Unbetitelt

this year, it starts extremely early. it’s only 7am when he wakes up, and you’re in front of him, holding a cake that from his point of view, looks like a normal cake. his eyes open and find yours, staring into his soul like you wanted to reach out and eat it.

“babe…?” he murmurs gravelly, rubbing one eye. your expression doesn’t shift, remaining uncannily firm and serious. “what’s going on?”

“it appears that today fifty years ago, you crawled your way out of your mother’s vagina. many humans celebrate this yearly occurrence,” stop. too many words for his still half asleep brain.

“what?” that’s literally all he can say, slowly sitting up, drowsy as hell and still seeing blurry from sleep. “what the hell did you just say?”

you step forward and extend the cake to hold it right into his face, though remaining careful to not let the flames on the candles touch his hair. it was a pretty cake from the side. was. because now that he can see the top, he can see a picture of your face stretched out comically, with a cursive text that read “blow me.”

leon can only sigh deeply, already exhausted and wanting to go back to sleep, and look up at you. “you know, people usually wait for the evening or at least after lunch before bringing the cake-“

“hush, white boy. blow me,” you firmly say. only now he notices that your accent has a thick british cadence to it.

leon’s mouth opens, then closes. he knows better than to question your antics and the names you call him. so he takes a deep breath in and then lets it out, blowing the candles. you look at him with a pleased expression, and put the candle away. “good job, white boy.”

leon rubs his face, fighting so hard to keep the smile off his face, because deep down he still loves you. even if you’re making him grow gray hair when he’s only fifty years old. “thank you, baby,” he sighs, and because he loves you so much, he leans forward and pecks your forehead. “what are the plans for the day?”

your expression softens slightly at his display of affection, but you know you can’t ruin this. so you stick to your weird and unnecessary firm behavior and pull out a fucking clipboard out of fucking nowhere.

“i made a schedule,” you announce.

“that’s great,” he comments. “read it to me.”

you flip the initial page and pick out a pen, crossing off the ‘blow candles’ that was written on top of it. then you tap thoughtfully on the second task.

“since you blew the candles, now i am going to blow you.”

“pause.” leon is horrified by how taken aback he is– he certainly wasn’t expecting that. “let’s- let’s just leave that for tonight, yeah?”

“we must stick to the schedule,” you press firmly.

“let’s ignore the schedule, alright baby? let’s just- uh, make this… normal,” he tentatively say.

you raise an eyebrow and out down the clipboard, eyeing him out suspiciously. “so your thoughts about me is that i’m not normal?”

leon sighs, rubbing his face again. “you’re… you’re perfect the way you are. but please, i only woke up and-“

“that’s right, white boy. say ‘please’ and keep begging for normalcy, white boy.”

“can you stop calling me white boy?”

“do you wish me to call you differently?” you ask. he just sits still, and in the back of his mind he knows that if you don’t call him that, something much worse could come out of your mouth.

“…whatever. call me whatever you please, sweetheart.”

“that sounds about right, white boy.”

he leans back against the headboard of the bed, crossing his arms and staring at you. you stare at him back. he raises an eyebrow. “so? what’s the rest of the schedule?”

“i will not continue until you let me blow you.”

“you are not going to suck my dick at 7am, baby.”

“release the kennedih to me, white boy. that’s an order.”

“shut the fuck up and let me go to sleep, and don’t wake me up until 10am,” he grunts, too tired for your antics, and slips back under the covers. “that’s an order.”

you wait for him to settle in, think that he’s finally safe under those blankets like you were the monster in the closet, and then slowly lay down behind him. your arm encircle his waist, and your lips find his ear.

“i’m gonna blow you, white b-“

“y/n.”

he's left to his imagination when the night is too dark and lonely, and his bed is too empty

it starts off chaste enough by palming the growing erection that strains the weave of his sweatpants, and he owes himself that at least

you're the first person who has been able to rouse his dick from the dead after a few years of a sever in his body-mind connection, whether it came from old age or the decades of being thrown against walls like an al dente noodle

yet he still mumbles and incoherent strain of deprecating admonishments as shoves his pants down his thighs and takes his rock-hard dick in his palm

it's you he pictures stroking his length with the soft hand that always come up to touch his bicep whenever the two of you are conversing

your entire being is so tangible in his mind that he can quite literally smell the sweet scent of your perfume in his nostrils as he inhales a sharp breath

he prays that the walls are thick enough to drown out the sound of your name, violently loud on his tongue, as he approaches his peak

After getting thrown into the world that is Resident Evil Requiem, you're forced to face the horrors with Leon. You and Leon dealt with Timothy, the ravenous, mutated, chunky zombie, and loads of blister heads that were waiting for you and Leon to show up outside of Victor Gideon's office. When Leon pulled the lever that was hidden inside a painting, more zombies mutated into blister heads, much to your dismay.

Out of the things you and Leon dealt with today, the blister heads are probably the worst things to come across because they swing their arms wildly until they land a hit on someone. Leon has yet to be injured, thankfully. Although you wouldn't mind if he gets a teeny bit injured because, you know, he breathes heavily and groans when he's injured, and that's music to your ears.

"Are you alright?" Leon asks, putting you back on the ground after killing the last blister head zombie while waiting for the secret door to open. He steadies you when you sway on your feet, still lightheaded from clinging to him while upside down.

You give Leon two thumbs up, nodding. "I'm perfectly fine, Leon. After all, you're the one who's dealing with the horrors while I'm the one holding onto you for dear life."

There were instances where you nearly slid off of Leon while he was running around, decapitating blister heads with his hatchet. Not going to lie, you could've sworn that you were going to meet your maker if you fell off of Leon during that time. But Leon made sure you didn't slip or fall, and you're grateful for that.

Leon chuckles. "I'm not dealing with the horrors alone, you know? I have you here with me, by my side at all times."

Even though Leon can manage all of the horrors while having you over his shoulders, clinging for dear life, you can't help but feel guilty that you can't do much to give him some kind of assistance. He's not only saving the world and Grace, but he's also protecting you from harm, even though you're not from his universe. He's doing all of this protecting, but who is protecting him? Certainly not you, because you don't have a weapon, nor do you know how to properly handle a gun.

Noticing the look on your face, Leon gently nudges you and tilts your head up. "Hey, what's wrong?" He asks softly, eyebrows furrowing with worry.

You shake your head, giving him a small smile. "It's nothing, Leon. Don't worry about it."

Leon gives you an exasperated look. "You can't say that when we've been through a lot together already."

You press your lips into a thin line, debating if you should tell him. The door is still sliding open—very slowly. You look around the office, bodies scattered around, brain matter splattered on the walls, the smell of rotting flesh and blood wafting in the air. Leon continues staring at you, trying to read every expression you make, no matter how big or small the reactions are.

"If and when you're ever in trouble, please rely on me for help too. I will do everything I can to help you, even if I'm bad at aiming." You say.

Leon blinks, completely caught off guard by what you said. Of course, his shock didn't last long. Leon chuckles, nodding. "If and when the time comes, you have my trust to protect me when I need it. But for now, it's my obligation to protect you from harm."

The door eventually slides open, so you and Leon walk further inside the strange hidden hallway that leads to an elevator. You two enter the elevator, and Leon presses the button, watching the door slide closed. The elevator ends up taking you and Leon to another secret office.

Leon walks further into the office and starts speaking into his intercom, "Pretty sure we found Victor's private office."

You follow behind Leon, eyes scanning the room that was tucked away from the rest of the building. Why would Victor need an office hidden inside another office that requires you to take an elevator to reach it?

"Nice work. Lock it up." You hear the woman on the other side of Leon's intercom say.

"Yes, ma'am," Leon replies, approaching the computer and starts typing in random passwords.

While Leon is locking up the computer by inputting random passwords, you bite the inside of your cheek. God. It's the way Leon says it. That got you biting your bottom lip. If you were in your bedroom right now, you would've been giggling and twirling your hair after hearing those words leave Leon's lips. Leon eventually locks the computer, allowing the person on the other side of Leon's intercom to chime in.

"Bingo. I have the IP address. Just give me a minute, and… I'm in." The woman on the other side of Leon's intercom says.

"Okay, hit me," Leon says, his eyes locked on the monitor in front of him.

You walk to the window, glancing outside to see how big Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center is. You squint, nearly pressing your face up against the window to get a better view, but the lights inside the room you're in are making it almost hard to see outside. After a while, you hear Leon sigh.

"Sherry, you're killing me."

You turn to look at Leon, who's still waiting for a response from Sherry. From where you're standing, you can't make out what she's saying to Leon. As she's speaking, images start appearing on the monitor in front of Leon. Leon sighs in defeat, his head hangs low.

"Well, fuck." Leon mutters.

Leon and Sherry sigh in defeat. Silence hangs in the air for a brief moment before Leon says, "Well, hey. At least we're in it together, right?"

You want to peek over at the monitor to get a look at what's causing Leon to have this reaction, but you stop yourself. You don't want to be invasive, and judging by his question, it's something he and Sherry are dealing with. You briefly look at the monitor, but you're not sure what you're looking at. The hands on the monitor have black blotches on them, and you're not sure what it is. But what you do know is that it looks exactly like the one on the hand of the deceased person at the beginning of Leon's segment of the game.

"I know what it looks like, but why can't I put my fingers on it?" You whisper to yourself, trying to rack through your brain. You know what it is, but you can't seem to remember the root cause of those black blotches. Your memory is foggy.

Leon leans closer to the monitor, muttering, "Alright. What've we got?"

More images start appearing on the monitor as you approach Leon, still trying to remember the conversation Leon had with Sherry over his intercom at the beginning of his segment in the game. You stare at the screen blankly, questioning why your memory feels off. Maybe it's from the lack of sleep that's making your memory fuzzy, right?

"Elpis?"

You blink and look over at Leon, then at the monitor. What is Elpis? At the bottom right of the monitor, Grace's photo suddenly appears. Leon's eyebrows furrow with confusion, as did yours.

"Grace? What's she got to do with this?"

On cue, you and Leon hear a helicopter outside the window. You and Leon trade looks before walking to the window to see what's happening outside. A helicopter spins out of control with numerous zombies clinging on for dear life, obscuring the view of whoever is inside the helicopter. The helicopter crashes into a building before ultimately landing on the ground, sliding towards the metal gate, forcing it to come to a complete stop.

Leon looks around and notices a nearby rifle. He walks towards the gun and grabs it, muttering under his breath, "Hello, gorgeous." Leon has you back away from the window before breaking the window with the butt of the gun, before looking into the scope.

You try to get a glimpse of what Leon's looking at, but whatever Leon is looking at, you can't see it at all. That is, until you see someone stumbling out from the helicopter—a blonde woman. She makes her way to the back of the helicopter and pulls out an unconscious blonde girl.

"Grace?" You whisper.

Flames erupt from where Grace and the little girl are, as zombies start pounding their fists against the metal gate, trying to get to where the two are. You look at Leon, unsure of what to do in this moment.

Leon sighs, "That girl just can't stay out of trouble."

Leon continues looking through the scope, shooting down the zombies pounding at the metal gate as Grace makes her way to a chapel with the little girl in her arms. After a few minutes, Leon looks at you. Before you know it, Leon grabs you by the waist and tosses you over his shoulders. You yelp and wrap your arms around his waist, vision spinning from the sudden movement.

"I hope you don't mind my manhandling you," Leon mutters. "We need to get moving."

