Lone

Now you somehow found yourself sitting alone on the couch in the darkened living room, and the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon slipping through the curtains.

And in your hands rested the pregnancy test that had been hidden away inside your drawer for the past week, because you were supposed to tell your boyfriend, Leon. Your only one, the love of your life.

That you were going to be a mother, and he was going to be a dad. Like at times he had talked about it to you. The thought alone should've filled you with nothing but excitement. Because it had always been something you dreamed of someday, and now... it was real, and it did, at some point.

You were thrilled… at first, but it was overshadowed by something….far more worse— a dread.

Maybe that's exactly why you couldn't tell him.

Because the Leon you loved wasn't entirely himself anymore. No, he still loved you— you never doubted that, not for a second. But as he continued working under the government, somewhere along the way, he'd become lost, he says he'd seen far too much.

He needed help, you knew that, and you had tried to help him numerous times, told him, he should take therapy, he refused that, upright, because he was never that vulnerable— with you or anyone. It was like he was holding himself back from things that could hurt you, yet you both still made it work, loved each other not perfectly but purely, and maybe that was enough… at least for a time being.

After that; his drinking habits had slowly crept into his life, one bad day bleeding into the next until it became something neither of you spoke about anymore.

But you have tried. you stayed up waiting for him on countless nights. You talked to him. You pleaded with him. You asked him to talk to you, promising that no matter what was weighing him down, you would be there to carry it with him.

Sometimes it worked. Sometimes your pleas reached him, and instead of reaching for another bottle, he reached for you, then sometimes he stopped drinking for an entire month, slowly becoming the Leon you knew again, and for a while you let yourself believe the worst was finally behind you.

But then, just as suddenly, something would happen— a difficult mission, another sleepless night, another burden he refused to share with you, he would slip right back into the same cycle all over again.

leaving you like a pitless hollow, that gnawed in your gut like a leech feeding on your own misery, and sometimes you were ashamed of yourself for not being— enough, not doing enough.

But what were you even supposed to do? when… both of your hands were tied, in cuffs of the ruins of your relationship?

And now, as your trembling fingers tightened around the pregnancy test, which showed two pink lines, confirming there was something growing inside you, and all you could think was one terrifying question.

Would this make him happy… ...or would it only become another burden for a man already drowning?

and you didn't want to be selfish. No. You were better than that. You knew that. But you can't keep hiding it from him.

So, finally, you decided to tell him you were pregnant. You didn't know how he would react. Maybe he would be happy— exceptionally so. Maybe he would be completely shocked. Or maybe... he would leave you, even though deep down you knew Leon would never do that.

Still, after everything the two of you had been through, after all the ups and downs, you weren't sure what to expect anymore, maybe unpredictable was the only word that seemed to fit him lately.

But it was either this or letting him continue living in the dark. So you chose to tell him. Whatever happened afterward, you would face it.

"Let the worst come," you muttered quietly to yourself.

Little did you know, something far more catastrophic that was already waiting for you in the quiet of the night.

…

When Leon finally came back home, it was well past midnight, 12.45 a.m. to be precise and you had unknowingly fallen asleep with the pregnancy test still clutched tightly in your hand.

but the moment you heard the familiar shuffle of his boots outside the bedroom, you jolted awake, your heart jumping into your throat.

In a panic, you quickly hid the test behind your back. A second later, Leon stepped inside and flicked on the bedroom light. Strangely enough, he was completely sober.

but instead he just... looked exhausted. More exhausted than you had ever seen him. And soon as your eyes met, you climbed off the bed and hurried toward him, discreetly slipping the test into the waistband of your jeans before wrapping your arms tightly around him. He didn't hug you back immediately. For a moment, he simply stood there, looking... lost. Like his mind hadn't made it home with the rest of him. Then he let out a long, tired sigh and slowly pulled you into a tight embrace.

You melted into him instantly, but only after a few seconds. Leon gently pushed you back from him, and the moment you looked into his eyes, your entire body went cold, and you realized something was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

Instantly your heart lurched straight into your stomach, your gut twisting so painfully it felt as though it wanted to crawl up your throat. Fuck. He looked awful.

His dark blond hair had fallen messily across his eyes, making him look even more worn than usual. Instinctively, you reached up to cup his face, wanting nothing more than to comfort him, but before your fingertips could brush his skin, Leon caught your wrist midair. Your fingers slowly curled inward in defeat.

"Leon..." you whispered, your voice barely audible, as he finally loosened his grip on your wrist, and with disappointment you let it fall to your side, then you let out a small squeak, finally managing the words that have been haunting you for far too long, "I... I want to talk to you."

You knew this wasn't the right time. But maybe... just maybe… If you didn't tell him tonight...

You would never get the chance.

So you worked up your courage, yet, the words refused to come out of you, and for one long, unbearable second, Leon only looked at you, like you were a complete stranger standing inside his home— and that look pained you more than anything you have been through.

…

Leon didn't know how he was supposed to tell you.

He didn't know how he was meant to look into your eyes and say that he couldn't do this anymore, because the moment he looked at you, he saw it immediately— you wanted to talk to him too. He knew it was important. ‘Tell her,’ every part of him screamed. ‘You love her,’ goddamn it. But he couldn't bring himself to say those words. How could he?

Instead, his mind drifted to every memory the two of you had shared. The nights you stayed awake with him, calming him down after another nightmare. The times you held him while he emptied his stomach after a mission had gone wrong, and he drank himself to the point of getting hospitalized. Sometimes he told you what had happened. Sometimes he didn't. Because he couldn't bring himself to pull you into the same rabbit hole he had spent years trying to crawl out of.

He couldn't ruin you— but he knew he already had, and that part of him was sick— for being so selfish, for not setting you free.

And the thought that haunted him most was the one he buried so deep he barely allowed himself to acknowledge it— was that he needed to protect you.

Because he didn't know when the day would come that he wouldn't make it back. He couldn't bear the thought of you standing beside his grave, forced to bury the man you loved.

Out of everything that terrified him, that was the strongest fear of all.

and so, for numerous reasons or excuses Leon had rehearsed this breakup in his head hundreds of times, yet, he could not bring himself to tell you that.

But he knew he had to do this today.

…

"I think... we should break up." The words left Leon's mouth before he could stop them. Fuck. There was no taking them back now. He swallowed thickly as he watched your eyes slowly turn glassy beneath the dim glow of the bedroom. Instinctively, he reached out toward you, wanting to hold you before you hate him, but the moment his fingers moved, you stepped back. His hand froze in midair before falling uselessly to his side.

He hadn't known breaking your heart, breaking his too, and it would hurt like this. This— painful. This... wrong.

