumbled against your lips, his hand snaking up your back to press you flush against him. He moves from your lips to your jaw, then on your chin and moving up to the tip of your nose and then softly against your forehead.
You giggle, his lips tickling your face. “I’m here now. And I have the week off!” A faint smile tugs at the corner of Zayne’s mouth and he leans in, pressing you a little firmer against the door, his voice a low murmur against your lips.
“I don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon.” You melt into him at his words, fingers finding his jacket collar and bringing his lips to yours again. Your unpacked suitcase was left discarded, but it didn’t matter.
All that mattered was him. Home.
And Zayne, smiling against your lips, whispered again, “Welcome home.”
~
By the time Zayne finally peeled himself off of you, both of you were breathless, faces slightly flushed and still clinging onto each other like you had been separated for months instead of a couple weeks.
“I had planned a whole airport reunion, y’know.” You tease, nudging his chest as he guides you towards the living room. “Tears and everything.”
“You just showed up in my hospital hallway.” He replies, his hand finding the small of your back again like he physically couldn’t be not touching you. “I nearly forgot about my last patient.”
You laugh. “It was so worth it though.”
“Absolutely.”
Your apartment was just how you left it, neat and quiet with only the side-table lamps on. One of the living room windows are cracked open, letting in a refreshing breeze and the soft noise of Linkon City. A few unread messages flash on your computer monitor, and your shared blanket is still draped over the back of the couch like Zayne had never moved it.
He didn’t, you bet.
You barely made it halfway to the bedroom before Zayne stopped you again. This time in the hallway, it wasn’t a kiss, but his arms circled around your waist in a tight hug, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His breath slowed as he hugged you, and you could feel some of the tension leave his shoulders.
“You okay?”
He nods, but doesn’t let go. “I couldn’t sleep well while you were gone.”
Your heart ached at his words. “Zayne…”
“I kept reaching out for you every night.” He continues, his voice soft. “I even caught myself sleep talking with your pillow.” His voice falls off at the end of his sentence, and his ears flush red in embarrassment.
You laugh. “Wow, should I be jealous of my pillow?”
“Mmm. I missed your sarcasm too.”
~
Eventually, you change into some comfier clothes while Zayne makes you both tea, the special blend he always pulled out when either of you were tired, overworked, or just needed some comfort. The scent of honey and lavender filled the kitchen, making you feel warm inside as you walk in.
He turns around, two mugs in hand and his hair a little messy from your fingers. His gaze softens when he sees you, like he still couldn’t quite believe that you were back.
“You look sleepy,” you comment as he hands you your mug.
“I am,” he admits, taking a sip of his tea before putting it down, taking a step forward and resting his chin atop of your head. “But I’m afraid if I close my eyes you’ll disappear.”
You lean against him, a soft smile settling on your lips. “Then I guess I’ll have to stay right here.”
~
You end up curled up together on the couch, blanket draped over you both, one of Zayne’s arms around your waist and the other draped over your legs. Your mugs sit half-full on the coffee table, the TV playing something in the background that neither of you are paying attention to. His thumb traces idle circles on your wrist, his chest rising and falling steadily under your cheek.
“Two days early…” Zayne murmured. “You really couldn’t wait to come home?”
“Not for a second.” You say with a smile, looking up at him. “Could you?”
His lips curl into a half smile, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Not even for a heartbeat.”
~ flufftober day 15: "this looks fun." "not the word I'd use but okay."
pairing: sylus x reader
a/n: since you guys absolutely eat up my sylus fics heres another one (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) also apologies for the small break, but I'm back!!
You're a bit unsure how you landed yourself in this situation.
Well, you had a bit of an idea, one that involved your pseudo mafia boyfriend, Sylus.
The evening air had been cool and calm when Sylus had suggested the walk. "Come on, it's a beautiful night," he had said with his signature smirk. You should have known better. Somehow, you always end up in strange situations when he's involved.
Now, tangled in a mess on vines and brambles, to say you were less than thrilled was an understatement. You glare up at Sylus, who's crouching beside you, trying not to laugh. "You look like you're having fun," he says with an amused smirk.
You groan, attempting to brush the dirt from your clothes. "Fun isn't the word I'd use, but okay. Remind me never to come 'hiking' with you again."
You had sustained some scratches but were overall unharmed, other than your jacket that had taken quite the beating when you had lost your footing. What annoys you the most is the chill creeping into your bones. You just want to be at home, curled up in bed with a warm blanket and a cup of tea. Instead, you're stuck in the middle of a forest clearing, caught in something that feels more like a trap than an adventure.