You wave, knowing he doesn't see it. "You can manhandle me as many times as you like, Leon. In fact, I welcome it with open arms. Throw me around as many times as you need."

Leon chuckles before vaulting over the broken window. Your breath gets caught in your throat as Leon sprints across the rooftop of the care center. You cling to Leon for dear life, watching flames engulf the plane from which Grace and the little girl emerged.

The closer you and Leon get to the chapel, the more zombies start to appear from the woodwork. Leon puts you on the ground and starts shooting the zombies that are trying to lunge and attack Grace. You break the nearest wooden box, handing the rifle ammo to Leon while he reloads his weapon.

"Nothing ever dies here, huh." You grumble, watching the zombie closest to the chapel door come to life and stumble off the ground, trying to reach for Grace.

Before it can grab hold of Grace, Leon shoots it in the head, causing the head to explode and spray blood everywhere. You blink, glancing at Leon, who's busy shooting down other zombies that come into view. With a man like Leon around, you (among many other people) don't need to worry about a zombie attacking you.

"Never mind, it's dead. I spoke too soon."

Your comment earned a snort from Leon. You watch Grace break the doors down to the chapel, running into the building after Leon managed to kill every zombie in the surrounding area.

Leon puts away his gun and turns towards you. "Alright, we should head down towards the chapel."

"Right! How are we going to do that exactly?" You ask, searching for a way to get down from the second floor of the building.

"We slide down," Leon replies, as if it's the most obvious answer.

Leon slides one arm behind your knees and places his other arm across the middle of your back. He lifts you and presses you against his chest before hopping over the railing, sliding down from the rooftop before hopping off. You yelp, grabbing onto the front of his shirt with tight fists. Leon kicks the zombie, knocking it over before ultimately crushing its head with his feet.

"Excuse us," Leon mutters, walking to the chapel with you in his arms.

While making your way to the chapel, a few zombies got in the way, which resulted in Leon launching a red explosive canister at the two zombies with one arm while still carrying you with the other arm. The red explosive canister explodes upon impact, sending limbs and chunks of flesh and organs flying around.

You look at Leon, mouth agape as he shoots a zombie near the entrance of the chapel with one arm. "Carrying me with one arm while slaying zombies with the other? I think that's the hottest thing you've ever done since I arrived in your universe, Leon." You mutter.

"Oh, really? I thought you liked the manhandling. Or do you find it attractive when I was grunting while prying open numerous warped closets and doors? Or is it my biceps—"

You cover Leon's mouth. "Okay, okay, you don't need to list them all out, Leon. We can both agree that I find anything you do attractive." You huff, crossing your arms over your chest while heat rushes to your face.

At this point, you're not entirely sure if it's the fire that's making you feel all hot and bothered, or if it's Leon's awareness of you finding every single thing about him attractive? Then again, you make it known. Leon enters the chapel, puts you on the ground, and walks towards Grace and the unconscious little girl.

"Grace."

Grace looks up from the unconscious little girl. "Leon!" Grace says, a huge wave of relief falling over her. Grace makes eye contact with you for a brief moment before looking back at Leon, who kneels before the two of them.

"Who is she?"

Grace looks down at the girl, her hands covering the blood stain on the girl's white nightgown. "This is Emily. Help me! I-I can't stop the bleeding." Grace panics, feeling her sanity start slipping away with every passing minute.

"Hey, hey, look at me," Leon says, not taking his eyes off Grace. "We're gonna be okay. Yeah?" He reassures Grace.

You can't help but find the interaction between Grace and Leon sweet. To you, their dynamic reminds you of a father and daughter who were forced into an apocalyptic nightmare. However, this moment was ruined by the undead outside the chapel. You hear growling coming from the entrance of the chapel, causing the hairs on your arms to raise. You clear your throat awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck when both Leon and Grace look in your direction.

You point to the entrance behind you, "I hate to break this moment, but there are a good number of zombies heading our way, and one of them is huge with blisters all over its body."

Leon looks around and notices a door next to the altar. "That should be the way to the water treatment plant. It's our way out."

Leon picks up Emily and gestures for you and Grace to follow. As you four make your way to the door closest to the altar, a zombie shouts through the window when it sees the four of you, startling you and Grace.

"They just don't give up," Leon mutters. "Take her." Leon hands Emily to Grace before turning towards the window and shooting the zombie three times.

Grace runs off with Emily in her arms after Leon instructs her to get Emily somewhere safe. Leon shoots down a zombie that entered the chapel through the door, watching it collapse before he walks over to you. Your heart falls into the pit of your stomach when a blistered zombie stumbles through the chapel's door, its blisters pulsing with every movement. Leon tosses you over his shoulders, takes his gun out of the holster, and starts aiming for the yellow blister.

"I'm curious, why didn't you make me go with Grace and Emily?" You ask, clinging to Leon as he aims for the pulsating blister.

Leon reloads his shotgun, running up to the altar and up the stairs as the blister-borne zombie starts charging at the two of you. You grunt, holding onto him tightly as Leon ascends the stairs.

"I figured you wouldn't want to leave my side even if going with Grace is the safest option," Leon replies, breaking the wooden boxes to pick up shotgun shells and handgun ammo. "Aside from that, I like having my sidekick around." Leon lightly pats your lower back.

The zombies in the chapel start mutating into blister heads; their agonizing screams are almost muffled by the sounds of the raging flames engulfing the chapel. You groan, going limp in Leon's arms. From a distance, Leon aims for the blister heads as they're stumbling around, searching for their target. Leon pulls the trigger, and their head explodes, sending blood all over the place.

While Leon is distracted by zombies that are mutating into blister heads, the blister-borne zombie starts making its way up the stairs to where you and Leon are camping out. Your eyes widen, and you pat the back of Leon's thighs, watching the blister-borne getting closer to where you're at.

"Leon, Leon! The blister-borne zombie is making its way to where we're at!" You shriek.

Leon turns and shoots the blister-borne's pulsing blister, causing it to burst and spray all over the place. You feel something splatter on your face, making you groan with disgust as you wipe your face with the back of your hand. Leon reaches for the red explosive canister nearby and chucks it at the blister-borne.

"You trust me, yeah?" Leon shouts over the sound of crackling flames.

"I do! I trust you with my life, Leon!" You shout back. "Why?"

"Hang on tight," Leon replies.

You tighten your arms around Leon's waist, and suddenly, you and Leon are airborne. You squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself when you feel your stomach drop. Once Leon lands on the ground, Leon's shoulder digs into your stomach, knocking the air out of you. There's a huge explosion where the blister-borne was standing, causing the ceiling to collapse.

Leon quickly grabs the med injector and the hand grenade and puts them away on his person. This went on for the next five minutes with Leon dodging the blister head and blister-borne zombie, making sure you don't get hurt in the process. A zombie—the one that has yet to mutate into a blister head—nearby emerges with an axe in its hand. You try getting Leon's attention, but he's occupied with the blister-borne that he didn't hear you frantically calling out to him.

You don't want Leon to get hit by the axe, so you started searching around his body for a gun. He ignored it at first, but then your hands start getting a bit too close to his… area, so Leon has to look down to see what in the world you're up to. Listen, Leon is very aware that you're into him, but he didn't think you had the guts to explore his body while you're both fighting to survive.

"What are you—"

You cheer, "I got it!"

You successfully take Leon's spare gun out of the holster and start blasting away at the zombie with the red axe. The zombie jerks each time a bullet penetrates it before collapsing to the ground. You sigh in relief, relaxing over Leon's shoulders. Leon opens his mouth to say something, but the zombie that you killed starts contorting before its head mutates into a blister head. You stare at the blister head, mouth agape.

"I don't think this thing is powerful enough to take out a blister head." You mutter, checking to see how much ammo you have left in the handgun.

The blister head starts charging at you and Leon, arms swinging wildly. When it's close to where you and Leon are standing, Leon blasts its head off with his shotgun. The (now headless) blister head collapses to the ground in a pool of blood. You put the safety lock back on the handgun, trying to put the gun back into the holster.

Leon lightly pats your hand. "Hold that for now."

Leon doesn't want you to let your hands wander around his body when the blister-borne zombie is slowly coming out of shock. Not now, at least. Leon reloads his shotgun, stepping away from the altar and closer to the entrance of the chapel. The blister-borne roars with anger, charging at Leon while swinging its arms. Leon manages to dodge it, but its nails manage to scratch Leon's bicep, making him groan at the sharp pain.

"Hey! I was supposed to be the one to do that to Leon, not you!" You exclaim, taking the safety lock off the gun and aiming for the blister on its back.

You shoot, and the blister explodes, causing it to spray serum everywhere. The blister-borne zombie shrieks before collapsing. Leon looks around the building to make sure there aren't any zombies lingering nearby, and thankfully, the ones that Leon sees are all (hopefully) dead and headless. Leon puts you down, and you fix your clothes, putting the safety lock back on before handing the handgun back to Leon.

Leon props his hands on his hips, eyebrows raised. "What did you mean when you said that you were the one that's supposed to 'do that' to me? Are you implying you were supposed to be the one to injure me?"

You cross your arms over your chest with a huff. "Of course, not, Leon! What I meant was I was supposed to be the one to leave scratch marks on you, not the blister-borne zombie," You correct him. "Anyway, let's go find Grace and Emily."

You grab Leon's wrist and walk to where Grace and Emily escaped. Leon shakes his head, chuckling in disbelief as he lets you drag him to the door without complaint. You and Leon walk around, searching for the two blondes. As you're walking up the stairs, you come across a pile of melted goop. Your face pinches with disgust as you're walking around whatever that thing was supposed to be.

"They should be around here somewhere," Leon mutters.

You and Leon hear Grace screaming from a distance, and the two of you don't hesitate for a moment and run to where the screams are coming from. When you and Leon arrive on the scene, Grace is crawling back while a mutated creature swings its arms at her. Leon immediately starts firing at the creature, alerting Grace of your and Leon's presence.

Grace looks at Leon as he steps forward, eyes filled with tears and fear. "No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no! That's Emily! It's Emily!" Grace screams, grabs onto Leon's arm, and starts shaking him.

"I'm sorry," Leon mutters, not taking his eyes off the now mutated version of Emily.

Leon proceeds to shoot the grotesque version of Emily while she swings her arms, shrieking and screaming at Leon as bullets penetrate her body. Grace continues screaming at Leon, pleading for him to stop shooting the girl and to listen to her. Grace turns to you, tears running down her cheeks.

Grace grabs hold of your wrist, lightly shaking you. "Please, tell him to stop shooting Emily! He's not listening to me!"

"I don't think he'll listen to me either, but I'll give it a shot." You say, patting Grace's arm.

You walk to Leon, making sure you don't attract attention to yourself. You place your hand over Leon's massive biceps, gently shaking him (as if that would do anything). "Leon, listen to Grace. I don't think shooting Emily would do anything—"

For a second, Leon briefly stops shooting Emily. You didn't have time to sigh in relief when Emily lunges her arm at you, her sharp nails grazing your face. You yelp, feeling a sharp pain blooming at the bridge of your nose and the apples of your cheeks. Wait! Since when can you get injured? Is this the first time you've been injured since you arrived in this universe? Leon yanks you back before Emily can get her claws on you, continuing where he left off—shooting Emily.

Emily eventually falls to the ground, blood spewing from her wounds. Grace sobs, sprinting over to where Emily lies before falling to her knees, wrapping an arm over the mutated Emily's body.