...

The ground disappeared beneath your feet. It felt as though the floor had slipped away entirely, leaving you endlessly falling. Your eyes burned, stinging with the only word your mind could hear.

Break up. Break up. Break up.

"W-Why?" Your voice cracked into a broken sob. "Did... did I do something wrong?" The sound of your voice nearly shattered whatever resolve he had left.

"No. No. No" His own voice trembled, mirroring yours, and your heart ached with something more than a breakup, a heartbreak, and all of it felt too much, like, you could not breathe, "That's not—"

"Then why?" You asked, cutting him off mid-sentence, feeling your knees buckling at the overwhelming emotions of his words.

He closed his eyes for a brief second. "Because..." His throat tightened painfully. "I don't think I can give you the life you deserve." He forced himself to continue despite every instinct screaming at him to stop. "I don't think... I deserve something so good."

You stared at him: tears already spilling freely down your cheeks. “And I don't get to have a say in it?”

He shook his head, frantically, running a hand through his hairs, his chest heaved shakily, before his shoulders slumped down, in defeat, "I want you to have a better life... without me." he admitted finally meeting your gaze, and when he looked straight into your eyes, the realization of what he losing hit straight into him, and all the breath that his lungs held seemed to leave him all at once.

"I don't, I want a life without you, Leon.” The answer came so quickly it made his heart stop.

God. That's what he wants too.. more than anything, in this world. But you were more than what he asked for, and he can't lose you by being himself.

"But I do." The lie rolled off his tongue far too easily, and it killed him, fuck. The minute he said it you nodded your head like you were processing his words, your jaw clenched as you looked down at the floor, completely still.

He wanted you to snap at him, fight him, hurt him too. But you just stood there, like someone took your heart, and left you to bury the pieces of what was left.

Maybe that's what he was doing?

he wanted to tell you he was lying. He wanted to pull you into his arms, tell you he couldn't imagine breathing in a world where you weren't beside him.

But the truth was uglier than that. He wanted you to have stability.

A family.

A future where you didn't spend every night wondering if someone would knock on your door carrying his tag instead of him.

so leon just wanted you to be happy even if that future no longer included him.

"You... don't love me anymore?" You asked looking into his eyes which seemed glassy now too, as if he was doing this because something possessed him to do so and, a part of you?— it wished.. he didn't mean anything he said, and it was just a nightmare, but you knew better than anyone. That he meant it.

"I do." His answer was immediate, as he let a single tear fall to his face, "more than anything."

Leon rarely cried. In fact, he had spent years teaching himself not to. But tonight, he was painfully sober, and every ounce of that pain hit him all at once.

It felt as though someone had deliberately shattered a glass bottle inside his chest before forcing every jagged shard deeper into his heart, demanding that he say the words— or they'd cut straight through his artery. His voice cracked. “But sometimes..." He looked away because he couldn't bear the hope still lingering inside your eyes. "...sometimes loving someone means letting them go.” A bitter laugh escaped him before he whispered, "I'd rather have you hate me... than bury my drunk ass one day."

That was it.

...

So... he wasn't going to fight for you either. your touts churned deep inside your stomach.

The realization settled quietly inside your chest, somehow hurting more than the breakup itself, you knew though… It was selfish of you. Because you saw it long ago— but what hurt was even when it was breaking your heart, he is doing it so gently, like peeling your skin, but applying a balm right after on it so it would not hurt much.

But yet it did.

You broke finally, and a sob ripped itself from your chest as your knees gave out beneath you. you crumpled onto the floor, one hand clutching your chest while the other pressed desperately against the hardwood, as though you needed something—anything—to keep yourself from completely collapsing.

“Please—”Leon said shakily, and soon as he said it he was beside you instantly, his face now was nothing but painful emotions residing on it. it had nothing but regret. Regret of doing this, without any other word he reached for you without thinking, but the moment his fingers brushed your arm, you weakly pushed against his chest.

It wasn't enough to move him, but it was a silent plea from you to him, to not touch you, he swallowed thickly, before letting his arms fall to his sides and yet he didn't leave your side entirely, “don't— do this, I don't deserve it,” he pleaded.

"It's okay..." you whispered through your tears, and finally wiped your face with the back of your trembling hands. "I... I get it."

Those five words hurt him and struck right through his chest, more than if you had screamed, because you weren't fighting him. You weren't begging him to stay.

You were simply... accepting it.

He knew it was for the best, but… logic doesn't work best in situations like this.

Slowly, you forced yourself back onto your feet. Leon stood too, panic flashing across his face before a gut-wrenching, dreadful feeling flooded every corner of his body. "Stay here... please," he said, forcing a composure that was just as fake as the facade he'd been wearing ever since he told you he wanted to break up. "As long as you want. I'll stay at my other apartment. You can have this place until you figure everything out.”

“Dont worry.” Then you murmured, burying everything already beneath your heart and locking it in one of its chambers, then you shook your head, at him, "I'll manage."

Leon didn't expect that, either, that how quickly you gained your composure back. and you accepted his decision with a quiet dignity that made something splinter deep inside his chest. Because…

Why? Why weren't you asking him to stay?

Why did it hurt so much that you simply nodded, as though his decision was final?

…

What Leon didn't know... was that the moment your hand instinctively brushed against your stomach beneath your sweater, it held the answer to everything.

Not that he would ever know now. The irony of it really tasted bitter in your mouth.

The words I'm pregnant lingered on the very tip of your tongue, desperate to be spoken. You wanted to tell him. God, you wanted to. But you swallowed them back down, just like every other feeling you had buried tonight.

Because you couldn't do that to him.

After all, your baby—his baby—should never become an obligation. Never become the reason he chose to stay.

More than that? something else was your greatest fear. That somewhere, deep down, you were not telling him because you wanted him to choose you. To stay. To love you enough to not leave you.

without baby being the reason for it.

No. You couldn't bear that thought of im staying because of the baby.

So instead, you swallowed everything, your love, your grief, your silence— and let it settle quietly inside your heart, treasuring it like the last piece of heaven you would ever be allowed to keep.

“Goodbye, Leon.”, that's all you said that night after everything.

…

Three months later

Time had a way of blurring after the breakup: weeks collapsing into each other, now the grief no longer felt like a scream but a dull thud, like a persistent ache lodged somewhere behind your ribs.

Though one thing never stopped was Leon's texts, asking how you were every single day. You never replied. Not because you hated him, but because you didn't have the heart to talk to him— not while you were still trying to figure out how you were supposed to manage a life without him.

But it didn't mean you didn't miss him, god you did, more than you will let yourself admit, because even now Leon was still living inside your heart. Like it was his own, and you just carried it and forgot to return.