"Come on, don't be a poorsport," Sylus says, eyes sparkling with amusement and something warmer. Concern, maybe?
"I'm not a poorsport." You grumble, tugging at the vines. They tighten in response, almost as if they're enjoying your struggle. "I'm just cold and tired. I wanted to be in bed hours ago."
"Yeah, but you're here now." He gives a sly grin. "Maybe you'll enjoy the story later.
Narrowing your eyes, you scoff. "Only if I make it out in one piece."
Sylus chuckles and pulls a small knife from his pocket, expertly slicing through the vines. "Relax, I've got you."
The vines snap back, releasing their hold and you're finally able to stand, brushing leaves from your hair. You stare at Sylus with a mix of gratitude and exasperation. "Why did you bring me out here anyway? You know I'm not exactly built for wild expeditions."
Sylus shrugs, still smiling like this was the best joke ever. "I thought you needed a break. Some fresh air, a little danger..."
"Danger?" You laugh bitterly. "If by danger you mean nearly getting strangled by aggressive plant life, then yeah, nailed it."
He extends a hand, helping you steady yourself on the uneven ground. "Alright, so maybe it didn't go exactly as planned. But look, the stars are out, the air is fresh, and we're in the middle of nowhere. That's got to count for something."
You sigh, letting him lead you back towards the path, his hand warm in yours. "You're impossible."
Sylus grins, his eyes almost sparkling in the moonlight. "Yet you're still talking to me."
You roll your eyes, pulling your hand from his and crossing your arms, walking a bit faster so you're a few paces ahead of him. "Only cause you promised to get me home in one piece."
You hear him chuckle behind you, and he easily catches up to you, grabbing your hand again. As the two of you walk side by side through the quiet woods, you fight back the small smile tugging at your lips. Maybe this is fun. Just a little.
Standing at the stovetop, you're cooking dinner for Caleb's arrival home tonight. He's been gone for 2 months now, and to say you missed him was an understatement. It feels like it's been an eternity since you last saw him.
You hum quietly to yourself, stirring the food on the pan when you hear the front door open. Your head perks up, a smile appearing on your face. You hear Caleb's footsteps in the entryway before coming into the kitchen, his arms circling around your waist and his head resting on your shoulder.
"Pipsqueak... I missed you." He mumbles out. "Come to bed."
"Caleb, I'm cooking right now, aren't you hungry?" You put the spatula down, and Caleb shakes his head.
"I just want you right now." He says, reaching over and shutting off the stovetop, putting a lid over the half-finished meal you were making. Grabbing your waist, he hoists you over his shoulder, carrying you to the bedroom and plopping you down on the bed.
He pulls you against him as he lies down, burying his head in your neck and pressing small kisses against your skin. You rest your chin on top of his head, and he hums contentedly.
"How was your mission?"
"The same as usual. But I don't want to talk about that. I've had enough work stuff for a while. I want to talk about you." He murmurs softly, hugging you tighter. "Did 'ya miss me?"
You giggle at his comment. "Of course I did, Caleb. It was so lonely here without you."
Caleb shifts, just enough to look up at you with those warm, storm-colored eyes, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. His fingers trace lazy circles along your waist, grounding himself in the feeling of you after being away for so long.
"I kept thinking about you every night," he admits, voice quiet. "Wondering if you were sleeping okay... if you were still using my side of the bed like I asked."
You smirk, brushing a hand through his tousled hair. "I did. It still doesn’t feel the same, though. The bed's too big without you in it."
He chuckles, low and soft. "Guess I’ll have to make up for lost time, huh?"
You feel the vibration of his laugh against your chest, and your heart squeezes. Being cuddled up with him like this, it makes the last two months of waiting feel worth it.
"You don’t have to go again soon, right?" you ask, trying to keep the hope from your voice.
He shakes his head slowly. "Not for a while. I'm home now. For real."
The words settle over you like a blanket, warm and comforting. You pull him even closer, if that’s possible, and close your eyes, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing lull you into peace.
Your feet pound against the gravel as you sprint through the village, the sounds of gunshots echoing behind you. Swerving under the grotesque villagers that swing at you, you’re grateful that they're slow enough for you to outrun.
Making sure none of them are following you, you duck into one of the crumbling houses, crawling under a table and pulling your knees to your chest, shutting your eyes and putting your hands over your ears.
Maybe… maybe if I close my eyes for long enough this’ll all just be a bad dream.
