Archive of my previous blogs: https://www.tumblr.com/thememestrider?source=share Hopeful this one works out better than they did. If it's sci fi or fantasy, I like it :)
Gadriel and Ellicent have known each for years. Growing up in the belly of an underhive with no one but each other to rely upon, the bond they grew to share was all but unbreakable.
Until it wasn't.
Now, fifty years after circumstance tore them apart, fate has brought them back together. Only now, Gadriel is a sergeant of the Ultramarines. And Ellie is... something else.
So, what happens now? Can that unbreakable bond of theirs be mended? Or has war, pain and time ground it too far down for it to ever recover?
(cover art by @yanagikou and @galgannet respectively)
With NESD completed, I thought it was time I put together all the parts into a masterlist, to make reading it all a little easier :)
So here it is!
Heads up: I wrote this before the Data Vault update in SM2 gave Gadriel a canon first name and backstory, so neither are mentioned in this fic because at time of writing, they didn't exist. So, yeah. Just wanted to throw that out there lol.
Thank you for reading, and if you enjoy, then please consider liking, commenting and reblogging- I absolutely love reading and receiving them <3
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big fan of characters who look cool and tough and stoic but only because theyre internally thinking "fuckkk what do i say. how do i make friends. they didnt teach me how to do that in sword school."
art by the amazing, multitalented platonic loml, @bumblebeeonthistle
Reiner Braun X Reader - “I Remember You”
Summary: You and Reiner were children together — until he decided becoming a Warrior was more important than being a kid. You grew apart, and you lost the hope of reconnecting when he left for Paradis and came back older, a haunted thing you thought would never cross your path until he walked into your bar one rainy night.
Themes: canonverse with a lot of canon divergence (the timeline is funky but everyone is 18+), virgin!reader x experienced!reiner, fingering, oral (female receiving), cowgirl, missionary, Reiner has a kind of sub moment (??), angsty/emotional smut
Words: ~4k
You didn’t recognize him at first.
The late night crowd had thinned, leaving the bar sticky with beer. The lights cast an amber glow over the bottles. You were polishing a glass when the door opened and a patter of cold rain followed a man through the door. He stood just inside, like he was deciding whether or not he was really there; whether or not he was allowed to be in a place with four walls and not under a sky that wanted him dead.
He was bigger than a doorframe should make a person look, broad across the shoulders and tall even from a distance. His hair was shorter than when you knew him, his jaw was covered in a few days of stubble.
And his eyes-
You would have known him by his eyes alone, if only you’d expected to see them again.
“Counter or table?” you asked, the way you would a stranger.
He turned the his attention toward you, and the room receded. For a moment, you could’ve tricked yourself into thinking you saw a glimmer of recognition.
“Counter’s fine,” Reiner said, his voice deeper, gravely like he’d been talking to thin air for years. He set his coat on the stool next to his and sat like he was trying not to take up more space than he should.
“Bad day?” You asked, and the words came gentle. A practiced kindness you’d perfected through years of tending a bar.
He cracked a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Bad few years.”
You laughed softly, because the same was apparently true for everyone. You rarely got a different answer. “What’ll it be?”
He shrugged. “Whatever you recommend.”
You’d gotten good at reading people, at choosing liquor like stories to share. For him you picked something honest. Dark rum. Ginger beer with enough bite to make a man feel awake. You set it in front of him and watched as he took his first long drink.
“Thanks,” he said. “This is… good.”
“House special,” you smirked. “It doesn’t have a name. The regulars call it ‘whatever you think I need.’”
“Sounds dangerous,” he noted, and there’s the ghost of the boy you knew in the way his eyes sparked with amusement.
“You have no idea.”
He drank quietly for a while. The bar moved and you moved with it, topping off waters, taking coins tossed at you, sliding drinks down to latecomers. When you looked back at him, his glass was empty and he sat rolling it between his thumb and index finger, studying it in silence.
“Another?” you asked.
He hesitated. You could tell he was weighing the night’s options: going home to a bed that hasn’t known his shape since he was a child, or leaving before he remembered he used to be a person. He finally gave you a nod. You made the same drink and set it down, and then he held your eye as he introduced himself: “I’m Reiner.”
“I know,” you said before you could help yourself. Then, blushing, you laughed. “Sorry. That probably sounded creepy. You… lived by me, a lifetime ago. We used to trade marbles, before you decided you were too old for marbles.”
It was a test that made his mouth twitch at the corners. “You were really into the blue ones.”
“They made better shooters,” you said, matter-of-factly.
“You got good at keeping your hands steady,” he said, nodding at the bottle you poured from.
“You got good at… everything else.”
He flinched almost imperceptibly, and you wished you could take the words back. You were going for humor. What you pulled was a memory. He looked down at his drink again. You watched his throat bob and thought about the way children grow into adults. Something told you he’d skipped a lot of steps.
When the last table left not much later, you flipped the sign to CLOSED but didn’t lock the door, because there was almost always someone who wandered in needing something; usually just a reminder that not everything shut them out. You dimmed the lights, even though Reiner lingered at the counter.
“Do you ever…” his voice began to fill the silence, then stopped. You waited, because waiting was part of the job. “Do you ever feel like you came back wrong… From anything?”
You met his eyes and let him see that you understood him not only from rumor, but from living. “Sometimes I feel like I leave parts of me in every room I don’t want to step foot in but do anyway,” you said, setting a glass down to dry.
He huffed a breath. Almost a laugh. The corner of his mouth twitched again in a soft way. “I didn’t mean to unload on you.”
“Who else are you supposed to unload on?” You shrugged, “It’s my job. That, and making sure people don’t fall asleep on my bar.”
“I don’t sleep much,” he said.
“Lucky me,” you responded lightly, before adding, “You can talk, if you want.”
He did. Carefully at first, then like a dam breaking open. He didn’t tell you everything, but he told you enough. He told you about the island. About the Walls that meant one thing when you’re inside them and another when you aren’t. About carrying things he’d never put down, even if he should. About the people he was meant to hate. He didn’t ever utter the excuse, “I was a child”, when he could’ve.
You listened, and you nodded when the words were too risky to touch. You passed him water between drinks, and he took it without arguing. Sometimes he’d apologize for swearing, and you snorted and swore worse, just to make him grin. The smile was always small and maybe even a little timid, but it meant something.
At some point he looked at you like he was resurfacing from water only to realize you were waiting on the shore the whole time. “You’re nicer now,” he said, like it was some kind of achievement you’d acquired.
“I always was,” you rolled your eyes. “You were just too busy to appreciate it.”
He laughed, like someone taking a step back from a ledge. And then the laugh faded. His gaze dipped to your mouth and back to your eyes like he was waiting for some kind of answer.
“Reiner…” you started with a sigh, but the right answer never came to you.
He leaned across the few inches of polished wood and kissed you.
It was immediate heat and clumsiness and not at all resembling the careful thing he’d been all night. His mouth was soft and wet and insistent, tasting faintly of ginger and something darker you didn’t have on tap. His hand came up to your jaw and he swallowed the way you gasped.
You kissed him back, but let him lead, your lips moving under his, learning the pace he set. You felt the scrape of his stubble, the plane of his chest when you stumbled around the bar to be closer, the way he made a barely audible noise when your hand found his shirt and tangled in the fabric as if asking it to keep him there.
His hands, shaky as they looked, were not so timid now. They trailed from your jaw to the line of your throat, down to the slope of your shoulders, pausing like he was toeing a line he didn’t know if he could cross. When his palm curled around your waist and pulled you flush against him, you made a helpless sound. He answered it by kissing you so deeply you swore you felt it in your knees.
“Wait-” you said, breathless, your forehead resting against his. His pupils were round as moons, his chest heaving slightly, but when he heard the quiver in your voice he immediately stilled, hands coming up and away, like you surprised a soldier by waving a white flag before the fight ever began.
“Sorry,” he said, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to- I shouldn’t have-”
“No, it’s-“ You shook your head, laughing once out of awkwardness and a vain attempt to hide the way you were fighting for breath. You found his hands where they hovered and laced your fingers between his so you could be sure he paid attention to the truth as you spoke it. “I’m not scared. I’m just… inexperienced.”
It proved harder to say out loud than you thought it would. It made you feel small in a way you didn’t enjoy. The world was good at making people feel unprepared for big things, after all. You didn’t want to give it the satisfaction; but if you gave him anything, you wanted it to be the truth.
He went very still, eyes searching your face. Then he nodded, trying not to let the information shape the way he wanted you. “Then we can stop. We can sit and finish your… what do you call it? Your ‘house special’. I’ll complain about the rain. You can explain why blue marbles make the best shooters.”
The relief in you was something warm and sweet. Not because he was retreating, but because you believed him. Because he cared about your comfort, and still wanted to share it with you.
You squeezed his fingers. “I don’t… want to stop.”
The lump that formed in his throat was too big to breath around. “You’re sure?” he asked, carefully. “If we do anything, we do it how you want. If you tell me to back off, I back off. If you tell me to slow down, I slow down. If you tell me to leave, I leave, and I’ll still come back tomorrow for whatever drink you put in a glass.”
“I want you,” you said the words, so new that you barely registered you were the one saying them. “I want-“ You swallowed hard and let the rest of it be as simple as the ache between your legs as you said it again, “I want you.”
He leaned in and kissed your forehead, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, a trail of devotion that had you shivering before he even found your lips again. “Then lock the door,” he murmured, and the huskiness of his voice against your ear made you shudder.
You didn’t hesitate. The bolt slid into place with a satisfying thunk. When you turned back, Reiner was standing exactly where you left him. This time, you’re the one who stepped to him, who fit your body against his, who tilted your chin to kiss him again and again until kissing didn’t feel like an action anymore, but a promise.
“Upstairs?” you suggested, heart leaping at the audacity of your own voice. You lived above the bar, a narrow staircase behind the bar leading to a room that had seen only you for as long as you’d been running the place.
“Wherever you’re comfortable,” he answered.
You took his hand and lead him up, and the brief pause you made to turn the lights off was enough for him to draw you back into the shadowed stairwell and kiss you like he had learned not to waste time over the years. You gasped at the friction when he pressed his hips against yours, and he groaned into your mouth.
In your small room, you fumbled with the lamp before deciding you didn’t want it. He straightened, pulling his face from the crook of your neck, letting you see him, giving you time to choose a different ending. But you’d already chosen this one.
“May I…?” he asked, hands hovering near your waist.
“Yes,” you said, placing his palms where you wanted them: at the curve of your hips, steadying you.
“You tell me to stop whenever,” he told you again, as if he enjoyed saying it.
“I know,” you whispered. “I will. I promise.”
He pressed his lips to yours again. His mouth was patient, coaxing yours open until the heat rushed back in a way that felt different — more like a discovery than a surprise. When he finally pulled back to breathe, your lips chased his, which made him smile against the corner of your mouth like you’d made him proud somehow.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured; and it should’ve felt more random. But he said it like he’d thought it for much longer than this moment.
“You’re biased,” you mused, before then forgetting whatever was supposed to come next because his mouth was on your throat, his tongue tracing over your pulse point with a care that made you feel both cherished and undone. Your fingers found his hair and he made a deep, approving sound that vibrates against your skin.
He helped you out of your shirt slowly, and you returned the favor. He felt solid under your hands, and when you splayed your fingers over his chest, his breath caught.
“Is this… okay?” you asked.
“It’s perfect,” he breathed.
He kissed every new inch of skin, easing you back onto your bed with a steadiness that never frightened you. When he touched you between your thighs for the first time, he did it over fabric. Gentle pressure and then a little more, watching your face, learning your breathing. Your hips jumped against his hand without your permission. He smirked at the action. “That’s it,” he said under his breath, more to himself than to you.
“My-“ when your voice came out too weak, you tried again. “My pace.”
“Your pace,” he agreed, nodding at the reminder before sliding his fingertips under the waistband of your underwear. He waited, and when you showed no resistance, he traveled further down.
You’d touched yourself before — tentatively, cluelessly. This was nothing like that. His fingers were warm and sure, his palm unshaking as he cupped you without the fabric as a barrier. When he found you already wet, he inhaled like all the other breaths he’d taken before now were fake.
He delivered a slow, circling pressure that had you gripping his shoulder and then pushing your face into the warm crook of his neck because it was way too much to look at him while you were learning what it felt like to be wanted this way. He listened to you the same way he listened at the bar, except words were the way your hips jolted and the way your breath shook on certain strokes.
“Tell me if this is good,” he murmured, changing the angle of his hand, and you couldn’t help the sound that erupted from your throat. “Okay, so… very good,” he guessed, smug, repeating the motion.
You were surprised by how fast the pleasure build. You thought release would be a long road; you didn’t expect it to be a hill you went down without slowing. Maybe it was the years of not letting yourself really experience it. Maybe it was him. You felt something cracking either way, and you gasped out his name as a warning, earning yourself a quick and soft, encouraging kiss. “Let it happen,” he coached, voice low. “I’ve got you.”
You fell apart on his fingers, a shattering that felt like relief, like a knot loosening all the way through your body. He held you through it, speaking praise you couldn’t quite make out. When you came back to yourself he’d pressed his forehead to yours, breathing like he was the one who just had the wind knocked loose from his lungs.
“Are you… alright?” he asked gently.
“Better than alright,” you replied with a soft kiss.
He broke it, sliding down your body like he’d been thinking about doing it for a long time, and when he settled between your legs, you made a sound of protect because it seemed unfair that he could look so good framed by your thighs. He laughed once, a warm breath against your dripping heat, but then he put his mouth on you and your protest was cut off.
He never stopped being patient. He let you ride his tongue in small, overstimulated twitches of your hips until he answered them with steadier licks that had you moaning and whining into the dark and he was practically begging for the taste of your release on his tongue without using any words — only the sloppy, wet noises of him eating you like you were his first meal after a decade long famine. When you came the second time, it was messier, surprised out of you with a cry that would’ve embarrassed you if he didn’t make his own sound of satisfaction so deep you felt it in your bones.
You laid there for a moment, stunned, as he kissed his way back up your body. You put your hand on his cheek and felt dampness there, realizing he didn’t wipe his mouth.