Though you tried not to let it consume the fragile scaffolding of a new life you were attempting to build, and you found yourself on Claire's couch, then in her spare room.

"You can stay as long as you need," she'd said when you first arrived with your duffel bag and red-rimmed eyes, and you'd offer a week, maybe two. But weeks became months, and Claire never once made you feel like the imposition you feared you were. She simply accepted you, and kept your secrets. Especially the big one.

"Keep it between us," you'd begged her that first night, your hand splayed across your stomach in a gesture that felt both protective and desperate, as you told her everything happened three months before, "Please, Claire. He can't know."

She'd agreed, though her jaw had tightened with reluctance, and now she was your shadow at every appointment, or maybe accomplice, if you could call it that, maybe that's exactly what you should call her— now she sits in plastic chairs in sterile waiting rooms, holding your purse while you changed into gowns, studying the ultrasound monitor with you as the technician moved the wand across your growing belly.

She was supposed to be your baby's godmother, and she knew it. In fact, she was more than happy to be one. Even though you were only three months along, Claire had already ordered tiny gifts online, unable to contain her excitement for the little life that was already so deeply loved.

Not only that now she knew your prenatal vitamin schedule, the way you needed silence in the mornings when the nausea was bad, how you talked to yourself, how you still missed him, and called out his name in your sleep.

But maybe she knew you weren't ready for that conversation, even if you missed Leon like he was the beat to your heart.

You were grateful she never pushed you, never forced you to speak before you were ready.

Still, the guilt quietly drowned you. You knew that everything Claire was doing for you could never truly be repaid, and nothing you could ever offer her would feel like enough.

For that, for her— you knew you would be grateful for the rest of your life.

…

one evening…you sat alone in her living room, the ultrasound image clutched between your palms. The grainy black-and-white picture showed nothing more than a curved spine, a faint heartbeat made visible, but to you it was everything. "Little bean," you whispered to the photograph, your thumb tracing the outline of what would someday be a face. "Your Dada loves you. More than you'll ever know. But he doesn't know you exist. And if he did..." Your voice cracked, thin as paper. "If he knew, he'd tear the world apart to keep you. So please—" You pressed the photo to your chest, eyes closing, as tears gathered in your heart, "Please never hate him for not being here. It's not his fault. He just... doesn't know."

"Talking to the peanut again?" You flinched for a second, before relaxing back onto the sofa because now Claire had developed a habit of materializing beside you— three months of shared space had attuned you to her presence, as the soft pad of her socks on hardwood, the particular way she settled into cushions.

"Something like that." You sighed and tucked the photo into your pocket.

Claire sank into the couch beside you, her shoulder brushing yours. She was studying your face with that particular brand of Claire-intensity— the look that saw too much, that had always seen too much, even when you wished she wouldn't. "You love that baby," she said.

"I do, and I am scared I would mess it up, when the baby is born." You sighed and rested your chin onto your chest, as thoughts of a new life, and your past, your love… flooded your brain.

“You would not.”, Claire said it like a fact, and for one hot second you believed her, “Because you are the most amazing person I have met.”

You murmured a silent thank you, to your best friend, who just hummed in response then a silence stretched between you, heavy with things unsaid. Then she cleared her throat: "Leon is a mess, y'know"

Your head snapped toward her, as pain, hurt clouded your pupils until they widened enough to explode. "Claire—"

"I know, I know. You don't want to hear it." She sank deeper into the cushions, pulling her knees to her chest, not looking at you. "But I'm telling you anyway. He's terrible, sweetheart. Worse than when he left. Worse than any of us expected."

"I see." Your voice had gone flat, mechanical, though, your heart ached terribly, sewing itself shut at the thought of him, being miserable without you.

Though that, part of you, the pity part, was happy, that he was suffering too.

"He misses you, and talks about you all the time." She finally turned, her eyes soft, pleading, almost in the way, that said 'whatever broke you two can fix it,' but you don't know if you believed it. "I never told him about the pregnancy— you made me promise, and I haven't. But he's crumbling without you. Lost in a way that... that he wasn't before, even with his… drinking habit ." She pauses for a second, then continues, “which brings me to the point that he has stopped drinking.”

“Good for him”, then you closed your eyes, as the image of him, disheveled, broken— rose unbidden behind your lids, and you shoved it away, though what you didn't admit was it still lingering like a ghost, trying to pull you over, "But he made his choice."

"I know he did."

"Then why are you doing this?"

"Because he loves you." Claire's hand found yours, her fingers warm and steady, you held hers and she smiled a little, "Not the idea of you. You. And I think—no, I know—that if he understood what he threw away, he'd crawl through broken glass to fix it."

Your laugh was hollow, bitter as a tear fell down on your cheek. "So what should I do? Call him up? Surprise him at work with a belly bump and a confession?"

Then you shuddered, “I am sorry, I can't just..” you trailed off.

Claire nods, in understanding, “you don't have to apologise to me, and I think you should give him a chance," she said gently. "Tell him. Let him decide what to do with the truth."

"But what if—" You pulled your hand away, wrapping your arms around yourself, around the secret you carried. "What if he only comes back because of the baby? What if he looks at me and sees obligation instead of... instead of me?"

"And what if he chooses you?" Claire countered, her voice dropping to a whisper. "What if he comes back because he realizes he can't breathe without you? What then?"

You opened your mouth, then soon closed it, because what if she was right?

But you couldn't let yourself hold onto that hope. Not after Leon had thrown it away so easily. No matter how hard it would've been, the two of you could have made it work— you knew that.

You would've fought for him, for the life you had dreamed of together. But you forced those thoughts back down where they belonged, burying them before they could hurt you any more than they already had.

As the ultrasound photo seemed to burn against your thigh, a tiny heartbeat waiting to be acknowledged, and outside, the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the room in shades of amber and shadow.

The time dissolved into your heartbeat, as you thought of Leon— his hands, his laugh, the way he'd looked at you like you were the only person in any room and you thought of the future stretching ahead, vast, terrifying and unknown, without him.

But still you didn't have an answer. Not yet.

And sitting in here, with Claire's steady breathing beside you and new life fluttering inside your womb, you realized you were running out of time to find one.

…

One week later

Yeah... you mentally counted to yourself. I have the groceries. Sauce, eggs, whipped cream... sushi for Claire... Before you could think of anything else— before another thought had the chance to form, your vision blurred.

Then everything went black.

.

.

Next thing you know or saw was that the fluorescent lights hummed with an electric drone that seemed to vibrate inside your skull.