You can hear your heart hammering in your ears, and you try to slow your breathing, but you can’t get the image of those mangled villagers out of your head.
It’s the virus… just the virus…
A hand on your shoulder startles you to the point where you let out a scream, and a gloved hand comes to press over your mouth to silence you. Panicked for a moment before familiarity sets in, you recognize the man in front of you.
"It's just me, you're okay." Leon's voice calms your racing heart, and he helps you up from under the table. You're still frightened, jumping at every creak of the small cabin you're in. Leon's strong arms around you ground you to the present, and he rubs small circles on your back.
"I got you." He says calmly, and he helps you breathe, in and out, so you don't hyperventilate.
"Are they gone?" Your voice is smaller than you'd like, and you glance nervously to the door.
"Mostly. There are still a few of them wandering about but I managed to get here without being spotted. If you want we can stay here for a bit to rest up?" You nod, and Leon helps you over to sit on a bench on the far side of the room, far enough from the door that it calms your panic just a bit.
"We shouldn't stay put for too long, we need to keep moving." He says, sitting next to you. You find yourself shifting closer to him until your shoulders are touching, as if you could just melt into his side and be sheltered from any danger.
He glances down at you, seeing your hands trembling in your lap as you keep watching the door, body tense like you're ready to bolt at the slightest noise. Hesitant at first, he moves his arm around your shoulders, holding you against him. When he feels your body relax slightly, his hold becomes a bit more firm.
"Hey, look at me." You look up, and Leon's expression softens when he sees the fear in your eyes.
"I won't let anything happen to you. I promise." His voice is steady, and he gives your shoulder a squeeze. You nod, looking down at your hands.
"I just want to go home." You squeak out, tears blurring your vision. "What happened to these people," you start, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, "It's not fair. I wish we could help them."
Leon sighs, understanding the feeling too well. These innocent people, controlled under Saddler's cruel actions... there's a part of him that wishes he could save them too. But he also knows that it's not possible to save everyone.
"I get it, I do." He says quietly, letting out a small sigh. "I wish we could help them too. But we need to just focus on getting ourselves out of here. There are some people we can't save." A silence falls between the two of you, the implications of Leon's words setting in. Deep down, you know that these people are beyond saving, but there's still the guilt knowing that they don't even get a second chance.
Eventually, Leon stands, offering his hand to you. "Let's keep moving. Stay close, okay?" You take his hand, letting him lead you out of the house, double checking that it's safe before you both start down the path that will eventually lead you to the Castle.
Leon's grip is firm, not enough to hurt but enough to let you know that he's there; that he won't let anything touch you. And while you still feel the fear of not knowing what's coming, you know that as long as Leon's by your side, you don't have to worry about anything.
You finally finish loading the last of your boxes into the back of Sylus' car, and you toss your duffel bag carrying your smaller belongings into the backseat.
"I didn't think it would be possible for one person to have that much stuff." You turn when you hear speak Sylus behind you, walking out of the apartment building and tossing you your keys. You roll your eyes at his comment, pocketing the keys to return to the landlord later.
"As if the plethora of stuff at your place doesn't amount to at least ten people's worth of things." You quip back, and he chuckles.
"The difference is that I'm not moving, Kitten." He stands at the drivers side door of his car, nodding his head towards the landlords office. "Go drop those keys off. We don't want to keep Luke and Kieran waiting any longer. They've been excited for your move since we told them about it."
~
After sorting out the keys and some extra paperwork you had forgotten about, you’re free of your apartment. You’ll miss it, yes, but you’re equally as excited to finally be living with Sylus.
You’re sitting in the passenger seat as he drives the two of you to the N109 zone, one of his hands on the wheel and the other on your thigh.
“Are you sure this is okay?” You ask quietly, turning your gaze from the window over to Sylus. He glances at you for a second before his eyes move back to the road.
“Is what okay?” He replies, a bit confused.
You lean against the headrest, a small sigh leaving your lips. All of a sudden, you’re overthinking the whole move.
“Me coming to live with you. I know you’re busy, doing whatever shady stuff you’re up to all the time, and I don’t want to intrude or get in your way.” You express, eyes watching as the sign signalling your entrance to the N109 zone passes by the car.
Sylus gives your thigh a light squeeze. “Of course it’s okay, sweetheart. It’s more than okay.”
"You mean that?"
"I do." Sylus takes his eyes off the road to look at you once more, flashing you his signature smirk. "It'll be a lot more lively at home with you there." He looks back ahead, and you notice his ears are a bit red. "Plus, it means that I can be with you every day, and come home to you."