“I want you,” you said again, because the words felt different for a third time. “Inside me.”
He closed his eyes like he’d been given permission to picture it for the first time, and his face flushed. “But- are you sure? We can stop here. We can stop whenever.”
“I’m sure,” you answered, the words holding steady.
He kissed you, just a quick brush of his lips over yours that left your own taste behind. “We’ll go slow. You’ll be on top. You can control everything.”
You nodded, nerves returning, but mingled with thrill. He stripped hurriedly, leaving his underwear for last like he was making sure you had every chance to call it all off. When he finally took them off, your mouth went dry. He was hard already, thick, his tip angry-red and damp with precum; beautiful. He cursed under his breath when he saw your eyes widen, but you quickly shook your head, reassuring him you weren’t backing out. He laid back against your bed then, inviting your next move.
You straddled him, taking him in your hand because you wanted to, because you wanted to feel him — to learn him. His cock was hot against your palm and he groaned, tipping his head back. “Careful,” he sighed, voice ragged. “I’m trying to be good.”
“You are,” you said, meaning it. And then you rose up on your knees and he placed his hands on your hips; not pushing or pulling or evening guiding. Just resting.
You started to sink down, slow. Not all at once. The first few inches stretched you, and the burn was sharp enough to make tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Reiner’s hands trembled with the effort of restraint the more you took him into the tight warmth of your cunt, and a strained sound slipped from his lips. There he was — someone who had seen things in his life that would shatter the reality of any person — whimpering over the feel of you like some desperate puppy. “You’re doing so well,” he praised, wrecked and reverent. “So good for me.”
His sounds, his words, the way he held himself back for you, all woke your body up even more. “I want… all of you,” you said back, lowering yourself further until he was fully sheathed inside of you.
You both gasped. His fingertips tightened into your skin until he stopped himself, replacing the pressure with soft strokes of his thumbs over your hips. Time shifted. The room settled around you. You exhaled, and when you open your eyes he was looking up at you almost apologetically.
Wanting to let him know the pain wasn’t enough to make you quit, you rocked your hips experimentally, and the friction was shockingly… good. You did it again. He cursed, forcing himself not to lose control and start fucking up into you like an animal. You found a rhythm, and it got easier, better, your body taking him in more comfortably with every slide. The way he stared up at you — awestruck in the rawest way — made you braver. You picked up a little speed. He met you in uncontrollable, helpless lifts, his mouth parted and eyes dark.
“Fuck,” he said softly. “You feel… god, you feel perfect.”
You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest to change the angle just enough that sparks went through all of your nerves at once. You made a noise that made him growl weakly, and then immediately he reined himself back, as if he hadn’t meant to let that out. You did it again on purpose and grinned down at him, and he laughed unsteadily, happy to see you enjoying yourself even at his expense.
“You like that?” he asked, his voice tight and still somehow full of mirth.
You nodded, and when you ground down on him again, he lifted to meet you just enough to give you exactly the pressure you wanted. Your body tightened. You rode him like you were made for it, like the version of you who had no idea what you were doing before was completely replaced now by someone who knew how to use instinct to their advantage.
It built again, a warmth rising through you not like a wave this time but like a fuse lit. You followed it. He could feel you change around him, could feel the way your walls hugged him tight, and he slipped a hand between you to find you with the pad of his thumb, rubbing lightly, perfectly in time with the rhythm you’d found. You gasped, and he kept his thumb soft and consistent, until you tipped over with a moan you breathed against his mouth because you turned greedy for another kiss while you came.
You collapsed forward, shaking, laughter bursting out of you after the sighs because your body had never felt so ridiculous and so ethereal at the same time.
He couldn’t hold back anymore. He flipped you carefully under him without ever slipping out of you. His thrusts stayed slow and deep, eyes locked on yours, one hand cradling the side of your face like you were the most precious thing he ever held. Then his hips pumped desperately for a moment, he swore softly into your cheek, and he was done for, groaning, pressed as far into you as he could manage, pleasure surging through him in waves that made your own body reply with quiet aftershocks.
He stayed inside you until his breathing slowed, weight braced on his forearms while his body covered yours. When he finally slipped free, he rolled to his side then pulled you to you immediately, dragging the blanket over your bodies and tucking it around you with extra care.
“You alright?” he asked, voice tender and hopeful.
You laughed into his chest. “That’s one word for it.”
“Another is ‘incredible,’” he joked, then his voice went soft as he added: “You were. You are. Thank you.”
The thanks made you ache in a way that wasn’t physical. You laid in the soft settling of your combined breaths without needing to say a word. When your pulse returned to normal, you tilted your head back to look at him. In the dim light, the lines on his face looked less prominent. He suddenly appeared younger by years you knew he wouldn’t get back. When he noticed you looking, he raised an eyebrow.
“What?” he asked, smiling despite his confusion.
“Nothing,” you smiled back. “Just… I remember you.”
He smoothed your hair off your forehead, his other arm tightening around you. “I remember you too.”
“From before?” you questioned.
“From always,” he answered, quiet and earnest. Without a clue what to do with the bareness of it, you tucked the answer somewhere behind your ribs, where all your most important moments went for safe keeping.
You fell asleep for a while after that, waking only to the small shifts of him getting you water, of him pulling your discarded shirt over your shoulders when he noticed a draft. When you woke properly, the rain has slowed and he was propped on an elbow, watching you like you might disappear if he didn’t.
“Stay,” you said it before you could worry that you were asking too much.
“If you want me to,” he agreed, not reluctant in the slightest.
“I do,” you admitted. “I… might want that a lot, actually.”
He answered only with a soft laugh, disbelieving in the happiest way. You fell asleep again with his arm heavy and safe across your waist.
I love Reiner Braun. That’s it, that’s all.
Tomorrow (Day 4): Aftercare Moment - character tbd
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synopsis: he's getting older, and he knows that. not believing in luck or in love, leon finds himself in a position of complete misfortune. he convinced himself he's not worthy of love, but that changes when he meets you.
warnings: angst with fluff ending, age gap, leon is very insecure about his age and the reader. strangers to lovers, mentions of smut, ptsd, alcoholism, depression, suicidal thoughts. reader is very delicate, kind, and patient. there's parts from the vendetta book and a few scenes from re6. it starts with re6!leon and ends with di!leon
word count: 15k
a/n: guess who's back? to celebrate the 1 year re4r anniversary, I decided to post this one shot I was working for almost two months. I'm into my angst era again. also i wrote this based on this analysis i read, which made me think about the broken part of leon for a while, also this fic contains part of the vendetta book. feel free to leave comments, reblogs, tips, or positive critics. they're always very welcome ❤️
I. THE WEIGHT ON HIS SHOULDERS
Life can be a bitch sometimes.
This is what he says to himself when he finishes another bottle of whiskey. Every day, when he opens his eyes, he tries to stay positive, hoping his day will be different from his usual schedule; in the end, it is always the same bullshit. Over and over again. No apparent ending; always his solitude.
But someday it must end, right? He can’t be fighting B.O.W.'s for the rest of his life, can he? Maybe someday he’ll finally settle down and have a peaceful day. Maybe, on this day, his nightmares will stop, and if he’s lucky, he’ll sleep for the entire night. No one can blame him for dreaming of a perfect life, and no one can take this from him.
The government made him their slave, their deadly pet that follows and obeys every rule and command, and forced him to risk his neck almost every week to keep their country safe. What a bunch of assholes, he thinks to himself. Thing is, Leon hates himself for what he was forced to become.
There is so much pain. So much suffering. He only wanted to be a cop — nothing more than that. He wanted to deal with simple things — not bioterrorists ready to blow up the entire world, not grotesque mutations that defy the natural order of things. Certainly, if he had a choice to go back and change that night, he wouldn’t go to Raccoon City. He would've stayed in his cheap hotel room; he would have obeyed Marvin’s orders to not go in there.
But now he’s something else. The rookie cop who had to survive that night died. He can’t even recognize himself anymore, and sometimes, he blames himself for it. No more than he blames the government for it; if he could go back…
His days are filled with this emptiness — the sensation that he might never see his happy ending. Ada? Yeah, sure. He knows he can’t trust her, and God knows where she is or what she’s doing. He was so naive to fall for her like he did. While on his free day out of the office, he finds himself with a certain envy of happy couples. He can’t stop thinking: why can’t he have the same? Why can’t he be happy for once?
Getting older sucks. At this point, Leon thinks and has already convinced himself that he doesn’t belong to anyone and that he won’t be able to have someone. To experience love and being loved, he wants to be wanted. He’s getting older and still doesn't have anyone by his side. That’s the price he pays for having this life, and he still blames the government for taking it from him. He doesn’t remember the last time he actually felt something for someone, and at this moment of his life, it doesn’t matter to him anymore. Leon had already accepted the fact that he'd die alone. Maybe he’ll get a cat to keep him company. Since he’s not much of a dog person since Raccoon City, maybe he’ll name her a cute name; who knows? That’s probably the closest he’ll get to having something waiting for him at home.
Leon doesn’t remember the last time he actually felt happy. Since Raccoon City, he doesn't know what happiness means, and sometimes, on very rare occasions, he envies people around him. He feels like his entire life has no purpose and no meaning, and he’s completely faded to emptiness, to a sad existence based on killing bioweapons and serving his country. Does he feel proud about it? No, he doesn’t.
It’s been a very long time since Leon felt pride. That feeling died and is now buried in the remains of Raccoon City, inside that police station where his life turned upside down. Now he’s only an empty shell of what he used to be. He’s rotting inside, craving something he knows he can’t have, and there’s nothing but a void inside him, consuming every inch of him.
After serving his country for years, he started to get used to the idea that maybe he wasn’t made for a happy ending, and he shouldn’t bother with such things. He can’t afford the luxury of being with someone, because it means being vulnerable, and it also means he would have to open himself to things he swore he would never feel again. No, thank you.
Things at work aren’t exactly the best, either. Years ago, Leon started to question himself about whether the government cared about their people, especially the ones he had to kill in order to save others. Leon couldn’t forget what happened in Spain — the entire village he was forced to end so he wouldn’t die. Perhaps they could’ve saved them; possibly they could’ve had a chance; maybe if… and this is where he dozes off thinking about the infinite possibilities.
After what happened in Raccoon City, Leon knew he had lost faith. He knew things would never be the same after everything he saw that day. Sometimes, he finds himself thinking about Annette and William Birkin. He feels his body shivering when he remembers he had to fight for his life, clinging to something bigger than him. Survival.
II. RINSE AND REPEAT
He has no social skills, and doesn't know how to interact with people anymore. It all feels weird and uncomfortable, and it makes him feel terrible. Sometimes he feels like he’s stuck in time and can’t have a proper conversation with someone normal. The worst part of his life is that he feels he’s carrying a weight on his shoulders that it wasn’t supposed to be his in the first place. He has the weight of the world with him, and there is no one to help him through it. Life made him depressed, cold and distant. Life has built him this way; he's shaped himself into something he’s not, and he can’t find himself. He’s lost.
Leon can’t stop having nightmares about Raccoon City.
At this point, he just accepted that they wouldn't go away. It feels like he’s trapped inside his own mind, and there’s no turning back. Sometimes at night, he keeps looking at his ceiling imagining a different life, where he was a cop and happy. Usually, his nightmares are so dark and deep that when he wakes up, he finds solace in the sunlight, feeling relieved that he survived another night. When he doesn't sleep, when he’s too scared to close his eyes, he cries quietly, protected by the walls of his room, searching for assurance and a promise that everything will be fine. It doesn’t always work, but now he knows he can control his fears, and somehow, it helps him feel safe.
This time, his mission nearly got him killed. His entire body was full of bruises and wounds, and every part of him hurt. He felt his body swallowing a little, and he felt terrible again. He has blood under his nails, and he washes himself at least three times to make sure there’s nothing more on him than the burden of being a slave for the government.
Leon is paranoid; he can’t stand the fact that he has blood on his hands. If he sees a spot, he’ll clean it until there’s nothing left, and maybe he’s now too obsessed with the idea of being clean. It makes him feel sick to the bones, because he knows what he does and what it means. He knows that this guilt won’t be washed away like the blood on his hands, and certainly won’t get away from his head like it does from his clothes whenever he launders them. It’s a pretty shitty routine, but he’s used to it.
Now he finds himself in a very dark place; he can’t eat without feeling guilty. He can’t do the basics of his chores because he can’t stop thinking about his life, regretting every decision he made. Everything he does seems mechanical, like he’s repeating the process over and over again, a perfect killing machine that has no one to care about. On Fridays, he finds himself sitting on his couch, in complete silence, holding an empty bottle. He knows he can’t drown himself in alcohol, no matter how much he wants it or how tempting it sounds, because the liquid doesn’t affect him anymore. It doesn't make the pain go away or silence the horrors he saw during his life.
After three weeks inside his house, locked inside his room, Leon woke up with a strange feeling inside his chest. Something was telling him that this day would be different, like a big change would happen. For the first time in weeks, he decided to leave his place for a simple walk. He could do that; he could walk into the market and buy some real food or maybe get a haircut. He felt that he was able to allow himself to have an ordinary day.
After taking a long shower, Leon decided to wear cozy and comfortable clothes. He was so used to his brutal routine that he almost forgot what it was like to have a normal day, but this time, he was willing to try something different. He took a deep breath before leaving his house, and when he felt the soft, cold breeze reaching his skin, he knew he could do that.
Step by step, Leon found himself walking towards the market, even enjoying the lovely view he had from his neighborhood. He doesn’t remember it to be so… gray. Sure, he knows what winter is, but he doesn’t remember the last time he actually stayed at his home during the winter. His lips turn into a small smirk, and he thinks how silly he is. When he reaches the small market, which is more of a store, he walks slowly, looking at what he might be buying - he’s done with frozen food. He stops at the veggie section and keeps looking at it, confused.
“These aren’t fresh” a sweet voice is enough to wake him up from his trance. He looks in that direction, and all he sees is you.
“How can you tell that?” he asks you in visible confusion, which makes you smile. And that smile was enough to sparkle something oddly inside him.
“Color, smell, texture,” you explained, still smiling and showing him a fresh vegetable. “This one is fresh."