When your eyes finally fluttered open, the ceiling tiles swam above you— blurred white grids that slowly sharpened into focus. Your mouth felt cotton-dry, your tongue thick and useless.

Then you felt it, the sting of something piercing through your hand then you looked down. A cannula pierced the blue vein of your left hand, taped down with translucent medical adhesive, clear tubing snaking from your wrist to an IV bag that swayed slightly with the current of the room's ventilation.

The bedframe groaned— a metallic, tired sound, as you shifted your weight, trying to push yourself up with a low grunt.

Fuck what happened…? Your thoughts pounded like a vampire outside a door.

Your first thought wasn't about yourself.

It was the baby.

"No... no..." you whispered, panic surging through every vein as you shook your head frantically. Your trembling hand flew instinctively to your stomach, your heart pounding so violently it hurt. "Claire?" Your voice emerged as a rasp, barely audible over the hospital's ambient machinery, you turned your head.

“Yeah, I am here” she looked exhausted, and you felt a pang of guilt over your body, she had been holding your hand, and you realized only after, her fingers squeezed around yours still warm against the cool hospital linen.

But she wasn't alone, as you looked past her, your every thought that you gathered dispersed in air, and your heart didn't just skip, it vaulted into your throat, a physical obstruction that cut off your breath, your thoughts, your ability to process anything beyond the figure standing at her side.

Leon.

Shit.

He looked different, as if someone had carved away the softness you'd once known, leaving only angles and shadows. He wore a leather jacket you didn't recognize, and his hair had grown longer than before, but those eyes— that impossible, unfair blue, were exactly as you remembered, fixed on you with an intensity that made your chest ache.

Claire mouthed silent, 'Sorry.' Then she finally spoke, and you turned your attention towards her. "You passed out right outside my apartment with groceries still in your hands. Chris found you and called me. We brought you straight here." She gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before quickly adding, "You're okay. The doctors said nothing is wrong with your….." she trails off as she realizes who was beside her.

You let out a long, shaky breath, relief washing through your body.

Before you could grill her about the 5 '11 man beside her, "I didn't call him," she said aloud, her voice gentle, "Chris did, and..." She hesitated, her gaze flickering between you and Leon. "Nothing else. He didn't know anything else."

She squeezed your hand once, a silent benediction, then stood. "I'll be outside. You two should talk." Then she walked out of the door and it clicked shut behind her with soft final thud.

You lay back against the pillows, squeezing your eyes shut against the burn of tears that threatened.

You finally heard him move, the scuff of his boots against linoleum, the scrape of the plastic stool as he pulled it closer to your bedside. Then, his hand found yours, instinctively. As if no time had passed, as if he still had the right.

His skin was calloused, warm, and his thumb traced a familiar path across your knuckles. This time, you didn't pull away. You couldn't. Your strength had evaporated, leaving only this— this touch that you had craved in the darkest hours of the past three months.

"Please," Leon whispered. "Tell me what's wrong. Chris, Claire— no one would tell me anything."

His voice broke on the last word, and you felt the vibration of it through your palm, through your wrist, straight into the hollow space where your heart used to be. "Maybe I don't deserve an answer," he continued, his grip tightening on your hand, not crushing, but desperate on you. "But I can't lose you. Not again. I can't—"

Your throat worked, muscles contracting around words that had calcified inside you for months. Words you'd rehearsed in mirrors, screamed into pillows, whispered to the empty dark. You wanted to scream at them now—you walked away—but looking at him, at the cracks in his composure, at the man beneath the armor, something in you cracked too.

He didn't look like the same Leon. And before you could assemble the fragments of your courage, he spoke. "I'm sorry." The words fell like stones into still water. "I shouldn't have left. I stopped drinking. I can't just—" He stopped, jaw working, eyes shining with unshed tears. "I can't expect you to believe that, but I could not live without you."

The room tilted. The fluorescent lights swam again, but this time it wasn't from anesthesia or exhaustion. It was the vertigo of possibility, of a future you'd buried so deep you'd convinced yourself it was dead. "Leon..."

"Yes?" The word was immediate, hungry. Then, softer: "Darling."

Darling, The endearment slipped from his tongue with devastating ease, as if you were still his to name, his to claim.

As if the months of silence were merely a pause, not a period. His hand squeezed yours again, slightly harder now, grounding you both. The confession rose in your throat like bile, like prayer, like the only truth left in your body. "I'm pregnant." you blurted.

Silence.

Leon blinked, rapidly "What did you say?"

"I'm pregnant." The tears finally spilled, hot and traitorous, then sweat tracks down your temples into your hair. "I'm pregnant, Leon. With our baby."

The color drained from his face so rapidly you thought he might faint. His lips parted, but no sound emerged. "Why?" The question was barely audible. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to." Your voice cracked, splintering into pieces. "The day you left me. I had the test in my hand. I was going to tell you that night."

His face transformed— grief carving new lines, guilt etching deeper ones. He looked physically ill, as if your words had become knives.

"I wanted to tell you," you repeated each syllable with its own small violence. "But I didn't want our baby to become the reason you stayed."

You turned your head to look at him fully, meeting those blue eyes that had wrecked you and rebuilt you so many times. "I wanted you to choose me."

Leon made a sound— something wounded, animal, as he closed his eyes, feeling tears forming into his eyes too.

"So I let you go." You admitted softly.

His breathing became ragged, uneven. The hand not holding yours rose to his mouth, fingers pressing against his lips as if to hold back the sob you could see building in his chest. "You've..." He looked down, finally, to your stomach. Hidden beneath the thin hospital blanket, the small swell of three months' growth. "Our baby?"

You nodded. "Three months."

He shook, and removed his hands from yours, and covered his mouth with both hands now, shoulders beginning to shake. Then, suddenly, the hell of his feelings broke.

The sob that escaped him was ugly, raw— nothing like the controlled, stoic man the world knew.

It was the sound of a heart breaking open, of walls crumbling to dust. He bent forward, forehead pressing into the mattress near your hip, his entire body trembling with the force of his weeping. "I'm so sorry," he choked out. "God, I'm so sorry."

Then he stood abruptly, the stool scraping back, and leaned over you. His forehead found yours, skin against skin, "I know you won't forgive me," he whispered, breath hot against your face. "I know I don't deserve—"

You answered by reaching up, your free hand finding the back of his neck, pulling him down. Then he collapsed into your bed beside your arms, folding himself against your chest with a desperation that spoke of sleepless nights and empty words, when he pushed you away.

Now he held you like something sacred. Like prayer. Like penance. "I never stopped loving you," he murmured against your shoulder, the words vibrating through your collarbone. "I broke up with you because I thought I was protecting you. I thought you'd have a better life without me. Without... all of this."