You picture it for a moment in your head. Sylus coming home after a long day (or night, with how his schedule is), crawling into bed and pulling you into his arms, burying his face in your neck and mumbling how much he missed you against your skin. You loved seeing the soft side of him and the thought makes you grin, your cheeks pink.
Also, you could steal his clothes all the time. There was something about his shirts that were so much more comfortable than yours.
You look away, a bit embarrassed, and Sylus chuckles.
"No need to be shy, sweetheart. I can practically see what you're thinking." He says, pulling into the driveway of his house. You shove his shoulder, grumbling to yourself, but you don't deny anything.
You both get out of the car and Sylus is immediately by your side, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him. He rests his forehead against yours, squeezing your hips.
"I'm really happy you decided to come and live here with me." He murmurs, and you shake your head with a smile.
"How could I deny an invite? It's not every day you get to live in a ginormous house like this. And you're tolerable, I suppose." You tease, causing Sylus to laugh. He picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, causing you to yelp and smack his back playfully, to which he doesn't even flinch.
"We'll unpack your stuff later. Since you want to be cheeky, I'll show you a proper welcome party."
The storm outside had no plans of letting up. Rain drums against the windows of the abandoned house you and Leon had found on the outskirts of town. The power was long gone, leaving only the soft glow of your flashlight and the occasional flash of thunder to illuminate the dusty space.
You pull your damp jacket tighter around yourself and glance over at Leon, who's sitting across from you with his back against the wall. His hair is still wet, strands falling over his forehead, but his expression remains calm like always.
"Didn't think we'd end up squatting in a ghost house during this mission," you say with a light chuckle, trying to break the silence.
Leon smirks, shaking his head. "It could've been worse. At least it's dry in here." He pauses, glancing around as a droplet of water hits his shoulder. "Well, mostly."
You lean back against the wall with a small smile, feeling the ache in your shoulders from the chaotic events of today. Being an agent, you were trained for pretty much everything, but there were still some things that shook you up.
"How do you do it?" You ask quietly. "Stay so calm, I mean. Even when everything starts falling apart."
Leon looks at you, and you notice that his blue eyes seem to be a bit softer than usual. "I'm not always calm. I've just learned how to fake it."
You raise a brow. "Seriously?"
He nods. "I used to panic a lot. Back in Raccoon City? I was just a rookie. It was my first day on the job and everything went to hell." He gives a dry laugh, pushing down the memories beginning to surface. "After that, you either learn how to deal with the chaos or it eats you alive."
You let the silence between the two of you linger for a moment, the distant roll of thunder and the incessant patter of rain filling the space between you.
"I'm glad you're here," you confess, hands finding the gun sitting on the floor next to you and you check the magazine with a click. "I probably wouldn't have made it through today without you."
Leon's gaze lingers on you for a moment too long, then he looks down, fingers idly toying with the edge of his glove. "You're stronger than you think. I've seen the way you handle yourself out there. You don't give yourself enough credit."
You offer him a tired smile. "Coming from you, that means something."
He meets your gaze again and for a moment the air feels heavier. Not from the rain, but something unspoken between the two of you.
"Do you ever think about what you'd be doing if this wasn't your life?" You ask quietly, voice barely a whisper.
"All the time." Leon replies with a small sigh. "I used to think I wanted a quiet life. Maybe a small apartment, a dog, a normal job... but now? I don't know if I'd fit into that kind of world anymore."
You nod, understanding too well. You've been going on missions with Leon for a while now, and as much as you wanted to say that anything was possible, you knew that both of you weren't meant to have lives like that anymore. The normal world almost felt too far away after everything you had seen and been through.
"But," he adds, glancing away and his voice dipping lower, more vulnerable. "It's moments like these that make it seem a bit more possible. Talking to you. Sharing a sort of... peace. Well, as much as we can I suppose."
Your heart skips a beat at his words. He looks at you then, soft and honest, and so different from the Leon Kennedy you always saw. It reminds you of the times when he was just a rookie, an excited cop on his first day with eyes full of hope.
"Maybe when this is all over," you say, offering him a small smile, "we can find that quiet life. Even if it's just for a little while."
Leon smiles, and for a brief moment you see that flicker of hope return to his blue eyes.
Your phone began vibrating on your nightstand at 4:47am. You had ignored it at first, but after it kept buzzing for at least 10 minutes, you give up, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you grab your phone.
Rafayel's name flashes on the screen, and with a sigh you press the 'accept call' button.
"Miss bodyguard~" Rafayel coos over the phone, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, stifling a yawn.