Leon gently caresses your face, wiping the blood that's blooming from the cut on your nose and cheeks. "Are you alright?" Leon murmurs, pressing his gloved hand against the wound.

You nod. "I'm okay, Leon. I thought I was invincible to injuries—I don't know why I did—but apparently, I'm not." You wince when Leon tries to clean your cuts, grabbing his hand to stop him. "Leon, I'm okay! It's just a scratch."

"Well, I should've been the one to scratch you." Leon mumbles.

You do a double-take. "Whoa, hey! That's my job right there, mister. Unless you're implying back scratches."

Grace stares at you and Leon, appalled by how you and Leon can act so nonchalant after Leon shot and killed Emily a few seconds ago! At this point, the tears have dried up, and now she's looking at you and Leon (mainly Leon) with anger.

"I wanted to save her!" Grace shouts, grabbing Leon's attention.

Leon sighs, letting go of you and turning towards Grace's direction. "You don't understand, that's wh—"

"No! I never would have escaped without her. This is all my fault. Again!" Hot tears start rolling down her cheeks again, her chest heaving with each breath she takes.

Leon tries to comfort Grace, telling her that everyone involved is still alive (minus Emily, of course) and that everyone needs to keep going. Grace frowns, shaking her head before taking the requiem gun out and tossing it on the ground in front of Leon. Leon looks at Grace in disbelief, watching her walk away to who knows where. Leon kneels to pick up his gun, only to collapse and start coughing.

"Leon!" You gasp, running to his side. "Leon, are you okay?"

Leon coughs up blood, spitting out a glob of blood before wiping his mouth. You nearly spiral when you see Leon coughing and spitting up blood. Has Leon been hiding his illness from you this entire time? How long has he been sick? You wrap Leon's arms around your shoulders, helping him up from the ground. You and Leon eventually make it out of Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center, walking to where Leon parked his Porsche.

Leon opens the door to the passenger side, but you refuse to get in. At least, not until you get your answer. You examine Leon's face, eyes picking up on the littlest details of his face as he stares at you, confused. Leon doesn't look any different from when you first met him.

"You promise that you can continue going after Grace even though you were coughing up blood?" You ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

Leon nods. "I promise. Besides, if something happens to me, you promise to protect me," Leon smiles at you.

Despite the reassurance, you can't help but shake off the feeling of dread. Sooner or later, Leon's condition is going to get worse, and his life will be in your hands. Before getting into the car, you step forward and wrap your arms around Leon's waist. Leon wraps his arms around your shoulders, squeezing you tightly against him.

"If I'm going to be protecting you, you're going to need to teach me how to shoot and handle a gun properly," You mumble against Leon's chest.

Leon's chest rumbles with laughter. God, you nearly melt in his arms. "Of course, I'll teach you when we arrive in Raccoon City."

You eventually get into the passenger side of the car, and Leon closes the door once you get in. Once Leon gets into the driver's seat, closes the door, and puts his seat belt on, he starts talking to Sherry in his intercom after starting his car and leaving the premises. You buckle in and lean in your seat, watching the scenery go by.

You pull down the sun visor and lift up the cover of the mirror, looking at your reflection. The cut on your nose and the apples of your cheeks still hurt, but the pain is dull. How strange. You trace over the scratches, wincing when the wound stings under your touch. You don't know why you assumed you're immune to injuries despite being thrown into this universe.

You have no one to talk to about this, and even if you talked to Leon, he's just as clueless as you are. It wouldn't be too bad if you're stuck here forever, right? It's nearly identical to your universe, but the only difference is zombies roaming in some parts of the world, and the (once) fictional characters from a franchise that you love exist. And your family isn't in this universe.

You and Leon soon arrive at Raccoon City; the car comes to a complete stop. The city is nothing but ruins, cars abandoned on the side of the road, collecting dust and rusting. You hesitantly unbuckle your seat belt, mentally preparing for what's waiting for you and Leon once you step out of the car.

Leon sighs, turning off the engine of his car and unbuckling his seat belt. "Well, the road is gone," Leon mutters, turning to you as he gets out of the car. "Gonna have to find another way around."

"Alright, I'll leave that to you two." Sherry's voice crackles from Leon's intercom.

You get out of the car, shielding your eyes when the wind blows dust in your direction. Leon looks at his phone, still talking to Sherry over his intercom. Leon thanks Sherry for giving him the coordinates on Victor's computer before ending the call between them. Leon tucks his phone into his pocket, gesturing for you to follow him.

"Are you going to manhandle me again when we're dealing with zombies again?" You tease Leon, walking beside him as he searches around the vicinity.

Leon snorts. "That depends on what situation we're in. Do you want me to manhandle you that badly?" Leon raises his eyebrows at you.

You hold your hands up. "Hey, you said that there's plenty of time for you to manhandle me, and so far, I can picture many scenarios in which manhandling is required."

"Fair point."

Leon walks ahead of you with his DSO-issued gun, the requiem gun, in hand. Leon reaches behind him, grabbing hold of your hand so you two won't get separated. At least, that's the literal reason. In your head, you assume he wants to hold hands with you because he fell in love with you and your wit, and you guys are going to be happily married by the end of all of this!

You can't help but look at the ginormous gun in Leon's hands. It's probably bigger than your hand and forearm combined! You know it's a powerful gun, you've used it when you played as Leon in the first part of Leon's segment in the game before Leon was kidnapped by Victor Gideon. Would Leon let you try out the government-issued gun?

"Alright, what's brewing in that head of yours?" Leon's voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

You point at his gun. "Can I try it?"

Leon blinks at you, then glances at his gun. "Yes, but I do want to warn you that it packs a punch, and if you don't handle it properly, you can fly back from the recoil."

You and Leon stop walking, now standing in the middle of the road close to a shipping container. Now standing behind you, Leon hands you the massive revolver. You know the gun is heavy, but it's heavy. You look at the gun in awe at its design and size. It's certainly bigger than your hand and forearm combined. You glance at Leon's arms, comparing the gun to his massive arms that you crave to have around your neck.

"You see that zombie over there?" Leon murmurs into your ears.

God, he's so close that you can feel his body heat radiating off of him. You clench your jaw, nodding. Leon corrects your stance and how you're holding Requiem. Whatever Leon is explaining to you, it went in one ear and out the other.

Leon has you tighten your hand on the grip of the revolver. You aim for the zombie slowly coming into view. Good thing it hasn't spotted you and Leon yet. You take a deep breath, waiting for the right time to shoot the zombie. Your heart drums against your chest, making it nearly impossible to focus because you're too busy being aware of how close you and Leon are.

"Ready when you are." Leon chuckles, waiting for you to fire the first shot at the zombie.

You press down on the trigger, finally firing the first shot after a while. Instead of hitting the zombie, like you hoped it would, the bullet ends up hitting the structure behind it. The zombie's head jerks toward your and Leon's direction, limping its way towards you two. Other than attracting attention to you and Leon, you're relieved that the barrel of the gun didn't fly back and whack you in the face from the recoil.

"You could use some practice, but it's alright. Any unfortunate beings here will be your target to practice on," Leon replies, smoothly taking Requiem from your hands and effortlessly shooting the zombies that were making their way towards you two. "Well, once we get to our location, of course."

You and Leon proceed to explore the area, picking up some scraps, ammo, shotgun shells, and med injectors. You and Leon soon come across a revolving door that leads to who knows where. Leon pushes on the door, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Dammit. It's jammed," Leon muttered, turning to you. "This might be a two-person job."

Leon gestures for you to get in front of him. You bite your bottom lip and stand in front of him, pressing both of your hands against the metal slab. You and Leon start pushing against it, trying to get the revolving door to budge. Unfortunately for Leon, the door is barely moving despite the amount of force he's putting into it. Fortunately for you, though, Leon's massive arms are caging you to the door, and you're just hearing him grunting into your ears while his biceps are flexing with each push.

"Are you even pushing?" Leon grunts, peeking down at you.

"Honestly? I'm not, but I'll put in the effort now." You reply, finally putting some force into your shove.

Leon laughs, shaking his head. "You're absolutely shameless."

The door finally moves, and you and Leon manage to get to the other side of the door. You dust your hands, looking around with wide eyes. The entire area, from what you're seeing, is covered in spiderwebs. Some cars are dangling in the air by huge amounts of spiderwebs.

"Oh hell no…" You trail off, suddenly having the urge to return to Leon's car. "I didn't know that Spider-Man was in town! Maybe we should go back to the car since Spider-Man, apparently, has this all under control."

Just as you're about to walk past Leon back to where you two originally came from, Leon grabs you by the shoulders and shakes his head. "Listen, he may have stopped by in town, but what makes you think he has everything under control? If anything, things seem to have gotten out of hand on his part." Leon gestures to the spiderwebs.

You pout, letting Leon guide you past the spiderwebs and to who knows where next. You end up stepping on something, causing it to snap underneath your shoes. You and Leon stop and look down at what made the noise (it was a skull), only to hear something strange echoing. It's deep rumbling, almost like a purr, mixed with hissing. Both of you slowly look up to see a building-sized spider climbing down from its hiding spot.

"Oh, holy shit."

"Oh, hell no!"

The spider tries to stomp down on you and Leon, but the two of you manage to jump out of the way. Leon pulls out his hatchet and hits the spider's leg with the blade of his hatchet. Dark green liquid squirts from the wound, making the spider pull away with a shriek.

Leon backs away, staring up at the spider. "Oh, fuck," Leon mutters before grabbing onto your forearm and pulling you into the nearest abandoned building as the giant spider chases after you two.

You and Leon watch the spider struggle to fit through the door, trying to reach for you and Leon. The concrete above the doorframe begins to crack and crumble before collapsing onto the spider, trapping you and Leon in the vacant building. The spider shrieks and disappears, but you have an awful feeling that it'll show up again very soon.

You squeeze Leon's hands. "I knew Spider-Man was in town, but I didn't know his mom was keeping him company!"

Leon sharpens his hatchet before putting it away, pulling Requiem out from his holster. Leon breaks the nearest wooden box and picks up shotgun shells before storing them away. The more you and Leon walk further into the building, the more you see spiderwebs blocking the halls. Leon slashes the spiderweb with his hatchet as the giant spider speeds by the entrance at the end of the hall.

"There's an exit!" You sigh in relief, hoping to leave before the spider can make another surprise appearance.

You're about to take off, but Leon holds you back. "I wouldn't be too confident about that right now."

As if you and Leon summoned her, the spider busts through the walls, sending debris all over the place while you and Leon take cover. The spider roars with anger before chasing after you and Leon, forcing the two of you to run back to where it all began. There are instances where you have come close to death before, and this is certainly one of them. The spider somehow tossed you and Leon against the wall, sending you to another room.

It chases you and Leon throughout the building, on multiple floors, for about fifteen minutes. But it did not feel like fifteen minutes at all. You and Leon have jumped and dodged the spider multiple times, threw two red explosive canisters at it. What did the spider do? She spurted out babies and had them attack you and Leon.

Leon makes sure to aim for the bulging eggs on the spider's abdomen, causing it to jiggle with every shot. You make a face every time it bounces, and can't help but feel uncomfortable by it. Eventually, the chase comes to an end, and Leon successfully kills the spider! Only after it grabs you and Leon with its freakishly long fangs, pinning both of you against the wall as Leon hacks it with a hatchet repeatedly until it dies.

The spider crashes onto the ground, forcing the cement floors to collapse underneath its weight and landing in an abandoned subway. You immediately hop off the spider, shuddering and rubbing your arms. You wouldn't say that you're deathly afraid of spiders, but after this encounter, you certainly hate them even more than you already do.