You smiled through your tears, the expression feeling strange on your face— almost like remembering a language you'd forgotten. "You are stupid."

He laughed through his tears and pulled back, just enough to meet your eyes. His were red-rimmed, devastated, but there— present in a way he hadn't been for years. "I never stopped loving you," he said again, as if repetition could make it true, could make it enough.

“Neither did I”, you breathed against his skin.

His hand finally moved to your belly his large palm spread across the slight curve, fingers trembling where they touched you through the thin fabric of the hospital gown. "...Hi, little one," he whispered.

Fresh tears spilled down your face, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to your forehead— soft, lingering. Then your cheek. Then, he shifted his weight down, sinking to his knees beside the bed, he pressed his mouth to your stomach through the blanket, a kiss meant for the life growing there. "I don't deserve either of you," he said against your body.

"No," you whispered in a tone that had i am joking written all over it. "You don't."

He just hummed, in agreement, "But… if you give me the chance I would make it up to both of you."

You cupped his face, forcing him to look up at you, to see the seriousness in your eyes. "If you're staying because you feel obligated to the baby, you don't have to. I won't trap you. I won't—"

"I'm staying," he interrupted, his voice fierce and immediate. then he finally rose from the bed and climbed down while reclaiming his seat on the stool, reclaiming your hand in both of his. "I'm staying because you're my home. The baby is... everything. A miracle. But you..." He brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a kiss there. "You're my choice. You always were. You will always be."

He then stood and rested his forehead against yours once more, the gesture becoming their own language, private and wordless. "You've always been the reason," he breathed. "Even when I was too broken to see it. You were the reason I got up. You were the reason I stopped. You are the reason, I exist.”

His words settled slowly deep inside your heart and for the first time in months, with Leon beside you, the future didn't feel frightening anymore.

It felt like home.

It felt like life was too good to complain. All your dreams were coming true so why were you feeling sad? Now, wide awake against your will the answer revealed itself. It's your family. You're missing them.

They weren't perfect by any means, but you loved them. When Leon proposed you packed up. A few weeks before the wedding you were settled into his place. Well, his place was in Washington D.C. So, things had to change.

Not that you minded. You were excited for it, really. But its been a few months and you used to see at least one family member every week. Not anymore. You sigh and burrow into your pillow. You really shouldn't be bothered so much by this.

Silent tears begin to fall and small sniffles are muffled into the pillow. You're angry at yourself for being so whiny and ungrateful. You're a grown adult. It's not a big deal to be away from family. Leon's your family now. That should be enough, right?

The warm husk of your husband's voice reaches you. Your name falling from his lips in a concerned tone. "Go to bed, honey. It's nothing." You try to hide the way you swipe at your eyes and erase the wobble from your voice. Leon, of course, is not having it.

"Liar." His muscular arm rolls you over so he can look you in the eyes. Your red-rimmed, watery eyes. His own are soft and searching yours. "Tell me what's wrong."

You sigh, knowing you can't hide from your husband. "I'm just missing my family and feeling stupid for it."

"That's not stupid." His calloused thumb arches over your cheek and his lips meet your brow. You melt, a part of you already soothed by him like you received the loveliest lullaby.

"I could book us a flight. We could leave tomorrow." His kisses trail off. Lips caressing every inch of your face. Right down to your chin and the column of your throat.

"You'd really do that?" He shifts on top of you and your hands glide along his spine. Your head falls back into the pillow, exposing your throat to his affectionate marking. The blanket shifts on top of Leon, barely covering his ass.

"Of course. It's no problem." He mumbles against your skin as if it's the easiest thing in the world. No doubt he'll pull some strings, but your thoughts are drifting. More and more you're focused on the heat building between you two.

His kisses deepen, worshipping the curve of your shoulder and the plains of your chest. You moan, grip tightening on him. His hardening member teases your entrance and in response your legs lock around his waist.

His sultry chuckle in response signals the end of your rest. It's safe to say, you're both whipped for each other. In the morning, he'll have scratches down his back and you'll have bruises on your hips.

The next day Leon wakes you up with a gentle shake of your shoulders and a kiss on your forehead. The sun is high in the sky, revealing that he let you sleep in. You groan, gradually waking and rubbing at your eyes.

"I got your bags packed. Should have time for breakfast and a shower." He sighs, and continues in a sarcastic tone. "And double check what I packed you because apparently I always forget something." He evens adds air quotes. You just laugh in return, grinning at the man you chose to share the rest of your life with.

You leave the comfy bed and head straight towards Leon. Your fingers curl around the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him forward and kissing his prickly jaw. "Thank you, honey."

His lashes flutter and his whole body relaxes. Muscles melting and thoughts narrowed in on you. Before his arms can trap you and his mouth can consume your attention you slip away. "I'm gonna go shower now, okay?"

You walk away but not without leaving a flirty wink. You hear his answered sigh and mumbled complaint.

The afternoon slips by, a filling breakfast and a satisfying shower. It's a struggle to not go at it at least one more time before leaving especially when Leon's eyes are always devouring you. But you somehow manage to keep on track, reaching the airport in time.

Its luxury and opulence is out of this world. It's clearly for the rich and elite. Most of it is too much to process at the moment. "Ready?" Leon's hand is on your lower back, his other one on a suitcase's handle. You nod, smiling up at the ruggedly handsome man.

Some employees in formal outfits guide you along until you're both in a private jet. "Leon, this is insane." Your eyes are wide as you take in the interior. Large leather seats, cushions, flowers, and furnished wood. Only you and your husband as passengers.

He laughs before approaching an iced dish holding a wine bottle. "Only the best for Mrs. Kennedy." His eyes dance over you causing your heart to pick up speed and fire to spread throughout you.

He pours two glasses, handing you one. A voice over the intercom startles you. It declares departure and a necessity to buckle into a seat for lift off. Both of you find seats, Leon claiming one by the window and you naturally finding a spot next to him.

It's a bit bumpy even as a luxury vehicle. You give Leon a shaky smile and his free hand takes yours. His hand large and calloused. Yet his grip is gentle and speaks volumes of his love towards you. You lean into him and peer out the window past his shoulder.

"You like it, huh?" Leon murmurs with a faint smile.

"It's incredible!" You nod and let out a chuckle. It's an indescribable sight. A powerful feeling that swirls in your gut and threatens to affect everything in its reach. Tall buildings becoming specks and cars disappearing all together. The steady green earth is all but abandoned. Clouds rise up all around the flying masterpiece. The second prettiest blue you've ever seen is filling your view.