"Are you dying? Bleeding out? On fire? Rafayel, it's 5 in the morning." You say, voice heavy with sleep.
"Aw, I'm not allowed to call you just cause I want to?" Rafayel says with a chuckle. "I can't sleep, and since it'll be morning soon, I thought 'what better time than now to go on a walk?'"
You blink and sit up. "You want to go outside? Right now?"
"I need a sunrise," he said. "For inspiration, of course. I'll see you at my place in 10, cutie~"
He doesn't wait for confirmation before the line goes dead. Typical.
~
By 5:30am, you're walking down the shoreline with Rafayel, just as the first bits of sun begin to peek over the horizon. There was only the sound of the waves and the sand crunching under your shoes as the two of you walked side by side, breathing in the ocean air.
Rafayel strolls with his hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly back as he gazes at the horizon as if he's painting it himself. His hair catches the early light, casting gold over his features and making him look almost ethereal.
"You know," you say, keeping an eye on your surroundings, "most people wait until a reasonable hour before chasing 'inspiration.'"
"Reasonable hours are for reasonable people." He says lightly. "I'm an artist."
You give him a sidelong glance, unamused. "Why'd I have to come if you're just going for a walk? There doesn't seem to be much danger out here."
Rafayel grins, unfazed. "You're my bail so Thomas isn't on my back about getting enough sleep."
"He's right, though," you mutter under your breath with a sigh.
Rafayel stops, watching as the sun begins to rise over the mountains and a smile settles on his face, his gaze distant.
"I don’t like the silence in my studio," he confesses. "It’s too clean. But out here… this silence has texture."
You study him for a moment, a confused look on your face. "Is that why you really called me? To talk about textured silence?"
"No," he admits, turning to glance at you. "I just didn’t want to be alone."
You look away, suddenly aware of how quiet it truly was, the sound of the rushing waves the only thing breaking the silence between the two of you.
Rafayel laughs at your reaction. "I could've said that better," he says, taking a step closer to you, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear that had come loose in the morning breeze. "I guess... maybe I wanted to watch the sunrise with you."
You look up at him with a smile. "Next time, maybe text me the night before."
"No promises."
He turns back around, lifting his hands to mimic a camera lens and peering through at the rising sun. You stand beside him, observing, your posture a bit more relaxed.
"Thanks for being here though. Even if it is early." He says, his voice quiet, almost as if he was a bit shy saying that out loud.
You chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest and moving your gaze to the horizon. "Someone's gotta keep you alive until you finish your next painting."
He laughs at your comment, but deep down you both know it's not just about paintings anymore.
Three days had passed since Zayne last felt your warmth. It was only a distant memory, and he found himself unable to sleep without being reminded of your touch and the warmth of your skin against his.
He stands outside, snow collecting on his shoulders as his eyes were downcast, blinking back tears. He knew that things shouldn't have ended this way. It should have been him who was gone.
But instead, he had lost the thing most precious to him.
"You had always liked the snow." His voice is quiet as he speaks, yet it's raw with emotion and unspoken words he wishes you could hear.
"Remember when we exchanged vows at the Stone of Destiny?" His hands ball into fists at his sides. "You had promised to always be by my side."
"Why did you have to leave?"
"I keep hearing your voice." His throat tightens. "I know it’s not real, but I hear you. Every time I close my eyes."
He kneels slowly, like the world might shatter around him if he moves too quickly. His hand presses down into the snow, and he doesn't even feel the cold tingling his fingers.
"It wasn't supposed to be you. I would’ve taken your place without hesitation. You knew that. You knew."
A gust of wind sweeps past him. It carries nothing but the chill and the unbearable emptiness now that you aren't with him.
His voice begins to crack. "You said that you wanted to plant trees in the Temple Grove. That it could be a garden again." His fist clenches in the snow, the soft white powder spilling through his fingers.
"You would’ve made it beautiful."
He laughs once, the sound sharp and hollow.
"I still remember how your hand felt in mine," he murmurs. "The way you always stood a little too close, like you couldn’t help it. Like being near me made you feel safe."
His voice breaks. "But I wasn’t safe, was I? I was the reason you had to choose."
He looks over at the land, and in his minds eye he can see the two of you, the adventures you had gone on, the places you had travelled, the things you had done together.
"If the gods ask me what I remember of you…"
He looks up at the sky, where the snow falls gentle and uncaring.
"I'll say everything."
But the world gives no answer. Just cold, and silence.