"Thanks,” Leon replied awkwardly, taking the vegetable from your hand and placing it in his basket.
“You don’t come here very often. I know almost everyone who comes to buy food here,” you said next, glancing at him with curiosity.
“I… have a busy schedule,” he says, still sounding awkward.
“Really? Well, you should definitely take some time to buy healthy food. I’m pretty sure you do a lot of workouts to keep your body in shape” you giggle, noticing the size of his muscles, which makes his face turn red.
“I’ll keep that in mind” Leon managed to say, although he wanted to dissipate from Earth.
“I can help with that” you suddenly said, analyzing him more carefully.
“With what?” Leon frowned, already feeling his heart beating ten times faster.
“I noticed you’re having difficulty with your right arm, which makes me think you got it hurt. If you’re planning to buy more, I can help with your bags” you offered, very polite and kind, catching him by surprise.
“Thanks” Leon says, finding himself smiling, which is unusual.
At first, having some company after so much time alone made him think it was strange. He wasn’t feeling ready to have a small conversation, but you didn’t seem bothered. In fact, you were enjoying walking to this stranger's house in complete silence. Fifteen minutes later, you were in front of his house in an awkward silence between the two of you.
“I guess this is it” you smiled at him, and Leon found himself lost in your smile.
“Yeah. Thank you” he said for the fifth time, which made you giggle a little.
“Anything for a customer” you said to him, giving him his bags. “My parents are the owners, so…”
“You don’t seem too old” he said, and after a second, he felt more weird. “I mean…”
“Nah, it’s ok. This isn’t the first time people say I'm younger than I look”. You smiled again, thinking that this old man was very silly and cute. “I’m 25, don’t worry”
“I’m Leon, by the way” He finally says his name to you, stretching his hand in a very educated way.
“Nice to meet you, Leon” you said before shaking his hand.
Leon took at least three weeks to return to the market.
His initial thoughts about you were that he definitely felt weird in your presence. Maybe he felt that way because of his lack of social skills and because he really sucks when the subject is social conversation. He caught himself thinking too hard about the visual and evident contrast between the two of you; you were young, bright and smart, with a great future ahead of you, and plus, you came from a loving family. Leon, on the other hand, was an orphan used and abused by the government, their pet and a man who only knew pain and brutality.
However, you were the first friendly face he saw after years. The way you were smiling and giggling at his awkward answers, it definitely made him feel something he thought he would never feel again. It was like you found the rookie cop inside him, and despite the fact that he barely said something, he felt normal around you. And that was more than enough. How could it happen so fast?
“How can I help you?” you said before noticing it was him. “Oh, hi”
“Hi” Leon is welcomed by that smile of yours. “I… um…”
“You came to buy more veggies?” you ask, still smiling at him. You think it’s cute to see him without any words.
“No… I just came because I’m looking for food seasoning” Leon said, his face slightly turning red. “I’m trying new recipes, so…”
“Yeah? What have you been trying?” you ask with sudden enthusiasm, leading him to the part with seasonings.
“Nothing too risky” he answers vaguely, following you closely.
“What kind of seasonings do you like?” You turn back to face him as you show him the shelves with different types of seasonings.
“I’m more into spicy flavors” Leon tells you, his attention going to the shelves.
“It suits you” you said, giving him some space. You saw him smiling again.
"How does spicy seasoning suit me?” he asks with a hint of curiosity.
“You might think I’m weird, but… seeing from outside, you look like someone with a rough agenda and, apparently, whatever you do is dangerous. Personally, I think you suit perfectly spicy things” you said, hoping it would make sense.
“I think I got your point,” Leon said, and then he found himself smiling for the second time.
“Lucky me, right?” you laugh, walking back to the cashier. “Is this all for today?”
“Yeah, I guess it is,” Leon nods, grabbing his wallet to pay for the seasonings.
“How’s your arm?” you ask, taking his money and counting it.
“It's better. I had to take a few painkillers, but it’s definitely better” he said, avoiding you for a few moments.
“That’s great. I know a few herbs to help with the pain” you said, giving him the change from his purchase.
“How so?” Leon asks with another hint of curiosity.
“A great sorcerer doesn’t reveal her secrets” you wink playfully at him. “You need to earn that, soldier”
“And how could I earn your secrets, great sorcerer?” Leon asks, enjoying your playful mood.
“Maybe you can invite me for dinner and show me your cooking skills” you shake your shoulders and, for the second time, catching him by surprise.
“You would love that, wouldn't you?” Leon said, and a slight smirk appeared on his lips.
“Who knows?” You wink playfully at him, with another suggestive smile on your lips.
The world has gone to hell, Leon thinks to himself.
He starts to contemplate everything that has happened to him. When did this madness begin? It was back in Raccoon City? Oh, no. It is way older than that. Maybe his collapse started when his family died, and he was left an orphan; what happened in Raccoon City wasn’t really the beginning of his nightmare. It was the cherry on top of the torments that would become his life.
Now that he’s coming back home from another mission, he can’t stop thinking how his life could’ve been if Umbrella had never happened. If those bioweapons were never created, defying every natural order. He looks outside his window, and he just can’t stop blaming himself for Tall Oaks.
What has become of this world? Leon thinks. Where did I go wrong?
His life is an entire mistake. It just goes on and on. His family first, then Raccoon City. Tricell, Los Illuminados, Uroboros and, finally, that nightmare at Tall Oaks. Leon takes a deep breath. He feels his hands shaking and closes his eyes, forcing himself to forget. How silly he is!
The future is a hell that’s only getting worse.
III. THE PAIN OF REMEMBERING
You weren't expecting Leon to find the note with your number that you left on his seasonings, the same way you weren't expecting him to call you.
However, something about him got your attention the minute he stepped foot inside the store. He wasn't like anything you had seen before; he was definitely something else.
After almost four weeks since the last time you saw him, you got a call from an unknown number. It was pretty late at night, but your curiosity won the battle within you, and you had to pick up the phone. With a groggy voice of sleep, you saw the number and frowned.
“Hello?” You ask, followed by a big yawning. It was one in the morning.
“Hi… um, it's Leon” he says with some urgency, to which you jump from your bed. “I'm sorry to wake you up”
“No, don't worry. I wasn't sleeping” you lied, forcing yourself not to yawn again.
“I know it's late, but… I was thinking about that dinner…” he says, sounding somehow hopeful. “Maybe you could come later and… talk?”
“Yeah, sure. Can you pick me up?” You ask him, and a smile appears on your lips as you answer him.
“Of course. At seven?”
“At seven, it is,” you smiled again.
As soon as the call ended, he was in complete shock. For some reason, Leon felt you wouldn’t accept his invitation, especially after being alone for so long. His heart was beating faster inside his chest, and he had to remind himself that it was just a casual date between… two friends? Could you possibly be his friend?
Leon felt anxious, something he only felt when he was on his missions.
Suddenly, the mere thought of having you at his home with him sounded terrifying. He felt like it would end in a complete disaster, and you wouldn’t see him ever again. Then, Leon had to stop and calm himself down, knowing it was his trauma trying to get the best of him. After everything he went through in his life, being able to trust someone proved to be a difficult task. He felt scared, and his mind was racing with thousands of different thoughts, each worse than the other.
Betrayal is the word that defines Leon.
He was betrayed before and multiple times, which left him with a lot of insecurities and traumas to the point he feels that he can’t trust anyone, which led to another set of insecurities. Leon feels that he isn’t enough anymore, that he can’t provide the proper attention someone might need from him, and that he can’t be in a relationship because of his problems. The truth is, he can’t be in a relationship until he leaves his trauma behind, and he knows it. That’s the easy part, but the hard one is how to let it go.
Later that day, Leon finally had the courage to clean his house. He needed some motivation to get rid of his depression, and nothing was better than finally allowing himself to have some company besides his solitude. His house smelled pretty good, everything was clean, and his furniture was even shining. He opened the curtains, and the sunlight entered his living room. He took a deep breath with the fresh air that came inside, and smiled, feeling somehow proud and happy.
At seven, you were waiting outside the store, scrolling through your phone, when you saw Leon approaching on his motorcycle. You were gorgeous, wearing a beautiful dress and covered by a black leather jacket — the perfect contrast that suited you well. Leon was completely mesmerized by the sight of you - so beautiful, he thought.
“Hey, there” you waved at him as he parked next to you.
“Hi,” Leon replies, sounding embarrassed. “You look beautiful”
“You too, handsome” you said playfully, taking the helmet from his hand and sitting behind him, your hands holding him tight. You didn’t notice the small blush on his cheeks.
"Are you okay back there?” Leon asks you, making sure you were fine before starting the engines.
“Yeah, I’m fine” you said, nodding your head, and smiling when he started to drive his bike to his place.
You two didn’t take long enough to reach his place. Leon offered you his hand so you had support to get out of his bike, and he even opened the front door for you. He led you inside his house, and everything inside was enough to show you the kind of man he was; his home was big, but simple. He had a lot of comfort there, but it seemed like he didn't spend much time at his place. You saw some photos at the fireplace, a few when he was younger, at some training camp with his possible friends.
“How old were you when you took these?” you asked him with curiosity.
“I was twenty-one” he said, grabbing the wine and the glasses.
“So young” you whispered, noticing that in some pictures, he was sad.
Leon took another deep breath. Why did this have to be so difficult? Why couldn’t he be just normal for once? Why did everything have to happen to him? You were standing there, so gracefully, observing his old photographs, so young and full of life, with no baggage with you. Someone actually happy and alive. If you knew how much he envies this.
“People say that our eyes are the windows to our soul” you turn to face him, noticing his sudden silence. “Yours are so sad and broken… what happened to your neck?”
Instinctively, his hand reaches his neck, and Leon feels the bandage perfectly secured on his skin, with a small spot of blood. Gladly, it was enough to change the subject, because he was shocked enough by what you said about his broken soul. If you only knew.
“I, um… got hurt on my job. It’s nothing.” Leon tries to avoid speaking about his past.
“It seems pretty bad” you step closer to him, your hand gently touching his bandage.
“It’s nothing… trust me” Leon smiles weakly, looking down. His heart is beating so fast inside his chest that he could explode any time. “I’m fine”
“Then explain why you are so nervous around me” you whispered, now softly touching his cheek.
Leon felt he stopped breathing, like his lungs decided to leave him alone and deal with the matter himself; how powerful your touch felt. It was enough to break every wall he built around himself for years; it was enough to make him break. And it was only a soft and kind touch. He slowly closed his eyes, his breath becoming normal again, and he allowed himself to just feel it.
“I don’t know what on earth happened to you…” your voice is full of kindness as you speak, now seeing him hold your hand as you keep touching his cheek. “But I’m always here if you decide to talk”
Leon was reaching his breaking point.
He was used to being a slave, always using his body, mind and soul to provide safety for the others without them knowing one damn thing about it; he was used to always being alone, to the point that kindness was a strange feeling, almost not existing at all and that he didn’t deserve it. But here you are.
“It hurts to remember,” he confessed, his voice a low whisper. “I tried to forget it, but I can’t”
When he felt you wrapping your arms around his body and your warmth embracing him, Leon felt his eyes getting wet. He was so deeply touch starved, craving something so human, that when he got it, he knew he was going to break. His mind was racing, and his body was trying to process the feeling and react in the proper way. He felt so many emotions at once that he thought he was going insane.
“Please, keep holding me” Leon begs, his arms finding their way through your back as he hugs you back. “Because I know I’ll fall if you let me go”
After that night, it took almost two months until Leon decided to show up at the store to see you again. He felt nervous, but at this point, he realized that, for some reason, he couldn’t stay away from you; he felt that you had some type of magnetism enough to keep him close, which made him feel comfortable, something he hadn't felt in a while.
However, before he went to the store to see you, he needed courage. Leon thought you would be upset with him after being ghosted for almost two months, although he felt responsible for it, since he never told you the nature of his job or why he was so absent. Sadly, Leon was again in a spiral of sadness and depression. His last mission was a disaster, and Leon knew he had no control over his feelings again. He was sitting on his bed, contemplating the bottle in his hands. The curtains were closed, and the atmosphere inside his room was darker. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, and then, he’s there again.
June 29, 2013. Tall Oaks, USA
“It might create more problems than it solves…” the voice of the president echoes inside his head as he points his gun towards the said person.
Leon doesn't recognize the man in front of him, or what he used to be. He keeps his gun raised, his grasp around the trigger getting tight by the second he makes his decision. His voice comes and goes, creating a tense atmosphere around him.
“Bio-organic weapons are a global threat and we are partly to blame…” Benford said once to Leon when he expressed his desire to expose the truth about the Raccoon City Incident. He looks at the living corpse in front of him. Tick tack. He knows what he needs to do. “I’ve always valued your friendship, Leon… It’s time to take responsibility and end this mess”
He shakes his head, somehow returning to his reality.
“Stay right where you are!” Leon said, his voice sounding cracked and angry. The corpse starts walking towards him and as a reflex, his grip gets more tight. “Mr. President!”
The zombie starts walking towards him and the woman next to him. He hesitates for a moment, unsure and sure about what he needs to do. Every part of him screams and begs, trying to find a solution. He knows it’s too late. He can’t save the president, he can’t save anyone.
“Don’t make me do this” Leon gritted his teeth, trying to find any reason to avoid what needed to be done. It happens fast. Adam Benford, the former president of the United States and now a corpse, throws himself towards her. “Adam!” Leon screams.
He pulls the trigger.
And there’s only blood.
He gets out of his thoughts when he hears someone knocking on his front door. It doesn't take too long for him to finally stand up and see who’s there, and, inside his mind, he’s already preparing himself to tell this person to leave him alone, but his entire demeanor changes when he opens the door, and all he sees there is you.
“You’re back” you smiled warmly at him, your cheeks red because of the cold temperature. “I wasn’t sure you were home”
“What are you doing here?” Leon’s first question isn't as welcome as you thought it would be.
“A friend can’t see a friend?” you answered simply, and the smile never left your lips.
“I’m sorry” he sighs, giving you space to enter his place. “I didn’t mean to be rude”
“Don’t worry” you said, removing your scarf and hat. “Are you ok?”