"I missed that Raccoon City hospitality," Leon mutters, getting off the spider and wrapping his arm over your shoulders. "Let's get out of here."

"You don't have to tell me twice." You grumble, wrapping both your arms around his waist and making your way through the dark subway.

Leon turns on his flashlight, searching for an exit while you're holding onto him. You two explored around a little bit, hoping that certain doors would lead somewhere, but they're either locked or blocked off. The subway smells disgusting, and the longer you're in the subway, the more it's harder for you to be able to handle the smell.

You and Leon eventually come across a revolving door, but it's jammed like the previous revolving door you dealt with. Thank goodness the subway is mostly pitch black because Leon won't see that shit-eating grin on your face. He hands you the flashlight and has you standing between him and the jammed revolving door.

"Do you want me to help push, or just hold the flashlight?" You ask, peeking up at Leon in the dark.

Leon grabs the metal bars, putting pressure on them. "Hold the flashlight for now. If I need help, I'll let you know."

You cheer internally, but on the outside, you're cool, calm, and collected. Leon starts pushing against the revolving door, trying to get it to budge. Leon grunts, his face pinching up as he tries to force his way through the door. In the process of trying to get the door to move, his chest is pressing up against your back, almost pinning you to the metal door.

"Need help?" You squeak, trying not to pass out.

"Nah, I'm fine. You just continue to hold onto the flashlight for me," Leon murmurs.

After what felt like an eternity—God, you wish it was that long—Leon manages to get the revolving door to move and get you two to the other side of the subway. You hand the flashlight back to Leon, needing to collect your thoughts and ignore the burning pit in your stomach. Leon gently nudges you towards the entrance up ahead, his hand on your lower back as he guides you in the darkness with his flashlight as a source of light.

The metal door that leads to (hopefully) the outside happens to be warped closed. You nearly cry out in happiness. Even though you and Leon have been through hell and back in Raccoon City, the desolate city just keeps on blessing you in so many ways. Leon whips out his hatchet and starts prying the metal doors open. His massive biceps flex under that tight shirt of his; he grunts and continues prying the door open with the hatchet until it busts open.

Leon pushes the door open and turns to you as daylight pours into the once pitch-black subway, only to see you staring at him with an unreadable expression. You're biting down on your finger, still in a daze. Leon tilts his head, walking up to you slowly, eyebrows raised. You blink, letting your hands fall to your sides as you try to act like you're not about to jump his bones if this continues.

Standing in front of you, barely leaving any space between you two, Leon presses his hand against your forehead. "Are you alright? You seem a bit… out of it."

You smile, nodding. "I'm fine, Leon! I'm just… trying to process everything that has happened since we've arrived at Raccoon City, that's all." You lie.

Leon stares at you, taking in every detail of your face despite the darkness. The longer Leon stares at you, the hotter your face becomes. God, you really want to bite his massive biceps, but now is not the right time to be yearning for those biceps of his. Eventually, Leon leads you out of the subway, his hands on your lower back. Your heart thumps against your chest to the point where you can feel it in your throat.

Once out of the subway, you and Leon walk towards the barricade. Leon stops in front of the barricade, eyes scanning the sight before him while you're looking around in awe. You never thought you'd be in Raccoon City, a fictional city in your universe, but here you are!

"Okay, Sherry. We've hit the barricade. Looks like someone else was here first, and they were planning on busting their way in." Leon looks away from the barricade, searching his surroundings. "Know a way around?"

Leon's intercom crackles, and you hear Sherry on the other end of the call. "The Army Corps of Engineers erected it to seal the city. It goes on for miles."

"Guess the only way in is through, then."

The call with Sherry ends there, and you and Leon get to searching around. You and Leon need to find a detonator to blow up this barricade. There are a few zombies here and there, but not near this base you and Leon come across. After searching around and getting fuel to power the camp, Leon finds out that the camp belongs to the BSAA.

As Leon collects items around the camp to add to his belongings, you lean against the table, looking at the maps and objectives in the camp. Leon enters the camp, speaking to Sherry on the intercom before approaching the laptop on the table and turning it on.

You watch Leon do his thing, completely mesmerized by what he can do with and without the help of Sherry. You start roaming around the camp, trying to take in as much information as you can because who knows when Leon will rely on your knowledge and memory? Speaking of memory, your memory is still a little bit fuzzy—not the memories of when you first arrived in this universe, but the memories before you were thrown into Leon's world.

"Alright, it looks like everything is settled for now. We need to find three detonator parts and assemble them if we want to make it past the barricade," Leon comments, pulling you out of your thoughts. "Are you ready to go?"

"Ready as I'll ever be. Do I get my own weapon, or am I holding onto you while you mow down these zombies?" You joke, walking to the garage with Leon.

Leon stops in front of you, holding his arms out and spinning around before stopping. "Pick a weapon of your choice, and choose wisely."

You walk around Leon, looking at every weapon that is decorating his body. Three handguns (Requiem included), hand grenades, a shotgun, and the infamous hatchet that is sitting prettily above Leon's ass. Leon watches you, amused over the fact that you're walking around him and looking at his weapons like you're window shopping.

You stop in front of Leon, tapping on your chin. "As much as I would love to choose Requiem, it's too powerful for an amateur like myself." You sigh, feigning disappointment.

"Hey, with enough practice, I'm sure you'll be able to use Requiem like a pro in no time."

You purse your lips, walking closer to Leon. "I have made my decision! I'll take these guns instead of Requiem." You say, wrapping your arms around Leon's massive biceps. "I heard they pack a punch almost as much as Requiem does."

Leon laughs. "Good choice; however, I believe you would much prefer this over your current choice of weapon." Leon hands you alligator snapper.

You inspect the gun, testing your grip on the gun. It doesn't feel too heavy on your hands like Requiem, and it's not bigger than your forearm and hand combined. Plus, you can put it away easily rather than it dangling awkwardly on your person like Requiem.

"Alright! Let's go kick some zombie asses and find those detonator parts, Leon!"

Leon presses the red button, and the garage slowly opens, only to be stuck halfway. You and Leon duck underneath the garage and start searching the rundown building. Leon adds another hand grenade to his growing collection while you pocket some of the items in the area in case Leon runs out of space. But since men have pockets that can fit a literal rocket launcher inside of them, you doubt that Leon will be running out of space any time soon.

Leon leads the way, walking ahead of you as he scans his surroundings. In his hand is Requiem, his beloved DSO-issued revolver, ready to blast any zombie that decides to pop out of nowhere like daisies. The first floor of the logistics warehouse is covered in dust, and as far as you know, there's nothing interesting that you need to take note of. Leon breaks the wooden boxes, obtaining handgun ammo (which he hands to you), walking further into the warehouse.

"Man, where are the zombies at?" You mumble.

By the grace of the universe, zombies start emerging from the ground like daisies. Leon looks at you, eyebrow raised. You shake your head, grabbing his hand and running back to where the two of you came from. As you're running back to the entrance of the warehouse, hordes of zombies are now wobbling and limping towards you and Leon.

"Wait a minute, a lot of these zombies have weapons!" You point at the zombie in the distance with a large, sharp object while the other is holding something that looks like it can take you out with a single hit.

Leon starts shooting the zombies with Requiem, blowing their heads off while you're aiming for the legs to immobilize them to give you time to reload and shoot other nearby zombies. Everything seems to be going smoothly until the one fucker with a gun appears out of nowhere and starts spraying bullets all over the place, forcing you and Leon to go into hiding to prevent getting hit by any stray bullets.

"You know, I did not know that zombies have Second Amendment rights—because, you know, they're dead—but I shouldn't be surprised at all because this is the United States of America." You grumble, burrowing yourself closer to Leon as the armed zombie starts making its way to where you and Leon are hiding.

Leon grabs a hand grenade and chucks it into the warehouse. A loud explosion follows not long after, and the sound of bullets spraying all over the place finally stops. You sigh in relief, peeking from your and Leon's hiding spot, making sure there aren't any zombies walking around. Little did you know, Leon also peeks from the corner above you, scanning the warehouse with scrutiny.

"Looks like we're safe for now," Leon mutters, nudging you to follow after him.

You sigh, following closely. "I don't know what's worse. Dealing with zombies that like throwing things, blister heads, or zombies that are armed." You mumble, reloading the alligator snapper.

"I'd say they're all bad, but unfortunately, since our journey has yet to come to an end, I'm sure there are things that will outrank the three you mentioned," Leon replies.

For the next thirty minutes, you and Leon proceed to explore the upper "floor" of the logistics warehouse. Zombies are, in fact, popping up like daisies and through the window, scaring the absolute shit out of you. One of them, which was carrying a projectile, swings the weapon at you, nearly taking you out. Leon grabs you by the back of your shirt and tosses you over his shoulder like a rag doll, and blasts the zombie's head off effortlessly, taking the other zombie with it.

You peek from Leon's shoulders. "I had it, you know?"

"I know you did. They appeared out of nowhere and caught you off guard." Leon pats your back before putting you back on the ground. "You're not hurt anywhere, are you?" Leon scans you from head to toe, making sure the blood stains on your clothes do not belong to you.

"I'm fine, Leon. But you'll need to give me a minute." You say, clutching your heart and taking deep breaths to calm your racing heart.

He gently rubs your back, looking around to see if there are any stragglers nearby. So far, there are zombies on the other side of the warehouse where you and Leon need to get to, but they don't seem to pose much of a threat (for now). Once you're done calming down, you gesture for Leon to proceed where you two left off.

Eventually, you and Leon got what you two were looking for and are now standing at the top of the logistics warehouse. Leon is looking through the binoculars, talking to Sherry over the intercom while you're peeking through the scope of Leon's rifle. A few zombies are wandering on the road near the camp, but there's a giant hole between the gas station and the camp, so they can't wander over even if they wanted to.

Leon turns around, looking at the building that's leaning over the overpass. You gently press down on the trigger, aiming for the zombies in the distance. Leon did say that there will be plenty of targets for you to practice on at Raccoon City, so you're doing that! You pull the trigger and watch the zombie fall to the ground, alerting the other zombie nearby.

You try shooting the other zombie, but miss a few times. Finally, after the fifth shot, the zombie's head explodes when the ammo penetrates its skull. Not bad! It's certainly not perfect, but you're doing great for someone who's not licensed! You lower the rifle and turn to Leon, only to see him watching you with an amused look on his face.

"Not bad, rookie. I'll give you some tips and tricks once we get to Cedarbrook Apartments." Leon gestures for you to follow him to the exterior elevator.

You hand Leon back the rifle, crossing your arms behind your back. "Rookie? Does that mean that you're officially my superior?" You get onto the elevator with Leon, watching him press the button.

"You can say that, yes."

You hum, watching the camp get closer. "Would it be unprofessional if a rookie… You know what? Never mind!" You press your lips into a thin line, waiting for the elevator to open.

"You can't start your sentence like that and then say never mind." Leon sighs. "Think about my feelings and how it makes me feel when you're about to say something unhinged, only to back off on it." Leon pokes your side.

You jolt and grab Leon's hand, glaring at him before he pinches your nose lightly. You swat his hand away, attempting to bite him. Leon covers your entire face with his hand once the elevator doors open. You stare at Leon through his fingers, contemplating whether you should do it. Leon raises his eyebrows at you, watching a thought brew in your head. He's wearing gloves, so it's not like he'll feel it anyway.