You didn't mean to get tipsy. It was just supposed to be a few drinks with your friends after a long work day. But then Tara kept refilling your glass and your stomach was full of too much laughter and not enough food.
Now here you were, leaning against the stall door in the bathroom, the room spinning a bit too much for your liking.
"Zayneeee," you slur into your phone. "I may have... made a slight error in judgement."
There's a pause, then his familiar sigh comes through the speaker. "Where are you?"
~
Fifteen minutes later, you stumble out to Zayne's car that had pulled in front of the restaurant. He gets out without a word, opening the passenger door for you like always, grabbing your purse and helping you inside with gentle hands.
"You're mad," you mumble, sliding in.
"I'm not mad," he replies coolly, buckling your seatbelt for you. "I'm concerned. There’s a difference."
You make a face as he pulls out of the parking lot, your gaze shifting to look out the window. "Same cold tone, though."
~
Your apartment is warm compared to the chilly night air, the lights dimmed just like you had left them.
"You didn't have to come." You slur out as Zayne holds you steady against him, helping you inside and leading you to your bedroom.
"You called." He replies simply, digging through your drawers and grabbing a pair of clean pajamas and placing them in your lap. "I can't just leave you here alone. Now go change." He says, leaving the bedroom for a moment.
When you're done changing, you try and head into the living room where you assume Zayne is waiting, but he appears in the doorway when you open your bedroom door, glass of water in hand.
"Here. Stay hydrated. Go sit down in bed." His hand finds the small of your back, leading you over to your bed and making sure you're seated comfortably before going to your vanity and grabbing some micellar water and cotton pads.
"Wait... you know my skincare routine?" You mumble out, gulping down some water.
"I pay attention." Zayne sits next to you and you almost immediately climb into his lap, straddling his hips as you face him. You feel him freeze under you, but he lets out a small exhale and starts to wipe off your makeup, his touch gentle.
He makes sure your skin is clean with precision, a silence falling between the two of you. A pout forms on your lips, and before you knew it, the words were spilling from your lips.
"You're too cold." You say simply, and the cotton pad on your cheek freezes.
"... What do you mean?"
Now that you've started, the words just keep coming, and you don't even notice the tears starting to roll down your cheeks.
"You take such good care of me and you're always there for me, but you still feel so distant. Like you're staying just far enough away to make me feel like you're just looking after me because you have to. Sometimes I wonder if you even want anything to do with me because-"
Zayne cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away your tears.
"I'm sorry..." He says quietly, resting his forehead against yours, his free arm circling around your waist and pulling you closer.
"I am afraid," he says after a long moment. "You matter more to me than I know how to handle. And if I let that show… if I let you in too much, I don't know if I could stand to lose you."
Your breath catches in your throat. You don't know if it's the alcohol or if it's Zayne's words, but your heart clenches in your chest.
"I act like I’ve got it all together," he continues, voice low, "but you undo me. Every time. And if I seem cold, it's only because I don't know how to show you just how much you mean to me without falling apart."
You aren't sure what to say. It feels like all the words have been sucked out of you from how vulnerable Zayne is being.
"Zayne..." His lips are on yours again before you can say anything further, and he pulls you down onto your bed. When he breaks the kiss, your eyes are already fluttering shut as you curl against his chest.
"Don't go..." You murmur out before sleep finally overtakes you, and Zayne smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.
You stare at the black-feathered menace perched atop your kitchen counter, stepping forward slowly as if moving to quickly would scare it away.
"Mephisto, please. That's my third favorite mug." You say carefully, inching closer.
The crow blinks, tilts his head, and promptly nudges the mug off the edge of the counter, sending it shattering to the floor. Letting out a breath, you pinch the bridge of your nose.
"Right. Of course. Why would I try to reason with you?" This has been going on ever since Sylus had dropped him off two days ago.
"Just a quick mission," Sylus had said. "Mephisto likes you. Be good to him."
Liked you, huh. That was laughable. So far, Mephisto had knocked over two (now three) of your mugs, dive bombed your breakfast, dug up some of your plants, and had learned to mimic your annoyed sigh with a scary amount of accuracy.
As if on cue, an "ughhhh" comes from atop the fridge, and you look up to see Mephisto staring down at you. You were certain that if he could, he would be laughing at you.
Glaring up at him, you put your hands on your hips. "You're lucky you're cute."
A knock at the door draws your attention from the irritating bird, and when you open it you see Sylus standing in the doorframe, his hair slightly messy from the wind. He flashes you a smirk.
"I came back early." He says, arms crossed.