“I’m fine, I guess” Leon nods slowly, and you notice he’s not entirely well.
“Breakfast?” you ask him, wanting to confirm your suspicions, and he nods quietly.
You had difficulty finding yourself inside his place, since you’ve been there only once. You notice that he’s quiet, and despite that fact, which is completely normal for him, you know that there’s something wrong. So, you decided to go simple with his breakfast. Almost forty minutes later, you came back with a plate full of pancakes, crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, and some orange juice.
He leisurely used his knife and fork to eat the food you made. The careful manner in which he ate wasn’t due to his cautious nature, but rather because he had a terrible hangover that messed with his coordination, and rushing could easily lead to a slip of the hand and his shaking. Leon was a pretty man, and he could easily take on leading roles in Hollywood blockbusters. However, he currently sported a scruffy beard, exuded a weary atmosphere, and radiated fatigue and discontent.
“I think I reached rock bottom,” Leon finally says, but he avoids your gaze at all costs.
“Then I’ll help you get out of there” you said with kindness, your pinky finger interlocking with his.
IV. GRIEF AND BARGAIN
The path to healing isn’t always easy, and now Leon is aware of that.
The year is now 2014 and he’s struggling to forget what happened a year ago. Sometimes, when his mind is quiet, he starts to wonder. Is it possible that there could have been a world without Umbrella and zombies? Leon scoffed and shook off his sweet dreams. A world without zombies? That's something from a long time ago. The future is only going to become a worse hell. Then, he has to remind himself about the great things he has in life. You are one of these things.
Although he has your support, he knows that he’ll only get better walking this path by himself. The winter deciduous forest looked like branches made of human bones. A mixed forest with a walking path spread out. This is a high-end residential area in Bethesda, Maryland, where congressmen and bureaucrats commuting to Washington spend their nights. In the depths of a thicket, there was a slightly open gentle sloping area where the desired building was located. It was a designer house filled with a sense of openness, with all outer walls covered in glass, and it appeared like a model intended to showcase beautiful scenery rather than a place for people to live in.
The luxury was excessive to the point where it seemed somewhat like a toy. Leon had hidden himself in the thicket away from the road and was monitoring the designer house through binoculars with night vision capabilities. It was an unacknowledged fact, but a traitor to the country was living in this mansion. Senator Steven Air, who had sold information to a bioterrorist organization, was one of many government officials who had been involved in the incident in Tall Oaks where the President became a victim of B.O.W. Simmons, the President's aide, was among those who betrayed the government. And Leon still blames himself for what happened that night.
Currently, fifteen members of the Division of Security Operations (DSO) and two stealth drones have surrounded Steven's mansion. It was necessary to capture him and extract plenty of information before bringing him to trial. According to reports from aerial surveillance, Steven was on his way home by car from Washington. The distance from the White House to Bethesda was approximately twelve kilometers, and it would take about thirty minutes if he drove fast. Leon shifted his focus to his shoulder holster with a handgun. Of course, capturing him alive was best, but there was no hesitation in shooting the traitor if he resisted.
Leon suddenly remembers. This is Bethesda. The name is derived from the Bible. From the Gospel of John–
“Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda and which is surrounded by five covered colonnades. Here a great number of disabled people used to lie — the blind, the lame, the paralyzed. One who was there had been an invalid for thirty-eight years."
Jesus healed the man who had been sick for 38 years. God's love and His miracles. Bravo. That's exactly what this world needs in this hell.
"Target approaching."
As he thinks about the Bible, a communication comes through his earpiece. It's a report from the overhead surveillance team flying a drone. A roadway that weaves through a grove of mixed trees was approached by Stephen's white Porsche, an elegant luxury car resembling a graceful white swan. Perhaps dozens, hundreds of people may have died to buy that car. Such is the life of a villain.
"Visual on the target vehicle. Secure upon my GO signal," Leon whispered into his radio microphone. Both the earphones and microphone were of a bone conduction type that excelled in noise resistance. It converts vocal cord vibrations transmitted through the skull directly into voice signals. It was a perfect gadget for special operations where one couldn't make loud noises or miss instructions in the midst of noise.
The Porsche approached the garage.
"GO," Leon said sharply.
At that moment, two SUVs that had been hiding in a blind spot by the roadway started their engines like barking dogs and closed in on the Porsche at tremendous speed, trapping it in a pincer movement as planned. The driver of the Porsche was Stephen's secretary, with a bodyguard in the passenger seat and Stephen himself in the back seat.
Suddenly trapped from the front and back, they were thrown into confusion. Leon wondered – would the bodyguard or secretary resist? There was no doubt that they were carrying guns. He didn't want to give them unnecessary visibility, but he would deal with it when the time came. The agents jumped out of the trees. In the next moment, Stephen's Porsche exploded.
A deafening roar and shock. The high-performance explosive device planted under the car's body lifted the Porsche several meters off the ground, engulfing it in flames. And caught up in it, the DSO's SUVs overturned as well. The window glass of all the cars shattered into tiny pieces, the car bodies twisted and burned the people inside. All six agents from the team on foot, including Leon himself, were blown backwards by the force of the blast. Leon still thinks like he’s floating in the air, an eerie feeling of weightlessness that ended when he felt his body slamming against a tree trunk. In those fleeting moments, his consciousness waned, and it was the closest he had come to death.
Yet, it seemed the Grim Reaper was not yet ready to claim him.
Pain, intense and searing, jolted Leon’s awareness back to life, a grunt of pain escaping his lips. Leon struggled to his feet, and he threw up, retching repeatedly. His consciousness ebbed and flowed like waves, and he knew that rest was essential. Leon suspected that his ribs and collarbone were either fractured or cracked, but, fortunately, his arms and legs remained unbroken. Gritting his teeth, he managed to force his dislocated left shoulder joint back into place, enduring the excruciating pain, as he tried to work out which way was up.
There are bruises littered across his skin, scratches and abrasions where the bark of the tree tore his flesh. The shock of the explosion and the fear of death… an unpleasant feeling of internal organs turning over welled up. No matter how many times he experienced it, he could never get used to the terror of a close-range explosion. The air was knocked from his lungs; his breathing temporarily stopped; his eardrums were about to burst; and his knees were weak. He can barely stand. Leon finally sits up, willing his agent training to give him a sense of urgency even though his body is screaming in agony. The stench of gasoline fills the air, but Leon can barely smell it. His sense of smell and hearing are both almost gone. What the hell happened? Leon asked himself in front of the burning Porsche.
He feels paralyzed.
It was three in the morning when your phone started to ring.
It was an unknown number, and you had to fight the necessity of hanging up; something inside you told you to pick up the call, which you did. It was Leon, and the way his voice sounded on the phone made you aware that something bad had happened. Terrible, nonetheless. You drove to his location, and you found yourself shocked when you found smoke, fire and the smell of gasoline among a lot of government agents and military personnel. You found Leon sitting in the back of an ambulance, his body covered by a blanket, as he was examined by a paramedic. Not only that, but you had credentials to enter that isolated area, and the way those agents were rushing from one side to the other, talking on their phones, made it clear that someone important had died. You made your way towards Leon, not daring to look around, and when you reached him, you saw tears in his eyes. You hugged him tight, like you were holding the world in your hands.
“It’s ok, I got you” you said to him, your words full of assurance and kindness.
Leon refused to be taken to the hospital; instead, he asked you to drive him back home, since he felt he couldn’t do it on his own. The ride back to his place was silent, and you decided to respect his space, although you saw him trying to find solace in something real. He couldn’t stop playing with his finger, showing an elevated level of stress and anxiety. You have never seen him like this before.
“Can you stay?” Leon suddenly asked when you pulled over in front of his house. “I… don’t want to be alone”
“Yeah, sure” you nodded, noticing how vulnerable he was, which was odd.
You heard him groaning in pain once he got out of your car, but he refused your help, insisting he was fine. Knowing him well at this point, you gently held his hand, offering nothing but your support, and Leon quietly appreciated your effort. You helped him sit on his couch and heard him mutter something only he could understand. Judging by the look on his face and the way his hands were still shaking, you knew he was in shock.
“Do you have any first aid kits or something?” you asked him, hoping you would gain his attention.
“I’m fine” Leon replies, his eyes fixated on his shaky hands. You sat next to him, holding his hands and scratching his skin softly.
“It’s ok not to be okay." Your voice is almost a whisper as you look into his blue eyes. “You don’t have to be tough all the time”
You saw him reach the breaking point.
Feeling embraced by your kindness and safety, Leon finally allowed himself to feel his emotions — the same ones he fought hard to bury deep inside him — in the same place he swore he would never visit again. In the cozy atmosphere of his living room, having nothing but you as solace, the brunette agent gave himself a break, and when he did that, his eyes started to get watery.
After Raccoon City, Leon shut himself up so he wouldn’t be hurt ever again. He used to keep his emotions contained; he used to not think of them. He kept everything bottled up, because he knew he couldn’t handle it. Leon was so traumatized that the way he dealt with his feelings was to pretend they didn’t exist, in the first place. After Spain, it got worse. Nightmares after nightmares, the paranoia of still being infected with Las Plagas, everything that came after this.
But here you are, telling him that it is ok not to be okay, that he doesn’t have to be tough, and that it is okay to feel and to be vulnerable. He couldn’t stop sobbing; his hands were still shaking, but he didn't even care about this at the moment. Gently, you started to play with his hair, your fingers slowly going up and down on his head, providing comfort and care — exactly what he’s been missing his entire life.
“I lost them all” Leon started to say through sobs. “I saw them dead”
“It wasn’t your fault” you assured him with calm words.
“I failed them," he says as he looks at you, his blue eyes shining with tears as they fall through his skin.
“That’s not true. You didn’t know the car was about to explode or whatever happened there” You tried to calm him down.
“We were watching him; it was my responsibility to make sure they would be safe… it was my job to ensure that” Leon sobs again, and you can see he’s struggling to breathe due to his anxiety attack.
“Listen, you’re too nervous right now. Come on, take a deep breath with me” you said, hoping he would listen and cope.
Leon nods between sobs and takes several deep breaths to try to calm himself down. You took a glass of water and gave it to him, then you took his hand into yours, whispering words of assurance and kindness. You decided to put him to rest, and it wasn’t necessary to drag Leon into his bed; the moment you step foot inside his room, you can see how severe his depression is. Successfully, you were able to lay him down and remove at least his boots. Leon curled into his blankets and muffled his sobs with his pillows.
“Do you want me to stay here until you fall asleep?” you ask, sitting on his bed with him, moving his hair from his eyes. He nodded silently.
Slowly, his sobs turned into sniffs, and Leon finally fell asleep. It took almost an hour to calm him down completely, but now he was safe and sound into a peaceful slumber, or what appears to be. You don’t recall exactly when you fell asleep on his bed, but you certainly remember when you woke up to the sound of his screams. Leon never told you about his nightmares, and you weren’t expecting that. His chest was drenched in sweat, and he seemed like he couldn’t breathe. His eyes were filled with fear, and he was shaking head to toe.
“Fuck” Leon mutters, his hand running through his hair.
“What happened?” you ask him after turning the lights on.
“Just a nightmare…” he whispers, trying to calm down again.
“How frequent are they?” It was a bold question, but you needed to know.
“Every night” Leon ignores your glance, focusing on his shaky hands again.
“Here, drink it” you give him a glass of water with sugar to calm his nerves. You already had that glass with you the moment you went with him to his room.
“Do you even like me?” Leon suddenly asks you.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re so kind, beautiful, and young, with so much in your future” Leon sighs heavily. “Why would you be with a… broken man like me? I have nothing to offer but traumas and the big baggage of my shitty life”
The pressure you put on biting your lip was so intense that it was enough to cut your skin and make it bleed.
“Who says you have nothing to offer? I don’t think that’s true. You’re a wonderful person, Leon. I can see it every day when you come to see me at the store. The way you smile whenever you are around me, the way your eyes shine…” you said to him, hoping it would be enough to give him some comfort. “I don’t see you as a broken person or a man with the baggage of a shitty life. I can’t imagine what must have happened to you, and I know it must be difficult and hard because that's what I see, but, Leon, the darkness around you doesn’t define who you are. Whatever life did to you, it doesn't dictate your present or future."
No matter how many kind words you say, it isn’t enough for him. Leon blames himself for what happened, and you know he won’t forget it so soon. How can he? Those men trusted him and followed him, and now, they’re all dead. Leon thinks he should’ve saved them, even though he knows he couldn’t guess the car was about to explode.
“I wish I could heal your soul so you wouldn’t suffer anymore, but I can’t” you sigh, then look at his hand. “I wish I could fight all of your demons, but I can’t do that. I’m here and I don’t intend to leave you alone”
After holding his hand, it was the first night Leon actually slept without any more nightmares. When he woke up the next morning, he felt his eyes heavy and he instantly remembered how he cried the night before after his entire squad was murdered. Then, he also remembered that you were there with him the whole time. Finally, he noticed how strange that feeling was - the feeling of being comforted instead of comforting others. It was a strange feeling indeed, but it was a good one.
Lazily, he stood up from his bed and decided to look at himself in the mirror, washing his face and taking a moment to see the collateral damage caused by the bomb. There were a few bruises and cuts on his skin, but huge purple marks on his shoulder, which he dislocated. It still hurts, but it’s enough to keep him in the real world. He’s still alive.
“Morning, princess” you greeted him in his kitchen. “I made breakfast”
“You shouldn’t worry about that, y’know?” Leon says, leaning against his cabinet.
“Too late for that. Now is my job to worry about ya” you said, opening the cabinet above your head on tiptoe, which made him smirk. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yeah, I guess so” he says, nodding his head and helping you get the cornflakes. “Thank you… for sticking up with me last night”
“You know I care about you, right? Since day one” you glance at him with a warm smile. “I really do”
“I care about you, too” Leon blushes slightly. “More than I can tell”
You know Leon pretty well at this point and you know he has trouble speaking of his feelings. You know he can’t express himself properly, and you ain’t stupid. You know someone has hurt him before and you understand why he is the way he is. Fortunately, you are very patient, and that’s enough for now, because you don’t mind giving him time and space.
“I can look at your wounds; maybe I can help” you offered, finishing preparing the breakfast.