With his hand still over your face, Leon starts shaking your head around like how cat owners would. You burst out laughing, swatting his hands away from your face before fixing your disheveled hair. You two walk to the supply box in the BSAA camp, watching the screen light up. From there on, you leave the entire thing for Leon to deal with.

"What, you don't want to pick out a weapon of your choice?" Leon mutters, looking over his shoulder.

You shrug. "I think alligator snapper is great for now. Maybe as we progress in this area, before detonating the barricade, I'll pick something out. For now, you should upgrade your weapons. But definitely get more handgun ammo. I'm running low on them."

"Yes, ma'am." Leon murmurs, tapping away at the screen while you stare at him with your mouth agape.

You close your mouth and look at the entrance of the BSAA camp, trying to keep your composure. There's no way Leon just said that so casually. God, if only you and Leon could stay in Raccoon City a little longer after this. Lock you and Leon in a room, and you bet that you and Leon can repopulate Raccoon City in no time.

You lightly slap your forehead. "Am I ovulating or something? Why am I even more thirsty for Leon? Aside from the obvious…" You mutter to yourself.

Leon stops what he's doing and looks at you, eyebrows raised. "Did something happen?"

You turn to him, smiling at him innocently while shaking your head. You gesture for Leon to continue what he's doing, trying not to lose your mind. Leon continues what he's doing, and while he's occupied, you stare at his back, biting your lip. He's so huge. His shoulders are so broad, and his back… God, his back! You can see his back muscles through that tight shirt of his. The way he's leaning over the supply box, both hands on the edge of the box.

"You know I can feel you staring holes into the back of my head, right?" Leon asks, not looking away from the supply box.

You shrug. "Can you blame a lady? You're a sight for sore eyes, Mr. Kennedy." You lean on the table behind Leon, absolutely enamored by what you're seeing in front of you.

"Oh yeah? Are you liking what you're seeing?" Leon turns around, leaning against the supply box and crossing his arms over his chest, his biceps bulging.

You nod, biting your lips. "Oh, I'm loving it, Leon."

Leon pushes himself off the supply box, walking up to you like a predator would with their prey. Now, toe-to-toe, Leon stares down at you, caging you between his body and the table. This tension between you and Leon is so thick that you can almost physically feel it. The things you would do for Leon to wrap his arms around your neck and suffocate you.

"You're getting a bit distracted." Leon pokes your forehead.

You hum, grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers with his. "You're the distraction, actually."

Leon sighs, head tilting forward. "As much as I would like to address the elephant in the room, we have tasks to do," Leon mutters.

You pucker your lips. "If I rename myself 'Task,' would you do me?"

Leon laughs, shaking his head. "That's actually a good one, I gotta hand it to you."

You laugh, curtsying as you allow Leon to grab your wrist and walk you to Cedarbrook Apartments. While there's tension between you and Leon, you two continue exploring a newly unlocked area together like it was nothing. Of course, sometimes you and Leon would catch the other person staring at them, but it's not awkward. After obtaining more ammo for Requiem, you and Leon walk to the side entrance of the building.

You open the door cautiously, only to see that the building is rather dark inside. Leon walks in front of you, arm reaching behind to grab your hand and make sure you're close behind. Your heart drums against your chest the farther you enter the vacant building, eyes hardly adjusting to the darkness.

"You trust me, right?" Leon murmurs.

You squeeze his hand. "I trust you with my life, Leon."

"Good, I'm just making sure," Leon replies, gently squeezing your hand in return. "Cause I trust you with mine."

"Even if I can't aim for shit?" You rest your chin on Leon's back.

Leon laughs. "Yes, even if you can't aim, it's alright. I'll help you improve your aim."

Your heart does the weird thing again. It's fluttering against your chest, making your breath hitch. It doesn't feel unpleasant, but you certainly know that no one has ever made you feel this way before, until Leon Kennedy stepped into the picture. Even though your future remains unclear, you're going to cherish every moment you have with Leon.

You froze. "...What?"

He shrugged, completely unfazed. "Real six-seven behavior.”

You stared.

"What does that mean?"

He kept stirring. "You haven't heard? It's all the rage."

You narrowed your eyes. “The kids aren't here. You're the one that used it in a sentence just now.”

He tasted the spoon. Frowned. Added more lemon.

“That's because I'm the only one of us keeping up with the times.”

“Oh?” You lean against the counter. “So, what does it mean?”

He finally looked over, wearing the expression of a man who'd been caught bluffing during a hostage negotiation.

“I don't…exactly know.”

You puckered your lips. Studied him.

“But you've been saying it?”

He looked back to his pasta sauce, like it was a bomb he had to cut one specific wire of.

"...Timmy taught it to me."

"The twelve-year-old next door?"

"Mm."

"And you... didn't ask what it meant?"

"I figured I'd pick it up through context."

You blinked. "Have you?"

He stopped stirring. "No."

"So you've just been walking around saying 'six-seven' to people?"

"I've been selective."

"Leon Kennedy. Who did you say this to?"

"You."

"Anyone else?"

He thought about it. "I said it to Chris."

"And?"

"He looked at me for a long time. Then he said, 'Copy that,' and walked away."

“Did he know what it me–”

Leon shook his head. “I could tell he didn't.”

You buried your face in your hands.

"You two are forty. You are government agents."

"I know."

"And neither of you thought to Google it?"

Leon frowned thoughtfully. "...Six-seven."

You laughed so hard you nearly dropped the cheese.

“Here,” he said, handing you his phone. “Sherry sent me the floor plan, and we need to try and find Gideon’s office.”

“Sherry?” you said lightly, zooming in on various points of the map to try and figure out where you were. “You’re trading floor plans with other women? I thought what we had was special.”

“Oh, it’s special, alright. You see me getting choked and tied up with any other ladies besides you, sunny?”

You blushed vividly, a completely inappropriate series of images flooding your imagination, but you couldn’t exactly be blamed when he’d worded it like that.

“You’re irritating, Mr. Kennedy. Do you know that?”

His crooked smile was just this side of a smirk. “I take that as a compliment.”

“Of course you do.” Turning your attention back to the map on his phone, you walked around a bit, trying to orient yourself. Leon followed you in your navigational wanderings with his handgun at the ready and a vague scowl on his face, clearing corners and hallways and any place a zombie might jump out of.

“This is the dining room, obviously,” you said to yourself, looking over the balcony railing to the lavish spread below. The crystal chandeliers and candelabras cast a warm glow on the long table holding a feast fit for a king, and it might have been tempting had it not been for the bodies strewn all over the floor. “Leon, you hungry?”

Frowning, he looked over the balcony to the strange mix of luxury and blood-soaked devastation on display.

“No thanks. Almost getting eaten tends to ruin my appetite.”

Strangely, despite the low undercurrent of nausea that seemed to be permanent fixture for you now, you couldn’t say the same.

“I’m starving,” you said with feeling. “You don’t have any super-spy granola bars tucked in that belt of yours, do you?”

He huffed a laugh. “Sorry. I’d have thought you’d be too sick to eat, especially after you lost your lunch earlier.”

“That was probably the most awful, gruesome thing any human being has ever seen,” you reminded him. You shuddered even now to think of it. “Just because you have nerves of steel doesn’t mean everyone does.”

“I’m only kidding with you, sunny. I agree, it was pretty gnarly.”

“But not gnarly enough to not make me want a midnight snack.”

He glanced at his watch. “You’re way past a midnight snack. Think closer to breakfast.”

“Oh, well, we should go get waffles then, when we’re done here.” You followed him to the end of the hall, getting an eyeful of his trim, athletic figure as he jimmied a closet door open with his hatchet. “Though you probably only have kale smoothies and a five mile run for breakfast, don’t you?”

“It’s ten miles, actually. But I hate kale.” He found a note and a box of shotgun shells. “I do like waffles, though.”

“Whole wheat?”

“Nope. Butter and syrup and whipped cream, the whole nine.”

You smiled. “I knew there was something normal about you, Mr. Kennedy.”

“My big secret,” he agreed dryly. “Did you figure out where we are on the map?”

You showed him and were pleased when he nodded.

“Good work. We need to get upstairs, which means... here.” He tapped the stairwell marked on the map, just down the hall and through the adjacent room marked as the lounge. “I don’t actually know if his office is up there, but it seems like a decent bet.”

Gideon’s office could really be anywhere in the thousands of square footage you’d seen on the map, but Leon had probably infiltrated enough secret bases and bioterrorist labs to have a good sense for these things, and you were happy to trust his judgement. However, you were quickly becoming aware of an urgent matter of a more... delicate nature, and though you hated to derail his mission for something so little, you figured you should bring it up while you had a bit of a breather.

“Um, Leon?”

He checked the hallway again, making sure it was clear. “Yeah, sunny.”

It wasn’t the easiest thing to ask the world’s best-looking government killing machine if you could find a bathroom before continuing on his mission to save the world, and despite the necessity of it, you were suddenly very shy to ask.

“I, um... ” You fussed with the buttons on your sweater. “Can we, before we try and find the office...”

He raised a brow, giving you his full attention then, which only made it more embarrassing. 

“Can we what?”

Your voice was squeaky when you answered. “Can we... stop by the bathroom really quick?”

His expression relaxed then. “Oh. Sure. Where is it?”

You chewed on your bottom lip. “Downstairs. Sorry.”

“No problem.” He headed that way without complaint, the same direction you would have gone anyway until you went downstairs instead of up, and he glanced over at you as you meekly followed behind him.

“Don’t look so upset, sunny,” he said, a teasing note to his voice that made you feel more at ease. “Those of us who were made in a lab don’t have to worry about these kinds of things, as you know, but they did program me to be aware of basic human biology.”

You laughed a little. “That was good thinking on their part.”

“Yeah, well, it makes for a better PR campaign. It’s no sweat, really.” 

He opened the door to the dining room, and the bodies you’d seen from the balcony above were strangely still, not really dead but not trying to eat you yet, either.

“It’s weird they’re playing possum like that,” he said, helping you take careful steps around them so if they did suddenly come to life, you wouldn’t be on the menu. “Gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“You’d rather they be trying to kill you?”

“I’d rather kill them myself and make sure they’re dead,” he said plainly. “But no use borrowing trouble, so if they’ll play nice, I will too.”

In the hallway, from beyond the bathroom door, you heard the frantic growling of a zombie who was decidedly not playing nice. Leon kicked the door in - you thought that time maybe just for the fun of it, because it wasn’t locked - and took care of it with two quick shots to the head.

“Great accommodations they have around here,” he said. “Really makes you want to keep coming back for more.”

You’d decided that his dry humor was a bit of a trademark, and though it was an interesting choice in the face of overwhelming brutality, you guessed the saying was true that you had to laugh to keep from crying.

“You’ll just... stay right here?” you asked. “You won’t ditch me?”

He leaned against the wall by the bathroom door, as unhurried and casual as could be. “Nope. Not gonna ditch you.”

In the bathroom, skirting the prone figure on the floor, you quickly attended to matters and went to wash up. The mirror was cracked, but you could clearly see the evidence of the last few hours in your reflection - your hair was a mess, your face smudged with dust and blood and who knew what else, your clothes a Jackson Pollock painting of gore. You winced, feeling a further twinge of embarrassment that you’d been such a wreck the entire time while Leon was out there looking like a Greek god.