"Good." You deadpan, gesturing inside. "Take your demon bird." From inside, Mephisto caws in greeting, the happiest you've seen him the last couple days, and launches towards Sylus as he steps into your apartment. He lands with surprising accuracy and nuzzles against Sylus' jaw.
Sylus takes in the disaster that was now your apartment, and lets out a small sigh. "Looks like he was comfortable."
"He bullied me. I think he learned how to say 'loser' in crow. If that's even possible." You say, glaring daggers at the crow happily perched on his shoulder, shaking your head.
You head back to the kitchen, bending down to pick up the broken pieces of your mug, but Sylus moves first, crouching beside you.
"Sorry," he says, letting out a sigh, and you hear Mephisto caw from somewhere in the living room. "I didn't think he'd be this... energetic."
You let out a small laugh. "It's okay. He just missed you and took it out on me. Though he does owe me a new mug."
Sylus looks up at you, his gaze warm. "You handled it well."
"I survived," you correct him. "There's a difference."
Sylus chuckles at your comment, shaking his head. Mephisto flies in, landing between the two of you and ruffling his feathers, letting out a pleased caw.
"Y'know, I think he likes us together." You say, glancing down at the bird pacing between your legs.
Sylus pauses at your comment. "So do I." He says, his voice quieter this time. You look up at him and notice how close the two of you have gotten, and you can feel his knee brushing against your own.
Then Mephisto squawks, flapping his wings and flying straight into a lamp, causing it to hit the ground with a crash.
"... Still like us together?" You say dryly. Sylus takes your hand and helps you up, smiling down at you.
~ flufftober day 1: anniversary (totally not posting this on day 2)
pairing: xavier x reader
The patter of the rain outside on the windows was soothing, and the atmosphere inside was even more comforting. The lamp in the corner of the living room was flicked on, bathing the space in warm yellow light.
Xavier sits across from you cross-legged, the sleeves of his signature white hoodie rolled up to his elbows and a half-finished puzzle on the coffee table in front of him. His brows furrow in concentration, and you can't help but smile, standing in the kitchen doorway.
"Of all the things you could have picked for us to do on our anniversary," you start, laughing to yourself, "you picked a thousand piece puzzle."
He doesn't look up, but you can see the faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It's calming."
"It's frustrating."
"Same thing. Well, sometimes."
You laugh, padding over to sit next to him, two cups of tea in your hands. You pass one to him and he presses a kiss to your cheek in appreciation.
"You know," you say, bumping his shoulder with your own playfully, "most couples go out. Champagne, fancy food, dressing up, all of that stuff."
Xavier pauses at your words, looking up and meeting your gaze. "Do you want that?"
You tilt your head, pretending to think. "Maybe next year. This is nice."
He looks at you for a moment longer, fondness in his expression before he goes back to the puzzle, picking up a piece and sliding it into place. You lean your head on his shoulder, letting out a content sigh. He smells faintly of citrus and your shampoo, and something uniquely him. Something that over the past year has brought you so much comfort.
"I didn't think we'd get here." You murmur, watching as he continues to fiddle with puzzle pieces. "A whole year."
His movements stop at your words, and his voice was soft when he speaks. "Me neither."
The confession hangs heavy in the air for a few moments, both of you thinking back to when you had first met. You didn't push him to say more though, and neither did he, both of you knowing that if the other person needed to speak, they would.
Xavier broke the silence first, reaching out and taking your hand, threading your fingers through his. "It's not that I didn't want to," he adds, resting his head atop yours. "I just… didn’t know if I could. Be like this, with someone."
You give his hand a squeeze, looking up at him. "But you are."
"And you stayed." He says, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I always will."
There was a long moment of silence. It wasn't awkward, just full. It was full of everything he couldn't say but wanted you to know. Xavier didn't really do grand declarations, but his presence tonight, sitting barefoot in your living room, doing a puzzle in the middle of a storm, said more than a hundred love letters ever could.
As if he remembers something, Xavier sits up, reaching into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulling out a small black box.
"Here, for you." He says, and you take the box, a bit confused. Inside, nestled in black fabric, is a silver necklace with a soft yellow star charm. You stare at it for a long moment, gently touching it as if you were afraid it might break.
"Xavier... you didn't have to get me anything." You say.
"I wanted you to have something that reminded you of today. Of us." He takes the necklace out of the box carefully, reaching around you to gently put it on you. He then pulls you into his arms, burying his face into your neck and pressing a soft kiss against your skin.
"Happy anniversary." He murmurs.