"So, we got a while up here. How do you want to spend it?" Your husband's voice steals your focus. His wine glass is already empty and his thumb is rubbing over your knuckles.

Your eyes lock on thee prettiest blue which is found in the depths of Leon's eyes. Heat crawls up your spine at his expression. Playful yet intense. He might keep this sweet and wholesome. But clearly he wants to indulge in more lustful things.

You reach out, hand brushing his bangs away before cupping his cheek. His lids fall shut and he leans into your palm. A surge of confidence and joy runs through you like a shot of electricity. It's certainly better than an adrenaline rush or the poor attempts of an energy drink.

"What do you wanna do? What do you usually do on your long trips?"

He groans, snuggling further into your palm before placing a kiss on its surface. "Nothing fun I can assure you. It's just a lot of contemplation."

You hum in acknowledgement and he pulls away. His hypnotizing eyes blink at you almost like a puppy wishing to cling to its owner.

"I don't care what we do. I'm just happy I'm here with you." His reply is sincere and quiet. His low voice is a precious thing vibrating in your chest.

And how can you say no to that? Without hesitation you leave your seat and crawl into his lap. "Oh." He laughs, his arms instantly going to grab you and keep you. There's not much room in the row though and you're sliding off. Both of you are laughing now and with awkward maneuvering he unbuckles.

"Alright, get off for a second." You climb off with a defeated sigh and step into the aisle way. He joins you shortly after and scoops you up. Your legs and arms lock around him like a koala. Giddy noises escape you and bury themselves in his skin.

Leon finds a cozy looking seat that's by itself in the luxury jet. Nothing is in front of it to make things difficult. He settles into place, your body snug on his lap. "So, where were we?" Your husband gives you a devastating grin.

You grin in return. Then, your lips are meeting his and things take off.

You're on fire. His rough, thick fingers are playing with your nipples. You squirm in his lap, freeing yourself from your strapless bra yet keeping your top on. You're breathing heavy, nipples aching and back arching. "Oh, god. Leon, I need you." His hands squeeze and caress your freed breasts.

Your hips meet over and over. Two starving animals, humping on one another. Your nails bite into his large shoulders while he bites at your neck. It's only a brush of pain, but he's always careful and his tongue soothes over the mark. "Beg louder, baby. No one is gonna stop us. They're too busy keeping us in the air."

The reminder of your situation in his deep, hungry voice makes your thighs clamp tighter around him. You're thousands of miles up in the air. Located in a private jet with the only other passengers being pilots. It's you and your husband alone.

"Leon, please. I wanna feel you. I want you all over me. Please, honey. Please." His hand tugs your head back as he ravishes your neck. Drawn out sucking and long licks along sensitive skin. You grind harder on the bulge caged in his jeans.

"All over you, huh?" His husky breath washes over your ear. You're sure he would have had you on your hands and knees in an instant if it wasn't for the limitations of this particular seat. No, you'll have to ride him. The thought alone has you whining with shame but no control.

"All over me, Leon. Please, I want you inside me." Your hands grow frantic, clawing at his denim pants and your own clothes. Your clit is throbbing in anticipation of being skin to skin. Yes, marriage has absolutely been a blessing. And neither of you have any desire to stop this.

Leon growls when cool air hits his freed cock. His mouth moves to capture your own, tongues fighting for dominance and spit being shared. One tasting the other in an endless cycle of pleasure. His large hands clamp down on your hips and you know what's next.

"Leon!" You cry out, breaking the kiss when his tip sinks in. Then, his hips roll again. Again and again until he's buried inside your snug warmth.

He says your name, "Fuck. You feel like heaven. You're too good. I'm not gonna stop. We're not stopping until the plane lands."

When you're finally adjusted there's no mercy.

You cling to him as he thrusts up into you. Your hips shake and jerk, eager to contribute. But he's taking you for the ride. Your cries and his groans grow to a concerning volume. So, that's when his lips crash into yours. He's holding you tight to his chest while thrusting up into you.

He's fast and relentless, strong arms holding you in place. Your eyes roll back as your cunt squeezes his dick ruthlessly. Your orgasm is fierce and all consuming. His mouth leaves your swollen lips and glides down your throat.

"I'm not done yet." His voice is deep and rasping. His dick twitches inside of you, but it's still rock solid and holding you open. You whimper, rolling your hips into his desperate thrusts.

You plant your hands on his chest and get to work. You lift yourself up and drop down. You're shaking something terrible, but he slows down so you can take over. You ride your husband in the belly of a private jet. His hands worshipping your body and his groans music to your ears.

He calls your name again followed by curses. The smell of sex surrounds you and sweat causes your remaining clothes to stick. Slick noises from your pussy meeting his dick is all too mesmerizing. "Baby, I can't . . ." Leon trails off, losing it first.

His teeth sink into the crook of your neck as his hips stutter beneath you. His cum filling you up. Your hands tighten on his shoulders and your head falls back as the second orgasm crashes over you.

Shuttered breaths and trembling limbs are the aftermath. Leon gently brushes kisses where he bit you and mumbles an apology. Your hand curls around his nape, fingers playing in the ends of his hair.

You could stay here forever. Both of you intertwined in every way imaginable. His arms holding you on his muscular thighs. His head buried in your neck like a tired dog.

"So what now? There's a shower . . ." He scoffs, "sorta. Oh, and there's a bed."

You choke out a laugh and pull his head back from you. "If there's a bed, why did you take me here?"

"I don't know. Wasn't thinking with my head." He shrugs, amused and far too proud of himself. You both know what was doing the thinking for him.

"Yeah, okay. Well, let's go to the bed." You just shake your head at him before carefully climbing off.

Before he's even done zipping his jeans back up he's mentioning a round two. "You're crazy." At this point you're laughing. No longer able to fight how giddy he makes you. Leon picks you up bridal style this time.

"Maybe, but something tells me you like it." Leon tilts his head and adds a devious smirk to completely wipe out any reservations you might have.

"Shut up and take me to bed." You flutter your lashes at him, voice lowered in a flirtatious manner.

"Yes, ma'am."

🛬🛬🛬🛬🛬🛬🛬🛬🛬🛬🛬🛬🛬🛬🛬🛬🛬

I'm sorry this took so long. I've been teasing it for it awhile. It's because I was scared of getting his character wrong. 😅

Leon is tired of hurting. Physically, emotionally, everything aches. He returns home from New York aching and bruised. They stopped the bad guy. Leon knows he should feel proud that the world is a little safer for the time being due to him.

But he doesn’t.

He returns home to his quiet apartment, and the only thing he feels is emptiness. This is what his life was, an endless loop of self-sacrifice, and he had to come to terms with that.