“This means I finally earned your secrets?” Leon asks, a small smile on his lips, as he references the conversation you had with him a few months ago.
“You surely did." You nodded, smiling. “Let’s eat first, then I’ll take a look at it”
Leon seemed to enjoy the breakfast you made for him, and, for the first time since you two met, he genuinely seemed happy. However, you knew deep inside he was trying and fighting hard to hide his true feelings; losing his squad certainly shattered him inside, and caused more damage to him than you could ever imagine.
Leon is a master when it comes to hiding his feelings. All over the years, Leon had built around himself an impenetrable shell, not allowing anyone to get closer, and all of that because he is scared of being hurt again. However, if the explosion never happened, if his men never died the way they did, Leon wouldn’t be pretending he’s fine when you know he’s not. The damage is so intense that you’re afraid he won’t recover. It’ll always be there with him, rotting inside him.
You weren’t expecting so many wounds all at once, but when he took off his shirt and you saw his bruised skin, you took a deep breath. He had so many marks, so many stories. You wanted to ask, you wanted to know, but Leon wasn’t ready to share it yet.
“I got this one back in Raccoon City” Leon quietly says, pointing to the scar on his left shoulder. “I got shot”
“How did this happen?” you decided to ask him as you gently cleaned a few cuts he had.
“I was helping a woman named Ada Wong to get a sample of G-Virus, and only a scientist named Annette Birkin had this sample. We were trying to find her and, when we did, she started to shoot Ada. I jumped in front of her, that’s why I got shot” Leon sighs, recalling the events that happened in the sewers.
“This Ada seems very important to you” you smiled at him, cleaning the other cut he had on his neck.
“She was, but it was a long time ago” Leon avoids your gaze. “Not anymore”
“She was the one that hurt you?” you ask him very carefully.
Leon didn’t answer, but his silence speaks for himself. You can see the extension of the damage and how Leon still struggles to deal with whatever happened between him and Ada. He stays silent, maybe trying to understand how his life turned into this mess. Then, he starts to count every time he was betrayed before until this very moment. His blue irises meet yours and all he feels is… peace. There’s no inner storms inside him, he feels completely at ease.
“If I ask you a favor…” Leon suddenly says, changing the conversation.
“What do you need?” you ask him without hesitation.
“Could you come with me to the morgue? There’s something I need to do” Leon sighs, preparing himself for what’s about to happen.
“Of course. I’ll tell my parents I’ll go to the store later” you nodded, quickly picking up your phone to text them.
Leon partially felt guilty, but you were so willing to go with him that he changed his mind after you helped him dress himself — the way he dislocated his shoulder still hurts and he has difficulty with it. You drove to the morgue and judging by the interior of the building, you found out Leon was some sort of agent working for the government. You were able to read the name of the organization. Division of Security Operations.
“So you’re a badass agent, huh?” you ask with enthusiasm as you walk next to him.
“I wouldn’t say I’m a badass” Leon chuckles, still feeling tense.
“Well, if you put your neck at stake to save your country, then you’re definitely a badass” you added, giving him a warm smile.
When you both stepped inside the morgue, he reached out for your hand, seeking any support you could give him. The back wall was a box-shaped cold storage room, and a row of dissecting tables lined the spacious room. And on those dissecting tables were numerous body bags. It's a body bag with the DSO logo on it. Do they really need a logo even on something like this? Irony floated within Leon's chest. Are they planning to sell products with the logo on them, like DSO-branded body bags, DSO-logoed cigarette cases, DSO-logoed pass cases...?
He walked between the body bags to the sound of his boots. Unlike normal bodies, the victims of b.o.w - related incidents were usually sent for examination to specialized research institutions. Although this time the cause of death was due to a bomb, not a zombie attack, the instruction from above was to send the bodies to various laboratories, so they followed suit. This DSO branch’s mortuary was a relay point for passing the bodies from the scene to the laboratory, like a baton in a relay race. It wasn’t easy to simply bury them in a graveyard. The morgue itself wasn’t scary, but the corpses were scary because they stimulated the imagination.
“Would they suddenly start moving? Would I end up like this too?” Leon thinks to himself a little bit loud, enough for you to hear him.
“You won’t” you whispered, squeezing his hand to let him know you were there.
Watching the corpses closely would cause a moment where the elongated shadows would appear like monsters. However, that was before Raccoon City. He had seen too many moments where the dead came back to life.
“I’m not scared of the mortuary anymore; recently, I’ve been thinking about it a lot” Leon frowned as he moved towards the back while swirling his thoughts. He thought he heard a sound from there minutes before.
“What do you mean?” you ask him with curiosity as he approaches one of the bags.
“I was constantly thinking about death and ending everything. I was depressed and thought I had no hope left” Leon confessed, his eyes locked on the body bags in front of him. “But now… I don’t think about that anymore”
He glances at you, finally. Slowly, his eyes meet your hand while you’re holding him and there’s a small smile on his lips, then his blue irises find yours again.
“I used to be scared of the morgue… but coming here with you… is something else” Leon says next. “I couldn’t do this alone”
“I’m glad I can help” you said to him with your usual kindness.
But he stops and turns his attention back to the body bags and sighs. His entire demeanor changed and suddenly, he found himself fighting hard to keep doing this. He needed that. He owed his men at least this final goodbye.
“What kind of adult did I want to become when I was a child?” Leon thinks to himself as he approached one of the body bags.
The zipper was slightly open, and the body bag seemed like it was about to move any moment. It’s common for something that seems like it’s about to move to actually move.
Leon carelessly closed the zipper. Was it because of the sharp sound that, suddenly, another body bag bounced behind him? Inside the body bag, the zombie was wiggling and struggling. It seemed unhappy, as if it had been woken up from a deep sleep by force. Leon pulled out his gun from his holster and squeezed the trigger.
“What kind of adult did I want to become? I definitely didn’t want a life like this”
V. ACCEPTANCE
After everything that happened with his squad, Leon knew he needed time off of his office. Decided to get his mind off everything and take a break, Leon chose the Rocky Mountains in Colorado as his destination. Instead of going there alone, he thought it would be good to spend more time with you, mostly because he felt safe around you and due to the nature of his job and everything he saw, he needed to feel that safety only you provided him.
You had to explain to your parents why you would be going on a vacation, but they understood with no problems; they didn’t know about Leon because you were fearing some trouble because of the age gap, so you felt they weren’t exactly ready to meet him. How could you explain to them you were apparently dating a man eleven years older than you? It would be one hell of a surprise.
It was 9 a.m. in the mountainous area near Rocky Mountain National Park, located in northern Colorado. The national park was about a two-hour drive from the state capital, Denver. Along the way, there were several viewpoints where numerous travelers parked their cars to enjoy the scenic beauty. Even in the mountainous region of the Rockies, the mountains around this area were not exceptionally high. They were just before the tree line, covered with spruce and fir trees on the subalpine slopes. The forest appeared like a beautifully groomed brush, while wildflowers bloomed modestly, sheltered by large rocks.
“This place is incredible” you sound mesmerized by the incredible view from the hotel.
“You haven’t been in places like this before?” Leon asks you with curiosity.
“I barely leave my house” you chuckle, leaving your bag on the bed. “I just work at my parent’s store and go to college”
“It feels like I’m dating a baby” Leon chuckles, also leaving his bag next to yours.
“We’re dating, huh?” you teased, taking off your sneakers.
“Yeah, we are” Leon nods his head, smiling. “I know I haven’t officially asked you, but I’m too old for that”
“It’s fine, old man. I’m just messing with you” you said, playing with his fingers.
“Old man? Now I’m offended” Leon teases back, smiling.
“You said it first” you replied to him, your hands reaching his brown hair. “By the way… I have something for you”
Leon glanced at you, frowning. The mischievous smile on your lips immediately told him you were planning something. He sat up on the bed and kept his eyes fixed on you, waiting patiently for whatever you were about to do.
“I got you a birthday present” you said with enthusiasm, catching him by surprise. “I know I’m a few days late, but I wanted to give you something for your 37th birthday”
“You didn’t have to” Leon whispered in shock as you gave him the small box.
He unwrapped the present you gave him and found a beautiful dagger, silver and shining, also pretty sharp. Leon knew immediately that you probably paid a lot on that and he felt bad. He took a deep breath and glanced at you.
“This was very expensive. You shouldn’t waste your money with me like that” Leon says to you.
“It’s a gift. You can’t give it back” you said to him, a hint of playfulness in your voice as you insisted for him to keep it.
“That’s not fair” Leon complains, laughing softly.
“It’s pretty fair to me, though” you said to him, smirking. “It’s just a dagger, not a diamond or something related. I know your job is kind of dangerous and you might need it”
“Okay, you win. I’ll take it” Leon sighs in defeat. “About my job… I know I haven’t been extremely open about it, but…”
“It’s okay, I don’t want you to feel forced to share this with me if you don’t feel ready” you stopped him before he could finish his sentence.
“I wish I could be more open to you” Leon glanced at his hands, feeling bad because of that.
“Start simple and small. You don’t have to tell me absolutely everything at once” you placed your hand on his shoulder, petting him.
“Simple and small? How could I do that?” Leon frowned at the idea. He always thought it was impossible to open up about his trauma.
You pondered for a few moments, thinking about a way to help him talk about his issues in a positive way.
“Start with something like… why don't you like dogs?” you suggested. A while ago you noticed Leon had a certain aversion to dogs.
“I… um… I was attacked by dogs in Raccoon City. They weren’t common dogs, they were infected, something like that” Leon found himself surprised by the way he spoke about this issue so easily. “Then, at Spain, I had a few encounters with wolves also infected with a parasite, monstrous things”
“See? That one was pretty easy” you said, encouraging him to keep talking. “Wanna try to say something else?”
Leon thought about your question for minutes; inside his head, everything that has happened to him was like an endless movie. The trauma, the pain and the events that seem to be haunting him to this day. It was hard to pick one, but then, he reminds himself of your words of being simple and small. He takes a deep breath and quietly, he convinces himself that he can do this.
“Back at Raccoon City, it was my first day at the force and I was 21 at the time” Leon starts, his eyes focused on something else. “I was late, but I think that’s why I’m still alive”
While he was telling you the horrors he saw, you gently placed your hand on his, to let him know you’re there for him. It was a simple and kind gesture, but for him, it meant the world. Leon was only familiar with danger and brutality, so having you by his side providing comfort was enough to penetrate the depth of his former persona. It was enough to rescue the rookie cop buried inside those walls.
“After that night… everything changed. I’m here because of what I did to survive and I’m not exactly proud of it. I can’t stop blaming myself for my past actions, but…” Leon suddenly stops, taking another deep breath.
“You can’t control everything around you, Leon. And not everything that happens to us is our fault. You couldn’t know you were going to be stalked and nearly killed on your first day… you didn't know that there was a virus outbreak in Raccoon City that night…” you said to him, placing your hand on his shoulder. “You need to understand that this isn’t your baggage to carry. What happened that day wasn’t your fault”
Leon had your words playing on repeat inside his head. Even though he was early in the morning drinking his sorrows away, he was still thinking about what you said. He also felt partially guilty for leaving you asleep in the bed while he was drinking, but the other part of him told you knew him pretty well and you wouldn’t be judging him for this. His head was a roller coaster and at this very moment, he wasn’t at the top.
Leon sat on the first floor of a lodge-style hotel in the rural town. The hotel was two stories tall, made of reinforced concrete, but designed to resemble traditional log construction. There was only one waiter and one chef, making it far from a trendy establishment — a rather run-down place. He was having breakfast in the first-floor restaurant. Though the restaurant wasn't popular, the food was decent. Approaching footsteps came from behind him — two sets of them.
"--To come fully armed to such a peaceful town," Leon said without turning around.
"Leon S. Kennedy, the ace of the DSO, a special agent organization directly under the President of the United States," a voice replied.
Finally, he turned around to see Chris Redfield and Rebecca Chambers standing there.
"Chris and... oh, the renowned expert in biohazard research, Professor Rebecca Chambers. What do you want?" he asked.
"It's work. Cooperate," Chris said in an uncompromising tone.
Chris and Rebecca sat across from him. And it was noticeable that he wore an annoyed expression.
"I'm on vacation."
"...In the past, while protecting the President's daughter, Ashley Graham, you fought and annihilated the cult group Los Illuminados. They were using special bio-organic weapons called Plagas," Chris said.
"I've forgotten about that old stuff," Leon replied simply.
"Do you plan on loafing around in this town for another week?" Chris asked.
"I don't know what will happen in the future," Leon retorted.
"Beer, please," Rebecca chuckled at the reference to an old movie, while Chris wore an unamused expression.
Leon called over a passing waitress with a casual wave to place his order, but Chris interrupted him.
"Cancel the beer."
"No, it's not canceled."
“Come on… what the fuck?!”
"I don't need any more alcohol."
"Cut it out. What's going on?"
"That's my line."
The waitress looked between the two of them suspiciously and before walking away. Eventually, Leon pulled out a flask from his back pocket and took a swig as a substitute for the additional order that couldn't be fulfilled.
"You–!" Chris leaned forward.
"Enough, both of you," Rebecca interjected. "--Leon. We apologize for disturbing your vacation. However, we need the information you possess," Rebecca said.
Finally, Leon showed a willingness to listen.
"...What's the situation?" he asked.
Chris and Rebecca had to explain to him what happened earlier at the university. The case was simple. Glenn Arias was a new threat and they needed to stop him at all costs. However, they didn’t know how Leon was suffering inside; they couldn’t know about the recent events. Leon wearily intertwines his gestures and continues,
"Just before I took my vacation... I was involved in a DSO mission in Bethesda to apprehend a treacherous senator who was selling internal information to a bioterrorist organization."
The disgusted irritation was evident in his movements, his expression, and his voice.
"You know..." Leon begins. "Here's the thing: the informant we used betrayed us. We fell into a trap instead. A massive explosion killed many of my colleagues... and then there was the incident with the resurrection of the corpses you guys were involved in... It's all a mess,"
Leon explains, letting out a heavy sigh. It's a sigh that escapes unintentionally, like a burden he carries.