You close your eyes and smile, hugging him tightly. "Happy anniversary, Xavier."
summary: after a restless night, you find yourself standing in front of the door to zayne's room.
pairing: zayne x reader
You shuffle quietly down the hallway, slippers padding softly against the floor as moonlight peeks through the half-closed blinds. Sleep had evaded you once again, and after tossing and turning for what felt like forever, you decided you wouldn't be able to sleep at this rate.
Plus, the last thing you wanted to be was alone, staring at the ceiling for another four hours.
You find yourself standing in front of a familiar door, knocking gently before slowly pushing it open. Zayne was sitting at his desk, his face illuminated only by the small lamp and the faint glow of his laptop. Papers and files were strewn about on his desk, and he had a pen in hand, tapping it against his chin.
His eyes raised when he heard you enter the room, and his serious expression softened.
"Can't sleep?" He asks, setting down his pen and standing from his chair. You shake your head, moving to sit down on his bed in the corner of the room, kicking off your slippers and pulling your knees to your chest.
"No. Too much on my mind. Can I stay with you?"
Zayne doesn't hesitate, his lips curling into a gentle smile. "Of course. You know you don't have to ask."
You fall back into his bed, a soft sigh leaving your lips. The soft sheets were comforting, but the space next to you still felt empty without him beside you. Glancing over, you see that he's gone back to his desk, typing something that you assume is important on his laptop, his brows furrowed in concentration.
"You're still working?"
He shrugs, eyes back on his screen. "I have a deadline. It’s not going to finish itself."
You sigh, dragging yourself out of bed and walking towards him. "You’ve been at this for hours. Just… come to bed. Please?"
Zayne chuckles, but his eyes softened when they met yours. "I’ll be done in a minute, just—"
You grab his arm before he can finish, giving him a little tug. "Nope. You’re coming to bed now."
He raises an eyebrow, and you can see the amusement in his gaze. "You really don’t give up, do you?" He says, but you stand your ground, giving his arm another tug and a pleading look.
There's a moment of hesitation before Zayne gives a small, resigned sigh. He pushes his chair back, stretching and pushing up his glasses. "Alright, alright," he mutters, letting you pull him over to the bed.
You give him a playful push, climbing back into the bed and patting the space next to you. "Don’t act like you don’t want to."
Zayne smiles, caught, and climbs in next to you. He pulls you against his chest, the warmth of his body finally letting you settle. His hands find their way under your shirt, teasing the soft skin of your hips as you snuggle closer, breathing in the familiar scent of him.
His fingers trace small circles on your back, soothing you but also causing goosebumps to break out over your skin. The silence between the two of you was comfortable, only with the sound of his breathing and the occasional rustle of the sheets. But as the minutes passed, you could feel the tension in the air beginning to shift.
You turn your head to look up at him, your voice barely a whisper when you speak. "Zayne…"
"Hm?" He doesn't open his eyes, but you can hear the curiosity in his voice.
You lean up a little, lips brushing his ear as you whisper, "I don’t want to sleep just yet."
His eyes finally open, meeting yours. His gaze is playful but sharp, as if he knows exactly where this is going. "What do you mean by that?"
You run your fingers down his chest slowly, letting your touch linger. "I think I need something else to help me sleep."
Zayne’s expression softens, but he holds back even as his hand finds its way to the small of your back, pulling you even closer. "You know you have work in the morning, right?" he murmurs, his voice low.
You pout, your lips pressing into his neck in an exaggerated show of disappointment. "You’re so boring. A little fun wouldn’t hurt."
He chuckles, reaching up to caress your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "We both know where that leads, and I’m not about to get you all worked up when we both need rest."
You lean closer, brushing your nose against his, pressing a feather-soft kiss to his lips, almost as if you were tempting him. You feel him smile, closing the distance between you further, his lips soft against yours. You hum into the kiss, pleased, and Zayne pulls back, kissing both corners of your mouth and once on your forehead.
"Better?" He asks quietly, and you notice how his ears are flushed pink. You let out a small sigh but can't hide your smile, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.
"I suppose. But you owe me later." You couldn't stay mad at him, not when he was holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world, his fingers idly tracing patterns on your hip.
Zayne chuckles softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."
You close your eyes, a contented sigh escaping your lips. His heartbeat was steady and comforting, and despite the little tension left in the air, you finally felt your body relax. Zayne’s arm tightens around you and you drift into a deep sleep, feeling safe in his embrace.
Tomorrow would come, with all its responsibilities. But for now, it was just you and him, and that was enough.