The light in his apartment flickers on, illuminating the mess he had left in his haste to flee to Colorado. Beer bottles and half-drunk whiskey glasses litter his counters. Leon just sighs.

Despite his exhaustion, he isn’t sure he’ll be able to fall asleep.

So he gets to work.

The mountain of dishes in his sink slowly dwindles until he can see the silver basin once more. He roams his apartment, tossing empty bottles and half-eaten boxes of takeout into a trash bag.

Once he’s satisfied that his apartment is no longer a pigsty, Leon still doesn’t feel the urge to sleep. He meanders out onto his balcony and thinks about grabbing a drink, something to numb the empty pit forming inside.

It won’t fix the problem; it never does. Doesn’t matter how many drinks he has, how much he tries to forget about how much he hates his life.

Leon feels his heart rate start to spike.

It doesn’t matter how hard he tries to do the right thing, how many monsters he kills, how many corrupted officials he puts a bullet through the head. The world is rotten to its core, and he’s doomed to do the same tired song and dance day in and day out.

His chest feels tight.

Leon sucks in a deep breath as he tries to focus on the lives he had saved.

Faces from his past pop up in his mind.

Ashley. Helena. Claire.

The thought of them makes him smile. Alive and still breathing.

His thoughts sour as he’s reminded of all the people he couldn’t save.

Luis. Marvin. Krauser.

So many died because he was slow, because he was weak.

He leans over the railing, feeling nauseous as the ghosts of his past taunt him. He can’t save them all.

Leon’s head is spinning, his chest feeling like it’s going to collapse in on itself. He takes a shaky breath and tries to think back to a trick Claire taught him.

Five things you can see.

The moon is a crescent tonight, and even in the light-polluted air of the city, he thinks it looks peaceful shining proudly in the night sky.

There is a taxi on the street. If he jumped now, he’d crash through the windshield as it drove by.

A pigeon is perched on a streetlamp, cooing at passersby.

God, he feels stupid. Two left.

A couple is walking by, hand in hand. Leon can’t remember the last time he went on a proper date.

There is a light in the sky; probably a satellite, but from where he stands, it looks like a star.

Leon doesn’t feel any better. What was the next step?

Right.

Four things you can touch.

The metal railing is cold under his touch.

He rubs a hand over his stubbled cheeks. He can’t be bothered to shave. It’s not like he can grow a beard anyway. He tried once, and Hunnigan made fun of him for weeks.

The leather of his jacket is smooth, although he needs to have it cleaned. Specks of dried blood have stained it.

This isn’t making him feel better. Fuck, he needs one more.

He runs a hand through his hair, yanking on a greasy strand. Leon feels disgusting and in desperate need of a shower.

Three things you can hear.

He can hear the honking of city traffic; even at nighttime, it never stops. Leon prefers the sounds of the city to the quietness of small towns and the country. Silence meant something was wrong.

A dog is barking nearby. Leon likes dogs, but he’s never had one. He’s shot too many to even consider keeping a pet.

Amidst it all, the chaos of the city, he hears the gentle thrum of an acoustic guitar. It's quiet, like someone was trying to keep it to themselves. Leon tilts his head; it sounds close.

The melody is familiar, one he knows he's heard before. It’s slow and gentle, and he doesn't even realize his breathing has steadied until the panic starts to ebb away.

A feminine voice hums along to the tune. Leon knows he’s intruding; you definitely don’t know he’s out there, but your singing voice is so calming that he doesn’t have the strength to pull away.

So Leon remains slumped over the railing, his eyes closed as he focuses on the music, letting the melody lull him into a state of peace.

For the first time in what feels like forever, his mind is quiet.

He doesn’t move from his spot until he hears you stop plucking the strings and retreat indoors to your apartment. Once the sliding glass door slides shut, he lets out a small sigh, shoulders loose as he looks up at the satellite in the sky, and wonders if wishes still count when they're made on something that isn't really a star.

Eventually, sleep comes for Leon. He tried to lie in bed, but as he rolled over and gazed over the edge of his mattress onto the hardwood floor, he was suddenly brought back to that rooftop, dangling off the edge as he looked down at the streets of New York City beneath him. Leon let his arm dangle off the mattress and imagined what it would have been like to fall. The thought made him nauseous, and suddenly his bed didn’t feel safe anymore.

He awoke late in the morning, sprawled out on the hardwood floor, his back creaking as he stretched. Leon goes through the motions of his morning routine like a zombie. He drinks his coffee, which tastes far too burnt, and makes breakfast that tastes like mush and nothingness in his mouth. He lifts weights until his arms feel like they’ll fall off because at least the pain reminds him he’s still real. He boils himself in the shower, hoping that the heat and the steam can rinse away the filth from his mission. Leon lets the water wash over him until it runs cold. He traces the outline of his jugular, still tender from where Arias had gripped him. The touch makes him feel filthy, and he lathers up his neck once more. It doesn’t matter how many times he washes himself; he’ll never be pure again.

The sun is high in the sky, and Leon tries to convince himself that some fresh air will do him good. He paces his apartment in a fret, wondering what his younger self would do if he saw him now, on the brink of crying at the thought of leaving his apartment. Pathetic.

Eventually, he swings the door open in a burst of bravado. He has his leather jacket tucked under his arm and has decided that a walk to the dry cleaners would be a productive use of his time. Beats staying cooped up in his living room all day.

Two things you can smell.

Leon takes a deep inhale as he makes his way to the elevator. The walkway of his apartment building smells like carpet, that warm, musty smell like someone had recently vacuumed.  He presses the button to go down, watching the lights ding with each stop as it approaches. He takes another deep breath.

Perfume, feminine and sweet, fills his nostrils, and he tenses, glancing behind him. A young woman is lugging a guitar case beside her, making her way over.

“Here, do you need a hand?” Leon offers on instinct.

“Oh–thanks!” you say with a smile on your face.

Leon nods politely, taking the cumbersome case from you. Your perfume smells pretty, and he tries to memorize the scent without seeming like a creep, resisting the urge to sniff at the air like a dog.  You both stand in silence as the elevator opens, Leon gesturing for you to enter first. He follows you in and leans on the wall opposite you. You're humming under your breath as you watch the floor numbers drop. The gentle little familiar tune nags at the back of his brain. Of course it’s familiar; he heard you singing it last night.

“Hey, are we neighbors?” you ask. Leon looks up to see you staring at him.

“Yeah–” he starts. “I think so.”

You hold out your hand for him to shake and introduce yourself. Leon's taken aback by your gesture, and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He gently reaches out and grasps your hand.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Leon.”