Combing your fingers through your hair and putting it back in a neat braid, you tried to scrub the worst of the blood and grime and whatever else off your face and hands. Your bandaged hand was a grisly sight, even under the gauze wrapping it had bled through, and you were careful not to get it wet. There was nothing you could do about the mottled bruises on your throat, though Leon had ones to match so you weren’t a total freak show in that regard, and you touched them gingerly and flinched at the pain even that light pressure brought.

Feeling better now that you were little cleaner, you came back out to the hallway and found Leon right where you’d left him.

“Well, don’t you shine up like a new penny,” he said pleasantly. He pushed off the wall and nodded across the hallway to a different door. “You game for a little treasure hunt?”

You gave him a suspicious smile. “I guess. What kind of treasure is there in a zombie-infested hospital?”

“One way to find out.” He handed you the note he’d found in the closet upstairs, and you read over it with doubtful wariness.

“So... you want to go find an undead cook and steal his pantry key. That’s your treasure.”

“Yeah.”

You gave the note back to him. “I get it. This is an enrichment thing for you. Like when you give a dog peanut butter in a rubber ball and make him work for it.”

The corner of his mouth quirked. “Where do you come up with this stuff, sunny?”

“It’s a natural talent.” You gestured widely to the door he’d indicated. “Lead on, good sir. Treasure awaits.”

He took you into the kitchen, and without even having to hunt on your treasure hunt, you found the gigantic cook who would have been impossible to miss. He wasn’t unnaturally huge, just a big guy in life and still that in undeath, and Leon motioned for you to stay low and quiet as he crept up behind him.

You executed your part of the mission perfectly, hiding behind the door of an industrial-grade fridge. Leon, on the other hand, made a career-ending mistake and brushed up against a frying pan precariously perched on the stove, sending it clattering to the floor.

“Well, shit.”

He raised his shotgun as the big guy swung around with a furious snarl, surprised for a moment by the cleaver in the cook’s hand that was almost as big as you.

“What the fuck are you cutting with that thing?” Leon growled. “Elephants?”

The cook’s only answer was a skull-rattling roar, and he charged full speed until he was knocked back by a chest full of buckshot. You winced and looked away, not taking any pleasure in the carnage even if it you’d become a little numb to it by now. It took several shotgun slugs to finish him off, but when it was over, Leon triumphantly held up the key he’d swiped from his pocket.

“Come on out, sunny,” he said. “Time to see what we got.”

Cautiously, you peeked out from behind the fridge door. “Are you sure he’d dead?”

He nudged him with the toe of his boot. “Yeah. Pretty sure.”

Coming over to his side, you grimaced at the meat cleaver still held in the cook’s death grip. 

“Hey, that was really cool, what you did with the frying pan,” you said innocently. “Did they teach you that move in agent school?”

“Yes.” He picked you up by the waist and plunked you on the other side of the cook’s sprawled body. “And for your information, I got top marks in that course. Best in my class at knocking shit over.”

You laughed, finding it a little strange that he could draw it out of you so easily given the less-than-pleasant circumstances, but you were grateful for the lightness of it all the same.

“Here, sunny,” he said, handing you the key. “You do the honors, since you’re being such a good sport.”

The pantry was less of a treasure trove and more of... a pantry, but Leon cracked open another closet door and found a box of handgun ammo and something he didn’t quite know what to make of.

“It’s a... toy, I guess,” he said uncertainly, handing it to you. 

“Aw, it’s a little tchotchke,” you said, running your thumb over the surface of the small plastic charm. It was shaped like a whiskey bottle, complete with a miniature label and cap.

He frowned. “What in the hell is that word you just said?”

“Tchotchke? It’s Yiddish. It’s like a knickknack.” You affixed its short chain to the barrel of his pistol, and he didn’t protest. “There. Now you have a good luck charm.”

He hummed in agreement. “Very generous of you, sunny.”

You smiled up at him. “So, what’s our next treasure hunt?”

“Gideon’s office,” he said, ushering you back out to the hall. “Don’t think we’ll be finding any knickknacks up there, though, Yiddish or otherwise.”

Making your way back upstairs, you didn’t stop at the landing for the second floor and went right up to the third. Leon dispatched a few wandering infected as you went, and when he pried open the carved double doors that barred your way, you sucked in a sharp, wincing breath.

“What a fuckin’ shame,” he said grimly, looking over the mutilated bodies littering the furniture, the blood on the walls, the chunks of flesh glistening on the floor. The cook had been all fun and games, you supposed, in his own macabre way - but this was a stark reminder of the reality that these were people, and Gideon had killed or infected every last one of them.

“Stick close,” Leon said, taking your hand and putting it to his belt himself. You were glad for the contact, stepping in his scarlet footprints to avoid the worst of it, trying not to look at the brutal display that marked every square inch of the place. 

Through the next door into a former conference room, the butchery continued, and you forgot all about waffles and good luck charms and treasure hunts as your vision swam with the seemingly unending violence. The scent of blood and rot was overwhelming, clinging to everything in patina; though dulled earlier by your brief emotional respite, your wounds were starting to hurt again, badly, and you looked intently at the straps of Leon’s holster just to give yourself something to focus on as you made yourself take slow, measured breaths.

You did find an office off the conference room, thankfully as yet unmarred by pools of blood and greying bodies, but there were no computers, no files, no indication that it was actually used as Gideon’s personal workspace. Leon heaved a tired sigh, running a hand over his face as he leaned on the edge of the desk.

“Should we go look somewhere else?” you asked, willing to try different spots you’d seen on the map that might give up some of Gideon’s files. 

“I guess,” he said, his voice flat. He reloaded his handgun, briefly touching his fingers to the charm you’d attached to it. “Let’s look at the map again and see what our options are.”

While he pulled out his phone and fiddled with the floorplan of the clinic, you looked absently around the office that was another sumptuous display of full bookshelves, fancy furniture, and copper sconces on dark wood walls. A painting on the wall behind the desk caught your eye, some abstract rendition of an upside down tree or a volcano in reverse, red webbing or roots branching downwards into a swath of black. What interested you was the way it didn’t quite fit in the frame, the top of it a few centimeters shy of the gold border.

“Surely not...” you said to yourself, thinking it was something you’d see in a spy movie and not in real life. But you were also trekking through a zombie-filled hospital with a government agent, so maybe real life was a bit more fantastical than you gave it credit for. Putting your fingers over the lip of the painting, you pulled it down and revealed a lever. 

“No way.” You turned, excited. “Leon! Look what - ”

An awful, screeching cry came from the first room, and you watched in horror as the window into the lounge shattered around the vaulting body of some brand-new type of infected. Leon was on his feet and sending a bullet into its throbbing, blistered head before you could even think to react; yanking the lever down, you prayed it would lead to some secret passageway and not trigger some self-destruct mechanism that would get both of you killed.

Leon had his hands full with the five more infected that burst through the door, each of them snarling and wailing as they seemed to simply absorb the bullets he riddled them with. The lever did activate a door, but it was excruciatingly slow as it slid open; you could do nothing but watch as Leon kept them at bay with his shotgun long enough to get close and dig his hatchet into their swollen heads. Every time he did, their skulls exploded with a splash of blood and brain and wet strings of muscle, coating the walls and floor in a thick, syrupy film.

Finally, finally, the door jerked open and revealed a concrete hallway. Leon threw his hatchet with a frustrated roar, sticking it in the head of the last infected that staggered back with a gurgling shriek.

“Well,” he panted, putting his boot to the zombie’s back and wrenching his hatchet free with a ghastly sucking noise that made your stomach turn. “That’s my cardio for the week.”

You couldn’t respond, suddenly dizzy with pain and nausea, pressing your injured hand to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut against the onslaught of revolting, terrifying sensory input. Even if you didn’t die here, which seemed increasingly likely the longer you went on, you’d never be able to forget the clinging gore, the smell of acid and iron and disease, the sound of some pitiful, gruesome hunger that would never be satiated.

“Sunny?”

You flinched at his low voice, pressing back against the wall, covering your injured hand with the other.

“Don’t hurt me,” you whimpered foolishly, but it was the only thing you could think to say.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. Look at me.”

You did as he said, your eyes welling with tears as you bit the inside of your cheek. His expression was calm, steady, concerned as his gaze traveled over your face and finally met your eyes.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

You shook your head. “I’m just... I don’t know.” A few tears spilled over, cutting a path through the spatters of blood it had taken no time at all to color your face again. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for, sunny. It’s alright.”

Your eyes flitted past him to the doorway. “I found a door.”

“I noticed. Good job.”

“It doesn’t feel like a good job,” you said miserably, running the back of your shaking fingers over your cheek, smudging the tears and blood on your skin. “It probably leads to some torture chamber filled with freaks who want to rip our throats out and throw us in a meat grinder.”

He huffed a laugh, but it wasn’t unkind or dismissive. “I’m not gonna let them throw you in a meat grinder, sunny.”

Your breath hitched. “I want - ” You stopped yourself just short of saying you wanted a hug, feeling a dull flush spread over your face. It had nothing to do with that silly, girlish notion of how handsome or charming he was - it was simply a strong desire for tenderness, warmth, the feel of something that didn’t want to hurt you. But your relationship with Leon was already way beyond the rulebook for normal human interaction, and you’d asked enough of him as it was just by being in his care.

“I want to go home,” you finished, your voice like a little girl’s. It was partly the truth, even if you didn’t know how you’d ever get over such a nightmarish experience even when you got there.

He breathed a sigh. “I know. I’m trying to get you there.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you said, feeling guilty that it had maybe come across as an accusation of failure or intentional withholding on his part. “I just meant that - ”

“It’s alright,” he said gently. “I know what you meant. I want to go home too.”

You gave a watery laugh. “No you don’t. You love this kind of thing.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up, rueful and wan. “I’m good at it, but I don’t love it.” 

He touched a hand to your arm, offering a little bit of that warmth and tenderness you wanted so badly.

“If we can find a way to override the clinic’s security system, we can get you home,” he said. “I think it’s a good chance your secret door is gonna take us to Gideon’s office, and hopefully not a torture chamber. You want to find out?”

Gathering what scraps of courage and endurance you had left, you took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.”

His smile was a little warmer then. “Good girl. Let’s go.”

and despite your best efforts, a single tear slipped free, tracing silently down your temple before soaking into the pillow beneath you like rain disappearing into the ocean.

Fuck. Why couldn't you stop?

you hated this. hated how every breath scraped painfully through your lungs, how your chest felt too tight to breathe properly, as though grief itself had wrapped its hands around your ribs, smothering your senses. soon, as you were thinking it all, another tear followed.

Then another.

grief... but of what? It wasn't as though your life was lacking. God, no. You had everything you'd once wished for, perhaps even more than you had ever dared to dream of. So why was there still that hollow ache buried somewhere deep inside your chest?

That quiet, gaping void that seemed to grow a little wider with every passing night. Was it the past? The memories that refused to loosen their grip?

The words you'd swallowed when you should have told them to fuck off, or maybe it were those thoughts that had nestled themselves between your ribs, making a home there as though they belonged? You didn't know anymore. All you knew was that carrying it had become unbearably heavy.

And eventually, the dam you'd spent so long holding together gave way— not with a crack, nor a slow collapse, but all at once. It shattered. and with it... so did your heart.

you squeezed your eyes shut, trying with everything you had not to cry. Not now. Not with your boyfriend, Leon, sleeping so peacefully beside you, his steady breaths filling the quiet room.