"I had planned to become a police officer in Raccoon City. It was my dream job. But on my first day, there was a massive zombie outbreak, and from there... it never stopped," Leon pauses and shakes his head. "I've been fighting this whole time. There's no end in sight, and it only keeps getting worse. Have I been living just to fight zombies and the people who create them?"
"What are you trying to say? That you don't want to cooperate with us?" Chris asks.
"It's not that..." Leon's tone is uncertain, "Well, maybe it is."
With a hesitant tone, Leon continues
“What exactly is our goal? How far do we have to run? Do we have to keep running endlessly? The villains keep coming, one after another, while the good people keep dying. Maybe it's better to lose our minds."
Then, Chris found himself forced to explain to Leon what they were facing. He showed pictures of Cathy White, the agent that was turned into a bio-weapon. And worse, her son she killed. He showed the photos taken during the autopsy and how Glenn turned people into something else purely because of power.
"Killing him is the goal," Chris declares.
"That's only your goal, not mine," Leon retorts, his voice filled with resentment.
Tension fills the air between them once again.
"Hey," Rebecca interrupts, breaking the silence just as she did before. "So, Leon, you're exhausted," Rebecca points at Leon and then gestures to Chris. "And Chris, you're frustrated. There's one thing both tired people and irritable people have in common."
"What do we have in common?" Chris asks in response.
They both look at each other with a wide-eyed grin.
"You only think about yourselves," Rebecca replies.
"I–" Chris tries to interject, but Rebecca continues.
"Chris, all you talk about is wanting to kill Glenn Arias. After helping me, you didn't say a single word mourning the sacrifices of our colleagues. Leon, you're acting like a college student in their moratorium period. People get tired of running. But if we stop running, more people will lose their lives."
Rebecca takes out a trigger-activated needleless syringe from her small bag. In front of the bewildered duo, she abruptly presses the syringe against her left forearm and pulls the trigger, causing her blood to collect in the test tube attached to the syringe.
"I'll tell you something important. We're already infected," she says.
"What?" Leon's expression tightens in response.
Rebecca continues speaking in a tone reminiscent of a teacher addressing a poor student.
"The truth is, it's difficult to estimate just how many people have been infected by Arias' new virus. The problem is, we don't know the identity of the trigger that activates it."
As she speaks, Rebecca removes the test tube from the syringe and seals it with a cap.
"The virus is activated by something only Arias knows. When that happens, the dead rise, and living humans become bio-weapons."
Rebecca glances lightly at Leon.
"If things continue like this, this city will eventually become a living hell. There won't be any safe places."
Leon remains silent, averting his gaze.
"Just so you know, a prototype of the antivirus has been developed," Rebecca says. "It actually worked on me. However, the effectiveness of the antivirus is unstable without knowing the conditions for the activation of Arias' virus. When to administer it and how long it remains effective..."
Rebecca then places the sealed test tube into a small protective case and puts it on the table.
"My blood should provide valuable data. If I die, make sure it reaches a reputable research institution that you can trust."
"You're not in danger. We'll protect you," Chris says firmly.
There’s a slight smirk on Leon’s lips as he hears that.
"The forefront of pandemic response is not the BSAA, but the research field. How many doctors and colleagues do you think I've seen die in conflict-ridden African countries or small Middle Eastern nations used as testing grounds for bio-weapons?" Rebecca questions.
Chris tries to say something in response, but his voice gets stuck in his throat, and only faint breaths escape.
"After I left the team, you two might have fought against plenty of mad scientists. But science can only be countered with science. Unless benevolent technology advances, we will never have a chance of winning. We fight not only for ourselves but for others. Have you both understood at least a little of what I'm saying?" Rebecca asks.
She stands up and adds, "Cool your heads," before leaving her seat.
"She's a great woman," Leon comments.
"We can't handle it on our own," Chris remarks, watching Rebecca leave, and he and Leon exchanged a wry smile.
And then, here it comes. The urge to talk about what happened one year ago.
"Leon, China was tough," Chris says, referring to that incident.
"Yeah, it was like a zombie version of Black Hawk Down." he nods in response.
"At that time, I wanted to quit the BSAA so badly," Chris admits, surprising Leon, "After getting involved with Umbrella, I witnessed too many deaths. We..."
Chris trails off. His expression was heavy, as if lead had settled in the depths of his heart. Then Chris realized: Why does it make me so angry to see him like this? He was too much like his old self.
"It makes you want to quit... makes me want to quit," Chris says, emphasizing his point. Leon falls into silence. And Chris delivers the final blow. "But, the moment we quit, all of our subordinates and friends will have died in vain. We are the survivors of Raccoon City. We carry that burden."
Chris falls silent, and the air becomes still. The waitress looks annoyed by the silence. For a few moments, there’s nothing but the said silence.
"Leon, I always thought you were a cheerful guy no matter what," Chris breaks the silence.
"No one is like that," Leon replies, “Well… I’m not. I've always been a stress-tolerant guy. I've been able to do what I've done because of it. But now look back on it. In Tall Oaks, I killed the president.”
"Technically, you had to save the President infected with the virus," Chris quickly adds, trying to provide some context.
“But,” Leon shakes his head, "But the fact remains that I pulled the trigger, I shot him, and I was even suspected of assassinating the President afterward. Although I managed to clear my name, the mastermind behind that incident turned out to be the President's aide. The DSO was once called the 'Sword of the President,' but now it sounds ironically fitting."
Chris remains silent, attentively listening to Leon's words.
"Chris," Leon continues. "I've returned to active duty, but every time I face the new President, I feel anxious. I can sense his unease as well. The President's aide had sold his soul to B.O.W. terrorism. Who's next? The Secretary of Defense? The Vice President? What's become of the foundation that supports the soldiers in the field? They keep using us, while the higher-ups continue to flounder, grow bloated... They only think about shifting blame onto others."
He pauses for a moment. There’s so much pain.
Leon furrows his brow and lowers his voice. "Perhaps the reason entities like Umbrella persist is that our society harbors a fundamental evil... I can't help but feel that way now."
Even agreeing with this stupid mission, Leon can’t go without saying goodbye. He feels guilty, but the moment he sees you, everything feels completely right. He sat at the bed, watching you perfectly asleep, imagining what kind of dreams you were having. Leon sighs and shakes his head.
“Hey, sweetheart” Leon says when he sees you waking up.
“Hi” you whisper, rubbing your eyes.
“Listen… something happened and my colleagues need me. Will you be okay here?” he asks you, his thumb trailing your cheek.
“Will you come back?” you ask him, sounding a little groggy.
“And leave my baby girl here all alone? Of course I’ll come back” he smiles sweetly at you.
“Ok… I’ll be here” you nodded your head, closing your eyes to go back to sleep.
Something about you made him see, for the first time, the bright side of things. Maybe it was the fact that you were younger than him, and also the fact that you were full of energy - he was just an old and bitter man. But, hey, he’s learning how to cope with every shit that has happened to him.
Before you, Leon was ready to die.
He was ready to embrace death, he already had made peace with his inner demons. But everything changed when you came into his life. Suddenly, he thought he could live and find happiness and death wasn’t in his thoughts anymore. It was like you were able to bring him back from his darkness. He wasn’t rotting inside. You were able to rescue him from himself and return the light he needed.
But if he thought he wasn’t close to death, he was wrong. Leon never thought he would face something like Glenn Arias and come close to death, but he had his job to do. Chris needed his help and Leon finally found closure to something that was weighing on his head; the death of his squad wasn’t his fault and he found the real culprit. He found the peace he was desperately looking for. And he was able to see another sunrise and come back to you.
It was a repetitive cycle. Leon recently started to wonder if anything he did was futile. That's why he took a vacation and drowned his sorrows in alcohol. It was a kind of protest, perhaps. A protest against the grand concepts of this world and destiny. A statement of "I’m not going on like this forever, I’m not going to do it," or something of that sort. But fate was cruel. In the end, human life rarely goes well by one's own choices. Perhaps humans are merely chosen by fate without their consent. Yet, Leon now felt that it was okay like that. Being chosen doesn't make him a hero by default. He becomes a hero reluctantly because he was chosen. And that's fine.
The merged form approached Leon with an eerie growl, swinging its massive fist. Leon leaped back to dodge it, and the merged form's punch shattered one of the spires on the rooftop into tiny fragments. It had the destructive power of a construction hammer, with each strike resembling the impact of a tank cannon round. Leon intentionally slid and jumped into the merged form's feet, thinking that at such a large size, close range might become a blind spot. He positioned himself beneath the massive body, lying on his back and firing his handgun. The shots were practically point-blank, but they were still deflected by the hardened muscles and exoskeleton.
"Doesn't matter," Leon muttered involuntarily. "I'll do whatever it takes, even if it's futile. Today's a good day to die anyway."
The merged form kicked out.
The enemy's movements were deceptively swift, and Leon was sent flying as if hit by a car. His body tumbled through the air until it finally collided with a gargoyle statue, coming to a stop. The impact was so intense that his breath nearly ceased. However, the merged form continued its pursuit. It threw a straight punch, a blow that would surely result in instant death if landed, but Leon managed to evade it with a jump. Not only did he dodge it, but in mid-air, Leon twisted his body and unleashed a spinning kick. His boot-clad foot connected with the grotesque face of the merged form.
Whether it would have any effect or not didn't matter. This strike was my will. Of course, a kick from a mere human wouldn't have any effect. The merged form retaliated with its opposite hand, grabbing hold of Leon.
"Gah!" A groan escaped Leon's throat involuntarily. The massive fist tightened around him like a vice, and within a few seconds, he felt himself being crushed like a tomato.
"Leon!" Chris emerged from the penthouse.
In his fading consciousness, Leon thought about you. The way you smiled whenever you were with him and the sweet perfume you love to use. The way your hands embrace him at night, helping him sleep safely, without any nightmares to harm him. And then, he doesn’t want to die anymore. Please, God, don’t let me die this way.
Chris picked up the fully automatic handgun that Arias had dropped along the way and unleashed a barrage of bullets at the merged form. For a brief moment, it seemed like the merged form's focus shifted, and its grip loosened slightly, but that was all.
Was my life meant to end here, crushed by this grotesque monster? Leon wondered, his pessimism threatens to shatter him. Leon wasn't the type to easily get this depressed or overthink things too much. Still, he felt more than a little exhausted.
What kind of adult did I want to become when I was a child? I never imagined I would be burdened with the stigma of assassinating a president. At least, I didn't want a life like this ― It doesn't matter what I want. There's no such thing as a person who can live the life they desire. Arias must have felt the same way. In the end…
VI. ABSOLUTION
When he came back, you noticed something inside him had changed.
After the fight with Arias, Leon noticed that life was much more than death, darkness and depression. At least, he started to think like that when he almost got killed. And his only thought was coming back to you. No, he couldn’t die like that and leave you alone. His arm was injured, but he was alive. And he was back.
“What happened to your arm?” you asked him when you saw him entering the room.
“Remember that day in the morgue when you told me I was a badass government agent?” Leon asks you back, sitting on the bed next to you.
“Yep, I do” you nodded, starting to massage his tense muscles.
“Well… I’m not this kind of agent. I work under the president’s orders. I fight bioweapons for a living… since that hell in Raccoon City” Leon sighs, finally opening about his job.
“Bioweapons? Like zombies and shit?” you ask him with curiosity.
“Worse than zombies, but yes” Leon nodded with a slight smirk. “It’s dangerous, and this time I nearly got killed… thing is, my job requires a lot of my time, it forces me to not be around for God knows how long. It scares me because I don’t know if you can live this chaotic life with me…”
“Wait, wait, wait… slow down” you held his hand and squeezed it softly. “Everyone deserves a second chance in life, Leon. You were alone for too much time and I don’t mind if you need to go somewhere else to fight bioweapons. If this means I get to see these pretty eyes of yours and this sweet smile every time you come home… I’m willing to live this chaotic life with you”
Leon couldn’t believe your words. After being deprived of something so human and getting used to it, Leon felt he was about to explode. It was too much for him to handle. At this point, he knew perfectly he was experiencing anxiety. But it was a good one.
“I don’t want you to get hurt. If we do this, I’m gonna get you wrapped up in something bad someday… and I’ll never forgive myself if this happens” Leon tells you, sounding extremely worried.
“I know you won’t let anything bad happen to me. And besides, I can take care of myself. I made self defense classes” you laugh sweetly, a symphony to his ears.
“Are you sure?” Leon asks, and those big puppy eyes of his wanting nothing but assurance.
“Honey, if this wasn’t true, I wouldn’t be here” you chuckled, kissing his forehead.
After what happened, you decided to introduce Leon to your family as your boyfriend. But before that, you convinced him he needed to improve a little. Getting rid of the alcohol was the first step. He started to see a therapist and work harder on his issues, which influenced a lot of your relationship. He was more happy and willing to do things he and you both liked. One year after that incident with his squad being killed and his mission with his friends, you noticed he was ready to meet your parents.
“I’m nervous” Leon tells you when you both were entering your home.
“Why? It’s not like we’ve been dating secretly for almost three years. Besides, they’ll think you’re cute, don’t worry” you giggled at him.
“I’m not so sure about that” he muttered, following you inside your parents place.
You could clearly tell how anxious he was. However, he always felt at ease on your side, and it was like you had the power to make him relax, like nothing could harm him and the world was finally at peace. When you stepped inside the house with Leon right behind you for a Christmas dinner, your parents were already expecting both of you.
“Mom, dad… this is Leon. The guy I was talking about” you introduced him to your parents with certain expectations.
“You clearly got my taste for man” Leon heard your mom whispering to you, which made his cheeks turn red.
“So… um… how long are you two hanging out?” your dad asked and you glanced quickly at Leon.
“Three years, I guess. We met at the store” you tell your parents. “I didn’t tell you before because Leon has a busy schedule. He’s not always in town, so…”
“Well, moonpie, if you’re happy, we’re happy too” your mom says with a gracious smile on her lips.
Leon wasn’t expecting to be so welcomed into your family, but the fact that your parents treated him so kindly melted his heart. He got himself thinking about the dinner for at least one week, mostly because part of him was still thinking it was weird to receive so much kindness and affection, especially coming from a real family. He wasn’t expecting to be playing cards with your dad while you and your mom were in the kitching talking about girl’s stuff, but it was enough to make him see he made the right choice. That it was okay for him to finally experience love.