The elevator door slides open, and you both step out, him following you with your case.

“So, where are you off to?” he asks, wanting to prolong his time with you.

“Oh, I’m helping set up an open mic night at a coffee shop. It’s a bit last minute, but I was hoping I’d be able to get a chance to play.”

“You should; you’re really good.”

Your eyes widened as you glanced over at him.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I hope this doesn't sound weird, but... I heard you playing last night."

A smile cracks on your mouth as he stammers out an explanation.

"Our balconies are pretty close together," he added quickly. "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop."

You chuckle softly as the pair of you make your way outside, Leon waving his hand to flag a taxi.

“If you’d like to hear me play for real, you should come tonight,” you invite, glancing down at the ground with a smile.

"Yeah," he hears himself say. "I'd like that."

You grin up at him. “Great, here, let me write down the address.” You fumble with your purse, writing it down on the back of a crumpled-up receipt for him. “It starts at seven, but if you wanna grab a seat, you should try to be there by 6:30; it fills up fast.”

“I’ll be there,” Leon promises.  He helps set the guitar case in the trunk, watching as you slide into the cab. You smile and wave at him, and Leon finds himself waving back, watching in awe as the taxi disappears from view.

One thing you can taste

The minty aftertaste of his toothpaste still lingers on his tongue, but he can’t help but think for a fleeting moment what a kiss from you would taste like.

The sun is slowly setting as Leon walks down the city sidewalk. The evening chill creeps in, and he tugs his freshly cleaned jacket tighter around himself, glancing down at the directions on his phone.

He never thought he'd actually be excited to go to an open mic night, but as he makes his way downtown, he can't help but hum the melody you'd been playing the night before.

Leon wonders if you'll sing it again.

re9!ex-husband leon- Suggestive, Smut -by @saintlea

Leon, who immediately after being cured of the T-Virus, showed up to his ex-wife’s house.

Socks & kisses- Roomate!Leon, Fluff, Pining, Smut -by @plutotheplum

a spontaneous shopping trip has leon re-evaluating his friendship with you.

company- Agent!reader, Hurt/comfort, Fluff - by @haddonfieldwhore

you’ve worked with leon for years, of course he notices you’re hiding something. maybe he’s hiding something too

My wife hates me, I might as well jump off a cliff- Reqiuem!Leon, Hurt/comfort, Implied smut -by @leonskluv

An argument erupted between Leon and his wife, and now he's doing anything he can to gain your favor back.

PERSISTENT- Communications expert!Reader, Fluff -by @angelicsoka

three times leon has asked you out and the one time you said yes.

lovers rock- Fluff -by @h4neypot

4 times the team notices something's up with leon and the 1 time they figure it out (spoiler: he's married)

sex pollen- agent!reader, Smut -by @/planetsalma

Tenderfoot- Re9!Leon, Smut -by @m-r-s-dot-kennedy

A little something about your questionable decisions and unpredictable outcomes.

(Not so) smooth operator- Smut -by @ambitiousficus555

The team’s van is too full, so you have to sit on Leon’s lap for the ride. He tries (and fails) to hide how turned on he gets, the bumpy road making everything worse… until he finally snaps and pulls you out for a desperate fuck against the side of a gas station..

Stick to me like caramel- Smut -by @alloftheimagines

coming across a strange plant in an old lab greenhouse has dire consequences... for the most part.

Trying to jump scare Leon- Fluff, Drabble -by @leonslifealert

Frosted Brushes- Bestfriend's older brother!leon, Agent!Leon, Smut -by @plutotheplum

an ill-timed snowstorm leaves you snowed in with a less than enthusiastic federal agent.

nothing 2 lose !- Uni!AU, Fratboy/Fuckboy!Leon, Smut -by @godsfaith

house parties. reader and leon have sex in a closet. 7 minutes in heaven. spin the bottle.

calling leon by his middle name. he loves it… maybe a little too much- Drabble, Smut -by @seribun

your neighbour thinks you're cheating on leon (sequel to above)- Suggestive, Humour -by @seribun

Pre R9 Leon Kennedy x Civilian!Fem!Reader- Fluff -by @ethereal-shyt777

Leon tries his luck with Tinder dates and thinks it didn't work out, but ends up finding the right person by accident instead. This is before R9, basically a little fanfic on how Leon met his wife (you)

girl dad Leon playing tea time with his daughter- Fluff -by @k3nnedygirl

teasing Leon because he's older than you- Fluff, Suggestive -by @flirtingfawn

going undercover with Leon is stressful and you blow off that steam together- Smut -by @gtgbabie0

analogy for the blind- Prof!Leon, Uni!AU, Smut -by @cametoile

you thought ‘philosophy: yesterday and today’ was a useless gen-ed requirement you could coast through. after completely bombing the exam, your professor decides to prove just how wrong you are, determined to show you firsthand exactly how persuasive a philosopher’s rhetoric can truly be..

You're worth protecting- Agent!Leon/Agent!Reader, Smut -by @mbrickswrites

Sex pollen galore, but listen: you and Leon both work at the DSO and you hate each other

So...Can I take you out sometime?- Doctor!Reader, Fluff -by @tonguetiedloser

Agent Kennedy is a smartass, so he reopens his stitches.

Leon makes you squirt (for the first time) -Smut -by @lolalov3s

Mission: Marriage- Series, Agent!Leon/Agent!Reader, Fluff, Suggestive -by @menmadeofwarninglabels

You and Leon have to pretend to be married for 48 hours to complete a mission. He goes a little crazy when he realizes just how much he actually wants that

If you lie down with me- Older neighbour!Leon, Fluff, Smut, Angst -by @lanadelreyylover

A new house, a moving van, and a very heavy box all lead to your introduction to your older neighbor, Leon. Brooding, burdened, and somewhat reclusive, you find a way to worm yourself into his life and knock down his defenses until he finally lets you in(to his bed).

Death island Ranch owner!leon- Angst, Smut -by @leavemealoneplzs

Leon is running a ranch, and you're the sweet girl living on a farm nearby. Every time you come over to love on the horses, he hates himself a little more.

Pretty please?- Re4r!Leon, Established relationship, Smut, Fluff -by @a-dsoagent

Leon has always been a gentle lover, but you request that he lets loose for once, and boy did he.

the cold between us- Re9!Leon/medic!reader, Angst, Smut -by @kennedysflower

four years of built up tension between you and leon kennedy finally snaps during a mission in an abandoned russian sanatorium and after a reckless argument you both had at the DSO HQ, his restraint breaks , leaving both of you with far more damage than either of you know how to name.

tear my petals (the cold between us pt2)- Angst, Smut -by @kennedysflower