You didn't want to wake him. You didn't want him to see you like this. More than anything, you didn't want him to be sad. You didn't want him carrying the same weight that had settled so heavily inside your chest, nor did you want him to become someone who blamed himself for a pain that had never been his to bear.

But still here you were, sobbing and silently breaking.

suddenly, the mattress dipped beside you. Christ... you tried to swallow your tears, but the lump in your throat only tightened, making it almost impossible to breathe. You wanted to move, to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, yet your body refused to obey.

then completely unaware and still half-asleep, Leon instinctively reached toward your side of the bed. His arm lazily draped around your waist, pulling you closer out of habit— only for him to freeze when he felt the unmistakable tremble running through your body.

his eyes fluttered open, only to land on your trembling figure, shit, he thought because the sight alone made something inside his chest crack. You were shaking so hard your shoulders quivered with every unsteady breath.

"Love...?" he called softly, panic creeping into his voice.

You hurriedly scrubbed at your tears with the back of your hand, forcing a smile that fell apart almost as soon as it formed, "m' okay," you whispered, but your voice betrayed you, trembling so badly the words barely made it past your lips.

...

This was the first time Leon had ever seen you like this. You had always been the strong one—the one who insisted you were fine even when you clearly weren't, the one who smiled through exhaustion and carried burdens that were never yours to bear.

But now...

The moment his eyes landed on you, something inside him dropped, his heart sank so violently it felt as though it had fallen straight into the pit of his stomach with a sickening, deafening plop.

No, he had felt fear before, he had watched partners die, he had lost people on missions, and he had stared death in the face more times than he cared to remember.

None of it compared to this.

Seeing you lying there, pale against the dark bedroom sheet, looking so heartbreakingly small beneath the room, as if all the weight of the world was on your shoulders.

It crushed something inside him.

It felt as though a wrecking ball had swung straight through his chest, reducing his heart to splinters before he could even take another breath.

His mind refused to give any more instructions to his body, it felt as if paralysis has struck him. Then questions appeared slowly inside his chest.

Why didn't I notice?

How long have you been carrying all of this alone?

Why didn't you trust me enough to tell me?

The questions struck one after another, each one more merciless than the last, until they became unbearable.

For one endless second, Leon laid frozen beside you unable to make his body obey him, as you clutched his arms and let out another tearful sob.

...

Then instinct finally won, soon Leon pushed himself up without another word and gently turned your face towards him, "hey, no you are not." His voice was low and impossibly soft. "Look at me." he crooned.

You couldn't, and fresh tears blurred your vision as another sob escaped your lips, your shoulders trembling so violently it became impossible to stop. It was embarrassing. Humiliating, even. But what hurt far more was seeing him like this— his eyes filled with worry, his hands trembling ever so slightly as though he was terrified you might shatter right in front of him. The sight alone made your heart ache. "I'm sorry," you whispered brokenly, your voice wavering between uneven breaths.

"Don't say that, there is nothing to apologize for."

You tried to pull away from him, shifting your weight uneasily, unable to meet his eyes. Your gaze fell somewhere between the sheets and the space beside him as you swallowed hard. "...I don't know what's wrong with me," you whispered.

"there is nothing wrong with you", he breathed his voice dropping an octave, and you realized his voice carried the same pain as yours, and before you could retreat any further into yourself, Leon wrapped both arms around you and carefully pulled you against his chest. "I am not letting you go, you hear me?"

You could not form a reply instead you melted into him almost instantly, your tears soaked through his T-shirt as your fingers clutched weakly at the fabric, as though letting go would send you drifting somewhere neither of you could reach, and he simply held you, one hand rubbed slow, soothing circles across your back while the other rested gently against your hair. "Shh, my love, I am here", then he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, "I've got you."

"I can't stop..." you whispered brokenly as another tear fell down, and you let out a low guttural sound of your own heart breaking: while the lump lodged that sat inside your throat only swelled further, growing heavier with every shaky breath until it felt as though it would split you apart from the inside out, because everything you'd spent so long burying— every hurt, every fear, every unspoken word pressed relentlessly against your chest, threatening to burst free all at once.

"Let it all out, i will be here holding you through everything."

God... you were so grateful.

Grateful that he was yours.

Grateful that you were allowed to hold him through every broken piece of himself, just as he held yours. Grateful that, out of everyone in the world, he was Leon— your Leon, and you never realized how desperately you'd needed this, or so much of your life, love had been tangled with hurt. home had never truly felt like home, and you had endured more toxicity than tenderness, teaching yourself to survive instead of simply exist.

and yet... now finally, you were curled safely against his chest, crying until your heart had nothing left to give, and somehow feeling more peaceful than you ever had before. It was as though every ache you'd carried for years had finally found somewhere safe to rest, and a shaky laugh escaped you through your tears. "I... I don't even know why I'm crying."

Leon only held you a little tighter, his hands slowly tracing your spine, while grounding every emotion in you, "You don't have to know, its okay, my love" he didnt give you a chance to speak, instead he spoke first, and his voice never wavered as he sighed shakily. "You don't have to explain it to me, unless you want to."

Then his voice softened even further, barely above a whisper. "Remember..." He gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "It's okay to feel whatever you're feeling. You're not too much. You never were." His thumb traced slow circles over your hand, that rested on his chest, "You don't have to bottle everything up anymore. You don't have to carry every burden alone, or convince yourself that no one will stay." His gaze never left, from your frame, as he cradled you against his chest, and it was unwavering and full of quiet certainty. "you have me. until the day I die." He swallowed thickly before continuing, his voice trembling with raw honesty, and he never knew that it was possible not until you, "And I'm not going anywhere, even if you tried to push me away..." A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at his lips. "...I'd sooner bury my own soul than ever let you face this world alone again."

it took a moment for your heart to truly process what he'd said. The tears gradually eased, no longer falling in desperate waves, and the violent pounding in your chest slowly softened until your heartbeat found its way back to a steadier rhythm.

"I will always be here." he quietly reassured you.

"and as long as you are here I will be okay." You replied, shakily.

he doesnt say anything, just hums something incoherent while, his heartbeat remained steady beneath your cheek, grounding you each time, and for a long while, neither of you spoke, and Leon? he didnt tell you to calm down, he just simply stayed quietly beneath you, exactly where he was, letting you fall apart in the safest place you knew, and eventually, your breathing as well... began to slow.

finally, your grip on his t-shirt loosened, and even then, he didn't let go. If anything, his arms tightened around you as he gently pulled you higher until you were lying against him, your body resting atop his.

A small, exhausted sound escaped your lips, but you made no effort to move away. Instead, you simply stayed there, holding him just as tightly as he held you. Your chest rested against his, and in the quiet that followed, you could feel it—the steady drumming of his heart beneath your cheek, matching the frantic rhythm of your own, beating together in the stillness.

"Promise me, something?" he murmured, brushing another kiss into your hair, his words vibrated against your body, making you shudder just slightly.

"Wh...what?"

"That whatever, happens, you will tell me, you won't think you are alone."

You let out a small, shaky, "Yes," before leaning closer and pressing a soft kiss against his chest, right over the cotton of his T-shirt, leon's breath caught for the briefest moment. His hand slid gently into your hair as he runs his fingers through them, "There's my sweet girl." you sighed in bliss.

and for the first time that night.. the weight on your chest loosened, though it didn't disappear entirely, but it no longer felt like you were carrying it alone.

also a part of you knew you never had to explain another thing, because Leon understood you, just as you understood him.

It had always been that way.

It always would be, forever— until death did you part, and perhaps... even then, the two of you would crawl through hell itself for one more chance to find your way back to each other.

Leon can’t help but let his eyes go wide. His mind travels to dark places in the beat of silence between you. “What is it?” 

Maybe you don’t tell him. You still have time. Act coy and coquettish, write your hesitation off as flirtation when he asks why you pulled away. Still, looking into his eyes, all large and fawn-like, and filled to the brim with such care you’d be an ass to keep anything from someone so understanding and willing to listen, especially something as important as this. He deserves to know, like he deserves to have all of you.

“I’ve never done this before. Ever.” 

His brows furrow. “What?” Then, as if you can see the cogs turning through a window in his forehead, you watch him put the pieces together, nodding at his conclusion. “Sex?” 

“Mhm.” You cut your eyes, unable to meet his. “Sorry.” The apology quickly slips from your lips, a formality you’ve taken upon yourself more than bending under the pressure. It’s not as though you’re embarrassed or ashamed, but it seems like something to say at the moment. 

“Hey, look at me. No need to apologize,” he promises, crooking a finger under your chin to direct your gaze back to him. 

“I haven’t scared you off?” 

“Honey,” he says with a laugh as if you just told him the sky is green. “It takes a lot more than that to scare me.” And you know he’s not lying. “But–”

“You don’t want it?” 

The tension in his brows melts, and he tilts his head as though personally offended by your assumption. “That’s not true, and you know it.” He grabs your face in his hands, dipping his chin to give you a sweet peck on the forehead. “I just want to make sure it’s something you want. Is it?” 

You nod against his lips, then he pulls away, a smirk at the corner of his mouth. 

“Can I hear you answer in that pretty voice of yours?” 

“Yes. Yes, Leon, I want it.” 

He smiles with a little bit of tooth. “Good.” 

“Deep breath. Come on, deep breath.”

You inhale, pushing your lungs to their full capacity, savoring the scent of Leon’s skin: musk and clove, black pepper, and that specific smell attached to men who don’t try too hard to smell good but it seems to be embedded in their DNA. 

“That’s it. One more time. Just relax.” 

Another inhale. This time, you feel your hips melt a little further into the mattress, your head dizzying as though you took a hit of a joint or sipped on a glass of wine. A good, deep breath is a drug in and of its own. 

“There you go,” he coos, pumping himself in his fist. You try not to look, already intimidated by the sheer size of him. Not too thick but, boy, is he long. And pretty. With a pink head, already weeping with a bead of anticipation, and a few sprawling veins that crawl up and down the length. “Don’t be scared. It’s okay. I’m here.” 

He could make you kill a man if he asked you in that voice. 

From above, his eyes are affixed to yours as he awaits your signal. “You ready?” 

You nod. “Yes. Please.” Parting your legs just a bit more to accommodate the width of his hips between them, you allow the head to glide up and down your pussy, waiting teasingly at your seam.

He chuckles lightly at your plea, manually lining himself up with your hole, already sopping wet from the work of his tongue. Then, he enters you. One inch at a time until he’s half-way there, another promise. The stretch is something you could never imagine on your own without experiencing it once or twice. It burns. Like that time when you were a kid and fell off your bike, knees scratched and gouged. And it stings. 

You hiss through gritted teeth, immediately regretting it once Leon’s hips stop moving, and he’s caught, half-way inside.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, looking down at you. Strands of icy blonde hair hang down like curtains, the tips tickling your forehead. “You okay?” 

Biting down on your lower lip, you nod. “Yes, keep going.”

He doesn’t. One hand comes to cup your cheek, the other smoothing your hair down the side of your head, his weight still resting on his elbows, dug into the mattress top. “If you want to stop, just tell me, okay?” He would really hate that, though. You’re so tight around him, squeezing his cock to the point he’s unsure if it’d let him go. “Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

Leon plunges the fullness of his length inside you, causing you to cry out like a wounded animal on the forest floor, or a future piece of roadkill on the side of the highway. 

“You’re doing such a good job. Keep breathing for me. Just relax.”

He goes slow at first, warming you up, waiting for the signals that your pain has melted into pleasure. Once he hears your cries turn into gasping moans, he picks up the pace, hips slapping against your pelvic bone, the sloppy, wet sound like a cheer from the sidelines of a race. 