“I like your light brown hair now that you finally stopped dying it” you said, sitting between his legs in the living room.
“My emo era is over” he chuckles sweetly, like a melody.
“May it rest in peace” you made the signal of the cross. “
“Changing the subject, tomorrow I gotta go to San Francisco. Work stuff” he says to you, softly kissing your neck.
“Yeah? Am I getting some gift?” you whisper, feeling the shivers down your spine with his lips against your skin.
“Do I ever go on a mission and come back empty handed?” Leon asks you, his soft lips pressing more against your neck and you can feel him softly biting you.
The thing is, Leon is like a porcelain doll. He needs to be treated with softness and kindness, because deep down, he is vulnerable. The way his lips met your skin was a clear sign that he was ready for you. He was finally ready to be yours. However, loving Leon also needed patience, and after three years, you could tell he wanted that too.
“Do you want to do this before you leave, handsome?” you ask him teasingly, holding his hands as he keeps kissing your neck.
“Yes, I do,” he nods, almost moaning in your ear.
He gently took you to his bedroom, the place was almost a sanctuary for him. He laid you down on his bed and removed his shirt, and this time, he didn’t seem ashamed of himself. You stood up from his bed and sat him on the edge, your hands trailing down his skin like he was a roller coaster. He closed his eyes, his breath soft and calm, although he anticipated what was about to happen. Leon craved for you.
“I’ll take care of you” you whispered, leaving soft kisses across his neck and chest.
You sat gently between his legs, your sweet and soft fingers removing his pants and reaching his already hardened cock. He sat there, observing you with those big and blue puppy eyes, like he was savoring your image. When you took all his length inside your mouth and gently started to suck him, Leon felt he was in heaven. It felt so good, so powerful.
Tears started to fall from his eyes and he cried. Not because you were hurting him, dear lord, of course not! It was because he finally felt that he deserved to be loved. Your tongue did an amazing job on his cock and when he came, he felt his body at ease. Leon moaned with the sudden sensation, it was stronger than he last remembered. But it was because of you.
“I love you” he says when you touch his face, wiping his tears.
Loving Leon needed patience, you knew that already.
However, living with him brought new challenges that you weren’t expecting at all. He would be gone for weeks, then he comes back out of nowhere. He always forgets to send you a message to let you know he’s coming back, but that’s okay, because his lack of patience to deal with technology amuses you. He always sends an emoji out of context, which makes you laugh and you find it very cute when he gets disappointed for misunderstanding those little and yellow faces. He’s getting there, don’t worry about that.
When he’s at home, things turn out differently. He always helps you with the chores, likes to tease you whenever you’re cooking his favorite meal and at the end of the day, you two are together on the couch watching some silly movie while he complains about it and softly scratches your leg. Sharing a domestic life was something he never thought he would have, not after everything he went through alone.
Now that he's back from whatever he did in San Francisco, you have another job to do. Tend to his injuries. It’s a small sacrifice to pay whenever he comes back hurt; this time he has purple marks all over his body and face. You don’t ask what on earth happened, because you know he can’t really give details, but at least he’s safe and sound with you again.
“Stop moving, old man!” you tell him, trying to clean a small cut he had on his neck.
“That hurts,” Leon replied back, flinching slightly.
“I know, but someone has to clean it” you rolled your eyes, applying a Barbie band-aid on his neck.
“Please, don’t tell me I got the Barbie thing on my neck” Leon closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.
“Next time I’ll get you a cat one” you wink playfully at him.
After so many death experiences and the inner wish of being dead, he’s glad that he found the absolution that he always wanted. He looks at you with amusement, part of him finds it hard to believe that he’s so lucky to have you, but the other part is glad that you are real and you love him for who he really is. You took every damaged part of him and loved with such intensity that it was enough to bring him back from that dark place he was at. He forgave himself, allowed his soul to heal and to be loved. Life had gifted him with the second chance to live, made him see the beautiful things again. You took him in when he was on the lower part of his life, and your love brought him back. He knows he’s getting older, but he doesn’t mind spending his days with you, because you are the only thing in his life that makes sense.
Summary: The beauty of change is acceptance it will always happen. Leon's a man of many secrets but after one to many close calls he finally breaks needing you to help hold him together.
Words: 4k
Thank you @shymoob for beta reading again ily, also sorry in advance I just needed him to have a big cry....
Salvation. That's what he heard over and over again in Spain. Whispers in his head as he felt the parasite spread throughout his body, infecting each one of his nerves. It was a promise he would be eager to take now. Salvation from his sins. From the lives he couldn't protect, for the people he couldn't save. All of them now forever linger in the creeping darkness of his bedroom; the moonlight that filtered through his blinds wasn't enough to keep them away. It felt wrong to pray for something good as if he should even be given that option when he feels like all he has done was wrong. Mistakes that could have been prevented, saved people that didn’t have to die for him.
Leadership was something he always rejected, the responsibility of everyone's lives felt too much. Maybe that's why when it was one of the few times he was in charge, an entire squad of eager people behind him – died. It wasn’t his fault, there were forces out of his control but that just felt like an excuse now. He’s been through too much, repeated a situation twice, fought off literal nightmares that should have stayed as sketches in a horror movie storyboard.
Shouldn’t he have learnt by now? To expect things to go wrong, prepare for them.
You didn’t deserve this, this man he had turned into. It was never what you expected him to grow into when you were younger. In college where you bunked together after a bad day; spending the night holding each other as you stared up at the ceiling wondering what the future had to hold. Pinky promises to always be there for each other no matter what.
Life wasn’t that kind however. He knew that now, it was never going to be kind to him. He was a fool for thinking it would be. Even more of a fool that he now stood at your front door.
The rain drenched him, his dark hair sticking to his face. His body ached, his chest covered in bruises from things he couldn’t lie about anymore. The secrets that he kept from you for years were threatened to spill out tonight, perhaps that's why he showed up here. It didn’t matter how hard he tried to protect you from this backpack of trauma that he shouldered everyday. It would just be another thing he was going to fail.
It was late, he intended on going to a bar finishing the rest of his vacation deep in the bottle like he started before it was interrupted. His knuckle was curled hovering in front of the wooden door that separated him from you. From your embrace and kind words, the distraction he had pushed away for so many weeks in favour of a crappy resort with alcohol. The distraction he should have leaned for in the first place. He couldn’t help it, pushing you away. He didn’t want to stain you with the blood on his hand.
He knocked. Just once. His hand hidden in his pocket quickly, hiding the scrapes that decorated his fingertips.
You wouldn’t answer, normal people were asleep at this time. People who weren’t plagued by nightmares like he was. Maybe he could sit here instead, looking out at the plants you decorated the porch with as he waited until a more reasonable time. The rocking chair in the corner looked cosy enough to sit there for a while.
He didn’t get a chance to make up his mind, not when you opened the door. A gasp leaving your lips as you looked at him. “Bar fight?” You asked, your warm fingers examining his face, touching the cold skin of his cheek. He flinched slightly, the bruise that still lingered was tender to the touch. “You should see the other guy,” He joked. He was always good at that, getting a laugh out of you whilst using his humour to hide the turmoil inside.
You guided him inside, held his hand tightly like he was going to suddenly decide to leave. It had been months since you had seen him. The last point of contact was a blunt text about being out of town, nothing unusual in terms of news but it was the bluntness of the text that had planted a seed of worry that spread throughout your brain. You trusted him and knew his work was intense.
He had never been the same since he left for Raccoon City to start at the RPD, returning to you a few nights later with a hollow look in his eyes and some crappy excuse as to why he returned. You knew something was wrong then, with how he was now flinching at the sound of the weather, at the sound of dogs barking or if you walked too loudly throughout your apartment his head would shoot up with alarm. The day that he returned was the same one that he shut you out, kept you away from everything that went on inside in an effort to hide the fact he had changed. That he wasn’t the Leon you knew before.
“Do you need anything for the bruises? Or have you already treated them?” You asked him, ready to grab the first aid kit if he needed it. You watched as he gave you a delayed response, a small shake to the head. He sank onto the sofa, the cushions swallowing his form in comfort. With his blank expression it was clear his mind was elsewhere, stuck in some far away world that you didn’t know if you could pull him out of.
You sat next to him, laying your hand on his gently. It was only then being this close you could see the struggle he had in his eyes, the inside fight he was going through. “Leon, we aren’t kids anymore. You can talk to me” You whispered. His hand was stiff as you held it, your fingers ran along the back of it in soothing circles, going over the new scrapes and playing with the older scars that littered them. Each one holding a story you knew nothing about.
“I– want to but I can't,” He whispered, his eyes never leaving your hands. Leon flinched at the sound of your sigh, your gentle frustration. He knew that with some more prodding he would have caved this time, and spilled everything he has kept inside for years in some babbled mess. You never pried for information, instead you smiled softly at him guiding his face back to yours.
It hurt him to feel all this pain, it came crashing against him wave after wave. Suffocating him in a tight grip that it was always too much, nothing worked as well as alcohol to numb it even for a short while. However tonight, this was the longest he had been sober, his hands shaking with the need to fill them with a glass of something but instead they held onto yours. Tightly.
His eyes were so sad, like a puppy that had been scolded for doing something wrong. “I understand, would you like to shower and stay the night instead? I think I have some shirts and sweatpants I stole from you” You offered, your weight now leaving the spot besides him to stand and hold out your hand. A lifeline, a slither of hope. At least that’s what it was for him. Leon smiled slightly before nodding and following you. He watched as you rummaged through your wardrobe, holding out the clothes and a towel. “You didn’t just steal my clothes but also my favorite ones”
“Can’t help it when they are comfy”
He had showered before he came a quick one so that he didn’t smell of sweat and blood like he did when he sat on the helicopter. However, being surrounded by the smell of your shampoo and bodywash sounded perfect right now. As he welcomed the warmth of the shower spray, Leon found himself thinking of Arais’ reasoning.
Let the world burn for what it did to mine.
In some twisted way he understood the man – not enough to destroy the world himself, his moral compass was too strong to resort to that. But instead following along with the thought of what if something happened to you? He knew he would then struggle to know what to do with himself. He really won the jackpot with you, everything he did was to ensure you never saw the horrors he did. To not be reminded of their gruesome features when you sleep, you deserve to live in the warmth of this house. A safe place you had created not only for yourself but for him as well.
You have always been there to cheer him up and help him, whenever it was offer a place to sleep when the boys at the orphanage he shared a room with were mean one night, sneaking him through your bedroom window just to hold each other, or during college when you would be on the sidelines encouraging him to beat his best time as he ran around the track.
You were the cheerleader he needed, the sunshine in his cold, dark world.
The clothes you had given him were slightly looser on his body, most of his muscle he had gained in his 20s now shredded by his poor upkeep. Most of his fulfilling meals came from you, the pasta dishes were always his favourite.
When he approached the living room he spotted you pulling out the sofa for him, struggling to keep the fitted sheet on the corners as you adjusted the next one. It was amusing to watch, it always was. The blue flowers that decorated the linen were always a perfect mixture of the two of you. He used to grimace at the sight of the feminine bed sheets but today he didn’t seem to care. Not when he smelt your wash powder as you shook them out.
“There, do you need anything else?” You asked him, your arm touching his forearm guiding his attention away from the bed back to you. He still wore the sad look, his face now pink from the hot water. Few of the dark strands still fell over his eyes, but he looked somewhat refreshed and that was enough for you. Leon muttered a small thank you before shaking his head. His hands awkwardly at his side waiting for the hug you alway gave him before bed when he would come to visit. It was all about the little things with you.
You felt him cave when your arms wrapped around him, his body sagging against yours, his arms trapping you close in an attempt to hold you into him. “Are you sure you are okay?” you whispered into his shoulder, squeezing his form tightly like you were attempting to pour your love into him that way. He didn’t respond. His silence was enough of an answer anyway.
With yet another soft smile you pulled away, cupping his face. You watched as he pressed the cheek further into your hand, subconsciously chasing your touch after rejecting it for so long. “Goodnight” He whispered, pressing his lips against your soft skin with a timid smile.
“Goodnight leon”
He watched your frame walk away towards the bedroom, listening for that soft close of the door watching the light that slowly leaked out across the hallway floor disappear, leaving him now again in the darkness. The sheets were comforting at least when he slipped in them. He would stomach the springs and divots in the sofa to be surrounded by the scent of you. The pillow was always too soft for him, his head sinking down far too much for his liking but as exhaustion crept in he didn't care. His eyes shut slowly, succumbing to the darkness and for the first time in years doing it sober.
The whimpering is what you heard first, quiet and muffled through the door of your bedroom. You knew what it was, who it was coming from. You were quick to get up, wrapping your robe around yourself as you quickly ran to see him. The lamp that flickered on awoke him from his dream, half of his body hanging over the edge of the sofa, his hand touching the soft rug. You watched as his eyes widened in realisation before he shot up scooting away from the edge before curling into himself. Leon brought his knees to his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around them. It broke you to see him like this, to watch the broken man that tried so hard to hide it from you despite the tears that ran down his eyes.
You didn’t call out to him, only walked in front of him. Your hands a firm touch on his knees as you brought his attention back to you. “Oh leon…” You whispered as bought him close to you, cradling him into your chest as he cried. Finally cried. After so many years of holding it together. He seeked your comfort like an injured child would to a mother. Claimed your body as his source of comfort whilst he wept. His tears weren’t silent, no matter how much he tried for them to not be. The sobs that left his lips were sure to be heard from outside the house.
You didn’t ask him to explain or lift him away from you to wipe the tears away. Instead you held him closer like you were trying to squeeze them out of him. Drain him out of any bad emotion so you could refill him with your love instead. His sobs soon turned into small hiccups, his shoulders shaking off the final stray whimpers. You had questions, they lingered in the air and rightfully so. It wasn’t everyday that someone you loved, someone who was always so strong like Leon, broke down like this.