“That’s it,” he coos in your ear, his hot breath tickling your neck. “You’re taking me so good.” The praise is punctuated by a whimper of his own. “Doin’ so good for me, baby.” 

You dig your fingernails into the meat of his shoulders, tethering yourself to him, sure the movement could saw you into the mattress if you didn’t hold on to something. His chest begins to beat against yours, his heart thumping through his pec, the beat matching the rhythm of his thrusts

“You feel me stretching you? That feels good, huh?”

Not sure what to say, worried you’ll make a joke or something just as stupid, you nod quietly, drinking in the sounds of his pleasure, each moan and yelp from him adding to your own. It does feel good. Not quite the screaming, crying type of ‘feels good’, the kind of euphoric pleasure he inflicts on you when he eats you out, but it has the potential to be.

He tries so hard to elongate the act–it’s your first time after all. That’s the least he could do. 

But that all too familiar tension grows in his abdomen, the muscles there contracting and releasing at an erratic pace, and his cock begins to throb as he continues plowing into your pussy. Your pretty, wet pussy–fuck–he’s gone. 

Beautiful was what you initially pegged him as, eyes sweeping along the striking lines of an exhausted face and the stubborn swoop of hair spilling carelessly over his brow. Then you decided he was just prematurely aged. The silver threads catching at his temples and the aggressive shadow of a stubble made him look worn down by a decade of exceptionally bad sleep and even worse stress.

He looked like a man who could fuck good. Looked like he approached sex the exact same way he approached the rest of his miserable life, with unrelenting stamina and a terrifyingly methodical focus designed to dismantle whatever stood before him.

He also looked like an easy target, staring into the amber depths of his glass with a level of sad depression that practically radiated off his shoulders. All it took was you stepping directly into his line of sight, ordering another shot with a dramatic sigh, and offering him a painfully cynical comment about the state of the world (while deliberately showing off your cleavage).

The guarded set of his jaw twitched into the faintest ghost of a smirk.

You offered your name, he offered his (Leon—was it short for Leonard? Leonel?), and he leaned in when you laughed at his terrible attempt at a joke. A genuine chortled laugh because you hadn't expected a dad joke from a man who looked as brooding as he did.

You licked your lips, he followed your tongue.

Hook, line, sinker.

Which explains how you now find yourself trapped in a mating press on a mattress that probably costs more per night than your rent. A dingy, cheap motel would have been your practical choice, but you had noted the expensive gleam of the watch on his wrist within five minutes of sitting next to him. Freaking Hamilton that looked distinctly like a limited edition, judging by the brushed steel and intricate dial.

Frankly, you shouldn't be surprised he carried that much net worth. He’s handsome, weathered beautifully into his age (Late forties? Early fifties?), and clearly paid an exorbitant amount of money to survive whatever horrors are actively ruining his mental health.

What does surprise you is how you’ve underestimated the scope of his physical abilities.

Over the past blurry hour, this complete stranger has effortlessly folded you into positions that defy your understanding of your own flexibility. Knees pressed so securely beside your own ears you start to believe the fee you pay for your weekly reformer pilates class might be a scam.

Apparently what you needed to achieve this level of advanced mobility was the unrelenting dead weight of a very, very capable man. So fucking capable that you’ve genuinely lost count of how many times he’s wrung you out on these expensive sheets.

Four orgasms? Maybe five? Whatever the number is, another one is dangerously crawling up the base of your spine.

Your sanity might be beyond saving at this point. You’re sweating profusely, and the backs of your thighs are screaming in dull protest from being pinned back for god knows how long. Leon pulls out and snaps his hips again with a jarring impact that seems to grow more ruthlessly aggressive with every single grind.

He does it again and again and again until you’re basically screaming from the unavoidable crash of yet another orgasm, toes curling frantically in the suspended air while your nails bite into the heavy muscle of his arms.

This man is something else, obviously nothing akin to the standard parade of disappointing men who talked big but possessed absolutely zero game. They were a flimsy attempt to scratch the very surface of your boredom. Leon, by comparison, is clawing straight down to the bone.

There’s a slowness in his thrusts now, and you blink to find an actual smile breaking through the sweat and exhaustion on his face. The warm puff of a chuckle against your cheek tells you he isn't simply amused. He’s actually entertained.

You huff, making a valiant but entirely useless attempt to mock him, "Stop laughing."

The sweat beading along his heavy brow does absolutely nothing to detract from how devastatingly smug he looks right now. “You’re shaking so much. It’s cute.”

So much for playing the femme fatale act at the bar. He swipes a thumb across your blotchy cheek, courtesy of his rough afternoon shadow.

“You okay?”

You sigh out a harsh breath, blowing a damp strand of hair out of your eyes. “Have you," you manage to wheeze, "even cum yet?”

He shakes his head, blue eyes glinting with unapologetic amusement.

"Are you ever going to?"

His low laughter rumbles warmly in your ears. “Why, you want me to stop already?" he presses a kiss against your jaw. "Thought you were having a good time."

“I’m having a great time.”

“Then what’s with the rush?”

“Maybe we should take a break,” you whine, gasping sharply when the weight of his pelvis rocks aggressively against your lower belly. “I-I need to pee.”

He seems unfazed. Moves like you didn't utter a word to begin with. Instead, what he does is press you even further into the mattress. “Is that right?”

“Fuck—Leon—” You arch your back as he maliciously tilts his hips. “You’re not helping.”

“I actually am,” he argues.

“What—”

“Let's test a theory," he drawls, hot breath ghosting over your pulse. "Do you really think you just need to pee, or are you about to squirt?”

You go completely still for a moment. Considering your track record of thoroughly uninspired hookups and non-lasting relationships, there is absolutely no palpable evidence to suggest you are capable of doing what he’s asking.

“I’m pretty sure I need to pee,” you reason quietly. “I’m not a squirter.”

He pulls back enough to meet your eyes. “You’re telling me you’ve never done that before?”

“I have no prior experience to suggest it's even an option.”

He looks genuinely offended by your answer. “Do you want to try?”

Your head falls back to fully take him in. He really is pretty. Never mind the faint, tired wrinkles bracketing his pale blue eyes, or the harsh features of a man who has clearly seen too much and slept too little. He’s simply too devastatingly gorgeous for his own good.

Even with the fragments of scars you’ve spent the last hour subconsciously counting on his neck, his shoulder, his chest. Scars that make you wonder what kind of terrifying life he leads when he isn't in a hotel room with a stranger, fucking their brains out.

And you’re very much aware you’re one of the few he’s taken to bed.

But is he always this attentive? This generous?

Does he fuck everyone else this hard yet still find the gentle grace to cradle their face and brush the hair out of their eyes?

You instantly hate how territorial you sound. It's wildly hypocritical for someone who values the cheap thrill of a purely physical transaction just as much as he clearly does. He’s just a good lover, you decide. And if tonight is the only night you get to have this man all to yourself, then so be it.

If he thinks he can make you squirt, then who are you to deny?

“You really think I’m about to squirt?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

You frown. “What if it’s just pee?”

He kisses the wrinkled line between your brows. “Make a mess then, I don’t mind.”

Yeah, you’re going to let him absolutely ruin you tonight.

“Then make me squirt, Leon.”

He dips his head, breathing the hot air of his lungs directly into your open mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

Your pussy tightens reflexively at that, which he obviously catches. He catches on to every desperate tell your body gives him, actually. Probably the sole reason why you've already come an embarrassing number of times.

Not enough, apparently, because he’s already moving his hips in rapid rhythms—not too fast or too slow, but enough to have your eyes sliding shut, focusing on the stretch of his cock driving deep in and out of your cunt.

“Fucking beautiful,” he hums, binding your wrists together above your head. “Just lying there looking all pretty."

“H-harder,” you whine, weakly pushing your hips up to meet him.

“Yeah?” He squeezes your wrists together, leaning even more of his massive frame over you. “You like it when I go hard on you?”

Like it? You thrive on it, nodding frantically as your trembling thighs try to lock around his waist. Try is definitely the word when he’s practically flattened you beneath his crushing weight, effortlessly trapping your body. You can feel your limbs turn gooey and powerless, your stomach contrastingly hard.

“I know, baby, I know,” he rasps, ramming his hips harshly against yours. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Ngh—h—”

“That’s it, give it to me. Make a mess on me.”

The panic hits you first, quickly swallowed by an absolute wave of pure heat. Starts as a buzzing ache in your core before violently spiking into an unbearable sensation. Your belly burns, coils, rattles—and you blink your eyes open, brimming with tears. “Leon—”

He instantly reads the panicked clench of your muscles.

“Don't fight it.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

Your groan is feral. “I can’t—”

“Come on, baby, you’ve got to trust me,” he croons softly. “Do you trust me?”

Surprisingly, you do, even if your only judgment on this man comes from the three hours that have passed since you sat down next to him at the bar. “Yes.”

“Good. Then let it happen.”

Your breath stutters. Your body jerks.

“Breathe through your nose.”

He plunges in with a particularly harsh thrust and you gasp. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Oh, fuck—”

“That’s it.” He closes the last inch of space between you. Foreheads touching. “Let it go.”

You try to follow his words and suck in a sharp breath. Lungs expanding, ribs flaring, and the rush of oxygen pouring into your blood sharpens every sensation to something blinding.

It’s like a switch. One moment your muscles are tensed, then a passage of whines pitches upward as your orgasm barrels through you without warning. Strong and gut-wrenching. Body hot in bliss and shame—only for two seconds. Quick as it hits, he abruptly pulls out, instantly replacing his cock with two calloused fingers.

Your mouth gapes in a silent scream. Even more so when his offhand curls around your neck. Fingers pressing against the sides of your throat, palm flat against your windpipe, but exercising barely any pressure all the while his fingers fucks your swollen, dripping cunt.

You’ve seen yourself getting wet, you’ve felt yourself getting drenched, but you’ve never experienced anything as wild as this.

Speckles of liquid spatter across the sheets the more he drags his hand in an up-and-down motion, its squelching sound rising above the fight of your labored breathing.

He pushes his palm against your clit.

“Oh fuck! fuckfuckfuck—”

A sudden rush spills over him. Soaks the sheets beneath you in dark patches and streams down the inside of his wrist, seeping hot onto his thighs. He continues to pump his fingers while you lie there—crying openly, violently shuddering. It goes on for what feels like forever until he smoothes out his pressure around your throat, kissing the drool glistening on your lips with a disbelief chuckle.

“Should’ve met you sooner,” he laughs into your mouth, easily slipping his cock back in.

Maybe it’s the bliss completely corrupting your nervous system, or perhaps it’s the overwhelming stretch of his thick cock driving back into your overstimulated cunt. Whatever it is, you completely lose your grip on the casual nature of a one night stand, eager words spilling past your wet lips before you can even screen them.

“Can we meet again?” You pant. “Like—after tonight?”

He withdraws his hips with a smug grin.

“I would,” thrust, “very much,” thrust, “like that.”

Thrust, thrust, thrust.

You’re somewhere right on the edge of a pathetic whimper and a helpless laugh, entirely too pleasured to think straight, dangerously too giddy at the possibility of actually getting to know him. To uncover those scars in daylight, to figure out what kind of hell he had to survive to inherit those devastatingly sad yet kind eyes.

To learn his last name. To unearth his middle.

You gasp when he effortlessly flips you over, twisting his fingers in your hair and pulling it back.