He could feel the shake of your chest with every inhale you did, the shiver in your breath as it exhaled over your neck. He shouldn’t have come, he should have gone to the bar and drank himself to sleep there. The shakes didn’t stop, it was getting hard to breathe now. It wasn’t just the numerous near death experiences he encountered last night, it was all the ones before that. All the times he failed and almost failed to return back to you whole. Unchanged.
He felt you tug at him, pulling him away from the sofa silently. Leon flinched as you turned off the lamp, your hand tightening around his in response as you led him down the hallway into the softness of your bedroom. The door trapping the darkness away.
Leon stood in the center of your room, watching with small sniffles leaving his lips as you turned on the fairy lights around your bed frame. The warmth glows off them, illuminating the room enough that you could still sleep. You pulled back the bedsheets for him, an invitation for him to join you. It was familiar the feeling as he tucked himself in, one arm under the pillow the other laid on top of the duvet just a hairline away from you. Leon looked into your eyes, he was sure he was blotchy with leftover tears. The skin becomes red and blotching following the tracks they left behind.
Yet, despite all of the sadness that radiated off him, the warning sign that he was too much for you to handle. That he was too broken to be healed, he found himself leaning in towards you. Laying close where your pillows met, the crease being the only thing separating the two of you.
It was only a few breaths of silence before you leaned in, tasting the dried tears on his lips in a soft kiss. He didn’t register it at first, thinking it was just some pretty after dream he often got after the nightmares. He still chased it when you broke away, whimpering slightly as you moved back. You didn’t realise how much he needed this…needed you after all these years.
Your fingers laced with the strands of hair that ghosted the nape of his neck, trapping him in a kiss again. Your lips desperate and needy as you fought for each other. His hand pulled you closer, his body dominating yours as he pushed you into the mattress. “We don’t have to do thi-”
“Please”
Leon’s beg was pitiful, he should be pushing you away not drawing you in closer so your smell suffocated him. He didn’t deserve the softness of your fingers as you pulled his shirt above his head displaying the fresh bruises that littered across his torso. “I’m an agent” He spoke between kisses against your neck. It was hardly the time to talk about this but he needed to, needed to get it out into the air as you pulled him closer. Let him into your heart as if he wasn’t already trapped in it.
“I have been for years, since I came back from Raccoon city…I was forced to do this”
It was hard to concentrate on his words as his fingers ghosted over the nipples through your tank top. Tweaking the small buds as his lips ghosted the words on your skin. Your breath hitched as he finally pulled the top above your tits, exposing them to the cold air of the bedroom. “I survived that night” He said as he kissed along your collarbone creating a trail towards your breasts. “I survived spain, rescued the president's daughter”
Another kiss on your nipple, you tugged him closer, suffocating him with the soft skin of your chest. Your smell calmed him as he worked his tongue around your nipple, circling the bud with insane precision. You whimpered when he pulled away again, your grip keeping him close as you guided him to the other breast. “I tried to save people, to stop them from dying”
Your heart broke at each confession, at each secret he revealed of his hidden life. The one that you would have supported him on, helped him work through his moments. “I’m proud of you” You spoke softly, lifting his head, trying not to whimper at the sight of his messy face. “You shouldn’t be, people have died on my watch…I get people killed”
“Am I dead?”
Leon looked at you, his eyebrows pinching in thought as his chest rubbed against yours. Your cores are needy for each other, waiting patiently for the pleasure that they seeked. “No,” he whispered. With a smile you bought him into a kiss, your hips grinding against his in a needy motion to feel his twitching cock. “Then I trust you to keep me safe. Just don’t keep me in the darkness anymore please…” You whispered against his lips.
It was only then his hips met your grind, pressing them against your clothed pussy pinning them to the bed. You watched him bite his lip to stifle a groan, his pupils growing darker as lust replaced the sadness. “I’m a bad man” He whispered.
Your fingers pushed against the waistband of your pyjama bottoms, exposing your weeping sex to him. “Not from where I’m looking”
Leon’s head dipped, clearly having a mental battle with himself before finally deciding to give in. To cross this line and let you inside again, it was only fair after all. He treated you like you were the only drug worth living for, an addiction he would never recover from. His cock slapped against his stomach as he finally exposed it. The tip eagerly beads pre-cum which he uses to work his sensitive cock. Each pump produces more for you in a steady supply.
You gasped when you felt him notch himself at your entrance, his cock twitching against your hole spreading his pre along your folds. Leon brought you into a passionate kiss as he finally sunk himself into you, your warmth welcoming him like the hug he had always needed. The type he has never been selfish enough to take from you. His shadow loomed over you as he began to thrust. A low grinding motion, almost like he wasn’t ready enough to pull away.
You had no idea how long he needed this, the release from hiding everything, the safe space to do so. Deep down he always knew it had to be you, the one he would grind himself deeper and deeper in such a vulnerable state. He thanked the heavens he was sober, so he could remember exactly how your walls felt as you hugged his cock, dragged him in further. Your grip so tight against his shoulders that you made your own marks along his back.
As if he pulled out anymore of his dick you would change your mind and push him away. He almost cried when your legs wrapped around his waist trapping him there, pinning his hips closer to your own. His name became a chant as it felt from your lips in deep groans.
The pain was welcomed compared to the aches in his joints that he still felt, pure desire willing him to take you like this. “You are so perfect” he whispered against your neck as his thrusts picked up, chasing the pleasure you were pleading him to give to you. “Please– leon” You whimpered as you arched yourself closer to him. Leon grunted in your ear, his heart beating wildly as he poured everything into you, thrusting his entire soul into your pleasure like it was the only thing worthwhile for him to do.
You were his everything. The only thing he needed, you felt it with every twitch he gave you. His mouth sucking against the skin as he whimpered at the feeling of you. Sweat dampened his body as he finally chased the high. “I love you” You whined, pulling his head away from your neck as you finally kissed him. Tears pooled in his eyes at your words, his head nodding in agreement.
Leon shifted his thighs underneath your ass, pressing you further into the mattress every thrust. In a pleading whine you finally orgasmed around his cock. The feeling was perfect, rejuvenating the energy he needed for his own finish. He needed you to feel the same warmth he felt inside, the same love that you offered him so gracefully. He loved you, he will always love you. He needed you to know that despite him changing, growing into a colder man, his love for you was the only thing that stopped him from freezing over entirely.
As he unravelled himself inside you, fucking his seed deep into your warmth with a whine. He entrusted that your grip would keep together, that your hold on him would slowly close the wounds that had bled for too long. As they had become infected and leaked over his soul in an angry attempt to kill his spirit.
Your chest greeted each other with each breath you took, unspoken words and confessions still lingering in the air, but in this moment he didn’t care. Not when you looked back at him with so much love. “I love you more” He finally whispered before pulling away to hold you to him like a weighted blanket.
The silence that filled the room was comforting as you both came down from your high, your minds working too much for sleep to take you in its graces. “I almost died yesterday…flung so far I broke through a glass barrier and hung on the verge of life and death. I knew it was going to happen someday…but I wasn’t ready. Not when I hadn’t told you that I loved you” Leon admitted. It was scary to listen to these words, your heart skipping a beat at the confession of his near death. Realising that this was the moment that made him panic earlier, his body hanging off the sofa in a similar fashion you assumed.
“Then don’t waste anymore time, I’m right here.”
Instead of panicking, just like you always did, you offered him a space to talk. An opportunity to finally go through everything he has, to listen to every heart breaking moment he shouldered alone. In hopes that together, you could help him move on and finally begin the process of healing.
This is my content, please do not copy, translate, or edit my work!
Series will be posted separately.
★ = smut
Levi Ackerman -
~ The Ghost Between Us ★
~ Protective!Levi Headcannons
~ Quiet!Levi Headcannons
~ Captain Heartthrob
~ Not Yours (Unless You Ask)
~ Beach Day Blues (or Reds, if You Ask Levi)
~ Levi's Turn On's?
~ Lipstick Confessions
Eren Yeager -
~ Jealous!Eren Headcannons
~ Stay Still
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(Please feel free to ignore) This request got too long as an ask, so I'm gonna send it in parts of 6. So I thought this could be 5(?) individual panels of modern au Levi crying in the shower (one of the few places he feels safe enough to cry) as a reaction to Kuchel's death. Panel 1: Levi enters the shower that evening with a despondent and distant expression. (1)
ANON!!!
Oh. My. God.
Anon...Oh my god...Anon OHMYGOWD
ANON!!!!
OH MY G O D
....
So...you know webtoons?
I made your request like one...
also....part two...today??? Someone's up for it?
When Gojo Satoru walked in the bathroom, to see if you were ready, he didn’t expect to find a scene straight out of a meltdown — a horrific sight of you standing frozen in front of the mirror, tears streaming down your cheeks, hair undone, and a catastrophic pile of clothes scattered across the room.
The sound of Gojo Satoru’s long strides echoed softly against the hallway floor as he made his way toward the bathroom door, his voice carrying that familiar mix of impatience and teasing frustration.
“Babe, are you ready ye—” he called out, his tone slightly annoyed from the wait. He didn’t bother knocking — he never did, no matter how many times you’d told him to. As always, his curiosity got the better of him.
But the scene that greeted him silenced him instantly.
It was like a horror movie — one that delivered a clear message: only speak if you’re spoken to.
There you stood, bathed in the warm glow of the bathroom light, completely still — your reflection staring back at you like a stranger. The world around you had melted into the background. The only sound filling the space was the upbeat thump of a song playing far too cheerfully from the speaker on the counter. A cruel contrast to the heartbreak etched across your face.
Tears clung to your lashes before falling, tracing ruined rivers down your cheeks. Your eyeliner was smudged, mascara pooled like shadows beneath your eyes, and the once flawless layer of foundation cracked as each teardrop carved a path through it.
Your hair was still undone — tangled, untouched, despite how long you’d been getting ready. Gojo, confused, slowly peeked his head back out, his eyes flicking toward the open closet across the room. The chaos was telling — clothes strewn everywhere, hangers tossed aside in frustration. His gaze shifted to the chair where you always laid out your outfit ahead of time, the space now hauntingly empty.
Ah.
So that’s what was going on.
This is what he saw when scrolling through your TikTok — the videos that joked about “when your makeup isn’t makeuping, hair isn’t hairing, outfit not outfitting, body isn't bodying, and you have to go out in 5 minutes, female rage.”
His eyes returned to you — your red, blotchy face, tiny hairs sticking to your damp forehead, the weight of it all clinging to your body like a second skin. Overwhelmed. That was the word that came to his mind. You looked… overwhelmed.
The music reached its beat drop — sharp, vibrant, and utterly oblivious to the scene playing out.
And there you stood, shoulders slumped, not dancing or singing, just utterly defeated. Beaten by a moment that should’ve felt fun.
“Hey, hey... hey,” he murmured gently, his voice sweet as honey, smooth and low, wrapped in concern as he shuffled into the bathroom with quiet urgency.
Without hesitation, his long arms slid around your waist from behind, wrapping you in a warmth that contrasted the cold silence clinging to you like fog. His chin brushed against your shoulder as he held you there— steady, grounding, while your body remained frozen in front of the mirror.
He didn’t rush you. Just pressed soft circles into your sides with the pads of his thumbs, like he was trying to massage the sadness out of your skin, then placed a trail of kisses along your neck to your shoulder — soft, gentle, and loving.
“Let’s breathe, yeah?” he whispered into your ear, his breath tickling your skin. His voice was no longer impatient — just gentle, coaxing, like the hush of rain against the glass.
You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to.
He felt the way your body slumped beneath his hold, like a house trying to stand upright through a storm.
“I was coming in to tell you…” he started, lips brushing your temple now, “I’m not in the mood anymore. Outing? People? All that noise?” He shook his head, pulling you just a little closer. “Not today. Not for us, baby. Mm?”
His hands moved to your arms, gliding up and down in slow, comforting strokes as if trying to rewarm your soul.
“I’ll order takeout,” he said softly, “put on that movie you’ve been wanting to watch—the one you keep pretending you’re not excited about.” His smile ghosted against your cheek. “Good plan, right?”
He grabbed a hair tie from the counter and gently began to gather your hair, pulling it up and away from the sweat damp strands sticking to your face. Then, with care, he wiped away your makeup, peppering your face with soft kisses to every spot he wiped away as he murmured a string of gentle words like,
“You’re so beautiful. So pretty. So lovely...so sexy.“
In that moment — even with ruined makeup and messy hair — you didn’t feel like a disaster anymore; you felt held, felt home, and you didn’t need to utter a single word.
Saw this in a tiktok and had to write gojo in this situation LMAO
The dialogue between Hanji, Levi and pastor Nick about Dante and eating shit deserves a Nobel prize in literature, periodt.
5. https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161844
This is probably the first Levihan fanfiction I read. Still gives me chills. It’s not like I FORGOT the name of this fic and had to ask people to help me figure it out because that’s the type of a person i am
6. https://archiveofourown.org/works/11916285
I read this one in polish, so I’m not sure how good is the translation, but i love this one s o much.
7. https://archiveofourown.org/works/18826147/chapters/44673670 (LeviHan angst- read the trigger warnings, some of the scenes are very explicit)
8. https://archiveofourown.org/works/27309769 (Levi taking care of injured Hanji)
9. https://archiveofourown.org/works/14763386/chapters/34140398 (snk 1920′s AU, this author is a true treasure!!!)
10. https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11822321/1/LeviHan-Oneshot-based-on-a-DYFM-comic (be careful, it’s a smut! ;))
11. https://archiveofourown.org/works/1962759
Big shout out to that one amazing person on Instagram who sent me a few recommendations (I put some of them here, bc they were amazing)!
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I just found out, and I finished reading it today. That the author of my favorite fic: 'Paths in Constellation'. Made. A. NEW. NOVEL!? .·°՞(≧□≦)՞°·.
What the hell I'm ASHAMED that I just found out TODAY I thought I followed them! I only found this out today because I miss this ship and decide to read their first novel! ๐·°(⋟﹏⋞)°·๐
Well, this changes everything, I am absolutely ecstatic! I have been screeching for hours reading this blessed fic. If someone of you rivamika shippers are new here pleasseee read them! Its called 'Devils We Chase' by LamentableBrat they deserve all the love and appreciation for their work!! I really really love them!
